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winter-spark · 11 months

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CitoIta and Kingdom Hearts Headcanons

Because I like Kingdom Hearts and I like them and they are gamers

(I say CitoIta but honestly, it’s just because it’s about Citron & Itaru, the ship is kinda vague here lol. Like it’s probably optional to read it that way at this point)

(There’s an attempted bonus section about Banri at the end, that’s why I tagged him.)

{Opening in new tab is strongly advised. I used bullet points with sub bullet points. UPDATE: I personally struggled with opening this in a new tab on the blog where all the subpoints are properly formatted, so I pinned it so you can go right to my blog and find it easily if you want. Also I moved the Intro below the Keep Reading link for space.}

Keep Reading (I manually put this one so it would hopefully always open in a new properly formatted tab)

In this post, scientifically backed by my memory, understanding of the characters and other things (eg: feelings, unlisted headcanons, & my understanding of types of people in fanbases/the kh fandom, minus shippers, I’m not touching that... here, I might consider it in the future, probably not but maybe), I will go over basics like how many games they’ve played and their fave games, trios, characters by groups, and moments. Also, there are conversations and little tidbits about how it fits into their world. I tried to pick a favorite battle but note that they probably have more than one those are just notable ones that I thought were worth mentioning. There will be KH spoilers if you’re someone unfamiliar/not caught up with it.

Citron

Has not played every game but has looked into the story and watched playthroughs of some of the other games.

Hasn’t played the games he has played in order,

Might not have caught up on the story in order but if so that’d be more because he was looking for specific characters and info

Has definitely played BBS, Days, CoM, UX, & Dark Road.

Might’ve played (one, two or all three of the following, idk) DDD, Re:Coded, KH

Has definitely not played KH2,

Likes to find/delve into theories

Read the Sleeping Realm Theory

to Itaru, because he thought it sorta sounded interesting but told Citron he wasn’t reading all that.

I don’t know any other names of long theories besides SRT but you can bet your bottom dollar that Citron has read(or listened to) them for sure

Wants very much to try Sea Salt ice cream

Considering figuring out how to make Wayfinders

UX Union:

Anguis

and has never switched unions

Favorites:

Game: Birth By Sleep

Trio: Keyblade Knights

Lost Trio is a close second

Character from each group:

Destiny: Sora

Sea Salt: Axel

Keyblade Knights: Aqua

Twilight Town: Hayner

Lost Trio: Namine

but Vanitas is a close second

Organization 13(minus Sea Salt): Xemnas, Zexion/Ienzo or Demyx(probably depends on the day)

Foretellers: Luxu

Xkids: Brain

& He gets bonus points for dressing up his Chirithy

DR Underclassmen: Vor

DR Upperclassmen: Vidar

Xehanort: Xemnas (?)

I know I listed Xemnas as one of his faves in Organization 13 but genuinely I feel it’s a v love hate relationship, where the love is that he can and definitely would(is like two seconds away from it) do an analysis on Xemnas’s actions/behaviors/character

Boss Battle(that he definitely 100% played):

BBS Aqua ft. Terra vs Terranort

Opening:

Birth by Sleep 0.2 A Fragmentary Passage

Moments/Tidbits:

Involving Fave Trio:

All three:

KH3

Terra gaining control and saving Aqua and Ven

Aqua:

BBS

Doing her job but still standing up for Stitch

Giving up everything to try and save Terra

BBS 0.2

Knowingly chasing after illusions of her friends because she misses them so much.

Terra:

BBS

Gaining hope from meeting Cinderella

Standing against Eraqus to protect Ven

Ven:

BBS:

Running away with Stitch, lowkey being a space criminal

DDD:

Putting his armor on Sora to protect him from the darkness

Involving someone other than Fave Trio:

KH1:

Kairi protecting Sora/saving him from being a Heartless

Days:

that Sora just subconsciously gave some of his memories to Xion because she didn’t have any

DDD

Neku telling Joshua Shibuya is his home too

Sora going off to thank the Dreameaters

Commonly Quoted(? idk what else to call these, i specifically mean the ones you find in compilations and stuff) Lines from the English Translation: “[’Me? I’m already half Xehanort'] ‘That’s nuts...’”

Bracketed the first part bcuz I think he uses the second part as a reaction sometimes, same infliction and everything

It’s at the point that Tsuzuru’s familiar with it, against his wishes(If Citron says the first part Tsuzuru might accidentally properly respond, that’s how deep in he is, he’s not even sure who Xehanort is(but he does think that’s nuts))

Final things of note:

Is excited for Atlantis in KH2

Enjoys the attractions in KH3:

Loves that Dark Aqua could be beat w/ a pirate ship

Loves that there was a roller coaster in the Keyblade Graveyard

Favorite Summons:

KH: Tinkerbell & Bambi

KH2: Stitch

KH3: Ariel & Meowwow

Often forgets he has items but has gotten really good at blocking and healing because of it

Very good with magic

Itaru

Has played just about every game in release date order,

with just about 100% completion on all of them

Is (lowkey, but acts highkey) appalled Citron hasn’t played the games in order, currently planning time for them to play through all the games together

Has read the manga and maybe some of the light novels

Does look at theories sometimes, might even have a few of his own, definitely has his own headcanons

Secretly wishes he could share a Paopu Fruit w/ someone

UX Union:

Vulpeus

There’s a possibility he might’ve tried the other unions at some point but Vulpeus is his main and current union

Favorites:

Game: KH2

Trio: Sea Salt

Character from each group:

Destiny: Currently Riku,

Wants it to be Kairi, but it’s just not, is always excited and ready for Kairi news tho

Was Sora for awhile

Sea Salt: Roxas,

It really is, but he would absolutely main Xion if given the chance

Keyblade Knights: Aqua

Twilight Town: Roxas Olette

though he somewhat feels guilty to Pence as feels like he spent more time with Pence but that Olette is just a tad bit cooler

Lost Trio: Rep,

but Namine’s a close second

Organization 13(minus Sea Salt): Currently Saïx/Isa, but it’s kind of a love hate relationship

There’s also a lean towards Larxene

Foretellers: Ava

Xkids: Skuld

DR underclassmen: Baldr

DR Upperclassmen: Hoder

Yes he cried over their story, no he won’t openly admit it

Chikage did witness it tho

Xehanort: Ansem SoD

Boss Battle (that he definitely 100% played):

Days Roxas v Xion

Opening:

KH2,

not because KH2 is his favorite game but rather it adds to why KH2 is his favorite game

Moments/Tidbits:

Involving Fave Trio:

All Three:

KH3

Their whole battle/reunion

to clarify the Lea Isa scene is a part of that

Roxas:

Days

The scene around the Riku vs Roxas battle

KH2:

Roxas v Sora scene

(I debated between this and the DDD scene. Also I feel like his list of favorite Roxas moment is longer than this but)

Xion:

KH2:

The seashell in the opening... for Xion

Days

Xion getting her own answers and spending time with Namine and Riku

Xion leaving all those seashells for Roxas

Axel:

CoM

Letting Namine go

KH2

Sacrificing himself to save Sora

Involving someone other than Fave Trio:

KH2

Sora and Riku in RoD

Coded:

(Data-)Riku reaching for the moon

Ephemer and Skuld saving Player|Star(light)/bringing them to the new version of the world

KH3 Re: Mind

Playing as Kairi in that boss battle

The fact that Kairi throws her keyblade because she trained with Axel

Commonly Quoted(?) Lines from the English Translation: “Roxas, that’s a stick.”

Final things of note:

Has found all 101 Dalmatians

Has read fanfiction longer than the Sleeping Realm Theory

(which is actually really easy to do, I looked it up and the docs word count is 31,265)

Has his Data-bosses battles on his channel

Proud it only took a couple of tries to beat Yozora (he recorded each try to put his win on his channel)

Uses items all the time, knows when the best time to effectively use items for maximum item usage

“Actual" conversations:

Fave Games:

Itaru: *rambling about some KH2-related topic &/or how he can’t believe Citron hasn’t played 2*

Citron: ooo! Itaru, are you one of those guys who feels Kingdom Hearts peaked at 2?

Itaru: Kingdom Hearts 2 is just an objectively good game, the other games are good too though. KH2 is just, objectively speaking, great. Is it my favorite? Yes, but it’s completely warranted as...

Citron: *smiling as Itaru starts rambling knowing that he’s point two seconds away from going into a 2hr spiel about how KH2 is great*

Itaru: *clears throat catching himself early* A-Anyway, which one’s your favorite?

Citron: Birth by Sleep! I love the ice cream rhythm game :3

Itaru: *understanding that there’s definitely a lot deeper of a reason to that being Citron’s fave* Oh, that’s a good pick. Actually sorta seems on brand for you. Ice Cream Beat is pretty fun.

[Then they boot up Itaru’s copy of BBS and play Ice Cream Beat]

Play Order:

Itaru: So it’s a little late for you to get the full proper experience but we’re gonna play the games in order because it’s really the best way to experience the games.

Citron: Ok, speaking of order and since we’ll get to Birth By Sleep eventually, we both agree that the best way to play the first time is Aqua Terra Ven, yes?

Itaru [has played each route and in varying order, does not quite remember which order he played the game in the first time but is pretty sure it was Terra Ven Aqua]: ...Ven makes a lot of sense to play last...

Citron: Then I am glad we are in agreement. ^^

Itaru: Most people play Aqua last tho--

Citron: Sure chronologically she left Land of Departure last, but story telling-wise *starts talking about why Aqua, Terra, Ven is the best order*

Twewy: (I could do a whole other post on headcanons regarding them playing twewy, it’d maybe be shorter, tho maybe I won’t bcuz I feel like they know more than me lol(I say like Itaru doesn’t know more about KH than me *cries*). If I refer to twewy’s og name wrong here I’m sorry)

Citron: It’s cool that the twewy characters were in DDD. :)

Itaru: Yea. Oh you played subaseka before you met the cast in 3D right?

Citron: :)

Itaru: Right?

[Citron refuses to answer because he thinks leaving Itaru hanging is funnier than a yes or no ever could be]

Ansem SoD as Itaru’s Fave Xehanort:

Citron *three seconds after finding out*: So, is he your favorite because nostalgia as he was the first one you battled or because you think he’s hot?

Itaru: *chokes on being immediately found out because it’s both*

Bonus: Banri & KH Headcanons for no reason other than he also plays games

(With some obligatory Citron and Itaru mentions below because this is their post lol Banri’s not a part of CitoIta. Just to clarify)

Probably has not played all the games

Stares at Itaru whenever he starts talking about secret bosses or hard-to-find treasure chests/secret reports typically until he stops, lists a specific Banri is familiar with or Banri finds a way to shift the conversation. It’s not that he hasn’t come across them he just

doesn’t know which bosses are secret and which aren’t

doesn’t go out of his way to look for treasure chests

Partakes in the memes

Can quote more games than he played honestly, loves those “out of context”/”lines I quote” videos

Has memes saved to his phone

Azami and Taichi borrowed his phone once for picture reasons and Azami was appalled by the Aqua Cinderella meme & the Terra memes (ifykyk)

Probably had Xion’s scream from Days as Sakyo’s someone’s ringtone as a joke (can people set ringtones and ringback tones anymore?) but then he recieved a call from that person in public and was lowkey highkey embarassed so he unset it

He and Citron:

have done a Goofy rendition of Bring Me to Life one time

though Banri sorta begrudgingly participated

At least one Mankai member who was there said he’s not going Karaoke w/ them anymore

are quick to point out or send pictures of “Lucky Emblems” when they see them, it’s almost a contest at this point

Sakyo has asked them to stop sending “lOOk!! a LuCKy emBlem!” in the main chat with a picture of three connected circles, Itaru eggs them on tho

Itaru participates too but he doesn’t have the same luck in seeing them, he is the reason they started tho as in person he pointed one out so later Citron sent a picture of one to show him, so Banri just had to too but he sent two as he already had the pictures and was gonna show them later, so Citron had to find two more to be in the lead and after he found just one more, Banri caught on that they were competing and they spiraled from there

I know logically they don’t appear that often irl but I also know in my heart that it’s happened enough that Taichi, then Kazu and Kumon participated. Now, the rest of Mankai keeps an eye out for them

Between Tsumugi’s picture of flower bulbs leaning together captioned “Does this count as a lucky emblem?” Izumi asking how many points she gets for a random spot on the ground that sorta looks like a lucky emblem & Omi sending a picture of at lighting set up from work saying “ at this angle this sorta looks like a lucky emblem right?” Sakyo’s feeling a little betrayed because each of those were during times when people weren’t actively mentioning them in the chat.

Winter Troupe is the first troupe to all find at least one “Lucky Emblem”

Autumn troupe (jokingly) blame Sakyo for them not being first

UX Union:

Has probably been in a couple, Ursus or Vulpeus most recently

Favorites:

Game: Dream Drop Distance

but would rather tell you he “hasn’t thought about it, maybe 2″

Trio: Destiny,

but might not correct you if you guessed Sea Salt,

Character from each group:

Destiny: Riku

He honestly sorta relates in ways. I’m not gonna get too into it but like yea he feels.

Sea Salt: Roxas

Keyblade Knights: Terra,

but he makes jokes that rag on him a lot so unless you know Banri you would probably think he hates him or just likes to make fun of him. He really does like Terra as a character tho. Feels for him too. But as we know bullying is his love language

Twilight Town: Seifer Pence

Seifer’s a joke fave because of the undeniable proof [they] totally owned [those] lamers (if ykyk)

Lost Trio: Vanitas,

but Rep’s a close second

Organization 13(minus Sea Salt): Larxene & Xigbar

Foretellers: Luxu (?)

Xkids: Player|Star(light)

DR Underclassmen: Xehanort, “but Bragi’s kinda cool, I guess.”

DR Upperclassmen: *hasn’t actually caught up yet, but he likes Helgi’s design*

Xehanort: Young Master Xehanort(YMX)

Itaru says it’s because they’re both brats

Boss Battle (that he definitely 100% played):

KH2 Sora v Sephiroth or DDD Riku v YMX [I couldn’t decide which one to list]

Opening:

KH3

Moments/Tidbits:

Involving Fave Trio:

All Three:

KH2

Kairi “calling Riku tf out” ultimately leading to the reunion

KH3

Riku talking with Rep on the beach, Kairi and Sora sees him sitting there by himself

Sora:

KH1

Sora giving his goofy smile before plunging a keyblade into his chest

KH3

Sora dropping down to protect Riku from Dark Aqua in the nick of time

Riku:

DDD

That Riku just subconsciously became a dream eater

KH3

Riku taking a stand against the heartless despite just about all hope being lost

Kairi:

KH2:

Kairi(and Namine) preparing to fight Saix and the berserker nobodies with their bare hands

KH3 Re:Mind

Kairi getting a surprise attack in on Xemnas

Involving someone other than Fave Trio:

KH3

Yeetus Vanitas

Woody roasting YMX

DDD

YMX & Vanitas spouting “nonsense” at Sora

Lea showing up and Donald & Goofy dropping from the sky, ultimately coming to the rescue

Star ready to square up with the Foretellers

mainly in reference to the Star v Ira speech/scene/fight but the Aced one too

Commonly Quoted(?) Lines from the English Translation: “Mickey it’s Riku, they put bugs in him!” & “Thank you Sora’s heart”

Final things of note:

Always plays on proud mode from the get-go

Not really a completion-ist but does have just about every trophy earned on DDD

Didn’t know you could lose to Yozora in the battle against him

Probably actually more of a Final Fantasy fan than KH, or at least got into KH because the Final Fantasy appearances

Bonus Convos:

Demyx:

Itaru: Yea, I can’t figure out Luxord, for Demyx I’ve seen people guess his name as Myde.

Banri: lol I like the theory that his name is Demyx and he just wandered into the Organization

Citron: That one is funny, but as far as likelyness goes I like to think his name is Demy and they just slapped an x at the end.

Banri: The laziest naming.

Citron: Exactly!

[and then Banri and Citron start talking about Demyx and it somehow leads them to talking about Goofy’s “death” in KH2 and now they’re talking about KH memes and jokes and Itaru just wanted to know if they had any thoughts on Luxord’s name.]

Vanitas vs Aqua:

Banri: *(possibly somewhat jokingly) insinuates Vanitas is as strong but probably stronger than Aqua*

Citron: *gasp* No!! He is not.

Banri: Really? Then how come he almost took Aqua out?

Citron[genuinely loves Vanitas]: He is a rat! He cannot beat Aqua in a fair fight!

Itaru: I believe he means brat.

Citron: No!! I mean rat, feral ferret child! Can only beat Aqua after biting her and giving her rabies! And even then, she still has at least a week to destroy him.

Itaru: lol that’s quite the metaphor.

Banri: I... *got lost* ???

Itaru: He’s saying Vanitas can only use dirty tricks to even get close to beating Aqua.

Banri: ???

Citron: If Vanitas could beat her he wouldn’t have to result to tricks like firing at Ven, which she was already off her A-game then mind you. But honestly, if Vanitas can’t even get close to beating Terra what hope does he have to actually beat Aqua. I can vouch that he can’t beat Terra. I beat the Terra v Xehanort and Vanitas battle by whacking Vanitas around. It was really easy. Vanitas has only beaten Ven in a fair fight. He’s not nearly as strong as Terra and Aqua. It’s demonstrated through their elements, really. Vanitas is fire...

Banri: *stressed, wasn’t expecting a whole lecture, looks to Itaru for help*

Itaru: *nodding along listening to what Citron has to say*

So yeah those are some of my headcanons involving KH and CitoIta (and Banri with minor Mankai mentions.) If anyone wants to do Taichi(who idk could play already, while I haven’t picked any out I know what type of moments would be his faves, I just can’t figure out yet if he prefers characters he relates to or characters he thinks are cool/want to be like) or Kumon (who I’d feel would want to start after seeing them enjoy it, bet Banri and Citron would have him play chronologically by timeline rather than release order “for science”) or any other characters, really, I’d gladly read it. I can see Taichi & Kumon playing KH but I don’t feel like I know them well enough to do this with them lol. I’m not even sure I know Banri well even to this with him but I attempted it lol. If there’s any questions about my decisions I might answer them, some are easier to put into words than others though.

Anywho, I dunno how to end this post tbh. Ship CitoIta, Play Kingdom Hearts. idk.

Thanks for reading all of my nonsense lol.

#(Kh & A3!)#a3!#Citron a3 #Itaru Chigasaki #Banri Settsu #I put a lot of thought into this actually #even the ones that don't have extra notes w/ them #okay I also projected a bit but that doesn't change anything #but I didn't project that much bcuz how did I not find a reason to make any of their fave Ven? like???#long post #headcanons #act addict actors #would you believe if i said there was more i considered mentioning but decided not to #bcuz there was lol #but some things were difficult to decide #maybe I'll do this with other games i've played #idk we'll see #should i tag this citoita? I mean it's implied citoita #dating? idk. but definitely implied #posting this many months after creation somewhat wishing I had taken notes #I remember some stuff but oof #I'll take notes as I remember more details lol #but look!#I'm putting my Citron thoughts on display #are you proud of me? :3 #part of my motivation to post this is the fact that there is a crossover in kh and a3 fans #and that makes me want to do something with them both #i haven't come up with anything new tho so I just hope this post I started back in April is a solid offering #I have made edits since I initially made the post btw #so it does look a little different from when I drafted it

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shima-draws · 2 years

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Btw I hope you all are doing well!! For some reason I feel like it’s been quiet around here, some of that probably has to do with me not posting as much but the other part is probably bc I’m not in a super active fandom right now so interaction activity is kinda low. Usually when I’m making stuff for bigger fandoms my inbox is blowing up all the time but it’s been pretty quiet for a while lol

Or maybe tumblr’s just dying and I didn’t realize. But from what I’ve heard it seems like people are actually coming here from twitter so like? You think there’d be MORE activity but idk

Anyway. Halloween is coming up. If you all have plans I hope you have fun and stay safe!

#Shima speaks #Idk maybe it’s just my depression talking lol #Or not talking. Haha. I haven’t been posting bc of. Okay you get it.#I can’t tell if my mental health is better or worse now that I’m living with my parents again #Living alone was definitely isolating (I had a roommate but it’s obviously different than being in a house with 3 other people)#but being back home feels almost oppressive now;; It’s weird. My brain can’t really wrap around it yet #I’m sure a lot of this has to do with my diet too LMAO I really need to start working out and eating better. Oof.#ANYWAY hope you all are taking care of yourselves!!

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alys-gay-parade · 3 months

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Hey mutuals, I'm really sad for reasons specified in the tags, so if you could like. Reblog a lot of funny and cute shit that isn't cat related to lift my spirits when I get home from dinner with my dad and brother, I'd highly appreciate it.

#my cat got out last night and hasn't come home #we live in an area where i've SEEN some BIG coyotes #i don't have a lot of hope for her and I'm not doing the best #i've posted to the major lost pet boards in my area so all I can do is wait #it's getting glose to 24 hours since I personally last saw her #my neighbors all spotted her at around 10pm last night so she could be okay #but Oof I'm Not Well

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mad-hunts · 4 months

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@stamour sent🔪 to walk in on my muse standing over a dead body.

there was something wrong with him. and for barton to say that meant that whatever he must've been experiencing was simply too hard to ignore, and/or just that bad — this situation itself definitely being able to fit into both categories. barton had woken up, after all, and the first thing he'd noticed was that he had no freaking clue as to where he was. plus, his head was pounding as if someone was using a jackhammer on it, causing a groan to leave his mouth rather quickly. did he get blackout drunk or something? barton was starting to think that could very much be a possibility until he turned his head.

what was sitting next to him certainly caused any semblance of sleepiness in him to dissipate, as it wasn't a pretty sight at all. the man had been stabbed in the cheek right below the eye and his cornea was leaking blood because of it as well as his cheek. there was also a noticeably big bruise on the other side of his face that was now paler than it should've been (seemingly because of pallor mortis). it didn't scare barton, but it did startle him as he was not expecting to see that at all. what the hell had happened to cause all of this and perhaps more importantly, what did he do? barton tried to remember but failed at first as he rose a hand up to his temple. he was able to feel that there was a semi-deep gash there and then it all clicked.

the man beside him was one of the people that seemed to act as an enforcer to an up-and-coming gang that'd been forming in gotham during the last few months. they'd already made quite the name for themself, since they were known for trafficking weapons in a town that was full of criminals, but the leader of it decided he'd wanted to branch out a little; reaching out to barton in order to buy pharmaceuticals from him that were very illegal and for good reason. but like a lot of these gangs run by quote unquote 'young people,' the leaders of them often got greedy and all of a sudden, they were trying to haggle him for much more of the substance than they'd actually bought from him. things only escalated from there then whenever he refused and now... well, it seemed the rest of them had ran off somewhere to do any combination of licking their wounds, and trying to recoup from all of the losses their dumb boss had caused to be inflicted upon them.

they had met in what was possibly one of the most cliché places possible (an abandoned building) in barton's opinion and so he thought he'd be pretty safe to just leave from here. but as he was getting up, barton heard something clatter behind him. there was another person here, perhaps intending to do some urban exploration, who'd now seen him with the body. barton's gaze went steely whenever they landed on love and he hurriedly reached down to pick up the bloodied knife not too far from the man he'd killed. he cleared his throat, the rotting mask he wore making the sadistic smirk that was forming on his lips somehow even more dreadful.

