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moosesarecute · 3 days

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The Shadows Mate

A continuation of “The Shadows Sing”

Previous part “The Shadows Heal”

“Please ask him not to tell Azriel,” you asked your shadows to tell Azriel’s. He always let a shadow stay behind with yours and you always had one going with his. “He can’t know any of it.”

“He promises.”

You knew what to do, but you didn’t know how.

It felt like the most important mission of your life.

You were accepting the mating bond. The only problem is that you had no idea what to make him.

You had tried to ask him what he wanted you to do as accepting the bond, besides the food offering of course, but he never answered properly.

“I’m happy with whatever you want to do, lovely.”, “I only need you.”, “you can make me whatever you want when the time comes.”

It annoyed you like crazy. He had been teaching you to be open about what you wanted the last year, and when you ask him he wouldn’t even give a proper answer.

So that’s how you ended up asking for help.

You felt embarrassed by it. He was your mate for cauldrons sake! You should know him better than anyone, but you couldn’t even figure out his favorite food.

While dinner together with Cassian and Nesta wasn’t rare, you had only eaten alone with them a couple times.

Azriel was away for a week long mission, so they kept you company.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Nesta pointed out. “Everything okay?”

“Can you guys help me with something?”

“Anything,” Cassian answered immediately.

You felt unnecessarily nervous as you drew your breath and started to speak.

“I was wondering if you knew what Azriel’s favorite food is.” You hoped they would understand what you meant without you having to tell them.

From her reaction you could tell that Nesta knew exactly what you were insinuating, but Cassian seemed clueless.

“I mean, I guess he likes chicken or fish often with potatoes,” Cassian spoke looking questionably at you.

“I think she meant something a little more special,” Nesta told him.

Cassian spent some time thinking before his eyes widened. A huge smile grew on his face.

“Are you serious?”

You nodded, trying to hold back your excitement, but your shadows gave it away. They were dancing around in happiness.

“I guess you have already tried to ask him what he would want?” Nesta questioned.

“Yes,” you said with a sigh. “He never gave me proper answers.”

“Of course he didn’t, it’s Az we’re talking about.” You felt comforted knowing that Cassian understood your problem. “His favorite food is this casserole his mother makes. He always brings some of it home after visits, but he never shares with anyone.”

You had to hide your smile as you realized he never shared with anyone. Except you. You had tasted the casserole, only a small amount, but it tasted amazing.

“Maybe you could make a casserole, but put your own small twist on it,” Nesta suggested.

“I could, but I don’t have the recipe.”

That’s how you found yourself in Cassian’s arms as he flew you to the River House.

His flying was rougher than Azriel’s, but you didn’t mind. Having the wind move your hair felt amazing either way.

Cassian sat you down on the ground and basically pulled you inside the house.

“Auntie Y/N!” Nyx yelled the second he was you.

Nyx loved you and you loved him back. You and Azriel had quickly become babysitter’s number one, mostly because of your shadows.

However, you weren’t even able to greet the child before Cassian had dragged you past him and into the living room.

Feyre and Rhysand barely managed to look confused at you before Cassian spoke.

“SheisacceptingthebondsoweneedyoutogethertomotherAzrielsoshecangetthecasserolerecipe,” Cassian finished with a deep breath before he continued. “I’m so excited!”

You knew Feyre and Rhysand were communicating mind to mind as they spent some time without answering.

Soon, Feyre picked up Nyx and grabbed Cassian’s hand, leaving the room.

“Cassian seems overjoyed,” Rhysand said. “Sure he’s not the one accepting the bond?”

You let out a nervous laugh. You should be more excited, shouldn’t you? You were doing everything wrong, you should just go home and do something else.

“Hey, hey,” Rhysand’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Just first now realized how your shadows had covered you. “Come here, sit down.”

You did as he said and sat down on the couch beside him.

“You seem stressed. Was Cassian right? About you accepting the bond?”

You nodded carefully.

“That’s great, Y/N! But if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you so worried about? You know he will accept it right? He’s basically wrapped around your finger.”

Your shadows lighted a little.

“I know! I know. That’s not what I’m worried about. I didn’t know what to make him, so I asked Cassian and Nesta and they suggested I make that casserole his mother makes with my own twist, but I need the recipe.”

Rhysand only nodded at you.

“Seems like a good idea. I’m sure his mother would love it and Azriel would be thrilled. We can go now if you want to?”

You landed in front of a cottage in the woods. You had winnowed, so the travel didn’t take long.

The cottage was small with a big garden with both flowers and other plants. On the fence was a small sign where it stood “Rosehall”.

You were too busy staring at the beauty of the garden to realize your shadows thought the same thing you did.

“No, wait!” You tried to hold them back, but they didn’t listen.

They swirled around the entire garden. It was like they were smelling the flowers.

“Pretty!”

“Smells good!”

Unfortunately, their idea of smelling flowers included smashing them to the ground.

“This is not good,” you sighed towards Rhysand, but he only laughed at you.

“Azriel?” A beautiful voice called from inside the cottage. “Is that you? I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

A beautiful female walked out of the cottage and towards the two of you. She wore simple but elegant clothes. But what horrified you was her wings, or wing.

On her back there was a shredded wing and the other one seemed to be gone.

“Not exactly Azriel,” Rhysand replied to her. “But I guess the second best-“

“Y/N!” Azriel’s mother exclaimed at you. She had soon engulfed you in her comforting arms. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

As she pulled away, you understood for sure that this was Azriel’s mother. They didn’t look alike, but her eyes. Her eyes were his eyes. They were just as comforting and bright as Azriel’s.

“I’m sorry about the flowers,” you managed to get out.

She only laughed a motherly laugh. Your shadows danced around her at the sound. Azriel had also gotten his laugh from her.

“It’s fine, lovely. Azriel’s shadows do the same thing and I’ve heard from him that your shadows are even more adventurous.”

You couldn’t help but to smile at the nickname.

She let you go and moved towards Rhysand.

“Hello, dear,” she said as she kissed his cheek. “How are you?”

“Everything’s good. Nyx is practicing flying longer distances so we spend a lot of time in the air.”

“Wonderful! And how’s Cassian and Morrigan?”

“They’re both doing great. Cassian and Nesta are still training more Valkyries and Morrigan is busy leading Hewn City.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’s doing an amazing job!”

The positivity Azriel’s mother gave out was the total opposite of her son. But at the same time, it felt exactly the same.

“But I can’t help to wonder, why are you visiting now? Is all alright with Azriel? I spoke to him last week, and he seemed fine.”

“Don’t worry, he’s fine,” Rhysand looked over to you. “Very fine, if I may add.”

Now also Azriel’s mother looked at you. You couldn’t meet their stares.

“Ehh, I-I’m, I thought I might,” you let out a sigh. “I thought I might accept the mating bond and Cassian suggested that I make him your casserole with my own twist, so I would need the recipe. But if that’s not okay with you, I will of course figure out something else.”

First now you looked up at Azriel’s mother.

She had glossy eyes. She moved slowly towards you and embraced you once more.

“I would love that,” she whispered to you. You almost started crying alongside her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for us to figure out a twist on it together.”

She took your hand and led you towards her cottage.

“I’ve got it under control, Rhysand. Go home to your family.”

You only heard a chuckle and then Rhysand disappeared.

You had spent hours in the kitchen. Making the casserole together with Azriel’s mother was so easy, but doing it alone was something completely different.

“Smells good!”

“It’s not right!”

You needed this to be perfect.

Azriel had done everything for you. He had saved your life when you didn’t even realize you needed saving.

Azriel had helped you learn who you truly were and how you wanted to live your life.

Azriel had learned you to live, had learned you to enjoy living.

However, the most important thing. Azriel had learned you to love.

He gained your trust enough for you to put your entire life, trust and love into him. He had made you comfortable enough to give yourself to him, recently also sexually.

You felt ready to go for the next step and Azriel had made it clear that he did too.

This had to be perfect.

You started lighting the candles and sat the table as you let the casserole simmer a little longer.

Suddenly you felt your heart lighten, your eyes widen and your anxiety to ease.

Strong arms tightened your waist.

“Caldron, I’ve missed you,” Azriel mumbled as he smelled you. “You smell amazing, lovely. I love you.”

You felt his body first tense and then relax even more than before.

“What are you making?” He asked not letting go of your waist.

You moved around in his arms so you could see him clearly. All the anxiety you had previously felt had disappeared.

He loved you, you knew that. First now you had understood that when he said he would have been happy with whatever, he meant it.

You felt a mix of relief, total joy, love and comfort through the bond and you realized he had understood what you were doing.

“I went to your mother and we made a twist to it to make it more like me. I wanted to make you something special. So I asked Cassian and he suggested that I speak to your mother. Rhysand brought me and your mother and I spent an entire day together making the recipe.”

Overwhelming love spread through your body. Almost all of it came from Azriel.

His shadows moved and caressed your face. You leaned into them as you shifted your gaze into Azriel’s hazel eyes.

His eyes were filled with tears and soon they were also running down his cheeks.

You felt him loosen his grip on your waist, but you didn’t let him. Your shadows quickly strapped his arm back around you and dried the tears of his cheeks.

“Love,” they whispered to you. “We love our mate.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer as you leaned in and met your mate’s soft lips. Butterflies spread through your body and you had to giggle at the excitement of it all.

After a while, you moved out of Azriel’s arms and towards the casserole. You got him a serving and handed it to him.

“You should have some too,” he whispered.

He sat down his bowl and found you some food as well.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m the most honored that you chose to spent your life with me. I don’t have words for how happy I am,” he spoke as he handed you your food.

Once more your shadows had to dry tears from his cheeks.

“I’m the happiest fae ever, Azzie. I couldn’t have asked for a better mate and I hope you know that. I love you.”

Now, neither one of you could hold back your tears.

His shadows carefully dried away your tears as your’s dried away his.

You both looked at each other as you raised your forks.

“I’m yours,” you whispered.

“And I’m yours,” he answered.

And then, you both ate the casserole you had prepared.

If the love you felt through the bond had been overwhelming before, you no longer had words to explain what it felt like now.

It felt right.

“Love.”

You stopped admiring Azriel’s beauty and your head snapped towards the shadows that had wrapped around your entire body.

Not your shadows, but Azriel’s.

“Mate, mate, we love mates!”

“Our mates!”

Both you and Azriel had stopped eating.

“I can hear your shadows,” you whispered.

“I can hear yours too.”

Neither one of you could hold back as you moved to kiss each other.

“Finally!”

“Finally, indeed!”

“Azriel, can you even breathe?” Cassian asked him the second the two of you walked into the dining room.

Even though both of you had moved passed the most extreme part of the protectiveness after accepting the mating bond, your shadows had not.

So anytime you were more than a meter away from Azriel, your shadows would engulf him and his would cover you.

And your shadows definitely didn’t like Cassian question their methods of protecting your mate. You felt a pull to your hair.

“Our mate!”

Excuse me, our mate.

Soon Cassian was on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” said said and moved to help him up.

Unfortunately for you, Azriel’s shadows would not at all let you be closer to a male than what you were to Azriel. So they stopped you.

“This is getting out of hand, can you relax a little?” Azriel carefully asked all the shadows.

And suddenly, also Azriel was on the floor.

The ever protecting shadows were also never wrong, Azriel still needed to learn that.

Hope you have enjoyed their story as much as I have! This is the last planned part, but maybe I’ll explore more of their stories another time. Thank you to all that have been reading!

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark @saltedcoffeescotch @rcarbo1 @mrsjna @kitsunetori @thecraziestcrayon @blessthepizzaman @mybestfriendmademe @scatteredstardustt @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @topaz125 @miadialila @ivy-34 @goldenmagnolias @bwormie @animalistic0

Deviders by @cafekitsune

#acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x shadowsinger!reader

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yallthemwitches · 1 day

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Catch the Wind Ch. 16: Doing Wrong

I'm posting this ahead of AO3 because I know it will probably be controversial and I would love some feedback. Look at me gifting scandalous things for my birthday. Very NSFW.

Read the rest of the story here.

James Potter always knew when he had done something wrong. Of course, it never stopped him, but he was well acquainted with the thick rush of cold that fell over his body when he realized he had done something that would irreversibly change a certain aspect of his life. When he realized he had, in short, fucked up.

He first felt it as a child when he decided to play with his dad’s potion ingredients, leaving the house smelling of charred hair and skin for a week. And again, when he and Sirius had followed an unsuspecting Remus one full moon night in second year just to find an adolescent werewolf who didn’t know the difference between friend and food. Most of all, he had definitely felt that way after he had hoisted Snape up by the lake in fifth year, punctuated fully by the look of hatred on Lily’s face.

This time was starting to feel like one of those times.

He trudged after Lily. Her hair swung against her exposed back as she walked and James couldn’t help but let his teenage brain take over a second to remark on how the last time he had looked at her backside, he was leaving kisses down her spine before a final languorous kiss between her legs.

She didn’t turn back to look at him, but he could tell she was tense. It was the way she held her shoulders, straight and higher than normal. He had seen it a million times, both directed at him and not, and even that felt irresistible. He felt the urge to reach for her, kiss her body until the tension shuddered away. At least under the current circumstances, he knew better than to act on impulse.

He attempted to draft some sort of apology in his head that would acquit him of the complete arsehole behavior he had displayed at the party. If he was going to be really honest with himself, and subsequently to her, he knew he couldn’t apologize because there was no part of him that regretted what he had done. He felt bad for embarrassing her, but definitely not sorry.

Maybe if the two of them had talked about the quidditch pitch incident earlier, he wouldn’t have reacted the way he did— but that rang untrue too. He knew going in he would never be able to look at Slughorn or any of the Slytherin team again without those words flashing before his eyes, searing an unimaginable hatred that edged on murderous. Moodblood fucker, Blood Traiter.

Now feeling a shot of pure hatred seep through his bones, he realized that they were lucky he hadn’t done anything worse than ruin the party with a few words. He had never wanted to use dark magic against someone before, not even when it had been used against him with Snape, but fuck if he did now. Perhaps there was where the true problem lay: he was never going to enter this night with any civility.

Lily turned the corner of the dungeon corridor and made for the steps that led back up into the first floor of the castle. He figured she was leading them back to the dorms or Head’s office where she could properly scream at him for his brash behavior. For a split second, the horrible flash of losing Lily over this plagued his thoughts, that he had shown her he was capable of being the same James she hated back in fifth year. If that was true, then he would actually be sorry.

She stopped at the foot of the steps and turned quickly to face him, her chest still as though holding her breath. Her eyes were bright and wide, and even from his distance away from her he knew he had seen that look before but for some reason was having a difficult time placing it. He wondered if he even wanted to place it. Despite it all, she looked absolutely perfect.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then abandoned the action. Even knee deep in shit, he found himself being distracted by her. The deep V in her dress let the curve of her breasts peak out and become accentuated in the firelight of the dungeon torches. Her left leg, exposed from the cut of her dress, calling for him to run his hand over it, just like he had done hours before.

He tried to clear his head, to focus, to get in the game, to feel bad. He pushed to speak again, but she moved to talk and for once he was thankful to be silenced.

“You are going to listen to me, because you have talked too much already tonight.”

She was freakishly still. Her eyes bore into him and once again he struggled to place the emotion behind the gaze. His gut told him the look was similar to that day with Snape at the lake, but even that didn’t fully grasp it. There was something deeper, more primal than he was used to. Despite the growing terror filling his stomach, he knew whatever it was, it was completely unfiltered.

He wanted to close his eyes, brace for impact. He knew what was coming, like all the other times he had ever fucked up. All tragedies must end in a sacrifice, whether that was a death, loss or an act of retribution. The blade was being raised, and it was his neck waiting for the fall.

“I am going to suck you off right here, right now in this hallway until you come.”

It certainly felt like a blow to the head, positive he was suffering from a panic induced hallucination. He watched as she took another step towards him, feeling unstable. Now closer, the look in her eyes was finally taking form. There was anger, sure, but more than that there was hunger. It was the look of an animal about to kill their prey.

She continued, not giving James a moment to cut in.

“I’m going to make you come inside my mouth and then when you have recovered, you are going to fuck me as hard as you ever have–”

Fuck fuck fuck. He definitely heard that correctly. His mind was going fuzzy and the world spun around him. She had hands on him now, pulling at the buttons of his robes,continuing to speak in a plain, composed voice, as she would talking about the weather or patrol schedules.

“---and when you have fucked me until I don’t even know my own name or what year it is anymore, you are going to take me upstairs to your bedroom, and do it again–”

He didn’t know when his shirt had come off, but her hands were now yanking at his belt, ripping at it so hard he half wondered if she would take out a belt loop. “Holy shit, holy merlin, christ, god, whoever.”

“And before you ask, I don’t care if your stupid friends are in there. I don’t care if they stay or go or even fucking join in. You are going to take me in there and pound me into your mattress until even a silencing spell won’t stop the rest of this godforsaken castle from hearing me scream for you.”

James felt like his soul had left his body and he was now watching reality unfold completely severed from himself. He wondered if he had died, if the party had actually gone worse than he thought and killing curses had been thrown. It felt like there was no explanation, no fucking magnificent reasoning as to why Lily had now sunk to her knees in the middle of a very public, very open corridor with his pants unzipped. All it would take was one of the non-slytherin students to go back to their dorms for someone to see them—and maybe that was exactly what she wanted. The thought alone made him want to come before they even started.

“Oh fuck, Oh Evans, Oh Baby.” Lily smiled, but at the use of her surname or the use of the new pet name, he wasn’t completely sure. His eyesight was failing him, now only able to make out the red of her hair and the brilliant green of her eyes that stared up at him while she yanked his pants down further to release him out of his clothes. She curved her flat palm against the base of his cock, and he let out a strangled gasp, surging back into reality.

“I’m going to last five seconds, Evans. Holy shit—I didn’t realize you—I thought—Oh fuck.”

His eyesight came back to him just in time to watch Lily cock an eyebrow. Her lips were pursed with amusement, face just inches away from his weeping head.

“You thought what, baby?” She threw the pet name back at him and it made his cock twitch. “You thought my knickers haven't been completely soaked through since the night began?”

Lily took the hand that was sliding up his leg and snaked it under the slit of her dress. She pulled the fabric back so he could see the tiny strip of lace that she was using as knickers and with no preamble slipped one finger, then another between her legs. She kept her eyes locked on his face as she pulled her now drenched fingers out and raised them to her lips.

“See?” She ran her tongue slowly over her own arousal, taking the fingers into her mouth and making a point to hollow out her cheeks as she sucked. James nearly doubled over. His cock was now leaking significantly, and he knew all it would take was a second of her mouth to make him implode.

“Fuck, Christ fuck Evans—-let me taste.”

“Later. You are listening to me, remember?”

Merlin—-shit.

For a second, James considered knocking her back onto the ground and taking her right there. It wouldn’t have been his first act of disobedience that night. Lily must have seen the look in his eye because she wasted no more time torturing him, grabbing his arse with her still wet hand and pushed his cock fully into her mouth.

The noise James made bounced off the cavernous walls of the corridor. A deep animalistic noise that felt reminiscent of his stag form. She swirled her tongue around his tip, using her hand on his bum to guide him until he grasped what exactly she wanted him to do: thrust into her mouth.

Pushing through the haze, he grasped onto her hair harder than he had ever allowed himself and with her rhythm moved his hips back and forth with the motion of her mouth sliding over him. It felt completely unlawful to feel as good as it did, like some higher being would come down from the heavens to smite him for feeling like this. She kept her eyes locked on his face, watching as his own focused on the movement of his cock entering and exiting her lips. Words spilled out of him completely of their own accord, stringing together a weak commentary of the ecstasy he was feeling inside.

“You are so beautiful. No one has ever made me feel this way and fuck no one ever will—the amount of times I’ve imagined you on your knees like this—and it was shit in comparison to how you look now—”

Lily moaned around his cock, sending a shock through his body. She took one long lick on his tip before removing her mouth for a moment, making James groan from the loss of her warm throat. Her lips were gleaming and swollen in the firelight.

“Come for me baby. Come in my mouth and let me swallow every last drop of you. Come so loud those fucking pricks at the party can hear how good I make you feel, then you can do whatever you want to me because I’m yours.”

What the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

She took him in totality into her mouth again and slid her tongue just under his shaft. His body was trembling, he could feel his climax fast approaching as words continued to tumble out of his mouth. Fuck, just like that, oh baby, oh Lily—-there.

“Come for me, Potter.” She didn’t even remove him from her mouth to say it. She lifted a hand to cup his balls and the world bottomed out. He tried as hard as he could to keep his eyes open, watching her eyes watch him as he let out a deep vibrating sigh that echoed through the corridor down into the dungeons. Legs giving out, he keeled over to balance himself on her.

He spilled into her mouth and he watched as she swallowed without hesitation, using her tongue to lap around him to make sure nothing was missed. When she finally released him, a pleased smile painted on her face, he sank to his knees, taking her tongue immediately in between his teeth.

“Are you fucking joking? How am I supposed to live now, Evans? How am I supposed to do fucking anything now knowing you could be doing that to me.”

He clawed the thigh cut in her dress and she didn’t stop him. He found the sad excuse for knickers as soaked if not more than when she had tasted herself earlier and slipped two fingers into her immediately, making her melt into him. Her whole body folded into his, head finding the crook of his shoulder and biting down.

“Ah--James.” She choked out just before he curled his fingers in the way he knew would make her gasp. “You’ve ruined me, fucking ruined me with your hand alone—-ever since this summer—-.”

He circled his thumb on her clit, making her gasp further into his collarbone. His other hand pushed into the V of her dress, pulling her breast just enough for the soft pink of her tit to escape the fabric. He suctioned himself on it, wrapping his other arm around her waist to keep her stable as he continued to pulse his fingers inside her. She was so wet, more than he thought was possible for a woman to be. It surged his ego. He did that. He did that to her.

“James—baby, christ.” He continued his work in practiced rhythm. The sound of his hand slipping in and out of her was downright pornographic, seeming loud enough for the entire dungeon to hear.

Lily pushed her forehead into the crux of his shoulder, alternating from biting down to babbling affirmations.

“Please James.” She bit back down and he let out a groan.

“Yes baby, beg for me. Beg me to make you come and then I’ll do it again with my cock. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m yours.”

In response, she bucked her hips. Pushing his fingers farther into her. At this point, his hand was nearly soaked. He could feel her tightening around him now, her body aching for release.

“Baby, I’m so close.”

Later, when thinking over that moment, he was shocked he didn’t miss it entirely. A noise, a soft thump of a shoe on stone somehow made it over the endless cries and moans Lily spilled out into his ear. James’ eyes shot up to look past her shoulder, careful to keep his pace inside her.

At first it was hard to concentrate, but as his eyes focused, the silhouette of Snape’s body became more defined in the darkness of the corridor. He stood deadly still, hand outstretched and wand pointing directly at where James still had his own hand working Lily nearly to orgasm.

