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runningfrom2am · 9 months

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leveling the playing field // epilogue

summary: seven years later.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. this part is quite tame! idk, discussion of the games as a concept is pretty messed up? obviously r & coryo are both delusional but whats new??

a/n: this is it :') thank you all so so so much for all the love on this fic! it means so much to me that you guys enjoyed it! but don't get too sad (like me) bc i am not ready to let them go so i'll probably do like blurbs and stuff ab this series so stick around for those!

series masterlist // playlist

~ seven years later ~

"You've got this, Darling. It's going to be perfect." Coryo insists, kissing your temple as you relentlessly adjust your hair, trying to tame any imaginary flyaways in your flawlessly straightened hair.

"As long as it's not a disaster..." You mumble, giving up on your hair and refocusing on making sure you have all your papers.

Arena map? Check. Tribute and mentors list? Check. Schedule?

"With you in charge, I do not doubt that it will be anything short of flawless. I know you. You wouldn't have it any other way." Your husband assures you, taking your spot in front of the large mirror to adjust his red coat, matching to yours.

You sigh, tucking the large stack of meticulously organized papers into your bag. "I mean, does anyone honestly expect it to be perfect? It's my first games... There's a small margin for error, right?"

"No." Coryo replies sternly, turning to face you. He grabs your chin as you groan, forcing your eyes to meet his. "There's no room for error, but it will be perfect. So don't worry." He plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "And if you need anything, just call."

"Okay..." You hum, smiling as you look up at him. "I'm going to miss you, though." Your smile shifts into a pout, and he kisses your forehead.

"I know. I'll miss having my assistant around, too." He mumbles against the softness of your skin.

Your time working together under Dr. Gaul had been a dream. Why did everything have to change all at once? You've been together every day for years, and you had the most fun helping plan the games and pitching all your ideas to Dr. Gaul, staying up late over ideas due the next morning and too many cups of coffee, giggling over how funny it would be to see a games where the people of the Districts got to vote over who to send in.

"Do you think it's because that's kind of what happened to Lucy Gray?" You giggled in the dark, feeling Coryo's form shift under the blankets next to you before you felt his breath hit the side of your face.

"Now that you mention it..." He laughed quietly. "Yeah, it totally was."

You had always come up with Dr. Gaul's favourite ideas together. But now, she was gone. And it was just you. You honestly thought that woman was some kind of immortal beast, but clearly, no one is fully bulletproof.

She had offered the position of Head Gamemaker to both of you in her will. You and Coriolanus had worked well together, she had always said that about you. That the two of you were her favourite experiment.

"No, Darling. You take it."

"What? No, we've always done everything together." You protest, furrowing your brow. "She's offered it to both of us, we can do whatever we want, no more waiting for her approval. We can run with it! Come on, it'll be so fun, Coryo."

"That's your dream. Not mine." He smiled at you, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

You frowned, focussing yourself on pulling the buttons of his shirt so they were perfectly aligned. "Are... Are you sure? I don't know if I can do it without you."

"You'll never do anything without me, you know that." He hummed, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "If you need help, just ask. I'm right here. Always."

"I'm not an assistant anymore." You laugh. "Technically, you're kind of my assistant now." You shrug, leaning down to pull on your shoes, white with bottoms red to match your coat.

"Okay, well, I wouldn't put it like that..." He laughs, shaking his head at you and holding out a hand to steady you while you adjust yourself to accommodate your heels.

You take it gratefully, standing up and brushing off your coat once more with your free hand. "Be honest, Coryo, do you think the bear is too much? I feel a little like it's cheating, they don't even really have a chance. Do you get what I mean?"

"Darling," He cups your cheeks in his hands. "No one will be able to look away. That's the most important part."

"I just... I want it to be something different. Something people will still want to watch."

"Everyone will be watching." He assures you. "Now, let's get going. You have a big day ahead."

"Yes sir, Mister President."

"My name is Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman, your favourite and only host of the annual Hunger Games on Capitol TV, and I have a very special treat for you all this morning before the beginning of the games." You gently remove your coat as you sit down across from Lucky, holding it out for someone to take before the cameras flit your way, though the live audience can already see you.

"For anyone who lives under a rock, this beautiful woman here with me is our lovely First Lady of Panem, and now, Head Gamemaker, Dr. Y/N Snow." He continues as your coat is taken away, and you smile across at him. "Thank you so much for squeezing us into your very busy schedule. Now, how are you feeling about today, Miss Snow?"

"Doctor is fine." You correct him politely, to which he utters a quick apology. "And I am feeling very good about my first games. Dr. Gaul left some big shoes to fill, but I've been working with her for years so I have some really exciting ideas that I just can't wait for the world to see."

"Yes! I'm certain you do." Lucky grins. "Now, I don't know how much of our audience will remember this, but the first time we met was during the tenth games, I was hosting for the first time and you and your husband were both mentors! Just young academy students with some big dreams, isn't that right?"

You laugh, nodding as he speaks and letting the cheers die down. "Yes, I remember that. All of us were kind of getting a feel for how things would work, and my husband was actually the one who came up with the ideas of betting and sponsorships. He has truly always been such a leader, and so smart. He was the one who asked Dr. Gaul if I could help him with his mentorship, and she agreed, and then she just really loved how well we worked together so she kept us around to study under her all these years. It has been such a fun and kind of... fulfilling journey for us both."

"And now, here you are." He nods at you.

"Here I am." You echo it back to him, waiting for another question.

"Now, we have to address what can only be described as the elephant in the room..." He starts, and you try and hide your confused look as you straighten your posture. If there was some kind of problem you should have been made aware before you set foot on stage. "That summer, after your mentorship. Tell us. What happened? Both of you disappeared off the face of the earth right after your success in the games, then came back with these shiny new internships under Dr. Gaul, how did you swing that?"

"Oh!" You laugh, partially relieved it wasn't about these games, but hesitant because everyone knows better than to bring up the tenth games in any sort of detail. "Well, that was the beginning of our internship with Dr. Gaul, and she wanted us to gain some life experience, so we did some touring of the Districts on our own to get to know the people of Panem better. Neither of us had ever left home before, so it was definitely a unique experience that I think was really good for both of us. It was a super secret thing, for some reason. We weren't even to tell our families."

"I see! Well, I hope you learned everything you sought out to?"

"We did." You nod. "And more."

"Okay, well, with that cleared up, tell us more about the games you have planned for us this year. Is there anything new we should be expecting?"

"Oh, definitely." You nod, smiling wide now that you can once again talk about your games. "But I wouldn't want to spoil anything, so everyone will just have to watch." You shrug.

"I don't know if you are aware of this, Dr. Snow," He leans in a little closer, smile on his face. "But one new thing that we know for sure is changing this year, is that the president, your husband, has made it mandatory to watch the games. Not just here in the Capitol, but everywhere in the Districts as well. He made an announcement just this morning, he wants everyone to see what you've worked so hard for."

"Aw." You blush, pressing your hands to your chest. "That's so sweet! No, I didn't know that." The audience eats up your reaction, and you try to keep your eyes on him instead of acknowledging all the clapping and shouts from below you.

"Well, that's just about the cutest surprise! He has a lot of confidence in you." He laughs, reaching over and patting your leg. "You've all heard it here, he's just as good a husband as he is a president!"

"It's true." You agree, hardly audible over the crowds enthusiasm.

"Speaking of your husband..." He says, turning back to look into the wing of the stage and nodding at someone. "He set us up with a little surprise for you, if you don't mind."

"Oh, please." You laugh, covering your face as your cheeks heat up. "Of course he did." You shake your head, whistles from the audience not helping your blush.

"Okay, you can look now. Don't hide!" Lucky laughs, and you lower your hands from in front of your face to be presented with a bouquet of white and red roses. It wasn't an extravagant gift from him, the amount of roses he has gifted to you since your return from Twelve together is astronomical by now, but it's a gesture you cherish nonetheless. You smile as you take them.

"Beautiful, as always." You grin, making a point of smelling them before handing them back to the assistant who's waiting with a vase for them.

"And we have one more thing here, I believe..." He hums, looking back again while you're distracted passing off the wrapped flowers.

When you turn back to look at him you gasp, hands flying up to cover your mouth, fearless of whether or not you would smudge your lipstick. "Is that for me?" You ask, voice higher in octave from the excitement as one of the stagehands walks out with a small dog, fur dyed a soft shade of red with a matching bow around its neck.

"Indeed it is!" Lucky laughs as you're handed the puppy.

"Oh my god..." You smile, tears brimming in your eyes. "Hi there..."

"I think there's a note for you there too..." Lucky urges you and you grab the tag tied onto the bow. "Mind reading it for us?" He says, holding his handkerchief out to you.

"Thank you," You laugh, dabbing under your eyes with your free hand. "A new assistant to match your shoes." You read, laughing at the inside joke.

Everyone laughs, and you get from Lucky's confused expression that you should explain. "Uh, working under Dr. Gaul we would always joke that he was my assistant and vice versa." You laugh, wiping your eyes again before you continue. "I am so proud of you. Finally, the world will see you as I do. Intelligent, strong, and beautiful. Unstoppable. That's why I love you, you're as pure as the driven Snow."

The audience awe's, but you know none of them get it the way you do. "Another inside joke." You nod at Lucky, trying to hold back from crying so much you turn into a mess.

"I stand corrected. That is the cutest surprise." He points to the dog in your lap. "Both literally and figuratively."

"I don't know what I'll do with it." You laugh, shaking your head as the puppy jumps up against your chest, trying to lick your face.

"How about a name, to start?" Lucky prompts you.

"Oh, gosh. Well..." You giggle, lifting it and setting it back down so it will sit in your lap. It's so small, hardly bigger than your hands. It'll likely never grow larger than your lap. It's perfect. "What about Lucky?" You tease.

"Oh, you flatter me, Y/N. Come on, something better."

"I don't know!" You laugh. "I'm not good at naming... things."

Lucky laughs. "Our Head Gamemaker with no ideas? That seems unlikely."

"Okay, okay. You're just putting me on the spot here, I'm a little nervous." You laugh, stroking over the dog's head. "I tell you what, before the games begin this morning I'll come up with twelve names, assign them randomly to the districts, then whoever shall win the games will determine the name of my dog. Does that sound fair?"

"Ah! That's brilliant!" Lucky laughs, clapping his hands together. "And that's a good incentive for anyone who hasn't yet placed their bets or sent in donations for the tributes! Your donation may just be what gives the First Lady's dog its name. How fun!"

"It'll be interesting." You giggle, looking down at the puppy in your lap. It must have been white before the dye, it took so well. Maybe it will fade into a pink before it grows out its natural white fur- you wouldn't want it to stay red forever, but for show, it was perfect.

"Now, we really shouldn't be taking up any more of your time. You have a busy day ahead!" Lucky says and you nod in agreement, standing up and carefully tucking the small dog under your arm. "Thank you for making time for us, I know I'm looking forward to seeing what you have in store for us."

"Thank you. I really hope you all enjoy the games!" You smile, holding out a hand for him to shake which he takes quickly, then allowing you to walk off the stage.

As predicted by a certain Mister President; Coriolanus Snow, your first games as Head Gamemaker went without a hitch. They were perfect in every way. Capitol citizens were buzzing- not just about the games, the mutts you incorporated into the newly decorated arena, or the most shocking kills, but also about your dog. The people loved her, and so did you. She hardly ever left your lap or your side for the duration of the games, which only lasted a matter of days.

The party your husband threw for you at the presidential palace, your home, at the end of the games was extravagant. Coryo couldn't help but broadcast his pride to all of the Capitol. He loved you; you were his, and he needed everyone to know. Not a soul in all the world was anywhere close to being on your level, and shaping you into the perfect wife and First Lady was what Coriolanus Snow considered his greatest achievement. As you stood next to him, his palm tucked neatly against your lower back, you were perfect. More perfect than you were the day you fought for a spot in the mentorships that he granted you, more perfect than the he first time he kissed you, and more perfect than both of the days he had killed someone for you. Without question, he would do it all again if it meant he would get to hold you even just one more time.

"I'm so proud of you, Love." He gently rubs your back, looking down at you while you overlook your garden from the patio off of your bedroom.

You smile, standing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Snow lands on top." You whisper, biting your lip when you see a shift behind his eyes.

"You bet we do." He hums with a smug smile, lifting you up and carrying you back inside.

And somewhere, thousands of miles away in the Northern shambles of a still recovering District Thirteen, while you and your husband are celebrating, Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray Baird share knowing, sorrowful glances when it's announced on the crackling radio that the winner of the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games was a boy from District Two, and because of this, the First Lady of Panem's dog shall be called Sage.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

taglist is closed for coryo unfortunately, but my requests for him are open!! so send me all your suggestions!! requests here!!

#tbosas #coriolanus snow #hunger games #tbosas x reader #tbosas fic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo x reader #coryo snow

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moondirti · 2 years

Text

give peace a chance

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep.

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 3.4k summary: you’re always there, waiting on him warnings: size kink, blowjobs, facefucking, thigh riding, masturbation, squirting, angst, brief mentions of death, canon typical violence, mild mild gore, fluff notes: had 'Yes to Heaven' by lana del rey on loop while writing this one. out of body experience fr. anyway, i finally gave in and wrote for the boogey man. he's been occupying too much headspace for me to not.

You don’t hear him come in.

