#i hope noone minds me tagging them!!!

[fanishjuli]

sometimes in life it'll be 2am and you'll be scrolling tumblr and thinking about azicrow and be suddenly struck with a very deep longing to reread some of your favourite @ineffablefool fics because you're carving the Soft Zone and you know no-one writes it quite like him. so this is my PSA today: go read Jack's fics if you haven't already, they Will improve your life, no need to thank me

[sexlapis]

Ho! I loooooooveeee your actor toji fics! Is it possible to get added to the taglist? Thank you ~

Also an idea: a bts scene of reader getting sick on set(perhaps even collapsing) due to fatigue and toji taking care of them- I feel like that'd be such a hit ship moment irl :D

thank you for liking my fics <3 you can be added to the tag list 🩵.

and omg yeah i love that idea of reader overworking themselves and toji looking after them :’). and yeah i didn’t make it a behind the scenes clip i made a short fic abt it bc i do not know when to stop.. like give me an idea and i will fly away w it like a bird liek..i don’t even think this is what you asked for srsly…i hope you don’t mind (but i’ll add it to my tojiyn headcanons hehe)

cw: actor toji x actress reader, hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, swearing, petnames (‘kid’, ik people don’t like this one but i think it’s so sweet & so toji :)), collapsing, mentions of skipping meals/not eating, poor sleeping habits, feelings of loneliness & inadequacy, crying, toji taking care of reader, i made this way more angsty than you asked sorry :(

wc: 2k+

you dragged yourself through the doors of the studio, immediately bombarded by directors, stylists, scrip writers and other cast members on your way to the dressing room, only fuelling your fatigue and stress.

sleep was a foreign concept at this point. five hours at most. so were healthy, filling meals - the last time you ate was yesterday at noon, and for breakfast today all you had was a cup of coffee, not helping your nervous, exhausted state.

admittedly, you were not doing very well. you felt that your acting was subpar and you felt lonely and isolated on set. while everyone went with their friends for a break or lunch, you sat by yourself in your dressing room, your only company being the silence.

sure, toji was also on set too, but he played a very minor role, so he wasn’t always there. and even when he was sometimes, he would hang out with the other crew members, which wasn’t a problem of course, but it did sting a little when he chose them over you.

you just felt so lonely, anxious and quite frankly upset at yourself and the circumstances you find yourself in.

there are a few knocks at your dressing room door and you weakly tell them to come in.

toji peeks is head in. “hey, kid. we start in five..” he takes a look at your weary face, dark eye bags prominent even through the makeup the stylists caked on and the frown on your lips and just knows something is wrong.

“are you ‘right?” he asks quietly, like you’re a deer who’s about to run away at the slightest of sounds.

“yes, i’m fine.” you lie, a voice in the back of your mind wishing he’d just ignore you like everyone else on this damn set does.

“‘you sure? ‘cause you don’t look-”

“i said im fine! just get out.” you snap, heart beating and breathing heavily at your own outburst.

fuck. you didn’t mean to say that.

but toji doesn’t look offended. he just nods and walks away footsteps fading as you put your head in your hands and sob.

so there you are, acting in front of the camera with your colleague in a scene where toji appears in too and you just seem off. everyone assumes it’s just not your day today and they’re not exactly wrong. you lines were slightly forced, tired and you were jittery and clearly apprehensive, like you didn’t even want to be here.

“cut!” the director calls out, more than annoyed with your behaviour. it was the sixth take and you’re really trying to make it believable, but it’s futile.

“this is the sixth take _____. this is ridiculous. get your act together. let’s take five.”

you look down at your shoes, face hot and chest thudding with embarrassment due to the director calling you out in front of everybody. tears well up in your eyes and you sigh, blinking them away as everyone starts talking again, walking away leaving you standing there like an idiot.

it all becomes too much for you. your empty stomach, oncoming headache, exhausted body, dry mouth, furrowed eyebrows, sweaty palms-

you let your script fall out of your hand as you stumble off the green screen, trying to get to your room before a hand is grabbing your arm. you turn around and it’s toji again.

“hey..” he leans down slightly to your height, scanning you over once. “you don’t look so good, _____-”

you shrug him off, vision becoming blurred with black static and limbs heavy and shaky. “i-i jus’ need to go. to my..uhm-” you stop, rubbing a hand down your face harshly. “i just-”

and then there is black.

౨ৎ

you come to and realise that you are laying on your dressing room couch, staring up at the ceiling. reaching up, you feel a wet, cool cloth on your head. you take it off. still fuzzy and body essentially lethargic, you try to sit up.

“hey, hey, hey.” toji whispers.

oh, toji’s here.

“take it easy.” he helps you sit up on the arm of the couch. he hands you a bottle of water and you drink it like a god.

“wait, what happened?” you ask, still confused and disoriented.

“you fuckin’ fainted that’s what,” he states bluntly. “scared the fuckin’ dogshit outta me.”

“oh.”

toji sits beside you on a chair, looking at you closely. you look down.

“the med team checked you out.” he tells you. “said you fainted, collapsed-whatever the fuck. ‘cos of stress and exhaustion. they even checked your blood sugar and said it was low as fuck.” he pauses. “not dangerously low,” he adds at the sight of your worried expression, “but.. low enough.”

you sigh, falling back on the couch. you think back to how the director shouted at you, how annoyed he was, and how humiliated you felt. tears start to form again and you cover your face with your hands, not wanting to cry in front of toji. you felt like you’ve had enough embarrassment for today.

toji leans forward. “what’s happening with you?”

the way he said it, so soft and concerned, makes the tears fall down and cause sobs to escape your mouth, hiccuped breaths falling from your mouth.

“hey, hey, hey..” toji coos. he reaches to you and makes you sit up again so he can take you into his arms. you let him, sobbing into his shoulder and sucking up all the comfort he gives you. toji’s big hand strokes your hair and the other caresses your back softly.

“shh, sh, sh…” he calms you down a little, you sobs turning into sniffles. he leans back and gives you space but his hands stay planted on your back. “tell toji what’s wrong.”

you hum sadly, looking down and gulping. “i’m..i’m tired. i wanna sleep..”

toji waits for you to continue. he can see you want to say more so he doesn’t hurry you along, he just rubs your back and nods to let you know you’re listening.

“i..” you take a breath, “i dunno what to do..i can’t do this fucking role.. i’m fucking tired half the fucking day and my so called colleagues don’t even like me!” you try to calm yourself down, taking another shaky breath. “and i just feel..lonely all the time..” you cry out the last few words, feeling another sob session coming up and toji pulls you close, letting you ruin his shirt with your tears as he rocks you back and forth in his arms.

“it’s okay, it’s okay..” he coos, resting his face in your hair.

you both stay like that for a few moments, you weeps dying down before toji talks.

“you can play this part, _____. ‘you have any idea how good your are, huh? you can act circles around half ‘these guys.”

you scoff, pulling your lips together. “i dunno about that..”

“‘m serious. _____, you can act, okay? ‘wouldn’t have made it this far if you couldn’t.”

“yeah but..this one’s hard..” you sigh, voice cracking but toji doesn’t let you start again.

“yeah, acting’s hard. but i can help you,” toji cups your wet face with his hands, wiping the tear streaks that paint you face, “we can all help you. the crew, your friends, that bitchass director. i’ll put a gun to everyone’s head to make them fuckin’ help you with this.”

you giggle at his seriousness and he huffs, relieved that you’re relaxing a little.

“they don’t hate you, y’know. everybody on set. the cast. they just think you’re a little shy and quiet. they don’t hate you, okay?” toji reassures you. you nod absentmindedly and he shakes your head from side to side to make you pay attention, making you smile, eyes crinkling even though they’re still tear stricken. “there she is..who the fuck could hate you, huh?”

“ugh, toji.” you roll your eyes, sniffling and rubbing your face. you pull away from him. “ugh..i just want my bed right now.”

“yeah..i know it ain’t my place but told the director that you’re taking a few days off. you need a break, kid.”

you didn’t even argue with him. you couldn’t.

“yeah, i do.” you agree.

suddenly, a loud rumble from your stomach erupts, it was like an earthquake.

toji laughs. “someone’s hungry.”

you groan. “‘m starving. haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“we’re getting you something to eat.” he states, leaving no room for objections.

toji stands, holding his hand out for you to take. you do, his large, calloused hand dwarfing yours as he helps you stand up. “can you walk?”

“i will if there’s food involved.”

“that’s good.” toji chuckles, “how’s takeout sound?”

a/n: had to write a whole fic abt this i apologise 🥸 will add the tag list later i just keep forgetting the users </3

[thebestofoneshots]

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Summary: You meet Sirius and Regulus at a family vacation in the Caribbean, but things don't go as planned and you end up losing contact once the trip is over. Years later your family moves to England and you get accepted at Hogwarts where you finally meet Sirius once again, along with all of his friends. One of them with a mysterious secret, that you'll uncover as you embark on your own Hogwarts adventure. Mostly canon-compliant. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Read Gilded Constellations on AO3

Read the French Translation by @nagareboshi-chiyo

Paring: Sirius Black x Reader / Remus Lupin x reader / Wolfstar x reader

Chapter average: 5k - 6.5 k

Content: Smut in later chapters, Poly!Marauders, throuple, graphic descriptions of violence, MAJOR and minor character death (this is The Marauders Era guys, you know), jealousy, angst, pining, love triangle, LGBTQ+ themes, The Wizarding war 1.0, implied child abuse, possible proofreading errors, mental health struggles, hurt no comfort, hurt with comfort, period typical attitude, first war with Voldemort, canonical character's death, fluff, Requited Love, F/M/M, mostly canon-compliant.

Status: Ongoing (Weekly updates)

♡ Indicates SMUT

PLAYLIST

01 | Summer Breeze

02 | Escape

03 | Bitter Sweet Symphony

04 | Rainy Days and Mondays

05 | Good times

06 | Crazy Little Thing Called Love

07 | Peaceful Easy Feeling

08 I Fooled Around and Fell in Love

09 | The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroke

10 | Black Dog

11 | Do Ya

12 | You really got me

13 | Rebel, Rebel

14 | Maybe I’m Amazed

15 | No One Like You

Interlude (Q&A Event)

16 | Boogie Wonderland

17 | Tonight’s What It Means To Be Young

18 | Friends will be Friends

19 | Silver Bird

20 | Bad Moon Rising

21 | Fox on the Run

22 | Long Long Way From Home

23 | Hungry Eyes

24 | Peace of Mind

25 | I’ll get Even With You

26 | Hooked on a Feeling

27 | Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

28 | If You Want BIood, (You’ve Got It)

29 | With a Little Help From My Friends

30 | Bridge Over Troubled Water

31 | Strange Magic

32 | Come a Little Bit Closer

33 | More Than a Feeling

34 | You Belong to Me

35 | Chill of Desire

36 | Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

37 | Gimme, Gimme, Gimme

38 | Let the Good Times Roll

39 | Running With the Pack

40 | Hot Stuff

41 | Urban Adventure

42 | Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

43 | Sympathy for the Devil

44 | No One But You

45 | Hold The Line

46 | Comfortably Numb

47 | Let Me Take You Home Tonight

48 | Dust in the Wind

49 | High Hopes

50 | Love the One You're With ♡

51 | Some Guys Have All The Luck ♡

52 | Twentieth Century Fox

53 | Too Much Love Will KiII You

54 | Sail Away Sweet Sister

55 | Noone Together

56 | Who Wants To Live Forever

57 | Play the Game

58 | Staying Power

59 | Break on Through

60 | Stone in Love

61 | Mr. Blue Sky

62 |

63 |

64 |

65 |

66 |

67 |

68 |

69 |

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BONUS TRACKS:

Your Theories, The Note, The Costumes, Sirius and the Chimney, Sirius and Vix after the bad moon, Evans and Vixen, Remus and Vixen at the infirmary, Remus holding Sirius at DADA, Remus and Sirius’ height difference, the FOXSTAR picture, Art by @nineloseteeth, We're going French,

Leave a comment telling me if you want to join the tag list

A/N: Most Poly!Marauders fics are oneshots, where the relationship between characters is already established, and they're all happy and pleased with it. No issues, no drama, but I WANTED the drama. Couldn't find it, so I set myself up to write the story behind the stablished relationship. I wanted to know how they started dating each other, the jealousy, the will they won't they, because getting into a poly relationship can't be an easy task, and I wanted to explore that story. If you're interested: Welcome to Gilded Constellations!

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part fourteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Blue holds her arm out, stopping you from taking another step.

"Sh. I see one."

Up ahead, a squirrel stills on a tree, beady eyes unblinking. In a matter of seconds, Blue throws her knife and pins it to the bark through the stomach. 

"Nice," you comment. "You got it on the first try this time."

In your hand is the other squirrel she killed for you. Ghost started working on your bow yesterday. He didn't say anything to you about it, but you spotted him sitting on the porch chiseling away at a hunk of oak. Until he's finished, you've struck another deal: helping Blue skin the rabbits in exchange for her killing squirrels with you. She's better at killing them with a knife than you are. 

"This is good practice for me." She wriggles the knife out and hands you the kill. "Poor guy didn't see it coming."

"Probably better that way."

She slips the knife back to her ankle. "Do you need more? Or is two enough."

"Two is enough. I saw these flowers by the trench that I think are edible."

"You can eat flowers?" She makes a face. The two of you begin heading back toward the camp. You didn't go off too far with her. Ghost said she wasn't allowed to go past the pond without him. Truthfully, you were surprised he let her go with you at all. 

"Yeah. Pink Sorrel. They taste lemony, and I'll add the leaves, too. Like a salad."

"Yum," she says sarcastically. "Did Paul teach you that?"

You nod. "He knew a lot about plants."

"Are you sure he didn't like you?" 

"Blue," you almost groan. "You've asked me this twice now."

"Well, you seemed to have spent a lot of time with him, and he taught you a lot of things."

"You can spend time with someone and learn things from them without... liking them."

"I wouldn't know," she shrugs, waving her hand around. "There are no boys here for me to spend time with besides Ghost." 

"Paul didn't like me in that way," you reaffirm. "Besides, he's dead."

There is a lingering pause as a cloud rolls over the sun, turning everything dim before it passes. The weather these past few days has been fluctuating like true spring. Cold showers in the morning, intense sunlight by noon, and clouds that come and go. The cabbages Blue planted have sprouted fat, juicy leaves. You've mentally scolded yourself for not including seeds in your deal with Ghost. 

"So when are you and Ghost going to start training or whatever?" Blue speaks up, switching subjects.

"Training?" you repeat.

"He told me you wanted to learn some things." She glances at you. "Look, let me just warn you, he can be a real hard ass. One time, he made me climb up and down a tree twenty times without stopping. And another time, he made me throw knives over and over until I hit the exact same spot on the tree again."

Right. Somehow, that last request you made of him has slipped your mind. You did ask him to teach you how to better defend yourself against other people.

It's been over a week now, and the two of you still haven't talked much except for the necessities. Honestly, it's probably best that way. Maintaining a clinical relationship with him should keep the peace and maybe even earn more of his trust. You're growing confident that he doesn't see you as much of a threat anymore. Last night, you ran into him again after waking up from another dream, and all he did was walk past you, step outside for a cigarette, and then go back to his room. He didn't seem suspicious of you being up at all.

That said, the reminder of the 'training' he's supposed to give you makes your teeth snag onto your lip. 

When you don't respond, Blue adds, "What exactly do you want him to show you? I hate to say it, but I don't think he'll give you one of his guns."

"No," you shake your head. "I don't want that. It's not Greys that I'm as worried about. As long I've got distance, I can use my bow for them. It's more about... other people. They get close. Too close."

"Well, you can always bite their nose off," she gives a bump to your shoulder.

You cringe. "I'd rather not have to do that again."

She pauses, looking at her boots. "What did it taste like?"

"Fucking awful. Probably the grossest thing I've ever experienced."

She looks up. "If you were a Grey, you would've loved it."

"Well, I'm human still, and I much prefer these guys." You wag the dead squirrels in front of her face and she laughs. If you could replace all her tears with that sound, you would.

"You still haven't answered my question," Blue tilts her head. "When are you getting started? Because I have some training in mind for you, too."

You arch a brow but don't question it. "Um. I don't know. Ghost hasn't said anything to me about it, and he's busy working on my bow right now."

"Why don't you ask him, then?" She shoots you a knowing smirk. "Are you scared of him, Twix?"

"No," you say all too quickly. "No... I'm not. I just don't know how to talk to him. He's not exactly approachable."

"Just do what I do. I say whatever I want to him. Except when he's pissed, then—" she freezes for a moment and lays a hand on your shoulder. "—it's better to shut up and listen. Believe me."

You speak under your breath. "Noted."

It's another dream that night which pushes you to actually confront him. The loud voices sharpen into images— a bloodied knife at your throat, a toothy smile, carved body parts. You wake up and grab your neck, expecting to feel severed tissue. Instead, you feel damp skin. Something bubbles up your throat and fills your mouth. Squirrel and Pink Sorrel. The taste makes you shudder, but you swallow your dinner back down. The dark, quiet living room mocks you. 

The morning after that, you find him on the porch. It's not raining, but the air pricks the back of your neck with dew. You've already bathed and woven your hair into braids, which is growing longer by the day and bordering on an inconvenience.

Ghost tilts his head the second a wood plank creaks beneath your footsteps, tearing his gaze away from the assortment of carving knives in his lap. You've caught him in the moment before he's started to work on your bow again.

He is wearing that balaclava that makes him look more man than ghost, along with a black hoodie and faded, brown jacket. The whites of his eyes are visible, slowly sliding up to yours. You fully realize he isn't going to greet you with a hello, and standing there in an uncomfortable silence doesn't interest you, so you bite the bullet.

"I want to start that other thing I asked you for."

He seems to know what you're referring to. "Right now?"

Your nails dig into your palms, realizing that you should've waited for a time when he wasn't preoccupied. Though, he's hardly ever not doing something. 

Blue was right. Something about him has you subconciously on the defensive; it's something you want to get over if this living arrangement is going to be long-term, which you'd prefer it to be. It was about two months ago now that he nearly killed you, and since then, he has kept you alive ten times over. Maybe you should focus on that: on the hand that pulled you up, on the warm jacket over your shoulders, on the bow he is making.

"Whenever you have the chance. But— now, if we could."

Ghost lowers his eyebrows and seems to think it over. "Now is fine. Your bow will have to wait a bit, then."

"That's okay," you speak as you exhale. "I don't mind."

It's at that moment Blue pushes through the front door and you almost startle. "Can I come with you guys?"

Ghost folds his knives up and responds in a firm tone. "No. You have work to finish up."

"But my leg is hurting," she retorts lightly. "I'd rather sit and watch you guys."

"Your leg was just fine yesterday when you were hunting and climbing trees." 

"That was yesterday. Today, it hurts." She bites her lip and shrugs.

"How convinient." He gives her a dry look.

"So is that a yes?"

"It's a no."

With a groan, she goes back inside. 

Ghost escorts you out of the gate and towards a small clearing nestled within a circle of trees. As you follow behind him, you find your eyes straying to his broad back and for a moment, you wonder if maybe you've changed your mind— or maybe you want to tell him to wait until Blue can come join.

But you remind yourself that survival is a proactive game; you can't laze around and keep getting sick from the memories. You need to shut them away into that box you've made, and in the meantime, get stronger.

"Here is good," he says, stopping.

It's been awhile since you've done anything like this. There were plenty of times Paul 'trained' you. He used to make you shoot at the trees until your back muscles were practically immobile. As an ex forest ranger, he wasn't much of a fighter. His advice was always this: "Don't let anyone or anything get close enough to where you have to fight them."

Clearly, his advice can only go so far.

In the five years you were at your old camp, you managed to keeps things at a distance for the most part. A few Greys had snuck up on you, resulting in thrashing and wrestling around to avoid bites. But there were only one or two times that you had to engage in close combat with a human. The few other survivors you encountered were usually punished by Paul's rifle or your arrows. 

You shed your jacket and hang it on a branch, left in just Ghost's shirt and your jeans. "So, um, what should I start with? Running laps?"

"You want to learn how to defend yourself, not run a marathon."

"Right." You nod and rub at the gooseflesh that sprouts on your arm. You turn to face him. "I was joking."

Ghost ignores your comment with a pensive expression, staring you down across the short distance. You put on a blank face and meet his eyes expectantly. 

The silence stretches for a second longer than what would be deemed normal. Is this just how he is, then? Or is it only with you? You're about to say something to put an end to it when he suddenly crosses his arms over his chest.

"You were a nurse." It should come out like a question, but it's more of a statement. His voice nearly makes you jump. 

You can't help it; you look away. "Um. I... wasn't, actually."

Why is he bringing this up? Never once has he asked anything about you. In fact, you sometimes toy with the thought that he might have forgotten your real name by now.

"Figured," he says.

You frown, flashing him a confused look. "What? Why?"

"You're a bit too young to have been a nurse five years ago."

You think back to the moment he found you with an inward wince. "So you knew I wasn't telling the truth?"

"It didn't matter if you were or not."

That's right. I don't need a nurse, he said. 

"It wasn't a total lie," you clarify, dropping your arms at your sides. "I was in nursing school."

He rubs his chin. "You should understand the body, then— its weak points."

Your fingers flex before they gesture to your face. "The nose and eyes are obvious ones. But... but if someone grabs me from behind like," you forcefully inhale, "Like you did, then I won't be able to reach them."

He gives a short nod, then looms closer. You will your boots to remain planted in the damp soil despite the overwhelming proximity and intimidating mass of him. You blink up as he points a gloved finger to the hinge of his jaw. "There's this, too. Pretty easy to dislocate." His fingers move to side of his corded neck. "And here. The throat is weak and vital."

"I still wouldn't be able to reach those," you point out.

"You have more than just your arms, Twix."

"So my head, then?"

"That's one way." He moves a step back and you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Why don't you show me what you'd do— give it a try."

The suggestion should be expected given what you're asking of him— of course he would have to touch you at somepoint. Yet, it makes you stiffen. He motions his hand for you to turn around and with great hesitance, you comply, until you hear the crunch of twigs beneath his boots as he closes in behind you. You stare straight ahead at a tree and focus on breathing. 

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

His flat tone makes your eyes twitch in irritation and you are glad he can't see them. "Yeah. I know."

Just as he did all that time ago, his burly arms wrap around you, though not as firm and threatening. Your feet don't hang and you're not skin and bones this time, but once again, you are imprisoned against a hard chest. Your lungs pick up their pace and an artery in your neck jolts. 

"Just show me what you'd do," he says slowly, warm breath fanning across the top of your hair. "Don't worry about hurting me."

You wriggle against him, but even without issuing all his strength, it's useless. You stomp on his foot, figuring that toes are pretty vulnerable, but his thick boot hurts your sole more than you could possibly have hurt him. Your eyes begin to sting. You suddenly find yourself panting in frustration. Before you can even think about trying to use your head, full-blown panic unfurls in your chest. 

"Let go," you say under your breath. He must not hear you. Your voice turns to a snarled hiss. "Fucking let go of me."

His hold immediately loosens and you stagger forward, creating much-needed distance. Heavy breaths scratch up your throat. You wipe the back of your hand over your forehead and close your eyes for a moment, seeing blood and burnt skin against the backs of your lids. When you reopen them, Ghost is staring at you. The humiliation sets in as a red flush on your cheeks.

"Sorry," you shake your head and stare up at the clouded sky. "Just— maybe we should go back." Your arms hug around your stomach to keep its contents contained. "We can start this another day."

Throwing up in front of him again is low on the list of things you'd enjoy doing. He's already seen you near-death— no need to add a mental breakdown to your repertoire. Your lips press tightly together as you head to the tree for your jacket, but his gruff voice pauses your fingers against the embroidered flag on its sleeve.

"This isn't going to work if you don't tell me what is bothering you."

Your hand drops. "What?"

"What happened when you went to get the ammo, Twix?" he presses.

"I..." 

To tell him would be to pry open that box you've made and let him peek inside. He has never even asked a single question about you until today, so you press onto the lid, tight, and turn to face him with pleading eyes. "I don't want to talk about it with you, Ghost. Don't make me."

In response, he lifts up his hands in resignation. "Alright." He lowers them. "Why don't you at least tell me how you handled it?"

"Why?"

He taps a finger to his masked temple. "So I can understand how you think. How you keep surviving all this shit."

