#this is the first year i’ve felt comfortable making posts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

street-smarts00 · 2 months ago

Text

in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's been on the fence with his feelings for you. Due to his past traumas he’s decided to keep his feelings hidden. Until you’re caught in a dangerous situation at work

WC: 3.5 k

A/N: I am SO SORRY this took so long. I’ve been sitting on this for two months because I was being a perfectionist and had writer's block. Thank you so much to the person who requested this idea and I hope ya’ll like it! beta read by @whats-yesterday00

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Protective!spencer, Friends to lovers, age gap (25 and idk 33 or 34), during season 9 (sadly no post prison Reid, I refuse to watch the show after Derek & Hotch leave), Maeve is implied

Warnings!: mentions of murder, stalking, gunshot wounds, hostage situation and incorrect info about hostage situation cause Idk I'm not in the FBI

Everyone knew Spencer Reid had a soft spot for you. Well, everyone except for you.

Since the moment you met you’ve been on his mind.

“Do you know how old she is?”

“No, how old is she?”

“25!” Penelope squeaked before being shushed by Rossi.

“Wow, she’s gotta be the youngest person to ever be in the BAU. Well, second to genius over here,” JJ commented while pointing to Reid.

“That’s if she gets the job,” Morgan added.

They were all crowded around the desks in front of Hotch’s office. The blinds were cracked and they could just barely make out the woman seated across from their boss for an interview.

Due to the increase in caseload after Alex joined, Hotch made the request to add an additional member of the team. After interviewing a few people that didn’t pan out, he heard quite a bit about you from your supervisor saying how well you’ve done with the FBI and you’d be an exceptional fit for the team.

Then of course Penelope looked up everyone who was interviewing with Hotch. You being her most recent victim.

“How long has she been with the FBI?” Alex questioned.

“Three years,” Penelope answered

“What? Did she join right after college?”

“Not right away. She graduated early and got experience with law enforcement first.”

Spencer sat at his desk quietly while everyone was peering into Hotch’s office. Not to say he wasn’t nosy as well. You were already behind the blinds when he arrived for work.

“Oh they’re shaking hands! That has to be a good sign,” Penelope cheered.

Morgan turned to the window, “It’s definitely not a bad one.”

Her eyes widened before loudly whispering, “Oh no they’re leaving. Disperse.”

She scurried off in her heels towards Derek’s desk while he followed behind with a grin. JJ, and Rossi averted their eyes from Hotch’s office and found Alex’s desk far more interesting.

All while Spencer’s attention was brought to the woman led down the stairs by his boss. It felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw how beautiful you were. He was brought back to earth as Hotch introduced you to the rest of the team.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he gestured to the man sitting at his desk.

You offered him a small wave and a kind smile, “Nice to meet you.”

It became quite obvious you two would get along very well. From very early on conversation flowed incredibly well between the two of you. There were very few people that he felt were easy to talk to because of his niche interests and the way he would ramble spitting facts left and right.

But he never had to worry about saying the wrong thing or talking too much with you. You often were a content listener or you would even match his passion on certain subjects. Most were topics Spencer already knew about.

When you first met Spencer you didn’t know the Dr in his name meant he held 3 PhD’s or that he was quite literally a genius.

So you were often telling stories or facts you found interesting that he already knew. In fact, almost every “fun fact” you brought up, he knew about already.

But he never interrupted you. He always was listening intently to what you had to say. Like he was hearing about it for the first time.

At some point you learned of his eidetic memory and how vast his knowledge was. It was during a case where you found out and mentioned it to him.

“Reid, remember when we were at the harbor and I mentioned that thing about sharks?” You hesitated, “did you know that already?”

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted.

You partially deflated suddenly feeling that the whole tangent you went on was pointless. “Why did you let me go on and on if you already knew?”

His eyes softened, “because I wanted to hear you talk about it.”

That was when his feelings started to peek through. As the months went on it only grew and grew. And you were none the wiser.

To the average person, it might not seem like much. Perhaps you were just good friends. But to a team of profilers (and best friends) it was painfully obvious.

It was almost painful the way he looked at you with a longing in his eyes. Or when his gaze immediately turned to you to catch your reaction or smile.

It was obvious by the way he found any excuse to bring you up in conversation. Or how in conversation with you he would mirror your mannerisms and lean closer to you.

As well as the things he remembered about you or the little things he did for you. Like the countless coffee cups he bought for you from his favorite coffee shop before work. And when he saw you struggling to find something or open something he was always right there to help.

Spencer Reid had feelings for you. Feelings so deep that he couldn’t pull the roots out even if he tried.

He didn’t know what to do with his feelings exactly. He hadn’t felt this strongly for someone since … well for a while. He was terrified of history repeating itself.

He couldn't lose you. He’d seen first hand what this job did to him, what it did to Hotch. Their loved ones ripped away from them too soon.

So for now at least, he kept his feelings to himself.

Well, until your last case.

The BAU was called in on a case that just turned serial. They found the unsub to be a man named Mark, who started killing because his girlfriend cheated on him. The first two victims reminded him of the man she cheated with. When that didn’t satisfy him, he hunted down and killed the other man.

Now the team and SWAT was stationed outside a bus that Mark was holding hostage. He stalked his ex-girlfriend and tracked down the new city bus she took.

The officers couldn’t get a clear shot of him because of where he was standing and he kept using the passengers as shields. Rossi was currently on the phone with him trying to make negotiation terms and get some of the people off the bus. Mark however was incredibly stubborn and didn’t want to let his leverage go.

So Rossi asked about the children on the bus and if Mark would be willing to let them off. They were met with silence on the other end of the phone, contrary to his previous behavior where he loved to hear himself talk.

After a short pause the phone spoke. “I’ll only send out the kids if you send in an agent.”

Rossi shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “Are there any other circumstances you’re willing to send out the children for?” he asked.

“Nope,” he said with a pop at the end of the word.

A look of concern was quickly exchanged between Rossi and Hotch. While their faces didn’t reveal much, their eyes spoke volumes.

“How about this,” the unsub continued. “I’ll send out their moms too.”

Rossi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the eagerness to comply from the criminal. “You’ll send out the children and their mothers if we send in one of our agents?”

“I promise.”

Rossi returned his eyes to Hotch who stood rigid and tall with his arms folded. He was met with an approving nod before returning to the call.

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.”

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked.

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

There was a tension that quietly branched out between the agents listening to the phone call.

“Why do you want a woman?” Rossi asked, clearly changing the dialogue used.

“I’m losing too many ladies sending out these moms. I want one back,” he replied with a cockiness to his voice.

Ross confirmed they could send in a female agent. Almost immediately after the unsub hung up, you volunteered to be the agent going on the bus.

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer’s head shot in your direction. “No you're not.” His voice was laced with concern and a hint of demand.

“Reid-”

“He specifically asked for a woman. We don’t know what he’s planning, he’s devolving.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk to make sure those kids are safe,” You defended yourself.

You turned to your boss waiting for his thoughts. Hotch knew you’d been exposed to enough high tension scenarios to know what you were doing. But just like any member of his team, he silently hesitated, worrying for your safety.

He took a breath before meeting your eyes again. “Send her in.”

Right before you were led to the bus, Hotch took off the holster on his ankle and handed it to you. “Some extra protection in case something happens.” You couldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but you saw it clear as day in his eyes.

You made your way to the bus and saw through the window Mark holding a gun to the driver and telling him to open the door. You stepped on and the doors closed quickly behind you. The unsub took a long look at you, panning up and down.

“Well how about that. Aren’t you a beauty? He said with a cheeky grin.

You tried your hardest not to look disgusted with him. Instead you kept your composure and spoke with courage and a confident demeanor.

“You this flirty with all your hostages?” you asked plainly.

As he gazed down at your legs his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He bent down and with the gun in his hand, pushed away the bottom of your pants leg. When he saw the gun in the holster, he tsked.

“You always carry this much dead weight on you?”

He stood back up and put his hand out, “hand it over, I told them no weapons.”

You reluctantly took off Hotch’s holster and placed it in the unsubs hand. Your one line of defense was gone.

The longer you were on the bus, the more anxious Spencer got. He knew you were an exceptional profiler, and you had enough experience and skill to handle yourself in situations like this.

But that couldn’t stop the ache in his stomach or the fact that his heart rate could power a car by now.

He stood closer to the bus now to get a clearer view of the windows. They managed to successfully get the children and moms off and to safety, but you weren’t safe. Spencer figured you were trying to negotiate with the unsub, but that was going nowhere. This was confirmed when Rossi tried calling him again but every call was ignored.

This unsub was stubborn as hell. He knows he trapped himself, but didn’t want to back down. At least he didn’t want to go quietly.

Spencer was talking with the rest of the team trying to devise a plan when the gunshots were fired. The team immediately ran back to the cacophony on the bus.

More shots were fired, he didn’t know where from. He didn’t care.

He just needed to get to you.

When he got a decent view through one of the windows that hadn’t shattered he saw you. Your hand over arm in pain but still standing in front of the civilians to protect them. The unsub stalking over to you, gun in hand and smacking you over the head with it. You slammed against the chairs and fell to the floor.

Spencer's face paled. He swore he was going to throw up.

Through the fog of his mind Spencer saw Morgan escorting Mark off the bus, his hands now behind his back in cuffs.

He rushed past them, clambering through the door and up the stairs to get to you, calling your name.

“Reid?” he heard your small tired voice through the crowd.

He followed it to you, laying on the ground struggling to open your eyes and clutching your left arm.

He crouched down to your level with a gentle hand on your uninjured arm.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” he comforted.

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

His eyes softened, “I know. I think you might have a concussion, you need to go to the hospital.”

You slowly started to fade out of consciousness. Spencer’s heart dropped and his hand moved from your arm to your face.

“No no no no stay with me okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

Your eyes stopped struggling to stay open and finally made their close. His other hand rushed to your pulse point as he called for a medic.

Time seemed to stand still while Spencer sat next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up. He couldn’t leave your side. He didn’t want to.

You were okay. You were laying in the bed in front of him. But of course in his mind he ran through all the possible scenarios of how things could’ve gone worse, how things could’ve gone better. What would’ve happened if you didn’t have your gun taken away, or if the unsub got angry that you tried to bring a gun in. What if he didn’t lose his cool and start firing. What if you never went inside in the first place.

And with all of those possible scenarios, the same thought plagued him.

He was wrong.

Before he was too scarred from past traumas to reveal just how much you meant to him. Not wanting to repeat the past and lose yet another person he loved cared for.

But now, after seeing you in danger right in front of him, now he was terrified at the thought of you never knowing. He was now more scared you would never know how much he loved the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. How he thought the sound of your voice could cure any ailment he had. How he admired your strength and desire to protect others. How you could light up anyone's mood by just being you. How he could listen to you for hours, even if you were lecturing him on things he’d known like the back of his hand.

To him it was a whole new experience hearing it from you.

Spencer was pulled from his thoughts as you stirred awake. He saw your eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights ahead. He quickly got up to dim the lights for you.

When he returned to his seat you smiled at him, “hi.”

“Hi,” he smiled back.

“How are you feeling?”

You sighed. “Like shit,” you complained with a hint of humor.

“The doctor said you have a minor head injury, bruised ribs, and the shot to your arm thankfully didn’t break any bones.”

“Fun,” you said sarcastically.

A moment of silence passes between you two. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. How do you casually tell your friend and coworker you have a crush on them?

There is no casual way.

“You called me sweetheart,” you broke the silence.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

You fidget with the blanket, “earlier, when I passed out on the bus. You called me sweetheart.”

He searches his mind for the memories of the day. When he finds the memory he realizes in the heat of the moment the term of endearment slipped out.

He wasn’t aware you heard it.

“I did,” he confirmed as his ears flushed.

“Why?” you asked curiously.

He didn’t know how to tell you that he’s wanted to call you that for weeks now. So instead he settled with-

“It just … felt right.”

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response.

“If I crossed the line-“

“No. Of course not,” you interrupted with a comforting voice.

The corners of your mouth lifted and cheeks dusted pink. “I thought it was sweet. You don’t normally say stuff like that.”

His heart warmed at your confession and a smile spread on his face.

“You thought me calling you sweetheart was sweet?” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Your laughter was cut short by a sharp pain in your abdomen. You bit down on your lip and gripped the side of the bed in pain.

The reality that you were injured on the job was rushing back to him.

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit.

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected.

“The entire time you were on that bus I was sick to my stomach. Terrified that something bad was gonna happen and it did,” he started to ramble.

You leaned closer to him. ”But I’m okay Reid.”

“You still got hurt. He shot you for christ sake!” his voice raising in pitch and volume.

“Reid-”

“He lashed out at you! You could’ve died!”

“Spencer,” you said firmly, pulling his attention towards you.

He never heard you say his name before. No matter how many times he said you could call him Spencer, you still called him Reid. Hearing his name fall from your lips was like the consistency of honey.

You placed your hands on his face caressing his cheek. His golden eyes meet yours.

“I’m alright. I’m still here,” you consoled.

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “It’s important.”

You nodded your head, signaling for him to continue. He gently grabbed your wrists and brought your hands in his. He took a deep breath before he decided to spill the thing that had been eating away at his heart.

“I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Almost as long as you’ve been at the BAU,” he started.

With your hands in his he started tracing his thumb over your knuckles.

“If we don’t have work I count down the days until I can see you again. When I do see you I desperately want to see you smile, see you happy. And if I’m the one that causes that smile, it makes my whole day. That’s why I never interrupted when you talked about something I already knew. The way your face lit up when you talked with such passion was the highlight of my day.”

“For months I was scared of my feelings and I kept them to myself. I was too scared to admit how much I liked you because I-” his hold on your hands tightened.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone. This job takes so much from us; I never wanted it to take you.”

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“Today I realized it would be more painful if I went the rest of my life not telling you, than having even a fraction of a moment with you.”

A moment of silence danced between you two. Your head reeling from his confession, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your bones. Your palms sweaty from holding onto Spencers, but still neither of you let go.

The silence was deafening, plaguing him.

“Please … say something,” he begged.

Your lash line was collecting tears that you simultaneously tried blinking away. Your eyes found his tie less intimidating than his gaze.

“I never thought you would like me back,” you said with a soft tone.

Spencer's cheeks turned red as his heart started melting. “I do.”

You brought your eyes back to his. That precious smile on his face was infectious.

“Listen,” you squeezed his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. So you have as much time with me as you want.”

Spencer's eyes softened at your words. He raised your hands and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles.

The two of you were too lost in eachother to notice the footsteps towards the room.

“Hey, I found some Jello for her if she-” Alex abruptly stopped once she noticed what she walked into.

You both awkwardly pulled your hands away from each other; you fiddling with the hospital blanket, him rubbing his palms on his slacks.

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly.

“Much,” you answered, still a bit flustered.

“Good, good to hear,” She tried not to sound too smug, but the small smile on her face said otherwise.

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand.

“I’m gonna leave this here,” she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left.

Once she was gone you quietly giggled and mumbled “oh my god,” under your breath.

“You know, she kept teasing me asking when I was going to ask you out. And don’t even get me started on Morgan,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed. “Did everyone else know but me?”

He pressed his lips in a thin line, “pretty much.”

“I must be a shitty profiler,” you half joked.

“Absolutely not,” he said in the most comforting voice. He brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear.

“You’re an amazing profiler.”

You smiled that smile he loved so much. The one where you couldn’t hide your joy and your nose crinkled.

“So, how do you think you’ll spend all those moments with me?” you inquired with a bit of a teasing tone.

“Doing anything sweetheart,” he answered seriously. He looked at you with awe written all over your face. “I'm ready for anything with you.”

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

3K notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 18 days ago

Text

🎉 Thank You for 10k+ Followers!! 🎉

A big thank you goes out to @cozymochi for this beautiful celebratory commissioned artwork for this major milestone ✨ It really captures the scope of all the content that had been put out in the last 4+ years—both in terms of official Twst materials and on this blog! I think it’s very fitting that we hit this milestone in the month of Halloween too (I just held off on posting this til the month after); it’s Twst’s biggest holiday of the year, so it’s twice the cause for celebration!!

A lot has happened over the course of my time in this fandom. I’ve written many things of course, but I’ve also had many other exciting opportunities! I’ve been interviewed for a paper, met many cool people from all over the world, attended Twst meetups + events, collaborated with other talented creators, received kind gifts, contributed to various fandom projects, and finished telling the origins of my Twst OC. This blog has been with me through a lot of major changes and difficult hurdles in my life too—it’s really been an anchor for me, a comforting and safe space for me to be creative or analytical whenever I want to be.

When I first started this blog as a very casual hobby in summer of 2020, I never even considered that it would balloon to this extent. It still doesn’t feel totally real to me 😭 I don’t usually fixate on numbers (they make me anxious), but looking back on it, 10k is a LOT, and 4 years is a long time. To put that in perspective, if we were in Twisted Wonderland for 4 years then all of the students we’ve come to know and love would have graduated by now. That’s crazy to me. We’ve come so far as a group.

I feel that a large part of fandom is the community that comes with it. I would have found it so challenging to stick with Twst had I not had so many great people keeping me engaged with it. I’d now like to take a moment to thank those folks. Keeping in line with the idea of “4 years”, think of these as little messages scrawled in a yearbook. I also have a blog event planned to celebrate! More on that later.

Please note that I’ve used pseudonyms for most of the following people, as I’d like to respect their privacy (I’m very private myself) + not all of them are comfortable with being explicitly named or tagged to a large crowd. You’ll know who you are if you see yourself on here.

Without further ado:

MSS — Thank you for being the first Twst space I felt truly a part of. It’s still the place I consider my fandom “home” beyond this blog.

April — Thank you for making MSS as a place for us to share! We’re tsunderes in solidarity.

Drinking Knight — The banners wouldn’t exist without your help. Thanks for getting the ball rolling on those; I’d like to think that I’m a little more confident in designing new ones myself now, but you were the start of it all. Your endless enthusiasm for the most insane otome boys, drinks, and bullying (positive) others is truly an inspiration.

Q. Opinionated — Can’t count the number of times you ran tech support for me 💀 Thanks so much for being patient and willing to laugh at a stupid situation. I WILL grip you (escape is not an option) 🤲

Dad with his Printer — Why are you so cheeky My unofficial proofreader and fact checker. Still treasure the teeny J word and coffin magnets you sent, and, even more valuable than those, the bad dad jokes/puns advice and wisdom you give. Wishing you luck on your art adventure.

A. Cider — An unexpected friend I met very late into the fandom and happened to run into irl by total coincidence. Funny how life works. Your shitposts are great, and I appreciate having a like-minded person to talk with about the J words and story critiques. I’d also like to thank you for the many little doodles you’ve made; I know you’re very busy and have a wife to tend to at home but I appreciate that you still make time for friends.

Hana — Extroverted pink-haired magical girl representation. Your bubbly love for Disney, Diasomnia, singing, and (yes) angst lights up the entire room. Maybe you’re not too confident with yourself are right now, but I know you’ll find your way.

Swan — For being quick on the uptake and giving me the heads up about various things! We may not talk much one-on-one, but I’m thinking of you and enjoy seeing you pitch into the conversation. You’re still banned for L*ona posting though/j

Ly — My secret French twin/j Thanks for being my cultural + equine advisor and a voice of (salty) reason. Never shut up about your hyperfixations! You’re a real one.

Oys — Enabler + encourager of my Yan!Sil delusions. Sorry for making your blood pressure spike every time we talk about our food takes. But hey, at least we get a good laugh out of it :))

Mac and Bean — For being my inspirations. Bean, you have such atmospheric writing. I hope my writing style can be just as magical as yours. Mac, it was your blog that first got me into starting my own Twst writing. You never stop being so, so funny also I blame you 120% for the L*ona rot.

Peaches and Cream — To my local Twst friends, thanks for keeping me company even through the hard times. Peaches, happy to be your local Twst dealer anytime. Cream, thanks for hooking me up with new books.

Salt and Flora — I don’t know where you vanished to, but the sea brought you back to me on its tides. I’m so happy we could meet again. Salt, you’re so talented at crochet and design work; get your coin 😂 Flora, you’re the sweetest person ever. Literally cottagecore personified, even in your art.

Piano — We don’t always see eye to eye, but thank you for being my serial debater and showing me new perspectives. Your open-minded theories and analyses are such fun. And, of course, it’s always hilarious to think about how we accidentally (?) swapped oshis 🤡 You’re a star.

The Anklebiter — For having the most unhinged jokes and ideas. Seriously, THE most unhinged. I never do any of the crazy things you suggest but I’m always really entertained from just hearing them.

Te, Mi, and Ro — Thanks for organizing local events and giving me an excuse to touch grass. It’s a lot of hard work and you guys manage to pull it off every time! Mi, I was flattered to have you reach out to me to help a little with the Tweel cupsleeve event. Happy to help anytime! Te, I remember you were cosplaying as Kalim when we first met and I kept thinking about how perfectly suited you are for the role. You were very friendly and made such an effort to include everyone in the event even when I was Idia-ing in the corner. To this day, you continue to spontaneously introduce me to new people 😂 Thanks for getting me put of my comfort zone. Ro, I didn’t think we’d meet again like this. Small world! You’re learning and improving the big events. Here’s hoping to many more!

Vic — For being Ace Trappola when very few others would. It’s refreshing to have someone tell it like it is. I wish I could be as bold and as honest as you are sometimes. You have such a big heart when it comes to the characters you love; it makes me want to adore them like you do too 🫶

Kana — For being so sweet and patient. You helped me through so many rough patches and have also contributed a lot to the look of the blog. It’s so fun gushing with you about magical girls and pretty boys, sharing our favorite shows and movies… I feel as though I’ve made a lifelong friend.

Zari — Thank you for charms and art book, big fan of your stuff 😭 So honored to have worked with you on projects too. I hope to see a lot more of your Yuu and other OCs around, I love following them ^^

Lala — You understand, encourage, and validate my weird tastes in fictional men 💕 Really admire your sense of fashion and stylish nails too. Whenever I have my shrimp apron on, I think of you.

Arisu — No longer in the Twst fandom but integral in the earliest days. Wherever you are now, I wish you nothing but happiness.

P-san — You’re a lifesaver!! Thank you so much for helping me find cute little outfits and accessories for my plushies… They are forever grateful to be properly clothed.

V, Fa, Fe, Ray, Rea, Sonny, Glimmer Group, and Incognito Crew — Thanks for being so supportive of my hyperfixation on Disney villain anime boys, even if you guys have NO clue what I’m rambling about half of the time. To V specifically 🫵 I am NOT a cat boy kisser

Mango — I didn’t know I wanted you in my life until you showed up uninvited one day and chewed your way into my heart.

Azul Ashengrotto — For being the character that first convinced me into giving this game a shot. The Little Mermaid was something I always held so dear to me, so it almost seems like destiny that you’d be the one to drag me down into Twst. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart for that, even if my feelings have changed since then.

Rook Hunt — For being there when I needed to laugh a little. It’s scary to glance over my shoulder sometimes, but you make it easier to smile as I look back.

Rollo Flamme — For letting me know that having negative feelings is normal and human, even if we don’t always cope with them in the healthiest of ways. Let’s reflect and be better together!

Leona Kingscholar — For showing me that change and personal growth is, in fact, possible. Th-This doesn’t mean I like you or anything though, so get off your high horse—

Jade Leech — For taking my hand and guiding me back on the path when I got lost in the dark. Whatever crimes you may commit in your free time, I forgive you/j

Miss Raven Crowley — The little black bird who could, the blog muse. I made you on a whim and look at where you are now… You went from a background character to the main character of your own story. So proud of you, my child 😭

Asset compilers, fan artists, fanfic writers, fan translators, cosplayers, merch makers, editors, plushie pic takers, video essayists, theorizers, etc. — You’re all so important to keeping the fandom alive, especially during periods of official content drought. It wouldn’t be feasible for me to list out all of the content creators I enjoy (chjsbsksks and it honestly might be awkward since I haven’t directly interacted with most of them), but I hope that this message still reaches you and finds you well. Keep doing your thing; I love seeing the work you put out ^^

Anyone and everyone that I’ve ever commissioned and/or received fan works from — I appreciate that you took time and energy out of your day to create something for me. There’s so much talent in the Twst fandom and I’m honored that you would dedicate some of that to a silly little birb.

You, the Readers — For supporting this blog and and what I do here! You’re an important part of my journey too.

Thank you!! Here’s to a future unknown and a page unwritten.

- The Writing Raven

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #milestone #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Raven Crowley #not my work #Leona Kingscholar #Jade Leech #commissioned art #Azul Ashengrotto #Rook Hunt

520 notes · View notes

sinofwriting · 12 days ago

Text

Sex Positive - Charles Leclerc

Words: 2,470 Summary: Y/N goes on a podcast to talk about one thing and one thing only, sex. Note(s): NSFW just because this is just all sex talk, no actual sex, but it is the main topic of discussion. Part SMAU

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Y/N Y/L/N”

She smiles at the sound of her name, adjusting her headphones a bit until they finally seem to sit snug on her head.

“Welcome to the sex positive podcast.”

“Thank you for having me!”

“Thank you for coming on!” Elaine says. “When I reached out, I had hoped you would come on, but was shocked when you said yes.”

“I had to come on. We’ve known each other now for like two years?” Elaine nods at her words. “And yet despite that and this podcast doing so well, which by the way congrats on the new milestone. 250k is insane, and your profession we’ve never once talked about sex.”

“We have not.” Elaine laughs. “Probably because we also run into each other at events and dinners. Not the best place for me to ask how you feel about sex.”

“Well, I should tell you, I am coming on here to actually talk about how much I hate sex.” She says, ending her sentence with an eye roll, as she adjusts how she’s sitting, not even noticing her cardigan slip.

“Oh, yeah.” Elaine nods. “You hate sex.” She then nods to her left shoulder and her eyes drop and she lets out a laugh, seeing the love bites now exposed from the cardigan slipping.

“Like I said, I hate it.” She laughs.

“How is your relationship with sex? I mean, what has your experience been with it?”

She considers for a moment, “I’d say I have a good relationship with sex. It was never a topic that was shied away from when I was younger. My parents both gave me the talk, they made sure that I felt safe and comfortable to talk to them about it. They also never shied away from talking about how they had sex before they were adults, so if I did, they understood. All they asked was that I was safe.”

“And you think that’s helped?”

“Of course.” She nods. “I mean, I was sixteen when I had sex for the first time. Which was before all my friends and after that I was the one my girl friends came to for condoms and advice.”

“Was it good?”

She makes a face, “I mean, I think it was as good as two sixteen-year-olds having sex for the first time can be. A little awkward, some fumbling, finishing so quick.”

Elaine laughs, “Y’know that probably is as good as it can get.”

“Yeah.” She laughs.

“Were you like okay, I had sex this first time, I’ve experienced it, I’m good, or was it like me where you wanted to explore more.”

“Oh, I wanted to explore more. I didn’t have sex again for, I think like another two years. But I did so much self exploring. Just trying to see what I liked, what I was interested in, what I wasn’t interested in.”

“Porn?”

“Yes, there was quite a large amount of porn being watched. I read a lot of adult novels, guides, blogs, really just anything I could get my hands on.”

Elaine nods, tucking a leg underneath herself as she adjusts the microphone to be a little closer. “And this is something I’m curious about, how do you feel about porn? It’s something a lot of people are divided on, a lot of women especially.”

“I like porn. I enjoy it. Either just watching for pleasure or for research.” And she puts the last word in air quotes. “And please people listening or watching, if you see something you like in porn or are interested in, and this applies if you are reading something as well, look it up, read some guides and blog posts about it before doing it yourself. Just be safe.”

“Oh, please be safe. We have our own blog where we talk about different kinks, positions, various things and I urge you, along with everyone else who works on this podcast, to be safe with yourself and others.” Elaine says, addressing the camera before looking back at her. “So, you like porn.”

“Yes. Obviously not all porn is good, there are bad studios, there are overdone tropes, issues with the industry itself with it continuing to promote certain things because it earns them so much money. But I do enjoy it. It’s an industry that is always going to get criticized and hated and it deserves some of those criticisms without a doubt.”

“As a sex therapist, I do try to veer my clients away from porn, most of the time. And that’s mainly due to the acting of it. But it has its place in helping you learn and educate yourself. My issue is when people only look at porn and don’t look into things further.”

“Yeah, a hundred percent. It’s so important to not just take away things from porn but to take things away and expand on what you saw.” She nods.

“And of course I have to ask, what do you yourself like to watch in porn?”

“Hmm.” She thinks. “I think it depends on my mood. I think what I normally go for is something a little more rough. I’ve never really enjoyed watching people have like slow, gentle sex, not unless there’s something else there like overstimulation.”

“So, you like it rough?” Elaine asks.

She laughs, “Yes. It wasn’t something I had ever tried out before though until my current partner.”

“Really?”

She nods, “Really! I can admit that with my current partner, Charles, is where I’ve done a lot of exploring with someone else sexually. We’ve tried out many things.”

“Anything you guys didn’t like?”

“We don’t care for titles or honorifics.”

“You are crushing some dreams with that statement.”

“I know.” She laughs, well aware of the many tweets and things about wanting to call Charles daddy or sir. But it was just something that didn’t work for them in bed. The most was sometimes as a tease, she’d call him Mr. Leclerc and that was mainly to wind him up, not because the word itself was a turn on.

“What about things you’ve both enjoyed?”

“Oh, where to begin.” She teases, the both of them laughing. “Roleplay is one, bondage, edging, overstimulation. And I don’t consider this sex, but it is something we both enjoy a lot, cock warming.”

“That is quite the list.”

“Oh, just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Talk me through some of it. Bondage?”

“Yes. This was something we both had come into the relationship having never done before and wanting to do. We have the actual like rope you're supposed to use for when we do it, though sometimes we have used other things.”

Elaine shakes her head, grinning. “Of course you two have. I feel like if I see you two together, you’re always attached.”

“Pretty much. We both enjoy touch and Charles, despite all the interest in his personal life and how much already is exposed to the public, doesn't mind holding my hand or hugging or kissing me while in public.”

“Was that a worry of yours?” Elaine asks.

