#sorry for ghosting for five months

[seichira]

will you, won’t you, be the one i’ll always know?

you always worry for sae and he always worries that he might lose you. when everything spins out of control, when his lies come crashing down on him, and when he is confronted by his fear—he has you to slow it all down.

pairing : itoshi sae x reader

content : hurt and comfort. inspired by the fray’s look after you. no manga spoilers. keeping of secrets. multiple injuries.

your boyfriend sometimes forgets that he is just human. he disregards all limitations and challenges boundaries that would have been extraordinary and great if it doesn’t worry you.

but it does—it worries you. the actions that his fans and the media label as out of this world are the same actions that inflict pain on him.

on your itoshi sae.

it broke your heart when he had to exert more effort than most at the start of his international career just to prove that he is as good as the european players. it was disheartening to see that even after he has proven that he is better than all of the midfielders in his league, he was then criticized by his own country for leaving.

welcoming him and his tired eyes home will never not tug at the chords of your heart but you do it anyway.

massaging his limbs to release tension and hearing him groan in pain will never not bring tears to your eyes but you offer it to him anyway.

embracing him to sleep and watching his face contort in fatigue will never not make you want to keep him in your arms forever but you let him go in the morning anyway.

it hurt, over and over again, yes—but you followed him to the ends of the earth. you followed him to spain because no matter how much it hurt, you knew that football made him happy. his happiness was yours, too.

you do your best to let your encouragement shine through and overshadow your worries so that it will make everything better for sae. the smile and the kiss you send him off with in the morning are nothing short of love and support.

but it doesn’t remove the fact that his career scares you. it terrifies you that one day, he’ll get hurt. your nightmares lately are composed of scenarios wherein sae gets himself hurt and there is nothing you could do to change it.

you’re worried and you’re scared, but you will wake him up anyway to start his day—because that is what you’re here for. to support him and help him live his dreams.

“sae, love?” you gently move the stray hairs away from his face and caress his arms to wake him up. “it’s time to get up.”

your boyfriend gives out a small hum of acknowledgement and he pulls you close to give you a loving kiss on the temple.

“good morning. thank you for waking me up.”

without another word, he gets up and gets ready for his morning jog. when he finally leaves for practice, all you could do was watch his car leave the driveway and pray to the heavens that sae would come home to you in a better state that the night before.

later that evening, sae comes home exhausted like always. you noticed that there was a slight limp to his walk but the next time you look, it was gone.

“everything okay?” you asked as you welcome him at the doorway. he shrugged off his coat and places a quick kiss to your forehead before walking past you.

it was complete silence from his part but you are not one to give up easily, especially not when it comes to him. “are you alright, love?”

he sits down on the sofa and wipes his face with both his hands in obvious frustration.

this makes your eyebrows furrow in concern and you immediately throw yourself on his lap, which he welcomes, and he wraps an arm around your waist.

“nothing’s wrong. just… tired.”

“are you lying to me?” you ask genuinely. “tell me the truth. what happened?”

sae hides his face in the crook of your neck and his breath tickles you but you could not care less when he’s clearly bothered about something. in return, you run your fingers through his hair in an attempt to comfort him.

“i’m not lying, baby. it was a bad day at practice and didn’t get the results i wanted. i’ll try again tomorrow so it’s not a big deal.”

you let it go and accept the truth, but what you do not know is that sae got a mild injury in his left ankle when someone had purposely toppled him over. he was worried you might see it and he did his best to conceal it.

“don’t worry about me, hm? i’m fine, but i’ll be so much better once i taste what you cooked for me tonight,” he says with a gentle smile on his face. you mirror it because how could you not?

sae gives your waist an assuring squeeze before you both stand up to go the dining room and go about your night with each other.

he knows how much you worry. he knows how much you have sacrificed to support him in his dream. he knows how much you hurt.

sae is also a man with a lot of worries, so he understands you. he lives in his head more than he lets on and he would never voice it out.

he worries he might not be good enough. he worries he made the wrong decision of leaving him. he worries that his relationship with his brother can no longer be repaired. he worries that you will wake up one day and realize this is not worth leaving him for. he worries that he will lose you.

he is worried because while he tries to manage a lot of things, the things that matter most to him are out of his control, and that haunts him wherever he goes.

sae had managed to keep himself away from more damage to keep you from unnecessary worry. he had also successfully kept his injury a secret from you—until the day you were both at the airport bound to japan.

his phone lights up with a notification from a message while he is fetching some food for you. see, it was never a big deal for the both of you to go through each other’s phones. you knew his password and he knew yours.

so, you open the message for him. much to your surprise, it us a message from sae’s physical therapist, saying: sae, your scans came back and despite recovering from your recent injury, i do not advise you to play in this weekend’s match in japan just yet.

your heart sinks to your stomach and it goes wild with all of the questions running through your brain.

“what injury?” you whisper to yourself.

the last injury sae had that you know of was in barcelona and that was over a year ago. that was the most recent one and he had been cleared to play! he recovered from it well! you were there at the doctor’s office with him in every appointment when he had that injury!

your head is throbbing with all of the stress brought by the unanswered questions in your head that only your boyfriend can answer.

as if on cue, sae arrived with your food on his hands. “baby, they didn’t have the flatbread that you asked for but i knew to get—hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

in the blink of an eye, sae is kneeling on the floor at your aid and looking up at you to search your face for answers. you raise his phone that flashes the text message.

his eyes widens in shock, or perhaps, guilt. “i-it could just be a misdirected text or something,” he tries to reason with you.

no—he tries to lie to you.

he knows it’s wrong, but god, he can’t afford to let you know about this now. not when you’re so excited to fly to japan for a game and have a taste of home after so long!

“if you lie to me one more time, sae, i don’t think i can take this anymore. just tell me the damn truth! when were you hurt?!”

your voice shakes but it is demanding. it is a result of the many years you spent waiting for him to come home to you in one peace. it is a manifestation of all your nightmares combined.

it brings sae to sit down next to you and take your hand in his, to try and make the blow as soft as possible. he looks down to your intertwined fingers, as if for courage, while you stare at his crestfallen face.

“last month. when you had asked me what was wrong, and i told you it was just a bad day. i lied. i didn’t want to hide it but—“

“but what? sae, we talked about this! that i followed you here so i could be with you every step of the way! this,” you motion between the two of you, “this is not letting me be with you in every step of the way! this is shutting me out!”

“i didn’t want you worry for me!” his tone becomes defensive but he doesn’t mean for it to come out that way.

his words are like a trigger to a bursting dam of your tears. they start to fall one after the other, and they don’t stop.

“i worry for you either way! i worry every day of my life that i feel like i will die early because of it! i take care of you because you don’t do that for yourself! i worry, and i always will! it is unfair for you to keep this from me, sae!”

the sight of your tears are enough to break his heart into a million pieces. right now, he knows he is wrong. he knows he made the wrong call. he knows he broke the promises he made to you when he had asked you to come with him.

“i’m really sorry. i thought i was doing the right thing but i know now that i wasn’t.”

“you can tell me anything. don’t ever let my worrying get in the way of that, please? it kills me that you think you should keep these things from me. i want to be there.”

you speak again when sae cannot seem to find the right words to say. “you are not playing in this weekend’s game, sae. i’m telling you.”

he is quick to shake his head in defiance. “listen to me, yeah? i promise you. i promise that i’m alright now. my therapist is just overreacting, but i’m fine. please.”

“i-i don’t know, sae…” you are now hesitant because you know how much the next game means to him. you know that he has spent his life training for games like this, a game at home, where he can show them that leaving was not a waste of efforts after all.

he holds your hand tightly before bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “i promise. i’m okay. i’m not lying this time.”

“lie to me one more time, sae… and i don’t think i have the heart to stay through this any longer.”

he wasn’t lying, he knew he was in the condition to play but he didn’t know what would happen at the game itself.

the first ultimatum that you have given him in the length of your six-year relationship kept on replaying on his mind when his legs betrayed him at the day of the game. his past injury that he had healed from suddenly came back when an opponent tackled him to the ground.

the whole stadium shouts in shock the moment the star player rolled on the grass in sheer pain, but no one there is as heartbroken as you.

no one there is as scared as sae—as he thinks, this is it. my girlfriend is going to leave me after this. my career will be over after this. my country will praise my brother and i will go down in history as a traitor. this is the end.

the stretcher brings him to the dugout and then the ambulance, and all sae could think about is your face.

his head spins as he thinks of a life without you, an unimaginable one that he could not even stomach to imagine. yet, he is forced to do so right now. because he knows that no one is stupid enough to stay in this predicament.

it hurts. it kills him because you are his everything. whenever sae loses control and everything spins around, he had you. you always knew how to slow down the world down for him.

and now, you will leave him.

but he’s wrong. he’s wrong because he will always have you, no matter how many promises he breaks.

you will always be the one he knows. you are the same person who fell in love with him in high school. you are the same person who said yes when he asked you to move with him. you are the same person who told him that you will love him forever, even when things get hard.

“sae! sae, baby… come on, look at me.”

so, the next thing sae knows, he is pulled away from his reverie and the first thing he sees as he opens his eyes is your face. the siren of the ambulance you are both in is loud, but he cannot hear anything but your voice.

“it’s okay. it’s okay. they gave you anesthesia to keep you from feeling the pain, baby. you’re going to be okay, yeah?” you say to assure him but you do not know that the thought of losing you hurt a million times more than his injured leg.

your presence is enough for him. nothing else matters, not even his broken leg. not when you’re next to him like this. he’s sure that you are more in pain and more terrified for him than him.

for the first time in forever, a tear escapes his eyes as he finally heaves a breath of relief.

“i’m sorry, baby.”

you signal for him to stop talking and you continue crying. “it’s not your fault, sae. don’t apologize to me. let’s just make sure you’re alright, please?”

he loves you so much. he loves you for being here. he loves you for staying. he loves your for understanding him. he loves you for taking care of him. he loves you for worrying about him. he loves you for silencing his demons.

he loves you.

“i am in love with you,” he whispers loud enough for you to hear. you grip his hand and kiss his head, “i am in love with you too. i will look after you, okay? i’m here.”

sae thinks, yeah. when i’m losing my control and the city spins around, you’re the only one who knows to slow it down.

lumi’s note: i recently got a report that someone has been translating my works into another language (most likely portuguese) on tiktok. i want to ask for your help in reporting them when you come across them! i do not post anywhere else nor do i translate my posts into another language. thanks, loves! <3

[sonnet-of-anarchy]

Thought I was a pretty patient person but this ghosts book has wholly proved me incorrect

[arthur-r]

these are all piled together in the same part of my brain and i’m so obsessed with it

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 31 - Free Use

Poly 141 x Reader - 4.3k (on ao3)

summary: Glimpses into your life as a housewife and free use toy for the 141 post-retirement. (Reader POV, second person)

cw: soft sex, half-drunk sex, light somnophilia, anal sex

note: last kinktober of the month! sorry i got off by a day at the end here, but i hope you guys have enjoyed everything so far :) btw this is less "free use" and more "sex with the 141 while living in domestic bliss"

Your days are filled with sex. Sex with all of your boys, in every position you can think of, in every room of the house they’d bought for the five of you after retiring. 

You all split the chores evenly these days. No one does more than they’re more comfortable with, and you’ve all found your stride, something to give you purpose, after the rigidity of the military.

Gaz has taken to bee-keeping. As odd as it sounds, he’s got the patience for it, and he’s quite protective of his bees, even has nearly an entire library of books he’s taught himself with. Price helps him out by selling the honey he harvests, keeping track of his profits and managing the household’s finances. 

Ghost hunts, spends his days out finding game to bring home, tracking herds and predators around your property. Johnny does a little of everything - fixes things when they break, chops firewood every morning, helps Simon skin his prey, tries to help Gaz and his bees. 

And you take care of the house. You make the meals, clean up after everyone, and find yourself perfectly happy to keep your men fed and warm. 

Your other chore is to bend over whenever they want. Well, bend into any position whenever they want, Ghost and Soap tend to enjoy getting a bit more creative. It’s not really much of a chore, considering how eager you are to do it.

It’s a great deal for you. Johnny and Kyle are always eager to get you off, and neither Simon nor Price is stingy with the orgasms these days either. You live your life floating between domestic labor and orgasms - not a bad existence, by your metric. You get to live without a care in the world, four men to take care of and four men to take care of you. It’s like a dream come true.

———————————————————————

You hum to yourself as you dance around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly apron as you wait for your pancakes to cook. The small radio on the dining room table plays music from a local radio station, something cheery to start your day. It’s hard not to smile, with sunshine pouring in from the windows and a batch of fresh eggs to scramble on the stove. 

Your small moment of bliss is interrupted by a pair of hands on your hips and a large body bracketing yours.

There isn’t even a moment of fear, you instinctually lean back into the man behind you. A moment later, a rough beard brushes over your cheek.

“Pancakes this mornin’?” Price asks, big paws resting on the softness of your hips.

“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head to claim his lips. He sways the two of you back and forth slowly, to the beat of the song, and lets you take your time with him. “Blueberries in yours,” you tell him when you come up for a breath of air.

One hand shifts to your ass, the other to your stomach, and you feel him smile. “Thank you, love. Got time for a quick round before they burn?”

You mimic his smile, let him bend you over slowly. “You’re just in time, Captain, I haven’t cracked the eggs yet.”

“Perfect,” he purrs, pressing himself to your backside. He tucks his plaid pajama pants down a little, rubbing his warm morning wood against you. You fold your arms beneath your head, let your eyes drift closed as his fingers make quick work of getting you ready.

Moments later, the heavy length of his cock fills you slowly. You moan, shifting your legs a little bit wider as he massages your waist.

“There you go,” he sighs, bottoming out and grinding himself slowly inside of you. “Tight as always, perfect girl.”

You giggle a little drowsily, wiggling your hips against his. “Always for you, John.”

He sighs contentedly, pulling out slowly. “Don’t I know it.”

He fucks you slowly, a steady pace that drags against all your most sensitive parts on every thrust. John’s thick, and the stretch isn’t quite comfortable with no prep. But you’re still a little loose from your time with Soap and Gaz last night, so it’s far from painful to take him.

He hunches over you as he gets closer and closer to the edge, elbows resting on either side of you and breath ghosting across your nape.

“Aw,” you hear Soap say,voice rough from sleep as he steps into the kitchen. “I wanted first go today.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Johnny,” Gaz teases, settling into a chair in the little breakfast nook Simon had built soon after moving in. “You’re the one who stayed up so late with her last night.”

“Wasn’t just me, jackass, you’re the one who-”

“Boys,” Price grunts, hips slamming against yours, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Will you shut the fuck up while I’m balls deep in our girl?”

You can’t help but snort beneath him, pushing yourself up enough to arch your back further, stick your ass further out for him. “Ye-yeah, boys.”

“Hush,” Price scolds, one hand shifting to your neck where he forces you flat to the counter again. “‘M almost there…”

He groans lowly as he buries himself deep inside of you, pumping slowly as you tighten up, trying to milk him. “Fuck, feels good…”

You smile against your arms as the pleasure that had been building inside of you starts to dull to a simmer, something warm in the root of you.

Price pulls out only moments later, two thick fingers tucking into you to keep any of his come from dripping out. “Keep me safe inside you, pretty thing, c’mon. Clench down.”

You take a deep breath and try your best to listen, straightening up and doing your best to keep yourself from dripping down your thighs. 

He turns you around, leaning you back against the counter and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tugging your face up to give you a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth, just quiet enough for you to hear.

“Of course.” You reach up to grab his wrists, holding him close. “Never gonna say no to you, John.”

The two of you linger in the moment, sunlight warming your skin as you breathe into each other.

It’s Soap that interrupts you, an intentionally obnoxious clearing of his throat nearly making you jump. “Any chance at coffee sometime today, bonnie?”

You huff a laugh into Price’s mouth, pushing him away and shooting a half-playful look to Johnny. “Can’t give me a minute of peace, can you?”

He smirks, “Nope.”

John scoffs as he pulls away, moving you with him and giving you a quick tap to the ass to send you over to the counter with the coffee machine. “Someone’s gotta teach you some patience, MacTavish.”

“If Ghost still hasn’t gotten it into him, no one is,” Gaz laughs, shifting enough for Price to join him on the bench. 

“Who says I haven’t?” Ghost says, stepping from the hallway. He’s already got a cigarette lit between his lips, and you wave him away with a spatula.

“No!” You scold, trying to shoo him closer to the window. “No smoking in my house! You know I hate the smell.”

Ghost rolls his eyes good-naturedly but lets you herd him to the open window, resting a shoulder on the windowsill and blowing a mouthful of air. You hmph, satisfied, and move to flip the pancakes. “You’re not the one who has to get that smoke out of all the furniture, you know.”

Ghost sighs, but he’s dramatic enough about it for you to know that he’s intentionally exaggerating his annoyance. “Awful early for all that nagging, woman.”

You glare at him playfully, picking up an egg to crack. “Awful early for a cig, too.”

He huffs and you crack your egg, the kitchen shifting into a comfortable silence. You continue your humming as the song changes to something more upbeat, unable to keep a smile from your face.

———————————————————————

You’re half tipsy, giggling into Soap’s mouth as the two of you stumble into the house. You manage to trip over the lip of the entrance, and you yelp as you start to fall.

Johnny just barely manages to twist and catch the both of you in time, grunting loudly as he hits the ground. The breath is knocked from the both of you, and you lay there in the dark for a moment, still.

You’re giggling as soon as you can breathe again, unable to stay still with all the energy and wiggling against his chest. “Jo-Johnny!”

“What?” He pants, still not fully able to take a breath in. You can see the outline of a smile, though, and his hands come up to fully cup your ass. “You were the one taht tripped, lass!” 

That only makes you laugh harder, kicking your feet against his shins. “I-I know!”

Now he laughs, a full-bellied sound that has you bouncing on his chest. He manages to push himself up so that you’re in his lap, and presses his mouth to yours without warning.

You make a high sound of surprise but quickly kiss him back, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips. 

Your kiss is messy, both of you a little too drunk and a little too needy to bother for tact. Johnny’s softer than he usually is, all tongue and no teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting so your knees rest on either side of him and squeeze his hips.

“Need you,” he pants into your mouth, shifting you over him to start a slow grind. “Need to be inside you, bonnie.”

“Yeah, please,” you say, quickly dropping your hands to his belt and clumsily working at his belt. It takes several tries for you to get it undone, and both of you get more and more desperate. Your underwear get more and more damp as you work yourself over the rough denim of his jeans, your skirt rucked up around your hips as he palms at your ass.

“Come on,” he growls, landing a harsh slap against the meat of your thigh. You yelp at the sting, then giggle, and finally manage to get his belt loose, quickly tugging it off.

“There you go,” you mumble, throwing the belt to the side and hearing it slide against the hardwood. “C’mon, c’mon, need you now, Johnny.”

He nearly snarls into your mouth, jerking your panties to the side and stuffing two fingers into you with no warning. You jolt higher on your knees and moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.

“Sit still,” he growls, tugging you back down and scissoring his fingers quickly to spread you. He slips a third finger in easily, your cunt already slick and dripping for him. “Stop fuckin’- stop wigglin’ around.”

You can’t help but giggle again, pushing your smile against his lips and nipping at his chin. “Can’t hold me down, MacTavish?”

You feel him grin, growling playfully, and before you can keep prodding him he’s got you flipped onto the floor beneath him. You squeal when he somehow manages to keep his fingers inside of you, pushing deep as he pins you down. He tucks your knees higher, both of your legs resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll show you held down, lass,” he growls, smile just barely visible above you. “Want it rough, then?”

You bite back another laugh, pushing up just enough to bite his bottom lip and tug it down with you. “As rough as you’ve got, MacTavish.”

It works as the perfect taunt you’d meant it as, and he’s buried in your tight heat before you can try and push him any further. Your head falls back against the hardwood floor as his falls to your throat, both of you moaning loudly as his hips meet your thighs.

“Fuck,” he groans, teeth pressed against your throat. When you arch your neck even further, he bites into your flesh, sucking a hicky and making you ever wetter between the thighs. “Fuck.”

“She tight, Johnny?”

You both yelp at the sudden voice, Johnny jolting away from your neck and shifting inside of you, causing you both to melt again.

There, in the corner of the room, is Ghost. He’s smoking a cigarette by the window, illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette butt and the moon. You can’t quite see his expression, but you can just imagine the cocky smirk.

Johnny groans above you, sinking back down to press kisses along your throat and forcing your knees almost to the side of your head. “Scared the shit outta’ me, Ghost,” he sighs, pulling out just enough to give you a few tiny thrusts. You moan, letting yourself relax into the floor.

“Not surprised,” Ghost says, and you watch as he stubs out the cigarette and take a few steps to where the two of you are tangled in each other. “How much did you two have to drink?”

You laugh at the question, but it melts into a moan as Johnny starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you. Your knees nearly knock against your own face as he makes his way across your neck, leaving bruising kisses. 

“Not-” you choke a bit on a particularly rough thrust, just barely managing to keep your eyes open and watch as Simon settles into an armchair. “Not that much.”

“Yeah,” Johnny pants, lifting himself up enough to look down at you. “How-how much’ve you had, L.t.?”

Ghost snorts, taking a swig from a beer bottle you hadn’t noticed before. “Less’n you two, I can tell that much.”

You and Johnny both snicker, half out of breath already, but none of you try and keep speaking as Johnny starts to really fuck into you, finding a perfect rhythm that’s just a little messier than usual, a little jerkier. 

The two of you make no attempt to be quiet, moaning and whining loudly as you work to find that peak. Even with folded in half as you are, you try to push into him as much as you can to help him hit the perfect spot inside of you. 

You nearly scream when he does, clenching down so tightly onto him that he’s forced to a still inside of you, his length throbbing in time with your heartbeat. 

The world blurs around you as Johnny takes your lips again, pressing your tongues together in a slick slide as he batters inside of you.

“Clo-close,” you gasp, clawing down his shoulders. Your nails dig in enough through his shirt to have him moaning, arching further into your touch.

“Me too, bonnie.”

He shifts enough to lean his weight further onto your thighs, newly freed hand smoothing down your chest and stomach to work against your clit. You melt beneath him, muscles going loose as you turn into nothing but a limp doll for him to fuck.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm starts to overcome you, Johnny’s work against your clit and the hot length inside of you finally shoving you over the edge.

“Fuck- fuck!” Johnny nearly shouts above you, your orgasm triggering his own. You cling tight to him, dragging his body as close to you as possible while your muscles clench down around him. The two of you are nearly drooling in each other’s mouths, eager for as much physical touch as possible.

It feels like an impossible amount of time later when you hear Ghost crouch down next to you, see his shadow cast over both you and Johnny. “You two done, then?”

You feel Johnny huff where he’s leaned against your cheek, feel his smile grow against yours. 