When he would think back on it the next day, he couldn’t pinpoint why he made the decision he did. Perhaps it was because he had no idea where his wand was, presumably lost in his dress robes which had been torn aside long ago. Or, perhaps it was because, deep down, he knew that Snape wouldn’t do anything. But mostly, and worse of all, he knew it was because he wanted him to see.

In total, it couldn’t have been more than seconds. Snape never moved, hand and wand poised but inactive. His eyes were wide, unblinking. James continued to stare over Lily’s shoulder, miraculously never faltering his tempo inside her as her hips continued to push into him. She moved faster, harder, continuing to beg him for release.

He hated how much he loved that she was falling apart for him and Snape was witnessing it.

He ignored the feeling in his stomach that told him he was doing something wrong and continued to zero in on him, contracting his fingers inside her, knowing exactly what game he was playing at and that he was fucking good at it.

He made sure his eyes were saying everything he couldn’t. Watch me make her come Snivellus. Watch as I do the thing you have only wanked your slimy prick off to in your dreams. Remember how she screams my name and let it haunt you for the rest of your decrepit life.

He wasn’t proud of it, but in the moment, it was the greatest revenge he could imagine.

Lily’s hips bucked against his hand and he could feel her body start to quiver. Keeping his eyes on Snape, he turned his head slightly to brush his lips with her ear.

“Come for me baby. Come on my hand—let me feel it. Then I’ll taste it just like you want. Come Lily, Come.”

Lily reached her arms around him, grabbing at his hair and tugging at the roots. James fought to keep his eyes locked with Snape, but saw no change of expression. Snape might as well have been petrified.

He lightly circled his thumb on her clit then plunged his fingers into her as far as his knuckle. She fell apart.

“Fuck. James James James—-”

The sound of his name awakened something in Snape. His face scrunched into a look of abject horror and he recoiled backwards. A second later, he disappeared back around the corner towards the party from which he came.

If it was wrong, then why did it feel so good.

Lily collapsed in his arms and he allowed himself to fall back into a seat on the ground. He kissed the lingering moans that fell from her mouth and pet her hair which now shrouded her face like a halo.

“Holy Shit.” She pulled away from him and her eyes glowed in the aftermath, lips and cheeks rosy.

James ducked to kiss her, unable to resist before cradling her back into his chest. He knew that letting Snape see them was not going to go unpunished. At that very second, he could be rounding up some of his death eater mates to come and take the action he was unable to do alone. For a second he wondered if Lily had even noticed that they had gotten an audience, but if she did, she didn’t show it.

Instead, Lily began redoubling her efforts. He could feel her hand reaching back for his cock which had easily rebounded after coming inside her mouth. She curled around it and the world started to blink away again. It was so tempting to stay in that corridor and finish what she had originally proposed…

For once that day, he needed to make the correct choice, but he wasn’t going to like it.

“The party is going to be done soon—”

It wasn’t convincing. Even as he said it, Lily stroked him gently, licking at the bite marks she had left on his neck during her orgasm.

“---As much as I’d love, and I mean love, for everyone to know how well I fuck you—”

Lily snorted under her breath. “Arrogant.”

“I think I’d rather get us somewhere more comfortable where I can finally taste you properly without being interrupted–.”

Lily’s hand stalled on his cock. He could practically hear the cogs moving in her head.

“---then after you come in my mouth, only then will I—how did you put it— pound you into my mattress–”

He could hear Lily’s breath becoming shallow again. Admittedly, he wasn’t doing much better, feeling less and less inclined to make it upstairs as he spoke.

“---and will continue to do so until you can barely walk to classes tomorrow.`’

Consider her convinced. In all honesty, he didn’t know how they made it from the dungeons all the way back to the tower. It all seemed a big blur of running and laughing and pushing each other against walls to continue snogging before moving on.

All of the questions of the day took a backseat to the utmost want that completely enveloped them. Even after coming once, Lily was still ravenous for him, making their trip back up to the dorms that much harder. He wondered if she had ever actually been angry at what he had said at the party, or if it had just made her completely randy. He shelved the question for another time.

To his awe, Lily completely kept to her word about the dorms portion of the evening. Without even consulting him on how to proceed, she swung open the door of the marauders room and pulled him to her for a kiss. Peter was the only one there and almost fell off his bed at the sight of them, eyes like globes as Lily pulled James by his shirt towards his bed.

“I have some unfinished business with your mate, Pettigrew, so I suggest you get out or close your curtains.”

Peter didn’t need to be told twice. He scurried out of the room, more like a rat than James had seen him act in human form. He knew he was going to have to answer for it later from the rest of his mates, but the thought was cut short by Lily letting her dress fall to her ankles before Peter had even gotten the door closed.

“Marry me Evans. Either marry me or kill me now.”

Lily walked slowly over to his bed, looking over her shoulder once she reached the bedpost. Her knickers didn’t cover a shred of her bum, practically useless.

“Fuck me first.”

He couldn’t argue with that. He pushed her onto her stomach, not even caring to close the curtains around them. He trusted Peter would make sure the word was out to the rest of the lads.

“How do you want me? Whatever you want, baby, whatever.”

Rather than turning onto her back like they had become so accustomed to, she remained on all fours, looking back at him. For the first time that evening, a wave of timidness crossed her face, flushing her back and cheeks.

“---do you want to try something new?”

Fuck Fuck Fuck He steadied himself on the post of the bed. Even from the back, he could see that she was dripping from earlier. He wasted no time taking off his clothes and joining her on his knees behind her.

“You are so beautiful, fuck it’s embarrassing what you do to me.”

This was new territory for him. Really, all of it was if he was being honest. In the beginning of sixth year, he had dated a Ravenclaw a year older, Maelle Fraser, who had taken his virginity. She had been fun and was the kind of person any bloke would want to experience sex with for the first time, but now being with Lily, the memory of Maelle paled in comparison. Other girls he fooled around with became repetitive, mundane, as though sex was just something in his routine. With Lily, it felt like a miracle each time. He was insatiable, he wanted her all day and night in any way she would let him, much less choose how to take her. When they were together he felt in awe of her, he wanted to worship her, keep her in bed for days on end just to kiss every part of her body and then some. He loved her, and there was no amount of time or way to show that enough.

He couldn’t imagine loving her more than right that moment, with her on her hands and knees begging for him, but he knew tomorrow there would come something else, then something else the day after that that would make him feel just the same—like his love for her was endless and ever shifting.

He put a hand on the small of her back and pushed softly, inviting her to lower her chest to the mattress while her arse stayed up. Cheek pressed into the quilt, she looked at him, eyes blown out and mouth swollen.

“Please,” it came out more as a whisper. The dominant, ravenous Lily that had sucked him off in the hallway earlier was floating away, and the Lily he was more accustomed to was taking over. Not submissive by any stretch, but more prone to coax and beg rather than to tear pleasure from him.

James moved himself back a little bit, grabbing both sides of her ass in his hands and lowered himself to be eye level with her center. It wasn’t hyperbolic, she was dripping. The inside of her thighs sleek with her own arousal.

“You owe me a taste.”

He flicked out his tongue and ran it from the back of her folds to her clit, making sure to dip inside her as he passed. The moan she emitted was a revelation. A sound James knew he would spend the rest of his life chasing as often as possible. Her hands grasped the quilt for support.

“Fuck, James—that feels incredible. Don’t stop.”

He repeated his movement, this time adding slightly more pressure and she answered again with the same moan. The new angle made it harder to reach her clit, but seemed to bring her a new sensation to the rest of her body. With every new cry, his cock ached, threatening to release before he wanted.

“Fuck Lily, I’m sorry, I need to be inside you. I’m not gonna last long as it is.”

Lily just moaned in response. He pulled back, letting Lily readjust herself back up on hands and knees, holding herself onto the headboard. When she looked back at him in anticipation, he could see she was already close to the edge. He needed no further invitation.

Since fifth year he used to fantasize about her exactly like this: in his dorm room naked, screaming his name while he thrusted into her from behind, her body trembling for release. The thought used to make him come so fast in his hand for years—the secret solution for when he needed to make quick work of himself.

It turned out, the reality of it was so much better. The new angle hit a spot inside her that made her shudder almost immediately and she bowed to the feeling, pressing her forehead firmly into the headboard for stability. He was mesmerized by the new vantage point in which he disappeared inside her, the advantage of holding onto her arse and reaching around to touch her clit, feeling her shake from his weight. Still, he was torn by the desire to savor the new sensations her muscles made on his cock or to give her what she wanted: to fuck her hard and fast.

She made the decision for him.

“Harder. Please.”

He couldn’t argue with that. He pushed deeper, feeling her body pulse around him. He sped up with force, now pushing into her with the majority of his strength. He would have worried about hurting her if she wasn’t making the most delicious sounds that had ever been put to auditory frequency. He felt his orgasm mounting with each thrust forward, feeling too much pleasure to care.

“Baby come for me, I need you to come because I can’t hold it much longer.”

But she was already there. She gripped the headboard and threw her head back, hair falling around her shoulders, arching her whole backside. He could feel her whole body tighten around him and the sensation broke him entirely. He released into her fast and hard and she moaned at the feeling of his ejaculation, shaking slightly before collapsing fully onto the mattress. He followed suit, laying himself lightly over half of her body, and their legs curled together, sweaty and spent.

“I love you.” He whispered it into her back, still breathless. He meant it, just like all the other times. She was everything to him at once, loving, fierce, comforting, but an incredible force all the same.

“I’m sorry if I upset you at the party—but maybe I’m not if this was the result.”

Lily chuckled under him.

“I love you too. We can talk about the party later, but first I think you promised me another round.”

He couldn’t believe his luck.

*****

Despite being the most tired he quite possibly had ever been in his life, James had to be the happiest bloke alive. His mates had never come back to the dorm that night, and they had been smart not to. James wasn’t quite the best with time, but he knew that it still had been dark when he took her again with him standing on the side of the bed, then a bit lighter when she had ambushed him out of the loo, leaving them on a heap on the ground in the middle of the room. By the time full sunlight came in through the windows, he was lazily pushing into her while spooning on their sides, sleep fighting its way into their movements.

He almost convinced her to skive off potions for one more cheeky go about before they could finally sleep, but ever the perfect Head Girl, she yanked herself from his arms and slouched herself out the door, looking the definition of well shagged.

“God please at the very least tell me you didn’t shag on my bed—though if you did, we might need to unpack that.”

James grumbled. He had just started to drift off to sleep, wishing he could still feel Lily’s heart beating against him when Sirius had been the first to brave his way into the dorm.

“So I take it Pete told you.”

Sirius snorted. “More like Pete cowered in the common room like he saw a boggart. The poor bloke will probably need therapy after what you and Evans put him through. What did you even do?”

“Everything. Not enough. Never enough.”

“Aw c’mon he didn’t even see anything—.”

“ Evidently, He saw plenty.”

A moment of clarity startled him. In all their romping around, he had almost forgotten. The image of Snape with his wand poised, completely still, surged to the forefront of his mind. That icy feeling of regret started to pour its way down his veins.

Did she know Snape had been there? And if she didn't, how could he tell her? What does one even say in that scenario? Oh darling, by the way, while you were shagging me senseless your disgustingly bigoted ex-mate who has wanted to fuck you since he knew his prick existed watched you come—and I let him, because I wanted to shove it in his face.

Maybe he was still the James Lily had loathed in fifth year.

“Sirius, I messed up.”

“Judging by the way Evans looked walking out of the tower this morning, I’d say you did pretty well for yourself actually.”

James felt a smile twitch on his face, conjuring up the image of Lily that morning. Fuck his thick, egotistical, teenage mind.

He pushed on. “No mate—I, kinda—look you have to promise me you aren’t going to judge me.”

Sirius crossed his arms behind his head, looking more smug than normal.

“Can’t wait.”

“I might have—merlin it sounds so fucked—Snape might have seen Lily and I shagging last night–-and I didn’t stop him…or I guess us—meaning the shagging.”

There was silence.

“Lily doesn’t know— at least I don’t think—she was, er, indisposed.”

Another silence. Sirius brow furrowed. He opened his mouth and closed it multiple times before finally choosing his words.

“What the fuck?”

Sirius was sitting up now. Eyes bright. His face jumped from twitching to laugh to a confused, twisted frown.

“Like because you were…into it?”

A zap of disgust.

“What? No mate, because–,” James felt his voice falter. Time to admit his ego. Time to admit the gross part of him he didn’t want even Sirius to see. “---Because I wanted him to see she was mine. It’s awful I know—”

Sirius burst out laughing. The sound made James' head hurt even more than the fatigue.

“Wow, thank fucking merlin. And here I was feeling jealous that I wasn’t your first choice for a third in your weird kinky shit—.”

James shot up in bed, using all of his energy to glare at his mate.

“What the fuck is wrong with you—god, no—and I thought the truth was bad.”

He expected Sirius to keep laughing, but something sobered him up quicker than was usually his habit. James eyed his mate and could see that something was worming its way inside of Sirius’ usually impenetrable amusement.

“Prongs, joking aside, you know that he wants her right?”

No one had ever put it into words for him before. Of course James knew that Snape fancied Lily. Even if she was oblivious to it, he had caught on early enough to make it one of the sole reasons he loathed him so much. How many years had he watched Lily go to him, be closer to him than he could ever dream…and then what? Turn against her, treat her like dirt just because he wanted to feel power for once in his pathetic little life, thinking even after all that she could still love him.

“Obviously.”

“No, I mean like I think he really wants her.”

James sat up. He couldn’t tell if Sirius was taking the piss out of him or not. If so, it was a serious allegation, even for Snape.

“You are going to need to elaborate for me.”

Sirius sat up as well, now sitting across from James.

“I wish I could—I promised her I wouldn’t.”

A flash of jealousy. Maybe not because Lily and Sirius had secrets between them, but because Sirius was loyal enough to her to keep them. Keep them even from him.

“---Besides, I can’t be certain—honestly I could be just making this shit up—but that bloke is no good around her, mate. Hopefully your little ego boost will make him leave her alone, but something tells me it won’t.”

James didn’t know what to think. His fatigue was making him woozy and he wished he had never even tried to tackle the subject in such a state.Part of him wanted to shake more information out of Sirius, but he knew nothing would come of it. Mostly, he wanted Lily back in his arms, back where he knew she was safe, now worried about whatever waited for her outside his grasp. He had hurt her, she might not know it yet, but he had potentially endangered her for what he had done or not done. That was inexcusable.In the back of his mind, the twist of Snape’s face continued to stare back at him, stare back at them. He started to feel sick.

“Look mate, if you want my advice: Don’t stoop to his level. Just because Snape wants to own her, doesn’t mean you have to.”

Sirius probably didn’t mean for it to come as such a blow as it did, but it hit nonetheless. It was the blade crashing down. His own egotistical, arrogant self coming back to haunt him, haunt the halo of trust he had built around himself and Lily. The person he loved.

The night ending in tragedy after all.

#james potter #jily #lily evans #hp marauders #marauders era #jily fanfiction #sirius black #marauders #Severus Snape #Serious plz would love feedback on this one #its my bday so I'm telling myself its ok there was barely any plot in this one

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iguessitsjustme · 1 year

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Uea’s mom gonna be real mad when Uea stops sending her money

#bed friend #bed friend the series #bed friend bl #also we gotta get his sister out of there #she might not have it as bad as uea #but she is still living in a toxic house with abusers as parents #and it is traumatizing to watch someone you love get abused like that #notice how during that fight she stood on Uea’s side #but she was still holding him #he couldn’t leave because she was holding him there without even realizing it #literally and metaphorically uea can’t leave because she’s there #so she needs to leave #and his mom and stepdad need to live miserable lives #uea has already been paying for his sister or at least that’s the excuse his mother keeps giving for needing money #she needs to leave that place and find somewhere safe not just for uea but for her as well #cause uea can’t ever go back there #he needs to be free

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norrizzandpia · 5 months

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HE WON! LAN WON!

Summary: A long awaited win warrants a shouting Y/n, the proud girlfriend of Lando Norris, 2024 Miami Grand Prix Race Winner. Not only that, but also a smiling Lando now ready for questions about their future.

Warnings: LITERALLY NOTHING EXCEPT A SEXUAL COMMENT AND ME SOBBING IM SO HAPPY FOR THIS MAN I DONT EVEN KNOW (also like a theme of marriage and a comment about having children lol)

Note: i was screaming.

Y/n could feel the sweat drip down her back as her hands shook against her mouth. She had come into this race, along with Lando, assuming there would be a P2 secured for him with the new upgrades, but as the gap between him and Max got larger, it became clear it was his time. His time to let go of that stupid record, the one that had crushed him to hold, of having the most podiums without a race win. Her heart jumped every time he rounded a corner, praying to any kind of higher power to not let a safety car or a jittery move made by him ruin his chances again of winning. She couldn’t stomach the thought of that, he couldn’t either. And by the faces surrounding her in the McLaren Garage, she knew nobody else could.

Everybody held their breath, nerves overwhelming them as their eyes stuck to the screen. Could this be it? Could this be the moment where he took the title as race winner?

It seemed so as he rounded the last corner and his triumph resulted in cheers being heard for miles. Y/n didn’t realize the tears falling from her face until Andrea ran over to her, hugging her and wiping her tears with a laugh.

“HE WON!” She shouted in his face, mascara very likely smudging around her eyes. Andrea nodded at her and hugged her once more before moving on to the engineers behind her. Zak was the second person to find her, screaming with her and high-fiving her when she noticed the glistening in his eyes.

“Are you crying?!” She laughed. Zak shook his head, but wiped away the wetness right under his eye.

She giggled, “I won’t tell anyone.”

He chuckled along with her before the moments dawned on her once more.

She turned around to face the engineers, “HE WON!”

They screamed it back at her as if to try and convince themselves of it, too surreal for their comfort. There was a massive group hug between Y/n and the engineers, all of them having seen just how hard Lando worked for this exact achievement.

“Y/N!” Zak screamed from across the room. When she turned around, she found him aggressively waving his hand, motioning for her to come join him in congratulating Lando.

She squealed before taking off, leaving the man behind quickly.

On her way there, sprinting chaotically, she haphazardly facetimed Cisca, Lando’s mother. When the call went through, their two tear soaked faces met one another and they only began to cry more.

“HE DID IT, CISCA! HE WON! LAN WON!” She screamed, fans and bystanders taking out their phones to videotape the cute moment of loud support from the girlfriend of the newest race winner.

Their cameras caught her flying down the pit lane, screaming into her phone with Cisca over how elated she was for Lando. To add to the charm, the videos captured her tripping and almost face planting on the floor from the sheer pace of her legs. Her cheeks heated up in embarrassment, but she was quick to put it all aside as she pushed through the masses of people, waving her phone around and yelling at everyone to move away because she had the mother of Lando Norris on the phone.

Her body was smashed against the railings as his car came into view and her tears only came falling down harder. Andrea, who was standing off to the side and outside of the barriers, ran over to her, moving the tape up enough for her to come under. She gave him a questioning look, “Aren’t I supposed to stay behind it?”

Andrea shook his head, “Lando would’ve forced you to come out of it anyway. Just be prepared for the trample you’ll get when he gets out of his car.”

She laughed and her head whipped around at the sounds of intense cheering, seeing her boyfriend practically fly out of his car and throw himself into the arms of his team. Cisca laughed at it all on the phone, commenting to Y/n about how chaotic her son had turned out to be.

“Chaotic? I think he’s just clinically insane, hate to say it.” Y/n giggled, shaking her head at the truly concerning things Lando had said to or done with her in the years they’d been together.

“WHERE’S Y/N? DID NOBODY GET HER FROM THE GARAGE? WHAT?” Lando’s body leaned over to one of the engineers, the poor man trying to tell him how close his girlfriend was.

Finally, after a few failing attempts, the man just pointed and yelled, “SHE’S OVER THERE, MATE!”

Lando’s head turned, eyes locking with hers and softening. Andrea quickly took the phone out of her hands, knowing she would want two empty hands to welcome her boyfriend with. And just in time because Lando was sprinting to her, screaming about what he had just done.

“DID YOU SEE, LOVE?! Y/N, I WON A RACE! I’M A RACE WINNER!” His volume was deafening, but the way he crashed into her, holding her body to his as she stumbled back, said more.

It was no secret how in love the two were. Having met four years ago in the paddock, they were inseparable ever since. From the small and subtle touches to the strong statements of adoration and love, there was no fighting or doubting the two would end up sharing the same last name. Y/n had been open in the months leading up to Miami that she had begun manifesting his race win, touching many hearts in the process. Posting pictures of her journal with the sentence “Lando Norris is a Grand Prix Race Winner” written over and over and over again, his mirror with sticky notes in her handwriting with the same eight words. She stopped at nothing. Y/n even took to forcing Lando to make honey jars with her, that specific phrase on a small note inside, so that maybe it would “stick to him”. She was completely uneducated in the world of manifestation and rituals, but she liked to think she was somehow involved in this.

Nonetheless, it all paid off as he reeled back, tears in his eyes, and kissed her sweetly in front of many. His kisses were soft and hasty, drawing back every few seconds to plant another one on her mouth. His arms tightened around her frame and his lips rested against the shell of her ear, “Thank you for everything, baby. I couldn’t have ever done this without you and your spells. I love you so much and there are not enough words to express how grateful I am that you are standing here with me today.”

She grasped his cheeks, pulling him back so their eyes could meet once more, and wiped his cheeks. He did the same to her as she whispered, “This was all you. I hope you never doubt how talented you are ever again because of this, Lan. Everyone is so proud of you, we always have been, but it’s heightened today because you deserve this so much. You deserve a lot of things, this is the start of many.” She brought his face closer to hers, their noses touching, “I am so happy for you, Lan.”

The tears under his eyes pooled around her thumbs at her words and he just shook his head, kissing her again before Cisca’s voice was loading emitting from the phone beside them.

“LANDO NORRIS! YOU ARE A RACE WINNER, HONEY!” She screamed, a slight crack from the speaker.

He blushed, “Thank you, mum. I love you so much. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Adam’s head popped out from the side of the frame, “What about me?!” He said with a smile and Lando only laughed.

The parents riddled off excited murmurs of support and love before Lando was being ushered away.

A slight crease to his forward told Y/n he didn’t want to leave. She squeezed his hand, “Go, Lan. I’ll be with the engineers below while you get your trophy. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure your parents have the best view.”

He shook his head, “I want you to come with me, though.”

She sighed, kissing his cheek, “No, Lan. This is your moment to shine. Go savor it, baby.”

His eyes flickered to the man waiting off to the side, waving his hand as to tell him where he needed to go, and back to his Y/n. The woman he had fallen in love with all that time ago, the woman he had been waiting for his entire life, the woman who had been with him throughout this entire journey, and the woman who he was elated still put up with him long enough to see this moment as the love of his life. He wanted her to share in the victory with him, but the pleading in her eyes told him that wasn’t the right decision. She was right. This was the moment he’d always been waiting for. This was his time to take that top step and cement his presence in it by himself.

Another reason why he loved her so much. She always knew what he wanted even when he didn’t.

Kissing and hugging her again, he ran off.

When he disappeared behind the random door that led him to his podium, Y/n turned to Andrea and Lando’s parents, the ones still on the phone with their smiling faces, they all just looked knowingly at her.

