#sweet trauma and hard fluff this time

[luvjunie]

— broken promises

pairing: earth 42 miles x fem!reader

summary: while earth 42 miles comes off a lot tougher than 1610’s based off his cold demeanor and his trauma induced apathy, somewhere under that hard shell, he’s still the sweet boy he used to be and wants love just like anyone else. miles is aged up to 17 in this, simply for the plot! wc: 2,640

contains: spoilers!!! angst to fluff

word bank: “mi vida” - my life, “mi amor” - my love

playing now: Wasted Love Freestyle by Jhene Aiko

You and Miles have been dating for 7 months now, and lately he hasn’t been around as much as he’d like to, for obvious reasons. Well, not obvious to you. You still don’t know that Miles is the Prowler, and he’s intent on keeping it that way.

It’s the third time he’s flaked on plans he arranged himself this month, and he can tell you’re beyond tired of it with the way you just blew his phone up.

— Miles POV —

Miles’ phone buzzes in his pocket but he decides against checking it, marking it off as something unimportant. He’s already accepted a job from his Uncle and a distraction wouldn’t do him any good right now.

8:03 PM

Mi Vida: please don’t tell me you’re doing this again bro.

Mi Vida: this is a joke, right?

Mi Vida: hello?? you were supposed to be outside thirty minutes ago.

Mi Vida: Miles Gonzalo Morales I swear to GOD if I don’t hear your motorcycle revving outside in the next five minutes so help me.

*buzz buzz*

Ignored.

*buzz buzz*

*buzz buzz*

He kissed his teeth, lashes fluttering in aggravation and air puffing through his nostrils at the continuous buzzing against his leg. His shoulder fell to the side a bit as he reached down into his pocket to grab his phone while he climbed up the stairwell, following his uncle. Seeing your contact name on his lock screen, his brow raised as he read over the message, then they bunched together in the middle of his forehead incredulously, the tone of your texts causing his strides to falter.

Miles was genuinely confused for a moment, trying to think back on if he’d done anything to upset you, until the memory of him assuring you he wouldn’t do this again slapped him across the face harder than his mom did that one time he’d cursed at her on accident. The two of you had a date planned for tonight, and he swore to you he’d be there this time, fifteen minutes early at that, even though he knew there was a big chance he wouldn’t be able to make it all. It was selfish of him to promise something he couldn’t guarantee, knowing how demanding the other factors in his life were, but he was so tired of disappointing you, and how happy you looked when he told you you guys would finally get to spend some time together really had him thinking he could make it work this time.

Eyes falling shut for a beat, a heavy sigh leaves his lips, tongue darting out to dampen them as he quickly tries to think of something to respond with that won’t piss you off more than you already are.

He texts you back: sorry Mami, something came up yk how it is. i got you tomorrow tho fasho

Yeah. Real smooth.

*buzz buzz*

Mi Vida: yk what, just forget it, Miles.

Damn, she called me by my first name? I definitely fucked up this time. He thinks to himself.

Mi Vida: whoever you’re with is clearly more important to you than what we got goin on, so it’s cool. stay where you at, i’m done

Shit.

His heart beats a little faster in his chest, the sensation a semblance of something he hadn’t felt in years. Fear. He texts back as fast he can, head snapping up to see he’s fallen behind his Uncle, and he hurriedly jumps a few stairs before he comes to a stop again.

Miles: done??? the fuck you mean you done?

You don’t respond fast enough for his liking, so he double texts.

Miles: baby stop playin. you trippin it ain’t even like that at all

Mi Vida: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

He utters a string of curses under his breath, alerting his Uncle who had already noticed he was falling behind when he heard the inconsistency of his nephew’s footsteps. He’s ample steps above Miles, turning his head only slightly over his shoulder to address the distracted teenager.

“C’mon man, get off the phone. We got business to tend to. You in or you out?” Aaron asks. “You know I can’t have nobody holdin’ me back.” There’s a hint of something deeper playing within his words, and Miles knows he doesn’t have a choice.

He swallows hard as he looks up at the older man. Taking one last look down at his phone, his jaw clenches in contemplation before he’s shaking his head with a quiet sigh and shoving it back into his pocket. He’ll have to deal with this later.

“My fault. Yeah, I’m in.” He mumbles, doing a quick jog to catch up to the man.

His uncle’s lips quirk into a smirk, a heavy hand coming down to clap Miles’ back and squeeze his shoulder.

“My man. Aight, let’s roll.”

— Your POV —

8:05 PM

You: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

You watch closely as the three dots bubble at the bottom left corner of your screen, an indicator that he was typing. But instead, a quiet scoff slips from your mouth when they disappear, your shoulders slumping in disappointment at the word that appears below your last message.

Seen

You angrily toss your phone onto your bed, bottom lip quivering when you catch a glance at yourself in the mirror when you walk by. You’d gotten dressed up all nice just for him, because you knew the chance of him being free for a night to take you out was rare. You’d started your makeup early just to make sure he wouldn’t have to wait outside for you while you finished, and you’d even styled your hair the way you knew he liked. All for nothing.

You kicked your shoes off and dropped your purse to the ground, heading to your bathroom to undo all your work. You washed all the makeup off your face, the act feeling more humiliating than ever when you remembered why you’d even put it on in the first place. To feel pretty for someone who barely even showed up.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm down, hastily reaching back over to check your phone just one more time. Maybe he was thinking of what to say, and that’s why he’d left you on seen.

Seen 25 minutes ago

Maybe not.

You hated crying. And more than anything you were tired of doing it, especially when broken promises were the cause of your wasted tears. Your evening was basically wasted, and you weren’t in the mood to do anything else anyway, so you decided that you’d call it a night and head to bed early. You slipped on some comfy sleep shorts, tying your hair up for the night before grudgingly tugging a large t-shirt over your head. Your brow perked up at the scent that wafted past your nostrils, and pinching the shirt with your forefinger and thumb, you brought the fabric to your nose and immediately caught a whiff of Miles’ cologne. You then realized you’d put on a shirt you stole from him a while back, and the way your heart fluttered made you even more upset than you already were. You brushed it off to the best of your ability and crawled into bed, trying your hardest to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you pulled your blankets over your shoulder.

____

As soon as he’d gotten the job done and his Uncle gave him the okay to dip, Miles’ feet were moving at the speed of light down the stairwell. And while he had sort of rushed the plays he made with some of the city’s goons, he just had to pray that all his Uncle’s money was in the banded wad of cash he returned with, or it would be his ass.

Skipping a few steps he hopped down onto the platform before the next set, checking his phone for the time simultaneously.

10:15 PM

“Damn.” He groaned, pushing through the doors, cool wind hitting his face. Once he reached his motorcycle he shoved his helmet over his head, hopped on, and sped off with a “skrrrt”.

He sped through the streets carelessly, something you definitely would’ve scolded him for had you been riding on the back of his bike with him, with your arms tight around his waist to hold on like you always did. He bobbed and weaved through cars, lane splitting between a few of them and he may have even ran a red, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to remember. All he could focus on was that you said you were “done”, whatever the hell that meant, and he was adamant on making sure you weren’t.

____

You didn’t know when you’d dozed off, three steady knocks, a fourth one after a pause hitting against your window, resulting in your eyes snapping open at the disruption. You sat up on your mattress, the ball of your hand rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you peered across the room. Once they adjusted in the darkness and you recognized the familiar, lanky body of your boyfriend standing outside on the fire escape, the events of just two hours ago played over in your mind like a record.

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed and swung your legs over the side of your bed, pushing yourself onto your feet. Miles watched as you sleepily trudged over to the window, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, head slightly lowered and tilted to the side, as if he were already apologizing before you’d even made it to him.

