#how do fill the empty void in your chest? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soaps-mohawk · 8 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 23: Regrets

Summary: Depression: a common mental health condition characterized by a low mood or loss of pleasure or interest in activities for long periods of time.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,940

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, mental illness, depression, very heavy emotionally, angst, Johnny gets his feelings hurt (but only for a moment), angst, everyone is having big emotions, Bella Swan-esque sad montage, angst, kissing, slight suggestive content, angst

A/N: Did I completely rewrite part of this during the editing process? Yes. Are you going to thank me for that? Also yes. I'm trying something a bit different with this chapter, so let me know what you think. It probably won't be a regular thing, but I just thought I'd give it a test and this chapter was the perfect time to do that.

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They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

They’re right. There’s a hole in your chest, an empty void. The squeaking of your shoes on the tiles sounds far away as you numbly walk back towards your room.

“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks cautiously as you pause in front of your door long enough to turn the handle.

You turn to look up at him, his brows pinched and his eyes shining with concern. “He's gone.” Your voice cracks and shakes, breaking over the words like you're speaking the finality of the situation.

You are.

“I know.” Johnny reaches out, his fingers wrapping around your arm. “I wish there had been more warning, but this is usually how his solo assignments go.”

You swallow thickly. “He'll come back, right?”

Johnny grimaces. “Ye know I can't promise that. But, there's no one quite as capable in the field as him, except maybe Price.” Johnny squeezes your arm gently. “He’s been doing this for a long time, kitten. Have faith in that, and his skills.”

Johnny’s words do nothing to help the turmoil inside you, the fear and anxiety. One split second mistake, one wrong decision and you know it could be over. Everything could be over before it even started. Why didn’t you confront him sooner? Why didn’t you pick up on his true feelings, his emotions as quickly as he seemed to decipher yours? It’s not fair that they can be taken from you so easily and so quickly. There’s no room for argument, no room for any begging or pleading for them to stay. They have a job, and they’ll always choose that job over you.

“Ye gonna be alright?” Johnny asks, letting his hand fall from your arm as you push open your door, entering your room before closing it in immediately, clicking the lock into place. You lean against the door for a moment, biting your lip to try and stop the tears as you begin to shiver from the dampness of your clothes.

You leave your shoes in a pile next to the door before you pad silently to your bathroom, stripping off your clothes once you hit the tile. You’re shivering, a cold chill starting to seep into your very bones as you start the tub, letting it fill with water. The tears blur your vision, dripping into the steaming water as you sink into the bath. You can’t stop the tears as you sit there, not caring how hot the water is, not caring how it makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. You’ll take the pain, the discomfort. Anything to ease the pain that’s ripping your chest wide open.

It hurts, he won’t lie, when you close the door in his face. Well, it wasn’t entirely in his face. He was a foot away from the door, but it still causes a little ache in his chest, a little upset in his mind that you just cut him off like that. The click of the lock is like a finality, the gavel falling on your decision to distance yourself for now.

The rejection of his offer for comfort has his beta stirring uncomfortably in his mind. Tears fill his own eyes as he stares at the handle of your door, wishing he could reach out and grab it, fling it open and take you into his arms and hold you until you stop crying, until the pain of Simon’s sudden absence goes away.

“Come on.” John says quietly, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “Give her some time.”

He lets John lead him away from your door and back towards the rec room. He shouldn’t be so hurt by your abrupt dismissal. You were quite obviously upset, upset enough to run out into the rain after Simon. He saw you race out the door, his stomach clenching in worry, but thankfully the rain had forced most inside. There was little threat to you, not with Simon there, but he had been worried you might not be able to catch him, that you might run blindly into the rain to try and find him.

He had spotted the tears trailing down your cheeks as you walked back to the barracks, mixing with the rain that soaked straight through you. He’s used to his alpha having to leave suddenly, the distance and the worry are second nature now thanks to their jobs, their lifestyles. You’ve never been through this before with him, though, and so soon after the two of you were finally beginning to give in. It’s like a curse. They begin to get close to you, and then suddenly they’re ripped away.

He almost feels guilty, like he’s responsible for your pain. If he hadn’t forced it, if he hadn’t put you both in that position, maybe you wouldn’t be so upset. He couldn’t have known, though, that Simon would be called away like that. It could happen at any time, they all know that. They always have to be ready, always have to be prepared to be called out. Even on leave they can’t guarantee there won’t be an emergency. It’s just the nature of their job.

It wouldn’t have bothered any of them before you.

“She didn't take it well, did she?” Kyle says as John guides Johnny to sit on the couch next to him.

“Christ, she's so upset.” Johnny says, leaning his head in his hands. “If I hadnae pushed them, then this wouldn't have happened.”

“You couldn't have known this was going to happen.” Kyle says, squishing Johnny between him and John to try and comfort the upset beta.

“We didn't even know until a couple of hours ago.” John says, draping his arm across the back of the couch.

“If she's this upset at one of us leaving...how upset was she when we all left?” Johnny says, his stomach churning at the thought. No wonder you were so shaken when they came back.

“The best thing we can do right now is leave her alone and let her do what she needs to do.” John says, pulling Johnny so he's resting against his chest. “She'll come out when she's ready.”

The afternoon comes and goes, the rain slowing to a light drizzle. You still haven’t left your room, sealed inside, secluded from them. Johnny casts the closed door a wistful look every time he walks down the hallway, half tempted to try the knob and see if it’s been unlocked, but he stops himself. The last thing you need is to be scared by someone trying to get in. John is right. You’ll come out when you’re ready.

John knocks on your door as they get ready to head to dinner, waiting a moment for some type of response. “We’re going to dinner, sweetheart.” He says through the door when there’s no answer to his knock. “Do you want us to bring you something?”

There’s a quiet noise from your room, some muffled response to John’s question.

“We’ll be back soon.” John says, somehow able to make out what it is you said. Or maybe his plan was to bring you something regardless of whether you agreed or not.

It feels strange, just the three of them walking to the mess. It’s not the first time they’ve gone just the three of them, but it feels different this time. It’s not Simon’s missing presence that weighs so heavily, it’s yours.

There’s a tenseness that’s settled over them as they sit at the table, avoiding eye contact with each other. Simon’s empty space at the table wouldn’t have felt so much like an empty chasm if you had been there to fill some of it.

They’re not sure what to do, the feeling similar to what they felt upon their return. They knew it would be bad, but they hadn’t expected you to be in shambles like you were. Their pack mate is hurting, their omega is hurting, and there’s nothing they can do. They don’t know what to do. Johnny wants to kick in your door, rush into your room and envelop you in a hug so tight you’ll complain that you can't breathe. He just wants to help you, but that’s not what you want, what you need right now.

He knows it’s his beta instincts, his need to comfort and soothe and support. If Kyle is feeling the same way, which Johnny knows he has to be, he’s hiding it well. Though, perhaps that’s just for his sake and John’s. He can’t even imagine what John is going through, knowing his omega is suffering in such a way.

All because Simon is gone.

How easily one missing piece could tear the pack apart. If something happened to one of them, or god forbid something happened to you, they might not be able to recover. They had always assumed their training would win out, that they could move past it in the way they would had there been nothing but the bonds of camaraderie between them.

How silly that idea had been.

It’s no secret death disrupts pack stability, shakes the bonds that tie a pack together. He remembers how his Grannie’s death had shaken his family for weeks and it had taken months to return to what could be considered normal after a partially expected death of a member of the pack. What kind of damage would an unexpected and sudden death do to a pack?

Johnny shakes the thought from his head. There was always a risk. They all knew that, they all agreed to that when they signed up. He knows Simon is highly skilled, well accustomed to working alone, to completing solo assignments successfully. The risk of something happening was always high, but he trusts Simon and puts faith in his skills.

John goes back through the line once they finish, making a tray for you and piling it high as usual. It always makes him happy to see how well cared for you really are. Despite the circumstances of you being added to their pack, he knows it could have been so much worse. There’s worse packs, worse alphas out there. At least with them, you’re an equal. You’re their precious omega, and they’d make anyone who threatened you regret that decision.

John is surprised the handle turns when he tries it. You’ve gotten up at least, but he’s not surprised to find you back in the same place you’ve likely been all day. He closes the door behind him before moving to your bed, setting the tray of food down on your nightstand. You squint as he flicks the lamp on, reaching up to rub your eyes. The bed dips as he sits on the edge, a quiet sigh leaving his lips.

“I know this is hard for you.” He says softly, brushing his fingers across your bare arm. Your skin is warm, likely from being burrowed under the blankets. “I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now.”

“He's gone.” You say quietly, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Just for a while.” He says. “He’ll be back.”

“But you can’t promise that.” You argue, pushing yourself up to sit. Your cheeks are still damp with tears, eyes red and lips still trembling.

“There’s always a risk,” He says softly. “But you have to trust Simon. He’s not going down without a fight.” He sighs quietly as your gaze drops to your hands, your fingers picking at the skin around your fingers. He slips his hand into yours, stopping you from continuing. “What’s eating you?”

“I should have told him.” You sniffle, your eyes on his hand as your fingers close around it. .

“Told him what?” He prods gently, curiously.

“That I love him.” You say, lifting your gaze to look at him. “I should have said it but I didn’t and now what if he doesn’t come back? I love all of you, and I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” The words end in a sob, tears sliding down your cheeks again.

Your words take him by surprise. It’s no secret how they feel about you, how their feelings have grown from curiosity to companionship to attraction and now to love. All of them have come to love you in their own ways, even Simon in his resistance wasn’t immune to his feelings, to their shared feelings towards you.

“Look at me.” He cups your face gently, his thumbs wiping the falling tears. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way, I wish they hadn't picked us to be first for this. It's not fair to you, it's not fair to put you through this. I wouldn't change having you as my omega, but forcing you to live like this, to be left behind with the worry over something none of us can control.” He shakes his head. “It was a selfish decision by those who created the initiative.”

“What...what happens if the initiative fails?” You ask softly.

“We’re not giving you up.” He says, holding your gaze. “We wouldn’t want to, and we wouldn’t let it happen. You’ve been part of this pack since the day you stepped foot on this base. We wouldn’t have let you go then, and we sure as hell won’t now.”

Your breathing is shaky as you stare at him, and he can see the wheels turning in your head, the hesitation as you debate whether you want to speak. He hates that you still feel this way, that you have to hide your thoughts from them out of fear or worry that they might be angered by them. He’s not sure there’s anything you could say that would anger him.

“Would you ever leave for me?” You speak the words slowly, hesitantly, like they might bite you if you're not careful.

He's not expecting it, though he has wondered if you'd ever ask it of them. If it might come to be too much and it leaves you no choice but to ask, to give them the ultimatum. He lets out a breath, all the answers he'd thought up in response gone as he sits face to face with you, as he faces this question out in the open for the first time. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you stare at him, taking his silence as second thoughts, as possible rejection.

“Please be honest with me.” You whisper shakily, a tear slipping down your cheek.

He watches its path as it slides down your cheek, pausing at the line of your jaw before it drips down onto your shirt. He lifts his gaze back to yours, the pain in them stabbing straight into his heart. He wants to say yes, that he'd leave in a heartbeat, give up what he'd worked his whole life to achieve, all for an omega. His omega.

He wouldn't be able to sleep at night, knowing the kind of evils that exist in the world, the kinds of threats that linger in the dark. The evils that may pose a threat to you and his pack. You’ll never be truly safe, not so long as there’s others who know of your existence. Very few of them he’d truly trust with the knowledge that you pose a threat to their efficiency as a team, a weakness that could be exploited.

What bloody fucking fools they were, leaving you alone like that.

“Part of me wants to say no,” He admits honestly, ignoring the flash of pain in your eyes. “But it would depend on the situation. If your life was ever in danger because of us, then without question. If the initiative fails, if we can't adjust, then we may have no other choice.”

“The job comes first.” You say quietly, sounding defeated.

“But there may come a time when it doesn't.” He says, trying to reassure you. “Don't worry about that too much right now.” He brushes a hand over your hair. “If a situation arises, then we'll talk about it further.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You lean into him, letting out a quiet breath. He pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I love you too.” He says, his lips brushing the top of your head. “And Simon knows how you feel.”

You shift in his arms, pulling back just slightly to stare up at him. Your brows are pinched as you stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Simon is very good at reading people. Their scents, their emotions, their body language. Years of training paired with his own natural abilities.” He smiles softly at you. “He knows how you feel.”

“Oh,” You say, shrinking into yourself.

“He'll likely convince himself it's not true, knowing him and how he thinks. You'll have to tell him to make him believe it.” He pats your leg under the blankets. “Don't worry too much about him. He'll be back before you know it.” He pushes himself up to stand. “Eat your dinner. We'll be around if you need anything.”

“John?” You ask, stopping him before he can leave.

He turns back around to face you. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” You say. “For everything.”

A small smile pulls at his lips. “Of course.”

You're just stepping out of the bathroom when the knock sounds on your door. You had gotten up to rinse your face with cold water, your skin starting to feel tight and itchy after nearly an entire day of uncontrollable tears. You freeze at the sound of knuckles tapping on the wood, your heart leaping into your chest. Is it one of the guys coming to tell you bad news? Has something happened to Simon?

Or is he coming back already?

You’re half scared, half hopeful as you make the short journey across your room to the door. You feel like you’re moving in slow motion as your fingers close around the handle, slowly pulling it open.

Johnny is standing on the other side, his face a mix of worry and sadness. It doesn’t help the despair already starting to manifest in you. Something must have happened to Simon. Something’s gone wrong. He’s not coming back, or they’ll have to leave to help him.

“Ye doin’ alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, his brows furrowing as he stares at you.

“Yeah.” You can’t help but wince at the way your voice cracks around the word. You sniffle, wiping at your nose with your sleeve.

“I have somethin’ for ye.” He says, his hands fiddling with the fabric he’s holding. You hadn't noticed it before now. “I was gonnae do Simon’s laundry, but I thought ye might want this.”

It’s one of Simon’s shirts he’s holding out to you, one of the black standard cotton t-shirts he often sports. Your fingers tremble as you take it, bringing the fabric to your nose. You don’t care that it’s dirty, having likely been soaked in sweat at one point. You inhale deeply, nose pressed into the fabric. It smells of soap and deodorant and him. Tears well in your eyes as you take in the scent, almost as if you’re getting it directly from the source.

You’re moving before you realize it, your arms wrapping around Johnny’s middle. He seems almost surprised by your action, his body tensing for a second before it relaxes, his arms wrapping around you.

“Thank you.” You murmur against his chest, a couple tears slipping from your eyes. You’re so tired of crying, but you can’t stop.

“Yer welcome, kitten.” He says, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Ye need anythin’...”

He leaves the other half unsaid, but you know what he means. You’re hesitant to pull away from him, wanting to just stand there and cling to him until Simon returns, but you know he’s busy. Eventually he’ll have to leave you too. You’re not sure you could handle watching him leave your nest, close your door behind him as he’s forced away to do his job.

Your door clicks as you shut it, holding Simon’s shirt to your chest. You’re tempted to wear it, to slip it over your head and bathe yourself in your scent, but you know if you do that, his scent will just fade faster and become overwhelmed by your own. The desire to bury yourself in it is strong, let his scent sink into your body and overwhelm your own.

Your eyes pass over the giant bear sitting in your desk chair before snapping back to look at it. An idea begins to form in your head as you set the shirt on your bed.

You grab the bear, hauling it to your bed and sitting it on the edge. You pull the shirt over its head, stretching the neckline slightly. The shirt is slightly baggy on the bear, but you don’t care as you maneuver it so it’s laying on the bed, trying to picture Simon in its place. It would be a tight squeeze, but then again it always is with any member of your pack. Their bodies don’t leave much space on the narrow mattresses by themselves, much less with you curled up with them. You can’t help the stirring in your chest, the yearning for more space, for a bed big enough to fit all of you at the same time. Big enough for Johnny to starfish himself comfortably, for you to escape the inescapable suffocating heat of their bodies that will build up inevitably.

Tears burn behind your eyes as you crawl onto the mattress, draping yourself across the giant bear. Simon’s scent wafts up around you as you press your face into the shirt, pretending it’s Simon you’re laying against. You can almost feel his arms wrap around you, holding onto you like you might disappear if he lets go. You squeeze your arms tighter around the bear, letting Simon’s scent seep into your mind and take away your fear and your worry and your pain for a little while.

It’s two days later when you finally leave your room. You’ve managed to stop the onslaught of tears, calming down enough to exist without being a weepy mess. There’s still an ache in your chest, though, the gaping hole that won’t close. A piece of you is missing, a piece you hadn’t even noticed was there until it was ripped out of you suddenly and violently. Your hug with Johnny had been the first time it had felt less intense, the aching abating just slightly.

They’ve just returned from their afternoon training, earlier than usual meaning they have some downtime before dinner. You can almost tell where he is before you leave your room, following the sounds of the TV. Your steps are slow and quiet, the cold tile biting into your bare feet as you approach the rec room.

He’s seated on the couch, spread out as usual. His eyes flicker to you as you hesitate in the doorway, tugging at the hem of the baggy shirt you’re wearing. You’ve long forgotten whose it is, the name on the tag worn off and all hints of scent erased by the many times you’ve worn and washed it. The thought tugs at the hole in your chest. Eventually Simon’s shirt won’t smell like him anymore, faded and rubbed away by time and your own scent.

“Hi kitten,” He says, breaking the silence between you.

You let out a shaky breath before entering the rec room, approaching him. You can tell he’s expecting you to sit next to him, to curl up against his side by the way he moves his arm, but instead you straddle his lap, all but throwing yourself against his chest. He grunts quietly in surprise, his arm instinctively wrapping around your back. You lay your head on his shoulder, going limp in his hold.

It doesn’t fix the hole, doesn’t remove the ache entirely, but you can feel it start to lessen as you sit there, getting as close to Simon as you possibly can through his beta. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt. He wraps his other arm around you, holding you tightly as his scent begins to project around you. Nothing is said, but nothing has to be. He knows what you need, and he doesn’t even have to use his instincts to figure it out.

