#now imagine if every single one of those people took the time to write even the TINIEST bit of work that caters to their preference

[m1ckeyb3rry]

me when yet another post hating on a popular genre of fanfiction is circulating the dash:

[hellfire--cult]

Harrington!reader who struck up a friendship with Billy after finding him crying. It wasn’t long until she developed a crush on the older boy. But she knew she was the least attractive girl in school, and on the cheerleading squad. Every girl was all over him, she never thought he’d see her that way.

Movie Night

I'm so sorry, I got carried away, and I made it super long, SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND I HOPE EVERYONE ELSE DOES this has: fluff, angst, mean brother persona on Steve's behalf, OOC Billy Hargrove, soft side.

wc: 8k (i got a lil inspired, no one requests Billy and I love to write him 😭)

Stupid Steve. Stupid school. Stupid fucking stereotypes.

You understand, you get it, the fucking sister of Steve Harrington should be the perfect girl, perfect as her idiotic brother. If only they knew that being in every single sport isn’t what Steve wants, it isn’t what he desires, it isn’t what he always dreamed about. 

But it’s not that perfection they want from you, oh no. It’s not your fault you have bad eye sight so you have to wear glasses, and for some reason that made you fucking undesirable. Just because you are wearing glasses, and you’ve been wearing them ever since middle school, where there were minimum problems with it, and now in high school when you just want to be able to date someone, or even kiss, it’s almost impossible because of them.

So yes, you knew people didn’t want to be with you, and you knew that it was all because of the idealization of the Harrington girl not meeting their expectations. Jokes on them, every single fucking guy in school looks like stepped on shit.

When you finally got into freshmen year, you already knew Steve was the most popular guy in school, always boosting about it at the dinner table, father always saying how proud he is for Steve being the captain of almost every fucking imaginable sport. You looked up to Steve, you really did look up to your brother… Until you crossed those forsaken high school doors, and the only face your brother sent you was that of disgust and turned his back on you.

And that sets your fate.

Now as a Junior, your brother finally graduates this year. Ever since he started dating Nancy who is in the same year as you, he has relatively changed. At home, he now tries to invite you to hang with him at the mall, or tell you to have dinner together when your parents aren’t home… You declined his invitation every time. You prefer to eat dinner in your bed, alone, while he drives away to be with Nancy. Just you, your books, and some good music. You are fine. 

It doesn’t help the fact that you have just one friend at school, and she’s not even always with you because she is Nancy’s Best Friend. Barb was always nice to you, and it’s the only one you talked to in class, because then in cheerleading practice, which you had to enter because you needed extracurricular credit because your parents said so, you were given the cold shoulder by every teammate there. You didn’t participate in the cheers really, you just wear the uniform every now and then and pass them bottles of water.

You just have to survive one year, just one more year and you can go to college, probably start anew, meet people, meet someone. You fixed your glasses on the bridge of your nose as you took notes while sitting at the bleachers, hearing the squeak of the tennis shoes of all the boys in the basketball team just going around. You hear a thump, making your eyes look up to see your brother laying on the floor, making you frown.

Then it made sense, as Billy Hargrove smirked, helping your brother stand up again. 

You knew that he wanted to take Steve’s position as the most popular guy at school, getting prom king and all that shit. You have heard your brother complaining about him on the phone sometimes, maybe to Nancy or to one of his friends. From what you’ve seen, Billy looked like a tough and irritating guy, and there is no need for you to get close to him at all, and you really could care less about what he does to your brother.

And that is basically your everyday life. Invisible, and you’re fine with that.

You’re fine. 

“Hey, can you believe that guy?” Your head snapped up to see your brother at your door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. You raised your eyebrow at him, looking back down at your book. “If he takes away my captainship in the team, I will– Dad will fucking cut my head off.” 

“That’s what you get for following his dreams from day one.” You mumble in a low tone, but he caught onto it, frowning at you.

“I have my own dreams. I don’t follow his.” You nodded at that while still not looking at him. You really could care two shits about all of this. 

“Maybe Nancy can help you with this kinda stuff. I'm busy.” You heard shuffling at the door and then a sigh. You heard steps and you raised your head to hear him slam his door shut, and you knew he was probably getting ready to go to a party or something because of the music he started playing on his radio. Not once you were invited to one of those, not even by your own brother. He had hosted parties before, and you were commanded to stay in your room all night. The only time you came out of your room was to the bathroom to pee, and even then you had to wait because people were always making out inside. 

You got up from bed, closed the biology book to then set it on your desk, looking over to your library of VHS’s tilting your head to check what to watch tonight. You picked Terms of Endearment and Sixteen Candles. Your collection was full of romance and dramatic movies because it’s just your favorite genre to watch. Same with your books, your favorite being Sense & Sensibility. 

Steve left after a few minutes, and you made your way down to start your Friday movie night, and tomorrow will be the same, next weekend too. You should get more movies, you are on a roll of rewatching stuff by now. But it was at this moment, when you put the cassette into your player, and you finally sat down and started watching Sixteen Candles that it all simply fell apart.

Your rough facade crumbles down as you see the romance of the characters on screen, the friendship that is displayed in these movies, late calls with friends, kicking your feet because the guy you liked kissed you, or even called you to spend time with you. You stare absentmindedly at the screen as you see the kissing scene finally happening and your fingertips brush over your lips, just softly, tracing the shape of them.

After a few hours Steve finally returns home, completely sober and cursing under his breath. He sees the light of the living room turned on and some blue light shining on. He walked inside to find you asleep on the couch with the TV still on. He sighed, walking over to turn it off but then his eyes looked at your form, making his face completely fall down.

He bent over your figure to see the dried tears on your cheeks, falling down onto the couch. He looked over to the coffee table to look at what you were watching, getting hold of the case. You watch the same movie every Friday night… And every Saturday night. He rubbed his mouth with a frown to his face as he looked back at your frame. And he always repeats the same action every Friday night and every Saturday night.

He stands up to grab the blanket that’s over the couch to put it over your body, and with tears in his eyes he bends over to press a soft kiss at the top of your head with a quiet whisper that he always repeats and that you never hear, not that you would believe him anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

Monday came way faster than you expected, and the morning was even quicker. Your parents were still away on their business trip, but Steve and you knew they were just out on vacation by themselves. Why have children when you just push them aside? 

You take out the lunch bag with your sandwiches in it, and you walk out of the school doors and into the football field which was deserted because it was lunch time, so it always gave you the best opportunity to head behind the bleachers to have some peaceful time for yourself, and that was until you almost dropped your bag as you screamed and flinched when you saw someone already there who snapped his head back at you.

Billy Hargrove.

Your breathing was heavy and your eyes were still trying to focus from the scare but as soon as they did you realized that Billy’s eyes were filled with tears, one or two might have escaped because you could see the glistening trail that they left behind on his cheeks. You were trying to talk to him, but then his eyebrows furrowed together, a tight angry look on his face.

“The fuck you looking at Harrington?” You flinched back at that, annoyance switching inside of you instead of fear. This guy was crying and has the audacity to sound threatening?

“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just seeing Billy Hargrove actually having feelings is a sight.” His eyes snapped wide at your response, surprise crossing his features while he stared at you this time. “Who’s staring now?”

“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just that hearing you fucking talk for once is a sight.” You were taken aback by his response, mimicking yours. You sucked on your right cheek in annoyance as he wiped his cheeks away.

“Well, off you go.” He snaps his head at you, a frown on his features to then letting a smirk spread on his lips.

“I came here first. You go.” You scoff at that, shaking your head at him.

“No, I always come here at lunchtime, it’s my place.” 

“Well, that’s lonely as fuck.” You know that. You fucking know that, he doesn’t need to say it to your face, not the heartthrob of the school. Before your heart could turn in pain you nod at him.

“Fine, take it for today.” You turn to finally walk away. Maybe you can eat at the picnic table in the forest? But sometimes the stoner would go there to deal, and you weren’t judging Munson really, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive. 

“Wait.” You stopped on your tracks and slowly turned around to see Billy slumping down on the ground, his back resting against a column of the bleachers while he rested his forearms on his bent knees. “You can stay here if you don’t tell anyone you saw me like this.” 

Who would you even tell this to? He might be scared that you would tell Steve about it, but Billy seems to not know you don’t actually have a good relationship with your brother, and you have just one casual friend in this school. You look in between the bleachers and towards the woods and then you look back at Billy, giving a sigh and finally sitting down with your legs crossed. 

It was silent between you two, almost uncomfortable but not quite. You were eating your sandwich and you took out a bottle of water out of your bag too. You glanced once at him, and he was looking at the distance, just breathing slowly. You wanted to know what happened to him, because he didn’t seem like the guy that would cry easily. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow up at you.

“Why do you eat here?” He asks and you clear your throat, taking a sip of your water.

“Why were you crying?” 

“Touché.” You gave a nod in understanding. You weren’t going to talk to him if he wasn’t going to talk to you. You looked inside your bag to grab onto the other sandwich, and you handed it to him. He looked at it with a frown and then back at you.

“If you’re here it means you didn’t eat. Basketball players need food.” You calmly say to him and he looks down at the sandwich, taking it from your hands, and then taking a bite out of it, grimacing in disgust.

“What the fuck is in this?” He looks down into it and you smirk at him, finishing off your own.

“Mustard and pickle sandwich.”

He ate the sandwich anyway. It was nice to eat lunch with someone for once, even if that person was Billy Hargrove and it would be a one time thing in your life… Though, it wasn’t. Billy was back behind the bleachers almost everyday after that. He wasn’t at all that persona that he was with everyone else with you. The cocky insufferable bastard you knew was all a mask, and you could see it when he told you about how Tammy Thompson tried to hide a fart with her cough in class.

“You’re fucking kidding…” You were giggling, covering your mouth as you both sat in front of one another, and the closeness slowly shrinking as two weeks went by of eating lunch with him.

“I am not, she actually thought it was discreet, but I heard it. Not that I said anything about it, but it was a total boner killer.” You raised an eyebrow at that, swallowing your apple that you were having as dessert.

“What, girls can’t fart Hargrove?” He rolls his eyes at you and then raises his hand to flick your forehead, making you wince and rub the skin he left in a red state.

“I didn’t say that. When you trust someone enough to do it in their face, sure. Not in the middle of class, and much less when you are a chair in front of mine.” At that you let out a laugh, throwing your head back. He chuckled and took a swig of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side so it wouldn’t hit your face.

“God, I really don’t pay attention to shit like that.” You took another bite of your apple and Billy was still looking at you, clearing his throat, making you look up at him.

“What do you do on Friday nights? I mean, your brother is at every single party but you are nowhere to be found.” He asks you and you feel your cheeks flush slightly at that. You look down at your apple and swallow your bite.

“I often watch movies. Have my own movie nights, sometimes with popcorn, and if I am feeling fancy, S’mores.” You gave him a small smile as you took another sip of water but Billy was still looking at you with a frown to his eyebrows.

“By yourself?” And you suddenly felt embarrassment washing over you. How pathetic were you? He is a guy that has every student in this school eating at the palm of his hand, plans of going out somewhere almost everyday, a date every single night, and you just watched movies and read books for company.

“I– I have to go.” You suddenly blurt out, standing up abruptly to then wipe your jeans from the dirt of the floor. Billy was following suit, doing the same thing, and about to stop you, but you were already walking away. You didn’t need the reminder of how stupid all of your life sounded. You didn’t need it from him. You were always reminded of it by your father, saying that you should be more like his son. Your mother says that at her age she already dated someone and had tons of friends. Steve showing off his new relationship and friends to you, keeping you in the shadows from everyone.

You didn’t need more reminders.

So when you got home, and realized Steve was already out of sight, probably at Heather’s party, you took your time to shower, put on some comfy sweatpants, a white t-shirt and a gray hoodie, and you grabbed your movies and went downstairs. Maybe they will cheer you up from all the stuff that has happened with Billy today. It’s stupid, you both don’t talk to each other all day, yet at lunch you just talk non-stop.

Sweet popcorn was today’s choice and you were already salivating at the smell of it all. Once it was done you put it in a bowl and headed over to the living room, turning the TV on, and putting Pretty in Pink in your VHS. Steve must be getting drunk with his friends by now, dancing to Roxette or something like that. You popped a single popcorn in your mouth and you were about to press play but you were interrupted when glass knocking was heard from the sliding door to the garden.

You jumped up in fear, eyes widened as you quickly turned your head and saw Billy fucking Hargrove outside the doors. You blinked once, twice, three times. Wasn’t he at Heather’s party too? You stood up from your seat, blushing at your attire but he already saw you in it, no time to actually go change. You fixed your glasses at the bridge of your nose as you walked towards the doors to finally unlock them and open a side for him.

“What the fuck are you doing here Billy!” You almost screamed at him, but he raised his hands up in a surrender mode and chuckled at you.

“By that yelling I am assuming your parents are still gone. Let me in, I’m fucking freezing.” He walks past you and you scoff at the nerve of this man. You close the door and you see him looking around with his hands inside his black leather jacket. Your eyes trailed downwards for a second, taking in how tight his pants were, but you snapped out of it, walking around him so that you were facing him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask again and he simply shrugs, still looking all around your house. 

“Party was lame as shit, and you said there was a movie night here tonight. That seemed far more interesting than Tommy trying to do a keg stand and falling onto it, breaking his nose.” He walks to the couch, sitting down on it and he immediately grabs the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table. Your mouth hangs open again at this, going to the couch and sitting down next to him.

“You– I don’t need your pity.” You say to him, looking down at your hands as you played with the hem of the sleeves of your hoodie. He chuckles at that and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, I don’t pity anyone. The party was really fucking boring.” He takes a popcorn in his mouth and he hums at the sweetness. You raise an eyebrow to look at him. You never thought Billy Hargrove would be on the sweet side of stuff. “So, what are we watching?”

A smirk formed on your lips. He was gonna fucking hate it, that’s what he gets for barging in your house.

Yet–

“I fucking hated Duckie.” You were wide eyed at him. He had paid complete attention to the movie, even giving small commentary that he really liked the fact that the girl stood up for herself. He turns to look at you, a frown coming to his eyebrows. “What?” 

“I just… I didn’t think you like this genre of movies.” You reply to him, a little bit nervous for some reason and he smiles at you and then looks back at the screen.

“I never watched one of these. They have a lot of plot, and they’re interesting.” Your eyes sparkled in excitement and you grabbed his shoulder, which made him look at you alarmingly.

“You’re in for a ride.”

Billy came back again the next day, taking the chance that Steve was out at Nancy’s for the night. He then sneaked into your room while Steve slept and you played Grease on your small TV and VHS that were on top of your dresser. He actually enjoyed it, but despised it because it was a musical. The next time, he actually came through the front door, and you both finally watched Sixteen Candles together. Now, Saturday Night, Steve was at Nancy’s for a family dinner and Billy was taking out two beers from the six pack he came with.

“I don’t drink…” You say to him and he raises an eyebrow up at you. 

“Daily or weekly, but you have tried alcohol. One beer is not going to kill you Sweetheart.” You nodded at that and you grabbed onto the can, sitting back down on the couch. You opened it as Billy walked towards you and plopped down with a huff, already taking a swig out of his can. You grimaced at yours and you took a tentative sip, lowering the can to look at him, completely disgusted by the taste and he simply threw his head back in laughter.

“Disgusting.” You say to him and he shrugs at you, sending a smile your way.

“It’s an acquired taste baby, you just keep drinking it, if you feel fuzzy you can leave it.” You felt your heart accelerate at him, feeling the butterflies exploding in your stomach. You didn’t know when your relationship with Billy took a turn for the better, but he actually sends a smile your way this time when walking down the halls, he sometimes greets you when you pass by him in the hallways, like he is not making it seem like he doesn’t know you.

So it was hard not to fall for him. It was undeniable at this point, and even if he was strong and mean, and an ultimate bully to everyone else, he comes here to your house, watches romantic comedies with you, eats popcorn with you, and you two talk about nonsense all evening. Nobody knows about this, and you’re happy to have this secret between the two of you. You can live in the fantasy a little bit longer.

“What did you bring?” You look at the cassette he got and you look at the front of it. You grimaced again and showed it to him. “The terminator?” 

“Classic sweetheart, it’s an action movie, you gotta expand your movie knowledge a bit.” You didn’t want to complain, it was the first time Billy suggested to watch something he likes, and in reality you were interested in knowing it, and hopefully like it the way he does.

News flash, you didn’t like it.

“Why are there so many guns?! It's unnecessary!” You complain, your beer gone and you do feel a little fuzzy but not too much. You just felt giddy. He laughed at your side and shook his head as he drank his second can.

“That’s what action movies are, baby, they are irrational, little to nothing of plot, and shooting everywhere.” He says and you sigh at that, shaking your head. The room filled with silence as Billy looked forward, his smile slowly disappearing. “You know why I come here often?”

You straightened at that, blinked with confusion as you turned to look at him. You frowned when you saw how serious he got, just out of nowhere, and your belly turned for him, not in a romantic way, but more of a worry kind of nervousness. 

“Because parties now bore you?” You ask him and he gives you one chuckle and then shakes his head, resting it on the backrest of the couch, looking at the ceiling.

“You help me distract myself.” He took a deep breath in as you kept looking at him and you knew it was something he was having a hard time talking about. “The day you saw me crying… I was actually afraid.” 

“What?”

“My father… Let’s just say he has– a rough hand. Any slip up I make, I just get a punch out of it… I’m just so angry all the time, so unlike my fucking self and who I actually am when I am at school. I just let out my anger towards people, because I cannot take it out on my own father.” You could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and you knew he was trying to choke back tears as he talked. Your heart just knotted at seeing him like this, feeling helpless, not knowing what to actually tell him.

“Billy–”

“And you… I tried to be mean to you… And you actually had the guts that no one had at this school yet. Talk back to me.” His head turned to finally look at you again and your eyes burned at his confession. “I couldn’t be mean to you… With you I can— I can be calm, watch a movie, talk about how creepy that Creel house is and how we should sabotage it– I mean, the only thing I talk with the people from school? Chicks, sex, cars, alcohol.” 

You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your lips, turning your whole body to face him, your legs coming to rest on top of the couch too, bending them and resting your side on the backrest. 

“Well, I am glad I could help in some way��� My house is always open for you Billy.” His eyes were just staring into yours now, the only thing being heard in the room were your breaths, until he finally talked.

“Can I kiss you?” 

What?

There is no possible way you heard that from him. This is a dream, it has to be a dream. There is no way Billy Hargrove, your now friend, your crush, the guy you like has asked to actually kiss you. This only happens in movies, in books, and it never happens in real life, at least, not to you. 

“W-Why would you want to kiss me?” And Billy’s features turned into saddened ones at your words. Don’t you realize how beautiful you are? He straightened up on the couch, his body turning to face you as well as both of your hearts jumped out of your chest.

“Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you?” was his short answer. Your belly turned in pure nervousness now as your body grew a cold sweat. You never kissed anyone, and Billy seemed to know how to do it, and you were just too inexperienced. A flush came over all of your body as you fixed the glasses on the bridge of your nose and you looked down to avoid his gaze.

“I– I never–” You gulped, not being able to finish the phrase from how stupid it sounded. A warm hand was pressed on your cheek, making you lift your head up to look at him again, and you didn’t realize how close he got to you, his blue eyes staring into yours.

“I ask you again… Can I kiss you?” And you finally give him a nod. You weren’t going to miss this chance, not for one second. He still wants to kiss you despite you not knowing what you were getting yourself into. He smiled at you and grabbed onto your glasses, pulling them off your face and setting them on the coffee table. “They were just going to get in the way.” 

You took a shaky breath in, his hand still on your cheek as he slowly leaned down towards you. You closed your eyes and his remained open to remember your features as he finally does what he has been wanting to do for the past weeks. At first it was a simple attraction of course, but he knew it was more than that, and he was scared as shit about it… But he never wanted someone as much as he’s been wanting you.

His lips connected with yours in a soft peck, brief, and you let a breath go out of your lips, only for another peck to land. Then another, then another that lingered there a bit more, and then the next one he just stayed there, and suddenly started moving his lips, guiding you as your heartbeat made you deaf in your ears. How do people do this and not faint at the spot?

The lip smacking was heard in the room as your hands finally were brave enough to travel, one scanning his bicep, the other one moving towards the back of his neck, feeling his skin under your fingertips. His free hand landed on your waist, not pressing too hard so that you know that he is being mindful of you. At this point, Billy would already be inside someone, satisfying his needs, but with you… He wasn’t going to do that, at least not now, not yet, and that is if you let him. 

He wants to take care of you.

He pulled away for a second, his lips touching yours still as your breathing mixed with one another’s in soft pants. You were feeling as if you were burning all over, not knowing what was happening with you. You never felt like this before, and maybe it has to do with the fact that not only was Billy good looking, but you also feel more than just friendship for him.

“You okay?” You nod frantically at him, wanting more, giving him a peck on the lips making him chuckle in a low tone. “Sorry baby, but I need more.” 

He suddenly pushed you back on the couch, crawling over you and you didn’t even think, you just wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he kept his bottom half away from yours, even if it pained him on his thighs from the strength he was doing to keep himself up. His lips connected with yours again, rougher this time, more desperate, the kiss suddenly turning into a very heated one as he suddenly licks your bottom lip a few times.

The butterflies in your belly explode as you open your mouth and his tongue finally slides in. You gasp at the feeling, your hands finding his biceps through his blouse, and you felt his chain hitting your neck at every movement. One hand was still gripping on your waist, while the other remained at your nape, pulling you deeper into the kiss. 

You really can’t believe this is happening, not to you, not with Billy, it doesn’t make sense that he looked your way, it doesn’t make sense that he actually wants to kiss you, not when he has Heather on his tail all the time, or Carol even if she is dating Tommy. Or Janet. You always hear them talking about him in the bathroom, always planning their move on him, and this feels you with a sense of power, with a sense of accomplishment and pride in yourself. 

Your hands ran through his hair and he groaned into the kiss, and that ignited so many things inside of you that you never felt in your life, and you wanted to hear more of it. Billy was trying his best to keep himself in a hovering position with you, but he was finding it harder and harder to do so. He can’t go on, at least not today when it was your first kiss. He didn’t want to scare you, even if your urges were the same as his, because he could feel your need to pull him even closer.

The door suddenly clicked and both of your eyes snapped wide open, pulling away, looking at one another, panting heavily. Best scenario, it's your parents, and they would be thrilled that you actually, and finally, have someone over at your house… Now, worst case scenario–

“What the ACTUAL FUCK?!” You both sat up on the couch to look over at Steve, who was standing there in the living room, wide eyed, and his face reddened bit by bit. Shit.

“Steve–” You started talking but he raised his hand at you, to then point a finger at Billy.

“Get the fuck off my sister.” You wanted to roll your eyes at this, because why is he acting all protective now? You finally got some action in your fucking life and he wants to take it away from you.

“I don’t think she wants me to leave.” Billy dares to say, glaring at your brother who took a look at the coffee table, seeing the cans of beer. His mind started racing, and Billy followed his gaze, his mouth opening to talk but Steve was running up the stairs already. Your eyes widened and you pushed Billy off, standing up quickly and urging him to do the same.

“You have to leave!” You were trying to push Billy towards the front door but his feet were still planted against the floor with a frown to his face, and your head snapped to the stairs to see Steve running back down with his baseball bat in his hands. Billy’s eyes widen when Steve starts to approach him with a swinging motion.

“Taking fucking advantage of my sister is something I won’t take from you Hargrove, so get the fuck out of my house before I crush your skull in!” 

“Shit, Harrington– Fucking listen for a second–” Steve’s baseball bat hits the backrest of the couch, and you could see the dent of the wooden under it that he created. Billy ripped himself off you and gave you a look as if asking if you were okay.

“I’ll talk to him, you go.” You tell him and he gulps, looking back at Steve with a threatening look on his face which Steve only scoffed at.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Billy says with a small squeeze to your hand as he walks out of the house, passing by Steve. Your brother follows him to the front door and he doesn’t walk back inside until Billy drives away with his Camaro. After the roaring engine can be heard in the distance, Steve slams the door shut, throwing the bat at the floor and stomping back into the living room where you were standing there with a glare on your eyes as if you were about to kill him.

“When I saw his fucking car out in front of the house I thought it was a stupid coincidence, and I come in here to see you about to have sex with the sluttiest man in the goddamn school! What are you thinking!?” You frown in anger at that, stepping towards him.

“I am his friend! I wasn’t going to have sex with him, and he wasn’t taking fucking advantage of me! I drank ONE beer, ONE!” You yell back at him and he fake laughs as he runs his hand over his face.

“The first time you have a guy in this house, and it is Billy FUCKING Hargrove. The one guy that I am fighting with for Captain at our basketball team, the one guy that gives me the hardest fucking time of my life at the moment, and you want me to just accept that he wants to be with you because he WANTS TO?” Your chest hurt at those words, your own coming out in soft stutters at Steve’s blind rage.

“He even asked me if I wanted to, and I said yes–”

“God, you cannot be this fucking stupid! He hates me, makes my life a living hell, and you seriously think that he is a nice guy!? You really think there is no ulterior motive!?” He yelled at you and his words were stabbing you in every part of your body, your head already spinning from how harsh he was being with you.

“Why? Is it impossible that he actually wants to be with me?” You try to say loudly at him, even if your fingers start to feel numb. He scoffed at that, looking at you.

“Yes, and I don’t think you are dumb enough to not see that.” He was referring to so many other things, and it was regarding Billy’s persona, in Billy’s actions, in his rivalry with him… And when he saw your tear rolling down your face, his anger evaporated as if water was being thrown at him.

“Okay…” Was your defeated response. You turned around to retrieve your glasses from your coffee table and Steve winced, clenching his eyes tightly together as pain rushed through his body. 

“That wasn’t what I meant– Hey, listen to me, I really didn’t mean it to sound like that–” But you weren’t listening, putting the cassettes back into their cases and turning off the TV. You grabbed them and walked past him, going up into your room. Steve stood there, knowing he hurt you once again, not knowing what to do but run a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath as he started pacing back and forth.

He didn’t mean it to sound like no guy would want you, he didn’t mean it at all like that, yet the words coming out of his mouth betrayed him, completely. He doesn’t know how to make it up to you, because if he had given you the chance to go to the parties with him when you asked in your freshman year, many times, and told you yes instead of no, you would have more experiences, you might even have friends. If only he had let you come out of your room at his own parties when you asked him, almost begged him to let you participate, but he declined each time. Then in your sophomore year, you didn’t ask anymore, just accepted that he wasn’t going to tell you anymore about them, and you automatically locked the door whenever he hosted a party. 