Hooking your fingers underneath the edge of your window, with a quiet grunt you pulled it up, effectively lifting the barrier between your bodies. You instantly felt your yearning for him come back full force, and wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms, but you restrained. Your eyes met his, the cool night air breezing into your room, and his heart clenched. Somehow he was able to feel the coolness in your demeanor, yet the cold weather hadn’t bothered him at all.

He was the first to speak.

“Hola, Mami.” He sized you up once, taking notice of your eyes that were slightly puffy from crying.

His voice was like silk to your ears, alluring and confident, almost hypnotizing, and it aggravated you that you felt yourself gravitating towards him off two simple words.

“Why are you here, Miles?” You sighed, arms slapping at your sides in exasperation.

He looked slightly taken aback, chin lifting a bit as if you’d asked something completely outlandish.

“What you mean why I’m here? You my girl, shit, this my crib too.” He shrugged, so nonchalant, as if nothing had happened. You wondered if it had even been him texting you earlier.

“You left me on seen, remember? Stood me up, too?” Your head cocked to the side to match the attitude in your tone, brows raising at him. What excuse would he use this time?

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling heavily before he spoke up again.

“I was… busy. Look, my bad, okay? You gon’ let me in or what? Ian come all the way over here to stand outside.” He demanded with a gesture towards the opening, his hazel eyes glinting in the moonlight and thawing the ice that’d been temporarily encased around your heart. There was the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips, because he already knew the answer.

Your lips pursed and you stepped to the side, a laggard arm stretched out beside you, silently granting him access to your room.

He stepped through the window frame and you closed it after him, his hands folding around the collar then the hem of his jacket as he adjusted it and turned towards you.

“I can’t keep doing this with you, Miles. It isn’t fair.” You mumbled, hating the way your voice split your words.

His head dipped to the side a bit as he took in your solemn expression and the way your gaze was cast to the floor, as if you were trying to contain your tears. He wasn’t the best at this, he knew that, and showing affection effectively really wasn’t his strong suit. He usually made it up to you by bringing you a few hundreds he’d made from a deal, paired with some roses he’d picked up on the way to your house at the last second— but you both knew paper and flowers wouldn’t fix it this time.

“I’m sorry, I mean it.” He said, reaching for your hand to bring you close and grateful when your eyes finally lifted to lock onto his, although seeing them tear-filled wrapped him in a deep-seated emotion he didn’t even want to acknowledge.

Miles rarely said he was sorry. If ever. Did he apologize? Yes, but it was usually a ‘my bad’ or a ‘my fault’, or some other term that’d get the point across without him have to use too much emotion. Hearing the words ‘I’m sorry’ from him was an anomaly, it happened once in a blue moon, so this time you knew he really meant it. In your heart you knew he meant it, but that didn’t stop the tear you’d been trying to keep at bay from rolling down your cheek.

His thumb caught the tear almost instantly, swiping it from the soft of your skin. It didn’t belong there, and he hated to be the reason why you were crying in the first place.

“Where do you disappear to, Miles?” You sniffled.

He sighed, glancing back over at the window. He considered telling you the truth, but he knew he couldn’t.

“I’m just tryna keep you safe, ma.”

“You always say that!” You squeaked, making sure to keep your voice down, you had technically snuck him in. You ripped your hand from his grasp, turning your face away from him as another tear fell. “Do you not trust me or something? Is that it?”

“Of course I trust you,” His eyebrows knit together at your question and he stole your hand from your side again.

“So why can’t you tell me?” You pleaded, eyes big and glossy.

“I just-“ He paused. “I can’t let you get hurt. The shit I do…” You watched as he hesitated, like even speaking about the subject pained him. “It ain’t good.” He swallowed, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. “And I’ll be damned if I put you in the middle of my shit. I love you… okay?” He moved closer to you, and when you turned from him once again he brought your face right back to his, this time with both his hands. He wasn’t going to let you go, and while Miles was rough around the edges, and seemingly devoid of any emotion other than anger or resentment for the world—he always handled you with care.

“I love you, Y/n, I put that on everything. I’ll burn this whole world down for you, you hear me? Don’t think I won’t.” He stared into your eyes longingly, intent on making sure you didn’t just hear every word, but that you understood them, too.

You couldn’t help but lean into his hand, your own coming up to hold at his wrist as you inhaled shakily and gave him a bleak nod.

That wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear you say it.

“Do you understand?” He articulated his words, bringing his head down slightly to match your height a bit more.

“I understand.” You said softly, looking up at him through your lashes before your gaze fell to his lips. He took that as his sign, leaning forward and bringing you into a kiss.

You melted into him immediately, like you always did, eyes fluttering closed as your lips moved against his, and as his hands fell to your hips to pull you in closer, like they always did.

You broke the kiss for air, your hand resting on his bicep and your lips ghosting his as you spoke, as you shared the same breath. “I love you too…” You breathed, standing on your toes.

“Good,” You felt him grin before he pulled away, his hand pinching your chin to make you look at him. “Cause you not leaving me, ever. I can’t let no one else have you, Mami, you know that.” He cooed.

You felt heat flush your cheeks, a smile you couldn’t hide finally spreading on your face.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” You answered, chewing at your bottom lip. “Can you stay?” You whispered, eyes shifting between his hopefully as you awaited his answer.

“Ah…” He rubbed at the back of his neck, piping up again before you could get disappointed. “What about your moms?”

“She sleeps in on the weekends, you just gotta be outta here by nine. Please, pa?” You whined, already reaching for his hands.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head slightly, having to look away from the adorable look on your face. He tried to remain in denial of the fact that he was so deep in love with you he could hardly think sometimes, let alone say no, but he was failing. Miserably.

“Of course I’ll stay, mi amor.”

Your expression lit up, a toothy smile brightening your features as he let you lead him to your bed.

He made sure to remove his shoes before he laid down, settling on his back. He extended his arm out to you as he tucked the other behind his head, motioning for you to join him with his fingers.

You crawled into his open embrace, getting comfortable on top of his chest and nuzzling your head under his chin. You began to feel drowsy the second he wrapped his arm around you, a yawn leading your eyes to water. His hand slowly moved from where it was resting on your back, dipping beneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours comforting to you. His large hand rubbed up and down the expanse of your back, the tips of his fingers drawing lines along your spine— you always fell asleep easier when he did that. You listened to the steady beating of his heart, fingers idly toying with the gold chain he kept around his neck.

“I’m really sorry I ain’t make it tonight. I know you prolly got all pretty for me n’shit… and I wish I got to see it, but that’s on me.” He grumbled. He’d beat himself up over this for a while.

“S’okay.” You say it is, but he knows it’s not. He knows better. “I missed you.” Your quiet voice murmured from below him as you scooted in impossibly closer.

His jaw tensed as he stared up at your ceiling, a deep breath from his diaphragm raising you a little bit with his chest, and lowering you as he released it. “I know.” His response was hushed, and as sleep continued creeping in, you wondered if you’d imagined it.

But when you felt a long, drawn-out kiss press to the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades, you knew it was real. The last thing you heard before you dozed off was his voice, mellow and gentle as he assured you.

“Ima do better, mama. I promise, for real this time.”

- do not copy, plagiarize, or post my works onto a different platform.

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated!

[lvlyghost]

The Things I Never Said

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: Simon had told you he never wanted to be a dad, so when the inevitable happens you run.

