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yassbishimvintage · 3 days ago

Text

Trick'n (Studio pt 2)

Warnings: Fluff, Smut

A/N: This is for the grown and sexy. Enjoy.

Word Count: 10.1k

Banner by @cafekitsune

Amari sits in her townhouse, her thoughts swirling as she absentmindedly stirs her drink. The past few days feel like a blur of emotions, decisions, and moments that are slowly becoming more complicated. She glances around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings of her space—the soft glow of the lights, the calm of the evening settling in. Yet, her mind keeps drifting back to Brendan and everything that’s unfolded between them.

The gift of the G-Wagon, the lingering moments of closeness, the kiss... it all feels like more than just a casual connection. She never imagined things would move so fast, especially when they had so much unspoken tension hanging between them. She thought she could keep things light, professional even, but now? It’s hard to ignore the pull between them.

She can’t help but smile at the memory of his easy grin when he handed her the key, his confidence and sincerity almost disarming. But with every action, with every gesture, she starts questioning where this all leads. He’s given her so much—more than she expected, more than she’s ready for. A part of her feels overwhelmed, another part feels grateful, and yet another part wonders if this is really what she wants.

Amari stands up and moves to the window, staring out at the quiet street. It’s a calm night, the city lights twinkling in the distance. She takes a deep breath, trying to clear her mind, but her thoughts are stubborn, always returning to Brendan. The way he looks at her, the way his touch feels, it’s undeniable. But does that mean she’s ready for more? Is she ready for the messier, deeper side of what they’re starting to build?

She turns back toward her couch, her eyes falling on the key sitting on the coffee table. It’s a symbol of his intentions—he’s not just giving her a car, he’s giving her something bigger, something more meaningful. It’s easy to feel torn when someone offers you everything, and yet, it feels like there’s so much she hasn’t figured out yet.

Her phone buzzes on the table, pulling her out of her thoughts. It’s a message from him: "Hope you’re good. Just wanted to check in."

Amari sighs, running a hand through her hair. She knows what she wants to say, but there’s a hesitation. What exactly does she want from this? What does she need? She could respond, keep it light, or she could dive deeper into what’s between them. It’s a choice she’s going to have to make sooner or later.

With another deep breath, she picks up her phone and starts typing.

The truth was, she had no idea where things were headed with Brendan. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized one thing: she couldn’t ignore the chemistry between them. She couldn’t pretend that his presence in her life didn’t make everything feel just a little bit more alive. But, she knew it was going to be a balancing act—between who she was, who he was, and the world they both occupied.

She glanced at her phone again. Another message from him popped up: "You still thinking about things? Or can I convince you to join me for dinner?"

She hesitated for a moment before typing back: "I’ll be there. But we need to talk."

She hit send, already knowing the conversation ahead wouldn’t be easy, but it was necessary.

Amari stood outside the door to Brendan’s penthouse, a mix of anticipation and apprehension settling in her chest. She had been thinking about this conversation for hours, replaying her pros and cons list, trying to decide how best to approach the situation. One thing was clear—she wasn’t walking into this blindly. She wasn’t just some fleeting moment in his life. But as much as she wanted to hold her ground, there was a part of her that still yearned for the connection they had.

She took a deep breath and knocked.

The door swung open, revealing Brendan standing shirtless in the doorway, his toned frame illuminated by the soft light of the apartment. He flashed that easy, confident smile that always made her heart skip a beat. In his hands was a plate of food, and the rich aroma of the meal hit her instantly.

“Hey, Mari,” he greeted her, stepping aside to let her in. “Dinner’s ready. Hope you’re hungry.”

Amari stepped inside, the warmth of the room wrapping around her. She noticed the dim lights, the table set with candles, and the relaxed vibe of the space. Despite his casual appearance—shirtless, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips—there was a certain charm to his laid-back demeanor.

She smiled weakly, but her mind was still on the conversation she needed to have. “You didn’t have to go all out,” she said, trying to keep her tone light, even though her heart was heavy with the weight of their unspoken issues.

He gave her a knowing look, his eyes soft but mischievous. “I didn’t think you’d mind,” he said as he moved to place the plate down on the coffee table. “Come on, let’s eat.”

Amari took a seat, her fingers brushing the edge of the plate before she glanced up at him. “We need to talk about us, Brendan.”

He paused, looking at her with an intensity that told her he was listening. His lips curled slightly, but there was something behind his expression—curiosity, concern, maybe even a hint of apprehension. He sat beside her, the space between them charged with tension. “Alright,” he said, his voice steady. “What’s on your mind?”

Amari took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts before speaking. “I’ve been thinking about everything. About us. About what we’re doing. I can’t pretend like things are just simple, like I’m not getting emotionally involved in something that feels... bigger than I expected.”

Brendan shifted slightly, leaning back as he gave her his full attention. “You’re not wrong. This thing between us—” He trailed off, seemingly weighing his words carefully. “I get it. It’s not just some fling for me either.”

She frowned, her gaze searching his face. “Then why does it feel like we’re both just caught up in something we don’t fully understand? Like you’re living this life that I’m not sure I’m ready for... or even if I can handle.”

Brendan’s expression softened, and he gently took her hand in his, his thumb brushing against her skin. “Mari, I get it. I know what I’m offering isn’t always... stable. My career, my life, it’s a rollercoaster, and I can’t promise that everything’s going to be perfect. But I’m not asking you to be a part of some mess. I just want you in my life. I want you with me. The rest, we can figure out.”

She looked down at their hands, her heart pounding in her chest. His words were sincere, but there was still so much uncertainty. She had questions that she needed answers to. “What happens when things get harder? When your schedule is even more chaotic? When the attention on you gets more intense? What happens when we can’t just turn everything off and pretend like we’re just two people having a good time?”

Brendan paused, the weight of her questions settling in the room. His voice was quieter when he spoke, but it held a sense of honesty that she couldn’t ignore. “I can’t promise that everything will be easy, Mari. But I can promise I won’t just walk away when it gets tough. You and me—we have something real. It might not be the easiest thing, but I want to try. Do you?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she looked into his eyes, searching for the truth behind his words. What they had was undeniable—intense, passionate, and full of potential. But could she trust herself to navigate the complexity of their connection? Could she handle being in his world, knowing that it would never be simple?

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but firm. “I’m willing to try. But I need to know you’re all in. That this isn’t just some phase, that you’re not going to disappear when things get difficult.”

Brendan nodded, his grip on her hand tightening just slightly. “I’m in, Mari. I’m all in. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it.”

The tension between them seemed to ease, the air feeling lighter as they both sat there, surrounded by the quiet hum of the apartment. The future was still uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, Amari felt like she had a clearer sense of where she stood.

With a small, tentative smile, she finally said, “Alright. Let’s figure this out together.”

Brendan smiled back, his relief palpable. “Together.”

As Amari smiled, her gaze met Brendan’s, and for a moment, it felt like time had slowed. His hazel eyes, warm and intense, seemed to search her face, as if he were looking for something—reassurance, perhaps, or confirmation that she truly meant what she had said. She could see the sincerity in his expression, the vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored her own.

The way he looked at her made her feel seen—really seen—in a way that was both comforting and terrifying. It was like he could read her thoughts, understand the conflict in her mind without her saying a word. For a brief moment, the weight of everything they’d talked about seemed to lift, replaced by something softer, something more genuine.

She swallowed the knot in her throat, her heart fluttering as she reached out and gently touched his arm. The warmth of his skin under her fingertips sent a spark through her, grounding her in the present.

“I don’t know where this will go,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “But I want to try. To see where it takes us.”

Brendan’s smile widened, and he leaned closer, brushing his lips against her forehead in a tender kiss. “That’s all I need to hear, Mari.”

His kiss lingered for a moment longer, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to bask in the comfort of his touch. In that instant, everything else—the confusion, the uncertainty—seemed to fade away, leaving only the connection they had built together.

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a mix of playfulness and vulnerability. “So, are we going to eat, or are we just going to stare at each other all night?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood, though her heart still raced in her chest.

Brendan chuckled, the sound low and warm, before reaching for the plate of food on the table. “We can stare at each other later,” he said, his voice teasing but affectionate. “Let’s eat first. Then we can figure out the rest.”

Amari smiled, her anxiety eased for the moment, as she settled back into the couch, feeling a sense of peace she hadn’t expected. She was here, with him, ready to take the next step—whatever that might be. And for now, that was enough.

Later, as the evening settled into a quiet rhythm, Amari found herself sprawled out across Brendan’s chest, her head resting comfortably against him. The faint beat of his heart thumped softly under her ear, a reassuring sound that calmed her racing thoughts. The apartment was dimly lit, with only the soft glow from the city lights filtering in through the windows, casting shadows across the room.

Brendan’s arm was draped around her, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on her back, his touch slow and deliberate. It felt like the world outside was fading away, leaving only the two of them in this intimate, peaceful bubble.

She took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of his skin, the faint cologne he wore mixed with the smell of the food they’d shared earlier. The closeness, the softness of his touch, it made her feel both grounded and vulnerable in ways she hadn’t anticipated. She knew they had just begun to scratch the surface of whatever this was, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a fling.

Amari tilted her head to look up at him, catching his gaze. His hazel eyes were soft, almost sleepy, but there was something more—something unspoken between them that seemed to hang in the air.

“You know,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “I never really thought about what I wanted in all this... I was too focused on the fact that I shouldn’t want it.”

Brendan’s gaze softened, his hand gently running through her hair. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

Amari hesitated, her fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. “I mean, I spent so much time convincing myself that I should stay away from someone like you... That it would just be a mess. But now… I’m not so sure anymore.”

Brendan’s fingers stilled on her back, but his expression didn’t change. “And now?” he asked, his tone patient, as if waiting for her to find the words.

She looked up at him, her heart hammering in her chest. "Now, I think... I think I might be ready to stop running from it. From us." Her voice trembled slightly, but there was a quiet confidence behind her words. "I’m not saying it’ll be easy. I’m not saying I won’t second-guess myself at times. But maybe it’s time I stopped overthinking it.”

A soft smile tugged at Brendan’s lips as he leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not going anywhere, Mari. I’m here. And I’ll be here when things get complicated, when the world starts pushing against us.”

Amari closed her eyes, his words sinking in, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of certainty. Despite the chaos that life would inevitably throw their way, she knew she wasn’t alone in it anymore. They had something, and it was enough for now.

Brendan’s hand continued to run through her hair, his touch gentle, comforting. “Let’s just take this one step at a time,” he murmured. “We’ve got time, Mari. We’ve got time.”

She nodded against his chest, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around her like a shield. There was still so much they didn’t know, so much uncertainty in the future. But for tonight, as she lay there in his arms, everything felt exactly where it needed to be.

Amari shifted slightly, her movements slow and deliberate as she adjusted herself, now straddling Brendan. The change in position brought them even closer, her knees resting on either side of his hips. She could feel the warmth of his body beneath her, the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

Brendan looked up at her, a mix of surprise and something deeper flickering in his hazel eyes. His hands instinctively moved to rest on her hips, a touch that was both grounding and possessive. There was a quiet tension in the air now, a shift in energy that pulsed between them.

Amari paused, her gaze meeting his, searching for something—confirmation, perhaps, or a sense of clarity. She was still feeling the weight of their conversation, the admission of vulnerability that had passed between them, but there was something undeniable about the chemistry that sparked whenever they were this close.

“You sure about this?” Brendan’s voice was low, almost a whisper, his hands gently brushing against her skin. His eyes held a mixture of curiosity and care, making sure she wasn’t just acting on impulse.

She nodded slowly, the quiet confidence she’d felt earlier now solidifying in her chest. “Yeah,” she whispered back, her voice thick with intent. “I’m sure.”

Without waiting for further confirmation, she leaned down, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was gentle at first, as if testing the waters. But as they both deepened the kiss, the tension from earlier seemed to dissolve, replaced by a sense of urgency, a shared understanding that neither of them wanted to pull away just yet.

Her hands roamed to his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his skin, and his fingers tightened around her waist, guiding her movements. The energy between them shifted again—this time, it was as though the world outside had disappeared entirely, leaving only the two of them in this charged space.

She pulled back just slightly, her lips brushing against his, a soft exhale escaping her as she whispered, “I don’t want to hold back anymore, B.”

Brendan’s gaze darkened slightly, his breath shaky as he nodded, his hands running up her back, pulling her closer. “Then don’t,” he murmured, his lips capturing hers once more, this time with more intensity, more hunger.

The air between them grew thick with desire, each touch, each kiss, an exploration of unspoken emotions, a bridge between uncertainty and something real—something they both knew they couldn’t ignore.

Brendan’s expression softened at Amari’s words, the weight of her trust settling over him like a heavy, but welcome, responsibility. His hands gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he met her gaze. There was no rush in the way he looked at her, just a quiet understanding and respect.

“I don’t take that lightly,” he said softly, his voice low but full of sincerity. “You mean more to me than you realize, Mari. I won’t do anything you don’t want, and I’ll make sure you’re comfortable with every step.”

Amari could feel the warmth of his words, the reassurance in the way he held her. In that moment, she realized that this wasn’t just about the physical. It was about connection, about trust, about the depth of what they were starting to build together.

She nodded, her heart steadying as she smiled down at him. “I know. I’m not afraid with you.”

Brendan smiled back, his hand moving to the small of her back to pull her in closer. “Good,” he whispered, brushing his lips against hers once more, as if sealing the promise they had just made. There was a mutual understanding now—this wasn’t just about the moment, but about the trust they were giving each other, the respect they would continue to show.

They were both learning and growing in this, but for now, all that mattered was the quiet connection they shared, the honesty of the moment, and the warmth of knowing they were both choosing to take this next step together.

As Amari smiled, the soft warmth of the morning light still casting its glow across the room, she shifted, leaning into Brendan’s chest. He stirred slightly at the motion, but didn’t fully wake, his arm instinctively pulling her closer as she nestled herself under him. She felt safe and content, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing in the quiet morning.

She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of being wrapped in his arms, the connection they shared growing deeper with each passing day. There was a sense of calm between them, a peaceful reassurance that even though the world outside could be chaotic, here, in this space, they were just two people learning to trust and understand each other.

Brendan shifted slightly, his voice low and groggy as he mumbled, “You good?”

Amari smiled, her fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his arm as she nodded, her body still relaxed against his. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice soft. “I’m good. Better than good.”

He hummed in response, tightening his embrace, his lips pressing gently to her forehead in a silent gesture of affection. For a moment, there were no words, just the comfort of shared presence, both of them content to stay like this a little longer, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

It wasn’t just the emotional connection that made her smile—it was the understanding that they were building something real, something that went beyond the surface. And in that moment, with the quiet of the morning surrounding them, she felt more certain than ever that this was exactly where she was meant to be.

Amari watched as Brendan moved around the room, his energy a stark contrast to the stillness of the morning. She smiled softly, her eyes following the way his muscles flexed as he searched through his drawers. There was something about the way he carried himself, effortlessly confident yet grounded, that drew her in even more.

She wrapped the covers around her waist tighter, feeling the warmth of the fabric against her skin as she sat up in bed. Her thoughts lingered on the moments they’d shared last night, and the quiet morning they were now experiencing together. It felt surreal in the best way—like they were in a bubble that no one could touch.

Brendan glanced over his shoulder at her, catching her watching him. His lips curled into a playful grin, and he shrugged casually. “You look comfy there,” he said, his voice teasing but soft.

Amari couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound light and carefree. “I was just enjoying the view,” she replied, her gaze lingering on him, unabashedly appreciating how relaxed he seemed.

He chuckled, his eyes warming as he returned to his search. “I’m looking for my wallet,” he explained, pulling open another drawer.

Amari leaned back against the headboard, feeling a contentedness she hadn’t experienced in a while. She hadn’t expected to wake up like this, not so peaceful, not so sure about what came next. But as Brendan moved around the room, she realized that things didn’t always have to be figured out right away. They could just exist in the moment, and that was enough for now.

When he finally found what he was looking for, he turned back to her, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “You sure you don’t want to get dressed before I take you out for breakfast?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he noticed the way the covers pooled around her.

Amari rolled her eyes playfully. “Only if you’re paying,” she teased, her tone light.

Brendan grinned, his eyes softening. “Of course. Just don’t take too long,” he said, as he began to head for the door. “I’m starving.”

As he left the room, Amari leaned back, still feeling the warmth of his presence lingering in the air. There was something effortlessly comfortable about him, and for the first time in a while, she felt like maybe—just maybe—things were falling into place.

Brendan paused, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked at her. His gaze softened as he settled in closer, but there was a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Mushy?” he repeated, his voice low, teasing. “I’m just trying to show you how much I appreciate you, Mari.”

Amari raised an eyebrow, her smile widening as she pushed him playfully off of her. “Uh-huh. Appreciation, huh?” she said, rolling her eyes but still laughing lightly. “You don’t get to just turn it on and off like that, B. I already told you. We’re not doing this whole push-and-pull thing.”

Brendan chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers. He sat back, taking a moment to adjust himself, his playful expression melting into something more genuine. “Alright, alright,” he said, his tone softer. “I hear you. No more trying to be all sweet and cuddly if it’s gonna make you roll your eyes at me.”

She smiled, her arms crossing over her chest, but there was a certain softness in her gaze that wasn’t lost on him. “You’re not bad when you’re not being all dramatic,” she teased, nudging him with her shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, feigning offense. “I’m not dramatic. I’m just—” He cut himself off, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “—just trying to be here with you. And, yeah, maybe it’s a little different for me. But I can’t help it.”

Amari's expression softened at his words, and for a brief moment, the playful teasing gave way to something deeper. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability that he was letting slip through, even if he wasn’t always great at showing it.

“You don’t have to try so hard, B,” she said quietly, reaching up to touch his face. “You’ve got me already.”

The room fell into a brief silence, the air between them filled with unspoken understanding. There were no walls up now—just the two of them, navigating this complicated thing they were building together. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy, but it felt real. And for now, that was enough.

As Amari kissed him, her hands slid to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, a quiet yet powerful shift in the energy between them. The playful teasing melted into something more tender, more grounded, as their lips met with a deeper connection than before.

Brendan responded instinctively, his arms wrapping around her waist as he leaned into the kiss, his chest pressing against hers. There was no rush, no urgency—just the softness of the moment, both of them savoring the intimacy, feeling the warmth of each other's presence.

When they finally broke the kiss, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the quiet space between them. Amari smiled, her fingers gently tracing his jawline as she met his gaze. "You know, you're not so bad when you're not being all dramatic," she teased softly, her voice laced with affection.

Brendan let out a quiet laugh, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I guess you’ve got me figured out, huh?" he replied, his tone light but his eyes filled with sincerity.

Amari shrugged, still smiling. "Not fully," she said with a playful gleam in her eye, "but I’m working on it." She leaned in for another soft kiss, this time lingering just a little longer, letting the kiss speak for everything they hadn’t said out loud.

It was moments like this that reminded her—there was something real here, something that didn’t need to be defined right away. She wasn’t sure where things were going, but for now, she was okay with letting them unfold naturally.

“Now I can say the Mid Sized Sedan is my boyfriend.” She says holding back a laugh. He gives her a fake hurt look.

Amari laughed, a soft sound that bubbled from her chest. "Well, you’ve got all the features—good looks, reliability, and the ability to keep up with me when I need you to." She leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his lips. "Plus, you’re surprisingly comfortable."

Brendan chuckled, his arms tightening around her in a playful yet affectionate gesture. "You’re lucky I like the nickname," he said, his voice teasing but with a warmth that matched the softness in his eyes. "But if you keep calling me that, I might have to start charging you for the ride."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t fade. "You’re ridiculous," she teased, though there was an undeniable affection in her voice. "But you’re my ridiculous boyfriend, so I guess I’ll let it slide."

Brendan kissed her forehead, his hand gently brushing through her hair as he relaxed back into the bed. "I guess that makes two of us, then," he said quietly, his tone softening as he spoke the words he hadn’t quite expected to say, but found himself feeling anyway.

Amari looked at him, her heart fluttering at the thought of how naturally everything was falling into place. It didn’t matter what nickname he carried or what complications came along with their relationship. In this moment, it was just the two of them, and that was enough.

"Yeah," she murmured, leaning in closer. "It does."

Brendan chuckled softly, pulling her a little closer before letting her go with a playful smile. "Alright, alright. Go get your shower, Mari. I know I’m irresistible, but even I can't compete with a hot shower and some fresh clothes."

Amari rolled her eyes but smiled as she slid out of bed, the warmth of their moment still lingering in the air. "You’re lucky you’ve got that charm," she said, tossing him a teasing glance over her shoulder as she walked toward the bathroom. "Or you’d be getting the cold shoulder right about now."

Brendan laughed, his eyes following her as she disappeared into the bathroom. He stretched back onto the bed, his mind still lingering on their earlier conversation and the shift in their relationship. It felt different now—more real, more grounded. They weren’t just having fun or living in the moment anymore; they were finding something deeper between them.

He shook his head with a smile. "Cold shoulder? Yeah, right."

As the sound of the shower started, Brendan lay back, his thoughts drifting to the future and what it might hold for him and Amari. Whatever happened, he was starting to feel like he was ready for whatever was next.

A few days later she’s missing him.

Amari sat on her couch, her legs tucked beneath her, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone. The TV was on in the background, playing a show she wasn’t really watching. Brendan was out of town for a shoot, and for the first time in weeks, she had a quiet evening to herself.

But her mind wasn’t quiet.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Specifically, about how they hadn’t crossed that line yet. She was surprised. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to—hell, she wanted to. Brendan wasn’t shy about his feelings either. The way he looked at her, touched her, kissed her—it was clear he was just as ready. Yet, somehow, they hadn’t gone there.

Her phone buzzed, breaking her thoughts. It was a text from him.

Brendan: Hey, you miss me yet?

She smiled, biting her bottom lip as she typed back.

Amari: Maybe. Why? You miss me?

The dots appeared, then stopped, then started again. Typical Brendan, always taking his time with the perfect response.

Brendan: Of course I miss you. Who else is going to keep me humble?

She laughed, shaking her head. He always knew how to lighten the mood, even from miles away. Still, her thoughts lingered on their relationship. They’d been dancing around the idea of taking things further, but something—maybe timing, maybe hesitation—always seemed to hold them back.

Why hadn’t they done it yet? Was he waiting for the right moment? Or was he afraid of messing up what they already had?

She sighed, setting her phone on the coffee table. The truth was, she liked what they had now, but she also couldn’t deny that the thought of being with him in every way sent a thrill down her spine. Maybe it was just a matter of time.

Her phone buzzed again.

Brendan: Be honest. You’re thinking about me right now, aren’t you?

Amari smirked, shaking her head as she typed her reply.

Amari: What makes you so sure?

His response came almost immediately.

Brendan: Because I’m thinking about you.

Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she wondered if tonight would be the night they finally had that conversation. Even if he was out of town, it felt like they were closer than ever.

Amari stared at her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen as a smile played on her lips. Her heart was racing, the thought of finally addressing the unspoken topic between them both exciting and terrifying. She wanted to ask the question, but what if it made things weird?

Still, the way Brendan had been so open lately, his texts filled with warmth and teasing affection, gave her the courage she needed.

Amari: Can I ask you something?

She hit send before she could change her mind. The three dots appeared almost immediately.