Crisp, white sheets gather in a knot at your midsection – previously pristine, wrinkles pull at its surface now. You can’t sleep, but that’s most nights.

Your curtains dance with an incoming drift, lazy gauze, sheer in the cresting moonlight. If you weren’t so absorbed in the white noise of your whirring fan, you could catch the quiet click of your backdoor. You always leave it open, just in case; people know not to dare take advantage of the liberties you exhibit. There’s the invisible threat, protection, of a shadowed mercenary over your toytown home.

His missions are incalculable. That’s the one thing he cannot promise you. Come back soon, you beg, but he leaves you with a silent kiss and nothing else.

There were once days where you’d tag along. Your chest twinges at the uncomfortable reminder. Cracked bone, spilt ichor; the bullet had barely missed your heart, lodged between the throbbing organ and a major vessel. He’d raged to get you decommissioned, incensed demands – they’d never seen him as angry.

Carpet flattens under your bare feet as you crawl out of bed, soft, like all things here. You hadn’t the luxury of comfort before, when Simon was Ghost and you were a rookie under him, but he’d granted you a life you sought only in your dreams. The first few days in paradise, you were torn over appreciation and resentment at the act, bandages wrapped around your chest – but you’d healed and found the irreversible damage etched into the hard plate of your clavicle – a rounded, discoloured scar.

You’re glad you’d left that life behind.

Padding out to the kitchen, you pour yourself a drink. The cupboard underneath your sink contains only bourbon – blended, straight, kentucky – so you fish out juice from your fridge. It’s sickly sweet, all natural sugars, your ass.

“Shouldn’t drink that stuff.” A voice cuts the tranquillity, rugged and choppy on harsh consonants – a cockney accent. You soothe the alarmed surprise racing in your gut, a gentle smile turning your cheeks.

His eyes pierce back at you, a smudge of white against an otherwise charcoal canvas. He’s sitting at the dining table, just across your kitchen island, his massive form illuminated by the warm light you’d turned on. You don’t know how you missed him, but then again, the man lives up to his name. Ghost; creeping up like the dead.

“We’re all out of milk.” You respond, your tease lilting to an affectionate whisper when it hits your tongue. Simon scoffs. “Not like whiskey’s any better.”

You pour him a glass regardless.

He’s still equipped in his tactical gear, his gun set on the chair next to him. It adds unnecessary bulk, layers on layers of insulation, conservation – impossibly, he looks bigger like this. Larger than life. Your hands run along the coarse material of his bullet proof vest; you think you can feel his muscles tense, despite the surfaces separating you. But he takes the bourbon with little fuss, wrapping a strong arm around your legs so your knees knock the side of his thigh.

“Hi,” You giggle, beaming down at him.

“Hey.” He mocks, setting the drink down.

His hard-shell mask conceals any tells you may glean. In just the balaclava, you can catch the shape of his lips, the curve of his nose, when he smiles – the painted fabric pulls taut over his features. But a skull stares back at you, and all you have are his eyes, framed with ashen lashes. They’re only enough to tell you one thing; he’s happy to be home.

You love the way they catch the light, a subtle glimmer in them.

For a while, the two of you just stand there, revelling in the weighted company of one another. His gloved hand presses circles into your flesh, just under the hem of your sleeping shorts, while yours find every bit of exposed skin you can. There’s not much – just the small stretch of neck you can reach, tucked behind his collar before the rest of him disappears. But you find it with reverence, smoothing over it, his heated body slowly easing by the minute under your ministrations. Some part of you realises the desperation you observe him with, the hurried glances at his back, his stomach, his legs. You look for darkened, sticky fabric. You look for blood.

You don’t have the courage to speak your fears into fruition.

Simon slowly begins to pull the heavier parts of his armour off. The night vision goggles on his head, the packets of ammo stuffed into available pockets. You move to help him, humming, shifting as you unbuckle the back of his plate carrier. His groans are wicked, deep waves of relief stemming from somewhere in his chest, and you hide the blush that arises at the sound, throwing the layer into an unknown corner. You remember the soreness, the knotted shoulders from days in the same kit, your spine in aching need of a good long stretch. You make a mental note to rub his back later.

You take off his gloves. There’s little give – they’re crusted in dried gore and gunpowder, the bones on their front almost entirely camouflaged. A sharp tug is what it takes to peel them off his hands. But then his skin is bared to you. You survey the grit that dusts the contours of his veins. Dirt has sunk through the fibres.

When he’s left in just his mask and underclothes, he finally slumps, posture altering from that of a soldier’s to one of a tired man. His legs spread, thick thighs filling his pants, and he reaches for his drink again, lifting the bottom of his mask and balaclava to take a large gulp. His newly revealed Adam's apple bobs with the motion.

“How many men?” You speak into the space. He pauses, his pink lips pursing at the brim of his glass. You have half a mind to regret asking, but you do this for your own solace.

“Jus’ three.” Just. To anyone else, he may sound indifferent, his tone etched in that low timbre, unwavering with the grief over lost comrades. To you, you know that his pain is cavernous, a bottomless chasm he’ll undoubtedly return to. Indicatively, he pulls his mask back down over his face. It isn’t just three men. It’s three too many – but it’s on the lower end of the casualties the 141 usually faces.

You wait for him to say the words you’re looking for.

“They’re alright.”

You nod. Al Bravo team was not amongst the fatalities. Gaz. Price. Soap. You cling onto the reassurance of your friends’ continued survival, a buoy until the next raging storm.

Simon’s hand returns to its place on your leg, tracing long lines along the back of it. You shiver, suppressing the heat that spreads up your tummy like wildfire. His steel gaze is indecipherable as he looks up at you; your emotions flit across your face erratically. You wish he’d take the mask off, get on even footing with you, but it takes a while for him to come down from his missions. For as long as he’s racked with enduring adrenaline, he’ll keep his guard up.

He’s surrounded by the safe walls of your – his – home, but he’s in over his head.

You bow down, placing a gentle kiss on the curve of his jaw. The arm wrapped around you draws you closer.

He smells like saltpetre, guncotton, hints of kerosene floating in the air between you. You push your face nearer to his, and you’re able to catch a faint whiff of his aftershave, traces of the cleanliness and cologne he leaves behind here, with you. You open your mouth to comment on it; he beats you to your cause:

“Lovely girl.” He squeezes the flesh on your upper thigh – not quite your ass, but almost.

“Mmm, Simon.” You start, capturing his eyes. They bear down on you with an intensity that makes your core ache. “Y’Can’t keep doing this to me.”

You imagine he’s smirking when he retaliates. “Can say the same for you, expectin’ me to focus out there when you look this good.” Like a giddy schoolgirl, you bite your lip at his compliment.

Stirring to kiss his jaw again, you slowly start to unzip his windbreaker. Your fingers span the front of the black hoodie underneath, tracing the hard plane of his chest, feeling it rumble with a noiseless groan. His legs spread wider. You catch a telling bulge in your peripheral.

“Need help?” You murmur, purring when he slips underneath your shorts to give your rear a feel. His callouses dig into you.

“Need you.” He says.

The hand that was on his chest inches downward now, your nails raking along. You give a half-suppressed laugh as his abdomen tightens, bracing against your ticklish assault. You want to feel it bare – to extricate the exhaustion from an uncovered torso and watch as his muscles roll, solid brawn unravelling with the slightest touch. But you’ll settle on this, you know he needs it. His mask does unspeakable things to you, anyway.

“Relax.” You encourage with a breath. Simon doesn’t listen; he still kneads your flesh with an unforgiving grip. His thumb brushes close to the soaked patch on your panties – with the appreciative grunt he gives, you know he senses the arousal emanating from you.

His cock strains his pants, taking up all the space it can. You coo, poor thing, as you cup the underside of it. He gives you a reproaching spank, and your hips buck in tandem to his. As you do, you realise now how uncomfortable of a position you’re in – your neck cramps in this angle. Really, it’s a silly thing to be hung up about, but Simon must read the subtle cringe you give, for he urges you to kneel, guiding you by your head to crawl in between his open legs.

You’re halfway under the table when you look up at him again, cheek pressed adoringly against his knee. He’s seemingly content like this, petting round your forehead to the ridge of your chin. His palm is large, dry, warm. You quickly lose trajectory as he caresses you, all droopy eyes and small smiles.

He catches when you rub your legs together, chasing a friction that will never amount to him. You can never escape his scrutiny; Simon captures everything.

He pats your cheek and pinches it before his touch leaves you. Newly awake, you perk up, perching on your haunches to lean further into him. You’re always eager, but his chuckle at your barely concealed anticipation beckons a stone to lodge itself in your throat. It’s a ball of desire, denser than most things, snowballing with every passing moment in his presence. You’re tuned in on him, rapt to every subtle thing – the deep exhales, the anchoring of his boots to hardwood floors. It’s take, take, take, an absorption of anything he’s willing to give. It tends to be like this after he comes back – was like this back on the base, when you’d known nothing but his moniker and callsign.

You recall rubbing one out to the staticky crackle of his voice over the channel, your headset pressed tight to your ears. You’d never told him that; you figure now’s a good time as any.

“Used to fantasise about you, y’know.” You sigh, ironing over his calves. You move your brushes to his hulking thighs when he begins to undo his pants, wetting your lips.

His next exhale is torn, steadiness ripped to shreds by your less-than seductive words. “Oh yeah?” He remarks, scooping into his boxers to pull his heavy cock out. “What about?”

It springs free just then, angry head flushed a deep red, blood supplied by pulsing veins that branch to the top. You keen at the precum that beads at the top, rushing to catch it with your index to slip it onto your tongue. He says nothing, merely contemplating as you wriggle with the heady taste of him.

“This,” You add after a long moment, before licking a long, wet stripe up the base of his dick. His whole body jerks unexpectedly, and he grabs onto your head to steady your impatient efforts.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

“Gone soft on me? I see.” Chortling, you play with his tip, batting it back and forth to tap your lips. He is anything but soft – regrettably, though, the rise you get from teasing him is too great to pass up.

“Shut it, pet, before I turn your insides over.” He urges you forward once he’s settled. You don’t tell him how much you’d really like him to. In due time.

Your lips wrap around the bulbous head, sides stretching to accommodate his girth. You’re familiar with the drill by now; hollow your cheeks, keep your jaw nice and loose. Use some teeth, he chokes at the pain.

His skin moves with you as you sink down , rolling your tongue over the ridges that cross your path. Your breath is hot, your mouth even hotter – sweltering, you suck him in and coat his rock-hard with a film of saliva, which aids you when you bob back up. You can’t reach the root of him, not yet – he’s way too big – so your hand wraps around the length not in your mouth.

“That’s it.” Simon rasps, now pushing you down in support. Your hum is lost in the lewd slurps, but he twitches with the vibrations it produces. A glob of drool leaks from you, seeping down to gather in his scruffy curls – you use it as slick to twist your wrist around his base.

He’s ripe with the salty taste of sweat and precum, a dizzying combination – you hope you’re subtle as you slip your free hand down your pants, pressing up into the plush of your cunt. You find where you’re most sensitive, a tight bundle of nerves, and touch yourself, all the while savouring the masculinity that engulfs you – his muscled thighs by your ears, his giant hands pressing down on your head.

A particularly loud groan sounds from above. You triple your efforts, delighted at your part in helping him unwind. At one point, his added pressure pushes you down all the way. You gag, blubbering with choked gasps, but your lips stay sealed around him, an unforgiving vacuum. His happy trail scratches your nose,

“Gonna cum, you lovely thing. Righ’ down your throat. Take it all, understand?” He asks. You’re able to discern the wobble in his abrasive voice – his balls spasm at your lips, ready to erupt at any moment. You nod, gaping at him earnestly, with wide, watery eyes. His own soften, downturning at the corners. “‘Atta girl.”

With the hazy memory of his face before he’d left, you can draw an abstraction of what he might look like right now. You trick yourself into thinking he’s smiling down at you. Gentle, caring.

You don’t have to try as hard to believe it.

Your fingers work fervently over your sopping cunt, slipping between velvet folds. Your exertion, combined with his pure fucking magnetism, is almost enough to tip you over the edge. A cluster in your gut stiffens, grows, upends. You stroke yourself impossibly faster.

Simon curls inward, his mask now directly above you. A bit of his cock drags from your mouth – your bottom teeth scrape a vein in consequence. He jolts. Then, rich, long ropes of cum shoot into your awaiting mouth, painting you with musky white. You keep jerking him as he does, urging more, more, more, milking him to spill his all into you.

A tap of your shoulder is all the evidence you need to pull off him with a pop. You didn’t cum, it doesn’t matter, you hardly feel the mounting desperation amidst the grand scheme of things. Simon’s back hits the chair, his head tilting as he takes you in.

“C’mere,” He grunts, pushing backwards to allow you space to stand. You oblige, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand – it only serves to smear the mess across your cheek. Your back brushes the table – he beckons you closer – until your bruised knees hit the edge of the chair.

When he’s satisfied, his hands run up your sides, starting at your arms, then downward, so they can hook into the waistband of your shorts. You lock onto his all-consuming stare, dark with an unspoken question, his pupils blown wide with lingering lust.

“Go ahead.” You coax.

He nods and pulls your shorts off with one, swift movement.