“What?” She giggled.

Cisca was the first to speak, “If there isn’t a ring stuffed away somewhere in you two’s apartment, I’ll be damned.”

—

After the champagne spraying and Lando’s eyes never leaving hers from his high podium, the two were reunited in the McLaren Garage.

His hand slid into hers before leaning his heavy body on her, “I’m so tired. That car was hot as fuck.”

Y/n’s fingers trailed up his back before sinking into his hair, tugging and scratching lightly, “Oh? Tired? That’s a shame.”

Lando let out a confused noise, “Why?”

She turned her head so her lips were close to his ear, “Because I was already planning your post race win celebration. The one in the privacy of our hotel room.”

He choked on the oxygen he was in the midst of inhaling, “I’m not tired anymore.”

“Really? The car was hot, no?” Zak stepped into their conversation, having no idea what he was interrupting.

Lando laughed and Y/n just stuttered, “Yeah, he was just saying it was. I think it’s the adrenaline of winning that’s making him feel awake.”

Zak’s mouth fell open in understanding before he stepped closer and patted Lando on the back, “I’m really proud of you, kid.”

The two shared a quick hug and Lando smiled, “Thank you for all the support you’ve shown me.”

When they parted ways and Lando led Y/n back to his car, he turned to her in the driver’s seat. His eyes bore into hers and didn’t let go as he took her hands, “I have never been as in love with anyone as I am with you and you don’t understand how happy I am you’re here to share in this with me.”

She caressed his cheekbone, “I’m so happy to be here with you too, Lan. You deserve this and so many more wins.”

There was something evident he wanted to say, but it was clear he was hesitant. Y/n could see it. Not wanting to push him, she just smiled and clutched his hand, silently telling him she was safe to confide in, that she would never leave him. Her hand holding was a promise of forever.

Just what Lando needed.

“Promise when I get down on one knee, you’ll say yes?” He whispered.

Her mind took her back to Cisca and Adam and Andrea when they all looked on at her as the future wife of their favorite boy. Her cheeks blushed, “I promise I’ll say yes.”

He exhaled a breath, “Thank God. I have a mental list of all the achievements I want to earn in my life and there’s only one thing left on it.”

She gave him a confused look as he started the car, “What is it?”

He looked at her like it was obvious, “Marrying you. Winning a race was on there,” He smiled, “check. Get into Formula One, check. Meet the woman of my dreams,” A bigger smile, “check. Treat her well,” His eyebrows raised.

She laughed and nodded, “Check.”

He dipped his head down, “Exactly. The last thing on there is to marry her - you.”

“Nothing else?” She asked, toying with his fingers as they rested on her thigh.

He moved his head from side to side, “I assume I will add things to it as we go on in life. Maybe have kids with you, that could be fun. But, for right now, just that. I’d like to bask in the happiness of knowing everything worked out in the end.”

She brought his the back of his hand to her lips and kissed the skin, “It always will, Lan.”

They met eyes as he came to a stop at a light and the comforting color of hers made Lando come to the most beautiful revelation of his life.

As long as she was with him, it truly always would work out.

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hoonatic · 2 months

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emergency contact | park sunghoon x reader

prompt: weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. pairing: non-idol sunghoon x implied female reader genre: angst with hopeful/happy? ending; second chance romance??; exes to lovers??? word count: 2800 note: i’ve had a cute fic idea that i wanted to write forever…but this is not it. the sad demons have visited me once again. hope y’all enjoy nevertheless and any feedback is much appreciated <3

sunghoon was miserable.

it had been three weeks, five days, two hours, and thirty-two minutes since the two of you had gone no contact.

he wished he could say he was happy to be single, that he was no longer “locked down” and “whipped” as his friends had always called him. but the so-called “freedom” felt like hell since it meant losing you.

at first, he kept telling himself that time would heal the pain. “it’s natural,” he had repeated like a mantra, “she was your best friend and lover for years.” but no, this heartbreak was inhumane. his desire to see you, apologize endlessly, and spend days holding you until you could feel every ounce of his love was gnawing at his soul. if anything, it got worse by the minute.

he had tried so hard to balance work and the rest of his life, using the excuse several times that he was securing this future for your shared life with him. that one day, you’d be able to reap the rewards of his efforts and live comfortably together without stress.

but what was the use of all of that now? the future he had worked so hard to create was ripped out from his hands by no one other than himself.

you had accused him of being too busy for you. dates canceled at the last minute, a birthday forgotten, and all the texts left on read had built up to the argument that ended it all. he was always good at fighting, a little too good. he had retorted that you weren’t being supportive, and he was never one to sugarcoat his words. his tongue was sharp, and he did nothing to dull its blade.

but there wasn’t too much yelling on your part, and he thought that that hurt more. he wanted you to fight back, to stand your ground because he knew deep down that he was being the asshole. his toxic thought was that by you fighting back, this meant that you were still fighting for your relationship. but instead, you just stared with silent tears and a blank expression. seeing the indifference in eyes that had previously held so much love was a sight that would stay with him forever. so, in fear of you leaving, he ran instead.

he was a coward, leaving your shared home to run back to the apartment he had still technically owned but hadn’t lived in for more than a year. he locked himself away for a few days, but the realization that you hadn’t attempted to contact him burned more than he could put into words. you were done with him. he had hurt you, had the audacity to be the one to run, and now he had lost you.

he had even run from his job. he couldn’t stand to walk into the same building he stayed in when he forgot dates with you. his coworkers wouldn’t stop asking what happened to him, why he looked so rough. he even found an empty container that had once held lunch you made for him. but his final straw was getting promoted. his first instinct was to call you, but he remembered the sad truth before he could dial. any ounce of pride was washed away with shame in that moment. that same day, he quit without notice.

so there he was: miserable, alone, and unemployed with nothing left to run from but memories. he had spent the last week going through his phone and saving your pictures together in a locked album. he wouldn’t dare delete them, but he couldn’t stomach looking at you either.

he wished he could get drunk and sleep away the pain. he had tried, he definitely did - but that night, he dreamt of you. you were smiling at first, eyes ever full of love. you were speaking, yet he couldn’t hear you. but he could see how your words started to gradually look sadder, and slowly, tears started to fall as your grin dropped. he woke up that next morning crying with the conclusion that he would have to face this heartbreak sober.

but another day of scrolling through albums had stopped abruptly when he saw the notification that changed everything.

SOS i called emergency services from this approximate location after my watch detected a hard fall. you are receiving this message because i have you listed as my emergency contact.

sunghoon had to remind himself to breathe.

he had purchased that watch for you as a “just because” present months ago. you had complained of bad sleep and he wanted you to use it as a way to track your slumber. he hated seeing you tired. he knew that the watch had a fall detection function, but it had never been used before.

his heart was in his stomach as he went to his favorite contacts page and selected your name for the first time in weeks.

“please,” he begged, all notion of running away from you leaving his brain, “pick up please.”

but you just weren’t answering. so he tried again and again and again.

for a moment while the line attempted to connect, he wondered if this was how he had made you feel for months - desperate for a sliver of attention from him. but instead, he was desperate for a sign of life.

finally, after about two minutes of trying to reach you, his body moved of its own accord. before he knew it, his car keys were in his hands and he was out the door.

the car ride there might have been the worst part. the speed at which he drove at almost defied the laws of physics. other drivers were cursing at him but he wasn’t registering anything except the thought of your safety. he just needed to get to you.

why did he run? why didn’t he try to talk it out? if he was so afraid of losing you, why did he do the one thing that would guarantee that? he should have been there like he promised to be from the beginning. you would have been safe with him.

when he pulled up to the house you had shared for so long, he suddenly felt the world slow down. why were emergency services there? you should’ve canceled them by now.

he had to double park as the ambulance was blocking the driveway. why were they here?

the emts and police had arrived at the same time as him, which both increased his anxiety and soothed him. for one, that meant he had been quick enough. but why did you need them?

“sir, do you know–” an officer had approached him as he stumbled to the front door. all he could understand was your name. why were they asking if he knew you? of course he knew you. you, the love of his life. you, his soulmate by every meaning of the word. you were you. and you were safe.

as if sensing his distress, he felt an emt worker pull him to the side as the same officer prepared to break down the door. seeing this, sunghoon finally returned to his senses.

“w-wait! sorry, i have a key.” sunghoon’s hands were shaking. the only way that door had unlocked was by pure muscle memory because he didn’t understand what he was doing at all.

as soon as the door opened, sunghoon tried to step in. finally, he was close to you.

the officer, however, pulled him back.

“sir, you should wait here. we need to make an initial search before you can go in.”

“what, why? if she’s in there, i want to see–”

“sir, it’s just in case we find something we wouldn’t want you to see.”

all of sunghoon’s hesitation and fear went out the window at those words. his body flew automatically as he ran inside.

he screamed your name as he rushed in, ignoring the yells of the police officers who followed him in. as it had been for almost four weeks, his only thought was you. he just needed you.

he checked the ground floor first, eyes scanning the open space in less than a second as his body avoided an officer trying to grab him. sunghoon then moved to the staircase, long legs prepared to skip steps to reach you. then suddenly, he heard the voice his ears had been longing for,

“sunghoon?!”

his head shot up. there you were, finally. he saw the sadness, confusion, and fear all flash your face as you registered the emergency workers behind him. you looked exhausted and unruly, but he had never felt more in love.

he didn’t even remember climbing the steps, but suddenly he was at the top of the staircase and you were in his arms.

you could feel him trembling as he held you. you took his face into your hands to look at him, “sunghoon? what’s wrong? why are you here? is it my parents? is someone hurt?” you watched as his mouth opened but no words came out. after a few seconds, one of the officers spoke from the bottom of the steps,

“ma’am, we received an alert from your device that a hard fall had occurred.”

suddenly, you understood everything. taking sunghoon’s hand gently, you led him down the stairs, afraid he’d fall from shock. he followed you silently, but his grip tightened seemingly with every step.

that’s when you noticed your shattered watch on the third step.

you let sunghoon go and you could hear his deep breath when you did. you picked up the watch and offered it up to the officer as an explanation, “i’m sorry officer, it looks like there’s been a misunderstanding…”

the officer nodded in understanding, and dismissed the emts, “got it, ma’am. we will still need a formal report for our records since this was registered as an emergency call.” he motioned to your couch as he took out a pen and paper.

you reached for sunghoon’s hand once more and led him to sit with you. in the moment, you knew he needed you more than you would ever understand. so, as you explained to the officer, you held his trembling hand, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb.

“i was doing laundry here downstairs and had taken off my watch to prevent it from getting wet,” you recounted, “i put it on top of the basket of clothes that i took upstairs. i remember tripping a little going up the stairs - i didn’t fall, but that must’ve been when the watch fell."

"what about your phone, where is it? i'm sure your boyfriend must've tried to call you."

sunghoon slowly nodded at that, turning to look at you. you smiled sheepishly, "i left it upstairs and it was on silent while i folded the clothes. i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

after finishing up your statement, the remaining officer prepared to leave. as he walked out the door, he gave a soft smile to the both of you,

“glad to see it was a false alarm, ma’am. you had this gentleman quite worried - ran so fast i couldn’t even grab him!” the officer laughed, “you two have a nice day now! sorry about your watch, though!”

after he shut your door, the silence enveloped your home. you closed your eyes and breathed deeply to prepare to speak to your ex-boyfriend. but as soon as you opened them, sunghoon started to cry softly.

he hugged you tighter than he ever had, and soon enough, his face was buried in your neck. his cries were silent, but you could feel his body shaking as his tears soaked your shirt.

“sunghoon…” you started, stroking his back, “i’m sorry i worried you, honey.”

you knew you shouldn’t be calling your ex pet names, especially an ex that had run from you without properly ending the relationship. but your heart still held so much love for him that it flowed out naturally. and you knew he was crying from more than just worry, so you doubt he minded at all in the moment.

his crying slowed down as his arms took to loosely wrapping around your waist instead. he pulled away from your neck to rest his forehead on yours. from this angle, you could see his swollen eyes and red nose - a sight so rare in all the years you had dated. he was never a crier after all.

but memories of several late-night conversations rushed your mind. he always said his number one fear was your death, and now you could see he had never lied about that.

he could see your mind go elsewhere so he called your name softly, “don’t say you’re sorry. i’m so happy, these are relieved tears. and i just really, really missed you.” he croaked out. you knew he had more to say, so you just nodded, letting him go on.

“and i’m sorry, baby. for everything. i shouldn’t have run, i shouldn’t have tried to egg you on to fight me back. i shouldn’t have even fought anything you said that night. you were right. i didn’t prioritize you. in my attempt to secure you for life, i let you go instead. i’m so sorry, i never wanted to break up.” he was rambling in earnest now, afraid that no words would make you take him back.

you listened quietly as he went on for a few minutes after that, hand continuing to rub his back, “i know honey, i know.”

“baby, you need to understand that i almost died thinking you almost died today,” you could’ve laughed at how dramatically he spoke, “i couldn’t breathe right thinking that our last conversation could’ve been an argument. that you wouldn't have ever known just how deeply i love you and need you. i have so much regret for how i treated you, but if you’d give me the chance, i have all the time in the world to make it up to you…let’s go on that vacation i promised you. we can leave tomorrow if you’d like.” he smiled hopefully at you.

“hoon,” his heart soared at the use of his beloved nickname, “what do you mean? don’t you have work? can you really leave with such short notice?”

“i quit my job.”

“excuse me?”

“no job that made me work that much is worth it. i’ll find one with better work-life balance…after our vacation. if that’s what you still want of course…” he spoke more quietly, as if afraid of rejection.

you sighed. you really should be realistic with this - you two had been broken up for a few weeks at that point. you knew the love was still there, but was this a good decision?

while there was still some hesitation on your part, you couldn't help but notice how gingerly he held you. his arms were still around your waist loosely, yet there was something desperate about their hold. you knew he was holding back from hurting you - you could tell how tightly he wanted to hug you.

he was so shaken up at the idea of you being hurt that he rushed over there despite the two of you not being on speaking terms. for someone who had trouble communicating how he felt sometimes, you knew his actions spoke louder than words. he always acted brave, but there was so much he feared. and you knew losing you was always at the top of this list.

you could also feel how he was simply soaking in the sight of your face. his eyes were shy, yet determined. he wasn't going to risk missing another second of staring at you. a part of you grew conscious, but you knew he was just taking in what he had missed for weeks.

“what about…” you started and almost giggled at how he perked up, “we take it slow - another two weeks or so to talk everything out and relax? to get us to a good place again before you hold me hostage in some foreign country?”

sunghoon smiled softly, kissing your forehead. you leaned in naturally to his warmth, to his touch that you missed so much. “that sounds like a great idea, love.” he spoke, “we’ll get you a new watch too. and i’ll do all the itinerary planning and packing whenever you’re ready, okay? i love you.”

“okay. and i love you too. can’t wait to enjoy your unemployment with you for now!”

one smile and nod from you had him taking you into his arms once more, relishing in your being. he was back where he belonged. he had experienced the scariest reminder ever that he needed you, and sunghoon was never letting you go now.

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euthymiya · 3 months

Text

i do (the practice round) — ft. gojo satoru

satoru doesn’t drink often—but when he does, it’s always because there’s something heavy on his mind. you figure out just what it is as you shove a wasted satoru into your car in the middle of the night

before you read: fem reader ; non curse au, suguru never defects ; established relationship ; drunk gojo, mentions of alcohol ; mentions of marriage and proposals ; banter

notes: i am binging jjk season 2 and i think satoru’s bum ass would definitely ruin his own proposal and never even be aware of it

Sometimes, you appreciate Suguru’s company. He makes it tolerable to deal with the handful that is Satoru. With a boyfriend as…eccentric as Satoru is, having someone as a voice of reason keeps you feeling sane sometimes. But sometimes, you also hate Suguru.

Right now, it’s the latter. You wouldn’t consider yourself on the list of his top fans now that he’s left you with a drunk, stumbling, and absolutely difficult Satoru to wrangle into your car and take home.

“Stupid Suguru,” you grumble, “I told him not to let you drink too much.”

Curse Suguru for leaving you for some random woman at the bar, and curse him for letting your lightweight boyfriend drink as much as he has. Satoru doesn’t even drink often—and certainly not this much.

You can’t help but wonder what got him here in the first place.

“Hey,” Satoru snaps, swatting your hand away as you shove his six-plus-foot-figure into the passenger seat, “don’t touch me. My wife will be mad.”

You pause, blinking before looking at him amused.

“You don’t have a wife, Satoru,” you snort. A small part of you thinks he’s an idiot, of course, but another part of you feels a thumping making itself abundantly clear in your ribcage, somewhere deep in your heart.

Wife. You like the sound of that, you think. You walk around the car, entering the driver’s side as Satoru sits and simmers in his despair.

“Don’t rub it in,” he whines, slumping against the dashboard of your car as he groans. “I don’t have a wife yet. Been trying for ages.”

“Trying what—”

“Every time I think v’got the perfect chance, s’ruined by somethin’ or another.”

“What are you talking about—”

He pulls something shiny out, dangerously at risk of dropping it with how wobbly his hands are from the alcohol in his system. You pause. Blink. Stiffen. Sit there in absolute silence as he stares at the ring in his hands woefully.

“Had it for weeks,” he says pitifully. And then, because he’s just as wasted as you suspected, he holds it out to you. You can’t find it in you to move, just staring blankly at it. “Think she’ll like it?”

“Who?” You croak, playing along.

“My girlfriend,” he grumbles. “You’re not very bright.”

“And you’re not very polite,” you snap back half heartedly, ears still ringing from his words just moments ago. Think she’ll like it?

He means you, of course. He doesn’t realize he’s speaking to the very person he’s supposed to present the ring with, but you suppose now you understand just why he’s taken to drinking so much this evening. He must be quite on edge as of late.

“Polite my ass,” he huffs under his breath, pulling you from out of your thoughts.

“You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?” You challenge.

He does. He kisses his girlfriend (you) senseless quite often, in fact. Maybe more than he should…perhaps even at places he should not.

“I do,” he says haughtily. “My girlfriend loves me. She’s obsessed with me, actually. She couldn’t live without me. She kisses me on the mouth all the time. Among other places too.”

You want to slap his shoulder at that last comment—it just about takes you everything not to. “Your girlfriend is crazy for kissing that mouth of yours,” you tease.

Satoru doesn’t appreciate you talking poorly of his girlfriend (you) like that. It’s offensive. You can tell as much from the purely insulted look on his face as he gasps, “don’t speak about my baby like that! This is why you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“I do, actually,” you grin. He doesn’t believe you—the disbelieving snort he lets out instantly would offend you if it was anyone else, maybe. But Satoru pulls a fond, easy smile across your lips.

It feels like muscle memory.

“You have a boyfriend?” He asks incredulously.

“I do,” you grin.

“You love him?”

“I do,” you confirm. He looks unconvinced, but shrugs anyway.

“Is he a loser or something? Dating you?”

“He is,” you grin wider, “a total loser.”

“Makes sense,” he snickers. And then his attention is back to the ring in his hand, his long, nimble fingers fiddling with it before he murmurs, “I hope she likes it.”

“I’m sure she will,” you say softly, biting your lip as your eyes feel just a bit misty.

You mean it, too. He’ll never know that, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“You really think so?” He asks quietly. Shy. Satoru has never been shy—he’s so many things. Loud. Outspoken. Stubborn. Maybe a little shameless. But shy doesn’t usually describe him.

He seems to unlock a few hidden sides of himself around you. You think you want to unlock a few more.

“I do,” you say for the third time that night.

It’s practice, you think, for the real thing.

Imagine revealing on your tenth anniversary “btw i actually knew you were promising weeks before you did it. You showed me the ring and everything.” He’d claw his eyes out lolll

#writing tag #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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yandere-daydreams · 3 months

Text

Title: Negligence.

Pairing: Yan!Geto Suguru x Reader x Yan!Gojo Satoru (JJK).

A Continuation of Nursle.

Word Count: 9.0k.

TW: Dub/Con - Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Unhealthy Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Kidnapping, Mentions of Pregnancy/Childbirth, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Lactation, Geto and Gojo Have Their Own Thing Going On That Is Entirely Separate From The Events of This Fic, and Age Gaps. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part One] [Part Two]

Suguru wouldn’t let you hold Himari.

You’d offered to as he led you out of Suguru’s apartment, reached for her instinctively as he gently urged you into the passenger seat of a familiar black car, but Suguru was in a fugue state – eyes glassy, voice softened and tempered, a glazed smile painted over his lips. He kept Himari pressed against his shoulder, and then, when she started to stir, in his lap, bouncing idly on his knee as he drove. It was dangerous – for Himari and for you. You were tempted to tell him that, to insist on holding the daughter that wasn’t supposed to belong to him, but then you remembered that he was a cult leader and a kidnapper and a murderer and you kept your mouth shut.

Instead, you kept your hands tucked between your thighs and your eyes focused on the passing landscape, on Tokyo as it dwindled from skyscrapers to rustic storefronts to backwoods. You thought of Megumi, first, surprisingly. Even if he didn’t spend the night with Satoru, he’d notice if you weren’t in class, tomorrow. He’d be worried.

You wondered if Nanako and Mimiko had been worried when they suddenly couldn’t find you in Suguru’s bedroom, where you’d spent the days following Himari’s birth recovering, when you stopped appearing at Suguru’s temple with a folder of worksheets and enough candy to keep two girls under ten engaged for a full ninety minutes. You wondered how Suguru explained your absence, if he bothered to explain it at all. You wondered how long they’d hold it against you.

It was getting dark by the time you left the city entirely. With the setting sun to your backs, Suguru slipped onto a deserted seaside road and, still in that gentle tone, broke the silence. “Was it different?” And then, as Himari sniffled, “With him, I mean. Different than it was for us.”

It took you a moment to realize that he was talking, another to recognize that you were supposed to answer. It was less that you were lost in thought and more that you were lost in the absence of it – your mind a vague, cloudy haze of static and fog and every other grey, disembodied, terrible thing that could seep its way into your consciousness and leave you entirely blank, entirely numb. It was all you could do to remember how to open your mouth, let alone piece an intelligent response together. “With Satoru?”

“Satoru,” Suguru repeated, almost disdainfully. “It took you months to call by my given name.”

You couldn’t deny that, although part of you was tempted to try. Because it was true. Because it had.

Because it was different – or, it had been, at least. Things had moved so quickly, with Satoru. He’d gone from a stranger to a stalker to something not totally unlike a partner in a handful of hours, and you’d watched it all from a distance, never fully able to shake that strange sense of liminality. He was rich, and stable, and he’d never suggested that you quit your job or attempted to lock you up in his mansion of an apartment, as trapped as you’d felt. He’d raped you, but you couldn’t say you believed Suguru wouldn’t have, had you not been so terrified of what would happen if you ever tried to remove any part of yourself from his control. You knew, rationally, that they had to be around the same age, that Satoru shared every quirk and every immaturity that’d once made you disgusted to so much consider Suguru in a romantic light, but it was different. When you first met Satoru, you’d seen him as a parent, a provider, a man who wanted to raise your daughter (albeit, with or without your consent). When you first met Suguru, you’d seen him as a boy who fell asleep in temple gardens and pretended not to be as scared as he really was, and if you were being entirely honest with yourself, you’d never really been able to stop seeing him that way.