Word Count: 2.2k

Tw: angst, fluff, ooc simon(? descriptions of pregnancy and panic attacks, medical inaccuracies, slightly suggestive but nothing too explicit, this isn't proofread; i think that's it?✨

A/N: omg i couldn't stop thinking about this so i had to write it! I'm just feral for dad!simon loosely connected to this bc this is where the idea came from. Hope y'all enjoy it🫰🏻💛🦄

Masterlist✨| Part 2

You're shaking by the time you're out of the bathrooms. There's no doubt. You think with slight tremble on your lower lip. It almost feels aa of the world around you is closing in. Suffocating your lungs. Your vision blurs, when you toss the pregnancy test in the trash can.

This can't be happening. Not to you.

It's not that you didn't want to have kids.

But Simon didn't.

At this point you're sobbing uncontrollably, gasping for air. It's a good thing no one comes to this part late at night. The only moment you could find peace and solace. Sliding down the wall, hiding your face in your hands. How could you let this happen? You should've been more careful.

Your mind goes back to that day when neither of you cared about the consequences. Caught up in the moment, tearing each other's clothes; eager to be together. You hadn't seen Simon in two months when he was deployed to Serbia and you had to stay behind. Being both in the military meant knowing the risks. Every time could be the last time. You heard things about that specific mission. He got injured. You remember the gnawing fear clawing at your chest. And then there he was, knocking on your door as soon as they landed. His shoulder wrapped around bandages. He kissed you hard, desperately.

Hitting the mattress with you on top of him, not wanting to hurt him anymore. The sweet things he murmured in your ears, hands intertwined as you fall apart together.

You love him.

He cares for you.

But even if he felt slightly the same way about you, it wouldn't be enough.

Simon had... traumas. A tragic story of his own. You heard him talk about it late at night when he couldn't sleep. Those demons that plagued his mind, his dreams... and you listened. That's all you could do.

Offer a hand to the man that had saved you over and over again. And somewhere along the lines you fell.

And you fell hard.

Somewhere between dark nights and shared kisses at dawn.

-

You didn't get any sleep last night.

Your mind is still spinning with the anxiety. The morning sickness that started to disrupt as soon as you woke up. Red, puffy eyes that you try to dissimulate by washing your face hoping it goes away.

You get dressed feeling devastated, knowing that you'll have to face him as soon as you enter the training room. He's in charge. The mere thought makes you want to throw up. But you leave the bedroom nonetheless. Walking down the hallway feeling your hands sweating and your ragged breathing.

When you finally open the doors you're fifteen minutes late. That alone will earn you a punishment.

It's almost as if he feels your presence, immediately finding your form when you enter, his jaw tightens. Simon doesn't like this. But as long as you're under his command you get equal treatment or else, he'd be in problems. Both, would be in problems.

"Bit late Sergeant." He grumbles, emphasizing the last word staring directly in your eyes. Ghost is perceptive and is aware that something is wrong, but doesn't comment on it... yet. "Fifty push-ups. Start sparring when you're done."

You swallow down saliva, feeling your throat constrict.

Fuck, fuck. Don't cry. Not right now.

This whole situation has you sensitive.

You start, concentrating on doing the push-ups. Hearing the distant voice of him echoing around the room, sometimes you think he's closer to where you are then he's gone, but his gaze never leaves you. It's almost sinful how good he looks in that tight green army t-shirt and cargo pants

Your arms are sore and wobbly by the time you finish. Standing up you fight a wave o nausea, closing your eyes so hard you see white dots behind your eyelids.

"You alright?" It's Kyle's hand on your shoulder what brings you back, your eyes fluttering open and find him looking at you, eyebrows slightly raised.

You give him a small smile and a nod.

"Just tired that's all. Didn't get much sleep last night." You divert your gaze where the rest are beginning to spar. "How mad is Ghost?"

Gaz chuckles.

"I wouldn't call that mad. I think he's worried. You look like shite, dear."

"Oh." You say.

Gaz prompts you to the other side to join the training. Everyone's gathered around the training mat. Soap is kicking a soldier's ass. What was his name again? You forgot.

A gentle brush on your skin and then delicate fingers wrap your arm. You freeze, Simon's feather touch sends goosebumps all over your body. You turn your face upward to acknowledge him. His deep blue eyes soften when you look at him.

"Is everything okay Sergeant?" He asks. No. He demands.

You open your mouth and then close it. That's a question you don't know yourself.

I wish. You want to say.

But nothing will ever be okay after last night.

"I... I- didn't get much sleep, Sir. That's all."

Simon sighs but doesn't insist. He just nods, accepting your answer for now, once the training is done he'd talk to you. "You're up." He instructs.

Hand to hand to combat has never been your strongest suit but you do it nonetheless. Informatics on the other hand... you're the best of the best. That's why you're here, why you're a part of the task force.

Ghost stands within your range of vision in a way that you can see that he's there even when you're fighting.

You start although you're not in your best shape. Your heart is racing but not for the adrenaline. Your mind is fuzzy and your stomach churns. The panic is starting to break loose on you. You recognize the signs. You barely dodge the man's punch, this can't be called sparring. You're merely deflecting his hits, defending yourself.

Get a fucking grip!

Soap and Gaz look at each other. Then at Ghost who's clenching his fists, looking like he's about to jump between the two and kill the man. They get ready just in case something goes sideways.

You see his fist coming to your face, you take a step back but it grazes your left cheek. Someone in the distance swears and it's enough to distract you, the next blow goes to your gut. He doesn't even hit you with full force, noticing your lack of response he refrains as much as he can but it connects with your abdomen nevertheless.

It suffocates you. Brings you to your knees spitting saliva and gasping for air. You hear the soldier's frantic apologies. You cough trying to breathe but you just can't. It hurts you.

In a quick move Ghost is kneeling beside you, eyes scanning your body for external injuries. Anything.

"Hey... hey, kid! Look at me!" He orders. You can't, mostly because you're gasping for air, coughing, and the pain in your stomach. Ghost grabs your face seeing the tears collecting in the corner of your eyes. Another wave of nausea hits you and you spit out whatever comes out of your mouth. Simon takes you in his arms lifting you and runs to the infirmary, gritting his teeth. His steps echoing in the empty hallway as he bursts the doors of the med wing open.

-

"Captain..." you greet him as soon as you walk into his office, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Price looks at you, arms crossed. The bucket hat resting on his head. He's dead serious.

"Does he know?" He interrogates with that deep voice of his. It's only been an hour since the incident. Price had to do all in his power to keep Ghost busy. It nearly costs him a limb and a punch to his face. There's only so much he can do.

"No." You murmur, looking down to your feet.

"Jesus, kid." He pinches the bridge of his nose. His head was pounding already. This wasn't good. For any of them. John had decided to turn a blind eye on the situation. As long as it didn't interfere with their duties. Now? He shakes his head. Price walks towards you, the youngest of his team and a valuable asset. You were important to him, to everyone in the 141; to Simon in a very different way. "I'm putting you on medical leave. You must take care of your health, your body. I'll see what I can do, yeah? And for the love of God, talk to Simon."

-

You don't.

And that's because you're terrified. As soon as you left Price's office you ran to your room throwing your belongings in a duffel bag. You needed time to think. Of course you'd tell Simon.

Just not right now.

The disapproving stare of the doctor was enough to make you feel bad about hiding your pregnancy from him and then your Captain. You bite your lip and head out, the taxi driver is waiting already so you hop in, wishing to get some time alone. Clear your head and then find the best way to tell Simon about this.

It's raining outside by the time you're in your apartment. You've had time to get a quick shower and take the ibuprofen for your sore body. Your hands run absentmindedly to your stomach, soothing the skin but flinching when you press too hard. You should've stayed at base and talk to him after what happened.

But you're scared of the outcome.

By this time Simon must've found out you're gone. You won't blame him if he hates you. After all you ran away from him, like a coward.

