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zeppelinlvr · 4 months ago

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Taking a Walk

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Sam, Dean and you get done with a hunt, you're starving and tired and Dean is happy to get you food and cuddle in bed.

Notes: guys I promise the end isn't supposed to be sad, I just feel like dean has trouble saying 'I love you' (so don't take it to heart), also thank you for the support on my previous fic!

Warnings: Fluff, cursing, suggestive language, gas station hot dogs

w.c: 1.4k

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You groaned as you got into the backseat of the impala. You luckily left the hunt with no more than the usual scrapes, expecting a few bruises to appear in the next day or two. Your legs burned like all hell and you wanted nothing more than to shower and get in bed.

Dean got into the driver's seat and Sam in the passenger, the two bickering about something petty you didn’t care to pay attention to at the moment.

Sam glanced back at you, sprawled out in the backseat, uncomfortably trying to lay down and rub your aching legs.

“You alright back there?” He asked, a small laugh escaping.

“No i need some aspirin and a fucking gas station hot dog” you shot back

“Must be hungry, she never eats that kind of crap” Dean remarked, starting the car and unbeknownst to you peeling off to find the nearest gas station, he knew how you acted when you were hungry and tired and he didn’t want to let you get to that point.

You found a wrapper that had been discarded in the backseat and threw it at the back of Deans head “if you would’ve let me bring my fucking purse I would’ve had my aspirin and my granola bar” you muttered, annoyed he made you leave your bag at the hotel.

“Okay Mary Poppins, something could have grabbed that purse of yours and dragged you away” He told you, continually increasing his speed, trying to get to a gas station or somewhere with food as soon as he could.

Dean barreled around a corner far too quickly making you groan “I get carsick be careful”

“That's an excuse for pussies who want to sit in the front seat sweetheart,” Dean said, his eyes catching a lit up sign of a local gas station in the distance.

“It is not, I really do get-“ you were cut off by the car reeling to a stop

“Come on, we’re getting you your fucking gas station hot dog” Dean said as he opened his door, then yours, helping you out of the backseat.

“Wait Sammy do you want anything?” you quickly asked as Dean wrapped his arm around your shoulder

“God no” he said “thank you for asking though” he added giving you a small smile

“Okay, don’t get kidnapped” you replied and teasingly blew him a kiss earning a scoff from Dean.

You headed straight towards the questionable looking hot dogs rolling on a silver grill. Dean right behind you.

“This shit looks so good I can't lie” you said to Dean with a laugh.

“I don’t know if your vision gets warped when you’re hungry but whatever floats your boat sweet cheeks” Dean replied, giving you a look with a raised brow.

You loaded up a few shitty hotdogs with all the condiments your heart desired, you were ready to follow Dean to pay when you noticed a slushy machine

“Oh my god I want a slushy” you squealed, definitely too excited over the frozen drink.

Dean gave a small laugh at your excitement but he really did love how the smallest things made you so happy. “I’ll take your dogs, go get one” he told you

He didn’t have to tell you twice, you quickly made your way over to the machine, grabbing a cup and filling it with your favorite flavor, making sure every bit through the dome shaped lid was filled with the drink.

“Didn’t know you were a pro slushy maker” Dean commented upon seeing your determination that the entire cup was filled.

“Got to get my money's worth” you shrugged

Dean paid for your hot dogs and slushy and the two of you headed back to the car, you placed a quick kiss on his cheek and thanked him for getting you the food you desperately needed before you crawled into the backseat.

He handed you the hot dogs but not your slushy “I am not letting you get this sticky shit all over my backseat, Sam’s gonna hold your slushy and you can have it when we get back to the motel” he told you

You and Sam began to protest, you complaining it would melt and Sam not wanting to hold a freezing drink in his hand.

“This is not a discussion, we're five minutes away, you big babies will survive” Dean said, passing the drink off to Sam then shutting his door and starting the car.

“You seemed to have no problem with sticky shit getting on this backseat last night” you muttered before taking a bite of your hot dog.

“Ew what the hell” Sam exclaimed “you said you guys were going on a walk”

“Sam when have either of us ever had any interest in going on walks” Dean said flatly

Sam made a face that could only begin to show how sickened he was by the conversation.

“Dean I know you’re probably dying to listen to some Barry Manilow right now, but can you please throw in some Zeppelin or the Velvet Underground” you said, poking at the fact both of you hated Barry Manilow.

“Not in the mood for your hippie doo dah Velvet shit, you want Zeppelin 4 or Houses of the Holy?”

“Houses of the Holy, please and thank you” you replied, squeezing his shoulder as an attempted emphasis on your gratitude.

The tape started up on D’yer Mak’er, not having been rewound since the last time it was played.

The song ended as you pulled into the parking lot of the motel.

“I get the shower first” you quickly said

“Fine, but you have 20 minutes, me and Sam aren’t going to sit in stinky clothes for an hour while you take a long ass shower” Dean replied to you

“Okay Dr. Seuss” you replied with a roll of your eyes.

“What about your slushy?” Sam asked fake annoyance lacing his tone.

“I’ll chug it before I get in the shower, give it to me” you told him, holding your hand out, you began to quickly drink down the slushy as Dean unlocked the door to the room.

“atta girl” Dean teased as he noticed your actions.

Your head throbbed from the slushy but you managed to drink most of it, you discarded it then made your way to the shower.

You heard a banging at the door as you were finishing up, you shut the water off then wrapped a towel around yourself and your hair.

“I said 20 minutes sweetheart” Dean yelled through the door.

You opened the door, a cold wave of air hitting you in contrast to the warmth of the bathroom.

“Do you mind if I do my hair and skincare while you shower?” you asked him

“Go right ahead” he replied, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. He quickly began to undress, noticing you unable to take your eyes off his figure.

“Like what you see?” he teased, a smirk playing at his face

You raised your eyebrows in response “we might have to go on a walk again” you laughed and pushed his shoulder slightly.

He chuckled at your comment then turned on the water and hopped in the shower.

You had gotten ready for bed and had your pajamas on by the time Dean got out of the shower. You laid in bed and read a book not involving some kind of entity, just one for your own pleasure. Sam went to shower and Dean climbed into bed next to you, heat radiating off of him from the warmth of the water, his hair still slightly damp. You set your book down upon feeling his presence next to you.

“Thanks for getting me those hot dogs” you laughed “I’m sorry I was grouchy, I was really hungry”

“It's okay sweetheart, I’m glad to get you food when you need it” he told you as he wrapped an arm around you.

“You okay if I shut the lamp off, I’m really tired” you asked him.

He hummed in response, pulling you into him after you had shut the light off. He wrapped his arms around your waist and your back was against his chest, you felt his breathing calm against you. You snuggled into him, wiggling your butt against his crotch in the process earning a response of “don't do that” from him, you giggled slightly at his words.

“I love you Dean” you said as you shut your eyes.

“You too y/n” he uttered out already half asleep, as he pressed a kiss to the back of your head.

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#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural #supernatural x reader #fluff

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drowning-in-paragraphs · 2 months ago

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DRUNK CALL

a/n: requests are open! send me your thoughts!

jude bellingham x exgf!reader

warnings: nothing but pure, heart-wrenching angst...

summary: After a night of drunken vulnerability, you make the impulsive decision to call Jude, your ex who still owns your heart. He rushes to your side, rekindling feelings that both comfort and haunt you. As you cling to the warmth of his presence, you both utter a bittersweet promise: “I’ll call you tomorrow,” knowing deep down that it’s a lie.

The bass of the club music pulsed through you, filling every corner of your being and drowning out any remnants of clarity you might’ve brought with you tonight. It was loud enough to help you escape, if only temporarily, from the heavy thoughts that had crowded your mind. A glass in hand, you were just trying to find a way to forget. But with each sip, each laugh from your friends, and each new beat, your heart sank a little deeper.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be about him. You’d sworn to yourself you’d moved on, accepted that you two were over. You’d had chosen your careers over each other, the distance and the demands of your own dreams pulling you both apart like the final grains of sand slipping through an hourglass. Jude was off in Madrid, lighting up the world with every match he played, while you were trying to make a name for yourself too.

And you were proud of him, you genuinely were. But God, did it hurt.

The friends you were with were all good people, a great group, but they weren’t him. No one could ever really make you feel the way Jude had. The club’s bright lights swirled around you, mixing with the alcohol, as your mind drifted in and out, struggling to keep your emotions buried beneath a layer of forced laughter and alcohol. Too much alcohol. But as the night wore on, you felt the drinks hitting harder than expected, unraveling the self-control you’d stitched together over the last few months.

Eventually, you felt yourself start to drift outside, leaving the laughter, lights, and thumping bass behind. Out in the cool night air, the world felt quieter, and yet your thoughts were suddenly much too loud. You stumbled to the curb, your head swimming, and let yourself sink down to sit with your knees pulled to your chest. Memories started trickling in, as persistent as the tears that now blurred her vision.

You hadn’t even allowed yourself to think of him for so long, but tonight, Jude’s face and voice played like a video in your mind. The way he’d always looked at you, his eyes warm and full of a love that felt impossible, like they could make the whole world fall away. The way he’d held your hand, grounding you, as if he knew you could be lost in a moment's notice and he was determined never to let that happen. You remembered your last night together, when you’d held each other, knowing it might be the end, even though neither had the strength to say it out loud.

The decision to end things had been painfully rational. Jude had opportunities, fame, and pressures you could barely fathom. You were building your own career, trying to find your way in the world, to live up to your potential, and you both knew that something would have to give. You’d promised each other you’d be okay, that you’d move on. But looking at the pavement now, tears slipping down your cheeks as the weight of everything settled back in, you realized you hadn’t moved on at all. Not even close.

The sound of laughter spilled out from the club as a group of people walked past you, barely noticing your tear-streaked state sitting on the curb. You wiped your eyes and looked down, feeling a flood of embarrassment mix with your sadness. You should have been stronger. You should have been able to just enjoy a night out, let him go, and move forward like he seemed to be doing. But every fiber of your being felt like it was caught, unwilling to sever the tether that still bound you to him, even if only in memory.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and with a sigh, you fished it out, expecting a text from one of your friends wondering where you´d gone. But it was nothing but a notification from your social feed—photos, stories, images of Jude from his latest game. You swallowed, feeling your throat close up. You could barely bring yourself to watch his games anymore. It was a twisted kind of loyalty to protect your heart from knowing too much about the life he was living without you.

As you scrolled through the images, your vision blurred once more. You were hurting yourself on purpose. You saw Jude, smiling wide with his teammates, happiness etched into every line of his face. He looked perfect, just as you remembered, and yet, he was so far away, so unreachable. You hadn’t even realized you were crying again, the sound of your quiet sobs echoing in the cool night air as you scrolled through his instagram stories, the ache in your chest making it almost unbearable.

Maybe he’d already moved on, you thought. Maybe he was laughing with someone else right now, someone who fit better into his world, who didn’t have to battle their own dreams just to stay by his side. You´d heard rumours... And that was the hardest part��knowing that you´d let him go so he could be free to find someone who could love him without needing to love themselves too, someone who could be selfless in a way you never could be.

But that hadn’t made it easier. And that´s why, minutes later, the alcohol and grief began to take effect on you.

The city lights blurred as you scrolled through your contacts, Jude’s name flashing like a beacon. The rational part of you knew you shouldn’t, knew it was a terrible idea. But your heart was louder, and the alcohol had drowned any sense of restraint. Before you could think twice, you pressed the call button, holding your breath as the phone rang. The dull ache in your chest sharpened with every ring, a twisted anticipation you couldn’t shake. Maybe he wouldn´t answer, and if he did, you had no idea what you would say; you just needed to hear his voice.

On the other side of the line, Jude was deep in sleep, the kind of sleep he barely had time for these days between training, travel, and games. When his phone buzzed, he stirred and groaned, eyes squinting at the screen, heart jumping as he saw your name glowing in the dark. His mind snapped to attention, concern washing over him. You never called this late; in fact, it had been months since you’d called at all. And as much as he’d tried to distance himself, a part of him had always wondered if he’d be the first person to call first, or if on the contrary, it´ll be you. He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and answered, his voice thick with drowsiness.

“Hello? Hey… everything okay?” he answered, sounding groggy and confused. You could picture him, sitting up in bed, his messy curls and soft, sleepy eyes. Just the thought of him like that made your heart ache even more, and you squeezed you eyes shut, as if that would somehow make this feel less real. You could not believe this was real.

You stilled for a second, feeling a wave of nervousness—and that slight warmth his voice always brought you, even through the crackling distance of a call. “Hey, Jude!” You joked singing the famous song, trying to sound casual, even cheerful, but the wavering in your tone was unmistakable. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Jude’s forehead creased in confusion, recognizing the slight slur in your words. He knew you perfectly. Jude tried to piece together why you were calling, concern nagging at him. “Uh… it’s two in the morning, Y/N... So, yeah, you did wake me up,” he replied, a smile sneaking into his voice. “But it’s okay… I don’t mind.”

You gave a small, unsteady laugh, brushing a tear from your cheek as you forced yourself to sound light. “Oh, whoops. Didn’t mean to. Just… thought I’d say hi, I guess.” The alcohol was betraying you.

“Hi,” he echoed softly, his own smile widening as he leaned back, unable to resist the ease that always seemed to accompany any conversation with you, no matter how much time had passed. For a brief moment, it felt like nothing had changed, as if you were right back in those late-night phone calls from when you were together. “You been out tonight or something?” he asked, catching onto the familiar background noise of a club, though the line was faint.

“Maybe,” you replied coyly, your laugh a little unsteady. “Just with some friends.”

He paused, picking up on the subtle sadness in your tone, the quietness that felt so out of place in the midst of club music. A part of him could sense something was off, but he couldn’t tell if it was just the early-morning haze clouding his mind. “You sound… different. Are you okay?” His voice was gentle, cautious, hoping to draw out the truth if you’d let him in, even just a little.

You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, despite him not being able to see it, a smile lingering in your voice as you answered. “Of course! I’m just… thinking about you, I guess. Miss hearing your voice.” The words slipped out, your guard lowered by the alcohol, your voice quieting with every word.

He felt a pang in his chest, caught off guard by your openness, and caught your state. However, he stayed silent for a moment, letting your words sink in. “I miss hearing yours too,” he admitted softly. And just like that, he was thrown back into the memories of your laughter, the comfort of your presence, the feeling he’d tried so hard to leave behind at half past two in the morning.

There was a pause, and you could feel your heart rate pick up, as if this one call could somehow shatter everything you´d been holding onto for so long. And maybe it already was. “You know… you’re doing amazing,” you said, your voice cracking, the weight of your feelings too heavy to hide. “I see the photos, the games… you’re really out there living the dream. I’m proud of you, Jude.”

His heart clenched at your words, the bittersweetness in your tone not lost on him. “Thank you,” he replied, his voice thick. “I’m… I’m really proud of you too, you know that?” He’d seen your growth, your own career achievements—even from a distance, he’d always known you´d do incredible things. But knowing it hadn’t lessened the ache of not having you by his side.

He heard a small sniffle, and a pang of worry shot through him. He hadn’t meant to make you emotional; he’d wanted this to stay light, a small moment they could share without the weight of their history pressing down. But it was too late. “Love… what’s wrong?” he asked, the nickname slipping out so naturally he barely noticed it. But you did.

The familiarity in his voice, that old endearment you hadn’t heard in so long, shattered your remaining composure. You bit your lip, tears streaming down your face as you fought to keep steady. “It’s nothing,” you tried to whisper, but your voice cracked, betraying the ache beneath.

Jude’s concern deepened, his voice steady yet gentle. “You´re… you’re out right now?” His tone was soft, but his words were filled with an understanding that came from knowing you too well. He could tell you weren’t alright, even if you were trying to hold it together. “Are you alone?”

“No, no,” you lied, looking around at the empty street, realizing your friends were still somewhere inside, probably oblivious to the fact you’d left. “I’m just… outside. Needed some air.”

His chest tightened and he closed his eyes. “Y/n...” He kept his voice low, steady, as if the calm in his tone could, somehow, anchor him, could, somehow, calm the storm raging inside him.

The line went quiet for a moment, and you could almost feel him piecing it together. “Are you… drunk?”

You swallowed, the weight of your embarrassment settling in. “Maybe. Just a little,” you mumbled. “But I’m fine, really. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Of course I worry about you,” he murmured, almost to himself, before his voice took on a more determined tone. “Where are you?”

“Jude, no,” you protested quickly, realizing he’d gotten serious. “You don’t have to come. I’m fine. Really.”

“Just tell me where you are,” he insisted, a firmness to his voice that you knew better than to argue with.

“No, Jude, really. I’ll be fine. I’ll get a cab or… or call a friend.”

“Please, just tell me,” he repeated, softer this time, but there was a plea woven into his words. You hesitated, the familiar comfort of his concern wrapping around you like a blanket, erasing any willpower you had left. You rattled off the name of the club, resigning yourself to the fact that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Stay there,” he said, his voice calming you even as your heart pounded with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. “I’ll be there soon.”

The line clicked off, and you just sat there, your mind spinning as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. You hadn’t seen Jude in months, and the reality of him coming to pick you up, despite everything that had kept you two apart, was both terrifying and comforting. You wanted to see him, to look into those eyes you´d tried so hard to forget. But you also knew how much harder it would be to walk away again.

Fifteen minutes later, headlights broke through the quiet of the street, pulling up in front of you, and there he was, stepping out of his car, looking even better than you remembered. You cursed under your breath as you saw him approaching. Dressed in a simple hoodie and joggers, his hair tousled from sleep, he scanned the sidewalk, his gaze softening when he found you.

Without a word, he walked over, crouching down beside you. His gaze swept over your face, taking in your tear-streaked cheeks and red eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, just reached out, gently wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. “Hey,” he murmured softly, his voice so tender it made your heart ache all over again. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

You nodded, unable to find the words, and let him help you up. As you walked to his car, you stumbled slightly, and his arm came around you, steadying you with a gentle, familiar touch. The feel of him close to you, felt both comforting and agonizing. He opened the passenger door and helped you in, carefully tucking your hair behind your ear before closing the door.

Once he was behind the wheel, Jude glanced over at you, a soft, almost unreadable look in his eyes. “Why didn’t you call me earlier?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked away, feeling your chest tighten. “Didn’t want to be a burden,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

He shook his head, his eyes filled with a tenderness you hadn’t seen in so long. “You could never bother me,” he said quietly. “Not you.”

You drove in silence for a while, the city lights flashing by as the weight of everything lingered between you. You leaned your head against the window, the alcohol starting to wear off, replaced by the hollow ache of your feelings, raw and exposed. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you, and let out a shaky sigh.

“Jude…” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I don’t know how to move on from you.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and raw, and you felt him reach out, his hand finding yours. His fingers laced with yours, strong and warm, grounding you just like he always had. You looked over at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, you saw all the love he’d held for you, the love he’d tried to hide.

“I haven´t either,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering. “I miss you, a lot, but I don´t know if we can be together.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks again, and he gently wiped them away again, his thumb brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your heart swell. He didn’t pull his hand away, letting you hold onto him as if he knew it was the only thing keeping you steady.