Suguru clicked his tongue. He still wanted an answer, but it was all you could do to shrug, to let your gaze drift back to the passing landscape. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t think I would’ve wanted to marry him either, if he’d asked me to.”

You heard Suguru shift, the engine rev. He started to say something, but a shrill, ear-piercing, howl of a cry cut him off. You didn’t need to check to know it was Himari, and to know why.

“She’s hungry.” You spoke without thinking, snapping toward your daughter. You’d been on your way to feed her when you found Suguru next to her cradle, meaning she was already more than an hour past due. Himari didn’t cry often, but when she did, it was usually for a good reason. Yet another trait that must’ve come from Suguru – had she taken more closely after you, she might not have done anything but cry.

Something crossed across Suguru’s expression; a flash of irritation, a spark of anger, but nothing more violent, nothing lasting. He cooled back into stoic neutrality as one of his hands fell away from the wheel and to the back of your daughter’s onesie – lifting her out of her lap and depositing her unceremoniously in your arms, his eyes never leaving the road. “Can you take care of it?”

It. You had to dig your teeth into the side of your tongue just to stop from saying something you’d regret, from telling him not to talk about your daughter like some unfeeling, inanimate object, not to talk about her at all. You were in a car with a murderer, and you couldn’t forget that just because of some misplaced, motherly paranoia.

Instead, you looked around for a jacket, a blanket, something to cover yourself with, and when you found the car utterly and entirely barren, you settled for turning away from him and struggling the sleeve of your dress off of your shoulder. You went through the motions mechanically, automatically – cooing and running your fingers through Himari’s soft hair as she latched on, little hands grasping the scrunched fabric of your dress as she practically fed herself. You preferred formula, especially with Satoru breathing down your neck, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

A minute passed in relative silence, Himari’s crying slowly fading back into her usual incoherent, but relatively cheerful babbling. Eventually, her little eyes fluttered shut, and you pulled her away, holding her against your shoulder as she fell asleep. When she’d gone quiet, Suguru glanced toward you out of the corner of his eye. You saw him stiffen, straighten, then felt the car veer off the road and come to an abrupt, jeering stop.

You held Himari that much closer as Suguru let himself out. He took his time – his fingertips brushing over the hood as he made his way to your side of the vehicle, opening your door and nodding to the side. “You can leave her on the seat. I promise, I’ll try to be fast.”

You clung to Himari, who shifted restlessly against you. “You really can’t leave newborns unattended, she might—”

“I’ll be fast.” That smile was back in full force, albeit cast in shadow by the quickly dimming light. “I’ve missed you.”

You didn’t want to, but he was using that tone, again – the one that meant he was already running out of patience. Leaving Himari tucked against the backrest, you let Suguru take your hand and pull you out of your seat. No sooner were you on your feet than the door was slammed shut behind you, then Suguru’s hands were on your waist, pinning you against the side of the car. The heat of the dark metal sapped into your back, your shoulders as Suguru’s mouth found its way to the side of your neck, the crook. “I’ve missed you,” he repeated, his voice airy, edging on desperation. “I thought something happened to you. You were gone, and I couldn’t find her, and I thought someone must’ve taken you, or—”

His voice cut out. He didn’t draw back, but one of his hands fell away from your waist, reappearing on the neckline of your dress. His movements were hasty, rushed, like he couldn’t tear the fabric off of your shoulders and down your chest quickly enough. You weren’t wearing a bra, but even if you had been, you doubt it would’ve been much more of a barrier. A chilled sea breeze washed over your exposed chest as Suguru’s mouth fell from your throat to your collarbone, and then to the curve of your breast, lingering. “Wanted to do this since you got pregnant,” he muttered, as something heavy and spiked dropped from your diaphragm to the pit of your stomach. “Held off for the baby, but she’s had more than enough time with you.”

For a brief moment, every intelligent part of your mind seemed to slow, stall, then stop altogether. You opened your mouth, ready to ask what he meant, but unfortunately, you weren’t given the chance to be so painfully oblivious.

Suguru’s lips latched onto your left nipple, and anything you might’ve said was replaced with a hitched whimper.

He was rougher than he really had to be, than his daughter had ever been. The only thing you could think to compare him to, deservedly, was Satoru; just as forceful, just as loud, just as sickeningly eager. The only difference was his tempo. Satoru had always been too giddy not to rush, eager to steal a kiss before you left for work or wake you up with a hand lodged between your thighs, but Suguru seemed content to act as if he had all the time in the world, as if you were somewhere more private than the shoulder of a public road. The flat of his tongue lulled over your nipple as he drank, his free hand coming up to paw at your other breast in almost meditative patterns. You tried to shut your eyes, to block out the wet sounds of his lips working against your skin, but as routine as it was supposed to be, there was little you could do not to hear an occasional, satisfied grunt, not to feel a certain amount of relief as the pressure you’d learned to ignore began to dissipate. His teeth grazed against your skin, and reflexively, your hand found the back of his head, nails biting into his scalp. Rather than pull away, Suguru seemed to purr – the noise deep and throaty, reverberating against you as he leaned that much closer, as he shifted and you felt something stiff press into your thigh. Don’t think about it, you forced yourself to chant in the back of your mind, trying to remember all the age-old coping mechanisms you’d used when you were with him, all the coping mechanisms you’d forgotten after realizing that they wouldn’t work on someone as unpredictable as Satoru. You couldn’t think about it. You couldn’t put a name to it. You couldn’t acknowledge that sucking on chest was in any way connected to the hard, pulsing cock pressing into your—

But you didn’t have a choice. Suguru gasped, his breath hitching, and then he was drawing away from you, his forehead resting against your collarbone as a hand fell to the waistband of his jeans, freeing his cock – already stiff, already leaking into his palm. “I missed you.” You’d lost track of how many times he’d repeated the same meaningless phrase, but this time, his voice shook, misery seeping out from each fractured syllable. You might’ve felt more pity, but any sympathy you might’ve been able to feel for him was quickly drowned out by the material of your skirt being gathered in handfuls at your waist, his cock finding its way between your plush thighs. His larger body kept yours in place as he rutted against you, his open mouth leaking drool and milk and all the other ungodly things you could imagine onto your chest. It was embarrassing, really – just how tightly you kept your eyes shut, like a child walking through their first haunted house. Like all the bad things in the world would go away just because you couldn’t see them. “For weeks, I couldn’t—I didn’t know where you were, I thought—”

His form jolted against yours. You felt it – a sudden, liquid heat against your thighs, a sudden tension where Suguru’s chest pressed into yours – at the same time you felt the first tear fall, searing your skin where it made contact. There was another, then yet another, before you finally realized what was happening.

Suguru was crying.

Huh.

He’d never done that, before.

Finally, you forced yourself to open your eyes. Rather than attempting to look at Suguru, to see if his shoulders were shaking as violently as it felt like they were, your gaze moved outward, first to the bay, then to the sky – as black as spilled ink, now that the last traces of light had faded. As black as Suguru’s eyes.

You carded your fingers through his hair as he cried silently into your shoulder, never making a sound. Minutes passed before he spoke again, but you let him be the one to break the silence. “I don’t get it.” You hummed, and he went on. “I don’t understand why you didn’t try to leave him, too.”

“I might’ve, eventually. If I’d had more time.”

“But you didn’t.” His blunt nails bit into your waist with enough force to sting, but you didn’t say anything. “I don’t understand why you didn’t.”

You didn’t try to answer.

Suguru stopped at a gas station to clean himself up. You stayed in the car, clutching Himari to your chest, attempting not to flinch as her tiny hands pulled at your hair and grabbed at your skirt – searching for something to do, to entertain herself with. The rest of the drive passed in relative silence. Suguru didn’t try to make conversation, and even if you’d wanted to, you wouldn’t know where to start.

Finally, Suguru turned down an unpaved backroad, and far too soon, you were in front of a house you recognized. The architecture was traditional, the design compact, but you could remember Suguru saying that he and the girls didn’t need much. Later on, when he decided you shouldn’t be allowed to wander any farther than his line of sight during your pregnancy, he’d played with the idea of a larger property – something that could accommodate a growing family. If he’d ever had any real plans, they must’ve been abandoned after you left.

“We’re only stopping by,” Suguru explained, as he moved to step out. You didn’t wait for him this time – shouldering the door open and pulling yourself to your feet before he could decide he needed to drag you out of the car himself. “There’s a nursery attached to the master bedroom. The girls can look after Himari while we’re gone.”

Your breathing hitched, then stopped altogether.

The girls.

You’d managed to forget you’d have to see them, tonight. Suguru would’ve been enough to handle on his own.

You tried to take a step back, more out of reflex than anything, but your legs were unsteady, unreliable. You stumbled, but before you could so much as start to fall, Suguru was by your side, one hand on your arm and the other underneath Himari. He started to say something, but you were faster, louder. “I—I can’t. They’ll be so—I knew you wouldn’t hurt them, but I shouldn’t have—”

“They’ll be just fine.” He wasn’t crying, anymore. Instead, he took on the inflection, the stature he’d worn when you first met him – when he’d been the level-headed priest and you’d been a distraught non-believe desperate for help. If you hadn’t known better, if you couldn’t still see the reddened skin around his eyes, you might’ve called his composure sadistic. “And they’ve been waiting for you all night. Wouldn’t it be cruel to disappoint them now?”

It'd be crueler to make them face the woman who’d married their father and abandoned them without a second thought, but you doubted Suguru would agree. He was already curling his arm around yours, already guiding you towards the rustic villa. Whatever daze was keeping you from losing your mind entirely must’ve worn-off sometime during the drive. It was all you could do to keep yourself on your feet as you edged closer, closer to the front door. You were walking down the unpaved driveway, then standing on the wooden porch, and then, Suguru was ushering you inside – taking Himari out of your arms as you passed over the threshold. You didn’t try to resist. He wouldn’t ask the girls to hurt her, not after how long he’d spent holding the idea of a new, adorably helpless little sister over their heads, and wherever he was going to do to you after this, you didn’t want Himari involved. You didn’t want to give him an excuse to use her against you.

Suguru moved further into the villa, but you froze in the entryway. You could already hear the little, rushing footsteps, already picture the betrayal in their eyes, the questions they’d ask you and the answers you wouldn’t be able to give them. They’d hate you. They had to already hate you. You abandoned them, and they would know you abandoned them, and they would—

Two arms wrapping around your legs, the force of a smaller body crashing into yours. You glanced down and found Mimiko, clinging to your waist, her face buried in the material of your skirt. She wasn’t crying, but you could see her shoulders shaking, feel her nails digging into your thigh through the thin fabric. Reflexively, you reached down, resting a hand on top of her head and moving to nudge her away gently, to see if she needed help, but she only clung to you that much tighter.

Nanako was there, too, but she hadn’t latched onto you. Unlike her sister, she kept her distance, hands ringing the hem of her sweater as she stared pointedly at the floor. “Geto-sama told us what happened,” she explained, while Mimiko mumbled something incoherent and affirmative into your skirt. “He said that sorcerer – the white-haired one – took you and Himari away.” There was a pause, a quick glance in your direction. “He promised he wouldn’t let it happen again.”

Her eyes met yours, and suddenly, her nervous posture, the measured distance left between you and her – it made sense. You recognize the light in her eyes, or rather, the lack therefore.

It was the same shadow her father’s eyes took on, when he looked at you.

Whatever lie he’d told them, Nanako clearly didn’t believe it. Mimiko – sweet and loyal and prone to holding onto the things she loved like there was someone could come and take them away at any time – would’ve believed Suguru if he told her that world ended every time she closed her eyes, but Nanako was more pragmatic. She knew something was wrong. You doubted she would speak to you at all if she knew just how wrong, but still.

Swallowing your guilt, you lowered yourself to one knee and hugged Mimiko properly, squeezing her for one beat, then another, before letting her go entirely. Nanako was next. For all her reservations, she was running towards you as soon as you opened your arms to her, crashing into your chest and clinging to you twice as tightly as her sister had. “I’m sure he won’t,” you mumbled into her hair. And then, pulling back, “I know I was gone for a while, but it’s alright. The sorcerer Geto-sama told you about – he just wanted a little advice. He had two children he was raising all on his own, just like Geto. He heard all about how wonderful you two are, and wanted to know if I could stay and show him how to bring up the best kids in the world.” A kiss on either forehead, a thumb drawn over Mimiko’s cheeks to wipe away the tears she was frantically (and unsuccessfully) attempting to paw away on her own. “But, although I was very flattered, I told him that I had to go home. I knew you two would be fine, of course, but let’s face it – Geto wouldn’t last a day without me.”

It was your turn to pause, now, to lower your voice into something secretive. Mimiko was still sniffling, still determined to keep her face buried in her hands or your shoulder, but you made sure to meet Nanako’s eyes, to sound as sincere as you could – even if complete honesty was beyond you, at the moment. “Don’t tell Geto, but I missed you two most of all.”

Nanako looked like she wanted to say something. She almost did, too – tensing, opening her mouth, but she shut it again just as quickly, her eyes falling back to the ground in a sharp, violently narrow glare.

The pain was instant and beyond words. You wanted to pull her and Mimiko close again, to squeeze them tight and promise you wouldn’t leave them, not again, to apologize when you’d inevitably have to for the sake of a sister you hadn’t given them time to love. You wanted to—

You heard Suguru’s footsteps, felt his hand on your shoulder, and every thought you might’ve had that wasn’t devoted to your daughter’s well-being was gone.

Rather than embracing the girls, you drew back from them. Suguru pulled you gently to your feet, his hand falling from your shoulder to your elbow before wrapping around your wrist. “Keep an eye on your sister.” You could only be thankful there was still an ounce of warmth in his voice, as he addressed the girls. “(Y/n) and I have one more errand to run. We’re trusting you two to look after her, until we come back.”

You might’ve added something, made sure they both knew that you really had missed them, but Suguru was already drawing you towards the door – still ajar. The last thing you saw was Nanako taking Mimiko by the wrist before the door was slammed shut, and you were left entirely alone with Suguru.

Of all the places you expected him to take you, his temple hadn’t made the list.

His followers must’ve been sent away for the night, and the property’s attendants either dismissed or told to stay in their dorms. Every window was dark and shuttered, the gates locked and the doors bared. As you followed Suguru across the desolate courtyard and into the main shrine, you tried to think of places you would’ve wanted to be taken to, but came up empty. Part of you had been expecting the cheap, equally lifeless chain motels he’d shown a fondness for during your pregnancy, or worse, the hotel where you’d spent your first night together. Another, larger, quieter part had been able to imagine him driving into the deepest, darkest forest he could find and having his monstrous spirits tear you to shreds before you could so much as scream.

His ultimate destination was far from shocking, and yet, you still felt your heart drop into your stomach as he led you into his darkened sanctuary. As if in preparation, two tapered candles had been left burning in metal trays on either side of the screen door, and Suguru took one up as he passed by. You were left to linger in the doorway as, with a surprising meticulousness, he lit the candles scattered throughout the sanctuary, casting the open space in an ebbing golden glow. When he was finished, he collapsed onto his raised dais – perched on its edge, rather than laid across it. He almost looked out of place, without his usual costume, his usual posture. He almost looked his age.

You didn’t move. Running seemed impossible, but so did breaking the silence, doing anything to make yourself an active participant in Suguru’s bizarre ritual rather than a passive observer, a prop to be moved from place to place with little thought as to where you might want to be. A moment passed in silence, then another. Finally, he cracked. “Sit down.”

You didn’t move. “Are you going to kill me?”

He didn’t react. “All I asked you to do was sit down, love.”

“Are you going to kill Himari?”

He flinched into himself, going crooked. Something like hurt passed across his expression, as genuine as it was hypocritical.

He didn’t respond, but either out of pity or remorse or a lack of anything else to do, you found yourself closing the gap between you and him, setting yourself down on the edge of his platform. Immediately, his head fell onto your shoulder, his hand to your thigh, as if he was afraid you’d leave him again if he didn’t cling to you. “…I thought about breaking your legs,” he confessed, without prompting. “I was angry, when I realized you hadn’t been taken by force. I thought I’d be able to do it in Satoru’s apartment, leave enough blood to make him think I’d killed you, but—” There was a pause, a slow shake of his head. “I don’t know. I guess I waited too long, lost the nerve or something.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” And then, when he shifted curiously beside you, “It would’ve scared the girls. They’re already having such a hard time.”

At that, Suguru melted entirely against you. There was an airy laugh, a small sigh, and you felt his hand on your hip, his thumb drawing loose patterns into your side. “So considerate,” he muttered, nuzzling into the dip of your shoulder. “Maybe, one day, you’ll care about me like that, too.”

A knot formed in the back of your throat. It wasn’t that you didn’t care for him – or, that you hadn’t, before he made it clear that the ways you were capable of caring for him weren’t enough. If you hadn’t felt anything for him, none of this would’ve ever happened. If he’d been satisfied to let you feel the same way about him that you felt about his daughters, it would never have gotten this bad. If you’d just laid back and let him fuck you the first time he’d asked, he would’ve lost interest in you months ago. You almost said so, too, tensed and opened your mouth and everything, but Suguru was moving before you had the chance to spit something out, his mouth crashing into yours with all the care and all the tenderness of a blunt object shattering bone. His teeth cut into your bottom lip, his body pressing into yours with enough force to throw you off balance, but his arms were already around your waist, keeping you upright. It was less that he slid off of the dais and more that he collapsed – dropping onto his knees at your feet, as little difference as it made in terms of height. He never let you stray very far, but tonight, he seemed determined never to leave more than a hair’s width of space between your body and his. His lips fell from your mouth to your neck, his hands finding their way to your hips. One darted for your neckline, but dropped back to your waist just as suddenly – all ten fingers soon burrowed into the plush of your waist.

“Your dress.” He wasn’t panting, wasn’t grinning, wasn’t laughing. His voice reverberated dully against the base of your throat, his pointed canines scraping over your skin as he spoke. “Take it off.”

You swallowed. Normally, he preferred to undress and re-dress you himself. You’d been scolded more than once for thinking you had any right to decide what you wore without his loving input, and when pressed, he claimed it was a show of love; proof of his dedication, his devotion.

This wasn’t about love, though, or dedication, or any other flowery word he’d ever used with you.

This was about control.

Your hands shook as you raised them to the back of your dress, finding the row of corset-type strings keeping the loose material in place. You fumbled with the knot for seconds, but Suguru was patient, willing to wait until the bodice fell away from your chest entirely, pooling at your midriff. You weren’t wearing a bra (again, an extremely difficult habit not to get into with a newborn at home), and one of Suguru’s hands came up, a scarred palm cupping your breast with enough force to bruise. You remembered, dimly, the time he’d spent pulled over by the side of the road earlier that day, but the memory was foggy, already so far away. You wouldn’t have been surprised if all of this seemed like one hazy, distant dream by tomorrow morning.

He detached from you suddenly, pulling away and kneeling on the sanctuary floor. Rather than relief, you only felt the world distort more violently around you; your pulse slowing and your vision burning as you clumsily pushed yourself to your feet, allowing your dress to fall away entirely. You moved to sit back down, but Suguru caught you before you could – his fist wrapping around your ankle, then skirting upward, settling gingerly against your thigh as his dark, soulless eyes raked over you. His stare caught on your panties, and his expression darkened. “I’m going to kill him.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant. The pair had been Satoru’s pick; not quite a gift, but something given to you, regardless. They matched his aesthetics – needlessly detailed, smothered in lace, cast a shade of light blue so pale, it bordered on ivory. With how expensive Satoru’s tastes tended to run, you were sure the set had cost a fortune, but the priceless fabric gave away without protest as Suguru slipped two fingers under the waistband and tore. The ruined article fell away before you could so much as process that he’d moved.

Suguru’s impressive patience waned quickly. In the same motion, he pushed himself to his feet and took you into his arms, carrying you against his chest onto the dais, then to the altar pressed against the far wall. The scrolls laid across it were sent to floor with a single movement of his arm, and in the blink of an eye, you were laid across the polished wood, Suguru on his knees between your open legs. Your mouth opened, but there was no time to protest, to call out before his face was buried between his thighs, tongue lapping over the length of your slit. Still, you grit your teeth, bracing yourself to sit up, to tell him to—

Oh.

He'd gotten his tongue pierced, sometime after you left.

He was shameless. A rounded, jeweled stud dragged over your pussy, circling your clit with no pattern or pace, no intention other than to taste you. Never content to leave you to your own devices, he kept his hands wrapped around your hips, pinning you to the surface of the altar as he tried to all-but swallow you whole. It was messy, and overzealous, and worst of all, it was good. It was a matter of seconds before a mixture of spit and arousal stained the inside of your thighs and dripped from his chin, less than a full minute before you had to concentrate just to keep yourself from squirming underneath him. Not that it would’ve mattered, if you had. Suguru had always been playful in bed, content to milk reactions out of you with measured precision and careful vigilance, but that had been when you at least attempted to present yourself as willing. Right now, anything you might’ve felt seemed secondary to Suguru’s pleasure; satisfied groans soon joining the slick, wet noise ricocheting off the walls of his sanctuary. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, crossed your arms over your face, but neither distraction helped to stifle the feeling of his lips latching onto your clit, suckling on it with all the care and all the delicacy of a butcher’s knife cutting into lifeless flesh. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes by the time he pulled away, but the pressure was immediately replaced by the bridge of his nose grinding harshly against the bundle of nerves, his tongue slipping past your entrance to curl against the most vulnerable parts of your cunt.

He let out another reverberating moan, and reflexively, your hand shot to the back of his head, your fingers soon tangled in his dark hair. One of his hands fell from your waist, and for a moment, you thought he was moving to pry away yours, that he didn’t want you touching him. But, fortunately or otherwise, his attention wasn’t on you. Instead, he reached for the elastic band holding his hair in place, pulling it out with enough force to snap the cheap plastic. You didn’t realize what he was trying to do until you felt him lean into your palm, his eyes fluttering shut as he melted into the semblance of your touch.

If you’d been capable of feeling anything more towards Suguru than you already did, you might’ve found the sight pitiful.

At the moment, though, you weren’t in a place to be quite so sentimental. It was all you could do to knot his hair around your fingers as you felt tight and hot form in your core, as your thighs threatened to snap shut around his head. You bit into the inside of your check with enough force to draw blood as Suguru moaned shamelessly, as he dragged you that much closer. It was too easy to forget to care whether or not he’d enjoyed it, too reflexive to gather his hair in your first and pull, to buck involuntarily into his mouth, to—

Suguru drew back suddenly, pushing himself to his feet. Thankfully, you caught yourself before you could feel disappointment, and after a few shallow breaths, found the strength to follow his stare away from you and towards the sanctuary door. Instantly, your heart stopped beating, the blood running cold in your veins.