Cold air meets soaked cotton – you tremble, whether with goosebumps or the weight of his study, you don’t know. You’re the farthest thing from a blushing virgin, but Simon manages to propel you back into that bashful headspace. Every time with him is ruthless – stifling broken sobs while adjusting to his width, utter pleasure and the smallest bit of pain.

Perhaps you’ll forgo that this time around. He’s quickly softening against his pelvis. You understand – stamina tends to dissipate after holding out for so long. Though he’s anything but a selfish lover.

He guides you to straddle his thigh.

You squirm, hip flexors burning with the strain of splitting over the breadth of him. He keeps you steady with his hands on your waist – you clutch onto his wrists. His sleeves have rucked up to reveal his tattooed forearm. You trace the ink, reverent, requiring as much skin-to-skin as possible. It flees the fastest, that sensation, running up behind him when he exits the door. The bruises, the bites, the cramp from hitting your cervix one too many times, on the other hand – they all endure, keeping you sated long enough so that you aren’t compelled to rejoin him. He might do that on purpose, in fact.

Your clit folds as it meets his leg – a new surge of slick spills from you.

“A-Ah! Simon, y–”

“I know, pet. Jus’ ride me, yeah, like that.”

Your bottom half ruts into him, finding purchase on the solid surface of his thigh. Your panties slide, preventing the potential for divine friction, so you push them to the side, wedging it in the crevice of a lip and your pubic bone. You stutter apologies to Simon for the mess – your natural lubricant smears onto his cargo pants, sullying the fabric. He assures that he’ll wear it proudly. You’re a prouder medal than blood.

You’re whimpering now, wailing about everything and nothing all at once with your face tucked into his neck. He embraces you – sturdiness forcing you to stunt your movements to short, hurried grinds – and says nothing.

Something terrifying begins to burn in you; promising a cataclysm. It’s him. His scent, his strength, his size, his presence. I missed you. I missed you. Your impending orgasm crawls up the tendons in your pelvis, seeping into bone and flooding like a high tide. Your pants grow shallower. Your lungs feel cramped. Something about this, here, with him, lights every synapse in you, flashing bright with colours and promises and safety. I miss you.

“I miss you,” You finally gasp, broken as you peer up at him. He stills – you keep your pace. Sweat beads at your temple.

He slowly removes the mask.

The balaclava follows soon after.

Simon then bows down, pressing his lips to your furrowed brow.

And then, everything in you compresses, fierce and tight. You wind your fingers into his hair, pulling his head back to bite the column of his neck. You do it to muffle the sob that bubbles when you erupt in searing agony atop him, back arching, toes curling. Your body goes completely rigid.

He groans with the cut of your teeth, and your cunt pulsates again, spilling down on him, your fluids draining to double your mark on the man.

“Missed you too.” Simon rustles in response. You seize his mouth with yours, uncaring for how messy it is. It’s what you need; to feel your teeth knock, to bind yourself to him.

You kiss in him the intent to never let you go. You know it won’t last, but for now, it’s enough.

permanent taglist: @saintbedelia @tusk89 @cactuswaterscactusfields @lexloon

since i've only written for star wars previously, if you're on this list and want to be moved to a character specific one instead, i've added the option on my form!

join my taglist!

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tenelkadjowrites · 4 months

Text

i've been putting off making a formal announcement on this blog but i think i've reached a point where i can say the blog as everyone knows it is...done. the hiatus has turned into a retirement of sorts.

basically, going forward, there is no promise of any fics being posted, no more tag lists, no more icon/header changes for a hwa fic, etc. fics can be posted randomly and not just be focused on hwa, it'll be about whatever catches my attention and i want to write a fic on. this could mean months upon months with no update. it could mean i never update again. idk i am not really focusing on it.

so yeah, thats the short version. longer version under the cut.

the thing about running this blog is that over time it ended up being whatever idea i had needed to be tweaked in order to feel comfortable post it here. that could be trying to put smut scenes in, or thinking about the dynamic and how it would come across to an audience, or if i went too long without posting and it would weigh on me.

after my move to toronto, i hit burn out with the blog. i missed writing original works, and i missed the genre exploration i liked to do with original pieces such as horror. i dealt with a sort of nagging guilt if i didn't post on here for long periods of time and i felt like if i kept pushing against how my brain was going, the fics posted here would suffer in quality.

ppl who have read this far know that i don't pay attention to the amount of notes i get on my fics. i write the ideas because i want to write them. that's been my rule and once i got the sense i was writing for the blog and not writing cuz i wanted to, i realized i needed to step away from it.

so going forward, the only time this blog will be updated is if i got a story idea that naturally and organically was planned as a fic in my head. this could mean no more hwa fics ever again. it could mean fics about random video game characters. it could mean more star wars fics. or it could mean i don't update for a really long time. i don't know what form it will take. i'm not really focusing on that.

while this blog was my primary focus, i met a lot of amazing people and ended up meeting people that now mean so much to me. i had tons of nice messages sent to me. i never thought i'd get 3k followers here and that wasn't my goal, it just ended up happening.

if you read all this, thanks, and thank you to everyone who took the time to read anything i posted, it means a lot. i'll be at the toronto ateez show if anyone wants to say hi.

my main blog is @hologramhoneymoon - you can follow me there for a lot of random reblogs from a lot of random things.

#announcement #in my jerma retirement era

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visionsofmagic · 2 years

Text

“four times” | simon “ghost” riley [m]

masterlist.

⋆ pairing: simon “ghost” riley [cod: mwII] x f!reader

⋆ summary: four times you think about how simon ghost riley will fuck you and one time he actually does.

⋆ wc: 6.7k

⋆ warnings&tags: nsfw, explicit language, flirting, daydreaming/dreaming, mentions of fantasy & kinks, rough!ghost who becomes soft for some time in odd circumstances, f!reader, kissing, licking, biting, oral > f receiving, cums, cursing, superior!ghost, touching, putting one's head down, dirty talk, pet names such as doll, handcuffing, safe word, reader is kind of like a brat, sinsful/unholy things, mentions of love, fluff, a little emotional, jealousy, events happens in a safe zone like a dom. remind me if I missed something. enjoy!

it was not the first time you imagined about it but it was certainly the one you went further 'till it made you stood where you were, looking at the lieutenant's face shamelessly without your control and keeping dreaming about how he would fuck you.

you couldn't tell what made you think such a thing since he was your superior who you should look at a co-worker but it all changed when you joined to the team and got closer with each one of them, especially with ghost who you has spent so much nights in the field now.

in these nights, you shared so many things, mostly you but ghost became more comfortable around you enough to let you tease him. it was a great development for your relationship. he wasn't like soap at all and for you, no men could be like him. mystery he had alongside his own persona was pulling you to him dangerously.

maybe, that was the reason why you felt this way about him; wanting him to ruin you from head to toe.

so, it wasn't a surprising thing when you sat down on the couch, watching ghost and soap organizing and planning how to enter the building secretly.

comparing to others, his body was massive and it began with it.

your mind studied how he could easily carry you. he could move your without any effort onto a higher level and he even could hold you by your ass, raising your body up, caging it between his massive body and a wall, hugging you from the waist and ass.

with the stamina he had on field, he clearly could go for some rounds like that, not putting you down while fucking you like that. you imagined how he would make you undress before fucking you from head to toe but keeping all of his suit on which would make you feel the fabric of his clothes on your skin.

he definitely would talk dirty, explicitly. he had no shame in that situations as you guessed.

as you kept dreaming him fucking you from behind while holding you up only leaving your tips touching the ground as your head hit the wall rapidly. all naked, sweat all over and screaming his name again and agai -

"y/n?" a deep voice you loved to hear said, taking you from your nasty dreams into reality with a blushed face. "are you okay?"

you nodded to your lieutenant. "sorry, sir," you said. "I was thinking about something. what were you saying?"

his eyes that was only visible thing from masked covered face kept looking at you, so, it was soap who answered your question, pointing out the map of the building. "can you stay in here for the mission?"

looking at ghost one last time, you turned to soap and began to talk about the mission while you continued to feel ghost's heavy eyes on you from time to time.

second time was when you were standing on the building with ghost beside you, lying down on the ground on your stomachs, adjusting the snipers in front of you.

lieutenant was looking directly at the high building while you were looking at him from the corner of your eyes.

he had a good physics - a good built body thanks to exercises he was doing all the time. so, while he was lying like this, you could see strong muscles on his back that were visible than before. his arms were covered in black fabric, pointing out his muscular arms under the fabric. you wanted to touch them because your palms aching to feel his muscles under your skin, caressing them slowly while he took all you give him.

while looking at his body, your naughty side took control once again, making you have unholy thoughts about the way his arms could hold your thighs in place while he is standing on his knees right in front of you, his masked curled up only leaving his lips in display to your eyes and some wetness on his lips which you saw twice thanks to having same lunch time. wetness coming out of your bared pussy in front of his face, eating you alive while you hold his shoulders and arms on your thighs that are exposed because of the shortness of night dress you were wearing.

having him between your thighs, seeing him licking, biting and eating your pussy as you only leave moans of his name and how good he is making you was a dream in your head in that moment when a hand waved towards your direction – a hand of no one’s but ghost whose eyes filled with concern and confused looking.

“what are you thinking?” he asked, angry a little bit and you knew damn well why he was angry; the mission was about to start and you were dozing off, giving you danger and ghost probably began to think whether you were ready for the mission or not.

but you took a defensive and determined manner, shaking your head with your hands in sync. “I just got an idea is all, don’t worry, sir, I am ready for the mission.”

his eyes traveled from your face to your lower parts and to your face again and making you flush more in redness. “how copy?” he asked, bossy as ever, deepness in his voice.

“positive, sir.”

“good.” he said, nodding, believing you. “don’t make me carry you from the field, y/n. it is the last thing I want to.”

“don’t you worry, simon.” you smiled, feeling closer thanks to him calling you with your name so intensely. “I am good at this.”

third time came sooner than you expected it to be.

the mission was done perfectly, no blood dropped, no one got harmed, the information they had got back from them secretly, not alerting anyone in the building while you and soap stayed in the field and ghost on the rooftop, giving you information and calmness through the mission, especially to you.

after it was done, the team took different cars to go back into the place you were staying at. you were the one who left behind with just one car because you decided to wait for ghost to reach you, leaving the rooftop. it was a habit you had after a dangerous mission you and ghost had in previous times. it began to be more natural each time and no one questioned it, not even you and simon, it was an unspoken and calming gesture you both shared.

while keeping silence, you enter the back of black truck. you took the chair in front of simon because there were no one in the truck expect you to and you believed it would be strange to sit beside him when there were all empty spaces. this was the first mistake you did.

you realized it when simon put down his sniper on the ground when car began to move, driver staying behind the closed black mirror, not giving any sight of you two to him. then, simon put his head to the surface of truck, looking at you with his dark colored eyes – they looked darker than before because of gloomy white lights of the car. they looked at you so intensely that you moved in awkwardness, but not breaking eye contact but it was hard to keep, especially when he opened his legs wider, manspreading, showing off his powerful thighs seamlessly enough to make your face turn into a redness.

he looked damn well with the way he was sitting that your knees began to weaken, ready to shake any moment.

it was so hard not to imagine how could you easily stay on your knees, between his thick thighs, all of his armor on, only half of his face smirking down at you while you took his exposed cock deep inside your mouth, beginning for more and more for him to fuck it roughly, his hands on your hair, caressing gently and roughly at the same time to mess with your already dumb head.

you could guess you would hold his thighs with a strong grip, not wanting to fall onto the ground because of shaking legs he would give to you.

“y/n,” simon said, sounding half ghost who is your lieutenant and half simon who is your friend or crush if you would be honest to yourself. when you looked up to his face, you realized how you were staring at his thighs and well, that particular thing covered but a little visible to eyes. you knew damn well that he caught your staring and the heat raised inside you while you waited him to continue. but he said something you didn’t expect, “you did so well in the field.” he smirked, and you could tell that without even seeing his lips.

“good girl.”

it was the fourth time in which you actually took an action while dreaming about it because there was a free time to do whatever you want to do and it was right after the exercise day you shared with ghost and soap together to have fun and useless moment.

flashback

it was an idea coming out from soap, suggesting to share exercise hours while playing a game; the winner in each exercise would ask a question to others – the questions that could be anything including explicit ones to add some spicy to the game as soap said while smiling. thanks to the times you three spent, you knew very well what kinds of question he would ask.

it sounded fun and you nodded, and simon too who you tried not to look at for long times since he was wearing a black t-shirt, leaving his arms exposed and upper body covered with the skinny fabric of it. also he had black cargo pants on. he looked breath taking and you wanted to remove his mask and see his face.

then, it all began; first winner of exercise was soap thanks to the energy he had which would fade away slowly as you guessed. he had no shame and that’s why, he asked a very expected question; which position you like the most.

you rolled your eyes, punching him on the shoulder, “what an unexpected question you asked soap.” however, your calm manner changed when a deep voice came from your behind.

“can’t choose.”

he was standing right behind you as his bigger body swallowed yours. looking back to his face, covered with mask, you blushed. and when he looked down at you with dark colored eyes of his you loved to look at, you turned to soap suddenly who was smirking at simon’s answer.

“how about you, y/n?” soap asked, giving time for you to be comfortable to answer. he added when you stayed silent. “it’s just a game. don’t worry, little one.”

you tried to look confident and while simon’s piercing eyes were opening holes in your back, you shrugged, “classic ones, I guess.”

