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finelinefae · 9 months ago

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tongue-tied

synopsis: y/n has a stutter and harry likes to hear her talk

word count: 3.1k

contains: fluff, highschool romance, harry's a football player, popular boy x shy girl, brief mentions of bullying

a/n: happy soft girl Sunday !! I wasn’t planning on posting just because I posted the second part of the aviator a little later than I was meant to but I could resist putting this one out <3

. . .

“E-excuse me!” Y/N weaved her way through the mass exodus of students heading in the opposite direction to the lunch hall. She had tried to leave class a few minutes before the lunch bell to avoid the large groups of people but she had been so invested in writing her essay, she’d lost complete track of time.

She was running as fast as she possibly could to get to the library, knowing the person waiting for her wouldn’t get too impatient but she didn’t want to waste a second of their lunch break not being with him. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, her braids flying behind her and her knee-high socks falling down her calves.

Y/N barely registered the people around her, wondering where she could be going in such a rush, until her face collided with soft, grey fabric. Before she could even get embarrassed and profusely have to apologise for bumping into them, long arms snaked around her, hands clasping behind her back. She caught a whiff of his woody cologne and the floral fragranced detergent his mum always used to wash his school uniform.

“There y’ are, Dove.” He murmured, “I was starting to get worried.”

Y/N looked up and settled on those familiar green eyes she loved so much. She relaxed into his embrace, “Harry,” She sighed.

Harry and Y/N had been dating since they were fourteen. If it weren’t for the fact that their parents all worked together at the local hospital, they probably would never have met at all, although Harry liked to believe they were fated to be together so they would have ended up meeting each other some way or another.

Harry had always been popular at school. For one, he was on the football team which instantly made him a name within their year group. He was also very handsome for his age. Girls would whisper and giggle whenever he passed by in the hallways even those from the lower years. Despite the fact they had just turned seventeen, Harry could honestly pass for an almost twenty-year-old with how tall and mature he was.

Y/N was the complete opposite. When it came to her social life she was shy and not often one to make friends easily. She was part of the arithmetic club and had made a few friends there and in some of her other classes. She liked to keep to herself and struggled to talk in class not only because she was quiet but also because she had a particularly bad stutter.

It had developed when she started High School. She had been to multiple speech therapists to help her get rid of it and although it wasn’t as bad as it used to be, it still never failed to make her life all the more difficult than it already was.

A lot of the other kids liked to pick on her for it too. Whenever teachers picked on her in class and she’d reply, the rest of the class would start snickering, whispering in each other’s ears. She wanted to be invisible to everyone but it was her stutter that made her stand out.

When Harry’s family would come over to Y/N’s house for dinner, her parents would often force them to go off together whilst the adults spoke in the dining room. She remembered the first time she invited him into her room and how embarrassed she was when he saw all her comic books lying on the floor that she had forgotten to put away. But it eventually became the seed of their relationship, the common ground that allowed them to bond.

Soon Harry was inviting Y/N to his football games and up to his room every other weekend when she’d come over with her parents. They’d exchange comic books and talk about their favourite characters. Y/N was always apologising for her stutter whenever she’d ramble on for too long but Harry never cared, he loved hearing her talk.

Their first kiss was on her bed whilst their parents were in the room below them. Harry was the one to initiate it and Y/N hadn’t been expecting it so it was slightly awkward at first but then she got used to it and eventually all she ever wanted to do was kiss him. Every weekend, whether at her place or his, all they did was sneak around and kiss each other, giggling and falling in love all at the same time.

Now, three years later, things were still the same except they were older now and more in love than they were yesterday.

Wherever you looked, Harry was there, and Y/N was never too far behind. Students had grown accustomed to their relationship, and the bullying Y/N endured wasn't as severe as it used to be. Even teachers couldn't help but be enamoured with their young love — how fortunate it was to find love at such a young age.

Things were great, everything was great and Y/N had hoped she could finish her last year of High School on a high note. That was until she entered her English class on a Friday afternoon when the teacher announced it was time for their presentations which would go towards their final grade.

“I can’t Harry!” Y/N cried into her pillow after school, Harry was sitting on the end of her bed with his back against the wall as he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

“I know Dove,” He comforted her, already knowing the reason she was so upset over it.

“Everyone’s going to l-laugh at me,” She could already picture herself standing up in front of her class and everyone pointing and laughing at her.

Harry sighed, “Dove,” He shook her gently, “Will y’ look at me?”

Y/N hesitated before turning her head so her cheek lay against the pillow. Harry smiled and lay on his side in the spot next to her, their faces inches apart, “There’s m’ pretty girl,” He cooed, his heart hurting at the tears on her cheeks. He cupped her cheek in his big hand and wiped some of those tears away with his thumb.

“I-It’s not fair,” She huffed, “Why’d I have to have this stupid stutter.”

“Hey,” He frowned, “Enough of that hmm? Everything about you is beautiful, y’ know I love to hear y’ talk. Could sit here for hours and just listen.”

“But you’re d-different,” She whined, shuffling closer to him so she could hide her face in his grey jumper. Her stutter was rarely ever that bad in front of Harry which was why he was the easiest person she could talk to.

Harry laughed breathily, his hand going to her hair to play with the strands, “Would it help if I helped you a little?”

“How?” Y/N asked, her words muffled by his jumper.

“We could practise in the library at lunch, y’ could read me a few things and it might help your stutter.” He thought.

Y/N’s head looked up to his face where she could count every mole and freckle on his nose and cheeks. She couldn’t help but pucker her lips to kiss his jawline, “That’d be nice,” She murmured.

“Yeah?” He smiled, kissing the top of her head in return, “I only want to help you so if you don’t enjoy it or you’d rather practise alone then y’ can tell me,”

She shook her head, “N-No, I want to do that with you. I’d like it very much.”

So it became a daily occurrence, five days a week during lunch hours when Harry didn’t have practice, they’d sit in the library and Harry would pick out a book for them to read. They started with simple YA books with less complicated words.

“Good job, Dove!” Harry cheered every time Y/N finished a chapter.

“Wait I’m not done,” She huffed and then said the last line just for Harry to cheer for her again just as proudly as the first time.

Now that the day of her presentation was getting closer, they had finally made their way onto Classical novels which Y/N had come to despise.

They walked with their hands intertwined to the library after Y/N had bumped into him in the hallway. It was natural as they stepped into the library and headed straight to their table in the corner hidden away by two tall bookshelves.

Y/N placed her bag under the chair whilst Harry unzipped his to pull out the book they were currently reading. It was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, even looking at the front cover made Y/N’s stomach turn.

“A-Are you sure we can’t go back to YA books?” Y/N huffed, taking the book and opening it up to the chapter they were last on.

Harry laughed, “But you’re doing so well, Dovey.”

“I-it’s hard though and the w-words are so tiny.” She pouts, Harry can’t help but lean forward and kiss her.

“C’mon, jus’ a few pages and then I can show y’ something I got for you.” He tried to persuade her, knowing the surprise would be enough to win her over.

“Fine,” She sighs dramatically.

She read for five pages, Harry listening intently to every word. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke, stumbling over a few words here and there. He tried to hold back from smiling so much with how concentrated she was on each letter of every word. He thought it was adorable how her eyebrows creased and her hands gripped the book.

Eventually, she had enough, placing the book down on the table and closing it shut. “Good job baby!” He cheered, pressing multiple kisses to her cheek, “M so proud of you.”

Y/N giggled, “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry smiled and reached into the pocket of his blazer for the surprise he had promised her. Y/N looked down and saw a small, black pouch in his hand. He gave it to her, her fingers carefully pulling on the ribbon before pulling out the small item inside.

“It’s an anxiety ring,” Harry explained as she held the silver ring in the palm of her hand. He picked it up and slid it on his pinkie finger to show her, “Y’ can twist this band whenever you feel nervous, thought y’ could wear it on the day of your speech.”

He passed it back to her, Y/N narrowing her eyes to look at the spinning band which had a small inscription written on it, ‘i love the way you speak almost as much as i love you, your harry.’

Y/N’s eyes watered, unable to come up with the right words to say how much she adored it as well as the boy sitting in front of her. Instead, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Thank you,” She murmured, “I love it. I love you.”

Harry softened even more from her embrace, “I love you more, Dove,” He whispered.

Y/N pulled away enough to kiss his lips, she was thankful for the privacy they had in the back of the library since she was never that good with public displays of affection and all she wanted to do now was kiss him because she was so grateful for him being there all the time.

It wasn’t long before the day of her presentation. After school, Y/N had been working on a short essay. She was going to speak to the class about her favourite comic books and why she loved them so much. She had recited the words out loud to herself and Harry and even her parents, that she could probably speak it off by heart.

Harry and Y/N stood outside the school. Her English class wasn’t until the third period but she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate in her morning classes until the presentation was over. Harry was wearing his football uniform because he had a game against another school in the morning. Y/N had been with him after school as he practised for it, wearing his coat as she wrote out her speech on a notepad.

They stood side by side facing the school building as if it was some kind of beast they had to tackle, “O-okay,” She huffed, “I can do this,”

Harry looked down at her smiling and then reached for her hand, “You can do this,” He squeezed her fingers in encouragement.

“Good l-luck with your game today,” She grinned, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you, baby,” He spoke softly, “Y’ can tell me all about your presentation and how well it went afterwards.”

“Okay Harry,” She nodded, completely determined despite how nervous she was. She had spent weeks preparing, she couldn’t let fear get the best of her.

“Good luck kiss?” Harry grinned, cheekily.

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes and craned her neck to kiss his lips. Harry held her face in his hands, unable to pull away from her even when she tried to, “I love you,” He murmured against her lips.

“I love you too.” She sighed, blissfully.

When third period came around, Y/N stood outside her English classroom, counting to five in her head. She clutched onto the piece of paper where her speech was written out in gelled ink, spinning the ring Harry had gifted her on her finger. With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped foot into her classroom.

. . .

Harry could hardly concentrate during the football match but he was trying his best. His team were two points ahead and it wouldn’t be long before the game was over. Since it was the morning and the game was mostly practice for the two schools competing, there wasn’t a huge audience watching them.

He was glancing down at his watch every few minutes when he was supposed to have his eye on the ball, checking to see whether third period was about to start. All he could think about was his little dove and how nervous she was when they stepped into school this morning.

She had been working so hard on reading things out, even stopping in shops when they went to town together to read the labels on the backs of food containers. He fully believed in her and her ability to speak in front of the class even when she didn’t and it killed him not being able to watch her do it.

So when the whistle finally blew marking the end of the game, Harry ignored the celebrations with his team after they won the match and ran across the field through the entrance of the school. He raced up the steps, his football boots clicking against the crowd. He knew he probably didn’t smell the best and his knees were muddy from falling over but he didn’t have much time to think about it as he searched for Y/N’s English classroom.

“Y/N?” He heard the teacher’s voice call her name as he approached.

“A-Already? O-Oh, O-okay.” He could hear her nerves just by listening to her speak.

Harry was about to knock on the door but he hesitated, wondering if it would worsen her nerves if he was in the classroom watching her. He knew how much of a big deal this moment was for Y/N and he didn’t want to intervene or make a spectacle of the moment especially since he wasn’t in her class.

He lowered his hand and instead pressed his ear up to the door.

“H-Hello,” Y/N started, “My name is Y-Y/N and today I will be sharing with you m-my love for comic books,” Harry’s heart ached as her voice came out quietly.

“C’mon Dove,” He whispered, wanting her to do well.

Y/N cleared her throat and let out a shaky exhale, “A-As you can probably tell, I-I am not all that good at speaking. I s-stumble over letters and sometimes even have to replace words with o-others because my mouth t-turns into mash potato and I can’t seem to get t-the words out.” People chuckled and Harry’s heart began to beat against his chest, “T-That is why I love comic books so much because of the l-lack of words. Instead, there are pictures,” Y/N continued, her voice gaining strength the more that she spoke, “T-They tell stories without the need for p-perfect sentences or flawless speech.”

Y/N continued her speech and Harry spent the entire presentation with his ear pressed up against the door. He ignored the looks of teachers and other students walking past as a huge grin spread across his cheeks the more Y/N spoke in front of the class.

By the time she had finished, it fell silent before the class responded with a round of applause, “Brilliant work, Y/N,” Her teacher said.

Y/N felt like she was floating on a cloud as she left her English classroom. Even if her speech wasn’t perfect, she had done it and gotten through it all in one piece. As she stepped out, two arms snaked around her waist and lifted her off the ground, “Harry!” Y/N giggled as he spun her around.

“M so proud of you, Dove.” He kissed her softly, lowering her to the ground but refusing to move his hands from her waist.

“I-I can’t believe I did it, Harry!” Y/N almost squealed.

“Heard every word, y’ did so good, M so proud of you.” He rambled, unable to cease his admiration for her.

“You heard?” Y/N’s eyebrows creased, her lips pouting slightly.

“I ran here as fast as I could and stood outside to listen to you,” Harry explained, “Y did perfect, honestly, the best speech I’ve ever heard.”

“You really ran h-here to listen?” Y/N asked, still in disbelief.

“I did,” Harry smiled, “It was all I could think about when I was on the field.”

“Did you win?” Y/N asked.

Harry pulled her flush against him, “You already know I did baby,” He smirked, kissing her. Y/N smiled against his lips.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Harry murmured, “To celebrate.”

“And do w-what?” Y/N wondered, even though the idea of spending any time with Harry was always her favourite.

“Maybe go to the bowling alley and get dinner after,” He shrugs.

“O-oh and maybe we can stop at the comic book store on the way home!” Y/N said, excitedly.

“Course m’love,” Harry’s smile widened the more she spoke, “We can do whatever you want as long as I get to hear you talk.”

Y/N grinned broadly as Harry interlaced his hands with hers, feeling the cool metal of her ring against his skin. Together, they walked hand in hand down the hallway, Y/N unable to stop talking the entire time, while Harry hung onto her every word.

#softgirlsundays #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #fic rec #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic rec #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #one direction #harry styles writing #writing #fanfic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you

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bluemari23 · 1 month ago

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remember our touch || bangtan

summary: you try to push away your bad memories and your soulmates help you replace them with good ones.

pairing: idol!bts x reader

genre: soulmates, soulmarks, soulbands, angst, fluff

warnings: past depressed reader, bad memories, bad family, insecurities, anxious reader,

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

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You remember feeling so lonely, watching all of the couples in your family get together, dancing under the moonlight as another love song comes on through the speakers. Every wedding you could remember, after you were old enough, you always wondered if you would every find your soulmate, the person you were destined to be with.

Your soulmark showed up when you were twelve; you even remember the exact moment. You were in your advanced world history course, learning about the fall of the Ottoman Empire and the specific impact it had on North Africa when you felt the immense burning on your left forearm, directly under your palm over your main artery.

You remember crying out in pain, a sob breaking past your lips as you fall back into your chair, toppling back and hitting your head on the ground. You remember your classmates trying to help you, but your teacher’s words held everyone back.

“It’s the soul burn initiating.” You remember freezing, despite the burning pain, and moving your hand away from your forearm, only for a line of foreign letters to stare back at you, blacker than the night sky without stars shining down.

The intensity with which you stared at your soulmark was nothing compared to the loneliness you began to feel as more than one line of letters began to appear, the burning intensifying until you promptly fainted from the pain.

Then you woke up in the hospital, hooked up to fluids and receiving a visit from a Soul Specialist who specialized in multiple soul bonds. She was there to comfort you, to give you pamphlets and tell you how they identified your soulmarks to be Korean, that you were likely the youngest, given the intensity of the soul burn you felt when your marks came in.

You were a rarity, having multiple bonds. Three bonds were an uncommon occurrence, but having seven was a one-in-a-million statistic. Your mom was handed a card with her number on it, in case you felt anymore burning in your marks, or if one of them disappeared, which you wouldn’t know the significance of until you were nearly 16.

You remember the looks of disbelief changing to looks of disgust as you grew older. The way some family members would tell you that you didn’t deserve that many people to love you. That you weren’t important enough for it. And you remember the way your mother would defend you despite everything.

And you remember how she was the one to push you to find your soulbonds when you turned eighteen, fresh out of high school from your small little mountain town. It would take you another almost six years before you were able to meet them, the burning in your arm leading you to them; the black, slowly turning, silver soulmarks the closer you were to them in proximity.

You remember your first glance at two of them, in a shopping mall of all places. You didn’t get a glance at their faces, only at the way they also clutched their forearms, panic and alarm shown through their eyes as they looked down at you clutching your own in pain.

It would take another day for you to meet the rest of your soulmates and activate your bond. You couldn’t believe your eyes when you stared up at the faces of BTS, your soulmates, in the middle of their living room after you were taken home from the hospital after fainting at the touch of your first soulmate.

That was over two years ago and nothing could have made you happier than the way they looked at you; so much love and adoration in their eyes. You never would have thought you would meet them, but now you wish you looked for them sooner.

-*-*-

You couldn’t help but to stare down at the invitation again, lost in your memories of the last family wedding you went to with your mother before she passed away. You sat towards the corner of the room, against the wall as you watched the DJ play another love song and asked for all the “lovely soulbonds” in the room to get up and dance.

You were in the middle of the deepest depression you had ever experienced and couldn’t fight the amount of loneliness and despair you felt after coming back from yet another discussion of why your soulmates wouldn’t want you by one of your random great aunts. Your grandma had come and sat with you, held your hands and made you cry all in one sentence.

“Your soul was split into eight because the fates new how much love you had to give.”

That was the first time your view on your soulmates had changed, that you felt worthy of the names imprinted on your skin.

“What are you thinking about, baby?” Jimin’s asked as you felt his arms wrap around your middle, leaning his chin on your shoulder after giving a soft kiss to your neck.

“Just thinking about the last time I went to a wedding.” You whispered, still caught in your memories. Your soulmates new all about your history of depression and didn’t treat you any differently because of it.

In the words of Taehyung, “That just means we are meant to be there for you and give you all the love you deserve.”

And they did, every second of every day.

“Well, this time, you need to make time for seven soul dances, don’t you?” You could practically feel the grin on his lips as he kisses your naked shoulder, his hand messing with the top of your towel.

“Jimin, we don’t have time to mess around right now. Our lovely little soulmate needs to finish getting ready, as do the rest of us. We only have about an hour before we need to leave.” Namjoon makes his way in from the bathroom, catching you and Jimin by the dresser.

“Yes, Sir.” You and Jimin’s voices mesh together, mischievous looks aimed at your older soulmate knowing what the title does to him. The look in his eyes only lets you know just what punishment you were going to receive when you got back to the hotel later.

Once everyone was ready, you made your way downstairs to the reception hall, decorated in light blue and white almost resembling what Cinderella’s wedding would resemble. You held Jin’s hand as you walked up to the small table by the entryway, folded pieces of paper organized on the table with names and table numbers.

Your table was just you and your boys, the eight of you found yourself in the almost front and center, feet away from the long table where the bride, your cousin, and her soulmate would be sitting with their wedding parties.

You knew why. Despite your family’s belief before you found your soulmates, once they found out you were bonded to seven extremely famous and rich men, their views changed. Now you were the favorite cousin, favorite niece. The one they always called when something went wrong and they needed money.