Brendan: You can ask me anything, Mari. What’s on your mind?

She bit her bottom lip, staring at his words. Taking a deep breath, she typed out her response.

Amari: Why haven’t we, you know… done it yet?

She hit send, then immediately tossed her phone onto the couch as if it might explode. The seconds that passed felt like an eternity, and she almost regretted asking. But then her phone buzzed.

Brendan: You mean why haven’t we had sex yet?

Amari felt her cheeks heat up. Of course, he’d just say it outright.

Amari: Yeah. I guess I was just wondering if there’s a reason. Or if you’re waiting for something.

This time, the dots took longer to appear, and she held her breath, anxiously waiting for his reply.

Brendan: Honestly? I’ve thought about it. A lot. But I didn’t want to rush you. I know what we have is special, and I didn’t want to mess it up by moving too fast.

Her chest tightened at his words. Brendan wasn’t just some guy who was looking for the next thrill—he really cared about her.

Amari: I appreciate that. But you know, I’m not holding back because I don’t want to. I think I’ve just been waiting for the right moment too.

There was a pause before his next message came through.

Brendan: Maybe when I’m back, we stop waiting and just see where the moment takes us.

She smiled, her heart fluttering as she typed her response.

Amari: I’d like that.

For the first time that night, Amari felt at ease. Whatever happened next, she knew they’d handle it together.

Amari leaned back on the couch, her phone still in her hand as another thought hit her. Before anything else, she’d been Brendan’s hairstylist. It was how this whole thing between them had started—the playful banter, the lingering glances, and eventually, the deeper connection.

She smirked as she typed out a text.

Amari: You could use a retwist, by the way. Just saying.

It didn’t take long for his reply.

Brendan: Wow. I’m out of town for two days, and you’re already throwing shade?

She laughed out loud, shaking her head.

Amari: I’m just saying, B. Don’t forget who keeps you looking this good.

The dots appeared and disappeared before his message came through.

Brendan: How could I forget? You’re the one who has me sitting between your legs every other week.

Her cheeks flushed at the double meaning in his words.

Amari: Careful, or I’ll start charging extra.

Brendan: You already charge me in other ways, remember?

She rolled her eyes, her smile growing. He always knew how to keep the conversation light and playful, even when there was an undertone of seriousness.

Amari: Fine, but when you get back, I’m fixing that mess on your head.

Brendan: Deal. Only if it means I get to see you sooner.

Her heart skipped a beat at his response. She placed her phone on the coffee table, her mind drifting again. No matter how their relationship unfolded, she knew one thing for sure—Brendan always had a way of making her feel seen and wanted, whether it was in his texts or the way he looked at her during those moments in the shop.

It made her excited for whatever was coming next.

When Brendan finally got back to the city, Amari wasted no time texting him to come over. True to her word, she had her tools ready and a fresh jar of gel waiting.

He walked into her townhouse, his hazel eyes lighting up the moment he saw her. "You ready to fix this mess?" he asked, gesturing to his hair with a grin.

She smirked, rolling her eyes. "You’re lucky I care, B. Sit down."

Brendan dropped onto the floor between her legs like it was second nature, leaning back slightly as she started sectioning his hair. Her hands worked expertly, parting and twisting with precision. The familiar intimacy of the moment settled between them as they talked about his trip, her latest clients, and everything in between.

“Feels good to be home,” Brendan murmured, his voice soft and content.

She smiled, finishing one twist and moving to the next. “Feels good to have you back. You were starting to look wild out there.”

He chuckled, tilting his head to give her better access. “That wild look got me some compliments, though.”

Amari laughed, playfully tugging at one of the twists she’d just finished. “Yeah, well, those people clearly don’t know quality when they see it. Now hold still.”

The minutes passed in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional hum of approval from Brendan as she worked. When she was done, she leaned back, admiring her handiwork.

“There. You’re human again,” she teased, brushing stray hair off his shoulders.

Brendan turned slightly, his hazel eyes meeting hers. “You always know how to take care of me, Mari.”

Before she could respond, his hands found her thighs, gently rubbing them as he stayed seated on the floor. His touch was slow and deliberate, his thumbs pressing into her skin in a way that made her breath hitch.

“B…” she started, but her voice trailed off as his hands slid a little higher, his gaze never leaving hers.

“You good?” he asked softly, his tone laced with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

She swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good,” he said, leaning forward slightly. His hands stayed on her thighs, his touch both grounding and electrifying as he closed the small distance between them.

Neither of them moved to get up. The moment stretched on, heavy with unspoken words and unrestrained tension, until Amari finally gave in, leaning down to kiss him. Whatever came next, they both knew they were exactly where they wanted to be.

Amari tried to stay composed, but Brendan’s hands were doing things to her she couldn’t ignore. His thumbs rubbed slow, teasing circles into her thighs, and every time his hazel eyes flicked up to meet hers, it sent a jolt of heat through her.

She shifted in her seat, trying to focus on anything else, but the way he stayed on the floor, his strong frame relaxed between her legs, made it impossible to think straight.

"B…" she whispered, her voice shaky.

His gaze didn’t waver. “What’s wrong, Mari?”

She inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself, but it was no use. The warmth of his hands, the way his thumbs crept a little higher each time—it was all too much. "I can’t…"

"You can’t what?" he asked, his tone soft, almost teasing.

She bit her lip, her restraint dissolving with every passing second. “I can’t take it anymore,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Brendan’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “Then don’t,” he said simply, his voice low and inviting.

That was all it took. Amari leaned forward, her hands finding his face as she kissed him with a desperation she couldn’t hold back anymore. He responded instantly, his hands gripping her thighs tighter as he pulled her closer.

She slid off the chair and onto the floor, straddling him as the kiss deepened. Brendan’s hands moved to her waist, anchoring her to him as her fingers tangled in his freshly retwisted hair.

“I knew this would happen,” he murmured against her lips, his voice husky.

“Shut up,” she replied breathlessly, pulling him closer as the last of her self-control slipped away.

The living room disappeared around them as they gave in to the moment, the tension that had been simmering for weeks finally boiling over. Neither of them cared about what came next—right now, all that mattered was each other.

Brendan’s hands slid up her sides, taking her shirt with them. When he lifted it over her head and tossed it aside, he froze for a moment, his hazel eyes taking in the sight of her. She was wearing a black lace bra—the one he’d mentioned was his favorite before.

He ran his fingers along the delicate material, a small, appreciative smile forming on his lips. “You knew I’d like this, didn’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Amari’s cheeks flushed, but she smirked back at him. “Maybe. Or maybe it was just laundry day.”

He laughed softly, his hands traveling to her back, tracing lazy circles along her skin. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

His lips found her collarbone, pressing soft kisses along the curve of her neck and shoulder as his hands explored the familiar contours of her body. Every touch, every kiss, sent shivers down her spine.

“You’re so damn beautiful, Mari,” he whispered against her skin.

She tipped her head back, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he moved lower, his lips brushing along the edge of the lace. The way he touched her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, made her heart race.

“Brendan…” she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

He looked up at her then, his eyes smoldering with a mix of affection and desire. “Tell me what you want,” he said softly, his hands resting on her hips, grounding her.

“You,” she whispered without hesitation, her hands tangling in his hair. “Always you.”

His smile widened as he pulled her closer, sealing her words with a kiss that left no room for doubt.

Brendan smirked, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter as he kissed the sensitive spot on her neck. “You sure about that?” he teased, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers through her.

Amari tilted her head back further, her body arching into him. “Yes,” she said, her voice breathy but firm. “Fuck this foreplay, B. I need you. Now.”

His smirk turned into a grin as he looked up at her, his hazel eyes dark with desire. “Well, if that’s what you want…” he murmured.

Without another word, he stood up, taking her with him as if she weighed nothing. Amari wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers clutching his shoulders as he carried her effortlessly toward the bedroom.

“Brendan—” she started, but he cut her off with a kiss so deep it stole her breath.

When he reached the bed, he gently laid her down, his body following hers as he hovered over her. “No turning back now,” he said, his voice low and serious, though the corner of his mouth quirked up in a teasing smile.

She reached up, pulling him down to her. “I wasn’t planning to.”

Their bodies moved together, the tension that had been building between them for so long finally snapping as they gave in to everything they’d been holding back. Time seemed to stop as the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them in the heat of the moment. Moans and skin slapping was all that filled the room.

Amari blinked awake, her body still deliciously sore from the night before. The sunlight streaming through the blinds made her squint as she adjusted to being awake. She shifted slightly, realizing she was sprawled out in her bed, her covers barely clinging to her.

Turning her head, she saw Brendan sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed in his boxers and one of his favorite hoodies. His broad back was to her as he tapped away on his phone.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep.

He glanced back over his shoulder, his hazel eyes softening when they met hers. “Morning, beautiful,” he replied with a small smile.

She stretched lazily, her body still buzzing with the remnants of last night. “What are you doing?”

“Texting my manager,” he said, holding up his phone briefly before turning his attention back to the screen. “She’s asking about studio time later today.”

Amari sighed, propping herself up on one elbow. “You’re already working?”

He chuckled and set his phone down for a moment, turning to face her. “Gotta stay on my grind, Mari. You know how it is.”

She reached out, tugging playfully at the hem of his hoodie. “Yeah, but can’t your grind wait for breakfast in bed? Or… you know, round two?”

Brendan’s grin widened, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “As tempting as that is, I gotta handle this first. But don’t worry,” he added, his voice lowering as he kissed her again, this time on the lips. “I’ll make time for you.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she smiled against his mouth. “You better.”

He pulled back, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Always.”

As Brendan stood up, preparing to grab his jeans from the nearby chair, Amari reached out, her fingers slipping into the waistband of his boxers. She tugged gently, a sly smile spreading across her face as she leaned back against the pillows.

“Leaving already?” she teased, her voice soft but playful.

He paused, glancing down at her with an amused smirk. “I told you, Mari, I gotta handle this,” he said, though he didn’t make a move to step away from her touch.

She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “You’re really going to leave me here like this? After last night?” Her fingers trailed along the edge of the waistband, sending a shiver up his spine.

Brendan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

She grinned, tugging at the waistband a little more insistently. “Maybe. But you like it.”

He leaned over her, bracing his hands on either side of her body as he met her gaze. “You’re making it real hard to leave right now.”

“That’s the point,” she said, her voice dropping into a whisper as her fingers toyed with the fabric.

For a moment, he hovered there, torn between his responsibilities and the undeniable pull of her presence. Finally, he let out a resigned sigh and kissed her deeply, his hands sliding to her waist.

“Fine,” he murmured against her lips, “but only for a few more minutes.”

Amari laughed softly, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled him closer. “That’s all I need.”

As Brendan finally left with a lingering kiss and a promise to call her later, Amari flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. She let out a long sigh, the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to her sheets.

For a moment, she stayed there, basking in the afterglow of his presence and the memory of the night before. But reality crept back in. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, reminding her of the packed schedule ahead.

With a groan, she dragged herself out of bed, stretching as she made her way to the bathroom. “Alright, Amari,” she muttered to herself, splashing water on her face. “Time to get it together. You’ve got clients waiting.”

After a quick shower, she threw on her go-to stylist outfit—something comfortable yet chic—and tied her braids up into a neat bun. As she gathered her tools and checked her appointment book, her mind kept drifting back to Brendan.

She shook her head, smiling to herself. “Focus, girl,” she whispered. “You’ve got work to do.”

By the time she walked into her salon, the familiar hum of chatter and the smell of hair products snapped her back into her professional zone. Her first client was already waiting, scrolling on her phone.

“Hey, Mari!” the client greeted, looking up. “Ready to work your magic?”

Amari smiled warmly, setting her tools on the counter. “Always,” she replied, pushing thoughts of Brendan to the back of her mind—for now.

During a brief lull between clients, Amari slipped her phone from her pocket. She smiled when she saw it was a text from Brendan.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking about last night… You’re still on my mind.”

Her heart fluttered as she typed a quick reply. “I’m flattered. You’re still on mine too.”

Almost instantly, his response pinged back. “I know you’ve got clients, but when you get a moment, can I see you later?”

Amari bit her lip, considering for a moment. She had a few more appointments, but there was something about him that made her want to say yes without hesitation. She glanced at the clock—she still had some time before her next client arrived.

“I’d like that. Let me wrap up here first, and I’ll text you when I’m free.”

Brendan’s reply came almost immediately. “Looking forward to it. I’ll be waiting.”

Amari smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. As much as she tried to focus on her work, her mind couldn’t help but wander back to Brendan—his smile, the way he made her feel… and what could happen next.

By the time Amari finished her last client of the day, the evening was settling in. She felt a mix of exhaustion and excitement as she quickly tidied up her station and grabbed her bag. A quick glance at her phone revealed a text from Brendan.

“I’m already at the spot, waiting for you. Can’t wait to see you.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She typed back quickly. “Be there in 20.”

After a quick change into a simple yet stylish outfit, Amari made her way to the restaurant. It was a cozy, upscale spot known for its quiet ambiance and excellent food, a place Brendan often chose when he wanted to get away from the chaos of his life.

When she walked through the door, her eyes scanned the room until they landed on him sitting at a corner table, looking effortlessly handsome. His hazel eyes locked with hers, and he stood up with a smile, greeting her as she approached.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, his voice warm and inviting as he kissed her cheek.

“Hey, you,” she replied, feeling a flutter in her stomach. She slipped into the seat across from him.

Brendan’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, and she noticed a quiet admiration in his eyes. “You look stunning, as always.”

“Thanks,” Amari smiled, settling in. “You clean up well yourself.”

He chuckled, glancing at the menu. “I wanted to make tonight special. So, what’s your vibe? Something light, or are you ready for a feast?”

She laughed softly, glancing at the menu as well. “I’m thinking something hearty tonight. I’ve been craving steak all day.”

Brendan grinned, knowing exactly what she was referring to. “I’ll take that as a challenge. You know I’m a steak guy.”

As they talked over dinner, the conversation flowed easily. It was casual yet filled with moments of genuine connection—laughter, teasing, and quiet glances shared between bites of food. Amari found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t expected, enjoying the simple act of being with him without any pressure.

When the meal was over, they lingered over drinks, talking about everything and nothing. Brendan seemed at ease, and Amari felt the same way. The connection between them felt deeper now, like a shared understanding and unspoken promise.

“So, what’s next?” Amari asked, her voice softening.

Brendan looked at her, his eyes reflecting something more than just the fun of the evening. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want this night to end just yet.”

She smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. “Neither do I.”

With that, the night began to feel like it was just the beginning of something new, something real.

“You still owe me for round two. But I’ll settle for a make out.” she says.

Brendan grinned, clearly amused by her words. "Oh, so now you're keeping score, huh?" he teased, his fingers gently brushing her arm as he pulled her closer. "Guess I’ll just have to make it up to you tonight."

Amari raised an eyebrow, her playful smirk never faltering. "You better, B. I’m not going to let you off easy after this morning’s… 'round one'."

He chuckled, his hand cupping her cheek as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. "I’m up for the challenge," he murmured, his voice low and confident.

Amari couldn't help but smile into the kiss, the tension of the morning finally melting away. It was as if all the teasing, all the playful banter, had led them here—right where they both wanted to be.

"Just remember," she said, pulling back just slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "You promised a long night of making up for it. No backing out now."

Brendan leaned in again, his lips finding hers with a renewed intensity. "No backing out," he murmured against her lips. "I plan to keep every promise I make to you, Mari."

And with that, the night stretched out before them, filled with promises, laughter, and the kind of chemistry they both had been craving.

A few days later she’s standing at his door. She hears Jacquees’ ‘No Questions.’ playing through the door.

The soft, rhythmic beats of Jacquees' "No Questions" filled the room as Amari and Brendan found themselves nestled together on the couch, the dim lighting of the penthouse casting a warm glow over the space. They were both still feeling the lingering energy of the day—the shoot, the playful chemistry between them, and now, this quiet moment together.

Brendan pulled her closer, his fingers tracing the line of her arm as she leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder. She could feel the tension of the day melting away, replaced by the soft hum of intimacy.

"You were amazing today," Brendan whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "The way you just owned that shoot... I couldn’t stop watching you."

Amari smiled, a soft blush creeping across her cheeks. She wasn’t used to this side of Brendan—the way he could be both the intense artist and the caring, attentive man in front of her. But tonight, it was just them, no pressure, no cameras, just the music, and the feeling of being close.

"I love when you say stuff like that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she shifted to face him. "Makes me feel like I’m really a part of this, you know?"

He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing along her jawline. "You’re more than a part of this, Mari. You’re everything."

The song played on, its sensual beat matching the quiet, passionate exchange between them. There was no need for words, just the shared understanding that this moment was theirs. As the music swirled around them, Brendan leaned in and kissed her softly, their lips moving in sync with the rhythm of the song. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the connection they shared.

"No questions," he murmured against her lips, the lyrics of the song perfectly echoing their unspoken bond. "Just you and me."

As Amari settled into his lap, her body relaxed, and she closed her eyes, savoring the peace and comfort of the moment. The sound of Jacquees’ smooth voice blended with the soft rhythm of the music, creating the perfect backdrop for their quiet time together. She could feel Brendan’s warmth radiating through her, the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath her as he stroked her hair with a calm tenderness.

For once, there were no distractions, no demands pulling them in different directions. Just the soft glow of the penthouse lights, the hum of the music, and the feeling of being safe and cherished in his presence.

Brendan watched her, his eyes soft as he traced small circles on her arm, lost in the stillness of the moment. He could tell she was content, and that peace between them was something he never wanted to lose.

"You’re perfect like this," he said quietly, almost to himself, as he continued to play with her hair. "So calm, so beautiful... I just want you to always feel this safe."

Amari smiled faintly, her lips curving as she gazed up at him. “I do. I feel like I can be myself with you. No pressure, just... us.”

Brendan’s heart softened at her words, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "That’s all I want, Mari. Just you."

The song played on, and they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s company, neither needing to say anything more. In that moment, they were everything to each other, and it felt like the world could wait.

Amari rubbed her eyes, groggily sitting up in bed as the sunlight filtered through her curtains. She stretched, then froze when she noticed the delivery outside her door. Curious, she quickly got up and walked over, finding a bouquet of fresh flowers—roses, lilies, and some baby’s breath—arranged beautifully, their vibrant colors almost glowing against the sleek Louis Vuitton box placed next to them.

Her heart skipped a beat as she carefully bent down to pick up the box. It was heavy and well-packaged, sealed with the signature LV logo. She bit her lip, a smile spreading across her face as she wondered what Brendan could have sent her.

She brought the items inside and sat on the couch, the flowers resting on the coffee table beside her. Slowly, she opened the box, revealing a stunning leather bag—an elegant and timeless piece that instantly caught her eye. It was a classic Louis Vuitton Speedy, the rich monogram canvas shining with perfection. Amari’s breath caught in her throat as she ran her fingers over the smooth, luxurious leather handles.

A note was tucked inside the bag, and she unfolded it carefully:

"For my beautiful Mari. I know we’re figuring things out, but I couldn’t help but show you how much you mean to me. I’m thinking of you always. – B"

Her heart warmed as she read the note, the gesture leaving her feeling both cherished and slightly overwhelmed. She had always appreciated his thoughtful side, but this... this was next level. She could feel how much he cared for her in every stitch of that bag, every petal of the flowers.

She smiled to herself, her fingers still tracing the bag’s edge. Her thoughts drifted back to last night, the softness of his words, the comfort of his presence, and how easily everything felt with him.

What are we doing, B? she thought, unsure but excited to see where this connection was leading them. Still, she couldn’t deny how much she loved the attention, the gifts, the thoughtfulness. It felt real, and she felt wanted in a way she hadn’t expected.

As she texted Brendan a quick thank you, she knew she’d have to figure out what all this meant for them, but for now, she could just enjoy the moment and the man who was clearly more than just a passing chapter.

Amari stood behind her chair in the shop, glancing at the clock as she finished organizing her tools and equipment. It was a quiet morning, the usual hum of the shop barely audible as she prepped for her next client. Brendan had left town for a few days, leaving her to handle her work on her own. She wasn’t exactly complaining—she was used to working solo, but there was a lingering thought in her mind.

After the last few days, the gifts, the intimacy, the way things felt when they were together, it was hard not to wonder what the future held for them. Her mind kept drifting to that note he had written, how he’d thought of her even when they weren’t physically together. It made her feel special, but also uncertain about the space between them. She wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable. With clients constantly in and out, and the music from the speakers keeping her grounded, it was easy to keep busy and push thoughts aside.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Brendan.

“Just wanted to check in on you. How’s the day going? Miss you.”

She smiled softly at the message, her fingers lingering over the keys as she thought about her reply. She missed him too—more than she had expected. She typed back quickly.

“It’s good. Quiet, but that’s a blessing some days. Miss you too. Can’t wait for you to get back.”

She hit send, leaning back in her chair as she waited for her client to arrive. As she stared at the phone, another thought crossed her mind. What was she really looking for in this? She’d always kept things casual, enjoying the attention and the fun. But with Brendan, it was different.

