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kjhbsies · 8 months ago

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The Disaster Zone

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Roomate!Abby Anderson x reader

Synopsis: Living with the hottest girl wasn't that bad, right? Except that she was completely straight and has a boyfriend you hate.

wordcount: 7, 758

note: this fiction contains (internal) homophobia and comphet as Abby explores her sexuality. if you were uncomfortable with these kinds of stories, then maybe this isn't for you. please refrain from commenting on any hate comments. thank you and happy reading!

Sweat prickled from your forehead, trickling down your face, and across your neck and you almost yelled in frustration at the feeling of getting overstimulated over everything. You sighed irritatingly, trudging your way outside of the apartment you just viewed.

One week before the class starts and you still haven’t got a place to live and stressful is such an understatement to say. No, it’s much more than that. You never thought that finding a decent place to stay for two semesters wasn’t hard but no — it was like searching for a needle in a haystack, and the needle was just a reasonably priced apartment with no angry roommates.

You grumbled, laying your head on the couch of your bedroom. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through the listings of the apartments available, feeling the stress building with each rejected option.

But to your luck, you stumbled upon someone’s ad. It was a nice, cozy place that was perfect in size for two people. Her name was Abby Anderson, her last name was quite familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint where you heard it. Her place looked promising enough, and the reason she was finding a roommate was that she couldn’t pay all the house bills by herself. Under that, there was a deadline — which was supposed to be today, so you mindlessly hit the ‘call’ button with no second thought.

“Hello?” Abby’s voice came through the other line, her voice was deep and businesslike.

“Hey, uh, I saw your ad for the apartment,” You replied while nibbling through your fingertips.

“Oh, great. Are you interested in visiting it?” She asked, her tone was still cool and detached.

“Yes, please, I need it so bad.” You bit your lips while nervousness came through.

“Alright. Let’s set up a time, then. Are you free this afternoon?”

“Yes.”

“Great. I’ll send you the address.” She said before hanging up quickly.

You stared at your phone for a minute, finding the interaction a bit… awkward. A sense of relief washed over you as the thought of finally finding a place to stay for the whole academic year was done, but something about Abby made you feel anxious. Her coldness scared you for a second — even if you just talked to her for a couple of minutes.

But no, you promised yourself that this was the last time you’d reject a place because of a bad roommate. So you don’t have a choice but to go.

Arriving at the address, you knocked at the door thrice. Seconds later, you saw the Abby Anderson. You gulped, taking in her features. She was tall, stoic, and… unimpressed. She was wearing a simple black shirt that perfectly hugged her toned body, making you gawk mentally. Her eyes bore into yours, looking at you from head to toe. Something inside Abby’s mind twitched as she did not expect how good you looked. But she immediately strayed away from that thought, minding no attention to it.

“Thanks for coming. I apologize for my appearance — I just got off the gym.” She says in a neutral voice, opening the door wide open. “Come on in.”

“It’s fine.” You said before stepping inside.

The apartment was bigger than you expected — much bigger than the photos she uploaded. The furniture was complete and the choice of its design was very intricate and extravagant — you wondered if she bought it all with her money. Maybe she spent her money buying decorations which is why she couldn’t pay the house bills.

The huge windows perfectly let the sunlight in, casting a warm glow through the whole place. You admired how neat it was, and how everything was in place. Not even a small piece of trash in sight. As Abby showed you around, pointing out every amenities and quirks of this place, you couldn’t help but admire her silently.

“So what do you think?” She looked back at you suddenly, making you snap out of a trance.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, I like it.” You shot her a smile. “This was much better than all of the places I’ve checked.”

Abby nodded, taking your answer without further comment or questions. You looked away, feeling nervous at the closeness between you two. With the whole three hours of you and her in just an enclosed space, Abby did not look at you. Something about your presence makes her uncomfortable and she did not know what that is.

But then she looked at you for the second time, taking a couple of minutes to stare at your features without you knowing. Abby did not know why it was so hard for her to accept that you were pretty. No, you were something more than that. And she did not know what that was, or what was doing to her that was making her heart churn.

“Damn it,” Abby looked away and cursed under her breath.

You snapped your neck to stare at her. “What was that?” You asked.

“Nothing. It seems like you are interested. Are you open to discussing the other details?” She said, gesturing at the couch.

And just like that, the deal was done.

And oh, that was one month ago.

You and Abby are still living with each other. But all of your admiration for her was over.

She has a whole-ass boyfriend.

And she’s straight as hell.

Now, you hate each other to the core.

Turns out, Abby Anderson wasn’t renting because she was poor. Technically, at that time, she was. However, you found out that her family was crazy rich and could probably buy your entire bloodline.

The reason that she was finding a roommate to share the apartment with was that her father limited her expenses in the meantime as Abby spent a huge sum of money in the casino while on a summer break, causing her dad to deduct some money from her allowance.

Abby Anderson was the typically rich person you’d meet. She has a puppy she recently adopted one sunny day and she named Oreo — a St. Bernard. Ever since, there has been a new joy in the apartment, breaking the awkward tension between you and Abby that was lingering in the air. You learned how to love Oreo despite his unwavering energy.

Being an only child, Abby doesn’t have anyone to share things that her parents buy her, and developing a trait of being territorial over those she owns. However, seeing you play with her puppy, and how your face lit up every time Oreo cuddled with her, Abby could not put an end to your joy for whatever reason she couldn’t figure out. She just liked to think that she was just being a kind person and to not be an asshole for no apparent reason, and nothing else.

On the other side, you were grateful that Abby was letting you play with her dog. Because, truth be told, you were still getting tensed whenever she was around. And Oreo definitely warms up the place much more.

You didn’t know that being roommates with Abby Anderson could make everything so complicated. She was the top student in class, always ranking high in their department, and was considered one of the top notchers in the university already. Her dad was a famous surgeon in the city and was respected by many, and Abby definitely wanted to prove that she could be like her father — or better. She only has two friends — Nora and Mel, whom you only saw in the hallways of your university alongside her. Abby was a mysterious person, and even though you were now living for a month with her, you did not know much about her.

She wasn’t a talkative person, and you two never interacted with each other so much. You could definitely count the times she has spoken to you with your one finger. Her after school would be changing into gym clothes, making and eating a snack in the kitchen, and then leaving. She would go back at 7:00 PM and would go straight inside the bathroom and into her bed.

But let’s talk about the real issue here.

Her boyfriend.

Owen was a gym rat guy who sported short brown hair, brown eyes, and a small mustache around his chin. Abby introduced you to him when she first invited him over, and you found out that he was much older than Abby. At first, you weren’t bothered by her presence since he seemed okay and not much of a harm. However, as Abby was inviting him over and over again, something inside you grew uncomfortable.

Maybe it was because whenever he was around, you’d often see him giving you dirty looks that sent shivers up your spine, or that he liked to fully make out with Abby in different spots in the apartment outside of Abby’s room, or that every time Owen and Abby were cuddling or doing sweet things with each other, you’d caught her staring at you from time to time.

“Really?!” Dina exclaimed through the phone as you were narrating the last line to her.

“I really do want to know why.” You grabbed a bag of chips before walking away from the kitchen.

“Maybe she likes you?”

You stopped walking when you saw Abby and Owen cuddling in the living room, her head was placed on Owen’s shoulder as they both watched a silly movie. You sighed, “No, I think it’s actually the opposite of it.”

It was an exceptionally good day at Pinecrest University, one of the most prestigious schools in the U.S. which everyone dreamt of attending. From the picturesque sceneries of the landscapes where it was built, and to the educational qualities it provides, it was, in fact, no doubt one of the greatest universities in the world.

Abby did not know whether or not she would be happy that she was given an opportunity to take after her father's steps — follow his path and become like what he is — a great surgeon. In the first year, she was giddy to study, with full of hope and dreams. Everyone recognizes her for being Jerry Anderson’s only daughter, praising her for being intelligent like he was. Abby was every professor’s favorite student as she possesses exceptional skills in everything. While it was good at first, Abby did not like the pressure weighing up on her shoulders as time passed by. Being someone who everyone expects to be good at everything all the time, makes her become careful of her actions as she becomes afraid of making mistakes.

“What?” Leah snapped her neck in Abby’s direction.

“Nothing. Thought I heard something.” Abby shook her head.

“You know what I heard earlier?” Nora looked at Abby, eyes gleaming with mischief with a small smirk plastered on her face.

“What?” The blonde furrowed her brows before sitting on an empty spot at the library.

“Y/n Y/l/n. Your roommate.”

Leah’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped, “You’re roommates with her?” She exclaimed in a hushed tone.

The lines on Abby’s face deepened as she looked at her friends, not knowing what the fuss was about. “What about her?”

Nora was about to say something when, as if on cue, you started to walk behind her, trudging away from their table but not without a quick glance at Abby, who, to your surprise, was already staring at you with curiosity.

You were not one to back down, so you held her gaze up until you sat beside Ellie who was finishing her homework that was due this afternoon.

“Who was that?” Dina asked, looking back.

“My roommate.”

“Oh! The one who–” Dina started gesturing and muttering words that you could only understand.

“What the fuck,” Ellie cursed loudly as she stared at you two with pure astonishment.

“She’s friends with Williams,” Abby uttered with a surprise.

“Yeah, everyone’s been suspecting that they’re more than that,” Nora said.

“Than what? They’re super best friends or something?” Abby folded her arms on her chest before taking a quick glance in your direction. She found you laughing along with your friends, but something inside her was stirring as she saw Ellie’s hands crawling at your torso, dangerously close to where your hips at.

Nora and Leah chuckled loudly.

“What the fuck? Super best friends?” Leah looked at her with pure amusement. “Oh I forgot, you don’t get it–” She turned to Nora. “She doesn’t get it.” She says, pointing her thumb at the blonde.

“Okay, in straight girl terms, Ellie and Y/n might be a couple,” Nora explained.

“But Ellie’s a girl,” Abby says, confused.

Nora and Leah exchanged glances. “You won’t ever get it, can you?”

“What?” Abby’s eyes widened. “Wait– Is Y/n… gay?”

“You say that word as if it’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever muttered.” Nora glared at her. “Yes, she’s gay, Abs. Apparently, she’s a great kisser, too.”

“I can’t believe she’s gay.” Abby sighed, something inside her was growing uncomfortable.

“Abby, that’s a mean thing to say.” Nora frowned. “What if she was? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know! But I mean, I don’t know, it’s confusing.”

“It isn’t. Y/n likes a girl and that shouldn’t change the way you view her. It’s just a sexuality, she’s not gonna bite you.”

Abby stared in your direction, contemplating and thinking about everything. months of studying different kinds of textbooks every week couldn’t prepare her for the said subject. Sexuality was something that she was not well-informed about as the topic stirred something inside of her. Being raised in a conservative and religious family who has a well-known image to take care of made her realize that her world was much different than yours.

After a long day of work in the laboratory, doing research on different chemicals, monitoring their progress, and waiting for the results, Abby felt like she was going to collapse right when she stepped foot onto the hotel’s lobby where your shared apartment was located.

She sighed, forcing a fake smile to greet the receptionist.

“Hey, Liam, did you see Owen come in?” She asked, leaning at the desk.

“No, I don’t think so, Abby.” He says, offering an apologetic smile before attending to another elderly woman who is asking for something.

Being with Owen at such a young age means that Abby had experienced everything that is there to experience whenever you are in a relationship with a shitty person. Sure, she wouldn’t admit that Owen was a bad boyfriend to her, but she knew that he wasn’t a good person either.

Abby sighed before dragging her feet through the floors, growing very tired at each step. Now, if this was the first time that Owen had gone through the entire day without checking up on her, being with clubs with different girls dangling on both her arms, Abby would’ve been crying all her way to her room – just like what she did before. But being the person who became accustomed to this setup with her boyfriend, Abby could only grow numb, only feeling a faint sharp pain dragging through her heart, reminding her that she chose to be with him so she had to deal with it.

Besides, no one ever wants Owen for her.

Not her friends,

Not her dad,

And she won’t be surprised if you’ll tell her that you hate him, too.

“Where are you?” Abby hissed through the phone, feeling the rage consuming her as she listened to Owen stumble and slur through his words, finding great difficulty to even remember who was calling him.

“Abby baby! I’m uh- sorry, I was at a—” Owen’s voice was getting drowned by the loud music, along with different voices from his friends and a couple of giggles from different girls in the background.

“Bullshit.” Abby cursed him before ending the call. She wanted to just quickly disappear right there and then, feeling like an absolute shit so many times.

“Hey,” You greeted, placing a gentle hand around her shoulder.

Abby jolted, almost feeling like your touch was too hot for her skin. “Yeah? You scared me.”

“Oh! Sorry! Didn’t mean to do that,” You apologized profusely, “I thought you were sick.” You gestured to your face, and Abby mindlessly touched her forehead, feeling the cold sweat on the palms of her hand.

She cursed under her breath. Now that you’ve pointed it out, Abby felt her vision swirling as her breathing got labored. Even if she couldn’t look at her face, she could assume that she was pale already. But instead of saying that she was indeed not okay, she dismissed your question by saying, “I’m perfectly fine.”

Abby tried to walk, but then she almost tripped with her fifth step. Before she could kiss the tiled floor, you caught her body, wrapping a delicate arm around her hip to help her stabilize her stance.

“Quit being stubborn, okay?” You said, stopping her from even uttering a single protest when she opened her lips. You looked at her sternly, making her go silent.

As much as Abby hated to be close to you at the moment, she couldn’t move. Not when her mind had shut down the moment your warm fingertips touched her waist, not when your face inched closer to hers, and not when your smell lingered around the air and started to consume Abby whole.

You did not know which force on the entire earth had given you the energy to drag Abby all the way to your shared apartment. To be fair, Abby’s body was toned and muscular, given the time that she was working at the gym, and not only you could feel her weight leaning upon your much smaller figure, but you were also touching her well-earned biceps and abs.

“Okay, lean in there for a second and I’ll just open the door.” You commanded, carefully releasing your grip from Abby’s body as she leaned towards the cold wall while waiting for you to get your keys from the bag. Abby watched you silently with wandering eyes, feeling a sense of disappointment gushing through when you stopped touching her.

“Shit.” Abby cursed loudly while screwing her eyes shut.

“What?” You asked before lightly pushing the door, revealing a very excited Oreo who had been barking since he saw you.

“N-nothing.” Abby stammered when you enveloped her in your hands once again. Her heart thrummed inside her chest, reaching the vibrations to her ears and all she could think about at that moment was your name.

Y/n.

“Abby?” You asked, placing her on the sofa carefully. Y/n.

“Y/n.”

“Is there something I could help you with?” You waved your hand in front of her eyes, making Abby snap out of the trance. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus her gaze on your eyes and your eyes only. But Abby found it so hard especially when your face were so much closer to her that she could feel your breath fanning over her lightly.

“What?” Abby asked.

“You were calling my name.”

Shit.

“Am I?”

“Look, just… lay there and make yourself comfortable, okay? I’m just going to cook for you.”

“Ah, there’s no need. I can order–” Abby opened her phone, face getting sour at seeing her wallpaper — Owen.

“This won’t take long. And I really am good at cooking so trust me.” You flashed her a sweet smile before rushing to the kitchen.

“For sure…” Abby whispers, watching how your skirt dances perfectly as you walk, hugging your curves. When she realized that she was staring at your ass, Abby shut her eyes tightly, pinching her nose bridge while telling herself to get a fucking grip.

True to your words, you were a great cook.

Abby found herself in a blanket-clad position as she sipped at the bowl slowly, not wanting to make it seem that she was so eager to taste the soup. Which, in her opinion, was probably the best one she had ever taken. She was almost thankful that you insisted on cooking for her, instead of buying a delivery from a fast food chain — something that she has always done whenever she was sick.