The wave of nausea settles as you form your response. "I... I burned him. He cleaned the bite on my arm with some alcohol. I distracted him a little and then smashed the bottle on his head. I had my lighter, so I used it."

Slowly, he nods, as if your words are not all that surprising to him. "And how about at the base when I left you?"

"There was that Grey," you remind him. "I bit the guy's nose and pushed him into it. If it hadn't been there, Blue and I would be dead. You see? I survived because I was lucky. I hardly know what I'm doing."

Ghost argues. "You survived because you saw opportunities and took them. You were smart about it."

"And what about when there are no opportunities? I will just panic like I did now." The tightness in your chest turns into something that has you roughly grabbing the jacket and sheathing your bare arms. "Let's just go back now.”

This time, he doesn't protest. The silence that clouds the short walk back is expected on his part, and purposeful on yours. 

[heartfullofleeches]

Table 9

Yan Customer + Fast Food Worker Reader + Yan Entities (Mascot, Bathroom Succubus) [18+ mdni]

Summary: Tired of a frequent customer's daily attempts to ask you out, you take your spite to the next level

Warnings/Tags: Food/Cum Play, masturbation, handjobs, rimming, Reader's gender unspecified but they have a peen(amab), aphrodisiacs, slight crack

"Pick up for table seven!"

Morning rush - the calm within the neverending storm. Not even a full twelve hours since you've been away from your job, and here you were manning the front as usual. You weren't scheduled to come in until noon, but somewhere around dawn your coworker made the mistake of opening the drive-through window. Pickfork or not, an angry customer banging on the glass was a safer choice that whatever resided in there. While hectic and overwhelming at times, you welcomed the morning hustle with open arms and as big a smile your weary spirit could muster. The distraction kept your mind off what was to come. The dreaded hour and number that itched at the back of your mind with each passing customer. You don't know if you have the strength today.

"Next!"

"Good afternoon... Y/n~"

Oh no. No. Your head snaps towards the clock. 12:00pm. You duck beneath the counter to check the number of table markers left. There's only one remaining - the identifying curve of the digit in the shadows a mocking grin. Spinning to your feet as if nothing happened, you will the smile of someone held at gun point at the familiar face. A well dressed individual stood before you; neat suit, manicured nails. If you had to guess, they were about your age if not a couple years older, but the twinkle in their eye and lack of wrinkles gave them that youthful patience this job was draining you of. All in all, they appeared to be just another business person grabbing a quick meal on their way to work - but you knew better.

"Afternoon! What can I get you today?"

"Oh, I'm sure we know each other well enough by now to know what I want. I'll have the usual." They point up at the menu, but their sight lingers upon you - the only feast they sought after.

A chill worse than a night in the meat locker courses down your spine as their tongue draws over their pearly whites and smooth lips. Table 9 - whereas the number marker of most booths changed with a new order, there was only one that retained its title and customer. A tiny, two seater in the right corner of the establishment - the perfect view point for the various crimes you committed on their assorted beverages.

The first indication there was something truly wrong with this person came when they had reported finding one of your hairs in their food. When you offered to replace it, they merely thanked you for your hard work and placed the stray lock in the locket they currently wore around their neck. You later found your hair to be uneven on one end when you took a shower. The limits of their depravity had no end. You once spat in their cup in viewing range out of retaliation for their insistency on joining them on a nice walk to their van for a nice reward for all your efforts. You came to your senses as soon as the spit flew, but they beckoned you and their treat over before you could throw it out - downing half of it right in front of you. You can't help but repeat the action everytime they enter despite the joy and hunger in their eyes when you pass it off.

"Right - one small vanilla ice cream in a sundae container. Will that be all?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could make it extra special for me. You see, today is my birthday and while I enjoy everything your fire establishment has to offer - I fear I am craving something... different. I do pray I'm not being greedy by saying this, but I simply can't get enough of you."

Something different? If they're referring to you spitting in their cup - what else could they want?

"They want you to jizz in their ice cream."

The plume of heavy perfume and medical herbs assaults your nostrils in the same time that her voice has on the rest of your senses. Your coworker nibbles on the straw of her beverage, offering you a wave and a wink as your eyes shift between her and the customer. They wouldn't want that.

"Ignore her - I'm sure whatever you need won't break anymore health code violations than we already have." You slowly eye the customer up and down. "I'm seventy percent sure whatever you need won't break anymore health code violations than we already have."

Gentle blush dusts their hollow cheek. They hide the curl of their lips with their fist as they glance elsewhere. "W-well.... I wouldn't be opposed to it.

They definitely want that.

Your coworker gently nudges your arm. "Eh, I say you should do it. It's their birthday after all and your break's still an hour away. I'll handle business up here until you get back."

You raise an eyebrow. "Normally you and the rest of them are quick to get rid of anyone who so much as breathes at me after I take their order." Your shoulders slump as the realization hits you. "You predicted this somehow and want to watch me on the security cameras during your next break."

"I totally did - and do. Plus, I'm fairly certain that guy isn't human either and after seeing what those hands in the ball pit can do, I really don't want to get my ass kicked unless you're in real trouble."

"Figures.... Alright, fine - I'll do it." Taking off your apron and setting it on the counter, you smack the customer's hands away from it as you finish their order. You grab the dreaded number from beneath the desk and hand it to them. They wait patiently for your command - you roll your eyes. "Don't just stand there - you know where to go."

"Hm, true - I just wanted to hear your voice longer. To picture the blessed sounds you'll make for me back there."

"Don't push it."

Your coworker thrusts her cup into your hands. "Drink some. It'll help you finish quicker."

You mindlessly wrap your lips around the bitten draw. "How is watered down diet cola supposed to help me?"

"Infused with my spit."

Oh...right. It's fairly easy to forget your coworker is a succubus when she wears contacts to hide the blacks of her eyes and your uniform hat already comes with horns. Your head swims: vision spotty as your breathing grows ragged. Startled and aroused by the soft flesh pressed against your arm, your eyes dart to her as she nestles your arm in her chest - lacey black bra poking from her unbuttoned shirt.

You shutter as she blows against your neck. "If....we ever get that priest out of the ball pit, I'm giving him your address first."

"And I love you too - now get going."

You stumble forward as she pushes you on - shaking legs and a heavy body tugging you through the kitchen; the waypoint task of grabbing a sundae cup near impossible with the weightlessness of your limbs. You tumble your way into the empty break room, dragging your work pants down to mid thigh and your shirt over stomach as you relieve the building strain in your underwear. You flinch as the drooling tip slaps against your navel; hand firm around the base. You fist your cock to full mass as the cup flies across the table; your back hunched as you lurch across the wooden surface. Swallowing the end of your shirt to stifle your panting breaths, the cold, ventilated air nibs at your bare torso and thighs.

The stimulant in your coworker's saliva taking full effect - your mind floods with crude imagery as your cock throbs painfully in your hand. Pressing the plush of your palm to your girth, your thoughts draw back to your dear coworker and her innocent ploy of placing your arm against her breast; how they spilled out of her top daily and the way she battered her eyes when she caught you staring. Rutting your cock between her tits and waiting tongue would be too much for you right about now. You thought about that annoying customer taking her place on their knees before you; eyes cloudy with love-struck awe and desire as you stroked yourself to completion and came down their eager throat.

"S...shit...hah..." You groan loudly, the shift of the table as your hips snap against your wrist perfectly masking the creak of break room door as it glides open. The figure cranes its large body and neck to peer in at you as you attempt to fix the table while still fisting your dick in one hand. You linger in your agonizing high, unaware of its presence - until it begins to whistle.

The mascot.

You turn back in time to see that hulking figure maneuver its curving horns through the doorframe as it enters the room. Its chest extends with a stale breath; unblinking eyes training on your smaller stature and leaking member. The lack of bloodstains on its apron and leather gloves tells you its been unsuccessful with its daily hunts, but something warns it wasn't after human flesh in its preferred cut.

Lambchop the goat demon. Obviously not your choice in naming, but you settled on just calling it what it was. The humanoid devil had been responsible for majority of the disappearances around the restaurant and number four on your headache list. Whether as it met your fellow coworkers with butcher knives and their fallen companions in nugget containers, it greeted you with bouquets of flowers and signals to braid your hair as you worked. It wasn't the most annoying entity, but you'd prefer to have the extra hands it keeps chopping off. You'd never seen under its mask, but considering everything else that went on here you didn't expect to see much.

The Mascot stalks towards you, lowering its clever to the floor and its head in curiousity. You chew your lower lip as its hands come up to your sweaty, quivering thighs. The skin beneath your teeth breaks as it pads a finger to your balls - eyes worked back up at you.

"Make it quick."

You don't need to tell it twice. Gripping your shoulders, the mascot spins you on your heels and takes your cock into its leathery hand, pointed finger tips curling against your abdomen. It tucks its claws into its palm as it rubs your length; the harsh, yet tender pressure to your dick making your head spin as it did the first hit of the aphrodisiac. You hear the tear of fabric and soon find the mascot's slimy tongue coursing the vein lines in your neck - teeth locking around the sensitive flesh of your collar. You whimper at the spill of your blood over its fangs and the shameful ecstasy as it suckles the area and teases your nipple between its fingers. The mascot looks down to see the bounce of your ass against its thigh as you fuck its fist with another bout of sinful cries - suddenly pushing you over as your stomach twists in knots.

"the hell are you.....ngh!"

You grit your teeth as the mascot tanks your pants and shorts down to your ankles. Its long, heavy tongue darts out and licks the precum glazed head, dragging up the underside of your twitching cock to your balls and finally pressing against your asshole. You claw at the table for mercy as the thick appendage works its grithy slime into your tight hole; large hand gripping your cheek and spreading them apart as it wriggles against your walls. Its saliva drips down over your balls as it explodes; staining your cock black as it smears the drool into your shaft as it continues to milk you off your building worth. You clench around the muscle, legs close to giving out before its strong arms and shoulders catch - tongue fucking back atop the creaking table. You reach back to grab its horns with your noodly limbs, all remaining strength lost as you cry out.

"Fuck!... slow...slow down. I can't-"

"Y/n! You almost done in there!?"

You blink away tears as you call out. "Y-yea! I'm...ah- coming... I'll be there soon!"

The mascot slams its tongue into your ass; mixture of its length and thickness reaching deeper than you could with your fingers and hitting all the right spots that made retrieving the cup a feat. You nearly forgot about it, and the whole reason you came in here with your mind void of all thoughts beyond your impending climax. You tug the mascot's horn, begging for pause so you can fit the plastic container beneath you. It completely ignores you and swats your hand away, leaving you to struggle getting it under the table as you rock back on its tongue and snout. Your tip hits the bottom of the cup as your vision whites; full body trembling as you shoot ropes of your milky cum into the container. The mascot drills you vigorously through your earthshaking orgasm, ripping another out of you before you're able to call it off through whines. It stands up and takes the cup lose in your sweaty hands, aiming your dick at its rim as the dribbles of your spend run down its interior. The mascot pulls you up against its clothed chest, patting your head and praising you with soft hums as it picks your pants up off the floor and loops the buckle around your waist all with one hand. It stares, unblinking at you glance back - awaiting its reward. You kiss its cheek as you lower your shirt.

"Thanks."

The mascot nuzzles your cheek with its nose, watching and licking its stained hand as it leaves the way it came. It looks back at the cup - almost remorseful in its stare. Looking down at the cup, you see it filled roughly halfway with your spunk - likely increase by the effects of the naturally produced drug. You cringe as you pick it up, stumbling your way back out the break room and to the ice cream machine. You glare down the dreaded box and the spirit inside as you grab its handle.

"Do not.... fuck with me today."

The machine quietly dispenses the ice cream, the creamy white mostly masking the translucent fluid at the bottom. The machine let's you go about your day with no further issue - ghost hover off, disappointed. "A kiss would've been nice."

You wobble your way to the front; clothes wrinkled and hanging off your shoulders, body sweaty and hair clinging to your face. You fix your hat as you straighten yourself against the counter, slamming the container down - clutching your chest as you breath. "Order for Table... 9..."

"Ah!" The customer snatches the ice cream up, lips aimed directly for the freezing rizz on the edge of the cup. They sight in delight, stiff posture relaxed in favor of their newfound taste of paradise. "Heavenly~ I do pray this will be on the minute in the future."

The customer takes their spoon and another bite as they hum happily to themselves, skipping towards their table. You call up the next customer who points at them.

"Can I get whatever they had?"

".....might want to rethink that decision."

[peachesofteal]

Home

Part of the Sassy series.

Simon Riley/female reader 6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. No smut but this fic contains mature themes. PTSD. Emotional hurt/comfort. Relationship issues. Feelings of sadness, anxiety, fear. Mention of attempted suicide. Alcohol use. Tenderness. Simon is soft for you. Simon is a good dad. The 141 is a found family trope. Angst with a happy ending. The gang's all here. Lots of crying. Home.

>You need to come down to the pub.  >What? >Simon’s in bad shape.  >It’s hardly noon?  >Just get down here, Sassy.

The text from Price has you walking briskly down the street within a minute, jittery with nerves and heart racing in your chest. The pub is not a long walk, the shortest route is east two blocks, south two blocks, and a quick left turn into the pedestrian alley that runs between two large brick buildings, to where the red painted door is nestled in off the street.

It’s not a long enough walk at all, because it hardly gives you enough time to collect your thoughts. Your feet fly over pock marked asphalt, anxiety shifting around in your mind, finding the softest pieces of your brain to sink its teeth into and derail you. He’s okay, he’s just drunk. He’s okay, he’s just drunk. He’s not hurt. He’s fine. 

You’re practically vibrating with nerves. Your body feels uncontained, unbound by laws and physics, like you could fall apart completely at any moment. Rip apart at the seams and disappear into nothing, never to be seen or heard from again.

It was a struggle, in the next moment, to not follow that previous thought up with ‘maybe it’d be better.’ 

You weren’t allowed to say those things out loud anymore. Or, so says your therapist. You weren’t supposed to think your family would be better off without you, this shell of a human that is neither a mother or a wife now, just a skeleton, just a nervous system, just a heart and a brain.

You grit your teeth.

You are still you. You are strong. You are a mother. You are a wife. You are loved. You are worthy of being loved. 

You fight the eyeroll and repeat it on top of your other mantra for good measure.

Theo is okay. Simon is okay. You’re home. There is no danger. There is nothing to fear.

When you get to the pub’s front door, you stop for a second and stare at it.

Your hands shake on the handle.

There is no danger. There is nothing to fear. You are still you. You are worthy of being loved. 

“What’re you doing ‘ere?” Simon slurs, and you chew on the inside of your cheek while Price stands opposite you, adjacent to the drunk man’s shoulder.

“Sassy’s going to take ya home.” Price explains gently, and Simon shakes his head furiously, eyes slamming shut like he’s suddenly been blinded by the sun.

“No.” He vows. You fight to keep your voice even when you try to reassure him.

“Si. Hey, it’s okay, you’re just-“

“No, Sass.” His fingers curl around the small glass that’s filled to the brim with bourbon, before he throws it back and wipes his lips on his sleeve. “Price’ll take me home. Go on.” The directive cuts, but you swallow the hurt down. You put him here. You did this. 

“I can’t, mate. Got to meet the wife down the street for an appointment.”

"I can't go with 'er." He snaps, and you try not to choke the saliva that's building in the back of your throat with your nausea. Price looks at you over Simon’s slumped posture, mouthing something that looks like: ‘it’s okay, call the cab’, and you manage it in record time, the tracker on the screen showing a black vehicle pulling down the street a minute later. Your hands are still fucking shaking, and you can’t stop them, can’t do anything with them except hold them together in hopes they’ll keep you from falling apart.

“Okay Si, come on.” You’ve managed to get him out of the car, and into the house, but he’s fading fast. The irritation from earlier settling into drunk sleepiness, draining some of that tension that he’s always carrying from his body. You shift him so that he’s leaning on you, his massive weight nearly bowling the two of you over as you encourage him to take the step up. “Help me out.”

“Wy’re you here?” He slurs and you grimace, pressing your thigh into the back of his knee so it bends forward and then up to the next step.

“This is ou- my house.” Our house. It wouldn’t have been a lie, wouldn’t have been anything but the truth, if you had said it. Instead, you bit your tongue just in time. “Can’t take you to yours because you’ve drank the city dry of Kentucky bourbon, and I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Always ‘lone now.” He mumbles and you feel the burn of tears in your nose, under your lashes. Don’t fucking cry. “Ya shouldn’t be here.” He protests as you walk next to him, step by step, your arm wrapped as much as it can be around his waist.

“It’s okay, come on.” You heave him up the last stair to the landing, where you keep your hands on his hips and steer him towards the bedroom.

For a split second, you consider trying to push him towards the guest room but disregard the notion as soon as it comes. He won’t be comfortable in there. The bed’s too small. Don't want him to wake up confused either. He grunts when you herd him towards the master. Master bathroom is better. That way he won’t wake Theo if he gets up in the middle of the night to puke. 

You manage to nudge him into the bed, heaving his legs onto the mattress and stripping his giant boots off, throwing them haphazardly in the corner while you glance at the bedside clock. Almost time for pick up. 

“Our room.” He blinks, arm stretching across towards the middle, towards the side you always sleep on, the side you still sleep on.

“Yeah. Thought you’d be more relaxed in here.” You explain, tugging and pulling at the sheets. He’s so heavy, like dead weight against the fabric, but you don’t want him to be uncomfortable, and the sheets are knotted together under his back. His head lolls, body full of slack, blissfully unaware, floating high on a river of Kentucky bourbon and he looks like he’s about a minute from falling asleep. A tidal wave of longing sweeps through you, everything yearning to curl up into his side, bury your face in his neck and listen to the sound of his breathing.

You can’t. You ruined it. You ruined everything. Again. 

“My sweet girl.” His thumb sweeps across your cheekbone and you can’t help but lean into it, close your eyes and take a lungful of air. “Don’ cry.” He croaks and you manage a smile, a small one, mostly for his benefit.

“I’m okay.” You try to reassure him, his brow crinkling in the center like it does when he knows you’re lying and he’s about to call you out on it. You wipe your face with the back of your hand and glance at the clock again. Shit. “Si, I have to go get Theo, I want you to try to get some rest.” He stays quiet for a while, eyes drooping before he agrees half-heartedly.

“Right, I’ll be ‘ere then.” He shifts, rolling partially on his side, and yanks your pillow into his arms, folding it down into his body until his chin is resting on it. You don’t move from his side until his eyes start to slip closed, the dizzying rhythm of drunken sleep pulling him under, and when you finally stand so you can go get Theo, you can’t help but lean over his shoulder and press a feather light kiss to his temple. I love you; you think. I’m sorry I fucked it all up. 

Theo is, as always, pleased to see you on the sidewalk after the bell rings, his voice vibrating with excitement as he goes through his day, telling you about the things his friends did and the stuff his teacher said.

When you get about two blocks away from the house, you stop and he looks up at you in confusion, face creased in the center of his brows, the spitting image of his dad. You sigh, and squat down so you’re just about eye level. “Theo, I need your help with something when we get home.”

“Kay mum?”

“We need to be really quiet when we get home, okay? Dad is-“

“Daddy’s home?” He squeaks with glee, eyes wide and excited. Shit. Fuck. Shit. 

“Daddy’s home but he’s sick… so he’s asleep. To help him get better we need to be quiet so he can sleep, right?” He nods, and you know he understands. “Okay. Maybe we can watch a movie in the living room with our snack instead of playing in your room, yeah?” He agrees wholeheartedly, and you melt a little. He’s so kind, so patient. Such a sweet boy, and you don’t think it has anything to do with you at this point. You consider yourself lucky he’s so resilient, because you’ve already gone and screwed up half of formative years.

When he gets to the front door, he puts his finger in front of his lips and makes a ‘shhh’ sound, the little gesture showing you that he remembers what the two of you discussed and you melt even more.

He’s definitely getting ice cream tonight.

The morning comes too soon. You spent most of the night awake after managing to get Theo in a bath without causing a huge ruckus and putting him to bed, agonizing on having to face Simon, who may or may not even try to slip away undetected. Not to mention, the three of you have dinner at the Price’s tonight, since Johnny is in town, and it will be the first time you’ve seen Kyle in months. You’re already anxious about that, on top of everything. Your nerves feel rubbed raw.

Your brain didn’t let you sleep, not fully, instead choosing to free fall through memories like you were watching a movie, bits and pieces of your entire life playing out in your mind like you were sitting in a dark theatre with a bucket of popcorn.

The first time you met Simon, the confusion over the skull that seemed so familiar, your brain automatically linking it to Mace’s and dousing you in nervous fear. 

The first time he refused to show you his face. The first time you refused to give him your name. 

The moment you saw him in the bathroom, felt the magnetic pull like magic. The time you caught him watching you, standing outside of the safe house, face tilted up towards the rain. 

When he showed up at your house with a battered ultrasound photo and your name on his lips.

When you held his baby, your son, in your arms for the first time while he cried and kissed you over, and over. 

The day you said yes to marrying him, when he got down on one knee in the nursery, hands shaking with nerves. 

Sleep is brief. You’re half-awake on the couch, listening for any sound from either of them, staring at the floor while the rising sun casts shadow across the hard wood.

You hear the creak of heavy feet on the stairs, the hesitancy of someone standing at the top, unsure if they should come down.

What are you going to say when he does? What could you possibly say that would make any of this better?

Hey, I’m sorry I had a panic attack and abandoned you after we touched each other for the first time in almost a year. 

Hey, I’m sorry I freaked out and left which caused you to spiral into a bottle. 

Hey, I’m sorry I’m still a fucking nightmare that doesn’t actually deserve you. 

“Morning.” He calls, and you turn to see him at the bottom of the steps, walking towards the chair next to the couch, the giant one that’s got an imprint of his body in it.

“Hey, morning.”

“You get any sleep?”

“A little.” The living room goes deathly silent, and you sit up, crossing your legs in front of you to face him. Say something. Say anything. 

“Look, I-“ you start.

“Sass-“ and so does he. The two of you stop as soon as you realize you’re talking over one another.

“Sorry, you go ahead.” You follow up lamely, lip tucked between your teeth. He sighs, long and low.

“I’m sorry, you had to… deal with that. With me. Like that.”

“It’s okay. Not the first time I’ve seen you in rough shape.” You try to tease him, try to lighten the giant storm cloud that is bearing down on the two of you, but it doesn’t work. He grimaces instead. Smooth. You curse yourself. “I uh. Didn’t mind. It felt kind of… nice. To do something for you.” He raises an eyebrow, and you shrug. “You’re always taking care of me, you know?”

“You’re my priority-“ a bedroom door creaks upstairs, followed by the sound of little thundering footsteps, and you feel a pang of regret. Of all times to wake up early, baby. You can't fault him too much, he's so excited to see his dad. “you, and this guy.” He smiles across the room to where your baby stands with his blanket tucked in his hands, still in his pjs with a sleepy smile. “C’mere, bug.” Simon pats his thigh and Theo runs, scrambling up onto the chair and nestling into his dad, eyes still wearing their crust of sleep, hair all a mess.

“Breakfast?” you ask and Theo nods into Simon’s chest.

“Pa’cakes?” he asks hopefully, and you laugh.

“Sure, bug.” Simon looks at you over his head. “Will you stay?” you ask, trying not to let any emotion slip into your voice. It’s his choice. Don’t pressure him. He needs to be comfortable. 

“Of course.”

He stays all day. You don’t intend for it to happen, but it does, and you don’t complain. The two of you dance around the other night gracefully, but it doesn’t feel awkward or awful. It feels… okay. Normal. Without the elephant in the room, you could almost close your eyes and imagine this as before, and your willingness to relax and enjoy their company, together, without getting lost in your own head, is something you’ve been working diligently on thanks to Dr. C.

It feels good. It feels good, when you settle Theo in his room to watch a movie while you figure out his dinner before dinner, just in case he decides to be picky later. It still even feels good when Simon asks you if you want a glass of wine before you start getting ready for said dinner, because he can tell you’re nervous, and you actually say yes without feeling guilty. It all feels great, until it doesn’t, and your little bubble pops.

“Do ya want to talk about the other night?” Fuck. 

“Sure…” you taper off and he sits back in the chair, watching you with a scrutinous gaze, the one you’ve seen dozens of times, but not usually in your home.

“It’s important… that we’re honest with each other,” he says, and a knot twists in your stomach. He rubs the back of his neck anxiously, before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I need you to… acknowledge. What happened. I need to talk about it with you.”