“classic ones?” soap chuckled, caressing your hair with a friendly manner, “I expected you to have – well, more colorful things than that.”

rolling your eyes, you tried to joke to calm the air down since all you could think simon’s presence and answer – can’t choose, was the thing he said, so, he loved every position. you wondered how many positions he experienced with others and that made your blood boil without your control.

with raising heat and anger on your body, you said to them, feeling sick, “enough with the game. I want to take a shower. you two go on.”

as you made your way you could feel the gazes simon gave to you; confused ones while soap shouted childishly, “but it just started!”

and here you were, sitting on your bed after a fresh shower which helped you to calm down and getting away with the ideas of simon with someone else. jealousy and anger were the things you shouldn’t have since you were being just a brat who had a crush on him. that was all. nothing more.

but when you remembered his answer, your brain began to act on its own; thinking every position simon would fuck you with.

and when it stopped on your favorite on, the doggystyle, not the one you told to soap, your mind blew up, making your hands work on your clit that saught attention.

it was all dizzy now; you lying down on the bed, one of your hands on your breast while the other one playing with your folds, heavy and pitched breaths coming out of your parted mouth, your white night dress on your body, exposing your breasts alongside with your pussy and thighs.

it was passing midnight and no one were in your floor; soap and simon went outside as soap informed you, captain price and gaz were visiting some important individuals who were friends of captain, so, you were all alone – all alone to do what you wanted to for such a long time; thinking about the lieutenant – his hands, thighs, arms, massive body entirely and especially his cock while having your own pleasure with quilt because he was your superior, boss even, and on the other hand, he was your friend. if only he knew you were lying down on the bed and began to moan his name lowly but since there wasn’t any sound in the floor, it sounded so high for your ears.

when you were about to reach climax, the door knocked, taking you away from your naughty dreams.

with a dizzy mind and annoyed because of not reaching your climax, ache on the stomach, you got up, not minding putting something on to your messy night dress, you just stood behind the door, opening the lock, then the door only to see the mask of ghost, standing with all his glory behind the door with a black hoodie and light blue jeans on. he looked attractive and hot as always. you didn’t know how you could fall for someone without seeing his face but it was the power of simon. you fell for the man for only him, not for his face or position – only for him.

“s-simon?” you asked in surprise because he was the last one you expected to stay behind your door in such hour, especially since he was out with soap doing god knows what.

without saying anything, he just nodded towards the room, asking for a permission to enter.

giving him space to enter the room, you realized which dress you were wearing but it was all too late and simon’s eyes were already on your body, looking at it from corner of his eyes even though you could feel its burning effect, making your cheeks burn and remember what you were doing before he knocked the door.

cursing inside your head, you put your arms around your body with a calm movement, like you weren’t minding being like this in front of your crush – who you were having unholy thoughts recently, you asked, “is there something important, sir? I thought you and soap were outside for fun.”

“yeah?” simon asked in a low tone, making you shiver thanks to deepness of his sound – sounding more than ghost on the field than simon but there was also hints of simon still. “it wasn’t fun.” he added, slowly approaching you, putting a hand on the door, right beside your head, making your back touch door’s surface due to sudden closeness. he caged your body between his and the door. it was hard to breath normally.

“s-sir?”

“I was simon for a second there and now, I am the ‘sir’?” was he doing this on purpose? – the deepness and lustful his sound was making, eyes behind the mask that were only visible thing on his face and closeness. it was different than before.

“would you like me to call you with your name, sir?” you asked, shy as ever but trying to show confidence.

“no,” he shrugged, slowly, looking at your lips for a second for enough for you to catch it and become breathless. “call me whatever you like.”

you tried to chuckle, getting out of his hold, walking toward your bed without looking him back. “is this a joke that soap suggested?” you smiled again, a nervous one because what he was trying to do now was bad news to you; he was giving you a power he shouldn’t – power of being so fucking close to him. “it is not funny.”

you sat down on the bed, arms on your chest still, but the skirt of dress raised up, showing your little exposed thighs to him which you didn’t mind since the topic was different than simply your dress.

ghost leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, making them getting tight through the fabric of hoodie. he also crossed his legs, looking so tall, giving you a sense of being weaker and smaller than him but this only made your stomach twist in excitement. the whole air was heavy and filled with lust.

“am I looking dumb to you?” he asked, sounding calm even though the question was – odd.

“huh?” you asked, confused. “no, sir, of course not.”

“then why you are acting like I am?” he didn’t wait for you to reply, instead, he got straighten and started walking towards you. you held your breaths ‘till he stood right in front of you, making you look up to see his face, then, he put his two hands on the bed, caging you in here too.

his nose were touching yours from time to time. you couldn’t remember the last time you felt hot, dizzy and excited.

“thinking I would not notice that gazes you gave me, hm, is that the deal, y/n?” he asked, “I can see though your skull, I can smell raising heat coming from it. standing there, dreaming about me.” his right hand found your left cheek, caressing it slowly, “tell me, doll, how many night you thought about me while touching yourself – like this one.” his mouth reached your ear and you could feel his warm breaths even through the mask, “how many times you moaned my name?”

your mind wasn’t there, no, it was all gone but still, you tried to protest, “s-sir, you are mistaking, I –“

“mistaking? oh,” he straightened up, his massive posture shining with the moon’s dim lights coming from windows. “then, I heard wrong it, maybe, you tried to moan another man’s name, is that it?”

you waved your hands on defense, “no, no!” everything was complex and you knew it was to tell truth in this situation in order to not make it more complex than it already was, so, taking a few deep breaths, you looked at his eyes once again, feeling weak on the knees due to his power, and saying, “it was your name I moaned, sir.”

he tilted his head to left a little, hand on your chin, caressing it gently contrary to the strength he held. “good girl,” he said, making you close your eyes – being called good girl by him was magnificent, and when he continued, it became more than it, “my good girl.” his other hand moved, lifting half of his mask, showing his smirking lips that turned into a straight line. he knelt down, closing the gap between you face and his, nose touching to each other. “don’t lie to me again. will you do it? will you be my good girl like always?”

you nodded, “I will!” you tried to calm down when he smirked again, knowing his dominance on you and proud of it. “I will, sir.”

“then, tell me,” oh he was being such a tease now with the way he was talking – low, deep, full of poison that could be death of you. “what you were moaning for?”

it took some certain seconds for you to answer his explicit question directed right into your face, wanting to get answers of what you were dreaming about him before he came. god knows how great hearing ability he had, catching you calling his name behind the walls. you could swear he stood there for a second to hear your pathetic moans, trying to give yourself pleasure. gulping, you looked half-giant man before you, losing your mind just with it. what it would do to you when you saw him naked? you wished inside, you begged even, to see him naked tonight, on your bed.

“for you, sir.” you gulped again. the room’s temperature was high – so high, like your mind and it wasn’t from a drug, no, it was because of him – simon fucking riley. he was one of his kind, for sure, and you could taste it tonight, maybe just once which made you sad for a moment before seeing him smirking to the answer, waiting for you to continue, giving him something would make him ruin you in the moment. “for your cock.”

“atta girl.” his fingers found the thin strap of your night dress, clinging it. his eyes found yours for a while, getting your approval even if he could see the way you closed your legs together to feel something to calm down your lustful pussy, hardened nipples visible through the dress and heavy – audible breathes. ghost was a beast but simon had the heart of a gentleman. knowing this, you nodded, giving him power over you he sought.

he gave you his hand, you held it, feeling roughness of it that tickles your skin in a funny way, heartwarming even. getting up, you waited for him to remove the dress from your body, letting it collapse into the ground, leaving you naked all over, causing you to have redness from cheeks to knees from here to there.

it was a fantasy for you, one of them really, being naked while he kept all his clothes on, fucking you like that but tonight, you wanted to see him too because it was the first time. you wanted it to be unforgettable forever.

when his eyes and his fingers moved in unison, traveling on your body that began with your face. as his fingers made his ways to your waist, he held it for both of his hands in a second, pulling you into him ‘till your exposed tits hit his chest. you screamed lowly at the sudden action, putting both hands on his shoulders to balance your stance. he didn’t smirk but you could swear he was enjoying this so fucking much from how his hands began to move from your waist to your ass, grapping them and giving gentle squeezes. he knelt down, nose touching nose, “I will give you some times to do whatever you want to do with me,” he put your hair to your ear with his left hand, “then, I will have you with my way.”

you smirked, getting comfortable each second, gaining your confidence back. “is this a deal, sir?”

“no, pretty, it’s a warning because when I begin to have you with my way, you would not be able to even think what you wanted in the first place,” he smirked a little, “you will be too cock dumb even to think.”

looking at his eyes carefully for the last time, you nodded, a smile of victory appeared on your face. “I trust you, lt. make me a dumb for your cock as if I've never been.” the moment you finished your sentence, a light exploded inside, and after a second, you were all over him, kissing his lips as your hands on his shoulders tightened in order to gain strength to keep still because his lips were your weakness from now on.

kissing him with the way you wanted the most, your heart reached its own euphoria, encouraging you to move closer – taking actions. so, your hands traveled on his neck, causing him bend more. he opened his mouth wider at the action, letting your tongue clash with his, reaching the taste of it – taste of him.

moaning, you held his hoodie, leaving his lips to remove it. being an obedient man, he let you remove it without saying anything, only looking at your face with his messy and red lips because of the roughness of the kiss you shared.

it was the first time you saw his upper body exposed, showing off his biceps and well built body with a proud looking on his half covered face when he saw the way you literally moaned with the half naked sight of him. “s-simon.” you tried to say, more like another moan of his name when his lips found yours once again, taking back the breath your lungs asked for.

he wasn’t that rough but you knew his kiss would leave puffiness on your lips.

finding you waist again, he made you jump into his arms, holding your body like it was the last thing for him to hold life on his hands. his touches felt both lovely and intense, blurring your mind, wanting to be fucked by him soon enough.

letting your back reach onto the bed gently and slowly while his mouth found your neck, you felt the heat radiating from his chest into yours and you couldn’t help but say, “I didn’t know my time was this limited.” when he began to put permanent licks and kisses on your neck, a hand on one of the breasts as the other one traveled on your thigh. when you remarked his eagerness by saying, “couldn’t wait any longer, huh? I didn’t know you were so into me like I was for you, sir.” he smirked for a second before giving you a rough bite, making your body jump in sudden pain that began to feel like a pleasure thanks to his added kisses. you knew you was right and that knowledge added more confidence and happiness to you.

as your hand found his nape hair, coming out from the way his mask stayed, you held them tightly when his fingers positioned on your pussy’s enter.

“s-simon!” you said, “please, please, please.” and it took him just put his fingers on the folds of your pussy to make you start to beg for his cock – inside you.

“you sounded so confident now. where is that confidence go?”

you shook your hands in negative way, holding his hair still, waiting for him to stop playing with your folds and enter. “I just want it! please, please –“

“want what?” he teased but he didn’t wait for you to reply, instead, he entered his fingers into you, two of them as his kisses, licks and bites moved from your neck to breasts – taking his time on there while fucking you with his long and thick fingers, earning low moans from you. he moved to your abdomen, then to your pussy ‘till he reach right into your entrance.

his tongue joined his fingers, eating your pussy, adding third finger, going in and out rapildy, leaving you no choice but close your thighs together to take more pleasure of him because seeing his head between your thighs, pink tongue on the pussy, eyes on your face – challenging you to keep looking at him – at how good his tongue working on your clit. “s-simon!” you moaned again, earning a smack to your ass.

“stay still if you want to cum,” his hands opened your thighs wider, giving him a good view of your messy pussy. he added, “c’mon, be a good girl for me and don’t try to hold it back,” your stomach twisted in pleasure, reaching your climax soon enough. simon said, “cum.” to give permission to you before his tongue reached the deepest it could go when his three fingers entered you deep and rough, you moaned loudly, letting your cum hit his mouth and fingers.

simon didn’t stop at his actions of tongue ‘till he drunk all juicy you made with that hard cum thanks to him.

“s-simon –“ you said again. his name was the only thing your mind could make sense of. “please. need you – need your cock!”

“what a greedy girl you are, still wanting my cock even though you cum so much on my mouth.” he positioned himself on top of you, two hands caged your head between them as he left a little of his weight into yours. your legs opened on their own, hugging his belt, pushing him down to feel his hardened cock on your exposed pussy to seek friction. he chuckled deeply at your weak trying and you waited for a while in order to comprehend the way he chuckled so beautifully – he was so beautiful, not from this world, you believed – he was something else, different than any human and he was all yours now. you wished this magic would never end.

“since I couldn’t wait for your time, I will give you a choice.”

saying hmm in response, you closed your eyes and opened them to gain function of your brain back while simon watched you with sparkles on his darkened eyes. his hot breaths were hitting your face and that was the warmest thing you felt. “what choice?”

