#and i had no idea when was an appropriate time to be loud and when told i just didn't listen and a teacher literally thought i was

[weirdkpopgirl]

Drunk Kisses | Mark Imagine #8

Title: Drunk Kisses

Genre: College AU, friends to lovers

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, drinking, making out

Word Count: ~2.6k

Author's Note: I am very sorry for how long it's been since I've last posted something. Lately, I've just been very uninspired to the point that I think my career of writing fanfic is coming to an end. Anyhow, I hope you guys enjoy this. I'm sorry if it's not that good. Thank you for reading ^ ^

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Anyone who knew you even a little was well aware that you were not a party person. You were the type of college student who attended all your classes, got all your homework done before the due date, and spent your weekends stowed away in a library or your dorm room. 

In your world, going to college parties was strictly off-limits. Frankly, you’ve done a good job of avoiding them your entire freshman year. A few of your friends insisted that you were missing out on fun. But the idea of loud music, sweaty crowds, and the smell of spilled beer didn’t sound like much fun to you.

But that all changed your sophomore year when your roommate, Jooyoung, finally convinced you to come to a homecoming party. She knew how much you hated any sort of social event, and respected your wishes. Now that you were in your second year, she was a little less forgiving.

“Come on, (Y/n). It’s just one party. You can’t just spend all your time in our dorm!” Jooyoung whined, half-dressed in her outfit for the night.

Glancing up from your laptop, you sighed. “You know I hate parties.”

Unfazed by your weak excuse, Jooyoung rummaged through her closet in search of something for you to wear. She didn’t even bother to look through yours, knowing you didn’t own anything remotely party-appropriate.

“You’re coming, and you’re going to look cute,” Jooyoung insisted. “Just give it a chance! You might even have fun for once.”

You opened your mouth to argue that you had plenty of fun without frat parties being involved. But before you could say anything, Jooyoung tossed a sleek black dress on your bed. It was a simple yet elegant dress, with thin straps and a figure-hugging silhouette. 

 “Here put this on. Trust me, you’ll look amazing,” she urged, flashing you a grin. 

Amazing wasn’t the word you’d choose when you reluctantly got up from your desk and changed into the dress. But before you could back out, Jooyoung was dragging you out of the dorms. As soon as you stepped outside with her, you regretted agreeing. You could already hear the sound of thumping music from blocks away, causing your stomach to knot as you approached the house.

It was even worse than you imagined once you got inside. The air smelled like alcohol and sweat, the bass from the music rattled your ribs, and people were packed together tightly, shouting over the noise.

Jooyoung’s eyes widened when she recognized someone she knew in the crowd. “I’ll be back!” she yelled over the music.

“Wait—” you began to protest, but she had already vanished into the sea of people.

Swallowing hard, you weaved through the crowd to follow after her. Just as you were about to give up hope, you felt a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, you were met with a familiar face. Lee Donghyuck. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t the party type,” the boy teased, clearly surprised to see you in this type of setting.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I’m not. Jooyoung made me come.”

“Hm, I see,” Donghyuck nodded with a smirk. “Want a drink?”

You eyed the plastic red cup he offered, raising an eyebrow. “You know I’m not twenty-one yet, right?”

“Yeah, like that’s ever stopped anyone from drinking underage,” he chuckled.

Wanting to stick with your rules, you shook your head. “I’m not drinking, Donghyuck.”

“Why not? You scared?” Donghyuck cocked his head, knowing exactly how to push your buttons.

Your stomach twisted, more out of pride than anything else— because you weren’t scared. You just didn’t want to end up like the sloppy drunk partygoers who got absolutely wasted. But Donghyuck’s taunting words and the smirk at you struck a nerve, and something inside you snapped.

With a determined expression, you snatched the cup out of his hand. “I’m not scared,” you said, before downing the drink in one go. 

The burn of the alcohol burned your throat immediately, causing you to pull away in a grimace. Donghyuck’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting you to go through with it.

“That’s the spirit!” he laughed, slinging an arm around you. “Come on, let’s get you another shot.”

One shot turned into two, then three. You weren’t sure when you lost count, but the edges of the room soon started to blur, and the music didn’t sound so painfully loud anymore. Your body felt light, and everything seemed warmer. Fuzzier. You stumbled through the crowd in search of Jooyoung but instead bumped into someone else.

“(Y/n)?” The sound of his voice instantly made your heart stop for a second. 

It was Mark Lee, a junior you knew from InterVarsity. He was someone you’ve admired from afar for quite some time now. The kind of guy everyone liked, always smiling and joking around with his friends. You’ve been crushing on Mark since last year when you saw him perform on the worship team. But you hadn’t dared to pursue anything beyond friendship.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said approaching you, his words slightly slurred.

He hadn't had too much to drink, having come as the designated driver for his friends. But it was tough to resist joining in with all the pressure around him.

“I didn’t expect to be here either,” you replied with a giggle, feeling more at ease than usual.

Mark’s expression shifted to slight concern as he noticed your flushed cheeks. “Are you…?”

“Donghyuck may have given me a few drinks,” you explained, swaying slightly on your feet.

At the mention of your mischievous friend’s name, Mark let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head.

“Of course he did,” he muttered under his breath. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

He grabbed your hand gently, and the contact sent a jolt through you. With his guidance, the two of you pushed through the crowd together, stepping out onto the porch. The cool air outside felt wonderful compared to the stuffy house you were just in. You smiled, closing your eyes and leaning against the railing.

“You okay?” Mark asked, a hint of concern in his voice as he contemplated whether he should get you some water.

You opened your eyes to look at him, suddenly feeling bolder. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that you two were alone in a quiet space. You’ve never been this close to him before. But now that you were, you could see all the features of his that you admired. His dark messy hair, the way his lips curled into a soft smile, the way his eyes glinted under the dim porch light.

“You have really pretty eyes, you know that?” you blurted without thinking.

He blinked, taken aback by your compliment. “Uh…thanks?”

“No, like they’re so pretty,” you continued, stepping closer to brush your fingers over his cheek. “I could get lost in them.”

His eyes widened at your touch, but he didn’t take your hand away. “Is that so?” he asked, a slow smile spreading across his face.

By now, you heart was pounding erratically in your chest. But before your brain could override your desires, your hands found their way to his shoulders and pulled him down toward you. Mark was frozen when your lips met his, as even the tipsy version of him hadn’t anticipated this boldness from you. But once he processed that you were kissing him, a switch went off in his brain and something shifted.

Mark’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer as the passion seeped into the kiss. His lips were warm and firm against yours, and the taste of alcohol lingered between you. Your fingers quickly became tangled in his hair, and you pressed yourself against him, feeling the heat of his body through his shirt. Mark groaned softly into your mouth, his hands sliding up your back, one hand cupping the back of your neck as he tilted his head to kiss you more deeply.

Your lips moved like a dance, slow and rhythmic, but growing faster with each passing second. At some point, you felt the soft brush of his tongue against your lower lip, and you opened your mouth for him. The kiss was intoxicating, and the most exhilarating sensation you had ever experienced. You could feel his breath mixing with yours, your lips only parting for brief seconds before crashing back together, more urgently each time.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” Mark whispered against your mouth when the two of you finally pulled away for good. 

Your hand remained on his neck as you gazed into his eyes. Even in your drunken state, you could see the intensity in them. “Me too,” you said softly, resting your forehead against his.

The rest of the night was a complete blur to you. You woke up in bed the next morning with a splitting headache, and the sunlight streaming through the window shades only made it worse. As someone who had never had a hangover before, you had never felt so miserable.

Groaning, you lay back in bed and tried to recall what happened last night. You vaguely remembered the party, and Jooyoung running off, then Donghyuck pouring shots for you. Your stomach twisted at the thought. Why did I let him talk me into drinking?

Rolling over, you grabbed your phone from your nightstand, trying to ignore the fact that it felt like someone was pounding your head with a hammer. The screen instantly lit up with a few notifications, mostly emails. But one in particular made your heart stop.

Mark: Hey, how are you feeling? You okay?

Your breath hitched as you read the text over and over again to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Slowly, the memories from last night began flooding back, and a rush of panic accompanied them.

“Oh my gosh,” you muttered under your breath.

The two of you kissed last night. It wasn’t just one kiss either. It was so many times that it was almost neverending. Clasping a hand over your mouth in mortification, the realization hit you. You made out with Mark Lee, the guy you’ve barely been able to hold a conversation without stuttering since the day you’ve met him. This couldn’t be real.

You sat up quickly, causing your head to throb even more. Knowing you couldn’t just leave Mark hanging, you typed a response with wobbly fingers.

You: I think I’m okay, thanks. You?

As you were mentally kicking yourself over and over, your phone buzzed again. Sighing to yourself, you picked up the device again to see what he said.

Mark: I’m good, don’t worry. Want to grab some coffee?

         I can bring you some aspirin if you need it :)

A small laugh escaped you at his kind offer, as you replied with a simple “Sure.” Even though a part of you was nervous, you knew that you needed to talk to him. Nibbling on your lower lip, you anxiously waited for him to reply. Your heart jumped when he responded so fast.

Mark: Great! Meet me outside in 10?

With a sigh, you got up from bed. Your gaze flickered to the empty bed across from you— Jooyoung wasn’t there. You wondered if she came home at all last night. But knowing her, she couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble.

Pulling yourself together, you washed up in the bathroom across the hall. Once you returned to your room, you slipped on some jeans and the first sweater you could find. Anxiety churned in your stomach as you walked outside.

Mark was already waiting outside your residence hall, his hands shoved his pockets as his shoes tapped rhythmically against the pavement. His face lit up with a smile when he spotted you, somehow making you even more nervous. He greeted you with a soft wave which you returned with a small smile.

“Hey, you sure you’re okay?” he asked, noticing you squinting against the sunlight.

You gave him a light nod. “Aside from feeling like someone is pounding a hammer in my head, yeah I’m good.”

He chuckled in response, and a brief silence followed. Swallowing hard, you cleared your throat.

“Um…about last night, you began, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I-I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to get so drunk, and I don’t usually act like that. I’m sorry if I made things awkward or—”

Mark’s expression softened as he stepped closer, gently placing his hands on your shoulders to steady you, cutting off your rambling. “It’s okay, (Y/n),” he reassured.

You blinked, surprised. “It is?”

He nodded, his gaze locked on yours. “Yeah. I’m not gonna lie, I was surprised to see you at that party, but…I don’t regret anything that happened last night.”

His words made your heart skip a beat. A part of you had worried that Mark only kissed you because of the alcohol, but from the look in his eyes, it didn’t seem like just a hazy memory to him.

“Did you…regret it?” Mark then asked, his eyes searching yours with a hint of uncertainty. He was pretty sure that his feelings for you were mutual. But he wanted to be sure that it wasn’t just the alcohol talking last night.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “If I’m being honest, no, I don’t regret it. I just wish it didn’t take my getting drunk to finally express how I felt about you.”

Mark’s shoulders relaxed slightly at this, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I’m so glad to hear that…because I’ve felt the same way for awhile now,” he paused, softening his voice. “I just wasn’t sure if you liked me back.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. “Wow…I had no idea. I mean, I’ve liked you for so long, but I was always too nervous to say anything.”

You watched his smile grow wider and his eyes brighten up. His expression was a mixture of relief and anticipation.

“Well, now that’s all out of the way,” he said, slowly taking your hand. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You felt your cheeks flush again, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment—it was from the sudden rush of hope that maybe, just maybe, things between you two were finally falling into place.

“I…I’d really like that,” you breathed, your voice trembling with excitement and disbelief.

Mark’s grin grew wider, and he squeezed your hand gently. “Good,” he said, his tone full of warmth and sincerity. Then, with a playful smirk, he added, “So, uh… can I kiss you again?”

Your stomach fluttered. This time, you weren’t drunk. This time, you were fully aware of what she was doing, and the idea of kissing him—sober—made her feel nervous in a different way. But you smiled, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. When you gave him the yes, Mark’s lips were on yours again. 

His lips were warm, and they moved gently against yours, sweet and careful. You felt your heart race as you kissed him back, your hands resting lightly on his chest. His thumb stroked your cheek as your lips pressed together, and this time, you could feel everything—the softness of his lips, the way his breath mingled with yours, the way his heart beat steadily under your palms.

When you finally pulled apart, the both of you were smiling, your foreheads resting against each other like the night before. Although you still weren’t a party person, your dislike for them lessened just a bit now.

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previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[unreality-monster]

You know, it started as suspicion and hypochondria but now i'm like convinced i'm actually autistic and constantly masking and experiencing burnout and severe social anxiety as a result of it and now i kind of want to see a psychologist

[gutsby]

Homemade

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Warnings: 18+. Sneaky sex tape fun with dbf!Joel ;-) Unprotected p-in-v. Age gap. Daddy kink. Facefucking. Joel being the world’s worst cameraman. Shower sex. Overstimulation via adjustable shower head. Dirty talk. Screaming ‘daddy’ too loud, and your father shows up.

Translations: In Chile, pico is slang for penis. Joel’s is big.

Part of the Waiting Game series

“If this ever ends up on PornHub, I’ll kill you, Miller.”

Joel knew you meant it, too.

The only reason you’d agreed to make this dumb little ‘home video’ at all was because you were headed back to college tomorrow and wouldn’t see him again until May. Doing long distance was tough, but doing long distance while simultaneously trying to keep a risqué, torrid, and totally-not-age-appropriate love affair with your father’s best friend under wraps was infinitely more difficult. This was the safest way to keep desire alive in the meantime.

Immortalized on a Sony CCD-TR70—because neither one of you trusted iCloud to keep a sex tape secret.

It had also been the only video camera you could find in the closet before your dad had plopped down on the couch just outside your room and announced he would be watching Oppenheimer for the third time. You’d had to scurry off fast before he could invite you to join him.

“I’ll be damned—this thing’s gotta be as old as I am,” Joel mused as he stood at the foot of the bed, camcorder pointed at your semi-nude form.

“I didn’t know they had cameras back in the Stone Age.”

Your smirk didn't flinch, even when Joel flipped you off.

You were lying on your side, head propped up on one hand while the other picked at a few loose strings from the comforter. The lacy, pastel pink bustier holding your tits in place was currently making breathing feel like a chore, and your skin was on fire from the warmth of the room, but you tried not to show it. Joel twisted a dial.

“Alright, now...flash ‘em for daddy,” he grinned as soon as the lens focused in where he wanted: your cleavage.

You rolled your eyes.

“A little closer, please,” you said, patting the space in front of you.

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still cradling the camera, he clambered over the bed so fast he nearly tripped and took a nosedive in the headboard. You had to cover your mouth to contain a shriek of laughter—and terror—as his frame barreled into yours.

“JOEL!”

Fortunately, your cameraman was quick to recollect himself, planting a knee on either side of your chest once he’d knocked you onto your back. Then, from above, he angled the grey-black hunk of metal just a foot away:

“Anything you’d like to say to the folks watching at home, ma’am?” Joel inquired, suddenly assuming all the poise and matter-of-fact elocution of a news reporter.

You stuck your tongue out at the camera and blew the wettest, fattest raspberry you could muster in response.

Joel hummed, zoomed in on your lips, and nodded.

“Fascinating,” he said, pretending to make sense of the fart noise you’d just made with your mouth, “Have you ever given thought to maybe...sucking cock on camera?”

The swiftness with which he was able to dodge your kick was remarkable. He swayed the camera just out of reach before you could shove it away and say, ‘Joel, quit being GROSS’ and he promptly replied, ‘Ain’t that the whole point of a sex tape, sweet pea? Bein’ a little bit gross?’ And you playfully tried to kick him again, only this time, he caught your foot and yanked you closer to him. He turned the camcorder back to your face and grinned.

“That’s my little pornstar,” he murmured with affection. Then, zooming in again, this time to find your panty line, “Riiiiight there.”

You knew giving Joel Miller recording privileges for an occasion as momentous as this was a bad idea. At the rate you were going now, you’d be seeing the sunrise through the window before you ever got a glimpse of his dick. You needed to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

You crawled on all fours to get to Joel across the bed.

The man, kneeling with the camera pointed in your direction, looked up to cock a brow at you.

“Sweetheart, hey, can ya do that one more—”

“Hush,” you muttered, closing in on his crotch. 

Your head was lowered so you could undo the front of his jeans. Because of this, your back was arched, and your ass was pointed up just the slightest bit. For a second, Joel seemed torn between tilting the lens to your lower half or your face, which was inching ever closer to the bulge in his trousers. In time, he landed on the latter.

He swallowed. That sight never got old—and seeing it displayed on the camcorder’s semi-grainy screen only made it that much hotter. Joel shifted on his knees while you worked him out of his boxers, watching the nimble movements of your fingers as you wrestled the fabric.

“Wanna—” Glancing to the side of the bed, “—maybe—”

“Yup.”

Both of you liked it better on the floor: you on your knees in front of Joel, chin tilted up to see his reactions as you sucked him off. You loved to sink between his legs and then see and feel nothing but him, brain going blank the moment his cock filled your mouth. Joel slid a pillow under your knees before widening his stance some.

“Is it on?” Your hand was wrapped firmly around the base of his cock and your lips were hovering an inch from the tip. You resisted the urge to lick the precum off just yet.

“Darlin’, it’s been on ever since you stepped outta the bathroom in that— that—” Joel seemed to be searching for a word when the head of his cock was enveloped in a kiss. You dragged your tongue across the slit of him and collected the hot, salty beads with a muffled moan.

Then you pulled off.

“Teddy,” you said, reminding him of the name for that pretty little tulle and lace getup you currently had on.

“Teddy,” Joel echoed, his mind a million miles away from any lingerie jargon at the moment. He held the camera tighter as you took him back into your mouth and sank deeper on his cock. He struggled to keep it steady.

It was strange, watching Joel and the rounded glass of the lens as you did this dirty thing that was only meant to be shared between you and him. Knowing it would be recorded, saved for future viewing, displayed on some dimly lit screen in Joel’s bedroom maybe one, twice, or more likely than not, several dozen times over the next three months. You wondered how you might look from this new point of view; though, you weren’t so sure you needed to know what sight Joel was made privy to while you sucked and hollowed your cheeks around his cock.

As it turned out, that uncertainty wasn’t meant to last you very long, because Joel flipped the camera’s screen around two seconds later. Some sepia-tinted, pixelated rendition of your face, framed by the date and time and a bright red flashing dot beside the word ‘REC’ were the first to greet you. You flinched back just a little.

“Joel,” you said, almost bashful, “Flip it back.”

Joel just grinned. Then he laced his fingers through your hair and tugged you closer to him, thumb stroking over your scalp, “C’mon, darlin’, don’t ya wanna see how goddamn pretty ya look on your knees for me?”

You didn’t think you looked pretty at all. In fact, you reckoned your features looked something more like an alien utility funnel than a real, human face as you tilted your chin inward and seemed to be nothing but eyes and a hollowed-out expression, but you let Joel guide you back onto him all the same. You heard a low rumble of pleasure take shape in his chest as your lips slid over his shaft. Your gaze remained glued to the screen as you did.

Wet with saliva and a few faint traces of precum, you continued to bob your head up and down. Joel’s groans grew louder, and your drive to take him further and further surged as well. By the time his hand was tightening into a white-knuckled fist in your hair, you’d nearly taken him all the way to the back of your throat, and your nose was no more than an inch from the soft tufts of hair on his belly. Joel let out a shuttering breath.

“Fuck me,” he heaved. You might’ve smiled if your lips weren’t otherwise occupied. Then he clenched his hand even harder and murmured, “Can you— can I, please—”

Again, you didn’t need him to finish the rest of the question to know what he wanted. You moved your head back just slightly to nod, a low, ‘Mhmm’ reverberating down the length of his dick as you gave him permission. Joel swallowed and set the camera aside immediately.

He placed it on the nightstand, perfectly level with your head, to the side. Then he rotated the device just a bit, took one glance at the screen, and shortly returned to where you were watching him with wide, glossy eyes.

“Ready?” he asked. His right hand now joined the left at the back of your head, but not before thumbing a quick touch over your cheek to get a feel for your approval.

You hummed once more. You watched Joel’s hips move forward, hands secure around your scalp all the while, and you felt a gentle nudge at the back of your throat. Then another. You couldn’t help the impulse to gag, but thankfully, it was short-lived. Joel peered down at you, eyes searching yours for any plea to stop or slow down, but he found nothing. He sheathed himself deeper until your lips were brushing the base of his dick. He groaned.

“That’s a good…fuckin’ girl,” he managed, voice strained, “Takin’ my cock so deep.”

He shifted his hips to move an inch or two out, then slid his cock forward again, bumping that spot at the top of your throat. This time, you were better adjusted to take him and felt your muscles expand and contract around him without activating your gag reflex. Your eyes stayed trained on his face while he dragged his cock back again.

“My pretty girl and her—” Joel stabbed back into you, somehow tender in the way he did it, “—pretty fuckin’ mouth…Sweet thing likes gettin’ facefucked, does she?”

With the increased pace of his thrusts and the grip he had on the sides of your head, you couldn’t quite answer, but Joel could tell from the glint in your eye that you loved when he manhandled and fucked your throat like this. Watched the light sear gently behind those irises as you swallowed every inch of his cock, back and forth, and let your brain break down to little more than a happy, mindless mush. Joel was always keen to oblige you on that front—aroused to no end at the sight of all your thoughts being fucked straight out of your head—and within the next few thrusts, his gut was giving a familiar clench. He pulled halfway out of your mouth, paused, felt the pinch again, then withdrew from your lips fully.

“Get on the bed.”

You straightened back up and made it over to the mattress, quickly. Before you could assume the position you’d been hoping to take on all fours, you felt yourself flipped on your back. Joel yanked your hips to the edge of the bed and kneeled down between your legs. Hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and had them shuffled down your thighs and past your ankles in no time at all. Then, when he lowered his lips to your wet, aching core, you pressed a touch to the crown of his head.

“Joel, wait,” you said. All of a sudden your chest felt tight.

In spite of the fact that your airways were open and completely free from any obstruction—namely, Joel’s big ol’ pico—you still found it difficult to inhale. Some murky, amorphous sense of anxiety weighed over your chest.

When your hand didn’t move from his head and instead pushed him further, Joel furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What’s’a matter, darlin’?”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him.

“I haven’t…just— haven’t washed down there today…o-or shaved,” you stammered, “Don’t want you to taste it.”

That was largely a lie. You’d bathed, shaved, and prepared for this just fine, but really were more concerned about the novel optics that loomed overhead. Being filmed in such a singularly vulnerable state without knowing how to act. You were fine when the attention was focused on Joel and his pleasure, but something about having your every whimper and moan laid bare before you on film felt daunting. Unnerving, in a way.

Joel frowned while rubbing your thigh. His brow pinched inward again, as if he were considering something.

Then he moved across your body, and your muscles eased with relief at the thought that he’d just let it go and get to fucking you exactly how you wanted. You reached for him, ready to wrap your legs around his waist, when a yelp clawed out of your throat. You found that you didn’t get to touch his chest, or his cheeks, or his big, broad, beefy shoulders, as you were promptly thrown over the latter of the three body parts and lifted when Joel stood up from the bed. He started carrying you across the room, heedless of the startled, ‘What the FUCK, Miller?’ you’d cried the second he took one step.

Hardwood floors transformed to tile before your eyes, and shortly, you realized you were being brought into your bathroom.

You heard the squeak of some metal knob being turned, then a brief sputter, then a spray of water raining down on your shower floor. You were still being held hostage over Joel’s shoulder, try as you might to bite at his lower back or smack his ass in an attempt to break loose.

He set you down a second later, seemingly unfazed.

“Get in.” He nodded toward the shower.

Before you had a chance to respond, he left. You stood back in disbelief—refusing to go into the shower and let Joel have his win—but just as you opened your mouth to call out and tell him as much, his form slipped back in through the door. Naked, now, and wielding that stupid, goddamned camcorder with a devious glint in his eye.

“Will you—” You held out a defensive hand in front of you, cheeks already heating, “—stop with that?!”

Secretly, the corners of your lips were fighting a smile as Joel drew closer with the camera held up to your face.

“There she is, folks,” he announced, as though speaking to a crowd, or else reading off of a script from the world’s most cheesy porno, “My dirty, dirty girl says she needs a shower—don’t ya, sweet pea?”

It sounded so ridiculous and dumb that neither one of you could keep from laughing. Even as you lifted your middle finger in response, Joel grinned and smacked your ass. Steadied the camera out in front, nudged you closer to the shower, and watched you somewhat begrudgingly obey his orders. Once you’d stripped what little remained on your body, you stepped into the tub.

Add to ‘ridiculous and dumb’ just wildly unsexy as well—who the hell needed a soapy interlude to a sex tape?