❝ oof... i bet you're feeling pretty unlucky right about now, huh? well — whatever you do, don't feel sorry for this scumbag right here. he was just about as bad as they come, ❞ barton pointed the knife he held in the other's direction, the metal gleaming in the light, ❝ how would you like a head-start? i mean, before i kill you, too. ❞

#stamour #tw: graphic depictions of violence.#tw: blood.#tw: murder.#the fact that the first thing out of barton's mouth here was 'oof' just proves that he cannot take anything seriously #even when he's killing people which is just so wrong for a LOT of reasons. like uhhh... sir why are you like this 💀 it's not okay at all #but i suppose barton doesn't give a crap whether it is or not because he's EVIL JSJSJ buttt anyway i hope this wasn't too graphic-#or anything bc i truly don't want to make anyone uncomfy on here though if it was a bit too much feel free to let me know because i can-#definitely change some things around about it and i wouldn't mind doing it at all! though i hope you liked this starter my friend #i really appreciate the asks btw!! so thank you for sending them to me #tw: mentions of drug trafficking.

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gloomwitchwrites · 2 days

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Hello, hope you're a having a good day

Could you write something about 141 x reader where the sparring session turns a little too not your usual sparring (if you know what I mean). The reader and them being all sweaty and shit and like the sexual tension that's been there for a while. This idea has been plaguing my mind since forever. Thank youuuu

Haha! Yes! Omg, I love it. Okay, for this, I didn't go full smut. When someone mentions sexual tension, I tend to hyperfocus on that and want to bathe in it. Give me naughty thoughts and flirting-maybe even some actual physical contact that borders on dangerous territory. Give me the yearning! I want to giggle and kick my feet and think about what might happen later.

So, I indulged in that regard! I had lots of fun with this. Thank you so much for sending it in!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141!Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, knife play, grinding, rough kissing, caught in the act, training, naughty thoughts, mutual yearning

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Come on. Come at me.”

Soap rolls his shoulders and then brings his fists up in a fighting stance. He makes a “go on” gestured with his hands.

Every muscle in your body is sore. Tired doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling. But you want to best Soap. He’s been on your ass for weeks now—insisting that the two of you should spar together. It’s not the sparring that makes you warm and tingly but the way he suggests it.

Always leaning in. Standing far too close. Bumping your shoulder with his.

Soap waits, but you’re not sure how to proceed. So far, you’ve been completely unsuccessful. As if knowing all your moves, Soap has dodged each blow and kick, effortlessly taking you down to the mat every time you thinking you’ve ensnared him.

Stealth is more your thing. Creeping around in the shadows. Taking out opponents from afar. A sniper scope is your friend. Hand-to-hand isn’t.

You lunge for him and Soap steps back. Fist missing him, you sidestep and go for a jab in the stomach. Soap slaps your hand away, and you want to yell in frustration.

“Sloppy today,” chides Soap, grinning like this amuses him.

It probably does. He’s one for a good laugh.

This time you feign, and Soap takes it, moving in. You’re ready for him, turning out of his swing to duck beneath and then aim for the face. Soap rises to block, and opens a clear line to his groin.

Fucking beautiful.

Lifting your foot, you don’t tap him hard, just enough for his cheeks to go pink. Soap grunts, and you chuckle.

“Shouldn’t have left yourself—”

With an oof, your back smacks against the tumble mat beneath you. Soaps snags your wrists and pins them above your head. You go to kick out at him, but Soap’s knees are between your legs. He shoves them wider.

You’re completely trapped beneath him.

And in a completely inappropriate position.

From where you’re pinned, you notice the small beads of sweat on his brow and how a few pieces of hair stick to his skin. Though his chest is covered by a shirt, it’s snug, with every muscle on display. Those powerful thighs of his press against yours in such a way that you’re imagining nothing between your bodies.

Would he feel this powerful over you if the two of you were elsewhere? Perhaps, somewhere more private. Somewhere without a tumble mat. Somewhere with a bed.

“Can’t harm the goods, love,” says Soap, his voice husky. You’re not sure if it’s from the close contact or from the tap you gave his crotch.

“Then don’t leave them vulnerable,” you reply, almost not recognizing the sound of your own voice. It too is husky as if dipped in desire.

The middle of Soap’s brow scrunches slightly. His gaze travels downward to linger on your lips and then further still until you sense him admiring more than he is observing.

“Soap—”

His gaze snaps upward. “Johnny,” he corrects. “Think we’re on closer terms.”

“Are we?” you ask, as his hips start to relax.

The press of him against you is apparent, and the hardness there is poking at you. Insistent. And you don’t want to ignore it.

Instead, you press upward, grinding against him.

Soap—no—Johnny, makes a sound in his throat.

One moment you’re under him and then you’re in his lap, the two of you sitting up, staring into each other’s eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, and your hands fists the front of his shirt.

“You—”

“Are we interrupting something?”

You and Johnny turn just as Ghost and Gaz enter the gym. Gaz has a towel draped over his shoulder. The water bottle he holds it half-way towards his mouth before he freezes, gaze locked on you and Johnny.

Ghost cocks his head, arms crossed over his chest.

You’re speechless. Lost. Your mind hasn’t caught up.

But Johnny’s has.

With a twist, Johnny rolls and then lightly tosses you off him as if the two of you were simply practicing and not staring into each other’s eyes.

“You want a go, Lt?” asks Johnny.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“You up for another round?” asks Kyle.

The man is grinning like he could do this all day. You’re sore everywhere—ready to collapse from exhaustion. Hand-to-hand combat is not your thing which is why you’re here in the training room with Kyle.

Yes, you need practice, but you’ve also had your eye on him, admiring him when you think no one is looking. It’s an excuse for some alone time.

“I’d rather eat glass,” you mutter, snatching up your water bottle and drinking the last of it.

“Hate me that much?” he teases.

“So much so that I wanted to spend the afternoon beating your ass.”

Kyle bursts out laughing. He snatches the water bottle out of your hand and aims it at you, squeezing. There’s nothing in it. A few measly drops hit your face and then you lunge for him. Kyle jumps back and extends his arms outward.

“One more round.” He winks. “Come on, love.”

He’s being cheeky, and your blood is pumping.

Kyle tosses your water bottle to the side as you stride forward. His arms go up, and then the two of you are nothing but flying fists and feet. He’s faster, blocking every blow you send his way.

Sweat accumulates on your brow and on the back of your neck, dripping down your spine. You lick your lips, taste the salt from the sweat.

You duck. Swing. Kyle snatches your wrist and twists, pinning your arm behind you. With a sharp jab of your elbow, you nail Kyle in the stomach, freeing yourself.

As you spin to lash out, Kyle is right there, in your space, blocking all movement. You try to step back, to allow space in your next strike, but Kyle rushes in. The two of you are twisted up. Falling. Slamming into the mat on the floor.

You shove and Kyle resists, his strength outmatching yours. With cheek pressed into the mat, you have nowhere to go. You’re completely on your stomach, and all of Kyle’s weight is on you. He breathes heavily, chest heaving. You feel his breath against your skin, and the contact only sends your skin into a shiver.

Your mind drifts, lingering in places it shouldn’t. Worse—Kyle is aroused. His hardness pokes at your ass. But whether he notices or not is unclear.

“You’re improving,” he says.

“I have a good teacher.”

Kyle makes a noise that sounds like agreement. Every muscle is tense, and even Kyle’s hold on you seems laced with something harsh. But then it eases. Softens. His grip loosens enough that you roll onto your side, glancing up at him.

He is so goddamn close. Just a gentle tilt of the head and your lips would meet his. It wouldn’t be that hard. He’s right there.

Kyle blinks, and then his gaze trails downward, lingering on your lips.

“We,” he begins. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

His thumb traces along the side of your throat, and your eyelids flutter with contentment. A little moan escapes you, and you hear Kyle’s sharp inhale.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck it.”

His thumb becomes his whole hand. Holding you in place, Kyle goes all in, claiming your lips with his. It is dominating, and you happily give in to him.

John Price

Your back hits the tumble mat with a sharp slap. The exposed portions of your shoulders and back sting from the contact.

"Again."

Groaning, you push up to a seated position. "We've been at this for hours."

"And you need practice," counters Price.

He's hatless. And shirtless. Only in cargo pants and boots, Captain Price's bare skin glistens with sweat. You won't pretend that the sight of him like this doesn't intrigue you. For months now you've been observing Captain Price in more than just a professional manner. It's hard not to, and the sweat-drenched man before you isn't helping things.

Captain Price runs his fingers through his hair, taking a step back. The casualness to the movement causes your stomach to twist with desire. Your body betrays you, and you have no idea if these feelings are entirely one-sided. Sometimes you think you might gleam a notion of his thoughts, but it always manages to slip through your grasp.

Price offers his hand, and an idea forms.

You extend yours, but don't close the distance. Price is the one that leans forward to do so. It's the perfect opportunity. When your fingers close around his, you tug back, throwing him off balance.

Price tips forward, and you turn to the side as he crashes down to the mat. In one fluid movement, you roll Price onto his back and straddle his stomach.

"Never let your guard down. That's what you always say."

Price's eyes widen slightly before softening. The corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of amusement. It immediately sends heat flaring through you.

"I do," he replies, and it's nearly a coo.

That smirk of his widens into an actual smile, and then it's you on your back and Price straddling. You strike out with an elbow but Price catches your swing, trapping your arms above your head. He bends forward a bit, and it is then that you feel the stiffness against your stomach.

Price makes no move to hide it, and you don’t dare glance downward.

"You need to do better-"

"Captain."

Price immediately recoils, sitting up and releasing your arms. You twist to look behind you, only to find Ghost and Soap standing nearby. Ghost is ever the silent observer, but Soap's head is slightly tilted to the side, the middle of his brow pinched like he's not sure what's happening.

"Meeting starts in five,” says Soap. “Came to find you."

Price coughs and then he's off you, kneeling and offering you a hand again. You don't try to knock him down.

"Just going over some pointers,” replies Price.

"Pointers?" deadpans Ghost and you shoot him a look. He shrugs at you, gaze lingering before moving to his captain.

"Give me ten minutes. Shower. Then I'll be there."

Captain Price gives you a quick glance before walking off with Soap. Ghost crosses his arms over his chest and just stares.

“What?" you snap

"Pointers," he repeats.

"Oh, fuck off, Simon."

He chuckles and turns to follow the two out of the training room.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Your posture is terrible."

"That's very helpful, Lieutenant,” you deadpan.

"Are you sassing me?"

"No."

Simon shakes his head and sighs. “Can’t throw a knife accurately if you’re hunched like a goblin.”

“Goblin,” you mutter under your breath. “Asshole.”

“What was that?”

You clear your throat. “Seems easy, Lieutenant. You just throw the pointy end at the enemy.”

Simon grunts and then grabs your raised arm. "You won't hit anything standing like that."

You resist his pull but you're outmatch when it comes to strength. With one hand on your arm and one on your waist, Simon shifts you into position.

"Like this," he instructs, bringing your arm back. "Firm grip. Feet pointed forward." Simon releases your arm but his hand on your waist remains. "Throw. At the target."

You let the knife fly. It strikes just right of the bullseye.

"Again,” nods Simon.

"Really?"

Simon slowly drops his hand from your waist, the tips of fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

Removing a knife from his boot, Simon flips it end over end. "We could hone your skills a different way."

"What way?"

“Grab your knife and find out.”

Stalking toward the bullseyes, you yank out the knife, joining Simon in the sparring ring. He bends at the knee, crouching into a fight stance. You mimic the movement.

Simon lunges first and you sidestep. But he's quick for such a large man. He moves around and behind you so fast he's almost a blur.

Grabbing your wrist, Simon lightly twists and pins you against his front, the knife tip pointed at your throat.

"Again,” he growls.

Simon lightly shoves you away. You spin. Striking out. He slaps your arm down and raises his own, the knife tip pointed at your throat for a second time.

"Again."

Showing your teeth, you charge at him, barreling into him at the middle. Simon staggers but doesn't faulter. He attempts to toss you off him, but you remain firm, grabbing hold.

This unloads him, his weight toppling with you. The two of you go down. Simon rolls you onto your back, his body pressed to yours, knife at your throat again.

"Better,” he says. “Still needs improvement."

You go to shove him off, but Simon doesn't budge. He remains where he is, and every point of contact is like an electrical spark. Even his face is close, balaclava nearly scratching against your skin. There is not part of him you’re not touching.

Awareness settles in.

Simon is all hardness over you.

"Have any tips you can give me?" you reply.

His gaze slowly lowers to your lips. His hips shift slightly, something stiff poking against your inner thigh.

“I have one,” he murmurs.

Bet I can guess.

“How do you want it?” he continues.

"You're the expert," you reply softly, hooking your leg over the back of his.

It's an invitation, one you aren't sure he'll take.

There’s a brief pause, and then Simon hums in agreement. It’s a pleased sound, one that instantly makes you shiver. Without taking the knife from your throat, he closes the distance, lips pressing against yours through the balaclava.

Heat erupts, the knife in your hand forgotten on the floor as you grab at him, fingers digging in.

It's only a tease. You want the real thing.

"What's the tip?" you ask once he breaks the connection.

Simon answers by grinding his hips against yours.

That one. Got it.

“We should—”

A door slams from somewhere down the hall. Simon’s head snaps up. The knife disappears, and then Simon is pushing himself away, kneeling beside you. His head is turned toward the main doors, but no one enters.

“It’s late,” you say. No one should be coming this way.

He turns back to you. “Your knife skills are shit.”

You groan. “I know. Goblin hunch. Got it.”

Simon snorts, and offers his hand. You take it, and he pulls you into a seated position. “Just a few more rounds,” he says, and then with a husky twinge to his tone, “and then I’ll go make sure the locker room is clear.”

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fandomxo00 · 13 days

Note

Morning after one shot with Logan just lots of fluff and him being super attentive and making sure y/n is okay 👏🏼🥺

note: thank you for sending in a request, feel free to send in more ❤️❤️

you can't believe that this happened, that you slept with a man, who looked like that. you met at a party, one that you didn't really want to be at and he had shared the same sentiment.

flashes of last night come through your mind, the way he held on to you with his firm hands. the way he bent you over and---oof.

his hands were wrapped around you, holding you close to his chest, his chest slowly moving against your back as he breathed deeply. His soft hair touched your shoulder and his beard rubbed against your neck.

you'd never slept with a guy, age, or just a man like Logan, someone who prioritized your pleasure, held you close and didn't quick you out at the butt crack of dawn. Though the verdict was still out on whether he wanted you around in the morning, but you hoped your weren't naive in thinking that because of the fact he was older than your average hook-up that maybe he'd want a date.

But they never did, they had the intentions to hang out and fuck, telling you that they wanted to get to know you. You fell for it every time and you rarely went out to find a hook-up. Meeting Logan, you didn't really mean for this to happen but he's wildly attractive and wanted to have you over.

"Morning sweetheart." Logan rasped into your ear, his hands coming to your stomach and squeezing the flesh there as he pulled you in closer to him.

"Morning." You breathed as his lips pecked at your the sensitive skin of your neck

Thats when your stomach grumbled, making you flush as Logan huffed out a laugh. "How does french toast sound?"

"honestly amazing." you murmured, turning on your side to face logan. his hand slid to your waist as you propped your chin on your hand.

"How are you feeling? Aside from hungry.. " Logan trailed a small smile playing at his face.

"Uh- yeah im good." you hummed, leaning in to him as his hand come to your face and pulled you to kiss him. "How about a shower?"

"Sure, and I can go switch over your clothes-" He started as his hand came to your cheek, putting a firm pressure against your skin before wiping it away. You frowned looking down at his thumb as you saw black makeup on his skin. You flicked your eyes up to his a blush on your cheeks.

"My clothes? Did you wash them?"

"Can't sleep through most nights." Logan admitted, he lightly shrugged as he looked back at you with fond eyes.

"Well thank you, you can switch em over and join me?"

Logan hummed as he kissed you again, before getting up and pulling briefs over his hips. Then he offered you a robe as you got up from the bed, opening it for you, his eyes flitting down your body and back up, you tried not to flush completely. Your hands watching his movements as he grabbed the strings of the robe, pulling it a little tighter against you, your weight shifting towards him as he tied a bow on your waist. He was being so intimate, you were just trying to soak up what you could.

You wondered over to his bathroom, flicking on the lights and fan. Your eyes widened as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Your lips were bruised, eyes were slightly swollen, a couple love bites marked your neck and your makeup was smeared.

You moved over to the shower, undoing his robe and placing it on the hook. When Logan joined you, you didn't expect him to wrap his arms around you, before pulling you flush against his naked body as he placed his lips on yours in a hot, tooth clashing kiss.

"Let me take care of you." He murmured, his hands running through your sudsy wet hair. You nodded, staring up at him with disbelief in your eyes as he smiled as your head dipped back into the stream of water, his eyes were stuck on you. Watching every little thing you did, every micro expression of pleasure on your face as his strong fingers massaged the conditioner into your hair. "You're so beautiful." He complimented; his hands stayed respectful as he took care of you, though his hands were pressing tightly against your skin.

After the shower, Logan had given you your clothes from the night before but offered to loan you some of his, as well. You blushed as you shrugged, and a smile came over his face. "How about you go into my room and think about it, see what happens, what you'll change into." His toothbrush was out of his mouth as he spoke, the two of you standing in front of the mirror.

"Shut up." You whispered, shyly, your hand went out to bat at his chest as he laughed, putting the toothbrush back into his mouth.

After finishing up in the bathroom, you headed back to his room to change while he went to the kitchen. You came out in one of his t-shirts that was a little tight against your skin. Then sporting your leggings from the night before. You were wrapped in his scent as you walked out of his room, the pine and tobacco of his shirt filling your senses. You padded out into the hallway before turning towards what you presumed was the kitchen. You hadn't seen much of his apartment last night.

As you got closer the smell of French toast floating through the air, before you spotted Logan at the stove, he was still shirtless. Though he was wearing some pajamas bottoms. He turned his head smiling over at you as you entered, before wondering over to him before hoisting yourself up on to the counter.

"Are you gonna ask me out?" You blurted. Logan's head whipped over to you, his eyebrow lifting as a smile played on his lips.

"You want me to, doll?" You looked down at your hands, smiling as you gazed back up at him to look into his eyes.

"I just want to get the point, I don't wanna sit here and hope for you to ask me out, if you aren't going to."

"Well it seems like you made the first move." He grinned, you lightly mock him under your breath. Logan moves the french toast out of the pan and onto a plate before setting the pan on the back burner.

"Lemme taste it."

"It's hot." He replied, as he shook powdered sugar on to the toast.

"I like hot food."

"You're insane, your gonna burn your mouth." Logan argued, his voice serious but light as he looked around. Your hand reached out for the syrup, handing it to him. He grinned over at you before turning towards the cabinets.

"I'll be fine." You urged, as he tore off a piece from the plate before dipping into the brown syrup, before bringing it up to his mouth and blowing on it. You watched the way his lips lightly puckered, his jaw clenching as he continued to make eye contact with you. You breathed out shakily as he came over to you, your hand coming for the fork, but he brought it up to your face. Your mouth opening for him, he slid the utensil inside and your lips closed around it. The moment was intimate between the two of you, his eyes grew darker as your tongue came out to lick at the syrup on your lips.

"You got some sugar-." He started, moving closer to you, even though you were on the counter, his still towered over you as his thumb came to the side of your chin. "Don't even know how it got there-." You giggled as you looked up into his eyes, a fond smile playing on his lips as his green hazel eyes peered down into yours.

Though your smile dropped when he brought the sugar up to your lips and wiped it against the sensitive skin. Your smile lines by your eyes crinkled lightly as you peaked your tongue out, meeting his thumb just as he was about to move away. A hazy look came over his eyes as he slowly poked the tip of his thumb into your mouth. You lightly sucked on his finger; your knees shaky from his heated gaze.

Then he pulled back, before putting his hands on either side of you and leaning in. "Defintely gonna take you out, but right now I'd like you on your knees."

"Uh, yeah, okay." You panted.

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year

Text

Practice On Me — Part Four — Azriel x Reader

Summary: It’s Solstice! Reader decides she should probably be honest with Azriel about some stuff. Things don’t quite go to plan.

Oof. Okay. This could be uncomfortable reading for some. There are some hints and depictions of domestic abuse and also of alcoholism, so if that’s something that might trigger you, please, please do not read this. The last thing I want is for my writing to be harmful to anybody. Read with caution. Take care and put yourself first. Lots of love.

Also, please don’t hate me for this 😭we know I’m a hoe for angst and it wouldn’t be one of my fics if there wasn’t some sprinkled in there lmao.

Word Count: 5k.

Warnings: Depiction of abusive behaviour. Heavy drinking. Some violence.

On a brisk winter morning, when the sun hasn’t yet graced the sky, the last place you wish to be is at the Windhaven crèche, watching over a group of tired, grouchy younglings. Every second thought that passes through your mind is a longing one, lamenting on how desperately you wish to be back in your bed.

But alas, you owe your friend, Vegha, a favour, making you the sole minder of ten restless little girls, all annoyed that their brothers get to join their fathers for training, while they have to stay back and be…girls. A downfall, according to most Illyrian males.

You’re supposed to be watching over them for a couple of hours while Vegha runs an errand. And that time is going very, very slowly.

You’re in the middle of reading a storybook — and, yes, doing all the voices — when the door opens behind you. You feel a glimmer of hope that perhaps Vegha is back earlier than planned, but when you swivel on the child-sized chair you’ve perched yourself on, it’s Azriel who looms in the doorway.

And you…your heart does a silly little thing in your chest.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” He says. “I can wait.”

Your eyebrows flick up in amusement. “Come take a seat, then. It’s story time.”

His lips twitch, and he goes to reach for one of those infant chairs — which you’re not at all sure can handle all his muscle — but this sparks a flurry of complaints from the girls, who all insist that they want to sit with Azriel the most, and within seconds, he’s cross-legged on the floor with the children somehow managing to settle around him without bickering, and they’re all able to command his attention at once.

Happy mediums, and all that.

Your gaze lingers on him as he does all the right things; leaning his head down so he can appear less…huge, while listening with rapt attention to one of the girl’s chattering; steadying another one as they climb over him to get themselves seated; gently telling them all that they have to be quiet if they want to hear the rest of the story. That, of course, achieves immediate near silence.

And thus begins an entire performance of you continuing the tale, and the girls — and Azriel — responding in all the right places. They howl when they’re supposed to make the sound of a wolf, and roar when it’s a mountain cat, and you don’t miss that Azriel helps the tiniest of the girls to remember which animals make what sounds.

Most males in this gods-forsaken place are an intimidating presence to these children, frightening them into silence whenever they’re around, because girls are supposed to be seen and not heard. But Azriel is always gentle, always kind, and they adore him for it.

It’s a combination of all these things that force you to face a truth that’s been rapidly snowballing inside your mind and heart for the past four days — something has changed. Shifted. Has been shifting and changing for a while.

