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oceantornadoo · 3 months ago

Text

rose scented scrubs

ex-husband Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x f!reader

the post-divorce love confession fic of my dreams, word count 5.5k

ps I know Dana said it was her last shift in one of the episodes but idc deal with it I had to write her.

It was a few hours into your book when you realized you’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.

It had been the first cafe to catch your eye, advertising a yummy pastry you’d been aching to try on a beautiful late Saturday morning. Only after you’d noticed the fourth person in scrubs at the counter did you realize your mistake. The cafe had two entrances - one on the busy street you came in on, the other right outside of Pittsburg Medical Center.

Current workplace of your ex-husband.

You hadn't been near the hospital in months. When you'd been married (the past tense of it a hard pill to swallow, let alone think), you would drive by the hospital on your way to work, leaving early so you could stop by and get a kiss from the man who'd already been up since 5am. After the papers were signed, ink dried and heart broken, you told yourself to revel in those extra twenty minutes of sleep. Now you could drive straight to work, no pit stop needed, and all you had to give up was your marriage.

An almost-kid in black scrubs burst through the door, scanning his phone like his life depended on it. With his flustered expression, he looked like the stereotype of a country boy losing his way in the big city. You checked the clock - 3pm. A little over halfway into the usual twelve-hour shift from 7 to 7. The knowledge sprang up unbidden, carved into your brain by how long you’d lived and breathed it. “Hello! Can I get one black coffee, no cream or sugar, two lattes, regular milk…” he ended with a total of ten drinks, an amount the barista behind the counter barely seemed flustered by. At least for one of them, it wasn’t their first day on the job. He ended up near your chair and the urge to ask was too great, desperation clawing its way out of your throat.

“Are they making the interns get drinks now?” You quip, immediately cursing yourself. There was absolutely no reason to interact, who knows if he’s even in Robby’s department, why- “Yeah, actually. We had a pretty rough time last month, so the admin staff is giving us a new food and drink stipend instead of more staff.” He laughs to himself before remembering that you're a stranger, his cheeks apple red. “Are you a doctor?” He asks. Now it just sounded creepy if you said no, but there was absolutely no chance you could say yes. “No, but I’ve got friends at the hospital.” Friends being Dana, who forces you into monthly mental health check ins where she stares at you until you cry.

“Who’s your friend? If you want, you could stop by with me. I haven’t memorized her name yet, well it’s only my first month, but the front desk worker is super nice, especially since the ER is slow right now.” You gulp at the pit (figurative, not literal) that you’ve dug yourself into. Of course you had to talk to the ER intern. It couldn’t have been Peds, where they’d invite you to say hi to cute babies from the NICU glass? You’ve done it once or twice, bored of waiting on Robby and making friends with all the nurses.

You open to give your refusal and apologies but get interrupted by the barista shouting “Dennis!” Three containers of drinks appear out of nowhere, and you can’t help but cringe at how Dennis has no way to carry them all. He’s currently attempting to balance one on top of the other, and your duty as a Good Samaritan suddenly becomes clear. The thought of seeing Dana, and perhaps Collins or McKay if you’re lucky, makes your heart swell. Robby will be easy to avoid if you stay vigilant. Tucking your book into your tote, you stand and prepare yourself for battle. It’s easy to make your way to Dennis, who looks like a circus performer, and grab two of the drink trays. “C’mon, kid. Let’s caffeinate these people.”

It feels like a dream you’ve dreamt a thousand times. Walking into the ER, looking fabulous with your makeup just right and your best perfume on. Dropping off a sick friend and running into Robby, stunning him with your six-month post-divorce glow up. Or maybe it’s a year later and you bring in an injured and scandalously younger boyfriend to show him what he’s missing. After those dreams, you always wake up empty, soul heavy. In other ones, it’s you on the gurney, letting him prove to himself he can save the people he loves, that you’re not just another Adamson. A romantic revelation that would fix those last hollow months of your marriage, grief and regret heavy on his tongue but never making its way out. Those end in tears, your face wet when you wake.

You’d never imagined this - your best weekend leggings and your favorite tote swinging from your shoulder as you follow in what has to be Robby's baby intern. You nod at the woman behind the counter, a new person you don’t know. She seems about to stop you from going in but then you hear a clear voice yell your name. So much for an in and out mission.

McKay greeted you with a warm smile, taking one of the drink trays from you as she nudges your shoulder. “Long time no see!” Her friendly tone makes you ache with regret. You’ve kept up with Dana only because she forced her way into your new, solitary life. It felt uncouth to reach out to McKay or Collins, like it would seem a ploy to get back to Robby. Shame ruins through your veins at your actions, or lack thereof. “Hey, I’m sorry for the ghosting. Been going through some stuff. I like your new bangs!” She doesn’t let you distract her, brows staying knitted at your second sentence. For once, you hate how determined she can be, her maternal instincts knowing no bounds. “What stuff?” McKay pulls you off the side, ignoring the drinks in both of your hands that are definitely in demand.

“Well, I’m sure you already know.” You roll your shoulder forward to emphasize your point. It’s pretty clear what you’re talking about, but the word ‘divorce’ feels too ugly to mention between you two. She doesn’t seem to get the memo, looking you up and down like she’s expecting the answer to pop out of the sweater you’re wearing. “I don’t get paid enough for you to waste my time being all facetious.” You snort, but the anticipation of your next words sobers you quickly. “Moving out, finding a new place, all the paperwork. It’s been a lot, but I should’ve kept up and I’m sorry.” Her lips purse in confusion. There’s a strain around her shoulders and you hate that this talk might be causing it, probably reminding her of her own divorce. “Did something happen at your old apartment? We don’t talk personal lives too much, but Robby would’ve mentioned a flood or something. Or did you guys finally get a bigger place?” The thought of that lightens her eyes, a rare smile you don’t see too much in the ER. Your heart sinks.

Robby didn’t tell her.

Of course, he left the hard stuff to you, once again. “Cass…” you trail off, unsure how to continue. Once again, you’re saved by an interruption. “What are you doing, robbing my best staff and not saying hi?” Dana appears, her short white-blond hair framing her face like a stern angel. You’ve haven’t seen her in a month and a half since she took some time off to deal with personal stuff after a particularly rough shift. She’s never been a big texter, so you anticipated more information at your future catch up, planned for next week. “I ran into one of the interns looking lost in the cafe over and simply had to help.” You tease. Your eyes meet hers but immediately look over her head, searching for him. Wherever she goes, he’s not far behind, always paying his dues in following her wisdom.

“He’s in Trauma 1, helping a drowning victim.” Fuck, you’re caught. Dana smirks at you like she’s inside your head. McKay’s eyes twinkle like there’s something romantic about to happen and you mourn the fact you’re about to give her yet another reason to not believe in a man, again. “I wasn’t looking for him, I was looking for Collins.” You bite, ignoring how McKay’s confusion has reached an all time high to your right. To distract them both, you push the drink tray forward. “I think there’s a hazelnut latte somewhere in here for you, Ms. Busybody.” Dana narrows her eyes as she finds the drink you’re talking about, plucking it out with precision. One drink down, three to go and then you can leave. That intern, Dennis, is nowhere to be found. You’d leave the drinks on the desk, but you know that would be a hazard in so many ways. Plus, some person would probably grab a drink that’s not theirs and you can’t be responsible for pandemonium - you know what lack of caffeine can do to a healthcare worker. Thankfully, the white lids read their contents: black coffee, hot tea, and…hot chocolate? Maybe there’s a kid who needed some comfort.

“Do you know who the rest are for?” You question. Dana shrugs and you can sense some ulterior motive behind her eyes. “Sounds like a question for Whittaker.” That must be Dennis. In the crowd of gurneys and scrubs, you can’t seem to find him. “The hot tea is for Collins and the hot chocolate is for Javadi, one of the interns. Of course, you know who the black coffee is for.” Double fuck.

You had hoped it was someone else who had a taste for black sludge, but unfortunately only one doctor does. Cowardly, you turn to McKay and give her your best try of puppy dog eyes. “Do you mind passing these out?” She snorts, clearly amused. “As if I’m getting between you and Robby mid shift. I remember last October all too well.” You stiffen at the memory. Surprising the staff with pumpkin cookies you’d baked, shrieking when Robby had grabbed you by the hips and ordered you into an unused storage room. How McKay had opened the door (“looking for supplies, I swear I did not want to see any of that”) with your hand in your husband’s scrubs and your leg, chilly in a skirt for easy access, wrapped around his waist.

“I see Collins. It was nice seeing you, McKay.” It’s a rude goodbye, but you can’t stomach anything more. Collins’ signature red jacket is easy to spot as she comes out of one of the nearby rooms, conferring sternly with what seems to be another intern. They just keep multiplying.

“Like I told you, you wait for my instructions, you don’t just intubate because-“ Your eyes catch and the emotional weight around your shoulders sags a bit more. She sends the intern off with one more warning before greeting you with a slight smile. “I heard you needed a hot tea.” You brandish the drink tray like a shield. She takes the cup delicately, taking a small sip and sighing in delight. “I haven’t seen you in six months. Work trip or something? Robby’s been worse than usual.” He didn’t tell her either. It’s starting to look like the only people who know about your divorce are you, Robby, and Dana. It begs the question why, but you’re not strong enough to answer. You know Collins would be a good person to confide in, but you don’t want to drop a bomb on what looks like an exhausting day. Her outward mask might be tough, but once you got over the awkwardness of her being Robby’s long-ago fling, you’ve always been able to see right through it.

“Something like that. You okay?” You move her off to the side before she can get swept into another case. She gives you another one of those barely-there smiles, and you ache to think that she’s been struggling with something, maybe worse than you. Maybe she sees something reflected back, because in a rare move, she opens up. “I had a miscarriage a month ago.” On instinct, you find an empty chair to set the drink tray on before sweeping her in your arms. She doesn’t like to be touched by many, especially at work, but she makes an exception for you.

“Oh, Heather.” It’s all you can say. She doesn’t cry, too battle worn and aware of the eyes on her, but the breath she takes is a near thing. After a few seconds, she pulls back, tight lipped and eyes shining. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there, but this isn’t about me. Oh, honey.” You murmur. You squeeze her hand, trying to impress on her all the things you cannot say. Heather Collins doesn’t like empty platitudes, so you don’t try to give her any. For a second, she squeezes your hand back before her mask slides back into place. “Thank you. Robby’s been kind, let me go home early the day it happened and pick the best shifts. It seems he kept it secret, so I’m thankful.” You don’t mention that the last time you talked to him was six months ago in a lawyers office. You know Robby and even if you were still together, he would’ve taken this secret to the grave. One of the things you love about him.

She switches the topic to you, asking about your supposed trip, but a miracle, or rather a group of interns, rumbles past you. You might not be a doctor but they’re easy to spot, unsure or overconfident, spilling unhelpful advice like gospel. “Hey! Any of you Javadi?” You call out. The girl nearest you whips her head around like you just cursed her name. She looks barely past college, hair pulled back into a ponytail of midnight black. “Me. I- that’s me.” You bend down, plucking the hot chocolate out of its tray and handing it to her. Her eyes are bright and thankful, like it's a winning lottery ticket instead of a drink. “Thank you! I’m sorry, I don’t know your name, Doctor…”

“Robby!” The middle intern says, her posture stiff with self-confidence. “Um…” you trail off, looking to Collins for help before remembering she doesn’t know. “I heard Princess and Perlah talking. You’re Robby’s wife, right?” All you can do is gape at the gall of her, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Collins restrains a laugh, unhelpful, and the other interns are looking at you like you’ve hung the stars. What in the world do you-

“Indeed. Last time I checked, this was a hospital to learn, not gossip. Keep it moving, you three.” His voice is like melted honey, warm and gooey and too comforting to name. Collins mentions something about a patient, taking her leave with raised eyebrows. It’s hard, but you try not to acknowledge the voice behind you as you watch her walk away. Only when her red jacket disappears from view do you turn.

He doesn’t look good. It’s what you said you wanted, of course, but the truth is, you’re just concerned. There’s dark circles under his eyes, almost covered by those black rounded glasses of his. A few new grays grace the side of his head, stark against the rest of him. The wrinkles on his face make him look aged, not the wise wizard you forced him to be for Halloween a few years ago. His scruffy beard dots his jawline and the ache to feel it is so deep, you fear it’ll never leave.

“Hi.” You whisper shyly, a knock-kneed girl instead of the woman you are. He smiles that gentle smile of his, crow's feet unapologetic, and it seems to turn back time. Just yesterday, you might’ve been making dinner together or cuddling on the couch. “Hi. I heard you’ve got a drink for me?” You nod, not trusting your voice as you point to the chair in between you. Deft fingers find his cup and pull. It’s hard not to watch them work, not to trace the calluses and the nimble movements. “Since when do interns order you around?” He asks, taking a second to gulp down his coffee. You stare at the movement of his throat, so many dirty memories making themselves known in the back of your head. “I’ve been demoted, I guess.” It didn’t mean to come out like that but it’s clear that’s what he thinks, a sudden frown appearing on his face.

“Is something wrong? Some paperwork I need to sign?” He asks in a burst. Your stomach churns at the rejection and instinctively, you take a step back. He seems to try to follow you, but the leg of the chair stops him. “No, I just - It’s funny, I guess. I was at that new cafe across the street and ran into an intern who looked like he needed help and well, I figured it would be nice to see Cassie and Heather, so here I am.” You end your rant with a shrug, instantly regretting every decision that led you here. Of course you were going to run into him. There wasn’t any other path, not for you. And of course, he just thinks you’re here for paperwork. He’s clearly moved on, even if he looks like he’s hurting. It’s time you do to.

“Well, that’s all my drinks, so…” Trailing off, you look around desperately for help. The Pitt seems to be against you, everyone following their standard practice of leaving you two alone when all you want is to be away from him. “How are you?” He whispers like a secret, voice raspy but sure. Emotion swells in your sternum instantly at his question. Soft eyes take your awkwardness in stride as he steps around the chair until he’s on your left, back to the Pitt. The familiarity of it is like a bullet to chest. “I’m fine. You?”

Robby shrugs, letting you trace the lines of his shoulders under that familiar sweatshirt. "Rough couple of months, to be honest." You blink at his honesty. That same honesty that led to that fateful conversation - you'd served him the divorce papers, but he was the one to suggest lawyers and due process. The papers were meant to wake him up, make him realize how much he needed to fix this, but all they did was end things.

"I wanted to see you. Dana wouldn't give me your new address, something about not being ready. Plus, I think you blocked me," he laughs at himself like it's funny, what he's admitting. A thousand questions form, 'why' and 'when' and 'what'. You'd blocked him and deleted his number the moment the papers finalized, knowing you weren't strong enough to truly recover if you could talk to him. It looks like he didn't do the same, and a rare burst of hope shines through the fog that's made itself at home in your brain. You gape, no words coming to you.

One of those hands, strong and capable and not yours, raises to push his glasses up his nose. You freeze.

It's still there.

Three years ago, ring shopping to find a perfect band. He got a black plastic version as well, something he could wear to work without worrying about blood or a rogue patient. That same black band still graces his ring finger, a blaring alarm that things aren't what they seemed.

"Michael." There's nothing else to add, your eyes still trained on his hand. Of course, all-seeing as he is, he picks up on what you're looking at right away. He's quiet, face worn with contemplation. "Why?" You ask, voice wavering. Tears form in an instant, choking any air in your lungs. "I couldn't take it off," he admits, somber. You think of your own ring, tucked away in your new bedstand that you had to build yourself. "I don't understand," you rasp.

"Baby, I've been-"

"Robby, we need you!" A voice breaks through the bubble you're in. Without realizing, you've become almost nose-to-nose, curling your hands to your chest in an attempt to not touch him. He sighs, pulling back a little, and it's like losing the warmth of the sun. "You know where the staff lounge is?" He asks, smiling when you nod immediately. "Wait for me. I'll be there soon." He hands you his coffee and rips himself away, already reaching for a hand sanitizer station.

In the staff lounge, your book sits unopened on the table. It's hard to do when your mind won't stop whirling, wondering if you've gotten this all wrong. The door bursts open and you snap up, hopeful, only to shrink a little when you realize it's not him. You recover quickly, not wanting to seem rude in a place you're not supposed to be in. "Hi, Kiara." You've only met her once or twice, but she's the kind of comforting soul you'd remember. She gives you a smile and then beelines for the electric kettle in the back. "Mrs. Robby, how are you?" You gulp at her question, realizing your ex-husband truly told no one about his divorce. "I've been better, but nothing I can't handle. You?" It's hard not to be honest when she's so easy to talk to, pulling out a chair for her to wait for her kettle. "One of those days. A mother just lost her child, so I'm making her a hot tea." Despite the dark news, the tight-lipped smile she sends you seems genuine. You ask about the ER overall and she tells you about the mass-casualty event that happened last month. You know a bit from Jake's mom, checking in on him through her instead of wanting to bother a grieving teenager who'd already been frustrated about the divorce.