Joel Miller, apparently. He constricted his grip on the camera and followed you in, tongue already skimming the backs of his teeth in anticipation. You turned away to step under the shower’s stream, and he wasted no time getting a shot of your derrière. You leaned forward and sighed.

The water worked wonders to get your muscles to loosen some, but still, you were nervous. You could clean up now, stall a little longer, maybe even offer to give Joel head again—but what if he really wanted to eat you out on camera? You couldn’t put off the conversation forever.

Or another minute, it seemed.

You let out a shriek when you felt Joel’s fingers sneak up between your thighs. You hardly knew what he was doing, just folding limply when he spun you around to press your back against the shower wall. Your eyes widened to see him descending your body once more.

“I lied,” Joel said, smirk painted clear across his features, “You’re not dirty—I just wanted to eat your pussy in the shower ‘s’all.”

Chivalry was evidently alive and well in Austin, Texas.

No truer words could have been spoken, and yet, you felt wildly uncomfortable the second Joel’s head dipped between your legs and that big, dumb, handsome face started licking stripes up your sensitive core. You cast a glance to the side and saw the camcorder perched on the sink—just through the open slit in the shower curtain, you could see it pointed directly at you.

You shivered and started to push Joel away.

“Can we maybe just—”

“Sweetie?!”

Joel’s lips tore out of your cunt quicker than a sneeze through a screen door. His eyes were wide.

“Y-Yeah, dad?” you squeaked, tone almost fearful.

“Everything okay in here? I heard ya scream,” your dad returned shortly.

You could only imagine the expression of confusion and distress painting his every lineament in that moment. Probably just barely sticking his head through the crack in the door and blinking anxiously through the steam.

Your dad was caring like that.

He just never knew the right times to show up.

No, there were very few times where you would’ve liked to see him less—apart from that one time you’d sucked Joel’s dick under the table at your dad’s birthday dinner. Your heart was thudding a wild, erratic beat in your chest, and you could only imagine how Joel was feeling. Probably seeing visions of a Size 11 boot being shoved up his ass if his friend happened to slide the shower curtain to the side and see him nose-deep in his daughter’s box.

That would be bad. So very, very bad and probably ten times worse than when Tommy had caught you blowing his brother at the aforementioned birthday party. You just couldn’t seem to catch a break these days.

You sucked in a breath and answered anyway.

“I thought I saw a spider.”

“Really?” You could already sense the embittered tinge to your dad’s voice, harking back to the war he’d once declared on all wolf spiders in the home, “Want me to kill it?”

The next thing you heard was two boots thud on the bathroom floor outside the shower, and you could’ve sworn you saw Joel’s whole soul leap from his body. He shot a frantic look around him, spotted a window above, and seemed to wonder for half a second if he might be able to shimmy his 188-pound frame through a space that probably wasn’t big enough to fit a fat raccoon. He slumped his weight against the shower wall and winced.

“No! I— It wasn’t even a spider. Just a…roach.”

Shortly, Joel’s eyes widened even more and met yours, as if to ask, ‘Why the FUCK would you say that?’

“A roach?!” your dad cried simultaneously.

Apparently, you’d forgotten that any derivative of the word ‘cockroach’ was like a sleeper agent activation phrase for middle-aged fathers who wanted to keep their homes free of all household pests. The look on Joel’s haggard, world-weary face communicated as much to you, and for a second, you remembered that he, too, was built the same way as any other semi-old dude you knew.

Just bigger and beefier and…harder below the belt than you would’ve expected most men around his age to be.

You quickly chided yourself for ogling Joel’s dick at a time like this and replied to your father, shrill, “No!”

Then, slightly more composed, “No, no— I already took it out with some hairspray and told it to fuck off to hell.”

An attempt at humor was the last leg you had to stand on. Fortunately, it worked.

Outside the shower, your dad chuckled, and his footsteps started to shuffle off toward the door.

“Ah. Atta girl,” he beamed, ever the advocate for brutal cockroach killings, “If you see another, just holler, okay?”

“Okay.”

You heard the sound of the bathroom door closing, and you almost fell to the floor. Joel probably would’ve been facedown just as well—fear seeping out of his body along with every last ounce of willpower to stand—had he not made a dive for you as soon as your dad had left.

The force of his push sent you straight into the wall, legs forced to wrap around his waist as he buried his face in your neck.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed.

“You’re welcome,” you murmured, swiping the water out of your eyes with a grimace.

Then, just as you were about to request that Joel lower you back down to the floor and out of the shower’s spray, you felt a nudge between your legs. Luckily not a tongue this time—just Joel, or the tip of his leaking cock. The man below you grinned, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a wash of relief. Could it be?

“I’ll still eat you out if y’want,” he started, though speaking with a little less conviction this time around, “But after all that I, uh—kinda jus’ wanna fuck ya stupid.”

Well thank fuck for fake spiders and cockroaches, too; you’d just averted a dreaded tonguefuck, thanks to that detour.

You’d worry about your pornstar moans and on-camera charisma another time—now you could just sit back and let Joel do all the work while he took you against the wall.

Really, there was no need to concern yourself with anything at all from that point forward. Once you’d given Joel the green light, he was sinking you onto his cock with a grunt and making sure you felt nothing but him. His hands found your hips and held you firmly in place as he rutted into you from below, your own fingers latching onto his shoulders for some much-needed support. Both of you knew that you needed to be extra quiet now—seeing how sound seemed to carry in that tight, tiled space—so Joel snagged your lips in his for a kiss.

He was practically panting in your mouth by the time you started meeting his thrusts. His fingertips slid some and must’ve seared ten perfect crescents into the flesh of your ass as he fucked you into the wall.

“Look so pretty like this,” he whispered in between kisses and short, shallow breaths. His cock parted your insides with an excruciating welt of pleasure, and he hardly even seemed to realize it, “Look so damn pretty takin’ cock.”

Then, lips kicking up in a smile when it seemed he’d remembered something, he added, “Can’t wait to play this tape back home and watch us fuck all over again.”

Again. Again. And again. Shit, you could just see it now.

Your eyes traversed the compact shower space once more to find the video camera—still perched, still live, still perfectly implacable and silent atop the sink as it recorded your every grunt, groan, and shuddering moan. You were nearly as curious to know what Joel’s bare ass looked like rutting into you like this as you were to hear yourself getting railed against the shower wall. Maybe you’d beat this fear of secondhand embarrassment after all.

Maybe.

Joel’s teeth snagged your bottom lip and bit it, lightly.

“Every chance I get, you can bet I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout this…sweet pussy while you’re away,” he said, voice low and occasionally punctured by a groan, “Say one more thing f’me and I’ll…cum every time I watch this part.”

The kinks at the corners of his lips were endearing. You would’ve liked to supply them with just about anything they could’ve wanted, so when they leaned into your ear and murmured just what it was they needed to hear, you only hesitated a second.

Or maybe two or three, because, well…it was risky.

Moaning ‘daddy’ out loud at a time like this? It might get Joel off quick, but it might send your real dad running even faster. You weren’t crazy about the thought of anything that might draw the man’s attention again.

Joel seemed a little less risk-averse than you, notwithstanding the window-leaping fear he’d felt when your dad had rushed in before. Leave it to a criminally horny man to have the memory of a goldfish, though.

At present, Joel was blinking and gawking a bit like one, too, waiting for you to enunciate that one magic word.

You couldn’t deny he made a damn cute desperate sex fiend when he wanted to be. And you needed to cum.

You figured you could cut a deal with him just this once.

“Alright,” you mumbled against the top of his stubbled lip, “Make me cum and I’ll say anything you want, Miller.”

You weren’t sure if it was a chuckle or a strangled moan that jumped up in his throat when Joel squeezed your sides tighter. All you knew was that he was lowering you to the floor in the next instant, spinning you around, and walking you forward, swiftly and with purpose, toward the opposite end of the shower. Right where the crack in the curtain made you most visible to the camcorder.

Joel’s hand snaked around your front and gently eased between your legs. Then, pressing his chest to your back and nudging you to bend just slightly at the waist, he tipped your bodies closer to the camera’s line of vision and stilled. From the LED screen, you could see the ghost of a smile crossing his lips as he shifted his head beside your own. Next, they were kissing across your shoulder, your neck, that sensitive spot behind your ear, and finally the shell of it, brown eyes trained on the camera lens as he murmured to you, “Stay real still.”

You didn’t know if you could. But you tried. And you damn near cried when his fingers started working circles over your clit. Your body was raised on tip-toes, and your hand was bracing the wall as Joel fucked you from behind and made a mess of your wet, writhing body. In no more than three or four strokes, your fears of looking or sounding stupid on camera trickled away with all the rest of the silent, sizzling liquids circling the drain below. Your cheek pressed against Joel’s rougher one, and with the push of each new thrust, you came more unraveled.

When Joel’s hand closed over the front of your throat, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t move—couldn’t move, as the man was holding you still in such a taut, rigid grip.

“What do we say when we get fucked this nice, baby?” Joel whispered in your ear, words almost entirely masked by the sounds from the shower. You still heard it, though.

“T-Thank you,” you stuttered, cockdrunk and faint.

“Thank you, what?”

Your eyes were fluttering closed, but you could feel the smug expression just over your shoulder. You clenched around him and felt him snap his hips ahead even harder.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whimpered.

“Say it again.”

“Thank you, daddy!” you whined, still scared to be too loud.

Joel wasn’t scared. His hand ascended the column of your neck to pinch your chin between his fingers, jerking your head to the right.

To the crack in the curtain. To the camera.

You could’ve cried with how fast he was fucking you now. You opened your eyes and cast a pathetic look to the recorder. Joel made sure you maintained that gaze, too.

“Who’s makin’ ya feel this good?” he seethed, shaking your whole frame with the breakneck pace of his hips.

“You, daddy.”

“Who’s fuckin’ this sweet cunt like no one ever has?”

“You, daddy.”

Joel seemed sated and somehow not fully satisfied at all. Like he was pleased to see you falling apart for him like this, but needed to hear more. Feel more.

He withdrew from you, and you nearly collapsed with the absence of his arms holding you straight.

You pressed a shaky palm to the wall and almost moaned for him to get his ass back over here, you weren’t done, when Joel returned in a second. To your relief, his muscly arms found their way around your front once more, and his clock plunged back inside you, too—only this time, you sensed you were missing something else.

Water.

It wasn’t on your back anymore.

It was fanning between your legs.

Blasting the full force of its stream toward your most sensitive parts as Joel held the shower head up between your thighs. You would’ve jumped back and screamed were it not for his hand clamping tight over your mouth before you could, his lips grazing over your ear again.

“Try it one more time.”

You released a hoarse, muffled squeal into his palm when he lifted the stainless steel to your clit and started rolling his hips. The strokes themselves were relatively gentle, but paired with the ruthless spate of the water, your eyes were nearly rolling to the back of your head at the pulse.

You couldn’t breathe, much less speak. Joel hummed almost apologetically into your hair but didn’t seem sorry at all as he lowered his hand back down to your throat and squeezed. He continued rocking his hips into yours.

“You’ve said it dozens of times before—what’s’a matter?”

Joel Miller knew what the fuck was the matter. He just liked to see you desperate, fucked-out, and teetering on the brink of going feral before he let you reach your peak.

“D-D-D—”

Damn, you sounded stupid.

“D-D-Do you wanna cum? Is that it?” Joel said, mocking your struggle to articulate words as he fucked you.

In spite of your normal no-bullshit attitude toward him, you weren’t in quite the right frame of mind to be talking back to him. You just nodded and moaned, movements constricted by the grip of his fingers on your neck.

“Use those big girl words for me, honey. I know ya can.”

Again, you parted your lips and started to speak, but the oscillation of the water, the brush of his cock, the patently deprecating lilt in Joel’s string of praises, made it nearly impossible. You ended up sputtering again,

“D-D-ah-fuuuckfuckfuck.”

“That ain’t the word I’m looking for.”

But, just as you ventured to say it once more, he cut in,

“Here. Lemme help ya find it.”

Before you could blink, Joel was pistoning his hips against your ass like he had before, only this time, he held the shower head stationary between your legs as you seized and nearly fell to the floor with the force of all the pleasure coursing through you. Your body seemed to act of its own accord, head dropping to Joel’s shoulder and stomach giving an alarmingly fitful pinch as an orgasm tore through you. You couldn’t control how it came or where it went—or how your tongue jumped up and cried,

“Daddy!”

Joel nodded, fucking you through each violent spasm with all the composure and aplomb of a seasoned pro. While your eyes cycled back in the throes of delirium, he held firm and didn’t slow his hips—or the shower head.

You probably could’ve torn a hole through a cinder block if you’d happened to have one between your teeth just then. That was how fervid and merciless the aftershocks of your climax were pulsing through you, exacerbated to the nth degree by the continuity of Joel’s movements. You managed to grab the forearm that was holding the metal nozzle and plead a wild, slightly stifled, “JOEL!”

In truth, you didn’t really want him to stop. It felt too good. You could tell that Joel sensed this, too, because in the instant after that, his lips were sponging kisses to your shoulder, cock working steadily between your walls.

“One more, sweet pea.”

“Joel—”

“And say it louder this time.”

Were you in your right mind, you probably would’ve chided him for being so reckless and stupid about it all. How the fuck could he expect you to scream out loud when your dad was lounging right outside of your room? Did he really think the drone of Cillian Murphy’s smooth, American-ized tone would mask your unbridled moans? Honestly, you couldn’t be sure—and more importantly, you couldn’t be stopped to consider for much longer. With one last trembling vibration from the shower head and a thrust from Joel, you were cumming all over again.

Squeezing his arm, sinking into his sturdy frame, clenching over his cock in what felt like a hundred convulsions, and casting caution aside, you screamed:

“DADDY!”

You might’ve blacked out for a second or two.

Even a minute, as it was, because the next intelligible thing that reached your ears was the thunder of footfalls. And the thrum of Joel’s own hammering heart as he yanked you into his chest and stilled frozen inside you.

The door swung open on its hinges so hard it hit the wall.

“What is it, sweetie?!” your dad yelped.

“I—”

“Are you hurt?”

Just fucked raw by your best friend and shaking, Pops.

You sucked in a breath when Joel nudged your head with his nose and slowly pulled the shower curtain closed to move you out of view of the camera. But it was still there.

Your dad was still there.

The shower walls seemed to be closing in on you, but somehow, you managed, “No, dad, I’m fine! Just…coulda sworn I saw another spider in here, but it was nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Your dad sounded unconvinced, pacing closer. You could’ve screamed, but Joel was likely holding you too tight to make any such sounds possible in that moment. The two of you recoiled, still stuck chest-to-back, away from the edge of the plastic shower liner when a boot thudded just outside the crack between curtain and wall.

You swallowed. Joel squeezed. Neither of you breathed.

“If it’s another roach, I gotta call the extermin—”

“No! No, it wasn’t a roach. I’m just seein’ things, I think.”

That didn’t seem to make your father feel any better, because he didn’t retreat like he had before. A tense moment fell over the compact, fog-infested room, like the man was chewing away at some thought in his head.

Then he sighed.

“Alright.”

Blissful footsteps away from the shower. You smiled.

Unfortunately, the grin was destined to be short-lived, because in the next instant, you heard boots screech to a halt on the tile. Pivoted, then paused where they stood.

Another gut-wrenching dozen seconds passed, and for one short, chilling moment, you could’ve sworn you felt your father’s gaze sear through the curtain and see you.

But he didn’t see you. Or Joel. Or anyone.

Instead, his gaze was fixed someplace else.

Suddenly, his voice rose above all the awful noises of clamor and panic in your brain, and broke out, loudly,

“What’s my camera doin’ in here?”

[stevieschrodinger]

Just imagine how put out Dustin would be. He's spent months and months working on Steve, trying to get him to come and play. It had been a personal, ongoing campaign. He used every trick and manipulation and wasn't above just outright whining about it. All he asks is Steve try it; just once.

Just imagine how put out he is when Eddie gets out of the hospital, and he asks Steve one time, and Steve says yes. But of course Dustin can't complain OUT LOUD, because he got what he wanted, didn't he? Steve's going to play.

Dustin makes this as absolutely painless as possible; Steve doesn't even see his character sheet until it's done. Dustin has him roll for stats. They talk about race and class. They talk about what skills his character should have...but he doesn't go into detail. he wants to make this fun for Steve, so he lets Steve pick whatever the hell he wants and when Steve calls his gnome Trip Hazard, Dustin doesn't even bitch about it.

Dustin corners Eddie ten minutes before their one shot starts, and explicitly tells him to let Steve get away with absolutely any and all bullshit. The goal here is that Steve comes back.

Of course Dustin has no idea that Eddie has been making heart eyes at Steve for literally years and fully intends to do that, anyway.

It's a one off, so Eddie has some fun with it. He's generous with the XP and everyone has two levels before lunch, excitedly choosing new skills and spells. After a mini boss battle they come across a hoard of treasure; some of it magical.

It's a free for all and everyone walks away with a fun new powerful toy for their character; Eddie's even pre made little cards with illustrations, descriptions, and the magical abilities of each item. He does a whole array, more than they need, but everyone gets one thing each.

Steve, hilariously, chooses a seven foot spear.

Eddie holds it together and does not laugh. He lets Steve do whatever he wants, and when Steve has a moment of madness and acts out his tiny gnome suddenly getting his spear stuck in every single doorway, everyone looses their shit.

The final battle though, that evening, rapidly because serious; an acid spewing black dragon. Everyone rolls initiative. The Dragon, with advantage, goes first, and the battle goes back and forth for several turns before, "the great beast raises itself onto it's back legs, mighty wings spread, so massive they fill the cavern," Eddie climbs up on his chair, spreading his arms demonstrably, "the dragon draws in a mighty breath...Will the Wise, your move."

The party uses their turn to attack, moving their little people on the board appropriately. Steve's turn comes and everyone looks at him..."I'll, ah, move, I think."

"Attack Steve!" Dustin encourages him.

Steve moves his little gnome, with hilariously oversized cardboard accessory, to directly in front of the dragon, the air in the room grows heavy, intent, "no attack...I set to receive a charge."

Every turns to look at Eddie, who frowns down at the map.

"It's on here," Steve volunteers the little card that came with his spear. "This counts, right? Double damage because it's magic, then setting to receive a charge is double damage again..."

Everyone looks back to Eddie again who, solemnly, frowns...then nods.

The dragon unleashes it's attack, everyone in the party taking damage. The dragon falls forward, aiming to land on all of it's feet again.

"Does that...work?" Steve asks hesitantly.

Eddie nods. The damage is so great when Dustin works it out, they have to borrow dice from Will to combine with Dustin's so Steve can roll them all together. The combination enough to fill his cupped hands.

Steve kills the dragon. Everyone is up, screaming and cheering.

Steve is the only one to notice when Eddie rolls damage; Trip Hazard is instantly killed by the crushing force of a dragons corpse.

Steve doesn't care, especially not when Eddie gets real close to whisper in his ear, "that was so fucking clever, I'm furious."

[lilywastaken]

⇝ shadow .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART TWO OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: All Simon wants is to explain his disappearance to you, but he can't really expect you to be willing to listen.

WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!), Mentions of NSFW, Angst, Pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications, Soft!Dad!Simon.

A/N: Second chapter!! Almost exactly a week after the first one LMAO. No smut in this one, I'm afraid, but some very fluffy moments between Simon and Tommy! <333 Once again, please reblog and comment if you enjoy this, it helps a lot!!!

WORD COUNT: 10k.

MASTERLIST.

Also on Ao3!

You were pretty sure your fingers were about to snap.

The grip you had on the door could rival that of a professional arm wrestler, your whole body stiff and frozen in place as your gaze locked onto Simon's.

Was it even Simon? His eyes didn't hold the same warmth it had the last time you'd seen him, his body wasn't as relaxed as it had felt beneath your touch, his whole frame covered in dark clothing that left his eyes as the only source of light that shone through that shadow of a man.

Well, you couldn't even consider them that, his blue orbs lacked that speck of light you'd grown accustomed to seeing in your son's; it left him looking like a ghost, a shell of a man. But maybe that was appropriate, he never did look like the kind of bloke you'd expect to be kind or sweet, he suited more the idea of a cold, ruthless man that had abandoned you and your son.

Even after having spent a night in his arms, felt the touch of his lips on your skin, memorised the feeling of his cock inside of you; he was still a stranger to you, a man you had idolised so much during the first days after your encounter that he had begun to form into someone completely different in your mind.

And now that he was in front of you, you knew. This wasn't the Simon from your dreams that held you in his arms, the Simon from your dreams that pressed kisses to your swollen belly whenever the baby would kick, the Simon from your dreams that hadn't left.

It was like a slap in the face.

One that brought you back to reality, that flushed away any daydream or idealised version you had of him from your mind, and forced you to focus on the man standing in front of you.

"You-"

"Did you keep it?"

As if you'd been sucker punched right in the gut, you felt the air leave your lungs, the words you had intended to speak sitting on the tip of your tongue like the bitter taste of black tea.

"It? Wh-"

"Him. Our son."

Our son.

It was funny, how he'd managed to say the two simple words that immediately made your blood boil in rage, tears forming at the corner of your eyes out of frustration as.

"Oh, so he's our son now?" You willed yourself to keep calm, but you couldn't help how your voice wavered when you spoke, this whole situation baring to be too much to handle along with your already declining mental state. "You didn't seem very interested before."

"I was gone."

"Oh, trust me, I know." You snarled, your harsh tone causing him to look away from you, whether it was in shock or fear, you didn't care. At least you couldn't feel small beneath his stare if he wasn't looking. "How long has it fucking been, Simon? A year. 9 months carrying your child and 3 months raising him. You have no fucking right to come knocking now and asking to see him."

"You don't understa-"

"I don't need to fucking understand, Simon!" You cried out, your voice ringing down the hall and in Ghost's ears, "I was alone! I am alone! I went through a terrifying pregnancy on my own because you couldn't bother to pick up the goddamn phone! Where were you when I needed you!? Where were you when the doctor told me that the birth might leave irreparable damage on my body!? Where were you when I almost lost him!?"

Silence filled the building, dull ringing in Ghost's ears from how loud you'd shouted, his gaze shifting up from the floor to you, his heart skipping a beat at your dishevelled state, your flushed face and tear stained cheeks, the hand that had been resting on the door now clenching your shirt right above your heart, as if the simple act of talking to him pained you to no end.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fucking cut it, Simon. Sorry doesn't make up for this past year, for all the fucking pain I went through while you were, what, ignoring me the whole time!? Waiting until an 'acceptable' time to show up and fucking demand to see him!?"

"I'm not demanding." You flinched as one of his hands came to slam onto the top of the door that separated the both of you, his hand clenching around the wood hard enough to break it, and you knew that if he wanted to, he could. "I'm asking. I'm asking to see him, for you to let me explain why I was gone."

Your lower lip quivered at the way he spoke, so calm and composed compared to you, who'd let your emotions take control of your words and had just

"I don't know what you went through. I don't think I'll ever be able to understand. And.. I'm, I'm sorry, that you were forced to go through it alone," The apology that slipped through his lips sounded almost forced, like it was his first time hearing and speaking the words out of his mouth. "I'm not here just to see him. I'm here because you deserve an explanation on why I wasn't here. And I know it won't take away the pain, but I ho-"

The door slammed shut.

Ghost was left outside of your apartment, hand still testing on the flimsy wood of your door, staring at the point where your eyes had been mere seconds ago.

You'd closed the door on him.

You'd ripped any chances he'd had of seeing his son and explaining himself to you in half.

He'd gone through his speech for hours in the car, making sure that he wouldn't come off as rude or mean to you, that everything was explained slowly and coherently, but you'd just… Closed the door on him.

It was a funny sight, really. A giant of a man standing in the corridor of a beat down building in the middle of Manchester, outwardly looking like a kicked puppy if it weren't for the fire that was burning inside of him, bubbling beneath his skin as he got the urge to rip the whole fucking door off just so would fucking listen to-

The door opened again, properly, this time. No little gap where he could barely see your full body, where you were able to hide from him in fear that he'd do something disastrous like he'd just been thinking of.

You were letting him in.

That much was obvious, by the way your shaking frame was glued to the wall of the small corridor, allowing him space to cross through into the apartment he'd spent the night in a year ago.

No words had to be spoken, the reluctant look on your face telling him more than enough.

The few steps he took to enter your apartment felt like crossing a border to another world, one that he couldn't recognise as much as he tried to think back to the last time he'd been there.

Everything had changed. The wallpaper with the flowers that reminded him of his grandma's old home had been striped, replaced with a more cool paint over; the dingy sofa where he'd ripped your tights open was replaced with a much more softer and plush looking model, one that could no doubt be pulled into a bed; the bookshelf he'd gotten the sticky notes from had been ridden of many of the books that had littered it, replaced with children's books and a few pictures, baby toys strewn across the floor in front of it.