“We could always just kidnap your grandma and go have dinner somewhere nice.” Jungkook leaned over and whispered in your ear, holding your hand so that you didn’t continue to pick at your nail beds. You didn’t even realize they were bleeding until he held them, using one of the napkins from the table to gently wipe the blood away.

The boys, despite only meeting your grandma a couple of times, fell in love with her the moment they met. She had slapped Jimin with her purse when he didn’t pull your chair out for you. Apparently, all the boys needed was to see Jimin get hit before they loved someone.

“Yeah, baby. Just say the words. Or even hit Jimin with your purse.” That earned Yoongi his own slap from the offended man.

As nice as that sounded, dinner with the loves of your life and your beloved grandma, you knew you needed to be here. Even if you may not have wanted to come in the first place. You needed at least one good memory from a wedding that wasn’t your own. You needed to fight your own anxiety and bad memories.

You needed to create new ones.

Jungkook and Hobi both held your hand as the ceremony proceeded, squeezing every so often when your own grip tightened with anxiety. Weddings were a source of anxiety for you as it was the one place where all your depressive thoughts stemmed from. Just having them here, holding your hands and whispering sweet things into your ear was already a huge help to you.

The real anxiety inducing moment was when the ceremony ended and the reception started, giving your family the perfect moment to rain down comment upon comment about your soulbonds.

“You know, we used to think her marks were drawn on.”

“I told her before that she would never meet her soulmates and now look at her!”

“We always used to joke that her soulbond was a prank by the fates. I mean, seven soulmates. That never happens.”

“It’s a good thing her marks were real, or she’d be alone after her mom died.”

That last comment was the last straw for you and your soulmates. Your older cousin, even if only by a couple of months, was always the one who started the jokes about your soulmarks. Even once dousing your arm in alcohol to “reveal the skin underneath”.

You could vaguely hear the DJ announcing a soul dance and then the soft beat of another love song when Yoongi’s cold voice broke through his scarily calm demeanor.

“Don’t ever speak about her mother again. Our soulmate has been through enough without you bringing in her mom as an offhanded comment.” Despite English being his second language, he was surprisingly good at coming up with amazing comebacks and defensive statements.

“Now, if you don’t mind, we’re going to go and dance with our lovely soulmate and shower her with the love and affection her family should have shown her.” Jungkook finished Yoongi’s words, his piercings and tattoo’s coming off incredibly intimidating to your religious cousin.

Taehyung led you onto the dancefloor first, right on the edge where your soulmates could stand next to you both. He cupped your cheeks, holding you close as he wiped away your slow-falling tears.

“None of that. I want your next memory of a wedding to be a beautiful one, filled with the love of your soulmates. I want you to remember our touch, how we held you close and sang into your ear.” Taehyung was passionate in his beliefs, and it was hard to shake his mind when he believed in something, no matter how powerful that belief was. It was one of the reasons you loved him.

You spent the rest of the reception being held and twirled on the edge of the dancefloor, experiencing the love you always dreamed of and wished for in the past. The touch of your soulmates keeping you grounded and reminding you what love was supposed to feel like.

#bts #bts x reader #bts headcanons #bts au #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #soulmates #soulmarks #soulmate au #soul bonds #bts poly au #bts polyamory #bts poly x reader #bts idol au #angst #fluff #bluemari23

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kissenturine · 5 months ago

Note

boothill,, gunplay. thats the thought,, if ur comfortable writing that ofc ofc

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃 boothill x m!reader — 1.4k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: gun play, slight chocking, boothill puts his gun in reader's mouth, boothill kind of bends reader over, boothill also makes reader jerk off, uh boothill kinda mean-ish, he pretends to shoot reader, aftercare is not written but it is given! lmk if i missed anyy :3

KAI SAYS: hello guys,, shorter than usual bc ive landed myself in the er due to multiple reasons haha (chronic hives, low blood pressure, fainting spells, dehydration, etc) and i miiight not be able to post until like next weekend maybe (?) so so soso sorry for the inconvenience aaargh, writing this in the hospital too... not dying tho everything super minor so!!

The first time you ever saw Boothill pull a gun was at a training centre. He said something about wanting to work on his aim, and so he decided to head there, late at night. No one else was there—just the two of you.

Boothill pulls out his gun, flicking a few bullets into the spinning revolver with practiced ease before he pulls the trigger. A loud ‘bang’ fills the room, followed by the sound of his metal bullets clinking to the floor after the shot.

“Well color me stoked.” Boothill grins, showing off his sharp teeth. “Seems I ain’t that bad after all!”

“Well, you were always good with guns, anyway.” You respond, returning Boothill’s grin with a smile of your own. He was indeed good with guns, and it was undoubtedly attractive.

Boothill’s hands spin the revolver, watching the metal clink. It was much too fast for you to see, so you didn’t know which one ended up landing. Boothill is quick to draw his gun again, smirking as he pointed it at you—straight into your chest.

“Boothill?” You question. “What are you—”

You are cut off by the loud sound of his gun shooting. Your eyes shut and you winced instinctively, your body tensing up for the bullet that was about to hit your skin.

…Yet it never happened.

Cracking one eye open, you peer at Boothill cautiously, only to find him gripping his metal abs, a roaring laugh rolling from his lips. “Oh, darlin’ you know I’d never shoot ya!” He laughs again, though this time it was softer. “C’mon, love, I’d never hurt ya.” He murmurs sweetly as he makes his way closer to you, his gun still in hand.

He presses the muzzle playfully against your chest, trailing it up and down your abdomen. Boothill’s smirk only widened as he slipped his gun—along with the hand holding it—under your shirt. He presses the muzzle right against your nipple, watching you shiver at the cool metal.

“Boothill.” You whisper firmly. “What’re you doing?”

He says nothing, only continuing to drag his gun against your skin, sending shivers of delight across your body.

Eventually, his gun finds its way to the hem of your pants. Boothill gives you a wicked smile before he uses his free hand to yank down your pants and boxers, exposing your half-hard cock. “Well, ain’t that a pretty sight.” He cooes, letting the muzzle of his gun rest against your tip.

“Jerk it for me, pretty boy.” Boothill says. You blink up at him, confusion filling your face.

“Huh…?” You question.

“I said.” Boothill groans, pressing the muzzle of his gun harder into your tip. “Jerk it for me, or else I’m gonna be shootin’ this pretty lil’ dick o’ yours.” Boothill wouldn’t really. You knew that. He said it himself. And yet… the fear that he would is still there, forcing small tears to well in your pretty eyes as you looked up at him desperately.

“O-Okay.” You comply, wrapping your hand around your shaft as you slowly start to glide your closed fist up and down.

“Good boy.” Boothill praises, and his voice makes your dick twitch against his gun.

You move your hand, squeezing as you get to your tip and rolling your thumb to spread your precum. You throw your head back, moaning loudly as Boothill rocked the muzzle of his gun in time with your hand.

“Look at ya.” He groans, his free hand going to squeeze at your throat. “Gettin’ off to my gun pointed at ya.” Boothill smirks, rolling the revolver again until the familiar ‘click’ sound resounds around the room. “Pretty thing, d’ya even know what this could do to you? Or are you too dumbed down already?”

“Stop teasin’” You whine, your hand's pace slowing as you turn your gaze away from Boothill’s. “Not that dumb yet…”

“Yet.” He repeats, removing his gun from your dick. “Think I can change that real quick, no?” A sharp laugh escapes Boothill’s lips as he suddenly hoists you up and off the barstool you sat on. He spins your body with only a smidge of grace as he lands you roughly on your stomach against the table, your ass now facing Boothill.

“Aeons, you’re so pretty…” He murmurs, his hands roughly groping the fat of your ass. “Can’t believe yer all mine…”

A whine slips from your lips, high and pathetic as your eyes flutter closed. “Yeah…” You whisper. “All yours…” You feel Boothill drag the muzzle along your back—sliding it under your shirt, before he pulls his arm up, tearing through the thin fabric. You shiver at the newfound cold, goosebumps prickling your exposed skin.

You hear the zipper of his pants as he pulls it down, pulling out his cock and tapping it against your clothed ass before he’s yanking down your shorts. Boothill traces a metal finger around your puckered rim, eyeing you carefully. “Such a cute ‘lil hole…” He whispers out breathlessly. “Can’t wait to fuckin’ destroy it.”

The instant Boothill stops speaking, you feel the tip of his metal cock push past your hole, stretching you out more than you could ever imagine—despite doing this with him before. “Boothill.” You moan out, eyes fluttering as you crane your neck to look at him—only to have your face pushed right back into the table by the shove of his gun against the back of your head,

“Stay still f’me, pretty.” Boothill groans, easing his cock into you. The more he pushes in, the more painful the stretch is… And yet, the more painful it is, the more pleasure your body seems to derive from it. Boothill is only halfway in when you feel like you’ve been stuffed to your limit. A pathetic sound escapes you and you feel his gun press down harder.

Boothill removes his gun from you, using it to force your head to the side. He leans down, spitting a thick glob of spit all over the muzzle, smirking as it gets his gun all messy. “Open.” He taps it against your lips, making sure to smear his spit all over. Boothill’s smirk only widens when you follow, opening your mouth and letting his muzzle sit between your pretty lips. “Atta boy.” He whispers, thrusting with full force his cock into your awaiting hole.

“Boothill…!” You moan out, though it’s muffled by his gun pressing against the flat of your tongue. Your thighs tense at the sudden pleasure. A gurgly whine leaves your throat. “I can’t—”

“You can,” Boothill growls, pressing his gun deeper into your throat. His thumb goes to spin the revolver, making sure it lands on a slot with a bullet before continuing, “and you will. Ya know why, cutie? ‘Cause you're my good boy, and good boys take what they’re given.”

He sets a brutal pace after, thrusting into you relentlessly. It doesn’t matter how you plead, all Boothill does is press his gun further down your throat—until you’re sure your lips will bleed from the stretch. Eventually, his tip knocks against your prostate, sending you over the edge. Your dick squirts a load, all over the table and floor, yet Boothill doesn’t falter.

“Look at you, cummin’ like a slut.” He groans, and his pace seems to increase. He’s suddenly going harder, faster, everything that makes your head spin with the added overstimulation.

You cry against the gun, tears welling in the corner of your eyes. Boothill seems to enjoy the sight, leaning down to kiss softly against the back of your neck, his free hand wrapping around your waist and fisting your spent cock.

“That’s it…” He coos. “You think ya can give me one more?” His hand increases, matching the rhythm of his thrusts as he knocks into your prostate again and again and again. “C-C’mon, need t’do it together.” You nod your head eagerly, drool slipping from between the corner of your lips and his gun.

Boothill thrusts harshly, finally sending you over the edge for the second time, and you feel his metal dick twitch in time with you. Your eyes roll back, ecstasy overwhelming you as Boothill pumps a thick, sticky load into your ass, painting your walls white.

“You’re so good f’me…” He coos into your ear, sliding his gun slowly out of your mouth. With a familiar click, the resounding sound of a gunshot echoes throughout the room as he shoots his last bullet into the table—right by your head. “You’re always so good an’ pretty with my gun…”

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @helloanime @kiekole (send ask without anon to be added)

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queers-gambit · 10 months ago

Text

Lost and Found

prompt: ( requested ) you're just friends, but on your first night at Saltburn, you get lost in the vast halls and accidentally walk in on lover boy after a bath. he wants you to stay.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 3.6k+

note: this SHOULD'VE gotten slutty, but it DIDN'T because i'm back in the hospital and the LAST thing i need is a nurse walking in on me writing fucking smut - oh, my God, can you imagine? new fear unlocked!

warnings: RIP Queen Lizzie, cursing, sexual tension, emotions are hard, Lord's name in vain, depiction of mental illness (anxiety), author throws in a little personal detail cause writing is therapy.

"Honestly, who lives in a place like this? The bloody Queen, that's who. Her and all her fucking rooms! Jesus!" You grumbled, dipping down another winding hallway. "All right, this looks familiar, that's... Encouraging, right?" You frowned, glass of water in hand after venturing to the kitchen to fetch it - but now, you couldn't navigate your way back to your room. "Of course," you growled quietly, opening a door and finding a linen closet.

How silly, in a place like this! A fucking linen closet!

You huffed and shut the door, feeling incredibly awkward and terribly misplaced. You mind screamed that didn't belong here, you never should've set foot in a place like this! How fucking foolish you felt, like a silly little girl who was just excited her crush spoke to her, let alone invited you home with him for the summer holiday.

But it was Felix fucking Catton - certified enigma. He was all man with a boyish charm who smiled at you on move-in day at Oxford and sealed your fate. He was ridiculously nice, so very sweet, borderline annoying with his giving nature and kindness. He was loyal to a fault, intuitive, observant, admirably carefree, and so very happy to give his love to anyone who needed it. For a few weeks, you felt almost offended by his attention, wondering what kind of broken soul he thought you were; knowing he had an affinity for "damaged" or "broken" things.

At least, that's what his cousin, Oxford's registered and certified catty bitch, Farleigh Start, teased you about relentlessly when he noted the way Felix hung around you. Felix invited you out with friends, offered to study together, walked you to and from classes - even if his were in the literal opposite direction. You had no honest idea how the two were related, given Farleigh's constant attitude and Felix's overwhelming kindness, but that wasn't for you to understand. You just relished the attention Felix bestowed in-between your skepticism.

And here you are, your first night in his home, Saltburn, completely lost and totally turned-around! You didn't need water all that bad, did you? Granted, you had a several tablets to take that evening to maintain your health, but you could've used the fucking sink in the adjoining bathroom! You grew frustrated the more doors you opened, finding empty rooms or closets or another fucking library or studies or whatever! As if this home wasn't big enough, there were multiple levels and all you knew was that you and Felix were both located on the same floor with his parents above you and his sister and Farleigh beneath.

So, that helped.

But you still felt so fucking silly.

Seriously, who got LOST in someone else's home!? Fools, that's who!

Okay, okay, okay, you didn't need to be so hard on yourself, but you grew nervous and fearful for a reason you didn't understand. Your anxiety was planted in your stomach, festering, growing, taking over you to the point that you had tears in your eyes when you found yet ANOTHER fucking study!

"Oh, even the bloody fucking Queen doesn't have this many useless rooms, and she's a much bigger family, Jesus fucking Christ," you sneered to yourself - ready to give up and just sleep in one of the empty rooms. But you didn't want Duncan finding you in the morning, asking questions, forcing you to admit you were lost - you felt humiliated enough as it was! And that was without anyone witnessing this absolute mess you had made!

Well, not technically a mess - but you felt like a mess the more you crept around. And now, you felt fucking creepy - like some stalker, sneaking around the halls, trying to spy on this very nice family. You knew you weren't, but the feeling was still there - fucking anxiety would honestly be the death of you.

However, you came upon a familiar (enough) door that had a gentle light emitting from under it. With a sigh of relief, you suddenly remembered leaving a light on for yourself to return to; reaching for the doorknob, twisting it, and darting into the room while swiftly swinging the door close - but halting it to shut quietly as to not disturb anyone in the empty halls.

Yeah, anxiety was a bitch.

"Ohh-ho, evenin', love," a voice greeted, making you gasp, jump, and twist around. "Miss me that much? Heard the drain on the tub, didn't yah, had to come sneak a peek?"

Felix fucking Catton stood at the end of a messy bed in all his glory, running a towel through his wet curls. Nothing obscuring your sight, nothing hiding his manhood, nothing - literally nothing on his body except a shit-eating grin.

"Jesus, Fi! Fuck, I-I-I'm so - um," you gulped, trying not to ogle him, but failing (miserably) when beads of water rolled between the contours of his impossibly impressively sculpted muscles. "I just - you know, this place is so bloody big - um, I'm sorry - I just... Yeah..."

He smirked, nodding sarcastically, "Uh-huh. And you just happened to stumble into my room? Pretty good timing, too, wasn't it?"

You squeaked, "I didn't mean to! I swear - Felix, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to, um, yeah, you know - uh..."

"Like what you see, sweetheart? Why don't you come in closer, get a better look?"

You adverted your eyes out of respect and fumbled messily for the door handle. "Oh, sweet Jesus. Bloody house is just too bloody big, I got all turned around - just needed some water and I just - fuck, I'm sorry - "

"Hey, hey," Felix chuckled, wrapping his towel loosely around his hips so his V-line was still on raunchy display, "I'm only teasin', love. I know this place can get confusin' t'newcomers. I actually meant to grab you some water, know you gotta take your tablets."

You swallowed your embarrassment, sighing, "I'll just - yeah - no - I'll, um, just go - I'm so sorry, again."

"You know where you're goin' all of a sudden?"

You faced the door, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, shaking your head gently, "Well, no, but I'll figure it out - I left a, um, I left a light on, you know, to help - I don't know - uh, guide me?"

"You've not stuttered this much since we first met," he laughed, tugging a pair of boxers on for your sanity (and to your dismay). "I'm dressed, doll, you can look at me now. C'mon, bit weird talkin' to your back."

"We're not talking, Felix, I'm going to bed."

"Then why haven't you left yet?"

You blinked at the intricately carved door, realizing your hand was still on the knob, but it hadn't turned. "I didn't want to be so rude as to just walk out, mid-sentence!"

"Hey, hey, you're all right, darlin', I'm only teasin'," he grinned, hearing his bare feet pad over the ground before his warm hand wrapped around your elbow. "C'mon, love, hang with me a bit - 's not that late, is it?"

"Oh, so, Duncan can walk in? Make his assumptions?" You whispered, slowly facing him and leaning back on the door with a pout. His big, brown, doe-eyes stared directly into yours, making you feel under his spotlight - something akin to a privilege, since Felix Catton didn't bestow his attention on everyone. "I just needed water, I didn't mean t'get, you know, lost like this. Seriously, this place looks totally different at night."

"Surprised you even got this far, huh?"

"I looked in any room with an open door," you admitted with a small wince. "I felt so creepy, but I was all turned around - and you know, you shouldn't leave other lights on in rooms not being used. Terrible waste of energy."

"Awh, my sweet, environmentally-conscious girl," he cooed, hand raising to gently pinch your jaw. There was a serene moment, the pair of you just staring at one another, becoming acutely aware that he was still practically naked. "C'mon, don't leave yet, we can play cards if you like?"

"I've medicine t'take - "

"Right, right, right," he nodded, letting his hand drift to hold your neck in a gentle grasp. "Tell you what, you stay here, I'll grab your meds, and bring them back? You keep 'em in that li'l pink bag, yeah?"

"I don't know how to feel that you know which is my med bag," you narrowed your eyes playfully.

"Just shows I pay attention, don't it?"

"Maybe shows we spend too much time together?"

He kissed his teeth, grinning at you, "There's no such thing - in fact! I reckon we could double our time together and it still wouldn't feel like enough."

"Well, how's that help me later? I still don't know where my room is - oh, don't laugh!" You groaned, Felix snickering louder. "Fi, c'mon, it's not funny - this place is huge! Like, illegally huge!"

He cooed, "Oh, doll, 'M not laughing at you, promise. Just... You're not the first person t'get lost here, yeah?"

You scoffed with severe discomfort, "I really don't want t'hear 'bout all the other girls you've brought home - "

"Hey, now," he cut you off swiftly, "don't do that." He shrugged meekly, "There's been no others, just friends. Mine, Farleigh's, Venetia's... They've all gotten lost once or twice... Or that time we had to actually draw Reggie a map, poor lad got lost around every bend."