A week goes by without a word from Simon or even about him and how he’s doing. You return to your normal routine in a numb, almost dazed state. You follow the rest of your pack around like a lost puppy, going to meals and following them to training when John allows, withdrawing back to your room like a recluse when you can’t. You sit in the rec room with them in the evenings, but you feel far away, distant from them and reality. You stare at the TV, but all you can see are blurry moving shapes. You can’t even read, often finding yourself staring at the cover until the words mesh and blur into something else.

You never thought the distance could feel like this. You almost miss the fear of them all being gone. At least that had made you feel something.

You see Dr. Keller twice as usual, both appointments unproductive as you fight to force some kind of life into yourself to drown out the numbness that’s settled. You’re far away, distracted from everything. Even food tastes different, more mushy and flavorless than usual.

They’re worried about you. Even in your numb state you can tell that. John hovers closer, allowing you to follow them more than he probably should. It’s not like you’re paying much attention to what they’re doing, seated far away from anything that might put you at risk as you stare up at the sky, or off at the trees in the distance. Even when you’re inside, your gaze is far away, never quite focusing on anything.

Johnny and Kyle keep you close as much as they can, squishing you between them on the couch or when you walk to meals. They’re always touching you, holding your hands, brushing your skin, wrapping their arms around you. They’re trying to comfort you, and it works for a little bit, not even your numbness impervious to a beta’s soothing presence. They hold onto you like they’re trying to keep you grounded to the earth, like you might float off and disappear into space if they don’t.

You don’t sleep well, electing to sleep in your room every night. It’s a vast difference to what you had been doing, avoiding your room as much as possible. You’re seeking out the safety of your nest, a comfort only it can provide despite everything that’s happened. You feel bad for pushing them away, keeping them at a distance, but at the same time, you don’t care.

You just want Simon back.

“I’m worried.”

“I know. I’m surprised you didn’t come here sooner.”

He feels strange, sitting in Dr. Keller’s office alone. It’s not the first time he’s been here, spoken to her about you. After their return from their first assignment, he had sat with Dr. Keller and gone over everything that had happened during their absence, or at least as much as she could tell him. Anything you talked about was considered confidential, but at least she could tell him if there were any issues or incidents.

“She’s depressed.” Dr. Keller answers before he can even ask. “It’s not uncommon for omegas to become depressed after separation. Even when there’s necessary splitting of a pack into a satellite, there’s a risk for all omegas to develop depression because of it.”

He should have known. He’s seen it happen to soldiers, when the blood staining their hands grows to be too much and they begin to recluse in their own bodies, becoming empty shells of who they were before. You’ve become a shell, a body simply existing out of necessity.

“What can we do?” He asks, unable to keep the mask up, to hide his concern and fear.

“Not much more than you have been.” She says. “Keep supporting her, reminding her that you’re there. There’s an adjustment when a bond begins to weaken. Omegas are especially susceptible to it, and with how strongly connected and aware of her instincts and emotions she is, it’s going to affect her more.” Dr. Keller sighs, leaning her arms on her desk. “I don’t think anyone has ever taught her how to balance or even use those purebred instincts. Institutes are supposed to, but from what we know, they teach subservience over anything.”

John shifts in his seat. Of course no one would have cultivated those abilities. It would have made you too aware, made the risk of you being able to manipulate them too high. Your job was to serve them above all else, so why would those teaching you want to give you that ability? Those instincts would have made you a perfect omega, able to pick up on the slightest changes, the needs of your pack. Yet, if you became too aware of your own abilities, it would give you too much power over them. That’s the one thing institutes don’t want...an omega that knows how powerful they are.

“How do we teach her?” He asks.

“I can help her with balancing those instincts and emotions, but only someone who knows can really teach her how to be successful at using them.”

“Simon.” He says, the pieces beginning to come together.

“If he didn’t know how before, his military training would have cultivated those instincts. That’s why purebreds are so sought after by militaries. Of course, it’s a bit different for alphas and omegas, but you are two sides of the same coin.” Dr. Keller smiles. “She’s smart. She’ll begin to figure it out on her own once she’s aware she can do it. In the meantime, just keep doing what you’re doing. If there’s some way she can talk to him or get in contact with him, that may help alleviate some of the depression.”

He knows it won’t be likely, but if it will help you, he’s willing to take that risk. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He stands outside your door, staring at the knob. It’s late, his eyes burning from exhaustion. He’s stressed, not just from the day to day stressors of his job, but your obvious pain and discomfort has been affecting him. It’s affecting all of them. Kyle and Johnny’s times on the course have slowed, their aim is off, and he knows they’re not sleeping well either.

Even with you beginning to return to your normal routine, your distance from them has proven to affect them more than your presence. Even with you around them, your numbed, absent state has disrupted their abilities to function, to exist as a normal pack. He’s relayed the sudden change to Kate in an attempt to prove his decision not to leave you alone is the right one, and it will help his case should they decide to try and separate you from the pack.

He can’t think of a reason why they would now. The bonds are too strong. The separation of just one of them has proven to disrupt the bonds between all five of you. He can only imagine how Simon is feeling, being apart from everyone. It’s never bothered him before, but that had been before your presence. If Simon was incapable of fulfilling his duties and performing the task he had been assigned, they would have forced him out of the field and sent him back by now.

Perhaps your fears were right and Simon isn’t as in love as John thought he was.

He shakes the thought from his head. He’s seen the way Simon looks at you, the obvious change in his demeanor since your trip to town, the changes that have happened in your demeanor around him. Simon cares for you deeply, more than just as an alpha in your pack.

He tries the handle of your door, surprised again when it opens. He might have thought you’d start locking it at night again with how much you’ve regressed. Maybe this was your silent plea for help, for comfort, for something other than the emptiness inside you. He slips into the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light of your nightlight in the corner. He can’t see you except for your arm tossed around the giant bear. It’s wearing a black shirt, likely the one Johnny had given you. It was a good decision, offering you at least an extension of the missing alpha.

He approaches the bed quietly, not wanting to startle you. He doesn’t want to climb over you either, but he knows moving the bear will wake you. Perhaps you’re exhausted and sleeping hard enough he won’t disturb you.

He picks the lesser of two evils, lifting the bear. He curses silently when your body shoots up as soon as the bear slips from your grasp.

“No!” You shout, almost like an angry child having their toy taken away. It’s a desperate sound, a shocking one, ringing loud in the silence. You’re reaching for the bear, trying to tug it from his hands.

“Easy, easy.” He says, putting his hand on your arm, your movements slowing to a stop as his touch brings back to reality. “I’m just moving him.” He shifts the bear to your other side, your body rolling to follow it.

He climbs into the bed, barely managing to fit on the mattress. It’s a tight squeeze with the two of you and the bear, but he’ll manage it. He’s slept in tighter places. He slips an arm under you, the other reaching across you to settle on the bear.

“Tight squeeze with the three of us.” He says quietly, trying to ease some of the tension.

“Need bigger beds.” You murmur, voice slightly muffled from where your face is pressed against the bear.

He chuckles quietly. “I won’t argue with that. Perhaps someday.”

You shift slightly at his words, obviously not expecting him to continue your conversation from earlier this week. He normally tried to avoid thinking too far into the future. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up for something he might never get to have. Or, at least he used to feel that way.

Things have changed.

“I used to think this job would be all I did.” He continues, speaking almost to himself. “I’d never grow old enough to retire. Someday I’d die in the field and that was good enough for me. Then, of course, things changed. Had those three other muppets to worry about.” He slips his arm from the bear to wrap around your stomach. “Then another little muppet got added. Now I’m thinking about a nice little cottage by the sea, big enough for five, with a nice flower garden in the front. Just a short walk to the beach, where we can sit and watch the sun set.”

“White picket fence dreams.” You say quietly.

“Or at least the British equivalent of that.” He says, a smile tugging at his lips.

You shift slightly in his arms, pressing back against his chest as you turn as far as you can. “You mean it?”

“Of course.” He says, his thumb gently rubbing your stomach through your shirt. “Things have changed. Priorities have shifted, and not just for me.”

He presses his forehead against the side of your head, breathing in the soft scent of your strawberry body wash and the new vanilla scented shampoo Johnny had gotten you. There’s a faint hint of leather beneath your scent, the smell rubbing off from Simon’s shirt you dressed the bear in. He can almost imagine Simon in place of the bear, both of their arms tangling around you as they surround you and keep you safe from the outside world. Just a moment of peace in the hectic violence and chaos of their lives.

“John?” You say quietly, pulling him from the edge of sleep that had settled in his mind.

He hums quietly in response, forcing himself back to consciousness again.

There’s a moment’s pause, a second of silence, and for a moment he wonders if you’re going to speak at all. “Don’t let go.” You finally say, your voice quiet and broken in the silence.

“Never.” He says, tightening his hold around you.

John's phone ringing drags you from the light sleep you had managed to slip into. It hasn't been long since you drifted off you think, but then again, it's hard to tell. It's still dark out, and you're still in the same position. John lets go of you to reach for his phone on your nightstand barely managing to grab it at the awkward angle he’s at.

His voice is rough with sleep as he answers. “Hello?”

It's quiet for a moment. You can't hear much aside from a male voice on the other side. You can't tell who it is or what they're saying.

“Good to hear.” He says, slipping into the Captain again.

Something stirs in your stomach as you try to listen, try to catch who it is. Just one word, just one hint.

“I'm sure.” There’s another pause, this one feeling like a lifetime. “I have someone here next to me that would like to talk to you too.”

You nearly elbow John in the stomach in your frantic attempt to turn over. You yank the offered phone from his hand as you lean the top half of your body on his stomach. “Hello?” Your voice wavers as you say it, the emotions beginning to stir within you again.

There's a second delay before you hear it. “Hello, love.”

You nearly cry at finally hearing his voice again, the pet name causing a fluttering in your stomach. You've never heard him call you that before. “I missed you.” You finally say, managing to get the words out.

“That's what I'm hearing.” He says, and you can imagine the lifting of his cheeks under the mask, the slight crinkle of his eyes as he smiles.

“When will you be back?” You ask.

“Soon. Won't be much longer.” He says.

“Be careful.” You say, your breathing shaky. “You better not come back hurt.” You're not sure you could handle it if he came back on a stretcher, or even with a single bandaid.

“Yes ma'am.” He says seriously, but you can hear the humor in his tone. “I'll try my best.”

“Good.” You say, wanting to lay there, to listen to him breathing for a while, just so that you know he’s really there, he’s really alright. You know you can’t though, your fingers shaking as you pass the phone back to John.

He speaks to Simon for a couple more minutes while you lay across his stomach, listening to the rumble of his voice in your ear. Relief is flooding through you after hearing Simon's voice. He's really alright, he's fine, he's coming home.

“You alright, sweetheart?” John asks after hanging up, his hand coming to rest on your back.

A thousand words want to come out of your mouth, but you can't get them up past the lump in your throat. “He called me love.” You finally say, replaying the pet name over and over in your head.

“Did he?” John asks, and you can picture the way his lips turn up in a smile.

“He's never called me that before.” You say.

“Well then I'm sure he meant it.” John says.

You sure hope so.

It's a week later when you get to stand on the tarmac again, waiting for a plane to land. It's early, the sky clear and the sun just starting to rise over the trees, casting everything in a golden light. It’s so vastly different from how the world had looked when he left, the weather seeming to convey your inner feelings. The rain and darkness a perfect symbol of the dread and pain of him leaving. Now that he’s returning the sun is out and the sky is clear, conveying your relief. You’re beginning to feel again, the ache in your chest beginning to lessen. It’s the most alive you’ve felt since he left.

You're in a dress today, the yellow sundress that Johnny had bought you. You wonder if he’d done it on purpose, perhaps knowing something you don’t. Despite the sun rising, there’s still a chill in the air, and you had quickly stolen his sweatshirt to cover your bare shoulders.

You squeeze John's hand as the plane comes in to land, watching it approach in eager anticipation. You're going to hug him tightly, throw your arms around him and refuse to let go until you have no choice. You're going to give him the greeting he deserved weeks ago when they all came back.

He's like a magnet, halfway down the ramp when you start approaching, moving without even thinking. He's in his full mask, the one with the half skull sewed to it. He looks dangerous and deadly, the true visage of a Ghost, but you approach without fear, without hesitation. Underneath all of it you know there’s Simon, the man you’ve quickly fallen in love with.

You're ready to hug him, to feel him again, to wrap yourself around him like you could sink right into his body.

You're not prepared for what he does next.

One of his hands reaches up, the fabric of his gloves rough on your skin as he grips your chin, his thumb on one side, digging into your jaw, the other four fingers on the other side holding your head still. His other hand pulls his mask up over his mouth, giving you a glimpse of his stubble and chapped lips.

You don't get to look long as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours.

It's like time freezes as he kisses you, your skin erupting in goosebumps, and it's not from the cold air. You weren't expecting this, your brain trying to catch up, to process that this is really happening, that this is real.

He tilts your head to the side, deepening the kiss as he leans closer into you. Your hands reach up, closing around the sleeves of his jacket. He's real, he's really here, and he's kissing you.

The moment likely doesn't last more than 30 seconds, but it feels like forever as his lips move against yours. It might be cliche to say fireworks are going off, but that may have just been the engines of the plane shutting down.

He finally pulls away from you, his hand still gripping your jaw. You could melt into a puddle right there, his eyes speaking volumes of what's going on in his head. He's done a lot of thinking in his time away. You wonder how many thoughts you've shared over the last two weeks.

“Should have done that before I left.” He says, his voice rough, but just as you remember.

Tears prick behind your eyes as you stare up at him. His fingers are digging into your jaw, but you don’t care. He’s here, he’s back, he’s safe, and he just kissed you like you’d wanted to before he left.

“I wish you had.” You say, as he slowly releases your jaw, his hand brushing your throat before it drops to his side. You let out a shaky breath before throwing your arms around him, holding onto him tightly.

“What are you doing?” He says, taking you back all those weeks ago to when you hugged him the first time. There’s no confusion in his tone now though, instead there’s an amused lilt to it.

“Giving you the hug you deserve so you don't get mad at me.” You say, your voice slightly muffled from your face being squished against his chest.

“You think I'd get mad about not getting a hug after kissing you?” He asks, patting your back.

“Just making sure.” You say, his chuckle reverberating in your ear.

You don’t release him as he begins to walk to where the others are, keeping your arms wrapped around him tightly. He greets the others, Johnny squishing you between them as he hugs his alpha. You don't care as Ghost's armor digs into your body, it's just a reminder that this is real. He's really here. This isn’t a dream.

He's really back.

You sit between Simon and Johnny in the back seat of the car. It's a tight squeeze between the two, but you don't care one bit. Johnny's hand rests on your thigh as John drives back to the barracks. Perhaps you’re still reeling a bit from the kiss, or perhaps it’s Simon’s scent, but you want to push Johnny’s hand higher, hike up your dress and hope Simon gets a peek at what's waiting underneath. You won’t though. You want him to be comfortable. You want your first moments of intimacy to be just the two of you, something special.

Dread begins to fill you again as the car rolls to a stop outside the barracks. You know what to expect now, having gone through it once before. He’s not truly back, he still has to leave you again. At least this time, you have the others.

“I'll see you soon.” Simon says, squeezing your arm.

“Hurry back?” You stare up at him.

“As fast as I can.” He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You're tempted to kiss him again, but you don't want to push his boundaries. Sure, he had kissed you, but it could have been a fluke, a one time thing born out of desire and time spent apart.

You won't care if he never kisses you again. At least you know what it feels like.

Thankfully he makes the decision for you as he turns his body slightly towards you, as much as he can in the tight space. He lifts the bottom of his mask, leaning down to kiss you again. You purr against his lips, your scent exploding in the car like a smoke bomb.

Johnny lets out an extensive curse as he fumbles for the door handle, forcing it open in an attempt to escape the sudden onslaught. Kyle is quick to follow, allowing more air in to disperse the intensity of your scent in the confined space. John rolls his window down, lighting a cigar, trying to do anything to keep your scent from going straight to his head.

You feel giddy and almost proud as Simon places one last soft peck against your lips. You don’t want to let him go, but you know you have to. He’s not quite yours yet. He still has more of his job to do before then.

Always the job first.

Your lips are still tingling as you walk into the barracks, your heart still fluttering in your chest. Johnny is staring at you, almost walking sideways. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, your face warming.

“What?” You ask, finally looking at him. He’s wearing that stupid, smug grin on his face again.

“Been a long time since I've seen him like that” He says, squeezing your arm gently. “Not since his first romp with Kyle.”

You turn to look at the other beta behind you who simply shrugs. “What can I say? No one's immune to my charm.” He gives you a dazzling smile. He’s not wrong, his smile causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“Cannae wait to see him glowin’ after his first taste of our sweet omega.” Johnny says, backing you against the wall.

“Yeah, well, you might be waiting forever for that.” You say, stopping his approach with a hand on his chest.

He tilts his head at you, his brows furrowing. “What do ye mean, kitten?”

“I'm not even sure he's going to want that, much less if he'll do it.” You shrug. The thought has been going through your mind despite the kiss in the car. Though he’s kissed you twice, that’s a big leap to make, a leap you might never make.

Johnny snorts at your response. “Kitten, he's been holdin’ himself back for weeks. He's just worried he may...be too much for ye.”

You give Johnny a look. “I can handle you, can't I?”

Johnny grins. “Aye, but this is...different. He's not gonnae make the first move. If ye want it,” He leans in closer. “Yer gonnae have to do it yourself.”

“Well,” You slip under his arm, nearly making him faceplant on the wall. “Then I best save my stamina for him, then.”

Kyle laughs, patting Johnny's back. “Set yourself up for that one, mate.”