“Okay.” You rush out. “I’m sorry… the other night, I- I made a mistake.” It’s the wrong thing to say. The words themselves are an error, and his face shutters, the beginning process of him shutting down taking over his body, his mind. No no no. 

“A mistake.” He repeats and you shake your head vigorously.

“No, no. Not like that I didn’t mean… please. I don’t… I don’t know how to feel or say things the right way anymore and my head has been so messed up, but I swear I… I want to try. I want… this marriage. I want us.” You’re crying earnestly now, tears dripping down your face, nails clenched into your palms so hard it burns. “And I… I wanted to take it slow.” He nods thoughtfully but stays silent. “I lost my head, the other night and rushed into things without really thinking.” Why isn’t he saying anything? “You were not a mistake Simon, I swear. You’ve never been a mistake to me.” You gasp the last sentence, throat raw with your tears and your eyes clench shut, hands going slack. Your chest is tight, it’s so tight and the air feels thin, and… you’ve completely ruined this, again, it’s all you ever do now, is ruin things. You ruined your family, ruined your son’s life, ruined Simon’s life, ruined everything. 

“Hey, hey.” You hadn't noticed, but his hand now curls around yours, pressure steady against where your pulse hammers under your skin. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “But we need to talk, Sass. Actually talk. Talk about where you are, how you’re feeling. Talk about a way to move forward.”

“Okay.”

“And I need to be honest with you about something. What happened the other night… it can’t happen again. I-“ He looks down to his feet. “I had a panic attack, after you left. I thought I was dying, I can’t… I can’t do that again. I have to be able to be present.” He doesn’t let go of your hand, but his grip slackens a little, and you feel your heart ripping into two pieces. Oh, Si. What have you done? “If I can’t be present, then I can’t take care of you, or Theo, or make sure nothing happens to the two of ya and I have to be able to-“ He abruptly stops, choking on the last sentence, and you watch as he straightens himself, twisting his back and rolling his neck. You stand, reaching for him, a tentative, seeking hand tracing along his forearm.

Asking for permission.

Asking for forgiveness.

Asking for everything.

He gives it to you. You fall into his arms easily, curling yourself into his lap, and he buries his face in your hair, shuddering breaths the only sound in the room, the only way you’d be able to tell he’s trying to compose himself. He dwarfs you, his embrace swallowing you up easily and you close your eyes, holding him as tightly as possible. You did this. You’ve let him down. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper and he shakes his head. “I am, I… I am, Si. I'm so sorry.”

“I know.” He answers, a hand smoothing over your hair and then down your back. “I know you are, sweet girl.”

You check the door lock four times, while Theo jumps from crack to crack in the sidewalk and Simon watches him carefully. The sun is starting to set, casting a orange pink glow over the street, lamps just starting to flicker on across the way, the sound of people out and about in the nice weather bouncing off the brick.

“Ready?” he asks, reaching for the bag on your arm. You nod, but reach out to grab his wrist when he turns to head down the block.

“I uh. I’m-“ you think you might be sick, and faint at the same time. You feel too warm in clothes, cold in your skin. You feel unsettled. Volatile. Why is this so hard? 

“What is it?” He’s gentle, voice soft and coaxing, and you try to smile and reassure him, but it comes out wrong, lopsided and nervous. You can do this. Just ask him. Today was mostly great. He’s not going to reject you. 

“I… was going to ask if you… if you wanted to come home with us tonight? After dinner.” His eyebrows raise, and something dark flashes across his face, something guarded.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Not for… that. Not for sex.” Jesus Christ. “I um… I thought maybe we co-could sleep together.” Oh my god. You’re blowing it. You feel like you might vomit all over his shoes. “Just sleep. In our bed. Together.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah… yes. I want to if you want to.” He’s silent for a long time, practically eternity, before he steps forward, and presses the lightest kiss to the top of your head.

“Okay, Sass. I want to.”

“Bloody hell. Feels like I haven’t seen ya in years.” Kyle pulls you into a hug and you laugh, head tipped back, pure joy on your face. You really did miss him.

“You look fit, Gaz.” You quip, and he preens just a bit. Simon scowls and raises an eyebrow from behind him. Price shakes his head like he’s already exasperated with the lot of you.

“Alright, alright. Stop hoggin’ the lass.” Soap shouts, elbowing him out of the way, and when he pulls you in for a hug, you’re not surprised there are tears smarting behind your eyes. Get it together. 

“Hey, Johnny.” You hold him back, arms wrapped around his waist, and he gives you a squeeze before pulling away.

“Hey Sassafras. You well?” He glances at Simon, and then back to you. It has not escaped anyone that the three of you arrived here together. You nod, and he smiles. “Where’s my nephew?” He half yells, because Theo is half hiding behind Simon’s legs, a little overwhelmed by the noise.

“He’s here.” You rub his head affectionately, and he peeks out, eyes landing on Johnny right away and glee lighting up his face.

“’cle Johnny!” he shrieks, and then flings himself at the poor man, barreling into him with the strength of a kid half his age.

“Oof.” Johnny gives you a bewildered look and you shrug.

“Why are you surprised? You know his dad.” Gaz barks a laugh, and Price’s wife rolls her eyes, before giving you a hug herself and dragging you into the kitchen. Gaz has got Theo up on his shoulders now, and you see Price handing Simon a beer out of the corner of your eye before you slip away, leaving them to their conversations.

“You look like you’ve been crying.” She motions to your under-eyes, and you tsk. You really did try to cover it up, but the puffiness is hard to hide.

“It’s been… a day.”

“A bad day?” She asks, and you consider it. Bad? No. Good? Also, not entirely. How would you describe it? 

“Not a bad day just… hard.” She reaches across the counter, squeezing your hand in a gesture of affection.

“If you need to chat…”

“Lunch this week?” you supply hopefully, and she readily agrees. It’s nice, having a friend. Having someone who gets it. Even though she’s a civilian, sweet as honey and soft as cotton, she’s still got an edge. She’s never shown fear, or disgust at the group of you. She married John, after all. And he loves her more than life itself. “So. What did you spend all day slaving away at in here?” you change the subject, and she giggles while popping a cork from a wine bottle.

“Fuck no.” She protests as she pours out two glasses. “I ordered catering. I’m not cooking for all you. You’re too picky.” She hands you a glass, and you chime your rim against hers.

“That’s fair.”

“How’s work, Sassy?” Kyle asks, bowl of salad extended towards Simon who turns his nose up at it.

“It’s good. Kind of dull.”

“What is it ye’re even doin’ now?” Johnny asks. He’s sitting next to Theo, who’s sitting next to Gaz, nestled between his two uncles like it’s a holiday, face beaming with happiness. They’re taking turns picking things off his plate too, since he’s already thrown a fit about eating vegetables tonight.

“I’m on a project. I’m just analyzing and compiling data for the DoD.” You try to keep it short, but Johnny raises an eyebrow.

“What kind of data?” You sigh.

“I’m tracking and analyzing the historical usage of Semtex.” You deadpan and his face lights up.

“Original compound?”

“Yes, Johnny.” You answer drily. Simon chuckles.

“You tryin’ to figure out how much is left floatin’ around out there eh?” You sigh again, louder for dramatic affect, and Price’s wife takes the cue.

“Okay, let’s talk about something other than bombs, hmm?” Gaz grumbles a protest, but she looks at Theo. “How’s school going Theo?”

“Oh yeah, sure use the kid!” Johnny playfully rolls his eyes, and you swing your toe into his shin. “OW!” He yells. You snicker. Price clears his throat. Whoops. 

“’Cools fun!” Theo supplies and Simon smiles softly at him from across the table. You watch him, the crease in the corner of his eyes, the gentle slope of his lips, the warmth and love that he exudes when he looks at his son. It makes you soft, so fucking soft and weepy and… in love. You feel the burn of a tear and rub your face subconsciously before looking down to your lap. Fuck. 

A heavy hand reaches for where yours sits, white knuckling the arm of your chair. A heavy hand wearing a gold wedding band, and you lean into it, hard, pulling his grip onto your lap, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles until you get your emotions under control.

“We’re gon’ miss you next week, Ghost.” Kyle says, cutting a piece of meat into a smaller portion and offering it to Theo who looks at it suspiciously. Simon coughs like he’s swallowed a fly.

“What?” you turn, and he grimaces. Price rubs his hand over his face, and Gaz looks between you and Simon like he’s confused.

“I’m taking some time off.”

“Well earned.” Kyle adds. “I’m sure Ale n’ Rudy ‘ll miss ya though.”

“You’re going to Las Almas?” Your head swings back and forth between the two of them.

“Wots lallamas?” Theo asks with a mouthful of food.

“Chew your food, baby.” You admonish. When no one else speaks, you raise your eyebrows and shake your head. “You’re going to Las Almas?” you repeat it, and Johnny shifts uncomfortably before answering.

“It’s just to help Los Vaqueros out.”

“With what?” you press, and now Simon is shifting nervously. “Soap.” You hiss and he holds his hands up.

“Valeria broke out-“ he starts.

“Someone broke Valeria out-“ Price tries to explain at the same time.

“Valeria’s on the lam and-“ Gaz uses air quotes around the word lam, and they all come to a stop when you laugh out loud.

“Oh my god.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You’ll be out of your depth. She’s too smart for you all, and you know it.” The table goes dead silent.

“Well, if you’re lookin’ for something to do lass…” Johnny trails off suggestively.

“That’ll do.” Simon barks, and Theo’s eyes go wide. Gaz looks down at his plate. Price frowns. Simon takes a deep breath, before cutting a glance to you, and you give him a reassuring squeeze. It’s okay. You try to communicate with the gesture. It’s alright. 

Price’s wife stands from the table, a hand on her hip, the other on John’s shoulder.

“Alright. Who wants dessert?”

Bugs chirp in the grass when you step up next to Price outside on the deck. Simon, Soap and Gaz are all in the living room with his wife, Theo asleep in his dad’s arms, cheeks squished together, sweet baby lashes laying softly on his face. Price taps his cigar once, twice, before clearing his throat.

“If you wanted too, Sassy, I could pull some strings. You could come to Las Almas.”

“Thanks, Price but uh. I wouldn’t pass the psych eval for field action? And I’m probably not able to be medically cleared either.” You point to your shoulder, the one that has the nerve damage in it, and he nods. “But, I appreciate the offer.” You sigh, turning around and pinning your hands against the railing, kicking your shoes together before blowing out a deep breath. “I never thanked you.” You say softly. “For taking care of him… during the- when I was- when we were separated. I know… I know he was in a bad place and you both really supported him.” Price nods, cigar pulling free from his lips. “And… I know we never really… talked it out but… I do forgive you.” His head tilts, eyes heavy with full of a world of things you can only imagine.

“What I did, what Simon and I did… it was a mistake. I made a judgement call based on the situation I was put in and… it was the wrong one.” He says lowly and you nod.

“It was, but I consider us square.” You close your eyes. “I remember you, that day. When you guys came for me. I remember… hearing you talk to Simon when the heli landed. When he thought I was already dead. When he-“ Your voice breaks, because it’s too much to try to remember, too much to pull to the forefront of your mind. The memory of Simon’s hoarse screams, his pleas, his hands stained with blood. Your own vision blurred red, Soap holding pressure against two of your wounds, Gaz wrestling a pistol from Simon’s iron grip, Simon trying to die alongside of you, refusing to exist in a world where you don't and Price’s shout, his command for Simon to stand down ringing out above it all. “You kept him alive, kept reminding him he had Theo at home, waiting for him, and I owe you for that.”

“You don’ owe me anything, Sassy.”

“Well, I like to think we’re even at least.” You smile and he nods, blue eyes twinkling under the porch lamp, cigar burning a red hole in the darkness.

“We’re even then.” He agrees, and you turn to look through the living room window, where Simon’s hand is resting gently on Theo’s back, rubbing a soft circle to soothe him as he sleeps fitfully.

“I gotta get them home.” You jerk your head in their direction, and he smiles.

“Goodnight Sassy.”

“Night, Captain.”

You are nervous as hell when you climb into bed that night. Theo’s asleep, locks triple and quadruple checked, water bottle filled and stationed next to your side of the bed. You’re half laying, half sitting up in a mound of pillows, wearing one of Simon’s too big t-shirts and a pair of cotton shorts, tucked under the blankets and staring at the ceiling when the bed dips beneath his weight, his body sliding under the sheet next to you. He’s warm, so warm, like he usually is, and you’re yearning to sidle over and tuck yourself into him, the feeling so strong it nearly saws a hole through your heart.

Breathe. Just breathe. Everything’s okay. You’re home. There is no danger. There is nothing to fear. 

“Sass?” His voice is even, gentle, calming, and you turn to face him a little more than eagerly.

“Hi.” You breathe. Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up. Don’t do anything stupid, or rash, or say the wrong thing, be cool, you can do it, you’re fine, you’re okay now, you’re-

“Talk to me.”

“I want to touch you.” you blurt, partially mortified, even though you can hear your therapist in the back of your mind telling you ‘It’s okay to ask Simon for what you want, if he’s okay with that’. “Sorry. I want- I want… you to hold me? If… you want to. Only if you want to. If you don’t that’s okay.” You frown, fingers twisted together. His gaze grows soft, softer than it was ten minutes ago or an hour ago, and he nods, opening his arm to lift the blankets so you can scoot closer.

When you do, he brings you into his chest, tucking your face into his neck and folding his arm along your back, heavy palm sliding up and down your spine.

Home. It feels like home. It feels like happiness, and being whole, and feeling like yourself. It feels like your bed, your husband, your son, sleeping peacefully within these walls. It feels like everything’s okay, feels like you’re safe, feels like you’re going to be alright. It feels like home, for the first time in almost a year and it shocks you, the emotional swell of your feelings pulling tears to your eyes because you realize, you finally see, that it was Simon all along. Simon is your home, Simon is your anchor, Simon is your sanity. The father of your child, the man you married, the love of your life. It’s always been him. How could you have been so blind?

You’re crying now, tears soaking his skin, the neck of his t shirt and he’s holding you tight, trying to soothe you, his hand now brushing away the rapid tears that are falling down your cheeks.

“You’re okay, Sass. It’s alright.” He tries to calm you, but it only makes you cry harder into him.

“I know!” you sob. “I know it’s okay.” You sound nonsensical, breaths coming in shorter bursts, and you can feel his muscles tightening, his own panic starting to build over the state you’re working yourself into. “I’m s-sorry.” You sputter. “I’m so sorry. I ruined everything. I ru-ruined us.”

“You didn’t, I promise.” He’s lying. He’s lying. He has to be, because how could that be true? After everything. After the hell you put him through. After the way you reacted the other night. After it all, how could he still be here, still want you? It didn’t make sense. You didn’t deserve him. You didn’t deserve anything.

“I don’t deserve you.” you cry, and he goes completely still, hand freezing on your skin, body frozen in the bed. You feel it, the stiffness, like he’s gone to stone, and it makes your heart race, makes you so nervous that your head spins until he speaks.

“I didn’t deserve you, for a long time.” He croaks. “I didn’t deserve to be in your life, didn’t deserve to be a father to Theo. Didn’t feel like I deserved to marry ya either. Could hardly believe it was happening, standin’ up there. Felt like I was in a bloody dream.” He leans back, tilting your chin upwards so he can look in your eyes, his own holding tears that match yours. “You gave me another chance. You forgave me. You showed me grace. Don’t you think you deserve a little bit o’ that yourself?” You take a shaky breath and consider his words. Do you? Do you think you deserve some grace? You close your eyes and count to ten in your mind.

You are still you. You are strong. You are a mother. You are a wife. 

You are loved. 

You are worthy of being loved. 

You are worthy of being loved. 

When you open your eyes, he’s staring at you intently, his eyes full of hope, full of love and understanding, carrying the weight of decades of pain, the strength of survival, the burden of everything. The burden that you too, carry alongside him. The burden that the two of you have always shared, even before this year, last year, before Theo was even born. A burden born out of trauma and broken homes and bloodshed; a weight that doesn’t feel so heavy when he’s by your side.

Two knuckles stroke along the apple of your cheek, and you turn your lips towards his palm, pressing a soft, gentle kiss against his skin.

“I love you.” you whisper it, eyes wide open, looking up at him through blurry and tearful vision.

“I love you.” He says back, pulling your hand into his, kissing your pulse point tenderly, and then folds you back into his arms, your own limbs tangling with his until all you can feel, all you can see, or smell is him. Simon, your person. Simon, Theo’s dad. Simon, your husband.

Simon, your home.

[vaguesxrrow]

Can you do prompt number 29 with the cat king please(:

tysm for the request ! ive never written for him before so i was very excited to. this is short but sweet so i hope u dont mind that <3

cat king / reader - doing something silly to cheer them up

a/n: i'm not the best at writing jokes so apologies if this sounds a bit clunky 😅 and also this is the pic of the apron thomas wears

wc: 777

tags: gender neutral reader, alive human reader

prompt 29. doing something silly to cheer them up // one time thomas does it for you, and one time you do the same for him

you stumbled into your flat, immediately dropping your bag in favour of massaging your temple, where a throbbing headache was working away at your sanity. a cat padded up to you, meowing in question. a cloud of dust formed, and before you stood thomas, slitted eyes narrowed in concern.

"headache, babe?" he asked.

you nodded. "i've had it since noon."

he tutted in sympathy, kissing you on the forehead. "let's get you to bed," he said as he snapped his fingers, transporting you to your bedroom, where the lights were already dimmed and your pillows were already arranged in the exact way you liked them. he ushered you onto your mattress, tucking you in.

"sleep," he whispered into your ear, and you felt your eyes get heavy as you relaxed into the mattress.

you only woke again to the irresistible aroma of cookies. letting your nose lead you, you trudged to the kitchen, where your eyes immediately zeroed in on the plate of gingerbread cookies on the table. when reaching for them, you realised the gingerbread men were all missing some part of their body, and had comedic frowns drawn on their faces in icing. the one you were holding right now was missing a hand, and its expression looked very clearly upset.

you laughed. "thomas, did you make these?"

he was standing at the kitchen counter, bent over what you presumed to be another batch, with a piping tube in his hand. when he whirled around, you only laughed harder. his apron - god knew where he got that from - was neon green, and had the words 'the food has weed in it' neatly embroidered on the front, surrounded by various flowers and plants... including the one mentioned in the text.

"only the best for my sweetheart," he stated simply. "don't they look positively… horrified?"

"they do," you agreed. "i didn't know you had such a talent for baking... or that you've had this very unique apron this whole time."

he kissed you chastely. "i'm glad you're smiling again."

you grinned, leaning in again for a deeper kiss. "all thanks to you."

⌦ --

"would it be bad of me to kill a disciple?" thomas asked, flopping face down onto your bed. when he had appeared at your window, clawing furiously at the glass, you barely batted an eye before letting him in. he had paced for a while in cat form, growling furiously, before he transformed and began a tangent on how problematic his cats were being these days.

"i am their king!" he said, now. "do they not realise that? or... do i not act like it?"

you awh'ed in sympathy, moving to lay shoulder to shoulder with him. both of you were stomach down. your eyes were firmly trained on thomas, who was still adamantly huffing into your bedsheets.

"honestly, thomas, i think they're just jealous," you said casually. "i bet they spend time behind gargabe cans whining about how much they wish they were you. you know that whiny one, karl? yeah, he seems like the type to throw a hissy fit and be petty."

he barked (irony unintended) a short laugh. at last, he turned around to face you. "really?" he drawled.

you nodded vigorously. "oh, yeah," you said, sounding extremely convinced. "y'know those book clubs with old, gossipy ladies? that's definitely them."

thomas bit back an amused smile. "are you calling my cats old?"

"hey!" you said defensively. "you were the one complaining about them first."

"i'm their king, i'm allowed to say that," he argued.

you ran a hand over the nape of his neck, scritching the spot where his hair began. "yeah, you are. and you're a great king. no one could doubt that."

he preened under your touch, moving closer for more contact. you smirked mischievously, your gentle touch suddenly changing to a tickle attack as you jabbed your fingers into his neck. he yelped, even as a surprised laugh burst from his throat.

"what was that for?" he gasped in betrayal.

"clearly my humour wasn't enough to make you laugh, so i resorted to more physical means." you sat up, looking at him in challenge.

he snickered. "well, you know i'm all about payback," he said as he transformed into his cat form with a playful growl. he nimbly climbed up your shoulders, weaving around your neck and licking the back of your ears as you squirmed, trying to escape. you squawked when thomas transformed back, collapsing on top of you as he chuckled.

"the things i suffer through just to cheer you up," you cried dramatically.

he nosed your cheek. "well, just know that i appreciate it.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To a Tea 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary:  A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character:  Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don’t @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

You don’t often miss work, but that week, a burst pipe throws everything off. A morning spent waiting on your landlord, then the next few hours for a plumber, has things a bit off kilter. Even the next day, you’re not quite back on point. 

The patched wall next to fridge reminds you of the disaster and a dingy smell persists. You hope it doesn’t cling to you as you set off for your shift that day. If you can, you want to pick up some hours from others if their up for grabs. Harry doesn’t like Saturday’s, maybe he’ll hand over some. 

You try to leave your problems behind as you catch a bus down to the city centre. You get to the tea shop five minutes before the hour. Jenna’s wrapping up the opening tasks as you go to leave your things in the back. You tie on your apron and unlock the front door for the first customers of the day. 

At first, it’s a trickle. Never very much at all. The early risers who often come alone or if they aren’t, they don’t speak much or very loudly. The smell of fresh baking and the slow rising sun add to the lazy din. 

“Thought the special was strawberry today,” you comment as you transfer macarons from a cooled tray to the display. 

“Eh, it was but we didn’t have enough jam,” she shrugs. “Changed the sign, is all.” 

“Ah, thought my mind was lagging again. Everything’s been off since yesterday.” 

“Eh, how’s the apartment, anyhow? Marilyn said it was something about a leak?” 

“Burst pipe,” you explain, “they took out the wall above the sink, buncha clanging all day. When I tell you this place is like heaven.” 

She chuckles, “can be.” 

“There’s a formal tea booked in the Marigold Room at noon,” she intones, “forgot to mention that. With Mother’s day coming up, suppose we’ll get more bookings.” 

“Suppose,” you go to check the schedule hanging on the wall. “Party of twelve, wow.” 

“I’ll man the till. Honest, since those ladies at New Years, I’ve hated doing them.” 

“No problem, Harry should be here, shouldn’t he?” 

“Well, he’s... called in.” 

“Again?” You whine as you face her. 

“Are you really surprised?” She scoffs. 

“No one else to cover? Not even Louisa?” 

“Nah, she’s on holiday still.” 

You huff, “fine. Not much of a choose then, is it?” 

🫖

The tea room is as close to raucous as you’ve ever heard it. You have your back to the rest of the shop as you balance the stacked serving trays with an array of sponge cake, fruit, and biscuits. It’s the typical assortment for a tea party booking. 

You’ve already served the tea and the sandwiches, and dessert is the last bit, along with any further pots needed to be steeped throughout. With a partner, it isn’t hard to keep up, but alone, it’s rather overwhelming. Jenna does her best to assist but there aren’t many lulls around lunch time. 

Beyond that, the tourists are chatty. You could hardly get away to fetch each course as they wanted to chat about the culture and your suggestions of what they should do next. It’s nice that they’re friendly but still stressful. 

You put the trays on the cart and roll it around the counter. As you do, you nearly skid to a halt. In the rush, you hadn’t noticed him. Your eyes meet Raymond’s as he watches you. Intent, intense. You give an apologetic smile and nod in acknowledgement. Jenna wanted to deal with the main room, she’ll have to wipe down his table and do her best. 

You roll behind the wall and into the Marigold room. You present the tray and grab it by the ring at the top, lifting it onto the centre of the table. You roll around to gather the empty plates and cups, taking two pots for refill. 

You come back out and see Raymond standing, just as he was. He sees you too. Watching, hands folded, knuckles white, jaw set. He’s usually patient but you don’t know how long he’s been waiting. 

You roll behind the counter and sigh, clearing off the cart as Jenna steams a tea latte. 

“Can you wipe Raymond’s table?” You ask. 

“Who?” She furrows her brow. 

You glance over your shoulder toward the man in question and she follows. She rolls her eyes, “I tried, I wiped the the table. He didn’t sit.” 

“Hm, well... did you wash your hands first?” 

“Christ Almighty, what is he a child?” 

“Jen, he’s just... you know, my mom’s the same. He can’t help it.” 