“Yeah, Si,” you say, squirming a bit beneath Johnny to try and get out from under him. “I think we’re done.”

Johnny gans a little but he obliges and shifts back enough for his softened cock to pull out of you. You both whine in sync at the separation, and he finally lets your legs fall to the ground, heels thudding against the floor.

Johnny rolls off of you, flopping to the floor next to you. “Carry us to bed, L.t.”

You giggle and blink up at Simon, softened from your orgasm and the lingering buzz from your night out. “Yeah, L.t.,” you lift your arms high, making grabby hands like a toddler. “Carry us to bed.”

Ghost snorts above you, but he still leans down and scoops you up beneath the knees and the back. You squeal when he hefts you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He ducks low again and you grasp onto the bottom of his sweatshirt, then giggle when Johnny flops bonelessly over Ghost’s other shoulder.

He carries the two of you effortlessly down the hall, and Johnny’s soft laugh joins yours - well, at least before you hear a muffled slap and he quiets himself/ Of course that only makes you laugh, earning you a spank of your own.

You’re dropped rather carelessly onto the massive mattress all five of you share these days, hand flopping against what you’re sure is Price’s chest as Ghost falls on top of Johnny where he’s dropped.

You hear a muffled oof! from next to you and curl into Price with a smile, tucking yourself close to his chest. He rumbles a low noise, instinctually tucking you close. You can hear Gaz getting annoyed with Ghost and Soap, feel him kicking at them to fight for his own spot on the mattress. You fall asleep with Ghost’s back to yours and Price’s chest to yours, surrounded by warmth.

———————————————————————

You groan into the sheets in frustration, fists clenched tight. “Simon, come on, please.”

He spanks you sharply, but the pain is hardly noticeable compared to the need you’re drowning in. 

“Quiet,” he grunts, three fingers spreading your ass. “Need to stretch you out properly, don’t want any tears.”

You whine, arching your back and pushing your ass further into the air. “I’m ready, I promise, just need you inside. I’ve been stretched for the last ten minutes!”

“And you’ll get stretched for ten more if you don’t quit complaining.”

It’s almost impossible to bite back a complaint at that, but you manage to dull it down to just a near-painful eye roll. You try your best to stay still for him, stay patient, even as you feel like your pussy is dripping like a faucet.

Ghost has fucked you with far less prep than this, you know he’s just trying to be an asshole - no pun intended. You also know that the more you rush him, the slower he’ll go. So you force yourself a little looser, let your body sink more comfortably into the position he’s got you in.

It doesn’t make the wait any easier.

You’re not sure how long it’s really been when he finally deems you stretched enough, but he finally pulls his fingers free. You whimper at the cold dribble of lube as he spreads a bit more across your stretched hole, the slick sounds echoing in the room telling you he’s likely spreading it across himself too.

“Alright, love,” he says, notching himself at your back hole with both hands on your hips. “Loosen up for me now.”

The stretch is sinful as he finally gives you his cock, enough for you to feel the sting but not at a painful point. Your eyes roll back in pleasure instead of frustration, and your knees shift just a little wider to welcome him more fully into your body.

“Fuck, you feel good<’ he grunts, grip tightening on your hip.

On a normal night with Ghost, you’d expect minimal prep and long rounds of edging. He likes to keep you from coming for as long as possible, then coax an orgasm that feels earthshattering from you when he finally shoves you off that ledge. Either that, or he fucks you quick and dirty - in the yard outside, in the shower, in the middle of the night, really any time he feels like getting off. With you around, there’s no need to masturbate. That leaves you getting bent over and used at any time he feels the slightest urge to get off, but you couldn’t mind less.

Now, though, Ghost paces himself far more slowly than usual. His thrusts are long, bottoming out and pulling back until the head of his cock just barely breaches your hole. If you couldn’t feel the way his hands bruise your hips, you’d almost call his pace leisurely. 

The two of you are near silent as he fucks you, content to fill the air with soft moans and the occasional whine instead of dirty talk. It feels nice, such slow sex with Simon. It’s a side of him he rarely lets you see, even now.

He knows you can’t come from anal alone, and is feeling generous enough to grab one of your hands and shift it down, telling you, “Rub your clit for me, love. Wanna feel you come.”

And, well, who are you to disobey?

You bring yourself to a slow, rolling orgasm with rhythmic circles against your clit, hips working against his even with his grip. You moan more loudly now, moith open and spit spreading across the pillow.

“Si-Simon,” you gasp. “Feels so good, so deep.”

“Yeah? Deep in your ass, huh, love?”

“Mhmm, mhmm. Can hardly br-breathe around you, Si.”

“I know, so big in your little hole. You’re taking me well, though, being such a good girl for me. Gonna - fuck, love - gonna make me come, give you a nice load then plug you up.”

“Yes, yes…”

“You want that? Want to be stuffed with my come? Keep me inside of you ‘til I say you can take the plug out?”

“Yes, I’ll keep it in for you, Si, be so good for you.”

“Oh, I know it, love. Always a good girl for me, most perfect girl… fuck, feel so good around me…”

He groans when he finally gets himself off, pulling you back onto his harsher thrusts and letting your channel squeeze the come from him. You rub your clit a few more times, ignoring the aftershocks in favor of forcing your muscles to milk him a bit.

When he finally pulls out, he tucks a good-sized plug into your loosened hole before any of his come can slip out. You shift from your knees to your stomach with a soft hum, tugging a pillow into your arms as your eyes drift shut.

“You stayin’ in here for a bit?” Ghost asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face and dipping down to press a dry kiss to your cheek.

“Hmm. Gonna take a nap before dinner.”

“Alright. Need any help tonight?”

“No,” you hum, curling deeper into the bedding. “You can set the table, if you really want.”

You hear him laugh as he pulls away, weight shifting off of the mattress. “I’ll leave that to Johnny, I think.”

A few moments later the door click softly shut behind him, and you float into a peaceful slumber while trying to half-plan dinner. 

———————————————————————

You’re half-asleep when you feel someone shift in bed next to you, their body covering yours. There’s a distinct hardness against the small of your back, and you press back against him.

“Stay still,” you hear Gaz whisper in your ear as he urges you further onto your stomach. You hum a little in response as he settles over you, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to rest between them. “Don’t wanna wake anyone else up, right sweetheart?”

You hum again in what’s probably supposed to be agreement, but is really just a half-asleep sound. You trust all your boys, though, so you’re perfectly content to let Kyle do whatever he wants.

You sleep naked these days, so it’s easy for him to spread your cheeks a bit, to rub at your folds. You’re still a little damp from the shower sex with Price you’d had right before bed, and Kyle doesn’t seem to think you need much more than that.

You’re almost asleep again when you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and then the familiar weight of him entering you. It’s hard not to groan, especially when you’re so dazed, but you think you do a good job.

Well, until Kyle shushes you loudly, stuffing a few of his fingers into your mouth. 

You make a small offended noise, but it shifts into a sound of pleasure when he sinks fully inside of you.

“Hush. Don’t wanna share you right now, just needed to feel you for a bit.”

You feel his hips shift against yours before he sort of falls to the side, taking you with him. You’re left spooning him, his cock buried deep inside of you and kept warm by your body.

He sighs, pleased, against your back and pulls his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand float down to rest on one of your breasts. He squeezes you for a few moments, but that only works you up more and has you squirming against him.

Kyle makes a small, whining noise and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Stay still, love. Just want to hold you, let you hold me. Go back to sleep, yeah?”

You sigh, debate trying to get him to finish what he started, but ultimately decide that it sounds like far too much work for your current state. 

So instead you let yourself relax into Gaz, body quickly adjusting to the weight and stretch of him. It’s easier than you might’ve thought to doze off like that, held close to Kyle’s chest.

[sepulchrorum]

Why am I watching a scary movie while alone and cat sitting in a strange house!!!

[yaksha-lover]

Someone New

Summary: Travelling worlds has its side effects; namely, having visions of multiple timelines. As you get closer to the housewardens after their overblots, you begin to see the possible future that awaits the two of you, if only you decide to choose them.

Overblot gang x Reader (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus)

GN but mentions of biological children - imagine anything you want though (magic spells that make anything possible!)

i. blooms of red and bursts of reason; riddle rosehearts

Even after knowing him for months, you don’t touch Riddle until long after his overblot. He isn’t truly comfortable with you, with anyone, touching him so casually.

The chill of autumn ghosts your skin, making goosebumps rise along your arms. When he notices you rubbing your forearms to gather some warmth, Riddle insists on offering you his coat. Something about ‘rule five hundred and nine.’

His ways don’t always make sense to you, but you appreciate the sentiment behind the action. You take his coat, uttering your gratitude to him, although it’s quite small considering his stature. He offers you a small smile; in Riddle’s case, you know that means a lot.

You can’t help but return his smile, the small affection making your heart stir suddenly. It’s nice - spending time alone with Riddle. At the beginning of the year, you’d never have imagined becoming close with him. It was hard to see past the strict housewarden who never let anything go.

You think he’d made assumptions about you too. About you being a troublemaker, someone not worth his time, just another problem. You’re thankful you’ve both come around.

You stare at him from the corner of your eye as you walk together. He truly is gentle at heart, despite what his temper might suggest. His red hair sits perfectly on his head, cutely framing his face. It makes you think of his mother; his hair is perhaps the only good thing she passed onto him.

You snap out of your thoughts when you step a little too hard into a puddle and accidentally splash your pants, slightly dirtying them. Riddle turns when he hears your grumble, and you prepare yourself for a scolding. You won’t hold it against him; it was your fault for being careless.

Instead, Riddle only shakes his head gently, before asking if you’d like to stop at Ramshackle to change before you two arrive at the library.

Your surprise forces you to take a moment and just look at him. So far he’s come from the person he was only a couple months ago. You feel strangely sentimental, so you reach out to touch his shoulder, intending to thank him.

As soon as you make contact with him, the world around you shifts, brown and orange leaves being traded for the bright green of spring.

-

You sit under a pagoda tree, the wind gently blowing the pages of your novel. It’s strange - you’re seeing things as yourself, but you’re not in control. It’s as though you’re replaying the memory of someone else. At the sound of someone’s voice, ‘you’ look up. It’s there that you spot familiar red hair; it forms a stark contrast to the vegetation around you.

He’s not alone, either. In Riddle’s arms is a small baby, with identical hair to who you presume is his father. It’s a striking image - Riddle with his child. He’s noticeably older; if you had to guess, he seems to be in his late twenties.

“MC? Sorry to bother, but he’s been refusing to eat today. I checked our parenting books thrice, but I haven’t found any suitable solutions. I thought you might know how to help him.”

“That’s okay,” you hear your voice say. “How is our little guy doing?”

Riddle passes the baby to you, and you finally take notice of his other features; this child has the same colour eyes as you, and a similarly shaped nose.

You then catch a glimpse of the ring sparking on your left hand, and the other on Riddle’s.

“Hmm,” you’re vision-self says. “Let’s go back home, I’ll try to see what’s bothering him.”

“Alright, dear. I’ll start on dinner,” older-Riddle replies.

He takes your hand and helps you up, before you walk back toward the house in the distance, your hand still in his.

-

When the greens turn to orange, you blink, finding Riddle looking at you. You’re back at NRC.

“Are you alright, prefect? You seem distracted.”

“I’m okay, Riddle. I just…never mind. Let’s get going.”

You decide not to tell him about your strange…Dream? Vision? It all seemed so real…you could smell the tree sap and feel the breeze flow against your skin. You held a baby. Your baby…with Riddle? The two of you were older, but would it really be possible for it to truly be your future? That seemed ridiculous. Then again, you thought the same thing about magic a few months ago.

You resolve to keep this strange occurrence to yourself until you can figure out what happened. It’s hard to look at Riddle, having now seen the two of you married and with a child together. You’re more flustered than usual. Was this just some kind of daydream projection of your fantasies about him? You weren’t even really sure you could say you have a ‘crush’ on him - after all, you’ve only recently begun getting close. Not that you haven’t thought of him that way at all but-

You’re sure Riddle takes notice of your strange behaviour throughout your study session but, thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it.

ii. dizzying dreams and endless nights; leona kingscholar

You’d fought Leona hard to get where you are now - on the left side of his bed, with Grim sleeping at the base. You’re exhausted with everything going on with Azul (hopefully) temporarily taking your dorm, but it’s hard to sleep with how worried you are about the situation.

Leona’s room is dim, moonlight cascading over the silk sheets. You can barely make out his form, curled up in the blankets and turned away from you.

You don’t want to disturb the sleeping lion, but he happens to be hogging the entire blanket. You suppose you should’ve known, but it wasn’t as though you had time to take anything from Ramshackle.

When the chill becomes too much to ignore, you try to tug part of the blanket away from him. This causes Leona to roll over, arm suddenly falling around your back.

You’re hit with another wave of blurry vision as the moon melts into the sun.

-

“Morning,” you hear a voice, your voice, say to him. Your tone is playful and lightheartedly chastising. You can feel his arms wrapped snuggly around you.

It’s happening again, the same as with Riddle. You’re seeing things from your own eyes, but you’re not in control.

A groan comes from behind you, Leona shuffling his position but refusing to open his eyes. His bare legs brush yours under the covers. “Too early. Go back to sleep.” He pulls you closer into his chest.

‘You’ laugh gently, turning around in his arms so you’re now face to face. “You promised the queen we would attend this banquet. Especially after we missed the last one.”

He looks older here too, but as gorgeous as ever. Despite just waking up, Leona’s dark hair falls perfectly around his face. The room is different than his one at school; it’s still a bedroom, but it looks as though you’re back in the castle of Sunset Savanna.

Leona finally opens his eyes, looking at you with a heavy gaze before flipping you below him. His arms hold him straight above you, looking down on you lying prone on the bed. “Hmph.” He leans in close until your lips are only millimetres apart. “We have some time, don’t we?”

You’re left staring into those piercing green eyes, entranced by them being closer than ever.

With that, he leans in completely, lips brushing over your own as he begins to kiss you. The longer it goes, the more ravenous he becomes, more and more greedy for the taste of your lips.

-

When the sunlight fades to moonlight, you’re left embarrassed. That was - so much worse than with Riddle?! Ugh, it’s so awkward with Leona sleeping beside you now, like you’ve violated some kind of rule by thinking of him that way.

You’re too afraid to even consider the possibility of it being some kind of dream. It came on so suddenly, but you hadn’t been asleep. The whole thing seemed so real, too elaborate for a simple dream. No, it had to be more than that - some kind of vision - but how could that be true? And what did that mean about your vision with Riddle? Surely they couldn’t both be correct.

You’d intended on ignoring it before, but with Leona’s vision, that seemed futile. Perhaps the staff would have some answers for you…

iii. seashells shimmer in the forever sea; azul ashengrotto

Azul isn’t one for touching, and this time neither are you. Ever since the Crowley’s theory about alternate universes and rips in time since you’ve travelled worlds, you’ve decided it’s best to stay away from touching too many people. It was…interesting, to see a possible future with Riddle and Leona, but it’s certainly left you ambivalent. It’s a bit difficult not to avoid them when your mind drifts to your ‘visions’ while in their vicinity.

Riddle is kind enough to ignore your sudden shyness, but Leona has openly called you out on how flustered you get around him. He seems both confused and amused about the development, and his smugness is too much to handle sometimes.

Fortunately for you, Leona doesn’t hang around the Mostro Lounge much, making it the perfect place for you to avoid him. You try to force Ace and Deuce to come with you and study there, but the two have been reluctant considering their previous encounters with the twins while trying to get Azul’s picture.

That means you’re left to go alone, sometimes. Well, alone except for Grim. He never leaves you hanging as long as you agree to buy him food. Just like today, where he sits passed out across the other side of the booth, having eaten himself into a food coma.

You try to return to your homework, but out of the corner of your eye, you catch Azul staring at you from the staff area. When you make eye contact, he only waves, smile dripped in plasticity. When you don’t clue in, he walks toward your table, eventually taking a seat across from you, beside Grim.

“Hello, Prefect,” he says.

“Azul.”

Unlike Riddle - and even to some extent, Leona - you haven’t really gotten close to Azul after his overblot. He doesn’t exactly want you to, it seems.

“I noticed you’ve been frequenting the Lounge quite frequently as of late - I just wanted to thank you, for being a dedicated patron.”

“I’m not doing it for you, but you’re welcome, I guess.”

“Ah yes, I presumed. So, who are you doing it for?”

Your mind snaps to thoughts of you and Leona in the future, his arms around you in his bed-

“Nothing. No one. Do you need something, Azul?”

Despite your attempt at neutrality, Azul must see something on your face as you attempt to rid your mind of your vision of Leona. He leans in a bit, curious to observe you.

You begin packing up your things, too distracted to continue studying.

“No need to leave on my account,” he says.

“It’s not.”

He stands at the same time as you, presumably planning to head back to his office. Unfortunately for the both of you, you hadn’t noticed Grim migrate to his place sleeping on the floor. When you take a step forward and trip, Azul is, tragically, directly in front of you.

Your arms reach out instinctively, but instead of stabilizing yourself by grabbing onto his shoulders, the force of your fall knocks the both of you over.

As soon as you make contact with him, your vision swirls into another world full of beautiful blues.

-

The coral sea is even more breathtaking than you remember. You’ve only been a couple times, but the drastic differences between the land and ocean always manage to stun you. The water is so clear that it practically glitters as you wave your hands through it, feeling the water pass refreshingly across your smooth skin.

You’ve never been to this specific place before (presumably, it doesn’t exist yet), but it’s clear what it is: a restaurant. If the octopus logo has anything to do with it, clearly it’s Azul’s. It wasn’t too surprising to you that he would have more restaurants open in the future, but you weren’t sure what you were doing here. If the pattern followed, it seemed inevitable that you and Azul would be…romantically-involved in this timeline, but that just didn’t seem possible.

At least you had befriended Riddle and Leona to an extent - Azul looked down on your existence as a magicless person, seemingly entirely apathetic about you in general. You had to admit, the feelings were mutual considering his treatment of you and your friends.

You feel ‘yourself’ look around the restaurant, before heading back into the staff area. You knock on the door to an office, and Azul opens it with a smile.

He, too, is older. His face has matured a bit and he also wears his hair a bit longer. Azul still has his grey suit, though.

“Hello, MC. Done for the day?”

“I guess so, boss,” your voice replied cheekily. Boss?? Why would your future self ever work for-

“Hmm, I may have more tasks for you, why don’t you come in~”

With that, future-Azul takes your hand and tugs you into his office. On his desk sits several picture frames; one of his parents and one of his wedding. You happened to spot yourself in the second one.

It’s a bit jarring to see; you and Azul posed together, dressed up in such fancy clothing. His arm sits around your shoulder, and yours around his waist. Before this, the two of you have never even shook hands.

You hear yourself giggling, cornering Azul against the wall as soon as he closes the door and bringing your arms around his neck to kiss him.

You can already feel the dread forming; you definitely won’t be able to spend time at the Mostro Lounge after this…

As the two of you pull away, Azul starts talking about a reunion for your graduating class at NRC.

“I told them maybe - with the new branch of our restaurant opening, we may wish to stay back. Then again, it could be a great opportunity to network for us. What do you think, dear?”

Before you can hear your reply, the world fades back into the familiar lighting of the Mostro Lounge.

-

A groaning Azul is beneath you, having (unfortunately for him) broken your fall.

You utter a quiet ‘sorry!’ as you get off of him, still a bit flustered from your vision.

He gets up, dusting himself off. Thankfully, the two of you are in a rather secluded area of the place, so no one was there to witness your embarrassment.

Azul can no longer maintain the facade of kind gentleman as he turns back to you, voice dripping with passive aggressiveness.

“I would prefer if you refrained from touching me in the future. Thank you.”

With that, he gets up and leaves. You shake your head - how could there possibly be any timeline where you’ve married him?

iv. jaded jewels shine, awaken from slumber; jamil viper

While helping out with the VDC, you’ve had time to get close to Jamil. Much closer, in fact, than with any of the others you’ve had visions of before. Now you’ve avoided touching him for a whole other reason - you’re scared you won’t have a vision.

Spending time with Jamil has made you realize things you’d never thought about him before - his handsomeness, intelligence, and talent. You’ve developed a bit of a crush on him, considering how much you admire him.

However, you have no idea how he feels. Jamil has never been one to express his feelings so outwardly, but you can’t get a read on him at all. He’s been polite with you, but he’s treated you basically the same as everyone else.

Your attempts at getting closer to him have been rather unsuccessful - the group is so busy practicing, everyone’s been way too exhausted to really do anything.

You manage to get a moment alone at Ramshackle when the rest of the boys have gone to sleep, and you find Jamil sitting out on the porch alone.

“Hey,” you say. “Mind if I join you?”

Jamil turns to look at you before nodding his head. You take a seat beside him, following his gaze to the stars. The sky is dark but the moon casts a glow on him, making Jamil look beautiful under the light.

“What are you thinking about?”

He hums for a moment before replying, “What I’m always thinking about - how things will just go back to normal again after the end of the VDC.”

You don’t really know what to say; his fears seem inevitable, no matter how much you want to comfort him. “I’m sorry…I can’t understand what it’s like for you, but…what if you could still have some kind of happiness in your life?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know…you could still find love?”

“Find love? You think that’s what I care about?” Jamil’s tone is bitter, but his voice never rises. “Sorry, but you’re awfully naive. Things like love won’t make my life better. It’ll only complicate things.”

“I-I understand.”

When your voice shakes, Jamil finally looks up at you, sighing when he spots your watery eyes.

“Prefect, relax. I’m not angry at you. It’s just a frustrating situation for me, I’m sure you know. I don’t have time to think about love. I just need to focus on myself.”

With that, he pats your shoulder before standing up, leaving you alone to stare at the night sky. Jamil hadn’t even realized you were trying to confess to him, and you felt terrible for even trying to bring it up. Of course he wouldn’t be able to think about something like your stupid little crush - you feel so silly for even bringing it up, you should’ve known better since you know all about his circumstances.

It was then you realized - Jamil had touched you for the first time. He touched you and nothing happened.

The first one you’d been seriously interested in, and there seemed to be no future for the two of you.

Was it possible you’d already messed up this timeline, making it impossible for that future with him to occur? The whole thing made your head spin and your heart ache.

v. swept into spotlights, doused in delicacy; vil schoenheit

Vil had been a surprising comfort in the wake of your unrequited crush on Jamil. The two of you had gotten closer after VDC, and Vil had a way of pulling honesty out of you. It had only taken him a couple days of observing your awkwardness to guess at the situation.

He’d been a shoulder to cry on, both literally and figuratively. There’d been a moment when he first pulled you into his arms that you’d wondered - hoped - that he might be a possibility in your future, but alas, no vision. It was a bit disappointing but you knew it was wrong to feel too badly; it would be greedy of you to desire a connection with so many knowing you could only end up with one.