When you arrived at your apartment, he helped you inside, never letting go of your hand. He guided you to the couch, gently settling you down, his eyes never leaving your face. You felt safe with him there, wrapped in his warmth and his steady, unwavering presence.

He took a seat beside you, his hand still in yours, and you sat in comfortable silence for a moment. You closed your eyes, feeling his hand gently squeeze yours, the quiet affirmation that you were not alone, that he was still there for you, even if you two were separated.

The silence settled around you both, like a delicate thread holding back a flood neither of you dared to unleash. Jude sat by your side, so close yet feeling further away than ever.

Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice soft but heavy, laced with a sadness that cut right through you. “I’ll… I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” he said, his voice almost a whisper, as if saying it louder would make it less believable.

You managed a small nod, biting your lip to keep your emotions in check, the words echoing in your mind like a promise neither of you believed. Both of you knew that call would never come. It would be too much, too painful, a tether to something that had already slipped too far away. But somehow, you clung to the lie, as if saying it aloud could somehow soften the inevitable.

“Okay,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible, a fragile agreement to keep up this charade, to pretend there was a next chapter, even if the last page had already been turned.

He gave you a sad, almost wistful smile, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand one final time. Then, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as though he could somehow imprint a piece of himself in that touch. You closed your eyes, savoring the warmth, the closeness, every ounce of affection he poured into that kiss, knowing it might be the last.

When he pulled back, his gaze held yours, full of a quiet, aching love. “Goodnight,” he murmured softly, his voice catching.

You managed a weak smile, feeling the tear slip down your cheek, but you nodded. “Goodnight, Jude.”

And just like that, he let go of your hand. He made sure you were steady, his eyes tracing over you, making sure you were okay, that you’d be safe when he was gone. Then he stood, lingering at the doorway for one last moment, his expression unreadable but unmistakably full of everything he wanted to say and couldn’t.

Without another word, he turned and slipped out the door, and you felt the emptiness settle in as soon as he was gone. The quiet of the apartment pressed in around you, swallowing up the warmth he’d left behind, until it was just you, alone, holding onto a memory that hurt too much to let go.

The next day came and went. He didn´t call.

#jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham #jude bellingham comfort #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham smut #jb5 #hey jude #jude victor willliam bellingham #bellingham #rmcf #rma #jb5 x reader #jude victor william bellingham

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cutieshonie · 10 months ago

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♪ → YOU MAKE ME WANT TO SCREAM! ← ♪

pairing; scaramouche, ayato, childe, kaveh , gn!reader

content warnings; toxic relationships, unhealthy relationships, toxic boys, smut, arguments, verbal abuse, rough sex, making up sex, crying, degrading, emontional abuse(?), reader has no vision and is just a normal citizen, attempted physical abuse, dubcon, attempted killing(? Idk scara almost uses electro to shock you), threats of murder

notes; I was listening to mars argo and this song made me have a idea, (it's called runaway) and @cutiesgawr said that I should do like toxic smut or angst thing, while their doing another lyric one ! These boys are toxic, so deal with me ;3 btw

🎞️ SCARAMOUCHE is rather someone that makes you want to scream, his arrogant attitude, his ignorance. His neglection to you, your relationship. All he wanted to do was to get that gnosis, take revenge on those who wronged him. His cruel words, you finally had enough as you can feel tears coming. It wasn't due to sadness but rather due to anger, you harshly rubbed at your eyes as you clenched your fist. You bit at your bottom lip, you inhaled and exhaled. "Scaramouche, I thi-" before you could say your words, he cutted you off. "Just leave me alone, I don't want to deal with you." He said, looking at you with a blank look. You suck on a breath, you wanted to scream right there. "Scara! You bastard! Can you atleast pretend that you care!?" You yelled, you glared at him, he had a dark tint in his eyes as he smiles and looks at you. "Why should I care? I didn't even need you! I could fucking kill you!" He screamed, you stepped back as he laughs and walks towards you. "What's wrong, baby?" He teased. "Where's all your confidence gone? Hah?" He said, you flinch as he corners you, he lets out some electro, seeing a purple light makes you more scared. Your body shakes in fear, how dumb can you be to say that to someone who has an advance! "Hm, you work for that fox girl. Right?" You peek open your eyes as you slowly nod your head. What was he going to do? He leans towards you, his lips landing on yours, you gasp as you push on his chest. Your hands slowly fall to your side, was he finally giving you attention, he pulls away as you whine. He chuckles as rubs at your hips. "I am sorry, baby.. how about I make it up to you~?" He says in a melodic voice, your face feels hot as you nod. He sucks on your neck and bites on it softly, you gasp as you realize that he was going to do it outside. His hands land on your legs as he makes you wrap your legs around him. "mfhm! Scara, w-were outside!" You cried, he hums as he take soff your lower clothing, you closed your eyes as he takes off his lower clothing. Revealing his hard dick, he aims it at your hole. He pushes into you, going you down as you slowly take him. "Mmh!" He groans and moves quickly, you gasp and cling onto him, your back is against the wall as he slams into you, his dick hitting those special spots in you, it makes you go dizzy. You can see stars, he groans in your ear, your hole clenches move around him, your toes begin to curl, you moan loudly. Not caring for someone heard you or not, your eyes roll back as you climax. You let out a sigh, he lets out a small moan as scara climaxes, you can feel his dick twitching in you, you can feel him filling you up. He gently sits you down, your mind feels all mushy. Scara can be a bastard but I guess your into bastards like him!

🕰️ AYATO is a wealthy and praised man, a perfect husband! He was but he wasn't so great, his silver tongue wasn't something that was healthy. Him manipulating you, and everyone else made you mad. How stupid can you be for not realizing it! You have a smile to Thoma as you walk by him, he gave you a smile. You walk down the halls to his office, standing infront of his office, you exhaled as you open the door, ayato was at his desk. Writing on papers, he looks up and smiles, he looks back down, you walk towards him, you were going to talk about his behaviour and actions. "Ayato, I want to speak to you" you remained calm. "Hm? What is it, sweetie?" He said, you sighed. "Why are you manipulating me?" You said, he looks at you and tilts his head... His simple action made you mad, how can he pretend that he doesn't know?! "I feel taken advantage of!" You yelled out, he smiles softly and looks at you. "Ah? What do you mean dearest? Why are you talking crazy?" He said, you clenched your fist as you glared at him. You wanted to scream at him so badly. "Stop pretending! Ayato, you know how cruel it is!" You slammed your fists onto his desk, he doesn't say anything as he looks down and looking at the messy desk. "Sweetie" he got up and you backed away, he smiles as he grabs your wrists. Twirling you around as he gently lays you on his desk, you glare up at him. "Dearest, I could never, I think you been to stressed... How about I make it up to you?" He said, you raised up an eyebrow, what did he mean. He goes down as he looks up at you, his lips curling into a smile. "Wha—!" You let out a moan as his mouth lands in your crotch, you games down at him. "What do you say?" You gripped at the desk, your heart was racing. Your eyes were focused on him and you didn't even feel yourself nodding to his question. His mouth goes back to your crotch, sucking at your sex through your clothing, he smirks as you whine. He takes off your lower clothing, looking at your underwear. He smirks and take sit off, slowly. You whined and he lets out a chuckle, he was amused by you. His tongue touches your sex as he slowly licks at it, his mouth goes on your sex, licking and sucking. You moaned and closed your eyes, your eyes roll back as his mouth doesn't stop pleasuring your sex. Your sex leaks out your pre-cum/juices, you gasped as his teeth touches your sex. Your eyes were completely rolled back, your chest goes up and down, you were seeing stars. He kept on going, soon you were to climax, he sucks more harder, you whined and grip at his hair. You climaxed. "How about we continue later, after I finish work, m'kay?" You nod, he smiles.

🪐 CHILDE is a dangerous man you feel inlove with, his job was risky to be with. His bloodlust and wanting to fight was also dangerous, you grip at your clothing as he practiced and practiced and kept seeking out the blonde traveler. Didn't he know that he can get hurt?! Your hands grasped your clothing, he loved you and you know that! He would give you anything but he was selfish. He wanted power and he kills people, he kills so that he can satisfy his needs, his killing and fighting does that for him. Childe craves more and the world gives him so little, he comes back battered! You didn't like that and you always wanted to scream at him, you feel powerless. You didn't equal to him at all, he had a advance to you already but he was a bigger advance! You gripped at your clothing as you wait for him, you wanted to confess how you felt and you hoped that he wouldn't take it the wrong way. You got up as you faced him, he had some cuts in him, he looks at you and smiles sheepishly. "Childe, can I tal-" he walks by you, you look at him as glared at him. "Listen to me!" You screamed, he stops in his tracks as he turns to look at you. You exhaled and clenched your fist as you tried to hold in your anger. "What is it?" He said. "Stop, being so.." you said, muttering. "What? Stop being what?" He said. "Stop being you!" You blurt out. "What? Stop being me?" He said, his eyes having a dark tint. "That's not what I meant! I meant being so... Selfish!" You yelled out, he glares at you. His glare makes you get goosebumps. "Selfish? Hah! How am I being selfish?" He said, taking a step to you as you take a step back. "I am giving you all you want and you call me selfish? Don't make me laugh!" He said, you flinched. "Argh! See! You don't get what I mean and you just want more and more!" You screamed to him. "More and more of what! All you do is stay at home while I do my job and you dare to speak to me like that?!" He screamed and he takes steps towards, his hand raises up as his weapon comes out. Your eyes widen as you fall to ground, you look up at him as a dark shadow covers his face, he drops to floor as he holds your cheek. "Sorry, baby" he says, you look at him in confusion. "Sorry, baby. Semes like we are both stressed, I didn't mean it..." He said, he kisses you. "Sweet baby, how about we forget about all of this. I think we both need to get rid of our stresses.." he says, you look at him as his hand lays on your thigh. You gasp as he smiles at you, looking at you with a warm look. You were both mad at eachother and now he wants to have sex? You tried your best to be mad and say no but he looks so sweet and warm... What happens if this your last chance if this happening, you and Childe never had sex in while .. you nod your head as he kisses you. Slipping his tongue into your mouth, lifting you up as he lays you on the bed. Your hands gripping at his shoulders. You kiss him as he fastly takes off your clothing and his, his dick is standing up as it leaks out some pre-cum, you moaned when his dick touches your skin. His dick teases your hole before he finally enters you, he puts you in a mating press. Your legs tucked as he kisses you before moving fast. "Fuck... Baby, you feel so good~" he says, his dick hitting spots in you, fast and hard. You can feel yourself ready to cum, your eyes roll back due to his fast movements. "Ahh! Childe!" You cried, your hands grip at his hips as he slams into you. His fast, needy actions show as he is about to climax. Moaning and groaning into your ear, your eyes roll back as you arch your back. His dick hitting at spot in you, your hole clenches and you climax. He kisses your neck and he slams into you, his dick twitching and he fills your hole up. We'll your selfish for his dick and his love and he seems to be selfish for your body and love!

🚬 KAVEH is someone you admire, his job and how hard he works. But he works about to hard, it's quite concerning. He was a sweet lovable man that you loved so much but you he doesn't spend time with you that much. You know he is busy but does he have to drink, it isn't a the best way to escape from struggles. You wanted to talk about it with him, you wanted him to take a rest and just focus on himself and you. You smiled as you set up dinner ans the bed, you pat yourself on your back, you wait for him. "KAVEH!" You got up as you heard the door open, you see your blonde boyfriend, he looks at you. You smile as your hand rests on his shoulder, you tilt your head. "L-leave me *hic* alone!" He said, you look at him as your eyebrows furrowed, he was drunk. You could smell it on his breath, you sighed and smiled. "Kaveh, I made us dinn-" he walks by you and towards the bedroom door. "I don't want!" He cried, you grab his wrist. "Kaveh, you have to stop" you said, he glares at you. "Just leave me alone" he said, you frowned and point at the table. "Kaveh, I made us dinner and drink some water." You said, his eyes roll. You kept in bothering him as you try to drag him to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He shakes his head and he groans, you want to scream at him. He wants listening and you were starting to get mad. He pushes you as you gasp and look at him, he opens his mouth. He starts spewing out nonsense and words that hurt to you, you grit your teeth and he moves to you. His hand raises up as you lift up your arms. He stops as he sobs, you look at him and he stops to the floor..wiping away his tears. "Sorry.... I am just a fucking mess, I don't want to hurt you and I am so sorry!" He sobs, your eyes tear up and you hug him. It wasn't his fault. "I am so sorry, sweetie.." he cries, you nod your head and kisses his cheek. He loks at you as he kisses you, his hands under your shirt. You pull away. "Kaveh, your drunk an-" he cuts you off. "No... It's okay, I want it, I I want to make it up to you... My love" he says, you smile and he nods his head. You both make your way to the bedroom as you both tangle with eachother, hands in hair as you makeout, you moan and whimper. "I love you so much, I am so sorry, baby.." he says, kissing your chest as he takes off his pants in a hurry, holding you close. "I love you too!" You say, you moan when his dick enters you. You wipe away your tears as he fucks you. Bending you as his tongue sucks on yours, fucking you slow then faster. Your eyes roll back and he begins to moan really loud. Whimpering in your ear as he goes faster, getting sloppy. Your legs tremble in pleasure and his dick twitches. Warning you for his soon-climax. You kisses him harder, slamming your lips together, you both climax at the same time, holding eachother close. You smile and look at him, h kisses your neck and smiles. Well the food probably goes gone cold but oh well!

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kodasmind · 4 months ago

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In Her Corner

Rhea Ripley X Reader

She is a good actress 😭🩶

Rhea Ripley had been working out in the gym, her usual intense demeanor present as she jogged on the treadmill. She decided to go live on Instagram to interact with her fans, something she enjoyed doing from time to time. But today was different. The news had just broken out that Dominik had betrayed her, and though she tried to hide it, the pain was evident in her eyes.

As she ran, the comments started pouring in, with fans expressing their shock and sadness over what Dominik had done. Rhea tried to keep her focus, pushing herself harder on the treadmill, but the comments were relentless.

“Rhea, are you okay?”

“Don’t let him get to you!”

“We’re here for you, Rhea!”

But there were also comments that brought the reality crashing down.

“Dominik was supposed to be your partner!”

“Why did he do that to you, Rhea?”

The tears started to blur her vision. She could feel her emotions bubbling up, her chest tightening as she fought to keep it together. But the betrayal hurt more than she could handle, and despite her efforts, a tear slipped down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, but it was too late. The comments exploded with concern.

“Rhea’s crying!”

“Someone get (Y/N)!”

You were upstairs, busy with some work when you heard the notification sounds on your phone going off like crazy. You picked it up, seeing the flood of messages from fans telling you that Rhea was crying on her live. Your heart dropped, and without thinking twice, you bolted out of the room and raced downstairs to the gym.

When you reached the door, you saw her. Rhea, the woman who was always so strong, was struggling to keep her composure as the tears streamed down her face. She tried to hide it from the camera, but it was too much.

“Rhea,” you called softly, but she didn’t hear you. She was too lost in her own world of pain.

You quickly crossed the room, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. She flinched at the touch, startled, but when she turned and saw it was you, her eyes filled with even more tears.

“Oh, babe,” you whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace. She buried her face in your neck, her body trembling as she let the sobs take over.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, running your fingers through her hair, trying to soothe her. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

You reached over to the treadmill controls and turned it off, then grabbed her phone from the stand, noticing the live stream was still going. Without hesitation, you ended the live, not caring about what anyone would think. Rhea needed you, and that was all that mattered.

You guided her off the treadmill and to a nearby bench, sitting down with her in your arms. She clung to you, the strong, fearless Rhea Ripley, now vulnerable and hurt. You knew how much Dominik’s betrayal had affected her, and it broke your heart to see her like this.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered, holding her close. “We’ll get through this together.”

Slowly, her sobs started to fade, and she pulled back to look at you. Her eyes were red, her face streaked with tears, but there was a glimmer of gratitude in her gaze.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, her voice cracking.

“You don’t have to find out,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She nodded, leaning into your touch, finding comfort in your presence. And in that moment, despite all the pain she was feeling, she knew that with you by her side, she would be okay.

#mami rhea #rhea ripley #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley x reader #wwe x reader #wwe imagine #the judgement day x reader #kodasmind

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stealthetrees · 5 months ago

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I am impatient and not actually finished with it but whatever. I tried to write Fox angst but angst is hard and why make it sad when it can be funny.

The others POV would be sad but the Guard just want Fox to stop being a dumb ass.

When Fox woke up, it was to the sound of children arguing. But that’s not his problem. They were grown adults and could solve problems by themselves. Or Thorn would deal with it.

Fox rolled over and went back to sleep.

When he woke up again, after what felt like only a few minutes, the kids were still arguing, but much louder now. Fox blinked his eyes open and tried to focus on what was now apparently his problem.

“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! I don’t believe you!”

“Well that’s too bad cause is the truth whether you like it or not!”

“There is no way in hell he’s the youngest!”

God damn it, that wasn’t one of his kids, that’s his medic.

“You weren't even there how would you know!?!”

And that was… Wolffe?

“Well then how is he so much cooler than you?”

“What?”

“If Fox is younger than why did he kill multiple sith when you got your ass kicked by Ventress of all people? Explain that dick head.”

“What do you mean he killed multiple sith?!?”

Well that’s a perfect time to intervene if any, because everyone Fox worked with knew about the feud with Darth Maul, and anyone who didn’t was not going to like the circumstances of his little nap.

Unfortunately, there were circumstances to his current predicament. Sitting up too quickly, Fox nearly passed out again when his vision went black and his ears filled with static. Several arms grabbed him to make sure he didn’t collapse.

Fox breathed deep, trying to stay conscious and not throw up as his vision cleared. He didn’t recognize the room he was in, but he did recognize the people so it was probably fine.

Copper, the Guard’s head medic, was holding Fox’s shoulders while glaring at Wolffe, who stood on the other side of the bed, having let go of Fox because of the intense glare. Ponds, Bly, and Cody filled the rest of the room while Sparrow, still in full armor and fresh off patrol, was crouched in the corner looking like he was in the middle of a mental breakdown.

“Are y’all gonna sort out yer problems like adults or am I gonna have to deal with your bullshit?”

Copper had the decency to look a little embarrassed while his batch mates avoided his gaze.

“That’s what I thought,” said Fox, nodding. “Now where the hell are we?” He pushed his brothers off him.

“The Jedi temple,” said Wolffe, dropping into the chair beside the bed.

“Those… guys found you in the Chancellor's office and freaked out. Dragged you all the way here. I got pulled into this mess cause they kept asking questions about yer medical history,” Copper said, wisely replacing whatever he was going to call them.

“Do you remember what happened? We found you on the floor of the Chancellor’s office awake but unresponsive,” Bly asked.

“Well, one minute I was working in the safe in the chancellor's desk the next thing I know I’m back on Corellia strapped to a table while some guy peels the skin off my arm. It was crazy,” said Fox, scratching the back of his neck.

