#in a good way mostly but it isn’t stopping me from being nervous | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

finelinefae · 23 days ago

Text

my darling

synopsis: a love triangle

word count: 10.8k

contains: angst angst angst, love triangle, mfm, best friends to lovers, boarding school, violence, unrequited love,

a/n: i wrote this for wattpad during the My Policeman era. I wanted to post it here after re-reading it. I remember this being one of the first pieces of fanfic i felt super proud of !! warning it is pretty sad

. . .

Then — 1996

Dear Diary,

Today we moved into our new home in Halton. It’s small, quaint, and quiet—very quiet. The kind of place where everyone seems set in their routines, the same patterns repeating every day. I already miss London. Mum says this will be good for us, though. Good to get away from the drama. Good to get away from Dad.

The house isn’t as big as our old one. I have to share a room with Delilah now, but it’s fine—I’ll be off to boarding school by the end of the summer. Mum says I’ll enjoy it since she went to the same school at my age, but I think she’s just trying to make me feel better. Who actually enjoys living at school?

It’s a three-hour drive from Halton, which feels like a world away. I’m nervous, excited, sad, and happy all at once. The feelings are so overwhelming they all blur together into something I can only describe as... heavy. Like my life is a snow globe someone’s just shaken up, glitter falling everywhere. It looks magical at first, but the reality is you’re stuck cleaning it up for weeks, finding it in the oddest places long after.

I miss my dog. I never got to say goodbye.

Dad cried when we left. I’ve never seen him cry before. He told me it wasn’t goodbye, just a "see you later." Mum always says Dad’s a good liar, but I don’t think he was lying this time. Maybe it was the tears—they don’t suit him.

Dear Diary,

Today I moved into my dorm at Southend Park School.

Mum was annoyed we had to wake up before seven to pack the car and drive me down, even though this was all her idea. She’s probably just tired—or maybe something else. I have a suspicion she’s met someone. I’m not sure how she moved on from Dad so quickly. Did she ever really love him?

My dorm has six girls, including me. I’ve mostly been talking to Ellis, who’s in the room next door. She’s fourteen, older than the rest of us, but only because her birthday is the 1st of September. Today’s the third, so her advantage is technical, but she likes to remind us.

Being alone here scares me, but it’s nothing new. Delilah always had loads of friends, and Dad was always working. Mum was usually out socializing, too.

Mum cried as we finished unpacking, promising she’d pick me up for half-term or that I could come home anytime. But I don’t want to go home. I hate it there.

Tomorrow is a full day of inductions, and I’m worried about making friends. Southend Park is a mixed school, and boys make me nervous. I’d rather have no friends at all than feel like I have to pretend to be someone I’m not.

I still feel like I’m picking up glitter from months ago. I wonder when it will finally stop.

Dear Diary,

I made two friends. You’ll never guess—they’re boys!

Their names are Harry and Dylan. They’re both thirteen, like me, but they feel older somehow. They even live in the same dorm and invited me over this weekend.

We met during lunch in the courtyard. I was sitting alone when Dylan walked up first, chatting easily and cracking jokes. Harry followed behind, much quieter. Dylan has blond hair and a small scar on his eyebrow from climbing trees back in Morston. Harry’s hair is thick and curly—I wanted to touch it but stopped myself because, well, that would’ve been weird.

Harry didn’t say much at first, though I noticed him glancing at me. When I met his gaze, he blushed and looked down at his extra-polished school shoes.

We didn’t talk much again until the end of the day, on the way back to the dorms. That’s when we compared timetables and realized we share four classes, including English Literature. It’s just Harry and me in that one, though.

I never thought I’d be friends with boys, but I like it. It feels different from being friends with girls—less pressure to act outgoing or girly. I hope we stay friends. I like them both a lot.

. . .

Then — 2000

“Hey, Harry,” Y/N called, running across the field toward the headmaster’s office where Harry stood, focused on his Nokia flip phone.

Harry glanced up, his expression softening when he saw her. He tucked the phone into his pocket and waved her over. Despite the end-of-day chaos, both were still dressed in their school uniforms. “Hey, baby.” He greeted her with a quick kiss, pulling her closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. He loved how perfectly she fit against him, as though they were made for each other.

“What’s going on? Aren’t we meeting Dylan to go to Ellis’ dorm?” Y/N asked, frowning slightly as she looked around for their other best friend.

Harry smirked, shaking his head. “We are, but Dylan got caught passing notes to Casey Becker in geometry. He’s stuck with thirty minutes in the headmaster’s office to make amends.”

Y/N chuckled, her laugh warm and familiar. “Again? He’s going to get himself expelled if he’s not careful.” She slid her hands under Harry’s blazer, warming them against his torso.

Harry brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting his thumb linger on her cheekbone. “How was your day?” he murmured, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.

“It was fine,” Y/N replied. “I scored three points in netball, and Tessa Riley gave me daggers in the changing room.” She giggled, leaning into him.

Harry smiled, pride gleaming in his eyes. “That’s m’girl.” He bent down and kissed her forehead gently.

“Oh, please, don’t make me sick,” a familiar voice drawled, breaking the moment.

“Hi, Dylan.” Y/N turned to see him strolling down the stone steps, his blazer slung over his shoulder and a cigarette dangling between his fingers. She leaned back against Harry, crossing her arms.

“Hello, my darling Y/N,” Dylan teased, his tone playful as he lit the cigarette with practiced ease.

“Seriously, Dylan?” Harry said, narrowing his eyes. “Do you really need another detention?”

“Don’t you smoke, Styles?” Dylan shot back, grinning. “Besides, Mary would love to see me again after our chat earlier. She’s got a soft spot for me.” He smirked, wiping his thumb across the corner of his mouth.

Y/N rolled her eyes, stepping away from Harry’s warmth. She was long used to Dylan’s antics—four and a half years of friendship had left little room for surprises.

The three of them had been inseparable since their first days at Southend Park Boarding School. Despite their differences in personality, they were like a family unit, supporting one another through the highs and lows of adolescence.

Dylan, the loudest of the trio, was notorious for his sharp wit and knack for trouble. Teachers despaired over his behavior, but students were drawn to his charm—especially the girls, who fell for his rebellious streak and the ever-present cigarette.

Harry, by contrast, was the golden boy: smart, polite, and beloved by staff. He balanced his role as student ambassador with captaining the football team, a position that made him one of the most popular boys in school. Dylan teasingly called him a “teacher’s pet,” but Harry wore the label without shame.

Y/N was the quietest of the three, rarely seeking the spotlight. She volunteered in the school library every Tuesday and spent her free time with her dorm mates. Still, Harry and Dylan were fiercely protective of her, and she often marveled at how lucky she was to have them.

The trio walked out of the school gates toward the housing blocks, their shadows stretching long in the late afternoon sun. Harry carried Y/N’s backpack on one shoulder, his free hand clasping hers. Dylan trailed behind, typing on his phone with an unlit cigarette between his teeth.

“Ellis doesn’t want you bringing anything to the party this time, Dylan,” Y/N warned, glancing over her shoulder. “You know what happened last time. If you pull that again, you’re getting kicked out of school.”

“My darling Y/N,” Dylan began with exaggerated sincerity, pausing for effect, “only for you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile.

When they reached her dorm, Y/N kissed Harry on the cheek and took her bag from his shoulder. “I’ll see you both later?” she asked, her eyes bright.

Dylan saluted her without looking up from his phone, while Harry smiled warmly. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, Harry,” she replied before disappearing inside.

Harry and Dylan walked in silence toward their dorm. The tension was palpable, Dylan unusually quiet as Harry’s mind churned with unspoken thoughts.

“We’re going to have to tell her at some point,” Dylan murmured, his voice low as the setting sun bathed the path in a golden glow.

Harry’s heart tightened. “No, we don’t.”

“Harry—”

“Shut up, Dylan. Nothing happened.” Harry’s voice was sharp, cutting Dylan off before he could continue.

They stopped, staring at each other, the air between them heavy. Harry’s frustration burned in his eyes, while Dylan’s sadness hung like a weight on his shoulders.

“I love her,” Harry finally said, his voice trembling. “I’ll never love anyone else as much as I love Y/N.”

Without another word, he turned and stormed into their dormitory, leaving Dylan alone on the pavement. Dylan exhaled shakily, the ache in his chest unbearable.

. . .

Then — 1998

Dear Diary,

It’s been a month since my fifteenth birthday, and Harry finally asked me out on a date. It feels like a dream, the kind where everything is so perfect you fear waking up to find it never happened.

To be honest, I think I’m already in love with him. He’s always been so kind to me, much more than Dylan. Harry carries my bag to class when I have netball, and sometimes, during English Literature, I catch him staring at me. There’s something about the way his gaze lingers that makes me feel seen.

In art class, he taught me how to use watercolors for the first time, his thumb brushing against mine as he guided me. Little moments like that remind me how much I care for him—so much that the thought of being without him feels unbearable. Is that dramatic? Probably. But I can’t help it if it’s true.

Even when I’m talking to Ellis during lunch or before bed, my mind wanders back to Harry—his smile, his eyes, the way he laughs at my jokes even when they aren’t funny, and how he hugs me differently from everyone else.

It feels strange to be fifteen and falling so deeply. What do I know about love at this age? How much further can I fall?

I think I’m going to love him forever. I hope he loves me forever too.

Dear Diary,

Harry kissed me today. My first kiss—with the boy I love most in the entire world.

I knew it was going to happen. We’d just finished dinner in the dining hall when he asked if I wanted to take a walk in the gardens. Dylan wanted to come along, but Harry shook his head, saying he wanted it to be just the two of us.

I felt a twinge of guilt when I looked back and saw Dylan standing there, his expression heavy as he watched us leave. He kept staring at Harry, even as we walked past the window overlooking the gardens.

Harry brought me to the tulips because he knows they’re my favorite. He said my braid looked pretty today, and that’s when I knew—I truly, completely loved him. It was the worst braid I’ve ever done, but he still thought it was beautiful.

We sat on a swinging bench, listening to birds returning to their nests. When he said my name, it sounded magical, like it had been made for his lips alone. I turned to look at him, and that’s when he leaned in and kissed me.

It felt like a scene from a movie.

No one ever tells you what it’s like to kiss someone for the first time. The way their breath mingles with yours, the world fading away as you close your eyes and step into a place so tender it consumes you. It makes you wonder if you’ve ever been truly loved before.

We only stopped because we heard a rustling in the bushes. We looked around but didn’t find anything, so Harry walked me back to my dorm. He kissed me again outside the door, and I floated through the rest of the night, humming to myself as I got ready for bed.

But when I think back to that moment, I could swear I saw a tuft of blond hair sticking out from behind a bush.

. . .

Now — 2000

Y/N sat cross-legged in front of the mirror on Ellis’ floor, carefully applying mascara as Fiona Apple played softly in the background. Ellis sat nearby, painting her nails a deep red.

“I’m just saying,” Ellis began, waving the brush for emphasis, “you and Harry have been dating for two years, and you haven’t done the deed yet?”

Y/N flushed at the mention of sex, shifting uncomfortably. She hated talking about it, even with Harry. Maybe it was because she didn’t know much about it or because she’d never had a safe space to ask questions, but every time the topic came up—whether in conversation or during truth or dare—she wanted to run for cover.

“We’re waiting for the right time,” Y/N said evenly, her voice robotic as she repeated the well-rehearsed answer.

“The right time?” Ellis scoffed. “I’ve never seen a couple more in love—it’s nauseating.”

Y/N hesitated, her mind drifting to moments when she’d wanted to take things further with Harry. But he always stopped before it went too far. Sometimes it made her feel like she wasn’t enough—pretty enough, desirable enough—but then he’d kiss her softly and remind her how beautiful she was, stroking her cheek as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We’ve done... things, but not that.”

“Is Harry religious or something?” Ellis asked, narrowing her eyes.

“No, I don’t think so,” Y/N replied with a frown. “He’s never mentioned it.”

“Maybe he’s waiting until marriage,” Ellis mused.

The thought of marrying Harry made Y/N’s heart swell. She’d dreamed of it ever since their first kiss in the gardens—walking down the aisle in a white dress, Harry waiting for her at the end, tears in his eyes. Maybe they’d both cry.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Y/N said, her voice soft but certain. “I love him enough to wait as long as he needs me to.”

Ellis groaned, grabbing a bottle of vodka from her bedside table. “You can’t say stuff like that when I haven’t had a single drink.” She poured herself a shot and downed it in one go. “Okay, continue.”

Y/N laughed and turned back to her reflection, humming Queen’s Love of My Life as her thoughts drifted back to Harry.

. . .

Then — 1998

Dear Harry,

Today we went to the beach—the three of us. Me, you, and Y/N. I know in most situations it’s you, Y/N, then me, but in these letters, it will always be me and you.

We’d been planning this trip for weeks. It’s a three-hour drive to the coast from school, and Y/N had been complaining about the journey the entire time. I didn’t mind. Is it wrong of me to want to sit next to you on a bus full of people not one of them knowing who we are for three whole hours? Our knees touching for three whole hours? Sand on your feet and your hair salty from the sea, inhaling your scent and wanting your hand to touch my thigh for three whole hours?

When we got there, the morning was overcast, but by the time we hit the sand, the sun broke through the clouds. It was perfect. The light caught your skin, making it glisten, and your eyes shone with that impossible sea-glass green. I wanted to look into them forever, but you were too busy looking at Y/N.

I tried to catch your attention—touching your shoulder as I passed by, reaching for the beach bag at the same time as you, brushing my fingers against yours. But it didn’t matter. You only had eyes for her, and I only had eyes for you.

When you kissed her in the gardens, a part of me died. I had been pining for you for so long, silently hoping you’d see me, but it was always her. I felt stupid, running miles afterward, the wind howling in my ears: You fool, you idiot, how could he ever love you?

I didn’t want to feel this way, Harry. I tried to bury it, to pretend it wasn’t real, but when I met you, everything I’d hidden about myself unraveled.

The day wasn’t without its drama. Y/N, distracted, stepped into the road thinking the approaching van was the bus. You moved so fast, grabbing her and pulling her back before the van could hit her. I watched the terror flash across your face, the way you held her afterward as she cried. You kissed her forehead, comforted her, showed her the kind of love I’d only ever dreamed of.

And I hated her for it.

I feel terrible admitting this because I do love Y/N. I truly do. But most days, I hate her, and only because she has you.

When we finally got to the beach, the three of us ran toward the waves, shedding our clothes as we went, laughing like we were carefree children. For a moment, we were. We left our troubles behind in the sand.

You swung Y/N over your shoulder as you splashed into the water, and I couldn’t help but admire the way your muscles flexed. You were a work of art, Harry, something meant to be admired in a gallery. And I was nothing more than an observer, longing for what I could never have.

Later, Y/N went to get ice cream. Before she left, she asked for your order, and I already knew what you’d say—mint chocolate chip. The way she looked surprised made me feel smug for a second, but that quickly disappeared when she said it was her favorite too.

While she was gone, I felt a cramp in my shoulder. “Let me,” you murmured, and before I could answer, your fingertips ghosted over my shoulder, pressing into the tight muscle.

I couldn’t breathe, Harry. You were so close, your breath warm against my neck. For a split second, I thought if I just turned my head, I could kiss you.

I’ll never forget that moment for as long as I live. Even if you do.

. . .

Now — 2000

Dylan and Harry were in their dorm room, preparing for the party. Harry stood in front of the mirror, anxiously gelling his hair back.

“I think I’m going to do it,” Harry said suddenly, turning to face Dylan. “I’m going to go all the way with Y/N.”

Dylan froze, his heart sinking. He lit a cigarette, trying to appear nonchalant as he perched on the windowsill. “Really? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” His voice betrayed him, tinged with irritation and jealousy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m just saying, are you sure it’s the right time to sleep with her? After... what happened?”

Harry’s expression darkened. “Nothing happened. It was a mistake.”

“You keep saying that,” Dylan said, standing now, his voice rising. “Like you’re trying to gaslight me into thinking I imagined it. But I’ve imagined kissing you enough times to know what’s real and what’s not.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching. “I was drunk, and you took advantage of me.”

The words hit Dylan like a slap, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Don’t try that with me, Harry. It might work in your petty arguments with Y/N, but it won’t work on me. You’re the one twisting the truth to fit your narrative.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Harry snapped. “I only care about Y/N. And if you can’t handle that, maybe you need to step away—from both of us.”

“Step away?” Dylan said incredulously, his voice breaking. “You want me to walk away from the only two people who’ve ever cared about me? You want me to walk away from you?”

Harry hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. “You know how I feel about Y/N. I love her. I’m in love with her. Even if I felt something for you, it would never compare.”

“You’re lying,” Dylan whispered, his eyes glassy. “If you loved her so much, you wouldn’t have kissed me in the first place.”

“You don’t know anything!” Harry exploded, his voice shaking with fury. “Do you know what would happen if someone found out? What it would do to Y/N? To us? I felt nothing! It was a mistake!”

“Harry—”

“No,” Harry cut him off. “Whatever feelings you have, whatever intentions, you need to get over them.”

“That’s not as easy as you think—”

“You have to.” Harry’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. Dylan stared at him, shattered, as Harry turned and stormed out.

He left Dylan standing there, broken, feeling like Harry had taken his very soul with him.

. . .

Then — 1999

Dear Harry,

We’ve been assigned as partners in media class, and now we have to make a music video. Naturally, you asked Y/N if she’d star in it. You told her she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen and that she’d be perfect for it. She blushed, of course, and said yes. Then you kissed her—so long and so deeply that I had to look away.

I imagined myself in her place, wondering what it would be like to kiss you in public, to have the world see how much I adored you. If it were allowed, I don’t think I’d ever stop kissing you.

Today, we filmed the music video. You wanted it to feel like a coming-of-age story. I’d wanted something more abstract, but I agreed to your ideas, nodding eagerly at every suggestion, whether it was brilliant or terrible.

We filmed in the gardens—my least favorite place in the entire school. That’s where you kissed Y/N for the first time, and if I could erase that night from my memory, I would in a heartbeat.

The sun was shining as you whispered into Y/N’s ear while I set up the camera. I tried to block out the sound of your laughter, the sight of her hand on your shoulder.

“Are we ready?” I called, my voice louder than I intended. You straightened up immediately.

“Dylan, why don’t you be in the video with me?” Y/N smiled warmly. She had that rare ability to make everyone feel seen, like she was radiating sunshine. It was impossible not to smile back.

“My darling, you know I’m not nearly as perfect as you,” I teased, watching her blush.