You laid awake for hours that night in the dormitory, listening to Azriel’s breathing as he slept deeply, happily sated from the pleasure you’d given him. Your mind had been too much of a war zone for you to drift off.

Nine years, you’ve called this male your closest friend. Ever since the very first day you’d met him, when a group of males had pushed you to the floor and kicked mud at you, and he’d jumped in and defended you for no other reason than that he’s good to the bone. Nine years, you’ve been by each other’s sides, and it’s been comfortable and familiar and just…right.

But now — now, you think you may have jeopardised that all by going along with Azriel’s request for help. Help with kissing. Touching. Experiencing.

You’ll always want to help him in any way that you can, of course. But you didn’t quite anticipate the predicament you now find yourself in. That you want all of those things and more, not just under the ruse of building your friend’s confidence. You want to explore more with him, feel more with him. You’ve been able to think about nothing else for days.

And it might make you a total wretch, but you want Kaeda to be a distant memory. The thought of Azriel taking what you’ve shown him, shared with him, and putting his all into somebody else…it sours your stomach. Makes you feel sick.

Makes your heart hurt.

And, well, you’re fucked, really.

It’s a kind of hurt that won’t go away on its own. It isn’t avoidable nor ignorable. And so your only option is to confront it, be honest about it. Whatever the outcome may be.

The story comes to an end, and the girls are calmed and sleepy enough that they look ready to curl up on the floor and doze off. Azriel peels himself away from the cluster of clingy children and stands up, strolling over to you.

“Well that was fun.” He comments quietly, taking the book from your hands. “Who knew I was so adept at doing animal impressions?”

“One of your many talents, I suppose.” You smile, drinking in the sight of him. He looks tired this morning. Tired, but beautiful. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

His expression sobers slightly, and he tells you, “We’re leaving this morning. For the training exercise.”

Immediately, your stomach churns. Being away from your friends sets you on edge. Windhaven is a lonely, lonely place to be without the love of Rhys, Cassian and Azriel to warm you. And not even Rhys’s mother is here to make it a little more bearable.

Az immediately recognises the bleakness that passes your face. He steps closer, his hand a gentle brush against yours. “I’ll be back for Solstice.” He reminds you yet again.

“I know.” You attempt to force an easy, breezing smile. “What’s the plan for Solstice, anyway?”

Normally, Rhysand’s mother would cook a meal in the cottage. You wouldn’t be able to attend, given that you’re always stuck at home with your father, but by the time he would pass out drunk, you’d sneak out and make it to the cottage just as the games were starting. Some of your happiest memories are of being curled up on one couch with Az, Rhys and his mother on the other, and Cassian stood in front of you, making a terrible attempt at playing charades.

But it’ll be different this year. With the High Lord keeping a tight leash on his pregnant mate in Velaris, there will be no meal, no charades. You, Azriel and Cassian would most certainly not be welcome at their intimate family celebration.

“Rhys will spend the day in Velaris.” Az tells you. “Cass and I will be getting drunk. There’s a celebration being held at the dormitories in the evening, so I suppose we’ll all end up there.”

You dip your chin. “I’ll come and find you there, then.”

His responding smile is a gentle one; one that says he sees right through you, right through to the panic that’s eating away at you, and he understands.

There’s no way he sees everything that you’re feeling, though. Perhaps that’s a good thing.

Your body goes slightly rigid as he dips down and presses a kiss to your forehead. His hand squeezes yours, and then he’s pulling away. “See you on Solstice.”

He bids a quiet goodbye to the dozing girls. It’s as he’s heading for the door that you find yourself stepping after him. “…Az?”

He turns, hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“There’s…something I need to talk to you about, when you get back. Something I need to tell you.”

Okay. Shit. You’re really doing this.

Azriel’s eyes rake over you, and then he smiles. “We’ll talk on Solstice.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Your head’s not all there today, as you stare out of the window of your father’s forge. Azriel and the others have been gone almost a week, and you’ve spent every one of those days thinking about how you’re going to tell him…whatever it is you’re going to tell him.

You’re not even certain, yourself.

Just that…that things are different. That you know, to begin with, that this was about him and Kaeda — but it’s shifted in your brain at an alarming rate, and now that you’ve shared something so…so meaningful, with him, you’re not sure you can go on acting as though it was all just a favour.

Yeah. That should do it.

And it’s a huge fucking risk, of course. There’s every chance he won’t return the sentiment, and then a giant wedge of unresolved feelings will exist between you.

But you need to — perhaps selfishly — confront this before things between him and Kaeda progress. In case there’s a slight chance that it’ll alter the path it’s heading down.

And you haven’t thought any further than that.

The snow has started again, and you watch the flurries sweep past the window and join the thick layer on the ground. You’ve become so accustomed to the noise of the forge that you hardly notice it anymore — not the constant clanking, nor the heat that the fires swathe the shop in. You used to beg your father to teach you his craft, to allow you to get stuck in and get your hands dirty, but he’s always stubbornly maintained that it’s a male’s job, and that he needs you for the bookkeeping. You’re surprised he trusts you with that.

You breathe a soft sigh, your thoughts once again flitting back to Az. To what he might be doing, thinking, feeling. Whether he misses you as much as you miss him.

But before those thoughts can take a hold of you and sink you deeper into your predicament, the door opens, the bell above it ringing and a gust of cold air momentarily biting you.

It’s rare for females to come to the forge. Very rare, indeed. Which is why, for a second or two, you just stare.

That — and because she’s incredibly beautiful.

Her eyes — the colour of emeralds — sweep the workshop, before landing on you, and she smiles. She has the telltale tanned skin of an Illyrian, but instead of the dark hair that’s so typical around here, hers is red — not orange, not auburn, but blood red. You’ve never seen a shade quite like it.

And if that’s not enough to completely bowl you over, your gaze rakes over her clothing, and you stop, stunned.

Females around here wear homespun dresses of simple brown shades. A few, like yourself, favour basic tunics and breeches. Clothing is just a necessity, not something you lend much thought to.

But this female wears Illyrian leathers. Never, in your life, have you seen females wear Illyrian leathers. It’s simply not a done thing.

But she looks resplendent in them.

They cling to supple curves and accentuate a figure that you don’t think you’d ever be able to achieve with any amount of training. And perhaps the most shocking thing of all — and the most enviable — is the presence of brilliant, beautiful wings at her back. Unclipped. Untouched. Unruined.

How your wings might have one day looked, had your father not destroyed them.

You’re not entirely convinced that an angel hasn’t just stepped into your father’s forge. Or perhaps this is the Mother that everyone worships. Part of you wants to worship her, too, and beg her to bestow upon you her blessings—

You snap yourself out of it before you can fall head-over-heels in love with her. She’s just a customer.

A very, very beautiful customer.

“Good day to you.” She says, approaching the counter. Her voice is like pure music.

You incline your head in greeting. “And to you. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m interested in having some gifts made for my father and brothers. For Solstice.”

Once again, you’re gawking.

Another thing that’s unheard of; females liking their family members enough to have gifts made for them.

You clear your throat, blinking out of your thoughts. “What…what kind of things were you looking for?”

“Personalised daggers.” She answers, and then she grins in a way that makes you want to tell her your life story, and leans closer. “A male can never have too many daggers, right?”

You breathe a laugh. It doesn’t sound natural. “Absolutely.”

“I’ll be needing three. One for my father, and one each for my two brothers. Can that be done in time for Solstice? I can pay extra…”

This female has beauty, leathers, wings, a relationship with her family members, money. She’s magnificent. A few exchanged words, and you’re awed by her.

Who is she? How have you never seen her before?

“It can be done.” You tell her with a flustered smile. “I’ll just need to sit with you and get some details of exactly what you want made, and then my father will get straight to it. I imagine they’ll be ready for collection by Solstice Eve.”

Her eyes light up in a way that reminds you of sunrise. “That’s perfect.”

There’s a second or two where you just…can’t help staring. Her beauty has knocked you speechless.

But once again, you snap yourself out of it and try to retain some semblance of professionalism.

“Can I take your name down?” You say, and clear your throat again. Gods, you hope you’re not blushing. “For the order.”

You grab a piece of parchment and a pen, hoping you’ll remember how the fuck to write.

“It’s Kaeda.” She says, and the pen nearly slips from your hand. “Kaeda Baralas.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Solstice morning sweeps in just as abruptly as the fresh onslaught of snow that once again batters the camp.

It’s going to be a rough one. You can feel it in your bones.

You dread it every year, but this year is made even worse by the constant stream of thoughts that have been plaguing you over the last week. About whether telling Az about your feelings is a good idea. Not just because of what it could do to your friendship, but because…

Because you can’t deny that since seeing Kaeda in the flesh, you’re doubting yourself more than ever.

Of course, you can see why Azriel would want her. And why he’d want to be good and experienced for her. And you…you’ve been facilitating that. You’re the practice dummy. Kaeda is the real thing.

At least the chaos of Solstice keeps you busy.

You wake early, and from the noise and foot traffic outside your bedroom window, you know Az’s unit has safely returned from their training exercise. Your relief is short-lived, replaced by the dread of your father hitting the bottle.

Every year is the same. You spend the day trying to focus on your preparation of the huge meal you’re expected to cook, while your father knocks back drink after drink and gradually gets rowdier. You tell yourself that the more he drinks, the better — he’ll fall asleep eventually, and you’ll be out of here.

But then the front door bursts open.

It’s four of your father’s friends who pile into your cramped home, singing at the tops of their voices and reeking of booze. You’re only just able to stop one of them knocking a pot of potatoes off the counter with a careless, wayward wing. They barely acknowledge you, filing through to the sitting room to greet your father. Their voices get louder, and an ache is building behind your eye.

Day bleeds into late afternoon. You try to ignore them, to focus on the task at hand. Cooking is usually enjoyable for you, but with an unwelcome party happening in the next room, you find yourself getting more and more stressed.

By the time your father bustles his way into the kitchen and begins sniffing around the food, you’re close to losing it.

“Isn’t it ready yet?” Your father rudely demands.

You stare out of the kitchen window, at the dwindling light of approaching evening, clenching your jaw. “It is. I’m waiting for your friends to leave.”

“They’ll be eating with us.”

You whirl on the spot. “We don’t have enough food for that.”

“I told you we’d have guests.”

No, he absolutely hadn’t. This is a power play. He does shit like this all the time. Backs you into corners.

“I bought food for two people.” You snap, unable to stop yourself. “Not six.”

Your father’s nostrils flare. You know that look on his face a little too well — the one where his cheeks redden and his eyes turn cold. It’s always, always made your stomach lurch.

He steps closer, and you press your back against the counter, trying your utmost not to look intimidated.

“You’d better rectify that, hadn’t you?” His tone is deceptively gentle. “Be a good girl and find a way to make the food go around six people. You wouldn’t want to ruin Solstice.”

It’s a veiled threat. One you’d be wise not to ignore.

So you stare at him and he stares at you. And when he eventually nods and leaves the room, you turn and try to work out how to make a meal for two a meal for six.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The mountain of a male beside you jostles your chair so violently that you almost fall out of it.

His hand grabs a roast potato from your plate. He shoves it into his mouth, chews, and grins. “You weren’t going to eat that, were you?”

The entire meal has been like this.

Perhaps it’s your ice-thin temper that has you staring him right in the eye; a thing many Illyrian males consider a great disrespect from females. “Would it matter if I was?”

He swallows and swipes the lone, remaining potato you hadn’t planned to touch. “Not really, no.”

The dinner is usually the only part you enjoy of Solstice. A meal that you spend hours perfecting, of slow-cooked meat and roasted potatoes and a colourful array of different vegetables that are cooked to perfection. It’s the one part of the day where you can just sit and breathe, because even your father doesn’t usually have a bad word to say about the meal you’ve presented.

This one has been pure, unadulterated hell.

To accommodate your unwanted guests, you’ve skimped on your own food, barely affording yourself a couple of mouthfuls. Wine and ale has been spilled across the table, and the conversation around it has only grown more and more uncomfortable — and vile — as the night has worn on. You want nothing more than to get out of here and find your friends, but your father and his cronies show no signs of slowing down.

You sit, staring emptily at the plates, the little remaining morsels of the meal you spent all day cooking. You try to block out the laughter and jeering, the disgusting comments, the blatant disrespect, but it’s all getting to you, riling you up. You’re not sure how long you’ll last without snapping.

Your answer comes when your father looks at you. And he snaps his fucking fingers at the finished plates.

“Clear this up, Y/N.” He says.

You know your father. You know what he can be like, the damage he can do. Your ruined back is evidence enough. And you know the wisest and safest thing is for you to comply and rant about him to your friends later.

But you’re far beyond that point.

You meet his gaze, and your jaw ticks as you shoot back, “Why don’t you clear it up yourself?”

You regret it the second the room falls deathly silent. All the noise is gone in an instant. Every face is looking your way.

But it’s your father’s face you’re concerned with. The expression that tells you you’ve made a grave, grave mistake.

“What was that?” His voice is quiet. Too quiet.

You look away. Wish you could cram the words back down your throat. “Nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” The male beside you sneers. “You speak to your father like that, girl? If you were my child, I’d string you up by the remains of those wings you never should have been born with.”

“I’d do a lot worse than that.” Another one remarks, a sickening laugh in his voice.

Throughout it all, your father is staring at you. Saying nothing.

“Did it hurt, anyway? Having them ripped off like that? I bet it did. I hope it did.”

Your final straw is when the pig at your side has the audacity to reach around and touch your back. You tense immediately, and you’re shooting up from your chair, knocking it over as you do.

“Don’t ever lay a finger on me again.” You will your voice to be stronger, firmer, but it won’t comply. You shake as you gather the plates up in your hand. “I’m cleaning this up.”

That’s met with a chorus of laughter, a pelting of comments. You tell yourself to block it out, block it the fuck out, balance as much as you reasonably can in your hands and book it into the kitchen. You dump the plates onto the counter and grip onto the sink basin, trying to draw in deep, slow breaths.

But then there are footsteps behind you. And the kitchen door closes. And you know that’s not good.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes shutter. You release one of those useless breaths before you dare to turn and face your father.

And when you do, his face is…soft. Eyes filled with concern.

But you’re not stupid enough to buy it.

You’re taut as a bowstring as he approaches you, stopping inches away. He drinks in the sight of you, tilting his head. You wait for him to tell you that you look just like your mother — a fact that only contributes to his vitriol. As if it’s your fault that she abandoned him, abandoned both of you.

He thinks it is.

His hand touches your cheek, his thumb sweeping the skin there. You swallow, hoping he can’t feel the way you tremble beneath him.

“What’s gotten into you, my girl?” He asks quietly. “What did I say about not ruining Solstice?”

You swallow. Lower your gaze. “I thought it would just be the two of us.”

“Do I not have the right to invite my friends into my home?”

“I’m just saying that a little bit of warning would have been appreciated. I didn’t spend hours cooking a meal just for your friends to come along and ruin it.”

“Your attitude has become insufferable. Perhaps it’s those three males you’ve been spreading your legs for. Giving you too much of an ego boost.”

You almost want to laugh in his face — laugh at his cluelessness. But your anger wins. Maybe you’re more like him than you ever thought.

“Or perhaps, father,” you snap, “it’s an accumulation of anger and desperation after twenty years of living with a repulsive, sanctimonious—”

He strikes you so hard that for a moment, you’re simply stunned as to why you’re suddenly on the floor. But the thwack of his hit rings in your ears, echoes through the kitchen.

And then the metallic taste of blood is coating the inside of your mouth. It’s streaming down your chin, and you’re not even sure where it’s all coming from, only that it hurts and your eyes are stinging.

Your father stares down at you. And in that moment, you realise that the eeriest thing of all is that he never glares at you. You think you’d prefer that.

He always stares with that emptiness. That icy vacancy. It makes his actions more unpredictable, more dangerous.

He lunges down so suddenly that you flinch, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. Your legs don’t want to comply as he shoves you towards the door.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” He hisses at you, ripping the door open. “Go on. Fuck off, just like your mother did.”

And then he’s shoving you into the snow, a plume of it erupting around you. You hardly notice the cold. You’re too stunned.

Not stunned enough, though, to refrain from biting back at him. Just like a threatened animal would.

“Fuck you.” You sneer, the words contorted by a mouthful of blood that you spit onto the snow. “Fuck you, father.”

The bastard laughs in your face. Just as he’s always laughed in your face. And then he kicks snow at you because he can and steps back into the house.

When the door shuts behind him, you push to your feet. You’re trembling all over. It might be the cold. It might be the shock.

There’s only one person you want to see right now. So you wrap your arms around yourself and head towards the dormitories.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Halfway through trudging across the camp, your shoes sodden with snow, your lip still bleeding, the emotions begin to hit.

You resent them. You resent feeling anything at all towards the male who is your only blood relative in this hollow, hollow place. The one who took your wings. The one who has tried to keep a firm grasp on the control he has over your life.

But you do feel things. Hurt and rage and humiliation and — bizarrely — betrayal. As if some small slither of hope had followed you from childhood into adulthood — that your father would one day miraculously awaken as a different person. A family member worth holding onto.

He never would.

No, your true family has always been the small, loving group that crams themselves into a cottage across the camp; a place of warmth and welcoming.

Rhysand and Cassian and Azriel. Rhysand’s mother, too. They are your family. They have always cared, since the moment you met them.

It’s for that reason that you persevere with your walk, even though you’re frozen to the bone. You think you might be crying. You’re not too sure anymore. Your friends will make it better. They always make it better.

The dormitories glow in the distance; a welcome sight, for once. You kick through the snow with desperation, and you’re definitely crying, definitely shaking all over, but the sounds of the celebrations coming from inside are a relief. Playful jeering and someone strumming a lute and off-kilter singing.

You push your way through the door. Inside is as crowded as you expect it to be, but you don’t even care. Anywhere is better than at home.

Your eyes — not really taking in much at all — scan the corridors, the common area, looking for any of your three closest friends. You see none of them, but a hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to find Vegha there. Her eyes widen immediately at the state of you. You dread to think how bad you look.

“Y/N, what the fuck?” She blurts. “Why are you bleeding?”

“Fell over.” You know how stupid it sounds. “I…I need to find Azriel. Have you seen him?”

“Oh, I think he skulked off to his room a little while ago. Everyone knows he hates big parties like this—”

Perfect. You’ll hole up in his room together and block the rest of the world out. You’re already turning and pushing through people. You’ll apologise to Vegha for your rudeness later. Right now, you just need Azriel’s comfort, his love. The conversation you planned to have with him tonight is now a distant memory, an issue to confront later. You just…just want him. He always makes everything better.

You don’t notice the drink that gets spilled on you, or the disgruntled groups of people you have to shove through. None of that matters. Azriel is your family. He matters.

Finally, you make it to his room. The soft glow of faelights shine beneath the door — an indication he’s inside. You almost sob with relief as you grab the handle and burst in.

Two faces immediately look round at you.

Azriel’s.

Kaeda’s.

Kaeda lies on top of him, hands either side of his head. Her lips are swollen and inches from his. Azriel is palming at her waist, holding her against him. They’re both fully clothed, but…but you get the sense they wouldn’t have been for much longer, had it not been for your interruption.

Azriel drinks in the sight of you, his chest heaving. He blinks. You…you’re rooted to the spot.

And you fucking wince as Kaeda sits up slightly. Az’s hands fall back to his sides.

The beautiful female eyes you, tilting her head. And you want to get out of there, to fucking run, but you can’t do anything but stand and blink as something shatters inside of you.

“The shop hand from the forge.” Kaeda states in surprise, as if it’s ludicrous to consider that you might sometimes venture outside of your father’s workshop. “What happened to your face?”

Azriel is finally springing into action, then, sitting up and scooting out from beneath Kaeda. “Y/N…”

You cannot bear the gentleness of his voice. It may just finish you off.

All of this might. Staying here a second longer might.

So you, for some reason, shake your head and back slowly out of the room. Azriel lurches up, but you’re grabbing hold of the door handle firmly.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Your voice is all wrong and fractured. You quickly shut the door before it can morph into a sob.

You think Azriel might call after you, but it’s probably wishful thinking. You don’t know. Don’t know anything. Don’t know what to do next.

So you simply walk away.

You suppose you’ve taught Azriel everything he needs to know.

azriel tag list: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @jjlevin @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @spikertrash @kindagoldylocks @barbiezambie @kht1998 @soupghoul @nyctophiliawitch @gracie1234567891011 @gaymistakeboi @luvmxo @rinalouu @microwaveallthedemons @starlightshowdown

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girlboypersonthingy · 5 months

Note

i’ve never really asked before but i just read all of your sally face stuff and BFBSVAVAX so i was thinking….

(preferably afab) reader coming home tired and needy, walking in sal and their shared room sighing as they rip off their work shirt and stare at sal who’s practicing a new song. waiting for him to put his guitar aside they fall dramatically into his lap and start COVERING his mask in kisses, stopping suddenly to ask for a real kiss:3

just some fluffy stuff pls it’s been a LONGGGG few weeks:D

A D O R A B L E ! ! ! This week has def been a ‘I want to come home to Sal and collapse in his arms’ type of week for me like oof 😔…I’m sorry this took me a while to get to, I hope you’re alright. Hopefully you’re doing better by now and if not, plz feel free to message me and we can chat 🖤 thanks for requesting and enjoy!

Notes: fem!reader, this is really fucking silly I’m so sorry…

TW: a bit suggestive, lots of swearing, making out, spit/drool, boobs lol 18+ only!!!

Sal x reader- Hard Day 🌙

(Imagine Sal practicing this song while you read this 🖤)

“Fuuuuuuckkkk…” You groan loudly as you drag your feet through the doorway of the house, stomping loudly on each step of the stairs. As you near the door way of your bedroom, you see the light is on, the music is loud and you can hear Sal playing his guitar along to it, occasionally hitting the wrong note. As you step across the threshold of the room, you let loose a big breath of air as you slouch over a bit, catching Sal’s attention for a moment.

“Hey babe!” He shouts over the music while continuing with his playing. He was sat up on the corner of the bed, guitar in his lap, slouched over with his prosthetic still on. You couldn’t help but watch his fingers on the strings for a moment, black painted nails moving oh so smooth but still making little mistakes. “Hi…I’m so tired.” You say but it falls on deaf ears. Sal is just so close to nailing this one part of the song, he’s been trying for two and half hours now and he’s too close to quit.

Disappointed and a bit annoyed, you quickly shed your shirt and continue giving Sal a cranky but needy glare, only covered by a bra up top. “Sal!!!” You finally shout, making Sal look up, making his hands freeze for a moment. He quickly leans over to turn the music off, his blue hair swaying over his shoulders as he moves. “I’m sorry…uh hey…babe. You okay?” Just by the tone of his voice, the way he’s hesitating and stopping to lick his dry lips under his mask, you can tell he’s equally flustered and excited by your lack of clothes.

“No…I’m not…” You pout for a moment, sighing as you rub your aching temples. He sets his guitar aside and puts one hand out towards you, offering it as a comforting gesture. You gladly accept, grabbing his hand then quickly approaching him and sitting in his lap. “This week…was the fucking worst!” You cry out dramatically, turning to the side so he can hold you bridal style. “I just wanna stay home with you all day, every day.” Sal chuckles softly, one arm tucked up under your knees, the other cradling your back while his hand ruffles the hair on the nape of your neck. “Me too, babe. Me too…” He replies before he gently nuzzles his prosthetic up against your face, making kissy noises under it.