This year, he tried to invite you, many times. You always declined. You didn’t even want to eat dinner with him, and he knows you want to leave the house as soon as possible thanks to him. Even with your parents. For the past two years he had been so blind because of his father’s approval and the one of all the students in Hawkins High that he didn’t notice how your parents didn’t ask you stuff at dinner. All questions were always directed to him. He noticed this year, and he tried to tell them you had nailed your exams, and the only thing you got from your father was ‘As she should.’

He was the cause of who you were now. Not at all the bubbly and animated girl that asked him to raise her up like an airplane in their backyard, not at all the small girl that put makeup on him pretending she was a stylist, not at all the middle school girl that got excited to see him whenever she got home from school to tell him about what she learned that day. 

He walked up the stairs and raised his hand to knock on your door, only to hear soft sobs on the other side, muffled. He wonders if you had also cried when he denied you all those times. He doesn’t know how to even make it up to you. He doesn’t know if he even can. 

So the next day, when you didn’t come out of your room, he let you have your alone time. Now on Monday he tried knocking on your door, only to receive the notice that you felt sick. He tried walking in but your door was completely locked. His eyebrows twitched and his mind had come up with a plan. A plan he will terribly hate. A plan that might end up badly for him. But it’s what he deserves for what he did to you. 

Billy looked everywhere for you, and even asked Barbara Holland where you could be. She told him that she hadn’t seen her at Science that day either, so his best guess was that you had skipped school. His jaw clenched when he asked other people about you and some of them didn’t even know what you looked like. He waited for the bell to ring, and he was going to tumble Steve down if he had to in order to see you. He didn’t care.

But when he walked out of the school doors to rush to his Camaro, he was surprised to see Steve Harrington sitting on his trunk with his arms crossed. Billy’s eyes hardened at the sight, walking towards him, tilting his head in question at the brown haired boy who was looking at Billy with a mix of emotions behind his eyes.

“Harrington. Get off my fucking car.” He says and Steve gulps as he looks to the side.

“I fucked up.” At that Billy’s eyebrows turned into a frown, but his fists started clenching as Steve kept talking, telling him everything, everything he did to you, and what he had said to you that night when Billy left. 

While this was happening, you were combing your hair after the shower you took while sitting on your bed. You had taken a shower because you were greasy from yesterday already, and you really didn't want to get up, but you didn’t have a choice. Ever since Steve said that, you didn’t have the guts to actually call Billy because at some far away place in your mind, it made sense. 

You were invisible, and suddenly you were noticed? It doesn’t sound real. 

So maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it really was to get into your pants to mess with your brother, and that was honestly the most reasonable explanation for it. You frowned when you heard the door open downstairs, your door was left open so you could hear some drawers being open, to then hear steps coming up the stairs. Your eyes widened when you saw Steve slamming himself against the door frame of your room.

His eye was completely inflamed from a punch received to the face, his nose was bleeding and he was holding some ice covered in a rug to soak the blood in it. From what you could see, his lip was busted as well and his breathing was coming out of his mouth, almost in a pant.

“Steve, what happened?” Even in your hatred for him, seeing him this way made your heart fill with worry, pushing all of the other feelings aside. You were about to rise from the bed until Steve raised his hand up at you.

“I deserved it.” He looked towards the hallway and your eyes widened when you saw Billy coming into view, a pack of frozen peas on his right hand, his eyes glaring at Steve as he passed by him and into your room. His eyes turned to yours and you couldn’t help but look up at him, completely stunned. Steve groans and closes the door for you two as he heads downstairs. 

“What… Did you…?” You stutter as you sit back on your bed, seeing Billy’s injured hand as he sat on your bed too, nodding as he looked at you.

“I sure as hell did. Fucker deserved it. He told me everything, from the very beginning, and also what he said to you on Saturday night right after I left.” You feel your face flush with embarrassment and you look down at your hands again. You are not understanding what is going on, nor why Steve would go and tell your life story to Billy. “Though I have to say… Your brother does care for you.” You scoff at that.

“Right. Like he cared for me the past two years.” You reply with venom in your voice and you feel Billy scoot closer to you.

“He knows. He knows what he did to you. Your freshman year was the punch on the eye, your sophomore year was on his lip… And what he said on Saturday was the one on the nose.” He lets out a chuckle and you feel mixed emotions to that. You were happy that he defended your honor, but Steve was still your brother and you didn’t want physical harm to come to him.

“Don’t punch him again… Please.” You slowly looked up at Billy and his blue eyes were already looking at you. Your heart rate picked up the longer he stared at you.

“Do you really believe what he said to you that night?” He asks you, a small worried tone behind his voice. You feel yourself gulp and you look away in embarrassment or nervousness, you no longer know.

“I– After years of feeling this way, it was a very possible scenario.” You say to him in a low voice, your fingers playing with each other. You see him put the bag of peas away, and his hands look for yours. You look down to see his right hand completely bruised up, some skin completely chipped off on his knuckles. You gasp at that and his hold gets stronger on you, making you look up at him. He was closer now, making your breathing get stuck in your throat. 

“How can I prove to you that I want you? How can I prove to you that I like you, that I like you very much that I drive myself insane with this fucking feeling, because god knows I am not good with relationships…” For the first time you see a blush come to his cheeks, and his gaze looks down at your connected hands, like how you do when you get nervous. “But I wanna try that with you.” 

Your heart leapt out of your mouth almost, not truly believing what was happening, but the bruised knuckles made it more real, the blush on his cheeks made you realize it was no dream at all. This man in front of you wants you, despite it all, and you both have so many broken pieces to pick up inside one another, but you figure that you can help each other. You can mend his heart back, as he can mend yours.

“I think… The first step would be a date…” You say to him almost in a whisper and he chuckles as he looks up at you. He squints slightly at that as if in thought as your smile grows on your face while looking at him.

“I have an idea for it. I think they are showcasing the new Rambo movie.” He says to you with a smirk to his face and your mouth fell open at that, shaking your head.

“I am not watching an action movie on our first date!” He chuckles at that, his face coming closer to yours slowly, and you feel magnetized to him as you both leaned into one another. 

“Oh, I bet you prefer the one where the bad boy goes for the intelligent and perfect girl, that genre, right?” You squint at him, pretending to be offended by his words.

“Don’t act like you don’t like those movies Hargrove.” At that he chuckles, his left hand snaking to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him, a soft breath hitting your lips as he talks.

“I might have a thing for romance.” His lips touched yours again, and you smiled through the kiss, your own hands resting on the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss, to taste him even better. Your lips moved along with his, taking in eachother’s breaths, bodies coming closer at each second.

“Don’t fuck my sister, I draw the line there. Not today, not with me here.” You both heard Steve’s voice behind the door, making Billy groan in annoyance and pull away from you to glare at the door as the steps could be heard and another door closes down the hallway.

“I am punching him again.” Billy says and you were glaring at the door too.

“My turn.”

A/N: Well shit, I hope you enjoyed. IT TURNED OUT TO BE A ONE SHOT.

[celestialholz]

Live long and fuck in Hondas (or 'why that Vulcan salute is way more significant than you think it is')

Hey. Hey Holz. Did you know Deadpool and Wolverine fucked in the Odyessy? Did you know that they now live in a one-bed with Blind Al? Did you know that -

Yes, friend. I know all of it. And you're all super fucking valid for pointing it out.

... But maybe all of you aren't seasoned Trekkies like me. Maybe not all of you gorgeous people understand the true significance of this.

Or maybe you just want a definitive way to win the argument of "are these two fucking?"

But either way, I'm here to help, and to tell you why, amongst all the absurdly homoerotic text of this film, this moment? Might be the gayest of them all.

Now, we must start by saying that although you wouldn't know it from the bullshit Abrams films, these two:

Are the fathers of gay fanfiction. Spock and Kirk here are the reason you're living in the fantastic timeline where you can write/read men fucking without any other shred of plot and that this is a legitimate and normalised internet experience - everyone say thank you, iconic papas. These guys were so homoerotically coded that even in the 60s, the era of wondrously overdramatic performances of all kinds and fairly prevalent homophobia, The Girlies still took notice, still started mailing each other fics and making zines and being just hugely excited at the thought of these two getting space-married. They are fandom as we know it today's beginning, and seventy years later they're still an enduringly popular ship on AO3. (You should all go and watch Amok Time, by the way. Contains the Honda Odyessy scene of the 60s, except there's weird biology and wrestling and just go and put it on your screens, thank me later. They fucked on that planet.)

Anyway, these two were as close as early colour TV could ever allow two men to be, deepening their *coughs* friendship almost every single episode or film - Trek's creator Gene Roddenberry even gave them a unique word in Spock's Vulcan language, with the meaning of 'friend, brother, lover.' (And if that isn't ringing any Poolverine bells, I'm not actually sure what you want out of this post. Enjoy it anyway, love you.)

... And then we get to 1982's The Wrath of Khan, and to that moment that every iconic screen couple must face - the ol' classic, it's you or me and I won't let it be you.

Sure, the set-up's a little different here - the chamber Spock's in is filled with radiation, and the scene's quieter, softer. And Kirk isn't a mutant so he can't smash his way in, he can just sit there and inwardly die as his emotional support Vulcan does.

... But you get where I'm coming from here. Ryan Reynolds doesn't take a million other potential love scenes from across the cinematic ages - no, he takes this. What is for many the romantic acknowledgement of a whole generation. The humble and desperately sweet beginning of it everything we fans know and love nowadays. The most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in television, directly comparative to what is now arguably the most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in cinema. And lest we forget, Wade doesn't believe in a fourth wall - this is a conscious choice, both in canon and in the writer's room.

Oh it's so clever and so beautiful a girl could weep. Ryan just introduced the MCU to the gays, just as Kirk and Spock did all those years ago to the masses of the time.

And then there's what it means.

This is the Vulcan salute, created to mean either 'live long and prosper' or 'peace and long life' - it's used more or less interchangeably.

But part of that's irrelevant when you're as immortal as these two.

So we're left with the sentiments of prosperity and peace, given to a man who up to this point can't imagine ever prospering again, is the furthest thing away from being at peace. Wade gives Logan the opportunity to go on, to find the things he's been lacking for so long now - things he has already helped him find. Spock tells Kirk during The Wrath that 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,' and that's exactly what Wade's doing here - sacrificing himself for the greater good of his friends and his newly beloved, however much it will hurt them all.

And that's lovely, and poignant, and character-growing, and I think we all would have been content to leave it at that and have our noble sacrifice, however much we would have wept. Kirk goes on to find the remnants of Spock's soul in the next film in the series, to bring him essentially back from the dead because he felt it was more than his own soul's worth not to have done... which, again, ringing a bell anyone?

Because Logan, in not so many words, tells dear Wade to fuck right off, and we get this.

What we've got here is a direct translation of one of cinema's gayest moments, made somehow infinitely more gay. A true achievement here - I genuinely think I spontaneously acquired tetanus in the cinema for a good minute, my jaw dropped so hard on seeing this. The pillars are the same colour as Kirk and Spock's original uniforms, for fuck's sake. I'm dying out here.

What we've done here is create narrative equality. The whole film's kinda done that leading up to this anyway - they're both mentally fucked up men who can't die, who are constantly dying anyway, who are evenly-matched in battle and both enjoy Honda fucking, who have forged a real love even as they piss each other off at every turn.

But here, they place one another in narrative equality for the first time. It's not about a sacrifice, not now, even though they're assuming it is one - it's about what should be done. It's about righting wrongs, being heroes, being together because every option other than that is unacceptable, because neither understands quite how to lose anyone else. They've both made the same choice, and that's not to let the other die alone.

It's about holding hands and loving and never letting go, even if it kills them.

... It's just about the most romantic and gorgeous thing I've ever fucking seen.

There are no more instances of masks, once they're done in this station. They don't need them any longer; they will never need them again.

And that's only emphasised by the parting shot we get of this... almost directly after Vanessa and Wade share a final sweet look.

I don't know, man. It's almost like the true conclusion is hidden behind the acceptable masquerade. Imagine that in the MCU, folks.

They've taken one of the most intimate and sweet moments in screen history, and made even more glorious.

They did The Wrath of Khan better than The Wrath of Khan did it.

And that's... that's gay. That's just about the gayest thing they could ever have done, and I adore it to the smallest pieces.

So remember, the next time your friends disbelieve you... show 'em this. Show them that they redid the very beginnings of slash fandom, and did it better.

(And then you can add on that they now live in a one-bed with their grandma, daughter and dog, and will do for the rest of their lives. Kirk and Spock didn't even get THAT shit.)

[kiyoomi-levin]

Morning Routine pt.1 [nsfw]

(Wakatoshi Ushijima x F!Reader)

a/n this is something i wrote and edited today in a single run >.< I wanted to release a haikyuu fluff fic for my tumblr debut but i was just possessed by something this morning and rolled outta bed and just typed this up hehe.. reblogs and comments appreciated!! i have like 12 unfinished works rn and i am busting my ass off to get those finished and published! please be on the lookout for more from me!

summary:: wakatoshi has a bad habit-- his morning routine revolves around you. more specifically, cumming to the sounds of you. warnings:: wakatoshi is highkey a creep/stalker but this fic is fluffy i promise music rec!:: 2fast by superm <AKA the song i listened to when writing> word count:: 1.9k

6:33 AM, the blinking clock reads. 

He doesn’t even need an alarm now. 

Silently, Wakatoshi rolls over, reaches over to his nightstand and grasps the two items he needs most– lube and toilet paper. 

Sighing, he sits himself up, leaning against the headboard of the bed, and, as if awaiting instructions, goes very, very still. 

In a way, he is waiting for orders. You just aren’t aware that you’re the one giving them. 

6:34 AM. A mere minute before you’re up and he can get started with his day. It doesn’t feel right, yet he can’t stop. Shaking his head, Wakatoshi shifts his weight around, impatient. 

I should stop. 

There it is. That nagging voice of reason that scolds him every morning. But really, at this point, he can’t function normally without you. 

There’s a certain amount of stress that comes with carrying the title of ace. All the papers praising his skills, cheering fangirls, and words of encouragement from coach only added to the ever growing expectations that people had for him. 

Luckily, when he was a senior in high school, Wakatoshi had discovered what best alleviates this pressure– not meditation, not Tendo’s comics, but sexual relief. 

Every morning, a quick handjob does the job, gets him into prime condition. He even checked with his primary doctor to ensure it’s safe and healthy to release everyday– “you’ll be fine, Wakatoshi, as long as you don’t consume too much porn,” the old man had advised kindly. 

He took the doctor’s words to heart– since he had discovered this method of relief, Wakatoshi had never viewed porn. Some of his teammates laughed at him when they found out he almost religiously avoids it, but he doesn’t want to contaminate his brain with potentially intrusive or disturbing visions. His imagination has always been enough, after all. 

Until he met you.

In a way, you’re both a blessing and a curse– probably the latter, he admits to himself. Because since he’d met you months ago, the only thing that’s been able to get him up is you. 

He’s never slept so well, his skin has never looked so clear, and, most importantly, his condition on court has never been better. He’s considered the possibility of you being a goddess, or possibly his guardian angel and can only rule those out with the fact that you, like him, masturbate. 

More accurately, masturbate. Every. Single. Morning. 

Then he hears it. The first soft moan. Wakatoshi glances at the time– 6:37 AM. You’re getting a slightly late start today. 

No matter. He lifts his hips, gently rolls down his gray sweats to his lower thigh. He’s already hard. He doesn’t even have to touch himself now to get excited. Your quiet voice and the thoughts of you are enough.

Poor you. You’re unaware that despite residing in a luxurious, single-person room reserved for school athletes, the walls are criminally thin. 

Wakatoshi pops open the lid of the lube, squirting a glob into his warm hand. He throws aside the bottle, barely registering as it bounces off the bed, only intent on listening into the sounds of you and your body. 

When he first grasps his cock, he has to hold back a groan. Despite it being an everyday routine, he still feels the same surge of pleasure as when he first started this nasty habit months ago. 

You're breathing slightly more heavily now, and he hears the sounds of your fingers inserting and exiting your body at a familiar pace. He follows along, carefully stroking up and down. 

He wonders where you’ve learned this from, because you always go at the perfect pace. Somedays, you go slower, teasing yourself, pausing just before you orgasm, but it’s always. 

It’s always exactly what he needs.

God. He knows this is wrong, even as he pumps faster with his left hand to keep up with your quick fingers. It feels so good. 

Next door, you’re beginning to let out soft cries.

He presses his thumb against the tip, holding back a moan of his own as he envisions you jerking him off. 

He’s seen your hand before– extra soft from being in gloves for multiple hours daily as a fencer. 

Thinking about your sport has him thinking about his, and now he’s back to thinking about how wrong this is. But he can’t help it, he’s already tried to give it up once– yielding horrible results. 

The day he held back and skipped a morning fap session with you was also the hardest day of his life. He had found himself unable to focus in lecture, especially grumpy towards Tendo’s typically bearable antics, and worst of all, all his hits were off. 

“Your schedule must be off,” his captain had said, casually tossing a ball high into the air.

“Bad sleep? Rough morning?” 

Wakatoshi had blinked at him wordlessly, wondering how the tall setter had guessed accurately. 

“It’s fine,” the third-year had reassured him, “just get back on track tomorrow.”

With that, Wakatoshi had found himself ‘back on track,’ masturbating with– no, to you– every morning. 

You’re moaning out loud now, almost whimpering. His cock pulses in his hands, veins bulging, growing hotter and heavy. Fuck, he just wants to see you right now. Your cute face, your sexy neck, gorgeous arms... 

He can almost see it now– your smooth thighs shaking and twisting as your small hands would grasp your pillow. He’d make you feel so good, he just knows it. He’d lean against you, kiss your neck and ear before whispering how good you are, how you’re making him cum, how much he loves you! 

You’d cum, and he wouldn’t stop. He’d want to see your eyes roll back over and over again, and he’d memorize every inch of your face.

Wakatoshi holds back another groan. His fisted hand feels so good against his cock, especially as it imagines it’s your tight pussy. 

Contrary to what Tendo believes (the only one to know about this bad habit) it wasn’t just your soft moans and quiet gasps that had him clenching his sheets as he lifted his hips.

He had long fallen for you, since you had first locked eyes with him in the long hallway. 

There was something about you. The way you always smile up at him gently– not in the way that other girls smile at him, as if they want something (usually his number)– but a genuine smile, eyes crinkling slightly.  

This unexpected attraction was only exacerbated when you sat next to him at the first-years’ dinner party. You smelled so fucking good and listened to his words with actual interest, asking him about his family and laughing at his lame jokes.

Unfortunately, he was also scared. 

He had heard about the countless rejections you’d dished out since the first day of university. 

Despite his perceived sexual ignorance, Wakatoshi knew everything there was to know– he was popular, too, in his own right. Tall and lean, there were girls throwing themselves on him left and right. 

But he only wanted you. 

Today, he must be extra stressed (especially with that upcoming psychology exam that he hasn’t studied for yet) because he’s so, so close, yet can’t seem to finish. 

Fine then. 

He leans over, grabs his cell phone. He only does this in emergency cases, which occurs about once or twice a month. 

Swiping up, he’s greeted by his photo gallery, opened the night prior for this cause. 

In his locked gallery awaits dozens of photos of you. 

Obviously none were taken by him! 

Wakatoshi’s a creep, but one with manners and boundaries. 

This gallery is cluttered with headshots of you from the school’s official website, silly photos of you that were sent into the college athlete’s group chat, and his favorite– photos of you from your close friend who sells them to him at fair prices, starting at $10 minimum. 

None are suggestive. But they still rile him up, maybe because the only connection he has with you is through your early morning activities. 

Wakatoshi desperately taps on the newest picture he bought for $40, quadruple the usual price– he can hear your breath hitching, and he knows you’re almost done. 

He wants to finish with you so bad. 

He was going to save this picture for next week, when he knows you’ll be gone for the fencing nationals and he’ll have to cum without you for an entire miserable, dreadful, god-forsaken week–

but he doesn’t care now. Nothing matters. 

It’s a glorious photo– when he heard your friend had it, he had grabbed her by the shoulders and demanded a price. 

You. On the beach. Under an umbrella. Lying on a purple towel.

He had paid an extra ten dollars for the motion picture– so he could watch you go from ass up onto your back, breasts jiggling and cheeky smirk in full action.

That’s enough. 

He holds his fist tight–one more pump and he’s finished, but he wants to make sure you’re cumming first– and he hears it– to his relief, you’re moaning and whispering– “‘m cumming!” 

Yeah, he’s cumming too. His hips lift again, and he drags his closed fist downwards against his wet cock. His vision blurs. 

“Fuck!” 

He can’t help it, today’s orgasm is especially strong, taking control of his full body. He’s shaking, mind barely in control as he continues to slowly pump to ride out the whole orgasm. After all, that’s what you’d do, right? You’d keep riding him, even as he finished and begged you to stop. 

Thank God we came together.

Sometimes, you bait him. More often than he likes, you switch it up, holding yourself back and not allowing yourself to cum before masturbating all over again for an even more powerful orgasm. Those days suck– when he’s already softening, cum all over his large hands, and you’re still going. 

He hears your bed squeak, and he sighs– as soon as it starts, it’s already over.

6:45 AM, his phone reads. Wakatoshi tosses it aside.

Thankfully, he had pulled his phone away in time, avoiding tainting the device with his release. A few times a month, he gets careless and cums onto an open picture of you, causing him to have to run through his shower extra fast so he can leave time to wipe down the device.

Rolling off the bed, he heads towards the shower leisurely. It’s also become a part of his routine to time his shower. It makes him feel even more intimately connected to you. 

Wakatoshi’s grateful you take long showers– you’ve never taken less than 24 minutes to shower, typically, they last about 34 minutes on average. That gives him the time to jump out first and wait to exit his room at the same time you depart from yours. 

Under the heat of warm water, he’s usually consumed with thoughts of you, impossible thoughts, like maybe you know. 

The wall between you and him is equally thin, and your hearing may be as equally good as his…

Maybe you know, and you like masturbating with him. 

And then, just as a precaution, he douses himself with cold water at the end of his shower, and those thoughts dissipate with the steam escaping towards the vent. 

Like everyday, Wakatoshi laces his shoes, sprays on his favorite cologne (that your friend claims you like) and inhales, bracing himself to see you. 

As he hears your feet shuffle, he pushes his door open first, stepping out into the warm hallway.

“Good morning, Wakatoshi!” You greet, eyes brightening. He nods, gulping. That’s an acceptable form of greeting, right?

As the two of you walk towards the elevator in silence, Wakatoshi can’t help but hope that this morning routine won’t be coming to a stop anytime soon. 

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

a/n and that's a wrap :,) i really hope you liked and sorry the ending is highkey shit LOL as i kept editing i kept adding and removing more and more and honestly that's kind of my biggest weakness:: i'm never satisfied with my work and i'm scared ppl won't like it ... but i'm trying to overcome that!

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Dad!Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : first half angst ; reader is pregnant ; Ji is kind of an a-hole ; he fixes himself ; time jump for the second half ; ji and readers daughter is 5 ; Ji is still an a-hole ; angst ; happy ending though ; Word Count : 6.5k Request : Anonny : Can you please write an angst with a fluffy ending on hannie - where y/n surprises him that shez pregnant(w a daughter)but he lashes out at her harshly and says he doesn't want the baby bcz of his tiring and exhausting schedule - but realises his mistake sooner and apologizes her and even takes care of her during her pregnancy and even his precious daughter once she's born , And one mor fic of angst w a fluffy ending on hannie - where he lashes out at his 5 y/o daughter and y/n as they asked him to spend more time with him ,and especially on his daughter's bday and he didn't even remember her daughters bday and said all the possible harsh things like way too harsh things to them on his daughters bday - but later the same he realises it's his daughters bday and regrets immediately and Apologizes to both yn and his daughter and even surprises his precious daughter lately on her birthday A/N : I'm combining these two!! It'll be a famous Nana time jump for this one so I can pair them together in one fic. I changed the request just a little bit, but I hope you still enjoy it, Anonny. ALSO! I think I got the job!! That also means that I'll be working overnights (graveyard shift), but I'll actually be respected and treated fairly so... I'm really happy. I'll be able to get the hours that I need to pay my bills as well. I won't be able to write as much, but I promise I will write when I get the chance to.

Were you and Jisung together? Of course you were, he was the love of your life, and vice versa. You couldn’t imagine a single day that went by when you weren’t able to happily say he was yours. Ji made you laugh, he made you laugh to the point where your stomach hurt and your eyes filled with tears and you were doubled over wheezing and gasping for breath. Ji made your heart feel full, so full that there was no more room in your chest for it to grow anymore. He made you feel loved in a way that was so magical, so dreamlike, it was like living in your own fairytale except it was all real, and every morning you got to wake up and know that he was yours and you were his. 

Were you and Jisung together though? No, very rarely. His job kept him away from you more often than not, and while the moments that the two of you were able to physically be together were… well, dreamlike, a lot of the time, most of the time, your interactions were kept to phone calls and late night texts or video calls. You tried to be supportive, you didn’t complain as much as most people probably would, although there were many times when you wanted to just break down and beg him to put you before his job at least once a month. But you didn’t, you’d put on a smile as you hugged him and kissed him goodbye after one of those rare nights when he would be able to come over and spend the night. 

He spent most of his time at the dorms with the other guys, and while he’d try to invite you over there, you’d always kindly decline. As much as you loved the guys and looked at them as brothers, you wanted to be able to spend time with Ji alone, and to you it seemed like he’d rather be around them than to be around you sometimes. You wished that he’d grow up a little, prioritize the relationship, and it seemed less like a wish and more like a need now. It only took one rare night that he spent the night for you to get the most life changing news of… well… your life. 

///

“Can you… Can you hear me?” You asked into your phone, the mind numbing sound of static coming through the speaker was headache inducing, but you really needed to talk to him. 

“Yeah… Kind of… Shit, this reception is really bad. Can you just text me, baby?” His voice came through choppy and muffled, it sounded like he was underwater, and while you knew that it would be best to text him considering the way the phone call was going, this wasn’t really something that you wanted to tell him over text. You wanted to hear his reaction, and while it would have definitely been better to tell him in person, he was currently on tour and you knew that by the time he got back, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise. 