“Are you feeling better?” You asked, sitting at the loveseat in front of her while brushing Oreo’s fur with your fingers. The dog wags his tail joyfully, making Abby smile.

“Yes. Thank you.” She sighed. “I think I’m just over-fatigue.”

“You should probably rest. Ditch the school works, it’s Friday.”

“I know, I will.” Abby nods.

“Good.” You stood up. “I’ll clean up for a bit. Call my name if you need something.”

“Sure.” Abby put on a tight-lipped smile. You nod before making your way to your bedroom. “I enjoyed it.”

“What?” You turned around, looking at her.

“The soup. It was the best.” Abby bit the inside of her cheek, feeling her face heating up.

You smiled widely, heart swelling with pride and joy as you heard her compliment, “Thanks.” You said before entering your own bed, gently closing the door before you almost squeak in pure bliss.

But that was short-lived as you realized that she’s Abby Anderson.

And she’s way out of your league.

After lounging in her bedroom for a day while ignoring everyone’s texts and calls, Abby had never felt much alive.

Maybe it was due to the fact that she got enough sleep and rest, not seeing Owen, or maybe because of you. As much as Abby still never felt comfortable enough with your presence near her, she was thankful for being roommates with you.

It is true that you two weren’t friends, to begin with. Abby could count on her fingers how many times she talked to you ever since you moved into the apartment. There’s not to say that she wasn’t fond of you, truth be told is — you make her think of so many things that she couldn’t name, or make her feel something she never knew what that is.

However, as much as Abby wanted to go back to ignoring you while she was finally okay, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for helping her when she was sick. So, she decided to ask you out — and it’s just a friendly date just to repay your kindness.

Rays of sunlight pierced through the large windows of your apartment, perfectly illuminating your figure as you stood in front of the full-length mirror and examined your face. As Abby was descending down the stairs, she couldn’t help but stare at your back, trailing her gaze from the ribbons on your hair to the soft plush of your thighs. She immediately looked away, feeling a small sweat prickling down her forehead which she quickly wiped, not wanting to appear nervous or such.

Abby cleared her throat, making you look at her.

“You’re going somewhere?” She asked silently, busying herself with removing dog furs from her shirt.

“Yeah, uh, just going to visit this newly opened cafe. My friend says it’s good.”

Abby nodded, looking away. She tried to guess who that friend was. Was it the curly-haired girl you were talking to in the library? Or the tattooed one named Ellie?

“Are you going with someone?”

“Just me.” You smiled. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah, I would love to.”

Abby has never gone on a date with someone else other than Owen, Leah, Nora, and her father. So being alone with you ignited something within her.

You were sitting across from her, giving her a perfect view of your face. She probably looked at you many times that she couldn’t keep track of her fingers and it scared if you’d think that she was creepy as hell. It’s just that she couldn’t look away, or divert her attention to some other things when a gorgeous girl was in front of her.

You were chatty, telling her some stories from your first year in the University that Abby found so adorable that she couldn’t stop herself from eliciting a small smile on her lips. You liked to joke around, giving some playful banters that Abby found witty. She never thought that talking to you was the best thing she’d ever experienced. She admired how you were so smiley, radiating light and hopeful vibes, infecting her in the meantime, breaking her out of the cold and dark shell she was caged in.

It was fun.

So, so fun.

And she doesn’t know why your company scares her.

“Come on, babe, I’ll do everything you want,” Ellie whined through the phone and your eyes almost rolled off at the back of your head at her dramatic ass.

“Figure it out on your own, Ellie.”

“I’m gonna fail!” She says, shuffling across her room.

“You should’ve thought about that before skipping your classes.”

“Come on,” Ellie answers.

“Why are you so annoying?”

“You love me.” You can imagine Ellie’s smirk. “I’m bringing snacks.”

“You should be.” You rolled your eyes once again before hanging up the phone.

It was 8:00 in the evening, and you were already in your pajama-clad state as you made your way to the dining room with your laptop clutched around your chest. The whole apartment was dimly lit, with only the warm lampshades as the source of light. Oreo was already sleeping on his bed, filling the silence in the air and comforting you.

Abby was nowhere to be found ever since you got in here after school. You waited for her to appear, eating whatever she made in the kitchen which was usually at 7:00 PM, or to make her way to the bathroom, putting on an obnoxiously loud song that you could practically hear from across the room. But she wasn’t here.

You two aren’t exactly friends. For sure, you two got closer when she was sick, but after the date you two had, Abby was back again into ignoring your presence. You did not know what to feel because you thought you were on to a good start now. Truth be told, you wanted to get to know her even more but it seems like she doesn’t really want to.

She was a mysterious woman. You always hear things about her at school. They all say that she was a smart person, always on top of the class. Everyone adored Abby, and you couldn’t blame them for that. You liked her, too, even though she was like that.

Three consecutive knocks on the door put you out of a trance, lightly making you flinch. You screwed your eyes shut before standing up. Of course, it’s Ellie.

She smiled widely, flashing you a toothy grin before lifting the paper bags in both of her hands. You opened the door, letting her in at the apartment.

“Jesus, where’s all the lights? I can’t see shit.” Ellie whispered.

“Don’t be too loud,” You nudged her. “You’ll wake up the dog.” You flicked the switch, opening the big lights just like Ellie liked, revealing the well-decorated apartment. Ellie seemed to be in awe, scanning the whole house. To be fair, it really was pleasing in the eye so you can’t blame her. If there’s one thing you and Abby could agree on, it is the interior design of the place. It was a Mediterranean revival style, taking upon the beautiful Spanish architecture that you both loved. It was a very lovely house, something you didn’t expect to live in.

“Dude your apartment was great!” Ellie complimented, sitting down beside you. She opened her laptop before gathering pieces of paper in her bag.

“Yeah, well, thanks to my roommate.” You shrugged, grabbing a piece of fries that Ellie brought.

You two got working afterward, not wasting any time. You did not want to stay up too late, and on the contrary, Ellie did not want to sleep. She says she has to go to the club at 10:00 PM, hence, she was listening to your instructions carefully, nodding at every word you say, and working seriously. To be honest, Ellie was a smart person. She was just distracted by too many things — girls, clubs, and her guitar which made her have a hard time managing her time. Which was why she was always late in class, sometimes even skipping them unintentionally. It was the reason why her guardian, Joel, kept scolding her.

“You were smart, you know. You just don’t know how to properly execute it.” You said to her as you were cleaning up the mess at the kitchen table.

Ellie smirked while putting her bag on. “I’ll see myself out.” She says, ignoring your compliment.

You nodded, opening the door quietly. “Take care, El.”

“Thank you so much for helping me.” She says, grinning at you while pinching your cheek. You winced at her touch, immediately swatting her hand. Before you could slap her shoulder, Ellie was running through the elevator while giggling. “Bye!” You hear her say.

You laughed, shaking your head at how childish she was. As you were about to lock the doors, Abby’s tall figure appeared in front of you, making you flinch in shock.

“What the hell?” You cursed, placing your hand on your loud beating heart. “Where did you come from?”

Abby’s brows furrowed deeply as she scanned your face, and back to the elevator. “Who was that?” She asked, walking past you. You can sense her irritation as she sits on the couch, removing her pair of loafers.

“It’s… Ellie—”

“Your girlfriend?” Abby looked at you with a stoic face.

“What? No—”

“Well then, why she was here? What could you two be possibly doing late at night?”

“Woah, woah,” You raised your hands in surrender before walking in front of Abby. “Where was this coming from? Me and Ellie were just friends, and we’re not doing anything you’re thinking.”

“And how could I believe that?” Abby stood up, towering over you.

“And if we really were doing whatever you think we were, then it’s none of your fucking business, Abby.”

“It is my business because you are living with me. It is one thing to share a house with a woman who– who likes girls—”

“You can say lesbian. It wouldn’t burn your tongue.” You stopped her, feeling an internal rage boiling into your skin. You were clenching your jaw hard, stopping the urge to punch this woman in front of you.

“Then keep that to yourself. I am not uncomfortable with you doing that.”

Your brows furrowed. “Doing what? Being myself?”

The living room suddenly feels deafening as the silence consumes you two. Abby looked away, arms crossed as her eyes were fixed on the floor. You sighed, shoulders going slump before looking outside the window. Tears started brimming at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill at any second.

“Abby you know I didn’t choose this. It’s who I am,” You say, voice trembling slightly as you gulp, silently wishing that the lump in your throat goes away. “Just like what you are. You did not choose to be straight, and I never got mad at you for that, didn’t I? No matter how uncomfortable it is to find you and your weird boyfriend doing unspeakable things every single week.” You looked and glared at her.

“What? Why are you turning this on me?” Abby’s voice boomed, face going red as anger silently consumed her.

“If you say something about my sexuality, it’s fine? But when I say it back to yours then you’re getting mad? For a very intelligent person, you’re such a fucking closed-minded, Anderson!” You yelled, storming through your room and slamming the door with a loud thud, making the dog wake up in its sleeping state.

Abby stood there for a long moment, staring at your closed door, the weight of her words settling in. She immediately wanted to knock on your door and take it all back. But she knew she couldn’t. The silence that followed her was deafening, a painful reminder of the distance that stretched before you two.

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chatter, but at your table, the mood was tense. Dina almost spat the food she was eating as she looked at you with pure shock in her eyes as you recounted your fight with Abby last night.

“She seriously said that?” She exclaimed, fuming, as she stabbed her food with a fork. “I cannot believe she reacted like that.”

You shrugged, feeling dejected as you played with your food with a spoon, not feeling an ounce of hunger. “I know, I thought she’d understand – I mean, she should be, right? She’s smart.”

“Not smart enough for that kind of talk.” Dina sighed. “Seriously, I cannot believe it. It’s unfair to you, and you shouldn’t deserve to live with that kind of person. Who knows what she might do to you.”

“You’re right. I’m going to start to hunt for another place after the midterms. I just can’t fit in my schedule right now as loads of paperwork start coming and coming in.” You shut your eyes tightly while combing your hair in frustration. “I just thought we were starting to be friends, you know?”

Dina smiled at you sadly before rubbing your back. At that moment, Ellie walked in with a huge grin on her face. She spotted you and Dina at the table and she immediately started walking towards it, but not before playfully bumping and greeting all of the people she knew. She slid beside you before sitting on the empty chair next to you.

“Thanks for helping me with my homework. I got an A.” She threw playful punches in the air.

Dina slapped her. “Shut it.” She says before taking a glance at you.

You smiled at Ellie, the one where it doesn’t meet your eyes. “No worries.”

Ellie frowned, her smile immediately faded as she took in your expression. “What’s wrong? You seem upset.” You sighed, feeling the weight of yesterday’s event pressing down on you again. “It’s Abby. We had a huge fight. She started accusing us of doing things at the apartment and she doesn’t seem to like that I was gay.”

Ellie’s eyes widened in anger. “That’s fucking bullshit! Out of all people, I thought she’d understand that.”

“What do you mean?” Dina asked.

“I mean, is she not gay?”

“Uhm… no. She has a boyfriend.”

“Well, this is now confusing.” Ellie looked at you with disbelief while leaning back in the chair. “I thought she was one of us!”

“Everyone else does. I mean, I do, too, when I first saw her.” You said, shrugging.

“That’s fucking ironic, then.” Ellie sighed. “But she fucking needs to grow up and get over herself.”

“Exactly. Our apartment is always open whenever you need it, okay?” Dina squeezed your hand.

You nodded, feeling a warmth gushing through your veins. You are thankful for your friends as they can ease your problems effectively. Abby’s words pierced right through your heart, but being with Ellie and Dina made it easier to bear.

Abby sat at one of the reserved seats for her at the rooftop of a fancy restaurant that her dad picked for them to have a meal after having time for a small break in his work. Wanting to reconcile and check in with his only daughter, he arranged this small meeting with her.

The place was elegant, with warm lighting from the big chandeliers illuminating the whole area. At the distance was a small band playing jazz music, and the gentle clicks of the silverware created a sophisticated aura. Abby sat across from her father, trying to focus on her meal. Jerry kept stealing glances at her daughter as he cut into his steak, trying to decipher what was wrong.

“Was the food not good?” He asked suddenly after a moment of silence consuming the two.

Abby’s gaze immediately flicked to meet his eyes. Her brows raised in confusion, trying to recall what her father said. “What? Uh… no.” Abby shook her head before sipping into her drink.

Jerry shrugged. “Just that you seemed tensed.”

“I’m not,” Abby responds. “The place is great.”

He hummed, nodding at what her daughter said. “So, how’s life in the apartment?” He asked, his tone casual but probing.

“It’s fine. You know, the usual. I was able to pay for all of my bills, since, well, I got a roommate.”

“And how was she?” He raised a brow. “What was her name, again?”

Abby said your name as she was pushing off her unfinished meal. She sighed, dabbing her lips with the handkerchief. “It’s fine… just a bit tense between us.”

Jerry looked at her with narrow eyes. “It’s fine but tense? What does that mean?”

Abby hesitated, not wanting to answer the question fully. She never knew what her dad would say if he found out that her roommate was gay. Besides, they never talked about that kind of stuff. All that she knew right now, was that she doesn’t want to tell anyone about your personal information.

“Personal stuff came up. I-it’s complicated and I don’t want to talk about it now.”

He sets his fork down, leaning back in his chair. “Personal stuff? Abby, if there’s a problem, you should fix it right away. You can’t just ignore it.”

“I know, Dad.” She answered; frustrations creeping up her voice as what happened that night started replaying in her mind. “It’s not that simple. But I don’t want her out of the apartment or anything… we’ll figure this out on our own.”

He studied her for a minute before nodding slowly, not wanting to press more on that matter. “Alright, but don’t let it become worse. Things like these can get ugly the more you avoid it.”

Abby exhaled a relieved sigh. “I know. I’ll handle it.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence before her father cleared his throat and changed the subject. “And what about Owen? How’s he doing?”

Abby’s face softened at the mention of his boyfriend — wait, she wasn’t even sure if she could still call him that, knowing what happened. She ignored his calls for days, not wanting to be in his presence to get a lot of time thinking about things. Abby thought it’d be best if she could calm down first, set aside her emotions, and be rational for once. She sighed heavily, keeping in her mind to talk to him once her father dropped her off after dinner.

“He's good. Busy with work, as usual, which was why we don’t see each other as often.” She lied, not wanting her father to pry on their relationship. You knew he was skeptical of him since the very beginning. He liked to say that Owen was up to no good and that he was just an older man who didn’t think about his future. As much as Abby tried to argue with him at first, Jerry already formed opinions about him — one that Abby couldn’t alter. But deep inside, she knew he was right. She just doesn’t want to admit it yet.

“I really hope he’s taking good care of you.” He says, eyeing her once again with glaring eyes. “If I ever got the news that he was being a bad influence on you, I’m going to cut all of your cards.” Jerry threatened her.

Oh, right, Owen was the one who insisted on gambling that night, making Abby almost lose all of her savings in her bank account. He also taught her to drink, smoke, and go into different kinds of clubs. You bet how mad Jerry was when he found out everything about it.

Abby only offered a tight-lipped smile, trying to change the subject to lighter topics. Throughout the whole dinner, Abby’s mind was always shifting into your unresolved fight as guilt starts to consume her whole. She knew her father’s advice was great, but she couldn’t bear to do it. Besides, it was easier said than done. For now, she decided to enjoy the meal in front of her, pushing away her worries at the back of her mind.

That night, Jerry decided to drop his daughter off before going into his office. She sat in the backseat of his car, staring out the window as the city lights they passed were blurred by with the speed of the vehicle. Abby tried to maintain her composure, as she tried calling Owen’s phone for the nth time but he wasn’t answering. Each unanswered notification on the screen made her anxiety slowly skyrocket.