Vil became a friend - someone you could rely on, someone who could make you laugh, and someone who couldn’t break your heart.

Even when you would start to feel something more than platonic for him, you had to push it away. He was certainly gorgeous and talented and perfect…but he wouldn’t be that for you. He couldn’t, apparently, and maybe he wouldn’t want to either.

Vil was more than just a fellow student - he was an actor, a model, a celebrity - someone too far to reach. Even if you had a vision with him, would it matter?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Vil’s hand on your cheek, turning your face to get the correct angle to apply your eyeliner; he’d insisted you get dressed up with him and Rook to go out tonight.

“Move onto the bed,” Vil says.

You stand from the chair in front of his vanity and move hesitantly toward his bed. His silky sheets look perfect - you don’t want to ruin them. Looking back at him, Vil rolls his eyes and gently pushes you toward the bed until you lay back.

You’re left staring up at him on your back, while he sits above you, applying the rest of his products on your face. He’s so close to you, his luscious golden hair almost tickles your face. His pretty purple eyes don’t focus on your own, following his makeup brush.

He looks cute like this, concentrating hard to perfect your makeup. He bites his lip gently, drawing your attention to his pretty mouth, shining with the pink gloss he’d applied earlier.

When he leans away to pick up the blush, you mistakenly think he’s finished and try to sit up. At the same time that you rise, Vil turns back to face you. The timing coincides into an accidental and brief meeting of your lips.

It takes a second for you to realize that the dizziness your feel isn’t due to your racing heart, but the sudden appearance of another vision.

-

The lights flash, bright and blinding. The sharp clicks of cameras obnoxiously disrupt the music heard softly on the street from nearby restaurants and clubs.

You’re rushing away with Vil, hand in hand as he pulls you toward a black limo waiting up ahead. You nearly stumble, but Vil is quick to stabilize you.

Once the two of you escape the paparazzi, you’re left sitting side by side in the backseat of the limo, both breathing heavily. Vil gives the driver instructions to return back to his penthouse.

He turns to you. “Are you okay, darling?”

You feel yourself nod in affirmation, taking ahold of his hand again. He squeezes back.

“I’m sorry they’ve ruined another date. I know it’s hard for you not to have much privacy, but it seems no matter what I do, they find us.” He strokes your hand with his thumb.

“It’s okay, Vil. I knew what I was getting into, dating a celebrity and all that.”

He plants a kiss on your cheek. “Still, they shouldn’t bother us. I may be a celebrity, but you aren’t. You deserve privacy.” He sighs gently. “Has this…impacted our previous discussion?”

You look back up at him. You assume based on past visions that he’s much older now, but he’s kept his youthful and gorgeous look. Even now, his purple eyes make your heart flutter embarrassingly.

“Of course not. I want us to have kids together. You’ll be the best dad and protect them from all this. I know it.”

He kisses you on the lips this time just as your vision begins to end.

-

Vil snaps his fingers over you as you come too, rolling his eyes.

“I know my lips are practically intoxicating, but did you really get that worked up over an accidental peck between friends?”

Your face becomes hot at Vil’s statement, embarrassment setting in. He doesn’t know how right he is.

“Ah, sorry. I got…distracted.”

Vil laughs gently. “Why? Thinking of more of my kisses? They’ll cost you~”

When you stammer in response, he just ruffles your hair gently.

“I’m just teasing you.”

You stare at him for a moment before speaking. “I don’t think we can do each other’s makeup platonically anymore.” If it ever was, that is.

Vil rolls his eyes dramatically again.

vi. hidden in shadows, warmth comes in waves; idia shroud

The incident with Vil leaves you even more confused than before. It makes you wonder…if just touching isn’t always enough to have a vision, does that mean a future where you end up with Jamil is still possible? You don’t even want to hope, knowing the heartache he’d unknowingly caused you before.

And Vil…having a vision about him makes this complicated. When it was just lingering thoughts you could push to the side of your mind, your growing infatuation with him was easy to ignore. Actually seeing your future with him, has made your heart swell and ache at the same time.

You don’t exactly choose to become friends with Idia, it just kind of happens. Just like the previous situations where you’d attempted to avoid the star of your latest vision, Idia is someone who seems like a good choice to help you stay away from them. He isn’t good friends with Jamil or Vil (or frankly anyone). Incidentally, the two of you become friends after a small argument over an anime (the only topic that allows Idia to temporarily overcome his social anxiety just to disagree with you), and you begin to hang out occasionally.

The more your old friends hang out with the VDC group, the more you begin to make excuses and go play video games with Idia and Ortho.

It feels strangely easy, spending time with Idia. You never have to pretend, and with your shared interests, conversation comes naturally. Once you’ve spent enough time around him, he feels much more comfortable around you, willing to share his (strong) thoughts and opinions on everything.

Idia is very…different than you would’ve guessed before you knew him well. While he can be rude, you find it more funny than offensive, and it’s pretty fun to banter with him. His room holds small glimpses into his true personality; video games he loves, posters of his favourite characters. His passion for these things is clear as day.

Sitting on Idia’s couch, you’re playing against him and Ortho in Super Smash Bros. Ortho immediately claimed Kirby, proceeding to destroy the both of you multiple times until he emerged as the winner.

Despite the loss, both you and Idia can’t help but smile. Ortho makes a celebratory noise, before turning back to you.

“MC, we are about to encounter another rip in the time continuum,” Ortho says. “I’m so excited, do you think it will finally be my big brother’s turn to earn your love?”

“What?” you and Idia say for different reasons.

“How do you know about that?

“Earn their love??”

“It’s part of my programming to monitor all things involving space and time.”

“Huh. Okay.”

You suppose it’s true, you’ve never really touched Idia before. The two of you got along like best friends; it wasn’t so much of a stretch to say you could end up having a future together. You hadn’t thought about it much, in light of recent events.

“Usually you’re the only one able to see, but since Idia’s here, why don’t I show him too!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ortho,” Idia says.

“I think it will be good for you, brother! Don’t worry, I’ll give the both of you some privacy to see your future. It’s approaching in three, two-”

When his countdown reaches one, Ortho plops your hand on top of Idia, making your vision fade once again.

-

The Island of Woe is familiar to you by now, after everything that went down with Idia. The architecture remains impersonal; the uniformity of the blank steel walls reminds you of a maze. The thought had unsettled you, the last time you visited.

Strangely enough, you don’t feel that same sense of anxiety and claustrophobia in this vision. You’re strangely calm; it wouldn’t be crazy to assume that exposure and familiarity has dulled these feelings.

The scene is devastatingly unsurprising. You suppose you’d always known what Idia’s future would be; what all his ancestors futures had been. That hadn’t lessened the spark of hope you’d been carrying that perhaps things might turn out differently than he believed.

You had a bad habit of that: false hope for Jamil, false hope for Idia. It didn’t truly do anyone any good, no matter how much you wished it to.

You’re in Idia’s room. Aside from its size and how nice it is, the decor is a clear giveaway. The posters that line the walls aren’t from media you recognize, so it must be future content, but it’s all in line with Idia’s current tastes. You’re happy he has that, at least. You even catch a glimpse of a couple of his old posters from NRC rolled up in his closet. A few pieces even stand out, things that seem much more suited to your taste than his own.

A familiar head of blue hair wanders into the room.

“Hey MC.”

“Hi Idia,” you feel your lips gently pull up in the corners. Despite ‘your’ outward expression in the vision, you feel a small twinge of pain in your chest.

Idia’s entrance into his room (your room?) lets you take a close look at him. Even ten or so years later, it seems he hasn’t been able to rid himself of his eye bags. Even so, you still think he looks nice, his vibrant hair illuminating his pretty face. He’s cute, smiling back at you.

“Sorry I’m back late again. There’s been so many problems with the new system update, even Ortho can’t handle it himself.” Idia’s expression drops a little.

“It’s okay, I know you’re busy.”

Idia comes to sit beside you on the bed, head turning toward you. “Is it though? Stuck down here with me, and I can’t even be by your side half the time. I doubt this is the life you- anyone would dream of.”

“I miss you, of course I do. But I chose this life. I chose you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.”

The tears well in your eyes before you can stop them, and Idia’s panic only rises once he notices.

“Gah!! No, MC, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean it like that. Sevens, I’m so stupid.” Idia awkwardly pulls you into his arms, and you begin wipe your tears onto his shoulder as you settle down.

“Sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me,” you sniffle.

“Don’t apologize, it was my fault. I don’t know why, every time I try to tell you how I feel, it always just comes out wrong. I try to tell you that I love you, that you deserve better than to be stuck here with me, and it comes out like that.”

“Idia…I know what you meant, it just took me by surprise to hear those words.”

“Loving you is supposed to be the one thing I can do to make your life here better, and I can’t even do it right.”

“Says who? Don’t you think I should be the judge of that?”

“I made you cry, MC! Something is wrong with me…”Idia’s cheeks flush pink as he stares at his feet.

You want to comfort him, to tell him that it doesn’t matter, but you quickly feel yourself being pulled away. You’ve never wished more than to have a few more moments in a vision.

-

The room remains silent for a minute after the vision ends, the both of you trying to process what had happened.

“Idia…” you say, trying to bridge the gap between you, but not exactly knowing how.

“Maybe- I uh - maybe you should leave?” Idia says sheepishly.

“Leave? What did I do?” you say, feeling a bit hurt by his suddenly rejection.

“Nothing! I just- I’m sorry, I need some time. I can’t speak right now, I need to be alone.” Idia is clearly panicked, so you follow his brother to the exit.

“Sorry, MC,” Ortho says, opening the door for you. “Sometimes Idia gets overwhelmed in situations like this. Please, give him time and…please don’t give up on him like everyone else does.”

vii. sun and moon, forever in orbit; malleus draconia

You’ve known Malleus as long as you’ve known Riddle, but despite your blooming friendship, you’ve never had the chance to touch him before. The fae always seemed to prefer to keep his distance when visiting you at Ramshackle; close enough to talk, too far to touch.

That all changes when you finally agree to join the gargoyle studies club. It’s not as though you’d purposefully avoided it before, there’d just always been too much going on to really think about joining any of the clubs.

With Idia shutting you out, you were in dire need of a new hobby that would allow you to finally avoid thinking about what had gone down with him in the days before.

When Malleus finally strolls by Ramshackle again, you’re able to inform him of your intention to join his club.

It’s a remarkable thing, having stunned the fae prince into momentary silence at your request. He furrows his brow before replying.

“I do hope you aren’t making a joke at my expense, prefect. That would be rather cruel of you.”

You wave away his words, telling him that you’re entirely serious. He looks you up and down for a moment before a playful grin pulls at his lips.

“I suppose I will see you in our meeting on thursday, then. Please, don’t be late. We have much to see.”

-

Weekly meetings become bi-weekly, and soon you’re meeting up with Malleus almost daily. Since it’s only the two of you in the club, you take certain liberties when it comes to subject matter. You agree to let Malleus show you some ruins and he, in turn, agrees to watch the bachelor with you.

You don’t even like the show, but Malleus’ reactions are the real entertainment. He’s surprisingly sassy and opinionated about all the drama, although he tends to get confused on ‘human customs’ as he so puts it.

“Why won’t he make a choice? It’s clear who he truly desires,” Malleus asks one day, sitting on Ramshackle’s beat up couch as you watch the reality show together on your laptop.

“I don’t know, the guys on this show are always like this. They want to keep around as many options as possible until they’re forced to choose,” you mumble, mouth full of popcorn.

“Human men are fickle.”

You laugh. “Fae aren’t?”

He takes a moment to answer. “Some. Not dragon fae. Once we choose a person to love, we give everything to them, and expect the same in return.”

You don’t know how to reply to that, so you turn back to the screen. Throughout the rest of the episode, you can feel Malleus’ gaze flicker between yourself and the show, not fully invested like you are.

-

You’re not oblivious to his hints. It’s clear that things between you are become more than friendly, but it’s difficult to know how you feel about it.

On one hand, Malleus has always felt strangely charming to you, despite how he often came off to others. There was something about him, or perhaps just the sum of his parts that came together perfectly to make him into a wonderful being.

Spending time together and getting close felt nice, but you were far too used to this pattern to not feel worried about some kind of impending doom. It seemed every time you had a nice friendship, things would fall apart as soon as you found out about your future together.

Even when pleasant, the strangeness of the experience makes it uncomfortable to be around them again. You’ve felt bad avoiding your friends, but there isn’t much you can do to change your feelings.

Even worse - what if your vision with Malleus isn’t positive? After what you saw with Idia, the fear lingers in your mind.

Once you opened the gate, questions begun to flood your brain. What would a future be like with Malleus? Would that even be possible? Would you be his consort? Would a relationship between a human and fae be accepted? Would you be able to handle it? The anxieties were endless.

You think about telling him about everything. About Riddle, Leona…but how would he react? You tell yourself that it’s better if he doesn’t know. At least not until after.

He’s the first one you touch on purpose; you have to know.

A casual stroll around Ramshackle leads to the purposeful brushing of fingers, and you’re pulled into a familiar haze.

-

You’ve never been to Briar Valley, but you know with certainty that your vision takes place there.

The hall you sit in is long, gold trims running along the walls. The black dragon heraldry mounted above the fireplace at the end of the room looks more expensive than anything you’ve seen in your life.

Two wide doors swing open, and Malleus finally enters the room. He isn’t alone.

A small black shape zooms past his legs, plopping itself in front of you.

“Daddy and I picked you flowers from the garden!”

The blur isn’t some shadow, but instead a small child. Five or six, if you had to guess. If her words didn’t give away her parentage, the small, stubby horns peaking out from the top of her head of dark hair certainly told you this was Malleus’ daughter.

“Thank you, sweetie.” You smile at her, taking the flowers she drops in your hand. There’s still some dirt and roots attached, but she’s so adorable, you truly don’t mind.

“Can Uncle Silver take me horseback ridding today?” she asks you. “Daddy said it’s okay with him if it’s okay with you.” She blinks at you sweetly.

“Alright, I suppose. Just be careful, dear,” you reply.

“I have the best parents in all the kingdoms!” she shouted, running along to her chambers to get ready, leaving only you in Malleus in the room.

“She’s so lively today,” you comment, looking up at him.

“Indeed,” he replies, coming to rest beside you. “You look beautiful, my love.”

“And you, my king.”

The two of you share a kiss. It’s all so - dizzying. It’s not unexpected to have a child with Malleus - you had one with Riddle, but this is different. This child is older, she knows you, she feels so real.

He pulls away to smile at you. “I have a gift for you.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Need there be one for me to celebrate my wonderful spouse?”

“I suppose not. Thank you, Malleus. No matter how many gifts you give, I will treasure them all.”

He pulls out a box from his pocket, asking you to turn around. You feel him guide a cold band around your neck, clasping it in the back. He then places a small, handheld mirror in your hands, urging you to look.

The necklace he’s given you is beyond stunning. It’s silver, with a dazzling gemstone in the middle. You don’t even want to ponder how much it must’ve cost.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

It’s strange - seeing yourself much older when Malleus looks the same. It unsettles you more than you’d like to admit. It’s one thing to know you’ll age at different rates and another to see it with your own eyes.

This must be something on your mind in the future as well, because of the next thing you decide to ask Malleus.

“Will I see her grow up? For me, it feels like she’s been young forever. I love it and yet…I want to see more of her life than just this.”

He doesn’t ask who you’re referring to. “You will. You’ll see most. I was practicing mature by my eighty-first birthday.”

You sigh. “I may not even get that far. I’m healthy now, but who knows. The curses of being human…”

He tilts your chin to face him. “It is not a curse to me, my love. I chose you, and I would again.”

There’s infinitely more to discuss, but you already feel yourself slipping away.

-

You come to from the vision mid walk. Malleus is unaffected, seemingly still in the middle of one of his explanations behind the rich history of one of gargoyles you’d just passed by.

When he notices your silence and turns to ask if you’re alright, you have no response for him.

It seems almost selfish, for you to choose him. Why- why did there need to be so many things wrong? Why did you have to be human, to pain him and your future children by leaving them behind so early?

The joy and the pain - would it all truly be worth it? Or would it be better for it to have never happened?

Malleus looks at you with concern, wiping the tears suddenly cascading down your cheeks.

“What’s wrong, my child of man?”

Everything and nothing, you want to tell him.

viii. all things end, all that we intend; conclusion

Seven beautiful souls, all potential endings. Every future you glimpsed has it’s own charms, and it’s own poisons.

Which future will you choose? One of them? Or perhaps…another?

[qwimchii]

i was hoping to put forward a request, if that’s okay? 👉🏻👈🏻 angst (or hurt/comfort?) and smut with ghost? and i’m totally not projecting here but — reader has a hard time finishing, either by themselves or with someone? and when they’re with someone, they get so worried about taking too long and not being able to finish or even feeling good and they apologize for taking too long and it dissolves into them crying and apologizing more and mentioning how they think they’re broken and there’s something wrong with them and it kinda makes them think ghost will leave for someone else because that’s what everyone else has done and basically just ghost being soft and sweet and understanding and taking his time with reassurance and praise and yeah… gonna go hide now 🥲

𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘤 — 5k

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥…

note: omllllll!!!! 💞 i am so sorry for taking so long to write this request but this is so sweet and cute 😭 thank you sm for requesting!! ><

pt 2, pt 3

Simon Riley had been your boyfriend for maybe a month now. or maybe two weeks. or maybe three months, you decided finally, sipping your water with closed eyes, willing the frustrated bounce of your knee to settle.

of course, picking your head up and looking at the entrance of the restaurant one last time, that frustration redoubled, and you watched your knee bounce with a mind of its own.

setting the drink back on its coaster, you drew random patterns into the floral tablecloth with a pout. Simon had chosen this restaurant. Simon had initiated communication with you—mindblowing as it was—just last night when you were scrolling through instagram in bed. 

the notification had ballooned over a post of an old friend from college traveling in europe, and immediately, you had squealed, pressing your phone to your chest to stop the race of your thrumming heart. you made yourself count out two minutes—at least two, before you responded.

— Dinner tmrw at the diner on 6th ave?

— sure!! good to hear from you :))

— what time??

— 7.

it was curt, it was short, it was sweet, but it gave you all the motivation you needed to power through the day and weasel your way into the diner, earlier to the occasion than usual. now, it was half past seven. now, you were playing with the tablecloth of the booth and feeling stupid and sorry for yourself.

stupid because you had sorely missed Simon since he went radio silent for over a month. sorry for yourself because you had thought you were at least close enough for him to text you beforehand.

definitively, you knew you had met the brit five months ago when he moved into the empty apartment adjacent to your own. he crowded every entrance he stood in, so massive and hulking when the elevator doors that you startled with a squeak, dropping the cardboard box and all the items scattering out over the carpet floor.

you had flushed with embarrassment, whole body heating up as you scrambled to stuff all the items back into the box with a string of apologies. he had dropped to your side without a word, putting back a pair of socks, your old band t-shirt from high school, and tennis shoes that had gone gray with discoloration. he hadn’t even bothered to one-over your personal items, but you were scrambling for an explanation anyway.

“donations for vets,” you said with nervous laughter. “i donate every year.”

“vets?” he reiterated, and you looked up into his face, eyeing the black surgical mask on his face carefully, brown eyes a murky kind of gray-ish beneath blonde eyebrows and his hood drawn up above that. 

“mhmm,” you squeaked, suddenly wary of the stranger in front of you.

when he said nothing more, you asked him, “any veterans in the family?”

then he just stared at you and you blushed, feeling stupid for saying anything at all but—

“my grandfather,” he said slowly. “and my great grandfather.”

“nice,” you choked out, unsure what to say as you searched the carpet of the last of your remnants.

then, he added, “i’m in the military as well.”

just when you were about to bolt, intimidated by the sheer size of him and his eerie unfamiliar presence in your apartment complex, it was like he read your mind to introduce himself.

“Simon Riley. new neighbor.”

you nodded slowly, giving him your name back and edging your fingers under the cardboard box, heaving it up into your arms.

“nice to meet you,” you said, giving him a weak smile from over the top of the box. he tilted his head at you, eyes flitting from the box to you.

when a prolonged silence ensued, you turned on your heel and stepped toward the elevator before you jerked around again.

“thank you for your service,” you squeaked, scurrying toward the elevator and feeling awkward when he just watched you from the hallway. you waved as the doors closed, watching him slip his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

with one long look, he turned and prowled down the hallway.

that was five months ago. two months later, after endless awkward encounters of wordless greetings with him, the plumbing in your bathroom sink had exploded, flooding the floor in a puddle of water and spraying over the front of your white dress.

in a panic, you went to your next door neighbor Simon who opened the door upon your third set of rapid knocks.

you looked up to his massive form in the entrance, suddenly aware of how the front of your soaked dress had become sheer when you asked him to help you. 

he helped. and then you asked him to get drinks at the bar around the corner as a thank you. then when that became a regular occurrence, things just got more confusing.

it felt exclusive. maybe. you thought it felt exclusive when a man approached you in the bar, gearing up for a casual conversation with a sly smirk, but Simon was always at your back in an instant, a large, warm hand on your waist and his words in your ear.

she’s taken.

your mind spun after the first time it happened. taken?

whirling around on your heel after the man left with a low grumble and scowl, Simon just blinked down at you from behind his surgical mask, squeezing your waist with both hands before he was sinking back down into his seat, hulking as he leaned over the bar.

when the same happened a few more times, you didn’t question it, thinking it was maybe just a perk of the friendship. he staves off a couple creepy men at the bar and you pay for drinks. 

or at least that’s how you thought it worked until he started sliding his card across the counter to the bartender to claim the tab before you could even get a word out.

you were especially confused when he knocked at your apartment door one night. you opened it to find him void of the hoodie usually slung up and over his head, blonde hair hanging down his forehead, and a black shirt in its place. that’s when you saw the thick black ink winding down the tattoo sleeve of his arm, and your eyes darted over it with a blush, before you were inviting him in.

he had smelled something baking, he clarified, craning his neck into the kitchen. that made you giddy because you hadn’t taken him for someone nosy, but you entertained it nonetheless, assuming he just had an insatiable sweet tooth for cookies.

another part of you hoped he just had a sweet tooth for you.

then the baking became a regular occurrence. you’d bake him all sorts of sweets while he watched you from the little table in your kitchen, staring from behind that black mask of his while you prattled about your day and he took it all in silently. somewhere along the way, after so many nights of him chewing behind the mask, he ditched it completely, and you could watch him devour your brownies in a few bites without the annoying fabric in the way.

the new schedule had become very regular until it was baking night and he didn’t show up to your door. rolling the tenseness from your shoulders, you sent him a quick text, saying you would bring over the sweets in the morning to his apartment.

when he didn’t respond to that, a little nervous bubble of anxiety rooted in your chest. you found out from your landlord days later that Simon would be away for work, and that hurt more than you wanted it to. if he had taken the time to at least notify your landlord, he could’ve done the same for you… couldn’t he?

unless he didn’t think about you that way. but you were so sure—from the quick glances you shared, his gentle touches as he brushed past you in your kitchen, or the possessive grip on your waist at the bar, or just the way he was so relaxed around you meant something.

those were your thoughts that ran in circles as you sat at the diner booth. the waiter checked on your table every once and a while, sending you nervous glances ever since you said that you had a date… or a friend. or something like that.

you felt stupid for accepting Simon’s proposal so quickly, even after he had ghosted you for weeks. even then, you had dolled yourself up anyways, picking out the new dress you got last weekend and doing your hair and makeup. you buried your face in your hands, not looking up when you heard the chime of the diner opening.

when you heard a familiar, low and grating accent, your head snapped up to see Simon standing by the entrance and talking to the waiter, gesturing to you as the waiter just nodded.