Satoru stood in the doorway, cast in shadow save for his bright, piercing eyes. One of his hands was still wrapped around the doorframe, while the other hung limp at his side, cupping a small, pulsing ball of… light?

You didn’t have time to think about it. Suguru acted swiftly – pulling you into his arms and onto his lap, seating himself on the altar where you’d previously laid. “Drop it,” he said, his tone cold, cutting, not unlike an owner talking to his disobedient pet. He’d been short with you all night, but you couldn’t say he’d ever spoken to you quite like that. “Before you do something you’ll regret.”

The light dimmed before disappearing entirely, but Satoru didn’t move. He didn’t do anything, but you could feel it – a drop in the sanctuary’s temperature, a change in the air pressure, something deep and intrinsic that you didn’t want to be a part of. Reflexively, you tried to stand, to move, but Suguru held you tight, an arm barred over your midriff.

Despite everything, Satoru was the first to break the silence, albeit without doing anything to make that intangible tension any more bearable. “I should kill you.”

“You should.” Suguru’s fingertips dug into your side. “Those are your orders, aren’t they? Or are you going to put off delivering my head to the higher-ups for another three years?”

Whatever he was talking about, Satoru didn’t seem interested in acknowledging it. “You took my girls.”

“You fucked my wife.”

At that, something seemed to break. Suguru’s chest pressed into your back as Satoru’s eyes shut, as he sucked in a harsh breath and broke out into a fanged grin, the sharpest you’d ever seen him wear. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He took a step forward, all hostility gone in favor of a sort of manic, unpredictable buzz. You didn’t know whether to be relieved that there was a slightly diminished chance you’d be caught in the middle of their fight to the death or terrified at the thought that they might want to do anything but tear out each others’ throats. “I fucked her after she left you. Bet you can’t stand it – knowing you’re not the only one who gets to run away.”

Suguru, for all his faults, didn’t flinch. He’d always had an even-temper at the worst of time. “What do you want, ‘toru?”

Satoru’s stare fell away from Suguru and onto you. His expression softened, taking on an almost apologetic lilt. Almost, but not quite.

“Not much,” he admitted, with a shrug. Even from a distance, even in the dark, you could tell his nonchalance was forced. “Just to say goodbye, make sure my pretty girl’s gonna be taken care of. Gotta wrap up loose ends, n’ all that.”

Suguru, for his part, seemed far from convinced. His grip didn’t loosen; if anything, he only held you closer. “And why should I let you?”

“Because I love her?” And then, with another step toward the altar, “Because you know I could wipe this building off the face of the planet, if I wanted to.”

Pragmatic as he was, Suguru seemed to consider it. The hand over your side flexed, a chin settling against the dip of your shoulder, and beneath you, his stiff cock pressed into your ass – either unaffected or worse, fueled on by Satoru’s interruption. You were still attempting not to dwell on the implications when Suguru responded, level-headed as always.

“If you try anything, I’ll kill the baby.”

The second before a car crash, the spark where two wires failed to connect. For the longest time, you couldn’t seem to process what he’d said or how it could’ve been so gut-wrenchingly terrible. Rather than pull away, you flattened yourself against him, glancing over your shoulder. You opened your mouth, but the ability to speak was suddenly beyond you, set deliberately out of your reach. He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it, and yet, his expression was stoic, unchanging, the pinnacle of neutrality. There was no laugh from Satoru either, forced or otherwise. Still, he kept up his smile. As if Suguru hadn’t said anything of consequence. As if either of them had any right to so much as touch your daughter.

Satoru didn’t respond to the threat, nor did Suguru urge him to. Almost mechanically, Suguru’s arm fell away from your midriff, and with little more than a nudge to the back of your shoulder, you were on your feet, vulnerable and shaking on the center of the raised dais. You could still feel a mix of slick and saliva coating the inside of your thighs, and you had to swallow the urge to make a grab for your clothes, to put yourself through the humiliation of being forced to strip twice in one night.

Thankfully, tragically, you were liberated from any illusion of free choice swiftly. Without protest from Suguru, Satoru stepped onto the dais and took you by the hand, either overlooking or failing to acknowledge the panic in your eyes in favor of intertwining his fingers with yours and squeezing gently, as if you could still believe he genuinely wanted to comfort you. Rather than pulling you into his arms, dragging you down to the floor, he looked to Suguru, cocking his head to the side. “Get up.”

Suguru’s lips quirked downward, but he obeyed, pushing himself to his feet. “How blasphemous.”

Now, he pulled you off of your feet. In a moment, you were in his arms, and the next, you were perched on the altar, your back pressed against the wall and your legs spread around Satoru’s waist. “Blasphemous,” Satoru echoed, his voice low but plainly audible in the silence of the sanctuary. “would be fucking the most beautiful woman in the world on the ground. That’s why I’m her favorite – ‘cause I’m so considerate.”

No part of you trusted Suguru. No part of you preferred Suguru to Satoru, or the other way around. No part of you thought that, unless your life or his pride was threatened, he’d ever lift a finger to help you, but you found yourself glancing toward him out of the corner of your eye, doing your best to silently communicate that you needed to get out of here. Instead of sympathy, jealousy, you only found an idle smirk, a glassy sheen over his eyes that you could only imagine you’d mirrored for most of the day. “You’re not the one she’s married to, idiot.”

There was a dip, a surprisingly fleeting kiss to your lips, then your jaw, then your throat. “But she would get with me if you were out of the picture, right?” The question was punctuated with a nip to your collarbone, a hand dropped low enough to cup your pussy. The heel of his palm ground into your clit as two fingers pushed into your soaked cunt, spreading apart and scissoring you open. You tried to bow your head, to keep your eyes closed and your mouth shut, but you were still sensitive from your ruined climax, still so painfully exposed, and there was nothing you could do to bite back the cracked whines and pitiful mewls that slipped through your pursed lips. It was far from verbal confirmation, but Satoru hummed, grinned against your chest as if you’d sung his praises. “I’d get you a nicer ring, nicer house, nicer honeymoon. Always make sure you’re good n’ taken care of while Suguru’s busy playing god.”

Suguru huffed, and Satoru fell into a steady pace, adding a third digit as he carelessly fucked his fingers into your cunt. You didn’t hear him move, but before you could brace yourself, Suguru was at your side, leaning onto the altar to cup your face and trace over your jaw with the pad of his thumb. “I take care of you, don’t I?” You opened your mouth reflexively, ready to tell him that you were sorry, that you didn’t want him to touch you, that you wanted this to stop, but he was faster than you, more malicious. His thumb was forced past your lips before you could make a sound, pressed against the flat of your tongue with just enough force for your jaw to ache in protest. “I can’t blame Satoru for not being able to see that, though. Not when you treat me so cruelly.”

Cruelly. You’d never been cruel – at least, no crueler than you absolutely needed to be to survive. You felt pins and needles prick at the corners of your eyes before you noticed your vision blurring, before tears were streaming down either side of your face in boiling tracks. Satoru purred in sympathy, falling low and nuzzling into the tender spot at the base of your throat, flicking his wrist and burying himself inside of you to the knuckle. “You don’t have to worry, I know he’s the mean one.”

He was whispering, but that didn’t matter. He was too close, too awful for each word not to be absolutely deafening, for each little movement of his hand not to leave your nails scraping against the smooth wood of the altar, searching for purchase you wouldn’t find. Time was moving too quickly, it had been since you arrived at the temple. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t pull away, couldn’t breathe before Satoru pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the side of your neck and you were coming undone around his fingers, your thighs locking around his arm and keeping his digits inside of you until you could remember how to suck in a gasping inhale, until the last of the aftershocks faded and you could bring yourself to open your eyes. It wasn’t until the warmth of Satoru’s mouth fell away from your neck that you noticed the strange, copper tinge spread over your tongue, that you registered the absence of Suguru’s hand against your jaw. When you thought to look in his direction, he was evaluating his own hand. A thin, red line formed a dotted ring around the base of his thumb. You must’ve bitten down, at some point.

You must’ve hurt him.

Fear drowned out any satisfaction there might’ve been. He mentioned deciding against breaking your legs, earlier; was there any chance he’d change his mind? Would Satoru be able to stop him, if he tried to hurt you? Would Satoru even want to stop him? Himari was still alone, still in danger, and you wouldn’t be able to get to her if you couldn’t walk. You wouldn’t be able to stop Suguru from—

Satoru reached out, his hand curling around Suguru’s wrist and dragging it down to his height. With Satoru’s guidance, Suguru’s thumb came to rest against his bottom lip, then slipped into Satoru’s mouth entirely, his lips soon sealed around its base. There was a second or two of stillness, a swallowing-type noise too loud to ignore despite your best attempts not to hear it, and then, Suguru was pulling away and Satoru’s lips were crashing into yours.

It was strange for Suguru to be so clumsy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be as surprised by Satoru’s lack of polish. It was all you could do to choke back a renewed sob as his mouth moved against yours, as his pointed teeth ghosted over your lips and grazed the underside of your tongue. He was all instinct, no logic, and when you tried to straighten, to leave enough room between you and him to catch your breath, he only seemed to want you closer. His hands were on your waist, then your arms, then your chest, never satisfied unless he could dig his claws into the most tender parts of you, and this time, when his canines grazed over your lips, he wasn’t satisfied to leave your connection at contact alone. He let out a shameless moan as he lapped at the puncture wound, warm blood leaking down your chin and pooling on your chest where it pressed into his. Again, you looked to Suguru for help, and again, you immediately wished you hadn’t bothered.

He wasn’t perched on the altar, anymore. No – he’d shifted, slinked, positioned himself behind Satoru where he was bent at the waist. He caught your eye as his arms snaked around Satoru’s midriff, as Satoru arched his back to better take advantage of the new contact. There was the distant, muffled sound of fabric rustling, a keening whine from Satoru, and then, Suguru’s hand was curled around Satoru’s stiff, leaking cock – pumping over the shaft while his dark eyes burned holes into yours. “Get it over with,” he muttered, the bitter sterility of his tone a sharp juxtaposition to the grin creeping across his expression. “Before I remember why I want you dead.”

Satoru didn’t have to be coaxed into compliance. No, he let himself be eased into place, let Suguru slot himself against his back as he carefully aligned Satoru’s flushed tip to your entrance. Even after he’d let go, his hands finding the edge of the altar on either side of you, Satoru failed to move on his own. You could feel him drifting from your lips to your throat, then lower – to the crook of your neck, a spot Suguru’d always favored. Vaguely, you were aware of his lips moving against your skin, of warm breath fanning over your chest and leaving frost wherever it’d touched. His voice was muffled by proximity, but whether or not you could hear him didn’t really matter. You would’ve recognized those three little words from a thousand miles away.

“I love you.”

If you’d been able to laugh, you would’ve.

At least Satoru didn’t expect you to say it back.

Suguru must’ve missed it – that, or he was beyond the point of caring. His teeth sunk into the nape of Satoru’s neck, and then, something hot and piercing was inside of you.

This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out. A fractured moan tumbled past your lips as Satoru immediately fell into a brutal pace; all that teasing tenderness gone the moment your pussy was wrapped around his cock. Suguru didn’t pull away, but he didn’t help, either; straightening his back and gazing down at you with that same foggy, absent, pleased expression. It took you a moment to put a name to it; lovestruck, all glassy eyes and hollow smiles, any anger hidden behind a thick curtain of glazed-over satisfaction. He’d never looked away from you, but when you met his eyes, he seemed to soften even further, his shoulders dropping as he brought a hand to the small of Suguru’s back, spurring him on. “He’s always been this bad.” Suguru let out a keening whine into your shoulder, and Suguru chuckled airily. “Like a dog in heat. You’d think be as desperate as one, too, but apparently, his standards are too high for him to do anything but act like a whore.”

You couldn’t take it – the way Satoru’s hips crashed into yours, how his pubic bone ground against your clit, the pure venom interlaced with Suguru’s velvet-soft tone. You knew that it was useless, childish, but you couldn’t swallow down the cracked sob that rose up from somewhere deep and unprotected in your chest, couldn’t hold back the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. Suguru’s smile widened, his sharpened teeth catching the dull candlelight, but Satoru was kind enough not to be so observant. His attention was dedicated entirely to fucking into you as quickly and as deeply as possible; his cock never less than half buried. You felt him twitch, and before you could hold yourself back, your hands were on his back, your nails embedded in pale skin and tearing upward every time he bottomed out and sent a new type of agony coursing through your system. “Stop, stop, I can’t—”

“You can.” Clipped, concise, dripping with stone-cold affection. You’d be surprised if you ever heard any warmth in Suguru’s voice again. “That is, unless you’d like to break two hearts on the same night.”

Your mouth was still open, but you couldn’t answer. Satoru groaned as he rutted into you, his pace growing that much more erratic, his hips grinding into yours. He pulled you into another deep, copper-tinged kiss as he pressed his body flush to yours, as you felt something thick and hot and soul-crushingly familiar flood into you. It might’ve been the sensitivity, or the overstimulation, or the herbal stench of incense left to burn for a minute too long finally taking its toll – it didn’t really matter, either way. No explanation could’ve dampened the feeling of your cunt clenching tight around him, could’ve prevented the utter desolation of cumming on Satoru’s cock.

It seemed to go on for the longest time – second after second of thoughtless, helpless pleasure, century after century of Satoru against you, edging on your climax with the occasional sharp movement from his hips, a hasty kiss pressed into the corner of your jaw. Finally, after a small eternity, the last of the aftershocks faded, unwanted bliss fading into a slow, pulsing ache settled deep into the deepest pit of your chest. You felt Satoru shift; not pulling away, but lifting himself up, bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he said, again, and then, more quietly, “I’m sorry.”

You wanted to say something, to call him a liar, to spit out every venomous and vitriolic and warranted thing you could ever say to either of them, but it was already too late. Something vital slid out of place, a poor signal finally losing connection entirely, and then, everything went dark.

Nine months later, you’d find yourself in Suguru’s temple again, albeit not his sanctuary. A brown-haired woman in a lab coat and several female attendants swarmed around you, pressing damp cloths to your forehead and constantly rearranging the thick quilts laid over your limp body. Dried tears formed defined tracks down your cheeks, and every part of you screamed for rest, for escape, for a quick and merciful death. It was all you could do to suck in a shuddering breath, to remind yourself that there were more important things in the world than your own well-being. Sleep could wait. This couldn’t.

Slowly, you managed to turn your head towards Suguru, standing at your bedside just as he had for the past six hours. Your vision was distorted, dimmed around the edges, but it would’ve been impossible to miss the small, white bundle in his arms, already beginning to move. You could practically taste the relief, only slightly soured by your own exhaustion. Loving Himari had been a miracle. It would’ve been a lie to say that you hadn’t expected yourself to be more callous, the second time part of you was ripped away and molded into the shape of a man you hated.

Your eyes flickered to Suguru’s expression, to those impossibly dark eyes, and instantly, your relief was replaced by pure, unadulterated dread. A smile played at the corner of his mouth, softened and careless, but… Oh, god.

You’d never seen so much death in his eyes.

“Suguru.” You hadn’t meant to say anything, and yet, your voice was clear – a little hoarse, but far stronger than you felt. Never looking away from the bundle, he hummed, and you went on. “Can I see…?”

“Him,” Suguru filled in, bouncing your newborn – your son, gently. “A healthy baby boy. It’s a shame, really – I chose names with another girl in-mind.”

Thankfully, he didn’t make you ask again. With no small amount of care, the bundle was placed gently onto your chest, Suguru’s hand remaining on your shoulder – as if only waiting for your limited strength to give out. It took you a long moment to brush the swaddling sheets to the swaddling blanket aside, little hands immediately reaching up to bat against your own, and another to register what you were looking at. It wasn’t hard to see why Suguru was so angry.

You stared down at your son, and eyes more blue than the clearest, brightest sky stared back at you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #yandere jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru #geto x reader #gojo x reader

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bysaber · 1 year

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weeping dragon

pairing: neuvillette x fem!reader

summary: neuvillette thinks he isn’t deserving of your love.

content: cliche !!!, reader trapped in his house bc of rain, lil antsy but happy ending

wc: 800

a/n: mm hii!! first fic here! I hope you enjoy it I kind of wrote it in twenty minutes and I’m just publishing it without beta reading bc (we die like men) I’m just too in love with neuv and I want to share it with the world lolol

Neuvillette couldn’t bring himself to even think about making a move.

He kept many secrets, and every time he faced your bright smile he would remember it was not his place to disturb your peace. After all, how could a young woman like you endure the dangerous claws of a dragon?

You had stopped by his house to discuss the latest trial and his emotions got the best of him, causing a rain to start pouring.

A storm was approaching; lighting was seen through the window and low thunders could be heard. Neuvillette plagued himself under his breath, hoping there would be a day where he could better control his feelings.

“Here,” he said as he handed you the cup of tea. You watched the lighting curiously, “I do not think the storm will pass for a few hours. You should stay. For the night, I mean.”

You took the cup of tea and averted your eyes from the window to Neuvillette’s face. You studied him with caution, as if it was the first time you ever saw the man — even though you worked together for many months.

“Are you okay?” you asked, ignoring completely his offer.

The words got stuck in his throat and, for a few seconds, he really thought he wouldn’t answer. The man sipped on his tea, his mind racing while trying to figure out why you would ask that all of the sudden. “May I ask why are you asking me such a question?”

It was a small gesture, but he saw it all the same; the way you flexed your hand. There was something you wanted to grab?

Something you wanted to hold?

“They say… It rains when the Hydro Dragon weeps. Yeah, that's what they say,” you murmured and once again looked out the window. To the storm. “The Hydro Dragon. That would be you, right?”

Neuvillette almost choked on his tea, every part of his body malfunctioning and leaving him with only one thing for sure: in his entire existence, this was the first time he was left completely and utterly speechless.

Your warm and comforting eyes turned to him, and you grabbed his cup of tea to put it alongside yours on the coffee table. “Neuvillette,” you spoke his name as if it was a piece of poetry you were yet to learn — eager to do so, “Talk to me.”

And then— your hands, so small and fragile if compared to his, touched him. Your fingers traced his, and you embraced his hand between yours. He could feel the warmth of your skin contrasting against his cold one, pulling him closer, closer, closer.

“When did you figure it out?” was the first thing he said, scared it may be recent. If so, there still is time for you to run, for you to escape. To turn your back and never see him again. It’s probably the best for you, he knows, but this little selfish part in him can’t stand the thought of seeing you gone.

“A month ago or so, it doesn't matter,” you’re quick to cut the subject. “I didn't mention it because I knew you didn't want me to. I’m just worried, that's all.”

Worried.

She is worried.

The realization clicks in Neuvillette’s mind, for the first time in so long acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, he was too, deserving of someone’s concern and care.

“You are saying it does not matter,” he repeats as if to confirm what he just heard.

I pushed you because I cared about you. I pushed you because you made me feel good and comfortable. I pushed you because I thought my true self would frighten you.

Yet, you’re here. And you’re telling me it doesn’t matter.

“It doesn’t. Never did,” you frown. “I just wanna know, no— I need to know why it is raining, Neuvillette. Why would you weep? I’m here with you, talk to me.”

Without giving it a second thought, Neuvillette’s right hand finds your lower back and in a split second you're pressed against his chest, the tightest hug you have ever been given. He’s much taller than you, and you can feel perfectly as he inhales your scent and hugs you tightly.

“Neuv—”

“I thought I had to restrain myself from you. I thought I was no good,” he finally speaks his mind, distancing himself enough for you to see his face; the weeping Dragon. Oh, the melancholy in his eyes.

The eyes of someone who almost lost something precious.

“Neuvillette,” you whispered. “There’s nothing better for me than you.”

And it was true; so you pulled on his hair just enough to have him connecting your lips, a sigh of relief escaping him as if there was nothing in this world he had anticipated more.

#wbysaber #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #fontaine #neuvillette x you #neuvilette #neuvilette x reader #fanfic #oneshot #drabble #imagine

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nadvs · 5 months

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♡ㅤׄㅤִㅤ ୨୧ rafe cameron & his sweetheart girlfriend ✧

ᝰ rafe didn’t realize just how badly he craved kind, gentle love until he met her. he assumed every relationship he’d be in would be dysfunctional but then this girl, who’s sunshine personified, comes into his life and he has never wanted someone more.

ᝰ he’s a nervous wreck the whole time he pursues her. she’s well aware of his bad reputation and the fact that she takes the time to get to know him with open arms instead of letting gossip influence her makes it all the more clear to him how sincere she is.

ᝰ just because she’s sweet doesn’t mean she takes his shit. rafe is a victim to his own temper at times and when he snaps at her, she calmly tells him to cool down and talk to her about what’s really bothering him. she doesn’t escalate arguments. she talks him down. and he loves her for it.

ᝰ rafe would die of embarrassment if anyone saw what he’s like with her. he loves when she plays with his hair and leaves kisses all over his face. his favorite place in the world is on top of her, his head on her chest, wondering how he got lucky enough to win the heart he hears beating.

ᝰ she’s his best friend and maybe his buddies would give him shit for that, but it’s true. because he has never known a bond like this. not only does he have fun with her, but he actually feels understood for once. eventually, she knows him better than he knows himself.

ᝰ rafe hates crying but he hates it the least when it’s with her. he’s used to being told to toughen up. but she doesn’t do anything of the sort. she holds him, consoles him, keeps her gaze off of him because she knows he hates being looked at when he’s in this state.

ᝰ she’s the first one to say the word love and rafe has never felt happier in his life. he has felt love for her for months, but knows he wouldn’t survive if she didn’t say it back. he kisses her hard, whispering that he loves her over and over, making up for every time he thought it but couldn’t say it.

ᝰ the feeling he gets from having somebody worry about him is unreal. he’s used to being neglected and ignored, but she shows her concern for him in countless ways. she’s always reminding him to drive his motorcycle carefully. he eventually tacks a photo of her on his dash as a reminder not to speed because he has a reason to live now.

ᝰ rafe isn’t surprised that his family adores her. his father mentions something in passing about her being a good apple. she even makes ward crack a smile with one of her jokes every so often. rafe doesn’t know how somebody could be so perfect. he’d love her even without the approval but he’s comforted by the fact that he doesn’t have to worry about it.

ᝰ she sees something in rafe that he doesn’t see in himself. he actually likes who he is around her. he’s still rough around the edges with others, but he’s his most authentic self with her. she’s on his mind all day and he misses her every minute they’re not together. he calls her his angel, because that’s truly what she is to him.

inspired by an ask from @putherup 💘

#rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron concepts #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron blurb #hc #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron and reader

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miserycanary · 6 months

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MY HELL FOR YOUR LOVE ᡣ𐭩

♡⃛ ‘A Fixed Heart in Your Hand' alternative ending

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: alternative ending because I feel bad for hurting y'all

tags: hurt/COMFORT, fluff

"Sir? Sir!”