Pouring some tea on a mug you hear the sound of keys jingle, and the footsteps followed by a large shadow that towers above you. Blond hair and hard eyes contemplating you, the mask is gone...

Holy shit. You think.

The only thing that Simon finds comfort in is gone. There's something about him not hiding behind the balaclava that sets deep in your heart. As if he were baring himself to you. Not that you hadn't seen his face before; that's exactly why this is more meaningful. It's serious. He chose to show you how vulnerable you can make him.

"Why?" His stern voice sends shivers down your spine. "I went to check on you and the first thing they say is that you're gone." His lips are pressed in a thin line.

"Simon, it's not what you're thinking..."

"Then bloody tell me what is it." He seethes, taking a step closer. "Was already losing my fucking mind over that bastard hitting you and suddenly you're gone?" He shakes his head. "Had I known you weren't going to fight back..."

"I'm pregnant." You blurt out, interrupting his talk. Simon's jaw clenched, halting and freezing on his spot. "And I'm sorry I didn't come to you as soon as I found out but I was scared." Your lips quiver and you hold back a sob, but unable to do much about the tears. "I was scared to tell you because I know you never wanted any of this, I failed to you. I couldn't sleep, I was panicking and the thought of losing you... I needed time to figure out how to tell you." Simon is silent, he doesn't move nor blinks. He just stares. Memories of his time with his father flooding his mind. He never wanted kids. That's true.

Seeing you there, in front of him. Choking on your words, crying because you thought he'd abandon you like you were nothing? Bloody fucking Christ it breaks his heart. Very few things had that effect on Simon. He had made you fearful of facing this on your own. Did you think you were just his friend with benefits? Someone he'd come to whenever he wanted to get laid? Hadn't you seen the way his eyes roamed over you whenever you were around? Never fucking heard the despair in his voice when you got shot during that black ops in Afghanistan? How he seemed to loom over your presence if some pathetic muppet tried flirting with you? The nights spent in his bedroom, limbs tangled hearing you speak about your day? The mission when he finally realized he was completely and utterly fucking enamored with you?

That time he wouldn't leave your bedside because you were severely wounded and comatose?

"I am not my old man, kid." He states after a few minutes of silence. "And if it wasn't clear already, I'd do anything for you. I don't know shite about being a parent but I'll try, yeah? For you..." he clears his throat. This was as complicated for him as it was for you. "For both of you, I'll try." The words sound strange coming out of his mouth. You close the space between you and hug him, inhaling his scent. He kisses your temple while rubbing soft circles on your back. Relief washes over your body and the tears stop gradually, until it's just the two holding one another during a raging storm of feelings and nature outside.

Soon the tension, the doubts and the anxiety are replaced with reassurance and loving words.

Promises.

Things you never thought you'd hear.

[certifiedwhore4slashers]

Manipulative

pairing: coriolanus snow x f!reader, past oc x f!reader.

summary: he’s fallen way too deep, and he knows that.

a/n: i am in no way romanticizing nor defending his actions, he sucks as a person, this is for funsies, keep that in mind. remember he’s literally responsible for mass murders of children. also this idea is cliche ik ik. but, if you want more I will do more with original ideas.

reader has somewhat long hair, BUT no other descriptions of the reader. and I don’t usually do that. just for this post:)

warnings: yandere themes, toxicity, manipulative behavior(manipulation) obsession, possessiveness, no fluff, implied/referenced murder, slight blood, narcissistic tendencies, delusion, unhealed trauma, implied stalking, mild violence.

The meadow was where you’d often go. Ever since the games, it was a stress reliever, humming some songs or even just listening to the birds chirp.

After Coriolanus was sent to be a peacekeeper, You were sent home. District 12 was your home. You sat down on the cold rock. You were more of an creative artist than musician. Sometimes you wrote songs, and sometimes you wrote poems or just stories.

But you didn’t feel like doing anything today, just admiring the breeze in front of you. You were fairly zoned out when you hear a twig snap, and turn around.

You sigh of relief.”Sorry. Still have those instincts from the games.” You rushed over, not doing much. Still in disbelief he really was there.

You didn’t expect him to be here. But here he was. “It leaves quite the impression, He chuckled. It was a long embrace, and you say,”You found me. Quite surprised.”

“You figured I would, He teased. “Not this fast, and really it was hope, You tease right back, lips on his, it was passionate and sweet, ideal for a reunion.

“The sun’s hot, come in the shade, You offer. He had some ice, now melted and offered it.”Here. For you.” “Thank you, You reply.

You were very thirsty. The moment the water hit your tongue you were in heaven. “This must be the only cold thing in November, he joked.

You laugh in response.”So, Coriolanus Snow, What are you doing in the Meadow?” You were half joking. You never were fully serious. At least until it came to your feelings for him.

“Spending some time with my girl, He replies. The word My, a possessive tone, You notice. But brush it off.

“It’s unbelievable, You admit.”Truly. But I was surprised they brought me back. I swore It was all me.” “But it wasn’t, he points out. You look at him.”Clearly they didn’t believe me.”

His lips were on yours again, long and passionate. You two hadn’t seen each other since the games ended.

“Well, It was hard to believe for me too, He admits.”Tell me what happened after.” It was difficult to recall everything. The games were a nightmare. Especially the Arena. And Mayfair.

As the two of you share the water, You couldn’t help but wonder as he told stories, exchanging them, if something was wrong.

“Poor Jessup, You say sympathetically.”He didn’t deserve that. It was you, though, wasn’t it? The one who killed Bobbin?”

“I had to, Coriolanus replied.”He tried to kill me.” “I’m not saying what you did was wrong, but I suppose killing is for survival in the Arena, You reply. Snow only nodded.

“I heard the others brag, You say.”So I know. I thought the worst happened. You know, that you were dead.”

Heading back up beside him, You still couldn’t believe he was here. Whatever relationship you had, seemed to grow.

“What have you been up to? He asks, curiously.”It’s been a while.” “It has, you laugh.”And truly, not much. A few performances here and then. At the Hob, Maude Ivory’s an amazing singer like Lucy Gray.”

For a mere moment, You were in complete bliss. And that night was a normal evening for the Covey. Your parents were killed, well, your adoptive parents. They took you in, then Maude Ivory came along, your younger sister.

You became a part of the Covey. Until of course, their murders. But you had her, at least. “You want one? A peacekeeper asks, referring to liquor.”You might need it for your performance.”

“Sure, You grin, taking a swig, not making a reaction to the bitterness of it.”You’re right. I might need it.” Lucy Gray was a beautiful singer, but tonight, let you perform.

“Are you sure? I’m not the songbird, You tease. “I’m sure, and Maude Ivory wanted you to, She sweetly says. Your cousin was always the songbird.

“Besides, I think he’d like to hear you sing, Lucy Gray smirked. You knew who she was referring to. Truly the one who knew of your relationship, but by accident.

You wore a yellow dress, not too short but not too long either, and sunflowers in your hair. You wanted to have a good impression.

You tease her,”I think he’d like to hear you.” But you went up there, guitar in hand. A talent that you and Lucy Gray both had. It was the genes, you swore.

But you amazed the crowd as you sang. You were no Songbird. But you had some talent. And the whole time your eyes were on him.

It made him feel more special, in a way. Like the only person could make you feel this happy was him. Him. You were his, at least in his eyes.

But you did a wonderful performance. You mostly did instruments and stood in the background. You didn’t sing much.

Even though you were aware he was there, you went on, even with butterflies in your stomach. It was later that evening that things went downhill.

You said goodbye, even to Coriolanus, saying,”I shouldn’t be out so late anyway. But I promise, straight tomorrow. I’m sure you have peacekeeper things to do, anyway.”