Simon strode over to you, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and dressed in his military fatigues, half his face behind in a black surgical mask.

you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you when you reached your senses, heart soaring as you scrambled to stand. your hands twitched against the table when he stopped in front of you, dropping his duffle bag to the floor.

had he come straight from the airport? for you? you felt like your mind was spinning, but you forced it to still, desperately not wanting to jump to any strange conclusions…

swallowing down your thoughts, you said slowly, “it’s been a while.”

looking up into his murky brown eyes had never been so comforting.

“it has,” he affirmed, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.

for a long moment, you both just stood there in silence, staring at each other and unsure what to do.

eyes darting down to his torso, you could feel the warmth of his body in the close proximity, and you felt so tempted to just touch him.

you outstretched a hand to brush over his clothing, and when he didn’t move away, you pressed your knuckles into his abdomen, amazed to feel him solid and real. then you wrapped yourself around his torso, giving him a tight hug, cheek pressed against his strong chest.

immediately, he engulfed you, squeezing you back.

“missed you,” you admitted, screwing your eyes shut.

you felt his nose press into the crown of your hair. “m’sorry m’late, love.” 

“s’fine,” you sniffled, feeling stupid when tears pricked up in your eyes. when you pulled back, you swiped at them with the back of your hand, startled when he reached forward to brush his fingers across your wet cheeks, squishing the chub of your face lightly.

he looked at you with such a softness that you almost melted, feeling nervous because you had never seen him look at you like that before.

then, as you both slid into the booth, you chided him in between sniffles, “don’t do that to me again.”

don’t leave me in the dark again, was what you meant, and you knew he understood what you meant when he nodded curtly.

the dinner went smoothly. more than you could imagine. or maybe you were just overwhelmed with the exhausting joy that Simon was still just the same since before he left two months ago—lowly grunted non-verbal responses as he munched on a platter of fish and chips, stealing a couple of your fries after he devoured his plate at a startling pace, and some rumbles of half-sentences, leaning on his elbow as he watched you ramble with excitement and sip on your milkshake every now and then.

when you accidentally got a smidge of whipped cream on your nose, he reached across the table to wipe it off, cutting through your words mid-sentence. you thanked him with a blush, shifting over the booth, just blushing harder when your shoes knocked against his under the table.

leaving felt smooth too—walking back to the apartment complex just a couple blocks away. even in the darkness of the night, you felt safe tucked near his side, enjoying his presence so close to your side and feeling disappointed when you reached the hallway you shared in the apartment complex.

he stopped by your door and you fumbled with your dress, struggling for words.

“come inside,” you offered, though it sounded more like a plea. your eyes flitted from his face to the duffle bag on his shoulder, hands twisting into the fabric of your dress.

“i know you must be tired but—”

“m’not,” he assured, squaring his shoulders. you nodded dumbly.

“i can bake brownies?” you squeaked, and he blinked down at you.

“s’reason why i’m here, love.”

at that you blushed, opening the apartment and throwing your jacket on the couch, moving to rifle through the kitchen.

“it won’t take long i promise,” you called from behind the fridge door, snatching the butter and eggs from it.

closing the door to turn to the counter, you jolted when Simon materialized beside you, boots, mask, and the jacket of his fatigues off, reaching above you to open a cabinet. your eyes darted over the ink designs of his muscled arm.

“flour and sugar’s here, right?” he asked, and you squeaked a yes, ducking beneath his arm to put the butter and eggs on the counter before grabbing a mixing bowl and baking pan from a lower cabinet.

once all the necessary items were strewn across the counter, you measured out the dry ingredients, dumping them into the mixing bowl. beside you, Simon leaned back against the edge of the kitchen sink, arms crossed as he watched you.

you were hyper-aware of his presence, hands jittery, confused because he always sat at the kitchen table to watch you. he never got this close and personal, uncrossing his arms to slide a hand over the counter right by where your hip leaned against it.

from your peripheral, you glanced at him, finding him already staring down at you.

“can i help?” he asked, voice gruff, and you turned your head to stare at him in dismay. this was new. very new.

“sure,” you choked out, scooting over so he could help you measure out the ingredients. he filled the space easily, arm pressed against yours in the little space.

you blushed. this was very very new.

he cracked an egg on the edge of the bowl, and you watched the yellow glop plop into the flour.

playing off the whole situation as a joke, you laughed nervously as you mixed the wet ingredients into the bowl. “miss my baking that much?”

you bit down on your lip, unable to look at him, just focusing on the churn of brown batter in the mixing bowl. when you felt him lean in, his strong bicep against yours, you muffled a yelp.

“‘course.”

“really?” you asked, pouring the batter into the greased up pan.

for good measure, you dipped a finger into the batter and tasted it, eyes flickering up to Simon. it was sweet.

he stared down at you, an imperceptible, dark look on his face as he leaned over and dipped his thumb into the batter, then swiped the gooey brown substance over your cheek.

“oops.” there was a smugness in his voice that his face smothered, expression blank when he gripped your jaw tight. 

you gasped when he turned your face and leaned down to lick you.

the textured muscle of his tongue pressed into the curve of your flesh, licking away the sweet taste from your cheek.

then, he leaned back with a hum. “i like sweet things.”

you clutched at his wrist keeping your jaw firmly in place, wide-eyed and heart beating out of your chest. you watched his finger dip back in the batter and reached up to your lips, spreading the sugary sweet batter over your lower lip.

you squeaked, unable to look anywhere but his bare face, rugged and handsome in the low light.

“may i?” he asked, eyes flitting down to your lips, and you couldn’t even nod in his hold, just a low, breathy yes on your lips that he swallowed, tongue sucking the traces of batter on your lips. 

you whimpered into his mouth, clutching at his shirt as he angled your head with a soft touch, sliding his hand on your jaw to your neck, just resting there. that spurred on a familiar burn in your stomach, and you squirmed in his hold.

when he leaned back, you were breathless and panting with flushed cheeks.

“sweet,” he rasped, like he was approving the taste as he licked over his lips.

from that point on, you didn’t really remember how you got to your bedroom, Simon’s hands edging up the hem of your dress beneath him, knuckles drawing a warm trail up to your hips as he sucked on the skin of your neck.

the only thing you could do was whine and squirm under his weight, legs and arms pinning you down as he did what he liked, giving you sweet kisses that made you feel all hazy.

you watched his head dip beneath the fabric of your dress and you gasped when you felt his lips against your thighs, skipping where you needed him most, and then against your stomach and the flesh of your breasts.

and all throughout the pleasurable haze, your fingers curled into the sheets, nails digging into the bed because you were beyond nervous.

you knew this would happen eventually—that Simon would end up in your bed or the other way around. kissing him was a dream. having him caging you against the bed with his heady weight was a dream.

sliding a hand over his back, his rushed movements slowed against your skin, taking the time to suck carefully around your pebbled nipples that had your hips bucking up with a whimper.

your mind spun. but you were so nervous.

it was all you could think about as he descended back down between your thighs, both of his big arms curling around your thighs to lock you in place against the bed.

words rung your mind loud and clear—what the hell is wrong with you?

when Simon dipped a thumb beneath the top of your panties, the words shook you again.

what the hell is wrong with you?

you hadn’t even noticed how still and quiet you had grown until his head perked up between your thighs, pupils blown wide. he swiped a thumb over the soaking entrance of your panties, drawing a whimper from your throat.

“what is it?” he asked, voice so throaty and rough that you shivered with want. you had wanted this for so long.

“nothing,” you whispered, tugging his head back down between your thighs, but he didn’t budge, frowning at you.

“tell me,” he probed, “m’not touchin’ you if you don’t, sweet thing.”

sweet thing.

swallowing hard, you shifted against the bed. “m’just nervous.”

“yeah?” he stroked the plush, soft skin of your inner thigh, before pressing his lips to it. “don’t worry. i’ll make you feel good.”

you nodded, biting down on your lip, though his words didn’t quell any of the raging anxiety thrumming within your chest, even when he kissed the wet fabric stretched over your cunt, nosing through your folds and his hot breath against you.

lifting up your hips with ease, he tugged a pillow beneath you.

“comfy?” he asked, hooking two fingers beneath your panties and sliding it down your thighs.

“uh-huh,” you gasped, back arching when he ducked between your legs and pressed the pink muscle of his tongue flat against your cunt.

“good,” he grunted against you, pecking your swollen clit before swirling his tongue around it, and building a steady, delicious pace that had you hiccuping moans.

your hands snaked through his hair, gripping the blonde curls tight and pulling, startling when he groaned in response, the tremors going straight from the back of his throat and into your clit.

you ground against his face and he purred in approval. “tha’s it, sweet thing.” 

you took the pleasure and rode it, pushing yourself further and further to the edge, or at least you thought you were, seeing no end in sight for the sensations wracking your body. every passing moment felt too long, and you could practically feel the irritation roiling off Simon in waves.

even though you couldn’t see his face, just could hear his soft noises of approval against your cunt, it was like you knew he was growing impatient.

frustrated, you huffed a whine, that anxiety in your chest squashing half the pleasurable experience. he reached up and pressed down on the lower part of your tummy, intensifying it all over again, making you gasp as your head fell back.

“relax,” he mumbled, playing with your clit as he pressed his tongue into your cunt, humming as he tasted you.

it was overwhelming. too overwhelming, and you couldn’t help the tears that pricked up in your eyes as you were torn between finishing and feeling good and pleasing Simon and—

a little sob broke from your throat, and he went still between your legs.

you covered your face with your hands, digging your palms into your eyes and muffled the sounds falling from your lips.

why were you crying?

brows pinched together, you scrunched up your face. “sorry, sorry, just keep going—”

you cut off when a sob choked your throat, refusing to look at Simon and withering when he stayed silent, feeling really fucking stupid as you just cried in the bed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whimpered, feeling him tug your dress back down over your thighs and hike your panties back up your hips.

you expected him to leave, ready to feel the weight of him against you on the bed disappear, and his heavy footsteps through the apartment, then the slam of the door behind him.

and you did—the dip in the bed lifted and you heard his footsteps edge around the bed.

then, you gasped when he slid into the bed beside you, arm circling beneath your waist and pulling you flush to his chest, breath right against your ear.

“what’s wrong, sweet thing?” he sighed, though it didn’t sound irritated, just tired as he sunk into the bed beside you.

your breath stilled, the cries dying in your throat as you twisted to look back at him. his gaze was soft as he peered over your shoulder, squeezing you between both arms.

“what?” you croaked, and he leaned over you to press a kiss to your cheek, squishing you into the bed.

“what’s wrong?” he repeated, thumb drawing circles against your clothed tummy.

“nothing,” you said, and he made a low noise of disapproval, pressing his face against the side of your head.

clutching at his arms holding your waist, caging you to him, you choked out the words. 

“i just…” you turned your head from him, tears spilling from your eyes and onto the sheets. “i wanna be good for you.”

he hummed against your ear, squeezing you tighter. “you are so good for me, love.”

“no, i meant…” you huffed, sniffling with a frustrated sound in the back of your throat.

“i take too long,” you squeaked, avoiding his eyes. “there’s something wrong with me.”

a sob pierced your chest. “i think i’m broken.”

you turned in his arms and buried your face in his chest, embarrassed as you soaked his shirt with tears, muffled the sharp noises of your throat against his solid body. he curled around you, hand rubbing down your back.

“who put those ideas in your pretty head?”

his voice was deceptively soft, though you heard the threat that lay under it, and you shivered.

“my ex boyfriend.”

his body went tense against you.

“look at me luvie.”

you lifted your head and let him kiss you, tasting salty and sweet from the slick of you still in his mouth, as he brushed away the tears on your face.

when he pulled back and you looked over the curves of his face, the depth of his dark eyes, you admitted to him softly, “i don’t want you to leave me.”

it was such a small whimper that you don’t think he would’ve heard you, but from the way his face crunched into a frown you knew that he had.

“m’not going anywhere,” he promised, pushing the hair from your forehead. “m’right here.”

you whimpered, pulling him back down for a kiss that was wet and hot, teeth knocking against yours when he pressed you further into the bed.

“lemme make you feel good,” he whispered, and you clutched at his arm wound tight around your waist, the other creeping up to cup your breast.

“please,” you whimpered, and he hummed into your lips.

“when’s the last time you touched yourself?” he asked, lips trailing down to your neck, his large hand edging down to brush over your pelvis.

“long time,” you squeaked, gasping when his hand snuck beneath your dress, rucking it up so it pooled around your waist.

“c-can’t do it myself,” you admitted, screwing your eyes shut when his fingers slipped beneath the band of your panties. “doesn’t feel good.”

“yeah? bet your ex couldn’t make you feel good either,” he mumbled, either to you or yourself you couldn’t tell, mind dizzy and somewhere up high when his forefinger gently brushed over the shell of your clit. “bet your he didn’t even know how to touch a woman. how to make her cum.”

you whimpered, hips bucking into his hand, and you could feel him smile against your neck.

“s’okay, baby. i’ll make you cum.”

his fingers circled your swollen clit, other hand fondling the sensitive plush of your tits. as you squirmed against his touch, little breathy noises leaving your lips, you could feel his hard cock pressing into the curve of your ass. you whimpered at the sheer size of it.

“please, Simon,” you gasped, clutching at his wrist as he played and flicked at your clit, speeding up then slowing down and dragging you through a slew of different body wracking sensations, leaving you so whiney and sensitive that your thighs started to shake and twitch.

your ex boyfriend had never given you so much attention like this—just honing in on his own pleasure, degrading you when you tried to chase your own. it became something you dreaded. something you didn’t want and forced yourself through, faking orgasms and artificial, pitched moans.

it was so different from Simon that you felt delirious, blissed out as real, loud whines broke through your throat, riding his hand just wanting more and more.

“more,” you sobbed, burying your face into the sheets, jolting when he played and pinched at your swollen nipples.

“want you to cum on my hand first, sweet thing,” he whispered, and you almost cried real tears.

he huffed a laugh into your ear.

“feel that good?” he cooed, and you nodded against the sheets, wiggling your hips in his hand.

“c-can’t,” you whined, shivering when he made a noise of disapproval.

“yes you can,” he said, low and throaty, licking over your ear. “i don’t care how long it takes, baby. i can play with this pretty cunt all night.”

you moaned, grinding down into his hand, eyes rolling back into your head as he abused your clit, crushing it beneath his fingers.

“you’re gonna cum on my hand, and then i’m gonna stretch you out with my fingers, yeah? then you’re gonna cum on my fingers, and i’m gonna fuck two more orgasms out of you. how does that sound, sweet thing?”

“Simon—” you choked, whole body going still when you finally reached a sharp peak, shaking and twitching and moaning softly through your whole orgasm that made you see a blinding white.

he groaned in your ear, so filled with pleasure it sounded like he came alongside you.

“there you go, baby, good girl. so good f’me.”

your hearing felt muffled when you resurfaced, blinking your eyes open, sleepy and muscles lax against the bed. he was petting at your naval, peppering little kisses and kitten licks along your neck and shoulders.

“see? that wasn’t so hard, luvie,” he whispered in your ear, making a shiver slither down your spine.

“mhmm,” was all you could get out, pliable as he slipped from your side and moved you to your back, tipping your knees open as he dove between your legs.

you looked down, watching him drink up the cum from your pussy, slurping loudly and sucking on your twitchy clit, your hips squirming in his hold. 

“so sweet,” he practically growled, and you whined in response, trying to push his head away.

when he finally relented, he sat back, licking over his lips before tugging the shirt over his head. in the dim lighting, you could see scars littered over him, naval blessed with dark hair and a toned stomach that made your mouth water.

“think you can do that four more times, baby?”

when you shook your head, he only smirked, crawling back over you and pressing the crotch of his fatigues against your sopping pussy, grinding his painfully hard, big cock against your aching entrance.

“yes you can,” he said, low and throaty. “m’gonna make you, sweet thing. you’re gonna be coming on this cock all night long.”

taglist: @ivybeeloved

[nrdmssgs]

Kissing König on the forehead

Masterlist Kissing Ghost on the forehead Kissing Price on the forehead

TW: mentions of social anxiety

His life consists of you. Literally: you have become the measure of everything. There are no more 'Fridays' or 'Novembers' - there are days, weeks and months, until he sees you again. No more rooms in his house - there is a wall to which he pressed his back, giving you more space to pass by, when he first saw you. There is a stove where you burned your fingers, making his heart ache when he saw your tears for the first time. There is a window, by which he fell on his knees and frantically stroked and kissed your hands, after he heard your timid confession. Anything beautiful he witnessed, anything meaningful he heard or read, made sense, only when he thought, how would he share it with you.

König knows, It's too much, his eagerness to be by your side constantly, his hunger for your touch, his feelings - he is too much. And he is afraid, so terribly and utterly afraid, that one day you see it too and leave him. So he restrains himself, tries to be less vocal, clasps his hands around his elbows to not hug you every minute, he is around. König carefully plans every conversation, you two will have, when he is back from deployment. Sometimes these imaginary chats end good, other times - you yell at him, but what is even worse - you cry. Your tears, even ones, he imagines pain him so badly - he immediately takes out his phone and texts you.

"I am so sorry, Schatz."

He snaps back to reality only when he gets your worried answer. Of course, you get scared and want to know, what happened. So he has to come up with some excuse.

"I am sorry for not being right now with you. I know, it's evening back at home, and you are probably watching some show, and I remember, how you like cuddling, while doing it. I'm sorry for not being there."

König finally puts the phone away, hissing at himself for this episode.

When he finally returns, you refuse to wait for him at home and come straight to the station. He allows himself to squeeze you in his arms, but deep inside his head, König counts. "One-two-three-four-five-it's time to let her go, you can't just stand there and embarrass her with your tenderness in front of everyone. You are becoming too much once again."

You interrupt his inner tirade. "Let's go home, love."

An entrance door shuts behind his back, and he finally takes a deep breath in, feeling the familiar scents of your shared house. König hears some strange repeating noise, lowers his eyes and notices that you are immersed in the fight with a jamming zipper on your jacket. On the very next moment, he kneels before you, moves your hands away from the zipper and tries to figure it out himself. It takes him a while, because he is afraid to pull too hard, finally destroying the jacket. You look at him warmly and laugh softly. "König don't worry, I can handle it."

At that moment, zipper finally breaks. König frowns.

"You couldn't just mind your business, you idiot? Now she is going to finally see, how overwhelming you are, how you break everything, you care for, how you smother those, who you love. Is that what you wanted?" An angry voice inside his head shouts and silences everything around, including König himself. He doesn't feel his lips starting to tremble, forming some apologetic mumbling. He doesn't hear, when you try to reassure him.

So you take a quick step forward, and embrace him, pressing your lips against his forehead. Maybe that angry voice exists only in his head, but it's not the first time, you witness König tearing himself apart for no reason.

"You are overthinking again, love. But its going to be ok, I promise." Another kiss on his forehead.

"You are not overwhelming to be with, you are not annoying. No." By this time, you know all the terrifying things König's mind whispers and shouts to itself.

"No one is going to get tired and leave you. Especially not me." You kiss his closed eyes, not caring for remains of dark camouflage paint on his skin.

"You are overthinking, and it is ok, because it shows, that you really care. It's not your fault." You press your lips against his face, so that he not only hears, but also feels, what you are saying.

And that silents Königs anxiety and self-doubt. He suddenly feels tired, but endlessly loved. He finally comes back home, pulling you into a long and tight embrace, not counting seconds this time.

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Seven-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktov. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Violence, Aggression, Blood, Slapping, Slight Masochism, Sexual Aggression, WeaponizingEnzoBerkshire(im sorry?), Fingering, DARK THEMES.

***FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Rowena, render me resilient." You huffed, mumbling to yourself while pulling your infuriated corpse out of the creaky wooden chair in the empty potions classroom. "I'm going to fucking kill that boy."

Mattheo was thirty minutes late. Thirty. Three. Zero.

At first, you dismissed his tardiness, convincing yourself it was just another instance of his habitual delay--and in those initial ten minutes, you buried yourself in your homework, trying to maintain an air of indifference. But as the clock ticked away, another ten minutes, then another five, your patience wore thin, your nerves splintering with palpable annoyance. From that point on, each passing second seemed to echo with the ghost of his absence, amplifying your frustration.

The room seemed to close in on you as you stared at the clock, wondering why he would brush you off so callously when he damn-well knew he was the only fucking reason you were there, in that classroom, in the bloody first place.

The single-minded focus on confronting Mattheo propelled you forward, urging you to swing open the creaky wooden door with a determined force. As you stepped into the eerie, freezing corridor of the dungeons, your resolve transformed into a palpable energy, driving you forward with every purposeful stride. The anticipation of the impending confrontation overshadowed any trepidation, making you oblivious to the typical nerves that might have accompanied a situation like this.

As you approached the Slytherin common room, the distant thumping of loud music permeated the heavy door, sending vibrations through the floor beneath your feet. Despite the unfamiliar territory and the intimidating reputation of the Slytherin's domain--which was often veiled in a haze of marijuana smoke and the lingering scent of alcohol--your anger acted as a shield, eclipsing any reservations or second thoughts.

Your frustration boiled over as you banged on the door with a force that reverberated through the wood, echoing your impatience. With each pounding knock, a faint haze of smoke seeped out from the cracks around the door, a telltale sign of the revelry inside--it felt like centuries had past before the door swung open, a thick cloud of smoke billowing out from the bustling common room; and before you could react, a Slytherin student you didn't recognize--tall and imposing, grabbed your arm and yanked you inside, pulling you close to him.

He pressed you against the door as he slammed it shut behind you, his eyes narrowing as he scanned your appearance from head to toe, clearly suspicious of your presence inside his domain.

"Who the hell are you, and what do you think you're doing here?" he demanded, his voice sharp and laced with suspicion. The scent of alcohol mingled with the smoke, adding an acrid edge to the atmosphere as he scrutinized you, waiting for an explanation. "You're out of your bloody depth little Ravenclaw...some nerve-"

You stammered, hardly able to catch your words. "I-I'm Mattheo's tutor...he didn't show up to-"

"Mattheo's tutor, huh?" he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery as he cut you off. "Well, good luck trying to drag him out of this madness on a Friday night. Once he's in, he's in deep, and nobody can rescue him, especially not a helpless little Ravenclaw like you."