After enough of his cuddly kisses, you decided to return the favor, covering his mask in kisses. You pepper kisses everywhere, all over his prosthetic very quick and soft. Until finally, you pause and place a long kiss on the lips of his prosthetic, humming as a smile grows on your lips. “You know what would really make me feel better…?” You really drag out the words, using your best flirty voice as your finger traces the side of his mask. “What?” He quickly clears his throat, your faces only inches apart. His rapid breathing echos inside his prosthetic as his hand slides up to fully cradle your head.

“Kiss me for real…please?” Your flirty tone turns to a very soft, comforting type of tone, smiling up at him as you watch him blink down at you. There’s a pause, he hesitates for a moment before gulping nervously. Although you’ve seen his face many times before, mouth to mouth kisses were hard to come by with Sal. With a shaky hand, he grabs your own hand and guides it to the back of his head, gesturing for you to unclip his prosthetic for him. He was far too nervous to do it himself, he figured he’d let you set the pace.

To his surprise, you’re pretty quick with the buckles and the mask falls into your lap within seconds. Immediately, your lips meet, Sal uses that hand on the back of your head to push you into him further. As your arms snake around his neck, hugging him close to your nearly bare chest, his other hand is gently kneading your hip as you move your lips against his. The kiss began to rapidly pick up pace, his tongue occasionally licking along your bottom lip.

It was always a delightful shock when your lips or tongue would meet his teeth accidentally where they peek through his cheek and the corner of his mouth, now was no exception. Any time this happens, Sal usually shies away and assumes it grosses you out, especially when he knows he’s probably drooling. Expecting this would happen, you move one hand to the back of his head, matching the grasp he has on you to keep him engaged in the kiss.

A low moan comes from him as he deepens the kiss along with you, tilting his head and running his tongue along your own. Suddenly, clumsily, Sal grabs ahold of your legs and slowly lays back on the bed, pulling you along with him, trying to keep his lips on yours. He fails at this, your lips parting for a moment, him awkwardly shifting under you until he pulls you up closer to his bright red and slightly sweaty face. You can’t help but laugh, not at him, he’s just too cute when he gets like this,

A chuckle rumbles from his chest as he holds you closer, squeezing you tightly against him as he places a final kiss on your nose. “Are you feeling better?” He quickly leans back in for a few more tender lip kisses, smiling brightly as he pulls back. “Yes, sooooo much better. You know what would really make me happy though, Sally?” Your hands run slowly through his long, blue hair as he hums in response. “Hm?”

“Let’s do all of that again…but in a nice hot shower~”

Cue Sal getting a gruesome bloody nose as he glances down at your barely covered chest and thinks about having a shower with you. 🥴🖤

#sally face fanfic #sally face fanfiction #sal sally face #sally face sal #sally x reader #sal x reader #sal fisher #sally fisher #sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x you #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher smut #sally face fluff #sally face fandom

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shhhsecretsideblog · 2 months

Text

Anniversary To Remember

RP / story written with @tbgblr2 Thanks for taking on the challenge of this idea and my attempt to find an inconvenient birth location that hadn’t been written before. (9.5k words)

“Wha… NO!” you snapped as you looked at the sign in front of us.

“Please?” I asked, with my best doe eyed expression. “I booked it specially for us last year… I know things have changed, but it's perfectly safe.”

“I’ll fall through.” You groan, admittedly giggling at the thought.

“No you won't, they’re not like the old days with wicker baskets, they’re proper, metal structures designed to hold 10 times our combined weight.” I retorted.

It was our second wedding anniversary today. When we discussed it last year, the day after our one year anniversary, it sounded like a great way to celebrate our second. We were going on a hot air balloon ride over the city into the countryside and staying for a romantic meal together with a night in a log cabin to follow.

Only our desires got the better of us, and here we were looking at the sign for the balloon place with you holding your hands under your blossoming belly – 9 months of it.

You had forgotten all about it with all the baby commotion, but when I pulled up to the venue near the airport, it all came flooding back.

“The doctor said you weren’t due for another week, and this will be the last chance we can do something crazy like this before the baby comes. It makes lots of sense to do it now and cross it off our bucket list… plus I can’t get a refund.” I tried to reason with logic.

You shook your head. “I think my belly is almost the size of that balloon the way I feel.” Despite your protest you’re clearly thinking about it and, warming up to the idea, you eventually smile at me.

“That’s my girl” I grin “Don’t worry, it’s only 3 hours”

~•~

I roll my eyes but my lips pull into a smile. “Okay, let’s do it. Here’s hoping we can both fit in there.” I joke, rubbing the swell of my heavy stomach.

Leaving the house was the last thing I wanted to do today, and taking a romantic hot air balloon ride? Complete madness. But you were just so excited, this was something you’d always wanted to do for as long as I’d known you. And those doe eyes, I really couldn’t say no.

As we stood and waited for the stewards to set up the balloons, I grimaced at the twinge flaring in my back.

“Oof-” I huff out, and attempt to hold up my bump that’s weighing heavy on my hips and cramping my spine.

“Baby kicking you in the ribs again?” You ask, noticing my expression.

“No… it’s just really heavy. Hoooo- I’ll be glad when this pregnancy is over.”

“Not long left to go sweetie. Here, let me try something.” You stand behind me, arms snaking my waist, and you lift up the large bump containing our baby. My head falls back against you with relief. “That feels wonderful.” I murmur, enjoying the momentary feeling.

After a couple of minutes of respite, you gently let go and the weight returns to my pelvis and I groan softly.

“Are you sure this is safe?” I ask, taking another deep breath, rubbing my belly subconsciously. “I’m not sure I’m up for this…”

~•~

“It’s the safest thing in the world” came the voice across the way. One of the representatives of the balloon company came striding up and shook my hand. “How can I help?”

I picked up my phone and scrolled through to our online voucher. “I’m here for our booking?” I asked, showing the details to the man who approached.

“Ahh!” came the reply. “You’re here to fly. Got your transport right over here. Flying it myself today. Names Jimmy. I couldn’t help but overhear the discussion earlier, let me tell you, kids are the best thing in the world, and once you’re up in the air, you’re going to have stories to tell them to get them to sleep for years to come. Just checking…” he sounded slightly unsure “are you safe to fly in your condition?”

“I have the medical certificate here, got it last week.” I announced. Jimmy looked it over.

“Good all seems to be in order, if you’ll follow me… our chariot awaits!” Jimmy was enthusiastic, I’ll certainly give him that.

~•~

I was glad when Jimmy directed us further across the field, I needed the opportunity to walk off the cramp rippling my stomach. The braxton hicks had been happening on and off today, which wasn’t particularly unusual, but I didn’t want to tell you as I knew you’d only worry. I didn’t want to ruin this once in a lifetime experience for you.

My eyes widened when I saw the basket we’d be riding in; it was huge and a lot taller than I anticipated. It was higher than my waist.

“Erm… how am I going to get in that?” I ask uncertainly.

Jimmy produced a stepping stool, presumably he was used to getting people in and out the large basket but perhaps never someone quite this pregnant before.

~•~

It took a few false starts, with you stepping on, trying to get your leg over the top, giving up, repositioning, trying again and again, but eventually you were able to use my shoulder as support as I lifted you up over the edge of the basket. “Maybe I should have gotten in first and lifted you over?” I suggested, as I scrambled in behind you.

You huffed out a breath as you smiled “I am in no condition to be lifted thank you!”

It was quite roomy all things considered. There was a small cabin to one side where the pilot could sit and do his thing without directly interfering with us. I looked over and saw the laptop computer affixed to a small tray against the wall.

Our area was open sided, exposed to the elements, but thankfully it was a nice day and aside from higher winds when we got up to a decent height, we were expecting clear views and plenty of lasting memories.

We cuddled together as Jimmy announced he was lighting the burners – the whoosh of the gas and the heat of the flames announced we were getting ready to go. I hugged you from behind and as there was a quick lurch from the balloon lifting off the ground I felt your usually soft belly harden under my fingers. “What was that?” I whispered to you.

~•~

“What was what?” I reply casually, keeping my eyes forward at the ground that was slowly disappearing beneath us.

You say my name with a hint of a scolding, knowing I knew exactly what you were referring to. My belly was still contracting under your fingers and I could see in your eyes that you could feel it too.

“It’s nothing, just another braxton hicks that’s all. Don’t worry. Look at this amazing view” I try to distract you “we’re already so high.”

~•~

I calm a little as I feel the tension ease around your middle. Taking your hand in mine we walked over to the edge of the basket. We spend a good 5 minutes with the wind ruffling our hair as we stare out over the city. “There's our house!” I excitedly point out into the distance. “There’s your parent’s place. Oh and mine.” I’m lost in the giddy enjoyment of this, holding your hand tight and don’t notice your grip tightening and tightening more on mine as the next contraction starts to grip your middle.

“If we need to get down, how do we do that?” you asked Jimmy.

“Sorry, nothing much we can do now until we’re outside the city. Nowhere clear to land. Figure we need about 2 hours minimum with this wind speed. Afraid we can’t just turn these things around and head home.” He was smiling but didn’t even look up at you as he responded, he was too focused on twisting the knobs on the gas bottles to get the mixture right and tapping his route onto the laptop to let air traffic control know where we were heading.

I turn back around and grasp you around the waist – your bump pressed in tight against me as I cuddle you close to me. I don’t notice the strained tension that had gripped it a few moments before. Kissing you I whisper “Happy anniversary. Here’s to lots of years and lots of babies!”

~•~

“Lots of babies eh? Let’s see how we get on with this one first before you start planning for a whole football team.” I shift my hips subtly side to side, trying to not think about just how low the baby felt in my pelvis.

“You were right; it is really magical up here. You can see the whole city.” I say wandering as much as I can in the small space, needing to move, looking out at every angle towards the horizon. The sun was shining brightly illuminating the tiny buildings below, clouds littered the perfectly blue sky, but it was the silence that made the experience otherworldly. It was so quiet up here. Just the sounds of the breeze and the occasional whoosh of the gas canisters keeping our balloon in the air.

I ended up leaning against the adjacent wall of the basket to you, each of us looking out at the impressive scenery, but I’m pulled out of the experience but a forceful contraction squeezing and tightening my belly. My breath hitches, pain pressing more urgently now through my body. I try to steady my breathing, long deep breathes through the pain, that’s what they say don’t they? My fingers grip the padded railing and my head dips slightly. Stay calm, just breathe, I tell myself. This might not be labour.

~•~

You suddenly feel my hand rubbing your back. “You ok?” I ask, concern in my voice looking at your white knuckles gripping the side. Your eyes dart between my face and what I’m looking at, suddenly releasing your grip.

“Yeah, fine. Just baby’s really low. Probably just the change in gravity because we’re so high.”

I caught my laugh, sniggering through my lips. “No, you’re just very, very pregnant.” My hands grip either side of your hips and press, the moan escaping your lips echoed out across the wide open air.

I lean in close and whisper so only you can hear “Just breathe through it, we’ll be on the ground in a couple of hours.”

~•~

“You know?” I whisper my reply, turning my head slightly to find you nodding, a grin twitching your lips. “Damn, I thought I’d been more- hooo-subtle.”

Slowly, I turn around to face you, holding on to your biceps as I find myself needing both the physical and emotional support.

“Ooohhhh- why now?” I quietly moan against your chest.

“Shhhhhh it’s okay.” You whisper into my hair, rubbing my back before pressing deep into my hips again. “How long do you think you’ve been in labour for?” You ask.

“Mmmm- I’m not sure. My body’s always aching and cramping these days, I- I didn’t think anything of it….” I reply softly, my breath hitching again with another contraction. My heavy rounded belly is squashed between us and I’m almost certain you’d be able to feel it through your shirt, tensing and contracting against your stomach.

~•~

The next contraction builds without warning as you grab hold of me tight, your fingers digging into my shoulders as you press your forehead into my chest, desperately resisting the urge to scream, knowing it would likely cause chaos with our pilot. My hands grip into the small of your back and you press back into them, you’re suddenly bent at the waist, your feet spread, hips swaying side to side as you groan quietly into me.

My forehead rests against you and to the outside world - or specifically Jimmy at this moment - it just looks like we’re embracing and enjoying the moment.

Suddenly there’s a splash between your legs and you find your dress is sticking to your legs. You go wide eyed. There’s no mistaking it now…

~•~

“Oh my god…” my voice is barely a whisper as I stare up at you in shock. Your expression mirrors my own.

“Erm… is everything alright guys?” Jimmy asks in an upbeat tone that feels alien to the both of us right now.

“Not really no…” I say to our bewildered pilot, before turning back to you. “Honey, I think I need to sit down.”

Your hand is around my waist as you walk me over to the small cushioned bench sitting one end of the hot air balloon basket, you steady me as I awkwardly lower myself down.

“Are you okay here for a minute while I update our pilot on what’s happening?” You ask quietly, one hand affectionately rubbing my stomach.

“Mmmm- yeah… I think so. Thanks.” I reply and watch you walk over to Jimmy to presumably tell him that I’m in labour.

Everything feels different now I’m sat down; my hips ache, my pelvis feels full and my stomach seems to sit further out forcing itself to sit between my thighs. The baby had definitely dropped and was making its arrival known.

Why now… why here… I thought to myself, this baby has a really warped sense of timing. I closed my eyes and rubbed slow circles around my stomach. I tried to stay calm and reassure myself that everything would be okay, but my broken waters continuing to leak from me served as a constant reminder of my advancing labour. My heart raced and it felt like I couldn’t quite catch my breath through the rising panic…

~•~

I look Jimmy straight in the eyes. “We need to get down. Now… if not sooner.”

He shook his head “I wasn’t lying when I said we couldn’t. You guys knew the issues before you got on. I’ll put an SOS out so the medical facilities will meet us when we land, but it’s going to be around 2 hours.”

“Shit” I cursed under my breath, as you groaned loudly, the first vocalisation of a rapidly accelerating labour.

I dashed to you and skidded down to my knees, inadvertently sliding through your amniotic fluid in the process, cursing all the way. I grasp your hands as you grip mine - hard - as your eyes look at me pleading, struggling to catch your breath.

I talk you down, calming whispering tones as you catch your breath and groan through the rest of the contraction.

Jimmy struggles putting 2 and 2 together as he asks “what’s happening?”

“We might well be pushing out a baby at 2000 feet if you can’t get this thing on the ground” I summarise.

“Fuck” came the blunt reply from our pilot.

~•~

We stay in that position for the next few contractions - offering me your hands to hold or shoulders to squeeze. Meanwhile, Jimmy is nervously pressing buttons on his map and contacting the base on the ground, trying to find any nearby suitable location to land - his laidback persona starting to fray at the edges.

“Hooo- the baby feels so low…” I huff out after a particularly fierce contraction. “I don’t think… I can sit anymore. Feels like I’m sitting on their head. Need to- oof- stand. Help me up?” I ask holding out my arms.

Your large hands hook under my arms and slowly aid me to standing. My balance is thrown off, the baby even lower, and I stumble a little but you’re quick to react and hold me steady.

“How are you doing love?” You ask me with concerned eyes.

“Okay… as well as I can b-be in the circumstances.” I attempt to joke, motioning to the basket and the open skies around us and the ridiculous situation we’ve found ourselves in.

“I guess of all places to labour, this has definitely got the best views.” You tuck a sweaty strand of hair behind my ear. You’re barely even looking at where we are - eyes focussed solely on me.

“I’m sorry… I ruined this experience for you.” I murmur quietly to you, feeling guilty that you were now missing out on enjoying this bucket-list activity.

“What? Don’t be silly. You’re having my baby, there is literally nothing more important to me than the two of you.” You kiss my forehead and pull me closer.

Before I can respond another contraction steals any words I could say and I’m left with only deep groans coming from my mouth.

The pain and pressure rages through my very core, my hands scramble to hook themselves around your neck as my hips sway and my knees bounce, pulling myself downwards against your sturdy frame, releasing a low moan against your chest.

When the contraction fades and my ability to speak returns I ask “do you think we should maybe start… hoooo… timing them?”

~•~

“Let’s give it a go” I say, glancing at my watch. At this point I’m just playing along as I’d been timing them since I first realised you’d been having contractions. We focus on each other through the course of the next few minutes not even staring out at the view at this point - you’re deep breathing, head buried in my chest and my hands roaming your body trying to rub - anywhere - to make the pain go away.

As the next contraction builds bringing you back into your previous position, hanging low off me and moaning loud through the worst of it, I’m counting in my head. The numbers reach high enough that I just give up as you finally come out the other end and look at me.

“So you know in the birthing class when they say come in when they’re less than 5 minutes apart and last longer than a minute?”

You nod, signalling me to go on.

“I think we should have been there for quite some time now. That was 3 minutes from the last one and lasted at least a minute - lost count after 50 seconds”

Jimmys face, watching all this from afar went white.

I turned and noticed. “Hey you said you’d had babies before. Any tips for this bit? All my knowledge is from videos at this point?”

He shook his head. “No. I couldn’t handle it. Seen my wife in stirrups, seen her bulge as the head came out and I passed out. Came to as she had a baby to her chest and 2 nurses fanning me looking on concerned”

I shook my head. “Great…” I wasn’t sure how much of that you had took on in you slight state of delirium, but either way, the next contraction was building and you held on tight.

~•~

On learning that we should already be at the hospital by now with how close together the contractions were coming, I wiggled out of your hold and moved away. Needing space… to process, to not be touched.

“No…. That can’t- can’t be right. Hoooo-“ I breathed heavily, hands gripping the edge of the basket in the absence of you. Unsure if it was the increasing pressure or the very real possibility that I was going to have this baby in a damn hot air balloon, my brain went into complete denial.

“Babe, I’m sorry. We can time some more to be sure, but this baby is definitely coming, sooner than we want.” You stand next to me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder which I shrug off with a gruff. I know this isn’t your fault, just a case of really unfortunate timing, but the constant pressure and pain has me taking my frustrations out at you.

“Fuck… ohhhh my back….” I whimper, leaning over the railing and jutting my hips backwards. The baby must be pressing on a nerve that has my spine screaming.

Despite snapping at you and shrugging off any contact, your hands grasp my hips and you press your thumbs deep into pressure points in my lower back. The relief is instant, pain reducing to a level that didn’t make me want to vomit, and I exhale a moan into my elbows.

“Did we- find anywhere- else to- land?” I pant out.

You turn to Jimmy, who also heard my laboured question.

“Yes I did, it’s sooner than our original landing spot, but with the wind speed and direction we’re travelling… erm it’s still going to be at least another hour and half…” Jimmy admitted to us.

~•~

“I don’t think she’s going to last an hour and a half!” I rant at Jimmy while rubbing your back. He looks at me with an apologetic look in his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“Is there anything in here that we could use? A first aid kit at least?” I ask.

Jimmy digs under the shelf where his laptop sits and pulls out a tiny first aid kit. Leaving you for just a moment I take the first aid kit from Jimmy and open it - inside a small roll of gauze, some tape and a pair of round ended scissors.

“No idea if these will even be sharp enough to cut the cord… not that we could tie it off properly if we could.” I at least sounded like I knew what I was talking about though inside I was panicking at this point.

“Quick…” you groan as the next contraction builds and I rush over to hold your hand, feeling you squeeze tight.

~•~

I take your hand, gripping hard, and twist around towards you curling into your embrace. I hang on to you as the contraction takes hold, the pain sharp and the pressure constant. You notice the sounds I’m making with each contraction are getting deeper, now lowing instinctually with every peak.

A minute slowly passes but the contraction doesn’t fade. I’m still shifting and groaning in your arms.

“Hoooooo- No…. Oh no no no…” I suddenly whimper, panting erratically.

“What is it?” You ask worriedly.

I lift my head up, seeing the apprehension in your eyes. “I- hooohooohoo- no…. not now….”

“Baby, talk to me. I need to know so I can help you.” You plead, cupping my face.

“I think… ooohh- I think I need to push…” I say as I bite my bottom lip, breathing heavily through my nose.

~•~

It was my turn for my face to go white. “Now? No! God, no… not now!” I pleaded to the open air around us. You weren’t listening, or at least not responding, deep breaths being sucked in and puffed out to try and regain a moment of calm before the contractions happen all over again.

“You can’t push. No one has checked you… are you dilated? You might injure yourself. You have to wait until we land!” I’m rambling at this point. Instinctively I know there’s nothing we can do to stop it and it happens when it happens but the only thing going through my head is ‘we’re all alone up here.’

“Please baby do your best. You can’t push… please” I plead.

~•~

The contraction eventually begins to fade, and taking with it the urge to push. I can’t help the smile that pulls my lips hearing your string of panicked questions and your flustered demeanour. Placing a hand to your chest, I calmly say “Honey, breathe.” Echoing the words you’ve previously said to me. “It’s okay, it’s passed now.”

“Oh god, you scared the life out of me.” You pull me closer, wrapping your arms around my waist. “So… you’re doing okay now?”

“Yes, I’m okay now, we both are.” I reassure you, holding the swell of my stomach that’s nestled between us.

You crouch right down so you’re eyelevel with the bump, both your hands splayed wide across its surface. Looking up at me over the swell you mutter “Can’t believe we’re going to meet our baby.”

I giggle, placing my hands over yours. “I know, hopefully not too soon though.” My breath suddenly hitches with a sharp inhale. “Oooohhhh here comes another one. Quick, hold me-” I manage to spit out before the contraction steals my speech and buckles my knees.

~•~

You sink down to your knees, your head nestling into the crook of my neck as you flop your arms over either of my shoulders and leave them draped down my back. I feel your fists clench and release through the bouncing of your forearms as you let out a groan, muffled by the fabric of my tee shirt.

I whisper close to your ears “You’re doing great, keep on doing that, resist that urge to push.”

I feel your head bobbing into me, nodding as much as you could, not able to give me a verbal response.

Your knees are spread wide and I can only hope at this time that your stance being wide doesn’t foreshadow anything happening between them.

I glance to the side to see Jimmy moving towards us to push past my back. He was fiddling with a few ballast bags on the side of the basket, pulling them in and pushing them to the opposite side of the basket.

He didn’t say anything, but after shoving the bags over the other side, re-securing their fixings and letting them out over the edge he went back to the gas controls.

Suddenly we felt the unmistakable feeling of descent, the slight jump in the pit of our stomachs.

“Are we nearly there?” You asked. The contraction was ebbing away and your voice was croaky, only barely loud enough to hear.

“Sorry” came Jimmy, and once more he sounded genuinely apologetic. “We need to drop down a bit to catch a different wind current to get to the new destination. Still got an hour or so.”

Your head dug back into my shoulder. That wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

~•~

“An hour?! Hooooo- I don’t know if the baby is going to wait that long…” I whisper quietly in your ear, not wanting to admit it too loudly as that would make it real.

“Shhhh, it’ll be okay baby.” You quietly reply as you rub my back. “You’re doing great, keep resisting the urge. It’s not time to push yet…. It can’t be” you added so quietly, whispering to yourself. Hoping.