Ghost flinches as he realizes he’s been spacing out, the florist now looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Are you going to buy something or not?” she snaps, motioning at the display of bouquets. “Uh, yeah. Give me something with hyacinth and baby breaths,” he mutters, handing her a 100 bill. “Hyacinth? Never thought I’d see a day where a man knows a different flower aside from roses, tulips, and sunflowers,” the vendor chuckles, arranging the flowers neatly and covering them with a brown printed paper tied with a twine. “Ah,… if I know something, it’s about her.” The florist smiles, handing Ghost the bouquet and his change while saying, “Well, I can see that you love her dearly.” With a soft smirk, he replies, “That I do.”

You’ve always had a love for flowers. Going as far as to even beg him to make you a flower bed. Ghost didn’t like doing physical labor with him already getting beat from training at the base, yet when you flashed him that smile (and gave a toe-curling blowjob), how could he refuse? Since then, flowers as gifts have been rare between you two. Instances where he’d give you one are when you’re on a terrible period day or during milestones (the flowers coming from the patch he secretly planted months before).

It’s been two days since you’ve left the apartment, staying at your friend’s house, but Ghost insists on having you keep some of your stuff in the unit because, “well, you technically have ownership of the place since we shared the payment for this month.” It was a poor excuse, really, but it worked. Ghost knows you well enough to know that you haven’t broken up with him despite what you said. Leaving and staying somewhere else is something you do when you’re hurt and need space, and he knows that deep inside, you’re waiting for him.

Don’t get him wrong. He doesn’t think you’re “easy to get” and he did really regret everything. The last 2 nights without you knocked some sense into him. The night felt colder, somber, and… lonely. Something he thought he would never complain about. I mean, this man has been through worse situations and he prefers solitude, but not if it’s solitude without you. You’re the one thing he can’t live without.

He has sent you multiple voicemails, messages, and even money as an apology. He’d always drop off by your friend’s place with some poorly attempted home-cooked meal of your favorite dishes. Sometimes he’d be able to steal a glance at you when he saw you coming up to the unit right before he arrived, sending flutters to his heart and butterflies in his stomach like a high school boy with a crush.

Now he stands by the door, hoping he’d leave the place with you in his arms, and him in your heart again. Three knocks (you always say less or more than that are for psychopaths) and a call of your name. Simon couldn’t help but chuckle when he heard your familiar cry, probably from rushing and stumbling. The wooden door cracked open, and the adrenaline that rushed through his nerves just from seeing you again could knock the man dead. He couldn’t even say anything except literally melt and give you the warmest smile. “Hi,” he softly greets, pulling the bouquet out of the paperbag and handing it to you with another gift. It was a charm... a tree bark with your initials engraved. You chuckle, pulling out the letter sticking out.

One thing you learned about your Simon was that he’s not entirely good at conveying his feelings. I mean, that’s literally the reason for this fight. Yet he got out of his comfort zone, wrote you a fucking letter.

You look at him, tears in your eyes before jumping into his arms.

“I fucking missed you, pretty girl,” he mutters, holding you up by your ass and pressing a deep kiss on your lips. God, you taste like heaven; you taste like salvation. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pushes you closer, afraid you’ll slip from his fingers again.

From that day on, Simon learned one thing. That he would rather go through the depths of hell (talk about his feelings) than go through a day without your love.

| The letter:

‘To my darling flower, I’m sorry for even hurting you. I’m sorry I was a shit-ass about how I processed my emotions and got you involved. You’ve always told me that you’re there for me but I didn’t want to burden you. I always want you to be happy but my actions just did the opposite. I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything that day. That I didn’t even ask you to stay. I’m sorry for being a coward. I’m sorry that I let you go.

With this letter, I ask for your forgiveness and for you to have me back. I will be better because I cannot afford to lose you for you have my heart and soul. You are my whole life. You are the thing that makes surviving each day worth it.’

꒰ა ☆ ໒: Now you guys know why Ghost calls Y/N ‘flower’. This the comfort alternative ending because it was also requested. 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist: @softestqueeen

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

#simon ghost x you #simon riley fluff #simon riley cod #simon riley call of duty #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #ghost riley #simon riley #canary’s symphonies #canary’s melodies

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hargreeves-duncan · 1 month

Note

Hey, I read your last Five fics which I absolutely loved and I was wondering if I could request a (Five x Reader) or (Five x OC) in which Five betrays the MC with Lila in the subway and when they come back MC leaves him and meets someone else who she falls deeply in love with (probably married her new partner and even has children) and years later Five finds her and he tries to fix everything because he realized that whatever happened with Lila was not real love and then he witnesses MC with her new family and realizes that it could’ve been him if only he would’ve treasured her love and stayed loyal to her?

I just love angst with a happy ending for the person who was betrayed and a miserable life for the traitor.

a/n: i’m inclined to agree, bad people deserve to get what’s coming to them!! i know everyone really wanted a pt. 2 to the cheating!Five fic and that’s what this turned into so… hope you enjoy!❤️

summary: you’ve moved on, five’s still recovering from the life that could’ve been

warnings: cheating

word count: 2.2k

tags: @snixx2088

pt. 1

Five checked the address in his notepad for the hundredth time since he’d left his apartment. He looked back up at the house with its neat entryway and wide, glorious front garden. There were cream roses spiralling around the white picket fences and he wondered if you were the one who’d painted them. You'd always had a knack for fixing things up and making them shine better than they had without you, himself included. Your entire house, no, home, was beautiful - but what else did he expect? It was yours, after all.

He took a deep breath, wringing out his hands that were already sweating profusely. He hadn’t felt nerves like these in years. It had been so long since you’d last seen him and your life looked so perfect and picturesque without him in it that he felt selfish for dirtying your lawn with his presence.

Things had been difficult during the split, you couldn’t even hold his eye or be alone in the same room as him after the events of Christmas Eve. But even after everything, you’d still been straight with him, and civil too, when you told him that you were going to stay somewhere else for a while. You'd needed some time before the two of you could be close again and, of course, he’d agreed. To tell the truth, at the time he hadn’t even minded. He had Lila then. Why was there any need for you to stay around?

But after a while, she had left too. For Lila, their seven years together really only had been a fling, a spur of the moment. She went back to her husband, her family. And Diego, being softer than you were, let her, no matter what she’d done or how badly she’d hurt him. The two of them had pushed forward and eventually they’d made it to the other side. They weren’t the same couple as they had been, but they were doing better, and for them that was enough.

After that, Five had grown bitter towards you and the way you’d reacted. Why couldn’t you see things the way Diego had? Why hadn’t you taken him back and reassured him that you would fix it all, like his brother had done for Lila? That was how things were supposed to go.

He was angry at Lila for a while too, for choosing her family over the future he wanted with her. He hadn't understood how their affair was formed by circumstance, not love. He knew better now.

Looking back, a small part of him actually respected you more for turning him away. It was strong of you to choose yourself for once and he was proud of how you’d pushed through, even when he had begged and pleaded for you to take him back.

He wouldn’t do that today, he promised himself, as he marched on and up the steps of your front porch. He brushed his hair out of his face and then he reached up, knocking on the door. He heard the soft thump of feet on the hardwood floors draw closer.

The door opened and there you stood, smiling, “Hi!” You paused as you registered who it was that stood in front of you. Shocked, you said, “Oh! You are not the mail.”

Five laughed softly, shaking his head, “Uh… I am not, no.” He silently looked over you, taking in the ways you’d changed since he last saw you. Your hair was slightly longer than it used to be, but it looked good, suited you. As did the outfit you were wearing. He didn't dare to say that out loud though.

“I… Hi, Five. What can I do for you?” You asked, stepping out onto the porch and gently closing the door behind you. He’d missed your soft-spoken voice and hearing it made a dreamy smile form on his face.

“I wanted to check on you, see how you’ve been.” He gestured to your front door, “May I…?”

You hesitated for a moment but then you sighed, nodding and smiling weakly, “Yeah, of course. Come on in.” You say, opening the door again and leading him inside. You’re walking three strides ahead of him as you ask, “Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”

“Uh, yeah. Coffee would be great, actually.” He says, blinking up at you in slight surprise as he steps into your home. He was expecting more resistance. The interior of your home is just as nice as the outside. It’s warm and so clearly full of the love that you’ve put into it. His eyes are drawn to the pictures on the shelf in the walkway.

There are a few of you with his siblings. He’s not surprised about that. In the wake of your divorce, it was you that they’d sided with and, even now, they were still treading lightly around Lila and him at family functions. What does surprise him are the two children that Klaus has his arms wrapped around in the family portrait at some celebration or other. They feature in several photos, dressed in pretty dresses and sporting toothy grins in almost every one.

Before he can overthink it, your voice is calling out to him, “Five?” You poke your head out of the kitchen door and he smiles resignedly. He stands up and follows you into the kitchen. He sits on one of the stools at the island.

The only sound comes from you, pouring out his coffee. You fetch yourself a water and then slide his mug towards him. He smiles gently, taking the warm beverage into his hands, “Thank you, love.”

Leaning on the counter, opposite him, your head snaps up to look at him as you laugh nervously. Catching his mistake, Five shakes his head, laughing a little himself, “Sorry. I guess it's still a force of habit.”

“It’s fine.” You say with a small smile, sipping from your own glass. The silence becomes comfortable. There was something familiar about this routine, enjoying the quiet company of one another and it settles any nerves left in Five.

Steadying his breath, his eyes search the kitchen for answers of what your life has looked like these last few years. More than a few times, he’d asked his siblings and they’d given little or sometimes even nothing to work with. He wished he still knew your ins and outs like he used to.

He finds his answers hanging up in a frame on the far wall. It’s a nice photo of you, your happiness shines out of it and watches over the room. There’s someone else in it too. Five doesn’t recognise him but by the placement of his hands, he knows what he must mean to you.

Five clears his throat, pointing to the photo with his mug, “Who’s the guy?”

You look up and feel your cheeks flame as you find the photo you had taken on your last vacation, “He’s my partner.” You say and your smile is shy as you talk about him. One mention of this guy and you’re already indescribably smile-y.

It makes Five’s stomach churn when you say, “We’ve been together for nearly five years now.”

“Oh, wow…” He says, eyebrows raising. He’s trying and failing miserably to mask his surprise and pain. It’s not as if he expected you to come running back into his arms with some crazy love confession or anything, but he didn’t think you’d have moved on either.

What hurts the most is how happy you look to be talking about your new partner, your eyes lit up with affection that used to be reserved for him, “That’s… that’s amazing, congratulations.”

You smile softly, wrapping your arms around yourself as you set your glass down, “Thank you.”

“And the kids in those photos in the hallway…?” Five says, glancing over his shoulder as if they’ll come barreling in at any second. He’s not sure he could face two girls with eyes just like yours staring back at him.

You nod, “They’re mine, yeah. They’re three. At pre-school right now, but, you know…” You answer, shrugging and smiling at the thought of your twin little girls.

After your time at The Commission, you’d been terrified of the mother you'd be. Some days it still felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to turn into a cruel, awful person. But, you hadn't so far and your partner was always there to soothe you when those thoughts started to creep up on you.

You were still learning that it was okay to be a mother and have had your own life before that as an assassin. Being a good killer didn’t stop you from being a good mother and you were more than capable of giving your girls the love they deserved. Everything you did was for the good of them and you were doing an amazing job at giving them a happy and completely normal life.

“Jesus, wow…” Five laughs to himself, running a hand over his face as he looks back at you. He’s speechless, hearing about the wonderful life that you’ve built yourself. He feels a deep-rooted guilt spring up in him. He never gave you that life but it was plain to see how much you craved it and how you were thriving in it.

He’d spent so long saying that maybe, one day, in between all of the chaos of your lives, you’d find time for a quiet life like this. He’d spent every waking moment pushing the future and its commitments as far away as he could, arguing that all he wanted was to focus on you whilst he had you in his arms. But he had never given you what you wanted and now you’d found it with someone else.

Swallowing down the ache in his chest, he pulled his mug closer to himself, seeking out the warmth of it on his palms to ground him, “You look really happy.”

“I am, I really am.” You say, smiling softly at him. You were happy that Five had come here today, that you could get some true closure on your time together, it felt like a lifetime ago now. Sunlight poured into the kitchen and your bracelet shimmered under its rays, a dazzling silver.

A strained smile makes its way onto Five’s face at the sight of it, yet another symbol of the fact that didn’t belong to him anymore. It hurt to admit it but silver suited you far better than gold ever did, and he’s sure that there’s a metaphor somewhere in there but he wasn't ready to face the truth behind it yet.

You take another sip of water and there’s a peaceful silence that falls over the room that gives you both the chance to absorb everything that’s passed between you in the last two decades. You look over his features and tilt your head to the side, “What about you, though? How’re you doing?”

Five could answer with what he’s really thinking - that he’s sorry for putting your dreams on the back-burner and that he didn't treasure you the way should've the first time around. He wants to tell you that if you go with him right now and give it all up that he can be the one to provide for you instead and he wants to tell you that he would be so much better than your new partner ever could - but he won’t, he promised he wouldn't.

Instead, he smiles weakly, shrugging his shoulders as he sits up, “I’m doing okay.”

You’ve said it yourself, you’re happy as you are and, unlike him, you're not hung up on the 'what ifs' and the 'could've beens'. You don't need him anymore and he's not selfish enough to risk ruining your happiness just to make some pathetic promise that you both know he won't keep.

“Yeah? That’s good. I’m glad.” You smile and the genuinity in your voice is the real kicker. You’re such a good person that you still care enough to want to know that he’s alright after everything, when he's still weighing up whether he should ruin your relationship or not.

He can’t help but question if he ever deserved you in the first place.

There’s a knock at the door and the both of you jump slightly. You laugh, “That must be the mail.” You set your glass down, padding out of the room.

He chuckles to himself, nodding, “Looks like it.” He mutters, finishing the dregs of his coffee and places the mug down on the counter as he stands up. He has to get out before he ruins your life all over again with words that you don't want to hear.

Walking back into the room with two boxes on your hip, you watch as he picks up his coat, “Oh! Please, don’t feel rushed, you don’t have to leave yet. I don’t have to go get the girls for another few hours.”

Five shakes his head, “No, it's alright. I’ll get out of your hair.” He says, walking into the hallway, “Thank you, by the way, for the coffee.”

“Of course, you’re welcome.” You say, following behind him as he walks out of the door.

He hovers on the porch and you smile kindly at him, “Just... please, don’t be a stranger, Five.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to."

#fanfic #fanfiction #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #request #anon

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stevieschrodinger · 1 month

Text

Part One Eleven

Steve watches as Eddie positions himself at the breakfast bar. He easily swings up the end of his tail, the final couple of feet laid out on the chopping board.

He slices a thick piece, turning it and cutting it into neat chunks. It looks like raw steak inside. He cuts a thicker slice, making more chunks, then he does it again.

Next to him, Robin picks up the chunks and slides them onto metal skewers, “thanks Eddie, these will go great on the grill.”

“Yeah, well, we need to get rid of it at some point, might as well use it up now-”

Steve wakes up choking. He doesn’t make a noise, or at least, he doesn’t think he has. He just lies there, heart beating frantically, eyes wet, telling himself again and again, just a dream, just a dream, just a dream.

Steve lies there, waiting for his heart to calm and his breathing to even out, the sweaty flush on his skin slowly cools. He really needs to go back to sleep, but he knows already that he probably won’t be able to settle.

He wants to talk to Eddie. Wants to see him. Doesn’t think he’ll be able to go back to sleep without reassuring himself that Eddie actually is okay which – okay, that’s a bit ridiculous, but he just...needs to. For his own sanity.

Steve blinks gritty eyes at the clock, nearly half three in the morning. His parents are down the hall in their room, and Eddie is at Hopper’s cabin, hopefully asleep on the couch, and there’s not much Steve can do about that.

He lies there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, willing himself to relax. The more he tries, the less likely it becomes, until it hits him; the walkie.

He rolls out of bed, and feeling a little bad for waking Eddie up, makes sure it’s on their channel and the volume is down low before holding down the trigger to speak, “Eddie?”

Nothing. Silence. God Steve is an absolute shit for doing this, and he hopes it’s not so loud that he wakes Hopper or El. He resolves to try one more, if this doesn’t work he will just have to make himself leave it alone and go back to bed, “Eddie?”

There’s a few seconds of silence this time, before a quiet crackle of static, “Stee?”

“Sorry to wake you up buddy, are you okay?”

“Eddidie fine. Pear and grape for din-ner. El Eddidie dance. Mus-ic. Movie on TV. Clean teeth. Couch sleep. Blanket. Stee good?”

“That’s...really good Buddy. Yeah, I’m fine, just had a bad dream,” Steve wants to ask about the dancing and the music and what the movie was and everything else Eddie has been up to today, but it’s the middle of the night, and it would be selfish to keep Eddie talking, “you should sleep.”

“Stee bad dream tell Eddidie? Dark TV tell?”

Steve thinks for a second, “I dreamed you got hurt. Eddie ow. Many ow, really bad. I was...scared.”

There’s a few seconds silence before Eddie replies, “Eddidie no ow.”

“No, I know buddy, but thank you for telling me, we should get some sleep. Night.”

“Stee perfect.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

Steve’s been lying in bed for a full minute before he realizes what he’s just said. It doesn’t really matter; Eddie doesn’t know what it means.

Stupid brunch. Stupid brunch that stopped Steve visiting Eddie before work. Stupid parents. Stupid Keith and his stupid duty rosta so stupid Robin is at stupid work and she couldn’t come to stupid brunch. His parents are so much nicer when she’s there; something to do with keeping up appearances in front of strangers or whatever, Steve knows why they do it. It’s not because they actually like Robin or anything. Steve's pretty sure his parents don;t actually like anyone, not even each other.

Steve sits in his car and sighs. Watches as the door cracks open and the light spills out. Eddie sitting there in his blue sweater. As Steve watches, he lifts his hand and gives a little wave. Steve shouldn’t be visiting this late really, but he couldn’t miss a day. It’s not fair on Eddie, for one thing, being left here like this, when he doesn’t really understand why.

Steve gets out of the car and jogs over to the house, Eddie letting him in. El’s not there, Steve figures she’s already in bed. Hopper’s putting dishes in the kitchen when Steve comes in, “sorry I’m so late Hop.”

Hopper shrugs, “doesn’t matter. I’m going to bed anyway, Eddie, get the lights and lock up before sleep, okay?”

Eddie nods, “make dark. Key lock make safe.”

“You got it. Night kids.”

“Night Hop.”

“Night Hopper.”

Steve throws himself down on the couch; today has just sucked all the way through, Eddie climbs up next to Steve, muttering, “Eddidie not kid,” under his breath.

Steve snorts a laugh, Eddie clearly does not want to be lumped into the same category as the, ‘mongrels,’ “if you’re not a kid, what are you?”

Eddie thinks for a second, the points past Steve, “book please,” Steve hands it over, leaning close to watch Eddie as he thumbs his way with fair accuracy to the page he wants; Steve really should get him some more books. He’s also got to thank El for working on Eddie’s manners.

It’s the frog page again.

Eddie points to the ‘froglet’, “Eddidie.”

“So...like a teenager?” Steve hazards vaguely. Steve figured Eddie is the same age as him, more or less, just because the human parts look the same and are roughly the same size; it’s not really anything to go on though. Steve points, “when do you grow into a frog?”

“Later.”

“What?”

Eddie nods, “later.”

“Eddie...are you going to get legs?” Steve has to be sure. Has to understand what Eddie is saying.

“Legs?”

Steve lifts his feet off the floor, waving his legs up and down a little, trying not to get too excited before he's sure, pointing, “legs.”

“Yes. Eddidie legs later.”

All of the worry Steve's been harboring about what to do with Eddie just...lifts. He knows Eddie couldn't live with him, hidden away, forever...but the thought of releasing Eddie somewhere. Leaving him alone, worrying about what would happen if people found him. Never seeing him again, all of it was tearing at Steve inside, a burden he didn't know how to answer, “Eddie! Why didn’t you tell me! This is awesome-”

“Legs bad.”

“What…why?”

Eddie closes the book, looking sad again, he takes Steve’s hand, “called?”

“That’s my hand buddy...and those parts are fingers,” Steve lets Eddie link their fingers together, the webbing preventing them locking together fully, “Eddie, why are legs bad?”

Eddie shuffles closer, turning his body into Steve’s, “called?” Eddie uses his free hand to point to Steve’s eyes.

“Eyes, buddy,” Eddie’s finger makes contact as he shifts in the seat to lean ever closer, tail pressed tight to Steve’s thigh, he traces Steve’s brow, “eye brows.” Eddie’s finger, his black, rounded claw traces along Steve’s nose, “nose.” Steve can’t move, doesn’t feel like he can breathe really as he waits for what comes next. Eddie’s fingertip traces Steve’s bottom lip, ever so gently he touches, leaving a tingling on Steve's skin, “lips. Lips and...mouth.”

Eddie nods, satisfied, taking his hand away, and Steve can finally take another breath, even with the distraction of Eddie's touch, he can’t avoid the sense of mounting horror, “Eddie, why are legs bad?”

Eddie has to drop Steve’s hand to bring both up to his face, he gets as far as pressing his palms to his cheeks before Steve grabs his wrists, dragging his hands away from his face, “no,” Steve says, horrified, “no, that’s not what happens. You’re wrong, that can’t be what happens.”

Eddie nods, sad but sure.

“No. Eddie no, that’s not- I won’t let you,” and Steve knows as he says it he has no fucking control over this whatsoever.

Eddie takes Steve hand again, pushes it against the back of his head. Steve’s fingers worm their way in, feeling that familiar starburst of ridges. They’re familiar as the rest of Eddie now, Steve’s been washing Eddie’s hair pretty much every other day for weeks and weeks now. Steve fingers find the place where they meet in the middle, right at the back of Eddie’s head, “mouth.”

Steve fights the instinct to pull his hand away in horror. He forces himself to keep it there; it won’t hurt him, Steve can feel the ridges of Eddie’s fucking skull, hard and unforgiving under his skin and hair. That can’t be right, it just doesn’t make any sense but...Steve can imagine it, the petals of a Demogorgon’s mouth unfolding.

“Stee?”

Steve’s voice breaks when he speaks, and he can feel the first tear break free, rolling down his cheek, “yeah buddy?”

“El tell Eddidie...Stee tell Eddidie I love you. El tell Eddidie love...Eddidie love Stee too. Stee perfect.”

“Oh buddy," Steve's voice cracks, "...yeah. Yeah, I love you too,” Eddie wipes away Steve’s tears with his knuckle, licking the water off his finger. Eddie half climbs and Steve half pulls Eddie into his lap. They hold each other tight, Eddie gently nuzzling his face back and forth against Steve's cheek, against his neck, breathing in Steve's hair and skin.

Steve does the same to Eddie, hands tight on Eddie's tail, on his back, in his hair, wherever he can reach to touch, committing Eddie to memory.

Steve doesn’t go home, he can’t. He just sleeps, fully clothed, on the couch, pulling Eddie down on top of him, and holding him close.

Steve and El sit on the stoop, all bundled up. Steve’s got a coffee and El’s got a hot chocolate. They watch as Eddie moves along the tree line; he’s collecting pine cones and burying them. Planting seeds. He uses his hard, blunt claws to dig; the earth is maybe a little harder because of the cold, but it doesn’t seem to bother or hinder Eddie at all.