“You can deal with him. I won’t be arsed,” she sniffs, “he was rude and you know I don’t got time for those ones.” 

“Jenna, I’m kinda up to my eyes,” you dump the used bags from a pot. “I know he can be prickly but just wash your hands and redo the table.” 

“Ugh, fine,” she sneers, “but you owe me.” 

“Let’s call it even,” you retort as you pour boiling water into the pots mouth. 

She shakes her head and huffs, “guess it is.” 

🫖

It’s nearly three in the afternoon. It’s quiet. Harry’s on his phone instead of doing the cups and your wiping the empty tables to keep yourself moving. The door opens and you glance over to make sure Harry’s alert. He’s not. 

Doesn’t matter. It’s him. Raymond. You stand and clutch the cloth tight in your hand as you greet him. 

“Be right with you, Raymond,” you assure him. 

He barely looks at you as he goes to wait next to his table. You go behind the counter and mutter under your breath in Harry’s direction, “...dirty cups.” You wash your hands and make sure to clink some of the empty porcelain in an effort to draw your coworker’s attention. He’s still entranced by his phone. 

You take the disinfectant wipes and go back out. You approach Raymond as he checks his watch. 

“How are you today?” You ask. 

He grumbles and shrugs, “fine.” 

“English Breakfast, black,” you declares as you finish wiping up, “usual.” 

“So you remember,” he challenges as he steps close, closer than ever, before sidling around to sit. 

“Of course, I always do,” you smile. 

“And last time?” 

“Last time...” 

“Twice.” 

You’re confused. What is he talking about? 

“I came on Tuesday and you weren’t here. Then on Thursday, you didn’t even say hello.” 

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, Raymond, it was a busy day. Tuesday, I had a personal emergency so I didn’t even know you’d been in--” 

“I’ll have my tea now,” he interjects tersely. 

“Right, tea,” you confirm and spin around. 

“Crooked strings,” he remarks dully, “again.” 

[samandcolbyownme]

Can you do a bsf!johnnie x pregnant!reader? idc if the baby is johnnies or readers cheating ex‘s. Please?

PS: I love your writing! 🥰

Warnings: mainly fluff, pregnant!reader, talk of pregnancy, talk of cheating ex, friends to lovers, mainly fluff

Word Count: 2.4k | unedited

——

When those two little lines showed up in that oval window, you were shocked.

You felt sick, excited, confused, everything. All at once.

You didn’t know who else to call, so you called Johnnie, and ever since that day, he’s been by your side. With you at every appointment, just overall doing anything he can for you.

“How are you feeling today?” Johnnie asks as he pops his head into your room. You roll over onto your back and sit up, “Better than yesterday. I think I can eat today.”

He walks on, sitting on the bed, “Wanna go for lunch?”

You nod, “Yeah, just give me a few to get ready.”

“When’s your appointment? Is it tomorrow?” He asks as you walk over to pull out a sweatshirt, “Yeah. Tomorrow at..” you close your eyes as you think, “noon I think? Maybe earlier. I have to double check.”

“Still want me to tag along?”

You give him a look and laugh, “Duh.”

He laughs and stands up, “Right, dumb question I know.”

As you lift your arms to put on your hoodie, your shirt lifts up slightly, revealing the bump that popped out overnight.

“Whoa, look who decided to finally show.” His eyes move from your belly to your face as you pull the hoodie down over, “Right.” You laugh, “They just decided to pop out suddenly.”

“I mean, you’re twenty weeks, so it was going to happen sooner or later, right?” Johnnie asks and you nod, “Something like that.”

“You sure you’re feeling okay?” He walks over, his hand rubbing up and down your back, and you nod, “I’m just so tired, and Ryan won’t stop texting me.”

“Want me to take care of him?”

You look up at Johnnie and laugh, “I mean, you can. I’ll leave that up to you.”

The guilt you felt of not telling Johnnie was setting in hard as the weeks grew closer to delivery.

You were halfway through and everything was heightened.

“He wants to work things out, but I just-“ you sigh and Johnnie nods, “He cheated on you, y/n. I wouldn’t want to go back to that either.”

You nod, “Exactly, and for some reason, he just.. doesn’t comprehend that I’m fully done.”

“Does he even care that you’re pregnant?” Johnnie asks, “Like at all?”

You shrug, “I mean, why else would he want to get back together.”

“Has he asked about you? The baby, at all?” Johnnie takes a deep breath and you can tell he’s getting pissed, so you divert, “Come on. Let’s go get some lunch.”

——

“I hope they cooperate tomorrow.” You laugh slightly, “I want good a ultrasounds of them.”

“Don’t you find out what you’re having tomorrow, too?” Johnnie looks up at you and you nod, “I’m hoping.”

“Jake says that if it’s a boy, you have to name it after him.” he laughs, “I told him that I think you’re having a girl.”

“I can’t tell. All the wives tales and stuff, they’re all mixed.” You sigh, leaning back, “I just wish this was over and they were here.”

Johnnie nods, “Yeah, I’m sure. You’ve been going through it.”

You nod, laying your hand on your stomach, “Oh. Johnnie. Come here.”

“What? What, is something wrong?” He gets up, moving to sit next to you. You shake your head, taking his hand and laying it on your bump, “Just.. wait.”

You give it a few seconds and the baby gives a hard kick, right where Johnnie’s hand is.

“Oh.. my god. That’s so.. weird, but so cool.” Johnnie laughs, his thumb rubbing over your clothed bump, “That’s so cool.”

“But weird.” You laugh and he nods, “Yeah, I just.. can’t wrap my head around the fact that there’s a literal human in there.”

You smile, “I know. Sometimes I forget and then they kick and remind me.” You look up at Johnnie, “Are you ready?”

He nods, “If you are.”

You nod, “Yeah, I’m ready for a nap.”

——

No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t sleep like you wanted to.

Your mind was, too loud.

Your phone kept vibrating, and even if you turned it off, knowing that Ryan would still be blowing it up.

You sit up, pushing off the blankets and walk out to the living room. Jake smiles, “Have a nice nap?”

You shake your head, “No. I can’t sleep no matter how much I try.” You sit down on the couch next to Johnnie, “I know I need one.”

Johnnie extends his arm out and you lean into him, letting out a sigh as you get comfortable.

“My brain won’t turn off.” You laugh slightly, “I keep thinking about this baby, and all the stuff and the appointment and..” you stop talking.

“And what, love?” Johnnie asks looking down at you.

You keep your eyes on the tv and you shake your head against his shoulder, “Just everything.”

Johnnie lays his arm over you, his hand resting on your bump.

Johnnie has been there for you for years, always being the best best friend he could be.

You were thankful for him, majorly. Without him, you honestly went sure how you were going to make it through some tough spots in your life.

He got you out of that relationship with your asshole ex, have you a room, a house. Everything.

“Actually.” You sit up, glancing up at him, “Can we.. talk?”

He nods, “Yeah, of course.”

You could tell those words made him nervous, but you couldn’t help but feel nervous along side him. You go to get up, but Jake stands up, “Don’t get up. I know that takes a lot out of a pregnant woman.” He laughs, “I’ll leave.”

You nod and wait until you hear his door click shut, “One thing I want for this child.. is honesty.”

Johnnie nods, adjusting himself so he’s facing you on the couch, “I think every parent can agree to that.” He laughs slightly and you smile, “Right, and well..”

You take a deep breath, “Honesty starts with the parents, right?”

He nods, furrowing his brows, “Yeah? Y/n.” He sits up, “What’s going on?”

“This baby.. isn’t Ryan’s.”

His eyes go slightly more wide and he nods, “Do you know who the father is?”

You nod, “I do. Um, do you remember that party that I went to with Tara, it was.. like six months ago or so?”

He nods, “Yeah, I do.”

“Do you remember..” you swallow, tilting your head as you rub your hands on your thighs, “Do you remember what happened with us?”

“Wait, wait.” He waves his hand, “Are you saying that that baby is mine?”

You nod, “I am.”

You can see tears well up in his eyes, “I-I don’t..” he takes a deep breath, “I don’t..” he laughs, nervously, “I don’t-“

You cut him off, “I’m so sorry that I kept it from you. I was just-“ you start to tear up, your voice breaking as you speak, “G-going through a l-lot and-“ you lay your hands over your face and sniffle, “I didn’t know h-how you’d feel or if you’d even wa-“

“No, no. No. Hey, hey.” Johnnie moves over to you, pulling you into his chest, “I get it. Okay. But I’ve been here. I’ve been planning to treat this baby like my own and with you telling me this..” he kisses your head, “Y/n.”

He reaches down, tilting your chin up. He smiles and wipes away your tears that are falling freely down your cheeks, “I love you, okay. I’ve loved you through everything, and this just-“

He shakes his head, “I’m here. I’m going to be here.”

You lay your hand on his cheek, sniffling as you nod, “I just feel so bad. Keeping something like this from you.”

“You had your reasons.” He nods, “I understand. I’m not mad, like I said. I’ve been here. Every appointment. Every time you felt sick, I’ve been here.”

“You’ve been here.”

He nods, “And I will continue to be here. This is our baby, our life together.”

You nod, reaching up to wipe away one of his tears, “Johnnie Guilbert, are you crying?”

He laughs, batting your hand away, “We’re having a moment, just, let it happen.” He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as he kisses your head, “We got this, okay?”

You nod, wiping your face as you lean back, “Now that you know, I can tell Ryan that it isn’t his and he can fuck off.”

“No, no. You let that up to me.” Johnnie smirks, “I can’t wait to one up that asshole.” He laughs and leans in, “I love you, y/n y/l/n. I promise, you won’t have to do this alone. Am I scared? Yeah, but I was scared even before this, now I’m just..” he shrugs, tilting his head, “terrified.”

You nod, “Me too.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Johnnie sighs, “I don’t, want to ruin this but, if I don’t ask-“

You cut him off, “I stopped having sex with Ryan two months before we hooked up. The dates on the ultrasound line up to the night we..”

“That’s my baby.”

You nod, “That’s your baby.”

You look over and see Jake coming down the hallway, “I’m not going to pretend like I wasn’t eavesdropping because I totally was.”

You laugh, “So you know.”

Jake leans down over the back of the couch, pulling you and Johnnie into him, “Daddy Johnnie in the house, who would have thought.”

“Not me.” Johnnie says with a laugh, “But I’m glad it’s me.” He leans over, rubbing your belly, “Is that why you’re so comfortable with me?”

You furrow your brows, “Johnnie, we’ve been friends for, what? A lifetime? You’re my emergency contact for Christ sake.” You laugh and he nods, “Okay, you got me there.”

“You know..” Jake stands up, “I didn’t want to say anything, but I had a feeling that this was Johnnie’s baby.”

“You knew about the hookup?” You raise your brows and Jake nods, “Drunk Johnnie wouldn’t shut up about you.” He holds his hand out, “Wait, wait. Not like that.”

Jake laughs, “I mean, he is in love with you an-“

“Jake!” Johnnie groans, “Can you not embarrass me anymore, please.”

“I wouldn’t shut up about Johnnie when I was drunk, too, so don’t worry.” You laugh and Jake claps, “Match made in heaven.”

You laugh, nodding your head, “I can agree with that.” You smile at Johnnie and sigh, “Now I just-“

“Mm, I said I’ll take care of that, sweetheart.” Johnnie stands up and Jake looks at you, “Ryan doesn’t know?”

You shake your head, “No. I haven’t told anyone but Johnnie.” You laugh, “And you, without actually telling you.”

Jake laughs, “Yeah, you should have known to leave the house for that.”

You shrug, “It’s fine. I’m glad some people know.”

Johnnie reaches his hand out, “Come on. Let’s go call Ryan.” You take his hand and you stand up, sighing as you lay a hand on your stomach, “This is only going to get so much worse.”

You laugh, following Johnnie to your room, “My phone is on the nightstand.” You point before taking off your sweatshirt.

You walk over, sitting down next to him, “I know you’re not a confrontational person, J. So you don’t have-“

Johnnie cuts you off with a kiss.

He leans back, “You and this baby are the two most important things to me anymore. I’m going to do what I have to do.”

You nod, giving him a smile, “Okay.”

He unlocked your phone and goes to the text thread with you and Ryan. He reads down over them and shakes his head, “Man doesn’t know when to give up, does he?”

You laugh slightly, “No, no he doesn’t.”

Johnnie takes his phone out and dials Ryan’s number, pressing call. He brings the phone up to his ear and stands up, pacing as he waits for Ryan to answer.

“Hey, hey Ryan? It’s Johnnie Guilbert.”

You watch Johnnie as he smirks, “Oh yeah, no. Y/n is doing fine, our baby is doing really good, too, but you wouldn’t know because you don’t ask.”

You bite your lip, running a hand through your hair as Johnnie scoffs, “Yeah, y/n told me that herself. Baby isn’t yours, y/n isn’t yours, so you can lose her number because if you contact her again. You won’t like what happens.”

He hands up and takes a deep breath, “Wow, I hate confrontation.” He sits down and you take his hand into yours, “Thank you.”

He reaches up, holding your head as he kisses it, “I’d do anything for you.”

——

You lay back on the bed, looking between Johnnie and the screen as the tech places the wand on your belly, “That gel is so warm. Usually it’s cold.”

“It’s supposed to be warm.” The tech chuckles, “But you got lucky with me today, so nothing but the best treatment.”

You smile, “Thank you.”

Johnnie holds onto your one hand with both of his, eyes glued to the screen as the tech searches, soon revealing your baby.

“There is your baby.” The tech points to the screen, “There’s the nose, the crown of their head. Oh, there’s their little fingers.”

You tear up, giving Johnnie’s hand a squeeze, “can you tell us what the gender is?”

“That was my next question, but yes.” She smiles, “I sure can. Give me just a sec.”

You nod, looking back to Johnnie and he leans down to kiss your head.

“Alright, by the looks of it..” she smiles and looks at you and Johnnie, “You are having a little girl.”

You and Johnnie both gasp. His body coming down to hug your head, “A girl, y/n.” He sniffles and you feel his body jolt.

“Oh, Johnnie.” You wrap your arm around his neck and you can’t help but start to cry, “Were having a girl.”

“I’ll get you some pictures printed out, she looks like she’s growing super well. We’ll get you back in here in about four weeks.” The tech smiles and walks out.

“Oh my god.” Johnnie cups your cheeks, “Holy fuck.”

You nod, “You were right.”

He nods, “I was right.”

He presses his lips to yours repeatedly and shakes his head, “Oh my god.”

You laugh, “I can’t believe this is happening.” You wipe off the gel and swing your legs off the table. Johnnie helps you down and he wraps his arms around your body, “My girls.”

——

I kinda rushed this because I wanted to get it out, but comments are encouraged. Thank you for reading! I love you so much! 🖤 catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: Your boyfriend misses you while on tour. Pairing: Mingyu x fem!reader Tropes: idol au, established relationship au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language Smut Warnings: sexts, lingerie, praise kink, cybersex, masturbation (m & f), pet names Word Count: 1,502 Host Tags: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye February Filth Masterlist Before You Interact

Listen to ♡ Text Me by DPR Live

Mingyu loves touring. Seeing Carats and the world with his members makes him beyond happy. What could make him even happier was if you could come with them on these tours. But, between your job not being remote and the possibility of getting caught by the press or fans, you couldn’t. Normally, on tours, they share rooms. For once, Mingyu was granted a solo room for the entire tour. Of course, he took full advantage of it. After every concert, he calls you and chats while you do whatever it is you need to do. Luckily, they’re in a country that isn’t in the opposite timezone to home. It’s hardly noon back home, but it’s also a weekend, so he knows he won’t be disturbing you for his post-concert call. 

He doesn’t even bother properly getting dressed after his shower. His hair is still mostly wet and dripping onto his shoulders. He’s clad in only pajama pants that hang low on his hips. Part of him is severely exhausted after a long night of performing, but he’ll never forget to call you before he falls asleep for the night. He flops down onto his bed, not even getting under the covers. Navigating his way to your text thread, his eyebrows furrow, noticing he has an unopened message from you. Instantly he can feel his cock growing hard in his pants. You had sent him a picture of yourself wearing lingerie. It’s a teddy bear set he’s never seen before. You’re perched on your bed with the sun shining on your body. Your hands are pressed against the mattress as you sit back on your heels, exemplifying the arch of your back.

Fuck.

Before he can think any harder, he presses the FaceTime button and waits for you to pick up the call. It only takes a few rings before you answer. You’re curled up in bed, comfy as can be. He absent-mindedly palms himself, hoping to alleviate at least some of the arousal he’s experiencing.

“Hi, baby, how was the concert?”

Mingyu can’t form an intelligent thought at the moment. His mind is still fixated on the picture you sent him without forewarning. You furrow your eyebrows together, confused as to why your boyfriend isn’t responding to you.

“Mingyu?”

“Huh?” He breaks from his stupor, “Sorry, I’m a bit… lost in my head.”

“Is this cause of the picture I sent you?” You tease.

“Why would you do that knowing I can’t be there to praise you and make you feel good?” He groans.

“I miss you, Gyu.” You pout.

Mingyu groans again, “I miss you too, baby, fuck– I miss you so much.”

You finally notice the subtle movement of his arm that isn’t holding his phone up. Though they aren’t terribly noticeable, you know exactly what he’s up to.

“Kim Mingyu,” you gasp, half teasingly, “Are you trying to get off right now? I’m trying to ask you about your day, and you’re too horny to handle yourself?”

“Fuck– sorry baby, I can’t help it. You look so fucking beautiful in that picture, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You pull your lip between your teeth before shifting in bed. Mingyu can barely see the strap of the lingerie still on your body. If he was horny before, now he’s fucking feral. His eyes darken, and he tilts his chin up a little bit. The sight of it, even over a video call, makes you press your thighs together.

“You’re still wearing it? Your lingerie, I mean.” He questions. You nod in return. “Let me see my pretty girl.”

You shift and prop your phone up against the pillows while you move to sit on your feet toward the end of the bed. Another low groan escapes Mingyu’s lips over the phone, making you rub your legs together, hoping to relieve yourself a little.

“Do you like it?”

“I fucking love it, baby.”

You looked so good tonight, by the way.” You admit, “I went on Twitter and watched some videos… It made me think a lot.”

Now, Mingyu is shamelessly touching himself. Still, you can’t see it. You can only see the way his pecs flex, and his arm moves methodically and rhythmically. 

“What were you thinking about, baby?”

“You always fuck me so good.” You start, “Watching you roll your hips and thrust just sent me back to the night before you left. You fucked me so hard, then. I was completely brainless by the time we went to bed.”

Mingyu chuckles, a smirk lightly touching his lips. “You sounded brainless, too, baby. So fucking pretty and stupid on my cock, like always. Are you just as desperate as me right now, baby?”

You nod furiously, “I wanna see you.”

“You are seeing me, princess. Did you wanna see my cock?”

“Please, Mingyu, I wanna watch.”

Mingyu sets up a few pillows and props his phone up against them. You can see the majority of his upper legs all the way up to his still-damp hair. His pants are pulled down just enough to let his cock out. The sight of his hand wrapped around his thick cock sends your mind down several debauched paths at once. 

“Go get one of your toys, princess.” He instructs, slowly fisting his cock, “I wanna see you get off, too.”

You scramble off the bed to dig through your side table to find one of your dildos closest to your boyfriend’s size. When you climb back onto the bed, you’ve already discarded your panties somewhere on the floor beside the bed. You don’t even wait for Mingyu to comment before you’re sinking down onto the sizable toy. Small whimpers escape your lips as you take the toy inch by inch. You start riding the toy at the same pace Mingyu fists his cock.

“Baby, fuck– why couldn’t you- I was watching a video we took before I left for the tour a few nights ago and– goddamn… I’d do anything to be wrapped up in your pretty pussy right now.”

Mingyu’s words only encourage you to start riding your toy harder. Mingyu speeds up his hand to match the speed you ride the toy. You’re dripping on the sheets below you as you fuck yourself on the dildo. Every thought is about your boyfriend and how desperately you wish you were there with him physically. 

“Gyu, I–” you cut yourself off with a moan, “I need you so bad, please!”

“Fuck, princess, I know. I need you just as bad. I couldn’t get home sooner.”

You lean forward and bounce even harder on the toy. Your tits bounce with each moment. Mingyu lets out an appreciative moan. Each time, you lift yourself until the tip is barely seated inside you still before dropping down to the base again. Mingyu fists his cock so quickly that his balls bounce with each stroke. His head is thrown back, listening to each sweet noise you make. 

“Gonna– fuck! Mingyu!” You moan loudly.

“You about to cum baby?” He asks, voice raspy.

“Please? Mingyu, please! I need it, please!” You beg shamelessly.

Mingyu smirks again, “You sound so pretty when you beg, princess. Go on, cum all over that toy like it’s my cock.”

That’s all it takes for your walls to flutter around the toy and your thighs to shake as your high takes over your body. Your head is bowed forward due to the intensity of your orgasm. Mingyu’s moans grow more broken and frequent than they already were. 

You hardly look at the screen again through the veil of your hair before Mingyu cums across his stomach and chest. He continues to pump himself slowly as he comes down from his high again. You had already wiped down your toy with a sanitary wipe and curled up under the blankets when he opened his eyes again and smirked at you.

“You alright, princess?” He questions.

You nod sleepily, “I think I need a post-orgasm nap.”

“Yeah? I can’t blame you for that. Why don’t you take off the rest of that pretty lingerie and get comfy clothes on? I’ll stay on the call until you fall asleep.”

You smile, “Aren’t you tired, Gyu?”

A tired smile grows on his face, “Never too tired for you.”

You feel heat rush to your face before you climb out of bed to change into one of Mingyu’s hoodies and a pair of lounge shorts. When you return to your phone, Mingyu has cleaned himself up and gotten comfortable in bed as well. Once you get comfortable again, you chat sleepily with your boyfriend until your eyes grow heavy. You don’t realize your words trail off until you wake up for a split moment to see Mingyu is fast asleep and snoring. You can’t bring yourself to end the call. Maybe just for tonight, you’ll sleep like this with him on call. Though you know you’ll want this every night he’s away from now on.

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2024© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @bratty-tingz @yeosangiess @minjaeluver @abbietwilight

[bitchlessdino]

Happy 3K Nana 🥳🥳🥳 I hope your celebration has been going well and, your actual vacation is even better.

Noone perceive me. So, because I have no sense of self-preservation, could I please request a drabble featuring ChanCheol. As long as it's smut related in some way, I leave the rest up to you. I'm excited and terrified to see what your brain comes up with.

Pairing: bf!Seungcheol x fem!reader x chan

Genre: smut, slight humor

Word count: 2.8k

tags: mention of infidelity, mentions of fem oral, banter, exhibitionism, vouyerism, body worship, choking, spitting, spanking, fingering, brief biting, blowjob, degradation, praise kink, brief hair pulling, unprotected sex, double penetration, oral fixation, plot twist

Summary: Being caught doing something you shouldn’t do is a big no-no, especially when it causes Chan to come across a 5’10 unit with muscular stature by the name of Seungcheol, your apparent boyfriend.

author note: how fun. my return i bring you a chancheol fic, pls enjoy as much as i enjoyed writing.

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun

“You taste like candy.”

His tongue traced your skin as if your sweat was pure concentrated nectar. Your giggles left your lips in a perfect melody, trickling as he made his way down your chest and wrapped them perfectly around the bulb of your nipple.

His moans vibrated off your body. Voice shaking to the point it could’ve been mistaken for weakness, but rather it was the radical opposite. When he replaced the plush felt of his lips to twist you between the pads of his fingers, he splayed effortlessly an intoxicating smile as the words he made left you begging for breath.

“Wanna worship every inch of skin. Fill your pretty pussy to the brim with cum. Make you mine.”

You’d drink every syllable, just as you planned to drink him up.

His bare skin was blistering, burning against yours as your legs hugged his sides. Your digits ran through his hair in fatigued confidence, thumbing over his smooth and flushed cheek. “Promise?” You asked in a sickly sweet voice.

“I’m a very bad liar, but I’m good at a lot of other things.”

You let out a light chuckle before you gripped his hair to meet his needy lips. His body enveloped yours in an overwhelming heat, muzzling your mind with incoherent thoughts. Together you were a symphony of lust, attraction, and animalistic instinct. 

That was then a deep voice made itself known at the bedroom door. It boomed like a loud drum, startling your intimate partner and causing him to jump away from you. He covered his naked body with the blanket kicked off to the corner of the bed, tugging you to his side to keep yourselves hidden beneath it.