“The baby feels so so low…ughhh… even without a contraction the pressure… so much pressure.”

“I know darling, but you’ve got this. We’ll be back on the ground before we know it. Just hold on a little bit longer.” You look skyward, pleading to the universe. You really didn’t want to have to deliver this baby at 2,000 feet.

As the balloon dropped to its new level, the basket got caught on a rogue strong gust of wind, jolting everything and everyone inside as it swayed abruptly. With our arms wrapped around each other, we nearly toppled over but managed to stay upright as we both instinctually widened our knees for balance.

“Are you okay?” You ask me, our hearts thumping in shock.

I could only nod as another contraction started not long after the basket steadied itself.

“Jeeze, Jimmy what the hell was that?!” You shout towards our pilot.

“Sorry guys, that was a bit of a rough one.” He joked, readjusting his equipment that had dislodged

Meanwhile the contraction raged through me, every muscle seemingly tense and solid. My hips were screaming, forced apart by the large head barrelling towards my cervix. The pressure… it was too much. My knees were too wide. I couldn’t hold off any longer, I had to push…my body deciding to act of its own accord. Bearing down, a long and low grunt suddenly rattles from my throat against your neck.

~•~

I’d been paying careful attention to your grunts and moans over the past hour or so as concern grew and grew, but the new noises you were making were different. I looked at your face and saw your scrunched up eyes, the blown out cheeks and I suddenly realised.

“No!” I snapped. You didn’t respond. “Don’t push, baby, you can’t. You need to be checked. You know you can’t push until you’re fully dilated. Please… don’t want you to get injured.”

The end of the push came, you opened your eyes. There were tears there, frustration, pain, panic… who knows but all you could answer in response was “I have to push right now!” Soon you’re at it again.

~•~

“Can’t- help- it…mnghhhhhh!” My hands claw at your shoulders, using you to balance as my hips sink lower and my body pushes hard. “Oooohh… I can feel it… baby is moving…down!”

“Shit. Okay, okay.” You try and rationalise and plan, working out what the hell we were going to do now. “Baby, is this it? Is this really happening now?” You ask me.

“Ughhh! I think so… feels very real to me hooo!”

“Then we’ve got to take your panties off. We need to see if you’re fully dilated, if you should even be pushing right now.” Your brows furrow with concern and sympathy with every hitch of breath and groan of pain, knowing this was about to escalate very quickly.

Your hands disappear under my dress and find the dampened fabric of my underwear from my broken waters. You roll them down my thighs but keep them hidden from view beneath my knee-length dress, not wanting to alert Jimmy to what was happening. It was just you and me right now.

“Tell me when this contraction is over, then I can try and see if I can work out how dilated you are.” You say softly, trying to keep me calm and reassured in this far-from-ideal situation.

I nod in understanding, grunting once more in an uncontrollable push before gasping for breath at its end. “Hoooo-hoooo I think it’s passed…” I croak quietly to you.

~•~

I look up to check and see Jimmy occupying himself with his duties, not looking at us. Blowing out my own breath to calm myself I lower you down, so you’re on your hands and knees in front of me.

I stand up and move around behind you. Lifting the back of your dress up, I roll it up to expose your ass, your wide opened legs stretching your panties around your knees.

I let out an involuntary gasp. It’s not lost on you.

“What is it” you gasp. I describe the scene in front of me. Whilst your lips hadn’t yet parted, the baby’s head was definitely bulging, sitting just inside of you. I’d no medical training, but could only presume that we were at the stage where each push had the head begin to show and retreat as you stopped the effort. I explained to you that we were well past the point of needing to check your dilation, and right now we need to get you more comfortable to push… first task will be to get those panties off you so you could open up freely.

I looked up and that’s when I saw Jimmy looking straight at us, wide eyed like a deer caught in the headlights.

~•~

“I hope you’ve got some blankets or something up here Jimmy, cos this baby is going to be born before we reach the ground.” You warn him sternly, snapping him out of his panicked staring.

Ignoring our pilot, you focus your attention back to me - shifting and squirming on hands and knees, the dress still lifted showing just how close the baby was to this world.

“How are you holding up darling?” You ask quietly to me.

“Mhhhh- like there’s a bowling ball stuck in my vagina-” I snap with a gruff.

“Right let’s get those panties off before the next contraction so you’re free to move.”

My hands and knees were planted so heavily on the floor of the basket, I couldn’t move. The idea of raising either of my knees to free my underwear seemed too Herculean a task. You had to manoeuvre around me, holding me steady and pulled the garment free from my legs.

As soon as I was free my knees automatically spread opening up my hips further to ease the unbearable pressure in my pelvis. I know you wanted to move me for the next contraction, but I could already feel it approaching. Pressure was building and building, the baby pushing against my opening. With my ass still on full display I went down to my elbows, my forehead almost kissing the floor with my hips up pointing to the sky, and I succumbed to my instincts and pushed.

You held me steady as I pushed, watching in fascination as the bulge got bigger. The sounds I was making had turned primal, instinctual, and you could tell I had mentally retreated into myself and on the job I had to do.

“Oh my god… I think I can see the head!” You cried out after a forceful push showed the smallest sliver of the baby’s head appear just behind my lips.

~•~

My exclamation caused you to lose your focus, immediately stoping pushing and causing the sliver of the head to slide back in. Biology won out though as you were forced to push again only a few moments later and once more the first glimpse of our baby was clear to see again.

You grunt with relief as the contraction finally passed - with the head slipping back out of view again - but you were buoyed by my enthusiasm.

Jimmy, taking a moment to interrupt with a cough managed “sorry no towels or anything… it’s not intended to be used for ferrying the sick, wounded or I guess labouring mothers to be”

“Help me up” you gasp as you pull on my arms. I move around to grab you under the armpits and heave you up, you dress slipping back down your legs covering your modesty again.

“Here it comes” you grunt as you echo the position you’d been in only a moment ago, your arms under my armpits, one hand holding the other wrist, the other gripping tight to my tee shirt in a balled fist. You planted your legs wide and almost growled with effort as the next contraction ramped up.

~•~

My body trembled against you as I pushed, my arms so tight around you grasping at your clothes. Your frame the only thing keeping me upright, the smell of your aftershave the only thing keeping me from panicking. It was an effort to get up but I needed the gravity, something telling me to stand up, to bring the baby down.

“Oh god…” I moaned out heavily against your neck “I can f-feel the head…” my knees squatting slightly during the push, opening up for the baby to peak through.

But when the contraction was over, and the pushing stopped, the head slipped backwards and I whimpered a sob on your shoulder.

The effort of pushing had dampened the back of my neck and hair with sweat, and beads of it glistened on my forehead. Though it was early evening the sun was still bright and warm in the sky, making my temperature soar. Every pore of my skin seemed to tingle, aggravated by the fabric of my dress. My entire being was overheating. I felt like I couldn’t quite catch my breath; the air too hot, my skin too tacky.

I shifted in your arms, uncomfortable, frustrated. I needed to do something but couldn’t find the words. You noticed me pulling at the hem of my dress and knew what my subconscious was trying to do. Still holding me upright, your hands roamed my back and found the zip of my dress, pulling down, helping to free me from the cotton prison.

~•~

Your eyes opened as I reached down and grabbed the base of your dress, suddenly realising what I was doing. You stretched your arms out, hands placed lightly on my shoulders as my body raised up, pulling the dress with me as I went.

The first thing I noticed was the bump stopped the dress from coming up. I had to tug it a little to get it unstuck. I pulled it up over your breasts and over your head, then releasing it from one arm to the other until it hung loosely from my fist, draping on the floor.

The sigh of satisfaction as you felt the cool breeze rush over your exposed, overheated skin, instantly cooling you was palpable. You were now naked except for your sports bra you had put on this morning for comfort.

You gripped hard on my shoulders again, the next contraction building as you managed to grunt out “that feels so nice… but don’t you dare lose that dress. I need it to get home.”

~•~

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” You whispered back to me with a laugh.

I held on tight to you as the contraction took hold; my body pushing, squeezing, opening for the baby.

“Keep going baby, you’re doing wonderfully.” You offered words of encouragement against the moaning I was making in your ear.

“I don’t feel like I’m making any- mnghhh- progress.” I say releasing the push with a huff.

When the contraction had waned I shifted out of your hold a bit. Holding the underside of my low bump I swayed gently, facing outwards towards the stunning horizon, letting the cool breeze wash over my skin in the break I was given.

“How long til we land now?” I dared to ask our pilot, who’d been giving us a wide birth since I started openly pushing.

“We’re getting closer, I’d say just under 45 minutes.” Jimmy answered simply, completely avoiding looking in my direction.

“Do you reckon - hoooo… we’ve got any hope of making it to land before this baby c-comes?” I ask in vain, taking one hand off my bump to hold the side of the basket, my hips shifting round in wide circles.

Your hesitation gives me all the answers I need. Still you reply “Whatever happens babe, you can do this. And I’ll be right by your side.”

“Well you’re not exactly going to go anywhere.” I joke before a contraction suddenly strikes and I hiss through my teeth.

Standing in the a corner of the basket I grasp the padded railing with both hands, gripping the cushioning so hard my knuckles whiten. The baby presses lower and lower and I rock, and groan and push alongside its efforts. My hips jut backwards towards you, my back flat as I lean into the baskets edge, nearly wailing with the efforts of the push.

“Can- can you see… ohhhh…. Is it coming out now? Mghhhhh!!!” I cry out mid-push.

~•~

“I can see it baby, I can see it!” Even against all of my natural instincts to panic I’m getting invested in your progress and can’t help but get excited as things show progress. The bulge between your legs was now significantly bigger than when I had first noticed it, and whenever you were pushing, the head was forming into a genuine teardrop shape, though still not holding its place when you stopped.

“Shit” came the voice from Jimmy. Panicking, expecting to get some bad news, my eyes shoot over to him just to see him staring straight at you, focused clearly on the dark patch between your legs.

“Don’t you dare freak out or feint… there’s 4 of us in this basket relying on you to get us safely on the ground” I admonished. Jimmy in turn shook his head and thanked me, breaking his reverie and focusing back on the laptop.

Focusing back on you, you grunt as you push again. “You’re doing so good baby. I can see the head a lot when you push. Keep focused… if you want, you can reach down when you push and feel it yourself”

~•~

I tentatively release one hand's grip on the barrier, the excitement in your voice making me desperate to feel the baby. But I can’t seem to let go, the effort of pushing is too consuming and I’m scared to let go of the support. I give a loud grunt with a big push, feeling my lips starting to burn with the stretch.

But then it’s over, contraction faded, and I bring myself back up to standing. Feeling more confident without a contraction to let go of the support, I place one of my hands between my thighs and I can feel it; just behind my slightly parted lips is our baby.

“Oh my- wow!” I exclaim, making first contact with our child. “I can feel them, that’s our baby.”

“I know, and you’re doing wonderfully darling. We’ll be meeting them soon” You say, grinning ear to ear and stepping towards me.

“It’s got hair!”

“That’s not surprising, considering the amount you’ve got.” You joke and stroke the thick locks of hair that cascade past my shoulders, tucking wayward strands behind my ear.

“Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?” I ask, my fingers still delicately stroking the bit of head that’s peaking out.

“I’ve told you I don’t mind. As long as they are healthy and happy.”

“I know, I know…. I’m kinda hoping for a girl though…” I admit.

I feel the next contraction brewing, but I don’t want to remove my hand from my crotch. Instead I back into the corner of the basket, keeping one hand on my baby and the other flying out towards you for support.

My body sinks into a squat when the contraction hits and everything squeezes downwards. I take a big gulp of air and push… hard, feeling the baby’s head inch forward into my palm.

~•~

My hand reaches out to you, your hand on my shoulder and my hand in turn resting just under where your bra strap rests. As you sink down I follow you, ultimately ending on my haunches so I’m eye level with you. Whilst you’re desperate to close your eyes during the push you fight to keep them open and look into my eyes, my smiling demeanour giving you a level of comfort in this trying time. Suddenly I lean forward and place my second hand over yours so we are both cupping your lips. I feel the roundness of your hand as it envelops the bulge there and get in close. “Push!” I urge.

There’s no stopping you, your cheeks are puffed out and your brow is furrowed but you keep your eyes on me. Your mouth is wide and groaning as you make the effort but still we keep that connection.

My hand is pressed outwards as is yours as your lips part and your fingers rub the slick, surprisingly spongy mass slowly making its way out from between your legs.

You suck in your breath as you need a moment to get your strength as I say “again?” and you’re back at it, groaning loud and low, the hand on my shoulder grasping hard.

~•~

It was just you and me at that moment, the rest of the world completely shut out. You and me, together bringing our baby into the world.

My chest heaves with every rasped breath, my breasts resting atop the large pregnant swell that hung between my open thighs. My boobs had gotten bigger as I approached the end of this pregnancy and this bra was the only one that didn’t pinch.

Your eyes light up as we both feel the head sliding forwards into our hands. But the pain is astronomical and I’d lose myself entirely to it if you weren’t beside me right now. The baby fills even more of my palm and I can’t help but cry out “…Hurts…. Burning…” in between my laboured breaths.

The contraction starts to ebb away but I don’t want to lose this progress. It’s almost too much to bear if the baby slides back again now. I give a final long grunt, pushing as hard as I could while the contraction was still present, huffing as I release the push and hoping the baby stays put.

~•~

I watch in awe as I see you put incredible effort into a push, your face both incredibly contorted and at the same time, focused on it’s one task. Your hand moves away from between your legs, batting mine back at the same time. It twists and grabs my fingers, as my eyes sink down to the area that was previously covered.

Your hand squeezes my fingers as you let out a roaring sound, unlike any I’d heard so far. The hand on my shoulder digs in to the point where I’m certain your nails will leave embedded marks, but still my eyes focus between your legs.

In front of my eyes I see your lips spread around the head moving out, red, firey skin moulding outwards, spreading like a petal on a flower. The teardrop shape of the head, expanding outwards.

You gasp. “Burning… burning… burning, hurts” it’s almost incoherent babbling at this time, but whatever you were doing had some positive effect, as once I see your shoulders sag, right there between your legs was the most perfect oval of darkened, matted, soggy hair that I had ever seen.

“You did it baby!” I yell in triumph. That’s when I realised that you weren’t paying attention. It’s clear that at this point, there’s nothing you can do but focus on the ring of fire between your legs. It’s all consuming at this point, your knees are quivering trying not to lose control, your hands are squeezing and digging nonstop. Your eyes are closed and scrunched hard.

Youre gasping “Pull it out! Help me!” There’s nothing I can do at this point but sympathise as you struggle at this most gruelling stage of the process.

~•~

I can’t think, I can’t speak, I can’t move. I’m entirely lost in this moment; blinded by the pain of being stretched far beyond anything I thought possible. But it was more than just the spreading of my sensitive lips - my hips were wrenched apart, the baby shoved against my pelvis, the nauseating feeling of being so… full. I couldn’t take it.

My body started to tremble, you could feel it beneath the hold you had on my ribs and you could see me shaking in front of your eyes.

“I can’t do this!” I wailed, eyes scrunched and tears leaking past my lashes. “It’s too big! Uhhhh- fuck. Help me.”

“Oh baby…” you whispered, your heart breaking at seeing me in so much pain. “I know, but you are so close. You can do this.”

“I c-can’t!” I sobbed.

“Yes, you can. You are the strongest, bravest woman I have ever met. You can do anything, and you can do this. Just a little bit longer, I promise. Then when the next contraction comes, you push with everything you’ve got, okay? The head is almost here…”

I nod. That’s all I can manage. My head lolls forward, both my hands clawing at your shoulders, my entire body trembling, and we wait. We wait through agonising second after agonising second for the next contraction.

~•~

Soon it’s upon you. “It’s coming” you manage, before gripping me tightly again and dropping your chin down, closing your eyes and giving it all you’ve got.

I watch the oval shape between your legs quiver and a few seconds later start to move. You gasp, taking a breath and start again, still in mid contraction. More movement.

“Go! Go! Go!” I’m chanting, it seems to help. Finally your lips turn white, all blood drained from around them as they are stretched to their widest point.

You gasp and start panting, something primal in your memories from videos we have watched telling you to pant out the last push, and suddenly there’s a rush. You jump. There’s a gush of more fluid. My eyes go wide, and teary, what I’m seeing seems both the most natural thing in the world and at the same time the most unreal thing ever.

Deep in your squat, dangling between your legs, is the back of a baby’s head.

Your hand lets go of mine and reaches down to hold it. You’re bewildered, somewhat exhausted and sore, but you’ve accomplished a major milestone.

~•~

Gasping, my fingers delicately roam the whole circumference of the head that’s now outside of me. “Oh… hi baby.” I say softly to our child.

I look up at you and see the tears in your eyes. “Oh my god… oh my god…” I sob through my smile, not quite able to form any other words through the relief and awe of what’s just happened.

Your hand joins mine, cupping the head together as you lean forward to kiss me. It’s salty with my sweat and tears. “You, are incredible.” You whisper, our foreheads pressed together.

In no time at all, the respite is over and I’m squirming and shifting again in your arms from an approaching contraction. Letting go of our baby’s head my hands brace against my thighs.

“Hooooo- babe, need to move…” I groan, my legs and ankles suddenly protesting against the deep squatting position.

“Do whatever you need to do, where do you want to be?” You ask, trying to second guess what I’d want but also knowing I was acting entirely on natural instinct.

I couldn’t speak, instead my hands used your torso as a ladder - lifting myself up and getting down onto my knees, my feet pointed behind me in a v-shape. I felt instantly more stable, more in, kneeling so close to the floor.

The baby was on its way, its arrival immanent, I could sense it. Some primal instinct in my very DNA unlocked. I needed less physical support while on my knees so my hands released you, instead reaching behind to unclasp my bra. In my haste to remove my final layer of clothing, I forgot where we were for a moment and it was only on seeing your raised eyebrows I realise I’d whipped my bra off and casually thrown it overboard.

~•~

I couldn’t help it. I knew instinctively that I should be looking at you, but something made me follow the trajectory of your discarded underwear as I watched it soar over the side. My eyes followed it over the edge and as I lifted myself up off my haunches back to standing, I noticed the ground was very much closer than what I had expected.

“Jimmy… what’s happening?” I bellow out to our pilot. My brain went ‘he’s fainted, we’re going to crash’ and my natural instinct was to panic, but my eyes were drawn back to you, kneeling on the ground, hands back between your legs supporting the head of our baby. I couldn’t turn and look for him. Thankfully he returned the question with his own shouted answer.

“We’re nearly there. School field is just over there.” Relieved at his response, I briefly turned my head to look at him, to look at where his hand was pointing. I followed the direction and I saw blue lights in the distance. I saw a wide open area, which was the football and athletic fields of a school. I didn’t recognise it, but I knew we were nearly down. Your bra had landed in some unfortunate persons back garden. Might be some explaining to do for the occupants later.

I heard you grunt as my attention was drawn back to you. You looked radiant, like some sort of primal goddess, nude and backlit by the sun. I saw the baby had turned and you had started to push. Your grunts were audible as you pushed your hips forward, opening up the passage for the baby, your hands gently cupping its head.

Another grunt, and the first shoulder was free. A second grunt and the second shoulder. I dashed forward and skidded to the ground, stopping just in front of you with my hands skimming the ground between your legs, and more importantly directly under the baby which was out to its torso.

And with a triumphant yell from you, it flopped down into my hands, slick, covered in vernix, remnants of blood, and flooding my hands with yet more amniotic fluid.

“You did it baby…” I’m almost shocked thinking it’s all over.

~•~

Pure relief flooded through my entire body as the baby slipped into both of our awaiting hands. My mouth was dry, my brain in shock, and I’m only able to mumble “baby… baby…” over and over as I pick up the slippery newborn and immediately bring them to my bare chest. The need to see, to hold, to nurture was completely overpowering.

When the baby made its first gurgling cry against me I thought my heart may explode. I sagged back into the floor, exhaustion taking hold, and stared at the baby in my arms. Their little scrunched up face as they cried, their tiny hands with ten little fingers, their small feet with ten tiny toes. I had to see every inch of our baby, to check they were okay, and when I readjusted them against the curves of my body I announced “It’s a girl!”

You knelt next to me in the corner of the basket, looking over my shoulder totally transfixed and enamoured with our newborn. “You did it baby, I’m so proud of you!” You cupped my head and kissed the side of my face, my cheek, my shoulder, and eventually my lips. You couldn’t stop the emotional wave washing over you at the sight of your wife and newborn daughter beside you, wrapped in your arms.

I couldn’t quite believe it was over - the baby was here. Born in the basket of a hot air balloon. I stared down at our daughter and giggled to myself.

“What is it?” You asked, not able to wipe the beaming smile off your face.

“I can’t believe she’s here. That that just happened. That I just gave birth in a bloody hot air balloon!” The stress from the situation and relief that we were all alright had turned to exhausted hysteria, I simply couldn’t help the laughter.

“I guess she just wanted to make a grand entrance into this world.” You cooed, looking down at the infant already nuzzled against my breast.

“I think she might be a little troublemaker.”

“Just like her mother then.” You teased, kissing me again.

~•~

“Hang on tight” comes a call from Jimmy giving us a few seconds of warning where I grabbed hold of you as the balloon finally touched the ground with a thump. I threw your dress over you to cover your modesty as I got up to walk over and thank Jimmy for how well he had done in outrageous circumstances.

As I saw 2 paramedics dash towards the balloon as the gas valves were cut and the balloon itself started sinking to the ground behind us, I heard you give another groan.

“Baby?” I turn and look at you.

“I don’t know… another contraction.” You replied.

I dashed over. “No, can’t be. We had scans… there was only one baby in there.”

As the first paramedic threw their bag over the side of the basket at vaulted over the top I looked at them pleading.

“I don’t know what’s happening. The baby is born but she’s still having contractions. Is something wrong?”

“Let’s take a look see and figure this out, I’m sure it’s fine” came the professional sounding reply as his partner came on board.

They knelt down and looked you over, checking over the baby and declaring that everything was ok. They took a moment to clamp the baby’s cord, and rubbed your belly a little.

“Ok my dear… this looks good. Give me a good strong push” they instructed.

I gasped “is there another in there? We didn’t know.” The stress of the day was getting to me.

“No sir. Your wife is just ready to pass the afterbirth.” As he said it, he collected the placenta from between your legs and checked it over for completeness. “Well done, looks like this is about as close to a textbook delivery as can be… you know except for flying through the air whilst doing it.”

To say I breathed a sigh of relief would be an understatement.

#birth kink #birth fic #public birth #inconvenient birth #birth fiction #birth roleplay #birth rp #pregnancy rp #labor roleplay #my writing

241 notes · View notes

silentglassbreak · 2 months

Note

hi bestie is it too late to request? you said you liked writing angst, well, i love reading it 💔💔painfully unrequited love!!!!! gimme gimme

friends with benefits with (overly affectionate!!!!) Noah and reader who falls sick to her stomach head over heels in love with him. blurring the lines between sex and love.

going to a bad omens concert however long after and it’s like they’re strangers oOF rip my heart out and stomp on it idc. been listening to Novocaine on a loop all day. i’m not okay

feel to totally disregard if you’re not feeling it angel <33 thank you bby I love your writing 🥺🥺

Angst............. UGH I've been WAITING babes. My goal is to rip your heart out...fair fucking warning. MMMLOVEYOUUUUU. After Writing Notes: I'm the actual worst. I hope you don't hate it!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, lots and lots of angst

Can You Feel My Heart

Love languages are such a strange concept, aren't they? That seems to be a fairly new idea that someone came up with in the last decade or so?