It feels precious now, watching Eddie. It feels like the time he has with him is suddenly short; that he needs to make the most of every single second. Steve tries to absorb all of it, the way Eddie moves. The look on his face as he examines his finds, his fingers, the dark nails. The way the light is absorbed by the dark matte black of his tail. The way his hair gets blown around in the fresh breeze, shining a little in the light, thanks to Steve’s hair care regimen.

How he smiles at Steve when he catches him watching.

Steve tries not to think about last night; it’s too much to absorb. Too strange; surely Eddie cannot be right. But then Steve reminds himself of where Eddie came from, and the fact that the girl he’s sitting next too can move shit with her mind, and figures he has to adjust his expectations around what could be normal.

“He does this a lot,” El says.

“Huh, maybe he does this back home too; always wondered what he gets up to when I’m not there.”

“He does,” El says with certainty.

“Oh have you...have you looked. Inside his head?”

“Only a little. Just to check if he’s alright and...when he’s struggling to find the words.”

“Oh. Yeah. Is it...is it very different?”

“Yes.” El seems to think for a moment, “he thinks in...pictures. People think in words a lot. And he pretty much only thinks about now. People think about a lot of things at once, the past, the future. Eddie doesn’t do that, there’s mostly only now.”

“Huh...I guess that...makes sense.”

Eddie comes back to the foot of the steps, brushing loose things from the woods off the sweater of the day, “Hopper now,” he informs them.

“Oh yeah Buddy? Can you hear his car?” Steve touches his ear.

“Hopper car yes, Eddidie hear. Hopper inied work.”

Steve can’t help but smile, even though it feels like he wants so cry at the same time, “what is Hopper’s job, do you know?”

Eddie nods, “Hopper Hawkins Indiana safe.”

“Yeah buddy, that’s exactly right.”

Part Thirteen

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #pre steddie #mermeddie #mermaid eddie #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature #getting together

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gay-dorito-dust · 16 days

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heyyy. I been binge reading some of your batboys works (i've really loved it all) and i was wondering if you could write something about going from friends to lovers with Dick and Jason. except the reader has some major abandonment issues and subconsciously starts drifting apart from them when she realizes she has catched feelings.

Thank you :)

I kinda rambled here

Dick

You knew of dick’s…commitment issues and failed romances and that was the moment you were fucked because you had soon found yourself falling for the man with the prettiest smile and charming personality.

And with that revelation being made when you were having a platonic movie night with Dick and he has his arm rested against your shoulder as his other hand rubbed your legs that were draped across his lap like it was something he did all time.

It felt perfect to spend your nights at Dick’s place, with Hayley cuddled up to your side and dick on you practically half on his lap, half on the couch, but then his phone goes off and suddenly you remembered that this man was going through a serious on and off relationship with some girl you couldn’t remember the name of, and neither could he from the looks of it as he texted back out of politeness.

Needless to say your best plummeted into your stomach as you suddenly stood up from the couch, startling both Dick and Hayley with your abruptness.

‘Hey are you okay?’ Dick said worriedly as he got up from the couch, hands outstretched to hold your shoulders but you were quick to step back to avoid his touch as though it were poison.

‘I just remembered that I’ve got something that I have to do.’ You blurted.

‘Right now? At 11pm at night?’ Dick asked, not fully convinced, finally managing to cupped your face in his hands as he rested his forehead against your own, forcing you to stare into his eyes full of concern that only made your heart clench painfully in your chest.

‘Yes, I’m sorry to cut movie night short but I have to go.’ You said, pulling away from him in fear of doing something stupid and quickly rushing towards the door with your jacket half on and your bag in hand, leaving dick to look at Hayley who was just as equally confused by what had just happened.

You didn’t wish for your heart to grow fond of Dick, but you couldn’t stop your heart from wanting more out of your friendship with him for Dick was perfect in every aspect, however you had been in situations where people have abruptly left your life inexplicably or when you stopped being their little pushover and began to push back when they push you first.

No longer the easily manipulated version of yourself that they wanted you to be as they left to find someone else to manipulate in your place.

You knew dick would never but you’ve been too far hurt before to be so certain that he wouldn’t end up abandoning you when you need him most. So you thought it was best to put distance between you two in hopes that he’d understand and move on without you, even if it did hurt but you weren’t about to put yourself back out their again after everything you’ve been through, it wasn’t worth the heartbreak that would untimely follow with unrequited love.

You’ll happily be his friend but nothing more when there were others out there who could fulfill him better than you ever could.

Jason

You knew you started to feel different towards Jason the moment you woke up and found him making breakfast for the both of you.

It was domestic and sweet that it made your mind wander to what else life with Jason could be like? Would he cuddle you as you slept? Would he let you borrow his jackets like he did now when you got cold? Thoughts like this and many more existed within your head all at the same time that you almost missed what Jason was saying.

‘Hey sleepy head, finally woken up have you?’ He teased as he moved over to you, kissing you on the forehead, something he has started doing recently without reason but it never failed to make your heart flutter.

‘Yeah.’ You chuckled as you felt your cheeks burn but also the fear fester within your chest.

‘I made breakfast for you chipmunk.’ Jason said as he smiled at you before pinching your cheek playfully. ‘So you better eat up before I eat it all myself.’ He adds and quickly you grabbed your plate and began to eat the food Jason made while swatting his hand away whenever it got too close for comfort.

After the brief but playful morning you were left to become worried about your blossoming feelings.

Sure Jason was sweet and loyal as a dog but you had been hurt by people who claimed to be loyal, who only ended up being selfish and as unfaithful as they come. So again while you knew that Jason was loyal, you couldn’t find it in yourself to believe that Jason would ever go for someone like you without getting bored and leaving you much like everyone else did.

So instead of comforting Jason and being upfront about what’s wrong with you, you decided to distance yourself from him and making excuses why you couldn’t hang out with him and Roy and or just ignored whenever he text or called. only to find that he tends to show up at your place when you didn’t answer his texts and calls with a worried look upon his face as he bombards you with questions as to why you were ignoring him.

Gotham isn’t a safe at all and so Jason tended to get protective of you and would want to keep tabs on where you were but not to the overbearing extent, but just enough to give himself a peace of mind of that you were okay. While it was sweet and all but still you found yourself wanting to distance yourself from him in order to guard your heart out of fear and anger towards how your heart practically melted whenever Jason came into view.

You knew better than to give your heart willingly to someone, having learnt it the hard way one too many times that you can only act as though unfazed when Jason did anything remotely sweet for you in general when in reality you were wondering what else he’d do if put in a romantic relationship.

However you could only make yourself satisfied with being his friend, nothing more if it means keeping yourself safe from all harm, whether it be by his hands or someone else’s. It wasn’t worth it and you weren’t exactly eager to trust someone with a heart so fragile it could break from even the slightest of grazes.

While you couldn’t shut yourself from Jason forever, you could however shut yourself off in other ways.

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gothgoblinbabe · 21 days

Text

Nothing Worth Saying Aloud

A/N: This one is short n' sweet! Inspired by the song "Need 2" by Pinegrove which I had first heard because I read this one shot that used that song as inspiration! Theirs is much better I'll be real but I had this festering in my brain for too long every time I'd play that song on repeat

Summary: Misunderstanding and miscommunication makes for a terrible combination that leaves you feeling like you've had your heart ripped from your chest

Warnings: Angsty as all hell, a lil' bit of fluff at the end, that's really it!

Word Count: 2K

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་

You’d gone through a couple break ups in your life, a handful of failed situation-ships that ended awkwardly - even a long term relationship or two - but all the heartbreak you’d experienced couldn’t compare to the chest-crushing agony you experienced now.

The terrible moment of facing the music; accepting what couldn’t be, even if you wanted it more than anything.

Logan was not into you and he was never going to be.

You had to confront that when you’d gone down the stairs of the mansion one night to get a glass of water, almost certain you were the only person awake. That was until you’d stopped short in the hallway, seeing Logan and Jean standing with their backs to you. You couldn’t hear their conversation and didn’t think anything of it until you watched his arm snake around her shoulders, pulling her into him for a hug.

Your stomach sank. You really should have known.

The way he talks to her, looks at her, is always there to help her; it must have been obvious to anyone but you. You’d been friends for so long that you were almost dumbfounded that you never realized, probably too blinded by your own rose colored glasses.

You turned on your heel immediately, climbing the stairs to hide in your bedroom. Your chest felt heavy and your skin felt like it was on fire. You never ended up sleeping that night, too sick to think of anything else but Jean and Logan.

That was maybe two weeks ago now and you’d avoided Logan every day since as best you could. You’d gone from being nearly inseparable to speaking only when you had to. He’d try his best to get you to talk to him about anything at all but you only gave him one word answers. He even tried to keep you after training one day, gently having a hold on your bicep.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” He asked bluntly. He tried to look you in the eyes but they were nearly glued to the metal floor of the basement corridor, your hair falling in your face.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine, Logan, really,” you were able to mutter out, somehow keeping your voice from cracking. Before he could interrogate you further, you shrugged yourself out of his soft grip and speed-walked to the elevator, tears flowing the second you turned away from him.

You were not fine. Your eyes were always red and puffy from crying yourself to sleep and everyone could tell something was off.

Ororo even stopped you in the hallway outside your bedroom one night, begging you to tell her what was wrong and what she could do to help.

“It’s nothing, I - “ you had started to dismiss her, but she was having none of it.

“Stop with that! Enough! You need to tell me what’s up or I’m gonna have to force it out of you somehow and you know I do not wanna do that. Now tell me.”

You sighed, never picking your gaze up from the floor.

“Come here, I don’t want anyone to hear me,” you beckoned her into your room.

She sat by your side at the edge of the bed as you confessed what you had seen and how badly it had torn you apart, rubbing your back gently when you choked out a sob.

“Honey,” she cooed, pushing some hair from your face and wiping a tear away, “I think you need to talk to him. This is gonna eat you up inside if you don’t and I think maybe it could’ve been a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t know, ‘ro. I can’t even look at him without feeling like I’m gonna burst into tears,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes with the collar of your t-shirt.

“Think about it. I can’t tell you what to do, but I think you really should. And if it was what it looked like, sweetheart, this is not the end of the world,” she reminded you.

“It sure does feel like it,” you joked, tears still rolling down your cheeks.

“I know,” she sighed, patting your back gently, “talk to him.”

You nodded and she left the room, reminding you to come find her if you needed anything at all.

You thought her words over and ultimately still hid in your room the next day, skipping training to rot in bed in sweatpants and a tank top. The thought of having to confess to Logan that you were really in love with him was far too paralyzing. It almost made you sick If you thought about it too long.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea to keep shuffling sad songs on repeat and yet you did, keeping your CD player at a low volume so you wouldn’t bother anyone and they wouldn’t bother you. Your hair was a mess and you were glad that at the very least, you’d had enough energy to shower that morning after three days of not doing so. You held your knees to your chest while laying on your side, burying your face into your pillow to muffle your wailing sobs.

Logan was downstairs at the same time, making his way towards the stairs, only to run into Scott.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Logan spoke, stopping him with a hand on his upper arm.

Even through Scott’s glasses, Logan could tell he was glaring suspiciously.

“About what? Why?”

Logan said your name, looking around to be sure they were alone in the hallway.

Scott’s expression softened and he leaned against the wall, waiting for him to explain.

“Do you know what’s up with her? She won’t talk to me, she hasn’t in two weeks. She won’t even look at me. Has she said anything to you?” Logan spewed out, rubbing the back of his neck as a nervous tic.

“No, your girlfriend didn’t mention anything,” he teased, shaking his head, “but hey, just talk to her. You’ve been close for a while now, you just have to confront her.”

“She’s not my - okay, whatever. Yeah, I’m gonna go talk to her. Maybe she’s in her room,” Logan sighed.

“She’s always in her room lately. If there’s anyone that can pull her out of it, it would be you.”

He quickly thanked Scott and finally reached the stairs. He had been walking through the hall, finding your bedroom door and stopping when he heard a noise he couldn’t quite make out. He heard you sniffle and his heart dropped.

You were crying.

He tried to give you your space, work through whatever it was that was bothering you, but it broke him to see you the way you were and his prodding didn’t seem to help. Still, he didn’t know how much longer he could let you dodge him in the halls or live with the fact that you wouldn’t even look at him anymore. He had planned to talk to you that day, but you rarely came out of your room now.

So, he laid a hand on your doorknob, turning it slowly. He would’ve knocked - he always did - but every time he had recently, you laid silent and pretended not to be in the room. He always knew you were, recognizing the smell of your perfume behind the door.

The door cracked open a few inches and he saw you, curled in a ball in your bed with your face in your pillow. Your shoulders moved up and down as you sobbed, gripping the pillow so hard that your knuckles turned white.

There’s no way Logan could leave you like this. He slid into the room and closed the door gently, but you could hear the click of the knob over your music.

Your head shot up and you saw Logan standing with his back to your door, an almost devastated look on his face.

“Oh god, Logan, please, don’t - “ you choked out, turning your face so he couldn’t see you and waving him away. Out of everyone you wanted to see right now, he was at the bottom of the list because this was humiliating.

He’d seen your bloodshot eyes and pink nose, your cheeks wet with tears. There was no way you could tell him you weren’t crying.

“You have to talk to me. Please, what did I do?”

The last thing you wanted was for him to think it was all his fault. It wasn’t, really. He didn’t do anything to hurt you on purpose; He couldn’t have known it would upset you in the slightest or that you were even in the hallway that night.

“Nothing, Logan, please, just go away - “ you begged, still facing away with your face buried in your hands.

“I’m not leaving till you tell me what’s going on,” he said firmly, “you won’t even look at me. I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I’ll make it up to you.”

You still had your face buried in your hands when you felt the bed dip as he came to sit beside you.

“I miss you, you know. You won’t train with me anymore, you won’t come out with me, you won't talk to me. Please, I don’t know what to apologize for if you don’t tell me.”

His voice so close to you made your heart ache. You wanted to just hug him, tell him you missed him too, but you sat paralyzed. He really wasn’t going anywhere until you said something.

You removed your hands from your face, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. You took a long inhale, closing your eyes and trying not to let your voice crack.

“It’s nothing worth me saying aloud,” you muttered, gnawing on your bottom lip. You felt like you needed to, though - like a lump in your throat that you couldn’t cough up.

“Please,” Logan’s voice was quiet, his hand arm coming to rest around your waist.

You squeezed your eyes shut and scrunched your face in an attempt not to cry even harder when he touched you. You had wanted him to for so long, but not like this.

You inhaled sharply, standing up as you did so to pace around your room. You couldn’t sit still with his hand on you.

“I - “, you tried to speak, the words getting lodged in your throat, “ it’s not your fault. I’m not mad at you, it’s not that.”

“Then, what? Tell me. You know I’d do anything to help.”

He would, and that’s what made it all hurt so much worse; how sweet he could be to you. You reminded yourself that he was also probably like that with Jean and you shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the thought.

“It’s so stupid, Logan, really - “

“Pretty girl, it’s not stupid if it’s making you cry.”

Pretty girl. He probably called her that too.

Fuck, you couldn’t get it out of your head no matter how bad you wished you could.

“Ugh,” you groaned, leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling. Maybe it would be easier to spit it out when you weren’t looking at him. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to get it all out in one go.

“A couple weeks ago, I went downstairs in the middle of the night and I saw you and Jean.”

You couldn’t see his expression, but Logan’s eyebrows were furrowed, completely lost on what exactly it was that you saw.

“And it’s so fucking stupid, I know, but I - “, you choked back a sob, “fuck. Logan, I love you. I’m sorry. I’m in love with you, I don’t know how to handle it, not when I know nothings ever gonna happen.”

When you didn’t hear a response, you dreaded the moment you finally tore your eyes from your ceiling. Logan was still in the same spot at the edge of the bed, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Sweet heart - “, he began, but it only hurt you more to hear him call you stuff like that.

“Logan, please, I know, just - I don’t want it to be a big deal and you don’t have to give me the rejection speech, trust me.”

“Are you gonna let me explain?” His tone was mildly frustrated, though he was still clearly worried about you.

You sighed, hands on your hips as you stood almost completely across the room. He got up to meet you where you were. He wanted to put his hands on your shoulders but he could tell you didn’t want to be touched.

“Explain what?” You muttered, gaze glued to the floor when he stood in front of you.

“There’s nothing going on between Jean and I.”

Seeing that your expression never changed, he continued.

“I think I know what you saw. I hugged Jean, that’s what you’re talking about, right?”

You swallowed hard, dreading any details he wanted to spill. You still didn’t believe that there was nothing, convinced he was lying to save your feelings. You nodded anyway, still looking at the floor.

“I gave Jean a hug because her and Scott got into a fight. She said she fucked up and wanted my advice, I hugged her and that was all. Honey, I’m telling you, nothings going on.”

You were nearly turning pink at the realization that he was being truthful.

“And another thing,” he began again, tentatively pulling your hands from your hips so he could hold them in his, “you think I don’t love you?”

You finally met his gaze then and his heart broke when he saw your watery eyes. He brought a hand up to wipe your tears, leaving it there to cup your face while his other still held your hand.

“I love you. I’m in love with you, too. I don’t feel that way about Jean at all. I thought it was obvious, but I guess neither of us have the greatest communication skills, huh?” He laughed a little, nervously waiting for you to finally say something.

You were still soaking in his words, first about Jean and then about you.

“Really?” You squeaked, unable to say anything more.

“Really, baby,” he said sweetly, continuing to wipe away your tears.

You sniffled and leaned into his touch, happy to just be near him again.

“I missed you too, you know. I miss everything about you. I just couldn’t look at you when I thought - I don’t know, when I thought you couldn’t love me like that. Oh god, I’m so stupid, Logan, I’m so sorry - “ you began to apologize and he cut you off, shaking his head.

“None of that, c’mere,” he pulled you into him gently, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to hug you.

You smiled into his t-shirt. You missed the smell of his cologne, the warmth of him, the way he called you sweet names. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, standing on your toes to do so.

“I love you, Princess. I’m so glad I get to say it,” he mumbled into your hair, neither one of you letting go of the other, “and I’m a dumbass for not saying something sooner and letting you think all that.”

“No, I’m a dumbass because I should’ve said something sooner instead of assuming. I was just terrified, I guess.”

“No more being terrified, right?” He pulled away a little to look in your eyes.

You nodded, a smile on your face for the first time in weeks. You both stood there in the middle of your bedroom, frozen in an embrace with your eyes locked on each other.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his hand rubbing up and down your back reassuringly, “you can say no if it’s too soon -“

You leaned up to press your lips to his, not wanting to waste any more time than you already have. He kind of grunted in surprise, relaxing into your touch when you ran your fingers through his hair at the back of his head. It was better than you could have ever imagined. His lips were so soft and he was so gentle with how he held you that your knees could’ve buckled. He pulled away reluctantly after a few seconds, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I didn’t wanna ruin anything,” he explained, tucking your hair behind your ear, “you know, just being with you. I would’ve swallowed it all down to be just your friend if it meant I wouldn't lose you.”

You brought both of your hands to cup his face, scratching lightly at his mutton chops, “Really?”

He nodded, kissing your forehead, your cheek and your lips again. It was sickeningly sweet, making you giggle into the kiss.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’. Just really happy.”

“Me too, pretty girl. Hey, you owe me a couple of movie nights, by the way.”

“Race you to the TV?”

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་

A/N: ik this ones pretty short but it was rotting in my google docs so here u go <3 pls like and reblog if you enjoyed!

#logan howlett #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut

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frannyzooey · 11 months

Text

Short Days, Long Nights: 15

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, teeny tiny lactation kink, Joel being real cute with a baby is it's own warning

A/N: ❤ thank you one million times over to @the-scandalorian who always give the best feedback and advice, to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who is always the most supportive and a special shout out to @mrsquill whose advice and perspective was much needed, being the big beautiful brain she is.

Joel picks his way through the woods, brushing aside the sprawling branches that reach out to catch his shirt. A small bundle tucked against his chest in a makeshift carrier, he’s got one hand splayed across it, protectively shielding it. His boots crunch over fallen twigs, and from within the folds of fabric, June’s dark eyes look up.

Flitting between staring at him and the contrast of the treetops as she takes in the surroundings, dapples of sunlight shift and play across her small face, light catching the swirls of her dark brown curls. When she starts squirming, Joel looks down and smiles at her.

“You ready to get up, baby girl?”

Shifting her in the wrapped sling to face his chest instead of lying down, he makes sure she’s secure before he continues, giving her his thumb to hold onto. Her tiny, chubby hand wraps halfway around it and letting her squeeze it, he strokes the soft skin on the back of her hand.

Carefully placed steps to avoid tripping on anything, his boots follow his normal hunting path, only this time he’s not hunting: he’s taking her for their daily walk.

Starting as something he’d hoped would calm her down during her early days, he’s taken to walking all over the place with her while you nap in the afternoons. Never far enough that he couldn’t get back quickly if he needed to, they’ve explored every inch of the woods surrounding the cabin. Sometimes she’s fussy, sometimes she’s still, and sometimes - like today - she’s alert and awake, lifting her head off his chest to peek at the world around her.

“You hear that, baby girl? You hear that bird singin’ to you?”

He talks to her without even realizing it, a constant, soothing murmur.

His lips brush the downy crown of her hair, dragging back and forth just to feel the tickle of softness and he presses a kiss there, turning back towards home.

Home.

He’d begun calling it that while talking out loud to her and then kept saying it, because it was true. This was his home, and hers, and yours. One that, even though summer had begun and she was now here, had become impossible to leave.

He had agreed to stay until she was born, but with every day that passed, he couldn’t bring himself to move forward with the plan. Days had slid together, weeks blurring as he helped care for her while you healed and he knew you wouldn’t be able to make the trek then, so he said nothing. Another month passed after that, and he thought about it - he really did - but couldn’t quite reconcile the concept of a potential threat with the present sense of safety. The danger that had seemed so immediate and imminent and threatening had faded into the background, giving way to the quiet routine of life, and the three of you continued on.

The map was still in the cabin, as a reminder of what was waiting out there, but so were other things:

Her, in her cradle in the corner of the room along with the pillowcase that she’s taken to sleeping with, in lieu of a baby blanket.

You, on the living room floor, your smile blinding as you stretched out next to her wriggling body in the afternoons.

Her basket on the edge of your garden: you working, her small fists stretching and flexing towards the sky, visible just over the wicker rim.

For someone who had little to no experience with it, you’d taken to motherhood like you’d done it all before. The birth, nursing, adjusting to a new sleep schedule, learning what every one of her cries meant and just how to soothe it. A seemingly deep reserve of patience held within you, your constant resourcefulness when it came to everything you had both on hand and inside yourself, he finds he loves you even more than he did before.