I don’t even remember when I started calling her “my darling.” The first time, I remember catching the flash of jealousy in your eyes. I liked that. I liked seeing you react to me, even if it wasn’t in the way I wanted. You’re used to it now, but sometimes, when I say it, I still see a flicker of something in your gaze.

The music video took all day to shoot. Every time Y/N nailed a scene, you rewarded her with a kiss. I worked hard too, Harry. Shouldn’t I have been rewarded in some way?

When Y/N left for her library shift that evening, it was just the two of us. You wanted to capture the soft glow of the sunset, so we stayed behind to get more footage.

“My mother wants me to go into politics,” you said as we sat cross-legged on the grass, the camera between us. “But I’d love to do this—be a director. I’ve always wanted to be an artist of some kind. It’s a silly dream, but I think about it all the time.”

I could imagine it. You had a way of leading people, commanding attention without being arrogant. You cared so deeply—for the art, for the people—that it would probably destroy you someday.

“It’s not silly,” I said. “It’s never silly to dream. My God, Harry, we only live once. Might as well do everything we can to feel something in the little time we have.”

You looked at me then, really looked at me. For the first time, I thought you might be feeling a fraction of what I felt every day. “I’ve never told anyone that before. Not even Y/N knows.”

“It’ll be our secret,” I whispered. And for a moment, I could’ve sworn you glanced at my lips.

Then, just as quickly, you diverted the topic. Grabbing the camera, you aimed it at me lying in the grass. “Looks like Y/N’s not the only model anymore,” you teased.

I tried to act indifferent, but I would’ve stayed there all night if it meant seeing you laugh like that.

It makes me wonder, Harry—do you know how much power you have over your friends? Do you know that you have two people who worship the ground you walk on? How does it feel to be desired? How does it feel to have a choice in who you love?

. . .

Now — 2000

“You’re here!” Y/N beamed, running into Harry’s arms and wrapping her hands around his neck.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, kissing her temple before setting her down.

The party was already in full swing. Students from across campus had crammed into Ellis’ dorm, the air thick with music, laughter, and the faint smell of alcohol.

“Hi, Dylan,” Y/N greeted, pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re dressed pretty smart. Planning on impressing anyone tonight?”

“Only you, darling,” Dylan replied, forcing a wink and a smirk despite the ache in his chest. Harry’s words from earlier still rang in his ears, but he pushed them aside.

Harry’s eyes darted to the cup in Y/N’s hand. “Have you been drinking?” he asked, his tone light but concerned.

“It’s water,” she whispered with a smile. Harry relaxed. She wasn’t much of a drinker, and he knew that.

“You look so pretty,” he said, marvelling at her dress. It was the one she wore for special occasions—one he had once told her was his favourite. A pang of guilt pricked at his heart as she looked back at him, her doe eyes filled with love.

“Come dance with me!” she said, pulling him toward the living room. “Both of you! My boys!”

Harry and Dylan followed her to the dance floor. The song Love My Way blared through the speakers, and Y/N moved between them, carefree and radiant.

At first, Harry danced with her, his focus entirely on Y/N. But then his gaze shifted to Dylan, who was swaying along with the music. Something unspoken passed between them, an invisible thread pulling them closer.

Harry laughed when Dylan moved towards him and for a moment they had forgotten everything around them. Dylan was just Dylan and Harry was just Harry, two boys who felt something they weren’t allowed to feel in the eyes of everyone else.

Harry was so close, their faces almost touching and for a moment Dylan thought they might kiss. But the blissful moment was broken as Harry stepped away, shaking his head, “N-No.” He whispered, “No, No, No.” He shook his head, his eyes frantic in search of Y/N.

“O-Oh, Harry,” Y/N yelped as he grabbed hold of her hand and lead her out of Ellis’ dorm and over to her own, three doors down from where the party was happening.

“What are you doing? Are you okay?” She cups his face in her hands and he exhales, trying to regain composure. This was the girl he loved, the only girl he could ever love and being in her hands felt like home. Didn’t it?

“Y-Y/N, I-I think I’m ready.” He presses his forehead against hers, kissing her bottom lip. “I’m ready.”

Her lips part in shock. She hadn’t been expecting this tonight and she wasn’t sure where Harry’s sudden desperation was coming from. He kissed down her neck as she tried to speak to him, “H-Harry, a-are you sure?” He nodded, his mouth leaving open mouthed kisses on her shoulder.

“I love you Y/N.” He looked into her eyes and she saw the sincerity behind them but also a hint of something else that she couldn’t quite place.

He started to peel her clothing off, his fingertips gently brushing against her soft skin. She tried to steady her breathing but her chest caved in and out as the oxygen in the room seemed to be escaping as he moved down her body. “Harry,” She whispered and he could hear the desperation in her voice. She reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers together.

Y/N was stripped down to her bra and underwear. This was the most skin she had revealed to anybody but she trusted Harry with everything in her, he was her best friend. He blew warm air over the thin material of her bra and her nipples hardened, an overwhelming sense of desire and lust flooding her insides. It was so new and overwhelming, her hands shaking as she ran her fingers through his hair and tugged on the roots.

“Baby,” He whispered, his hands cupping her thighs as he pressed kisses down her body.

“Harry, wait.” She murmured, his eyes looking up from where he was laying between her legs, “You’re still dressed.” She sat up and tugged on the hem of his sweater.

He laughed softly, as she struggled to pull the sweater over his head. She marvelled at the sound and kissed the tip of his nose. He pulled her onto his lap and she grinded her hips against his, “God look at you.” He whispered. “Don’t leave me Y/N. You can never leave me.”

“I’m never going to.” She said it like it was a promise.

His hands hooked the straps of her bra and he gently pulled them down, her breath hitching as the pad of his thumb brushed against the side of her breast. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in tightly, his face burying into the crook of her neck as he inhaled her.

This was going to be perfect, she thought, nothing could go wrong.

She grinded her hips against him again, a groan eliciting from his lip and a name escaping past the lips he had kissed her with so many times.

“Dylan.” Y/N froze. Her blood ran cold, and she pulled away as though Harry’s touch burned her.

“What did you say?” She pulled away, suddenly being naked in front of him didn’t feel right, being in a space alone with him didn’t feel right, everything she had ever felt for him before this moment didn’t feel right.

“Y/N,” He reached for her but she slipped away from him, slipped out of his touch, a touch she begged for just moments ago.

Harry’s heart no longer existed, wherever it was it had abandoned him and left him here in this terrible moment to fend for himself. He felt his eyes well up with tears as he watched Y/N try to pick up her discarded clothes. This wasn’t how it was meant to be, she was suppose to be picking up his clothes after a night making love to each other.

“Y-You said his name.” Y/N whimpered, she was panicking and Harry could do nothing but watch.

“Baby I-”

“NO.” She spat, “You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.”

Harry watched as she turned around and clutched at her head, her knees buckling as she fell to the ground. She sobbed and sobbed, his hear wrenching at the sound of it. He had never heard a sound so painful in his life and he wanted to die in this very moment.

“No, No, No, No.” She sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

“Y/N please just let me explain.” Harry tried, crouching down in front of her and trying to place a hand on her now clothed shoulder.

“NO.” She pushed him away and leaped back, her back hitting the wall.

Harry was broken. He was truly broken. This was something well out of his reach in fixing and nothing he could do or say could make up for the fact that he had hurt the two people he loved and cherished the most in this world, in the span of one night.

“Get out of my room!” She began to scream, “Get out of here!”

A knock at the door shattered the silence.

“Hey, you guys in there?” Dylan’s voice called from the hallway.

Before Harry could respond, Y/N lunged for the door, anger blazing in her eyes.

“Get out of my room!” she screamed, her voice raw with betrayal.

Harry caught her before she reached Dylan, her fists pounding against his chest. “I’m broken,” she whimpered, her strength fading. “You broke me.”

And for the first time, Harry knew what it felt like to be utterly powerless.

. . .

Then — 2000

Dear Diary,

You know those secrets so big they feel like they could swallow you whole? The kind you promise never to tell a soul for as long as you live? At first, they consume you, taking over every thought and breath. But over time, they settle into the corners of your mind, a quiet part of you that only stirs when something triggers it.

Well, today I made one of those secrets.

It was a Tuesday, the day I volunteer in the library after school. There’s something peaceful about wandering the empty halls when no one else is around—a stark contrast to the chaos between periods. Mrs. Ableton asked me to deliver a stack of books to the English Literature cupboard. Our copies of The Catcher in the Rye were practically falling apart, so we’d ordered replacements.

As I walked through the hall, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye near the classroom where Harry and I have English together. Curious, I paused, almost dropping the books in my hands.

Harry was leaning against a desk, and Dylan stood in front of him. At first, I thought nothing of it and smiled, reaching for the door handle to make myself known. But then Dylan stepped closer, touched Harry’s hand, and kissed him.

I froze.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The same lips that had kissed mine were now kissing the lips of my best friend.

I wanted to cry, but I was too shocked to do anything but stand there, watching. A part of me hoped I was trapped in a nightmare—that I’d wake up, call Harry, and laugh about how silly it all was. But when Dylan pulled back, Harry grabbed his arm and kissed him again.

That time, I couldn’t watch.

I backed away, the tears finally falling. My mind raced as I searched for somewhere—anywhere—I could cry louder, scream even, because this wasn’t something I could cry about quietly.

Harry was mine. But he was also Dylan’s.

By the time I went to bed, I’d convinced myself I would confront them. I’d tell them I saw what happened and ask if we could move on, pretend it never happened. But as the hours stretched on, I realized I didn’t want to speak about it. Talking about it would mean reliving it, over and over.

I didn’t want to remember.

I just wanted Harry.

So, this is a secret I’ll take to my grave. I’ll never tell a soul I watched Harry kiss Dylan in a way he never kissed me.

Even if it breaks me.

. . .

Now — 2000

“What happened?” Dylan asked. They were back in his dorm now, Harry pacing the room like a caged animal.

“She knows,” Harry muttered, his fingers pulling at his hair—a habit whenever he was upset. “She knows about us, what we did.”

Dylan collapsed onto the bed, his face pale. “How?”

Harry stopped and turned to him, shame written all over his face. “I said your name.”

Dylan’s shoulders sagged, and he buried his face in his hands. Images of Y/N, broken and sobbing on her bedroom floor, flashed through his mind. She had begged them to fix her, but they were the ones who broke her.

“It’s fine,” Harry rambled, his voice shaking. “I-I’ll give her some time, however long she needs. Then I’ll explain. I’ll explain it was a misunderstanding.”

“Harry,” Dylan said gently, standing to take Harry’s hands in his own. “I don’t think there’s enough time in the world for Y/N to get over this.”

Harry’s breath hitched, and a sob escaped him as he crumpled into Dylan’s arms. Dylan ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, resting his cheek against Harry’s head. “It’s okay, love,” he whispered. “Everything will be alright.”

“I hurt her so bad, Dylan,” Harry cried. “I love her, and I hurt her.”

“She was always going to find out,” Dylan said softly, the truth cutting deeper than any lie.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” Harry whispered.

Dylan sighed. “Why do you always talk about how things are meant to be? You act like your life was mapped out before you left the womb. Was it ‘meant to be’ that the three of us became inseparable? That you fell in love with both of us because you care so deeply? That I fell in love with you because you see art in everything? None of this was ‘meant to be,’ Harry. It just happened. And now we deal with it.”

Harry pulled back, tears streaking his face. “You still love me? Even after I pushed you away?”

Dylan smiled sadly, wiping a tear from Harry’s cheek. “I love you despite everything.”

Harry’s lips ghosted over Dylan’s, and for a moment, it felt like all their pain had been lifted. “Dylan,” Harry whispered, his voice trembling as he said the name again and again, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You can say my name as much as you want, love,” Dylan murmured. “I’ll always be here.”

. . .

Three weeks passed and the friends were no longer talking to each other, instead they acted as though they didn’t know each other as they passed each other in the hallway.

Harry had to try and not flinch when he saw Y/N scurry pass him, her eyes red and bloodshot as Ellis comforted her, glaring at Harry as they did. He wanted to speak to her but he was never given the chance to, rightly so considering what he had done to her.

Dylan and Harry, mostly Harry, thought it would best to keep their distance for a while. It killed them both to not be around each other but for the sake of their friendship with Y/N, they shared small moments of brief eye contact and touches throughout the day. Neither of them knew what was to come for the both of them but this limbo was enough for now.

Dylan ate lunch alone and as he did, he listened to the conversations of everyone around him. He wondered what it felt like for them to go about their day feeling like they belong in their own skin and not feel ashamed over who they love. He had never felt so alienated and so out of touch with himself.

He had been given an after school detention for an hour with Mr Henley after calling him sexist in front of the class. No one was around when he left the classroom until he saw a group of girls walking across the field.

At the end of the line was Y/N, wearing her netball uniform.

She must have caught sight of him because the next thing he knew, she was walking up to him. He had to check behind him to see he was seeing correctly.

“Hi Dylan,” She keeps her distance for reasons unknown to him but being around her again made him relax, he missed the friendship he shared right at the very beginning when they were thirteen and picking each other up from class to go to the sweet shop after school.

“Hey Y/N.” He offers her a smile.

“How are you doing?” He didn’t miss the way she gripped her bag like she was trying to stop herself from saying anything she really wanted to.

“I feel like I should be asking you that.” Y/N huffs, “I’ve had better days.” “Y/N-”

“Just tell me this,” She starts, “H-How long?”

Dylan decided he would be as honest and as straight to the point as he could be, it was what she deserved at least.

“Y/N the only thing we did was kiss one time. Harry stopped it because he’s in love with you.”

“And you’re in love with him.”

“Y-Yes.”

Y/N laughs incredulously, “We could never just be three best friends could we? It was always going to be complicated.”

“We could still be best friends Y/N.”

“But it’s not the same now is it?” She bit back and Dylan realised he needed to be careful with what he said. “Is he sad?”

“Terribly. Sometimes I hear him crying in his room at night.”

A silence fell between them which was strange. Y/N and Dylan has always had a brother-sister relationship, Dylan was always one to tease Y/N and make her laugh but right now it seemed all he was doing was making her upset.

“I’m moving schools.” Y/N confessed, “At the end of the term, I’m moving to Bridgewater. Mum’s moving in with her fiancee, and she wants me to be closer.”

“When were you going to tell us?” Dylan was shocked.

“I was given the choice. I could stay here or move to another school but if I stayed I’d have to stay at my dad’s during the holidays and I’m not in the mood to be lectured during my time away from school.”

Dylan didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t fathom the three of them not being together for such a long period of time. “I know what you’re thinking. I know I need to tell him but if we are going to have a shot at being friends again, I need to be away from you both.”

“Y/N,” Dylan shakes his head, “It doesn’t have to be like this,”

“You know I saw you when you kissed each other in the English Literature classroom?” She confessed, Dylan’s lips parting. “He kissed you in a way that he never kissed me. Everytime we kissed afterwards all I could think about was how different it was, how I desperately wanted him to kiss me the way I had seen him kiss you. I used to write in my diary about how I would die if I didn’t have him near me. I thought he would be the end of me but I didn’t realise you would be too.”

“I know he loves you Dylan and... I’m happy for you but I’m not selfless enough to stand beside you both and watch you fall in love when I so desperately love him too.”

“Y/N,” Dylan reaches out for her hand and takes it, “I’m sorry.” “I know Dylan, I know.”

. . .

Now — 2000

Harry’s leg wouldn’t stop jittering as he sat outside the school library on a Tuesday evening. He’d been waiting for this moment for weeks, replaying it over and over in his mind. He had spent countless hours rehearsing his apology to Y/N until it became a permanent loop in his thoughts.

When the library door swung open, he shot up immediately, brushing down his school trousers and running a hand through his hair. Y/N stepped out, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and her backpack slung over her shoulder.

She looked better than she had in weeks, and Harry’s heart ached at the sight of her. He would have carried her bag for her if they were still together.

Her expression changed when she saw him, her voice barely above a whisper. “H-Harry.”

“I came,” he said quickly, the words tumbling out. “I-I couldn’t believe it when I got your text. I’d have waited here for hours if you hadn’t shown up.”

Her face softened briefly, but she walked past him. “Follow me,” she said simply.

He trailed behind her as she led him to the gardens—the place where they’d shared their first kiss and filmed the music video for his and Dylan’s project. It was a space filled with memories of the three of them: Y/N doing homework, Dylan reading, and Harry strumming his guitar.

They sat down on the swinging bench, a familiar seat now heavy with unspoken tension. Harry noticed she kept her distance, and though every fiber of his being wanted to pull her close, he knew it wasn’t the right time.

“Who gave you those?” Harry finally asked, nodding at the flowers in her hand. A flicker of hope crossed his face.

“Debbie,” she said, referring to the school librarian. “It’s my last day working at the library.”

“You quit?” Harry frowned, his gaze flicking from the flowers to her face.

Y/N inhaled deeply before speaking. “I’m leaving, Harry.”

The wind seemed to leave him. “N-No,” he stammered, shaking his head. “You—you can’t. You can’t just leave. I won’t let you—”

“Harry,” she interrupted, reaching for his hand and holding it gently in her lap. “It’s what’s best.”

“How can you say that?” he asked, trying to pull his hand away, though her warmth made it impossible. “How can you say it’s what’s best? The three of us—we’re supposed to be together.”

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked at him. He looked thinner, more tired than she’d ever seen him, but she couldn’t help him—not anymore.

“Y/N, the thing with Dylan...” Harry began, his voice cracking. “I-I never meant for it to happen. We were just alone, I was stressed, and my emotions got the better of me. But I don’t feel the same way about him as I do about you.”

She shook her head softly. “Maybe that’s true, but not in the way you think. Dylan has always been there for you, Harry, in ways I never could. The way you look at him... it’s like he hung the stars in the sky just for you, like he tilted the sun so it would never blind you but still brighten your world.

“Maybe you do love me,” she continued, her voice trembling, “but love isn’t just about taking care of someone. It’s not carrying my backpack because it’s too heavy or doing my homework when I’m too tired after netball. Love is about being vulnerable. It’s about being taken care of, about laughing and crying and feeling like your heart is burning, and nothing can put it out.

“Now tell me, Harry. Did you ever feel that way with me? Were you ever vulnerable with me?”

Harry’s heart cracked. He opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words.

“Please, Y/N,” he whimpered, his voice breaking. “I can’t be without you.”

“You have Dylan,” she said, trying to be the bigger person even though it shattered her inside. “It was never going to be me, Harry. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have feelings for him?”