She let out a soft sigh, mentally shaking off the thoughts. For now, she had to focus on the work in front of her. There would be time to figure things out when the time came.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @notpradagurl7 @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @pocketsizedpanther @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre smut #mid sized sedan #mid sized sedan x oc #mid sized sedan x black reader #mid sized sedan x black!oc #mid sized sedan smut #yassbishimvintage #brendan #terry richmond #Spotify

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cherie-doll · 1 day ago

Note

Hi I just read your "They waited for you" headcannons and my heart is broken 😭. It was beautifully written but I'm a sucker for a happy ending, so how do you think they'd react if they got home to find you still alive having either been missing or faking your own death?

aw thanks! yeah a couple others requested a happy ending to this hc as well so here it is! (sorry i was supposed to post this hours ago but i fell asleep...)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They Waited For You (Happy/Good Alternate Ending)

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He had felt immense guilt for losing you, if only he could have kept you tucked away better, he knew your corpse was likely out there somewhere, so against the advice and warnings of others he set out to at least find your body and give you a proper burial

He covered the entire area you had last been seen in and no sign of you, he found tracks leading away and traced them for a couple of days until by what seemed like a miracle he found you, still alive, you had managed to make a little nook in a pocket of forest

Blinking, he stood aghast a moment before running towards you, there were deep scars across your face, bruises and wounds but you had managed to hold up, he was surprised to see how you had survived despite your injuries

After taking a step back to look at you, he assessed your injuries, you quivered as his hands cupped your face, it was the first time you had felt his sincere touch in what felt like an eternity, he meekly traces the scars running from your temple down to your cheek, "I knew you'd make it" was all he whispered before taking you home

Ghost

No one had seen him since the news of you being KIA had been delivered, he had felt the emptiness growing within him, consuming his being until he was sure to be left only a walking skeleton of mindlessness

Oh, his poor heart was numb, nothing could make a ripple of effect, it was as if the centerpiece of his being had been removed and he no longer was able to function, he didn't want to go out there and be met by more disappointment, he'd get over it, eventually, or try to forget you, but it'd never be the same

Imagine the shock that nearly overwhelmed his heart who hadn't felt a tinge of emotion when you knocked on the front door, the surge of emotions was like a tidal wave, he didn't hesitate to hold you again

He didn't notice the blood, the bandages or the way your features furrowed, wincing in pain, not at first, not until he got a good look at you and saw the damage you went through, a flicker of your eyes and he knew it'd be a long story, one you weren't ready to tell yet, and he would respect that, for now he was at peace again, let him bask in it

Soap

A dream forever encased in his mind; was his situation so dire that he felt the need to resort to replaying your happiest moments together? The gleam in your eyes that he took for granted, he wanted that spark back, you were a star, his star, his sun in the sky to warm his heart with the most exhilarating of feelings

He thought he had finally lost it when he dreamt you showing up to his doorstep, with arms reaching for him, pulling him into you, it'd always end with him almost reaching you, his fingertips grazing your skin until he would wake up

It was an unexpected feeling when one day his fingers clasped yours, he was able to fully wrap his arms around you and inhale your familiar scent, he thought it was a little cruel that this dream was far too realistic, when he would wake up he'd feel cold again

But it wasn't, it wasn't a dream, his reality was no longer bleak or grim, the cause of his happiness had resurged and it was here to stay for a long time, you were no longer a burning memory

Gaz

People noticed he wasn't the same anymore, the shine in his eyes was gone and the hands that usually transmitted tenderness and security were now hesitant and wavering, he wasn't steady in his emotions nor thoughts, as much as he tried to reassure others that he was fine it was clear the toll it had taken on him

When he felt the pain of your loss spreading over his body, he prepared for it to overtake him, until you appeared like a healer to ease his pain and restore him to what he was before, it was such a surprise to him

His eyes stared into yours for what seemed like an eternity, taking in that you had really come back, once he really processed that you were before him he pulled you into him, remembering how much he had missed holding you safe in his arms and placing kisses on your temple and lips

He was quick to take in your pains and try his best to erase them, he wanted them treated with the best care possible, you had survived even when they had told him you surely died, he wasn't about to let you do anything but be next to him for a long time

Roach

The pain hadn't left him for a moment, he didn't have the chance of peace for fear of forgetting you, he missed resting in your arms, the steady rhythm of your breathing, he missed you beyond more than he could bear

Seeing you barrage into his life again, standing motionless in the doorway, he didn't understand why you needed to fake your death or why you went so long without contacting him, all he needed in that moment was to get to you

He clung onto you, tightly securing his arms around you and letting the hot tears spill down his cheeks, he had felt so lonely, so lost without you he didn't say anything else for now, the both of you silently swayed together, finally, his voice barely above a whisper, with so much softness of heart in his words, he told you to promise him to never leave his side ever again

Alejandro

An explosion of emotions overtook him, he was confused most of all, and he hated confusion, not knowing how one moment you're declared dead then he's mourning for you and the next you're in the flesh before him

He wanted to ask a million question but saved them the moment his eyes landed on the blood seeping through the patched bandages, the way you gingerly held your bandaged arm close to you, the dimmed look in your eyes, you had been broken but managed to come back

He gathered you in his arms, the answers would come later, all in his mind right now was to make you feel at home and nurse you back to health, when you were soundly sleeping, he laid next to you and observed you rest, he felt immediate guilt for wanting to question your disappearance right away

It must've been so hard for you to find your way back, but you had done it all by yourself, you managed to survive and still you thought of crawling back to him

Rudy

He wasn't at all fine with the so called "closure" they had tried to give him when you were KIA, was that it? Would he have to spend the rest of his days trying to be content with only sighing and looking back at the past occasionally?

A pause extended and he found himself unable to do anything with the time he had previously spent with you, there was time on his hands but no one to spend it on, he simply couldn't shake away his thoughts of longing

Until news of your unexpected return came to him, he was the one to rush to you, for your injuries were far too great to be able to make it anywhere outside the hospital, you weakly smiled up at him from the hospital bed, pain ringing in your ears but that passed to being background noise the moment you saw him

The immense relief he felt in his heart that eased the shadow looming over him, he observed your face for any other signs of pain, tell him anything you need he assured, but you only wanted him next to you, you'll heal well if you're with him

Phillip Graves

He failed to ever compose himself, he just couldn't bring himself to get over you, not his job, nor those around him to attempted to provide some comfort, he felt rage at those who tried to distract him from you, they didn't understand he didn't want to forget you, not caring about the pain

The last messages you had sent him were still there on his phone, on some days he'd stare at the screen, wanting to believe the last sentence you had typed out, that it wouldn't be long before you were there by his side again

On other days he didn't want to hear any notification from his phone knowing you wouldn't be able to call or message him ever again, his phone would be on silent for days, until one day he turned it on to see missed calls from you

He thought he had been dreaming, rubbing sleep from his eyes he focused on the incoming call again, your name was flashing on the screen, it was as if his heart jumpstarted again hearing your voice come in, he nearly cried but was able to know you were waiting for him, wanting to come to him

And it was like he learned to smile again, a gentle smiling on his lips, tears glossing over his pretty blue eyes as he was able to hold you securely in his arms

Makarov

Through too many bitter days he had to keep living, and that was such a cruel punishment he couldn't withstand, he couldn't live day by day in ignorance until his death, he hated how early you had to part ways, it was much worse than a breakup, for you were still very much in need of one another

He had no one else to tell his sorrows to, not that he was willing to open up, he only had regrets, wishing he was able to rewind time and prevent you from going on that mission, he'd do anything to get you back

Fortunately, you showed up at his door before he was able to start a war, he saw your wounds and it was another bullet to his heart, something as dear to him as you should remain unscathed, but with your head on his chest you calmed him, telling him you were here after all

And for now he'd have to focus on keeping you safe, protecting these never-changing memories for as long as he could

Keegan

He held remnants of that pitiful hope that you were somehow still alive, although each day the chances dwindled, each time he went out he had to come to face the reality that you weren't there to do the things you used to always do together

He did have to wait a long time before he was able to see you again, by then he had almost given up the hope of you being gone forever, but there were just things he knew were off about your "death"

Still, he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming when he saw you, you were across the street and the moment your eyes met he instantly knew it was you, you smiled gently at him it seemed like a dream underneath the sky

And he did do exactly as he hoped, took care of you even if most of your injuries had been treated, there was still a scar mentally and he did not hold back from caring for you

König

You had skipped the hospital, instead making your way straight to him, you could hold out a little longer but what if he couldn't? He wouldn't be able to wait long if he didn't see you, as soon as your saw him you collapsed into his arms, as if all this time you weren't safe until you felt him

His wishes were granted and he was to reflect on the blessing he had received, his thumb caressed your cheek but it was him who nearly spilled the tears brimming in his eyes, he didn't want to let go, he just wanted to hold you and look at you for as long as he could, he missed the sight of you

He was afraid to let go and that you would fade away again, as if a dream, you had to reassure him many times it wasn't a figment of his imagination but that you were here, his eyes noticed the wounds when you peeled off your clothing and he had to hold back from gasping at the sight of your bruises, most of them just needed time to heal

Horangi

It was such a beautiful sigh to see you again, even if you were hurt he looked beyond that and he no longer had to think about how grim the future would be without you

He had lost hope and regained it again, how was he to ever make up for this? You two gazed at one another, simply content with being in one another's company again, he didn't want you to do anything strenuous, just being by your side while you recuperated

He would no longer have to resort to past thoughts of you, now he could focus on keeping you by his side and preventing from danger taking you away from him

It had felt like such a long time since he was able to say your name, and now he could call out to you and you'd answer, knowing you didn't stop existing for a moment in his universe

Nikto

The reunion was quiet, you were both tired, you were on the brink of death, thinking you weren't going to make it, but you were a stubborn one, you had been determined to make it back to him, you loved the man

The darkness and static started to fade away and tune out in his mind, he was able to take in his surroundings once again just rest with you, his mind had gone through too much trying to cope with the grief

He didn't have to ask, he just knew you had resolve, too many times he went through the same situation himself only to still come out alive even if it was with a few new scars, but that was before he had met you, you had done it all on the act of wanting to see him again, to not leave him alone in this world

He would rather focus on healing your physical wounds than acting hurt from his mental wounds, it had been a long time since either of you had slept well, now the rest would be plentiful

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x-junwrites-x · 2 days ago

Text

"You're awake."

(Nanami Kento x Reader)

Summary: Nanami Kento, a man thought dead by many of his associates, finally wakes up in the hospital after receiving near fatal wounds. Shibuya would be remembered as a hard fought battle full of bloodshed and strife. It wouldn't claim his life, however. A fate you were eternally grateful for.

tw: none

Nanami woke with a start, pain blooming across his chest as the beeping got louder in his head. His vision swam, breathing labored as he lifted a shaky hand to grab at his temple.

"K-Kento?" A voice filtered in through the roaring clamoring around his skull, attention snapping to the source only to find you.

Your brilliant eyes usually filled with humor and warmth were now shiny with unshed tears that clung to your lashes. He opened his mouth to speak, only being interrupted by a dry cough that escaped him as he choked on his spit.

"Oh," you quickly got up from the bedside chair, the seat nearly toppling with your abrupt departure as you reached for a cup of water at his bedside. "Here, easy."

Nanami took a second as he gathered himself before letting you tip the water into his parted lips, feeling the way you caressed the back of his head. Your fingers had slipped between the pillow and his neck, tracing random patterns into the short hair there. You took the cup after he managed a few sips, your eyes softening as his body relaxed once he realized who you were. He tried to speak again, wincing when the pain flooded back into his senses.

"It's ok, you're in the hospital, Ken." You started, hand in hand with his larger one. His eye widened, brow furrowing as he blinked wildly when he realized his left eyesight was impacted from the bandages over it. You smoothed over his arm, mouth in a thin line.

"You could have died, Kento." Your breath shuddered, eyes closing. "Shoko did a lot and the others on the medical team did as well, but they could only save so much." Your eyes filled with tears again, bending down to press your forehead to his enclosed hand.

Nanami blinked, the memories of the prior battle were still a bit fuzzy but he certainly remembered Mahito. Mahito. And the hit he took.

And Yuji.

"L-Love..." He said shakily, voice cracking. Your eyes snapped open, training on him.

"I'm just happy we didn't lose you, Ken." You whispered, pressing kisses onto his knuckles. The ruddy skin had been split, the small cuts having been treated already.

Nanami sighed, head resting back with his eye closed. His hand squeezed yours, bandaged chest expanding with a stunted breath.

You sat up slightly at the sight of the tear streaking down his angular cheek, fingers swiping it away soothingly.

"Oh, baby." You breathed, getting up to hold his head gently to your chest as you tried your best to resist wrapping around him. He breathed in your comforting familiar scent, uninjured cheek pressing further into the sound of your fluttering heart. His eye opened suddenly, head tilting.

"Y-Yuji?" He rasped out, IV-ladened hand landing on your elbow weakly.

You separated from him, reaching for his hand again.

"He's fine, he made it out okay. He's here actually. He was so happy to hear you were alive." you said tenderly. He closed his eye, seemingly placated.

You smoothed over his chest lightly, fingers grazing the texture of the bandages wrapped around his middle.

"It's going to be okay, Ken." You said softly. There was only the consistent beeping of the heart monitor, a noise you never knew you would be so grateful for.

It meant Kento was alive. You hadn't lost him yet.

You closed your eyes. There was going to be a lot of recovery he had to go through. But you knew-vowed-you would be there with him every step of the way.

#kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanfiction #angst #relief #jjk fanfic #jjk nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk nanami lives #nanami lives

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lilacxquartz · 14 hours ago

Text

sickly sweet;

kenjaku x f!reader

plot: just as you got ill, your once distant husband started to be caring again — themes: one shot, domestic dread, character study, problematic mindset/themes, manipulation — w.c: 2k • masterlist

a/n: this is a story about kenjaku but the reader is unaware of such a fact… so the name we refer to him as is via suguru/geto and why it’s tagged as such.

For the longest time, you thought that there was something a little… off-putting about your husband.

It wasn’t always this way, but ever since he came back home following an accident, he changed for the worse. Before then, he was vibrant and abuzz with energy and then… something simply just changed. You caught wind of something happening within the cult, but you couldn’t investigate too much—what with you being pregnant with your first child. When he came back seemingly and alive unscathed—save for the stitches that ran across his forehead—you didn’t care to ask too many questions for as long as he was safe and sound.

(A short-lived feeling though; for what lingered just beneath the surface, left dread in its wake.)

The decline of what once made Suguru himself was a slow one, like a thick seeping venom that took its good, sweet time to enter your system. Before you tell something was amiss, he was already deep within your bloodstream—you were hooked—poisoned, yet unaware of just how devastating the damage truly was.

If you had to go back to when you first noticed that something was off, then perhaps when he tried to reintegrate back into your life. It was an ordinary event. He was simply just getting back home late one night and greeted you in the hallway as he stepped inside. At a glance, this would have been normal, but something didn’t feel quite right.

You remembered that sinking feeling of realisation perfectly well.

That moment when you were looking back into the eyes of a stranger, wearing the skin of the man you once knew—of the man that you once loved.

He’d announce his arrival too, singing out your name in a melody that felt forced, “I’m home,” he’d say, his smooth voice feeling somehow rehearsed.

Suguru’s characteristic warmth started to fade the more that you noticed such quirks, the delicately crafted facade beginning to crack. The kindness was retained, but there was a certain underlying edge to it as if he was playing a fabricated role rather than being the man you wanted him to be.

Still, you chose to ignore it. At least at first. You told yourself that if there was an accident, then maybe it was just his personality that was off and if given enough time, it would all smooth over.

(Although, it never did.)

As the months passed you both by, and the man claiming to be Suguru grew colder and more distant, too. Sure, he lived with you and practiced small talk with you, but it all felt fake, somehow. It was as if you were a temporary obstacle in the grand scheme of things and he was simply humouring you whenever he cared to, often disappearing into the night without warning.

Initially, you suspected adultery. It wouldn’t have been too far of a reach, knowing that some people, no matter how well you think you’d know them, would still succumb to temptation… but that didn’t seem to be the case. Whenever he returned, he would be the same just as he was before. Cold and distant. Should you have tried to initiate something intimate too, then he wouldn’t deny you such pleasures, but it always left you feeling unclean, somehow used instead. The moves he pulled were certainly familiar and something that Suguru would do, but it was devoid of the same tenderness that Suguru had.

So for the most part, you stopped initiating and also, you didn’t pay too much attention to him again. For the time being, you cared more to focus on your pregnancy and then hopefully leave somewhere far away from this whole mess.

(But then you got sick.)

It was deep into your pregnancy when you fell ill, bordering just below the final term. A low-grade fever that crept into your system, throwing you off balance. While you initially thought it to be fine, it was hard to ignore by the end of the week. You didn’t think that whoever was occupying your husband’s body would notice such a thing, but something awoke in him from the moment he did.

This deeply caring side of him was hard to dismiss, too, given that it felt close to how Suguru used to be with you.

Just like before, it didn’t take too long for you to notice the changes in his demeanour, the differences being almost jarring by that point. You woke up to the rush of cold air spilling into the room, watching on through partially blurred vision as the sheer curtains wafted in the breeze.

Suguru’s voice played in the background as he addressed you, his voice smooth like molten honey, “You’re awake.”

You initially didn’t respond as you were still waking up. Your eyes flicked over to where he sat on the edge of the bed, watching somewhat warily as he smoothed his palms across your blanketed form, his touch almost reverent.

“Some fresh air will do you good,” he softly murmured before stepping away to the dresser, bringing over a cup of tea to your nightstand table, “I brewed you some tea too. Ginger and honey, just how you like it.”

You warily eyed the cup but didn’t refuse it. The pleasant aroma filled your senses and soothed you as the steam rose and after about a minute, you sat up to take a sip, finding that the warmth from the tea actually did help a bit.

Just as you set the cup down though, Suguru moved closer, extending his hand to press against your forehead, his touch feeling cold against your heated flesh.

“You’re so warm…” he whispered, his thumb brushing along your temple and down your cheekbones. “I should have been more… attentive. Forgive me for being so busy.”

You blinked up at him as the tea settled in your body. Something about this whole interaction filled you with unease as if the applied sweetness wasn’t genuine.

“I’m fine,” you croaked, “really,” you emphasised after a hot second.

Suguru however just hummed, his voice taking on a condescending tone, “Oh, but you’re not, are you?” he asked, curling his lips into a calm, measured smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, his gaze appearing devoid of any warmth, “worry not though, my love, I’ll take care of everything.”

Relief wasn’t quite what you felt however as he hovered around you for the remainder of your sickness, locking himself into your shadow day and night, seemingly abandoning his work to tend to you. He urged you to eat, and hydrate and even helped you bathe, prattling on about the importance of vapours when one felt congested.

“You’re not usually this caring,” you let slip as you settled into bed, regretting your word choice right away. The atmosphere of the room changed within a beat at such an admission and though you tried to backtrack, the dread had already settled.

Suguru’s smile faltered, seeming almost offended(?)

“I may have been busy, yes…” he trailed off, his eyes drifting away from you before giving you back his attention tenfold, “but you’re still… my wife, correct? I have to apply my priorities carefully. You’re… important to me.”

The way that he referred to you as his wife didn’t feel as comforting as his intention might have been; the term felt almost possessive as if laced with warning. The way he said it and how he said it, was a little bit too deliberate—as if he was trying to convince himself of a role he had to maintain.

Still, the hours dragged on throughout the rest of the evening without an issue, or so he thought. He encouraged you to sip on hot broth whenever you were lucid enough and sat at your side vigilantly, watching you with a sharp eye to ensure that nothing would go wrong.

Such intensely applied care, however, soon started to feel suffocating by the end of the day and all you wanted to do was to have a break and sleep the flu away. You didn’t mean to snap the way that you did, fully expecting him to nip or protest at your attitude from the moment you let your composure slip away, but he didn’t.

“—please,” you spat out, unable to hold back any longer as you pushed him away, “just—I… I need to sleep.”

For a moment, a brief hint of anger flashed across his features, but then he simply schooled his expression into that same cold smile from before.

“Of course,” he murmured, brushing your hair away from your eyes, “I should have known. Please, rest for as long as you need to.”

You gulped down all of your unease beyond that point, too exhausted to care, but later in the night—you woke up and something felt wrong. Your eyes fluttered open with a jarring start as your breath caught in the back of your throat. You tried to swallow, but it felt like sharp glass resided in your lungs, the sensation like fire when you tried to breathe in or out. Your eyes struggled to adjust to the dark, but a familiar figure sat unnervingly close to where you lay.

“Suguru…?” you called out.

He must have remained close to you the entire night, even after you had fallen asleep. His deep gaze fixed on you with such a grave intensity that it stole the rest of the air away from the room, leaving you barely able to breathe at that point, feeling suffocated from being so close.

Before you could call out to him again though, Suguru hushed you with the application of his fingers pressed right against your lips. He then leaned closer, allowing the smell of something vaguely metallic to fill your senses, but also medicinal or even herbal.

You listened to his silent request to keep in bed, feeling as his fingertips swept across the side of your neck using soft, featherlight strokes, to trace along your pulse point. His touch lingered for a little too long as he settled around the area, pressing firmly enough that you could feel the blood flowing.

(A warning, perhaps?)

“Go back to sleep,” he softly parted a bit clearer that time, following up with a gentle hum to the tune of a lullaby you didn’t know. Despite how soothing it felt, your innate instincts were screaming at you to distance yourself—to not let this person get too close—that this wasn’t Suguru.

(But your exhaustion simply took you over.)

“That’s right,” he whispered, his breath rolling hot against your forehead as he parted a delicate kiss against your skin, “continue to live in bliss and I'll give you the life you so desperately crave.”

You woke up slightly again as he strode over to the bedroom door, lingering in the frame as he looked back at you with that same unsettling, unreadable stare.

“Just, don’t misunderstand,” he couldn’t resist, his true self seeping through the cracks of the facade he wore so well, “I’ll only keep that up if you don’t snoop around too far,” he then paused, lowering his voice on purpose so that you couldn’t hear him, speaking more to himself than to you, “as long as you learn to keep curious—as long as you don’t figure out who I really am—then I can keep you safe.”

You didn’t reply, trying to pretend that you were already asleep. He knew that you weren’t though, choosing not to bother you.

“Sleep tight, my wife.”

The door then clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in that thick, oppressive silence that you had gotten to know so well. You didn’t dare break through it, though, not even as you felt the squeeze of his phantom fingers remaining wrapped around your neck, constricting around your throat like an invisible collar, binding you to a whole new nightmare; a silent reminder of just how much your life had changed ever since that day.

Of just how much… he had changed.

A part of you knew that it would never get better, but if being sick was what it took to get even a glimpse of your old husband back, then that’s something you wouldn’t hesitate to do.

Because even if he did come to annoy you in the end—it was better than accepting that he might truly be gone.

(So why not live a little in your delusions, just this once? Or twice? Or… however long it took to feel normal again.)

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tommarvoloriddlesdiary · 3 days ago

Note

i don't know what i did with this, and i'm certain it's not what you meant - but here's your fic for 41. "...because the world is saved."

Ash falls like snow, peppering Harry’s hair and coating the scattered stones of Hogwarts, softening their jagged, ruined edges.

Harry stands at its centre, his wand still warm and loosely dangling in his grip. His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath. He feels Voldemort before he sees him, fighting a wince as his scar throbs faintly. Voldemort’s presence had stopped feeling oppressive ages ago… so it must be all that hovering he’s doing over Harry’s shoulder—too close, too familiar, too worried.

“You were reckless,” Voldemort says, right when Harry feels the reprimand building in the air reach its boiling point. Voldemort’s voice is hoarse from battle, his face streaked with dirt and blood. Harry knows it isn’t his; he frowns at Voldemort nonetheless.

When Harry turns, he physically feels the weight of his exhaustion. It pulls down his shoulders, droops his head, and lines his face. Suddenly, he can’t imagine that he looks much better. “Reckless worked, didn’t it?” He asks, just to be annoying.

Voldemort’s mouth spasms in something that might be amusement or disdain—it’s hard to tell. “Barely. If you had died before finishing the incantation, they would all be dead.”

‘Again.’ Hovers in the air, silent and stretching.

“Well,” Harry huffs, “you’d have just had to try and save everyone on your own.” And he can’t help himself when he reaches up to thumb at the drying blood on Voldemort’s face—the near flinch he feels under his attention is so so satisfying. “Isn’t that right?”

He tilts his head away from Harry’s touch and sighs long and low. “You are insufferable, Harry Potter.”

Harry pulls his hand back easily, and a smile tugs up his lips. “Stop suffering me, then?”

The throbbing of his scar had faded with Voldemort’s settling (his needling is a way of reassuring himself, Harry now knows), but it’s back with a vengeance. Harry flinches this time. “Hey now, it’s just a joke—ease up, would you?” He waves Voldemort off, cooling him down or fanning the flames? He never has the slightest clue.

For a moment, Voldemort says nothing; his dark eyes study Harry’s face like he’s almost got him all figured out, like he constantly unearths more questions with every answer, like if he just looks at Harry long enough—he’ll understand him completely. It’s been happening a lot lately. Harry’s not sure how there’s much left of him to discover with the way Voldemort digs and pries.

The pain gets worse and spikes to near unbearable before abruptly fading altogether. Voldemort rolls his eyes when he says, “Your humour remains of poor taste.”