When they finally reached their destination, the car came to a stop. Abby immediately opened the car door.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for you?” Her father asked as he pulled up in front of Owen’s apartment.

Abby shook her head, “It’s fine, Dad.”

“Alright. Give me a call if you need anything.”

“I will,” She assured. “Take care.”

With that, Jerry nodded before uttering a small ‘good night’ to his daughter. Abby followed the car's gaze before deciding to head to Owen’s apartment with a heavy sigh.

Abby hated this feeling.

For someone who has been cheated on by the same guy, she did not know why she couldn’t turn numb. She hated the confrontation between her and Owen because she knew that it didn’t always end well. However, she did not know why she couldn’t just walk away from this relationship forever. It was like there’s some force between her that keeps on tangling herself with Owen — no matter how shitty he was. Abby hated how her father’s words, along with her friend’s advice kept on replaying in her mind right now. It made her feel like she was the dumbest person in the whole world.

“For a very intelligent person, you’re such a fucking closed-minded, Anderson!”

Your words rang in her ears repeatedly.

“Fuck it.” Abby cursed, trying to shake those thoughts before knocking on Owen’s door. She stood there for a couple of minutes before speaking once again. “I’m coming inside.” She notified him before fishing out his apartment’s key in her bag.

As Abby came inside, she noticed how the room was romantically lit up — where different pieces of scented candles and dimly lit lanterns were on, casting off a warm glow throughout the room. An unfamiliar woman’s perfume filled her nose, breaking her heart little by little as she strode through his room.

Abby pushed Owen’s bedroom door, revealing him with another woman in his bed.

“Owen?” She asked, voice tensed.

He scrambled to sit up, a mix of shock and fear written through his face. “Abby… I — I can explain.” He immediately grabbed his boxers, putting it in just a couple of seconds.

“Leave,” Abby commanded the girl who quickly complied. She grabbed her clothes before running past Abby, a pure horrified look was written on her face as she left the bedroom.

“I was checking in if you were still alive. And right now, I wish you were dead.” Abby’s jaw clenched.

“You don’t mean that,” Owen huffed, trying to grab Abby’s hand but she quickly moved away from his touch. He shrank, feeling dejected.

“How many times do you have to do this, Owen?” Abby snapped, tears brimming on the corners of her eyes. “What was something I don’t have for you to crave on another woman’s body?”

“It’s a mistake. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Abby sniffed, nodding at his words sarcastically. “Yeah, we’re done. It’s all done forever.” Abby started walking, but Owen was tailing her from behind.

“What? What do you mean?” He asked, completely alarmed.

“I can’t keep wasting my time with you. I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

“You can’t possibly mean that.” His voice boomed, making the blonde face him with bloodshot eyes.

“I fucking do! I am so tired of putting up with your shit. Don’t ever come near me, alright? I am so disgusted at you.” She says before storming outside.

Owen tried calling her name, and a feeling of sudden fear washed inside of him. Of all the times you two broke up about this, he hadn’t seen Abby so mad that she fully said that they were finally done because he knew that she couldn’t bear to part ways with him for good. This was the reason why he was so confident to do those. But right now, she sounded determined, and Owen knew that it wasn’t good.

Abby’s thoughts were spiraling by the time she got back to the apartment. A mix of emotions started forming in her mind, making her heart clench as she stumbled inside. Tears started streaming down her face, making her barely notice that you were fully wide awake while staring at her in the kitchen with a curious stare.

“Are you okay?” You asked, breaking the silence.

Abby’s gaze flicked to your face, down to the food that you were cooking. Pasta. It was midnight and you were cooking pasta.

“W-what?” She asked, trying to focus, but her stomach started grumbling as the aroma of the food filled her nose. “I’m fine.”

You nodded, biting your tongue to ask further questions at her.

“What’s that?” Abby asked, making her way to the kitchen.

Your brows rose as you took a good look at her face. She looked like… a mess. And that’s not like her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Abby sighed heavily before shaking her head. “We broke up.”

“Oh…”

A short silence filled the air as Abby watched you put two plates on the island, filling it with the pasta you’d made. You pushed one in front of her, and Abby looked at you with wide eyes. “For me?”

“I know we’re not on good terms right now. But I don’t want you to sleep like that. Why don’t we eat past and watch movies in the living room? I can sit across from you in case you are uncomfortable and we don’t have to talk with each other.”

“I won’t be uncomfortable…” Abby said in a small voice while looking at the food.

Your brows rose at her comment. You hummed, not buying her words. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry for what I’ve said before. It’s not right.”

You scanned her face, “I don’t know about that.”

“I want to make it up to you.”

“How?”

taglist: @gaptoothedlesbo @st4r-b3rries @ofalcaodacolinablue @sleepydrr @yurixxiii @seraphicsentences @bambishaven @k1ngpin42 @buglikean-angel @eringranola @sennagf

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby x you #abby x reader #abby angst #abby the last of us #abby tlou

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noras-dc-shenanigans · 2 years ago

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Adoption | Learn

“So let me get this straight.”

Danny stared at the group of vigilantes in front of him, a look of utter disbelief etched onto his face.

“Batman had a baby with Catwoman, she hid it from him, gave the baby up for adoption, and that baby is me. And you’re all here because Batman’s other ex also had a hidden pregnancy, but she’s a homicidal maniac who wants to make sure her son is the only blood child because of some weird cult rules?”

If they’d been in a cartoon, there’s be crickets chirping. He continued, voice growing less disbelieving and more angry as he went.

“And because some cult wants to kill me, I have to give up my whole life, cut off all contact with my family and friends, go live in a state 900 miles away, and stay cooped up— for an unknown amount of time— in Bruce Wayne’s mansion, because that’s who Batman really is.”

A stilted silence filled the room of the safe house Danny had been dragged to a few hours ago, sans the unnecessarily long explanation he’d just summarized.

After a few more moments, Nightwing stepped forward and smiled gently at him an oh, that rankled Danny. He did not need whatever kid gloves the guy was about to pull on. Before Bluebell had a chance to open his mouth, Danny channeled his inner Jazz and raised his hand for silence. Nightwing paused, and Danny proceeded to give them all a single, flat, unimpressed look, and then stated factually,

“I’m not leaving, I’m not staying with yet another frootloop billionaire, and I’m not in the least concerned with dying. So. You can all go back to where you belong, I’ll stay here, where I belong, and if any cultist come knocking I’ll deal with them just like I’ve been dealing with every other threat in this town the last six months: alone. Because apparently the entire Justice League is too busy to respond to calls for help about inter-dimensional threats popping in and out of my parents basement on a daily basis.”

… Okay, so Danny may have been yelling a bit by the end, but it was justified! And oh, Danny really wished his life was a cartoon right now, because that cricket chirping would be been perfect. He’s pretty sure he broke a few of them. Nightwing looked ready to cry.

Good. Danny was too tired to deal with this sh*t.

Thanks to the whole Pariah Dark thing last month, Danny was apparently immortal now anyways, so even if the cult people managed to completely destroy his body, he’d just reform in the Zone. Because he was now connected to it, and only another ghost could End him like he had Pariah, because of some weird dimensional rules. Apparently, since humans couldn’t rule the Infinite Realms, they just, like… didn’t qualify to kill him. That went for aliens, demons, gods, and other non-human beings of sentience.

So Danny’s got that going for him at least. About time something useful came outta this whole disaster of a school year.

But he’d gotten off track. Before him stood a truly ridiculous number of vigilantes, and they all looked like he’d just slapped them with a fish and then played violin with it. For a few minutes, Danny just basked in the stuttering and bewildered looks, before he noticed Nightwing drawing himself up in righteous determination and decided that yeah, he was done now.

At this point, being a dramatic a**hole to people (or ghosts) who were annoying him was just second nature, so he straightened to attention, raised his hand in a salute, and then let himself sink through the floor, perfectly stoic.

The stuttering turned to panicked shouts, and Danny’s last view of his apparent siblings was a few people lunging for him and missing, winding up tangled together on the carpet.

‘Ahhhh, yesss, I will treasure that memory always! Ah well, time to get home! Maybe I should scout out for those cult people, mess around with them. Maybe follow them back sometime, meet my half-brother. That could be fun, me and Ellie can make a road trip of it this summer! Maybe by then, the Justice Losers will have gotten their heads out as their butts.’

Meanwhile, back at the safe house, several frantic calls were being made about the dimensional threats and the League of Assassins and the possibly meta human, definitely vigilante brother.

Amity Park was about to get a lot more chaotic.

#DPxDCFamilyWeek #Danny Felton #Batfamily #Danny’s drama was inherited #Danny is a little sh*t #you tell ‘em Danny!

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puffein · 9 days ago

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fireworks at midnight

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader summary: as the world celebrates under a sky of bursting colorful lights, a quiet gallery becomes a setting for a moment that could change everything or nothing at all warnings: angst word count: 1881 a/n: happy new year!! this has been in my drafts so... i hope you guys like this!! love lots!

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The lights strung across the square glowed warmly against the winter night, Wanda told herself she’d stay for one night, just long enough to see the fireworks before she relocates herself into a new small town. She wasn’t supposed to stay for more than 2 months, but the small town has given her something she had never felt before — peace and tranquility. And in just a blink of an eye, Wanda has broken a rule she had never broken before.

The town was nestled in a valley, surrounded by snow-dusted pine trees that stretched toward a pale winter sky. Cobblestone streets would meet her black boots as it wound between wooden buildings and soon their rooftops will be blanketed in soft layers of snow. It was the kind of place where everyone knew each other, where it seems like the whole town is one big family, where time seemed to slow down, and where even a stranger could feel like they belonged — that is if they stayed much longer than what Wanda is planning to.

Despite it being a small town, Wanda pretty much keeps to herself. It gave her satisfaction to know that none of the residents knew who she is and who she was. The people she had interacted with before knew her as Scarlet and only one person knew her as Wanda.

Maybe she did not stay for the fireworks — maybe she stayed for one night for a certain local artist.

“Well, well, well – look who got herself out of her cave.”

That voice.

Wanda’s tensed drawn up shoulders, once pulled up as if trying to shield herself from the world, began to ease. Her hands fisted, fidgeting with the hem of her coat in a restless rhythm began to loosen until they rested beside her body. She sighs, unknowingly clueless to the effect of a certain voice to her protective stance.

Wanda turns, the edge of her mouth twitching so slightly, “Happy new year?”

A hearty laugh surrounds Wanda, “Silly it’s not yet the new year.” A step was taken, soft and carefree, “Happy new year, Wands.”

Wanda’s heart skipped a beat, she blinks, “So– you said you have something to show me?”

Wanda saw your eyes sparkles, shinier than the lights strung loosely across the square. She looks away confused at how her breath hitches.

Soft hands wraps around her arms, a thumb caress softly against Wanda’s coat, “Yes! I almost forgot. Come, come, it's in my gallery.”

Wanda’s eyes wanders at the gentle grip presented at her, she looks up and watches how your face has been casted a soft, golden glow, catching the delicate curves of your face. She sighs watching as shadows dance across your features, accentuating the gentle arch of your brow and the quiet intensity situated in your eyes.

She longed for that intensity – the freedom to feel so deeply, to let her emotions spill without the fear of breaking something fragile or the world around her.

Because the first and only time she had that freedom, it ended in disaster.

Wanda didn’t notice you stopped walking however, she noticed the absence of your warm hands around her arms. She took a step back and looked away.

“Sorry, I had you wait at the square. I didn't know if i’ll be finishing this on time so, i’m at the better safe than sorry zone.” You mumbled, hands fidgeting at the locks of your small gallery.

“It’s okay, I had fun watching the townspeople.”

You turn around quickly, “Have you tried the activities they organized?”

Wanda grimaces ever so slightly, you catch on to that and let out a chuckle, “Sorry for asking a question I already knew the answer to.”

You clamp your hands together, “So– this is a gift for you. I don't know if you'll like this and I don't even know— I just, can you please close your eyes?”

Wanda’s back straightened abruptly, closing her eyes seemed dangerous for her.

“What’s in there for me to close my eyes for?”

Your foot taps lightly against the ground, a rhythm that betrays the nerves you have. Wanda watches as you shift your weight from one foot to another, it was as if your unease had nowhere else to go, spilling out in the constant, anxious rhythm of your feet.

You sigh, gaining courage, “Okay. okay, sorry–” Wanda wanted to say you didn't have to be sorry, but – “Let’s get inside?”

She could only nod and watch as you opened the doors, the lights were off and your steps reverberated in Wanda’s eyes, she watched you switch the lights on.

As you flick the switch, the room illuminates instantly, flooding the small space with soft, golden light, casting long shadows across the floor and illuminating the paintings in their full glory.

Wanda blinked, her breath hitching as she looked around the gallery.

There – in their luminous glory are paintings of her made by you.

Wanda’s body buzzes with different emotions, the nerves in her body seem to be shutting down as her thoughts are buzzing in an unclear manner and she hates that.

The artworks seemed to breathe with life, each of it drawing her in as if the colors and brushstrokes held a secret just for her. The walls of your small gallery were lined with vibrant portraits of Wanda, one painting captured her as if she’s frozen in time, surrounded by swirling colors that hinted at her chaotic powers that she wants to bury deep down — reds and purples. Another was a painting of her standing in the middle, pine trees around her, her silhouette framed by a golden sunset, her face turned upwards into the sky as if contemplating the weight of the world.

But one painting, that small painting, a smaller piece situated right at the center, depicted her as she was now – quiet and uncertain. She's sitting by a window, gazing out at the world, her face soft yet distant like she was caught between two realities. Each strokes of your brush seemed to capture Wanda’s essence, a reflection of the depth and complexity she carried beneath the surface. Heavy and loaded.

That scared her, this scares her— how you seem to understand her by how you captured her in a way that reflects what hidden disastrous turmoil is swirling deep inside her.

This felt different and different things are no good for her. The portraits, the artworks weren’t just images of her, they were fragments of her soul, each of them revealing parts of herself she hadn't fully understood.

Wanda felt exposed, vulnerable.

Has she been that obvious? Is she that readable that you were able to capture her fully.

But despite feeling this, the pieces filled her with a strange warmth — to know that someone had finally seen her in a way she couldn't even begin to see herself felt nice.

Then as if allergic to happiness, Wanda snapped back.

Her mind swirled with confusion. How could you capture this? The thought of you seeing her so completely, unsettled her.

You stood beside her, nerves high as the mount everest, “Do you like them?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, it's like you're afraid of shattering the moment.

Wanda’s eyes lingered on a piece in the center. Swallowing hard, Wanda answers, “I don't know,” she mumbles softly. “It’s— it’s too much.”

It is for her. She knew at the back of her mind, that she stayed longer because of you — stumbling accidentally to your small gallery was a blessing to her, the moments you two shared together was enough for her to stay, to live a life she desperately wanted.

You nodded, stepping closer, your presence grounding Wanda. “I wanted to show you,” you said, voice gentle, “–that you’re more than what you’ve been through. That you’re not just the chaos you feel inside.”

Wanda looks at you, chest tightening.

“I–I had this constant thought that I have to let you see this – because I know, anytime you’ll disappear,” You smile tightly, “I just had to let you see, I just had to.”

The confusion deepend, mingled with something else— something Wanda couldn't name, something she was afraid to let in.

Your warm hands clasped around Wanda’s freezing ones, her hands trembled against yours, as if afraid you’d disappear right before her eyes, but the truth was she was the one already slipping away.

“I told you, like I always do. You deserve to be happy.” you whispered, despite the hushed room the two of you are standing in, your voice was barely audible.

Wanda gave you a smile she always plastered, small and fragile, “Happiness isn't for people like me.” she murmured, her voice trembling slightly.