You rolled your eyes, "Truly expect me to believe that, do you?" Then you let your eyes widen a fraction, teasing, "Oh, wow, you really believe it! You really believe you haven't brought home other girls who you're interested in or who are into you?"

He crowded you into the door, shifting the room's energy to something sultry, making you hold your breath as his hand slid into your hair. "You know you're the only one, right?"

"You know that's absolute bullshite, right? Like, what a fucking line!"

He tisked, "C'mon, doll."

"Be honest, Felix."

His head cocked, "Want the truth?"

"That'd be a nice change of pace."

He scoffed lightly, "I don't give a single fuck if any of our previous guests cared for me - only you. Hear me?" He took the last step so he was stood with his feet slotted between yours. "I didn't bring them here for any other reason than friendly entertainment. You've seen the place, as big as it is, can get a bit lonely without anyone to hang with. But I asked you here... For different reasons..." He whispered, eyes jutting down to your lips as he kept a firm hold on you.

"And what reasons are those, Fi?"

He smirked, "Obviously... To kick your arse at cards."

You were flooded with pure disappointment. Raw, unfiltered disappointment that deflated your shoulders. "Yeah, right, like that would ever happen," you covered, nudging him a single step away from you. "Wanna be a gentleman and direct me to my room now?"

"Nope," he grinned, snatching your hand and yanking you away from the door. "You're gonna sit your pretty self right here," he nudged you to the edge of his bed, turning for his desk, then turning back to you to slap a deck of cards to your hand, "you're gonna shuffle these, and mentally prepare to get your arse handed to you at your own game."

You chuckled slightly, "Thought you hated 51 Rummy?"

"Only when sober," he smirked, leaning down to peck your forehead sweetly. "Sit tight, doll, I'll be a moment, yeah?"

You sighed and watched him exit the room, reaching to set your glass of water down and observe the room. In a moment of weakness, you pet over his sheets as if tempted to snuggle into them - and you were! You were cold from the lack of robe you meant to shrug on, and wondering the halls of Saltburn took much longer than you anticipated - now wanting to dive into the warmth you knew was left, the same warmth that Felix left on everything.

You jumped when the door opened again, Felix slipping inside with your little pink bag. His brows pinched, "All right, love?"

"Hmm? Yeah - "

"Your feet are nearly blue," he shook his head, handing you your bag before turning for his wardrobe. "Socks or sweats?"

"Huh?"

He turned, holding up a pair of sweatpants and socks, repeating, "Socks or sweats? Figured you're a bit cold in that." The left side of his mouth quirked up in a smirk, eyeing you in your sleep shorts and loose teeshirt that had the collar ripped out, showing a hint of cleavage.

"Oh, uh, socks, please."

He tossed you the socks, dropped the sweats, and joined you on the bed as you pulled the oversized garment onto your feet. "C'mere, get close, get comfortable," he chuckled, pushing his blankets down to sit in the sheets, waiting until you turned in the bed to yank the blankets up over both your legs. "Didn't shuffle? My naughty girl," he joked, reaching for the deck of cards and opening it. He offered a much softer smile, eyes darting to your medicine bag, and then focusing on the cards - as if to give you privacy to take your meds.

You did so quickly, insecure about the rattling bottles and the amount of tablets in your cupped hand, but never once had Felix made you feel bad about your needs. After swallowing them, you cleared your throat and turned to face Felix as he divided the cards for the game, nodding to his side table, "Paper's over there, doll, for the score."

"Sure you want me to keep score?" You asked softly, reaching for the pad of paper and spare pen. "Last time we played, you lost so very miserably, I was embarrassed for you. We can save your pride a li'l, not keep score."

"It's only polite to let the pretty lady win."

"Oh, tryin' to butter me up, are you?"

"Is it working?"

"I'll let you know."

Felix chuckled, leaning back to the headboard. Then, he asked softly, "You feelin' all right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, all good."

"Sure?"

"Why?"

"Hands are shakin' a bit."

You eyed him for a moment, changing the subject by asking, "How're you not freezing? Seriously, 's like the floors are air conditioned."

"Nah, just not cold."

"Your nipples say otherwise."

"Lookin' at my nipples, are you?" He grinned. "Now you're a very naughty girl, knew you didn't stumble into my room on accident!"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself!" You pushed his shoulder, but he leaned closer. "Felix - "

"You could just stay here," he offered softly.

"You got me for a game - "

"No, I mean, uh..." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head and readjusting so he was supported on one elbow, facing you. "Nah, nevermind, all right, so, back to the game - "

"No, wait, say what you're thinking," you encouraged softly. "Know I hate you doin' that."

"Yeah, you get all anxious," he nodded. "I don't want t'be too forward, all right? But... You know, we sleep together at Oxford. I-In the dorms, you know?"

"Yeah, and?"

"Just thought, maybe you'd wanna stay here? With me? If you want, won't make yah, sweetheart, just thought... You know, in a house this big, you wouldn't get so lost stayin' here... Maybe?"

"Oh, aren't you my hero?"

"I know, I know, I'm just tryna look out for you, my li'l lost love. And, you know, prevent you from finding our secret dungeon," he gasped comically.

"That's not even a joke 'cause I'd believe it in a place like this. Is it a dungeon for torture or sex?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Maybe I'd like to see it. Hm," you considered, "maybe I should stay here, you know - so you can show me around and go get me water when I need it. Save my toes from freezing off, wonderin' 'round here."

He grinned, "Yeah?"

"If it's not too scandalous?"

"'S not like anyone would care... Except me, you know? I'd... I'd like you to stay here. Like havin' you close, sweetheart."

"Well, maybe you could put some clothes on? You're terribly fucking distracting! I'm here to win a card game, and I'll be damned if you win 'cause your abs are... You know, staring right at me, you cheater," you grinned, turning to face him fully with your legs crossed, the space in the sheets open for your cards.

"I think you like me naked," he grinned. "I mean, you stared long enough."

"I was just caught off guard!"

"Oh, I'm sure," his grin turned wicked. "You're still staring, doll."

"Well, it's not as if you're quick to cover yourself!"

"You're not too quick t'look away, either!"

"I was - "

"Caught off guard, yeah, you've said," he chuckled, staring at you with those moony brown eyes that made you feel as if you were the only girl he's ever seen. "Maybe I liked you lookin'."

"Is that so?"

He nodded slightly, "Yeah, not such a bad thing. You're kinda the only one I want lookin' at me like that, anyway."

"You absolute cheesehead!" Your laughter was quiet, trying not to tip Duncan off to your antics.

"You know, they're not just for lookin'," he perked his pierced brow at you. "Feel free to touch whenever you want, too."

"Hm, always knew you were a slut."

He gasped dramatically. "Is that anyway to talk to your host? Especially after giving you refuge from the big, scary, confusing halls?" Your eyes rolled and reached out to pushed his forehead, making him rock back into the pillows and headboard - but he was quick to snatch your wrist as he fell. You were yanked across the slim space, pulled so you were directly resting onto his chest; forearms bracing against his pectorals. He grinned, caressing the back of your head, teasing, "'Ello, love."

"You're a fucking fiend."

"And you're so fucking beautiful."

"I'm already stayin' here, Fi, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

He hummed, "You know... If you were mine, you'd get this treatment all the time. I can't stop - you're just so easy to compliment."

Feeling bold, perhaps from being so close and him being nearly naked, you whispered, "Then maybe you should stop shuffling your feet, grow a pair, and ask me already."

He paused, the moment turning soft as you relax against his body; stretched out the length of him, but still remaining propped on his chest to look down at his sweet face.

"Was a bit afraid to, actually, love."

"Why?"

"Haven't felt like this with anyone," he admitted, "'s just so fuckin' easy with you. Organic, authentic, safe... I was afraid to ruin that, destroy the rapport and friendship we've established. I care about you so much, I just wanted you in my life - no matter what variation that was. Being just my friend, being my girl, just want you with me. Didn't want to jeopardize anything."

"Hm," you considered, nodding slowly, "I get that. Think I felt something similar..."

"So, what do we do?"

"I think we be adults about this," you offered. "If you just want to be friends, we'll stay friends, Fi, but we don't blur lines like we have been. And if you want to give this - us - a try, I think we could. 'Cause you're you, and I'm me, and if things don't work out, we can just go back. Right? Adults do that sorta thing, don't they?"

"Not entirely sure, don't feel like an adult most days," he breathed, petting his fingertips down your cheek. "But I know I want this, with you. I swear, since you came into my life, I've felt - " He paused, shaking his head with a growing smile, "Free? Elated? Light as air?"

"Mhm, I know the feeling," you repeated.

"We doin' this?"

"That's up to you."

"I think it's up to us, actually - "

"I mean, you've gotta ask, Fi, not just assume."

"If you reject me in my own house, in my own bed, doll, I'm gonna be fucking crushed!"

"Oh, my God, just ask me! You fucking knobhead!" You laughed, leaning your head on his chest. His other arm moved behind his head to keep it propped up, looking at you with so much adoration, it knotted your stomach. The hand that had been in your hair drifted down to keep a secure hold on your waist; fingers scratching in soothing motions.

"Wanna be my girl?"

"Hmm, I think you could phrase it better."

He grinned brightly, "Would you be my girlfriend?"

"Oh, that's a little too formal. Maybe try - "

"Oh, c'mere, you," he growled, swiftly using both arms to seize under your arms and literally drag you up his body. "C'mon, baby," he whispered, lips ghosting yours, "be my baby."

"Fuck, no, that's way too cheesy!"

"I thought you liked me cheesy?" He gaped, your hand petting his cheek now; shoulders straining to keep you upright, over him.

"Correction, I love you cheesy," you whispered, lowering your head to press a quick kiss to his lips. He hummed in relief, but you pulled back to promise, "I'd love to be your girl, Fi. Only took you the whole bloody school year, didn't it?"

"Hey, good things to those who wait, right?"

"Don't quote Professor Mercy at me when we're in bed with barely anything on, Jesus fucking Christ," you grumbled, unable to restrain your grin when he pulled you in for another kiss - but this time, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

Maybe getting lost in Saltburn was more beneficial than you originally thought, and maybe Professor Mercy and ages of philosophy was right because this felt like the absolute best thing, and you'd wait a hundred lifetimes if it meant having Felix in your arms - like he was now, kissing you like it was his lifeline.

How extraordinarily warm, you felt, to be lost in this world, in this extraordinary home, and found, by Felix fucking Catton.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x fem! reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton imagine #felix catton fanfic #felix catton fanfiction #felix catton fluff #felix catton saltburn #saltburn felix catton #saltburn felix #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn imagine #fix it felix #felix catton request

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ecoterrorist-katara · 6 months ago

Text

“Katara deserves a quiet life after the war, so becoming a healer (who made no contributions to the field) is actually a good arc!”

It is already bizarre to me that in ATLA, Katara is this confident & combative & ambitious girl who LOVED to fight and wanted nothing more than to help as many people as possible…then comics!Katara and TLOK!Katara showed neither her previous personality traits nor a career commensurate with those traits…

but it’s even more bizarre to me that ATLA fans would defend her trajectory as if it were some kind of progressive story of recovering from war trauma.

I’ve seen multiple takes like this. “Katara is not a YA heroine, she’s not a bloodthirsty girlboss who loves fighting so it’s actually a good thing that she doesn’t have to fight anymore” “after everything she’s been through she deserves a quiet life and a loving family”

For Katara, fighting in the war was actually empowering. It didn’t burn her out. It didn’t disillusion her. It didn’t take more out of her than she can give. Katara is not Katniss Everdeen, who needed to step back and discover her own agency and a sense of peace after fighting in a war she never chose to start. Katara’s war trauma largely happened before she took an active part in it. After she chose to be a part of the war, she became a waterbending master, made close friends, found her father again, got closure for her mother’s murder, defeated the Fire Lord, and met the love of her life. If Katara were a real person, maybe she’d be traumatized, but nowhere in the text of ATLA does she exhibit the sign that she’s tired of fighting on behalf of the world. If anything, she just got started.

If you take her post-ATLA arc at face value (vs as bad writing), it’s a tragedy of a woman who has learned to minimize her own relevance and her own power. In The Promise, she begins deferring serious decisions to Aang. She doesn’t even express a strong opinion about the fate of the entire colony of Yu Dao, or the fate of her friend Zuko. In North and South, she accepts Northern encroachment of the South in the name of progress. In TLOK we see her not as a politician or a chief, but rather as “the best healer” — albeit one who apparently never established a hospital, or trained acolytes of her own, or done anything to help people at scale, which she has always wanted to do. It’s even more egregious when you remember that in Jang Hui, she was not satisfied to simply heal the sick as the Painted Lady. She wanted to solve the root of the problem, so she cleaned the river and committed full-on ecoterrorism. Just because the war is over doesn’t mean she wants to stop helping people. In fact, the problem she addressed in Jang Hui is exactly the type of problem that would become more prevalent after the war ends, judging by the rapid industrialization between ATLA and LOK.

In the original ATLA, I think Katara is about as close to a power fantasy as you can get for a teenage girl, because she gets to be messy and goofy and powerful, even though she also had to perform a whole lot of emotional and domestic labour. But post-ATLA, she doesn’t get power and she doesn’t get to make a change. She gets love and a family. That’s it. And her grandkids don’t even remember her. Her friends and peers, on the other hand, were shown doing all sorts of super cool things like, you know, running the world they saved.

It’s not feminist to say that a female character deserves “rest” when she’s shown zero inclination that she wants a quiet life. Women who want a quiet life deserve to get it — I think Katniss’ arc is perfect — but women who want power deserve to get it too, especially when they’re motivated by compassion and a keen sense of justice. There’s nothing feminist about defending the early 2010s writing decisions of two men. Like just admit that they fucked up! It’s fine! Maybe they’ll do better in the future!

#katara deserved better #anti Kataang #I mean not really #I’ve said this before but Katara’s marriage to Aang is entirely compatible with her taking on roles of political influence #The only way this meta could be anti kataang is because KA shippers are remarkably uncritical of Katara’s arc #So it’s more #anti kataang shippers #Anti Bryke #pro katara #my meta

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

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𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻 | joel miller x reader x emmett

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | the last thing you wanted to do was make emmett jealous, or question your loyalty to him; but as it turns out, he may be a little more supportive than you expected when he catches you looking at joel miller.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 7.1k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut - 18+ only (threesome, established relationship, sharing/hotwife kink, daddy kink, oral m and f receiving, anal and DP, creampie, light choking, overstimulation/multiple orgasms, some very gentle/mild degradation, tons and tons of praise), implied age gap (not specified, obviously reader is an adult), takes place in the last of us universe but pretty much porn without plot lol so don't overthink it

In the last year of traveling with Emmett, you’d mostly avoided the QZs. He said that the people there were cheats and liars at best— and that’s to say nothing of the corrupt military leaders that actually ran the place. However, desperation puts people into positions they never expected to be.

After all, you would’ve never imagined being with a man like him, though in this case you meant it in a good way— that you never thought someone as brave and resourceful as him would want somebody like you.

But, that said, you made yourself useful when you could. The best thing you could offer was your medical knowledge, and you were always the one tending to Emmett after injuries or illness. Still, he promised that he loved you for who you were, not what you could do for him. He was shockingly gentle, and passionate, especially for someone who had been forced to be rather ruthless to survive in this new world.

So, while you had been avoiding the quarantined areas and sticking to abandoned strips of forest and city, a lack of food out there forced you to venture to Boston— or, what was left of it.

Fortunately, you'd found more hospitality here than you expected. Maybe it was just pity— and wanting some more of that ammo Emmett had sold him— but a man named Joel Miller had given you a place to stay and helped you earn some rations here so you could finally eat. He reminded you of Emmett in some ways: stoic, hardworking, and generous beneath that hardened exterior. But Emmett had become much more sensitive and open with you in your time together, and Joel was all but a stranger. Sometimes he was so stern that he almost seemed irritated with you, but he kept letting you and Emmett stay, so he must not have been too annoyed by you.

And, you helped him how you could— like when he was in yours and Emmett’s room, sitting in the chair and talking to Emmett about something to do with tomorrow’s open jobs, and you noticed a cut across his palm.

“I-I can help with that,” you offered softly, motioning to the injury. “Do you want me to bandage it for you?”

“It’s not that bad,” Joel shook his head.

“It’s easier to clean it now than worry about an infection later,” you reminded him.

Though he seemed a little tense, glancing at Emmett for a moment, he relented with a nod. You smiled lightly as you stepped forward and knelt by Joel’s feet, picking up his hand and examining the cut.

Once you figured what it needed, you quickly hopped up to rifle through your bag, bringing back a disinfectant wipe and a roll of gauze. Holding his hand open— and feeling a little flustered from touching his warm, rough skin— you carefully wiped up the cut. “Does it hurt at all?” you asked him.

“Not too bad,” he replied lowly.

“You should see Emmett when I’ve gotta wrap him up,” you giggled, “he always acts like what I’m doing hurts more than when he actually got the injury in the first place.”

“Hey,” Emmett warned you in a stern voice, but you smiled up at Joel who returned with a small smirk.

“Alright, all better,” you hummed as you finished bandaging Joel. “Let me know if it’s hurting you too much, that’s a bad sign. Don’t just ignore it and act tough, okay?”

Joel seemed a little uncomfortable— if not sort of amused by— taking orders from you, but he nodded. “I’ll let y’all get to bed now,” he decided as he stood up. “Sleep well. Lot of work to be done in the morning.”

“G’night,” Emmett offered him with a nod.

You felt a little strange, him standing up fully while you were still on your knees on the floor. “Goodnight, Joel,” you said, your voice sounding sweeter and girlier than you intended. Your face felt warm— you worried Emmett had noticed the change in your voice, too, but would he think much of it if he had?

Thankfully, he didn’t say anything about it that night, simply pulling you close when you got into bed, burying his face in your neck.

But the next night, that was a different story. You weren’t actually going to sleep yet, even though it was late enough for it— he’d already changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants, while you were still in your dress, but he’d laid back on top of the sheets and patted the bed, silently asking you to join him. You smiled and obeyed, of course, leaving the lamp on as you slipped in by his side.

Emmett held you gently, rubbing your back as you laid your head on his chest. “You’re not too tired, are you?” he asked quietly.

For what? you wondered, but just shook your head instead.

“We can stay up a little longer,” he decided. “Didn’t get a chance to hold you all day.”

“Yeah,” you sighed wistfully, nuzzling in more as you squeezed his torso a bit.

“Or talk to you much,” he continued.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” you asked, looking up at him from your head’s happy place on his shoulder.

“Just something I noticed,” Emmett replied, looking back at you sweetly as he brushed your hair aside with his fingers. "I think you've got a crush on Joel."

You froze, face getting warm in an instant. "I-I only want you, Emmett, I swear— you know I would never—"

"Shh, shh," he soothed as he chuckled a little, "it's okay, baby. I'm not angry with you… you're not doin' anything wrong."

"Really?" you asked nervously, and he nodded. "I thought you might be jealous…"

He shook his head and laughed a little.

"I-I just think he's handsome," you explained, "and sort of nice— but that's really it!"

"It's alright, baby," he purred, "cause you know something? I was talking to him earlier today, and he wants you too."