“choice of position.” he said, kissing your cheeks and chin, giving you explosions – good ones like fireworks on the night sky, “you didn’t say which position you liked most to soap. say to me, wanna hear it.”

you decided to tell the truth, so, you held his face with both of your palms, putting an innocent kiss to his nose like you weren’t all naked under him, took his fingers and tongue just now, “actually, I don’t care about the position anymore,” you shrugged, “with you, every each of them will be the best.”

that made him tilting his head to left, “you didn’t get my cock but you still believe it will be best.”

you chuckled, “why shouldn’t I? perhaps, it isn’t good, hm?” you challenged him.

he put the last gentle kiss on your lips. then, he left your body, standing on your knees as his hands stopped on his belt, removing it slowly enough to give you another twist on the stomach at the sight of him; half-covered mask on, pink and wet lips because of only you, exposed chest with full of biceps and well built muscles, veins visible on fingers and arms, and thick thighs covered with clothes but soon, would be left as naked as his chest.

“I should make you regret for saying that but tonight, I will take easy on you my pretty girl,” he removed his belt, holding it with one hand, unzipping his pants, taking it off from his body within his black boxers. in addition to his speech – him saying how you were his pretty girl, how he could punish you but choose not to for tonight, your mouth opened wider when you saw his hardened cock, finally free, standing with all its glory right in front of you. it was long and thick – greater than you could imagine in those naughty dreams of you.

he knelt down again after giving you a time to acknowledge his cock, aching to enter you all way in. you looked at his eyes, full of danger and lust that pointing out his further actions, “so, enjoy it while you can because I will never be this merciful again.”

wait, he was saying that this would go on – that this wasn’t just one night thing? – you thought to yourself in pure disbelief but it all gone when he spun your body, making your face touch the surface of the bed’s sheets. feeling his chest on your back, you growled – his weight on you only made you eager than before and when his hands found yours, you felt cold sense of his belt. he was handcuffing you with his goddamn belt he took off and you only stayed still, a great idea of comiting a sin with simon looked thrilling and you didn’t move even when he checked out whether you could move your hands or not.

yes, you imagined him fucking you but this – this was beyond it. he was breaking all the norms you expected him to have and you couldn’t deny the feelings he gave to you – both sinfully coming right out of hell and fireworks made from the expression of beauty and innocence from a clear sky.

“y/n,” simon said, for time calling you with your name after you started making out. it felt closer than ever this time, so, you looked at his face with pure love, seeing him getting softer. “do you need a safe word? we can make one if you –“

“no,” you said, calm to give him guarantee, “with you, I don’t need one, simon.”

with your reply, his soft and thoughtful side seemed to give its place to the one whose intentions were to fuck you hard. you realized you loved both of them because they were all simon – your simon.

maybe it was wrong to call him as yours but when his hand found your neck, positioning your head into the sheets as his other hand found your thighs after lifting your ass higher, opening them wide open with the helps of his knees, it felt so right – you were his before even knowing and from now on, you had no complain being called as his as well as him being called yours.

you moaned when his cock’s tip positioned on your entrance, giving you a second to breath in and out. then, his cock entered inside with a rough thrust, making your body bounce because of the impact. your head nearly hit the headboard, moaning loudly some mindless things like begs, praising, and so on.

it felt so good – so right; the way his hand traveled on your waist, positioning you in one piece in order to make it stay still, not bouncing each time he trusted deeply and roughly. he indeed had a good strength and stamina within a great speed, you realized it now more than before.

as his thrusts made their way right into your walls, your moans were so loud that if someone just walk pass by your door, they could easily hear you moaning and screaming your lieutenant’s name shamelessly, as if it was the one thing you knew, maybe it was.

“s-simon –“ you tried to say with a messy mind, “if someone comes, they will – “ you took heavy breaths, his balls hitting you, his weight on yours hard to endure, “they will hear us!”

simon’s grip on your waist tightened, probably leaving marks that would last for a few days but he didn’t seemed as he mind it at all while he kept fucking you hard, giving your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

his cock were reaching your stomach and you knew you could see it if you looked at your abdomen. his hot breathes joined your moans and when he hugged your abdomen and breasts with two of his hands, making your back hit his chest. this new position made his cock reach deep down of your pussy, giving you painful but pleasure thrusts. from the tips of your fingers that were handcuffed, you felt his tightened biceps. giving them little touches, you heard simon curse under his breath.

reaching to your ear, he said, “scream my name more. if anyone pass by this door, I want them to hear whose cock you are taking and how it made you a cock dumb.” his thrusts became messy but their deepness were still there due to the new position. “maybe I should fuck you in shared office even. that would definitely make them hear your filthy moans. want that?”

he bit your neck, leaving your body onto the sheets once again, holding your thighs as he stayed without moving, only his hands. he was literally using your body like a lightweight toy. he was just moving your body back and forth without any movement, fucking you like this, proving the power he held because it was hard to move your body rapidly and roughly just to fuck you and he was doing it as it meant nothing to him.

you felt like a doll under his touch with the way he began to fuck you but it only made you reach another climax in an instant, being his doll – his slut he used for his cock in bed came wonderful to your ears.

“would my pretty girl like it? showing how she belongs to me who begs for my cock – who dreams of it every fucking night ‘till she gains it.”

“yes, yes, yes!” you screamed, “please, simon! let me cum, please, please, please –“

there wasn’t any sound including your own. it was only him. therefore, when his deep voice finally said, “cum. cum to my cock.” you cum undone in a second, letting your juicy pouring to his cock and onto the sheets from there.

you cum too high and hard but you had courage to say, “simon,” to him one last time before nearly fainting, “cum inside. I want you – I need you to cum inside.”

he lost balance of his thrusts that were going in and out softer now, and when he regained his balance, he only began to fuck you rougher this time, heavy breaths and curses came out of him ‘till he reached his own climax, cumming deep inside, feeding you with his hot seed.

it was better to feel his cum than your own.

putting your forehead into the bed, taking deep breaths to finally reaching what you wished for, you let simon took his cock off of you, letting his seed coming from inside to your folds, thighs and sheets – a beautiful sight to your eyes. he also removed his belt, kissing your chin that were hurting but with his lips, you wanted to be handcuffed more by him if he would keep kissing you like this afterwards.

your body collapsed onto the bed. looking at his still half-hardened cock and juicy on him – both his and yours, you moaned lowly, “simon.”

he put a hand beside your head, other one caressing your hair after pulling them out of your face, he kissed your forehead. “just rest, you need it.”

“I don’t need a rest.” you said, “I need you.”

he looked a bit confused, asking, “you want round two? I didn’t know you were such a greedy for it.”

you chuckled at his tease. “I would want it still even when we do it for a hundredth time, but, no.” your hand found his mask, not pulling it out, just holding it. “I want you, simon – just you.”

he looked surprised for a while, adjusting what you said. you could see how hard he was trying to hide his emotions under the mask but you knew him damn well, realizing it was the thing he wanted as well as you.

he nodded, holding the hand you touched to his mask with, putting a kiss to the fingers. his hands stayed on his mask and you felt an urge to say, “you don’t have to remove it. I will wait for the moment you believe as the right one. just come here,” you showed other half of the bed after leaving him enough space to fit. “and let me kiss you all night. don’t expect me to forget the deal you broke tonight.”

to get his normal self, not the one who was emotional and showing it, he just nodded, smiling little, “you don’t forget a thing, y/n.”

“of course, I don’t! it is about you after all.”

chuckling at your own answer, you watched simon leave his mask as it was; half-covered, lying on the bed, giving you his arm for you to put your head to but you choose his chest.

calming in his arms he hugged you with from the waist, you smiled. “let’s stay for a while. then, we can bathe to clean up.”

he nodded, “together?”

you tried to hide your blushed face with a hit on his chest, “simon!”

he shrugged, a ghost smile on his face as he closed his eyes at the feeling radiating both of you. “definitely together.”

the end.

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wing-ed-thing · 1 year

Text

Tandem (Levi x Reader)

Synopsis: The two of you work together seamlessly. Your clear intimacy was usually left unspoken... that is, until Eren asks the stupid question.

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags/Warnings: Language, Fluff, No Reader Pronouns

Notes: I think it’s funny that my last Levi fic was about Levi and reader like... hating each other hahaha. I guess I simply must bring balance

“Do you have the—”

“Right here.”

Watching the two of you in action was fascinating.

Levi tossed you a canister from over his shoulder. The metal container flipped through the air, nearly smacking Eren directly in the face. He ducked just in time. The canister landed perfectly into your outstretched hand. You didn’t even look up from the crate of supplies you were tending to. Eren sputtered.

“Hey, watch it! You almost hit me!”

“Don’t be in the way.” You spoke the command in unison. Neither you nor Levi missed a beat. Eren caught a mutual eye roll as you and Levi continued to organize the new cargo shipment.

You secured a thick wooden lid onto your crate and made a tick on your clipboard. You maneuvered out of the way just in time for Levi to heave over an equally massive wooden box. He stacked it on top of yours.

“Tell me that’s all of it,” Levi grumbled, placing a familiar touch on your shoulder as he peered over your amassment of papers. You flipped the pages with a solemn shake of your head.

“Between what we brought back from the expedition and the disaster that was this last shipment, I’d say we’re done with barely half.”

“Fucking hell…”

Immediately after expeditions, your leftover supplies would be checked and consolidated into storage to prepare for the next outing and regular patrols. That had always been an undertaking and typically took the whole night. But when you were away, a new shipment of supplies had come early. A disorganized mess of various crates and trunks, Commander Erwin nearly hit the roof before he stormed over to the supplier’s office to complain.

The company had apparently shifted management, and the new owner thought he could cut corners. At least, that’s what you guessed.

Levi slowly turned to Eren as you made a few frustrated scribbles in your notes. The crease in his brow deepened, and a vein above his eye twitched.

“What are you doing just standing around, Jaeger?” Levi stepped forward, gesturing to the chaos of stacked and scattered materials across the room. “You think these big-ass boxes will grow legs and walk to storage by themselves?”

“Section Commander Zacharius sent us in here to help. He’s finishing up outside.” A bead of sweat formed on Eren’s temple. Levi stared wordlessly, scowling. “Sir!”

“You can help Jean,” you said, glancing up from your attempt at an organization sheet. You gestured over to where Jean knelt by a mountain of wooden crates. Heavy pouches and metal parts poured out of the sprawling containers. “He’ll need all the help he can get separating the flour sacks from the deconstructed ODM gear.”

Jean met Eren’s eye, exhausted and annoyed at the prospect of working with Eren on top of his menial task. Mikasa carried three boxes stacked on top of each other somewhere in the background.

The entire regiment worked into the night. Empty crates were slapped with proper labels, refilled with the correct material, and sent to storage. The rate at which you and Levi put together a plan was astounding, and you quickly ordered your exhausted soldiers around in teams to get the job done.

Jean and Eren worked to separate the flour sacks from the gear, moving gingerly to avoid crushing anything. Some bags were broken. Eren blew white particles off of a grip and onto Jean’s slacks. Jean scowled but was too tired to complain. The two of them took to sorting out the pieces of gear quietly, Jean placing the parts in their respective bins as Eren sifted through the mess of metal and wires. He was left with a small box of screws at the end of his work.

“Um, do we have a box for screws?”

“Screws?” Jean repeated, glancing over the closed crates. “No?”

Eren shrugged and put them in his pocket.

You and Levi continued to work seamlessly together, racing throughout the room and ensuring everything was sorted. You passed your clipboard back and forth as you elapsed each other. Eren could hardly see the handoff. He chased after you after he closed the last crate of flour.

“Section Commander!” you turned with a stack of random materials in your arms. The soldiers from your squads gathered around you, deliberating with each other over the orientation of the storage. “Jean and I finished. Where else can I be of assistance?” You handed your supplies to one of your team leaders, giving instructions before returning to Eren.

“Captain Levi has the list,” you said, moving another set of boxes down to the floor. Your team took to opening them. You looked down and groaned at the sight, running a hand over your face. Inside, the supplier had packaged together explosives and yeast. “What a mess.”

Eren ran off to find Levi, who stood in the courtyard supervising the organization of horse feed. Levi gave two firm slaps to a neat assembly of boxes as he addressed a group of six. The compilation had been mislabeled as “bread grains.”

“You’ll take these to the stables. You hear me? The stables. If I see a lick of this shit in the kitchen, you’ll eat horse food for the rest of your life.” Eren approached him cautiously, offering him a salute.

“Sir! How can I be of assistance?” Levi huffed, blowing a tuff of his bangs away from his forehead.

“I just gave the list back. Go ask the Section Commander.”

“Uh…” Eren croaked, having just spoken to you. “Well, I just spoke to—”

“Eren!” Armin appeared in the doorway out to the courtyard with a wave. The torchlight made his blond hair shine even more golden. “We need your help with the swords!”

“There you go,” Levi snorted, gesturing down the hall where Armin disappeared. He bumped Eren’s shoulder as he passed.

Luckily, things were beginning to wrap up by the time Eren nearly dropped from exhaustion. After the swords came lentils mixed with the smoke-gun pellets and then the tangled ODM wires. You and Levi were powering on at the same pace you had been for the night— perhaps even more rigorously— but Eren could see the burnout on your faces. A rule of thumb whispered among the cadets dictated that the two of you appeared visibly grumpier with tiredness, not that anyone would dare tell you that.

Levi maneuvered around you, snatching something you offered wordlessly in your hand. He sent off the last of the cargo boxes with a small team of drained recruits, and as he turned to you, he didn’t have to say a thing before you tossed the clipboard to him. He caught it like a frisbee.

“That’ll do it,” you announced. Your voice echoed off the stone walls of the now-empty room. “Thank you, everyone, for your hard work. I’m sure you’re very tired. Dismissed!”