He smiles.”It’s alright. You must be tired from that performance.” You laugh, then nod, quickly kissing him, then moving along.

You didn’t notice that he followed you. He was quite literally, obsessed. Especially after hearing your sweet voice. Since finding your home in the Seam, it wasn’t hard to follow you, and pretend he was there for something else.

Sometimes, he’d meet you there. Other times, didn’t even know he was there watching. He’d call it protectiveness. But it was really a sense of possessiveness over you.

That’s what it really was.

He heard your voice in your room, you sang to yourself. You sang a love song. That wasn’t hard to understand.

He had a sense of jealousy. It was clear the lyrics wasn’t about him. A past one, maybe. It wasn’t Billy Taupe. He had Lucy Gray. So who could you mentioned?

He was bloodthirsty. Or at least, had a taste for violence. He’d never say it or admit it. It was like he was a rebel. And he hated rebels.

But that didn’t stop him from feeling this way. As you danced and sang a little. Coriolanus defended his behavior, he was being protective of you. That nobody would hurt you.

He had fallen way too deep. And he was aware. You might feel the same about him, just as equally obsessed as he was. But that night, he wasn’t looking for trouble. Not much, anyway.

Someone stood beside him, admiring your singing. “Peacekeeper, huh? The male laughed. Coriolanus turns.”Yeah. Punishment. Not a choice.”

“She’s always been a singer, the male explained.”didn’t have much faith.” He wanted to know how the male knew that.

“How do you know? Coriolanus asked, curiously. “She wrote that song about me, the male bragged and seemed proud.”One of these days she’ll get back together with me.”

You never mentioned your ex lover much. Only that he hurt you, and that he was still infatuated. You were right about that.

“She isn’t interested, Coriolanus says, coldly. His fists clenched, along with his jaw, both from the rage he was feeling.

Maybe it was his narcissistic tendencies that were showing. A feeling of shame. A feeling that, he was superior than the male standing in front of him. He’d do so much better.

And with that, he swung. He could’ve shot him. But it was the easy way. And he didn’t deserve the easy way. His blood thirst took over a little, and like Bobbin, didn’t know how far his strength would go.

He stands back, his knuckles bleeding and blood on his uniform he’d have to explain later. Maybe it was a mistake coming to visit you. Your singing had stopped.

He pants. What had he done? Standing over the body, Coriolanus realized what he truly had done. And what could he do? He didn’t want a career as a peacekeeper; but his future would be damaged even further. He had to do something.

The Lake.

It brought him good memories. Swimming alongside you and the covey. But he’d have to hide the body somewhere.

It took a lot of his strength; but didn’t wear him out to drag him to the lake. It wouldn’t be too hard hiding evidence. His body would eventually disappear and Coriolanus doubted anybody cared about him. You didn’t anymore.

And he just watched. After the blood washed off, He walked away. He left the Seam. He'd come back. But You'd be aware of it.

Morning came, and peacekeepers came knocking at your door. The whole morning was a mess. When you did eventually meet up with Coriolanus, you decided on telling him about it.

“Did you know? She asked.”I’m assuming every peacekeeper knew. The guy I used to go out with was murdered. Found in the lake.”

“We were informed today, but I wasn’t the one who found it, He lies. He did not like lying, but he had to. He held a tight grip on you.

And he wasn’t letting you go.

[latenightdaydreams]

I'm thinking how Konig would react when his wife call him with full him in an argument (about culture bc I'm Asian ehe), like it's a sign of seriousness.

It's the same in my culture! I love thinking about giant König just freezing knowing he went too far😶

Laundry Day (fem)

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, argument, fluff

.

.

König has recently retired so that means that he is home constantly now. It means that you both get to spend a lot of time together and you love it, but sometimes he talks to you as Colonel König instead of just your Kö. Today was one of those days.

König comes into the laundry room wearing a towel around his waist as he has just gotten out of the shower. He is holding black workout shorts in his hand with an annoyed look on his face.

“Y/n, you didn’t wash my gym clothes?”

“No, today I only washed bed sheets and towels so far, I’ll get to them.”

“Nien, I told you to wash them last night.” He snaps back quickly.

At this point König is becoming very demanding and his voice has become stern, as if you’re his subordinate. You continue to fold towels and place them into the laundry basket. Trying to remain calm to not make König explode further. After a lifetime in the military, he has remaining traumas and it causes him to act out. You try to not take it so personally, but it’s hard.

“I know, but I wasn’t aware you needed them for today.”

“Of course I would, I work out every day!” He raises his voice slightly.

You take a deep breath, placing the towel down and turning to him. “Yes, but I wasn’t aware that you had no more clean-”

“Why would I ask you if I had clean clothes!” He cuts you off and yells this time.

You tighten your jaw and glare at him. You might be smaller than him, but you aren’t going to just let him walk all over you.

“Maybe next time you should inform me of your schedule and I-”

“Ich bin dein Ehemann! You do what I say, when I ask!” König’s pale face turns bright red as he yells at you, holding up his shorts in a bit of blind rage directed at you.

You’ve had enough, he knows better than to speak to you this way. You toss the basket of clean towels on the floor and turn towards him. The look in your eyes puts fear in the giant man’s heart.

“Alexander Jan König! You DO NOT speak to me that way!” Your voice is loud and stern.

König looks at you with wide eyes and a slack jaw. He is stunned, he isn’t used to people speaking to him like that; especially not his sweet wife. He doesn’t say anything. His face softens and his shoulders drop. His pale blue eyes glued to you, he’s still too scared to move or say anything.

“Do you understand?!”

“Ja-y-yes.” He stumbles over his words as he stands up straight.

“Good!” you walk past him out of the laundry room and he just watches you go before looking back down at the towels on the floor. He listens to you stomp away and slam the bedroom door. He is terrified, but also slightly aroused. 

He quickly bends down and begins to clean up the towels on the floor. He begins to start the washer to clean them again for you, he also plans on drying and folding. He goes back to the bathroom and grabs his own gym clothes and gets them ready to be washed next. 

Going into the kitchen, he saw dishes in the sink and began to wash them for you. He looks at the clock once he is done and only twenty minutes have passed, but he is still in his towel from the shower so he tries to go up into the bedroom to see if you’re okay.

As you sit on the bed with your arms crossed, still angry, you hear a light knock at the bedroom door.

“Liebling?” König’s voice is gentle as if he’s talking to a child.

“What?”

König opens the door slightly and pokes his head in. His eyes meet yours and he smiles at you timidly.

“Hallo mein Herz, can I come in?”

“Sure.”

König walks in like a dog with his tail between his legs. Your eyes travel over his attractive body as he makes his way to the bed and sits at the edge.

“I-I’m sorry…” the words struggle to leave his lips. Not because he doesn’t feel bad, but because his ego is so fucking big. “I’m sorry I snapped.”

You continue to just sit there and look at him as his head is dropped and his gaze is to the floor, “And what else?”

He turns his head to the side to look at you but quickly looks back away when he sees how mad you still are.

“And I’ll never do it again.”

“And?”

“I’ll take you out tonight for dinner, I can buy you whatever you want.”

You just look at him, up and down. A small smile comes up across your lips. You love to see this behemoth war criminal melt at your feet like this.

“Good. I also want a massage.”

“Absolutely.” König nods while he looks at you. “I’m very sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

König looks at you with a genuine sympathetic look in his eyes. You're the one person in this world that understands him, he never meant to hurt or lash out at you.

“Thank you for apologizing Kö.”

He reaches his hand out for yours with a small smile on his lips. You reach out and intertwin your fingers with his. König can feel himself begin to relax as he squeezes your hand.