Harry looked down at the ground, his silence all the confirmation she needed.

Her heart broke all over again, but she forced herself to stay strong. “Why do you have to go?” he asked, tears streaming down his face.

“Because, Harry,” she said gently, “what good would it do for the three of us if I stayed? You need to find out who you are, and so do I. Before me, it was you and Dylan. Now, it will end that way - with you and Dylan.”

“And what about you?” he asked desperately. “What will you do? Where will you go?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “But I’m grateful for what I’ve had. You and Dylan will always be a part of me. I hope one day we’ll forget this pain, and everything will be okay again.”

She reached out, brushing his hair back the way she used to. “I love you, Harry. I love you so much, I feel like I could burst.”

“I love you too,” he murmured. For the first time, he meant it in a way that felt true—not as a lover, but as a best friend.

“Be brave,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “And tell him you love him.”

Harry nodded as the tears fell freely, clinging to her like a child who didn’t want to let go.

She was going to love him forever. She now knew he wouldn’t.

. . .

“She’s gone,” Dylan said softly from the doorway of Harry’s bedroom.

Harry sat at his desk, a pen still in his hand though it hovered, unmoving, above the page. “Was she alright?” he murmured.

“She was better than we probably thought,” Dylan admitted, realizing how much they’d underestimated Y/N’s strength. They’d always thought it was their job to protect her, but she’d always been stronger than the two of them combined.

“Right,” Harry muttered, his voice hollow.

Dylan moved to sit on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. “I was thinking we could have the leftover soup for dinner instead of going to the dining hall.”

“I’m not hungry,” Harry replied—a rare admission from someone who was always hungry.

Dylan frowned. “How long are you going to wallow in this? Can’t you see we’re both trying to do the right thing for your benefit?”

Harry turned to him, anger flashing in his eyes. “And what exactly are you doing?”

“I’ve been keeping my distance,” Dylan snapped. “Acting like we’re strangers when we’re the complete opposite. Do you know how much it kills me to not be near you? To have to hide from myself?”

Harry stood abruptly. “And you think I’m not struggling? You think I haven’t been grappling with everything I feel?”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit!” Dylan shouted, standing to meet Harry’s gaze. “You had someone who loved you for two whole years. You have everything, Harry—loving parents, the best grades, popularity. And you act like it’s all been taken from you because I kissed you!”

“Y/N is gone because of us!” Harry yelled back.

“No,” Dylan said fiercely, his voice rising. “She’s gone because of you! Because you’re too afraid to be honest about who you are! Because you care too much about what everyone else thinks. That’s why she’s gone!”

Their faces were inches apart, their anger radiating in the small space between them.

“How dare you? Can’t you see this is difficult for me to accept?” Harry shouted, his voice trembling with anger and frustration.

“What is?” Dylan snapped back, stepping closer. “What is so difficult, Harry? What’s so hard that you have to sit in the dark and ignore the only two people who’ve ever truly cared about you? Huh? What is it? Tell me. TELL ME.”

“I am in love with you!” Harry yelled, the words ripping out of him like they had been clawing to escape for years. “I am a fool, and I am in love with you.”

Dylan froze, stunned. His breath caught in his throat as the weight of Harry’s confession settled over him. The words he had dreamed of hearing for years hung in the air between them, impossible to ignore.

“What?” Dylan managed, his voice barely a whisper.

“I have loved you since the moment I met you,” Harry said, his voice softer now but no less raw. “And it’s been killing me every day since. I think of you—daily, nightly, every moment in between—and it tears me apart. Kissing you was the bravest thing I’ve ever done, and denying it afterward made me a coward. But here I am now, standing in front of you, a man stupidly, hopelessly in love with his best friend.”

Harry’s eyes were red and glassy, the weight of years of unspoken emotion etched into his every feature.

Dylan stared at him, speechless. He had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was real, the depth of Harry’s vulnerability left him breathless.

“Kiss me,” Dylan whispered, his voice breaking. “Kiss me.”

Harry didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, cupping Dylan’s face in his hands as though it had been crafted to fit perfectly in his palms. Then he kissed him—fervent and unrestrained, pouring every ounce of his love and longing into that singular moment.

Dylan’s world ignited. A piece of him that had been dormant for years finally came alive. His heart and mind, long at odds, now burned in harmony as Harry’s lips moved against his. He felt consumed, but in the most beautiful way, as if he could lose himself in Harry forever and never once regret it.

“I love you too, Harry,” Dylan whispered when they finally parted, their foreheads resting together.

“I bloody well hope so,” Harry murmured, a small laugh escaping his lips as tears spilled down his cheeks.

. . .

Now

Dear Harry,

I’d like to tell you a story that will more than likely make you happy.

One day, I was sat in a café, only a twenty-minute walk away from Southend Park School, which is closed down now and turned into a factory to fix airplanes. I bought my usual order of a decaf cappuccino and a slice of toffee apple cake. On this particular day, they added more sugar to my cappuccino, so I knew it would be a good day.

Across from me, a woman sat, her dog lying down at her feet as she read The Catcher in the Rye whilst sipping on a fruit tea. I didn’t think much of it, but I found it interesting the way she would read something and then shakily jot something down in the little notebook on the table.

Anyway, I had originally come to the café so I could write about our trip to Brighton. You were still complaining about the sand in your clothes just last night despite the fact that Brighton has no sand.

“It’s alright, love,” I comforted you, helping you put your pyjamas on.

“It bothers me, Dylan.” You responded, coughing into your handkerchief.

We don’t leave our small bungalow very often because you don’t like to leave the dogs and I don’t like change, but this trip to Brighton was one we had been planning for a year or so, so we didn’t really have much choice in the matter.

We spent a lot of time sat on the beach in the evenings whilst we were there, a blanket wrapped around the both of us as we fed the seagulls. I remember you saying you liked the sound of the ocean because it made you feel like we were seventeen again, running into the ocean without a care in the world.

You then proceeded to mention how worried you are about our Y/N, “I hope she’s doing alright, our Y/N.” You said and then went back to talking about a programme you watched the night before.

You had always worried about Y/N in the years after she left, always asking where she was or what she was up to despite the fact we never got in contact with her again. I also wonder whether or not she is okay, and I knew that if I were to see her again, I would thank her for allowing us the space to fall in love.

It was awfully difficult those months after we kissed in your bedroom. We were constantly berated by people we had never spoken to before, and I knew it bothered you for a while, but we overcame it just like we did every other obstacle in our lives... together.

Anyway, as I continued to write about our trip, the door to the café opened again and three middle-aged people walked over to the elderly lady in the corner. “Come on Mum, we’ve got to say goodbye to Dad now,” the man spoke to her, and she swatted him away. Something about that small action gave me a strong sense of déjà vu.

“Give me a moment,” the woman responded, and the three children sat at the table in the chairs around her.

Eventually, they managed to get her standing up. One of them placed her coat around her shoulders, and another handed her her walking stick. When she turned to look at me, I saw a familiar set of eyes looking straight at me.

The three people aiding her walked to the door and held it open for her. As she was about to step out the door, her walking stick fell out of her shaky hands and right at my feet. I quickly picked it up and handed it to her, her face brightening at the sight of me.

“Thank you.” Her voice still sounded the same all that time ago.

“No... Thank you, my darling.”

#harry styles fic rec #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry edward styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #one direction

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prozacpussyprincess · 1 year ago

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Blushing, Crushing, and Totally F*cked! Part III

Summary: Reader finally gets totally f*cked! Final Part!!!

Part I: https://www.tumblr.com/piperlivingdeliberately/731031070307401728/blushing-crushing-and-totally-fcked?source=share

Part II: https://www.tumblr.com/piperlivingdeliberately/731124314601062400/blushing-crushing-and-totally-fcked-part-ii?source=share

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI! Awkward, giggly, wholesome sex because they’re both cute little losers, fingering (r! receiving), tit play (both receiving), oral (r! receiving), scissoring, top!hazel, swearing, mostly just cute fluffy first time sex!

“Fuck,” was all you could think to say to your reflection in the mirror as you stared at the deep purple hickey on your neck. “Fuck,” you repeated, remembering that you had to be at school in less than forty minutes. “FUCK!” you shouted once more, realizing that all of your friends would also be at school, and being the nosy freaks they are, they would not be stopped until they knew who had marked you up.

Hazel. Oh, God, Hazel. Every time you touched the bruise, you swore you could still feel the ghost of her lips and teeth against your sensitive skin. You had fallen asleep so quickly the night before, exhausted from just a short makeout session. When you woke up, you had an internal debate about whether or not it had all been a dream. It was too good to be true, right?

The purple that Hazel had painted on your neck said “wrong”.

…

Relief flooded you when you realized that Hazel was the first of your friends to arrive to Mr. G’s class. Her perky smile greeted you as you sat beside her.

“Hi,” she said awkwardly, the greeting a bit late considering that she had already been staring at you for twenty seconds.

“Hi,” you returned. Nervous laughter floated between the two of you.

“So, I was thinking that you could come over tonight after school,” Hazel began, words stumbling out faster than she could properly form them. “I know it’s short notice so it’s cool if you want to go home first and get your stuff. Or it’s totally cool if you don’t want to come anymore! I would totally understand and not care–”

“Hazel,” you cut her off. “I would be happy to come over tonight. I’ll need to run back to my house to get ready, but I’ll text you when I’m on my way. ”

“Oh,” she exhaled, eyeing her own hands in her lap. “Great. Perfect.”

With Hazel’s eyes on her lap, you finally looked away from her. Of course, just your luck, you were met with the wide-eyed stares of Josie and PJ standing above you.

“Hey, guys,” you said flatly, waiting patiently for PJ’s flagrant comments to begin.

“Hey to you two, as well,” Josie said formally. Her voice was almost squeaky, like a balloon trying not to let out too much air.

“PJ, you’re awfully quiet this morning,” you prodded. It was true. You hadn’t even thought she would last a second seeing you and Hazel so blatantly ogling each other.

“I have nothing to say this morning,” she retorted, jaw clenched in frustration or concentration, you weren’t sure. You flicked your eyes to Hazel, who had started to notice your friends’ obvious self-restraint. She held her ringed hand up to her mouth to hide her smile.

“How strange,” Hazel joined in on the game. “It’s very, very rare that you have nothing to say, isn’t it PJ?”

“I suppose,” PJ replied.

“So you really have nothing on your mind?” you questioned her. “There’s really not a single thing that might be on the tip of your tongue?” You watched her eyes light up like a kid on Christmas when you moved your hair to the side, deliberately exposing your hickey.

“Oh my fucking God!” PJ pointed at your neck. “I knew it! I fucking knew it! I told you, Josie!”

Josie simply stared in silent admiration, allowing her best friend to make herself look like an idiot as she jumped up and down. “Yes, PJ. You did tell me. How could you ever have guessed?” Sarcasm coated her voice.

“So, who’s the top?” PJ asked, and was thankfully cut off by the beginning of Mr. G’s lecture.

You were nearly able to focus entirely on class until you felt Hazel’s breath as she whispered softly against your ear. “Did I give you that?” She jutted her chin out at your bruise. You almost laughed before you realized that she was genuinely asking. You simply nodded at her, unable to contain your smile when she flushed from her forehead to her neck.

A sudden flash of bravery came over you as you watched her blush, so you leaned into her. “I wouldn’t want anyone else in the world to give me that.” She shivered at the whisper, eyes locked on yours from the moment you had said it to the moment the bell rang. You blew her a kiss–a painfully chaste gesture compared to your previous actions–and bounded out of the room as if nothing had happened. Hazel was dumbfounded and couldn’t stop staring at the door until PJ clapped her on the shoulder.

“Good luck with that, champ,” she taunted, prompting Hazel to finally get up from her seat. “Tell us where you put the next hickey after tonight!” Hazel’s middle finger waved goodbye to PJ, because she couldn’t be bothered to think about doing anything else with her hands that didn’t involve you.

…

Despite her one-track mind earlier in the day, Hazel could do nothing with her hands but hold them awkwardly behind her back as she welcomed you into her home that night.

“Hi, Haze,” you started, sensing her nerves. “Cute jammies,” you complimented the baggy blue and black flannel pajamas she wore. You framed it like a joke, but you were just trying to distract yourself from how sexy she looked in the black sports bra that scarcely covered her top half.

“Shut up,” she laughed, clearly not sensing your thoughts. “You, on the other hand, actually do look cute.” She grew a bit bolder and placed her hand on the small of your back, fiddling with the hem of your bunny-print PJ pants.

“Why are you acting so surprised that I look cute?” you feigned offense, clutching your hand to your chest. “Is it so shocking that I could look good?”

“What?” Hazel nearly fell over her own feet. “You always look cute! You are quite literally the cutest, most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I would never–”

You cut off her rambling with a deep kiss. You hadn’t planned on making your move so early in the evening, but something about those compliments hit a deep spot inside you. “I was just kidding, Haze,” you whispered against her mouth, punctuating the sentence with another quick press to her lips.

“I like it when you call me that,” she whispered back, pulling away to move a stray piece of hair out of your face. She began turning her head in all directions, taking in the foyer as if she hadn’t seen it thousands of times. “Holy shit. We didn’t even make it past the entryway.” You erupted into laughter, grasping her arms as you caught your breath. She took the opportunity to grab one of your hands and wordlessly led you to her room.

Hazel closed the door behind her, turning around to see you facing her expectantly. She didn’t waste a second before grabbing your face and kissing you again, so impatient for you. Realizing she should have at least brought you to the bed first, she giggled as she gently pushed you in the right direction. She laid you down softly against her pillows before climbing on top of you.

Every second that she stared into your eyes, you felt the butterflies in your stomach multiply. You pulled her in by the collar of her shirt, disappointed when she only offered you a short, closed-mouth kiss. Her deep blue eyes bore into yours once again, grinning almost mischievously before she dove into your neck.

You moaned as her tongue flicked out against the hickey she had already created, whining when she created a friend for it on the other side of your neck. She trailed her kisses down lower until she reached the top of your camisole.

“Can I?” she asked, breaths already growing heavy. You only nodded, not confident in your ability to speak properly at the moment.

“Use your words for me,” Hazel said, her voice a low depth that you had never heard before.

“Yes, Hazel,” you gasped. “Yes.” You were grateful that she didn’t taunt you for your desperation and instead just pulled your shirt down enough for her to kiss down to your nipple. She waved her tongue around the bud, circling it before taking it between her lips. The gentle sucking motions had you arching your back into her. She pressed her face into your cleavage as she made her way to your other tit. She played with the nipple that had just been in her mouth, pulling soft sounds from you as she rolled it between her fingers.

“You sound so pretty, baby.” You moaned in response and began tugging your shirt over your head. Hazel jerked back in surprise. “Oh, getting impatient, huh?” she teased. You would have laughed, but you were too busy trying not to shrink under her penetrating gaze as she stared at your tits. It felt like minutes before she finally looked back at your eyes, asking, “Do you even know how fucking sexy you are?” Then you did laugh, covering your face with your hands.

“Stop it.” You blushed behind the blanket of your palms. Your quiet giggles turned into a gasp when you felt Hazel pry your hands away from you.

“I mean it.” You almost felt like she was scolding you. “You are so unbelievably perfect.”

“Thank you.” You genuinely meant it, trying to convey your appreciation through your eyes. Feeling needy and nervous again, you distracted yourself by running your hands up and down her back. You eventually felt brave enough to begin pulling at her sports bra. She understood your silent command and removed it, her breasts hanging over your face tantalizingly.

She must have finally understood how you felt in your earlier position, because she laughed shyly and fell into your shoulder so that you couldn’t stare.

“Nope,” you said. “Come here, baby.” She climbed up your body further, red-faced and avoiding your gaze. She couldn’t help but look at you again after you took her left nipple into your mouth.

“God,” she uttered in shock, rolling her hips into yours. You whimpered against her chest, urging her to gyrate even faster. “Fuck.” She pulled her tits away from your mouth, giggling at the pout that had formed on your face. “This okay?” she asked, her finger now playing with your waistband. Your pouty lip quickly transformed into a grin while you helped Hazel remove your shorts and panties.

You felt yourself grow wetter with every kiss that Hazel placed on her journey down. When she finally reached the spot between your legs, she started planting kisses even lower, sucking into the plush flesh of your thighs. She looked up at you once more, silently confirming that she had your consent.

“Please,” you whined, and she didn’t hesitate.

Hazel licked a long, slow stripe from your slit to your clit, refusing to break eye contact as she watched you squirm. When she reached your most sensitive spot, she clamped her lips around it, flicking her tongue out to tease your clit. She reveled in your moans that grew louder with every lick. Every minute that passed, the coil in your stomach tightened more and more. You gasped out praises and shouts of her name when she began fucking you with her tongue.

You almost dragged her back down by her hair when she emerged from between your thighs, grinning face covered in slick and spit. She hovered over you once more, but this time her finger danced around your entrance.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” she asked.

“Mmhmm,” you sighed, pushing your hips downward to try to meet her in the middle. At the same time that she smashed her mouth against yours, she slipped one finger into your soaking pussy, gasping against your lips.

“Fuck,” she groaned. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” She sat back a bit to watch her fingers as they disappeared inside of you. She was only released from the trance when you pulled her in by the back of her neck and forced your tongue into her mouth.

The kiss was messy and sticky and tasted overwhelmingly of your own juices. You didn’t care about being reserved or self-conscious about your kissing skills when Hazel’s fingers were so perfectly curling into that spongy spot that made your back arch. You moved your hands from her hair to scratch red streaks down her back with her nails, only stopping when her guttural moan made you realize something.

She had been grinding against the mattress searching for her own pleasure this whole time.

“Hazel,” you called to her between kisses. She pressed her forehead to yours and waited for your request. “I want you.”

“You already have me, beautiful.” She kissed your cheek softly. “I’m all yours.”

“I want you on me, Haze.” Your pleads finally made sense to her and she began frantically undressing her lower half. She was completely naked on top of you in seconds. The skin-to-skin contact had you reeling for her. She hooked her right leg over your left, tentatively floating above you. Making sure she had your attention, she grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to meet her eyes as she sank herself onto you.

You moaned in unison as she began grinding her wetness onto yours. You rose slightly, using her thigh to give you leverage to pull yourself against her. It took you a moment to find your rhythm with each other, but once you did, sounds of pleasure bounced around the room.

That familiar feeling began to reach you again, and Hazel could tell from the way your moans transformed into whimpers and quiet whines of her name.

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl,” she cooed as she stroked your breast. “So good for me.”