If you like to buy love...your love language is gifting.

If you can't communicate well...your love language is affection.

If the only way you know how to show feelings is with sex...your love language is intimacy.

At what point are we allowed to call someone out for being a dick? At what point are we allowed to confront the fact that someone is skipping around the idea of commitment, and ask them to just admit what they really want?

This wasn't the first time these thoughts had danced around my head, in the wee hours of the morning, while Noah's arm laid heavy across my waist, him snoozing behind me.

Noah and I had been friends since we were seven years old. We met on the playground at the park in the center of the neighborhood of our small town in West Virginia. He told me he liked my butterfly hair clips, and I let him have the blue one. He wore it in his hair every day for three weeks.

He grew up in a broken home, only his Mom around most of his years, and even then - that relationship was...strained. So many nights he had snuck into my bedroom window, curling up next to me, tears free falling down his cheeks. We never talked about why, but it didn't take a psychic to figure it out.

He moved in with his Grandmother when he was fourteen, and even though he lived in the next town over, he still made it a point to take the city bus to me every day after school, even when he dropped out.

We were never more than twin flames, incapable of existing without each other, moral support for the other during any type of hardship. Looking back, I guess that was what built our serious dependence issues.

"I can't live without you, Y/N. I'll die if I ever lose you."

"No you won't Noah, don't be stupid."

He was stupid. As stupid as they come, because when I turned eighteen, and started college, he had paid one of his friends to drive him all the way up to Columbus to see me. He showed up at the door of my dorm, drunk and broken, blathering on about how only having been away from me for a week had killed him, and he needed to see me.

That was the first night he kissed me, and I let him.

As most people do when having grown up with someone so closely, I had developed an attachment to Noah very early on. I first recognized it when he turned twelve, and started skateboarding. He would insist on trying to teach me how, despite my undeniable clumsiness. His hands would grip my hips, his face so close to my ear, and his chest pressed to my back. He would talk in this deep voice, his puberty hitting early. I was awe-struck.

He was my best friend, sure. But he belonged to me, that's what he always said.

Even when he had girlfriends, I always came first. Dates would get cancelled for me; plans changed. Hell, he even blew off one girl whose birthday fell on the same day as mine. I was his priority. I was his person.

So when he leaned in to me, sitting on the edge of my mattress in the dorm, liquor stained-breath against my face, I just closed my eyes and let it happen.

He spent the night with me, and had to leave early. Vowing to come back, he never broke his word.

There he was the following weekend, sober this time, with snacks, DVDs, and a week’s worth of clothes. I managed to hide him in my room for four days before the dorm advisor caught him.

The second day he was there was the first time we had sex. I was a virgin, and he was not. That hurt me, sure. Not enough to deny him what was rightfully his. I belonged to Noah, body and soul. He took his time, walked me through it, and gave me the best possible experience I could expect. It hurt, and it was weird, but a sense of relief washed over me.

We had finally crossed that threshold. We had sex three times that week, until he was forced to leave.

That's when the words left his mouth.

"We need to talk."

That conversation broke something inside of me. He loved me, but he didn't love me. He was honored to have been allowed to give me something so meaningful, but he could never see me as more than his best friend. Our friendship was too important, and he wouldn't even allow himself to entertain the idea of jeopardizing that. He had made up his mind, and he couldn't have feelings for me.

It was with the heaviest heart imaginable, I sucked back my tears, painted an easy smile on my face, and held his hands in mine.

"I totally understand, Noah. No worries! We can just have fun, you know?"

And that was it. We were stuck in this sick, frozen place for the last two years. I was about to finish my Associates in Columbus, and hoped to become pre-med at Boston U, but Noah didn't know that yet. I could never figure out how to tell him.

Noah Davis was this heavy, bright flame that I was desperately afraid to extinguish. He had formed a band right after our arrangement began, and he was twenty-four hours away from leaving on their first major tour that would take him around the entire country, and then across the Atlantic to Europe.

How could I tell him that while he was gone, I was likely moving even further, and starting my life without him?

I didn't want to live without him, but he was leaving, and I couldn't sit and wait forever...

I breathed out a sigh, the light beginning to stream in the window of my one-bedroom apartment. He needed to wake up, drive home, and make sure he was ready to leave tomorrow. It was only 6AM, so I knew he'd be cranky, but I couldn't put this off any longer.

“Noah?” I breathed out his name. He groaned in response. “You’ve got to get up. You have to get ready to head home.”

"Mm, ten more minutes." I rolled my eyes, and began sliding out from underneath him.

His arm locked, and held me in place. I giggled, and saw as he turned his face, one eye cracking open. "Don't get up. It's too early."

I narrowed my eyes. "I have class at 8AM."

Noah used his strength against me, pulling my body to him and holding me tight so I couldn't get up. This only made me laugh louder.

"You don't need to get up for another hour."

"Not if I want to shower."

He sighed into the pillow. "So crazy, cause I don't think you do."

I rolled my eyes. "Dude, you've got to get home. Nick will kill us both if you're not ready in time."

"I'm not scared of her." He smirked, and I smacked his arm.

"Shut up. And get off me!"

He stuck his bottom lip out, pouting heavily.

"Not going to work. C'mon." I wriggled hard enough to break his grip, and sat up, stretching my arms over my head. He sat up as well, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

I pulled a robe over myself, turning to look at him as he scrolled through his phone, checking messages.

"Coffee?" I asked, and he threw a thumbs up at me.

I left the room, headed for the kitchen, trying to keep my breathing even. I had very little time left.

Filling the pot with water, I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, his face burying in my neck.

"I don't want to go. I'm going to miss you so much."

I leaned into the touch, taking anything I could at this point. "I know. I'll miss you more."

He scoffed. "Not a chance."

Holding me for a few more moments, he let go to head to the fridge, pulling out the bagels and cream cheese, and plopping down at the dining table. I continued my work of preparing our coffee.

"Hey, uh," I started, keeping my voice as calm as I could. "there's something I wanted to chat with you about."

I turned around, two hot mugs in my hand. He was spreading the cream on a bagel, already having prepared one for me. I sat next to him at the table.

"What's up?" He didn't look up at me.

"I told you I had been trying to decide where to start medical school?" He just nodded in response. "Well, I find out today if I got into Boston."

He halted, his eyes snapping up to me. "Boston?"

I took a sip of coffee. "They've got the best med program on the East coast-"

He cut me off. "Since when were you looking on the East coast?"

His tone was darkening. This was going to go about as well as I expected.

"Since I realized I had a chance. Noah, my GPA and scholar program gives me a real shot."

He grit his teeth, setting his bagel down. "Boston is far, Y/N."

I kept calm, setting my mug down as well. "I know."

"So, why would you want to be so far away?"

"Well, you're going far too, Noah. Your first show is in San Diego."

He sat back in his chair. "Yeah, but the last one puts me right back here in Columbus for a month before I go overseas."

I nodded. "I know. I'll still be here, then. You get back six weeks before the end of the semester."

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You can't go to Boston."

There was a finality to his tone, and something about it made my insides flinch with irritation.

"Oh no? And if I do?"

"You can't."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Can't? And since when do you tell me what I can and can't do?"

He rolled his eyes, standing from the table and walking over to the trash, binning the half of his bagel he didn't eat. "We can't be that far away from each other."

Lifting my eyebrows, I stood as well, crossing my arms. "And why is that, Noah?"

He leaned back against the counter. "Y/N, you know why."

"What? So you have someone to fuck whenever you want? Whenever one of your little groupies isn't around?"

His eyes popped open, then. "What?"

"You heard me." My tone was deadly, matching my stare at him.

"You really think the only reason I want you close is because of the sex?" He seemed truly stunned.

"Well, why else would you want me around?" I threw my hands up, walking back down the hallway toward my bedroom. I could hear his footfall behind me. I just continued, stepping into the closet to get dressed.

"What is that supposed to mean? I always want you around."

Rolling my eyes, I clasped my bra on and popped my head out to look at him. "Noah, I'm convenient for you. Unless you have any other valid reasons to keep coming over, I don't know why else it matters."

His jaw dropped open. "That is not true."

Pulling my shirt on, I scoffed. "Please, dude. Spare me the act, okay?"

"What act?"

I pulled my jeans on, buttoning them before stepping out to face him again. "The 'you're my person, and I can't lose you' act." I quoted myself. Something about that pissed him off, because he crossed his own arms and stared me down.

"The fuck are you getting at, Y/N?"

I shook my head, brushing past him, and walked toward the bathroom.

"Noah," I turned to look directly at him. "we've been at this for years. It's kind of old, don't you think?"

His face softened slightly. "We had an agreement."

I nodded. "You're right, we did. Just sex, for the sake of our friendship. That's what you wanted."

"I thought that's what we wanted."

Waving a hand between us, I took a step toward him. "Oh no, Noah. That's what you wanted. Not me."

He was silent, then.

"I wanted more. I always have. I thought that had become clear over the years, but I fucking guess not." I could hear my voice raising a few octaves. "You didn't give me a choice. You came in, broke that boundary, and then put it right back up again. And I stayed, just so I wouldn't lose you."

I could feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes.

His voice came out small, then, his hands now buried in his pockets.

"What do you want from me, Y/N?"

I sighed, letting one tear escape. "I want you to love me."

He pulled his hands out, stepping toward me and taking one of mine. I let him.

"I do love you!"

I stared at him, my teeth ground together. "Do you? The way I love you?"

Noah was a lot of things. He was brilliant, funny, generous, dedicated. He had the most redeeming qualities of anyone I knew.

And sure, he could be stupid. But not that stupid.

He had known how I felt about him. Of course he did. That was why I kissed him every chance I got. Why I always let him in. Why I never dated anyone else. Why I stayed all this time.

But here? In this moment? He was the biggest idiot I knew, because he dropped my hand, his eyes falling with it, and took a step backward.

"I..." He huffed out a breath, looking back up at my tear-stained face. "I can't. I'm sorry."

I averted my eyes, then. I could feel myself breaking, crumbling right before him.

"You need to leave, Noah."

I could feel he wanted to pull back to me, like a moon in orbit of a planet. Gravity. But he didn't. He just stepped back toward the doorway.

"What does this mean?" I heard his voice, but wouldn't meet his eyes.

I sniffed hard, trying like hell to keep myself upright.

"It means you go on tour. Be who you are, Noah. And I'll be who I am. Without each other."

His body shifted, but I was stone, unmoving.

"I can't lose you." I heard him let out a light, sarcastic laugh. "I'll die."

I let myself laugh at that.

"No you won't, Noah. Don't be stupid."

7 Years Later

Residency is going to kill me. I may actually die in pursuit of this God awful career I've chosen. I was three years in to a five year program, intending to finish in General Practice, but until that time, I was just an idiotic twenty-seven year-old with no life, no sleep, and no clean fucking clothes to wear.

Every resident gets exactly forty-eight hours of paid time off every three months, and I had not taken mine in over a year. I finally had taken all of my hours - six days total - off of work, and after spending the entire first day sleeping, I was due to meet with Raylene in an hour.

Ray and I met at the beginning of residency, and quickly gotten close. We managed to find an affordable apartment together within walking distance of the hospital, and spent any rare free time we had together. She was currently at her boyfriend's place, spending some much needed time with him, before we went out for the evening.

I was digging through my unfolded laundry, trying to find something not too wrinkled or stained to wear tonight. Ray had told me we were going to a concert for a band she had recently discovered, but she didn't tell me who it was. I didn't care, to be honest. Existing somewhere other than the Emergency Room or my own bed sounded heavenly.

Finally settling on a deep red cropped t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and the Vans I rarely got to wear, I straightened my hair and applied what little makeup I could. I set out of the building to the waiting vehicle downstairs, Ray practically hanging from the passenger window.

"You look so fine!"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Sure. Like I might've slept in the last two weeks?"

She chortled back at me, leaning in her seat once I was in the car. I waved hello to her boyfriend Sean, and gazed at Ray.

"So, Tyler isn't coming."

She frowned at me. "Why not?"

I shrugged. "Said he had a case he was working on, and he really couldn't spare the time."

She rolled her eyes. "Typical lawyer. Too busy for anyone but his clients."

Tyler and I had been dating for about six months now. Maintaining a relationship while having jobs as busy as ours was difficult, but he somehow managed to work it out. He would pop in when he knew I had breaks to bring me food, or have me spend nights off at his place, massaging my neck and helping me get caught up on my favorite series. He was an honest man. A good man.

I liked him.

Right?

It's so hard to tell what's like and what's convenient when you live your life exhausted and overworked, so I didn't have a lot of time to question it.

"Bummer for him. I'm so excited to see this show!" Ray was beaming in the front seat.

"Yeah, who are we seeing, anyway?"

"A band called ERRA. They're opening for a bigger headliner, who I've heard are pretty good too."

I nodded. "I've never heard them."

"It's rock. Metal, really." Sean chimed in, and I acknowledged him silently, looking out of the window.

My mind zoned out while we drove to the House of Blues. Ray and Sean chatted idly up front, but I was just enjoying the fact that I was finally out of the house for once.

That is, until we walked into the venue. The banner poster stared at me, the photographs of the band mocking me...

Bad Omens...they were the headliner.

Memories flooded back to my brain, my insides clenching at the visions.

I hadn't spoken to him since that day...that last day in my apartment. When he left, and never looked back. I didn't even keep in touch with the rest of the guys, for fear that I would be sucked back into the maelstrom that was Noah Davis...

“Y/N?” I turned to see Ray stood behind me, noticing my reaction. “You okay?”

My mind wasn’t comprehending what I was seeing. There’s no way that was them? The last time I had heard of the band, they were one-of-four supporting bands on much larger headliners. Now, they were selling out tickets at their own tour? Seven years was a long time…but how had they gotten this popular?

I wondered this, as if I didn’t know how wildly talented those boys were. Aside from Noah, Nicky, Jolly, and Nick Folio were some of the most intelligent and creative minds I had known. They all brought something special to that band, but I would have never expected this.

Huh. Guess he could live without me after all?

Something bitter crept into the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down, staring at his photograph on the poster.

“Yeah,” I tore my eyes away for a second to look at Raylene. “sorry, I’m fine. Just didn’t realize Bad Omens was the headliner.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of them?”

I pulled my lips to the side. Did I want to tell her?

“Long time ago.”

I couldn’t get past how different he looked in the picture. Last time I saw Noah, his hair was halfway down his back, he was skinny, and he had the thinnest little mustache growing on his upper lip.

In these promo pictures, however, his hair was short, not even reaching his ears, he looked much more muscular, and he had no facial hair. He also had many more tattoos than I remembered. That wasn’t surprising. Noah was a tattoo addict from a very young age.

Jolly had let his hair grow and had the cutest goatee on his chin. Nicky looked almost exactly the same. And Nick, bless his heart, had grown into such a handsome guy. They all looked so grown, so serious and broody. It almost made me giggle, knowing how goofy these guys were in real life.

Noah looked the most stunningly different from the rest. Not only did his entire appearance change, but his eyes…something in them was just so much darker. That harsh flame I had once known was so dim. It almost hurt to see. Almost.

We were making our way out to the pit of the GA floor. I had decided to get myself a cocktail to take the edge off. I didn't plan to come face-to-face with him, and likely wouldn't even get the opportunity to get a good look at him period, but still...just knowing we were in the same room made my throat tighten. I washed it down with Vodka and cranberry juice, hoping the warmth of the liquor would unfreeze my nerves.

The first band, Invent Animate, was entertaining enough. Very interactive with the crowd and high-energy. I found it pleasant, but couldn't get myself to focus long enough to notice what they were singing about. I struggled to breathe, the set ending, and knowing I was one hour closer to seeing his face.

During the intermission, Ray excused herself to the restroom, and I stood with Sean, feeling dizzier as the moments passed.

"Hey, I think I'm going to step out for a second. Get some air."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "You okay? Want me to come with?"

I shook my head. "Nah, don't want you to miss the band you guys came to see. I'll be back."

He nodded, patting me on the shoulder before I weaved in and out of the crowd. I discarded my plastic cup in a trash can before exiting out into the main lobby. I found a spot on the wall near the doors that was unoccupied, and leaned against it, letting my eyes close and my breathing even out.

When I opened my eyes, I searched the room, looking for nothing specific. I landed on the merch tables, and saw someone oddly familiar talking to the lead singer of the last band we had watched...

The liquid courage is what carried me in that direction, smiling to myself.

He stood with his hair pulled back, as usual, and was talking with his hands. Same as he always did.

"Nicky Ruffilo..." I said loud enough to hopefully catch his attention, my hands now grasping the edge of the table.

His head snapped over to look at me, his brows knit together curiously. I could tell he was putting it together.

"No fucking way..." His voice sounded the same as it always had. "Y/N?!"

My teeth flashed at him, and he circled the table to approach me, his arms pulling me into a tight hug.

"Jesus Christ, I didn't recognize you!" That was fair.

Since the last time I had seen any of the guys, I had bleached my hair a pale blonde, lost twenty-five pounds, and had grown two cup sizes. I was, for all intents and purposes, an entirely different person.

"Yeah, well I absolutely recognized you." I said as I gripped his shirt, squeezing him tight.

"How long has it been?" He asked, pulling back to look at me.

"Uh," I thought for a moment. "seven-ish years?"

Nick's eyes were in disbelief, an amazed leer on his face. "God damn, girl. I can't believe it."

I pointed to the banner above his head. "Headlining now, huh? That's amazing!"

He smiled, proudly. "Yeah, we've worked really hard. A lot's changed."

My eyes fell on Noah's face on the poster. "I can see that."

I could tell he was pondering, a question hanging on the edge of his tongue. It was the most obvious question, so I answered for him.

"He doesn't know I'm here."

He nodded, leaning an arm on the table comfortably. "Ah, okay. You didn't want him to?"

I snorted. "I didn't even know I'd be here. My friends came to see ERRA, and that's when I realized you guys were here."

"Makes sense." He had crossed his arms. "Do you want him to know?"

Contemplating this, I let my face fall to get away from his gaze. I wasn't certain how to answer that, but it seemed like the answer was clear regardless.

"No." I sighed hard. "It's probably for the best that he doesn't, right?"

I couldn't read Nick's face, if he was disappointed or relieved. He seemed to be pretty satisfied with my answer, but I could tell he had more he wished he could say.

"Fair enough." Was all he gave me, before letting out a breath. "So, you still live up here?"

I let my muscles relax for a second. "Yeah, doing a residency at Brigham right now."

"Residency? Does that mean you're a doctor?" He asked, clearly confused.

I cackled at this. "Yeah, full blown doctor. Got the little 'MD' after my name and everything."

He beamed at me. "That's so great! Congratulations!"

"Thank you, Nicky." It fell quiet between us once again, and I could hear ERRA's set beginning. "Well, I should probably-"

He spoke over me. "Yeah! Those guys put on a great show. Don't miss it!"

I gave him another hug, reveling in how warm he still felt.

Turning to walk away, I stopped, needing one last thing...

"Nick?"

His face turned back to me.

"How is he?"

I could see the sadness fall over his tan features, and I instantly regretted asking.

"He's..." He trailed off, taking in a large breath. "He's different, Y/N. I doubt you'd recognize him."

"How so?"

Something about my question almost seemed to annoy him. Odd?

"Like I said, a lot has changed. He's changed. He had to." He gestured to me. "Same way you did."

I accepted this, not wanting to press any further. "Thanks, Nick."

He pointed a finger at me. "Hey, we're going to be back here in the fall for a couple days. Don't be a stranger, okay?" I grinned at this. "I know Jolly and Folio would kill to see you."

I just nodded, turning and walking away. My eyes met with Ray's, who was standing, watching my interaction. How much had she seen? Did she hear anything?

"Hey, what are you doing? You're missing ERRA!"

Her brows were pulled up suspiciously. "Who was that?" She pointed after Nick, who had now disappeared from the merch table.

I shook my head. "Oh, that guy? He's the bassist in the headliner band."

This wasn't good enough for her, I could tell by the way she pursed her lips. "Uh-huh. And...you just decided to chat him up like old friends?"

I groaned. "Ugh, how long were you standing there?"

She put all her weight on one hip. "Long enough to see you two talking like you've known each other before. Care to explain?"

Raylene was so nosey. She came by it honestly, her father being a police detective. But still, why did this matter?

"It's not a big deal, Ray. I'll tell you later."

I pulled on her arm, trying to lead her back to the concert hall, but she stood firm, eyeing me. I sucked my teeth in frustration.

"Damn it, alright, come here."

She followed me to the doors leading outside, and we stepped into the cool air.

"Alright, look, I've known Nick since I was ten."

Her eyes jumped. "Oh? Back in West Virginia?"

I nodded. "Exactly. I had no idea their band was going to be here."

"Do you know anyone else in the band?"

I glanced around, feeling wildly uncomfortable by the conversation.

"I may know the entire band."

Her eyes exploded, nearly shooting out of her face cartoonistically.

"What?! The whole band?" I just nodded. "Jesus, Y/N. That's insane!"

I giggled. "I guess. It's just a coincidence."

She smiled at me. "Well that's awesome! Do you want to see the rest of them after? They're doing a free merch signing."

Panic filled my chest, and I put a hand out to grab her shoulder. "No, no. I don't, uh..." I tried to keep my voice solid. "I don't keep in touch with them anymore."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh? Okay, if you're sure." Something in my voice must have made her feel my anxiety.

We turned, ready to make our way back inside.

"It is too bad. The lead singer's a real looker. I heard one of the girls in the crowd say his name was Noah Sebastian? He's pretty cute."

I almost walked straight into the door, my foot banging off of the pillar. Ray turned around to see me, and something about the look on my face made realization flash over her.

"Oh my God, are you ok-" She stopped dead, eyes widening again. "Wait..."

"Ray, don't." I knew what she had figured out.

"Noah..." I put my hands up, glancing around to ensure no one was looking at us. "As in...Noah? Your old best friend?!"

I shushed her harshly. "Please, Ray. I don't want to think about this."

"That's the guy?! Noah Sebastian is the guy that broke your heart?!"

I was going to actually vomit at that.

"Fuck! Can we not?!" I raised my voice, which made her snap her mouth closed. "Besides, I don't know a Noah Sebastian."

She looked confused. "Is that not his real name?"

I rolled my eyes, turning to walk back in. "It's his middle name."

I spaced out most of what was left of ERRA's set, just trying to put the pieces back together in my brain. This night had not turned into what I had hoped.

I just wanted one night, an easy night, to take a deep breath away from my hectic life. Instead, I was reliving some of my most painful memories, and had a headache to go right along with it from the alcohol. My chest vibrated, the bass just making it so much more difficult to focus.

I stood off of the GA floor, near the bar area, not even realizing the band had finished, and people were swarming to grab drinks and use the restrooms before the men of the evening appeared. Ray approached me, another Vodka cran in her hand, and pushed it into mine.