“I really need to talk to you…” You said, rushing out the front door to stand on the porch, hoping that the service would be better now that you were outside. “Can you hear me now?” You asked, and you heard him hum in agreement, and while you should have felt better that this moment wasn’t stalled any longer, your stomach began to twist into knots and although the mid-February wind was whipping around you, there was sweat dripping down the back of your neck. 

“You okay, baby? What’dya need to talk about?” His voice filled the silence, and you knew that he didn’t have much time before he had to go back to work. He wasn’t rushing you, but you felt rushed, you didn’t want to wait forever to tell him, and you thought that maybe the news would brighten his day and lift his mood that had already peaked. He was so sweet, so gentle, and he had often talked about one day having a little baby Ji to follow in his footsteps, you were certain that his reaction would be nothing but positive. 

“I’m pregnant, Ji…” You whispered, and there was no question as to whether he heard you. The sound of a gasp, and then loud coughing, and then silence. Had he muted his phone so he could celebrate with the guys? “Babe? You still there?” You asked, trying not to get overly excited yourself. You wanted to save your own celebration for when he came back home and you both could be together to share in the excitement of such big news. 

“No. I… Look, I need some time to think about this because… You just… Do you even know what I’m doing right now? I’m about to do a show and you think I needed to hear that before I go on stage? As if things aren’t stressful enough for me… I don’t… I don’t want a damn kid right now!” Had you set your expectations too high? This was most definitely not the way you thought that the announcement would turn out, and this wasn’t the way you thought he’d be. It was so shocking that you were stunned into silence, frozen like a statue on the front porch. “I don’t want it. That’s it… That’s all I have to say. Figure something out because this isn’t going to work. I have to go.” 

And he did. He hung up, leaving you with so many thoughts, but none of them stuck long enough to really form into anything more. What the hell did he expect you to do? You were already 3 months along, it’s not like you were just going to get rid of the baby because he decided that he didn’t want it. That did change things though, it changed a lot of things. You weren’t sure what you were going to do right at that very second, but you had a lot to figure out before he came back from tour. 

~

After the concert, after all of the stress of the show wore off, he was able to really think. He thought about the phone call, he thought about what he said, and he was immediately hit with a wave of regret. He didn’t know what the hell he was thinking when he said it, he didn’t know what came over him, and the only reason he could truly come up with was the stress. It was the damndest thing, because he truthfully wouldn’t mind being a father, especially knowing that someone as amazing and caring and loving as you would be the mother to his child. 

That’s why he tried to get in touch with you, calling your phone repeatedly until he came to the stomach turning conclusion that you just weren’t going to answer him. That didn’t stop him from calling once more to leave a message though. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, I love you so damn much, and I’m happy, I really am. I do want the baby, I want this, I do. Please, don’t think about what I said, I wish I could just take it all back, I wish I could make you forget that I was stupid enough to say something like that. I hope you’re sleeping and when you wake up, just call me, please call me, baby. I need to hear your voice, I need to know that we’re going to be okay. I love you.” 

The call was promptly ended before he fell back onto the hotel bed. It was strange how he had been able to sleep by himself in the dorms for so many nights, he was able to fall asleep without you, but now that he knew that you were carrying his child, now that he knew how much he had fucked up, he couldn’t seem to sleep at all, and he wanted nothing more than to be right beside you, holding you. 

He was restless, he couldn’t even close his eyes to try to get some sleep, and he knew that there was no way he’d be able to perform the following night, not unless he knew everything was okay back at home. So he didn’t sleep, instead he got online and started looking up tickets for the next flight that would take him home to you. How was he even supposed to perform when his mind was running rampant with thoughts of you leaving him? He couldn’t do anything with those thoughts plaguing him. 

So he bought the ticket, a red eye flight that he’d hopefully be able to get a little bit of shut eye on before he landed. He didn’t just need to sleep, he needed to think of what he’d say once he got back home to you. He was sure that the guys would understand. Or maybe they wouldn’t… He’d apologize to them for leaving on such short notice, and he’d make sure to come up with some elaborate excuse for the fans as to why he wasn’t there. 

He knew that he wasn’t the best at prioritizing the most important things, at least not what most people would consider important. He had spent so many years of his life working towards this dream of becoming a famous idol, and even when he achieved that dream, he just couldn’t stop. Even when you had entered his life and made the world seem so much brighter, he had foolishly continued to choose his career, and you had, amazingly enough, still decided to stand beside him and put up with his shit. He had to show you that you were important, not just you now though, but this baby, this child who had come as a surprise, but he made a mental note and a promise to himself to love this child, his child, regardless of anything that happened. 

///

You stood in the kitchen, a cup of coffee held tightly in your hands as you overlooked the city just outside your window. You tried not to think about what he had said, you wanted to have a decent morning, well, evening… It was already 1 in the afternoon. When you woke up there had been so many calls from him, but only one voicemail that you were far too scared to listen to. You knew that he was angry, he was pissed, and you didn’t want him to go off on you again, even if it were only through a recording. You still had to figure out what to do though, it didn’t seem like there was much in regards to options. You weren’t going to get rid of the baby, and as much as you loved Jisung, the life that was now growing inside of you was far more important than a relationship that was clearly one sided. 

The birds chirping just outside your window had captured your attention fully, the sounds of the city which had seemed so loud before were now almost calming, but that calm was soon disrupted by the sound of the lock being undone on your front door. You whipped around just in time to see Jisung standing in the doorway, disheveled and slightly frazzled as he dropped his bags to the floor. “What are you doing here?” You asked, refusing to move any closer to him. “Thought you had a tour to worry about?” 

His head shook and his bottom lip jutted out, shaky breaths had him trembling where he stood just as still as you had been on the front porch just yesterday. “The tour isn’t more important than you. It’s not more important than our family… our baby…” He whispered, his voice shaking just as much as his body was. “I was an idiot, an overly stressed out idiot… But I didn’t mean it. D-Did you listen to the message?” 

You rolled your eyes, trying not to pay too much attention to how sad he was and just how much it pulled at your heartstrings to see him that way. You just had a soft spot for him, and you were sure that that would never go away, or, at the least, take a while to fade. You had to be strong though, and even if what he said was true, you had to let him know how much you had been hurt by what he said before. “No… I didn’t. I think you said enough, and I didn’t really want to listen to your voice again, not any time soon.” It was a lie, you loved his voice, you didn’t want to go a day without hearing it, but watching the way his face crumpled, you could tell that your words really hit him. 

“That’s fair…” He whispered, a loud sniffle coming from across the room. “You don’t have to listen to it… I’ll say it now. I love you… and I love the little baby that we made together… And I’m sorry I was a dick. I don’t want to lose you, not because I was stupid and stressed out. I don’t want to lose you at all, ever.” Now his words were hitting you, although you were definitely going to blame the fresh tears that were streaming down your face on the raging hormones that were currently coursing through your body. “Don’t cry… Please don’t cry, I’ll cry too.” 

“You’re already crying though…” You whimpered out, a small sob mixed with a giggle. It felt so nice to laugh, but it felt even better to laugh with him. You wanted to put it in the past, not forget it, but right now you just wanted to move on. “Do you have to go back? I don’t want you to get in trouble for missing the shows…” 

His shoes had already been kicked off, making his way now over to where you stood in the kitchen, his hands cupping your face and his thumbs brushing away your tears. “I’m staying here… Where I belong. Changbin or Hyunjin can cover my parts. I want to be here with you, and that’s where I’m going to be. No more crying, I want to hear all about how you’re feeling, I want to be here for you.” 

///

The next months of your pregnancy were strange. It was like they were going too fast, but they also weren’t going fast enough. You loved being pregnant, but you weren’t a big fan of all the attention you were getting. It was one thing for it to be coming from Ji, but it was like everyone gravitated towards you, or… Moreso, your bump that everyone seemed to want to touch and ogle over like they’ve never seen a pregnant woman before. 

Jisung was too kind to tell anyone to really back away from you, and you didn’t know half of the people that would swarm around you wherever you went, but it was exhausting to deal with them. You knew that Jisung meant well though, and you could tell that he was proud to be a soon-to-be father, you could just feel the pride radiating off of him whenever he talked about it. 

His proudest moment to date though, was when he found out you were having a girl, that you were carrying his daughter. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he looked on in awe at the sonogram screen. You had to practically snap him back to reality that day, his head stuck in the clouds, daydreaming about the day his daughter would be born, the day he’d finally get to hold her and see her. He had told you all about it in the car on the way home. 

From that day forward, as if he wasn’t already like your shadow, he practically became glued to your hip. You love him, you really do, but it became annoying, not that you’d tell him that. You couldn’t do anything without him being right there beside you just to do it for you. You appreciated the help, but it’s not like you were on bed rest, you could still do things on your own. You couldn’t blame anyone for him being so protective, the only thing you could blame was the internet. He had been looking up what changes your body went through during the many weeks of your pregnancy, and he happened to stumble across the complications that could occur as well. That’s when you got your very panicked, very helpful, and slightly irritating Jisung. 

By the time you reached the third trimester though, you were so exhausted and your back ached so badly that you didn’t even mind it anymore. He had managed to get the rest of the guys in on helping you too, especially if he was in the studio for a long period of time- which was anything longer than 45 minutes -he’d have one of them check up on you and see if you needed anything. 

When he was home or when he got home, he’d shower you in attention and affection, kissing you first before pressing a kiss to your stomach and asking how your day has been, although his gaze would be focused solely on your stomach, absolutely mesmerized by the way your stomach looked when his daughter would move. He loved the way she reacted to his voice, you on the other hand could never get comfortable, although you once again, would never tell him that. He just looked so happy, and he’d get so excited, telling everyone how his baby girl recognized his voice and would move whenever she heard him. 

Of course, she decided to stay in for a little longer than the expected 40 weeks, and by the 41st week you were begging the doctors to induce you. You couldn’t remember the last time you were able to use the bathroom or take a shower without Jisung being right outside the door asking if you were okay or if you needed help every 5 seconds. He really did mean well, but you couldn’t wait for your daughter to be out so that you’d be able to not only get some peace, but also some privacy where you needed it most. 

It was all worth it though when you saw Jisungs face light up at the sight of his daughter when she was born. Tears of joy streamed down his face as his hands seemed to automatically reach out for her, his lips formed into a circle, absolutely amazed at the fact that this, not so little, baby just came from you. If there had been nothing else to prove to you how good of a father he would be, this moment, the moment she was placed into his arms and you could just see it in his face, his entire world was complete now… He was going to be the best father. 

///

5 years seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and the little baby girl that would once curl up in yours and Jisungs arms to fall asleep, your little cuddle bug, was now a ball of energy that would whip around the house being the biggest goofball, much like her father, to bring a smile to people's faces. She was the life and the light of any room she went into, but at night, when she’s run out all of her energy and she’s tuckered out, you and Ji will catch a glimpse of your little baby girl, curled up in the middle of his and your bed. 

She was more energetic than usual, but that’s because it was her birthday. Her party wouldn’t be until the weekend, but you still wanted to do a little something special to celebrate the official day. Jisung had to work, but he didn’t want to get stuck at the office so he decided to work from home so he could just pack up his laptop and not deal with the commute, he’d be right at home with you and Jisoo when he was done. 

It was hard to keep her occupied, she was so excited and she knew she had presents to open, and you were trying to not only prepare her favorite dinner but also make cupcakes for her. There was so much to do, and you were doing it all on your own so that Ji could work. You were one person, you only had 2 eyes, although a lot of people joke and say that mothers have eyes on the backs of their heads, it seemed like those eyes were focused on the timer on the oven to make sure the cupcakes didn’t burn. That’s why you didn’t realize that she had, at some point, strolled into Jisungs makeshift office/studio. 

“Daddy.” She said, standing right beside him, tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie to try to get his attention. Her smile was wide, two little dimples adorning both of her cheeks as she looked up at him with the brightest eyes. He sighed harshly through his nose, pulling out one of his earphones to look down at her. “You coming now?” She was completely oblivious to the glare that her father was wearing, or at least, she was oblivious to the fact that it was directed entirely towards her. 

“I’m really busy right now, go bother your mother or something.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he tried to turn his attention back to his computer, but Jisoo wasn’t going to allow it. She tugged on his sleeve again, her mouth open to say something else, but Jisung spoke before she could. “Get out. You’re such a burden sometimes, Jesus Christ!” He seethed, his head falling back as he let out a loud groan. 

Jisoo wasn’t oblivious anymore, no, she was heartbroken, and quite honestly confused. She quickly scurried away from him, sniffling softly as she ran out of the room. Neither you or Jisung had ever yelled at her, let alone raised your voices around her. She was shocked, she was devastated, and she immediately ran to you. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” You dropped everything you had been doing to scoop her up and set her on the counter top, working quickly to wipe away the tears that poured down her puffy little cheeks. Your immediate worry was that she had hurt herself, your eyes scanning over her head, her face, her arms, and her legs to look for any visible signs of scrapes or bruises, but there were none. “Did you get a booboo?” 

Her head shook quickly, her hair whipping around her face as she did before dropping her head. She looked embarrassed, and if she had known the word and what it meant at her age, she’d tell you that that’s exactly how she felt. “I try to tell Daddy that it my birthday…” She started, her sentences broken up by shaky breaths and loud sniffles. “He yell at me… told me get out… He say I a bird hen… I not even know what that means…” 

She might not know what it meant, but you sure as hell knew what he meant, and you were pissed. “You’re not a bird hen, honey. You’re wonderful, and I know that daddy didn’t mean to yell. He just gets lost in his computer sometimes. He loves you though, and mommy loves you too.” You pressed a big, wet kiss to her forehead, trying and succeeding in getting her to giggle so that you could get her mind off of being upset. “How about you go play with your dolls in your room so that I can decorate your cupcakes and they’ll be a surprise. How’s that sound, huh?”

Jisoos smile was back once more, her hands clapping together as you helped her off the counter. You watched her run to her room, her door being shut fast, and rather loud, in her hurry to let you start on her surprise. Truth be told, you just didn’t want her to listen to you talking to Jisung, not just because you didn’t want her to think about it again, but also because the language you were planning on using wasn’t going to be kid friendly at all. 

It took everything in you not to just storm into the room and start yelling, but you knew that would draw her attention, so you walked in as calmly as possible, even though it felt like your blood was boiling. He only made things worse for himself when he let out a sound of annoyance, yanking his earphones out and slamming his hands on his desk. “Oh my god! Wh-” 

“You shut the fuck up and you listen to me you son of a bitch.” You hissed the words through clenched teeth, taking one look behind yourself to make sure Jisoo hadn’t come out of her room before storming over to him, your finger pointed and only an inch from his face. “If you ever make my baby cry like that again, I will personally pack all your shit up and throw you out of this fucking house, you hear me?” 

The momentary shock wore off almost instantly, and he was quickly defensive, although he did back away just a little before he spoke. “You knew I was working. I thought you were going to watch her, but I guess I was wrong about that. I should have just gone into the office today, I would be able to get shit done.” 

The fire that was burning inside you, pure rage that had your blood bubbling, it was like it had built up to the top of your body, completely blinding you with rage and all you could see was red as you slammed his laptop shut before picking it up and shoving it against his chest. “Then go to the fucking office, Jisung! Nobody wants you here anyway!” You shouted, your chest rising and falling heavily with each breath that you took. 

“Fine! I’ll be able to actually get something done! Don’t expect me to come home tonight either, I’m not gonna get yelled at because I’m trying to do my job so I can afford everything that you and Jisoo want!” He yelled right back at you, pushing himself up out of the desk chair and grabbing the rest of his things off of the desk. There had never been a time, up until now, that you had ever wanted to hit him, but your hands were twitching, your entire body was shaking. You wanted to hurt him, not because of the way he was talking to you though, it was the complete sense of disregard that he had for his own daughter. It made you physically sick. 

“I don’t want you to come back tonight. I don’t want you to come back at all. But you will go tell your daughter that you’re not going to be here to celebrate her birthday with her, and you’re going to be honest and tell her that your job is once again more important than her.” You hissed, finally taking a step back before motioning to the door with your hand. “Now get the fuck out.” He didn’t move though, he was completely frozen and all of the color drained from his face. 

“Fuck… Baby, listen-” 

“I said get out! Go! Do your job! Leave!” You were shouting once again, and you hated that you cried when you got angry, it made you feel weak, especially when your voice would crack and break when you were trying to sound strong. He continued to stand there though, looking absolutely defeated. “Please… Just leave… It’s obvious, work will always be more important to you. It’s like deja vu.” 

“That’s not true at-” 

“Mommy…” Jisoos voice came from behind you, and you quickly turned around to face her, trying to force yourself to smile. She wasn’t blind though, she could see that you were crying, and she had heard you and Jisung arguing. She quickly ran to you, her little arms wrapping around your waist. “Don’t cry… It okay. We have cupcakes… I help you make them and… And you help me blow the candles.” 

You nodded your head as you picked her up, holding her tightly against your chest. There was nothing more comforting than the hug of your own child, to know that they care, and even on a day that should have been all her own, she was still looking out for you. 

“We’ll have lots of fun.” You agreed, your throat tightening up and almost choking off your words. “When we finish making the cupcakes and after we eat your yummy dinner, you can open your presents.” It was so hard to look, let alone sound like everything was completely fine, especially when Jisung was still standing there in front of you, like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Does… Does daddy still have to do work?” Jisoo asked, glancing up at you and then looking over her shoulder at Jisung. Of course you wanted to say yes, you were absolutely livid, you wanted him out of the house at least long enough for you to have the chance to cool down, but you also didn’t want to send him away, especially if Jisoo still wanted him there. “I sorry I a bird hen, I not come in no more when you working.” With every word that she said, Jisung looked more and more ashamed, his head dropping lower and lower until you couldn’t even see his face anymore. “Please… Stay home. It my birthday… We gonna sing the song… And we eat cupcakes. That make everyone happy.” 

Regardless of how you felt, how pissed off you truly were, it was Jisoos birthday, and if she wanted her father there, you weren’t going to still make him leave. Jisung knew this, and while it was a small win that his daughter still wanted him around, he also knew that he had a lot of apologizing to do, not just to Jisoo, but to you as well. “You’re not a bird hen, honey pot.” He murmured, squatting down so that he’d be eye level with her. “I’m a big ol’ dummy head and I’m sorry that I made you sad. Can I have a hug?” His arms stretched out as he asked the question, and as if he hadn’t hurt her feelings at all, she ran into his arms, almost knocking him onto his butt in the process. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna help momma make sure you have the best birthday ever, okay?” 

He was really trying his best, he helped you and Jisoo decorate the cupcakes, he even attempted to help you finish making dinner. There was tension there between the two of you, words that had gone unsaid due to Jisoos perfectly timed interruption, but she was none the wiser to the feeling, she was just happy that the both of you were still there to celebrate with her. That’s what was most important anyway, making sure your daughter was happy. 

“Hey honey, you wanna see something funny?” Jisung asked, and the little nickname had both you and Jisoo giving him your attention, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him at all. His finger was covered in icing that he had swiped off one of the cupcakes at the center of the table, and he was slowly creeping over to the kitchen where you were plating up dinner for the three of you. “I think momma would look super cute if her nose was bright pink, don’t you, honey?” 

Jisoo was laughing already, clapping her hands together as she shouted out her agreement to his question. “Ji…” You warned, trying to retreat from him, but he was closing in fast and there wasn’t much room for escape. “Don’t do it…” You tried to sound stern, but your daughter's twinkling giggles had you cracking a smile, and before you knew it, you were cornered against the counter and Jisung whose finger was inches from your nose. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean it off.” He whispered, winking at you playfully, and if you weren’t still harboring irritation from the way he had acted earlier, the action would have had butterflies swarming in your stomach. “Boop!” He chimed as he wiped the icing on the tip of your nose, laughing along with Jisoo now as she ran over to look at you. 

“Momma look like a clown!” She said between fits of giggles, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with her and Jisung. You loved seeing your daughter happy, it had become your main goal in life, your number one priority, to make sure she was always happy, and if looking like a clown made her smile and laugh the way she was, then you’d dress up like a clown every day for her. 

“She’s the prettiest clown, isn’t she?” Jisung asked, and Jisoo nodded in agreement. “But we can’t have clowns at the dinner table, can we?” And the question had your daughter giggling even louder as she shook her head no. “Grab me a paper towel real quick, honey. Let me help momma clean off the clown nose.” He watched her long enough to make sure her back was turned before he cupped your cheeks, playfully licking the icing off your nose and then pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m the biggest clown, and I’m sorry… Thank you for letting me stay… I love you so much.” It all happened extremely fast, his words being rushed out, it felt like he was going 60 miles per hour, and by the time he had finished what he had to say, Jisoo was just heading over with the paper towel sheet and your face was still scrunched up. 

“Where momma nose go?” Jisoo asked as she handed Jisung the paper towel, her head tilted curiously to the side. 

“I think it just fell off. It’s okay though. Momma is still pretty. I got the two prettiest girls in the world in my house, I’m a lucky guy!” Jisung cheered, and it was painfully obvious that he was doing his best to suck up to you, and it sucked that it was working so well. It was impossible to stay mad at him. That didn’t mean that you weren’t still slightly upset though. You wanted… No, you needed to talk to him. 

///

By the end of the night, which lasted longer than any other night, you were exhausted and the argument from earlier had practically been forgotten, at least for now. Jisoo had opened all of her presents, and, even though you and Jisung had promised her that she could play with them in the morning, she had given her best puppy dog eyes and ended up playing with each of her presents for half an hour each, and of course Jisung had gone overboard in buying her gifts. 

“Are you coming to bed?” You asked, standing in the doorframe to the bedroom, looking down the hall and into the living room where Jisung was sitting in the armchair, his face hidden in his hands. “What’s wrong?” You knew he hadn’t fallen asleep that quick, he had just carried Jisoo into her bed after she had fallen asleep in the middle of her brand new toy pile. 

“She’s going to remember that I yelled at her, she’s going to remember what I said to her for the rest of her life. Deep down, she’s gonna hate me… And I know that you hate me too. I hate me… I can’t believe I said that to her. I was so focused on the computer and… I flipped out on you. I didn’t even deserve to be here with either of you today after what I did… I’m a shitty father and a horrible husband.” He rubbed his hands over his face when he finally lifted his head and you could tell that he had been crying. His eyes were puffy and his nose and his cheeks were blotchy and red. 

How long had these thoughts been eating away at him? You wondered if the way he had been acting earlier was actually him sucking up to you or if he was just trying to keep his mind from going to where it was right now. “Ji…” You whispered out his name, and even though you were beyond tired at this point, you couldn’t just go to bed when he was like this. He might have upset Jisoo and pissed you off, but it seemed like he was more angry at himself than both you and Jisoo combined. “Nobody hates you, I could never hate you, and neither could Jisoo. What you did today was fucked up… But I already yelled at you for it, hell, I almost kicked you out for it. But I don’t hate you. I love you too much, and so does your daughter.” 

“I hurt her… I made her cry, Y/N. What kind of father am I?” 

“You’re the best father a child could ever ask for.” His eyebrows lowered with confusion at your answer, his bottom lip in a seemingly permanent pout as he looked at you. “You made her cry once in her five years of being on this earth. One time, Ji. But you know what you do more than anything else? You make her laugh, you make her smile, you make her feel loved… And you do all of those things for me too. Me and Jisoo are the luckiest girls in the world because we have you.” His pout slowly started to go away, turning into a slight smile as you made your way over to where he was sitting and you dropped down onto his lap. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him as he nuzzled his face against your back. “Plus, if it makes you feel any better… I’ve made her cry about ten times this week already.” 

Jisungs mouth fell open in shock, the entire upper half of his body leaning over so he could look at you. “What?! What did you do to hurt my baby girl?” He asked, and you were sure that right now he was mocking the way you had yelled at him earlier, but you could also see that he was interested in the cause of you making his daughter cry. 

“Whenever we go grocery shopping, she asks to go down the toy aisle to look at the toys… And then she ends up wanting everything that she sees, and I have to tell her no. So she cries, and this week especially, I told her that she’ll be getting a whole bunch of new toys, but… You know how she is.” He nodded his head understandingly. “And then… She tells me that whenever she goes shopping with you, that you get her everything she wants.” You turned your head to face him, and now he was wearing a sheepish grin, his eyes looking everywhere but at you. You laughed lightly, squishing his cheeks between your palms and pressing a kiss to his puckered lips. “Do you feel better now?” He nodded quickly, his eyes sparkling in the low light of the living room. “Good, because I’m so tired and I can’t fall asleep without you next to me. Let’s go.” 

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[soullessdianthus]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 | 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐔

❗ APOLOGIES for the tag list in the comments, Tumblr has an issue with tagging more than 5 people ❗

Summary: Victorian AU where you are hired by Lord Simon Riley as his housekeeper in the secluded countryside. Besides the gardener - Johnny, you barely sees anyone around the house and the strange things begin to happen around you. The manor, or rather its residents, hides a terryfing secret.

AO3 link ⟶ 𝕏

A/N: Huge thanks to @starsexplodeatnight who was so kind and sweet to help me with the fashion aspects of this fic. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Also, won't lie, @ohbo-ohno's works and Ghoap dynamics inspired me to go back to the roots and to write some darker, gothic romance with Ghoap and Reader. At least I tried. ╮(￣▽￣"")╭

Warnings: dark themes, religious themes, dubcon/noncon (full list on Ao3)

Word count: 7.6k

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄

Lord Riley’s house seemed to be alive at times. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. 

You hated how untamed your imagination was especially after nightfall, when the darkness creeped in every hollow and corner of the manor. Since the first day, every night you would leave a single candle lit on the bedside table just to ease the vivid imaginations. When you were a child your mother scolded you about reading such profanities about ghosts and curses. 

And now you knew why. If the candle wasn't lit, strange figures danced in the shadows, their eyes imprinting into your skin and if were they real, would they try to hurt you or rather warn you?

But now, as a grown up woman, those nightmares of your childhood came back to haunt you once again. 

With all of your heart you were grateful for Sir Jonathan Price, a friend of your family, who helped you get into Lord Riley’s favour. It was him who wrote a letter of recommendation to make it easier for you to find a good, suitable job as a woman of your status. 

But he didn’t mention once that the manor was so far from civilization. 

Johnny quickly became your closest confidant around here. A Scottish gardener whose brown hair reached down to his broad shoulders and sparkly eyes in the colour of clear sky. He took care of the gardens as well as master’s horses and sometimes you could find him repairing a fence or something of sort. Johnny was a hardworking man, only a few years older than you, but he was also gentle, clever and jolly.