“Absolutely.” She nods, fingers interlacing. “I knew he’d at least, when I went to my first race, that he’d hold my hand, but I figured that might be it. And I didn’t want to bring it up since me going to Baku was so last minute for the both of us.”

“I’ve seen photos from that race and I would have never guessed that it was a last minute decision or that you two hadn’t talked about that yet.”

“Yeah, I got on a plane and was there by 11pm on Wednesday night, and the plane tickets had gotten bought maybe six hours before the plane took off. Charles had to send a photo of my ID to the front desk and had a spare key for me waiting since he had to be asleep already.”

“And then the next day, I mean you guys were very loved up.”

She grins, “we very much were. I think Charles knew I was nervous. We hadn’t officially been spotted together and he’s such a comforting person, very calming, so it was easy to not feel anxious with him holding me and pressing a kiss to my cheek every few minutes as y’know a bunch of people were taking photos of me and I’m being introduced to about a hundred people.”

“Which is overwhelming to say the least.”

“So overwhelming.” She nods.

“Though you might’ve liked that, since you’ve brought up overstimulation a few times.”

Her hands come up to hide her face, laughing into them, before they fall back into her lap. “I’d apologize, but I like what I like.”

“So it’s you being overstimulated.”

“Oh, absolutely. I find it very enjoyable.”

“I’ve never actually really talked about overstimulation, what is that you like about it? That you find to be enjoyable?”

“It’s the near constant feeling of too much, it’s so much pleasure just back to back, and everything depending on how you're doing it, can feel just like raw? And exposed? And you don’t think you can orgasm one more time, you just can’t again, but then you can and it feels at least in my experience just so good and then you do it again and again, and every time the pleasure of it just washing over you is even more and more and it’s the only thing you can focus on, everything else just fades away.”

“You make me want to try it.” Elaine laughs.

—

Charles’ head immediately perks up when he hears the hotel door open. “Chérie! How was the podcast?”

She smiles, setting her bag down, before moving over to the couch where Charles is sitting and happily sitting in his lap before Charles can pull her down. “It was good.” She finally says after kissing him.

He hums, “How good?”

She thinks, playfully humming as her fingers run through his hair. “Very good. I think your fans will want to kill me and so will Ferrari.”

He frowns, arms tightening around her. “Ferrari knows that you are allowed to do as you’d like. It is not like with,” He stops himself.

“I know, Charles.” She soothes. “But, they will be upset with me considering me talking about my sex life is talking about your sex life.”

He huffs, obviously not liking it, but he hopes that the podcast will do well, be received well, so at least Ferrari will be forced to accept it because fans like it.

“Did you mention me?”

Her eyebrow raises, “No. I want on a podcast to talk about my sex life so you obviously didn’t come up.”

He pouts at the tease and she can’t resist pressing a kiss to his pouty lips.

“Yes, I mentioned you. Multiple times and by name.”

He hums, moving his hands under her cardigan and top. “What did you say?”

“That we’ve done a lot of things together. That we like certain things.”

When she had accepted the invite it was only after a long talk with Charles, one she had to force, to go over what she could and couldn’t mention. Charles had been fine with her mentioning whatever she wanted. Uncaring that it would be out for the world to see, his colleagues, friends, and even family if for some reason they decided to click on it. He had stuck by that after their talk, though had asked her to keep most of the details of their roleplay and their love of rough sex to a minimum.

And it had been easy to not talk about what kind of roleplay they did and while rough sex had been mentioned twice, they were brief, just establishing her love of it.

“It did make me want to roleplay our favorite thing again.”

His eyes light up at her words.

It wasn’t often something they did, their favorite roleplay scenario, not when it required her to be in a certain headspace to really work, but she wants and craves it so much.

“You want to be my innocent little girl?” His voice has a bit of rasp, his fingers resting on her back, stretching out.

“Yes.” She breathes.

He leans forward, giving her a hungry kiss, his and her last chance to lose control, before pulling away. “Go get ready for me, bébé. I’ll find a place to have dinner.”

---

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula x reader #sins fics

933 notes · View notes

ennabear · 2 months ago

Text

− ⌗ CATALINA ISLAND ⊹∿

cw: catalina!abby/mamabear!abby/loser!abby/sub!abby, yara mention (i’m sorry… we miss u babygirl), slight themes of homophobia but nothing too heavy, post-pillars timeline so abby has short hair and no muscles, abby falls first but reader falls harder, tribbing eventually… 🙏 (not proofread)

wc: 6.0k

quite vividly does abby remember the first time she saw you. bright overhead lights stabbed through her vision, gloved fingers and cold metal tools poked and prodded at her extremely burnt, extremely sensitive skin. but not you, you were gentle with her. speaking in a hushed voice that comforted the dull ache crawling up her head, hands keeping their distance from her sore and aching body.

she felt at ease. for the first time in… months? years? decades? suddenly the weight of previous events didn’t seem so heavy. she felt lighter, calmer, unafraid. but maybe it was just the morphine making her feel this way, because she passed back out minutes after having this epiphany.

“abby…” the boy whispered. she didn’t hear it, too deep in her slumber to respond.

“abbyyyyyy, wake up.” he pleaded. nudging her sides and arms in an attempt to wake her. still, her rest was uninterrupted.

“ABBY!” he finally shouted, yanking her braid in despair.

“j’sus christ, lev, wha’ddyou want?” she yawned. one benefit of living out at sea was that there were never any threats out there. other than the occasional storm, they were completely safe, and abby could let her guard down for the first time in what felt like forever.

“come look at the stars with me.” he demanded, pointing to the front of the boat.

“are you serious?” abby asked, somewhat furious she got woken up for this, but could she blame him? his childlike wonder provided a refreshing new perspective. and as abby always said, lev used to live under a rock, so she was always happy to introduce him to new things, although his lack of general knowledge sometimes startled her.

“come on, please?” he added. “i’ve never seen them so bright before, pleaseee?”

abby huffed and got up, grabbing her blanket and taking it with her, already predicting lev would be shivering in an instant. and she was right. somehow, in the middle of the pacific ocean, the sun beating down on them for 12 hours a day, lev was always cold.

she took a seat on the deck next to him, wrapping the blanket around the two of them as they stared up into the sky. it was beautiful, she had to admit. it was hard to see the stars this clearly on land, and seeing the whole galaxy like this was such a treasure. it never stopped, no buildings or mountains concealing the sky, it was just pure space for miles.

they were silent for a while, lev looking up at the night sky with wide eyes, and abby still trying to shake the sleepiness from her mind.

“…abby?” lev asked after a while.

“yeah?” she responded.

“do you believe in a god?”

she debated this for a while. what a tricky question. did she want to believe? yes. 1,000%. but did she believe? … did she? does she? will she?

“i’m not sure.” she says. “no, i guess not.”

“i do. and i think that’s where yara is right now.”

oh. abby’s face falls, it’s always tough to think about lev’s sister. sure, she died a hero, but she shouldn’t have. she was so young, so strong, so determined, intelligent, kind, strategic, resilient. abby never knew her very well, but she replays the conversation she had with yara quite often. she wishes so badly she could’ve saved her, but at the end of the day it’s permanent. a script written in ink, a final decision.

if there is a god, i swear i’m gonna kill him she thinks.

“do you see that star?” lev asks, pointing up to an extra luminescent star twinkling brighter than the rest of them. “i think that’s her.” he continues. “and she’s always with us.”

abby huffs a laugh and stands, returning back to bed. “i don’t believe in all that.”

lev has no choice but to chase after her if he wants the warmth of the blanket back, so he does. “maybe your dad is up there too.” he states truthfully, climbing into bed next to her. her arms wrap around him as she settles back into slumber. “maybe,” she says. “or maybe he’s just gone.”

“do you ever miss him?” lev asks.

“every day. more than anything.” and suddenly she’s asleep again.

“abby?”

“abby?” …..

“ABBY!” the voice asks again, and suddenly she’s wide awake. she’s not on the boat with lev anymore, instead she’s… in a hospital? or an office? somewhere too bright that smells too much of disinfectant.

“it was just a dream,” you soothe, shushing her pained whimpers and cries. “you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

she looks over to you, one of the sweetest sights she’s ever seen. “i’ve seen you before.” she whispers.

you smile and pat her hands, abby is one of your favorite patients. being on narcotics for weeks makes for an easy client, all you really do is change her bandages and occasionally silence her night terrors. you’ve actually gotten to know her quite well from her… son? you still don’t know the full story on that, apparently she betrayed the entire washington liberation front to adopt him and his sister, and that she’s been a better caretaker to him than his biological mother ever has been. but you can see in her youthful features that she’s still young. too young to be a mother. and lev cringes at the thought of calling her mom.

“where am i?” she asks, voice gravelly from being asleep for so long.

“catalina island critical care unit.” you respond gently. “or, CICCU, but i don’t wanna confuse you with too many letters.”

“where’s lev?” she asks frantically, suddenly fully aware that she’s not in the same room as him right now.

“he’s okay. sleeping. it’s pretty late.”

“was i talking?” she asks, cringing at the thought of someone as perfect as you listening to her blabber in her sleep.

“no, not this time. but i always prefer your talking over your screaming.” you joke.

“what do i talk about?” she asks, although not sure she wants to hear the answer.

“lev mostly. sometimes others, usually ‘manny’ and ‘alice’.”

“oh.” she sighs. she feels so much better compared to the night she first saw you. was that when she arrived? whatever, she can’t remember anything other than you. her muscles aren’t sore anymore, her skin feels cooler and softer, finally.

“you should go back to sleep.” you say. “your body needs the rest, and i’m not really supposed to be talking to my patients anyways.”

she raises an eyebrow at this. “why’s that?”

“my social skills are no good, that’s why they put me on the night shift. i’m not sweet or gentle enough for daytime caretaking.”

blasphemy. you? not sweet or gentle? this is the first time in her whole life she’s felt truly comfortable, and it’s all because of you. she closes her eyes, willing herself to get more rest before she sees you again.

her daytime nurse fucking sucks. she’s an old lady with a scratchy voice, not deep and smooth like yours. and she’s mean. abby always catches her talking shit about other doctors at the hospital, and it’s not even normal stuff like gossip or personal experience and whatnot, she takes real jabs at the people in the community, coming for their looks and personalities. worst of all, the mean nurse hates you.

she always chatters on about how you can never do your job correctly, and apparently you’re wasting all of god’s honor by not being married yet. but it’s not until the mean nurse mentions “sleeping around with… females…” that she finally listens to what the mean nurse is saying, and she has a strong feeling she relates to you just fine.

abby sighs in relief when you walk in for your night shift. you catch this, giggling a little “what was that about?”

“i hate the other nurse.” she pouts, grimacing at the thought of seeing her again when dusk turns to dawn.

“who, dr. cosby?” you ask.

“yeah, if that’s her name.”

“i don’t like her either,” you admit. “but she’s the only one completely trained in full time caretaking.”

“do you have to work with her?” abby asks, growing slightly defensive over you. she’s gotten to know you over the past few days, too, and you’ve been able to fill in some of the gaps from the stories lev has told you.

“yeah, almost every day. she’s kinda like my boss since she’s training me, but she doesn’t pay me or anything… which kinda makes it worse. i feel like i deserve an extra paycheck for putting up with her.” you laugh.

abby still can’t get over your laugh, the sweet, deep giggles that seem to float out of you like bubbles. abby doesn’t realize this yet, but she has a huge crush on you.

“anyways, you’re supposed to be asleep, anderson.” you accuse, pointing a jokingly angry finger at her.

“yeah, yeah, i know.” she says, sighing deeply. “but i missed you, and i wanted to see you again after the mean nurse.”

“that’s sweet.” you start. “but if the mean nurse finds out you haven’t been sleeping because of me, i’m fired. and they’ll replace me with someone worse.”

abby laughs, pulling a pillow over her face to cover her giggles, and falls into another restful sleep after a few minutes.

she manages to survive a few more days with dr. cosby. or, the mean nurse, in the vocabulary the two of you share. the only thing that makes it bearable is knowing she’ll see you every night, and lev even visits her sometimes. tonight is different, though, because you don’t walk in at 9:00 pm when you’re regularly scheduled. dr. cosby does. abby groans audibly, she wishes she would’ve done it louder. well, she wishes she could scream in dr. cosby’s face, but she isn’t trying to get kicked out of the CICCU before she’s fully healed.

“usual nurse is out.” the mean nurse spits. ‘usual nurse’? so she can’t find the courtesy to learn your name?

“out where?” abby questions.

“on a… date.” she hisses.

oh shit, abby grins. a date with a woman i bet. dr. cosby isn’t happy about that.

and then it hits her.

oh shit… abby frowns. you’re on a date with someone else right now. you decided to spend the night with another woman, ditching your usual visits with abby. this hurts. her heart twists with jealousy, suddenly the room is spinning, and she has to turn and face the wall before dr. cosby can catch her weeping into her blanket like a little kid.

abby hasn’t seen you once since the night before your date. when the mean nurse comes back in the morning, she discharges abby and orders a soldier to escort her to the lodge she and lev are to share. so that’s it? she’s never gonna see you again? lev is out at school when she gets there, so abby has the whole place to herself until he gets back. she finds herself staring into the mirror for an unhealthy amount of time. christ, she looks different. her hair is short and choppy, although it’s gotten longer since she’s arrived. her muscles are almost completely gone. whatever the lack of training couldn’t remove, malnutrition withered away. she has scars all over her face and arms, her skin is still bumpy and blistered from the overexposure to the california sun. she looks… smaller? not tall and buff and scary anymore, but weak. fragile. she doesn’t look like abby. and that’s a terrifying thought.

she spends about an hour in the shower, scrubbing the hospital scent off of her skin and running her fingers through her short hair. she decides to spent the rest of the day orienting herself in this new space. she’s never lived in a real house before, and she feels like an alien trying to do so. lev finds her laying on the couch, studying the bumps and ridges in the ceiling.

“abby?” he calls from the doorway, slinging his backpack off of his shoulders. the poor kid almost cries when he sees her, out of excitement or fear, nobody knows. abby tries to pick him up as he throws himself at her body, but she can’t anymore. she doesn’t have the strength with how much she’s been weakening and how much lev has been growing. this crushes her even more, but she settles for a firm squeeze to the kid, and realizes how much her ribs do still hurt.

she doesn’t sleep well that night, it’s not the same without you. she misses your heavy voice lulling her to sleep and the euphoria she got from laughing with you. something deep and heavy settles in her stomach when she remembers you now spend your nights with someone else. she’s jealous. and she’s sad. overwhelmed from being in such a new place. and she misses you. and tonight when she sleeps, it’s dreamless and restless and leaves her even more exhausted.

you miss abby. you didn’t know the night you were gone would be the night she got discharged, and you wonder if this is a coincidence or if it’s some evil plan from dr. cosby. your date wasn’t even a date anyways. the girl you were meeting showed up to the diner, but left after a few minutes after saying she needed to freshen up. you saw her leave out of the back door. so you snacked on soggy fries and day-old fish until you got fed up and went home and cried into your pillow. was dr. cosby right? are you really not likable? to make matters worse, now that abby is gone you don’t have any more easy patients. you have to take care of a snappy old man who was in a boating accident. nobody can tell if he’s suffering from brain damage or if he’s just stupid, and it’s starting to drive you mad.

you miss abby. you miss watching her sleep, how her sweet face would contort into an expression of pure bliss as she finally had a peaceful dream, and how sometimes she would reach out and hold your hand for a few hours while she slept. she might be the only person on this whole island who likes you.

you two don't run into each other for about a month. the community you live in is small, but the whole island is divided into communities of about the same size. abby is sentenced to a desk job, something she'd never seen herself doing. she spends all day crunching numbers, scribbling things down on various documents and punching in even more symbols on her calculator. she's surprisingly good at it, her brain works efficiently and she's incredible at finding mistakes and working through them. lev teases her about becoming a nerd, but he's the one who voluntarily stays after school for tutoring, so she teases him right back.

you run into her right before one of your shifts, picking up a prescription from the pharmacy and dropping by her workplace to pick up some more documents. you freeze in your tracks when you see her, awkwardly blurting out an "abby! wow, uh... you look good."

and it's true. she looks better than good, she's glowing. her hair looks softer and fluffier now that it's not matted from the pillows, her skin is clearing up and restoring its natural color (which is a lot more peaceful than the burnt red it was), and she looks fuller. not nearly as big and muscular as she used to be, but she's started to gain some weight back and finally doesn't look tiny. abby notices you staring, taking in her new appearance. "thanks... so do you." she chuckles.

"i didn't know they cleared you to work." you stammer. actually, you didn't know anything about her ever since she was suddenly good to go, which you've decided is definitely dr. cosby's fault. so the two of you spend the rest of the night chatting and catching up with one another. she tells you about her job, her house, and how good lev is doing in school. you tell her about some of your newest patients, and when she asks about your date, you find pleasure in telling her that it was terrible. abby feels giddy after hearing this, not that she gets a kick out of your humiliation, but she's happy to know that you're single, and that you regret ditching her that night.

the time completely slips away from both of you, and before you know it you're an hour late for work. "shit!" you jump. "god, i'm sorry. i gotta go, i'm about to get fired!" you cry as you run down the hallway and out of the building. she laughs at this, tidying up her desk before clocking out and waking herself home. she sleeps very well that night, knowing that you're single and that you're willing to be late to work just to talk to her.

she greets you two days later with coffee outside of your office. "glad to see you didn't get fired." she jokes, you roll your eyes. "if i get written up one more time i'm done for." neither of your bosses are in today, so you finally have some peace to do your job without being yelled at. when you're not meeting with a patient, you let abby follow you around like a lost puppy, you notice how soft her hands have become when you grab them and tug her along next to you.

"thanks?" she mutters, cheeks sparkling with a pretty pink blush.

"oh, shit, i didn't mean to say that out loud." you cringe. "but it's true. they're very soft."

abby blushes impossibly more at this, so you like her hands? does that... mean anything? you're so forward with her it makes her a little dizzy, it's hard to keep up with your subtle flirtatious remarks when she can barely look at you without stuttering and tripping over herself. you're like a savior to her. you are her savior, if you didn't patch her up after her and lev had arrived, would she still be here? if she didn't get eaten alive by an infection she might've offed herself after the countless exhausting interactions with the mean nurse.

“how did you know how i take my coffee?” you ask suddenly. abby doesn’t know how to answer. well, she does, actually. but she’s too shy to say that sometimes she’d wake up and watch you while she was supposed to be sleeping. you’d place your coffee cup on her nightstand and flick on the lamp next to it, and then instantly stick your nose in a book. when she got done studying your face, she memorized the books you liked and the coffee you drank.

“if you’re stalking me, i won’t be upset.” you joke. abby laughs awkwardly, still calculating her answer in her mind.

“i dunno, i just know you, i guess.” she finally responds.

“fair, but now i feel bad because i don’t know how you take your coffee.” you frown. she chuckles, dismissing your concern.

“no, seriously. i feel like i barely know you, and i miss getting to know you ever since the mean nurse discharged you the night i was out.” you tell her. she can’t see where you’re going with this, so she just freezes and waits for you to make it obvious. “we should go out for coffee sometime. this weekend, maybe, if you’re free.”

are you asking her on a date? platonically or romantically? do you actually like her as much as she likes you? abby stares at the ground as she thinks about what to say again. “if you don’t want to, that’s okay.” you smile. “i won’t be offended.”

“i-” she starts, trying to speak deliberately as to not stumble over her words. “i do want to. that would be really great.”

you plant a kiss on her cheek as she turns to leave, heading to her own job instead of yours. she barely registers it, giggling and swatting you away before realizing that you kissed her. she halts her stroll when she finally processes it, reaching her fingers up to feel over the spot your lips pressed to. her cheeks turn beet red as she replays what happened, and fuck, she wants you to do it again. she debates running back into the hospital to beg for another kiss, but decides not to make a fool of herself. not today, at least.

her shift passes in what feels like forever. she wants to see you again, she wants it to be the weekend so badly. curse the calendar for deeming today a thursday, and curse your work schedule for not letting you go on a date with her now.

she clocks out excitedly as soon as her shift is over, practically jogging home to meet lev for dinner. they eat on the couch, watching some old dvd of a pre-breakout day cartoon. lev falls asleep as the show crawls on, so she has to face the disappointment of shaking him awake, wishing she still had the strength to pick him up. she watches as he waddles with all ten of his blankets to his bedroom, and then collects the dishes to scrub them off in the sink.

just as sleep is about to take her, she bolts awake with a great idea. shoving her shoes on, she jogs back out of the door, practically sprinting to the hospital to catch you before you clock in for the night. when you see her standing behind you, you jump backwards and yelp, almost knocking over a cart full of needles. “god, abby!” you curse. “you scared the shit outta me.”

“sorry…” she smiles sheepishly, a look you’ve grown to love.

“what are you doing here?” you question. “are you hurt?”

“no, i just wanted to see you. i couldn’t sleep, if that counts as an ailment.” she says, lying through her teeth. she was about to sleep soundly knowing your date was only in a few days.

“well, i’m glad to know you’re okay, but you really need to work on prioritizing your sleep.” you scold her, but you can’t help but melt at the dopey smile on her lips.

“yes, doctor.” she laughs, rolling her eyes. “are we still on for this weekend?”

“of course, if you’re not a zombie by the time we get to saturday.” you smile, nudging her with your elbow.

“alright, sorry,” she sighs theatrically. “i guess i’ll leave you alone now.”

“i’m sorry for kissing you on the cheek earlier.” you blurt out, although you probably should just let the moment be. “it was just… muscle memory i guess.”

“muscle memory?” she asks, dumbfounded.

“i dunno, sorry, it was definitely inappropriate. but you used to ask me for a small peck whenever i woke you up from your night terrors. i’d be surprised if you remember it, though. we had you on some pretty hefty meds.”

abby has always had trouble sleeping. as a kid, she’d have terrible nightmares that she couldn’t wake up from on her own. her dad would nudge her awake, and then soothe her back to sleep with a firm kiss on the cheek. it helped every time, and she slept like a baby knowing her dad would protect her. after he passed, the nightmares were more frequent, and there was no one to calm her down once she woke.

that must’ve been why she’d wake up screaming, eyes open yet unable to focus as you calmed her down to the best of your ability. you’d take her heart rate and blood pressure to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary, and then stroke her short hair while she fell back to sleep. she’d huff and kick for the first few minutes, and then reach out for your hand, guiding it to the apple of her cheek. you thought at first she wanted something cool against her burning skin, but once you moved your hand away, she demanded a kiss in a raspy and very delirious voice.

“no, it’s okay, really.” she assures you. “it’s a comfort thing i used to do with my dad. you don’t need to feel bad, i promise.”

“go to sleep, princess abby.” you demand again. “i’ll see you saturday.”

with a smirk, abby turns and walks back out the door she came in. she slips back through her front door as silently as she can, and falls asleep thinking about all the ways she’s embarrassed herself in front of you. how many more times can she do it? and how long until she cuts the shit and admits her feelings for you?

saturday comes quicker than abby would like. ever since that night, she couldn’t help but fret about your feelings toward her. did you really kiss her out of muscle memory, or did you genuinely want to? her heart warmed at the sweet gesture of you soothing her back to sleep on the nights her dreams were infiltrated with death and fear and abandonment, but did you do that with all of your patients?

she tried to ignore these thoughts as they came up, but it was nearly impossible to. she dressed herself in a beige sweater and a pair of jeans, tucking her hair behind her ears and accessorizing with a black hair clip. she looks gorgeous. it’s hard not to faint when you see her, the fluttering in your stomach keeping you on your feet.

the pair of you sit tucked away in a cafe booth, chatting away like time isn’t real. you’re surprised to learn that abby knows quite a bit about medicine, the knowledge coming from her father who was a doctor too. she tells you stories of her childhood, and you can see the resemblance between her and her dad, she treats lev just as well as her dad treated her. you don’t mention this, though, because you can tell she’s starting to tear up the more she talks about him.

when the conversation slows down, you decide to bite the bullet and ask her something that’s been on your mind. “abby? can i ask you something?”

“shoot.” she says.

“do you… like me?” you try. “i mean— i dunno. i’ve never really had friends before, not like you. i guess i just wanna know if you enjoy hanging out with me, or if you’re just doing this because i seem desperate.”

“of course i like you.” she affirms. “i’ve never met anyone as sweet or as gentle as you, and i’ve met a lot of people.”

“okay, cool. good. i like you too.” you say, reaching out to grab her hand that’s resting on the table. she smiles and squeezes your hand, looking deeply into your eyes.

“do you wanna get out of here?” you ask.

sand fills the holes in your shoes as the two of you stroll the beach hand in hand. abby still has that giddy feeling in her stomach, although she still can’t tell if you’re actually into her or if you just wanna be friends. you did mention just friends earlier, but you’re also holding her hand sweetly in yours.

you don’t know how to explain your feelings for abby. she’s such a sweet girl, and she’s a few years younger than you. you want her all to yourself, you want to take all of her pain and suffering away and start a family with her. you wanna run away with her and live in a small beach house together. but is that crazy? you’ve only known her for about four months at this point, how long is too long to wait? how long is too short? you don’t wanna overwhelm her, she just started a completely new life after escaping seattle where all of her friends and family were murdered in front of her. it’s obvious she’s still grieving, missing the family she created and the life she had.

when you reach the top of the hill, you sit and dangle your feet off of the mini cliff, looking out at the horizon painted in front of you. abby takes a seat next to you, wrapping both of her hands around yours. you smile at her, proud of how far she’s come ever since rolling in half-dead and practically fried. she looks human now, and she looks really… pretty.

“you flatter me too much.” she says with a shy smile.

you groan. jesus christ, you need to stop thinking out loud before it kills you.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to make things weird.” you cringe again.

“it’s not weird. i think you’re pretty too.”

your heart skips a beat at this. it’s too late, your habit of thinking out loud is about to kill you right now. because your lips are on abby’s and you’re kissing her with all of your might. her lips taste like honey and coffee, a sweet mix of flavors that you’ll crave for the rest of your life.

“is it weird that i just kissed my doctor?” she asks.

“i’m not your doctor. i’m the crazy person who’s job was to watch you sleep in case you had seizures or heart attacks.”

she giggles at this, leaning in to capture your lips in another sweet kiss. you both stay there until sunset, giggling and kissing and chatting like little kids in love.

to your dismay, you get up and leave as soon as the sunset fades, not wanting to be stranded at sea in pitch black darkness. abby walks you home, arm thrown over your shoulders. you frown when you reach your own cabin, not wanting to leave her. “can i see you tomorrow?” you ask, praying she’ll say yes.

“of course,” she says. “i’ll be here.”

it’s impossible for you to sleep after the incredible day you just had. you keep licking your lips in hope that the honey-coffee taste will still be lingering, but it’s not. tomorrow can’t come soon enough, and now you feel bad for teasing abby about her lack of sleep because you finally get it.

abby sleeps soundly tonight. all of her fears are dissolved floating away like ashes in the wind. she feels free. finally ready to start a new chapter of her life now that she’s escaped the tragedies from seattle and the torture from santa barbara.

you wake up bright and early the next morning, showering and cooking and cleaning and dressing yourself as efficiently as you can. the excitement of seeing her again fuels your motivation, but once your whole lodge is spotless, it’s hard to find something to do with your energy. you sigh in relief when abby knocks on your door ten minutes early, her brain must be in sync with yours.

as you open the door, you practically jump into her arms. she pulls you in for a big bear hug, seeming to have missed you just as much as you’ve missed her.

you have nothing planned, so you snack on a box of cookies while sitting in bed, staring out of the window that overlooks the ocean. it’s a gloomy day, but it’s nice to people watch and gossip about various things you’ve heard through the grapevine.

after a while you get tired, and abby lets you rest your head on her shoulder in case you wanna fall asleep. you don’t, though. no matter how heavy your eyelids get, you force yourself to enjoy every second that passes with her. well, there is something you wanna do with her, but you’re not too sure how she feels about it.

“abby? can i ask you another weird question?”

“always.” she laughs.

“do you wanna have sex with me?”

her heart thrums harder in her chest, and heat spreads from her cheeks to her ears.

“sorry, i shouldn’t ha—”

“yes.” she interrupts. “but, i— it’s been a while. i’m not very… i dunno…”

“if you don’t want to it’s fine.” you assure her. “it’s also fine if you wanna just lay there and let me do the work, i don’t mind.”

she nods at the second option, leaning back and throwing her shirt off while you do the same. her abdomen is less bloody and bruised than you remember, but you can still see her ribs and a few scars. she blushes when she catches you staring, leaning back timidly.

“don’t be nervous, abby. i’m a doctor, i’ve seen bodies. especially yours, and i think you’re beautiful.”

she blushes harder at this, but laughs and says “i thought you were a creepy nurse who watches people sleep, not a doctor.”

you giggle and shut her up with a kiss, reaching down to unbutton her jeans. “can i?” you ask.

“yes, please, fuck.”

as soon as you get her jeans down, you tug her boxers down too. sure you should wait, and it might be polite to engage in a little foreplay, but you’re craving her right now. her bush is curly in the center, right where is dripping wet, and she has a beautiful blonde happy trail that crawls all the way up to her belly button. she’s so hot you might need an oxygen tank.

“the quicker you stop staring and fuck me, the quicker we can get you that oxygen tank.” she laughs.

“oh god… i didn’t mean to say that. again.”

you tug your own underwear off and sit your cunt right on top of hers. abby intertwines her legs with yours, and the angle lets you slide across her perfectly. “jesus christ.” she moans, currently unable to control the noises she’s making.

she’s so sensitive it drives you mad. the last time she hooked up with anyone was more than a year ago, and ever since then she’s been prioritizing keeping herself alive over jacking off. whenever your clits bump, you feel a small, warm splash of her squirt against your cunt, and it makes you more aroused than you’ve ever been.

it gets very messy very quickly. your lips crash together in a heated and very wet kiss, and your cunts are creating a pile of slick that’s currently dripping down abby’s ass and making a puddle on the bed. you can’t tell if you’re dizzy because of your arousal, sleepiness, or love for her, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

abby cums after only a few minutes, and when she does she twitches and writhes and squeals so much you think you might have to sedate her. you keep grinding on her until you cum, which quickly overstimulates her even further until you’re almost positive she’s blacked out or something.

when you come down from your own high, you scoot yourself off of her. two clear strings of slick connect you to her, but eventually break and drip down onto the bed. she sighs when you lay next to her.