It felt like a whole different place than what he remembered. He didn't know what he had expected, for you to have a child and for nothing to change? He was aware of the chaos that a child brought, remembering how annoyed he himself had been as everything started to change around him when his brother had been born, the need it brought to rearrange the whole house to accommodate the baby and not have any dangerous items lying around.

Ghost made a mental note to himself as he picked up one of the picture frames from next to the small telly to clean up his own house before bringing his son there (if he was even allowed to), recalling the dust and grime that covered the corners of his rooms, the glass shards from the last time he'd drunk and passed out on the sofa littering his floors.

You pushed the door closed behind you both, shaky hands pressing onto the cool wood in an attempt to ground yourself, trying not to focus on the silent yet imposing footsteps of your son's father.

You don't know what possessed you to open the door, to let him into your space, that he'd now taken over like a shadow. He looked so… out of place.

A demon along the angels, a ghost along the living.

His dark clothes contrasted heavily with the bright colours of your son's toys that laid strewn across the floor, with the soft colours your walls were painted in, with the colourful blankets that you'd tried spicing up the sofa with, despite no one being able to appreciate them other than you.

It didn't feel right.

It didn't feel right to have him here, walking around your home like he belonged there, like he'd been there all along. It was wrong.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, like your throat was closing off and preventing any air from reaching your lungs properly. Your nails dug into your own palms as you clenched your hands closed, trying your best to even out your breathing and focus on anything but the impending conversation you'd have to have with him.

You could hear him say something, but your brain was so caught up with trying to stop yourself from spiralling that it didn't even comprehend what he was saying. The balaclava over his face was moving, indicating that he was speaking, but not a single sound was reaching your ears.

Your body was trembling at this point, mouth gasping for air as your throat continued to constrict, your eyes going blurry with tears as you watched him come closer to you, mouth still moving.

"Breathe." Two hard hands grabbed onto your shoulders, shaking you out of your stupor bordering on what you could easily identify as a panic attack, ones that you'd been prone to ever since you gave birth. "Look at me. Breathe."

Simon immediately knew what was happening without even having to look at you.

The laboured breaths that were leaving you were enough to activate the alarms in his head, recognising them immediately. He'd heard them many times before coming from him, his teammates, the people whose heads were pressed against his gun. You were spiralling, falling into the harming grasp of your anxiety and letting it infect your body.

When he got a panic attack, Simon rode through it. The therapist that Price had assigned him a few years ago had advised him to consider doing breathing exercises whenever he showed signs of having one, but during the year he'd seen her and the years to come, not once had he considered doing them. Sometimes, he felt like he deserved to feel like that, like he was suffocating, like his heart was about to be ripped out; for all the pain and suffering he'd inflicted on others, he deserved to feel at least a sliver of it.

But the thought of letting you experience that same pain, the same panic, the same hopelessness he felt whenever he'd cave into his depression, it wasn't a good one.

So despite his initial lack of remembrance of the exercises his therapist had offered, he tried his best to talk you through it, hands grasping at your shoulders and squeezing every time he saw you start to slip away back into that pit of anxiety, keeping his eyes on yours through the whole thing, not letting you go until you'd stopped shaking and your breath had become even once again.

You'd been so focused on the anxiety coursing through your veins that you hadn't even realised who was helping you through it, blindlessly following orders and breathing along with him, your brain subconsciously recognising his voice as something to cling onto, to pull you out of your own plunging thoughts.

But as soon as you realised whose eyes you were gazing into, whose hands were holding you down, you panicked again. Your own hands came up to push him away, the action catching him off guard and making him take a few small steps back from you, eyes still fixed on yours.

"Are y-"

"Shut up." You breathed out, interrupting him for what seemed like the 100th time that night, mimicking him and taking a few steps away from him and wrapping your arms over your upper body. "Sit."

Ghost finally tore his stare away from you to look down at the sofa, hesitantly taking the first steps forward like a cat meeting its owner for the first time before finally taking a seat on the sofa, sinking into the plush pillows thanks to his weight and looking around from the new perspective.

"Do you normally have panic attacks?" He spoke up, thankful that you didn't interrupt him this time, voicing his concern.

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down at your fuzzy socks as you thought back to all the times you'd had to go through them on your own sitting at the doctor's office, lying in bed after putting Tommy to sleep, looking at yourself in the mirror after your labour…

Your doctor had warned you about the rollercoaster of emotions your body would go through after giving birth, including the depression many women suffered that unfortunately had affected you too during the first few weeks; but you hadn't expected it to continue until this late.

"...sometimes." You mumbled, hands running up and down your arms as you squirmed beneath his glare. "It's normal. For a lot of women."

He didn't answer, nodding in response instead before turning his head to the side table, where a small picture of a very tiny Tommy sat, his hand itching towards it to take it in properly.

The silence that followed what you could barely call a conversation was unbearable. The tension that hung in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, the silence almost suffocating you as you tried to muster up the courage to speak up if he wasn't going to, despite him having almost broken down your door in order to talk.

"...so? Are you going to explain?"

Simon stayed quiet, the whole speech he'd rehearsed back in his car suddenly fizzing away from his mind like a shooting star in the night sky. He was left with barely an outline of what he wanted to say, a vague idea of everything he'd tried his best to put into words before seeing you.

But actually having you in front of him, sitting on the same sofa he'd once pressed you against, gazing into the eyes he'd once thought so much about before the start of that god awful mission, made every last thread of sanity that remained in him snapped.

He was sure that without the mask he'd look like a fool, mouth slightly open and half lidded slate blue eyes fluttering with every blink, transfixed by the vision that was you, in front of him.

"Look, if you're not even going to fucking talk, you can just go right back out the fu-"

"I can't tell you exactly what happened." You stopped mid-rant, cheeks burning in embarrassment after being the one who was interrupted this time. "My job doesn't allow it."

His job? Was he really blaming everything on his job? What kind of goddamn profession forced you to go radio silent for a whole year?

"What do you work in?"

"..." Simon regarded you with a poignant sheen in his eyes, clearly at odds with deciding what to say, the truth or what he had been taught to recite in a situation like this. "I protect."

Even if he didn't outright say what his vocation was, you could do more than assume.

Protection could mean many things, like working at one of those security alarm companies to working as a bodyguard for some fancy rich guy, but with one look at the man sitting in front of you, you could tell.

And it was terrifying.

You'd assumed he was some type of bodybuilder when you'd first saw him, but as you recalled his tactical steps as he walked you down the street, the way his hand flew to his belt when you'd pass some creepy looking guy, as if he was expecting something to be hanging from there, it all started to click.

You had two options before you. He was either a fucking mercenary or military. And although both options were terrifying on their own, you hoped to whatever god that was looking down on you that it was the latter. You wouldn't know what you'd do with yourself if the father of your sweet baby boy was some type of criminal.

"You protect?" You let out, careful with your words in case you said something that you shouldn't, terrified with the prospect of him getting annoyed or angry now that you had an idea of what he did for a living.

"I protect." He parroted, lifting his hand to shove it into one of the pockets that adorned his jacket, pulling out a slim laminated piece of paper, what you could only assume was some sort of identification. "Here."

You took it hesitantly, flipping it over to scan your eyes over the confusing words that lettered the ID, mostly all words you'd never heard before in your life, but you were smart enough to grasp the concept of it.

"You work in the army?" You question, finger running over his title, repeating his newly discovered last name in your head, cursing at yourself for even thinking of how normal it would sound led by your son's name.

"SAS. Lieutenant. Can't say more than that." His gloved hand came back up to hopefully grab his ID back, but you dodged him, taking a few steps back and flipping it back over so he could see what you were pointing at.

"There's no picture." You finally referred to the black space that filled what was supposed to be a headshot of whichever soldier's ID it was. "How… how do I know this is real?"

You watched the mask move as he furrowed his eyebrows, the hand that had fallen onto his knee now gripped at the cargo pants, his eyes showing the disbelief that shot through his body.

"Y'think I made a fuckin' fake ID?" He grunted out, lifting himself from his spot on the sofa and glowering down at you, who did your best to not stand down almost immediately out of fear of his massive frame. "I don't carry 'round a picture of my face, defeats the whole purpose of my fuckin' mask."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried coming up with some type of rebuttal that would shut him right up, but you ended up once again asking another desperate question.

"That doesn't explain why you were gone."

Silence.

The crickets that sang from downstairs, the sound of the creaking from upstairs with every step one of your neighbours took, the suddenly suffocating feeling of your tiny apartment, everything seemed to increase ten fold with every second that passed.

"I can't tell you much." He leaned his head back, twisting his neck to a side to reveal some of the hair that had grown down to below his chin after a year of not properly shaving, making you look away from what almost seemed like an invasion of privacy.

"Oh, fuck you." You let out an amused scoff, unbelieving that still after everything that had happened in the short amount of time he'd been back, he still refused to say anything. "Go to hell, Simon."

"I was on a fuckin' mission. A long one. I wasn't allowed any devices, like always, so I couldn't get back to you." He looked back at you with a glare that easily rivalled yours, voice rising in volume with each word he spoke, clearly pissed off at how you were acting with him despite having tried to explain himself, but deep down he knew that it was expected from you after what you'd gone through, yet he still couldn't help but feel disappointed deep down.

"Don't raise your fucking voice at me, I'm not the one who's at blame here, Simon!" You shoved a finger into his stiff chest, doing barely as much 'damage' as you pretended to, but you did your best to get your point across.

"I'm not raising my vo-"

A high pitched cry cut through both of your raising voices, Simon's hand immediately going to his belt out of instinct while you whipped your head in the direction of Tommy's room, wincing in both fatigue and shame for having forgotten about your poor, sensitive to noises baby boy.

You put a finger up before Simon could even get the idea of heading there first, an authoritative glare on your face as you grew 10 times braver now that it came to your son's mood and well-being.

"Stay." You hissed, almost like you were reprimanding a mutt instead of a grown man. "Don't fucking follow me."

Once you were sure you'd gotten the message across, you pulled yourself away from his gaze and quickly entered your son's nursery, cooing and shushing at him as you neared his crib.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, duck, I'm sorry." You whispered, carefully picking up his fidgeting body in your arms and pressing him to your chest, rocking him as gently as you could in your told. "Mommy's sorry, she didn't mean to scare you."

His crying didn't cease, only getting louder as you desperately tried to get him to quiet down, terrified of the racket he was no doubt making for the next door neighbours, who'd probably come by tomorrow with some not very nice words.

Your hands were shaking as he still didn't calm down, a shiver running up your spine while goosebumps racked your body as you saw the light that came from the living room be blocked by a large mass of what you could only assume was Simon.

"I told you not to follow." You kept your voice small as he took slow steps towards you, not wanting to agitate Tommy even more than he already was, knowing how enervated you'd be in the morning if that was the case.

"I want to see him."

You bit down on your tongue before you shot out a snappy response, realising that this was not the time nor the place for snarky comments, as much as you wanted Simon to finally get a hint and leave you both alone.

"You haven't even told me his name."

Screwing your eyes closed, you pressed Tommy to your chest a bit tighter, both to calm the two of you down and in an attempt of caging him away from the shadow of a man towering behind you.

"You never asked for it." You felt him stop behind you as you spoke, his eyes staring holes into the back of your head, as if that would finally get you to move so he could see his son.

He stayed silent once again, looking over every single detail in the nursery, from the row of knitted stuffed animals to the plastic fluorescent stars stuck to the ceiling above the crib, eyes trailing over the bookcase that looked a bit too unstable for his liking, the screws too loose to be holding up all that weight properly.

"Did you build these yourself?" Simon watched you turn your head over your shoulder to see what he was referring to, glowering at him crossly as you looked over the furniture.

"Didn't have anyone else to do it, did I?" You snapped, going back to the crying baby in your arms as he continued to look around, gloved fingers running over some of the spines of the books that laid on the shelves, recognising some of them from his own childhood bookshelf.

"You still don't believe me, d'you?"

A beat.

The finalising sound of his footsteps exiting the room made a weight you hadn't realised was pressing on your chest dissipate out of relief, only to come back heavier than ever as he pushed the duffle bag he'd been carrying towards you with his foot.

You looked down at the spilling contents tentatively, almost worried that there was some type of danger in there that would force you to take cover or cower in a corner, but all you found were military pants and clothes, a gun hidden in its holster, and in the hand that slowly appeared in the corner of your vision, dog tags.

"Look." He brought them up closer to your face so you'd be able to see even in the dim lighting that came from the fluorescent stars stuck on the ceiling and the small nightlight, the name engraved in it identical to the one you'd found on the ID. And although most IDs were pretty easy to fake, you were pretty sure dog tags like these weren't. They had the SAS' inscription on them along with a few codes and numbers you were too ignorant about the army to understand; but for all you knew, they could be as fake as the ones some men wore as fashion.

Maybe that still wouldn't have been enough, if it weren't for the gun. England was very strict with gun laws, and the only people you'd ever seen handle one were the police and the military. So he'd either gotten one very illegally or was truly who he said he was.

And as much as you wanted it to all be fake, for him to be the random bloke you'd had sex with that had no connections to anything dangerous, you knew it wasn't. It was blatantly obvious now that he'd laid down everything in front of you like a puzzle, he was telling the truth.

And god, how much you hated it. You hated that the so-called excuse he'd used before was close to being set in stone by now, that everything was falling into place.

"They're real. I promise."

His promises meant nothing to you, and he knew that, but he had to try anything he could for you to finally believe him, to pull down the walls you'd built and let him in.

"..." You looked away from him and his outstretched hand, pulling your still weeping baby closer to you as you debated on what to do, mind torn between two headspaces.

A shaky sight left your lips as he finally started to tone down, his small pudgy hands grabbing at your sweater in an attempt to ground himself, to find a smell and feel he knew brought safety.

"...his name's Tommy."

You felt him freeze behind you, the aura around him growing cold almost immediately, like you'd just blatantly insulted him without any remorse.

"Tommy." He echoed, voice scratchy as if he was dying of thirst, body suddenly feeling like it had been dunked under tiding waves. "Why?"

"Why?" It was your turn to repeat what he'd said, turning around fully and allowing him the first proper look at his infant son.

Any feeling of displeasure or uncomfort left Simon's body as his eyes landed on the small boy whose teary eyes were trained on his mother's, soft hands clinging onto her like all hell would break loose if he weren't, pudgy body wrapped up in soft blanket decorated with a tiny duck print, the animal something he'd heard you refer to him as before.

God, he wasn't even listening anymore, too enamoured with the small being that lied in your arms, his hands itching towards him in hopes of taking him in his own.

His stomach sank as you stepped back in tandem with him, shielding Tommy from him like he was a monster.

"I, uhm…" you looked up at him through glassy eyes, clearly having been taken aback by his sudden advance towards you both, ending with you pressed against the wooden crib's side. "I didn't really think about it. It just… felt right. It sounded nice. There isn't really any… meaning behind it, as far as I know."

And that was true, as far as you knew, Tommy was just one of the names you'd underlined in one of the many baby name books your mother had brought over with her. But for Simon, it was oh so much more than that. It brought back memories that he hadn't thought about in a very long time, including those rough times he'd spent cooped up in that godforsaken house trying his best to take care of the only family he had left.

And although he hadn't heard from his brother in a long while, he couldn't help but feel slightly hollow at the simple thought of him, who now unknowingly shared his name with his new nephew.

"...right." Despite everything that was whirling around in his brain, every single memory and doubt he wished he could share without destroying himself inside out, that single word of confirmation was the only thing he could get out.

Tommy let out a whine, small hand tugging at your shirt as he instantly pulled your attention back to him, small body fidgeting in your hold in a way that would make you drop him if you weren't used to his urge to not stay still.

"Yeah, I get it, duck." You said, balancing him carefully in the crook of one of your arms before picking up the half-empty bottle you'd placed next to the crib, knowing he'd wake up within the little time the milk could sit out and demand to be fed with his startling cries. "It's here, don't worry. You're not going to starve."

Simon watched from the shadows as your son immediately latched on to the bottle, acting like he'd been starved for over a week, when his last feeding session had been barely an hour ago.

"He's very greedy." You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but looked up at Simon as he let out a humoured exhale.

"Most babies are." He said, remembering how needy his own little brother was when it came to feeding, whining and screaming until everyone in the house had woken up.

Silence fell upon the room, the only conceivable sound in the house being the sound of Tommy drinking and the soft jingle of the crib mobile whenever a soft gust of wind came through the parted window.

For the first time in the hour Simon had been back in your life, you felt calm. Your heartbeat had come down to a normal rate, your body had stopped jolting and shaking every now and then, and there was a small smile tugging at your lips as you watched your son cling to the bottle in your hands.

Even Simon's presence had stopped putting you on edge, since now he was just silently gazing down at his son, who's eyes were fixed back on his father's, almost like they were both having a staring contest, and it was unclear who was about to win.

Tommy normally bursted into tears when he was near a stranger, too many new scents and sounds around him since he was used to the calmer and soother environment that was his nursery, so apart from the short strolls you'd take down the streets, he barely went out with you, and when he did, he didn't get to met many new people. You remember how embarrassed you'd been when one of your neighbours had come by to help with fixing a light and Tommy had started bawling at the mere sight of the unfamiliar man standing in the doorway.

So it was a bittersweet surprise when you realised he must've taken an instinctual liking to his father, despite not properly having the brain capacity to regard him as such, and although you'd have plenty of time to go over that later, for now, you were relieved that he hadn't turned to wailing as loud as he could and bursting all three of your eardrums (although if Simon did work in what he said he did, you were sure he'd be used to loud noises by now).

"How d'you pay for all this?"

"What?" You said, the calm expression that had graced your face quickly forming back into the pissed one he'd gotten so used to seeing in the past hour, the innocent yet aggravating question instantly spoiling your mood. "What do you fu- what do you mean?"

"The furniture, the clothes, the nappies." He nodded towards every single thing he listed, only adding onto your annoyance even more. "Where d'you work?"

You snapped your head down to Tommy in order to avoid his damaging questions, meeting the cute scene of your son fast asleep, probably having passed out after such a long staring contest with his dad and finally having a full belly. You ignored the weight of your impending answer as you placed him down carefully back into his crib, letting his chubby cling onto your fingers for a bit before slowly wrenching his grip off, turning back around to his father.

"I don't work. Not anymore." You kept your voice hushed, picking up the empty baby bottle along with a bag of dirty nappies, standing next to the doorway until he got the memo to walk out before you. "Got fired from the bar cause I was too distracted and I messed a lot of things up…. Had to use my savings to pay for everything during my pregnancy."

He watched you walk around the kitchen and put everything away like it was routine, like it was some sort of art that you'd perfected, while thinking over the information he'd just received from you.

He felt horrible. The mere thought of you, pregnant and alone with no job able to support you, working on the crib and nursery on your own was enough to tear his cold heart in two. And he didn't even want to think about how much money you had left, which by the sight of the very expensive-looking cot and all the toys that laid strewn across the bedroom floor, wasn't much.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back onto one of the walls and thought about the next words that were going to leave his mouth, the next words that would either end up with you both growing closer together or you continuing to push him away.

"Let me help you."

You stopped dead in your tracks while rearranging one of the cupboards, turning around with a look of disbelief painted on your face, beyond bewildered at what he was even starting to proffer.

"Help me?"

Simon had more money than he knew what to do with. Albeit, a small part of it was sent to his brother and his family at the end of every few months, he was still left with a huge amount of money he didn't really know what to spend it on apart from on the bottles of alcohol that littered the floor of his apartment.

But now that he'd learned about his own family, seen the state your flat was in despite you trying to save face by decorating it as much as you could, about as much information as you had given out about your financial situation, he finally knew what to do with all that money that was left over.

"Help you. Financially. Tommy's my son too." Simon raised a gloved hand up as he watched your mouth open, immediately shutting you up like a teacher would a student. "As much as you want to deny it, s'true. And I'm going to help you." His finger landed on the small island counter, accentuating his point with every word he spoke. "Whether you like it or not."

Now, you'd be bellow stupid to even refuse an offer like this (even though he'd made it quite clear it wasn't an offer, more like an insistence), especially since your bank account was quickly reaching negative numbers with every day that passed, not a lot of jobs being open to a new mother who'd either have to take her baby everywhere or leave between shifts to take care of him (and a nanny was of course out of the question, with what money would you pay them?); and pushing aside your still initial distrust towards him, you couldn't say no to him. Both, because he wouldn't let you and because you needed the help, as much as you didn't want to admit it.

Very deep down, you wanted to say no, to push him out of the flat like you should've done when he had first taken a step inside, that he'd had his chance with both Tommy and you and that his bloody stupid excuses weren't going to work… but god, would you have been a moron to even consider letting those words leave your mouth.

You closed the cabinet shut, turning around to face him properly despite the absolute nerves that were coursing through your body, looking out the window across from you instead of at the imposing figure of the man standing before you.

"Simon, I… Look, just…." You tried changing subject, grasping at straws in order to keep yourself from falling to your knees and thanking him for helping you, to break down again like you'd done within the first quarter hour of seeing him again. "...thank you."

He didn't reply, only nodding in response as he turned away from you, letting you stare at his back as he cocked his head to a side to subtly look into Tommy's room, your small baby boy still fast asleep with his clingy hands holding onto one of the many toys you'd placed in there for him to stay entertained with.

"It's, uhm… it's getting quite late." You pointed out as you looked back out the window, rain pattering against your window as another one of England's classic showers hit your city, your arms wrapping around your torso and running your hands up and down the exposed skin. "How about we just… call it a day and talk about it tomorrow?"

Simon grunted, shrugging his shoulders like he really didn't care, but before you had chance to comment on it, he spoke over his shoulder, his head tilted in a way that the shadows curved around the balaclava covering up his face, his blue eyes slightly brighter than when he'd first shown up.

"I've got some stuff to attend to tomorrow." He muttered, nodding towards the duffle bag that he'd brought out with him when you'd both left the nursery, indicating that he wasn't fully finished with work. "It'll be a while 'till I'm able to just sit down with you."

God, you hated how much fear that single sentence struck in you. Like almost the thought of him leaving for more than a day after finally showing up and explaining everything to you was enough to raise up the anxiety that wrapped around your chest and travelled across every single nerve in your system.

So fucking pathetic. You thought to yourself before looking over at the sofa, the new one you'd bough and arranged yourself a few months into your pregnancy, when you were barely showing and could still handle physical work like that; remembering how much the salesman had insisted on that the pullout was the best option for when you had guests over, it was moderately comfy and big enough to fit up to two people.

And Simon kind of… He kind of counted for two people, right? With that bloody stature of his and his darned accentuated muscles you'd been so in awe of that fateful night.

"You can just take the sofa for tonight. Then we can talk in the morning before you leave." Your mouth acted faster than your brain did, but this time, you didn't really feel embarrassed or disappointed in yourself, I mean, it was the logical solution to this sort of problem. He'd made it quite clear that he wanted to be in his son's life, so if that was true, you'd have to get used to him being around you, invading the safe space you'd worked so hard to create for you and your son, as much as it tore your body and mind apart thanks to your mixed feelings about him.

"You sure?" He pushed himself off the doorframe which he'd been leaning on, getting back to his full height so he could tower over you, glancing at the tiny sofa. "You think I'll fit?"

"It pulls out." Unlike you. "You'll fit."

Once again, it seemed that he couldn't even get the words out to thank you, nodding in response before turning back to look at his sleeping son in the nursery's background. You pushed past him to get to the cupboard that sat in the corner, rummaging through it for some relatively clean and warm blankets, keeping an ear out just in case decided to walk a bit too close to Tommy, still a bit on edge when it came to him spending time around your son.

"D'you have a balcony I can use?" He cut through the silence, dangling a packet of cigarettes in front of your face to make his advances clear.

Although you weren't a chronic smoker yourself, you had indulged in a cig once in a while, and you knew that it sometimes did help soothe your anxiety or stress, and by the looks of how Simon was fidgeting in his spot and his fingers were clearly itching towards the lighter in his pocket, it was quite clear he was in need of one.

"I don't. Use the window furthest from Tommy's room." You pointed out of the room towards the window you'd been staring out of before. You watched him stroll out, opening up the window and letting in a gust of cold wind in the process, making you speed up your work so you could close the door faster and Tommy wouldn't get a chill.

"You can't smoke around Tommy, you know that, right? If you're really going to be in his life, I'm going to need you to quit while you're here." You commented as you placed down the blankets onto an armchair before moving onto the sofa bed itself, removing some of the cushions before resuming.

"'lright." He muttered between a few inhales of the smoke, his voice much clearer now that he'd pulled his mask up to his nose, letting you gaze upon the beard that had grown over his lower face, something that hadn't been there before. But you assumed that a year-long mission wouldn't really allow you to take time to shave. "Jus' really needed this."