As the kettle finishes, the door bangs open again. This time it is Robby, who looks flustered but sends you a smile anyways. It's like licking a spoon of brownie batter - secretive and a little wrong, but delicious anyways. You shouldn't have waited, should've left when you could, but deep down you need your questions answered. Kiara passes him with a cup in her hands, whispering something into his ear as she leaves. "I will." Robby replies, making you frown at the secrecy. Usually, if they're discussing a patient, they'll do it in front of you without names. Whatever that was had to be personal, and you're too emotionally raw not to ask.

"What was that?" You mutter, a little unkindly. Robby takes a seat, and you push his coffee cup towards him. His knee taps yours in thanks and stays there, its presence bewildering but not unwelcome. "She told me to use the communication skills we've been talking about." A laugh bursts out of you and you regret it instantly, your knee pressing into his. "Since when do you have communication skills?" You chortle. That's one of the things he might have at work, but never in a relationship. It used to be a joke between you, how you had to pry his true feelings out of him at the beginning of your relationship, but it turned to bitter satire in the end.

A heavy hand lands on your thigh, burning its way through the thin fabric of your leggings. "I know my communication has been...lacking," you hold back a snort, "but after last month, I've been talking to Kiara. Seems like I should've been following my own advice all this time." He admits, squeezing your thigh at the end of his sentence. Wide-eyed shock works its way through your veins. He actually addressed the major reason you said you wanted a divorce. The contentment you feel is like a nugget of gold, there for you to hoard and keep safe from judgement.

"Robby, that's wonderful. I'm proud of you, really." You exclaim, finding his hand on your leg and covering it with your own. The silicone of his ring digs into your fingers, and you let it. "I like it better when you call me Michael." He confesses. His chair squeaks as he turns towards you, shifting positions until his knees bracket yours on either side. His free hand raises to cup your face, familiar fingers petting your hair and your skin.

"Why are you wearing your ring, Michael?" You blurt, the need for his answer too great to hold back. Your ex-husband sighs, leaning forward until his face is all you see. On instinct, you reach out to take off his glasses and set them on the table. He always complained they hurt his nose, so he only wears them when reading. You brush the imprint left behind, smoothing down red marks and tracing the places you used to kiss every morning.

"You're still the love of my life, sweetheart." He confesses as you stiffen. He takes the lead, guiding you out of the chair and onto the worn couch on the far side of the room. It's easier to sink into his hold here, your face and your heart in the palms of his hands. Yells echo through the door, giving you an out to slide back and interrogate.

"That's how you treat the love of your life? You barely talked to me for months, Robby. You refused to go to therapy or marriage counseling and..." What you leave unsaid is too hurtful to bare. An old insecurity that was watered by months of loneliness, Robby picking up shifts to skip out on weekends together. "And what, baby? Don't hold back now." He practically demands, tugging your legs into his lap so you're under the full force of his stare. "And you started skipping weekends with me. Taking shifts when we were supposed to go on dates. Smelling different, like perfume instead of disinfectant." You whisper the last part, staring at your hands in your lap.

He laughs. An actual laugh.

You try to push off of him, but he tugs you until all the fight drains out. "I really fucked this up, haven't I?" He states. Robby almost never swears, so the use of one makes you pay attention. "Will you stop being an asshole and tell me what you mean?" You pout, upset that your emotions are getting brushed off. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip that juts out, tucking it back until he touches your teeth. "Detergent, baby, I swear. They found some awful cheap laundry detergent for our scrubs. I had some bad luck for weeks, fluids on me every day." He reasons, but you refuse to believe it. He knows you too well, of course. Robby tilts your chin until your eyes catch on a box of Rose Detergent for Hospitals, Clinics, and More near the trash can.

"This is what I mean, Michael! This kind of shit was in my head for months but I couldn't talk to you." He sobers instantly, that constant forlorn expression of his making itself known on his face. Robby interlaces your hands, laying his in your lap. Against your will, it grounds you. "The administration had wanted me to do a post-COVID remembrance for all the workers we lost and I just couldn't. Couldn't look at you without being reminded that I lived when so many better people died. I felt like I didn't deserve our happiness, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry." Only when he brushes your face do you realize it's wet. This is what you wanted for months, to hear the thoughts in his head instead of his sarcastic quips or his no-nonsense tone. This was your husband.

He held you to his chest, letting you calm down to the sound of his heartbeat. There's a compulsion under your skin, wanting to bind you two together until you don't know where you end and he begins. Ambulance sirens and pattering footsteps and shouts of pain all fade away when you work your hands through his scruffy beard, admiring the glints of silver that show here and there. "You might be a doctor, but you're an idiot." He nods, letting you curl further into him. "I don't regret divorcing you, because I am not doing your emotional labor for you." Another nod, this one shorter and more serious. "But I'm willing to try again, if you want to. The right way, where we go to counseling and actually talk." Finally, a grin. It changes his entire face, muscle and sinew rearranging into the man you once knew.

He doesn't have to answer. His kiss does it for him.

It's soft and tentative, barely there. A surge of anger sinks through you at how utterly bull-headed he's been. You push into him until his back hits the sofa, climbing him until your pelvises meet in a kiss. You pour months of resentment into your kiss and he meets you halfway, muscles under you tensing as you clash. "You asked to get lawyers." You bite his jaw as you say it, a fact you've been stewing over. "Wanted to make sure you got my money." He squeezes your ass, pulling you into him until you roll your hips over his cock, barely contained by his scrubs. This isn't the place for your first recoupling, but with how the couch is out of the way of the window over the door, and that no one seems to be looking for him, it'll do for now.

"Such a stubborn old man." You gripe, then gasp as he nips your neck. Robby lays kisses to your jaw, trailing down to your neck and sucking hard like a teenager. Broad hands urge your hips to grind, fucking yourself in his lap as you chase satisfaction. It's been so long since you've had an orgasm, every attempt reminding you of Robby. "Pretty sure you used to call me something else, baby." He mutters, one hand leaving your waist to sneak under your sweater. He finds your nipples hardened and achy, pulling one out of your bra cup and rolling it between his fingers. "I only call my husband that." You whine as your clit hits just the right angle of his clothed cock, bucking faster in his lap.

"Everyone around here knows you as my wife." He shoots back, pinching your nipple to emphasize his point. You find the crook of his neck and lay your forehead there, panting as your thighs burn with their ministrations. His hand on your waist flattens, fingers inching closer to your front but not where you need them. It's clear he's waiting for something, his thumb tracing the outline of your panties as he stays there. The longing to give in is too great.

"Please, Daddy. I need to come." You moan, not letting shame make its way into your head. You can feel him grin against you as his thumb finds your clothed clit, rubbing small circles as you keep bucking. It's what you needed, release creeping over you until you collapse in his arms. He moves his hips a few times into you until you complain of overstimulation.

"Think I just came in my pants." He mutters as you pull back. Giggles erupt from you, turning into snorts as you take in the pained expression on his face. Dr. Michael Robinavitch, coming in his pants like a teenager as his wife straddles him.

"Good thing they have scrubs. And a new rose detergent, I heard." You sass, squealing as he pinches your nipple, still cupped in his hand. He rights your clothing as you calm down, tucking your bra back in place and untwisting your leggings. "You're lucky I love you." He pecks your forehead before resting his own against it. You close your eyes in satisfaction, relieved to have filled this year-old hole in your heart. "I love you too, Michael." Your breaths mingle for a few moments, peace in the middle of the most unpeaceful place in Pittsburg.

Someone bangs on the door. Dana smirks at both of you like she predicted this was coming. "Two GSW's on the way, five minutes." You both sigh at getting caught, yet again. At least it was Dana. "Just enough time to get new scrubs." You cheer. He laughs, moving you both to a standing position before pecking your forehead again. "Put your address in my phone." He orders, fishing out his phone from where it fell into the couch cushions. "So forward, Doctor." You laugh as you type into his familiar phone. "I'll be over with takeout around 7:30, Mrs. Robinavitch." You grin.

"With your luck, it'll be 8 o'clock."

"Will you still wait?"

"Always."

this got away from me but wow it was necessary

#the pitt #michael robinavitch #dr robby #michael robinavitch x female reader #michael robinavitch x reader #female reader #the pitt spoilers #the pitt x reader #dr robby x reader #tornadothoughts #the pitt episode 14

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h0efor2ho · 5 months ago

Text

Mingi X Reader

WC : 1.5K

TW : Mingi is a whiny princess, Begging, Unprotected sex ( wrap it up ) P In V, Vulgar language, Oral ( slightly for .2 secs )

Part of the : Who's a Dom, Sub or Switch head cannon

Your eyes open a crack, revealing the pale light streaming into the window across from you. Glancing at your clock you see the ungodly hour in bright neon numbers, telling you it wasn't your alarm that woke you. A moment later your silent question is answered when you feel the hard length that is your boyfriends pushing up against your ass. "Really? its 5am"

"Oh you're awake" he breaths out into your neck. "I am now" you whine back as he hugs you tightly, pulling you up against him and his hard body. "Since your already up" he says, his hips pushing forward into you "can you ride my cock baby please I woke up so hard" He pushes into your backside again as to get his point across. "Mingi, you wake up hard almost every morning" you retort back as you roll over to face him. His big chocolate eyes gazing down at you, lips pushed into a pout as he pleads. "please baby, your the reason why I do to begin with"

"Mingiiiiii its so early" you whine as you lay back to look up at the ceiling. You feel the covered shift, being pulled low. "But babe, look how hard you have me" he says mater of factly. When you look over what you didn't expect to see was your boy friend with his sleep plans pulled down around his thighs and his hand wrapped around the base of his impressive length. "Pretty please babe, you know you want to. You know how much you love when I shove my cock in you" you cant help the audible gulp that happens when you swallow because he is not wrong.

This happens almost every morning. He wakes up hard, you tell him not now, and then he begs and you don't know what it is about this giant 6ft tall man begging and whining like a little baby that gets you going but it does and you give in every time. Just like you are right now as your hand is replacing his, barley able to circle his cock, slowly starting to slide up his shaft. "Is this what you want Min' ?" you ask as you get up onto your knees, looming over him. Leaning down placing a gentle kiss to his lips as he shakes his head yes. "You want me to touch you" you ask, your lips ghosting over his lips. "Please" he whispers, pushing his hips up into your touch. "Ahh" you slow your hand "You know the rules baby"

Climbing on him, you straddle his thighs and slot your core up against his hard shaft. You're, well his t-shirt you were sleeping in, riding up exposing your wet center to him. "Are you going to be a good boy for me Min?" you ask as your hand starts up again, slowly jerking him off. "Yes, I'll be good, just please sit on my cock already. Need it please baby" You grind yourself down against his thigh as you tighten your grip on him, the little gasp that leaves his lips brings a smile to yours. "Please baby, please just need you to sit on me. Need to feel you gripping me"

You watch as the bead of pre forms on the tip of his pretty cock. You lock eyes with him as you slid back and lower yourself. Ever so slowly you sticking your tongue out and swipe it over the tip, licking away the warm liquid. The sound that comes from deep in Mingis chest goes right to your core. "Please" he pants out "Please need you" "You beg so pretty for me baby" you say as you kiss your way back up his body. Slowly you lift your hips and position yourself over his leaking tip. With agonizingly slow movements you lower yourself, feeling the tip push past your entrance and past the first ring of muscles.

His hands fly to your hips, gripping them tightly trying to control himself. Your hands are planted firmly on his chest, your thighs screaming as they hold you're body up, slowly lowering you into his hard shaft "Fuckkk baby" he whines out when he is half way inside you. "Feel so good Min" you breathe out as you sink down "Always feel so good in me" You have to give both of you a moment when you finally reach his base. No matter how many times you take him it is always a tight fit. His hands unclench before gripping your hips again hard. You'll have more bruises for sure. "Feel so good around me" he breaths out making you smile.

Slowly you start to rock your hips. Forward then back, forward then back. Leaning on his chest, helping you with your leverage as you start to slowly slide your stretched out opening up and down his cock. You're so wet, you slide so easily. "Yes baby, that's it ride me" he whispers as his hands help you pick up motion. It's not long before you're using your thighs to fully lift yourself up till you slide to the tip of his cock before you slam back down again.

Mingi bunches up your shift, helping you life it over your head. His eyes fixated on your chest as your breasts bounce up and down with each motion. One hand coming up to pinch and pull your nipple. You let out a gasp at the sensation, your cunt squeezing his cock on the downward slide. "Fuck yes" he moans "Your always so sensitive, love feeling you squeeze me so tight. More please" he begs as his other hand reaches down to where the two of you join. His thumb sliding along your folds as you slide up on his shaft before quickly finding your clit.

At this point his hips are meeting you thrust for thrust. You know it won't be long before he blows inside of you. His thumb rubbing tight circles on your bundle of nerves as his other hand moves to your other nipple showing it the same attention he did the other. "God please I'm close baby. Cum on my cock. Please want to feel you grip me so tight" His filthy word spur you on as you continue to slam yourself down. "fuck, fuck, fuck" he chants with each swipe of his finger on your clit. "Please more, I need more. You feel so good"

The room filled with your moans, his begs and the wet sound of your bodies clashing together. "Fuck Min' gonna cum" you moan out as you feel the heat in your lower stomach. That tell tale band fighting with each swipe of his skilled fingers. "Yes please cum baby, cum on my cock" His hips full on thrusting into you at this point. With a few more pressured swipes of his finger you slam down on his cock. The heat in your stock erupting as your tight walls grip him in a vice grip.

"FUCKKKK" you cry out as your orgasm washes over you. Mingis hands now gripping your hips as his own still pushing up into you, sending shuttering sock waves through you as you come down. "Yes, Yes baby thank you, fuck" he groans. His pumps becoming more erratic as he reaches the edge. "Please can I cum" he asks "Please, please, please" he whines out as he continues to jack hammer his cock up into your spent hole. "Fuck yes Min' be good and cum in me" you breathe out. That's all its takes for him to vault himself over the edge.

A strangled cry leaves him throat as his pushes up and then his whole body locks. His abs flexed, arms gripping you tight as you feel his cock pulsing inside of you as he fills you with rope after rope of his hot sticky cum. After a few moments his body relaxes. His hands drifting from your hips up over your back and pulling you down to his spend body. Kissing the top of your head as he holds you against his heaving chest. "Thank you, thank you baby" he coos into the top of your head.

You slowly lift your hips, wincing at the pain as you slide off his cock before settling back next to him. You can feel your release's coating the inside of your thighs already. You shift onto your back before looking over at Mingi. He's looking back at you with those big brown eyes you love to much. "Was it good" he asks "Was I good for you" A small smile plays on your lips as you open your arms.

"Always good for me Min'" you say as your boyfriend clings to your body, wrapping his arms around you, his head resting on your chest, using your boobs as pillows. You hear him let out a content sigh as your hand treads in his hair. "Let's go back to sleep" he yawns out "After all it is so early in the morning" You cant help but laugh as his arms tighten on you before closing your eyes. If only people could see that your "big scary" boyfriend was in fact the worlds biggest pillow princess.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

#ateez #ateez hard thoughts #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez smut #mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi scenarios #song mingi #song mingi smut #ateez hard hours #mingi hard thoughts #mingi hard hours #mingi #mingi begs #mingi is a pillow princess

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chigirizzz · 1 year ago

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it was 5am when geto suguru woke up. the moon could still be seen through the window, its glow kissing the dark of the night, leaving a trail of dim light behind. it was peaceful and quiet.

he rubbed his tired eyes. something was wrong.

he turned around to face you, only to realize you weren’t in bed. the sheets on your side of the bed all messed up, your plush almost falling out of the bed, and your pillow was cold. suguru knew where you were: probably in the living room wasting time watching tv since you couldn’t fall asleep again. laying his head on your pillow, he let his hand feel the cold and soft fabric touching his fingers. your smell was there, intoxicating him with love hormones.

that was your routine now. go to sleep, wake up a few times during the night, and give up trying to fall asleep once more. suguru felt bad for you—he had to watch you get sleepy in the afternoon, resulting in you ruining your sleep schedule even more. he wanted you to be in his arms the entire night.

a sigh left his lips as he got out of the bed to see you, dragging his feet.

“again?” the male asked with a tired smile. worry and love could be read in his eyes.

“woke up three times tonight.” you didn’t face him, you were too tired to move yet you couldn’t sleep anymore; you refuse to sleep anyway. “i just want to sleep for the entire night.”

“i’ll make you some tea.”

“it’s fine.” your words were interrupted by a yawn. “go back to bed.”

the male sat next to you on the sofa. his arms invited you into his embrace, to which you accepted. he hugged you like he did before falling asleep, with you protected in his arms.

suguru wasn’t a fan of love or happy couples. yet, he found himself admiring you during dates. he found himself giving you a massage on your scalp every time you had a bad day. he found himself having his breath taken just by the sight of you. his name on your lips was a melody that could be heard by him and only him.

“feel sleepy yet?”

“i am sleepy. i’m tired.” you rubbed your eyes. “i just can’t fall asleep. i’ll wake up again anyway. so what’s the point?”