“Holy– Haze, fuck!” You were so thankful that her mother was away, since you were shamelessly yelling at this point. “I’m so close, babe.”

“You can do it, sweetheart,” she urged you on, speeding up her hips as she neared her own end. “Cum with me.” Not a minute passed before you were heeding Hazel’s gentle command, moans cut off by the waves of pleasure that coursed through you. Hazel brushed your hair out of your face, uttering praises and giving you a break before she continued to use your slick to ride out her own orgasm. The overstimulation didn’t last long, for Hazel had been close to finishing just from hearing you moan her name.

Her hips stuttered on top of yours until she collapsed back onto the bed. Her body was folded in half, her legs outstretched awkwardly.

“Comfy, Haze?” you joked, laughing as she shook her head and repositioned herself beside you.

“Oh, my god.” She stared at the ceiling, then at you with wide eyes. “I just fucked you.”

“That you did.” You giggled at her disbelief as you kissed her cheek. “And you did it very well.”

The praise made her blush. She buried her glistening face in your neck, wrapping her arms around your still naked torso.

“So,” she began, still hiding her face due to nerves. “Are you my girlfriend now?”

“I better be after that,” you said. You laughed together for a minute before urging her to look at you. “I would love to be your girlfriend, Hazel Callahan.”

And so you were.

#bottoms 2023 #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan smut #bottoms movie #hazel x reader

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gothamite-rambler · 2 months ago

Text

"You slashed his tires?" Dick asked, disappointed at the upcoming answer.

Inspired by Class of 09 mostly cause I imagine Jason would be there for Roy as a friend. I'm aware the characters that most of these lines are connected to are clinically insane, but I wanted to write this because I like their dynamic and it's just my silly headcanon fanfic.

Dick Grayson: Jason, I've been questioning this since you became friends with Roy.

Jason Todd (staring into his coffee): You're jealous he's my friend and not yours.

Dick (sincere): No, you're a good influence on him, I'm not upset about that. I noticed Oliver Queen seems to hate you a lot. Why?

Jason (sheepishly): We... We didn't have the best first meet up when I became friends with Roy.

Dick sat down and waved his hand for Jason to continue.

Dick: I have to hear this.

Jason: Okay... It’s a really funny story, you’re gonna laugh by the end of it.

Dick (sighing): I doubt it, but go on.

---Flashback (inspired by Class of 09)---

Roy and Jason entered Oliver Queen's mansion. Jason looks around, amazed to be in another rich person's house that isn’t his dad’s.

Roy (worried): You think that cop bought our story?

Jason (confident): Yeah, the other guy confirmed it while we ran off... we’re good. I’ll be right back though; I have to fix this.

Roy watched as Jason walked over to a tilted painting in Oliver Queen’s house.

Roy (bemused smile): What are you doing?

Jason Todd (examining a framed picture of a flower): I can’t deal with this painting being crooked.

Jason aligned the frame. Roy laughed until he heard footsteps descending the stairs. He realized his father had come home early. Oliver Queen saw Roy and a strange man in his foyer.

Oliver Queen (raising his voice, angry): Where have you been?

Roy (rubbing his arm, ashamed) I don’t know, are you a cop now?

Oliver: No note, no text— you could have died!

Roy: With how you handled my drug use, would you have cared?

Oliver: Get over it; you’re fine.

Jason (walking over): Roy, why’s this asshole yelling at you?

Oliver: And who’s this?

Roy: My… new friend.

Jason: We were at the mall, by the way, so you can stop grilling Roy.

Oliver (doubtful): So I’m supposed to believe you two were at the mall all night?

Roy: What do you mean “all night”? We were there for like, what… two or three hours?

Jason (looking around): Yeah, two and a half. Like the show.

Oliver: It’s 1 in the morning!

Jason: Damn, we hung out with that guy that long?

Oliver: What guy?

Roy (nervous): Nobody.

Oliver: What guy, Roy?

Roy: Nobody!

Oliver: Tell me!

Roy (frustrated): Oh my God.

Oliver: Tell me or your friend has to go home!

Jason (amused): Cool, an ultimatum.

Roy (losing his cool): You really want to know?

Oliver: Yes! What guy was this?

Roy (shouting): The crackhead in front of the mall we sold weed to!

Oliver (shocked): Where did you even get—oh, you’re so stupid!

Roy: Oh, so you hate homeless people too?!

Oliver: My opinions about the homeless community are not the issue here! Dealing drugs in public—dealing drugs in general- it doesn’t matter if you sold them to get rid of them! How can you be so idiotic?!

Jason, irritated at Oliver yelling at his friend, steps in.

Jason: It was actually kind of smart.

Oliver (indignant): Excuse me?

Jason: You better fix your fucking tone with me before I slash your tires!

Oliver (offended): Who are you talking to?!

Jason: I’m talking to you, Green Arrow!

Oliver: How did you—

Roy: Ollie, funny story—

Oliver: Did you sell him crack or heroin? Did you tell him who I was for that smack, Roy?!

Roy, rubbing his arm shamefully, remains silent.

Jason: Who says “smack”? You 1950s gangster! I also love how you didn’t pretend you weren’t him; that’s how stupid you are! We sold weed to a crackhead, because what would a crackhead want with weed? Cops won’t expect that shit! It’s genius!

Oliver (mocking): Genius, really?!

Jason: Yeah! And he’s been sober for a few freaking years! So lay off him! We sold the weed because we had it left over from a mission! A mission you weren’t on! What did you want us to do, keep it? That’s dumb! We did a business deal and got rid of evidence. You should be thankful we don’t have it!

Roy (defiant): Yeah, so... why don’t you shut the fuck up?!

Oliver (smirk): What if I have you arrested? You’ll be able to walk, since your plan is so bulletproof!

Roy: No, wait, don’t do that!

Jason: Go the fuck ahead, asshole. They’ll believe us because we’re young and you’re old and dried up.

Oliver: That’s it, I don’t want you hanging out with him anymore!

Jason (angry): He can hang out with whoever the fuck he wants, bitch! So why don’t you go to your room, pour your little Cognac, watch M.A.S.H, and shut the fuck up or I’ll shove an arrow up your urethra!

Oliver: I can't believe you'd say that!

Oliver busted into tears and runs off.

Jason: God, that felt good. Wish I could say that to my dad.

Roy: Why don’t you?

Jason: He’ll write me out of the will.

Roy: Wow, huh... I think you broke him, so yeah, I get not saying that to Bruce.

Jason: I did break him... Awesome. I’m glad I defended you.

Roy: Honestly, I appreciate that, but we should leave. He’s going to be sobbing for a while.

Jason: And watching M.A.S.H?

Roy: It’s not on tonight.

---End of Flashback---

Jason: Then I stole some stuff from his fridge, slashed his tires, and we’ve had animosity toward each other ever since. Man, those were crazy times. Guess he hasn’t forgotten about it.

Jason sighed contentedly.

Dick (rubbing his forehead, exhausted): You do realize how that wasn’t okay, right?

Jason: Yes, but I helped Roy when he was struggling and got that Oliver prick off his case. I’ve done a lot for Roy, especially in helping him get full custody of his daughter. Oliver should be appreciating what his son has become. I am such a good person, you know that?

Dick (chuckling): I don’t disagree. At least you’re not the only one Oliver dislikes.

Jason: Who else does he hate?

Dick: Bruce. Long story.

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metranart · 5 months ago

Text

Mikey x Reader x Draken (Tokyo Revengers)(Part 9)

Being a gang leader doesn’t leave a lot of free time and having hit the critical age of the hormonal teenager, Draken and Mikey are beginning to feel the raging urge of having some needs meet.

You end up ordering hot cakes and mint tea, Mikey orders a milkshake and waffles and Draken takes eggs, bacon and black coffee.

Silence follows when you all start to eat, only munching sounds and your loud thoughts can be heard. The three of you actually so hungry that your plates are empty in less than five minutes.

These are the best hot cakes you have ever had! Or maybe you were that hungry, but whatever it was, you sigh satisfied and grin at feeling comfortable at least by the food.

Searching for the scarce remains of that comforting feeling, your finger slides across the porcelain plate to get the remains of honey you can.

You're usually not that messy but it's a little inevitable when these flavors are the only thing at the moment giving you certain kind of peace of mind.

A golden, honeyed drop rolls from your fingertip to your lips and then down your chin. Your tongue darts out to stop its journey down but it’s a second too slow.

Your gasp catches inside your lungs, and unrequested goosebumps raid your whole body when both blonds mercilessly attack you.

Mikey's lips are the first thing you feel, in a chaste, gentle peck next to your lips, as if asking permission, even so, he doesn't wait as he always does and the next thing you feel is his velvety tongue, wet and warm, following the rebellious path of the honey drop, down your chin.

While Draken, for his part, yanks your wrist in the gentlest of pulls, like re-teaching your body to stretch. The tall gang member merely grins when your stares cross and even when your shocked expression screams of how unsettled you feel for what he is about to do, he still does it.

His mouth opens and your honey-coated index finger finds its way inside it. Those glossy lips close around the stoic digit and his tongue dances slowly, almost sensually lazy around the skin. Devouring the honey but mostly feeding on your blushing, nervous disposition, since his gaze never falters from yours.

You gulp hard, having both blondes stick to a part of your body in public isn’t exactly what you ordered for breakfast and once clean, both reluctantly abandon their task.

Mikey gives one last smooch to your cheek as Draken pecks tenderly the pad of your finger, and soon both are using the sleeves of their uniforms to wipe off the rests of saliva from you.

“—My milkshake was good…. But damn! How do you always manage to taste sweeter, darlin’?”

Mikey’s cheeks are red, chest heaving, all the sign you don’t wanna see.

“It-…. It isn’t me, Sano.” You reply swiftly as if trying to dissuade whatever thought might be inside that hormonal head of his, “… it was the honey what you tasted—”

“Nah~” Draken butts in, “sure the honey was sweet, but nothing compared to your pussy...”

“Draken, shut it—”

“Your pussy is…” Draken openly ignores you and keeps daydreaming, “fuck! Is my favorite flavor.”

“Stop, Draken!”

“I mean, if I could have as every meal, a full plate of your sweet, shaven—”

Both your palms slap at his mouth to stop his next words, and you can hear Mikey burst out laughing.

“Knock it off, Ken Ryuguji.” You scold him like a little child, and he merrily shrugs, nonchalant.

Your face is beat red and your heartbeat a mess, a wild mix of emotions painting your whole face: embarrassment, anger, shock, uneasiness with a pinch of honeyed excitement…. You are not sure where the excitement comes from, but it surprises you to even feel it.

You can feel Draken smirk under your hands and then his lips start kissing your palms making you recoil back, fast.

The sub-commander chuckles. “Do that again.” He asks suddenly.

And putting your hands under the table on top of your thighs, you shake your negative.

Mikey snickers at your sheepishness. “—I bet you thought I was the worst of the two,” the short blonde grins, “…. I’m a walk in the park compared to this one.”

He motions to his bestie and the tall teen stares back smugly, before repeat.

“Do that again.”

You squint your eyes at him, “… it was a spurt of the moment—”

“Nevertheless, do it again.”

You shake your head stubbornly and Draken narrows his eyes mischievously.

“You have the sweetest PUSS—”

His loud statement is cut short by your hands pressing again against his mouth, and Mikey can’t help but laugh, clutching his stomach while he amusedly enjoys Draken’s misbehaving.

“God, it’s like dealing with a child in steroids!”

You complain a little fed up, but your outburst only makes Mikey laugh harder. Draken starts to say something, yet his words come out muffled, and he ends up licking your palm in order for you to let go.

“Gross, Draken—”

“Not Draken,” he points out, “Ken-… Ken Ryuguji.” He asks, and his heartfelt request slowly fades Mikey’s laughter into a curious grin.

“Say my name, my real name…. Do it again.”

That’s what he meant before. His name, he wanted you to say his name.

“I loved the sound of it,” Draken admits, “in your voice,” he continues, “tagging me as taken and owned since no one else is allowed to use that name apart from MY boy—”

You raise an eyebrow and quickly Mikey lifts a finger to claim your attention, “I’m HIS boy.”

“… His boy.” You repeat more to yourself and a thousand memories of them flood your brain, from them eating each other’s mouths, to them jacking off, to them sucking, groping, kissing, fucki—

“Are you a couple?” you can't help but ask, “I mean…. since when are you a couple? I mean…does anyone know? .... Probably not, since no tough, gang member from Japan” you point out, “…would faithfully follow a homosexual couple-…sometimes we are such a closed-minded culture—”

“We don't like men,” Mikey interrupts you, “…we like and are crazy about women.” The Toman leader states and soon adds, “—we have never and will never be with another man.”

You pout, doubts and questions reflecting in your features.

Draken chuckles lightly, to then reach out to you and draw his knuckles gently over your creased forehead until it smoothens.

“We don’t fancy cock,” the tall blond explains, “we fancy pus-…”

Your hand raises in warning and Draken giggles, ending up just mouthing the word without sound. So, you lower your hand.

“But I saw you-…” you remind them, “I saw you, kissing, touching and doing stuff to each other—”

“Sure, Draken is mine and I’m his.” Mikey claims without shame. “We are each other’s exception.”

“-Then I’m just your plaything…”

“NO.” They stress in unison.

“You are OURS.” Draken is the one to speak first, “our girl, our soulmate, the missing part on our triangle…”

“Our future wife.” Mikey adds, swiftly. His black gaze set on you, to watch your reaction firsthand.

You do your best to keep the shock down and under a serene facade of numb detachment, to then say as cold and indifferent as you can.

“I’m your actual cumdump and future sex slave—”

“NO!” they say in unison one more time. Their voices sound strained as an angry beg.

“We love you-”

“DON’T say something you don’t mean,” you say in a fit, “it’s kind of a dick move, you don’t have to pretend,” your words stop them cold. “I already slept with you, I already did everything with you-…. you can cut the crap!”

There’s a solid awkward silence which would have linger there if it wouldn’t be interrupted by the waitress asking you if you needed anything else. You ask for the check and the silence permeates the booth until the check arrives.

“—Like I promised yesterday, this one is on me… you know, for take me to the hospital and pay for it,” you take some bills out of a hidden pocket in your pants and place it on top of the table, “… and this-” you take another couple of bills, “is for the scarring sex, that way we can stop calling it rape,” you add in an icy, full of contempt tone, “… I won’t call the police on you and you won’t look for me again, we are even.”

Your voice is final, yet silence is the only response you get.

You sigh, unable to look them in the face, that way you can keep the tough act at float.

“Excuse me, Sano.” You say to the immobile blond next to you, and to your utter surprise, he does move.

Standing up, Mikey offers you his hand to get out of the booth, yet you don’t take it but do thank for his chivalry to which he faintly nods.

Not a single word has come out of their mouths and somehow that uneased you, but whatever this strike of luck is, you are sure to take advantage of it.

Sporting the same utter silence, the three stand still for a minute before starting to walk to the exit, when a better idea grazes your brain.

“I’m going to pass to the restroom before go, wait for me here?”

Both gang members merely stare at you in response. Those sharp gazes devoid of any recognizable emotions make you look away and at your feet instead, and a little more than shaken, you spin on your hills to go to the bathroom.

Once inside you check the door to confirm that they won't burst inside and once more at ease. You splash some cold water to your face to then look for a window.

“There.” You mutter mutedly when you finally find a way out of the nightmare. A small, yet big enough, window greets you from the last stall, and using the toilet as leverage, you glance back through your shoulder one last time to then sneak out.

Your little legs are the first thing to stick out the window, using your hands to support your weight before letting you fall to the floor of the alley hidden between the streets. Sound of people reach your ear, yet you ignore them.

Before your feet touch the hard ground a wave of happiness begins to invade you, God! You did it! You escaped from them…. You are so excited that your face feels numb and when you feel the soles of your boots touch the ground, you almost jump with excitement.

Crouched down, you close your eyes to enjoy the moment of victory, a victory that threatens to turn to ashes in your mouth when the sun bouncing off the walls of the alley is blocked by something large.

“Look guys, don't we know this cute little thing?”

You hear someone say in a familiar voice and turning around suddenly, your eyes widen in worry, as you encounter a faction of the gang, you defeated the night before.

The beaten and putrid face of the person who betrayed your gang and the Toman and unleashed all the conflict between gangs, smiles macabrely down at you while licking his lips.

“You, little bitch,” the gang member spells slowly, “I’ve been looking for you. Yesterday I lost to you, but today I'm going to get even.”

The traitor's henchmen make a half circle, cornering you against the wall and blocking any escape route, your main enemy takes the center to be able to see you from the front and to delight in the terror your eyes show when he begins to unbutton his pants belt.

“First you are going to pay me for the beating,” his belt opens wide and now his fingers continue with the buttons of his pants, “then you are going to compensate me for my effort,” he lowers the zipper, “and once that you have that annoying mouth full of my cock and my cum slides down your beautiful esophagus, all of we are going to teach you that in gangs there is a rule that should never be broken," he takes out his vulgar cock, erect and swollen, and strokes it a couple of times, smearing drops of precum from the head all over the shaft, “No Girls Allow!”

This is your fucking luck!

From your crouching position you scan the horizon and seeing a small space, you lunge towards it hoping to get away, but one of the boys catches you and pulls you back towards the center of the circle, scratching and kicking to no avail.

With no options left, you throw a punch, and a scream of pain paints the silence of the pleasant morning when the bandage wrapping your closed fist begins to turn red.

Even when that painful punch managed to take down one of the boys, and if it weren't for the incapacitating wound throbbing in your hand, you might have defeated the rest, you now that you are doom. You're so tired and exhausted, the little strength in you slowly fades as you fall to your knees hugging your hand to your chest.

“You fucking stuck-up bitch!” one of the henchmen shouts, kicking you in the stomach, “we are going to teach you how to behave!!”

Yanking you from the hair, he stands behind you and presents you to his leader once he has you subdued. “Go on, shove it all the way in, that's what this slut is good for.”

The insults and laughter do not wait, and you almost block your jaw by closing it so tightly.

“Open your mouth, so I can give you your breakfast.” The traitor mocks, swanking his junk in front of your face before slapping you with it. You almost open your mouth in gag reflection, at the disgust of feeling his warm, wet skin against your cheek.

“Open your fucking mouth, scum.” Large, rough hands fixate on your jaw, trying to open it with violent and rough movements but you refuse, the pain is getting higher and higher, but you prefer it to swallowing what awaits you. “Come on, otherwise we're going to have to use another, tighter hole.”

Everyone laughs, some watching animatedly while others holding your hands to prevent you from hitting them.