You could feel it the way she held herself, in the quiet sorrow behind her smile — a smile that was always a little too broken that she wouldn’t let herself feel the good things in life, even the tiniest ones.

You wanted to say more, to tell her that happiness could be hers, that she’s worthy of love but something in her face, dark and impossible to reach, stopped you. You knew you were fighting a war that you could never win, but you had to try, right? For her.

You stayed silent, watching her as she gazed at the paintings of herself, captured in moments of beauty and rawness she never thought she could see.

When Wanda finally turned to face you, eyes locking with yours, and it felt like the world stopped spinning. In that stillness, you saw all her pain, all her love, the chaos buried deep within her, tangled together in a way that broke your heart. You knew it was a love that was pure, yet haunted by something too deep to fix.

Your eyes followed as she took a step towards you, her breath hitching, and before you could say a word, Wanda rested her forehead gently against yours.

You and Wanda didn’t need words, the way her body softened against yours, the quiet tremor of her touch as she grazed your cheeks said everything you needed to know.

She loves you.

She was sorry.

And she couldn't stay.

“Happy new year, my love.” Wanda whispers.

Your heart beats loudly and excruciatingly painful, it was so loud that it could almost deafen the fireworks that had already begun outside.

The burst of colors lighting up the pale sky was beautiful, but it was Wanda that you saw– her silhouette slipping away, walking beneath the glow of the lights. Her hands tucked in the pockets of her clothes, her head down, the color of her hair haunting you.

You knew then, knew in the deepest part of you that she was taking a piece of your heart with her.

And she was gone.

All that would remain was the quiet echoes of her absence, leaving only ashes where something beautiful was once buried.

Your love felt like a fleeting moment, one that never truly began but somehow, had already ended. It’s like a whisper in the wind, too soft to be heard, yet gone before you even knew it had begun.

As the first snow of the year fell, it buried the echoes of a love that was never meant to stay.

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redvexillum · 1 month ago

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A/N: So this is smut with Lute, but it is inherently an Adam x Reader story. FoxSinner!Reader makes a second appearance! Also, @peach-flavored-flambe how dare you infect me with the word "boop" and its uses! It somehow made it in the story!

RedVexi Sickness Update #1: Fevers, chills, coughing, lack of sleep, did I hit my peak for my illness? Will tomorrow be better?

SUMMARY: For the hundredth time, you broke up with Adam, this time telling yourself it was the last straw. But as you stormed away, you encountered an angel, Lute, who seemed to have an intimate past relationship with your boyfriend—err, ex-boyfriend. One thing led to another, and somehow, you both ended up trying to prove who was the better lover for Adam.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, fox sinner!reader, established relationship with Adam, face slapping, one-sided love/interest, Lute hates reader a lot, hate fucking, sex toys, complicated relationship, love triangle (sorta), strap-on, double penetration, overstimulation, degradation kink, reader is emotional and is a bit…ditzy

After the dizzying sounds of laughter, broken glass, and blaring music subsided, your once-cozy home looked like a war zone. Torn red and green streamers hung limp like office workers past clocking out time, and the smell of stale beer clung to the air like a mocking reminder of the chaos. You stood in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes narrowing as they zeroed in on the offending culprit sprawled across your floor.

Adam.

He lay there in nothing but white briefs, his stout body stretched out amidst a halo of crushed beer cans��a parody of snow angels. His mouth hung open slightly, and a faint snore rumbled from his throat, utterly unbothered by the destruction left in his wake. Rage bubbled up inside you, sharp and hot, as your tail swished behind you with dangerous precision.

“Get. Up.” The words escaped your clenched jaw like venom, your teeth grinding together as your ears flicked back. When his response was nothing more than a particularly loud snore, you growled, your patience thinner than the ice you were about to shove him onto.

With a sharp jab of your finger into his side, he jolted awake, snorting loudly.

“Wha—huh?” Adam blinked blearily, his crimson eyes squinting against the dim kitchen light. His hand instinctively raked through his dishevelled brown hair, and as his gaze focused on you, a slow, infuriating grin spread across his face.

“Babe,” he slurred, his voice a drunken drawl, “looking good.”

Your lips curled into a sneer, your eyes flicking down to the tent now prominently pitched in the front of his briefs. Heat rose to your face, though it had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with seething irritation.

“Seriously, Adam?” you barked, your voice rising sharply. His wince only spurred you on. “I told you so many times I didn’t want to have this goddamn party!”

“Relax, babe,” he groaned, his large frame unfolding as he stood. He swayed slightly, towering over you as he lumbered closer. Then, with all the grace of a drunken toddler, he poked your stomach with the tip of his… erection.

“Boop,” he said, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

You froze. Your brain struggled to process the sheer audacity of it all. The boop, of all things, was what made your eye twitch. Of course, Adam—your overgrown, immature boyfriend—had adopted the most cursed word in the human vocabulary. And now, he was weaponizing it against you.

Your gaze flicked up to his smug face, then down to the persistent offending appendage. “Adam,” you growled, your voice low and dangerous. “Stop. That.”

But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t. “C’mon, babe,” he teased, poking you again, his grin widening. “I know what's gonna help you unwind.”

For a fleeting moment, you considered murder. Then your eyes flicked to the aftermath of last night’s disaster—the vomit stains, the overturned chairs, the shards of glass glittering like cruel little stars—and back to Adam. Maybe he could make it up to you. Maybe a good dicking would at least take the edge off your frustration.

“Fine,” you bit out, your voice heavy with resignation. “Get your ass on the bed. Now.”

Adam’s grin morphed into a triumphant fist-pump as he stumbled off toward the bedroom, his childish glee almost endearing—almost.

As you stripped off your clothes and crawled onto the bed, Adam asked you to roll onto your stomach. With a grumble, you obliged, expecting things to escalate quickly—but no. The man had the audacity to leave the room. You lay there, face buried in the pillow, equal parts annoyed and confused. Just as you were about to yell, he waltzed back in like nothing had happened, carrying a sandwich, of all things, and climbed back onto the bed. Well, it wasn't the first time he ate while having sex.

Your body, traitorous as ever, was already eager for what was coming. But when he grabbed the base of your tail, earning himself a startled squeak, and slipped one fat finger into your asshole, the mood took a sharp turn. It wasn’t the act itself that sparked your anger—it was his commentary.

“Boop,” Adam said with zero shame.

Clenching your ass tight around his intrusive digit, you whipped your head around, eyes blazing. “Did you just say boop again?” Your voice dripped with incredulity.

The simmering irritation from him ruining your Christmas plans boiled over. And yet, this? This was the final straw.

You glared at him, catching the unmistakable sight of your precious BLT sandwich in his free hand. He was casually munching on it while simultaneously rubbing the shaft of his cock against your slick folds.

The crumbs.

The audacity.

The absolute disrespect.

“Oh, that is IT!” you screeched, wriggling away from him with a feral determination. Your tail lashed, your ears flattened, and you practically threw your clothes on, rage igniting every cell in your body.

Adam barely looked up, still chewing, as he watched you with wide-eyed confusion. “Wait, what? Babe, what’s wrong?”

You narrowed your eyes at the crumpled wrapper in his other hand, your name scrawled across it in unmistakable all-caps. Something within you snapped, the chaotic storm of emotions inside suddenly going deathly calm. Your voice was eerily steady. “We’re done.”

His chewing slowed as the realization hit. “What?” he mumbled through a mouthful of your sandwich. Crumbs spilled onto the bed as he gestured vaguely. “Now, that’s not very demure of you.”

A single flick of your ear and a twitch of your tail were all it took for him to clamp his mouth shut. You levelled him with a glare that could have reduced him to ash.

“Fuck you,” you said with venomous finality, flipping him the bird as you stormed out.

Behind you, Adam sputtered, sandwich still in hand. “Wait—hold on—was it the boop?”

The icy air of the outside world hit your face like a slap, but it did little to cool your raging emotions. You marched a block away before stopping abruptly, your heels grinding into the pavement as frustration boiled over.

Why the hell were you the one to leave? That was your home. Your territory. Yet here you were, storming the streets of Hell like a runaway instead of standing your ground. Pride, too wild and untamable, kept you from turning back. If you went back, you knew what would happen.

What it always happened.

You’d get pulled into his orbit again, your resolve folding over like a wet newspaper.

But not this time. This time, you were going to be strong. You were going to stand by your decision.

And yet…

Your ears twitched, straining to catch the sound of heavy footsteps behind you. Your heart lurched every time you glanced over your shoulder, hoping—wanting—that he’d followed you. Each time, you were met with the lack of his presence. The pit of disappointment that formed in your stomach was as crushing as it was infuriating.

You hated yourself for wanting him to come after you. For needing it.

The endless cycle of hope and disappointment gnawed at your resolve, each turn of emotions feeding into a bitter spiral of self-loathing. You shoved your hands into your pockets and pressed forward, your footsteps echoing into the streets full of drunk people after celebrating the winter festivities.

You didn’t notice the shadow until it was too late.

A hand yanked you into a dark alley, slamming you against the rough brick wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, and you struggled to regain it, glaring up at your assailant.

“What the fu—”

Your words died in your throat as your gaze locked with piercing dark eyes framed by moonlit silver hair. The presence of the figure before you felt suffocating, oppressive. Your back straightened instinctively, adrenaline coursing through you.

Why the hell was there an exterminator here?

Ever since the Princess of Hell’s infamous battle with the angels, exterminations have been cancelled. It was a victory that dominated every news outlet and social media feed for days. This shouldn’t be happening.

“Apologize to him,” the angel growled, her voice as sharp as a blade. Her fingers dug into your shoulders, her strength bruising.

“What?” you blinked, your mind scrambling to process the absurdity of the demand.

“Apologize to Adam.” Her teeth bared like an animal ready to rip into prey. “How dare you show such disrespect to the Commander?”

“Commander?” Your brow furrowed, the word hanging in the air like a grenade about to detonate. “The fuck are youtalking about?” you screeched, your voice rising in disbelief.

Your tail tucked between your legs instinctively, though you weren’t scared—at least not entirely. Wary, yes. Confused beyond reason, absolutely.

“Let me go,” you sneered, baring your own teeth as your ears flattened against your head.

Her grip tightened. The world felt as though it had tilted, dragging you into a nightmare where none of this made sense.

Her nails dug into your shoulders like talons, sharp enough to sting but not break skin. “You should be worshipping the very ground he walks on,” she hissed, her voice trembling with fury. Her dark eyes burned with unfiltered rage, a mix of contempt and disbelief. “Don’t you realize who you’re even with?”

The words hit like a slap, and for a moment, your brain struggled to process them. You’d never asked Adam about his past—it didn’t matter to you. He was Adam, your lazy, ridiculous, infuriating boyfriend. But now your mind raced, piecing together fragments of information you’d ignored.

Was that pathetic excuse of a man the Commander of the fucking angels?

The thought short-circuited your brain. Your world tilted dangerously, but years of survival instincts kicked in. You compartmentalized, shoving the revelation into a mental box labelled "Deal With Later." Right now, you needed your wits about you.

“Let go,” you gritted through clenched teeth, twisting your body to break free. Her grip was vice-like, but adrenaline gave you the edge. With a sharp yank, you ripped her hand off your shoulder. “It’s none of your business anyway,” you snapped, lifting your chin defiantly.

A surge of satisfaction bloomed in your chest as a flush of frustration spread across her perfect, angelic face.

She crossed her arms, her lips curling into a cruel smirk. “I don’t see what’s so special about you,” she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. “I bet you’re a pity fuck. What did you do? Beg him to touch you because no one else would?”

The taunt was so petty, so juvenile, that it reminded you of Adam’s own infuriating antics. You knew you should walk away, let it roll off you like water. But irritation flared, hot and sharp, fuelling the pettiness surging through your veins.

You whirled around, planting your hands on your hips and mirroring her stance. “And let me guess,” you shot back, your voice thick with venom, “you begged him to fuck you, and he probably laughed in your face.” You let your gaze drift up and down her figure, daring her to react. “What was it? ‘No thanks, not even in your dreams’?”

Her low growl sent a chill down your spine, but you refused to let her see it. Her black spandex suit, patterned with feather-like designs along the collarbone, left nothing to the imagination. A dark wave of jealousy clawed its way into your thoughts.

Did Adam fuck her too?

The bitter thought lodged itself in your mind, feeding your insecurities. You hated how easily jealousy and self-doubt wrapped their fingers around your pride. You knew your flaws—how you hid your vulnerability behind arrogance and defiance. The awareness of your own weakness only deepened the bitterness.

But in Hell, weakness was a death sentence. So you squared your shoulders, tilted your chin up, and faked confidence as you’d always done.

“Oh, trust me,” the bitch purred, her smirk widening into a grin that made your blood boil. “You can only dream of how fucking amazing our sex was.” Her words were a dagger, twisting deep.

You closed your eyes, inhaling sharply as you repeated the mantra in your head. Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the bait.

But, like always, you did.

The dingy sex hotel reeked of sweat, desperation, and bad decisions. The neon-red light from the sign outside bled through the thin curtains, bathing the room in an unsettling glow.

You rubbed your sore cheek, the skin still smarting from where Lute—as she introduced herself—had punched you. The memory flashed in your mind: the sharp crack of her fist meeting your face, your vision blurring for a second before the red-hot rage kicked in.

Now here you were, sitting on the edge of a creaky bed in a room you’d paid for, wondering how the hell things had escalated this far.

Lute lounged against the opposite wall, her arms crossed, a victorious smirk plastered across her face. “Feeling better, sweetheart?” she cooed mockingly, her tone laced with condescension.

You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to lunge at her again. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

The moment Lute smugly mentioned she’d fucked Adam—your Adam—a tidal wave of possessive fury surged through you, so consuming it left no room for rational thought. Words turned into shouting, shouting turned into cursing, and before long, the two of you were rolling on the ground, nails clawing, legs tangling, and pulling hair like feral animals. Somehow, in the chaos, the argument shifted into a challenge: who was the better fuck?

And the only way to settle it? To fuck each other.

Now, standing stripped bare in the cheap hotel room, the gravity of what you’d agreed to hit you like a freight train.

Holy hell… We’re all such idiots.

The thought barely formed before Lute grabbed the back of your hair, her fingers tangling cruelly in your locks. Without warning, she dragged you into a kiss so heated and rough it stole the air from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle; it wasn’t sweet. It was teeth and dominance, sharp bites against your lips, her smirk pressed against your desperation.

And you hated yourself for moaning into it.

The pain from her grip on your hair sent jolts of pleasure down your spine, mixing with the heat pooling low in your belly. You pressed against her without thinking, your breasts flush against hers, nipples rubbing together in electric friction. Her skin was impossibly hot, searing into yours, and when her thigh slipped between your legs, pressing firmly against your dripping core, a strangled cry tore from your throat.

“Look at you,” Lute sneered, grinding her thigh harder against you. Her voice was low, dripping with condescension. “So fucking wet from just a kiss. You’re pathetic.”

“F-fuck you,” you managed to spit out, though the words trembled under the weight of your moans.

Lute shoved you backward onto the bed with effortless strength. Before you could process, something heavy and cold hit your breast—a glittery pink dildo falling unceremoniously onto the sheets. You stared at it in disbelief.

“What the hell is this?”

“Start fucking yourself,” she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. She stood tall, her posture imperious, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and superiority. “I’m not done getting ready, but I want a show.”

When you didn’t immediately move, her smirk darkened. “What’s wrong? Can’t even make yourself cum without help, you useless little slut?”

Her words sent a pulse of heat straight to your core, and you hated the way your body reacted to her degradation. Your thighs quivered, your wetness betraying you. Gritting your teeth, you grabbed the toy with shaky hands. “I’ll show you why Adam chose me again and again,” you shot back, though the trembling in your voice betrayed your arousal.

