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vintageshanny · 6 months ago

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Waiting for Love - Part Eleven

Falling Deeper

Content: August 1972, a little angst carried over from the last part, a lot of fluff, a lot of smut, mentions of pornography, 18+

I think we are getting pretty close to the end of what I had planned for this series (2 more chapters maybe? Of course I reserve the right to change my mind lol). Thank you all for following along, commenting, sharing, etc! ❤️

Catch up here: Waiting for Love series

August 1972

“Vivien, jus’ wait a goddamn minute!”

The rage seemed to have won, Vivien thought as she continued toward the door.

“Please,” he added, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

Maybe not.

Her hand paused on the doorknob. She tried to will herself to open it and walk out, but she froze in place as she felt him approach behind her, his entire aura enveloping her senses.

“Elvis, please, I can’t,” she whispered, tilting her head forward against the door frame, trying to escape the feel of his warm breath on her neck.

“Honey, please, l-l-let me jus’ tell ya what I came back ta say.” Elvis gently placed his hands on her waist and turned her around to face him.

“Okay.” Vivien nodded but carefully avoided looking into his eyes, knowing her resolve wouldn’t last a second.

As Elvis grabbed her hand and led her toward the couch, there was a tentative knock at the door.

“Sorry, that’s probably Roxanne,” Vivien mumbled nervously, pulling her hand away and turning back toward the door. “I can tell her to wait.” Elvis waited within arm’s reach to make sure Vivien didn’t make a break for it as she cracked open the door and spoke to Roxanne in a low tone. “Rox, Elvis is here. He wants to talk. Can you wait for a little bit?”

“Of course hon, I’ll be right out here.” Roxanne smiled reassuringly and sat down on the porch steps as Vivien closed the door.

Vivien let Elvis grab her limp hand and lead her over to the long white couch, where they sat down and turned toward each other, Elvis’ legs spread wide apart as always. He held her hand in his own, running one of his long thumbs soothingly over the back of it.

“Vivien honey, I-I-I’m sorry.”

Vivien looked up in surprise. She had seen Elvis be remorseful about things many times, but she knew a straightforward apology was sometimes hard for him.

“It was never my intention ta make ya feel like I don’t want’cha around.”

“I just don’t understand what happened.” Vivien blinked back the tears she could feel welling up and smoothed out her short swingy blue skirt with her free hand. “When you came over that night and told me it was time and that she was leaving, and then you made love to me so beautifully, I was on top of the world. I thought my heart might burst with love for you. I’d been waiting so long to hear you say those words. And for a couple months, it felt like we were both sharing that happiness. Then something happened. You stopped wanting me with you. Elvis, I don’t know what to think. Before, there was a reason I couldn’t be with you. Now it just feels like you stopped loving me.”

“Baby, I could never stop lovin’ ya. You’re ever’thing I’ve been lookin’ for my whole life.” Elvis blinked back his own tears and continued. “I sometimes wonder if I even deserve all the love ya give ta me, honey.”

“Is that why you’re pushing me away? You think you don’t deserve to be loved?”

“This life can be confusing, Vivien. My fans love me, but they don’t know all of me, all my faults. I-I-I know I’ve made plenty of mistakes in this life, and I know that you see that side of me. Other women I’ve been with, they see my faults and they want a break or they want to change me or control me. But you see it and you’re still here lovin’ me anyway. And I think, ‘What did I do to deserve that?’”

Vivien’s heart melted with compassion for this beautiful man and the vulnerability he was displaying. “You’re just you, Elvis. You’re the strongest, most generous, kindest, funniest, warm-hearted person I’ve ever known. You should never doubt for a second that you deserve to be loved, completely and unconditionally. Just let me give you that love. Let me be there and take care of you and give you everything I have to give.”

Elvis wiped a tear away and swallowed nervously before continuing. “Vivien, it’s hard for me to admit things like this, but I’m scared. I shoulda told ya earlier, but the reason I started pullin’ back is cuz I found out that ‘Cilla left me for another man. And I jus’ keep wonderin’ how long before ya decide I’m n-n-not man enough for ya.”

Vivien tried to stifle the noise that was about to emerge, but a cross between a laugh and a snort came pouring out. Elvis turned red and pulled his hand away. “It’s not funny, Vivien. This really messed me up. I-”

“Elvis, hold on, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. Priscilla leaving for another man doesn’t mean you’re not good enough. It just means the two of you weren’t right for each other. Not like me and you, right?”

Elvis contemplated. “I suppose so. It jus’ hurt my pride ta find that out. But that’s what I came back to tell ya - that I don’t want what happened in the past to ruin the future. I’m clingin’ to my pride when I should be clingin’ ta you. I want ya with me Vivien. Come be with me.”

“Elvis I would follow you to the ends of the Earth.” Vivien leaned in and kissed his tear-dampened cheek. “I know you always try to be strong, but you can always tell me when you’re feeling bad. I want to take care of you the way that you always take care of everyone around you. And I just can’t believe you’d ever feel like you’re not man enough. You are so unbelievably manly.” Vivien’s voice dropped to a near whisper as she looked him over, really taking in for the first time the form-fitting white pants he was wearing with his silky blue shirt.

Elvis’ lips raised in a crooked smirk when he noticed her wandering eyes. “Remember the first time we sat on this couch together baby? And ya kept tryin’ ta take a peek at my…manhood?”

“I’ll never forget it,” Vivien giggled and blushed, her heart racing as she recalled their first time alone together. “But you really can’t blame me when you refused to wear underwear and had yourself just…jiggling around.”

“Lemme tell ya a little secret, honey. I ain’t wearin’ any underwear right now either.” Elvis smirked and gave her a little wink.

“Mmm is that so?” Vivien leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Neither am I.”

“With that little skirt? Honey, anyone could be seein’ what belongs ta me.” Elvis sounded equally irritated and turned on.

“Well, I ran out of clean clothes and I was going to do my laundry when I got to Roxanne’s apartment.” Vivien climbed on top of Elvis’ lap, straddling his thighs with her own. “But now maybe we can make the most of the situation.”

“Oh yeah? What’d ya have in mind?” Elvis groaned a little as Vivien shifted back and forth on his lap. “Is anyone else home?”

“I think they all went to the store.” Vivien reached down to unbuckle Elvis’ pants.

“B-b-but they, uh, they could be back soon, honey,” Elvis half-heartedly protested as she finished unzipping him and pulled his dick out, staring in awe while he grew harder, his head emerging fully, as if it were the first time she ever laid eyes on him.

“I guess we’ll just have to hurry then, won’t we?” she whispered conspiratorially as she lowered herself onto him, eliciting another groan as he disappeared inside of her. “Plus if anyone walks in, we’re all covered,” she added, spreading her skirt over their exposed bits.

“Oh shit Vivien, I missed ya, baby,” Elvis panted as he bucked his hips up into her, about to burst with pleasure.

“Elvis I need you so bad,” Vivien moaned. “I love having you inside of me.”

“Oh God, oh God,” Elvis thrust upward one last time as Vivien rocked her hips back and forth, milking everything out of him before settling her head down on his shoulder.

“I’m so lucky to have you. You will always be all the man I need. I love you.”

“I love ya too, baby. Now let’s find ya a pair of panties so we can get goin’ back ta Vegas before the Colonel finds out I’m gone.”

Vivien giggled as she rose from the couch. “Oh shoot! I left Roxanne waiting outside all this time.” She peeked out onto the porch and saw that, not only was Roxanne no longer sitting there, her car was gone as well. “Oh no! Do you think she heard us and left? Or what if she came in and we didn’t hear her?” Vivien started to panic as Elvis let out a loud burst of laughter.

“Don’t worry honey. Like ya said, we were all covered up.” His laughter grew as Vivien’s blush grew more vibrant.

“Elvis! It’s not funny!”

**********************************************

Vivien sat on the couch in Elvis’ suite after the show, watching him walk around and mingle with his friends and some guests. Right now he was talking to his new friend Larry. Or was it an old friend? She’d had some trouble following the timeline Larry had tried explaining when they sat next to each other during the show. Larry seemed to be talking Elvis’ ear off while Elvis kept sneaking little glances at her, that adorable crooked grin adorning his face.

“Man, she’s perfect for you, Elvis. I could see the way your energy ignited a desire in her, for life, for knowledge. The way she was watching you with open eyes and open heart, I asked her if it was her first time seeing you perform.”

“What’d she say?” Elvis chuckled, glancing over at Vivien.

“That the magic of watching you is always like the first time.”

Elvis blushed a little bit as Larry recounted Vivien’s words.

“Man, I’m telling you, hold onto this one. Let all that bad energy out so you can make room for the good.”

“I’ll try my best, Lawrence.”

“Hey, Elvis, why’d ya have ta go and bring your chick back here? How are we supposed ta watch the special movie ya had me get?” Joe came sauntering over, looking like he’d maybe imbibed one too many times.

Elvis rolled his eyes. “What makes ya think that was for you to see? I better check it out first and make sure your innocent little eyes can handle it.”

“C’mon, Elvis, there were supposed to be no women on this tour. At least none that we’d remember later.” Joe howled like a hyena at his own joke as Elvis’ gaze turned cold. He glanced over at where Vivien sat, hoping Joe’s idiocy hadn’t wafted all the way to her ears.

“How ‘bout ya gather up whatever groupies will have ya and get the hell outta my room?” Elvis snapped. “Actually, ever’one can get out. Party’s over for tonight.”

As the room emptied, Vivien looked up at Elvis quizzically. “What was the special movie you asked for?”

Elvis blushed and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with his fingers. “Oh, ya heard that? I suppose ya heard ever’thing else he said too?”

Vivien nodded and reached out for his hand, pulling him down on the couch next to her.

“I’m sorry baby, Joe’s jus’ an asshole, he didn’t mean-”

“Elvis, it’s okay. It’s me and you now, right?”

Elvis smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. “That’s right, baby.”

“So, what about the movie?” Vivien was surprised to see the blush return to Elvis’ face at her question. He stared down at her soft hand in his before answering with his own question.

“Ya ever seen a dirty movie, honey?”

“A dirty movie?” she echoed, as if incapable of comprehending.

“Yeah, y’know, a skin flick?”

“Oooh,” Vivien exclaimed, feeling her own face turn red now. “You mean…pornography?” her voice dropped to a whisper. “No, of course not.”

Elvis smiled at the way this girl who had hopped on his lap with no qualms not twelve hours ago could still be so sweetly innocent in some ways.

“D-d-do ya wanna watch with me? I-I mean, I don’t want ya ta feel uncomfortable or anything. But maybe it would be fun,” he added slyly.

“Um, okay, we could try it,” Vivien agreed, trying to sound calm.

Elvis grabbed the film reel that Joe had brought in earlier and headed for the bedroom. “I might need your help with the projector. Usually one of the guys sets this up for me,” he called out. Vivien nervously followed him into the bedroom where he was fiddling with the projector and the reel.

“I think you just - there, like that,” she said, helping him set it up.

“Thanks, baby. I don’t know what I’d do without ya.” Elvis gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“I suppose you’d be watching a dirty movie with a bunch of men?” Vivien asked, somewhat confused about the ritual.

Elvis let out a big guffaw. “Well, when ya say it like that honey, it sounds kinda weird. Why don’t we put on something more comfortable?” He handed Vivien her silky nightgown with the thin straps and headed for the bathroom with his own pajamas. “I’ll be right back. Don’t ya go disappearin’,” he called out. When he emerged, Vivien was propped up against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of her. Elvis started the reel and nestled in next to her.

“Deep Throat,” Vivien read as the words scrolled across the small projector screen. She could feel her palms getting sweaty for some reason and wondered if this was a good idea. She’d never even seen another man naked, and now she was going to watch people having sex?

In the uncanny way that he always seemed to read her thoughts, Elvis wrapped an arm around her and reassured, “If you feel uncomfortable baby, jus’ let me know. We can always turn it off.” Vivien nodded and let her hand drift over and rub little circles on his strong sturdy thigh.

As the action progressed, Vivien couldn’t help but notice Elvis’ bulge growing more prominent. He rubbed his hand over the top of it and let out a little groan, causing Vivien’s mind to race with both excitement and insecurities. “Elvis?”

“Yes baby?”

“Are you, um, are you turned on because she’s prettier than me?” Vivien asked, hoping she didn’t sound as ridiculous as she felt.

“Honey, no way is there a woman prettier than you. I’m turned on cuz’ I got this gorgeous angel sittin’ here next ta me. I’d like ta see even more of ya,” he whispered as he slowly pulled the strap of her nightgown down over her shoulder. The silky material slid down, exposing her left breast to the cool hotel air. “Goddamn baby, did I ever tell ya that you’ve got the most perfect nipples I’ve ever seen? Just beggin’ ta be licked and sucked on.” He turned his body and leaned down, drawing her nipple into his mouth, nipping gently with his teeth while his supple lips held it firmly in their grasp.

“Elvis, oh God,” Vivien moaned as he pulled the other strap down and started kissing and licking her right breast.

“Ya like that, honey?” Elvis whispered as he pulled back and watched the blissful look on her face. “Would ya kiss me too?” He grabbed her hand and set it where he wanted to be kissed. Vivien felt him pulsing with desire.

They both glanced back at the screen and Vivien’s face turned bright red when she saw what was happening.

“Honey,” Elvis whispered, drawing her attention back to him. “Do ya think ya could feel pleasure like that? From takin’ me in your mouth and makin’ me feel good?”

“I do love making you feel good.” Vivien moved her hand up toward the waistband of his pants.

“I have an idea, but I don’t want ya ta feel no pressure, okay? What if we could both kiss each other there and make each other feel good at the same time?”

“What do you mean?” Vivien looked into his eyes, so heavy with lust.

“Lemme show ya, baby. Just take this nightgown off and bring your body over here.” Elvis slid his pajama pants down his legs and scooched down so he was flat on his back. He positioned Vivien so she was straddling him and facing the other way.

“Elvis, I don’t know,” she whispered. “I’m nervous.”

“Jus’ try it with me baby, please?” Elvis pleaded. He pulled her up higher so her thighs were straddling his face. “Mmm goddamn now that’s a view,” he murmured. “Honey I want ya ta jus’ lay yourself right on me and give me some kisses, okay?”

Vivien lay her body down against his and took hold of Little Elvis in her hand. He had already emerged from his cocoon and was dripping with arousal. She wrapped her lips around him right as she felt Elvis spread her open with his fingers and dip his tongue inside of her. Unable to form words, she moaned loudly around his dick, the vibrations shooting pleasure through his whole body. She used her hands to explore and massage every part of him, the flesh of his inner thighs soft under her fingertips.

“Oh fuck,” Elvis whispered into her wet pussy, trying to control the flicks of his tongue while his body was coursing with pure excitement. Her thighs started shaking around him as he sucked on her clit, knowing his own eruption would come any second. The ecstasy overtook them both until their bodies relaxed into each other, moans giving way to soft contented sighs.

“C’mere baby.” Elvis helped Vivien climb off and pulled her up toward him, giving her a deep passionate kiss, the taste of their arousal mixing together. “Oh God,” Elvis groaned. “I think I’ve got some more ta give.” He rolled on top of her and thrust gently, sliding right inside of her through the wetness.

“Elvis, it feels so good. You always make me feel so good,” Vivien panted, delirious with pleasure.

“Wow,” Elvis whispered after the second high had washed over them. “I guess the movie was a good idea, huh?”

Vivien giggled and covered her blushing face. “I didn’t need the movie to be turned on by you,” she teased. “Besides, I don’t like seeing another man like that. His thing looked weird.”

“Is that right?” Elvis laughed his infectious booming laugh.

“Yeah, it’s not beautiful like yours. With a nice cocoon to keep him warm and safe.” Vivien smiled and lightly traced over Little Elvis with her fingers. She loved the way he felt, even when he was resting.

“Okay, baby, ya ain’t never gotta see another man’s thing, okay? Jus’ mine.” Elvis pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

“That sounds perfect,” she whispered. “Hey, why’d you keep your shirt on the whole time? That’s not fair.”

Elvis grimaced a little and mumbled an answer. “I think I’m startin’ ta gain a few pounds. I need ta lose some weight before my satellite concert in Hawaii.”

“What?! You look amazing,” Vivien exclaimed. “And I love to feel your furry body against mine when you make love to me.” She smiled dreamily and slipped her hand under his shirt to rub his soft hairy belly.

“Okay, next time,” Elvis chuckled.

“Are you taking me to Hawaii with you?” Vivien held her breath waiting for his response, hoping she wouldn’t be disappointed.

“Of course. I ain’t lettin’ ya outta my sight again, little girl. I love ya so much.”

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#elvis #elvis fan fic #elvis fan fiction #elvis smut #Elvis x oc #waiting for love

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year ago

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not enough trust to believe (not enough feeling to care) | a. shinonome

✮ tags ; fem!reader (usage of she/her towards reader + mentioned to wear make-up), established relationship, making-up, jealousy, hurt/comfort, light angst / happy ending, aged-up characters (this is sfw), single suggestive comment at the end.

✮ wc ; 4k (how.. literally what happened.)

✮ a/n ; the minute i touch that app a demon takes over and i end up daydreaming about this mf and toya . peace and love i feel insane. also for what its worth i do think adult akito is very good at communicating his emotions in comparison to now so if u find him ooc my apologies.

title from rental by brockhampton. shoutout if u know what manga this panel is from lol. also if ur a minor please do not follow me. u r welcome to read.

"Y'know, Akito - you're being a bit of a hypocrite right now."

"Shut up, Toya." Akito grumbles, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the bastard you're currently giggling with "I'm not."

An laughs from the other side of the room.

"You so are being a hypocrite right now," An threads her fingers through Kohanes hair, the other currently seated on the floor while she styles it "What was it you said? It's nothing to get jealous over so don't worry."

"Akito-kun, it's not good to be dishonest."

"Kohane-san, you're being corrupted. I can't believe you'd join these two on this."

Kohane shakes her head.

"I'm not being anything. It's just not right."

An wraps her arms around Kohane's shoulders from above, chin resting on her head. Akito sighs, leaning his head back on the wall behind him with his eyes still closed - only bothering to open them again when another giggle falls from your lips. This time it turns into full blown heart eyes from that corny bass-playing bastard.

Akito Shinonome is not jealous alright? He isn't. So, this reaction is not by any means hypocrisy.

VIVID BAD SQUAD has officially been on tour for 6 months. This is their first international tour of their career, after releasing their first studio album. It was received well in Japan but surprisingly had more of an audience overseas. So, they'd been performing all over North America with another band.

You've been apart of the VIVD BAD SQUAD team for quite some time before then, working as a roadie for tours back home. Akito has been dating you for well-over a year, and so far - its been great. He gets to see you often and manages to sneak you onto the performers tour bus sometimes. He likes not having to be apart, even if he is incredible busy. A little is better than nothing at least.

A few months ago, the two of you got into a bit of a spat. You'd told Akito that you think he gets a little too friendly when girls come to meet him backstage. Went on a whole spiel about understanding his career and persona, that he doesn't need to be cold but that you wish he put a little more distance between them.

Akito had retaliated with the fact it's nothing to worry about. He's loyal to you and him being friendly isn't anything meaningful. You were upset about this reply and the two of you got pretty intense.

It took Kohane and An's intervention and plenty of convincing to get you two back on good terms - with An promising that she'd keep and eye out and scold Akito properly. You started talking again after that at least, and things went back to normal.

But nothing had really gotten resolved. You still seemed to feel upset every time he'd act too familiar with fans and Akito still didn't see it as a problem. To him it was just a fake part of the persona, and he didn't think it was like you to get so jealous about something like that.

Then, a few months ago - word got out that the bassist of the band they're traveling with has a crush on you.

FLASHBANG, a smaller indie rock band that everyone on tour is very fond of and a perfect addition to their set list. Both bands are friendly with one another. He'd assumed the news of their bassist having a crush on you was nothing more than some rumor. He just couldn't believe it having met them.

Sure, not everyone knew you two were dating but surely Akito would've noticed that before. He just wanted to double check.

It's been weeks now, and he's sure. Hiroaki Miura, bassist pretty boy, has a fucking crush on you. It's so obvious he has no idea how he didn't pick up on it before. He has no idea how you haven't picked up on it either.

He'd mentioned it to you just last week, just to see. You laughed a bit, but asked if he wanted you to stop hanging out with him as much or if there was anything you could do - all while assuring you didn't think that was the case.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I can put some distance between us. Miura-kun isn't interested in me at all, though - I don't think. We're just good friends, we went to school together."

Ultimately he said that wasn't necessary. Akito stares at the two of you together now and scoffs. Haah. Good friends because you went to school together? He's practically making googly eyes at you.

"Looks like they're coming over here," Toya mumbles. Akito closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep, eye twitching when he hears Toya exhale.

"Hey, guys - great show! The duets today were just so vocally smooth and—oh shit, is he asleep?"

He hears An laugh and forces himself not to react. "Yeah. He was exhausted after today."

"Oh, really? Some sleep will be good then." The affection in your voice is so obvious he temporarily forgets whats happening until another, much more annoying voice comes through.

"You guys going straight back to the tour bus tonight?"

"Yeah, probably." Toya confirms.

"Ah, okay cool. We," He pauses, and Akito can only assume he's gesturing to you "Are gonna go check out a manga pop-up that's open here a few blocks down."

"Just the two of you?" An asks, very obviously barely holding in a laugh.

"Oh no, Eta-san is coming with us."

"Y'know, I wanted to go alone with you," Miura says, and Akito really thinks about waking up and hitting him "But Eta really wanted to come so I couldn't say no."

"I like how honest you are with your feelings, Miura-kun. Very refreshing."

"I don't have anything to hide," He insists, and Akito feels his hand clench "It was just nice we ended up tour together. We haven't seen each other since highschool so I thought I should make the most of our time together."

"I don't remember you being so sentimental. I actually remember you bullying me more than anything."

"Hey, quit it! I wasn't bullying you, i-it just came out wrong. I'm not good with my words and all."

"I know," You say completely good-naturedly. Akito knows objectively you're being friendly and thinking nothing of it. He knows that this is nothing to be bothered over and that you've been nothing but loyal. But god he’s annoyed."You would make fun of me then turn around and lend me your stuff. After I figured out you weren't a bad guy I wasn't scared of you."

"You guys have quite the history," Toya comments. You laugh.

"Yeah, I guess so. We lost touch after I moved for my internship so it feels like a big coincidence! Always good to see old friends."

Before any more conversation happens, another staff member calls Miura for whatever reason - leaving you alone. Akito keeps his eyes closed, hearing Toya sigh for a second time.

"Should I tell Akito where you went?"

"Oh, would you? That'd be great, thanks. I figure he wouldn't want to come, or else I'd invite him and go together."

"Why do you think that?" Kohane asks.

"I'm not blaming him or anything! I just don't think he'd be very enthusiastic about it, that's all. I don't want to force him. Me and Miura-kun bond over this stuff, Eta-san too."

"I'm sure he'd be happy to get to spend time with you," Toya assures. He can't see you but he can hear the insecurity seeping through your voice and something in him starts to bend.

"I know, but you know. It's weird lately with tour and all. I think getting my mind off it would help."

"Oh, no." An sighs. Akito's chest tightens "You poor thing."

"Oh stop that, I'm fine! Getting some air will be nice though, you know? For both of us maybe. I did want to tell him myself though."

"It'll be fine, I'll make sure."

"Thanks, Aoyagi-kun.

"And just so you know, Akito-kun really loves you!"

"Of course. I have no reason to feel stuffy about it. Just makes me wonder if I should still be apart of the picture if that's part of his career, no? Dating would hinder that."

"Don't think like that." Toya interjects. You laugh but even Akito can hear how sad you sound. He had no idea you'd even been thinking that.

"I'll try just for you. Now all of you, stop moping over my silly dating problems okay? It was an amazing show today!! Cheer up and I'll see you guys later."

"Where are you going now?"

"Gonna wait backstage for Miura-kun."

"Have fun," Kohane says last. You laugh brightly and assure you will before your footsteps trail off and get lost in the music. When you're gone, Toya punches him in the shoulder - hard enough to hurt a little.

"Ow, what the fuck?"

"You're such a jackass," An says seriously, shaking her head.

"I told you that it was gonna be a problem that you acted like that when we're a duo," Toya reprimands seriously. Akito can't do much to counter it "You should talk to her properly."

"About what," Akito grumbles "It is part of the gig. It doesn't mean anything to me."

"Oh my god, you're so clueless!" An says, exasperated, startling him "It bothers you this much that she's talking to Miura-kun but she should just deal with it when random girls act like to you all the time?"

"An-chan, don't get too mad."

"If I don't no one will! Did you see how sad she looked! She was even trying to be all understanding. That's not fair to her at all."

"...I also understand Akito-kuns view. But if that's the case, then that doesn't mean that she needs to tolerate it, right?"

"What are you saying, Kohane-san?"

She shakes her head.

"I just mean she doesn't have to continue if it's hard for her. If it's not something you can change, then she shouldn't endure it forever, right?"

“What the hell? Are you saying we should break-up?”

“Maybe. If it can’t be resolved, then isn’t unfair to expect her to always endure it?”

“That’s a mature way of looking at, Kohane-san.” Toya comments. Akito shoots him a dirty look. Toya shrugs, unbothered.

“Her and Miura-kun are a good match. They have a good atmosphere and Miura-kun doesn’t care about things like that,”

Akito sits up in frustration, nearly grabbing Toya by the collar.

“Don’t fuck with me.”

“Think about whats best for her in the long run.”

Akito stands to his feet, glare hardened but Toya doesn’t budge at all. He doesn’t have to listen to this shit.

"This and that isn't the same. It's work to me, that's it."

"Everything that she and Miura-kun do is strictly platonic to her. She's not flirting with him, and it's not her fault if he has a crush on her. She even offered to stop seeing him if it made you uncomfortable."

Akito stays silent at that.

"But what about you? You just immediately dismissed it because it's part of her job and didn't even apologize to her later. You seriously think that's fair?"

He sighs at that, and shakes his head.

"I'm leaving."

Toya shakes his head once Akito is out of ear shot.

"So stubborn."

___

It’s close to midnight and you haven’t returned to the tour bus.

Akito knows its stupid to worry but knowing you were out with that goon all day is grating on his nerves. So he’s been waiting. Pacing around and smoking cigarettes, going in and out - he even texted you couple times to check in. You responded with pictures of your items, and selfies.

You had a long day, you drank a bit, you'd be back to the bus soon, you miss him. All in a row.

The longer the time goes on, the dumber Akito feels.

He leans on the bus as he waits on his phone, fingers growing cold. He hears you before he sees you, the sound of quiet giggling followed by a loud laugh. Akito's head snaps up almost immediately.

He hasn't seen you since the afternoon, but you changed. You're wearing your going-out outfit and it looks like you've put on some makeup too, smudged and worn. Eta is between you both as you carry her - Miura just has lovesick as when Akito saw him last. His stomach drops a little.

But the feeling is washed away when you brighten, eyes landing on him. You wave with a bag in your hand and Akito waves back. He waves to Miura too, if only to be polite.

"Akito-kun," Miura is the first talk as all three of you approach "What are you doing here?"

"There was some stuff about tomorrow set we needed to talk about," Akito says, gesturing to you. You blink owlishly.

"Just for you guys? Not FLASHBANG?"

Akito nods. You hum, then look over at Miura.

"Will you be okay taking Eta-san?"

Miura nods.

"Of course. I can't believe she drank so much in the first place, but I oughta to walk her back to our bus." Miura says as you off-load the weight on your shoulder "I'll see you again for tomorrow. Had a lot of fun today."

You giggle, clearly a little tipsy as you give Miura a thumbs-up. "Me too. See you tomorrow!"

Miura laughs a little before turning the corner, mumbling some light reprimanding to the drunk Eta before going on his way. Akito waits until both parties have disappeared - all the way out of ear shot before he looks at you with clear eyes.

If he's come to any conclusion it's this one - Akito doesn't want to break up with you.

He can't give up his career either, and maybe that's selfish. Maybe that's the whole problem. He can't pick. He thought about it, whether or not breaking up would be the right solution. He landed on maybe. Rationally he understands it. But it makes him angry just to think about it.

Akito stares at you as you hold your bag in comfortable silence and look at him. Wide, honest eyes - so dazzling he can hardly breathe. He reaches forward and cups your cheek in the palm of his hand, smoothing his thumb underneath your eye.

"You're back late," He murmurs, though it's not accusatory "What were you doing?"

"Well, a new store opened up at the mall in Tokushima, a bookstore that had a little pop-up for an anime Miura-kun likes. So we shopped around for a while, then stopped to see a movie, then went to an izakaya to drink a bit."

"Did you drink a lot?" He says, gentle as he holds you "You're gonna get a migraine."

"I had 2 mixed drinks. They had shochu in them but it wasn't very strong. Some water will sober me up." You pause inbetween your words, brows furrowing "What happened with the set list?"

"I was lying," Akito admits without thinking twice. You look surprised and he laughs "I just wanted us to be alone."

You tug on the lapel of his jacket weakly "I said I'd put some distance between us if it made you uncomfortable."

"It's not that," And it's true. Akito just really, really needed to be with you alone for a while "I was getting grilled earlier."

"From who?'

Akito rolls his eyes "Who else but Toya?"

You giggle.

"What was he grilling you about?"

"...You," Akito answers after some time "Us."

A beat of silence passes.

"Were you really thinking about breaking up?"

You look a little startled before looking away and something in him is crushed.

"Is that what he told you?"

"It's what it sounded like," Akito replies back. He reaches for your hand and squeezes it "Do you?"

"It's not that I want to,"

"Then what is it?"

'We're gonna go around in circles again," You say through a wet-laugh, like you're already gonna cry again. Akito fucked up bad. He brings your free hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently.

"We wont this time, swear."

"I know it's just work to you. It doesn't bother me all the time, either - like sometimes it doesn't bug me at all. But then, it's like, if I can't handle this much, maybe we should break up," You explain carefully and slowly, not trying to be too harsh at any point "I don't want to resent you or get in the way of your career, y'know. I know you're not gonna cheat on me. I'm a little insecure about it, but tough shit you know?"

"What do you mean?"

"It just...I dunno. It feels bad to watch you flirt with your fans, but if it's work for you than that makes it a me problem right?" You say thoughtfully, a sad but gentle look in your eyes "I don't know if I can handle that. So maybe, it's better to nip it in the bud now before things get serious."

"Aren't they serious already?"

"Yeah, but it's not like we're married. Or public. Like this, it's a normal break-up. It'll be awkward for a bit. But we get through it and things go back to how they were."

"It sounds like you don't take this seriously." Akito says, accusatory. You sigh and shake your head.

"That's not true at all. If you mattered to me in any less, it might be easier. Like if I loved you just a bit less, I could come up with a better solution," You hum. Akito believes it more than anything, that you love him. Even knowing doesn't make everything better "I love you and I know that your career is the most important thing to you. I would never want to make you choose."

"So what? You just cut yourself out of the equation so I don't have to?"

Where Akito expects you to disagree, you laugh and nod your head.

"Yeah. At least we'd be on good terms that way."

Akito stares at you in disbelief. He's partially angry, and partially devastated. He knows what you're saying, and it makes sense rationally. Logically at least. It's a problem with no good outcomes, like if there's already a stalemate - whose to say things will get better. It's in character for you to think like that. Where Akito is hard-headed and passionate, you're calm and analytical. To overthink to such an extent, to think so seriously about your futures. Both Akito's future and yours.

But it's not what he wants. His career is important, of course it is. What he's built is important. But does that mean he has to give up on you?

When Akito reflects on it, he doesn't think your original ask was that hard to fulfill. It hurts the worst to know that. Had he heard you out properly the first time, thought about it a little more - it'd be clear that it's nothing that serious.

Nothing worth making you worry over. Nothing worth making you question your entire relationship over.

But he didn't do that the first time, and now he's stuck listening to you think of all the ways things could go worse from here. It's his fault, really, for not thinking about it. He's always been this way about his career.

"You've been thinking about this a lot." He says first, almost paralyzed. You laugh humorlessly.

"I was going to wait until tour was over to talk about it."

"...Cause you were worried about how I'd perform."

"You're an important part of my salary," You joke, trying to lighten the mood.

"...Man this feels like shit,"

"Sorry."

"No, not it's not that. It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either."

"But it is," He says, exasperated with himself "If I would've just fucking... heard you out a few months ago. You wouldn't have been thinking about all this. If I had just done something then,"

"I don't see it like that, Akito."

"I know but it doesn't matter, cause it's my fucking fault anyway." He looks at you seriously. Shit, he almost wants to cry. "I don't want to break-up with you. I'm really sorry."

"A-akito?"