“the point, my dear.” suguru rubbed your back gently. his plan was trying to make you fall asleep so he could take you to your shared bedroom. “is that you’re losing hours of rest,” he said, his voice slowly getting lower. “and we don’t want that. right, sweetheart?”

another yawn. “no. but i’ll wake up again.”

“and i’ll make sure to help you fall asleep again. you’ll sleep entire nights in no time.” he smiled as you looked at him. your poor body was really begging for some proper rest. “i’ll make you some warm tea now, ok?” you nodded at his whisper.

“suguru. i love you.”

his smile widened, happy to hear your words. “i love you too."

tags: @rewh0re

#✧ — archive #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #geto suguru fluff #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader fluff #geto drabble

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deezee112 · 4 months ago

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The worst ending 22 : A Name That Shouldn’t Have Been Given

The worst ending 21 | The worst ending 23

Yandere!Sebek Zigvolt x GN!Reader

A/N : In my country right now there is an exam going on and I swear everyone is suffering from it terribly right now (including me).

It's nothing, but the teacher gave me a different test than what he said he would give. I'm going crazy, it's so difficult!!!

P.S. Sebek's ending is a little similar to Lilia's because I can't figure it out And he was the first person I decided to let speak in the beginning.

Warning : emotional manipulation , possessiveness , and an unexpected tragic ending. , Be careful not to rupture your eardrums while reading.

Tags :

@iris-arcadia @yuu-twisted

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

The child sat stiffly in front of you, eyes sharp, unmoving. He didn’t speak. He didn’t nod or shake his head. He only watched, like a soldier awaiting orders, like he was measuring you.

You sighed, kneeling down to his level. " Do you understand me? "

No response. His green eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he remained still.

You exhaled. " I can't keep calling you 'hey, Little boy' forever. You need a name. "

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Instead, he tilted his head just barely.

" Sebek. " you decided after a moment.

A strange expression crossed his face. Not joy, not confusion something deeper. His lips pressed together, and for the first time, he moved. He raised a hand to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. Then, slowly, he looked up at you.

" ...Sebek? "

His voice was so quiet, so unsure, that it almost didn’t sound like his own.

You smiled. " Yeah. Your name is Sebek. "

For a moment, there was silence. Then, his mouth stretched into the tiniest, stiffest smile. It was awkward, like he didn’t quite know how to move his face that way, but the effort was there.

From that day on, everything changed.

Sebek learned fast. Too fast. Within a year, he spoke fluently though he still carried himself like a soldier, standing straight, always ready to act. He was disciplined, sharp, and fiercely loyal.

And unbearably loud.

" WAKE UP ALREADY!!! "

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Sebek’s booming voice filled the room. Heart pounding, you shot up from your bed, hair a mess, vision still blurry.

" Shit—I mean, what—Sebek, it's only 5AM! "

" WAKING UP EARLY IS GOOD FOR THE BODY! " Sebek declared proudly, standing at the foot of your bed with his arms crossed.

You groaned, rubbing your face. " Sebek, normal people sleep at this hour. "

" WE ARE NOT NORMAL PEOPLE! "

You glared at him, groggy. " ...Sebek, I swear, if you don’t lower your volume, I’m going to throw this book at you. "

Sebek who acts like a little soldier, sensed the danger in your tone. In the split second it took for you to reach for the book on your nightstand, he was already gone bolting out of the room like his life depended on it.

You stared at the open door, exhausted.

" I hate mornings... " you muttered, flopping back onto the pillow.

Sebek was...overprotective.

At first, it was endearing how he would stand between you and strangers, how he’d scold people for speaking too informally to you. But over time, his protectiveness grew suffocating.

" THAT PERSON WAS STARING AT YOU FOR TOO LONG! " Sebek barked one day after you walked past a shopkeeper.

You sighed, adjusting the bag in your arms. " Sebek, he was just giving me my change—

" HE LOOKED SUSPICIOUS! "

" He’s Sixty years old, Sebek... "

" EVEN MORE REASON TO BE WARY! ELDERLY PEOPLE HAVE YEARS OF EXPERIENCE! "

You stared at him, unamused. " Sebek, if you start interrogating old men, I’m making you sleep outside. "

" …that’s unfair… "

Despite his nagging, there was something endearing about how much he cared. He had no idea how to express emotions properly his affection was loud, overbearing, sometimes terrifying but at its core, it was genuine.

" You should stop worrying so much. " you told him one evening.

Sebek furrowed his brows, clearly displeased. " i don’t like it when you say that… "

You raised an eyebrow. " What? "

He looked away. " YOU’RE NOT AS STRONG AS YOU THINK YOU ARE! "

Your eyes softened. " Sebek… "

" I’LL PROTECT YOU, NO MATTER WHAT! " His voice was as fierce as ever, but his hands, curled into fists, were trembling.

You smiled. " I know you will. "

Sebek stared at you for a long moment before muttering something so quietly, you barely caught it.

" ...so don’t leave me behind. "

It started subtly. Your world growing smaller. People keeping their distance.

Whenever you tried to leave the house, Sebek was there. Not in an obvious way he never outright told you no but the obstacles kept piling up. A missing coat. Broken shoes. Sudden, convenient rainstorms.

You started feeling trapped.

" Sebek. " you said one evening. " Did you…tell my friends not to come over anymore? "

Sebek, sitting on the couch with arms crossed, barely glanced at you. " THEY WERE NOT WORTHY OF YOUR TIME. "

Your stomach twisted. " Sebek, you can't just decide that for me— "

" I CAN AND I WILL! " His voice cracked with emotion, his normally confident stance wavering. " THEY DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU! THEY DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU! "

" And you do...? " you whispered.

Sebek’s eyes widened. His hands curled into fists.

" ...O—of course i do! "

His voice was quieter now, uncertain.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. " Sebek, I care about you, but I can’t— "

" DON’T SAY IT. "

You froze.

Sebek was trembling, his face twisted into something desperate. " DON’T SAY YOU WANT TO LEAVE ME. "

Your breath hitched.

" ...Sebek. "

He took a shaky step forward. " PLEASE. "

One night, you tried to run.

You waited until Sebek was asleep something that was nearly impossible, given his habits and slipped out of the house. The cold air stung your skin, but you pushed forward, your heart pounding in your chest.

You didn’t make it far.

" YOU’RE LEAVING!? "

You skidded to a stop.

Sebek stood at the gate, panting. His hair was messier than usual, his expression wild with something you’d never seen before.

" SEBEK— "

" WHY!? " His voice wavered, his hands shaking. " WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME! "

Your throat tightened. " Sebek, I— "

" YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T! " His breathing was ragged, his green eyes gleaming in the moonlight. " YOU SAID YOU’D STAY WITH ME! "

" Sebek— "

He stepped forward. You stepped back.

A mistake.

The ground beneath your foot crumbled. You didn’t even have time to scream.

For a moment, all you heard was wind rushing past your ears, your body weightless as you tumbled down the rocky slope.

Then—

Pain.

Darkness.

A faint, distant voice calling your name.

Sebek found you. He always found you.

He cradled you in his arms, his entire body shaking. His voice, for once, was a whisper.

" ...y/n...? "

Your eyelids fluttered, but your body was broken, unable to move.

Sebek choked on a breath. " PLEASE...DON’T CLOSE YOUR EYES. "

Your lips barely moved. " ...Sebek… "

" YOU CAN’T— " His voice cracked, his grip tightening. " YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS! "

You wanted to comfort him. Tell him it was okay. But your strength was fading.

Sebek’s tears fell onto your skin. " DON’T GO! "

Your vision blurred.

The last thing you saw was Sebek’s desperate, broken expression.

The last thing you felt was his grip, unrelenting, as if he could hold you together by force alone.

And the last thing you heard—

" You promise.... "

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere sebek zigvolt #yandere sebek x reader #au doll #I want to eat a croissant.

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osxmui · 5 months ago

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‘ life can be cruel , if you’re not a dreamer . ’

summary : you start your first day at the cafe, and learn of a certain bandaged barista, unknowingly kidnap his cat, but it was somewhat worth it when he and another barista come over to the cafe the next day searching for his ‘beloved’ cat and thinks that one of your friends stole it as revenge.

AUTHORS NOTE : hai !! first chapter is done, and i had so much fun writing this. unfortunately, i did struggle at some parts, like the rent thing and had no idea what to do for the plot😭 so, let’s all just act like its a good excuse and its just for the plot !! and characters might be ooc, and unfortunately for everyone, i highkey dgaf and this is for fun so if u come in my ask box to say “omg this is so ooc!!” YES I KNOW GET OUT OF MY ASKS I KNOW anyway if u do wanna be tagged in future updates, just lmk i will gladly tag you :3

GENERAL WARNINGS : reader is afab / fem, she/her pronouns will be used when needed. cussing (obviously), sometimes i will specify outfits but you can just imagine your outfit any other time lol , college stuff, substance abuse mention in other chapters, self harm mentions at times (dazai), dazais siblings r elise and yumeno, and oda, mori his dad.. the slowest slow burn of all of the slow burns, rare sex jokes because i can not resist, and just typical dazai behavior .. also, it has been awhile since i have written like this, so i might be bad at first so. um. ignore that.. + some time skips so we can get to the good part :) tried to speed this chapter up so we can get to the better part of the fic ! anyway, have fun reading!

you had set a routine for yourself once you left the comfort of your home for college; sleep, wake up at 5am to get ready, go to class at 6:30am, study after class, go to more classes, go back to your shared apartment around 4:30pm, relax a bit until 10:45, sleep, and repeat. you were not planning on changing that at all, until your landlord decided to up your rent, and you were forced to work with your friend, chuuya, who was working at a local cafe. originally, he had been paying the rent, and you paid the bills with money your parents gave to you as a little startup, and you could not pay rent with the money, and did bills until now.

you had felt bad for him once the rent raised, especially since the rent was now almost 1,950?? you possibly couldn’t let him pay by himself! so, you got a job at the cafe he worked at with your friend group.

and, you seriously regretted that after seeing how chaotic it was..

⌢ time : 4:30 pm . ⌣

you and chuuya were walking to the cafe after class. the heels of both of your shoes clicked against the pavement of the sidewalk, the sound of your voices quietly echoed through the air of the already loudness of the campus, other students chatting away and the sound of the occasional laugh registered in your mind.

“you’ll be fine, the cafe is a really nice place. you’ll do great, i’m sure.” chuuyas voice suddenly came through, breaking the momentarily silence you two shared for a bit.

you never really worked in a cafe. a fast food place? sure. but a cafe was new, but you knew everything since your mother owned a cafe, and you sometimes came over and watched her work. but this was new, you are ACTUALLY working at one, and doing all the things you saw your mother do.

“i know i’ll do fine, it’s just new, y’know?” you reply to him, but you were grateful for his assurances either way. a small hum left him after you spoke, and you could feel him offer you a small look. “just don’t stress about it, yeah? if you need anything, i can help you.”

after alot of talking, you two had started walking out of campus grounds and walked down the sidewalk towards the cafe, and you could see the little building in the distance after a few minutes of walking.

⌢ time : 5:39 pm . ⌣

luckily, there weren’t any customers since apparently, customers rarely came in at this time unless it was game day for the college, and then the cafe was packed since it did have a tv where they could watch the game.

but that wasn’t all that important, you were just glad that you didn’t need to deal with ‘bitchy’ customers. chuuyas words, not yours.

you were in the middle of putting on your apron as your friends spoke, their voices overlapping the faint sound of music playing from the speakers.

“god, i hate those people. they constantly try to one-up us with their deals and purposefully got a bigger tv for game day. you know, one of those days, i’ll break that tv in front of them..” chuuya grumbled, his narrowed eyes focused on the cafe that was actually across the road. if it was not obvious that he hated the cafe across the street, then the look in his eyes was definitely an obvious sign.

“oh, calm down. it’s not like they do it on purpose.” higuchi spoke, rolling her eyes at his complaint while she wrote on some of the paper cups, something their cafe made them do to show that it was a welcoming spot or whatever the manger said. “oh, they definitely do it on purpose. have you seen how smug they looked when they got that tv? what bitches.” tachihara spoke up, standing next to chuuya as they both glared at the cafe across the street.

“aren’t you all being dramatic? it surely can’t be that bad.” you eventually spoke after getting your apron on and went to help higuchi, who gave a grateful look and continued. “she’s right, it’s not that bad, you’re all being dramatic.” higuchi agreed.

chuuya and tachihara glared at you and higuchi in sync, the two boys clearly judging you both. “you two have no idea what those idiots are like. even in class, they’re so bitchy. i am unfortunately cursed and have a class with the freaky bandaged one.” chuuya sighed, looking back at the cafe across the street.

you sighed, shaking your head at your best friends words. “you say that like it’s a bad thing, he might be nicer than you think.” you reply, trying to be optimistic since chuuya did have the habit of being a little dramatic with his opinions of people. “chuuyas right, the bandaged one or whatever his name is, is weird. dude looks like a mummy of sorts.” tachihara had spoken up, also looking back at the cafe.

chuuya immediately scowled once he saw some of the workers from the cafe across the street walking up to their own cafe, a few of them in a group as they started opening up their cafe.

you looked up and watched, examining the small group of people who seemed to go at the same college. there was a blonde man, a woman with dark hair that had her hair in a messy bob of sorts, a younger guy who looked to be a first year with white hair, one with brown hair and glasses, and another guy with brown hair that had bandages around him.

“what are their names?” you whisper to higuchi, not wanting to interrupt chuuya and tachiharas glaring. “hm? oh, the blonde is kunikida, the woman is yosano, the one with white hair is atsushi, the one with brown hair and glasses is ranpo, and the bandaged one that chuuya hates is dazai.” the blonde woman whispered back, to which you nodded in response.

“they seem nice, why is that they’re hated?” you ask again. you were confused, the group seemed genuinely nice, so you had no idea why most of your friends seemed to hate the cafe. “oh, chuuya got into a fight with dazai a few weeks ago and their cafe and ours seemed to have a war of sorts ever since.” she had whispered back, shrugging as she continued to write on cups.

ah, you had heard about that. chuuya had come back in the evening one night, and said he got into a fight with some ‘idiot from class that looks like hes cosplaying a mummy.’ .. you didn’t know why you didn’t realize that until now, but it made sense since chuuya had an obvious grudge.

⌢ time : 8:27 pm . ⌣

you and chuuya were now walking home after work, it had been a nice day, the cafe wasn’t that busy, and it was a good first day. now, you were walking home.

but, you stumbled upon a pretty, somewhat fluffy black cat, who seemed to be freezing in the low temperatures of the night. you were immediately going to help it as chuuya followed.

you looked back at chuuya as you sat on the pavement of the sidewalk, then at the cat and quickly took your jacket off. “what are you doing?” chuuya quickly asked as you slowly approached the cat, smiling at how the cat was snuggling up to your hand. “i’m not letting a cat freeze up in the cold. i would feel horrible if i left this poor thing in the cold.” you reply to him, slowly getting the cat to come closer.

the cat was the sweetest thing ever, you could hear small purrs come from it as you gently pet it, but you quickly wrapped it in your jacket and slowly picked it up, smiling at how it easily allowed it. the cat was obviously accustomed to humans, and trusted them easily, so it was pretty easy to pick it up.

“come on, we’re going to the store first and buying it some food until we figure out what to do with it.” you suddenly announced, already walking in the direction of the local store. chuuya sighed, already knowing he couldn’t stop you when you were determined and simply followed. “you’re insane. what are we going to do with a cat we found on the street? we can’t keep it!” he spoke, crossing his arms as he walked next to you.

“well, we’re not keeping it forever, dumbass! just until we figure out what to do with it or some missing pet poster pops up.” you remark back, a small huffy sigh left you as you continued your walk, and eventually made it to the store.

the two of you walked into the store, both of you offering polite smiles to the workers who greeted you both. you and chuuya walked to the pet aisle, and went to the shelf of cat food as you held the purring cat in your arms.

“do we get it wet food or?” chuuya whispered to you, you shrugged and just decided to go with wet food and dry food. you were sure wet food was the answer, but you wanted to be safe and not buy something the cat wouldn’t eat. “get both, just in case, y’know?”

chuuya hummed in response, grabbing a small can of wet food and a small bag of dry food before you two walked to the shelf checkout area. you watched how he scanned the items and put them into a plastic bag, and then decided to spare him of trying to find his card and offered to pay (more like forced..). “grab my card from my bag, it’s in the second pocket.” you spoke to him, smiling at the sigh he gave and went to your crossbody bag.

he went through the pockets, looking for the card in the pocket you said it would be in, and after a few moments, he eventually found it and grabbed it, and went to pay. and after a few seconds, he returned the card and closed your bag, then went to grab the plastic bag with the cat food.

after a few minutes, you two were now walking home with the cat and the cat food. you ignored the cold air biting at your hands, and you were suddenly grateful that you were wearing a warm, long sleeved shirt since you definitely didn’t want to get sick from this. but the cat definitely seemed warm.. lucky.