[toxicanonymity]

i need more raider joel more than i need air in my lungs

Night air.

3500 words, raider!Joel x f!reader | ✨gif

Raider master list ⭐ Joel master

reader-curated playlist | sweet pea (smut songs)

“‘s’too cold out here, sweet pea. put on a shirt, would ya?" Your heart flutters at the implicit invitation and you return with a flannel over your nightie. . . He makes room for you, but doesn’t take his eyes off the fire as he lets you climb into his lap. You study his face and see something new flickering behind it. Worry.

You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you don’t.  "When are you gonna come to bed?” you ask instead.

SUMMARY: Joel brutalizes a bad guy, gives it to you hard, then works on something for you and gives it to you slow. His POV is revealing. WARNINGS: I8+, POV alternates, ANGST, Joel's trauma, overkill violence, dubcon (stockholm syndrome) unsafe P in V x2 (hard then soft), dark fluff, f masturbation, somnophilia, staying inside, NO Y/N. A/N: ty @milla-frenchy for Qs & recs 🖤

—--- JOEL——

Yeah, Joel killed two of his own men, and they had it coming.  He caught them red handed on their way into your room in the stash house. It still makes his blood boil to think about. If they hadn’t walked into that room talking about you like a piece of meat, those two men would be alive. Joel would do it again in a heartbeat.  

He’s not surprised when the others are shaken, but if they’re good men, they have nothing to worry about.  When things remain tense longer than he expects, Joel rounds them up for a group meeting. He puts you in the usual room with his trusted guard Carter posted at the door.  The meeting becomes heated. 

“No one’s gonna be left at this rate,” one man barks.  “They ain’t gonna say it,” he gestures behind him to the other men, “but I will. She shouldn’t be here.” 

Joel’s voice raises with his blood pressure. He asks, “What’d you say to me, Harold?" as he stands up. 

Louder, maybe loud enough for you to hear, Harold repeats, “She shouldn’t be here.  It’s bound to happen.” Bound to happen? These low-lifes are bound to put their hands on Joel Miller’s girl? Joel can feel the beat of his rage in his veins. All his muscles tense. 

He takes a deep breath, exhales sharply, then says matter-of-factly, “I’ll show ya what else is bound to happen.” 

Joel picks up his rifle. 

"Yeah, kill me," Harold chides. "Kill us all."

Joel shakes his head no. His voice is deep and flat.  "Not until ya beg me to." Now he’s gotta make an example out of someone. 

Joel forces Harold outside, then puts his rifle behind his back and lets Harold take a swing at him, just for fun.  When Joel gets this wound up, he needs to feel something. After getting clocked square in the jaw, Joel beats him until he’s barely conscious. Then, Joel hoists Harold, who is not a light man, and impales him on a sharp, severed fence post. 

Joel puts his rifle around front again, leaving Harold alive but doomed, and heads back toward the house.  He’s almost to the door when Harold manages to groan through his gurgles.  Joel turns around, calmly raises his rifle, shoots him in the head, then keeps walking. He goes back inside, chest heaving, wiping blood splatter off his face with his wrist. The rest of them are still inside. No one came to Harold's defense or ran. Joel stares down the men, and based on the faces he sees, he’s not worried about any of them.  

“Rest of ya got nothin’ to worry ‘bout,” he reassures them. “long as ya leave her ‘lone.” 

The men nod. Joel thinks about adding, and I’m not the only one you’ve gotta worry about, tempted to warn them that you know your way around a pistol and can handle yourself. One bullet, right between the eyes of that fucker. Joel thinks about it all the time. There’s something about his little sweet pea being a badass. And thank god, because he almost lost you. 

“Now back to business.” 

They discuss the rival crew they think sent two guys to Joel’s trailer, only for Joel and you to kill them. Joel doesn't think the crew is stupid enough to cause any more trouble, but agrees someone has to keep watch Just in case. 

Joel almost reminds his men that he holds all the smuggling routes and contacts, just in case they’re concerned enough to pull something.  But he doesn't need to say it. He dismisses them and grabs a duffle bag before collecting you from Carter. Carter asks what to do with Harold, and Joel says leave him for a while.

–

When the two of you get back to his trailer, Joel is ready to fuck out his anger. He sees himself in the mirror, chest heaving, veins about to pop, blood splatter on his hairline. God damnit, Harold. Joel  showers because he doesn’t want any part of Harold getting close to you. Not even his blood. 

You’re in the kitchen getting a glass of water when Joel walks out of the bathroom in just a towel.  He crosses the kitchen, drops the towel, and pins you against the counter, pressing his hardness against your ass. He backs up enough to scrunch up your dress and growls, "good girl," when he finds you panty-less and wet. You knew. You were ready for it. 

He grunts as he shoves himself into you, and he gives it to you good. "No one’s," he thrusts, "gonna," he grunts "touch ya." He plunges into you twice more, breathing heavily, then adds, “but me.” The power of his hips sends you to your toes with each thrust. He wraps an arm around you to hold you steady and watches over your shoulder as your tits jiggle with each punch of his hips. It doesn’t take you long to come.  Then he curls his hands under your arms to hold your shoulders down from the front and begins to pulse with a low groan. He leans his head against yours and cradles it from the other side as he catches his breath, then asks, “you good?”

You nod, “mm-hmm,” and he pulls out, feeling better. 

“Good.” 

-

In the following days, things settle down in Joel’s group and get back to normal. The rival crew doesn't show up.

—--

One night, Joel leaves you inside the trailer while he sits out by the fire, as he often does.  What you don't know is that he's not just sitting, drinking, and thinking.  He’s working on something.  He’s been making things for you. He hasn’t given you anything because nothing’s good enough, and it’s probably not going to get any better, but he keeps doing it.  Sometimes he feels a little silly, but they’re things that will help both of you.  Practical things. 

He made a thigh holster for your gun. There was an old one without the straps in the weapons cache which is just a small room of chaos in the stash house, no telling what else is in there.  He used part of a belt for the top strap and some black ribbon on the bottom, for the time being.  It would be better than nothing, but he hasn't given it to you in case it wouldn’t work. Maybe it doesn't matter. As the weather changes, you'll probably need new clothes, anyway. Maybe even pants, he internally grumbles. Sweaters, too, so your chest won’t be exposed. 

Tonight, Joel has another strap of leather with him, one that wasn't right for the holster. He also has a pot of water and a steel nail with a makeshift handle so he doesn’t burn himself. He heats up the tool and uses the hot nail head to emboss the strap with bold letters. He’s been working on it all week, and he’s only on ‘E.’ It’ll be first name only at this rate. You might not wanna wear it anyway, but it’s for your own good.  

Joel’s almost lost you twice now. If there’s anything he can do to make someone think twice about touching or taking you, he’ll do it. Because Jackson, may he burn in hell, was right. Joel can’t have his eyes on you every single second. He's told you before: you tell’em you belong to Joel Miller. They’ll back right off when they hear it.  But it doesn’t hurt for them to see it, too. And of course Joel wouldn't mind seeing it himself. 

Joel’s fingers are too big for work this small.  He accidentally makes the vertical line of the E slanted. Ah hell, this whole thing is no good anyway. You may never see it at this rate. But it feels good working with his hands, especially on something he thinks could help keep you safe and keep you his. You're a good girl, his good girl. 

He should be thinking strategy, what’s going to happen with these warring crews, but that’s just not where his head’s at.   