Such an opposite to Lord Simon who was everything but what Scot was – silent, harsh former lieutenant who would rather spend his time in the solitude of his chambers. Otherwise he would go on a ride or hunt into the forest on one of his favourite studs. Simon’s face was pale as a ghost’s and covered with shallow scars, remnants of his service in the army. 

Nonetheless, the tall, portly man seemed to enjoy your presence, if you dared to assume that, purely because you were quick to adapt. Lord liked his silence and you did not want to disturb your master’s peace, wouldn’t you? 

Within a week you have learned the following pattern – each day started with breakfast, which you ate alongside Lord, sporadically noticing the presence of busy cook, Kyle Garrick, who didn’t happen to talk much. Then, you would proceed with your everyday duties. Which did not include sneaking around to go and talk with the gardener, but nevertheless you did.  

And as the evening would finally come, you were sitting in the playroom of the manor embroidering while Mr. Riley was reading his book. Even Johnny was allowed to come sit with both of you, gnawing at the wooden pipe between his teeth. It all felt so domestic in such a short period of time. 

And how could you believe such gossip about Lord’s hospitality, or rather its lacking, hearsay in the city? 

Sundays were always a day of rest. You were sitting in your bedroom on the highest floor, reading one of the novels you brought from home. Too entertained with the story, you blindly reached for the cup of tea standing nearby. The noise of ceramic pot splattering across the floor caused you to tense immediately. 

It shattered to pieces. Such a waste, it was a pretty one. 

You closed the book with a sigh and set it aside, slowly walking towards a storage on this floor. With a small broom in your hand you returned to your room only to find it oddly… clean. The staining of spilled tea on the flooring was gone just as the bits of what was left of the floral cup. 

Almost like it never even happened. 

Your eyes wandered across the chamber, searching for the mess you just made. But every little trace of it was gone. You kneeled down and looked under each piece of furniture. Still, nothing was found, a broken teapot swallowed by the void.

Slowly you retracted from the room onto the long hallway, searching for the maids or signs of their presence. It must have been one of them, right?

— Hello? — You asked with hesitation in your voice, but there was no living soul to answer you back. Not nearby anyways. 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈

Coos of the crows and rattle of their wings echoed through the old trees. And although the sky was grey and cloudy that day, no rain had yet fallen. Alongside Johnny, you went for an afternoon stroll down the borderline of the forest, enjoying a minute of break.

— How long have you been working for Lord Simon? 

— A couple of years now — the man reached down the wild grain growing on the field and plucked a single piece. He continued to play with it between his thick digits, brows narrowed as he reflected on his further answer. — He hired and gave me a roof over my head when I retired from service.

— You were a soldier too?

Johnny nodded with a simple “aye” and you smiled.

— What?

— Nothing. Didn’t think such a gentle gardener was once enlisted. 

— Yeah? Didn’t think a pretty lass like yourself would be so nosy. — He smacked the tip of your nose with the stalk he was holding. 

Your cheeks grew rosy and warm, when he paid you a compliment. Not that you were a prude! Actually far from that, but it was just that Johnny was so charming and he definitely knew how to sweet talk to a woman like you. 

— Not nosy, it’s considered rude — you explain to him, fidgeting with your fingers yet a smile is painted upon your face. — “Curious” I think suits me better. Those who spread gossip about others’ affairs and tragedies are the nosy ones. See, that’s the difference. 

Johnny stopped suddenly and took your hand into his palms. He held you gently, almost like you were made out of glass and he, with his admirable strength, could break you into pieces. What a great waste it would be to destroy such a pure soul. He leaned closer to your ear, warm breath tickling your sensitive skin and your heart almost jumped out of the ribcage. Should his closeness excite you so much? Should a grown woman be this rash?

— Only if we were seen by someone, here on the glade, alone. Scandalous — the man mocked such behaviours, while brushing a single strand of your hair behind the ear. — What would they think, hm? 

Before you took a step back, your gaze met his for a brief moment. There was a hint of curiosity and playfulness in his blue eyes. And perhaps something else, something much more obvious than you believed it was. 

Something that made men weak.

— Right, what would they say, Johnny? Who? — You asked him playfully, though your expression was full of sorrow. —  I barely see anyone around the house. I’m starting to believe those servants are some… ghouls living in the attic or they simply avert me so often. 

— Lord likes his peace, they work as if they weren’t there. Just as it needs to be. 

— It’s been some days now and I hadn’t met any of them. You’re the only person who actually talks to me. Don’t you get lonely there?

— Simon’s and your presence is enough for me. And well, it’s nice to talk to Mr. Garrick sometimes. 

— He talks to you? 

The cold breeze danced through your hair, causing you to shiver. Dry and brittle leaves crunched under your soles when the two of you continued to walk down the old pathway. 

— Autumn here is tough, lass, you should have worn a sweater. We should head back home, the nightfall is coming. 

You loathed the cold weather and how freezing the chambers got in the morning. Your first winter in England’s countryside might not be as pleasant as you thought it would be, with cold feet and no one in the manor to warm your spirit up. 

No peers, no guests, no neighbours. Just you, Johnny and Lord Riley.

You stood back in the middle of your quarter, looking at everything and anything at the same time. Each detail like a porcelain vase with flowers or lace tablecloth looked so neat, with no sign of dust it was almost impossible. Many questions were stacked inside of your head. 

Was your chamber cleaned every single day? If so, when did they do it? And why hadn't you even bumped into any of the servants of the manor? Yes, the building was large, but at some point you had to meet the staff, right? 

It has officially been two weeks since you moved to live and work here. Although using the word “work” was far-fetched. You hoped to become a governess to Lord Riley’s children, but that dream was quickly demolished as he had none. So then it was told that you were responsible for the house work, but there was no one to supervise as they were constantly hiding from you. So you were sitting there at the end of the day in a living room, chaperoning your Lord. This time without Johnny.

Fireplace was spitting long flames, popping ashes into the air. The interior was welcoming, when the wind behind the windows grew stronger. A storm was coming. 

— May I ask you a question, Sir? — You had put aside your embroidery set, before finally asking. The blonde man hummed, eyes still transfixed on the lecture he was reading. — How often do the maids come to my room?

— As often as needed. Why?

— I wanted to rearrange my quarters this morning, just to push the bed closer to the wall, but when I returned from the afternoon stroll, it was back in its primary place. 

— Then they fixed the furniture, didn’t they? 

You had a feeling that was not the case. You scratched the flooring during the first attempt, if the staff was to push the bed back to its origins, they would only do further damage. Yet, the wooden planks were brand as new. No signs of any scratches.

Were you hysterical? Was it all your vivid imagination?

— But it’s heavy, my Lord.

— And yet you managed to move it. So did they. 

Lord Riley was grumpy again, his voice hoarse and accent thick. 

You once again took the needle threaded with string into your fingers and returned to the unfinished piece, but the urge to continue pushing him was stronger. You might rather bite your tongue in the future. 

— Maybe I should talk with them and explain that I prefer it the other way. 

— I prefer when the rules of my household are followed. You wouldn’t have such an idea if you didn’t have so much free time.

Your hands dropped to your lap as you abruptly looked at him, slightly offended. And even though Lord tried to conceive this, you noticed how the edges of his lips twitched in a tiny smile. He was toying with you.

Simon was strict. Perhaps he never abandoned the military's rules and drills. He was an adamant man who valued his own comfort. That means, obeying his rules. 

— Come, I might have an idea how to keep you busy.

The Lord of the house rose from his seat. Each time you stood next to him, you were intimidated by his height and solid build. Despite being off duty, he kept his admirable physics of a Greek god. 

At least that is how the books you kept so dear to your heart described the brave warriors. 

You followed the master into his private library and patiently stood right behind him, when he was searching for a certain book. Finally he reached a thick tome in your direction – “A Mortal Immortal” by Mary Shelley. 

— Here, this may interest you — but when you stretched out to receive it, he moved the novel out of your reach. — Ah, ah. What do we say?

— Thank you. For borrowing me your book. 

— However, when I think about it, I’m worried this will only worsen your… troubled mind.

— My mind?

— Johnny told me you worry too much about some nonsense that should not be your priority in the first place. You’re letting this place and its solitude haunt you. Are you of a weak mind, girl? — You quickly understood what he was referring to, so to prove the point you denied the vile accusation. — So, I’d recommend you stop being childish and focus on your chores. Then everything will be alright, understood? 

— I’m not childish.

— Is that clear? — He repeated with much harsher tone.

You nodded slightly, barely visible, but enough to agree with the Lord.

— Now, go to your chamber, it’s getting late. 

His dark eyes carefully inspected your figure. You noticed him staring at your neckline for far too long than what was decent. His coarse hand swiped over yours when he was giving you the book. The cold metal of his signet felt like a thousand sharp stings. 

What kind of game was the Lord of Riley Manor playing with you? 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈

The simmering sound of something powerful cracking snatched you from the peaceful dream. Every muscle in your body tensed and you sat up, holding the duvets tight when a thunder enlightened the black sky. Your heart beated fast within its cage of bones and breath shattered, anticipating.

Surely, thunderstorms can happen in late autumn, but you had never predicted it to happen this night. You felt uneasy, when another loud rumble made you scared. Then there was the banging window frame, somewhere in the long hallway and those horrible, horrible whistles of wind. They sound almost like human cries. 

At first you ducked down beneath the covers to shield yourself from the haunting sounds, thinking that the servants would take care of the open window. But minutes passed and they didn’t. 

With a lit candle on a metal holder you walked down the corridor, the flame being the only source of light. 

So when the wind coming through the window blew it off, you gasped loudly in panic – you barely saw your own hands in front of you!

— No, no, no…

You almost screamed when someone placed their hand upon your shoulder and then your mouth. A familiar figure was illuminated by another lighting. You could never mistake those blue eyes for another. 

— Shh, bonnie. It’s me — Johnny whispered, slowly uncovering your mouth. — I heard the fuss. You alright? 

— Actually, no… Did you hear those sounds?

Your hands squeezed the candle holder, when the gardener rushed to close the open window. You shivered, only a thin layer of nightgown covering your skin. You looked behind, checking if you were alone in the hallway. It certainly felt like you weren’t. It had to be the ghouls. 

— What sounds? 

— Howling, distressed cries? Wails? I-I heard them in my chamber. 

— You’re scared of the storms?

— No, that’s not-

— It’s okay to get spooked sometimes — he cut you off and grabbed your hand, slowly leading you back where you came from. — Come, let’s get you to your room.

— Oh, don’t belittle me. — You frowned upon him, yet you doubt he had seen it. You clung to his strong arm like a scared girl, not eager to get lost in the darkness again. 

— That was not my intention. Was just trying to comfort you.

When you finally reached your room, you couldn’t find the strength to let go of his hand. You interlocked your smooth and delicate fingers with his digits.

— Please, Johnny, don’t go. I’m… scared. 

— Of thunder? — He chuckled, petting the palm of your hand. 

— No, this place. Something is not right, please, I–

— It’s okay, you got scared a little, that’s all. You really want me to stay? 

You shuddered when taking a deep breath, calculating every possible consequence of this decision.

This was not right. 

— Yes.

When he stepped inside of the room, a rush of excitement flooded your veins and sank on the bottom of your stomach. Perhaps it was foolish and considered promiscuous inviting a man into your bedroom, but your body and heart desired otherwise. 

Johnny’s presence brought you comfort that you were longing for, his touch ascended your worries to the void and filled the troubled mind with pleasure. Nothing else.

Without a word spoken the two of you moved to the narrow, still warm bed and climbed under the sheets. Johnny captured your head between his hands and pulled in a gentle kiss on the lips. In his performance he was eager, sloppy yet charming. One of his palms gripped your hip through the crumpled material, just as you hooked one of your thighs over his hip. 

Foolish, foolish girl. 

— You’re so pretty — he whispered through the thick air as he pressed his forehead to yours. The curve of his nose filled your bridge as you looked at him from under your lashes. — The moment I first saw you getting out of the coach, that day you arrived, I knew I couldn’t ever let you go, bonnie.

Johnny swiftly moved on top of your lying form, holding that one thigh open. He continued the passionate assault on your lips, carefully rolling the hem of your nightgown up. 

Your body was on fire, everything inside of you screamed this was wrong, but somehow, the sinner inside of you called for him. For his touch, for his affection and his sweet, sweet nectar. 

Only when he started caressing your mound and its slit did you acknowledge where his hand wandered. And although his skin was rather tough  from all the years of hard work, his touch was gentle and surprisingly precise. You gasped lovely. It didn’t take that much of a hassle for him to make you wet and eager down there.

— Oh, Johnny… 

His name rolled off your tongue like honey, a music to his ears. It wasn’t long enough before he was grinding over your thigh with his excited and leaking length. 

— You are what we needed. A little warm sunshine, eh? 

Did you hear “we”?

But before you could ask him, he began stretching your cunt a little bit too carelessly to your liking. All his prudence was gone, as he got drunk on your scent and how you felt around him. Your hand gripped his bicep and your glossy eyes went wide like a scared doe. 

— Johnny, Johnny, slow — you breathed out through muffled whine and the man atop of you stilled. — Slow, please.

He could feel how your heart pumped within your veins. 

— I’m sorry, bonnie. Let me kiss it better — the gardener leaned down to pepper your face with kisses. And when he got to the sweet spot on your neck, you giggled — shh, we don’t want to wake him, don’t we? 

Obviously he meant Lord Simon. 

He set a steady yet bearable rhythm as his hips rolled into you in waves. His chest was close to yours, brushing sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of a nightgown. You were pushed into the cushioned pillow, hair splayed beneath like roots of the ancient tree. 

You felt so lightheaded yet so good at the same time. Sparkling, increasing sensation tickling the nerves and blinding the vision. Johnny was all you could experience in that moment. He was the only thing you could smell, touch and taste, when he was trying to steal the air from your lungs. You fell into the abyss of pleasure quickly, all the latest worries fading away.

And the horribly loud storm? Didn’t matter at that moment. All thunders quietened down and the entire world could be burning in flames and ashes, but you wouldn’t even notice. 

The man moaned deeply from his throat, when he got closer to his peak, hips frantically snapping against yours. You barely managed to entangle your shaking fingers within his brown hair, right above the nape of the lover’s neck. With one more final thrust both of you indulged sweet, sweet pleasure.

Johnny stayed until the morning came, just as he promised. With an expression of pure ecstasy and lust, you snuggled into his chest. He wrapped a pair of arms around you and for the first time since the arrival you felt at peace sleeping in the manor. The candle remained snuffed out. 

In the morning of the following day, you went to the city with Mrs. Garrick to receive the remaining letters and a few other errands. You and the cook split to settle matters quickly. 

The post office was a small place with barely anyone inside but a friendly looking old lady behind the counter. 

— Good morning, I’d like to receive the mail for Lord Riley.

You put on a polite smile, walking closer to the counter and removing the bonnet from your head.

— So you are the new housekeeper, I’ve heard about you. It’s been a while since someone got his letters, guess he still ain’t leaving the house?

— No, ma’am. Lord is rather… — you paused, searching for the right description of your employer — a private person. 

— Always had been, even before he went to war. But oh, that was years ago, I hope he softened at least a little. Such a sad and grumpy boy he was. 

There was something in the way she phrased it that made your body still. Blood got so heated up anyone that touched you could feel it on the outside. Did she mean the previous Lord, father of Simon Riley? But that couldn’t be the case, this title was newly found when he returned from the war. So what was this all about? 

— Forgive me, you said “years ago”? How long ago was it? You see, I’m not from here and the Lord doesn’t share much about himself.

— Of course he does not and do not expect otherwise — she waved with her wrinkled finger, before reaching for the bile of letters from the shelf behind her. — It was around twenty five years ago, Lord Riley was the same age as my son when he joined the Queen’s army.

— I see. 

You were confused, extremely confused. The blonde Lord with scarred face did not look a year past his thirties, how could this be that he enlisted quarter of century ago? At that moment you felt so horrified by this anomaly. 

Through the rest of the day and the day that followed, the old maiden aunt’s words echoed inside of your head:

— I am surprised anyone actually was willing to take that job. Lord Riley is a… forgive me for speaking so freely, but he’s a strange man who abandoned the word of God years ago. Why do you think he got pushed away from the post earlier? 

He was…? 

You didn’t look the same into the depths of the windows of the Manor, nor did you stare at the dark corner of the hall. Every sound of wood creaking sent shivers down your spine. They were coming. 

Oh God, have you gone mad?  

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

You stirred the porridge over and over again, watching as the gooey mush slipped from the spoon down to its den. Despite the tremendous amount of honey you added it still tasted rather bitter this morning. 

— Did you finish?

— Excuse me?

You tightened the hold over the silver spoon when Lord’s hoarse voice brought you back to the eerie reality. 

— The book. I asked if you finished the book? — Blonde man raised his thick brow in question, curiously looking at you from his own plate. 

— Oh, yes, yes. I enjoyed it, however I found Winzy’s life quite miserable to be honest. And tragic.

— Why so? 

— Well, he lost the woman he loved so dearly and then had to continue living eternally without her. Imagine how lonely his life had to be, when he must have outlived every single friend he had made. 

��� If he was so miserable as you say, then why wouldn’t he just end his suffering and join the woman he claimed to love? Maybe he didn’t really care after all. — Simon leaned back in his chair, exhaling loudly. — I sometimes wonder what his life would look like if he had given the potion to Bertha. A pair of immortals walking this earth, would they become some sort of Gods?

— Doesn’t the thought of living so long… make you feel… I don’t know, unease , my Lord?

— No. I’ve seen worse things than an old man. Those who fear death might go to extremes just to avoid their end.  

— We were not made to live forever, don’t we? We should not play God.

— There is no God, sweet girl. Only sinners and fools. Those who play and those who lose. Are you a loser?

— No, Sir. 

His dark eyes glowed in a mysterious manner as the silence fell between you two. The man was bright and had seen right through you. 

— Good. If we speak of the matter of sinners, I’d like to make one thing clear.

The Lord stood up from his seat, putting the white napkin on the table. His figure loomed closer toward his housekeeper and finally leaned on one of his hands over you. You could feel his breath on your neck, his closeness made you shiver. 

— You’ve been living under my roof and by now you should know I despite disobedience and liars. 

— I am no liar, Sir. 

— Perhaps not, but you hide things from me. Captain Price spoke of you in high regard - a well behaved woman from a respected family, yet you’ve proven yourself to be rather promiscuous. You even ensnared poor Johnny, didn’t you? 

That… was straight forward. 

— I did no such thing!

Suddenly he wrapped one of his strong hands over the nape of your neck, causing you to tense and lean away from his touch. The man began drawing circles over your skin with his thumb, almost like he tried to soothe your shattered nerves. You gasped at the sudden force he had put you in place.

— Watch yourself and think twice about answering again. 

— It was mutual.

— Mutual? — He repeated mockingly. — Johnny boy would fuck anything that moves in ten miles radius. And it just happened to be you. 

— How dare you speak like this? — You turned your head to look him in the face. When you did, you saw the insolent smirk painted over his pale face. — He is at least decent towards me, he’s kind and caring. We did nothing wrong. Why do you care?

Simon leaned down right next to your face. He continued to stare you down, his brows narrowed in deep disappointment. 

— You’ve built a wall between us, sweet girl. Yeah, you did. If there was something you ever needed, you should have come directly to me, your Lord. And I can assure you, Johnny did not give what you craved and desired. 

Inconveniently your face changed its colour to vivid blush, when he suggested such things. Your stomach felt like one, big knot twisting its way to get stuck in your oesophagus. Was that it? Was this how he perceived you? Was he jealous of the fling between you and Johnny or was he simply cruel?

Lord Riley let go of your pretty neck and caressed your cheek with the knuckles of his fingers. Just like one would touch a lover and another – a pet. 

— You’re frightened. Are you scared of me, is that it? Be obedient and you won’t have to be. Or do you really want to be punished so badly?

You quickly denied by shaking your head to the sides to which he only hummed. His weight shifted behind your back and a trail of footsteps could be heard as the Lord of the house left the dining room.

A moment passed before you caught yourself staring at the bowl of now cold porridge, slowly digesting the conversation you just held with him, your Master. 

The burden upon your poor, poor mind has overwhelmed you and the realisation of a potential madness weighed heavily upon you. Nothing made sense. Not a single logical explanation has come to light to soothe your fears. 

After those couple of weeks the staff and maids stayed in the shadows, Lord’s age did not match the tales of his youth and those horrible sounds you continued to hear at night? Ugh, they kept you awake, causing dark bags to show under your pretty eyes. 

The manor itself seemed to have poisoned you. Was that it? The reason? You knew you had to leave the house as soon as possible. You had to…

Oh God, what have you gotten yourself into? 

That night was no different to those before it. Wind blowing through the crack in the window’s frame, wheezing and whistling. Your bedsheets are exceptionally cold this time, causing you to shiver and tremble. The candle is still burning, a metal holder standing on the table. 

When you finally manage to curl up under the sheets and doze away slightly, you hear this agonising, scary wails. 

Wait. No. 

Those are no wails.

I-Is someone moaning?

You raised up to a sitting position in a half asleep state. Loose strands of hair stick to the forehead as you continue to listen for more sounds. 

Those seem to be almost human-like. Maybe they are? 

You throw the sheets to the side and crawl out of the bed. You’re frustrated and moody, close to tears from the exhaustion of not being able to sleep. Before you left your chamber, you grabbed that damn candle light and took a deep breath. 

Your bare feet left no traces behind as you walked down the dark hallway. The heart in your chest was about to burst, obviously you were still scared of the dark and what possibly lurks within it. The hem of your nightgown sweeped the wooden flooring that cracked underneath your weight. 

Then, you heard those moans again, louder. You were getting closer. Following the awful sounds you finally get to its source. You knew where your feet happened to take you to and that you shouldn’t have dared to enter this chamber. Nonetheless, you did. The shroud of mystery had to be torn. 

You slowly creeped towards the half-opened, heavy doors and sneaked inside where the darkness swallowed almost everything. Single candles had been lit across the room, creating an ascended ambience. You should have turned around and left, you understood that perfectly well. However, you wanted answers to all the secrets of the manor and its habitants. 

Behind the wooden screen there was a large bed and two figures sitting on its edge. Gardener who was completely bare and whining into Lord’s shoulder, drool leaving the corner of his mouth. Thighs spread open and eyes closed tight. And there he was – Lord Simon dressed in trousers and loose, white chemise. His big hand was tightly wrapped around Johnny’s angry cock, pulling and twisting the sensitive skin. They seemed to be enjoying themselves as Johnny whined pitifully again at the sensation. 

At least now you finally knew what those sounds were exactly – that stormy night Johnny came to you, were they also together? You couldn’t move and kept standing close to the screen, eyes transfixed at the scene you witnessed. So many emotions washed over you – were you embarrassed, scared or even jealous? The dots and the facts slowly began connecting. You had to make haste and leave this room. This house. You knew you had to get away tonight, before things would escalate. Oh God, you couldn’t properly breathe, your face and lungs felt like they were on fire!

— Looks like we have company — the coarse voice of a blonde man made your skin cover in goosebumps. He stared directly at you. — Want to join us? 

Unknowingly you made a muffled whine of embarrassment as you swiftly turned around and started to walk away in a hurry. As if you were in some kind of trance, your body going automatically. You rolled up the long hem of your nightgown not to stumble upon it as you found yourself on the corridor again. 

Christ! You forgot to take the candle with you! 

The breathing became difficult as you had to navigate somehow in the complete darkness. A part of your heart felt betrayed by the erotic scenery you just witnessed, although you couldn’t completely understand why. You and Johnny were a one time thing, why would you feel sorry for him bedding someone else? 

Probably because this “someone else” was your mutual employer.

There were heavy footsteps behind you, they were getting closer and closer. He was right behind the nosy intruder. You tried to fasten your pace, blindly going forward, hoping to find a staircase. Then it would lead you downstairs and outside of the building. But before you even made it halfway to the stairs, you bumped into a slim table standing by the wall. The vase standing on it fell and broke as the painful impact of the table's corner digging into your abdomen sent you to the ground. 

When it was clear you were within his grasp, you tried to crawl further away from him, trying to escape somehow. But Simon was faster and he collected you from the floor. 

— Come, before you’re gonna hurt yourself. — Lord Riley said as he managed to lift up and throw you over his broad shoulder with little effort.

You tried to break free by kicking like a goat and punching him with your curled fist. But how could the strength of a city girl ever compare to the former soldier’s? You groaned, you kicked and you cursed. Nothing could have prepared you for the harsh slap that Simon planted on your bottom. It stung, causing you to go still over his shoulder. And when he spanked you again you bit your lower lip, trying to confide any pathetic whines. 

— Should have whipped you long ago. Maybe it would teach you some respect. 

— I didn't mean to interrupt, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, my Lord!

— Oh, you happened to join us just in time. 

Lord Riley took you back to his bedroom and tossed you down onto his remarkably large bed. This time, he locked the doors from the inside and removed the key from the lock. You were stuck there with them. You managed to back up a little, before Johnny reached you. He sat at your side and carefully extended his hand towards your petrified face, a curtain of hair covering your pretty features.

— It’s alright, bonnie. Calm down. 

— I don’t want to be a part of this. — You stated, kneeling on the bed sheets splayed beneath. Simon stood tall with his hands crossed in front of you and the gardener. Johnny gently began to caress your back in a soothing manner. 

You were caught red handed, busted the only chance to run away and now you were more than positive he would never let you go. You tried to conceal the fears and shame, because now was the time to uncover the truth. 

— What is this? — You asked with a shaking voice, eyes transfixed on the two figures of men, going from the blonde to the brunette. — What’s going on? Please, let’s forget about this. I’ll go back to bed. I–I…

— You already are in one — Lord took a step forward and caught your jaw. He yanked your head up, forcing you to look at him. — Have you finally figured it out? I directly gave you clues. Come on, you’re a smart one. Put the pieces together. 

How could you come up with a logical conclusion? Everything you gathered through the weeks could be interpreted as a mad woman’s nonsense. But you weren’t ill, you were aware of the games going around you.

— You’re much older than you look, that’s what I know. And that you’ve done horrifying, unforgivable things during your service. Lord– Simon — you corrected yourself — what have you done? 

— Think. Harder. 

His patience was running thin. Simon spoke through his bared teeth. 

— Oh, God. Are you a part of this? — You looked at Johnny, before the blonde man caught your throat and lifted you on your feet again. 