That was the wrong thing to say. The uproar that followed his words brought the wrath of a Jedi healer down upon all of them, and after many threats of banishment from the room, everyone quieted down.

“Just an undercover job that went bad. It’s not a big deal, exept when the mind fuck thing happens,” Fox explained.

“What is the mind fuck thing?” cried Bly.

“What do you mean it’s not a big deal?” demanded Ponds.

“When a sith makes you relive your worst moments, like with the force or something,” explained Sparrow while everyone talked over him.

“Look, y’all fight sith way more than I do, you’ve probably had it worse,” said Fox, trying to divert their attention away from how he lost his arm.

“No? We don’t?? We fight droids???” Cody’s voice climbed in pitch as he edged towards hysteria. Wolffe buried his face in his hands.

“No offense, but I doubt your batch goes looking for Sith Lords to antagonize,” said Copper.

“I do not go looking for anything! Sidious just likes torturing me,” Fox shot back, causing more dismay from his brothers.

“I don’t think breaking into his ‘secret’ lair and trying to kill him in his bed count,” called Sparrow. Little fucker was always ready to gang up on Fox. How the medics had won him over was a mystery.

“And you said you were trying to get into the safe with the contract, so it’s no wonder Sidious tried to off you,” said Copper dismissively. “Honestly, I’m on his side for this one. Sith Lord or not the old fuck is entirely within his right to fuck you up.”

#star wars #commander fox #the clone wars #tcw #coruscant guard #unhinged fox au #commander wolffe #commander ponds #commander cody #commander bly #clone oc #kleptomaniac and angry medic #star wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfiction

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msriri030 · 7 days ago

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The Taste of Chaos

Hyugo x reader

cw: light murder

You woke up early in the morning, the soft cooing of doves outside your window easing you into the day. The sunlight trickled gently through the thin curtains as you fixed your bed, listening to the morning sounds of the world waking up.

Slipping into your worn-out clothes—familiar and threadbare—you slid open your room door, stepping out into the garden compound. A small smile tugged at your lips as you took in the sight before you. The garden stretched wide, bursting with life: vibrant flowers in every color imaginable and lush plants swayed gently in the breeze. At the center of it all stood a majestic wisteria tree, its lavender blossoms cascading gracefully, bathing the garden in a dreamlike hue.

You sighed softly, lingering for a moment before making your way to the kitchen. Breakfast had to be prepared, and your daily chores awaited.

As the firstborn child of your father, the head of the Shindou clan, one might have assumed you led a life of privilege. But reality has never been kind to you. Born of an affair, you were a stain on the family’s reputation—an unwanted reminder of a mistake. You’d grown up in the compound as more of a servant than a child, treated with disgust and disregard by the clan members who sneered at your very existence. Your father and his wife had done little to stop it, content to let you fade into the background.

The clothes on your back were never new—hand-me-downs from older cousins, given to you out of pity rather than kindness. Yet, despite the bitterness of it all, you found solace in the small corners of your life, where genuine warmth still flickered.

Entering the kitchen, you were greeted by the familiar hum of activity and the smiling faces of the staff. These were the people who had raised you, cared for you when no one else did. To you, they were family.

“Good morning, Mr. Aikawa,” you said warmly, the head chef returning your greeting with a smile as he worked on preparing the day’s dishes.

The smell of grilled salmon—shiozake—lingered in the air, and your stomach quietly grumbled in anticipation. Mr. Aikawa, an elderly man who had always looked after you, glanced over his shoulder and nodded toward the corner of the counter.

“(Y/N), I made you some breakfast,” he said, his voice gentle but firm, as always. “Eat first, then come help me with the miso soup.”

Confused, you followed his gesture and froze when you saw it—a neatly prepared egg omelet waiting for you. Across the surface, carefully written in sauce, were the words: Good luck.

For a moment, your chest tightened. Your vision blurred slightly as emotion welled up, but you blinked it back, unwilling to let the tears fall. Instead, you smiled, warmth spreading through you like sunlight breaking through a stormy sky.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Aikawa,” you said softly, your voice filled with quiet gratitude.

He waved a hand dismissively, though his smile told you he was pleased. “Now, eat up. We’ve got a long day ahead.”

You nodded, sitting down to savor the meal, the rare, joyous smile on your face lighting up the room. For just that fleeting moment, you felt seen—like you mattered.

Across the kitchen, Mr. Aikawa glanced at you with a softened expression, though his smile carried a quiet sadness. He quickly turned back to his work, the creases on his face deepening as though weighed down by unspoken thoughts.

Finishing your meal, you stood and began preparing the miso soup, the small warmth in your chest lingering. You hummed softly to yourself as you worked, the tune a melody from your childhood—one the kitchen staff used to sing to calm you when you were younger.

You filled a large pot with water, carefully sprinkling in the dashi granules. As the liquid began to heat, the savory aroma of the stock wafted through the kitchen, mingling with the faint smokiness of the grilled salmon.

While the water simmered, you cut the tofu into neat, bite-sized cubes with precision and care, then sliced the green onions into thin rings. You moved effortlessly around the kitchen, hands steady and confident as you whisked in the miso paste—a homemade blend you’d crafted days before. Its rich, earthy scent lingered in the air as the paste dissolved into the broth, blending smoothly.

Finally, you stirred in the tofu cubes, letting them bob gently in the fragrant soup as they cooked. You tasted it quickly, adjusting the flavors with the practiced touch of someone who’d perfected this dish countless times. Satisfied, you ladled the miso soup into bowls, their surfaces steaming gently, and arranged them carefully on a tray.

The soft shuffle of footsteps approached as servants entered the kitchen to begin setting up for the day. You handed off the tray with a small, polite smile, and they offered quiet thanks in return.

As you wiped your hands on a clean cloth, you glanced back at Mr. Aikawa. He was watching you again—his gaze thoughtful, almost wistful—before he turned away to focus on preparing the main dishes.

“Good work,” he muttered, his voice gruff yet kind.

You smiled faintly to yourself, feeling the familiar rhythm of the kitchen settle your heart. No matter what the world outside held, here, amidst the simmering pots and the soft clinking of utensils, you found peace.

Once the main dishes were ready, the sounds of laughter echoed through the compound. The patter of small feet and the hum of conversation filled the air, vibrant and full of life. You lingered by the doorway, watching as clan members gathered around the long dining tables, their faces alight with joy.

It was a sight you had watched countless times since childhood—first from behind the backs of the kitchen staff, and later from this very spot. Back then, they used to shoo you away, shielding you from the sting of what you could never have: the warmth of a family’s love.

Now, you stood there quietly, the ache in your chest as familiar as breathing. Your eyes followed your younger step-siblings as they received affectionate head pats and playful nudges. The way your father’s wife beamed at them, her laughter genuine and soft, made you feel like an outsider in a home that was supposed to be yours, too.

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, and then another, as you watched them. Why couldn’t it be me? you thought. The bitterness of longing mingled with the quiet ache of acceptance, but still, you couldn’t look away.

Then, out of habit—out of hope—you let your gaze drift to your father. He sat at the head of the table, his usual stoic face calm as he brought the steaming miso soup to his lips. You held your breath.

Something shifted. His brow lifted slightly as if in surprise, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes found yours across the room. He smiled.

It wasn’t much—just a small, fleeting curve of his lips—but it was enough to leave you frozen. That smile, that tiny acknowledgment, was so rare it felt like a treasure. The air caught in your throat. Had he noticed you—really noticed you—this time?

“Come on, child.”

A soft, familiar voice broke through your thoughts, and you felt a gentle tug on your arm. Mr. Aikawa stood beside you, his expression kind yet firm as he pulled you away from the doorway.

“We’ve still got work to do. Lunch will be here before you know it, and you know how specific they are with their orders.”

You let him lead you back to the kitchen, your heart a strange mix of longing and warmth. For all the love you had never been given, there were still moments like this—moments when someone cared enough to remind you where you were needed.

As you picked up a rag to clean the counters, your mind lingered on that smile. It was small, but it was something.

And for now, something would have to be enough

After cleaning up the dishes from breakfast, Mr. Aikawa announced he’d be heading to the market to gather ingredients for lunch preparations. Left alone in the kitchen, you decided to experiment with some dessert recipes, finding solace in the quiet hum of the room.

Taiyaki, fresh and golden, cooled on the table behind you as you carefully prepared a strawberry filling. Humming softly to yourself, you scooped the homemade jam into a piping bag, the sweet aroma lingering in the air. It was moments like these—calm and uninterrupted—where you felt a fleeting sense of joy.

As you turned around, a pair of wide, baby-blue eyes stared back at you, sparkling with mischief and delight. You froze in place, your heart lurching as the unexpected figure—a young man about your age—stood there, grinning like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar.

He held one of your taiyaki in his hands, already mid-bite, and his expression was unabashedly pleased.

“Hey,” he said, his voice muffled by the pastry he was still chewing. “I’m Hyugo—”

WHACK.

The sound of impact echoed through the kitchen as your instincts took over. Without thinking, you swung the piping bag in your hand, the soft splat of strawberry jam spilling through the air. It splattered onto the floor, onto you, and all over him.

Hyugo blinked, stunned into silence, his face now smeared with streaks of bright red. He coughed awkwardly, his messy hair sticking to the sticky jam.

“Well, uh… that’s one way to say hello,” he muttered, looking both sheepish and amused.

You stared at him, your lips parting as anger flared. “What are you doing here? Who even are you?!”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, bits of jam still dripping from his fingers. “Relax! I’m not a thief—I swear! I’m a guest here, just… got a little lost and followed the smell of something amazing.”

You glared at him, barely processing his words as you grabbed a rag to wipe the sticky jam from your clothes. “Lost? In this part of the house? You shouldn’t even be here!”

Hyugo only grinned, his baby-blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, if it makes you feel better, the taiyaki was delicious. Totally worth getting attacked.”

You clenched the rag in your hand, cheeks burning as you pointed an accusing finger at him. “Don’t touch my food again, or next time it won’t just be jam you’re wearing!”

He chuckled softly, unbothered by your threat. “Fair enough, fair enough. But hey, for someone who’s scary with a piping bag, you’re a great cook. I’ll be back for more.”

And with that, Hyugo turned on his heels, strolling out of the kitchen as though nothing had happened—still covered in jam and leaving faint sticky footprints behind him.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Who is that guy?”

The only answer was faint laughter echoing down the hall. Curious, you peeked out of the kitchen to see another figure leaning casually against the doorway. He had bluish-purple hair, his sharp features softened by an amused smile as he watched the teal-haired Hyugo’s predicament unfold.

“Hyugo, what the hell?” the newcomer chuckled, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “I feel bad for your fiancée already.”

The words struck like a pin, and Hyugo’s playful pout deepened into something more subdued. He shot a glare at the other man, clearly unimpressed.

“Shut up, Geo,” Hyugo grumbled, his shoulders slumping slightly as he rubbed at the sticky mess on his shirt. You noticed the way his bright expression dimmed, and a pang of guilt twisted in your chest. He didn’t seem as insufferable now—just a little lost, perhaps.

Geo tilted his head, his smirk widening as he crossed his arms. “You were supposed to be making a good first impression, not raiding the kitchen like a starving raccoon.”

Hyugo opened his mouth to retort, but you stepped forward before the banter escalated any further. “Hey.”

Both men looked at you, surprised by your sudden interruption. Without thinking, you gently grabbed Hyugo’s arm, tugging him away from his brother’s teasing.

“Where do you think you’re going?” you asked, your voice firm. “I said to clean up the kitchen.”

Hyugo blinked in confusion, his brows furrowing. “Wait, what? You never said—”

“Shut up,” you cut him off, refusing to let him argue. “I’ll call for a servant to prepare the bath and bring you clean clothes. You, however, are helping me clean up this mess.”

For a second, Hyugo just stared at you, mouth slightly agape, as if trying to figure out how he’d ended up in this situation. A faint blush crept across his face, but he didn’t resist as you pulled him along back into the kitchen.

Behind you, Geo’s soft laughter echoed again. “Oh, this is fun. I’ll have to tell Father about your new skills, Hyugo—looks like you’re a natural at following orders.”

Hyugo groaned loudly but followed your lead, muttering under his breath. “Great. Just great.”

You couldn’t help but shake your head as you ushered Hyugo inside, resisting the urge to smile at Geo’s parting smirk.

“Here, I’ll give you an easy job.” You placed a mop and a bucket filled with cold water and cleaner in front of him. “You just have to mop the floor while I wipe down the counters and whatever else the jam got on.”

Hyugo stared at the mop as if it had personally offended him. “I’m not a servant, you know,” he grumbled quietly, though his eyes lingered on you. He leaned lazily against the table, refusing to touch the bucket just yet.

You walked over, with mop in hand, and gently nudged him with the handle. “Too bad,” you teased, your lips curling into a small, gentle smile. “I was going to make you some dessert—maybe taiyaki or a fruit tart—as a reward for helping.”

“Fruit tart?” Hyugo’s head shot up, his teal eyes sparkling with sudden enthusiasm. Within seconds, he was gripping the mop and getting to work like an eager puppy.

You couldn’t hold back your laugh, a sound so light and infectious that it made Hyugo pause mid-motion. His gaze drifted toward you, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. The way the sunlight kissed your face as it poured through the kitchen window, the brightness of your laughter, the warmth of your smile—Hyugo felt his heart stumble in his chest.

She’s beautiful.

The realization hit him like a wave, and he quickly looked away, his cheeks and ears burning red. His chest felt tight, conflicted. You can’t do this, he thought bitterly. You have a fiancée. But no matter how hard he tried to shake it off, his heart wouldn’t listen.

As time passed, the kitchen slowly returned to order. The floor gleamed under Hyugo’s careful work, and the counters shone thanks to your diligence. Somewhere along the way, the two of you began joking and teasing one another, an easy rhythm forming between you. Hyugo couldn’t help but edge closer as you worked, finding excuses to talk, to laugh, to linger in your space.

By the time Mr. Aikawa returned, the older man stopped in his tracks, stunned. The kitchen looked spotless—immaculate, even—but both you and Hyugo were still wearing evidence of the earlier chaos. Jam streaked your sleeves and dotted Hyugo’s cheek, a comical reminder of the messy ordeal.

Mr. Aikawa blinked, his gaze flicking between the two of you. “What… happened here?”

You turned sheepishly from the sink where you were finishing up the dishes. “Ah, we had a little accident earlier,” you said with a nervous laugh, shooting Hyugo a playful glance.

Hyugo, leaning against the counter with crossed arms, smirked back at you. “It’s called teamwork, Mr. Aikawa. You should be proud.”

Mr. Aikawa gave him a long, suspicious look before shaking his head with a huff. “Clean up yourselves next,” he muttered, though his expression softened as he turned to you. A servant came in, “The bath is ready for the young lord.”

Hyugo straightened up, sighing dramatically. “Finally. I thought I’d be stuck here forever.”

You rolled your eyes, handing him a towel to clean the stray jam off his face. “Don’t act like you didn’t have fun.”

He froze for a split second as your fingers brushed his hand, his expression faltering. “…Yeah, maybe,” he murmured, softer than you expected. Then, with a final glance at you, he turned to leave, his steps a little slower this time.

As he walked out of the kitchen, Hyugo couldn’t shake the fluttering warmth in his chest—or the way your laughter still echoed in his mind like a sweet melody he never wanted to forget.

“Sadly, I’m afraid you can only change your clothes, (Y/N),” Mr. Aikawa said softly, his expression tinged with regret.

You nodded without complaint, wiping the last streak of jam off your cheek before quickly retreating to your room. Once there, you changed into a clean set of clothes—another well-worn outfit, but at least free of sticky mishaps.

By the time you returned to the kitchen, the atmosphere had shifted. The hum of lunchtime preparations filled the space, comforting and familiar. Mr. Aikawa, ever the master of his craft, worked diligently over a large pot, the savory scent of homemade shoyu ramen filling the air.

“You’re just in time,” he said, glancing at you with a small, approving smile. “Make sure the ramen toppings are ready, and don’t forget your promise.”

You nodded, rolling up your sleeves. While Mr. Aikawa tended to the broth, you focused on the final touches of the small fruit tarts. Carefully, you piped cream into the golden pastry shells, placing sliced strawberries and vibrant blueberries on top. The sight of the delicate tarts brought a rare flicker of pride to your heart—they were simple, but lovely.

Hyugo’s earlier excitement echoed in your mind, and you found yourself smiling faintly. You hoped the dessert would live up to his expectations.

As you placed the tarts neatly on a tray, the comforting aroma of ramen and the gentle clatter of utensils reminded you of why you loved this space. No matter what chaos the day brought, the kitchen was your sanctuary—a place where you could create something meaningful, even if the world outside often overlooked you.

“Everything ready?” Mr. Aikawa called over his shoulder, stirring the pot one last time.

“Yes,” you replied softly, setting the tray of fruit tarts down beside the steaming bowls of ramen.

“Good,” Mr. Aikawa said with a nod, looking over the final spread. “Let’s serve them while it’s hot.”

As the lunch hour began and the clan members filed in, you busied yourself with serving. The sound of laughter and conversation rang through the air—a sound you were used to observing from a distance. Still, when you noticed one bowl of ramen and a tart missing, a flicker of curiosity stirred within you.

It wasn’t long before you turned to find Hyugo lingering by the kitchen door, holding the tart in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other.

He grinned at you, boyish and shameless. “Told you I was waiting for this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Hyugo.”

He gave you a mock salute with his chopsticks, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Don’t worry, I will.”

You giggled, tilting your head playfully. “So~ did you get a chance to meet your fiancée? You know, the one your brother mentioned?”

Hyugo visibly stiffened, his grin faltering as he choked on a mouthful of food. You gasped, quickly grabbing a cup of water and handing it to him. “Here, drink this!”

He gulped it down, coughing lightly before panting, “You—you can’t just drop that on me while I’m eating!”

You raised a brow, suppressing a laugh. “I was just curious. Everyone’s here today. I wonder who she is…”

Hyugo tapped the edge of his chopsticks against the bowl absentmindedly, avoiding your gaze. His face, unusually quiet now, wore a hint of tension. “My father said I’ll meet her at dinner. Apparently, she’s getting ready or something.”

“Oh,” you hummed softly, offering a small smile. “Well, I hope she’s nice.”

Hyugo glanced at you, his expression softening as you turned away to clean a stray dish. There was something about the way you worked—how you smiled so effortlessly, even when life gave you so little—that tugged at him.

His thoughts spiraled as he looked down at his bowl. Why couldn’t it just be you? The idea sank into his chest like a stone. The sound of his brother’s voice snapped him out of it.

“Hyugo,” Geo’s voice rang from the hall, tinged with teasing irritation. “Are you going to sit down, or are you just going to keep bothering the servant girl?”

Hyugo looked up with a start, finding Geo standing behind him, arms crossed and a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

Hyugo stood quickly, cheeks faintly flushed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he muttered, shooting Geo a glare.