—--- YOU 🌸🫛—-----

You listen to the fire crackle and pop, longing for Joel to come to bed, longing for him to hold you, and more.  He seems to stay outside longer than usual. When he adds a new log to the fire, you get impatient and decide to go out. You put on your shoes and go to the door, pushing it open just an inch. The rail to the stairs is blocking your view, but he's looking down at something. His jaw clenches in the firelight and he raises his eyebrows as he looks up.  You slowly open the door, stepping out onto the stairs in your nightie.  He puts something down on the ground, out of view.  

“‘s’too cold out here, sweet pea. put on a shirt, would ya?" Your heart flutters at the implicit invitation and you return with a flannel over your nightie.  As you approach, he takes a swig of whiskey and puts the flask down.  His eyes are dark as he watches the flames.  He makes room for you but doesn’t take his eyes off the fire as he lets you climb into his lap. You study his face and see something new flickering behind it. Worry. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you don’t. 

"When are you gonna come to bed?” you ask. 

His brows knit as he looks at you. For a few seconds, he concentrates on picking lint off the flannel and smoothing your nightgown. 

“I dunno, sweet pea. Got some stuff to figure out.”  

“Can I help?”

He shakes his head no. You put your arms around his neck and rest your cheek against his shoulder. Then you slowly roll your face against him so your lips touch his warm skin and your nose rests on top of his shoulder muscle.  You close your eyes and stay like that for a moment.  He doesn’t stop you. Then you dare to press your lips ever so slightly into his skin before pulling your face back to look at him, your lips disconnecting with a barely perceptible smack. Joel’s still looking at the fire, but he allows himself a subtle smile as he exhales a silent laugh, then cradles your head.  “Go to bed, sweet pea.” He kisses your temple. “I’ll be there in a li’l bit.” 

You take the flannel off and get in bed, still smelling like the fire. You think of getting naked, eager to feel Joel however he wants you. But maybe he likes undressing you, and it’s chillier than normal, too.  You lay under the covers getting wet and tingly thinking about what he'll do when he comes to bed.  

The fire is still blazing.  There’s no sign of him putting it out.  It doesn't seem like he's coming in soon, but you're too turned on to just go to sleep. You close your eyes, recalling the feeling of Joel’s warm skin on your lips by the fire.  The way his eyes sparkled. The way he always opens his arms for you to get in his lap–that seat is always yours whenever you want it. 

You think about how handsome he is. Even, or especially when he’s looking rough.  All dirty and beat up when he got home that one night, muscles pumped up. His sexy stitches. You play a montage in your head of all the times you’ve heard him yell, seen him stomp around ordering guys to do this or that. How fiercely he protects you. Your lip creeps under your teeth and you close your eyes. 

All the way turned on, you slide your hand down between your legs and imagine him walking in and ravaging you.  You recall how urgently he fucked you at the kitchen table after he thought you almost died.  You recall the time he fucked you naked in missionary and and marked your neck.  You try to visualize the look in his eyes.

And then, when you’re just about to come, you remember that one morning. Those few seconds you kissed, when he kissed you back. He had pulled you into him before he knew what he was doing. You still savor that fleeting moment he was grinding against you, his plush lips locked with yours. You can practically feel it.  And that’s enough to put you over the edge. You turn your head into the pillow and brace for your orgasm. 

—----- JOEL —------

You must think Joel can't hear your pretty little sounds when you touch yourself, but over the crackling of the fire he could swear he hears you moan into a pillow. His nose can't help but twitch into a little smile. He lets the fire die as he finishes the 'E',  then he comes inside and washes off the smoke in the shower. By the time he gets in bed, you're asleep on your back with your left arm on your chest. 

He carefully gets into the bed, spreading his weight out to not jostle the mattress. He's to your left, lying on his side, facing you. You’re so pretty and peaceful with your eyes closed and your sweet lips just slightly parted. An urge has been growing in his chest. He’s tried to push it away, but it's only grown, and he's afraid he can’t stop it happening. 

He can’t bring himself to do it when you’re awake. He can’t let himself see how happy it makes you. The loss feels inevitable, and it gets closer and closer.  The panic he felt when FEDRA had you on the ground.  The devastation when it sounded like you were shot outside his own trailer. It gets worse every time. And last time, there was something new. Two losses flashed before his eyes.  The loss of you (in the present and future), and the loss of what could have been–at least for a while, when he had the chance. The worst part is, he doesn't know which would hurt more.  

His eyes fall on your mouth again. 

If he does it now, it won’t mean anything. It won’t change anything. If he does it now, maybe this urge will stop pulling at him every time you’re close.  And then he can tell himself it never happened. Yeah, if he does it now, it can be like it never happened. Like he never let himself get that close, never gave you hope that he could be anything more than the terrible man he is. 

His lip twitches as he watches you sleep.  Then his breathing syncs with yours, and for a moment, everything fades away but you and him and the physical need that's tugging at him.  

Joel leans over you, careful not to wake you, and he hovers over your pretty face. It's happening. His heart races as his face drifts toward yours, drawn to you like a magnet. 

He closes his eyes, presses his lips gently into yours, and something rushes through his blood to every part of his body.  Fuck.  He's instantly soothed. With your lips still locked, he takes one breath through his nose then pulls away. He takes a deep breath, expecting the buzz to fade, expecting to hate himself. But you're so pretty and your lips were so soft. He almost chokes on his own saliva.  He's quickly gotten hard.

Still fast asleep, you sigh and your nose twitches. You hum the prettiest little "mm," and roll over on your right, facing away from him like you normally sleep. 

He pinches his eyes shut tight. He has to have you. 

–

Joel curls himself around you, inhales your hair, and cups your breast. He presses his cock against you, hardening to full strength by now.  He lets out a deep but quiet, "Mmm," not enough to wake you up. The exposed skin of your back and shoulder is so inviting, he's salivating. His arm slides from your breast down your nightie to your mound and you sigh. He lifts his head to see if you're awake as he aimlessly caresses you over your nightie. Your brow furrows with his light touch. Aw, sweet pea, he thinks to himself. You're just so cute. He presses a gentle kiss into your neck where it meets your shoulder, and he begins to ghost your clit through the fabric. 

You sigh again, but still don't seem to wake up yet. He presses your mound so your hips tilt for him, and he pulls up the nightgown. He tests you with a finger and finds you wet but pulls back and pauses to add saliva to his tip.  He teases your entrance with his cock, and you sigh "Mmm, Joel," as you begin to stir awake. He pushes the curve of his tip just slightly inside, then holds your breast. 

He asks, “You 'wake?” 

“Mmm,” you answer weakly. 

"wake you up?" His cock prods at your tight, wet entrance, pushing in a little further.. He's itching to be inside you, but he's taking his time, captivated by your peacefulness. 

Your spine arches and you push back on him, taking another inch of his cock in with a moan as you stir awake. "Joel,” you sigh. 

He presses his lips into your neck and lets them linger.  You ask, "are you awake?" 

"Mm-hmm," he answers, his voice deep and gravely.  He groans softly as he pushes his cock into you. He takes a deep breath as your insides make room for him. It dawns on him that he's never taken the time to savor the moment your bodies are joined, but shit, it feels good. He didn't know it could feel so good like this. He’s feeling every groove of you in slow motion. Each centimeter of you greets him with a tight, warm hug.  You push back on him with a moan, bringing your bodies together. 

Oh, sweet pea. You want it so bad, and you take it so good.

—---YOU 🌸🫛—---

Joel’s cock spreads you apart and he buries his length in you slowly at first, palming your breasts. He pauses, all the way inside you, and removes your nightie so your naked bodies are flush. It feels like a dream. The way he kissed your shoulder, the way he’s fucking you right now with his whole body cradling yours, each thrust so deliberate, you can’t help but still wonder if he’s truly awake. If you're truly awake. He grunts softly each time he bottoms out. His sighs and moans are deep and gravely. 