— Don’t be harsh on her! She doesn’t know better. She needs to learn. — The Scotsman said to your defence, narrowing his thick brows and scrambling the bridge of his nose. All this time he was sitting comfortably on the bed, absolutely not bothered with his nakedness.  

— There is no God here, sweet girl, I already told you. Only me, Johnny and well, you. I’ve been kind enough to share a piece of me with you and that’s how you repay your Lord? In such childish, pathetic disobedience? Fucking nosy, aren’t we? Or just eager? 

The tall, bulky man reached with his other hand and forcefully cupped your crotch through the thin material of the nightgown, causing you to wriggle in his hold. He prodded against your slit with his finger, toying with you, testing the limits and your responses. And you were very responsive. 

In that moment you thought about the choice of literature Simon had given you. The main plotline revolved around immortality and its consequences, which would somehow explain… some things. Yet what about God? Why did Simon detest him so much?

— God turns his back on people like me and once you sin for us, he will turn on you too — he mockingly snorted, before continuing your torment. — If he didn’t already. 

You tried to tear from his hold, shaking yourself and pushing his chest away. Lord Riley stood like a mountain, not moving an inch. In a quick movement he twirled you around and took a firm hold of the nightgown material at your back. Then you heard how loudly the stitches broke and the teared material slowly fell to the ground, exposing your much alive and young flesh.

Before you realised you were completely bare and managed to cover yourself somehow, Simon grabbed your arms behind your back so you couldn’t move further. 

— I think he sent you to us as a gift — the man leaned against your shoulder, whispering into your ear. — Yeah, that’s what you are – a sweet, innocent present. Isn’t she cute, Johnny? 

Brunette finally stood up from the bed and gently caressed your hip. He was standing so close, you could feel his pulsating cock and its leaking tip on your supple thigh.

— Aye, she is lovely. 

— Have you tasted her, boy? That night you sneaked under her covers? — To which the dark haired one denied. — Well, I think you should compensate the little lady, no? Help her calm down, you know how women can get… hysterical. 

— W-Wait, wait, no, n-no… 

Simon sat down on the edge of the bed and placed you between his massive legs. One of his hands wrapped around your fragile, swan like neck and the other cupped your left breast. Meanwhile, Johnny got down onto his knees and moved closer to the two of you and before he dived between your thighs he looked into the dark irises of his Lord. Not yours. 

— He eats like I starve him beforehand. You’re gonna find out, lovely. 

You tried to squeeze your legs shut, but the gardener kept them spread wide so he could lean closer to your cunt. And when you tried anything like moving or wriggling away, Simon would pull or twist one of your nipples causing you to yelp. 

— She’s really pretty — the Scot said, parting your lower lips apart. The shame washed over you, causing your head to turn into Simon’s shoulder. — Never could have pulled such one while in the army. 

Then he flatten his tongue over your most sensitive parts and started dragging it along the slit. You entangled one of your hands within his brown strands of hair, on top of his head pulling slightly. When his lips sucked at your clit you finally moaned, releasing some tension and anger within you.

— Bird’s already singing.

Simon purred into your ear, nuzzling his eyebrow ridge into your head. The feelings and sensations you were experiencing overflowed your system. The man you trusted as your lover was assaulting your cunt with his mouth and the Lord you were supposed to work for was enjoying the show. You pressed your eyes shut, trying not to cry. But you finally broke and the salty streams began to run down your rosy cheeks. 

— You think she deserves to cum, Johnny? — To which the kneeling men nodded vigorously. — Use your words, stupid mutt. 

— Please, Si, let her. Look how stressed she is. Poor thing, she might need a few more.

— A few- Ah! M-More?! — You squealed again, when someone rolled your nipples between their fingers. 

When your peak neared, you tried to turn your head away and hide. You didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing your face in pure bliss. Simon held your head against his sternum, pressing your forehead backwards. 

You felt like you were on fire, orange flames licking your fingers, your breasts, your inner thighs. 

— That’s it, good girl. 

And when the knot finally bursted, a wave of painful, white pleasure washed over you. The orgasm was so strong, it blinded your senses for a short moment in which the men flipped you around the bed. 

Johnny was supporting your shoulders and your head, while Lord was stirring in front of you. He threw your legs over his thighs and scooped closer to your still wet with saliva crotch. And not only with that…

The new wave of panic overwhelmed you when Simon began to undo his trousers. He was taller and bigger than the gardener in every aspect, you were scared. Taking two lovers, without marital vows? Does this make you a whore? But you didn’t want this!

— No, no, no… — You weeped sadly, trying to crawl away, before Johnny began to caress your head. His grip was tight and successfully held you in place. 

— After tonight, we’ll be joined as one, bonnie. Just us, here in this house, forever. 

— But I-I don’t want this, Johnny! Please, let me go. Let me go.

You repeated as Simon pulled you by the hips closer to him. His now exposed, thick cock stiffened over your soft abdomen, leaking some precum. 

— Shh, Simon knows what’s best for us. He knows. 

When the tip of his length caved his way inside of your warm, silky walls, he was at least decent enough to take it slow. If you felt full during that first night spent with Johnny, this time it seemed even fuller. With his flesh, Simon filled you to the brim, still not even moving. The man saw your struggle to relax, so he leaned down and sucked the thin and delicate skin below your jaw. 

Meanwhile Johnny brushed your hair backwards and with the other hand he caressed your ribs. Somehow they knew how to press each individual button to make you docile enough. 

They learned how to tame you. 

Only then, Simon began to move his hips, thrusting slowly and continuously fastening the pace. His movements made you sway along Johnny’s knees. Your breasts bounced within the rhythm and your eyes searched for them through the half absent haze. 

You got lost in the moment, every breath merged with another. Hands roaming over your body, whose owners you couldn’t really assign, the burning stretch in your cunt that began to lube itself to ease the friction. 

The pleasure that crushed over your sensible thinking, put you in an almost ascended state. You were still sobbing, when Simon fastened his pace and his cock penetrated you deeper, kissing your cervix. You were still trembling, when the two men started making out above you. Their lips crushed in a vulgar exposition of their affection.

— Can’t you see that you’re lost without us, lovely? — The Lord’s voice shaken as he was getting closer to his climax. He leaned down and kissed you, almost stealing your breath away. 

— Wouldn’t last without us, would you, lass? 

They continuously somewhat mocked you and each time after they did, they cooed at you or leaned down to “kiss it better”. By the time Simon finished inside of you, groaning loudly, he spilled the warm seed inside your walls to, as Lord claim, “make you theirs”. 

— Don’t worry, we got you now. We’re gonna take care of you. Just let us… get familiar first. — Johnny said calmly, when the blonde was massaging your tense things. You knew they weren’t yet sated. 

That night you happened to lay over one of Simon’s bulky arms like a pillow. He caged your body from behind, his chest pressing tightly against your spine and Johnny laid on his side in front of you. Through a half awakened state you managed to look through the window that faced the treeline. An edge of forest shrouded in thick, morning mist. 

Tonight you finally were able to put the pieces together. However it was too late anyways.

The house seemed to be stuck in time and space, so were its residents. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. Every aspect of the building stays the same, untouched and reclusive for many years to come. 

You finally let the heavy eyelids close. The sun was rising.

Obviously very inspired by Ghost's music and Crimson Peak, here is Spotify playlist ⟶ 𝕏

[caramelcleopatraa]

CAUGHT IN 4K

word count: 3.3k

x: finals are coming up, so i'm gonna be very busy, but i'm still writing y'all (this is the most consistent i've been lol) (excuse any errors of course) Hope you guys enjoyyy! leave comments... please. I love your comments.

content: Imani has a crush on Roman. Their friend group goes on live and her secret comes to the light. She thought that she was going to be rejected and move on, but things never go the way people expect. Roman Reigns x Imani, 18+ MDNI, oral (m recieving), cowg!rl, creamp!e

Imani loved weekend kickbacks. Time to chillax with her favorite people, and get her mind off of things. It was moments like these she waited for. Drinks and joints in rotation, and endless fun for hours to come. Jimmy, Jey, Roman, Trinity Talia, and Imani. She wishes that she was only thinking about the good vibes that circulated in the atmosphere, but she was focused on something else. It wasn’t like she was necessarily trying to focus on Roman, but it was inevitable when she could see him so clearly from the kitchen. She knew that having a crush on him could possibly mess up the bond that the group has, but he was so gravitating, He was perfect in her eyes. She basically textbook described him when Trinity and Talia asked her to describe her dream man: Tall, muscular, sweet, absurdly attractive, charismatic, humorous, dedicated. God, she could go on to name every single one of his attributes that she loved. She tried to brush it off as a mistake at first, but there was no part about this that was a mistake. He had a tight grip on her, and he wasn't even aware. She wonders what would happen if he felt the same way. If those pretty brown eyes she daydreamed about would reciprocate the love she was anxiously waiting to give him. She could only imagine all of the things she could do for him, to him, and provide him. If she had him all to herself, how they would spend their nights alone. How it would feel to be wrapped in his embrace. How it would feel to get lost in him between the sheets for hours, and repeat it again the next day. If she had him all to herself.

“WE GETTIN TURNT!” Talia raised her glass in the air and yelled out to her viewers, watching her through the small rectangular frame. Jimmy came around the corner with uno cards in his hands as the six of us gathered around the table. Roman, Trinity, or Jey would pop into the frame to answer a couple of questions while Jimmy shuffles the cards and Imani gathers multiple bottles to bring to the table. “Mani! They have some questions for you!” Imani joins her party, sitting the bottles on the table and scanning through the comments.

‘Do you get to go backstage with the bloodline?’

“Yes! It's amazing, I'm not gonna lie.”

‘Please do a makeup tutorial!’

“Maybe, I don't have a youtube channel.”

‘Seen any guys that have caught your eye?’

“A couple, but they ain’t nothin’ important.”

“Oh word?” Talia and Trinity both look at her with curious faces, but Imani just giggles and goes back to answering questions. 

“Ooh this is a good one. Kiss, marry, fuck: Jason Momoa, Michael B. Jordan, and Roman Reigns,” Talia reads out loud. That question got everyone’s attention. Jimmy stopped fidgeting with the cards and Roman and Jey both put their phones down impatient for her answer. “Well?” Talia was definitely setting her up, and she could feel it. Thank god for her brown skin that covered her fastly spreading blush. “Do I have to answer this?” “Yes, you do. I'm intrigued now,” Trinity says, as Imani quickly takes a double take at the entire table to see them all staring at her. She sighs before surrendering and thinking hard about the question.

“I’ll… kiss… Michael B. Jordan, fuck Jason Momoa, and marry Roman Reigns.” She instantly regretted answering the question before Trinity pried at Imani to get out more information that everyone was itching to know. “Hmm, why marry Roman?” She quickly swiped her drink off of the table and took a long sip, hiding her face. In all honesty, she wanted to say that it was the easiest choice, but that would only make her sound suspicious. And that was not a conversation that she wanted to have in front of quite literally everyone. “I'm not interested in the other guys like that.” “So you’re interested in Roman?” ‘Wait- wait! Noo that's not what I meant!’

“No, I just wouldn't marry the other two men. It’s not that deep Trin,” Imani says, a failed attempt at dismissing the conversation. “You’ve never gotten this defensive before… don’t tell me that you in your feelings.” She could see Talia smirking at the corner of her eyes. She knew she had to stop this fast. “You’re reaching Talia,” Imani says, laughing to herself. “Oooooh Imani wants the Tribal Chief, huh?” Never in her life had she ever been more embarrassed. “Jimmy, for the love of god, please start dealing the cards,” Imani says, covering her face, her words muffled by her hands. Everyone laughs, finding amusement in her nervousness. She anxiously waited for Jimmy to start dealing the cards so this moment could pass.

11:27 pm

Several rounds of uno and spades passed, and the guests were slowly starting to make their way out. She noticed Talia, Trinity, Jey, and Jimmy momentarily texting throughout the night, which would probably explain why the four of them were explaining the consequence of Imani losing a couple of rounds. “Sooooo we thought of something. Don’t be mad! It’s just a punishment for losing so much,” Talia says, sticking out her tongue. “Your punishment is that you have to ask Roman to fuck you.” ‘ASK ROMAN TO WHATT!?!?’

Her surprised face told them everything they needed to know. “You'll be fine. Uce will probably be down to fuck either way,” Jey says. Imani gave Talia a death glare, making Talia laugh. “You’re trippin’ girl. Just approach him with the right energy and make him want to stay with you. I guess this answers the question of if you have a crush on him or not.” Before she could defend herself, Roman walks in from the restroom and the four of them are gone in the blink of an eye. ‘These trifling’ heifers’

“Guess they all left. I should be on my way out then. Thank you for the food and dr-” She steps in front of him, stopping him from exiting out the front door. He looks at her with confusion. “You okay?” Her heart was beating fast. She didn't fully think out what she was going to do after she stepped in front of him, but it was now or never. 

“Fuck me.”

“...what?”

“F-fuck me.” She couldn't look him in the eye the second time. The pressure weighing on her shoulders was too much. But the thing that was racking her brain the most was how close they were. She felt like this was a disaster taking place in real time. She hears a soft chuckle, looking up to see him lightly smiling at her. “Was this your punishment for losing?” She nods, and his smile stays fixed on his face. “Do you want me to?” 

‘...did he say what I think he just said?’

Her mind is searching for an answer, a reason to say no. But she can't find any. As embarrassing and confusing this was, she had daydreamed about this moment. Maybe he was just being nice and would give her a quick fuck to fulfill the punishment. That idea became her leading thought. “You don’t have to if you’re uncomf-” “Do you want me to fuck you Imani?”

‘Shit he’s not joking.’

She slowly nods, which prompts him to lock the front door behind you. Her head was spinning, trying her hardest to maintain her composure. “Ask me again.”

“Fuck me, please,” She says nervously, eyes returning her shiny tile floors. “I don’t believe you sweetheart. Ask me again.” His hand gently grabs at her chin, making Imani look at him. Once they made eye contact, she knew that she was done for. She was already feeling weak from just looking at him. She took a deep breath before finally saying, “Please fuck me Roman.”

He wasted no time pulling her into a heated kiss. Not that she minded. This felt like a wonderful dream that she didn't want to wake up from. Only this wasn't a dream, it was real life. She finally got to feel the body that she had been drooling over. Right now, he was hers, and she was going to make the most of it. 

Her curious hands creeped along his captivating body while they explored each other’s mouths, dragging her hands up his torso from underneath his shirt. He pulled away from her soft lips to trail wet kisses from her cheek to her neck. “Not shy anymore huh?” She couldn't be shy. Her desire for him had completely taken over. “I really need you right now Roman,” She pants out. 

“Bedroom?” She nods and takes his hand in hers, leading the way to her bedroom. The sway of her hips only made Roman more aroused, as he silently admired her body from behind.

They enter her bedroom and she doesn't get a chance to close the door before being pulled into his arms again, temporarily hoisting her in the air to lay her on the spacious bed. He pulls her into another messy kiss, setting his focus on getting rid of their bothersome clothes. He quickly tore his shirt from his body and she did the same with hers. Their lips connected again, moving in harmony. He started to make his way down her body, but she squeezed his shoulders, signaling him to stop. “I wanna make you feel good first.” Roman was surprised to say the least. He kissed her tummy and replied, “Are you sure?” She gives him a confident nod, with those big doe eyes and her beautiful smile. “Alright, what do you want me to do?” “Let’s switch places.”

She scooted to the side, giving him room to lay down on the bed. She crawled down to his waist, tugging both his sweatpants and boxers down. His dick springs out of his pants, finally free from cloth restraints. Her eyes locked with his before lowering down to lick the underside of him; from his balls to his mushroom tip. A wad of spit drips from her mouth and lands on his length, using her hand to lather him up. His soft hums let her know that he was feeling good, and she was determined to make him feel a whole lot better. 

Her juicy lips start at his tip, giving small kitten licks before taking the tip in her mouth. Her warm mouth felt so good on his dick. He didn't know that Imani was this nasty. She gives him kisses up and down his shaft before taking him in her mouth again. 

She didn’t waste any time trying to tease him. He was big, and filled mer mouth well, but it’s nothing she's never handled before. Before she continued, the warmth of her mouth left him once again. “Can you record this?” Just when he thought she couldn't get more nasty. 

“Record?” She nodded her head. “Only if you’re comfortable.” “I’m more than comfortable,” Roman says, while reaching into his sweatpants pocket. He grabs his phone and opens the camera app, pressing record. “It’s recording, baby.” 

She smiles at the camera, curling her fingers around the base of his dick and tapping him against her tongue. She takes him in her mouth again for the final time, keeping her hand put at the base. She bobs her head slowly, swiveling her head from left to right. 

She keeps moving slowly, making sure to fit all she can in her mouth. Her hand that stayed curled around his base, moved in juxtaposition, stroking the rest of him that her mouth couldn't get to. “Goddamn baby, that mouth feels so good. I need that mouth around my dick all the time.” She moans in response, giving him vibrations that made him feel oh so good. She had him moaning and groaning. She didn't mind that at all. She got a big ego boost that he was so vocal from her mouth working its magic. She took note of every moan, every twitch, and any reaction he made. Right now, she was focused on his pleasure. 

His grip on his phone tightened, trying his best to keep his composure. She moved her head faster, still bobbing up and down, and using her hand to stroke his remaining inches. “Ahh s-shit mama, you keep sucking my dick like that and imma cum in your mouth.” She looks at him, already staring at her every move while she’s giving him euphoria like pleasure. She moans around his dick again, feeling her panties dampen. Her other hand massaged his balls lightly. Her slurping sounds made him close to coming. 

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. Those innocent eyes staring into him as he recorded her doing such lewd things. He tried his best not to tangle his hands in her hair and fuck her mouth full of him. But her mouth felt so good, and he wanted nothing more than to cum in her mouth. He couldn’t help himself when his hands disappeared into her hair, planting his feet on the bed and fucking up into her mouth. She put her hands behind her back, letting him use her as he pleased. His thrusts were quick, but soft, his balls slapping against her chin. “Oh fuck! I’m coming mama, ooh I'm comin’.” He kept her head steady while coming deep in her throat, and she accepted with jubilation. 

She bobbed her head a few more times, trying her best to overstimulate him the most she can, until his hand grabs her chin, lifting her up. “Slow down princess,” He says, ending the recording. She crawls up to meet him, giving him a quick passionate kiss. “See how good you taste?” Roman chuckles at her boldness. “Your turn. Lie down,” He says, trying to sit up, but fails due to her pushing him back down on the bed. “I need that dick right now daddy.”

“You don’t want me to eat that pussy?” She runs her hand through her messy hair. “God yes I do, but I need you to fuck me right now.” Her eyes did more pleading than her words. 

“I wanna record this too,” she says, looking down at his chest, tracing the intricate tattoo. He feels around the bed, finally grabbing the phone and reopening the camera app. “Can you prop it up somewhere? I want you to be able to touch me.” “Already on it baby.” He climbed back further on your bed, propping the phone up against the lamp on the nightstand. While he did that, she slid off her shorts and panties, throwing them behind her. He pressed record again, and instructed her to adjust herself so the camera could capture everything. 

His hands landed on her ass as they both observed themself. His hands felt so good kneading her ass, and she saw his eyes drinking in every part of her body. He couldn't keep his hands off of her curvaceous body, and he didn't want to. “You like it?” Her soft hands massaged his shoulders, making him groan softly. “I love it baby, love this ass.” An unexpected slap to her ass made her jump. “You sound so good, daddy.” His hands move her hips along his dick, grinding her body against his. 

“How long have you been thinking about this?” She shies away from his gaze, a sudden flash of embarrassment runs through her body. She had forgotten about all of her feelings of distress and nervousness and realized that she was running on arousal and adrenaline. “A-a couple of months.” He lifts her hips and grabs his length, rubbing the tip along her slit. A few rubs up and down her slickness before impaling her on his dick. They moan simultaneously, relishing in the mind numbing pleasure. “You been thinking about taking this dick baby?” She gives him small head nods, still captured by the feeling of him inside of her. His hands cupped her chin, turning her head to the direction of the phone, steadily recording them. His hands were full of her ass, moving her up and down his shaft slowly. His unsteady breaths and her elongated moans were harmonious. “Go ‘head then. Bounce that ass on my dick.”

Her eyes focused on him as she steadied herself, her hands placed on either side of his head. She throws her ass back, his thighs catching it every time. His eyes were still glued to the phone, watching her beautiful body on top of him. But it wouldn’t be long until he faced her again, her soft titties hanging in front of his face. She had daydreamed about fucking Roman, and she was finally doing it. It gave her confidence knowing that he couldn't keep his hands off of her body. Her facial expression told her exactly how she was feeling. It was almost overwhelming how sexy she was. Beautiful smile, sexy body, paired with addicting moans that made him want to fuck her all night long. 

“Mmm~ look at you taking daddy’s dick. You’re doing so good,” Roman pants, grabbing at her breasts. His gentle praises and gruff voice was enough to make her cum. His dominating presence, his words, his touch. This man had her mind running laps. Even though he wasn’t putting in any effort, he was hitting all the right spots.

Her words were slurred, eyes rolled back, mouth wide open spewing salacious moans. Her hips slowed down, the constant rhythm created by her ass and his thighs meeting no longer lasted while she hid in the crook of his neck. Her body was decorated with a sheet of sweat that didn’t take away from her golden hue. “Look at me.” She rested on her elbows, locking her eyes onto his. Their faces were laced with lust, an unsatisfied want for each other. 

His strong arms caged her in, preventing her from squirming or escaping. She was still catching her breath while Roman planted his feet on the bed again. He places a tender kiss on her cheek before fucking up into her. She grabbed on to any part of his body that could, her eyes fluttering shut. A harsh slap to her ass makes her scream in pleasure. “I said look at me,” Roman says, demanding her full attention.

“Ohhh- my god! You feel so fucking g-good!” Roman loved watching her unravel. How she screamed for glory while he fucked her. God, he could make this his favorite hobby. Making her cum over and over again. “Mhm- fuckk- keep talking to me baby.” Her mind was foggy. She could only focus on one thing right now, how good he was dicking her down. Roman was making her feel so good. She looked at his phone propped up on the nightstand again to see their reflection. Her ass rippled from his hard strokes. That sight alone had her ready to cum. “Shhit! I’m finna cum on that big ass dick!” “Yeah? You finna cum?”

Her nails dug into his broad shoulders, feeling a knot build up in her stomach. “Cum with me Imani, let me feel you cum around my dick.”

Her eyes shut as she came, her orgasm hitting like a dam breaking, sending waves of pleasure throughout her body. His hips slowed down, but still gave her deep strokes, coming deep inside her. High pitched moans and deep grunts filled the room. His hands lazily grab her hips, allowing her to move again. She reached to grab the phone and ended the video, dropping the phone somewhere as she laid limp against his chest. His thumbs worked small circles as they both caught their breath. “I’m gonna take a shower when I get up, wanna join me?” Imani hears him chuckle, still working small circles into her hips. “Nah, we’re not done. I gotta eat that pussy, Imani.”

If these were the punishments she got for losing in spades, maybe losing wasn't so bad after all.

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Staking a claim

Summary: Shen Qingqiu and the terrible plague of everybody flirting with his husband.

Shen Qingqiu had long become used to people gravitating towards Luo Binghe - of course, he was the protagonist, after all, and his exceedingly good looks, incredible martial and cultivation prowess as well as his imposing presence attracted attention and admiration in equal parts as they did envy and contempt.

It had been a main feature of Proud Immortal Demon Way for women to fall hopelessly and devotedly in love with him from as little as a brief glance their way, after which they were ready to offer themselves up for him in the most perverted ways Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky could conceive - however, though Shen Qingqiu's alternate version of Binghe was not attracted to women anymore, it seemed that many still flushed red in his presence and even attempted to flirt with him regardless.

This was not a problem for Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe had openly and frequently declared that he would sooner throw himself into the Abyss again a thousand times over than cheat on his beloved Shizun, and they both knew those were not just empty words. Man or woman, none would tempt him, because Binghe's heart belonged only to his husband - a confession that had Shen Qingqiu turn so red that he felt like he would catch on fire!

But regardless of how many times Luo Binghe turned down the flirtatious women and told them in no uncertain terms that he was happily married and decidedly unwilling to part from his beloved unless death itself took him away, not all seemed to be willing to accept it. It was pitiful, and Shen Qingqiu did not feel jealous as much as he felt sorry for them.

The situation was slightly different when it came to men, however. Since, apparently, Binghe had somehow turned gay in this strange alternative universe of Shen Qingqiu's making, it was often that men fell victim to Binghe's unintentional charm and enticing protagonist halo even more than women did - and it gave quite the number of them the courage to try to pursue him.

Whereas Shen Qingqiu was perfectly and securely trusting of Luo Binghe, seeing all of these men flirt with him every occasion they could irked him greatly. Sure, though Luo Binghe had always refused every single offer - sometimes politely, other times coldly and every now and again, violently - the constant batting of eyelashes and veiled innunendos were starting to test Shen Qingqiu's patience.

Back in the modern world, Shen Yuan hadn't been a jealous or possessive person in the least - he had lived by the motto that one should not hold too tightly onto those they love, and let them flee freely without judgement if they wanted to.

But now that he had fully come into the role of Shen Qingqiu and had married Luo Binghe, it seemed more and more clear to him that, perhaps, his lack of territorial instincts had come from the fact that he had never had anything as precious as Binghe's glass heart to protect and keep.

Which was why Shen Qingqiu was starting to become more and more familiar with the feeling of jealousy blooming like a wretched thorn in his stomach. The constant flirting and coquetting around were making Shen Qingqiu feel angrier every time.

There were two reasons for this, he realized. One, the fact that, though secretly a poser, Shen Qingqiu was a great peak lord, and having his marriage disrespected by random NPCs felt like quite an insult to both himself and his sect.

He couldn't imagine others flirting with Mobei-Jun, for instance, because it was common knowledge he had married the An Ding Peak Lord a.k.a the "Great Master" Airplane (though to be fair, Mobei-Jun wasn't the protagonist, and the respect for An Ding Peak had not increased at all, especially since Shang Qinghua began publishing some of his terribly perverted writing without even using a fake name!)

Regardless, the point was that the constant flirting was an affront to Qing Jing Peak, if not to the whole Cang Qiong Mountain!

Secondly, Shen Qingqiu's pride as a man was constantly being tested. Though the tips of his ears still dusted pink when he said it out loud, Luo Binghe was his husband and he did not like anybody trying to sway him, even if he knew they would fail miserably. Whilst he could not stop people from admiring his Binghe or lusting after him, to have them openly hit on him was very upsetting. Luo Binghe was his, and they had no business being so audaciously flirty!