You peel off Johnny's sweatshirt, adjusting the top of your dress before tossing his sweatshirt to him. “I'll see you both later.” You give them a smirk before turning on your toes, heading back to your room.

Johnny curses quietly behind you, and you just know his eyes are glued to your ass.

Johnny’s words replay over and over in your head as you go through your day as usual. Simon had returned to the barracks, going straight to his room to shower. You had been tempted to step into the hallway, to wait for him, but you know he’s not free yet. He still has paperwork to do, which you know from experience that could take a long time.

Thankfully, that gives you plenty of time to think about what you’re going to do. You're going to have to make the first move, but what if you move too fast? How do you even broach the subject?

“Hey Simon, welcome back. Would you like to rearrange my guts?”

“I cried the whole time you were gone, would you like to make me cry for a different reason?”

“Bend me over and fuck me like a real alpha.”

You facepalm at your own thoughts. You could just slowly initiate it. Start with touches, getting closer, more kisses. Leave yourself open to him in hopes he gets the message, that he pushes past that boundary and finally fucks you like he wants to.

Heat blooms in your stomach, sinking between your legs. You're all worked up and he’s only kissed you twice. Johnny’s words don’t help the fantasies in your mind. He’s scared you won’t be able to handle him. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought. He’s a big man. You know, you’ve felt it before. It’s hard not to, with some of the positions he’s put you in during your training, nothing but those grey sweatpants and his underwear as a barrier.

You wonder how he'll do it. Bend you over so you won't see his face? Keep the mask on and put you on your back so you can hold eye contact with him? Or will he finally take the mask off, finally let you see his face?

You assume the others have seen it, so when will it be your turn?

It’s not until after dinner when you hear footsteps down the hall. Johnny had gotten food for Simon who was still deep in his paperwork when you left for the mess. Despite his absence at the table still, it had felt less gaping, less like a black hole threatening to suck you all in. He’s back, he’s here. Soon he’ll fill that empty space again.

You try to stop yourself from running out of your room when the steps get closer. You’re not even sure it’s him. You don’t want to disappoint the others if you leave your room so excitedly in the hopes that they’re Simon. So instead, you stay seated on the edge of your bed, staring at your unlocked door. You want him to open it, to step into your room, but you know he won’t. He’s never been in your room. The furthest he’s entered is your doorway.

You’ll have to make the first move.

Your stomach nearly leaps out of your body as the boots stop in front of your door. You hold your breath in anticipation, too scared to move, too scared to throw open the door and risk your excitement being too much. You might push him away in your eagerness, but you’re not sure you can hide it much longer. You’d let him bend you over with the door open, hell, you’d let him take you in the hallway.

One step at a time. One step at a time.

You repeat it over and over in your head as you push yourself off your bed, moving to the door. He’s not going to knock, he’s going to wait for you to open it, for you to remove that barrier between you. He’s giving you the chance to change your mind, to go back, to call the two kisses enough and draw the line where you want it.

The doorknob is cold in your sweaty hand as you grasp it, turning it slowly. The gavel is falling, the slow opening of the door marks the finality, the crumbling of the final barrier. There’s no going back. The bond is too strong, the line has been removed completely.

You stare up at Simon as the door swings as far as it will open. His eye black is gone, washed off in the shower revealing the pale skin underneath. He smells good, cleaner than he had on the tarmac. You can smell it despite the space between you. Under the smell of his generic soap you can pick up his natural scent. Leather and eucalyptus and the musk of alpha. You want to drown yourself in it, rub it all over your skin until your own scent is gone.

“Hi.” You say, goosebumps forming across your skin from the intensity of his gaze. You’d forgotten how sharp it is, how easily he can peel away your layers as he stares at you.

“Hi.” He says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. You’d forgotten how deep it really is, the roughness around the edges harsher than usual, but you expected that. They had all been a bit hoarse after returning from their group deployment.

You continue to stare at him, lost in his earthy gaze. The hole in your chest has lessened to almost nothing, slowly the bond repairing itself just from the knowledge he's here, he’s standing in front of you. He’s real.

You clear your throat, smoothing your hands over your dress. His eyes drop, following the movement. “I thought you'd want to rest.” It's the first thing you can think of to say, speechless in his presence. He must be tired.

“I slept on the plane.” He shrugs.

“Yeah, but surely a real bed is a relief.” You say. You’d half expected him to retreat to his room, seeking out a comfortable bed. They’re not all that comfortable, but compared to what he probably was sleeping on these last couple weeks, it must feel like heaven.

“Probably is.” He says, his gaze shifting back to your face.

You sink your teeth into your lip as you stare up at him. You’re testing the waters, pushing into new territory as the last walls of the barrier crumble around you. “You could go rest.” You say, shifting on your feet, giving him the option to turn away, to change his mind. “I’m sure you missed your bed.”

He’s still as a statue as he looms in your doorway, his frame filling it easily, making you feel small. “I'd rather relax in yours.”

Your face warms at his words, not expecting him to say that. The warmth pooling in your stomach intensifies, your heart fluttering in your chest. You’re not sure what happened during his assignment, what caused such a drastic change. You want to know what went through his head, what he was thinking about. Did he picture you at night when he got a moment to rest? Was he imagining you there with him, curled up against him? Or was he picturing you in other positions?

You might never know, just another secret hidden between you.

A shudder runs through him. You can see it, the slight twitch in his body, his hands closing into fists. He’s responding to you, to your scent. Such power you could hold over him if you were brave enough to try.

Such power he could hold over you, if he wanted to.

“You could come in.” You say, taking half a step back in invitation.

He doesn’t move, still frozen there like a statue. You wonder how he stays so still, but that was probably part of his training. Be as steady as possible while shooting, how to be invisible even in broad daylight. “You're sure?” He finally rumbles out, his foot shifting just a centimeter, but you catch it.

You shrug. “Why not? You are part of this pack. You could have entered sooner, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t have minded.”

He hesitates for just a second before moving his foot from the tile and into your room. He pauses there for a moment, watching you, waiting for a reaction. It’s your turn to stay still, staring up at him as he makes the slow transition into your room, venturing into your sacred space, a place he’s never been in before.

He moves the other foot, taking the first step over that line, pushing himself past that barrier, leaving it crumbling behind him.

There’s no going back.

Something shifts inside you as he enters your room, a weight you hadn’t even realized was there lifting off your shoulders. The hole in your chest is gone, the missing piece back in place. All the tumultuous emotions, all the stress and the fear and the anguish is gone. Your room is safe again, complete again with him in it. Tears prick at your eyes as relief floods through you. No one is getting in, no one can get in now, not with him here. You want to hug him, to kiss him again, drag him onto the bed and make him hold you for a while.

You don’t. You stay still as he takes in your space, his eyes scanning your belongings and your decorations. He’s never truly seen it in the light. The only time he’d stared into it was that morning when you thought maybe someone had broken in, when your fear had fucked with your emotions enough to think they’d truly let someone enter without their knowledge.

How silly that thought had been.

His eyes move to your bed, landing on the giant bear wearing his black shirt. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at it as well, suddenly thinking you should have removed the shirt, shoving it into your laundry and moving the bear back to your desk. Yet, you want him to see it, want him to see that you tried to comfort yourself in his absence, tried to make a placeholder for him. You won’t need it now, though. Not with the real thing standing in your space.

He shakes his head as he stares at it, rolling his eyes as he lets out a sigh. “Fucking hell.”

NEXT ->

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @protokosmonaut

@fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites

@kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos

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@anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry

@red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving

@slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01

@heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

@sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164

@mirzamsaiph @xlxnq @chickennn-soupp

#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

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shinig6mis · 13 days ago

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bakugou katsuki had never known what it meant to feel empty until he lost you.

before you, his world had been loud, filled with fists connecting against bone, the roar of the underground fight ring, the sharp sting of sweat in his eyes as he threw himself into another round, another fight, another way to prove he was the strongest. he was unstoppable. untouchable.

and then one day, you came along. he still remembers the first time he saw you—standing in the dim glow of the underground fight ring, mina at your side, eyes wide as you took everything in, clearly looking like you didn't belong in this scene.

you softened the edges of him, seeped into the cracks he didn’t even know he had. he fought just as hard, bled just as much, but suddenly, there was something else waiting for him after it all. your voice was the first thing he wanted to hear after a match, your hands the only ones he wanted patching him up. and fuck, he’d never needed anyone before, never let himself. but you? you were different. you were home to him.

and then you were gone.

it had been months since the break up. months of sleepless nights and nights he drank too much trying to forget. months of stepping into that ring and scanning the crowd, always looking for your face, knowing deep down that you wouldn’t be there.

he knew it was his fault. you had begged him to stop fighting, pleaded with him after every match when he came back to you with busted knuckles and bloodied lips. “one day you’re not gonna get back up, katsuki,” you had whispered against his shoulder one night, voice thick with worry. “and i won’t be there to watch it happen.”

he had scoffed at the time, muttered some bullshit about how he wasn’t some weakling who would get taken down. his pride has always been his fatal flaw. but you didn’t care about that. you cared about him. you cared too much. and in the end, it was that love you had for him that had made you walk away.

he didn’t blame you for it. but fuck if it didn’t destroy him.

so he threw himself into the fights, let the pain fill the void you left behind. he fought harder. angrier. he turned every match into a battlefield, fists swinging like they could beat the ache out of his chest. it wasn’t even about the rush anymore. it was about punishing himself for letting you go.

he hated that you were still everywhere. in the way he flinched whenever someone pressed too hard on a wound, knowing it wasn’t your touch. in the way his bed felt too fucking big without your body curled up against his. in the way he still looked for you in a room even though he knew he wouldn’t find you.

and tonight, with alcohol burning in his veins, fresh wounds littering his skin, and a hollow ache in his chest that no amount of fighting could fix, he found himself on your doorstep.

he didn’t even remember getting there. all he knew was that the second he sat down against your door, his body slumped with exhaustion, something in him settled. because even if he couldn’t have you, just being near you and existing in the same space was seemingly enough.

when the elevator dinged, and he heard the soft shuffle of your footsteps, he knew before he even saw you.

“bakugou?” your voice was soft and a bit startled.

he forced himself to lift his head, blinking blearily up at you. you looked the same. exactly the fucking same. and it pissed him off, because how was it fair that you got to move on, untouched, while he was stuck here? while he still loved you so much it hurt?

he let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “hey.”

you frowned, taking a step closer, grocery bag shifting in your arms as you took him in—the bruises, the split lip, the haze in his red-rimmed eyes. “what the hell are you doing here?”

he shrugged, but the motion sent a dull throb through his shoulder. “dunno.” his voice came out rough. “just ended up here.”

something flickered across your face. concern, hesitation, or something else he couldn’t name. “get up,” you muttered, unlocking your door. “come inside before someone sees you like this.”

he let you drag him in, the scent of your apartment hitting him all at once. it was the same. it still smelled like you. felt like you. and god, he hated that it still felt like home.

you guided him to the bathroom like you had so many times before. it was muscle memory at this point. he sank down onto the toilet lid without question, watching as you dug through the first aid kit under the sink.

“this isn’t good, bakugou,” you murmured as you pressed a damp cloth to his cheek. “you need stitches.”

he hissed at the sting but didn’t pull away. didn’t take his eyes off you. “don’t need shit.”

you sighed, shaking your head at the fact that he still hasn't changed. “you’re impossible.”

he smirked, but it faded as his gaze dropped to your lips. too close, but still not close enough.

your hands were steady as you worked, but he could feel the tension in your fingers. his face so close and you noticed it too.

his hand found your waist before he could stop himself, fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater. you stiffened but didn’t move away.

“take me back.” his voice cracked, and he hated how desperate he sounded.

your breath hitched, eyes flickering with something. he couldn’t tell if it was regret, sadness, or probably neither.

“bakugou…” you whispered. “i can’t.”

it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. he knew the answer before he even asked. but hearing it had the final nail driven into the coffin of what you once had.

his grip on your waist tightened for a second before he let you go, feeling himself fall apart all over again.

but then your hand lifted, fingers grazing the side of his face. it was on instinct, the way he leaned into your touch, chasing it like he was starving for it.

“you need to stop doing this to yourself,” you murmured, thumb tracing lightly over a fresh cut on his cheek. “you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

he let out a bitter laugh. “maybe that’s the point.”

your fingers tightened against his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “don’t say that.”

he blinked at the glassiness in your eyes, the way your lips parted like you wanted to say something else but couldn’t.

and then, before he could stop himself, he surged forward, pressing his forehead against yours.

you inhaled sharply, body going rigid. but you didn’t pull away.

“i love you,” he whispered, voice raw. “fuck, i still love you, y/n. i never stopped.”

your hands moved, sliding into his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp in a way that made his breath hitch.

“you make it so hard for me to hate you, you know that?”

his lips twitched. “am i supposed to make it easy?”

you let out a shaky laugh, and god, he missed that sound.

your fingers brushed over his cheek again, softer this time. “you need to sleep, katsuki.”

he exhaled through his nose. “not tired.”

“liar.”

he let out a grunt, but when you tugged him up, guiding him toward your bed, he didn’t resist.

and when he finally lay down and you sat beside him, fingers still tangled in his hair, he let himself believe that he hadn’t lost you completely. just for tonight anyway.

he would let himself have this.

because even if you wouldn’t take him back, even if he was still falling apart without you, at least for now, you were here.

and that was enough.

a/n: sorry if this seems rushed! i wrote this one during an online lecture raaaaghhh but i can't help it i’m such a sucker for soft bakugou >.< expect more of that soon! <3

#𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐒𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 ꩜ .ᐟ #undergound fighter!bakugou #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou angst #bakugou fluff #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #soft bakugou

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rafesangelita · 5 months ago

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hey sweetie, can i request please [🍪] chocolate chip cookie with rafe cameron and based on the song " hard times" by ethel cain. you know how much i like her (both of you are so talented). you're free with the plot, you can make it angst, fluff, smut, whatever you want with a soft or a dark!rafe. as you please. tysm for considerate it and also congrats on your 5k. so proud of you. and take your time !! so excited <3

♡ “i’m tired of you still tied to me, it’s just the way that you are. i’m tired of you, too tired to leave.”— the never ending cycle of rafe causing you pain and making you feel better.

warnings: a lot of angst, barry being the mediator, crying, shouting, description of unprotected sex, emotional abuse (?)

a/n: i won’t lie, i hadn’t really given ethel cain a chance but when i was reading the lyrics to base this fic off of- MY HEART. i related to this song so much, it shocked me how i never gave it a try. thank you for participating and sending in this request :( i love you so much!! @nemesyaaa

you were everything rafe wasn’t. sweet, gentle, nurturing, patient. surely you two couldn’t work, right? instead of your differences driving you two apart, it drew you closer like the pieces of a puzzle. you filled his voids while he filled yours. maybe you were too young, but you couldn’t recognize that love, this love, could be bad. you clung onto the remnants of rafe that was good, to you it overshadowed everything else. the rage, the cruelty, the possessiveness, the pain. it was who he was, and you were okay with that.

“why are you cryin’? i told you about that shit already!” you jumped when rafe slammed his fist down on the table, his knuckles already split and bruised. “you’re shouting at me, what do you expect?” you cried more, your pink nails glittering under the light of barry’s dingy trailer. barry cleared his throat awkwardly, flashing you an apologetic look as you rushed to wipe your eyes. rafe ignored your sniffles while he sorted out his product. “do you really ‘gotta make her cry bruh?” barry took a seat after you left the kitchen.

rafe was quiet for a moment, eyes trailing up to look at your curled up form on the worn out couch. he saw the shake in your shoulders, the ruffles of your long skirt disheveled from laying on the thin fabric. you didn’t ask to be here. you didn’t ask for any of this. rafe’s jaw clenched as he handed the scale over to barry. “weight this out, i’ll be right back.” he grumbled, walking over to you. rafe was terrible at comforting people, let alone you who just happened to be the most sensitive person in the world. “hey..” his voice was low as he squatted down.

you took a breath, moving your hair away from your face as rafe turned you around. your skin was flushed, your cheeks hot while your lips swelled from biting on them so hard. “you look pretty.” he wiped a stray tear from your cheek before pressing a kiss to your temple. “you scare me sometimes.” you rasped, tracing his jaw as he picked you up, scooping you in his arms as your head rested on his chest. rafe walked you two down the dark hallway, and entered a bedroom where he laid you down.

you knew what was coming, your hand finding rafe’s as he hiked your skirt up around your hips. rafe knew you wanted intimacy, unfortunately this was the only way he knew how to give it to you. with every thrust of his hips bringing you closer and closer to that peak, you watched his expression morph into one of confliction. like he was sorry for doing this, but also on the edge of pure euphoria himself. you came with a cry of his name, your fingers wrapping around his digits while you felt him empty himself inside of you.

in those few minutes of post orgasm bliss, he held onto you and kissed you like you were the only thing that existed. it was pure heaven. and like always, just when you think you can stay like this forever, he gets up and leaves you naked and vulnerable. “me and barry got some stuff to do. we’ll be back later.” he stroked your cheek before shutting the door. there, in the pitch black darkness, you listened as the engines of rafe and his business partner’s dirt bikes roared to life, the sound fading away as he left you again.

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ssahotchnerr · 11 months ago

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girl i am BEGGING you to write a hotch story with his beard and reader doesnt know he has it because he never told her and when he comes back shes more in love with him!!! you can take it any direction you want

off guard

hehehe 🤭 cw; fem!reader, established relationship, heavy suggestiveness, fluff and bearded aaron 😵‍💫<3

after what felt like forever, came the long awaited knock on the door.

"finally." you breathed out as you threw the door open, immediately tucking yourself into aaron's chest and wrapping your arms around his middle.

the longer he was in your hold, the more you tightened your arms - as if you would blink and he'd be right back in pakistan, miles and miles away from you yet again.

it was late, or early depending on how you looked at it. the moment you received the message aaron was back in the states - prematurely and under urgent circumstances - you had insisted the second he had wrapped up, no matter the time, to come directly and strictly to your apartment.

lucky for you, he had already planned on doing so regardless.