"I'll stop flirting with the girls who come to meet us. And I'll announce our relationship after I talk with the managers a bit,"

"A-akito, you really don't have to—"

"My career, music, everything we've built so far is important to me," Akito looks at you seriously, hoping it all comes out right. That everything comes through the way he intends "But shit, so are you. You're not...less important to me than any of that."

You stay silent, like you're in disbelief.

"Really?"

"Fuck—god, yes of course. I'm sorry. I really screwed up this time. I don't want to break up. I want to be with you, for a long time. Longer than this."

"I'm gonna cry." You say with a warbly laugh.

"Don't cry," Akito mumbles, pulling you into his arms. He hears you sniffle as he tucks your face against his chest, his arms around you tightly as he comforts you "I'm sorry for being an idiot. I love you,"

He presses a kiss to your head, looking at your tear-stained face with a sigh. He leans forward, knocking your foreheads together before littering kisses along your cheeks and face until you laugh again. He finds himself smiling too, before another somber wave of emotion washes over him.

"I'm sorry for being a shithead," He says with a sigh "An called me a jackass and I can't believe I have to agree with her."

You laugh "I don't think you're a jackass."

"You totally should though," Akito says back "I was pissed off the whole day."

"Really? Why?"

"Why do you think?

You look genuinely confused for a minute before something seems to click.

"Was it because of Miura-kun?"

"Yeah. Fucking walking around so lovey-dovey, making googly eyes at you."

You smile impishly "He confessed to me earlier today."

Akito stiffens immediately.

"What?!"

"Yeah. We were in an alley and waiting for Eta-san and he just... told me outright."

"...And then what?"

You roll your eyes "Of course I accepted and now we live together, happy ever after." Your sarcasm bleeds through your words as you flick Akito's forehead "Obviously I rejected him gently and said I was seeing someone."

"And then?"

"And then he asked who, and I said and then he was silent for a while before tearing up a little." You reply thoughtful, fond smile on your face "He said he wishes he did it in highschool and I comforted him for a bit. Guy cheered up really fast,"

"Seriously?"

"Congrats on being right," You lean into Akito, wrapping your arms around his waist "He bounced back after a drink or two and it hasn't been awkward at all. He can't hide his feelings for shit so I'm sure he's fine."

"Seriously? It's over just like that?"

"He's a positive guy and he doesn't dwell on things. Kind of dopey you know? Pure-hearted to a fault, the only thing he's really smart at is music and sports."

"So he's over it? There's no way."

"I wouldn't say he's over it," You say thoughtfully "More that he just accepts things as they are. I'm not into him so that's that. But we're still friends, and that won't change any time soon. I hope that's okay."

Akito widens his eyes.

"I mean, yeah it's fine - I guess I feel better about this way but. I mean, shit."

"I thought you'd be celebrating a little more."

Akito scoffs.

"He's still gonna make those stupid heart eyes at you, just not in front of me."

"He does not do anything of the sort!"

"Oh yes he definitely does. Ask Toya if you don't trust me."

"Maybe I will." You reply, sticking your tongue out.

"Ask him when we get to our bus."

"...Is that okay? Did you ask your manager?"

He laughs again, holding you close a second time. He tilts your chin up towards him, placing a kiss on your lips.

"Don't care," He says brazenly "I need you with me tonight."

"That sounds dirty, Akito."

"Oh, it is baby," He teases, turning his voice low "Try not to be too noisy. Kohane-sans a light sleeper."

#akito shinonome x reader #akito x reader #project sekai x reader #pjsekai x reader #writing tag

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redheadspark · 2 years ago

Note

For your Valentine prompt requests, 18 is totally Jack Russell. Especially if you know everything about him and he thinks there is no way someone who knows all the horrible (in his mind) things he's done could love him? But you do? Really? Like really, really? and he's just like 'i don't deserve you' and smothers you in hugs and kisses and you resolve to double down on showing him how wrong he is.

I have a lot of feelings about Jack ♥️

A/N - I think this is quite ideal for Jack! Thank you very much for requesting this, Anon!

Really?

Summary - Jack is sometimes in stunned belief you love him unconditionally.

Warnings - Just some fluff with the smallest hint of angst.

"How did we end up here?"

"Is that a rhetorical or a literal question?"

Jack smirked as he was next to him, his breath still a bit labored and the small sheen of sweat still on both of your skins. You drew up the sheet to cover mostly of yourself, though you weren't ashamed of your own body. Nor was Jack, whom was watching you with a hint of blush on his cheeks as he reached down to lace your hands together.

"How did we end up here....together as a couple?" He asked sheepishly, you thinking about it to yourself as he went on with his rambling, "I mean, one minute we're colleagues and working together out on the field. The next minute--"

"We fall head over heels and into bed together," You chimed in, Jack closing his mouth instantly as he looked at you with a hint of shock, "Sounds normal to me,"

Jack knew you had a hint of sarcasm with how you spoke, but you never for one to play with feelings or be too coy. So when you said that sentence, ti did throw him off. You two were dating for only a few months, it wasn't anything hot and heavy nor was it baby steps. It was natural really, your own pace that seemed to work. Jack never pushed or pried, nether did you.

With Jack, things were easy and smooth. He wasn't like the other boyfriends you had in the past that ended up unhealthy or messy. Your ex boyfriends were nothing but trouble, and you were glad to be rid of them. Now with Jack in the picture, it felt like a dream really. He was nothing but kind and attentive, and old romantic at heart with an older soul as well.

"Do you....love me...by any chance?" He asked you, almost wishing that he kept it to himself as you stared at his lovingly in the eyes. You grinned.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, I'm sorry, I was just-- WAIT WHAT?!" He asked, you giggling as he moved over to lean over you on the bed, peering down at your form as you were staring up at him. You saw the look of disbelief mixed with delight in his eyes, maybe trying to convince himself he didn't hear what you said.

"You...you sure you love me?" Jack asked, you feeling your heart ache a little bit with how he asked. You knew Jack and all of his burdens' ll of his pain that he was and still was willing to go through because of his werewolf condition. He was bare with you when you two got together, telling you the good and the bad and the ugly. Yet you still listened and you stayed, knowing that he was more good than bad.

"My love for you," You said to him reaching up to frame his cheeks and feel his stubble against your palms and see his eyes go a bit big, "Is the one constant thing I have ever had in my life. I know you doubt yourself sometimes, especially when you think you can't have any love in your life because of who you are."

You've had this talk with him plenty of times in the past, especially when he had low nights. Jack always thought he was cursed to be alone for all his life, needing to deal with his Lychanthropy that wasn't going to go away. It broke your own heart to seem like that, hearing him say that he deserved to be alone. Jack was far too kind to be alone, far to good tot hose around him that would be mean back to him. Too full of love to not have it shared.

"I love all of you,Jack. There is nothing you can do that can make me love you any less," You vowed to him as he grinned widely at you, probably already accepting his fate with you. He leaned down to kiss you softly, with no urgency there in his kisses and his hands along your skin. It felt like liquid fire, you melting under his touch within seconds as his kisses were moving along your lips to your jawline, his finger moving to take the sheet from covering you up. You felt briar to him then as his lips still made their decent, Jack knowing he was never one with his words.

But he was good with his actions instead. So he would show you how much you meant to him.

The End.

Valentine Prompt Session

#jack russell x reader #jack russell x y/n #jack russell x you #jack russell x fem!reader #jack russell #werewolf by night fanfiction #werewolf by night #werewolf by night x reader #marvel cinematic universe #marvel cinematic fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe fanfiction #mcu writing #mcu fanfiction #mcu phase 4

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crazycatfaery · 2 months ago

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ΉΣᄂᄂӨ, ƬΉIƧ IƧ ПӨƬ ΉIᄂᄂIΣ! Was it getting too quiet in your inbox? 🤭 Your last set of answers means there’s more on my inspirational moodboard… but it also means I’m back to bother you! 🧚

1 - “But HEX anon! 😱 You didn’t ask about the other other ship in my form!” Until now, that is! So today’s your chance. What draws you to the idea of Ben ⚗️ and Luna 🌙? What do they see in each other, what connects them, how did anything happen? It’s such a mystery to me 🔎 I want to see them through your eyes to build your gift properly or I’m just snoopy for spoopy season 🎃, so please share!

2 - Fluff and whump, or fluff or whump? What’s your favorite flavor of each?

3 - And just for fun, a little wintery quickfire round: ❄️ hot chocolate or mulled cider? ❄️ fairy lights or fireplace? ❄️ cold fingers or cold nose? ❄️ ice skating or skiing? ❄️ lazy mornings or cozy nights?

Until next time! ✨💚

Hi Anon, welcome back! I was wondering if you’d appear again soon actually! 😊

*Rubs hands together in excitement* Let’s see what questions you have for me this time, and how long my answers will be 😅.

1 - Ben/Luna: Oh dear, I completely forgot that I put this ship in there as well. Ben x Luna is one of the pairings I never had thought of before, until I saw a fic with the ship in the tags, and I got curious. I like the idea of a redemption arc for Luna, and a lot of fics I've read so far with these two include exactly that. Canon Ben and Luna seem like some of the farthest removed from becoming a couple of all the character pairings, and I don’t think they even interacted with each other throughout the whole series (if I remember correctly).

I don’t have strict headcanons about them. They’re great for a kind of enemies to lovers trope imo, like for example Luna could try to persuade Ben to spy on Rosalind for her or something, but Ben only knows Luna from stories of her interactions with Farah. Or maybe they met plenty of times but she never truly acknowledged him? So I imagine he’d be quite taken aback by her suddenly trying to use him. And then Ben goes off to a different school. So far I have no idea how I would work Luna back into that (yet). And to get them together in the end Ben has to at least return to Alfea for some reason (although, their rendez vous could start before that, who knows).

For this ship to eventually sail, I think they would somehow have to be forced to trust each other, like Ben has to save Luna from something, or something happens that causes her triple-layered mask to drop and be vulnerable with him. Ben is a bit of a softie, but also a caretaker I think? So I imagine him naturally wanting to be there for people who might need it, and I really think stubborn, prideful Luna could use someone to lean on. I feel like she never truly experienced unconditional love, with her being the crown princess and now queen. If you’d follow my Ben/Rose headcanon, then Ben has, so he could give her that.

I could go on and on about this and accidentally write half a fic myself, so I'll stop now.

2 - Fluff and/or Whump: Hmm, I don’t necessarily go looking for whump on its own, I mostly accidentally stumble into it through the fluff or silrah tags. So I don’t really have a favorite flavor of whump? I do prefer when the whump gets resolved though. I tried writing whump and it just turned into angst, though I got told that could count as emotional whump?

As for fluff, I enjoy it the most in combination with angst! Fluff on its own can be nice too, but in that format I tend to only read oneshots. I vaguely remember reading a Silrah fic that ended up going on and on with just fluff, and I got really bored. I have tried writing a pure fluff fic myself, and ended up inserting small bits of angst anyway 😂. With longfics I mostly enjoy reading and writing fluff before and/or after the angst or whump, and/or bits sprinkled throughout.

Conclusion: I love angst.

3 - Quickfire round: Hot chocolate (if you’d said mulled wine it would’ve been way harder to choose), fairy lights (I love a good fire, but fairylights can be used year round!), cold nose (I hate hate hate hate cold fingers. And toes.), ice skating, cozy nights.

Hope this all helps with your moodboard, and that I didn’t just end up giving you even more options, oops!

#Another one of my small essays #I hope everyone who likes to read everyones HEX replies enjoys reading #If not I'm so sorry #ftwsholidayexchange

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mlbigbang · 2 years ago

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2022 Ladynoir Fic Rec List

It's the end of the year which means it's finally time for the ML Big Bang's yearly fic rec lists! We're really excited to bring you our contributors' favourite fics started this year to supply you with plenty of reading material while you're waiting for the Big Bang fics' publication in January.

Movie Date, Interrupted by @purrfectlypunny 1,043 words, General, 1/1 chapter

Ladybug and Chat Noir finally have time to spend together at a movie; unfortunately, a goofy akuma and a moody teenager have other plans.

"The dynamic between Ladybug and Chat is so good!!"

Polaris by @miabrown007 4,029 words, Teen, 3/3 chapters

Adrien had lost everything. Along with his Miraculous, he gave up his freedom, his kwami, his partner; there’s nothing else left to lose. But maybe it is an akuma attack going so predictably wrong all it takes to change his fate, and prove his worth in the team to the only person doubting it: himself. *** Kuro Neko-divergent hurt/comfort fic

"I am weak for any hurt/comfort that is made worse (better) by identity barriers. This fic very much delivers."

breaking me down to my knees in the dead of night by @sunfoxfic 2,429 words, General, 1/1 chapter

Marinette ran off in the middle of an argument and Adrien panicked. Now, he has showed up to patrol as Catwalker, and he has to lie in the bed he's made, even if he overreacted a bit much.

"(technically Ladywalker, but anyway…) A very sweet fluff-and-angst fic that gently but realistically portrays neurodivergence."

Maintaining a Professional Distance by @buggachat 43,417 words, Teen, 11/11 chapters

“I mean, how dumb does the mayor think we are? Offering us a permanent hotel room as a ‘gesture of gratitude for all our work for Paris’, like it isn’t clearly just some half-baked political ploy to place him more in the public’s favor after the whole school funding scandal, like we’ll allow ourselves to sleep in a hotel that we were publicly offered, making ourselves sitting ducks for Hawkmo—” “It’s a pretty big building,” he countered, and at least he seemed amused, because she certainly wasn’t, “Nobody knows which room we were given but us.” “It doesn’t matter!” she scoffed, “It’s still a security risk that he can narrow our location down at all! Also,” she jutted her arms out towards the bed a second time, “May I remind you? ONE. BED. ONE!” ——— Or, Ladybug and Chat Noir receive a hotel room from the city, which they most certainly will not use. After all, that wouldn't be very professional, would it? Yes, it's a Ladynoir bed sharing fic.

"Genuinely one of the most in character Ladynoir fics I've read. I love how the conflicts are resolved, how the characters deal with the fallout, and how no one is villainized. There's the "there's only one bed" trope, Marinette is a MESS but we love her for it, clownbug, Adrien is oblivious, Chat is a dork. Fun times all around."

"The best "There was only one bed" fic you will ever read. Ladybug and Chat Noir get their own dedicated suite in Le Grand Palais, as thanks for their continuing work protecting the city. Only one bed shouldn't be a problem since they both have a home and a bedroom anyway, right? Except.... sometimes Marinette needs to get away from the kwamis and have some space, and sometimes (a lot) Chat Noir needs to get away from whatever is happening with his family, soooooo..... "Friends with benefits without the benefits" is the perfect tag. It's hilarious. It's sweet. It's romantic and emotional."

Hamburger Ladybug by RaspberryCatapult 1,773 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

Ladybug runs into a burning building. What comes out no longer resembles anything that can be described as a person.

"So, it's a little graphic, as it's about Ladybug running into a burning building, getting charred up, and Chat staying with her in the hospital. BUT...it is beautifully written - descriptive and emotionally spot on (pun intended). And the ending is mind-blowing. It never leaves you. Totally original."

i am not a puppet (i will work against your strings) by @bugchat 7,525 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

Nothing quite hurts like loneliness– unless you count being thrown against a wall at top speed, while Ladybug’s horrified expression follows you. Adrien questions how he got here, pressed against a wall while fighting for his life, watching the city crumble around him while Ladybug stares. There are other heroes, a second, third, fourth villain, and all he’s done is give the villain the power to win. It’s over.

"GORGEOUSLY WRITTEN!!!! in love with how Cartara provided an Adrien POV to the season 4 final!!!!"

Wait— Don't let this line go slack by DescentIntoAbsurdity 14,418 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

I think you've got the wrong number She sends her simple text, satisfied. Then she goes about and wipes down the benches and puts away the flour, and thinks, wait. I have a thousand neighbourhood cats that loiter around my apartment complex and threaten me for food. I cook cat treats in my free time. I know what to feed cats. Marinette deals with her crush on Adrien, cute neighbour and well-known model. She also tries to cope with baking in her free time, and her college assignments, and her growing feelings for Chat Noir; a boy who accidentally texted her regarding his cat. It's going about as well as can be expected.

"loved to follow their interractions via text and their fumblings irl"

Take 31 #LadyNoir kiss, action! by @malauu-ladynoir 41,422 words, Teen, 31/31 chapters

How many kisses does it take to let feelings spread free? How many redo to finally get over the subdued inhibition? Is it a first tentative kiss propelling you in an awkward leap into the unknown? Or is it the one built from years of holding back repressed feelings? When Ladybug and Chat Noir get asked to play themselves in a movie the drama doesn’t just stay on set. With a new nemesis, a dreaded kissing scene, consuming feelings and a new revelation can Ladybug finally give in to what she’s always held back…her love for her partner? Can Chat Noir's heart still be able to surrender?

"I absolutely loved Ladynoir's dynamic in this fic, it's so good!"

one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus 99,476 words, Mature, 34/43 chapters

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace. Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack for the last remaining Miraculous: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most. Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

"Quite possibly my favorite ml fic ever. Is really all sides of the love square (Ladynoir is emphasized, especially towards the beginning, also Mari...walker?), as well as other pairings (Lukazoe, DJwifi, and Feligami), and a lot of amazing action and office espionage. Chat Noir was killed by Monarch in front of all of Paris, and Ladybug swore revenge. Now, after a strange visit from Bunnyx, Monarch is suddenly back, along with a team of Miraculous users that Ladybug has to face all by herself. Amazing character interactions, new uses of Miraculouses, fantastic action scenes, and heartbreak, heartbreak everywhere. Also senticousins."

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ml fic recs #fic recs #ml big bang 2022 #ml big bang #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir

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duskholland · 4 years ago

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Settle || Mob!Tom Smut

summary ↠ distance may make the heart grow fonder, but you’d spend every day by tom’s side if you could. warnings ↠ a bit of angst, and this is just.... so fucking smutty.... pwp but make it 8k of smut... 18+ minors dni !!!!!!!!!!! extended nsfw warnings below the cut <3 word count ↠ 11.7k. a/n ↠ lads... lost my mind I’ve lost it. the mob!tom energy has been absolutely overwhelming for the last month, and this has been a long time coming. thank you esquire. thank you gq. thanks tom too, I guess, even though his handsomeness is a double-edged sword. also thanks to chloe for motivating me to write this lmao. this was a lot of fun!! softness sweetness debased animalistic crazy stuff. we love to see it. lmk what you think !! <3 ***this is a part of my mob!tom series – a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. you don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended warnings ↠ praise kink, breeding kink, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, crying, biting, spitting, oral + fingering (fem receiving), unprotected sex (the long-awaited return of cum-dumpster!reader), minor d/s dynamics ft soft!dom!tom, possessiveness in the dirty talk, and I wouldn’t say it’s degradation but there is some patronisation lmao. this is intense loving passionate consuming smut, esp the second section. pls practice safe sex irl x

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧ *:･ﾟSETTLE･ﾟ:*✧

Tom is wrapped around you, his rich scent overpowering each one of your senses. He consumes you. He becomes you.

With your face buried in the crook of his neck and your legs swung either side of his thighs, you’re clinging tightly to him. One of his hands rests beneath the shirt on your back, the tips of his fingers slowly stroking up and down your spine, and you can feel the firm press of his nose against the side of your head. His face nestles against your hair as he holds you to the warm skin of his neck. Every few minutes, Tom pulls away from the documents and spreadsheets resting on his desk and litters the side of your temple with short kisses.

There’s a persistent throbbing between your legs, but it’s worth it. Tom’s cock is buried inside you, his length enveloped by your silky heat. You can feel him, bearing in on every intimate space of your cunt. In your aroused state, you swear you can make out the lines of his bulbous head and the curves of his veins as they press up against your sensitive walls. You’re pulsing—every slight movement made by either you or him causing you to gasp softly and cling closer to your boyfriend.

“God, darling,” Tom murmurs, accented voice hanging low and heavy. He strokes over your back again, and you hear him click his ballpoint pen. When he tosses the heavy metal object back onto the desk, he sits back in the wide office chair that the two of you are precariously balanced on. You aren’t scared of falling off—you’ve done this before, countless times. You know that he’s got you. “So fuckin’ snug, aren’t you?”

You pull away from your boyfriend’s neck, sucking in a rough breath as you sit up to face him and receive the lightest of friction against your g-spot. As your teeth dig into your lower lip, you take a few moments to admire his ensemble—light white shirt, unbuttoned and hanging open, a delicate silver chain dangling over the golden expanse of his chest. He’s got his rings stacked over his fingers, and the bright metal pieces catch in your hair as he smoothes a hand across your cheek.

Tom smirks at you, his deep brown eyes flooded with lusting appreciation. With one hand on your face, the other slowly slides down your back, drifting over the loose shirt that covers your figure until it disappears between your legs. You cry out as his index finger reaches down to play with your clit, still wet and sensitive from his exploration earlier. He’d opened you up on his tongue before sheathing himself inside you.

“You just got so tight, angel,” he murmurs, voice raspy. “Do you like when I show you a bit of attention?”

“Yeah,” you whimper. You can barely keep your eyes open as he continues to toy with your bud. It’s hard to push down the temptation to start riding him, but you know that’s not the point of this. As much as you crave release and the opportunity to fall apart whilst being encompassed by Tom, there are other objectives at play. “I’ll miss this,” you admit. “I’ll miss you.”

“I know, my darling.” Tom’s expression briefly clouds over, some of the heat leaving his eyes. He rolls the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone, a gentle pout curling across his lower lip. “I don’t want to leave you.”

You lick your lower lip, pushing back the hot lump of emotion that simmers in your chest. All week, you’ve felt apprehensive for his departure, anticipating today with unease. Tom is a good businessman, and usually he’s able to control his own empire from the comfort of his West London mansion. For so long, he’s been near you, lingering close, never trailing too far from your side. But there’s uncertainty in the air, and they need him out in Manchester for a few weeks to whip the boys back into shape. Until the supply issue is resolved, he’ll be away—away from you, and your bed, and the life that you’ve constructed so precariously together.

In this world of drugs and darkness, nothing is certain. You fall asleep beside Tom each night thankful that he’s safe, he’s here, he’s content. You know plenty of people who haven’t been afforded such a luxury. Your boyfriend has enemies who seek revenge and retribution, and their greedy eyes follow him from every direction. They’re like wolves, every single one of them—suppliers, rivals, the law—waiting in the shadows, preparing to pounce at the first sign of weakness.

You shouldn’t love him. He’s not a good man. Tom has told you as much repeatedly—in his deprecating words, in the underhanded dealings that go on around your dinner table, through his violent actions against opponents. But he loves you, and he is a good man, to you, and maybe that’s all that matters. Maybe you can take the pain and the darkness, because it affords you a glimmer of light in the form of your boyfriend. Tom holds you at the very centre of his universe, and as he cups your face in a gentle hand and coaxes you in for a sweet kiss, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your life may be characterised by uncertainty, but there is no doubt in the way that he loves you, so recklessly and fiercely. He gives you everything that he has without hesitation.

The kiss grows deeper, and you moan into Tom as he presses his tongue into your mouth. He’s still rolling your clit beneath his thumb, and you reach up to grab fistfuls of his hair. When he’d pulled you into the office earlier and begged you to spend time with him, it’d come with the caveat that you need not distract him from his final pieces of work. He seems to have abandoned that decision now, as he ruts up into you when you groan into his mouth.

“Sweet love,” he purrs, voice darker. Tom squeezes your cheek, the cool metal of his ring pressing to your skin as he holds you tightly. He releases your face a moment later, fingers shifting to your waist as his lips grace over the tender part of your face. “God, I’ll miss you. Miss this fuckin’ cunt.” He kisses down from your cheek, shifting back and towards your ear. You release a wispy moan as he finds your tender spot, sucking harshly against the skin then soothing the ache with his hot tongue. “So perfect for me.”

“You’re perfect,” you murmur, mind slow. Tom holds your hip slowly and encourages you to move, and both of you release sounds of enjoyment as you begin to ride him. Your entrance aches, stretched wide around his girth, but as his finger rubs persistent circles across your bud, it soothes into pleasure. “Fuck, Tom… You fill me up completely. You’re in so deep.”

“I know, darling,” he murmurs. When you toss your head back and start to move faster, he’s quick to attach his lips to your neck. “Tightest little thing,” he adds, voice scalding against your ear. “I know I’ll be dreaming of you, angel. Every single night.”

You cry out as he helps you shift slightly to the side, optimising your pleasure. As the crown of Tom’s cock rubs up against your back wall, you shudder, breath hitching. The sounds of your heat, so wet and silky, being fucked repeatedly as you come down on him again and again spurs you on. It grows wild quickly, Tom leaving your neck and sitting back in his chair just to watch you ride him so perfectly. His eyes are dark and passionate, and his gaze so intense that it’s as if he’s trying to burn the memory to mind.

“I don’t think I can hold it,” you admit, eyes threatening to roll back. After sitting on his cock for fifteen minutes, you were already riled up. Now, you’re on cloud nine. Pleasure has your toes curling, the muscles in your thighs tensing and straining as you cling to the back of Tom’s head and tug on his curls. “T-Tom.”

“That’s it, gorgeous. Say my name.”

His ring digs into your side, spurring you on. As the cool metal nicks at your skin, the coil in your stomach tightens further.

“Oh,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut. No longer able to see Tom’s handsome face, you’re left only with the sensations, pulsing out from your centre. You’re on the verge, inching closer with every time Tom pulls you back onto his cock. He works you open, thrusts into you deep, leaves you gasping.

“C’mon, pretty baby,” he murmurs, hot lips moving forward to press at your neck. “Make me cum. I know you want it, don’t you?”

A throaty groan travels past your lips as you know exactly what he’s talking about. You’d stopped taking birth control a week ago, and though both of you know that the chances of you falling pregnant so soon after ending those hormones are slim, the possibility is there. Sex now feels dangerous, the extra weight to it filling you with arousal and excitement.

“Yes,” you whimper. “Please.”

Tom nips at your ear, the bite of pain making you moan.

“Go on,” he coos, voice sweet, sultry. “I’m going to fill you up, darling. Give you something to remember me by.” His hand slips from his waist and travels to your lower stomach, resting there. “Right here,” he adds. “Do you want it, love? You need to work for it. Cum on my cock, mm? Let me feel how desperate your tight little pussy is for my cum.”

Tom snaps his hips up to yours, and a few moments later, you peak. Your climax burns through you, your walls clamping down around his length in a way that makes him groan loudly. You open your eyes to watch his face seize up, freezing with pleasure and enjoyment as his jaw tenses and his eyes squeeze shut. You feel his cock pulsing as you continue to move over him, lost in the pleasure that spirals out from your cunt and your clit. His pants are laboured too.

When you come down from it, you settle in his lap, sweaty palms grasping at his face. Tom pulls you closer, wrapping you up in his arms as he presses his forehead to yours. His nose bumps against yours, tip warm. Every part of him is warm.

“I love you so much,” he says, voice serious. “More than you could ever imagine, Y/N.”

You smile. “I love you too,” you whisper.

Tom pulls back from you to pepper his lips across your face, dusting every inch of your skin with his mouth. You’re still connected at your centre, and you know the moment you stand, you’ll feel the evidence of his love dripping down your thighs.

“I—”

A rough knocking sound bursts into the room, hard knuckles drumming over the office door. You jump, and Tom’s brows crease. He brings both of his hands to cover your ears and kisses the tip of your nose before sitting up a little straighter.

“What the fuck do you want?” he hollers, voice terse. He’s muffling the volume with his palms, but you still wince, and he kisses your nose again in penance.

“Sir, we have to go. The men are waiting—”

Tom’s face ripples with irritation. You watch the vein stand out in his neck, fading only when his eyes sweep back to your face. He deflates as he brings his lips down across your forehead.

“I’ll be two minutes,” he barks back. “Now piss off. I’m with my girl.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom peels his hands away from your ears, then rubs each one of your earlobes with the soft pads of his thumbs. “Sorry about that, my darling,” he mumbles, shadows covering his features. His teeth dig into his lower lip as he sighs. “I need to go.”

You feel your face fall, and break eye contact when the intensity of his gaze grows too much. “Okay,” you mumble.

“Hey.” Tom grasps your chin between his index and his middle finger. “I’ll come back to you,” he promises. You know he can feel your reluctance to let him go, can see it on your face without you having to verbalise it. You wonder if he’s been able to tell how unsettled you feel about the whole ordeal, and if maybe that’s why he’s let you be more clingy this week.

“What if you don’t?” you breathe out, unable to keep it in. You blink a few times, trying to hide the watery film of tears that shakes across your eyes. “What if something happens to you whilst you’re away, and you don’t come home?” You reach down and grab at his shirt, clenching your knuckles around the crisp material. “Tom, you are my home. I don’t know what I’ll do if—”

“I’ll come back, baby.” He kisses you softly, a few fingers brushing up beneath your chin and tilting you to him. “I always will. I promise. I’m a man of my word, so you know that’s true.”

You manage a thin smile, heart aching even as Tom cups your face in his hands. “I love you,” you say finally. “And I’ll be waiting for you to get back.”

Tom nods. His cheeks are still flushed, and his hair is a mess, but the fire in his eyes is undeniable. When he deposits a light kiss to your cheek and then lets his lips brush you against your earlobe, you know that he’ll be back. You know he’d never fail you.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A month passes. You miss Tom desperately.

For the first three weeks, you manage to control the sadness in your chest. Finding distraction in your job and your friends, you’re able to forget about the giant Tom-shaped hole in your heart. He lingers on, though, his love persistent even in his absence. Despite finding certain ways to limit your anguish, like daily calls, and soaking your wrists in his cologne each morning, the time only worsens your heartache. You’re miserable without him.

In the fourth week, it reaches the point where you can no longer pretend you aren’t aching for him. You miss him in a way you’ve never felt before, his absence from your home like a sharp spire ever-present in your chest, burrowing deeper every lonely morning. Tom can’t ease you, doesn’t know himself when he’ll be able to come home. The job he’s had to do has spiralled, with mutinous men and delayed shipments, and it’s in too precarious a position for him to leave and come back to you. When you’d suggested visiting, he’d immediately wiped that option from the table, citing the acts of violence and uneven atmosphere as too great a risk to take. You understand it, but you miss him, and it permeates every part of your life.

It’s late Tuesday night, and in a fitless trance, you find yourself walking up to the third floor of the mansion. When you’d moved in, almost a year ago, Tom had tried to make you feel as comfortable as possible. In his efforts, he’d installed an art studio for you to use. The gesture went in tandem with his greatest gift to you so far—your very own art gallery, right in the centre of London. The studio is a large room, framed with huge windows which overlook the sprawling estate. Tonight, all you can make out is the dim driveway and the crescent moon, hanging thinly in the sky.

After turning on some music and slipping on your painting apron, you take your place in front of your easel. As you stare at the blank canvas, your fingers shift up to absently run the line of Tom’s ring. It hangs on a chain around your neck, silver and bold. You hadn’t realised that he’d left it with you until you’d reached into your pocket the day of his departure and found it sitting there. You know the matching ring stays wrapped around his pinky finger, and it brings you a sense of comfort to trace the smooth band and feel connected to him, even in a small way.

You decide to paint Tom, trying to coax him to life from your memories. Shades of gold and brown take form over your canvas. With every brush stroke and flick of your wrist, you feel lighter, some of the ache lessening.

Hours pass, interrupted only by the ringing of your phone. Biting back a small curse word as you feel your concentration shatter, you put your paintbrush down and tug your phone from your back pocket. Your frown fades as you see Tom’s name, flashing on the screen besides an image of his face.

“T,” you greet, the relief in your voice obvious even to you. “Hey.”

There’s silence for a few moments, then his voice crackles down the line. “Hi, darling,” Tom speaks. “It’s not too late to talk, is it?”

You glance up at the ornate clock sitting on the wall. The feature is grand and solid gold, matching the themes of the rest of his house. Tom likes decadence. His luxurious touch is evident in the patterns of red, black, and metals that cling to each article of furniture. When you see that it’s 2am, you blink a few times, shaking off your surprise as you realise how much time has passed since you’d started to paint.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I’m painting.”

“Ahhh.” You hear the rustling of sheets, and you imagine Tom in bed. He’s probably bundled up in sweats and a hoodie, sprawled out across his mattress. The house in Manchester always runs cold, and you’ve heard his complaints consistently for the last few weeks. The image of him resting up against the headboard, pouting from beneath a pile of blankets makes you smile. “What are you working on?”

You smile into your phone, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “You,” you tell him. “Just your eyes at the moment, and the outline of your hair.”

“Me again?” Tom speaks, and his tone is like soft velvet, gentle and crushing at the edges. “I’m flattered, darling.”