"I get it." You grunted as you grabbed onto the flimsy handle at the bottom and pulled out the second part of the sofa's mattress, almost landing on your behind if it weren't for one of Simon's hands on the small of your back, helping you regain your balance before he went back to taking puffs of his cigarette next to the window.

Soon enough, Simon's cigarette burnt down to a stub, flicking it out the window and down onto the concrete below, turning back around to where you were finishing up what would be his bed tonight, tucking in some of the ends of the sheets and stuffing pillows into covers.

"Here." He spoke, his voice back to being muffled as he pulled the mask back down, taking the pillow from your hands and pushing it into the cover without any effort.

"Pillows might be a bit stiff. These are really old." You didn't even bother thanking him, taking the pillows and fluffing them up to the best of your ability, before propping them up on the armrest. "Do you want to, uhm." You gestured towards the black smudged paint around his eyes. "Clean up?"

"It's fine. I've slept worse."

He started to pull off his jacket, his shirt going with it for a moment and exposing his midriff and happy trail, immediately snapping your head away from the sight.

That's how Simon ended lying on the pretty well made sofa, shoes and jacket discarded next to him with a thin blanket draped over his tired body, balaclava still resting over his face despite being plunged in the darkness that was broken whenever a car passed by outside or by the soft glow of his son's fluorescent stars that decorated his ceiling.

Simon was aware of how long he'd gone without having a good night's sleep, that he should at least try to catch a few minutes of sleep at best, but he couldn't find the energy to even close his eyes. He knew that after such a long and exciting mission his body had to come down from it slowly, taking a few days of getting used to the sudden serenity that enveloped him before he could fully relax and find some sleep.

And so he lied there, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling and listening to the snores that came from his son's room and the shuffling and incoherent murmurs that came from yours, the constant affirmation that you both were fine enough of a substitute for the sleep he was missing.

And he was… content like that, for a while. Listening to the both of you sleep and tapping his fingers against his chest in an attempt to ground himself and to shove away any unwanted thoughts that would forcibly make their way into his already broken mind.

Until one of the cars outside backfired, a sound Simon had gotten used to after driving all those barely working cars they'd find in the way during missions, producing a sound that echoed throughout the living room, making Simon instinctively flinch, his fingers gripping down on the blanket hard enough to rip it, not having expected to hear a sound so akin to a bomb or a grenade while he was lying down calmly near his newfound family.

Fuck, he was pathetic. It was horrible how such an innocent sound made his instincts go haywire, his skin prickle with goosebumps and his heart skip a beat.

But clearly, as Tommy's cries rang out through the flat, he hadn't been the only one to be disturbed.

"Fuck." The blanket pooled down onto the floor next to his discarded clothes, pushing himself off the sofa and passing by your bedroom, where you were still presumably sleeping, your body wriggling beneath the covers as your brain attempted to keep you asleep.

You'd mentioned that Tommy had gone down easily this time, so it was relatively early for yourself to go to bed, and he'd heard you mutter to yourself as you climbed into bed that you were going to enjoy your rest, so staying on the sofa and waiting for you to wake up, was not going to happen, especially after all the trouble he'd gone through with convincing you to let him in Tommy's life.

This was part of being a father, a parent, waking up at ungodly hours of the night to take care of your fussing baby.

He carefully made his way towards Tommy's crib, removing his gloves in order to not scare him with an unknown touch, although he doubted that his calloused fingers would be any better substitute.

"S'alright." He murmured, a finger softly prodding at his chubby belly in order to catch his attention, the boy's wails only getting louder as he caught sight of his father's skulled balaclava. "Oh, fu- Look, hey, look at me."

Without any hesitation, Simon ripped off his mask, his hair getting messed up in the process but he couldn't care less, only focused on getting his son to recognise him as a human man and not the goddamn grim reaper who'd come for him.

Tommy sniffled as he toned down the fussing, blue eyes darting all over his father's face as if committing it to memory, chubby fingers leaning down to grab at the one Simon had woken him up with, and much like he did with any other thing he found lying around, shoved it right in his mouth, drooling around it.

A breathless chuckle escaped Simon's mouth as he watched him roll and fuss around his finger, resting his other arm on the crib and lying his head against it, transfixed with the sight of his small son.

A few tears were still running down his chubby cheeks, but he seemed to have calmed down now, Simon's finger acting like some sort of replacement for the pacifier that laid abandoned next to him.

"C'mon. Stop cryin'." He grumbled, pulling his finger out of his grasp and placing his large hands beneath Tommy's small body, carefully picking him up (making sure to support his little head like he'd seen you do) and propping him up in the crook of his arm, letting him squirm around for a bit until he found the perfect position. "You're a wriggly one aren't you?"

As expected, he didn't get any response apart from the thousand yard stare his son looked up at him with, similar to the one he occasionally gave Johnny to watch him freak out. Now that he did look at him closely, he could pinpoint how many features he'd inherited from his father's side, his shaggy hair, his blue eyes, his slightly crooked nose, even the chubby rolls and fingers he remembered seeing in his little brother.

"That's a boy." Tommy's eyes started to droop with every second he spent lying in his father's arms, his tears drying out and coos leaving his mouth instead of the agonising cries. "Feelin' better?"

He blindly walked over to the small chair he'd spotted in the corner of the room when he'd first walked in, grunting like his grandfather did as he sat down, careful to not squish or drop Tommy in the process, his hands tightening around him as the chair slightly reclined, the chair's feature catching him off guard and instantly activating the instinct to protect the small human in his arms that depended on him.

But Tommy didn't even flinch, giggling at the warmth that enveloped him and snuggling further into the blanket and his father's arms in the process, eyes still fixed on the dark paint that adorned his father's.

Finally, after their second staring match of the night, Tommy's eyelids finally closed, losing the battle and falling prey to sleep, something Simon silently wished he could too. Resting him in one arm, he pulled his balaclava back down, feeling a bit too exposed now that the need to have it off had ceased. He leaned his head back on the rest and stared up at the dim glowing stars, focusing on the steady breaths that racked his son's tiny body and the faint feeling of his heartbeat against his arm.

He could… he could really get used to this.

Having such a small thing in his arms, something he was responsible for, something he was supposed to love and care for, a purpose to continue the dangerous life he'd thrusted himself in. He was a father now. And although he knew barely nothing about being one, he'd learn. He hoped it wasn't a one time thing and that Tommy had truly taken a liking to him, that he was going to be able to take at least a bit off the load that you carried by helping in whatever way he could, whether it was bonding with his on or simply financially if that's all you wished of him.

He was a bit too lost in his thoughts as he reclined further in the plush chair, pressing Tommy to his chest so he was half lying on him, half still resting in his arms, a pretty comfortable position for the both of them.

"-mon."

"Simon!"

The blond was jolted awake by a pair of hands shaking him, his immediate instinct being to search around for the baby he remembered falling asleep with, blurry vision darting around to find him cooing and gurgling in your arms, hands latched onto your sleep shirt.

He turned to look out the window while cracking his neck, disoriented and confused about what time it was, the subtle sun rays that shone through the clouds and into the nursery telling him enough.

Had he fallen asleep? Like, actually slept for over an hour without waking up or any disturbances?

"'m sorry." His voice was deeper after a good night's rest, you noted as he rubbed his eyes with the bottom of his palm in an attempt to clear the blurriness, choosing to ignore the click of your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "Time?"

"'bout eight." You said, bouncing Tommy in your arms as you nodded towards the clock that hung up above him, eyes darting back down to see him hunched over, hands beneath his balaclava rubbing away the sleep in his eyes and no doubt spreading the face paint everywhere. "Tommy needs to have breakfast so I just assumed you'd want to be woken up as well. But, you're, uhm, welcome to sleep longer, I guess."

"No, I'm fine. I have to get up." Within a second, he was at his feet, Tommy staring up at him in awe as if he were gazing upon a giant, one of his chubby hands leaving your shirt to try and grab onto his, but Simon had left before he could even make first contact.

"You stayed here to talk, remember?" You said snappily at him as you followed, watching him pick up all his stuff. "We should talk."

His shoulders deflated mid tying his boot, a solemn nod in response like even talking to you was a chore, and after the night you'd had the day before, any little irritating thing like that was going to be enough to set you off.

"I want to be a part of Tommy's life. I've made that clear."

"I know. And that's… fine. But we're going to need boundaries."

He sighed, turning around with his other boot dangling from his hand, leaning his side on the wall opposite what had been supposed to be his bed for the night (the horror you'd felt when you saw him gone and your son's door open was unmeasurable), and nodding once again, eyes looking down at you expectantly.

Oh. Right. You were the one speaking.

"Well, for starters… if you really can't tell me more about your job than you already have, I want you to at least keep me updated whenever you leave for work. I.. I don't want any more surprises."

I don't want to feel the way I felt during that year again.

"Alright."

You nodded, pulling Tommy closer as he became enamoured with the necklace that dangled from your neck, trying his mighty best to pull the charm in his mouth as you talked. "And, if you stay over, you take the couch. And not taking Tommy out without me. Until… further notice." You feared you were being a bit too strict with him, but simply reminding yourself that this was in fact, basically a stranger who just happened to father your child, and you'd have to take preventive measures until you were sure that you could leave Tommy alone with him.

Simon ignored the slight pain that stabbed at his heart when you said that, but… it was understandable. You'd been with Tommy longer than him, hell, you'd carried him for a whole 9 months, you had a stronger bond with your son than he had. For both of your safety and his, he'd go along with anything you'd say.

After agreeing with a simple nod and finishing tying up his shoes, he walked up to you both, fingers brushing against your clavicle as he pulled your necklace out of Tommy's mouth, blue eyes fixated on yours. "Send me your bank details later. I'll deposit some money for you both. As much as you need."

He hesitated a few moments before pulling his fingers away, instead running them down Tommy's nose bridge before pulling away, pulling a giggle out of him.

"O-okay."

He nodded, leaning down to zip up his duffle bag before strapping it over his shoulder, jacket in his other arm since it was relatively warm outside for a morning in Manchester. "Text me if y'need anything. I'll answer this time… I promise."

You winced, the subject of his disappearance still a touchy matter despite everything you'd both discussed the night before, but by the way he hesitated before speaking, the way he was awkwardly standing in the main corridor, he was either very obviously lying or telling the truth.

You hoped it was the latter.

"...okay. Goodbye, Simon."

The moment the door opened, the doorbell rang out, making you and Tommy flinch at the loud sound and Simon grumble at being the main victim of the ringer.

Your neighbour was standing there, finger on the bell, furrowed eyebrows glaring up at the intimidating man.

"Good morning?" You poked your head around Simon's large frame, Tommy hiding his face in the crook of your neck as if able to sense the confrontation about to happen. "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, no. Sorry, just. I think I speak for everyone in this building that we'd appreciate it if you'd keep that baby o'yours quiet once in a while. Barely gotten any sleep these days 'cause of his bloody crying." He frowned, glaring down at the baby in question, as if he was truly to blame for something he was barely able to control. Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, having remembered that you'd already expected this last night when Tommy had burst into tears the first time, and then the second time when you were asleep.

"Right, I'm s-"

"Babies cry." Ghost interrupted, glare fixed on the man in front of you both, hand tightening around the doorframe much like when he'd been trying to convince you to let him in. "Y'can't really help it."

"Well you can shut him up-"

"And we did. Wondering if I'm going to need to do the same to you." He said gruffly, almost puffing his chest out of pride when he saw the man's colour drain from his face. It was a bit of a shitty rebuttal, in hindsight, but when it came from the beast of a man that he was, it was enough to make a grown man like the one in front of him piss his pants. "'m I?"

"N-no, sir."

"Sorted." He watched the neighbour scurry off back into his apartment like a bug of sorts, turning back to you with an amused glint in his normally inexpressive eyes. "Bother you often?"

"Yeah." You said breathlessly, actually impressed with how quickly he'd been able to get rid of him, like your own personal pest exterminator. "Thank you."

"He won't anymore." He stepped out into the hall, sparing you and your son one last glance before awkwardly lifting his hand up in an attempt to say goodbye, Tommy immediately trying to reach over to him with a plump hand, fingers flexing as if trying to use the force to pull his dad back.

"He'll be back, duck, don't worry… he's not leaving."

Ghost pressed the button to the elevator, willing himself enough strength to not turn around immediately at the sounds of his soon cooing and whining at him, the soft words you spoke plunging a spear into his cold heart.

He'd be back. He promised.

TAGLIST: @selfassassin @ess-perspective-blog @crazyfandomist @webreathfandoms @warners-wife @prodyng @gaycrystalbitch @warrior-of-justice @uhhely @mentallynot-here @jordanwalkersworld @skepticalleo @bratsukisworld @screamingoverfiction @comedinewithmeyeh @gojosbucket @mikasakuchiki @jonhswife @tea-effect @thelittlejinx @cafesho @daddylorianisastateofmind @63sucker (if your name is in italics it means I couldn't tag you!)

[tthoughtdaughter]

bad habits.

pairing: dealer!ellie x reader.

summary: when you were a kid you had always put a pillow or a big stuffed animal between your legs, you honestly felt comfort by it. but tonight you decided it was going to be somebodies head.

warnings: uh widely ellie giving head?, use of drugs, girls kissing 🤯, swearing, a little bit of dacryphilia, pretty self-indulgent i know its weird im sorry — MINORS DNI !!

a/n: just because the strikes ended does not mean you shouldnt stop posting about palestine!

———————

you were helpless, depressed even. being locked up in your dorm for god knows how long. your friends had been nagging you about various parties on campus, you simply just left them on read, not wanting to deal with the aftermath of the party.

it wasnt until now that you had decided to go. not because you wanted to, you were going against your own will.

your friends, isabella, mattie and thea were forcing you out of your dorm because the state you were in right now was just honestly disgusting.

you were packing a bag to go over to isabellas house because they werent letting you stay in that dorm for a minute more, when thea said. “youve been stuck in here for forever, we havent seen you in awhile, we miss you girl.”

you sighed, reaching over to your closet to find an outfit appropriate for tonight. “look i know, things just havent been the best right now.” you didnt bother to look back because you know all thats going to be written on their faces will be pity.

“can you guys help me pick an outfit atleast?” they squeal, marching over to you before yanking you out of their ways.

mattie held up a dress, it was pink, delicate, something you would were on a picnic.

“dude, thats so basic.” isabella called out from the side, rolling her eyes at matties choice.

“i dont wear stuff like this— how would i fucking know?” she huffed.

“calm down guys, why dont we let ms depresso give us an idea of what she wants?” thea shouts over the teo annoyingly loud girls.

“i— depresso? seriously? not even funny.” you roll your eyes before pulling up pinterest on your phone, you always managed to find decent outfits off of the app.

you typed in ‘party outfits aesthetic.’ before you landed on something similar you had in your closet.

the outfit had a mini, mini, mini, mini black skirt paired with a black lettuce-cut, corset bralette looking thingy and just below that, knee-high boots. you admit it, you looked hot as fuck.

“damn girl, if i were gay id definitely hit you up.” way to go isabella, way to go.

“oh please youre totally into girls, youre acting like you dont eye that dina girl everytime we walk around her area on campus.” mattie adds.

isabella did everything in her will power to ignore the comment, but she couldnt help but blush.

the look of approval shot around the room was hilarious and you all burst out into laughter. you really havent felt this good in awhile.

quickly memorising the girl mattie had mentioned before, you could remember she would always be hanging around with someone else.

“hey, any of you know the girl dina hangs with? i cant think of her name.” you think hard, like really hard, you knew the girl was attractive from all the times you had seen her since isabella coincidentally hung there too.

“yeah, her names ellie, i buy from her sometimes. why, you got the hots for her?” thea teases.

“just shut up and give me her insta.” you roll your eyes, playfully shoving the girl as the two others made ‘oooooh’ sounds.

“fine, just give me a second.” thea whips out her phone and starts going through her following. she clicks on a profile and holds the phone up to you so you could get a good look.

her account was private, by the looks of it she had a batman smoking weed profile picture? interesting.. her user was ‘@ellieisawesome327.’

sounds like a name some 5 year old would put on secretly. “oh, interesting.” you couldnt help but giggle, she obviously wasnt the best at using this stuff.”

you pulled out your phone and searched for her user, you didnt follow it just yet, you thought it would be creepy since she didnt know you at all. you simply just kept the name in the search bar, ready for when you actually want to follow her.

———————

a few hours had passed and you all had gotten done up, makeup, hair, outfits, everything you would do before a party.

“whos car we taken’?” mattie asked. you and the others looked at her like she was some idiot.

“theres only one car in the driveway, take a guess numbskull?” thea pointed out, mattie pouted.

“rude.” she huffed. turning around to scroll on tiktok.

you were sitting on the bed, getting comfy since the party wasnt for another hour, when you spotted one of isabellas pillow. you had put it between your legs, you found some comfort in doing that ever since you were a kid, it was a weird and bad habit.

“whatre ya’ doin silly?” isabella pointed out, she sort of new you had this weird habit of putting things between your legs.

“getting comfy, what does it look like?” you roll your eyes, scrolling through your instagram feed.

“if you actually want something between your legs, try and get head tonight.” isabella added. it was a harmless joke, your group had always joked like this. you toned out the muffled giggles in the back thinking if you should actually get laid tonight.

it had been awhile since you had had sex, and it was getting annoying hearing everyones ‘wild’ stories.

you tool the pillow out from between your legs and threw it back into its position it was in before.

“you guys think we should get going? the parties in twenty minutes.” thea said. you all nodded and got up from your positions to march off to the car.

the drive was ten minutes, you put on your group playlist, it was made for roadtrips you guys took every once and awhile. but tonight you just needed to hear something other then their voices.

you were all vibing to the music when it eventually came to a stop. you sighed and got out of the car, shivering as the cold wind hit your very exposed body.

everyone walked in, it wasnt exactly packed, but you hesitated and mattie noticed that.

mattie was the average femme grouped masc. the one to carry around the shopping bags when you went shopping kind of girl. she was sweet, there were times where you had found yourself harmlessly crushing over her. she knew you had a bit of anxiety and offered you some of her meds before leaving but you kindly declined.

now obviously regretting your decision, she gripped onto your hand and squeezed it tight, for reassurance. you smiled and walked in with the others.

———————

it had been 2 hours and the group had split, isa probably off eating dinas face off, mattie chatting with some of the guys from a basketball team she had played against when faking being a guy as a dare, and thea off buying or even selling drugs. you were sat on a dusty old couch, not exactly wasted but definitely not sober.

you hadnt noticed you were sitting next to the girl whos instagram you were stalking earlier. but the realisation hit when you smelt weed from her direction.

she was very obviously eye fucking you, she wasnt even shy about it, it couldve been the weed that was in her system or she was wildly bold.

“hey?” you started off your soon long to be conversation.

“hi.” she was caught off guard when she realised you were talking to her.

“ellie right?” she nodded and you exchanged your name to her, along with numbers. you sat back further into the couch, parting your legs a little giving her a slight view of what was under you skirt. you enjoyed the fact that she was looking. a little smirk appeared on your face and she didnt notice it.

“my friend thea buys from you right?” she snapped her head up to look into your eyes. you noticed the green in her eyes under the blue hue of the lights in the room. she nodded,

“yeah why? wanna buy from me?” you shook your head.

“kinda tight on money right now, i would though.” you sighed, resting your head on your hand.

she thought for a minute. “ill share a blunt with you, only coz’ youre cute.” she winked and you blushed.

“oh, thanks..” you stare off awkwardly waiting for her to light it, she was wondering if she made you uncomfortable.

“s—sorry, didnt mean to make you uncomfortable.” you shook your head a smiled before she handed you the joint.

you took a puff and handed it back to her, waiting a bit before exhaling. you noticed she was manspreading. then you noticed she didnt quite look like any other girls that were at the party, very masculine. is she lesbian? no surely not, maybe she just likes being comfortable.

ellie was wearing a worn-out jacket, joels. she wore it everywhere she went.

she caught you staring at the position she was in, fighting the urge to spread them further. you noticed she was holding back from something and looked up at her, oh shit she caught you.

a shit eating grin was plastered on her face. “you ‘kay?” she asked, the same smug expression written all over her face.

you nodded and took the blunt out of her hand. you were blushing under the dim lights in the corner, the rest of the place was filled with colourful lights changing every second.

she started blushing too, she didnt know why. you looked up to her with parted lips. the high kind of kicking in now.

“can i.. kiss you?” you asked softly. you regretted that so hard, fuck fuck fuck she probably doesnt like girls..

she moved closer, draping a hand over your shoulder. “thought youd never ask.” she smirked before smashing her lips onto yours.

the kiss was hungry, like she was desperate for something, you couldnt quite place your tongue on it. the only thing placed on your tongue right now was hers. you kissed her back with just as much passion.

the moans you let out were absolutely pornographic. ellie knew she had to do something about this, stopping the kiss whilst you let out a whine from the lack of attention.

you were borderline wet, like waterpark wet, and it wasnt helping that you were wearing a flimsy skirt that had rode up in the process.

“cmon’ princess.” she took your hand, you felt a bit clumsy for some reason, dizzy, your head was foggy, only thinking about how good she tasted.

you followed her around as she knocked on various locked rooms. finally breaking one open, she slammed it shut, locking it and pressing you up against it. not to hard though, wouldnt wanna hurt your pretty little head.

“fuck, youre so goddamn hot.” she mumbled between kisses. you couldnt help but moan at how turned on she made you feel.

she pushed her knee up between your thighs and you shivered, grinding down onto it. chasing the very needed friction.

you wondered how such an innocent question like ‘can i kiss you?’ turned into you riding on her knee.

“els’, please..” that shit eating grin reappeared on her face and you just wanted to smack it right off, you rolled your eyes. your words and wetness only boosted her ego more.

“please what baby?” she teased. why was she teasing you? you couldnt take it. tears started bubbling in your eyes.

“please just— fuck me.” you mumble out. she liked the sight of you crying, so desperate for her. she was going to tease you more before you actually got what you wanted.

“what was that?” she smirked.

you looked up at her through teary eyes. “can you, uh— go down on me? please?” you were begging, that was a sight.

she pulled you over to the bed, through the dimly light room. “strip.”

you did as she said, it wasnt hard to take off your clothes since there was barely anything on you. first your top, leaving you in a skimpy black lacy bra to match your underwear. then came the boots and skirt.

finally, leaving you in a two piece set. she was waiting patiently for you to take them off. you dont know why you were so hesitant, maybe it was because you hadnt done this in awhile, or maybe it was because her stare was so intense it made your stomach do flips, distracting you from the easy task.

she walked over to help you since you couldnt finish what you had started. “d’ you want this?” you nodded painfully slow.

she peeled off your underwear, holding them up to get a good look before back down to your now bare cunt. it was dripping at the sight of her.

“s’ wet for me princess.” she smirked once more, if she smirked anymore her face would probably get stuck like that.

then came the bra, she asked you to turn around so she could unclip it, she was slightly struggling since she wasnt used to these fancy bras, only because she wears a sports bra.

you giggled and reached your arms behind you to take it off, turning around to leave her ogling at the sight of you.

“youre so beautiful.” you blushed, hard. she looked up at you for some sort of reassurance and you nodded.

a minute ago she was so dominant and now shes sweeter than a cookie. you adored that.

she reached her hands out to cup your tits, so soft, she thought. squeezing them and pinching your now hardened, pebbled nipples.

she elicited a moan out of you. you sat back on the bed for comfort and she dived into them. sucking harshly on your tits.

you couldnt tell if you hated it or loved it, your monas were telling her otherwise.

she left purple marks all over your neck, tits, stomach, anywhere she could mark really. you were huffing, all you needed her to do was touch you down there.

“patience baby.” she replied to your subtle huffs. you rolled your eyes, pleading with your body language as you rolled your hips into nothing.

her head moved down slowly, taking time with your body as if you werent some one night stand. did she actually like you?

she kissed all over your stomach and you felt giddy, you were giggling at how it tickled.

the she dipped her head low, taking in how soaked you were. the whole time you had been rubbing your thighs together. any subtle touch made you go crazy.

she fully dived in, and you moaned her name out, loud enough to here over the booming music. “e-els!” she teased your clit with her tongue, licking a stripe down, giving your clit kitten kisses.

her tongue reached places your fingers couldn’t surprisingly. you couldnt stop panting. it felt like heaven.

your vision was going blurry, white, if the coil in your belly bubbled anymore it was going to snap. “ellie.. i—im gonna!..” she moaned into your pussy, sending hypnotising vibrations into it.

“i know baby, come for me.” those words was the thing that snapped the bubbling coil.

you felt hot slick pool out of you, she lapped up all she could, almost overstimulating you. you were panting.

she got up and laid beside you, toying with your plush tits. you could almost fall asleep right then and there.