(If Binghe were to know these things, Shen Qingqiu was sure he would not allow him to leave the bed for three days and three nights!)

So, Shen Qingqiu had not intervened in any of these situations, letting Luo Binghe deal with them as he saw fit. Partly because he did not want to sour his mood, partly because having his husband reaffirm his love was satisfying.

That, until one day.

Shen Qingqiu's patience had always been plenty, but not infinite. And the limit of it had been reached when, after a long day of travelling, the inn that they had chosen to spend the night in had a far too audacious clerk working the desk. The man was in his late youth, not quite old enough to be mature but having long abandoned the appearance of boyhood, and he seemed particularly starry eyed about Luo Binghe.

That would not have been out of the question, but to see the man bite his lip and stare up at Luo Binghe in a thinly veiled expression of subservience and desire had miffed Shen Qingqiu to the point that he sent the man a glare so cold he faltered for a moment.

But the peace was short lived.

As the man (whose name Shen Qingqiu obstinately refused to remember) led them to their room, for a very split second, his hand had "brushed" against Luo Binghe's lower back, a gesture that had definitely not been unintended.

But Shen Qingqiu had noticed it and nimbly smacked the back of the man's hand with his fan right as it was about to "brush" a bit lower. Binghe did not have time to so much as realize what had happened before the man yelped in pain.

"Luo-shixiong, your shizun is too cruel!" The man whimpered, so pathetic that one would have believed he had his hand cut clean off.

"One should know when to keep their hands to themselves." Shen Qingqiu replied, opening his fan, upturning his nose and closing his eyes not unlike how the original Shen Jiu would have done. "Don't you know it is impolite to lay your hands on somebody without their consent? Especially somebody that has already told you they are married and uninterested."

Luo Binghe's eyes watched his shizun with a mix of shock, surprize, joy and excitement, but he dared not intervene. That was too good to ruin - Shen Qingqiu had never said anything to Binghe's many suitors before, and though Binghe was happy Shizun trusted him, he had indeed wanted some kind of possessive reaction from him... and now, he had received it!

The inn clerk pouted further, looking even more pathetic. "I had not intended to do anything uncouth... I was simply discussing sword forms with Luo-xiong..."

"If you are interested in the martial arts, I could refer you to Bai Zhan Peak." Shen Qingqiu interrupted, in that same harsh, arrogant, "needles hidden in silk" tone. "Though I doubt Liu-shidi would willingly take in a new disciple that seems so terribly unpromising."

Binghe barely suppressed a laugh at that as the inn clerk's expression soured. He did not dare say anything else, not when Binghe himself sent him a meaningful, dark glance.

The room they had rented had indeed been beautiful, cozy with an air of elegance. If this particular man was terribly irritating, at least the inn did not reflect that same poor character.

"Should I bring my esteemed guests anything before I retreat?" The inn clerk asked, some of his saccharine sweetness dissipated into placid politeness.

Binghe began, "No, I-"

"Yes." Shen Qingqiu interrupted, placing his fan on the table with just enough force for a small click to reverberate as the wood of the handle met the tabletop. "The finest wine you have."

Luo Binghe's eyes glinted so brightly that Shen Qingqiu felt blinded for a moment. But his mood had indeed soured too much, and his expression did not soften. The severity in his eyes made goosebumps raise on his disciple's skin, a pleasant shiver down his spine.

"Hurry now. I have much to...discuss with my husband tonight and I do not wish to waste any more time." Shen Qingqiu spoke again, his tone still icy.

The inn clerk could only obey as he scurried out of the door, his face both pale and red all the same.

He had a feeling that there would be many complaints of improper noises disturbing the rest of his inn's patrons!

[ranticore]

What are some mythological monsters from Siren? Are any of them actually real? 👀 (some visual references appreciated if you're able...)

i was going to save this to draw something but don't think i'll have the time to work on it

some mythological monsters (really limited list tbh you can imagine that almost every community has their own take)

false phocid/doppelganger/mirror self/etc - this creature can be glimpsed at a distance and appears very similar to you, baby phocid, but you must never swim out to greet them. the mirror self will only swim further and further away, tempting you to follow, until it traps you in unfamiliar territory or even an evil maze, a place that resembles no place you've ever been before. moral of the story: don't trust strangers/teaching basic fear of the unknown

Tel!am - this is more of a godlike being than most mythological monsters, and can be found in the stories of people from the southern hemisphere. Tel!am is the seafloor itself, which is why deadly aerated water, which seeps up from cracks in the seafloor, is known as Tel!am's Blood/Breath/etc. Tel!am is asleep most of the time but wakes during rare high tide events, during which they rage against the moons and smash up any land/infrastructure/people that happen to get in their way. moral of the story: if there's a high tide forecast you need to get the fuck out of there

Odr - kind of an inverse of Tel!am, supposedly Odr was a giant selkie from the northern hemisphere who took on various heroic challenges to prove their might. They shaped much of the ice-caps by fighting monsters and enemies there (every stroke of their fighting spear would carve a new mountain or whatever, that kind of tale) before growing so sleepy that they curled up and fell into a slumber at a point in the icecaps now known as Odr's Sleep, became buried in snow, and is now only exposed during low tide events. the world as we know it will probably end if the tide gets low enough to reveal Odr entirely, causing them to wake. moral of the story: if there's a low tide forecast you need to get the fuck out of there

Kin/Ruler of the High Tide/Ishmael - in the western continent it is believed that there is a common ancestor for all phocids who arose from this region and that's how we got phocids, who were born when this ancestor raised a high tide. which is straightforward enough. but as people spread further and further from the western continent and settled more remote places, the legend grew legs and kind of morphed into 101 different cautionary tales about a morally-neutral trickster character who, again, might end the world if he raises another high tide, or might birth a new generation of sirenians. moral of the story: you guys should be writing your history down better probably

The Endless Kattakati - this one comes from zetas in the eastern continent. In the past it was common for zeta packs of up to twenty individuals to all be in one kattakati (i.e all of them were considered to be One Single Entity, like a culturally eusocial rather than biologically). there are surviving stories of a potential future, like a different fork in the path of history, that resulted in every single zeta being in ONE kattakati. a single person with tens of thousands of bodies. whether or not this idea is a comfort to them varies of course; the more traditionally-minded might think it sounds very peaceful, while those more integrated with outside cultures and people might see it as a frightening tale of assimilation and loss of individuality. some say that it could happen in the future, too, if only they could sum up the will to try. moral of the story: peace and community are within reach if only we set aside our differences more/oh god oh no oh fuck

longwing visors in general - with each one being tied to a specific character, some of them do happen to be monstrous in nature. flying monsters are a common theme - usually based on recreations of the large, winged metal caskets in which many visors were first unearthed. these creatures were said to plague the first generations of longwings, ruling the skies and attacking anything around them, until mysteriously they all died, transferring their powers of long-distance communication and foresight into the visors inside their bodies. moral of the story: sorry you got stuck with a visor with monstrous baggage i guess you're kind of a monster now too

the Night-time Professor - if you join the university at the Spire as a new student you might hear stories of a strange apparition that flies through the hallways and lecture rooms at night. that's actually a ghost of a scholar who got sick and died while working on his thesis, but that's no fucking excuse for not turning your work in on time so he's STILL out there working on it and won't be allowed to pass on until he's finished. moral of the story: we don't accept sick notes and you're not getting that deadline extension

[venerawrites]

Headcanon When Itachi is sick and his s/o is taking care of him

author's note: stupid me missed the part where it said it was headcanons request, so I started writing it as a drabble 😭 Anyway, I fixed it, so I really hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for requesting! <3

Itachi is probably one of the most stubborn men in the Naruto universe. In his mind, he is made to care for and protect those close to him, even if at the expense of his own well-being.

He hates making people around him worry, and especially his s/o. It is bad enough that they are constantly stressed by him being part of Akatsuki and Sasuke seeking his revenge, they do not need additional reasons to worry.

With that being said, Itachi's first instinct once he gets sick is to simply stay away. He never gives a time by when he must be back from a mission, so this easily gives him 2-3 days to rest and get back on his feet before he visits his lover.

As a ninja who travelled all over the world and survived some of the harshest weather conditions, the Uchiha rarely got sick. It happened once every few years, but when it did - it was BAD.

Maybe it was the constant cold rain in Amegakure or the poison arrow with which one of the village's guards managed to hit him (or maybe even both), but just a day after he and Kisame left, he found himself so weak and tired, his teammate had to carry him all the back.

Not wanting to bring him back to the base, the first place Kisame thought of was Itachi's s/o's house.

I've said before that I always imagined Itachi with someone who lives in a remote cottage and is either a herb gatherer or somehow knowledgeable when it comes to natural medicine.

One glance at the black-haired shinobi was enough for them to understand he must have caught the flu or some type of virus. Thankfully, they knew exactly what he needed and wouldn't waste even a minute, before grabbing their coat and running to the nearby village to buy some medical ingredients that were missing in their kitchen.

His s/o would totally pamper him like a baby, despite Itachi's protests and claims that "he is fine".

They would make all his medicine by scratch every single day till he gets better. Most of the time it took the form of either a paste or a tea, which they served with his meal.

If they have any medical ninjutsu knowledge, they will use it to ease his symptoms, but I doubt they will be that good to heal him completely.

Itachi would constantly huff about it, but he secretly loved the cozy space his partner managed to create using all the available pillows/blankets they found in their house.

As I said above, this man is very stubborn, so inevitably there will be some small arguments during that time. Mainly they were started by Itachi, who claimed he was feeling fine now (despite his pale face and loud cough), and finished by his s/o, who would always end up physically restraining him on the bed by laying next to him and hugging him.

In order to make sure he doesn't get up and move too much, his s/o would spend the majority of their day by his side. Reading books to him, telling him stories, playing board games, sometimes even gossiping... They will do anything to engage his mind and keep him distracted from the idea of trying to do stuff on his own.

Something he won't fight, however, is his s/o's massages. They would work on his aching muscles every single night, relieving the pain and the stress his body was feeling. Not only he love the feeling of his partner's hands on him, but it also greatly helps him relax and fall asleep.

With all of this treatment, it won't take long for Itachi to be back on his feet and spoil his s/o as reward for the good care they provided to him.

cc artwork: Oliver Beck

[midnightcrw]

would you write about how simon and his wife met? moving in together and the proposal? i like the idea of his partner proposing to him but whatever you wanna write is fine to me ilysm take care♥️

Rest

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

Summary: Simon lets his inner child rest

a/n: Writing this made me feel insanely emotional. It has not been the best few weeks for me and I really wanted to write for this request. I have never felt loved before, which is why I focused on writing this more about Simon. Everyone deserves to be loved and cared for, which is why this one hit me a little hard, but I'm happy with the outcome. I just wanted to show a bit of an emotional side of Simon, which I was inspired by in my own one-shot, "Mama's Boy." I think the reader being a florist fits perfectly with the whole Daisy thing and Simon's past with his mother, so I went with it. I'm also incredibly sorry that it took so long to write this, but I hope that you'll like it.

Meeting for the first time:

It was peaceful outside. The birds were chirping, while the laughter and chatter of the people could be heard. And that was usually a good thing.

Not hearing gunshots, screams, and explosions should always be good, but somehow it didn't feel that way to Simon.

It had been a week since his last mission had ended and he could go home, but it didn't feel right.

It was hard to describe. The thrill and adrenaline of the missions always kept him awake, while when he had free time, there was nothing to distract him.

And how he wished his thoughts would stop, but they never did.

His mother's birthday was coming up, and even though she was long gone, he still felt that aching in his chest. He wanted to cry and scream, but at the same time it was impossible that this would ever happen.

At the same time, he felt suffocated, but he could still breathe, and that confused him more than anything else. His footsteps took him further down the early morning street while he wasn't even concentrated on his surroundings.

He missed his mother and his family, though the memories weren't really the best, they still held his past self tightly.

Simon always hated himself, especially his younger self. He knew it wasn't his fault, but the guilt remained, almost as if it was tattooed deep into his skin, the ink seeping through every layer.

He wished there was another universe where things would be better, if not for him, then at least for those he had loved and cared about.

And without realizing it, he found himself in a small shop. And how out of place he looked.

The shop was filled with pastel colors, simple and colorful at the same time, while he could smell the different scents of the flowers he was surrounded by.

The daisies were the first to catch his eye. They were his mother's favorite flowers and he still remembered every single thing his mother used to tell him about them and how she always took a few Daisy's home with her.

Simon let out a shaky breath as he suddenly felt hot. He wasn't going to cry and he knew it. He could never cry, not even for those he loved.

"Sir, are you all right?" Hearing the soft voice of a woman, he turned his head until he met the face of the stranger standing behind the counter.

"Everything's fine," Simon rasped out, and only if he knew how much his life would change after this brief interaction.

Moving in together:

"Simon! Did you take the box already?" Your voice echoed through the currently empty room of the house.

"I did," Simon replied as he put the box down. And with that, you nodded and made your way outside to get some of your things.

While you did so, Simon stood in your empty living room. Everything looked so empty, but he could picture it all in his mind.

He could imagine how the two of you would decorate the whole house to make it a comfortable place and somehow it made him feel excited in his chest.

This usual aching feeling in his chest was somehow much better now. It didn't feel suffocating like before, but rather a peaceful feeling.

A few years ago, he would have felt troubled to do anything outside of his job, but now it didn't feel that way anymore.

It was almost as if he was getting closer to having peace. And as if the child of himself was finally outside, enjoying the sunny weather as he ran around the field, finally smiling.

It felt like something was lifting off his shoulders and giving him room to breathe freely.

"You okay?" Your voice made itself heard as you put a hand on his shoulder and looked up at him with a worried look on your face.

Simon just nodded, unable to answer, afraid that his voice would break as soon as a single word left his lips.

And the moment a smile found its way to your lips, Simon was left breathless as the sunlight shone on your face, making you look even more beautiful.

His heart rate increased and that's when he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

Proposal:

The weather was fine outside as he looked out the window and saw people walking down the street with smiles on their faces.

Yet he felt restless.

Simon had never felt so nervous, and it reminded him of the time before he had met you.

The suffocating feeling returned as his heart ached, but it wasn't because he was sad or unhappy with you.

It had something to do with the weight in his pocket, and since he'd been carrying it around, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He finally wanted to do it. To make you his and his alone and he made his decision.

Nodding to himself, Simon tried to stop his discouraging thoughts as he made his way to the kitchen, where you were currently standing, waiting for the pancake to turn out the way you wanted.

But even you were restless. You were deep in thought, but conscious enough to notice Simon as you bit your lip.

You wanted to get it out of your chest, even though you were afraid of how he would react.

Finally coming to your decision, you turned down the heat of the stove as you turned around to look at him.

And there he was, your Simon.

The man you had fallen in love with, the man your heart beat for, and the man you couldn't even imagine living without.

Breathing heavily, you encouraged yourself as you finally pulled out the small red case containing a single ring, just for Simon.

And the moment his eyes looked down to see the case, Simon's eyes widened as you opened it to reveal the wedding band.

"I-" Before you could get out a single word, Simon interrupted you with a swift 'wait' as he pulled out a case of his own.

His fingers opened the case, revealing a beautiful ring to your eyes, which became as wide as his.

Without a word, you closed the red case tightly in the palm of your hand as you threw your arms around his torso, your heart pounding furiously in your chest.

As your arms tightened around him and a small 'yes' left your lips, a single tear rolled down Simon's face.

And with that, the aching in his chest and the suffocating feeling left him as he finally felt free.

He let the troubled child inside of him rest in a peaceful sleep as he held you close to him, never wanting to let go.

Simon didn't even feel an ounce of hatred towards himself, he finally felt like he deserved something he longed for.

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART VII

Summary: after failing to propose to Agnese, Tommy is given an ultimatum. But the events of the previous night only complicate things further, and Tommy and Nina are forced to have a conversation they can’t escape. Meanwhile, Pietro has something to ask his sister.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, no proofreading, English is not my first language. This is set between season 1 and 2.

A/N: the wait has been awfully long, and I’m sorry for that! I’m trying to find the way to be more constant with my updates🤍

PREVIOUS PART

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gif credits

Dividers credits

One week.

They had given him one more week of time to propose to Agnese, or else the deal would be off.

He would be lying if he said that he didn’t expect it, though. He was playing with fire, and he knew it. When he had decided to go for lunch at Agnese’s house the previous day, he had indirectly made it clear that he’d finally propose. And that was the intention, at first. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Under the expectant eyes of Agnese’s family, Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to pull the ring out of his pocket and ask that fateful question. Why was it so damn difficult?

That wasn’t how things were meant to go. He was supposed to go to Italy, court whatever woman they preferred, and get on with it. He’d stop the war, he’d help the Ferrantes in their own war with Sabini, and everyone would be happy. He would keep his head, and the Ferrantes would keep their place on top of the racing business - alongside with him. He thought he had considered all the obstacles that could possibly get in his way, and yet there was one he would’ve never taken into account. That obstacle had a name and a face. A quite pretty face, too.

He was fucked. He was utterly, inexorably fucked. After last night, he was sure of that. The worst thing was - he had been truthful when he had said that he didn’t regret it. Because he didn’t, not even a bit. It felt like all the choices he had ever made had brought him to that moment, to that kiss, to having her in his arms, to be enveloped by her warmth. And God, did he feel cold when she walked away.

He just wished Polly were there. She would know what to do. She’d yell at him, probably, maybe even slap him. But she’d help him. She was half of him, and understood him so much more than he understood himself. He hadn’t imagined it would be so hard to even function without her being by his side. However, he knew better than to write to her, because he was well aware that the letter would pass through other hands first. Those people trusted him no more than he trusted them.

After lunch, Tommy took advantage of the fact that Nina was washing the dishes on her own to approach her. He had the impression she had been actively ignoring him, averting his gaze and leaving every time he tried to get close to her, avoiding the conversation they couldn’t really escape. Leaning against the counter, he allowed himself a moment to look at her. Her eyebrows were furrowed in that frown that had now become so familiar to him, and that he had grown to find rather cute. A rebellious lock had escaped her braid, falling in front of her face, and he had to restrain himself from giving in to the temptation to reach his hand out and fix it.

“We should talk about what happened,” he eventually murmured, making sure to keep his voice low.

Nina’s posture stiffened, but her face didn’t betray any sort of emotion. “What are you talking about?” She asked, keeping on scrubbing a plate without sparing him a single glance.

He blinked, opening his mouth to say something, but words failed him at her question. Out of all the things she could’ve said, that one he didn’t expect. Collecting himself, he spoke again. “Yesterday night.”

“I don’t recall anything happening yesterday night.”

Her words caused his eyebrows to shot up, and he couldn’t hold back a scoff. “Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious.”

“Nina, we need to discuss-”

“You want me to discuss something I don’t recall?” She quickly interrupted him, not even giving him the chance to finish his sentence.

The muscles in his jaw clenched, and it took him more than a moment to shake off the annoyance. He couldn’t believe she was seriously doing that. It wasn’t just her words that managed to get under Tommy’s skin, but her completely indifferent attitude, and the way she was treating him as if she was doing him a favour just by giving him her attention. They had gotten so close he had forgotten how aggravating she could be. “You can pretend all you want, sweetheart. It won’t make what happened any less real.”

“Sweetheart.”

“But if that’s what you wanna do, then fine,” he continued, his tone switching to the one he reserved for business. Apparently, that was the game she wanted to play. But he was a good player, too, and he wouldn’t let her see how much her indifference stung. With a swift motion, he took ahold of his pocket watch, clearing his throat. “It’s late,” he changed the subject, with the air of a man whose time had been wasted long enough. “I have a meeting with your father.”

“Then go.”

Finally, Nina looked at him, eyes glaring with a silent threat to leave her alone. There was something else in her gaze, though, something he couldn’t quite read. It was frustrating, not being able to read her. He could usually tell about people, yet she stayed a mystery. It didn’t matter how much time they spent together, there was always something that eluded him, a missing piece that prevented him from getting the whole picture. For a short while, they just stared at each other in silence, and Tommy was hit by the foolish need to feel her close again. It was as if the more Nina pushed him away, the more he felt himself drawn to her. It was overwhelming. So overwhelming that he had to immediately leave the room before he did something that would put the both of them in an awful position. He hated the way Nina’s mere presence was enough to make him lose any sort of power he had over his emotions, melting into dust the control he had worked to hard to achieve. He couldn’t afford to lose that control, not when there was so much at stake.

Fucking hell.

As soon as Tommy left the room, Nina exhaled, letting out the breath she had been holding under his stare. Why was it so hard for her to keep him at a distance? Why did it pain her to treat him as if she didn’t care about him in the slightest? Why did she care about him?

It was messed up. Absurd. She couldn’t get the events of the previous night out of her head. The scent of his aftershave, the taste of whiskey and cigarettes on his tongue, the tender firmness of his rough hands. Just thinking about it made her knees go weak again. No one had ever kissed her like he did, looked at her like he did, made her feel the things he had made her feel. She had never even thought it possible, and now there she was, replaying it in her mind again and again, craving way more than the mere memory.

It had been a mistake, a terrible mistake.

“Nina, can you come here for a second?” Pietro’s voice resounded in the kitchen, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Her cheeks heated as she felt as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to do. She hid it by staying with her back on him, under the impression that her betrayal was written on her face, and that just by looking at her he’d be able to tell what she had done. She put the last plate in the cabinet before drying her hands with a rug. “What?”

“Sit.”

When she turned around, her brother was sitting at the table, waiting for her to join him. Although he had spoken in his usual authoritative tone, there was something strange in his demeanour, a hint of uneasiness that breached through his facade of unwavering composure. Furrowing her brows, Nina took a seat in front of him, waiting for him to speak. The silence seemed to stretch into an eternity as Pietro clasped his hands on the table, visibly pondering his next words.

“I know about Stefano.”

The blood froze in her veins as her brother uttered those words, her heart thumping in her chest at implication that he might know what Stefano had attempted. She gulped, her throat feeling suddenly dry. “What?”

“Dad told me he wants to marry you.”

Nina had to hold back a sigh of relief at his statement. She had no idea how he would react, if he’d keep her secret or tell their father about it, if he’d help her or blame her. Because even though in her heart she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, she didn’t have the certainty that her family would think the same. Then his words sunk in, and it didn’t take long for her worry to turn into disturbance, her blood boiling at the sensation of having her strings being pulled, again.

“You want to convince me?” She asked with an undertone of accusation in her voice.

“I want to know what you want,” he said carefully, testing the waters. After a brief pause, which served to ascertain that his sister would listen to him and not verbally attack him before he could say another word, he started again, this time more firmly. “Nina, the balance between our families might shift at any given moment. A marriage between the two of you would avert any prospect of war,” he pragmatically explained, causing Nina’s expression to harden. But it didn’t take long for his mask to slip, and his features softened with understanding. “But that means nothing if you don’t want to marry him.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then you won’t have to,” he leaned forward, and Nina could read the glimpse of a promise shining in his gaze. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Her brother’s calmness, along with the assurance in his voice, managed to partially quieten the storm going on in her mind. But it still wasn’t enough to make her feel safe. She shook her head, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. He couldn’t really make that promise, after all. And as much as she deluded herself to have a say in what would happen in her future, Nina knew that if things went down she wouldn’t really have a choice. “It’s decided, in dad’s head. He said the choice’s up to me, but we both know that it’s not.”

She despised the undertone of resignation in her voice. She had never voiced that thought, she had never even allowed herself to indulge in it up until that point, but she knew that was just another addition to the pile of problems she’d have to face, sooner of later.

Pietro didn’t seem to intend to let the matter go. He leaned with his arms on the table, his dark eyes stubbornly looking for Nina’s gaze. “Do you trust me?”

That question was enough to make Nina falter. Did she trust him?

She used to, up until before the war. Blindly. They were so close she would’ve trusted him with her life. He was the one who convinced her father to let her finish school, he was the one who took the blame - and the punishment - for her wrongdoings when they were children, he was the one she turned to when she had a problem. Then he left for war, and never came back. But his eyes were telling her that he would be by her side no matter what, that he would always have her back. And she wondered - what if she told him? What if she opened up and and shared with him the burden she had carried on her shoulders for too many years? Maybe he would protect her. Because fragments of the boy she grew up with were still scattered somewhere deep inside him, and that boy would do anything to keep her safe.

“Pietro, I…” she hesitated, shifting in her seat. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” He frowned.

“I…”

He’ll blame you.

That thought poisoned Nina’s mind, stopping the words from coming out of her mouth. He wouldn’t protect her, he’d blame her. He’d tell their father, and he’d blame her too. Because if Stefano had gotten so obsessed with her, chances were she had done something to accommodate that kind of behaviour.

No one could protect her. No one would protect her. She only had herself.

“What, Nina?” Pietro’s impatient voice brought her back to her senses, and the weight of his stare was suddenly too much to bear. Gathering her emotions back under her control, she shook her head, brushing the matter off with the a gesture of her hand.

“Nevermind. It’s not important.”

Standing outside the door of Tommy’s bedroom, Nina nervously fidgeted with her fingers, debating whether to knock or chicken out and go back to her room. Or maybe she could wait for him in the kitchen. Maybe he’d join her, like every night.

No, he wouldn’t join her. Not after the way she had treated him. She had been childish, and insufferable. But truth was - she didn’t want to have that conversation, because talking about it meant admitting that something had, indeed, happened. That she had betrayed her cousin, her family. Herself. And she felt like a terrible person. However, Tommy was right. Pretending wouldn’t take back what was done, and her problems wouldn’t solve themselves. If she wanted to make things easier for herself, she should start somewhere. So in a fit of determination, she had left her bedroom and crossed the corridor, knowing that she needed to act before the urge to take back control of her life faded. It was safe to say she already regretted it, though. Finally, she mustered up the courage and delicately knocked on the door, her heart racing in her chest. There was some noise, then the door opened, and she was met with Tommy’s surprised expression.

“Can I come in?” She shyly asked, suddenly aware that showing up at his door in the middle of the night was probably a bit too bold, even for her. After recovering from his astonishment, Tommy moved to the side, allowing her to walk inside the room.

She hadn’t entered that room since before his arrival. It was somehow curious, to see how he had made himself at home. It was just like she expected it to be. Tidy, clean, and it smelled like his expensive cologne. For some reason, the belongings placed around it made him seem more human. The shoes paired on the floor next to the closet, the clothes for the next day neatly folded on a chair, the cigarette case placed on the bedside table, next to a flask. She would bet his gun was in the first drawer.