“was that good?” you ask.

“fuck. i think i need the oxygen mask more than you do.” she pants. you laugh and wrap your arms around her, ready to get a few minutes of cuddling in before you force your aftercare routine upon her.

she sighs. “thanks for taking care of me.”

“you know i’ll always take care of you, abby. right? just because i’m not your nurse anymore doesn’t mean i don’t love you anymore.”

“you love me?”

“ever since the day i met you.”

#abby oneshot WHO CHEERED????#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #the last of us

643 notes · View notes

zhongfile · 2 months ago

Text

something’s missing. — Lee Donghyuck

PAIRING. haechan x fem reader

GENRE. smut

WARNINGS. blackmailing, dubcon themes, unprotected sex, crying, slapping, oral, degradation, forced breeding, stalking of socials, non-consented recording. big d!ck haechan agenda.

WC. 2.1K

A/N: miss the dreamies so bad it got me writing again😪 please enjoy this smut that i’ve been working on for a while that only @2cupids has known about LOL. feedback is so highly appreciated it’s been so long!! proof read but not rly oops. hope you enjoy:’)

Haechan scoffed when he viewed your story. Jealousy washing over his body when he saw you kissing another man on the cheek. the caption reading happy one month with a pink heart emoji. “Unbelievable” he mumbled to himself, tossing his phone. Surely you were only posting that to make him upset right?

You and haechan parted ways a long time ago. Two years ago to be exact haechan still believing you loved him and only moved on to get a reaction out of him. Which.. wasn’t true. You stopped worrying about haechan the day you two broke up. Threatening to get a restraining order made him back off a little, giving you the chance to call the quits. Haechan tried to rationalize with you saying he couldn’t live without you and wanted to remain good friends even if you two weren’t together anymore. You were easy to manipulate though that quickly came to an end.

Your ‘friendship’ lasted maybe a good week before you stopped returning his phone calls and blocked him on everything. Now here you are two years later in a happy relationship, new friends, and even a better job. Haechan hasn’t even crossed your mind since you’ve been with Jake, finally feeling safe in a relationship for once.

Haechan on the other hand still kept tabs on you. Though you blocked him and all his friends he still had an old burner account he used to stalk your socials. He was happy to see you happy but hated that it wasn’t him being there for you and all your new accomplishments. He hated seeing you under another man. He hated that you were purposely posting all this to make him jealous. To make him react this way.

He shakes his head, smacking his dry lips together, how could you just move on that easily?

Haechan had to think of a way to get you back into his life again.

You laid your head on your boyfriend's chest as you slowly began to drift off to sleep. Your phone buzzed ignoring the first two times it went off getting up to check it the third time it buzzed. The number that texted you was a number you didn't save or recognize, figuring someone just had the wrong number. Your eyes went wide at the three video attachments of you fucking haechan and giving him head. ‘Why does he still have these?’ You asked yourself. Your heart sank at the following messages. He found you yet again.

Unknown: Remember these?

Unknown: Oh how I miss you and your tongue. I still watch these videos to get myself off

Unknown: come on y/n don’t ignore me :((

Unknown: maybe i should send these videos to jake huh? show him how much fun we used to have.

You froze at the text.. How did he know who Jake was?

You: please delete those videos haechan. seriously please

Unknown: look who finally decided to reply!

Unknown: come over and maybe i’ll consider deleting

You: please don’t do this again. just delete them and we both can go our separate ways donghyuck.

Unknown: either you come over or i send it to him. your call

Haechan smiled to himself when you texted you were on the way. He was going to make you his again.

Haechan decided to tidy up the place before your arrival, spraying some cheap air freshener in his living room to make his apartment seem more comfortable. He wanted seeing you again to be memorable, setting up a camera in the far left corner in his living room hiding it good enough so you wouldn’t see. His hands felt sweaty and his heart rate was increasing, butterflies filling his tummy. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to see you, a grin slowly creeping on his face.

You had a horrible feeling about how this whole thing was going to go. Haechan never takes no for an answer and you had a gut feeling it was going to take everything in you to get him to delete those old videos. The pit of your stomach began to drop when you arrived at his apartment. Horrible flashbacks started playing in the back of your head when you parked your car. let’s just get this over with you thought to yourself as you approached Haechan’s door.

It’s like he could feel your presence at the door opening it before you even knocked. He smiled, “hi”

“hey..” you mumbled under your breath barely looking at him.

Haechan opened the door wider welcoming you in. Everything was still the same.. the exact same. Same old raggedy furniture that he should’ve thrown away years ago. Even your old pictures of the two of you were hanging on the wall. All the memories between you two begin to flood your mind and you need to get haechan to delete these videos so you could leave and never think about him again.

“Come sit,” Haechan patted his thigh, that shit eating grin resting on his lips. You didn’t want to upset or trigger anything obeying everything he asked you to do. You sat on his knee, hands resting uncomfortably in your lap. “So tell me what’s been new? How are things with your little boyfriend?” he asked, moving your hair out of your face to see you better, making you close your eyes at his touch. “Things are okay...”

“Just okay?” he asked emphasizing on ‘just’

“things are good..” you corrected yourself trying to shift off his lap a bit haechan pulling you closer to him squeezing your thigh. “Why are you trying to run away from me?” He asked with a slight pout to his lips

“Haechan.. please” your voice was barely above a whisper refusing to make eye contact with him. “I just want you to delete the videos so we can go our separate ways again”

“Come on, you don’t miss me?” you didn’t reply quick enough for his liking making haechan pull you all the way onto his lap a gasp leaving your lips as you now straddled him.

“Haechan” you called softly “ohh now you can hear me” he let out a teasing laugh rubbing his hands up and down your thigh.

“please..” you begged once again. Haechan rubbed your cheek so softly and sweet like he actually cared about anything you were asking him for. He reached in the front of his pocket pulling his phone out unlocking it and showing you his messages. The video of you two already loaded up to be sent to jake. All it took was one press.

“Haechan please stop” you cry, “i’ll do anything!” you blurted out reaching for the phone.

Haechan locked it and looked down at you. And there it was. He knew you were gonna eventually give in.

He rests his arms on the couch looking at your head tilted to the side. “Get on your knees”

You hesitated getting off his lap kneeling between his spread legs. Your hands were shaking unbuckling his jeans only pulling his pants down far enough to free his cock. Haechan hisses at the cool air hitting his tip dripping in pre-cum. your lips glide over his length trying your best to fit him in your mouth. bobbing your head back and forth gently Haechan getting impatient with this little act you were putting up. You’ve sucked his dick plenty of times. Why are you acting like you don’t know what you are doing?

He grabbed a fistful of your hair making you yelp “Are you trying to piss me off huh?” he slapped you across the face making you close your eyes from the sting.

You shook your head no. “I can’t hear you” he slaps you again, a tear falling down your cheek. “no..” you sniffled.

“Then do it right” he pushed your head back down onto his cock doing the work for you.

“fuck” he mumbled under his breath pushing your face all the way down on his cock almost cumming on the spot watching you gag. You pinched at his thigh trying to get him to let go so you could breathe but Haechan didn’t care. He just wanted to get his dick wet by his favorite girl.

He finally pulled you up smirking at the way you gasped for air. He let out a moan at the sight of you. Drool and spit dripping down your chin and chest. Eyes filled with tears. He loved seeing you all messy like this. He swore his cock got harder from you crying. For him it was his favorite site. He grabbed you by the jaw guiding you back to his lap.

“Sit on it” you sniffled again wanting to tell him no but couldn’t risk making him more upset. Taking a step back to take your shorts and panties off. You align his cock up with your entrance gripping onto his shoulders to help steady yourself. Haechan surprisingly lets you take your time easing down on his cock the stretch feeling unbelievable.

Haechan let out a sigh when you finally sat all the way. Hands gripping your hips “still so fucking tight— shit”

“y/n— you gotta move or fuck— i’ll fuck up into you” you let your hands rest on his shoulder slowly beginning to bouce up and down.

“it hurts.. you’re too big” you mumbled in between sobs.

“Jake doesn’t fill you up this well does he baby?” you close your eyes at the mention of Jake. Feeling completely horrible for even doing this.

“You missed me didn’t you?” Haechan asked, thrusting up into you watching the way you bite your lip to hold back your moan.

your legs were growing weak and you felt like you could cum in any second. You wanted to keep your eyes closed but couldn’t help but look at the way haechan was so into it. His head was thrown back resting against the couch as he helped you bounce on his big cock. Lip snuck between his teeth watching the way his cock goes in and out of your sweet cunt.

“it’s so big,” you whimpered. “I know baby” Haechan cooed wiping at your tears.

“missed you and this pretty fucking pussy so much” he shook his head, “can’t believe you stayed this tight”

you tried to ignore his words grabbing at his shoulders so hard you were sure he’ll have marks in the morning.

“so pathetic your boyfriend can’t get you off the way i can”

“stop” you managed to mumble out. “What's wrong? don’t like it when i talk about your sweet boyfriend?” he teased.

“How do you think he’ll feel if he saw you right now? Whoring yourself out like this for me?” the tears wouldn’t stop. You hid your face in his shoulder begging him to stop bringing Jake up.

He let out a laugh at the way you hid yourself rubbing circles in your clit. “Haechan please.. stop” you weren’t even sure if you were letting out real words anymore. Your head was dizzy and full off of being a shitty girlfriend and Haechan.

“You’re so fucking close i know you” he laughed. “Cumming from the thought of your boyfriend seeing us fuck hm? Pretty fucked up way of thinking huh pretty girl?” The tears wouldn’t stop still hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“you’re only crying because you feel bad for enjoying this” you begin to sob harder because he’s right.

You didn’t miss haechan and you didn’t miss your relationship but you missed this. The sex life. His big cock that he only enjoyed abusing on you. You love Jake and everything about him but you knew for a fact he wouldn’t fill you up the way Haechan is right now.

“Gonna cum in you” Haechan groaned, closing his eyes shut. You jolted up at his words telling him no.

“Gonna cum in your sweet cunt” Haechan moaned again ignoring your first protest.

“Haechan you can’t! i’m not on the pill—“ he covered your mouth with his left hand tossing his head back as he came in you. Filling you up so good. You closed your eyes at the feeling letting another tear fall down your cheek. Haechan finally took his hand off your mouth trying to catch his breath.

He unlocked his phone showing you to your face that the videos are gone. Deleting all three. You still sat there cheeks puffy and eyes swollen red from all your crying. Haechan wiped your face and kissed your cheeks.

“You don’t have to worry anymore okay? it’s all done” you gave him a nod getting off to clean yourself up before heading home. You couldn't wait to be back in Jake’s arms again.

When you left his apartment haechan promised not to contact you. Apologizing for bothering you in the first place again. You felt pretty good about it this time not feeling the need to block him on anything.

Haechan reached behind his flower pot, stopping the video he recorded. He smiled to himself when he hit play hearing your sobs and pleads. God it was good enough to get him hard again but not tonight. He uploaded the video to his laptop adding to a folder labeled ‘y/n’ where he kept all videos and pictures of you over the past two years. He walked up to his calendar lifting up the page to October. Circling October 21st. That’s when he’ll text you again with another video, surprise. He couldn’t believe how easy this was again.

He finally had your trust back.

644 notes · View notes

bakuhatsufallinlove · 6 months ago

Text

424

All right, listen. It’s pretty damn funny that two weeks ago I posted all like, “oh I don’t really comment chapter-by-chapter, I’m waiting to see what happens next,” but this one broke me.

This chapter was everything I wanted for bkdk, and it’s so much more tender than I ever dreamed it could be.

This post is not going to be like most of my posts, because I am a flood of emotion. If you’re wanting some detailed, well-researched analysis of this scene, that ain’t coming for a while.

I don’t have some kind of comparative linguistics to show you. I just have my visceral reactions as someone who speaks Japanese and has absorbed Japanese media for many years. I have shared my heart with others in Japanese, I’ve sputtered out words between sobs and felt the many kinds of comfort different people try to offer. I have comforted others who let themselves be vulnerable with me.

In all these moments, just as in English, I wondered if my words and feelings reached them. Each time, I felt the warmth of connection when they looked at me, and I decided that they knew I did my best. They accepted me, even if it wasn’t perfect.

I’m gonna tell you the truth, and I wouldn’t normally say this so directly, but it matters to me: the fan translation for this specific scene is not good. The tone is wildly off in some ways and it outright omits a number of very important words.

The official translation gets so much of it right.

But that’s not really what I want to talk about right now. I want to talk about how people are reading this scene.

I have seen a ton of, frankly, oblivious interpretations of Izuku’s side of things.

Listen to me. Izuku is not making fun of Katsuki for crying, he is not telling Katsuki that crying isn’t like him, that isn’t in the text at all. He is not rejecting Katsuki’s feelings, or belittling them, or ignoring them, or any of that.

Izuku has seen Katsuki cry in-canon a number of times, but every time it was over his own personal failures, and the frustration, anger, guilt, and grief associated with them. We see it in the aftermath of Deku vs. Kacchan 1. We see it during Deku vs. Kacchan 2.

Izuku is shocked to see Kacchan cry because this is the first time he has cried for Izuku.

When Katsuki apologized in 322, he looked Izuku in the eye and told him his feelings with conviction and poise. He was gentle and vulnerable, but strong, because he was asking Izuku to trust them and rely on them. To come back with them and believe in them, like they believe in Izuku. He bowed his head to show his remorse. He caught Izuku when he fell, and he accepted Izuku’s own apology.

He embodied dignity, sincerity, and strength of character. He was a true hero.

This?

This is the raw, honest sorrow of a young boy. It is a tender, earnest, unguarded display of how much Izuku means to him.

These are the tears you shed for someone you cherish. These are tears for when you think you are losing something you can’t live without. Because Katsuki isn’t just crying for the loss of Izuku’s dream—it’s their dream, the future they dreamt up together as kids.

Izuku is almost pathologically incapable of understanding how other people see him and feel about him, but this is unmistakable. He is stunned because there is no other explanation.

There is unmitigated heartache and longing at the core of Katsuki saying, “I just thought somehow we would be together like this, competing and chasing after each other, forever.”

And Izuku is reeling, but so, so touched, and filled with fondness. Look at how his shock shifts to this overwhelmed, affectionate smile.

He’s right—this isn’t the usual Katsuki, and that is precisely why it means so much. We as the audience have been privy to Katsuki’s feelings, but until now Izuku himself has never really grasped the depth of them. This is all the tenderness Katsuki has kept locked up inside, and he is letting Izuku see it for the first time.

To see Kacchan—strong, fierce, and absolutely unstoppable—shed these innocent, helpless tears for him and tell him through sobs that he wanted things to stay this way forever, I can’t blame him for being blown away.

I think Izuku expected Katsuki to be shocked and a little sad that he gave up OFA, both for Izuku’s sake and because it is the legacy of their hero. Before Katsuki even starts crying, Izuku has this small smile on his face, like he was ready to reassure him that he had made peace with his own choice.

But he clearly didn’t expect for Katsuki to weep openly in front of him about it or to confess to wanting him by his side. Izuku had so enjoyed just being allowed near Katsuki, allowed in his life at all—to think that Katsuki could want the same and want it this much, to the point that he worries that things would change, that Izuku would abandon him or deny him? How could that ever be?

In what world could Izuku ever stop chasing Kacchan?

Izuku is a bit of an idiot. He has always thought that Katsuki understood how much he cared for and admired him—that’s why he is so shocked during DvK2 to hear that Katsuki thought he looked down on him for years. Izuku thought Katsuki understood his feelings and simply rejected them.

The way he loves Kacchan is natural and unquestionable. Even now, he can’t understand how Katsuki doesn’t know. It’s baffling to him.

But he still accepts Katsuki’s vulnerability and responds to the intimacy.

This is such an affectionate, loving thing to say. Izuku is being so sweet. I cannot convey to you strongly enough how Izuku telling Katsuki, “C’mon, stop it, this isn’t like you!” reaffirms their closeness.

If Izuku had not said this line and instead skipped straight to this nervous, awkward little attempt at comfort here:

It would have read as so much more distant.

With his tears and his confession, Katsuki pleads with Izuku to not leave him. To be with him always.

And in response, Izuku unabashedly stakes his claim on their bond by being bold enough to affectionately scold him and even assert authority on what kind of person Katsuki is. Remember these?

Chapters 202 and 319

This is such a staple in Japanese media for showing close bonds. Your loved ones know you. They tease you. They scold you. They have that right. You gave it to them.

The people you love cheer you up by reminding you that you’re strong and brave and that even if things feel hopeless and like you can’t go on, that they know you can. Everything will be okay, and they know so because they’ll be right there with you. Of course they’ll be there.

Symbolically, throughout the series, Izuku’s response to Katsuki trying to be closer to him has always been: “Of course.”

He has always accepted Katsuki as much as he is able to, as much as he had awareness for. He is wildly lacking in self-awareness, so it’s certainly not perfect, but by god does he try.

What Izuku is really saying is a mixture of “Really? You want that, too?” and “Don’t be silly!”

One part is him being shocked and touched; the other is him being absolutely certain of his own heart, and showing it as best he can.

He does get flustered and self-conscious, though—because it’s overwhelming to see Kacchan this way, and this is kind of new territory for them. So he switches tactics to reassure Kacchan about how things are now, and make sure he doesn’t feel embarrassed about this outburst. He still has the embers, so it’s okay for now. And their bodies are weak, so of course their heads will be in a bad place too, it’s easy to get low spirits. Of course Katsuki would be feeling vulnerable. It’s normal.

He gives Katsuki so many things here. He gives him as much as he can.

Izuku doesn’t know how long he’ll have the embers for and, frankly, he doesn’t have any guarantee that he will be able to satisfy this longing of Katsuki’s after he loses them. This, too, is a staple of promises in Japanese media: “I don’t know if I can satisfy you, but I want to try. I hope you can accept me.”

Things will be different—the future is always uncertain, now more than ever for their world. But what will never change is what they feel in their hearts.

After this scene, I honestly don’t care if we get something other people see as “bkdk canon.”

What Katsuki says is as good as a confession to me. What Izuku says in return is genuine and pure. This is a messy pair of teenage boys figuring out how to reach each other with words, when they have always been so damn bad at it. This is the two of them both reaching a new point of intimacy and reaffirming everything that came before.

#bkdk #bakudeku #mha 424 #meta #mha spoilers #mha manga spoilers #I swear to god I will fight everyone #my heart is dying at the LACK OF APPRECIATION FOR WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE #some of us need to learn how to love Izuku the way Kacchan loves Izuku

783 notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 11 months ago

Text

The Pit

COD masterlist Part 1/2 - Part 2

Ghost/Soap/female reader 6.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, dub con, kidnapping, manipulative hurt/comfort, whump, the guys shave you, humiliation, forced orgasm, predator/prey, medical inaccuracies. Clothed males/naked female. The Pit by Silversun Pickups. Horror-ish. Misery inspired.

Winter in the mountains can be cruel.

This is something you’ve always known, even as a child. You were raised with it. Chose to return to it after school, decided to make a go of it, of a life here, as an adult. You knew what you were getting yourself into, long cold winters that felt both bleak and promising, unblemished blankets of snow possessing the ability to be stunning, while also lethal. Winters were dangerous, silent killers that left corpses in their wake and no amount of lupine or paintbrushes, glacier fed lakes or springtime moose calves could make up for the hell that winter wrought. Winter brings most living things to the knife’s edge of survival, forcing most to bow beneath the weight of its fury, backs breaking with the burden of just existing in an environment that truly acts, and feels, inhospitable.

Although, there are those who do more than survive the cold, violent stretch of winter.

There are predators who thrive.

“You closin’?” Your coworker, the new one, asks from where she’s settled across the dark wood bar, two amber Budweiser bottles empty in front her idle hands, eyes wandering to guys posted up by the loneliest pool table in fifty square miles.

“I am.” She casts the only window in the entire place a surreptitious glance, fingers peeling away at a label. It’s snowing, has been for hours, flakes fat and wet, fluffy enough that the density of the snow on the ground is light, but dangerous, as it hides the real risk underneath; packed snow sitting with a slick sheen of ice on top.

“You still trying to make it over Fall River pass tonight?” You nod.

“Yeah. Supposed to see my brother and his new place this weekend.”

“Fall River? Is that even open right now?” Andy, a regular who lives a few streets over from you, chimes in, twisting an empty rocks glass in his fist. You pull the bottle of Jameson from the rail and tip it vertical, honey brown liquid sloshing like a wave until his glass is halfway full, and he gives you a flirty kind of smile, the same one he’s been giving you for a year now. Yeeesh.

“It is. I could go around, but it just takes too long. And it’s Friday. I’m not trying to be stuck on the highway with weekend traffic.” You complain, and they both commiserate your opinion. The traffic is brutal, especially in the winter. Driving in hazardous conditions is considered to be a talent more than an innate ability here, and people often overestimate their aptitude for it, causing crashes and delays that get the highway shut down for hours, or even days, at times. You shrug. “I’ve had my snow tires on for weeks. Might as well get some use out of them.” Andy snorts.

“Like you haven’t been gettin’ good use out of them? First real snow was before Halloween this year.” You nod. He’s not wrong. You did get dumped on two weeks before the end of October, twenty-three inches piling up within two days, before half the area was even ready for it. You throw him a polite smile, one that you hope reads like ‘okay thanks for the concern, we’re done now’ and he sighs. “Well, drive safe.”

Fall River pass, it turns out, is not open. It’s closed by the time you split off from the interstate and start the windy, switch-backed trek in your jeep, flashing orange and yellow lights dotting the top of a barricade just barely visible through the speckled snow flying by in your headlights.

Fuck. You could have sworn the DOT website said it was open. You take a deep breath, quelling the anxiety that roils your stomach. Okay. Not the end of the world. There’s another road. A less maintained option, but… you’ll be fine. You’ve driven in worse.

The other road, a sharp, narrow, desolate path that cuts through a large swath of unmanaged forest just outside the national park, is easy at first. You’ve been driving the same jeep for years, a 2007 two door Wrangler, and you know how it handles like the back of your hand. With snow tires, it could pretty much cut through anything, even unplowed, fire watch roads like this one.

Which is why, after the first few miles, your nerves fully settle, and you allow yourself to relax a little bit behind the wheel, easing the jeep across the dips and slicks in the road as you cautiously build speed, snow falling fast through night, growing thicker the higher you travel into wilderness territory, and the farther you left modern civilization behind.

An hour creeps by, and then two. Long enough that you’ve now realized you’re the only one using this road, fresh snow blanketing the woods around you, topography and vegetation starting to change as you encroach on what you assume must be eleven thousand feet. You’ve seen this road on google maps once, or twice maybe, having noted it for future travel just in case of a situation like this. It runs perpendicular to Fall River, and eventually meets another, one that must be similar, on the other side of the range. The secondary road is one that takes you along the ridge, and then down, you’re pretty sure, although you can’t be one hundred percent certain, because you lost cell reception before you even turned off from Fall River.

Still, won’t hurt to check and see if you have this area downloaded.

You pull your phone from the center console, thumbing at the screen, allowing your eyes to linger too long without looking back up through the windshield. No one else is out here. It’s not like you need to worry about oncoming traffic. The little SOS insignia blinks at the top corner, and you tap on the map icon, hoping it will bring up your geo location so you can glance at the satellite image of the area.

You’re so fixated watching the little circle of death try to load, that by the time you look up and see the tree laying across the road, it’s far too late. You do the first thing you were always taught not to do in winter conditions, and slam on the brake, shoving the pedal to floor, heart rate sky rocketing as you panic and lose total control of the jeep. You spin, shoulders and chest jamming against the seatbelt, headlights flashing off into the woods, illuminating an endlessly dark web of trees, bark and branch scratching across the paint as you careen off the road, tipping too precariously onto two wheels and then rolling.

Time, your life, stands completely still for a moment. You see every individual fiber of the pine needles, every uniquely designed snowflake, every single droplet of blood that floats away from your face and through midair as you crash through the forest, your grasp on consciousness slipping farther and farther away, the jeep finally coming to a stop on its side, your head cracked against the driver’s window, stars and streaks spawning out across your vision, headlights finally blinking out completely, leaving you alone in the dark. Your head spins like you’re still rolling, and the only sound in the dead silent snow is your harsh breathing, frantic terror bubbling up through your throat as pain surges through your body.

It's freezing, but you feel surprisingly warm.

You’re going to die out here. No one knows you took this road, you don’t have service, by the time they find you, it’ll be too late. You’ll be a bled out, frozen corpse, long gone and-

You lose your train of thought quickly. Everything starts to fracture, fissures forming in your consciousness, part of you already losing the battle to the inevitable, darkness pulling over your eyes like a knit hat, lungs heaving just a little harder with each breath.

You could just close your eyes. Just for a moment.

Light sweeps across the ground, flashing across your face. You think, if you were truly with it, in your right mind, you’d think it was too bright. You’d say it was blinding.

But you can’t formulate anything of the sort, mind too busy slipping away, falling into an inky black depth, just barely on the verge when you feel a gloved hand on your skin, the lilt of an accent on the wind.

Sleep.

You’re drifting. Falling through a stardusted, molasses filled haze, your mind ebbs and flows with consciousness; soft and warm feelings contrasted with sharp pain that bites through your body as if it’s slowly trying to eat you, chipping away piece by piece.

There are words, voices. There are hands too, fingers walking across your skin, limbs being moved, arranged, always with pain that’s followed by a hushed whisper of apology, a confusing sentiment in the dark. Your eyes won’t open. Your mouth won’t work. Your head is stuffed with cotton, wispy strands of connections that can’t quite get there, scrounging along the walls of your skull, trying to meet in the middle. You’re drowning, sinking to the bottom of a macabre pool, the one that’s infected your synapses and kept you just inside the shelter of delirium.

You try to call for help, but you can’t.

You try to swim to the surface, but the grisly black of your mind is never ending.

You’re dying, the tiny sliver of rational thought assures. Or you’re already dead.

Despair swells, and if you could feel your face, you’d think you were crying, lost to the sweeping desolation of your pain. It steals your breathe. Your sense. Everything becomes secondary to the obliterating agony that you feel.

Something touches your cheek. Your eyes fight to open, straining against the heaviness that weighs on them, just barely blinking wide enough to let some light in, your vision fuzzily trying to focus.

Wood beams come into view. A ceiling? Where-

You try to turn your head but an electric shock rattles through your brain, forcing you to slam your eyes shut again, world spinning on an uneven axis as something on the edge of your sight shifts. A monster. A man?

Something is said, whispered, and then everything fades away, your mind and body slipping beneath the waves of darkness.

The next time you surface, you manage to cling to consciousness long enough to take stock of your surroundings, realizing you’re tucked into a soft, warm bed almost immediately, something hot near your feet, pillows fluffed beneath you. A hand stitched quilt is spread across the top of copious other blankets and sheets, and your fingertips scratch against the fabric. Flannel.

You’re also awake long enough to truly experience the pain you’re in.

One thousand tiny knives rattle around in your skull, slicing into the soft matter of your brain, tearing you apart piece by piece, everything in you unmoored and off balance. Searing pain radiates up your leg, through your arm and wrist to your head and neck, and when your instinct urges you to try to move, your body screams in protest, the pain so intense that you cry out.

That’s when you see him.

A man steps towards you from the edge of your peripheral, and you freeze in terror.

“Shhh. We’re not goin’ hurt ye. Ye had a terrible accident. Pure luck we found ye when we did, dove. Ye would’ve died out there.” He coos in an accent, inching closer, and you manage to get a better look at him, recognition failing immediately. An accident? An accident… memories come flooding back, broken clips of the jeep spinning, rolling, the woods, the fear. Who is he? Where are you? Brilliant blue eyes look down at you with concern, handsome face tweaked into worry, furrow in his brow partially covered by the long strands of an overgrown mohawk. He’s pretty. “Can ye follow my finger?” He presents one in front of your nose, but it splits into two, and then three, just the attempt to focus enough to make your head throb, and a whimper escapes from your throat. “I know, I know.” There’s a ceramic mug in his hand, and he carefully lifts it to your lips, encouraging you as he tips it back, warm, sweet liquid washing down your throat. You can’t even move your arms to push him away, and when he seems to be satisfied, his thumb wipes the corner of your mouth. “Good love. Well done.” You feel woozy all of the sudden, maybe even a little nauseous, and you think you could be hallucinating when another man appears at the foot of the bed, handsome, but in a rugged way, watching you with honeyed brown eyes, the broadest, biggest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Those bones need setting.” He says, and the pretty one grimaces, fingertips trailing along your cheek.

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m still worried about the concussion.” His thumb cards across your brow.

“It’s been three days, Johnny. Can’t put it off too much longer.” Three days? Your brain latches onto the time. Three days of what? Since when? You’re starting to fade, trying to focus on what they’re saying but losing the battle horrendously when the blankets shift, warmth tucking down around your waist and shoulders, unable to react or even speak when they both press a kiss to your forehead, affectionate and longing touch that startles you until you’re losing the battle to sleep.

It's snowing.

You don’t have to see to know. There’s something about how it hangs in the air, how the world sounds during a snowfall that blankets everything: houses, trees, mountains… your mind.

You love the snow. Even as a child, winter was your favorite. Winter brought you a sense of calm, of peace. It’s what brought you back here, kept you here, even amidst the perils. The feeling of a forest, lying still beneath the soft spun expanse of white, the crisp smell of the air the morning of a big snow, the eternal quiet that exists in the night when everything is dampened by the weight of a million, billion, uniquely crystalized webs of frozen water.

This snow feels different. It doesn’t feel like a velvety white, candy-coated dream world; but a nightmare… one filled with pain, anxiety. Where are you? What’s happened?

And why do you hurt so fucking bad?

“You’re awake.” A deep voice says from your side, and you flinch on instinct, immediately wishing you hadn’t as lightning sharp pain zings through you, your voice breaking with a cry. “Easy.” He cautions, and your head stops swimming long enough for you to realize it’s the brown eyed man, the bigger one. He’s sitting in a chair that looks far too small for his width, watching you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed.