“alright,” she patted your thigh. “i gotta get going, heres my number though.” she pulled out a random piece of paper from her pocket and a pen. had she been preparing for this? you thought. she handed you the note like a little kindergartener and put her shirt back on.

you had the sudden urge to shove a pillow between your legs, whining from the loss. you fought back everything in you to shove the pillow that was staring at you between your legs. you watched ellie leave,

she left you on the bed looking back at you to smile before closing the door behind you. you eventually got up and put your clothes on, walking over to the bathroom that was in the small room to fix up your hair and makeup.

you realised your hand was still clutching that little piece of paper. you looked at it and read it slowly, still regaining composure.

‘**** **** **** **** message me ;) x’

you probably werent going to message her, but just incase, you slipped the note into your purse and walked out of the room going to look for you friends to take them home, luckily ellie had sobered you up.

———————

a/n: im sorry the ending actually sucks i was getting sick of this and i needed to get it out of my drafts. should i turn it into a series were reader actually messages ellie? idk.

[mattsautumn]

Can’t wear that - Chris Sturniolo

Summary:

Warnings: swearing, possessive behavior, sexual content, smut, use of y/n, sex, fingering, eating out, uhhh if there’s anything else lmk!

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 300+ LIKES ON MY LAST POST. THATS INSANE? ily all so so sososososoosos much❤️ also english is not my first language so im sorry if there are any mistakes.

(I love this song sm🤭)

————————————————————————

You and Chris never had any arguments. Most of the time you guys were the ‘perfect’ couple. Today wasn’t one of those days.

Chris and you were planning to go to a party a friend of Chris has planned. You were very excited about going and you even bought a dress. The bad thing about this story is that the dress is extremely short and revealing.

Obviously Chris wouldn’t let you go out like that, so you started arguing.

“I don’t know where you think we’re going, but you’re not gonna wear that outfit.” He says, already getting frustrated by the whole idea.

“Yes i am, you don’t decide that for me.”

Chris stands up, his face red with anger. He walks over to you and grabs your arm, pulling you towards him. “I don’t care what you say right now. You’re not leaving this house looking like that. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.”

You push him away, trying to get free from his grip. He stumbles back a bit from the force of your push but quickly recovers. “This is not a normal dress, it's too fucking revealing.” He yells at you.

“No it’s not! Grow up Chris.” You yell back.

Chris loses his temper and grabs you by the waist, lifting you off the ground. “Shut up! You're not going anywhere looking like that! I don't care if you hate me for it, but you're changing before we leave this house!" he says, his voice loud and angry. You flinch at the outburst. Chris sees the flinch and immediately feels guilty. He sets you down gently and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. But I can’t let you go to that party dressed like that.”

“It’s fine.” You say before walking over to your dresser to grab a new one.

He watches you walk away, his anger slowly fading into concern. He follows you to the closet and stands in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “Which one are you going to choose?” he asks, trying to sound calm and reasonable instead of angry.

“This one i guess.” I say as i hold up a less revealing dress. He looks at the dress you've chosen and nods in approval. “That one is much better. It’s more... appropriate.” He steps aside to let you change, still feeling guilty about losing his temper earlier. “I’ll wait for you outside. Take your time.” He says. You give him a quick nod before going back to changing.

Chris leaves the room, closing the door gently behind him. He leans against the door, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down. He knows he overreacted, but he can’t shake off this feeling of protectiveness when it comes to you.

After a while you come out in a new, less revealing dress. Chris looks up as you come out of the room and his eyes widen in surprise. He takes a step towards you and reaches out to touch the fabric of your dress. “Wow, you look beautiful. I’m sorry I acted like such an idiot earlier.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Shall we go?” I ask. He nods, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude that you’re forgiving him so easily. “Yeah, let’s go. But promise me you’ll stay close to me tonight, okay? I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.” He says.

“Yeah of course Chris.” Chris smiles, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him as he walks beside you to the party. He keeps a protective arm around your waist, scanning the room for any potential threats or dangers. “Let’s have some fun tonight, okay? But remember, you’re mine, and I don’t share.”

The party went well. You met a few girls, whom are influencers. They talked with you as Chris was there being his protective self and holding your hand. Around midnight Chris grabbed your arm, without a word. He grabs you by the hand and pulls you towards the exit, his mind racing with dirty thoughts.

“Chrisssss..” you say, knowing what he was up to.

As soon as you’re back at his place, Chris wastes no time. He pushes you against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours as he hungrily devours you. "Fuck, I need you now.. you look fucking incredible all the time.”

“Really? how bad?” You ask, teasing him. He grins, his hands trailing down your body as he pulls you closer. He can already tell how turned on you are, and it only fuels his desire. "Bad enough that I would bend you over right here if I thought you could handle it."

“What makes you think i can’t?” You ask.

He reaches down and grabs your ass, giving it a hard squeeze. "Because I know you cant control yourself when I dominate you. And right now, I'm feeling particularly dominant." He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Well then, why don’t you show me?” You ask, smiling innocently. He immediately carries you over to the couch and throws you down onto it, following immediately behind you. Suddenly.. you both are naked. He kicks your legs apart and buries his face between your thighs, eating you out with reckless abandon. "Fuck, you taste so good." He speaks between laps, his hands gripping your thighs.

“Oh god baby…” you moan out. He grins at your words, loving how much he affects you. He continues to eat you out, working every inch of your pussy with his tongue. His fingers slide inside of you, curling up to hit that spot deep within. "You're mine, aren't you?"

“all yours Chris, all yours!” You scream out in pleasure.

Chris stands up, letting your orgasm, making you whimper at the loss. "This is all yours." He positions himself at your entrance, slowly pushing inside of you. He loves the feeling of being buried deep inside of you. "Say it again."

“All yours.. fuck.” You say as you feel him stretching you out like crazy.

He slowly starts to thrust his hips, building a steady rhythm. "Damn right I am." His hands grip your hips, pulling you towards him hard on every thrust. "You're mine to fuck, to possess, to worship."

You feel yourself getting closer to the edge within seconds. Chris can feel how close you are to your release. He speeds up his thrusts, wanting to bring you over the edge. "Let go for me baby." With every word, he slams into you harder and deeper.

“Oh fuck i cant!” You manage to moan out between the heavy breaths leaving your mouth. He reaches between your legs, rubbing your clit in fast circles. "Yes, you can. Fuck, you're gonna come all over my cock." He continues to thrust and rub your clit, pushing you towards your climax. "Now, baby..!" He demands, his own release coming. You let go, feeling waves of pleasure flowing over you. As you let go, Chris feels his own orgasm hitting. He slams into you one last time, spilling himself deep inside of you as he groans out your name. "Fuck....fuck...yes, just like that."

Heavy breaths leave our mouths as we’re both left insanely sweaty and tired. Chris leans down to kiss you deeply. "Fuck, that was amazing." He stays buried deep inside of you for a moment before pulling out.

“That was amazing.. thank you Chris..” you say, smiling slightly.

Chris smiles and kisses your forehead. "Glad you enjoyed it." He looks down at his softening cock then back at you. "Want me to clean up or are you gonna stay in bed for the rest of the day?" He smirks, already knowing the answer.

“Both please…” you say. He chuckles and gets up from the bed, walking to the bathroom. He returns to the bedroom a few minutes later with a warm, damp cloth. "Here, let me clean you up."

He gently cleans you, making sure to be extra gentle. Then later tosses the cloth aside and crawls back into bed with you. "There we go. All cleaned up." He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. "You okay?"

“Im so okay.”

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First Chris fanfic?!?! I love y’all sm thanks for the support!💖

[byoldervine]

How To Always Have Writing Ideas…

For A New Story:

1. Keep a list. Any time you have one of those sudden bursts of inspiration in the middle of writing a separate story, don’t quit your current WIP or pretend you’ll ‘just remember it’, put it into a separate list. You can always go back to this later on

2. Writing prompts. Look them up, use random word generators, pick a random object you can see, whatever helps you come up with any idea at all. Write a few paragraphs. Can it evolve from there?

3. People watch. Go to a public place and make up backstories for the strangers you come across. That man in the hat is using it to hide his elf ears. That woman with the bright pink hair didn’t dye it, she’s secretly the main character of an anime trying to dodge all the tropes and cliches. That toddler is actually a guardian angel reincarnated to watch over their new baby sibling. What brings them to this place? Where did they come from? Where are they going next?

To Continue An Existing Story:

1. Act it out. Say the words aloud, act out what your characters are doing, get props or people to act off of if you need to. See what feels like the most natural progression of the moment

2. Coffee shop AU, or other substitutional one-shot. Good for establishing dynamics between two or more characters, or even just working out a lone character’s day-to-day. Just write a few paragraphs about your characters entering a coffee shop or similar appropriate establishment/ordinary location. What do they do? What do they order to eat/drink? What do they say to each other? How do they treat the staff and other customers? If all else fails, write what they do after they leave, as if it were an ordinary day for them

3. Rubber duck it. This is something programmers use to work out where they went wrong in their code, but I’ve found it can work for figuring out story stuff as well. What you do is get a rubber duck, or any other object of focus, and start explaining your problem to it out loud. In this case you can read your chapter to the duck, or even give it the full run-down of the plot so far. Warning; side effects may include getting frustrated that the problem was right in front of you and subsequently throwing the duck

For Both:

1. Writing graveyards. I talked a bit about them in a previous post, but writing graveyards are basically just the folder you store your deleted scenes in instead of yeeting them into the void. Reread those, see if they have anything you can recontextualise or repurpose

2. Combine ideas. My WIP Byoldervine is a combination of two separate plots I had that I realised I’d be able to combine - twice. I first realised I could put together my ‘angel and demon heroes protecting humans from a war between heaven and hell’ story and my ‘quest through the fantasy realm to find the ingredients to a cure for a dying god’ story into the same universe as two sides of the same story as a duology. Then I realised I could just remove a few characters, tweak a few plot points and mash them completely together into one book. Combining them works wonders and minimises worldbuilding

3. Go out with friends or family. I guarantee that the one time you’ll be flooded with inspiration is when you don’t have an opportunity to write it down

[atinystraynstay]

Tolerate It - Xu Minghao

Synopsis: Watching the love of your life be with the wrong person should be classified as cruel and unusual torture. While you loved to see him smile, you hated the fact it was because of someone else.

Pairing: Xu Minghao x reader

Inspired by: Tolerate It - Taylor Swift

Genre: Angst - unconfessed feelings, arguments, jealousy, friends to lovers, ft. Wonwoo, Jun, and Mingyu

Word Count: 3.4k

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Living in a city sometimes felt constricting. For the longest time, you always dreamed of living in a major city where there was always something going on. However, coming from home work to loud shouting, blaring car horns, and constant movement all around got overwhelming. And you weren't the only one that felt that way.

You were grateful for the opportunities thrown your way. However, sometimes you just wished you take a step into peace and quiet.

It was Minghao that suggested that everyone should take a trip to the woods. He found a company where you could rent out a company, which was perfect for you and your group of 14 friends. But it seems you miscounted. This whole time, you had no idea that Minghao was planning on bringing his girlfriend as his plus one. You didn't even know you were allowed plus ones!

At the moment, you were in the kitchen washing the dishes after the meal Minghao, Joshua, and Mingyu cooked up together. Minghao, Seokmin, Hoshi, and Cheol took it upon themselves to start a bonfire. They believed it was the only appropriate way to kickoff your weekend getaway. Well, Minghao wasn't helping much. He was more so keeping his girlfriend company, having his arms wrapped around her and holding her close. It made you sick to your stomach.

"You know, if you stare long enough, they might get an idea you're watching them like a hawk," Wonwoo commented.

You didn't even noticed he slipped into the kitchen. However, you noticed he had yellow rubber gloves on and was there to keep you company. To be honest, you wanted to dot he dishes by yourself to sort through your thoughts, but you knew Wonwoo was always a good person to confide in. You smiled appreciatively before stepping aside, allowing him to have access to the pile that filled the sink.

"So, I'm taking it you didn't know she was coming?" He asked. "No, not at all. I didn't know until I got out of Cheol's car," you confessed, a hint of sadness in your voice. "Trust me, none of us knew except Minghao. This was apparently his idea of trying to get us to meet her." "By tricking and trapping us here?"

You both shared a laugh at that idea. It made you feel a bit better that you weren't the only one blindsided. Normally, Minghao was so upfront with the group about his feelings, so you were confused why he's kept her hidden for so long. You only knew of her by him mentioning that he was going on a date with a new girl that Dino set him up with. And the poor maknae already got an earful from you.

"I always thought you two would end up together," Wonwoo commented.

His gaze was locked on the dishes submerged underneath the bubbly water. Your gaze was locked on him. Your eyes were a bit wide, not sure if you heard him correctly. However, he glanced out of his peripheral to see your eyes locked on him. "So you're not denying that you like him? Or did I just make things awkward because you guys are best friends?"

You were at a loss of words. How the fuck did Wonwoo figure it out? Who told him? Or were you that painfully obvious.

There was no denying that you had feelings for Minghao. How could he when he treated the world with kindness? How could anyone not be attracted to him when he looked like he was crafted by the Gods? His visuals and his heart of gold set your heart ablaze easily. But you two were friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

He made that part obvious by being with someone else.

Wonwoo let out a chuckle. Putting the last dish in the drying rack, he grabbed the towel to dry off his hands. "Don't worry, y/n. Your secret is safe with me," he vowed. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before he walked away, leaving you motionless in the kitchen.

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Everyone was gathered outside in a small circle around the fire. Seugncheol and Hoshi looked at the fire with pride at the fire they created. All the rest of the guys were chatting, either drinking beer or coffee depending on the guy. You were sandwiched between Jun and Wonwoo.

Unfortunately, you had a front-row view of Minghao and his girlfriend. Her heart twitched with ache as she sat on his lap. Every few seconds, he would take the time to ensure the blanket was wrapped around her body.

"Stare long enough and he's going to notice," Wonwoo whispered. "Or worse, she might."

If you could, you'd hit him on the shoulder. But it would cause too much attention to the others, which knowing them, they'd pry until your secret was let out. You silently thanked him though as his voice caused you to turn your head.

"Could always just blame the fatigue from traveling." "Wow, look who is using their brain," Wonwoo teased.

You rolled your eyes before leaning back fully in the lawn chair. You had your legs curled up to your chest. Sure, you were decked out in sweatpants, a hoodie with a long sleeve shirt underneath, and a beanie, but it wasn't enough to keep you warm. The fire wasn't aiding at all.

"Geez, y/n. You're practically turning blue," Jun chimed in.

Before you could protest, you were being lifted into the man's lap. You stared up at him, disbelief that he actually moved you but also that he pulled off a move like that. Where was the shy boy you met a few years ago?

He winked at you before wrapping the blanket around you. You weren't sure where it had appeared from but then put two and two together when you saw a pouting Mingyu making his way back to the group from inside.

"Hey! That's not fair," he whined out. "Oh come on, Gyu. The baby is called," Jun called out, motioning down towards you.

Mingyu didn't even notice that you had migrated from your spot to Jun's lap. He softened his pout at the sight of you bundled up like a burrito, your face barely showing thanks to the beanie and dark blanket.

"Okay, you got me there. Y/n, is too adorable to get made at," Mingyu chuckled. He swiftly made his way back to his seat, placing himself where you used to sit which was beside Wonwoo. Much better for everyone. "Sweetheart, do you want a s'more? I'm a pro!"

You nearly popped out of Jun's lap in excitement at the offer. The guys around you laughed as Jun wrapped his arms around you, tightening his grip slightly so you wouldn't go rolling off of his lap.

"I'm taking that as a yes," Jun laughed before kissing the crown of your head.

Your eyes widened slightly at Jun's actions. You peered up at him but all he did was wink. Wonwoo was sitting back in amusement, as the rest of the group didn't really seem to blink twice at Jun's antics. Jun was the type of guy who opened up more as he got comfortable around people.

Yet, you couldn't help but ponder on it. Was it a friendly kiss? You couldn't deny the blush that was coating your cheeks as Jun openly showed rare affection in front of the rest of the group. Did it mean something more?

"Hold on, y/n, how do you like your marshmallows?" Your internal investigation was interrupted by Mingyu calling out to you. You turned over to see Mingyu trying to get the marshmallow to stick to the skewer. Fearing the worst, Wonwoo was on supervising duty.

"As gooey as possible! I don't want it to drop into the fire, but get really close," you smirked, knowing it would be a challenge for him. "Whatever the princess wants, she gets," he declared.

You and Jun chuckled as Mingyu got to work.

These were the moments that you longed for since the trip was proposed. For the first time since arrival, you felt relaxed. It helped that Jun was allowing you to curl in his lap like you were a cat.

For Minghao, this was a moment he didn't expect. His eyes were locked on you and Jun, trying to figure out the puzzle between the four - Jun, Mingyu, Wonwoo, and you. Was there something going on? Did he miss something? "Babe? Baby? Helloooo, Earth to Hao?"

He jumped as his girlfriend called out to him. She had a slight pout on her lips as she gazed up at him. Minghao blinked a couple to reorient himself before he finally looked down at the woman in his lap. Woah, I've never just zoned out like that before.

"I was telling you all about what Sasha told me the other day. Weren't you paying attention to me?"

Part of him longed to be apart of the group. I mean, that's how envisioned this trip going. He thought everyone could come together as one group, not break into two smaller groups. Sure, that happened sometimes with a group as large as this but he didn't think that would happen when they were all meant to be hanging out together now. But he didn't want to be a rude person, so he quickly shook his head.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I think the fatigue of driving today is starting to catch up to me."

She raised an eyebrow and just stared at him for a moment. It was like she was trying to decipher if he was lying or not. However, she just shrugged before talking more about her inner circle.

Has she even talked to my friends once since arriving? Did she even make an effort to do so?

It made Minghao curious, especially when you, his best friend, were able to easily blend into his friend group. He even thought you were better friends with some of the other guys than he was. But that was just a testament to what a great person you are.

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One by one, the group began to dwindle and head inside for sleep. You were still outside with Jun, Mingyu, and Wonwoo whereas Minghao and his girlfriend were inside in the kitchen. He was probably making his nightly tea to help ease him to sleep.

"You're welcome, you know," Wonwoo announced.

Picking your head up off Jun's lap, you raised an eyebrow. You were getting sleepy yourself, so you were contemplating going inside or staying a bit longer. However, Wonwoo's statement woke you up and caught your attention.

Chuckling at your confused state, he sat up a bit straighter. Jun and Mingyu shared a knowing look which just further drew in your curiosity.

"Oh you know, for making Hao jealous?" Wonwoo explained. Your eyes widened as you glanced between the three guys before landing on Wonwoo. Your eyes narrowed on him, about to pounce but was eased down by Jun's hold. Note to self: never discredit Jun's strength again.

"You promised not to tell," you hissed. "Angel, it's not hard to put the pieces together," Mingyu added. "Yeah, I mean, we kind of knew you might have a thing for him but seeing you be a bit quieter around the two of them just confirmed."

You dramatically threw your head back. That's it. Your life is over.

"I think I speak for the rest of the guys when we thought you two would end up together."

Your head instantly sprung back. You groaned slightly from the head rush you caused yourself. Jun snickered before allowing his fingers to trace against your arm, comforting you.

"Don't just be mean and say shit like that, Jun." At least Wonwoo didn't deliberately spill your secret, I guess.

You just didn't know you were that obvious to the others.

"Y/n, I mean it. You guys have a special bond. Not only is it apparent that you care about him on a deep level, but he does for you too. I guess we all just thought you were close friends, but we all saw how your personality shifted when she started coming around." "But he's not into me, guys. If he was, he would have said something by now." "Do you think maybe he was waiting for you to say something first?"

You frowned slightly at that idea. I mean, as much as you were waiting for Minghao to confess, you could have confessed as well.

SMACK

You looked over to see Jun and Wonwoo glaring at Mingyu between them. Mingyu was rubbing his arm, looking at you apologetically. The sight alone caused you to smile and relax a bit.

Deciding it was time to go inky ou tapped on Jun's arms. Getting the hint, he loosened his arms from around you so you could stand up. You stretched for a second.

"I guess we'll never know, boys. But what I do know is that I am exhausted and ready to shower to get the smoke smell off of me."

A chorus of goodnights echoed behind you as you said goodnight yourself and head towards the cabin. As much as you loved a good campfire, you didn't want to bring the smell in with you to bed.

Silently, you moved the sliding patio door to the right so you could slip in.

"I don't get why you are so distracted. Back in the city, you always have your attention on me." "I'm sorry you feel that way, but I also was hoping you would take this trip to get to know my friends? I don't want you to feel like you have to just talk to me." "So what? I'm not as important to you as your friends?"

Yikes. That wasn't what you were expecting to talk into you. You figured the house would be silent and you'd be the one making the most noise as you tried to navigate back to your room.

It got quiet as you quickly closed the patio door, not wanting to allow any chilly air or critters into the cabin. You turned around to be greeted by two pairs of eyes staring at you. One was trying to stare into your soul, almost as if she wanted to burn a hole right through you. The other was softer, almost apologetically and shameful.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll see you both in the morning."

As quickly as possible, you scurried out of the kitchen as you desperately wanted to escape the tension inside.

"And you're still paying attention to other people more than you are wanting to pay attention to me!"

While you had your suspicions about what might be driving a wedge between the lovers, you didn't want to stick around and speculate. Now that you had a small group of supporters cheering for you and Minghao to find your way to each other, you were positive they'd fill in the dots if they also overheard anything.

Your priority right now was to get in the shower and curl back underneath the covers.

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SLAM

You jolted in your bed, your sleep interrupted but he sound of the slamming door. You were sure it had woken up the rest of the house too. Luckily for you and your nosey self, your bedroom window overlooked the front of the house. Quietly, you moved over towards the window.

To your surprise, Minghao's girlfriend was the one responsible for the noise. She had her pink duffle bag thrown over her shoulders. With no Minghao chasing after her. You watched as she climbed into the car already waiting for her, the smoke from the exhaust pipe lifting into the air.

Her voice was muffled but loud yet you couldn't make out the words that she was exchanging with the driver.

Where was Minghao? Was he okay?

You quickly got out of bed, but tried to be light on your feet. In a house of 13 men who were just as nosey as you, you had to be very quiet to not ring any silent alarms. You weren't really in the mood for a line of interrogation seeing that it was in the middle of the night.

Just as you were about to slip out of your room, you heard movement coming from the other side of the door. You halted your movement.

Knock knock knock

You were holding the breath you didn't even know you were holding. From underneath the door, you saw the shadow of two feet. Not much to indicate who was at your door.

"Y/n, I know you're up," Minghao said, his voice soft. He didn't sound angry or heartbreak, especially for a guy who's girlfriend (even if you could still call her that) stormed out of the vacation cabin.

It didn't take much longer for you to grasp the golden doorknob and twist it open.

Before you, you were greeted by the sight of Minghao. He was leaning against the doorway, wearing grey sweatpants and a matching grey hoodie. You were convinced Minghao was created by the universe as an apology for the patriarchy.

"You couldn't have made things easier for me?"

You stepped back, allowing Minghao into your room. He nodded before walking in, heading towards your bed. He sat on the edge but leaned back on his elbows. He was almost too calm for your liking.

Knowing that the other boys may have been alerted by Minghao's presence, you quickly closed the door behind you from prying eyes. You looked at him curiously, your heart pounding. Make what easier for him?

"I may be your best friend, but I am not qualified to be your couples' therapist," you said. "Come on, y/n. I know you're into me. Or are you really going to tell me you are into my best friend without telling me?"

Caught redhanded. Dammit.

You opened your mouth to try to defend yourself but nothing was coming out. Your lack of a response confirmed his suspicions, and actually made him believe Jeonghan who had overheard your conversation with Wonwoo earlier in the kitchen.

"Come here, darlin,'" he called out to you.

Without thinking about it, you made your way over towards the man presented on your bed. With each step towards him, your heart pounded faster. It didn't help that he had his eyes trained on you the entire time.

"I thought best friends weren't supposed to lie to each other," he frowned. "I wouldn't say it was necessarily a lie, Hao."

He scoffed as a playful smile was adorn on his lips. Once you were close enough to him, he pulled you in close. You were standing in between his legs as he peered up at you. His hands slowly began moving up and down your arms.

"But you weren't quite exactly truthful with me. How long did you think you could go without confessing to me?" "As long as possible if it meant keeping our friendship." With one hand on your wrist, the other hand moved up to tuck the loose strands of your hair behind your ear. "Good thing I don't want to be your friend anymore."

You swore you could hear your heart shatter into a million pieces at the statement. What did his girlfriend, or whoever she was now, say to him? "Because I don't think friends can do this."

Pulling gently on your wrist, Minghao seemingly eliminated any space between the two of you. He pulled you close enough so your knee hit your bed before leaning up to kiss you. You couldn't even resist. This was what you always wanted, to be his.