Your sat up and your eyes went wide as you tried to imagine that conversation. You could hardly believe that that was true, let alone that Joel has admitted it to Emmett… or had Joel approached Emmett about it, asking for a night with you? Oh god, your head already hurt trying to wrap itself around this…

"I know how hard it is to keep a naughty little thing like you satisfied," Emmett explained with a smirk, sitting up with you and speaking softly beside your ear. “I'm willing to bring in a little… outside help."

Just then, the door opened slowly and Joel stepped inside. You watched him, totally unsure how to feel, as he shut the door behind himself, and then his eyes met yours.

"C'mere," Emmett offered to Joel, patting the bed beside you two. "No need to be shy, Miller."

You watched as Joel took a seat on the bed, and you looked at Emmett as you lowered your voice. "You don't have to do this for me," you promised him softly. "You know I love you— I only need you—"

"It's okay," he soothed as he pet your face. "I told you, I'm not angry. I want you to do this."

"You… want me to?"

"If you want it," Emmett replied.

You shivered as Joel leaned forward a bit, reaching out to gently rub up and down your leg. "What do you think, princess?" he asked softly. "Don't worry, you're not gonna hurt my feelings if you say you don't wanna—"

"I want to," you admitted quickly, afraid to lose your courage if you waited any longer to say it.

Both men smiled at you as you looked back and forth between them; Joel's warm brown eyes against Emmett's steely blue ones… they were so similar, and so opposite, in so many impossible ways.

Without saying anything, Joel suddenly lifted your chin and guided you into a kiss.

You felt strange kissing someone other than Emmett, something you hadn't done in quite some time. Joel's lips weren't as soft as Emmett's, and his kiss wasn't as gentle; he moved his hand to the back of your neck to hold you close, gently pressing his tongue into your mouth. It wasn't too aggressive or anything, but it was certainly quite forward. Emmett's hands were still on you, gently rubbing your back, and you reached back to find and hold one just as your other arm wrapped around Joel's broad shoulders.

Joel made you gasp by breaking away to kiss at your neck instead; you squeezed Emmett's hand slightly. "Fuck, she sounds so pretty," Joel noticed when you moaned at his teeth teasing your pulse.

"Yeah," Emmett agreed. "She can get loud, too, so let's just hope she doesn't wake anybody up…"

Joel pulled your hand away from Emmett's and guided it to the bulge in his jeans; you sighed as you felt it, a hot feeling stirring in your chest. "See how you got me all worked up already?" he scolded you playfully. "C'mon and take it out for me."

Your hands were shaking more than you realized when you brought them to unfasten his belt… it felt new, and exhilarating, and a little scary as well, to be with someone new after so long. But you remembered when it was new with Emmett and it felt like this, exciting and weird and wonderful all at the same time. But you'd known Emmett longer before anything happened between you— you'd only met Joel a few days ago.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his erection. It was so hot to the touch, you were worried your fingers felt cold to him, but he didn't seem to mind much. You shuddered as you released it from the fabric, your mouth falling slack and your hand instinctively beginning to stroke it gently.

Joel's cock wasn't as long as Emmett's, but it was thicker, with a slight curve to one side. Regardless of exactly what it looked like, you were just amazed to see and stroke another cock but Emmett's— it had been so long, and you hadn't been with all too many people before Emmett anyways.

"Show him what you can do, baby," Emmett encouraged in a low voice, and you nodded as you leaned down to capture Joel's cock between your lips.

He hummed as you licked and sucked the tip, swirling your tongue over the head. But he groaned aloud when you dipped lower and took as much as you could into your mouth, letting the tip of his cock bump into the back of your throat.

Then you set your pace, hollowing your cheeks and slowly moving up and down on his length. Your jaw ached slightly already and you'd only just started.

You felt Joel's hand on the back of your head, not pushing you down but just guiding you in your movements.

"Mm," Joel praised with a grunt. "Your girl's got a sweet fuckin' mouth, Emmett…"

"Yeah," he agreed, "and she loves using it— gets her so wet, feel it."

You whimpered slightly as Joel reached back over you and pulled up your dress, slipping a hand inside your panties. His fingers curled through your lips, even toying with your swollen clit for a moment, and you moaned around the thick cock in your mouth.

"Damn," Joel chuckled, "she's soaked."

You broke away from Joel and turned around, looking at Emmett expectantly as you sat on the bed. "Can I suck you too? Please?"

Joel chuckled a little as Emmett nodded, letting you pull his pajama pants down as his hard cock bounced free. It was nice to get back to what you knew for a moment, and you didn't hesitate at all to take hold of him and lick a long stripe up his shaft.

Joel took the opportunity while you were facing away from him to toss up your dress and pull your panties down; he purred at the way the fabric stuck to your pussy, peeling off slowly with all the wetness there. "Fuckin' gorgeous," Joel groaned as he got a good look at it.

Two thick fingers rubbed over your clit until your toes curled; putting your head down in Emmett's lap to suck him sort of forced your hips up, nearly at eye-level with Joel, and feeling him explore you so gently made you feel exposed in the best way.

He slid one finger into your hole, just one, and you clenched down on him. "Damn," Joel groaned. "I don't know how you find the energy to do anything but fill this pretty little pussy of hers, Emmett."

But Emmett wasn't really paying attention to him— he was watching you with heavy eyes and a slack mouth, petting your hair as you bobbed your head on his cock.

"Just like that," Emmett praised you quietly. When you moaned around him in response, it turned into a muffled cry as Joel suddenly took his finger out of you and replaced it with his tongue. His hands held your ass and kept you spread wide for him, burying his face in your pussy and tasting everything his tongue could reach… which was a lot. Your whole body quivered when he licked a long stripe up from the base of your clit all the way up, higher and higher, even running over that hole as you shuddered.

Your moans vibrated through Emmett's cock and his hand in your hair tightened into a fist and tugged on you a bit. "Fuck," Joel moaned against your soaking folds, "tastes even better than it looks."

"Feels even better than it tastes," Emmett promised with a smile, though he snarled as he pulled your head off of him by your hair and guided you into a rough, dominating kiss. He all but threw you back towards Joel, and you were sort of dazed and moving on instinct as Joel turned you around to face him.

But as you leaned down to suck Joel's cock again, he stopped you with a hand around your neck. "Taste yourself first," he ordered before he kissed you, diving his tongue right into your open mouth as you whined at the tangy flavor of your arousal coating his lips.

He pulled you back from the kiss with a growl, holding your hair and examining your face— you must have looked fucked out already, panting through your mouth and looking at him as you waited for your next instruction.

“Was she always this desperate?” Joel asked Emmett, though he was still looking at you. “Or did you train her?”

“A little of column A, a little of column B,” Emmett replied with a light chuckle.

He shoved your head back down into his lap, guiding his cock to your waiting lips and groaning when you swallowed it down. “Good fucking girl,” he praised. “So fuckin’ dirty— damn, that tongue…”

You gagged harder on Joel’s cock when you felt Emmett toying with your clit, teasing you with slow and delicate circles that made your toes curl. “Wanna fuck her?” Emmett asked Joel simply; your hole pulsed in anticipation. The way they talked over you, like you weren’t even there, was sort of irritating: but it made you so desperate, and you couldn’t even figure out why.

Joel just laughed. “Are you kidding?” he wondered.

It was Emmett’s hand that pulled you off of Joel’s cock, but Joel grabbed your neck— not too tightly, just enough to make you let a whimper out of your open mouth— and flared his nostrils as he stared closely at your face.

“Get on your hands and knees for me,” he ordered firmly, and you nodded right away. They both let you go and you took the position, feeling a little shy again suddenly— like you had any right to be shy now. You faced Emmett, your hands on either side of his lap as he sat up on the bed, and he reached up to hold your face as you heard Joel get up and kneel behind you.

He teased you by running the head through your folds a few times, your lip catching between your teeth as the tip bumped against your swollen clit. Emmett studied your face closely, watching your mouth go slack and your brows knit together as Joel pushed just barely inside you.

And then you cried out, far too loud, because he shoved the rest of the way in at once. "Shit," Joel hissed, "fuckin' tight little thing. Fuck."

You could feel his gaze on your hole, no doubt watching himself split you open so wide, when his hands spread your ass open again for a better view.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy,” Joel awarded it with a sigh. “Fuck, feel how good you fuckin’ take that? Feel how easy this big cock slides right into ya? Such a sweet little girl…”

Easy was one way to describe it— and yes, you were wet enough that he hardly had any resistance— but it felt like too much to really be easy. You fluttered your eyes open, not even noticing that you’d shut them, and found Emmett’s gaze still on you. How was it possible that he was looking at you with so much pride in his eyes? You bit your lip and returned his stare, whimpering each time Joel thrusted roughly into you.

"How's it feel, baby?" Emmett asked you as he gently stroked your cheek.

You choked a little, not sure you could find the words for it. "Different," you managed to blurt out, and both men chuckled a little.

"Yeah, bet it is different," Joel agreed, "don't think I'm gonna be as sweet with'ya as your old man here usually is."

Well, fair enough: Joel wasn't in love with you, so why should he treat you the same? Actually, your thighs shook a little as you thought about that… Joel just wanted to use you, fuck you like a toy and toss you back to Emmett when he was done. It should've been demeaning, but it made your back arch a little deeper.

"Yeah, fuck," Joel praised, "she likes that. Wants me to fuck her harder, I can tell."

“Then do it,” Emmett instructed him.

Joel gripped your hips tightly and slammed into you, making you choke on your own cry. “F-fuck—” you stammered, suddenly gripping Emmett’s shoulders for stability.

“God,” Joel choked behind you; you could feel the bandage you’d given him as his hands held onto your hips, keeping you steady so he could pump into you as hard and fast as he liked.

You whined and dropped your head on Emmett’s shoulder, hearing him gently soothe you as each thrust rocked you forward into him. “Takin’ it so well,” he praised softly, “that’s my girl…”

Emmett started to push your dress down your arms and chest, exposing your tits for his big hands to rub slowly; Joel reached around and felt them too— and four hands on you felt like more than you could keep track of. A hand running up your thighs, squeezing your ass, teasing your tits, even wrapping around your throat and threatening to tighten… you were overwhelmed, in the best way.

"God, she's so perfect," Joel breathed. "Can't believe you let me borrow her."

"Just don't come inside her," Emmett instructed, "that's just for me."

"Fuck, I don't mind," Joel grunted, "think I'll like painting that pretty face…"

“She swallows, too,” Emmett smiled, “if you like that.”

“Like it? Fuck,” Joel laughed, “that’s fucking hot.”

“E-Emmett,” you whimpered in protest, “I never… I’ve never done that for anybody but you…”

“Well, it’s not so different for anybody else,” Emmett assured you with a chuckle. “You’ll swallow his come if I tell you to, won’tcha?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Good girl.”

That was all you really wanted— to be good for him. And you felt your chest fill with pride knowing he was happy with you now, even if you’d never expected this to make him happy. He could be very protective of you, and you assumed he would never want another man to lay a hand on you— he’d killed men for less, actually. But you realized that there was a massive difference: those men had threatened to hurt you, had scared you, had tried to take you from him. Joel was the first man other than Emmett that you’d trusted, let alone shown any interest in. Emmett was too busy fighting off creeps to mention that he didn’t actually mind good guys getting a chance with you, apparently.

Joel kneaded a handful of your ass roughly, and you whimpered when you felt one of his fingertips start to rub gently against your other hole. “What about this hole?” he asked with a groan. “This just for you, too?”

Emmett grinned a bit. “She’s only done that a few times… what do you think, baby, wanna let Joel try your ass?”

It was already quite an ordeal to get Emmett to fit in there, and you whined just imagining Joel trying to fit that thick cock in your ass— “Oh my god, she just got so fucking wet,” Joel noticed. Clearly, imagining it was having some effect on you. “Think she wants it— don’t ya, sweet girl?”

Though your cheeks burned with shame, you nodded, and both men chuckled darkly. “Warm her up first,” Emmett suggested.

“Of course,” Joel agreed, “wouldn’t wanna break your toy.”

You moaned just from him saying that, before he’d even started to gently press his finger inside you. He spit right down onto it as he slid the digit inside, making you clench around him— both ways. He hummed lowly, twisting and curling the finger into you, still fucking your pussy (though slower than before, thank god).

You gasped as a second finger carefully slid in, almost pushing you too far and making you wince slightly— but Emmett soothed you and kissed the side of your face, rubbing your back to help keep you relaxed. “You can take it,” Emmett promised, “be my good girl, okay? Let him get you ready.”

You nodded and clung tighter to Emmett, moaning when Joel twisted his fingers around and even curled them a bit inside you. “Not too much, is it?” Joel wondered when you whined loudly.

“No, she’s tougher than she looks,” Emmett answered— you sort of thought that question was for you, but you were too desperate to answer properly anyways.

Joel could pump those fingers in and out of you now, picking up the pace slightly to match the way he thrust his cock into your cunt, but when he tried to spread them a little wider he didn’t have much luck. “Still too tight, I think,” Joel noticed with a laugh. “Y’sure she can get stretched out enough for it?”

“Yeah,” Emmett promised, “I can help, hold on—”

He brought two fingers to your open mouth; you sucked on them instinctively, shutting your eyes and moving your head forward to swallow them as deep as you could. What Joel said before suddenly made sense— he really did have you trained.

You bobbed and suckled on Emmett’s long fingers, hearing him whisper his praises to you before he suddenly pulled them out— your open mouth chased after them for a second, and Joel seemed to notice with a small, condescending laugh— and reached over your back, pushing the slick fingers into your hole right beside Joel’s.

“Fuck!” you yelped at the feeling, legs shaking as you realized you’d never been this full: a cock and four fingers, it was more than you’d ever imagined.

Joel groaned a little, picking up the pace of his thrusts into your pussy again, and you did your best to breathe steady as those fingers pumped in and out of you. You couldn’t deny the way it turned you on— none of you could, you could hear it as Joel fucked you slowly. “She’s fuckin’ dripping, Emmett,” Joel noticed with a sigh, “she really likes this little ass played with, huh?”

Emmett laughed and nodded in agreement. “She likes doing what she’s told,” he clarified.

“Such a good little slut,” Joel praised, and you whimpered before Emmett kissed you again.

They continued that way until you worried you’d start begging for a cock in your ass if they made you wait anymore— thankfully, they didn’t make you embarrass yourself like that, Emmett felt with his fingers and saw in your eyes that you were ready. Pulling his fingers out of you, he glanced at Joel behind you: “Go ahead,” he offered simply.

Joel’s fingers left your ass, too, and you felt empty there but different— when his cock slipped from your cunt, you gasped a little at having nothing inside you for the first time in a while, and you glanced back at him. “Yeah,” Joel encouraged, “keep lookin’ back at me while I put my cock in your ass.”

You felt a little awkward doing that, but you did it anyways, biting your lip as he met your gaze and lined up his thick head with your stretched ass. He was still soaked from being in your pussy, and your ass was pretty much dripping with spit now, so he didn’t have too much trouble pushing into your puckered hole— but it was still tight, and you still winced (but kept your eyes on him, of course).

Even with all that prep, you shuddered and whined as Joel slowly slid into your ass— he savored every inch, licking his lips and groaning as he stretched you wider and wider. He seemed to just get thicker, even at the very base of him, and your eyes rolled back when he was seated in you all the way. And then he punched his hips just that little bit more, apparently intent on burying himself in you as far as humanly possible; you gasped and hugged Emmett tighter, turning your head towards him again but shutting your eyes tight from the sting of the stretch.

“God fucking damn,” Joel moaned, digging his fingers into the skin of your hips, clearly trying to control himself. “Fuck, Emmett, you’ve really got yourself such a perfect little fucktoy— where’d you find her?”

Emmett smiled wide, stroking your hair and looking at your face— painted with filthy pleasure— tenderly. “She found me,” he answered. “Still got no fuckin’ idea how I got so lucky.”

Joel started to move, making you tighten your hands into weak fists, and set a careful pace that gave you some time to adjust… even if not quite as much as you would’ve wanted.

A sudden, sharp thrust nearly knocked you forward— thankfully Emmett was there to catch you— and you moaned loudly. Emmett laid down slightly, letting you lay on top of him and hide your face in his chest. “That’s my girl,” he praised quietly.

As Joel’s movements sped up a little more, he sighed, seeming to find a comfortable pace (for him, at least) as you forced yourself not to tense up: it didn’t hurt, but it was certainly an intense feeling, especially when you felt Joel’s heavy balls slap against your dripping pussy.

"This'll be better than coming on your face," Joel grinned. "Filling up this tight ass, fuck, you're so dirty, baby…"

You felt someone move your hips down a bit, changing the angle of it all, but you were too lost in it to even know who it was. Emmett kissed your neck, teeth teasing your pulse, and you whined— you would beg him to bite you and leave a mark that everyone could see, if you could speak at all right now.

Your legs ended up straddling Emmett’s lap, and you gasped when you felt his cock press against your pussy— you'd been too distracted to even notice him taking it out— and he cooed at you sweetly. "You can take both, right?" he asked quietly. "You've always got room for me, don't you?"

Though you were still intimidated by the idea, you nodded as you bit your lip.

"That's my girl," Emmett praised, grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto his cock.

You almost screamed at the feeling of being so full, digging your fingers into Emmett’s shoulders. He looked up at you with eager eyes, watching you struggle to take them both— but you eventually relaxed enough to sink down and fit them both to the hilt.

“Good fucking girl,” Joel praised with a groan, holding on tight to your hips as he started to move again slowly— as for Emmett, his hands moved from your waist to your head to guide you into a sloppy, needy kiss.

Your moans were loud yet weak, your shaky hands clutching at Emmett desperately as they both pumped into you. Joel seemed almost overwhelmed by it, too, leaning down over you, growling and biting at your neck and shoulder.

“F-fuck, dunno how long I can last like this,” Joel admitted, “so fucking tight…”

You jumped slightly when one of Joel's rough hands reached around your hips and slid down to your clit, rubbing at the bud until you jerked back from the sudden intense sensation.

"Just wanna feel you come first, princess," he explained with a purr.

“A-ah, fuck,” you whimpered, shaking all over as you tried to process all that you were feeling. They moved you around how they wanted you, and at some point Emmett was sitting up and holding you in his lap while Joel kept thrusting into your ass from behind while holding your shoulder— how were you supposed to keep track of all the anatomy of this, while you had two big cocks stretching you open and Joel’s rough, experienced fingers on your clit.

Emmett moaned against your skin as he kept sucking on your neck, meanwhile Joel was speaking gruffly by your ear, sending chills up your spine. “Can you come, princess?” he asked darkly. “‘Round both our cocks?”

“Yes,” you admitted in a gasp, “fuck— Emmett, can I come?”

He smiled against your neck; “Of course, babydoll,” he breathed. “Let’s show Joel how much you love bein’ fucked like a whore.”

You wrapped your arms around Emmett’s neck, dropping your head limply back on Joel’s shoulder as the feeling washed over you: you tightened up everywhere, inside and out, and they both groaned as they watched you give in to ecstasy. You weren’t even sure whose hands were where anymore, but they were everywhere, and even through your exhaustion you felt desperation guide your hips to move on their own— chasing an even higher pleasure.

“Fuck,” Joel grunted as he watched you go, his own thrusts getting faster and rougher. “Fuck, that’s so cute.”