Harry opens his mouth to retort, something sharp and teasing to ease the odd silence and to avoid the masses a bit longer, but the words catch somewhere in his throat. His humour isn’t for anyone but himself to enjoy, yet a slight hint of guilt forms in the pit of his stomach. It makes home next to the strange tension that hasn’t let up since Voldemort caught sight of Harry from across the battlefield. He doubts Voldemort has stopped watching him since.

The look on Voldemort’s face—half-exasperation, half something else—roots him in place. It’s a superficial crack in the otherwise unyielding wall, and Harry wants to see more, wants to pry back.

“You’re staring,” Harry says, his voice quieter now, though the quip still lingers on his lips. It feels too fragile to tease properly.

“You are hard to ignore,” Voldemort replies, his tone just shy of biting. The words lack venom, and something in the way his gaze shifts—falling briefly to Harry’s mouth before darting away—makes Harry’s stomach twist.

The words stamp themselves into the walls of Harry’s mouth before he has the good sense to think about them. “Then don’t.”

Voldemort freezes. He’s eerily still usually, but Hary can feel this pause like he’s stopped the very air around them. It feels alive, heavy, charged with magic—residue from all the fighting? Or is it all from Voldemort himself? And Harry doesn’t know why he said it, doesn’t know why his heart is hammering, but it doesn’t stop him from taking half a step closer.

“I do not think this—” Voldemort starts, his voice low, but Harry cuts him off without a second thought.

“Quit thinking for once,” Harry says a bit too forcefully, his fingers curling instinctively into Voldemort’s robes. His exhaustion somehow vanishes with the movement, like touching Voldemort, even barely grazing, renews him, every nerve alive and burning.

For a second that feels like eternity, neither of them moves. Harry really wants to. But now his brain seems to be operating like usual, possibly even thinking for the both of them, and it’s swearing up and down that he might have pushed too far…

But then Voldemort leans in. It’s not sudden, nor is it hesitant—it’s deliberate, as though he’s weighing every centimetre of the distance between them and making peace with crossing it. Their lips meet, soft and strangely tentative despite Voldemort’s near-constant certainty in his every action—though, has ever truly been certain around Harry? Especially recently?

Voldemort’s hand brushes against his jaw, cool and surprisingly steady. Harry’s breath catches in his chest, his hand tightening slightly in Voldemort’s robes as if to anchor himself.

It lasts only a few moments, but it’s enough to leave Harry reeling when they part, their foreheads nearly touching. Ash still falls around them, the quiet of Hogwarts’ ruins amplifying Harry’s heartbeat. He needs to will it quiet, needs to let go of Voldemort, needs to rethink his life’s choices—

“Reckless,” Voldemort murmurs, his voice tinged with something like disbelief, cutting through Harry’s spiralling thoughts.

Harry lets out a shaky laugh, his smile soft but undeniably smug. “Yeah, well. Reckless works, doesn’t it?”

This time, Voldemort doesn’t argue.

i hope you like it 🥹

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #my fic #ask meme #kiss shorts #pov: harry #what do i name this one?#uhh #fic: reckless #thank you so much for the ask

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flowersforbucky · 2 hours ago

Text

where the lines overlap

logan howlett x reader (dofp!logan x mutant!reader)

word count: 8.7k

summary: no one gets under your skin quite as much as logan howlett - and he knows it, too. sex pollen trope.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, sex pollen so dub con, frenemies to lovers? they aren't enemies but logan and reader don't really get along, reader is a mutant with pyrokinesis, reader is afab, reader is described as being smaller than logan, no use of y/n, wet dream, fuck or die situation, oral, pet names (bub, princess), brief pain kink for logan, unprotected p in v, cream pie

author's note: takes place after the events of days of future past - so everyone's alive, charles is old af, and logan has a pretty streak of silver in his hair. not proofread super well so please ignore any errors.

There's certain things that you like to think about when you're pissed off. It’s a coping mechanism that you learned in therapy at the ripe age of eleven.

Go to your happy place or whatever.

For you, that's the mansion's courtyard after a fresh snowfall, and having the library all to yourself on a rainy day, and the comfort of your bedroom on one of the rare days that you aren’t teaching, or training, or on a mission.

At this point in your life, you’ve forgotten just about everything you were taught in that therapist's office. It's not like you had wanted to be there, but your parents had been worried and scared – and rightfully so. With the unexpected emergence of your pyrokinetic abilities came multiple accidental house fires born out of preteen angst.

So they did the only thing they knew to do at the time – stick you in therapy in hopes you would acquire some anger management techniques.

These days, you have a pretty good handle on your powers. With a lot of time and effort, you learned to control them – and not just control them, but yield them in a beneficial and productive way.

All of that progress comes dangerously close to going out the window anytime you're in close proximity to Logan Howlett.

Maybe all is an exaggeration – but no one else makes your fingertips burn hot with fire that threatens to break through the barrier of your skin quite like him. From his bossiness to his arrogance and attitude, you’ve clashed heads since the first day you met him.

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault.

You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him.

You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass.

A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

He looks at you with an amused expression. “See? Too much force.”

“I didn’t know that having giant forks for hands made you an expert on throwing knives.”

He exhales a breathy laugh, staring at you for several seconds before turning to pick the dagger up from the ground. He then proceeds to collect the rest of the knives that you had previously thrown from the body of the practice target.

In heavy silence, he struts over to you with the daggers in hand. He turns to face a wooden target board, finding the balance point of the knife before sending it flying through the air.

Bullseye.

“A long time ago, when I first joined this team, Charles made me practice a non-power related method of self-defense, too.” He pauses, lining the second dagger up with the practice dummy. To no surprise, it’s another perfect throw.

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

“How to annoy someone by sneaking up on them and giving them unsolicited advice while they are minding their own business?”

You position your feet once again, holding the knife up in preparation to take aim. Your eyes dart back and forth between the blade and the target ahead of you. You hesitate, feeling nervous under his gaze.

Logan moves from standing beside you, to standing behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as his large figure looms over you. If he were to took a step forward, his chest would brush against your back.

He uses the tip of his boot to nudge your heel forward half an inch, adjusting your stance. He takes your right hand in his, and you have to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

A wave of annoyance washes over you that he’s able to fluster you so easily. It makes you as pissed at yourself as it does him. He’s barely touching you – his hand dwarfing yours is the only point of physical contact, but you’d think that he were pinning you up against a wall with his body.

You tell yourself the sudden light-headedness and increased heartrate is because of the newfound closeness, and nothing more. You’re used to being around Logan – the two of you live together and work together. His general presence is nothing new. But the intimacy of your current predicament is.

And maybe the fact that notes of tobacco and bourbon are infiltrating your senses doesn’t help.

“As unsolicited as my advice may be,” he says lowly as he pulls your hand back slightly, “I give it because if there is ever a situation where someone's trying to hurt you, and you’re unable to light them on fire for some reason, I would really hope that you could at least impale them.”

He tightens his hold on your hand, and then snaps both of your wrists forward. Surprisingly, your brain registers to release your grip just in time. When the tip of the blade impales the center of the target perfectly, he drops your hand.

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

“Much better. Now come back upstairs. Charles needs to see all of us in his office.”

••••••

You and Logan are the last people to enter Charles’ office.

Storm, Scott, Jean, Marie, and Bobby have all found places to sit throughout the small room. Logan chooses to lean against the door that clicks shut behind him, while you exhale in relief at the sight of an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, next to Marie.

“Ah, how nice of you two to join us,” Charles greets. “I was starting to think that Logan got lost on his way to retrieve you.”

You force out a laugh, earning a side-eye from Marie as Charles launches back into whatever he had been in the middle of before you two interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Marie murmurs to you. “You looked a little sick when you walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug her off without looking at her. You keep your eyes on Charles. “Yeah, I'm just tired. Been training all morning.”

What were you supposed to tell her? That you were thankful to be wearing a tactical suit so that Logan couldn’t see all of the goosebumps that bloomed across your skin when he was practically breathing down your neck less than five minutes ago? Or that the walk back up to Charles’ office was filled with a loaded silence in place of your usual bickering and banter?

Marie might be one of your closest friends, and you trust her, but Logan is something of a fatherly figure to her. There’s no way you’re letting her hear those words come from your mouth.

You try your hardest to focus on all of the information that Charles throws at you. You’re all to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning. When he explains where you’re going and why, chills run down your spine.

Alberta, Canada – more specifically, Alkali Lake. All of your friends seem to tense up at the mere mention of the place.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the urge to sneak a glance to try to gauge Logan's reaction. You’ve never been to Alkali Lake before, and you’re far from excited about going – you can only imagine how he feels, given his history with the abandoned military base.

After no word of any activity surrounding the base for years, Charles had been made aware that the recent disappearance of a group of young adult humans had been traced back to Alkali Lake – to a modern day subsidiary of the group Weapon X.

The same group responsible for Logan’s skeleton being made from adamantium.

This, of course, is where all of you come in.

After a detailed rundown of the goals for tomorrow – the main one being safe extraction of the humans – Charles dismisses all of you to rest for the remainder of the day.

When everyone stands up, you finally risk glancing at Logan, but he’s already opening the door to Charles’ office and strutting away.

••••••

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs.

His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly.

You're putty in his hands.

“I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

You can only guess that the sounds he’s referring to are annoyed sighs and you telling him to shut the fuck up, but right now, you don't care enough to ask for any clarification.

“Yeah?” You yelp when his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. “Maybe if you spent less time pissing me off you’d get to—”

You're cut off by him plunging the tip of his index finger inside you. You writhe against him, your walls constricting around the digit.

“Less time pissing you off, more time letting you fuck my fingers and face. Got it.”

The slamming of a door somewhere outside of your room causes you to bolt upright in your bed.

You open your eyes to darkness except for the red glow of the numbers on your digital alarm clock that read 12:26 in the morning. Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and your skin is clammy with a thin layer of sweat. You throw your covers away from you in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck—”

You whisper the three words to yourself over and over again until your breathing resumes a normal pattern.

You’re alone, of course. In the comfort of your private room, where you had fallen asleep several hours ago. The difference between now and then is an uncomfortable pool of wetness between your legs, soaking your underwear.

You can’t even recall the last time you had such a vivid sex dream. It felt utterly lifelike – you reach down between your legs, trailing your fingers over the skin of your inner thighs where you had felt his beard tickle and tease you.

How the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, when you’re having to work together to rescue humans from Alkali Lake? How are you supposed to come up with smart-ass remarks for his endless taunting and teasing when you’re going to be trying your hardest to not replay the images of his hazel eyes looking up at from between your thighs?

“Get a fucking grip,” you whisper hiss to yourself.

It’s Logan. The same Logan who acted like he was too good to say more than ten words to you the first half a year that you were with the team. The same Logan that tries to get you benched for the dumbest, smallest reasons he can think of. The same Logan that condescendingly calls you kid or princess every chance he gets because he knows it gets under your skin.

You need a glass of water. And some fresh air, and a cold shower—

You start by picking up the pair of sweatpants that you’d discarded before falling asleep a few hours ago. You step back into them, deciding to trek to the kitchen for some ice water. Your mouth feels as dry as cotton.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away.

Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

You clear your throat to announce your presence, not quite trusting your voice to speak. He looks at you over his shoulder, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips.

You walk over to the cabinet beside him, keeping your eyes off of him entirely as you get a glass.

“What's got you awake at this hour?” He closes the fridge, leaning back against the edge of the countertop. The only light in the room now comes from the small, dim bulb above the sink.

If he only fucking knew, you think. If he only knew that the real reason you are out of bed right now is because you’d just woken up from an extremely graphic, jarring dream of you riding his face.

You fill the cup up with cold water from the kitchen sink and take a large swig before once again turning to face him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” you answer with a vague gesture to his half-dressed form and beer bottle.

He takes in your appearance, too. His eyes trail from your exposed feet, to your baggy sweatpants, and up to your even baggier t-shirt before settling on your face. You feel particularly vulnerable under his gaze right now. You compare how you look to how he looks – with his stupid abs that look like God himself chiseled them from stone and his sweatpants that hang just a little too comfortably.

You sip on your water just to keep from biting your lip.

“Guess we were both thirsty,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Guess so,” you hum, and because you don’t want to fall into an awkward silence and it’s the only thing you can think to add, you say, “Nervous about the mission?”

His expression darkens and posture tenses at your question. “I am,” he admits. “And if you knew as much as I do about that place, you’d be nervous, too.”

You huff. Your grip tightens around the glass in your hand at the mere insinuation that he knows your feelings. “Who says that I’m not?”

“If you’re going, you’re not nervous enough.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, knowing damn well the direction that this conversation is headed. You’d heard it all from him before – anything to keep you as far away from him as possible.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—”

You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over.

“Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

“I’m very aware of how long you’ve been with this team, bub,” he says calmly, which makes you all the more heated.

“For three years you’ve spewed every bullshit reason you can think of to keep me on the sidelines,” you laugh. “I wish you’d fucking admit that you just don’t like me. It’d be a lot more respectable than acting like you’re worried about—”

Logan’s gaze drops to the glass in your hand, making you come to an abrupt pause. You follow his stare, realizing that you’ve managed to melt the glass where your fingertips grip the glass. Water begins to leak out from the holes, spilling onto your sweatpants and the floor below you.

There’s no visible flames emanating from your fingertips. Your anger hadn’t progressed to full on fire, just intense heat, but still. No one else makes you come as close to losing control as him.

No one. And he seems to know it, too. You can tell by the smug look on his face.

You dump what little liquid is left into the sink before chucking the distorted glass into the garbage.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his.

“Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

You rip your hand away from him, an exaggerated look of disgust on your face. Your recent dream pops into your head and you have to remind yourself that he’s not Jean or Charles – he can’t read your mind.

“You're lucky that you've got those handy healing powers,” you spit as you once again begin exiting the kitchen. “If I thought there was a chance of it actually shutting you up, I’d burn more than just Charles’ vintage glassware.”

You hear him say your name, but you’re already speed walking back to your room and playing your list of happy place thoughts on a loop in your head.

The soup that Storm makes when everyone at the school seems to get sick at the same time. One of your younger students picking you a flower. The smell of fresh laundry, the crisp pages of a new book.

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

You would have been better off just enduring the discomfort of a dry throat, you think. You don't know what's worse – not being able to sleep because you're rattled from a wet dream about him, or not being able to sleep because you've once again allowed him to get under your skin.

You crawl back under your covers, hoping that when you close your eyes, you don't see his face again.

••••••

Logan doesn’t make any more appearances in your dreams for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t stop him from being the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in the morning.

And as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, the only thing on your mind the entire flight from New York to Alberta.

From the tension that filled the air when he corrected your knife throwing technique yesterday morning to the warmth of his calloused hand when he grabbed you by the wrist in the kitchen last night, you're fighting a losing battle with no one but yourself.

As far as you can tell, he’s utterly unaffected. The fact that he chose to sit directly in front of you on the jet instead of any of the other empty seats says as much.

Not even ten minutes into the flight, you're staring at the tufts of his hair and his broad shoulders when you have to remind yourself that there's two telepaths occupying this jet with you. Though you trust both Charles and Jean to not read your mind without cause, the mere possibility of either one of them accidentally tuning into your thoughts and seeing a replay of your most recent dream or hearing you think about what it would be like to tug on those stupid fucking tufts of hair that resemble kitten ears is enough to mortify you.

You find yourself grateful that you brought a book and headphones with you to distract yourself for the duration of the trip.

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath.

“Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water.

It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

As much as he infuriates you, you still care about him. You wish you could say that you didn’t, but the fact that you feel the urge to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze makes that pretty hard to deny.

That urge dissipates as quickly as it comes over you. The bitter chill of the mountain wind and your teammates voices pull you back to reality. You awkwardly fiddle with one of the daggers strapped to your thigh instead.

“Jean and Scott, the two of you take the west side of the building,” Charles instructs when the group nears the discreet entrance. “Bobby and Rogue, clear the east wing. Storm and I will be keeping watch outside to make sure that no one tries to escape with the humans.”

“What about us?” you ask with a slight nod towards Logan. The fact that neither of you had been given instructions yet leaves it to be assumed that you’ll be paired up together.

You and Logan working as a pair was nothing out of the ordinary, and although that typically comes with a lot of annoyance, right now you can’t help but feel a little relieved by it.

Even if you are still irritated at him for his behavior and choice of words in the kitchen last night and even if you do think of him between your thighs every time you look at him for more than five seconds, he’s still more familiar with this place than anyone else here.

And no matter how much he makes you want to tear your hair out, there's never a time that you feel unsafe when he's near.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk.

“I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble.

“No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

Logan snorts, earning curious glances from everyone other than you and Charles. He does get a nasty side-eye from you – a silent promise to deliver on last night’s threat to find something to burn other than vintage glassware.

Your teammates split up into their respective groups upon entering the base, leaving you to follow Logan's lead towards the lower levels.

It’s unsettling just how silent it is. The only sounds are that of yours and Logan's boots against the ground. You'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the building.

And it's cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones ache. You instinctively flex your fingers, focusing on the warmth that radiates from the tips.

As the two of you make your way through the dark, seemingly endless basement, checking each room for signs of life, you can't help but think of Logan being here under much different circumstances.

You don't know the full extent of his time here – even he only remembers bits and pieces. But you know enough to know that this can’t be easy for him.

The fact that he's being uncharacteristically quiet only reaffirms that. He makes none of his typical taunts and jabs, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

You find yourself damn near wishing he’d make some snide comment about how you’re walking too loudly and how being partnered up with you feels like babysitting duty – if he did, maybe then you wouldn’t feel this annoying, persistent worry over his mental well-being.

“Logan,” you begin quietly as the two of you approach a large set of hospital style double doors at the end of a corridor. “I know being here can't be easy for you. I'm sorry that you have to be.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, not meeting your eyes as he slowly pushes one of the doors open, peaking into the room before stepping inside and holding the door open for you.

“Just part of the job, bub,” he sighs. “I know what I signed up for.”

You enter, walking past him into the dark room. You shine your flashlight around the cramped space. Right away, you can tell that it’s vacant, as all of the other rooms you’ve checked have been. But it’s different – whereas most of the rooms have been completely empty, this one contains multiple twin sized beds. No frames, no pillows, just plain white sheets on each one.

“I know you do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and he shines his own flashlight around the room from right behind you.

“It’s okay, princess,” he snorts. “I’m a big boy. You don’t gotta pretend to be worried about me.”

Princess. Your fingertips tingle as soon as the pet name leaves his lips.

“I’m not pretend—”

The sudden, loud clicking of a deadbolt echoes through the room, silencing you. You and Logan stare at each other for a brief moment, startled and confused, before he turns around and pushes on the double doors to no avail.

He slams the full weight of his body against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

“What the fuck,” he growls in between repeated strikes against the doors.

“Logan and I are locked in a room in the basement,” you say as you click on the communication device in your left ear. “The door automatically locked after we came inside. We can’t get it open—”

You’re met with white noise.

“My fucking comm isn’t working.” Panic begins to set in as you yank the device out of your ear to inspect it. There’s a small green light indicating that it is on, but for whatever reason, it isn’t getting signal.

“Scott? Storm? Can anyone hear us?” Logan says as he messes with his own communication device. “Nothing,” he grunts after a moment of silence.

“Professor? Jean? If either of you are listening, now would be a great time to poke around in our brains and let us know.”

Nothing indeed.

“Okay,” Logan says as he backs away from the double doors. “Blast them.”

“Blast them?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “They’re industrial metal doors. They’re like two feet thick. These walls are made out of concrete.” You bang your first against the rock solid wall for emphasis. “What the fuck do you think fire is—”

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

“How about not setting the room we are trapped in on fire? Only one of us has regenerative—”

A loud hissing noise sounds from above, causing you and Logan to both point your flashlights up towards the ceiling. You squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Large vents make up well over fifty percent of the ceiling, releasing what appears to be a fog like substance. It quickly transforms the air above you into one large, milky looking cloud.

“Charles! Storm! Scott – we need help. Quickly, we need help. I don’t know what’s going—”

You continue to shout into the communication device while Logan alternates between punching the door with his fists and throwing the full weight of his body against the metal, but all of your efforts are futile. The doors don’t budge, and you hear nothing but static from the comm.

You frantically glance around the room, looking for another escape route. There’s no other doors, and no windows. You’re completely enclosed by the four concrete walls and the impenetrable metal doors.

“Hold your breath!” Logan shouts as the fog descends upon the two of you, but it’s too late. The sickeningly sweet smelling mist encompasses you, making it impossible to see anything other than the thick silver vapor. It infiltrates your nostrils, causing you to gag. You cough, desperately trying to clear your airway of the substance.

It burns – your throat, your nostrils, your eyes and skin. Anywhere that it comes in contact with you feels like pins and needles.

You’re vaguely aware that Logan is somewhere to your left, asking if you’re okay in-between coughs and gags of his own. You can’t catch your breath well enough to answer him.

His hand clasps around the top of your arm. Your vision goes fuzzy and you collapse into him, light-headed from the profuse coughing.

“I think it’s dissipating,” Logan whispers in a strained voice, still supporting you so that you don’t fall to the floor. You risk cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, and realize that he’s right. There’s still a veil of mist surrounding you, but it’s no longer so opaque that you can’t see even two inches in front of your face.

You take deep breaths, making no effort to step away from him as you attempt to regain control of your breathing. Your lungs feel like they are on fire and your throat feels like you haven’t had any water in days.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice comes out as a croak.

“Can you stand?” he asks you. You nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace.

As soon as he steps away from you to see if the doors are still locked, the momentary relief that you felt when the fog began to dissipate is replaced with renewed terror. The room, which was previously dark except for the light from your flashlights, suddenly glows a deep red color from the ceiling that now emits crimson fluorescence.

You open your mouth to call out for Charles or Jean again, when a throbbing sensation radiates throughout your gut. You clutch your hands over your abdomen, gasping at the sudden and awkward feeling.

Logan turns his attention away from the doors and back to you as soon as he notices how you’re hunched over. You stumble over to the bed that's closest to you, the world blurring around you in shades of red.

“Something is wrong,” you gasp out. You know you're stating the obvious – something has been wrong since the moment that the doors locked behind you.

He's next to you in two long strides, kneeling beside the bed and looking up at you in concern. The ache in your lower belly seems to worsen with his close proximity. Your skin feels feverish, making you want to peel your tactical suit off of your body.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he demands. Other than obvious confusion and fear, he appears physically fine. You piece together that whatever that shit was, it’s effecting you much differently than it is him – undoubtedly due to his healing abilities.

You can't form a coherent sentence – all you can focus on is the way that the discomfort in your abdomen travels down to your groin, making you clench your thighs together. You have the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull him to you, as if having him as close as possible to you is the only solution for every uncomfortable thing happening to you.

“You gotta talk to me, bub. Tell me what’s going on,” he says when you don’t answer him. He puts a hand just above your knee and you have to hold back the whimper that threatens to break through your lips. He notices your pained expression and quickly withdraws his hand from your thigh.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand in yours out of desperation to maintain some level of physical contact with him. “I – I don't know how to explain what’s happening. Just – I just need you to keep touching me. Please. Whatever that fog was, it’s making me feel like…”

You trail off, realizing that you must sound every bit as insane as you feel. You don’t know how to begin articulating what’s happening to you, because it makes no sense. When the silver mist first started to rain down from the ceiling, the last thing on your mind was Logan pinning you to one of these mattresses and railing you until you until you see stars. Now, you think that if he so much as stops holding your hand, you'll fucking die.