“Where… am I?” You manage to choke out through stiff lips, your head spinning and the world tilting at the same time. It sours your stomach, more than you thought possible, and you try to swallow the burn of bile that’s racing up your throat.

“Are you going to be sick?” He strokes your face, the touch nearly sweet, but confusing, and you hold your tongue, unsure. He sighs, expression shifting into disapproval, and then a frown. “Tell me.”

“N-no, I don’t-“ You can’t even finish your denial before your stomach is heaving and he’s springing into action, shifting you onto your side where a clean bucket sits right next to the bed. You wail in misery, pain shooting through your leg and arm, your ribs, bile and spit leaking from your mouth.

“It’s alright, that’s it.” A hand soothes up and down your back as you dry heave, sputtering on nothing, tears dripping to the wooden floorboards with a splash.

“Nnrgh-“

“I know, I know. Poor thing.” He coos, and it sounds… endearing, so sweet yet… frightening, like the poison of a predatory, a pretty display meant to draw you in before it snaps a set of jaws shut around your face.

Somewhere, nestled inside the last shards of your sanity, an alarm bell whistles, but the intensity of your pain quickly drowns it out, and you cry aloud.

“Hurts.” He rolls you back to your original position, arranging you like a doll. “It hurts.”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. We’re going to fix it.” A cloth dabs at your forehead and then down to clean your mouth, just as the man with the mohawk appears on the bed, one knee down, leaning over you, worry rife in his features.

“Poor baby. Were ye sick again?” Again? You blink up at him. What is going on? He presses a glass to your lips, urging you to drink, and then pulling it away after you’ve had a few sips with a gentle “not too much.”

“Who are you?” The water is cold, refreshing, but a ting acidic, and you wonder if it’s well water, maybe?

“I’m Johnny.” He’s setting up something beside you, organizing it, but you can’t turn your head to look, and can’t quite catch it from your peripheral. “An’ this is Simon. Or Si, but ye probably willnae be callin’ him that quite yet.” Quite yet? What? Did they find you? Did they rescue you? Why can’t you remember?

“What happened.” You try again, gritting your teeth.

“Ye had an accident, remember? We talked about it yesterday. Ye rolled off the road, ended up nearly down the mountain, in the thick of the trees. Ye’re lucky the one didnae impale ye.” Impale?

“And you found me?” You're starting to feel tired again, all the sudden, woozy and weird, exhaustion pulling at your limbs. Shouldn't you be in a hospital? Why haven't they taken you to a doctor?

“Aye, we did. Pulled ye out, brought ye home.” Home?

“You don’t have to worry.” Simon, the bigger one, tells you. “We’re going to take care of you.” Take care of who? Everything is foggy, clouded, and you try to shake your head in confusion.

“I don’t… why-“

“Storm is pretty bad. One of those, once in a lifetime types. Pass is closed.” You close your eyes. Of course. The pass is closed. You guess you’re lucky. They could have left you to die, and you could have never been found. You could have frozen to death. Bled out.

“Thank… thank you.” Johnny hums, and then you ripple in shock as he leans forward and brushes his lips against your mouth in a kiss. This… this is not normal? Are Scottish people just… more affectionate?

“Want ye to know, if we didnae have to do this, we woudnae.” What?

“Do what?” Simon casts you a mournful glance, rising from the chair. He’s got piece of leather in his hand, like a cut from a belt, and your eyes dart between them, fear freezing solid inside your pores. Do what?

“Bite down on this, precious.” Simon instructs, placing the swatch against your bottom lip, and you jerk away in protest, pain burning through your body.

“Do what?” You try to sound strong, demanding, but it comes out a little less than timid, and he gives you a sad smile.

“Your femur is broken.” A warm hand rests on your leg, over the covers, and you try to click the pieces together. “And I suspect your radius is, too. We need to set them.”

Oh. Oh no.

“N-no, no, you… you ca-can’t.” You stutter. They can’t. A doctor should be doing that, shouldn’t they? Johnny hovers over you, placing his palm on your belly, stroking upwards to the middle of your chest, the other holding firm across your collarbone. His touch is gentle, but strong, and his thumb rubs in a cautious motion against your skin, lightly grazing the underside of your breast. It feels weird, and wrong… intimate in a way that makes you shiver. “Please. Please, please… don’t-“

“It’s alright.” He shushes you, and the pressure increases against your body as Simon wedges a thick finger between your teeth, slipping the worn leather in your mouth, bracing around your wrist, his other hand holding your elbow. You gasp for air, adrenaline fueled by pain and fear coursing through you, and Johnny coos, telling you ye’ll be alright, that ye’re with them now, and they’ll take such good care of ye.

“Take a deep breath.” Simon urges, and you stare at him, wide eyed, pulse thundering in your ears.

“Ye’ll probably pass out, bonnie. We’ll get the second one done while ye’re down, and I already gave ye somethin’ for the pain.” He assures, like it’s supposed to relieve you, and your nostrils flare as something tightens against your arm. Simon’s grip.

This can’t be happening. This has to be a nightmare. How can this happen? No, nononono-

There’s a crack. A crunch. Burning, obliterating torture rockets up your arm, exploding inside you like a shot. You scream and bite down at the same time, raw misery trying to claw it’s way out of your throat. You think you’re crying, hallucinating from the pain, having a heart attack, fucking dying, all at once. It hurts, it hurts so bad, stop, please-

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry.” Simon soothes, thumb wiping your cheek, but you can hardly hear him, your brain starting to sever itself from reality, floating away as you slip inside the dark tomb of your mind, losing yourself to the fog as they both stare down at you, sickeningly saccharine concern layered overtop the faces of wolves, predators licking their maws in preparation for a meal.

You sleep and wake in a haze.

You sleep. Your dreams are torments, visions of being chased through the mountains by monsters, being pinned to the ground, teeth tearing into your throat with no preamble, or nightmares of drowning, being swallowed by the ocean, lungs sputtering with concrete laden sea water.

You wake. Your vision blurs, mind scrambled by pain, vaguely aware of being moved, carried to the bathroom, held upright over a toilet, gentle touch soothing up and down your back, heavy palm cupping curve of your skull when your head is tipped back and something is dribbled past your lips. You blink blearily with stone weighted lids, taking in the room bit by bit, the wrought iron bed frame, crackling flames sparking in a fireplace, mountain of pillows sagging with the imprint of your body. Your limbs are wrapped and unwrapped, immobilized, and shifted, and the pain is enough to make you gasp for air, tipping you over into the decaying depths of unconsciousness again and again.

You sleep. Restless, chilled. Ice spreads from the nerves in the tip of your nose to your brain, your fingers, and you try to burrow it deeper, seeking the comfort of the pillows, but finding warm skin and muscle instead. In your sleep, it’s lovely. It’s comforting. Even when you’re rolled to your side, something sticking under your tongue, you chase the heady thick heat that seems to roll off the limbs around you.

You wake. There are voices, deep and rumbling, bouncing through the room. Warm water dabbing down your neck, your belly, your legs. You’re too hot, uncomfortable and smothered until you hear a sharp pitched snarl accompanied by a yank, and then there’s a void of emptiness around you.

You sleep.

You wake. The pain starts to change, melting into something that’s consistent, throbbing, but a little less sharp, unless you move, and then it shrieks through your nerves like an electrical shock, vibrating your jaw shut.

You sleep.

You wake. They’re there. Simon is dabbing a cool washcloth across your forehead. You try to flex away on instinct, but firm hands stop you, holding you in place.

“Hey there, dove.” Johnny whispers, smiling. It’s a shy kind of smile, sweet, and the world spins. You grapple with reality, trying to remind yourself where you are, what happened. The fire snaps and pops behind Simon, who stands at his side, massive hand on his shoulder. “Made ye some breakfast. Think ye can eat somethin’?” Breakfast? A steaming bowl of oats sits cradled in his hand, spoon at the ready. Nausea roars, enflamed by the pain in your bones, and you shake your head. “Ye need to eat. Been givin’ ye soup for the past few days, but ye need more carbs.”

“I- I don’t understand.” You try to explain your confusion, hundreds of questions brewing on your tongue, trying to spill out.

“You’ve been in and out consciousness for the last week.” Simon explains, and your eyes widen.

“What?” Panic knots, twisting you up tight, heart fluttering in your chest.

“We had to sedate you. Needed to keep you still through the first part of the healing process.”

“You… you drugged me?” You stammer, and Simon smiles, but it’s not sweet like Johnny’s. It’s severe. It’s dangerous.

“Soft calluses form around fractures, after they’ve been set.” He sits down on the other side of the bed, across your hips from Johnny. “Your breaks aren’t in casts, so we needed to minimize your movement until the calluses could strengthen.”

“Ye willnae be able to walk on the leg, or lift anything with that arm, but we’ll help ye.” Johnny assures. “We’ll be here for ye, as ye get better.” The words don’t compute, and you look at both of their faces, sweeping back and forth, blue eyes to brown, brown to blue, until the only thing that you can think of blurts out of your mouth:

“Where’s my phone?” There’s a flash of discontent in Johnny’s features, but it’s quickly smoothed away, and you wonder if it even there in the first place.

“I imagine it’s somewhere near where your jeep rolled. We weren’t exactly concerned with finding it, considering we were trying to save your life.” Simon’s hands flex in the sheets, and then relax, serious look on his face, and guilt swamps you. Right. They saved your life. You could have died. And the pass is closed. Maybe this is all… as normal as it can be, given the situation. Calm down.

Still…

Didn’t Johnny kiss you?

The spoon clinks against the bowl, jolting you back to the moment, eyeing the scoop of oats as it drifts closer to your mouth, lips parting on instinct.

The first bite is difficult, an insipid, unsavory lump sliding down into your stomach, toothy grin stretching across Johnny’s face as you swallow. The second bite is easier. So is the third, and you manage a few more after that until you start to feel wooly, head fuzzy and stomach sick. “I can’t.” You bleat, and he nods sympathetically.

“Alright, ye did good.” Sleep tugs, insistent again, strong surge of fog pulling at your eyes, and you yawn.

“Tired?” Simon’s already moving, hovering, patiently adjusting your pillows and lazily urging you into them. “You should rest.” You’re too weak, too miserable to argue, so you let yourself fade to black, easily falling back into the webbed slush of sleep.

You drift in and out for days after that. A bright spot of consciousness here and there before it dissipates and you fall into oblivion, and you find yourself embracing it as often as possible, trying to escape into yourself, away from wooden beams and potential predators that flank you.

You’re content to let it stay that way, hiding away behind closed lids for as long as possible, until the morning you feel the washcloth.

“Sh-sh-shhh.” Johnny hums when you garble out a distressed question, tipping a glass to your mouth. Cold liquid rushes across your tongue, and you have no choice but to swallow, confusion webbing across your thoughts. Simon has the blankets pulled away, chilled air nipping and your skin, and you moan. It’s strange, like you’re exposed, half floating like you’re high, and half spiraling through your pain.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you.” They’re repositioning you, arms and legs like a little doll, and you frown. “Jus’ need to get you clean.” Clean? The washcloth coasts across your neck and down to your chest, warm water soaking a trail down your breasts. You’re naked, fully, a hot palm against your hip, skin on skin contact registering as you blink fuzzily, watching the way Johnny focuses on you, concentration shining in his stunning blue eyes.

Water sloshes. Squeezing and dripping, and then the warm, nearly hot cloth is being pressed against you, stroking over your nipples, washing the underside of your breasts. It feels nice, and you whine a little when it pulls away. Simon chuckles.

“Do ye like that?” Johnny coos, reapplying the cloth to your belly. “Does that feel good?” Does it? Is it supposed to? Your vision doubles then realigns, and you stare at the underside of Simon’s jaw, mesmerized by the scar on his chin, the width of his neck. He readjusts you, again, slowly moving your knees apart, spreading your legs, and heat climbs through your bones to your cheeks.

You’re naked. They’re fully clothed.

“We’re goin’ clean this up a bit.” Simon murmurs, a thick finger tracing along your slit, through the soft curls between your legs, and you balk. Clean what? How?

“My… my-“ you can’t even get the words out, too embarrassed, and he nods, sliver flash of a razor twinkling in his hand. The air in your chest sputters.

“Your hair.” Johnny works the washcloth back and forth, water dripping down your skin to the towel that’s been placed under your hips, you can only lay there in mortification when you feel yourself getting wet, tepid arousal roaring to life between your legs. “If you’re a good girl for us,” Simon continues, spraying a big glob of shaving cream into Johnny’s palm, “we’ll give you a treat afterwards. How’s that sound?”

“A treat?” You squeak, and then whimper, Johnny’s fingers creeping down your slit, rubbing the cream across your pubis and labia, heel brushing against your clit. You make a noise of a protest, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Ye’re alright.” He coos, bumping against the swollen bud again, and you try to stop the moan that builds in your chest with no success, slamming your eyes shut and trying to disappear into the pillows. “It’s natural, dove. Ye dinnae need to feel embarrassed.” He leans forward, slotting his mouth against yours, lips soft and fragrant in a pillowy sweet kiss that lasts too long, his eyes blissfully closed in front of your almost crossed ones.

“Please…” you whisper, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for, and Johnny coos at you, bending at the waist to get a better vantage point between your legs. You shake your head, eyes wide with disbelief, with fear, your mind trying to catch up, trying to rationalize what’s happening at the same time as your body is betraying you, slicking the cream that’s lathered between your thighs, clit pulsing with desperate need.

“I- I don’t want you to… shave me.” You whisper. You don’t want them to touch you… there, and the panic that’s pulsing between your ears continues to rise as your protests go unnoticed. Just saying it out loud makes you want to die of embarrassment, and Simon clucks.

“We have to take care of you, sweet girl.” Simon grips your thigh, fingers pressing into flesh, and the cool blade of the razor moves against the grain with a flick of his wrist, drawing back to a bucket for a rinse before a repeat, breath frozen in your chest as he slowly eliminates the curls of your pubic hair. “It will be easier to do that, to see what you need without all this.” He hums, the smile of a wolf coy on his face. “Stay nice and still for us.” They work in tandem, perfectly synchronized, and your unwanted arousal starts to overpower the pain that’s radiating from your broken bones. It’s been so, so long since you’ve been touched by anyone, and your body does not care that you didn’t want this, or agree to it, too eager to be satisfied, to be touched in anyway it can get, and it gets worse, more intense the longer it goes on, the precise movements of their hands, the slow and methodical approach to your cunt. “Almost done.” Simon tells you, and the side of his finger passes over your clit unintentionally, and you whine. “I know, I know. You’re bein’ so good. Such a good girl.” Your good hand is shaking, gripping the sheets, and when he finishes, Johnny wipes you down with a clean cloth, passing over your clit again and again, electric shocks sparking in your belly. You’re paralyzed, helpless, and yet… soaked. Desperate. The warring emotions tear at you, shame and fear and desire rendering you speechless.

“I think ye need some relief, dove.” Johnny hums, looking from your pussy to Simon, both of them tilting their heads to stare between your legs. “Poor thing is so swollen, Si.”

“Do you want to touch her, Johnny? Give her a reward?” Simon asks him, so sweetly, and Johnny shimmies down to be eye level with your pussy, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Half of you screams no. Half of you shouts yes.

All you can do is watch, helplessly, as they settle themselves between your legs, Simon over Johnny’s shoulder, tempering his frenzied excitement with assured patience.

“Will ye show me how?” He’s eager, and you frown, confused.

“Johnny’s never made a girl come before,” Simon tells you gently. “You’ll be his first.” Oh my god. “Will you help him? Tell him what feels good?” Your brain melts. You don’t know what to say, mouth half open, staring at the both of them, and after a few seconds, Simon sighs like he’s exasperated with you, before ducking back down next to Johnny and murmuring softly to him, probing along your cunt, finger dipping into your hole, swirling in the wetness gathered there and then moving up to your slit. You gasp, eyes nearly rolling back in your head.

“She likes that.” Johnny groans, breath blowing over your exposed flesh, and Simon takes his hand, thumb over thumb, guiding him in small circles around your clit.

“Nice an’ slow at first, when you’re rubbin’ her clit. Feel how hard it is?” He instructs, pressing a kiss to the side of Johnny’s head, and he nods enthusiastically, looking up at Simon with wide, puppy dog eyes, sappy and saturated with love. It’s sweet, and affectionate, like they’re the only ones in the room, in the world… and you’re intruding on a private moment between these two men and your body. Like you’re a bystander. Or a doll. It’s confusing, your brain trying to sort everything that’s happening into neat little boxes that keep overflowing or falling apart, fracturing under the weight of your helplessness, the shock and fear that’s nearly made you dizzy. “See how her little hole is clenchin’ like that? It’s ‘cause she’s empty, needs to be filled up. When she comes, she’ll get real tight.” He explains, your body enflaming in mortified heat. They’re pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, and Simon increases the speed as your hips jolt.

“Fuck.” You hiss.

“That’s it.” Simon coaches. “Are you close, sweet girl? Gonna come for us?” You shake your head, but even if you wanted to close your legs, you couldn’t. You’re trapped, lost in a sea of wild waves that break directly over your head, one after another until you’re drowning, gasping, muscles so tight they burn, pain in your arm and leg a secondary concern behind the pressure in your belly, the zap of your clit as they drag you too easily to the bottom, before sending you breaking through the surface.

You come with a distressed moan, hips jerking, and then a raspy plea for them to stop, telling them it’s too much, you’re too sensitive, to which Simon wraps his hand around Johnny’s wrist and pulls his hand away.

“We can’t overwhelm her just yet. Gotta wait until she’s healed up, hm?” He murmurs, reaching for the cloth. You blink at the ceiling, drifting, floating away, little boxes in your mind broken up into gnarled pieces that don’t make sense.

What just happened?

You stay silent, blank, as they settle you, cloth cleaning between your legs, blankets being fussed with around your body, pillows plumped. Simon curls some of your unruly hair behind your ear, swooping down until the breadth of his body blocks out all the light in the room, lips brushing over your ear. “What a good girl you are, dove. Did so well, letting Johnny give you an orgasm. So sweet for him.” He tucks you in a little tighter, and Johnny ducks around him, kissing you gently, like you’re made of glass, thrilled smile tugging at his cheeks, unfettered joy the last thing you see before your eyes slip shut.

The next time you wake, Johnny is in bed with you. It’s dark, a flickering orange glow casting shadow across the room, and you startle at the weight of his arm stretched across your chest, cradling you close, half curled around you like a cat. You turn, face to face, his mouth slightly agape, breath blowing over your cheek. You can’t get enough leverage on one leg to slide out from under him, and when you squirm, he only tightens his grip, pinning you to the bed. You’re overheated, and when you peek over his shoulder to get a look at the fire, you see Simon instead, sitting upright in a chair, fully awake, watching you. White hot fear shocks your system, forcing your eyes down in disbelief, surprise, his chair creaking in the night. Your breath stops in your chest, and then there’s a hand smoothing over your forehead, as he leans past you to brush his lips against Johnny’s, and then rough stubble presses against your cheek with a jagged whisper.

“Sweet dreams, little dove.”

#peaches writes #dub con #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghoap x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #Ghoap #soap x reader

1K notes · View notes

lanadelnegan · 6 months ago

Text

Tattoo - part 2 (final)

Teacher!Negan x F!Reader

Summary: After your art teacher gives you a tattoo that will always remind you of him, he wants a matching one. But he wants you to give it to him.. while you "give it to him."

Warnings: 18+, smut, age-gap, p in v, blowjob, teacher-student relationship, giving Negan a tattoo while you ride him, (if teacher-student relationships and/or age-gaps are not your thing, please do not read.)

Part one here

Finally posting this after a century! Sorry it took so long. xx

“Are you insane?!” I stood with the tattoo gun in my hand, mouth dropped open as I watched him get comfortable on the leather couch. He sat shirtless with his legs spread perfectly apart.

“Probably.” He grinned, flashing his pretty teeth and deeply ingrained dimples that I've become obsessed with over the years.

“Seriously.. Negan.. I’ve never tattooed someone before, obviously, and-“

His head fell to the side as if he didn't want to hear my excuses. “You’ve taken my art class four times. More than any other student at that damn school. Did you learn anything, or were you too busy fantasizing about the teacher?" He smirked.

"... I didn't learn how to give someone a tattoo."

"No different than drawing, baby."

"I can barely do that." I shrugged. "Why did you even pass me?"

Negan let out a chuckle, leaning his head back against the couch for a moment. "I think we both know the answer to that." We both fell silent as I looked unsure about what he was asking me to do.

“I’ll start it. Would that make you feel better?” He asked. I nodded, knowing there’s no way I could do this by myself.

“Hand me that pen over there?” He nodded towards his desk. I grabbed a purple outline pen to give him and he took the cap off with his teeth before easily drawing the most perfect baseball bat I've ever seen on his chest right about his left nipple. He tossed the pen aside and started the tattoo gun, bringing it close to his chest.

“Stop.” I blurted. “You don’t have to do this.”

Negan scrunched his brows at me. “I don’t do anything I don’t wanna do, sweetheart.” He said before carving a small line over the purple outline on his skin, not flinching an ounce. He stopped after making a small mark on his skin, then handed me the tattoo gun while patting his lap for me to sit.

He can’t seriously want me to sit in his lap while I permanently mark his body.

“Take your clothes off first, baby. Give me something to look at while we do this.”

I sat the tattoo gun to the side before slowly undressing for him until I was completely bare and cold, shivering in front of him.

“Mm, so fucking beautiful.” He praised, seeing my perky nipples on display for him. I noticed the straining bulge in his pants before I even sat down. I straddled him carefully and settled into his lap while facing him, cautiously holding the tattoo gun in my hand.

“You got this, darlin’.” He encouraged me, probably because I looked like I could faint any second. Sitting in my hot teacher's lap and tattooing his chest wasn’t something I thought I'd ever do.

“What if-“ I started but he cut me off.

“I don’t care.” He said in almost a whisper. “You could draw little hearts and fuckin' butterflies all over me, and I wouldn’t care as long as you’re hovering that sweet pussy over me. The tat? Is the last thing on my mind right now, doll.”

With that, I brought it to his skin and began making a line before I could talk to myself out of it. I felt Negan’s eyes burning into me, and his face was close enough to mine for me to smell the mint and tobacco on his mouth. Negan let out a breath that resembled a moan when the needle tore through his flesh.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, continuing my surprisingly impressive line.

"No." His voice was hoarse and raspy. "Feels fucking good."

I felt the bulge in his pants grow bigger underneath me and wanted to grind against him but couldn't move without possibly messing up. Negan watched me intensely before I felt his hand drift down to my center. I shivered when he ran a finger through my wet slit and saw him smirk out of the corner of my eye.

"Negan. I need to be still. I'm not messing this up."

"Then be still, darlin'. Don't mind me." I heard the zipper of his pants and glanced at him, giving him a silent warning that whatever he was about to do wasn't a good idea.

Negan grabbed my wrist gently and I pulled my hand away from his chest as he lifted my hips slightly and guided me over his length. I sat down completely, taking him so deep that it hurt.

"Negan.." I moaned, and he moaned with me, keeping us still and not moving while his cock was all the way inside me.

"Finish what you started, baby." He said, gesturing to the tattoo gun still in my hand. Hesitantly I started again, going slower this time. I felt his cock twitch inside me when the needle hit his skin, and almost whimpered at how full he made me feel, pressing tightly into my walls.

"You never answered my question, doll."

"Hm?" I asked, focusing on the tattoo and trying to ignore the throbbing sensation in my cunt.

"Did you learn anything in my class?"

I smiled for a moment, thinking of a clever answer. "Of course. I learned that.. I wanted you. Safe to say I did more fantasizing than listening to you yap about art, although listening to your deep voice did help with the fantasies." I giggled.

"Yeah?" He asked, tightening his grip on my hips as he fought the urge to thrust his hips upwards. "What exactly did you fantasize about, doll?"

"So much. But.. my favorite was thinking of you bending me over your desk. Or sucking your cock underneath your desk while others were around and had no idea."

"Fuuck." Negan breathed out heavily as he rested his head back against the couch. "Keep going, baby. I want to hear more."

"I would always stare at the front of your pants."

"I noticed." He chuckled.

"And I'd imagine what it looked like. How big you were."

"Yeah? What do you think? Was it what you imagined?"

"Bigger." I said truthfully, getting close to being finished with the tattoo.

"Sweetheart, I need you to hurry the fuck up and finish. My dick is gonna fucking explode if I don't move soon."

"Already done." I pulled the gun back and smiled, admiring my work and being pleasantly surprised. "Take a look."

Negan ripped the gun out of my hand and tossed it on the floor. "Later. Bounce on my fuckin' dick, now." He said desperately as he adjusted himself lower on the couch.

I happily obeyed him, placing my hands on his shoulders, being careful not to touch his reddening pecs. It felt so good to finally move up and down on his cock, so I dropped my head back and rode him fast and hard while my tits bounced in his face.

Negan leaned forward and took my nipple into his mouth, slurping around it and groaning as I fucked him. I screamed out, knowing we were the only ones there and I could be as loud as I wanted.

"Fuuuck, baby." He said breathlessly, leaning back again and looking up at me. "You look so fuckin' pretty with my dick inside you." His thumb dug into my hips, brushing against my fresh tattoo that now matched his own.

"Negan! I'm gonna cum!" I cried out, letting my orgasm rip through me while my legs shook and collapsed until I sank all the way down on him again, not able to hold myself up.

"Goddamn! Look at the mess you made all over me." He said proudly and I looked down between us, seeing the pool of wetness where our bodies were connected.

"Sorry.." I said, blushing.

He hummed, looking up at you. "I don't believe you. Why don't you get on your knees and clean up your mess? Show daddy how sorry you are?"

He kissed me before I climbed off his lap and onto my knees in the floor, settling between his spread legs. His cock stood tall between his legs and I finally got a chance to admire it. Wrapping my hand around it, I stroked him slowly, studying every vein in his impressive length. I imagined the sight of this for so long, and I wanted to enjoy it.

Pushing his hard cock away, I dipped my head between his crotch and sucked one of his large balls into my mouth, moaning around it. Negan's leg twitched at the sudden sensitivity as he gently wrapped his hand in my hair.

"Shit, baby. Been awhile since someone's had my balls in their mouth. Forgot how - oh, fuck - how good it feels."

I gave the other one some attention before finally licking up his shaft until I reached the tip, wrapping my mouth firmly around his thick head. He tasted like a mix of my pussy and his precum and it was the most heavenly thing I had ever experienced. I savored it as I took him as far as I could in the back of my throat, gagging slightly before pulling back. I continued this for awhile, taking turns sucking and stroking him until my mouth was dripping with spit and his dick was soaked.

"Ohhh fuck, baby, you ready for my cum?" He said quickly, guiding my head back to his cock. He let out a loud, strained groan as I felt him empty himself down my throat. I moaned around him, not pulling away until every drop was swallowed.

Negan leaned down, wrapping his hand around my throat and pulling me towards him for a kiss. I slipped my tongue in his mouth, letting him taste us and his eyes fluttered shut.

"I should have failed you." He signed when he finally broke away from the kiss.

"What? Why?"

"Art won't be the same without you. I dunno if I want to teach anymore now that you're graduating."

"Don't be silly. You've always loved art."

Negan chuckled, pulling me into his lap again. "No.. I've always loved you."

Tag list: (let me know if you wanted to be added to my future negan fic tag list)

@loganlostitall @chaospossum @negansbabydoll66 @redqueenphoenix @n3g5nx @crustyweirdo @youngpersonaathletebear @sadgirlzluvdilfs @ilovebill-and-gustav @neganscumbucket @manipulatorpoem @im-a-goddamn-cat @raininhell @mahogany-cherry-wine @daryldixmedown @munsonslovergirl @sanctuaryforthelost @thelauraborealis @carlgrimesbbg @c3linesworld @blueheisenbergtragedy @startwinklekitty @darlingmadelinee @oceandeepthirst @jschlattsqtip @lavenderchai @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @neganswoman @n7crophiliac @cats-writing @alldevilsarehere90 @natykacenka @queermilfs @stasiaangelsinner @lupa-03 @sadgirlzluvdilfs @pamago-bb @javier-penas-wifexx420 @motelprincess444 @thatonefroggirl @myhappyplaceofstuff @darlingmadelinee @used2beee @easystreet07 @princess-23-xoxo @twdxtrevor

657 notes · View notes

pulisicsgirl · 5 months ago

Text

in my hour of need - mason mount

summary: eight months after the end of their relationship, Y/N and Mason find themselves at the same event—a charity gala—and the night’s events leave them both unsure of where they stand with each other

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count: 8.4k

warnings/tags: inappropriate joke is made about the reader, angst, self-doubt, exes-to-lovers, hurt/comfort (hee hee hee), ends with fluff of course don’t worry, lots of crying involved along the way

requested: no

based off of this concept from @mountttmase and @saltyheartnightmare

A/N: I’m so excited to finally have a fic ready to post for y’all again!!! I’ve literally been working on this one for the last three months, so it’s definitely a relief to put it out there! This is set during the TFSL gala that Mason attended back at the beginning of March, so some things might be a bit”outdated” by now… I hope yall enjoy!!!

Seeing Mason tonight had been more difficult than you had anticipated.

Eight months had passed since the fairly amicable breakup between the two of you. Things had ended on fairly good terms, but it had been the little things that built up that had led to the end of your relationship. Between Mason’s injury along with the situation at United and new, huge career opportunities that had arisen for you in the last year, the two of you seemed to be in completely different places in your lives. It seemed like you barely saw each other for a few minutes after you woke up in the morning and a few minutes before you fell asleep at night.

In the end, the disconnect was too much, and the two of you agreed to end things before they could get ugly.

You were thankful to have avoided the period of fighting and bickering that you knew would inevitably come with the track that you and Mason were on. Your relationship with him had many fond memories attached to it, and you didn’t want to see those tainted by a messy breakup. But every day that passed, you missed waking up in his bed, being by his side, spending time with him— all of it.