You didn’t expect him to describe you like that in a time like this, and you whimpered as your walls flexed again. You could tell Joel was getting a little desperate himself, that bandaged hand giving your clit a break and holding your hip tightly instead. “Come in her ass, Joel,” Emmett ordered with a sigh, staring at your face with heavy eyes, “she’s ready.”

He did it pretty much instantly, groaning lowly and tossing his head back with a sharp breath in through his teeth; you felt him flexing, and it stretched your tighter hole even just that much more. You whined softly at the feeling, hearing distantly little praises from Emmett, and finally Joel finished and pulled out of you with a little hiss.

It was less of a relief than you expected— your ass was still stretched and sore, and Emmett was still so deep inside you… and then, a moment later, you felt that hot trickle out of your used hole. You felt filthy with Joel’s come running out of you like that, tickling your inner thigh as it dribbled down— but the way Emmett was looking at you seemed to remove any sense of shame you had left.

"God, look how beautiful you are," Emmett grunted as he guided you to move faster in his lap, "men just can't help it with you, can they? Bet every guy in this town wants you, bet they're all thinking about having you to themselves— but you're mine, huh? My girl?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "yes, I'm yours— all yours, Emmett, always—"

"Gonna show Joel whose girl you are," Emmett promised with a growl. "Gonna get this pussy nice and full how you like it."

"Yes," you said again, a needy groan this time— the tip of his cock was hitting so deep inside you that you could hardly breathe, yet you only wanted more. "Yes, please, please— come in me, daddy."

"Damn," Joel laughed, "she is dirty."

Emmett grinned. "Only gets that way when she's real desperate. Needs her daddy's come so bad…"

“Please,” you begged shakily, feeling him pull you closer and start to buck his hips up into you faster; he was breathing roughly, quickly, and you knew that he was getting close, but he had a habit of holding back until he absolutely couldn’t take it anymore just so he could watch you like this for as long as possible.

Apparently unsatisfied with the speed and control he could reach with you on top of him, Emmett pushed you back down onto the bed, holding your legs and fucking you hard and fast— you cried out, arching your back as his hands slid up to hold your waist.

You gasped loudly when Joel unexpectedly leaned down and sucked on one of your tits; your back arched even further towards it, and you heard him moan against your skin as his tongue circled the hardened bud. Emmett's mouth suddenly found the other one, without his pace slowing down at all, and you could've screamed right then. You hadn't realized how sensitive they would be, and never in your life had you had both sucked on at once— it was so overwhelming, it was making jolts of white hot pleasure burst inside you, and fuck Emmett’s cock was filling you just right, hitting that perfect spot—

"I'm coming," you sobbed, "f-fuck, daddy, I'm coming—"

Emmett groaned loudly, his mouth falling slack around your breast as hot breaths fanned your skin. You felt him starting to flex inside you, and you moaned louder knowing he was filling you so deep. His grunts were in time with his deep, hard thrusts into you, and you went numb and tingly all over as the orgasm seemed to drain everything out of you.

Finally, he slowed to a stop, moving up to kiss you slow and sweet— both of you breathing heavily against each other, your shaky fingers reaching up to hold his face and run through his hair.

He broke away and sat up with a sigh; you wanted to kiss him longer, but you were too exhausted to even complain, simply relaxing against the bed and almost wincing when he pulled out of your sore cunt.

Emmett sat back and tugged your limp form up a bit, cradling you as he held your back to his chest. “Oh, look at that,” he whispered just beside your ear, reaching down to rub your thigh, “all’a my come running out of you… both holes nice and full just how you need… so fuckin’ pretty, baby, my pretty little girl…”

You just whimpered sleepily, soaking in the warmth of Emmett’s embrace.

"Why don't you taste her now, Joel?" Emmett suddenly offered him with a smirk.

Before you could process that idea, Emmett was holding your legs open while Joel dived down between them. You whimpered as Joel licked up through your folds, your whole body getting hot at the thought of Joel tasting you and Emmett. He really didn't mind doing that with another man's come? The idea that he might just be that insatiable for you…

He suddenly latched on to your clit and sucked hard, making you yelp and buck your hips— but Joel and Emmett were both holding onto you tight, keeping you steady as your body shook uncontrollably.

"Oh, that's it's," Emmett praised, "let him taste you, baby— let Joel lick that pretty pussy, okay?"

"F-fuck— s'really sensitive—" you choked out.

Emmett held you tighter, both hands groping your breasts and his fingertips gently toying with your nipples. “Bein’ so good for me,” he praised in a low, rough voice. “So fuckin’ pretty when you’re getting your pussy ate, babydoll— never get to appreciate it ‘cause I’m too busy doin’ it. But you look so fuckin’ cute like this…”

Your back arched, pushing your shoulders against Emmett's chest as he held you, and he trailed gentle kisses along your shoulder and up your neck.

"Gonna come, huh?" he noticed, pinching your nipples harder until you whined. "It's okay, baby, let Joel make you come. Just one more and you can rest…"

“C-can’t,” you choked, “can’t come anymore—”

“Shh, you can,” Emmett promised. “You can show Joel how good you are for me, huh? You can come when I tell you to.”

“Fuck,” you sobbed, grabbing onto Emmett’s hand tightly— though your other hand gripped a handful of Joel’s salt-and-pepper hair, making him look up at you with those dark brown eyes…

“Mhm, you can do it,” Emmett continued, squeezing your hand in encouragement. “Put your tongue inside her, Joel.”

You shuddered and quaked when Joel obeyed, the most filthy sounds filling the room while Joel lapped and sucked at your leaking pussy. Emmett’s hand— the one you weren’t holding onto for dear life— groped your tits roughly, pinching your nipples hard enough to make you buck your hips against Joel’s face, but Joel still had that iron-tight grip on your hips to keep you where he needed you.

Joel was moaning lowly against your skin, focusing his tongue attention back on your clit— from teasing little circles around it to hard, rough licks right over it. This time, when he went back to sucking on the nub harder than ever, you knew you couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Fuck, Joel!” you screamed, making him groan darkly again. “I’m gonna come!”

Emmett dragged his teeth over the shell of your ear, laughing softly yet wickedly. “You’re sayin’ his name now?” he noticed. “You’re not coming for him, baby, you’re coming for me. Because I told you to. Yes?”

“Yes, yes,” you promised, chanting it mindlessly. “Yours, Emmett— fuck, I’m yours, you know I am. Only yours.”

His hand moved from your breast to your face, turning it far enough to look at him— those eyes were boring into you, and you whimpered with your lip between your teeth as you hoped you hadn’t disappointed him. “Say it again,” he demanded.

“Yours,” you repeated as you looked into his eyes— even though your imminent orgasm made it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. “I’m yours, daddy.”

He grabbed your jaw and kissed you hard, his tongue keeping your mouth wide open; he swallowed every moan as you came, moaning himself like he could taste your pleasure in the kiss, holding your hand tighter than ever.

Joel kept eating you out even when your whole body was shaking, even when your weak little hand was trying to push his head away— he only stopped when Emmett’s hand joined yours, just one touch and Joel lifted his head and sighed.

Emmett guided your hand back up to his face, and you held it (with what little strength you had) as you kept kissing him… though the kiss changed, it went from rough and hungry to soft and slow and gentle.

He stopped kissing you just enough to speak, his thumb petting your cheek so you would open your eyes. “You did so good for me, babydoll,” he cooed under his breath.

Knowing you had finally done everything he wanted, you melted limply into Emmett’s arms, who chuckled a little at your exhaustion.

“Looks like you really wore her out, Miller.”

“You did, too,” Joel returned. “Besides, at that age, I’m guessin’ she’ll be raring to go again by the end of the hour.”

Emmett snorted. “I can get her begging in five minutes,” he countered.

“Please— m’too tired,” you whimpered, cuddling up tighter against Emmett— but his hand was already snaking up your thigh, teasing further between your legs.

“Too tired, huh?” he taunted quietly, petting closer to your sore pussy until your legs spread naturally to let him touch where he wanted. “Good girl.”

Two fingers delicately teased you, circling around your clit but never quit reaching it— until you were rocking your hips up to try to find some attention in the right spot.

When he did touch your clit, ever so gently, you shivered and mumbled his name; your eyes still closed, you hid your face in his neck and began to shamelessly rock against his fingers. He teased your opening, making it apparent how wet you still were, but never dipped inside no matter how hard you tried to tempt him to.

“Please,” you whispered, too desperate to feel guilty for it at all, “Emmett, I need—”

“Jesus,” Joel laughed, “didn’t take long at all, did it?”

“Nope,” Emmett agreed.

“So fuckin’ needy,” Joel groaned.

“Yep,” Emmett responded simply again. “Tell us what you need, babydoll…”

“I…I need…” you mumbled, face getting warm. “Need to be full…”

“With what?” Joel pressed.

“Um…” you stalled, nervous to admit it but knowing they wouldn’t rest until you did. “With a… a cock.”

Emmett snorted. “Any cock?” he wondered.

“W-well, I figured one of you two—”

They both laughed a little, and you felt silly but your walls tightened against themselves. “We’re not young like you, sweetpea— it’s not that easy,” Joel explained. “Gonna need a little more patience…”

“But— but you got me all worked up!” you whined. “You did that on purpose…”

“Yeah,” Emmett admitted with a purr, “yeah, baby, I did that on purpose.”

You pouted a bit. “You’re mean sometimes…”

“Mhm,” he agreed with a soft laugh, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Joel. “How long will it take you to get hard again?”

“Not that long,” Joel answered, “if she puts that mouth to good use.”

Emmett helped you sit up, patting your back encouragingly. “Go ahead, baby, you know what to do…”

As you crawled towards where Joel knelt on the bed, still totally dazed and exhausted, you realized that tonight was far from over— and that tonight may not be all that Emmett had in store for you.

#joel miller smut #emmett a quiet place smut #cillian murphy smut #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #cillian murphy x reader #joel miller x reader #emmett a quiet place x reader #WELP. this is filthy.

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sunfortune · 9 months ago

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hiiii i recently watched kanthony (the so called bridgerton show or whatever) and was wondering if u have any fic recs... 👉👈🤭

okay i litchrally have never compiled a list bc i have read too many to keep them organized. but ill do it. Finally. for YOU.

first. my fav period setting fics <33:

tete a tete by caciopepebowl (14k~) this is REQUIRED reading to ME. its a quick read that explores kate and anthonys roles in their family. with an emphasis on KATE specifically bc of the additional hurdles of being a woman with limited funds. and anthony losing his mind on her behalf while shes breaking his heart by being like "the way i was treated was normal?? you dont know anything" and hes like "what? kate you deserved everything. you deserve ALL the love in the world!!" and shes all ">:( well if i do. you do too." . and hes like "oh. well...no. you see.. bc i suck" and shes like -_-. its really sweeeeeet and lovely <3) and really finally gave me the exploring of kates family issues that THE SHOW DID NOT!!!

the longest betrothal by caciopepebowl. (90k~) my FAVVVVV regency setting fic. its sooo good. its basically a continuation that fills in the gap AFTER they get engaged but BEFORE theyre married. and them trying SO hard to be normal about how in love they are lol. SO funny and sweet. and with IMMACULATE characterization

in vino veritas by wagamiller. (~10k) a one shot about kate going to a ladies society event and coming home drunk to anthony and him being soooo smitten with her. sauuuur cute. ive read this like 4 times <3 its soooo good

for reasons wretched and divine by penny_loaf. (~18k. locked fic. need an account.) basically kate and anthony get stuck in a time loop on that first day edwina is receiving suiters. they both think theyre alone in the loop and its depressing until they realize the other is stuck with them too. they try to break the loop and fail repeatedly. after a while they just give up and start fucking bc theres no consequences so who cares LOL. surprisingly tender and sweet

the harsh light of day by burnerraccount. (~22k. locked) explicit one shot. kate has the idea that they should fuck before they get married so theres less pressure on the wedding night. she decides all this without mentioning it to anthony (LOL). so she shows up at his house the night before their wedding. and his footman is like "theres a woman outside to see you" and he in all his goofy almost-married bliss is like "i dont want to see Any woman but my gorgeous, beautiful, amazing WIFE" and his footman is like "well. you see.. it is your wife. uh fiance" and anthonys like "[voice crack] huh ?". very FUNNY

green in its many hues by burnerraccount. kate and anthony decide they are going to be chaste and proper leading up to their wedding. they suck at it SO bad lol

next. modern AUS my best friends <33:

la semi dolce vita by caciopepebowl (~170k) my FAVVVV modern au of ALL time. kate is a private chef. anthonys family hires her when they go on vacation. hes being so normal about it. i promise. this is one of the best characterizations of kate AND anthony in a modern setting. with an extra emphasis on focusing on kate issues. and not JUST anthonys. which is what makes the dynamic sooo good. 10/10. hot. and i love LOVE <3

close encounters of the acutest kind by caciopepebowl (WIP ~74k. only incomplete fic ill put on this list i PROMMY. bc its by the prev author. and i Looove their writing and its sooo good so far <3) kate and anthony meet for the first time the DAY her dad died which is also the SAME DAY hyacinth is born. theyre both having a panic attack and end up running into the same empty hospital room to have it. are then intrinsically linked forever. as one is. run into each other multiple times over the years. with different feelings each time. and they are so normal (lying) <3. i love them

chosen & cherished by trash4ficsaboutlurv. (~42k) this is so underrated. kate runs a charity organization. anthony is CEO of whatever the fuck. she goes to his company when theyre holding some audition for what charity theyre going to invest in and kate is the last speaker and when its finally her turn he barely even pays attention. and shes exhausted and overworked and just oveeeer it All. so she ends the meeting and tells him to go fuck himself. LOL. genuinely really good. and hot <3

sidelines by ramarro. (~60k) this was THE quintessential kanthony modern AU in 2022. kates an artist who sees a picture of anthony on tinder and thinks he looks obnoxious (lol) but screenshots the photo so she can use his arms/hands for sketching practice. and then she see him and his grown ass on a date with her BABY sister. and shes like well i was right about him. and lets him know to his face how she feels (LOL). its wild. it slays. read it. theres an explicit follow up to it which also slays

three cities and we never lived here by ramarro. (~25k, ~40k) very different modern au where kate and anthony meet on vacation and are very casual with them both not looking for anything (genuinely for once lol) and then seeing each other multiple times over 2-3 years in different cities and still keeping it casual. but slowly slowly slowlyyyy it doesnt feel as casual as it used to. theres 2 fics in this. the first is kates pov. the second is anthony. both very good.

just go with it by suitsusboth. (~18k) kate when booking a flight sees the potential titles like ms, mrs, dr, and "viscountess" listed as a legit option and has a laugh like whos picking this goofy shit and accidentally clicks it. and then on her flight gets upgraded to first class next to anthony bc they assumed she was his wife. and he tries to be mad about it. but well. hes stupid for her in every universe so lol. funny and sweet

the air i breathe and the bane of my existance by the_loosest_moose. (image fic) these are textfics told through instagram, twitter, article and text message screenshots. with some regular text. would just check them out to gauge how you feel about the storytelling method. very fun reads once you get the hang of it

heirlooms by waterlilyrose. (~12k) modern au where kate gets anthonys ring stuck on her finger for days and has to wait to get it off. he is of course very normal about it

a devils love by irony_rocks. (~57k) this may not be for everyone but kanthony season came out around the same time as The Batman (2022) and as someone who was crazy insane about both. this was the MOMENT for me in spring 2022. its a crime mafia type au where kates character is inspired by selina kyle and the pebble lounge she worked at in the batman movie. and well. if youre about that specific combo check it out. its not a batman au

break point (series) by penny_loaf. (multiple. ~25k) this a tennis au which you wouldnt think would be that deep but it is and its sooooo good. it really delves into the pressure of the world its set in on top of the issues kate and anthony ALREADY have. and as an ANGST and crazy, complicated characters STAN...very GORGEOUS to ME <3 and hot

take me home by kendal_lynne. (~12k) romcom type explicit one shot where kate makes the mistake of telling anthony her ex couldnt make her come. and hes all like i can do it volunteer as tribute PLEASE PKLEASE PLEASE PICK ME CHOOSE ME PLWASEE etc

we never made a sound by writergirl8. (~4k) spy au that was soooooo good and sexy. i wish it was longer

with elaichi by serendipityinwords (~6k) the two biggest bitches at a dinner party find out they're soulmates. LOL. hilarious dialogue

theres probably more i loved that im not remembering rn and maybe ill update this but for now have fun! yippee <3

#to everyone who doesnt gaf sorry for this long ass post #to everyone who does care this took 3 HOURS dont ever say i never did anything for youuuyuyu!!!#bridgerton #kanthony fic #kanthony fanfiction #kanthony #LONG POST #bridgerton*

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leascorner · 10 months ago

Text

b.b. | Emergency contact

Summary: “I changed my emergency contact, just so you know.”

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x f!reader

Warnings: Angst, mention of multiple accidents, mention of break-up, probably inexact medical and american army facts, deaths, grief, mention of trauma/PTSD, mention of food

Word Count: 4.7k

Author note: y/n = your name; y/s/n = your sister's name. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Maverick saw her first.

Hair all over her face. Cloudy eyes. Blank cheeks. Y/N looked even worse than what he had thought and considering the situation, that was perhaps to be expected. He could only imagine the call she had gotten when maybe she was on her way home after work. The kind of call that just say, “your loved one is at the hospital”. They could be dead already. They could be alive for now, but dead before she’d make it there…

Maverick did not know her personally. He knew, however, who she was and who she had been to Bradley. He had heard what had happened at that time; even if his godson had not gone into much details - he wasn’t exactly one to confide about his love life. Being aware of her story, he felt like this moment would be exactly like any of his own PTSD - reliving your worst nightmare. He had known from the moment the nurse had told him he was not family - Y/N was - that whenever she would show up, he needed to be there for her.

Getting up from the seat in which he had been waiting for some times now, he called out her name. Her eyes scanned the whole room before landing on him. She had never seen him other than in Bradley’s old photobooks, but she recognized him immediately. Though Maverick was now a couple of years older, he looked as in the pictures. It relieved her to see him there; it was partly because he did not look like someone who was going to have to bury his godson any time soon. Of course, it also startled her. The last time she had talked to Bradley, many (many) years ago, his resentment against Maverick was consuming him. She guessed they had finally worked things out.

“We were testing new materials,” Maverick explained as he sat her up in the seat next to his. Though her cheeks were slowly regaining colour, she was still trembling like the leaves of a tree caught in the wind. Perhaps it was being in this ER room again, in the exact same hospital, after all this time. Perhaps it was also the adrenaline wearing off. “Bradley’s jet had an issue and he had to extract. He landed quite roughly though. His left leg is pretty messed up.”

Y/N stayed silent, staring at him, and Maverick let her be. Of course, she had imagined him to be dead. Though she had just heard the contrary, her brain took a couple of seconds to work everything out. “So, he will be alright?”

He nodded slowly and Y/N let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She was selfishly relieved. She wouldn’t have to decide on the last clothes he would wear. She wouldn’t have to be handed his flag and colors. She wouldn’t have to watch his coffin buried six feet deep. She wouldn’t have to read over and over that stupid phrase written in the marble of this grave. She wouldn’t have to get through this again.

She had done that too much for her own lifetime already.