Eren breathed a sigh of relief as you marched out of the room. He quickly took his leave, filing out with the rest of his friends as they trudged back to the barracks in exhaustion. No one said a word as they crossed through the courtyard, too drained from the expedition and the organization disaster to say anything.

Eren stuck his hand in his pocket, stopping short when he felt the small box of screws he had put in there earlier. Armin shot him a worried look as he started back toward the packaging room, too fatigued to ask where he was going. Eren said nothing, jogging back so he could return as quickly as possible.

You and Levi sat on the stone floor, back to back, as he read over the materials list. Your head tilted back to rest on his shoulder. He did the same, his short hairs brushing against your cheek. Two cups of tea sat on the floor next to you. That must be where you went when you dismissed everyone.

“The twenty units of ODM wire—”

“Southwestern storage with the grips,” you yawned. You closed your eyes, letting yourself slouch back into Levi. He said nothing as you nuzzled into the shoulder of his jacket.

“Updated uniforms and linens—”

“Forth floor. They need to be organized, but they can be distributed soon.”

“Great. Like we haven’t had enough of that tonight.”

Eren stood frozen in the entryway. He clutched the box of screws in his hand, stepping off to the side to avoid being seen. Something inside told him that he shouldn’t be there, that the scene in front of him was too intimate for his prying eyes. He watched on anyways, wondering if he should just wait until tomorrow.

You finished your tea, placing it on the ground with a disappointed hum. You reached for Levi’s and took it in the pads of your fingers. Levi brushed his cheek against your hair and tilted his face to look at you. He didn’t get very far with your head in the way.

“Excuse you,” he frowned. “You have your own.”

“Finished mine,” you muttered, half asleep. Levi shook his head before returning to read the rest of the list. He flipped a page.

At that display, Eren decided that he could definitely wait until the next day. Stealthily, he returned to the little, lit hallway to take his leave.

That was until the little box of screws clattered to the floor. The sound reverberated off the stone, causing both you and Levi to turn to the noise. You sat up straight with eyes snapped open with alertness. Eren cringed, picking up the box, and with no choice, he revealed himself.

“The hell are you doing up?” Levi snapped with a deep scowl. “You were just dismissed. Or do you want more work?” Eren almost flinched.

“I forgot about this.” He held up the forgotten cargo, giving it a rattle. You yawned again, a strangled noise of affirmation escaping you.

“Oh, thank you, Jaeger. You can leave that with me.” Eren scampered across the room to your outstretched hand. It dropped with the weight of the tiny container. With a simple thanks, you once again sent him on his way.

***

“Do you think the Section Commanders are, you know, together?” Eren asked in a hushed tone at the dinner table the next day. Armin’s forehead wrinkled in thought.

“Which ones?”

“Yours and Captain Levi.” Eren played absentmindedly with the leftover stew on his plate. The entire table seemed to stiffen. A few nervous eyes glanced around the mess hall for any leadership within the radius to overhear. Eren hardly noticed the way the former members of the 104th seemed to lean forward.

“I think they’re all together,” Reiner finally spoke, eyes darting around the room again.

“What? You mean like all at once?” Bertholdt laughed nervously, swiveling his head as he spoke. He rubbed at the back of his neck with his large palm.

“Yeah!” Reiner exclaimed in a hushed tone. The table leaned closer. He gestured emphatically with his hands. “I mean, you’re in this line of work. Everyone’s ripped and sexy—”

Connie let out a roaring cackle.

“You did not just refer to Captain Levi as ripped and sexy!”

Reiner sputtered as cheeky grins and bouts of laughter spread across the group. Reiner clutched the edge of the table as his pale skin turned a bright shade of red.

“You know that’s not what I meant!” he stammered, just about standing up to slam his hand on the table, causing various utensils to clatter. The noise was not too out of the ordinary for the cafeteria. “That’s not what I meant! I meant my squad leader!” Connie propped an elbow on the table, counting his fingers to accent his words.

“Section Commander Levi: ripped and sexy. Section Commander Miche: ripped and sexy. Section Commander Hange—” Reiner slapped Connie’s hand from across the table, causing Connie to just about go into hysterics. He collapsed into Sasha’s shoulder. Bertholdt tugged the back of Reiner’s shirt, urging him to sit back down.

“That is the opposite of what I meant!”

“You said everyone, Reiner!” Connie had nearly burst into tears. He heaved between labored breaths. “What— what if they…! What if they made— Hahaha! A calendar?! What if they made one of those sexy calendars?!” His deranged delirium was contagious, the taboo notion enough to make Mikasa cover her face with a shake of her head. She continued small bites of her food.

“Shirtless Levi calendar just for you, Reiner.” He stood at a loss as Jean reached up to knock against his bicep. Reiner sat down in defeat, hands rubbing over his face as Bertholdt gave him a heavy-handed pat.

“What made you ask, Eren?” Christa’s gentle voice somehow made it down to the other side of the table. He craned to be able to see her before looking off, wondering if he should say anything. He didn’t think for long, if at all.

“I walked in on them last night—” An eruption of astonished gasps and cries cut him off—a jumbled chorus of sounds molded over each other.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute!”

Sasha’s voice carried over everyone else’s.

“Levi and Reiner?!” She exclaimed. Reiner somehow grew redder.

“Of course not!”

“No, he means our captain and Levi, right Eren?” Armin clarified, and Eren nodded.

“When you say walked in on them—” Jean glanced around the room, eyes widening with emphasis. “Did you mean walked in on?”

“No, no,” Eren stuttered, running a hand through his scalp as he thought of describing what he saw. “I’d say they were more cuddling.”

“Cuddling,” Reiner repeated with a single downward nod. He crossed his arms over his chest as he squared his shoulders back. “You walked in on the squad leaders… cuddling.”

“Well, they weren’t really cuddling. They were sitting back-to-back against each other more… nuzzling. And sharing a cup of tea.” Eren trailed off, face contorted in a pained expression as he continued to play with his hair. Armin nudged him under the table, barely picking up his head to offer him the contrite look painted on his expression.

“Eren…”

“I think it’s kinda romantic!” Christa brushed a few hairs behind her ear. “Two soldiers fighting for their lives with no one to lean on but each other! I could see them together. Maybe Captain Levi would loosen up a bit if he was dating.” Ymir grumbled something incoherent.

“I think we’ve all been in a room where Captain Levi’s shared a cup of tea with all the leadership.” Reiner glanced around the table, unimpressed. “Is that supposed to be a euphemism or something?”

“It was the same cup!”

“Things sure are lively over here.” Everyone froze. “What are we talking about?”

You placed a warm hand on his shoulder. Eren’s eyes followed the length of your sleeve to your smiling face. You glanced over the group, slightly taken aback at the sudden silence. Levi came up to Eren’s left with crossed arms.

“We heard from everyone coming the other way that you couldn’t shut up, and now you decide to be quiet?” Connie met Reiner’s eye from across the table.

“The calendar,” he mouthed, and Reiner resisted the urge to throw a spoon at him.

“We were just talking about Sasha’s dating life!” Eren exclaimed, much to Sasha’s horror. You beamed.

“Oh, how fun!” Levi rolled his eyes, maneuvering around you.

“I’m grabbing food. You want the usual?” He leaned in slightly, a gentle touch on your back. The table watched with bated breath. You smiled and nodded.

“Yes, please!” With your confirmation, he left. You turned back to the table, your hand still on the back of Eren’s chair. “Dating! That’s so exciting! You have to tell me!” The group exchanged looks. Normally, they would tell you. That is if there was anything to tell.

“Are you dating, Section Commander?” Sasha quirked an eyebrow, hoping to turn the heat onto someone else.

“Oh, uh—” You stuttered, thrown off at the sudden question. You could feel the heat of their intense stares. —“No, not really.” You let out a nervous laugh. Surely you were missing something. You missed the silent eye contact Eren made with Armin.

“Not really?” Eren repeated, twisting his mug in his hands as he stared at his water. Reiner studied him, wondering that perhaps Eren had been onto something after all. Mikasa kicked Eren under the table. He flinched, composing himself just before Levi returned with your food.

“You guys are sure acting strange tonight.” Bertholdt refused to look you in the eye. You let out another nervous chuckle before taking your plate from Levi with thanks.

“They ran out of the rolls, but I got you the—”

“The baguette?” Your face lit up at the sight of the tiny baguette on the corner of your plate. You faced Levi with a grin. “Have I ever told you that you were the best?”

“Sure, sure.” He didn’t acknowledge the rest of the 104th as he stormed toward the exit. You offered them a wave goodbye.

“Sorry, we can’t stick around. I’ll see you all later! Good luck, Sasha!” With one last wave, you hurried after Levi and left together.

As soon as you were well down the hallway, the table erupted in debate.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Ah, I love writing young Eren as the stupid little baby he is 🙏 Heavily channeling Bluey “do you have a wife?”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman reader insert #levi #levi fanfic #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin #x you #x reader #reader insert

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saturnville · 7 months

Text

from me to you, major john egan

pairing: major john egan x amelia mae egan

content: John is held as a POW in Germany. as the men are getting letters, it seems as though he hasn't received one. until hers arrived late.

an: thoughts on MOTA pt. 7? again, thank you @turn-thy-paige for the letter-writing ideas.

tags: to maintain your place on the taglist, you're expected to interact! @turn-thy-paige @neeville @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa @lovebyceleste

"Major," said one of his soldiers. John's chewing slowed as his eyes lifted. In front of him was a letter. Beaten, battered, and torn along the edges. But, it was there. His heart leapt though his eyes didn't show it. Everyone around him had received something from a loved one except for him, so it seemed.

John accepted it with a nod and slowly returned to his position, movements slow from the turmoil his body had gone through.

The toll of war weighed equally heavy on the mind as it did on the body. Exhaustion and fatigue of the mind came just as frequently. Rest was necessary. Breaks were necessary. Moments of care, tenderness, and compassion were necessary to keep the men from crumbling beneath the immense pressure they were burdened with. With headstrong men, that was a rare occurrence. It usually came in the form of letters. Letters from friends, lovers, and families. They were the blood that kept the hearts of the men pumping.

Major John Egan’s heart beat slowly. The strong organ drained more and more as the days went on. He huffed slowly. In his hand was a crinkled envelope. It had been stained with dust and dirt and the lefthand corner was ripped. Johnny was written in the middle.

He tore the top of it and peeled the wrinkled paper out of the envelope. His head hung low as his eyes darted across the paper. Her scent was on the paper. Vanilla and sandalwood. He brought the letter to his nose and inhaled softly, a soft sob fell from his lips.

Hi Johnny, it read.

It’s been 67 days since you left. I told myself I wouldn’t count the days, but I couldn’t help it. The bed is cold, breakfast time is miserable to sit through most days, and my coffee would taste disgusting. You make it so well; what’s your trick? I never thought to ask. I didn’t think I would need to. How foolish of me.

I've taken up a job—not out of necessity, but to fill the void in my days. It distracts me from the ache of missing you. I'm doing editing work at a local news station, finally putting my degree to good use. Sometimes, I steal moments to write about us, envisioning our future and the life we'll share one day.

Are you holding up, my love? War is often romanticized, but I understand it's far from glamorous. I can't fathom the things you witness and endure daily, the thoughts that must plague your mind.

I think of you every day. I keep you in my prayers, begging God to keep you all and for you to return safely and soundly.

Though it is easier said than done, find something to smile about. Stay positive. And come back home to me.

I love you. See you soon.

P.S.

We’re having a baby. Make it home for the birth of your child, or we're going to have an issue.

With all my affection,

Amelia Rose

A single tear hit the paper. A baby? His thumb grazed over her sentiments. I love you. See you soon. We're having a baby. “Soon couldn't come fast enough,” he whispered, yearning for the day he’d be in her arms again. With a heart heavy with longing, John folded the letter carefully, tucking it in the inner pocket of his jacket, finding solace in the promise of love and the anticipation of their reunion.

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coriolantha · 6 months

Text

‧˚₊•୨ Patience ୧•‧₊˚⊹

mike schmidt x GN! reader

summary: mike comforts you after you've had a long day₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆୨୧˚

tags: fluff, mike being a sweetheart (as always), anxiety, reader has bad self image, insecurities, reader is overwhelmed and needs a break (so real), hugging, cuddling, comfort

wc: 1.1k

notes: hii this is my first fic i've posted on here. ngl i'm... scared. im not proud of this but i can't scrap it this time otherwise i'm never gonna get anything posted LMAO. please leave any criticism in the comments if you'd like, feel free to share any opinions, i want to improve the quality of my writing! thank you sm for reading! 🫶

today has been punishing.

rain trickled down the foggy window, making soft tapping sounds as they hit and fell, reluctantly racing down to gather in the weep holes. the rough, scratchy carpet beneath you beginning to burn as you shuffled around your desolate home.

exhausted, you gave up trying to distract yourself from your main task; your bedroom.

your eyes darted around your cluttered room, glossing over as you noticed every individual piece of clothing that wasn't hung up, organized, and neatly put away. you began to have a headache thinking about where to even begin. you felt like a filthy slob, your surroundings perfectly reflecting how you've felt all day.

you flicked the lights off, the warmly lit room now becoming pitch black, except for the small gleam of light that came through the open door. you sat on your bed, absentmindedly kicking your various pants and t-shirts away from you to give yourself some room to lay down.

mike wouldn't be back home for a while now. it was only 12:45am, which gave you 5 hours and 25 minutes to attempt to sleep before having to get ready for your office job... which would leave little to no time to spend with mike.

fuck mondays.

turning over to your side, you hugged your knees, shivering. no amount of blankets could fix how cold you felt. the truth was, you missed your boyfriend; longing for his cozy hugs and soft, gentle kisses he'd press against your cheek as he consoled you.

you missed him more than anything in the world.

with a blink, the tears that have been collecting in your eyes came down your flushed face at once. laying there, you accepted your pitiful reality, slowly drifting off into unwanted slumber, in solitude.

the time was around 2am when you felt a dip into the bed. panicking, you quickly awoke, shuffling to sit up as fast as possible. although you didn't know of the time, something felt off. mike wasn't supposed to be home yet, that's for sure.

panic turned into confusion as you heard mike, obviously feeling guilty for having jumpscaring you so badly.