"Here my love, drink this." I took a long gulp of it. "Do you want us to go? We don't have to stay..."

My eyes were fixed on the stage, where I could see people setting up the equipment. "No." I huffed out a breath, and squeezed my cup. "No, I want to see them play, I think."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're sure? This can't be easy for you."

My eyes burned into her face, which almost made her flinch. "I may never get to see him again, Ray. I have to."

She just nodded, arm linking with mine. "You want to watch from up here?"

I nodded, crunching on a piece of ice from my drink. "No chance of him spotting me back here."

She affirmed my request, and leaned back against the wall with me.

I felt my phone vibrate, and I pulled it from my pocket to see Tyler's name on the screen.

Tyler: Hey beautiful! How's the show?

I held my breath. What kind of a question was that?

Me: Fine. Almost over, just one band left.

He didn't take but a minute to respond.

Tyler: Having fun?

Ha, what a joke.

Me: Yeah. I've had some drinks, so it's helping.

Tyler: Well, enjoy it baby! You deserve it.

That wasn't fair. None of it was. Having to see Noah? The fact that I had an amazing guy, who genuinely liked me, who waited for me. But I still couldn't get my mind off of that irritatingly beautiful face about to take the stage.

The lights went down, and I felt myself tense, throwing back the rest of my drink. My teeth were numb, if that made any sense at all. Ray's hand gripped mine tight, holding me up.

A cinematic scene played on the screens, but I wasn't watching, eyes hastily searching the stage.

A tall man, who I instantly recognized as Jolly, stepped center-stage, a guitar in his hand playing the opening riff to the song. It was heavy, deep and soul shaking.

Folio came out next, his face, like Jolly's, covered in a black ski mask.

Nick took his spot, playing his bass tones.

And then, as the opening crescendoed, a voice rang through the speakers.

A voice I'd never forget.

"Can you hear me through the white noise?"

He blasted onto the stage, glory and all, face covered and thick black jacket on his shoulders.

He sounded different. Angry. Raw, Aggressive. The feeling that sank in my stomach pulled me back further against the wall.

The song played through, his words pulsing through my veins.

As quick as it had started, it was over, and we were on to the next.

The next track was calmer, red lights glowing all throughout the stage.

They had all removed their masks, and I saw his face for the first time. He looked so much older, making it difficult for me to believe he was the same person.

The words of the song resonated deep in my thoughts.

"I don't want to know all your secrets, cause I'll tell. It's hard enough being alone with myself. I don't know how long I'll be holding on..."

Breathing deeply, I watched as the crowd moved with the music, electrifying the energy in the room. It was intoxicating.

Noah had changed...

The set played on without hitch, the entire time I caught myself holding in breaths until I felt my lungs nearly bursting. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, feeling the familiar ache beginning to creep back in.

The music stopped, and a bunch of lights came up. By this time, Noah had discarded his jacket, button-up, and only stood in a black tank top, hands wrapped in what looked like boxing wraps?

"Alright, Boston, how we feeling?" His speaking voice even sounded different...

The crowd erupted.

"We are Bad Omens, and we sincerely appreciate you all being here tonight. The next song we are going to play for you all has been the biggest turning point this band has ever seen." I heard the screams, and did my best to tune them out so I could hear his words. "Is anyone familiar with a song called Just Pretend?"

The room rocked with the cheers and chants of the crowd.

"That volume that I just heard? That's the volume I want to hear you sing this with me, okay? Don't worry about trying to hit the perfect note or get all of the words right. It's about us all, being here together tonight."

The music played softly behind him when his lips reached the microphone.

"I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I can wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you..."

My heart twisted in my chest.

"I'm not afraid, of the war you've come to wage against my sins. I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend. So will you wait me out? Or will you drown me out?"

The tears pooled in my eyes. No fucking way. The song played on, mocking me with the lyrics.

"I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face. And not a day goes by where I don't think I feel the same."

"We'll try again, when we're not so different. We will make amends, till then I'll just pretend."

My hands came up to cover my face, my lip trembling hard.

"Weigh down on me. Stay till morning. Way down. Would you say I'm worthy?"

I choked on a sob, my legs pushing me forward, and I ran out of the room. I felt my stomach lurching, my mouth clamping closed as I ran toward the bathroom.

I heard Ray chasing behind me. "Y/N! Wait!"

Flying into the bathroom and finding the first open stall, I fell to my knees, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. My hands gripped my hair, tears falling hard down my face.

"Oh God, babe." Ray reached to grab my hair from me as I wretched all of the Vodka out of my stomach, my heart and soul pouring out with it.

When I finished, I let my chest heave with sobs, my hand covering my eyes in ebarrassment.

"Fuck, Ray." I said as I wiped my face with the tissue she handed me. "I've got to get the hell out of here."

She nodded. "Okay, my love. Let's do that."

After a solid twenty minutes of cleaning myself up in the bathroom, we stepped out, noticing the crowd now formed outside, waiting at the table for the band to come out for the signing. Ray was frantically dialing Sean, trying to find him among the sea of people. I just plopped myself down on the floor near the restroom, trying to relax as best as I could.

"Y/N?" I looked up at her. "I have to go find Sean. He isn't answering. Can you wait here for me?"

I just nodded, defeated. She was gone, lost within the abyss of people, and I sat, waiting, head in my hands.

I was pulled out of my stupor by the sound of cheering. The band had come out, all waving and smiling. I didn't even bother chancing a glance at him, for fear I may vomit again.

Ray had not come back yet, despite the four or five texts I had now sent her. I had been waiting for a solid thirty minutes, people watching the line and avoiding seeing his face. The ropes of the line were blocking my view of the faces sitting at the table.

After another fifteen, Ray finally bounded up to me, out of breath, Sean in tow.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry! That crowd is vicious!"

I stood slowly, the room only slightly spinning. I swallowed the dry, disgusting feeling in my throat, and began moving toward the exits that were now mostly clear.

"Let's go." She nodded at me, and took my arm. We had to wait behind several people trying to all get through the same revolving door. My skin felt spiky and cold.

"Hang on! Wait!"

A voice behind me made ice run through my veins, and I closed my eyes, begging whatever God existed to spare me in this moment.

A hand gripped my shoulder, and I tensed, turning my face, and my eyes looked straight at him.

He had spotted me, running from his table to catch me. He had to have been pretty damn sure it was me to chase after me like that. Fans began to crowd us, camera phones coming out, pictures snapping.

The look on his face was much less certain than I expected, as if he possibly made a mistake.

"I'm sorry..." His voice was unsteady. "Do I," He cleared his throat, eyes bouncing back and forth between my own. "know you?"

My eyebrows shot up. He really didn't recognize me?

He thought he did, but now...

"No. I don't think so." I spit out my words, teeth grinding together. It felt exactly the same as the last time I had seen him.

He dropped his hand, eyes still transfixed on mine. "I swore..."

I just turned my body, pressing my way past the gathered crowd, not giving him the chance to think it through.

In the car, I stared out the back window, arms wrapped around myself.

"What did he say, honey?" Ray's voice was so gentle.

"He didn't recognize me. He thought he did, but once he got up close, I guess I look too different." My words were only a peg above a whisper.

"You going to be okay? I don't have to stay at Sean's."

I just wiped the stray tear off of my cheek. "It's fine. I'd rather be alone."

A long, scalding shower, two handfuls of shredded cheese, and a solid half-hour crying session later, I was laid catatonically on my bed, eyes staring at the screen as Grey's Anatomy flashed across my screen.

I had blanked my mind out, forcing myself to let the thoughts go for the night. I was too tired and broken to let my heart hurt like this again. It took a solid year to get over Noah enough that I was able to function again. My first year of med school was disappointing, and I didn't make any friends until I made it into the second year. It took me nearly three to start dating.

I couldn't do that again.

I had been ignoring the texts going off on my phone, assuming it was Ray just checking on me for the thousandth time. I did, however, decide to take a look when I heard my ringtone going off.

Who would be calling me at 2AM?

I didn't even bother checking the screen before I put the phone up to my ear, my voice hoarse from crying.

"Hello?"

"What are the odds that you haven't changed your number after all this time?"

I sat bolt upright, my voice catching in my throat. The voice on the other end sounded nearly as wrecked as mine.

"Noah?" It barely came out.

"It's been a long time."

I cleared the newly formed phlegm out of my throat. "It has."

"I knew that was you." It sounded deadly quiet in the background of his end of the line. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming tonight?"

I sighed. "Nick told you?"

"He might've."

I groaned. "Well, I asked him not to."

"Why?"

I scoffed. "What do you mean, why?" I rubbed my eyes. "We're not exactly speaking anymore, Noah."

He hummed. "That's true."

I chewed on my lip, not having any kind of clue of what to say.

"What did you think?"

"Of the show?"

"Mhm."

I sighed. "It was good. Different than what I would have expected."

A soft laugh came through the line. "How so?"

I smiled at that. "It's just a lot different than what I expected your music to sound like."

"In a bad way?"

"No. Not at all."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." His voice was so serious. So monotone. Nothing at all like what I remembered.

The line fell silent again, and I found this irritating. What was he playing at?

"Why did you call, Noah?"

I heard a breath on the other end, and some rustling. "I don't know."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have."

"Maybe. I wanted to hear your voice."

My stomach tightened. "Now you have. I should go."

"Wait..." I held the phone firm, waiting. "I want to see you."

My heart pounded. "What?"

"I need to see you." His words were so matter-of-fact.

"I don't think so, Noah. That's not a great idea."

"It's not, but I'm asking..." He sounded so small. "Can I please see you?"

I perused the idea. "When?"

"Now?"

I scrunched up my face, sitting up again. "Now? It's after two in the morning."

"I don't care. I'll come to wherever you are."

This struck me. Maybe he hadn't changed?

"I, uh," I struggled to speak. "Noah, I don't know. I'm at home, it's late. I should be sleeping."

"Y/N?" I stopped, listening. "Please?"

I am a weak woman, and that is just plain fact. I was frantically running throughout the apartment, attempting to tidy any kind of mess I could get my hands on. Ray and I hadn't taken the time to really clean in months, so it was stressing me out. My pajama pants were hanging low on my hips, and I swam in my large sweatshirt.

My hair was falling loose around my face, and I was sure my eyes were puffy from the crying I had done. How insane was I? Had I completely lost it?

It was almost 3AM when a knock came at my apartment door, and I froze in place. What was I doing? Why was I allowing this to happen? I didn't need to do this to myself.

I was fine, living in my normal, tired bubble. I was headed towards a successful career that would take me further than I ever imagined. Why was I allowing this trainwreck of a friendship back into my life? What was I thinking?!

I wasn't. That was the answer to that question.

I opened the door, not sure what to expect on the other side. He stood, still as tall as I remembered, looming in the doorway. He wore a black hoodie, hands tucked neatly in the pocket. Dark blue jeans and black Converse. A white beanie covering his hair.

Like this, he looked almost recognizable. Except for his eyes...

Just like in the photograph I had seen earlier, his eyes were so dark. There was very little life behind them. Deep blue circles hung under the rims, making a pull in my chest show itself.

I just stood, blocking the doorway, hand white-knuckling the frame.

"Hi." Was all he managed. He was staring at me, eyes moving up and down my face as if he was seeing an apparition.

"Hi." I echoed, trying to not feel out of place under his stare.

"I'm glad you agreed to see me." He didn't move an inch, his jaw ticking closed with his last work.

I just nodded, letting out all of my air. "Yeah, well, you were insistent."

He nodded, finally looking away from me and down at the ground.

"I had to."

I pursed my lips, narrowing my eyes. "Did you?" He raised a brow at me. "Did you just have to see me? Because I think we probably would've been alright without it."

I could see his face fall, hurt by what I said, but I didn't care. He never did.

"I'm sorry. I know it's selfish."

"Mm," I pinched my lips together, and opened my door wider. "come in."

I stalked back into the house, not daring to look back at him. I heard the door shut behind me, and I steadied myself, expecting to turn around and see him vanished.

To my chagrin, he was still there.

Deciding not to stagnate, I walked into the kitchen, pulling a bottle of tea from the fridge, and walking back out to the living area. He hadn't moved, and was still staring at me.

"So." I motioned to him. "What can I do for you?"

Noah was so statuesque, as if carved right out of stone. "I don't really know."

My face lifted, a smirk on my lips. "You don't know? Noah," I placed a hand on my hip. "you show up here at 3AM, and you have no idea why?"

He shrugged, eyes begging me for mercy. "I'm sorry. I don't."

"Can you stop apologizing and just tell me why you're here?!" My patience snapped, startling even me.

This took him back, but instead of tucking tail and backing away, he stood straighter, face hardening.

"I can't tell you why I'm here if I don't know, alright?" His words were stern.

"Well you must have some kind of reason? Because this feels wildly unnecessary."

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "It is? So you didn't want to see me?"

I set my tea on the coffee table and stood nonchalantly. "Not really."

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't buy it." He took a step toward me, but I stood firm. "If you didn't you wouldn't have stayed, tonight. You would've left after you saw the band your friends went to see."

He was closer now, and it felt like a string had tethered between us, the tension slowly slacking.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to see your set. See how the band was doing."

He snickered at me. "Oh, sure. Of course." His hands finally appeared from his pockets, one running over his chin. "Which song was your favorite?"

Oop. I wasn't expecting that.

"The second one. Villain, or something?"

He nodded. "Like A Villain." Noah's eyes weren't buying it. "Which one did you like least?"

I scoffed. "I don't know, Noah? The first one?"

"Mm, and which one was that?"

I was swallowing the lump in my throat. I couldn't remember, the night blurring together.

"Uh, I don't know the name."

He took a step back, triumphant. "You weren't there for the set. You wanted to see me."

Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms. "Still as self-absorbed as ever, I see?"

"Am I wrong?"

He had me backed into a corner, and he fucking knew it.

I threw my arms up. "Fine! Maybe I did. But you wanted to see me too."

He sneered at me, venom on his lips. "Obviously, or else I wouldn't be here."

"You still haven't said why."

"Why did you want to see me?"

My voice was raising, frustration growing. "I don't know!"

"I don't know either!" He yelled back at me, and my mouth snapped closed. Noah never raised his voice at me. Not ever.

He took three long strides over to me until he was only stood a foot away.

"I didn't expect to ever see you again, Y/N! I thought you were gone forever! So imagine my surprise when I see you walking out of the House of Blues, and you deny even knowing me!"

I felt like shrinking into a ball right there on the floor, ceasing to exist.

"I wanted to see you because how could I not?! Seven fucking years, Y/N!" He backed down for a second, his breathing becoming ragged. "I've been waiting seven years."

I furrowed my brow. "Waiting?"

"For you to reach out. To tell me you missed me. To give me some kind of indication we could reconcile and be us again."

There was a fire, deep down in my gut, that I had never been able to truly extinguish. A fire Noah had lit years ago. A mine shaft burning like the depths of hell in my belly that I had buried under concrete and therapy, keeping it at bay.

In my apartment, tonight, that fire broke loose. And there was no stopping it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" I took a step forward, pressing into his space, index finger jabbing into his chest. "I was supposed to reach out?!"

He took a step back, eyes now full of fear.

"I professed my love to you, Noah! I told you I wanted you, and you fucking left!"

He puffed at me, pointing a finger back at me. "You told me to leave!'

"Yes! Because you told me you didn't love me! You told me you couldn't love me the way I loved you!"

He squeezed his lids shut tight, growling and turning away from me, taking several steps away. His hands came up, gripping the beanie on his head.

"God damn it Y/N!" He turned to look at me, a fiery rage matching my own behind his eyes. "Of course I fucking loved you!"

My heart stopped, completely motionless.

"What?"

"I've always loved you! From the moment I laid fucking eyes on you! I've never loved anyone, no one, the way I loved you!" He charged me, backing me toward the couch. "But I couldn't love you, Y/N! I wasn't good enough. I was a piss-poor high school dropout musician trying to make a name for himself, and, until recently, failing miserably."

I couldn't speak, thoughts racing so fast, I struggled to keep up.

"And you?" He pointed a finger back into my chest. "You were smart, and motivated, and you were going to make something of yourself. I couldn't drag you down with me. I couldn't force you to follow this journey with me. It would've ruined your life!"

My lungs weren't working right, and my hands were shaking. He wasn't actually saying this. I was hallucinating.

"So I left. I left to give you a chance at a real life. Which, evidently, you've managed to build without me." He took a step back, then, dropping his hands. "And I, somehow, without you."

This hurt me, hearing he had managed to become so successful, despite my involvement.

"Noah, I had no idea-"

"No," He cut me off. "you didn't."

I hadn't even caught the tears falling from my eyes, blurring my vision until he was just a watery mess in front of me.

"You didn't need me." I choked out, and he looked directly at me, inquisitively. "You've made it so far. You're a rockstar now, Noah."

He scoffed. "Y/N, you don't get it." He looked away from me, focused on the wall behind me. "I died without you. Something inside of me was lost the day I left, and I never got it back."

"Well, you're successful now, so it can't be so bad, right?"

He snorted, shaking his head. "Success always comes with a price."

My lips were wet with the tears I couldn't hold in, and I couldn't keep my breathing even. I knew he saw it, but hesitated to engage, wanting to keep a wide berth between us. I couldn't take it. It was too much.

Hearing he loved me. Hearing I had been wrong all this time. Hearing that the heartbreak I felt for so long wasn't his fault. He was protecting me, even after all these years.

"Noah?" He chanced a glance at me, and I saw his own eyes sparkling with moisture.

I couldn't take it.

I rushed him, grabbing hold of his shoulder and clinging on, desperate to find relief against him. My lips smashed into his, tearing apart the barrier I had worked so hard to build.

His hands grabbed me, holding me into place against him, his lips melted into mine, returning the kiss fervently. We were hopeless. We were hungry.

My tears didn't stop flowing, emotion pouring out of every pore. My fingers clawed at him, needing to get closer. My hand grabbed the beanie, and pulled it off of his head, his dark hair falling over his eyes. I gripped it at the scalp, trying to pull myself closer.

Feeling what I was attempting to do, his hands lifted me by the back of my legs, so I could wrap them around his midsection. I refused to disconnect the kiss, breathing in his soul. It was so real and so familiar. How I missed it like hell.

His legs carried us to the couch, where he sat us down. My legs straddled him, and I finally pulled away to tug at the sweatshirt he wore. He made quick work of pulling it up over his head while I did the same with my own. Reconnecting our lips, my hands wandered over his neck and chest, scratching at the fabric of his shirt.

His teeth caught my bottom lip, and I moaned into his mouth. His fingers pulled at the waistband of my pajama pants, and I lifted myself enough to slip them off, replacing myself on his lap. His jeans were already getting tighter as his hands smoothed up and down my thighs.

"Fucking hell." He looked down, staring at my bare breasts in front of him. "These got bigger, huh?"

I laughed, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, well, things change."

His fingers gripped around my left breast, lips falling to circle around the hardened nipple. I let my head fall back, relishing in the warm feeling spreading throughout my body.

"Still so fucking beautiful, just like I remember." I pulled at the hair on the back of his neck. "Did you miss me, baby girl?"

I ground my hips down against him in response. His hand began playing with the button of his jeans, and I moved it away to open them myself.

I stood up to pull his jeans down to his knees, his boxers bulging in the crotch.

"Oh, fuck." I sighed out. "Yeah, I missed you."

His smile then was devious, some of that regular spark shining back in his eyes. "Then show me, huh?"

Reaching into the opening of his underwear, I pulled his cock free, taking a moment to remember just how large it was. It had been a very long time since I had seen anything quite that impressive. Dipping my head down, I licked a long stripe up the shaft, lingering on the head to gather the precome leaking out.

"Holy shit." His head fell back on the couch, his eyes rolling back with it. "Mm, do that again, please?"

I smirked, looking up at him. "Only since you asked so nicely."

My tongue repeated the movement, drawing out a hard groan out of him, his legs twitching. "Fuck yeah, baby."

Without warning, I wrapped my lips around him and swallowed him as far down as my throat would allow, gagging on the tip as it struck my tonsils. His hips jolted upward, effectively fucking my throat.

"Please, Y/N, I won't last that way." He begged, his words only coming out as breaths. "I need to feel you, please."

He was begging, and I couldn't resist it. I needed him too.

I stood back up, and kneeled on either side of him, carefully lining him up with my entrance. When I sunk down, that delicious burn pierced through me, and my body collapsed onto him at the intensity of it.

"Noah, oh my God." He ran a hand up my back, allowing me a moment to adjust.

"I know, baby. I know." He soothed me, rubbing small circles into my skin.

My hips stuttered forward, needing to feel the friction. His hand reached down to grab my ass, and lifted me upward. Without warning, his hips snapped forward and fucked into me, making a sharp scream leave my lips.

My face rested on his chest, whimpers falling from my throat with each hard thrust.

"Fuck, you missed me, pretty girl?" He was panting between his words, his rhythm picking up speed. "Missed the way I fuck you?"

My eyes were rolling back, the tears from before now replaced with tears of raw pleasure.

"I'll bet you've never been fucked like this, huh?" His words were just tones of desire playing in my ears, his cock absolutely destroying me. "No one can fuck you like I can, baby. No one."

My nails dug hard into his shirt, begging for release.

"Let me know when you come, baby. Not finishing until you do."

Luckily for him, I was riding the edge so hard it was making the room spin. Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I lifted myself to look at his face.

"Noah," I searched his eyes, his hips not faltering. "I love you."

He grit his teeth, trying to focus on me and his hips at the same time. "I love you, too. So fucking much."

My face fell back down, landing on the side of his neck. "I'm going to come. Please, Noah, I'm so close..."

He, somehow, managed to pump into me harder, sending my body over the cliff and into the warm waves of my orgasm. My body went slack against him as my walls pulsed around his length.

I heard him curse, and his hips stilled. I felt him spasming inside me, and silently thanked myself for my IUD.

We laid that way, sweaty and heaving, for a solid ten minutes before either of us could find the strength to move. I slipped him out of me, and sat up to look at him. He looked absolutely wrecked, in the best possible way.

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread over me.

"Hi." Was all I could manage.

He chuckled tiredly. "Hi."

After our excursion, Noah and I had taken a few minutes to clean up, and, being as exhausted as you'd expect, decided to lay together for a while.

He told me he had to leave within a few hours to get back to his hotel, heading to the next city bright and early, so I told him I'd stay up until he had to leave.

However, in my bed, his arms wrapped tightly around me, his voice whispering sweet words in my ears, I struggled to remain conscious.

"Do you remember when I bought you that Oasis album for your fourteenth birthday? That was basically me professing my love to you."

"I was such an idiot. I should've just told you."

"You have no idea how much I've missed you. I don't think you'll ever understand."

"I'm so sorry. I wish things were different..."

And that's how I woke up, light in my bedroom far too bright, and my bed empty.

I don't know what I expected? For him to stay? Fuck off his tour to make up for lost time with me?

But still, my chest stung when I saw he had left, but I wasn't surprised.

Something had changed last night, and the darkness that lingered in the depths of my being had lifted, leaving me with a sense of hope I hadn't felt before.

When I had woken for the day, clearing the cobwebs from my eyes, I contemplated my next move. He had surely left town already, but that didn't mean I couldn't keep in touch, right?