“what are we going to do with the cat when we go to work?” you suddenly ask chuuya, remembering that you actually had to work tomorrow and you didn’t necessarily trust a cat you picked up from the street to be alone in your house. “we can give it to koyou? she’s not busy and can watch the cat while we work.” he suggested with a shrug, knowing that his older sister, koyou, could probably help.

you nodded in agreement, knowing koyou could be trusted rather than all of your other friends. “yeah, we can go to koyous house before class, and after work, we can pick up the cat.” you agree.

⌢ time : 6:15 am . ⌣

you and chuuya were currently walking down the hallway of a familiar apartment building, walking to a door that had the number ‘629’ , the same apartment that chuuyas older sister lived in. as you held the cat with one arm, your free hand went to the door, giving a few knocks.

after a few moments, you and chuuya could hear the door lock unlocking, and the door opened to show a woman with redish hair, and was still wearing her home clothes. “oh, hello. did you two need something?” she spoke up softly, giving a polite smile, and a curious look.

you both immediately smiled back at the woman before you. “hey, koyou. we’re wondering if you can watch this cat for the day, and we’ll pick it up after work?” you ask her, seeing how she immediately nodded in agreement and you handed the cat over. “sure, i can watch it for the day. just get to all of your classes, yes?”

you mentally sighed in relief, mostly because you weren’t really expecting her to be that nice, and she seemed to be in a good mood. “thank you, koyou.” chuuya spoke before you, giving his sister a grateful smile before she nodded and closed the door with the cat in her hold.

well, at least you got that out of the way..

⌢ time : 5:08 pm . ⌣

you and all of your friends were at work, you and chuuya had arrived first, then tachihara, then higuchi. all of your other friends were busy with night classes, so they worked the morning shift, while you and the others worked the late afternoon to night shift.

anyways. you and chuuya were in the back, simply talking while chuuya got a smoke break, but then, you two heard yelling from the front. you immediately went inside while chuuya shortly followed after taking a big hit of his cigarette before putting it out, and quickly followed after you.

the moment you walked in, you were witnessing the weirdest scene ever. dazai and yosano were at the counter, talking to tachihara.

“i already told you, i didn’t see your stupid cat nor did i take it!” tachihara yelled back at dazai, who was looking at tachihara as if he killed his whole family. “bullshit, i know one of you took it as revenge!” dazai replied quickly, clearly unhappy and was certain one of you took it.

you and chuuya walked up to the counter, and chuuya crossed his arms as he interrupted. “what’s wrong now, dazai? why the hell are you yelling at my coworkers?” chuuya spoke, glaring at dazai, who focused his attention to you and chuuya as yosano sighed quietly and just watched.

“i know one of you took my cat, there’s nobody else who would steal it but you and your idiotic friends.” he easily replied to chuuya. the brunette took out a paper and waved it in chuuyas face, showing a missing poster of a fluffy, black cat. the same black cat you saved from the cold so it didn’t freeze to death.

well, fuck. you didn’t really mean to steal this guys cat, and the cat didn’t have a collar, so you just sort of assumed it was a stray.

you and chuuya immediately shared a look, before chuuya gave a cocky smile, and before you could speak and admit you had the cat, chuuya cut in and looked back at dazai. “nah, didn’t see your stupid cat anywhere. but i did see another cafe down the road take in a cat that sort of looks like that inside.” chuuya lied through his teeth, shrugging as if it was nothing.

dazai narrowed his eyes, shoving the paper back in his pocket, keeping eye contact the whole time. “osamu, if they said they didn’t take the cat, then they didn’t. no need to be this protective over it.” yosano suddenly spoke, then dazai sighed and softened, realizing he was being dramatic, but he couldn’t help it. the cat was the only thing making him survive the hell that was college.

“fine, if you say that you don’t have it, then you don’t. but if i find out that you or any of your friends stole it and you’re lying to my face, i will—” he spoke, but you quickly cut him off, and decided to just go with chuuyas lie since you two were way too deep into this now. “is it really necessary to threaten? how about this; if we ever see the cat, then we can come find it and give it to you, personally.” you had cut in with a polite smile, noticing how he looked at you, his mood changing immediately as he saw an opportunity to be playful with someone.

dazai smiled, suddenly perking up and becoming all nice. “is that so? personally? how sweet.” he replied with a hint of playfulness. chuuya immediately looked at dazai with a narrowed gaze, wondering how the fuck dazais mood changed.

you, tachihara and chuuya were both confused on how dazais mood quickly changed, how it was like he changed in a blink of an eye. first, he was all stressed and frustrated, then, he was suddenly cheerful and playful? what the fuck?

“yes, personally. now, if you and your friend don’t mind, we actually want to work.” chuuya scoffed, rolling his eyes, and dazai looked back at chuuya, seemingly calmed down and shrugged. “fine, then. enjoy your 4 customers.” he said with a mocking grin, then turned around, grabbed yosano and dragged her out the cafe.

tachihara watched the two leave the cafe in disdain, before the bell atop the door rang, signaling the door being opened and closed. “god, what a fucking mood swing that was.. jesus, that guy needs to get checked out and put on some pills.” tachihara mumbled, before going back to setting the coffee machine up.

chuuya was happily smiling once dazai and yosano left, clearly glad that dazai was finally out the shop. that was something he was grateful for. “we are not giving him back that cat until the end of the month, i must drag out his misery.” chuuya whispered to you with a happy sounding sigh, finally finding something to hold over dazai.

you sighed quietly, realizing that you couldn’t do anything since you just lied to that guys face about his cat, and was now holding the thing hostage. “we are so fucked.” you mumbled quietly under your breath.

you had no idea how you will keep your mouth shut about it, but it was too late now to go back..

small authors note : sneaking in my hc of dazai having very, very sudden mood swings hehe.. Though, i do apologize for how rushed this chapter was! just trying to get to the good part quicker ^_^ + reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated <3

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i-yap · 1 year ago

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Hi there! LOVE your thoughts on Jason like truly i <3 clingy Jason!!!!! What do you think a relationship would be like between Jason and a corporate baddie? Like she's serious, career-driven, and almost viciously ambitious, but for him? a total softie!! Like they just melt for each other despite the fact that they both put up a tough exterior to others!!

Omg i love that , here are my headcanons -

Jason todd x corporate baddie!y/n

I think the time schedules would be a mess. She works 9-5 and he 'works' 9pm-5am. But since she is a really career driven woman, I can see her sort of completing her extra or personal work/ international calls etc from the time that jason is vigilanting and therefore cutting her shift from like 9-3 or something similar. Since she gets all her work done, no one can say a word and honestly no one would dare to either way. Relstionship is about compromise and I think jason will cut down his vigilante time to get home to his stressed worker bee.

Jason prolly cant sleep without her so while she is at her job, he is working out or doing his other stuff. They catch up on sleep after her shift . This means afternoon cuddles !!( Ofc I am firm believer that jason should with time leave crime fighting and become an English professor )

I also love how most of her coworkers thinks she is prolly dating a Submissive type of guy or like a really serious professional dude cause she is so scary and strict . But then Jason- 6 feet something, huge asf, leather jacket, tattoos(maybe) and motorcycle dude walks in bringing her lunchbox( that looks so tiny in his hand). Yea now they're even more scared.

And I think everyone from jason's side also assumed that he'd either get a super cute-sy girl that will "fix him" or another vigilante girl that'll " make him worse". But he walks in with this poised, smart hardworking no nonsense woman and everyone's like DAMN

Damian loves you probably. He doesn't get how todd wooed you, like he thinks todd is a doofus. For once you are a normal (non crime fighting) girl that his brother is dating who is this career driven and also treats his brother properly. He loves talking business with you ( there was this scene where he figures out who is stealing money by looking at the finances at wayne enterprises) . and for once someone doesn't take him for a kid and actually wants to listen to pointers that he has. Tim prolly also loves talking to you about business cause he is a CEO too same thing for bruce.

Power couple fr.

but once you too get home...yea no one recognizes you.

Jason loves the fact that you show your soft side only to him. He has never been someones first choice in anything and this makes him feel so much more loved and cherished. and vice versa applies to you

he loves taking care of you after your long ass workday, helping you just be vulnerable and drop the whole tough act and be human. you do the same for him once he comes back at night. Just taking care of each other the way you guys need.

And you can bet jason knows how to be your biggest supporter. big raise? promotion? or just a good presentation?? He is genuinely excited for you.

Will give you back rubs when you've been sitting on the desk the whole day

will cook you brunch/snacks for when you come back and you will cook him breakfast/dinner for when he does .

it will take some compromise and adjustments but its all worth it and no price at all for loveeee.

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serv0z · 8 months ago

Text

RAHHH a drawing of all the sillies currently occupying my brain right now. Funny thing is!! My last LN related drawing was posted almost exactly a year ago!! how funny! Close-ups and yapping under the cut

I'm running on 3 hrs of sleep bc i stayed up till 5am to make this and then i had a neurologist appt at 8 so!!! (i got officially diagnosed with adhd or add we win, i already forgot which one he said but i get my meds tmrw!!) I might take a nap after this im so exhausted. ANYWAYS.!!! i love. flowey and clover friendship no one start yelling at me abt how flowey didnt care!!! theyre best friends to me!!!! and it works out as im a clover kinnie nd floweys been my comfort character for years now. we win. I don't think monsters really had binders at first (dont use bandages btw guys, dont be like Starlo was!!11) I think the first time one fell into the trash dump or wtvr someone picked it up and then once figuring out its uses just!! boom!! business!! figuring out how to safely make more and!!! finding ways to accommodate certain monsters with different body types!! esp with the spikes and such. Ceroba def helped Starlo out with his bandages often before they were able to get him a binder. the one where clovers drawing is !! an idea of revived!clover or clover staying in the underground in hiding. Martlet got him that shirt :)) and obv the bell earring is from Ceroba. sorry to all my cotl followers i STILL have no colored the 5 body refs of both narinder and lambert. I picked the colors here on a whim so uhmmm it's not official!!! not yet anyways!! i do like what i used for Narinders fur tho, so that might stay idk yet i hte coloring BNJKNKSD i colored this whole thing on a wild impulse.. thus staying up all night. I think clover would really enjoy waterfall if they were ever able to visit it after or during the whole soul thing. It's peaceful and beautiful and also one of my fav areas in base game sooo :) i missed my LN kids. I reread Raccoons on ao3 and remembered how much i loved them and their silly lil dynamic. im a #1 six defender btw i WILL throw hands if u say some wrong shit abt her. mono, less so bc i think a lot of people have a good grasp on his character now but six is ALWAYS villainized. Has been for years nd it ticks me off bc?? she was right for her actions kinda?? not really?? ofc both characters made bad choices that lead to it but dont disregard her feelings either? idk its a whole thing i cant get into on THIS post. a lot of the doodles are just random moments like Six in the Maw with their bigass keys and locks, maybe its one of the ones to the kitchen and thats why she's rushing :D? Mono isnt really. he wasnt meant to be in the end game room but i wanted funky lighting so do with that as u will. Silly stuff with RK and Six, RCG I DID NOT FORGET ABOUT U HUN <333 I JUST DONT HAVE A DESIGN FOR YOU YET!!! same for Low and Alone </3 RK with the nomes my beloved <333 nd ofc the last dance based on the animation on youtube!!! do not tag any of the ln kids as ship!!! and do not tag clover and flowey as a ship either!! only two im fine with in this drawing is staroba or narilamb oki goodnight

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emeritusemeritus · 8 months ago

Note

if you’re taking requests can you do fred x artist!reader maybe? it’s okay if not though! (:

Hi love! Let me start by saying I’m sorry that this completely took on a life of its own. I started writing and I couldn’t stop, too engrossed in the story. I wasn’t sure what kind of art you wanted to include so I made the reader a painter/ designer and an all round creative. I’ve sobbed writing this and I’ve even had to split it into two parts because I’ve fallen down a hole and written over 8 thousand words, not joking.

I hope you enjoy! I shall now go and rest 😂🖤

Part 2 will be posted HERE once it is uploaded.

Warnings: ANGST. Sadness, breakups, illusions to cheating, breakup references. Happy ending I promise! Talks of marriage, proposals, Hagrid and his creatures, Fang being the goodest boy. Lots of tears and sadness but it gets better! Not beta read nor spellchecked, apologies for any mistakes. Timeline is a little wonky (picturing it OOTP just before the twins departure but there’s no war/no Umbridge)

Word count: 4.9k [Part 1&2= 8.2k] 😬

The Artist and the Entrepreneur part 1

You walked into your dorm in an exhausted slump, trying desperately not to sigh too loudly of our sheer exhaustion in order to not wake your dorm mates. It was nearly 11:30pm by the time you had made it back to the dorms, having to wake and then calm down the fat lady who was not willing to listen to your explanation of why you were out so late. You needed to bathe and get to sleep, ready for classes the next morning but you could barely function, trying desperately to summon the energy to undress and make your way to the bathrooms. It was a necessary evil but it had to be done and so you dragged your near-lifeless body to the bathroom and began running a bath, which thankfully filled up quickly with almost perfect temperature water. You grimaced as you peeled the uniform away from your body, wincing at a particularly nasty wound on your right forearm which you would attempt to heal after you'd bathed. Your hands were covered in paint, mud and whatever else had made their way under your nails, arms littered with paint splatters and other vague marks.

Sinking down into the water, you forced yourself to stay awake feeling suddenly soothed by the warm water, both physically and mentally. It had been a hard couple of weeks, stretched beyond your means as your timetable suddenly doubled. You were tired, exhausted and still there was another week to go of this madness, but it would all worth it on the end.

You dried quickly, assisting yourself with a flick of your wand and dressed into your pyjamas, hardly managing to scoop up your dirty uniform on your way back to bed.

5am came much quicker than you'd have liked. It was almost as if you'd closed your eyes and opened them again only a minute later. You crawled out of bed trying again to stay silent and reached for the clean set of uniform and robes on the chair beside your bed, kicking the lump of dirty uniform under your bed to deal with later. You slipped into the bathrooms to dress so that you wouldn't wake anyone and slipped down to the common room, pray in that you didn't see anyone on the way. You cast a glance at the boys dormitory staircase and felt a stab of sorrow thinking of Fred and how you'd barely seen him in the past two weeks. You were often gone before breakfast and not back until well past curfew, not that either of the twins ever abided by the rules.

"Oh shush," you said to the fat lady who had begun her usual spiel of sounding the alarm due to you being out of bed out of hours, not listening nor remembering the speech you'd given everyday for the past two weeks as you attempted to sneak out. You couldn't afford to be discovered by the prefects nor any teachers roaming the corridors, as above board as your mission was- you couldn't risk Fred finding out what you were doing.

Sunlight shone through the windows as you made your way around the castle, holding back a shiver at the coldness of the castle in the late March morning, your robes doing very little to shield you from the chill. You crept out of the castle and marvelled at the beautiful first rays of daylight peaking through the trees of the forbidden forest. You looked ahead and saw that smoke was billowing from the chimney of Hagrid's hut, the only sign of life against the otherwise serene backdrop of the forbidden forest. You made your way slowly, enjoying the peaceful walk down to the hut, hoping that Hagrid had put the kettle on in anticipation of your arrival.

"Morning y/n!" Hagrid says with a wide smile, bustling around in the small hut, much too awake for this time in the morning. Fang in stark contrast lay slumped in his bed and half asleep, continuously disturbed by Hagrid's banging. A steaming cup of tea lay waiting for you on the table and you thank him graciously, taking a soothing sip of the hot liquid. You look at the clock on the wall beside the window as see that it's nearly half 5 now, the sun rising in the sky and greeting an almost ethereal light across the magnificent castle, a sight that still amazed you even seven years later.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Hagrid asks, noticing you gazing up at the castle and you share a smile for a moment, the tiredness having faded now thanks to the alarmingly strong cup of tea that you'd now become accustomed to.

"Ready to get to work now?" He asks, watching you drain the last of the tea from the large mug. You try to hide your disappointment from being dragged out once again to the edge of the forest, knowing that you'd signed up for this. You nod with a smile, navigating around the large table as you move towards to door behind Hagrid. You shoot a look towards Fang, wanting to give him a parting stroke but you notice quickly that he's fallen back to sleep and so you leave him alone to snooze, wishing that you could too.

It was nearly half 8 when you walked into the great hall, taking a brief detour to the bathrooms as you washed your hands and to hide any evidence of your morning. Your early start was already catching up to you and you hid a yawn behind the sleeve of your robe as you walked through the doors of the great hall. You checked your robe one last time for any signs of evidence but thankfully you were clear, noticing only a moment later when you took you'll place at the table that there was a great dollop of pint upon your shoe.

"Here she is," George says from across the table, nodding his head towards you as you climbed onto the bench beside Ron in the gap between him and Neville.

"Switch with Y/n Ronald," Fred says from beside him without a hint of a please. Knowing he won't get any manners out of his older brother, Ron complies and shifts up to allow you to sit beside your boyfriend.

"Thanks Ron," you say, trying to hold off the yawn that was threatening to break free at any moment.

"Morning beautiful, you're late," Fred says, his hand slipping across your back as you pour yourself a large glass of pumpkin juice. He frowns at the coldness of your robes beneath his fingers but doesn't say anything. "You overlay again?"