His grip on your arm tightened, emphasizing his point, the pressure sending a jolt of pain through your body. Your stomach twisted as you watched his lips curl into a cruel smirk, his blue eyes glinting with sadistic amusement.

"You're better off running along before you get sucked into our world. We Slytherins don't play nice, especially when it comes to parties."

With that, he shoved you away from the door, dismissing you with an irritated flick of his hand, leaving you standing there, caught between frustration and helplessness, engulfed in the suffocating haze of smoke and the pounding rhythm of the music as you attempted to gather yourself. Admittedly, the smell was getting to your head, you pulse pounding in your temples and matching the base of the music. You shot your gaze around the room, in search of any sort of sign that Mattheo was around--but you didn't get very far before you felt movement behind you.

Your heart raced as you spun around, finding yourself surrounded by practically all the boys from the infamous Slytherin Quidditch team, their cold gazes assessing you with a mix of curiosity and arrogance. Draco Malfoy, the groups undeniable leader, sneered at you, his blond hair perfectly styled despite the chaotic atmosphere of the room.

"Well, well, look what we have here, boys," Draco drawled, his tone dripping with superiority. "A lost little Ravenclaw wandering into our house. Did you take a wrong turn on your way to the library, sweetheart?"

You swallowed, your eyes shooting around at each of the men as they circled around you, Theodore Nott and Regulus Black shared a knowing glance, exchanging silent communication that made your skin crawl. Blaise Zabini, the schools best known charmer, stepped closer, his smug smile sending chills down your spine.

"Or perhaps you're here to join the party?" he suggested, his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your skin prickle with discomfort. Lorenzo Berkshire, the powerhouse of the team, folded his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable as he observed you. The room seemed to close in around you, the haze of smoke thickening as their presence suffocated the air.

With every instinct screaming at you to escape, you tried to muster courage. "I-I'm just looking for Mattheo," you stammered, your voice barely audible over the pulsating music. "I'm his tutor, and he was supposed to meet me for a study session...I came to find him."

Theodore smirked, tilting his head as he scrutinized you with a calculating gaze. "I don't recall Mattheo mentioning anything about a tutor," he said, his voice low and edged with suspicion. "Are you sure you're in the right place, Bella?"

"Or, perhaps you're here for something other than tutoring?" Lorenzo said, his voice like a low growl--your nerves multiplying as he took a deliberate step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. "You should know that little birds who dare to venture into the snake's den rarely ever make it out alive..."

Lorenzo's words stirred something inside your chest, your stomach twisting into a knot so tight you thought for sure your intestines were about to explode. The boys, their eyes gleaming with a sinister intent, moved forward with calculated steps, their chuckles weaving through the air like unsettling whispers. They encircled you, a menacing dance of predators closing in on their prey-the glint in their eyes mirroring the sharpness of fangs as they closed the gap, enveloping you in a suffocating sense of dread.

You couldn't help but to be acutely aware of the irony of the situation, you were the helpless little bird ensnared in the midst of hungry snakes--desperate for rescue that you knew would never come--internally freaking the fuck out until you steeled your shoulders, gathering every single last ounce of your courage to meet Enzo's burning gaze head on--a glint of defiance twinkling behind your eyes.

"Little bird, Berkshire?" you taunted, your voice ringing through the room as you took a bold step toward him, your head held high to meet his eyes. "Last time I checked, the Ravenclaw emblem was an Eagle…unless it’s changed without my knowledge…" you continued, your gaze unwavering, watching his jaw clench with irritation. "Do you know what eagles are capable of, Berkshire? Or is that information too elevated for your limited intelligence?"

Lorenzo's lips curled into a contemptuous smile. "Save your Ravenclaw wit for your textbooks, little bird," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "In our den, you're just prey, no matter what emblem you wear."

The boys around you chuckled darkly, their laughter echoing through the room like the hiss of snakes, only fuelling your urge to defend yourself further. Lorenzo took another step forward and you straightened your shoulders.

"Your attempts to wield venom through words mirror your feeble Quidditch endeavors…always falling short of the impact you intend," you sneered, your confidence cutting through the tension. "Perhaps it's time to reevaluate your definition of prey, considering the ones who underestimate tend to fall the hardest."

Lorenzo's nostrils flared, his face turning crimson with rage. "You got quite the mouth on you, little fucking brat," he spat, his voice sharp as a dagger, hand reaching up to grip your jaw, pulling you tight against him--the scent of alcohol flooding your nostrils as his free hand gripped your hip, your mouth parting in complete, paralyzing shock. "You want to fucking say that again, huh?"

The boys surrounding the two of you exchanged uneasy glances, their initial amusement morphing into concern as they realized just how far he was willing to take things. A few of them took cautious steps back, their confidence waning in the face of Lorenzo's escalating rage.

Your voice wavered, a mixture of fear and defiance. "Let go of me."

"Not so tough now, are you?" He chuckled darkly, his grip tightening. "You're bloody pathe-"

Lorenzo's malicious words hung in the air, pregnant with menace, but they were abruptly silenced by a deep, furious rumble that reverberated through the room.

"Berkshire," you recognized that voice. You’d never, ever not recognize that fucking voice. "What the fuck are you doing?"

The resonance of his voice was like a rolling thunder, each syllable echoing off the stone walls and sending tangible shivers down your spine. The very atmosphere seemed to quiver in response, and you could almost feel the raw power of his anger vibrating in the air, setting the entire room on edge. Enzo's eyes widened in alarm, his confident facade crumbling like fragile parchment in the face of Mattheo's wrath.

Slowly turning, Enzo locked eyes with the approaching Riddle, whose gaze blazed with an unyielding fire, and without giving him a chance to react, Mattheo surged forward, his movements swift and deadly. His fist, wrapped in a tempest of rage, found its target in Enzo's jaw with a resounding impact.

The force of the blow sent shockwaves through the room, Enzo's head snapping violently to the side, a spray of crimson erupting from the corner of his lip, painting the air with the evidence of Mattheo's strength--and the room stood still for a moment, suspended in a heartbeat of sheer shock as Enzo stumbled backward, his once-defiant demeanor now entirely shattered.

In the wake of Mattheo's ferocity, the room remained suspended in a tense silence, like a captured breath waiting to be released, the echo of the impact still ringing in your ears. Enzo, once the epitome of arrogance and aggression, now stood stunned, his hand clutching his injured jaw as he struggled to regain his balance. The other boys, previously reveling in their sadistic taunts, stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief at the sudden turn of events.

Mattheo, his chest heaving with restrained fury, stepped forward, his gaze locked onto Enzo.

"Touch her again," he growled, his voice low and menacing, "and I'll make sure you regret every last moment you spend at this fucking school."

Enzo, now visibly shaken, nodded weakly, a mix of fear and humiliation clouding his eyes. Without another word, Mattheo turned his attention to you, his expression softening slightly, concern flickering in his eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentler now, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions that had just erupted in the room. "Did he hurt you?"

Your mind buzzed with a whirlwind of emotions, struggling to process the chaotic events that had just unfolded. Numbly, you shook your head, your hand instinctively reaching up to rub your jaw, still tingling from the force of Enzo's grip.

"No," you said, not daring to meet his eyes. "I'm fine."

With a nod, Mattheo turned, his eyes boring into the remaining onlookers, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. "Enough gawking. Move along," he ordered, his tone laced with steel. "This isn't a show for your fucking amusement."

The intensity in his words sent the spectators scrambling like startled crows, leaving you and Mattheo in the quiet aftermath, the weight of the recent events hanging heavily in the air as he peered down at you with dark eyes.

"You came looking for me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible above the fading echoes of the room. "Thought you'd appreciate a night off from my bullshit."

Your chest seized as you eyed his face--the cut across his nose from yesterday still faintly bleeding, swatches of blood still decorating his jawline and cheekbones--you couldn't deny that this boy was a bloody mess. A cunning, arrogant, complicated fucking mess--but Gods, was he fucking attractive.

"I don't appreciate being blown off without notice, Riddle..." you huffed, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "Not that you could ever relate."

“You’re right, I can’t..I usually get some notice before being blown.” With a slight smirk, he gripped your wrist, meeting your eyes. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

Mattheo's hold on your wrist was firm yet oddly reassuring as he guided you through the chaotic Slytherin common room. The room was a cacophony of laughter, music, and rowdy students, but his presence seemed to part the crowd effortlessly, creating a path for the two of you with ease. The air outside the common room was a welcome relief, free from the suffocating haze of smoke and the overwhelming scent of alcohol. Mattheo didn't release your wrist, his touch lingering, and you found yourself following his lead as he navigated the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts.

Silence settled between you, broken only by the distant echoes of the party behind you. Mattheo's expression was unreadable, his eyes focused ahead, as if he was deep in thought. The tension that had gripped you inside the common room began to dissipate, replaced by a strange sense of calm in his presence. As you walked, you stole glances at his profile--his jawline sharp, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes a stormy mix of emotions.

There was something different about him tonight, something vulnerable beneath his usual composed facade.

As the two of you finally reached the vacant potions room, Mattheo relinquished his hold on your wrist, allowing his fingers to slide away like the fading echo of a melody. He gently pressed open the ancient door of the classroom, and you slowly ventured inside.

Your senses heightened, capturing every subtle nuance of the space. The faint creak of the floorboards beneath your weight, the distant hoot of an owl, and the rustle of leaves against the windowpane merged into a symphony of nocturnal sounds. The anticipation in the air crackled like static electricity, wrapping around you as Mattheo's presence loomed closer, his warmth seeping through the layers of your uniform.

A singular step carried you further into the room, yet your feet rebelled against moving any closer. Your body buzzed with a peculiar blend of apprehension and curiosity, a tingling sensation that crawled beneath your skin. Mattheo's proximity felt palpable, his body brushing against you as he stood just behind, a silent guardian in the obsidian night.

The click of the lock reverberated through the chamber, its sound shattering the silence like a fragile glass.

His words caressed your ear as he spoke, accompanied by the strong scent of whiskey on his breath. "You're a goddamn handful, Raven..."

At the sound of his voice, your lids fluttered involuntarily, warmth creeping down your back, you were beyond thankful that he was behind you and couldn't see your reaction.

Your voice was a breath as it left your lips. "That's funny, coming from you..."

"Touché, princess." He hummed, the vibration massaging your spine. You tensed as his hand brushed your shoulder, pulling your hair back with it. "I'm sorry about Berkshire...he's a real charmer..."

You huffed, shaking your head, dismissing the heat that pooled in your core with each passing moment of his proximity. "Seems like all you Slytherin men are...certainly know how to dish it out, but don't know how to take it, hm?"

His lips curled into a smirk, his tone laced with arrogance. "Oh, we know how to take it, Raven," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I certainly do, anyways..."

Your breath caught in your throat. "I'm not so sure about that, Riddle...my mouth has gotten you going many times now..."

"Fucking right it has..." he growled, lips grazing the sensitive skin on your neck. "But I can handle you...the real question is, can you handle me..."

Your pulse was flying, rocketed somewhere into another galaxy. "Haven't I proved myself yet..."

A low, rumbling chuckle escaped him, reverberating through the room. His warm breath brushed against your skin, sending shivers of anticipation across your flesh. His tongue traced a torturous path up the side of your throat, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hands hovered over your hips, their presence magnetic, hesitating slightly before tightening their grip as if uncertain of your response.

"Not even fucking close, princess..." he purred, his words dripping with desire. "You have a long ways to go still..."

A soft, involuntary sound escaped your lips, your head falling back against his shoulder, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that coursed through you. Resistance seemed futile; you were utterly ensnared in his grasp. He wielded an irresistible power over you, and you had no strength left to resist, even if you wanted to--all you had were words; empty, meaningless words.

"I thought you didn't want to do this anymore," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the hushed breaths between you. "I thought you just wanted me to be your tutor."

Mattheo's grip intensified. "I said a lot of things last night that I didn't mean, Raven..." he murmured against your neck. "I was drunk."

"You're drunk right now, too, Mattheo..." you muttered, unable to hide your amusement. "Bloody hell, you have issues."

"I know...I've gotta work some shit out," his teeth nipped your earlobe, you could practically feel the smirk on his lips. "I'm exercising my demons, Raven, I promise..."

His words hung in the air, laced with desperation and a yearning for understanding, as if he sought solace in your presence but didn't know how to ask for it--with a sharp inhale, your hands found his, and when he loosened his grasp on your hips, you spun around to face him, meeting his dark, penetrating eyes.

Your hands fell to your sides, fingers trembling as your gaze darted from his eyes to his lips, and back to his eyes. "What the fuck do you want from me, Mattheo Riddle..." you whispered. "Give me a solid answer...for once in your bloody-"

"I want you," he cut you off, his hand shifting to cup the side of your face. "...I want you on your knees for me..." his thumb brushed your cheek, his head tilting. "...I want you swallowing my cum..." he wet his lips, leaning closer, "...but most of all, I want you moaning my fucking name until it's the only word that pretty little mouth knows how to say."

Your lips parted, a soft exhale of contentment escaping your throat as he brushed his mouth against yours, stealing every breath from your lungs.

"But…you can't stand me, remember..." you whispered, your voice trembling like fragile glass. "You hate me..."

"Yeah," he huffed, his gaze flickering to your lips. "I hate you."

Your heart thundered against your ribs. "You hate me.”

"Yeah, I fucking hate you," he replied, his eyes simmering with intensity. "Do you hate me?"

"Yes," you responded, the words flowing from your lips like molten lava. You needed no time to think about it, not even a second. "I hate you."

"Yeah?" His eyes darkened, his features glossing over with something that made your stomach twist. "Say it again."

"I hate you, Mattheo Riddle..." you murmured, his lips brushing over yours again, sending electric sparks across your skin while his hand slithered around your lower back, pulling you closer. "I hate you so much."

He gripped your uniform between his fist, a low chuckle leaving his throat, his voice dripping with seductive arrogance. "I don't think I believe you, Raven." He purred, his warm breath caressing your lips. "Maybe you should prove it."

He pressed his lips to yours in one swift, powerful kiss, the intensity of it leaving you breathless. His mouth trailed a scorching path along your jawline, his tousled curls tickling your cheek as his warm breath fanned your skin. Speaking became a struggle amidst the sensations that engulfed you.

"How do you propose I do that?" you managed to breathe out, your voice barely audible over the thundering beat of your heart. His lips moved to your ear, pressing against it with a tantalizing heat.

"Hit me," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

"What?" Your body erupted in an incomprehensible collection of emotions, admittedly taken back by his request. "Why-"

"Hit me," he repeated, voice harsher now. "Just like last night--fucking slap me, Raven...don't be shy, you know I deserve it..."

The intensity behind his words propelled you into action, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Without a moment's hesitation, you inhaled a sharp breath and drew your hand back, the room electrified with anticipation. With swift precision, your palm met his cheek in a sharp, resounding smack--his tousled chocolate curls dancing upon impact, his head jerking to the side.

In the charged aftermath of your slap, a potent silence hung in the air, laden with fervent anticipation. When he smirked, his eyes ablaze with a searing intensity, it felt like a scorching brand against your skin. Undaunted and admittedly more fucking turned on than you'd ever been before, you wound your hand back again--this time, your slap landed with a fiercer impact, a guttural groan escaping his lips as your palm connected with his cheek for the second time.

Before you could register what was happening, his hand gripped a fistful of your hair, his strength surprising you, and he spun you around. With a forceful push, he shoved you against the wall, the impact sending a shiver down your spine. His lips crashed onto yours with a hunger that matched the storm raging within you, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you both.

"You like that, Raven?" He purred, his fingers working to untuck your blouse before slipping underneath the fabric, the sensation of touch sending shivers down your spine. "You like making me fucking hurt, huh?"

"Gods, yes," you gasped, words choked through your breath as his fingers teased your nipple under the fabric of your bra. "You deserve so much more than that."

"That's right," he groaned, arrogance flooding his tone, lips moving like a sin along your neck, igniting your senses. "I'm a piece of shit, aren't I...using you like this...taking you as my little fucking toy when I said I wouldn't..."

A shuddering breath escaped your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair, unable to deny the raw intensity of your desires for even a single fucking second longer.

"Mattheo," you gasped, your voice barely audible, your body amplifying your words as it pressed closer to his, spine arching as he teased your nipple. "Touch me...please, just fucking touch me..."

"There she fucking is...there's my dirty little slut..." Mattheo groaned, low in his throat, teeth sinking into your neck. "Begging for me without even needing to be told...fuck, you learn so quickly, don't you..."

As his hand trailed down your stomach, you let out a shaky breath, feeling the heat of his touch flood through you. The trail of embers he left in his wake had your mind reeling, making it hard to even form coherent thoughts--your heart pounding so hard you were completely fucking certain he could hear it.

"Matty..." you whimpered, his teeth marking your neck, your grip tightening in his hair.

As his fingers slipped under the hem of your skirt and found their way to the mound of your pussy, you couldn't help but arch your back, pressing your hips closer to his hand. The fabric of your thong did little to impede the sensation, and you felt your body responding involuntarily to his touch. Your bodies were pressed tightly against each other, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in rhythm with you.

"Shh," he murmured, hand slipping from your hair and clamping over your lips. "You'll need to be quiet princess...you don't want to get caught like this, do you?"

His body shuddered against yours as you mewled, the vibration sending a wave of pleasure through your limbs. Mattheo pressed himself harder against you, his hardness pressing against your thigh--the sensation sending a jolt of excitement through you, causing you to roll your hips against him in response. You were so fucking far gone now, there was absolutely no saving you. You wanted more of him, all of him, every single inch he wanted to fucking give you.

"Oh my fuck-" Mattheo's voice was a breathless growl as he slipped his fingers under your thong and slid a finger through your soaked slit, your entire body jolting against his--a loose moan reverberating through your chest. "Oh fuck, Raven...you're so fucking wet..."

Breath hitching, engulfed in a deluge of lust, you wriggled against him, lava already flowing out from your centre and through your veins.

"Look at what I fucking do to you..." he pressed your head against the wall, his own head shifting back to meet your eyes. "Who else gets you this fucking wet, huh? Fuck...this little pussy already belongs to me..."

You choked back a moan, stifled under his rough palm as the pad of his finger drew slow circles around your clit, warmth flooding your body. Your hands clutched the fabric of his shirt now, digging in with enough intensity to slice the fabric with your nails. Mattheo growled, watching every ministration of your face under his hand, rubbing faster in response, sending shocks of pleasure through you, your hips bucking.

"That's it...fuck..." he muttered, loosing himself in your eyes, in the heat of your pussy dripping from his touch. "No turning back now, Raven...you're going to fucking cum for me...you're going to make yourself mine..."

Your lids fluttered, body trembling, oxygen fleeing you without hesitation; short, insistent groans escaping your throat, his fingers assailing your stiff nub. You were balancing on your peak, ready to tip over, never knowing pleasure so fucking intense in your entire life.

"Look at me." He hissed. "Look into my fucking eyes as you cum for me."

Every nerve in your body felt electrified, pulsating with a pleasure so intense it was almost painful--chest rolling and head spinning as you met his eyes; drowning in their chocolate intensity. His touch, his gaze, everything about him overwhelmed your senses, plunging you into a euphoria you had never experienced before. You were gone, hardly hearing his words, hardly even conscious, the sensations flowing through you were unlike anything you've ever known. And then, before you had a chance to accept it, white light flashed in front of your vision, blurring your sight, a blissful heat ripping through you and shattering your sanity as you squealed into his palm--Mattheo’s lips parting and his chest heaving as he watched you, not daring to blink, not even daring to breathe.

You became aware how tight you had been holding him, and you quickly released him, a wave of hot shame washing over you. Your hair was sticking to your face, your cheeks tingling.

"Such a good girl," he said, lifting his fingers from your pussy and bringing them to his lips, shoving them past his teeth, holding your stare as he sucked your juices off of them before slowly pulling them out with a pop. "Just getting a taste of what I have to look forward to later."

You exhaled a long, trembling breath--your conscious slowly returning.

“Gods,” you gawked, speechless, body still tingling with the aftershock of your climax. “What are you doing to me, you plague of a boy…”

He chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a malicious smile. “Told you I’d ruin you Raven…” he said. “I may be many things, but a liar isn’t one.”

———————

Here’s eight->

[chaosandmarigolds]

Festival

based on this AMAZING ask!!

“Oi, Olls,” Simon looks down at the skinned arm and then back to the utterly unaffected five-year-old (who just took a rather nasty tumble off the slide). It was an easy back day at the county fair, which for the record he thought was a horrible idea with a five-month old yet Johnny said it would be fun for Oliver and his niece, Jane. Simon tried to get a good look at the wound, covered in dirt and pebbles, “Lad lemme-”

“Dad-dad, I got go- Janie! Wait up!” Oliver snipped in reply, pulling his arm away and trying to take off after his new friend, and he succeeded, taking off to the next ride wait line- where Jane was already standing among the groups of children and teens with the bright red balloon tied to her wrist. 

Of course, he watched the boy run through the crowds and only stood to direct his gaze to Johnny as he stood up, not saying anything but trying to see past the groups to get a good look at the kids- but he could see the red balloon. 

“Think the girls are havin fun?” Johnny asked, leaning onto the stroller. 

To that Simon shrugged looking down to Tess, who was thankfully very much asleep amidst the loud noises, “‘m sure they are.” 

“Shoppin, wine tasting annnn,” Johnny faltered as he thought, looking to the sky as Simon knelt down to fix the baby blanket. Though it was loud and the crowds were bustling it still had a sense of peace about it, small town, small fair but it was enough to make the two kids feel as if they were teleported to the best place on the planet. “An’- gah, Sarah said somethin else, can’t ‘member what though.” 

“Jus gettin dolled up or somethin,” Simon mumbled under his breath and then placed a chaste kiss against the baby’s forehead before standing up to his full height, looking around for the same bright red balloon. 

Only…the balloon was floating away. 

It took about five strides to get from where he had been to the line where Olly and Jane were supposed to be, yet there was a stunning lack of them both. 

He must have called the kid's names twice before Johnny had caught on to what was going on, yet the only thing Simon could think of doing was telling him to go get security, he asked the people if they had seen them- his voice harsh and causing the looks on the parent's face’s to pale. 

He couldn’t find them. 

No one seemed to even see them. 

“A little boy- he’s missin his front tooth, striped shirt with a dinosaur on it.”

   “I’m sorry man, that sounds like every kid I’ve seen today.” 

… 

“Jane,” Ollie said slowly following his friend reluctantly through the corridors of the ‘haunted house’ which they had snuck in through the back, since there was a thirteen-plus age restriction on the attraction, “Janie I reaaaalllly don’t think this is good idea.” 