Now the shake in his voice resembled fear, pupils trembling back at the intruder. “W-who are you?”

“Ask my question first before I answer yours. Having. Fun?”

Chan’s eyes rapidly blinked for Seungcheol’s, barely meeting the other man’s eyes, clutching the fabric as if letting go would mean letting go of his life. He swallowed with effort, giving a prompt nod of his head, hoping desperately it was a good enough response.

“Now, to answer your question. I’m the boyfriend of the girl you’re fucking.”

You could feel the other body stumble behind you, physically processing the information he had just been told. “B-Boyfriend? Boyfriend?!”

“Yeah.” Seungcheol's steel stiff body took one heavy step over the other until towered over your bodies, eyes piercing back at them in a cold, intimidating gaze. “Boyfriend.”

“Look m-man. I’m sorry. For real. There’s no way I could’ve known.”

Your boyfriend snickered. “You think that’s a fucking excuse to be fucking my goddamn girlfriend?”

“No! No. I mean—“

“What’s your name, kid?”

Chan held the blanket closer, tighter, against him. If he was sweating already from the foreplay, he was shooting bullets of nerves down his forehead from fear. “Please, man. I’ll leave.”

“You think you’re better at fucking her than me? You think your cock can do worse damage?” With every word, there was seething venom on the man’s tongue, burning tension in the already charged air.

Chan violently shook his head. “N-no sir, please I didn’t know. I’ll get out of your way.”

“You think I’ll just let you fuck my girlfriend and not want to know who it is she’s fucking?”

“At this point, I just want to go home. I’m not—“ he gulped, “a home wrecker. Not intentionally anyway—“

“Fuck her in front of me.”

 Chan blinked, “What?”

Seungcheol slyly grinned. “You heard me. Fuck her like I’m not here. Fuck her like she’s yours.” Your boyfriend veered his eyes on you. “That’s just what you want. Isn’t that right, you little succubus?”

You giggled a cheeky grin on your face, clinging to Chan’s arm as you locked eyes with the other man. “Yes, baby. I want him to bury his cock deep inside me until I’m crying.”

Chan shivered, cock tensing underneath the blanket much closer to its initially aroused state as heat crept the back of his neck and across his cheeks.

“Of course you do,” Seungcheol snickered, “my little slut is always so hungry for attention.” He picked up your chin between his fingers before smoothing his thumb over your jaw. “Ask him. I’m sure he’ll do what you say.”

You turned to Chan with the guide of Seungcheol’s friendly hands cascading over your body like silk drapes, they smoothed over your neck and shoulders delicate but with the weight of a ship anchor cupping a single breast. Chan’s face was overwritten with shock, unsure what part of you to look at. “Chan…” you moaned, like a siren calling to a sailor at sea, the weak helpless sailor being Chan.  “Fuck me, please. Fill me to the brim with your cum like you said you would.”

The devil himself let out a shallow breath, the carrot dangling right in front of him. He drew closer to you, hand reaching up to your neck before a digit descended down your neck, “Can I really do that?”

“Of course, you can,” Seungcheol interjected, “Just fuck her like you mean it.” Seungcheol rolled your buds between his finger, eliciting a whimper from within you and your body jerked toward him behind you. “She likes it rough. ‘Enough to leave her sore’ rough. Can you provide? Chan?” He asked him solemnly, the name sounded foreign the way he enunciated it.

“I can,” Chan answered confidently for once, fueled by a festering competitive spirit. “Like I told gorgeous here, I’m a bad liar. I’ll fuck her just how she wants me to.”

“Prove you’re not all talk then.” 

A switch was flipped. The hungry gazes on you had doubled and your heart pounding sound enough to be heard through a vast sea. Chan pushed you against the mattress, caressing the shape of your body as if ingraining the image through touch before the pads of his fingers dug into your plush flesh. 

You felt the unremorseful spat against your already wet pussy, Chan's fingers running sloppily over your slit as his other hand clashed with your ass. His fingers entered you fast and deep, giving you a taste of what was about to come. 

Chan licked his lips at the sight of you, letting his digits push in and out of you as you made those sweet, delectable sounds, looking just as–if not more–delectable yourself. Just like that, his throat was as dry as a drought in a desert, inching closer to your honey-coated folds and  panting to your beckoning until he’s atoms away. He held his gaze to you, a hopeful wish in his heart that the image of your pretty cunt never vanishes or fades from memory. 

It was then Chan was yanked by his blonde hair. Tugged at the root ,wincing out in annoyed pain, he now sneered back at the man who halted Chan's steps towards the gates of his personal heaven. 

Seungcheol slyly grinned back at the bitter-looking individual before forcing his face parallel to his. The elder clicked his tongue as if scolding him, wrapping his fingers tighter around the boy's hair when he felt protest. “You may get to have her, but you don’t get to taste her like I do. Have her anyway but that. She’s still mine.”

Chan muttered some not-so-nice things under his breath before agreeing. He let out a sigh of relief as he was let go,  annoyed now more than scared. “Fine, I’ll have no choice but to show no mercy then.”

Chan dragged you by your thighs and pushed himself against the cushion of your ass. You let out a rich moan as you felt him twitch against you. The head of his cock rubbed against the curve of your posterior before it slid through the divide, teasing you until you practically begged him to put it inside you. 

His responses to your pleas are anything but generous, only kind enough to sting your bottom cheeks with the flat palms of his hand. “So needy…”

He’s surprised to not hear fits of pain, but rather hearty moans of pleasure, urging more harsher strikes to your body that left you in a raw lust. “You like that? You’ll like this even more.”

Even with the warning, nothing prepares you for fullness from Chan making his presence known. His cock filled you with strain, stretching you to your wits. “Chan…”

“Whining already? I barely put it in.”

The smug in his voice only made you want him more, making you claw at your sheets like an undomesticated pet. 

“Excuse her,” Seungcheol entered, “She can act out at times.”

“Then I’ll put her in her place.”

Seungcheol chuckled, counting character points Chan has just gained from his response. “I like the way you think.”

Every thrust had the power of every fully winded stroke of his hand, slamming both your cheeks against the heat of his lap. Your face once buried in your face rose up to the surface by Chan’s vice grip on the column of your neck. The moment he made contact, you could feel the closing of your airways as he compressed around the girth, not once faltering as you swallowed every inch of cock.

Your cheek to his face, he could listen to every choked breath hardly escaping. “Take it. You said you like it rough, didn’t you? Until you cry, right?”

“Y-yes…m-more…”

“He’s fucking you that good?” The glint in your boyfriend's eyes excited you, as well as the permanent grin on his face as he moved dangerously close. “Needy little slut taking a stranger’s dick while I watch? You like that?”

“Yes, baby. He’s fucking me so good. His dick makes me so full.”

“Such a cute thing you are. Just you want until I get my hands on you too. Chan, stretch her mouth open. Warm her up for me.”

You felt another hand creep against your face, tugging you at the corner of your mouth. Through your gags, Chan managed to gradually insert each digit until there none were left. He could feel every finger coat in your thick salvia, plunge deeper as his cock rocked in you faster, heartier. 

Meanwhile, your front watched Seungcheol take apart his clothes. Every muscle, every pec, every ab in place and none the other wise. Your voice broke out in anguish as he exposed himself from his trousers, his lengthy cock making an appearance like the star of the show. Your eyes trailed his hand through every stroke, every squeeze, watching as he edged himself in a controlled manner. You wanted to relieve him of that burden, make it so it choked around your throat instead, but you knew you’d get the pleasure soon enough.

“Stay as pretty as you are, little succubus.”

Your boyfriend replaced Chan’s fingers, filling a space that fit what he offered rather cohesively like two perfect pieces of a puzzle. You blinked back your tears, hot moisture running down your face furiously as his cock massaged the inside your mouth and eventually down your throat, hitting you head first.

“That’s it,” he winced, “pretty little mouth taking cock like it’s what you’re made to do.”

He took the back of your head to make you bob on him, the squelching sounds music to his ears. 

“That’s so hot,” Chan commented in a breathy speech, “take him deeper.”

You were shaking, being used past your limits, and filled to the brim with cock on both ends. At this point, your eyes could only make out shapes and colors, blurred by your tears and loss of oxygen. The only coherent thought of holding cum inside you running through your mind. Their grunts were your background music, and the praises, and degradation was the melody. You begged through choked sounds as if you were on your last leg, not caring how much in pain you’d be in the aftermath. 

“Came twice already and you are begging for more?” 

“She’s very greedy. You want us to cum in you, little whore? Can you take being that full?”

Physically speaking, you were sure if you had a straight answer, but mentally, the thought made your stomach churn incredulously. You nodded, echoing every yes you had within you until Seungcheol pulled out of your mouth to hear you more clearly, “What was that? Let me hear that again.”

“C-cum in me,” you said through your heavy, hot sobs, “let me feel every inch of me full of cum, please…”

“I think she really wants it,” Chan teased.

Seungcheol grinned, parting your hair from your face. “Let’s not waste any time then.”

Planted on your side, both men were on either your front or back, taking residency in your walls at uneven paces. Chan pushed himself against your backside, allowing you to imagine the sculpt of his body through touch. He forced you to arch, guiding your body so he could plummet inside the very depth of you, while Seungcheol held up your front.

The heat of your boyfriend's tongue steals your breath along with the energy in his hips. He glued your thigh to his side, gripping you against him as the other man’s leg follows after you, overlapping you. You couldn’t help but feel so wanted, so spoiled, every grateful word in the dictionary. But no one was more grateful than the newcomer who was any second from exploding inside you. “Pussy feels so f-fucking heavenly. Your boyfriend’s so lucky.”

“Yes, I fucking am,” Seungcheol growled, “maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get to find pussy almost as precious as my pretty baby here.”

“If I’m only so lucky,” Chan chuckled against your skin, “maybe I need to learn a thing or two from you?”

“Handsome thing like you,” the out of the blue, a hand is on Chan’s ass, “with an ass like this.”

“Likewise,” Chan revealed a toothy grin, “one nice ass to another.”

You could feel Seungcheol’s smile against your lips and a second later, you hear the boisterous sound of skin colliding, urging an abrupt slam of Chan’s hips against your backside. “I like you, kid, maybe I’ll keep you.”

Utter shock ran through the younger man, followed by arousal and a string of cusses. Chan clung to your side, trembling, teeth digging into your shoulder. “Fuck, fuck.”

Eventually, the rhythms find a mutual harmony. Your toes curled helplessly as thick threads of silky white released inside you, the legs of men clamping you down on the bed. You clutched your boyfriend, determined to not spill a drop, but relaxed as the fatigue hit you. They splayed you out once you were finished, joining your side in rest. You looked of bliss, taking in a gust of breath as you relieved yourself.  “Wow. Great job, guys. That turned out better than I expected.”

“Yeah, Chan those acting classes really are coming in handy,”

The blonde rolled his eyes. “Shut up. Do you guys always take role-playing this seriously? I’m pretty sure Cheol bruised my ass cheek.”

“And I’ll do it again. You have a nice ass.”

You missed the banter. It was a little foreign to not have it almost the entire time. “And we’re back to reality.”

“I guess I don’t have much to complain about. You both did open the relationship for me. Thank you,” Chan hummed with glee. “Though it really would’ve been nice to have gotten to eat you out. Maybe once some time has passed—“

“In your dreams, twerp,” Seungcheol quickly retorted.

“Oh, I’ll be dreaming of it alright.” Chan nudged your face his way, “I’ll be dreaming of a lot of things I want to do with you.”

“Why dream if I’m here,” you grinned back, “I’m yours too now.”

His fingers ran through your hair adoringly, a cartoonish sparkle in his eye. “You are now, huh?”

Seungcheol thought he’d be jealous but it turned out better than he thought it would. It seemed that everyone was happy, even him, the guy that got the worst end of the deal but what more could he want than the smile on your face looking at him or Chan? 

Seungcheol nuzzled closer to you both collectively, his chin hooking in the crook of your neck. “We’re each other’s now. It's new, but I think I like it. I’m glad to hear you both do too.”

Chan looked over at his now boyfriend(?) in gratitude and joined in, sandwiching you in between. “I’m grateful for my first poly relationship if it’s with you both. I think it’d only work if it’s with you two.”

You smiled the hardest you ever had tonight, making an effort to embrace them both, and feel the warmth that radiated off their body keep you warm. “I think we’re gonna work out just fine.”

To be continued…

[honeytama]

Make Your Move - Chapter 6

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Matt Dierkes

A/N: She’s back! A little thing; a minimal scene in this chapter may seem similar to a sound deck scene in Unveiled Hearts by @thefallennightmare. I noticed it after I read her story (which I love), but I chose not to rewrite my scene. No copying here, just great minds thinking alike <3

Fic Summary: Find in Fic Masterlist

Content and Warnings for Ch. 6: Lots of fluff and more dating! AHH, some suggestive content, some smut 18+, hands stuff (hand job/fingering etc), almost caught, semi-public

Word Count: 8k

Tag List:

@xxkittenkissesxx @exitwoundsx @jilliemiw86 @abiomens @lma1986

@flowery-mess @doomhands-jr @rain-down-on-me @justdamnpeachy @thatchickwiththecamera @narcissisticbehavior81

@xcllnt @somebodyels3

After Noah and you had your late-night tryst in the showers of the venue, the walk back to the bus felt desolate. You walked alone through the hallways and into the dark, humid night as you exited the venue into its back alleyway.

The grin on your face wanted to stay there; you wanted to be elated that both of the men that you were attracted to wanted you. However, your face falls when you realize that Matt was right: you’re not being fully truthful to him, or Noah.

You feel it’s hard to swallow when you think back to just ten minutes ago. Noah asked what you wanted to speak to him about and you dodged the question. Wanting to believe that your brain was foggy from the sight of Noah’s body, and that kiss, was half of your reasoning for lying, but the other half is that you really couldn’t bear telling Noah the truth.

Outside of the bus, you pace the side of it while listing the options available to you: don’t tell the two men that you kissed both of them the same night and risk their friendship and your relationship with them once they find out, or do tell them and risk it all anyway.

Everything about the situation made you feel gross and at a loss. If only you told Noah about Matt’s confession, then maybe you wouldn’t feel like you’re on track to manipulating them both in the process.

“Why?” You yell out into the night, holding your head in your hands.

You calm your senses and walk to hop onto the bus to head to Nashville, Tennessee. While in bed, you finally decide you should come clean to both of them as soon as possible to save you the heartache. In contrast to your decision, you thought, why not indulge yourself in the fantasy you had never thought possible?

—

A constant buzzing tone from your phone wakes you in the morning; you turn over in your bunk to grab it while noticing the bus isn’t moving. You must be outside of the Nashville venue already.

Without checking the caller ID, you hold the phone close to your ear and mumble, “Hello?”

“Good morning, loser, get out of bed,” Matt's voice is loud in your ear. You pull your phone away from your head and wipe the sleep from your eyes before responding.

“You’re such a bully, let me sleep,” you whine and check the time. Ten AM. It’s a bit later than when you would usually wake up. “Where are you?”

“I’m finishing a run with Noah. I’m on my way back to the venue, but he decided to go the extra mile,” he answers.

“Oh,” you’re lucky the fact that you just woke up can hide the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. You hope with everything in you that they didn't share the things they did with you the night before. They could have been laughing at you. They could’ve been plotting to “dump” you. They could be planning to fire you from the tour. Clenching your eyes closed to push back these intrusive thoughts you finally respond, “Sounds fun.”

“Yeah, it was,” he says, unfazed by your tone. “Anyway, I called because I was wondering if you had plans at, let’s say, noon?”

“Yes, I plan to rot in bed with my phone six inches from my face until they need us to work later,” you explain, matter-of-factly.

“So you’re saying you wouldn't want to go out on a date with me?”

This shocks you awake and you sit up on your bunk. The crown of your head bumps the top of the enclosed space, “Ouch, fuck!”

Matt laughs over the phone, but questions, “You good?”

“Yeah, I just banged my head on the top of my bunk.” You rub the throbbing spot on your head as you return to reality, “You’re asking me out?”

“Yup,” he pops the “P” in the word. Even though he isn’t there with you, you can just see the smug look on his face. “There’s a hot chicken place I’ve been wanting to try since we’re in Nashville and I thought I should finally take you out. You know, just you and me, like we said.”

You never thought that this day would come, but you remember your decision to be open and honest with the two boys. This would be the first time you addressed the elephant in the room, “Does it still bother you that I went out with Noah a few days ago?”

He hums softly. “I’m getting over it. I did give you two permission,” he says. “But, I figured, since I told you how I felt last night… and our kiss,” he pauses again, “you would want to start hanging out with me, too. Just not as friends.”

You bite your lip and sway in your bunk. “You want to date me,” you sing in his ear, teasingly.

“Don’t make me take it back, Y/N,” he grumbles.

“Okay, okay! Yes, I’ll go out with you,” you say quickly. “I’ll be ready at 11:45! Is it close by?”

“Sure is, we can walk there together. Wear something cute,” you can hear the smirk in his voice again.

“I will,” you sing. “Matt?”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to let me hold your hand?” You ask, hopefully.

“Maybe, if you’re good,” he laughs before hanging up the phone.

—

You’re dressed up in your favorite casual date outfit. It’s only a few minutes until you need to meet Matt outside the bus.

Adjusting your hair and accessories, you look into the bus bathroom mirror. The jitters that have shaken your body since the moment he asked out over the phone have not stopped, and really, it’s getting worse. You have to keep your jaw clenched to keep your teeth from chattering. The only thing that can help you is seeing him.

You huff and head down the hallway to the front room. Jolly and Folio sit on the couch on their phones, relaxing.

“Hey, beautiful,” Jolly says. “Where are you going?”

Folio looks up from his phone too, “Yeah? Damn, you look good, I like that outfit.”

Your cheeks flush at their compliments, but you realize you don’t feel comfortable with them knowing that you have been on a date with Noah and are now going on one with his best friend. “I’m going for lunch with Matt,” you tell them a half-truth. Lying seems to be in your repertoire these days.

“Oh, cool. Where are y’all going?” They say in unison.

“It’s a hot chicken restaurant he knows about,” you tell the truth.

“Shit, that sounds good. Could we come with y’all?” Folio asks, excitedly.

Folio, please. “I would love that, but we're going to do some catching up as friends,” you give him a sorry smile and offer to take him there another day while you’re still in town.

“It’s all good,” he shrugs. ‘Y’all have fun.”

You wave them goodbye, “See you later for the show boys.”

“Bye, Y/N!” They sing as you exit the bus onto the concrete of the venue alley.

Matt leans on the brick wall of the venue looking at his sneakers.

“Hey, handsome,” you compliment him. His outfit is different than usual. It’s not that different, however, you could tell he had his idea of a casual date outfit, too. Your chest flutters at the thought of him getting ready for you.

Matt looks up at you at the sound of your voice. A smile slowly creeps on his lips and builds to a toothy, shit-eating grin.

“I see you wore a clean, oversized tee today,” you tease him while looking him up and down. “And, camo cargo pants? That’s so hot.”

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes. “I think that I look best without clothes, but I dont think Hattie B’s would allow that,” he jokes.

You tend to agree with that statement. He looks like a God when he is down to a pair of fitted boxer briefs. Besides the other features of his physique, below the belt, you’ve only ever taken a good look at his ass. You know that your life would be over if Matt were ever to catch you ogling his bulge, so even after countless sleepovers and pool days, you have no clue what he might be packing.

“Is that the restaurant we’re going to?” You ask as he comes to your side to start your walk.

“Mhm,” he hums. “By the way, you look,” you catch him sneaking a glance over to you, “amazing.”

“Thanks, babe,” you nudge his shoulder.

A ghost of a smile makes his lip curl upwards. He doesn't want you to notice, but you do. “I’m already regretting sharing my feelings with you,” he grunts before taking his hand in yours. His thumb rubs over the top of it softly and you smile to yourself as you walk down the city sidewalk, side by side.

—

“Can you order for me, Matt? I need to use the restroom,” you ask him.

“Yeah, I know what you like,” Matt agrees while staring up at the menu overhead at the ordering counter.

That was something that you loved about him and something you wouldn't get from Noah, not at this point. Matt remembers everything. The second you tell him you love something, your goals, even something you're just remotely interested in it’s like he has a notes app page open about it. Matt tends to order your food for you when you go out back at home, but if you order he’ll speak up for you if you’re too shy to ask for something specific.

“Could I have three chorizo breakfast tacos, please?” You would ask at your two’s favorite taco shop on Sunday mornings. Matt would give you a stare and a subtle head tilt to mention your customization, but when you don't.

“With salsa on the side. Not on top, please. She doesn't like it,” he would say for you before handing over his card.

You haven't realized it until now, looking into the bathroom mirror, but you have been comparing the two men you've been involved with and you don't like it. It’s not like you should have the privilege of comparing either of them anyway. Your choice to have one, for peace, is completely null. You could only hope to enjoy your time with the two of them until everything goes to hell.

Enough, you say to yourself roughly. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy your date. You wash your hands with warm water; the temperature change and the sweet scent from the soap soothes your senses.

You walk back out into the restaurant lobby and spot Matt sitting alone at a booth. His leg bounces up and down as he looks out the building window.

Walking up to sit across from him, he jokes, “You didn’t fall in did you?”

You giggle and get settled in your seat, “No, I was just nervous, I guess. I was taking a second to myself.”

“How do you feel now?” Matt reaches across the table from you and holds his hand in yours.

“Better,” you smile. He continues tracing circles with the pad of his thumb on your hand just like he did on your way here. Just on the soft skin of your palm, this time. “So, what did you order me?”

“I got you the mild spicy sandwich with fries. I think I got us a side of mac and cheese to share,” Matt purses his lips. “I got myself the hot sandwich with fries. You can try mine, but I know you’re not too into spicy stuff,” he shrugs.

You both speak at the same time.

“Thank you–” “Unless, it’s books–

“Matt,” you squeeze his hand in yours while making “What the fuck?” eyes to him. Ducking your head, you look around the restaurant to make sure no one overheard him. “Don't talk about my book.”

“You read it in public,” he says matter of factly. “I can talk about something that you do in public.”

“Reading on the bus isn't in public,” you defend. Heat travels up your neck to your cheeks like it usually did when Matt and you got on to the topic of sex. It happens often, and you hate that you don't mind it.

He shrugs and starts to laugh at himself. “I’ve Googled the title, by the way, I know what you've been reading about, Y/N.”

You decide to play his game. After over a year of dealing with him, you have found that the best way to combat his taunting is to do it right back. “Oh, really,” you tilt your head at him. “What is it about then? Describe it to me.”

Matt lets go of your hand and adjusts his hat. This is his common tell that he would rather change the subject, but in proper Matt fashion, he wants to play with you. “If I remember correctly,” he pauses while looking up at the ceiling, “It’s about a woman who moves into the house next door to this hot guy. Hot guy is a boudoir photographer? She does his marketing in exchange for him to teach her how to fuck. I stole your copy to check for myself and I remember the guy laying her out on top of a counter—”

“Uhm, I have the mild and hot sandwiches with a side of mac and cheese?” The woman delivering your food squeaks out.

“That’s us, thank you,” Matt coughs out.

“Thank you,” you say as they start to dart away from your table.

You and him stare into each other’s eyes with blank faces waiting for the employee to walk far enough away before you can react.

Once they have walked through the swinging door to the kitchen Matt is in hysterics laughing across from you. His keeling over the side of the table just so you can see the pleasure on his face a bit closer.

“Why did you just explain my sex book in front of the employee?” You cover your face with your hands.

“You asked me to! You did this to yourself,” he continues to chuckle while shoving a fry into his mouth.

“Also, I haven't got to the part you’re talking about, so thanks for the spoiler,” you huff before also taking a fry and shoving it in your mouth. “Shit, this is good,” you moan and relax your shoulders.

“Is that how you moan when—”

“Matt, I’m on my knees—,” you glare at him before he can interrupt you. “I’m begging you, could we please talk about something else?”

“Sure,” he calms and starts eating. “I wanted to thank you for saying “yes” to coming out with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was nervous that you might just want to see how things go with Noah,” he admits.

“Matt, I have had the biggest crush on you since, like, a month into knowing you? There’s no way I would pass up the opportunity for a date. I just—”

“What’s wrong?”

Here we go. “I just don't want everyone to know that I’ve been on a date with Noah and you. I feel sleazy.”