"oh, shit- baby, it's me," he whispered apologetically, reaching his hand out to cup your cheek. turning on the dim lamp, he quickly turned back to face you. his eyes bore into yours, scanning to make sure you were going to be alright.

all day he was desperate to see your face, even after his shorter-than-usual-shift. mike couldn't get enough of your perfection, although you always brushed him off whenever he ever mentioned this to you.

he noticed your terrified expression which started to wear off, beginning to blend into relief.

"it's just me... you don't need to worry about anything, okay? i'm right here, no one's gonna hurt you," he muttered, leaning over to press a chaste kiss on your lips, lingering longer than usual.

weight lifted off your shoulders as you began to put pieces together. now, all you needed was an answer to your burning question.

"mike, why did you come home so early? did something happen?" you asked anxiously, looking right back at your boyfriends affectionate, adoring eyes.

"oh, sweetheart..." he soothed, "i got let out early today. nothing worth worrying about. i guess they didn't need me as much as i thought they did," he let out a quick, dry laugh, shaking his head dismissively.

"fuck, i've missed you all day, i'm so damn glad i could leave that job early. anything to see you, my love," he cooed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, delicately tucking it behind your ear

you were in awe; it was a miracle he came home early, especially today. you were fighting to hold your tears back, mouth quivering as you bit your bottom lip. mike noticed your change in emotion immediately.

"hey hey hey," he whispered urgently, quickly grabbing your hand and giving it a light squeeze, "what's wrong?" his voice drowned in concern.

"i did nothing all day. the only thing i've done is just stand around and... thought of doing something, but i couldn't. i was so tired, but of what? like, why didn't i clean our room? and the worst part is, you have to come home, tired as hell, ready to go to sleep, only to see your messy room and your partner who still hasn't done anything about it," you quavered, sniffling softly as warm tears fell from your eyes.

mike said nothing, but you could sense how hurt he felt after you talked so badly about yourself. he sighed, laying down on the plush mattress. he patted his chest, inviting you to rest your head there. you did so immediately, closing your eyes as you listened closely to his heart beat.

"you know i love you, right?" he asked gently. you stayed quiet, knowing he wasn't expecting an answer.

"i love everything about about you. but the only thing i don't love is how badly you talk of yourself. i hate it. it doesn't make any sense to me," he stressed, stroking your hair soothingly.

"so what if our room is messy? i don't think about that when i come home. all i think about is how i can finally be with you. i'm not going to let some clothes on the floor get in the way of us, ever. or anything, in fact."

you nodded in agreement silently, your tears dry on your cheeks.

"we can tackle this room together. we can do this however you want- i can pick up your clothes while you organize them into whichever area they go to, and i'll pick up my clothes too, but you won't have to organize that, i'll take care of it. how does that sound?" he asked delicately.

you instantly felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders.

"thank you so much, mike. you don't know how much i needed you today," you exhaled, "really."

he looked down lovingly at you, curled up beside him. he kissed your head tenderly, rubbing up and down your back.

goosebumps spread across your arms. you felt so loved and safe.

"the real question is," you suddenly asked, "how are you so perfect? were you made in a factory or something?"

"says you," he laughed, holding you tighter.

the two of you basked in the love you had for one another for a while. no words were exchanged, only him occasionally rubbing his thumb against your arm, while you began to doze off, which caught his attention.

"want me to turn the light off?"

you nodded, wrapping your arm around his stomach.

he turned over once more, pulling the cord of the lamp light, the room now pitch black.

"i love you," he whispered, turning to his side a little more so he could be pressed closer against you.

"i love you too, mike. always," you mumbled back, the two of you drifting off to sleep.

₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆₊୨୧₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆₊

dividers by @f-loqweres 🫶

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x gn!reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader fluff #fluff #mike schmidt x gn!reader fluff #comfort fanfic #comfort fluff #comfort #lovers #self love #jhutch #fanfiction #fanfic

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hellfirenacht · 7 months

Text

Dress Code 2

Summary: A few weeks ago, you and Eddie got over a spat over Hellfire shirts. Now that the dust has settled, you decide to challenge his rulings.

Tags: sfw, Eddie Munson x Reader if you squint, idiots in love but they won't admit it yet, afab!reader, reader is mentioned wearing her own Hellfire shirt

Dress Code Part One

Eddie sat at his throne on the far end of the long table, his DM screen propped up to hide the mess of notes that were scribbled on various pieces of papers that he had grabbed throughout the week. Eddie was never one to be organized, even with the things he was most passionate about. Whenever a new idea for the campaign struck him he’d grab the nearest piece of paper to take down the idea before he forgot; be it the back of a barely passed math test, a napkin that had been shoved in the dashboard of his car, or (in one case) in the margins of Dustin’s report card.

Of course, even as scattered as his notes were, there was no doubting that his campaigns always ran smoothly. Eddie always seemed to remember what note he put where, and there was minimal pausing to search for papers. If there was one thing he knew, it was how to keep his club in line. Outside this room he might be a fuck up, a coward, a guy from the wrong end of the tracks but in the Hellfire Club? He was in charge. He made the rules, and everyone knew it and dared not question him. Eddie had made his claim on being fair, yet not taking any flack from anyone in the club and that was how he liked it.

Everyone was to show up on time every week, anyone who didn’t show up would miss out. If they were late, there would be a penalty. If they did not come wearing the shirts that they had spent a good two weeks on, there would be a penalty. Life may have chaos, but at least in Hellfire, the chaos was his to control.

At least, that’s how it was supposed to be.

As Eddie hit the lights to set the ambiance, he heard a door slam and the sound of giggling. He leaned back on his throne and waited for you to make your way down to the table. Your laughter was unmistakable, and he knew you well enough now to know that this particular giggle meant trouble for him.

You were early, but you were always early. You always hated being late and enjoyed helping set up the table for everyone and chatting with Eddie before the game started. Eddie had to admit, you might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he was always glad that you joined, even when you made questionable decisions in the game that made him want to pull his hair out.

He thought that you were joking at first; a very cute girl wanting to play Dungeons and Dragons with him and his crew? It seemed doubtful. You weren’t the first girl to be in Hellfire, Ronnie had been his right hand woman for the four years that she had been part of the club. Even some of the subs that occasionally popped in were girls. He’d never forget the times Sinclair’s little sister showed up to sub in, or even weirder, Nancy Wheeler had appeared at his table, while Mike explained that she owed him a huge favor.

Honestly, Eddie might have invited the Wheeler sister back if she hadn’t scared him a little.

Then you showed up during your second week at Hawkins high, walked right up to him at lunch in front of everyone in school and asked to join Hellfire. Eddie really didn’t believe it at first, he had been approached many times by different people jokingly asking to join. Eddie accepted every time, knowing that most times they wouldn’t even bother showing up for the meeting. Anyone who did show up would be accepted as long as they went through initiation.

Eddie and the rest of Hellfire put any new players on trial in a grueling one-shot that tested their abilities and knowledge on the game. With each roll of the dice you had proved that you were here out of a genuine love for the game, even when your character died you acted out a heart wrenching death, no one in the club could say no to them joining the party.

You now stood before him, and he stared back from over the DM screen stone-face despite your mischievous smile. Even in the dim lights there was a spark in your eyes that usually spelled trouble for Eddie. This time he didn’t even need to ask what you had done, when it was staring right at him on your chest.

“Absolutely not.” Eddie said firmly.

You only laughed harder.

“What, you don’t like it? And I worked so hard on this shirt!” You tried to keep your face straight but there was no denying how funny you thought the situation was.

To your credit the shirt DID say Hellfire Club on it, but the difference was that the sleeves were now pink instead of black, and the logo had been distorted into something that was... he assumed to be cute? The weapons and demon head had been color shifted to pastel and now decorated with hearts. The letters were rounded like the notes of a teenage girl and the demonhead had hearts in its eyes.

“I made it clear that we had a dress code for members-” Eddie started to argue. He already had a sinking feeling that this was not going to pan out in his favor.

“And I’m following it!” you argued. “I’m wearing a Hellfire Club shirt. That was what you made clear, right? That as long as I was wearing it, I wouldn’t face a penalty. Besides, this shirt breathes better and it’s so hot in here.”

“I think it suits me.” You continued with at shit eating grin, stretching the bottom of your shirt out to show off the design more. “Plus now I have two shirts! That means I have back up!”

Eddie didn’t flinch, knowing that you were reminding him of the time you’d almost overheated in the traditional shirt when you had been sick and the a/c had been out. Nope, he wasn’t gonna fold because he still felt a little bad about the situation. No way, he could be just as stubborn as you and he would hold his ground.

Eddie was always in control of the Hellfire club.

Eddie was in control.

“This is Hellfire Club.” He said, staring you down from his chair. “This is a club where we play a fantasy game and everyone in school thinks we’re some freak cult. There’s no way in hell you’re wearing that.”

“Come on, Eddie, look at how hard I worked on this! Big, bad, Eddie the Freak is so heartless he’s gonna look me in the eye and tell me that this shirt I worked so hard on isn’t the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” You leaned over his DM screen and gave him your widest puppy eyes and pouted in a way that should have made Eddie laugh in your face.

It should have, but the way the candles made your eyes sparkle made his stomach twist in a funny way, despite trying to remain in control of this situation. He knew that soon the rest of club would file in, and he didn’t need them to suspect that when you smiled at him like that it did things to Eddie’s heart that he would prefer not to think about. He didn’t have time to think about that dammit, he was about to start the campaign!

You did look cute and that was half the problem, he already had problems keeping you out of his head and imagining you wearing his Hellfire shirt instead, and honestly he preferred that thought.

Why did you always have to challenge him at every opportunity? You’d poke at his campaign, ask questions that he wouldn’t have thought to answer, challenged his rulings and the world he created. The others never dared to question him the way you had, but it had always come from a place of passion for the story he told. You could be frustrating, but he found himself grateful for it. Most times.

“Think of it like challenging authority.” You said, leaning against the table, your eyes never leaving his.. “We’re already freaks here in school, why force us into your version of conformity?”

“The authority you’re challenging is your DMs’.” Eddie said, but he smiled despite himself. He stood up standing just a little closer to you than was necessary, looking over your shirt and trying not to look like he was oogling your chest. (Which, admittedly, he did commit the site to memory). It was well made (the shirt), and it was clear even in the dim light that this was for Hellfire and not any other club. It fit you in an odd way.

The others would be coming down soon, and he needed to make a decision now. The fate of his club’s integrity was at stake.

“Before you make your decision, Munster,” You said, holding up a hand. “I also come bearing gifts for my oh so gracious Dungeon Master.”

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about being called Eddie Munster, but at least when you called him by the characters name, it wasn’t filled with the venom that usually came with Munson.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms. “And by that you mean a bribe?”

“What else would I mean?” You said brightly, rummaging through your backpack.

Before him, Eddie was presented with cold Mountain Dew and a rather large bag of beef jerky.

Ah yes, the one weakness to any good Dungeon Master.

Snacks.

How had you managed to get a cold one? Had you run to the gas station right after the bell rang and then booked it back here?

There was a moment of silence between the two of you as Eddie stared you down and at your offerings. Your face faltered for a moment, a hint of worry that maybe you had really done something wrong. Your playful smile drooped just slightly and there was that spark that flickered with doubt for a split second.

Dammit.

Eddie could handle Dustin and Mike, they were under his wing and being tough on them would make them stronger against the world. But you? You were strong in your own way. You were so unapologetically yourself that sometimes it made him doubt why you’d want to spend time with him outside of Hellfire. You didn’t come to Hellfire as a social outcast, you didn’t come because you had nowhere else to go, and you didn’t come here for protection from the assholes of the school. You came here because you loved the game, loved this club. If anyone else had shown up like this he would have given them a penalty for this stunt.

But you weren’t anyone else. You were you and you cared about Hellfire just as much as Eddie did.

Fuck.

Eddie took hold of the snacks.

“If Hellfire needs to show up during some sort of school assembly, you’re wearing the original design. If it’s gonna be in the year book, it’s going to be in the original design. Do you understand?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

The light in your eyes lit up brighter than ever and, Jesus H Christ it he was fucking weak for that look.

“Thank you!” You laughed and threw your arms around Eddie’s middle. He tensed for a moment before relaxing and patting you on the head.

“If the others catch you like this they’ll think I’m taking bribes for more than just the shirt.” He said.