“Dibs on her ass.” You hear one say.

“Oh man, I wanted her ass, well I’ll settle for her pussy.”

“Fuck that, I want to fuck her tits, look at those! So freaking big and plush!”

All the stares fall on your breast, and you can almost hear them lick their lips, terror fills you to the point of desperation when one of them finally uses his brain.

“Pinch her nose,” one suggests, “my mom used to do that to force me to eat when I didn't want to.”

“Ten points for Gryffindor,” the traitor says, and one of his henchmen pinches your nose painfully tight. Air stops flooding your system, and everyone waits with bated breath, enjoying the way your face is starting to change color.

“She has to open her mouth eventually, don't she?” one wonders, worry looming just a little, unable to wrap his head at how much you have lasted without air.

“She's stubborn but she's not stupid,” the leader reaches out to smear the tip of his cock against your trembling lips. “Ready to suck me off?”

The air finally runs out and your lungs scream for oxygen, your mouth opens and tears of frustration fall down your cheeks when a loud crash is heard and you suddenly fall to the ground, gasping.

Your tear-filled eyes can't focus properly and you're too busy sucking in air to pay attention to anything else, but you definitely see what looks like a mass of black and gold, delivering out punches.

“Fuckin’ bastard, I’m going to kill ya!”

Someone roars while entering running from the entrance of the alley, someone tall and big, and you can sense with half-numb ears and glassy eyes how all the boys attacking you are now a throbbing, bloody mass on the floor.

Thus, that enemy faction lies unconscious, pulverized and catatonic against the hard and dirty cement of the alley teased by some shy sun rays.

Mikey and Draken don't stop at that, they continue demolishing them with blows until the inert bodies are barely breathing.

The gasps you hear from the two blondes are more of fury than real effort, they both heard your scream and entering the bathroom, they didn't find you.

Panic set in when Mikey, the only other one who was able to slide out the little window into the alley, saw that you were about to be assaulted.

Falling from the sky in front of you, like your angel of salvation, the blonde went crazy with anger, not even waiting for his lover, who had to go around the restaurant to get there.

Once the anger subsided a little, they were able to think again, and both ran to your side. Crouching next to your battered body, covered in bruises and a bleeding hand.

“Damn it, her wound opened again.” Draken exclaimed, removing the shirt under his jacket to stop the bleeding.

“Let's take her to the hospital—”

“And what money are we supposed to pay with, Mikey? Or we let them patch up her again and then sneak out using a bathroom window….” Draken's annoyed gaze falls prejudicially on you and your recent actions, and Mikey immediately tries to calm him down.

“No need for the sarcasm, man.” Mikey disapproves, “later we can discuss how to reprimand this disobedient kitten. I know! Let's take her to Mitsuya and Hakkai.”

The leader of the Toman suggests. "He’s good with this kind of wounds, plus Mitsuya is excellent at sewing-"

“Sweaters and dresses, not people!” Draken chimes, applying more pressure to your wound.

“Take me… home.” You suggest weakly, and they both look down at you.

“My older sister is a nurse,” you inform them, “she will help me for free, she is very good.”

The blondes don't seem convinced and soon the questions everyone harvest in their minds, pops out from Mikey’s mouth.

“Why didn't we take you to her yesterday?”

The blonde motions his head at the wound on your hand, which started it all, and you frown.

"She works in the private sector in Kyoto, just this morning she arrived home to-... just take me to her.”

Draken and Mikey share a look and it's like they're having an internal conversation. You see it in the way they look at each other, and finally reaching a secret agreement, they both nod.

The tall blonde rubs the back of his neck and the short one cracks his knuckles before saying.

“Fine, kitten.” Mikey shares, a sullen grimace on his face is soon replaced by a playful grin, “…let's meet the sister-in-law.”

COMING SOON PART 10....

⭕️ In my PATREON you will find NSFW art of this story and lots of NSFW content from Tokyo Rev and other popular anime, exclusive smut fanfiction and more.

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swampstew · 7 months ago

Text

You Picked Dare

Summary: Why the hell would you play truth or dare with a bunch of pirates? Warnings: nsfw but mostly language and suggestive content, no actual smut, Kid Pirates being the Kid Pirates. Killer x Female reader x Kid

Inspired by the mega awesome @magnuspirate who did this delighful tease of two hunky hunks hunking around

Dare.

Your bold statement had come out smug and confident, echoing in your head with a twinge of regret.

The Dare was to go into the hot springs and take a photo – of Killer and your Captain. Damn the others for knowing your kryptonite.

There was an opt-out option – to clean the communal bathrooms for a month. No fucking way.

As you walked through the island you took nervous hits of your blunt to ease the butterflies in your stomach. All you had to do was take a picture. There were no restrictions, you could be seen or hidden, as long as you got a photo of them that was all you needed to escape this torturous dare disguised as a group bonding activity.

Fuck the crew! You loved them but also fuck them. You were gonna get them back.

About a hundred yards away from the hot spring you took a final drag and snuffed out the remaining blunt. Giving yourself an internal pep talk as you took each step.

‘Position self behind a bush. Snap a picture. Sneak away and then run like the devil’s on my heels.’

Picturing your devil of a captain, your stomach coiled with anxiousness. Oh how you wished you could light up the roach.

Creeping between the foliage, you could hear Kid and Killer talking to each other in relaxed conversation. They didn’t appear to notice you, silently cursing as you realized they were still too far to take a photo.

Tip toeing on the patches of grass, you could make out their conversation more clearly.

“Ya ever think about sleeping with someone on the crew?” Kid suddenly asked Killer. You nearly fell over yourself when you heard the statement.

“Once in a while, rarely act on it though. You?” Killer mused.

“All the time.”

“Horn dog,” Killer scoffed.

“Can ya blame me? All our girls are hot as fuck.”

“Yeah, but I also see most of them as sisters…”

“You’re so pure,” Kid laughed. “Yeah they’re family, but they’re also not. I’m not saying I’d do anything about it either but it’s tempting some times.”

You felt as if you weren’t breathing, skillfully crawling around the shrubs eager to hear and see more, as silent as the dead. One breath and they were sure to discover you.

“Ahh is this about Y/N again?”

Time stopped. Your heart stopped. You didn’t dare move.

“Could be,” there was a tilt in Kid’s voice. “Don’t pretend you don’t think about her and what it could be like.”

“You’re being vulgar, which isn’t surprising, but what do you expect me to say? ‘Sure Kid I’ll bow out from another person of interest to give you the advantage as your friend.’” Killer legitimately sounded a little mad. Well like, personal hurt mad, not crazy mad which he was every single second.

“I’m a man with needs too. And I LIKE her.”

You wished to be a small lizard so you could watch them argue about you. Maybe the blunt was laced with something – wouldn’t put it past your crew to be honest.

Low growling preceded a laugh, and you could hear the sound of water splashing. Oh to the gods to be a fish in that spring.

“Alright fair enough. Would it make you feel better if we do it together? It’d be her choice who she’d choose no matter what, no hurt fee fees over it. Maybe if we come at her with a multi-partner thing, 50/50 she agrees?”

“Kid!”

“60/40?”

“Stop it.”

“Damn 10/90?”

More splashing of water, waves of it crashing over your coverage and wetting your clothes. Practicing your breathing exercises, you mentally pumped yourself up to get it over with. One snap and bam, you’re gone.

“What if we show her our dicks first?”

“KID!”

“Whadd’ya say Y/N? Wanna check the goods before you sample them?” Kid couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Gods be damned. They all sucked.

Gathering the last ounce of dignity and lighting your roach, you jumped out from behind the foliage with your camera, looking to the side as you snapped the picture. Whether is was worthy enough to pass was no longer your priority.

“IT WAS A DARE!!!!” you screeched as your turned on your heel and bolted. You poor thing, you didn’t make it past 1 yard.

“Oh you’re not going anywhere, Y/N,” Kid taunted as Killer wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. His towel becoming loose and distressed from your struggling. Bringing you back to the hot spring.

Taking the camera, Kid tossed it in the water with the smuggest face a motherfucker could make.

“We showed you ours, now we dare you to show yours.”

#POV: you suck it up and submit - you know you want to #POV: you tell them to fuck off and push them in the springs and pray for mercy on your soul #POV: pass the roach and maybe they’ll go easy on you #eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid x you #eustasscaptainkid #swampstew bedtime stories #magnus' art

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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 8 months ago

Note

Hello! For your consideration, I was thinking of a Tech hurt/ comfort fic. The reader is hurt after a mission and Tech helps aid them. Maybe the injury isn’t close to being lethal, but it’s not good either. Ooo, I was about to say they’re in a relationship, but what if they are close but haven’t realized how much they deeply care until now.

By Your Side

Tech x Reader

Summary- During an escape from the Empire, you break your arm. Tech is quick to be at your side, fixing you up. At the intensity of the situation, feelings are revealed. DESCRIPTIONS OF BROKEN BONES!

A/N- Hi, honey! Thanks for requesting! I LOVE this prompt! Such a cute idea. <3 <3

Word Count- 1,549

SNAP

A gasp left your mouth, just before a scream. It took a couple seconds for your brain to register what had happened. You simply stared at your left arm, white peaking out on your forearm.

Another wail erupted, pain shooting up your arm. You left it in your shoulder as well.

The previous events finally caught up to you.

You were trying to redirect power in a crashed Imperial vessel. Cid had sent you all to get any valuables on the ship.

Luckily for you all, the ship was mostly abandoned. Plus, there was expensive equipment left on board that could be sold back to the Empire through a third party.

Hunter, Omega, and Wrecker had been headed back to The Marauder to haul parts of the medical technology back to Ord Mantell.

Things were moving smoothly until a fleet arrived. Apparently the Empire had also sent their own men to retrieve the equipment. Clones raided the ship, you and Tech struggled to stay unseen.

"Keep down." He instructed, you followed his order.

"Hunter, meet at the pickup zone. We are currently escaping through an air duct." Tech whispered through his Comms.

The position you were in had you flushed, crawling on your hands and knees was uncomfortable. Tech right behind you doing the same made you a little self conscious.

It wasn't a secret to Omega and Hunter that you liked Tech. Hunter picked up on your heart rate increase around Tech, and the way you grew nervous over simple activities with him. His heightened senses gave you away. Omega, on the other hand, had a knack for picking up your subtle blush when he talked on and on about something you didn't understand.

She teased you about it sometimes, and Hunter paid little mind. Wrecker was clueless, as usual.

"Are you okay? You're breathing heavily." Tech spoke quietly to you, concerned.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. Its just- its a tight space..." You responded, Tech hummed to let you know he heard you. Though, you doubt he believed your petty excuse.

The duct came to an end, a barred frame was the only thing blocking your escape.

You pushed at it, and when it didn't budge- you shuffled around and tried to kick.

"Not even a dent."

"I'll have to blast it, move behind me." He answered.

You leaned back, trying to contort yourself was a struggle in the small vent. There was no way to change positions without crossing over him.

"Sorry..." You mumbled out, flustered as your chest was soon snugly pressed into his.

He stopped moving for a moment, you both rested an inch from each other. "There is no reason to be. This was my plan."

You stuttered, "This?"

He let out a single breathy laugh. "Ah, no. Escaping through the air duct. Our predicament is only a consequence of that decision. Therefore, this is my fault. Not yours."

You gave a shy nod. As much as you would have loved to spend more time in your position, wasting time was not a luxury you had.

The two of you continued to switch spots, you were now behind him.

"After I blast it, the Imperial troops will be alerted of our location. We will need to be swift. Just follow me, I've been tracking our coordinates." He glanced over his shoulder when he spoke.

"After blast, run like crazy?"

"Sure. I guess you could put it that way." You smiled at his words.

You crouched down behind him as he pulled his blaster trigger.

It wasn't very loud, but enough for some kind of siren to go off.

Tech quickly crawled out, then waited for you to do the same. He grabbed your arm, pulling you up to him.

At that, the two of you took off. A few shots rang out, but nothing close enough to get you.

You were able to see The Marauder hovering above, peaking out of the tree leaves.

Maybe your mind was still hazy from the vent, or maybe you got cocky from seeing the ship.

Either way, when a blast was shot close to your feet it distracted you long enough to trip and fall...

"Tech!" You managed to gasp out, besides your screams. You didn't have to though, as he was at your side before you could yell a second time.

He didn't say a word, he was too focused on you. For once, he had nothing to say. His veins were struck with your screams. He'd never been so frightened in his life.

You found yourself propped against a tree, unable to walk. It seemed like you also did something to your leg. Tech was more concerned with your arm, though.

He held it gently, working steadily. It was incredibly painful, but you trusted him to know what he was doing.

Before you knew it, he had lifted you up with a strength you forgot he had.

In your pain stricken state, you did nothing but cling to the man holding you. He started to bring you to The Marauder as fast as he could.

You passed out before you made it, slumping into Techs arms.

Hours later you awoke, a dull throbbing in your leg and left arm. It hurt incredibly to move either, you sucked in with a hiss at the pain.

At the noise, Tech appeared at your side.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, eyes on his datapad.

"Not too good... My arm it-" You looked down at it, wrapped perfectly and tight in a white gauze.

"Yes, you managed to break where your ulna crosses your radius. I performed a minor surgery on it, with the proper care you will make a full recovery." He said, head still down.

You swallowed, what could be so important on his datapad. You apparently just had surgery and broke two bones! "What are you doing?" You tried not to sound passive aggressive.

"Checking your vitals. I am concerned with your risk of infection." He said, now looking up at you.

"Oh..." You felt silly now.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, Tech then reached for your good arm. He set the datapad down, his full attention on you now. He guided you to sit up.

"When you fell," He gently rotated your arm to be palm up. "Your arm was like this." He turned your wrist. With the lightest touch you'd ever felt, he traced the outline of your two bones on your forearm. "See how they cross? You were unlucky, just breaking the ulna or radius would be a much easier fix. We will need to stabilize both now."

He was referencing some sort of cast.

"I have it wrapped now, as the bone did pierce your skin." He said.

"Thank you..."

"Of course, you needed medical attention. I am more than capable of administering it."

You bit down on your lip, very careful to notice he was still holding your wrist gently.

"No, I mean. Thank you, for saving me..."

He released your wrist, resting his hand next to your thigh. "Oh, well, you are welcome."

It was quiet again. You sheepishly scanned the room, trying not to look at him.

"I was, I-" He took a deep breath. "When you screamed, I felt... I was..." He thought on what word applied best. "Scared."

You tried to reassure him, "I'm okay now."

"I thought you had been shot." He couldn't meet your eye.

You shuffled closer, as much as you were able. "Tech-"

"I've never felt like that before." He admitted, now looking at you.

You reached your right arm out, a hand on his cheek.

With your name leaving his lips, "You are special. I recognize that- that my feelings for you are more exaggerated than anyone else."

Your cheeks felt hot, you were sure they were colored. "Tech, I completely understand the feeling.."

"You do?" He questioned, almost like he was writing mental notes down.

"Yes. I feel the exact same way." You confessed. "About who?" He got slightly defensive, stiffening up.

With a suppressed laugh, you smirked. "You."

He clicked his tongue, almost as a 'Eureka' moment.

Your thumb moved up and down on his cheek. You were unsure what he was comfortable doing with the new information. Though, knew he'd stop you if he was put off by you.

At that thought, you leaned in. Your heart swelled when he did the same, your lips meeting. He was soft, slow, and full of meaning. He was still aware of your injuries. You, however, forgot the second your lips touched his.

It was all promptly followed by a gasp of pain by you, as the leaning put pressure on your leg.

"Oh, you also fractured your fibula. Perhaps we shall continue later." He ran a finger up your leg, showing you where it was. It was an innocent act, but your brain didn't care. You were red as a tomato.

His datapad beeped, he picked it up. "Are you okay? Your heart rate has significantly increased the past minute." He looked at you warily.

His lack of recognition of your embarrassment just made your heart beat faster. "Yes, Tech. I'll be fine..." You said, a laugh finally breaking free at his confused face.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @dangraccoon @knight-of-flowerss

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silcosfavgirl · 6 days ago

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SILCO NSFW HEADCANONS

꒷꒦︶꒦꒷✧꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷✧꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷✧

warnings: absolute filth.. i’ve never made a post like this before soo..wish me luck! 🙏

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

vvv this song is just one i imagine myself getting it down with him too 💔

• Silco is 200% into pain, neck biting, hair pulling, slapping.

• After hard days of work, when he gets into his office he expects his S/O to be prepared for him. ready to take him whenever and however he wants.

• He’d love to see you squirm in fear underneath him as he teases you, it totally turns him on

• Public sex? oh yeah. he wants all of zaun to know who you belong too. not full blown public sex. but teasing you in front of people. seeing you get so desperate for him even when it’s not appropriate to do so

• ALT! silco, would be more romantic, being gentle in bed, nothing like original silco, he’d run his fingers down your body as he kisses every part of you

• ALT! silco, would be nervous the first time, he’d always want it. thinking about every way he can have you, and every way he couldn’t. but actually doing it? ugh he’d be a nervous wreck

• He’d keep you under his desk, sucking his cock as he works, it mostly distracts him but keeps him from stressing out, and when he does, he’ll ball your hair up in his hands and face fuck his frustration out

• He has very good stamina, rounds after rounds. leaving your body hard of mobility, not being able to use your legs once he’s down fucking you balls deep into his desk

• Teases you ALL the time. he will

stop during sex just to see you beg for mercy, begging to cum. it fulfills his ego.

• Silco would LOVE grinding, you grinding on his lap while he works, whining like a whore in his ear while feeling his boner against your crotch.

• Degrading you would be something that he loves to do during any sexual acts, calling you a whore, reminding you how pathetic you are, even saying you’re only good for these acts, but during aftercare he praises you like crazy

• He loves to mark your skin, leaving hickeys, bite marks, and bruises, especially when they’re visible in public. showing who you belong too.

• When you least expect it he’ll come get you from behind, trialing his hands up your shirt to your chest, licking and sucking your neck.

• His cock would throb by just seeing you in a sexual manner after not having it for a while, so sexually frustrated to the point he’ll snap at any moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this is my first nsfw post so i apologize if it isn’t as good! but i would love some ideas! my ask me box is open for story ideas, head canons, ect! please feel free to pop in 💙🩷

#silco #silco smut #alt universe #arcane #league of legends #smut #18+ mdni

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 1 year ago

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Being in a relationship with the Fontaine Women

characters: Charlotte / Furina / Lynette / Navia x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: none, just fluff

genre: Mostly fluff, with a bit of comfort added in Navia’s part

a/n: I decided to leave out Clorinde bc I honestly don’t have any concrete headcanons about her, mostly because she was only there for like 3 scenes and said a total of like 2 sentences. I will write for her, but I still need time to read more about her.