“Mmm.” You fiddle with his ring. “I’ll need to dedicate a wall to you in the gallery. You’re my favourite muse.”

Tom chuckles. “That’d be an honour,” he says, voice dropping in volume. “It’s a privilege to be loved by you.” His voice twangs sadly, and you feel yourself frowning.

“Are you okay, baby?”

He’s quiet for a few moments. You find yourself biting your lip.

“Yeah,” he says, voice thicker. “Long day.”

“What did you do?”

He sucks in a harsh breath, air catching on the back of his teeth. “Can we just talk about you for a minute?”

Worry furrows your brow. “Okay,” you say, drawing out the syllable as you scramble for words to fill the gap. “Today I visited your mother.”

“Oh?”

“She wanted me to show her how I made those biscuits, from your birthday last year?” You pause until he makes a noise of recognition. “Ended up staying there for a while, had some tea. Gossiped about you.”

Tom snorts. “Learn anything good?”

“Only that you were just as much of a terror as a child,” you reply. “She sent me photos. I’ll text them to you later.”

It’d been a sobering experience to see Tom so animated and innocent as a child, but you don’t tell him that. So much as changed since he was seven and running through a field with his brothers. He has lost more than you could ever fathom.

“Did she show you the one with my head half shaved?”

You laugh. “Yeah,” you say, smiling against the phone. You’re holding the device tightly in your fingers, clinging to it almost desperately. “I can’t believe Harry did that to you.”

“Well, I did piss him off,” Tom reasons. “I got him back, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah, darling. Put a bunch of, like, millipedes and creepy crawly things in his bed.” Tom pauses to laugh, his voice lighter. “He hated me for about a year after that. Tried to kill me with his eyes every time he saw me.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re a nightmare,” you respond. “I’m seeing him at the weekend, and Sam. I can’t wait to get their perspectives on the demon you used to be.”

“I’m still a demon now, darling.”

“Yeah.” You lick across your lower lip, mind briefly darkening. He can be particularly devilish, whenever the mood strikes. “Love you, though.”

“And I love you.” Tom’s quiet again for a few moments, and when he speaks, his voice is gentle, “I love how much you like my family. It’s really special to me that you get along with them.”

You suck on your lower lip. “Of course,” you reply. “I love them. They… They feel like my brothers too, sometimes. Is that weird?”

“No.” You hear rustling again, followed by a soft grunt as he tries to find a better position to lay in. “Darling, family is everything to me, you know that. It’s a joy to see you fit in with my family, and I know they love you like a sister, too. Mum’s always saying how she sees you like a daughter.”

You glance up at your canvas, the shapes blurring with unshed tears. “She said that today, actually,” you murmur.

“Exactly.” Tom’s voice is passionate, alight and engaged. You can feel his strain. “You’re family.”

The air between you stills, and you wonder if he knows that you’re on the verge of tears, if he knows how grateful you are to him for inviting you into his life and letting you touch each piece of him without hesitation. The intricacies of his soul have gone so long unfelt, but he’s let you handle them, let you dust them off and admire them.

“Show me your art?” Tom adds, voice slightly thicker. “Please?”

“One sec.” You swallow down the hot lump of emotions that press at the back of your throat and pull your phone away from your ear. After briefly tousling your hair, you tap at the screen and enable the video setting. You flip the camera so it’s facing out in front of you, the canvas being framed by your phone screen. “This is what I’ve been doing today… Over there are the ones from the last few weeks.”

Tom spends a few minutes on a virtual tour of your studio, cooing soft words of endearment as you talk him through each piece. He’s tired, his voice often interspersed with soft yawns and grunts of fatigue, but he blows away all suggestions of disconnecting. Your tour takes you all throughout the house, showing him the slight alterations you’ve made to a few pieces of furniture in his absence. You end up in your bedroom, showing him the new blanket you bought for your bed.

“I want to see your face,” you whine, finally settling in bed. You’re laying on his side, head resting on top of the pillow that smells of him. Tom had watched you change into pyjamas, witnessed you brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed. All you’ve had is a black screen. “How am I supposed to sleep without seeing you, Tommy?” You pout at the blank phone, trying really hard to get him to yield. It’s 3am now and you’re delirious with fatigue, but you’re craving him more than ever.

“I don’t look nice, though,” he complains. “I look ugly.”

You practically recoil at the words. You hope he can feel the ferocity in your gaze as you glare at your phone’s camera.

“You don’t,” you say. “You never look anything short of handsome.”

Tom chuckles. “You’re too kind,” he says, “but really. I got beat up a bit. My face is all…” He makes a sound of nonchalance. “Well.. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know the gory details.”

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead at the word gory. “Show me,” you ask, voice softer. You snuggle further into bed, pulling the sheets further around your figure and trying to pretend you’re being hugged by your boyfriend instead of the feather down duvet. “Please, baby. I’m worried.”

Tom sighs. “Okay, but before I show you, you have to promise not to freak out.” As he sees your widening eyes, he adds. “Exactly! Don’t freak out! I’m fine. Can’t even feel it, the amount of painkillers I’m on. I’m alright.”

“...Okay.”

A few moments pass, and you hear him curse as he clumsily presses at the screen. When your phone lights up, showing a depiction of your boyfriend’s face, you have to bite back a gasp. Bruises cloud his left cheek, deep shades of red clinging to his cheekbone. There are scratches, too, riddled with scabs and lined with pink skin. The most obvious and upsetting sign of his injury however is his nose.

“Did you break your nose again?” you ask, voice soft. The skin beneath his eyes is bruising, and there’s a dark mark across the bridge of his nose.

“No, thank god,” Tom murmurs. “Just got hit on it.”

He’s laying in bed too, and you turn onto your side and prop him up on one of the pillows so it’s as if he’s laying beside you. With a dark burgundy hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring his curls, he looks pale and tepid. His cheeks are sunken, and it’s not just from the injury. Tom seems exhausted.

“Are you okay, apart from that?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay, Tom?”

He offers a weak smile. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” His voice fades with each iteration. You watch as Tom bites his lower lip, then reaches up to press his fingers into the tense lines of his pebbled forehead. “Just tired, darling. It’s been a busy week.”

“Come home,” you say, sleepy and wistful. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I can’t, my darling,” he mumbles. Tom’s eyes look at you sadly. “Things would fall apart.”

“You’re falling apart.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?”

Tom’s quiet for a while, and you watch him swallow. He gives you a tense nod, lips pulled into a frown. “I have to be.”

His words hurt you, but you know you shouldn’t push it further. Not with his eyes glassy and his chin twitching.

“You don’t,” you say softly. “Come home.”

Tom hums. His eyes are like two diamonds, holding the weight of the world, of a life so recklessly lived. His gaze skitters across your phone, and he arches a brow when he sees you stifle a yawn. “Goodnight, darling.”

You wish you could hold him, or touch him. You wish you could get anything more than the static and the empty bed.

“Night, Tom,” you whisper. “Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams to you too, baby.” Tom puckers up his lips and blows you a kiss. You return it, lips tweaking into a soft smile. “Love you more than anything.”

Your voice feels thick as you echo the sentiments. “Talk tomorrow,” you murmur, tired. “Love you.”

“Bye, bye, bye.”

You’re the one to disconnect, unable to take the imminent heartache that comes with being the last to say goodbye. Tom fades, and you let your phone fall over.

The pain returns, pressing into your heart. It’s raw and cold, and it makes you shiver. A few tears soak into the pillow that smells of him, cool against your hairline.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You wake up the next morning, slowly at first, then all at once.

It’s light in your bedroom. Your sleepy mind wonders if you’d forgotten to draw the curtains when you’d crashed out last night. As you bemoan the bright light that hurts your closed eyes, you slowly twitch awake. Feeling an ache in your arm, you try to move, only to find something rendering you incapacitated. You frown in your tired haze, trying again to move, just to stay exactly where you are again. Your brows furrow next, and you slowly rouse to consciousness as you try to work out what’s going on.

Your heart rate spikes as you realise there are two arms wrapped around you. Warmth envelops you, pressing into your back, your legs, your waist. You jerk awake, panicking for a moment before you feel his lips on your shoulder, and smell the familiar scent of him.

“Shh, darling. It’s me.”

Immediately, you roll over, twisting in his arms until you’re looking at him. His eyes are soft, hair a mess, and he offers you the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Tom?!” you exclaim, voice catching in the back of your throat. “H-How— but—?”

Both of Tom’s hands go to your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a blinding morning kiss. You sigh as warmth fills every part of you, his lips washing away the angst and the sadness you’d felt just hours earlier. You moan into it, a soft rumble, and curl into him. As you run your hands over his bare form, you appreciate how his muscles are firm and supple beneath your fingertips. You map him out attentively, touch dipping into the shades of his muscles as you try to imprint him to your memory again.

When Tom breaks the kiss, he presses his lips to the tip of your nose. As his warm breath fans out across your face, he stares at you, eyes gentle. Keeping one hand on your cheek, Tom lets the other drift down. When he reaches your neck, he tugs at the chain you keep looped around your throat, his nimble fingers going to play with the ring on the end, still there, hanging between you.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says slowly. He pulls on the chain and brings you in nearer, kissing you again, softly. “We said goodnight, and...”

Your hands are in his hair, gently stroking the mane from his face. It’s longer now, thicker and brighter than before. You push it away and look at his features. The bruises don’t seem as pronounced now, and you think he must’ve spent time in the sun. Light freckles dust the bridge of his nose, slanted and wonky but perfect nonetheless.

“Hmm?”

Tom licks his lips. “I couldn’t stay away any longer. I left it all to Haz.” Again, he steals your lips in a kiss. He follows up the action with several more, light dustings in quick succession. He tastes minty, and you wonder how long he’s been cuddling you. “I don’t care if we lose Manchester. I don’t care if we lose everything.” He swallows seriously. “I can’t lose you.”

“You were never going to lose me,” you whisper. You brush your thumb across his unscarred cheekbone. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But I missed you,” Tom whines. He drops his face, lips drifting down to suckle at the base of your neck. You giggle as he leaves tickling kisses all over your skin, mouthing at all the spots that make you laugh until he’s found his way up to your lips. With a hand on your jaw, fingers on your chin, he guides your face to look at him. “Time away gave me a lot of time to think,” he adds, voice drifting lower. A shadow of a doubt passes over his face. “I spent a long time pondering.”

“Yeah?” If he wasn’t holding you so tightly, you’d be concerned. Instead, you continue to muss your thumb across his cheekbone, gazing at him adoringly. “What were you thinking about?”

“Hmm. Well…” Tom lies back, sitting up with his elbow digging into the pillow as he turns to rest on his side. You mirror his position, stretching out your legs beneath the covers as a small yawn slips past you. “I realised that you’re the only person who makes a nice cup of tea. Even I can’t make one as well as you.”

You smile softly. “Don’t let Harrison hear that.”

He chuckles. “He’d be a bitch about it.” Tom’s eyes slide over your figure, gaze soft. You hum in quiet agreement, and he sucks in another breath. “I realised that no one else loves my friends like you do, and the same with my family.” Tom reaches out, hand slithering beneath the duvet until he finds your waist. His fingers are smooth, without the jewelry that usually adorns them. His calloused fingertips roll across your hip, and everything about the moment feels bare and authentic. “I love you now, and I know that I’ll love you forever.”

Something inside your chest clicks, and you find yourself looking at him a little differently.

“Where’s this all coming from?” you ask, looking at him, eyes wide.

“My heart.” Tom pulls you a little closer, and you think you see him swallow nervously. “C’mere, angel.” He turns and lays on his back, gently coaxing you to straddle him.

You settle over him, laying on top of his bare chest. He’s in boxers, and they rub up against your shorts as you shift around on top of him. Tom’s hair presses into the white pillow, wild and messy, but not unlike a halo. With the late morning sun highlighting his worn face with golden stripes, he looks ethereal.

“Darling,” he murmurs. “Gimme a kiss.”

You bend over, and Tom greets you with a warm open-mouthed kiss. He doesn’t seem to care that you’re tired and groggy as he reaches out to cup your cheek, the other hand resting on your hip. You smile against his lips as his fingertips dip beneath the material of your shirt, rubbing light circles to your flesh as you sit up eagerly and press back in. His kisses feel like droplets of fire, setting off small chain reactions with each press of his lips to yours.

When you pull back to admire him, the chain around your neck goes swinging. Your eyes widen as you hear the thump of heavy metal colliding with Tom’s chin, followed by his soft grunt.

“Oh,” you exclaim, immediately feeling your face fall. “I’m sorry, baby. I always forget about the ring on the end.” You bend over to kiss his chin, then sit up straighter, hands absently travelling along the chain. The metal feels familiar beneath your fingertips, and you sigh softly. “I haven’t taken it off since you left,” you admit. “It was nice feeling connected to you, and the ring you left—”

The words die in the back of your throat when you reach for the ring and feel two instead of one, looped side by side on the chain. Confusion twitches across your face as you look down and inspect the piece of jewelry.

Tom’s ring is still on the chain, silver and bold, but sitting beside it is a dantier ring, the band thinner. It lacks the brash family crest that Tom’s harbours so proudly, and has a diamond as its centrepiece. Your fingers go to it immediately, and you find yourself trembling as you pull it closer to your face, inspecting the perfect cut of the sparkling diamond. It’s a large jewel, but it isn’t too flashy, and the ornate twisting of the band is beautiful.

You look back to Tom, who’s watching you with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. Nerves shadow every one of his features, and it’s such a rare look on him that it takes you off guard.

“Angel,” he says slowly, reaching out to take one of your hands. “I love you. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together… I want to grow old with you by my side, and wake up to you each morning. I want to watch our kids muck around in the back garden, and I know… I know I’m not supposed to want these things. I don’t deserve them, and I’m being incredibly selfish even having you here with me right now, but I love you, and nothing will ever change that.” Tom squeezes your hand. “You’re the only woman in the world that I’d ever be able to love like this, and it would be the greatest honour of my life if you married me.”

You’re quiet for a few moments, processing his words. Entranced, you shake off his hand and reach up, tugging off the chain that hangs so heavily from your neck. You unpick the clasp and the necklace falls open, depositing both of the rings into the palm of your hand. They sit there, side by side, and you feel a tear skate down your cheek.

“Tom,” you say, voice thick with tears. “I’d love to marry you.”

The rings press into your palm as he hurries up to kiss you, smiling against yours lips. Tom’s nose nuzzles against yours, and when he pulls back, you see his eyes are red too.

“Thank fuck,” he murmurs. “I was so worried for a second that you were going to say no.”

Your laugh is light and vibrant, and you hold out your hand for Tom to pick up the engagement ring. As he slides the engagement band up your finger, you take his ring, chunky and heavy, and tenderly press it up his finger, joining it with his fourth finger instead of his index. You bend over to kiss the rise of his knuckles, then pull back as you feel him do the same to yours. Through blurry eyes, you bring your hand towards you and admire the gem as it sparkles there.

“In what world would I ever say no to this?” you muse, after a few moments. “I want to be with you forever, Tom. You know that.” Tom’s still looking at his ring, at where it joins at his knuckle, but he glances up when you drift nearer. “I came off birth control.”

His eyes darken slightly. “I know.”

You hold his face in his hands. “You’re silly,” you say. You peck his cheek. “I need to brush my teeth,” you decide. You know exactly where this is going, and you want it to be perfect.

Tom pouts, but he helps you up from his lap. He watches you walk across the room, and his gaze stays on you as you keep the door to the en-suite open and start to brush your teeth. “Miss you, darling,” he calls out. You roll your eyes, but your heart beats a little faster. “You look ethereal.”

When you’re finished in the bathroom, you hurry back to bed. You find your way back into Tom’s lap, sinking into him to share a fresh kiss. “Tell me more about what you want with me,” you continue, voice darker.

With a determined smirk on his lips, Tom flips you. You release a huff of air as you find yourself laying on the mattress, head on the pillow, with him suspended above you. He plants a forearm on either side of your head and gazes down at you fondly.

“I want to settle down with you,” he says slowly. “Maybe start to divide my assets, give a little bit more power to Haz. I want to focus on you.” He pecks your lips before continuing. “I want to watch your gallery grow into the most successful place in London, and I want to be by your side at every opening. I want a big white wedding, with the cake, and the confetti, and the best honeymoon that’s ever been had. I am going to spoil you rotten.”

“You already do a very good job of that.”

“I’ll kick it up a level. I’ll have to. You’ll be my wife.” Tom’s face darkens. His hand shifts down to rest over your lower stomach. “We’ll need to wait for a lot of those things to happen, but there’s one thing that I want that we can start working on right now.”

Your mouth goes dry, and you feel the space between your legs throb. You tilt your head to the side as you stare up at his handsome face. “And what would that be?”

“Our heirs, darling.” He smirks when you whimper, warm fingers dipping beneath your shirt until he’s able to touch the flesh of your belly more directly. “I’m gonna fill you up with my babies, angel. Fuck you really good. ‘M gonna keep cumming until you’re full of me, then fuck you full again.”

You moan as he drops his face to your ear, suckling hard marks against your skin. “Fuck,” you murmur, burying your hands in his hair. “That sounds so obscene.”

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you? You’re my dirty little thing, hm?” Tom bites at your neck, teeth nipping you and making you shiver. “I know you want me to cum in you so much that it drips down your thighs for hours after I’m gone. You want me to make a mess of your pretty cunt.”

“Please, Tom,” you whimper. You feel hot and bothered already.

“Eager, darling?” Tom sits back and gently reaches for the hem of your pyjama top. You bring your hands above your head as he gently tugs it up your arms, throwing it off to the side without thought. He crawls back over you and seizes your breasts in his hands, his metallic ring like a cool shock against your skin. When he nibbles at your nipple and follows up the action with a lap of his tongue, you whimper.

“Don’t be a tease,” you beg, squeezing your thighs together. “I need you, Tom. Haven’t been with you in so long.”

He looks up at you, tit held between his lips. Tom winks as he gives the bud a noisy suck, then pulls back to address the other. He keeps his thumbs busy, and as he moves away his mouth, he replaces his touch with the pad of his fingers, swirling his spit around your skin with ease.

“There’s no rush,” he announces. He keeps his hands on your breasts, kneading softly and stimulating your nipples as he knows you like, but his mouth starts to move. Tom trails light kisses down your form, keeping his eyes on yours. He observes you through darkened eyes. “Don’t whinge,” he adds, the tips of his teeth sparkling ravenously. “I’m going to fuck you so well you’ll cry, but not yet. Let me enjoy this.”

His promise makes you squirm, and Tom takes advantage of the fact your hips are off the bed and tugs your shorts and panties down your legs in one fell swoop. As you part your legs, you invite him closer, biting back a frown as Tom settles between your thighs but pays your legs attention instead of your centre. Your folds are slick already—you can feel them wet, hot, pulsing with more urgency the longer you spend watching your boyfriend’s muscles flex as he draws his lips across your figure.

Tom teases you, drawing out the moment until you’re quivering. His lips draw down to your shins, his whole body sliding down the bed until he’s just out of reach. You lean back against the pillow and try to enjoy it, revelling in the warmth that he dusts across your bare skin with each small kiss. Tom traces love hearts up your legs with his fingertips, drawing large ones over each one of your knees before tracing over the outline with his tongue. As his spittle cools over your skin, Tom finally parts your thighs.

“Such a pretty sight,” he moans, taking a moment to admire your glistening cunt. You think he’s going to dive straight in, but then he smirks, and you know that was just wishful thinking. Instead, Tom nuzzles his nose against the soft flesh of your inner thigh and goes back to kissing.

He’s needier now, moving with fervour. Sucking harshly, you know he’s marking your inner thighs, drawing an arrow towards your centre with a line of bruises. He delineates his journey, marking out the precise route he needs to take up to your sweet lips as if leaving instructions.

“Tom, please,” you moan. He’s so close to you that you can feel his hot breath coming out across you. He looks up at you and throws out a wild grin, his eyes bright and his smirk as bold as ever. “Please stop teasing me.”

He hums softly. “Okay, my darling,” Tom murmurs. You release a deep sigh of relief. “But only because I can’t go another second without tasting my pussy…” His thumbs gently move along your petals, light with his touch and teasing you until your cunt clenches around nothing. “You don’t mind if I’m a little rough, do you, angel?” He blinks up at you innocently. “I tend to get a little bit lost in you, but you know that by now, don’t you?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Give me anything… ‘m aching for you.”

Tom’s devilish smirk makes you wonder if giving him complete control was a good idea, but the thought goes flying from your mind as he nuzzles his face closer and finally indulges himself. Moaning loudly as he tastes you, his lips gradually envelop your clit, hot tongue lightly glancing off the engorged rise of the bud as you cry out. He’s wet with you, letting his tongue make your slit all messy.

Tom brings two slender fingers to your lips and parts them in a V. His nose brushes up against your clit as he slowly moves down. As the thick muscle of his tongue presses against your dewy entrance, he emits a low-pitched moan.

“God, darling,” he purrs. “Tastes even sweeter than usual.” As the vibrations of his words thrum over your cunt, you shiver and grab at his hair. One of Tom’s hands grabs at your inner thigh, pushing it up and opening you wider until he’s able to move deeper. You gasp as both of his thumbs shift down to hold your lips apart, tender petals parting easily.

As Tom slides his tongue into you, your eyes roll back in your head. You squirm against the sheets as wetness drips between your cheeks, a mix of your heat and his spit as Tom devours you. He moans against you, dragging his tongue against your tender walls. The sensations of his smooth muscle twisting against your sensitive pussy makes you shiver, and when he adds a thumb to your clit, you cry out loudly.

“Tom, oh fuck.”

He traces around your bud with a light finger, teasing the edge of the bud with his fingernail. Impatient and needy, you rut down against him, a choked sob bubbling up in the back of your throat. Your chest is heaving, your nipples perked and erect, and your fingers shake as you hold him to your heat. Tom seems to go deeper with each thrust of his tongue, moaning as he makes you messy, leaving no part of you untouched.

You call out a quiet warning, blind with lust and on the verge of tears. “‘M gonna cum,” you mewl. “Feels too good.”

He hums aggressively against you and dives deeper with his tongue, touching your clit until you peak. The feeling of your walls clenching and contracting against his face makes you whine, rutting down against him as you ride it out. Tom takes it, stays pliant as you grind onto his tongue, continuing to stimulate your passage until your back arches from the bed and you break into a hot sweat. When Tom pulls back, he’s quick to replace his tongue with two fingers, and the moan you release is garbled and excessive.

“T-Tom,” you cry out. He curls his index and middle finger into you with ease, his fourth dropping down to rest between your cheeks. You can feel the metal of his heavy silver ring, cool against your skin. “S’too much.”

He finally looks up at you after an eternity admiring your heat. His eyes are wide and feral, his chin coated in your juices. You whimper as you see streaks of white cum clinging to the early morning shadow of his chin. Tom grins inquisitively as he thrusts his fingers faster, your heat so slick and open that the movement draws out loud noises.

“I don’t think it’s too much, darling,” he mumbles. “I think you’re being my good girl, hm? We’ve barely started.” He drops his lips and nuzzles further between your legs, looking up at you with your clit held loosely in his mouth. He gently laps across the rise before releasing it and pressing a light kiss to the engorged bud. “I’m going to make you cum so much you forget your name, lovie. Gonna show you how much I appreciate you today and for every other day of our lives.”

You like the sound of that, and your cunt throbs persistently as Tom curves his fingers up and his fingertips brush against your ridged g-spot. As your hips threaten to spasm from the bed again, Tom sits up and shifts his arm, so it weighs down your lower stomach. “More,” you decide, hearing your heat prickle as Tom speeds up his fingers.

He adds his ring finger, and you cry out as the smooth band of metal presses up against your entrance. The contrast of cold against the ravaging fire of your hole is almost orgasmic in itself.

“Pretty little pussy,” he muses. “Need to stretch you out for my cock, da’ling. Haven’t taken me in so long, I don’t want to hurt you when I stuff you full.”

You’re so wet. You can feel the flat of Tom’s hand coated in your arousal, hear your heat as he fucks you. You try to pay attention to him, but you find yourself slipping when he drops his lips back to your bud and starts to suck on it. As Tom traces incessant circles over your clit, he alternates between long laps of his tongue and more focused kitten licks. Your desperate fingers curl around the silky sheets as you recognise that he knows your cunt well, and he’s learnt the right angle and depth that he needs to travel to in order to get you to the edge. He’s persistent and ruthless in the pursuit of his objective.

You peak for the second time as he curls his fingertips up against your tender g-spot, moaning around your clit under you’re crying out. Your eyes burn with tears as you call out his name, voice clouded by curse words and desperate sounds of enjoyment. You’re loud, thrashing in the sheets until he has to reach up and press you into place, not moving as he continues to stimulate you through it. It feels unending—an eternal tunnel of throbbing pleasure, your cunt squeezing his digits until it’s almost too much.

When you grow too sensitive, you tell him as much, and Tom pulls back to reach blindly for your hand. He finds it, then separates from your mound. His fingers slowly slip from your aching cunt, causing you to gasp, but he softens it out by kissing over the knuckles of your other hand, then your lower stomach.

“Perfect, angel,” he coos. Tom pushes your legs shut again, being careful not to hurt you as he crawls on top of you. He squeezes your hand as he continues to kiss all over your stomach, hips and chest, retracing his tracks from earlier until he finds your nipples. You moan as he laps at both of them messily before moving up to your face and kissing you intensely. His tongue tastes of your juices, your arousal sticking to his tongue. The tangy hue sticks to your own mouth, and you moan as you taste it.

“God, I love kissing you,” he murmurs against you, voice rumbling into you. Tom gasps your face with his clean hand, holding you tightly. “Could do this for the rest of my life.”

You’re hungry as you chase him, body tired but craving more. As Tom starts to roll his hips against yours, the press of his length to your centre makes you excited.

“I can taste myself on your tongue,” you admit. The blend of you and him makes you feel ravenous.

“Really?” Tom sits up, his face flickering with enjoyment as you start to grind up against his hips. He circles his waist against yours, both of you enjoying the little pleasure until you find the capacity to nod. “You’re nice, aren’t you?”

You lick your lips, watching the way he stares at you. “Yeah,” you say. “Tastes of you, too.”

Tom reaches up, and with the hand still covered in your juices, he feeds three fingers into your mouth. You moan around them as he imitates thrusting motions, smearing your cum over your tongue. There’s a metallic twang as he pushes deeper, his ring brushing up against the tip of your tongue as he fucks towards your throat. The taste makes you shiver.

“There you go, clean me up,” he coaxes. He presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose before hovering above you. Tom’s eyes, dark and hungry, shift down to your lips, and he raises a brow. “Such a pretty mouth. Wish I had time to fuck it, too, but shit… I need to be in you, darling.”

When he pulls his fingers from your mouth, you feel empty. Your tongue is light—too light. A pout settles over your lips.

“Why are you frowning?” Tom adds as he sits back on his shins. You sit up a little straighter, strength regained as you watch him move around and shed his boxers. You almost moan as you watch his cock spring free, tall and flushed red. You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him.

“Feel empty without you,” you respond.

Tom slides over you again, and you part your legs. With ease, he slots himself between your thighs, his throbbing crown resting against your clit as your wet lips envelop the rest of his member.

“Well, you’re going to be very full soon,” he murmurs, looking up to kiss your jaw. He waits above your lips, quirking a brow. “Open, then, if you’re so needy.”

Your teeth catch your gnawed lower lip before you follow instruction, opening your mouth for him. Tom presses one of his hands against your shoulder as he leans up. He rests a thumb to your chin and looks down at you, eyes glimmering with mischievousness as he puckers his lips and hums. A moment later, Tom spits into your mouth, his dirty spittle falling onto your tongue. He groans at the sight, and you reach up to grab at his broad shoulders as the heat of the possessiveness rolls over you. Tom chases his action with a deep kiss, his fingers rolling back down to pull up your thigh and open you for him.

As he enters you, it’s a smooth movement. Everything flows together—your tongues, your bodies, your hearts. Tom’s able to guide himself inside you almost seamlessly, and you’re so aroused already that the stretch is comfortable.

“Fuck,” you gasp, falling back from his lips.

“Oh, god,” Tom groans. “That’s it. Fuck yeah.” He kisses you again as he slowly pulls out, sliding back into you with ease. His lips are hot as they rest on yours, unmoving as he gets lost in the pleasure.

“You’re so big,” you whimper, eyes rolling back as he continues to thrust into you. Tom’s building it up slowly, rutting deeply against your heat as his member explores your walls. It’s a little clumsy before he establishes a rhythm, his groove coming back after a few weeks apart, but when he gets it right, it feels otherworldly.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, dropping his face against your shoulder. You bury your hands in his hair, fingers tensing around his strands when he bites at your skin. “Love of my life,” he coos. “Love this pussy more than life itself. Love you more than anything.”

Overwhelmed, you hum, the sound twisting into a gasp as he grinds against you and the crown of his flushed length hits your sensitive spot. “God, yeah,” you agree. “Feels so good, Tom. Go deeper.”

He obliges you for a few moments before his rhythm fades, and he stills with his cock stuffed deep within you. Your fingers play with his hair as you feel him kiss your shoulder, then follow up the action with a lap of his tongue.

“I want you on top, darling,” Tom grunts, words smearing against your neck. He’s panting, hot breath making your skin wet. “Need to see my beautiful wife.” You clench around him, and you feel him chuckle into your shoulder. “C’mere,” he coaxes. “I’ll help you up.”

It’s dizzying to readjust, but as soon as you’ve taken your place in Tom’s lap, you feel better. You’re impossibly close, able to watch his face constrict with pleasure every time you lower yourself on him. He’s got his head thrown back against the headboard, half-closed eyes watching you, ringed-fingers digging into your hips.

“Tom,” you whimper. “Feels so good.” Your eyes are rolling back, your body trembling as he helps you move. With each bounce down, Tom ruts his hips up to meet you, and when you shift slightly to the side and lean forward, his tip brushes up against your spot. Arcs of electricity zing through your centre, adding layers to your enjoyment.

“The way that you look right now should be breaking the law,” he says, voice held tight. Tom grabs one of your tits in his palm, roughened thumb toying with the nipple until you squirm. “You’re stunning, angel. All mine…” he drops down to kiss at the base of your neck. “Mine forever.”

“Y-Yeah, ‘m yours,” you stammer, voice hitching as his index finger trails back down to your bud. It knocks you off balance how quickly your third high threatens to surge across you.

Tom sees it on your face, growls as he feels you clench around him. “Come on, darling. Give me another one.” His greedy fingers continue to move your hips as the others play around with your clit. The bud tingles, stimulated beyond anything you’ve felt before, but the ache makes it better. “Always the prettiest when you cum, angel. Make the prettiest sounds too. Go on, my love. Let me hear you sing for me.”

It takes a few moments for you to peak, and when you do, you go loose in Tom’s arms. It ripples over you like a blur, your limbs feeling equal parts boneless and taut. Everything fades, pulled back to the bare primal motions of orgasm, warmth spreading through your entire body until it consumes you.

No sooner have you finished your release does Tom scoop you up in his arms and press you back against the mattress. He continues to drill into you, moving roughly against you, grinding his hips into you. Both of you are sweaty, and the space between your legs is sticky from all the aroused fluids that you’ve released, but he doesn’t care. He buries himself in your heat, losing himself in the feelings as you claw at his back, unable to comprehend the pleasures of overstimulation on a scale as intense as this.

“You’re okay, yeah?” Tom says, pulling away from your neck to stare at you. You’re slack-jawed and panting, but you nod. He likes to push you, and you like being stretched to your limits, but he never does it cruelly. He’s always attentive as he picks you apart, slowly breaking you open until you’re shattered into pieces that only he can reassemble. There’s love behind everything he does with you.

“Yeah,” you manage, voice broken. Hot tears of enjoyment pool in your eyes, a muffled groan leaving you when Tom reaches for your thigh and tugs it open roughly. You curl your leg around his back, allowing him in completely, and as you gain that familiar friction back against your g-spot, you melt against the sheets.

“You know what I’m going to do, angel?” Tom grunts. He’s heavy on top of you, body a blur as he fucks you harder, faster, deeper. “I’m going to get your initials tattooed on my ring finger, so you’re there even without the ring.” He stares down at your face, love swirling in his frenzied eyes. “I’m going to—fuck, I’m gonna fuck you so good for the rest of your life, darling. I promise you that. Yeah.” He nuzzles at your cheek, hot breath panting across your skin as he drops his voice to a gritty whisper. “I’m gonna love you, cherish you, fucking adore you… Gonna put a baby in you.”

“Holy shit,” you mutter.