The dildo was thick, almost intimidating, but the wetness between your legs made it easy to press against your entrance. Slowly, you pushed it in, relishing the delicious stretch, biting your lip to stifle the moan threatening to spill out.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, adjusting your hips to take the length deeper. With one hand, you pumped the toy in and out, your slickness making obscene sounds that filled the room. The other hand teased your nipples, pinching and twisting until they ached in the best way.

Lute stood across the room, donning a strap-on that was almost comically large—angry red with veins that made it look impossibly real. Her toned body gleamed under the dim light, her breasts full and her nipples hard as she watched you writhe on the bed.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted, her voice a low growl.

You ignored her, focusing on the pleasure building inside you, pumping the toy faster and faster. The bed creaked beneath you, your body arching as you chased your release. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, your voice rising. “I’m gonna—gonna—”

A sharp, stinging pain snapped you out of your haze. Your clit throbbed in shock as your eyes flew open.

Lute stood over you now, her strap-on gleaming, her manicured hand raised from where she’d just slapped your sensitive flesh. “Not so fast,” she drawled, her voice thick with amusement.

Before you could recover, her hand came down again, the sharp sound of the slap echoing in the room. Your back arched involuntarily, a strangled mix of pleasure and pain spilling from your lips.

“Beg,” she demanded, her voice dark and dripping with authority. Her body towered over yours, her confidence radiant, as if she had already won.

“Ah!” The cry tore from your throat as your back hit the mattress fully, legs spread wide, the dildo a relentless invader as your hips bucked against it, desperate for more. Your body moved on instinct, shamelessly chasing the aching need pooling in your core.

“Look at you.” Lute’s voice dripped with smug satisfaction, her sharp smile cutting through the haze clouding your thoughts. Her fingers were precise, cruel, landing another slap against your throbbing clit. The sharp sting reverberated through your body, a wicked cocktail of pain and pleasure that left you gasping.

“I knew you were a fucking slut,” she hissed, leaning closer as her eyes bore into yours. The insulting words should have made you burn with shame, but instead, they sent another wave of heat rushing through you. Her confidence was suffocating, intoxicating.

In retaliation—or maybe submission—you bit down on your lip, muffling a throaty moan as your back arched off the bed. The dildo inside you pulsed against your walls, each thrust filling you to your limits. The obscene squelch of your arousal echoed in the room, louder and more frantic as your hips moved faster. You were so close, your body trembling with the promise of release.

Lute, as if sensing your impending climax, doubled down. Her hand struck your clit again and again, each slap harsher, sharper, driving you to the edge. The sound of flesh meeting flesh melded with your cries, creating a symphony of debauchery.

“Oh, fuck!” Your scream tore through the air as the dam broke. Heat burst from your core, a gush of liquid spilling out of you and coating both Lute and the mattress beneath you. Your cries morphed into incoherent moans as you kept pumping the dildo, riding the waves of your orgasm. “Yes, yes, yes—more, more, more!” The words spilled from your lips, uncontrollable, desperate.

“Fuck, you make such a disgusting mess,” Lute spat, though her flushed cheeks and heaving chest betrayed her own arousal. Before you could recover, she grabbed your wrist, ripping your hand away from the dildo. She pressed its base deep into you, forcing the tip to kiss your cervix.

The sharp intensity of the stretch sent a strangled cry out of you. “Oh, fuck!” Your hands clawed at hers, trying to ease the overwhelming pressure, but she pinned you in place. Her free hand found your nipple, twisting it with cruel precision.

“Look at you,” she sneered. “You can’t even handle this, and you think you’re worthy of him?”

“Fuck you,” you gasped, your body betraying you as the pain began to blur into pleasure.

“I bet this isn’t enough for you, you insatiable whore,” she growled, her tone laced with venom. Without warning, she flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up sharply.

The familiar position sent a spark of recognition through your fogged mind. This was how Adam liked to take you—how he knew you liked it. A pathetic yowl escaped your lips when Lute grabbed your tail, the tug sending a jolt of pain and pleasure through your trembling body. Your saliva dribbled down your chin as your cheek pressed against the mattress, your body arching into her dominance.

The dildo inside you felt impossibly large, your walls fluttering around it as anticipation coiled tightly in your belly. You hadn’t taken two cocks in so long, and the idea alone had your pussy clenching around the toy.

Lifting your head slightly, you glanced over your shoulder. Lute’s flushed face, her eyes dark with lust, zeroed in on you like a predator. Her gaze lingered on your exposed ass, her intent clear.

Swaying your hips, you smirked. “Oh, trust me,” you purred, your voice dripping with provocation. “Adam—” Her expression faltered slightly at the name, a flicker of insecurity cracking through her mask.

“Adam loves to fuck my ass,” you continued, dragging the words out slowly, savouring her reaction. You began to move the dildo in and out of your dripping cunt with deliberate slowness, moaning loudly for effect. “He can’t get enough of my pussy and my ass.” You arched your back further, your hips pushing up enticingly. “Isn’t that why he’s constantly fucking me instead of you?”

The words were a dagger, aimed to wound. And by the way Lute’s lips curled into a snarl, it had struck its mark.

A sharp slap echoed through the room, the sting rippling across your skin and leaving behind a fiery warmth. The pain dissolved almost as quickly as it came, replaced by the shocking, relentless intrusion of Lute filling your tight ring of your ass. She didn’t ease her way in—she claimed you with a force that left you gasping. The stretch burned deliciously, a stark contrast to the rhythm of her hips as they surged forward with unrelenting purpose.

You felt overwhelmed and in response you moaned, low and throaty, your body arching into hers. The obscene slickness of your drool coated your lips, dripping onto the sheets as every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you. She filled you completely, both cunt and ass stretched to their limits, her movements precise yet feral, striking every nerve that made you tremble.

“You really thought you could leave him?” Lute growled, her voice a mix of derision and lust. Her nails bit into your hips as she yanked you back into her thrusts, burying herself even deeper. “That he’d come crawling after you, begging like some love-struck fool?”

Her words were as sharp as her movements, cutting into the haze that had overtaken your mind. Emotions churned wildly—shame, desire, anger—all tangled together in a chaotic storm you couldn’t control. Your body, however, had no such conflict. It betrayed you completely, you gripped the dildo in your slick folds and moved in time with her pounding thrusts.

“Adam!” His name tore from your lips in a raw, guttural scream. It wasn’t a conscious decision; it was instinct, a plea from a place deep within you. Sobs wracked your chest as pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, your pussy convulsing around the thick toy. The orgasm was devastating, a reminder of how thoroughly he’d ruined you—mind, body, and soul.

The room fell eerily silent as you lay there, trembling, your breath hitching in uneven gasps. Lute’s hands never faltered. She rolled you onto your side again as if you weighed nothing, her strength unnerving yet exhilarating. She grabbed the dildo from you and moved with a slick, obscene rhythm, each thrust sloppy and wet. You clawed at the sheets, your body pinned beneath hers as she drove you further into submission.

There was no reprieve. Lute’s lips descended on your swollen clit, her tongue working circles that made your thighs quiver. Every nerve felt like it was on fire, the sensations building to an unbearable crescendo. Tears slipped from your eyes as your body jolted under her expert touch, writhing as waves of pleasure blurred the edges of your consciousness.

“Ah… ahh…!” Your cries were incoherent now, reduced to desperate, broken sounds. Lute’s stamina was as merciless as her demeanour—she never faltered, her thrusts rhythmic and punishing, her tongue a relentless torment against your most sensitive flesh.

Time lost meaning. The room dissolved into nothing but the wet, slick sounds of your bodies and the heady scent of sex that filled the air. Your legs trembled as exhaustion tugged at the edges of your awareness, but even as your body began to give out, she didn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop.

Her stamina rivalled his. No, it mirrored his. And with that realization, dread and anticipation coiled in your stomach. You knew she would push you past every limit, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you until you had nothing left to give. Even unconscious, you were certain she’d find a way to make you submit.

Your body burned with a pleasure so intense it felt sinful—like a divine punishment crafted for a sinner like you. Maybe you deserved it, you thought, the fleeting notion lost in the cocktail mixture of sensations. You were too far gone, too consumed by the overwhelming heat, the slick press of her body against yours, the ceaseless rhythm that stole your breath and fractured your mind.

And then, finally, sweet oblivion overtook you. The sounds of your body, your cries, your moans faded into the void, leaving you adrift in a dark, silent expanse where nothing else mattered.

Lute heaved, her chest rising and falling as she stood over your wrecked, sprawled form. The dildo in her hand was soaked, glistening with your juices, and the room reeked of your debauchery. Her eyes flicked to the darkened spots staining the sheets beneath you, evidence of your squirting with every climax she’d wrung from you. She bit the inside of her cheek, bile rising in her throat at the thought of how Adam had always loved that—the mess, the chaos, the rawness of it.

“Super hot,” he’d called it.

Her gaze drifted lower, settling on your used pussy. It fluttered weakly, twitching in the aftermath of her relentless assault. She ripped the strap-on harness from her hips, her hands trembling with something she couldn’t name—frustration? Hatred? Envy so raw it felt like it would consume her?

This was the cunt. The one Adam had fucked endlessly, obsessively, ever since his damnation. Her teeth clenched so hard it hurt.

Her eyes burned as she looked down at the dildo slick with your juices. Slowly, she pressed the head of it against her entrance, her breathing shallow. She let herself imagine—for one fleeting, painful second—that it was him. That he was here, pressing into her, taking her apart with the same fervour he’d given you.

The thought sent a violent shudder through her body. Anger swirled with frustration in a maelstrom of emotions that left her shaking.

Why?

Why did it have to be you?

Why couldn't it have been her?

Lute’s nails dug into her palm as she stared down at you. She’d been by Adam’s side for centuries—since the day she’d pledged herself to the Exterminator’s cause. She had fought beside him, bled beside him, held his dying form in her arms during that final battle. If anyone deserved to be next to him, to be his, it was her. Not you. Not some temperamental fox demon whose mood swung as wildly as Hell’s weather.

Her lip curled, hatred twisting her features as she thought of how effortlessly you’d stolen him. But before she could act on the anger roiling inside her, a sudden knock at the door startled her.

She froze, her pulse hammering in her ears. That was... unexpected. Glancing at the clock, her brow furrowed. Their time shouldn't be up yet.

The knock came again, louder this time, insistent. Her head whipped toward the door, her breath catching in her throat. Tossing the dildo aside, she scrambled to find her clothes. Whatever was on the other side of that door, it was a threat. She was sure of it. A Sinner, perhaps. Maybe even one of your pathetic, desperate allies.

But as she reached for her Angelic Steel weapon, she froze.

“Babe?”

Her blood ran cold.

The voice was unmistakable.

“I know you’re in there,” Adam called from behind the door, his tone light but carrying that same commanding edge she remembered all too well. Another knock followed, firmer this time, shaking the door on its hinges.

Her heart raced, the sound of it pounding in her ears like war drums. She hadn’t seen him—truly seen him—since that battle, since she’d cradled his broken, bleeding body and watched the light leave his eyes. Since she’d learned he had fallen, damned to this place.

And she had followed him, hadn’t she? Not openly, not brazenly, but from the shadows, drawn to him like a moth to flame. She had watched him, studied him, but never once dared to face him. How could she? He was everything she had been taught to loathe. A Sinner. The Sinner. And yet, here he was, standing on the other side of the door.

Slowly, her trembling hands reached for the handle. She cracked the door open, just enough to see him.

Her breath hitched.

He hadn’t changed. Not really. The soft brown hair that curled at the ends, the sharpness of his goatee, the confident grin that had always set her pulse racing—it was all still there. But his eyes, oh, his eyes were sharper now, darker. They pierced through her like a blade, and she could feel her heart squeezing painfully in her chest.

“Si—” she started, her voice barely a whisper.

But Adam cut her off, brushing past her with the ease of a man who had nothing to prove.

“Damn,” Adam muttered, his eyes softening as he looked down at the fox sinner lying unconscious on the bed. His tone was warm, almost affectionate. “If you wanted a good fuck, you should’ve come to me, sugartits,” he said with a smirk, effortlessly picking you up in a bridal carry, your limp form cradled against his chest. “Ah, shit, I should probably cover you up before you get pissed at me for flashing the entire streets of Hell,” he chuckled softly to himself, the tenderness in his voice as natural as breathing.

Lute’s blood ran cold. Her eyes burned with a fury that threatened to consume her whole. She watched the scene unfold with a bitter, seething resentment. This was the man she had devoted everything to—her loyalty, her love—and here he was, cradling that bitch like you were the most precious thing in the world. The way he cared for you, the way he held you so gently—it made her want to tear her own heart out. Adam had never looked at her like that. He had never held her like that. She had given him everything, and now he was throwing it all away for a cheap sinner.

For you

She wanted to scream. She wanted to shatter something, to make him see her, to make him feel her. The pain twisted in her chest, and a furious, bitter laugh bubbled up from the depths of her throat.

Adam turned to leave, his attention on the door, but Lute stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Her chest heaved with desperation. She couldn’t just stand there and let it happen. She couldn’t just let him walk away from her without at least trying to make him see.

“Sir, I—” her voice cracked, her heart pounding in her throat as she reached out to him.

Adam stopped, looking at her with a flicker of curiosity. He didn’t even seem annoyed. His gaze was more... bemused. He tilted his head, his lips curling into a slight smirk. “You’re sort of in my way,” he said lazily, the words like ice in her veins.

It hurts. The words she had wanted to say to him, the things she had wanted to plead, now stuck in her throat like shards of glass. She had tried for so long to fight it, to hold on to something, but now she saw the truth. She wasn’t the one he wanted. She wasn’t the one he needed.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she swallowed down the bitter rage that threatened to spill over. This was the man she had fought beside, bled for, and fallen in love with—and now he was walking away, without even a second glance. She wasn’t even a thought in his mind.

“How could you?” Lute spat, her voice sharp and full of venom. “How could you live like this? Where’s your honour, your faith, your—”

He snorted, a cynical laugh escaping his lips. His eyes, red as blood, flickered with something dark. “We’re in Hell now, Lute. What honour? What faith?” he said, his voice flat, resigned. The coldness in his tone stung her, as if he had completely given up on everything they had once stood for. The man she had loved—worshipped—was gone, replaced by this hollow shell.

Her heart shattered all over again. “Y-you’ve changed,” she managed to choke out, her voice raw. It wasn’t just the words, it was the realization that he had completely slipped away from her, that everything she had once thought was solid and real was reduced to less than dust.

Gone.

"Uh, duh," he muttered, his tone so casually dismissive it felt like a slap. His eyes didn’t even linger on her as he adjusted the fox sinner in his arms. There was a tenderness there that Lute could never seem to get from him. He didn’t look at her the way he looked at you. "I kind of have horns now, like actual horns, and I’m in Hell,” he said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Lute stood there, the anger swirling inside her like a storm. “We could change that,” she said, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. She had said this to herself a thousand times before, rehearsed it in her mind like a mantra. “We could go to the Seraphim and beg them to reconsider. We can—”

“Lute,” Adam’s voice was soft, but it was enough to silence her. That soft command, the one that had always made her want to kneel before him, now closed her mouth with a force that felt like a blow. She looked up at him, seeing that tired, resigned expression on his face—the man who had once been so full of life was now defeated, broken. “I can’t go back up there anymore,” he said simply, like it was a fact she should have already known. “The big man upstairs saw fit to bring me down here, so you and I both know it’s impossible.”

“No,” Lute whispered, her voice trembling as she took a step closer to him. She had to try. She had to make him see. She reached out, desperate, her fingers brushing against his arm. “It’s not impossible. It’s not impossible.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “One of the residents from that hotel—the snake sinner—he… he made it into Heaven, sir.”