"god i missed you." aaron sighed out in relief just as much as you, the empty void in his heart filling at last, making him feel whole again.

he had spent countless nights fantasizing of you being in his arms, the feeling near and distant simultaneously, as if he could reach out and grasp it. for the first month overseas, he had difficulty sleeping even, so used to sleeping beside you - the familiar weight of you laid on him, matching his breathing to yours, or the fact you were simply near.

the longing for you had been torturous. and at last here you were, right where you belonged.

"i almost can't believe it," you mumbled into his t-shirt, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "five months was too long. too, too long."

you loosened your hold, just enough to peer up at him, just now getting a look at him. however, you found yourself taken aback, any eased, impending cries halting at once.

it was your aaron - your loving, wonderful aaron - staring back at you, but it didn't look like him.

his hair was longer, his body a bit more lean, but the major difference; a beard graced his face.

you've seen aaron with some stubble - not shaving during a weekend off, or his occasional five-o-clock shadow. but that was the result of a mere few days. this was months in the making, and it wasn't unwelcome in the slightest.

endless words could describe the sight before you, but your mind and mouth had run both dry. it was hot, to put it bluntly.

"jack hates it too." aaron admitted as his hands fell to your waist - not daring to part contact, mistaking your hesitancy for dislike. "i was going to shave it, but you did say to come right over-"

"hey- no." you blurted out, blinking up at him. "who said i hated it?"

his eyebrows furrowed, surprised. "you don't?"

"absolutely not," you insisted, looking almost offended at the proposition. you touched his cheek, feeling the coarse hair under your soft fingertips and igniting something deep within you. "quite the opposite, actually."

"really?" a pleased smirk formed on his face, his eyes darkly intrigued and amused.

"just when i thought you couldn't get more attractive." you smirked right back, toying with his shirt. "trust me, i like it more than you know."

aaron's fingers dug into your hips, backing you into your apartment, kicking the door shut behind with his foot.

"please tell me you have tomorrow off, because you won't be stepping outside this apartment if i can help it." you pleaded, your voice coming out as an eager whine.

"well, the team is to be evaluated by the senate committee, hearing date pending. so for the foreseeable future," aaron bit down on his bottom lip lightly, his eyes locked on yours. "i'm all yours."

"good. mainly because i missed you, but that," you eyed his beard again, a heavy breath escaping you. the ends of your lips quirked up into a mischievous smile, and aaron's lips found yours hungrily. as he frantically continued to back you towards the direction of your bedroom, you mumbled into his lips. "we can have fun with that."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds smut

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myladybelle · 8 months ago

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𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍? | chapter nine

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: art donaldson x female!reader x patrick zweig 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve always been content being second place to your best friend tashi duncan, waiting for the day you can quit tennis. your world is upended when you meet art and patrick, and you’re forced to embrace a life in the sport you’ve been too afraid to claim for yourself. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.0k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): challengers content warnings, swearing, making out, mentions of sex, use of y/n 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: buckle up kids, it’s going to be an angsty ride!! also this is basically just dialogue so it’s a little different from the other chapters so far 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

𝟑 𝐌��𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 – 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟕, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕

In many ways, it felt like your whole life changed since you stopped being friends with Tashi. Over the last three months, you realised a significant part of your identity was missing. You hadn’t noticed it before you stopped being friends with Tashi, but she made up so much of your everyday life that it was impossible not to feel her absence.

Every memory of her lingered in your mind like echoes in an empty room. Tashi existed in the past tense. She was no longer a part of your life. Letting go was hard, and nothing could fill the void left behind. It was a painful adjustment because your routines and comforts were embossed with her imprint – tennis, school, friendships, your entire life. Every new routine you established was an aching reminder of her desertion.

No matter how much Art supported you, it felt like you had to learn to navigate the world alone. You knew he was doing his best and loved him so much for constantly putting up with you, but Art-shaped love couldn’t fill the Tashi-shaped hole in your heart. It was irreplaceable, and since nothing could fill the void, it remained empty.

Staying in Art’s childhood bedroom over winter break had been fun for about a day until the both of you realised his room was a shrine to his friendship with Patrick, just as yours was a testament to your friendship with Tashi. Trophies, medals, pictures, and mementoes of their life together littered every corner of his room. This worsened Art’s insecurity that Patrick’s presence shadowed his relationship with you.

One day, when you came upstairs from crocheting with Art’s mom, you were surprised by the sudden emptiness of his walls and shelves. Any evidence of Patrick was scrubbed from his room and his life.

The sudden end to Art and Patrick’s friendship – which you secretly called Patrickgate but would never say aloud to your boyfriend – was a lingering mystery you had yet to figure out. You weren’t sure if the end of their friendship was just an extension of Tashi’s breakup with Patrick or if something else happened. His visit to Stanford had been so much fun up until the accident, and you knew Art had looked forward to it for weeks, so you had no idea what happened to them.

“I think my parents like you more than me,” Art declared one evening, falling onto the sofa beside you. You were crocheting a blanket out of granny squares with his mom and bonding with his dad about your shared music taste. Everyone agreed that Art had terrible taste in music, so he rolled his eyes and watched his favourite people fondly.

“Sweetheart, don’t say that,” his mother said kindly, counting her stitches. “We definitely like her more than you.” You laughed when Art whined, leaning on your shoulder and complaining.

Truthfully, he was happy that you and his parents got along so well. A warm, glowing sensation spread through Art’s chest anytime he saw you interact with them. He smiled as his dad laughed heartily at one of your jokes and noticed a rare sparkle in his mother’s eyes as you exchanged stories about your childhood with her.

Art felt the tight knot of anxiety that had grown over the last quarter slowly begin to unravel.

As you lay on his bed reading a novel his mom recommended, Art couldn’t help but wish your relationship was always like this. Sunlight streamed through his window, cast a gentle glow over his bedroom, and made you appear almost angelic. Curled up on his bed with your legs tucked beneath you, the corners of your lips curved into a content smile as you turned a page, eyes scanning the words.

Art stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and watched you silently. Your relaxed posture contrasted with the tension that usually lined your frame. The strain of the last three months seemed to fade away, and the emotional turbulence you had both weathered was absent.

Art let out a quiet sigh. This tranquillity, this slice of peace, reminded him why he was trying so hard to make your relationship work.

“I think I need to steal you away from my parents for a night,” he decided, making you look up from your book.

“Really?”

Humming, Art pushed off the doorway and approached the bed, saying, “I want you all to myself. Competing with my parents for my girlfriend’s time isn’t exactly the low point of my life but it does defeat the purpose of staying together for winter break.”

Grinning, you dropped your book onto the bed and fell into his arms. “I’d love to do something tonight,” you promised.

Sitting across from each other in the dimly lit restaurant, you and Art found yourselves surrounded by a heavy silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it no longer held the ease of your earlier days together. Last year, when your relationship was fresh, you could sit in companionable silence for hours, feeling entirely at ease. Art’s presence used to be comforting as he quietly observed you. Now, you stared down at your plate, your mind swirling with doubt and uncertainty.

Your relationship with Art wasn’t working out how you hoped, and you were sure he felt the same. But he never voiced his concerns, thoughts, or feelings. Talking to Art was like trying to scale an impenetrable fortress, every word bouncing back without revealing a hint of what lay inside.

When you returned to Art’s house, you showered and got ready to sleep, climbing into his bed and waiting for him.

Cross-legged on top of his blankets, you stared at the now empty walls of his childhood bedroom. A hollow ache sat deep within your chest. Every poster, every photo, and every memory of his friendship with Patrick had been stripped away, leaving nothing but bare, cold surfaces. The once vibrant room now mirrored the emptiness you had noticed in your boyfriend in recent months.

You knew how much his bond with Patrick had filled his life, just as your friendship with Tashi filled yours, and without them, everything seemed unbearably vacant and bleak. Both of you were so consumed by your broken friendship with Tashi that neither of you gave him the space to process his loss of Patrick.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Art entered his room, hair still wet from his shower. He paused when he saw the melancholic look on your face.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. You never hid parts of yourself from Art. The problem was that he never did the same with you. “Things haven’t been okay for a while now. With either of us.”

Despite the shock coursing through him at you pointing out your unspoken issues, Art tried to keep his expression neutral. His features betrayed only the slightest flicker of surprise. “School’s been busy and our schedules have been crazy, but we’re okay,” he tried to reassure you, closing his door behind him. His parents wouldn’t be coming home until later in the evening but Art wanted the assurance of privacy. “It’ll get better.”

Sitting beside you on the bed with his feet planted on the floor, Art met your eyes and smiled at you. In the past, all it took was the curve of his lips to give you butterflies. Just one glance would make your heart flutter uncontrollably. Now, you could see the sadness in his eyes, the weight of unspoken worries pulling him down. The butterflies weren’t gone, but their wings felt heavier now. You still loved him, but you didn’t want your relationship to become one of unfulfilled potential, lost to the demands of your separate lives and identical scars.

You couldn’t help but return his smile. “The thing is, I don’t know how things can get better if we don’t talk about them,” you confessed, trying not to upset him. “You know I tell you everything, right?”

Almost imperceptibly, Art’s eyes narrowed, already taking a defensive stance. “Of course I do,” he said.

“Do you feel like you can share things with me?” you wondered, trying to keep your voice light. You had observed Art putting your care and emotions above everything in his life, and you wanted him to know it was unnecessary. “Because I’m here for you. I feel like you hold everything in and I don’t want you to feel alone.”

Art crossed his arms as he thought about it. He wore a contemplative look, lips pursed and gaze lingering thoughtfully on the wall behind you. “I don’t feel alone.” Pausing, you gave Art a chance to divulge more about his feelings, but he only looked at you, waiting for you to speak.

You tried not to let your disappointment or frustration show. After all, if Art felt that he needed to tread carefully around you, then you were partially at fault. He had been in charge of helping you hold it together emotionally for the last few months, and there was no space for him to get that same support from you. You both lost your best friends, but you were the only one who received help from your partner.

“Does that mean you don’t miss Patrick?” you asked, tilting your head curiously. “You haven’t talked about him in, like, nine months.”

Art’s brows furrowed deeply, casting a shadow over his increasingly narrowed eyes. “Why are you bringing up Patrick all of a sudden?” he queried, his voice taking on a defensive edge that you had anticipated.

“Well–” you motioned around his room to indicate how empty it suddenly was– “You haven’t said a word about what happened and I can tell it’s affecting you. I’m worried. I don’t know why you stopped being friends because you never talk to me. He’s your best friend, and one day you just decided that you were done with him. I know how that feels, and I want to understand what happened.”

“Patrick and me not being friends is not the same as what Tashi did to you,” Art pointed out. His jaw clenched, signalling his rising frustration. “I never insulted him or his relationship, we just stopped being friends after the accident. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“If there was nothing to talk about, then you wouldn’t be so affected by me bringing it up,” you argued. “I’ve noticed how your face changes every time someone mentions him, and I think that talking about it might help.” Art said nothing. “Besides, he’s not at fault for what happened to Tashi. While I understand why she wants to draw a boundary between them after going through the most traumatic experience of her life, you’re supposed to be his best friend. He lost both his girlfriend and his best friend in one fell swoop for something he isn’t even responsible for.”

“It was just time, Y/n,” Art replied vaguely. His breathing became deliberate and even, each measured inhale and exhale designed to soothe his growing anger.

“Was it time, or was it convenient timing?” you challenged him.

The tension between you mounted as you grappled with Art’s emotional guardedness, yearning for him to break his silence. Even now, when confronted with your direct questions, he let nothing slip past his mask. You wondered if you had done this to him, if you had made him believe that any display of emotion would somehow set you off.

You questioned, “Was it really a natural ending to your friendship, or did you stop being friends because Tashi’s accident gave you an excuse to do so?”

Art sighed heavily, a telltale sign that he was nearing the point where he couldn’t hold it all in. “Why do you care?” he asked slowly and through gritted teeth. “You haven’t talked to him in months either.”

“Not for a lack of trying,” you retorted.

He froze in shock as your words sank in. Standing abruptly, Art took two steps from the bed and turned to face you. “You’ve been trying to talk to Patrick?” His voice wavered, rising a pitch higher than usual. A tremor of shock coloured his words, “Since when? How often?”

You uncrossed your legs and swung them over the side of the bed. “Twice a month since the accident,” you revealed.

Clenching his fists at his sides, Art wondered, “Does he ever write back?”

“Once. All he said was that he missed me and he wished us a happy anniversary.”

Art inhaled sharply, the sting of betrayal spreading through him. The realisation hit hard. He had assumed Patrick was out of his life and would no longer influence his relationship with you, and he was naive to have thought so.

“Fuck,” Art grumbled. “Why would you do that?”

“Because he’s my friend, and without you and Tashi I might be his only friend,” you reminded your boyfriend. “He has nobody on tour who he can rely on, he would never reach out to his parents, and he doesn’t deserve to be punished for Tashi’s accident.” You stood, searching Art’s standoffish blue eyes as you approached him, wondering when he would admit his real feelings. “Doesn’t that hurt you? Patrick has nobody.”

“How do you think Tashi feels about you talking to her ex after the accident?” Art questioned, throwing a hand out as if motioning to her.

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably at the mention of your former best friend. “I don’t know, I haven’t exactly had the chance to ask her, Art,” you said sarcastically. “Why should I worry about what she would think? After everything she said to me, everything she said about our relationship and our inevitable fate?” Feeling cornered, you stepped to the window and looked at the empty street. “If you’re so curious about what Tashi thinks, you should just ask her. After all, the two of you are still friends, right?”

Art groaned, irritated that you brought up a past argument you had. “I already told you we aren’t friends! Sometimes we run into each other and we talk.”

Turning your head, you nodded. “Fine. But that doesn’t change the fact that you think talking to Tashi is okay, but me talking to Patrick is some sort of a crime.”

“Because Tashi isn’t in love with me, Y/N,” Art argued, raising his voice with flushed cheeks. “Don’t you see that Patrick’s just waiting around until we break up so he can swoop in and have you for himself?”

“Where did you get that from?” The conversation you had started was escalating to a full-on fight. You felt a surge of heat spreading from your chest to your head, your racing heartbeat emphasising your growing anger and exasperation. “I know he flirts with me, I know he messes with you, but you like it! It makes you smile, and laugh, and you play into it because that’s just how Patrick is!”

“I know that!”

You began listing things off on your fingers, “He’s never told me he has feelings for me, he never tells me that we should break up, he doesn’t plant any ideas about you being a bad boyfriend in my head – or fears of infidelity, for that matter,” you added pointedly, reminding Art of the way he tried to make Patrick and Tashi insecure about their casual relationship. “He’s never done anything to indicate he’s trying to get together with me! He won’t even respond to my emails!”

“Good!” Art shouted, his face turning a deeper shade of red with anger as he approached you. “I don’t want you talking to him!”

“Why?!” You shouted back, losing your temper. Months of built-up frustration and disappointment were finally boiling over. “The second you stopped being friends he stopped answering my emails, does that sound like someone who’s trying to steal your girlfriend?”

“You don’t know him like I do!” Art stared at you, arms falling limply at his sides. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, each inhale like a gasp. Your shoulders rose and fell rapidly, and the adrenaline coursing through you made it hard to slow your racing heart. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered.

“What?”

“You think you know Patrick because you exchanged emails? If you really think he didn’t do all of that because he’s in love with you then he’s totally played you. I know him. He’s relentless, and he’s never going to stop, Y/N. Haven’t you seen him play? He’s the master of the long game, the master of making a comeback, and the master of trick shots.”

You let out a deep, exasperated groan, your eyes rolling skyward in a dramatic display of frustration. “Why is it that we can’t have a single argument without it coming back to tennis? The person you are is not the same as the type of player you are on the court,” you pointed out. “You’re romantic and imaginative and nothing like the way you get when you play tennis. Why are all of Patrick’s qualities diminished to the way he plays a game?”

“Because everything’s a game to him,” Art insisted. “He goes through life like it’s a game and he wants to lose as little as possible.”

“But–”

“–And you,” Art interrupted. “You go through life like it’s a game too!”

“When have I ever treated any aspect of our lives like a game?” you exclaimed angrily.

“Weren’t you playing a game when you lied to Tashi about throwing every match you’ve played against each other for the last five years?” Art challenged you.

The coldness in his eyes and how he spoke to you was so unlike him. The harshness of his voice sent a chill down your spine, making you feel like a stranger in your own relationship. It was as if the person standing before you was someone else entirely, leaving you reeling with confusion and hurt.

Head spinning, you stammered, “How do you even know about that?”

“Tashi told me. She was really upset about it, too. She was crying and I could barely hear a word she was saying because–”

“–You just said the two of you weren’t friends and that you didn’t speak to her? When did you have the time to have this heart-to-heart?”

Swallowing harshly, Art confessed, “The night of your fight.”

“Fucking hell, Art.” Incredulous, you burst into laughter, shaking your head in disbelief. “You went and talked to the woman who broke my heart the night it happened? What, you just went to her dorm to make sure I wasn’t lying to you about it?” you asked sarcastically, your eyes widening for comedic effect. “Since you seem to think I’m lying about everything, including the fact that I’ve been letting her win.”

Art scoffed. “Come on,” he replied in a harsh voice. “Do you really expect me to believe that you let her win every single game? Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because she wanted it and I didn’t,” you emphasised each word, enunciating as you glared at your boyfriend with tears in your eyes. “From the moment I met her I knew she wanted to be the best. I considered ignoring that and simply winning against her – God knows it would have made my mother happier – but I chose not to.” You wiped the tears from your cheeks harshly. “I let my mother berate me and refuse to let me have dessert and affection and whatever else normal teenagers get from their moms because I wanted my best friend to win. I wanted her to achieve her dream. I didn’t do it to have you, the person who is supposed to trust and support me most in the world, tell me that I lied about it,” you concluded, feeling utterly defeated that Art didn’t think you could beat Tashi. “What about all those times I beat her in training when the scores didn’t matter? Or the fact that I was ranked higher than her last year, even before her injury?”