Tom slows his thrusts, his hips stammering in a way suggestive of the way he’s near a peak and wants to put it off. With an intensity that you’ve never seen before, he reaches down, balancing on his strong arms until he’s able to rest his hot palm against your lower stomach. He presses against your skin as he thrusts into you a few more times, slowing but burying himself deeper.

“Can you feel me?” he says. “I’m in so deep, darling. I can feel everything. Such a wet pussy. So greedy.”

“Yeah,” you whimper. “You’re so big, T. I can’t think about anything else.”

“Mmm, good, ‘cos you’re the only thing I’m thinking about right now.” He dances his fingers across the soft skin of your stomach, contrasting the gentleness as he drops his head to the crook of your neck and nips at your skin. “Can’t wait to fill you up,” he admits roughly. “Thought about it every night I was away.”

“Yeah?” You brush your hands through his sweaty hair, tugging as he drives a little deeper.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Go on, touch your clit.” Tom waits until you’ve done as instructed to continue with his musings. “Thought about how you’ll look, belly all swollen with my cum. I love those pretty whimpers you make when I pull out, and my seed pours down your thighs. Can’t wait to fuck it back into you until you’re crying.”

“—oh god,” you whine.

“Mm, yeah. I felt you clench then, darling. I know how much you like the idea of taking fuckin’ everything I give you.” Tom presses firmer against your lower stomach, accompanying the action with a particularly hard rut. “You’re gonna feel me here, lovie, right in your womb. Gonna stuff you to the fucking brim until there’s no chance you aren’t pregnant. Gonna fill you with my babies, give us the heirs we both deserve.”

“Please,” you beg, voice broken. It’s overwhelming in the best way, your bud rebelling as you toy with it. But you’re persistent, matching the deep rolls of Tom’s hips as you feel another climax stir in the pit of your stomach. Everything feels so fluid and wet that it’s hard to tell where you stop, and Tom begins. He’s tangled up so completely in you that he has become part of your existence. “Please, Tom, I want it.”

“What do you want?” Tom teases. He’s a devil, looks up to smirk at you. You can feel how badly he wants to snap into release just from the way he’s controlling his thrusts, but he isn’t going to cave until he gets exactly what he wants. “Use your words, gorgeous girl. I know you can do it.”

He’s in so close, lips on your cheeks, chin, nose, and lips. His heat envelopes you, clouding your brain. With each nudge of his tip deeper against your walls, you get closer to losing it, clinging to the firm muscles of his back like it’s your only lifeline.

“Give me it all,” you choke out. “I want it, Tom, deep in me. Want you to fill me up with your cum.” His curls are sweaty as you reach up to fist your trembling hands in them, entirely at his mercy. “Wanna feel you lose yourself in me.”

“Mmm, okay, baby,” he groans. His voice is broken, thick and tired from exertion. He kisses you roughly, all tongue and teeth, the noisy meshing sounds of your lips mingling with the chaos of his hips slapping down against yours. “Oh fuck,” he pulls away to say. “Oh fuck. Oh—”

With a heavy grunt, Tom finally spills. He releases a loud groan, hips snapping forwards with an animalistic force as he drives his cock deeper, shaft pulsing as your walls squeeze around him. You cry out, cumming for the fourth time. Your climax feels like the main attraction, as if every other orgasm has merely been part of the buildup. You push up against him, breasts pressing into Tom’s chest as your eyes screw shut, tears cascading down your cheeks as pleasure burns through you. His name pours past your lips like a prayer until it’s all that you know, all that you care to know.

It ends, and you’re trembling. Intense aftershocks rock through you, and you feel Tom kiss all over your cheeks as he coos soft words of endearment into your ear. His lips become wet, and you realise that blissful tears have skated down your face.

“Lovely girl... Best girl…” He’s gentle, tender. You jump, opening your eyes suddenly as Tom slips from you, causing your aching walls to spasm. He looks up at you, lifting a questioning brow as he reaches down towards your clit. “Finished?” he asks. When his fingertips lightly make contact with your bud, you wince. Everywhere aches, and it’s nice, but it’s enough.

“Definitely finished,” you choke out.

“Okay, okay… sorry, love.” Tom gently pulls back, flashing you an apologetic smile as he kisses your inner thigh. He shuffles around, eyeing the sight of his cum leaking from your hole, and you watch him shudder. “Fuck….” You can feel it slowly dripping from your entrance and clench your walls just to see his reaction. Tom groans, chewing his lips and continuing to stare until you shiver. He smoothes a hand over your thigh. “Sweet thing,” he whispers. “I’ll bring you some water.”

It only feels like he’s gone for a second, and you realise you’re drifting, ecstatic and loose-limbed. Tom is suddenly behind you, delicately hauling you into his arms. He sits against the headboard and pulls you into a tight hug from behind, kissing over your shoulders as you whimper softly. You can feel the soft fabric of his sweats as he settles you in his lap.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs. He presses a glass of water into your hand and helps you take a sip. As the cool liquid soothes your throat, you relax into his hold. “Love you, love you… Love you so much.”

He’s so warm against you, holding you tight. Your eyes still feel wet.

“Love you too,” you say. Tom takes the glass from your hand and puts it down on the bedside table, and you turn in his arms to kiss him. Your lips feel puffy and sore, but the ache is worth the relief of feeling your fiancé’s mouth gently press to yours. You sigh as the tension leaves your shoulders, draining away as he loves you, and holds you.

“Am gonna clean you up, now,” Tom mumbles, voice soft. You look at him, curious until you feel a warm cloth pressing against your thighs. You part your legs, turning back in his arms and snuggling further into his grasp as he delicately runs the material over your centre. “Sorry, darling,” he says as you wince. He’s so gentle, but it still aches in a way that hurts.

“What time is it?” you ask, mind running slow.

Tom throws the cloth aside, then reaches out and grabs one of the thick furs that sits on top of your bed. “3pm.”

Your eyes widen. “What?” you murmur, brows creasing. “What time did we wake up?”

“Around midday.”

“Wow.” You smile softly as Tom tucks you both in, covering your shivering form with the blanket. You reach up, leaving your left arm above the fur and reaching out to take Tom’s hand. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

He laughs and tangles your hands together. Tom’s palm is warm against yours, and his other hand curves around to fiddle with your new ring.

“Indeed it does, darling,” he coos. “I had a lot of fun. Did you?”

“Always.”

You watch him play with your ring for a while, his lips moving over your sweaty neck. You’re still hot and exhausted, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He holds you tight all the same, not caring that you’re messy and still quivering from the aftershocks. Soft sentences of adoration pour from his lips as he holds you.

“After this,” Tom says, voice slow, “I thought we could have a nice bath… maybe drink some champagne, have some dinner… then I want to hear everything you’ve been up to for the last month, and maybe we can celebrate some more.”

You nod softly. Turning in his arms, you sit up to face him properly, dragging the large blanket with you and draping it over you both as you straddle his lap and rest your arms over his shoulders. The bruising is still on Tom’s face, but he looks more handsome than you’ve ever seen him before. There’s a golden glow to his face, a certain lightness that you’ve never seen before. You reach down and take his hand, bringing it to your lips and ghosting your mouth over his ring.

“I love you so much,” you say, looking up at him from behind his hand. His smile is like the sunrise. “Thank you for everything you do for me.”

“Oh, darling.” Tom pauses to kiss you, smiling against your lips. “Don’t you know the pleasure is all mine?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

will i burn for this ? perhaps. but it’s worth it. thank u to my lord and saviour mr mob!tsh... i love u.

lmk what you think......? +++ if you want to see any more specific scenes from my mob!tom x reader universe?? any other milestones you’d like to see? lmk! <3

mlist + taglist are through the link in my bio <3

thank you for reading!! <3<3

#tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #mob!tom smut #mob!tom #mob!tom holland smut #mob!tomfic #smut

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sillyrabbit81 · 3 years ago

Note

Hi there 👋🏼 Been reading your stories these past few days and absolutely love them. Can I suggest a Sy fic where his army buddies take him to visit a strip club? He’s having a good time when he sees his ex working on stage. Maybe he requests his private show?

Summary: Sy visits a strip club and when he sees his ex on stage, neither of them are prepared for what happens next.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Chloe (OFC)

Word Count: approx. 7.5k

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex.

Authors note: Thanks anon for the prompt. This is probably not how you thought this story would go. It’s not how I thought it would go either but I have been in a mood. I still don’t know how it happened or even how I feel about this one. Thanks to @amberangel112 for beta reading.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Familiar

Despite the alcohol, his buddies, the naked women, and the party atmosphere, Sy was starting to get bored. They’d been at the strip club for three hours, and while started out fun, now he was thinking about going home. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it. Hell, who doesn’t like watching pretty, young things dance around on stage with their perky tits, pretty pussies, long legs, firm asses, and nice hair? And those shoes… God damn, he loved stripper heels.

It just got too repetitive, pretty girl after pretty girl blurred into one, and the alcohol was too God damn expensive. Besides, looking was fun, but in the end, it was a tease. None of those girls were going home with him tonight, there was no chance. At least at a bar there was a chance he’d take a girl home. Hell, in a bar, at least you could talk to the girls. The girls here would talk he supposed, but you’d have to pay them, and he wasn’t going to do that. He didn’t blame the girls, it was their job, why should they talk to his drunk ass for free?

Still, he was over it. He had to suck it up though. It was an army buddy’s buck’s night, a friend he’d made on his last deployment, and tradition demanded you get wasted and look at naked girls. Sy wasn’t about to let the boys down.

“I’m goin’ to the bathroom,” Sy told the guys. He had to repeat himself a few times. God damn the music was loud. Getting up from his seat next in front row, he headed towards the back of the large room. They’d had a bit of attention tonight, most of the girls had worked their group. The guys were mostly single men like himself and had plenty of cash to burn on nights like this. Sy wasn’t immune, he’d probably spent more than he would have liked to. He shook his head, thinking of the bike parts he could have bought with the money. Resolving to stop throwing cash at the girls, he thought maybe he could finally get that old panhead working again if he stopped now.

Although filthy, the bathroom was blessedly quiet. He didn’t mind the music really, even though most of it wasn’t his taste. He cracked his neck while he pissed, maybe he was just getting too old for this shit. They had been golfing yesterday and earlier they went to a casino. He hadn’t drunk that much in a long while. He put himself away and cracked his back. Those chairs, while comfortable, weren’t doing his back the world of good, he was slouching too much.

Maybe he should just go home. Go home to what though? An empty house? Aika wasn’t even there. She was staying at his sister’s place for a few days, and he was supposed to pick her up tomorrow. Besides, he and the guys had hotel rooms not far from here, how was he even going to get home at this time of night? He’d stick it out, he knew he would, but it didn’t stop him from complaining about it.

Going back to his chair, Sy saw the boys were getting a show from a redhead and he stopped dead in his tracks. Fuck, she looked just like Chloe. She had the same exact shade of dark auburn hair, which the lights picked up and made it look like her hair was in flames. Her body was similar too. Maybe a little slimmer than Chloe’s, but she had that hourglass shape that always made him weak.

Sy walked closer, slowly, as if seeing a ghost. It couldn’t be, there was no way. Her hair covered her face like curtains as she was on her knees, but even her tits seemed like Chloe’s. Nah, he was seeing things. He had thought about going home and being alone so of course he’d start thinking of his ex-girlfriend.

Taking a seat in his chair, the girl rolled onto her back and put her legs straight up in the air, right in front of Sy. He knew this move, he’d seen it all evening. She pulled her tiny string of a thong up her legs then split them, opening herself wide and giving them all an eyeful. Sy had seen a lot of cunts and spent a lot of time getting to know them well. So well in fact, that he could recognise them as easily as a face. And this one, the one right in front of him, he had seen a hundred times and it was just as pretty as he remembered it.

Feeling the blood drain from his face, he looked up, straight into the emerald, green eyes of his ex-girlfriend. Chloe seemed to recognise him in same instant and they were both frozen in shock for a few beats. Sy’s heart started racing, a flood of emotions hit him like a bullet through his chest. He remembered the hurt and pain, the nights spent drinking whole bottles of Jack just to get a few hours of sleep. And worse than that, he remembered how much he loved her, how he had planned their whole lives out together. He was going to marry her, make babies with her, grow old with her, until it all fell apart and she had left him. Fuck, he missed her.

They both recovered at the same time. Sy went to stand up and Chole closed her legs and her black platform heel connected to the side of Sy’s head so hard he saw stars.

“Fuck!” they both said. And then chaos. The security guys misinterpreted what happened and came instantly to Chloe’s defence. They assumed she was reacting to him touching her or something else inappropriate and rushed to escort Sy out. The rest of Sy’s party knew he hadn’t done anything and blocked the security from getting to him and for a few moments it looked like both sides were going to throw down.

Chloe jumped off the stage and pushed her naked body through the guys. She yelled out to be heard over the thumping music, “It was my fault! It was an accident. He didn’t do anything! It was my bad.”

Clutching his head, Sy felt a sticky, warm liquid and swore as he pulled his hand away, the tips of his fingers were covered in blood. He gingerly touched his face until he found the split on his eyelid just above his brow. That was going to bleed like a mother fucker. Looking down, he already saw spots of blood on his light blue button up. He started to undo his shirt and watched as Chloe talked to the security and some other guy, Sy figured he was the owner or manager.

The guys had backed off, which was good, last thing any of them needed was to report to base next week having to explain their arrests over the weekend. He wasn’t so much worried about the army guys starting shit, it was the other dudes, the ones who didn’t serve he was concerned about. Some assholes who knew they had guys around who could fight would become complete dicks knowing they had the back up of a few well trained soldiers. Sy avoided guys like that like the plague, and some of the men were family members or old school friends of his buddy, he didn’t know if they were that type.

Sy wrapped his shirt up and pressed it to his wound. It seemed Chloe had calmed things down. The guys were all taking their seats and Chloe motioned for him to move away from the group.

Chloe, the god damn firecracker that she was, didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable with her nudity until she felt his gaze on her. Sy could see the shift in her body language, her shoulders rose and hunched and she crossed her arms in front of her breasts, trying not to make it look like she was hiding. How strange that she appeared to happily walk around naked, dance naked, displaying herself for all to see, but she hid from him. Sy wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“You alright?” Chloe asked. No hello? No how are you? No I’m sorry? Nothing. Sy raised his eyebrows, immediately regretting it and he hissed. “Let me look at it.” Sy pulled his head away as Chloe reached up to remove the shirt. Her movements had exposed her breasts again and Sy got distracted, remembering how they felt in his hands, how she would giggle when he would bury his face between them. She had such a nice laugh, warm and contagious, Sy always ended up laughing with her.

Chloe’s hands touched his and Sy flinched away. “I’m fine.”

“Are you really fine or just being a big baby?” Chloe’s bright eyes caught the light and Sy saw her amused smirk. Even when she was being a bitch, she was beautiful.

“I’m fine,” Sy said, allowing his voice to get a little rough with feigned annoyance. He didn’t want her to know how much seeing her again affected him. Especially when she was fucking naked except for those God damn heels. What he would have given to see her like that in his bed eighteen months ago.

“Come on Sy, let me look. There’s a lot of blood.” Her tone was gentler, and she seemed genuinely concerned. This time when she reached for the shirt, Sy lowered it and let her see. She brought her face close to his, with those platform heels on she wasn’t much shorter than him. Sy could smell her perfume, the same one she used to wear, that sweet girly fragrance used to drive him crazy. Just the smell of her made his body reacted like it used to, and despite the pain in his head, he felt his cock stir as his blood rushed between his legs.

They were close enough to kiss, and for a split second Sy thought she was going to. Chloe cupped his cheeks and turned his head side to side to look at it. Her touch was electric, he felt it flow through him, igniting him and he barely suppressed a shiver. “Am I gonna live Doc?” Sy joked.

Chloe grinned and shook her head. “You haven’t changed, have you?” It was more a statement than a question. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, just a few steri-strips will do.” She let him go and took a step back. She did that thing she did when she was thinking where she pursed her lips like she was going to blow a kiss. She seemed to come to a decision and said, “We have some out the back in a first aid kit. I’ll fix you up if you want me to.” For the first time, it seemed like she realised he was partially naked himself and Sy couldn’t hold back a smile as her eyes ran over him. “I’ll get you a shirt too.”

Sy followed Chloe through a door near the stage. Sy was near hypnotised watching her ass as he followed. She had definitely lost weight, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. She looked good, but she looked good before. Sy knew he’d probably find her attractive at any size, she had an aura about her, something that drew him in. Even after all the shit that happened between them, he still felt it. Perhaps he had never stopped.

Caught in his own thoughts, Sy didn’t bother to ask Chloe where she was taking him. He just followed as she opened the door with a pin code. They went into a small room with three similarly locked doors, and she put a pin in again and lead him down a black painted hallway, even the floors were black and into a room, also painted black with no door. The neon lights were purples, reds, and blues and from the armless chair in the centre of the room and the leather sofa pushed against a wall, he realised she had taken him to the private dance rooms.

“Wait here, I’ll bring the first aid kit here. I can’t take you out the back, only the boss and security are allowed in there with the girls.” She pulled a thick black curtain across the doorway and then she was gone.

Sy stared at the chair, all leather, and metal, he assumed it was sturdy considering the bouncing that usually went on in these room. He wondered what else went on in these rooms. He knew for a fact that Chris Rock was wrong when he said there was no sex in the champagne room, he’d been offered it a few times over the years. Surely Chloe wouldn’t… But then again, he never thought she’d strip either. She didn’t even wore a bikini when swimming, always a one piece, sometimes even a rash vest to protect her pale skin from the sun.

Feeling a little lightheaded, Sy sat on the chair, his thoughts were spinning like a maelstrom. What the fuck was Chloe doing stripping? Did she need money that bad? She had a job before, a good job. Did she get fired? He wondered how long she had been doing it for. He thought back to when they were together and realised with relief there was no way she had been stripping back then, she had rarely gone out at night, there was no way. She must have started after they broke up.

Hearing a noise in the hall, Sy looked up to see Chloe come back in with her arms full of supplies. He gave a sigh when he saw that she was wearing a dusty pink silk robe. It was very short, barely covering her ass, but it covered enough that Sy would be able to think. She still had those damn shoes on though.

Chloe walked straight past him to the back of the room and dragged a chair across the floor one handed, scraping the timber.

“I’ll get that, Chloe,” Sy said getting up.

“No, you sit.” Chloe brought the chair to a stop in front of him and put on the seat a large first aid kit, a t-shirt and a couple of bottles of water. She cracked one open and gave it to him. “Here, drink this. No more alcohol tonight alright? Your headache’s going to be bad enough as it is, let’s not add dehydrated on top of that.”

Sy didn’t argue and took a large drink, taking in at least half of the water. The bottle shrunk in on itself, making a loud crackling noise as it popped back into shape when he had finished. He had needed that, already feeling a bit better as the water settled into his belly.

“This is a private room ain’t it?” Sy asked, trying to sound nonchalant, as if he were just making conversation instead of trying to find out exactly what Chloe did here.

Chloe was bent over the plastic box, opening packets and she glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, Sy. I’m not an idiot. Don’t act like you’ve never been in one before.” Although her words were harsh, her tone was playful, and one side of her mouth was curved into a smile.

He didn’t deny it and gave her back a small smile. “Why’s there more than one chair?”

“We do couples sometimes.” Chloe pulled on a pair of cream-coloured latex gloves and shrugged. “Some people like seeing their partner get a lap dance.” Grinning she added, “If the girl is really into it, it can be a lot of fun actually.”

“You like givin’ girls lap dances?” Sy smirked, thinking maybe he would pay money to watch Chloe grinding and bouncing on a girl. But his smile quickly faded when he realised for every girl she probably danced for, there would be twenty gross, sweaty, horny, old men who she’d do the same for.

“Most of the time I do.” Sy didn’t want to hear anymore. He started to feel a little cold, almost like he was going to be sick. He hoped he didn’t have a concussion, that was all he needed, to end up in an emergency room for hours, just for a doctor to look at him for five seconds and tell him to take some painkillers and go to bed.

Feeling Chloe’s fingers on his hand, Sy looked up at her as she pulled the shirt away from his head. She clicked her tongue, sounding annoyed and walked over to the wall near the curtain. “It’s going to be bright,” she warned and turned the lights on.

The magic spell of the dark intimate space was immediately broken when he saw how shoddy the paint work was, how cheap the mouldings on the wall were and saw a box in the corner, with tissues, paper towel and a spray bottle. Sy closed his eyes, trying to hold back the bile that lurked in the back of his throat. He gritted his teeth, breathing deeply through his nose, trying to control his surging anger. He didn’t know what he was angry at or who, it was Chloe’s business what she did, but he couldn’t suppress the growing jealousy he felt.

Chloe worked quickly and in silence for a while, washing the cut with saline and cleaning off as much blood as possible. While waiting for the area to dry, Chloe tried to talk to Sy.

“Those guys you were with. I don’t remember meeting any of them before.”

“Yeah. Met ‘em on my last tour.”

“How was it?” Chloe asked in a small voice.

Sy sniffed and shifted in the chair. “Fine.” Sy didn’t elaborate and Chloe didn’t ask him to. She had always been good like that.

Chloe sighed and went back to her kit and started applying the strips. Sy could hardly keep still, his leg started to bounce in irritation. The longer he sat in that ugly, gaudy room, the angrier he felt.

Unable to hold himself back anymore, Sy burst out, “Why the fuck are you strippin’, Chloe?”

Chloe flinched. Sy saw sadness cross her face for an instant before she quickly hid it beneath a mask of indifference. “Why not? It’s good money.”

“Why not? Because I know you, Chloe. This ain’t you.” Sy shook his head, disbelieving her obvious deflection. “Remember that time Pepp’s was over, and you left the bathroom wearin’ nothin’ but a towel and almost ran into him? You were redder than a tomato with a sunburn and didn’t come out of the bedroom until morning. That was eighteen months ago, Chloe. You couldn’t have changed that much.”

“Leave it alone, Sy.” Chloe tore her gloves off and started packing up, her actions were sharp and jerky. There was something she wasn’t telling him. Sy folded his arms and watched as she tidied, trying to make up his mind if he should press the issue.

Sy heard her sniffle and saw her chin wrinkle up like it did when she was about to cry. “Oh, Hell, Firefly. Come ‘ere, baby.” Sy reached out and tugged on the robe, bringing her onto his lap, and wrapping his arms tight around her. She fought him at first, Sy grinned, she always did when she was like this, trying to hold it in and be strong, when what she really needed to do was let it out. Sy didn’t let her go as she squirmed and then he felt her body loosen and she leaned into him. She didn’t cry, she just rested her head against his shoulder, taking long shuddering breaths.

Sy rubbed Chloe’s back just like he used to, the heel of his palm making large circles over her back. He’d done it unconsciously, easily falling back into the familiarities of their relationship. Had he even used her pet name? He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he had.

“You ok?” Sy asked.

“Yeah,” Chloe said, sedately. She lifted her head from his shoulder and sat up but didn’t get off him. She toyed with hem of her robe, the almost childlike action tore at Sy. There must still be something between them if she’s allowing herself to appear so vulnerable to him. Even when they were together, Chloe held herself tight, not wanting to appear weak or in need of help for even opening a jar. It had taken a long time for Sy to break down those walls.

“What’s goin’ on? Did you lose your job?”

“No.” Chloe shook her head and looked up at the ceiling, like she was saying a prayer, asking for strength. Then her demeanour changed and Sy knew she had shut the door to her heart. She tried stand up, but Sy held her. “Let me go, Sy.”

“Nope. Not happenin’ ‘til you tell me why you’re workin’ here.” Chloe looked at him with fury in her eyes, her anger bubbled to the surface. Sy thought of those nights late in their relationship when she looked at him like that a lot. Sy would fire back with his own venomous look and then the argument would start, words spoken out loud that they didn’t mean but could never take back. Sometimes it ended up with the two of them in bed, but by the end, even the best sex either of them had ever had wasn’t enough to save them.

Sy didn’t respond like he would have before. One of them had to bend, or else they would just argue like before and Sy didn’t want that.

“Don’t do that, Chloe,” Sy said keeping his voice low. “Tell me.”

Chloe caved quicker than Sy had expected, she must be at her wit’s end to give in so fast. She told him the story of how a few months after they broke up, she started dating a guy who had not only stolen her savings but had taken a loan out in her name. She had filed a police report, but she had been ordered to pay it back because the money went into a joint account, she didn’t even know they had one, and there was no way to prove she didn’t spend the money.

“Mother fucker,” Sy said under his breath. Now he was angry.

“Yeah, so I’ve been here the last three months or so, three nights a week. I’ve almost paid back the loan. Then I’m planning on stopping.”

“Why didn’t you come to me, Chloe?” Sy asked although he knew the answer, stubborn bitch that she was. “I could have helped you.”

“We weren’t together,” Chloe said. “You didn’t need to help me.”

“I would have though.”

Chloe shook her head. “Doesn’t matter now. I only have a few more grand to pay.” She smiled at Sy, “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Once I got over my fear anyway and most of the time its fine. And the girls are really nice. It’s a good place to work.”

Sy wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. “That’s good, Chloe.” Sy lifted his hand to her cheek, letting the back of his fingers feel its curve before placing his palm on her, and his fingers played with the shell of her ear. She was wearing too much make-up, Sy wanted to see her, not the illusion she was presenting. But even painted up for the stage lights, Sy felt a longing for her.

“I miss you,” Sy murmured, bringing Chloe’s face to his. He licked his lips, he wanted to kiss her so bad. She was a great kisser, lips always so smooth and when she bit his lower lip, it would send his balls trembling. She was thinking about it, Sy could tell, her eyes were on his mouth, but she didn’t move.

“Maybe I kicked your head harder than I thought,” Chloe said, but Sy could hear the huskiness of her voice.

“Maybe it knocked some sense into me.” Sy inched his way closer.

“If only I had known that eighteen months ago. I would have taken up Jiu Jitsu.”

Sy chuckled. “Such a brat,” Sy said falling into another familiar response. He nearly held his breath wondering if she would follow with her usual response.

“You love it,” Chloe intoned.

“No. You love me.” Sy was on edge, could barely sit still. His hand on Chloe’s hip gripped her tight. He tried to keep the one on her cheek soft, but he couldn’t and he found himself scratching at her ear. He leaned his forehead on hers, noses brushing against each other.

“And you love me,” Chloe finished the exchange.

Sy nudged Chloe’s nose with his, his heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his fingers. She bumped his nose with hers, then she closed her eyes. Sy kissed her, lips firm, he couldn’t be gentle even if he wanted to, he was too keyed up now. Chloe kissed him back with a fierceness that Sy didn’t expect but had hoped for and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her tongue darted out, licking at his lips. Sy growled and pulled her closer feeling a surge of possessiveness. Now that he had kissed her, he wasn’t going to let her go again.

“Fuck, Chloe, I miss you,” Sy repeated when they broke their kiss.

“I miss you too,” Chloe said, sounding as breathless as Sy felt. “I don’t even remember why I left. I feel like such an idiot. I don’t know why I couldn’t see how good it was, why I…”

“Hush,” Sy said, gently. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve got you now.” Catching Chloe’s eyes he smiled at her. “I’ve got you, don’t I, Darlin’?”

Pursing her lips, Chloe looked at Sy, her eyes interrogating him, looking for something. Sy thought she must be able to see that he is sincere, he never stopped caring about her, never stopped thinking about her. He hated how much he thought of her and tried to be with other women, had fucked a number of women to get her out of his head. But try as he might, late at night when he struggled to sleep, or when he felt the urge to jerk off, didn’t matter what he did, his thoughts always found their way back to her.

“Don’t over think it, Darlin’,” Sy urged. Although his voice and words sounded sure, he was worried she’d say no. “You miss me, I miss you, we will make it work. Just say yes, baby. Take me home and we’ll work the rest out later.”

“I have to get back to work, Sy.” Chloe didn’t make a move to get up though, Sy thought she was waiting for a reason to stay. He probably should have tried another tac tic, a kinder way to coax her back to him, but that wasn’t his way. He was straightforward, always was, and he couldn’t hold his tongue with the thought of any more men seeing what was his.

“Nah, Fuck that. You ain’t doin’ this no more.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he had made a tactical error.

Chloe’s eyes flashed with anger. “Fuck you! Don’t you dare make me feel bad about stripping, Sy.” She tried to get up again, and again Sy trapped her in his arms. Fuck. He was getting harder than steel overpowering her, feeling her squirm on him. She used to do it deliberately sometimes, teasing, or annoying Sy, playfighting with him, just so he could manhandle her. Sy wondering how much of her fighting him right now was real or if she was testing the waters, seeing if she still liked it.

“Listen woman, before ya fly off the handle,” Sy grunted, finally pinning Chloe’s arms behind her back and holding her wrists in his hand. “I don’t care that you were dancin’. You did what you had to do. Lord knows I’ve done some shit I didn’t want to survive. But this ain’t your only option. It’s not like you wanna it. It’s only so you can pay the loan, right?” Sy paused, and a little subdued, she nodded. “You said yourself its almost paid. So, I’ll pay the rest.”

“It’s not your problem, Sy.”

“Maybe not. But I ain’t fixin’ on sittin’ back and lettin’ you do somethin’ I know you don’t wanna do.”

“So, it’s either get back with you or keep dancing for another couple of months,” Chloe venomously. “Blackmail huh Sy? Real fucking smooth.”

Sy tongued his teeth, trying hard not to lose his temper. Did she really think that was what he was saying? Or was she baiting him into an argument, testing him to see if anything had changed?

Grinning, Sy covered Chloe’s mouth with his hand. He wasn’t going to take her shit, but he wasn’t going to fight her either, he’d handle her the best way he knew. “I said listen, women.” Her eyes went wide, but Sy could feel the subtle roll of her hips. Yeah, Sy thought, she still likes a bit of the rough stuff. Sy was hot all over, barely able to stop himself from grinding against her. “I’ll give ya the money whether we get back together or not. You can pay me back if it makes you feel better, but you won’t have to pay interest anymore, that’ll save you a lot. You know I can take care of you, ya just gotta let me.” Sy leaned in and kissed her neck. He felt her moan against his hand and her hips weren’t subtle anymore as she clenched her thighs and wriggled. Fuck, she was making him loose his mind, he wanted her much. “You know I can take care of ya real nice, baby,” Sy whispered in her ear, he made his voice throaty, rumbling and exaggerated his accent. She melted, Sy could see it, the tension left her body and he fell loosely against him.

Dropping his hand from Chloe’s mouth, he tenderly held her throat and made her look at him. She looked lethargic, her eyes hooded, her mouth parted slightly, he had no doubt she was wet. The thought made him tighten his jaw and his nostrils flared. Sy licked his lips, his mouth watered at the sight of her, she was so beautiful, so seductive, so fucking feisty.

“You gonna tell your boss you’re quittin’?” Chloe nodded. “Good. Then you’re gonna take me home and let’s see if I remember how fuckin’ good you taste.”

Chloe’s eyes slid closed, and she moaned softly. Sy’s balls rose in his sack, he tensed all over, anxious, and fucking needy. He’d never admit it, maybe not even to Chloe, but he had shed tears over her. He had sobbed like a fucking baby when it finally sunk in that she wasn’t going to come back. It was fear that stopped him from going to her and trying to patch things up. It had been over a month and Sy didn’t know how he’d react if she was with someone else. He’d assumed she’d come back like she had every other time. He wouldn’t make that mistake again, his pride be damned, he’d go after her on his fucking knees if he had to. He’d beg right now if he thought it would do any good.

“Yes, Sy,” Chloe said finally.

Sy growled, he felt like something had snapped in him as he smashed his lips against Chloe’s. There was nothing sensual about his kiss as he let her wrists go and he held the back of her head. He forced his tongue into her mouth, she opened wider for him, her own tongue lapped at his. The kiss was all primal need, the need to feel her, be inside her, be assured she was his again.

It was like a flood gate had opened, all the emotions he had held in check since that night he broke down and spilled from him. He felt so much, his unleashed desires consumed him and he knew that he’d never be able to hide those feelings away again.

Sy waited around the back in the parking lot for Chloe to get her stuff together and pulled at the collar of the shirt Chloe had given him to wear. It was a security shirt, a size too small, but she said it was all they had. He’d offered to help pack her belongings, but she said he couldn’t. He’d gone and told his buddy he was leaving. He had given Sy shit, assuming he was going home with Chloe and though correct, he had set him straight with a look that said he’d better watch his fucking tone when talking about her.

When she came out, she was escorted by a security guard who helped carry her things. She had washed her make-up off, put her hair up in a ponytail and was wearing her regular clothes, tight jeans and sneakers with a familiar hoodie that made him grin. She looked beautiful. She looked like his Chloe, and he liked her like this much more than the girl he saw inside. Although, he did hope she kept those shoes.