Before leaving, he glanced at you one last time. “Thanks for the fruit tart. It’s… perfect.”

You blinked in surprise, watching him leave with a small, puzzled smile. “You’re welcome…?”

Geo snickered, giving you a smirk before following his brother. “Try not to break his heart, will you?”

You stared after them, feeling your cheeks warm. “What on earth was that about?” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head before turning back to your chores.

As the buzz of lunchtime settled, Hyugo’s lingering gaze and unspoken words tugged at something deep inside you—something you couldn’t quite name.

You were preparing to start the dinner preparations when Mr. Aikawa appeared, standing solemnly at the entrance of the kitchen. His familiar, gentle demeanor now seemed weighed down, his expression unreadable as he blocked your path.

“Mr. Aikawa?” you asked softly, tilting your head in confusion. “Why are you—?”

You stepped to the side, trying to move past him, but he shifted, gently pressing you away from the door. His hands trembled slightly at his sides, though his face remained composed.

“Sorry, Mistress,” he said quietly, the word strange and foreign as it slipped from his lips. “You know clan members aren’t allowed in the kitchen.”

You froze, your chest tightening as though the air had been sucked from the room. “Mistress?” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. “Mr. Aikawa, what are you talking about? What is this?”

This kitchen—this space where you spent nearly every day, where laughter and purpose soothed the ache of your existence—was being ripped away from you. The reality settled like a stone in your stomach.

Mr. Aikawa turned his gaze away, his own eyes glistening with sorrow. “Your father ordered me not to allow you in the kitchen anymore,” he said in a voice that was both stern and broken. “You should… head to the bathhouse to prepare for dinner.”

“No,” you choked out, shaking your head as the guards appeared behind him. Panic seized your chest, and before you realized it, your trembling hands were clutching at his shirt. “Please, Mr. Aikawa, don’t send me away. I want to stay—I want to cook with you—”

You stopped mid-sentence as Mr. Aikawa cupped your face with his weathered hands, his eyes brimming with tears he fought to keep from falling. For the first time, you saw the depth of his pain reflected back at you.

“You aren’t mine, child,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Therefore, I have no way to stop this.” He paused, his thumbs brushing gently over your tear-streaked cheeks. “Forgive me.”

Before you could reply, the guards stepped forward and wrenched you away from him. Your body went limp as they dragged you toward the hall, the weight of shock silencing your protests. You glanced back over your shoulder to see Mr. Aikawa still standing there, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed—defeated.

The warmth of the kitchen, the comforting sounds of simmering pots, and the feeling of being seen and loved vanished behind you, leaving nothing but a hollow silence.

Servants guided you to the bathhouse, their hands firm but impersonal. You sat still as they worked, bathing you in rich, expensive shampoos and fragrant body washes. The scents—lavender, jasmine, and vanilla—lingered in the air, suffocating rather than soothing. Each scrub, each touch against your skin, felt like an intrusion, a stripping away of something sacred.

Your identity—the quiet comfort of your simple life—was being peeled away layer by layer.

Your old, worn clothes, soft with years of familiarity, were cast aside like refuse, discarded into a corner without thought. In their place came the finest fabrics: silken robes dyed with deep, vibrant hues, shimmering under the light. They draped you in them as if dressing a doll, silent and compliant.

You stared blankly at the mirror as they fussed over your hair, slicing away the simplicity that had once defined you. It fell in glossy strands to the floor, replaced by a fashionable cut you didn’t recognize. When the makeup brush swept across your cheeks and lips, it painted over the last remnants of the person you had been.

By the time they were done, you didn’t recognize the girl staring back at you. The reflection in the mirror was elegant, poised, and perfect—everything the Shindou clan expected of you. Yet, as you looked into those carefully shadowed eyes, you felt empty.

It wasn’t you.

It was someone they wanted you to be.

The sharp sound of your father’s voice brought you back to the present. His presence in the room was as cold as ever, but this time, there was something unsettling about it. He placed a hand on your shoulder, the pressure possessive, as if claiming you as something that belonged to him. "You look so beautiful, (Y/N), just like your mother. I’m sorry for neglecting you all these years. I want to surprise you by arranging a match to—"

"Liar," you interrupted, your voice steady, though the storm inside you raged. You didn't look at him, instead meeting your reflection in the mirror, allowing the bitterness to bleed into your words. You knew better than to fight back directly, but you could still sting him with the venom of truth.

The hand on your shoulder tightened, and your breath hitched in response. “You know better than to speak to me like that,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “Show some respect. Remember your place.”

You bit back the words you wanted to scream. The pain of the past, of everything he had put you through, bubbled beneath your skin. But it didn’t matter now. He would never see you. Not truly. Not until it suited him.

"Anyway," he continued, his tone sharp as he adjusted his stance, "you will be on your best behavior tonight. A rat like you needs to understand that there’s no room for mistakes. I'll call for you."

And with that, he left, his footsteps echoing down the hall, leaving you standing in the silence, a chill creeping into your bones where his warmth had once been.

You couldn’t help but stare at your reflection again, the fragile version of yourself that was being sculpted by the hands of others. You hated how the mirror now reflected someone else.

A perfect daughter. A perfect match. And yet, not perfect enough to be loved.

Meanwhile, Hyugo sat at the grand dinner table, his restless eyes darting toward the kitchen doorway. The ornate room buzzed softly with conversation—the polite laughter of clan members, the occasional clink of utensils against porcelain plates—but none of it reached him. His focus remained fixed on that door, waiting. Hoping.

Where were you?

He leaned back slightly, pretending to pay attention as his brother, Geo,corrected him about his slouched posture. Hyugo ignored him, his ears catching faint murmurs from the staff near the far corner of the room. The kitchen staff, normally silent and disciplined during formal meals, seemed unusually chatty. Low whispers carried just far enough for him to sense… something had changed.

Hyugo frowned, his fingers tapping anxiously against the edge of the table. His mind wandered back to the kitchen earlier that day—to your laughter, your kindness, the way the sunlight had caught in your eyes. A warmth he hadn’t realized he craved until it was gone. And now, that same kitchen doorway felt like a wall, keeping you out of sight.

Geo noticed his brother’s distraction, leaning over with a frown. “What’s wrong with you? Waiting for someone?”

“Shut up,” Hyugo muttered, though he could feel the heat rising to his ears.

Geo glares knowingly. “You’re staring at the kitchen like a lovesick fool. What, did you fall in love with the tart instead of eating it?”

Hyugo scowled, though he didn’t answer. He couldn’t admit how much he wanted to see you again, even if just for a moment. The quiet sense of unease from earlier gnawed at him as he studied the staff’s worried expressions and quick glances exchanged across the room. Something was off.

Then, as if on cue, his father’s voice boomed from the head of the table, cutting through the low hum of conversation. “The lady of the hour will join us shortly.”

Hyugo’s heart sank. He didn’t know why, but a sudden weight pressed against his chest, suffocating the small hope he’d held onto all evening. He watched as the room grew silent, the servants moving quickly to prepare for someone’s entrance.

And in that moment, he realized—he didn’t want to meet his fiancée. Not if it meant losing the girl in the kitchen—the one who smiled so brightly and laughed like the very embodiment of warmth.

Just as Hyugo shifted in his seat, ready to slip away and search for you, the sliding door opened with a soft, deliberate thud. The room fell deathly silent, the quiet stretching taut like a thread about to snap.

His breath caught in his throat.

You stepped into the room.

The jeweled hair pins adorning your hair glimmered under the golden light, casting tiny reflections like stars in the night sky. The fine silk of your garments draped elegantly over your form, a vision of poise and grace. For a fleeting moment, Hyugo was struck dumb, awestruck by the beauty before him.

But then—he saw your eyes.

The spark that once made them shine, that made you unmistakably you, was gone. They were hollow now, empty and distant, as though someone had extinguished the fire in your soul and replaced it with nothing but shadows.

Hyugo’s awe turned to anguish.

His heart sank like a stone, a dull ache spreading through his chest. What have they done to you?

The room buzzed with low whispers and speculative glances, gossip swirling like smoke in the air. All eyes were on you as you moved, every step poised and graceful, yet every moment unnatural—controlled.

You took your seat next to Hyugo, your gaze lingering on the kitchen door for just a breath before turning toward him. The faint, practiced smile on your lips didn’t quite reach your empty eyes.

“Surprise,” you murmured softly, your voice quiet, unfamiliar even to yourself. “It’s me. (Y/N) Shindou. Nice to meet you.”

Hyugo’s father nudged him with a sly smirk, clearly pleased, but Hyugo couldn’t bring himself to share in the pride or excitement. He couldn’t smile back.

Instead, he turned to you, searching for the girl he had met in the kitchen earlier—the one who joked and laughed, the one who hummed as she worked, the one who was real. That version of you seemed a world away now, trapped behind the layers of expectation and artifice.

With a resolute look, he reached out, his warm fingers gently curling around your hand. Lifting it to his lips, he pressed a tender kiss against your knuckles. It wasn’t just an act of formality—it was something more.

The room fell silent again as he looked up, his expression serious, his voice carrying a weight that demanded attention and respect.

“Don’t pretend,” Hyugo said firmly, his gaze holding yours. “I don’t want my future wife to hide her true feelings. It’s okay. If you can’t be yourself here, I’ll take you from here tonight.”

A collective murmur rippled through the room, stunned by his words, but Hyugo didn’t care. His focus was solely on you, his grip steady, offering something you hadn’t been given in years: a choice, and a sliver of hope.

For the first time that evening, your hollow expression cracked. The faintest flicker of light returned to your eyes—a spark—as though his words had reached a part of you you thought was long buried.

Your breath hitched as you tried to hold it all back, but the dam broke the moment your gaze met Mr. Aikawa’s from across the room. He stood silently in the shadows, his wrinkled face soft with an unspoken sorrow and pride. It was as though his presence alone reminded you of who you were.

A trembling sniff escaped you, and tears welled up, slipping silently down your cheeks as you turned back to Hyugo. He smiled faintly, as if to say, It’s okay. You don’t have to hold it in. You tried to hide your face, leaning closer to him for a brief moment, shielding yourself from the prying stares of the room.

But then your father moved. His stern, imposing figure cut through the murmuring crowd, his glare like ice. He reached for you with a tense smile, the kind meant only for show, his voice clipped and falsely apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Hyugo,” your father said smoothly, though the edge in his tone was unmistakable. “I will have a quick word with my daughter. Just a moment.”

Without waiting for Hyugo’s response, your father’s hand closed around your arm like a vice. The warmth and safety you had just begun to feel slipped away, replaced by cold dread as he yanked you from your seat, pulling you toward the hallway beyond.

But before he could take another step, a sharp sound cut through the tense silence—the scrape of Hyugo’s chair against the polished floor.

In an instant, Hyugo was behind him, his movements swift and deliberate. The room froze.

Your father barely had time to turn before the glint of Hyugo’s blade flashed under the dim light. A sharp gasp rippled through the crowd as Hyugo pinned the blade at your father’s collar, his voice low and deadly.

“You don’t touch her,” Hyugo growled, his anger simmering beneath the surface like molten fire. With a quick, clean motion, he slid the blade across your father’s throat.

Chaos erupted. Screams filled the air, chairs scraped, and the once-stately room was thrown into disarray. Hyugo’s father, seated at the head of the table, exhaled a heavy sigh as though this was the last outcome he had hoped for—but not entirely unexpected.

“Hyugo…” his father muttered, signaling as Hyugo’s family rushed to kill the remaining Shindou clan members as precautions against them wanting revenge.

You stumbled back in shock, trembling as Hyugo turned to you, blood splattered on his pristine formalwear. But his eyes, fierce yet soft, locked onto yours.

“You’re free now,” he said simply, as though it were the most obvious truth in the world. His hand reached for yours, steady amidst the chaos. “Come with me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked at him—this man who had shattered your gilded prison in a single moment. And for the first time, you truly believed that freedom might be possible. You reached for his hand.

You blinked at the sudden shift, the vivid remnants of your dream still clinging to your thoughts as you sat up slowly, pressing a hand to your aching temple. The haunting image of Hyugo’s outstretched hand lingered before dissolving into reality—the cozy warmth of MC’s living room wrapped around you now, safe and familiar.

“(Y/n)?” MC’s cheerful voice rang through the space, their giggle lighthearted as they plopped down beside you, shaking their head. “You passed out halfway through the movie. Don’t worry, it was adorable.”

You groaned softly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as the lingering grogginess began to fade. “Ugh… Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your movie night. Hyugo kept me up late last night.” You managed a small, tired smile, though the dream still lingered at the edges of your mind like a fog.

MC grinned knowingly and handed you a glass of water, nudging it into your hand. “I bet he did.” They shot you a teasing look before settling in beside you. “Don’t sweat it. You needed a nap. Sol and Hyugo should be back soon anyway. They just went out to grab a few things.”

As if on cue, two solid knocks echoed at the front door.

“That’ll be them,” MC chirped, jumping up to answer. You could hear the faint sound of voices and the shuffle of footsteps as they opened the door.

You stayed on the couch, sipping your water as you stared blankly at the TV screen.

“Yo, sleepyhead,” Hyugo’s familiar voice called out, pulling you from your daze. You looked up to find him stepping inside, holding a bag in one hand and smirking at you. Sol followed close behind, shaking his head at Hyugo’s antics.

“You really passed out during movie night?” Hyugo teased, leaning against the back of the couch. His bright eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something else there too—something softer that lingered for just a moment as he looked at you.

“Shut up,” you grumbled playfully, tossing a pillow at him. “Maybe if you didn’t keep me up so late—”

“That’s your fault for always wanting dessert at midnight,” he interrupted with a grin, easily catching the pillow mid-air.

MC laughed, watching the two of you with a knowing look before heading into the kitchen with Sol. “You two are impossible.”

You rolled your eyes, but when you looked back at Hyugo, his teasing smile softened. He held out the bag in his hand.

“Here,” he said, more quietly this time. “I saw this and thought you’d like it.”

Hyugo’s brows furrowed slightly as his thumb lingered just below your cheek, the tenderness in his touch sending your heart fluttering. His usual teasing demeanor had vanished, replaced by something deeper—something unspoken.

“You dreamed about it?” he asked softly, searching your eyes.

You nodded, offering him a small, reassuring smile, though your voice came out quieter than you intended. “Yeah… about the kitchen, the mess we made… when you stole my taiyaki.” You chuckled faintly, trying to lighten the mood. “I guess I was crying because… it felt so real. Like I was reliving it all.”

Hyugo’s gaze softened, but his seriousness didn’t fade. He leaned back slightly, his hand falling away, though the warmth of his presence remained. “I remember that day too, you know,” he admitted, his voice low. “You were so mad at me—and cute, too—hitting me with that jam bag.” A small, crooked smile tugged at his lips before his expression turned thoughtful. “But when I looked at you… when you smiled… I think I knew. That’s when it started.”

Your breath caught slightly as his words settled over you, carrying more weight than you expected. You tilted your head, studying him. “When what started?”

Hyugo hesitated for only a second, then his eyes met yours, unwavering. “When I started wanting to see that smile every day. Even if it meant getting hit with a hundred jam bags.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The room felt smaller, quieter—just the two of you and the memories that lingered between you.

You smiled shyly, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your cheeks. “You’re such an idiot, Hyugo…”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he teased, the playful lilt returning to his voice, though his eyes stayed warm, sincere. He reached for the box of takoyaki, holding it up like a peace offering. “Here—no jam this time. Just a guy trying to make you smile.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you reached for one of the warm pastries. “You’re lucky you’re good at this.”

Hyugo leaned back, arms crossed with a smug grin. “Lucky? Nah, I’m just determined. You’re worth it.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips when Hyugo kissed you happily. Somehow, it felt like fate had brought you full circle—back to where it all started, back to where you started. And this time, there was no emptiness in your eyes, no hollow shell. Just you… and him.

And for now, that was enough.

#tkatb vn #tkdb #the kid at the back hyugo #tkatb hyugo #the kid at the back fanart #hyugo sugimoto #fanfic #yandere visual novel #yandere x reader #yandere vn #the kid at the back vn #tkatb geo

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horatiocomehome · 7 months ago

Text

Hi my dream last night did something to me so here's a word dump I wrote immediately after waking up so I could get catharsis.