“You had a great year last year,” Art allowed, averting his eyes when he saw how devastated you were. “But Tashi’s always been tougher than you.”

“Is that what she told you when you went to visit her?” you wondered. Art remained silent, and you inhaled sharply, hurt that he would believe Tashi over you. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this… Objectively, I’ve always been the better player.” Art nodded slowly. It was true; in terms of skill and precision, nobody had you beat, not even Tashi. “So if I’m stronger, faster, and more precise than Tashi, then there is no reason that she should have been beating me all these years. Except for the truth: I was letting her win.”

Art shifted uneasily, his gaze fixed on the floor, hesitating to disclose an opinion he feared might hurt your feelings further. “Everyone knows that tennis is more of a mental game than a physical game,” he began cautiously, his voice tinged with apprehension. “You have a lot of anxiety, and–”

You held up your hand, silencing him as you backed away from Art. “You know what, I’m done. I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that my own boyfriend doesn’t believe me, or the fact that you don’t believe in me.”

“Of course I believe in you,” Art disagreed.

“But not more than you believe in Tashi, right?” you retorted angrily. “Is that what this is really about? Do you want her? Were you disappointed Patrick won the match and got her number? Is that why you kept picking fights when they were together?”

Frowning, Art said, “Stop it.”

“Is this your grand scheme? Date the best friend and then cosy up to the one you really want when the timing’s convenient for you?”

“Well, it seems to be working for Patrick,” Art replied, just as venomous as you.

Sighing, you rubbed your forehead. “I don’t want to fight about Tashi and Patrick, I just want to understand what’s going on with you! You never tell me anything.”

“Because I feel like you’re on the verge of falling apart every time I see you!” Art exclaimed, voice edged with frustration. “The last thing I want to do is push you over the edge. We have so much going on and I feel like every time we do something together it ends with both of us being upset, and I hate it. Everything is about tennis, or Tashi, or school, or Patrick, and nothing is about us anymore!”

“I know nothing is about us anymore,” you agreed, your tone a mixture of sadness and defensiveness. “Why do you think I want you to open up? I know I haven’t been my usual sugar-coated self for the last few months, but you holding everything in doesn’t help us. I need more from you, I need you to not treat me like I’m made of glass.”

“Why am I not enough for you?” Art replied, stunning you.

Your chests heaved in unison, panting from the intensity of your argument. Your eyes locked in a charged silence. Art’s hands trembled slightly at his sides, adrenaline still coursing through him, making his heart pound against his ribcage as he met your gaze. You looked away, blinking back tears.

“You are enough for me,” you said quietly. “I don’t know how many more times I can tell you. I love you, of course, you’re enough.”

“Not like that,” he corrected you. Art sighed, his anger dissipating as he watched your growing sadness. “What did Tashi say about our relationship that’s so bad? She said we would get married and have kids and I would have a professional tennis career. You act like that’s the worst thing she could have said to you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as Art mentioned your argument with Tashi, your breath catching in your throat. Regardless of how impactful the end of your friendship with Tashi was, you didn’t like to speak about it. Even after all these months, Art only new bits and pieces of your argument. He knew Tashi said something about you having a family with him, and he knew it had upset you, but he didn’t understand the context. The sharp edge of your anger softened, replaced by a pang of guilt as you understood how deeply this detail had affected your boyfriend.

Tentatively, you reached out and took one of Art’s hands. He let you, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. In a gentle voice, you told him, “I had no idea you thought that. What she said that day has nothing to do with you, trust me. She said it to hurt me because she knows that I’m terrified of turning out like my mother.”

When Art’s eyes opened, they reflected confusion. “She thinks marrying me will make you turn out like your mother?”

“Well, no, she thinks I’ll turn out like my mom if I don’t pursue a tennis career, regardless of who I marry,” you corrected him. “I wouldn’t have a life of my own. There would be no meaning, no dreams, no goals of my own, just me. And I would be vapid and destructive if I ever had kids, just like my mother was with me. It has nothing to do with you, she said those things to hurt me, to scare me.”

“A life with me scares you?”

“No, a life without purpose scares me. Now, more than ever, I feel like I have no purpose.” Your voice wavered when you spoke, barely above a whisper, as if afraid of being heard. “I thought Tashi was the person I was going to live life with, and now I have to rearrange my identity in a way that makes sense without her. She said those things because she knows my biggest fear is to hurt any potential partner or children the way my mom hurt me and my dad. I need more than that for myself.”

“You need more than me,” Art repeated, running his free hand through his hair and sighing. “That’s what I’m saying, I’m not enough for you. It can’t just be me. It has to be me and tennis, or me and law school. But not just me, or our relationship.”

“Is that wrong?” you wondered.

“I just mean– I would drop tennis for you in a heartbeat, Y/N. I would follow you to law school and go anywhere you need me to go with you because I love you. You’re it for me, you’re all I need. But you don’t feel that way about me.”

As your fingers slipped from Art’s grasp, the cold, empty space between your hands mirrored the silent, inevitable end of your relationship.

“I would never ask you to do any of those things. I would never ask you to drop tennis or tell you to do anything you don’t want to do. You have to figure that out for yourself, just like I do.” You could feel yourself getting emotional and sensed the familiar sting of oncoming tears. “You already know what you want. You’re going to go pro, and I will be there to support you in whatever way you want me to–” Art grinned. “But you need to let me figure out what’s right for me, too.” Rather than slipping from his face, Art’s smile froze there, unmoving as his eyes grew colder. “I love you, Art, but I can’t just be your girlfriend. I need to be my own person. I haven’t been my own person since– well, I don’t think I’ve ever really been my own person. I was my mother’s puppet and, apparently, Tashi’s lackey, and now I don’t know who the fuck I am.”

“I know who you are,” Art interjected. His blue-eyed gaze pleaded with you to agree, imploring you to set aside your differences and make peace.

You shook your head. “No, you don’t.”

“I love you, how can I love you and not know who you are?”

“Because the version of me you fell in love with isn’t the same without her best friend,” you explained. Wrapping your arms around yourself as if they would hold you together, your lips curved into a bittersweet smile. “I know that sounds stupid, but I’m different now.”

“I’ll wait,” Art assured you. “You can be her again, I’ll wait.”

You turned to face him, eyes red and swollen from the tears you had been fighting back. “I can’t ask you to do that. You can’t keep feeling like you have to walk on eggshells around me. I don’t know what I want anymore; the major building blocks of our lives are gone, probably for good,” you added, referencing your former friendships with Tashi and Patrick. “And all we do is fight about them.”

“Then we’ll stop fighting.”

“It’s not that easy, Art. Be honest with yourself. Have you been happy?” you wondered. “Truly happy? Tiptoeing around in case you hurt my feelings or say something that will send me spiralling?” Art opened his mouth to respond but stopped, the words caught in his throat. He looked away, knowing the truth was written all over his face. Your eyes filled with tears, glistening as they clung to your lower lashes, your breaths becoming shallow and rapid. “I know you, and I know you haven’t been happy.”

Voice cracking with emotion, Art said, “I just don’t want you to be sad anymore.” He clenched his jaw tightly to suppress the tears welling in his eyes.

“I know. I love you so much for everything you’ve done, but every time you try to heal my wounds from losing Tashi, it hurts our relationship. It’s like we’re being torn open. So please, even though it’s hard and even though you don’t want to, please tell me how you feel.”

Art swallowed hard. Barely above a whisper, he confessed, “No, I haven’t been happy. We’ve been growing apart since the quarter started, and our shifted priorities have been driving us apart for months.”

“I agree.” You nodded, your expression calm even as a few tears rolled down your face. Soft and controlled, you said, “It’s not working. Right?”

“Right,” Art echoed, his lower lip quivering from holding back sobs. “I feel the gap widening every day and I hate it. It shouldn’t matter that I’m getting ready to go pro, and it shouldn’t matter that you’re still trying to figure out what you want.”

“But it does.”

“But it does,” he parroted.

You sighed heavily, shoulders slumping as you closed your eyes briefly. “I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted,” you declared, feeling drained by the weight of your argument.

Chuckling in disbelief, Art agreed, “I’m so tired.” When he met your eyes again, the fight had visibly drained out of him. “But I love you,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

With a wistful smile, you looked at him, your eyes revealing the quiet pain of loving someone you couldn’t fully have. “I love you too,” you replied gently, stepping closer to him. Tears escaped your eyes as you cupped Art’s face and carefully wiped his wet cheeks. “But if I’m not making you happy, then it’s not working.”

Art nodded. “And you need to figure out your own path and find what makes you happy, too,” he added.

You stood silently, the reality of your decision to break up sinking in. In the dimly lit room, you embraced for the last time, your bodies clinging as if reluctant to let go. Art’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close, while you buried her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent you knew you would miss. Time seemed to slow as you stood intertwined, trying to convey how much love you still had for each other.

The moment you parted, your lips gravitated to his. You kissed him. Art nudged his nose against yours, lips, hips, and chest hard against yours. He gripped your waist, tugging you closer as your hands tangled into his hair. You could barely think about your breakup. Too busy kissing Art harder and deeper as you begged each other to say goodbye, to be together and love each other despite everything that happened. The passion and urgency of this moment filled your veins; every heartbeat was a drumbeat, echoing in your ears as you stole this moment with him.

Art Donaldson wasn’t your boyfriend anymore. The thought was almost unimaginable.

Nothing else mattered. Not the pain of mourning the loss of Art’s love or the hollow emptiness of losing another person who had once filled your days with laughter and happiness, the boy who had been the warmth in your coldest, loneliest moments. For now, the breakup wasn’t real yet. You existed outside of reality, broken up but not yet having separated your life together. You were still his, and he was still yours.

But that wouldn’t be the case for much longer.

Art’s strong body pressed against you, firm hands trailing up your waist and raising the hem of your t-shirt as he went. “I still care about you, despite everything,” he declared, his voice filled with longing and desperation. “I’m sorry. I do believe you, and I believe in you.”

You nodded, resting your forehead against his. “I know. I’m sorry too.”

Pressing kisses to his neck, you paused to pull Art’s t-shirt over his head. He exhaled shakily, hooded gaze intoxicated as he drank in the sight of you running your hands down the planes of his chest and tracing the contours of the muscles in his abdomen. His eyes worshipped you like a sacred idol, filled with awe and adoration. Art reached for your face, a thick air of anticipation growing between you as his lips ghosted yours. His lips left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck and across your collarbones, almost mirroring the movement of your hands on his body. You shivered. Each feather-light touch of his mouth ignited a spark in you.

When you reconnected your lips, Art’s arms snaked around your waist and pulled you flush against him. You sighed happily against his mouth, and the sound seemed to make Art realise what was happening. As if an enchantment had lifted, he broke the kiss, staggering back and covering his mouth.

“Fuck,” Art swore.

He placed both hands on his burning cheeks. Art’s chest was just as flushed as his face, and his damp hair was a mess of unruly curls. Catching your breath, you looked at him, waiting to see what he would do next. Your head spun from the kiss you shared, and you were sure your lips looked just as red and raw as Art’s. Whenever you kissed him – or even just sat beside him – Art needed to be touching as much of you as possible. Your shoulders, hands, arms, thighs, and waist were rarely free around him. His hands always roamed freely, wanting more, more, more.

Art’s distance and the absence of his touch were a stark reminder of your breakup.

Taking a deep breath, Art met your eyes, and the intensity of his gaze made your knees weak. No matter how desperate he felt, he was being cautious with you. After all, you had just broken up, and he wasn’t sure if break-up sex was the best idea.

“I can’t– I need to go,” Art blurted, lowering his hands. His eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape from you, the only person he couldn’t stay away from. “I have to go before I– Otherwise, I’m going to–”

“Stay,” you pleaded. Your pulse thrummed beneath your skin like a racing river, each look from Art igniting sparks of nervous excitement.

He exchanged a meaningful look with you. “Is that a good idea?”

“I want to say goodbye,” you confessed, your voice wavering. “I want to feel what it’s like to be loved by you one last time.”

Art’s lips immediately found yours, kissing you as if his life depended on it. “I do love you,” he promised. “You’re still mine for tonight.”

#challengers x reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fanfic #challengers fanfiction #art donaldson x you #patrick zweig x you #art donaldson imagine #patrick zweig imagine #mike faist x reader #josh o connor x reader #fic: guilty as sin?

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darlinluxx · 27 days ago

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𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff, angst

warnings : angst

summary : after days of your girlfriend missing, she finally comes back home to you

a/n : in this saebyeok won the games bc she deserved to

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he mug warmed your hands, a familiar comfort on a cold, quiet morning. you stirred your tea, watching the steam curl and disappear like a forgotten dream. your eyes drifted to the empty space beside you on the couch, a phantom limb ache settling in your chest. Saebyeok had been gone for… how long now? two weeks? three? you’d lost count, the days blurring into an indistinguishable watercolor of worry and unanswered calls.

she’d left without a word. she was beside you in the bed when you went to sleep, and when you woke up, she was gone. no explanation for the sudden departure, the unnerving silence that followed. you’d tried calling her, texting her. nothing. just the dull hum of dial tones and the mocking silence of an empty inbox.

you’d gone to her brother, Cheol, but he seemed just as confused, his brow perpetually furrowed with concern. he’d even suggested you try to contact that broker she sometimes spoke of, and the thought of that alone had sent shivers down your spine. you didn’t want to think about… well, anything that might involve that side of her life.

you jumped slightly when the key rattled in the lock. your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the quiet morning. you haven’t even heard anyone at the door. you stood, the mug clattering onto the coffee table as you did, your eyes fixed on the door.

and then, she was there.

Saebyeok stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed against the pale light of the hallway. you noticed immediately how different she looked. and there was a haunting look in her eyes that you’d never seen before. but it was her — undeniably, miraculously her.

before you could even speak, she crossed the room, closing the distance between you in three long strides. her hands cupped your face, her touch gentle and firm, like she was afraid you might disappear if she held you too lightly. your breath hitched as your tears began to well up.

“you’re back.” you managed finally, voice thick with unshed tears. it was all you could think to say. a stupid, obvious statement, but it was all your brain could muster.

a ghost of a smile touched her lips, the first genuine one you’d seen in what felt like an eternity. “i’m back.” she echoed, her voice a low rumble that vibrated through your bones.

you reached up, your own hands covering hers. they were cold, rough, different. you noticed a new, faint scar on the back of her hand and a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. where had she been? what had she been doing?

“where were you, Saebyeok?” this time, the question was a plea for answers, a desperate need to fill the void of uncertainty that had been gnawing at you.

she hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting to the floor as if searching for the right words. she moved her hands from your face to your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“i had to go,” she said, her voice low. “i can’t really explain it right now. but i’m here now, that’s what matters.”

you wanted to demand answers, to rage at the pain and worry she had put you through. but looking into her tired, haunting eyes, you couldn’t. something had changed in her, something deep and profound that you didn’t understand.

you wrapped your arms around her, burying your face in her shoulder. she smelled faintly of antiseptic and something else, something you couldn’t quite identify. it wasn’t a pleasant smell, but it was her and that was enough.

“don’t ever do that again,” you whispered, your voice muffled against her jacket. “please.”

she held you tighter, her chin resting on your head. “i won’t,” she promised, the words barely audible.

you knew, deep down, that she was still keeping secrets. that the answers you yearned for remained locked away in some dark corner of her mind. but for now, you clung to her, to her warmth and her presence and the fragile promise of her return, hoping that one day she would finally tell you everything. for now, it was enough that she was here, safe, and with you. the unspoken questions would still be there, waiting. waiting for the time when she felt she could finally share the weight of what she had endured. but until then, you would simply be there, in her arms, loving her, and welcoming back your love who had returned, somehow changed, from somewhere you didn’t understand.

#kang sae byeok #kang saebyeok #sae byeok #saebyeok #kang sae byeok x reader #kang saebyeok x reader #sae byeok x reader #saebyeok x reader #squid game #squid game x reader

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anundyingfidelity · 3 months ago

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PRIMAL — Weapon X!Logan

Summary: You are right where he wants and won't escape the subject's twisted mind.

Warnings: heavy non-con smut, dark stuff, mentions of being tortured, female!reader. Read at your own risk tbh, thank you if you do though. Someone pls write more Weapon X! Logan, I'm going crazy at this point.

GEN MASTERLIST!

He has you exactly where he wants. Between the concrete and his intimidating aura. Your eyes are glossy, chest going up and down, ready to be the next victim. His last one.

You study the Weapon X subject one more time. He’s broad and muscular, strong frame with adamantium bones, claws out his knuckles as he walks to you, full in his naked glory. Stains of blood start to dry off on his chest, abdomen and shoulders. And even though in other circumstances he would make a good-looking man, he is far from being one now.

He is not human anymore, he is an animal. And you had been part of the experiments since the beginning. For some reason, he had saved you last from all the personnel of the base. A twisted and sick choice.

Logan takes the last two steps towards you, closing the distance. He can smell your fear, sense the shaking of your whole body, the beating of your heart… He had been watching you, paying special attention to you each time he could. Your voice, your silhouette, your job, your routines around the lab. Everything you did he had learned.

And now, after killing and dismantling the place, leaving a horrid trade of bodies and red around, he feels like finishing everything with you.

He doesn’t know your name, he just knows you were part of them and he fucking hates it.

How could such a pretty thing like you could bear torturing a lost soul like him? He growls at the thought, leaning until his nose is almost touching yours.

You gasp loud, the echoes of your breathing filling the empty place. Your eyes shut and you feel tears running down your cheek.

“Logan…”

He replies with a deep groan again, taking in the scent of your neck and the salty sweat covering your skin. Oh and how he loves the reactions of your body as he traces his way to the shell of your ear with his nose.