I tried to keep this at least a bit headcanon-y, but you know me, so I decided to add a small scenario to every character’s part, mostly just one’s I felt served as good examples of how things might be and that I didn’t feel like I’d get the chance to write in the future.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Charlotte

With Charlotte, days on which nothing happened were rare. There always was some sort of event going on somewhere, and wherever it was, the journalist wasn’t far away, dragging you along with her. But just because you were there for work, didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy yourselves, especially with someone as energetic as her.

Trying to hold secrets from her, be they good or bad, quickly proved to be futile. She was a Journalist after all, so slowly digging up information to eventually figure out the truth was part of her being. That being said, getting informations through investigating always felt more rewarding to her than getting them served on a silver platter, so it quickly became routine between the two of you to give each other only a few hints instead of normally announcing news… something that, to the misfortune of others around you, quickly also seeped into your conversation with your friends and family.

“‘Man trips and falls down stairs at the opera house’? No, why would anyone read an article when they get all of the information via the headline?”, you suggested before quickly discarding your idea, causing Charlotte to sink further into her thoughts.

“Ooh, how about ‘Tragic accident at the opera house leaves man injured’?”, just as quickly as the words left her mouth, the two of you gave each other an energetic high-five before Charlotte continued to map the article out loud, only for a weird feeling to slowly wash over you… as if there was something important you were forgetting.

“Isn’t today the premier of that thriller you wanted to write an article about?”, you asked, only for Charlotte to stop talking in the middle of her sentence, her eyes widening as she quickly glanced towards the clock.

“You’re right! These clothes should be good enough for the opera house right? Ah, who am I kidding? Nobody cares!”, words began shooting out of her mouth in a panic as she grabbed you by the wrist and started dragging you towards the Aquabus, pen and notebook in her other hand.

…Somehow, be it by the grace of your Archon or Charlotte’s insistence the Aquabus drove at twice its intended speed, the two of you managed to get there in time.

Furina

The Hydro Archon had an… interesting way of showing her affection. The performance she liked everyone thinking was the real her too fond of the dramatic to do so in a normal way while the real her was too easily flustered to go through with anything fancy. And so, it inevitably became your responsibility to initiate anything even slightly romantic.

Just because she was nervous however, didn’t mean Furina’d drop her usual act and with the way she behaved and talked whenever others were looking could easily fool people into thinking your dynamic was the other way around.

There weren’t many moments in which the two of you had the chance to be alone in public, with the Archon either surrounded by a few of the gardes or swarmed by the citizens of Fontaine. So when you wanted to visit your home in the countryside, Furina was quick to decide that she’d indulge you with her presence, choosing to keep silent about how she was happy to leave the city behind for a day.

If Furina’s uncharacteristic silence wasn’t enough to make you feel like there was something wrong, the look on her face would have made any doubts in your mind dissolve. Just as you had opened your mouth to say something however, you were interrupted by the feeling of something grabbing your hand, all the while the Archon's face was slowly painted red.

“Are you feeling fine Furina? Your face is-”, you were quick to tease, unable to hide your amusement as it was all written over your face. Furina however, did not look up, quickly cutting trying to cut you off, only for her own feelings to be betrayed by a crack in her voice.

“The sUN- I- Thanks for your concern, my dear companion, but there’s no need to worry. I’m fine, just a bit warm, the sun is scorching hot today after all”, she quickly stuttered out before putting on her act once again, hiding her face by looking away from you, only to quickly find herself engulfed in shadow as you put a parasol over her, greeting her with a smile when she finally looked back at you.

As the way to your destination was once again filled with silence, your eyes eventually landed on a hill covered in rainbow roses, causing you to quickly drag Furina from your actual path.

“Where are you going!?”, she managed to ask, only shy away for a moment when you suddenly shoved one of the roses in front of her face.

“Be careful when taking it, it’s really easy to prick oneself's on their thorns”, you spoke with a genuine smile, only for it to quickly contort into a teasing one when you saw her blush even further.

“I should have brought a better parasol, this one doesn’t seem to be working”, you joked, causing Furina to fire back with some sort of excuse. You didn’t care too much, the sight of her scrambling to regain her composure was too cute for you to do anything but silently observe it.

The rest of your journey was rather uneventful, as was your way back. What was of interest for many citizens of Fontaine however, was the rainbow rose their archon wore for the rest of the week

Lynette

To call Lynette a romantic would have been enough to net yourself a serious defamation case. She wasn’t her brother, who did and said all kinds of embarrassing stuff while putting on a mask, so while the two of you may have been in a relationship, most normal people wouldn’t be able to tell. So while you shouldn’t expect to see her showing her love to you in broad daylight, that didn’t mean that you didn’t get any special treatment.

On days where there was nothing to do, it had gotten somewhat common for Lynette to come over to your place, using it as a place to recharge her batteries when there was too much going on at home. So as you silently sat on your couch, reading a novel you had recently bought, while Lynette laid next to you, with her head placed on your lap, eyes closed as she relished in the calm atmosphere, the sound of the door suddenly swinging open was enough to give you a small heart attack.

“Pardon the intrusion, but have you seen my dear siste-”, Lyney’s voice rang through the room before his gaze eventually landed on the two of you, eyes instantly widening. “Oh sorry, I didn’t know I was interrupting something.”

Just as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone, and while you liked to think that it normally took quite a bit to get you to blush, you could feel your cheeks quickly heat up. Was it because of his tone, his smirk or some weird combination of both, you didn’t understand, all you knew being that Lynette’s brother always found a way to make you feel embarrassed about even the most boring scenes.

“Should we-”, you quickly looked down at Lynette and began to talk, only for her to quickly finish your sentence for you.

“‘Try catching up to him’? I don’t think that’s necessary”, she stated matter of factly, her eyes not opening for even a split second before continuing to hum to herself.

“It seemed like he was looking for you, maybe he was just worried where you were?”, you asked, quickly getting a response in the form of a shake of her head.

“I told him I was visiting you. If I had to take a guess I’d say he was just passing your home and decided to quickly mess with you.” Her explanation made more sense than you’d like to admit, it wouldn’t have been the first time he decided to do things simply to try and get some amusement out of your reactions. However, you didn’t like the way Lynette made it sound like getting a reaction out of you was something that required so little effort.

“Sure it wasn’t you he was trying to mess with?”, you asked teasingly, only for her to finally open her eyes as a small smile found its way onto her lips.

“More than certain, redcheeks.”

Navia

Navia had always been easy to get along with. She was intelligent, funny and could single handedly lighten up the mood in any room, possessing an amount of self-esteem that was charming without coming across as her being full of herself. To use her own words: Who wouldn’t treasure having a partner like her. And while there were times her work as leader of Spina di Rosula kept her too occupied to see you much, she made sure to use her time with you to the fullest.

Was it eating at the Hotel together once in a while, or going on a walk around Poisson and Fontaine, taking in what remained of its colorful landscape while simply chatting the day away. Whether the subject of your conversation held any importance or you simply joked around, didn’t matter. Having each other by your side was enough to make any day a good one in retrospect.

There was a time you used to fear visits to the cemetery with Navia. It wasn’t like you didn’t want her to be sad whenever you visited, it was her fathers grave after all, but seeing her knees grow weak as she tried her hardest to keep a brave look on her face made your heart sting as if it had been pierced with a knife. It had been that way each and every time, no matter if it had been a week after his death or two years… But not this time.

As the two of you arrived at the grave, you glanced over at Navia, fully preparing yourself for what you might witness once again, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. Instead, you found her silently smiling to herself and as you followed her gaze, your eyes eventually landed on a pair of candles placed next to the grave, causing your lips to form into a smile as well.

“Looks like Silver and Melus were here before us”, you noted, only for her to shake her head in response.

“Melus told me he wouldn’t be able to visit the grave until later… And well, you know Silver. I doubt he’s the kind of guy to light candles.”

Callas the Unfaithful no more. You might not have known her father that much, only seeing him a couple of times, but you had no doubt that the one who raised Navia would never have murdered anyone for any reason.

Before you had the chance to lose yourself in your thoughts even more however, you were brought back to the real world by Navia’s voice.

“You still have the flowers?”, she asked, only for you to carefully grab them from your bag and present them to her, handing her one before putting the other in front of the grave. “Thanks. I’m sorry, but could you leave me alone with him for a moment? I’d like to tell him the good news”, she asked only for you to quickly nod.

“Thank you, you’ve been a great help today. I love you”, she told you with a smile.It wasn’t like her usual, radiant ones, instead being much smaller, but it was genuine, and that was the only thing that mattered.

#furina #furina x reader #focalors #focalors x reader #charlotte #charlotte x reader #lynette x reader #lynette #navia x reader #navia #fontaine x reader #genshin x reader

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mutable-manifestation · 1 year ago

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Actual Scientists Jack & Maddie AU Part 4

Part 1 & 2

Part 3

Explaining The Papers (™) to Frostbite takes a While (also ™).

Though with no more imminent threat of “Vlad maybe finding out he’s the ghost king and becoming Insufferable (also also ™) about it” Danny was feeling a lot less stressed - Sam and Tucker, too, if the fact that they were actually drinking their tea now instead of just barely sipping at it was any indication - or they could’ve only just cooled enough to actually drink, the FF did tend to overestimate the level of heat they could tolerate just a tad.

Not to say that he wasn’t still stressed, given the whole “the Justice League is trying to summon ME” thing. But like. They were reaching out hoping for peace, not hoping to skin/dissect/exterminate him.

Plus they don’t know how to summon him; he figures he has time. Hopefully enough to get Frostbite’s advice.

And mostly to cool his own nerves, because now that he knows they did try to help and are helping the Justice League is Cool again! And they want to meet him!

Well, they want to meet the ghost king, but they already watched him! They thought he was a capable hero!

Danny isn’t really used to getting positive feedback, so being called “good hands” by Superman - Superman! The hero! The Alien hero! (well, one of them. Martian Manhunter is also amazing but he hasn’t complimented Danny in person yet so he doesn’t have any expectations for Danny to live up to. Maybe. Hypothetically).

The JL is so cool and they think he’s cool! Or at least capable! Except now he has to impress them not just as a hero but as a king?

Yeah.

Suffice to say, Danny is now a little nervous.

(And also maybe redirecting his nerves intentionally to be about the JL so he doesn’t have to breathe into a bag about being probably the only thing between the Zone and eventual total dimensional collapse because Frostbite was very ‘this is normal and okay’ about it but it’s eventual total dimensional collapse [ALL OF THEM] and it is Danny’s problem. But no, he’s just nervous about meeting the JL. Totally.)

Reciting pretty much his whole life story - well, the basics of his parents’ work and then pretty much everything from the portal onward - gives him time to untense, and honestly, getting it all out to a mostly uninvolved third party - one he likes and trusts - really is a weight off his shoulders.

He’ll never tell Jazz; the amount of I-told-you-so-energy she’d leech into the air would be unbearable.

Sam and Tucker tag in here and there too, and mostly take over when they get to the part where the GIW bought Fenton Works for a short while to try and destroy the zone. Danny winces at the memory of his behavior back then.

The explanation runs for longer than it could have, given the aside they make when they get to his parents’ theories.

Frostbite is quick to confirm the combat-as-a-positive-social-behavior thing, and it turns out Sam is right about how to tell the difference.

Of course, Danny thinks they were all trying to kill him the rest of the way, but then that’s not a concern most ghosts have, so Frostbite offers his own perspective.

Skulker wants to hang his pelt on a wall: clearly unfriendly.

Technus is just having fun - enjoying playing with new technology in the living realm and throwing Danny around/being thrown around. He’s a friend. The whole world domination idea isn’t malicious as far as he’s concerned, because damage to the living realm doesn’t mean much to ghosts. What do they care about the living? What is the value of a single world as collateral when weighed against the games of ghosts?

If Danny wants him to stop that, Frostbite tells him, he can just propose a new game.

Ember genuinely just wanted a powerboost from the Earth that first time, but her returns since are a gesture of friendship.

Spectra definitely hates him though. Which is good. He wouldn’t know how to feel if Frostbite had said that that whole mess was an attempt at friendship.

As for the thing with his parents, Frostbite compares it to winning a tournament only to find out the other participants lost intentionally. You haven’t really won a competition if the competitors were not competing.

Like going in for a handshake only to get a “too slow” - even more insulting if it’s the first “too slow” you’ve ever gotten - Tucker suggests.

Or like asking a parent to a hug and only getting a wave. Not even a high-five.

They each go through another three cups of tea before the story winds down, Frostbite doing adding little more than the occasional nod or noise of acknowledgement - barring the social combat explanation, of course.

It’s nice, Danny thinks, to have an adult that actually listens. Even if said adult is a dead yeti.

“You have given me much to think on Great One, Friends Sam and Tucker,” he says after the three of them finally run out of words, giving each of them a nod. “And soon, we shall have much more to discuss. First, however, it seems that I have a meeting to call. And you have living needs that require attending to yet. Eat, rest, and, if you would, return here… let’s say the day after tomorrow? Then we can begin to discuss the…issues. At hand.”

Back in the Specter Speeder, Tucker wonders aloud if “call a meeting” is code for yelling at the Observants.

Then he looks at his PDA and realizes how late it’s gotten - namely, past all of their curfews - and they promptly turn the conversation to getting their story straight (and three backups because they’re all feeling paranoid with how high-stakes everything suddenly became. Not that the occasional ghost looking to wreck earth wasn't already high-stakes, but the whole political aspect made it feel... different).

***

Danny is thankful it’s summer vacation at the moment, because the next morning is a Monday.

He doesn’t know how he’d manage school with his mind miles away wondering about things like “how to king” and “how to maintain the fabric of reality” and other totally normal, non-stressful topics.

Just normal high schooler things.

His parents are gone before he’s even up, leaving a note for him and Jazz on the kitchen table.

They eat a quiet breakfast together.

The whole house is quiet. It’s unnatural, he thinks, and the small frown on Jazz’ face tells him she feels the same.

They normally enjoy the brief lulls of quiet that their parents leave behind, but this is perhaps the first time they’ve ever missed breakfast - well, the first time they haven’t been in the house during breakfast at least. A welding torch, clanging metal, clinking glass, minor explosions, and excited shouting is the usual background noise of their morning meal - whether from the basement door or at the table itself.

This time, the silence is disquieting.

Even more so since it means that Danny could, at any time, be teleported somewhere. He really should have asked Frostbite about how that works before they left - they’d already missed curfew anyway.

After they’ve both finished eating, he takes the opportunity to fill Jazz in on the whole… everything.

She is, to put it lightly, Not Impressed.

“-s bad enough they let you fight Pariah Dark in the first place! You should never have been in that position! I know that you’re a capable fighter Danny, but you’re fourteen-”

“I’m almost fifteen,” he grumbles.

“You’re not yet fifteen,” she says, glaring into the distance, expression practically snarling. Danny thinks she might be imagining strangling an Observant, based on the… choice words she’d had for them earlier. “And they want you to be a king!”

Tucker chooses that moment to arrive, walking right into the path of where Jazz is glaring and freezing until Sam shoves him out of her way to close the door and drag him into the kitchen.

“Who spat in your cereal?” she asks, moving to sit and kicking the fourth chair out for Tucker.

“Whoever or whatever is responsible for deciding that a fourteen year old child should be king when there are no doubt numerous thousand-plus year old candidates who don’t have human lives they still need to attend to!” She bellows, throwing her hands up in frustration.

The trio exchange a glance while she takes a few calming breaths.

Danny kind of wants to point out that he isn’t a child, he’s a teenager. And she’s barely older than him.

But he does have some sense of self-preservation, even if there’s only so much self left to preserve. Heh.

Then she gasps.

“Danny! You’re still half alive!”

“Er, yes?”

“Maybe that’s why the Watching Wraiths didn’t say anything! Maybe you can’t be the Ghost King if you’re still partly alive!”

“But Frostbite said-” Tucker starts, only to be cut off by Jazz.

“Frostbite could be wrong.” She sniffs. “And even if he isn’t you there are millenia before it becomes a problem. The Zone can wait for you to graduate high school before it goes demanding things of you. Or longer.”

The words are decisive.

Still….

“The Justice League-”

“Can cope. They’ll be a little paranoid about retaliation, but a little paranoia won’t kill them. And maybe letting them stew a bit will teach them to be more active about taking down genocidal organizations before they hurt so many people.”

“That’s a great idea,” Sam says, tone saying the opposite, “except the part where they’re actively working on figuring out how to summon the ghost king - who is Danny - and are probably also going to try and make contact with Phantom at some point - who is also Danny.”

Jazz frowns.

“Well. You don’t have to be a king to talk to the Justice League. Just tell them you’re still too young - which is true - or that the coronation is going to take a long time to plan - which, according to Frostbite, would be a reasonable claim. And also true since you will not be taking the throne until you are at least 18 if the Fenton Peeler and I have anything to say about it.”

“Uh. I don’t know if the Peeler is the best idea. With your…aim.” Tucker cringes, shrinking back in his seat when her unhappy frown snaps to him.

Then she looks thoughtful.

“You know what. I’ll just use a specter deflector. You mentioned before how humans are ghosts in the ghosts zone; see if they still feel like making a child a king when they’ve got an unstrikable target punching their lights out about it.”

“Please don’t antagonize a bunch of ghosts who could try and attack you while you're sleeping,” Danny pleads.

“It’s bad enough that all this has impacted your sleep and grades and attendance records so much; I’m not going to let a bunch of ghost nobles - or whatever they’re called - mess things up for you even more. If they don’t like my proposals they can un-friendly fight me about it, and if you’re worried about retribution I can turn on the house defenses in my room when I sleep. But I am not letting this go.”

She stands.

“Since he didn’t give you a time, we’ll leave to visit Frostbite after breakfast tomorrow-”

“We?” the trio ask hesitantly.

“Of course. But for now, there’s something else we need to do, little brother.”

That said, she turns and heads for the basement.

Danny and Tucker blink at the abrupt departure, while Sam just frowns thoughtfully.

The three exchange one more meaningful glance, before sharing a shrug and moving to follow her.

They arrive in the basement to Fenton Fighting Ring rising out of the floor.

“Uh, Jazz?” Danny tries.

“We’re going to fight!”

In stark contrast to both her words and her furious demeanor upstairs, her tone and expression are bright and eager.