“How did the meeting with my father go?” She stalled, asking the first thing that came to her mind while she thought about how to start the actual conversation.

Tommy apparently wasn’t in the mood for small talk, though, because he completely ignored her question. Instead, his piercing gaze followed her as she took a few steps around the room, a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance on his face. It was clear to Nina that he was thoroughly fed up with her bullshit, and she couldn’t really blame him. As much as she hated to admit he was in the right, she was aware she was treading on thin ice. A heavy silence fell into the room, and Nina felt a faint sense of agitation starting to creep up on her. It wasn’t just the weight of Tommy’s glare on her that made her feel uncomfortable, but the feeling of general awkwardness that felt so unnatural between them now. Then a hint of doubt crossed his features, as if he had been suddenly struck by some realisation.

“Why are you here, Nina?” He squinted his eyes, taking a few steps in her direction. “Information? Is your family sending you?”

Nina felt like the rug had been pulled from under her feet. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out of it as she was too shocked to put a whole sentence together. “What?” She eventually said under her breath.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Tommy went on, walking until he stopped right in front of her. “And I’ve been wondering why your family hasn’t had my head yet for not proposing. Are you hiding something?”

“What would I be hiding?”

“You tell me. Why did you get near me, eh?”

“Fuck you,” she spat out. His accusation felt like a harsh slap to her face. How dared he say something like that after how close she had let him? After she had opened up to him about things she had never even admitted to herself? After she had let him see her?

Tommy regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. The hint of hurt behind the anger on Nina’s face made his stomach clench, and he cursed himself for how cruel he had been. Whatever it was that they had built over the last month couldn’t be some kind of farce, a trap set to act behind his back. It was too real, too sincere. And Nina wasn’t Grace.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured after a moment of hesitation. “I didn’t mean it.”

“But you said it.”

Tommy looked away from her, as the pain in her eyes only added to the gnawing guilt eating at him. Guilt. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long while. He had become kind of numb to it, he often pushed it back without second thought, not allowing himself to dwell on things he could’ve done differently and things he shouldn’t have said. In his line work, guilt was a weakness, and a dangerous one. It had become way too easy to say, do and take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it, no matter how many people got hurt in the process. Yet there it was, that strange, niggling feeling, stinging him like an annoying splinter.

Shaking off the mixture of anger and hurt, Nina took a few steps back, concluding that it was time to stop dancing around the subject. The sooner they had that conversation, the sooner things would go back to normal. Straightening her back, she took on a facade of fake confidence, hoping it wouldn’t crumble as soon as Tommy’s eyes would be on her again. “What happened…” she started, drawing his attention back on her. “Was a mistake. We’ve…” she paused, carefully choosing what to say next. “…acted impulsively. It was a moment of weakness, nothing more.”

Tommy fixed his gaze on the wall behind her, pondering her words. “Right,” he nodded, returning his eyes to her. “It didn’t mean anything,” he confirmed, but something in his expression was telling her that he was only saying that to see her reaction, silently daring her to agree with him and keep on denying the existence of what was right in front of them.

“So we’re clear.”

“We’re clear,” he repeated.

The silence of things left unsaid echoed in Tommy’s bedroom, but neither of them dared to break it, for they knew that once they took that step, there would be no going back. It had been just a kiss. They had cleared things out. Everything was normal again.

Nina took a look around the room, hoping that focusing on the small details would take her mind off that awful tension. It worked, to some extent, because her attention was soon grabbed by the only item that seemed to be out of place: the peaky cap lying on his bed. With slow, measured steps she made her way towards it, unable to hold back her interest.

“What I’ve said before,” Tommy’s deep voice resounded behind her. “I didn’t mean it. I know I said it, but I didn’t mean it. I need you to know.”

“It’s fine,” she said absentmindedly, observing how the razor blades sewn in it glistened in the dim light. “You know, they say it’s bad luck to put a hat on the bed,” she murmured.

“Do you believe it?” He asked with an undertone of skepticism in his voice, almost certain that Nina wasn’t the superstitious type.

“No,” she turned to face him with a half-grin, confirming his suspicions.

As if naturally drawn to the peculiarity of that choice of weapon, Nina looked back at the cap, but this time she couldn’t restrain herself from reaching her hand out to it. She wavered for a second, but then the curiosity took the best of her, and she grabbed it to take a better look at it. The crown of a King. She couldn’t help but wonder how many faces those razor blades had cut, how many eyes they had blinded, guided by the same hand that had handled her with such gentleness. She couldn’t picture Tommy losing his calm. He had a charm, a magnetism that clashed with his reputation, and he was so composed in the way he carried himself that it felt almost impossible to believe he was as ruthless as everyone said. And a shiver ran down her spine as she realised how little she actually knew him.

But it wasn’t fear. She hadn’t been scared of him the first time she had met him and she wasn’t scared now.

“Why do you keep them if you have guns?” She asked, handing it back to him. Although she didn’t believe that stuff, the thought of putting his hat on the bed didn’t sit well with her.

“We’re called the Peaky Blinders for a reason, sweetheart,” he explained, earning a glare from Nina as he brought back the pet name that had bothered her so much earlier that day. “And it’s a good backup if they take away your weapon.”

With a nod of her head, Nina quietly agreed with him. It did make sense. “I guess you can never be too safe.”

He uncovered the central blade, exposing it to the light. “My sister and my aunt always have one of these smuggled under the sole of their shoe.” Tommy paused for a few seconds, as if thinking about something, then he took ahold of the razor blade and ripped it off the cap. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Keep it.”

His unexpected gesture made Nina falter, but then she carefully grabbed the blade. The sensation of the cold metal between her fingers gave her an odd feeling of security, and she asked herself how something so small could cause so much damage. When she raised her gaze on Tommy, he was already looking at her, his blue irises deep with an emotion she couldn’t really define, but that disarmed her nonetheless. They were so close she could perceive the warmth radiating off his body, and she had no idea how that had happened. She could feel him, solid and secure, and the only thing she could think about was having his hands on her again, his arms enveloping her, his whole body pressed against hers.

Tommy wasn’t immune to that proximity either, and the urge of closing the distance between them was getting bigger and bigger. Her lips, her eyes, her scent, everything was calling him, and it took all the self-restraint he was capable of not to give in to the temptation. Why did she have to look at him like that?

Inhaling sharply, Nina took a step back, leaving a cold, painful emptiness in the spot she had previously filled. “It’s late,” she whispered, rubbing her arms in a soothing manner. “Goodnight.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned around, starting to walk away. Driven by the unreasonable need to have her with him just for a little while more, Tommy moved to reach out to her, but his body froze in place as reason struck him like a blow. It was pointless. They were nothing, they would always be nothing.

So he let her leave.

NEXT PART

Heart, Body and Soul tag list: @zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark @kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4 @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse @citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Spider Webs - König*Fem!Reader

He's obsessed with you, but you are more obsessed with him.

Content Warning: 18+ (masturbation, dirty imaginations), mdni , König is a pervert and so are you.

part 2 part 3 bonus chapter 1

König thinks people like you shouldn't join the military, you were too kind, too innocent for this place.

You were his assistant who joined KorTac a year ago.

You quickly became familiar with your colleague. You are friendly and considerate. You always remember what others like, notice the little details, and keep a mental note.

Even to someone like him.

Your job was to assist him, so of course you two interact a lot. You help him with the tedious paperwork, and when he is tired of writing the endless reports, and just starts to think about having some coffee, you knock on his door and come in with a cup of latte in your hand.

He never told you he likes latte before, he assumed you knew it from Horangi. At first, you tried different portions of milk, and you found out the amount of milk he loves to add to his coffee the day he asks for one more cup.

He usually thinks he hides his emotions and thoughts behind his hood very well — at least to others, until the day he squinted his eyes when he's talking to you a few times after drowning him in the pile of paperwork for too long and his eyes were sore.

That day after you left his office after reporting some news, he reached his hand under the hood, rubbing his eyes in order to relieve the pressure, and a few moments after, the familiar soft knocks resonated in his office, you came in with a warm towel in your hand.

"I think you might need this, colonel." You handed him the towel, it was lukewarm in his hands, but he felt like his heart was burning. "I hope you don't mind that I use my own towel since I didn’t find one."

He covered his eyes with the towel after you walked out of the office. The exhaustion vanished like it had been absorbed by the towel.

and it's the day he notices his obsession with you.

Like a moth flying into flames, he knows it is wrong, and he thinks he doesn't deserve you, but he can't help but indulge deeper in your warmness.

The towel you gave him is tucked into the deepest part of his drawer. He told you that he accidentally spilled the coffee on the towel, and he would buy you a new one, which you smiled and told him it was not a big deal.

The towel smelled just like you, having the elegant fragrance of your perfume always making him dizzy when he's near you.

He took it to his nostril, and inhaled deeply, letting your smell occupy his whole mind, inhaling you in, letting it merge with his blood, his every single cell, his soul.

He took it back to his room the day he felt extremely tired and wrapped it around his shaft, recalling the alluring figure he saw in the day, trying to remember the feeling your hand brushed against him when you handed him the coffee.

He bit the inside of his hood, but it did little to hide his moans. Your name slipped out his mouth like a motto, louder and louder, he imagined what you might be doing now. 

Were you taking a shower, with those bubbles covering your perfect body? Were you cooking something while swaying your hips along with the music you were playing?

Or, were you pleasuring yourself too? He hoped he was the one you were thinking of when you put your hands over your most private part, rubbing circles on your clit while whining with your honey-soaked voice.

Oh, you didn't know how he desperately wanted you to moan out his name too, like how you always call him by his rank sweetly, but he imagined you calling him König this time.

"Oh... Scheiße!...I- I’m coming..!" His voice picked up an octave, and after a grunt, he covered your towel with his cum.

You didn't know how guilty he felt when you greeted him with your cute smile the next day, reminding him how the white in contrast with the blue of your towel.

He realized he was totally a sick bastard when your scent finally faded from the towel after washing them the same night he used them to pleasure himself.

He was unable to sleep without your smell anymore, not when he couldn't let your smell become the last thing he thought about before he drifted into sultry dreams about you.

He went to the office you shared with other assistants at night, searching your table for another towel.

He found nothing. 

Your desk was clean and neat, without any personal things except a few pens you use.

No towel or handkerchief, no hair tie, no ornament he could sneak out.

so he went through the profiles of all workers of KorTac secretly, typing your name in the search bar, and opening yours with shaky breaths.

And there's your address, written under your name, he felt like the words are shining glaringly in the dark office.

"I'll be out for a few hours." He told you the next day, looking down at you, voices remain as calm as he could be.

"Okay, tell me if there's anything I can help you with." your innocent smile almost made him feel sorry, but he didn't forget to inhale the smell of your perfume under his hood.

He drove his car, heading towards your house, the address already imprinted in his mind after reading it repeatedly the last night.

Every red light makes him anxious and excited at the same time. What would your house look like? Maybe he could finally find some little decorations he could bring with him every second, but he was sure that your house would be tidy just like your desk at the base.

It was almost too easy, the fence around your house did nothing to stop him from climbing in, and he opened the front door with the tools he brought with him.

Once he stepped into your home, his knees became weak. Your house drowned him in your smell, adrenaline made his heart pounded strongly against his chest.

Just like what he assumed, your house was clean —almost too clean compared to a normal person's — and he instantly noticed your habit of closing every room's door before you went out.

He opened the first door he saw. It was a bathroom, but he found no towel in there, only a few bottles of shower gel and shampoo.

But weren't you a person who even kept one at your workplace? Why there wasn't any of them in your bathroom?

he opened the second door, happily found out that it was your bedroom, and he walked a little too swiftly to your bed, shoving his face into your pillow.

He indulged himself for a few minutes after his brain reminded him that he didn’t have much time to just lay here, he needed to find what he came for.

He opens your closet.

Oh, it is like a treasure house built only for him. He attentively rummaged through everything he could find so he wouldn't destroy the orderliness, taking a piece of any treasure he could — your fluffy towel, one of your golden earrings.

and a pair of exquisite undergarments which he is sure the white laces would bring out your already overwhelming beauty.

After putting all of them in his bag, he walked out of the bedroom contentedly and found out there was another room.

It was hidden from the sight of your front door, and he was too high to pay attention to it before he came into your bedroom, but he noticed the difference now.

The door was slightly opened, leaving a crack luring him to explore, so he opened it slowly.

A chill went down his spine when he took a good look at the inside.

His photos, which he didn’t even know when or how you took them, decorated every single part of the wall in front of your desk.

His breath became faster than before when his eyes flicked to the notebook you left open on your desk.

"2023/10/10 09:35 König tells me to make him a cup of coffee.

2023/10/10 10:56 König comes out of his office and goes to the training room.

2023/10/10 12:13 König goes to the cafeteria. He eats a chicken breast sandwich, 5 slices of apple, and 1 tangerine."

His hand flipped the pages, the record started from the first day you joined KorTac, and he let out a gasp when he suddenly heard your chuckles coming from the speaker beside the notebook.

"Like what you see, colonel?"

[sgiandubh]

This is a thank you, not an ask. I guess I would be classified as a lurker in the Tumbler world since I primarily only read what others write.  But I did make a comment to you once and you responded so you made me feel comfortable enough that I could send this to you.  Shippers have unknowingly been helping me stay sane these past few years.  My husband has Alzheimer’s with Aphasia and I have been his sole caretaker for a long time.  Having this responsibility is not for the faint of heart. One day in early 2019 I stumbled across Outlander and like a lot of others, was in, hook, line and sinker and Jamie & Claire and Sam & Cait became part of my daily life.  Last week I had to place my husband in a memory care facility.  It was an agonizing decision and I prayed for a sign that this was the right move.  As stupid as this may sound, I think my prayer was answered.  On the second day he made a friend.  His name is Jamie.  Only in the Outlander world would this have any meaning, but we've now got a sweet Jamie in our lives.  You may officially call me crazy.  Thank you to you and all the other shippers for all the smiles and happiness you've brought to me and many others. It kept me going.

Dear @jovialchaoslover,

By all means, do not thank me, even if I felt incredibly moved and honored by your submission, on behalf of the entire OL Shipper community. In fact, I should thank you, because for all those name calling and finger pointing Anons, you get to read something as genuine, moving and personal. These moments are rare and precious (and should remain so). They make you feel useful, in a very unexpected way.

You are one of those daily life unsung heroes and I want you to know that you are probably way stronger than you would ever think. I can only imagine the kind of experience you are now going through, even if I am (like many daughters, all around the world) only too aware of the cruelty with which old age sometimes disfigures beloved family members. I have only a remote idea of my own grandmother's quick descent into dementia and death, but I do have a very direct experience of the grueling toll it took on our family. Especially on my own mother, who let everything go and cared for her until the very last moment.

With the proper care solution in place, you will find yourself with a lot of time on your hands. A spare time you perhaps forgot existed. Please (I urge you) use it wisely and never forget this is all about you. You more than deserve it and the moment is now. I may know a thing or two about emptiness and void. They are incredibly enticing and treacherous. Please try and do something for you every single day. It does not matter if it is important or completely futile: it is about YOU and changing the angle will change everything. Remember the wonderful woman I am sure you are and try to reconnect with her. I can promise you she is not very far and I bet she misses you, too.

Last but not least, let me tell you that I will never call you crazy for having shared that Jamie story with us. I think it was very brave of you and I can confidently tell you it even has a name. What you experienced is called synchronicity and it is part of the tiny and personal magic of daily life. People as serious as Carl Gustav Jung dedicated their life to try and make some sense of this. And it all started with one of his patients (he was a shrink) describing a very vivid, recurrent dream of hers, that featured a scarab beetle. At the very same time, they both saw a scarab beetle (uncharacteristically) tapping on the window. The woman was not instantly cured (psychoanalysis does not exactly work like this), but it helped both of them overcome a very frustrating communication barrier.

That Jamie story is a real synchronicity, too, because it is meaningful for you and nobody else. It happened for a reason you are the only one to understand, in time. I could talk about it for hours and link it (as Jung did) with my beloved I Ching or with a couple of dead(ly) serious German philosophers, for some extra gravitas. But I am not going to over-complicate things. You got this. You are strong and brave and believe it or not, I am sure you are also loved by many.

I also think Caitriona Mary Balfe and Sam Roland Heughan should read your ask, finally understand their magic brought solace to many, many people around the world and get their damn act together for Season 8. But that is a different story altogether.

For the rest, if you want, we will be here for you. Me and probably other kind people on this side of the fence. Anytime you want, here or in DM. It may not be much, but it is something.

PS: that may or may not have brought a #silly tear, you know.

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Olympics AU - "Comeback"

Read Olympics AU "Beginnings" if you're new here.

AU summary: Paris 2024 Olympics. Gale is on the U.S. equestrian eventing team, Bucky is a U.S. gymnast, they meet on the plane to Paris, and a love story ensues.

Author's Note: This is probably not what @avonne-writes had in mind when asking for a massage scene (at least not the beginning), but I think it worked out anyways. We take a deeper dive into Bucky's story and what it took to make it to Paris, and Gale is a good boyfriend (Wait are they dating? Neither of them know)

---

The world loves a comeback story. 

They love to watch a star rise from the depths of a sport. And they also love to watch them fall. Like pulling out a bucket of popcorn to witness a train wreck – it gives them something to talk about. Something to lament. Something to circulate in newspapers and on morning shows and around social media for weeks. Something to sell headlines.

“A shame,” they say. “So much potential. Lost just like that.”

“He’ll make it through,” some say. “He’s strong. If anyone can do it, it’s him.”

“Impossible,” others say. “There’s no way. He’s done.”

They shake their heads. They send their thoughts and prayers, empty words. They say they’re wishing you a speedy recovery. And all the while they’re talking about what the future of the sport will look like without you in it. They write you off. Done. Over. Forgotten to time. 

Nothing but a name that once was met with such veneration.

But then, you set out to prove them wrong. Even when there’s only a small handful of people still holding out hope, even when those people are just glad you’re alive and couldn’t care less about your name, you put one foot in front of the other. You grit your teeth and pull every ounce of strength from the depths of your soul and pretend the world doesn’t matter. Pretend you can’t hear what they’re saying about you, about how disappointing it all is, about how there’s no coming back from a catastrophe like that — pretend you can’t hear those cynical, whispered words, even when they’re needling at your skin, trying to break through. 

And slowly, slowly, slowly, pretending the pain isn’t there, pretending your heart is stronger than you believe it is, pretending you never had a single doubt — slowly, you rise again. 

Like a phoenix from the ashes, except the ashes keep trying to pull you back down. 

Bucky kind of wishes the reporters would just shut the fuck up about his amazing comeback story. 

“U.S. gymnast John Egan seeking another Olympic medal less than two years after terrifying high bar accident,” the headlines say. 

“Incredible.” “Inspirational.” “Insane.” “Invincible.”

Those are the words people use when they talk about him. After the accident, he was “done for.” He was “hopeless.” They whispered his name and grieved his legacy. But now he’s “strong” and “unstoppable” and “relentless.” He’s back. And that’s the stuff a good story is made of.

“It’s hard to believe he’s made it this far,” they say. “It’s incredible that he’s able to do any of this right now. I can’t imagine how he does it.”

And it’s flattering, really. But he’s well aware of the unbeatable odds that he overcame to make it to Paris this year. He’s well aware of the courage and the strength and the determination that it took. He was there. He went through it. He’s the one that screamed in pain when the world shattered around him and cried his way through grueling physical therapy day after terrible day. He’s the one that nearly tore his sports psychologist’s head off when he couldn’t get past the mental blocks, couldn’t push through the fear. He was there. He remembers all of it in more detail than he wishes were possible. He remembers every gasp, every drop of sweat, every skill that he had to relearn, every landing that he prayed he’d stick. 

It’s all in his head, and he’s fought hard to keep his head on straight in spite of it. He doesn’t need it thrown in his face, too. 

But he’s learned to deal with it. He’s learned to smile to the reporters and answer their questions and move on. Because it’s part of him now, and he has to accept that. That’s the price he has to pay for living and breathing this sport that he loves.

–

It’s only the day after opening ceremonies, but Bucky feels like he’s been here for weeks even though he has several days of competition left. A big meet is always a strange limbo for him — feeling like he’s going at full speed, unable to catch his breath, even as he feels like it’s dragging on, no end in sight. That feeling has been worse this season. 

His whole body is exhausted; he’s used to that. His left leg is sore, though, like it has been at every meet this year. He’s gotten used to that, too; he’s not sure it’ll ever be 100% again. But he keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. He feels too lucky, being here, regardless of how much of himself he poured into his comeback. It feels too fast, too easy, like he shouldn’t have gotten this far but instead should’ve been stopped at the gate, told ‘sorry, you don’t belong here anymore.’ He might as well have sold his soul to get himself here, and he keeps waiting for someone to tell him his time is up. 

He keeps waiting for his leg to give out. 

He checks his brace again, under his pants. It’s still secure, just like it was when he checked it two minutes ago, and two minutes before that. He shakes his head and curses the universe for assigning the high bar as his last event today. 

Bucky has had a phenomenal qualifying round, as have his teammates. John Egan, Curtis Biddick, Harry Crosby, John Brady, and Alex Jefferson: that’s the men’s gymnastics team that stands a chance of putting the U.S. back on the podium for the first time since 2008, and their qualifying round looks promising. Particularly between Bucky’s floor and rings, Curt’s vault and high bar, Croz’s pommel horse and parallel bars, and Brady and Alex’s ability to seamlessly fill in the gaps in any event, they look pretty unstoppable right about now. They just have to keep this going for the finals, and hope some of them qualify for individual events and all around.

Bucky and Curt cheer loudly as Croz completes his dismount on parallel bars. The team swarms him as he leaves the apparatus, patting him on the back and telling him he did an amazing job.

“Can’t believe you stole my dismount,” Bucky jokes. Croz had perfectly executed a parallel bars dismount that, in the code of points, was dubbed “the Egan” the year before Bucky’s accident.

Croz laughs and bumps his shoulder against Bucky’s. “You just wish you did it as good as I do.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and ruffles Croz’s hair, saluting his team as he follows their coach to the high bar. He��s the last athlete on their team to finish their final rotation. As he chalks up his hands, bounces from foot to foot and hypes himself up, his eyes skim over the crowd of spectators. It’s nothing compared to the crowd for women’s gymnastics, especially just for qualifications, but it’s something. It’s big enough that he shouldn’t be able to pick out a face unless he knows where to look. 

And yet his eyes are drawn like a magnet to Gale Cleven – and wait, what the hell is he doing here? Blonde hair and a cheerful smile, undoubtedly fresh from Versailles where Bucky knows he was riding dressage for the eventing team earlier today. He’s looking off somewhere in the distance, beyond where Bucky is prepping for his final event. But Marge and Benny are on either side of him, and when Marge sees Bucky looking up at the stands, she excitedly smacks Gale’s arm and shouts, pointing to the apparatus below. Gale’s eyes lock right onto Bucky’s, and he takes a deep breath before he waves and yells, “GO JOHN!” Benny and Marge even join in.

Bucky blows Gale a kiss, and he finds himself honest to god grinning before the high bar for the first time since before his accident. 

The world notices it, too. 

“John looks almost excited about this event for the first time since his comeback,” the commentators are saying on TV. The camera focuses on him as he steps onto the mat next to his coach. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like that’s… Gale Cleven? In the stands. Is that who he’s smiling at? The equestrian athlete.”

The other commentator says “I think you’re right. You know, they’ve been spotted together quite a lot in the last few days. Including at the opening ceremonies.”

The Paris opening ceremonies had been historical, as the first summer games opening ceremony to take place outside of a stadium. The night was straight out of a fairy tale, with colorful lights all along the Seine as athletes stood on boats that traveled down the river at sunset, spectators watching from the sides and from above. They sailed in a 6 kilometer parade that ended right in front of the Eiffel Tower. Some of the equestrian team had been spotted with the men’s gymnastics team on the U.S. boat, all of them orbiting around John and Gale, who were seen laughing and talking, always an arm slung around a shoulder or a hand on a waist. Social media, of course, has been going crazy over those photographs.

So if the media wasn’t interested in John Egan and Gale Cleven as a potential item before, well, they are certainly interested now. 

“John Egan has been very open about his sexuality in recent years,” the first commentator says. “So one definitely has to wonder if there’s something between those two.”

But Bucky doesn’t care about that at the moment.

He raises his arm in salute to the judges, and his coach helps lift him up to the bar. “You got this John,” he says, and then it’s just Bucky and the bar he’s determined not to fear.

He breathes deeply as he swings himself up and around, forcing his focus to narrow to nothing but this moment. No past. No future. Just now. He takes that with him into his first release, a simple straddle. Then he works himself up to a Kolman, a backflip with a full twist. Then a Cassina, the same thing in a laid-out position. The Cassina is the exact release that almost ruined his life. But today he completes it, and he’s on to the next skill, and the next and the next. He can feel his heart beating through his entire being every time his hands seek out the bar, every time he completes a skill and surges into the next.

Somewhere off to the side, he can hear Curt and Croz shouting encouragement at the top of their lungs, as they always do. He can feel the bar gripped beneath his fingertips, and the air rushing by with every swing, every release, every flip. He can feel the exertion in his face and in his arms with every handstand. He can feel the tension in his legs.

But then his body is flipping through the air, his feet are hitting the ground. He’s staring down at them, pressed into the mat with his arms out to the side. He’s done it. 

It’s only qualifying, so he’s far from done here. But he stuck his dismount perfectly, not even a step off balance, and his teammates are going wild because they know how much every little success means this year. Bucky salutes the judges before yelling “LET’S GO!” as he pumps a fist in the air and walks off the mat, where he’s greeted with slaps on the back and tight hugs from team USA. 

Curt and Croz practically lift him into the air in their excitement, and Bucky’s eyes catch Gale’s again. He’s right in the front of the grandstand with Marge and Benny, and they’re on their feet, waving their arms in the air as they celebrate this small victory right along with him. 

–

“Are you okay?” Gale asks later that night. Bucky has been quiet for several minutes now, rubbing absently at his left lower leg and knee as he stares off into space. It’s a couple of hours after qualifications ended, and they’re in Gale’s room, Benny having gone out with some of the other equestrian team members for the evening. Gale is sitting on the floor next to his bed, his back against the wall, so Bucky can sit comfortably on the bed. Damn cardboard.