What if... instead of looping, Siffrin just came back to life?

~~~

You should've known it was too easy. No traps, only weak sadnesses, keys in relatively obvious places. It was so easy to get through the first floor.

But now there's a large sadness, and you've taken one hit too many.

As you fall to the ground you see your party close ranks in front of you. To protect you.

You see Bonnie, running up, with a crafted water.

Your vision is going dark.

There's a flicker, above Bonnie. It's…

The sadness it's arm above Bonnie it's attacking.

You tackle Bonnie. Something slams into your back.

You can't move anything except twitch your fingers you ca n't look up just at the floor

Bonnie's boots are there someone is screaming

You aren't g oing to make it.

You wanted more time w ith them you want to live you want t o stay with them you want to stay with them YOU DON'T WANT TO DIE YOU W ANT T O S T A Y W I T H TH

GAME OVER > continue > quit

You wake up from a deep sleep. You had a bad dream last night.

Someone's pulled the sheets up over your head. You toss them off.

Oh.

You aren't in your bed. You're back in your dream.

This is where you died.

It's quiet, now. No sadness. No party.

You look to the side, at the sheets you tossed off that weren't really sheets but your cloak, neatly draped over you where you were stretched out. Like a corpse.

Did you really die? But you're back here, so you couldn't have, right?

Maybe they gave you crafted water and it only just kicked in? But then where's the rest of your party?

There's a sickening certainty setting in to your gut.

You died, didn't you. And somehow you're back.

Your party left without you.

Good. They still need to kill the king.

Maybe… you can still catch up. You need to find them. You're okay! They'll be so happy to see you!

You stagger to your feet. You're a little light-headed, dizzy for a moment, then it passes. You put back on your cloak, grab your hat where it sits (right above where your head used to lie) and put it back on. Onwards you go.

There aren't any sadnesses, as you walk through the halls. Did they manage to defeat them all without you? Or was there some kind of reprieve after that large sadness?

You hope they got a bit of rest.

As you turn the corner, you see an open doorway, hear quiet voices coming through.

You don't know why you pause.

"—if we can't bring him with us, can't we bring him here at least?" you hear Mirabelle whisper, with a desperation that turns your stomach.

"I'm with Mira." Isa's voice is louder but still technically a whisper. He sounds so serious. "What if more sadnesses come? What if—"

You realize they're talking about your body. A shiver goes down your back.

"No." Odile's voice is steel in a way that makes you flinch. "We need to keep moving. We can't go back for them, or bring them with us. And sadnesses are just as likely to come here as that other room."

"BUT—" Mirabelle starts to protest.

You stop listening and force yourself to start moving forward. They don't have to fight! You're right here! You—

You freeze again as Bonnie walks through the doorway. They hug the wall as soon as they make it through the doorway, shooting a glance back over their shoulder before looking back down at the ground.

"Jus' need to make it to Dormont," they whisper so quiet you can barely hear. "I can do that. Just make it to Dormont. They'll all be fine."

They're sniffling as they shuffle along the wall towards you. Still not looking.

"I can make it back to Dormont. Then they won't worry about me and I won't hold them back like a crabbing baby and they'll be just fine and I'll freeze with all the other little kids and wait for them to—"

"Bonbon?" You ask.

They freeze, and turn towards you. Their eyes are dark and puffy.

When they lock eyes with you there's a beat and then they scream, terrified.

There's yelling from the other room. You ignore it. Your stomach is dropping like it's made of lead and you drop to your knees, stretching your arms wide. "Bonnie, no! See, look, I'm okay! I'm alright!"

They take a step back. "F-frin? Yyyou… died?"

"I got better!"

Bonnie tackles you into a hug and you don't have time to flinch as you fall back onto the tile floor, so you just wrap your arms around them. Over their head you see your other companions burst through the door, weapons at the ready.

"I HATE YOU," Bonnie is scream sobbing into your chest. "I HATE YOU I THOUHT YOU WERE DEAD YOU'RE A CRABBING IDIOT I HATE YOU."

Your heart twists but they're still holding you so tight, so you keep hugging them back. Your companions lower their weapons looking like they've seen a ghost.

Maybe they have.

You don't have time to think about it because then they're rushing in to hug you too, the warmth of their bodies pressing into yours, their tears dripping onto you—and you're crying as well, and even Odile, who hung back, has a glint on her cheek.

"I'm back," you say. Bonnie is still sobbing into your chest, but they've stopped yelling at you. "I'm alive. We're all going to be okay."

#isat #in stars and time #isat bonnie #isat siffrin #my writing #starry time #this fic brought to you by a dream where I died and bonnie was heartbroken but then I was just fine the next day #and I was going to tell bonnie BUT THEN I WOKE UP AND I WANTED CATHARSIS #so here

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sunafc · 7 months ago

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accidentally in love - 17, single

taglist: @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @gigiiiiislife @phoenix-eclipses @needtoloveoutloud @azharyy @dearneverland @sleepystrwbrryy @oliwiasworlds @iluv-ace @rrosiitas @staygoldsquatchling02 @p4ndawrites @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @loveliepa @nnnyxie @iluvaquaphor @juliluvhz @kodzuken-hoe @luvvmae @sunset-venuz

if u want to be added to the taglist just let me know in the comments ! !

Right now you are going to the college library, Oikawa offered to help you study for your linguistics exam. He’s right beside you and your fingers brush against each other’s as you walk. This is nice, you think. Over the past few weeks you and Oikawa had spent a lot of time together. It felt natural to be part of each other’s lives. You wanted to introduce him to your friends, as you had just met his own.

Oikawa tugs at your hand, ‘Are you listening to me?’

‘Sorry,’ you look down at your hands, interlaced together, ‘What did you say?’

He smiles softly at you, ‘Do you want to grab dinner together, later?’

Oikawa doesn’t let go of your hand and you come to realize you enjoy that. His skin is really soft. He tugs at you again, noticing you’re getting lost in your thoughts once more.

‘Sure,’ you nod smiling back at him.

He holds the door to the library open for you and then follows you in. You spend a few minutes looking for the books you need before finding a free table.

You chose to study in the library because you knew if you studied at home you would get somehow distracted, though it seems the library isn’t really helping you. You’re finding it very difficult to concentrate when Oikawa is sitting next to you and his thigh presses against yours under the table. You keep reading the same sentence over and over again but the words have no meaning. You can’t stop thinking about how the last couple weeks have felt like dating, rumors even started going around campus about you two. But you don’t need a boyfriend, that’s what you settled on. You let out a deep sigh and read that sentence once more.

Once you’re done reading the chapter Oikawa lends you some flash cards, ‘I made these when I took this exam, I thought maybe they could help you.’

‘Thanks,’ you smile.

He pats your head ‘You seem a little out of it,’ his fingers run through your hair, ‘Are you alright?’

You open your mouth to reply, already thinking of the usual answer Just tired, but you stop when you notice two girls making their way towards your table. Oikawa’s hand in your hair drops to your thigh as he turns to them.

‘Hey,’ one of the girls says, fidgeting with her hands. Oh, you already have a feeling of what is about to happen and the air around you starts feeling really cold.

‘Are you single, Oikawa?’ She finally asks.

He nervously looks at you and you’re not sure how to read his face. He looks back at the girl. Your stomach is in a knot, he is single, you two are not dating. She’s really pretty, too. You don’t want to be there when he answers her, you quickly gather your things under the confused gaze of Oikawa.

His grip on your thigh tightens ‘Y/n?’

You move his hand, ‘Sorry I–’ you get up, ‘I need to go,’ you walk towards the exit without even thinking about making up some excuse. Your heart is racing, your hands are tingling, it’s hard to swallow and you’re feeling anxious, worried, sad... is this jealousy? This is all my fault, you want to be mad at Oikawa but this was really all your doing. You did exactly what you told him not to do so, really, you can only be mad at yourself. You shake your head as your vision starts to get blurry because of the tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

notes:

well well well, if these aren't the consequences of y/n's own actions... ops

anyways!

things will get better next chapter.. maybe😋

for the people who asked to be added to the taglist but don't see their names: tumblr won't let me tag u for some reason so i'm sorry abt that 🙁

previous - masterlist - next

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu x you #oikawa smau #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #hq

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smilingcrittersthingig · 3 months ago

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A lotta you said I can show some ocs so you can have these guys I made and my friends created/helped, who I call the Ugly Critters! (edit: for no reason other than it sounded funny, it's not meant to be degrading)

I'll start it off with Gar the strange creature, my lil guy. Awkward and quiet. Gar is usually not that talkative. On the rare instance he does however, he usually speaks in single words or broken english. Despite looking off-putting, he's a very sweet guy.

His pendant's a button

Next is Bitu the blib, created by my friendo and co-creator of ego critters @thenightmarestudio He's just a lil blob who tell you fun facts, his face are emoticons that can change depending on his emotions and is a pretty silly dude. He loves to go off about the things he love and will gladly talk to you about it if you are willing to listen. His pendant's his face

Kloob, a blobfish! suggested by my friend, Child He's pretty good at most stuff, only problem is he's too sad to do anything. He tends to sit at the corner or lay on the floor. Though, on good days he might even stand up! He's willing to go along with whatever his close friends drag him to. His pendant's a sad rose I think

Make way make way, for it is Manaso the snake! Suggested by my friend, Ducky He's a witch who entertains people with his magic and spells, Whether or not his magic is true is still a mystery. He acts as if he doesn't care, but say one wrong thing around him and you might never be heard of ever again. His pendant's a star

Roquefort the Lamprey! Suggested by @theonetruegnome A simple con artist, scamming you with fake medicine. He has quite a sharp tongue as well, only being a little nicer to a couple close friends (Manaso's his mortal enemy). He sells effective medicine sometimes too, though those ones are a tad more expensive His pendant's a medicine bottle I think

Glorbok, weird creature created by @mateom31 He will bite ur ankles hard. Unless he likes you, then you will simply be gently bitten. Despite how he appears, Glorbok is quite a cute buddy to have around, well unless you're fine random gremlin moments. His pendant's a bitten off piece of styrofoam

It's just your luck, it's Lucky! Suggested by my brother A very unfortunate dino with a very ironic name. He tries his best to look on the bright side of things, but it's quite difficult when the bright side feels like it's avoiding you. His pendant's an umbrella

It's Birdie Tree the bird! Suggested by my gf Appears at random times to surprise people and disappears abruptly without warning anyone. He gets a vision of something from 3 months in the future and talks about it vaguely to his friends who has no idea if he's being legit.

That's all of them, thx for reading through this

#smiling critters #smiling critters oc #ugly critters #gar the beast #bitu the blob #kloob the blobfish #manaso the snake #roquefort the lamprey #glorbok the creature #lucky the dino #birdie tree the bird

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oldsoul007 · 2 months ago

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Second Chances

nicholas chavez x reader

summary: nicholas and reader were high school sweethearts and haven’t seen each other in years but what happens when you see him on tv

I was flipping through channels one evening when I suddenly froze. There, on the screen, was Nicholas, my high school sweetheart, starring in a popular TV show. I couldn't believe my eyes. It had been years since we’d seen each other, and here he was, looking as charming as ever.

I felt a rush of emotions—nostalgia, excitement, and a bit of sadness. Memories of our time together in high school came flooding back: late-night talks, prom night, and the way he used to make me laugh. Seeing him on TV was surreal, like a piece of my past had come back to life.

I couldn't help but smile as I watched him. I felt proud of him for making it big, but also a bit wistful, wondering what might have been if our paths hadn't diverged.

I walked into the cozy coffee shop, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. I had just seen Nicholas on TV the night before, starring in a popular show. Memories of our high school days together came flooding back. We were inseparable back then, high school sweethearts who thought we’d be together forever.

As I waited for my order, I glanced around the room and nearly dropped my phone when I saw him. Nicholas was sitting at a table near the window, engrossed in a book. My heart raced, and i felt a mix of excitement and nerves.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to pretend I didn’t see him. What would I even say. I doubt he’d remember me. I wouldn’t want him to think I only went up because of his new fame.

As I waited even longer for my drink filled with anxiety, I see someone walk up to me in my peripheral vision. "Y/n? Wow, it's been so long!" He stood up, giving me a warm smile.

“Oh my god! Nick” I acted surprised. He pulled me in for a hug feeling the familiar embrace. As he leaned out of the hug he said. “I swear it was you but I wasn’t sure and just decided to see, wow you look great.” I laugh as he spoke.

“What are you doing in LA?” He asked. “Oh well I got an internship on this new movie but I’ve been here for a while. How about you?” I asked.

“Oh well, I’ve been pursuing acting a little bit more so it’s easier to just be here.”

We spent the next hour catching up, talking about our lives since high school. I couldn't help but feel a spark of the old connection we once had. It was as if no time had passed at all.

“Ok well I have to get back to set, but I’d love to see you again. Here give me your number.” He said handing me his phone. I typed it in and said our goodbyes.

Nicholas and I met up at a cozy bar one evening, the atmosphere buzzing with low chatter and the clink of glasses. We ordered a couple of drinks and settled into a corner booth, catching up on life. We laughed about old times, shared our current ambitions, and reminisced about the paths we had taken.

"Do you remember that time we got caught sneaking out to go stargazing and stole a pack of cigarettes from my dad?" I asked, a playful smile on my face.

Nicholas chuckled, "How could I forget? We thought we were so slick, but my mom was waiting for us at the door when we got back."

We both laughed, the memory bringing back a wave of nostalgia. After a moment, Nicholas's expression turned more serious. "You know, I always wondered what would have happened if things had been different."

I nodded, my eyes reflecting the same curiosity. "Me too. I guess life just took us in different directions. But seeing you again... it feels like no time has passed."

Nicholas smiled warmly. "It's funny how some things never change. It's really nice to catch up like this."

I agreed, feeling the familiar warmth and connection. "Yeah, it really is. I'm glad we decided to do this."

As the evening wore on, the familiar song Tennessee Whiskey, began to play. Nicholas's eyes lit up, and he turned to me with a grin. "Hey, remember this song? They played it at our prom."

My face softened with nostalgia. "How could I forget? That was such a magical night, even if we were only at the dance for five minutes."

Nicholas stood up and extended his hand to me. "Dance with me?"

I hesitated for a moment, then placed my hand in his. We moved to the small dance floor, swaying gently to the music. The memories of our prom night flooded back, and for a moment, it felt like we were back in high school, wrapped in the same youthful excitement and unspoken feelings.

As we danced, the world around us seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us and the music. The connection we shared was undeniable, but for now, we simply enjoyed the moment, letting the past and present blend together seamlessly.

As Nicholas and y/n swayed to the music, lost in their own world, they didn't notice the flash of a camera from the bar's entrance. A paparazzi had managed to catch the intimate moment, snapping a photo that would soon make headlines.

Flashback

Nicholas and I have been dating for a while now, our relationship filled with thrilling moments and stolen glances. One night, Nicholas decided to surprise me. He climbed up the tree outside my bedroom window, carefully making his way to the ledge.

When I was finishing some homework, I suddenly started hearing a soft tap on my window, I opened it with a grin. "Nick, what are you doing here?"

He smirked, slipping inside quietly. "I couldn't wait until tomorrow to see you."

We spent hours talking and laughing in whispers, savoring the forbidden thrill of our secret rendezvous. When it was time for Nicholas to leave, he gave me a quick kiss and climbed back out the window, making sure not to get caught.

As he disappeared into the night, I watched him go, my heart racing with excitement and a sense of adventure. Those nights were some of our most cherished memories, filled with the excitement of young love and the thrill of sneaking around.

The next morning, the tabloids were buzzing with the news. "Does Nicholas Chavez Have a Girlfriend?" the headline blared, accompanied by a photo of them dancing closely, their faces lit with warmth and nostalgia.

Nicholas saw the headline and sighed, knowing it would stir up questions and speculation. He called y/n to give her a heads-up. "Hey, did you see the news?"

She laughed softly. "Yeah, I saw it. Guess we made quite the impression last night."

We both knew that the photo would lead to a lot of attention, but for now, we decided to take it in stride. After all, the night had been special, and no headline could take that away from us.

I looked at the headline again and then turned to Nicholas, my expression thoughtful. "Do you ever wish you could have more privacy? I mean, do you really like this newfound fame?"

Nicholas paused, considering my question. "Honestly, it's a double-edged sword. I love what I do and the opportunities it brings, but sometimes I miss the simplicity of just being able to hang out without worrying about cameras and headlines."

I nodded, understanding his perspective. "I can imagine it must be tough. But for what it's worth, I think you're handling it really well."

Nicholas smiled, appreciating her support. "Thanks, y/n. It helps having someone who gets it and is there to share these moments with."

Nicholas and Y/n started hanging out more, finding comfort in each other's company. They'd grab coffee, go for walks, and talk about everything from their favorite movies to their dreams for the future. It felt so natural, like slipping back into an old routine.

But underneath the laughter and easy conversation, there were feelings that neither of them dared to mention. Every time their hands brushed or their eyes met for a little too long, it was like a spark of something familiar and unspoken.

They both felt it, that lingering connection from the past, but neither wanted to risk the friendship they were rebuilding. So, they kept those feelings tucked away, enjoying the moments they had together and wondering if the other felt the same.

After one night drew to a close, Nicholas and I found ourselves standing alone on the porch, the cool night air wrapping around us. The stars twinkled above, casting a gentle glow over our faces.

Nicholas took a step closer, his heart pounding in his chest. "Y/n, I've missed you more than I can say. Seeing you again has made me realize just how much."

I felt a rush of emotions flood through me. "Nick, I've missed you too. I never stopped thinking about you."

Without another word, Nicholas gently cupped my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. Seeing none, he leaned in, and our lips met in a passionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with years of longing and unspoken feelings, a kiss that bridged the gap between their past and their future.

As we pulled away, breathless and smiling, we knew that this was the start of something new, yet so beautifully familiar. We had finally found our way back to each other. A second chance.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholaschavezimagines #charlie mayhew x reader #charliemayhewimagine #charliemayhewimagines #nicholas chavez imagines #nicholas alexander chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas alexander chavez fanfic #nicholas chavez fluff #nicholas chavez angst

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johnwickb1tsch · 10 months ago

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 21 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-You toss and turn, of course, utterly unable to sleep.

Your body does not get the memo that it’s a bad idea to fuck a man like John Wick, who is a killer who is holding you prisoner, and refuses to simmer down. You are uncomfortably swollen between your legs, your pussy aching with frustration, and in the wee hours of the morning you are certain you are about to lose your goddamn fucking mind.

How is he really going to fucking know?

This is the stupid little thought that plays through your tired brain as you writhe beneath the covers, running hands up over your torso, pretending they are his.

Imagining his touch tweaking the sensitive tips of your nipples, his fingers buried inside you, seeking that sensitive place that drives you wild.

Yours are too soft, too small, not long enough or thick enough by half.

You try to trick yourself that it’s his unrelenting touch circling your clit, furious in his claiming of your pleasure as his own…

It’s not enough by half, and the release that washes over you is a paltry consolation at best, a weak pleasure that you know is a sad facsimile of the real thing. Still, you can’t stop yourself from sighing his name, and how has he mind-fucked you so royally in such a short amount of time?

It pisses you off, and in a last act of defiance for the night you flip off the camera high in the corner.

He’s probably not watching anyway. He’s probably asleep, snug in his bed with Dog, the bastard.

Feeling sad and not really sated at all, you curl into a ball and try to finally get some rest. It’s lonely in this big bed all by yourself, and by the time sleep finally claims you your pillow is damp with tears.