“Doctor, this is Miss Y/L/N”.

Maverick’s hand on her shoulder made Y/N surface out of her thoughts. She was quick to hop onto her feet and greet the surgeon that had just joined them with a nod. She braced herself for whatever news he had to give - couldn’t be that bad, Bradley was alive after all - and when it didn’t come, she presumed from his look that he was silently waiting for Maverick to go. She understood now that she was the only one listed as his emergency contact.

“He can stay, he is family.”

The surgeon nodded and started to explain in a more complex manner what Maverick had already told her before. Bradley would be immobilised for a couple of weeks, waiting for the bruise in his knee to resolve before he could undergo surgery. After that he would still need to have Physical Therapy before being cleared.

“How long until- how long ‘till he can go back to flying?” Y/N asked, nervously.

“A few months, six at most.” At her side, it was Maverick’s time to let out a shaky breath. He already knew it was going to be difficult to keep Bradley off the tarmac for this long. “He is awake now, if you want to visit.”

After they thanked him, Y/N heard Maverick turning to her - only a few seconds away to say what she assumed to be a “you go first” - and she stayed frozen on her spot, not able to make a move as she finally understood she could be seeing Bradley again – it had never crossed her mind before. There was no way she was facing a very much alive Bradley today. Not today, nor any time soon.

“You go, I’ll handle the paperwork.”

Maverick knew better than to say a thing; he only nodded, thanking her quietly. He knew she would most likely be gone when he would be back. He didn’t blame her though.

This was just a tragic story.

Bradley saw her first.

He had been at the beach near Penny’s bar probably a thousand times since he last spoke to her, all these years ago. Yet, never had he seen her there.

Watching her, sat on an enormous beach towel, watching Henry - or at least he guessed it was Henry - playing in the sand a few feet away, he could only feel guilty for what he had put her through a month ago. The call from the military hospital, the minimal information given, the drive alone, fear clenching her stomach, the parking lot where she could’ve vomited her gut out, the hospital smell. It must have been like reliving her worst nightmare. Except this time there was no tragic ending...

He had changed his emergency contact as soon as the painkiller had permitted him to think straight. To be honest, after all those years, he had forgotten she was even mentioned in his file. They had never been married and therefore had never been officially together for the Navy. He really thought no one was his emergency contact; it only felt natural having no family of his own. No parent. No wife. No kid. Now, he only had his godfather - they had reconnected a couple of years ago.

He was only relieved this had happened when Maverick was here, that someone was able to be by her side and that this time, she didn’t have to live it all alone.

Though he wanted to, Bradley did not go and apologize. He imposed so much on her already. Breaking her heart. Letting her go. Probably scaring the hell out of her. No, he definitely had done enough already.

He was mentally wishing her all the best from afar, ready to turn back to the bar, when the little boy at her side made his heart stopped. One of his tiny fingers was pointing in his direction and it took only what seemed to be a second for Y/N to turn around as well, her eyes landing on him. Against all odds, she waved shyly in his direction, which made Henry - who he had only met when he was still a couple of days old - waved at him as well.

Awkwardly, Bradley waved back and decided that at this point, he couldn’t just turn around and leave. The walk to their spot was pure torture with his messed-up knee for which he had yet to undergo surgery.

“You are the guy in the wedding picture in the hallway,” Henry said once Bradley was to their level. Bradley frowned, not sure what to answer to this. Of course, he understood he was talking about Y/S/N’s wedding, though he didn’t quite understand how this little guy would have recognized him in the hundred guests that must appear on the pictures.

“There is a picture in the hallway,” Y/N simply answered, before explaining to Henry that the polite way to greet someone was to say hello first.

Bradley only nodded, preferring to stay silent as he wasn’t really sure what to say now that he was there.

“How is your knee?”

“Well, could be better, I guess?” Bradley shrugged and Y/N nodded, a serious expression on her face. He hadn’t been in the best of mood due to his injury, and he realized too late this tone wasn’t the friendliest. To make sure she didn’t take it personally, he was quick to continue: “I wanted to say-”

“It’s okay,” She cut him off; she couldn’t be sure what he was thinking, yet she wanted to spare them both the struggle of his thanks. She hadn’t done him a favour running to his side at the first call. In fact, she hadn’t really thought anything, coming running blindly to the hospital as the nurse on the phone told her he had an accident. Maybe it was selfish of her, maybe this time she had thought she could save someone she knew.

“No, I don’t think it really is…” He sighed. “I changed my emergency contact, just so you know.”

“Thanks.”

Some more silence.

Bradley’s hands had become even sweatier, and it wasn’t due to the weather of the first days of spring. This whole situation was literally making him so uncomfortable. It was like walking on eggshell; he didn’t want to break her even more.

“I very am sorry.”

Bradley wasn’t sure what he was really sorry for. This wasn’t just for the scare, last month. It was also for breaking her heart, leaving her the second he had his dream job - like they couldn’t have made it work, not being around when Y/S/N and her husband died in that horrible car crash, him only sending flowers for the funerals, him not calling to make sure Y/N was surviving - how could he have, when he was the one leaving her to live his dream life and she was now the legal guardian of her six-months-old nephew at thirty something.

Y/N only stared at him, trying to see through him like she used to. He was sincere - she knew that much.

“I know.”

It had been a little more than three months when Bradley saw her again.

He had just completed yet another session of physical therapy; though it had been ten weeks since he had surgery and he didn’t need crutches to walk any longer, he still had not recovered the totally of his knee motion. Maverick was driving him twice a week to the military hospital to have PT; with his messed up left knee, Bradley couldn’t drive his manual Bronco.

While he was patiently waiting for the secretary to hung up the phone to get his next appointment scheduled, his eyes landed on a familiar face in the ER waiting room. She was here yet again, eyes puffy and red, breathe short and hair all over the place.

“Y/N?”

Hearing her name, she jumped from her seat, all senses on alert. Her eyes scanned the room urgently before stopping on Bradley. Understanding it was him calling her name, the tears she was holding back started flowing on her cheeks again. His heart started to pound furiously in his chest as the only thought that passed his mind was that something terrible had happened. Again.

“Hey, hey,” he said once he had walked - not so easily - to her. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his white T-shirt. She was grabbing him as if he was a lifebuoy. “What happened?”

As her only answer, her body broke into violent sobs. Bradley kept her close, stroking her hair gently, trying to soothe. It took what seemed to be like a couple of minutes for her to at least remember to breath and a couple more for her to be able to speak multiple words in a row. This time, Bradley held her through it all.

“Henry fell down the swing and the school called and- and-” Some more sobs rocked her body and Bradley only held her tighter, heart swelling of seeing her in this state. She must have had the scare of her life. Again.

“It’s okay,” Bradley reassured her. “Is he with a doctor now?”

She nodded, more tears falling down her cheeks. “He has a bad cut on his forehead,” sob, “needed stitches,” sob, “I couldn’t - I couldn’t” stay with him, Bradley understood even if she didn’t finish her sentence. “Shouldn’t see me like that.”

“It’s okay.”

Y/N was still grabbing his T-shirt like she would drown had she ever let go, so he held her a little more, wondering how long she had been in the ER waiting room, clearly in utter panic.

“Breathe with me,” he said. She looked up at him and gently, he dried off her tears. For one split second, he was brought back to that night, what felt like a hundred of years ago. He had promised her everything would be okay. How wrong had he been…

If anything, this was a very bad remake of their break-up.

“He is okay now, more fear than harm.” Y/N nodded, trying to gain back her composure. “You know, somebody told me one day that scars actually made you look pretty badass,” he pointed to his own scars on his chin and cheeks. “It will be a hit with girls and boys for sure.”

“I don’t remember saying that,” she finally smiled. There she is, he thought.

“Miss Y/L/N?” Y/N let go of him to turn to the doctor he understood was taking care of Henry. “We are all done. A nurse is doing his bandage right now. It will need to be redone once a day for a week and we’ll see him again in ten days to remove his stitches.”

Y/N squeezed the hand Bradley didn’t realize she was holding. She was relieved and still, she did not move when the doctor went away.

“You’ve got an automatic, right?” This made Y/N turned back to Bradley in surprise. He had that small smirk on his lips that she could recognize anywhere. The one that he offered when he had a surprise for her. Whatever it was a bath after an extremely long day or to watch Love Actually for the second night in a row when she was on her period. All she had to do back then was to follow his lead, she knew he would take care of her. The truth was, she would have followed him anywhere.

And even after all those years, she still trusted him.

“You do the paperwork, I’ll get him?” Y/N nodded slightly, muttering a quiet thank you. After yet another nod to make sure she was okay, Bradley finally let go of her hand and went to get Henry. On his way, he texted Mav to let him know he did not require a lift up from the hospital anymore. Something had come up, but he’ll explain later.

When Bradley entered the examination room, Henry was sat down on the examination table and a nurse was just finishing to put the last blaster on his forehead.

“Hey buddy!” Henry’s eyes face lifted up seeing Bradley on the doorstep, unfazed it was him rather than her aunt who went to get him. “A little birdie told me ice-cream would make it all better.”

“Bradley!”

Against all will, the ice-cream little “date” had become a recurrent event now. It started ten days later when Henry had his stitches gotten taken out - Y/N asked if she could pick him up after PT to return him the favour. Then, it was a week or so later, for the end of the school year. Then again, on regular occurrence during the summer - sometimes with their friends and family. Some other times, just the three of them.

Today was the first day of the new school year, Henry’s first day of 1st grade. It also was six months now that Bradley had been in contact again with Y/N. Still a couple of weeks until he could get cleared for flying again. A couple of weeks until he would be deployed somewhere on this planet.

And Bradley, picking up Henry from school with ice-cream for celebration, wasn’t really sure how to feel about it; he had decided to elude the matter for now.

“Hey buddy!”

Bradley watched the little guy through his reversing mirror to make sure he was putting his seatbelt on before driving off. He and Y/N had planned to meet up at the beach, once she would have finished work.

On the way there, Henry told him all about Mrs Simpson, his new teacher; how he got lucky to be paired with his best friend, Tom in the class room, and how sure he was that, by Christmas, he would be able to read so they could share reading of his bedtime stories: “You’ll read Daddy Pig’ part and I’ll read Peppa Pig’ part, okay?”

Yes, after all, Bradley definitively did not want to think of his future deployment; he would rather just stay here, in this moment in times.

After taking a swim and perfecting Henry’s swimming techniques (Bradley had taught him how to swim during the summer in between two ice-cream dates), Bradley and Henry were in the middle of sandcastles building contest when Y/N finally arrived.

Bradley sat on the beach towel, Y/N at his side, as Henry excitingly told them about his day and most importantly, all the painting materials they had in his class and that he couldn’t wait to test. The sun was starting to decline in the distance, bathing them in its last warm sunshine. A soft breeze was tenderly blowing his hair. Y/N, with Henry on her knees, was sharing a story of her sister’s first day of ‘big girl’ school and her nephew had a million questions about his mom.

Like every time the subject was brought up in his presence, Bradley tried to add as much details as he remembered of Y/S/N. It was some of his best childhood memories after his dad died: Maverick and his mom making sure his dad’s memory was still alive. He hoped it would be the same for Henry.

“You know what our family tradition was to celebrate the first day of school year?” Henry shook his head no. “Pizza night!”

Bradley laughed as the boy’s face lighted up; he was quick to be on his feet and gather his stuff to get back to the car - it was probably the first time ever Henry would agree to leave the beach without making a fuss.

Y/N helped Bradley to get up - even if he had told her multiple times before that his knee was perfectly fine, she had still treated him as if he would fall down any time. He was attending his last physical therapy sessions by now and he had already started physical training at the base. In a few weeks, he would have to have a medical examination to confirm he could fly again; his accident was well behind him at this point.

Folding the beach towel together, Y/N took this as the opportunity to thank him again for picking up Henry that day.

“My pleasure,” Bradley had assured her.

“Seriously, I owe you big time. I couldn’t see myself putting him in afterschool for his first day.”

For a split second, Bradley saw on her face an expression he knew by heart but couldn’t quite recall what it was; the next second, she was continuing to file her bag with Henry’s beach toys. It took a moment more to Bradley to understand what he had just seen: guilt. The same guilt he had observed in his mom eyes when there were things he asked, and she couldn’t simply offer him as a single mom.

“I don’t know if you are being told that enough but Y/N,” He gently grabbed her wrist to make her stop filling her bag and look back at him. “You are doing more than good with Henry.”

“I am trying my best.”

“And you are doing good,” he assured her again, squeezing her hand in his. Realizing what he had just done, he grimaced slightly but Y/N was quick to reassure him and squeezing his hand in return. “Let’s go.”

Later that afternoon, they were sat down at Pizzeria Luigi, waiting for their pizza. Bradley and Henry were having a funny face contest - Bradley copiously winning despite all the kid’s efforts. Y/N was laughing along with them, the small intimacy moment they shared before was long forgotten.

“That’s a cute family you got there,” the waitress smiled as she put their pizza on the table.

“Oh, we are not-” Bradley started, but was quick to be cut by Y/N saying:

“Thanks!”

While Y/N exchanged a few more banalities with the waitress, Bradley looked at her, utterly touched she would consider him family. He was incredibly lucky she even accepted him in his life again, after how much he had hurt her. On the restaurant terrace, surrounded by the last rays of the summer sun, she looked so happy. When she looked at him with her big sparkly eyes and the biggest smile on her lips, his own heart swelled of happiness.

And he swore he could have kissed her. Right here, right now.

“Henry, can you go wash your hands please? Dinner is almost-” Y/N passed a head through the kitchen door framing, looking what Henry was doing in the entrance corridor. “Bradley?”

“Hi,” he greeted her quietly from the doorstep, Henry by his side the doorknob still in his hand.

Bradley stayed silent, not moving, and his eyes wouldn’t quite meet Y/N’s. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come over - he was more and more these past weeks, but he was usually texting first to confirm he wasn’t imposing on them. Him showing up unannounced, at that time of the night, was odd.

“Your hands, please.” The kid passed in front of her on his way to the bathroom and Y/N waited for him to be gone before turning back to Bradley.

He was looking at a picture hooked up on the hall wall. The picture of his sister’s wedding on which her sister, her husband, Bradley and she were all smiling. It has been taken a few weeks before he was accepted into the academy. A few months before her whole world crashed down. He had walked by a multitude of times before, yet today he couldn’t take his eyes off it.

“Bradley?”

Bradley’s attention finally went back to her, a look on his face Y/N couldn’t quite read. It wasn’t the apologetic look he had worn when he broke up with her. It wasn’t the mask of fury she had seen on his face when he had explained to her one night that his US Naval Academy application had been rejected, by Mav out of all people. It wasn’t either the naturally serious face he would most often wear, nor the sly smirk she had seen on his lips so many times.

His stare was even darker than usual and heavy on her. She couldn’t quite figure out what he wanted to say if he wasn’t using words. One thing she had learned with Bradley was to not rush him and let him come to her.

“We were about to eat, mind to join us?” She asked instead of the millions of questions in her head.

He only nodded, not speaking a word. Y/N took another look at him before heading back to the kitchen.

They stayed silent for a couple of minutes in the kitchen, waiting for Henry to come back from the bathroom. Knowing the kid, with the times he was taking, he was probably making a mess with the soap in there, but none of them went checking on him.

Y/N was watching the vegetables cooking and Bradley was leaned against the kitchen sink unit, deeply in his thoughts, arms crossed over the short-sleeve shirt he still wore even if it was already late October.

“I’ve been cleared.”

Y/N was surprised by the tone of his voice - if there was only one thing for which Bradley was living, it would be flying. “Is that… a bad thing?”

Bradley sighed, passing a hand on his face. He had only received the news about an hour ago and the first thing he had done was to drive to Y/N’s place. He had tried so hard not to think about this moment and what he would do - as if he had any other option than just to follow the orders. Now that the moment had come, it didn’t feel right with him.

“I-” another sigh, “these last months, I just realized what I could have had if-”

If he hadn’t felt like he had to do it on his own.

If he hadn’t been too scared of hurting her.

All those moments he shared with Y/N and Henry over the last few months had made him realized that his own fear - of hurting the people he loved and especially leaving them behind - had prevented him to live some beautiful moments. He had self-sabotaged himself, breaking off with Y/N so he could be sure she wasn’t hurt by his choices - ironically enough. He had shut her off, convincing himself somehow that he was doing the right thing for the both of them - and how wrong had he been, those last few months had proven him.

“Do you remember what you told me when you broke up with me?” Y/N asked suddenly, making Bradley look back at her. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had said besides ‘sorry’ and ‘I love you’. When he thought about that night, he could only remember her tears, her hands grabbing his shirt and not wanting to let go of him. She had fought for them, so hard, but he had already made up his mind.

He shook his head no as Y/N moved closer.

"Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can come together,” Y/N reeled out quietly as if she had re-lived this scene over and over again in her head.

Bradley laughed bitterly, “I overdid myself on that one, didn’t I.”

Y/N wasn’t laughing. She was staring at him, this determined look on her face. Like she had waited for this moment for a while now. “I do think that is true, somehow,” Y/N smiled softly.

She had thought about this a lot over the last few weeks - it wasn’t just only her now, she was also responsible for Henry. It wasn’t her intention falling back in love with him, after Bradley got back in her life. She had been pleased to find in him a friend, a friend that had rekindled a flame inside her with his sly grin and attention. She felt more alive than ever. He made her feel so… whole.

Heart pounding, Bradley watched her intensely. There were unspoken words in the air, words neither of them wanted to stay out loud, too afraid it would break the spell. He knew looking at her now that they were on the same page. He knew he could let go of his fear; whatever life had in store for them would always be worth it.

They could have stayed like this forever. But Y/N couldn’t let her chance pass.

Without warning, she kissed him. If he hadn’t been leaned against the unit, Bradley would have fallen backwards from the feeling of her lips on his, how his hands found her hips by instinct to bring her closer to him, and how he could feel the warmth radiating off her. It was like in his best memories, and just like it had always have been: two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly.

“What does that mean?” he whispered as he pressed his forehead to hers. He needed her to say it.

“That, perhaps, you could add me back as your emergency contact?”

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sweetimpurity · 30 days ago

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{💓} day 27!! coming in a little late whoopsie! hopefully everyone likes this ending, I think it's a little bit of everything all in one! love ya! thanks for keeping up with this! wc: 1.8k {💖}

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Earth 546

The ride to the hospital is long and painful. Closing your eyes from the pressure and ache in your head, shooting up from your nose and aching behind your eyes. Miguel sits with you, holding your hand and mentally cursing himself. He should have realized what he had before he lost it. The two months he was without you, they were the worst. Wondering where you were. If you were safe. His multiple screens where he’d spend countless hours scouring his databases for any information that might reveal your whereabouts. And working with Lyla to track that portal. Eventually falling down the rabbit hole that led him to you finally.

And now this. To see you’ve managed to latch onto this so quickly. This version of himself that was ready to give you everything. He just feels so bad. He let you down. He sighs, leaning his head down on yours. Those years you’ve spent together at the front of his mind. He can’t blame you for the way you reacted. Just accepting Mig’s love because it was the thing you needed all along.

Mig keeps looking back in the rearview mirror as he drives. Keeping an eye on you and Miguel in the back. He knows he did wrong. But his intentions were pure. His only intention was to give you love. Love you’d been longing for. And to escape that life he'd been stuck in forever. But he did that at the cost of lying right to your face and taking you from the home you knew.