“It’s going out. It’s innocent,” he shrugs and bites into his sandwich. Talking with his mouth full, “You let me know if anyone tries giving you shit for it. I’ll beat their ass.” He swallows his bite. “If it will make you feel better, I don’t mind you saying that we’re doing stuff as friends. I’ll do the same. It’s pretty normal for us to be alone since people know we've known each other for a long time.”

Thank God. “I’m glad you feel that way,” you start. “Something happened with Noah. I need to—,”

“Tell me later?” He interrupts and then shakes his head, “Sorry, I don’t want to talk about him on our date. I just want to hear about you.”

“Okay,” you nod. Fuck, don’t take the out. You need to tell him, you think. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s ok,” he smiles. “Here, try this sauce. Shit’s good.”

You and Matt spend the next hour at the restaurant eating and chatting away. He feeds you fries and lets you try his sandwich. Which ultimately, as he predicted, would make you chug your drink down to get another refill.

He asks you to tell him about your aspirations again as your legs are intertwined with his underneath the table. He always listens to you so intently with a furrowed brow. It’s intimidating as all you want to do is impress him. However, Matt has never made you apologize for being yourself: for liking what you like, or for dreaming big dreams.

He reminds you of his goals in life and your chest has that familiar tingle by the way his face glows when he talks about them. He shows you his favorite pictures of his dogs that you have seen time and again. He gives you countless, soft-spoken affirmations and praise about how you look, the jokes you tell him, and your work ethic. He tells you how great you’ve been doing at your job. He’s proud of you and date Matt, romantic Matt… isn’t afraid to show it.

You feel loved. He’s in love with you.

—

Matt invited you to watch the show from the sound deck again tonight.

You agreed, excitedly, the butterflies in your stomach have yet to die down after your first date with him this afternoon. The smile on his face wouldn’t dissipate either.

The crew teased about how sweet he treated them when you two came in to check up on them after returning from getting lunch.

“What’s got you so excited, Dierkes?” Kooter, Bad Omen’s drum tech, teased from behind Matt while massaging his shoulders.

“Fuck off, go help Folio,” Matt said, brushing Kooter off. His tone showed itself to be negative, however, you love the way his lips turned up at the ends as he turned back to face you. His eyes smile too as they meet yours as if to say, “You’re what I’m excited about, Y/N.”

The crew set everything up as organized and as detailed as it would be if you two were there to manage the process, and the gig began as usual.

Later in the night, you stand at Matt’s side in the sound deck to prepare for Bad Omens to begin their set of the night. It would be two whole days since you would return to work after spending some time in Nashville before moving on to the next tour stop. Looking around the room, you take it all in, to save the excitement and fulfillment that your job brings to you every night. Fans line and lean over the railings of the balcony seats at both sides of the room; chatting and patiently waiting for the band’s introduction to the stage.

A group of women, around your age, stand in front of the sound deck barrier. They're laughing and taking pictures and you hear one of them dare another to ask Matt for a photo, too. He doesn't seem to notice, but the women catch your curious stare, they nod and motion for you to tap on his shoulder. You take a step closer to him, “Matt, do you want to take a picture?” You ask while lightly tugging on the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.

He turns to you, immediately. “Yeah,” He smiles and begins to pull his phone from his jogger’s pocket.

“Oh, sorry, not with me,” you giggle, patting his arm. “Them,” you nod your head the ladies waiting hopefully and excitedly across from you two.

“Oh, sure,” he smile falls a tad, but returns to assure you. “I’ll be right back, okay? Then there’s something I want to show you.” He steps off to the side closer to the metal barrier that separates the crowd and yourselves and you watch as the group’s faces light up at him. They cover their mouths in excitement and mouth to each to “be chill or be calm”. It’s hard to read their lips.

The way they feel right now is how you would be reacting to meeting him or Noah in an alternative universe where Matt and you had never met on that walk that one day. Every time you're invited back to the sound deck, you feel like a fan again.

Matt says, “Have fun!” to the group and returns to your side. “So, I was thinking about something cool you could do if you’re interested?”

“Sure,” you raise an eyebrow at him as he walks a couple of feet over to the lighting board on the table.

“Do you want to control the lights during the Concrete Jungle call and response thing?” He pats the console.

“What? Me?” You say, shocked, yet excited. “Hell yes, but what if I mess it up?”

“It’s super easy, not even you could mess it up,” he teases and you give him an eye roll. “I swear. All you have to do is control these two faders; up for brightening down for dimming, and you just lead the crowd to chant “Jun-gle” using the lights. You’ve seen it almost every night for the past week, you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll do it,” you nod slowly.

“Here, practice,” he grabs your hands to rest them on the correct sliders on the board. He’s soft when he guides your fingers to push the sliders upward, slowly, which gradually brightens the lights overhead the stage. Various groups of fans cheer in the crowd for the lighting, hopeful it’s a sign for their show to begin. Matt guides your fingers back down the board and the lights dim to black again. “Now, do it yourself, just faster,” he leans back on his foot and crosses his arms over his chest watching you experiment with the sliders.

“Ok,” you let out a quick breath. Your heart beats fast in your chest, but you would have time to settle your nerves as you wouldn’t have to do this until Dethrone, their final song of the night. “I think I have the hang of it.”

“Good, because that’s all you,” he says. “Sometimes I forget that you're a fan of all of this. I want you to have more of these experiences,” Matt leans in close to your ear, in hopes only you would hear him. “I know I can be an ass, but you deserve to have the time of your life on this tour. I want this to work out.”

“Yeah, I know,” you squish his cheeks with your fingers. He reels back and swats your hand away, but laughs with you before returning to his soundboard and set up. Once he’s out of earshot, you mumble, “I want all of this to work out too, believe me.”

—

You sang to yourself and danced at a volume that wouldn’t take Matt's or fans' attention from the stage as you stand with him tonight.

While you were still reeling from your day with Matt, you still missed Noah. Your heart yearned for them equally, although it is hard to forget the six words that came out of Matt’s mouth last night. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.” It has been on repeat all day.

The nights you weren’t invited into the sound deck you would stand sidestage and would get hyped up with Folio as he passed you funny looks from his drum throne. Noah would partake in the antics, too, when it wouldn’t take away from his performance. Like: Having dance-offs with you when the audience thinks he’s dancing alone, or giving you eyebrows and a smirk at certain parts of his lyrics, and when he undresses down to a tank top mid-set.

Tonight, you don’t have to hide your gaze on his hands as he lifts his overshirt above his head. The way the muscles in his back and biceps flex involuntarily by the motion makes you shutter.

It was the same feeling you felt the first time watching him live. The bass of his growls coming through the stage monitors vibrate in your chest and makes your thighs clench. Sometimes, you wonder how long he can hold his breath as he holds on to notes and screams. You imagine his tattooed hands spreading and gripping your thighs apart uneager to come up for air as he feasts on your aching cunt.

Matt can’t hear your thoughts even standing a few feet from you, but you feel like he can so you sneak cautious glances over at him when these delicious thoughts pass through your mind to he if he reacts in any way.

The show was coming up to ‘Dethrone’. Noah has nearly finished his first encore of the night and you take your place in front of the lighting board with your fingers touching lightly on the sliders Matt showed you earlier.

While waiting patiently for Noah’s cue to you, he finds your eyes in the sound deck. His dark eyes match yours directly. Surely, he can’t be looking at you? You wonder. You feel like a fan in the crowd who’s just made eye contact with their favorite band member for the first time. He nods at you, and then he begins.

“Concrete,” he growls into the mic before ticking his fore and middle fingers at you twice.

“Jungle!” You slide the light faders in tandem and they glow above the stage with each syllable the crowd screams.

Noah and you go back and forth. His eyes never leave yours, even as he paces back and forth on the stage, and he successfully directs you through his chant. The room is packed as it’s a sold-out show, but you feel as though it’s only you two present.

He tosses you a proud smile as he begins ‘Dethrone’ and it makes your legs melt.

Fuck, he’s so hot. Distracted by him, you hadn’t realized the number of times he had unintentionally made you blush and make the hairs on your neck rise. Let alone let you realize the growing need for him building up fast in your abdomen. You want any part of him, and preferably more than a kiss tonight.

You watch him perform their final song in awe; you can imagine your tongue rolling out of your mouth and drooling onto the pit floor.

—

After fans have fully exited the venue, you’re left with Matt in the sound deck with a couple of other guys from the crew.

You catch Matt yawning and he asks, “Are you sleepy yet?”

“I’ve found I have a lot of energy after each show. I’m gonna stay up for a bit,” you explain. Your lying streak made this fib too easy to tell. While you had a lot of energy, it wasn’t because of the music or the atmosphere, it was because of Noah. Impulsive thoughts appear like demonic ghouls floating around in your head whenever your sexual needs aren’t met. You wanted so badly to throw yourself at Noah the second you saw him next; to re-do your first kiss? To go even further? However, you can’t, if Matt is to be too close tonight. He was learning to be okay with you having gone on a date with Noah, but you’re unsure of his reaction if he were to find out about you doing anything more.

“I want to try to get to the showers first, but I should get all of this down so we don’t have to worry about it in the morning,” he stretches.

“Go and shower, get to bed,” you rub Matt’s shoulder with care. “I’m gonna stay here and help out.”

“M’Kay,” he yawns again. “Goodnight, Y/N. Make sure my stuff gets packed up real nicely. You’re the only one I trust.”

“Yes sir,” you give him a faux salute as he walks off toward the back of the venue. You smile at him, but your stomach lurches. He trusts you. He’s in love with you! I am being manipulative, you think guiltily.

You spend around forty-five minutes tearing down the sound deck making sure to pack Matt’s equipment, cords, wires, and laptops carefully away. You handled his things with care, even though you were half-distracted by the throbbing between your legs.

“Y/N,” a male voice calls from behind you.

It’s a crew member’s voice. Their usual lighting and production tech who helps Matt in the sound deck. “Hm?” You turn around to meet his face.

“Go ahead and wind down for the night. We’ll take care of the rest,” he nods toward the back of house. “Thanks for helping.”

“Of course, anytime. Goodnight everyone,” you set what you’re working on down and start walking toward Bad Omen’s green room with a sense of urgency.

Once inside, you grab your bag, your nighttime relaxation clothes, and the clean towel you pack in case you want to take a late-night shower. Tonight you do, but you doubt you’re going to be doing your wash routine.

Please be in here and alone. Please.

“Noah, are you in here?” You call out his name as you push open the door to the showers. The layout of the room is more like a locker room than the past showers you have used at other venues. One side of the room is lined with sizable shower stalls with floor-length curtains for privacy, while the other side of the room has a wall of lockers and benches. On them, you notice Noah’s backpack and nicely folded clothing. His boots sit together underneath the glossy, wooden bench.

“I’m in the second stall,” he talks over the sound of the steaming water raining down over him. A light mist rises over the top of his curtain and dissipates as it hits the ceiling. You can’t see him the way you could the night before.

You bite your lip anxiously. What are you doing? You ask yourself. Your body feels hot by how turned on you are and it keeps you warm as you strip yourself naked. Pulling your panties down your legs, you notice a prominent wet spot accumulated by the pool of your arousal. You stuff all of your belongings into an empty locker and softly click it closed.

His name falls from your lips before you can catch it, “Noah?”

It wasn’t in your plan for him to poke his head through the curtain, but he does. “Yeah?” His voice is innocent, but his eyes widen once he sees the sight of you. Your arms bravely stick to your sides to allow him to gain you in full. “Shit,” he hisses under his breath while making haste with the outline of your body. You watch his eyes roam you as you stand there in heavy silence before he opens the curtain a little more to invite you inside. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he says as you stand in front of him. Once you’re in the stall, you feel like his eyes will never leave yours. So, if you tried to sneak a peek anywhere but his face, he would most definitely know.

“Thank you,” your cheeks feel hot. “Is it okay if I shower with you?”

“Mhm,” he nods and hums. His low tone reverberates against the walls of the shower stall. “I was hoping you would. You have no idea the thoughts that have been running through my head since last night.”

His admission makes you feel tingly. “I hope I’m not moving too fast. This feels so out of character for me,” you shake your hands out.

“I want to move as slow or as fast as you do,” he confides to you in a low tone. His fingers reach to the crook of your neck and trace down your shoulder, to your bicep, to your forearm, and rest to intertwine with your fingers.

“You looked so good on stage tonight,” you admit as you look up at him with shining eyes. “Every night, I watch you perform, and it—,”

“And what?” Noah steps into your bubble. The tips of your breasts just barely graze his skin.

“I get so turned on,” you’re nearly talking into his clavicle. He slightly shutters as your breath hits his skin. “Noah, I’m so pent up, it hurts.”

“I can help,” he nods and his wet bangs sway. You watch the water from his hair drip onto your chest. The varying temperature makes you shiver. He notices this. “Get yourself wet first,” he instructs while switching places with you for you to stand under the running shower head.

You run your hands through your hair and close your eyes to enjoy the heat. You feel the same tickly feeling on your breasts that you always feel around him, so you open your eyes to catch his gaze from your tits when you admit, “Noah, I swear I’m already wet.”

His laugh and toothy smile make you warm inside, as much as the hot water warms your skin on the outside. He leans in close to press a kiss into your cheek, “I want to feel how wet you are, Y/N. But first, I want you to look at me. I give you permission,” his shoulders shake as he laughs at you trying your best to look at every shiny tile that lines the stall rather than his nude form.

When he backs away, your eyes trail his body. The freckles on his shoulders are the first of what you see. You reach out to touch them, but his hands come to your bare hips to push you slowly until you’re both underneath the warm, running water. The water moves in slow motion and you follow it with your eyes as it hits his chest and drips lower to his stomach. His waistline is spotted with water droplets. You take one last big breath before letting your gaze fall to his groin. He’s half hard and the tattoos around his lower stomper and thighs surround his member like he’s a work of art. Your shoulders shake a tiny bit when you chuckle at the sight of his wet leg hair and impatient toes that are dancing, waiting for you to look back up at his face.

You look up to meet Noah’s eyes, but you can’t help but sneak glances at his lips. “You’re so beautiful,” you whisper to him as you wrap your hands behind his neck and pull him down into your kiss.

He hums against your lips as if to thank you. Noah’s arms wrap around your body as you detach and reattach to his mouth in fervor. He scratches your back with his nails and grips the skin of your back. He tastes so good, so fresh. Your tongues fight each other for dominance and you win.

Noah groans when he feels your hand caress down his stomach and slowly makes its way to wrap around his half-hard cock. He feels so warm in your hand like he’s blushing down there. You open your eyes while making out with him and his cheeks are glowing pink. The sight of his dick on your small hand gives you raging confidence and makes your heart burst.

You begin to stroke him while kissing him. He grows harder in your hands and grows longer, and thicker. You move your lips and teeth and attach them to the side of his neck as he allows heavy breaths to fall from his lips. “I like the way your cock hardens in my hand,” you moan in his ear.

Noah grips your ass and it makes you pull away from his neck to whine. “I like that,” he moans. “So fucking much, you don’t even know. But, I want to help you. You can make me cum another time.”

You bite your lip and nod.

“Spread your legs, just a little bit,” he commands in a low tone. You spread your legs apart and he praises, “Yeah, just like that.”

He dips his head to your left breast and latches on, tongue first, to the nipple while kneading your other breast with his hand fingers. Water splashes off to the sides of the shower as he presses himself into you.

“Ah,” you whine when his dominant hand leaves your chest to snake between your bodies to your core. The pads of his fingers find your clit and give you a firm press before sliding through your folds, curiously.

Your dazed eyes meet Noah’s as he pulls his hand from your cunt to show you the clear, slimy juices that drool down his fingers. “I really do turn you on, huh?” He boasts before sticking his fore and middle fingers between his lips and lapping your arousal away.

“Mhm,” you moan at the sight of him licking his fingers clean.

Noah plays with your nipples with his empty hand while the right one is brought back to your pussy. “Do you remember when I heard you say my name?”

“Hm?” You’re dizzy and can’t fully think of what he’s referring to.

“The second night of the tour. The morning after, I asked you if you needed to ask me a question because I heard you say my name,” he explains while rubbing your clit in expert figure-eights. “Noah.”

Your eyes shoot open and meet his eyes, but they’re attached to your lips. “I was touching myself. Thinking about you,” you admit while whining on his fingers.

Suddenly, his fingers pinch your clit gently, but with enough force to make you cry out, “Noah.” The pain makes you shutter and collapse against his form.

“I’ve been waiting to hear my name come from your perfect lips again,” he chuckles while pinching your nipples at the same time. “Good girl. Now, tell me what you were thinking about.”

“I was thinking about, fuck,” you grind against his hand as he releases your clit to palm your cunt. “I brought my favorite sex toys with me. I was imagining you using them on me.”

“We can do whatever you want,” he speaks low into your ear before kissing your neck. His longest fingers prod your entrance and tease your pussy with quick, shallow pumps. The palm of his hand presses firmly into your clit and you grab his forearm for balance. You feel it flex under your fingers. “Do you want to cum on my fingers?”

“Yes, please, I need you—,” you squeak out.

The sound of the locker room door swinging open causes Noah to turn you around and press your back against his chest. His hard cock rests against your ass and you want to grind on him so badly, to make him feel good too.

“Noah, could I borrow your phone charger? I’ve lost mine already,” you hear Nick call out to Noah from the entrance of the room.

Noah covers your mouth with his hand and you breathe softly through your nose. His other hand cautiously rubs circles on your throbbing, aching clit as he responds, “Yeah, Nick, that’s fine. You can find it in the second pocket of my backpack.”

You start to grind up against Noah feeling his dick harden against your skin, again, and his hand pressing hard into your private region. You need relief.

Nick’s footsteps echo through the room, and you can feel your heartbeat matching the pace of his steps; so quick and to the point.

Noah continues his movements but goes a bit further to test the waters. He uses his weight to hike you up a bit further and you get the sign to stand on your tiptoes and bend your knees just a bit. Noah reaches his fingers between your thighs again and dips them in your slick cunt, slowly.

Your eyes roll back into your head, and you do your best to stay silent. You hope the running shower can hide how your breath hitches as Noah curls his fingers inside of you, stretching you out.

“Nick, when you find it,” Noah’s voice vibrates against you, “you can keep it. I have two others in my bunk.”

“Thanks, man. I got it now. Good night!” Nick says before you hear his steps towards the door and the door closing behind him.

With Nick gone, you moan against Noah’s palm on your mouth freely. His fingers are slim, but they’re so long and reach the best spots inside of you. His thumb rubs your clit as he fucks you with his fingers.

“Such a good girl for staying quiet,” he praises and removes his hand from fully covering your mouth only to prod your lips with his fingers to stuff them between your teeth. “Now, be loud for me.”

His name is broken as you try to say it, “No-ahhhhh, ple—please!” Your eagerness for full relief drives you to grind harder on his fingers, so much, you're bouncing on them and doing the work for him.

Noah supports your hips so you don’t slip on the wet tile. “I know, I know,” he says daringly while kissing the crown of your head. “Go ahead and cum, you deserve it.”

“Fuck, thank you—,” you hiss as you reach up and tangle your fingers up into the back of his hair. You release on his fingers and he hooks them to repeatedly hit your G-spot as you ride through your high.

“That was so hot,” he praises into your ear. “But, let’s try not to get caught again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you laugh as you stand while holding the wall for support.

“Let me clean you up. We still need to actually take our showers,” he holds your waist and pulls you back into the water.

—

“Are the showers going to start being our new meeting place?” He chuckles as wraps your fresh towel around your shoulders. The one you stuffed into the locker when you came in. You patted yourself on the back for remembering to do it or else Nick would have definitely known you two were hearing together.

“Maybe,” you shrug at him with a smile. While you enjoyed your private meetings, you also wished you could say and do everything you wanted to you with him in front of everyone else. You could feel that keeping things secret was starting to get harder on your mental health. Sex is the main thing you don't mind keeping behind closed doors.

Noah’s head pops up as if he has had an epiphany. “Do you want to go on another date before we go to sleep?”

“Of course!” you match his excitement with your arms loosely wrapped around his waist.

“Good, because I already have an idea of where can go,” Noah reaches into the front pocket of his backpack to retrieve his phone. You peak at his screen as he opens his Yelp account and searches for the best milkshakes nearby.

—

Noah sits across from you in a black hoodie covering his hair. His lips are wrapped around one of the white and red striped bendy straws in your shared cookies and cream milkshake. He giggles as you pull out your phone to take a picture of him and his hand comes to cover your phone camera.

You playfully fight his hand away while snapping a couple of shaky pictures. “I need more pictures of you!” You whine. “You took so many of me when we were in Boston.”

“We can take one together,” he pulls his phone out of his hoodie pocket and angles it towards your faces. You both take a sip from the shake and he takes a picture. He looks at it before showing you, “You’re so cute.”

“Mhm,” you hum, sipping through your straw. This milkshake was definitely in the top three of all you have ever had. Noah knows how to pick good places.

“So, tell me,” he sits up a little higher in his seat before leaning forward. “Everything. Everything about you that you didn't day on our first date.”

“Noah, it’s past midnight,” you chuckle, but he still looks at you with eager eyes. He wants to know you. Everything about you. You mentally note that one day you could reach the level of comfort that Matt and you have, and you want to try to get there with Noah. “We have the next two days to talk, too,” you kick your legs in excitement and he smiles when they brush him. It’s pretty easy to touch him; his long legs take up the majority of the space under the tiny table you’re sitting at. “What should we do with all of our free time?”

“I have one idea of how we can spend a lot of our time together,” he shrugs and gives you a knowing smile.

“What?” You giggle with your tongue on the straw.

“You could share a bed with me at the hotel we get to stay in for the next two nights,” he suggests.

Your eyebrows raise in intrigue, “Mmm.”

“We would have to have one other person to share our room with us for the room costs to be worth it, but I would get to sleep next to you for real, instead of across from you,” he plays with his hands over the table.

“We’ve slept next to each other every night on the bus,” you think out loud. “I would feel comfortable with that, I think.”

Noah moves his fidgeting to the strings of his hoodie. You love to watch how nervous he gets talking to you. It’s charming. “I really like the way we talk to each other across the short space between us when everyone else is asleep,” he admits and you pout your lip at him in awe. “I’ve never told you this, but sometimes I’ll stay up and watch you sleep when you forget to close your curtain.”

You lean forward and rest your hand on your cheek.

“Also, because I stay up,” he sips on his straw. “That’s how I knew about— you know?”

You gulp down the shake in your mouth so as not to choke on it. He’s referencing what he reminded you of earlier in the shower. Noah. “Oh, yeah, that.” Your face heats up.

One of his hands shoots towards your open hand resting on the table. “That didn’t bother me by the way,” he reassures. “I’m flattered, honestly. Feel free to think about me all the time.”

You giggle before watching his fingers interlace with yours.

“You make me really excited, Y/N. I haven’t thought about being in a relationship with anyone for a long time. I feel so preoccupied with so many other things, but when I think about that with you… it feels possible.”

“Noah, that feels so good to know,” you say softly, it’s almost a whisper. You feel vulnerable now. “You have no idea how much of a dream it is to get to know you that way I had when I was just a fan three months ago.”

“I love that you’re a fan, but you’re also my equal. I was pulled into you the second I saw you. I still think back to us sitting on the patio bench at the L.A. studio together,” he squeezes your hand.

“Me too,” you agree. You two sit in comfortable silence for a beat.

“You don’t have to tell me everything I need to know about you, yet,” he chuckles. But, before we go back, can I ask you two questions?”

You push the empty shake glass to the side and hold both of his hands in the center of the table. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I want,” he says. “First, do you say yes to at least rooming with me at the hotel the next two nights?”

“Yes,” you nod with an excited smile. Whether you’ll have to live with the consequences of your answer or not, you’ll see.

“Lucky me,” he smiles. “Second—,” he takes his time to continue, “what are you looking for with your time with me? Is it just fun, a relationship… I want to know.”

[sammysficfactory]

Gone and Back Again

Clark Kent x blackcoded!reader

tags: angst, hurt/eventual comfort, fluff

summary: clark chose the world over you, and comes to regret his decision.

wc: 4.7k words

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abandonment

notes: bruce wayne cameo🤭, clark is a coward, reader is a MOTHA..NO DRAMA, yes the baby is named jonathan, feedback is welcome

beta reader comments: damn 6 years a secret?? them glasses work wonders

"Clark is that you? Why are you up?" Clark freezes when he hears your sleepy voice. He pushes what looks like a large bag out of your line of sight.