-When finally you wake in the morning, you are cold. The covers are down around your waist, and your shoulders ache, your arms at an odd angle out in front of you.

You never sleep like this.

There’s something on your wrists.

You open your eyes, blinking away the blur of sleep. Your vision focuses on something red.

A very neat line of shibari style knots encircles your wrists and half your forearms. They would have been beautiful, in a different setting. Like, not on your body, without your consent.

They’re not so tight to cut off your circulation, but they’re not exactly comfortable either. You strain against the silk rope, and find you can’t budge them.

You are so fucked.

“I warned you.”

John is sitting in the chair in the corner, watching you. He’s wearing all black again, a button down and slacks this time. Looking his best for you, or does he have somewhere to be? It’s not something you would have paid attention to before, but this morning, you can’t help but fixate on the fact that he’s wearing a leather belt.

Because you’re an idiot, you snipe anyway, “Wow, looks like someone earned his merit badge in macramé.”

He just smirks at you, the beautiful bastard.

“I’ve got more than a badge, honey.”

“Very funny. Untie me.”

“You’ll have to earn it, bad girl.”

Your heart skitters around in your chest as you wonder what that means.

He goes on, “Did you really think I wouldn’t see you last night?”

“Guess I assumed you’d be sleeping. It was way past your bedtime.”

He scoffs at the old man dig, leaning forward on his knees, fixing you with that hawkish gaze. “I found out I only sleep well with you in my arms, darling. Wouldn’t that have been nice last night?”

Yes, it would have. However, you just frown at him.

“So, was it worth it?” he pushes.

You sigh, half tempted to tell him how utterly unsatisfying your little session of self-indulgence had been. Rather than answer him, you look at the knots again. They really are beautiful. It makes you think of the book binding shop you’d visited in Florence, and the complicated stitches and knots they used to affix the signatures of pages together.

This man likes binding all kinds of things, it seems.

“Are you hungry?”

Only then do you notice that he has a plate of breakfast foods on the little table beside him. Eggs, toast, and bacon. A little plastic cup that might be water or juice. Your tummy answers with a rumble. Dog did eat your dinner last night, and John never offered you a replacement sandwich. At the time you’d been too worked up about…everything, to care.

“Maybe.”

He huffs a little laugh at you. “Come here.” He pats his knee, and you realize he wants you to sit on his lap—so he can feed you. A little growl in the back of your throat escapes you, and it only makes his smirk widen.

“God, you’re adorable when you’re angry.”

“I’m not hungry,” you grouse.

You are starving, and you both know it.

“Come. Here.”

There’s that chilling tone of voice again. It does not fail to fill your veins with ice, your heart skipping a beat before skittering irregularly in your chest. You’ve come to understand that it means playtime is over.

You are so fucked.

It is awkward, getting out of the bed with your wrists tied like this. You almost fall on your face, your foot getting tangled in the sheet. From John’s forbidding expression, you don’t think he would have caught you from hitting the floor this time.

You are still only dressed in the thin nightie, and the air is cold on your skin. Your nipples tighten, forming sharp peaks beneath the fabric, the silk lending agonizing friction that makes you want to press your thighs to relieve some of the sudden ache between them.

Last night so did not help you with this problem, and John’s eyes fixating on them does not help either, and you wonder if you’ll be in trouble when you stain his neat looking pants leg with your slick after sitting on him.

“Come here,” he says again, his tone much gentler this time.

Defeated, you shuffle forward, letting him guide you to perch on his knee with a hand on your hip. You barely manage to suppress a shudder as possessively his hand slides just under your skirt, resting on the warm pillow of your thigh. His long fingers are so close to your center, but he makes no move, letting you stew in it.

Bastard.

Only then do you turn to look at him, finding his gaze fixed on your face. “Good morning.”

When you say nothing in return he lifts one eyebrow, and you swear, this man will be the death of you out of frustration alone.

“Good morning,” you finally return, hating the meek timbre of your tone.

“Do you like scrambled eggs?” You nod, and he scoops up a forkful. You notice the fork is plastic, and you wonder if its for your safety, or for his.

He’s clearly never seen Hot Tub Time Machine.

“I would have taken you to breakfast in Venice, but someone had to run away.”

“Well, someone was an insufferable prig the night before,” you return primly, wondering what punishment this will earn you, unable to stop yourself from saying it anyway. He actually smirks at this, though his grip tightens a bit in warning on your thigh. Not enough to hurt, but oh.

You are definitely leaving a wet spot on his trousers, and you hate yourself a little more for it.

You finish your breakfast bite by bite like the good girl you’re apparently not. It was good, if not the weirdest seating arrangement you’ve ever endured. You tremble inside, as you wonder what he has in mind for you next, now that your energy is up and you are trussed like a holiday goose for his pleasure.

You couldn’t be more surprised, than when he deposits you on the bed, kisses your cheek, and bids you, “Have a nice day, sweetie.”

“Wait!” you exclaim, whirling as he is already halfway to the door, swinging his suit jacket about his broad shoulders. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

You hate it, that hearing this fills you with panic. “Are you coming back?”

“Do you want me to come back?” There is a dangerous glitter in those dark eyes, and you know that is a question loaded with fourteen in the clip and one in the chamber.

You decide on, “I want you to untie me.” Holding up your wrists as exhibit A.

He shrugs a little, and you know that was not the answer he wanted. “Maybe later.” Then he sweeps out of the room, leaving you staring dumbfounded at the door where he’d just been. The man is like a fucking ghost.

“Bastard!”

You hope he hears you, but you suspect the epithet falls on deaf ears.

-Your first order of business, of course, is trying to undo these beautiful fucking knots. Unfortunately for you, they are tight, and secure, and John was smart enough to make the finishing hitch with the end tails on the opposite side of your wrist where you cannot easily reach them with your teeth.

Sonofabitch.

If he’d left you Dog for company you could have enlisted the pooch’s formidable chompers, perhaps, but no dice on that one.

Fine.

You sit under the covers for a while, because you’re cold. You try to read, but it is infuriatingly difficult to turn the pages of a book and read comfortably with your hands like this.

You are certain lunch time comes and goes, without a peep out of John.

Did he actually leave you?

You hate it, how the thought makes a trill of panic vibrate in your chest.

Fine. It’s fucking fine.

He thinks he can break you with alone time? You? You are the Queen of Introversion. You can go for days without human interaction, happily, so long as you have a sketchbook or a book. Bring it on, Mr. Wick.

He left you the water cup with the straw, and boy is that an adventure to refill in the bathroom when you’re thirsty.

Going pee without making a mess is no small feat either.

You pace the room, just to get some exercise. You look out the window, watching the birds in the trees.

You laugh to yourself, banging your head against the bulletproof glass. How funny, that you’d once fancied yourself Jane Eyre, when it turned out you were destined to be Mad Bertha locked up in the attic by Rochester all along.

You hate to admit it, but by the time the sun is starting to set behind the trees you are going stir crazy with wondering where the fuck he is.

It’s definitely not because you miss him.

It’s just…these fucking ropes, of course. It’s not those burning dark eyes, or those large sure hands, or that sturdy long body he likes to press to yours. It’s not that the silence of the room feels empty without his deep voice, even if he’s using it to taunt you.

It is late by the time you hear the locks on the door whir, and you have been sitting in your nest in bed feeling listless and way too sorry for yourself. You are half out of your mind with boredom, and your shoulders and elbows ache at the joints from the restraints at your wrist. You try not to show it, but you are ready to climb up the fucking walls.

Like he might have some inkling of this, John pays you a knowing smile, assuming his seat with the confidence of a king in his throne room. He snaps and pats his thigh, no words this time, expecting you to obey.

Someday, you are going to make him pay for this.

But now…there’s nothing for it but to play his twisted game.

He’s prepared some kind of stir-fry tonight, with vegetables, beef, and rice. You are starving by now, and it smells heavenly.

Again, the food is good, simple but filling. He feeds you forkful by forkful with a careful tenderness that could make you weep. Your time with John is like a game of Russian Roulette. Spin the wheel, which John shall you receive this minute?

It’s easy to hate Mean John. Insufferable Ass Hat John, could drive you to murder. But Sweet John? You would do anything, for Sweet John, and you’re afraid he knows it too.

It’s only been a day, really. Is that right? A day? And already, you feel yourself slipping into the mould he’s fashioned for you.

Perhaps in a knee-jerk attempt to counter this, you ask, “Did you used to play this game with Helen?”

He freezes with the fork halfway to your lips, his hand underneath your skirt with his dead wife’s name in your mouth.

You meant to throw him off, but as far as you can tell, all it earns you is a scoff. “No.”

“Why not?”

He actually seems to consider your question, toying with the food again, re-loading the fork with a different bite. “I was never afraid she would leave me. Funny, how that worked out.”

You feel like he’s handed you an important piece of information. Emboldened by his quietness, you dare push, “And…what do you think she’d think, about what you’re doing to me now?”

“I’d say she lost her vote, when she left me.” The indifference is gone; this is delivered with a stinging bitterness, and you realize he blames her for leaving him. There’s a clue in this too, and you feel like the solution to all this is an illusive thing hovering just barely out of your grasp. If you can find just the right words, push just the right buttons…maybe you can bring him back to sanity?

“She never would have left you on purpose, John. She got sick. You’ve got to forgive her.”

And accept you can’t control everyone around you. Then preferably, untie me! motherfucker.

The only indication he gives that you’ve upset him is the tightening of his fingers digging into your thigh. You’re going to have bruises, but if he’s actually processing what you’re saying, it’s a price you’ll gladly pay.

He just continues to push the medley of food around on the plate, shaking his head in silence. Disappointed in his nonreaction to your question, you sullenly accept the next bite.

Three seconds later, your mouth is on fire.

You squeal with panic, leaning for the plate to spit it out. But John’s big hand clamps over your mouth, a hard glint in his eyes, and you know you’re going to have to swallow it. It takes three tries, but you manage, tears streaming from the corner of your eyes.

You can do moderately spicy food, but that was just fucking diabolical.

“What the fuck?” you hiss between coughs.

“I knew you’d have something smart to say tonight.”

You try to reach for the water cup with its stupid little straw and your stupidly bound-together hands, but John sets it out of reach. “Oh my god, please?”

He speaks calmly, as though the lining of your mouth is not being eaten away like you took a bite of rice laced with battery acid. “You keep speaking about Helen like you knew her. I suggest you cut it out. Unless you would like all your meals seasoned like this.”

You blow a long breath of air over your tongue. It only sort of helps.

Mother. Fucker.

You glare daggers, but for now, you’re wise enough (broken enough?) to keep your epithets to yourself.

He sits back in the chair to regard you, tossing the fork into what’s left on the plate. You’re still hungry, but you’ll be damned if you eat anymore from that dish. You flinch as he reaches for you, though he is not cruel as he grips your hair at the base of your head. Just…exacting, and he guides you to perch on the edge of the chair between his legs, your bare ass fitted against his crotch.

It feels good as he starts to braid your hair, a jarring contrast to the pain still simmering in your mouth. You whimper a little, despite yourself, arching into him behind you. You didn’t even mean to, really, but it wins you a low groan that fills you with forbidden warmth.

This is so fucked.

Nothing you’ve experienced in your life has prepared you for handling this.

When he finishes he wraps the new handle of your plaited hair in his fist, pulling you back against his chest. He is warm, and solid, and you fail royally as you try not to enjoy this contact. It’s ridiculous, but all you really want is for him to hold you.

He speaks against the shell of your ear, his other hand lightly encircling your throat. “I’ll never let you leave me.”

Your heart drums frantically in your chest; he means business. You can just tell, there is an unyielding hardness in his tone that somehow wasn’t quite there before. You thought you could reason with this man, but maybe you were wrong, or maybe you only succeeded in pushing his sanity the other way, further into the red.

Maybe there’s nothing left to reason with, and that is the thing that finally, truly scares you.

“Maybe you need something else to fill up that sassy mouth.”

With his improvised handle he guides you down to sit between his splayed legs. Your eyes are drawn to the newly erected tent in his pants, that formidable bulge that should be the stuff of your nightmares, but still inspires a maddening longing inside you.

Why do you have to feel so empty, when he’s near?

Frustrated by the unfairness of it all, you glare daggers up at him. You know what he’s angling to extort out of you, of course. It makes you sad, but not for the reason he might have expected. It makes you sad, because you would have rubbed your knees raw sucking him off, if he’d just asked you nicely.

“Thanks, but I’m full.”

He snorts at that. “Yeah? Someone doesn’t want her hands untied that badly.”

Now, that is something you want, and maybe you’re willing to play with that on the table. You’ve never thought of yourself as someone who is easily led, but he is good at manipulating you. It makes you wonder if any of it was ever real, or if this is just a game he’s been playing with you from day one.

The thought makes you sigh, and you rest your cheek on his lean thigh, closing your eyes.

He looks down at you like you’re a puzzle he’s not quite sure how to solve.

Welcome to the club, Mr. Wick.

“Were you planning this all along?” you ask. “When you were so sweet to me? Am I that fucking stupid that I didn’t see this coming?” Obviously, from the clothes in the closet, he’d hoped you’d come stay with him at some point, but all the rest? It feels spontaneous, like the way something hard can suddenly crack with too much pressure. But then again, maybe just because it took you by such fucking surprise.

He strokes your hair, and that gentle touch just makes it worse somehow. You feel the sting of tears in the corners of your eyes, because that gentleness is all you wanted from him. The ironic part is that he wouldn’t have had to do any of this shit, just to keep you.

You do not love easily, but once you do…it is a total, and all-consuming thing.

“I don’t know,” he answers begrudgingly. “I just…couldn’t let you leave me.”

You think about how he’d been an orphan. He’d lost his parents. He’d lost his wife. He’d lost his dog. He’d gone on a rampage and slaughtered an entire Russian Bratva…for the loss of a dog.

In perspective you guess he’d actually behaved rather tamely, at the threat of losing you. This man does nothing by halves, and the only thing John Wick fears, it seems, is losing those he loves.

Is that what he’d meant, when he said his love was a curse?

It doesn’t excuse it, but there is a key somewhere in that, you reason. A key to freedom, or the gates of Hell, you’re not really sure.

You do your best to blink away your tears. Maybe it’s stupid, because you’re not half as tough as he is, but you don’t really want him to see you cry.

He lets you sit like that for as long as you want, stroking your hair. It’s almost sweet, and it gives you time to collect yourself.

Someday, he’s going to figure out it’s best not to give you a chance to plot your next move. It occurs to you that maybe you have one last card to play.

You sit up slowly on your knees between his legs, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze weighing upon your skin. You reach for his belt, brushing his erection through his pants, his manhood twitching in anticipation. For just a second, he allows himself to close his eyes.

Maybe you have power too. You just have to figure out how to use it here, and maybe not lose you mind over how thick and wonderful he just felt beneath your hand. That unhelpful pulsing between your legs casts its vote. You try to unobtrusively squeeze your thighs for some relief, but you fear this man sees everything.

Good for you, that your voice sounds almost steady. “I have to say, you’re a brave man, Mr. Wick.”

It is not easy to work the buckle of his belt with your hands bound like this, but somehow you manage, even pulling it from its loops. You fight the urge to throw the damn thing across the room, but settle for resting it at his feet.

“How do you figure?”

“Well...” You flip open the top button of his pants, your fingers shaking slightly. “If we are engaging in that time-honored exchange of a favor for a blowjob... and you just essentially carpet bombed my mouth with napalm...wow, you do like to live dangerously.”

He sits still as a statue for a good few moments, weighing what you’re telling him, gauging if the capsaicin would transfer through your saliva to what is arguably the most sensitive area of his body. You’re 98 percent certain they would, and a part of you hopes he’ll opt to try it even after you warn him.

It would make for a neat little slice of revenge.

But then, what you really want is out of these ropes, and you hope your honesty will win you some points with him.

In the end he catches your hands, as you are awkwardly trying to work his zipper.

“Maybe we'll skip that for now.”

“You sure? Where’s your sense of adventure?”

He narrows his eyes down at you, and you wonder if you’re inventing it, or is there a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes?

“In my other pants.”

In the end he pulls you back up into his lap with a grumble.

You suspect you’ve only delayed the inevitable, but you feel some satisfaction for your little coup.

“I’ll be back,” he tells you, (threatens you?), depositing you on the bed, gathering the dishes and sweeping out of the room. You have a feeling this interaction was not half as satisfying as he’d hoped it would be.

Well, good.

Bastard.

-When he returns, he brings you a cup of milk. Though most of the pain from the chilis has already subsided by now, you accept it for the calorie count if anything.

“Are you alright?” he asks with a hand on your cheek, looking you over appraisingly.

Thinking this might be your best moment, you lift your bound hands with a pitiful pout, blinking your eyelashes innocently.

“Will you untie me now?” you ask in your sweetest tone, words loaded with contrition.

“You think you’ve earned it?” he asks, and you sense this is a perilous path you’re approaching.

“I’ve been good.”

“Hmm.”

“Come on. I mouthed off. You punished me. You had your fun. And rather than give in to my initial vindictive impulses, I saved you from a very uncomfortable evening. It’s the least you can do.”

He actually chuckles at this, stroking your cheek with his thumb. He seems softened by your bright little tirade, but then this man’s mood can change on a dime.

“And, it’s starting to hurt,” you add.

It’s not a lie, and it seems that is the thing that makes him pause.

“You don’t like my knot work?”

Your heart lodges in your throat, and you know you must proceed with caution, or you’ll be wearing this shit for a week at least.

“Your knots are very fine, Mr. Wick.”

Your captor practically purrs at hearing that, a low rumbling sound from deep in his chest, his hand burying in your hair. It sends a tingling thrill all across your scalp.

You’ve come to reluctantly love his fixation with grabbing your mane.

You really are losing your mind.

“I’ll make you a deal, kitten.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll untie you…if you will take a bath with me.” His tone is the low rumble of a jungle cat, and your heart leaps into your throat. You knew this was coming, eventually. Maybe you just didn’t expect it tonight.

Looking back, you’re not sure why.

“NowI get to see you?”

You are still puzzling over the way he’d outright prevented you from undressing him, in Venice. It was almost like he’d been afraid, and you don’t understand at all. He’s fucking gorgeous, and you’re pretty sure he knows it. So…why?

“I told you, you weren’t ready then.”

You suspect the real answer is that he wasn’t ready, but for once, you don’t contradict him.

He runs a finger down the line of his neat knots that are starting to bite into your flesh. It’s starting to affect the feeling in your fingers, and you know that can’t be good.

“So? What do you say?”

You crane your neck to look up at him, drinking in the lines of his handsome face, his straight nose and proud lips, and the delicately drawn sweep of his eyes. Even with the shadow of a black eye, courtesy of you, he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. You shouldn’t want him, after everything he’s done to you. You shouldn’t, but you feel yourself inevitably drawn to him, like the moon pulls the tide.

You feel like you’re signing a piece of your soul away to the devil on the dotted line, when at last you nod.

He puts a hand to his ear with a smirk. “What was that?”

Your groan comes out like a growl.

“You have a deal, Mr. Wick, sir.”

His low rumble of approval gives you chills, and when he turns your face up to kiss you sweetly you utterly melt beneath his hands, jarred by the contrast from earlier, but not questioning it. You bask in the press of his soft lips, greedy for his tenderness, hoping stupidly that this is the way things will be from now on. Then you yelp with surprise as suddenly he scoops you up with his hands on your thighs, carrying you into the bathroom.

#please enjoy this absolute chonk of a chapter #you guys have earned it!#i loooove you!!!!#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #bittersweet john wick imagine #yandere john wick x you #yandere john wick #yandere

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aloneinthehellfire · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter Twenty: Friend Or Foe, Part I

Gates Of Hell

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of grief and death (steve is having a hard time and it's my fault), themes of threat

[A/N: Did anyone say they've been needing a writer to return with a buttload of angst and scream-worthy cliffhangers? No? Well, I'm back now so I guess you don't have a choice.]

Friend Or Foe, Part I