“Please… You- you’re not like this…”

Begging would do nothing, he knows it. You keep begging and begging, calling his name as he takes in the features of your face, eyes barely opening. And when you cross glances, besides the fear on your gaze, he can sense something else building on you: arousal. It’s not the first time he’s sensed it on you, but sure he will take out his own suffering and frustrations on that.

“Logan…”

Claws come close, cutting your blouse and bra off. He rips the fabric with his hands before your trousers and panties come off the same way. You squirm and cry, but don’t make any effort on pushing him away because you know he would win the same. He’s massive, stronger, and dangerous. He’s a weapon you helped to build, and compared to him, you are nothing.

Probably he will get vengeance by tearing you apart, forcing you on the smudged, cold floor. He’s all over you, not quite giving kisses but bruises with his lips and teeth on your neck, biting on your skin, legs wide as he feels your wet cunt against his hard cock.

You cry his name, more like a moan, when he forces himself inside your tight walls without any preparation. He’s animalistic, erratic, growling, almost howling, like a dog in heat.

The scratch of your nails do nothing. He pounds harder into your abused cunt, tearing an orgasm out of you. He spills himself in seconds, feeling your walls around him sucking him completely, and he continues fucking you over and over his own high, increasing the sensitive feeling between your legs. And just as you think Logan is over by how quick he keeps rutting on you, hips making an obscene noise every time he buries balls deep inside your cunt, it feels like he goes faster, harder, that it becomes too much and you cling into him with nails and loud whimpers, sore throat crying into the void.

He comes a second time with a deep moan, filling you up once again and you do nothing but take it. Slowly, he pumps his white seed into you until he fully stops inside your abused, needy pussy.

The primitive need to kill now is replaced with a more primal urge, and you would be perfect for that from now on.

#logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x female reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut #wolverine x female reader #x men smut #x men fanfiction #weapon x!logan #weapon x!logan x reader #dark fic

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moon7jay · 1 year ago

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OKAY (p.sh)

Warnings : smut, rough sex, degradation, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Dedicated to •┈┈⛧ @hoondrop

Sunghoon didn't think of it much when you let him into your apartment without a single word when usually you'd be huffing and puffing because he showed up unannounced. He didn't think much of it when you slipped off your dress silently and laid on the bed, spread open, waiting for him to use you however he wanted.

He attributed it to you being really needy. Sunghoon was too lost in his own lust to notice how you cried out his name when he slipped himself home inside of your wet heat in one painful thrust. Your nails dug into his back and your hazy eyes fell on his expressions of bliss, hot pants falling from his mouth, brows furrowed and eyes fixated on your heaving chest. He wasn't even looking at your face and an acute pain started to bloom inside your chest.

"Fuck-oh god-never been inside a pussy so fucking good ,you were just made to be fucked" He grunted, pelting his hips harshly into you. His touches were rough, palms groping around your body in a desperate abandon, leaving bruises in their wake. Usually you loved it, your body welcomed the familiar sting and the pleasure that came along with it, but the bruises from your inside were looming on the surface today, making you feel like an open, gaping wound.

He buried his face inside the crook of your neck, folding your body in half, his thrusts merciless as always. "fucking slut, can't stop coming back to this tight little cunt, you should get paid for it" he panted in your ear. His words were hitting you as hard as his thrusts were, the hollowness in your chest intensifying by the second. Soft sobs started leaving your lips before you could stop them.

"Yeah ? Does it hurt?" He asked coming up to rest his forehead against yours, looking you dead in the eye for the first time since he came over. His eyes were dark in lust, hot breaths of exertion falling on your lips while his hips kept pounding you into the sheets. You nodded, your vision becoming blurry as you were unable to control the onslaught of tears that was wracking your body. "You can take it, just keep letting me use this hot little body till I'm fucking satisfied" His movements became rapid, you could tell that he was close. Your walls were breaking down with each snap of his hips, pain beginning to constrict your throat. Your breaths were becoming shorter, sobs becoming ugly, the physical pain transcending into emotional one.

You hated it, hated feeling so vulnerable and raw, especially in front of someone who didn't give two fucks about you. Maybe it was the stupid feelings you had started harbouring for the boy above you that were begging him to notice your suffering. To see you, look beyond the relief that your body had to offer and peek behind the mask which was your face. To hold your aching body till it didn't feel like something was clawing it's way out of your chest, till you could voice out your grief and give this empty feeling a name.

Sunghoon's mind was beginning to get clouded over by the feelings of ecstasy, his hips stuttering, feeling his high approaching closer. Even though his body was responding to the pleasure you were giving him, something about the way you were looking at him was filling him with unease. He had never seen you crying so much during sex and something inside him was telling him that this was something else. Those weren't the sobs of pleasure that were racking your tiny form underneath him, your wails sounded like cries of actual pain and he wasn't sure what to do. His high faded into the void the more that he focused on your quivering lips and flooded eyes, his hips coming to a halt inside of you. When you didn't stop wailing despite the lack of his assault on your lower body, sunghoon's chest constricted in panic. Did he hurt you? what the fuck was going on?

You were jolted out of your agony by the feeling of two big palms cupping your face.

"Y/n? Hey, hey, calm down" Sunghoon's panic filled voice penetrated through the viel of tears covering your eyes. It took you a while to notice how he wasn't inside of you anymore, the aching between your legs was lost somewhere between your grief stricken cries. You pushed him away and curled into yourself, wrapping your hands around your middle to find some sort of comfort. Rocking your body back and forth to calm your stuttering breaths. This was all you had. For as long as you can remember, this tiny stroke of comfort was all you had to ground yourself to reality. The fact that someone else was witnessing your breakdown was making you feel defenseless. "G-Go please" you sobbed and closed your eyes to drown out your surroundings.

Sunghoon's brain was going into overdrive. Seeing you like this was something he had not thought about even in his worst nightmares and he felt helpless. He didn't want to leave but at the same time he didn't want to push your limits either, so he gathered his clothes and dressed himself as fast as he could. There was an intense urge to hold you that was blooming in his chest, but who was he kidding? He couldn't comfort people for shit. Sunghoon didn't do emotions, he didn't do feelings and he sure as fuck didn't care about anyone, so why were you making him feel this way?

As he took one last look at your naked body curled into a fetus position, your cries tearing through his heart, sunghoon did what he did best. He left.

As you stared at the empty screen of your phone with no calls or messages from sunghoon, you could hear the distinct sound of your heart breaking. One would think you would have gotten used to that sound by now. How pathetic.

Did you not know how it was gonna end from the beginning? or when you decided to be vulnerable and scare him away ? Did you really think you meant something to him? That you meant more to him than just a warm body to fuck? How many heart breaks would it take for you to realize that you were just convenient? Convenient and replaceable and so so naive. You wouldn't call yourself naive tho, you were just desperate. Choosing to ignore reality to live in momentary illusions of happiness. You guess this is what becomes of people who come out of broken homes, searching for little specks of love where it doesn't exist, deluding yourself till the glaring reality decides to shove you back to where you came from. Somewhere along the way, you had come to terms with the fact that you couldn't make people love you. You had always lacked that ability, to make someone want you, to make someone stay.

You picked on the scab of wound on your knuckle mindlessly, chuckling to yourself as tears started streaming down your face again. You out of all people should have known better. You had so much love inside of you and no one to give it to. And what was excess love if not grief? Where do you put this agony? How do you get rid of this aching need to be enough for someone else?

He must be with some other girl right now, some girl who didn't ruin his pleasure with random breakdowns and ugly sobs. Someone who wasn't so difficult and unlovable and excruciatingly clingy. you kept scratching till the healed skin was peeling off, making way for warm blood to ooze out. A sigh fell from your quivering lips at the familiar sting, wondering if he stayed when other girls asked him to.

Sunghoon downed his 6th shot of the night and yet, he was wide awake and functioning. He'd been sitting in this godforsaken bar for days but no amount of alcohol could take you out of his head. You were like a constant itch at the back of his mind. What fucked him up the most was the fact that he missed you. Utterly and desperately. And not just your body, he missed YOU. He missed your giggles and he missed your flustered smiles. He missed the way you sassed him when he teased you. He missed watching his big palms engulf your small ones.

The past few days had been enough to bring him to the glaring realization that he needed you. He cared about you. Your wails were still ringing in his ears and your broken voice when you told him to leave was haunting him at nights. His dark circles could attest to that. His hands shook with the desperate need to call you and hear your voice but he was a coward. He left you in your worst moment and the guilt and shame was eating him from the inside. What would he even say to you? You probably hated him now.

His mind drifted off to the conversation you had with him a few weeks ago. He'd been getting ready to leave when your soft, hesitant voice had spoken the words which changed the trajectory of his life. "c-can you stay?" you'd asked and sunghoon had looked at you like he'd seen a ghost. Your tiny figure had been wrapped in your white sheets while you peered up at him nervously, your fingers fiddling with the stray thread on the duvet. "can you stop being fucking clingy?" He'd replied, regretting his words as soon as he'd seen you visibly flinch. Then truth was that he'd been afraid. He was scared then and he was scared now. Scared of how badly he'd wanted to stay.

He downed another shot and hoped it would be enough to give him the liquid courage for what he was about to do.

You didn't know what to expect when your doorbell rang in the middle of the night. You were lounging on your couch in the living room, staring blankly at the romcom playing on your television. Your first thought was to ignore it, the emotional distress of the past few days had taken so much away from you physically that you had little to no strength left in your body.

But whoever was behind that door was persistent. Ringing and ringing till you couldn't help but heave yourself up from the couch in frustration.

You yanked the door open and froze. It took a few seconds for you to process the fact that he was standing in front of you and another few seconds to stop yourself from running into his arms. You swallowed harshly and stepped aside to let him in. His eyes were fixated on you and you were looking anywhere but at him. Not quite ready to face your demons just yet. You weren't surprised to see him at your door to be honest, he couldn't stay without sex for too long.

At least you are useful for something, you thought. You were in the middle of slipping off your top's strap down your shoulder when his voice interrupted you. "What are you doing?" He asked, making you look up at him, staring at him blankly. "Getting undressed" you replied in a solemn monotone like it was the most obvious thing in the world but he shook his head, his gaze intense "why? "

"Isn't that what you're here for?"

Your genuinely confused question hit sunghoon like a slap across the face. He knew that he had been treating you like shit but why were you treating yourself like this? It made him want to puke. He shook his head again and willed his heart to calm down "I'm not here to have sex with you"

His words sounded like static to you. Oh. He was here to break things off with you, because of course he was. Did you really think he was going to come back to you for sex after what you had done when he could have any girl he wanted for the night? You really were delusional. You bit your lower lip to stop it from wobbling when you felt tears gathering at your waterline. So this was it then? You really had driven another person you loved away from you successfully.

"I-im sorry, j-just don't hate me please" you spoke through gritted teeth, blinking rapidly to avoid crying in front of him again. If he couldn't love you, you wanted to make sure he didn't leave hating you. You honestly wouldn't be able to live with yourself if he did.

Sunghoon watched your cowering form inching away from him and he was overcome with an intense urge to wrap you in his arms and keep you close. You looked so scared and small standing there, asking him to not hate you. Silly little girl, he thought. How could he ever hate you?

He rubbed a shaky hand over his face to choose his next words carefully but you interpreted his actions the wrong way. Your throat constricted and you fisted the hem of your top tightly. The feeling of desperation was beginning to overpower your rational thoughts, what were you going to do if he left? Your feet moved before you could stop yourself and your shaky fingers were tugging on his shirt softly. When his dark eyes met yours, you couldn't stop the tears from pouring down your cheeks. "G-give me one chance, I won't ruin it this time" you hiccuped through your sobs. "Y/n- " please sunghoon i-i'll be so good and s- so quiet, just u-use m-your words were cut of by a sobbed gasp escaping your lips when sunghoon pinned you against the wall behind you forcefully, his body pressed firmly against yours. You stared up at him with wide teary eyes and he looked angry, the vein on his forehead throbbing visibly. "Stop that" He spoke sternly through gritted teeth and cupped your face in his palms, resting his forehead against yours. "Stop treating yourself like a fucking object y/n, this isn't you" His lips captured yours before you could react and the softness of the kiss caught you off gaurd. You didn't remember the last time you had been kissed with so much tenderness and you couldn't help but sob into his mouth, your hands fisting his shirt desperately. Sunghoon didn't stop kissing you. More like, he couldn't stop kissing you. Hoping that he could convey with his kiss, all the words that he couldn't say. His hold on your face was soft and you couldn't help but press yourself closer to his body, seeking warmth, looking for comfort. He pulled away briefly, his forehead still pressed against yours and he stared right into your soul. His thumbs reached up to wipe your tears and you hiccuped through your sniffles. "would you believe me if I said that I'm here to stay baby?" He asked softly. The sweet nickname was something he'd only called you in throes of passion sometimes, so the fact that he was consciously speaking to you with so much affection made your heart hurt. Hope fluttered like butterflies in your stomach and you searched his face. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to get lost in his affection even if he was lying, so exhausted from your emotional turmoil. Your eyes flooded with tears and you sobbed a pathetic "no" while you shook your head. Sunghoon closed his eyes and rubbed his nose against yours, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. "will you give me a chance to prove it to you?" He asked, his hot breath warming up your mouth. You bit your lower lip and buried your face into his chest, unable to stop yourself from crying your heart out. This felt like a fever dream and you wanted to stay in it a little longer. You wanted to feel his arms around you, holding you closer in a way only you had ever done to yourself. He wrapped your body in his embrace and sighed in relief, he couldn't comprehend how he'd gone so long without the feeling of you in his arms. "please baby, you're like air to me and i know that i have hurt you and i won't ask you to forgive me but these past few days have been hell and i don't think I can survive something like that again" He whispered his truth and it felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his chest.

He hated that he was always so afraid of his own feelings, hated that you were turning him into this emotional person that he was not. His words made you tighten your hold around his shoulders and you peeked up slightly to stare into his eyes. His eyes that were staring at you with so much adoration that you couldn't help the blush spreading across your cheeks.

He pecked your nose "let me inside your heart baby, I want to know what hurts you and makes you bleed, I want to swallow your pain if it's the last thing I do"

Your breathing had evened out from hearing him speak and you were suddenly coming to the realisation that he was asking you to give him a chance at loving you. Sunghoon wanted to love you. Your heart was beating rapidly across your chest at the possibility of your feelings being reciprocated and yet at the back of your mind, you couldn't help but question. Were you ready to let him in like that? would you be able to take it if he left you stranded again? You didn't know. But what you did know was that you were tired of running away.

"Okay" you whispered and his lips were immediately on yours, kissing you like his life depended on it, in a way it did. "Okay" He whispered back into your mouth and swallowed your whines, pressing you closer to himself, tasting you like he'd never given himself the liberty to.

There were so many things you wanted to ask him and so many feelings he wanted to express. But for now, okay was enough.

#enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen hard hours #enha #park sunghoon #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon x you #sunghoon imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #sunghoon angst

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mapiforpresident · 3 months ago

Text

Its Always Been You

alexia x reader

~~~

The stadium lights cast a soft glow over the pitch as you and Alexia jogged toward the center circle. Training had ended hours ago, but the two of you lingered, just like you had so many times before. The empty stands echoed with the faint sounds of your laughter as you passed the ball back and forth, the simplicity of it grounding you in a way few things could.

It had been this way for as long as you could remember. You and Alexia, side by side, growing up in the small fields of Mollet del Vallès, dreaming of someday making it big. You’d shared everything—trophies, heartbreaks, and countless late-night talks under the stars about life and love. But it wasn’t until this past year that you truly understood how much she meant to you.

"Still got it," Alexia teased, nudging the ball toward you with a grin.

"Always," you replied, stopping it effortlessly under your foot. "But you’re slowing down, old lady."

Alexia laughed, rolling her eyes. "I’m six months older than you. Don’t push your luck."

You smirked, but the familiar ease between you made your chest ache. You weren’t sure when it started—this shift in your feelings for her—but now it was undeniable. The way her laugh lit up your world. The way her eyes held yours a second too long. The way being around her felt like coming home.

“Remember when we were kids and used to stay out here until it was too dark to see the ball?” she asked, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.

You nodded. “Your mom would come yelling, telling us to get inside before we caught a cold.”

“She always thought you were the bad influence.”

“Me? You’re the one who insisted on practicing corners for hours,” you shot back.

Alexia shrugged, her smile turning softer. “Maybe. But look where we are now.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything stilled. Time, space, the years you’d spent as teammates, friends—everything came rushing back. You thought about all the people you’d dated, all the moments you’d tried to fill the void that only she could seem to occupy. It had taken you thirty years to realize it, but Alexia had been right there all along.

The silence stretched too long, so you nudged the ball toward her and said, “How about a little one-on-one? Let’s see if you’ve still got it.”

Alexia grinned, accepting the challenge. You both fell into the rhythm of the drill, laughter mixing with the sound of your feet pounding the turf. She was quick, as always, and for a second, you forgot about the feelings bubbling beneath the surface. You were just two players, pushing each other like you’d done your whole lives.

Then you lunged to steal the ball, and your foot caught hers. Alexia stumbled, and before you could stop your momentum, you fell on top of her.

“Lex! Are you okay?” you asked, heart pounding as you scrambled to brace yourself, your hands on either side of her head.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, laughing breathlessly. Her hands instinctively landed on your waist to steady you.

You looked down, your faces only inches apart, and froze. Her eyes met yours, wide and glinting under the lights. Time seemed to stand still. You could feel the rise and fall of her chest beneath you, her warmth radiating against you in the cool night air.

“Y/N…” she said softly, her voice almost trembling.

Before you even registered what you were doing, you leaned in. Your lips brushed hers, tentative at first, as if you were testing the waters. But the moment her mouth moved against yours, the hesitation melted away. You kissed her like she was the only thing tethering you to the earth, pouring years of unspoken emotions into that single moment.

When you finally pulled back, your heart was racing, and so was hers. Her cheeks were flushed, her gaze searching yours for something—reassurance, maybe, or an explanation.

“I—” you started, but Alexia’s hand moved to your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… was that real? Because I’ve been dreaming about it for a while.”

Your lips parted in surprise. “You have?”

Alexia nodded, her hand still resting on your face. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I just didn’t think you felt the same way.”

A shaky laugh escaped you, more disbelief than humor. “Are you kidding? Lex, you’ve been my whole world. I just— I didn’t realize it until recently.”

She smiled then, a slow, breathtaking smile that made your chest ache in the best way. “I guess we’ve been wasting a lot of time, huh?”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But we’ve got forever now.”

She nodded, her forehead pressing against yours as she whispered, “Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Promise you’ll hold me close,” she murmured. “Don’t let me go.”

You smiled, leaning into her touch. “I promise.”

The two of you stayed there for what felt like hours, tangled together in the center circle under the Barcelona sky. For the first time in your life, everything felt exactly as it should.