Constantly impressed and humbled by this new version of you emerging right in front of him, he tries to let you both know how he feels in his own, wordless ways: referring to and respecting your knowledge and guidance when it comes to planting, delicate brushes of his hand on the small of your back while you talk with him in the kitchen, stopping you while you do chores to guide your mouth to his in a kiss of appreciation. Rocking June to sleep when she wakes, washing her clothes in the river, taking her for walks.

So accustomed to thinking of his own body as a weapon, spending years using it as a means of protecting those he loves, he’s found an entirely new use for it right alongside yours: familiar, tender motions he thought were lost coming to the surface.

Emerging from the woods, the familiar slope of your land comes into view and he makes his way down to the edge of the water. His boots sink into the soft give of the sand, a trail of impressions left behind him, and he drops down to a crouch before fully sitting down. Unwinding the fabric tied around his shoulder, he gently eases June out of the carrier.

Delicate yet steady in his hold on her, he props his forearms on his knees and lifts her so they are face to face.

“How much did you sleep last night?” he asks, a deep frown settling between his brows. Dark bags show under his eyes, and she wriggles in his grip, her legs kicking.

“Felt like you didn’t sleep at all. Keepin’ us up all night with your fussin’.”

She pays no mind to the stern look on his face, the gentle tone of his words in contrast with their scolding, and his lips brush against her cheek, her mouth opening to chase his with a babbling, wet sound.

“You’re cute, baby girl, but you ain’t that cute. You gotta let us sleep.”

She lets out a soft cry, and he chuckles.

“Okay, I take it back. You are that cute.”

They look at each other for a moment, her small, dark eyes studying his larger ones and a familiar glint of hazel captures his breath for a moment, his heart seizing.

Identical to Sarah’s color, the likeness flits through them almost faster than he can catch it, though it doesn’t stop him from staring intently at June in hopes of it coming back. She blinks and looks away, her body flexing in a stretch.

“I saw you,” he says quietly, to himself.

June’s eyes come back to him at the sound of his voice, and the corner of his mouth lifts.

“I think your big sister was just sayin’ hi, pretty girl.”

Impossible to ignore since the moment she came into the world and he caught her in his hands, he saw Sarah in June all the time. Every day: sometimes in her eyes, in her expressions, in her movements. He knew June was her own being, a mixture of himself and you that he loved. His eyes, the shape of your face. His dark hair, your smile. But when he caught glimpses of Sarah in her, he immediately chased the fleeting image before he could think about how much it would hurt to see it. Another chance to see her again, at any cost.

Introducing the memory of Sarah to June as her “big sister,” a burden was lifted from his chest the day he started speaking about her. With nothing but the solitude of the woods around them and her tiny ears to hear his words, once he started, he couldn’t stop.

Years of buried memories, of guilt, of confessions and apologies as his heart ached recounting the things he’d done. All of them laid bare to June, who absorbed them with quiet fascination at the low, rumbling voice of her father. The words meaningless to her and received without the judgment of someone who would actually understand what he was saying, everything came pouring out.

Everything he’d done, everything he regretted, everything he missed.

Once those were let out into the world, he focused on the good: Sarah’s love for soccer, for animals, her stubborn streak that matched his own. Her sense of humor, her girliness, vacations they took and their time spent together.

Emerging from the depths he’d buried it under long ago, Sarah’s memory grew stronger every day and he was surprised to find that it hurt… less than it used to. Something he used to avoid due to the sheer pain that would come alongside the memories, he now seeks them out, to relive them in a new light. Basking in this second chance with her, he looks forward to seeing her in any way she appears in this life.

“You think your momma’s up yet?” he asks. “Or should we give her a little bit more time?”

He waits for an answer he knows isn’t coming, but he studies June’s face like it is, eventually answering himself with a nod.

“More time, I think. You’re right.”

Turning her to face the water, he places her in his lap and with sunlight flooding the bank, they sit and look at the water together.

–

You feel as though you could sleep forever.

Your heavy eyes blinking open, you stay in place and listen. Silence, which means they must still be out and rolling onto your side, you sink deeper under the thin quilt. Exhaustion blankets you, pulling your eyes shut.

Tired. So tired, more tired than you’ve ever been in your life. He catches naps whenever he can, seemingly able to fall asleep for a moment whenever and wherever in the way older men do, but not you. Your mind is a constant whirring machine of what needs to be done next and it takes forever to turn off, but last night she was up for ages, and so when he told you to take a nap, you crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Your face brushing the cool cotton of his pillowcase, you bury your nose into it, inhaling. A need flickers to life inside you, slowly unfurling under the heaviness of your limbs and you wish he was lying in bed with you right now.

In the morning sometimes when she’s in her cradle, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and breathe deeply, letting your lips catch the edge of his whiskers. When you seek out his skin, he rolls to face you with still closed eyes but finds you just the same.

Still, they are kisses that only awaken, never slake. Early morning sleep soft kisses. Warm skin under wandering hands, until she cries. Never any time to linger in the morning, you can still taste the firm press of his mouth against yours if you try hard enough and the memory of yesterday slips into your sleep-hazed mind, the edges fuzzy and soft.

“What’s this for?”, you hummed, leaning back into him.

His mouth rested on your neck, his lips molding to the slope of it. One kiss, another and his tongue slipped out, tasting your skin.

“Jus’ missed you. Thinkin’ about you.”

“Oh yea? What were you thinking about?”

He kissed your neck again, letting his mouth rest just under your ear. “ ‘Bout the other night.”

The other night: when he held his hand over your mouth and worked you with his fingers over your soaked panties until you came with a broken cry, right before kneeling next to you on the bed to watch you jerk him to completion onto your stomach. Afterwards, he smeared it around and you licked the spend from his fingers.

“That was nice,” you smiled, turning to face him. Threading your fingers through his curls, you offered your mouth to him and he took it, his own need apparent in the way it moved against yours—telling and deep.

Just the two of you for so long before June came along, it felt good to be reminded that he still wanted you like that: as a woman, instead of just a mother. The new role unfamiliar and flooded with a constant rollercoaster of shifting emotions, it was hard to navigate this version of yourself, and even harder to articulate those emotions into words. Joy like you’ve never known blended with bone weary exhaustion and pain. A fierce need to prove to yourself that you could do this, while still wanting him to take the lead. A new found self-pride laced with frustration and sadness and an ache for the way your relationship used to be.

All of these emotions, fading away to be replaced by a happiness you never thought possible whenever you looked at June.

He’s helped you navigate it all, just like he’s always helped you navigate: the group when you had one, dangerous routes when you used to take them, this new life when you made the suggestion. Jackson, should he ever bring it up again. The possibility of leaving was something you hoped every day that he’d forgotten about, but you didn’t dare bring up the subject in case he hadn’t. You weren’t ready. Not yet.

With the idea of sleeping on the hard ground making the comforting cloud of your bed hard to leave, you eventually rise and peek out the window in search of them. The broad expanse of his back sits down by the water, and you see him lift her to face him, murmuring words you can’t hear.

A delicacy to his touch and another side to his competence that you’d never have seen without her, Joel Miller the dad was someone you felt lucky to witness, but the thought of Joel Miller the man was the one that had your eyes lingering on his shoulders and the flex of his biceps under the material of his shirt.

Recalling his kiss from earlier that morning, you walk out of the room to go greet them.

–

“How old are you going to be when she’s ten?”

He groans, closing his eyes. “Christ, don’ ask me that.”

You giggle, and he peeks an eye open at you.

“Your daddy is gonna be wearin’ diapers soon,” you coo down at June, and he’s quick with his reply.

“Who says I don’t already?”

Your playful giggle turns into a full laugh.

“Smart-ass,” he grumbles, a good natured grin at the edge of his lips.

He leans back into the worn couch, letting his head tilt to the side as he watches the two of you on the floor in front of him. The days getting longer with the time of year, evening sunlight streams in through the windows you washed earlier that day and its rays fill the room with enough light to see. The windows open, a breeze flows through.

Rolling from your side onto your stomach, his gaze drifts from the curve of your cheek to the small round of your shoulder, to the wide open expression of pure contentment and love on your face as you coo a soothing murmur of nonsense down at June. She eats it up, her limbs kicking in jerky, excited movements in her splay on her back and she is transfixed by your face, alert and focused.

Filled with gratitude, he’s silent for a moment as he just…watches.

Your finger dangles over June’s grasping hand until she takes it and wiggling it with a smile and a tease, you take it from her and dance your fingers down her belly, tickling. Her tiny body kicks in response, never ceasing in its movement.

An overlay of his shitty QZ apartment blankets the room, and he immediately rejects the image, knowing you don’t belong there. The concrete he's slept on and the endless things he’s done to survive flood his mind and a simultaneous reaction wars within him: guilt, at the idea he doesn’t deserve this life after everything he’s done, and the answering fierce urge to defend it, making sure no one ever takes it away from him.

“You thinking about it?”

Your question drags him to the present, and he frowns.

“Leaving,” you clarify. You look down, your expression turning solemn. “You were quiet for a while,” you say quietly. “I thought maybe you finally remembered.”

Reading the tone in which you deliver your hesitant statement as dreading something inevitable, he’s honest in his reply in hopes to soothe you.

“No,” he says. “I actually haven’t thought about it in awhile. Not seriously, anyway.”

Your eyes lift to meet his and the hope you’re trying to conceal in your expression almost breaks him.

“You were right,” he continues. “We got the garden up and runnin’, got everything all setup like we like. Got a safe place for her.” His chin tilts towards June, her fists flailing in exploration until you catch one in your hold.

“And if someone comes?” you broach hesitantly.

His jaw shifts, his eyes drifting down to June. “If someone comes, I’ll deal with ‘em.”

He will.

There is a finality in his tone, even if he isn’t sure it’s a promise he can make, but it feels right saying out loud. You belong here, she belongs here and he can’t let anyone take that away, not even himself.

You say nothing, searching for the truth on his face and when you find it, the edge of your mouth lifts in disbelief.

“Joel Miller, the optimist,” you tease.

Because of you, he immediately thinks. Instead, he teases right back.

“What, you think I can’t?”

You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes. Your playful expression faltering after a moment, your attention shifts to June and a telltale trembling of your lip catches his eye as you avoid his gaze. Knowing you’re purposefully not looking at him because you’re self conscious about how easy it is to make you cry after June’s birth, he leans forward and drops down to join you on the floor.

“Hey,” he says softly, crawling over and reaching out over her body to grasp your chin. “Hey now.”

You let him guide your face to his, and he sees he's right. A tear rolls smoothly down your cheek and his frown softens with his voice.

“I would never let anything happen to you, honey. Either of you.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you start, your breath shuddering. You swallow and then surprise him with a watery laugh. “I’m not – I’m not scared of that. I’m just –” you sniffle again, blinking free another tear. “I’m just so happy.”

A sob breaks free on the last word and the contrast of your statement with your reaction makes him laugh, which in turn makes you laugh through another sob. Then, a new sound blends into it from beneath the two of you, one that makes you both stop.

“Did she just –” your breathing hitches, and you look from her to him. “Did she just laugh?”

The first time it’s ever happened, she does it again when you laugh in astonished, watery joy and it only makes you sob harder, tucking your face into the crook of your elbow.

“She’s laughin’ at you,” he chuckles, splaying his hand wide over her belly, grinning down at her with deep dimples.

Taking a deep breath and wiping your eyes on your sleeve, you smile down at June.

“Your daddy is gonna let us stay,” you say to her, your voice thick with tears and joy as you sniff again.

“Only ‘cause your momma has made us such a good home.”

Teasing words covering true, deep emotions, he looks at you and with tears still clinging to your wet lashes, he thinks you might be one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. So much love shines through your gaze that the intensity of it is almost overwhelming, but he doesn’t look away. He meets it, unwavering.

“Joel,” you start, slipping your hand over his where it still rests on her belly, covering it with a squeeze. “If you ever want to go, I’ll go. I’d follow you wherever. Here, Jackson, somewhere else. Anywhere else. I trust you.”

Not trusting himself to speak without his voice breaking, he just lifts the corner of his mouth and nods before bending his head to press a kiss to the back of your hand.

A silent devotional action, to the one who has given him everything.

Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you go back to trying to make June laugh and he watches the two of you from his place on the floor, stretched out alongside you.

How could he leave?

—

Attempting to summon the courage while tugging at the silken fabric to make sure it covers all the parts of yourself that you are unsure of, you stare at your reflection in the mirror; his low singing voice coming from June’s room.

All day, you’ve secretly ached for him.

A fire ignited every time you saw him with her: holding her, cradling her, one hand across her chest as she slept next to him on the couch while he read. And without: the short, dark strands of hair at the nape of his tanned neck, the little slice of skin above the waistband of his jeans that peeked out when he crouched. His thick forearms, his firm thighs.

An ache that had been present since you woke up this morning, you’ve missed the man he is: his body, his skillful touch, his masculine, solid form moving against yours. A while since she’s gone down this early, you want to take advantage of the gift of time and show him how much you’ve missed him…but there is still a slight insecurity about this changed body of yours.

Smoothing your hands over the lace that rests over your cleavage as you look some more, the soft scuff of his boots across the floor as he enters the bedroom has you immediately second guessing, quickly turning for your robe.

“She went down okay,“ he says tiredly, scrubbing his hand down his face. He tugs his shirt off with a one handed hold behind his back, kicking off his boots while unbuckling his jeans. Shucking them off to drape them over the chair in the corner, he looks up at your silence.

Frozen in front of him, your hands clutch the robe together.

“You okay?” he asks, his tired expression knit with concern.

“That was quicker than I thought.”

He huffs, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not complain’.”

“Neither am I, I just –” your hands fiddle with the thick material, your teeth tugging on your bottom lip. “I just wasn’t ready for you.”

Studying your face, he tilts his head up, lifting an eyebrow. “Ready for me?” His eyes drop down your body, his posture straightening with interest. “You got somethin’ under there?”

You hesitate for a moment. “Turn out the light first?”

His eyes darken at your answer and he slowly leans to the side, reaching to turn the lantern down. The room descends into a shadowed version of itself, everything bathed in dim warmth and he settles back into position, waiting.

Taking a deep breath and feeling braver in the darkness of the room, you open the robe and let it fall to the floor.

“What’s all this?” he asks, his husky drawl low and slow.

Stepping between his thighs, you take his larger hand in your smaller one and place it over your side, encouraging him to touch. He splays his fingers, searching for the heat of your skin through the thin material and gliding his hold up until his thumb drags lightly across your nipple, his eyes watch as it pebbles under the silk. Arching slightly into his touch, he takes your lead and tenderly palms the weight of your breast.

Hooded, his eyes stay fixed on his hand. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it months ago,” you reply, your tone breathy and warm from the delicate brush of his fingertips over the fabric.

He hums, letting his hand drag down your sternum with weighted exploration, curling firmly around your hip to pull you closer.

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” he asks in disbelief, immediately looking up at you. He bunches the silk in his fists, pulling it tight against your body. His throat bobs, his tongue dragging across his bottom lip as his eyes make a circuit down the length of you and back up.

“My pretty girl, all dressed up for me. How could I not?”

Bending down for a kiss, you place your hands on his shoulders and the hunger in the way he presses his mouth against yours betrays every thought running through his mind. Suddenly more awake than he seemed, he can’t stop shifting his hold on you: his mouth taking and taking, while his hands touch everything he can reach.

When they get to the hem of the nighty and pull it up over your ass, he groans into your mouth when he finds nothing but bare skin underneath.

“Nothin’ underneath? You’re such a good fuckin’ girl,” he breathes against your mouth, right before capturing it again in a devouring kiss. Leaving you breathless, he follows the column of your throat with a whiskery scrape of his beard against your skin, and works his way down, his humid breath ghosting over the tops of your breasts as he gives every inch of skin he finds an open mouthed kiss.

Slipping the shoulder strap down, the fabric falls away and he takes your nipple into his mouth immediately. Letting out a low moan with a pinched frown of pleasure, his eyes close and he draws from you: his hand coming up to cradle the underside of your breast, pushing more into his mouth as he swirls his tongue over the sensitive peak. His other hand digs into the curve of your hip, keeping you in place. Holding on, like you’re the anchor.

Your fingers bury themselves in his soft curls, and he groans. Pulling back, a glimmer of something white is smeared on his lower lip, and his tongue darts out to taste the drop of liquid.

“Takin’ care of my baby, with this perfect fuckin’ body.”

Soaked in worship, his words have you climbing onto his lap as he guides you in place and gathering you into his arms, he tugs your knee up to force you into a straddle over his thighs. Deepening his kiss with an inviting, slick slide of his tongue against yours, a low hum pours out of your throat and you grind against him, seeking the warm heft between his thighs until he shifts and rolls you onto your back, laying you out underneath him.

His humid breath consumes you, the scent of his skin filling your senses. The firm rounds of his shoulders bunch under your touch, his biceps flexing in their strain as he moves above you and his solid torso presses against yours, forcing you into the mattress. His mouth never ceases and neither does yours, every part of your bodies seeking the other out to move in a mimic of the act itself and winding your legs around his waist, he grinds himself against you until you’re whiny and restless underneath him, your cunt slick and soaked against his cotton briefs. When you start to shove them down his hips, he helps.

Tugging them down and kicking them off, his cock drags along the inside of your thigh when he lowers himself back over you.

“I need you inside me,” you moan, reaching for him. “I want it.”

“Yea? You want my cock?”

“I’ve wanted it all day. All day while I’ve watched you.”

His hand joins yours to guide him to your aching entrance, and when the thick, rounded tip of his cock starts to make room for itself, you let out simultaneous groans of relief when he slides in. A singular smooth, filling and fluid stroke, all the way to the base.

“God yes, just like that,’ you plead, and he’s quick to soothe.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, my girl. I got you. I got you.”

Your mind already lost in a haze of need, the whole-body relief you feel is intoxicating, and yet his fullness inside you is only half of what you want. You want to feel desired, like he wants you just as bad as you’ve wanted him and to feel it, you know you need his roughness. The harder edges of his lust, the ones he’s been holding back from you since you gave birth.

You want to taste desperation in his kisses, to feel it in his hold, to have him force it into the slick fist of your cunt because he just can’t help it - and you get what you want the second he starts moving.

“I can’t believe you wore this for me,” he breathes above you, his hand catching the edge of the silk to pull it down and expose both your breasts. He watches them bounce for a moment, moving with every thrust of his hips and then he bends to latch his mouth onto one, the hard suction of it making you moan. Cradling the back of his head, you push yourself into the sensation.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, and all mine. All for me. Ain’t that right?”

His hips rock against yours, the tip of his cock sliding against that deep spot that’s been aching for him all day and you push your head back into the pillow, forcing your hips up to meet every one of his downward strokes.

“God yes,” you pant. “All yours. Only yours.”

“S’fuckin right. My girl. Lookin’ this pretty just for me.”

He brings his mouth down next to your ear as his hips keep moving. “Pussy this wet, just for me.”

You nod, and fitting his face into your neck, he rewards you an open mouthed kiss laced with a groan. He sucks at your skin, his teeth dragging over your pulse and then his mouth finds yours, forcing it open just like he’s forcing you open to take everything he’s giving. Every weighted stroke, every full push inside.

You like his words, but you like this just as much: when he’s so focused on how you feel around him and underneath him that he can’t speak, and you get to swallow his harsh pants and low grunts instead.

Your thighs hitch higher around his torso, your ankles resting on his back and you can feel his muscles shift and flex under your heels, working, working, working. The intensity of your release builds, a fire that’s been banked all day finally being stoked brighter and hotter and he picks up his pace, his arm pushing underneath your back to hook his hand around your shoulder, keeping you in place beneath him. Buried under the weight of his body, you relish being used.

Still just as sensitive as when you were pregnant, fast - so fast - you feel the first ripple of your oncoming release wash over your skin.

“You’re gonna make me come,” you plead, trying to keep quiet.

“Come on, honey,” he encourages it, pressing a thick kiss just under your ear. “Lemme feel it.”

Everything tightening between your hips, a syrupy warmth fills the bowl of your pelvis until it’s too intense and overwhelming and filling — and then it bursts bright and wet, your thighs squeezing his torso as he grunts through every rough stroke that sees you through it.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he groans before kissing you. He pushes in harder, faster, pounding into the slick fist of your sated cunt.

“You want another one?” he asks, breathless and panting, the curl of a smug smile at the edge of his mouth. “Think you can do it again?”

You can’t speak, your mouth parted in a fixed shape as you focus on how he feels inside you right now and when he slips a hand underneath your tailbone to angle you just right, he focuses his strokes downward, causing you to cry out.

“Shhhh, honey. S’okay. You can take it. Gimme another one.”

His voice is lost in the fuzzy edges of your mind, the only thing coming through the soothing tone as he makes you take what he’s giving and when you start to lock up underneath him again, the smile on his face this time is more apparent than the first one. When you start to come, he looks almost proud.

Your nails dig into the meat of his ass, forcing him deeper and he bends and bites the underside of your breast as he picks up his pace. His hands bunching in the sheets, he fucks you harder, faster, and when his hips begin to stutter in their rhythm, you know he’s close.

“Goddamnit,” he groans when you come around him, never stilling in his movement above you.

Frantically needing him to feel as good as he just made you feel, you dig your hold into the meat along his ribs and hold him in place above you, your hips pushing up to work against his. Matching his every stroke down with your own, his eyes shut tight against the sensation he tries not to give into.

“I’m gonna come inside you if you don’t stop,” he warns, the words a tortured groan.

Knowing you can’t do that, you move quickly underneath him, pushing your hands against his chest until he lifts just enough for you to frantically slide down the bed. His slick, stiff cock drags up your belly and along the plane of your chest, brushing against your chin right before you take it into your mouth and when you wrap your lips around it with a firm suck, the groan he lets out is loud and involuntary, his hips bucking forward.

His hand buries itself into your hair, his fist pulling painfully at the roots when he pushes himself in down to the base and you feel his belly jerk with a tremble right before he pours hot and sticky along the back of your tongue. His release is endless, filling your mouth as he stretches out rigid next to you and you swallow every single drop, your throat working as you hold him close.

Working the dregs of it out with a slow roll of his hips into your face, you finally pull off when he relaxes into the mattress with a soft groan. Peppering kisses along the tops of his thighs, you slowly ascend the body you’ve been aching for all day and his hands run lazily over your skin, making room for you to crawl into bed beside him.

“That was…somethin’,” he sighs, a slow spreading smile gracing his face when he turns his head to look at you and you prop yourself up on your elbow, running your fingers through the hair just under his navel.

Catching your hand, he brings it to his mouth with a kiss.

Laying in silence together, the sounds of the night filter in through the open window on the soft breeze that tickles your sweat damp skin. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent you’d been dreaming about all day straight from the source and your bodies slowly relax together, entwined.

When you feel his breathing even out into a slow rise and fall, you peek up at his face. Taking a moment to admire the profile of his nose, his long dark lashes, the gray gathered at his temples, you run the pad of your thumb across his bottom lip in a feather light touch. In his sleep, his lips purse as they chase the sensation and you smile, the movement so like June when you do the same thing to her.

Leaning forward to give him one last kiss, you reach over him and turn out the light.

#joel miller #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader

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