To that the four-year-old frowns, her pigtails swinging as she looks at him, the blue light and fog doing nothing to ease his fears, “Uncle Johnny always say we got face fears! An you said you are scared of the scary ghosts.”

“Scary is literally in name, Janie!” Ollie countered crossing his arms, “Uncle Johnny and my dad are gonna be mad.” 

Jane shook her head, clawing up on the ladder to reach the main level, “Uncle Johnny doesn’t get mad at me, mum said it’s cus ‘m cute…Uncle Simon might get mad though.” 

Ollie frowned from his spot, looking up at her as she began to disappear from the view, he couldn’t leave her alone, he was older than her and his dad did ask him to look over her. So, he swallowed down his fear and followed behind her, the steam and fog making it a bit hard to see for a moment before he was able to stand up again- the lights dim and red and the floor underneath them seemed to be uneasy, red liquid smeared along the rotted wood and the low groan of something was enough to make him want to cry. 

However Janie was walking forward, so he quickly followed, moving to walk just a bit in front of her- grabbing her hand and doing his best to act brave when in reality he was not. 

Ollie stopped walking when they heard a voice from behind, and he turned to look around for a split second, only for Jane to let out a shrill scream and he turned his head to look ahead again- to only mimic her scream. Shoving her behind himself as what seemed to be a literal monster jumped from behind a barrel. 

“Oh SHIT! CUT IT!!” 

A voice suddenly yelled, and then the monster ripped off the mask, revealing a normal-looking kid, probably sixteen, “Whoa-hey-hey, you guys- JERRY FUCKIN CUT THE LIGHTS.” The kid screamed at the ceiling for a moment for the overhead lights to flicker back on and the noises stopped. 

“Hey,” The kid knelt down to look at the now sobbing children, “Hey, my name is Kyle. How’d ya-oh cmon…it’s okay, I’m not scary.” 

“You-you ghost!” Ollie screamed. 

“No! No, it’s just a costume, ya know on how on halloween you dress up? I’m jus dressing up, I’m not gonna-oh okay, you’re crying…again, okay…” Kyle tried to explain, then looking to his coworker, Margo who was dressed as a zombie, utterly hopeless about the now two screaming and sobbing toddlers.

…

“Called security,” Margo huffs out as she sits down to look at the toddlers, who were much more relaxed once they offered slushies, and she looks to Kyle, “They said two creepy guys said they lost their kids but thought they were lyin.” 

Kyle frowns and leans back in his chair after he and Margo had made a lazy attempt at cleaning off their makeup and explained to the kids it seemed to calm them down, plus the slushies of course. “Hey kiddo, can you tell me your name? So the nice people-

“My dad says to not talk to strangers.” 

Margo gives the kid a look and leans forward on the table, “He’s smart, that’s smart- but we need to-” 

“Margo-” 

“OLIVER.” 

It would be an understatement to say Kyle and Margo picked those kids up within a millisecond, because what they saw were two men that could break them both in half within a second and who did not look like father material walking towards them. 

“That’s my kid.” One of them barked out, pointing to the little boy, who was just happily sipping his slushy. 

Kyle scoffs, “And I’m the fucking king of England.”

To that Margo tried to then play damage control, “Listen, I don’t want to have to call sec-” 

“Uncle Johnny we saw scary ghost!!” The little girl exclaimed happily. 

“See? That’s my niece and the boys mine. Give me my kid.”

Margo and Kyle exchanged looks and then looked to the little boy, who only caught on when he saw the man’s look and he nodded eagerly, messy hair falling in front of his face. 

“That’s Ister Riley he and my mom are married. He’s my dad.”

… 

“I jus wanna be brave ‘ike you Uncle Johnny,” Jane said as they drove home, still sipping her oversized slushie. 

Johnny and Simon had agreed to not mention this, to act like it never happened, for their sake. “I know, princess, an’ yer so so brave.” 

“I no longer scared of ghosts.” Ollie said mindlessly, staring out the window. 

That caught Simon’s attention and he looked back through the rearview mirror, checking on Tess with a quick glance and then to Olliver, “Oi? Yeah?”

“Mmmhm, cause ghosts are jus nice people wearin costumes.”

(annnnyway that's it!! feedback and comments are the easiest way to let me know you liked my work!! thanks to everyone for their support!)

[rainybubbles]

141 coming back to you after a eight months mission

Plus size reader :) !

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC)

G H O S T

-Eight long months, every fiber of his being yearned for a hot shower, his eyes struggled to stay open.

- Yet, it wasn't his shabby apartment that the taxi drove to.

-Simon, buried beneath the Ghost's mask, still held a glimmer of humanity within him, a breath hidden beneath Ghost's blood, death, and violence.

-But on that evening, what he ardently desired was them: their gentleness, their scent, their warmth.

-Like a wild animal slowly tamed by food, he returned to them whenever possible.

-Under the pouring rain, he advanced, hastily thanking the driver, the heavy bags weighing on his shoulders.

-He stepped into the still slumbering pastry shop, and the bell rang.

-And there they appeared.

- Covered in flour, with a pastry cap and apron, they were surprised to find someone there at five in the morning.

-"Simon," they murmured.

-The sound of his name was so sweet, so soothing.

- But he wanted more.

-He wanted them to whisper his name over and over again, filled with desire, until they could only utter it, clouded with pleasure.

-His bags fell to the ground, and his arms enveloped them in an instinctive movement.

- Their hair smelled of sugar and butter, the flour staining their black sweater. Simon wanted more.

-"Y/n"

-" I missed you," they whispered.

-He couldn't bring himself to respond, to admit this longing, but they could sense it.

-His arms didn't let them go.

-"Scone?" they asked.

-"No. "

-"Muffin?"

- "No."

-" Croissant?"

- "You," he finally said.

A silence stretched between them.

-"I have to finish my batch, I open in an hour. Do you think you can wait?"

-No, he couldn't. But reason prevailed, and he nodded.

-"I'll help you," he murmured.

-"You barely know how to fold a dough."

-"I can follow orders."

-"Sorry, soldier."

-Their laughter echoed, and a sense of relief washed over him.

- He wanted to hear that sound again and again.

- In silence, they worked. Simon followed every move, ignoring the pain, stretching each muscle. He was ready for anything.

-When the last batch was ready and the saleswoman arrived, Simon breathed a sigh of relief.

-Y/n gave their final instructions and left.

-Alone on the street, they walked together.

-Like a starving beast, Simon jumped at every crumb of affection, grabbing their hand, his fingers brushing theirs through gloves.

-"We need to talk, don't we?" they finally admitted.

-"Yes," he replied.

- "About what happened before your deployment…"

-The kiss. A hurried kiss, without thought.

- Lips so soft, erasing the bad news of his deployment and eight long months of silence.

-"I… "

-'Don't say you regret it," he finally said.

-"No, I don't. I mean it. But I don't want it to destroy us."

-"It won't."

-"I know you avoid people, Simon. Attachment."

-"Yes."

-But not them, he thought

- Since the moment his feet led him to that pastry shop. Simon knew he was doomed.

- A stupid cake for Soap's nephew, and he found himself charmed by a baker making incredible scones.

-Simon had become a regular there, a man of habit enjoying the good things, he told himself.

- It was close, he said.

-Close to his shabby apartment, to his gym.

-Just a daily stop for coffee and scones, he reasoned.

- But every morning, his eager eyes searched for their silhouette.

-Their rolls, their belly, their thighs, that smile.

- Every crumb he could get, he took.

-They eventually noticed him.

-A mountain of muscles, hidden by a mask, softened by scones, it wasn't the most discreet.

-They greeted him.

-Always the first customer at dawn.

-In reality, Simon came so early out of military habit but also to avoid the saleswoman.

-Simon desired the baker, not the small, slim saleswoman.

-Slowly, they spoke to him, and everything fell into place.

- They had become his anchor, an anchor in reality.

- A tough mission, and he came to them silently, without needing to place an order, without having to face the crowd, slipping to the back and watching them work.

-No questions, just comfort.

-The smell of sugar, flour, and eggs permeated his clothes in the most exquisite way.

-And now he dreamed of a life where this scent would be constant.

-"I don't want us to drift apart," they said.

-"We won't," he assured them.

-"So, what do we do, Simon?"

-"Kiss me."

-It was a prayer, a barely audible order, a cry for help.

-Slowly his mask fell.

- Their eyes met, hesitant but filled with desire.

-And they kissed him.

- In that dark street, under the pouring rain.

-"Again," he murmured.

-"We have to go back," they said.

- "I don't care about going back," he replied.

- "Simon, you don't want to spend your leave sick."

-"If I stay with you, I do."

-"Idiot."

- "For you."

-Their laughter burst out, and Simon kissed them again to capture it.

-Slowly, they finally arrived at their place.

-Their dog welcomed them, barking happily at Simon. And after eight long months, Simon could finally breathe.

-"I'm home," he murmured.

- "We were waiting for you," they replied.

-Nothing surpassed this feeling, he thought as he kissed them again.

-Simon was a man, and like any man, he had finally found his long-desired home in their arms.

__________

P R I C E

-In an emotionally charged atmosphere, Price let the water flow slowly, carrying away the remnants of blood under his nails.

-After eight long months, he felt like a ship drifting without a course, without a real destination.

-At least that's what he claimed to anyone who would listen, but the ring hanging under his uniform whispered different truths to him.

-Staring at his own reflection, Price read the inscription inside the ring, a name he hadn't uttered in years.

- Like enchanted by a spell whose charm he feared, he hesitated to whisper it again.

-Yet, his heart demanded it.

-He knew it was the longing that drove him.

-Without those eight months, he wouldn't be here, longing desperately to have them back in his arms.

-(It was false; since the divorce was signed, he dreamt of them.)

-Since the day their marriage ended, he had wanted to throw himself at their feet and beg them to come back.

- He desired their warmth, their ridiculous work stories, their cooking, their scent, their fingers, their kisses.

-They were the oasis in the desert of his life, and through negligence, he had let them evaporate.

- It all dated back to before his promotion to captain.

- Back then, he was just a young lieutenant full of ambition, willing to sacrifice anything to obtain that coveted title.

-But the long hours at the office had gradually poisoned his time with them, an absence they had signaled to him, one he had ignored, one he had maintained until everything exploded like a grenade.

-Now, he stood there, on the minefield of his emotional life with a ring they had probably forgotten, longing to hear them say yes once again.

-As he dried himself off, Price settled into his office.

-He told himself it was just simple nostalgia, but the bitter taste of tobacco wasn't enough to distract him, remembering how much they hated that smell. He extinguished his cigar.

-To take his mind off things, he decided to go to the nearest bookstore. A good book would be welcome, he thought.

-"John?"

-That voice, which had haunted him for three years and eight long months of divorce.

-"Y/N."

-It had been so long.

-Too long, he thought, seeing them so different.

- He admired their new haircut, their new clothes. What a lucky man he had been.

-"Yes. Still teaching?"

-"Yes. And you, did you manage to become a captain?"

-"Yes."

-The silence stretched, their eyes avoiding his.

-"But it wasn't worth it," he admitted.

-"Too much work?"

-"Not enough of you"

-"John," they interrupted.

-"I'm not trying to get us back together, far from it. I know it won't happen, but I wanted to be honest with you. I think this divorce has been the biggest failure of my life, and you deserved better than me."

-Hesitantly, they opened their mouth, a mouth he had kissed so many times, one that had shared all their troubles, all their doubts.

-"Thank you, John. But I'm also to blame. I should have told you everything that was going on in my head, everything that wasn't right."

-"You couldn't, when all I listened to were orders."

-"Maybe…"

-"Good person, wrong time, it seems."

-"Nothing prevents us from correcting the timing, right?"

-John raised an eyebrow.

-"It doesn't mean we have to start all over, but… you've been a pillar in my life, John. I missed you. Whether as friends or more, it doesn't matter."

-"Thank you, love," John murmured.

-They approached him, and during this long absence, John could finally feel human warmth again.

-To just be John again, not Captain Price.

-Their hands wrapped around each other.

-They both knew it wouldn't be purely platonic, but like a suspended promise, for now, they would stick to it, hoping that one day the rings would find their respective places again.

-Theirs from their drawer to their finger, and his from his neck to his hand.

-"I missed you."

-"You too. Tell me what I've missed."

-And John could only smile.

-If these eight months of hell, these three years of desert led him back to them, then it was worth it, he decided.

- So when he packed for his next return, the soldiers watched him curiously because for once the captain had a home where he really wanted to be.

_________

S O A P

-Immersed in an ocean of turmoil, Soap returned after eight months of absence, longing to celebrate his return with his family.

-His thoughts, drowned in alcohol and his mother's reprimands, were rocked by the cheery laughter of his nephews and nieces.

-Between the urge to scream and the desire to simply savor their presence, he oscillated.

-When the festivities finally came to an end, he could finally breathe.

-Eight months.

- Alone in his flat, memories flooded in, evoking strategies, bombs, deafening tumult, and lingering smells.

-Everything was an attempt at distraction; the television, the rain, a run, a cup of tea, messages on his mobile.

-He longed for something, even if he didn't know exactly what.

-But it was missing, creeping under his skin little by little, scratching at the door of his mind.

-"Again, really?'

-His eyes fell on his neighbour.

-The same one who had endured his screams at three in the morning, his hurried departures on missions, his heavy suitcases dragged at seven in the morning.

- And now, at four o'clock, they stood before him, a mischievous gleam in their eyes, the result of an incident involving dumbbells in his hands.

-"Sorry.", he apologized.

-"I'm starting to think you're doing it on purpose."

-"On purpose…? "He raised an eyebrow.

-"So that we see each other. You know, like in those cliché romances where the noisy neighbour ends up seducin' the complainin' neighbour."

-Incredulous, he couldn't help but laugh.

-"Ye wouldn't need that."

-A teasing smile stretched across his neighbour's lips.

-"I know. But you seem to need it. Not an adventure, but a distraction."

-They referred to the dumbbells.

-"Aye."

-"I make cookies." they said.

-"At 4 a.m.?"

-"I know how to keep myself busy in silence."

-"…"

-"Interested?" they asked.

-The latent feeling under Soap's skin resurfaced.

-He nodded and followed them. And then he realized.

-The warm atmosphere, the decor, the unstacked dishes, the soft carpets.

-That's what he had missed, a heaven of peace.

-"They won't be the best cookies in the world, but they'll do."

-"Ah'm good at it." he said.

-"Pastry chef?"

-"Military."

-"Hm, that explains a lot. "They gave him a complicit look.

-"Like what?" Soap asked.

-"This horrible haircut."

Laughter erupted in the kitchen.

-"Ma haircut is incredible."

-"For a 6-year-old."

-"Ah look handsome with it."

-"Even without it."they said.

-"Good at flirtin'?"he asked.

-"With the right person, yes."

-Soap smiled.

-"Ye would be bonnie with a mohawk."

-"No thanks. But, well, I understand the muscles and the irregular movements now."

-"Aye, Ah don't choose my hours."

-Too bad, you'd think criminals can't be punctual, huh? "they joked.

-He smiled.

-"Exactly."

-Hands in the dough, Soap couldn't help but let his gaze drift over his neighbour's curves.

-He admitted that sometimes his door slammed a little louder in the hope of catching a glimpse of them, like a good luck charm before a mission.

-Curves he longed to explore, letting the eight long months fade from his memory to be replaced by love for them.

-"Ah should hae made more noise if it means havin' cookies."

-His neighbour smiled.

-"Maybe. I was worried about this silence, you know."

Soap felt touched by their concern.

-"Ah'm sorry."

-"Don't apologize, you didn't decide on that. It's just… maybe I could give you my number? If you ever have plants or stuff like that, I'll take care of them."

-"Okay." he acquiesced.

-He took the paper feverishly, keeping it as a precious treasure, and continued cooking.

-At the end of that day, returning home, Soap could finally close his eyes.

-The creeping feeling had come to an end.

-That longing, that emptiness, it was them, the sound of a life together.

-He brushed the paper, a smile on his lips.

-Getting up, he decided to drop a dumbbell loudly.

- A noise at his door rang out, and he smiled. Nothing was worth his neighbour.

-So slowly he opened the door, and dinner followed to apologize.

-Then another to repay.

-And slowly, they erased from his mind the eight long months that had haunted him.

G A Z

-After eight long months of absence, Gaz finally found a moment of respite in his humble accommodation on the base.

-The deafening noises of the base's incessant activity, the hurried faces, the soldiers' rushed departures, everything seemed to dissolve into a chaos filling his ears.

-Everything seemed to fade away as soon as he could cross the threshold of his room.

-Here, in this haven of tranquility, he could finally silence the external turmoil.

-His pulse slightly quickened as he reached for his phone, his fingers instinctively finding his favorite contact: them.

- He felt this visceral need to reassure them, to feel their presence through the voice that was so dear to him.

-In this suspended moment, he longed to hear nothing but their soothing breath, to lose himself in their tender words.

-His ears buzzed, every beep deafening his eardrums and…

-"Hello?"

-"Y/N," he murmured, relieved and tender.

-The echo of their voice provided him with a welcome comfort, a balm for his weary soul.

-"Kyle. Back among us?"

-"Yes, I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you."

-"No, I'm on break. I have a shift tonight."

-A silence stretched.

-"Is everything alright?"

-Kyle hesitated before speaking.

-Is everything alright? The blood, the bruises, the cries, the deaths… Everything seemed to still be on his skin, vivid in his mind.

-"I don't know," he admitted.

-"You didn't break an arm, did you?"

-Kyle smiled at the memory.

-After a rough mission he had rushed to his flat ignoring the pain in his arm and the medics.

-Yet he ended up to E.R days later with a blue arm and broken bone.

-Y/n was one of the nurse who was in charge of him and his cast, they kept contact.

-"No, I don't know how I managed to cope without hearing from you."

-"Charming," they laughed at his attempt at flirting.

-"Maybe."

-"More seriously?"

-"Tired," he admitted.

-"I would tell you to sleep, but I imagine you don't want to."

-"I can't."

-Not when he knew the nightmares awaiting him.

-"…I finish at 1am, if ever. I'm not implying anything, I know your base is super far, but I know that company can help."

-"Hmm, I don't know, will there be food?"

-"My company isn't enough for you, Kyle?" they joked.

-"I fear not."

-"Damn," they exclaimed, laughing.

-Ah, there it was.

-A tender smile stretched across Gaz's lips.

- In this exchange, he found comfort, a precious connection.

-His body relaxed slightly.

-"I missed you," they confessed.

-"You too."

-"You know, I bought those awful biscuits you talked about so much, hoping you'd come eat them at my place."

-"I'll take it as a declaration at this rate."

-"Shut up, I know you'd never buy them because 'no time'."

-"I like speed."

-"Even in bed?"

-A mischievous smile formed on his lips.

-"That's for you to find out."

-"You always say that."

-"I mean it."

-"About?"

-"Us."

-"Kyle…"

-"I know, after eight months of absence, it might just be the longing speaking, but… the only thing I wanted was you. Coming back to you, holding you in my arms, making you laugh one last time. And… staying friends… it's worse."

-"Worse than eight months without me?" -"Yes."

-"You're horrible for doing this."

-"I know."

-"At a distance, over the phone. I can't… I can't guess anything."

-"I guess I'm a coward."

-"Shut up, I… I swear I'm going to hit you and then kiss you."

-"Kiss me?"

-"Of course, do you really think I answer all your calls at any time out of friendship?"

-"Y/N…"

-"Last time there was an eight-hour time difference."

-"You told me…"

-"That there were only two, yes, because… I didn't want you to worry. You're a stubborn idiot always thinking of others, so I wanted to be selfish for once that you are."

-"I am. I want you, Y/n."

-"Then come get me."

-Kyle smiled and hung up.

- In his car, stress, fear, adrenaline surged. But for once, the enemy wasn't to be fought.

-Once in front of the hospital, hours of driving later, he stood at the entrance and saw them come out.

-Their name spoken from their lips, and he embraced them.

-"Never again," they whispered.

-"I can't promise anything, but I'll try."

-"I swear I'll kick Price's ass if he does that again."

-"I'll help you."

-"Promise?"

-"Promise."

-And he kissed them.

-Suddenly the eight long months evaporated on Y/n's couch, his fingers sliding through their hair, and his lips on theirs.

-The silence returned and Kyle could finally breathe.

If you want more : my masterlist

[hazelsmirrorball]

Roses | Oscar Piastri

SUMMARY: After Rumors go around that Oscar was a ghost boyfriend he decides to show up for his ex girlfriend most important night FACE CLAIM: Lola Tung pairings: Actress! Reader x Oscar Piastri

via twitter!

yn via insta stories! oscarpiastri via insta stories

posted five minutes ago deleted five minutes ago

yn via instagram

liked by ybffs_instagram, olivia.rodrigo, landonorris and 1,230,340 others

yourusername Life recently ever since I decided to be happy

tagged: ybffs_instagram, davidiancono

view all comments

user101 the shade? mother leaves for six months and comes back in her reputation era. Love that for her.

user10 I feel that lando liking this post means so much more than just a like

user151 Y/n doesn't follow Oscar anymore. Help.

davidiancono TEAM CAM CAMERON

ybffs_instagram girl finally ur back

olivia.rodrigo I missed you so so much.

user590 I'm sorry but this being post not even after an hour of Oscar deleted story makes me go insane.

user191 they are not broken up! Talk to the hand

y/nandoscarupdates via instagram.

liked by by ybffs_instagram,user178 and 1,000 more.

y/nandoscarupdates a close source to the couple informed us that Oscar Piastri and Y/n L/n have called it quits. They've been broken up for around two months now. Sources say that Oscar and Y/n couldn't make time to see each other due to their busy schedules.

view all comments

user10 is the close source y/bff/n? because I think she just e3xposed herself by liking this post

user15 im sorry but didn't y-n go to every single race Oscar had last season? I never once saw Oscar showing up to her things.

user192 I think you guys are siding with Oscar because my girl was always alone in premiers while Oscar always had her by his side.

y/nupdates just posted

liked by user101, user15, oscarpiastri and 178,000 others.

y/nupdates what we are not going to do is hate on this poor girl. I'm sorry but I don't think that updates account is correct. Y/n was noting but supportive in the relationship, I truly believe she went to everything she could. Oscar on the other hand....when did we see him in one of her events? Im sorry but the support wasn't mutual.

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user13 touch some grass. you are acting as if you were also in the relationship.

user16 Oscar liked? what does this even mean?

user98 what does this add to their lore

yn via instagram

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 1,345, 569 others

yourusername Opening night for Hadestown! Forever grateful of giving Eurydice life.

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user134 Oscar liking this? guys I need peace

user126 omg! im so so proud of you

user928 our girl is taking broadway by storm

oscarpiastri as they say in theater break a leg

landonorris what is Oscar doing here?

user119 lando wants to start drama

...