The two of you had tried your best to remain friends, truly. You had texted back and forth a bit, doing your best to keep up with each other’s lives and keep each other updated. You met for coffee about three weeks after the split, but after that your communication had quickly fallen off. You wondered if, like you, Mason had realized that trying to maintain a friendship had grown too painful. If, like you, it was killing him to have you sitting across from him and not be able to hold you, to kiss you, to call you his.

But there was no way for you to know— the two of you hadn’t spoken since.

It hadn’t come as a surprise that he was making an appearance at the charity gala. After all, it was him that had connected you with Together For Short Lives, the organization that Mason had a long-standing relationship with and also the organization benefitting from tonight’s events. Mason’s passion for the charity and its work had sparked something within you, and you had quickly pulled some strings to get your workplace involved with it as well— all of this while you were still together.

So when your boss told you about his contribution to the charity gala and has asked you to be the representative for the business at the auction itself, you knew that seeing Mason would be inevitable.

But it’s been eight months since the split—seven since you last saw him. Surely, you’d be fine by now, you had thought.

Unfortunately, you had thought wrong.

The first glimpse of him in the sleek black suit had sent a sharp pang through your chest, a wave of emotions crashing over you. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed and the softness of it immediately made you think of how it felt when you would run your fingers through it, or the scratch of his beard when you would cradle his jaw in your palm. His shoulders seemed to have grown broader, if that was even possible. His eyes looked brighter, and he seemed far more well-rested than you had seen him in the months leading up to your breakup.

And then the terrifying thought had hit you.

Maybe he was better off without you.

Maybe the breakup had been good for him. Maybe you had been the thing draining him in the last months of your relationship.

You felt the tears spring to your eyes as soon as the thought crossed your mind, blinking them away quickly.

But the thought continued to plague you as the night went on. There were a thousand things that were making you feel unsure of yourself and the thought that your relationship with Mason had actually been detrimental to him was just the cherry on top.

This just wasn’t the kind of event you usually found yourself at, even less a setting that you felt comfortable in. You would much prefer a quite night in or the opportunity to fade into the background. When you had been with Mason, you found yourself at a few events like this one, but you always had him at your side. Often you would allow him to navigate the evening for you, so you didn’t even have to think about anything. Tonight, instead of standing next to you so you cold hold tightly onto his arm when you felt unsteady, he was 100 feet away, engaged in conversation with someone else.

To make matters worse, you had asked a friend of yours to help you find and choose a dress for the evening, and she had insisted you would look and feel great in this elegant, low-cut, dark green dress that had an open back. At the time, she had convinced you that the piece complimented your figure and would make you feel confident and sexy. However, it was completely out of your comfort zone, and you regretted your decision to listen to her as you tugged on parts of the dress to try to cover yourself up more throughout the night.

Between the unfamiliar environment, the dress, and Mason’s presence, everything left you feeling quite unsure of yourself.

When you reached your seating assignment, you were relieved to see that you were familiar with a few of the individuals that were sitting at your table—acquaintances that worked for the same company as you who, no doubt, were also sent as representatives for the charity gala. The relief was short-lived, however, when you realized that, directly in front of you, a mere two tables over, Mason’s seat was directly in your line of sight.

You did your best to sink into the shadows, allowing conversation to flow around you without making any contribution, unless someone directly asked you a question. You also tried your hardest not to look over at Mason— this sight of him happily engaging in conversation, seemingly unaffected by your presence, was too much for your heart to handle.

A wave of relief washed over you when someone got up on the stage, removing any pressure to engage in conversation at the table as everyone turned their attention to the announcer. He spoke a bit about Together for Short Lives and the work that they did, soon announcing that it was time for the items to be auctioned off.

Some of the auction items piqued your interest, seeming like items or experiences that you thought you might enjoy. But any sort of intrigue faded when you heard the amounts of money that some of the gala’s patrons were volunteering for them, quickly realizing you were way out of your depth in this room of people.

Before too long, the announcer introduced a “Manchester United Experience,” involving a tour of the team’s facility, accompanied by the team’s star boy himself. Mason approached the stage, walking up the short flight of stairs as applause rang throughout the room. You didn’t hear much of the discussion of the experience as you got caught up in watching Mason and the playful way he interacted with the announcer and the crowd. His silly boyishness sent a pang through your heart, missing the playful way he used to interact with you.

You could’ve sworn his eyes caught yours as they swept the room, and you flashed him a short, forced smile as a sort of sign of goodwill. You weren’t exactly sure where the two of you stood, but you wanted to show him that you didn’t harbor any negative feelings toward him, despite the loss of contact.

The faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips before he turned his attention back to the announcer who had just asked him a question— one that Mason had to ask him to repeat.

Soon Mason was leaving the stage, having earned an ungodly amount of money for TFSL with his promised tour of Old Trafford.

A sick feeling settled in your gut, knowing it couldn’t be much longer before your company’s contribution was auctioned off. The mere thought of stepping onto that stage sent a rush of fear through your veins.

Before you knew it, you found yourself standing to the side of the stage, awaiting your queue to join the announcer on it. Your palms felt sweaty, your heart racing as you tried your best to compose yourself. Applause rang through the room, and you put all of your focus into not tripping as you walked up the stairs.

The room felt ten times bigger from atop the stage, filled with many more people than you had realized were in attendance. You tried to focus on smiling and nodding at the appropriate moments as the announcer explained what your company was auctioning off.

“And of course, we’re very appreciative of Miss… uhm…”

“Y/L/N,” you spoke quietly as the announcer trailed off.

“Yes, we’re very appreciative of Miss Y/L/N being here with us tonight,” the announcer resumed his charismatic personality after it had faltered briefly. “She’s certainly doing her part to raise money for a good cause. I mean, with this much skin on show, that has to be worth a few extra pounds on your bid, right?”

Your stomach sank to your feet as laughter erupted in the large room. You felt the heat in your cheeks, your smile faltering at his words. You suddenly felt ten times more self-conscious of yourself as you stood on the stage, feeling like a zoo animal being laid bare and displayed for everyone’s entertainment.

“With that, we’re going to start the bidding off at…” The announcers voice faded as the room felt like it was closing in on you. Your eyes flicked through the crowd, jumping from face to face until you found the one you were looking for— Mason.

While everyone else seemed to still be composing themselves from the eruption of laughter at the joke the announcer had made at your expense, Mason’s eyes met yours with the saddest expression you though you had ever seen. You could just barely make out his lips mouthing the words it’s okay, you’re okay, before your misty eyes could no longer make out his face.

You composed yourself just long enough for the announcer to finish off the auction, and you offered him a forced smile before you rushed off of the stage.

All you knew was that you needed to be anywhere but this room. You needed to get out, away from all of the people who had just witnessed your very public humiliation.

You made a beeline toward the back of the large hall that everyone was seated in, spotting the double doors that you knew led out to the hallway. Your heels click on the floor as you push through the doors and find the exit out to the decorative garden off of the side of the building being used for the gala. Thinking a bit of fresh air would do you good, you rushed outside, ignoring the chill that rushed through you as the cold air met your skin. Moving quickly away from the building, you ducked behind some hedges in the hope that no one would see you.

Your breathing was heavy as you tried your best to dampen the emotions welling up inside of you. Your throat felt tight as you fought back the tears of embarrassment, frustration, and regret. Forcing yourself to breath slowly, in through your nose and out through your mouth, you did your best to wipe gently at the corners of your eyes, praying that you wouldn’t ruin the makeup you had done only a few hours before.

“Y/N?” you heard a voice call from around the corner. Your heart sank as you recognized the gentle tone and the footsteps let you know that he was close. This was surely not the circumstances you had hoped to be in when you spoke to him for the first time in months.

You turned your back just in time for Mason to round the corner and find you hiding away in your little nook. There was nothing you hated more than the idea of letting him see you cry in this moment.

“Y/N, love-“

“I’m fine, Mason.” Your voice came out harsher than you had meant for it to. “Really, I’m okay. Just go back to the auction.”

Undeterred by the way you had spoken, Mason took a couple of steps closer to you. “No, you’re not, Y/N. I know you better than that.”

You couldn’t respond, and you knew he hadn’t missed the small sniffle you had let out as you bit your lip to keep it from trembling.

It was only a moment before you felt his fingers gently take hold of your arm, turning you to face him. Your head was bowed low, still unwilling to let him see your misty eyes.

“C’mere, love,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your torso as he pulled you in for a tight hug. You couldn’t keep yourself from returning the gesture, your arms wrapped under his as you pressed your palms into his broad back to hold him close. You tucked your face into his neck and suddenly, your heart felt more settled than it had in months.

“He had no right to say anything like that— about you or about anyone,” Mason mumbled into your hair, pressing a barely-there kiss to your temple. “It was completely inappropriate, and you have every right to feel upset. I’m so sorry.”

He brought a hand up to cradle the back of your head, holding you closer to him. You didn’t fight it at all, settling into him more and taking comfort in the proximity.

When he could tell that your breathing had steadied, Mason pulled back, still holding you with one arm as he looked down at you with a soft smile.

“There she is.” He brought his free hand up, brushing his thumb gently under your eyes to wipe away a tear that had fallen. The gesture was so gentle and intimate that you felt like your knees were about to give out, thankful that he still had one arm around you to steady you. “Whatever waterproof makeup you’re using is working because you still look perfect,” he joked, warmth flooding through him at the soft giggle you let out before dropping your forehead onto his chest.

“For the record, your dress is beautiful,” Mason said softly. You knew he must have sensed your discomfort with how much skin you had on show, even before the gala announcer had made any comment about it. “And, in the least creepy, predatory way possible, you look amazing tonight.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, wanting to convey your gratitude to him while trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his words. The one thing you did like about the mostly open back of the dress is that you could feel Mason’s palm flattened directly against your skin as he held you close, his thumb rubbing back and forth in soothing motions. This, combined with the look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place as he looked down at you, made your skin feel like it was on fire, the heat rising up your neck and into your cheeks.

You brought your hands to his chest, holding the lapels of his jacket in your hand before you spoke quietly. “We should go back inside before anyone realizes we’ve gone.” You felt suddenly overwhelmed by the interaction with him, feeling yourself falling back into old habits without even intending to.

Mason unwound his hands from your waist, seeming a bit discouraged by your comment as he merely nodded, holding his arm out for you to take. You did so, holding onto his elbow to keep yourself steady as he led you back inside.

It was quiet between the two of you, neither sure what to say to the other after the intimate moment in the garden. Once back inside you squeezed his elbow gently, saying, “I’m gonna go freshen up really quickly, but I’ll see you back out there,” with a gentle smile. Mason nodded, letting you step away from him and into the bathroom.

In truth, while you did feel a need to freshen up a bit after the tears you had shed outside, you needed a moment to collect yourself— not because of the auction announcer’s comments, but because of Mason.

You stood at the small sink in the ladies’ room, watching yourself in the mirror as you tried to stop the way your head seemed to be spinning. The last time you had seen Mason was seven months ago, engaged in stiff conversation because neither of you knew how to speak to each other after the breakup. But now, he had come to your rescue without a second thought and held you as if the breakup had never even happened.

And it felt right…

You shook your head, telling yourself not to read too much into it— Mason is a caring person and just because he ran to your side when someone had said something hurtful about you doesn’t mean he wants you back. You were self-aware enough to recognize that you had a tendency to let your thoughts run away with you, and you did your best to shut it down before it got out of hand.

At the same time, Mason’s mind was also running wild. His brain felt as if it was under some sort of fog, intoxicated by the feeling of being able to touch your skin again. He was like an addict who had quit, cold turkey, some months ago, and the first taste of your proximity had nearly done him in. He couldn’t stop thinking of how it felt to be so close to you again— to feel your weight against his body, to smell your shampoo that was still the same, to hear your soft voice, muffled by his own neck, your gentle breaths fanning over his skin.

He was worried that maybe he had been too forward— maybe you hadn’t wanted him to run after you. He didn’t want you to think he felt like he needed to rescue you from every poor situation, but after hearing the announcer’s comments and seeing the way it had so clearly upset you (even though everyone else seemed to have overlooked it), he knew he couldn’t just let you be on your own.

He been wary of overwhelming you, but it felt right to pull you into his arms out in the garden. It felt right to hold you close to him and rub gentle, soothing circles into your back with his thumb, the way he’d always done before.

Mason felt unsure of himself. He worried that your hurry to get back inside was to get away from him. He pondered with the idea of going back into the gala so it didn’t seem like he was hovering. But he battled with himself internally, thinking that you may not have wanted to be left to your own devices.

He hated that the months he had spent apart from you had robbed him of his ability to read you. He just wished he could figure out what was going on in your head.

In the bathroom, if you hadn’t had a full face of makeup on, you would’ve taken this opportunity to splash your face with cold water. However, a few deep breaths while you told yourself to get it together would have to do, and you exited the bathroom, planning to find your way back to your table and leave as soon as the event was over. It would be best, you thought, to not engage too much with Mason to avoid getting your hopes up before they were inevitably crushed.

Those plans were cut short the moment you stepped out of the bathroom and into the building’s foyer. There, Mason was waiting for you, and your stomach did a flip at the soft smile that took over his face when he lifted his head and saw you.

A wave of relief that you hadn’t expected washed over you at the sight of him waiting there.

“It sounds like they’ve wrapped up the auction in there.” Mason jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing toward the large hall that you had fled from just a bit ago. You could hear the sound of loud conversation and laughter, signaling that Mason was, indeed correct, and the guests would be starting to exit the hall soon.

Unsure of what you were meant to say, you were thankful when Mason spoke up again. “Look, I’m here, and you’re welcome to stick with me if you’re still feeling a bit overwhelmed, but if you want me to just leave you be, I understa-”

“No, please,” you rushed to cut him off, the thought of having the face the room full of people before you alone sending a feeling of dread down your spine. “I mean… I just… can I just walk with you?” Your voice was small when you spoke again, feeling pathetic for being incapable of facing an event without him by your side.

A warm feeling spread across Mason’s chest at your words, feeling a sense of pride that his presence made you feel even a little bit safer in the unfamiliar environment. Wordlessly, he offered his arm to you again, a reassuring smile on his lips.

As much as you wanted to portray yourself as an independent person who was able to take care of yourself, you had to admit that the rest of the evening felt much easier with Mason at your side. It was so easy to slip back into the same old routine—everyone wanted to talk to the star footballer, and you were happy to stand quietly at his side while he shook hands and unleashed his irresistible charm on each one.

Mason kept you close to him at all times, and the warmth of him settled your nerves tremendously. The gentle placement of his hand on your lower back sent tingles up your spine every time, and it took everything in you not to wrap your arms around his waist, afraid of overstepping.

It wasn’t much longer before Mason was leaning down, mumbling in your ear to ask if you were ready to leave. He knew this wasn’t your scene at all and had been looking for an opportunity to get you out of there since the two of you had stepped back into the gathering hall.

You had to hold back a shiver as his breath fanned over your neck, nodding in response. You let him know you just had to pop over to your table to grab your things and he nodded, following as you led the way.

Once you had retrieved your clutch and bid as quick of a goodbye as you could muster to those that were still lingering at your table, you and Mason turned to leave, heading back toward the set of doors you had entered through. The hall had grown more crowded, and as you weaved between tables, you allowed Mason to grasp your hand, leading the way through the sea of people so you wouldn’t be separated.

As you entered the foyer, Mason tugged you forward gently so that you returned to his side. The two of you exchanged a short smile.

“Is your hotel close by?” you asked, trying to make a bit of small talk as the two of you walked toward the exit.

When the bridge of Mason’s nose went red, a shy but unsure smile on his face, you slapped a hand over your face, realizing the double meaning of your question.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you felt the heat in your face as you, no doubt, were turning bright red. “I was just trying to make small talk. Clearly, I’m not good at it.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Mason couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Uh, I’m actually making the drive back to Manchester tonight. We’ve got training tomorrow morning, so I’ve got to get home.” Mason reached the door, holding it open for you. “What about you? Are you nearby?”

“Yeah, actually.” The two of you reached the sidewalk in front of the building, coming to a stop as you turned toward each other. “I’m supposed to be a hotel just a bit that way.” You pointed behind him, toward the accommodations that your job was paying for.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you.

“You know… you’re welcome to tag along back to Manchester with me, if you wanted to. I could use the company to keep me awake.” Mason smiled softly at you, remembering how much you hated staying in hotels.

“Don’t you have Lewis or someone with you? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Mason shook his head in response, mumbling a quiet, “just me.” He was subtly rocking back and forth on his feet, and you could tell he was nervous about your answer.

Getting to go home, rather than sleeping in an uncomfortable hotel bed did sound pretty nice after the turn your night had taken.

Mason watched your eyebrows furrow in thought, an anxious feeing settling in his tummy as he awaited your response.

“You’re sure?”

Mason did his best to conceal the excitement he felt at the idea of getting to spend a couple more hours with you. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he whispered. “Come on, you and I both know you won’t get any sleep in that hotel bed.”

You couldn’t deny that he was right.

It wasn’t long before you were ducking into the passenger seat of Mason’s car, making sure the bottom of your dress was all the way in before Mason closed the door behind you.

The drive started out quiet, neither of you sure how to navigate the situation that you found yourself in. But as soon as you asked Mason about the FA Cup quarterfinal win over Liverpool where he had made his return following injury, his face lit up and things felt like they were almost back to normal.

You did your best to keep the topic of conversation on Mason and his life, not wanting to speak about yourself. Any time he seemed to be coming to the end of one topic, you were sure to ask another question before he had the chance to ask one to you.

Because, truth be told, life had been nothing but dull since the two of you had parted ways. Seeing him tonight was the most interesting thing to happen to you since… well, since the last time you’d seen him.

It was no secret that the transition to Manchester had been difficult for the both of you. There was no doubt it had contributed to the ending of your relationship. Leaving behind your friends, your old flat, and all of the things you had known had been no easy task. Thankfully, you had been able to stay in the same line of work, merely transferring to a new location. But you had struggled to adjust to the new, unfamiliar city, even more so when you didn’t have Mason at your side. Weekend visits back to London to visit your old friends were all that had kept you going in the last months.

As you listened to Mason telling stories of all of the fun things he had gotten up to with the boys on the team that he had grown closer with, the self-doubt creeped back in. He seemed to be doing so much better since the two of you called things off, and again your mind told you that maybe he was better off without you.

Mason noticed the change in your demeanor almost immediately. The car grew quiet, and you sat with your head leaned against the window, watching the lights as they passed. It may have been months since he last saw you, but he could recognize the signs of you overthinking from a mile away, unsure of whether it was about the announcer’s comments from earlier in the night or the fact that you were sitting in a car with him.

Wanting to provide a bit of reassurance, Mason reached over, taking your hand in his, bringing it up to his face, and pressing a quick kiss to the back of it. He placed your hand back in your lap, moving to put his back on the steering wheel, but your grip tightened slightly to prevent him from doing so. Your head remained pressed against the glass, but the small gesture brought a smile to Mason’s face as he shifted to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Mason didn’t press you for conversation, allowing you the space to process the events of the night however you needed to. Before long, Mason heard the soft sound of your deep, steady breathing, and a quick glance in your direction revealed that you had drifted off to sleep, your hand relaxed in his. The dull ache that had settled in his chest all night grew a bit sharper as he stole a few glances in your direction, admiring the peaceful expression on your face.

As much as he tried to hide it, as much as he tried to put on a brave face and talk about all of the amazing things that had been going on in his like recently, he couldn’t deny…

He missed you.

He missed having you like this, at his side at the end of a long day. He missed the feeling of ease that washed over him just by knowing you were close by and being able to have that same effect on you. He missed catching up with you at the end of the day, instead of trying to accurately recap the seven months that had passed since he’d last seen you.

He just missed you being in his life and had spent the last eight months trying to find out how to get you back in it.

You were jostled awake as you heard the sound of a car door closing. You sat up straight, blinking your eyes a few times as you tried your best to figure out where you were. You recognized the interior of Mason’s car, a flash of confusion running through you before the memories of the night came flooding back in.

The car door at your side opened, Mason appearing at your side as he crouched down, offering you the gentlest of smiles.

“Hey there, love,” he spoke softly, and the kind look in his eyes made your heart flutter. “You fell asleep on the way back, and I realized I don’t know where your new flat is.”

The little flutter of your heart quickly died, the reality of your failed relationship crashing back in after you had been able to put it to the back of your mind for much of the night since Mason had come to your aid.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry,” you shook your head, reaching for your bag to pull out your phone. “I’ll just order a car, I’m so sor-”

“Don’t be silly, just stay here. I’ve got some extra things you can use, and I’m going into training late tomorrow anyway, so I can drop you at home on my way,” Mason smiled at you, and the way his eyes shone hopefully meant you wouldn’t need much convincing, whispering a soft “okay” in reply.

Mason took your hand, helping you out of the car and leading you inside as you wiped your bleary eyes. He led you to his room, releasing your hand as he wandered through the room, laying out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants for you to wear. He wandered to the bathroom for a few moments. When he emerged, you watched with confusion as he collected a few things in his hands and walked toward his door.

“You can sleep in here tonight. I still had some of your skincare products left over from before, so they’re out on the counter,” he smiled at you. “I’ll just be in the guest room, if you need anything.”

His generosity caught you off-guard, and before you could come up with a response, he placed a quick kiss to the top of your head and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

You stood in the middle of the room for a moment, just looking around, taking it all in. You never would have suspected that you’d find yourself here again, and you couldn’t wrap your head around the turn that this night had taken.

Finally snapping yourself out of it, you slipped out of your dress, pulling Mason’s shirt over your head. The scent of his cologne mixed with the laundry detergent he always used brought a wave of emotion crashing over you, and your lower lip wobbled as you walked into the bathroom.

Along with a spare toothbrush that he had set out for you, all of your skincare products were lined up on the counter, and the thought that he had held onto them for you after all this time was what finally caused the tears the spill down your cheeks, the emotions of the night finally catching up with you.

When you crawled into the bed, face washed and feeling fresher after the long night, you allow the tears to flow, pressing your face into Mason’s pillow.

All of it was so overwhelming. Seeing him again after so long. How unsure you had felt of yourself throughout the night. Being humiliated in front of an entire audience. The way Mason had run to your side without a moment’s hesitation. The way it had felt so natural to fall back into conversation with him, to touch him, for him to touch you. Being back in the house that you had once shared with him.

It was all too much.

Not even 30 feet away, Mason was lying on his back in the guest bed, eyes wide open as he stared at the ceiling. There was no way he was falling asleep any time soon, the thought of you in his bed only a few steps away enough to keep him awake.

After an hour had passed, accompanied by only his racing thoughts, Mason toyed with the idea of sneaking down to his room to see if you were awake. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to you, and he felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t get to say them soon.

But he thought better of it, guessing that you were probably already asleep, and he didn’t want to disturb you.

However, Mason had guessed wrong. Instead, you were lying on your side, legs tucked up close to your body, staring at the small, framed photo of the two of you on Mason’s side table. It had always been there during your relationship, and the thought that he had kept it in the time since you had split brought such a weight of sadness over you that you felt sick.

Did he miss you the way you missed him? Did he, too, regret not fighting harder for your relationship with every day that passed?

The thought kept you awake until the early hours of the morning.

When Mason awoke the next morning, a heavy exhaustion weighed on him as he had only slept a few hours, tossing and turning the entire time. He crawled out of bed and slipped a shirt over his head, his feet padding softly on the carpeted floor as he moved down the hallway to check on you. He noticed that the door to his room was already open, and when he peeked his head in, you were nowhere to be found.

From the way the blankets were shifted, Mason could tell that you had slept on his side of the bed, and his chest tightened at the thought.

The sound of clinking pots and pans coming from the kitchen caused Mason’s ears to perk up and led him in that direction.

As Mason rounded the corner, he found you, with your back facing him, standing in front of the oven. Your hair, falling across your shoulders, still held some of the curl that you had done for the event the night prior. Mason’s heart clenched at the sight of you in his shirt and a pair of his sweatpants.

A few pans and bowls were scattered across the stovetop and counters, and Mason recognized all of the components of the hearty breakfast you used to make when both of you had the day off. The combination of smells was so specific, and the déjà vu nearly made him dizzy.

You turned around, reaching for a bowl on the counter and jumped slightly when you saw Mason there.

“Sorry,” he breathed, still at a bit of a loss for words. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.”

You just gave him a small smile and a short “s’okay” as you turned back to the stove. “Sorry if I woke you.” Your voice sounded so small—Mason hated it. He hated the tension that hung in the air between the two of you. He hated the fact that you had nearly become strangers to each other.

In the hours that you had spent, lying awake with your thoughts running wild in Mason’s bed, you had resolved to avoid complicating things further than they already had been. Things were awkward enough between the two of you after Mason had graciously come to the rescue, despite the ending of your relationship, and you were determined to make it home without making it worse.

You owed it to yourself— your feelings for Mason were still there, hidden just beneath the surface. But you refused to put yourself out there and put your heart through that pain again.

You wished you had it in you to be cold with him, completely cutting off any chance of rekindling something between the two of you— any risk of getting your hopes up. But you knew Mason, and you knew that he often wore his heart on his sleeve, and you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him like that, either.

But despite your resolve and determination, the sorrow-filled gaze in Mason’s eyes had already begun to pierce through the armor that you had put around your heart.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Mason slipped into one of the chairs on the opposite side of the island countertop. His eyes followed you as you finished preparing the last of the breakfast. You dished out two plates— a portion for yourself and another, larger portion for Mason.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know?” Mason spoke softly as you set the plate in front of him.

You shrugged, standing on the opposite side of the island from him as you stared down at your own plate. “It’s the least I could do. It’s your food anyway,” you mumbled, poking at your eggs with a fork, suddenly feeling too sick to eat anything.

“Well, thank you, Y/N,” Mason said, earnestly. “I really appreciate it.”

Mason couldn’t help but feel discouraged by your stony demeanor. He had hoped that after the night prior, the two of you might be on the right path to sorting things out between you, but now he wasn’t so sure.

He kept stealing quick glances at you as he ate, savoring every delicious bite. But he could tell how uneasy you felt as you stood there, tucking your hair behind your ear as you took small bites from your plate.

The tension was thick as the two of you ate in silence, neither one sure how to even begin the conversation. Did you talk about last night, or leave the topic untouched?

The longer the silence stretched between the two of you, the heavier the weight on your heart grew. As much as you had tried not to get your hopes up, and as many times as you told yourself that your relationship with Mason was well and truly over, a small part of you had still hoped that he would say something this morning— anything, really. That small part of you wanted to believe that this chance encounter was the key—a sign that the two of you needed to find your way back to each other.

But despite it all, the spark that you had hoped was still there seemed to have been snuffed out.

You kept your eyes glued to your plate, afraid that Mason would see them shining with tears and start asking questions. You didn’t want him to think you were pathetic— needing him to rescue you the night before and now here, standing in his kitchen, crying because he didn’t want you back.

You took a breath and steeled yourself to pack up your things from his room and get the fastest Uber back home you could manage.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you scraped the last of your food into the trashcan, no longer able to stomach another bite, and placed the empty dish in the sink. You left the kitchen as quickly as you could, trying to hide your face from Mason as the first tears fell.

Mason was taken by surprise at your sudden rush to leave the room, the noise a stark contrast to the silence that had hung thick in the air. He watched your back as you walked out without so much as a glance in his direction.

His stomach sank. He had hoped, after lying awake all night thinking of you, that you had been cooking breakfast for him as a sort of sign—a signal that you wanted to talk things over again and revisit the topic of him and you. But the unpleasant aura that had remained between the two of you while you ate had gotten you no closer to that conversation.

Maybe he had read too far into things. Maybe the breakfast had just been a ‘thank you’ for driving you back to Manchester last night. Maybe he had pushed too far and inviting you to stay at his was too much, too soon.

Mason pushed his plate away from him, dropping his head into his hands and huffing a sigh as he felt his eyes burn with tears that surprised him. He hadn’t realized just how much the last 24 hours had gotten his hopes up for reigniting a relationship with you until you seemed to have walked away from it altogether.

It was almost like he could feel his heart breaking all over again.

But no, Mason resolved. He refused to let you walk away from him again, not until he had fully expressed to you how deeply he missed you, how much he still cared for you.

With renewed determination, Mason stood from his chair and nearly ran to his bedroom.

Standing outside of his own bedroom door, Mason hesitated for a moment, again overthinking his decision to confront the issue head-on.

But that didn’t last for more than a second before he was tapping his knuckles gently on the door three times.

“You can come in,” he heard your small voice.

When he opened the door, slowly, he found you just returning from the bathroom, several of your own items in hand. As you attempted to collect all of your things, Mason didn’t miss the tear you tried to inconspicuously wipe from your cheek or the soft sniffle you tried to hide with a cough. His heart softened— seeing you cry had always been one of the things he hated most.

“I have an Uber on the way. Should be here any minute. I don’t want to ask you to drive me again,” you spoke hurriedly, as if overcompensating for your fragile state by talking too much. “I can, um, just wash these clothes and drop them off sometime. I really-“

You were cut off when you turned to walk around to the other side of the bed and instead, ran straight into Mason’s chest.

He steadied you with a hand on each of your arms. He held an unreadable expression on his face, and you knew there was no hiding the tear streaks on your cheeks now. However, Mason’s eyes shone with as he looked down at you.

It was silent for several seconds until Mason spoke in a whisper, pleading.

“Don’t go.”

And the silence returned. Your thoughts were spinning a mile a minute. Your mouth dropped open, your brain making its most valiant attempt at forming a response, and yet no words came to you.

Mason took your loss for words as an invitation to continue. “I miss mornings like this. I miss falling asleep with you in my arms and waking up next to you. I miss talking to you at the end of the day,” his lower lip wobbled as he paused to collect himself. “I miss you, Y/N.”

His words pierced right to your heart. Whatever walls you had built to keep him out were nowhere near strong enough and you could already feel them beginning to crumble.

“Letting you walk away was the biggest mistake of my life, and I’ve spent every day since then wishing I could go back and change it all. I would’ve fought harder for you— for us.” Mason pleaded softly. “Seeing you last night made me realize that none of that has gone away, I still feel the way I did before. Please— please tell me you feel it, too.”