The words hung between them like a suffocating fog. Silence stretched out, heavy and unbearable. Lute’s heart raced, hope flickering in her chest even as the truth sunk in. She knew—deep down—that Adam had already made his choice. And it wasn’t her.

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes unreadable.

Adam’s chuckle started low, almost like a whisper, a dark, bitter sound that sent a chill crawling up Lute’s spine. It grew, slowly, until it broke free, rippling through the room in a full, boisterous laugh that seemed to mock everything they had once fought for. His shoulders trembled with the force of it, a laugh full of cynicism, full of sorrow, full of something Lute could never name but felt in the very marrow of her bones. And then, as quickly as it had come, the laughter faded, leaving only the heavy silence of a man who had long given up on anything pure, anything worth fighting for.

Adam walked past her without a glance, his presence like a storm she couldn’t escape. He paused just before the threshold of the door, casting one last glance at her without ever really looking at her. She felt it—a hollow emptiness, as if he had already made his choice and it didn’t include her. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured softly, as though to himself. But the words cut through her like a knife. “Maybe my sons didn’t have to die after all.”

Lute’s heart stopped. Her blood turned to ice. She was desperate to stop him, to make him understand, but the words caught in her throat. He was already walking away, retreating down the hallway like a man who had finally lost his soul. She scrambled toward the door, calling his name over and over, her voice frantic, raw with desperation. “Adam!” She could feel the tears beginning to burn at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not yet. “Adam, please!”

But he didn’t turn back.

Not once.

Not ever.

He didn’t even spare her a second glance as he walked away, each step taking him further from her, further from everything she had ever believed in. The very man she had respected, the very man she had loved with everything she had, was leaving her behind in a trail of dust and broken dreams. He was walking away from everything they had built together. From everything they had fought for.

And it hurt.

It hurt more than anything she had ever felt before. More than the battles they had fought. More than the pain of losing her faith. More than any wound ever inflicted upon her by another.

He turned his back away from salvation.

He turned his back away from faith.

He turned his back away from her.

And in the silence that followed, all Lute could do was stand there, lost in the shadows of a love that would never be returned.

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bambi-slxt · 4 months ago

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🤍𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

word count: 1.6k

genre/tropes: established relationship, hurt/comfort, all fluff

warnings: reader is on her period (fic inspired by me being sick as fuck for a month)

notes from bambi: chris takes care of reader on her period (does not include period sex). don't like, don't read - if you do read, please enjoy! <3

It probably ruined the mattress too. Fuck.

"Chris, baby.." You shook him gently awake. "I'm really sorry but can you go sleep in Matt's room?"

He yawned, a massive, snake-like yawn, unhinged jaw and all. "What're you talkin’ about, ma."

You grimaced, unwilling to go into gruesome detail. "I, um...

Chris blinked away the sleep from his eyes and took in the scene before him. Dark blood had soaked through his bedsheets—quite a bit of it. “Oh fuck, are you ok-”

“Yeah, I just–no, don't look at it, I promise I'll take care of everything, I'm gonna wash your sheets and if you need a new mattress I'll get it, I'm so sorry, Chris please, just…just go sleep with Matt.”

While you spoke, Chris sat himself up and slipped off the other side of the bed, his face fallen with empathy. “‘M gonna help. Come on, let's strip it.”

Your stomach twisted. “No, Chris. I don't want you to see this, I don't even really want you to see me right now, please just go.”

Chris padded around the end of his bed, walking towards you with his achingly familiar gait. “Come here, babygirl.”

Tears, hot and stinging, pricked your eyes, and they began to flow as his arms enveloped your body. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” You tucked your head into his neck, hands clinging to his shirt like a child while his hands stroked up and down your back, your chest heaving and hiccuping with cries. It was all bullshit, this whole thing.

“Don’t gotta be sorry. It’s okay. I got you. M’ not goin’ anywhere. Easy, pretty girl. Take it easy.” Chris murmured his reassurances gently as you stood together in his dark room.

“Thabnk you,” you sniffled, nose stuffed. “I’m gonna shoot myself directly into the sun.”

He coughed out a laugh. “Don’t do that. Come on, let's take care of the bed and we can go shower, yeah? Get y’ cleaned up n’ shit, okay?”

An apologetic but appreciative smile cracked its way through your features. “Okay.”

Chris’s hands slipped away and cradled your face with as much tenderness as he could muster. “There’s my girl. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You leaned into his touch, looking up at him through tear-soaked lashes. “Hey, baby,” he whispered. “My pretty girl.”

With another sniffle, you finally tore yourself away from his embrace and stared decisively at the disaster zone. Yanking the comforter off, you and Chris began to silently unmake the bed, working in a quiet tandem that would have been comfortable if not for the subject at hand. Balling up his sheets, you stepped around him, making sure your arm brushed his back as you passed, and stepped carefully up the stairs. About halfway up, your ears alerted you to another set of footsteps behind you and you turned to address him. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to-”

“Shh. What if you get lost?”

“...I’m not gonna get lost.”

“Or kidnapped? Ever think about that?”

“I can honestly say that a home invasion resulting in my abduction hasn’t crossed my mind in years.”

Chris huffed and nudged you up the stairs again. “Skill issue.”

Another unexpected smile stretched your lips. “Shut up.”

A soft light emanated from Matt’s room - he must still be awake. “What time is it?” you murmured, sliding open the folding door to reveal the washer and dryer.

Chris shrugged, reaching above your head for the stain remover. “Time doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“What?” You took the bottle from him and rifled through the heap of sheets.

He chuckled, quite proud of his ability to drop conversation-grenades. “Like, the numbers we put with time, they don’t add any meaning to it. Numbers are just a way for us to measure something we don’t understand.”

You turned to him slowly, in utter disbelief. “All that raw, incredible intelligence…remind me again how you spell tw-”

“Okay, enough,” he grumbled, snatching the sheets from you. “Here, gimme that. You’re doing it wrong.”

You snickered softly, wrapping your hands around Chris’s arm as he scrubbed the magic soap into his sheets. “Wait, no, you don’t have to do that, hold on, let me just-”

He bumped you out of the alcove with his hips. “Stop. I got it. Doesn’t bother me, ma, I promise.”

“...But I feel bad.”

He shrugged, hands still working the solution through the accidental mess you’d made. “Don’t feel bad. Problem solved.”

“Okay but like…it’s embarrassing. I don’t want you to see this and associate it with me.”

Chris tilted his head and turned to face you, leaning on the dryer to stabilize himself. “You’ve cleaned up worse things that’ve come outta’ me. Y’ any less attracted to me?” You shook your head, wrinkling your nose even still as you remembered his week-long recovery from food poisoning. “See?” Chris held out his hands. “Come here.” You sighed when you settled against his chest once more. “I’m gonna see you do some embarrassing stuff, and some gross stuff, and you’ll see the same from me.”

You grinned in spite of yourself. “Or worse.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair, “Or worse. Look at me.” Raising your head to meet his gaze, you felt his thumb underneath your chin - not to force you, but just to touch you. “I don’t love ya any less. M’ not any less attracted to ya. I don’t want you to be perfect, I want you to be real and I want you to be mine. That’s all I’m askin’ for, babygirl.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, taking in his words and holding his gaze. “You’re so sweet.”

A soft blush lit his cheeks and he turned away to smile. “Shut up.”

After dropping the offending sheets into the washer, Chris managed the dials and left it at that. “You wanna go get cleaned up?”

You nodded profusely. “I feel disgusting.”

“Come on, then. Gonna run you a shower to get all that blood off you and then we can just soak in the bath,” he murmured, beckoning down the stairs for you to go before him. “Ladies first.”

“Why, thank you, sir,” you replied, taking his hand daintily and attempting to saunter down the steps to his room and adjoined bathroom.

“You look like those geese ladies from that old cat movie,” he snickered, following you with a hand wrapped around your outstretched fingers.

“The Aristocats? I fucking love the Aristocats,” you said.

“Wanna watch it later?”

“Yessss.”

Chris chuckled again and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Lemme get the water warm.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I like taking care of you.”

Now it was your turn to blush. “Shut up.”

The gentle shhhh coming from Chris’s bathroom washed over your ears as you slid the ruined pajama pants down to your ankles. “Gonna have to wash these too,” you growled, balling them up and throwing them at the corner.

“I’ll do that,” Chris said, “Get in,” and he pointed forcefully to the shower.

“Oh my god it’s so warm in here,” you groaned happily, feeling it soak your skin and warm your body.

“Not too hot?” he asked, closing the sliding glass door almost all the way.

“Perfect.” Securing your hair out of the way, you let the water flow down your body, taking all the dark stains with it and disappearing down the drain. You didn’t even notice Chris leave.

The lighting in his bathroom was soft and easy on the eyes. You pulled your soap off the tile-inset shelf and opened it over your chest, letting the cool gel coat your breasts and stomach. Frugality held no bearing on your mind tonight - you earned this small luxury.

The door opened again. “‘M back, baby.” Chris leaned against the wall that upheld the shower, turning his head to meet your eyes through the glass door. “You feelin’ better?”

You nodded, smearing the now-sudsy soap over yourself. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Taking care of me.”

Chris smiled, though it was tinged by sadness. “Of course I take care of you. And ‘m sorry you thought you had to do all that, you know…by yourself.”

You returned his ached smile. “I'm sorry I bled on your mattress.”

“It’s not a death sentence, babygirl, it’ll be alright.”

You stepped back into the water stream, and let it send the last spots of blood into the drain. “So will I.”

When you awoke again, it was on the couch. The white couch. Scrambling to your feet, your eyes darted around in horror - but no red marks greeted you.

“You’re okay, baby,” Chris said softly. He stood shirtless in the kitchen, standing over a sizzling pan. “Brought you up here cuz’ you didn't want me to leave you alone in bed.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to regain memory. “But I never…I don't remember putting a-”

“I put a towel underneath us so you could sleep naked like you like,” he said with a smile. “You remember wakin' up this mornin’?”

“Yes…Oh Chris…” A blush flamed across your cheeks at the memory of him holding your hips, running a soft, cool wipe over your folds at your behest. “I shouldn't have asked you to do that, that was weird and gross and-”

“Shut up.”

“No, really, that was-”

“Hey.” He clicked something on the stove and walked over to the couch, cupping your face with his hand. “I was happy to do it. I told you, I like takin’ care of you. Besides, what kinda man would I be if I was scared of a little blood?” His thumb brushed over your cheek. “It’s okay. I promise.”

Tears pricked your eyes, and your chin felt a little shaky. “Thank you.”

“‘Course,” he grinned. “Come on, food’s ready.”

notes from bambi: hope you liked it! i'm such a sucker for soft!chris

#bambi slxt #the sturniolos #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #the sturniolos fluff #sturniolo triplets fluff #the sturniolo triplets fluff #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic fluff #christopher sturniolo fanfic fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo x you

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mya-valentine · 3 months ago

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Sweet Chaos

Synopsis: When a simple baking session turns into a full-blown disaster, the reader’s clumsy antics leave Bakugo covered in flour and their kitchen in shambles. Between playful teasing, accidental messes, and stolen kisses, the couple discovers that sometimes the sweetest moments come from the most chaotic situations.

The warm scent of vanilla and sugar filled the kitchen as you and Bakugo stood side by side, surrounded by an array of baking ingredients. You were attempting to make cookies—a simple, sweet gesture that you thought would be fun and romantic. Of course, fun and romantic weren't the first words that came to mind when thinking of Bakugo, but you loved challenging him to step out of his comfort zone.

"Oi, don't screw this up," Bakugo grumbled, glancing at you as you fumbled with a whisk.

You offered him a playful smirk. "What, you don’t trust me in the kitchen, babe?"

"Considering the last time you tried to cook, we had to call the fire department? No, I don't." His lips twitched like he was trying to hold back a laugh.

You gasped dramatically, clutching the whisk to your chest. "That fire was not entirely my fault! The stove was being temperamental."

Bakugo just gave you a side-eye, not buying your excuses for a second. He leaned in, close enough for you to feel the heat from his body, and murmured, "Just don't get flour all over the damn place. I don't have time to clean up your mess."

"Mess? What mess?" You grinned, reaching for a bowl of flour, deciding to prove your point by walking it over to the counter. "I’m the picture of grace and poise!"

In that moment, it seemed fate had a different plan. As you turned with the bowl in hand, your foot caught on the edge of the mat beneath you. You lost balance in an instant, flailing as you tried to regain your footing. The bowl of flour, unfortunately, did not share your determination.

Time seemed to slow as you watched in horror, the white powder flying into the air like a mini snowstorm—directly onto Bakugo.

"Shit—!" Bakugo's shout was muffled as he was instantly coated from head to toe in a fine dusting of flour, his ash-blond hair now stark white, his expression a mix of disbelief and growing annoyance.

You froze, standing there with wide eyes and your hands still outstretched in an effort to catch the bowl, which now lay upside down on the floor, flour spilling everywhere. There was a beat of silence, and then you couldn't help it—a giggle escaped your lips, quickly followed by more.

"Are you serious?" Bakugo growled, glaring at you through the haze of flour. But the longer you looked at him, the funnier it got. His once-pristine black t-shirt and jeans were dusted with white, his face a perfect mix of exasperation and disbelief.

You doubled over, clutching your stomach. "I—I'm sorry! I didn’t mean to!" you choked out between laughs. "But you look so—so cute!"

Bakugo’s glare intensified, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Cute, huh?” His voice was low, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You think this is funny?”

You straightened up, wiping away tears from laughing. “A little?”

Before you could blink, Bakugo was grabbing another handful of flour from the counter and flinging it right at your face. The white powder hit you square in the forehead, covering your hair and shoulders in an instant.

“Hey!” you squealed, brushing the flour from your eyes. “That’s not fair!”

“You started it,” Bakugo retorted, his smirk now fully in place. "You wanna keep laughing?"

You narrowed your eyes playfully and grabbed a handful of flour from the counter. "Oh, it's on, Katsuki."

What followed was nothing short of chaos. A flurry of flour flew back and forth between the two of you, mixing with the sugar you’d already spilled earlier. Every time you tried to get the upper hand, Bakugo was one step ahead, moving with the speed and precision of the pro hero he was. But even he wasn’t immune to your relentless flirty teasing.

"Nice aim, but you're still covered," you teased, pointing to the flour in his hair.

He rolled his eyes, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "You're one to talk. You look like a powdered doughnut."

"Aw, are you saying you'd take a bite out of me?" you teased, leaning in closer.

Bakugo’s eyes flicked to your lips, and his smirk deepened. "If you weren’t such a klutz, maybe I would."

You flushed at his words but shot back, "Maybe I'm just distracting you on purpose."

"Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?"

As you leaned forward to kiss him, your elbow knocked over a carton of eggs that was precariously perched on the edge of the counter. They hit the ground with a loud crack, egg yolk spreading across the kitchen floor.

You both stared at the mess in silence.

"See what I mean about you being a klutz?" Bakugo finally said, his lips twitching with amusement.

You sighed dramatically, throwing your hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay, I admit it. I’m a disaster in the kitchen. But you love me for it."

"Tch. Yeah, yeah, I do." He grabbed a rag from the sink, tossing it to you before bending down to help clean up the eggs.

As you both worked to tidy the mess you made, you couldn’t help but notice how despite all his grumbling, Bakugo stayed patient. He didn’t snap or get angry—he just… tolerated it. You smiled to yourself, feeling the warmth of his quiet affection.

When the eggs were cleaned up, you finally got back to baking. Well, trying to. You spilled sugar on the counter, almost dropped the mixer, and somehow managed to get cookie dough all over your apron. But Bakugo was there, steady and calm—despite his snarky comments. He'd fix what you messed up, silently guiding you through the steps, though he would never admit he was actually having fun.