You kissed him back, gently moving so his back hit the bed and you were on top of him. Minghao smiled into the kiss, clearly happy about the reciprocation. His hand left your wrist to hold your way, the other cradling your face. You didn't even have time to move your hands onto him before he moved you over so he laid beside you.

The only sound in the room was the sound of your lips smacking against his. He was just as good of a kisser as you imagined.

Slowly, you pulled back. He offered a gentle smile as you did the same, but he could see there was something on your mind.

"You don't need to worry. I ended things with here. She pointed out that I was eyeing you all night, in the way maybe a best friend shouldn't," he confessed.

Your hands gently moved to cup his face. Hearing that news, you couldn't help but let your smile grow wider.

"Now who was the one who could've made things easier?" You teased.

[dear--mars]

Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?

── Synopsis: Soulmates. The concept sounded unreal, too good to be true. And it seemed it was. Nothing lasts forever and the thought of being together even in another world was just a dream.

── Characters: Blade, Aventurine, and Veritas

── CW: can't find anything. (please let me know if I missed any.)

── Notes: kinda occ ngl... [angst/no comfort]

── Word count: 591 + 891 + 867 = 2349 words in total

Blade ── Blade was a wandering soul. Both of you knew that and yet you still tried to tie him down. But could you really be blamed?

How could you think he wanted anything else when all he did was send mixed signals? One moment he’s cold and distant then he’s all over you, being needy and needing your comfort. So was it any surprise when you eventually got tired of his on-and-off behavior?

So you left. 

You started a new life on the small planet of Adion. You worked a job you actually liked, made new relationships, and never stressed too much about things that didn’t matter. It was the turning of a new leaf.

But with joy come sorrow and suffering.

A loud banging at your door echoed throughout your house. You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to fall back asleep, but the noise breaks the peaceful sleep you’re so desperately clinging to. 

You sat up, rubbing your eyes before taking a look at the clock for a few moments, it’s two in the morning. You had no idea what was going on but you had a familiar sense of deja vu that you couldn’t shake. 

"Damn it… Who the hell is that?" You mumbled to yourself before getting out of bed to walk to the front door. But once you saw who was at your door, every hint of fatigue fled your body as your blood ran cold. 

It was Blade.

You slightly faltered as your mind ran a hundred miles per hour trying to think of how he found you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a step back, not wanting to be in his vicinity.

Wordlessly, Blade reached out and stopped you. In the past, you would’ve said that Blade was one of the hardest men to read but as of right now, you could tell every thought that ran through his head.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you haven’t seen each other for a few months. The slight tug on his eyebrows that showed frustration, the dark circles under his eyes told you that he hadn’t slept for a while, and lastly the desperation and relief hidden in his eyes.

“Why?” was the only thing he croaked out.

You immediately understood what he was asking and a flash of irritation crossed your face. “Are you serious? Why? Why did I leave?” You asked, finishing his question. When you saw him nod, you scoffed.

You pulled your hand away from his but it chased after your warmth instinctively. “Why wouldn’t I leave? What have you done for me to make me want to stay?” You spat out harshly.

Blade flinched and gritted his teeth. He reached out to grab your hand again, this time intertwining his fingers with yours. “Maybe not in this lifetime but do you think we’re soulmates in every other universe?” He mumbled out, clearly in a vulnerable state.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not anymore. You cared way too much in the past, it was time to move on from this chapter in your life. Time to move on from Blade. “Do you leave me in every universe?” Your tone was bitter.

Even more so than him. Only then did Blade truly realize just how much power you had over him. You could make him the happiest he had ever been, more than he thought he could be but you could also drag him into the deepest depths of pain and agony.

Aventurine ── Aventurine. What a man.

At times you couldn’t believe he was yours. Waking up next to him and seeing his smile made you fall in love with him all over again. But you should’ve suspected something was up with a man so perfect and flawless.

You should have anticipated this turn of events. The plot twist was so overused that the only appropriate response you could get out was laughter. Lovers betraying each other—how cliché. 

How could someone be so blind just because of love? You couldn't fathom it. You hated this trope and Aventurine knew that. Maybe that’s why he was smiling ever so slyly when he revealed his true intentions. 

After telling you the truth, Aventurine left your home cold and empty, taking any semblance of warmth with him. Years passed and you were forced to move on. Did you still love him deep down? Of course, but time moved forward whether you were ready or not.

Aventurine was born lucky. Being blessed by Gaiathra Triclops from birth, Aventurine grew up always having luck at his side. A fact that he hated but one that he relied on often. 

That’s why he thought no matter what, he’d always win. But Aventurine hadn’t known that his ‘luck’ only really constituted physical ideas and plans, not emotions. Especially his or yours, not after everything he did to you.

Aventurine felt a void in his chest like something was missing. You, Obviously but he would never admit that. As “carefree” Aventurine is, he still has his pride. He used you even if it was for work, catching feelings wasn’t an option.

But it never hurt to see how you were doing, right?

That’s the excuse Aventurine used as he sat in your hotel room. He never would’ve thought you’d be here in Penacony but it worked out in his favor. (Everything always did.)

Aventurine hears the door creak open and footsteps but they stop as soon as you laid eyes on him. Your eyes widened, you could recognize that tuff of blond hair just about anywhere in the universe.

Your breathing gets a bit heavier as your hands curl into fists. Aventurine doesn’t need to turn around to see you’re upset but he does anyway. He wants to see your beautiful face after all. 

God, you were extraordinary. Even after years of being apart, you still looked the same. If anything, you grew to be more attractive. Your soft skin, your plump lips, and your luscious hair that shined even under artificial lighting.

“Hey. It’s been a while, huh?” He asked, hiding his true feelings and masking them with a facade of confidence and nonchalance. “Never expected you to come to Penacony of all places.”

Your heart ached when Aventurine spoke to you with an air of familiarity. You hated how he acted like nothing happened between the you two. You ignored his words, cutting straight to the point. “What are you doing here.” You asked but it was more of a demand.

Aventurine raised his hands in mock surrender. “What’s with the hostility? I just came here to say hi and catch up.”

“Get out.” Your tone was bitter.

“Come on-” You cut him off,

“No. Get out of my room. Or wait, should I beg you to stay like last time so you’ll definitely leave?” You mocked, in slight disbelief of Aventurine’s audacity.

Aventurine ever so slightly faltered at your tone and words. “Okay, ouch.” He joked but deep down your actions hurt. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” But when Aventurine saw the glare in your eyes, he decided to drop the facade.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he did when he was feeling guilty or bad. “Do you remember our first anniversary? When we were having that picnic under that giant weeping willow?” He reminisced with a strained smile.

“You asked back then if we’d be soulmates in every universe and I said yes, knowing that I’d have to betray you. I feel like it’s my turn.” Aventurine paused and took a deep breath. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?”

You didn’t hesitate in cutting down any and all expectations, Aventurine held. “Why would you think that when you ruined it for us in this one?” You counted with a question of your own.

Aventurine froze before smiling, trying to mask the pain in his expression. “I have to admit I wasn’t expecting you to say something so cruel but I understand,” Aventurine said with a smile, trying to act playful and nonchalant. 

He then left your room without any more complaints. The truth of the situation didn't hit him until he saw you at the bar, laughing and drinking with another man. Maybe my luck has finally run out. He thought, trying to shove back any emotions from leaking out.

Aventurine had never truly wanted anything in his life. He couldn't afford the luxury of wanting something. He never asked for all the wealth he amassed or the luck he was born with. Hell, he didn’t even really want freedom. After being chained down for so long, Aventurine wouldn't know what to do if he was free.

But you were different.

He wanted you. But he couldn’t. 

And that was what pissed him off the most.

Veritas ── Dating Veritas was not for the weakhearted. Due to his extreme talent and unparalleled intelligence, he holds himself in high regard. He comes off as candid, self-centered, and condescending. 

Even mocking or narcissistic at times. But you knew him better. Veritas was just a bit too blunt but he was sensible and levelheaded. He wasn’t a bad person. In fact, it’s the opposite. 

He firmly believes that intellect isn’t confined to geniuses and seeks to distribute knowledge to the entire universe, all to “cure” ignorance. He wants to help people but is just a bit odd or “mean” while doing it. 

He does have a bit of an eccentric temperament but he meant well. That’s what you always told yourself but that excuse was starting to grow old. You were trying to be considered an understanding of where he was coming from, you always have been.

But you can only take so much. A person can only get knocked down so many times before they decide it's better to just stay on the floor. And it seemed you were reaching that breaking point with Veritas.

He would always point out your mistakes, nitpick something irrelevant, or just for the sake of it. You started to wonder if he even loved you. Never once did he really show affection toward you.

At first you tried to acknowledge that he might not feel comfortable with that but after years of being together, if he still wasn't comfortable enough with you to show basic affection… You couldn't help but wonder, what the hell have you been doing for the past four years of your life?

One day you had enough. 

Your words rang clearly throughout his study, "Veritas, I think we should stop seeing each other." You said vaguely but the message was clear. 

Veritas froze upon hearing your words, not expecting you to say such a thing. "Why?" he asked simply, the coldness now turning into a sharp tone. The suddenness of this topic left him confused, a part of him wanting to lash out at you, but he refrained.

"I just don't think we're compatible as a couple."

Veritas scoffed as soon as you finished speaking, feeling slightly annoyed at that word. Was 'compatibility' the thing that doomed their relationship? "So you have realised we are not compatible after so many years of being together?" His tone now sharp with the hints of slight aggression.

You didn’t flinch at his cold tone. "You don't have to get so defensive, I'm not blaming you." You said with a gentle expression, which was odd for you. You've always been more hot-headed and impulsive so seeing you like this was weird to Veritas.

"It's just that I want to be loved in a more open way and you can't provide that for me which is okay. That's just not you, and I don't want you to change yourself for me. I'm sure you're more suited with someone who's like yourself. I'm just not the person."

Veritas could tell by your calm explanation, that you’ve been thinking about this for quite some time and that fact stabbed his heart in a way he’d never felt before. "I tried my best to love you as much as I possibly can, but apparently that was not enough for you..."

"Just because you love me doesn't mean I feel loved." You countered and Veritas froze. "Let's think about it this way. Let's say you're trying to teach somebody something. It's easy for you so you have high expectations for the person you’re teaching. But that person just doesn't get it. They're trying their best but they're not understanding. You would feel upset or annoyed, right? Because their best isn't good enough for you." You tried to explain in a way he would understand.

“The fault wouldn't be placed on the person who's trying their best, it would be placed on the one who had unrealistic expectations.” You finished with a strained smile. You loved Veritas, with all your heart but you couldn’t go on like this.

Veritas had to stifle the urge to argue for a moment. He hated how accurate your example was, but he also understood your point. “Do you believe in fate? Destiny and or soulmates, things like that?“ He asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

You paused, raising an eyebrow at him. Veritas was an intelligent man when it came to logic and reasoning. Things like destiny and fate weren't “logical” in the slightest. “I suppose.” You answered carefully.

“Do you think we’re soulmates in every other universe?” You blinked at Veritas’ question. Never in a million years would you have thought that he would ask you something like that. You sighed and decided to give him a taste of his own blunt medicine.

“Do you treat me like shit in every universe?” Veritas felt his heart shatter at your response. He didn’t know you felt like that. He didn’t know that he was treating you so badly to the point where’d you had to resort to this.

He regretted asking. This would perhaps be the only time he wished to remain ignorant, despite his life goal of getting rid of it. 

- Navigation -   - Supernova -

[ktaerssoi]

plsss kate martin angst

drunk words

kate martin x fem!reader summary: you had known kate since you were kids, what happens when you except your feelings for her?

you and kate had known each other for years, you had even gone to Iowa with her. over the years, you've developed a small crush on her, kate's amazing attitude and kindness drawing you to her. 

kate walks into your shared apartment, arms full of grocery bags. you quickly spring up from your spot on the couch to help her. "hey, successful trip?" you joke, gasping as you spot your favorite snack. 

kate laughs, closing the fridge as she looks at your excited expression. "i saw you were running low, thought i would get you some more." 

you quickly put it in your secret stash in your room, "what would i do without you?" kate shrugs, her eyes seeming to sparkle. "i dunno, probably starve." 

"oh shut up, acting as if i don't do anything by myself.." you mumble the last part, continuing to put away groceries. 

"hey i heard there's a party tonight! wanna go? i heard there will be cute guys." kate nudged your arm lightly, smirking at the thought of setting you up with someone. "plus you and i both know we need to get out more." 

"hey, i get out! plus, i don't need any guys, i have you for a reason." you cross your arms as you watch her put away the last item. "okay true," kate hums, "but I'm tired of rotting away every friday night. it'll be fun i swear. need a remind you about the cute guys?" 

you sigh, nodding. "okay, what time is it at?" you over to the clock on the wall, it reading 5:23 pm. "it starts at eight but we should probably get there earlier for the good liquor." kate winks, a grin on her face.

"i bet i could get a guy to get me a drink," she smiles, leaning against the kitchen counter. "can you shut up about the guys? that's not helping." 

kate was taken aback by your sudden attitude, but her shock was quickly replaced by a smug look. "are you jealous or something?" 

you scoff, rolling your eyes at her implication. "jealous? of what?" you tried to shrug off her idea, knowing deep down you were jealous that she wasn't talking about you like that. 

kate gives you a teasing look, smirking "yes you are! admit it, you're crushing on some girl." she gasps, giggle "aw are you crushing on me?" she teases you, playfully pushing your shoulder. 

"no kate, can't you just drop it?" you uncross your arms, walking over your bed as you try to ignore her surprisingly accurate accusation. kate laughs as she follows, jumping onto your bed next to you. "c'mon you know i won't judge, just tell me" 

"no kate, this is something i want to keep to myself." you turn on your side, facing away from her. kate frowns, a little disappointed. she stays silent for a few moments before speaking again. "okay fine, i'll drop it, but you know i always find out." 

"shut up," you mumble into your pillow, "plus how could i have a crush on you? i'm not even gay." kates eyes widen before she bursts out laughing, "good one, but we both know that's bullshit." 

you don't say anything, know that speaking would just dig yourself a deeper hole of no return. you decide to take a quick nap before the party. 

you wake up a little before seven, meaning you had about an hour to get ready. you first got dressed, throwing on something party-appropriate. realizing that kate had fallen asleep too, i woke her up. “c’mon kate, we gotta go soon.”

she got up with a groan, dragging her feet over to the bathroom. kate usually takes a little while to get ready, but she manages a good pace as she walks around the apartment. "ready,"

you stand up from your seat at the kitchen table, looking at her up and down. she looks good. "you look really pretty," kate smiles at you, causing color to rush to your cheeks. 

you point to the door, regaining your composure, "lead the way." the party wasn't far from your apartment, so the two of you opted to walk. as you got up to the house you could already feel the vibrations of the loud music. 

kate takes a look at you and grins, "alright, lets do this." you shake your head as she pulls you forward, walking through the front door. taking a deep breath, you take in the unfamiliar surroundings. people were crowding the small space, empty solo cups already littered the available surface area. 

kate quickly got caught up with people, fitting right in. you on the other hand, had made your way to a nearby wall, trying to scope out the people. you smiled as you spotted jada and gabbie, two of kate's teammates. 

the duo was taking to a group of football players, and you grabbed a drink on the way over to calm your nerves. "hey guys," jada's face lights up at your appearance, and gabbie is quick to hug you. 

"hey! we didn't expect to see you here tonight?" gabbie looked to jada, who then nodded at you. "yeah how's it going?" jada took a sip of her drink, waiting for your answer. 

"good, kate dragged me here. something about cute guys." you shrug, taking a sip of your drink. jada looks around, nodding. "yeah, i guess there are some cute guys here. they're all total douchebags though."

gabbie nods, also looking around. "speaking of our dear friend kate, where is she?" you pause, trying to remember if you saw her on your way over. "um, last i saw she was talking to some group of girls." 

jada and gabbie give each other a look, causing your eyebrows to knit together in confusion. "what?" you ask, feeling nervous almost. "nothing, it's just kate said she liked someone and we've been trying to figure out who." jada explains 

"and you think its a girl?" you take another sip of your drink, taking in the new information. why hadn't kate told you? "well she said no to every guy we said, so were out of ideas. plus it would kind of make sense" 

"how?" you were interested, maybe you did have a chance. "well you know, you guys have always kind of been like, you know." gabbie tries to explain, but you don't understand what she means. "no? i don't know?" 

"you guys have always had that kind of friend or dating type of thing." jada puts in bluntly, causing you to nod a barely audible 'oh' escaping your lips. "we're not saying she likes you though, or that we think you're like that, just, you know." 

"no, i still don't 'know'" you cross your arms, tired of people being vague. "i'm going to go get a refill," i mutter, walking away from them. 

getting over to the drink table, you run into the main topic of conversation. kate was chatting it up with a new group of people, all of which seemed to be paying a great deal of attention to her. you know it's wrong, but you're tired of seeing her with everyone but you. 

you pour yourself another drink before walking over to her. "hey kate," you mumble, squeezing in between her and some random guy from the group she was talking to. 

kate turns to you, still laughing from whatever joke the guy had said. she beamed at you, giving you a once-over. "look who it is! i was wondering where you went." 

"i ran into jada and gabbie, so i was hanging with them." you smile, and you can smell the strong scent of alcohol on her breath. kate giggles as she sees you eyeing her. "mm, well im trying to have fun too and these guys aren't the best company, you know?" 

why does everyone think you know? you turn to look at the group of guys, they're all drunk, laughing their asses off about something. "but anyway, you're here now," she murmurs, looping her arm around your waist loosely. "we can have our own fun now," 

you nod, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "yeah sure, want to go dance?" kate smiles as she pulls you to the makeshift dance floor. the alcohol had clearly relaxed her significantly, making her more carefree and touchy. 

you smile as you watch kate, she looked like she was having fun, even catching some people's attention. a few songs in a guy approaches you, "hey, i noticed you dancing over here. is that your girlfriend?" you laugh as he nods to kate. "uh no, she is just my roommate."

"oh so you're single then?" he gives you a cheesy smile as he looks you up and down. "you're really pretty, would you maybe want to go grab a drink?" you turn back to kate, seeing her talking to some other girl.

"yeah, i would love to." the guy smiles, offering you his hand. "i'm eric, by the way." he comments as he leads you away from kate. "okay, i am going to make you the best damn party drink you've ever had." eric says, grabbing a cup.

"hmm, i don't know, a shearly temple is pretty hard to beat." you laugh, watching him pour things into your cup carefully. meanwhile, kate has finished up her conversation, and is now scanning the room for you, coming up empty-handed.

"so you having fun tonight?" eric asks, handing you the cup. "yeah, it's been fun. i don't go to parties much." you nod, taking a sip of the drink he made. "really? you seem like the type to be invited to them all the time."

"i didn't say i don't get invited, i just don't come." you laugh, nodding your head as you take another sip. "you're a real stunner and you always know what to say, i like that in a girl. want to find somewhere quieter where we can talk?"

he eyes you hungrily, and you realize how much taller he is than you. "aw, im flattered but i need to finish this drink you made me! it's really good." you say, taking yet another sip.

"you could be enjoying much more than the drink if you come with me." he smiles, whispering into your ear. "thanks for the offer but i have to get back to my roommate, she's a. bit of a lightweight if you know what i mean."

"you're picking her over me? i thought we were having a good time, but i guess we have to cut it short because your friend can't handle herself." you nod, confused as to where this attitude is coming from. "yeah, i guess we will."

you walk away, trying to locate kate. you finally spot her talking to jada, a worried look on her face. "hey guys, what's up?" you say breathlessly, tired from squeezing through the crowd. kate's eyes widen as she sees you, relaxing a little. "there you are, i was looking everywhere for you. where'd you go? and why didn't you answer my text?"

"oh sorry, i was with some guy." kate narrows her eyes at your response, seeming almost mad. "'some guy?' who? and how is he more important than us? what were you even talking about" kate was mad, she was mad that you had someone else prioritized above her.

"a bunch of things, and it wasn't like we were hooking up in the bathroom, so calm down." you cross your arms, getting defensive. "he asked if i was single and you were off talking to some girl so i just said yes. he was a nice guy."

"what was his name? or did you guys not get to talking about that?" kate asked pointedly. "what is with the interrogation? i said he was a nice guy alright?" you roll your eyes, not quite sure why she was acting this way.

kate places her hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you? "hey im just trying to understand who this guy is." you shrug her hand off of you, pulling back. "okay i just told you, so can you drop it? i'm going to go get a drink."

kate flinches, her smile dropping as you brush her off. "whats with her mood?" jada asks, sitting on the couch next to kate. "shut up, dude." kate says, leaning back, resting her head on top of her head.

"fuck," you mumble as you accidentally spill a drink. you eventually clean it up. after that, not paying any mind to how you might feel the next day, you pour yourself a few more just to try and lighten your mood.

you find your way to the dance floor again, you see kate as you dance. you don't know if she sees you, but you dance as if she's watching you.

some random football player comes up to you, just making you even more ticked off. you excuse yourself, squeezing past him to go find kate. even if you were slightly upset, you weren't going to leave with out her.

kate sees you coming towards her, and her face lights up immediately. she moves to wrap her arms around you, relieved to see you again. but as she looks closer, she notices your glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, and her smile fades. "hey are you okay? you look a bit..drunk."

she pulls back from the hug slightly, gently holding your face in her hands and studying your expression. "yeah i'm fine, can we go home?" you hiccup.

"yeah, yeah for sure. hey jada we're going to head out." kate days bye to people on the way out, guiding you through the crowd with her hand on your lower back.

"sorry i'm making you leave so early." you mumble, your eyes barely staying open. "hey, it's okay. don't worry about me. i just want to make sure you're alright." she looks at you with concern in her eyes, clearly worried about your emotional state.

once you and kate get back to your apartment you quickly change, completely forgetting she was still there. "woah, hey im still here." kate says, turning around, even if she has seen you many times before.

"sorry, you can turn back now." you mutter, walking to the bathroom to wash your face. "hey, don't worry about it. It's no big deal. I just wasn't expecting you to change so quickly." she smiles softly, noticing the tear stains on your cheeks. her heart aches for you, and she wants nothing more than to comfort you

"guys suck, so much." you sigh, climbing into bed, "and i don't even like them!" kate chuckles, a mixture of amusement and sympathy in her eyes. "yeah, well you know you don't have to force yourself to like them? you don't need to be in a relationship to be happy."

you nod, still very much under the influence, "i guess, but like i don't like any men, like i just want you. why can't you want me like i want you?" you begin to doze off, "things would be so much easier."

kate's heart skips a beat at your admission, her eyes widening in surprise. she wouldn't admit it, especially to your drunk self, but she knew deep down she wanted you too.

"get some sleep, we can talk tomorrow." kate said, leaning down and brushing some hair out of your face.

notes: sooo 🌝 you asked for kate angst and i think i failed miserably but whatever! anyway, i hate this sm and it makes zero sense so i would love feedback!

[perpetuallydaydreaming]

stop flirting with the nurse, it’s embarrassing.

it’s hard to act cool if james’ beautiful, hot nurse can hear his heart rate.

tags: james potter x gn!reader,, modern au,, hospitals,, nurse!reader,, remus pov,, melodramatic sirius and peter,, fluffy,, crack(?),, short around 1.3k wc,, no mentions of y/n

a/n: contrary to the title, there are no flirting just james being awkward lol,, i have no idea about the process of how vital checking goes sorry,, finding photos for this probably took longer than writing the fic itself rip.

it is to be noted that remus, resignedly, accepted it was only a matter of time before james got hospitalized for his recklessness.

now, with sirius and peter on either side of him, they wait for james to gain consciousness from his surgical procedure. it was a minor one, hardly one that needed 24/7 surveillance that sirius begged him to be a part of nor is the blubbering phone call from peter about james dying. the doctors even said he could be discharged the same day, if he woke up within the hour or so.

but remus is nothing but a people-pleaser. so, he stayed to watch over james as sirius requested and comforted peter that their loud, obnoxious (/fond) friend will wake up soon.

the room ridiculously quiet, a word rarely used as an adjective if they were involved, but it was. the only sound in the room, is the constant slow stream of the heart monitor and james’ soft breathing. remus can attribute this peace that the unnecessarily frantic and ballistic duo has now gone to sleep on the hospital’s stiff couch.

your head poked in first through the curtain before offering the gentlest smile and a silent request for you to come closer. you had been nothing but kind and attentive, to the point you were somewhat spoiling his overdramatic friends and their bemoaning about death and pain.

acknowledging their concerns with facts, reassurances, and empathic smiles. though he couldn’t miss the twitch of your lips as you try and stop, what remus imagines is a bellowing laughter at their dramatic reactions over james’ “demise.” not that remus blames you if you did let out a little laugh, it was getting theatric for a simple, small, and successful surgery. but he understands that professionalism comes first, such reactions might not be appropriate.