~~~

requests are open especially for:

Patri x reader x Pina

Alexia x reader

Mapi x Ingrid x reader

Lena Oberdorf

#woso #woso x reader #fcb femení #fcb femení x reader #fc barcelona femeni #woso imagine #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #woso imagines #fcb

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vividxpages · 6 months ago

Text

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ ﾟ｡⋆grieving methods ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡☾ ﾟ｡⋆

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 2500

summary: In the aftermath of your boyfriend's little brother's death, you try to comfort him as best as you can. (modern universe)

warnings: angst, grieving, hurt/comfort, crying, kissing and lots of tears

𓆩♡𓆪⛈

Silence greeted you as you quietly slipped into the house of your boyfriend.

You had been here countless of times before, but the rooms had always been filled with some sort of noise, keeping them busy and wonderfully alive. There usually was a warmth in them you often missed in your own home, but now it felt like all the lights had been blown out.

The funeral service had ended some hours ago, you knew that much.

You had not heard a single word from Jace since then.

You closed the door behind you, tucking away the key Rhaenyra had gifted you last Christmas, another big step of welcoming his eldest son’s girlfriend into her family. You were sure you’d gone insane today if it weren’t for the goddamn key. With no life sign of Jace, you had been worried sick all day. The service for Lucerys had been a very private one, given the nature of his tragic passing, and you had understood when you had learned only the closest family was allowed to partake.

It still didn’t mend the aching emptiness you had felt this morning, knowing deep down Jace needed you more than ever in those hours.

But you were here now. It was the least you could do.

You quietly made your way towards the staircase when you heard heavy steps across the hall, freezing. A pale and tired looking Rhaenyra emerged from the living home, her eyes puffy and exhausted as they landed on you.

You opened your mouth before she could. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before, but- I wanted to see if there is anything I can do to help and-“

“My dear girl.” She interrupted you, stepping forward until she could cup your cheek. “There is nothing to apologize for. I’m glad you’re here. I’ve told Jace to call you earlier, but he’s been in his room for a while now and we all decided to take some time for ourselves.”

You nodded in understanding, thinking of the other members of Jace’s side of the family you had learned to love so dearly.

“I’m glad he has you, dear.” She told you, smiling sadly and turning away shortly to wipe her eyes. “Maybe he won’t show it at first, but I believe he needs you more than ever now. Go on.”

You barely could stop yourself from running up the stairs like a mad woman.

You always had known your Jace was emotional, as protective as he was loving of his family, but you had no idea what to expect now. Earlier this week, he barely had been human, void and still in shock over the loss of his little brother, but would it had changed now after they had bid Lucerys a final goodbye?

You tried to steady yourself, taking a deep breath as you knocked twice on his door.

No answer.

He needs you more than ever now.

You slipped into his room.

Jacaerys was very tidy, usually, the only mess he allowed in his room the disheveled sheets after you had tumbled into them after a night out or a long morning in bed together. But although the curtains were closed now, barely letting any grey light from outside into his little realm, you could see how he had neglected his rule in the past days. Old clothes littered the floor, a old sheets had been messily thrown over his wall of pictures over the bed, the little faces of him and Luke, you and the rest of his family hidden so they couldn’t hurt.

The sight that broke your heart though was the lump on his bed.

Jace was curled up into a ball, his back facing the room. Only his dark curls were visible underneath the blankets. His childhood plushie, a green dragon named Vermax, was peeking out from this mess and your chest tightened with emotion when you spotted Lucerys’ version, a grey dragon named Arrax, close by. Jace must’ve taken him from Luke’s room to find comfort in him…

Jace gave no sign that he had heard someone enter, laying still as if he was sleeping.

But you knew better.

You walked over to his bed, the frame creaking a tiny bit as you sat down on the edge.

Instinctively, you reached out a hand and placed it where you assumed was his bony shoulder.

No reaction.

„Jace.“ You whispered into the silence, biting your bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. Right now, you needed to be there for him as he had been for you countless of times. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just- I wanted to let you know that I’m here if you need me. I-I’ll go too, if that’s what you want, but I needed to check on you. I’m so, so sorry…”

For a while, nothing happened except for the tiny tremors going through Jace as you still soothingly stroked your thumb over his shoulder, trying to keep your own sadness locked within yourself for him. You were sure if you started crying with him now, you’d never stop.

But then, the sheets rustled and you held your breath as Jacaerys slowly turned around in his bed, your hand slipping from his shoulder. Your stomach tightened painfully at the sight of his swollen eyes, rimmed by redness and salty tears still running down his cheeks. His neck was blotchy as if he was still holding back sobs after hours and he was trembling all over.

He looked so helpless, so lost and utterly destroyed that you wanted to take him, lock in into your heart and never let him out again.

“Jace…” You inhaled shakily.

He surged forward, burying his face in your neck and pulling you against him as he cried, the sobs shaking him so violently you could feel them rock through your body as well. It was heartbreaking to hear and feel and you slung your arms around him tightly, trying to hold the boy you loved so much together somehow.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, tears of your own clouding your vision as you rocked him back and forth, rubbing a soothing hand over his back, brushing through his curls… You had never seen him cry like this. It felt like he was coming apart in your arms, losing it entirely but still clinging to you in the hope you’d save him.

You had no idea how much time passed as you held him in your arms, feeling him gasp for air and shake as sobs shook his entire being. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you, I- I just was- I’m sorry…”

“There is nothing to be sorry about.” You cooed, your hands finding his cheeks and trying to brush away the river he was fighting and losing against. A hiccup escaped him as he tried to make a sound of protest and you raised his hands to your lips and kissed his knuckles.

“What can I do?” You whispered, brushing back a curl from his face. “I want to help you, my love. If there is anything…”

“I feel so heavy.” He whispered, voice raspy as he leaned his forehead against your shoulder. He still wasn’t really looking at you, but that was okay for now. “Like…I feel like today is on my skin and I’ll never be able to wash it off again.” His voice broke towards the last word and he shuddered, drawing you closer by the waist, a new wave of fresh tears dripping onto your collarbone.

You touched his chest, right over his broken aching heart and he held his breath.

Nuzzling into him, you swallowed against the lump in your throat and asked: “Do you trust me?”

Your boy had the saddest eyes in the whole world when he looked up at you. “Of course I do.” He answered in a quiet voice and you gave his hand in your lap a squeeze, slowly shuffling back so you could stand up and lead him.

You walked into the small bathroom attached to his room, a luxury you often had taken advantage of in the past. You had learned that Jace loved showers and loved them even more when you were in there with him, although those showers often ended with him on his knees and your head thrown back against the wall, trying to stifle your moans as he sensually ravished you with his tongue…

Now, he let you do what you wanted, standing completely still as you helped him undress, kicking away your own clothes in the process as you turned on the shower behind you and the room was filled with steam. When only his underwear and yours remained, you reached out a hand and led him under the spray of the shower, making sure it wasn’t too hot although that never bothered him.

You looked at him with love and sadness in your eyes and he looked right back into yours, finally allowing you to see him. His nose was running and you could see he had been biting at his lip, a little crust of red remaining on the bottom.

You tried to brush it away with your thumb and he exhaled sharply at the soft contact.

Cupping his cheek with your hand, you pressed your foreheads together, pleading: “Let me be of help.”

Carefully, you reached around him and grabbed his bodywash and a cloth. Jacaerys watched you silently, as if he could not explain himself why he was standing here, outside of his own body and mind. A fallen angel in your grasp.

Then, you began to clean him, your foam-covered hands on the body he thought dirtied and sullied by the heavy blanket of grief. He inhaled sharply at the contact, almost staggering back from the sudden gentle touch. But you moved with him and when your eyes met, both of their faces framed by your wet hair, you understood he allowed you this, allowed himself this.

Inch by inch, you washed away the imaginary dirt.

There was nothing sexual about it, you knew Jace’s body like you knew your own. He tilted back his head and closed his eyes, simply letting himself feel as your hands made their way into his hair, massaging his scalp with a layer of his shampoo, a smell you loved and made you sad now. He whimpered from the affection you offered him, unable to sort through his feelings and decide on one that needed the outlet the most.

Somewhere in-between he had begun to cry again and you softly spoke to him as you quickly rinsed off your hands, needing to touch him again, to remind him that you were here.

You slung your arms around his waist, leaning his head on your shoulder. “It’s okay.” You whispered, although nothing was okay and it wouldn’t be for a whole while. The water was dripping down your forms, both of your remaining clothes completely soaked by now. You blinked away your own salty tears once again and hoped he’d mistake them for droplets of water from the showerhead.

“Jace…”

He was already looking at you, mouth slightly open, eyes clouded.

The edges of his curls were brushing against your cheek, his lips briefly brushing against your own - and then, so quickly it gave you whiplash, his mouth was on yours, feverish and hot and bruising.

It was like falling over an edge.

A loss of control.

Jace held you impossible close, his slippery hands on your hips as he walked you backwards against the shower wall. You gasped, back aching as it hit the cold tiles, swallowing his own pained groan and for a second you wondered if you had hurt him somehow, but those thoughts quickly vanished as his tongue touched yours, the kiss becoming hurried and desperate.

You tried to keep up with his dizzying pace, holding on to his shoulders and kissing back with all your might when you suddenly realized that this was the words of grief he could not speak out loud yet. The only relief from the horrible last days he had gone through, his only shelter from the brewing storm above him.

But you also knew he was hurting and neither of you would forgive yourselves if you let this hurt go too far now.

“Jace, Jace, wait-“ You gasped against his lips, softly pushing at his shoulders until you could look at each other again, breathing heavily into the damp space between you. There was no look of bliss on his face or pleasure of what just happened between the two of you. “Let’s slow down, okay?”

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be sorry-“

“I have no right to just…use you like this.” Jace shook his head, brushing back his wet hair and shaking his head. “You wanted to help and I just make it all worse.” He gasped for air that wouldn’t reach his lungs.

“No, baby.” You murmured, taking his hand and resting it over your heart. “You’re not making anything worse and you’re not using me. Believe me, if I knew kissing you would make your pain go away, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But you’re grieving and you’re in a fragile state now. And that’s okay. But I’m here to take care of you, not make you even more unsteady, okay?”

He nodded, his bottom lip trembling. “I love you. I’m glad you’re here and- I want you to stay. Please.”

You had not planned on leaving.

You gave him a soft smile and together you made your way out of the shower, toweling each other down so you wouldn’t drip on the floor. Jacaerys murmured into your hair that he felt the tiniest bit better now, cleaner than before, and your heart nearly busted with love for this boy as you slipped a comfortable hoodie over his form and claimed one of his sleep shirts for your own.

His room was still clouded with darkness as you made your way into his bed, quietly slipping under the blankets and clinging to each other tightly. Jacaerys drew you close, inhaling your scent and sighing brokenly as your hand traced up and down his spine, the two of you sinking into his sheets like children.

Your legs tangled together, one of your legs slung over his waist and your hand buried in his curls as you listened to his breathing slowly coming down. The wing of his plushie dug into your back, but you didn’t care. You would not move, maybe not ever again if it meant his serenity.

He sighed, pressing a small kiss onto your throat before nuzzling your neck with his nose. He was utterly exhausted, on the brink of simply collapsing into unconsciousness.

Nothing was good.

You weren’t sure if it’d ever be again.

But as you held him in your arms, you knew that whatever was yet to come for him, you’d be there to stand it through, together.

#jace velaryon x reader #jace targaryen #jace velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd #jacaerys targaryen x reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 28 days ago

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More pjo things that I’ve thought about. More or less things/ behaviours they only have towards you.

Percy would hate going back to an empty cabin, so he just drags you along with him instead.

He doesn’t like how void of life and laughter it is that sometimes he’d sneak himself into your cabin to join you if he couldn’t wait until the next day to see you.

Percy just hates being alone with his thoughts and stuff that he’s more then often doing anything in his power to not be on his own for longer then a hour, it typically never ends well and so he just tries to fill time by doing whatever he could with you in order to have his mind fixated on the new memories, and not the ones he’s still not ready to confront just yet.

Thoughts such as whether Luke was right (he was)

So yeah impromptu sleepovers at cabin 3 are a thing you do.

The gods ask far too much out of him, so when he has time with you, all he wants to do is either nothing at all or mundane things that reminded him that he was someone outside of being a demigod. So baking foods and dying them blue was a favoured pass time for you both before it quickly dissolved into a fight that ends with a really cute kiss.

You guys are sickeningly sweet to everyone but they can’t look away either because if they want to know what a healthy relationship looked like, they’d just look at you and Percy as he’s splashing you with water, meanwhile you can’t do shit because he can’t get wet unless he will himself to. You call him a cheater for this but find that you can’t stay mad at your water boy for very long when he’s giving you sea puppy dog eyes and a cute pout.

He’s even attempted to make you something out of the seashells he’s found amongst other things he’s found at the bottom of the lake, with some help of course, and would beam brightly when he sees that you’ve kept them in good use afterwards that he didn’t mind if a shell or two fell off because as long as you were using what he gifted you Percy didn’t care.

With Percy to be loved is to be a comforting thought, a guiding light in the bleaker moments and a tether to one’s own humanity.

Leo utilises his talents to make something for you that you end up having scattered across your bedside table.

He’s the kind to say ‘you want to kiss me so bad’ but the moment you do give him a kiss, whether it’s his lip, cheek, forehead or even his nose, he’s silent as a mouse and is looking at you as though he was seeing you for the first time.

This dude is a living furnace and a sassy bastard, so if you’ve got a lot to get off of your chest please let this man be the first to know and he’s more then willing to cradle you in his arms as you both chat shit on those that you don’t like.

Leo doesn’t even need to hear the whole story to know whose side he’s on because it’s yours and only yours! He’s in your corner no matter what, hell he’d even support your wrongdoings if you wanted him to and needles to say he’s the man who boosts your self confidence more than anyone else. Without a shadow of a doubt.

Also by the end of the rants your more then likely to be fast asleep as this man runs hotter then most and Leo will shamelessly admire you as you slept against him before feeling left out and joining you in your dreams. He’s a sweetheart and wherever you went, Leo will always follow.

With Leo to be loved is to be seen, thought about and cherished as though you were a treasure only found once in a lifetime.

Nico would tolerate you more than others.

He keeps to himself but he can be often found within your company as though he were your second shadow.

He’s weary of the people who’d come your way, but that’s mainly due to the fact that he’s been through so much and had much taken away from him unfairly, he’s naturally going to want to keep a tight grasp on what he still has while he could.

So needless to say he forms somewhat an attachment to you that Chiron and Mr D considered borderline worrisome considering the hod whom Nico was the forbidden child of. Yet they knew that there wasn’t much that can be done to undo what had already been done.

So when your on quests, Nico is more then likely to follow afterwards if he can get away with it.

If he can’t then he’s most likely to stay near your cabin -the only thing that he had of you- and waits for you to come back on your bed, the longer your gone the more likely you’ll find him fast asleep in your bed, making you smile at how sweet he could be underneath his hardened persona.

You knew the sweet boy Nico use to be was still in there, and he knew it too, so don’t be surprised when he comes back from travelling through the shadows to bring you something that would make you feel a little less shittier. He acts like it doesn’t matter but he just wants you to be okay and doesn’t like the idea of being in able to help you when you’ve been nothing but accommodating to him and his needs after everything.

With Nico to be loved is to be at peace with the silence and welcome it, for words tends to loose meaning when overused to the point it losses meaning. For nothing every proclamation of love has to be said aloud, when it can be said in a whisper also.

Luke is overly more affectionate to you compared to the rest of camp and it shows.

There’s an arm being tossed over your shoulder here, and a nudge against your side with his elbow here, with a sprinkle of his head resting against your shoulder for added effect.

It was as if it came natural to the son of Hermes to always be touching you somehow, as though he couldn’t go a minute without having a hand on you to guide you away from other campers when he wanted to show you something he was keen you’d like.

While sitting at tables that weren’t your own was a camp rule not to be broken, Luke would either save you a seat at his table or even joins you at yours on the odd occasion, much to the curiosity of the rest of camp.

So you knew for certain this was going to be talked about for a good while as he only smiles mischievously at those who wanted to know what was going through his mind when doing such a thing, all despite knowing that he’ll end up with extra chores to do because of it.

He’s very intuitive towards you and poetically knows you better then you know yourself on most days, so it’s not surprising when he’s taking you out of a situation that you find stressful and somewhere less crowded for you both, only to find that he’s set up a lovely little picnic for you as well as you both overlooked the lake in comfortable silence as you just enjoy the others company.

With Luke to be loved is to be known deeper then any ocean, revered with respect and to be valued more then surface level.

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covetyou · 2 months ago

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digital

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (like the wevibe jive or lovense lush/vulse), masturbation, phone sex, fluff, mild angst and serious yearning, novelty hats, Joel doesn't forget the balls, reader has a mom (inc. vague mentions of other family), no use of y/n word count: 4k summary: You're exhausted. The special kind. The kind that only comes with visiting your family for Thanksgiving. Still, the exhaustion can't keep that yearning ache at bay, the ache you've been fending off all day. So, in the dark of the night, you reach out to Joel in the only way you can.