"Yeah," you lie, feeling immediately guilty about the fact. "Snape's set us a load of work, took me ages to figure it out last night. Didn't get a lot of sleep." As if to prove your point, the yawn you'd been suppressing finally escapes with so much force that it makes your eyes water.

You manage to force down some toast, staying quiet as the conversation continues around you. The first bell rings and you barely hold back a sigh, detesting the fact that you'd have to get up again.

"I can walk you to potions?" Fred says, holding his hand out to help you off the bench. You're quick to conceal the paint on your shoe and if he notices, he doesn't say anything.

"And have you late for charms again?" You counter, raising an eyebrow at your boyfriend who just shrugs completely unfazed.

"Haven't seen you much lately, thought you'd been avoiding me."

His words feel like a stab directly to your heart, knowing that you were guilty of avoiding him, though it wasn't in a negative way. Your craved the time with him, of mischief in the late hours and spontaneous moments in hidden corridors and empty classrooms.

"I promise I'm not," you say with a smile, trying to vanquish his idea completely as you lean up to press a kiss to his full lips. His arms immediately grab your waist as he pulls you in for a deeper kiss that borders on inappropriate but you relent, unable to resist after not seeing him properly for so long.

"So, potions?" Fred smirks, pulling away. You chuckle, placing your hands on his chest.

"For me? Yes. For you? No, get to charms," you order playfully, leaning up to give him one last peck on the lips before turning away. "See you at lunch!"

You can hear his boyish chuckle as you walk away down the corridor in the opposite direction of him, praying that he would be entirely too focused on the swishing of your behind and that the paint on your shoe would go entirely unseen.

By lunch you were completely exhausted, too tired to even notice the suspicious side-eyes from the identical twins as they watched you poke around at your food and down a second cup of very strong tea, having outwardly complained that the first one was too weak. Uncharacteristically for them, they said nothing and continued to chatter amongst themselves, keeping the conversation open for you though you didn't give much imput.

"Fancy the black lake tonight, after hours?" Fred whispers in your ear, knowing even without looking that a smirk would be tugging at his lips. You inwardly grimaced, cursing your ridiculous secret plan as you wished more than anything that you could join him. You were running out of excuses now, finding it hard to keep track with what you'd already lied about.

"I can't tonight, got an essay for snape in the morning I've still not finished," you say with a guilty expression, almost wincing as the words too-effortlessly tumble out of your mouth. "Friday night I promise?"

He seems put out almost instantly, never one to be able to conceal his emotions well. He looks frustrated, confused and rejected within seconds of each other and gives a halfhearted nod at your counter offer of Friday instead.

The bell rings signalling the end of lunch and you hope for a kiss before parting but lose all hope when you feel his lips briefly brush your hairline and he runs off to catch up with George and Angelina.

You avoided the common room after classes, choosing instead to sneak down to Hagrid's a little early, thankful for Thursday evening Quidditch practice which meant that you wouldn't cross paths with Fred.

"Y/n, I'm nipping out tomorrow on dumbledores orders, think you could nip down and check in everything while I'm gone?" Hagrid says as you out dutifully complete your given task, hoping to get it done quickly so you could try and salvage a bit of time tonight for Fred. His questions throws you off for long enough that you feel a hot gust of fire breezing past your right ear, followed by a burning sensation in the same spot. He's quick to act and gets you out of harms way before any more damage is done whilst you remain slightly frozen in both fear and contemplation. You knew you couldn't say no, in debt to his generosity and so you simply nodded, already dreading the implications of your acceptance.

It's late once again when you arrive at the common room, only half an hour til curfew, and despite your attempts at hiding your tiredness and attempting to appear happy and neutral, you can't help but feel the guilt swirling in your gut when you see Fred and George pedalling their products to the younger students with wide smiles on their faces and still dressed in their quidditch uniforms. You sneak up to Fred once he's done with a sale and slip behind him, placing your hand on his shoulder to alert him to your presence.

Only, when he turns around his smile slowly fades upon realisation that it's you and your heart immediately begins to break, knowing that it was the other way round. He doesn't instantly reach out for you with his big grabby hands like usual nor does he attempt to kiss you. You try and salvage the situation, putting more effort in, trying to be as normal as possible but he seems to see right through the act.

"Wanna sneak out? I hear the black lake is beautiful this time of night." You say with a smirk, trying desperately to mask your tiredness and to hold it together. He doesn't jump at the chance as you hoped and instead casts a cursory glance to George before turning back to you.

"Can't tonight, got to restock the snack boxes with George," he says, briefly touching your hand before a third year calls his name, hand outstretched ready to buy one of his creations. Your stomach sinks, knowing that it's a lie and the irony of the situation only seems to hurt you more as you feel your eyes well up with fresh tears. You excuse yourself immediately, not even greeting your friends who you can tell are watching the tense exchange and you hope more than anything that no one follows you. You're completely depleted with exhaustion, running on hardly any sleep and completely overworked by your own doing. Suddenly the outcome didn't seem worth it and you regretted ever starting, finding your idea foolish.

You let your tears flow as you shower, passively washing away the fresh marks from the day off your arms, the clear gel and the colourful spatters draining away down the plug hole with your tears. You wince in pain when the water falls directly onto the freshly wounded skin behind your ear and your neck, execrating yourself for missing that spot despite Hagrid's warnings.

Too tired and upset to face going back down to the common room, you give up and reward yourself with an early night, though you feel anything but rewarded.

5am came around once more and more than ever you begrudgingly pulled yourself from the warm bed and slipped into the bathroom, the reminder of Fred's rejection playing on your mind from the second your eyes opened. Had you dreamt about it? Either way his reaction was firmly imprinted on your mind and you couldn't get away from how desperately painful it was to have him reject you like that. You slipped out of the common room on autopilot, closing the door with a little too much force already anticipating the fat lady's usual ranting and slumped off towards Hagrid's hut. The skies looked as sombre and sorrowful as you felt, covering the sky in a dull grey hue that seemed to dull the normally beautiful sunrise. You were quiet this morning, not rude or impolite but simply quiet as you worked alongside Hagrid, consumed by your foreboding thoughts knowing that you would still have to cancel Fred tonight, if he even cared anymore.

Once your morning jobs were complete, you decline any further invite to stay and decide instead to sneak back into the castle for breakfast, hoping you could join your friends and boyfriend like usual. Breakfast had only just begun when you walked into the great hall, having made your usual stop off at the girls bathrooms on the way and you're not surprised when the only person sat at the table is Hermione who's already got her head down in a book. She lifts her head up to greet you happily as you sit opposite her at the table, beginning to place her bookmark on the page she's on but you tell her not to, to enjoy the peace whilst she can. She shoots you a grateful smile and you sit enjoying your second cup of tea in peace, thankful you could make this happen today. You knew it was at the expense of your other jobs and you'd most certainly pay for it in the long run but having half of the morning to reset still felt good.

"Morning," Angelina says as a sits down at the table next to Hermione who this time only says a passive greeting, much too engrossed in her book. Angelina reached immediately for a glass of pumpkin juice before rubbing her eyes and yawning at the early hour.

"Not been sleeping well?" You ask with relative concern for your friend, watching her yawn for a second time within seconds. "Staying up late trying to find a loophole in quidditch rules again?" You joke with a smile, watching as she shoots you a mock glare even though it was most probably true, only to be interrupted by her third yawn.

"I wish! Still never finished reading that rule book," she snorts. "I know there's something there I've missed." She takes a sip of her pumpkin juice and you watch as she swallows down another yawn. "I was at the black lake with the twins last night, didn't get back til late."

It's amazing that you don't choke on your own pumpkin juice as the words glide out of her mouth, your stomach sinking like a stone at the implications. You knew Angelina and there was no malice nor hidden meaning behind her words but it still stings more than getting caught in the path of a Ukrainian Ironbelly. Fred had openly lied to you, had rejected you and had invited Angelina in your place. You're frozen in place by the revelation but Angelina doesn't notice, now heartily tucking into her breakfast, though you do notice hermione peeking over her book to look at you. Tears begin to prickle your eyes as the sinking feeling in your gut consumes you, your thoughts spiralling out of control. He didn't want you anymore, you'd pushed him too far to come back from, all with him in mind.

You barely noticed when Ron, Ginny and Harry appeared at the table but you noticed immediately when you heard two very familiar voices echoing as Fred and George walked into the great hall. You had to leave, you had to get out before then took their places. A part of you, wether it was self-punishment or morbid curiosity wanted to stay and see if Fred would chose to sit next to you, to see if he'd interact with you or be cold and distant but you couldn't do it, knowing that the latter would kill you. You stood up so quickly that you bumped your knee on the bottom of the table with a resounding thud that seemed to draw everyone's attention to you but you didn't stick around to shrivel under their curious gazes. There was no way you could avoid Fred now as he made his way to the table but you couldn't do anything about that. Placing your hand over your mouth, you feigned queasiness and ran out of the hall, straight past Fred and George.

Climbing up the spiralling staircase from potions, your stomach sank when you saw a familiar form resting against one of the pillars in the corridor, his shining red hair leaving no doubt as to who it was. You waited for your fellow classmates to disperse, signalling for Alicia to go ahead with the others, leaving you and Fred alone. You half hoped for the first time ever that you'd gotten the twins mixed up

And that it was actually George that was waiting for you but as you walked over with a faux smile on your face, there was no doubt in your mind that it was Fred.

"Hi," you said, sounding awkward even to your own ears. He gives you a look, apparently having noticed your unusually formal greeting too and reaches out for you as if nothing was wrong. His touch feels wrong, the lies feeling like an impenetrable barrier between you and you don't sink into his touch as you usually did, nor do you make any attempt to reach out for him in return.

"Still want to go to the black lake tonight?" He says, reaching out to play with a strand of your hair from the haphazardly thrown up ponytail. His words feel like a knife, like a taunt of what you missed out in last night. Did he know that you knew about his jaunts last night or was he planning on denying the entire thing and acting like nothing was wrong?

You couldn't bite your tongue any longer, the unyielding sleep deprivation affecting your ability to regulate your emotions and you pulled yourself back out of his reach with a venomous look in your eyes.

"Thought you'd have seen enough of it with Angelina last night,' you spit out, the quickly fading logical part of your brain hardly believing that you were having this conversation with Fred, the downfall of your relationship taking you completely by surprise as it's ungodly pace. He blanches, face flushing pale as his ears turn more and more pink upon hearing your words. His eyes widen momentarily and the sickness in your gut increases as you note how panicked he looks, your fears confirmed that he was intending on not telling you anything.

"Princess," he says, trying to bounce back from his momentary shock as he reaches out for you but you avoid his hand entirely, blocking him by slightly turning your body to the right, away from him.

"My name is y/n," you counter, uncaring for his term of endearment. His brown creases but in a flash it's gone, his gaze now focused on your ear. You watch as his eyes harden, no longer looking guilty as his eyes set into a hard stare that grazes across your face until he finally looks into your eyes, somehow in competition with you for how angry you can gaze at eachother.

"It's not my whereabouts that need questioning though is it?" He says through partially gritted teeth, unrelenting eyes staring into your soul.

"What are you talking about?" You counter, trying desperately to hold onto your anger but it's quickly draining from you under his suspicious scrutiny.

"Seems you forgot to hide that one," he spits, pointing to the mark behind your ear. Your gaze softens immediately as you realise what he's pointing to- the pink mark on your neck. In your haste to not set your hair on fire in potions, you'd quickly tied up your hair and had completely forgotten that the mark on your neck would now be visible.

"Fred," you say, the tables turning on you now as you cower under his powerful gaze.

"Thought it was odd that you kept disappearing," he says with a grumble, his voice sounding so cold and distant that you barely recognise it. "Who is he?"

"What?" You ask suddenly, quietly, completely floored by his accusation, your mouth agape as you look upon the heated gaze of your boyfriend, though you quickly realise it may be the last time you can call him that. Never had you thought that he would have accused you of cheating. Finding out your secret maybe but this? Never.

"You heard me, who is it? Bet it's Towler isn't it," he sneers, almost spitting as he says Kenneth Towler's name to taunt you. "Reckon he's long overdue for a second dose of bulbadox powder."

You're frozen in disbelief at the furthering accusations he's spouting, his mind already wandering back to Kenneth Towler who's skin had erupted into boils during your fifth year thanks to Fred putting Bulbadox powder in his pyjamas when he'd come on to you a bit too strongly during a mid-season Quidditch game. Fred had been so distracted upon seeing Towler attempt to drape his arm around you that it caused him to miss an oncoming bludger that caught the tail end of Wood's broom, throwing him off balance and equating in a deciding goal that had given Ravenclaw the lead, that then resulted in their victory over Gryffindor. Fred had been furious, not at you naturally but at Towler who he'd declared had lost them the whole game and had vowed a form of revenge by adding the bulbadox.

"It is isn't it?" He prods, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No!" You say with vengeance, wanting to shoot down that accusation straight away. "There's no one," you add. He huffs out a humourless laugh that makes your entire body fill with dread.

"Well someone's giving you those marks and it's certainly not me!" He argues, "haven't let me anywhere near you for weeks, which is funny because you're usually up for it whenever."

Your blood runs cold at his words and you resist the instinctual urge to slap him right across his stupid face. It's like the four years of your relationship have been nothing to him; pulled apart and mocked by one single comment that now made you question everything. Was that all it was to him? Were you just easy and available? You felt physically sick by the thought and you were certain that nothing had ever hurt you so deeply before. The boy you'd fallen so helplessly in love for, the one with the fire red hair and the cheeky grin that only ever seemed to have eyes for you had changed so quickly right before your eyes. The very boy that had supported all of your creative dreams, encouraging you to keep painting and keep creating even when you doubted yourself or lacked inspiration. Merlin, most of the time he was your inspiration.

You realise that there's nothing left to say, that any further attempt to defend yourself will only fall on deaf ears and by his last comment, you weren't sure it was worth trying to salvage the joke that had been your relationship. You thought of the secret you'd be hiding, of the real reason you had been sneaking away and lying to him, so far away from his assumption that it was almost laughable- but now completely void of any importance. There was no coming back from this. What you assumed to have been love for the past four years had completely disappeared from his eyes and you knew from this moment onwards that all you would ever see when he gazed upon you would be pure disdain.

It feels like every bone is breaking in your body simultaneously as you walk away, like your heart is directly under the cruciatus curse with the sheer volume of anguish within your body. You've never felt pain like it, completely unable to distinguish exactly where it hurts or why. You let vision is blurred and your body physically hurts, your ears ringing from the screams of pain that resonate around your head but are trapped inside your mind. You don't look at Fred, you can't, nor can you bear to listen for him calling out to you as you walk away, the last glimmer of hope gone.

You consider returning to your dorm and locking yourself away for the foreseeable future, skipping all of your classes and sobbing until you can't anymore as you body screams for you to do but you can't. You can't let anyone see you like that, nor would you be able to answer anyone's questions or deal with their stares. And so, you run to the one place you knew you'd be safe.

Fang greets you enthusiastically the second you push through the door to the empty hut and collapse against the door with a roaring cry. The anguish in your cries is one that you'd never heard emitted from yourself or any other human and you no longer fight back the floods of tears that fall down your face like an unstoppable river that had broken the dam. Fang, sensing your distress, walks over to you and calmly sits beside you, placing his huge head in your lap as you cry. You hold on to the lovable boarhound like an oversized teddy bear as the tears flow, uncaring about the inevitable puddle of drool that he'll leave in your lap, the comfort of the sweet dog more needed than ever.

You don't know how long you sit there crying with your pal by your side for every moment but eventually the tears begin to slow, your breath finally evening out though your heart still pounds, much like your head. Fang lifts his head slightly, his big eyes peering into yours and you give him a thankful smile through the tears, even if he doesn't know exactly what you're trying to convey. He gives your arm a little nudge and in your near delusional state, you assume that it's a reply to your thankfulness. You chuckle, giving him a good scratch of appreciation on his wrinkled forehead at the absurdity of the situation, but you'd be forever thankful that of all things, Fang was the only one that had held you together in your darkest moment.

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #Fred Weasley fic #requests #requests completed

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ivymarquis · 2 years ago

Text

A Little Death

Pairing| Ghost x F!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 7k Kinks/Content/Warnings| The author has decided she can't be assed to edit this, Chubby!Reader, Kidnapping, nondescript mentions of torture. Ambiguous mentions of S/A (vague enough you can chose to ignore that part if you want tbh), Reader is traumatized from her ordeal but working through it. Fingering, PiV, riding, squirting, Simon has a moment where he's worried he triggered reader after sex but that is an incorrect assumption on his part.

On days like this Simon can almost pretend he’s normal.

The game’s on, a beer in one hand while the other has been commandeered by his girlfriend with a simple “Gimmie.”

Simon has never been one to worry about his nails beyond clipping them for practicality’s sake.

Having a SAS lieutenant for a boyfriend means she deals with what she insists is Simon’s paranoia and he insists is a healthy level of suspicion about the outside world. Having a nail technician for a girlfriend means every so often she’ll commandeer his hands to ensure they’re up to her standards. As it turned out, adhering to regulations wasn’t up to par for her.