By the time the cookies were in the oven, the kitchen looked like a warzone. Flour and sugar dusted the counters, bits of dough were stuck in random places, and you and Bakugo were both covered head to toe in ingredients.

“Damn, that took way too long,” Bakugo muttered, leaning against the counter as you sat beside him. "I could’ve done this ten times faster on my own."

"Yeah, but it wouldn't have been as fun," you quipped, resting your head on his shoulder, not caring about the flour that still clung to your clothes.

Bakugo let out a huff but didn’t pull away. He reached for one of the freshly baked cookies, handing it to you before grabbing one for himself. “Whatever.”

You both took a bite, the sweet, warm taste of chocolate chip filling your mouth. The cookies were surprisingly good, despite the chaos that led up to their creation.

"You know," you said between bites, "for all the mess I made, we did a pretty good job."

"Yeah, because I carried your ass through it."

You smirked, nudging him with your elbow. "Oh please, I provided the moral support."

Bakugo rolled his eyes but smiled softly. “Yeah, well, next time you’re cleaning up the mess.”

“Deal,” you replied, leaning in to kiss his cheek, leaving a trace of flour behind. "But only if there's a next time."

He scoffed, but the way his hand lingered on your waist told you everything you needed to know.

As you both sat there, munching on cookies with the kitchen in utter disarray, you couldn't help but think that despite the mess—both literal and figurative—there was no one else you'd rather be baking with than Bakugo.

Masterlist

#bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou #bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #mha x reader #mha #bnha x reader #bnha

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jhyoos · 14 days ago

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Dreams Come True

Chapter 3 : I Still Love You

summary : (y/n) goes partying with jinx and the friend group.

warning: LOTS OF ANGST, jealousy, sevika with a eyebrow piercing 😫

Chapters: one, two, christmas special, three, four , five

The moonlight streamed through the large windows of Mel’s apartment as you stood in front of a full-length mirror, arms crossed, staring down at yet another outfit. Piles of dresses, skirts, and tops were strewn across the bed and floor, each rejected with a shake of your head. Jinx was sitting cross-legged on the bed, tossing discarded clothes to the side with little care, while Mel stood beside you, her sharp eyes appraising the options with a discerning gaze.

“Come on, Tinker, this is the third dress I’ve tried on. None of these are it,” you groaned, tugging at the hem of the bodycon dress you currently wore.

Jinx, twirling a lollipop between her fingers, raised a brow. “First of all, don’t call me that while I’m working my magic. Second, you’re being too picky! Just wear the red one.”

You turned to glare at her. “I am not being picky. I just... don’t feel like myself in any of these.”

Mel placed a hand on your shoulder, her polished nails glinting in the sunlight. “That’s the problem. Tonight’s about stepping out of your comfort zone. You’ve been working yourself to death, and you deserve a break. Trust me, darling, once we find the right dress, you’ll feel unstoppable.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, hopping off the bed. “She’s right, you know. Besides, we didn’t drag you out for nothing. You’re going, no matter what.” She rummaged through a bag of dresses she brought, muttering to herself before pulling out something sheer and black.

“Here we go,” she said triumphantly, holding up the dress with a dramatic flourish. It was a sheer, black mesh dress adorned with velvet floral patterns, delicate yet daring. The intricate designs wove across the fabric like vines, and the ruffled hem added a touch of flirtiness.

Your eyes widened. “That’s... bold.”

“Exactly,” Jinx said with a mischievous grin, holding the dress up to you. “You’ll look hot, confident, and like you’re ready to own the night.”

Mel stepped forward, smoothing the fabric with her fingers. “It’s perfect. Feminine but edgy, and the black will make your features pop under the club lights. Try it on.”

With a reluctant sigh, you took the dress and stepped into the bathroom to change. The moment you stepped back out, silence fell. Jinx’s lollipop nearly fell out of her mouth, and Mel’s lips curved into a satisfied smile.

“Holy crap,” Jinx said, standing up and circling you. “You’re gonna turn every head in that place.”

You glanced in the mirror, smoothing down the delicate fabric. The way it hugged your figure and the subtle hints of skin peeking through the floral patterns made you feel more confident than you had in months.

“I don’t know...” you started, but Jinx cut you off, placing her hands on your shoulders.

“Nope. None of that. You look amazing, and you’re going. End of story.”

Mel handed you a pair of black heels and a delicate necklace. “She’s right. Now, finish getting ready. The night won’t wait for you.”

You hesitated for a moment, but Jinx gave you her best puppy-dog eyes. “Come on, you owe me for being the world’s best hype woman.”

Finally, you laughed, throwing your hands up. “Fine. I’ll go. But if this night ends in disaster, it’s on both of you.”

Jinx clapped her hands in victory, already grabbing her phone to blast the news to everyone. “You won’t regret this, Tinker guarantees it!”

The club was alive, a pulsating maze of neon lights and pounding bass that thrummed through your body. You arrived with Jinx, Ekko, Jayce, and Viktor, all of whom were already buzzing with excitement. Vi was there too, along with two of her hockey teammates, Ellie and Abby. The sight of her made your chest tighten. She looked effortlessly cool in a leather jacket, her confident smirk drawing attention from nearly everyone in the room.

Jinx grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the bar. “Drinks first, dancing later,” she declared, ordering for both of you.

You couldn’t help but glance at Vi as she leaned against the counter a few feet away, laughing at something Ellie said. Fans recognized her almost immediately, a small group approaching to take pictures and ask for autographs. You watched as she charmed them effortlessly, even flirting with a few, her grin sharp and full of mischief.

Your stomach twisted. It wasn’t jealousy—not entirely. It was the sharp reminder of the space between you now, the way she had moved on while you were still trying to piece yourself back together.

“Don’t even look at her,” Jinx whispered in your ear, nudging your drink toward you. “This is your night, Superstar. Not hers.”

You smiled weakly and raised your glass. “To surviving your plans,” you teased, and she laughed, clinking her glass against yours.

Vi stayed on the sidelines for most of it, sipping her drink and talking with Ellie and Abby. But every so often, you felt her eyes on you, a magnetic pull that you tried to ignore.

As the night went on, every so often, you caught sight of her leaning close to one of them, that damn smirk of hers lighting up her face as they giggled at whatever she said.

“Tinker, get me another drink please,” you called out to Jinx, needing something to numb the ache clawing at your chest.

“Sure thing, Superstar!” she replied, darting off with her usual energy.

As you stood there, sipping your drink and trying to shake off the bitterness creeping in, a deep voice broke through your thoughts.

“Not having fun, doll?”

You turn to see a beautiful woman her tall, muscular frame contrasts with the softness of the dim, colorful lights. A silver eyebrow piercing glints when she raises a drink to her lips, the small detail adding to her rugged, almost dangerous charm. She extended a hand toward you. “My name is Sevika. Dance with me. You look like you need it.”

For a moment, you hesitated, glancing toward Vi out of the corner of your eye. She was still at the bar, laughing with her fans, entirely unaware of you.

Screw it, you thought.

You took Sevika’s hand, letting her lead you onto the dance floor. Her grip was steady, her movements confident as she spun you around. The two of you fell into a rhythm, her low chuckle meeting your laughter as she teased you for stumbling over your own feet.

But the moment didn’t last.

Out of nowhere, a blur of motion interrupted your dance. Vi’s voice cut through the music, sharp and furious.

“Back off, Sevika!”

You turned just in time to see Vi shove Sevika, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and jealousy.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, smirking. “What’s your problem, cupcake? She’s the one who said yes.”

Before you could intervene, Vi swung at her, landing a solid punch to Sevika’s jaw. The crowd around you gasped, forming a loose circle as the two of them grappled.

“Vi, stop!” you shouted, trying to push your way toward them. But Jinx was faster, grabbing your arm and pulling you back.

“Let them work it out,” she said with a grin that suggested she was more amused than concerned.

“Are you kidding me?!” you snapped, trying to break free. But Jinx held on tight.

The fight escalated, with Sevika throwing a punch of her own and Vi retaliating without hesitation. The bouncers were already moving in, and you knew it was only a matter of seconds before they were thrown out.

You couldn’t watch anymore. Frustrated and embarrassed, you tore yourself away from Jinx and stormed out of the club. The cold night air hit you like a slap, cooling your flushed skin and giving you the space to breathe.

You leaned against the wall, staring up at the stars as you tried to steady your racing heart.

“(Y/N).”

Her voice was soft, hesitant. You didn’t turn around.

“What the hell was that, Vi?” you asked, your voice trembling with anger. “You couldn’t just let me have this one night?”

She stepped closer, but you still didn’t face her. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice raw. “I couldn’t stand seeing you with her.”

You laughed bitterly, finally turning to look at her. “Oh, you couldn’t stand it? That’s rich coming from you. Do you have any idea how it feels to watch you flirt with everyone in sight? You act like I don’t even exist.”

Her expression crumpled, guilt flashing across her face. “It’s not like that,” she said, her voice breaking. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up,” you interrupted, your voice rising. “Just shut up, Vi. You don’t get to be jealous. You don’t get to act like this when you’re the one who left me!”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I know I messed up, okay? I know I hurt you. But I still—”

“Don’t you dare,” you cut in, your voice trembling. “Don’t you dare say you still love me. You don’t get to say that after everything you put me through.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you continued. “Do you even know what it was like for me? After you left, I barely ate. I barely slept. I was falling apart, and you—” Your voice broke, and you took a shaky breath. “You were out there, living your life like I didn’t matter.”

“I never stopped caring about you,” Vi said, her own tears spilling over. “I tried to move on, but I couldn’t. No one else compares to you, (Y/N).”

You shook your head, the anger and hurt bubbling over. “That’s not enough, Vi. Love isn’t enough if you’re just going to leave the second things get hard.”

“I was scared,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I was scared that I wasn’t enough for you. That I’d hold you back.”

“That wasn’t your choice to make!” you shouted, the tears streaming freely down your face now.

She stepped closer, her voice desperate. “I know I can’t undo the past, but I need you to know that I’m sorry. And that I still love you. I never stopped.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of her words crashing over you. “I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you whispered.

She reached out, pulling you into a hug before you could push her away again. You froze, the warmth of her arms both comforting and painful.

“Please,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “Let me make it up to you.”

For a moment, you let yourself lean into her, the familiar scent of her bringing back memories you had tried so hard to forget. But then the reality of it all hit you, and you pulled away, shaking your head.

“I can’t do this, Vi,” you said, your voice trembling. “Not again.”

Vi’s hand shot out, grabbing (Y/N) by the wrist before she could pull away again. This time, it wasn’t a comforting hug she pulled her into, but something different. The force of it made (Y/N)’s heart race, and before she could fully process, Vi’s lips were crashing into hers.

The kiss was messy—drunk and desperate—but there was a passion in it neither could deny. (Y/N) hesitated for a moment, caught off guard, but the heat of the moment, the softness of Vi’s lips, and the way she felt so close made (Y/N) give in, kissing her back with equal intensity.

When they finally pulled away, both panting and slightly dizzy, Vi looked at her, her voice low and serious despite the alcohol. “Come back home with me.”

(Y/N) nodded, not trusting herself to speak, but the promise in her gaze said everything.

mini tag-list 🎀: @snowbunnyboo @taurtel @justsomegaygirlig

#arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fanfic #arcane season one #vi headcanons #vi fanfic #arcane act 3 #arcane season 2 #singer #idol #hockey #hockey players #ellie tlou #abby tlou #sevika arcane #jinx arcane #jinx

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ghostskiss · 3 months ago

Note

I just done playing cod mw3 and Soap death killed me from the inside, just want to console my mind, I want to see Simon with Soap'ssister!Y/N as lover having each other after the trauma please??? i love your writing and i believe you can ease my heart <3

hey bby! sorry for the late reply, i hope this eases you after some time <3

———

Pain

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Lil Sis Y/N

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ ANGST, Trauma bonding, Character Death, Mentions of depression, Grief, Sadness, Blood/Injury TW, Bathing in a tub, Soft!Dom Simon, Massaging/hands all over F! body, Clitplay, crygasm, tbh kind of DDLG-esque ((to me at least)). No DDLG wording used though Tried not to spoil too much on Soap's death for other readers!

note: please take care of yourselves loves. if you relate to Y/N in this, i am so very sorry and it does get better. be patient and kind with yourselves and reach out. people need you as much as you need them and that is a strength. not a weakness.

———

Pain.

Pain is what you've been feeling. Disaster, chaos, sadness. But pain was King in your heart. The deciding factor for many things in your life since your big brother has...

You grip your chest and double over in the kitchen, dropping your coffee mug in the sink. Sucking in a breath, you allow the grief to wash over you in the deadening wave that it is. That's what you've learned over these past couple of months. They come and go in waves, this thing called Grief. It hurts every time. Sometimes at night you wonder if they'll ever go away. If it'll always feel like you're drowning without him here. Your big brother. Johnny.

Even though you're clenching your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as you feel through this pain, you haven't cried lately. It's like you've cried so much the first couple of months that your tear ducts have stopped working. A few more moments pass and you stand up straighter, looking at the broken mug in the sink. You feel nothing now, like you hadn't been in agonizing pain just seconds ago. Enough to have made you drop and break one of your favorite mugs. Awhile ago that would've made you cry. You used to be so raw with emotion after the passing of Johnny. Now nothing seems to get you to except the random waves of grief.

Touching a shard in the sink with mild disinterest, you think about all things you used to do. Things that made you feel something. Anything but this never-ending pressure and weight on your shoulders, like you're carrying it around like a support blanket. Your finger slips on the shard, the ceramic cutting into your pointer finger, blood welling to the surface quickly. Another glance of mild disinterest as you bring your hand up to study the open the wound. It hadn't even hurt. How...odd. The warmth of the red liquid trails down your hand to your wrist, as it slowly leaks from your finger.

The doorbell rings, pulling you out of your morbid trance and you blink, almost in shock from the sound. Some days it feels like you're holed up in world different from others entirely, that no one can get you here. The doorbell rings again and this time your feet seem to be unglued finally. Ripping off a paper towel, you press it to your finger and yell out weakly,

"Coming."

Your voice cracks painfully and you wince. When was the last time you'd spoken out loud? The grip you have on your finger tightens as you glance around your home. Christ, when was the last time you'd cleaned anything? Eaten? When was the last time -

Someone pounds on the front door. You zoned out again in the middle of the front entry way. Trying to blink away your dazed state, you reach for the door, opening it. A breath catches in your throat, staring at the...

Ghost.

The man stares down at you in his own confused state, his dark eyes behind that mask he wears taking in inventory of every little thing. In the past you would've shrunk away from his searching gaze. In the past, you would've felt fear. You would've felt self conscious. You stare up at him and will yourself to feel something, anything.

You realize he'd been talking to you and you blink again, voice croaking, "Sorry? What?"

"Why the hell are you bleeding?" His head nods to your hands.

You glance down confused, had already forgotten what happened moments ago. The blood has seeped through your meager little paper towel and was making a fine mess down your arm again. Detached, you state, "Broke my mug."

Ghost is silent for a moment, watching you watch the blood trickle down even more. He's almost unnerved, seeing you in this state. How long have you been like this? His jaw clenches under his mask and he gently grabs your hand with injured finger, squeezing it to keep the blood from flowing as he redirects you back inside. The fact that you move in zombie-like trance pains him. Something he knows well. Seeing it in you...seeing it in Soap's baby sister. And knowing what you're feeling or you're lack of feeling makes his chest hurt.

In your dissociated and detached state, you move with him as he guides you through your own home from behind you. You don't feel entirely here on this plane of existence. But you know that you trust this man, that he's going to help you with your injured finger. That this was a man that your brother trusted with his life. His life.