He can’t stop replaying that moment in his head.

“I’m gonna turn any minute now.” You place your hands on his cheeks, making sure he was listening to your every word. “And I don’t want my last memory to be crossing back into our home knowing I won’t make it five steps before the virus kills me. Okay? So, you’re gonna go through the gate and you’re not ever gonna look back. Please. Don’t come back for me.”

“I can’t-” He cries and you bring his forehead down to touch yours, nodding.

“I know.” You whisper, leaning forward to leave a feather-light kiss on his lips.

His eyes are still closed when you lean back, studying him one last time.

“Which is why I’m sorry.”

Steve’s eyes snap open just in time to watch your hands find his chest and shove him as hard as you can, his body ripping through the gate faster than he can experience.

His back hits solid concrete, making him groan. It takes a second for him to blink away the dots in his vision, slowly sitting up. He can see your figure clearly, your sad eyes, the smile gracing your lips.

And then the gate starts to sew itself shut.

Your words are stuck on a never-ending loop, the bittersweet memory of your voice floating past his ears every morning he awoke since he lost you. It replays because his subconscious wants to torture him, remind him of everything he could have done but never did.

If he had just opened his eyes... If he had opened his eyes, you wouldn’t be trapped in the Upside Down. If he had opened his eyes, Jonathan Byers would still be alive.

The ceiling he stared at never crushed him like he wanted it to every time he blinked into to the realisation he was a failure. He couldn’t do anything right. Everyone around him would be better off if the murky grey ceiling caved in and buried him under its rubble.

And yet even with all his silent prayers, the building stayed steady, and he was forced to push himself out of bed and face the reality. He messed up, twice. And now everyone else had to pay for it.

Just as he pulled a shirt over his head, a drone of voices could be heard from the living room. He cracks open his door, Hopper’s rough words echoing loud.

“They’re forcing us to leave.”

Steve sobered up fast, quickly and quietly descending the staircase and rounding the corner to a view of, well, everyone. Hopper must have called everyone in for a meeting. Everyone but him.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, ignoring the looks from the Party. They always greeted him with such pity now, sorrow lacing their features like he was a kicked puppy that needed cheering up.

“Just in time.” Hopper greets, running a hand down his face. “The military are expanding the quarantine.”

“When?” Steve crossed his arms, frowning.

“Tomorrow morning.” Hopper sighs and Steve’s heart sinks. “Unfortunately for us, we’re close to the danger zone already. They want us packed up by tonight or…”

“Or?” Nancy prompts. Steve notices the worn expression she tries to mask, another shot at his chest. Losing Jonathan was sucking away her life force. And he did that to her.

“Or they’re removing us with force.” He says grimly, a few scattered mutters filling the silence. “They’ve tried keeping the monsters at bay but it’s a losing battle. I tried arguing, but they’re not looking for opinions. They’re doing a full sweep of the danger zone borders and moving everyone out. Our hands are tied.”

“What if we hide?” Dustin suggests, nodding wildly. His friends nod too, but with less conviction.

“Not that easy.” Hopper tightens his lips. “Our last search attempts for food have been failures. We won’t have enough rations to keep going even if we found a way to avoid the quarantine. The infestation is beyond our control without those gates. We’ll have to… give up.”

His eyes wander down to the map displayed on the table in front of him, staring at the crossed out circles of missed opportunities. The watergates, as the young boy had dubbed. And the pattern you found even when all hope felt lost.

“But we can’t find those gates if we’re not… here.” Dustin deflates as gravity pulls him back down to the suggestion in Hopper’s words. “We won’t find Y/n if we’re not here.”

“We can’t find her anyway.” Robin mutters, folding her arms tighter against her chest. Steve sends a curious look her way, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. He understands why she must be so bitter, losing her best friend like that- her only friend, as she had reminded him before. But he didn’t expect her to be this cold, even if it’s taking longer to find you than anticipated.

“I’m going to give the search one more shot.” Hopper announces, running a hand down his face. He clearly hadn’t slept, tone too low, his body slumping against the table as he fought against exhaustion. “If there are no rations left for us, we’ll have to pack up and leave with the rest of them. I can lead the search if no one wants to-”

“I’ll do it.” Steve steps forward, surprised expressions adorning everyone’s faces. Steve hadn’t left the house since they lost Jonathan, and he had made no suggestion until now that he was ready to do that.

“Kid-” Hopper begins with a sigh, but Steve shakes his head.

“It’s supposed to be my turn anyway.” She shrugs, ignoring his bubbling fits of anxiety growing in his chest. “No point sending too many people out in case it is a lost cause.”

“You can’t go alone.” He responds, brows furrowed. He knew better than to argue with him when they were running out of time. “That’s the rule.”

Steve mentally sighs. Who would want to go with him? The last time he led a mission, he fucked it all up.

“I’ll go.”

He grits his teeth. Great.

Billy emerges from the shadowed corner he had watched from, smirking at Steve as he approaches the table.

“I’ve been out there more than anyone, I know how to get into the stores undetected.” He practically boasts. Steve wanted to groan, a sickly feeling in his stomach when Hopper agrees without reservation. Does he know what Billy did to them last year?

“That’s settled then. You two head off when you’re ready. I think… I think I’m gonna head back up and keep searching.” The last part was mumbled under his breath as Hopper leaves the table and trudges back up the stairs. Steve stares almost mournfully after him. He was in so much pain and, even so, he would never show it.

Like father, like daughter.

“Ready when you are, buttercup.” Billy grins, folding his arms.

Steve bit his tongue, glancing over at a punchable face if he ever saw one. “Sure.”

He starts searching for a bag when a hand is thrust into his view, the very object hanging from their fingers.

“Take mine.” Nancy offers, and he takes it with a timid smile.

Since the mission, Nancy has barely uttered 5 words to him. Well, 7 now, which Steve thinks he should be grateful for. After all, if it had been Nancy searching for Jonathan, if it had been you caught in the crossfires of shapeshifters because Nancy wasn’t focused, would he have ever talked to her again?

“Thanks.” He says, and she walks away without so much as a second glance, heading for the staircase. She’s been more adamant on spending time with Will than he has been lately.

“Good luck.” Dustin calls when he reaches the door, Billy behind him.

“Don’t need it.” Billy responds, and Dustin purses his lips.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” He mutters and Billy frowns.

“What did you say?” He growls.

“I said, break a leg!” Dustin throws two thumbs up, grinning.

“And an arm.” Max whispers, and Lucas stifles his giggles.

“Whatever.” Billy swings open the door and steps out without so much as a goodbye. Although, Steve wondered who he’d be needing to pay his farewells too. The only person who seems to have ever shown interest in his care was, well, you.

“I’ll see you later.” Steve smiles at Dustin, the boy throwing out a salute that made him smile.

Even if Steve was stuck with his worst enemy, at least he felt like he was finally contributing something. Something Dustin could be proud of.

Maybe even something that could help find you.

This was a terrible idea.

They were an hour into their search and had been attacked twice. Once by a stray demodog, another by an infected – or rather, a demoperson as Dustin reminded them at every opportunity. Steve thought calling them infected felt more humane, even if a little on-the-nose. After all, they weren’t born like that.

On both attacks, it was made painstakingly clear that Billy didn’t care if Steve lived or died.

“What the hell, man?” Steve pants, planting his boot on the demodog’s back as he pulled his bat free from its flesh.

Billy was leant against a tree, arms folded as he watched with an amused grin. He had stayed that way even when Steve was struggling against the surprise attack. The demodogs were becoming more frequent, which could only mean a pack was nearby.

“You couldn’t have helped?!” Steve stresses, glaring at him.

Billy only shrugs, looping his shotgun back onto his shoulder. “We only shoot for emergencies, right? Don’t wanna alert the whole freak town that we’re here.”

“Right.” Steve grits his teeth, adjusting his backpack. “You always have an excuse, huh?”

“It’s called having a brain, pretty boy.” Billy smirks, nodding to his left. “This way should be clear. It’ll lead us straight past the Radio Shack and to the General Store. We didn’t make it this far last time so maybe we’ll get lucky.”

He doesn’t wait for Steve’s approval, gripping the strap of the shotgun and heading back down the road. Steve considered letting him go by himself, see how amusing he finds it when no one is helping him. But then he remembered he wasn’t an asshole, so he takes a breath and follows him.

When Steve saw the Radio Shack building, his whole body felt like it was in fight or flight. It looked so similar.

It was like he was still in the Upside Down, the vines coiling around the structure like a bad memory. It was tainted, his memory. Because as he looked at something that should feel terrifying, something that should make his heart beat out of his chest and wash a wave of dread over his head, he was utterly fixated by the idea that you could be in there, on the other side, waiting for him to find you.

“Harrington.” Billy snaps him out of his trance. Steve shakes his head. He felt like he was going crazy.

But what if he wasn’t? What if he was right? If he squinted his eyes, he could just force the image of someone walking around in there, a shadow that looked like yours. Maybe...

“She won’t be there.”

Steve pauses. He looks beside him but Billy isn’t standing there. He was stood just outside of the building, looking in.

“What?” Steve frowns. He doesn’t think he’s seen him look so… forlorn.

“Y/n.” He says softly, meeting Steve’s eyes and walking away from the store. “She would have answered the radio calls by now.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s dead.” Steve replies, shoulders tensing.

“Didn’t say that.” He shrugs, tilting his head. “But none of us really know. Apart from you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re the last one to see her before you’re conveniently safe on the other side.” He clicks his tongue. “I overheard Hopper talking to the Byers mom when you got back. He said you were muttering something the entire way home. Something about monsters.”

“Probably.” Steve shrugs, swallowing his nerves. “It wasn’t easy getting to the motel. We almost didn’t make it.”

“Almost.” Billy scoffs, chuckling darkly. “Tell me, Harrington… Why didn’t Y/n cross the gate with you?”

Steve shakes his head. “I-”

“You just said you almost didn’t make it. So did she almost not make it?”

“We got separated.” He says, gripping his bat tightly. “I watched the gate close before she made it through. She’s alive.”

Billy narrows his eyes, assessing the way Steve is trying not to react to his empty suggestions. He isn’t giving up on his story, and even Billy can tell Steve truly believes you’re still alive.

“Look, if you’re done being an asshole, how about we find some food so our friends don’t starve to death.”

“Your friends.” Billy corrects. “And don’t think everyone is buying your little story. I know you’re hiding something from us.”

“Just forget it, man.” Steve was turning around now, clenching his jaw.

“Oh come on, you really expect me to believe you passed through the gate without making sure she was there first? You always had that fake chivalry act going for you, don’t tell me you gave it up just to save your own ass.” Billy sneers, walking closer to him. “No wonder everyone’s been avoiding you lately, you couldn’t even bring back the one person they give a shit about-”

“Shut up!” Steve yells at him, a white-knuckled grip on his bloodied bat, “I don’t need you reminding me of how I messed up, okay?! I relive that moment every fucking day of my life and it hurts every single time!”

Billy seems surprised for once, eyes drifting to the left. He follows his gaze, startled by his own hand holding his weapon as if ready for a strike. He unclenches his jaw, letting his arm rest back down by his side and backing away, choosing not to comment on his sudden display of intended violence.

“Does the chief know you’re in love with his daughter?”

He pauses for a moment, wondering if he should answer. He bites his tongue. It was none of his fucking business.

When they finally arrive at their destination, Steve had never seen the General Store so empty in his life.

It was usually filled with everything you could possibly want. Well, as much as a small town in Indiana could use, anyway. From food, to tools, to craft supplies, the place was always packed to the brim and seemingly never ran out of stock. But this time, it was cleaned out.

A few stray boxes of cardboard littered the floor, the shelves bare of any supplies they desperately needed. They’re usual strike of bad luck was a lightning bolt to their last chance of saving Hawkins.

“I’m gonna check the back.” Billy announces, charging to the back door. Steve didn’t bother going with him; he already knew he wouldn’t find anything.

He remembers the Upside Down in this moment. The concerning lack of any hunger or thirst never crossing your minds as you wandered from place to place, chasing a ghost that never existed. When he had left, it had all come crashing down on him like a wave of sickness, restricting him to his bed until he didn’t feel weak anymore. Physically, at least.

He wondered how you were right now. Were you scared? Were you safe? Had the virus continued spreading? He hated he couldn’t see or hear you, that you weren’t here to satisfy his anxiety. He even hated that he needed you so much, the girl he couldn’t stand a year ago and now the girl he couldn’t stand to lose.

Goosebumps start to line his skin, prickling at his arms. It was probably a breeze of cold air, but Steve had remembered Joyce’s tales of feeling her son’s presence when he was on the other side. He kept imagining it was you beside him, letting him know you were okay.

Steve looks out of the window, heart leaping into his throat as he catches his reflection. It wasn’t his. A pale face, hollow and scorched at the sides, glared back at him, a tilted head of curiousness. When Steve blinks, he sees himself again, startled brown eyes and a messy mane of hair, nothing like the man he saw before.

“Nothin’ out back.” Billy’s voice drones back into the room, a hand running through his mane of hair. “You find anything?”

“Uh…” Steve takes another glance at the window, wondering if he could catch sight of the ghost haunting him. But with his own face staring back, he had to assume his sleepless nights had caught up with him. “No. Nothing.”

“Fuck.” Billy kicks an empty packet with his boot. “I knew this would’ve been the first place to be emptied.”

Steve takes another look around. He takes note of the shelves, moving closer. Dust was settled on the surfaces, drawing lines around bare shapes of cleaner wood and metal. He runs his finger across the lighter spaces, nothing clinging to his skin.

“Only recently…” He mutters, but Billy picks up on it in the stark silence.

“You saying someone got here before us? Like right before us?”

“Look around. The place is spotless. The shelves might be dusty but there’s a clean space where stuff has been taken. It can’t have been more than a few days since someone else was here.”

“Huh.” Billy raises an eyebrow. “I guess we’re not the only ones camping out in the apocalypse.”

A shatter of glass echoed from outside the building, startling them into their fighting stances. Steve’s bat was clenched in his fists as soon as the peaceful silence was broken, and the shotgun had slid into Billy’s arms once the glass hit the floor. They both stared out of the murky windows, an intense concentration on their faces.

“We hit nightfall.” Steve grits his teeth, risking a look to Billy. The boy’s expression was that of the same, eyebrows furrowed. They shouldn’t have been here this long.

“Well, shit.” Billy starts backing up to the doors, eyes glued to the darkening sky. “I guess we better find camp for the night. Preferably somewhere I’m not gonna get eaten.”

“The library.” Steve sniffs, adjusting his posture to face his companion. “It’s the only building left with a solid structure. I say we barricade ourselves in for the night and move out as soon as we can.”

“Nice to see you can use your brain, Harrington.” Billy says, gently opening the door with his shoulder and peering out. “We’re clear.”

As they leave the store, Steve feels like someone is watching them, his eyes constantly glancing back to the Radio Shack until it was far out of sight, an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something didn’t feel right but, then again, it hadn’t felt right for a long time.

Before they had even reached the library on steady footing, a clash of lightning burns the night sky into a crimson red, thunder rolling through the dark clouds. Their quiet footsteps splashed into puddles of rain, wet soaking their clothes as a storm started to roll in. The change in weather was a curse and a blessing; it restricted their safety of escape, but heightened their chances of evading monsters. After all, how could they stalk their prey when every sense was overwhelmed by the fury of mother nature?

For once, Steve felt like he made the right call. The library was still standing tall, vines slithered up the sides but weren’t quite strong enough to break the stone. The inside was empty, a few bookcases fallen and pages scattered, no sign of life in sight.

“I’ll take first watch.” Steve says, propping himself up against the desk, bat laid across his lap.

Billy didn’t object, setting down his gear and adjusting the dusty chair pillows they had pulled from the study hall into a makeshift bed behind the counter. He didn’t utter a word when he laid down, and Steve’s head fell back against the wood. As it did, he noticed something etched into the side of the wood from the corner of his eye, twisting his body to glance at it. ‘Save us’, it said. He gulped. Considering how empty the place was, it seems like it was too late for whoever wrote that message.

His eyes return to staring down the double doors like the cabinets they had dragged over wouldn’t hold. They didn’t last time he was in this position. And this time he wasn’t sure there was a single closet he could hide himself in. He just had to make sure he kept his eyes open. If he kept his eyes open, nothing bad could happen.

He sat there staring at the doors for hours, fingers mindlessly tapping against the handle of his bat until Billy’s rough voice called out behind him, alerting him that his shift was over. Steve’s eyes were heavy before he had even swapped places with him, head resting against the firm fabric on the floor. He wasn’t sure he would sleep, but his body overpowered his mind, pulling his subconscious elsewhere...

“Hey, we can get out through the window. Wasn’t rocket science, but I’m still a genius.”

He turns back to look at you over his shoulder, smiling. You’re currently near the far corner, your back facing him. You don’t seem to have heard him, breathing in odd intervals as you stare down at your hands.

“Y/n.” He tries again, louder. Your head twitches. Steve releases the latch on the window, fear flooding his entire body. He slowly steps away from the window, his eyes permanently glued to the back of your head, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

Trying again, his voice cracks under the pressure of speaking your name like it would warp the vicious reality he was living in.

“Y/n?”

You snap your head to him, and the colour drains from his face.

“No…”

He lost you.

The world bled to grey as tears start trailing from his eyes, staring into yours. Except, they weren’t yours. They were darker, soulless. Black blood was dripping from your chin, staining your lips.

“Don’t do this.” He begs, unable to find the force to speak louder than a whisper. “Y/n, please. It’s not- I can’t hurt you. You know I can’t hurt you. Y/n...”

You snarled at him this time, your mannerisms unnerving. It wasn’t you anymore...

You suddenly lunge at him and he instinctively dives for his bag, rolling away from your attack in the last second. He unzips it, staring down. He couldn’t do this.

Snarls and hisses spit from your mouth as you scramble up from the floor, blinking rapidly as you search in the dark.

Click.

Your whole body snaps to him in one sharp movement. With a shaking hand, he stares directly into your eyes.

“Y/n, please.” He sobs, “Please, you have to be in there.”

Not even the mournful pressure against his chest felt as heavy as the gun in his hand, tears rolling down his face.

“It’s me.” He tries again, hoping his voice could break you free from the virus. “It’s me. Steve. Remember?”

He should have known hope was never his friend. A voice completely alien to you rips out a screech from your throat, and hell comes to bludgeon him with the worst it had to offer.

Steve watches in horror as the skin starts peeling from your face, tearing it into pieces like a flower and its petals. Like a demogorgon.

It was too late. You weren’t coming back to him.

You run at him, sharp teeth bared, mind forever gone.

Steve’s eyes shut and he pulls the trigger, a sob echoing past his lips when the sound of your body hitting the floor fills the basement with regret. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, holding his breath.

His hands are shaking, heartbeat bursting into his eardrums. Steve starts to realise it’s a dream, that he had already lived this moment, that none of it had ever been real. It’s not real…

Even with his nerves on fire, he lowers the gun, hands feeling lighter the longer he remembers this never happened. He can open his eyes. He can force the image of your smiling face into his dream. He can make this nightmare disappear.

He opens his eyes.

And stares into the milky white pupils of a scorched face.

“Find her”

Steve jolts himself awake, blinking against the sudden light blaring through the windows. His heart was thumping out of his chest, the image of the ghost’s eyes burned into his brain. But it wasn’t the dream that startled him out of his sleep.

He hears Billy yelling, his instinct reaching for the bat at his side before it suddenly swoops out of view and a figure blocks his exit. When he turns his head to the looming shadow, his breath hitches, leaning back against the desk.

He wasn’t particularly fond of being greeted with a spear to his face.

It was held by someone in a mask, a brief flashback to his time in the tunnels suddenly thrown into his mind. The air, the kids had expressed. That was before any of them knew it wasn’t toxic. He took a quick glance to his side, noting the person currently pointing a matching spear at Billy, too, his shotgun kicked far out of his reach.

It was two against two. They could take them.

The door from the study opens and two more people walk out, discussing something under their breaths. His heart drops, jaw clenched in silent desperation. Fuck. He should have known nothing was ever easy.