A/N: we're ignoring that this is well over 2 weeks later than I planned. we're not ignoring that this is the penultimate fic in this accidental series. the final installment will be coming to you all sometime in the coming weeks, and I hope you can join me in seeing off these two lovebirds right where it all began. see you soon 💛

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

It's late when you fall into bed, sinking into the shape of yourself indented into a mattress you'd long left behind.

You're exhausted. The special kind. The kind that only comes with visiting your family for Thanksgiving.

It was stupid to have expected anything else really. Between the travelling, over indulgence, and endless socializing and catching up with family, there wasn't a chance you'd be anything other than bone tired and irritable. Wasn't that how these things always went?

In fact, from the moment you'd been welcomed by your mom with open arms and an it's good to have you home, you'd been annoyed. You couldn't even quite put your finger on why until Joel had sent his first message that morning; a picture of him and Sarah in matching holiday t-shirts, wearing matching squinting eyed grins, with a message that read wish you were here, and you wished you were too.

It wasn't until the fifth welcome home that day that you realized home hadn't been this place in a long time. Home, instead, was a million miles away, in Austin, Texas.

Home was sat on his couch, sharing a bag of chips with his daughter.

Home was chatting shit with his brother, cracking open a cold one on the patio.

Home was probably curled up in bed, holding a pillow close to himself to fill the empty space left by you.

Home was Joel Miller.

And home wasn't here.

At dinner, you'd made a decent effort to fill the Joel shaped void in your chest with mashed potatoes and stuffing, eating until your stomach ached so much that any other part of you couldn't possibly ache for any other reason. By the time dessert rolled around, the longing was back, clawing at you and pulling you toward a family that could be yours, if only you'd let it, until you filled that aching void again with too much pie and wine.

It was back now, that ache. Softer and gentler now that you were alone. More creeping than clawing as it worked its way back up your spine, latching at your throat with a squeeze rather than the bruising grip from earlier in the day.

It was that very same ache - that longing - that made you send maybe the most pathetic text you'd ever sent in your life.

you up?

He shouldn't be, you don't think. If it's late here it's even later there. He has a kid. Responsibilities you have been reminded over and over by "well meaning" family members that you don't have. At any rate, he had better things to do than to keep you company in the middle of the night, when the longing got too much to bear alone. Because you are alone, in this house filled with people - people you love - and you think that maybe you've never been more alone than now because, suddenly, alone feels a lot like lonely and -

The shrill ring of your phone stops your spiralling thoughts and, in a panic, you slap at the screen just to shut it up, rolling over until the brightness of it blinds you, and then you hear him.

His familiar drawl is softer than usual. He sounds tired, but content, almost like you can hear the smile in his voice and the crinkle in his eyes.

"Was hopin' I'd hear from you."

Your brain has stuttered to a stop. You're not breathing, not blinking, barely moving where you lie on your front, propped on your elbows, staring down at the too-bright screen of your phone where Joel stares back. It's just a picture - one you'd taken some weeks ago as you sat next to him on his couch and had looked at every day since. It was a good picture. He looked beautiful - soft and comfortable in his own home, looking right at you. Fuck, do you miss him.

"Hello? Y'ain't fallen asleep on me that quick, have you?"

You blink, shake yourself, and curse under your breath, catching Joel's raspy laugh as you fumble with your phone and smack it to the side of your head much harder than you meant to.

"Fuck, fuck, ow, yes, sorry. Hello," you garble, before taking a deep breath. "Hello. Hi."

"Hey there, darlin'," he says back, that smile so evident on his voice you're grinning right back at him in the dark. "You okay? Doze off for a little there?"

"Sorry it's - it's just your voice. Sounds better than I remember," you laugh softly. "Wasn't expecting it."

"Only been a couple days," he teases, and the familiar, comfortable ease of being with Joel blankets you. From what feels like so very far away he's managed to crawl back into your chest and illuminate the dark, empty cavern inside of it in a matter of moments. You never stood a chance.

"I know," you sigh as you roll over and flick on a bedside lamp to keep the creeping dark at bay. "I've missed you. Today was... not fun."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

By this point you knew him well enough to know he was running his tongue across his teeth, nodding in that gentle, understanding way he did whenever you'd complain about work, or how you'd kicked the kitchen cabinet by accident yet again. For as much as he'd barrelled into your life, he was always so very gentle with the parts you gave, and even gentler with the parts that you weren't yet ready for him to see. Fuck, do you love him.

He hums then, in just the way you'd expect, and you listen to the delicate sounds of each others breaths for a beat before he breaks the silence.

"Wanna tell me what that surprise you were teasin' me was instead?"

Shit. You'd forgotten about that. Sort of.

This morning you'd almost pulled it out, plan set to tease Joel with it all day. One look at the thing in your hand, and the idea of your cunt pulsing away while you tried to have a conversation with your mother turned you off from that idea entirely.

Now, it sat back in your bag, tucked away and hidden in the closet, away from the prying eyes of your family, and almost forgotten entirely by you.

"It can wait," you say hastily, flapping a hand in the air as if there was any chance he could see you.

"Now hold on a sec. You were teasin' me with that all week. Told me I couldn't have it at home, it was best to show me from all the way over there. Now, I don't know what you're plannin', but you got two days to show me what mischief you been makin', sweetheart, or all that fuss before was for nothin'."

You don't answer, instead eyeing the closet and weighing up your chances of waking anyone in the house if you did show Joel the little surprise you'd been planning on giving him for weeks.

"Think I can make a few guesses, don't you?"

"You could try," you scoff, knowing Joel's eyebrows are making a valiant attempt to meet his hairline right now.

"Try?" he asks, all too innocently. "Just tell me somethin', then. You doin' that thing where you touch yourself without even realizin' it?"

Your hand stops just at it's about to make another loop across your chest and down the softness of your stomach. "No."

He tuts down the line, and you can see the tick of his head behind your eyes, pinched shut as if he'd just caught you in the act in person.

"And you're gonna tell me your little surprise got nothin' to do with that."

That happened to be the way you always found yourself touching yourself in some way whenever you spoke to Joel, from whatever distance you found yourself from him. Not always in a sexy way either, though more often than not it was. Sometimes it was just soothing, you supposed. Listening to him talk while your hands played idly on your skin calmed you better than just about anything else, and here you were, soothing yourself with his voice from across the miles, your hands tracing the patterns you wished his could. It was nice - a connection to him even through the distance that wasn't just audible, but physical too.

Which was the exact point of your little surprise - a way to be with Joel without actually being with Joel.

"It might."

Joel's stubborn silence is about all you need to know the man isn't about to back down and let you off the hook any time soon. "Fine, but you've got to give me a second to grab it."

You huff in faux annoyance and haul your ass out of bed, tired bones creaking, but the weariness you'd felt all day slowly fading away as excitement creeps in to replace it.

"Can hear you movin' around."

You're glad for it. You hope he can hear every single thing - the soft click of the closet door, the thud of pillows propped up on the bed you spent years of your life sleeping in, the creak of springs as you settle yourself back into the unfamiliar sheets covering it, how you pull up your shirt just so and rest the surprise you'd stashed away across the miles right between your bare breasts. You hope he hears you fumble and tap at your phone as you take picture after picture, until you get one just right, and scramble to hit send.

It's a hope that's realized when you hear his breath hitch and the words get lost in his throat.

"Well," he says with a cough. "Don't quite know what the surprise for me is. Never hid those beauties from me before though, so I'm gonna have to say it's the pretty thing between 'em. Think I can guess where it goes. You gonna let me listen in?"

"Maybe," you say just as you hit send on another message to Joel. "Was kinda hoping you'd give me a hand though."

"What -"

He sounds muffled, but you can hear him mumbling to himself as his thick fingers tap away at his phone screen. And then, exactly as you hoped, the toy sitting on your chest rumbles to life and you could almost cry at the feeling. You grasp it in your fist, just as the other motor hums into action and starts gently thrusting against your palm. For a moment, the intensity gets so much your skin starts to tingle, until it dies down and then finally rumbles to a stop.

"This what I think it is? You really get this so I can play with you like this?" he asks, voice laced in disbelief.

"Yeah," you say, the toy in your hand purring into action again.

"You ain't put it in yet, have you?"

"Not yet," you murmur. "But I can feel you."

"Yeah?" he says, and a moment later the vibrations strengthen and weaken against your hand, like a wave coming in strong before pulling back out to sea. "Y'feel that?"

"Mhm."

The toy buzzes to life and quickly shuts off over and over, short stacatto bursts of vibrations tickling your hand, and you laugh at the silliness of it. "Joel. That's not gonna get anyone off. You're just gonna break it."

"What? It ain't nice like that?" he jokes.

"Feeling you is always nice."

"Know what'd be even nicer?" he asks. "Takin' off them panties and lettin' me really put this thing to use. Feel me where you really need it. Know you gotta be wet down there - your brain don't shut off like that when I'm talking to you if you ain't."

Your panties are flung across the room barely a moment later, your fingers skating gently along the edges of them before you yanked them down your legs. You are wet, panties soaked through in the middle, cunt sensitive and ready for a cock that isn't coming. Despite the obvious emptiness, and even more painfully obvious lack of Joel in the room, you know you're about to come quicker than you have in some time. You can barely swipe your own fingers through your slick folds, gathering your own wetness to smear it over the toy, without holding back a moan.

"That's it. Can hear you. Think we oughta start off nice 'n' gentle, huh?"

The air hitches in your lungs as the toy thrums to life. You guide the gentle buzz down your front, leaving a slick trail of your own wetness over the softness of your belly, before teasing down and down, between your legs and across already twitching thighs.

You circle your cunt with it, teasing with its vibrating tip, eyes pinched shut while Joel keeps it soft and steady for you as you slip it across slick coated skin and up to your clit.

"That good?"

He sounds so soft, almost breathless. You hope he's touching himself too, but you don't have the words to ask. If you open your mouth you're going to let out the moan you're so desperately holding back, your bottom lip sore with it, and the idea of anyone waking up, of ruining this for you now when it's just begun, is enough to keep your lips sealed tight.

"Mhm."

"S'good. Think you're playin' with that clit now, huh?"

You nod. Stupidly. Yet somehow he knows. He always knows. And the toy buzzes harder, intensity sliding up so gently as you were swirling it around yourself you almost didn't notice until the vibrations dancing past your clit forced the moan out of you, face turned into the pillow to stifle it.

"Gotta keep quiet," he says then. "Y'aint alone over there, darlin'. But I ain't with you to put that mouth to use either."

You groan again. You can't control it. It comes out low and strong, the phone you were grasping so tightly left forgotten against the pillow by your ear so you can clutch the plush pillow to your face instead, biting it.

"Too good," you say around a mouthful of pillow. "I need to put it in, Joel, it's gonna make me come too fast - shit - just knowing - knowing you're there, doing that and I - fuck..."

"Put it in. Slip it in that wet little hole for me. You feel that? Feel me in there?"

It's easy, sliding it into you. It's only small - you certainly have bigger - but so very powerful. Not the motor, no, but the way it, and Joel's control over it, have you a sopping mess already.

"I feel you," you say, Joel turning sliding on the other setting - the thrust you felt in your palm minutes ago - setting the toy wiggling and buzzing inside you. "Fuck, I feel you."

You dig your nails into your thighs, letting them bite into the soft, sensitive flesh to pull you back, to pull you down from whatever high you were going toward. It's too much and it's not enough all at once. You want him - need him - desperately, but he's so damn far away and somehow that makes this all the sweeter and all the more bitter, all in one.

"Wish I could be fuckin' you for real, feel you twitchin' on my cock. You twitchin'?" he asks, that breathlessness back in his voice again, and you just know he's joining you. You can see his hand gripped tight around his cock, his head slick and ruddy, squeezing more than stroking, holding back just like you were desperately trying to.

"Don't want to yet. Want this to last - ah - won't have you for days."

"Look at you," he mutters, the vibrations inside you kicking up a notch. "Can't go a few days without me."

And you never want to again.

"Touch that clit for me. Wish I could do it for you. Know how much y'need it."

At his guidance, your grip on your thighs releases. You stroke one quivering hand across your mound. You're so tense. From the day, sure, but from holding back too. All damn day you've held back. Held back looking at your phone in front of anyone. Held back saying Joel's name, mentioning the man who had you so distracted even from so far away. Held back talking about his amazing daughter, and the little family you'd accidentally and gladly fallen into. Held back telling everyone about the life you'd carved for yourself a million miles away from here, so different from the one you left behind. Held back, held back, held back.

Even now you're holding back, but fuck, are you ready to fly.

"Need to see you," you beg, a little too loudly, but you can't bring yourself to care. The combination of him working away in your cunt and your fingers stroking against your swollen clit are too much. You need to see him. "Please. I'm close. I'm -"

There's a shuffle and then the screen illuminates against your face just as the pulsing throb in your cunt gets stronger. You fumble, grabbing it just before it slips beneath your shoulder, and squint against the brightness, eyes adjusting until you see the beautiful face of Joel.

He's smiling. Face as flushed as you imagine yours is.

"Fuck -" you gasp. He looks better than you remember. Even at this terrible angle, the extreme close up of his face. He's shirtless. You can see his bare, tanned collarbones, the slope of his traps into his shoulders. "Fuck."

"You really that close?" you watch him say, your eyes fixated on the way his mouth moves around each word. So fixated, you barely notice him pull back the camera, or shift it upwards, until his full head is in view.

Including the turkey hat perched on top of it.

You almost stop swiping your fingers across your clit.

Almost.

"You asshole," you moan, as Joel's face lights up. He frowns then too, a look of concentration flicking over his face, tukey legs flapping by his ears, until you feel the damned thing rumbling inside you thrust wilder, wiggling against that very spot usually reserved for Joel's fingers. "Fu-uck. You - you just put that hat on. I heard you."

"This old thing?" he says with wobble of his head that sends the turkey flopping from side to side.

"Take it off. I'm close Joel, I-"

He shrugs. You watch him fucking shrug as you speed up the movement of your fingers, teasing yourself as he teases you in every sense of the word and, somehow, it does nothing but get you wetter, sends your legs quivering and your brain desperately trying to hold on for a little bit longer. "Don't think it's enough to stop you. Never had a problem comin' before. Think you can come no matter what I'm wearin'."

"Fuck," you say again, because it's true. And he smirks, because he knows it is too.

"You can do it. Keep rubbin' that thing for me, can tell you're so fuckin' close."

"Are you hard? Please. I need to know, I can't, I'm - I -"

"Where the fuck do you think my other hand is, huh? You wanna see 'im? Know you said you missed me but I bet you're really fuckin' missin' him right now, ain't you?"

"Please."

You're loud. You know you are. Even as you beg, you know it's too loud, and you know these walls are too damn thin for this. The only thing saving your ass right now is holiday exhaustion and too much pie.

When Joel flips his camera, you damn near come immediately. He's cupping his balls, massaging them while his solid cock desperately leaks. He's holding himself back for you - fuck, you love him - he's waited for you all this time, hoping to hear from you, thinking of you as he played with himself alone, so far away from you and your helping hands.

"Oh my god, I swear, I swear I've never wanted it more. I need it."

"I believe you," he breathes, jerking his cock in his massive hand. "You're gonna get it, darlin'. Second you're back here, gonna bend you over your kitchen counter and fuck you right there. Keep makin' them pretty noises for me now. That's it. Need more fuckin' hands..."

"I'm gonna, I'm gonna -"

And you do. Joel makes one last flick across his phone screen, the intensity rumbling in you reaching a peak, your fingers rub, rub, rubbing at your clit as you watch his heavy cock throb in his hand, and you come, clenching and fluttering around the unrelenting toy as you swear and moan right down the phoneline.

Joel isn't far behind. Even fucked out and exhausted, you somehow keep your eyes open, keep the toy lodged in you, buzzing away, pulling aftershocks out of you as you watch Joel work his cock until he's spilling all over his fist and thigh with a shakey groan.

"Shit."

You yank the toy from you when it becomes too much to bear, leaving it wet and rumbling on the sheets. Joel cleans up - a softly murmurred be right back, leaving you face down on his bed as you become a boneless sack filled with too much pie and longing in your own bed, so very far from his.

"You made me come in a turkey hat," you say sleepily when his face reappears on your phone screen, that very same hat still pulled tight on his head. You can see his own exhaustion now, each line and shadow on his face exacerbated by the late hour and low light.

"Think we both know you came with me wearin' weirder before. You like the weird."

"You like the weird."

"I love the weird."

He yawns. His massive hand covering his mouth, eyes closing in on themselves, rolling his head - and that stupid turkey hat - on his neck, and he's maybe never looked better. Silly, sleepy, content. Yours.

"I love you."

You don't know why you say it, exactly. You suppose you think it so loud it just slipped out. Fuck knows you'd toyed with it enough. Started saying how much you love his laugh or love his hair in the morning. Text him it. You love him. It should be easy. But it wasn't, even if he said it to you a thousand times over, a thousand different ways, without the many miles between you.

Joel doesn't hesitate, not even for a second. "Come say that to my face."

"I will," you say. "I promise, I will."

There's four days between you, and as many phonecalls. As many I love you's too. Practice makes perfect, they say. And you have a promise to keep.

You say another I love you to your mother when she pulls you in for one last hug, and you mean that just as much, even though that's never been easy either. Practice makes perfect.

She pulls away, pushing you toward something else, when you load your bags into the car, welcome home turned to safe journey home. From where home was to where home is. You know she sees it too.

Soft smiles, a kiss to your head. Whispers of I'm so happy for you, I can't wait to meet him, and you're off, away, longing for where love is.

She sees it too.

When you land in Austin that evening, you drive past the door with the lock that started it all, the key sat forgotten at the bottom of your bag. One knock is all it takes, and he's there.

"I love you."

next part

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