Bucky nods at Gale and tries to give a reassuring smile that falters at the edges. “Yeah, my leg is just a little sore I guess.”

He doesn’t miss the way Gale freezes, just for half a second. The way his eyes flick to Bucky’s left leg, the way he nervously licks his lower lip in concern. Fuck.

“You watched the video didn’t you,” Bucky asks. He groans when Gale stays quiet, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “I should’ve told you not to look it up.”

He shouldn’t have let Gale search for that terrible video that has no business being anywhere online. That Bucky tries with every fiber of his being to forget exists because, if he doesn’t, he might be masochistically drawn to watching it himself. And that is the last thing he needs.

But they showed it on the news when it happened. The whole gymnastics world has seen it. Everyone who cares to watch it has seen it. The whole world witnessed his downfall in disgusting clarity. And with the Olympics now, it’s circulating yet again. 

It gives curious and sadistic spectators a front row seat to the moment that almost destroyed John Egan’s career. He was at the World Gymnastics Championships in the UK in November 2022. High bar was his last event; he was so close to a world medal. But then the unthinkable happened. His hands sought out the bar at the end of a Cassina, a skill he’s been doing for years now, and all of a sudden, the bar just snapped in half. Bucky vividly remembers the sensation of his heart plummeting in his chest, the air whipping past his face too fast too fast too fast, the stunned silence around him as if everything was happening in slow motion. And then an explosion of pain that made his vision go white before there was just nothing.

The video shows him hurtling through the air off of the broken bar, landing in an ugly heap with a crunch and a blood curdling scream that supposedly came out of his own mouth. His leg can be seen twisted at awful angles as he lay unconscious on the mat, crumpled like a rag doll, as if he were nothing more than a sack of potatoes that had been tossed to the ground. Everything was too still, everyone too shocked to move. 

Then suddenly the world remembered that it was supposed to keep turning. His coach, who would torment himself for months over whether there was any way he could’ve stopped this from happening, rushed to him, followed by Curt and Croz, who would rarely leave his side through his whole recovery. Medics pushed through them all, saying they needed space. They tried to wake him up, tried to find signs of life. They lifted his limp body onto the stretcher. The crowd murmured nervously as they watched, wondering if they’d just witnessed the end of a record-breaking career.

Bucky doesn’t remember any of that, though. He doesn’t remember anything between the excruciating pain immediately following his premature dismount and waking up, still in excruciating pain, in a white hospital room. He’d hit his head somehow during the fall, knocking him out for two straight days. It was a miracle, they said, that he didn’t have any brain damage. But the same could not be said about his leg. He’d fractured his tibia and destroyed just about everything in his knee that there was to destroy. 

The surgeon told him he may never do gymnastics again. 

He practically spat in the surgeon’s face.

Because Bucky doesn’t know who he’d be without gymnastics. He doesn’t want to know. 

“I would’ve looked it up either way,” Gale says quietly.

“Why? I knew it would only scare you.”

“I don’t know,” Gale admits. He looks back up at Bucky, his eyes worried. “Everyone keeps talking about your comeback. Back at the top again after a career-ending injury. They talk about how awful it was. I needed to know what they meant… I couldn’t stand not knowing.”

“You won’t be able to stand knowing, either,” Bucky insists, picking at the fabric of his tee shirt to keep his fingers from shaking.

Gale frowns. “I’m not the one that lived it.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and looks Gale in the eye. “I don’t talk about it much.”

“I understand.”

“It was… it was a long process. Getting here again.” 

And then Bucky does something he never does. He tells Gale about what it took, what it cost him. He doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s a need for Gale to know him, that same aching need that he’s felt the last several days. Or maybe it’s just a need for someone to hear this story that he only ever shoves down, down, down where it can’t hurt him anymore. 

He tells Gale about the pain – physical and emotional – of destroying your body and your career at the same time. He tells him about the physical therapy, the occupational therapy, the weeks and weeks he spent just trying to walk again. About the way Curt and Croz refused to let him push them away, how they stuck by his side and went through all of the physio with him no matter how insufferable he could be, no matter how angry at the world he got. He talks about the months spent with a sports psychologist trying to stop being afraid, and how he still talks to the guy sometimes to keep his head level when the anxiety picks up again. 

He tells Gale about how excruciating it was trying to train again, trying to get his body to listen to his brain again. Trying to push through the pain just enough to keep going, but not enough to break. And how utterly humiliating it was at times, being in his old gym with his Olympian teammates but being unable to perform and land skills that once were simple. He talks about how he felt so much gut-wrenching guilt at the thought of letting his late sister down, as absurd as he knows that was. And he tells Gale about how he bailed out in a panic his first several times back on a high bar, flipping into the foam pit that was mercifully below him. He explains the slow, aggravating process of trusting himself again, and accepting the fact that he can’t trust anything but himself and the people close to him in this crazy, unfair world. 

He doesn’t even remember how he got there, but by the time Bucky has run out of words, he’s on the floor with Gale. He’s letting himself hide away in Gale’s strong arms, which are wrapped tightly around him, one hand on his back and the other cupping the back of his head. He’s curled into Gale’s side with his head tucked against his shoulder, and he’s fighting to make sure he doesn’t start crying all over this man’s shirt.

After learning about how hard Bucky has pushed himself, how unrelenting he’s been in his recovery, a part of Gale wants to say please don’t hurt yourself. But he knows he has no right. He knows firsthand that those words are empty. When anyone says it to him, a quiet plea to be careful, slow down, he laughs and tells them that’s not how horseback riding works. He does what he can to be smart, be safe. But in the end, his control stops at a blurry horizon where Lady Luck begins. He loves his sport, and he knows John loves gymnastics in the same exact way. It’s who they are, simple as that. 

So instead he rubs Bucky’s back, whispers to him that it’s alright, holds him tight as if Gale alone can protect him from the world. He gently kisses Bucky’s temple, and when Bucky pulls away at last, Gale pats his knee. “Come here, let me try to do something about that leg.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at him, motioning questioningly to his bad leg. Gale nods and makes a shooing motion with his hand. “Yep. Scoot back, let me see.”

Bucky does as he’s told, leaning against the bed frame so that his leg is in Gale’s lap. Gale shoves up the leg of Bucky’s sweatpants, and then there’s surprisingly strong, warm hands on his skin, working at the sore muscles in his lower leg and around his knee. 

“Oh fuck,” Bucky groans, letting his weight collapse against the side of the bed.

Gale smirks at him. “What? Is it that surprising that I can give a massage?” he asks. Bucky shrugs, and Gale shakes his head at him. “I’m a horseback rider. My body’s been acting like it’s 45 since I was 20.”

“I didn’t know it was that hard on the body,” Bucky admits. 

Gale laughs mirthlessly as his palm presses up the side of Bucky’s leg, damn near making him moan again. “It is,” Gale explains. “People who don’t ride never really notice how hard the rider has to work. How much stress and strain it puts the body through. Not to mention the way horses can throw you around like you’re nothing.”

“Have you ever been hurt?” Bucky asks. “Badly?”

“I have,” Gale says easily. He looks at Bucky with a wan smile. “Not as bad as you. But I’ve broken my wrist, had my fair share of concussions. I took a hard fall when I was about 18, right after I started college. Fucked up my back real bad. It was one of those injuries where not even the doctors were sure what went wrong, you know? MRIs showed what looked like a stress fracture, but it was strange for that to happen from blunt force trauma like that. I’ve had chronic back pain ever since. Couldn’t even breathe without pain for weeks. I lived on borderline dangerous doses of Advil for months.”

Gale sighs, flexing his shoulders like he’s trying to stretch out his upper back. “It still bugs me sometimes. There’s a lot of simple things I can’t tolerate so well anymore, or that I have to be careful about.”

Bucky blinks at him, tensing like he’s about to move away. “Then why the fuck am I making you sit on the floor?”

Gale shushes him and pats his leg gently before he keeps working at it. “It’s fine. You deserve all of this after today. I can sit on the floor for a little while, I won’t break.” Bucky gives him a skeptical look and Gale rolls his eyes. “Stop that. I’m okay, Bucky. Really.”

So Bucky relents, if nothing else because he needs the magic in Gale’s hands not to give up on him now. He’s curling his fingers, seething through his teeth when those hands hit a particularly sore spot, gasping when Gale sets to work on a knot in the muscle. “That’s- that’s really good,” Bucky grits out. “Keep doing that.”

Gale is watching him carefully, no doubt amused by the actually obscene sounds coming out of his mouth right now, but Bucky doesn’t even care. He just focuses on those perfect hands, those long fingers, so sure and so deliberate and so soothing, as they work up and down his lower leg. He feels like those hands might be able to single-handedly take away every bit of pain he’s ever felt. And the way Gale’s attention is so wholly on him is intoxicating and endearing at the same time. Gale Cleven could slap him in the face and Bucky would say thank you, but here he is, taking care of Bucky without a second thought, like he actually means something to him. Bucky really doesn’t have the wherewithal right now to sort out why that’s such a turn on. 

“I’m sorry I missed your ride today,” he says instead.

Gale shrugs as his hands move up around Bucky’s knee, his touch turning gentle around the fragile joint. “It’s not a big deal.”

Except it is. “I’ll be there for cross country,” Bucky promises. “Maybe even part of jumping before I have to get back to the stadium for finals.”

“It’s fine, John,” Gale reiterates. “I don’t expect you to be there. And cross country is boring in person anyways. Spectators basically stay near a single jump for most of it, since the course is so long. You’d see a lot more of me if you just watched online.”

“Oh I’ll be there,” Bucky says resolutely, even though he’s admittedly terrified at the prospect of Gale hurtling down a cross country course, flying over jumps on the back of a strong-willed animal. “I would’ve been there today if it didn’t clash with my schedule.”

“Maybe I’ll give you an exhibition ride sometime.” Gale’s fingers stop working at Bucky’s knee, and he smooths one hand down Bucky’s muscular leg.

Bucky tracks the movement with hungry eyes, busy thinking about what else he knows those hands can do. “I know you’re joking,” he says. “But I’d like that.” 

When Gale glances up at him again, Bucky is biting at his lower lip, looking right at him with such earnestness that Gale can’t help but blush. “Okay, we can do that.”

“You know.” Bucky glances over his shoulder at the bed. “I’ve been hearing reports that these things are sturdier than we thought this time around. They supposedly hold up well to… extracurriculars.”

Gale tilts his head thoughtfully, his eyes flicking from Bucky to the bed and back. “Is that so?”

Bucky nods, biting his lower lip, teasing. So Gale lets Bucky’s pant leg fall back down to his ankle again, and Bucky crawls forward until he’s right in front of Gale. In one smooth motion, he practically scoops Gale into his arms and settles him on the bed, hovering over top of him. The bed frame holds. Gale grins up at him, his hand reaching up to stroke Bucky’s cheek, and Bucky’s hand settles underneath Gale’s shirt, finding its home on the side of his waist where it’s decided it belongs. 

“Maybe I can do this for you sometime,” Bucky offers. “You know, the massage.”

Gale nods, his cheeks flushed. “Yeah. The massage. Of course.” Then he pulls Bucky down into a desperate kiss.

---

---

Next part

Bucky's injury is in part based on Brody Malone, who is making his comeback this year after suffering a similar leg injury off high bar just over a year ago. I am heavily rooting for him going into gymnastics trials this weekend! If you're interested in what a high bar routine is like, watch his amazing US Championships routine here.

(Gale's back injury is loosely based off personal equestrian experience ✌)

[aclowntiny]

Hello 👋 I really love your writing like very very much 😊 ❤ 💖 if I can request can I ask for Ateez first "I love you " moment?? Like who said it first and the reaction ?? It's okay if you didn't though , i just want to tell you that you're amazing 🤗

Absolutely you can! Thank you so much love, that literally means the world to me 🥰🥰🥰 making things that people enjoy is my number one goal & hearing this is why I keep going 🥹 (also, I want one of those pearl teddy bears so bad 🥺 where's my man at)

First 'I Love You' With Ateez (Gender Neutral)

Hongjoong

It was date night. Nothing fancy, just a night in, but with a boyfriend like Hongjoong, even that was one of the most beautiful evenings you could imagine.

He squared off one of his building's balconies, draping the whole thing in fairy lights. He gathered an assortment of the most delicious hors d'oeuvres he could find, laid them out like art on a little table for you too, and finished it off with some of your favorite dessert from a little corner bakery you two had been dying to try.

You ate, you talked, just catching up on your days and your goals, Hongjoong’s free hand occasionally traveling across the table to run affectionately over the arm you had rested there. It brought a shy smile to your face each time, which brought a proud one to his in turn.

When your meal was finished and your conversation had lightened, Hongjoong rose from his chair, crossing your little paradise to a speaker, which he turned on to play some music. He made his way back to where you sat, stopping right next to your chair and extending his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

How did you get so lucky? “Of course,” you breathe, placing your hand in his.

He pulls you up, steadying you by the small of your back as his other hand slides out to hold yours. The music is soft, intimate as you sway together and gaze into each other’s eyes. Several songs pass like that, each blending into the other as Hongjoong draws your focus, expertly turning and dipping you, even stealing a kiss on one of them.

Finally, as one song ends, he speaks again. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Of course,” you whisper, daring not to break the fairy-lit magic of the night.

“I’m so glad you’re mine,” he says, and that’s when you know the magic will never break, not when you’re here with the man of your dreams, “you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. My hear, my muse. I love you, (y/n).”

Not a thought is needed before you reply that you feel the same, that you truly are his and only his. If you had any doubts, the smile he gives you shatters them completely, replacing them with the same butterflies he’s always made you feel as he pulls you flush against him. You’re barely dancing now, but neither of you care.

“What a beautiful night,” you gush.

Hongjoong turns, a hand tilting your chin towards him as he leans in all the way. “It’s trying to compete with you.”

Seonghwa

What did Seonghwa do to deserve someone like you? Someone who made him tea, sat with him while he built legos and recorded his ASMR, someone who gifted him with the greatest, most natural and unadulterated laughter accidentally recorded into said ASMR mic, someone who sent him the cutest pictures with encouraging words every day just because he was on your beautiful mind. How lucky.

With you, he felt...light. Euphoric. Like he was shown more and more sides of a big heart every day that you took care of him. And darn it if he wasn't going to be the one to take care of you, too.

He claimed the dorm kitchen, shooed any potential intruders out. Googled all your favorite things, made sure he wasn't missing a single bit of it. Called you and told you to be over for a surprise, that he couldn't wait to see you.

And tell you how much I love you, he wanted to say, but that was to come later. For now, he had work to do.

You arrived just as he finished, making the way toward the kitchen with widening eyes, first at the smell, then at the sight of Seonghwa laying out your favorite meal at the table, which was centered by a vase of your favorite flowers. With an exclamation of endearment you shuffled across the kitchen, jumping into his arms for a big hug.

"I know today was a long day," he told you, "so I wanted to surprise you. Make sure you didn't have to lift a finger for dinner after it all."

"Seonghwa, this is amazing," you breathed, making him smile with the way your body visibly relaxed, "I- I-"

"I love you," both of you said at the same time.

You felt your eyes widen, saw Seonghwa's do the same. Your hands shot up to your face in surprise, fell to reveal the big, gorgeous smile he loved being the cause of. Reaching out his arms once more, he pulled you into his chest, holding you gently there against his beating heart.

"Thank you."

"You're the one who did all this, I should be thanking you," you protested, though you made no effort to leave his embrace.

You feel his head shake on top of yours, the motion ruffling your hair a bit. "No, thank you," he insists, "you've just given me a much better gift. Now, what say we enjoy some dinner, hm?"

Yunho

Yunho knows he loves you when even a text from you changes the trajectory of his day. He knows he loves you by the way you know him so well, remembering every little thing about him. He knows he loves you by the way your smile is the first and last thing he wishes he could see every day.

He knows he loves you, now all that's left is to tell you. He asks you out to a nice dinner, and beyond your pleasant surprise at the proposed fancy outing, you don't seem to catch on to anything special. Yunho's just glad you can't feel how rapidly his heart is beating, even though he knows it's all anticipation. After all, once the decision came to his head, it was as natural as breathing, one of the easiest he's made- it feels right.

You walk into the restaurant dressed to the nines and the sight takes his breath away. It seems to show, and he's glad, because as his eyes land on you you give him the biggest smile, fondness and gratitude already present in your eyes. Yunho wants those things to always stay there when you look at him.

When he tells you he already ordered your favorite appetizer, you clap adorably. When he presents you with the bouquet and the pearl teddy bear, you light up even more, shining brighter than the crystal chandeliers adorning the ceiling.

"Yunho, this is all so wonderful- what is it for?" You finally ask.

He was going to wait until after dessert, maybe even until your goodnight kiss, but he's swimming in the highlights of your eyes and the opulent walls of the restaurant have faded out completely and he can't help himself. The moment is right.

"Because I love you," he replies simply, "no other reason than that."

You take his breath away again, this time by launching yourself half out of your seat and into his arms, crushing him in a hug he's happy to reciprocate. You're both warm, you're both giggling, and your scents are pleasantly mingled as you speak again.

"I love you, too."

Yeosang

Yeosang wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he was sure why he was doing it. Shifting the box in his hands, he reached one up to ring your doorbell.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him standing at your door, but your lips immediately curled into a smile that went straight to Yeosang’s heart. If he had needed any more encouragement, he’d just gotten it. “Surprise!” He exclaimed sheepishly.

Your eyes travelled from his down to the white box he was holding. “What’s this?”

“It’s a surprise,” he teased, “you have to let me in to find out~”

“Oh, right,” you chuckled, stepping out of the way, “I’m sorry. Please, come in, go set it down! I hope it wasn’t heavy.”

Even if it had been, it would have been well worth it. Your adorable look of surprise, the way your home smelled just like you- even if that was weird to say, it was true and Yeosang loved it. Resting the box on your table, he swiveled to face you, to reach for your hands at your sides.

“I wanted to share this with you,” he told you, nodding at the box when you gave him a confused slight frown.

“Alright,” you nodded back, eyes not leaving his, “what is it?”

Fumbling toward the table, his hands found the top of the box. “I hope you love it!” With a proud smile, he unveiled the most beautiful cake you’d ever seen. Pink and white ombré frosting was piped along the top and bottom and dotted with heart-shaped sprinkle. Edible glitter dusted the white top, which had gorgeous calligraphy swirled on top. I love you, the words read.

Your hands just shot up in surprise. “Yeosang, I… this is beautiful. It’s really for me?”

“Well, as long as I get a piece too,” he replied, giggling as he pulled you in closer by your hands, feeling his heartbeat pick up the longer you went without addressing the words, “what do you think?”

You finally peeled your eyes off the cake, and when they fell on him it gave him all the answer he needed, the dull thud within him crescendoing into a soar. Your gaze darted between the loving stare he’s giving you and a bit lower, sliding along his profile eagerly.

“Well, I didn’t prepare a cake, but hopefully this’ll do as an ‘I love you’,” you answered, one of your hands leaving his to find the small of his back, bringing him as close as you could get him as passionately kissed him.

He giggled again when you separated, one of his hands gently playing with your hair.

“You’re sweet,” you whisper, doe-eyed at Yeosang’s affection.

He leans in to press his lips to your cheek. “Speaking of sweet…”

“Yes, we can cut the cake now.”

San

Complete and utterly lost in you- that's the only way to describe how San feels. There are city lights and a gorgeous breeze and the smell of the sea all on different horizons of his little orbit, but they're barely perceptible in the face of your laugh, those eyes that San doesn't know what he did to earn such looks from. All he knows is that he wants to do it again and again in this life and the next.

You're warm at his side, an arm tucked in his as you stroll along the beach, another successful date in the books. You're telling him everything you love about the sea, how powerful it feels to you, how close to the very forces of nature themselves, and all San can think of is how you're describing is how his heart feels in the presence of yours. He can't keep this to himself.

"I know that feeling," he says.

You smile and his heart bursts all over again, his arm tightening just so around yours. Just enough to pull you a little closer.

"Right? The ocean is such a magnificent creation, it's just-"

"No," he shakes his head, "it's something far more beautiful."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Oh? What's that?"

"You. You're far more magnificent than the sea could ever hope to be, and my heart feels just as drawn to the waves of yours."

Your free hand rises to your chest. "Wow. Is that from a book?"

He shakes his head again. "Just from me to you. Too much?"

"Oh, uh, no," you stutter, an adorable, just-barely-visible in the night's dim light flush dusting your cheeks, "I just wasn't expecting you to get so poetic."

"Neither was I," San laughs, reaching up to pinch your warming cheek, "but being in love makes us do funny things."

"It sure does," you agree, "like this."

Your free hand rises again, this time to smooth his hand over your cheek, holding it there as you kiss him. San releases his grip on your arm to pull you in closer by the waist, wasting no time in returning the passionate seaside kiss.

"No, seriously," he tells you as you pull apart, forehead resting on his, "I really love you."

Your gaze falters a little, but you smile wider and echo his sentiments as his hand finds yours, pressing them in their joined state over his heart.

Mingi

"Don't you want to finish the movie?"

Your whispered words tickle Mingi's cheek and the side of his neck as you lean down to his horizontal form. You two have a love seat to yourselves as Ateez hold their movie night, the film about halfway through now. Mingi, though, has just laid down, his head having drooped against you a few times before he stopped fighting it.

"Mm-mm," he shakes his head against the love seat cushions, snaking his arms against your waist to pull you closer into him, "you're comfortable. Better than the movie."

Having already been half laying down, you surrender, dropping completely to your side to assume the position as Mingi's little spoon. As soon as you've done that, though, he turns you around in his arms to face him, nestling his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder. Warmth rises to your cheeks at the feeling of his breath, leading you to exhale in a little chuckle as you reach around to hold Mingi, too.

"Well, good night, then," you tease, tilting your head to close your very tiny gap with a peck on his lips.

"Good night. I love you."

You briefly stiffen in his hold, leaning back to see if he's fallen asleep already, just saying whatever in his stupor. The moment you scan him, though, his eyes open wide, one falling shut in a wink. Suppressing a giddy laugh, you just smile, settling back down and snuggling even closer to him.

"I love you, too, Mingi."

Wooyoung

The stars hang high in the sky and everyone is fading fast save for Wooyoung and you, his other half. His better half, if you ask the rest of Ateez. The one who manages to simultaneously pump him up and calm him down.

Except right now, there's no calming him down-it's the last song of the night, but despite its many predecessors, your boyfriend is as hyped as if he'd just picked up the microphone. Grinning, you glance at the screen, expecting a party song, so surprise flits across your face when you see Wooyoung choose a song from a musical. He points at you with a wide smile, beginning an ostentatious, goofy comedic love song that has the other seven guys cringing and groaning.

You for your part just pick up a microphone and give it right back to your boyfriend, matching every sweep of his arm, finger heart, and ridiculous miming gesture as if you two had coordinated. He turns it into a skit, your singing melting into a very corny sung conversation that has your audience shaking their heads in amused exasperation. Only those two, you see their mouths saying, and that gives you a rush of joy. They may be embarrassed, but to you, it shows you that there's something special about you and Wooyoung.

He feels it too, clearly, as he grabs you and dips you the moment you finish your thought, sending a chorus of cheers soaring over you two.

"That was so much fun," he leans down toward you.

"It was," you agree with a big smile, gazing into his eyes.

"We play so well together," he continues, leaning even further.

"We do," you all but sigh, anticipation fluttering in your eyelashes.

"I love you." Your noses are almost touching now.

A fiery wave of joy crashes over you and you can't help yourself any longer, your hand finding the back of his head to tangle in his black locks and pull him all the way into you. Even more tired exasperation and mock-disgust sounds off around you, but beneath the dim purple light of the room and the dreamy red haze cresting your heart, you can't care less. They get a show.

"I love you, too," you whisper as your lips separate, Wooyoung's hand on your back gently raising you to your feet, where he wraps both arms around you.

Jongho

"Thank you for agreeing to this," Jongho says, turning to face you, to get a look into your eyes.

"Agree to this?" You snort. "You make it sound like some sort of procedure, not a date."

A smile rises to his lips. Alright, he'll give you that one. It did sound a little funny. "Well, not everyone enjoys going on hikes."

"With you, someone could sit us down and read us the phone book and I'd still have a good time."

Jesting as they are, something about your words strikes a cord deep within Jongho's fluttering chest. They're playful, but they boil down to a very specific essence what your presence is to him: comforting, the highlight of his day, easy, the joy of being in his element no matter what the situation, what went wrong, simply because it was you.

Should he say something?

"Well, come on!" Before he can, your fingers are intertwining with his, pulling him forward along the trail. Laughing, he picks up the pace behind you, stopping just as suddenly when you reach the trail sign and take a selfie with him.

Life with you is an adventure. Ugh, that sounds corny, Jongho thinks, but it's so true and he has to admit he loves it. No, not it. You. He loves you.

The hike is quiet, peaceful for the most part. Every now and again, one of you will point out a butterfly or a bent tree, stop to take a picture, crack a joke. No pretense, just the bracing air, the sunshine, and your hand in his. Jongho's heart is beating a little faster, but you aren't on a strenuous enough trail for him to play that off as exertion.

Soon enough, you reach the top, the trail bottoming out into a meadow of waving grasses dotted with adorable little wildflowers. Jongho stops to take it all in, but you run headfirst in, frolicking like a deer set free, and he can't help but smile and give a fond shake of his head as he follows you. When he reaches you, you've picked a mini bouquet of the tiny pink and yellow flowers, holding it so gingerly, clearly having the time of your life if your expression of pure joy is anything to go off of. Once again, it's like cupid's arrow is shooting straight into his heart.

"Isn't it cute? ...Jongho?"

He'd been staring off into space. Heck, he still is. You're not used to the dreamy look in his eyes, and it still feels new to him, but it takes him over anyway. "I love you."

Your jaw drops. "What?"

He blinks, snaps out of his love-drunk state a little, but all that does is return the words to his chest with a new fire. "I love you," he says, this time more loudly, firmly. Proudly.

You giggle, clutching your flowers a little tighter, still a bit giddy yourself. "And somewhere so beautiful, too?" Your eyes are shining more than ever, full of more love than Jongho had ever seen them shoot his was. "I love you, too. So much!"

The moment you turn around, he's ready to catch you, pulling you up from your hug until your feet lift off the ground and you give a little squeak of surprise. It's all a little corny, a little sappy, and yet as your foreheads, and then your lips, meet, all Jongho can think is how perfect it all is, how all he wants is to feel you in his arms.