When the others get closer, a new reason for his despair came to light, eyebrows furrowed when one of the voices droned on and on about their ‘key observation’.

He recognised that voice.

“Holy shit.” They laugh, pulling off their mask. Steve feels his stomach twist. “As I live and breathe, is that you, Harrington?”

Steve blinks. “Tommy?”

Lo and behold, Tommy Hagan stood in front of Steve with that bastard smile on his face and a dim light in his eyes. His hair had grown out to now brush against his shoulders, a faint smudge of dirt outlining where his goggles had been resting against his face. His clothes weren’t unusual to his high school attire, but it was covered in grime and faint smudges of blood. It was very clear that he had, much to Steve’s silent disappointment, survived the apocalypse. And he wasn’t alone.

“Wait, did you say Harrington?” The person beside him questions, head recoiling. It was a girl’s voice, sweet enough but hoarse around the edges, as if she hadn’t been drinking enough water. She turns her head to Steve before pausing. “You said he died.”

“He did!” Tommy exclaims, but the girl simply extends her arm in his direction as evidence that he was, in fact, not dead. “Okay, so I thought he died. Not my fault I got bad intel.”

The girl sighs, ready to argue.

“Oh my god, who cares if he’s dead or not, what the hell are we gonna do?” Another female voice, this time it sounded a little more mature. She currently had her spear pointed at Billy’s chest, the boy’s face twisting with some sort of humiliation at the realisation a girl had managed to disarm him. “And for fuck’s sake, put your mask back on, do you want to get ill?!”

“The air’s safe.” Steve finds himself speaking, all heads turning to him. “I mean, it’s not natural at all but it doesn’t make you sick. Getting bit makes you sick, is what I mean. If you’re, uh, talking about getting infected and stuff.”

“Are we really going to stand here all day?” She turns to the last person in the room, ignoring Steve and waiting for an answer.

This person had their spear hovering in front of Steve’s face, the pole shaking slightly as if they had never done this before. He doesn’t suppose they would have; they were just regular teens in a small town before the apocalypse started. Everyone had to adapt.

“I say we just spear them and get the hell out of here.” Tommy suggests and the girl beside him gasps. Steve, however, wasn’t so surprised. “What?”

“We can’t kill them. We’ve never killed anyone.”

“Fine, let’s just knock them out.”

“Shut up, Tommy, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” The other girl chimes in, and Steve could almost laugh. Even in an end of world situation, nobody wanted to be around Tommy H.

“I don’t-” Tommy huffs, shaking his head. “Who the hell saved you from a demon attack, huh?”

“And who got you new clothes when you shit yourself from the demon attack?” She retorts, the last words Steve manages to catch before they’re in a full blown argument.

“Hey!”

The person in front of him finally spoke, lowering their spear and stepping back. A male voice had ordered from behind the mask and, as he turned to his friends, Steve noticed a few stray curls peaking out from the collar of his jacket.

“No one is killing anyone, and we’re definitely not leaving them here.” He says, and the others seem to listen. He was their leader, Steve realised, and his word seemed to be final. The boy turns to him, tilting his head. “Are you serious about the air? It’s not lethal?”

“I wouldn’t be alive if it was.” Steve replies, and the boy sighs. He nods to the others, and they all lower their weapons.

“Sorry about this, we thought you were here to steal our stuff.” The boy apologises.

“I’m guessing you’re the ones that raided the store.” Steve says, accepting the hand extended to him and pulls himself back onto his feet.

“We gotta eat.” Tommy states, turning his head and widening his eyes. “Woah, Billy-boy! I almost didn’t recognise you, what with the whole being beaten by a girl thing.”

“Shut it.” Billy snaps, and the girl in question laughs.

“If it helps, you didn’t make it easy.” She offers before reaching behind her head to untie her mask, letting it fall into her hand and pushing her goggles to her head. “I’m Heather, by the way. I think we’ve met.”

Billy’s eyebrow raises, but he simply nods, walking over to retrieve his shotgun before any more of his dignity left.

“That’s Chrissy.” Heather introduces the other girl, her mask and goggles also secured around her neck now. Steve thinks he saw her in school before, but she was definitely younger, her wide eyes holding an innocence Steve hadn’t had for a long time.

The boy beside him also strips himself of his face coverings, resting the goggles in his messy mane of curled brown hair and smirking at the surprised look on Steve’s face. He throws his spear into his other hand, extending his free glove as an introduction that Steve most certainly didn’t need.

“And I’m Eddie.” He grins, relishing the reveal. “Although, you already knew that. Right, King Steve?”

Chapter Twenty One: Friends Or Foes, Part II coming soon...

[A/N: *once again in an aloneinthehellfire fic, eddie munson enters the arena*]

taglist: @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .

@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .

@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady . @pansexualhoor .

@kitdjarin1 . @chiliwhore .

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things reader insert #gates of hell #steve x reader #steve harrington imagine #st2 #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #apocalypse au #stranger things au #stranger things fanfic

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userlando · 2 years ago

Text

✧･ﾟ 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐬

simon ‘ghost’ riley x female!reader [3.3k] summary ⤍ your boyfriend slept horribly on a good day, and hardly closed his eyes on a bad day. warnings ⤍ 18+ (mdni) explicit language & smut (handjob), mentions of ptsd/war/military, mentions of nightmares and death. a/n ⤍ it’s my birthday so here’s my gift to u. simon riley u have my heart <3

You don’t know what pulls you out of your sleep - whether it’s a forgotten dream or your subconscious - but you jerk out of it all the same. Sleep clouds your vision, blurring it and it takes you a moment to blink and take in your surroundings in the darkness. The covers tucked tightly over your naked shoulders fall when you shift into a sitting position, supporting your weight on a wobbly arm against the rigid mattress.

There’s a slight ache in your back that you choose to ignore. Your boyfriend slept badly on a good day, and he hardly closed his eyes on the bad days. If a rigid mattress helped him get even an ounce of sleep, then you’d endure whatever you had to.

At the thought of him, you turned your head to find his spot on the bed empty. Your fingers touched the sheets, finding it cold and barely slept on. You’d gone to bed together, but he must’ve gotten up the second you dozed to sleep. He was good at that, slipping off unseen without alerting anyone. It was his job after all.

You shed the covers off your body, shivering slightly at the frosty bite of the air and you hurried to close the window that you’d left ajar. It had gone cold overnight and you wasted no time to find a pair of sweatpants to pull up your legs.

It was silent in the house, almost eerily so, and you fought the sudden need to turn back and crawl into bed as soon as you reached the dark hallways. It was ironic that you were scared of the dark you were, considering how you were living with someone whose call sign name went by Ghost of all things. Who thrived in darkness and used it to his advantage. A ghost.

Simon was almost hard to miss, tucked away in a corner of the appointed gym room and lifting dumbbells like they were the lightest things he’d ever touched. Your eyes tracked the movements of his lifts, taking in the swell of his arms as they strained and the straight line of his back. It almost startled you when he turned his head and looked straight at you from the corner of his eyes. It shouldn’t have surprised you how aware he was of his surroundings and you took a moment to calm your sudden racing heart before you stepped further into the room.

“Hi.” You greeted him quietly, wrapping your arms around yourself.

You knew not to ask too many questions, because you already knew the answers to them. Are you okay? No, he wasn’t. Why aren’t you sleeping? Because he couldn’t and working out was one of his many ways to shed those nightmares plaguing his brilliant mind.

Your boyfriend grunted as he lifted the dumbbells for one more rep, setting them down next to his feet. His eyes looked weary, tired from lack of sleep and troubled from whatever was weighing on his mind. It wasn’t an unusual expression he donned, but it made you sad all the same.

“Did I wake you?” He asked, voice rough.

You took another step toward him, shaking your head in the negative and watching his eyes flit to the tips of your toes - almost like was watching where you were heading. His legs separated just a tiny inch, but it was an invitation if you’d ever seen one. You wasted no time to close the distance between you two, stepping into the space between his thighs. He welcomed you without any words being said, arms circling your hips and closing the remaining distance between the two of you.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” You asked, though you knew the answer. Your hands found his hair, sliding your fingers through and touching the damp strands gently. “We could put a film on and have a little cuddle.”

You couldn’t help but notice how the man in your arms leaned his head against your stomach, just like he always did when you were sitting on your sofa watching the telly, or when he’d had a particularly bad night and you stayed up with him. You knew that it was a tactic to hide himself, shield his face from your observing eyes so you wouldn’t read it or see the emotion he never hid well in his eyes. It didn’t mean that you didn’t appreciate it though, considering how he’d shut himself off completely at the beginning of your relationship. It was a tough road, but you’d gotten there eventually.

“‘m not done.” He murmured against the fabric of your sweater. “You can go back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.”

A minute meant until the sun rose on the horizon and the light found its way through your curtains. You couldn’t have that.

“Hey,” you tugged at his hair, gently enough for him to look up at you; Blinking his blue eyes, looking innocent as ever. “I can sit here and watch you.”

He didn’t react when you pulled yourself out of his embrace, taking big, theatrical step back and raising your arms out by your sides with a smile. It was your poor attempt at making his lips twitch into one of his rare smiles, and all you got in return was a slight arch of his eyebrow that shouldn’t have looked as attractive as it did.

“What? I’m not even tired.”

Your insistence was proved wrong when a yawn crept up out of nowhere, and you hurriedly tried to hide it behind your hand even though it was too late.

“Okay, maybe a little.” You lamented when your boyfriend narrowed his eyes at your obvious lie.

“Alright pet, let’s get back to bed.” He pushed himself up onto his legs, his hulking six foot something form looking particularly menacing in the dim room.

You reached your hand out, not wanting to grab him without his consent and he immediately took you up on your offer by sliding his hand into yours. It almost made you grin like a fool and you bit the inside of your cheek, opting to guide him out of the room and back to your bedroom instead.

The room wasn’t as chilly as you’d left it, and you felt your body yearn for the bed at the sight of it. Just when you were about to close the distance, Simon pulled his hand out of yours and it made you look back at him questioningly.

“Just need to clean myself up.” He explained and you nodded.

He left the room to seek out the bathroom. You watched silently before turning back to your bed and slipping in. Instead of taking your spot on the right side of the mattress, you plopped yourself in the middle and shoved your feet under the covers to keep them from going cold.

And then the waiting game began.

It took a moment for Simon to come back from his shower, but you waited patiently. Your eyes were just starting to droop when the screech of the shower knob echoed from down the hall. The pour of the shower stopped, and you didn’t have to wait long until your boyfriend came walking back in.

He stopped at the sight of you and you could see the gears in his head turn. How he noticed you sleeping smack dab in the middle of the bed, your feet shoved under the covers and your hands hidden in the sleeves of your sweater. You would’ve missed it if you blinked. Simon’s lips twitched into one of his smiles, the ones he’d reserved for you, and you only.

“Cold?” He asked, yanking a drawer open to rummage through it for clothes.

You hummed, watching him dress himself with more ease than a lot of people. “It’s freezing. Need someone to warm me up.”

It almost felt like an award when his lips transformed into a smile, dimple deepening the side of his cheek adorably. It wasn’t a full blown smile, but your stomach twisted at the sight of it anyway. He finished getting dressed, draping the wet towel over the back of a rocking chair in the corner before he plucked a pair of fuzzy socks from a different drawer.

Your heart beat its way into your throat when you realized what he was doing; Tracking his movements when he sat down on the bed by your feet and gently fished them out from the cocoon of the covers. His eyes were soft, mouth set into a straight line like they always did when he got particularly focused on a task. The task right now? Pulling the fuzzy socks over your bare, cold feet.

“Thank you.” Your voice sounded choked up even to your own ears, but his soft side never failed to bring tears to your eyes and butterflies to your stomach.

He glanced up at the sound of your voice, wrapping a hand around your calf and giving it a squeeze. His way of saying you’re welcome. You raised your arms and waited for him to scoot up the bed and into your embrace. He grunted as he situated himself right up against your side, one leg thrown over yours and his arms tightly wrapped around your torso. You knew that he probably heard the sound of your heart beating unnaturally fast, but he didn’t say anything about it as he laid his head against your chest.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You asked quietly.

He shifted against your side.

“Nothing you haven’t heard already.” He replied.

It was true, probably. From a traumatic childhood to the horrors he saw when he was deployed, there wasn’t much Simon Riley hadn’t experienced in his lifetime. Hearing about the things he’d been through as a wee child had almost brought on a panic attack on your side, because no one deserved to grow up in the environment he had and your boyfriend deserved the world and everything beyond it.

You squeezed him closer to you at the thought of a dirty blond haired boy, scared out of his wits and lonely in a house that never felt like a home to him. The scent of his shampoo grounded you for a moment and you buried your nose into his wet hair.

“I’m alright, love.” He spoke after a moment, most likely picking up on your breathing and stuttering heart. No one was as attuned to you as him.

“I know, I just love you a lot.”

There was no mistaking the intake of breath at your words. It was clear to you that he had a hard time hearing those words directed at him, and it had taken some time for him to believe them when you spoke them. He’d been a hard man to crack, and he still is. There were so many things you still didn’t know about him, and you were too afraid to ask. Afraid of what his answers might be.

“I love you, too.” His voice sounded ragged, tight.

Any moment now, and he’d be pulling himself away from your embrace. You respected it, how he sometimes did that when he felt overstimulated or got way too into his head to pull him out. But it had been a long week and you were craving his closeness more than you wanted to let on.

So, he didn’t protest when your fingers found his sharp jaw, pushing slightly to tilt his head up to look at you. His eyebrows were knit, pupils blown out and he looked like a man on the verge of getting sucked right back into the black hole. In a moment of slight panic, you leaned down and closed the small distance between you two, pushing your lips onto his. He barely responded at first and for a moment you feared that you’d misread his emotions and was just about to pull away when he shifted his body to face yours. His lips responding to yours made you sigh on relief through your nose, opening your mouth to his insistent one and kissing him deeper.

The low rumble in his throat made you grip him harder, letting him straddle you without putting any real weight on your body. But you craved it, craved his warmth and weight and everything he had and wanted to offer.

No words were spoken as you kissed and kissed, and kissed. Your lips turned raw, swollen and you wanted more. He didn’t resist when you somehow managed to flip him over, albeit a little clumsily. He let you straddle his thighs, hands finding your face and neck to hold as he tasted your tongue.

His hands had been through enough, shed more blood than you liked to think about and killed people in combat. But you had never felt as safe as you did when he touched you like this.

The urge to show him how much you loved him became too big, too great to keep inside anymore.

There was a question in his eyes when you pulled back a little, eyebrows drawing together when your hands made quick work of pulling at his sweatpants and locating the hem of his underwear. You could see his hands reaching out to presumably grab you from the corners of your eyes, but he stopped himself in the last second and folded his hands into fists instead. You flickered your gaze up to his eyes, finding him staring at you.

“Is this okay?” You asked, halting your movements entirely. He nodded after a second of contemplation and you bent down to kiss him. “Words, Simon.”

“Yeah.” He rasped out, breath hitting your smiling lips. “‘s good.”

You didn’t waste more time to pull his pants and underwear down enough to fish his cock out, finding it half-hard and heavy in your hand. The weight of it made you squirm in his lap, turning your head to nip at the stubbled skin of his jaw.

Simon was a big guy, chunk and muscles all around. He filled out his clothes well and all those sleepless nights allowed him to work on his body and stamina. He didn’t go out very often, but there was no mistaking people’s stares and gaped mouths when he walked by them and you couldn’t blame them. Although you often glared at those who rudely stared until they had the decency to look embarrassed and turn their heads.

Your boyfriend being a big man also meant he was packing heavily in his nether region, thick and long enough to reach spots inside of you that you didn’t know were possible. You had half a mind to tug your own sweats off and sink onto him but you held off, knowing that what Simon needed first and foremost was relief. He just needed to be taken care of, and all you craved from him right now was him.

You made sure to have a good grip on him, not too tight and not too loose, before you started jerking him off to get him in the mood. Judging by by the way he was panting against your ear, it wouldn’t take long to get him there. His hands scrambled to find something to grip, settling on cupping your face and bringing you to his lips.

It was much filthier than your other kisses you’d shared tonight, teeth nipping and his nose pressing to your cheek as he found comfort in your lips. It didn’t take long for his cock to fill out, making it harder to have a better grip on him so you brought a hand up between you to lick a thick stripe on the palm before grabbing him again.

He hissed, eyes closing in a tight squeeze when you reached the tip of him. He was wet, precum beading on his head and you swiped your thumb over it; Using it as lube to make touching him way smoother and pleasurable for him.

One of Simon’s hands raked through your hair, finding a good grip on it and tugging until you let out a moan against his lips. He pulled you off further to look at your face, almost like he needed to know what you were thinking and if you were feeling the same type of pleasure that he was.

“You feel so good in my hand,” you nodded at his searching gaze, hand squeezing just a tad bit tighter around him. “Warm and heavy.”

He grunted in response, letting go of your hair so you could bury your face in the crook of his neck. You placed small, sucking kisses to the sensitive skin there and scraped your teeth teasingly right beneath his earlobe because you knew how much he loved it. He’d go absolutely feral for the tiniest prick of pain.

It had the desired effect on him, hips humping up and sliding his cock further into your fist, making him hiss and hands grab at your back. He was close, it was evident in how he started chanting your name lowly in your ear. The reverent way his hands were scrambling to grab a hold of you and pull you closer.

“I’m -“ he shuddered when you picked up speed, jerking him off and bringing your free hand down to touch at his balls. “Fuck.”

The shudder in his voice had you soaking but you put all your focus on making him feel good, needing him to come and growl in your ear the way he always did.

“Come on, baby,” you whispered against his neck, nuzzling your nose up to his cheek and giving it a chaste kiss. “I got you.”

It was like that’s what he was waiting to hear, hips bucking up and body stiffening like he’d been electrocuted before his cock started spitting against your palm. It got on his clothes and yours, but you couldn’t care less when he finally let his mouth drop open and he moaned from deep in his gut. You slowed your pace gradually as he shuddered through the last of his orgasm, pressing little kisses to his cheeks and jaw until he made a noise at the back of his throat.

You let go of him, knowing that any more and he’d become overstimulated and that wasn’t your intention for tonight. All you needed was for his body to relax enough to get some type of sleep before the sun rose outside and night became morning. One look at his lax body and you knew you’d succeeded, kissing his slack mouth before sitting up gingerly.

It was warm, and you huffed in discomfort before shrugging your sweatshirt off and flinging it to the side somewhere. You’d need to do some laundry tomorrow, making a mental note in your head.

“D’ya need - ?” He started to ask, hands gesturing tiredly to your body but you cut him off with a firm head shake.

“Not tonight.”

He nodded once, lips twitching into a small smile and you leaned down to kiss it. Nothing suited him better than a smile, and you’d made it your mission to tell him that once every day.

There were very few words exchanged as you took off his soiled shirt and got him a chilled water bottle from the refrigerator. You left the door wide open like Simon needed and double checked so the latch was shut on the windows before crawling underneath the covers where your boyfriend was waiting.

You turned on your side, as did he, and shared a small secret smile.

“Thank you, pet.” He whispered and you stretched a finger out to touch his stubble, right where his dimple remained hidden.

“Always.” You said.

And you meant it.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon riley fic #simon riley one shot #task force 141 fic #call of duty modern warfare 2

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