It wasn’t without great difficulty that Sy kept his hands to himself as they drove. They talked, though Chloe wasn’t quite her bubbly self. She was a little in her head, but Sy was confident he’d fix that. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her, turning in his seat so he was facing her instead of the road, he figured if he couldn’t touch her, then he would do the next best thing. He made her laugh a couple of times, and he liked that. He told her about Aika, and Chloe was excited to meet her. She loved dogs, Sy had been planning on buying her a puppy to keep her company before he went on his last tour.

When they arrived at her apartment, Sy helped Chloe take her stuff inside. Her apartment was small and a mess. Sy forgot how unorganised she was. The army had forced that out of him years ago and he had tried to help her, but it was just one of those things that seemed so ingrained in her, no one could change. It wasn’t dirty, the floors were clean, and dishes were done, it was just that she would make little nests of things, like her hand cream on the coffee table, next to a pile of clean, folded washing, a book, and a ball of wool.

“I would have tidied up if I knew you were coming,” Chloe said. She sounded embarrassed, like he would be disappointed in her.

Sy shook his head. “I don’t care about that, Firefly,” he said following her into her bedroom.

“You used to,” Chloe pointed out as she took the bag Sy was holding out of his hands and put it in her closet.

Sy pulled at his collar again as he leaned against her door frame. Chloe’s bed was unmade, but surprisingly the rest of her bedroom was neat. “To tell you the truth, I kinda missed the mess.” Chloe stuck her head out of the closet to look at him, her eyes were wide in surprise. Sy chuckled, “Yeah, well, it meant you weren’t around no more. I figure what I really missed was you.” Chloe looked away, she seemed nervous.

Sy went to her and put her arms around his waist. She let him but she didn’t look at him. Sy lifted her chin to his face and kissed her. He kept his touch light, waiting to see how she would respond. She kissed him back, but without the passion from before.

“I know what I said at the club, but we don’t gotta do anythin’ you don’t wanna do,” Sy assured Chloe as his fingertips traced her jaw. “We can take it slow if ya want to. Ease back into it if that’s what you need.”

Chloe shook her head. “No, Sy. I…” She didn’t finish her thought, her arms moved around his neck, and she pulled him down to her kissing him hard. Sy groaned and kissed her back, feeling a white hot thrill course through his veins. Her mouth was hot, eager, and her tongue frantic as she sought his. Her kiss told him that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her, so Sy let himself go. To hell with taking it slow, he’d waited long enough. He was hungry, starving, famished, unable to be satisfied by anyone but her. His hand went to her ass, bringing their bodies close and he squeezed her firm flesh in his hands. Digging his fingers into Chloe’s ass, Sy lifted her, and without breaking the kiss, he wrapped her legs around his waist and took her to her bed, holding her tight as he crawled up the middle and laid her head on the pillows.

“Take your clothes off,” Sy rasped, already pulling at the buttons of his jeans. Chloe tore at her clothes, her fervour heightening his already overwhelming lust. Sy was undressed before she was and impatiently helped her, pulling her jeans off her ankles, and whipping her underwear off.

Sy stared at Chloe, and though he had seen her naked only an hour ago, it felt different. This time it was just for him, because she wanted him. His chest puffed and his throat rumbled with each ragged breath. She was beautiful, with her face softly blushing, her lips parted, and her belly quivering as she made short panting breaths. Her legs were slightly apart and before he even registered what he was doing, he gripped her inner thighs, opening her up. He licked his lips as she was revealed to him, he could feel her trembling beneath his hands.

“Sy,” Chloe whimpered, lifting herself onto her elbows.

“Yeah, baby?” Sy didn’t wait for a reply and lowered his head, catching her eye as he went. Her familiar scent tickled at his nose, his nostrils flared, and his mouth started to water as his appetite for her became overwhelming. Normally he would tease her, build her up, lick, kiss and suck all over her before diving into her, but not this time. He held her gaze as his tongue slid over her slick, soft, warm skin and dipped into her core.

“Oh fuck,” Chloe cried, and she fell onto the mattress.

Sy closed his eyes, as her sweet arousal hit his taste buds. He made a guttural noise, a sound birthed from that primitive part of his brain, unleashing his primal urges. She was so wet, so ready for him, more proof of how much she craved him. His mouth closed over her, his tongue broad and flat lapped, at her clit. He got lost in the moment, driven only by the desire to watch her shatter, his masculinity demanding he see his woman flush with satisfaction.

Chloe’s moans were desperate, short and breathy little whimpers, so subtle and subdued, but they roared in his ears and each one spurred him on. As she got closer to her peak, they grew louder, and her hands reached down to him. He caught one of her hands in his and his heart skipped as she laced her fingers between his and they clamped tight. Her other went to his head, her nails scratched at him as she started grinding herself against his mouth.

Drunk with lust, heady with power, and encouraged by Chloe, Sy doubled his efforts. She was close, teetering on the edge, needing a final push to fall over the edge. Sy remembered what she needed, and his balls ached with anticipation. With a brutishness that he knew Chloe loved, he thrust two of his thick fingers into her soaked core. Her tight walls clenching, already on the verge of release, grew tighter at his invasion. She was so wet, so drenched, he slid in easily and muscle memory took over, sending the pads of his fingers straight her spot. He hummed against her while he pumped vigorously.

Sy’s hum became a growl as her hand left his head and slid over his shoulder and down his arm. She squeezed his flexing muscles, grabbing and pawing at him as he pounded her. Fuck he loved when she did that. That she liked the way he looked, liked the way he felt, made his already rock-hard cock throb maddeningly.

“Oh fuck, Sy,” Chloe cried. Her whole body tensed, Sy felt her pulse around his fingers and against his mouth. Sy watched her face, enthralled as she climaxed, her eyes shut tight, but mouth open in a wordless shout. Sy felt a warm satisfaction, a smug feeling of triumph. In that moment, she was all his, he owned her, conquered her, she belonged to him completely. Too soon for Sy, it was over, and he could see the tension leave her features, and a small blissful smile curled her lips.

For a time, he let her bask in her high. Sy knew she would open her eyes soon and he held himself against her, gingerly touching the base of his cock. He was so close to blowing himself, he was careful not to stroke himself as he slid over her slit and rested at her entrance, the warmth and slick wetness of her inviting him in. He covered her body with his and her smile grew. He pushed past her folds, filling her slowly, as much for his benefit as hers, he wanted to feel every inch of her.

He wanted her so bad, but he wanted more than that. He wanted to fuck her so hard, make her feel so fucking good, that she was ruined for any other man. He knew he probably sounded like an asshole, a misogynist pig, but he didn’t care, he was fucking in love with her.

Chloe’s eyes opened and Sy locked her in his gaze. As he stretched her open, she whined, rolling her hips. Without looking away, Sy hooked his arm under her knee, giving him more room.

“You always take all of me, baby,” Sy groaned as her core enclosed him, all of him. “And you feel fuckin’ amazin’.”

Withdrawing slowly, Sy thrust hard into Chloe, the friction divine, he clenched his jaw as he started to build his rhythm. Chloe wrapped her arms around his back and lifted her body to his. She nuzzled into his chest, her lips soft as she pressed them against his furry skin. Sy hummed, it felt nice, loving, something she rarely was when they fucked. Then he heard a sob and her body shook.

Sy froze, that was new, she never done anything like that before. He tried to pull out and ask her if he hurt her, but then he heard her plea. “Stay.”

Releasing Chloe’s leg, Sy laid her back on the bed, but didn’t pull out. He held his weight with one arm and stroked her hair with the other. Still holding him tight, Sy couldn’t see her as she hid her face from him. “Look at me, Chloe.”

Shyly Chloe looked at him. Her eyes were red, tears had rolled down her face and disappeared into her thick red locks.

“Did I hurtcha?” Sy asked. Chloe shook her head and tried to hide again. Sy stopped her with a tender hand to her cheek. He looked at her a long time, his heart raced as she stared back at him.

“It’s just that I…” Chloe paused as the tears welled again and her green eyes shone with a vividness that took Sy’s breath away. “I missed you so much, Sy.”

Her words brought a new heat to Sy’s blood, and he laid his forehead on Chloe’s. “Baby, I ain’t ever lettin’ you go again.”

Sy brought his lips to Chloe’s, as if to seal his promise with a kiss. She returned his kiss and he felt her move beneath him. He matched her movements, groaning into her mouth. He tried to keep and easy pace, but he couldn’t. The closer he got to his release, the faster and harder he moved. Chloe went with him, meeting him with every thrust. She didn’t let him go though, her arms clung to his back. And when it was over, she held him still.

He didn’t know if they would last, if they could go the distance, but he ignored those thoughts, packed them away to deal with another day. That night all he could focus on was Chloe, and the calming relief he felt. As cliché as it was, Sy slept easy for the first time since she left.

Tag List 1

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay @stxlemate @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @eldarwen333 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @summersong69 @littlefreya @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @myloveforhenrycavill @mary-ann84 @tellingyouastory @beck07990 @zealoushound @sofiebstar @sweetlybigdragonn @bloodyinspiredfuck @marantha @diegos-butt @greensleeves888 @endofalldays01 @justaboringadult @ysmmsy @offroadinjandals @littlewrenofrivia @pussyverson @foxyjwls007 @kebabgirl67

#captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson #captain sy #captain syverson x ofc #captain syverson pov #cpt syverson #syverson x ofc #syverson fanfiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill

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jaimehwatson · 2 years ago

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Jaime’s Our Flag Means Death Fanfiction

I’ve written a bunch of Our Flag Means Death fanfiction since watching the show for the first time earlier this year, and I realized it’s way past time to make a round-up post listing it all! Read on if you’re interested in some short stories about Edward Teach fucking and sucking and experiencing emotions. (The majority of them center around him and Stede being adorable, but Izzy and Jack also make some appearances in the angstier ones, and then I surprised even myself by writing an Izzy/Roach one most recently too!)

Sounds kind of dumb when I say it, but it's true: I would do anything for you - Ed/Stede The first one I wrote not long after finishing the show! A short and sweet first time for Ed and Stede. (Along with a lot of my other ones, this one takes place after a vague and non-specific reunion of some kind. I wasn’t personally interested in writing the details of how they find each other again and resolve their issues—I’ll leave that for the show!—so just assume everyone is mostly fine and don’t worry about it.)

I hope it stays dark forever, I hope the worst isn't over - Ed/Izzy In contrast to the cuteness of the first one, this one is pretty dark and involves Ed getting a very sad bad blowjob from Izzy. Enjoy!

Want to do something weird? - Ed/Stede Ed and Stede swap outfits again—this time for some (very mild and light-hearted) consensual non-consent roleplay in which Stede plays the role of Blackbeard and vice versa. This one is pretty funny honestly I think.

Restless Nights - Ed/Stede A two-parter with a time skip in between, in which there is Only One Bed! In chapter one, Ed and Stede awkwardly share a bed early in their acquaintance, with Ed being inconveniently turned on by it and Stede being super oblivious. Then chapter two picks up with them in a relationship, sharing the bed habitually on purpose, and reflecting on how much things have changed since then. This one has the most kudos of any of my works on Ao3 so far, so it comes highly recommended by the only-one-bed-lovers of that website! Also features a little bit of soft dom Stede.

Beach Episode - Ed/Stede This was the 69th fic I ever posted on Ao3, so you can absolutely guess what happens in it. Also features from backstory for Ed’s knee injury thanks to resident kinesiology expert @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book!

Let them kiss you and hold you tight, as long as the money's right - Ed/Jack (plus brief Ed/OC and then a cute Ed/Stede epilogue) Angst with a happy ending about young Ed doing sex work and then having a bad relationship with Calico Jack, which he goes on to have a sweet conversation about with Stede at the end. This one comes with my fiancé’s seal of approval—he’s been gradually reading through all these after catching up on the show more recently, and he says this one is his favourite so far because it has the best emotional throughline. And if you need any more encouragement to read it, Calico Jack gets punched in the face during sex!

You're the sun that makes me shine - Ed/Stede In a lot of my other fic, I tend to write Ed as a bottom because of the irresistible parallels to the “run me through” scene. But for this one I decided to switch it up and write about Stede’s first time bottoming instead! Another very short and sweet one.

Silk and Smoke - Ed/Stede In this slightly silly one, Ed and Stede smoke some weed and jack each other off. Also features Lucius walking in on them, and Ed being kind of into that.

What makes Ed happy? - Ed/Jack, Ed/Izzy, and then Ed/Stede over three separate parts I posted this as a series rather than one three-chapter work, since each part can be read as stand-alone if you’d prefer, but as a whole it explores how Ed changes over three different points in his life. It’s got motifs and everything! The middle one with Izzy gets pretty dark, but as this is Izzy Hands we’re talking about, really you can be pretty sure that he’s into it.

If it's blood you want, I've got plenty of it—you're gonna love it - Izzy/Roach primarily but there’s some Ed/Izzy in there too Finally, I got inspired by seeing some good tumblr posts about the ship to write some Izzy/Roach! So in my most recent fic, Izzy gets injured, Roach has to sew up his wound, and Izzy is unexpectedly into it. Ed is there too because I love him!

Thanks for reading this post, and I hope you enjoy my fic if you check some out! I’m sure I’ll be writing more soon :)

#our flag means death #ofmd #fanfiction #my writing

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its-me-im-coraline · 3 years ago

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Never Ending // Damiano David

words // around 1400

warnings // angst and it's not proofread very well

pairing // Damiano x GN!Reader, and some EthanxDamiano Bromance

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. FINALLY I POSTED AGAIN OMG!!!!!

request // yes but II could not find the exact one so this is out of memory

summary // Damiano and reader had been together for some time when they realised their relationship is not going very well. A break up was the best idea at the time, but a while later it gets revealed that it’s not.

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @justme-and-myobsession @cheese-toastie-11 @selenophiliaxx @atremendousstrawberrycollection @bidet-and-legolas @hiraetheral

It was almost a mutual decision for them to break up. Almost.

The last few months of the relationship had been painful on both of them, but while Damiano was still hopeful that things would look up soon, Y/N was finding it difficult to hold on. The distance and friction had weighed down on his lover significantly, making it hard to get up in the morning, making it a struggle to ever go back home, knowing that the most probable scenario was fighting and sleeping on different sides of the bed. Y/N could not take it anymore, something had to be done.

That night was fateful for the pair. Damiano could still recall all the crying, from both sides, and the yelling, the pleads, oh the pleads! For the first time in his life, the man was pleading, practically on his knees, for some more time. He was persuaded that if they gave it a bit more time it would work out, it always did. He asked time and time again for his love to give them another chance, but, after hearing their struggle and the pain in their voice, he could not deny that the relationship was making his person whither in front of his eyes; and he couldn’t put the person he loves most through so much pain because he did not have the strength to let go, because he was being selfish.

Since the break up Damiano got isolated, struggling to get out of bed, only ever writing lyrics and throwing them away. Sometimes he would cry, but mostly he would smoke. That was his routine for days. His friends had gotten worried, trying to call him and pull him out of that damned room but it did not seem possible. Nothing would work, no food, no drinks, no parties were tempting enough to get him outside. Ethan, being the one to see Damiano most often, could not stand seeing this unfold in front of his eyes and do nothing.

“Damiano!” Ethan’s voice boomed through the apartment, catching Damiano’s attention.

“No,” he called back, his face deep in the pillow, “get out.”

It hurt. It hurt like a bitch. Both the man that was currently drowning his emotions in the soft pillow of his bed - oh and how it smelled like them, but also his very own friends. Ethan could feel his heart sink every time he visited.

He had begun doing that since the first few days of the break up. Damiano had rushed to Ethan first, crashing in his couch, sobbing in his friends arms. Seeing the frontman self distract day by day worried him and he simply had to do something before he lost his friend in this mess.

“I’m going nowhere, Dami. Not without you. Get up, we have places to go to. Dress nice.” The determination in his voice and the look he gave the lying man left no place for argument. The singer had to get up, and he had to dress nice.

Thus, he did just that, and in all honesty he enjoyed it. The cool water on his face when he finally washed it after days, or the warm water on his body as he showered - he could feel the knots in his back resolving, calming down the physical pain his heartbreak brought. He felt nicer when he shaved his face, being able to smell his own cologne and aftershave made him feel a bit relaxed. Finally getting into some fresh clothes was possibly the best feeling out of all, like the cherry on top.

He never learned where they were going, until they were already there, and that was possibly the last place he wanted to be in. A party was the last thing he needed, but now it was too late. “Ethan-”

“No, Damiano! Enough! I let you grieve this relationship for far too long. You can not be doing this any more. You have to let go.”

No words, no breath. Nothing could come out of Damiano’s lips but a sigh of defeat. Ethan was right, and both of the men knew it - hell, everyone that saw him knew that.

Inside the house the music was deafening, some random radio pop song was blasted through some surprisingly big speakers, the alcohol was plenty - almost never ending, and the snacks seemed to be greatly appreciated. For the first time in a while, Damiano thought he had a chance to let them go. Alas, fate was not on his side tonight. Within his vicinity was the one person he could not face; Y/N. They were wearing that outfit he loved, the one that made him look at them with googly eyes. They looked beautiful, like a nymph, all dressed up in magic.

The day dream was cut short as Leo approached the two men. Small talk ensued, but nothing too much, he could tolerate that. Mindless things, words about drinks, it was all alright. Until Leo spoke for the last time, “it must be hard that Y/N’s here, man. Sorry for that. I didn’t know. I should have ne-”

“Leo, it’s fine. You couldn’t have known, and I am fine.” His lips said that, but he was now not sure he meant it, while sitting on one of the houses balcony, cigarette in one hand and the ring in the other, the only place where he could take his mind off. So many thoughts went through his head. There was the sadness and the anger. Things were just about to be better, he was planning on making it better. He had already bought an engage-

“Oh- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to!” The door took him out of his thoughts, just now making him realise he had tears in his eyes. Quickly he dried them while hidding away the ring, turning around to see the face behind the voice.

“It’s ok- Y/N?”

“Da-damiano? Uhm, hi. Sorry, I’ll just go-”

“No, no, no! Sit! It’s ok. I know parties can get you overwhelmed… It’s ok.”

Neither of the two knew what to say for a second, they only embraced the silence that fell, as if nothing changed, as if they were still together and enjoying each other’s company with no words needed. Damiano was in the corner of the small balcony, leaning on the bars and looking at the restrained view he could get from the house, the cigarette lit up in his hand as he took puffs from it. He was dying inside just like that, his fingers were grazing the ring in his pocket. He could not get rid of it, he could not move without the only good reminder of what he used to have. It was bittersweet; pain and comfort in one little piece of metal and a stone.

Y/N on the other hand was standing by the balcony door, leaning on the sides of it. They were looking at the city lights, moving or not, but it did not calm their mind, that was running with no break. It was all thoughts of the man sitting not even two meters away. It would be a big lie to say that they did not think about him often since the break up - if anything they thought of him more now, regretting every word that came out that night.

Before either of the two could register what was happening Y/N had started crying, silently at first, but the more thoughts they got, the more their body responded with sobs. The sound was heart-shattering, almost like knives, painful enough to make Damiano scared to turn around.

“I should have never done that,” they mumbled, “I-I… I should have never broken up with you, Damiano. Oh god- I haven’t stopped thinking of that-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” the man whispered, quick to move to his feet and embrace his former lover. Oh how he missed this feeling. “I’ve got you,” he continued.

The next few minutes were spent like that: the two embracing each other, Y/N sobbing in the arms of the man they so much desired, incohorable sorrys and such escaping their lips. Damiano would say nothing but quietly shush them, stroking their back softly, until they finally quieted down. His cigarette was long forgotten on the ashtray, all of him being focused on Y/N.

“I am sorry, Damiano… I- I hurt you. A lot.”

“It’s ok-”

“No it’s not! You were doing your best to keep this relationship alive, and I? Well, I gave up," they huffed, arms wrapped around themselves as shivers run down their spine from the current emotions.

“You were in pain, my love. You were struggling. It’s understandable. It’s ok."

"You can love me again? After all that" Y/N asked, almost shocked at the possibility of a positive answer.

"Who said I ever stopped?"

#måneskin #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin imagine #måneskin fanfic #måneskin imagine #maneskin #damiano david imagine #damiano david #damiano maneskin

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taetaespeaches · 4 years ago

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“I hate fighting with you.”

jungkook x reader (or oc) genre: fluff; angst word count: 3.7K

a/n: Hi lovelies! Here is the resolution to the fight between Jungkook and Holly in, “You think I’d leave you if you falter?” Turns out, these two are pretty damn good at resolving conflicts. This features a little bit of Kid (over the phone). Parts of this are loosely based on ‘seven’ by Taylor Swift. I hope you all enjoy, and as always, thanks for reading! :))

YEARS of compartmentalizing feelings were coming in handy as you worked on the conclusion of your essay. However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to write when all you wanted to do was sprint to the dorm and figure things out with your boyfriend.

For about the thirtieth time since he walked out, after you asked him to leave, you checked your phone. You wanted to text or call him. Things got out of hand and you never meant to lay all of that on him in that moment. It should have come out in a proper conversation, where both of you could listen to each other calmly without emotions being so high.

Your heart hadn’t stopped racing since he left, and your anxiety was only intensifying. The more time that went by, the less focused you were on writing, your ability to keep the fight concealed in a box in your mind dwindling. Your feelings were spilling out throughout your mind and body, the sadness and disappointment flooding your thoughts.

Your phone started ringing and you reached for it instantly, breathing out with a huff when you saw it was not Jungkook but rather “The Queen”, your close friend, who was also Yoongi’s girlfriend.

Completely unsure of how to handle the fight, you resorted to texting the girl, knowing she usually handed out amazing advice, and also knowing that she and Yoongi had some difficult times early on in their relationship. Though the issues were different than hers and Yoongi’s, you thought she might be able to provide some insight as to how to handle conflict when both parties obviously love each other and want things to work.

Answering the phone, you greeted her with a sigh before saying, “Hello.”

“Hey, bubs,” she greeted, sympathy lacing her tone.

“I shouldn’t have asked him to leave, should I have?” You asked her, hearing her sigh into the phone.

“I mean, it’s complicated, you’re working on an essay. That’s important,” she reminded you.

“But now it looks like I’m prioritizing my assignment over Jungkook,” you whined, feeling like a complete asshole.

“And? What’s the issue with that?” She asked bluntly.

“I just don’t want to hurt him, I guess, I don’t know,” you explained.

“Jungkook understands deadlines, he’s not going to see it as you prioritizing something above him, it’s just sometimes things do rank higher in immediate importance. It was just shit timing, he gets that,” she told you, you humming in response.

“Yeah I guess,” you agreed, thinking about the situation.

“The kid may act like a selfish jerk sometimes but he’s not actually a selfish jerk,” she reminded you. “I mean but throwing a tantrum over the dishes? Really? Remind me to fucking punch him next time I see him.”

You let out a light laugh at the comment.

“Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for taking care of yourself or your responsibilities,” she told you.

You groaned, your friend waiting patiently for your next words. “I know, you’re right. I just hate this feeling so much, we’re usually so in sync and now I just dumped all this stuff on him and he had no idea I had any of these feelings. I mean, you should have seen his face, dude, he was devastated.”

“No matter how in sync you two usually are, you’re still two individuals with different thoughts and emotions and that means communication isn’t always going to go easy,” she said, pausing for a moment as you both sat in silence. “Neither of you should have taken your stress out on each other, but it happens. And as for the deeper-rooted issues you laid out there, those do need to be addressed. Again, maybe shit timing, but it’s necessary to have those complicated conversations,” she pointed out.

“I just don’t want to lose him,” you admitted, tears forming in your eyes as your voice quavered. “I’m so scared I fucked it all up.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t,” she immediately negated. “Things may feel heavy right now but this doesn’t mark the end of anything. Jungkook is in this with you. He’s just going to be even more determined now to make sure you feel loved, and if he doesn’t, he’s not worth it to be completely honest,” she told you, you thinking about the words. “Look, I know he loves you. I mean, honestly, it’s a good thing that I actually adore you because I don’t think I’ve had a conversation with the guy since you two met where he didn’t bring you up,” she lightly laughed, you scoffing as you chuckled.

“Ok, same though, I can’t shut the fuck up about him either,” you admitted.

“Yeah, I know,” she laughed, “you two are annoying.”

“Says you, little miss, honey boy this, honey boy that,” you teased her, your friend gasping in feigned offense.

“Whatever, I can’t stand that dude,” she joked, both of you fully aware of how fond she was of Yoongi.

“Is he home?” You asked.

“No, he’ll probably be in the studio all night. I might head over there in a little bit and just sleep there,” she told you, but the information had your heart clenching. If Yoongi was pulling all-nighters in the studio, Jungkook’s current work stress was probably more intense than he was letting on.

“Look, finish your essay and then call him. And if you can’t focus on the essay, then maybe call him now. You don’t have to figure everything out right at this moment, but maybe reaching out and letting him know that you do want to figure it out as soon as possible will help both of you relax,” she told you, the words resonating with you as you realized that’s all you wanted in this moment. Just to give and receive assurance that everything would be ok soon.

“Thank you,” you pouted, tears forming in your eyes again. “I feel a lot better now. Like, still shit but at least better.”

“You know it’s not a problem,” she dismissed her role in helping you. “Everything will be just fine, let me know how it all goes, ok?”

“I will,” you told her. “Thank you, I love you.”

“Love you too,” she replied before the line went dead.

As soon as the call ended, you were tapping on your phone, preparing to call Jungkook, when your front door suddenly opened. Snapping your head in the direction of the intruder, startled by the sudden entrance, you found your boyfriend, his fluffy hair windswept and amess on top his pretty head.

“Sorry,” Jungkook muttered in apology for your frightened expression. His eyes were wide and doe-like as always, but you could see their reddened coloring and the puffiness from across the room. He came back, and that was all the assurance you needed to know that everything would be ok.

“Jungkook,” you breathed out, preparing to stand up from your spot on the floor, your back against the sofa, but he held a hand out to halt you.

“No, no, don’t get up,” he told you. “Is your essay done?”

“Jungkook,” you repeated, but he ignored you, instead striding towards you and looking overtop you at your laptop screen. “I’m at the conclusion.”

“That’s good, right?” He asked, his eyes adorably innocent as they stared at you from above.

“I’m losing focus,” you whined pathetically, Jungkook frowning.

“Because of me?” He asked, the hurt and regret evident in his features.

“It’s not your fault,” you told him sincerely, Jungkook giving you a disbelieving look. “It’s not, baby, it’s not just on you.”

“Can I sit with you as you finish?” He suddenly asked, his expression hopeful but nervous, as if you just might turn him down. How could you ever?

“Yeah,” you barely spoke through a whisper, nodding a couple times. “Can we talk?”

“We will, I promise,” he assured you, bending down as he cradled your face in between your hands. “After you finish this, ok? For now, just know I love you and I’m here because I want to work through this.”

He left a kiss to your forehead, you pouting in response to his affection. Stepping away, he stretched out across the sofa, laying his head to the side of yours, placing his hand at the back of your head. As he massaged the spot gently, you leaned into the touch before taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Thank you for coming back,” you told him. “I want to work through this too.”

You felt his lips press to the top of your head, accompanied by a whispered, “I know, baby.” With that, you took one more deep breath, refocusing on the assignment.

You tapped the keys on your laptop, the thoughts flowing to you much easier in the presence of Jungkook, his hand staying at the back of your head to soothe you and remind you of his care for you. Time went by fairly quickly, for you at least, as you wrapped up the essay and went back through it, cleaning up sentences, fixing thoughts, and ensuring your citations were done correctly.

“Okay,” you said through an exhale, Jungkook sitting up to look over your shoulder at the screen.

“Is it done?” He asked, his tone sweet.

You hummed, looking toward him. “I don’t know, I think it’s as good as it’s gonna get,” you told him, Jungkook moving his gaze from the computer to you. “Would you mind reading it for me?”

Your boyfriend quickly sat up, crossing his legs underneath him as he held his hands out for you to give him the laptop. “How much time do you have left?” He asked as you placed the device into his hold.

“Twenty-one minutes,” you told him through a scrunched-up face, Jungkook smiling slightly.

“Ok, that’s plenty of time, you’re good,” he assured you just before he began reading. You watched him intently as he read through the essay, your lips occasionally quirking up as he’d nod his head, physically responding to your points.

Endearing. If you could only choose one word for Jungkook, which was just not enough words for the man sitting next to you, you thought you’d choose endearing. Your boyfriend was so gentle and kind and considerate and thoughtful, and observing him in that moment, you wondered how he could ever make you feel as though you had to be perfect to keep his love.

But maybe that was the issue. He was never messy, emotional, frenzied, rarely moody, and even less so selfish. As you stared at him, you began realizing that it wasn’t actually the way he praised you or very occasionally nagged you, but was rather entirely your perception of him that made you feel inadequate. And how could that be his fault?

Jungkook’s voice broke through your thoughts as he met your gaze with his bright orbs. “It’s really good, baby.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I had no clue what you were talking about in the beginning,” he smiled slightly, you letting out a light chuckle, “but by the end I feel like I could explain to someone else what you wrote about.”

“Are you sure?” You asked doubtfully.

“I’m sure,” he told you. “Turn it in.”

Sighing, you nodded. “Ok,” you agreed. “I don’t have time to change anything anyways,” you smiled, Jungkook giggling.

“It’s great,” he told you once more, handing you the laptop. He watched as you attached the file to the module, your pointer hovering over the submission button. “Do it,” he whispered encouragingly, you pressing the button with a giggle.

“Well, if I failed, I failed,” you looked to him, Jungkook rolling his eyes with a shake of his head.

“What was going on? You’re usually so quick with your essays. I mean, you’re an amazing writer,” he stumbled over his words, you simply shrugging.

“I don’t even know, I think I was just having some sort of mental block,” you told him with a frown.

“Our fight definitely couldn’t have helped,” he noted sadly.

“Can we talk now?” You asked, Jungkook nodding immediately.

“Come here,” he patted the cushion in front of him, you standing up just to plant yourself on top of the couch. You both sat across from each other, face to face, legs crossed underneath yourselves.

“You know if you didn’t get that essay done in time, I would love you just the same, right?” He asked you, you looking at him thoughtfully. “Or if you get it back and it’s not the score you’re hoping for?” You prepared to respond, but his next words cut you off before you could begin. “I don’t love you because I think you’re perfect, I love you because you’re you.”

Exhaling, you licked your bottom lip, directing your eyes to Jungkook’s knee that was bumping against your own. “I do know that,” you told him.

“Yeah?” He asked, sincerely curious.

“I think I was wrong,” you admitted, meeting his eyes, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I know you love me for me, as I am, but I’m still scared to show you me when I’m not at my best because I feel like I won’t be enough for you.”

“Baby-”

“Not because of how you treat me,” you quickly added, interrupting him. “But because I never see you be anything but this strong and collected person and I don’t want to be the one who’s always a mess while you’re totally fine.”

“I’m not always fine though,” he told you, his eyes sincere as he shook his head. “I handle my struggles pretty well, and I handle them alone, because I’ve never wanted to burden my members when they were going through their own shit,” he explained, you listening intently.

“It’s my fault,” he held his hand against his chest, “that you’ve never seen me in a vulnerable state. I’m so used to hiding my problems from other people that-” he paused, his eyes glistening with tears. “That I’ve hidden them from the one person I want to share them with.”

“You want to share them with me?” You asked, tears forming in your own eyes.

“I don’t want to burden you or worry you with my struggles, but at the same time, I want your help,” he told you, the admission tipping you over as you let out a quiet sob. Jungkook instinctively reached forward, placing his hands on your cheeks as he wiped tears away. “You’re gonna make me cry,” he told you through a giggle, his tears building up.

“I want to see them,” you pouted, immediately realizing how the words sounded. “Oh my god, that sounds so bad,” you whined, Jungkook’s smile spreading across his face as he laughed. “I just mean I want to be the person you can show that to,” you giggled.

“I know what you mean, baby,” he nodded. “I don’t want to hide any part of me from you anymore, ok?”

Nodding, you turned your head in his hold to leave a kiss to the side of his thumb. “I don’t either,” you whispered against his hand, Jungkook smiling in relief.

It was then that his tears fell, you looking at him in surprise as your crying was stopping due to the resolution. “Oh, baby,” you pouted, crawling forward to place yourself in his lap, Jungkook’s arms easily wrapping around you as he tucked his face into your neck.

“I hate fighting with you,” he cried against your skin, you cooing at his pure heart.

“Me too, baby,” you told him, running your hand soothingly over the back of his head. “Hey, we’re good at resolving things though,” you pointed out, Jungkook letting out a breathy laugh, tickling your neck.