“So we can get inspiration if we hug you?” you asked. “Damn, you should have said that sooner.”

Eddie sighed as you pulled back. “I know this is you fucking with me. I’m not going easy on you tonight.” he accused.

“My safe word is ‘sprinkles’, babe.” you teased before taking your seat. From above he heard the chattering of Dustin, Lucas, and Gareth as they came down the stairs. Eddie moved back to his throne and took a heavy seat as his eyes followed you to your usual spot at the other end of the table.

Eddie was still in control.

Mostly.

----

Notes: Kawaii Hellfire shirt was made and designed by Kumalatte on Instagram, sadly it has been discontinued.

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader

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justmystyles · 7 months

Text

Big Winners - Part 2

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x record producer plus size reader

*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*

word count: 2,895

summary: Harry and Y/N have been friends for fifteen years, they finally work together on an album, and it leads them to a night that will change everything for them.

a/n: it's gonna be 3 parts, here's part 2. please enjoy! if you missed part 1, check it out here.

tags: @abby8694 @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

Once they finished with the carpet, they made their way inside where they were ushered to their seats at a table with the rest of Harry’s team. They chat while they wait for the show to start. As people enter the venue and move to their seats, many stop to greet Harry and congratulate him on the success of the album. Whenever that happened, Harry made it a point to introduce them to Y/N as the ‘mastermind behind it all’, causing her to blush, and him to laugh.

The show begins, and they watch as other artists perform and awards get handed out. Harry and Y/N sneak glances and smirks, knowing exactly what they’re trying to convey to each other without the use of their words.

As they got closer to Harry’s performance, Y/N noticed the tell-tale signs that Harry was starting to get nervous, so she reached for his hand under the table, lacing her hand into his to calm him. He grips her hand tightly and smiles gratefully at her.

She leans in close, to whisper in his ear. “One thing at a time, just focus on the performance right now, that’s the only thing that you have any control over tonight. The award is what it is, but you make or break the performance.”

Harry smiled and nodded, but from the moment they entered the auditorium, all he could do was picture the two of them on that stage, accepting an award together. He wanted her to have this moment, and he wanted to be a part of it.

Before long, one of the producers came to retrieve Harry for his performance. Y/N stands with him and pulls him into a tight hug, whispering in his ear as she runs a soothing hand up and down his back. “You’ve got this. If you get nervous, or overwhelmed or anything, I’m right here. Just look for me, I’ve got you.”

“You always do.” He whispers back before kissing her cheek and stepping out of the embrace. He follows the producer backstage, and Y/N takes her seat.

Y/N watches the show as she tries to keep her thoughts on Harry and his performance, and away from the fact that they were that much closer to the end of the show, and the awarding of Album of the Year. She was quickly pulled from her thoughts when she heard Harry’s name announced, and the lights lowered. She stood from her seat with a big smile on her face.

The performance went off without a hitch, it was well received by the crowd, they were on their feet dancing and singing along. His voice was flawless and his moves were on point, but more than that, he felt great about it. He was feeding off of the energy of the audience, and felt fully redeemed from his previous Grammy performance.

The final notes are played and he hits a final pose. The audience cheers and applauds, and he bows before rushing off stage to change back into his suit and return to his seat, and to Y/N.

“Did you see that?!” He beams to Y/N as he returns to his seat.

Y/N looks at Harry with wide eyes. “Oh no, you performed already? I must have missed it, I was in the bathroom!” She says teasingling.

“Very funny, you are hilarious.” He says sarcastically. “Okay, let me rephrase, did you see how amazing I was?”

She wraps her arms around him in a quick hug. “The most amazing. And you had the audacity to be nervous.”

Harry laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah yeah yeah, you were right…”

As the show begins winding down, the final presenter of the night steps on stage. As she presents the nominees, Harry slips his hand into Y/N’s and squeezes. They look into each other’s eyes and smile nervously.

“And the Grammy goes to…”

Harry and Y/N slide their chairs a little closer, and then it happens. Harry’s name is announced. It’s as if time freezes for both of them. Harry snaps out of it first, standing to his geet and pulling Y/N with him, wrapping her in his arms and burying his face in her neck.

“We did it?” Y/N whispers in a state of shock.

Harry closes his eyes and pulls his head back, opening them to meet hers. “You’re goddamned right we did.” He replies with the brightest smile she’d ever seen from him. Harry pulls out of the hug, linking his hand with hers and walking to the stage side by side.

“We’re in this together, you and me.” He whispers to her as they ascend the steps to the stage.

“Okay, but you talk first.” She replies.

They step toward the microphone, and Harry is handed the trophy. He takes it with his free hand, keeping his other linked with hers. Y/N looks out over the crowd, her eyes glistening with tears as the moment sinks in. She grips Harry’s hand tightly, like a lifeline.

Harry takes a few deep breaths and looks over at Y/N before turning back to the microphone. “Wow…” He starts off with a deep sigh. “This whole album started one night on the beach in Italy, I was figuring out what was next for me, and while I didn’t know what it was, I knew who would help me get there, and I couldn’t have been more right. I am so proud of this record, and the person I became while we were making it, and none of it would have been possible without this wonderful woman beside me.” He holds up their joined hands.

“Of course, I owe all the thanks to my amazing team, my family, my friends, my fans, but more than anything, I owe everything to Y/N. This album would not have been possible without her. She’s not only the most talented producer I could have asked for, but she’s also my best friend in the world. Her support and kindness throughout the years are a big part of the reason that I’ve gotten here.” He turns and locks eyes with her before continuing. “Y/N, thank you so much for this and for your unwavering love and support.”

Y/N uses her free hand to wipe away a stray tear as she takes a shuttered breath. Before she has a chance to push back, Harry tugs her hand so that she’s now standing in front of the microphone. She looks over at Harry, he can see the slight panic in her eyes, and he winks at her, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Well… okay… wow… First things first, I need to thank my mother for being nothing but supportive. When I told her at fourteen years old that I wanted to be a producer, she stood behind me and never doubted that I would be standing here someday.”

She takes a deep breath and shoots a quick glance at Harry. “I also want to share one quick story. Fifteen years ago, I was lucky enough to land my dream internship at a recording studio. I was at the bottom of the barrel, just trying to make connections and get my foot in the door in the music industry. One day, this newly formed boy band from a television show in the UK came in to work on their first album. I was in the lounge, enjoying the brief moment of calm that I would get in a typical day and two of them walked in and introduced themselves. One of them was very sweet and polite. The other was Harry Styles.” She pauses as the audience chuckles, she can also hear Harry laughing beside her, but she keeps her eyes forward, she knows she won’t be able to get through this if she looks at him right now.

“He was this seventeen year old, floppy haired ball of energy with this big dimpled smile who refused to leave me alone. He followed me around the studio incessantly, asking me questions and begging me for my instagram handle. I never had a little brother, but meeting Harry made me realize what I had been missing. And I immediately thanked my parents for giving me a sister instead. For some reason, he was insistent on befriending me, and I will forever be grateful that he was. I got to watch this annoying little teenager grow into an incredible man. As amazing and kind as everyone always says Harry Styles is, I can assure you, he’s one hundred times better than that. I have been so honored to call him my friend all of these years, but to take the relationship to this whole new level and be able to work with him was a dream. It was the most fun I've ever had in a job, and the hardest I’ve ever worked. This album means everything to me, so to have it recognized is a great honor. Harry did all of the work, I just pushed buttons. He’s always told me I was good at pushing his buttons, but I had no idea I was this good.”

The crowd chuckles again, this time she looks over at Harry, and sees his eyes glistening, and a few tears rolling down his cheeks. He chuckles at her joke, and the wrap up music begins to play. “And there’s nobody’s buttons I’d rather push.”

She looks back out at the crowd, “So thanks to all of you,” she turns back and locks eyes with Harry once again. “But the biggest thanks goes to you, Harry. Thank you, and I am eternally grateful to have you in my life.”

As Y/N steps away from the microphone, the audience is on their feet applauding. As the two of them walk offstage, Harry unlinks their hands, instead wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close.

Once they get backstage, Y/N wraps her arms around Harry and begins crying into his shoulder. Harry holds her tightly, his own tears falling. “I’m so proud of you,” Harry whispers into her hair. “You talked so much.” He says with a small chuckle, knowing how much she hated public speaking.

“I love you, Har. Thank you, thank you for the last fifteen years.”

“I love you too,” he whispers in reply. The two of them stand there in each other's arms, completely oblivious to everyone around them, the pictures being snapped, the videos being taken.

The whole world fades away as they hold each other. Both of them are overwhelmed by the emotion and everything that has led them to this point. Every struggle, every fight, every long stretch they had to spend apart, it was all worth it to get to this moment.

Y/N pulls away first, her watery eyes meeting his. They stare in silence for a moment before Y/N makes an unexpected move and leans in, pressing her lips to his. Harry doesn’t miss a beat, his hands move to her hips and pulls her against him, kissing her back passionately. The moment lasts for what feels like an eternity. When they finally pull away, they rest their foreheads together, their chests heaving, and hearts pounding. Harry’s eyes remain closed as he lets the moment wash over him.

“Sorry…” Y/N says through a broken whisper.

Harry shakes his head and opens his eyes. “Don’t be sorry,” he replies softly. “This may be the most perfect moment of my entire life.”

Y/N is about to open her mouth to say something else, but they are interrupted by a stagehand who ushers them to the press room for photos and interviews.

Just before they step into the room, Y/N looks up at Harry, “Does my makeup look okay? I just did a lot of crying…” She chuckles softly as she wipes the last of her tears away.

“You look absolutely beautiful.” He reaches up, and helps her brush a tear away with his thumb. She shutters slightly at the touch.

They’re both handed a trophy to pose with. They look at each other, each taking a deep breath and stepping into the press area. As soon as they enter, flashbulbs start going off, and their names are called from every direction. Harry immediately takes her hand and the two of them stand together, posing for pictures. Harry moves his hand from hers and places it on the small of her back.

After a few minutes, the flashes die down and the press begin asking their questions.

“How does it feel to win?” One reporter asks.

“Well, it’s old hat for Harry at this point, but for me, it doesn’t really feel real yet. I’ve had this dream so many times that I think it’s going to take time for it to sink in.” Y/N chuckles and looks over to Harry.

“Any time my work is recognized, it’s a surprise and an honor. But to win with my best friend, it’s one of the greatest feelings in the world.”

Y/N looks over at Harry with a sweet smile, and he throws an arm over her shoulder.

Another reporter speaks up, with their question. “What is the secret to the success of your friendship? After fifteen years, to be this close, how does that happen?”

Y/N and Harry look at each other and laugh, they aren’t really sure how to answer that question, because it’s something they’ve never really thought about.

“Honestly, I can’t say I have an answer to that,” Harry starts. “We’ve never really had to try, everything just falls into place when we’re together. I guess the secret is to not think about it?” He chuckles and looks to Y/N for her response.

“I don’t think there really is a secret,” she shrugs. “There are people in this world that just click, and that’s always just been Harry and I. I think it happens because we get each other, we have the same sense of humor, we like a lot of the same things, but we also have our own things, so there’s always something new to share or talk about.”

The reporters all raise their hands, hoping to be selected. Harry points to one of them. “There has been a lot of speculation about a romantic relationship between the two of you, and there’s an undeniable chemistry there. Do you want to address any of those rumors tonight?”

Y/N’s body tenses at the question. Five minutes ago, it would have been an easy answer. But they had just shared that kiss, and in that moment, something inside of her changed. Were they just friends? Or had something more always been lingering just below the surface?

“I’ve never been one to speak publicly about my relationships, I like to keep my private life just that. But what I will say is that this woman, right here, is an invaluable part of my life, and she always will be.” He grins at the press, hoping that will be enough to fend off the personal questions. Y/N smiles up at him gratefully, for the way he handled the question.

“We have time for one more.” the producer running the press conference chimes in.

Y/N selects the final reporter, and they ask their question.

“Given the success of this album, do you think you’ll work together on future projects?”

“I don’t know,” Harry says cautiously. “This one here has just become a commodity, she may get too busy and leave me in the dust.”

The crowd laughs and Y/N slaps his chest playfully. “Don’t be an idiot.” She says, causing more laughter. “Honestly, I have no idea why it took us so long to do this in the first place. No matter how busy I am, or what I’m working on, if this guy calls, I’m making time.”

Harry and Y/N pose for a couple more quick pictures before being ushered out of the press area. The producer thanks them for their time and lets them know they are free to go for the evening.

Once they’re alone, Harry lets out a deep sigh and scrubs his hand over his face.

“That was… a lot…” Y/N sighs.

Harry nods in agreement. “That it was, but we survived.” He offers her a tired smile, the whirlwind evening finally catching up to him.

Y/N studies his expression, she can see the exhaustion in his face, and can feel it in herself as well. “Wanna head back to the room and order a ton of room service?”

He looks at her, his brows rounded in surprise. “It’s your first Grammy awards, you don’t want to go to the after parties?”

She shakes her head. “No way, you know I’m not a big party person. Besides, this is our night, right?” Harry nods. “So why would I want to celebrate with a bunch of ass kissers who didn’t care about me, or even know I existed six months ago? If it’s our night, we should celebrate together.”

Harry chuckles and offers his arm. “You do make a compelling argument.” She takes his arm and he leads her out to the lobby area to find their car.

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