“We’re here…” He sighs, looking back at the two of you in the backseat. Pulling into the emergency room parking lot. Miguel perks up, turning off his suit and the nanotech disappears, leaving him in his regular clothes. An outfit you recognize. Those gray pants and the light gray long sleeve with the thumb cutouts. An ache in your chest. Realizing this really is your Miguel. Looking in his eyes over the mess of tissue at your nose. He just gives you a knowing look, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay…”

Mig does the same. His suit disappearing and his work clothes underneath. Running a hand through his messy hair. Parking the car and sighing.

The three of you make it out of the car and through the automatic doors. Entering the waiting room and getting a few looks from people. These two hulking twins escorting a bleeding you through the lobby. Like guard dogs. Glaring at anyone who dares look your way. Miguel holding your hand and Mig’s hand on your back guiding you through to the front desk.

Soon you’re getting tended to by a kind older nurse. Cleaning up your bloody nose and giving you some stronger pain killers to help with the swelling. At your request, the boys are waiting out in the lobby. Sitting with an empty chair between them. Crossed arms and huffs, frowning at the floor and waiting for you to return.

Each of them has a few choice words for the other.

“You couldn’t have picked a dimension with some higher tech? This place is like 2030…” Miguel huffs, rolling his eyes. Glaring around at the hospital. If they were on Earth 928, he’d be able to treat your broken nose himself in minutes in his lab. But since Mig did all this, this is what they have to settle for.

“This place seemed safe…” Mig says, staring blankly at the floor.

Miguel scoffs, looking at him with a furrowed brow. “You act like we’re not superhuman geniuses… who can quite literally jump between dimensions. We can do anything we want and not many people could stop you…” Miguel says matter of factly. Clasping his hands together.

“My dimension’s messed up… ” Mig says. Blinking and tapping his fingers on the armrest. “Everything feels wrong there… things glitch, my whole life there was like one big glitch.”

Miguel nods and listens. Feeling empathetic to his struggle. He can understand why he did what he did. But he still can’t help but feel it’s his duty to make things right with you. Whatever that may mean. Even if it means you leaving him for good this time. All this started with you two, it should be resolved that way too.

“Well there are a lot of universes out there… People like you and me aren’t meant to stay in just one. Your whole life could be waiting for you and you wouldn’t even know it.” Miguel says. Feeling more optimistic than usual. Of course, he sees his own struggle in his fellow Miguel.

“Whatever happens now… it’s gonna be her decision. And we’ll have to take it as it is.”

It’s silent for a bit before the doors open finally and you walk out with an ice pack in hand. A butterfly bandage over your swollen nose. But you’re all cleaned up now. Walking over and instead of sitting in between then, you sit across from them, facing them. The three of you settling into a heavy silence.

“I’m sorry…” Mig is the first to speak. Not looking up at the two of you yet. Looking down at his hands. It’s quiet, letting his apology sink in.

“Yeah I’m really sorry… I don’t know what I was thinking…” Mig sighs. “I didn’t want to hurt you… but I should have been honest from the beginning.” He hums more seriously. His eyes flicking up and expecting to see hatred in your expression but your face is surprisingly soft.

“And I’m sorry…” Miguel says. And you find his eyes on you. His apology feeling much more heavy. Three years of your life you spent with this man. This was all pretty messed up to begin with. Both of them messed up big time.

“I didn’t want to hurt you either… but I was selfish… and ignorant. I didn’t know what I had until it was gone...” Miguel huffs. Looking in your eyes.

“I guess we’re just wired to love you… in every dimension…” Miguel says with a slight sad smile. The two of them watching you from across the row of seating.

“Me too…” You sigh with a pained grin.

5 years later… Earth 928

You’re home. Back where you started. After having spent some time away from any and all versions of Miguel O’hara. After the hospital, you said goodbye. You gave the ring back and a tearful goodbye to Mig who wished you nothing but love and joy in your life. And he told you about his plans to explore more of the multiverse and try to establish his own life somewhere, instead of framing his life off of the variants that are his parallel, but not his mirror.

Getting back home, you decided it was best to part ways with Miguel as well. At least for a while. After the deep hurt he caused, you needed to heal on your own for a while and figure out what you want and how to love yourself first. You landed a promotion the next year, moving up a position at your job surprisingly after having to explain to them the very unique reason for your two month absence. Picked up some new hobbies after getting your own apartment. Growing flowers and herbs on the fire escape and who knew you could paint?! Made some new friends in the neighborhood. And all was well.

Miguel spent his time focusing on the Spider Society. Guiding his team to protect the multiverse and working to preserve the precious timelines from running out of control. He was able to do so with the help of Lyla, Peter B, Jess and all the spider teens. And finally after five years, he’s passing the Society off to those teens who are now adults. Spiderpeople in their own right and passionate about keeping the multiverse and all its inhabitants safe. And leading the Society as a united front. Knowing it will take them some time to grow into the role but he’s willing to help them all along the way.

Miguel plans to take a step back from the Society. And from his work as Spiderman 2099 as a whole. What with the baby on the way, he wants to be able to spend all his important time with you.

One year ago, you reconnected. After spending nearly 4 years apart, he happened to check in and it happened to be on the date of your anniversary. Talking about old memories changed to talking over dinner again. And without half his mind distracted by the multiversal collapse, he could focus on you and only you. He can’t help but feel oddly grateful to Mig all those years ago for making him see what he was missing, making him realize what he was losing. You.

This time he wasted no time. Proposing to you six months later and knowing it’s right this time. Not wanting to lose you, not wanting to risk you feeling the way you did ever again. Wanting to do right by you. From now on and always.

You were married in a tiny ceremony at HQ. Peter B cried, Miles did too.

And now a few months after that, you’re pregnant with your very first! It’s all you ever dreamt of. All you wanted. The family, the stability, the feeling of home with the man you love. And you have to feel grateful to Mig too because he showed you, you were deserving of unconditional love. At the time, Miguel just couldn’t show it. Right person, wrong time. But he’s learned better now.

Miguel has already been decorating the nursery with little pink web designs. Full papa spider mode getting the nest ready for the arrival of your little one. And though the journey hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing… you’re together at last and on the same page. And Mig 731 isn’t doing too bad himself…

…

Mig traveled the multiverse all these years. Going to worlds he never knew existed. Timelines that are so different from his own. Always searching for a new adventure and coming out of his shell. The shell his broken dimension always forced him into. Feeling a freedom he never had before. Not when he was sitting at home, watching other Miguel’s have lives he could only dream of having. Not readily having the technology to actually get out and seize his chance.

Along the way, he even met a certain someone who took his breath away. You. From Earth 764A. A feisty spider woman and the prettiest in the multiverse. And when he learned you didn’t have a Miguel in your timeline, it was like the gates of fate opened and he saw the light. The two of you traveling to fantastic worlds unknown! And falling in love all the while. Spending the rest of his days with you, the only version of you that he feels he was meant to find. Miguel was right, his whole life was out there waiting for him. You were out there waiting for him. He just had to go looking...

And they all lived happily ever after…

The end.

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136 @lazyninjaphilosopher

@pinkdizzyship @opalwitchart

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

plus those who requested a part 2+:

@d3stin7 @laysmt @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @marshhbs

@twwcs @resident-clown @haveclayeveryday

@fullmetal-spiderling @grumpyahjumma

@lxverrings @lazyjellyfish300 @nightingale1011

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annwrites · 3 months ago

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⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part four. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you begin to get a better idea of just how deeply damaged john truly is & he stakes a claim to you. · tags: lactation kink · tw: possessiveness · word count: 2,618

You sip on your iced coffee, typing away on your laptop, near to completing your essay for one of your classes, which is due in two days.

“God, he’s so hot. I don’t get why you don’t think so,” Emma says.

You glance up to her from over your laptop screen with a raised brow, watching as she stares down at her cellphone with a dreamy look in her eyes.

“Huh?”

She looks at you, then raises her phone, showing you a recent livestream of John. No, Homelander.

No, John. You hate his moniker.

He smiles charmingly at a reporter, who speaks into her microphone with an excited look on her face. “I’m here speaking to the one and only Homelander, who just—with the aid of his fellow supe, A-Train—saved a family of three from a near-fatal car accident.”

She holds the microphone toward him. “Can you tell us what happened here, Homelander?”

You refrain from rolling your eyes at the obnoxious name.

“Yeah, me and my buddy and fellow supe, A-Train,” he nods to the smiling man at his side who waves to the camera. “Were just doing some patrols of the area—just something we try to do every now and again across the state to keep our people safe,” he says with a shrug.

“When we saw the driver over there,” he continues, pointing to a man standing near a blue sedan. “Run a red light here at the intersection. Just—” He purses his lips, shaking his head. “Carelessness.”

He sighs, continuing on. “But, thankfully, A-Train and I were able to step in and rush the injured parties: a mom, dad, and their sweet little girl, to the nearest hospital. I mean, to wait for an ambulance…there’s no telling what might’ve happened. What precious lives might’ve been lost.”

The camera pans back to the reporter. “What would we ever do without you—either of you? We are all so lucky to have heros like the two of you—like the Seven—saving and protecting America every day.”

The camera returns to John who shakes his head, waving his hand. “No, it’s the people of this great nation who are the real heros. We’re just here to do our jobs and use the gifts God gave us to protect and save our fellow man.”

“And save them you did,” the reporter replies, continuing on before Emma locks her phone, looking at you, resting her chin atop both her fists.

“I want him so bad,” she mumbles with a smile.

You grin, shaking your head—sweating nervously.

She’s loved the man for as long as you can remember. Used to have a poster of him—ok, multiple posters—stuck to her bedrooms walls growing up. And she’s seen all of his movies probably an unhealthy amount of times.

If she had any idea that he’d had his head shoved between your thighs just a few nights ago—that you know his real name, his childhood story—the real one—that you’ve had him in your bed, crying in your arms, sitting at your dining table as the two of you eat together…that he’s called himself ‘your man’ more than once now… You’re pretty sure she’d pop a blood vessel, grill you relentlessly on everything, and then never forgive you.

You tell her everything, but this…you can’t.

Honestly, you wonder if she’d even believe you if you tried, anyway.

“What do you think he’s like in bed?”

Your head shoots up. “What?”

She grins. “Not like you want to know how many times I’ve thought about it, but…he’s like the American Dream, right? I mean, he’s definitely my American wet dream.”

You snort.

She continues. “So do you think he’s vanilla, then? Only missionary? Or…oh, I bet he loves creampies. He seems like he could be the type to have a breeding kink. Nuclear family and all.”

You lay your head down. “I don’t want to know.”

You know he’s incredibly good at oral, if nothing else. And he’s a boob man. He’d spent the entire night with his face resting between both of yours.

And he really loves to cuddle. He’d held you like a human-sized teddy bear all night. But, you suppose it makes sense: being desperate for affection. Every time you’d thought today about what he’d told you last night, your heart had broken all over again. You’d actually had to hide yourself away in a restroom today between classes just to cry.

Maybe your period is going to start soon…

God, who would’ve thought in a million years that you would feel sorry for Homelander? But you don’t see him as that now. Not when you’re alone together. Now he’s just…John.

Honestly, in a million years you would’ve never imagined letting him into your bed. Holding him. Calling him baby. Or sweetheart…

“Just guess,” she insists.

You groan in irritation, raising your head. “Maybe he’s a boob man.”

She rolls her eyes toward the ceiling, thinking for a moment before looking back to you while nodding. “Yeah, I can see that.”

You shake your head while smiling. “I have to get this paper done.”

You don’t bother keeping your balcony doors closed this evening. Not while you’re up and idly watching TV, at least.

Watch, you think, the one night you leave them open—as a reluctant invitation—will be the night he finally decides he’s grown bored of coming here and he never returns.

You’re entirely okay with that possibility.

You’d do anything to pass him off onto Emma. Then again…no, you wouldn’t. You most certainly don’t like the idea of him doing to her what he did just a couple nights ago to you on your kitchen counter.

But, she also wouldn’t have even thought about fighting back like you had. She would’ve been completely willing.

You wonder if that would’ve made him all the more angry. Maybe that’s the part that turns him on the most—resistance; a fight.

You jolt when you hear a soft thump to your left. You, begrudgingly, turn your head in that direction, met with the sight of the one and only Captain Asshole.

You feel guilty after thinking that, though. Especially after last night.

He’s just…emotionally stunted. And you’re not even sure at what specific age. Maybe there isn’t a particular one, because for his entire adolescent life…he’d been locked in that room with no one and nothing to interact with.

Tears sting your eyes.

He steps over the threshold, and you merely gaze up at him.

You’re not offering to willingly make him dinner like some trained pet. Not that you feel like it to begin with. You’ve already eaten. He can fly down to the local McDonald’s and pick up a Big Mac if he’s hungry.

Fly down.

He can fly.

What an insane thing to be able to do.

But also fantastical and amazing.

You wish you could do that.

He slips off his boots, setting them beside the door, before padding over, seating himself heavily beside you.

You flip the channel to some trivia game-show then.

“You ever seen any of my movies?” He asks.

You roll your head to the side, staring at him. “What do you think?”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms, looking at the TV. “So, you’ve never had a favorite supe?”

You face forward again as well. “Not really, no.”

“Never had so much as a poster of me?”

You shake your head.

He smirks. “Maybe I should gift you a Homelander pack of panties.”

You look at him with a raised brow.

“Of course they sell those,” you say with a shake of your head.

He leans over you, sliding a hand up your thigh. “I could be with you all day long that way. Right between your legs.”

You shake your head yet again, but in disapproval. Even if your lip twitches in mild amusement.

He leans back again. “I’d like a glass of milk.”

You huff quietly—the playful moment clearly over—and stand.

Once you’ve given him his requested drink, he takes a brief sip, then speaks before you seat yourself once again.

“Well, you’ve gotten to see me undressed. I think we should make things even.”

You still—the hairs raising on the back of your neck—while you simply stand and stare at him.

“C’mon,” he says, motioning with his hand, taking another drink. “Strip.”

“You’ve already seen me without…bottoms—”

“So now I get to see the other half.”

The part of you he’s most interested in, he thinks.

You cross your arms, frowning, heartrate slowly beginning to climb.

His eyes go red and you jump slightly, arms falling to your sides in surprise.

Shades of blue return to you then, and he smiles sweetly, which serves only to make your stomach turn.

“I’m waiting.”

With trembling hands and stinging eyes, you grip the hem of your shirt, slowly tugging it up and over your head. You bunch it up, then hold it shyly against your middle.

“All of it,” he states, taking a long drink, licking his lips as he looks you over.

Your chin wobbles. “I don’t want—”

He sighs, leaning forward. “It’s just us. So slip it off, then climb into my lap.”

You waver.

“I’m not going to rape you. If I wanted you on your back with your legs spread, you would be.”

Not that it’s an unappealing idea to him.

You reach behind you, undoing your bra one clasp at a time. You slip it from your shoulders, tossing it onto the coffee table, then clasp your hands over your naked breasts.

He makes a beckoning motion with his index finger, so you step forward. Hesitantly.

“Straddle my lap.”

You swallow thickly, then do so, settling bent legs on either side of him, resting back on your calves.

He glances to your hands, then into your eyes with a raised brow.

You’d been right in what you’d told Emma that morning—your assumption about him having an appreciation for breasts—apparently.

You lower your arms, resting your hands in your lap, and he abruptly wraps his own around you, leaning forward, taking a nipple into his mouth.

Your eyes widen in shock, your body growing warm all over as he begins to gently suck, his eyes fluttering closed while he moans quietly in the back of his throat.

You, meanwhile, remain still and silent, unsure what the hell to do with yourself.

He releases your breast for a moment, taking a drink of milk, then immediately dives back in.

The TV plays softly in the background, so you choose to instead focus on mentally participating in answering trivial questions instead of…this.

Until he leans back, sliding a hand up your back, gripping your neck.

Your eyes meet his.

“Touch my head.”

You slide trembling hands atop his shoulders, lacing your fingers into his blond strands, and he returns his attentions to your chest.

You gently rub your fingertips against his scalp and he hums in contentment, taking another sip of milk, then sucking on your other breast.

It’s then that the metaphorical wheels begin to turn.

Constantly switching between taking drinks of milk and sucking on your breasts… Oh good lord, he has a breast-feeding kink, doesn’t he?

He just grows more and more interesting the more time you spend with him.

And then your heart breaks all over again.

What if it’s not, entirely, a kink? You know it’s at least half one with the feeling of his erection pressing against your shorts.

He never had a mother. Never had any form of maternal comfort growing up.

Showing up and asking—rather, demanding—dinner, your attention and approval, nearly threatening you last night after a moment of extreme vulnerability… He’d held you to his chest the entire night. Like a child does with a toy for comfort when attempting to sleep.

And now…he’s pretending to breast-feed.

You decide on another small experiment—he liked it the other night when you gave him affectionate touches—and begin to quietly hum a nursery rhyme.

This feels like some fucked-up psychological experiment: you trying to read him and gauge his reactions to this and that to get an exaction on his true nature. But, in reality, he doesn’t seem terribly hard to get at.

He goes to switch breasts again and you grow silent. Until he looks up at you, and tells you, “Keep singing.”

The two of you are lying in bed again with John’s head resting between your breasts as he takes even, steady breaths.

You run your fingers slowly through his hair, lulling him to sleep.

You’re nearly on the edge of it yourself when he stirs before leaning over you, slowly sliding his hand up your chest, then along your neck until his large, heavy palm comes to rest atop the soft, delicate skin.

He stares down at you, and you cup his cheek, brushing your thumb along it.

He smiles gently, tightening his hold, and you swallow nervously, your brows furrowing.

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “You belong to me now. Do you understand?”

Your eyes flit between his and your heart begins to hammer in fear.

“You understand me,” he continues. “Like no one else has ever bothered to. We’re together now. Got it?”

He can’t really mean it. Someone like him…he must be expected to carry on with who Vought and the press choose for him.

“We…we’ve known each other for four days, John. That’s not enough time to—to know how you feel—”

“It wasn’t a question. I wasn’t asking. You’re mine.”

He presses his lips to yours and a tear slips from the corner of your eye.

He lies back down then, snuggling close to you for comfort. “If I find out you’re seeing anyone else, you won’t like what happens to him. So, I suggest staying loyal. Not that anyone else could ever compare to me, anyway. I mean, you should be happy about this—that you’re the young woman I’ve chosen for myself. It makes you special. Being mine, that is. A rich superhero. The supe.”

He closes his eyes, softly smiling. “The greatest man in all of America—the world—and I’m all yours.”

He tightens his hold around you.

“Doesn’t that make you happy?” He asks with a flat, slightly-threatening tone.

Your fingers tremble against his scalp. “What about Maeve?”

He snorts. “She might be my equal—for the most part—but you have your own appeal. There’s nothing I can give her that she can’t already get on her own. Whereas you should be grateful I’ve spared you a second glance or thought. That I’ve let you get this close to me. I’m a gift, really. Come to add interest to your ordinary life.”

A narcissist is what you are, you think.

Does he think, by stressing how special and one-of-a-kind he is, that you’ll…what? Agree? See how blind you’ve been all these years to have shirked the prospect of idolizing him, and finally fall on your knees, beginning for his attention?