That thought snaps you out of it and you inhale sharply, taking in your surroundings like you'd been asleep this whole time. Ghost has since sat you down at the kitchen table, glass of water next to you and some ibuprofen. The water runs in the kitchen sink and you can smell your lavender hand soap. Your head turns to the kitchen, catching Ghost's gaze as he dries his hands off. He stares at you and then nods to the items on the table. Turning back to it, you grab the glass and frown, seeing your already bandaged finger. You drink some water and down the pain killers with it as Ghost comes around and pulls a chair from the table to sit in front of you. He gently grabs your hands into his and holds them, leaning his elbows on his legs.

"How are you?" his voice is quiet, not exactly a whisper, but something above it. It's nice. It's calm. It's familiar, in a way. You think about the last time you'd seen him. When was it? Johnny's funeral. Johnny.

"Hey."

You look up from your joined hands, realizing yet again you'd went away somewhere. Ghost's eyes ping to yours, back and forth, like he's trying to read your mind. Like he's trying to figure out where you're going too. How to keep you here with him. How to keep you present. He leans closer, and you don't even flinch. Like you're in and out of your own consciousness, not aware of anything. His bare hands run up your arms softly and he notes the goosebumps raising as he tickles you. Good. At least you're somewhat aware of that. You blink again, coming back to him from the stimulation. You shiver slightly and Ghost hums, deciding that physical touch is going to work at least for now.

"Why are you here?" you whisper, peering up at him. Your eyes are wide, like he's waking you up out of a dream you'd been stuck in for awhile. This is going to hurt, he realizes. He gently squeezes your shoulders.

"To check in on you. Soap..." his voice dips, "Johnny told me to look after you. I...I'm sorry I haven't been here." He stops at that, not knowing what to say. He doesn't have an excuse. He can't say it was work. Can't say it was anything but his own selfishness, his own pain, his own anguish. He'd lost a brother too.

Something in his voice triggers it in you. Something that starts to slowly swell up inside, like a different kind of pressure. You feel more alert, sharper.

"You're sorry?"

Ghost nods and lets out a slow sigh, his fingers still loosely trailing on your skin. It's starting to irritate you slightly, as you feel his touch awaken your skin. "I don't have an excuse. I made a promise and I couldn't keep it. But I'm here now. I'm here. And if I had known...if I had known you were like this I wouldn't have been... I don't know. Scared. Scared to see you. I was -am- grieving too."

Scared to see you. The man who was the last person with Johnny. The man who had him more than you had him. The man who took your brother away from him. Scared of you. Grieving too. Like he had his brother killed. Killed. Taken away.

Anger. Anger is what this new feeling is. You almost revel in it, almost shuddered with excitement that you're finally, finally feeling something other than the pain. Your heart rate picks up and you almost feel delirious.

"If you hadn't known I was like this?"

Ghost catches the change in your tone and his gaze jerks back up to you in question. You can see his brows dip in confusion as he pulls his hands away from you.

"Honey, look around this place. You...you're not doing okay. I shouldn't have waited this long." He says gently, like you're not aware of how bad you are. Like you have no idea how much you've been in. Like you're not aware at all.

"I know I'm not doing okay, Simon." You spit out behind clenched teeth, "My brother got killed."

Ghost flinches at that, jerking back into his seat as he stares at the ground.

You feel like you conquered something. You feel in control suddenly, prideful that you hurt him with your words. You stand up abruptly, knocking your chair back and Ghost looks up at you with pain in his eyes. You feel high off of that fact. You aren't the only one in pain anymore. You don't have to feel it. You can inflict it.

"You weren't the one who lost your family." Another flinch from the man in front of you, "You weren't the one who had random men show up at your front door step and tell you your brother was killed. You weren't the one who had to go to the funeral and see people who knew him, but not the way that you knew him, people who didn't grow up with him, people who took him away from his real family, people who only worked with him not loved him-"

"I loved him."

Your next words catch in your throat as you gaze down at him in shock.

"What -"

"I said I loved him." Ghost stands up slowly, his hands up like he's approaching a wounded and feral animal. You back up in fear like one anyways. "I loved your brother. I loved Johnny. Johnny loved you. He loved you. He'd always talk about you. He'd show me the letters you'd write him when we'd be shipped out. He'd show me pictures of your family. He'd tell me anything he could about you. He loved you. I know you loved him. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you. I'm sorry I couldn't share the things I had with Johnny, but I'm here now and I'm ready. I'm ready to share anything you want to hear, I know we weren't close before this, but your brother was my best friend. He was a brother to me. I know that our pain of losing him is different, but we still lost someone dear to us. Your brother was dear to me. You alone for that are dear to me as well. I will not let you walk through this alone anymore, sweetheart."

Ghost slowly reaches up and brushes your cheeks and that's when you realize you're crying. A sob catches your throat as you throw yourself at the man in front of you, burying your face into his chest as you cry. His arms come around you, keeping you to him, holding you as your body shakes with emotions. It's not only pain now. Nor anger. There's love and relief. Because now someone does finally understand where your heart and head have been since your brother passed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Simon I didn't -" you start, staring up at him with tears blurring your vision. He shushes you and shakes his head, thumbing your tears away.

"Allow yourself to feel everything in this. No emotion is wrong. Anger is healthy." He rubs your back as you press your face in his chest again, breathing him in. It feels good, being hugged by a man such as him. After a few moments, Ghost untangles you slowly from him and jerks his head to the stairs. "Let's get you in a bath."

----------------------------

You stare down at the bubble bath lit with candles in a bit of anxiety. It looks warm and welcoming. Holding your finger up you stare at the gauze wrapped tightly around it. Strict orders under Lt Ghost was to not remove the bandage, even when you complained you'd had to leave your entire hand out of the bath then.

Startling you into a slight jump, Ghost's voice comes from behind the paper thin bathroom door, "You okay? I don't hear you in the bath."

You gnaw on your bottom lip, "Yeah, I'm uh...thinking."

"Thinking?"

You dip your toe in and shudder in delight. Yeah, that man might not look it, but he runs a good bubble bath. You lower yourself slowly, careful not to get your bandaged finger wet. Your body seems to groan with relief as you settle back into the water, head dipping back to lean on the edge of the tub. A few quiet seconds go by before Ghost is at the door again.

“You okay?”

You nod and then realize he can’t see you. “Yeah.” your voice sounds calm and at peace for once. You look around the dimly lit bathroom, candles on the counter lighting the room just enough. “I just wish I could wash my hair. Or anything really. I can’t get my hand wet.”

You think he’s gone by the lack of reply. Which is fine, you didn’t expect him to sit outside your bathroom door the entire time, even if he said he would. That’d be ridiculous to ask of him —

“I can do it. Wash your hair, I mean.” His voice is so soft from behind the door you think you made it up.

“I—”

He starts up again, this time a tad louder and rushed, like he’s trying to find the right words without offending you, “I won’t look. Obviously. There should be enough bubbles to uh… cover you. Not that I’d look even if there weren’t any. Just. Listen I’ll only help wash your hair. Don’t want you to get your bandage wet.” He pauses for a second. “If you want.”

You think it over while looking down at the bath. He’s right, he wouldn’t be able to see anything. You chew on your lip, thinking it over, probably for too long. Letting a slow sigh to calm your nerves, you nod and call him in. He comes in silently and you tense, feeling his presence fill the room. What are you doing? This is your brother’s…lieutenant. War buddy. Best friend. You’re letting him in the bathroom with you while you’re naked for Christ’s sake.

You turn to catch him rolling up his sleeves, bare hands grabbing the edge of the tub to help lower himself down to his knees. You feel yourself shrink back into the bubbles, glad for the low lighting so he can’t see you blushing. He’s staring at you softly, like he’s watching every tiny reaction you’re having to him. Studying you to see if you’re too uncomfortable. You don’t want him to leave so you sit up a little, moving closer to him. He nods a bit and reaches up to untangle your hair from the pile you placed on top of your head. He sweeps his fingers through your hair and your eyes close, allowing yourself to feel in the moment. Not think it. He grabs your bath cup and dips it in the water, letting the warmth cascade through your hair. Gently, he tips your head back so it doesn’t get in your eyes, his large hands are surprisingly soft as he finishes getting your hair wet enough for shampoo. His fingers massage your scalp with the suds and you groan, leaning into him more.

He chuckles, “You’re acting like a cat.”

“Do you like cats?” you ask, curious. Your eyes are closed and you hum as he rubs your head more.

“Hm. I’d like you if you were a cat.”

“You hardly know me. What if I were a bad cat?”

“No such thing.”

He dumps more water through your hair, rinsing you free of all your past worries and fears. You feel your body relax more and you sigh, sad that this is going to end soon. Your eyes peer open at him and you shiver, now thinking of how you have a man, this large mysterious man bathing you. You’ve known of him, met him a couple of times when Johnny would come home and bring him along. But he never talked much, in fact, you were a little scared of him sometimes. Johnny always joked with him but you swear the man was mute around your family. Seeing him so…intimately under the lighting of your bathroom, his rough but gentle hands on you, washing you and touching you, had your heart clenching and your thighs pressing together under the water. Was that wrong of you? What would your brother think right now? In the beginning it was appropriate enough, but now with these thoughts running rampant, it didn’t feel like an innocent hair washing session. You were suddenly so aware of how naked you were. How the bubbles in the bath were dissipating like they do after some time.

Ghost looks at your bandaged finger, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him to inspect it. He makes a satisfied sound in seeing that you haven’t gotten it wet.

“Need me to wash you?”

Your throat dries as you stare at him, as he’s casually looking over your hand in his. You think of those very same hands on your body. His fingers caressing you, sudsing you up with your body wash. You’re about to tell him no, to be respectful to him. He’s probably innocently thinking he’s helping you and here you are getting worked up over him just washing your hair.

“I won’t…I won’t—”

“Do anything I don’t want you to?” You finish for him, not sure if that’s what he was even going to say. He nods anyways and catches your gaze to level it, like he’s telling you means it. Not only with his words but his eyes. You nod back and you stare at each other for a moment longer before he’s reaching for the wash. He pours some in the palm of his large hand and you swallow, turning your gaze away from him, the eye contact beginning to have been too much.

His hands connect with your shoulder softly and you close your eyes, tension leaving you quicker than you thought. He leans you forward a bit and gets your back, dipping under the water and coming back up. Your head lulls to the side as he comes back up and sweeps his hand across your collarbones, raising your arm to get your armpit and you giggle, though he seems to be taking his job seriously. He grunts at your reaction and turns your body a bit to get the other side of you.

You shudder, trying not to squirm under his tickling touch. His hands dip under the water to grab one of your legs and you squeal, catching the sides of the tub so you don't tip under. He laughs lightly, lathering up your calves and feet, your toes trying to wiggle out from underneath his grip. It's light and playful until you sit up, completely forgetting the setting that you're in. Ghost's hands drop from you and he sits back abruptly, making you frown and glance down at yourself. Bubbles from the bath are slowly falling from your breasts down your sides and stomach, your nipples tightening from the change in temperature. Ghost's wet hands grip the edge of the bath and you're both frozen, like you're both shocked at what you're witnessing. Heat fills your body and you turn towards him more, hearing the ever so slight hitch in his breath as your nipple grazes his knuckles.

Your uninjured hand grabs one of his and tugs gently, getting him to unglue his fingers from the tub. He watches you move your joined hands towards your chest and he utters your name out in a low warning. You pretend not to hear him as you guide his hand to cup a breast gently.

"You didn't wash me here." You whisper innocently, now looking up at him through your wet lashes. You feel Ghost's fingers spread before lightly gripping you in response. You shiver, pressing more into his touch.

Ghost lets out a noise in the back of his throat, like he's unsure on how to proceed. "We--"

You grab his other hand and do the same thing, the sudden action cutting him off from whatever he was about to say. His eyes drop to your breasts and he swipes a thumb across your nipple before testing the weight of you in his palms. You let out a small sigh, eyelids drooping from the feel of his warm hands on you. He plays with you like that, sweeping, feeling, testing, and washing your tits as you struggle to keep your head up from the pleasure. His fingers trail down to your sternum, even further to your belly button and you're nodding your head, like you're trying to encourage him to keep going.

"You want me to wash you there too, honey?"

You're nodding again, eyes half open while your press as much of yourself into his hands. Practically begging him without saying the words. Ghost hums and he pulls away entirely, standing up to chuck off his sweater that's gotten wet from the bath. Underneath he's got a plain black t-shirt that hugs his broad shoulders and you sit back, taking the large man in as he settles back down.

"Turn around. Lean your back here." He pulls your shoulders against the tub, his hands coming around you. You look down and watch his hands fondle your tits, fingers coming around to pinch your nipples lightly, just giving you enough pressure to gasp. His head settles in the crook of your shoulder, material of the mask brushing against your neck lightly, tickling you. He turns and whispers darkly in your ear while one hand trails down the front of your body, other gripping your chest.

"Let yourself feel. Stay with me."

Your eyes drift shut as his fingers go lower and lower until you're raising your hips to catch his finger tips into your sex. He chuckles airlessly, pressing into your aching clit. "Right here, baby?" You nod again frantically, whining out as he starts pressing slow circles. Your clit throbs as his fingers catch it, rolling it and playing with it as you gasp out. "Keep that bandage dry." The tone he delivers that in has an underlining connotation of a threat. An or else.

It makes your breath hitch and your head lull back, hitting his shoulder as he leans into you from behind the tub, his fingers playing slowly, exploring you. His other hand cups and plays with your breasts and he hums with curiosity when he finds the right spot, the right pressure. You don’t need to tell him, he can tell by the way you tense and then melt into him, almost like you’re fighting against the pleasure he’s giving you. His cock strains hard against his jeans and he curses himself about the morals and lines you two are crossing, yet he can’t find it in himself to care. In the throes of your pleasure as you cry out louder, your hands that were on the tub’s edge start to slip and the masked man tsks at you.

“Hands out of the water.”

You whimper and place them back on the edge, gripping and holding so you don’t entirely submerge yourself in the water containing you. Ghost picks up the pace of his fingers circling your clit and you moan out, hips bucking up. You’re close.

“Ghost,” you gasp, not sure what you’re about to say or beg or plead for.

“That’s it. Let go. Let go.” his voice is coaxing, like he’s gently leading you, not demanding you. Nurturing you, taking care of you. Your body responds like it was a command, toes curling, head falling backwards, breath catching and then crescendoing as your legs tense up, capturing Ghost’s ever moving hand to your pussy as you come. It’s breathtaking and blinding, and by the time you come back to reality, you’re gasping for air like you finished running.

Ghost lets you gather your bearings before he’s slowly untangling himself from you, rinsing the rest of your body off. He helps you stand on your wobbly legs, pulling you up and put of the tub with ease. A warm large towel comes around you and he dries you off thoroughly before wrapping it around your body and pulling you into him. He rests his cheek on top of your head, rubbing your back in the embrace. You can feel yourself crying, though you’re not sad. You blink away the tears as Ghost holds you.

“Let’s get you in bed sweetheart.”

He transitions you into your bed, and you reach out for him with watery eyes. He sighs a bit, but kicks off his boots and clambers into the bed after you, somehow just knowing this entire time what you need. The bandage, the bath, the feeling of something other than the pain in your heart. He pulls you into him, keeping you wrapped in the covers and he softly kisses your forehead through his mask. Your eyelids droop. Even though you’ll never get your brother back, and Ghost will never get his back, you’re here together. Going through it together. You were never really alone, even with how bad it hurt and how much you thought otherwise. It didn’t hurt right now, but it may in the future and that’s okay. You had time. You’re going to take it one step at a time.

“I’m right here baby. You’re okay.”

And you knew he was right.

#hey. this hurt.#thanks for the ask!#simon ghost riley #cod mwii #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x y/n #ghost #ask #request #ghost cod

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