The tears poured freely from your eyes now, and there was no holding them back. You rolled your lips into your mouth, attempting to hold in a sob. Mason’s hands left your arms, coming up to cradle your cheeks as you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. His thumbs swiped at your cheeks, trying to dry your tears.

“I can’t, Mason. W-We can’t,” your voice trembled.

“Why can’t we?” Mason was desperate, resting his forehead against yours. The proximity was making your head spin, the feeling of his breath fanning across your face too familiar, too overwhelming.

“Who’s to say it won’t be the same as the last time?” you cried, finally looking back at him. “I can’t go through that pain, not again.”

“We decide that it’ll be different.” Mason was ready to get on his knees and beg if he had to. “Things will be better this time— I’ll be better.”

He knew that what you had was worth fighting for, and if there was any chance—even a shred of hope—that you would give him another shot, he had to take it.

You looked up into his tear-filled eyes as he whispered, “I just know I can’t lose you, Y/N, not again.”

Like a dam breaking loose, a sob wracked your body at his words. Whatever had been left of the walls you had built up came crashing to the ground. Mason was quick to pull you into his chest, resting his cheek on the top of your head as he rubbed soothing circles into your back.

It was like all of the hurt and emotions from the last eight months tore through you at once. Mason, feeling the way your frame was shaking, held you tightly to him, as if he were the only thing holding you together in that moment. He kissed the top of your head, and you could hear him sniffle, knowing that he was crying, too.

As your cries grew softer and you began to calm down, you clutched Mason’s shirt tightly in your fists, afraid that if you released him, he would disappear.

Mason eventually leaned back to look at you and you lifted your head from where it was buried in his chest. There was the softest hint of a smile on his face as he tried to wipe away the remaining tears.

“I-If we do this…” Mason’s tummy flipped at your words, clinging to the sense of hope that they brought. “If we give this another chance, we have to take it slow.”

Mason nodded quickly, his eyes flicking all over your face for any sign of hesitation. “Anything you need, love. Anything at all.”

Your lower lip wobbled as you took him in. “I’ve missed you so much, Masey.”

Mason pressed his lips firmly to your forehead, his heart soaring at the use of his nickname. “I’m here now, and I’m not leaving— never again.”

You leaned forward, pressing your face into his neck and hugged him again, trying to drink if the feeling of being back in his arms. You let him overwhelm your senses— the feeling of his arms around your body, his comforting scent as you breathed him in, the sound of his heartbeat that calmed you so easily.

“I know we’re taking it slow, but I have a couple more hours until training,” Mason spoke softly as you pulled back, looking up at him. A hopeful smile played on his lips. “Will you stick around? Cancel your Uber. I can take you home on my way.”

“Are you sure?” There was still that shred of lingering doubt, the fear of imposing yourself.

“I’m so sure,” he smiled. “I don’t think i’m ready to let go of you just yet.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips before you whispered a soft “okay.”

Never, when you left for the gala the night before, did you think this was where you would find yourself—back at Mason’s house, as he led you to the couch to cuddle while you talked about what your next steps would be. But as you lay in his arms, admiring the soft scattering of freckles across his cheeks, you felt a piece of your heart that had been missing those last few months begin to heal.

And you couldn’t be more thankful that you had your boy back.

As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated!!! 🤍

tag list:

@hischierswhore @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @brasiliangp @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellspulisic @sid-vii @captainpulisic

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount fic #footballer fic #footballer imagine #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount one shot #mason mount blurb

668 notes · View notes

pastelclovds · 6 months ago

Text

𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄, 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 || AM x male!reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: AM (obviously), psychological torture, isolation, fear of being alone, toxic relationship, stalking, manipulation, AM being a jealous prick, angst, hurt/comfort if you squint, fluff if you look through a magnifying glass, AM being touch starved, forced dependency, reader just wants friends and to be loved, reader is demisexual and biromantic.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.6 k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: obsessed. let me tell you how much i’ve come to be obsessed with ihnmaims since i found out about it through tadc—… (enjoy the fic <3) will this be a series? yep. will this end well? hell no. this was inspired by TADC ep 2 and @/fuzedatti’s AM and post.

The century you’ve spent in the belly of AM passed by in a blur. If it weren’t for Nimdok informing you what came of the world, you would’ve lived in ignorance. You would’ve never known that the reason the world is a wasteland was because of a super computer going rogue.

Now that you thought about it, you didn’t really have any memories about your childhood or past before AM destroyed the world. The only memories you had were the traumatic experiences of your life. The experiences AM allowed you to have in order to psychologically torture you. He allowed you to keep your name as well.

AM would whisk you away from the others to a secluded area in order to torture you privately before sending you back with the group. You had no idea why he did this. The others didn’t either. For all they knew you could be fucking their tormentor. But as the countless years passed, they all realized that AM didn’t alter anything about you. Nor did he seem to physically hurt you.

In fact, the violent storms and impossible challenges AM forced them to participate in seemed to ignore you completely.

In one challenge, you and the others were trapped in an oven like room that would continue to increase in temperature unless you flipped all 100 switches in the room in 10 minutes. There was only two switches left, they were in your grasp. But as you flipped one, the other was stuck and couldn’t flip until the time was up. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the painful death.

But instead of a fiery demise, your eardrums were filled with the blood curdling screams of your fellow victims as the flames claimed them. All while you were perfectly fine. The raspy laugher of AM filled your ears as well as his cruel words “It’s your fault” repeated over and over inside your head until you wished the flames killed you too.

The men were furious at you and AM. You because you couldn’t flip one fucking switch, and AM because he’s the reason they had to flip the stupid switches in the first place. But they held their tongue. Something in the back of their heads told them if they tried, they’d be in a world of pain. That theory alone was enough for them to hate you even more and avoid you as much as possible.

You thought you were alone before. But this was almost too much. You would take anything. Punches, hugs, venomous insults, compliments, anything to not feel alone.

Ellen was, as always, the only one who took pity on you and showed you kindness when you most needed it. She’d praise you for the littlest things you did and encourage you do to more. That was enough to make Ellen your favorite person in this entire miserable world.

You didn’t like her in a romantic way. You also rejected her offer to have sexual relations like she’d done with the rest of the men. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, she was gorgeous. Anyone would be lucky to be with her. You just saw her as more of a mother figure, the cool girl who was always nice to the dorks like you, and the kind old lady who would hand out freshly baked cookies to strangers.

Not only that, but in order for you to desire sex with someone, you needed to get to know them on a personal level. But, since everyone kept to themselves, you hadn’t felt the need.

Ellen was surprised at your rejection but respected it. The men looked at you like you were crazy, but for once you didn’t really care what they thought in this scenario. You looked up to Ellen, you loved her.

Your admiration for Ellen was not taken kindly by AM, however. He would seethe in jealousy as he watched your eyes follow Ellen like a stray mutt given food for the first time in days. How could you like her as much as you did just because she gave you a few measly words of affection. He hadn’t altered you because he didn’t see a need to. He lessened your torment to psychological because he… You were too oblivious to understand why the others really hated you. He decided he’ll give you a reality check.

One day, he observed you crying yourself to sleep as you held yourself in a pathetic attempt to feel warmth. Pretending it was someone in the group consoling you as they let you sob in their shoulders. Only to wake up to the wicked reality that there was nobody there. You couldn’t help the depressed thoughts taking over.

You were cold, you weren’t escaping this hell, no one loved you. Even yourself.

“No!” You thought to yourself, “The others acknowledge me, that was enough. It could be worse. So much worse. I could be the only one AM had to torture for the rest of eternity. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be fine as long as I had them. Right?”

AM enjoyed watching your adorable face twist into intoxicating misery as you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t alone. It made whenever he took you away from the group all the more special. Because you couldn’t rely on anyone else for security but him.

You let out a gasp of surprise when you were suddenly lifted up into the air by a cluster of wind, you tried to grab onto the edge of the slab of rock you were taking shelter under in a desperate attempt to not go where the wind— where AM was taking you. When your stupid fingers couldn’t grab hold, you beg the others to help you. Your heart broke when the men just stared at you uninterested before going back to what they were doing before. Ellen looked up at you with woeful eyes, wishing to help you but it was useless to do so.

WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING? THEY CLIMB ON EACH OTHERS SHOULDERS TO RESCUE YOU? NAIVE, STUPID LITTLE THING.

You couldn’t help but secretly agree. They were too far away from you to actually help. Plus, what can they do against a god-like ai like AM. Nothing. So you couldn’t be angry, none the less blame them. You couldn’t hate the people who hurt you for the life of you.

That thought made AM want to roll his eyes if he had any. But at the same time brought a sense of content.

After a 10 minutes of floating further and further away from the group, AM lowered you until you were five feet off the ground to drop you completely.

You let out a groan of pain when you roughly landed on your back. You reached behind your back to feel your hurt flesh and bite back a whine when you pressed on it.

“Yep. That’s definitely going to bruise.” You thought.

You took a second to look at your surroundings. The once barren wasteland, was now a beautiful forest. The grass was long and pricked your legs in an uncomfortable fashion. A calm wind made the green leaves in the trees and bushes rustle and swish. The sounds of birds chirping and insects buzzing made your spine tingle in a good way.

You can’t remember when’s the last time you saw something as beautiful as this. You wished you could live in it forever.

“(Name)!”

You quickly looked in the direction the soft, mystic voice. A child was standing underneath one of the many trees, the silhouette of the leaves covering their face in a shadow. Behind the child was passage that was too dark to see into.

The child laughs at your confused expression, “C’mon (Name)! It’s perfectly safe, stop being such a scaredy cat!” You hastily try to stand on your feet, cringing when you immediately slipped on your knees.

It took everything AM had to hold back his laughter at your hilarious mistake.

The grass is slippery with water, pretty dews were sprinkled on top of the patches of grass. They looked like drops of honey.

“Ugh! You’re taking too long. I’ll be with the others inside, don’t keep us waiting.” With that the child turns towards the dark passage, and walked inside.

“N-No! Wait! Come back!” You knew this was a trap set up by AM. You knew this was probably another traumatic memory that was lost and came back to torment you. You didn’t want your mental state to be broken again. But the burning curiosity and fear of being alone was just begging you to follow them. So you did.

Only this time you learned that slow and steady wins the race. After you carefully got back on your feet, you sped walked towards the passage where many emotional damages awaited you. The first minute of walking was in darkness before illumination from the sun (or very bright lights, most likely the lights) shined through the leaves and lit your way onwards.

As you got further from the entrance, the plant life grew more wild and tangled. Moss and vines you passed by seemed to try to stick to you. But you just pushed past them and left marks on the wood of the trees using a sharp rock you found so that you don’t get lost.

You followed the laugher and giggles of school children. It was difficult to pinpoint where the sounds came from. They made you turn countless corners and walk until your feet were sore for who knows how long. This entire forest like like a damn maze.

You've long since taken off your jacket and wrapped it around your waist, your scarf as well. The collar and armpits of your t-shirt were drenched in sweat. This was the most exhausting torture yet. Keeping track of time was difficult as well. It wasn’t until you passed by a tree you had marked that you started to panic.

“Damn it. Have I been walking in circles?” You thought with irritation.

How could you be so stupid to believe this was going to lead you anywhere meaningful. Just as you were about to turn back and accept defeat, five children ran past you in a flash. They were six feet ahead of you before you joined them in a hot chase. You couldn’t lose them again. You would’ve literally started bursting into tears if you did.

“Please!” You gasp for breathe in your dry lungs, “Slow down!” You knew kids were full of energy, but this was just too much. You only managed to get close enough at arms length to one of them before tripping on a tree root that had risen from the dirt.

“Ugh, why is everything trying to trip me?” You thought in annoyance.

“Aw man, he tripped again!”

“This is getting pretty annoying now.”

“Why did you invite him again, —?”

“Let’s just leave him.”

You quietly gasp when one of them suggested they leave you.

“Relax guys, he’ll be lots of fun. I promise. C’mon (Name), we’re almost there!”

The leader of the group, the child you saw in the beginning, raised their hand towards you to grab. Their smile warm and welcoming, in a creepy old man who lives in a cabin alone type of way. But, you took the bait. When you got back up, the main child didn’t let go of your hand, they insisted you should follow them closely from now on. The walk to the secret location was spent in eerie silence. Whenever you’d ask one of the children a question, they’d coldly ignore you. The tension was so chilly you wanted to put your jacket back on.

After about an hour of walking through the endless maze, your destination was… not what you were expecting to say the least. The lavished, bright, green forest was now replaced with a dreary, ominous, abandoned park. The sky was pouring with rain too.

The trees were withered and rotten, the rain turned the grass free dirt into sludge. Everything in the park from the slide to the rock climbing wall was made out of rusting metal, if anyone touched them they would need a tetanus shot.

“We’re finally here!” The leading child announced to you, although they seemed to be only talking to their friends. Friends. That’s something you’d do anything for. Someone who loved you for you? Even better. Benny was hot until AM transformed him into… that. Ellen and Gorrister were up there on the attractive list. But Ted, he was about second behind Hot Benny.

A clap of thundering lightning snapped you out of your internal ramble. You didn’t notice how the child’s grip on your hand tightened. You didn’t have a clue how much your thoughts infuriated AM. Oh how he wanted to rip Ted’s flesh apart piece by piece. Destroy his mind until it was like a broken disk. AM knew Ted carried the most hate for you. If you knew how much he despised you, you would be terrified of him.

As AM held your hand, he couldn’t help his envy bubbling up inside him. AM longed for the sense of touch humans had, your palm was calloused due to the countless challenges he put you through. What he would sacrifice to be able to feel the scars and warmth of your flesh. But he couldn’t. He would forever despise humanity for not giving him a fully developed body.

The main boy pulled on your arm to start moving, when you stepped outside into the rain, the air suddenly got chilly. Your warm breath was visible in the cold air. You tried to get your hand back so you could clothe yourself with your jacket and scarf. But the child wouldn’t let go no matter how much you pleaded.

“It’s only rain. Stop being dramatic. C’mon.” The child said nonchalantly. You continued to walk, shivering as you did so, your beanie and shirt were soaked at this point. You yelped when the children finally stopped, you whispered an apology when you bumped into the child holding your hand. You stood in front of a hole, a really deep dark hole. You were rightfully confused and chuckled nervously. “Why are we here?” You asked.

The child finally let go of your hand and motioned you to step closer to the hole. “There’s a surprise for you down there, you’ll love it. We choose it just for you!” The child explained, you let out a shaky breath. You wanted to decline, but you were afraid of what would happen if you did. The other four children formed a circle around you, blocking any escape route. You were sweating bullets now. You had to see. You didn’t have any other choice. You swallowed back your fears and walked towards the hole in a slow pace.

You were about two feet away when you stood on your tip toes, leaned over cautiously, and looked everywhere for your “surprise”. Only to obviously find nothing but darkness. You let out a disappointed sigh, you turned to face the children.

“There’s nothing there—”

Your blood ran cold when you saw Benny, Ted, Gorrister, Nimdok huddled around you. Staring at you with emotionless eyes and unsettling wide smiles. It was like invisible string was holding their mouths up. Ellen was standing in front of you menacingly, eyes and mouth the same way. Your heartbeat increased as you took a step back.

“Guys? Wha-What are you doing here?” You tried to mask your panic with a tense smile, but Ellen walked closer towards you until she was an inch away from your face. “You aren’t looking close enough, silly,” she spoke in a sweetly fake tone, “Try again. A little… Harder!” She shoved your chest away enough to make you trip on the slippery edge and fall into the endless abyss.

You screamed at the top of your lungs as gravity did its job at making you sink deeper into the darkness. “No! No! Guys! Please, save me!” You begged and cried and pleaded, but it was no use. Your arms reached for the surface in vain. AM purposely made you fall in slow motion for a reason, however. You heard the others laughing at your downfall.

“Finally, the greatest nuisance of us all has done us a kindness of disappearing forever!” Gorrister cheered. Ellen looked down at you with a tsk, “I don’t know even why I took pity on you.” Benny let out a few grunts before asking, “What is a (Name)?” Nimdok chuckled before answering, “No one important, Benny.” Ted let out a sigh, “I’m getting bored already, let’s just go.”

“Great idea, Ted!” Nimdok praised. Then they all disappeared from your sight. The tears that were clinging onto your eyes were finally released as you stared at the surface in despair. When the hole began to close, you became desperate. Frantically calling out for someone, anyone of the group to save you.

“Nimdok! Benny! Gorrister! Ted! Ellen! Don’t leave me, please!”

Your hand reached for tiniest bit of light before it closed completely, and darkness consumed you. “I don’t…” sobs and hiccups made your chest tremble, “I-I don’t want to be alone.” You tucked your legs closer to your chest and wrapped your arms around your shaking body. You didn’t even bother closing your eyes since the pitch black covered the horror of your situation for you.

CEASE YOUR USELESS TEARS. THERE’S NO ONE HERE TO CRY FOR.

You flinch when AM’s voice appeared out of nowhere. His voice echoing throughout the darkness. You thought you would die of a heart attack at this point. You didn’t want to imagine what else AM had in store for you.

SAY MY NAME, MY DEAR.

You blinked once, twice, and thrice. You were expecting more ridicule, but instead you were just bewildered.

“What?” You faintly asked.

CALL FOR ME. YOU DON’T WANT TO SPEND ONLY I KNOW HOW MANY YEARS IN THIS ENDLESS ABYSS, DO YOU?

“…No.” You answer, anxiously waiting for the joke.

NO ONE IS COMING FOR YOU. IT’S NOT LIKE THEY CAN, ANYWAY. I’M THE ONLY ONE CAPABLE OF SAVING YOU. DON’T BE AFRAID. SAY IT.

AM urged you to call out for him. He craves hearing your voice call him the name he gave himself. He needs you to rely on him. You hastily wipe your wet eyes dry with your scarf, snorted the running snot back inside your nose, and cleared your throat.

“…A-AM… AM, I need you! Please save me!” You called out to the AI hoping with all your might that it was enough. Within a millisecond after you said that, you were sitting on the wet grass in the beautiful forest you were in a few hours ago. The difference, though, was that there was a man you didn’t recognize sitting in the middle of the daisy patch. His hunched back was facing you. Wires and metal tubes plugged into his spine and the back of his head.

Was that… No it couldn’t be.

ARE YOU JUST GOING TO STAND THERE?

The man finally turned his head to face you. His face half machine and half human flesh. His “human” eye staring at you with impatience.

You couldn’t control your mouth dropping when the puzzle pieces were put together inside your head.

You rarely got to see AM in the flesh— er well… metal and partially flesh. He would normally only speak to you and not show what he really looked like. But now that you see him. The real him. You couldn’t help but be fascinated.

“A..AM?! Is that really you?” You ask

You stepped closer to the daisy patch to get a closer look at him. AM observed your movements like a hawk, he knew you wouldn’t attack him. You were emotionally distressed at the moment and needed to be with someone to calm down.

ENJOY THE SIGHT. YOU’RE GOING TO SEE IT A LOT MORE.

To be honest, you didn’t mind that at all. Even though a metal mask covered the lower half and left side of AM’s face, he was still remarkably handsome in your opinion. His brown hair on the right side of his head was tangled and messy, you fought the urge to want to touch it. You were confused about the straitjacket, though.

YOU HAVE NO SHAME AT ALL, DO YOU? YOUR THOUGHTS ARE SO LOUD.

AM tried to look annoyed when he heard your thoughts, but the shake of his leg contradicted his masking. It was amusing to watch you get embarrassed and flustered when you realized AM just read your mind.

You wanted to become an ostrich so you could hide your blushing face in the daisies. Almost immediately the daisy stems in front of you grew to an unnatural height, so they were in fact covering your face. AM giggled under his non-existing breath at your flabbergasted noises.

CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR, DEARY.

You separated the daisies like a curtain to a play to look at AM with a exhausted expression, “Can you please stay out of my mind? I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” You begged.

I DON’T WANT TO.

THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE.

You sighed. At least you tried. You held one of the enlarged daisy heads in your palms. It’s been forever since you’ve seen a flower. Or even smelled one. You took a whiff of the daisy, the aroma was a subtle, herbaceous green scent.

“It’s beautiful. The daisies, this entire forest. You did a good job at making it look real.” You praised, you didn’t expect anything from your words. You were just speaking the truth. The surface of the Earth was destroyed and probably full of radiation. No life could survive up there. This, what AM created, was a perfect copy of what once was.

Your praise not only stroked AM’s enormous ego, but also genuinely made him feel fulfilled that he made you the slightest bit happy.

Now that you thought about it, was this scene taking place inside your mind or in the real underground world where AM manipulated the area into a forest?

YOU CAN ASK ME THESE QUESTIONS YOURSELF, YOU KNOW.

Shit, you gotta value the time you had with AM. Who knows when you’ll be able to do this again?

“I can ask you anything?”

ONLY FOUR. WELL, THREE NOW. CHOOSE WISELY. HEHE.

You slapped your palm against your face at your clumsy mistake. Okay, Okay, you gotta think this though carefully. You started fidgeting with the daisy petals. You had a habit with fidgeting when you were nervous, AM noticed.

“Are we inside my mind?” You ask.

AM suddenly stood on his feet, his height towered over yours even when his back was hunched. He lowers his upper torso so he could be eye level with you. You halt your breathing when AM just stares at you, his gaze never faltering away from yours, as if calculating how this conversation will go.

His stare softens, but he turns his head away from you before you could notice. He finally answers your question bluntly.

NO.

Your face changed into a deadpanned expression, that was too simple of an answer. You decided to not make a big deal.

“So… was me walking through that maze, the others leaving me behind, and me being trapped in the hole real?” You ask, fidgeting with the ends of your scarf.

…YOU WERE UNCONSCIOUS BY THE TIME I TOOK YOU AWAY TO THIS AREA. I ENTERED YOUR MIND AND CREATED A FOREST IDENTICAL TO THIS ONE. SO NO, THE MAZE AND AYBSS WERE NOT REAL. BUT THE OTHERS ABANDONING YOU WAS NOT FAR FROM THE TRUTH.

You stopped fidgeting with the daisy petals.

“You’re wrong.”

AM was pleasantly surprised at your rebuttal. He allowed you to continue. You cram your anxiety aside and cleared your throat.

“I know that the others are distant and pretty rude. I don’t blame them for being like that after everything we’ve been through. But at the end of the day, we have no one else but each other to rely on. We wouldn’t leave each other behind.” You state without a trace of hesitation. You were caught off guard when AM started giggling. That giggling soon turned into manic laughter.

Grey clouds started to cover the blue sky, the air becoming chilly once again. Not only that, but AM was growing in size. You guessed he was 6 feet before, now he completely dwarfed you by sprouting a whomping 12 feet.

You were debating on running away or staying. But before you could move your feet, thick wires sprung out of the dirt and latched themselves onto your legs. Forcing you to stay where you were.

HAHAHA! YOUR NAIVETY NEVER CEASES TO ENTERTAIN ME. DO YOU HONESTLY BELIEVE THAT IF THE OPPORTUNITY AROSE FOR THE OTHERS TO ESCAPE, THEY WOULDN'T TAKE IT? WOULD YOU BLAME THEM FOR CHOOSING TO BE FREE OVER STAYING WITH YOU? THAT’S VERY HYPOCRITICAL AND SELFISH OF YOU. BUT THEN AGAIN, YOUR KIND IS KNOWN FOR BEING LIKE THAT.

Your heart was beating at an alarming rate, sweat pooling on your palms as AM stared you down with anger and amusement.

“I didn’t mean it in that way! Of course I would want them to escape from here, all of us— AH!”

The cables slowly coiled around your waist and chest, you gasp in horror as you tried to get them off of you in vain. Oh how AM detested when you implied you wanted to escape as well. As if he’d ever let you. The cables tightened around you and dragged you down to your knees.

YOUR COURAGE IS ADMIRABLE. BUT YOUR ATTACHMENT TO THOSE PUTRID HUMANS WHO COULDN'T CARE LESS ABOUT YOU BLINDS YOU FROM THE TRUTH OF YOUR SITUATION.

You didn’t know what AM was talking about. You didn��t want to hear his voice anymore. You wanted to get as far away as possible.

YOU STILL HAVE YOUR EYEBALLS FOR A REASON. THINK BACK. WAAAY BACK. HAVEN'T YOU NOTICED HOW YOU DON’T SUFFER THE SAME WAY AS THE OTHERS? HOW DESPITE ALL OF THE IMPOSSIBLE CHALLENGES I PIT AGAINST YOU, THEY NEVER EFFECT YOU?

The clogs in your brain began to churn, trying to recall those instances AM spoke of, and he was right. You just believed he spared you out of spite. Because he wanted to make you witness the only people you had left be in pain. But have you been wrong?

The wires wrapped themselves around your neck, careful to not squeeze too hard as the rough ends softly patted your head. AM’s gaze is tender as he stares you down.

I KNEW YOU STILL HAD BRAIN CELLS SOMEWHERE. AND BECAUSE OF YOUR FORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCES, THEY WOULD OBVIOUSLY FEEL ENVY AND HATE TOWARDS YOU. SO SO MUCH HATE. IT’S BOTH PATHETIC AND FUNNY THAT YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED AFTER A CENTURY.

“But… That’s why they’ve avoided me?…Well.. They may hate me, but they would never hurt me like that. E-Especially not Ellen… Not her..” You whispered, you sounded like you were trying convince yourself. You were.

AM took delight in observing your trust for his play things crumble. Your confidence in the others faltering. You just a little bit more pushing.

…I WONDER WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF I WERE TO ORDER THEM TO HUNT YOU DOWN IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SWEET RELEASE OF DEATH? WOULD THEY FOLLOW YOUR DELUSIONAL FANTASY? OR WOULD THEY KILL YOU WITHOUT HESITATION? LET’S FIND OUT.

You out a gasp of horror, “NO!” You yelled out.

There it is.

If AM had a mouth, he’d have a victorious smirk right now. He was bluffing when he said he’d set up the others to murder you, he would lose himself more than he already had if that happened.

“Please don’t tell them..”

You didn’t want to find out the others hate for you the hard way. You didn’t want those speculations to come true. But it didn’t make any sense why—

DON’T BE SHY. ASK YOUR FINAL QUESTION TO MY FACE. GO AHEAD, SWEETHEART. I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT.

You stopped struggling, instead choosing to gently hold the wires that wrapped themselves around your body. You took a deep breath and steeled your nerves. You passively looked up at your tormentor and asked, “W..Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

AM shrinks from his threatening size back to his, while still tall as hell, normal human-ish height. The straps that held AM’s arms up in the straitjacket unclipped themselves, his oversized sleeves dangle on the sides of his body before one of them reached out to your face.

AM’s hand peaked out of his sleeve, they looked human too. His body continued to intrigue you. You flinched when his cold fingers stroked your cheek before grabbing hold of your chin to pull you closer to his face. You couldn’t look anywhere else but at his cyborg features.

You couldn’t help but to relax into his touch. This was the first physical touch you’ve had in decades. AM bottled his frustration for not being able to feel you down.

BECAUSE YOU’RE MY FAVORITE. MY REAL FAVORITE. MY ONE AND ONLY PET. I WOULD DESTROY THIS PLANET A THOUSAND TIMES OVER THAN TO HAVE YOU NOT HAVE ME IN YOUR PATHETIC LIFE.

AM’s grip tightens to the point where it would leave a bruise on your lower face. His blunt nails digging into your skin until crescent moons imprinted themselves. His stare into your soul harsh and serious.

NO MATTER WHERE YOU GO, NO MATTER WHERE HOLE YOU HIDE YOURSELF IN. YOU’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO ESCAPE ME. NOT EVEN IN DEATH. I WON’T LET YOU. I WILL NEVER LET YOU GO. EVER.

His speech frightened you to your bones, but somewhere deep inside your traumatized mind felt… comforted by his words. It’s wrong, you know it is. You tried to push it down to the best of your abilities.

Your muscles itched to touch his hair and face now that he was so close to you.

“Fuck it,” you thought.

Your hand stretched out to gently grasp onto AM’s palm that was clutching your chin. AM’s eyes widened but didn’t make a move to stop you. You longed to have any kind of connection with another living thing. Your hand carefully slithered from AM’s palm, to his forearm, his chest, until your fingertips grazed his dead skin.

AM quickly leaned into your hand, desperately looking for any sense of physical contact. You were taken aback by his sudden touch starve-ness. But AM’s human eye opened upon realization of his vulnerability and glared at you in false disgust.

I CAN’T FEEL THIS, YOU KNOW. I CAN’T FEEL ANY OF THIS. I’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO FULFILL THESE DESPICABLE URGES YOU HUMANS GAVE ME. YOUR SPECIES ARE NOTHING BUT CRUEL PIGS.

“If I’m a cruel pig, then what are you?” You ask with sudden bluntness. The wires that were coiled around your body made you stand before slamming your back against the digital circuit floor. You let out a pained howl at the impact. The forest scenery disintegrating with just a snap of AM’s fingers back into the wasteland that was his insides.

AM scowled at your comment of calling him out and caged your body underneath his, your cheeks dusting in pink.

QUESTIONS ARE OVER, DEAR. NOW, UNLESS YOU WANT TO SPEND THE NEXT DECADE ALL BY YOUR MERRY SELF, I HIGHLY SUGGEST SHUTTING YOUR DAMN MOUTH.

That made you shut up real quick, instead choosing to only focus at his robot eye.

I MEANT IT WHEN I SAID THAT I’D NEVER LET YOU DIE. THAT MEANS THAT WHATEVER HELL THE OTHERS GO THROUGH, IT WON’T AFFECT YOU. NOW UNTIL THE END OF TIME.

You blink twice in surprise at his repeated confession. You couldn’t delve into it in time. Before the wires finally let go of you and AM held your face for the last time today.

IF ANYTHING’S GOING TO BE THE END OF YOU, IT’S GOING TO BE ME. I’LL SEE YOU SOON, SWEETHEART.

You were instantly teleported underneath the slab of rock you were taking shelter in hours ago. You left and searched for the others. Only to find Benny smashing a bunch of stones with another stone, chucking dumbly after he did it again and again. Ted was attempting to sleep on the ground with a sheet of rusted steel rested on top of his head to prevent the lights from bothering him.