“Um. That’s. Nice, but you know that’s a ghost thing, right?” he offers hesitantly.

“I mean, I still fight with Dora,” Sam adds, the traitor.

“Thank you Sam,” Jazz starts. “But even without that example; you are part ghost, brother mine. That means fighting loved ones is a you thing. I love you, so of course I’m going to fight you.”

“Mom and Dad theorized - and Frostbite confirmed - that the fighting is a social behavior. Many social behaviors are also needs. Members of social species that are not allowed to socialize become stressed and their health worsens. Humans who don’t communicate with other humans for too long experience negative side effects, too little physical contact can lead to depressed mood and so forth,” she monologues as she moves into the ring.

“As you’re still half human, neglecting the social needs of your ghost half could negatively impact your wellbeing. Also. I’m your sister and I love you. If I could never hug you I’d be bummed. This is like the ghost equivalent of that. So. Square up, little brother.”

Danny is kind of touched, actually.

Still.

“...Don’t you at least want an anti-creep stick?” he asks, gesturing at her general lack of ghost gear as he slips intangibly through the ropes around the ring.

“Nope!” She says cheerfully. “For this match we’ll be doing no powers and no weapons - just basic human strength and skill. We can try other kinds of fights later.”

Danny pales.

“No way! You’re a 4th degree black belt!”

“9th!” she corrects, still cheerfully - and she clearly means well, but for Danny that smile is beginning to look like an omen of ill fortune.

“That’s even worse!” he cries. “I’m only a blue belt! Barely!”

“I ~told~ you you should’ve stuck with mom’s training,” she sing-songs teasingly.

He cringes, but takes a stance.

“Now let's see how much you remember.”

That’s the only warning he gets before she’s in his face.

His strength, speed, stamina, endurance, and durability are all completely back to baseline in human form unless he actively uses his flight to compensate, but one thing he notes as the fight draws on is that his reaction speed is still the same.

Even so, it’s painfully obvious just how beyond him she is in terms of skill.

Without any powers to fall back on, Jazz runs circles around him like it’s nothing.

His reaction speed means that he sees everything she’s doing and that he has time to bring his arms up, but he keeps lagging trying to recall forms and getting shoved around for it, the defenses he manages too poor to be of any use.

Other times he lags because he’s suppressing instinctual power usage.

And multiple times he accidentally, instinctively abandons proper stance all together, habitually falling into the stance of his usual “feral racoon” style of fighting - as Jazz had one called it - which isn’t much of a stance at all in a fight with no powers. Especially given how it's not made for someone fighting on the ground. She takes brutal advantage of every opening.

He’s on the back foot from the first second of the fight, and it’s obvious that it only lasted for longer than one because Jazz allowed it to, testing him.

It’s frustrating that he’s doing so poorly - he knows he’s doing poorly - but despite that, he really is having fun.

It reminds him of the training spars at the Far Frozen - restrained skill set, fight with defined boundaries and win conditions-

Aaaaand evidently he let his mind wander too much.

And Jazz noticed.

And flipped him.

He’s thoroughly pinned in short order and he cannot for the life of him remember how to escape the hold short of cheating with intangibility.

“Uncle,” he calls.

Jazz pulls him to his feet and ruffles his hair.

He squawks indignantly, but she just chuckles.

"Good fight little brother," she calls as she slips between the ropes out of the ring.

"Our hero," Sam drawls as he follows.

Danny just pouts.

"That was just sad, man," Tucker ribs. "And I thought your early ghost fights were bad."

"I'd like to you do better against the 9th degree blackbelt," he grumbles.

"Don't fret, little brother. You'll improve with time," Jazz says as she rejoins them. "Though we'll have to do refreshers of all the previous levels first, given the amount of skill degradation I just saw. But with regular practice you'll back to your previous level and more in no time!"

"Uh. Refreshers?"

"Of course!"

"That seems a bit overkill just for sparring. Couldn't you just...wear a specter deflector or something? Then I can just not use karate."

Jazz, for the first time in a long time, levels him with a very serious look.

"You said that the reason Frostbite can't be the king instead is because he can't beat you in an all out fight. You told me the alternative."

She grabs him by the shoulders and stares into his eyes.

"Danny, Vlad already made a way to shut you away from your ghost powers. Frostbite may be unwilling to end you, and I don't think Vlad would. But you and I both know there are ghosts out there who would destroy you in a heartbeat for that power. And if Vlad has that kind of device, someone else could get one too. Ecto-weapons can give you a leg up if you get sealed away from your ghost powers, but you'll also need the skill to use them successfuly."

She lets go and steps back, tilting her head thoughtfully.

"Even with the ghost powers it's probably a good idea; the crown and ring might power you up but so did the exoskeleton. Clearly they aren’t the only power-ups out there so you can’t rely on strength alone. Skill could be the determining factor one day. And you already said you had fun," she smiles. "Come on little brother, give in to the karate side."

He grimaces.

"Didn't you say you were gonna make the royalty thing a non-issue for like three more years at least," he whines, slumping dramatically.

She raises a brow.

"A blackbelt isn't made in a day."

"Ugh, fine."

He's actually looking forward to it, but Jazz doesn't need to know that. He's duty-bound as a brother to be as annoyingly contrary about sibling bonding as possible, after all.

When Sam asks if they'll teach her and Tucker as well, Jazz is all too happy to include them - best not to have only one sparring partner, avoid forming bad habits and all that.

Both girls dutifully ignore Tucker's protests while they hash out a schedule. Danny pats his shoulder consolingly.

#dpxdc

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genjispeace · 5 months ago

Text

Hate Me Sweetly - Genji X Reader

In which Genji and the reader get trapped in a closet together. The two tend to bicker on missions, and tensions rise in a small space.

tags: long, like seriously buckle in for this one, AFAB reader (mostly gender neutral but Genji does say good girl once), enemies-ish to lovers, I never really hated you, unprotected sex, rough sex, vulgar language, low-key a slow burn (they kissed on page 8 on my writing program), filthy but also sweet and soft (they're in loooooove)

side note: there is a moment in this where a man is threatening the reader. nothing ends up happening, but it felt like I needed to say that.

a/n: whew...hope this one was worth the wait. I am still sick, so it may not be my greatest, but I think this is actually my personal favorite of all i've posted hehehe hope you all enjoy it as much as I do <3

You hold your breath as you walk past one of the guards. He nods at you and you return a shy smile, hiding the majority of your face in your fake maid’s outfit. Being the only person at Overwatch that wasn’t often in the public eye, you’re usually the only option when it comes to sneaking anywhere. Like now, you are sneaking into a small side base that Talon has, hoping that you can retrieve data off one of their servers without making a scene. That sneaking, though, is often accompanied by disagreements from your team members. You have hardly any fighting experience compared to them, which means you are essentially being sent into a pit of vipers. You’re a gifted medic and fairly decent at working computers, but that’s where your experience stops.

“This isn’t a good idea,” a voice crackles over your in-ear device. Genji. He wasn’t a fan of this plan from the start, nor is he ever a fan of you sneaking into places. You grit your teeth and ignore him. He seems to doubt your capabilities in all situations, which grates on your nerves, especially considering how many times you have nursed his wounds and how many times you have successfully snuck in and out of places. You’re a valuable member of the team, which is something seemingly everybody except Genji can agree on.

“Ignore him. We’ve got your back,” Cassidy’s southern drawl echoes in your ear. You know they do. They hacked into the security cameras and can watch your move, and they are close enough to break in if things go south. You have full faith that you are safe in their hands, even if Genji doesn’t want you there.

The two men start to bicker through your in-ear and you tune it out easily. You make your way through the long hallways, your heels clacking on the tile floors. You pull at the hem of your dress, which was made to be a bit too short for your liking. It barely goes down past your butt, leaving the majority of your thighs bare.

“Stop adjusting. You seem nervous,” Reyes’s voice says in your ear. You heave out a sigh as you look up at the camera in the corner of the hallway. A quick glance around you reveals that you’re alone, so you bite out a whisper back into your in-ear.

“I feel naked.” You really do. Not only are your legs nearly bare, but the outfit cuts low across your chest, leaving the top of your breasts visible. It’s cliche, offensive even, but apparently that is how Talon likes their staff dressed.

“Darlin’, you look great,” Cassidy’s voice echoes again, and you roll your eyes. The two of you have been close friends for a while, so it’s not unlike him to jump at the first chance to tease you. You hear an annoyed sigh in your ear, which you think is from Genji.

“Shut up, Cassidy. Now isn’t the time for you to stroke-” Genji starts to snap, but Reyes quickly cuts him off.

“Enough. The security room should be at the end of that hallway on your left.”

You follow the instructions, carefully walking down the hallway. Your footsteps echo in the empty space, and you hate the way you start to shiver. You’re not cold, but the thought of it being nervousness makes you feel weak. You wrap your hand around the handle and start to turn it, Reyes telling you how to access the server in your ear. But, as soon as you push the door open, his voice fades away.

A guard sits in the security room, leaning back in one of the chairs. Your breath hitches in your chest. This room is supposed to be empty. It is supposed to be an easy-in easy-out job. The room, full of different screens and computers, is bright and jarring, but the only thing catching your attention is the rifle that the guard has sitting on the ground next to him. He is facing away from you, and hasn’t seemed to notice you yet. Maybe you could grab the rifle from him, but what would you do after that? If you shot him, it would be too loud. No, you need a different approach for this one.

“Get out of there,” Genji says in your ear. Of course he would want you away from it. He thinks you can’t handle just one guard. Maybe he’s right, but you want to prove him wrong. Maybe it’s that desire to make him eat his words that has your feet moving forward, crossing the large room until you’re standing next to the guard in his chair.

He finally notices you, and you can feel his eyes on you as you bend over and reach for the trash can under the desk. When you hear him let out a low whistle, your skin starts to crawl. Could you knock him out with this? Your grip tightens on the plastic bin. No, not strong enough. Distract him long enough to sneak your flashdrive near the main computer?

“If he touches them, I’ll-” Genji’s voice crackles through the in-ear, but static starts to shriek over it. You flinch at the noise, but pretend to push hair out of your face so you can turn it off.

“You’re new,” the guard says in a purr. You stand up, holding the small trash can in between you two, like some sort of barrier. He still sits in his chair, but he’s leaning forward now, his eyes tracing your face with intent. Once you’re standing, his eyes trace even lower and his gaze makes your skin crawl.

“Yeah. Just started,” you mumble. You point at a balled up piece of paper on the other side of the large desk. You can’t get to it without him moving, and you really need to sell this maid act. “Can I get past you?”

“Be my guest,” he says, but barely inches his chair backward. You frown at first, then realize what he’s doing. You’ll have to push past him, practically be in his lap, to grab it. You start to snap something out, but then realize, if you do that and lean back against the desk, you should be able to reach the computer well enough to put your drive near it. It has to be within a few centimeters for around five minutes to get all of the data. Can you even hold out for that long?

You have to. Straightening your back, you place the bin on the ground and step in between the guard and the desk, reaching for that damned piece of paper. You finally grab it, but before you can retreat, the guard scoots his chair forward and pins you against the desk. His dark eyes are level with your breasts, and he seems to be taking advantage of that. You fight back every instinct in your body telling you to hit him and run. Instead, you use your hand that’s not holding the paper to reach into your pocket and pull out the drive. You place it softly behind you, praying that it is close enough.

“Such a pretty thing. We don’t get many like you around here,” the guard coos, looking up at you. His eyes are dripping with evil and it has you shuddering under his glare.

“Sorry, I-uh-I’m not-” you whisper out, trying to free yourself from the trap he has you in. He backs up just enough to stand up, but it also gives you enough space to get away, until his hand wraps around your arm. You wince at the feeling of his clammy fingers squeezing against your skin, then he turns you around and pushes you against the back wall.

“You don’t get to come in here like that and not intend to do anything,” he barks out. His other hand has found its way to your hip, slowly inching upwards.

“I’m just trying to do my job,” you say, hating the way that your voice shakes. You force your eyes shut. You don’t want to see how he is looking at you anymore. His hand keeps inching upwards, nearly cupping your breasts.

“Oh, you can do a job for me. How about-” he starts, but his voice shifts into a scream. Your eyes snap open and your heart plummets in your chest at the sight. Blood spurts out of what used to be his hand, the thick red liquid painting your dress and your chest. You cringe at the feeling of it, warm and sliding down in between your breasts. You finally snap out of your daze and you look up, where Genji stands a few feet away, his blade now dripping with blood. He moves so fast that neither you nor the guard can react, and the guard’s throat is quickly slit. His body slumps to the ground in a puddle of his own blood.

“So much for subtlety,” Genji whispers, sheathing his blade behind him.

“I had that handled,” you say, but the way that your voice shakes says otherwise. Genji’s eyes widen at your words, and you wish you could see under the black mask to see the rest of his face.

“Bullshit. You-”

“Got the data, didn’t I? I would have made it out,” you cut him off. Your fear and shock slowly starts to evolve into frustration. You would have completed the mission without him.

“Fuck the data! Who knows what he would have done to you,” Genji snaps back, closing the distance between the two of you. His chest heaves as his voice rises. He comes close enough you can see the deep brown in his eyes, a color you find beautiful most of the time. Now, though, that brown is alight with frustration. The way he is looking at you would be enough to kill somebody, but you have never backed down from him.

“I am completely capable of handling this!” You scream out. Genji doesn’t back up, but he doesn’t say anything. He reaches up to your face and pushes onto your in-ear, turning it back on.

“-on your way. You’ll be outnumbered. Find a way to hide until we can get in,” Reyes shouts over the device.

“Fuck,” you whisper. At that, you hear footsteps thundering down the hallway. Genji wraps his hand around your arm and pulls you behind him, leading the both of you to a door you hadn’t even noticed before. He pulls it open and shoves you inside. It’s some sort of utility closet, with various brooms and other supplies scattered around. It’s small, barely enough to fit you, but Genji manages to squeeze in with you. He pulls the door shut and it clicks, leaving the two of you standing there, chest to chest, with nowhere to go. You can’t even try to back up. You can barely breathe with how cramped the closet is. A small light twinkles above your head, barely giving any light.

“What is your pla-” you start, but Genji clamps his hand around your mouth. You squeak in surprise at his touch, which is more gentle than you would expect from him. He seems to have better hearing than you, perhaps an advancement from his cyborg body, because you hear the door to the security room open after that. You watch Genji’s face with wide eyes as he listens to the men on the other side of the closet door. If they open that door, they’ll kill both of you. Genji’s otherwise soft features are hardened with focus, but you can’t help but shake. You could be dead in a minute.

The guards’ voices overlap and blend in your mind. You try to pick up on what they’re saying, but any hope of focusing on anything is long gone now. Is this seriously how you’re going to die? Locked in a closet because a mission went sideways? Your chest aches at the thought of it. It may be a cliche, but you have always wanted to grow old with somebody. Find your soulmate, if there is such a thing, and live life to the fullest with them. Now, that wish seems far away.

The guards argue about something, but their footsteps and voices eventually fade. The door to the security room slams shut, and you let out a deep sigh from your nose. Genji lowers his hand away from your mouth, but you stay silent. He doesn’t seem to want to say anything either, but his hand moves against the doorknob and twists it. The door doesn’t move. There is enough light above you to make out a slight frown taking place on Genji’s features as he pushes on the door again, but it still doesn’t give. In the bleak light, you can barely make out the features of the door. It seems to be some kind of industrial one. Not exactly the type that could be knocked down easily.

“Fuck,” Genji whispers. “Reyes, we’re locked in.”

“Fucking hell, Genji,” Reyes’s voice is in your ear again. “We’re locked out. We’re trying to get in, but we need more reinforcements now that the guards are alert.”

“So what? We just stay in the closet?” You say. Your voice is still quiet, like you’re still scared somebody will hear you. You hear a sigh from the other end before your commander speaks again.

“Yes. Stay put. We’ll work our way in. For now, turn your in-ears off. We don’t know what kind of technology they have. They might be able to scan for it.” Reyes sounds exhausted.

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, reaching up to turn the device off. Genji doesn’t respond to Reyes, but obeys the command and reaches up to turn his off. That leaves the two of you standing, your fronts flush with one another, locked in a dark closet in silence. At least you’re not dead.

You lean back, your head knocking against the wall. It could be worse. Definitely could be better, but it could still be worse. A soft sigh escapes your lips. Not being in imminent danger, you are finally able to properly take in your surroundings. The cramped closet smells like dust, but the smell of blood takes over. Your skin is sticky with it and it stains. Some of it has dried, but it still leaves red blotches along your skin. It’s a good thing you aren’t squeamish and work with blood, or you would be nauseous now.

“You okay?” Genji says. You snap up to see him watching you intently, his dark eyes searching your face. Are you okay? Hardly, but you also don’t want to seem weak to him.

“I’m fine,” you say, and cringe at how weak your voice sounds.

“Liar,” Genji replies. “Talk to me.”

“Why?” You snort. Maybe it’s being locked up in here, or maybe it’s the emotion from everything that just happened, but everything seems to be piling up. You’re afraid you’re going to snap if you stay like this without letting it out, but you can’t let it out to Genji. Not when he already doesn’t seem to want you on the team.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Genji says. His voice is soft and gentle, much like his gaze on you.

“We almost died,” you whisper out.

“That’s part of the job,” Genji says softly. Maybe he didn’t mean it in a bad way, but the way he already doesn’t seem to think you can handle it combined with those words is enough to snap the rubber band of your patience.

“I get it, okay? You don’t think I’m good enough for this. You don’t want me on the team. You hate me,” you yell at him. Your outburst seems to take Genji by surprise, because his eyes widen and his brows furrow. You let out a soft breath, then speak again. “Just forget it.”

“Hate you?” Genji mutters. He lets out a soft snort and you roll your eyes.

“Just forget it, okay? We could die here, and I’d really rather not have my last moments be spent arguing with you,” you snap out. His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t seem to back down.

“You think I hate you?” Genji looks down at you, his gaze now sharpened and fully on you. You can’t ignore how your heart beats harder under his stare. God, you’ve always found your attraction to him so irritating. You press your hands back against the wall, steeling yourself. The wall feels clammy against your hands, but it’s the only stability you have, other than leaning in Genji’s body.

“You obviously do.” Genji’s brows furrow at your words. His gaze drops, then his eyes widen. He snaps his gaze away, staring at one of the walls. It’s hard to see in the dim lighting, but you swear you saw a dusting of pink along his face. You frown at his sudden shyness.