A look of clarity washes over Logan’s face – with a hint of something else that you can't quite pinpoint, too.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself.

“I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—”

“What is it?” you implore.

His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs –

“It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

You let his words sink in. It’s not something you’ve ever heard of, but you don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. How could you, with the way that your pussy is throbbing at the mere sound of his voice? Under normal circumstances, you might not read too far into that. But right now? On a mission, locked in a creepy basement, unable to get in contact with your teammates?

“Weren’t able to fight it,” you repeat slowly. “You're saying there’s only one way out of this.”

He doesn’t answer – just looks at you with sympathy. With pity.

“No,” you shake your head. You yank your hand from his grasp and move back across the mattress as the gravity of the situation hits you. To distance yourself from him feels like ripping air out of your own lungs, but the alternative is borderline unthinkable.

“I can’t – won’t ask that of you,” you declare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that laughs at you, as if saying it’s cute that you think you have a choice. The pain and longing grow with each passing second, threatening to consume you from the inside out.

“You’re fine. It would be different if it was both of us. But you shouldn’t have to do this just because you're stuck here with me.”

“Have to? You make it sound like it would be a punishment for me,” he chuckles darkly. He finally rises from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. He stands beside the mattress, looming over you in the maroon lighting.

“Let’s not overcomplicate this, princess,” he murmurs. He grasps your face in his palm and tilts your head to look up at him. His touch is a balm – it feels like running a burn under a cold stream of water.

“I'm gonna take care of you, and then you can go right back to tolerating my existence.” He runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of the singular digit against your flesh.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?”

Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist.

He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink.

As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

You’re past the point of finding it in you to care about consequences. You’re no longer thinking about how you’ll be able to look him in the eye when this is over, or how you’ll pretend like everything is perfectly normal when the two of you are back on the jet with your teammates.

Maybe you can fight this drug, or maybe he’s right and there’s no point in trying. Either way, you’ve decided that you're going to have him before you leave this room.

You drop his hand, bringing yours to the zipper at the neckline of your tactical suit. You slowly tug it downwards, gauging his expression as he watches you expose your chest and stomach.

For once, he’s all out of smart remarks.

A part of you feels a sense of satisfaction and wants to continue taking your time with undressing yourself, just to keep him looking at you like this – but every fiber of your being is screaming at you for more.

You waste no more time with shoving the restrictive Kevlar material down your arms, leaving you in only your bra from the waist up. Logan unfreezes at the sight, crawling onto the bed on his knees. You maneuver yourself so that you’re laying flat against the mattress, pulling him down with you.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth.

His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

Your complaint dies in your throat when he slates his lips over yours.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way that he kisses you. He slips his tongue past your lips, moving his lips with fervency and urgency – like he needs this as badly as you do.

You buck your hips up into him, desperate for any amount of friction. He grinds down against you, his erection evident even through the thick material of both of your tactical suits.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss to unzip your suit the rest of the way down. He peels it down your thighs, only stopping to discard your boots. When you’re left in only your underwear, he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So, what exactly was I doing in your dream to have you saying my name like that, huh?” he asks as he toys with the waistband of your panties.

You roll your eyes, your patience growing thinner as the ache in your belly grows stronger. He can tease you about that all he wants when you’re back in the safety of the mansion, when you’re no longer under the influence of potentially life threatening chemicals and capable of thinking of a proper comeback.

“Shut up and eat me out.”

His smirk only grows, but he doesn’t tease you any further. He tugs your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He lowers himself onto his stomach, still fully dressed. Under less dire circumstances, you would’ve been eager to get him out of his clothes, too – but right now, your highest priority is feeling his mouth on you.

No wet dream could have prepared you for how euphoric it actually feels for his teeth to nip at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, or the way that his tongue draws lazy circles at your hole before his lips lock around your clit.

You writhe against him, chasing the release that you’ve been desperate for since the second the vapor first came in contact with your skin. He’s more than generous, expertly nursing at your swollen bud as he eases a slender finger inside your cunt.

One finger – that’s all it takes to feel your climax building, the coil in your lower belly tightening. You feel your walls pulse around the digit as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even try to hold back your cries and praises of pleasure, letting him know how good he’s making you feel.

When he sits back, his lips and beard glisten with your slick in the red glow that encases you both. You push yourself into a sitting position and reach for the zipper of his suit, antsy to shed his clothing now that your physical discomfort had been quelled – at least for the time being.

He helps you, shrugging out of his vest and tugging his undershirt over his head. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but never shirtless for you. You want to dig your nails into the planes of his chest, and run your tongue along the protruding vein that disappears beyond the waistline of his pants –

You undo his belt buckle and pop open the button of his pants before hastily yanking both his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs free, bobbing inches before your face. You start to adjust your position on the bed – to get on your knees and take him in your mouth – when a low chuckle causes you to pause and look up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, earning a confused pout from you.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows.

“S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.”

You aren’t going to argue with that.

You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices.

“Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

He fucks you similarly to how he kisses you – like this is saving him as much as it is you. It's rough, and fast, and messy – and you dread the moment that it’s over.

No one has ever filled you as completely and perfectly as him. You don’t think anyone else ever will, again.

Each drag of his cock along your walls has you clenching around him, each time his head rams against your cervix you can’t help but cry his name.

He snakes his hand in between you, reaching down to where his body collides with yours. His thumb massages over your sensitive clit.

You rake your nails down his back and he hisses in approval, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess,” he grunts before kissing you again.

You don't have time to overthink the sentiment before your second orgasm is washing over you. Logan cums as soon as he feels your pussy pulsating around him, fucking you until he's spilled every last drop of his warm seed deep inside you. When you're both finished, he stills inside you and rests his sweat-slicked forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

As if on cue, you hear the deadbolt unlock from the other side of the room. A second later, Storm’s voice sounds from your communication device that had fallen to the floor at some point.

“I don't feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside my vagina anymore. So, I’d say yeah, it worked.”

He huffs a laugh, and then pulls out of you with a sigh.

“Logan,” you say, stopping him before he can pull away from you entirely. He stares down at you, waiting for you to continue.

You aren’t even sure what to say. Truthfully, you just weren’t ready for the moment to end and for things to go back to normal between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spit out after a moment of loaded silence. “For… helping me,” you finish lamely.

“Don’t thank me, bub,” he chuckles. “It’s far from the worst thing that's happened to me in this place.”

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

And as soon as you've showered and your head hits the pillow after returning home to the mansion, you sleep for another ten hours. Every time you wake up and think that you're finally well-rested, your body says otherwise and you're asleep again within minutes.

You wish you could say it’s a dreamless sleep, but that would be a lie. You see Logan’s face every time you close your eyes.

But it's different than the last dream you had of him. It isn’t images of his head between your thighs or his fingers slipping in and out of you.

It’s just.. him. His presence. The lingering feeling of his lips on yours, the light flavor of tobacco and menthol.

And the echo of the words he spoke as he teased you with the head of his cock and made you cum around his length.

“Don’t you worry, though. If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I’ll let you.”

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess.”

When you wake, the ache between your thighs for him remains, despite the fact that the effects of the drugs had long since faded.

You know you shouldn’t read too far into words spoken while the two of you were locked in that room. But you can’t help but keep thinking that he wasn’t under the influence of chemical subjugation. Which leaves you questioning if he meant the things he said, or if he was just trying to lighten a scary, impossible situation for both of you.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When you finally gather the courage the knock on his door, the sun has set and everyone has retired to their bedrooms for the evening.

You almost dash back into your own room during the few seconds that it takes him to open his door. He wears sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a surprised expression.

“Hey, bub,” he greets you apprehensively. You don't normally make a habit of stopping by his room for late night chats. “Was starting to worry that you’d fallen into a coma.”

He opens his door wider, motioning with his head for you to come inside.

“Felt like it,” you give a small laugh. “Whatever was in that shit wore me out.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, nervously wringing your hands together.

“You feeling better now?” he asks as he leans against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes trail over the large muscles of his chest and shoulders. The memory of his body caging you to the twin sized mattress in the basement of the bunker flashes through your mind.

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

“All things considered,” you shrug. “I just wanted to check in with you. Has Charles… said anything?”

What you're actually trying to ask is if Charles interrogated him about where the two of you were during the mission, why no one was able to contact either of you, and why you have been so exhausted that you've done nothing but sleep for the last day, but you trust that he knows what you mean.

“He hasn’t said anything, but..” he trails off, eyes darting around the room to avoid your gaze. “It’s Charles. Safe to assume he knows and is just being decent by not saying anything.”

“Right,” you murmur.

If he doesn’t already know, it's only a matter of time before you slip up and imagine the feeling of his lips on yours or the sounds of his moans in the middle of a mission debriefing.

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

“They are,” he assures you with a soft smile. “They’re all receiving medical attention, and most have been reunited with their loved ones.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “No thanks to us, I guess.”

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

He pushes himself off the dresser, walking the few feet to where you perch at the edge of the mattress. He sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He smells of Old Spice deodorant and spearmint toothpaste, and it makes you the room spin around you.

“But everyone’s okay. They’re safe. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. He’s close enough that you can practically feel the heat from his body. You risk looking at his face, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “You’re right. Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in with—”

You start to stand up, when he cups your jaw in his hand and pulls your face to his. He’s hesitant in a way that he wasn’t yesterday – he gives you the opportunity to pull away before he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip, as if asking for permission.

When you don’t give any kind of indication that you want him to stop, he pulls you flush against him and slips his tongue past your lips. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, twining your fingers through his hair.

He takes his time with you. Whereas yesterday’s kisses were filled with urgency and desperation, todays is tender and sensual. Now, you’re allowed the luxury of taking your time.

He lays down against the mattress, pulling you with him. You straddle his stomach, your lips never once breaking contact. His hands grip the globes of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat through your pajama pants.

You grind against the hard planes of his abdomen, earning a throaty growl from him.

He breaks away, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath.

“What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?”

“No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—”

“What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest.

“I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.”

You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

oooops i accidentally wrote another fic where logan overhears something that he wasn't supposed to 😅🫠 did not originally plan for that to happen hahaha

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #logan x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett one shot #sex pollen #sex pollen trope #days of future past #xmen #xmen days of future past #xmen dofp

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antivanlights · 2 days ago

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I have WRITTEN MORE about this concept. It's like 1k words so I'm adding a cut on this one too... Oh, Illario.

Alright, so I’m thinking that in this scenario Illario would obviously go through a rollercoaster of emotions. At first, he could just play it cool, flirty and stupid casual. Their “thing” happened like 8 years ago (I picture my Rook to be around 30), so they’re basically total strangers now anyway, right? Their interactions are brief and they dance around each other with ease. He doesn’t particularly care about Rook, nor their plans immediately. Figures they won’t get very far, certainly not with his possessed, traumatized disaster of a cousin tagging along. Fighting against gods? He’s giving the group a month or two, tops.

MEANWHILE: Imagine how Rook would feel by falling for a Dellamorte again. I’m sure they wanted to bash their head in against the fish tank in their room upon realizing how totally smitten they were. Perhaps the first few flirts were playful - just a Crow following the script. But as they continued to get to know Lucanis, Rook realized how different he is - how lovely. He’s funny, he’s sweet, he fights really cool doing all sorts of stabby flips... but he’s also hurting and he needs support and Rook wants to do everything, anything they can to help and AARRGH! Now all the flirts are real and Rook can imagine a life with Lucanis while Viago’s familiar voice is echoing in their head: Idiot!

Back in Treviso Illario is actually smug, entertained even when he discovers that Rook and Lucanis have something going on. “Ah, my cousin seems to have taken a liking to my leftovers.” On top of that, a part of him is making it all about himself. Is Rook entertaining Lucanis to get back at me? How fun.

But unfortunately for Illario, the bond between his cousin and Rook is very much real and he is NOT a part of the equation in any shape or form. Rook’s team keeps securing victory after victory, and his cousin is looking more alive than ever. Demon aside (Why isn’t anyone complaining more about the demon? Hello?), Lucanis is now surrounded by friends, regarded as a funny and generous companion (What?), and he and Rook keep giving each other these looks. So now he’s feeling jealous. And a tiny part of him is terrified of the thought that all this happiness and glory could have been his. What if he hadn’t toyed around with Rook? What if things had somehow worked out and he had been the one to join Rook’s team? Would he be smiling like Lucanis? Would he be on a completely different path? A better one?

He catches Lucanis glaring daggers at him from the distance one day. Does he know? He probably knows. (I picture Rook telling him about the disaster with Illario, and Lucanis telling them about the embarrassing thing with Viago in return one evening over wine and snacks.)

So when his schemes fail and he falls to his knees, bloody and disgraced in front of his cousin, he accepts Rook’s disdain. And yet…

SCENE!

Rook entered the heavily guarded wing of the Dellamorte villa, nodding at the guards as they made their way to Illario’s room. He was being kept at the villa for questioning, but Rook figured that this was also another way of protecting him. That said, they were keenly aware of the magical wards set at every door and window – most likely set to incapacitate or eliminate Illario if he tried something.

Pushing open the door to his room, Rook stepped inside. Illario was sitting at the edge of his bed, just staring out towards the balcony he could not step out into. Upon hearing the door and the accompanying steps, he turned to watch as Rook casually made their way inside. Rook closed the door behind them and leaned against it. Rook spoke first, arms crossed against their chest.

“Won’t lie, what you did was horrific and they should’ve probably cut you down on the spot.”

Illario threw himself back, laying on the bed while his feet dangled off the edge. “Ugh, is that all you came here to say?”

The was a brief pause before Rook let out a breath. “Nah. What I wanted to say is that as horrific as it was, you were exactly who we were trained to be. I get it, I guess…” Rook turned their face to look towards the balcony before they continued. “My point is… You can make a choice now.”

Illario audibly scoffed, propping himself up on elbows to look at Rook. “Are you suggesting I can still be redeemed, Rook?”

Rook shrugged but did not meet his gaze. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

Illario opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Rook met his gaze and they remained like that for a few seconds.

“I’ll get going now, have a meeting. I’m usually around if you need someone to talk to. As a friend. Just let your guards know and they’ll find me.” Rook quickly turned around and exited to room, the door shutting gently behind them.

Illario lay there, half-stunned as he stared at the door. “Friend?”

END SCENE!

So after that I feel like Rook, Lucanis, Viago and Teia will continue their work to reform the Crows into something less… exploitative? They’re an assassin’s guild, sure, but the constant infighting, cruelty, and awful training/recruiting tactics made for a terrible business model in long need of change.

At some point, they’ll likely let Illario out of his containment unit and just tell him to help out with a ton of things (under careful supervision). I’d like to think that at this point, he’d start to come in regular contact with all the companions and members from their allied factions. Eventually, he’d have the opportunity to forge genuine friendships. Maybe one day he’ll pull through a tough situation and save everyone’s asses.

Later on, he’d be able to make a choice for himself, for his future - be it within or out of the Crows. Though he’d probably have to fake his own death and forge a new identity to get away from it all. But I’m sure the team would help.

Alright that’s all I got this time. Thanks for joining me in this pit of lunacy.

Imagine how wild it’d be if Illario were Crow Rook’s ex. I know it’s crazy but listen: the drama of it.

Full conspiracy-theory level rambling under the cut.

Imagine Rook, long before they got their nickname, working their way through their training, a proud new member of House de Riva. They’re talented, but reckless and naïve. Viago does what he can to instill discipline and wisdom on his charge, but he’s not a miracle worker.

At the same time, Illario is perfecting his skills, mapping out his ambitions. They meet out of pure coincidence, but Illario’s attention immediately clings to them – what a pretty, new toy he has found. His charms work and a young Rook is dazzled. Perhaps its their naïveté, perhaps they’re still trying to find some good in the dark alleys of Treviso. Unfortunately for them, it’s over as soon as it starts.

Rook is promptly left alone to their thoughts – heart broken and personality hardened. “I have better things to do. Bigger plans to follow.” Illario will say as he walks out on them, content with having gotten to play with the pretty toy, content with having broken it. “We have never met. You understand, right?” With that, he will leave, never waiting for a response.

Now, Viago won’t know the full picture, but he will understand that something happened. He’s no stranger to situationships and he will feel that this one was bad. From there on, he will make sure that his protégé’s business never crosses paths with that of the Dellamorte’s. Rook’s career in the Crows will continue with them never coming into contact with anyone from the House – for better or worse.

Years later, Rook is in front of Caterina Dellamorte. Rook and Illario play their parts: they have never met. Viago will play along. It’s none of my business, he’ll think.

But now imagine, Lucanis is alive and well - he's even reached an understanding with his demon. He has found true companionship and love with Rook – and its real. By the Maker, it’s real. Illario can see how they look at each other, how they fight together. Their smiles, their discrete touches. By the end of their adventures, Lucanis has also gone and freed their home, saved the world and secured the seat of First Talon.

Meanwhile, Illario sits alone in a room on the far edge of the villa. Marked as a traitor, completely disgraced. All his plans failed. He’s angry and he’s jealous and he can remember how Rook feels under his touch.

And all this misery? It was dealt by his own hand.

#illario dellamorte #making a thesis at this point #lucanis dellamorte #rook de riva #lucanis x rook #rookanis #but also #illario x rook #in a past sense rip #datv spoilers #yapping #rubbing my hands together like an evil dirty little bug

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everlastingdreams · 1 day ago

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The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 42

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: A Web Of Spiders

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter: 42/47

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By the time darkness fell over the land, which was earlier than it had been in the warmer days, the thieves had brought the wagon all the way to their camp. There were not many tents and all looked like they had survived a few storms, for the rest there were blankets and items on the ground that marked their sleeping spots. Gerold, a muscular build man with a beard that reached his abdomen, was in charge of them. He pulled you down from the wagon and began to lead you to one of the tents.

“You’re going to tell me exactly where you got that coin.” He shoved you into the tent and followed inside.

You swiftly turned to face him. “I will tell you nothing unless I get my ring back.”

Gerold took the ring out of his pocket, holding it between his thumb and index finger. “You do not get to make demands. You will cooperate or I’ll let you watch as I put a hammer to this.”

He spoke so condescending, so cruelly. Cassian and him would have been good friends.

“Now. Tell me.” he demanded.

The cloak of silence fell over you. There was no chance that you were going to send that group of violent thieves to the home the others were fighting to build.

It angered him. He grabbed hold on you and bound you with your back to the wooden beam in the midst of the tent. “Want to play the quiet mouse, eh? Let’s see how quiet you can stay after starving for a few days.”

From experience, you knew you could go days without a meal before your nagging stomach won from your stubborn head.

A woman entered the tent, her voice rough as she spoke to him. “You’ll get to starve for a few days too if you do not come and eat the meal I made!”

The fearsome attitude of him faltered at the threat of her. He walked out of the tent under her scolding eyes.

She turned to you for a moment with a look of disgust. “You would do well not to anger him. My husband will carve into your skin until you yield.”

It slipped off of your tongue. “I hope he is a patient man then.”

She was not amused by the wit. “I’ll ask him to carve my name into your back. See if you still dare to talk back to me after that.”

She all but stormed out of the tent furious, proving how ill-tempered she was. Tied to a wooden beam in the midst of the tent, oh how familiar. Your satchel was discarded further away after they had simply taken the coins out of it, the rest was not worth their time. Not even your weapons had caught their interest, they were tossed on the satchel. The scent of what they had prepared for themselves to eat hanged around the tent, they chatted among each other outside as if it was a regular occurrence to abduct a person and tie them up for coin. Now that you were alone, you let yourself calm down and focus on getting out of there alive.

You thought back to the time when you were forced to create the mystical fire to make Father Carden spare the journal from the flames. Lancelot’s presence and touch had made it easier to bring it forward, but time had proven that you were able to do it on your own as well. A lack of experience and practise did not stop you now to try and call upon the magic resting within your being. There was no plant’s sap in your veins to silence the magic within them. ‘Strong emotions could control it’ is what Merlin had said. And so you closed your eyes, letting the voices outside fade out as your mind traveled to find what it needed. It came in the form of the vision the Old Gods had fed to you and got stronger when thinking of your ring in the hands of that rotten bastard who’s comrades had struck Lancelot earlier. With deep breaths you tried to control the awakening of the fire, letting it’s sparks turn the rope at your wrists into ashes. You took the lantern that stood on the floor of the tent, opening it’s hinged glass door to reach the flame. It took focus and patience, a difficult matter when in the midst of an enemy camp where time was of the essence, but the flame transformed into the beautiful bright green you were growing to love. You were going to get that ring and wagon back, at all cost.

Upon stepping out of the tent. The startled eyes and the sounds of steel being drawn filled the night. You locked eyes with Gerold, who had been enjoying his meal, and quietly asked the Hidden for some help. You held the lantern up for him to see and quirked an arrogant brow, then slammed the lantern against the ground, it’s glass shattered on impact. The Fey Fire freed itself and unleashed upon the camp, feeding itself on your intent. A ruthless power cast it’s wrath down upon the thieves, burning all it could touch of them. Some fled into the forest, some got caught in the fire and some perished at the steel of your weapons. Your markings burned a fiery crimson beneath your eyes, letting them know exactly who was responsible for their demise. The Hidden were on your side now, protecting one of their clan who was bound to their kin. Gerold had been caught by the fire and had rolled over the ground in a desperate attempt to extinguish it, it was a choice of the Hidden to allow it.

You walked up to him whilst he was still in shock on the ground and took the ring from his pocket, slipping it back on your finger. “I should let you burn. But I will be merciful.”

He shook violently. “What are you?!?”

“Your undoing.” Mercy came in the form of your sword sinking into his heart, twisting the blade before pulling it back out again.

As you slowly stepped back, the fire consumed him whole. The chaos around you faded only slowly as the fire erased the presence of the camp entirely. One thing remained untouched by the flames, that old rattling wagon that held the spark of new hope for the Fey.

A little while later the flames had nearly all faded out, what was left of the camp had turned to ashes. This group of thieves had been a threat to all they’d encounter, a problem that was now dealt with. Those who had fled were fortunate and you hoped they were wise enough not to return to what they had so narrowly escaped.

You were loading up the wagon again. Folding all they had so carelessly tossed around in search of more coin. The sound of approaching horses made you seek cover behind the wagon. You heard them come to a halt, and seconds later footsteps. You quietly drew your dagger, ready to face the ones who had returned after fleeing. Footsteps were near your left side, just around the corner of the wagon. You moved out of hiding and grabbed hold of them, dagger moving to strike.

“Whoa! Stop!” Arthur was planted with his back against the wagon, taken by surprise by your sudden attack.

You let go of him immediately. “Gods… Arthur. I’m sorry! I thought it was those thieves again.”

Lancelot’s voice came from behind you, “Fortunately, this one is on our side.”

Arthur glared at him for the remark, but you did not notice. You were quick to close the distance and wrap your arms around Lancelot who had not seemed to have expected the reaction.

He brought an arm around to hold you. “Have they harmed you? What happened here?”

“I’m alright. I used my magic against them.” You held up your hand, showing him the ring. “I got our things back.”

“You did all this?” Arthur was flabbergasted.