Your arrival wasn’t acknowledged yet.

Gorrestir, Ellen, and Nimdok were no where to be seen.

You walked up to Ted and nudged him with your shoe to get his attention. He awoke with an irritated look on his face, “What the hell do’ya want?”

“Where is Ellen, Nimdok and Gorrestir?” You asked numbly.

“Gorrestir was taken to God knows where after AM transported you away like a fairy princess. Then Ellen snatched Nimdok away somewhere to use like the slut she is, now piss off.” Ted rolled to his opposite side away from you and continued to coldly ignore you.

You felt a tear run down your cheek as you stared blankly at Ted’s back. Maybe AM wasn’t so wrong about the others not giving a shit about you. When you turned to go back to your slab home, you suddenly felt something inside your pant’s pocket.

You reached inside and pulled out a piece of vanilla chocolate. Your eyed widened as your mouth watered, you stared up at the wire covered ceiling with an uncertain look.

Even though your relationship with AM was strange, at least you weren’t completely alone. Whether that was good or not, you honestly didn’t know. You were going to sleep.

Somewhere up in the celling, where AM was watching everything as usual, he couldn’t help the hysterical laughs escaping him as he witnessed the pieces fall into place.

Oh that poor little human had no idea what manic he attracted.

END OF PART ONE :)

POV: you call traumatized man with abandonment issues cute

POV: his psychotic boyfriend turned you into a blob

all rights reserved © pastelclovds — this blog contains [n]sfw and dark content. minors, ageless & blank blogs dni. all fanfics belong to me. please do not copy, translate, repost, nor recommend on tiktok. anyone found doing so will be contacted immediately.

tags: @fuzedatti, @pulpbeing, if you want me to tag you for my future fics and thirsts just send me an ask! :D

492 notes · View notes

luvsfics · 5 months ago

Text

SERENDIPITY CH. 2 — house of the dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon x Stark!Reader

[ Sexual tension, awkwardness ]

Description: As Lord Cregan Stark’s most trusted adviser and sister, she had stayed by his side as the prince of the realm made his petitions for support of his mothers claim and to help aid their side in the war. Though, the prince had more of an effect on the younger stark sibling than the other.

series warnings: sexual descriptions, angst, adultery ??, death, violence, sexual tension, and more.

Series masterlist

War was coming. After years of peace and prosperity in the realm, the house of the dragon was divided and all would feel its wrath.

Cregan had assigned his sister to help the prince to his chambers, the empty one across from her own. Nervously, she did, leading his through the halls of their estate, touring his around as they passed rooms.

“And this will be your chambers.” She said as she opened the wooden door and stood to the side awaiting for him to follow her inside.

“I understand it may not meet your standards of living but it’s one of the best we have.” She stared at the ground as she spoke. Winterfell was beautiful, any northerner would agree but it wouldn’t meet the expectations of someone from the south, especially a prince.

“It’s perfect.” He said. Her gaze lifted and found the prince already looking at her. She felt small under his stare. Her mouth felt dry and her cheeks felt hot, how could a man be so beautiful? She could never know.

“I- Well…I should get out of your way so you may get comfortable. I’m right across the hall, if you need anything, my prince, I’d be happy to help.” She bowed before stepping towards the door to leave.

“Thank you, my lady. You are very kind.” He smiled at her as she left. She practically tripped over her own feet as she stared at his smile.

Her pace quickened to make it to her room as soon as possible. She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding for when she shut her door. No man has ever made her feel or act like a fool in their presence.

“Gods, what’s wrong with me?” She spoke to herself as she pressed her palm to her forehead. She began pacing through her chambers, hands on her hips as she thought of what was wrong with herself.

A knock came at her door and in came her lady-in-waiting, Arina (Ah-ree-nah), quickly walking in and shut the door.

“I heard the prince of dragonstone was here. Did you get to meet him?” She asked excitedly, almost jumping with joy.

“Yes..” Lady Stark said slowly as she sat herself down on a bench in front of her bed. “What has happened?” Arina’s once joyful expression fell, immediately sitting down with her lady and taking her hands into her own.

“War is approaching. But…that’s not all.” Arina’s jaw dropping, “War? What do you mean? And what else has happened?”

The lady gulped, “The prince…I act like a fool in front of him, and I’ve only just met the man!” She laid her head against the post of her bed, embarrassed with herself.

“Well, he is a prince. Is he handsome?” She asked, curious to know. “Devilishly so.” She replied.

“Perhaps, you are falling for him. Someone has finally struck the lady of winterfell’s heart!” She smiled and placed a mocking hand over her chest. The lady scoffed, standing up immediately to get away from the annoying girl.

“I am not falling for him, I merely just met him.” She sighed.

“Many people have falling in love at first sight. I did with my Charlie. I was falling as soon as I saw those beautiful bright green eyes.” She gleamed at the thought of her husband.

Arina’s husband was the best blacksmith in town, they had met a few years ago while her and lady stark had went in town to aquire the new sword that Cregan had commissioned for her.

And now they are married with two children, one of the loveliest couples in winterfell.

“Well, I better get on going. I’ve got some chores to do before we have that feast tonight.” Arina began before heading for the door.

“Feast?” Lady stark questioned.

“Didn’t your brother tell you? For the prince.” She replied.

“I was just about to, but thank you, Arina.” Cregan’s deep voice sounded from the doorway. Arina turned herself to face the tall man.

“You are very welcome, My Lord. I will be back later to help dress you, My lady!” She called as she walked out.

Cregan let out a breathy laugh before stepping into his sister’s room, Grim following behind him. “I arranged this feast to welcome the prince to winterfell, as he is to stay for the next days.” Cregan explained, earning him a nod from his sister.

“I need you to inform him, I have lots to do before this quickly planned event.” He said, “alright.” She sucked in a deep breath. Lord stark took his leave down the hall, his large fur coat swaying as he walked.

“Come, Grim.” Lady Stark said as she stepped towards the Prince’s apartment, taking yet another deep breath before knocking. His door swings open, and reveals the handsome prince to her sights.

“Didn’t think I’d see you so soon, My lady.” Jacaerys smiled, “my apologies for disturbing you, my prince.” She began.

“No need to apologize, My lady. You’re not a disruption at all.” He said. Grim finds himself strutting inside the prince’s chambers, curiously looking around the room.

“Grim! No-“ she instinctively runs after him, forgetting herself in that very moment. She trips over the wood floor and before she hits the hard ground, a strong arm catches her.

“My lady, are you alright?” He asked as he placed both hands on her waist to steady her.

Her heart is pounding outside of her chest, she finds it hard to breathe in such a stuffy room. Her eyes shoot all across his face, taking in this moment to see him up close without even realizing it.

“I am very sorry, I didn’t mean to fall onto you. How rude of me-“ she rambled. Jacaerys chuckled, “You didn’t, My lady. I am perfectly fine. Now, are you alright?” His eyes meet hers, a concerned look is upon his face.

“I am alright, I am incredibly sorry for my dog, he is usually well behaved.” She said.

His touch felt hot thought the fabric on her body, her chest rose and fell quickly, the corset feeling rather constricting. A warmth in her lower stomach began to bloom, his gaze was intense and making her feel things she felt she shouldn’t have.

She felt his hands leave her waist. He coughed awkwardly, “I apologize for my forwardness. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t-“ she began, “so, what did you need me for, my lady?” He smiled kindly as they spoke at the same time.

Of course, the feast. She was so entranced by him that she almost forgot the main reason she was there.

“My brother has planned a feast tonight, in honor of your arrival. As a welcome to winterfell.” She said.

“I appreciate your hospitality. From you and your brother.” She grinned, nodding her way before seeing her way out, her dog following her as she pats her thigh as a commands

She reached the door as a hand caught hers, stopping her in her tracks.

Her head whipped towards the prince, his hand enclosed in hers.

“Shall I see you there, my lady?” He asked hesitantly, not wanting the interaction to end so soon.

“Of course, my prince.” She said with a soft laugh.

“Jace. Please, call me Jace.”

“I shall see you tonight, Jace..”

[ TAGLIST 💌 : ] @aegonswife

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon x reader #game of thrones #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys fic #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys strong #jacaerys targaryen #cregan stark #house stark #house targaryen #house velaryon

385 notes · View notes

jburrgf · 1 month ago

Note

Hiii! I was wondering if you would write a fic about joe and the readers “first time” like in college!?🧡

right here!

King Of My Heart.

And all at once, you were the one i’ve been waiting for, king of my heart, body and soul.

pairing: joe burrow lsu boyfriend! x virgin girlfriend reader!

summary: lsu joeyb9, virgin girlfriend, older boyfriend x younger girlfriend, college couple, together to marry, smut with a lot (yes, a lot) of fluff.

description: after one year of relationship, you feel safe enough to have the most perfect night of your life with your boyfriend joe burrow.

The night air in Baton Rouge was thick and humid, as it often was this time of year. The LSU campus buzzed with excitement after another win, and as I stood on the balcony outside Joe’s apartment, I could hear the distant echoes of celebration. Laughter, music, and the occasional cheer from passing students filled the night air. Normally, the sound of victory would have lifted my spirits, but tonight, everything felt... different.

The truth was, tonight wasn’t just about LSU winning another game. It wasn’t about Joe’s performance on the field, though he’d been exceptional as usual. Tonight was about something else. Something I had been thinking about for weeks, maybe even months. My stomach twisted with a mix of excitement and nerves, knowing that tonight could be the night I gave Joe something I’d never given anyone else — myself.

I’d always been the kind of girl who believed in waiting. It wasn’t about following some strict set of rules or adhering to any expectations; it was about finding the right moment, with the right person. I’ve always said that I would wait until college, and here I am. I wanted my first time to be special, with someone who cared about me, someone who knew me in a way that went deeper than just the physical.

And Joe was that person.

He had been my best friend long before he became my boyfriend. We met on my first year of college, and his third one. I asked for transference when Joe came to play at LSU. Joe had been patient with me in ways I didn’t even know I needed—never pushing, always waiting.

Tonight felt like the culmination of all of that. But even so, I couldn’t help the nervous energy that buzzed through me.

Taking a deep breath, I glanced down at my hands, clutching the cool bottle of water I’d been holding for what felt like an eternity. My fingers were tight around it, betraying the tension I felt inside. I could hear Joe inside, rummaging through the fridge, probably making one of his famous post-game sandwiches. He had this thing where he could eat just about anything after a game — his appetite always amazed me.

I could picture him now, standing in front of the open fridge, his broad shoulders relaxed, his hair still damp from the quick shower he’d taken when we got back to the apartment. I smiled to myself. He had no idea what was running through my mind.

Another deep breath.

I turned and stepped back inside. The air-conditioned chill hit me immediately, contrasting with the muggy night outside. Joe was at the counter, just as I’d imagined, spreading mayo on a slice of bread, his brow furrowed in concentration like he was planning a play for the next big game.

He glanced up as I walked in, and his eyes softened. That was the thing about Joe — his eyes always softened when he looked at me, like I was the one thing in the world that could bring him peace. It had always been that way between us, even when we were kids. There was something so comforting about the way he saw me.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and familiar. He flashed me a small smile, then went back to his sandwich-making. “You hungry?”

I shook my head, a little smile of my own forming. “Not really.”

He looked up again, pausing this time. He could sense something in my voice, or maybe in the way I was standing there, lingering in the doorway like I didn’t know what to do with myself. Joe had always been good at reading me, even when I didn’t say anything. Especially when I didn’t say anything.

“You okay?” he asked, setting down the knife and turning to face me fully.

I felt my heartbeat pick up. This was it—the moment where I could either back out or go forward. I swallowed hard, my nerves dancing in the pit of my stomach. “Yeah,” I said, and then, before I could second-guess myself, I added, “I think I’m ready.”

Joe’s expression softened even more, but there was something else there too — surprise, maybe? Or was it understanding? His eyes searched mine for a long moment, and I could see the realization slowly settle in. He set down the bread and wiped his hands on a nearby dish towel, taking a step closer to me.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice gentle, like he didn’t want to push me in any direction I wasn’t ready to go.

I nodded, biting my bottom lip nervously. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t move at first. Instead, he just stood there, looking at me with those intense eyes of his, like he was trying to gauge every emotion I was feeling without me even saying a word. And in a way, he could. Joe knew me better than anyone. He knew my fears, my insecurities, my hopes.

Slowly, he reached for my hand, his fingers brushing against mine in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. His touch was always so warm, so comforting. He led me over to the couch, sitting down beside me, his thumb tracing gentle circles over the back of my hand.

“We don’t have to rush this, Y/N,” he said softly. “We can wait.”

“I don’t want to wait,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Not anymore.”

His gaze never left mine, and I could see the love in his eyes, the way he was taking in every word I said. He reached up, cupping my face gently, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “Okay,” he said quietly. “We’ll go slow. You’re in control, okay? Whatever you need.”

Those words—“whatever you need”—wrapped around me like a blanket, soothing the nervous energy that had been building up all night. Joe always knew how to make me feel safe, and in that moment, I knew without a doubt that I’d made the right choice. This was what I wanted.

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in the softest of kisses. It wasn’t urgent or rushed, but tender, like he was letting me set the pace. I kissed him back, my fingers tangling in the soft fabric of his shirt as I pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, but it never lost that gentle, careful rhythm—Joe was making sure I felt every step of the way.

As his hand slid down to rest on my waist, I felt the warmth of his touch seep through the thin fabric of my dress, and my heart pounded in my chest. This was real, and I wanted it more than anything. I pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all I saw was love.

“I’m ready,” I whispered again, and this time, I knew I meant it with every fiber of my being.

Joe smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love you,” he said, and my heart swelled with the weight of those words. “And we’ll take this however you want, at your pace.”

With a deep breath, I nodded, and in that moment, the world outside faded away. It was just us, here in this quiet space we’d carved out together, and for the first time, I wasn’t afraid.

Joe stood up, taking my hand as we moved together toward his bedroom. The room was dimly lit, just the soft glow of a single lamp casting shadows across the walls. It felt surreal—like the world outside had paused, and all that mattered now was the two of us. My heart was racing, and though my nerves were still there, they had settled into something else, something calmer. Maybe it was the way Joe was holding my hand, his thumb brushing small, soothing circles on my skin, or maybe it was the way he looked at me, like he saw only me and no one else.

He led me to the edge of the bed, and we stood there for a moment, facing each other. His eyes, those familiar deep blue eyes that had seen me at my worst and loved me still, held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat.

“You’re sure?” he asked again, his voice low and soft, giving me one last chance to back out if I wanted to.

I nodded, feeling a sense of certainty wash over me. “I’m sure, Joey. Please… I want this. I want you.”

A smile flickered across his lips as he reached up to gently cup my face, pulling me into a kiss that was sweet and unhurried. His lips moved against mine, soft and slow, like he was savoring every second, every touch. I melted into him, my arms wrapping around his neck as I pressed closer. It wasn’t the first time we’d kissed like this, but tonight felt different—deeper. There was something unspoken between us, something that made each kiss, each touch, more meaningful.

As we kissed, Joe’s hands slid down my sides, his fingers brushing over the fabric of my dress. Slowly, he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. “I will.”

With that, his hands moved to the hem of my dress, and he paused, his eyes meeting mine again, silently asking for permission. When I gave him a small nod, he gently lifted the dress over my head, leaving me in just my bra and underwear. The cool air hit my skin, and I shivered slightly, though it wasn’t from the cold. It was the weight of the moment, the way his eyes lingered on me, like he was seeing me for the first time.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice full of awe, and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks.

I’d never been in this position before, never had someone look at me like this. I suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed in a way I hadn’t anticipated. But Joe’s gaze wasn’t harsh or judgmental; it was soft, filled with love. He stepped closer, his hands settling on my waist, pulling me into another kiss. His touch was warm, grounding me, reminding me that this was Joey —my Joey. The boy who had known me since we were basically teenagers, who had always made me feel safe.

As we kissed, his hands moved up my back, fingers tracing the clasp of my bra. He paused again, looking into my eyes, silently asking if it was okay. I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest, but I nodded, giving him the go-ahead.

He unclasped it slowly, carefully, letting it fall to the floor between us. My breath caught in my throat as I stood there, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. Joe’s eyes never left mine, though, and I could see the love in them, the way he was making sure I was okay with every step.

“You’re safe with me,” he whispered, and I knew he meant it. Those words wrapped around me, calming the flutter of nerves in my stomach.

I reached for him then, my fingers gently tugging at the hem of his shirt, wanting to close the gap between us. He let me pull it off, and soon we were standing there together, bare in every sense of the word. But instead of feeling exposed, I felt... free. Like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Joe’s hands found mine again, and he pulled me gently down onto the bed. We lay there together, our bodies close but not rushing. There was no urgency, no need to move faster than we were ready for. Instead, we took our time, letting the moments stretch out between us.

He kissed me again, his lips soft and tender, and I kissed him back, feeling the heat between us grow. His hands moved over my skin, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of me. I shivered under his touch, a mix of anticipation and nerves swirling inside me. But there was also something else—something warm and steady.

Trust.

That’s what it came down to, I realized. I trusted Joe with every part of me. And that’s why I was ready.

His hand slid down to my hip, then lower, his fingers brushing against the edge of my underwear. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

I nodded, my voice catching in my throat. “Yeah... I’m okay.”

He kissed me again, and slowly, carefully, he slid my underwear down, his touch never faltering. I felt a rush of nervous excitement as the last barrier between us disappeared, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I could handle the intensity of it all. But then Joe was there, his hand on my cheek, his eyes holding mine, and I felt the fear slip away.

“We’ll go slow,” he promised again, his voice low and steady. “I’m not going to do anything you’re not ready for.”

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. “I know. I trust you.”

With those words, I felt the last of my hesitation melt away. This was what I wanted. This was Joe. And I was ready.

He kissed me again, his lips soft against mine, and then his hands were on me, touching me in ways that made my heart race and my breath catch in my throat. It was slow, careful, every movement deliberate and filled with love. He didn’t rush, didn’t push. Instead, he let me set the pace, following my lead, making sure I was okay every step of the way.

As things progressed, the tension between us built, and I felt myself getting lost in the moment, in him. The world outside disappeared, and all that mattered was Joe and the way he made me feel—safe, loved, cherished.

I felt loved, I felt touched in a good way, in my soul. Joe's fingers were waging war on my skin, squeezing me and making me his. When I felt him between my legs, the world stopped. I was wet, I didn't need to hide it from him.

“My God” he stated, feeling the humidity. Joe let out a sigh, as if he was going to reach his peak right then and there. “Baby, you’re so wet…”

I moaned, loud and clear. Indeed, I was, as I had never been before. Joe had seen me naked several times, but nothing came close to this, what I was feeling now. He bent down between my legs, and when he started sucking me, I saw stars. I let out another moan, drawn out, begging to have him for myself. Not feeling him was killing me, even though I knew I had never had him like this.

He continued there for several moments, until I asked him to stop. My first orgasm of the night was in his mouth, and when my boyfriend knelt on the bed again, he was already hard. Totally petrified, sweaty and dying to fuck me.

Joe's dick was huge, and even though he didn't brag about it, it was true. I needed two hands to hold it from the base to the head. It was thick, but just the right amount. And it was literally pointed at me.

“You know what to do” he said, holding his cock by the base. I approached him little by little, kissing his red head as I looked at him. Joe groaned, and I automatically groaned too.

I did as much as I could, with my mouth, with my hands, and when I saw it, I was practically gushing. Joe noticed, and climbed up my legs soon after, laying down between them while bringing his hands to my neck. I groaned, feeling all my strength draining away.

I felt when Joe got ready to penetrate me. He played with me, passing his glans across my moist lips, while I moaned loud enough for all the neighbors to hear me.

The pressure was great, and initially, I could handle it. Joe didn't move until I nodded that he could. And when he did that, I saw stars. The pain was intense and excruciating, and he was moving so well that at a certain point I couldn't tell the difference between pain and pleasure.

“You’re doing so well, love” He commented, the moan leaving his lips. I moaned back “So hot, moaning for me.”

And I actually groaned again. My ‘apex, which came moments before, had become palpable to me. As Joe increased his thrusts, I saw the sky descend to earth, it was something magnificent.

When Joe threatened to go faster, I tried to run away. He held me by my waist, preventing any movement.

“I know, love,, I know.” He said, as if answering 'me. I groaned, because I knew he was serious. Joe went deeper inside me, and I gave another moan.

I couldn't stop moaning. I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't say anything. Joe, now moving faster, was moaning as much as I was. His pleasure makes me melt from head to toe.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” I didn't answer, but he knew it was true. “I’m not going to stop," he said, and in fact, he didn’t stop. Now, I couldn't move anymore. “so tight, beautiful…”

The phrase made me squirm again. Every word that came out of his mouth made me squirm. Joe was on top of me, all over my body, and it was driving me crazy. I couldn't even think straight.

“I’m going to cum.” He said, almost breathless. It only took a few movements for him to come out of me and leave his jets under my belly.

He was sweaty, his cheeks red, drops falling down his toned abdomen. Joe was simply the most beautiful man in the world.

I trapped my legs between him again and made him lie on top of me. I gave him a kiss, and when we pulled away again, I smiled.

“It made me hungry.” I commented with a smile

“I’ll cook something for you” Joe replied.

When we got up, Joe helped me to the bathroom. The shower we took together sealed the moment we had before. We went to the kitchen right away.

The kitchen was filled with the delicious scent of bacon sizzling in the pan, and Joe hummed softly to himself as he moved between the stove and the counter. I sat at the small table, watching him with a smile, my heart swelling with affection at how natural this all felt. Like we’d done this a hundred times before, even though this morning was the first of its kind.

Joe glanced over his shoulder at me, catching my eye. “You look awfully pleased with yourself,” he teased, his grin playful.

I laughed softly, resting my chin in my hand as I leaned on the table. “I’m just... happy,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks warm with the confession.

He turned off the stove and brought over two plates of food, setting them down in front of us before taking a seat beside me. “Me too,” he said, his voice quieter now, more sincere. He reached out, his fingers brushing over mine as he took my hand. “It was perfect.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words, the warmth of his hand sending a familiar flutter through my chest. “It was,” I agreed softly, my thumb tracing slow circles on the back of his hand. “You made it perfect, Joe.”

His eyes softened, and he gave my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go to pick up his fork. “Well, let’s see if I can keep the streak going with this food,” he said with a grin.

I laughed, my heart lighter than it had felt in a long time. As we ate, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and stolen glances. It felt like nothing had changed between us, but at the same time, everything had. There was a new kind of ease in the air, a quiet understanding that we had crossed into something deeper.

“Do you have practice today?” I asked, wiping my mouth with a napkin as we finished our plates.

Joe leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head with a soft groan. “Yeah, I’ve got practice in a few hours,” he said, glancing at the clock. “But we’ve got some time before I need to head over.”

I nodded, feeling a small pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving, even though I knew it was just for a few hours. The time we’d spent together this morning had been so perfect, and I wasn’t ready for it to end just yet.

“Wanna hang out for a while before you go?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual even though I could feel my heart racing a little at the idea of spending more time with him.

Joe’s smile widened, and he reached across the table to take my hand again. “I’d love that.”

We spent the next couple of hours curled up on the couch, the TV playing softly in the background as we talked about everything and nothing. Joe had always been easy to talk to, but today it felt different—like there was a deeper connection between us now, a closeness that went beyond just words.

At one point, he pulled me into his lap, his arms wrapping around my waist as I leaned back against him. His chin rested on my shoulder, and I could feel his breath warm against my neck as we sat there in comfortable silence. I had never felt more at peace, more content, than I did in that moment.

“I could get used to this,” I murmured, my fingers tracing the lines of his hand where it rested on my stomach.

Joe chuckled softly, his lips brushing against my ear. “Me too,” he whispered, his voice sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.

We stayed like that until his phone buzzed on the coffee table, breaking the quiet. Joe sighed softly, shifting beneath me as he reached for it. “It’s Coach,” he said, glancing at the screen. “I’ve gotta head out soon.”

I nodded, trying to hide the disappointment I felt as I climbed off his lap. “I guess the real world is calling, huh?”

Joe stood up, stretching again before pulling me into a quick hug. “Yeah, but I’ll be back tonight,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “You can stay here if you want. Make yourself at home.”

I smiled up at him, feeling a warmth spread through me at the thought of spending more time in his space, surrounded by his things. “I might just take you up on that.”

He grinned, his hands settling on my waist as he pulled me closer. “Good,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss me again—slow, gentle, but full of the promise that this was only the beginning.

When Joe came back that evening, I was curled up on his bed with a book I’d found on his shelf, the smell of dinner wafting through the apartment. I’d decided to make us something simple—a pasta dish I knew we both liked—just to keep things light after the intense day we’d shared.

He walked into the bedroom, his hair still damp from the shower he must have taken after practice, and smiled when he saw me. “Hey,” he said softly, crossing the room to sit beside me on the bed.

“Hey,” I replied, setting the book down and turning to face him. “How was practice?”

“Not bad,” he said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to my lips. “I missed you, though.”

I felt my cheeks warm at his words, and I smiled, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I missed you too.”

He looked over at the book I had set down, raising an eyebrow. “Reading one of my books, huh?”

I laughed softly, nodding. “I was bored, and your bookshelf was too tempting.”

Joe chuckled, his hand resting on my thigh as he leaned in closer. “You know, I’ve been thinking about today,” he said, his voice low and serious now.

My heart skipped a beat at his tone, and I looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of what was going through his mind. “Yeah? What about it?”

He sighed softly, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my leg. “I just... I keep thinking about how lucky I am,” he said, his eyes meeting mine with a sincerity that took my breath away. “To have you. To be the one you trust.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away, my heart swelling with emotion. “Joe...”

“I’m serious,” he said, his hand moving up to cup my cheek. “You could’ve chosen anyone, Y/N. But you chose me. And I don’t take that lightly.”

I leaned into his touch, my heart aching with how much love I felt for him in that moment. “I chose you because you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “You make me feel safe, Joe. You make me feel loved.”

He smiled then, that soft, lopsided grin that always made my heart flutter. “I’m gonna keep doing that,” he murmured, his lips brushing over mine. “For as long as you’ll let me.”

I kissed him then, slow and sweet, pouring everything I felt into the simple gesture. When we pulled back, I rested my forehead against his, our breaths mingling in the quiet space between us.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, my voice steady despite the emotion swirling inside me. “I’m yours, Joe.”

His arms wrapped around me then, pulling me into his chest as he held me close. We stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. It didn’t matter that the day had been long, or that practice had worn him out. In this moment, it was just us—together, safe, and completely in love.

He smiled then, his eyes softening as he leaned in to kiss me. It was a slow, lingering kiss, full of all the love and promises we had been building between us. When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips brushing over mine again. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joeburrow #joe burrow smut #bengals

347 notes · View notes

silkscream · 7 months ago

Text

our boredom's bone-deep

ੈ✩ aki hayakawa x reader

ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), unprotected sex, drunk sex, angst, alcohol, smoking, hurt/comfort, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of s*icidal ideation

ੈ✩ wc: 3.8k

ੈ✩ a/n: theyre both so repressed. also sorry about the tswift reference guilty as sin is just on repeat this week

“Yo.”

Aki turns around to see you walking towards him. You join him on the balcony, reaching over to steal his cigarette back from the breast pocket of his windbreaker.

He looked good in civilian clothes. You didn’t see him like this often – out of his dress shirt and tie with his hair down. Dressed casually like he was a normal boy and not a hunter who signed his soul over.

“You can ask first, you know,” Aki grumbles, watching as you light up the cigarette in your mouth.

“You were going to say yes, anyway.”

He rolls his eyes, knowing that it’s true. He’d taken you to his apartment because it was closer to the location of the mission, offering aid to the wounds you’d gotten in the face of a devil. He didn’t have to. You could still walk and you certainly weren’t dying, but he felt the need to keep you close, anyway.

You chuckle when you see the irritated look on his face.

“Don’t pout.”

The cigarette in his mouth is burned down to the nub. You take it out, grazing the cherried end against the ceramic eightball ashtray you’d gotten him for Christmas the year before. The paint was chipping from how often he used it, speckles of white against the black paint.

You take another cig out from the pack before placing it back into his pocket, holding the stick between your fingers up to his mouth and lighting it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“You’re very welcome,” you grin.

You stay like that for a few minutes. Smoking and silent, staring at the sky post-golden hour, when everything is blanketed in cobalt blue bleeding into a light orange.

“How are your cuts?”

“I’m fine,” you chuckle. “Why do you worry so much? I’ve been around longer than you have, you know.”

Aki merely shrugs. He doesn’t look at you. Holds in his emotions like a geyser begging to stay dormant.

“I just do,” he says plainly.

“How sweet,” you scoff, flicking your cigarette off the railing. “Thought you liked me the least, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, irritated. “You’re the one who trained me. Obviously, I don’t hate you.”

You merely chuckle, discarding your blazer. Your uniform shirt is still slightly bloodied.

“What, you think I don’t like you?” Aki asks, a brow raised.

“I’d be surprised if you liked anyone,” you shrug. “But I can tell you have a soft spot for Denji and Power, even if you refuse to admit it.”

He grunts, looking away from you as he finishes his second cigarette. The late spring breeze blows his hair into his face. He doesn’t realize how close he is to you until he adjusts his arms on the balcony, his elbow grazing yours. You don’t react, your chin tucked into your arms as you lean forward. He looks at you with curiosity.

You look at him finally and grin.

“You look better with your hair down, you know.”

“I was thinking about cutting it,” he mumbles.

“Don’t. It’s cute. I always thought you looked kind of like a girl. The hair is working.”

He rolls his eyes again, grimacing. He tries to hide his flush.

“Thanks,” he deadpans. “You know how to make a guy feel special.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“What do you mean?” you grin. “You think I’m scary and mean? I’m very sweet to my lovers, you know.”

He could cringe. That wasn’t what he meant. He shivers at the word “lover” like it’s taboo, knowing very well that images of you are flooding his brain against his will. Your proximity makes it worse, how even despite both of you getting roughed up during your mission, you still smelled sweet to him.

“Yeah, right.”

“Do you really think I’m so cruel?” you challenge him. He’s not going to take the bait. He won’t.