Pulling out my phone, I found his contact, and opened a text thread.

Me: Hey, call me when you can. I think we have a lot to talk about. :)

I set my phone down on the bathroom counter, preparing to brush my teeth when my phone dinged, and the notification told me the text had failed.

Odd?

I resent it, getting the same response.

Why would my messages fail? I paid my bill, right?

Quickly dialing Ray's number, I held the phone to my ear and heard the ringing, so I knew my service was fine. Giving her a quick apology for waking her, I hung up, and went back to my texts.

His number was the same, right?

I went back to my call logs, seeing it was his number that called me last night, so it was the same as it had always been.

So...what the hell?

My finger hovered over the number for a moment, and I weighed the options before finally resolving to just call him. Make sure I wasn't losing my mind.

I held the phone to my face as I started brushing my teeth, waiting for the call to connect.

"The number you have reached is not in service. If you feel you have reached this message in error, please hang up and try your call again."

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

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tiamathh · 2 months

Text

How do they Remember You?

Note: Hi!! I'm back with another PAC :P Hope you like it! Please Like, Reblog and comment, if you do/if it resonates. Btw some of the likes are tough so like goodluck T_T. DO NOT REWORD, STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST MY WORK!!

1 -> 3

Masterlist <3

Pile 1

Hi Pile 1! Okay, you may not have had the cleanest break with whomsoever you are asking about. To begin with, this person remembers you as a bad lesson in their life I'm getting "bad news", they remember you as someone who was very blocked and stunted creatively and intuitively, someone who is not that passionate or fun and is very hesitant to do anything or even interact with them. Damn, this person has a bone to pick, they think you moved on from them too fast and don't know who you are. They remember you as someone who wastes not only money but also your talents and your potential, and when they reminisce they think you were overly infatuated with them not necessarily romantically, just in a clingy way I got, "for someone this clingy you sure moved on fast" oof.

They were definitely hung up on you for longer than you thought about them post leaving or the falling out happening. They remember you as a hopeless romantic who could easily get swept off their feet, may think you are "easy" ew I don't like that word that's mean asl. They could also remember you as someone who gives up easy and is very weak or timid about their beliefs and views, someone who can't stand their ground.

I am also feeling a burning in my chest (not a heartburn) but this person has strong STRONG feelings either one of you could have strong fire energy too, but you are kind of etched in their memory for better or for worse. I am also getting "barren field" if this is relevant for anyone, like you burnt everything they had and then just left them with nothing. They do remember you with good characteristics too I'm getting, thinking you were grounded and humble and stable with your career, knowing what you want and being thoroughly planned out.

Pile 2 (Fun fact while typing 2 I accidentally typed W which is exactly what this pile is)

Hello pile 2, this person thinks the World of you, whoever you are asking about, you made a very big and positive impact on their life and how they were shaped. Your image in their mind is one of royalty, they hold you in high regards still and remember you as a mother figure, someone warm and welcoming, who was there for them when others were not, someone with overflowing femininity and warmth who had the beauty to match it, I see someone with beautiful shiny hair that sways as the light hits it just right.

They remember you as someone who not only had a lot of luck, but also someone who brought a lot of joy and love with you wherever you went, they remember you as a karmic connection to them, destined to happen and end but some of the best moments they may have in life, I heard "taught me how to love", I'm kinda tearing up randomly, they may miss you a lot, especially your smile and your eyes.

They also remember you as someone who held a lot of power and resources, someone who had the ability to anything they want, like a jack of all trades kinda person. Not only that but, they remember you as a master manifestor, you create your own life and helped them realise what they want in life too. Whenever they are thinking or remembering what you are like, they cannot help but attach themselves to it as well it's like they cannot see you without them, they still feel a deep attachment and deep love towards you.

Pile 3 (Sighs...goodluck)

Pile 3, this person feels so wronged by you. Like they remember you as someone who used them and manipulated them, someone greedy and untrustworthy, I also heard "slimy" they could think you tricked them into something and remember you as someone who tried to blame your failures and lack of success onto the world rather than looking inwards.

Oh, this is so bad, they think you were a disappointment and burdened yourself with responsibilities you did not have the ability to handle, which led to your "demise". When they reminisce about you, they sense that you did not see something through with them, like you were supposed to complete something with them, but you left in the middle, and they are very bitter about that.

They remember you as someone greedy as I mentioned earlier and someone who used them for their money till you got into a better position and left them, that you did not wait for them. They remember you as someone who they wanted to treat as an equal, but could not because you held more power over them than they did over you. I am sorry Pile 3 this is all I can channel from them, the energy is very negative.

#pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a pile #tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot readings #tarotblr #tarot community #pac #pac reading #intuition #intuitive readings #intuitive

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moonselune · 2 months

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If your comfortable doing it, fem reader who's been nothing but kind and patient and supportive to everyone, revealing by accident they grew up in a abusive upbringing and it still affects them but they felt compared to everyone else's problems hers were minor and so not worth getting upset over. And of course everyone giving her some support this time

Oof this was hard to write, mainly bcs I'm not too good at writing serious angst, but I hope this is okay !

tw: abuse

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a rare, calm evening around the campfire. The group was in good spirits, sharing stories and laughter. You, ever the cheerful one, were in the midst of recounting a particularly funny tale from your past.

"…and that's when my father threw the table across the room because dinner was five minutes late. Good times, right?" you chuckled, the laughter trailing off as you noticed the sudden silence around the fire. The others stared at you, their expressions a mix of shock and concern.

Astarion was the first to speak, his usual playful smirk replaced with a serious look. "Did you just say your father threw a table at you?"

You blinked, realizing the gravity of what you had just let slip. "Oh, yeah. He had a bit of a temper. But, you know, it's in the past. No big deal."

Wyll leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "No big deal? That's… that's abuse. Why didn't you ever tell us?"

Karlach, her fiery nature tempered by concern, placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Yeah, why keep something like that to yourself? We're your friends. We care about you."

Shadowheart's eyes were filled with empathy as she added, "You've always been so supportive and happy. I had no idea you were carrying this with you."

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. "Everyone here has their own problems. I just didn't think mine were as bad as what some of you have been through. I didn't want to burden anyone."

Lae'zel looked at you uncharacteristically gently. "Strength is not only in battle but in sharing our burdens. You should not have faced this alone."

Minthara, her stern demeanor softened, nodded in agreement. Gale, ever the one with something to say, spoke up. "Pain is not a competition. Your experiences are valid, and they matter."

"We are a family here. We support each other, no matter the weight of our pasts." Halsin gave you a reassuring smile from across the fire.

Jaheira, who had seen much in her long life and was not terribley surprised by your admission, added with a soft yet firm tone, "You are not alone. We are here for you, just as you have always been here for us."

The weight of their words settled over you, a comforting warmth replacing the usual isolation you felt when thinking about your past. You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and vulnerability.

"Thank you, all of you," you said, your voice wavering slightly. "I guess I just got used to hiding it. But it means a lot to know I have your support."

Karlach squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, her warm smile returning. "Anytime. You're stuck with us, whether you like it or not."

Astarion, his usual humor returning, gave you a wink. "And don't worry, we'll make sure to give you a hard time about it too. Can't have you getting too serious on us."

Laughter rippled through the group, the tension easing. The fire crackled warmly, and you felt a deep sense of belonging.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate iii #karlach #minthara baenre #astarion #lae'zel #halsin the druid #halsin #jaheira #gale #bg3 astarion #shadowheart #bg3 x reader #platonic #tw abuse

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 1 month

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Hiya,

Do you think maybe you could write a Casey x Autistic!reader (not necessarily the same autistic reader from the previous ones) where casey snaps at reader after an interaction where reader thought everything was all fine and dandy, but things were in fact not fine and dandy (plus casey being under a lot of stress from work).

Ive had multiple social interactions where i get whiplashed because i thought i was doing all the right things and saying all the right things, but in fact wasn’t and getting scolded or teased (negative) about it…

-Ara

Hey, Ara! So glad to see a request from you! 💖 Every time you interact with any of my stuff, I'm like, "Oh, yay! Ara's here!" Ngl this one was hard to write. Mostly because I also have been in many social situations where I am trying so hard to do or say the right thing and end up messing things up for people I care about. There are a lot of things about being autistic that I've grown to enjoy and cherish, but this one... oof. This one's still hard. It's a little longer than my usual, but I hope it's what you're looking for! – illdowhatiwantthanks

They Go Low

Casey Novak x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: people being meanies, angst (resolved at the end though!), hurt/comfort-ish (?), explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 3.2k

Summary: It's the annual New York County Lawyers Association gala, and you're going as Casey's date. You're terrified of messing something up, socially and, well, when the worst happens...

You exhaled heavily as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your tie and your pocket square. You looked good, objectively speaking. You’d gotten a haircut the day before. The suit was custom-made and fit you like a glove. And Casey had helped you put on “just a little makeup, babe.” But you weren’t worried about looking good at the New York County Lawyers Association Gala. You were worried about acting good.

Casey came up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist. She looked so pretty it took your breath away. Full evening gown, in a deep, forest green, with a halter top, which you loved because it allowed the dress to contrast against Casey’s hair. Rich and red and glorious and one of your favorite parts of her, even if she did get self-conscious about it sometimes.

“You look so beautiful, honey,” she said, planting a light kiss on your cheek, careful not to leave any lipstick.

“Not as beautiful as you,” you told her. You knew that parties like this should be fun. What you wanted was to be a perfect partner for Casey, to be someone worth showing off at an event like this. Casey already felt like an outsider at a lot of these events because she wasn’t New York law royalty like some of the others. She didn’t come from money. She’d worked to get where she was. Hard.

You’d come a long way in accepting autism as part of yourself, even come a long way in loving yourself for it, thanks in no small part to Casey. But small talk? With strangers? It wasn’t your strong suit. You wanted so badly to make Casey proud, but you always felt like you were subpar. Like there were whole levels of conversation going on above you. You could tell they were there. You knew you were missing things, but you couldn’t tell what you were missing.

You let out another shaky breath, fidgeting, trying hard to keep your fingers quiet at your side as you stimmed, practicing for when you’d be at the gala.

“Hey,” Casey said, turning you around to look at her. You avoided her eyes, but she bent her head a bit so you had to meet them. She ruffled your hair a bit, playing with the waves, with the fluff of it at the top of your head. “You okay?”

You shrugged. “Just nervous.”

“You…” she started, straightening your suit jacket and helping you with your cufflinks. Your heart swelled; you hadn’t even asked–she just knew. “...are charming and funny and sweet. You’re so smart. You’re a great listener. You’re good with people, even if you don’t think you are.”

You nodded, drying your sweaty palms on your suit pants.

“You’re gonna be fine, honey. Alex will be there. So will Liz and Rita. If you get nervous and you can’t find me, or I’m having to talk with other people, you can always find them. They know you and they like you.”

“Okay,” you conceded, voice shaky.

In the taxi, you played with Casey’s fingers–a nervous tick that she indulged. You liked the feeling of a fresh coat of nail polish on her nails, liked to press on it, but you were careful not to press too hard and ruin it tonight.

“I like this color,” you told her, brushing the pads of your fingers along her wine-red nails.

“Me too,” she agreed. “You don’t think it looks too much like Christmas? With the dress?”

You surveyed her quickly and shook her head. “No. It looks nice. You look nice.”

Your leg started to bounce as you got closer to the venue.

“Casey, what will I even talk about? The weather!? The Bill of Rights!?” You were starting to panic a bit, even as you tried to shut it off–it was Casey’s night. You did not want her having to take care of you during the NYCLA gala.

“Well, let’s make a list, yeah?” Casey said, taking your hands and flattening them between hers to relieve the tension you held there. “You can ask about where they’re from and talk about where you’re from. That’s always a classic.”

You nodded, determined not to need help this evening.

“You could ask what type of law they practice.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Casey, I don’t know anything about law.”

She nudged you with her shoulder. “Sure you do! I talk about work all the time. Just talk about the lawyer-y stuff you know from me.”

“Okay.” You were talking more to yourself than her. “Okay, I can do that.”

Casey squeezed your hand as you exited the cab. You took a deep breath, offered her your arm, and walked in, determined to make Casey proud.

And for the most part, you did alright. Casey introduced you around during the cocktail reception, and you figured out what to say. Your go-to was making people laugh. If you could just find an anecdote, just latch onto a story that resonated with these people, then everything became easier. Then it was just a routine, like giving a rehearsed speech instead of improvising every conversation.

You ate dinner, spoke cordially, if quietly, with the other people at yours and Casey’s table, and laughed in all the right spots at the program. You’d even managed to keep your stimming to a minimum.

But now the night was winding down. Groups of lawyers were scattered about the room. When you returned from the restroom, Casey seemed in deep conversation with a few other people, and you didn’t want to interrupt, so you went to stand by the bar, nursing your last cocktail of the night and trying desperately not to look awkward or out-of-place.

A tall man, imposing, but with a friendly face, approached the bar, ordered a dirty martini, and stood nearby. He nodded at you, and you nodded back.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he said.

“Yeah, I don’t attend a whole lot of lawyer events,” you replied, taking a quick sip.

The man laughed. That had been one of your best lines of the night.

He introduced himself, extending his hand. “Trevor Langan.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You shook his hand, flashbacks of practicing a “firm handshake” with your dad in the back of your mind.

“So what brings you to the NYCLA gala, if you’re not a lawyer?”

“Oh, um, do you know Casey Novak? She’s in the Manhattan DA’s office?”

Langan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, sure! Casey and I go way back.”

You smiled, glad to have something to talk about, something you could talk about forever–Casey. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Ah,” Langan said, tipping his drink toward you, as if in a toast. “Lucky woman.”

“Her or me?”

He burst out laughing and you tried to laugh along, too, even though it had been a genuine question.

“Good one.” He took a sip of his martini. “In all seriousness, though, Casey knows her stuff. She doesn’t crack. Hard to believe she’s human sometimes.”

Oh, now you could hit your stride. Casey as a person. You loved getting to show off Casey’s soft side.

“She’s great at her job,” you agreed. “Not that I know a ton about being a lawyer, but… she struggles, too, you know? Some of the SVU cases can be really emotionally difficult. Like, I know she’s working on one right now that’s really taking a toll.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? What’s the case?”

“There’s this serial rapist,” you explained. “Apparently, they’ve been trying to nail him for years. They had DNA evidence linking him to one of the rapes, but I guess the judge threw it out recently? Not really sure why… But Casey says there’s not a whole lot else to go on, so she’s been working really hard with SVU to dig up more evidence.”

“Huh,” Langan said, nodding toward Casey as she made her toward you both. “Sounds like it might be a lost cause.”

You shook your head, leaning into Casey as she placed her hand on the small of your back. “Nothing’s a lost cause with Casey. Right, honey? I was telling Trevor about that case you’re working on.”

Casey seemed to grow stiff beside you. “The serial rape case?” she asked, and you had to look at her face to confirm what you were hearing. She looked… angry? Scared? You couldn’t quite tell, but it was some flavor of upset. Maybe she was still worried about the case…

“Yeah,” you confirmed, hoping to lift her spirits with a little optimism. “You know, about how hard it is right now because the judge threw out the DNA, but that you’ve got it because you always do.”

She gripped your hand tightly, so tightly it almost hurt, and glared at Langan. “That’s fucking low, Langan. Even for you.”

“Just business, Casey,” he said, holding up his hands in defense.

You felt so deeply confused. Something had gone terribly awry in this conversation. Maybe Casey and Trevor Langan weren’t friends after all?

“You’re an asshole,” she spat at him. “She doesn’t know any better.”

Okay, so they were talking about you. Your mind raced back through the conversation, trying to figure out if you’d said something wrong.

“Yeah, honestly, Novak, I wouldn’t have put you two together,” Langan observed. “I don’t know that she’s quite in your league. You know, mentally.”

You blushed furiously. You got the jab on that one, or at least the implications of it. That you didn’t deserve Casey. Which might be true, but it still hurt for someone else, someone who barely knew you, to see it and say it.

For her part, Casey looked like she might clock Langan with a strong right hook. “Well, she’s way out of yours.”

And with that, Casey pulled you away, out into the brisk, New York spring night. You tried to catch her eye as she hailed a taxi, but she wouldn’t look at you. You were growing increasingly anxious. You’d fucked up somehow. You knew it. You could tell. And you must have fucked up badly or Casey wouldn’t be this mad.

She was quiet on the way home, fuming. And she didn’t hold your hand. She always held your hand. Your stims got more anxious, more obvious, along the ride. You wanted to ask her what was wrong. Wanted her to tell you what it was you’d done to mess everything up, but you were afraid to ask in front of the taxi driver.

You opened your mouth to ask as soon as the door to the apartment shut behind you, but Casey was faster. She was angry. Her face was red. And she was nearly crying. Casey never cried.

“Why the fuck would you tell Langan about that case, Y/N?!” she yelled, furiously kicking her heels off.

You felt your heart drop, panic run up your spine like ice. “I– I was just trying to talk about lawyer stuff.”

“Not that stuff! Case details!? Babe… this is just common sense!”

Your heart felt like it was being suffocated. Your voice was shaky and weak. “H-he said he knew you, that you went way back.”

Casey laughed and pressed her hands to her face. “Oh, yeah. We sure do. Way back.”

You were trying so hard to get what she was saying, but your brain wouldn’t quite make the connection. “I… I don’t understand, Casey.”

A tear streaked down her cheek. “Of course you don’t understand!” she railed. “You never understand!” She sat down heavily, rubbing her forehead. “He’s the fucking rapist’s defense attorney, Y/N! And now he knows we’ve got nothing!”

You felt like you’d been slapped in the face. In fact, you almost would have preferred Casey actually slap you in the face. Tears filled your eyes, and you knew you were about to lose it. Casey had been mad at you before, but not like this. And you knew you didn’t understand a lot of things. You didn’t catch social nuance. It went right over your head. But to hear it from Casey… Casey who usually made you feel like there was nothing wrong with you. You’d ruined something. You’d ruined something important tonight. You felt guilty, but more than that you felt ashamed.

Your hands twitched by your side, and your breath came in huge, desperate gulps, and you knew you were on the verge of breaking down. And that last thing you wanted tonight was for your breakdown to be another fucking thing that Casey had to deal with. Another thing for her to fix. You’d already given her enough to fix tonight.

“Be right back,” you said, because it seemed like something normal to say, and you didn’t want to just exit. You walked quickly to the bathroom and shut the door behind you, locking it.

You sat on the floor and curled yourself as tightly as you could into the corner where the wall and the shower met, pulling your feet to your chest. Suddenly, everything felt very tight, too tight, and you yanked off your tie and your suit jacket, unbuttoning your collar because you could barely fucking breathe right now. You held your head in your hands and rocked back and forth, trying and failing to regulate your breathing. You kept hearing Casey’s and Langan’s words in your head, as if they were on a constant loop, replaying in your mind’s eye: She doesn’t know any better. She’s not quite in your league. You don’t understand, you never understand!

You knew you were crying, but it wasn’t something you were in control of, just hot tears streaming down your face, just your heart beating so rapidly you didn’t know how to tell it to slow down. You’d fucked up. You’d fucked up so bad that you’d hurt Casey. Maybe you’d fucked up so bad that Casey wouldn’t even want to be with you anymore, and who could blame her? You didn’t even really want to be with you. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

You heard a soft knock on the door, but couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge it, let alone open it.

“Y/N…” Casey called, voice muffled through the door and through your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “Will you open the door, honey?”

You couldn’t respond, didn’t want to respond, felt worse for Casey having to worry about you now. As if you hadn’t already given her enough to worry about tonight.

And your rocking back and forth, your absolute spiral, stopped only when you heard Casey’s voice crack, when you thought she might be crying. And your instinct to take care of her took over your instinct to wallow in self-loathing.

“Please, baby,” she begged. “I’m so sorry. Just let me in.”

You scrambled quickly to the door and unlocked it, then scrambled back to your corner, huddling protectively, your body literally shaking. You were scared, you realized. You didn’t like being scared of Casey. If anything, Casey should be scared of you, and how’d you’d mess things up for her. You buried your face in your hands as you heard the door creak open. You didn’t want to meet her eyes, terrified of what might be in them.

You heard Casey approach you, could feel the shift in the air around you as she sat down next to you, the rustle of her dress as she adjusted it.

You were so anxious that you were gripping tufts of your hair. You weren’t going to pull it out, but it gave you something to grab, at least.

“Y/N, honey, can you look at me?” she asked, and you could tell from how thick her voice was that she’d been crying.

You shook your head, still rocking back and forth.

She exhaled deeply, then continued. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. You do understand, okay? You understand me. You understand when it matters. You didn’t do anything wrong tonight. It was a dick move by Langan.”

You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at Casey. You were suspicious of her. Casey always made sure you were okay. You could see her lying to you to try to make you feel better. You felt her brush a bit of hair out of your face and jerked away.

“Look, if anything, it’s my fault,” she continued. “I should have been clearer about what lawyer things to talk about or not.”

Now, this you couldn’t abide by. Casey making it her fault? No. You lifted your face, blotched red with tear stains and looked at her, and the way her makeup ran–clearly she’d been crying–it broke your heart.

“You shouldn’t have to fucking explain!” you cried. “That’s not fair to you, Case! I should just know, and I don’t because I’m fucking dumb!”

“Hey,” she said, her voice sharp as she grasped your face in both hands. “You are not dumb. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“Stop lying to me!” you pleaded, more tears dripping down your face.

“Look at me,” Casey said, her voice rough with emotion as she held your face even tighter. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You know what is wrong? That you have to act a certain way for all those people tonight to like you. That’s dumb.”

You tried to look away, but she only gripped you harder. Her voice broke and you wanted to cry even more, cry with her and for her.

“Honey, you are so smart,” she continued between gulps of breath. “And so kind. And you have such a special way of making people feel like they can be themselves. You know you make me feel more loved than anyone ever has? You remember everything about me, everything I say. And you listen and you notice things and you… you make me feel like I’m who I’m supposed to be.”

Your sobs had quieted a little, until you were just shaking now, hiccuping with the aftermath. “You are, Casey,” you choked out. “You’re perfect.”

“See that?” she said, smiling a little and wiping your face with her hands. “You are twice the person Trevor Langan is. You build people up, you don’t bring them down.”

You let Casey slide next to you, let her wrap her arm around you and rest her chin on the top of your head.

“I’m still so sorry,” you mumbled. “I fucked up your whole case.”

She sighed and chuckled. “Honestly, it was already fucked. And Langan would have found out sooner or later.”

You let out a shaky sigh and settled into Casey, your head tucked under her neck, ear pressed to her chest so you could hear her heartbeat drawing you back down from your spiral.”

She breathed evenly, running her hands gently through the short hairs at the back of your head.

After a few minutes, Casey kissed the top of your head and pressed her hand to the side of your face, holding you close to her chest. “I love you, you know that?”

You nodded, snaking your arms around her waist and burying your face in her neck. “I love you, too.”

#casey novak #casey novak fanfic #casey novak x reader #casey novak x fem!reader #casey novak x autistic!reader #angst #svu #law and order svu #svu fanfic

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