Lancelot did not hide that it impressed him. “Did you?”

You turned to Arthur, fearing an ill response from him. “They were dangerous. I didn’t want them to ruin what we are building at the fort.”

Lancelot gave a nod. “A wise choice.”

Arthur turned to him. “She burned them alive…”

“And we slaughtered those we fought earlier.” he reminded Arthur. “They were going to do the same to us, Arthur. The amount of gold we possess will make monsters of the greatest saints.”

Arthur paced around a little, stopping only to speak to you, “You’re a weapon.”

It was the wrong thing to say, even though you knew it was not meant as an insult to you. Arthur was simply thinking about the usefulness of your power.

But when Lancelot heard it being said, he reacted furious. “She is no weapon!”

Arthur had not expected the strong reaction. “I didn’t mean-”

He got closer to Arthur, trying to contain the fury within. “And no one will make her to be one.”

It hit you right there and then that he would not allow anyone to turn you into a weapon, because he had had no one there to protect him from those who had made him into one. The Fey Fire roaring in the blood of your clan was a weapon that many would wish to possess.

You placed a hand on Lancelot’s arm, feeling the tension leave it right away. “Arthur was just pointing out that this magic is a useful help. He wouldn’t do what Father Carden planned to do.”

A flash of remorse for the past flashed through those weeping eyes, once he had been the one involved in that plan to make you into a weapon for the paladins and now he was protecting you from it. Even though he knew you had forgiven him, he still looked uncomfortable at the memory of it.

He turned to Arthur. “Forgive me. I lost my patience.”

Arthur made a jest about it to break the tension. “At least the sword stayed sheathed.”

Lancelot tried one of his own, “Gawain will not be pleased if I return with your corpse.”

That only pinched at Arthur’s ego. “What makes you think you could best me?”

“Is it not obvious to you?” he said, sounding just a tad condescending.

You groaned loudly, pushing past them to go to Bear and see if he was alright. There was not a scratch on him and the stallion was happy to see you unharmed as well. Goliath must have suffered from the lack of attention from you, because he bit a hold on the sleeve of your jacket and proceeded to pull until you were closer to him.

“Goliath!” Lancelot quickly commanded, “Loose!”

The horse let go, but did proceed to demand your attention by bumping his nose against your head and blowing air through his nose into your face. You petted Goliath’s neck, cooing some sweet words to the wise animal.

“You’re just as needy as your rider.” you whispered to the stallion.

The whisper had been a little too loud as Arthur laughed while he walked by to take charge of the wagon again, he received a glare from Lancelot. You dared to stick your tongue out to the annoyed Ash Man to tease him further.

His fingers caught your chin, taking hold of it, index and thumb at each corner of your mouth. “That is not very ladylike.”

The fall of his gaze to your lips was blatantly obvious. Goliath bit hold on his cloak, giving it one firm tug, believing if he was denied your attention he would deny it his rider too. Lancelot stumbled back, having to grab hold onto the saddle to keep his balance.

“Problem?” Arthur asked him very cheery.

“No.” he sounded less cheery.

You hoisted yourself into Bear’s saddle while Lancelot quietly scolded Goliath for his behavior. The stallion just nudged him in the chest a few times, bored by it. He gave up, tied the reins of Arthur’s horse to the saddle, and pulled himself into Goliath’s saddle.

“How did you two find me?” you wondered out loud.

Lancelot looked your way. “We saw the green flames in the distance. It does stand out well in the darkness.”

You tried to see if there were any other injuries on him beside the obvious bruising on the corner of his jaw. “Are you two alright? I saw you and Arthur be struck when you fought them.”

He smiled to himself at the memory of his first encounter in battle with the Manblood. “He will live. It’s not the first beating he endured.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Alright… and you?”

He put your mind at ease, “It’s nothing a salve cannot heal.”

You hoped it was the truth. “Just let me know if you need help putting the salve on then.”

A dashing lopsided smirk appeared on his face before he turned his head to look at you riding beside him. “Of course.”

He doubted he could not manage alone, but the offer was too tempting to decline.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Upon arriving back at the castle, Gawain had stood at the gate with his arms crossed. From his stance alone everyone could see that he was not pleased to see the three of you arrive back so late and nearing the night.

The knight looked at all as he demanded an answer. “Where the bloody hell have you been?!?”

“We went to the market as you asked.” Arthur began. “Ran into thieves who stole the wagon and wares we bought. Oh, and they took her with them.”

Gawain blinked a few times, then turned his attention to Lancelot. “Well?”

“We got her back.” Was what the tongue-tied Ash Man blurted out.

“Yes. I can see that.” Gawain sighed. “I meant to ask if we need to be worried about being met with retribution coming from these thieves?”

Lancelot glanced at you for a second, a sly smirk curving his lips. “I do not believe we will have to worry about any trouble regarding it.”

Gawain looked at you for confirmation and saw you nod sheepishly. “Good. Leave the wagon here, we will get some of Red’s crew to unload it. Supper is nearly cold but it will still be better than an empty stomach.”

You followed the knight into the castle and were greeted by Percival whom you told of the clothes you had bought for him. The boy was eager to see them, but the knight steered him towards the dining hall and you promised you’d give the clothes to him later. Percival told you and Lancelot all about the day he had spend helping the Green Knight, he felt so proud to be able to help. You did have to remind him that his potatoes were getting cold, but the boy simply spoke while he chewed much to the dislike of Lancelot who tried to teach him not to do so.

After an hour or so, when all were done with supper, Gawain had put down a scroll of parchment to discuss with Arthur what needed to be done for the castle while the rest quietly watched on. Most were too tired to truly pay attention, while Gawain showed no signs of exhaustion at all as if having this new hope fueled him body and soul. Red Spear looked beyond annoyed by another list of tasks being spoken about so late in the evening, it would not be long before she retreated to her quarters. Merlin tried to look interested but the tankard of ale had most of his attention. Pym was making a pattern on the table with some almonds. Lancelot tried to listen to the many plans Gawain thought up on the spot to help decide what needed to be focused on first. Steel would be arranged to forge weapons, a garden to plant vegetables that would sustain those of the castle, and then there was the repair of one of the water wells on the east side of the castle.

You struggled to keep your attention on their discussion, often taking a sip of water to stay awake. Even Percival had gone to bed when Gawain brought the list to table. Almost did you doze off to sleep, but a loud crack of thunder slammed you back awake. Oh, how you hated thunder and lightning, the sound alone awoke a deep primal fear in you that you couldn’t truly explain.

Lancelot had seen your startled reaction. “Is everything alright?”

You nodded, too proud to admit how much you hated the sound of thunder. He slipped his hand under the table, grazing it over your knee.

“You can go to bed.” Lancelot whispered to you. “Gawain can go on for the rest of the night. He will tell us again in the morning when he finally makes up his mind.”

You realized that you weren’t sure where to even sleep. “Should I go to the room where we were in last night?”

He gave a nod. “Yes. I chose that one. Did you like it?”

“Good choice.” You smiled.

For a moment, the light of the candelabras fell so perfectly on his face, making him look as ethereal as a deity. He took a few sips from his tankard of water.

You got up from the chair, leaning down just to whisper to him, “You are exceptionally handsome.”

That tankard halted before it could touch his lips again. The heat of the candles could not have caused the sudden slow reddening of his cheeks.

The compliment swept into his being, so gentle and welcome. So unexpected and wanted. Your voice had been sweet, a silken ribbon flowing through his ears.

He caught you by the wrist before you could take a step away, making you look down at him to see why. All eyes of the dining hall were on the former Weeping Monk who had made such quick sudden movements, trying to understand the situation before them. His eyes slightly narrowed, the decision in him was being made. He stood, feeling the stares glued to him, cupped your left cheek and kissed the other. It was a polite peck, a sweet gesture that made your heart swell. Your eyes softened at him. With an arch of his brow he wordlessly told you to go before he’d not be able to let go of you again. With a flustered face you left the dining hall, ignoring Gawain’s slight smirk.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

The thunder shook the windows of the castle. Lightning lighted the room every few seconds. You couldn’t sleep and tried to distract yourself by writing in the journal a little. There was no sign of Lancelot yet, which was odd, surely Gawain was not keeping them up the whole night?

The sound of thunder rumbled through the sky, making your heartbeat spike uncomfortably. You couldn’t stand the loud sound anymore and put on your cloak over your chemise to go and search for Lancelot.

Your first destination was the dining hall, it was deserted just like you had expected it to be. But then, where was he?

Minutes went by where you went from door to door, so many of them, and used your nose to try and detect the scent of him. The only sounds were snores, coughs and the thunder. Finally you picked up his scent at a door that was not even far from the room that you had been in. Slowly you opened the door, peeking inside. There, in the corner of the room he sat on the floor, his back against the wall.

“Here you are.” You stepped inside. Your smile fell upon seeing his face when he tilted it up. He had been weeping, you could tell, and he was trying to hide it by turning his head to the side and down a little again.

He sounded like you had caught him committing a crime. “I thought you would be asleep by now.”

Your eyes scanned the room in the little light that that lantern of his gave. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know if you’d come to my room or-”

In the other corner of the room, opposite of him, a crib stood long abandoned. It was a piece of the puzzle you had to solve.

“I will.” he answered quick. Too quick.

He was fidgeting, gently rubbing his hands over each other again and again, trying to sooth a pain not of body but of mind. His eyes were distant as they refused to meet yours.

Slowly you got closer. “I can feel the sorrow in you now. Please, do not feel as if you need to hide it.”

He was quiet for some time, eyes fixed on that cot and yet so much further away. “I often prayed that God would allow me to forget all that I was before I was found by Father Carden. To ease my suffering…”

You stopped beside him, lowering yourself to the ground to sit by his side. Whatever this was, he looked devastated by it.

He kept staring off into the distance, as if viewing a memory of long ago. “His hair shimmered like gold in the sun. That is why my mother placed his crib near the window.” He swallowed hard. “Memories return to me here, small like grains of sand.”

You embraced his arm, leaning your head against it. “Was that Hector’s crib?”

He nodded once and swallowed hard again, slowly rising to his feet he stepped towards the crib. He placed his hands on the edge of the crib, looking at the lone blanket that remained inside of it. A tear escaped his eye, following the path of his mark that ran down his cheek. “I do not want this room to be touched. Not until I decide what will be done with it.”

You went over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder blade. “I am certain the others will understand.”

“Has it been done by blade… or by hand… I find myself asking.” he quietly uttered.

“Lancelot, don’t.”

He picked up the small blanket from the crib, feeling the softness of it in his hands. “Before I came to be in command of the paladins, no child of the Fey was safe. I fear my absence has made them return to their cruelty towards the children.”

He lifted the blanket to his nose, inhaling it’s scent to search for a memory that his other senses could never find.

Dust. Nothing else but dust. He could not speak, his voice could not carry the burden of words and sorrow at the same time. Oh, how he wished he could have smelled the scent of the Ash Folk on that blanket, to have one more memory of his brother.

You felt him tense under your hand. “Lancelot-”

“Go. I beseech you.” He took a sharp breath, voice not louder than a whisper, “Go rest. I will join you after this.”

It was clear he needed a moment for himself, but you feared leaving him alone in the state he was in. Deep down you worried he would still seek out the scourge to drown out the suffering, that a part of him still felt responsible for the death of his infant brother.

After a few seconds, you walked to the door alone. The cracking sound of thunder came down upon the castle like it was inside of it, catching you completely off-guard. A gasp, a barely held back scream, and there you were against the wall from pure fright. It was mortifying to have such a response to just a noise, but you couldn’t help it or explain the reason for the fear it awoke inside. You looked back at him, hoping he somehow hadn’t noticed a thing, unfortunately he was staring back at you. Without saying a word, you pushed yourself away from the wall and went to the door a little quicker, closing it behind you to give him the alone time he needed.

You hurried to your room again, hoping to reach it before more thunder roared above the castle, as if the space could protect you from the heavens at war above your head. Sadly, a thunderbolt struck near the castle and you were back against the wall with your side, trying to calm the irrational fear soaring through your body. You hated how loud it was, you hated how it sounded like the thunder alone could destroy the castle and put you under the rubble. It didn’t make sense, and yet… it did.

"You are afraid of the storm…?”

It had sounded more like a statement than a question, you turned to find Lancelot looking at you a little stunned but mostly concerned, the blanket hanging over his right shoulder. He must have seen you react to the thunderbolt.

You tried to deny it, “No. It just startles me when I hear the thunder.”

He came to a halt right in front of you. “There is nothing to feel embarrassed about. We all fear something.”

You stepped past him, seeing how close you were to your room. “I don’t want to disturb the moment alone that you have asked for. I’ll be fine. Really.”

He hummed doubtful, a slight smirk formed on his lips. “I prefer not to find my wife hiding under the bed out of fear of a storm, so I shall accompany you.”

There was no way that he was not holding back more jests about the matter, it made you glare at him. “Are you truly jesting about this?!”

His smirk broke through fully. “Fear not. I will ensure that you are safe from the storm in our bed.”

‘Our’ bed?… ‘our bed’ … A shared bed… How was it so surprising to hear it be said? It felt official, the first true bed for you and him.

He had seen the small hint of surprise on your face, it had piqued his curiosity. “What is it?”

You hoped he’d understand your scrambled trail of thoughts. “We’re sharing a bed… our bed…”

His smile faltered. “Unless you do not wish for us to do so?”

“I’m just getting used to the idea that… we… I just…” You sighed, taking a second to plan the sentence in your head first. “We are wed. And I thought I had fully processed that fact. But moments like this just still make it feels so new.”

He understood that feeling but all too well. “It is a lot to take in.”

“Yes.” Relief washed over you. “And forgive me, because I am still in awe of the reality that you are my husband.”

“How so?”

“You are a very good looking man.”

His brow arched, a satisfied smug smile curled his lips. “What was it that you called me earlier this night? ‘Exceptionally handsome’?”

You messed with him a little. “You must have misheard me.”

He feigned disappointment. “And here I was, prepared to weather the storm with you.”

“My poor, beautiful, Lancelot.” You grinned and reached up to touch his face.

A touch to his cheek, your thumb tracing his tear-like mark beneath his eye, it was all the incentive he needed to close the little distance there was between you. Your back met the wall, his hand cupped the side of your neck, his forehead and nose brushed against your own.

His breathing deepened, calmed by the close proximity. He cupped your face in his hand, thumb coming to rest on your bottom lip. “You are maddening, toying with my mind…”

You grinned against his thumb. “Would you prefer I feed you honeyed words all the time?”

“No.” He leaned in to brush his lips to your cheek, then lower to your neck. “You are my perfect distraction.”

A distraction he so truly sought to take his mind off of the situation just moments ago. You all but melted into his hold, he moved slow and patient, nipping at your skin. He put his lips to your cheek again, stronger this time, lingering to communicate the emotion behind it.

“I love you.” he whispered with fervor. “I should say it more often, lest it be unclear.”

It was not just a reminder, that you knew, it was him trying not to have regret in the future if something were to happen to one of you.

You pushed him back just a little to glance into those striking eyes. “And I love you. Very much.”

He stole the words from your lips with his own, his form trapping you between him and the wall. A guttural sound came from him, causing your body to shudder.

~“That is disgusting.”~

The blunt statement sounded through the hallway. You broke away from each other, as if it were a crime you had committed. There stood Percival, looking like he had taken a sniff of some rotten fruit.

Another blunt statement came from the boy, “His spit is in your mouth.”

He was saying it like he thought you were not aware of it. And you were so taken aback by it that you felt a pinch of embarrassment. Lancelot reacted far less bothered by it.

“Yes. It is.” He moved not an inch when you smacked his chest to scold him for it. His eyes were set on the boy. “Why are you not in your room at this time?”

Percival swayed on his feet a little in a nervous manner. “Uhm… There’s rain dripping into my room.”

He walked towards the boy. “Then I should inspect it.”

“Can’t I just stay in your room?” the boy quickly asked.

Oh, to you it was clear that the boy did not like the storm either, but Lancelot seemed oblivious. You followed them as they headed to the rain infested room.

At first glance the floor and bed was dry, Lancelot still searched the room for any leaks that could cause the boy discomfort. Percival sheepishly watched on, too proud to admit it had been a white lie to not have to be alone amid the loud storm.

He turned to look at Percival. “Where did you see it rain inside?”

The boy pointed at a random spot in the corner near the foot of the bed, causing the Ash Man to search for it. Poor Percival, he looked more uncomfortable and guilty by the second.

You walked over to Lancelot, taking hold of his elbow to get his attention and whisper the truth of the situation into his ear. Realization set into his eyes and he looked to Percival again.

He feigned a sigh. “It is best you sleep in our room tonight, it is late and I can search for the cause of the leaking tomorrow.”

Percival was quick to nod in approval and filled his arms with his bed linen to take along. For a moment, a flicker in time, he looked like a true child again and not like a young boy forced to grow up to survive a war around him. He needed no directions to find the room you now shared with Lancelot. Lancelot glanced at you, smiling at the sight of the happy child that needed not invitation to crawl into your bed. Lancelot carefully folded the blanket he had taken from the crib and put it down on top of the dresser. A silent look shared between you and Lancelot was all that was needed to know how this would go. The bed was big enough for all three, Percival in the midst and safe from the storm under the sheets.

With a sleeping child between you, you caught Lancelot looking at you and the boy with a content smile. Percival would always have someone watching over him, someone that would put down his own life to protect him. And deep down, the Ash Man must have known that the ones sleeping at his side would do the same for him.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @crystallizedtime @moonlightaura03 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart @5am-cigarette @arcanenature @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream

@coloursforyourportrait @koressecretidentity @nike90 @n1ghtlux @rachlovesactors @luckyzipperscissorsbat @morena-doing-stuff @the-fangirl-diaries @gipsydanger17 @heavenly1927 @phantasmalbeiing @labyrinthonmymind @asarcastic-thiamstan @rainyv-skies @stclairesplace @katjusja @isla-bell-blog @beebeerockknot @sahvlren @lancedoncrimsonwings @weird123abc @elizabeth-holland24 @kissingandromeda @timeshiptraveler

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

#cursed #lancelot x reader #the weeping monk #weeping monk x reader #cursed netflix #weeping monk x you #weeping monk #cursed lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #lancelot

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kindfrog · 11 months ago

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depths of the bayou

[click for better quality]

close up of Alastor-

as well as the line art- while I think it looks better without it, I worked too hard on it for it to not be seen lol

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moe-broey · 1 year ago

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GIRL......................... suspension of disbelief I know but.

Obviously you can pick out a BUNCH of the dragons as that Is an ongoing trope (dragons aging differently than humans, so they can look younger than they "actually are") (also while I did try to avoid including them to make them more comparable to Nino, I think Flayn can fit in either category for the purposes of The Context -- esp cause her dragon blood is meant to be secret)

Not only do we have Heroes skewing younger (a lot fitting into another trope of What If There Was A Baby Sister) we also have Baby Banner. Where the whole point is they are baby.

LIKE....... maybe I'm speaking way too soon and maybe the whole point IS this will backfire LMFAO, but it IS absurd to be presented with her art (which, def still looks youthful!) and having her say yeah I can pass as a kidnapped child. Which COULD be true! But also what do you mean no one is going to know you're a part of the Heroes. Why is no one fighting her on this. Not even including the dragons there are like a handful of Heroes who fit into her exact vibe. Some even MORE baby than her.

#fire emblem #feh #and that's not even factoring in charas like nyx (who's whole thing is she 'looks younger' than she is)#which. tbh. i personally never saw even in fates. like. that's just a short small woman. they do exist.#and adding to that are the other charas who read as short small women to me like celine (before i knew her in-game age is 17)#and eitri #and also youthful charas who are treated as younger yes but also as full fledged adults in their own right. like lissa #(treatment mostly comes from chrom tbh which is understandable LMFAO)#OH and that's not even looking at all the second gen/child units from awakening/fates/other games that include that #which i think is just genealogy and thracia??? i'm not familiar enough w those titles though #also like. in general. a lot of fe charas who have official ages are teens. nino is 15. i think ike was like 16 in por????#which like! still a kid! but also! idk even what the difference is. is it just that ones a sweet looking girl #and the other is a boy who was trained to kill for as long as he's been alive (very lovingly by the rare good dad in fe)#i mean. i guess that makes a difference.#OH MAN I COULD HAVE INCLUDED LYSITHEA INSTEAD OF FLAYN. ALSO fits the bill perfectly #VERONICA WAS 13 WHEN WE MET HER AND SHE HAS ALWAYS BEEN CONSIDERED TO BE A CATEGORY 10 THREAT #SORRY i'm nitpicking like crazy LMFAOOOO but like. the people of askr should not be fazed by anything anymore.#and you would think whoever is causing problems like bandits or what have you. you'd think they'd adapt.#SANAKI. ALSO. WHO IS WHY WE KNOW VERONICA'S AGE ROUGHLY IN THE FIRST PLACE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️#okay i swear i'm done now. good by forevwr 👍#fe nino

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orcelito · 1 year ago

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the weird thing about when someone dies is that they're never truly dead in my head. when i think about my grandpa, my grandma, my uncle, i dont think of them as dead. i think of them as just... gone for a while. some longer than others. i think about my cat sammy and my cat cassy and i feel like i could still look over and see them there beside me. i can see the way sammy would always cuddle right up to me and lay his head on my shoulder. i can see the way cassy would swivel his head at me when he wanted pets.

they're all dead. they're all gone. but i feel like i could see them again, just like old times. all i need to do is give them a call.

#speculation nation #death/#animal death ment/#negative/#i suppose. im not feeling bad exactly. just contemplating the psychological disparity.#even with my cats. i was there when they were put down. i saw them dead. i kissed their cold little heads.#i think about my uncle. how he came into my work unexpectedly a year or two ago. how delighted i was to see a familiar face.#i think of my grandma. the phone calls we would have. how supportive she was of me and my sexuality.#i think of my grandpa. his eccentricities. the way he rambled on and on about history or his own experiences #they are all alive in my mind. but years pass and theyre just Gone. absent from my life. little warning and little preparation.#i knew my grandpa was dying. my grandma was a very unpleasant surprise.#i knew my uncle was dying. but there were only six weeks between the cancer diagnosis and his death. hardly any time at all.#i knew sammy's time was running out. he was 14 years old. he was getting so skinny. and then he was gone.#cassy was a surprise. one week he was his normal attitude filled self. the next week he was dead. not even 2 years old.#for a lot of my life i hadn't known death. not really. i'd never closely known anyone who had died.#but i know now. and the odd thing is that Yes it hurts. but more often it's just strange.#someone can be in your life one day and out the next. and there's no true way to predict it.#hug your loved ones a little closer. i know i have been lately.