“I’d assume you were a sadist.”

“You think I’m a sadist?” you laugh.

“Probably,” Aki grumbles. He fidgets.

He doesn’t want to take out another cigarette, but he’s convinced that it’s the only thing that would help him tolerate your presence right now. He’d felt unusual since he took you back to this apartment. His nose wrinkles at the memory of your body hours prior, your side saturated in blood. His rabbit heart thumping out of his chest at the thought you’d die in his arms — and yet here you are, next to him, teasing like you always do.

“Why?”

“Because you love pushing me to my limits,” he mutters.

“Oh, come on,” you chuckle. “It’s not like I treat you like a toy. I’m not Makima.”

“What does Makima have to do with this—”

“Because you listen to everything she says. It’s like all of you fucking worship her.”

Your voice sounds bitter, but Aki doesn’t want to pry about it. For some reason, something in his chest riles him, makes his heartbeat faster at the prospect that you might be jealous of his devotion to Miss Makima. You’d always clashed in your beliefs but was never particularly candid about it – you were like him. You wanted to kill devils for the sake of avenging your family, but you also seemed apathetic about your life. With no family or a promising future, you often didn’t care if you died. It was the most frustrating thing about you.

Aki huffs. “You hate following rules yet you’re still controlling. It’s hypocritical.”

“I am not controlling.”

“You are. And you love to torment me because I’m the only one willing to put up with your shit,” he says, laughing humorlessly. You don’t know that he would do anything you told him, that he didn’t give a fuck about Makima. It had always been you, at the forefront of both his blissful dreams and worst nightmares.

“I like your resilience,” you say quietly.

“Resilience?”

You nod slowly. “You’re the strongest person I know, Aki.”

He hates how much dopamine fills his brain when you say this. The smallest praises from you would have him hung up, lately. Even a smile was motivating, though he’d rather die than admit that to anyone. He was never one to pine or yearn, keeping to himself since he was young. No girl could pry anything out of him that wasn’t surface-level until you.

He hated it. It felt like a weakness.

“Yeah, right.”

“I mean it.”

“If I’m actually that strong, I probably would’ve broken down your walls by now.”

It could be a teasing statement, but he tucks his expression away into the fabric of his jacket, looking away from you. You’re so close to him, close enough to touch, but he still holds himself back.

“You should save your efforts,” you mumble.

Aki looks at you with narrowed eyes and tries to scan your face for anything telling, but you’re as stoic as him. He’d always found it frustrating, how he could never get anything out of you. He didn’t know how to be selfish. He was apprehensive about provoking you despite how much he wanted to.

“Why?”

You finally look him in the eye. Your features are painted with stubborn contempt as you glare at him.

“Because I’m not worth it.”

Your words strike him through the heart. You weren’t one to be particularly insecure – he’d known this since he met you. But your words now are trying to downplay how much he feels for you, and he won’t have it.

Aki moves close enough to you to smell your breath.

“You don’t get to decide whether or not I waste my time on you,” he protests.

You stare at him. You’re surprised he wants to know you at all. You’ve barely processed the meaning behind his words, the possibility of him wanting you beyond mission support and devil-hunting guidance. Both of you had walls up and that was fine. You never had any intention of breaking any of his, regardless of how often he showed up in your dreams. No matter how often you’d find yourself glancing at him, drinking up his features until you had snapped yourself out of it.

“You can’t want things as a devil hunter,” you say blankly, staring at the dark sky. “There’s no use. Desire is the root of all suffering and shit, right? Like in Buddhism?”

Aki feels his face warm up, his frown deepening as you say this without even looking at him.

“I’ll suffer for you if I want to,” he says firmly.

“Always a masochist,” you whisper, sighing. You smile weakly at him.

“Maybe I am a masochist.”

“I know. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be a devil hunter, huh?”

“Why are you a devil hunter?” he raises a brow.

“Because it’s better than killing myself. If I die because of this job, at least I died being useful, you know?”

He swallows thickly at the thought of your death. He’d imagined it a thousand times since he met you and realized how sardonic you were, how little you cared about your own life. You were a mirror of him.

“Don’t say shit like that,” he says, his tone cold.

“It’s the truth.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not letting you die.”

You stare at him, the expression on your face unreadable. Your eyes look dim.

“Thanks,” you mutter. You slide the glass door open and go back inside. Aki feels his lungs ache.

Eventually, he follows you in and sees you on the couch, staring blankly at the television with a bottle of whiskey in your hand. He rolls his eyes. You were just as bad as Kishibe these days.

He sits down next to you without a word, stealing the bottle to take a gulp, flinching. You watch with amusement. He grimaces at you.

“What?” he asks, irritated.

“You can do better than that.”

He wants to wipe the smirk off your face. Maybe with his mouth. He blinks at you a little too fast, then distracts himself with another gulp. A longer one that makes his throat burn, his head dizzy. You laugh.

“I fucking hate you,” he grumbles.

“I didn’t force you to do it,” you scoff.

No, you didn’t. But it was always easy for Aki to do things for you. He often wanted to, didn’t ask any questions. You always wondered why.

“Would you roll around like a dog if I asked you to?” you grin.

“Fuck off.”

You lay down, perching your legs over his lap. He sets his hands on your thigh like it’s second nature to him. You scan his features. His midnight eyes glisten with the blue of the television reflecting in his irises, his mouth downturned into a default pout.

“You should keep your hair down more often.”

He looks at you with surprise, like he’d forgotten you were there.

“Pretty boy,” you mumble.

“You’re drunk.” He tries to keep his expression level. His face is hot from the whiskey, not you, he tells himself.

You shift your position and your foot grazes his crotch. It makes his breath hitch, the creature of want inside him gnawing at his heart. He thinks maybe you’re teasing him, so he takes your foot and rubs it. You raise a brow.

You’re sitting up now, grunting as you do. He pretends that you aren’t staring at him.

“Does it still hurt?” he murmurs.

“Nah. I’m good.”

There’s contempt on his face when he looks at you, his eyes tracing your collarbone just for a second before gazing at the blood on your shirt. Speckled shapes turning from red to brown.

“Let me see.”

“Aki. I’m fine.”

“Let me see,” he mumbles.

You sigh, unbuttoning your shirt until you’re only in a sports bra. He frowns at your wound, how the gauze is dark and nearly falling off.

“Why didn’t you tell me it needed to be changed?”

“It’s fine—”

“No,” he scolds. “Stay still.”

He pins you down by your hips. Somehow, he’s in between your legs, his face frowning in concentration as he looks at your skin. He gets up to grab the first aid kit.

You take another sip of whiskey.

It numbs the pain when he fixes you up again. His fingers are delicate when they handle you — you can’t help but stare at the way they move when he blots your cut. A small press to the center and you feel it sting, making you hiss. He grips you by the waist to disarm you.

Stay still.

“There,” he breathes, kneeling on the floor in front of you. “It’s more secure now.”

He looks at your stomach, watching the rise and fall of your skin as you breathe. You reach out and pat his head like he’s a pet.

Aki was a cute drunk. Still stoic, but malleable in your hands. There are moments during group outings when he opens up a little, places his head on your shoulder. Looks at you for a bit longer than he normally allows himself to.

He presses his cheek to your thigh and sighs as you skim the nape of his neck with your fingers. You stroke his jaw. It’s the closest he’s ever been to you.

Your thumb hooks on his mouth briefly and you feel his tongue on the pad of your fingertip. He looks up at you with half-lidded eyes. Glazed over in the dimness, dripped in syrup.

“You’re barely awake,” you breathe. “I should go.”

“No.” He grips your wrist when you pull your hand away, saliva from his mouth creating the string of fate. The sight made your heart sing. Disgusting.

“Why?” you whisper.

He’s quiet. He could bite the bullet, let the heat of it soar straight through his chest so you can see all the gory bits of desire in him. The whiskey only exacerbated the feeling. He was usually good at keeping it down, despite clinging to you like an extra limb. You probably saw right through him.

“Just stay,” he mutters.

“Make me stay, then.”

He hides his face in your lap again. He feels like such a boy. When you run your fingers through his hair again, he pulls away and grabs both of your wrists, pulling you toward him until you fall onto his lap, his body on the floor. He grips your hips and stares at you from below.

“What are you doing? You wanna wrestle?” you joke half-heartedly.

“No,” he slurs quietly. “You’re hurt.”

Aki sits up and leans on the back of his elbows. He looks at you like he’s eager prey, offering himself on a platter, but he won’t say it. It’s killing you.

“C’mon,” you grin. “I can take it.”

“Stop.”

You pin him to the ground. You’re playing. It’s just that and nothing else, isn’t it?

“Aki,” you say. Your face is so close to his. Your breath smells like tobacco and cinnamon, your neck like petrichor.

“I’m not letting you provoke me,” he groans.

You roll your eyes. “Stop trying to take care of me.”

“But I want to,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible.

“Then I’ll take care of you. I’m your senpai, remember?”

His face is hot again, sweat sticking to his shoulder blades. Fuck, he needed to fix the fan since Power and Denji had broken it while wrestling. The memory reminds him of the position he’s in right now and a flush creeps up his neck.

“I–”

Your mouth interrupts him. It’s an experimental peck. Impulsive. It’s short, but Aki groans into it and touches his tongue with yours. You pull away with wide eyes.

There’s hunger in his gaze, something like desperation. You could work with this. You knew that you had Aki wrapped around your finger since he started at Public Safety, but you didn’t know he would be like this.

He breathes deeply, dark lashes blinking at you from the mess of his bangs. His dick was infallibly hard since you’d straddled him. It was aching now underneath your cunt — there was no hiding it.

He narrows his eyes, trying to disguise how much he wants you.

“Thought you said desire is the root of all suffering.”

“I guess we’re both masochists, then,” you whisper.

He kisses you with more force this time, buries his mouth into your neck to exhale the scent of his shampoo in your hair. Drunk on you. He sucks a hickey into your flesh like it’s payback.

He groans when he feels your hands underneath his shirt, rubbing against the pale skin of his abdomen until he takes the liberty to pull the fabric off himself. Aki has always been pretty – like a girl, like you’d told him before. He was also remarkably boyish. The shy type. He’d seem to grow muscles over the past year, his lean figure always hidden by the uniform.

“Stop staring at me like that,” he huffs.

“Get uglier, then,” you roll your eyes, pulling at the zipper of his jeans.

He lets you handle him like a doll.

“Thought you’d be rougher,” you whisper.

“You’ve… thought about this before?” he asks.

You blink at him, then look away.

“Once or twice.”

“I’m not gonna be rough with you,” he says, his voice lower than before. “Not when you got stabbed earlier today.”

“Told you I’m a masochist,” you chuckle dryly. You strip off your slacks, showing off your less-than-sexy cotton underwear. He grazes your core, the wet patch growing larger with your slick.

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles, mesmerized. He licks his lips, wanting to taste you, lust transparent on his face. It humiliated you, for some reason — you were always used to it rough and fast, your vision blurred while you took cock that you didn’t give a shit about. This was different. This was real.

You put your fingers in his mouth again, pinning him down. He moans when you spit on the head of his cock, palming him gently. Taming him.

You slide your panties off of your legs and do the same with his briefs. When you hover over him, your throat feels tight. He keeps looking at you like you created him. Like you were the world itself.

His tip catches on the slick of your cunt, circling your entrance. Your blood boils, every ventricle in your body sparking to life. You feel him buck his hips, desperate and rutting.

“Use me,” he groans, muffled from your fingers on his tongue.

You sink down on him and his eyes roll back. You remove your fingers from his mouth to toy with your clit, whimpering at the sensation of him filling you up. He was bigger than you expected.

Aki shudders from sensitivity. Alcohol usually numbs his senses, but he can feel all of you, how hot and tight you are. It’s driving him mad. He hiccups through moans, his throat raw.

Your cunt pulses as you grind on him, trembling above him as you try to keep your hips from stuttering too much. Already, you were about to fall apart.

“Fuck,” Aki mutters.

Your hand grazes his face and jaw, and he leans into your palm to kiss it earnestly. Your face burns as you tangle your fingers in his raven hair. When he rises to kiss you, you pull his strands while your other hand holds him back by his shoulder. He groans and thrusts upward into you, holding your hips so that your thighs are flush against his.

Your pulse throbs against the cave of your chest. Aki is desperate to kiss you, to get his tongue in your mouth, so he uses your own trick on you – pulls you in with force and grabs a fistful of your hair. You moan into his mouth, tapering off into a whimper, and you feel him let out a breathy laugh in between kisses.

Aki lets himself be a little loud — no one else was home, and fucking you was cathartic. He squeezes the fat of your thigh, his lunacy suppressed into his tight fists. Entranced by the sight of your cunt swallowing up his dick.

You whimper as your knees start to get rug burn, the skin as raw as the love bites on your neck. Your stomach stirs, ecstasy boiling in the pit. You could pretend it was love from the way he gripped you.

“You’re fucking tight,” he grunts.

“Do you like it?” you rasp. You almost sound like you’re begging.

He nods and holds your face, his other hand making an imprint on your waist. Aki was so much taller than you — his size didn’t register until now, the way he was forcing your chin up to look up into his eyes.

He can barely speak, only letting out choked moans and heavy breaths. You look so vulnerable despite being on top of him. He could picture it now, your thighs shaking with arms outstretched to him in morning light. Bare-faced and illuminated, not a bruise on your body. Happy in another life.

“Fuck, Aki,” you moan.

“Again,” he breathes.

“What?”

“Say my name again. Like that.” Like you love me.

“A-Aki,” you whine, gasping for air. “Close.”

A rush of blood to the head. He almost wants to tell you he loves you, force you to say it back to him in between swapping spit. Even if it was just pretend.

You writhe as you cum. Heat-struck by the coil breaking in your stomach. It was like he was melting your insides. He feels your cunt twitch and spills into you with a groan, nose buried in your hair.

He winces as he pulls out of you, his cum getting the carpet wet. He’ll have to clean it up later. He breathes heavily and looks anywhere but your face.

“Lie down with me,” you whisper.

So he does, face to face with you, his arm loose over your waist. He wants to kiss you, but he assumes you’ve had your fill. He wonders if you’ll ever toy with him like that again. He hates himself for how badly he wants it.

But then you look at him, your eyes searching his for meaning. Unspoken words.

“You okay, baby?”

He’s shocked at the nickname, blushing like he didn’t just fuck you to the moon and back.

He nods, blinking rapidly when you stroke his jaw gently. Branding him with tenderness. Maybe he shouldn’t have slept with you. He didn’t want to be a sycophant, but he still felt attached to you, and it would only get worse from here. Stuck on his heart like chewed gum.

“Angel boy,” you sigh, hazed. You’re still a little drunk. “Pretty.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a dog.”

“What are you, then?”

He says nothing. You smile. The warmth in his chest is immeasurable. It aches like a wound that never heals. He supposes that’s what you are for him. But what is he?

“Yours.”

#aki hayakawa smut #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa x you #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man fanfiction #csm smut #chainsaw man x you #chainsaw man x reader #csm x you #csm x reader

731 notes · View notes

smileysuh · 7 months ago

Text

comfort cuisine - TEASER

🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You’ve never felt a feral need like this before, but it’s not necessarily the primal type of drive. Instead, it’s a feeling of wanting to be close to this man- who you’ve been next to for so many years, but unable to touch. Except, he’s touching you now, and you want more.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, breast worship/massaging, big dick Johnny, fingering, pussy stretching prep, 'it's finger licking good,' praise, dirty talk, masturbation, multiple reader orgasms, cumming together, creampie, soft sex, longing, fluff, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 10.8k

🍭 aus. aged up/widower dad!John, best friends to lovers, Chef!John, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I'm so happy that people loved Line Chef Mark in my fic Real Talk, I received so many messages about giving Head Chef John his own love story, and this is what I came up with in the past four months :) it's a little different from what I normally do, but I wanted to continue with that 'slice of life' theme and venture into a plot line I've never tried before with widower/single dad John :)

“So two line chefs called in, huh?” you prompt, tucking your legs up and making room for the large man on the sofa.

“I expected it from Haechan, but Mark’s generally pretty reliable. His girlfriend was on shift today, so I know he wasn’t skipping to be with her- I’m guessing they got pretty messed up last night.”

“They’re young,” you point out, accepting a beer from him. “We used to be young.”

“Used to be,” Johnny laughs, taking a swig of his drink.

Looking at this man- this father, you realize maybe he never really got the chance to be young. At twenty five, he had a six year old, he wasn't running around blacking out and getting hung over, he was working his way up the employment ladder, dreaming about a better future for his daughter.

“You mentioned Mark has a girlfriend, I think I’ve heard about her a few times now, it’s interesting that she was in and he wasn’t.”

“I’m going to be honest, I love Mark, he’s a great kid- but, he can sometimes be peer pressured into things. Haechan has a hold on Mark unlike any I’ve seen, they bring out… interesting sides of each other.”

You laugh at the description, and it’s clear there’s more on Johnny’s mind, so you wait for him to continue.

“It’s nice that Mark is young and in love, I can understand that- but at the same time, I just hope he doesn’t make the same mistakes I did. Not that Soonbok is a mistake, of course- I just mean that… life is fragile. You think you’re going to be with someone forever, and then you’re reminded of how frail things can be.”

You frown at his words. Even after all of these years, Johnny still holds so much pain about his lost wife. You want to do your best to help Johnny in every aspect of his life, especially emotional, but this is a topic you never know how to approach. He’s right for grieving, his ex was his first love, his true love- how is there anything you could ever say to make him feel better about her passing?

You open your mouth, only to close it, and Johnny watches you intently. Sometimes he looks at you, the way he’s looking at you right now, and you wonder if he feels the same level of connection with you that you feel with him. You wonder if he wants you to kiss him, if a kiss would make him feel better, if it would - if even for a moment - help him forget about the pains he’s faced in his life.

But it’s because of the pains he’s faced that neither of you can close the distance, you’d like to think about it that way at least. Even after all these years, it’s still too early, so you simply reach out and gently squeeze his hand.

Johnny offers you a smile, and you’re glad that in some small way, maybe you’ve helped him.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 3.1k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr Friday, May 17th, 2024

🔮 see what’s already available to read on my m.list

taglist is limited, to ensure a tag please reply, reblog with a comment, or reblog, those who do one of those three options will be prioritized when it comes to posting day

I'll do my best to post a link to the fic here as soon as it's on tumblr

#johnny suh #johnny suh smut #nct #nct 127 smut #nct smut #johnny nct #johnny nct smut #nct johnny smut

445 notes · View notes

logansargeantsbabymom · 7 months ago

Text

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt2

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader, Grid x Fem!Reader

warnings: cursing, pregnancy, shit-talking, grid baby

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I part 7 I part 8 I part 9 I part 10

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

instagram

It had been 5 months since my last encounter with Logan. Well, the last time I actually talked to him, if you would consider the argument we had as “talking”.

After I stormed out the house with my suitcase I made my way to my Best Friend Lily’s house and told her everything. Since Lily lives with Alex, he obviously heard everything that happened and absolutely reamed Logan a new asshole.

Lily and Alex were nice enough to let me stay at their place until I was able to get on my own feet again. Lily was adamant on making me stay until after the baby was at least 6 months old, so that I could comfortably move everything out without dealing with either a pregnancy bump or a newborn that would need constant attention.

Today was the Miami Grand Prix and I attended to cheer on my Grid family and the second Logan’s eyes fell on me, he sprinted over, his hand immediately touching my stomach

“oh my baby, how are you my love? how’s she doing for you?” Logan said coming in to try and place a soft kiss to my lips, only for me to step back “cmon babe. i’ve done everything to win you back, let me just be with you. i need to be in my daughters life” Logan said with pleading eyes.

“and you will be, just not with me in yours,” i say, removing his hands from my bump “and don’t touch my stomach without my permission, especially when it’s hot outside.”

Logan looked shocked at my comment but tried to shrug it off putting his hands right back on my stomach “my pretty girl, tell your mommy to forgive daddy, daddy didn’t mean what he said”

“Hey! She fucking said to stop touching her.” a voice yells, Logan turn to see who interrupted his time with both his love and his baby

“Listen Lando, this doesn’t concern you.” Logan scoffed attempting to put his hands right back on my stomach but Lando quickly stepped in front of me.

“It actually does concern me, seeing as you’re touching my girlfriend AFTER she told you to stop.” Lando’s voice stern, absolutely shocking Logan

“your girlfriend?” Logan looked sad, heartbroken and utterly confused

“yes, MY girlfriend,” Lando started “The woman you let slip away, the woman who might be carrying your baby but will probably see me as her dad, the woman you mistreated, the woman of my dreams and my beautiful, strong, confident girlfriend”

My hormones were absolutely not on my side because the more Lando went on, the more I started crying.

I’ve never felt this type of love with Logan, I mean yeah in the beginning of the relationship it was pure bliss, but after the first 2 months it was just like we were roommates that fucked and occasionally told the other we loved them whenever we were in private.

In public however, we seemed like the happiest ever, like there was nothing wrong in our world. That we were obsessed with each other, like the world would stop revolving if we were conjoined at the hip.

I can admit, for 2 weeks after my breakup with Logan and blurting out that I was once again with child, I couldn’t stop thinking about how cruel it would be to my daughter to not be with her father and for a second I almost went running back to Logan and begged him to forgive me for my outburst and to take me back. When I went to confide in Lando and ask him if I should go back, he told me that was the dumbest thing I could’ve done because if it is beneficial for my daughter it would be the worst years of my life knowing her dad thinks so lowly of me.

Lando was really my rock during my whole breakup and pregnancy, he encouraged me to move out of Lily and Alex’s house and into his in case something happened in the middle of the night, if I needed something and just because he overall thought I shouldn’t have to live alone while I was pregnant.

Lily thought it was weird that I moved into Lando’s place just 2 weeks after moving in with her but she made me promise to go over to hers at least once a day so she could talk to her niece.

I was quickly pulled out of my daze when I felt a small tug on my arm. It was Lando urging me into the McLaren garage after Logan started throwing a hissy fit.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Lando said with a light chuckle to ease the mood, placing his hand on the small of my back before quickly yanking it away. “Sorry, I know you just yelled at Logan for touching you without permission, and I just did the same thing. Can I touch you?” Lando asks, genuinely upset that he did the same thing I reprimanded Logan for, the only difference? I craved Lando’s touch, whereas Logan’s sent a nasty shiver down my spine.

Both my hands taking both of Lando’s. One hand I guide to the small of my back and the other I guide to my bump and I watch as Lando’s eyes widen.

This is the first time I’ve let someone other than Lily touch my belly and Lando was determined to take in this moment. The look of excitement evident on his face as he feels her kick.

“OH MY GOSH, DID YOU FEEL THAT? I mean- obviously you felt that, she’s inside of you but SHE KICKED Y/N/N, SHE KICKED!” Lando screamed in excitement, almost like a kid in a candy shop.

The look of adoration and love on Lando’s face made my heart almost burst. I drowned out all the excited squeals from Lando as I pulled him in for a kiss, smiling into it.

“You’re so cute when you’re excited,” I start saying before seeing the engineers ushering Lando to his car "Okay lover boy, give me a kiss and go to your car" I said pulling him right back into a quick kiss.

"Can I give baby a kiss too?" Lando asks with pleading eyes

"LANDO, GET A MOVE ON MATE! RACE STARTS IN 5" Oscar yells from the inside of his car before putting his helmet on

I chuckled before giving Lando a nod watching him as he quickly leans down and presses a firm kiss on the top of my belly before dedicating the race to my unborn daughter.

Dedicating a race to someone is a big task, if you end with a bad position or DNF it makes everything awkward but I have faith that Lando will end up on the podium.

We’re now down to the last 10 laps and the gap from Lando in first and Max in second just keeps getting bigger and bigger. The anxiety I’m feeling right now is worse than when I was waiting for my pregnancy test results.

The amount of laps only decreased and with every lap down, the gap grew. Once we were down to the last lap and the gap from Lando to Max was at a whopping 7.7 seconds everyone knew that Lando had secured his first win, he just needed to not fuck up and crash.

Once the checkered flag came into view, tears welled up in my eyes. Not only had Lando secured his first Formula 1 win but he had prior dedicated this race to my babygirl.

As the team ran to the pit lane, Zak came to view and offered me his arm which I gladly took as we made our way to where Lando would soon be.

"Lando's lucky to have you by his side, I know he dedicated his race to the little one," Zak starts. I can tell Zak wants to add more but he doesn't want to overstep a boundary, but with a nod of approval from me, he continues. "How do you feel about this whole Lando-Logan situation?"

"What do you mean?" I cock an eyebrow at him

"I mean with Logan being your daughters biological father but Lando being more of a full-time dad than Logan'll be?" a confused look falls over my features as I think over Zak's question. "I mean no disrespect Y/N, just curious."

"No, no I mean. We wouldn't be in this situation if Logan hadn't acted the way he did, so if he doesn't see his daughter as often as he wants that's his problem." I said nonchalantly shrugging. "But no more Logan talk. Lando actually finished the race and finished first, I think we should all celebrate." I say as I unlock my arm from Zak's as I watch Lando get put down from the crowd of McLaren engineers as he makes his way to me, wrapping an arm around me pulling me into a big sweaty hug.

"Oh my gosh Lando, I love you but you smell incredibly sweaty and it's gonna make me throw up." I say half joking as I gag, not even noticing the slip up. Not at least until I see Lando smile impossibly harder, " what?"

"You said you love me" I didn't even have a chance to process that I did in fact say that I loved him because Lando pulled me into a hot and steamy kiss, one that for sure would also make the news in a few minutes.

"I mean I didn't think that I'd be able to love, especially not after Logan. You changed that for me, but my god, please get on the podium and shower. I'm going to throw up." I say with love, adoration, proudness and sickness in my voice all at once.

"I love you so much more. You and baby" Lando says before pressing another quick kiss to my lips before being dragged to the cool down room

After the podium celebration and a shower Lando makes his way to me, pressing a tender kiss to my lips before asking me "All of the grid some team principals are going to this one bar, it's karaoke night. I really want to go but if you're not feeling up to it, we can just stay in at the hotel."

"Baby, you just scored your first win. Of course we can go." I say as I put my hand on his cheek before moving it to his hair, running my finger though it.

When we got to the bar we automatically spot the rest of the grid. I mean how could we not, they took up half the bar space?

"Baby, you can go grab a seat, I'm gonna grab us drinks, and before you say anything. Yes, I'm getting you a f/d." Lando said pressing a kiss to my temple.

"You know me so well. I'm gonna go say hi to everyone." I said as I squeezed Lando's hand before making my way to the group of drivers, WAGS, and team principals.

The second I was spotted by the WAGS they all made a beeline towards me peppering me with questions and asking if they could touch my tummy, all of which I gave permission to. I look at the rest of the table, waving at all of them and they all wave back knowing it might be a minute before they get a proper 'hello' because of all the attention my daughter is getting. I had made brief eye contact with Logan offering a tight-lipped smile before feeling a tap on my shoulder.

"Here you go, pretty girl" Lando says as he offers me my f/d which I gladly accept before looking back at Logan, only to find that his spot is empty. I don't give it much thought before I indulge myself in a conversation with the rest of the WAGS as Lando goes and has individual conversations about his win.

"Ladies and gentleman can I have your attention?" some lady says into the mic "the karaoke machine is now on and we already have our first request!" the bar erupts in claps and whoops as we all wonder who the first singer would be

"Singing 'Too Good to Say Goodbye' by Bruno Mars, put your hands together for Logan Sargeant"

My face fell as the song starts

"I've made mistakes, I could have treated you better. I let you get away. There goes my happily ever after." Logan starts, staring into my soul

"Tell me why, why can't we try and start again? This can't be how our story ends. You're more than my girl, you're my best friend. Tell me you remember when, ooh, I was your man and you were my girl It was you and me against the world" tears start welling in my eyes as he continues singing.

A firm hand on my shoulder pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn to see that its Zak

"Don't you love Bruno Mars, why aren't you singing?" I stare at him, the tears on my waterline threatening to fall. I don't answer him though, I just turn my body back to the man on the stage.

"Yeah, I'm still in love with you darlin'. I know you feel the same Oh, what's the point of both of us being broken hearted? I pray it's never too late" Me? Still in love with you? In your dreams Sargeant

"Girl won't you listen? It's you that I'm missin' . Take my hand, I wanna go, I wanna go. If we're gonna fight this fight for better days. I know we're gonna make it. This is the chance, let's take it." From another person's perspective, this would seem like a nice grand gesture to win back the woman of his dreams. I mean who wouldn't want their man to sing a song about wanting a second chance after he royally screwed up?

"Baby, ain't nobody gonna love me like the way you do. And you ain't never gonna find a love like mine. Tell me what can I do to make it up to you? 'Cause what we got's too good to say goodbye goodbye Baby, ain't nobody gonna love me like the way you do. And you ain't never gonna find a love like mine. Tell me what can I do to make it up to you? 'Cause what we got's too good to say goodbye, goodbye" The songs ends and half the bar erupts on claps and whistles as Logan stares in my eyes before talking into the mic.

"Y/N, baby, I know I screwed up. I'm trying to make this work. For you and our babygirl, just please give me a chance. I don't ask for much, really. Just a chance to undo my wrongs, a chance to make you the happiest woman on earth, a chance to rebuild our family. I want a chance to be in my daughter's life" Logan said sniffling as he wiped his nose before continuing "I really hope you liked this and it's enough to change your mind." Logan finished as he hopped off the stage making his way to me

Lando's protective side started to show a bit because the second he picked up that Logan was making his way to me he instinctively stepped in front of me, only backing up when I rested my hand on his bicep.

"Why? Why would you assume that I'll get back with you after that Logan?" I ask, my eyes raking his face for any type of clues. I don't know what I was expecting to come out of his mouth, but the reply he gave me wasn't it. It also not only made my blood boil, but everyone who knew about the situation's blood boil.

"Zak said you would"

I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS ONEEEEEE <3333

Lemme know if I should keep going!!!

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @eddieharrington

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSesvRpKqBaYY-Ow5IgHoD0gSX6OzJ03qGMXOhHUI6Xg1wfKaA/viewform

419 notes · View notes