Y/n paced back and forth in her dressing room, her nerves taking up her complete body. It was her first show in broadway. She knew they were going to be critics watching her every move. It was different from anything she had ever done before. Yes, she had acted and she did musical theater when she was in highschool but this was something completely different. This wasn’t a school production, this was an actual professional thing that could affect her career. She stopped in front of her dressing room mirror forcing a smile. It was her opening night and sadly none of her close friends were able to show up, different countries or schedules made it hard for them to show up, which she completely understood. But maybe a familiar face in the crowd could ease her nerves. A soft knock on the door stopped her train of thought. She quickly turned her head toward the door watching the assistant manager peak her head through. 

“Hi Y/n! Sorry for interrupting, You have a visitor that wanted to see you before the show started. Since you didn’t specifically put anyone in your visitor list, I wanted to see if it was okay.” She said quickly, knowing her duties she had a lot of things on her plate and the thing she least needed to worry about was about her visitors. Y/n quickly shook her head, not even asking who the “surprise visitor" was to cut their conversation short. She quickly left and a few seconds later a familiar face smiled shyly your way. Your eyes wandered over his body failing on the red flowers he was gripping tightly. 

“Oscar, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Australia?” She asked furrowing her eyebrows confused as she didn’t want to get closer to him afraid that he was an act of her imagination. 

“I couldn’t miss your special day, Y/n. I know we aren’t together anymore but you were always by my side in my important days. Even my less important ones. I wanted to support you, I know how important this is for you. So I wanted to see you on your first ever broadway show but if you want, I can leave.” Oscar replied while extending the flowers as you pulled him closely into a bone crushing hug.

yn via insta stories! oscarpiastri via insta stories

[7s3ven]

NOBODY’S SON, NOBODY’S DAUGHTER. luke (pjo) pt 3

PART 1 > PART 2 > PART 3 > PART 4 (last pt)

( masterlist )

IN WHICH… being the boyfriend of Zeus’ daughter is easy for Luke but their relationship is tested when a new arrival has his eyes set on someone in particular; Y/N.

“You’re in the wind, I’m in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.”

Warnings : Luke ain’t gonna betray anyone this time, don’t worry, not following plot, communication problems, relationship problems, Y/N and Luke are little rocky together, a little bit of angst

—

TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbaby @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree

—

Life was good for Luke. He was still the most respected swordsman at camp, the Hermes cabin was as energetic as ever, and he had been dating his longtime crush for months now. Everything was perfect.

“Hey Sparky.” Luke said as he walked into Y/N’s cabin without a second thought. She was still lying in bed, glaring at him with her E/C eyes that he loved so much.

“It’s six in the morning. Get out or be quiet.” Y/N waved him off but he was persistent.

“You promised to train with me.” Luke frowned, hurrying over to kneel beside Y/N’s bed.

“Tomorrow.” She muttered, closing her eyes so she could sneak in a moment more of sleep.

“You said that yesterday. And the day before. At least hold my water bottle!”

Y/N couldn’t resist Luke when he looked at her with those puppy eyes. Eventually, she found herself standing in the centre of the arena dressed in loosely fitting armour and holding a heavy sword. “I never agreed to this.” She muttered, furrowing her eyebrows.

She wasn’t even fully dressed, still in her pjs under the armour, while Luke was ready to go. He took a huge gulp of cold water from his bottle, grinning.

“Just one round, Sparky. Fight me like you mean it and I’ll let you sit out.”

But fighting Luke was never an easy feat. Five minutes later, Y/N was still locked in a complicated battle with her brown-haired sweetheart.

“Slow down, will you? I just woke up.” She muttered, sloppily blocking a blow that was aimed at her chest. Luke merely chuckled, swinging his weapon even faster.

“Sorry, Sparky. But I’ve got to train somehow.”

“By almost maiming your girlfriend?!” Y/N exclaimed as she ducked. She quickly rolled across the ground and stood up behind Luke.

“Yeah. Something like that.” He sent her a mischievous wink as he spun around, metal clashing against metal. Y/N scoffed, kicking his ankles. She liked to play dirty. In one of their first capture the flag matches, Y/N had bit Luke. And had drawn blood. That was the start to their close relationship.

“I’m tired, Luke.” She complained, slouching. “Let me rest.” Despite wanting to continue training, Luke let Y/N off easy. He knew he wouldn’t get another mock fight out of her in this state. She happily skipped over to the bench, lying down on it.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Luke’s lips as he stared at Y/N. Her head suddenly turned and Luke bashfully looked away. Nothing could make him shy… nothing but Y/N. She laughed at him, knowing the effect she had on Luke.

“I’m going to change. And maybe get some last-minute sleep. You wanna come or are you gonna stay here and train?” Y/N raised her eyebrows as she took her armor off. Luke was quick to drop his sword and unbuckle his chest-plate.

“I’ll come with.” He said. Y/N muffled her laughter and simply knocked Luke to the side with her hip.

“New kids sure are pouring in.” Y/N mumbled. Just yesterday, another boy had arrived. He was around Y/N and Luke’s age, which was uncommon for newcomers. How had he managed to avoid the monsters for so long?

“Remember when that girl tried flirting with me last week?” Luke asked, chuckling to himself. Y/N quietly snickered as she nodded her head.

Just last week, a new girl had began flirting with Luke. People tried to warn her but she didn’t listen. Y/N hadn’t even stepped out of her cabin before Clarisse pinned the newbie to the cold ground and forced her to stay away from Luke.

“Clarisse sure is working hard to prevent anybody interested from approaching us.” Y/N found it amusing because Clarisse never cared about couples until Y/N and Luke started dating.

“So. You up for training again tomorrow?” Luke questioned, changing the topic. Y/N playfully scoffed.

“Luke, you know your my second favourite boy… but no.” Y/N didn’t know how many more late nights and early mornings she could take.

“Second? Who’s first?” Luke sped up slightly, furrowing his eyebrows at Y/N.

“Percy.” She shrugged, “Sorry, Luke, but he’s a better breakfast buddy. And he doesn’t wake me up at the crack of dawn.”

Luke lightly pouted. He knew Y/N was joking but there was no way Percy was ranked above him. “I won’t wake you up early anymore.” He uttered, making Y/N pause.

“I guess I’ll have to change my list then. Percy’s been demoted to number two.”

Immediately, Luke’s eyes lit up. If he were a dog, his tail would’ve been wagging back and forth. Luke opened the cabin door, letting Y/N walk in first before he followed.

“We still have an hour before breakfast so Luke, don’t disturb me. Do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t wake me up.” Y/N sternly pointed at him and he mockingly saluted.

“Yes, ma’am.”

While Y/N lay down, Luke resorted to looking around the cabin. There wasn’t anything of significant interest apart from the closet shoved into a deserted corner, which Luke ignored. The last time he opened a mysterious closet, he was dragged into it. Of course, it was a prank meant for an Athena kid but they were too smart to fall for it. Especially when said closet was placed in the middle of a flower field.

Luke looked at Y/N, who was already sound asleep. He smiled, creeping over to the side of the bed. He found peaceful solitude in tracing his eyes over Y/N’s soft features. He would’ve stared at her for hours if she didn’t groggily wake up five minutes later.

“You’re distracting.” She groaned, glaring at Luke.

“I’m not even doing anything this time, Sparky!” Of course, as Y/N’s boyfriend plus friend, it was his job to annoy her. “How am I distracting?”

“Your staring is distracting. Come over here.” Y/N motioned to the spot beside her on the unusually large bed. Luke gleefully climbed in, immediately hugging Y/N. He was as affectionate as ever, even more so now that they were officially together.

Y/N hummed as Luke tilted her chin up, lightly kissing her. “Luke.” She mumbled against his lips, “I wanna sleep.”

“Five more minutes.” He uttered those famous words.

“Sleep now, act like a couple later.” Y/N pulled away, lying down on Luke’s chest. She closed her eyes, sighing deeply.

“Can I come with you when you teach the newbies to sword fight? I’m in the mood for watching you pummel them.”

Luke chuckled, hugging Y/N even tighter. “Sure, Sparky. I’ll try not to embarrass myself too much.”

Y/N sat on the bench, beaming at Luke. His eyes remained glued to her despite one of the younger kids tripping over their own feet.

“Hey, you’re Y/N, right?”

She almost jumped when someone sat beside her. Suddenly, Luke’s face shifted. Y/N turned her head, glancing at the boy beside her.

“Oh. Yeah. Um, you’re one of the new kids, right?” Y/N questioned, tilting her head to the side.

“Yeah. I just got here yesterday. I’m honestly still a little confused so it’d be great if you could show me around.” He smiled, showing off his pearly white teeth.

“I guess I could try? I’m a little busy because of my duties as head counsellor. By default, of course. Because I’m the only one in my cabin.”

“Oh, who’s your godly parent?”

Y/N hesitated for a second before she cleared her throat. “… Zeus.” She wasn’t proud of having him as her father. He was unbearable, especially when he ignored her for so long then proceeded to act as if he hadn’t.

“That’s cool. Can you control lightning or something?”

“Perhaps. Percy has some water powers so maybe it applies to me too.” Y/N shrugged. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Luke excuse himself from the campers across the arena.

Y/N watched him with bated breath as he approached her. “Hey. Is there something wrong with your armour?” He asked the boy beside Y/N. “Because we’re going to start mock fights soon. Clarisse will be monitoring.” Luke jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

“Ah, no. Everything’s good. Don’t worry. My armor’s fine.” The unnamed boy stood up, walking over to the rest of the group.

“What was that for?” Y/N softly asked, “He was only asking for some help.”

“He was flirting, Y/N.” Luke cooly replied, sitting down next to her. “I know guys like that. Their way of flirting is asking for help.”

“You don’t know that, Luke.”

“Yes. I do, Y/N.”

“The overprotective nature was cute at first, Luke. But you can’t assume every guy who talks to me is interested in me.”

“I see the way they look at you. I mean, how could they not? You’re beautiful and kind and great at fighting and on top of that, you’re Zeus daughter.”

“I chose you, Luke. Not any of the other guys desperate for my attention. You think I’m not jealous when I see girls giggling at you? Of course I am. But I know that you’re mine. And you have to know that my heart only belongs to you.”

Luke cracked a small grin. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m sorry, Y/N. I just got jealous.”

“It’s okay, Luke. I’m sorry I called your overprotectiveness annoying. It’s not. I still think it’s cute. I was just caught up in the moment. I guess I just didn’t want to feel helpless. A daughter of Zeus should not be helpless.”

“You aren’t helpless. Whoever thinks that you are needs a major reality check.” Luke shook his head, glancing over at Clarisse. “You wanna get out of here?” He whispered, nudging Y/N.

“I, um, actually agreed to show him around.” Y/N mumbled, pointing over at the boy. Luke pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Okay.” He gently said, nodding his head. “I’ll keep Annabeth company while you show him around. But if he tries anything funny, I will punch him.” Luke warned.

“I know, Luke. I know.” She smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. She was partly hoping that the boy from before saw their interaction so he would put whatever sneaky schemes he had to rest.

“So, let me get this straight, Annabeth found out Percy was Poseidon’s child when Clarisse cornered him in a bathroom… and shoved his head into a toilet?” Y/N raised an eyebrow as she picked another strawberry, placing it in the straw basket Luke was holding.

“Yeah. And then Percy practically attacked her with toilet water.” Luke chuckled to himself as he bit into a strawberry. “Annabeth told me all about it. It was hilarious.”

“Sounds like Percy.” Y/N replied, plucking a few more berries. She handed one to Luke, who took it like a child being given candy.

“So, how was showing that boy around?”

“Well, I thought his name was Alston and it took about two hours for me to realise that his name was actually Allen. He never corrected me so I never knew.”

Luke huffed in amusement as he slung his arm around Y/N’s shoulder. “Sounds like you. Any idea of what cabin he’d gonna be in?”

“Ares.” Y/N immediately answered, taking Luke by surprise. “He’s hungry for power. He has a thirst for it. And he can’t seem to tear his eyes off the Ares kids, it’s like he’s drawn to them. What about you?”

“Good guess. Ares as well for me.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just copying me?”

Their playful banter went on for quite some time. It was normal for the couple to tease and push. That’s how they were before they started dating too.

“Have you ever tried chocolate on strawberries?” Luke asked, picking up another red berry.

“I’m not obsessed with them like you are, Luke.” Y/N was never much of a sugar person. She liked desserts for a certain extent and chocolate wasn’t her favourite like Luke’s was.

“How come I have a cute nickname for you and you don’t have one for me?” Luke questioned, gazing down at Y/N.

“I’m not big on pet names. And I could hardly call Sparky cute. Unless you want to be called messenger boy, don’t push it.”

“I’ll message you my heart.” Luke grinned as he pulled out a slip of paper that was stamped with a red heart.

“What’s this?” Y/N turned it over but Luke stopped her from opening it.

“Read it when I’m gone otherwise I’ll be too embarrassed. It’s just a little gift for my amazing girlfriend.” Luke quickly kissed her before he hurried off, taking the strawberries with him.

Y/N sat down in a sunny patch and opened the letter, staring at Luke’s neat handwriting. “A love letter…” She whispered, her eyes widening. She has received plenty of love letters before, mostly before she came to Camp, but Luke’s felt special. He was pouring his heart out to her through his inked words and messily drawn hearts.

“Hey Y/N. What ya reading?”

She held back a small scoff as Allen approached her, hands clasped behind her back.

“Something private.” She said, hoping he would get the hint. But he didn’t.

“Is it a love letter? Who still writes those, these days?” Allen plucked the letter from Y/N’s grasp and before she could stop him, he dunked it in a nearby puddle. “Oops.” He merely smirked.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/N seethed, watching as the ink bled out from off the paper and Luke’s beloved words floated away.

“You’ll get another love letter. No need to be so uptight.” Allen laughed, not noticing how Y/N’s vision flashed red with anger. She was never one to get furious but Luke’s gifts meant the world to her.

“Are you crazy? Stupid? Perhaps mentally impaired? Why would you do that? Even if the letter didn’t mean much to me, you have no right to grab it and ruin it!” Y/N stood up, wobbling from side to side. Her body felt unusually heavy.

“It was just a joke, Y/N.” Allen reached out to touch her. He grasped her wrist but was suddenly flung back by an unknown force. As he lifted his hand, he yelped. It had been burnt, and badly. His skin was sizzling and some parts were even charred black.

“Don’t touch me again.” Y/N muttered, storming off. Allen clicked his tongue, watching her leave.

“Crazy bitch.” He muttered under his breath. He went to the infirmary and got his hand patched up before returning to the Hermes cabin.

“Yo, what happened to your hand?” Chris asked almost immediately. Luke’s eyes flickered over to the bandage that was wrapped around Allen’s hand.

“Y/N. The crazy girl went ballistic after her little love letter fell in water. I grabbed her and then she flung me back. I didn’t even know she could do that.” Allen scoffed.

Luke didn’t wait around to hear the rest. He was out of the cabin before Allen could say another word. He burst into Y/N’s room, making an instant beeline for her figure hiding beneath the blankets.

“Go away, Clarisse. I told you, I don’t want to talk.” Y/N said, shifting around.

“It’s not Clarisse, Sparky. What happened? Why’d you burn Allen?”

Y/N slowly slid the covers off her head. “I didn’t mean to. I was so angry that I didn’t know what was happening. He dunked your letter in water, Luke! So I snapped at him and he tried to stop me from leaving by grabbing me. And I don’t know how it happened, but I burnt him and sent him crashing into the strawberry bushes.

“Oh… are the strawberries okay?” Luke furrowed his eyebrows together, concerned.

“Luke,” Y/N glowered at him, “This is about me! Not the strawberries!” She hit his chest. “It’s not like it’s my fault he touched me. He deserved it anyway.”

“I know, Sparky. I know. I’ll take care of him. You just focus on calming down. It’s not your fault. I’ll write you a million letters if you need.” Luke hugged her, pressing a long kiss to the side of her head. She laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Thanks, Luke.” She mumbled, pressing her face deeper into his shirt.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Y/N froze. She stiffly rested in Luke’s embrace, staring blankly at his bright orange shirt. An awkward silence rested between the pair and even though Luke didn’t comment on her lack of response, he still wondered why didn’t she reply?

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair how we’re always fighting against the Hermes and Athena cabin?” Clarisse said as she sharpened her sword. She clicked her tongue.

“It is a little unfair. Annabeth is always one step ahead of us.” Y/N sighed. She clenched her jaw when she spotted Allen walking towards her. “Oh, great. Jerk alert.” She whispered to Clarisse, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll leave you to beat him up.” The Ares girl replied, shoving her way past Allen.

“Y/N. Hey. I just wanna say that I’m sorry. I didn’t know the letter meant that much to you.”

She stared at him, unimpressed. “Okay.” She murmured.

“Okay? That’s it? I apologised to you and all you say is okay?” Allen scoffed.

“Just because you apologised doesn’t mean I forgive you.” Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes in fear they would get stuck. She spent so much time being annoyed with people.

“Do you have to be such a bitch about it?” Allen snapped.

Y/N deeply inhaled. She stiffly smiled at Allen before standing up. “I have to go.” She uttered, brushing past the boy. But just like last time, he grabbed her hand and unfortunately for her, there was no electricity to save her.

“Accept my apology.” He said, gripping her arm so tight he may as well leave a bruise.

“I told you not to touch me.” Y/N tried to pull her arm out of his grasp but he was relentless.

“Leave me alone, okay!” She exclaimed, lifting her other hand and slapping Allen’s check. “Stay away from me, you creep! Honestly!”

Y/N scoffed in disgust, storming off. She went to go find Luke, but she found him on the porch of the Aphrodite cabin, talking to the same girl that tested their relationship before it even started.

Y/N slowly licked her lips and looked away, fidgeting with her hands. She decided to leave Luke alone for now, ignoring the dull ache she felt in her chest.

After months of pure happiness, everything was coming crashing down. And there was nothing Y/N could do to stop it. She sighed, collapsing on her own wooden porch. A new game of capture the flag was going to start soon and she didn’t have time to brood.

“Hey, you good?” Clarisse asked as Y/N slid her helmet over her head and the first conch blew. Y/N simply smiled, nodding over at her best friend.

“Yeah. I’m good. Don’t worry about it, Clari.” She smiled again to reassure Clarisse. She glanced over at Luke and the Aphrodite girl, whose name was Lana. They were laughing together. They had been for the past few days. Y/N didn’t know if it was her or Luke but lately, they hadn’t been talking at all.

Clarisse followed her gaze and pieced everything together. “You can switch positions with someone else.” She offered because they both knew Luke was going to be the one to get the flag. “Today feels like an offence day for you anyway.”

Y/N silently smiled at Clarisse as she switched jobs with one of the Ares kids.

“Thanks, Clari.”

“No problem, baby. If it weren’t for Luke, I might’ve dated you myself.” Clarisse playfully smirked while Y/N laughed.

“If it weren’t for him, I might’ve taken you up on that offer.”

Communication was important in a relationship but for some reason, Y/N and Luke could never talk peacefully. It always turned into argument and one, if not both of them, would turn away hurt.

Y/N was ready to go by the time the second conch blew. Usually, she guarded her team’s flag but today, she was hunting through the woods. Each of her opponents were more surprised than the last to see her because it was always Luke’s job to duel against her. He was really the only one who could beat her.

“We surrender.” The blue leader said, hands help up. Y/N smiled, slinging her spear over her shoulder.

“Easy peasy.” She said to her teammates, who laughed with her. “This might be the quickest game yet. Let’s grab that flag and get outta here.”

Y/N didn’t know who she was expecting to be guarding the blue flag. Maybe Percy or Chris or even Annabeth herself. But not Luke.

He easily disarmed her teammates, leaving Y/N for last. “Rematch, Sparky?” He uttered, mockingly swinging his sword.

“Really? We don’t talk for a few days and that’s all you say?” Y/N replied as she blocked the blow.

“Well, last I recall, you’re always busy with Allen.”

“Not willingly. You know that.”

“What was he doing in the arena with you then?”

Y/N scoffed. “Annoying me. What are you and Lana always talking about?”

“Don’t turn this on me, Sparky.” Luke warned as he stepped to the side, barely avoiding Y/N’s weapon.

“We really need to figure our shit out, Luke. Maybe somewhere that’s not on a battlefield.”

Y/N and Luke were both headstrong and stubborn, which is what made communication so hard in the first place.

“Lana’s only a friend, Y/N. Barely that. I’m only helping her. What do you call Allen?”

“An obnoxious fly.” Y/N whacked Luke in the head, taking him by surprise.

“You seem closer than that. He’s always touching you.”

“And every time he does, I wish I could burn him. Are you sure you aren’t jealous?”

“Are you sure you aren’t? Your eyes are always on Lana.”

“Because she likes you, Luke. And she hasn’t gotten the hint that you’re taken.”

Y/N’s teammates exchanged looks and quietly crawled away from the now private conversation.

“Why don’t you trust me, Y/N? You know I’d never cheat on you.” Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he wiped away beads of sweat with the back of his hand.

“You have to trust me first. Why would I choose Allen over you? That seems like an unfair deal.”

“Maybe you just like the attention. I mean, you didn’t even say you love me back.” Luke shrugged, stepped back to avoid his leg from being slashed by Y/N’s blade.

“I’m not ready for that, Luke! You know what,” Y/N paused gripping her spear tightly. “I’m sick of this. I’m sick of arguing and not trusting each other. A relationship requires trust and despite being friends before all this, we’re doing a lousy job of it. So…”

Y/N pursed her lips as she trailed off. “So, maybe we’re just trying to make something impossible work.”

Luke suddenly froze, realising the small argument was going somewhere he didn’t want it to. “You don’t mean that, Y/N.”

“… I do. Luke, we’ve been avoiding each other and over what? Stupid things. You’re blaming me for talking to guys and I’m getting mad at you for even looking at other girls. Luke, we’re not in a stable relationship. We’re both insecure and there’s no communication between us. Don’t you see it? I think the best thing to do here… is take a break.”

It was silent, save for the chirping birds. In the distance, Y/N could hear Clarisse let out a battle cry. Luke sighed, stepping aside. “Just… take the flag, Y/N. Take it. I don’t care about it anymore.”

“We’re going to talk about this later, Luke.”

“Yeah. I know, Sparky. Just… go.” He heaved another heavy sigh, almost shaking. Y/N gripped the flag, sparing Luke one more glance before she sprinted through the forest.

Luke watched as she not only stole the flag but also his heart with it.

[houseofoddballs]

Fuck it. Trauma bond Ghoap with a forgotten reader because all I can write is angst. Final word count is about 3,700, enjoy! Sorry about the lackluster ending and fair warning that Soap is a bit of a dick and fairly OOC.

Tw: Emptional neglect, light nsfw, mentions of torture. (Tell me if there are any more to add!)