“well, everything seems fine here. your friend should be waking up anytime soon, if he does, don’t hesitate to ring us over so we can have him checked and he can be discharged. but before i leave the room, do you want me to do anything for you, any questions or concerns?” you say, voice gentle and firm

“no, we’re good, thank you.”

you nodded and gave a pretty smile, “okay then.”

you adjusted the curtain to close it fully, giving a stirring james and the sleeping visitors some privacy.

it wasn’t long before james woke up, groaning and stretching as if he had just been napping. albeit, a little delirious still, from the anesthesia no doubt.

he had opened his eyes now, unnaturally drooping and hazed, remus reached over and thwacked sirius and peter on their heads, “james’ awake.” he hums, giving nothing but an innocent looking smile as they glare for their rude awakening.

any sort of complaints from the smack quickly died out when they saw james, crowding over him and hugging him as if he’s been gone for 3 years and not 3 hours.

peter grabs james’ hands and recounts his experience of how he heard the news (from a text). at the same time with sirius exclaiming,

“oh, i’m so relieved you’re alright!” sirius cries, cradling james’ head to his chest, nuzzling through the knotted mass of curls to which remus only rolls his eyes at the theatrics of it all.

leaving remus no choice but to call you back into their section and have him checked for the last time.

“i’m fine,” james rasps, giving a sleepy smile and sluggishly patting both of the melodramatic thespians as comfort.

he looked fine, his hair no doubt knotted, his lips cracked dry but still rosy-cheeked.

when you arrived, sirius and peter have behaved themselves to sit down on the chair beside james’ bed. you slid the curtains fully, letting the light into their area. the fluorescent lights behind your head creating a soft halo as you kindly smile at james.

he looked to be stuck in a dazed trance. eyes still drooping but wider than when he first woke up, mouth slightly open, and body seemed to be frozen in place.

at first, remus thought of this due to the lingering effects of anesthetics but heard james’ heart rate steadily increase in speed.

the beeping machine seemingly louder now than before.

“hello, james. how are you feeling?” you hum, walking to go near him to do your routine check up.

the beeping seem to have picked up in speed as you neared his bed.

remus looked to the others to see if they noticed. the three of them, doing their best to cover their mouths to muffle their laughter.

“..’m fine..” james mumbled, starry-eyed gaze stuck to your face as you check his file and vitals.

“no pain? or headaches? any discomfort?” you ask, jotting down notes.

“jus’ perfect. ” he said, sounding a bit breathless.

the beeping was just going incrementally faster, the nearer you go to him.

you look at the monitor, face looking confused and worried all the same. “is it okay if i touch you? i’m just going to check on something really quick.”

the beeping stops for 2 whole seconds before continuing its raging beats. by now the three boys are having a field day, face red from the silent laughter and disbelief.

his heart literally skipped a beat, what even is this guy really? remus amusedly thinks to himself.

james couldn’t seem to say anything but give a measly nod. you grab your stethoscope, and listened to his raging heartbeat to see if anything was wrong. but james’ heart rate just seemed to have gained more momentum as you gently place your hand on his shoulder.

you move away, and slowly the heart rate slowed down, but still fast enough that you looked at him in slight concern.

“your heart rates a bit fast,” you noted, looking straight at him.

james’, oh sweet james, cheeks bloomed a glowing red and bashfully looked down.

you wrapped the stethoscope around your neck again and gave him a sweet, reassuring smile, “but other than that, everything looks to be in order. i’ll bring over the papers you have to sign and then you guys are free to go.”

when you finally walked away, james heart rate seemed to slow down to the normal speed once more. lolling his head to the side, as he groans in utter embarrassment and self-loathing.

“what is wrong with me?” he groans, cheeks still aflame.

sirius smirks, “your usual weakness to utter babes, that’s what.”

“your heart was going so fast i thought it was going to pop.” peter gushed laughing.

james playing with his starchy blanket, muttering lowly, “you think the pretty nurse heard that?”

the boys snorts out a laugh,

“i think the whole bloody hospital heard it mate,” remus cackled.

you came into view again, attending to another patient checking their vitals. offering the same kind of glowwy smile you gave them not a minute ago.

and because james just loves torturing himself, his gaze lands on you again. the same dazed look, body frozen but his eyes actively following your every move. the boys heard his heart rate—the beeping sounds picking up again.

this time sirius couldn’t stop his bark of laughter, causing you to look over them, curious.

your gaze connecting with james for a solid second.

they heard the monitor give another long pause before resuming its fast beeps. remus shook his head laughing, telling you not to worry.

you give remus a small nod, before looking over at his flustered friend, giving james a smaller, but somehow the sweetest smile you showed all day and abashedly looking away.

and james looking undeniably enamoured by your brief exchange. letting his tongue wet his dry lips as a giddy, rather boyish smile erupts from his face.

hopefully, this doesn’t give james more reason to be reckless and get himself admitted to the hospital more often. but if he does, at least it’ll be a funny story.

[tragedybunny]

A Lovely Night - Astarion x F!Reader - TW: Mentions of past suicide attempts

Just an idea that came to me that I had to write. I promise next thing up is one of the requests that was waiting for awhile.

You and Astarion share a quiet night at camp and end up getting to know a lot more about each other and your relationship.

“Astarion, honestly,” you scold, fussing with one tent pole. “You’re making this difficult on purpose.” 

“I don’t know what you mean, my Dear,” he smirks, and moves suddenly, the half-finished tent collapsing on itself. It’s just a little game to maximize his time with you. The longer you two work at this, the less chance the others have to steal you away. 

“Gods, I’m going to sharpen one of these into a nice, pointy stake.” Your threat is undercut by a poorly concealed smile.

“Oh, what a cruel thing to say.” He widens his eyes at you, all feigned hurt. 

“That’s it, set it up yourself!” Throwing your hands up, you start to walk away, when he catches you, arms around your waist, pulling you in. 

“Fine, fine, I apologize,” little kisses pepper your neck as you squirm, still playing at a show of indignation, and start to giggle. 

“Let me go, you vile beast,” you’ve twisted until you face him, and he brushes his lips against yours. 

Words die away, and you rest your forehead against his, arms looping around his neck. Another soft kiss and the two of you have forgotten the tent entirely. 

Someone groans intentionally loud enough for you both to hear and the two of you dissolve into laughter. Astarion lets you go. The two of you really should make sure you have some place to sleep tonight anyway.

When the tent is finally up, you settle next to each other by the fire. Gale’s cooking again, which Astarion finds preferable. Sometimes when unoccupied, he stares at you like a parched man at a cool stream. Reaching for your hand, his fingers brush the scar on your wrist. At first, he hadn't noticed it existed, his mind divorcing itself from his body when he was intimate with you. Later he'd found it, when he was trying to study and memorize every bit of you while denying the ever-growing place in his heart that you occupied. 

You hadn't told him about what led to it, and he hadn’t known how to ask. Tonight you jerk back as though burnt when his touch finds it, and he wants to be hurt. But you've given him space and patience, he could at least do the same for you. 

So he hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you close until your head rests on his shoulder as you both stare at the crackling fire. "Favorite season," he asks. It's a little game the two of you invented, learning otherwise small details about each other. You knew the larger parts of his past, Cazador and all, and he knew the broad swathes of yours. You left home because you disagreed with your parents, he'd started to figure you for a noble before you'd all but admitted it, and you were a Warlock who couldn't say much beyond that. But the tiny details of you, those you could be free with. 

"Spring, it feels full of second chances and rebirth." You nuzzle your face into his shoulder. 

"Summer," that's the rule, you both have to answer, "it's the only time the night feels alive, even if it is short." 

A sympathetic noise and you kiss his cheek. "A pet that's not a dog or cat?"

"Rabbits," he answers without hesitation. 

"Really?" 

"They make a rather compliant food supply in a pinch."

"Astarion!" You try to sound scandalized, like you didn't know you were in a relationship with a vampire. Playfully, you swat at his shoulder. "Pets are not for eating." 

Scratch gives him a look from across the fire, the mutt never far from your side. "I thought we weren't judging each other," he scolds with a smile. "Your turn."

“What could I trust you with? Maybe something more appropriate like a raven,” you snicker, and he rolls his eyes knowing you can see him. “Oooh, maybe a bat.” 

“Are you making fun of me? You know, if we had anything like that, the neighbors would figure me out for sure, and then there’d be a mob after me. Is that what you want?” 

“Well I can’t trust you not to eat the rabbits it would seem, so what am I supposed to do,” the last word is squeezed out between giggles. Gods, it’s amazing to hear you laugh, even if it is at his expense. 

“Fine, no eating any pets. I promise,” he uses the same honeyed tone from the first days of knowing you, stifling his own laughter. It’s absurd, and wondrous, it almost feels like you're talking about real possibilities of some future beyond all this. 

“What about chickens? What if we had a farm with a bunch of chickens. Would I have to chase you out of the hen house like a fox?” 

“Madame, I’m highly insulted, you would think so low of me. Also, birds are harder to catch than you would think.” Arms crossed, he pouts. 

“You poor thing,” you kiss his temple, “I’m sorry for offending you.” Settling back down, you sigh wistfully. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? A little farm, the middle of nowhere, after we deal with everything."

"If that would make you happy. I'll refrain from any untoward curiosity about your chickens." Not that he ever expects you would really want that with him, you'll come to your senses after all this. 

"Deal. Seal it with a kiss?" He barely gets the agreement out and your lips are on his, gentle at first, waiting for his lead to something more fervent. Lips part, he invades your mouth, the noise you make music to him. A small step, a moment of desire that doesn't send him hurtling back into the abyss. 

"Dinner is done, if you two can tear yourselves apart for a few minutes," Gale practically scolds from across the fire.  

You pull away, blushing, another musical laugh echoing around him. “We can continue this later.” Reluctantly, he surrenders you to dinner, and the conversations the others pull you into. 

After what seems like an eternity, the two of you are finally alone again, the dying fire casting a soft light through the walls of the tent. In the flickering shadows, he watches as you begin to strip, casting the day away as you toss your garments to the side. The sight of you unclothed no longer sparks anxiety, now just a casual expression of your comfort around him. He drinks you in, alluring and unguarded. You are, admittedly, very pretty, but there's something beyond that. It’s that heart of yours, full of kindness, even for someone like him. 

"Why do you always have to play the hero?" He'd accosted you once after yet another noble deed.

"I can't just look away when I could've done something. This is a choice I make every day Astarion. To try to do what's right." You tapped his nose lightly with a finger, and he glared at you. "Even when it comes to you, my dear bloodsucker."

Somehow that was even more amazing to him. Kindness and goodness didn't just come to you, you fought to be that person. He suspected it was against a past that had tried to teach you the opposite.

You reach for the loose nightshirt you'd pulled from your pack. "Leave it off, please." Pausing, you give him a questioning look. "I just want to feel you tonight." 

The way your eyes softened at that made his still heart tremble. "Alright, Love."

After you settled among the blankets, he lays down in your arms, back pressed to your chest, your arms wrapping around him. He knows the touch of his skin brings a chill to yours, but that’s what the generous pile of blankets is for, so he pulls them over the both of you, trapping the warmth of you. 

"This is nice," you say, kissing his neck and shoulders until he feels the tension in his muscles giving way, and he relaxes in your embrace. 

Inhaling, his nostrils are filled with the scent of you. It's the most wondrous thing, and somehow it clings to everything now that you share a bed; blankets, pillows, even his clothes. He's surrounded by you all the time, and even more amazing, he smells himself on you, tangible proof you’re really his. His in the way that you gave yourself to him, just as he was yours. 

Something still feels unsettled in him though, a curiosity, no a concern, from earlier. “Can I touch it?” He blurts without thinking. 

Feeling you stiffen behind him, he curses, you’d had such a lovely evening, and now he’d ruined it. An arm unwraps from him, and you hold it where his fingers could find it. “Go ahead.” 

Two fingers caress it, running along your wrist, deep, straight, no jagged edges. A sharp blade and no hesitation, did they find you before it was too late, or was magic needed to bring you back? A cry tries to tug its way out of his throat, but he clamps his lips shut. There was almost a world without you, a world where you weren’t there to find him on that beach. The thought presses down, threatening to strangle him, and he tries to blink away tears. But he can feel your pulse thrumming under that scar, you’re here, you survived, and you found him. “If anyone ever makes you feel like this again, I’ll tear their throat out.” He knows you can’t say the why or when of it, but he’ll be damned if it ever happens again. 

“Hmm,” you don’t elaborate, but let him keep on with the small circles he’s now rubbing on your wrist. 

“What?” It was probably a stupid notion, look how far you’d brought this group, whatever your past, you didn’t need protection anymore. 

“It’s just different, thinking about someone trying to protect me.” 

“I do try…” Not that you could tell, apparently. 

Your arm shifts back, and before he can be anxious, it finds its previous spot, encircling his chest. Lips bury themselves in his curls and back down along his neck again. “I know. I meant, I don’t know, emotionally.” You huff, and he finds one of your hands to squeeze. “If I was happy never mattered much before.” 

“Well, it matters now.” There’s a deluge of emotion threatening in your words behind a dam that barely holds it back. That’s not for tonight though, or any night soon, he knows you have to finish this fight first. But when he can, when you’re ready, he’ll be there, repayment for the way you hold his heart with a delicate touch. 

“I think I’m starting to realize that.” Another kiss, this one on his ear, making him shiver. “I love you, Astarion.” 

“I love you too. Just…please don’t ever forget that.” It’s all gone entirely too serious. “Withers doesn’t need any more of our gold.” 

Behind him, you make a sound that’s half laugh, half sob, your face is wet where you press it into his shoulder. “Just whine at him, it seems to work well enough on the rest of us.” 

You pull him tight against you, and for this moment, everything is perfect and wonderful and lovely. Tag List:

@micropoe10 @spacebarbarianweird@writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21 @tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

[pinkanonwrites]

As Our Fingers Entwine

The end of the trilogy!!! I hope you all enjoy, both newcomers and those who have been eagerly anticipating this piece! It is in fact NSFW, appropriate tags below. Read it on AO3 here!

TRIGUN STAMPEDE EPISODE 7 SPOILERS IN FIC BELOW!

Vash/Reader, 6,000+ Words, AFAB Reader but no specific pronouns used, mutual pining, body worship, frottage, vaginal sex, alien biology, praise kink, enthusiastic consent, begging

You couldn't say for certain why the ambience of the peaceful town didn't lull you to sleep the same way the rattling underbelly of the Sand Steamer seemed to, but you had a distinct feeling it was because you weren't right next to Vash.

You'd never admit it aloud, mainly for fear of revealing your painfully obvious affections for your blond companion, but nowadays you always slept better with Vash by your side. And as happy as Vash seemed to have a room to himself and time to catch his breath, a selfish little part of you had hoped he'd be cheap again, crowd the two of you into a single room to save a few double dollars. The last time you truly got to sleep side-by-side with him was a few bumpy hours on the Sand Steamer, before the incident with the Bad Lads and the shootout and the, well, the entire steamer nearly catastrophically crashing to pieces. There wasn't much sleeping on the bus ride into town either, no matter how exhausted the both of you were. 

And yet, when you collapsed face-first into the surprisingly comfy hotel bed, you found yourself agonizingly conscious. Somehow, a simple wall in between you and Vash was enough to keep you from getting a good night's sleep. Just when did you become so dependent? Now three nights have passed, each one spent tossing and turning, unable to get more than a few blissful moments of shuteye. It wasn't like you were scared, or even stressed! Your body had just acclimated to the idea of sleeping curled up next to Vash, and now without him…

"Hey, anybody home in there?"

"...Hmm? Oh! Oh, yeah, I'm listening." You hadn't realized you'd started to doze off at the diner table over your supper until Vash leaned over and snapped his fingers in front of your face. You jolted up, grabbing a wedge of your sandwich and jamming it quickly into your mouth as he gave you a soft and sympathetic smile, his salmon sandwich basically finished and his free hand twiddling a stray french fry back and forth across the plate. Ah, he must have been waiting for you.

"You're a little out of it today. Everything alright?"

You waved him off, taking a swig of water to force down the mouthful of bread and various fillings. "It's fine! Just not sleeping well, it's no big deal."

Your response didn't seem to soothe Vash's worries at all, as his little smile fell into a frown. "That's no good. Is everything alright? You don't feel unsafe or anything, do you?"

"Nonono, nothing like that, really!" His concern really shouldn't have been enough to fluster you, Vash would have been worried for just about anyone who looked as worn-out as you did. But it still hit a soft little spot in you, something eternally sensitive to Vash's care and attention that you had to do your absolute best to stifle basically every moment of every day. "It's just too quiet, you know? I'm not used to having a room to myself anymore, heh. Pretty silly, isn't it?"

Judging by the soft and further  furrowing of Vash's brow, your  placations did nothing to assuage his concern. "Is there anything I can do? To help, I mean."

Stay. Stay with me, always.

Yeah, right. Like you could actually say that out loud. You sunk further into your seat, feeling a bit like an insect under a magnifying glass in the face of his consideration. It felt as if one wrong word or move would suddenly and jarringly expose the affections you held for him that seemed so glaringly obvious at all times, always.

"I dunno. It's not a big deal, anyway. We don't have to worry about it."

He seemed to sense your own discomfort with the subject matter, and leaned gently back in his seat. "I saw there was a tailor in this town! If you want you can come with me tomorrow, maybe get that tear in your cloak patched up?"

You thumbed the rugged fabric edge in your hand, almost not wanting to. Vash had patched it for you last time, and though the job was a touch on the rough side you didn't exactly like the idea of someone undoing his heartfelt, albeit clumsy, stitchwork. But shopping with Vash? That definitely sounded like how you wanted to spend your afternoon.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Anywhere you wanna stop by?"

"Might pick up some ammo, but not much besides that!"

And you were certain that would be the end of it. Even after thumbing out a few double-dollars to pay for dinner, opening the diner door for you with a cartoonish bow, and chatting idly as the two of you made your way back towards the hotel, Vash didn’t broach the subject again. By the time you’d made it to the door of your room you were certain he’d forgotten about it. But just as you were about to wish him goodnight and slip through the crack of the doorway his hand came to rest upon the door handle, that familiar soft expression of concern sneaking back up across his face.

“If you wanted… I could stay until you fall asleep?" There was a distinct shyness about it, like he was genuinely afraid of what your reaction may be. "Just to see if it would help?" 

You blinked at him once, twice, needing a moment to process the words he was saying before it actually clicked in your mind. Face growing hot, you prayed your expression didn't fully give away your embarrassment as an image wormed itself into your brain, an image of yourself in Vash's arms, his lips resting on the jut of your collarbone peeking from the hem of your shirt, of warm hands on the soft dip of your hips climbing higher, and higher…

Seeming to take your extended silence as rejection, or worse, disgust, Vash began to frantically backpedal, hand flying from the doorknob to tangle in the soft hair at the base of his neck. "You can say no! I just wanted to offer. Maybe that was a little weird, huh? Sorry, you can forget about it.”

But you didn't want to forget. Forgetting meant a return to… To whatever you and Vash were before that first night you woke up and saw him gazing at the stars. Forgetting meant pulling away again, faking a smile, pretending there was nothing there when you so desperately wanted there to be. Forgetting meant not acknowledging that he kept offering his hand to you, and that out of your own foolish anxieties you kept drawing away. 

And yeah, maybe things could still go catastrophically wrong. But wasn't that what you loved about Vash in the first place? How the entire world could fall apart around him and he'd still get up again, offer you a smile and put his best foot forward? 

You loved him. You loved him. And you were fucking sick of pretending you didn't. Your fingertips had closed around the fabric of his sleeve before you could second-guess yourself. 

"Stay with me."

And oh, oh, if the expression that crawled its way up Vash's face wasn't worth any and every possible humiliation, rejection, or vague discomfort. Red bloomed up from his collar, creeping up his neck into his cheeks and the tops of his ears. He blinked twice behind his oversized lenses, gaze flicking from your face to where you'd gripped his sleeve and back again a few times over. A thin, wobbly smile snuck across his lips, making his relief obvious despite his conscious efforts to hide it. A peek of sharp canines glinted from the gap as he shot you a crooked, sheepish grin, despite being nearly as red in the face as his signature coat.

"Y-Yeah!" He winced at the way his own voice cracked, oblivious to just how endearing you found it. "Yeah, heh, no problem! Let me, let me get my… I'll be right back. Five minutes? Give me five minutes, pinkie promise."

He even interlocked his pinkie with your own, a small, familiar laugh sneaking out before he slipped, momentarily, from your grasp. You watched as he stumbled down the hall to his own room, fumbled the door handle once, twice, banging his body into the wooden frame before managing to get it open, never once taking his eyes off you until the door slipped closed. Cute.

You stepped into your own room, clicking on the bedside lamp and flooding it in a warm, yellowed glow. Shedding your day clothes as quickly as possible, you kicked them into a heap in the corner and scrambled into your pajamas, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Without Vash's buzzing, eager energy at your side you had just enough time before he returned to briefly feel incredibly embarrassed at your show of need, face growing hot as you replayed the little scene over and over in your mind. Your hand around his sleeve, his expressions, your choice of words… God, you were so obvious. Had he really not picked up on it at all? But he seemed so eager, as eager as you were at the very least. Maybe he wasn't the only one who had been a little oblivious lately.

True to his word, it couldn't have been more than five minutes before you heard a soft knock on the door to your room. Standing on the other side was Vash, not clad in his signature red jacket but rather his familiar, beige pajamas. The worn out shirt hung loose around the collar with the sleeves draping just long enough to cover half of his hands, the loose elastic of the sweatpants held tight with an old, white drawstring. His hair was floppy and now shower-damp, hanging partially in his face as he gave you that so soft, so sweet little smile.

"You look comfy." He said, voice as soft as his grin.

"I could say the same for you." You responded, cracking a similar smile. Stepping to the side you let him join you in your room, door closing with a soft click as a palpable air of… something simmered between you two. Tension? Nervousness? It felt like a melting pot of just about everything you had or could feel when it came to Vash. He stood awkwardly in the center of the room as you flitted around him towards the bed.

"You should probably get some rest, huh? I'll just grab a seat at…" He gestured vaguely towards one of the two chairs set at the table by the window, words dropping from his lips as he watched you pat the open space in the bed next to you. He blinked again, face flushing pink once more.

"...Only if you want to." You added softly. He visibly swallowed, nodding so gently you could have almost missed it, and set his glasses on the nightstand with a soft clack. Carefully, hesitantly, he pulled back the covers and let himself into the bed beside you, moving like he was afraid at any moment you were going to change your mind and ask him to leave. 

You would never. You wanted him beside you. At all times, always.

He clicked off the lamp, and the two of you were plunged into darkness. A single stream of moonlight filtered between the thin curtains, falling diagonally across the bedroom floor and providing just enough light for you to keep Vash's face in view. When the two of you shared a sleeping bag for the first time the closeness was a necessity, there was nowhere else for you to go in the tiny shared space. But even now, with the width of the bed slim but still far greater than a sleeping bag could provide, you couldn't help but press yourself close to him. As always he was warm, so warm, heat radiating under the thin covers to soothe you, a constant thrum of energy just beneath his skin even when he was relaxed and doe-eyed as he was with you right now, laying on his side mirroring you, unable to look away. 

In this moment you couldn't help but consider that Vash was more alive than you had ever been in your own lifetime, or that you ever would be. He was a walking enigma, incredibly powerful yet so gentle, capable of such inhuman feats but so intimately, painfully fragile. Maybe you'd never fully understand him the way you wanted to, maybe there would always be secrets he couldn't share or stories he wouldn't tell. But you didn't mind, not as long as he was yours and you were his.

"Hi." He murmured, breath hot against your lips, that small, sappy smile never leaving his own.

"Hi." You replied. "Is this… Is this okay?"

"Yes." There was a relief in his voice, a borderline reverence. His hand hovered, briefly, coming to rest on the small of your hip and sending a jolt of need crawling up your spine fast enough to give you a headrush. "Are we… okay?"

"Always."

He let out a low, shuddering breath, hand flexing around your hip. "I haven't… I want… I want…" His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again. He let out another breath, a short, warm huff as he hesitated, brow knit like even now he was afraid of the oncoming rejection, the inevitable hurt.

The two of you really had been completely oblivious, hadn't you?

You closed the gap yourself. Slowly, carefully, for no more than a few moments, you pressed your lips to his. He gasped when you did, a sharp, surprised inhale through his nose before his entire body seemed to melt into your several points of contact: your legs, his hand on your hip, your lips. You watched his eyes slide open again after you pulled away, crease in his brow receding as he blinked at you, almost owlishly.