His neighbor is a popular woman.

It sets him on edge, all the traffic. One or two people at a time, usually other women- sometimes with a man in tow, other times not. They show up, they stay for maybe an hour or maybe 4, and they leave. Within 30 minutes someone else is knocking on her door.

Normal men humor their partners about things they don’t particularly give a fuck about when left to their own devices, as an acknowledgment of its importance to them.

And so he sits, beer in one hand as she works on the other. Once she’s finished she gathers up the towel that acts as a catch for the various clips and trimmings before making her move to switch sides, Simon easily acquiescing to her whim.

“I’m not keeping you up, am I?” She asks one night. Music plays lowly from a laptop on her patio as he steps onto his for a smoke break. Just because he’s got his vice doesn’t mean he wants the whole flat smelling like it.

“Don’t sleep much anyway, pet. Bit of music won’t change that one way or another.”

Despite his insistence that he’s merely humoring her, he soaks up the attention she readily gives him. When she’s done and tidied after herself she returns with a small bottle of lotion.

He’s got one arm wrapped around her shoulders, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her head as she massages his hand. If he plays his cards right tonight he can probably get her to soothe some of the aches and stiff muscles that always plague him. For now he melts as she seems to know exactly what points to hit in his palm and forearm.

It’s domestic and normal and Simon can almost ignore the burner phone he keeps on him at all times.

It goes off at 5am on a Sunday, Simon already awake and having been watching the ceiling fan since 4:30. He can’t fall back asleep but can’t bring himself to separate from her.

She burrows further into his chest as his shifting disrupts her. He’s fairly certain she would crawl inside his ribcage if she could, curl up right next to his heart and never leave.

Simon would gladly let her.

She’s a nail technician, he comes to learn. Sure as shit, he eventually memorizes the traffic that comes and goes on a roughly two week interval. Some of them are steadfast in their appointments. 2 o clock every other Thursday. 4 o clock every other Friday. Others not so much- they come around frequently but the days and times are random after the 14 day mark.

The familiarity of some of the faces takes him slightly less on edge. He will never relax, not truly, but it settles him down now that he knows the pattern.

It also explains why her hands have two completely different designs on each one. Color, pattern, the shape of the nails. Her left and right hand look like they belong to two different people.

Simon doesn’t use social media, for obvious reasons. His little neighbor has formed an entire career for herself based off of it.

But the phone buzzes on the nightstand, an omniscient presence that always hovers heavy in the air.

“Price?” Is all he gives for a greeting. Trying to keep his words short and concise. He doesn’t want to wake her, still under the lull she draws him into without trying.

He keeps his work and his personal life separate with no intention of ever melding the two.

“Laswell’s got intel. We meet in 2 days, back on base at 06:00.”

He is about to respond, both an acknowledgment and a hopeful end to the conversation, when she stretches next to him with a groan of protest at being awoken so early.

“Tell your other girlfriend I said hi,” she grumbles, already knowing it’s Price on the phone and that the clock is officially counting down on the time they have left together.

“You know at a certain point I'm going to just decide you’ve got a whole secret life with a wife and kids and a picket fence.”

He doesn’t want his work to ever follow him home. Not to her. He keeps them strictly separate. She knows he’s military- specifically SAS- and that he works in counter terrorism and that’s about all he’s willing to tell. She doesn’t need to know details. And more importantly the details don’t ever need to know about her.

His past missions have haunted him in the worst way possible. He’s finally rebuilt something for himself as the ghost of a dead man, and doesn’t want anything to ever tarnish what he’s found.

He can’t entirely blame her. It takes a leap of faith to accept the little he offers her. What does he have? A dead man’s name and most likely a violent end waiting for him.

Eventually he does offer a small peace offering. Price is enough to settle the concerns that she hides as jokes. Provides enough credibility that she can let go of the concern that he’s living a double life.

Well, he is. But not the kind that nags at her.

Price knows her; Gaz and Soap know that he’s got someone waiting for him at home, but Simon is already at his limit of how much intermingling he can handle. They’re both compromising, both making allowances for their comfort levels for the sake of the other. But he has to draw the line somewhere.

If Simon had his way Gaz and Soap would be none the wiser, but a night of frantic coupling before he’d left had Simon bearing marks that are incredibly obvious in the changing room.

“Steamin’ Jesus L.T.! You get jumped by a wildcat?” The chortle from the Scot makes it obvious that Johnny is yet again not afraid to push Simon’s buttons.

There’s no denying what they are, nor how he got them. Neither Soap nor Gaz are stupid.

Long, red scratch marks criss cross the broad expanse of his scarred back. He certainly hadn’t complained when his lovely girl had left her mark on him- those nails dragging across his skin had only encouraged him as his hips clapped wetly against hers, hands gripping her knees as he pressed them to her shoulders.

Most nights he is soft and gentle and strokes her skin while his lips press either in her hair or the soft expanse of her neck. He doesn’t roughhouse her tonight, but the knowledge he’ll be gone for weeks and tonight is their last together for the foreseeable future?

Well, the pair of them are a bit amped about the impending separation. It’s a good thing neither of them are particularly known for their good sleeping habits, because there’s not a lot of that usually happening on the nights before Simon leaves.

Leaving without waking her up is an impossible task but he tries anyway.

Whereas Simon finds sleep difficult to achieve and eventually sleeps like the dead once he finds it, she drifts readily enough but will wake at the drop of a hat.

Usually she’ll settle soon after. Eyes following his form in the dark, waiting expectantly for him to come back after he dresses to kiss her goodbye.

They carve out a routine for themselves. One for when Simon is home, and one for when he’s preparing to walk out the door until eventually coming back through it.

His therapist is equal parts shocked and pleased to hear that Simon is taking the leap and opening himself up emotionally to someone.

His therapist is less pleased about the way he simply buries himself in her life when he’s on leave.

Simon is nothing- has nothing- when he is not acting in the line of duty. He is a dead man with nothing to his name and no one who gives a fuck if he ever walks back through the door that isn’t tied to his military career.

He thrives on the stability and schedule on base. On the simplicity of nights spent out on the field. Wake up, piss, dont die, go to sleep. Wake up, repeat.

Some days the only thing keeping him from trying to end it all (again, he bitterly acknowledges) when he’s gotten too far into a bottle of bourbon is his therapist and the thought of his team’s face at the news.

Until, at least, he meets her.

The mission is brief but successful. Simon is pleased.

The deepest of the scratch marks has just finished healing and he’s already missing the sensation of her nails dragging against his skin- and he’s not picky about the context, either.

There have been plenty of nights he’s fallen asleep with his face buried in her chest with one of her hands scratching gently at his scalp and the other tracing in broad strokes across his back.

Of course those nails also feel divine scratching at his abdomen while she is on her knees for him.

There’s a process he goes through when he gets home. It lets him shed the mantle of Ghost- to calm down as much as he’s able and be better equipped to deal with civilian life. Helps him give her the illusion that she is with a normal man who’s not holding onto himself with a death grip, desperately trying to keep the pieces together.

He feels fine when he leaves base and heads home. Everything is normal.

Until he turns the corner and sees the door ajar.

Fear runs ice cold in his veins, hackles raised and on guard.

I’m just being paranoid, he tries to self soothe as he steps towards the door. She tells me all the time.

Course, it was one thing when he gripes about how she answers the door without looking to see who it is. She doesn’t leave the fucking door open.

“Wish you’d at least look at the peep hole before just opening the bloody door,” he grouses into her hair, pulling her in so she’s tucked up to his side.

“If I’m expecting someone to come at 3 and there’s a knock at 3, I already know who it is, Si.”

There are times when he is grateful that she has, by comparison, lived a life where she thinks he is paranoid and needlessly worries. She hasn’t had the experiences he has, and he doesn’t wish that upon her. He’s grateful with the knowledge that every time he’s sent out, thus far, that she’s been tucked away safe and sound until he returns.

But of course the other shoe was always going to drop eventually.

“Price?” Simon doesn’t know who else to call.

He’s standing in the middle of his flat, evidence of an altercation scattered around the living room.

She put up a fight if the state of the flat is anything to go by. He wants to be proud of that at least, use it as hope-

He just feels hollow.

A group the 141 has dealt with prior are the ones all the signs point to. They wanted the team’s attention and by God they fucking got it.

Simon doesn’t understand how they found she has any ties to him. He’s so careful- keeps her tucked away and hidden from any potential cross over with his work.

The next few days are a blur and Simon’s mental health has seen better days.

He resigns himself, even when Laswell gets a hit and the 141 are loaded into a helo, to the fact that at best this will be a body retrieval mission.

Even as Soap gives a reassuring knock into his shoulder- we’ll get her back, LT- as confident as ever.

His sweet girl is dead, just like every other person Simon has ever cared about.

He doesn’t understand what he’s done to deserve losing them all. The only ones he has left are his team, and that’s a tenuous state at best. His family was good. They were normal people with normal lives. She is good and a normal person.

Her only sin is being foolish enough to love him.

Some time between getting on the bird and offloading, Simon forces the thoughts in a corner and blocks them off.

Simon, the terrified boyfriend, gives way to Ghost so he can get through this in one piece. He just wants to find her, bring her home and bury her body. He’s numb to anything beyond the scope of the plan he’s formed in his mind.

It’s laughably easy. A fringe group the 141 has had altercations with- she’s not exactly a high profile prisoner. They just wanted to fuck with Simon.

There’s no satisfaction or vindication as they clear the building floor by floor.

He feels nothing.

The further they venture into the building with no sign of her, the pit in his stomach sinks just as far. There’s no sign of anything concrete or anywhere they’d keep a prisoner.

And then there, in a corner of a hallway, Ghost spots it-

An acrylic nail lying broken on the ground, dried blood clotted on the tips.

For the first time in days, Simon feels something.

It’s not hope. He doesn’t dare hope.

But it’s confirmation that she has, at some point, been in the building.

It’s also confirmation that she gave it a fighting chance.

She’s a civilian- nothing much she can do against professional criminals. But she tried and Simon has to find something in that.

They split into pairs down a hallway clearing rooms. Every door that opens only to not have her in it is like a knife that keeps twisting in his abdomen.

Just let him have this one thing.

It’s just as Ghost and Soap have called out clear on another room that he hears Price’s voice call to him down the hall.

There’s only one reason Price would be calling for him specifically.

As he approaches he can hear the captain again, softer this time. Can’t make out what he’s saying but everything feels slow; like he’s moving under water.

As his mind prepares him for every horrific potential image waiting for him beyond the threshold of the door- there’s nothing that prepares him for what he sees.

She’s alive.

Wide eyed and panicked, which is to be expected all things considered, but she’s here and she’s breathing.

Simon forgets himself entirely. He swings wildly from feeling nothing to feeling everything and it bubbles up all at once as he barrels towards her.

He forgets that while she knows Simon is SAS she knows nothing of Ghost. Simon works in counter terrorism, yes, but she knows nothing about the mask.

So after being kidnapped and going through God-knows-what in her absence, she’s got no fucking clue the 6’4 fucker with the skull mask gunning for her is her boyfriend.

The sharp, croaked “Stay the fuck away from me!” doesn’t cut but it does jog his memory enough to know she’s absolutely terrified.

Again there’s that part of him that is proud of her. After everything she’s been through even if she wouldn’t stand a chance in an actual altercation- She’s not huddled in the corner. She looks willing to fight him, until Simon rips the mask off his face. “It’s me, love! It’s me.”

“Simon? What the fuck is that?!”

Rather than scrambling to get away she turns to launch herself at him, a tangle of limbs as they cling to each other and reassure themselves that yes this is real and yes the other is there. That this fucking nightmare is over.

Simon buries his nose in her hair- was so certain he’d be bringing her home in a body bag he almost doesn’t know what to do with himself. She’s shaking in his grip, sobs ripping through her as he shushes her gently and murmurs “It’s alright, love. I’ve got you now.”

“As much as I love a good reunion- we need to get going, Ghost.” Price is ever the voice of reason, because Simon’s head is not in the game right now.

He wants to cling to her and never let her go- he needs to pull his head out of his ass.

Price isn’t wrong. As much as he has to fight off the impulse to tuck her against his side and keep her there, they have shit to do.

He won’t truly be able to relax until she’s safely stowed on the helo and they’re on their way back.

It’s a bit easier once he puts the mask on. His brain is trained to focus on work and not let his personal life muddy the waters. Where Simon can’t help but falter, Ghost is dauntless.

Simon can barely string a thought together now that he has her back in his arms. Simon still cannot believe she’s alive and breathing even after touching, smelling and hearing her.

But Ghost can focus on getting her to the helo.

Everything is a blur as Price and Gaz lead with Soap bringing up the rear.

Ghost can’t quite decide where he wants her- keeps alternating between keeping her behind him in the event they get blindsided, that he’ll take any hits that go past Price or Gaz, or getting her in front of him so he can keep an eye on her, and there’s two SAS soldiers in front of her and two behind.

The hostiles in the building wanted the 141’s attention. Mission fucking accomplished.

The ones they chance across are dropped with ease. Simon is no stranger to returning to a location and making his point. Right now he’s got bigger concerns to be worried about.

A knot of anxiety lodges itself on his ribcage as they move through the building that doesn’t unwind until he’s got her strapped to her seat in the helo.

For the first time in days he can breathe. The knot slowly untangles as they ascend.

It finally settles in for both of them that she is out and she is safe. She’s been quiet the whole trek to the helo but Price, Soap, and Gaz have been on enough hostage recovery missions to not be caught off guard as she bursts into tears and buries her face in Ghost’s vest.

It’s finally safe for her to do so, the adrenaline wearing off as she sobs.

For the most part the other three men try to avert their eyes and not intrude.

Simon’s always been reserved about his life off base and watching him soothe his partner is bordering too personal for the others to witness.

It comes and goes in waves; Simon will settle her down, crooning quietly in her ear too low for the others to hear. She’ll stifle her tears for a bit as he soothes her. They go straight to medical after landing to have her looked at. She starts up again while waiting for the nurse to come back, trying to apologize to Simon through choked sobs.

He won’t hear it, softly but firmly brushing her apologies to the side and assuring her everything’s fine now, love. No need to apologize.

He feels physically ill when the nurse delicately asks if she needs a rape kit or screenings done.

The rest of the 141 gives them a wide berth- which is a marked accomplishment because all too often Soap and Gaz are trailing behind him and finding some sort of shenanigans to get up to. Simon is perfectly content with the arrangement. He wants to focus his attention on her and that’s easier to do without the sergeants under foot.

His room on base is much like his entire apartment was before she moved in.

It’s 3am, Simon needs to take a piss and as he’s doing so, he’s not-quite eye level with a sign that says

“★★★★★ -

Would poop here again”

He’s got no idea when or where she found that, let alone put it up, but rolls his eyes good naturedly as he tucks himself away.

Normal people have bathroom decor.

Simon can appreciate a bit or a joke as much as the next person- but while this space is his it’s not something he’s ever felt the need to decorate. It’s a bed for him to crash on in between missions or if he’s too bloody exhausted to safely make the trek home.

There’s only one piece of any sort of personal touch to the room- a framed photo of her.

Simon intends to see her through the next few days- they’ll head home in the morning and realistically there’s only so long John can hold off on calling the boys in again. But the captain says he’ll do what he can to keep Simon home while they settle back in. He’s been due for some leave anyway.

He doesn’t sleep the first night. She swings drastically between being knocked out and jolting awake screaming and crying. Even once she’s gotten over the initial shock of her rescue it still takes time for her nervous system to calm down.

“I’ve got you, love- you’re safe here” he murmurs into her ear as she trembles like a leaf. “We’ll be home soon, yeah? You’ll feel better once you’re in our bed.”

The question is twofold- it is to soothe her, and also to gauge her reaction to the prospect of going home. Simon won’t hesitate to set the flat ablaze if it makes her feel better.

Start fresh.

For now she seems to sleep better if he’s got her pinned up against the wall- the bulk of him a physical barrier to anything that might enter the room.

He’s always slept between her and the door so that’s no hardship- it just takes time to realize she feels safer trapped between him and the wall.

They make it through the first night in one piece, although the next morning she will not stop chewing on her nails. With someone else, he wouldn’t necessarily be surprised- but she’s never been a nail biter.

It dawns on him, as she sits on the couch and bursts into tears, that she wants the nails (or at least the ones that survived the ordeal) off, and is winding herself up too much to take them off the way she knows she should.

Simon goes to her office; he’s watched her enough that he knows the steps and the materials she’ll need, gathering them up before coaxing her to the table.

There’s no interest in redoing them but Simon manages to get the current sets off of her so she doesn’t damage her nail beds- assuming she stops chewing on them (which she does).

Over the next few days he lets her set the pace. She’s jumpy at home and calmer when he takes her out to run errands or just to stretch their legs.

Maybe he will propose moving sooner rather than later. Their building is a shithole anyway.