“Go back to bed sweetheart, I’m just going for a drive. I’ll be back in the morning.” Clark walks through the dark and places a kiss on your forehead and your large belly. You nod sleepily.

“Alright, be safe. I love you.” Is all you say before you find yourself drifting off to sleep again. Clark sighs in relief, he never planned on leaving his wife and coming child, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made.

The next morning, you wake up to a cold and empty half of the bed. It seems that Clark hadn’t come back from his late night drive. You don’t think much of it, writing it off as him losing track of time. But when hours start to go by and Clark hasn't returned, you find yourself getting antsy. You pull out your phone and call your husband.

“Come on, pick up..” You murmur, pacing around your living room floor. Clark doesn’t answer, even when you call a second and third time. This wasn’t like him at all, even when Clark was at work he made sure to pick up if you called a second time. You begin making calls, starting with his job.

"Good morning, Daily Planet. May I ask who's calling?" a woman answers.

“This is Y/N Kent, Clark Kent’s wife. Has Clark come in to work today?” You ask, doing your best to keep your voice level. You hear some typing before the woman on the other end answers.

"I've just checked the schedule, and he's not on it...He didn't give any warning either. Did something happen?" You sigh, that was definitely not the answer you were hoping for.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you for letting me know.” You sigh heavily.

“No problem, Mrs. Kent. If anything comes up I’ll call you back.” She replies before hanging up. You make a few more calls, calling some friends to no avail. You pace around the house in a panic, trying to think of places where Clark could possibly be. After a few minutes, you grab your car keys and drive around the city, looking in all of the places you think Clark could possibly be, all to no avail. You sigh, deciding to call your last resort. The only person you know with the resources to find your husband.

"Hello? This is Bruce Wayne..." You sigh in relief when he picks up.

“Bruce, it’s Y/N. Clark is missing.” You cut straight to the point, there was no time for formalities in your mind. You can hear Bruce move around on the phone.

“Are you sure? How do you know?” He asks, not wanting to jump to conclusions just yet, but the panic in your voice was unmistakable.

“Last night he said he was going for a drive and that he’d be back by morning, but he hasn’t shown up. I’ve done everything, I’ve looked everywhere. I even called his job. I don’t know what to do, and I’m starting to panic.” You quickly run through the events, tapping your fingers on your steering wheel as you drive back home.

"It's okay, just calm down. I'll get some people in the area to search for him." He says, trying to ease your worries.

“He said he’d be back by morning. It’s already past noon. What if he’s…” You trail off.

"Hey, hey. Calm down. Let's not jump to conclusions. He'll be alright, trust me. I'm doing everything in my power." Bruce is already setting things in motion, and that much comforts you slightly.

"I'll get in touch with you soon, okay? I gotta go." Bruce hangs up and you walk into your home. You check every corner of the house, every room, closet, and the attic. Nothing. Your phone rings and you pick it up, not caring to check who it is.

“Clark?” You answer nervously.

“Hi, honey.” Your husband’s voice comes through the phone and you sigh in relief. Your worry quickly turns into concern.

“Clark, where the hell are you?! I’ve been worried sick about you!” You exclaim. Clark sighs, his voice tense.

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me very closely. Are you in the house?” He asks, his tone tense and urgent. You sense something amiss, so you sit on your couch, listening intently.

“Yeah, I just got back.” You answer, you can feel his distress through the phone.

“I’m gonna tell you something important, you have to listen.” He sounds serious.

“I’m listening, go ahead.” You hear Clark go silent for a few moments, creating a tense and thick silence before speaking up again.

“I’m…Superman.” He confesses. You’re silent with disbelief before you reply.

“Clark, do not lie to me right now. I swear on everything holy if you’re lying to me-” You warn before your husband cuts you off.

“Y/N, I'm not lying! I always wanted to tell you, but I was scared..." Clark was telling the truth, and he can't deny the hurt he was about to cause you.

“I…Clark. This is a lot.” You sigh.

"Look, I know this is too much, I'm sorry, I wish I told you earlier. I just... couldn't say it. How do you expect someone to say -‘hey, I'm Superman’ to someone they love." Clark remarks.

“Clark, we’ve been together for six years, and we’ve been married for three of them. You’re telling me that you couldn’t have told me before?” You feel yourself growing angry and frustrated.

"I never wanted to keep secrets from you, I just didn’t know how to tell you." All Clark feels is guilt and shame.

"I love you, Y/N..."

“Clark, just come home.” Your voice wavers, for the first time the entire day you can feel yourself about to cry.

"I want to, more than anything..." Clark's heart hurts when he hears how distraught you are.

"It's not that simple, Y/N. If I come back, I'm putting you in danger..." He tries to sound reasonable, but he can feel his own resolve weakening.

“Clark, honey, please. I can’t do this on my own. We’re about to have a baby! You can’t just leave.” You plead over the phone. Clark's eyes start to well up as he hears you beg him to return. He hates hurting you.

"I have to keep you and the baby safe." He'd do anything to be with you... and yet, his fears still dominate him.

“We can still be together, we can still be a family.” You try to appeal to him through your tears.

"You don't understand." Clark can't control it as the hurt and guilt comes out as anger.

"I can't be with you or the baby. The world needs Superman. It's my responsibility." He immediately regrets his tone as soon as he finishes his sentence.

“Clark…” Is all you can manage to say, hurt and shocked by his tone. Clark takes a deep breath.

"Y/N, let me explain. I love you. I don't just love you, I’m in love with you. It's taken me a long time to know who I am... but this I know. I know I love you, Y/N. But the world needs me." The honesty in his voice catches you off guard.

"I was afraid of what you would think. I was afraid of hurting you by telling you. But, I had to tell you the truth. I couldn’t keep lying to you." His voice is as pained as his expression that you don’t see.

“How am I gonna take care of the baby when it grows up? What if it has powers like you do? Clark, I can’t do this on my own.” You sob.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. But the truth is I can't be with you. You and the baby deserve better than me. This is the kind of choice that comes with having the powers I do." The shame he feels is overwhelming. Clark can't believe what he says. He never meant for this to happen, but here he is, tearing his own home apart...all for the greater good.

"It's not your fault. I swear. You're amazing. I just... I can't do this." He hangs up the phone and you sob. The “greater good” had just ripped the love of your life out of your hands, and the crushing weight of having to give birth and raise a baby alone felt almost too much to bear. Your vision blurred by tears, you call Bruce to give him the news.

“Did something happen?” Bruce asks, but when he hears your soft cries he knows the news he’s about to receive isn’t good.

“You can call off the search, he told me everything. He told me that he’s Superman, and that he’s not coming back.” You feel yourself unravel the longer you have to speak. Bruce sighs.

“So he told you.” Is all he says in response.

“You knew?” You ask, feeling angry. Bruce takes a breath as he figures out how to explain his knowledge.

“I did know. I’m Batman, so we work together often.” He confesses, guilt and sympathy translating through his tone. You’re silent save for the occasional sniffle or hitch of your breath.

"Are you going to be okay?" There's a pause, no response from you.

"Y/N?" he calls for you.

“I don’t know. I’m eight months pregnant with a baby that might get superpowers when it gets older, and the only person who can help them won’t be there.” You exhale shakily, feeling absolutely helpless at the moment.

“Y/N…” Is all he says.

“I don’t know if I can do this…” You reveal weakly.

"Y/N, you're strong and you can do this. I know you can." Bruce tries to stay positive, but his encouragement is unconvincing. He can't help but worry for you and your baby.

"Can you... just tell me you'll be okay?" Bruce asks you, wanting you to hear yourself say it. You stay silent, not really believing him but decide to oblige him anyway.

“I’ll…be okay.” You say, your confidence wavering at best. You can hear his small smile over the phone.

“That’s right, you’ll be perfectly okay." Bruce's tone is filled with confidence once again, even if his heart is worried for you. He knows it's not going to be easy, but he knows that you’re stronger than your doubts are trying to convince you are.

"If you need anything, call me. Okay? I'll do whatever I can to help. You're not alone in this." Bruce reminds you, but it goes in one ear and out of the other. You can’t help but feel completely and utterly alone.

“Thank you, Bruce. Thank you for being a good friend.” You sniffle, giving him a satisfying enough answer.

“Always.” Bruce replies before hanging up, leaving you alone in your home.

After Clark left, you decided to focus all of your energy on giving birth and working to raise your son. The years have passed and your son has grown.

You shop around with your five year old Jonathan, your hand in his small one. His face looks just like Clark, with jet black hair and large, kind eyes. Jonathan is bouncing with energy, he seems as excited as a five year old can get.

“Jonathan, you can’t bounce around too much in the store. You might knock something over and hurt yourself.” You warn your son lightly, but your tone is firm.

"Sorry, mommy." Jonathan says with an apologetic shrug. As you walk through the aisle, your eyes settle on a familiar tall figure. You hope Clark doesn't see you, but it appears he already has. Clark stops at the shelf next to the two of you. He notices you and Jonathan, and he can feel the tension.

"Hello, Y/N." Clark's quiet and polite greeting punches you straight in the gut. The realization of his presence happens all too quickly.

He's right in front of you.

And it's surreal.

Clark looks just as handsome as you remember him, his eyes still full of kindness and joy. Your heart races as you look away, and you aren’t sure if it’s out of anger or love.

“Clark.” You greet him curtly, bitterness rearing its ugly head and making itself known. Clark's eyes search yours, looking for even a sliver of love.

"Y/N, I missed you..." He's holding back. It's a struggle.

"I know it's been a long time, and I've hurt you... But I need you." He starts.

"I want to try again. I want to be with you, I want to be with my family. I made a mistake, and I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you." He looks at you, his eyes full of regret. You look away from Clark, diverting your attention to your son.

“Jonathan, go choose a cereal. Mommy will be watching from right here.” You suggest to your son. Jonathan nods and runs a little further down the aisle and you turn back to Clark.

“It’s been five years, Clark. I gave birth in that delivery room alone when you were supposed to be there. You missed every milestone, and left me alone to take care of our child.” You say calmly, but there’s an unmistakable edge in your voce.

"You're right. But I just wanted to protect you, I wanted to keep you and Jonathan safe. I was scared that if I was here with the two of you, it would’ve put you in danger. If something would’ve happened to you, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself." Clark looks at you. He can't bear to see you like this, to see your broken heart on display, showing him just how much pain he had caused.

"I made a mistake, I know... but I love you. I want to make this right. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I didn’t regret leaving you and our son behind. You and Jonathan, you're the people I want to wake up beside. Please, just let me make this right." He pleads.

“You don’t think I was scared? You don’t think that every night that I was pregnant with your baby, I was scared? When you left, I had no one to rely on except for myself. I was supposed to bring that little boy into this world with you by my side, but you abandoned us.” You clench your jaw, doing your best to stay quiet and not make a scene.

“You chose the world over your wife, and you chose the world over your son, I’m not giving you the chance to do it again.” You poke his chest angrily, and you can see Clark’s heart break right in front of you. It doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would, even after all that time you still hated seeing him hurt. Clark watches you in your quiet fury, his eyes searching yours.

"Y/N. I messed up... I know." His eyes are wide, his voice is desperate.

"I'm terrified I'll lose you again. I'm terrified this is my last chance. That I won't get another." His heart is tearing in two, he wants his family back.

"Y/N, please... for Jonathan." Clark is trying to be strong, to be better... and it's breaking him to see you so upset.

“You lost me when you left, Clark. But your son deserves to have a father, so I’ll allow you that. Come over Saturday afternoon so I can properly introduce you to him. I still live in our house, so you know where to find me.” You brush past Clark, wiping a tear away when you walk to Jonathan.

It's a small step, but Clark knows that everything has to start somewhere. He watches you walk away with his son, and he knows that he can't lose you again. He needs to prove himself and make it right.

Time passes, and Saturday arrives. He can't stop himself, he knocks on the door. There's a tension and Clark's heart is racing. He wants everything back... to be with the woman he loves and the child that needs him.

A few moments later, you answer the door.

“Hey.” You greet him.

"Hi." he replies awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck.

"May I come in?" You nod.

“Yeah, come in. I’ll grab Jonathan from upstairs.” You usher him inside before calling Jonathan from the bottom of the stairs. Jonathan all but runs down the steps. When he sees Clark, Jonathan hides behind your legs as you introduce them to each other.

“Jonathan, this is your dad.” You say, trying to coax your son from behind you. Clark waves at him, but doesn’t say anything.

“Can you say hi to your dad, Jonathan?” You ask, squatting down to Jonathan’s height, trying to reassure him that everything was okay.

"Hi..." Jonathan's voice is shaking, he's frightened by the strange man. He slowly moves out from behind your legs and stands in front of you. You keep your hand on his shoulder to remind him that you’re right behind him, and that he doesn’t have to worry.

“He looks just like you, Jonathan. You two have the same hair, same smile, same eyes.” You continue to try and help Jonathan warm up to Clark. Your son steps out a little more and looks up at Clark, shuffling his feet out of nervousness. He sees the similarities between him and his father and decides to take a step closer.

“Do you want to give your dad a hug?” You ask Jonathan, noticing how Clark desperately wants to hold him. Clark has never seen Jonathan until that day in the grocery store, and wants to immediately start making up for lost time.

"Umm..." Jonathan looks between his mother and his father and hesitates. It's all new and scary to him, and understandably so. He walks towards Clark and puts his arms out. It's the first hug of many to come for Clark and Jonathan. Clark's heart nearly explodes from affection, he has been waiting for this forever. He holds onto Jonathan tight, not wanting to ever let go.

You smile at the image before you, but can’t help the pang of sadness that hits you when you think about the day he left. Jonathan and Clark look happy, hugging each other tightly.

"Jonathan..." Clark holds him tight, and vows to himself that he'll never miss another day, another moment of his son's life.

"Y/N, I love you. I'm so sorry for leaving you. I love you." He says to you, still holding onto his son tight. You struggle to find what you want to say, opening and closing your mouth like a goldfish.

"Tell me what you’re feeling, Y/N." Clark says quietly. He's still holding onto Jonathan tight, but he doesn't want you to be upset with him. He feels his heart breaking, as you seem unable to speak. He knows he hurt you. He's so desperate to make it right.

“We need to talk in private then.” You reply, not wanting Jonathan to hear you say anything bad about Clark. You send Jonathan upstairs to his room.

"Okay, Y/N." Clark's anxiety is building, he knows you still have a lot of anger toward him. He knows he deserves that. However, he wants to fix all the problems the two of you have. He loves you, and he wants you back.

"Talk to me." He says gently. You sigh, sitting in a nearby chair, gesturing for Clark to do the same.

“I don’t have a problem with you spending time with Jonathan, but I’m not sure if I can get into a relationship with you again.” You admit.

"Y/N, I made a huge mistake. But I swear to you that I won't ever leave again." Clark's voice is desperate and longing, he wants just one more chance. He wants to be the best he can, by being a father and now a husband.

"Jonathan needs us, he needs his mom and his dad." Clark's voice has a pleading in it, all he wants is for his family to be together.

"Y/N, let's give it a chance. Just one chance." He implores.

“How do I know that, Clark? How do I know that when shit gets tough, you won’t just up and leave? I went through that, and I don’t want Jonathan to go through it too.” You ask. Clark winces, he knows that your fears are valid, but he can’t help but get hurt by your tone.

"You can't know, I guess." He's being honest with you.

"But I want to prove to you... to Jonathan... that I’ve changed." Clark's eyes still have that same desperate pleading in them.

"Please Y/N, you don't understand how much I regret what I did." He holds onto your eyes, willing you to believe him.

"And I will never leave Jonathan... I promise. Never again." You shake your head.

“Clark, you don’t understand. When you left, I was so alone. I was so scared. I had to give birth alone. When the doctors and nurses asked where you were, I couldn’t give them an answer. When Jonathan started school last year, he started seeing other kids with their dads. Do you know what he asked me? He asked me where his dad was, and I couldn’t give him an answer.” You tell him everything you had been feeling up to this point, the weight of it being lifted from you as you speak. Clark can feel his heart breaking as you tell him about your struggles. He didn't realize how the decision he made affected you and your son.

"Y/N, honey, I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you... for Jonathan. Please, give me... give us a chance." His voice is genuine, filled with regret and pain.

“It took you five years, Clark. I wanna give us another try, but how do I know you won’t leave?” Your eyes well up with tears as you speak, your once firm voice beginning to waver.

"You can't know... You can't know if I'll ever leave again. But what I can promise you is that I won't give up. I won't give up on you, and I won't give up on Jonathan." Clark holds onto your hands, his voice filled with love and compassion.

"Please Y/N, just... just give us another chance." He wants you back, he needs you back. He can't cope without you.

“If I do this…you have to promise me that you won’t run. That you won’t run away when stuff gets stressful.” You sniffle.

"I give you my word, Y/N." Clark's voice is filled with sincerity and determination.

"I'll never run away, not again. The one time that I did it... I destroyed everything. I won't ever do it again." He looks at you longingly, he knows that he needs you. He needs your love, your warmth, your affection. He can't live without you.

"Please, Y/N. Please give us another chance. I'll do anything.” You stay silent for some time, trying to figure out how you feel.

“Okay.” You nod hesitantly. Clark immediately wraps his arms around you in a gentle hug, he's been yearning for this moment for years. He holds you tight, unwilling to let go.

"Y/N, I love you so much. I love you. I love you." A tear rolls down his face as he holds onto you, the pain and fear, the regret and hurt, it all subsides in an instant.

"I love you." He repeats. He'll never run again. He holds onto you, his hand rubbing your back.

"I can't believe I put us in this position, Y/N. I was stupid. But I won't let it happen again. We have to be there for each other, Y/N. We have to communicate. We have to trust each other to share our fears." He smiles, you’re finally back in his life.

"I'm going to spend every day making it up to both of you." He promises you.

“Let’s start slow. I don’t want to change Jonathan’s life anymore than I already have with you meeting him.” You suggest. Clark nods in agreement.

"Of course, Jonathan is still so little, and this is a big change. Slow and steady, that's how I'll repair everything." He kisses the top of your head.

"Jonathan deserves to have a mother and a father. Let's work together to give him the best life possible." He's happy because you’re back in his life. The pain, the tears, the sleepless nights, they're all over. It's time for a new start, he can't imagine himself being with anyone else but you.

"I don't want to push too hard... and I want to earn your trust back. It's all about you and Jonathan, all of... this." He points to you, then to himself, then to Jonathan's room.

"Jonathan is going to be so happy when he sees all of us together. He needs a family Y/N... and I’m ready to give that to him." Clark pulls back from the hug, looking you in the eyes as he makes this promise. You place your hands on his broad chest, looking up at him and allowing yourself to relish in the familiar and comfortable hold of Clark.

“Can I…kiss you, Y/N?” Clark asks, this is all still fresh and he doesn’t want to move too fast, but he can’t help the urge to press his lips to yours.

“Yeah, you can.” You nod, feeling Clark lift your chin gently and bring your lips to his. The kiss doesn’t feel like fireworks or explosions like you’d expect it to. It feels more like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in a fire, like sleeping after days of insomnia, or finding water after walking through a desert for an excruciating amount of time. You don’t understand why, until you realize it. When you kiss Clark, you’re finally giving yourself the love you had been deprived of for so long. The two of you reluctantly break the kiss.

“Thank you. For all of this.” Clark smiles breathlessly at you. You nod.

“Don’t make me regret this, Clark.” You warn, holding his face in your hands.

It’s been about a year since your reconnection and ultimately rekindled romance with Clark, and he hasn’t let you down. He’s done everything he can to prove just how willing he is to stay with you and Jonathan. He’s been by your side as much as he can, occasionally stepping away for his heroic duties, but making sure not to miss any milestones.

“Daddy, mommy, look at me!” Jonathan does a flip on his trampoline as you and Clark watch him from your back porch. You and your not-really-but-still-legal husband smile in amusement.

“Be careful, buddy. Don’t hurt yourself, your mother already told you to be careful.” Clark warns, and Jonathan nods. You look at Clark impressed.

“Okay, Mr. I-mean-business. You need to do that more often.” You chuckle as Clark rolls his eyes playfully, pressing a quick kiss to your lips with a smile.

“Whatever. I reprimand Jonathan when I feel he needs it.” He tries to justify himself, but you give him a knowing look.

“Clark, please. Jonathan has you wrapped around his finger.” You snort, and he looks away sheepishly. Clark spoils your son, especially recently after Jonathan’s powers began to show up. Clark has been helping Jonathan control his newfound powers, especially his enhanced strength. Just a few days ago, Clark had to talk Jonathan down from pulling the kitchen door off the hinges after you told him he couldn’t eat ice cream for dinner.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately, honey?” You ask Clark. He shakes his head, looking at you.

“What?” You take his hand in yours.

“I guess you did choose us in the end, just not in the way we would’ve wanted. You chose to save the world, and technically Jonathan and I are part of that world.” You answer, rubbing his knuckles as you’re deep in thought.

“You’re right. But I like this choice best, don’t you agree?” Clark tilts his head slightly. You nod.

“Yeah, this is definitely the better option.”

[cryptidcorners]

can we pls get a jealous! vanessa x reader dear author 🙏🏼

Hawk - Vanessa Shelly x F!Reader

Description: It's one of the rare occasions your partner in crime is jealous, this time because you've got an outing with one of her rivals. While it's nothing too extreme, Vanessa still pulls out all her methods in order to get you to stay.

# requested by anon

Media: FNaF!Movie

Character: Vanessa Shelly

Tags: Jealous!Vanessa, Established Relationship, Fluff, Overprotective!Vanessa, Cute Stuff, Shy Love, Flirting.

No Warnings.

read my TOS + Vanessa Shelly Masterlist

Vanessa had returned from the corridors, holding several boxes filled with thin-texted contents and colorful folders. As soon as she slipped out of the elevator with her selected uniform, her brows furrowed at the sight of you talking with one of her co-workers. Normally, Vanessa didn't mind when you were drawn to her partners when you came to the station sometimes, but this felt different. You were standing next to another character decked in the same blue wear, who was leaning against the wall and holstering an infectious smile that had unfortunately breezed to you. Vanessa wasn't the type of woman to judge purely off of body language, but again, there was something in the air. She knew the situation had already been posted, so why not go for it? Vanessa inhaled harshly and approached in the middle of a conversation.

"So, then���oh, hey, Vanessa." The officer said, "You heading out?"

"Ah, yes." She nodded. Her eyes wandered towards you, "Hey, I didn't know you'd be coming to the office early."

You folded your arms and smirked, "Well, I got off my shift at noon, and I was pretty eager to see you."

The officer fixed their posture. "Oh. You two know each other?"

"Well, yes–"

Vanessa cut you off, "She's my girlfriend." and you could feel her fingers digging on your shoulder lightly. She then awkwardly added, "Yeah, about a year. Just us. Pretty sweet, right?" You decided to smile softly to blend the tension.

They laughed sheepishly. Obviously puzzled by the shift in the mood. "Well, congratulations. I didn't know Vanessa had a girlfriend. I'm happy for you."

"Why thank you." Then, Vanessa hand locked into yours, shaking it softly but noticeably. "Well, anyway. We better get going, right?"

You stammered an answer while scratching the back of your neck. "Oh, yes, right. Sorry, we got some errands."

"No problem." They said, "Hope to see you again? Oh, bye–" but Vanessa was already gently pulling you outside. You huffed, "What was that about? I was talking."

Vanessa opened the trunk of your car, slipping the boxes inside. "I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did. What are you? Jealous? Nothing was going on with them, you know it." You protested as you set yourself into the driver's seat. Vanessa clicked on her seatbelt, "Jealous? Me? Never. I think you're taking this the wrong way,"

You couldn't help but giggle though. "Whatever, just don't do that again, okay?"

"No promises." Vanessa cooed with a smile.

[skelly-words]

ChosoXloser!Reader

revisiting this bc I'm approaching the age of the MC. i wrote two chapters on ao3 then forgot abt it, so i'm trying to finish a third to get it to a stopping point.

October Birds: Chapter 1

tags- fem!reader, roommate!shoko, yuuji and choso are brothers, college au, fluff, eventual smut, idk it's pretty chill

wc- 2k

Rain splatters on the cafe window, dripping lazily down the glass. Your breath fogs up the pane, losing yourself in the misty morning as you ignore your homework and the busyness of the morning rush. The lab report leers at you from your open laptop, not that you care, too enraptured in the pretty cinnamon and swirl of steamed milk in your pumpkin spice latte. The foam traces an arc over your upper lip as you sip the drink, headphones in your ears, staring out the window of the warm cafe.