You already have it.

The roles are reversed here, in truth. He’s the one desperate to have yours.

You know you shouldn’t speak further, but you want to hear his response to you laying the truth plainly before him. “If I’m so ordinary and you’re so…extraordinary, why bother with me? What is my ‘appeal’, as you put it?”

He grows quiet, listening to your heart pounding in your chest.

Finally, he curls his fingertips inward against your back. “Go to sleep.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, terrified of him. Of what’s happening to you.

Dear God, why couldn’t you have skipped just one day of class? Or come halfway through the day instead?

Now… Now you would be paying for it until he chooses to call this sick game quits.

#fic: the boys (homelander x reader)#homelander x y/n #homelander x you #homelander x oc #homelander x reader #the boys x you #the boys x y/n

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damiansgoodgirll · 4 months ago

Note

Can you please write about reader dating drew and she was a wrestler in the past but she had to quit because something happened like she lost someone from her family or she lost a kid or she had a miscarriage…like something really bad happened and she felt so sad that she had to leave wrestling and one night during RAW cm punk uses that tragedy against drew and so drew attacked him and reader takes care of drew backstage please ❤️❤️❤️

drew mcintyre x reader

‼️this is ANGST, depression and miscarriage, blood, crying, cm punk being a dick (sorry ily), mention of nightmares and panic attacks, DON’T READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE PLEASE‼️

against the world

you were a good wrestler.

you started wrestling when you were a teen, wanting to make that passion your future job.

you were a magnificent wrestler. one of the best in the female faction.

you had been a divas champion for two years straight right after your debut, shocking everyone, shocking yourself too. you had won more matches than the ones you lost. you had been tag team champion multiple times. and, after the divas title was dismissed, you had been both smackdown and raw champion.

you were a beast.

everyone loved you. your colleagues, your family, your friends, your boss, your fans.

everyone saw the talent you had.

drew in particular.

you remember being paired up with him for a mixed tag team match and you immediately clicked. there was something in him that attracted you and there was this light in you that made him feel attracted by you.

it didn’t take long before he asked you on a date. one date became multiple dates, multiple dates became with you two officially dating and ended up with you two getting married and living together.

you were living a dream.

and when you found out that you were pregnant you were the happiest person in the world. you’ve always wanted to be a mom, you’ve always dreamed about a little baby running around the house.

so, when you announced that you would have leave for some time, you made a promise to the public and to the fans - i’ll be back stronger than ever.

but you couldn’t keep that promise.

you remember being seven months pregnant, everything was going fine. your baby boy - you found out it was a boy because drew couldn’t wait until the ninth month - was healthy and growing fast in your belly.

so you couldn’t really explain why one night you woke up and felt wet beneath your back. you remember calling for drew and when he turned on the light you saw the blood laying on the bed. you were trying not to panic but when you felt a strong pain in your belly, you felt something was definitely wrong.

drew went in alarm mode. you remember him picking you up and gently laying you in the backseat of his car while he kept whispering comforting words to you, trying to distract you from the pain. you remember him taking you to the hospital and screaming for a doctor while you laid half unconscious in his arms due to the amount of blood you lost.

but you will always remember waking up the next morning with drew by your side, his eyes red and puffy from crying, and you couldn’t really understand why until you felt it.

there was nothing in your belly. you felt no movements at all, you felt no pressure at all, just nothing at all. and when your eyes met his, you immediately understood.

you remember when drew immediately stood up and went to hug you when you started screaming for your baby. drew didn’t know what to do because there wasn’t much he could have done. he heard you crying and screaming, begging the doctors to let you see the baby, your baby.

and from that day everything changed.

the news about you losing the baby quickly went worldwide. someone at the hospital might have spread the rumour that somehow reached the media and from that day your life became constantly hell.

you kept receiving condolences, from your family and friends, from the fans, from the company but those messages of support only marked the loss you just had.

drew took time off.

because he was there and he saw how bad you were suffering from that. he lost a baby too but he was losing you.

you stopped eating, you stopped sleeping, you basically stopped living. everytime you tried to sleep, you would wake up followed by nightmares, or good dreams about the life you could have had. and those dreams were the worst. because you knew you couldn’t have it now.

every night drew would let you in his arms, holding you while you cried and then eventually he would help you fall asleep again.

you didn’t let anyone in. not your family, not your friends. your best friend rhea was worried sick about you. she kept constantly asking drew to keep him updated about your health. she wanted to be there for you but you wouldn’t let her in.

after a few months and after many therapy sessions, you started living a little more. you lost a lot of weight and you barely recognised yourself. you lost your muscles, you lost your youth.

so, small steps. you started eating a bit more, sleeping a little better and started taking care of your look again. you started talking a little more with your family and friends. everyone noticed that you weren’t the same person anymore and that the person everyone knew and loved probably wouldn’t come back. but you were trying your best and everyone noticed that too.

drew came back to work and you both agreed to be together in this. you followed him everywhere, everytime he had a show in a different city. mostly because he didn’t like the idea of leaving you alone and because you couldn’t trust yourself if left alone for a long period of time.

you told everyone that you weren’t ready to come back. you didn’t know if you had the strength to ever come back wrestling again.

but you were there and making small steps.

you were glad your husband came back to the place he loved. you saw his behaviour changing in positive again and you were happy for him. you weren’t healed but seeing your husband getting more confident each day made you happy.

however when the whole feud with cm punk started, you felt a little uneasy. you knew how he was and you never liked him. you got to work with him back then, before he got fired and even back then, you never liked him. he always made sure to get on everyone nerves, he always had something to say, something to lie about and you couldn’t stand him.

he didn’t care about the people he hurt, he just cared about having it in his way. and one night in particular made you sick to your stomach.

you were backstage with rhea and damian watching your husband segment against cm punk, right after his loss at summerslam. and punk was pissed, he knew he lost that night and he couldn’t get over it. so he started insulting and insulting drew, but knowing your husband you knew he wouldn’t care.

“oh so you’re the big man just because you won” punk screamed into the mic. your husband look remained unfazed, and that made you smile “cheating won’t get you anywhere mcintyre”

“punk, if you weren’t so obsessed with your ego you would have easily won that match…” he chuckled making the crowd laugh “but you had to mess it up, you hit rollins, you pissed him off and then you pissed me off…and that costed your victory” the crowd cheered.

your husband was testing punk, two hotheads in the same room were nothing but pure chaos.

drew chuckled when he heard the crowd cheering for him “you know, it’s your stubbornness that makes you lose and lose repeatedly, you ain’t nothing but scam” drew laughed “there’s nothing i can do if all you have in you is defeat…”

“i may lose my matches but one sure thing is that i’m not gonna lose my family, you see, i protect the people i love on contrary of someone who couldn’t even protect his baby” punk smirked. he went too far but he hadn’t realised that yet.

there was a moment of silence in the arena, fans waiting for drew to say something. he was speechless. for a second he thought - did i go too far with punk?

but when he saw punk smirking he knew there were no words to describe how he was feeling so he simply acted on gestures. he threw the mic right in his face, making the crowd scream from joy, and then he began his attack on punk.

“what kind of man are you dickhead?” he whispered to punk, making sure the cameras didn’t catch that.

in the meantime there were you, backstage, watching the whole thing on tv. rhea and damian sat on the couch next to you, no one dared to say a word. rhea never talked about what happened because you didn’t want to talk about it and she respected that. so in that moment, she didn’t know what to say.

the only thing in your mind was the thought of your baby.

you and drew made a promise - you wouldn’t talk about the baby. you wouldn’t even say the word “baby”. it brought back to many bad memories and you both tried to go on with your lives.

but now punk made all the progress you made worthless. because you were there, sitting on the couch, your eyes fixed on the tv but your mind was somewhere else. your mind was playing trick on you.

that little bundle of joy that you imagined walked into your heart, mind, soul and lives and no matter what he wouldn’t have left, but you tried to move on.

so why did he have to bring back all the bad things?

rhea and damian shared a look. both too scared to speak.

you wanted to be left alone but you knew that if you left your husband changing room, you would get stares and you didn’t want to go through that all over again.

“can you please leave?” you asked them. your eyes still on the tv, watching how referees tried to separate the two men fighting.

“sure…” rhea softly smiled. she didn’t wanna go, she didn’t wanna leave you there, alone with your mind but she knew that in that moment, anything she would have said would be nothing for you.

so they simply got up and left the room.

you waited until your husband was back into the backstage. no one dared to say anything to him. everyone knew that punk overstepped but what are you supposed to say to someone who lost a child?

drew’s mind was thinking of you.

he knew you were backstage and you were watching the whole show and he couldn’t imagine what you were feeling. your own pain used against you.

who would do something like that?

when he saw you sitting there, still watching the show as it went on, with tears in your eyes, his heart broke. he saw the progress you made and he couldn’t be more proud than that.

but now he knew what you mind was thinking and he wished he could take all of your pain away.

“love?” he softly called you. when your eyes met you couldn’t help but let the tears fall down “hey…it’s okay” he didn’t care if he was sweaty or dirty, he needed to hold you and to let you know that everything was okay “come here love” he said wrapping his arms around you, letting you cry in his chest.

he knew what you were feeling because he felt it too.

“why did he do that?” your broken voice asked him “why…why he brought my baby into this?”

drew didn’t have an answer.

“i don’t know love…i don’t know…but it’s okay love, remember? it’s me and you against the world…” he softly whispered.

“it’s not okay drew…sometimes i feel like i failed…i feel like i failed as a mother because i was supposed to protect him, i feel like i failed as a wrestler because everyone has been waiting my return, i feel like i failed as a friend because i have been neglecting them and i feel like i failed as a wife because i’ve been neglecting you…i know you suffered from this loss as much as i did and for all this time you’ve been taking care of me and i feel like…i feel like i failed you drew…”

drew felt like someone just ripped his heart from his chest and threw it away. he couldn’t believe what you just said, he couldn’t believe you’ve been keeping this inside for months.

“hey love, look at me…” he lifted your chin up “i promise you that you haven’t failed me, don’t ever say something like that again okay? because i know how much it hurts, and i know how you suffered from this…baby i promise you that you haven’t failed anyone, i’m so proud of you for letting this things out, and i’m so proud of you for taking small steps every single day, it shows that you are still here…and i couldn’t be prouder than you” he wiped your tears away “i want you to know that everyone is here for you, everyone loves you here and everyone stands by your side…punk will face consequences for his actions and that’s a promise…”

“sometimes i imagine him, i wonder what he would look like…if he had your eyes or mine, if he had your little dimples or if he had my hair…i wonder if in the future he wanted to be a wrestler or a doctor…my life is constantly made of what ifs and i can’t live like this anymore drew…” your voice broke on the last part

drew was glad that you were letting everything out - he knew how much you struggled during therapy, feeling like the doctor couldn’t understand your pain because she hadn’t been there in your position, but at the same time it wished you didn’t hide those feelings from him because he wanted to help you heal.

“i know baby… sometimes i imagine him too because in my mind he has your eyes, and i like to think about having a mini you running down the house… and i know he would’ve loved you more because he would’ve been a mama’s boy” his last sentence made you chuckle “ but love we can’t live like this…we can’t live of what ifs…i know it hurts and probably it will never stop hurting but we have to move on” drew felt a hole in his chest because he didn’t want to move on, but he knew it was for the best.

“i know…” you whispered.

“what do you think if we go back to the hotel and we sleep the night away and then, in the morning when we are more awake we start talking about our future and how we wanna handle all of this?” you knew he was right. after what happened you didn’t make any more plans for the future, you’ve been stuck living in the past that you didn’t think about your future.

“sounds good…but please let me take care of your hands first, you are bleeding…” he laughed when you said that, loving the caring and gentle side of you, he let you take an emergency kit and clean his wounds.

he softly looked at you, admiring with such love and affection, that he knew you were the right person for him.

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leighsartworks216 · 2 months ago

Text

The Best Medicine

Zayne x gn!Reader

It's almost 1am. I think working on these fics is just gonna keep getting later and later until it circles back around to a reasonable time. Not proofread even a little bit.

Not explicitly mentioned, but this is a fic dealing with chronic pain, based around my own chronic joint pain, which flared up multiple times while working on this. Zayne would be so upset with me lol

Warnings: chronic pain, descriptions of pain, kissing, fluff

Word Count: 1,576

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

You listen silently as the front door opens and closes with a click. The jangle of keys as they’re neatly hung up on the nearby wall hooks. The rustle of fabric as he takes off his coat.

Dress shoes are replaced with slippers that pad softly through the house to the bedroom. You’re already looking at the door when he pokes his head in.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Zayne asks as he comes to your side. He sits down slowly on the edge of the bed, being careful not to touch you. He’s got that familiar frown on his face, the one he gets when he’s concerned about your health. It warms your heart.

“Not much,” you admit. “Just a couple snacks. I couldn’t stand for long today.”

He hums in understanding. To his mind, the worst kind of patient was one that could not be so easily treated. As if your heart didn’t weigh heavily enough on his mind…

You suppress a wince as you slip a hand out of the blanket to touch his cheek. He holds it lightly for a moment, before setting it back to rest on the bed. “You don’t have to have that look on your face, you know. We’re not in the hospital right now.”

“I always worry for your health, regardless of where we are.” With the threshold of touch crossed, he doesn’t hesitate for long before brushing your hair out of your face. His fingers are cool to the touch as they skim your forehead, tucking longer strands behind your ear. “Have you taken anything for the pain yet?”

You look down at his tie, loosened around his neck. He sighs.

“And you don’t want me to worry, even though you have a relentless habit of ignoring your health?”

“I thought…” You sigh. You know it sounds stupid; it always does. There’s no logic behind it. “I thought I could power through it this time. It wasn’t so bad this morning.”

He sighs, but the exasperation drifts on an undercurrent of fondness. “It may not have been as bad right now if you’d taken your medication sooner.”

He gets up from the bed and goes into the bathroom. You can see his reflection in the mirror from this angle, until he opens it in search of medicine for you to take. It reflects your pitiful state for a time. Reduced to rotting away in bed all day, barely able to move without risking pain. On days like these, days when your body betrayed you, dangling your success at becoming a Hunter and fighting Wanderers right before your eyes, just out of reach, it was easy to lose yourself to the cruelty of your mind. It always found its way back to the forefront of your thoughts, whether you listened to music, watched a show or movie, or risked moving to scroll through messages.

The mirror cabinet shut, reflecting once more the calm face of your partner, and it felt easier to remember that one bad day did not undo the progress of a lifelong dream.

He returned with a small pill bottle in hand, none the wiser to your plight. Setting the bottle on the nightstand, he worked with you to slowly, as carefully as possible, help you sit up. You purposefully leaned forward to rest against him, but he didn’t push you away, despite the inconvenience. He did his best not to jostle you, listening for any noise of discomfort, as he retrieved the bottle and poured two pills into his hand. When you open your mouth for them, he chuckles, and deposits them onto your tongue.

The cup on your nightstand had been placed there this morning by your darling doctor. It’s still almost full when he picks it up and brings it to your lips. “You were supposed to drink all of this,” he lightly scolds.

Speaking through the pills in your mouth, you tease, “I was rationing.”

He doesn’t speak while he helps you drink. One hand rests at the back of your neck, supporting your head as it tips back. The other slowly tilts the cup, until you tap his knee to know you have enough water to take the pills. His thumb strokes the base of your skull as you focus on swallowing, prepared to assist if you can’t get them down in one try.

As soon as you’re done, he dryly retorts, “Rationing for how long? At that rate, you could make this one cup last a month.”

Your snicker puts him at ease.

He sets the glass down as he speaks. “You should try to get some rest. I’ll make dinner, and wake you when it’s finished.”

“Wait!” You grab his wrist when he starts laying you back down. The movement sends bolts of electricity up your arm. It feels like someone has tangled wires within the marrow of your bones and hooked each end up to a car battery. You let go immediately, but the aftershocks continue to linger.

“Relax,” he soothes. He rests you back against him. “Just breathe. It’ll pass soon.”

You press your nose to his collar as you do as he says. The first breaths come out as a hiss between clenched teeth, shaky and shallow. Like a struck cymbal, the pain gradually recedes until where once was a stabbing sting, there’s only a dull ache. Your breaths even out just the same, working to become deeper and more stable. You don’t have to look to know Zayne would have that sad, sympathetic look on his face, unable to do more than hold you and wait.

“That,” you manage a strained laugh, lacking mirth, “wasn’t my best move.”

Zayne makes a sound of agreement, but holds back from chastising you for it. You’d certainly learned your lesson already.

“I was going to say, let me stay on the couch while you cook.” You lift your head to look at him, smiling. “I haven’t seen you since this morning. I had all day to rest, I’d rather spend time near you.”

He frowned. “You barely moved a second ago and were in excruciating pain. How do you expect to make it as far as the door, let alone the couch, without exacerbating things?”

“Easy! You carry me to the couch.”

“As if that’s much better.”

“Please.” Your smile falls to a pleading earnestness, eyes wide and brow furrowed. “I just want to spend time with you.”

He stares at you for a moment, contemplating. There’s frustration in his voice now. “Either I carry you and risk your pain flaring up, or I don’t and you stubbornly make the trip yourself while my back is turned. Do you always have to tie my hands when it comes to your health?”

“Do you really want an answer to that?��

“No, I already know what you’d say.” He sighs, but relents. “Slowly. I don’t want to make things worse.”

It takes several minutes and a lot of careful maneuvering until you were in his arms, being carried like rescued royalty and not like a chronically in-pain partner who just pestered their doctor boyfriend to bring them to the couch. There were some twinges here and there, mainly in your knees and arms, from the way he carried you and the way you held on, but it was only a few degrees worse than baseline, nothing like the pain from before.

He moves steadily, focusing intently on where he’s going and not hurting you. Before long, you’re laying on the couch, covered in a soft knitted blanket and beaming up at the man before you. He tries not to appear flustered by the attention.

“I’ll get you some more water. Do you need anything else?”

“Just one more thing.”

“What is it?”

Your whole body seems to light up with mischief. “A kiss.”

He smiles as he leans down, supporting himself against the arm and back of the couch. You instinctively close your eyes. And open them a second later to glare at him when he just kisses your forehead. The disgruntled noise you make makes him laugh.

“On the lips, doctor,” you tease. “It’s much more potent that way.”

“Really?” He chuckles, breath fanning your face from the proximity. “Did you read that on the internet?”

You roll your eyes. “This is basic medical knowledge! Everyone knows the healing properties of a good kiss.”

“Then I suppose I should ensure my patient makes a speedy recovery.”

You’re still grinning like a fool when he presses a kiss to your lips, and delighted when he doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he takes his sweet time, slowly working to part your lips with his own. He tilts his head, nose brushing your cheek, to indulge in you like the sweet candy he handed out after your check ups. It could have been minutes or hours, when he eventually pulls away. The breath he takes in makes your heart skip several beats. You lean up, hoping to catch it, but come up woefully empty.

You open your eyes, and he’s grinning down at you, a bit smug at seeing the effect he has on you.

“What would you like for dinner?” he asks at a near whisper, voice soft and ever so slightly raspy, full of love. You have to take a second to remember what food tastes like, when all you can think of is how sweet he is.

#fanfic #fanfiction #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace #fluff #chronic pain #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

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