He puts her in therapy after a week. It’s the only time he’s away from her. Realistically he knows it’s not good to have her so used to always being within arms length or eyesight of him- it’s not sustainable when eventually he will be called back in. But he has no qualms for the coddling he subjects her to while he’s able to. She’s quiet and comfortable with his hovering in a way she’d never tolerate before she was abducted- he figures he’ll know when she’s feeling a bit like herself again when she starts complaining about him not giving her any space.

Knowing she’s got the therapist gives him some security on how she’ll mentally cope when eventually he needs to leave again.

Her bursting into tears occurs less frequently. If Simon has to pry himself away from her to take a piss in the middle of the night she’s not up, back ramrod straight and waiting for him to come back with wet, teary eyes.

As the days tick on, bleeding into months later, Simon idly acknowledges that-short of when he’s on deployment- this is the longest they’ve gone without having sex. There’s nothing else that goes with that acknowledgement- he’s far more concerned with her well being than he is getting his kicks. He’s just taking stock of all their ‘normals’ and prior to her abduction they’d had quite the active sex life.

It’s one day as they’re watching a movie that it’s apparent Simon isn’t the only one aware of their dry spell.

They’re laying on the couch, her back pressed against his front with one of his heavy arms draped across her rib cage to keep her snuggled up against him as they watch the screen in front.

At first he thinks that she’s repositioning- thinks nothing of it and lifts his arm just enough to allow her the freedom to wiggle to a more comfortable spot. She keeps wiggling though and Simon is trying to keep his mind off the sensation of her arse grinding into his groin. Trying to ignore the way his dick twitches in interest, because- God help him- he's not dead and the love of his life is grinding her arse on him. Bodies are going to do what bodies do, and he can feel himself stiffening in response.

“Sweetheart, you need to sit still,” he whispers the plea into her ear.

Her head tilts back towards him and lust jolts through his body at the look in her eyes while she still continues to grind against him.

“I miss you, Simon,” and given how he is rarely further than grabbing distance from her, there’s very few other ways to interpret what exactly it is that she is missing.

He’s a goner when she gives him that wide, doe eyed expression paired with the prettiest “Please?” he’s ever heard in his life.

One moment they’re quiet and content laying on their sides on the couch- the next Simon’s gripping her arm and pulling her on top of him as he settles onto his back. She follows his lead and moves so her weight is settled on his hips as his hands grip hers.

It is no hardship on his end to wait for her- the patience never truly even registered in his brain. She can have as much time as she needs and Simon will give it to her gladly.

But his pretty girl batting her eyes at him and pleading softly for him? His patience isn’t the only thing he’s willing to give her.

“Are you sure?” He doesn’t mean to second guess her or make her question herself but he does want to make sure that she’s not acting on obligation.

“Yes, Simon- Please,” and who is he to deny her?

His hands are on her immediately- pulling her towards him and encouraging her to grind, knowing her sweet clit will light up at the friction of her soft panties dragging across the rough material of his jeans.

His lips find hers, separating only briefly as he hauls her dress up and over her head, happily discarding the material in a heap on the floor.

His hands grip her hips, Simon relaxing into the couch while his fingers dug into the pillow soft skin perching above him. He’s straining against the fabric of his jeans- knows the tip of his erection is leaking clear pre and it’s not just going to be her being the reason the fabric has a wet spot.

The couch is certainly not the worst place to be, his beautiful girlfriend’s tits in his face as she grinds down in his lap with little hitching breaths.

“Just like that, pretty,” he encourages, kissing down her jawbone, the length of her neck and across her collar bone before happily mouthing at her breasts which are blessedly right in his face.

Simon groans in pleasure as he teases one nipple, her sweet mewls and the grip on his hair only spurring him on.

Grabbing a handful of her plush arse, he groans in anticipation while switching from one breast to the other.

It’s been a fair while since his back has been shredded by her nails and he can’t wait to feel the bite of them dragging down the length of his spine.

“Lift up, sweetheart,” he instructs, somewhat loath to release her plump bottom but eager to get her dripping for him.

She pulls up enough for him to slip one hand between her legs. Exploring fingers are quick to spread her wetness, dipping between her folds and dragging back up to circle her clit softly.

“Fuck- Simon!” she whines in his ear.

He knows enough by now what makes her tick. Once she’s all warmed up and ready to roll, that sweet cunt of hers could take a thrashing. But warming up involves feather-light touches to get her squirming and squealing for him.

“Feels good, pretty?” he asks despite knowing the answer in the way her arms wrap around his neck and she sags against him, hips twitching as she lets him tease her.

“Ye-yeah,” she murmurs, and presses her lips against his neck as he takes another pass- finger pulling away from her clit just to draw shivers from her as he traces back down her folds and presses ever so lightly against the entrance on her- just to the first knuckle- and making his way back to tease her clit.

Each pass has her rocking her hips more as he slips more of his finger inside, eventually adding a second that has her mewling and squirming in his lap.

He’s going to have one hell of a hickey from how she’s sucking on his neck, but Simon can’t bring himself to care. Not when his ears are graced with the delightful little noises she makes- whimpers of protest as he pulls his fingers out of her, the shaky inhales as he circles her clit and the trembling moan when he once again slides his fingers inside of her to give a few pointed strokes to her g-spot just to get her shivering and blinking up at him with lust-blown eyes.

“Fuck you’re wet,” there’s absolutely zero resistance now, even when he slides a third finger inside her.

“Please,” she mewls into his skin, hips rocking in time with the thrust of his fingers into her.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.” He’s always found her an absolute delight to tease- she gets so flustered and stares at him with that doe eyed, betrayed look- how dare he make her ask for anything when it’s obvious what she wants.

“Please let me cum,” she pants as her eyes screw up in pleasure while his fingers trace and circle her clit for several passes.

“You wanna cum, love?” His tone is just a bit too soft to be a mocking tease despite the way she glares at him. Spoiled little thing so easily sliding back into her old habits.

“I’m going to bite you,” she grumbles in bemused annoyance, brows furrowing as she tries to follow his hand while teasing her.

He doesn’t doubt his little viper for a second, mollifying her displeasure with three fingers digging for that spot that makes her see stars.

“Oh~,” she mewls against him as he stokes the fires of her orgasm with a vengeance. He doesn’t stop, angling his hand so his thumb can stroke against her clit and enjoying the way she trembles against him like a leaf caught in a windstorm.

“That the spot, hm? Right there, innit?” He rumbles low in her ear, a satisfied smirk on his face as she nods in a big sweeping motion against his neck. “Come on, pretty. You wanna cum so badly? Do it.” he baits.

Mission accomplished.

Fuck he’ll remember the vision of her crying and cumming and trembling in his hold, soaking his forearm and abdomen as she squirts, for the rest of his days. His free hand runs soothingly down her back for a few passes before pulling both hands away from her.

She’s immediately whining against him, upset at having his touch taken away. “Simon, please-”

He shushes her with a kiss to her temple, “I know what you need, sweetheart,” he murmurs while deftly undoing his pants and freeing his cock.

It only takes a few strokes, already straining and ready to perform, before they’re shuffling as he pulls and maneuvers her so she’s hovering above him and Oh fuck has Simon missed this as she sinks down on him.

It always takes a couple attempts- he’s not a small man, and doesn’t want to risk injury. Not to mention there’s just something fucking delicious about only giving her a few inches, pulling back and feeding her just a few more. Slow, short, steady thrusts that get deeper bit by bit, having Simon ready to melt into the couch at the bliss of being buried in her by the time she sinks all of her weight onto him, her groin pressing against his.

She’s so fucking warm and wet, clinging to him as she shuffles to get good leverage on top of him to bounce.

Bloody fucking hell does she feel good. “That’s it, pretty. Take it all,” he encourages her while she whimpers above him- if he angles himself just right he can grind her clit against him in a way that has her sucking down air and shivering.

She’s so good for him but he knows there’s only so long she can bounce in his lap- even resting on one knee on the couch and her other foot on the floor so she can shift her weight and give leg a break every now and then, Simon throwing his head back and groaning loudly.

It’s one of the only times he’s particularly verbose- Usually content to be silent and broody unless he has a specific question in mind, the bedroom (or in this case the living room) is the one place where he is a chatterbox. The mouth on him is surreal at times, and while one would think his sweet girl would be use to the filth every now and then he’ll catch her off guard with some particularly out of pocket comment.

For now though, he’s a bit reserved- doesn’t want to go from zero to a hundred out of nowhere.

No, for now his attention is focused on the goddess bouncing on his cock, wondering if he can get her to squirt a second time if he just- he shifts underneath her, changing the angle and fucking hell does that seem to do the trick for her. Swiping one of his thumbs across his tongue before pressing it to her clit and circling again, Simon can’t help the smug look on his face when she squeals. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck,” he grunts as he thrusts up into her. From how those pretty thighs are trembling, her legs are about to give out as he fucks into her.

“Simon!” She’s yelping his name with glassy eyes and a clenching cunt “Fuck- Simon! Please-”

She doesn’t have the energy to get herself back up again- poor thing, her thighs must be burning, and he can’t help but be a cocky fuck about the fact that she loves riding his dick to the point that she physically can’t keep going.

“On your back, sweetheart,” he instructs with a light swat to her ass- appreciating the way her body jiggles at the impact.

His sweet girl has done so well and worked so hard, it’s only right that he rewards her. Once she’s on her back he grips her under her knees and folds her legs back- gives himself room between those gorgeous thighs.

“Fuck, baby- please don’t stop,” she pants underneath him, back arching in pleasure as his mouth drops to her breasts again. Her arms wrap loosely around his neck, and he twitches in anticipation at the feel of her nails tracing ever so lightly against his back.

“Not gonna stop, pretty girl.” he groans against her skin, alternating between which nipple he has between his teeth.

Fuck she’s clenching down on him like a vice. He knows she’s getting close; squirming in his grip, keeping her legs nice and spread for him. The feel of her nails reaching down his back and dragging up his spine pulls a groan that would be embarrassing if Simon could find it within himself to care in the slightest. The slight pain encourages him as he cants against her.

“Simon!” The sound of his hips knocking into the back of her thighs is loud and messy. Fuck he’s such a goner when she looks up at him with that sweet expression on her face- pure adoration and wonder in her eyes.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Fucking hell, love,” he grunts out, a second wind reinvigorating him when she starts shaking. Those plush thighs shaking in his hold as he knocks the sense out of her pretty head, he’s so fucking close he can taste it but is determined to get her across the finish line first.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he purrs in her ear, “You feel fucking perfect taking my cock. This wet cunt’s all mine, innit?”

All she can do is chant “Yes! Yes! Yes!” over and over again- Simon’s not sure if even she is certain if she’s repeating the word to answer him, or if she’s just babbling because he’s making her feel good and she’s getting close.

“You gonna cum again love? Gonna soak me, hm?” He’s just running his mouth now- knows the shit she likes to hear, reaffirmed by the way she’s shivering in his hold and crying for it with a glassy eyed gaze.

Whatever she is going to respond with is cut off with a squeal. Simon rears back, enjoying the show as she makes a mess all over his cock with her eyes rolled back. He lets go of one of her legs in favor of teasing her clit just shy of overstimulation to prolong her orgasm- she lets him for a time before her hands abandon shredding his back in favor of wrapping around his wrist in a plea for mercy.

“Simon it’s too much,” she laments with teary eyes as he pulls his hand away with a chuckle and a chaste kiss.

He stays curled over her, hips driving into hers. “Tell me where you want it,” he instructs.

“Inside! Please, I want it inside!” Her answer is sharp and immediate, the leg not pinned to her chest wrapping around his waist like she is daring him to even try to pull out.

And fuck there is something cathartic about his orgasm when it hits. Burying his face in her soft body while his hips snapped into hers a few times, Simon groans as his vision damn near whites out for a second.

Simon knows better than most that there’s good days and bad days- and a presumed good day can become a bad day quicker than one can blink. But overall he feels like consistently she’s doing better all around. They take their time calming down, Simon showering her in attention and getting a feel for where her head is at. Praising her for how well she did and making sure she feels stable.

He lets out a breath, feeling confident that she’s settled, having a good day, and everything is fine for now.

And it is. Until about two hours later.

One moment they’re finishing the movie they’d initially started before the impromptu romp on the couch, and then Simon has a 3 second warning of her sniffling as she obviously tries to fight back the tears and then she’s sobbing harder than she has in weeks.

Simon goes from content to concerned in a second, his blood turning to ice in his veins. His immediate assumption is that their prior activities finally caught up with her mentally and now that she’s had time to think it over it wasn’t good. It was too fucking soon to have sex. He should have told her no, should have been gentler, should have-

“Sweetheart? Talk to me,” his voice is tinged with a thinly controlled concern (not panic he convinces himself) and while he means to comfort her, she can hear his tone and that just sets her off anew.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she blubbers, turning to face him. “I don’t know why I’m crying!”

That settles Simon’s nerves somewhat, stroking her back and pulling her close to comfort her. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” he soothes her, listening to her sniffle against his shirt after shoving her into the crook of his neck.

“I just want to feel normal again,” she sobs into his collar.

“You will, love,” he assures her- never mind that ‘normal’ is something that even he struggles with on a near daily basis. “It’ll take time but you’ll get there. I promise.”

He’s a bastard for making a promise to her that he can’t guarantee to keep. There’s a part of him that knows that- hell, he’s been working on his shit for years and he still doesn’t feel normal most days.

But while he can’t promise that she’ll ever get back to feeling exactly the same as she did before all of this happened, he can promise that he’ll be by her side and ensure she’s adjusting. It will take time, and work, but Simon will make sure she gets there one step at a time.

#my writing #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #x chubby reader #cw sa implied

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sodaneko · 5 months ago

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 (𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟑: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

♫ Soko - See You in the Dark

Pull you closer just to feel you breathing, try to memorize the lines // Of your skin and your heart beating, two fragile lives collide // Wanna see you in the darkness when I close my eyes

word count: 2.2k

✰ 𝐜𝐰: brief mention of non-sexual nudity (bathing together)

⭅ back to m.list

Kuroo learned to love the rain. It reminded him of the day he met her.

Now, on this night a few months later, it is pouring again. The weather bureau urged everyone to stay home if they could to avoid getting caught in the monsoon, therefore the antique shop didn’t open its heavy wooden doors and Kuroo’s job at the delivery service called everything off for today as well. It was a blessing in disguise because it meant a rare day off for both of them around the same time. It’s not as if they’re not spending every free minute they got together, but there was something special about having a day off all responsibilities.

They didn’t get up until noon, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain and Jiji’s soft purrs at their feet (after he woke Kuroo at 5AM for a can of wet food–an unfortunate habit he established with the cat), sharing kisses and secrets in her canopy bed. It was rare for them to sleep alone these days, most of the time they did so only when one of them got sick, and even then they’d often prioritize comfort and shared warmth over not catching the other’s bug. They’ve become inseparable over time and lately Kuroo found himself struggling to remember what his life was like before her. He takes it as a good sign.

While Kuroo’s apartment was somewhat neat and tidy, paired with the struggle to fill up all the empty space and the high ceilings, hers seemed like an extension of the antique store below them. It’s lived in, an almost sacred space to be invited into. There’s bookshelves up to the ceiling, stacked with heavy and old art books and poetry in languages he doesn’t know, dried flowers in vases and hanging from the walls, a story attached to each. The wooden floor has uneven colors from ornamental carpets that barely get moved around, the sun and time working together to create unique patterns. Withered lines adorn the door frame from a time when her grandmother inhabited this space and carved a mark every time her granddaughter grew an inch or two.

It’s as if he’s discovering a new secret in every corner, like turning a page in his favorite book.

Jiji rubs against Kuroo’s legs when they’re in the kitchen together, meowing up at him till he puts him on his shoulders while he stirs the pot on the stove. The cat seems to enjoy the view from so high above and Kuroo gets to bask in her soft laughter every time she sees them like this.

“This cat is manipulating you to no end and you let him,” she huffs with a smile and looks back down at the broken fragments of a plate in front of her on the old kitchen table. Some parts of them are already glued back together, the former cracks now filled and held together by gold. Kuroo never gets tired of watching her work, of fixing things others would’ve thrown out by now. Not her though. Never her. Her hands hold all the patience of the world, tending to the shards as she pours love back into them.

Sometimes Kuroo catches himself thinking that maybe–maybe that’s exactly what she did to him, too.

The faint rumble of a thunder in the distance causes both of them to look out of the kitchen window. It is only early evening but the sky is pitch black, the storm and rain picking up and rattling against the old windows. Spooked out by the sounds of it, Jiji leaps down from Kuroo’s shoulders and retreats to the safety of his cave underneath the bed, eager to sit this one out. She seems calm though, which rubs off on Kuroo as well. He places a steaming bowl on an empty spot on the table close to her before pulling out a chair for himself, watching how she puts her work aside to pick up the spoon. She pauses as a thought crosses her mind, a small frown on her face.

“Did we remember to bring the laundry inside this time?”, she asks, already halfway up to check. Kuroo reaches for her wrist and gently pulls her back, urging her to sit. He smiles gently, his thumb brushing over her soft skin.