"You kissed me." He murmured, that air of reverence returning to his voice.

"I did." You said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, and that's because it was.

"You'll… You'll always be in danger. You know that, right?"

"I do."

"We're always going to be moving. You wouldn't rather settle down somewhere nice?"

"Not if you're not there."

He sucked in another shaky breath, corners of his eyes growing glassy and wet. "It won't… It won't be easy. Being with me. It's hard."

"Vash." You cupped his face with your hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I promise you it's not. It's really not."

He positively beamed, knocking his forehead against yours as he burst into quiet giggles. "You're really amazing, you know? You're the most amazing person I've ever met."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" Your own laughter joined his, and any hint of apprehension or concern Vash may have still held seemed to melt away in the face of your smile. "Now shush. Kiss me again."

He was clumsy, clearly overeager as he pressed his lips to yours once more. It started as another soft, fluttering thing, then a second, then a third, before you tipped your chin up and opened your mouth into the next kiss, inviting him to do the same. Fingers tangled in his soft hair, you pressed further into him, tasting honey and sunlight as you licked into his open mouth and he moaned against your lips. You didn't even realize he was moving you until you found yourself on your back, Vash's sturdy build boxing you in, knees framing your thighs as his teeth clicked wetly against yours and he groaned again at the feeling of your mouth moving against his. It was a messy, relief-stricken thing, like finding sweet, cool water after a day trekking across the open dunes. His still-flesh hand gripped your hip, fingertips indenting your soft skin, but his prosthetic hand cradled your cheek so gently, with such veneration it could have brought you to tears. There was a wet smack and a sharp gasp when he finally pulled away, like he was coming up for air. A single sticky strand of saliva still connected your lips, and as you swiped it off of his lower lip with a smile he gave you a sheepish grin in return.

"You gotta breathe through your nose, Vash."

"I know, I just…" He watches as you bring your thumb to your mouth, licking off the smear of spit there. He gulps, teeth worrying his lower lip. "...Just got a bit sidetracked, is all."

When he leaned back in a second time his target wasn't your lips, but the gentle slope of your neck. He placed a featherlight kiss upon you, relaxing when he heard your content hum and your fingers carded through the hairs at the base of his neck. Then he sucked a mark into the soft junction between your neck and exposed collarbone, teeth grazing and tongue lathing over the sensitive spot as you writhed beneath Vash's touch. His breath ghosted hotly over your neck, goosebumps prickling out across your skin as heat pooled low and eager in your stomach and you fisted one hand in the front of Vash's night shirt.

"Vash." You whined, and his low groan in response rumbled out against your already sensitive neck. "Vash." You moaned again, louder this time, needy but not completely sure what for. 

"Hmm?" His questioning hum was barely discernible from his soft, pleased groans, only the uptick at the end of the throaty sound cluing you in that Vash had even heard you at all. His lips rested on the curve of your jaw, thumb trailing back and forth across your cheekbone. You fisted the back of his shirt in one hand and tangled the other in his messy hair, whimpering at each barely-there kiss he left as he trailed his way up your jawbone to your ear. "You're so soft. So, so soft."

His lips brushed the shell of your ear and you couldn't help yourself, whining as your hips jerked up against his. His breath stuttered and he jolted back from you to blink with wide, shocked eyes. Immediately a hot flush of shame coursed through your body, searing behind your eyes and cheeks. Was he disappointed? Disgusted? 

"I'm so sorry." If you could shrink back and disappear you would, but it's not like there was anywhere for you to go. Vash's brow furrowed again for a moment before his eyes blew wide once more, immediately taking your face in both hands as gently as he could.

"No, no it's alright! There's nothing wrong you just- just surprised me a little! That's not bad! I just- Aw jeez." He pressed a kiss to your lips, then your nose, then your forehead. "Please don't cry. I promise I'm not upset or anything, so don't cry, okay?"

"I'm not gonna cry! I'm just… embarrassed." You mumbled between squished cheeks, eyes trained down and away from Vash's sympathetic smile.

“There’s no need to be.”

“I know that.” You whined, covering your eyes with the palm of your hand. You felt another fluttering kiss on the tip of your nose, and peeked through your fingers to find Vash beaming at you. There was a cautious apprehension behind his eyes now though, a similar fear to what you knew you were currently feeling.

“There is, uh, something I have to tell you though.” He fidgeted a little, not quite meeting your gaze. “It’s just that my body is kinda… Well, it’s a little… different? And I don’t want to freak you out or anything. But if you do freak out… That’s probably completely valid, I’ll be honest.”

“Vash, I’ve seen your scars before. You know I don’t mind, right?”

He winced a little, lower lip jutting out in a bit of a pout. “...That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s a… It’s a PLANT thing.”

“Oh.” As Vash sat back on your thighs you propped yourself up a bit to meet his gaze. “Well, that’s alright too. I won’t judge you for anything you can’t control, Vash.”

“Yeah but it’s… It’s pretty out there.”

“Try me.”

Vash opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it, then shut it again, blush crawling its way up his cheeks with his fisted hands tucked into his lap. He twiddled his thumbs, worried his lower lip with his sharp teeth, and still failed to meet your gaze. 

"It's, uh, it's just that it's a bit… different. My, uh… y'know?"

You'd been pretty oblivious to Vash's affections for you, but that didn't mean you were stupid. The way his gaze flickered down and then back up again when he spoke? The way one hand fisted the fabric of his pants and the other remained firmly tucked between his thighs, not quite against his crotch but definitely blocking it from your view? You could at least put those puzzle pieces together.

You rubbed the top of his knee with your hand, and tension seemed to melt from his stance with your touch alone.

"Would you… be willing to show me?"

He grimaced a bit, continuing to nibble on his lower lip until you ran the thumb of your other hand across it, trying to soothe the reddened skin. "I just don't want to freak you out or anything, is all."

"You really think at this point there's anything you could do or say to freak me out?" You bumped your forehead against his, the same way he had for you just moments ago. "Hate to break it to you, but you're kind of stuck with me now." He barked out a laugh, saying nothing but finally meeting your gaze, so you continued. "I don't want you to feel like you have to make yourself uncomfortable for my sake, but I also don't want you to run away from me. You trust me, right?"

"I do."

"Then trust that I won't run away either. I promise. I just want you, Vash, that's all."

He sucked in a shuddering breath, nodding softly against you. "Yeah. I want you too." Looking up at you through his eyelashes, he flashed you a cartoonish pout. "Maybe if someone gave me another kiss I'd get a bit braver?"

"You dork." You giggled, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him breathless once more. He leaned into you again, mouth open and eager, finally letting his hands trail back up your body where you'd wanted them. "Wait, switch with me."

"Hrmm? Whoa!" You wrestled Vash to the side, rolling the two of you over until you were now the one straddling his hips, not the other way around. He blinked up at you, mouth agape and lips slightly slick as he took in your form in the pale moonlight. "Oh. I could get used to a view like this."

With a single, sudden twist upwards of your arms, you pulled off your shirt and let it fall somewhere off the side of the bed, baring your chest to him fully. Vash gasped, hands squeezing against your soft sides as his gaze raked over your form.

"This one too…" He murmured. Trailing your fingertips down the length of his chest, you fiddled with the hem at the bottom of his shirt, lifting a bit but not quite tugging.

"This okay?" 

He nodded, hands joining yours to help wrestle his shirt off over his head. Immediately you were upon him, a featherlight trail of lips and fingertips upon every inch of scarred skin, tracing the outline of the metal reinforcement over his left pectoral as gently as you could. Your thighs squeezed around his hips, the front of his loose pajama pants tented and straining where they met your clothed core. He was big, that much was obvious. Another roll of your hips, not accidental this time but intentional, left Vash gasping out a sharp, labored wheeze as his hips finally jerked forward against yours.

"Sensitive." He panted, shuddering helplessly as his hips stuttered forward again. "C-Careful, it's sensitive."

That sensitive, with several layers of clothes still between you? Now you were getting really curious. You rolled your hips again, friction sparking pleasure up your spine but it was nothing compared to the way Vash positively mewled, back arching and hips rutting erratically to meet you. A dark, damp spot was beginning to seep through the fabric at the tip. You cupped his clothed length with your hand as gently as you could. 'Sensitive.' You reminded yourself. But a bolt of surprise rocketed through you instead when you could swear that, just for a moment, you felt his cock squirm against you, pressing up into your hand without the aid of his hips.

"Please don't freak out." Vash wheezed. You squeezed his length again, pressing in firmly, but it was impossible to tell what writhing was from Vash squirming around and what came from, well, Vash squirming around.

"I'm not freaking out." You reassured him, and in all honesty you weren't. Were you surprised? Of course! But there wasn't really anything about Vash that could truly "freak you out" anymore, even this. You stroked his length through the fabric once more and watched that wet spot at the tip bloom farther and darker, Vash shivering like he'd just touched a live wire. "Is it okay to take these off? Only if you're okay with it."

You hooked a finger into the waistband and waited, Vash's gaze laser focused in on your hand. Slowly, carefully, he nodded. Fingers looped in the elastic of both his pajama pants and his boxers, you gave him plenty of time to change his mind as you tugged them down, Vash letting out a quiet, hitched gasp when his cock sprung free.

Well, Vash certainly wasn't lying about it being different. Arching upwards from between his legs was what you could only describe as a tentacle, thick base sprouting from slick folds at the apex of his thighs. It curled upwards towards his belly and tapered slim at the tip, beading semi-translucent liquid that dribbled down the length of the shaft. It wasn't the same shade as his skin; It was closer to a bluish-white, marked up the length with abstract patterning similar to the glyphs on the outside bulb of a PLANT. Vaguely you wondered if it was always out like this, or if it settled itself snugly within those wet, petal pink folds when he wasn't aroused. You had to think it did, if Vash was as sensitive as he made himself out to be, otherwise he'd be on the verge of cumming with each step he took.

On second thought, that wasn't a bad image either.

Vash gulped, squirming a bit under your gaze, knees pulling together but unable to close fully with your body in the way. "So, uh, you're not screaming. I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a good sign!" You smoothed a hand up the length of his thigh, pausing right at the junction of his hip, and his cock twitched towards you subconsciously like a writhing tendril. He seemed to shrink in on himself a little at this, shoulders pulling up towards his ears as he anticipated your reaction.

"Vash, God Vash… Do you even have any idea how pretty you are?" He had to know, you couldn't let him wake up tomorrow and just bumble around for the rest of his life not knowing. He was ethereal, scarred skin painted in hues of blush pink, cheeks burning, eyes soft and wide… He had to be a PLANT, because it just wasn't feasible for a normal human to be this achingly beautiful. "You're so, so pretty Vash."

"Oh." His breathing shuddered, hips twitching when you squeezed down on the fat of his thigh. 

"Sensitive, right? I'll be careful, just tell me if it's too much, okay?" Fingertips trailing off the junction of his hip, you finally, finally, closed your palm around his length. It was hot, slick to the touch everywhere you put your fingers on it, and you could swear for just a moment that those glyphs pulsed with a faint blue-white light as Vash whimpered. "This is okay?"

He nodded furiously, hands fisting the bed sheets as he all but gasped for air. "Good! It's good. I haven't, it's been a long time since I- ohhh please…" Another bead of thick, slippery pre-cum drooled from the tip, slicking your palm as you moved it so slowly up the length of his cock, squeezing slightly on the downstroke and making Vash's back go concave against the mattress as he moaned. Heat burned low in your core, and you wrestled a hand down the front of your pajama pants to stroke your own slick folds directly. You couldn't help but picture how the silky writhing of his cock would feel inside of your pussy, slick oozing around where your bodies would meet as it pushed upwards into your aching core…

"Me too…" Vash groaned, hand grabbing for the waistband of your pants as he struggled to sit up. "Lemme touch you too, please." You stumbled off the bed for only a moment, but it was still far enough to make Vash whine at your lack of contact. Slick from Vash's cock smeared across the fabric as you wrestled both the pants and your underwear onto the floor before crawling back into Vash's lap like you couldn't stand to be away from him for another moment. His hands found your hips the moment you were within reach, rubbing soothingly up and down the outer curve of your thighs as he stared down at you, eyes swirling with arousal and adoration.

"Beautiful." He murmured, pressing his lips once more against the curve of your neck. "Tell me what you like, tell me how I can make you feel good."

Hand around his wrist, you guided him to the dark patch of hair between your legs. His fingers crooked carefully, curiously, two fingertips swiping upwards through your wet folds and catching over your clit. He shuddered when you moaned, the very act of giving you pleasure seeming to do him the same. Finding your clit again, he rubbed over it with his fingertips in slow, almost soothing circles.

"That's good." You cooed, taking him in hand again. "You're so good for me, Vash, such a good boy."

"Yes!" He moaned, his metal hand coming around to grip your ass, urging you to roll your hips against his hand. "Yes, 'm good, I'm so good." Sharp teeth dragged over your collarbone, just hard enough to send a prickle of pleasure up your spine. As you began to rock your hips he pressed his hand further in, letting you grind your clit against the heel of his palm as he slid his middle finger into your entrance. The intrusion was slick, effortless, and you couldn't help but moan as he curled his finger against your soft, hot walls. You pumped him again, another thick glob of pre-cum dribbling over your fingers as his cock wriggled in your grasp. "You feel so good inside." He continued to babble, drooling against your neck as he whined and gasped. "Wanna… wanna feel you, so bad…"

"Yeah?" You purred, shifting your hips further up his. With how keyed up you were you doubted you'd even be able to last more than a thrust or two with Vash inside you, but still you wanted. Nudging his hand out from between your legs, you shifted your hips down to trap his cock in between your pussy and his tense stomach as you rolled your hips and let it slip messily back and forth between your folds. Vash positively howled, head tossed back against the pillows as his other hand came around to grip your ass as well.

"Yes! Yes, please, oh please wanna make you feel so good." Shifting your hips to align his tip with your entrance, he peppered wet kisses across your neck and up your cheek as you hovered over him. You tipped your head to catch his lips with your own, moaning into his eager mouth as you finally let him nudge into you. Euphoria crackled up your spine with each small movement, an almost unbearable heat between the two of you as he shifted you so gently down his slick cock. It was almost effortless the way he slid inside, your combined wetness leaving no room for pain around the incredible pleasure as he stuffed you full, coiling and massaging your walls as you finally found your thighs resting on his and your lungs gasping for air.

"Oh, oh Vash." He shuddered at the sound of your name leaving his lips, hips snapping forward and once again driving the breath out of you as white-hot pleasure exploded behind your eyelids.

"Sorry, 'm sorry, not gonna last. Gotta make you cum, fuck, please cum for me…" His chest pressed to yours and his face pressed into the curve of your jaw, his hips thrust forward again, and again, wriggling one hand in between your sweaty bodies to thumb eagerly at your clit, rolling the swollen bud beneath the pad. You wailed, pleasure prickling tears at the corners of your eyes as your stomach coiled tighter, pushed you higher. 

A sharp blossom of pain erupted from the crook of your neck, making you cry out as Vash growled against your skin. His sharp canines dug into your sensitive flesh, bruising the soft skin there and blooming pain and pleasure into a swirling cocktail of overwhelming sensation. You dug your nails hard into the flesh of his back, shivering helplessly in his grip. The desert had been cruel, and crueler still had been its people, but you would make sure that any marks you left on Vash would be ones he wasn't ashamed to show, to feel.

"Love you." You sobbed, bleary-eyed and desperate for release, babbling similar nonsense to Vash as you tumbled into pleasure-drunk ecstasy. "Love you, I love you I love you Vash!"

He wailed, teeth pressing further into your soft neck, hips stuttering forward once, twice more before he finally shuddered, pouring his load into your awaiting core. Molten heat flooded your pussy, sending you tumbling into your own release. Rapture flooded your senses, writhing in Vash's hold as waves of pleasure overtook you, walls fluttering helplessly around his length again, and again, and again. He was spilling so much into you, you could feel it pooling out around where the two of you were joined, slicking his thighs and inevitably staining the sheets below. Even as your own orgasm began to subside, little aftershocks of pleasure sparking in your mind, he was still spilling more into your fluttering heat.

"I love you." He sobbed into your neck, drool and tears dampening your skin as he clutched you tight, so tight. "Love you so much." His tongue lathed over the bruise his teeth had left behind, a silent apology for daring to leave a single mark upon your body. With a final, shaky thrust of his hips, he seemed to spill the last of his cum into you, muscles relaxing with a stifled groan. You curled a hand in the hair at the base of his neck, pressing a kiss to his temple as he nuzzled into you. He whined as his cock seemed to slip from your heat of its own accord, another gush of hot slick spilling from your entrance as it went limp.

"I've got you, baby." You cooed. Slumping gently into his lap and ignoring the sticky-slick feeling cooling between your bodies, you let yourself melt fully into Vash's gentle hold.

"...They're probably gonna charge you extra for cleaning, you know?" He quipped, and you could feel him grimace a little at the tacky feeling between your thighs. "A lot extra."

"I'll take my chances." 

He guffawed against your neck, dragging you down to the mattress with him in a sticky heap. You curled into the curve of his body, head resting on his shoulder. His arm immediately rose to curl around you, pulling you tight against his side.

"Mmh, we should probably clean up." You mumbled, eyelids already beginning to flutter.

"...Five minutes?" He rumbled, pressing his nose into the crook of your jaw.

"Mmm… Five minutes."

[pendarling]

A Discussion

Villain watched mournfully as Hero packed their clothes back into their bags and collected their items along with it too. It wasn't like Villain could keep Hero imprisoned forever in their home, but a piece of them wished they were able to keep Hero convinced to stay one more night.

With their jacket wrapped around their shoulders, Hero lifted the luggage. "I'll be off then." They leaned down to kiss Villain, who had laid on the couch with their arms crossed.

"You could quit your job." They said although they knew it wouldn't work. After all, Hero was a very dedicated citizen and remained loyal to their day job aside from all the hero work. "Or you could quit!" They called out as Hero moved toward the door to put on their shoes; Villain sat up, waiting eagerly for a response—anything to keep Hero in their arms.

"I can't quit my job, how else am I supposed to make a living?" They chuckled briefly and continued tying their shoes.

"No, I meant to stop all the hero stuff. It doesn't necessarily pay you to be good."

"Or..." Hero turned, "You could quit, and we can both work a normal day job."

Villain sighed, reluctant and partially annoyed that, once again, they failed to convince Hero to be anything but what they were now. "What if I..." They trailed off, hesitant at their next idea, "What if I were to kidnap you, then you would have to stay with me."

"And what about my apartment?" Hero's head tilted. "Who will be paying the bills in my absence?"

"Who cares about some shitty apartment, Hero. Everything you need is right here!" They pointed to the kitchen counter. "Look, you won't even bother to pick up the bowl that you brought because you know that next weekend, you'll wanna stay here with me instead."

Hero dismissed it with a shrug, still standing idly by the door, a smirk playing on their lips as they watched Villain's desperate attempts at getting them to stay, "Who says I'll be here next week? If I keep coming and going, someone will become a little suspicious."

Villain threw up their arms, "Let them be suspicious! Let them speculate!"

"My peers will call me a traitor. I need my friends to know they can trust me." Hero bit their lip. They had to admit that having a large group of heroes so tightly familiar with them was turning out to be an obstacle, but they couldn't simply leave either.

"Those hero friends of yours again," Villain leaned back with a loud scoff; they knew if anything, Villain hated them more than the world. Always on Villain's tail, ruining another plan. "Why do you always need their permission to do stuff. It's your life."

"Dear--"

"You could have whatever you want," Their arms stretched out, then pointed to themselves, "I could get it for you."

"I know." Hero stepped closer, "It's just until this is all over."

"When?" They egged. Neither of them knew the timeframe when would come a time when it would be appropriate to be together, but throwing tghe question out there would give them something to think about. One way or another, they'd have to conclude.

The room fell into silence.

Hero rubbed their temple, "Okay, I'll text you later." They reached for the door; Villain jumped up and rushed to the door to wrap their arms around Hero one last time.

"I love you, honey."

"I love you too." They kissed shortly, "Don't stay up too late."

"You know I can't sleep without you next to me."

"Look at the stars, my love. I'll be underneath them too."

~~~

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[suzannahnatters]

Let Your Knights Weep

One of the big things I've had to train myself out of when writing medieval historical fiction?

The stiff upper lip.

This used to really bewilder my editor, who for some time attempted to nudge me away from having my grown men weep and wail and blubber, but for me it's an essential part of the setting. Whether in grief or fear, medieval people did not hold things back.

Here are some of my favourite quotes to explain.

First, a couple from two great 20th century medievalists:

CS Lewis in his Letters put it this way:

“By the way, don't 'weep inwardly' and get a sore throat. If you must weep, weep: a good honest howl! I suspect we - and especially, my sex - don't cry enough now-a-days. Aeneas and Hector and Beowulf, Roland and Lancelot blubbered like schoolgirls, so why shouldn't we?”

Dorothy Sayers, in her fabulous Introduction to her translation of THE SONG OF ROLAND, speaking of Charlemagne discovering Roland's body on the battlefield:

Here too, I think we must not reckon it weakness in him that he is overcome by grief for Roland’s death, that he faints upon the body and has to be raised up by the barons and supported by them while he utters his lament. There are fashions in sensibility as in everything else. The idea that a strong man should react to great personal and national calamities by a slight compression of the lips and by silently throwing his cigarette into the fireplace is of very recent origin. By the standards of feudal epic, Charlemagne’s behaviour is perfectly correct. Fainting, weeping, and lamenting is what the situation calls for. The assembled knights and barons all decorously follow his example. They punctuate his lament with appropriate responses:

By hundred thousand the French for sorrow sigh; There’s none of them but utters grievous cries.

At the end of the next laisse:

He tears his beard that is so white of hue, Tears from his head his white hair by the roots; And of the French an hundred thousand swoon.

We may take this response as being ritual and poetic; grief, like everything else in the Epic, is displayed on the heroic scale. Though men of the eleventh century did, in fact, display their emotions much more openly than we do, there is no reason to suppose that they made a practice of fainting away in chorus. But the gesture had their approval; that was how they liked to think of people behaving. In every age, art holds up to us the standard pattern of exemplary conduct, and real life does its best to conform. From Charlemagne’s weeping and fainting we can draw no conclusions about his character except that the poet has represented him as a perfect model of the “man of feeling” in the taste of the period.

OK, now let's dig into some quotes that I found just in Christopher Tyerman's Chronicles of the First Crusade and Joinville's Life of St Louis:

Truly you would have grieved and sobbed in pity when the Turks killed any of our men....

As for the knights, they stood about in a great state of gloom, wringing their hands because they were so frightened and miserable, not knowing what to do with themselves and their armour, and offering to sell their shields, valuable breastplates and helmets for threepence or fivepence or any price they could get....

When Guy, who was a very honourable knight, had heard these lies, he and all the others began to weep and to make loud lamentation....

They stayed in the houses cowering, some some for hunger and some for fear of the Turks....

Now at vigils, the time of trust in God’s compassion, many gave up hope and hurriedly lowered themselves with ropes from the wall-tops; and in the city soldiers, returning from the encounter, circulated widely a rumour that mass decapitation of the defenders was in store. To add weight to the terror, they too fled…

In the course of that day’s battle there had been many people, and of fine appearance too, who had come very shamefully flying over the little bridge you know of and had fled away so panic-stricken that all our attempts to make them stay with us had been in vain. I could tell you some of their names, but shall refrain from doing so, because they are now dead.

I could go on looking for quotes in all the other medieval literature I've read, but that would be beyond the scope of this Tumblr post.

In the meantime, this leads me to make some comments on how trauma was perceived.

In Jonathan Riley-Smith's The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading, the author discusses the mental breakdowns suffered by the first crusaders during the second siege of Antioch, which caused many of them to flee at the moment of direst need:

In these stressful circumstances it is not surprising that the crusaders were often very frightened. At times, indeed, they seem to have been almost paralysed by a terror that they themselves could hardly comprehend. … When the crusade was bottled up in Antioch by Kerbogha's relief force it was gripped by such blind panic that there was the prospect of a mass break-out and on the night of 10 or 11 Juney 1098 Bohemond and Adhemar had the gates of the city closed. It is worth noting that many of those whom later chroniclers, writing after the events in comparative comfort in Europe, vilified for cowardice and desertion seem to have been treated more charitably by their fellow-crusaders, who must have understood what pressures they had been under.

--

In conclusion: the way we feel about things today in the English-speaking isn't necessarily the way people felt about things in the past (and this goes for other cultures, real or imagined, too). I'm continually catching myself writing people with stiff upper lips and emotional reservations, and having to remind myself that the culture was different back them. If a grown man wanted to weep, he could. That's a good thing. (Oh, and my medieval historical fantasy? Check out the Watchers of Outremer series on Amazon or wherever books are sold!)