You had never heard of trauma bonding, not before your 6'2 masked boyfriend brought back his Scottish best friend. Ghost was never one to be shy or sheepish, but the way that he bowed his head as he told you that he had fallen in love with Soap during their capture and torture, well, it broke your heart a bit. You thought that was going to be the end of it, that he was going to choose the mowhawked muscle over you (and you couldn't really blame him after the small tidbits about the incident you had heard) but then Ghost dropped to one knee and held your hands in his own as he looked you dead in the eyes and begged you not to make him choose, because he still loved you too. And how were you supposed to turn him down?

So, that's how you ended up living with two discharged military men. At first, things were a little rocky. You and Soap were getting along and getting to know each other after all. You weren't exactly dating Soap, but the threesomes made it hard to understand what exactly you were. Polygamy? It didn't matter, though, because Ghost was the one you loved. Ghost was the man who had stolen your heart and treated it like a golden retriever treats eggs. Gently, softly, sweetly. And you had done your best to do the same.

But Soap? Soap was... different. Where Simon was quiet and calm, Soap was loud and boisterous. Where Simon was introverted and kept to himself, Soap was ambiverted (at best) and loved social media. They were like night and day in a lot of ways, and it made your head spin. Another difference? Soap was SO *clingy*.

It was ok at first. Apparently, Simon and Soap had been captured for nearly a week and took turns watching each other get tortured. In the dead of night, when they got any reprieve, they spent that time whispering sweet words to each other just to keep them level-headed and alive. Trauma bonding. Ghost and Soap were bound to be connected at the hip for at least a bit. Right?

Well, 'just a bit' turned into months. Inseparable. You couldn't get five seconds alone with your boyfriend unless Soap was in the bathroom because he refused to do anything without Ghost.

That would have been OK if you didn't see how much it was wearing on your sweet Simon. Any time you got a minute alone together, he would gently hold your face and apologize to you. Murmur to you with his brows knit up about how exhausting Soap could be and how soothing your quiet company was.

He was burnt-out. No other way to put it. In the fleeting moments you got where you could hold Ghost and do things with him, he was simply exhausted and worn-out from Johnny clinging so tightly to him and making him a part of everything in his life. Simon was definitely an introvert, and hardly ever got time to recharge those batteries on touch and the like.

So what did you do? You gave him space. The time you got to spend alone was spent at a distance, small conversations about the things that interested Ghost, since Soap hardly ever talked about those. You had asked why Johnny was still here if he was really making Ghost so miserable, and all he had told you was that he couldn't leave Johnny, couldn't hurt him. So, you relented and just tried to be supportive. You could be happy like this.

Except you weren't. One can only live on table scraps for so long, but you were willing to try for Ghost, and even for Soap. So when Johnny told Simon that it was irritating how little alone time the two of them got because you were always hanging around and asked him to have a talk with you about it, what did he do? Well, he didn't defend you, that's for sure.

Groceries. How pathetic. Soap finally let you and Ghost get *Groceries* together, just the two of you, and your heart utterly soared. Just you and Simon, for possibly an hour. How long had it been since you could do this? How long had it been since you had even hugged or been hugged by your boyfriend? You had no idea.

But all of that went cold as you finished loading your haul into the trunk. Simon turned to you, dark eyes peeking out from behind his Skull balaclava that he only took off at home. He looked so tired, so exhausted.

"Listen, love... Johnny-..." You froze. Of course, you should have known better. No way Soap would let you and Ghost go somewhere together alone while he just sat at home scrolling through short clips on his phone. Of course, there was a condition, a caviot. But this was Simon, your Ghost, so you heard him out. "Johnny was wondering if you could... give us a bit more space. He feels like he doesn't get enough alone time with me. I'm sorry, love, I promise that I'll make it up to you."

If your heart hadn't sunk into your stomach, you would have had to resist the urge to laugh. Soap wasn't getting enough time with Ghost? The same Soap who had been draining every ounce of willpower out of Ghost until your strong-willed Simon was just complacent? The same Soap who drug Simon wherever he went and whined when you wanted to come with? The same Soap who had kicked you out of your shared room for reasons that you still don't know how he convinced Simon? And yet, he didn't get enough alone time with Simon.

You wanted to scream, to cry, to do or say anything to fight back. But one more look into Simon's weary, amber eyes shut down all of your complaints. He was slowly being worn down, and you didn't know what you could do to help. So, you just nodded.

The entire drive back was silent. At some point, you had reached over and gently held Simon's hand on the center console to let him know that you weren't mad, and he had let you. Your first physical contact with Simon in ages. You helped carry in and put away the groceries, acutely aware of Soaps eyes boring into and watching you for your next move, and then you simply retreated to your room. Alone.

That night, you had to listen as the two made love. Headboard banging against the wall, soft moans permeating through your headphones and into your ears, vibrations buzzing and echoing through the halls. You cred that night, just like so many other nights.

You were being forgotten, forced into invisibility in your own house.

And that's how so many months passed by. With you hiding away in your room and only coming out to eat or eagerly take Johnny's table scraps of Ghost's time. But Ghost hardly ever got any time to himself, so, sometimes you would just let him be and relax. Maybe it was simply time for you to move on.

That's when the texts came. Any time Johnny was gracious enough to give Ghost a moment of peace and you either didn't know or just let him relax, he would text you. "Johnny's still at work." "I miss you, love." "I'm on the couch." "Come see me?"

He was making you feel loved, needed even. Even though most of that time spent was him complaining about Soap, every time he would look at you with those soft brown heart melting eyes and thank you for being so understanding and supportive. He would tell you that he loved you so much and that you didn't know how much having you there kept him sane. And how could you leave him like that?

You wished that you had made Simon choose. Nearly five years of this neglect. Simon was so physically overstimulated by Johnny's constant need to be touching him, that something as small as resting your hand on his thigh made him irritable. Johnny would openly complain about you right in front of you, and Ghost would just sigh and let Johnny think he was having his way because it was better than fighting and dealing with Johnny being bitter and whiny.

It was fucking torture. Do you know what that's like? To be slowly isolated and forgotten in your own household? Yes, you do. Because Johnny has made sure of that. Are you going out too much? Johnny is complaining. Are you working too much? Johnny is complaining. You watch too many shows with them? Johnny is complaining. It was getting to the point where you only left your room to eat and when Simon texted you, period. Soap had insisted that with him and Ghost working civilian jobs, you should stay home to keep things tidy and make life a little easier. All it had taken was for Ghost to agree that that would make things easier for you to relent since your job wasn't the best anyway. But the pure isolation that you felt from only interacting with the two of them unless Johnny was gracious enough to let you come with them on an errand?

It was debilitating.

Finally, everything came to a head. "Hey Johnny, would you go to the corner store and pick up some soda?" "Would you come with?" "I would have bloody come with three hours ago right after work. Now I'm in my fuckin' pajamas. Not goin' anywhere like this." "Well, you know I dinnae like going right after work, Simon."

This was your opportunity, your chance. Soap was nose deep in some book he was reading and only half paying attention while you sat next to Simon on the couch, his feet propped up on your lap.

"I would go with you?" Simon's eyes flicked to you, a small smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah, love, that would be great. Mind makin' a list for me so I know what all we need to pick up?" A task. You loved when Simon gave you things to do, because whith those things to do was always some form of praise or appreciation upon completion. You ate it up whole and completely. "Of course, Si. I'll be ready by five tomorrow." "It's a date then, love."

And so, that's how you flitted around the house all day, straightening up and making a list of what you needed, absolutely giddy and buzzing wirh hopeless excitement. Soap got home early that day, which wasn't much of a shock, just made you retreat into your room early. Nothing new. Simon would text you when he was ready, right?

You sat by your phone eagerly with baited breath. 5:30. You guessed that work had kept Simon late again. It wasn't that big of a deal. But you sent him a text just to let him know that you hadn't forgotten about him. "I'm ready whenever you get off work, no rush. I love you."

5:30 turned to 6:00 and that's when you finally got the message. "I'm here." Short, sweet, to the point. That was Simon for you. You practically threw yourself off of your bed and ran to the garage with a large grin on your face. Even if it was as simple as groceries, you cherished every moment of time you got with Simon as if it were spending time with God himself. Because, in a way, Simon was your God. You looked up to him, depended on him, revered him, practically worshipped the ground he walked on; because he deserved it in your eyes.

Your grin fell at the sight before you. "Oh, hey Bonnie." Soap was hopping out of the passenger seat of Ghost's Jeep, going around to the trunk and popping it to pull out several grocery bags. Hurt, confusion, and betrayal all pooled together in your gut as you watched him take the bags inside all in one go. But, what about your list? Your phone felt heavier in your pocket as your stomach churned at the realization that to bring up the completion of the task would be pointless now.

"Hop in." Ghosts voice shook you from your haze, and you slowly took Soap's empty seat beside Ghost. Why? The question swam through your head in several versions and variations, like fish in a barrel, trying desperately to find the freedom to burst forth from your lips. But, you just couldn't ask, too afraid of the answer.

"Where do you want to go?" The question almost caught you off-guard. Where did you want to go? Did he mean Groceries? Were there some left? Or did he mean just in general? Was he offering to do something with you? "I um, I don't know." You admitted, eyes flicking between Simon and the road.

"...'M sorry love." He admitted with a sigh, shoulders sagging with the weight of the world placed upon them. "There was a bit of a mix-up, ya see? I got home and texted Johnny to ask if he would ask if you were coming-" Of course, the plan had been to bring Soap all along. That hurt a bit. "- and he told me 'no' so I thought he meant that you didn't want to come."

"I didn't get your message until we were already in the bloody market, and when I asked Johnny about it, he told me that he had told me that he didn't ask you. I felt so plum bad because I knew that you wanted to come with. 'M so sorry, love."

You were so close to losing it. Hot tears stung at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall when Simon was trying so hard, going so far as to take you for an extra drive just to make sure you had some time with him and felt loved.

"I already told Johnny, so he knows that I'm spending some time with you. Tried to throw a fit, but I shut him down." Simon sighed and ran a hand down his mask as he looked over at you while stopped at a red light. "It's ok, Simon, really. I'm just happy to spend this time together with you. That's all I can ask for. Even though you're tired after work and going for groceries, you're still taking the time to make it up to me even though it wasn't your fault. I really appreciate it."

Simon didn't pull away as you clasped his hand in your own, softly running your fingers over the back of his knuckles. He looked so grateful and relieved, as if so much pressure had just been released. He had been so worried about how you were going to take it, about if this small bit of time would be enough.

"Thank you, love. You have no idea how much I appreciate you and how-" Simon was cut off by a loud click and a light being turned on on his dashboard. "Bloody hell, check engine? I'm so sorry. It doesn't seem too big a deal, but I should probably check it out before it becomes an issue. Is that OK, love?"

What were you supposed to say? 'No!' 'For the first time in months, I get some time alone with you, and it's just 20 minutes in a car!?' 'I miss you' 'please don't!' You couldn't. Simon was tired enough as it was with Soap clinging to him. You simply felt dejected as you tried to smile and reassure him that it was ok and that you enjoyed your time together.

When you got home, Simon muttered about checking the engine tomorrow as he herded you inside, plopping down on the couch next to Soap. The sight made your heart hurt even more. You were ready to just head to your cold, lonely room to cry out your frustration when Simon piped up. "Hey, love, mind cooking up some chips for me? I'm bloody starving, and they sound wonderful."

How could you say no? Sitting in your kitchen waiting for the French fries to bake, you couldn't do it anymore. You sobbed quietly into your open palm as you clasped your hand over your mouth to quiet any noises. What were you supposed to do? Staying was only wearing you down and tearing you apart. You felt more like the ghost in this household, forgotten and lost. You were losing yourself, touch starved beyond belief and to the point of isolation where you were starting to sleep more than you were awake because it made the pain go away for a bit.

But leaving would be just as hard. You hadn't been employed for so long because the boys took care of you, which wasn't going to look good on a resume, and you had nowhere to go. But worst of all?

Worst of all was how you knew your leaving would affect Simon. Johnny was consuming all of him and leaving mere shreds, and the only time that Ghost got to indulge in his own interests was with you. But he just couldn’t bring himself to leave Johnny. You were his support system, his pillar.

You knew this, and yet, it still felt so unfair. Simon was everything to you. When you had been at your worst, he had held you and told you that you were beautiful. When he had been deployed for months at a time, you always texted him and told him how much you loved and missed him. He gave all of himself that he had to give to you before Soap came and statched that all away.

And you couldn't blame Simon for how badly the trauma had messed him up! He still had nightmares about that week. Being tortured and having to watch Soap get tortured as well. Sometimes, you would wake up in the middle of the night to one of them screaming and waking up on a picnic only for the other to softly murmur and reassure them that they were ok and alive. You couldn't do that, not for Simon, not like Soap could.

A sharp 'ding' cut off your thoughts as the oven beeped, signaling the end of the potato strings furnace treatment. You pulled them out of the oven and put them on a plate, heading to the bathroom to clean yourself up. The time for your little mental breakdown was up. Now you had to go take the fries to Simon like you weren't just bawling, like you were perfectly fine and happy, like you didn't want to scream and shout and beg for things to be different, to change. But that would be selfish of you to do, and Simon couldn't deal with you and Soap both being selfish.

God, you looked like shit. Bags were heavy under your puffy eyes, your nose was red and runny, your face all splochy from your crying, tear streaks running down your cheeks. This wouldn't do. You sighed as you splashed some cold water on your face and took a deep breath, trying desperately to distance yourself and disassociate from these awful feelings.

Once you were sure you looked fine once more, you towled your face off and grabbed the plate, plastering on your 'I'm fine' smile as you took the french fries to Ghost. The way he smiled so softly and gently at you made it all worth it, made you temporarily forget all of that pain. "Thank you, love. You're welcome to stay?"

"No, thank you, I think I'm going to try and catch up in some games. Thank you, though." Ghost didn't press any, didn't ask again. You wished he would ask again, would even try just a bit to make you feel like he loved you a shred as much as you revered him. But you had to remind yourself that you were getting greedy. He had just taken you for a car ride just the two of you, he had just stood up to Soap so you two could have a bit of time alone, he had just done exactly what you were asking him for. And yet you still wanted more.

The realization that you felt terrible for wanting the bare minimum amount of attention and affection for a relationship was just another reminder of how unhealthy this was for you.

"I love you." Simon said, his eyes so soft and sweet. "I love you too." You had to hold back tears as your smile grew a little bit, and you turned. You couldn't even wait until you made it back to your room to start crying. It wasn't fair. You did everything right, did everything Simon asked, and asked nothing in return, you loved him unconditionally with all of your heart and gave all of yourself to him; meanwhile Soap didn't even care enough to give Simon personal space when they were together because it made HIM feel better. And yet, Soap was the one who got all of Simon's time and love simply because it was easier for Simon to cave to his whims than put up with his bitching. You couldn't handle it anymore! Couldn't take it!

But what were you supposed to do? What could you do? Nothing. The only thing you could do was throw a fit, and that would just wear Simon even thinner and wouldn't accomplish anything because things would be the same again within a month.

And so, you did the only thing you could do. You fell asleep crying again, clutching your pillow to your chest, wishing desperately that Simon would finally come to his senses and put you first for once. But you didn't fool yourself into believing it.

Only shooting stars Grant wishes, and all of yours had been shot down.

[blingblong55]

Happiness -Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Photo Credits: @ave661

---- F!Reader, angst, divorce, ex-husband!Simon, dad!Simon ----

A/N: Blaming the talented writers on here that wrote on ex-husband!Simon a while back for this

Ten years, eight of them lived as his wife and four of them as the mother to his child. Now, you and he sit on the stools of the kitchen island, tears in both your eyes as you two come to terms that your marriage is over. No one cheated, no one was toxic but the one thing that they couldn't see coming was that sometimes, love runs out. He and you stopped doing all the cute stuff together, it became stale and dead. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, holding your hand as you look down crying. "I guess it happens," you whisper back. But it shouldn't have. Not to you and not to him. 

You were supposed to grow old together, watch your child grow old, measure his height by the door frame, and watch Simon give his advice for when your son gets his first girlfriend. It was a plan, to sit by the fireplace when you'd both enter your fifties, reminisce on the past and laugh at the cringe things you both did when young. "I'll make sure the divorce goes smooth, I'll...find a place and visit every day. I swear to be the best at...co-parenting," he says with care. "I know, Simon," you grip his hand. 

It's a bittersweet moment, nearly five years ago, you sat him down in this exact place and held his hand with teary eyes as you told him you were pregnant. "Oh...oh my love, I'm going to be a dad!" The kiss he gave you knowing romance films would never compare to that kiss. Now, as you sit in silence, you can't help but cry a different kind of tears. Ten years of your life spent with him spent loving and getting to know him. They say, that to love is to know someone and you know and love him very well so, that is how you find yourself hugging him. Simon's hold on you is so hard yet filled with sadness and care. 

"I love you!" you laugh as you run around the sofa. Simon chasing you and laughing. He had started it, the 'I love you more' competition and when you whispered, 'I love you best' he began to tickle you. "If you say I win, I'll stop tickling you," he laughs. "Never!" your laughter loud as you try and push him off. "Very well then, lovely," he chuckles. After one push, that is where you find yourself running around the home you built with him. 

As you walk past the now cold sofa, you picture that night. Picture the mornings, days, afternoons and midnights where he and you kissed, cuddled, shared secrets, tears and laughs. What a sour taste did it bring to you. "I'll always love you," you whisper to the memory. Simon is out the door and on the road, finding someplace to stay for the night. In moments like these, he would seek for you but now, he must learn to be strong without you, something rather hard. 

[6 Months later]

A knock on your door as Simon comes to pick up your son. "It's opened!" you call out from the kitchen. His little boy, running to the door and smiling. "Daddy!" the young boy smiles and reaches for him, the image in front of you, melting your heart as you watch father and son share a moment. Your heart aches. Why didn't you fight? Cry and beg for him to think it through? No, but you want him to be happy and if he was unhappy in your marriage then you can't for him to stay or love you. 

It's been nine days since the divorce was finalised, you nor he told any of your friends. Kept it all to yourselves and went through grief alone. You drink wine alone in the afternoons now, he watches shit comedy specials alone. And when either of you turns to the side he or you occupied, the feeling comes back. No more shit-talking about the comedian, no more asking for another glass of wine. What if he is someone you'll never move on from? What if you're someone he never mentions? 

What if you two were blind and it wasn't that love ran out?

Fuck...why must this hurt.

"R/N, y'alright?" his voice interrupts you. 

No, I'm not and I miss you like never before. I miss your kisses, your whispers and your dirty jokes. I miss your mornings, I miss our mornings. Love me, please...please love me. 

"Yeah, sorry, I was just trying to remember my schedule today," your voice soft. He nods, "Yeah, well, me and the lad will be out. Call you if needed and call me if you need me." He says before leaving through the door. "Mm-hmm," you play bravely and watch him leave. As you sit on the sofa, you cry. You can't let him leave, not when you have poems, love letters and sweet nothings to tell him. Not when you still want to share your life with him. You walk to the door and go for the handle but hesitate. 

What if he moved on? What if he loves another?

[Simon's POV]

I step out, buckle my kid in and as I hear him laugh, I remember his second favourite toy is still in her home. Will she let me back in? Can she?... Now I'm wondering if she ever cared. Why did I fight for her? Why must I let her leave so easily? What if my love finds some man who tries to play house with my son and my girl? No, fuck that it won't happen. As I reach for her front door, I stop. My R/N, why must you feel so far and yet feel so close to me? 

Don't be stupid, she probably moved on. It's been six months, surely she is fine. But if she isn't? Then, I can still be the shoulder she leans on, I can be the chest she cries in, "Daddy, let's go!" Fuck, that's right. 

On the drive to the park, my mind wanders to her. Her smile, the way she was insecure of the stretch marks but she would fluster when I kissed them. Ten years ago, I met her in this park, kissed her here, walked with her here when she was pregnant and watched our son take his first steps here. Now, I walk with my son but not with her by my side. A woman approaches, me, we talk and soon after I leave. R/N must be home or out. I wonder if she still sings her makeup steps when getting ready. 

Does she still remember how I kissed her? How did my body feel against hers? I wonder if she misses me like how I miss her. Does she want to kiss me? Get back together? I hope no other guy wins her heart like I did. I hope no guy knows she loves to be kissed when her favourite song comes up and how she loves it when dirty jokes are told to her in whispers. I hope no guy watches her dance in a dress and adores her, those curves she got when she became a mother, the smile and the laugh when she gets nervous. 

I wonder if she knows I know her better than anyone. That my love beats any movie on the screen. I read all her favourite books so she'd think I was cool or that I read them to do the things the characters did and watch her fall for me more. Why didn't I tell her that day that I wasn't falling out of love but rather I was scared she would leave me? Fuck..

"Simon?" her delicate voice. If the heavens could speak, she would be the voice of them. "Sorry, I..." tell her you fool! Tell her you love her, that you miss her lips, her wit, her clumsiness and how she gives you a puppy stare when she can't reach the top shelf. "Yeah...uh, I forgot his...uh...his other toy and he has been asking about it." FUCKING COWARD!

[Your POV]

It was earlier than expected but he brought your son home earlier than usual. "I'll go get it for you," you say and walk upstairs. Meanwhile, he looks at the photos at the entrance. What were once photos of you three are now you and your son. "Here it is," you say as you hand him the toy. "Thanks, love," he mumbles as he leaves once more. Before you can close the door, "Simon?" your voice with hope. "Yes?" he turns around, a faint smile on him. Oh those eyes, his beautiful eyes. "...drive safe..." you want to mentally slap yourself. "Yes, love," he nods and walks back to his car. 

To build a home, to walk away and to miss it. Simon Joseph Riley and R/N...formally R/N Riley, now miss home. A home that was found in each other's arms. 

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[tanked-up]

Ghost while texting: Fuckin hate him so much

Gaz: Who…?

Ghost scoffs still texting: The Mohawk Dude with the funny accent!

Gaz: The sergeant who flipped you?

Ghost: Yeah! He somehow found my number and won’t stop spamming me with Mirror pics

Gaz: Well, that’s weird… how could he have a hold of your phone number…?

Ghost: No idea, but imma find the fucker who gave it to him

Gaz mumbles: Well good luck…

Price hearing the entire conversation: Who gave you permission to give him the number?

Gaz whispering: Listen, The man was practically begging for it!

———————————————

(Five months later)

Ghost: Fuckin idiot

Gaz: What now

Ghost: Johnny’s been sending mirror pics the whole fuckin day

Gaz: Oh to be in love

Ghost scoffs: In love, right

Gaz: Oh sorry, “colleagues who’s been sending each other mirror pics as a hobby for over a year now”

Recruit hearing the conversation: …

Ghost lets an uncomfortable laugh: He’s joking! Just jokin…

Ghost whispers: If you tell a word I will leak your fuckin diary.

Gaz: YOU READ MY DIARY!?

Ghost: I can read your fuckin mind, shithead