Sniffling, he sat up straight, wiping his face carelessly with the back of his hand as he nodded. “We are pretty good at it,” he giggled. You watched as he resituated himself on the couch so he was reclined, holding his arms open for you to cuddle up next to him, which you did eagerly.

Looking up at his face, you saw the way his jawline slightly shined in the living room light, you pulling your sleeve over the palm of your hand to dab the tear residue from his face.

You both stayed in each other’s arms in silence for a little while, Jungkook’s breath becoming slower and more relaxed as you dragged your finger in patterns on his chest.

“Do you ever feel like you peaked at like, 11?” You asked, him, Jungkook pulling his chin into his neck to look down at you.

He looked at you thoughtfully, a small crease etched into the skin at the top of the bridge of his nose. “Yeah sometimes,” he agreed. “Maybe not 11, but sometime in childhood.”

“I wish you could have known me when I was a kid,” you told him. “When I was uninhibited, just being me with no apologies every day.”

“I wonder at what age we lose that sense of ourselves,” Jungkook thought out loud.

You hummed, still tracing invisible drawings across your boyfriend’s t-shirt covered chest. “I don’t know, I look at some people, like Tae and even his Peaches,” you both giggled fondly, “and I think that some people have managed to hold onto that part of themselves. Like even though they mature and grow up, they don’t lose that inner child. Even you,” you added.

“Do you think you’ve lost yours?” He asked, you puckering your lips in thought.

“Sometimes. I’m so controlled now, I used to be free. I wasn’t so concerned about concealing everything,” you explained, Jungkook nodding in understanding.

“She’s still in there,” he told you. “I’ve seen her, we’ve met a couple times. We’re acquaintances,” he smiled, you giggling at the comment. “She just needs to know it’s ok to show herself.”

“You’re really sweet,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “What were you like as a kid?”

“I was a bit of a brat,” he grinned.

Laughing, you pulled a face of feigned shock. “No,” you said sarcastically.

“Can you believe it?” He joked, wrapping his arm around your waist a little tighter. “No, I was a brat but I was a good kid. I had a nice childhood.” You watched him thoughtfully, noticing he had more to say. You waited patiently for him to continue, dragging your fingers over his abdomen. “I just sometimes think it got cut short.”

Jungkook moved away from home much earlier than most people ever even thought of living away from their parents. You had no doubt that with his long days of training, he felt that his childhood ended earlier than it should have.

“I’m sorry baby,” you told him, feeling sympathetic for the younger version of your boyfriend.

“No,” he quickly shook his head. “I wouldn’t change anything, but it’s interesting to think about,” he told you, staring at the ceiling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, my life could have been totally different. I’m happy with how it turned out, but, choosing a career as a kid, I don’t know, there’s a lot of opportunities that I never even got to consider.” You hummed in understanding, Jungkook letting out a scoff. “I sound ungrateful,” he pointed out, you quickly negating the comment.

“No, you really don’t. Everyone knows you’re grateful for what you have, but it’s ok to wonder about what your life would have been without all of this. And it doesn’t mean you wish things turned out differently, it’s just, like you said, interesting to think about.”

“I think the hyungs preserved as much of my childhood as they could,” he told you, and maybe even to himself. “That’s why I never wanted to burden them.”

Hearing him talk so fondly about his members brought tears to your eyes, and you could tell by the way Jungkook sniffled and coughed to clear his throat, he was becoming emotional as well.

“They’re amazing people,” you told him through a warm smile. “I love them a lot.”

The confession, which he already knew, made him look from the ceiling to you, your two teary sets of eyes meeting. You both giggled at each other and yourselves as Jungkook pulled a silly expression to lighten the mood.

“You know,” he started, the allusion in his tone piquing your interest. “I knew I was in love with you probably one month into knowing you,” he admitted, you smiling at the comment. “Which I don’t know if that’s early or too soon to tell, but I knew I felt it. But when we went and did karaoke that one night, that’s when I was so sure that I couldn’t not tell you.”

You remembered the date vividly. You went and did karaoke with Jungkook, his members, and their girlfriends, and well… Peaches. You had only met them all a few times before that, but somehow, you felt like you belonged with them.

“I didn’t know that,” you smiled brightly. “That’s why you confessed that night?”

At the end of the night, everyone went their separate ways, and as you and Jungkook were walking to your apartment, he told you he loved you.

“Yeah,” he giggled in slight embarrassment. “Watching you get along so well with everyone and seeing them treat you as their own friend, I just, I knew.”

Your eyes glistened again, Jungkook’s own bambi eyes looking at you with a sheen. You groaned in disgust of your cute moment, adding, “We’re really cute, aren’t we?”

Jungkook laughed at your comment and expression, nodding in agreement. “We’re really cute, baby.” Sighing, you crawled up his body so you were eye level with him. “Maybe even the cutest,” he added teasingly, his eyes flickering to your lips.

“You might be right,” you whispered, your lips barely grazing his own, Jungkook smiling before placing a hand at the back of your head, lifting his face toward yours to kiss you firmly.

The kiss was messy with smiles and giggles, forgiveness and acceptance His hand left your head to wrap around your lower back, pulling your body as flush with his as it could be.

“I love you,” you breathed out, mumbling against his mouth, Jungkook purposefully nudging your nose with his.

“I love you so much,” he replied, the words just as mumbled as yours.

And fuck, you really did love each other. And maybe he was right. Perhaps you were the cutest.

824 notes · View notes

peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 4 years ago

Text

The Sanguine Web - Part 1

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this, it is the first part of my 100 follower special, the other parts are coming shortly. I’ve been really wanting to a Hanahaki fic for awhile so here it is. I also want to do some different soulmate au’s so those will be coming soon! Love you guys so much xx

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death and blood

Summary: You try to figure out how to tell your friends your sick

Prompts

Masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

(y/n)’s pov

“I know this diagnosis is scary, but we’ve got a quite few options now,” Dr. Shaw smiled, though it felt a little backhanded, “Not, the only way we can guarantee your safe recovery is removal of the infection, but the good news there are plenty of doctors in the city who know how to perform the surgery so it wouldn’t take us very long at all to get you in. Alternatively, having your feelings requited will lead to the infection dying off on its own, or, you can try to resolve your own feelings. If you’d rather pursue one of those then a good first step is talking to them, as scary as that may be.”

“Okay,” I have to let everything soak in for just a minute, “Is the surgery risky?” “The actual surgery is very safe, though it will lead to the removal of your feelings for that person. The only real risk is the chance that it prevents you from falling in love in the future.”

“What are the chances that happens?”

“It’s about fifty fifty, and unfortunately there isn’t really a way for us to tell if that will be you, it’s just a risk we have to take,” she clasps her arms in front of her, “I’m not asking you to decide today, you’ve caught this very early so we’ve got a bit of time to figure things out. Until then I can recommend a therapist who specializes in Hanahaki’s, and there’s some antibiotics I can prescribe you that will help slow the infection.”

“Okay, thank you,” I swallow the lump forming in my throat, “I think maybe I’ll try and talk to him and work it out that way.”

She nodded, “Okay, most patients opt to try that first. We can still get you into surgery later if that doesn’t work out.”

“How late can I opt in?”

“Up until the infection starts spreading, once it’s outside of your lungs the surgery won’t do anything. However, if your feelings were to change at that point or your feelings are requited, there is still a chance you’d be able to pull through,” she began scribbling things onto a notepad, “That’s still far off right now, but this disease it unpredictable, so we’ll need you to come in every week for blood work and xrays. We’ll monitor everything very closely so we’ll know if we start getting close to the point of no return so to speak.”

“Alright, I guess straight to the pharmacy then?”

She nodded, “Good girl, and you call us if you need anything. If things feel like they’re accelerating or you start coughing up a lot straight to the hospital okay?”

I nod, “Okay, thank you.”

“Of course, I’ll see you next week.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I took the subway to the pharmacy stuck in an odd state of numbness. Part of me wanted to cry, or scream, but I just didn’t do anything. I’m in shock until the woman behind the pharmacy counter begins speaking to me.

“Alright sweetheart what can I do for you?” “Just getting this filled,” I hand her my prescription with a forced smile.

She takes the paper, squinting at it before frowning, “Oh my…” she types a few things and sighs, “I’ll be right back,” I drum my fingers nervously on the counter while I wait for her to return, finally she does carrying a little white bag, “I know this isn’t totally appropriate but I know they only prescribe this for one thing and…” she trails off for a second, starting to blush, “Well my girlfriend had Hanahaki’s too, and she was really scared, but she ended up telling me how she felt and it was great, she recovered just like that,” she offers me a sympathetic smile, “I know this is hard but you should talk to them, I’m sure whoever they are, they’ll at least want to help.”

It’s sweet of her to say, so I thank her and shove the bag in my purse on my way out. I’m sure Peter would want to help, but he’s with someone else, and they love each other. I don’t get to confess and clear things up and live happily ever after. I have to move on, it’s the only option for me. I’m not getting that surgery and risking never falling in love again. That’s not fair. Just because I fell for the wrong person this time I have to never love again? Or die?

I’m tearing up when I get home, and unfortunately everyone is already over.

Betty beams at me from the couch, “Hey, how’d it go?”

“Good,” my voice shakes a little, “They think it’s just, um, allergies. I’ve got some pills that should start clearing it up.”

She nods, though all of them look a little concerned, “You’re gonna be okay then right?”

I lie through my teeth, “Nothing life threatening.”

“Okay…” she seems to buy it, but I’m sure she’ll end up drilling me on it later, “You wanna join us then?” “Sure, just, uh, give me a second,” I retreat to my bedroom, dumping my purse and jacket before clutching myself tight. I just want to cry, but I have to wait, everyone’s going to know something is wrong if I try to hide out.

I return to the living room after consoluling myself for a minute, taking a seat besides Betty on the couch, “We ordered pizza,” MJ smiles, “I got that veggie one I was telling you about.”

“Hope it’s good,” I bite my cheek, I feel guilty even talking to her.

“It’s amazing, you’re gonna love it,” she insists.

Betty’s eyes bore into me suspiciously, “Are they really sure it’s just allergies?”

I nod, “Of course Betty, I promise I don’t need a lung transplant or something.”

“Are you sure?” she presses, “There was blood.”

“Blood?” MJ raises a brow.

Betty nods, “Yeah, she was coughing up blood last night, that’s why she even went to the doctor. It seemed worse than allergies.”

“My throat was just dry,” I try to explain, “I promise I’m fine, it’s just something in the air right now.”

“Okay,” she lets up, “But if you do need a lung transplant I’ve got you.”

“And maybe if you give (y/n) one of your lungs you two will get some sort of psychic connection,” Ned interjected, “I bet they’d make a tv show about you guys.”

Everyone starts laughing, and for the first time that day I let myself glance up at Peter. He’s so pretty, and so is his laugh, but before I can appreciate either of those things I start coughing. It’s an almost instant reminder that I can’t do that. Something tickles in my throat so I quickly stand up.

“Are you okay?” Peter frowns at me. I nod quickly, “Just need some water,” I cover my mouth with my hand as I struggle to pour myself some water.

I bend over the sink to make sure none of them can see the petal I cough up. I know it must be a begonia. Last finals week was really stressful for me, and in the middle of the week Peter had dragged me away from the cave I was studying in to relax for a while. He took me to this cute little market and bought me some flowers while we were out, begonias.

I shove the petal down the garbage disposal and wash away the blood, I’ll have to figure out what to do when I start coughing up more, full flowers too.

“Are you sure you're good?” Betty questions when I stand back up, I swear she has xray vision or something.

“Yeah, better now,” I take a big swig of my water, “I’ll be good as new in a few days.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Make yourself comfortable,” Dr. Morrison picks a notebook up off her desk. She seems very nice, I just hope she’ll be able to help me work through some of my feelings, “I’m really glad you came here, therapy can be scary, especially in your situation, so coming here is already a step in the right direction.”

“Thanks, I’m still a little nervous, but anything to help.”

She gives one kurt nod and glances down at her notepad, “Absolutely. I’d like to know what your intention is here so I can know how to help you best. Do you intend to get surgery?” I shake my head, “No, I’m not gonna get the surgery. I want to just try and move on.”

“Alright, is this person aware of your feelings?”

I shake my head, “No, he’s with someone else so that isn’t really an option for me.”

She nods, “Okay, can I ask his name?”

“Peter.”

“Peter,” she repeats, scribbling a few things down, “Are you two close?”

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.”

“Is he aware that you're sick?”

“No, I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Why’s that?”

“I know they’d ask who and I don’t know what to tell them yet, and it’s still new. I mean I want to tell them eventually, but I think I still need some time.”

“Of course, you need to process everything first, that’s perfectly reasonable. I do encourage you to tell them though, having a good support system is going to help you feel a lot better, and you can always let them know you just don’t feel comfortable telling them who it is.”

“I will.”

She smiled, “So, what do you like about Peter?”

I blush, “Everything I guess, he’s smart and he’s funny and I always feel really good when I’m with him. I don’t know, we just kind of click.”

“You two spend a lot of time together?”

I nod, “Yeah, we hang out all the time, I probably see him more than my actual roommate.”

“How would you feel about spending less time together?”

“He’s my best friend, why would I do that?”

“Separation is going to help you move on, I’m not saying stop being friends or avoid him, but giving yourself space from him is going to be good for you.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I feel like therapy went well, I feel more hopeful when we finish, although I’m definitely tired. She told me the goal is to get me really comfortable with my feelings so I can move on. I decided to set myself a goal afterwards, I want to tell Betty before my next session, a week from today. I can’t hide it from her for too long anyway, we live together after all, and she’s already convinced there’s something more than just allergies going on. I debate even telling her when I get home, but Peter and Ned are in the living room, and I’m still not sure I’m ready.

“Hey,” Peter smiles to me as I walk in, “How was work?” “Fine. I didn’t realize you guys were coming over.”

“Oh yeah, we’re going to the movies. You should come, MJ is gonna meet us there.”

Dr. Morrison said separation is good, and I don’t really want to be their fifth wheel anyway.

“I think I’ll stay home,” I clutch my purse nervously, “Thanks for offering though.”

His lips pulled to a slight frown, “You sure? MJ picked some weird art film, it’d be more fun if you came.”

“Yeah, work was actually pretty tiring and I still have a bit of homework…”

“Okay,” his cheeks just barely dust pink, “Next time then?”

I nod, “Of course, you guys have fun,” I scurried to my room as quick as I could.

I don’t know what exactly made me start crying, I mean I’ve cried every night this week so maybe it’s just the overwhelming feelings again, but I think it was Peter. I don’t want to have to pull away from my best friend, I just wish I loved him the way I was supposed to. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, it just makes me feel gross.

I end up hiding out until they leave, then I return to the kitchen for some hot cocoa and comfort food. I calm down a bit, but I’m still a little teary eyed when I pass out on the couch. I don’t know how long I get to sleep for, but what ends up waking me up is the front door opening. I peer through groggy sleepy eyes, expecting to find Betty, ready to scold me for not going to bed.

What I didn’t expect was Peter.

He bent down beside me and set a hand on my cheek, “Wake up sleepy head, I know this couch isn’t that comfortable.”

“Hey,” I yawn before rolling onto my back, I push my arms up in an attempt to push the sleepiness out of my body, “Where is everyone?”

“Betty is back at mine and Ned’s, I came by just to talk to you, but it can wait,” he smiles and offers me a hand, “Come on bunny, I’ll take you to bed.”

I shake my head, “I’m up, what did you want to talk about?”

He blushes, “Let me help you to bed first.”

“I’m a big girl Peter, I can put myself to bed. What’s on your mind?”

He sits besides me with a sigh, “It wanted to make sure you’re okay, you’ve just seemed a little off this week.”

“It’s just allergies P, I’ll feel better in no time.”

“I don’t think so,” he frowns, “I don’t think allergies forget how to talk to your best friend.”

“I didn't, I just don’t feel very good.”

“Are you sure? You know you can tell me if you’re upset with me or something…”

I laugh, “Peter why would I be upset with you?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just seemed off every time I’ve seen you this week.”

“Well it’s not you Peter, I just don’t feel very good. If I were upset with you I would just tell you.”

“Okay,” he accepts my answer though he doesn’t seem totally satisfied by it. Who am I kidding? It’s Peter, he always knows when something’s up. “You know I’m always here for you right?”

I nod, “I’m here for you too Peter.”

He wraps an arm around my neck and kisses the top of my head, “We could hang out for a little while, play some games or something.”

“I’m still pretty tired, I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” I blush as I stand, “Maybe some other time.”

His smile falls but he nods, “Okay, but it has to be soon. I miss hanging out.”

“Soon,” I agree, “I miss it too.”

He stands and pulls me into a hug, placing another kiss on the top of my head, “I’m sorry about whatever’s going on, you know I love you tons.”

It takes every ounce of my willpower not to burst into tears, to not break down and just tell him the truth. I can’t though, I know I can’t. It’s not his fault he doesn’t love me the way that would fix everything, he loves someone else and I want that for him, even if it makes me jealous, even if it kills me. I just want Peter to be happy.

“I love you too.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

This morning Betty nearly caught me tossing a petal out the window, making it very clear that I’ll have to tell her soon. I’d much rather tell her than have her just find out, I just don’t know how. I think I should just sit her down and tell her, but I just want to sugar coat it somehow, make it seem better than it is. I’m trying to figure out some way to do that when I get called up to the pharmacy counter. I barely even realize I know the girl behind the counter this time. Adeline, MJ’s roommate.

“Oh hey,” she smiles to me, “Are you okay with me filling your prescription? I can totally grab someone else.”

I know she’ll know if I let her fill the prescription, it’s a little scary, but there’s enough separation between us that it feels okay, like a warm up.

“I don’t mind,” I smile back, “Just don’t tell everyone about the pills I’m popping.”

She laughs, “I’ll keep it to myself,” she turns to her computer, typing away before squinting at the screen, then it seems to hit her, “(y/n)...” she turns to me with a frown, “Do you?...”

I nod, “Yeah, but like I said, don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course,” she pursed her lips, “I’ll be right back.”

It was worse than I thought, Adeline and I aren’t super close, we get along, but we never hang out outside of group get togethers or parties. I didn’t expect her to look so upset or concerned, I thought she’d just tell me she was sorry, that she hoped I got better. It makes me scared of how everyone else is going to react.

“Here you go,” she frowned as she passed the little white bag to me, “You haven’t told anyone?”

I shake my head, “Not yet.”

“Really? Not even Betty, o-or Peter?”

“No one, I’m going to, just kind of figuring out how.”

She nods, “Yeah, I can’t imagine. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m gonna get better, it’s just a little scary for now.”

“Of course,” she smiles, but it’s one of those sad smiles I have a hard time looking at, “I, um, if there’s anything I can do just let me know. I could help you tell everyone,” she blushed suddenly, “When you’re ready of course. Just, uh, maybe it’d be easier to get it out of the way all at once you know?”

“Thank you.” It’s not a bad idea actually, maybe it would be easier than telling everyone individually. Then I just have to explain it once and answer all the questions once. I don’t have to answer all the questions over and over. It might balance out the reactions too. “That might be nicer actually, and you could probably help explain the medical stuff a bit more.”

She nodded, “Yeah, definitely, I mean do it however you need to, but if I can help in any way just let me know.”

“Thanks Adeline, I’ll think about it,” I give her an awkward little wave as I walk away.

I start making a pros and cons list in mind, weighing both of my options to try and figure out the best way to go about this, of course my thoughts are then interrupted by a phone call. Peter.

He’s been trying to get together, and this time I really have been avoiding him, following the advice of my therapist. I don’t know if it’s helping, I think about him just as much, the thoughts are just sadder now, but it’s what I have to do. My therapist knows how to get me better, and I have to get better or I’ll never get to see him, or anyone. It would be so much easier if I could just tell him that, I hate lying to him.

“Hello?”

“Hey bunny,” he sounds chipper as ever, “How are you?”

“Good, how are you?”

“Well I’m okay right now, but I would be a thousand times better if you came over and helped me study?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” I glance around me, trying to think of something, “I have to go grocery shopping.”

“How about I come help you then?”

“I thought you needed to study?”

“I do but,” he pauses for a minute, “I know you said you aren’t avoiding me, but you know it went from not talking as much to suddenly we haven’t even seen each other in days.”

“Well why do we need to hang out all the time anyway? Just go hang out with MJ.”

I don’t mean to sound as angry as I do, I’m just so frustrated. It’s not easy keeping this all to myself.

He stays quiet and then sighs. “You’ve been acting weird since you went to the doctor, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. I’m worried about you.”

“Nothing’s going on Peter,” I frown and wrap an arm around myself, “I’m just busy today alright?”

“You’re busy everyday.”

“I’m not, I’m just busy right now…” I sigh and hang up, I just don’t really know what to say to him.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

After my awkward phone call with Peter I decided it would be best for me to tell everyone at once. I just need to get it out of the way, rip the bandaid off. So I texted Adeline, and she proposed that she and MJ would have everyone at their place to hang out today. She said it was gonna just be dinner and some party games, and everyone agreed to go. I told Betty and Ned I’d meet them there so I’d have a bit of alone time to get ready. I wanted just a bit alone just to prepare what I’m going to say and everything, I want this to go well. I want to walk into therapy tomorrow and tell her all about how I told my friends and I have this amazing support system.

A coughing fit interrupts my attempt to hype myself up in the mirror, it’s much more violent than they have been. The petals tickle a bit, and there’s usually a bit of blood, but it’s never like this. As a bit of blood splatters in the sink I hear what I assume is Betty coming back to retrieve some forgotten item. I kick the bathroom door closed and hope she just ignores me. Instead the door almost instantly starts creaking open.

“I’m fine!” I lean over the sink, trying to cover it with my hair, “Just give me a second!” I choke on my words.

The hand that’s set on my back is distinctly not Betty’s, “Jesus Christ are yo-” Peter stops mid sentence, just as the full flower falls out of my mouth, followed by a streak of blood. The full ones are much harder to cough up than the petals.

“I’m fine,” I quickly try to think of someway to explain this, “That was just in my hai-”

He seizes my wrist as I attempt to turn on the sink and wash away the evidence, “Did you cough up that flower?”

I flush, “Did you break into my house?”

“Betty gave me her keys so I could pick you up and figure out why you’ve been avoiding me! Now tell me what the hell is going on!” he demanded in the most concerned, Peter-like way he possibly could.

I take a deep breath, glancing at the mess in the sink before I finally answer, “I have Hanahaki’s disease.”

His eyes dart between me and the sink, seeming to debate his next words carefully, “How long have you known?”

“About two weeks.”

“Were you even going to tell me?”

I nodded, “I was going to tell everyone tonight.”

He dropped my wrist and pushed a hand through his hair, I couldn’t even look him in the eyes, “W-Well it’s not that bad right? I mean there’s surgery, a-and I’m sure if you just talk to him he probably feels the same way.”

“He’s with someone else Peter, he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t also love you.” When I finally did meet his eyes they were glossy, and his cheeks were red.

“He doesn’t Peter, I just have to move on.”

“I’m sure he does, just tell me who and we ca-”

“I’m not telling you who he is. This isn’t his fault and I don’t want anyone to blame him or make him feel bad about it.”

“It is his fault!” he snapped before sighing, “Okay fine, you don’t want to talk to him, but there’s still surgery right? I know surgery is scary but this one’s pretty safe isn’t it?”

I nod, “It is, but there’s the risk of me not being able to love anyone again, so I’m not getting the surgery.”

“What?”

“I’m not getting the surgery, I’m just going to have to move on.”

“Okay but if that doesn’t work you’re going to get the surgery right?”

My cheeks dust pink as I shake my head, “No.”

His jaw is locked, his whole body tense, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry. “You have to get it.”

“I’m not getting the surgery Peter, but you don’t need to worry about me, I’m gonna move on and get better.”

“Are you kidding me?!” he snaps, “Telling me you’ll get better isn’t good enough! I understand if you want to try and move on first, but if that doesn’t work then you’re getting that surgery.”

“I’m not getting it at all Peter.”

“So you’re just going to die?!” his bottom lip started quivering, it startled me, I didn’t expect anyone to cry, “I’m not going to lose you just because some asshole doesn’t love you back! It’s not fair and I’m not letting it happen!”

“It’s not your choice Peter,” I hug myself because I have no idea what else to do, “Nothing is going to happen to me, I’ll be able to move on and I’ll be just fine. But, if for some reason that doesn’t happen, I really need you to respect my decision on this.”

A couple tears fell down his cheeks and he shook his head, “You cannot ask me to just sit back and watch you die.”

“I’m not, Peter I am going to be fine. I’m on medication that helps slow it down, and I’m seeing a therapist who specializes in Hanahaki’s, she’ll help me move on and I’ll be okay.”

“That isn’t good enough. There’s no guarantee you get better that way and that isn’t good enough for me.”

“I’m sorry Peter, but I can’t give you any other answers. I’m not getting the surgery, even if that kills me. I know that isn’t what you want to hear, and I’m so sorry, but that’s all I can give you.”

A few more tears escape and he pulls me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around his neck and went to my waist. We stay that way for a second, he rests his head atop mine while I wonder what to do. I don’t really know how to make him feel better, I don’t even know if I can.

Peter is the one to finally break the silence. “Who is he?”

“It’s not important Peter.” “Yes it is! You think he’s worth dying over!” his voice cracks and I pull away. It’s really hard to see him cry, and I can feel my own eyes starting to sting at the sight. “You won’t even reconsider it for your best friend so I wanna know what’s so fucking great about him.”

I start crying while I realize I can’t ever tell anyone it’s him. I can’t risk Peter finding out, I don’t ever want to put that on him. “It’s not about who he is Peter, I just don’t want to risk never falling in love with anyone ever again. I know some people are okay with that, but I’m not, love is important to me and I don’t think I’d ever be totally happy knowing I couldn’t have that. None of this is on him, he’s a really great guy, I love him a lot and I know you would to. I don’t want anyone to blame him or be upset with him or anything.”

“Well I hate him,” he snapped, “And it doesn’t matter what you say about him. My mind is made up and I think he’s a dick.”

“You can feel however you need Peter, but he’s a good person, the best I know,” I wiped his eyes, “Can you please keep this just between us for me? I really need to tell everyone on my own terms.”

“I won’t say anything,” he promised before pulling me to him again, “Do you think we could just ditch tonight? I really want to talk, just us, and I want to know what’s going on. I need to be able to help however I can.”

I nodded, “Yeah, I can make something up.”

He nuzzled his nose against the top of my head before pressing a kiss to the same spot, “Thank you.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I ended up texting Adeline, who assured me she’d cover for us so we didn’t have to stress out about it. Peter watched my every move while I washed the blood out of the sink and threw the flower out of my bedroom window. Luck for me, he didn’t notice what kind of flower it was, or at least he didn’t comment on it. Actually he just sat on the edge of my bed, honestly I think he was just too caught up in his own thoughts to actually process what was going on.

“So, did you have some questions?” I asked as I closed my window and took a seat besides him. He nodded, “Yeah, a few. Do you have some kind of timeline of how it’s going to progress?”

“Well the medicine I’m taking will slow everything down, right now it seems like mine is slow moving and my doctor thinks I’ll have a few months, but it’s really unpredictable. Things could get worse very quickly, but she said that’s pretty unlikely in my case. The coughing will get worse and there will be a lot more flowers and blood, but physically I’ll be pretty okay until the end. As for healing, I have until pretty much the last moments for my feelings to be reciprocated or to move on.”

“What about the surgery?”

“They’re able to perform it until the infection moves outside of my lungs. If I get to that point they’ll hospitalize me, but it won’t get to that point.”

“How long would you have if it did?”

“A few days max, I mean they’ll do everything they can to keep me going as long as possible, but there isn’t much they can do at that point.”

He clenched his hands and gave one stiff nod, “You said your therapist specializes in this?”

“Yeah, and she’s really great, she’s going to help me move on and sort out my feelings and all that. She does a lot of work with patients and their families, and she’s got a really good reputation. I really like her so far.”

“Do you think it’s helping so far?” “Well I’ve only gone once so far, but I feel like I can do this. You can look her up if you want, her name is Raina Morrison.”

“I will,” he assured before taking my hands in his, “Are you going to see her again soon?”

“Yeah, tomorrow actually. That’s why I wanted to tell everyone tonight.” He blushed, “I mean it’s still good you told someone right?”

I nodded, “I think so. It was just a little more overwhelming than I thought it would be.”

I’m a little nervous about seeing her now, I’m worried that telling Peter wasn’t good. She told me separation was a good thing, that it will help me move on, I’m worried I won’t be able to do that now. Peter’s really protective, he cares a lot about everyone, I really love that about him, and I don’t know if I have the heart to tell him that we can’t spend time together. I don’t even know what explanation to give him now.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have freaked out on you like that. I’m sure it’s not good for you.”

“It’s okay, having you guys know will be better for me, I need to have my friends support in this, it’ll make everything easier.”

“Maybe we can just love you enough that he won’t matter anymore,” the smile he gives is weak and forced, he still looks like he might cry again.

I don’t know what to say to make him feel better. I know he loves me plenty, it’s just not the right kind of love.

“Thank you Peter,” I just ended up hugging him again.

He held me tight against his chest, “If you wanted I could help you talk to everyone, even if you end up doing it one on one. Maybe it would be easier to have me there.”

“It’d be nice to have you there,” I pulled away to keep from crying again, “You, uh, you’ll get it now if I’m a little evasive right?”

A look of confusion overcame his face, “No. What reason could you possibly have to avoid me now?” his bottom lip started quivering again, “You might not… No, I won’t get it, we should be spending every second together that we can.”

“I need alone time to process my feelings, that’s how I’ll get better.”

“Then I won’t say anything!” his cheeks had flushed again in an instant, “I can sit there and be quiet and do nothing, but I need to be there for you. I need to spend as much time with you as I can…”

“Peter you don’t need to start savoring your time with me or make all these precious memories or anything like that. I’m gonna get better,” I squeezed his hands tight and smiled to him, “And it would help a lot if you believed that too, because right now it kind of seems like you’ve already decided I’m going to die.”

“I do believe that, I know you’ll get better,” he sighed, “B-But what if something happens? What if you’re all alone and you just need someone? I should be here, I want to be here.”

How was I ever supposed to argue with that? I can’t tell him he can’t be here for me, I don’t want to tell him he can’t.

“Maybe we should watch a movie or something before we start crying again?”

He nodded and cleared his throat, “Good idea. Maybe something funny?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

We threw on some supposedly funny movie, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I don’t know if Peter was, but he seemed out of it too. We just sort of stared at the screen until everyone came back to my place. I had to get up from where I was laying with Peter and pretend I had food poisoning as Adeline told them. Really I just wanted to go to bed, the day had been extremely draining.

“Hey guys,” I smiled at them, doing my best to look sickly.

Betty smiled sympathetically to me, “Hey, you feeling any better?”

I nod, “Yeah, I threw up a bit but I think I can just sleep it off. Don’t worry, Peter has babied me plenty.”

“Well between that and the cough I think you need a little babying,” she wiggled a small container at me, “I brought you left overs for when you feel better.”

“I brought some for you too,” MJ added, flashing Peter a smile, “There in the car.”

“Thanks,” his cheeks dusted pink and I just prayed he wouldn’t give anything away, “I think I’m gonna stay with (y/n) tonight though, just in case she gets worse.”

“I’m sure she’s had enough of you hovering for one night Peter,” her smile dropped almost instantly, “I thought we were hanging out.”

I wonder if they’ve been fighting or something. A wave of guilt washes over me for avoiding Peter, for not asking if there was something he needed to talk about too.

“We were together last night,” he frowned at her, “You know (y/n) and I haven’t hung out in awhile, and she’s sick, I should stay with her.”

“You two hung out all night and I’m sure her best friend and roommate is more than capable of making sure she doesn’t die in the middle of the night.”

Peter’s jaw clenches and I interject in the fear they may start arguing if I don’t, “Yeah, I mean thank you for taking care of me, but I’ll be fine. I’m probably just going to go to bed anyway, you should go hang out with MJ.”

His cheeks dusted pink and he nodded, “O-Okay, just as long as you're good…”

“I’m good,” I assured, “It’s been a long night, I really just want to get some sleep.”

MJ smiled, “See? You’re driving her crazy, just let the girl get some sleep.”

“I’m just taking care of her,” he snapped.

We were all quiet, Peter and MJ are always so mellow. I mean they act like they’ve been married for forty years, they don’t really fight. As long as I’ve known them they’ve just been…

Stagnant I guess.

“Well she just said she doesn’t need to be taken care of so no need to smother her, right (y/n)?”