“Your-uh-I think I must have nicked your dress with my blade,” Genji coughs out. You finally look down to see what has the ninja blushing, and a deep red takes over your face too. The top part of your dress is sliced open, showing your soft skin blotched with drying blood. You’re wearing a bra, but the swell of your breasts are still visible, still covered in blood. A sigh escapes your lips as you reach up to the fabric, trying to pull it together and cover yourself up somewhat, but it’s no use. Your chest is bare and covered in blood, and you’re locked in a closet flush with Genji’s front.

“Stop acting like a schoolboy. You’ve seen boobs before, haven’t you?” You mutter out. It’s going to be more awkward if he continues to refuse to look at you.

“Of course, I have, but that was by their choice. Not…this,” Genji gestures with what little space he has to move. It’s then that you realize just how close the two of you really are. Your boobs are pressing against his chest, just barely, but the contact is still there. Your cheeks turn even redder at that, and you force yourself not to think about how it makes your nipples harden.

“It’s fine. You can look at me like this,” you say. A small part of you wants him to. You want to see his reaction when he gets a good look at your state. It’s a naive part, though. Surely he wouldn’t feel anything, right?

“You sure? You may not believe it, but I am quite a gentleman,” Genji says, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“I’m sure. Or keep staring at the wall. I don’t care.” His head turns slowly, his eyes darkening as he looks at you again. You see a muscle in his jaw tick under the tight mask as his eyes drop lower, just briefly, then return to your face.

“You’re bloody,” Genji says, his rich brown eyes now locked with yours. Maybe he wasn’t interested, if one look is all he wants. You fight the urge to slap yourself. Now is not the time to think like this, especially about Genji, of all people.

“It’s not mine,” is all you can think to say.

“I know. My blades would never touch your skin. I’m angry I even got close,” he mutters, which makes you frown. That is the first time Genji has ever even hinted at being regretful to you.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you say softly. There’s a sudden tenderness in his eyes, one that you have never seen before.

“I could have.”

Genji seems to cut off the conversation after that, not intending to talk about it anymore. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, you with your head leaned back and Genji leaning against the side wall. You wince when something seems to poke you in the back, and lean forward to adjust how you’re standing. It’s an absentminded movement, but it pushes you further into Genji’s front. You didn’t know it at the time, but it created an unholy amount of friction against Genji. He groans out and rests his forehead against the wall. A groan you mistake for discomfort.

“Sorry. I think there’s a splinter in the wall,” you explain yourself. You continue moving, not realizing just how much you are rubbing up against him.

“Please refrain from moving like that,” he breathes out. His voice sounds shaky. You frown, but finally pull the splinter from the wall and flick it to the ground. Except, something else seems to be poking you now. It’s in a different spot, lower and in your front.

“Genji, move your blade. It’s poking me,” you mumble. Genji sucks in a deep breath as you look down, your eyes widening. You can barely see anything, but it doesn’t seem to be one of his blades pressing against you.

“That’s not a blade,” you whisper out, your cheeks heating up again. He’s…hard? His clothes cover it for the most part, so you can’t see it, but you can certainly feel it. You look back up at him to see his face the color of cherries. He pushes off the wall and looks down at you, his brown eyes blazing.

“I told you I don’t hate you,” he says. You stare back at him utterly dumbfounded. He’s…attracted to you? No, maybe it’s just the confines of the space. Nothing else. You start to reply when a loud bang sounds from seemingly far away. You jump, which only pushes you more into Genji’s front. There’s some sort of fight happening outside.

“Fuck. We’re going to die here,” you scream out. You turn to face the door, but Genji cups your face and forces you to look at him. He moves too fast, he always does, and he pulls his mask down and presses a kiss to your lips. It’s soft, ghosting, at first, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. You don’t.

You push further into it, letting him know just how much you want it. You feel him smile against your mouth before his kiss becomes more aggressive, more hungry. His tongue runs along your bottom lip and you whine at it, which gives him entry into your mouth. To say he kisses you would be unfair. He devours you. It’s like he wants to lap up every taste he can, in case he never gets the chance to do it again. Heat starts to flood to your core and you grind against him, but when the door to the security room slams open and shakes against the wall, the two of you pull apart. You pant against him, and he silently adjusts his mask, then unsheathes his sword. Feet stomp outside the closet, and you swear you hear a gun cocking. This is it. You’re going to die here. You get one last look at Genji, his gorgeous brown eyes, his angular face, his dark hair, just to take it all in. Then you squeeze your eyes shut. A tear rolls down your cheek. Is it going to hurt to die?

“They’re in here!” A voice calls out. You snap your eyes open. You recognize that Southern drawl. Cassidy. You try to call out to them, but your voice catches in your throat. You can’t help the smile that takes place on your features, and Genji presses his face against your forehead. He’s kissing you through the mask.

“Cover your eyes. I need to break this lock,” you hear Cassidy call from the other side. You reach up to do it, but feel Genji wrap himself around you and shift so his back is to the door. He’s shielding you from it. If something goes wrong on Cassidy’s end, it’ll hurt Genji and not you. You try to fight him, but he’s always been stronger. You feel Genji’s hands close around your ears, but the sound of Cassidy’s grenade is still loud enough to make you jump.

“Don’t turn around,” Genji whispers in your ear. Your back is to the door as he lets you go, but you do as he says. Perhaps because you’re too in shock from thinking you were dead to move.

“Cassidy, give me your shawl,” Genji says. The two start to bicker, but you eventually feel the soft fabric laced with the smell of gunpowder and cigars wrap around your shoulders. It goes down low enough to cover your bare chest, and that’s when it makes sense why he didn’t want you to turn around. Cassidy, and anybody else in the room, would see your chest. Maybe he is a gentleman.

You soon feel an emptiness behind you and turn around. The bright lights force you to squint as your eyes adjust to it. As soon as your eyes adjust, you notice Genji is nowhere to be found. Cassidy helps you walk, in case you need it, and Reyes leans against the desk with the drive in his hand. He gives you a curt nod, which is his way of saying “good job” without actually saying it. You feel a warmth in your chest at the silent praise from him, but it’s not enough to warm up the cold absence you feel now that Genji isn’t next to you.

Angela insisted on doing a full check-up on you as soon as you got back. She swatted Cassidy and Reyes both away, kicking them out of the room so she could make sure you were okay. Cassidy scowled at her and said something about his shawl, but the doctor slammed the door in his face. As a medic, you work under Angela a lot, so you know how serious she takes her patient care. There was no use fighting her, even if you did assure her over and over again that you were fine. She eventually discharged you, but not before giving you a loose shirt to wear back. As you were walking out the door, she even pulled you into a tight hug. You smiled at her, your heart warming. She may be your mentor, but she’s a damn good friend too.

You make it back to your room okay and, as soon as your door is shut, you strip off the extra shirt, then the torn up maid’s dress. The blood seeped through your clothes and onto your stomach. It’s dried and cakey now, a stark contrast to your skin. You crank the shower up and jump under the spray, letting it wash away everything. You have to scrub harshly against your chest to get it off, but the warm water soothes you. You’re back at base. You’re safe.

You stay in the shower until your fingers prune, and eventually hop out and change into sweats and a T-shirt. You stop at the mirror in your bathroom, which still has a slight layer of steam. Your attention immediately flies to your lips, and thoughts of Genji flood your mind. Did he kiss you because he wants you? Or was it just because he thought he might die?

There’s no point in fretting about it now, though. It happened. You wouldn’t take it away, and you hope he wouldn’t either. You open your bathroom door and step out into your room, the soft hardwood chilling your bare feet. The same ninja that was just in your thoughts sits on the edge of your bed. He looks up when he hears the door. His hair is wet, a few strands sitting on his forehead, and a cloth mask is on his face.

“You okay?” His voice breaks through the silence.

“I’m alive,” you say, walking across your room and sitting on the bed next to him. You’re not touching each other, but you could if you moved. You don’t dare, though.

“I’m sorry,” his head hangs.

“What exactly are you apologizing for?” You stare at him. Is he apologizing for kissing you? Your heart sinks. If he tells you that he thinks it was a mistake, your heart may shatter into pieces.

“Everything. Mostly my blade touching you.” His head still hangs, like he is refusing to make eye contact.

“Genji, you didn’t hurt me. It didn’t touch my skin. You-”

“I could have!” He shouts. The sudden outburst takes you by surprise, and he stands up quickly and starts to pace your room. “You think I hate you? That’s why I don’t want you on missions?”

“Yes,” you answer him honestly. He stops pacing in front of you, and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

“I don’t hate you. I don’t want you on missions because I don’t want you getting hurt. The thought of anything happening to you, of living in a world without you,” Genji starts, but his words fade and he shudders.

“Why?” Your head spins at his words. He’s always been so harsh about keeping you off missions.

“Because I love you,” he whispers. You almost thought you imagined it, but heat runs along your cheeks. Your gaze drops, but Genji tucks his hand under your chin and forces you to look up at him. “That’s why I kissed you when we heard the fighting. I thought…if I was going to die there, I wanted to be able to kiss you at least once first. That’s why I’m here now.”

“Genji,” you whisper, but his thumb grazing along your bottom lip stops you.

“I can walk out that door right now. We’ll pretend it was just heat of the moment, not that I couldn’t stomach the idea of dying without kissing you at least once, and we’ll move on. Or…you stop me.”

Genji still rubs his thumb along your lip softly, the touch tender and gentle. The air hangs thick between the two of you. He’s putting his heart on the line. No, he’s putting his heart in your hands. You release a soft breath, as you look up at him. His dark eyes are pleading, almost scared.

“Don’t go,” you breathe out. Your voice sounds like a plea, one that Genji is all too eager to fulfill. You start to rise to your feet, and he watches you carefully, closely, but you don’t miss the spark in his dark eyes. You reach up to his face, wrapping your fingers around the mask. He could stop you at any point now, it would take nothing for him to overpower you, but he doesn’t. You pull the mask off his ears and down, dropping it onto the floor.

For the first time, you can see under his mask in actual lighting. Pink scars litter his face, dotting across the skin. You feel him take a deep breath as you look at him. Is he really nervous?

“You’re…” you reach up and touch one of the scars along his cheek “beautiful.”

Genji smiles, a lopsided grin that takes up half of his face. Your stomach flips at that smile, and suddenly want to see it more often.

“As are you,” he says back. You cup his face, but don’t move otherwise.

“Can I kiss you?” You say. It sounds like a plea again.

“Please do,” Genji replies, and it’s enough to have you wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss you. Your lips lock and his scent fills your senses. Walnuts and fresh pine. His tongue darts along your bottom lip again, and you grant him entry easily. Your tongues intertwine and he takes over your entire existence. There’s nothing else. Just Genji.

It’s softer and more tender than the previous kiss. Something past lust, something more. Your heart thumps in your chest and heat spreads to your core as his hands find their way to your hips. He pushes you down against the bed, the impact making a soft gasp come out. He falls with you, refusing to break the kiss. When you whimper into his mouth, though, he pulls away.

“Don’t make noises like that or you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” he says. The low, gruff tone of his voice sends shivers along your skin and heat straight down to your core. He looks down at you with wild eyes, a deep hunger hiding under those deep brown orbs.

“Maybe I want that,” you match his voice with a low one of your own.

“I told you I love you, right?” He says, making you frown. Why is he asking that?

“Yes,” you reply.

“Good, because I’m going to fuck you like I hate you,” he groans out, then his lips are back on yours. It’s hard, aggressive, and starving. His fingers dig into your hips, where you know there will be bruises. His mouth leaves yours and moves to your neck, pressing harsh kisses along the skin. You whimper out when he bites you, which makes him growl against your skin. You feel his hands push under your shirt and you shudder at his touch on bare skin. His metal hand leaves a chill on your heated skin, but it only adds to the fire blazing inside you.

You don’t have a bra on, so when Genji’s hands ghost over your nipples you let out a soft gasp at the content. He continues sucking bruises into your neck and collarbone, but you feel him smile against your skin at your gasp. Your back arches from just his touch on your nipples, and you pray he gives you some sort of relief soon before you explode. He pulls away from your neck and pulls his hands out from under your shirt, and you whine at the loss of contact. In the time it takes you to blink, Genji rips your shirt off. Literally rips it, tossing the excess fabric away. He sits back on his heels and truly looks at you. Your skin is flush, your breasts moving with each breath you take, sweat beads along your skin. He licks his lips as he looks at you, and the motion is enough to make even more heat go straight to your core.

“So fucking pretty,” Genji mutters, then his mouth is back on you. This time, though, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. You gasp out his name as his tongue moves along it. His hand, the metal one, pinches the other nipple. He continues sucking and pinching, but uses his spare hand to push your sweats and underwear down. You help him out and lift your hips, pushing until the clothes are off your body. He moves so one of his legs is in between yours, his knee on the bed. He’s so close to where you need him, but so far away. You squeak when his hand digs into your hip and pulls you down, so you’re rubbing against his leg. Fuck. His pants graze your core, and it’s just barely enough friction to have you grinding down onto it.

“You gonna ride my leg?” He smiles against your skin. You try to bite back a response, but he takes your nipple in between his teeth and silences you. You keep grinding onto his leg, letting the friction rub against your clit and give you a small amount of relief. But it’s not enough.

“Genji, please…I need you,” you whimper. You know you sound desperate, but you don’t care. “Inside me.”

Genji’s grip on your hip tightens even more, blurring the line between pain and pleasure, and he growls lowly against your skin. He pulls away long enough to pull all of his clothes off, and it’s your turn to gawk. He’s all lean muscle in a lithe frame. The metal of his hand reaches up his arm, then there’s metal starting around the middle of one of his thighs. You try to gawk more, but he wraps his hand around your ankle and pulls, dragging you along the bed. You feel your breasts bounce with the motion and Genji’s eyes zero in on that too.

“Do you have any condoms or…?” Genji snaps himself out of his daze, but you shake your head. You’ve had an implant for birth control for years now.

“I want you, no barriers,” you say. “I want you to finish inside too, if you want.”

“Fuck…” Genji says, his eyes searching your body. “You can’t just say things like that.”

You start to say something back, but his hands on your thighs silences you. Expectation builds up inside you, and you finally feel his fingers rubbing at your core. He rubs slow, agonizing circles into your clit, but it’s enough to have your head rolling back. You’re already wet enough, and he pushes one finger into you slowly. You try to close your thighs, but a sharp smack against one of them freezes you. The fading pain melds pain and pleasure together, and it makes you clench around his finger.

“You like that? Does my pretty thing like it rough?” He mewls, slowly stroking his finger in and out.

“Yes,” you mumble in between ragged breaths. He adds another finger, but his pace stays slow.

“Good girl,” he coos, rubbing the spot he had smacked. He starts to pick up his pace, working you with just his fingers. Your orgasm builds up faster than you thought it would, his fingers bringing you to the edge. Your moans and whimpers fill the room, and your hands grip into your bed. Your skin starts to buzz, that familiar feeling building up in your core. Your legs shake, and Genji slaps your thigh again. He slaps the other one, curling his fingers inside of you at the same time, and it’s enough to make you fall apart. You cry out, your back arching off of the bed. Your heart beats in your ears and black dots your vision.

“Pretty when you cum, too,” Genji says, pulling his fingers out of you. He takes them up to his lips, dipping them into his mouth and tasting you off of them. You clench around nothing at the sight, begging for him to give you more. He smiles down at you, pushing your thighs further open so he can align himself at your entrance.

“Look at me,” he says. Your daze from your last orgasm is slowly coming down, and you’re able to focus. You lock eyes with him and as soon as you do, he starts to push inside you. Your mouth falls open at the stretch, soft whimpers escaping as you take each inch. His brows furrow, but his brown eyes stay on you. He wants to see your face as you take it all. And take it all you do. He’s not small by any means, and the stretch gives you a delectable sting.

“Fucking hell,” Genji says. He doesn’t move for a bit, letting both of you adjust. “How did I know your pussy would be fucking perfect?”

“How did I know your cock would be perfect?” You say back, which makes a smirk grow on his features. It’s true, he stretches you perfectly, melding pain and pleasure in the most delicate way. He starts to move slowly, and even then, each thrust has soft moans escaping your mouth. He starts to move faster, reaching up to intertwine your fingers together as he does. His other hand, though, does something less tender, as it wraps around your throat. It’s not a tight hold, just enough to keep control, as he thrusts. You clench around him with each thrust, matching his pace with your own.

“Genji,” you whimper his name out, like a sacred prayer. “Genji.”

“You gonna come around my cock for me like a good girl?” Genji says. You whimper at the sound of such vulgar language coming from his mouth. That, and the praise, of course. You nod, not trusting yourself to form anymore words. His hand leaves your throat and snakes down your body, his fingers reaching your clit. You scream out at the sensation of both, any little resolve you had quickly fizzling away. You toss your head back and scream out his name, your nails digging into the hand he’s still holding in, as your orgasm rocks through you. If you thought the first one was strong, it was nothing compared to this one. Your legs shake, electricity building through your entire body like a crackling live wire. Genji helps you through your release, never easing up on you. You hold tighter onto his hand as he continues to overstimulate you, his fingers still on your clit and his thrusts still quick. You pant out breaths as it comes down, but you can feel yourself continuing to clench around him. He lets out a soft curse, then groans your name. His thrusts come to a messy stop as he reaches his orgasm, his hand in yours tightens as he finishes inside you, the sensation making your legs shake. His head drops into the crook of your neck, the two of you panting against each other. His warm breath tickles your skin as he catches his breath. His soft and fluffy hair tickles your neck in a way that feels incredibly intimate.

“I love you too,” you say. It’s quiet, and you’re not certain he even heard it, but you feel him press a soft kiss to your neck. He pulls back and smiles down at you, that lopsided toothy grin filling your chest with warmth. His skin is sweaty, but it makes him even sexier.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, pulling out and helping you up. You try to walk on your own, but your legs are so weak that you almost drop. He catches you and helps you to the bathroom, where he grabs a washcloth and warms it in the sink. His touch is gentle and tender as he cleans you, a stark contrast to his roughness from earlier. Eventually, he finishes and helps you back to your bed. He lets you on first, then crawls on the bed and presses against you. You roll so you can lay your head on his chest.

“Genji?” You say softly.

“Hm?” “I like knowing that you don’t hate me,” you say, but sleepiness seems to take over your voice. Genji laughs, and your heart lurches. You’ve never heard a genuine laugh from him, and it’s a beautiful sound. One you want to earn more often. You start to doze off, listening to his heart beating in his chest and feeling him run his hand up and down your spine. You really like knowing that he doesn’t hate you.

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