“Already did that earlier when you were absorbed in puzzling the pieces together,” he reassures her. The heavy laundry basket sits on the stairs connecting their apartments. Kuroo vividly remembers the last time it was pouring and they both ran outside to grab the clothes from the line in the backyard, already too late and getting soaked just as much in return. They sat an hour in his clawfoot bathtub together afterwards, trying to warm up again so they wouldn’t catch a cold. Her laughter was still ringing in his ears when she leaned back against his chest, nestled between his legs with her eyes closed as the hot water engulfed them, his hand splayed across her stomach. He remembers thinking that this might be the closest he ever got to heaven.

The storm outside picks up by the time they’re finished with dinner and the dirty dishes are left to soak in the sink for later. They find themselves huddled together in bed again. All the attempts of coaxing Jiji out from underneath it failed, but he seemed content with knowing they were closeby. He’d get his fair share of cuddles and treats once this passes.

“You still have gold dust on you,” Kuroo points out and brings one of her hands to his lips, kissing the shimmery fingertips gently.

“No way,” she protests with a small laugh, her expression softening underneath his caress. She rolls over to her side, head resting against his chest. His heartbeat picks up slightly. “I washed my hands a dozen times.”

“Then I guess you’re just that golden,” he retorts, his arm wrapping around her form and pulling her closer, wanting to feel more of her. He could never get enough of having her like this, her body heat seeping into him, their legs tangled together underneath the covers.

Another crashing thunder drowns out her reply, and then with one last flicker all light in the apartment dies down. The power went out. This was to be expected. Both of them are quiet for a few seconds before Kuroo presses a kiss to her crown, mumbling “want me to check that for you?” against her hair. Always in fix-it mode, like muscle memory to him.

She shakes her head and only inches closer to him, her hand slipping under the hem of his shirt to feel his warm skin. Kuroo lets out a quiet hum in return.

“No use in plugging the power back just now,” she mumbles and for a brief second the bedroom is illuminated from the lightning outside. “We’ll let the storm pass first. Plus, I don’t want to let you get up and go right now. Stay with me.”

Her last words seem to be laced with something else; a silent question and pleading. The unspoken desire to let the world spin without them for a while, enjoying these dead hours of the day when it can be just the two of them in perfect unison.

Kuroo tips her chin up with one finger. In the dark he can barely make out the silhouette of her but it doesn’t matter, he has memorized every inch of her with his fingertips alone a long time ago. He catches her lips with his, a gentle kiss exchanged between them, lasting for a few heartbeats.

“You don’t even have to ask”, he mutters against her lips, smiling when she steals another kiss from him. He lets her. She can have them all, all of him, his heart served on a silver platter if she wished for it. It baffles him sometimes, thinking how much of his life has gone by without getting to kiss her, until the sun, the moon and all of the stars set the waves in motion that lead to him finally meeting her.

When he told her back then that it all felt like a dream, one he’s scared of waking up anytime soon, he meant it. Sometimes it felt too good to be true, the way his life turned upside down only a few months ago. It’s in these moments that she’ll cup his face, not letting go until she covers every inch of it in kisses, one reminder at a time that he, too, deserves nice things. Great things, even. And the most miraculous one was right here in his arms, hiding her face in the crook of his neck and mumbling the sweetest words against his skin while the world outside is coming down.

Kuroo loves her.

He hasn’t said it out loud yet, but he feels it with every fiber of his heart and soul. He loves her, more than anything or anyone before. Some days it feels a little too big, a little too overwhelming, quite literally taking his breath away, and then she’ll call out his name and slip her hand into his and it drowns out all these loud thoughts again. She grounds him. She gave home a new meaning.

There’s this warmth about her that draws him to her like a moth to the flame–and he knows it’s not just him. The way she manages to bring people together in the shop never fails to amaze him, her quiet presence a lighthouse in the dark. He always laughs when she describes herself as some kind of hermit, spending hours alone as she sorts and catalogs whichever box of antiques washes up on her threshold that day. It’s almost as if she doesn’t recognize that she’s the center of this universe she built around herself; the bridge between the dead and the living. The one preserving love, till it’s ready to find a new pair of loving hands, cherishing these otherwise forgotten memories.

Then there’s her quirks, adding even more reasons to the endless list of why he fell in love with her. Whether it’s her grumpy expression whenever she has to do something on the computer (an ancient one in her back office which takes twenty minutes to boot up) or her habit of unprompted infodumping about a specific trinket that caught her attention–Kuroo loved all of it. It’s all part of her.

And while the big words still won’t fall from his lips just yet, he has his way of showing her, leaving no doubts that what he feels for her was true, unadulterated love. It’s in the sound of their shared laughter when she rides behind him on the bike, her arms wrapped around his middle and her face pressed against his broad back. It’s in the warm blanket thrown over her form after carrying her to bed when she fell asleep while reading on his couch. It’s in the kisses he trails down the side of her neck after she pushed a strawberry from the backyard between his lips.

He knows it’s only a matter of time till it feels right to put his feelings into actual words. It’s not like there’s a rush or expectations to do so. They do things in their own time, and right now there is not much to do except waiting for the storm to pass, till the sun brings a new dawn and they’ll pick themselves up again, hands intertwined.

Kuroo presses a soft kiss to her temple, one hand in her hair, the other on her thigh, keeping her pressed close to him.

“Sleepy much?”, he mumbles with a quiet laugh, feeling her breathing getting more steady and her body melting more into him. It isn’t late yet and it's not that long ago since they crawled out of these sheets earlier, but he doesn’t mind. His girl deserves all the rest she craves.

“You’re just so warm,” she mutters, her voice drowsy. Her fingertips draw small patterns against his collarbones. “Makes it hard not to doze off. Maybe I’m not so different from Jiji after all.”

This draws another laugh out of Kuroo. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, pulling the blanket up a bit higher to make sure she’s fully wrapped up in it.

“I’m nothing but a fool for both of you, that’s for sure,” Kuroo agrees with a soft chuckle, his head sinking against hers. The sound of the heavy rain drowns out everything else–his greedy heart, the overthinking, the words on the tip of his tongue. He feels content, safe; like he belongs. Like coming home after being on the run for too long.

“You know what they say about the fools,” she whispers back without lifting her head. Her fingertips dance across his chest now, until they find his stumbling heart against his ribcage. Her palm comes to rest right above it and in this moment Kuroo feels as if gold is poured in the cracks of his heart as well. Mending it, putting the pieces back together; not like something broken but something that’s worth being tended to with all the gentleness of the world.

“The fools, they’re the lovers and the lonely, knowing everything and nothing about love except that they’re full of it.”

a/n: i love writing Kuroo POV so much and i'm so excited to write the last two chapters to this

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@staygoldsquatchling02 @gigiiiiislife @kameyyy @grassbutneo @kentocalls

@jellychannie @starry-magicshop @anonymity-222 @rriwyu @loveyislost

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#hq x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x you #haikyuu x you #hq x you #hq reader insert #haikyu x reader #hq fluff #hq imagines #kuroo fluff #-`��´- .txt

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pedropascalsx · 2 years ago

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Dabble request: F reader with Dieter Bravo. He finally wins a major award and the reader decides to award him with smutty sex

THE AWARD.

I slightly changed it and had them enter a bet… I hope that’s okay and I hope you like it. Also you sent this in April and I missed it, i’m so sorry it took so long.

Summary: you jokingly bet that you’ll fuck your best friend dieter bravo if he wins an oscar.

Warnings: Smut. P in V. Oral. (M&F receiving). Betting. Strong language. Dieter Bravo being… Dieter Bravo.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F! Reader.

Word Count: 2053

A/N: I tried LOL. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf for reading an unfinished version of this fic and encouraging me to finish it. I didn’t edit it and I’m too scared to read it back… so I don’t know how many mistakes are in it 😭😂 ENJOY!!

You groan as your phone wakes you up from the most comfortable sleep you’ve had in weeks, before reluctantly kicking off your covers and stepping out of bed.

The photo of Dieter Bravo's smug face flashing up on your phone screen makes you roll your eyes and curse his name before you swipe to answer. “It’s 5AM Diet, if someone isn’t dead, you’re able to be,” you growl into the phone.

“Shut up,” he says with an obnoxious chuckle, “I’m cashing in on our bet, pretty girl.”

“What?” You say before stuttering, “No. Not today, I’m not playing any of your annoying games this early.. . I’m hanging up and I'm going back to sleep, asshat.” You say, with a wide smile spreading across your face from the sound of his chuckling.

“I can hear you smiling.” He remarks and you roll your eyes again at how easily he can read you.

“What do you want, Dieter? I’m tired.”

“I already told you, I’m cashing in on our bet. March 21st 2015. You said you’d fuck me when I win an Academy Award.” Dieter recalls, his voice dripping with its usual arrogance.

“Buying a fake one from Etsy doesn’t count,” you sigh, imagining he’s just dragged himself back to his hotel from some club, “Dieter, if you haven’t already, go to bed, get so—.”

“I’m nominated,” he interrupts, ignoring the irritation in your voice, “My agent called me fifteen minutes ago. For Hunger Strike - Best Leading Actor.”

“Dieter, you better not be fucking with me.” You squeal with excitement, almost jumping up and down on the spot.

“Not yet, I’m not, pretty girl.”

“When are you home?” You ask, suddenly forgetting how tired you are.

“Eager are we?” He says, his eyebrows raising and the first real smile forming across his face in weeks despite his nomination.

“Shut up, asshat, you’ve got to fucking win the thing first… and if I recall correctly, which I do, I think I said I’d consider fucking you if you ever win one and I only said it so you’d take that damn role.”

“Mhmm. Nope. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the word ‘consider’ fall from those gorgeous lips before now,” he teases. “But jokes aside… Tell me you’ll come with me, I hate those fucking things, they’re only fun if you’re swooning over how handsome I am in a suit sitting next to me.”

“Shut up, asshat.”

“Come with me, pretty girl, put those shiny statues to shame, show them how you shine brighter.” He says, unaware of just how fucking cheesy he ends up sounding.

“Only if you buy me a burger after.” You say, glad he isn’t there to see the way you’re unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Deal.”

You haven’t left his side for the past few days, he had asked you quietly to stay with him while he went through the required amount of press and you had made sure that your hand was close enough for him to squeeze when he needed it.

And today was no different, the confident Dieter Bravo the whole world thinks that they know, nowhere to be seen and instead the sweet Dieter that a few people have the pleasure of knowing sits beside you, looking at the dress bag containing the tuxedo he’ll be adorning in just a few hours time.

“You okay?” You ask, quietly bumping your shoulder against his.

“Ask me again when this is all over,” he says, before taking a generous sip of his drink. “I fucking hate red carpets.”

You take his hand and squeeze it a few times, before resting your head on those broad shoulders that you love so much.

“Whatever happens tonight, I’m really fucking proud of you.” You murmur into his skin, “Always have been, you’re the best friend i’ve ever had.”

He shushes you before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, grateful that you’re with him. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Let’s do this.” You say, with a little scrunch of your nose.

“And the Academy Award goes to… Dieter Bravo.” The gorgeous actress announces and you swear you can hear his heart beating.

He stands slowly, fiddling with the front of his jacket before turning to face you, immediately smashing his lips to yours in a fleeting kiss that steals your breath before shaking the hand of his director and making his way to the stage.

His speech is short but insightful. He makes sure to make eye contact with you as he thanks you for encouraging him to take the role and then shuffles off the stage as quickly as he can.

“Will you be mad if I suggest we skip the after party?” He asks after they finish engraving his oscar, the award ceremony now over and more hands shook than he could possibly be bothered to count.

“Not at all,” you say, resting your head against his shoulder, and inspecting his shiny new award.

“Room service burgers and a shitty movie to fall asleep in front of?” He suggests, before wrapping his hand around your waist.

“Sounds like heaven.”

“It’s really fucking pretty,” you say, your hands wrapped around the statue.

“Yeah,” he says, from somewhere behind you. Unable to stop his eyes from scanning up and down your body, and unable to ignore the way his heart leaps everytime he looks at you. “Second prettiest thing in this room.”

“I’d call you a charmer, but I'm pretty certain you’re about to announce that you’re in first place,” you say, turning around to face him with a giggle and a signature scrunch of your nose.

“No. It’s you.” He says, “In every room. It’s you.”

“Charmer.”

You both stand in comfortable silence for a few moments, just staring at each other before you take a step towards him. “Academy award winner, Dieter Bravo.”

“The one and only,” he scoffs, with a roll of his eyes. “You look really fucking beautiful by the way.”

“Shut up, asshat.” You mumble, now standing toe to toe. Unable to stop thinking about the bet that you had made a few years earlier, one that neither of you had mentioned since the day he was nominated.

He’s been your best friend for years. You met on the set of his very first movie, while working as a makeup artist and immediately struck up a friendship. And while there has always been an obvious attraction between you both, the fear that making a move and acting on it could potentially ruin your friendship had kept those feelings at bay.

But standing here and seeing the way that he’s looking at you, you can’t hold back, so you don’t. You surge forward and capture his lips, kissing him with the same intensity he had kissed you with earlier this evening, but this time it didn’t have to be fleeting. His mouth swallows your moans and his hands start to roam your body, squeezing and grabbing anywhere they could as he kisses you back.

He carefully pulls down the zipper on the back of your dress, dragging it slowly and savouring every second of this moment, a moment he’s been dreaming of since first laying eyes on you.

“Dieter,” you murmur softly against his jaw, wanting him to increase his painfully slow pace of undressing you. “Please.”

He increases his pace, frantically pulling on the material and letting it pool at your feet, before helping you step out of it and guiding you backwards towards the bedroom. His hands still greedily grabbing at any and every part of you as he lays you down.

He wastes exactly no time, pulling your panties off in one clear sweep and diving his head in between your legs. The noises he makes are loud and desperate as he laps at your clit with a messy intensity. Alternating between licking and sucking your little bud, only satisfied when you’re screaming his name and tugging at his signature messy locks before soaking his face with your arousal.

You whimper his name as he continues to lap at your clit, before gently pushing him away as it gets too much. Giggling slightly at the sight of his soaked face.

“Are you planning on getting undressed?” You ask as he moves up your body.

“Not this round,” he growls, before capturing your lips again. His movements are sloppy as he fumbles with his belt, pulling it through the loops and throwing it across the room, before pulling his pants down enough to expose his cock. You push him back slightly, and lay down in front of him on your tummy, a moan slipping out as you take a good look at his cock. Thick, long and throbbing. The tip flushed red with a bead of pre-cum, you lean forward, push up the bottom of his shirt and pepper light kisses on the swell of his tummy, nipping a few times before taking him in your mouth.

He groans your name as you hollow your cheeks, your jaw immediately aching from the sheer width of him and slowly you start to bob your head. Gagging slightly as he rocks his hips and pushes past your tonsils. The snap of his hips meet the rhythm of your enthusiastic mouth. After a few minutes he groans impatiently at not being able to touch you, before pulling out your mouth leaning over you and slapping your ass and then spreading your cheeks and tasting you this way.

You take him in your hand, stroking and flicking your wrist in perfect strokes, moaning his name in a perfect little chant as he uses his nose to tease your clit. You cum with a yelp of his name, taking you both by surprise as he soothes you through the aftershocks with gentle coos and little flicks of his tongue against your pretty little clit.

“On your back, pretty girl,” he orders, giving himself a few rough strokes as he watches you. “You ready for me, baby?” He says with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“I'm ready,” you confirm with a giggle, yelping with excitement as he pushes into you. Praising your ‘perfect little pussy’ as he fills you to the hilt. His arms swoop beneath your knees, so he can fuck into your deeper. “Move, D,” you beg as he waits, wanting you to adjust to the size of him.

The second you give him permission, he’s rolling his hips back, watching your face intently before snapping them forward. Loving the sound of your pretty moans as he thrusts back into you. He bends over and presses his lips against your face, thrusting himself in and out of you. Finding that spot and dragging his cock against it with ease, loving how reactive and tight your pussy gets around him.

“Oh Dieter,” you whimper, almost delirious with pleasure.

“I know, fuck, I know, baby girl,” he murmurs, “Taking my fat cock so well, baby.” You love how vocal he is, the sound of both of your moans filling the room. “You know how many times I’ve dreamed of this?” He whispers into your ear. “Every fucking day, since I met you.”

“Me too,” you stutter, seconds before your pussy clamps down around him and everything goes black. White hot pleasure erupting behind your eyes and his name becoming the only word you can speak.

It's a pleasure like you’ve never experienced, you feel him everywhere and you still want more and more. He keeps his pace as steady for as long as he can but his hips begin to falter, his pace more stilted as his cock begins to throb and he pulls out.

Stroking his cock hard and fast as he pants your cunt with thick pearly ropes of his cum.

“Holy shit.” You say with a giggle, “Even better than I imagined, D.”

“Me too,” he says as he collapses on top of you, leaning his weight onto his elbows. Kissing you gently, before nuzzling his face into your neck.

“So how was your night?” You ask with a giggle. “End as good as it started.”

“A million times better.” He says quietly.

You giggle loudly, “Better than winning the most coveted award in acting?”

“Not even a competition. You would win every time.”

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