I just nod, “Yeah, I’m good. Peter go hang out with girlfriend, I don’t need to be babysat.”

He frowned, a small huff left his lips before he nodded, “Sure, whatever, let’s just go,” he gave me an awkward sort of side hug and called, “Text me!” before leaving with MJ, both seeming annoyed with the other.

Part 2

188 notes · View notes

ladyramora · 3 years ago

Text

NSFW PMP (Porn Minus Plot) Commission

Emet x Cerise (WoL, female miqo'te)

Established Relationship.

WoL (Cerise) x Emet PMinusPlot (Something like Somnophilia)

Cerise belongs to @hlkproductions

NSFW Warnings: Somnophilia (ish), Mild Dub Con (ish. There is no explicitly spoken consent), Nipple Play, Biting, Panty Sniffing & Licking, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Cunninlingus, Vaginal Penetration, Size Difference, Garlean Dongs, Cursing, Rough sex. Emet Selch Snark & Angst.

.....

....

...

Cerise's feline ears twitch as Emet Selch enters her room without so much as knocking. Well, of course he wouldn't. He'd spent a lifetime as Solus zos Galvus before faking his death. An emperor would have no need for knocking. Every door should simply be open for him, a welcoming carpet rolled out under his feet with flower petals scattered before every footfall.

"Well, well, are we having a bit of a nap, hero?"

She does not bother lifting her head to answer or greet him, or even open her eyes to look at him. He'd had plenty of uninterrupted naps while Cerise and her family — the Scions— had labored on to do what they must for their time here on the first. Cerise was tired. She was tired and she just wanted to take a nap because gods knew when she'd have another chance to rest again with all she seemed to have to do here. It was a never ending flurry of activity, one thing after another after another asked of her, and of course Cerise could not turn down those in need.

So, napping. Cerise rolled over and buried her face in her pillow, resolved to ignore him and get some actual sleep. She'd been through more than enough as late, and as much as she enjoyed listening to what Emet Selch had to say, Cerise was bloody exhausted. Her eyes stay closed, ears barely twitching with the near silent sound of Emet Selch's sauntering footsteps. Her chest rises and falls, calm and slow. Her breath only hitching slightly as Emet Selch's shadow blocked out the light, his body displacing the air as he leaned close and skimmed his gloved hand over her exposed leg that peeked out from her blankets. It was a curious sensation, the textured feel of his glove as it passed over her in his first caress from her hip, over her outer thigh, to her knee.

Cerise lay there, her sleepiness stubbornly lingering as Emet Selch stroked over her sienna skin, one pass after another. The Ascian so brazenly bothering her while she was trying to rest with what seemed to be the same sort of impulse as one would have to pet an adorable sleeping housecat.

His gloved hand trailed over her knee, his middle and pointer fingers tickling at her as they glided over her shin. He hummed, palming at her calf as his hand trailed down to circle her ankle.

"Hmm? Nothing, no reaction? Still asleep, are you?" Emet Selch asks, or simply teases, squeezing her ankle with just a hint of pressure. There was something about the cadence of his voice that tickled the sensitive insides of her ears. It almost made her fur stand on end with the need to shiver. Did he know she was awake? Well, she wouldn't be if he would stop touching her.

"Oh, dear.. Where are those heroic instincts of yours now? Why, you're positively defenseless…" Emet Selch very nearly coos, almost saccharine sweet, if not for a hint of something dark lurking behind it. "What if some dastardly villain were to... take advantage?"

Cerise took a deeper breath at that. What? Take advantage? Her heart sped up a little, knowing there was danger here, but her curiosity softened the sharp edge of it. Wondering what he would do, how he might take advantage... So far, all he had done was touch her. If she were truly in danger, she knew how to defend herself. Besides, were they not still cooperating?

Cerise exhales softly, her chest rising and falling. Lying still in wait of what he might do next. The thought of her nap pushed to the back of her mind with this new interest in what the Ascian in her room might do.

Emet Selch chuckles, low and off beat as he traces his gloved pointer finger over a scar on her leg. The fabric of her blanket bunching up as his hand slipped up over her hip. It does not conceal her from him for anything more than a few more moments as the Ascian pinched the bedding between his fingers and drew it away from her body to pool at the end of the bed.

Cerise's eyelashes twitch, her nose scrunching as the cool air rushed over her exposed skin. She had dressed comfortably, only in a top and bottoms that did not cover much more than your average smallclothes. Cerise makes a small noise in her throat, rolling slightly to a more comfortable position, keeping her eyes closed still as she sighed and again settled as if she had only moved in her sleep.

Well. What would he do next?

The bed dips with added weight, and Cerise has the idea that he means to join her in her nap, but Emet Selch only sat next to her and continued to touch her. His hand trailing over her, lazy and exploratory. Surprising her as he petted over her hair, that shock of lime green contrasting with rich black. He chuckled to himself, low and off-beat as he traced along her twitching ears, across her forehead, her eyebrows and nose. And then along her markings, too, that stood out darker than her skin and curved under her eyes, bringing focus to her fierce golden gaze when her eyes were open.

Cerise almost gave herself away by nearly nuzzling into his palm as his gloved hand caressed her face and cupped her cheek because it felt nice. A tingle spread through her as his fingertip dragged over her top and then bottom lip, tracing over and around them slowly and lingeringly before eventually moving on.

It feels too good, the caress of his hand as it stroked over her skin. Relaxing her instead of taking advantage. So nice is it, that Cerise did not realize she had again dozed off until she stirs again with Emet's grasp on her limp hand, her eyes fluttering slightly open to witness the Ascian pressing her hand to his cheek and nuzzling into it as he presses his mouth to her wrist. His hand was bare now — one of them, at least — when had that happened? It occurred to her that she'd never seen his bare hands before. His fingers were long, his nails perfectly manicured and painted deep red that was almost black.

Cerise could not withhold her body's natural reaction to shiver as Emet Selch trails his lips up over the inside of her arm from her wrist. His lips pressing to the meat of her shoulder, wet where they were parted, almost as if he were tempted to bite her. 'Twas best that he did not, as Cerise was still in this relaxed state between sleep and wakefulness, easily able to slip back under. If Emet disrupted that by biting her, Cerise would surely kick him out.

He does not, merely dragging his lips over her skin. So soft and tender the feeling that the miqo'te feels her eyes grow heavy again. She slips back into sleep.

….

She wakes to a tugging feeling on her chest, her eyes opening before her brain caught up.

Emet Selch stares back at her, the intensity of his stare stilling the breath in her lungs, silencing her voice before she could ask him just what did he think he was doing? Sure, they'd made out a few times by now in darkened corners away from prying eyes, and Cerise had let him cop a feel or twelve, but they hadn't gotten so far as stripping one another of clothes just yet and taking that final plunge, as it were.

"Awake again, my dear? Did you think me fooled? I have lived a thousand of your lifetimes, and bedded so many a woman just like you. Your body gives you away… Tensing when you wake, or becoming so relaxed and… pliant when you are asleep." The Ascian murmurs, his lips curling wickedly. "Did you drift off from mine attentions? How very… trusting. Am I not still your enemy, my dear? Have I endeared myself to you already, so soon that you would let me do whatever I like to you as you lay here so vulnerable?"

Cerise contemplates kicking him out here and now. He was being weird, and looking down on her, it seemed. Cerise very much doubted there were so many women just like her. Everyone was different, and Cerise had done things not every woman could do. Did he not know, or simply not care? Who knew, the man was so bloody old.

Why did she like him?

Oh, right. He was fascinating and he knew so much and he was so forthcoming about information that she asked of him. That, and he was stupidly attractive in a strange way that seemed to suit her taste. Perpetually exhausted, with tired eyes that had seen too much and found it all wanting, and an oft frowning mouth that hid a too sharp tongue.

Instead of deciding on kicking him out or letting him stay, she finds herself distracted by how thick and pretty his eyelashes are. The dark fan of them slightly obscuring the weight of his heart-quickening stare as he glanced down to where his fingers worked.

Cerise follows his gaze and stares, her breath hitching for a moment watching Emet Selch pluck at the satin bow that held her top closed. She was rapt as his fingers worked, slowly pulling at the ties to her shirt, unraveling the bow she had tied, and parting fabric to bare her bra-clad breasts to the air and his heavy gaze. Cerise swallowed, breathing shallowly. Watching the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, watching his hands as he brushed fabric aside and tugged her cute, soft bralette down without much fussing with it, and paused. As if he were admiring her, or considering his next course of action.

Ohh.

The pad of his thumbs rubbed at her nipples, the soft flesh already stiffened from being exposed to the cool air of the room. A small sound leaving her as he cups her breasts in his surprisingly hot hands. Her back instinctively arching, thrusting her chest out into his kneading touch. Cerise hears him chuckle again to himself and feels a flush of heat rise in her face, and answering ache stirring in her lower belly.

Another louder sound leaves her lips as his fingers quite suddenly pinched, then plucked at her nipples. Her tail flicked against the bed, her ears twitching to catch his every sound.

Cerise dug her teeth into her lip as he leaned — or perhaps, loomed— over her prone form, slowly lowering himself down to rest against her, atop her. His lips coming to rest against her soft skin. It made her shiver, her skin prickling with hair-raising bumps. Soothed away by the passing caress of his one, still gloved hand.

He is not merely grazing his lips over her skin now, but full-on kissing at her. Frustratingly enough starting from her abdomen and skipping over her chest entirely for the moment. Though as he kissed over her belly his tongue dipped into her navel, making Cerise squirm with her tail flopping against the bed.

He kisses from her hips, over her belly to her ribcage. His lips trailing up from kissing one scar that curved over her ribs, to dragging across the soft swell of her breasts. His nose, his cheek, his entire face rubbing, nuzzling against her soft, warm flesh. His lips parted, the moist puff of his breath ghosting over her skin as he wrapped those ever teasing, smirking lips around her nipple. His teeth grazing her flesh as he opened his mouth wider to suck at her breast. Twisting and plucking at the nipple he was not currently suckling on with cruel, clever fingers.

Cerise moans, clawing her fingers through his hair as she arches her back and pushes her chest up into his sucking mouth. The laugh she feels rumbling against her hardly bothering her as Emet Selch licked and sucked and bit at her chest, all the while pinching and plucking at her nipples. It made her ache. Everything his mouth did to her, every motion of those cruel fingers used against her. It was a direct line from her breasts to her clit, every pinch and pluck and twist of his fingers, every lick and suck and scrape of his teeth made her wet, made her throb with the pounding of her heart.

Though he had undone her shirt, he did not yet rearrange her bottoms. Instead he settled between her thighs and rested his face on her hip. Stroking his fingers over the scrap of fabric that was her smalls, rubbing her through the fabric until he could feel her heat and wetness dampening it, seeping through to meet his wicked fingers. Then, he buried his face in that wet spot, breathing her in with great, big greedy inhales. His shaky, perverted breath makes her feel strange, somewhat repulsed by the perversion of it, but at the same time attracted. Intrigued. Her body certainly reacts to it, pulsing heatedly to soak the fabric more and Emet Selch licks at it, his lips closing around the soaked fabric and her heated flesh underneath, and sucking.

With that, Cerise could no longer lie still.

Her hands grasp at his hair, her mouth falling open in a gasp, her voice spilling out in an encouraging moan as he tongues her with feeling through her panties. Working her into a frenzy so quick that Cerise hadn't even realized she'd caught his head between her thighs and buried her hands in his hair until he was pushing her legs back open with his own considerable strength and yanking her panties down over her hips and thighs to be tossed aside.

He buries his face in her pubic hair without preamble, breathing her in the same as he had done with her panties barring the way. His tongue licking her clean of the taste of musk, her sweat and arousal. His nose grinding against her clit as he sucked her soft, dewy folds into his mouth, thrusting his tongue between to dip into her warm, wet heat with such hunger.

The tip of his nose felt cold where it ground against the heated flesh of her pulsing clit, his tongue warm as he lapped at her ravenously, slurping and sucking her up as if she were the juiciest of fruits and he did not want to waste a bit of her nectar dripping down his chin. Cerise pushes his head against her, her sleep hoarse voice nearly tearing out of her throat in a yowl of pleasure, bucking her hips up to grind against his face with every zigzagging, swirling swipe of his tongue, every thrust of it inside of her as if he were fucking her with it as he would his cock.

Gods, Cerise had just wanted a nice, long nap. And here she was now getting eaten out by the former Emperor of Garlemald after being pawed at for nigh an hour by this perverted ancient-level old man. And, Twelve, was it downright unfair how good he was at it.

He left no part of her pussy untouched, untended to. He sucked at her folds, licked her inside and out with so many different, pleasurable tricks with his tongue that Cerise could hardly keep track of them all. She was putty in his hands.

Her thighs closed around his ears as he licked and sucked and hummed around her clit. The miqo'te rocking into his face as her pussy clenched and pulsed around his tongue, her mouth falling open in a breathless, gasping groan as she came.

Cerise flopped back onto the bed, her pleasure lingering in orgasmic bliss. Her body trembling still as she rode out the high.

Emet Selch smirked down at her so very smugly once she was able to focus again, making absolutely certain he had her full attention as he raised his middle finger of his still gloved hand to his mouth and pulled the white accessory off with his teeth.

Why was that so sexy?

He slicks his fingers through her wetness, massaging at her folds and rubbing between them without yet slipping inside. Rubbing at her still sensitive clit and laughing at Cerise as she hissed and jerked. He doesn't let up, continuing to tease her until Cerise bucks her hips up and makes him stick his fingers inside of her.

And, ohh, his touch felt much different than when she did this herself. He knew just exactly where to touch her, his fingers sinking inside of her with such infuriating confidence as he rubbed at her soft and so very slick insides. His fingers curling and pressing against spots inside that made Cerise writhe and buck underneath him, clawing at his back as she cried out, still so sensitive from only just finding release. He obviously means to make her do so again by using that sensitivity, and quickly, as his thumb rubs expertly at her clit with just a hint of his nail digging into her. A pulse of pain that made the pleasure all the hotter. Cerise felt aflame, out of control as Emet Selch worked her over without mercy with his fingers thrusting inside her, burying his face in her chest as he bit at her breasts and sucked hard at her nipples. His unoccupied hand groping at her chest possessively, squeezing and kneading her breasts as he slurped at her. His fingers curling and rubbing with intent at her soft, slippery walls. Pressing against a spot inside of her that made her whole body jerk, and then forcing a cry from her throat as he milked that spot for all it was worth.

Cerise writhes, choking on words — cursing him and pleading and wanting and then cursing him again—cums so hard that she well and truly passes out.

…..

Cerise snaps awake to the feeling of him looming over her, rubbing against her between her thighs. The tip of his dick sliding slick through the part of her folds. "What do you think you're doing?" She hisses at him, her ears laying flat.

"Is it not obvious, my dear?" He asks with a sardonic smile. "I am merely continuing where we left off before you so rudely fell asleep in the middle of our lovemaking."

Lovemaking? Ha! Utterly ridiculous. It had only been Emet Selch being impatient and "taking advantage". He was only fortunate that Cerise had let him, else he'd be dealing with the consequences of his actions right about now instead of trying to get his rocks off by shoving his — um, what the Garlean hugeness? — cock inside of her.

What in the seven hells was he trying to fit into her?

Cerise bares her teeth in snarl, kicking her legs out at his hips like a feral cat trying to disembowel prey. It would work better if she had clawed feet. Still, Emet grunts as she kicks him, grabbing for her ankles and forcing her legs further open as he leans over her. Cerise growls, slapping at him more than once with both hands with enough force to redden his cheek, but Emet only smirks at her in that infuriatingly smug manner and grasps her jaw hard to kiss her forcefully. Cerise shoves at his face with her hands, but it is half-hearted. She does bite at his lower lip, digging her teeth into the soft flesh. But Emet only moans, forcing her mouth open with his thumb to accept the thrust of his tongue. She can still taste herself lingering in his mouth as he licks at her, tangling her tongue with his, sucking on her tongue. Continuing to rock himself against her all the while.

Cerise tears her mouth away from his before her resolve weakens, biting at his jaw and down his throat. Irritated that he was still wearing all these layers when Cerise had been stripped bare for him to grope all over. She rakes her fingers down his chest to the gap in his coat, and then tears open the crisp, white shift there underneath his coat to bare his chest to her. Emet grunting out and glancing down at her as Cerise leans up and bites into his chest, marking up his pale skin.

"What are you doing?" Emet asks her, seeming a little annoyed that Cerise had ripped his clothing when he had taken the time to undress her nicely.

"Biting your tits," Cerise replies, sucking his nipple into her mouth and biting at it.

Emet hisses. "Trying to distract me, my dear?"

Cerise pulls back, licking her lips and admiring the bite marks she had made. "Why, is it distracting you?"

Emet laughs, then groans as she grants his other nipple the same treatment. "Hmm, perhaps a little. But not enough, my dear." With his hand wrapped around his cock, he presses the tip against her, nudging between her folds. It feels far too big to fit, but somehow with the roll of his hips and how wet she is, the tip pops inside of her.

Cerise, with a mouthful of Emet's tit, bites him hard. Emet jerks, the motion thrusting his hips into her. Cerise curses, her head flying back as she moans. Gods, he was huge. She felt split open, her walls twitching around the girth of him as he stilled inside of her, his hands braced on either side of her. His hair falling into his eyes as he gasped, a bead of sweat curving down his jaw.

"By Zodiark, you are…" the Ascian starts to say, but leaves his sentence unfinished.

Cerise slaps at him, hissing, but she does not know whether she wants to shove him off or pull him closer until he starts to move his hips. Sinking himself deeper inside of her in slow increments that drove her near mad. Cerise feels stuffed full already, but apparently Emet liked to push her, to see how much she could take and endure. A lot, it seemed. Still Cerise claws down his chest, squirming underneath him as their hips finally meet. Somehow he had stuffed it all inside.

"Now now, my dear," Emet looks down at her with a far too lascivious gaze that has Cerise pinning her ears back and heat filling her face. "That is no way to treat your lover."

She wants to slap that smug look right off his face. Emet, seeming tired of being slapped in the face, catches her wrist before she can hit him again. And then the other as she tries to hit him with her other hand.

"Ah, ah, ah," the Ascian tuts at her like a naughty child. Had he not held her hands he might have wagged his finger at her. "No hitting, my dear. Unless you wish to be tied up." A certain gleam comes to his eyes. "Or do you, hmm? You do not seem to mind being at my mercy…" He laughs, off beat as Cerise shook her head and blushed to her ears. The Ascian surely delighted in further flustering her.

"No more distractions now," Emet tells her, and Cerise has a snide retort on the tip of her tongue when he well and truly started to thrust.

Ffffuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Cerise strained against his grip, writhing underneath him, her mouth falling open as she panted. Strong moans pulled from her belly as he established a rhythm, not too slow or too fast, but just right. Taking his time with her, but not teasing her as she had expected he might.

Oh, but he treated her not as a shrinking violet or a delicate damsel, but as a warrior underneath him as he fucked her deep. Despite his almost lanky frame, there was power behind the thrust of his hips. Enough that she could feel the bed underneath them, sturdy as it was, rock under the force.

His hold on her hands loosened only to grasp at her hips, pulling her into his thrusts, plunging deep and spreading her wide with the girth of him. Cerise wraps her legs around his lean hips, clinging to him as her fingernails claw down his back. Choked, breathy little sounds spilling from her panting mouth with every thrust of his hips into her.

For all his bravado, Cerise watches his expression with rapt attention as his jaw flexed with his grinding teeth, his eyebrows furrowed and face steadily flushing as a sheen of sweat gleamed on his forehead. He was not unaffected. How long had it been for him? Longer than it had for her, mayhap, but he had been an Emperor. If he had so desired, he could have had whatever, and whoever he wanted whenever.

"You.. are distracted," Emet Selch mutters with irritation, his own breathing a little labored for all the work he was putting in. It was quite surprising, honestly. Cerise had pictured it going differently for how much energy the Ascian cared to expend. He was constantly napping. Cerise only saw him energetic when he was mocking the Scions, or pawing at her while sticking his tongue down her throat. "Tell me, what are you thinking of that is so important to distract you from this?" He punctuated his sentence by a forceful grind of his hips into her, a wicked smirk curling his lips as she gasped and dug her nails and her heels into his back as she clenched around him. "Oh my, what a lewd creature you are. You're sucking me in so hungrily… Well, what is it, my dear? I'll give you nothing more until you answer me."

Cerise growls at him. Unhappy about being denied now that she was feeling it. "You, you fool. I was thinking about you!"

Emet Selch's forehead wrinkles with his arching eyebrows. "Ohh? And what about me, hmm?"

Cerise could tell by the smug look on his face that he thought it was something perverted, or flattering, or perversely flattering.

"I was just thinking, you being an Emperor and as old as you are, you must have had a lot of bed partners..."

Emet Selch cocks his head to the side, peering down at her incredulously. "Are you meaning to imply, my dear, that I am… wanton? Promiscuous? Licentious?" Every word sounds more and more insulted.

Cerise blinks at him, her smile kittenish. "I said nothing of the sort. Mayhap you think yourself so?"

Emet Selch narrows his eyes at her. Hissing, "You know nothing. Nothing of the true world," before pouncing atop her, and making Cerise yelp and mewl out in a surge of desire as he resumed their passion, this time harder and faster with tautness to his muscles that spoke of restrained anger. Every word punctuated with a jerk of his hips into hers. "We had family, loves, partners! All who lived as long as I. Yet I have been forced to adapt to this shattered, sundered world, this husk of what once was… Your lifespans are so very short, naught but a blink, a drop in the ocean! Do you think we Ascians do not want? Do not desire, nor lust? We have needs just as you do. We feel far more."

Cerise groans, tired of hearing him go on and on about it, and surges upwards to grasp his face as kiss that sneering mouth of his if only to shut him up. He kisses her harshly, biting at her lips, sucking hard at her tongue. Their teeth clacking more than once as he snarls and snaps his hips into her with a brutal pace.

Cerise moans into his mouth, jerking as he thumbs none-too-gently at her clit and squeezes almost bruisingly at her chest, twisting and pulling at her nipples. Working her higher and higher with all that he did until Cerise was shaking, gasping, trembling.

Emet Selch bites at her neck, growling in his throat as Cerise's fingernails claw down his back and then grasp at his bottom, squeezing as forcefully as he had done to her chest.

"Is.. that… all you got?" Cerise pants and purrs, her smile toothy. Goading him on.

Emet hisses through his teeth at her, "You.. little…!" His piercing gaze searing into her before his glyph flared up in front of his face, glowing red.

Quite suddenly it feels like he is touching her everywhere, all her sensitive spots at once, though his hands do not move. Cerise writhes under him, gasping and moaning and clinging to him. Holy shite, what the fuck?

Emet Selch holds still, glaring down at her with a wicked grin curling his lips as she ground herself against the feel of him inside of her and tipped over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm that never seemed to end. It went on, and on, and on. Or perhaps Cerise just kept cumming, several orgasms stacked on top of each other, one after another.

She comes to a point where she cannot take anymore. She is far too sensitive, sexed out, and so she braces her feet at his hips and shoves him off and out of her.

Emet Selch goes stumbling back, still keeping to his feet as his glyph vanishes. Scowling at first, but then laughing at her dazed, blissed out expression. The way she could not catch her breath, curling in on herself and shuddering.

"Bit off more than you can chew, did you?" The Ascian snarks, his anger seemingly vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. He is still hard as he grips himself in hand, stroking himself with their combined fluids. "Shall I give you something to suck on, instead?"

He stands near her face, rubbing the tip of himself over her bottom lip. Pushing against the seam of her mouth. Cerise huffs, indulges him in one kittenish lick of her tongue. The taste of him and herself settling headily on her tastebuds. Her eyes gleaming at the way he shudders, his mouth parting.

Then she rolls over, burrowing under her blankets. "Hhm. Thanks, but no thanks," she says, faking a yawn and smiling wide enough that her cheeks ached under the cover of blankets. "Can you get out? I was trying to nap before someone so rudely interrupted."

Emet Selch splutters a moment, before managing an incredulous, "...What?"

He stands there, shocked. Awaiting an answer.

Had the man never been denied before? Well, there was a first time for everything.

Cerise doesn't give him an answer.

That was what he got for looking down on her, everyone and everything she loved.

"Fine, if that is how you want this to be, you cruel thing," Emet grits out, and Cerise feels him loom over her. Her ears twitching with the slick, lewd sound as he fucks into his own hand. Her face and body heating hearing it, and then feeling the drops of his spend as he cums on her blankets. What a dick.

"Enjoy your nap, my dear," Emet Selch coos venomously, petting her hair and ears with the hand he has just touched himself with. Wiping the rest of it on her.

Cerise sits up in a huff, but the Ascian disappears in a puff of smokey darkness. His lingering laughter fading along with him.

Cerise touches her hair, curling her lips as it feels wet. Now she'd have to take a bath and get new bedding. That fucker.

Still, the satisfaction of denying him lingers, not overshadowed by that last bit of pettiness on his part. Making Cerise smile smugly to herself like the cat that got the cream.

It was a game of cat and mouse and, though Cerise was very much a feline, she was more than certain that Emet Selch fancied himself the cat.

He was wrong, of course.

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arofili · 4 years ago

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I love reading what you write! It's always such good, easy writing no matter what it's about! Do you have any Russingon fic recs? I'm new to Ao3 and still figuring it all out.

Aww thank you so much <3 <3 that means a lot! and YES I have lots of Russingon fic recs! These are all taken from my bookmarks and I know there are other great fics out there, but these are ones that I have saved and come back to frequently!

(I’m also going to plug my Russingon fics bc I write them a lot and I’m pretty proud of some of those works!)

Blessed Hands Will Break Me by @absynthe--minded - WIP currently at 139k, lots of worldbuilding, from Fingon’s discovery of Maedhros’ capture to the Mereth Aderthad - Absynthe is an amazing Russingon writer, absolutely check her stuff out!

“whoso list to hunt” by vauquelin (elftrash) - 3k oneshot, post-Angband, 1st person Fingon POV - another incredible writer

“Old Pains” by @zealouswerewolfcollector - ficlet, post-reembodiment, Maedhros is unsure of reality

Did My Heart Love Till Now? by @absynthe--minded (with art by @felixwhetsel !) - 5k, Years of the Trees, masquerade shenanigans <3

“stay thy mind, and all the rest” by @mc-dude - 25k oneshot, get together, Fingon visits Maedhros in Himring, the ANGST and LONGING gahhhh !!!

“commit (to the bit)” by vauquelin (elftrash) - 4k oneshot, Years of the Trees, FAKE DATING FOR WORLD PEACE, this author has a GIFT for prose and the subtlety of interpersonal interaction

“cliffs of fall” by @arrivisting - 3k oneshot, nonlinear narrative but generally focused on post-reembodiment reunion with Complicated Feelings - another author with a truly inspiring talent for prose, I reread the wedding scene in this fic at least once a week and it never fails to make me emo

In Equal Measure by @siphilemon - WIP currently at 108k, time-travel fix-it, bullet point fic, not just Russingon but they’re the ones who time traveled and anyway their parts make me go insane

Your colors by @elesianne - 2 chapters, 3k total, Years of the Trees and then Beleriand, gift-giving and anniversaries and dirty talk, so tender and loving, Elle’s Russingon always hits me right in the heart <3

“Like the old season” by Tyelperintal - 1.8k oneshot, post-Angband, Maedhros and Fingon take a walk in the woods, super sweet

“Gifts of the Heart” by @wren-of-the-woods - 10k oneshot, Years of the Trees, really lovely get-together fic, gift-giving, just super sweet and fun

Our Houses Bound Together by @senalishia and @z-h-i-e - 5 chapters, 17.2k total, arranged marriage AU!!, mutual pining, lots of drama, very fun

“just one safe place” by sunflower_diode - 2.1k oneshot, post-Angband, homoerotic haircutting

“All About Your Heart” and its sequel “At Last Broke Silence, And The Ice” by @admirablemonster - first fic is 2k, second is 8k, modern AU ft. aspec Fingon and genderfluid Maedhros!!!, get together, family drama, ice angst <3

Life after Death by Sylanna - WIP currently at 69k, Fingon-centric post-reembodiment fic, slow moving and contemplative, the author is truly the sweetest person ever

What Is Wrought Between Us by @nikosheba - 90k series (with plenty of smut too), complete, canon compliant, ranges from the Years of the Trees all the way to after the Dagor Dagorath, a truly incredible work

“Kindness” by justonelastdance - 1.6k oneshot, Maedhros in a fucked up mental state post-Angband, hurt/comfort - this author writes a lot of Maedhros whump so if you like this check out their other stuff too (this one is just my favorite)

and under the cut, some smut recs....

smut recs

In a Jeweled Crown by @absynthe--minded - 3 chapters, 12k, complete, Fingon’s coronation and the aftermath - this one still makes me go nuts every time I read it

Reconnecting by nyromes - a series with 2 parts, 9k total, first time post-Angband + first time Maedhros bottoms post-Angband

“Bright Defiance” (1.7k) and its companion fic “Very Good” (800 word ficlet) by @edgeoflight - two oneshots, Fingon coaxes Maedhros’ story out of him post-Angband + some PWP - these are some of my favorites, I come back to them frequently

“all your perfect imperfections” by @stormxpadme - 1.8k oneshot, stumpfucking, I’m biased bc this was written for me but I do love it very much, Himring era

“These Games We Play” by @edgeoflight - 1.7k oneshot, the original stumpfucking fic, Himring era

A Surprise At Home by Findecutie and MayGlenn - 25k of pwp, Years of the Trees, newlyweds, crossdressing - part of the much longer Russ and Finno Verse but this was my intro to that verse and it’s good on its own!

“Fuath” by yeaka - 3k oneshot, first time, some truly disturbing manipulation by Melkor but the Russingon here fucking destroys me ;-;

“Rozanne” by yeaka - 2.8k oneshot, Maedhros recovering from Angband, I once saw someone use the phrase “lovingly described blowjobs” and that’s basically this fic

“Sleeve” by yeaka - 2.4k oneshot, trans!Maedhros, Years of the Trees, Fëanor invents the condom for Maedhros and Russingon are incredibly eager to try it out, they’re SO IN LOVE here it gets me every time

Passion and Anxious Care by LiveOakWithMoss - 12.5k total, 2 fic series, modern AU, oh my god they were roommates, get together and then first time, this is another one I return to frequently - this author is/was a BNF a few years ago but hasn’t been active recently

“For nimble thought can jump both sea and land” by TheLionInMyBed - 2.2k oneshot, palantiri foolishness that leads to video sex basically, Beleriand era - another BNF who is/was buds with LiveOakWithMoss

Treat me soft but touch me cool by LiveOakWithMoss and TheLionInMyBed - 4 chapters, 18k total, swoon kink/medical kink, relationship difficulties that are resolved, Beleriand era with a final chapter post-reembodiment, love this one

“Enthroned” by @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe - 4.5k oneshot, throne sex, fealty kink, King Fingon era

“A Disgrace to the House of Finwë” by @edgeoflight - 2.3k oneshot, get together/first time, Years of the Trees, they’re just super sweet together <3

“What Happens in Himring” by teasoni - 3.4k oneshot, reunion sex, Himring era, fealty kink, this fic is tagged “finally some dicks get sucked!!!!!!” and I think about that tag every time I write a Russingon blowjob jdkfhdkj

“a light in darkness, hope in woe” by @admirablemonster - 4k oneshot, trans!Maedhros, surprise baby Gil-galad in the middle of the Bragollach

“A lord and his prince” by @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe - 3.1k oneshot, early Beleriand era, reunion sex, super sweet and fluffy

“Made of Lava” by @edgeoflight - 2.1k oneshot, Years of the Trees, tender get-together fic with a kind of silly premise

Bend, bruise, beg by LiveOakWithMoss - 5 chapters, 13k total, part of a larger modern AU but tbh I haven’t read the main fic in that verse and this absolutely stands on its own, Maedhros discovering his kinks, chapters 2 (first time) and 4 (butt plug shenanigans) are my favorites

“in a field of stars” by Nacht - 3.4k oneshot, Years of the Trees, first time/get together, the writing style here is really unique and sticks with me

“a sword once sheathed” by @mc-dude - 3.5k oneshot, Beleriand era, reunion sex, the amount of horny longing is truly astonishing

Of Flight and Freedom by @admirablemonster - 2 chapters, 6.6k total, wingfic/wing kink, first time/get together, the Rescue and its aftermath

“Thorns” by yeaka - 2k oneshot, post-Angband, Maedhros with lousy self-worth, Fingon who punishes him with love, bondage

The Ice Between by angrymermaids (who has a tumblr but I don’t remember the url oops) - 7 chapters, 33.5k total, Beleriand era, piecing their relationship back together / trying to get back to being intimate, focus on Fingon and his trauma from the Ice

“much too tall for a boyfriend” by @i-am-a-lonely-visitor - 4.7k oneshot, fem!Maedhros x budding-transmasc!Fingon, Years of the Trees, I think about this fic ALL THE TIME I kind of want to write a sequel to it sjfdhdkjh

“the beat of your heart as my hand touches your skin” by @admirablemonster - 5.3k oneshot, part of the Elves in Pon Farr series, Years of the Trees, heat fic/mating cycles, first time/get together, Maedhros’ first heat catches him by surprise while on a camping trip with Fingon, accidental soulbond

“Beneath the Blanketing White” by @nikosheba - 2.3k oneshot, Himring era, pwp, cameo from little Gil-galad at the end

“What I Am (When I’m With You)” by @thatfeanorian - 5k oneshot, part of a larger modern AU, married fluff, Fingon with baby Gil, ends with some lovely smut, this was written for me so AGAIN I’m biased but I do very much love this one

“open your body and soul to me” by @the-quiet-fire-of-defiance - 2.3k oneshot, Years of the Trees, trans!Maedhros, pregnancy, exhibitionism, sex toys, they’re so in love that it drives me crazy, I can’t stop thinking about this fic djfhkjd

“Like the Golden Fire in Your Eyes” by @sianascera - 3.8k oneshot, Years of the Trees, Maedhros invents nipple piercings, extremely fun <3

#anon #answers #russingon #fic recs #tefain nin #maedhros x fingon #there are truly some incredible writers in this fandom; thank you SO much for all your contributions <3 #save #russingon fic recs

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armysantiny · 4 years ago

Text

Reckless - DSC

Pairing: Sicheng (Winwin) x female reader || WayV

Genre: fluff, angst, comfort

Includes: motocross racer reader, tournaments, established relationship, crashes, head injury, broken arm, Mark mention, news headline, hospital visit, overnight stay, falling unconscious, concussion, Renjun mention, Donghyuck mention, Jeno mention, hot chocolate, eating breakfast together, teasing, domestic fluff

Word count: 3.31k

Warning: hospital, injury, concussion, broken arm

Rating: 12

Networks:@kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @kpopscape, @ultkpopnetwork, @kpopficsnetwork, @kpopcontentcreatorsclub, @k-dinernet, @lovesick-net, @whipped-kpop-creators, @prism-nw, @k-library, @neoswitchnet, @nct-writers, @nctcreations

Tagging: @teeztheflag, @intokook, @cherry-hyejin

Summary: : After ending her tournament on a high, y/n takes Sicheng to the practice track for a few spins on her bike. Opting to watch her instead, he warns y/n not to injure herself; she does need to rest after her race. Promising to try and be as careful as she can, y/n takes her bike on a few laps of the track. When she takes her eyes off the track for just a moment, she sends the bike and herself flying into the ground.