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lokissweater · 5 months ago

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DON’T HAVE TO GUESS

{yuta okkotsu x f!reader}

summary: yuta is the greatest boyfriend to ever grace this earth. one problem though? he refuses to touch you out of fear of making you uncomfortable or disrespecting you (no matter how bad he wants it). your pent up sexual frustration is at an all time high and you’re sick of him rejecting your advances, so you devise a plan to get him to crack.

content: MDNI. FILTHY SMUT, smut with plot, established relationship, afab!reader, pet names, references to alcohol and drinking, college party, cursing, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it y’all), dirty talk, FERAL YUTA, oral, creampie, yuta is down bad for you.

word count: 5.8k

author’s note: theming inspired by charli xcx ft. miss billie eilish’s song “guess” !! MWAH.

if you would like to know the origin story of this au, you can read it here! but it can also be read without it :)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

yuta felt like an absolute freak.

ever since you both officially became a couple, he’s been the absolute happiest man alive and never ever goes a day without showering you with affection, kisses, and telling you how much he loves and adores you.

but behind that? yuta has a little secret.

and he is gnawing at the iron bars of his enclosure in absolute torture every time you do something, anything, that can get his little horn dog mind to imagine you in thirty five different positions on his bed crying out for him.

it doesn’t even have to be something you do that remotely resembles anything sexual, so on a day where you were sitting pretty beside him in the passenger seat of his car, the blood rushing to his dick at the sight of the seatbelt strap pushing in between your puffy boobs—

he knew it was bad.

yuta’s shamefully always thought about these things— even when you were both just on best friend status. but it’s harder now, much harder for him to behave because he doesn’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do. he respects you so much and always treats you like pretty porcelain glass, delicately running his hands over your body and soft face when you share a kiss or an embrace.

so now whenever he feels his heart pounding against his chest, face boiling red, and the all too familiar feeling of the lower region of his pants maybe getting a little too tight because of you, he immediately removes himself from the situation to prevent from spazzing out.

the bad thing was— this happened practically every single day and nearly every other hour, to the point where it was blatantly obvious and you were completely and utterly confused as to why.

every time you stand up on your tippy toes to give him a sugary kiss, arms wrapped around his neck and yuta’s arms around your waist, the makeout doesn’t last for more than thirty seconds before he’s pulling apart from your lips with a smack!, walking away with his head down, hands tight at his sides, and with a lame excuse for his abrupt leave.

every time you accidentally drop something and bend over to retrieve it with yuta standing directly behind you— when you come back up and turn your head to face him, he’s already staring back at you with wide eyes, lips pressed into a thin line and cheeks flushed pink. you’d ask then if he was okay, to which he would respond by a quick nod of the head and a dash out of the room to leave for a moment… again.

he did it so much to the point where he eventually avoided touching you all together, and you absolutely hated it. yuta’s always been affectionate with you, he’s never not touched you, and on a day where you swung a leg over his lap to straddle him on his bed, eager to show him a little loving and a smooch— you had just about had it when he placed his hands on your hips as you were trailing your mouth down his neck, physically pulling you off his lap and leaving the room— muttering about god knows what.

until you noticed.

you and yuta were seated on your living room couch watching a movie, the both of you dozing off gingerly as his head was resting against your shoulder, undoubtedly exhausted after a days worth of college classes and homework.

you went to place a sleepy hand on his upper thigh, about to tell him that you both should move upstairs to your room and sleep, but when your fingers accidentally grazed his crotch area, yuta shot up like a light and startled you awake— eyes blown wide and frantic.

“whatareyoudoing—”

“yu! my god—” you placed a hand over your heart, chest heaving. “i was just gonna tell you that we should go up to my room and sleep.”

yuta’s shoulders visibly dropped, and he closed his eyes momentarily before licking his lips, exhaling deeply.

“h-oh my god—“ he opened his eyes again after regulating his breathing and looked at you with worried eyes. “fuck i’m sorry baby… did i scare you?”

you gave him a little nod and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders then, kissing your cheek and the side of your head apologetically. “i’m sorry, i don’t know why i did that.”

but you did, and it was like a switch had gone off in your head, everything finally making sense.

every moment he would suddenly leave, or remove you from him when you tried anything, or every expression and reaction he made when you would wear something tight or short, all fell into place like a delicious puzzle piece.

so when he lead you to bed and cuddled you up innocently to sleep that night, you came up with a plan to test this theory.

you wanted yuta to crack.

unfortunately, your first attempt was a fail.

yuta had plans to take you out on a little summer picnic date by the beach, and when he arrived at your house and you texted him to come in and make himself at home in your room, you were absolutely giddy, fixing your dress and applying the finishing touches to your makeup in the bathroom.

you had slipped on a long, skin tight black spandex dress for the day— one that hugged every inch and crevice of your body like a vice, a mischievous look in your eyes as you ran your fingers through your styled hair before leaving, practically skipping down the hall back to your room.

the minute you came in, yuta’s eyes flew open.

“hi baby!” you greeted sweetly, walking over to where he sat at the edge of your bed and leaned down, planting a soft kiss to his blushing cheek.

score.

“h-hi.”

“do you like it?” you asked eagerly, doing a little twirl for him and mentally making sure to pop your ass out a little more in his direction. “i bought it just yesterday!”

“i.. i do, baby.” he squeaked, voice hoarse and mind in a full blown fucking panic when you took his hands in yours and ushered him to stand.

but he remained stiff as a board, arms glued to his sides and hands in tight fists as he looked at you, face strained.

you playfully rolled your eyes and took his hands, guiding them towards you. “you can touch me, silly. here— feel the spandex-”

and you purposely dropped his hands to land right on your ass with a smack.

yuta immediately inhaled sharply through his nose and choked, his face dropping straight into the crook of your neck to hide his delirious expression. yuta was biting the inside of his cheek so unbelievably hard that he tasted metal, his eyes squeezing shut as nasty thoughts flashed through his mind like a forest fire.

holy shit holy shit holy shit—

“f..feels nice,” he muttered into your neck, and you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning your lips up to his ear.

“does it?”

you felt yuta giving in and slowly squeeze the plump of your ass, and he felt like an absolute fucking monster at the way he was feeling you up when in his eyes, you were just innocently showing him your pretty little long dress.

but just when you thought you had won, your smile wide with delight, he tore away from you and excused himself from the room with a quick kiss to your cheek, leaving you dumbfounded and defeated.

on your second attempt, you refused to accept defeat and planned more diligently than before, his tiny mess up from last time motivating and proving to you that your plan could bear fruit.

this day was particularly scorching, one of the hottest days of the year as you and yuta decided to get ice cream after one of his lectures from a shop down the street, an attempt at cooling off and escaping the heat.

you were sitting on a cute bench under shade just outside the shop as you waited for your boyfriend to come back, nervous and wearing a low cut baby doll top that showed a little more boob than you originally intended, but due to the circumstance at hand… the more the merrier!

after a few minutes, the door to the shop chimed open and yuta stepped out— two vanilla ice cream cones with rainbow sprinkles delectably adorning the pair of soft serves in his hands. he carefully handed one to you and grinned.

“here baby.”

you took a cone from his offering hand gratefully and licked a little off it as he sat down.

“thank you!” you responded sweetly, and it made his heart skip a beat as you both sat there, enjoying the summer heat and each others gentle company.

without yuta noticing though, you had stopped licking your ice cream as he chatted to you about the things he had to do for the coming week, attentively listening to him as you patiently waited— the vanilla soft serve glistening under the heat and slowly melting, droplets oozing off the sides until one landed right on your tit.

score.

“oh!” you gasped, looking down and pouting, “i spilled someee.”

yuta quickly reached to the side and pulled out a napkin he had brought from the shop, extending it out towards you but faltering when you shook your head frantically.

“no! it’ll go to waste! and i can’t reach down and lick it off myself…” you huffed and looked at him with the cutest face he had ever seen you make… you smirking deviously on the inside. “can you lick it off for me, yu? please.”

you had said it so nonchalant, so casual like it was the easiest most normal thing in the world to do, but it had yuta’s body and mind freezing over as you scooted closer to him, waiting.

“h— huh?” he stammered, unable to take his eyes away from your tits, the sight of ice cream drooling down over them an image he wanted to tattoo behind his eyelids to look at forever— his cheeks bright pink.

“hurry! it’s gonna stain my top,” you whined, putting a hand on his shoulder as yuta let you tug him down, him ogling and literally gawking over your chest.

without another thought, yuta stuck his slick tongue out and slowly ran it over the top of your puffy tit just like you had asked him to, the angel on his shoulder screaming at him to stop as his tongue continued to trail up your chest and around your neck, your breath hitching in surprise.

the sound of your reaction broke him out of his trance and he flinched away from you, chest heaving and pupils blown out with the biggest pit of shame in his stomach, feeling like a fucking pervert.

but you, your shoulders evidently deflated in disappointment as you pressed your thighs together, trying to mend the buzzing ache between your legs as your mind thought over and over about what he did, something you didn’t expect at all, and something you wanted him to do again.

“let’s… let’s go for a walk, yeah?” yuta spoke quickly and gently to you, taking your hand that was on his shoulder and pulling you up off the bench, him confused as to why you had a frown on your face.

but for the third and final attempt, you were utterly and hopelessly desperate. every time you guys hung out, yuta was still the absolute sweetest and did everything he could to make you happy, yet he still just wouldn’t touch you, and it was driving you fucking crazy.

you were getting reckless at this point, your pent up sexual frustration sky rocketing with every passing day, but you were completely oblivious to the fact that yuta was dealing with the same form of torture.

except way, way worse.

it’s gotten to the point where just the sound of your sweet sugary voice over the speakers of his phone has him biting down on the edges of his pillow, arms wrapped tightly around himself and his body curled up into a pathetic ball of despair, his dick rock solid and his mind filled with thoughts that consisted of strictly just you.

so when you called him up and asked if he wanted to come with you to one of your girl friend’s parties, yuta knew he was one hundred percent fucked.

he wanted to keep respecting you. he wanted you to know how special you were to him and how serious he was about your relationship with him, and he sure as hell did not want you to feel uncomfortable because he was a horny piece of shit that didn’t know self control and wanted to have sex every five minutes.

except he was a horny piece of shit, has always been one over you, and yuta knew the second he saw you dolled up in your pretty little dress looking absolutely lethal, he was going to lose it.

and he did.

with his arms crossed over his chest and a tight hand over his mouth, he nodded and hummed out a series of “mhm’s” at everything you were saying as you finished up getting ready, his eyebrows pinched together in complete agony at the sight of you.

the pastel green glittery dress you had on was so criminally short that any inch of movement you made, the bottom of your ass cheeks would peak out from below the hem of your dress.

he slightly lowered his hand from his mouth. “baby?”

“yeah?” you responded softly and turned your body to face him, spritzing your vanilla coconut perfume over your frame.

“i-isn’t your dress— a little short?”

you put the perfume bottle down on your vanity desk and looked down, internally giddy that he noticed the length, your plan coming into fruition.

score.

“oh is it?” you tugged at the hem of your dress, scooting it back down. “does it look bad? i—”

“no no!” yuta’s hands shot out frantically as he shook his head. “you’re so so pretty baby, the most gorgeous little thing i’ve ever seen,” he took a few steps toward you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, being mindful of your perfectly styled hair that made him weak in the knees. “i just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable for the rest of the night and not enjoy yourself.”

your heart melted at his words and consideration as you smiled warmly, eyes sparkling up as you gave him a cute peck on the lips and hugged him back, “you’re so nice to me, yu.”

yuta snorted but looked down at you fondly. “that’s the bare minimum baby.”

“so.” you peeled away from him and walked over to the bed to pick up your purse, swinging the strap over your shoulder. “all i do is make you ham sandwiches after your soccer practices.”

yuta laughed loudly, “that’s all you do?”

“yup!”

he nudged your shoulder playfully with his, a grin on his face as he walked down the stairs with you and out the door to his car.

“brat.”

at the party, your plan was to be as devilish and flashy as possible, showing off every curve and angle of your body to your boyfriend in means of getting him to crack, and your ticket there was the length of your dress—

but more specifically?

what you had on underneath.

when you met up with the rest of your friend group that were all residing on the long lounge sofa in the living room like always, you grabbed yuta’s hand and led him over to join the rest of them. he politely greeted each and every one, keeping you close by the hip before you both settled down on the couch.

yuta wasn’t a big party person like you were, but he also didn’t particularly dislike them either. as long as you were there with him, he always ended up getting shit faced and having the time of his life with you and your friends, something that didn’t even happen when he went to parties with his own friends.

your closest girl friend that sat across from you at an angle turned her body, yelling over the music. “have you tried this?!”

she pointed to the red solo cup in her hand, and you shook your head.

“no! what is it?!”

“someone from the frat next door made a mix of malibu and pineapple rum! it’s really good here!-”

she reached over and offered her cup, and as soon as you stood to retrieve it, an idea popped into your head— eyes widening. without another thought, you moved over to stand right in front of yuta before fully and erotically bending and lunging over to reach for the cup.

he stopped breathing. he looked at the way your dress rode up literally half way up your ass and he stopped breathing.

it was so unbelievably high up that he saw the color of your underwear— a lacy black pair with little bows adorned over the sides like a present, slightly see through but enough to see the outline of your lower lips.

yuta clasped a tight hand over his mouth, but as soon as that happened he realized that whatever he was seeing, everybody else was seeing as well. including that stupid moron that had been staring at you since the moment you both got here.

in record time his trembling arms shot out and yuta grabbed the hem of your dress, tugging it back down over your ass as he wrapped an arm around your waist tightly, pulling you back to sit on his lap.

you loved that he did that, but as you sipped the drink and chatted on with your friends, you were entirely unaware of the way yuta’s arms were gripped around your waist like a lock, his forehead resting on your back with his face hidden.

yuta felt like an absolute fucking freak again as the image of your puffy lower lips outlining your lacy panties flicked over and over and over again in his mind without a break. he felt so nasty, so shameful and so hard as he tried with all of his will power to calm his breathing and stop the bouncing of his right knee, eyes screwed tight.

holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck—

he needed you so badly, needed to slip that skimpy dress off of you and bury his face in between your legs, needed to slip his swollen dick out and grope your tits and pump his—

shut up shut up shut up—

at the feeling of his leg bouncing rapidly, you looked back and slightly turned yourself, confused at the sight of his hung head that was refusing to detach from your body and look at you properly.

you placed a gentle hand at the top of his head, the feeling of his silky black hair underneath your fingers. “yu?—”

his head snapped up straightaway, and your eyes widened as you took in the way his chest was heaving and his pupils were blown out, face completely red and his body practically shivering beneath you.

you frowned, “baby? are you okay?”

you shifted once more to assess him better, but his eyes only shot back down to your ass as he felt your dress rise up again.

such pretty bows…

yuta smashed his face in against your side, eyes screwed shut.

calm down calm down calm down—

it was almost completely dark in the frat house, colors of red and blue and green bouncing across the walls of the lower level as people drank and made havoc, your friends all caught up in their own inebriated worlds to realize what was happening between the both of you.

and at the feeling of his hardened cock against your ass, you slowly smiled and finally understood— your hand coming up to stroke his cheek lovingly, the act simple and innocent, until you took his hand from your lap and agonizingly dragged it further up and up and up your thigh…

shit shit shit—

until you guided his shaking fingers to the patch of wet in between your parted thighs, the lace material up against the pads of his—

fuck it.

yuta pushed you off of his lap and stood, snatching your wrist tightly before tugging and dragging you away from the couch and through the mass of people on the dance floor.

“yuta!” you yelled over the music. “where are we going?”

you were so confused, and you worried that maybe you had pushed his buttons a little too far and that now he was upset, and judging by the way he didn’t even turn around or respond when you spoke to him, it looked like that might be the case.

you gnawed at your bottom lip in concern as he led you both up the stairs of the house— you focused on trying to keep your dress from riding completely up and him opening and closing several different doors before he found what he was looking for.

yuta dragged you in the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him, his lips instantly latching onto your cheek, desperate wet open mouthed kisses dropping down to your neck and down to your chest as you gasped.

“m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry—” he repeated like a chant, voice muffled by the way he was sucking on your neck like a little leech, his fingers looping themselves in the straps of your dress before pulling down and revealing your bare tits to him.

you were wholeheartedly gobsmacked at what he was doing and you were loving every single second of it, the way his wild eyes darted over your tits and his wet lips just about drooling over them.

“i’m gonna suck your tits,” his gaze shot back up to you, chest rising and falling. “okay baby?”

a fierce blush spread over your cheeks at his words, mentally cursing yourself for wanting this so bad but feeling bashful at the wrong freaking time.

you barely even nodded before he picked you up by the waist and set you down on the counter of the sink, his wet tongue darting across the plush of your breasts and pressing flat against your nipple, your breath hitching at the feeling.

yuta sucked and nipped feverishly at your nipples, getting them slick and slippery with his spit as he squeezed at your waist desperately, your pretty moans ringing through his ears making his bulge tighten and strain against the buckle of his belt.

he trailed his tongue back up to your neck and groped the fat of your ass with his hands, subconsciously rutting into your covered lips as he whined and groaned over the warmth of your pussy.

“i— i’m gonna cum in my pants if we keep going.” he puffed out, tone constricted as he looked at you with feral half lidded eyes.

you nodded quickly. “but i want you to, yu. inside me.”

yuta’s eyes blew wide open as he shook his head, and you felt the way his hands trembled while he gripped your hips.

“we— we can’t baby,” panting, he unwillingly pulled his bulge slightly apart from your warmth and looked at you sincerely. “i can’t do that to you—“

“do what?” you asked softly, tilting your head to the side. “make love to me?”

“no— well, yes?” he dropped his forehead to rest on your shoulder and placed his hands at the edge of the counter to support his weight, groaning.

“i don’t want you to think i’m taking advantage of you or— or not respecting you and i want you to know how serious i’m taking this relationship and—”

you cupped his cheeks and made him look at you, your voice sweet and soft. “who said that? i don’t think that at all yu, and i know you’re serious about us.. i wouldn’t be sitting on this counter with my tits out if you weren’t.”

yuta laughed as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“you don’t wanna fuck me?” you whispered lewdly.

“trust me i do—”

“you don’t wanna see what kind of panties i have on under?” you pressed an open mouthed kiss to his neck. “you don’t want to maybe guess the color of my underwear?”

“oh i don’t have to guess baby,” he shook his head and grinned. “i know.”

yuta buried his face in your hair and inhaled, “has this been your plan all along pretty? to be a little slut for me and show off what you got going on down there?” he snapped his bulge back on your pussy so roughly that you jolted up by the sheer force. “to get me to fuck you? hm?”

you didn’t respond, you couldn’t respond by the way he was running and groping his hands deliciously all over your body as he spoke nasty to you. all you could do was moan stupidly.

“lucky for you, i’m just as guilty.”

he pulled your straps back over your shoulders then while sliding you off the counter, tugging the hem of your dress down over your ass before opening the door and leading you by the hand outside.

yuta ran through the halls opening and closing doors again, the both of you laughing when you would find other people fucking or making out, until he finally found an open vacant room with a bed and slammed the door closed, locking it.

his lips smashed against yours without another moment wasted, you unzipping and pulling your dress up and over yourself as he yanked his shirt off and threw it fuck knows where.

pushing you down gently on the bed, yuta took a step back to admire your perfect perfect body, the way your tits bounced with every movement you made, and the way that god forsaken lacy black underwear made you look as he just stood there and stared.

you cowered a little under his gaze, legs closing and arms crossing over your chest. “what?”

he shook his head. “i love you… so much.”

you smiled bright then, pearly whites on display as you watched him reach down and fumble with his belt frantically, sliding it off and pushing his pants down before kicking them away and hovering over you until you were both entirely bare.

yuta pressed honeyed wet kisses all the way down your body and in between your legs, shoving his face to your clothed pussy and inhaling your sweet scent, moaning as he did so.

he was so freakishly hard as he licked a long stripe up, the fabric rough and wet under his tongue as you squirmed and whined, impatient and bratty.

“you taste so sweet, baby.” he groaned, pulling your panties to the side and spitting on your clit, his index finger running delicately and slowly over your meaty slimy folds.

“fuck—” you panted, carding your fingers through his hair. “more please—”

“more?” he hummed, watching at the way you shook and shivered with his every touch as he slobbered all over your pussy like a man starved.

it was so filthy, squelching and sloshes of his mean mouth bullying your clit as your fingers flew to grip the sheets beneath you.

“eek!” you squealed, your thighs closing tight around his head as he ate, his hands coming up to force them apart.

“let me eat.”

yuta gripped the fat of your plushy thighs as his sloppy tongue moved across your lips and pussy, coaxing your syrupy cunt to pulse and jump with each lick, a knot forming at the pit of your tummy.

“i— yu, i can’t—” you tried to run away from his mouth. “i’m gonna cum—”

but he only grabbed your hips and brought you back down roughly, his rolling tongue lapping up your juices before your entire body shook with erotic ecstasy, your thighs clamping shut as you squealed and creamed on his tongue.

“fuuuucckkk,” he dragged out, coming back up and sliding your absolutely drenched and ruined panties down your shaking legs, his mouth coated and shiny and covered in you.

yuta pumped his cock a few times, and that’s when you noticed just how big he was, packing a meaty punch that had your mouth watering and desperate.

you spread your legs again as he climbed over you, sliding his dick in between your messy sticky folds before lining his fat tip against your hole.

god, yuta’s body and dick were on fucking fire, his tip slowly nudging and slightly stretching you, a pathetic whine leaving his lips at the feeling of your perfect pussy that was entirely his to fuck, a dream he’s had and yearned over for what feels like an eternity.

“m’gonna put it in,” he choked, licking his lips as he tightly gripped your waist.

you eagerly nodded, spreading your legs even wider. “please, i want you to fill me up, yu.”

and with that, yuta slowly and deliciously stretched your little cunt open, his swollen dick pushing past your tight squeezing gummy walls until he bottomed out.

“f—fuck,” he swallowed thickly. “you gotta loosen up baby you’re milking me—”

your hands gripped at his arms for support as yuta gently pumped his cock, your pussy sucking him up like a yummy lollipop and trapping him inside. “i can’t yu…” you shook your head. “you’re too big—”

his glassy eyes darkened over at your words, and he picked up a brutal pace almost instantly.

“is this— hah— what you wanted?” he reached out and pinched your rosy cheek meanly, pounding into your puffy walls as you cried dumbly. “to fuck you dumb on my dick after teasing me like that downstairs? huh?”

your eyes squeezed shut, loud pornographic moans tumbling out of your throat as he fucked you like he hated you, your tits bouncing with every hit.

a series of pat pat pat’s bounced all over the walls as yuta buried his face into your neck, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he shoved his dick inside of you over and over and over again.

“i can— hah— barely move you’re sucking me, baby.” yuta hiccuped, his eyes welling with feral tears.

it felt good, way too good and he could hardly handle it, his heart racing against his chest as he watched you make slutty faces that only fueled his erotic agony.

he fucked you full into the mattress, setting an animalistic pace as the headboard hit against the wall repeatedly.

“s—slow down, yu!” you whined, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the way his tip hit your cervix without mercy, you on the verge of cumming and creaming all over his dick.

“no—” he shook his head and looked at you, your sweaty hot bodies sticking together. “m’sorry pretty i c—can’t—”

yuta hiccuped and whined and cried at the way your greedy pussy was milking him for all of his worth, his abs tensing at the familiar feeling of his release. the amount of times yuta fisted his cock to the thought of you like a pervert, just like this, spread out and pretty, didn’t even come close or compare to the real thing laying in front of him right now.

“m’gonna pull out, okay?” he muttered. “gonna cum—“

“nuh uh!” you whined, wrapping your thighs tightly around his waist to keep him inside, your arms clutching his brooding shoulders. “i want you to dump it inside of me.”