The line of people and buzz of lazy college students on a Sunday morning smear across your peripheral vision. You’d usually sit in a corner booth- as withdrawn as possible- but the cafe is packed. The only empty tables are in the middle of the lobby, mingling in the throng of people, a community table for half-empty cups. You grabbed the only empty booth, but it’s right next to the door. A chime rings every time a patron enters, making any hope for productivity completely futile.

Ding

There it is again, that irritating ring of yet another stressed our bio major on their way to get an americano with enough caffeine in it to fuel the next mission to space. You aren’t like them. You got a latte. As much as you hate the awful announcement of every idle individual, it snaps you out of your fogginess, lacing resentment into your blank document as your homework regains your attention. 

At least you start typing. Even if the lines of text are C work at best, anything above 60% on an assignment is a blessing. Your TA for organic chemistry is particularly critical of any assignments done for lab. Needless to say, this requires your best effort. You turn down your music, just a little, letting it blend enough with the outside world to create white noise, nothing but a dull hum. You sip your latte and chip away at this week’s workload. The crowd of people in the cafe never thins, even as morning rush teases at noon, if anything, all the late risers roll in to join the rest of the procrastinators in the cafe to do homework. 

“Excuse me?”

Your steady workflow is interrupted. When you sigh you hope it’s audible.

“Yeah?” You pull your right earbud out of your ear, not bothering to look up as you scroll through your work to look busy.

“Do you mind if I sit here? Sorry, it’s just the other tables…”

You pass a glance around the cafe. Every table and booth is occupied by at least two people. You nod in understanding, but he takes it as a cue to sit down on the bench across from you.

“I promise to not bother you.”

You force a smile over the screen of your laptop, fully looking at your guest for the first time. A bold black line traces its way over his nose. The color matches his hair, which hangs loose, spilling down his shoulders and curling around his neck. His eyes are a warm brown, crinkling at the corners as he smiles back at you.

“I get it. This place isn’t usually so busy.”

He hums in agreement, bending to pull his laptop from his bag. “Thank you, though. If you want another latte, I’m buying.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“I know.” He shrugs, opening his laptop and tapping on the keyboard. “But I want to.”

He doesn't say anything else, too engrossed in his own studies, and probably just as stressed by them as you. You sip your latte and put your earbud back in. The familiar rhythm of work, music, and coffee forms back into focus. 

The lab report becomes easy, the words flow onto the paper as you reference your notes and translate them into the mechanical syntax of academic jargon.

Music, coffee, and work. Your playlist is just random enough to not become boring. A few transitions shock you, something somber and melancholy followed by upbeat hip-hop, but for the most part, Spotify treats you well. It’s when you hear a song repeat that you realize it’s time to go home. You’re tired and the sun is threatening to point west, tipping past what could be called morning.

You shut your laptop quietly, not wanting to disturb the person across from you. He’s still quietly working. How he’s maintained focus for this long is a complete mystery. A work ethic you can only dream of. The laptop, lab notes, and other various clutter are shoved into your bag, hoping to slink back to your apartment for a caffeine-addled nap.

“Leaving?”

You pause. You could just ignore him, playing it off as his sparse question being drowned out in the general noise of the cafe, but now you’ve paused too long. 

“Yeah. I’ve been at it for a while. It’s time for a break.” You wouldn’t have said goodbye if he hadn’t stopped you.

“I still owe you coffee.” He tilts his head as he looks at you, frowning at your empty mug.

“No, really. It’s fine. If anything I should thank you for the company.” You don’t know why you’re declining. Another pumpkin spice latte would be nice for the drizzly walk home. “I haven’t eaten yet. My roommate will kill me if I don’t get some breakfast.”

He hums noncommittally. The screen of his laptop closes as he slides from the booth. “What do you want from the cafe?” 

He’s committed to repaying his favor, and you’re really in no rush to leave. Though, you don’t lack apprehension. The motley blend of people is dizzying, overwhelming you whenever you chance a glance at your surroundings.

“A blueberry muffin?”

“Sure. Anything else.” He places his forearms on the tabletop, leaning in to hear you better in the cacophony. 

“No thanks.”

He smells nice, like citrus and cigarette smoke. The scent is soft, almost nonexistent in the overwhelming smell of coffee that smothers the store. There’s something nostalgic about it that you can’t put your finger on, but whatever the burnt orange reminds you of is pleasant. You miss it as he stands fully and walks away. 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he tosses over his shoulder, so sure and relaxed. 

You watch him until his tall frame gets lost in the line to the register. You use the time to text your roommate, letting her know that you’ll be out longer than planned.

Your roommate, Shoko, keeps in touch with you about your plans. Since she’s a few years older than you, and a senior, Shoko likes to play the protective older sister: checking in on you when you leave the house, making sure you eat, and asking about your personal life or lack thereof. 

You and Shoko met the year prior in some stupid general ed class that neither of you had any interest in. Shoko had put off taking the class until junior year, and you decided to get it over with as a freshman. After bonding over a shared major, the friendship had stuck. And while you aren’t an unlikeable person, finding people you like enough to have long-term relationships with can be rare.

Shoko replies to your text almost immediately. She congratulates you on staying out past the few hours she suggested you study for, and requests that you grab her some food on the way home. You put your phone away after that, not wanting to appear rude as your companion returns.

He sets the muffin on the table in front of you. It’s in a clear, plastic to-go container. You can see the sweet, blue bruises that mottle the appearance of the pastry. Blueberry muffins have to be the ugliest dessert, but that doesn’t stop your mouth from watering at the sight of it.

“I wasn't sure if you wanted to stay and eat with me or not, so I figured I’d leave it up to you.” He sets a sleeved, paper coffee cup next to the muffin. “And here’s a latte for you too.”

“Thank you,” you say. You bring the cup up to your lips, smelling that it’s pumpkin spice before the coffee hits your tongue. “I’ll stay and eat here if you don’t have more homework.”

“Eh- I need to take a break and eat too, so homework can wait.” That’s when you notice that he’s purchased himself a pastry as well, something French and buttery. “So, stay?”

You pop open the lid of your plastic container. “Yeah.”

The first bite of your muffin is amazing, and the second is heavenly. You get lost in the easy silence. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were. Coffee and the stress of homework had kept your appetite away all morning. It returned tenfold when you took your first bite of food, reminding you of the morning essential you had been missing. The closest thing you’ve had for breakfast is the bite of oatmeal Shoko had made for herself before waving you out the door.

“I just realized, I never asked for your name.”

You glance across the table, taken aback by the break in silence. Caught off guard, you mumble the syllables disjointedly. You’re not sure if he hears you until he repeats them back, humming in satisfaction at the sounds.

“Pretty name,” he says, “it suits you.”

You flush, feeling your face heat. “And I never asked for yours.”

“Choso Kamo. English major.” And he extends his hand across the table.

“Genetics major.” 

Choso smiles when you shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” When his hand recedes, he tucks it beneath his chin. “I figured you were into stem. I noticed the intelligently stressed look on your face when I sat down.”

“Are you sure you’re not a psych major?”

His lips quirk upwards. A soft puff of air escaped his lips at your dry humor. “Almost, but I decided that I wanted the mind to remain a mystery to me.”

“So, why English instead?”

“I want to teach it, eventually. English is where I can impact kids the most.” 

“Teaching? That’s admirable.” You take the last few bites of your muffin, washing it down with coffee. “Why?”

“I want to be a better teacher than the ones I had growing up.” Choso tenses, voice shifting into something pensive. “I want to make a difference where it matters.”

“That’s sweet,” you say.

“Sweet?” Pink dusts his nose and cheeks, trying to obscure itself behind his tattoo.

“Yeah.” Something about Choso makes you feel at ease, enough so to be- at the very least- honest.

“Thanks. I like hearing that from you.” 

“Why?”

“You ask that a lot,” but he’s not accusatory, pointing it out to show you he noticed. “I get that a lot, not many actually mean it though.”

“What makes you think I mean it?”

Choso shrugs. “Would I still feel this nice if you didn’t?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out whenever I lie to you.”

“Hopefully we never find out then.”

Your lips press together. Lost for what to say, you glance out the window. “The rain’s finally let up, I should walk home while it’s clear.”

Choso nods, nibbling at his bottom lip. “Well, it was nice sitting with you. See you around?”

“I hope so.” A small smile creeps across your face. “Maybe we do this again sometime?”

“Yeah. Let me give you my number.” His hand extends across the table.

You feel your face warm in embarrassment as you fumble with the apps on your phone, searching for the seldom-used contacts. “Here,” when you finally manage to find it.

The exchange is quick enough not to make your exit awkward. You could take the time to think about what you’ll say when you first text him, but you’re too caught up in the idea of a next time.

Choso hands your phone back to you and waves lazily at you as you stand. You pick up your backpack and trash, checking that you didn’t forget anything before you leave. 

“Thanks, again, and good luck with the rest of your homework.” You feel like you’re repeating yourself too often, but it can’t be helped.

“Enjoy the rest of your rainy Sunday.” 

You wave your goodbyes as you open the door. The bell is just as annoying when it announces your departure, and the rain is still pooling on the sidewalk as you walk home, but the day feels lighter than before.

a/n- i'll post chapter 2 when i'm closer to having chapter 3 done

hope you had a really nice day: drank all your water, ate something delicious, had something funny happen, etc. luv y'all <3<3<3

[viking-raider]

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT > PART TWO

Summary-> It's a lovely first morning for Alexa and Henry, as they continue to learn about one another, and filming their new marriage gets serious.

Pairing-> Henry Cavill/OFC (Alexa)

Word Count-> 3k

Parts-> I

Warnings-> PG: Arranged Marriage, Language, Banter

Inspiration-> Nick and Vanessa Lachey’s Love is Blind on Netflix.

Author’s Note-> My apologies if any of the information on Alexa's T1 is incorrect. I'm willing to take advice. But there’s not many to do. I hope you enjoy! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

– The Honeymoon –

Stirring, Alexa no longer felt the engulfing warmth of Henry's body against her back and rolled onto hers. Looking to his side of the bed, she found it empty. Casting her eyes out of the mountain of blankets, she discovered her husband's silhouette against the sparkling sun, standing on the veranda and enjoying a cup of coffee. A sleepy smirk pulled across her lips, sitting up and brushing the loose strands of snow-white hair out of her face.

“Morning.” Henry said with a low rumble, coming to stand in the open door.

“Good morning.” Alexa greeted him back, stretching and sighing, feeling a bit jet-lagged from their flight, but nothing that would affect their day. “How long have you been up?” She asked, glancing at the clock on her nightstand, reading it was almost noon.

“An hour or two.” He answered, taking a deep swallow of his coffee. “I've just been enjoying the nice weather, until you woke up, so we could have breakfast.”

“You've been waiting for my lazy tush to get out of bed, to eat breakfast?” Alexa gasped, looking at him with surprise.

“I have.” Henry smirked, amused. “I don't mind. Besides, Riah called not long after I woke up, to tell me they'll be here at two, to start filming us.”

“Lovely.” She gulped, looking down at the blankets pooled around her waist, chewing on her lip for a moment. “Well, I'll get up and dress, while you order us breakfast!” She said, sliding to the edge of the bed.

“Do you want anything specific?” He asked, cocking his head at her, sensing an odd energy from her.

“Um, if they have oatmeal and whole-grain toast, definitely bananas, and a fruit smoothie, soy-milk.” She rambled off, heading into the closet for her clothing.

Henry smiled, amused at her appetite. “Will do, love.”

“Oh!” Alexa gasped, popping back out of the closet, stopping Henry on his way out of the bedroom. “No strawberries! I'm super allergic to them. Like, we'll spend our honeymoon in the hospital with anaphylactic shock.”

“Definitely no strawberries.” Henry shook his head, blue eyes big with concern.

Alexa nodded at him, then disappeared back into the closet. Henry came back a short time later, to find her sitting cross legged on the closet floor, a kit unfolded before her.

“What are you doing?” He asked, frowning down at her.

“I'm reapplying my insulin pump and glucose sensor.” She replied, frowning up at him, before recalling Henry hadn't been in the room nor awake, when she checked her levels. “I have Type One diabetes. I was diagnosed when I was eight years old, after getting sick. I'm sorry, I didn't tell you. I should have, but it's such a part of my life, wearing my pump and sensor, or pricking my finger and using my insulin pens, that sometimes I don't think to tell new people in my life I have it.” She explained to him, gulping.

“Unless it's someone that needs to know.” Alexa added, quietly.

“And your new husband isn't one of those people?” Henry asked, moving to squat in front of her, looking over everything she had laid out. “What if your sugars dropped and you got sick or something? I'd have no idea what was wrong with you. I'd have no clue how to take care of you. What dose to give you. What to tell the emergency doctors, when I rushed you to the hospital.”

The look of terrified worry on Henry's face formed a small, nauseous lump in Alexa's throat.

“Well, I can show you, if you want?” She said, smiling softly at him. “I just started this.” She told him, motioning to the equipment.

“I'd like that.” He replied, nodding and sitting down with her.

“All right.” Alexa grinned, wiggling in her spot. “So, I use this-” She held up an applicator between her fingers. “This is my Dexcom G-Six, glucose sensor and applicator, it pairs to my phone via Bluetooth.” She picked up her phone with her other hand, showing Henry the screen. “And an app I have on it. Through that, it checks my levels every five minutes. It tells me what my levels are, where they were and are heading.”

Henry nodded his head, listening intently. “All right. Where does it go?”

“It goes right here on my arm.” Alexa answered, using the corner of her phone to tap the back of her arm, before setting it down to pick up a single-use alcohol swab. “I need to clean the spot I'm going to put the sensor in, obviously.” She explained, ripping open the swab and cleaning the meaty area at the back of her arm. “While I do that, you want to do something for me?” She asked, cocking a brow at him.

“Of course, what do you need?” Henry asked, perking up.

“In that little pocket of my kit, there are over-patches—they'll help keep my sensor on my arm, they're different patterns.” She told him, with an amused smirk. “Why don't you pick one for me to put on it.”

Henry smirked back at her. “I can do that.” He nodded, pulling the five or six sealed patches out and filed through them, looking at the designs. “This one seems appropriate.” He decided, holding up a patch with cartoon-ish, blue, gray and black whales.

“Excellent choice!” Alexa agreed, picking up the applicator and pressing it to the sterilized area of her arm, hissing softly. “It's as simple as that really.” She said, setting the applicator aside, rubbing her finger around the edge of the initial adhesive. “Other than holding down on the button for a few seconds, to make sure the sensor and my phone pair.” She added, pressing down on it for a moment, then held her hand out for the over-patch, taking it from Henry and removing the clear film, to carefully seal it around the sensor.

“That one is done!” She giggled, wiggling her brows at him.

“I'm guessing you also have dietary needs.” Henry said, watching her fiddle with another device.

“I do have several things on my do not eat list, yes.” Alexa nodded, eyes on her task.

“Strawberries being one of them.”

“That's one of them, on the longer list.” She chuckled, looking up at him. “I'm generally on a low-carbs diet. A lot of sugary items and fried foods. Fruits, veggies, whole-grain, etc are great for me.” She listed off for him, watching the wheels of his brain turn through the blue of his eyes. “So, this is my insulin pump, Omnipod. It's a tubeless insulin pump that gives me three days worth of insulin, before I have to change it. My Dexcom and Omnipod talk to each other, so it knows how much insulin I need, without me having to do much of anything, besides making sure I'm eating and drinking right, and staying active.”

“That's great.” Henry nodded, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth as he watched her.

“So, this is a bit of a process.” She told him, opening a fresh Omnipod package. “I need to fill this syringe with about a hundred and thirty units of my insulin for the next three days.” She instructed him, opening the box with her Humalog insulin vial.

“You need to draw it straight out of the bottle?” He frowned, watching her use a alcohol swab and clean the top of the vial, before taking a syringe that was provided with her Omnipod out.

“Yes, unfortunately things like this aren't customizable.” Alexa answered, carefully twisting on the needle part of the syringe, drawing the plunger back, inserting the needle into the vial, then proceeding to draw the amount of insulin she needed into it. “Maybe, someday in the future.” She said, looking up at him, a small glitter of hope in her eyes. “Now that I have the insulin in the syringe, I just insert it here, into this little hole, and push it in, filling the pod for the next seventy-three hours and we wait for it to prime.”

“Where do you put this one?”

“I can put it on my arms, like my Dexcom, but on the opposite arm it's on. My thighs or my stomach. I usually prefer to have them both on the backs of my arms. But since we're on our honeymoon, I'm just going to pop it on my stomach.” She told him, tapping the screen of the Omnipod's control screen, recording where she was placing it, then stood up.

“It's easy standing.” She told Henry's expression, cleaning the spot on her stomach and securing the pod over it.

“Is that it?” Henry asked, as she sat down again, but leaning back slightly.

“No, now I need to let the Pod know it's in place, so it can insert the little tub that'll deliver my insulin.” She answered, tapping the control screen again, causing a couple soft clicks to fill the space between them, before a sharper one and her small jolt. “Now, it's done.” She smiled at him, taking an over-patch and securing it around the pump.

“That is quite the process.” He commented, shaking his head. “And you've been doing this since you were eight.”

“Mmhm.” She nodded, sighing softly. “Just second nature now. It's gotten easier over the years. Especially, with the new medications that have come out and the technology. So, who knows what science will come up with next!”

“A cure, hopefully.”

“That would be lovely.” Alexa nodded, a dreamy look on her face. “But I don't see that in my lifetime.”

“You never know.” Henry cooed, winking at her.

“True, I never thought I'd get married, and here I am.” She giggled, tucking away her equipment and zipping up her kit, before picking up the rubbish.

“What about your pens?” Henry asked, looking up at her.

“Oh, I don't need those, unless I'm not using my pump or my levels drop too low for it.” She answered, moving around him to exit the closet.

“But,” Henry climbed to his feet, following after her. “Why didn't you wear them yesterday, when we married?”

Alexa sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I didn't want them to be seen through my dress.” She confessed, biting her lip and looking at him over her shoulder. “So, I took them off and just monitored my levels though finger pricks and my pens.”

“And our flight home?”

“I was too tired to go through the process of putting them on.”

Henry sighed, cocking his head at her, a tender expression on his face. “I wish you had said something. I would have helped.”

“I know.” Alexa whispered, smiling at him. “I'm learning you're quite the attentive person, Henry Cavill.”

“I love taking care of those around me.” He replied, reaching out to touch her cheek with his index finger. “Especially my wife.”

“Mmm.” She blushed, nose wrinkling cutely.

The doorbell sounded, reminding them that breakfast had arrived for them. Henry opened the door for the room service butler, while Alexa headed out onto the veranda off the kitchen, making herself comfortable at the table there. Facing towards the glittering strip of beach and ocean, the call of seabirds as they swooped down for their own breakfasts.

“Isn't it lovely out?” Henry asked, coming out to join her.

“It really is.” She nodded, reclining in her seat and casting an eye over the trolley the butler was bringing out. “You picked quite the spread.” She commented, feeling her stomach rumble, looking over the plates of food.

Henry blushed slightly, taking a seat across from her. “Yeah, I get a bit of an appetite after jet-lag.” He admitted, nodding appreciatively at the butler, who stopped the trolley beside the table and excused himself. “That's a Mango and Banana smoothie from their menu, that I ordered for you, with your request of soy-milk.” Henry explained, motioning to the glass on the cart.

“I hope that's all right?”

“That's more than fine.” She assured him, grabbing her toast and oatmeal with a couple of banana slices in it. “They're both good for me.” She commented, picking up the cool and sweaty glass, taking a sip of the soy-milk smoothie and hummed with approval. “I don't remember the last time I had a mango, but that is delicious!” She smiled, setting the glass beside her bowl, then fixed her arctic-blue eyes on Henry.

“So, Husband, what do you want to do today?” She asked, picking up her spoon to dig into her oatmeal.

“I'm not sure.” Henry hummed, pausing in eating his fork full of his ham and cheese omelet. “We could just go about and check out the island.” He suggested, taking the bite and chewing, before sitting back for a moment. “You mentioned yesterday there's a lot of good walking trails and sites to see. Like, waterfalls.”

“Yeah.” Alexa nodded, mulling it over, nursing her smoothie. “We will have the film crew following us around, like lost puppies as well.” She reminded him, biting the corner of her lip. “Give us the moment to get used to them practically stalking us.”

Henry heaved a sigh, picking up the coffee pot and poured himself a fresh cup. “That's also true.” He replied, dumping a single sugar into it. “I'm used to a camera only following me around in a studio or a specific location. Not all day, every day. For every moment of my life.”

“For any entire year of our life.” She added, cocking a brow at him.

“Mmhm.” He nodded, sipping his steaming coffee. “Let's find a trail.” He said, digging his phone out of his pocket and pulling up Google.

Alexa slid her chair over closer to Henry and cocked her head over his shoulder to see his screen, watching him scroll through, best hiking trails in Tamarindo. “Oh, that one has a waterfall and a hot spring we could swim in.” She commented, pointing one of them out. “Be a good place to relax for a short bit, before we head back.” She suggested, looking up at Henry.

“I mean, I have to make sure my husband's old bones can make it back.” She teased, an impish smirk curling up the corners of her mouth as her blue eyes sparkled.

Looking at her, Henry pressed his lips together, his eyes both roguish and cool. “Ha-ha.” He replied, carefully knocking her with his shoulder, but grinned as Alexa giggled at him, resting her chin on his shoulder and hugging her arms around his torso.

Henry stared into her eyes, feeling his throat tighten with her body pressed against his, her smiling face close to his. Licking his lips, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, cutting off her giggle with soft and surprised gasp. Alexa's eyes flared, staring into Henry's, that were still open and looking at her, measuring her reaction to him kissing her. But she had done the same thing as she did on the altar the day before. Alexa returned his kiss, her hand twisting up the fabric at the back of his tank top and tugging him closer to her; her eyes fluttering shut.

Sighing softly, Henry's hand lifted to grip the back of Alexa's neck, pulling her against his body and holding her there as they deepened the kiss, lips moving slow and gentle. But it didn't last, as Henry got a creeping feeling of being watched and cracked an eye open, finding Riah stepping out onto the veranda with them, a broad grin on her face.

“The doorbell broken?” He asked, moving away from Alexa, feeling a protective bubble form in the pit of his stomach, resting a hand on her back, seeing Alexa's face flush bright red, hiding away from them, until she got control of herself.

“No.” Riah answered, unperturbed. “I used it. I just guess the two of you were too distracted to hear it, so I let myself in.” She explained, holding up a spare key to their villa. “Nice to see the two of you are getting comfortable with one another.”

“You can say that.” Alexa rasped, turning back towards the conversation, licking her lips. “So,” She looked down at her watch, then cocked her brow at the other woman. “You're early.”

“Yeah, we figured we'd come over and start setting up. Go over a few things.” Riah told her, unbothered as the cameraman from yesterday appeared from behind her. “This is Jesse, he'll be the cameraman following you around for a majority of your year together, unless something should come up.” She explained to Alexa and Henry, motioning to Jesse, who gave them a small wave and nod. “A large portion of the time, it'll just be Jesse filming you. Wherever you go, he'll be with you. Until you get home, that is.”

“Then, we get privacy, I hope.” Alexa commented, under her breath, picking up her smoothie to finish off what was left.

“Not completely.” Riah retorted, arching a brow at her. “We'll have at least one camera in all the rooms, but the bathroom, for obvious reasons. They'll roll until a certain point, then will be shut off and the footage will be edited for your privacy and the show's content.”

Henry glanced over at Alexa, hearing her quiet groan. “I suppose, it's what we signed up for.” He said, trying to sound confident.

“It's exactly what you both signed up for.” Riah reminded them, looking between him and Alexa. “So, what are the two of you doing today?” She asked, folding her arms. “Other than sucking face.” She added with a quip.

“We decided,” Henry replied, clearing his throat. “to go on a hike. There's a nice trail with a waterfall and hot spring we want to check out and enjoy.”

“Marvelous.” Riah grinned, excited to film the two of them on an outing. “Jesse will get set up and the two of you can just go about as if he's not even here.”

“Right.” Alexa nodded, staring into the bottom of her glass, before looking up at Henry, finding him gazing at her.