An: My first collab fic! (I’m kinda ehh about this tho-)

Champagne, cameras, crowds; winning the national championship - y/n had done it. As she ran into Sicheng’s arms in front of the cameras, he spun her around. Setting his girlfriend down, he pulled her in for a soft kiss. A kiss that held a thousand meanings; longing, congratulations, you did it, I’m proud of you, well done, y/n. Pulling away and seeing the stars in each other’s eyes, the couple stayed like that, the cameras capturing their moment - as if they were the only ones in the world at that moment.

“Shall we get out of here? I think I’ve seen enough cameras to last a lifetime.”

Sicheng couldn’t describe just how proud he was of y/n; seeing her win a tournament after she had returned from a dip in motivation felt like a scene out of a drama. Except it wasn’t a drama: this was y/n, this was real. His hand intertwined with hers, the couple walked through the streets of Seoul and simply enjoyed each other’s company. As they stopped to cross the street, a cheeky grin made its way onto his face as he quickly pressed a kiss to y/n’s cheek. When she looked to Sicheng, he turned away immediately, a bashful series of giggles falling from him as he walked across the crosswalk with y/n. With the blush on her face dying down, y/n scoffed to herself, shaking her head. Gosh, he was endearing.

Somehow, they ended up at the race track not that far from their shared apartment, and y/n was already eying the practice bikes they kept in the shed. Sicheng knew that look in her eyes all too well, and it already seemed like a bad idea in his head. Didn’t y/n just come back from a race tournament? It wasn’t that he wanted her away from what made her happy, but he missed her dearly. A little quiet time together before she hit the tracks again would be more than ideal.

“Baby...you only just returned home today, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to get back in your gear tomorrow.” An effort to persuade y/n was made, but it wasn’t strong enough, because with nothing more than a pout, some aegyo and ‘please baby~’, Sicheng’s resolve crumbled. He was whipped for y/n, and it showed. A lot. With a sigh, he ruffled her hair and nodded, a smile finding its way onto his face. Giggling, y/n kissed her boyfriend on the cheek and took her long coat off, asking Sicheng to hold it as she went over to the garage. Picking out a bike that she used frequently, y/n changed into gear and pushed the bike out to the track.

As Sicheng took a seat by a bench, his phone rang whilst he was watching y/n, making sure that was safe. Looking at the caller, he chuckled to himself.

“Mark! How are you?” The younger male across the line was bouncing with excitement, the news article on his computer. Being the couple’s mutual younger friend, he was practically treated like a little brother.

“Hyung! Oh my gosh - have you seen the article?! Your relationship is viral!” He exclaimed, the article in question running with the headline; ‘Motocross champion in a loving relationship. How long has this been going on?’. As far as tabloid news articles went, it was definitely a much kinder title than what could’ve been developed. Listening to Mark ramble on while y/n drove a few laps around the track, Sicheng burst out laughing at Mark’s impression of some of their friends. And this caught y/n’s attention, for better or for worse. To her detriment, y/n turned her head towards her boyfriend as she approached a corner, however, she failed to control her bike. Before the professional racer knew what was going on, she was sent flying off of her bike and into the metal chairs - that had been stacked up and stored under a shelter - her bike getting caught on the barriers. The sound of the crash itself was by no means quiet, as multiple chairs collapsed and fell on top of y/n.

As the crash happened, Sicheng’s gaze was ripped from the sky towards the fallen bike, and soon the chairs. A panicked horror fell on his face and he immediately hung up on the younger friend, running down towards the track and to the mess of chairs that had covered y/n.

“Y/n! Oh dear God… I told you to be careful!” His heart dropped out of his chest when y/n didn’t respond for a few seconds - although it felt like an eternity - and Sicheng feared the worst. As the adrenaline flooded his veins, the 23-year-old started pulling the chairs away, discarding them every-which-way as he tried to find y/n. Once a majority of the chairs were out of the way, he pulled her to his chest, cradling her unconscious - but thankfully alive - body. Hands still trembling, he fumbled with his phone as he dialled 119. His voice trembled as he described his situation, a shaky sigh of relief when help was confirmed. Putting the call on speaker and leaving it next to him, Sicheng held y/n’s face in his hands.

He didn’t like this. He didn’t like any of it.

He hated seeing her like this.

The tremble in his voice turned to whimpers as he ran his hand through her hair. But something felt off. Pulling his hand away, a stifled cry fell from him when his hand came back stained red. Blood. Y/N was bleeding from the back of her head. How hard did she hit her head..? Sicheng’s eyes warmed with tears as he brushed his girlfriend’s hair out of her face, a thumb tracing over her shut eyes. Soon, he could feel the tears drip down his face and he made no attempt to wipe them away, simply letting them stain his cheeks. If only he hadn’t distracted her, then she wouldn’t be unconscious. Then y/n wouldn’t be laying in his arms, bleeding from her head.

The sound of sirens brought the 23-year-old back to reality and Sicheng raised an arm up to grab the paramedics’ attention. Surrounded by paramedics, they brought y/n onto a stretcher and into the ambulance that had accompanied them. Still trembling as he tried to explain what had just happened, Sicheng was brought to the ambulance afterwards and given a glass of water to drink as the doors closed and they were driven to the hospital. His leg bounced as he grew more and more panicked, eyes blurring up with tears again as he looked over to y/n. The irony was painful, and it still didn’t register to Sicheng that only a few hours ago y/n was awake and joking around with him.

A few hours later, Sicheng was sitting in y/n’s room, on a chair close to her bed. Her hand enclosed in his, he rubbed his thumb over her palm subconsciously while he replayed the crash in his head over and over again. Getting up to walk off the anxiety, he turned to the door when he heard a series of knocks. Walking to open the door, he was met by a panicking Mark, who looked like he’d seen a ghost. Seeing y/n laid on the bed, his face fell. Lying unconscious in a hospital bed didn’t suit the motocross racer at all. He looked at Sicheng and his eyes said more than he could ever say with words. A hand on the older male’s shoulder, Mark sighed before he spoke.

“Hyung, why don’t we go outside for a bit? Y/n’s still going to be right here.” He suggested, hoping that Sicheng would agree and go to the courtyard with him. Fresh air would do them both some good. Nodding, Sicheng exhaled and grabbed his coat, which had been draped over the chair he was sitting on. With one last look at y/n, the older of the two opened the hospital room door and they left the room, making their way to the courtyard.

Handing Sicheng an iced caramel latte, Mark sat down on the bench and took a sip of his own drink. Neither of them knew what to say, but they both knew that they had to stay positive about it. Sicheng was the first to bring his attention away from the floor, looking at Mark.

“Do you think she’ll actually take a break after she recovers?” He asked, his features softening.

“She definitely won’t want to, but Noona really should take a break. A few weeks away from her bikes won’t kill her.” The brunet responded, a conviction in his voice. Y/n was brave, but sometimes too reckless for her own good and today proved that effortlessly. They both had a lingering feeling that they’d have to force y/n to take a break. Staying like that for the meantime, both were lost in thought until Mark’s phone rang; he was needed back in his apartment. Renjun was seconds from beating Donghyuck up and Jeno did not want to be the one in between it. Although, he did agree to film if anything did happen.

“Hyung, I’m sorry - I gotta go. Renjun’s going to beat Hyuck’s ass-”

“Go on, and send me the video later.” Sicheng chuckled, patting Mark’s shoulder in the reassurance that he’d be okay. A quick goodbye, and soon Mark was making his way out of the hospital, getting a taxi and heading to his shared apartment before he would be greeted by a screaming Donghyuck. Watching the younger male leave with an amused smile, Sicheng hummed to himself before he figured it was time he headed back to y/n.

Returning to his girlfriend’s hospital room, he sat back in his chair, his hand holding hers once again. The sun had started setting outside as his eyes felt heavy, and Sicheng could tell he’d most likely end up spending the night in the hospital. Pulling his chair closer to y/n’s bedside, he laid his head on the mattress, facing his girlfriend as he let the urge to sleep take over. A nurse who happened to be passing by peeked inside the room and smiled gently, almost parent-like. Going into the storage room, they picked out a pillow and blanket for Sicheng as he slept through the night shift.

By morning light, the sunlight had just started to fall on y/n’s face, and the motocross racer’s skin glowed in the early morning rays. Eyes opening with a low groan, she looked around at her surroundings, a brow raised in confusion. Why exactly was she in the hospital? Wasn’t she riding her motorbike when- oh right…

She crashed. Headfirst. That was why she was lying in a hospital bed, dazed and with a throbbing headache. Wonderful. A soft smile on her face when she saw Sicheng asleep, y/n sat herself up - albeit slowly and with a lot of effort - and reached forward to lace her fingers through his hair. Stopping when the sleeping brunet started opening his eyes, y/n’s hand stayed in her boyfriend’s hair. Yawning as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Sicheng’s eyes formed into an ‘ㅇ’ when he noticed the pillow and blanket.

“Oh? One of the nurses must have-” words getting caught in his throat when he ran his hands through his hair and ended up feeling y/n’s own hand in his hair. Turning to face y/n in hopes that he wasn’t simply just imagining things, his eyes almost didn’t process what he was seeing until Y/N smiled, amused by the shock on his face. It was cute, she had to admit.

“Y-y/n, you’re…”

“Awake?” She answered, her voice a tad hoarse. Reacting immediately and pulling her into a hug, Sicheng exhaled, content with staying like that for a few minutes - in hope that y/n being awake wasn’t a dream. Releasing her from the hug, Sicheng held her hands in his, stars in his eyes.

“How, how do you feel?... You scared me, you know?” Sicheng asked, peacefully admiring how his girlfriend looked in the morning - despite the bandages, IV and cute but unruly bed hair. Throat still dry, y/n shrugged.

“My head’s killing me, that’s for sure. Uh - what, what did the doctors say?” She asked, curious as to exactly how bad her injury was. The way Sicheng grimaced before answering wasn’t helping either. Preparing for the worst, y/n braced herself for the news. What if she couldn’t ride bikes again from that point on? Her career couldn’t be over that quick-

“Well, you got a pretty bad concussion, and they want to see if you’ve broken anything.” Sicheng explained with a sigh, indicating her elevated arm. Y/n had gotten away with concussions before - it was nothing new. Workplace incidents, that sort of thing. But if she had broken a bone, there was no way she’d be allowed to go anywhere near a motorbike until she was fully healed. Which would be a minimum of a month off the tracks, at least.

“I hope it isn’t broken.”

Getting the x-ray done was the easy bit; keeping her arm in place, letting the doctors do what they had to do, simple. It was the waiting for the results that was the hard part. Although it was only a few hours, y/n’s train of thought wasn’t letting up. The worry was eating away at her. Distracting herself by staring out of the window, even that was proving to be of little help. Biting at her lip as she went through what she’d do in the event that she did break her arm, y/n hadn’t noticed the nurse walking up to her bedside until Sicheng had repeatedly tapped her leg, an amused grin on his face after he had gotten a cup of water for the both of them. Shaking her head and turning to the nurse, y/n waited for the news.

“How bad is it?” Y/n asked, a blend of hesitation and hope in her voice.

“You’re quite lucky, Miss L/n, you had a pretty nasty crash. Apart from your concussion, you’ve sustained a mild fracture in your right arm.” The nurse answered, a polite smile on their face as they broke the news as best they could. As y/n took in the news that she’d ended up with a broken arm, she exhaled, thanking the nurse for letting her know. There was a pause in the room as the couple were left alone, an amused realisation and chuckle coming from the professional bike racer.

“Well, isn’t that wonderful?”

Holding y/n’s free hand as the couple left the hospital, Sicheng reached over and ruffled his injured girlfriend’s hair, a grin on his face at y/n shaking his hand off with a sulky downturn to her lips. They’d been on the phone with her manager, and it was confirmed that she’d be taking the required time off to recover, and an extra two weeks to actually take some time away from the track. Lips pursed as she observed her arm sling, y/n turned to her boyfriend - who had been calling a cab while she was zoned out in her own world. If she was going to be taking time off, the idea of spending as much of that time with Sicheng was quite appealing, to say the least.

“Sicheng, can you stay the night? I wanna spend more time with you,”

“Sure~ I’m free for next week. I’m all yours y/n-ah~”

Entering the apartment together, y/n sighed, taking a seat on the sofa and resting her head as she stared up at the ceiling. Hanging up his coat, Sicheng joined her, taking the same position and giggling when y/n turned to him in confusion. She knew why she was staring at the uninteresting ceiling, but why did he have to? His giggles turning into snickers, Sicheng excused himself into the kitchen before y/n could ask the question that was on her mind. Returning to the living room with two mugs of hot chocolate in hand, Sicheng set y/n’s down and took a sip of his own, an amused grin remaining on his face. Still more or less not in the mood to talk, y/n leaned over and pressed a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek as she picked up the other mug with her unbandaged hand. The couple stayed like that, enjoying their drinks and the silence.

As the evening drew closer, and both y/n and Sicheng were feeling their eyelids grew heavy, a yawn from the motocross racer in the room signaled to them both that it would be best for the couple to get some sleep.

“Baby, I don’t know about you, but I’m seconds away from passing out on this sofa,” Y/n joked as she pulled herself up and helped Sicheng to his feet. Wincing a tad when her ankle collided with the corner of the table, y/n rolled her eyes with a shake of her head and a smile when Sicheng started giggling.

“Y/n-ah, are - are you okay?”

“Well, I’m glad you’re entertained,” y/n sassed, walking into their bedroom with Sicheng trailing after, a grin still on his face, “I’m fine, just so you know~”

The next day, y/n had woken up with a groan. Although she had spent ten minutes trying to find the best way to sleep, she had tossed and turned - and now her arm was starting to ache. Pushing herself to sit up and get out of bed, y/n tried managing as best she could, gently massaging her arm every so often. She’d take some painkillers after she ate breakfast. Heading to the kitchen to try and make herself something to eat, y/n stopped and looked down, a flustered smile on her face as she turned to see Sicheng with his head buried in her shoulders.

“Good morning you~ could I interest you in some breakfast~?” Y/n laughed, kissing the still half asleep man’s cheek. Muttering something about making it himself, Sicheng unwinded his hands and dragged his feet around the kitchen floor as he made himself something to eat, his girlfriend watching him as she leaned against the dining table, sipping on a fruit smoothie.

“How do you manage to get up so early? I’m exhausted.” Sicheng asked, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Prone to working afternoons himself, waking up early morning was definitely something he wasn’t used to. Giggling as she ate, y/n shrugged, a playful smile on her face. Waking up early was the norm for the motocross racer; arriving at the tracks at unforgiving times to practice.

“Oh I don’t know~? Motocross perhaps?” She asked, teasing the man in front of her. His unamused face turning into a smile that screamed ‘I love her so much’, Sicheng rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he watched the pleased grin on y/n’s face.

“Y/n-ah, do you know how much I love you?”

“Do I?”

“I- come here you-” Walking over to y/n and pulling her out of the chair and into his arms, the couple stood there for a moment, lost in each other's eyes...Until y/n started wincing.

“Baby? What’s wrong? Did, did I hurt you, I’m so-” Sicheng pouted in concern as he started checking y/n’s arm, looking back up in confusion when she started laughing. “What? What is it?”

“Got you~”

“Y/n! You scared me! Seriously, you’ve got to be less reckless next time”

“Love you too baby~”

50 notes · View notes

tessiete · 4 years ago

Note

If you still take prompts: Rumors of the Duchess of Mandalore (bc patriarchal bs and misogynistic beliefs about female leaders) potentially getting married reaches Coruscant and Obi-Wan copes as well as can be expected. Cue sad boi sadness with maybe fluff at the end? Or go full angst I’m ok with either

I AM! I am still taking prompts, and I know this took a while to get around to because I’m also sloooooow at filling them. But here we are, dear anon. I hope you enjoy this little snippet! <3

THE GRAVITATIONAL DEFLECTION OF LIGHT

There is some silly, selfish part of him that he never outgrew, and like a weed in his gut it twists and writhes when he hears that the Duchess Kryze is to marry.

And suddenly, he finds himself thinking of her more often, and more frequently during situations where his attention would best be put to use elsewhere. In council, he is forced to ask Master Windu to repeat a question he’d failed to hear, his mind being drawn by the gleam of light off the Senate dome on the horizon. During a sparring match, he takes a hit he’d never have missed except that Anakin threatens to deliver him a close shave at the end of his saber, and he’s struck dumb by the memory of her hand upon his cheek. There are peace lilies in a vase in the Archives, and pure beskar changes hands in a deal he’s meant to disrupt at a Separatist camp, but by far the most egregious lapse comes in the midst of relief efforts in a small village on Taskeed. He is caught, for a moment, by the sight of a woman with blonde hair and a young boy on her hip turning away from him. His focus slips. A blaze of light flashes more quickly than he can see, and by the time he hears the retort of a blaster rifle he is already on the ground.

The clones close ranks around him. Cody kneels, calling in a medevac even as Obi-Wan tries to rise.

“No, sir, stay down,” he says, laying one hand against his shoulder. Obi-Wan winces at the contact. His muscles strain at the effort, the nerves at the site of his injury ruptured and ragged.

“Cody,” he chokes out. “There’s a hostile.”

His second is a merciful man and makes no comment on the idiocy of that statement. Instead, he bites open a pain tab, and shoves it between Obi-Wan’s teeth. Then, so rapidly he has no time to protest, he removes his belt, and tears apart the fabric at Obi-Wan’s waist, sprinkling sulfa powder over the gory wound, and pressing a bacta patch down to cover it.

There is no more blaster fire to mark their passage back to the ship, but the wound is too serious to treat on board The Negotiator. He is sent back to Coruscant as a consequence of his foolishness.

There, he is dipped in bacta, where he doesn’t dream, and he spends the next week of his convalescence thinking of her.

It had never been this bad during their first separation. The months following her ascension to the duchy had been painful, that he cannot deny, and he spent hours in his room lonely, and self-pitying, but he had been a child then and he can forgive himself now of the folly of youthful indiscretions. There followed more than a decade between them and he had gone days, weeks - upon the outbreak of war even months - without thinking of her at all.

But with one touch of her hand, he’s fallen again, his resolve crumbling into dust as though his indifference to her were only a veneer grown thin and brittle with being stretched over so much time.

The Duchess of Mandalore is to marry.

Why should that matter to him? They are friends. Hardly that, and nothing more. And it was he who had defined those terms. So why should he be restless, and anxious, and fretted up like some craftsman’s handiwork at the thought of it? It is silly. It is demeaning - to her, and to him.

And yet...he wants to know.

Who is she to marry? And when? How did they meet? Is he a Mandalorian, like her? Or did she meet him here? Did they meet at the Senate while he walked in the Temple only a few klicks away? Have they much in common? Do his political aims match hers? Does he long for peace like she does? Will he stand by her side in upholding it? Would he die for it? Would he die for her? Does she love him?

She must, he thinks. She must love him. She would not choose him, otherwise.

And that, perhaps, is the cruelest thought of all.

He is confined to medbay with nothing to occupy his time but his holopad, his dispatch reports, and her when he sees a news story flash on his screen.

At Last! The Lily is Plucked

He cannot help himself as he reads about a chance meeting, a whirlwind romance, and plenty of private assignations held at various hotels and restaurants across Capital City. There are holos, too, and reels. He sees her leaving the Bal Silvestre on the arm of Corellian senator, Garm Bel Iblis.

Senator Bel Iblis is older than her, and seems a bit unkempt, his long hair pulled half back in a simple style. Obi-Wan knows of him by reputation, and heard him called a rake. His politics brand him a maverick, and a rogue, and he has been known, once or twice, to engage in backdoor negotiations in order to ensure a vote swings one way or another in his favour. Beside him, while he stands smug in his dark brocade, she shines. She is spotless. Luminous. They are not well matched.

He scours the net for more, and because he is looking, he finds it. There are many articles - hundreds. Some map out timelines of their courtship (they met years ago, apparently, at some gala held while Obi-Wan was still helping Anakin with Basic), some tell the history of their previous romantic entanglements (he was engaged to a woman now dead. She was once rumoured to be promised to a Vizsla. Obi-Wan’s name is not mentioned). Some merely provide pictures of their exploits, and comment on their mutual friends, making conjecture after conjecture about how their romance came to be, and what must happen next now that the flame has been rekindled. It is torturous. And tedious. And soon, Obi-Wan loses track of the details that appear in one article, and again in every other.

But one thing remains clear to him: Satine Kryze is going to be married. She has forever slipped his reach.

A reach, he pathetically reminds himself, he never intended to extend. All this self-flagellation is for naught. He is being ridiculous.

So he thumbs off his pad, turns out the lights, and tries to sleep with the image of Satine, smiling and resplendent flickering in his mind. The next morning, feeling no better for the little rest he managed to steal, he deletes the history of his pad, and determines to feel absolutely nothing at all about Satine Kryze.

Then Padme comes to the Council and requests a padawan be sent to Mandalore’s aid.

It is Ahsoka who goes. Of course it is. He takes small solace in the fact that it had not been he who suggested her, but since she was assigned, he feels well within his rights to enquire about the Duchess upon her return.

“She seemed fine,” Ahsoka tells him. He has invited her for tea following her report to the Council, hoping he might, in his hospitality, coax a few more personal details from his grand-padawan. “I mean, there was a moment where Almec - that’s the Prime Minister, or rather was - anyway, there was a moment where he had her in a shock collar, but like I said, the cadets and I managed to sort it out.”

“Right,” he concedes. “As you said.”

A moment passes between them. Obi-Wan sips his tea, struggling to swallow as the fist around his throat grows tighter and tighter. Ahsoka, blissful in the aftermath of a successful solo mission, grabs another biscuit and a strip of perami gammon.

“And tell me,” he ventures. “What of her - her consort? Any word of him? Where was he during this mess?”

“Her consort?”

“Her husband.”

Ahsoka scrunches her nose, and cocks a brow at Obi-Wan’s wild inquiry.

“She had a nephew,” she says. “But no one ever said anything about a consort.”

“Ah,” he says. “Perhaps he was occupied elsewhere.”

“Maybe,” she agrees, amicable and amenable to letting the whole thing slide. He only hopes she won’t think it significant enough to mention to Anakin later. His curiosity won’t be as easily sated with tea and deflection.

He is not a lucky man.

Anakin comes blazing into his room with an ambitious stride, and a grin that speaks of imminent mischief.

“Heard you were asking Ahsoka about the Duchess’ consort,” he says, throwing his cloak over the back of a chair and dropping to lounge across Obi-Wan’s low couch.

“I was asking about her mission,” he corrects. He turns his back to set some water to boil, knowing that such an entrance by his padawan indicates a visit of extended duration. “And the key players, therein. Purely professional.”

“Purely.” Anakin smirks.

The subject is dropped when Anakin is diverted by the service being laid before him, and the inclusion of several of his favourite confections.

“Noorian memba tarts!” he cries. “Where did you even find these?”

“An old recipe,” Obi-Wan says. “But I remember you enjoyed them when we dined on Belasco and thought I’d try my hand at it.”

It is not a bad effort either, judging by Anakin’s display of enthusiasm. He eats the first with some degree of etiquette, but the fourth, fifth, and sixth are gone with no display of decency or shame whatsoever.

Obi-Wan sips his tea. He is thinking of Tahl while Anakin is thinking of the sweetness on his tongue, and making excuses for his absence the previous night.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, but I was unavoidably delayed after the Senate recessed for the evening. I had to - to assist a delegate with a personal matter.”

Obi-Wan says nothing, but remembers how Qui-Gon, too, used to invent reasons to disappear unchecked. He invents nothing. He only cleaves to his duty, while time and fate conspire to keep him absent anyway.

Anakin must hear something in his silence, because his expression loses the tension of equivocation, and he falls to studying Obi-Wan’s face.

“I was only teasing, master,” he says. “Before. I didn’t think to ask Ahsoka anything about the Duchess. She spent most of her time with the nephew, but he seemed a bright kid. Close to Satine. I can ask her to ask him if he knows anything -”

“Absolutely not,” says Obi-Wan. The words are soft, but definite. He rises swiftly to clear the detritus of their meal. “Thank you, Anakin, but Duchess Kryze is only a friend. I merely inquired out of a desire to assure myself that the report issued to the Council lacked nothing in the thoroughness of its presentation. I should hate to think that such a personal association might be overlooked as an avenue for effecting harm.”

“Oh.”

“But I thank you in any case. Ahsoka’s report was well done, and you should be very proud of your padawan,” he says. “As I am of you.”

He turns to Anakin then, smiling and benign. His padawan meets his look with a vaguely skeptical one of his own, before patting him on the shoulder, and shrugging back into his cloak.

“Alright, master,” he says. “I’ll let her know how thorough she was.”

“Goodbye, Anakin.”

“Goodbye,” his friend replies. Then, just as he crosses the threshold of the door and moves into the open hall, he looks back. “Oh,” he says. “There’s a quick supply run being made to Mandalore for relief in light of Ahsoka’s investigation. Scheduled for tomorrow, but unfortunately, I’m needed back at the Senate. I meant to ask - you wouldn’t mind making the trip for me, would you? You don’t even need to get off the ship.”

---

There is nothing he can say to Anakin, so of course, as contrived and embarrassing as the whole thing is, he goes. And he does get off the ship.

Satine is there to meet him.

“Master Kenobi,” she says, extending her hand. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

He drops a brief, and reverential kiss then lets her go.

“Cleaning up after my padawan and his padawan, it seems,” he says. “Apparently, a master’s work is never over. Congratulations on your recent engagement, Duchess. I hope you’ll both be very happy.”

The look which passes over Satine’s face is one he cannot decipher. He thinks she looks in equal parts shocked that he has heard, disgusted by his presumption in speaking of it, embarrassed by his boldness, and wearied by his presence. But she doesn’t deny it, so he makes his excuses to leave.

“Excuse me, Duchess,” he says. “But this was only meant to be a very brief visit, and I should prepare for departure.”

“Can you not stay for midmeal?” she asks, and he hesitates upon the precipice of her invitation. “Surely you don’t mean to tease me with a visit as brief as this? And surely your men would enjoy some rest and repast before you go?”

The troopers at his back shift, and he can feel their eagerness undulate in the Force. It would be cruel to deny them for the preservation of his own fragmented dignity, so he relents.

“Of course, your grace,” he says. “We would be most honoured.”

“Captain,” she says to the Protector at her right. “Have these men fed and watered immediately. The kitchens and my staff are at their disposal.”

He clicks his heels, and disappears, while she steps forward, and wraps her arm around Obi-Wan’s as though completely uncaring of any beau or consort or husband who might see.

“You, my dear master,” she murmurs slyly by his ear. “Are to be attended elsewhere, at my discretion.”

He does nothing to resist as she pulls him along.

Soon, they are at the Palace. Soon, they are sat at a small table in her private quarters, drinking Mandalorian kava, and eating freshly baked land’shun. Soon, they are alone.

She sets her drink aside, and dusts her hands on a fine silk napkin before broaching the subject trapped between them.

“Now, what is this about my nuptials?” she asks. Her blue eyes are steady upon his own, and he feels his palms slick with sweat. She is radiant. She is regal. There is no holo or reel or word that could do justice to the beauty of this woman in the flesh, and he feels that insidious root of jealousy writhe with agony.

“Satine -” he begins.

“No, no,” she protests, seeming to anticipate his deflection before he has begun. “I should like to hear why you think I ought to accept your congratulations, and why you felt you ought to offer them personally, in particular. Mandalore seems a rather dull trip for a High General to make.”

“I came in Anakin’s stead, actually,” he replies pertly. Another sip of kava lends some sophistication to this claim.

“Of course,” she says, but she does not look away. He can feel her gaze upon him. He can feel her glittering in the Force. She is laughing.

And he cannot bear it.

“Forgive me, your grace,” he says, rising to his feet. He sets the cup upon a saucer where it clatters inelegantly against the pot of sucre next to it, overturning the dish and sending the crystals spilling across the table. “Forgive me,” he says again.

She lunges forward to right the pot, and still his hand beneath her own. For a moment, he doesn’t breathe. Then, he pulls away.

“I read about it on the net,” he says. “I saw the holos, and the reels. I only wanted to see you one last time, to see...I wanted to see that you were happy. That’s all.”

“Oh, Ben,” she says, his name like a sigh upon the breeze.

“It is nothing,” he says. “A foolishness all my own. I am sorry if I have troubled you, and I offer you my sincerest congratulations.”

He bows, though when he raises his head, his eyes do not rise with it, so he does not see the look of sorrow upon her face. Still, he imagines it as pity, and moves to make his escape. She is faster than he is.

“No,” she says, standing between him and the door. “I will not accept your congratulations, and I will not accept your departure on such callous terms as these.”

“Duchess -”

“Ben,” she counters, leaning on the name. “I am not engaged. I am not married. And I do not intend to be, no matter how devoted to the idea of it you are.”

“I - devoted?” he asks, his voice rising to the height of his indignation. “I am devoted to no such thing. I have only - only been reconciled to it for weeks, thinking only of you and your happiness.”

“And your own misery, too, I’d wager.”

He chokes on his denial because he knows it is too big a lie to fit through his lips, and stares at her in dismay. She is smiling. Force, he thinks. She is incandescent. Like she has swallowed a star, and he can’t look away. He would that he could be consumed by her too, and finally, he gives in.

“Yes,” he says in an admission of guilt so great it brings relief. “I was miserable. I am, I think, an infinitely miserable person.”

“You are,” she agrees. “But I am not getting married, I am not engaged, and I am only as in love as I ever have been. And if you are foolish enough to forget that, then you are deserving of every misery you heap on yourself.”

“Have pity,” he begs.

“None,” she says.

“Have mercy,” he pleads.

“For you?” she says. “Always.”

They fall together like gravity and sunlight, and for a moment, whole galaxies bend to their will.

#my fic #prompt fill #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #garm's here #and anakin #and ahsoka #i mashed everyone in #star wars #fic #gffa

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