“i— inside?!” he swallowed.

you nodded and smiled sweetly at him through your fucked out expression and puffy pouty lips, a sight he never ever wanted to forget in his life and keep the privilege of looking at every day, just for him.

yuta groaned again and shoved his face back into your neck, squishing your tits in his hands and holding on to them for dear life as you milked his cock, slamming his hips up to meet yours and you whimpering at how deliciously rough he was.

“mm— fuck!” you squealed as you felt yuta’s hot ropey cum shoot up your walls, bucket loads of it filling you to the brim as you felt your own orgasm wash over you, his hand pressing down against your lower tummy as he hiccuped against your neck.

you both grabbed on to each other as you tried to come down from your highs, your skin sticky and hot as his steamy breath fanned over your ear shakily, the booming of music downstairs shaking the walls a little and the sounds of footsteps walking down the halls filling your ears.

yuta gently peeled himself from you and slowly, delicately— pulled his dick out, his pupils dilating at the sight of his milky cum oozing out of you sluggishly.

his dizzy eyes flickered over to your dazed and tired face, smiling softly. “are you okay baby?”

you closed your eyes as he leaned down and brushed some of your hair away from your eyes, laughing a little. “yeah.”

“wait here—” he whispered before getting off the bed and walking over to what he assumed was the bathroom, retrieving a random towel.

coming back over, he tenderly spread your legs and cleaned you up, rubbing soothing circles into your ankles with his thumbs as he did so before plopping back down on the bed next to you, pulling you softly into his arms.

that was the first time you both had sex together, and as the fact registered into your head, you buried your face into his bare chest shyly.

“hm?” yuta looked down at you. “what, baby?”

“you’ve seen me naked now,” you muttered, voice faintly muffled.

he giggled lowly. “you’ve seen me naked now too.”

“your dick is big,” you leaned back a bit. “i can’t believe you’ve been keeping that thing hostage from me.”

yuta choked at your blunt statement and shook his head. “i’ve always wanted this baby, believe me.” he kissed your forehead and nuzzled his face into your neck. “i just didn’t want to disrespect you pretty so i just didn’t know if you wanted it like i did.”

“but i do—”

he laughed again, “i know you do, now i do.”

you smiled sheepishly as yuta caressed your back with his fingertips lovingly, feeling like he was at the gates of heaven with you in his arms after having shared something so intimate like that for the first time, something he only lived in his sleepy dreams prior to this moment.

“i love you, yu.” you mumbled against his chest, and his heart absolutely melted as he captured your lips in a sweet sweet kiss.

oh how he loved you, and the sight of your gorgeous naked body next to him, your breathtaking unreal face looking at him and only him with those eyes—

was something he wouldn’t trade for the world.

taglist <3: @turtlesaee @heretoreadfics

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tender-rosiey · 4 months ago

Text

from me to you — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this takes place in chapter 268, soo sort of spoilers ahead? also long live gojo satoru; gojo leaves you a letter 🙏

“y/n-sensei, there is a letter for you as well!”

that catches your attention, and you look up at the first years. you tilt your head slightly, and yuuji hands you an envelope.

you gently take it from him, and the first thing you notice is “wifey” written on it then the doodle of satoru with his blindfold on. you feel your throat tighten, and your hands shake slightly.

you let out a small breath then shakily open the letter.

hey, honey!!

it first reads.

I feel like there is still much I didn’t tell you in our last meeting, so here I, your beautiful and handsome husband, am writing them down.

you swallow lightly, and a small smile appears on your face as you imagine satoru saying that, then you continue to the next line.

first, I changed all your computer passwords to variations of “satoruisthebest” at one point. your confusion was so cute!!

you quirk an eyebrow at the admission, but when you rack your brain, you remember that one day when you couldn’t log into your computer.

what you vividly remember was satoru being sat beside you the whole time, and now that you think about it. he was smiling so widely the entire time, letting out small chuckles every now and then. oh, that sneaky man.

“satoru, I am telling you it’s broken!”

“sweetheart, we spent over 2000$ on that. if it broke, then we could easily sue the company,” he chuckled, arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer.

“2 year guaranteed top performance my ass!”

you smile at the memory. it was pretty satoru of him to do that. your eyes then move to continue reading.

second, there are times when I would tell megumi that you would be coming with me, then he would turn and leave me when he found out I was tricking him.

your eyes glance up at said boy who is sat across of you. he made it out alive, despite everything. he suffered so much, but he made it.

it makes you relieved, and you can imagine satoru being bloody proud of him and saying something along the lines of ‘you handed sukuna’s ass to him, very cool!’

no matter how much megumi had frowned and grimaced at satoru’s presence or antics. it rooted itself as something—safe and familiar.

you can’t count on your hands the times when you and satoru would visit the siblings, and nobody really said it, but these meetings did all of you a favor, a chance to kind of wind down. maybe act like death might actually not be looming tomorrow.

it feels like just yesterday when megumi would cling to you when he got really sad or nervous, after so much time spent getting comfortable with each other.

he grew up well, you think, eyes gliding to next.

third, I hid your uniform every two to three weeks, so you have to stay with me.

at that, your eyes widen a bit. satoru’s schedule was pretty packed, but he somehow managed to squeeze time for quality time between you two.

it tugged on your heartstrings, and you made sure he knew how much you appreciated it, not a single space on his face left without a kiss. however, finding out that he went out of his way to make you rest and stay.

satoru’s care really showed in his actions, and you feel like this is the biggest proof of it.

“satoru, have you seen my uniform?”

“nope! maybe, it is a sign to stay home today? you’ve been working so hard, wifey!”

you cupped his face, pulled him down to your height, and kisses his cheek, “you’ve been working harder, ‘toru. let me take off some of the load at least.”

“we could both stay!”

“you’re kidding, right?”

“I already told yaga; I miss you!”

you try to stop the reminiscing further and try to compose yourself before reading the rest.

fourth, I’m the one who kept adjusting the thermostat. I just wanted an excuse to cuddle.

a fond yet melancholy smile appears on your face. you kinda figured that one out. satoru’s favorite pastime was cuddling, so it’s no surprise that he would go out of his way to create the need for it even further.

add to that, once you went to get some green tea and saw him from the corner of your eye teleport to the thermostat, click something, then teleport back to bed.

you figured that the room being chilly that night was not an exception in the middle of july.

“babeeee, it’s so cold! let’s cuddle!”

“maybe the problem is with the thermostat?”

“I checked! I think cuddling is the best solution.”

you giggle as you recall the moment, one of many similar. your heart feels a bit lighter as you go through the letter. something satoru managed to always do even in person.

he would plaster sticky notes, get you trinkets, and even pull pranks on other just to see you smile. feeling more encouraged, you keep on reading the letter.

then you feel your chest constrict so tightly that you might just throw up.

fifth, I am really gonna fucking miss you.

you read the line over again, and you purse your lip in hopes of silencing any noise that may come out as you feel the lump in your throat return, even worse than before. your breathing starts getting more difficult.

your grip on the letter tightens, and you find yourself thinking back to the good times. memories of late nights spent in each other’s arms, thinking about everything and nothing at once.

hushed whispers of confessions and quiet giggles as you reminisced on your highschool days. tight hugs when recalling the sad moments and the departure of a certain someone.

“you know, y/n, I think we might just be made for each other,” he said one night. you hummed and looked him in the eyes.

“three am thoughts?”

“three am admissions,” he grins slightly, “I am made for you, and you’re made for me.”

you remember him pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, while you teased, “and what would you need little old me for, so much that I got made?”

he feigns thinking then closes his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder, “grounding me.”

I love you. I really do, but you should know that already, right?

your eyes drift down to the corner of the paper, and that is when you feel your tears start free-falling. there is drawn a chibi satoru besides a chibi you and between them is a heart.

the chibi satoru is giving yours a big smooch, while she laughs. you never thought that the day your jealousy burns would be because of drawings, and drawings of you and your own husband, nonetheless.

“but wow, gojo-sensei is shit at writing letters,” you hear nobara remark.

megumi responds with a small chuckle, “I am fine with mine.”

“what about you, y/n-sensei?—”

the trio becomes silent as you let out a sob. a watery smile makes its way up your face as you kiss the letter gently and murmur, “so shitty.”

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dawnwriterimagines · 6 months ago

Text

Innocents among you

Part Two to TRAITORS AMONG US

SIMON RILEY X FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 X FEM!READER

Summary: Your torture is over, but is it really? There is only the torment in your mind now. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the flowers at your hospital bed and the tormentors awaiting the relief of your forgiveness.

Part 3!!

Part 4

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

You flatlined twice, almost as soon as you were handed off to the medics.

Committing themselves to doing CPR before bringing in the defibrillator for an electric charge to your sudden cardiac arrest. "Clear!" They restarted your heart just outside the hallway of your cell, Simon held back by Price as your heart stopped again within the same minute and panic ensued. Johnny and Kyle hearing the news, rushing up towards the hall, their footsteps probably the echo that you held onto as your heart rate picked back up.

Clearly, you lived.

You didn't have the luxury of going comatose immediately after. As you would've preferred.

You'd awoken hours after the medical team carried you off to the infirmary. Still on edge, still plagued by discomfort and cold, despite the lights of the recovery facility and the nurses that paraded around you.

Morphine wears off in about 6 hours, so you were up wailing in agony within the same time. Clearly no one expected you up so soon, but you hadn't slept in days, at least not more than an hour. Jerking up involuntarily, hands all over you to keep you down and steady, you could hear a familiar doctor's attempt to calm you down. But, the blistering pain that radiated from every pore in your body was ringing so loud, a present noise that blocked everything out.

So, at first, you'd been terrified, attempting to clutch onto the first thing you'd woken up to. But, you couldn't move, at least not voluntarily.

With the damage to your spine for countless hours, days, and what you had discovered to be two fucking weeks of endless torture, you'd undergone three difference corrective surgeries that would 'possibly' fix the nerve and circulatory damage done to you. It had left you nearly completely immobile since your admission into the infirmary. The doctors were quite astonished that you were even alive...

The nurses were patient enough with your panicked state to slowly ease you out of your stupor. But, at times it wasn't easy, especially when you didn't even know where you were at first. Since you couldn't see...

You were blind for about four days. Everything a tinted red for a few more after you'd regained your sight.

Fevers plagued you for the week, skin that was raw and inflamed from the severe cold and constant dousing from the pipes, you couldn't move if you wanted to.

The first thing you'd been graced to see were the multiple arrangements of flowers, lilies, white tulips, hydrangeas, roses...typical assortments of regret and remorse.

"Can someone throw these away?" had been your first words.

The nurse who had been checking over your vitals looks over at the flowers, the were all over the desk, even on the floor lining the windows, once they ran out of space to put them. It was beautiful. But, she knew why. Everyone knew why. You were quite famous here in the infirmary, as you were in special unit. "Of course."

They were out within the day. The room bare once more.

And then you saw them outside your infirmary window. Just a glimpse. Around the time you were still getting your sight back.

Seeing them for the first time since everything made bile build up in your throat, a screaming fear that created a pulsing headache.

Kyle, Johnny, Price and...you didn't see Simon.

Price was...a statue. Not moving an inch. His hand against his mouth, covering up the aching distress anyone could see on his face.

Kyle was pacing, back and forth and back and forth. Making an offhanded comment at one of them every few seconds.

But, Johnny was talking, pointing spitefully at someone out of your view.

He was there too then. Simon.

Turning away from the window, you couldn't look at them anymore.

"Don't let them in," you breathe out to your doctor as she sets down a trayed mug on your sliding table as she sits you up to drink a hot cup of tea, which you had requested. "Any of them. Please." You were still so cold, you couldn't imagine dealing with any type of cold weather for a while after dealing with this.

She's confused a moment, before turning to the doorway, where she recalled seeing the four men waiting outside in the hallway. She's seen them just sitting there for days now, they wouldn't beg or argue to come in, they'd just wait. It's not like you were cleared for visitors yet anyway.

Every morning she clocked in for the job, there they were. Sitting there like abandoned children, awaiting the moment the door would open to be welcomed inside.

It was like they never left.

Of course she knew who they were to you. Word spreads fast on the base. Especially for a Task Force as 'famous' as they were around here.

Squeezing your shoulder, comfortingly. Feeling protective, your doctor spoke, "Of course," she slides the mug forward a bit, taking the teaspoon to stir once and lift it to toward your lips to sip. "Blow," she guided.

You did. And sipped.

And it was warmer than any blanket they'd wrapped you in.

---

Prior to being able to trudge around on your own, with the help of a crutch you'd been given to go to the bathroom by yourself finally, the nurses had sponged you down in bed. Your spinal surgeries led to you being at risk if they made efforts to remove you from your bed for anything more than a medical emergency.

Mostly, because you're terrified of the showerhead....and it's pathetic, but no one judges you for it as you opt for a sponge bath every time instead. Even if you're shaking as the water slides down your skin even now. The last thing you needed on top of all this was to develop aquaphobia.

Today was the first day you could do it on you own, limping your way to the bathroom with your crutch. The smell of bleach is much stronger in here, it stings your nose.

You stared at the metal stool left tucked at the side, walking around it as if it would pounce up and attack you, you try not to look at it. You'd been doing well without panic attacks for a few days now, just hold it together.

Taking a breath, you reach out to the handle for the spout, glancing up at the showerhead, before back down. Swallowing thickly when you begin to turn it before pausing, hearing the water rush up the pipe to spill out. Turning it back up just as quickly, shutting off the pipe, you inhale deeply, trembling now, hand up to the chilled tile to steady yourself.

You'll try again, you had to.

Drip...

Unable to help yourself, the sudden rush of paranoia that runs through you is terrible, a hoarse cry leaves you. You shove yourself away from the shower stall, back ramming into the doorframe, catching yourself, and away from the showerhead as the water drips, slowly from the faucet.

Drip...

As panic tightened its grip around your chest, your breaths quickly turned to short, sharp gasps. The room spinning, colors blurring into a dizzying whirlwind. You turn swiftly, nearly knocking yourself off your feet as the thudding of your own heart startles you, you can hear it in your ears, in your hands, in your feet.

You press a trembling hand to your chest, clawing over the area, trying to slow the frantic pace of your breathing, but it only seemed to escalate. The small room narrowing to a black hole of fear and suffocation, every gasp began to disorient you, turning lightheaded.

As tears welled in your eyes, you collapse against the side wall, sliding down to the tiled floor. Slamming your palm against your chest, once, twice, as hot tears leave streaks down your bruised face, you beg your lungs to expand and wait for your breathing to regulate.

Beginning to sob uncontrollably as you hit yourself in the chest again and again and again, waiting for the moment you found yourself able to breathe.

Why did this have to happen?

You remember the violent swing of the baton against your face, the sting it leaves afterwards, the immediate spotting of bruises forming. The memory startles you, receding back into yourself, back to that day.

"It wasn't me..." you cried loudly, in the empty room. It echoes against the tiles.

Simon wrapping his hands around your neck, staring you down as he squeezed, maliciously. You couldn't breathe as your lover shook with the strength he uses to hold himself back from taking your life.

"I'm sorry," you hiccupped. "I'm--I'm sorry," you're not sure when you crawled yourself into the corner, the lights of the bathroom flickering off dimly from your lack of movement. As you're drowned in darkness, the water dripping from the spout, the cold tile against your skin, it's too much. You scramble upwards, running out of the bathroom.

The automatic lights flicker back on inside, but you're too in your head to notice.

Stumbling down to your knees as you feel the rip of a ruined stitching tearing along your side. "Ah!" comes your startled cry. Making it to the side of your hospital bed, you fist your hand through your sheets, unable to stand yourself up.

Taking pained breaths against the sterile sheets, you bury your head in them, cursing whatever luck you thought you had in this life.

They were your family...

All you had for so many years...

As your breathing slows to distraught, agonized huffs of air, sniffling to yourself as you catch sight of your face in the metal frame of your hospital bed. The dark purple bruises beneath your eyes as the swelling gradually went down, the still bloodshot left eye of yours, the twelve stitches on the left side of your face. So gruesome you knew it would scar you for life, a permanent reminder on your fucking face.

Anger bubbled up inside you at the sight of it. At the memory that would always follow when you'd look at it.

Anger that you hadn't been able to properly feel until now.

Anger that you feared to have until today.

"Are you alright?" the sound of his voice makes you visible tense.

Simon.

He's here.

You don't turn to face him, if you did, you'd revert back to the person you were cowering into moments ago. "The door was open...I just--" he pauses, swallowing thickly. "Lemme help you up."

Hearing his footsteps suddenly moving closer, you speak fast. "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" you scream over your shoulder, tucking yourself further away from him. "Do NOT move."

He stops in his tracks. You catch the sight of him in the metal framing of the bed, he's a blur in the metal, but you notice his mask is gone, he's Simon Riley now, not Ghost as he appeared to you in the interrogation cell.

"Don't you dare get any closer," you spat.

"I heard you," he spoke, carefully. Mouth opening and closing, before speaking again. "But, you don't have to be stubborn. If you stay there any longer you could tear your stitches."

"Whose fault is that?"

Simon shifts his stance on his feet, waits a second. "I know. And I can never begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did. What we all did to you," he says, quietly. "The intel we discovered...or that was forged, it came from a source we've used a dozen times, (Y/n), we thought it was true. It had to be. We've never been misled before."

"So..." your nails bite into your skin, you make an amused sound, biting down on your lip for a moment, till it hurt. " That's what you came here to say, huh? What you waited days to--. Is this you justifying--"

"No, (y/n), that's not--"

"--why you tortured me, strangled me, stripped me, in that fucking cell, Simon?"

"We had to believe it, at the time..."

"Was I not a trusted source?" you argued. "Had I not proven more than a thousand times that you could trust me? I've fought next to you, laid in your bed, given you my love, my trust, I--" you shook with rage at the time and energy wasted on time family, this relationship, if the end goal was always meant to just be this.. "I thought that was at least half the reason you decided to marry me..." at the mention of your relationship, you could see the way Simon nearly lost his balance, hands coming up to run along his face. "You told me you would kill me in that room..."

"I was just talking, I wouldn't have--" his voice cracks as he whispers, trying to convince.

"When you left, I thought you'd come back to kill me any minute, or Price, to spare you. I waited to die for two days, terrified out of my mind. I wondered about heaven, not if I'd make it... but what it'd be like, what I'd be missing out on," you thought back to your time in that cell, a haunted expression Simon couldn't see. "While you all got a good nights rest, woke up for some bacon and eggs, and listened to the warden tell you that your prisoner was framed...for a crime you'd already punished her for..." you stuttered on your breathing, tears flowing silently.

Simon inhales deeply. "I could never expect you to forgive me. I-I had taken my hurt out on you, I thought you did it, I was so sure. I couldn't hear what you were saying, I just could see the evidence, and I--I'm sorry. I'm sorry, love. I'm truly--" he gets to his knees behind you.

"Get up."

"I can never tell you how sorry I am---"

"Simon."

"I never should've done this to you. If I could ever--" his voice rising with distressed breaths, you didn't have to look at him to see his face a mess of sorrow, tears that would mix into the stubble on his face.

"Simon!"

"--make it up to you. If you could ever find it in your to forgive me, (y/n). I'll spend the rest of my life--" he gets closer, reaching out.

Whipping around, stiffening completely as you feel the graze of his fingers across your skin, "DON'T TOUCH ME!" you shove your back against your bedding, your hand swinging and flying across his face. His head snapping to the side as he pauses, freezing up where he kneels, having completely forgotten your request to stay put. "What's the matter with you! Even now? Even now, you can't just listen to this one thing?!"

"I-I'm sorry..." He looks at you, finally seeing your face clearly and up close since it all happened. Finally he can see the bruises along your face, the blood that fills your eye, the dark bruise still around your neck.

Seeing him. He looks rough. Honestly, he looks terrible. His hair shaggy and falling over his eye. Dark circles with bags under them. Pale, and thinner than he should be.

His jaw clenches with guilt and he averts his eyes, you continue. "How could I forgive you for this?" you stare at him, "I could forgive you, if you hadn't let them chain me up like an animal. If you hadn't watched them drown me for hours, beat me black and blue and left me screaming for days. I could forgive you if you had just believed me even for a moment." you feign thoughtfulness. "How about you look at my face. My wrists. My legs! MY FUCKING SPINE, SIMON!"

"Nothing I can say or do, will ever make any of it ok, I know that. And I can't ask for you to ever forgive--"

"What could I possible owe you in this life, that makes you think I'd even think about forgiving any of you for the things you did to me?" you gritted out, angrily.

Simon's head drops, a slow, shuttering sigh leaves him. "I'll never stop trying to make this right. Never."

"...Get out, Simon."

"I'm sorry."

"Simon."

"I'm so sorry..." he reaches out again.

"Ghost."

He's silent this time, fingers tensing, out in mid air.

"I never wanna see you again."

"I love you, (Y/n)," he confessed, eyes feral and wide. Pulling at the ends of your slip.

"I don't want to hear that, Ghost," kicking away from him. "Stop it."

"I couldn't stop even as it happened--"

"Shut up. And get out," shaking as you sneered at his desperate attempts. "It's over, Ghost."

"And I took it on you. It hurt so much, I couldn't think," Simon's face twisted with agony and remorse. "I'm sorry!"

He was making you lose your goddamn mind, you broke. "GET THE FUCK OUT!" screaming at one another as overwhelming tears escaped your eyes.

---

It's quiet in your hospital room, it's empty now, the door closed this time.

The door knob turns and opens again a moment later. "Oh no, Ms. (L/n)!" luckily it was your assigned nurse, who takes your arm and fixes it around her shoulder before helping haul yourself up to your feet. "What're you doing on the floor? There's a call button for a reason," she scolds as you sit on the edge of your bed.

You're quiet.

Alarmingly so for your nurse, who notices the pulled stitching that creates a line of blood down your side. "If this is about what happened to you..." the nurse started, speaking carefully, pulling a lining of gauze from the side to press to your skin. You don't even wince at the pressure, even when she begins to clean and replace the broken stitch. "Don't let it break you. Not even further than this experience already has..." she says, while through the last stitch and prepping a bandage.

"I've been broken long before this," you whispered, looking towards the afternoon sun shining through your window. "This. This didn't break me, no," you admitted, before glancing up with glossy eyes, rage hidden beneath a profound look of sadness. "It destroyed me."

Her hand pauses at your side, your words startling, turning to see the tear that slips down your cheek. Knowing now how deep your scars were from this, before gently sliding the last of the bandage across your skin. "Do not think you are irreparable. That time can't heal your wounds."

"But, there's always reminders," touching the stitches on your cheek, "some things can't be forgiven."

"I never said to forgive..." the nurse interjected. "If you could, after all this, you're stronger than any woman that could be named."

You snicker at that, humming soundly. "That's an interesting thought. I guess I'm one of the weaker ones then."

"And yet, still the strongest I've ever met," she finishes. Pats your cheek, "click the button next time. Save us both the heart attack."

"Noted," you assured.

As she's prepping to leave for her rounds, you open your mouth, once, twice, before clearing it. "Is it possible, someone could help me out--the water..."

"Of course," the nurse says, quickly. "Don't worry, I understand. I'll get everything set for you."

As she walks away, you breathing out your appreciation, you take a long inhale, swallowing down the heaviness in your chest.

part 3 OUT NOW!!

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