“Sweet pea,” he whispers against your neck, “ohhhh, you — ohh, you take it so good, baby.” His hand slides down your stomach, between your legs. He whispers in your ear,  "God DAMN, youfeelsogood,” he inhales sharply, then sighs your name.  Your nipples harden and you get goosebumps. 

“Joel,” you whimper at his fingers on your clit.  The fullness of his cock was enough, and the addition of his hand has you twitching already.  

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispers, and his voice is so soothing, you relax again. He slows down his pace, his length sliding snugly into your warmth slow enough to feel the drag of his tip inside you. He touches your clit and you whimper again. He adjusts his hand to touch it less directly, pulsing his flattened fingers.  That’s what you need. You moan. 

“Good girl.” 

You wanna ask him again if he’s really awake, but you don’t want to break the spell. You let the silence linger, peppered with moans and sighs from each of you. You’d love for this to last forever. You love every way he gives it to you, but the newness of this is something to savor. After a few minutes, sweat begins to bead and run between your bodies.  You’re both breathing heavily. He gropes at your breasts and the entire front of your body, like he can’t get you close enough. His breathing gets ragged.  You memorize the feel of his cock dragging thick and slow inside you.  Then he adds his hand again. His thrusts become more powerful.  “Come for me, I want you to– nnngh.” 

“Joel,” you whine. 

‘Ohh,” he moans. 

“Joel, I’m–”

“Go ‘head, baby—ugghh—-you can do it”

Your upper back presses into his chest.  He groans and holds you tight as you convulse against him and choke his cock with your climax. “Ohhhh, baby, mmmm.” He bottoms out and pulses inside you as you’re still coming.  He sighs "ohhh," as he fills you up with his warm release. Your body hugs him more with every pulse of his cock.  

When you’re both finished coming, your bodies are still joined. You relish the fullness of him inside you.  You expect him to pull out any minute, but his breathing regulates with yours. 

At some point, Joel's breath stutters abruptly, and you realize he's fallen asleep like this. Holding you close, body curled around you, cock gradually softening inside you. It isn't long until you drift off, too. 

-

Smut continues here: asleep inside

Next major chapter: hunger

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Please consider commenting or reblogging to show raider Joel your love, even if this post is old. 💖 Love you guys. I love your passion for him. Your engagement motivates me. <333

Friendly reminder that there will be no pregnancy in this fic, Joel was snipped pre outbreak. 

----

@toxicfics for notifications, make sure your phone is set to enable push notifications from tumblr. Some of my fics are pretty dark!

⚠️ Since so many people are saying tags aren't working, I may discontinue the tag list soon, sorry ⚠️

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 38 || The Dark Red

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, heavy angst, a tinge of fluff, & sexual tension.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 6.1k

[ { A/N } ] ➤ And yes, the chapter title is a Steve Lacy reference :)

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——YOU'RE DREAMING. THAT HAS to be the only logical explanation as to how and why you're face to face with Choso Kamo who's just given himself to you for the second time and has gone as far as tattooing your name on him to show you how serious he is.

What exactly have you done to make this man so dedicated to you? Hell, you hardly know why Gojo's even in love with you so, the chances of you figuring out Choso's feelings are damn there impossible.

Brown irises gaze into your eyes in casualty as the man awaits your proper reaction. The reaction in which he waits on took a few seconds because you had a hard time processing this.

See, here's the difference between Choso and Gojo...

Gojo Satoru has committed more wrongs than rights by you and nothing is going to change that. However, the man is willing and tries his best to spend every last dollar on you just to put one smile on your face to make up for each smile he'd taken from you.

Now, Choso Kamo has treated you with nothing but utmost respect while keeping his red flags hidden from your view. Well, they weren't that hidden, you just ignored them. Even so, while he doesn't have the funds to spoil you as he wishes he could, he makes up for that by dedicating his free time to crafting everlasting surprises and gifts for you.

Materialistically speaking, Choso is more ideal here because the things he gives you cannot be bought with money. Sure, Gojo could buy a painting off the street or ask to get you professionally painted, but that'll never compare to the raw and unfiltered emotions Choso captures in his art due to his feelings for you.

And again, how many times do you need to be reminded that Gojo's sugar-coated words, pretty teary confessions, and precious expensive gifts do not make up for his blackmail?

Not to mention, even though he says he loves you and claims to no longer want to hurt you, he's never once said the list was over. Would it not be easy for him to spare you the last person and just say you don't have to seduce Nanami? No, because Gojo had never intended for the list to end until its completion.

Stop forgetting the stress and trauma this situation has given you. For a long time, you felt like nothing more than a tool, this situation has made it difficult for you to trust those around you, it's made you cry yourself to sleep on countless nights, and you're pretty sure you were straight up depressed in the beginning.

That being said, Gojo can't make up for all of that just by speaking to you so softly and saying such loving words.

Yet, even so, you're still conflicted because it's those same words of his that's caused you to view it all differently.

Blinking out of your thoughts, you return focus to Choso with a sigh.

You didn't even realize it but after such an eventful and emotional day, tears just began rolling down your cheeks. With a steady beating heart, you were so choked up with confusion and guilt and regret, all different kinds of feelings eating away at your insides.

Visibly seeing how devoted to you Choso was pulled all of your anxiety and repressed emotions right out of you.

Why does it have to be you in this position? Why does it have to be Choso who's fallen victim to catching feelings for you so much so to the point where he's printed your name on him? Why? Why, why, why, why, why?

Oh what sweet sorrow it is to be in this situation.

You couldn't take it anymore. No longer could you hold in the impending breakdown of yours. As of now, you were literally sitting in front of Choso wearing a necklace Gojo probably spent thousands on. You were always thinking about the other guy while you were with either of them and the conflict finally caught up to you.

Your head shakes softly and you're trying not to sob but everything is just pouring out so suddenly, "C-Choso-," Your breath is caught in your throat, "Why are you so..." Your words fall off your tongue as your face twists up in sadness.

Choso's eyes go wide and he quickly realizes that instead of tears of joy like earlier, these are pure tears of unhappiness. His heart sinks in his chest and his terrible anxiety levels skyrocket.

Choso moves to sit beside you and brings a hand to your face as he does so, trying to wipe your tears away, "S-Shit, baby I'm sorry." He's apologizing faster than he realizes, almost as if it were second nature, "I-I can get it removed, I d-didn't think you'd react like this, fuck. I'm sorry, please-"

"Choso," You croak out, again shaking your head, "It's not you..."

Your voice was so fractured and spoken through heavy tears that it simply broke his heart. The last time Choso saw you cry before today was slightly when he left but it was never to this degree. He doesn't know how to handle this.

One thing about Choso Kamo is that he's a very anxious man. He uncontrollably waits for the worst to happen, he expects people to tell him the worst things, and he's used to experiencing bad situations. This is why he hated the uncertainty, because this is what it leads to; sudden heartbreak.

His hands are sweating and trembling against your skin while his shaky thumbs try to rid your pretty face of the tears. Choso's breathing is unsteady and he's blaming himself heavily, despite you just telling him it's not his fault.

"It has to be me," Choso hushes out, his own eyes glossing over, "I had a feeling it might be too much but I still got the tatt' anyways, this is my fault. I'm sorry, princess." He urges his apology out, quick to take the blame no matter what you say.

Your lower lip quivers terribly and you meet his eyes through hazy vision, "It's n-not you," You whine, "C-Choso t-there's..." You're blabbering before you can stop yourself, "There's s-someone else."

The man's blood ran cold.

His body trembles and trembles before he just... stills. His teary eyes slowly went dry as he blinked and processed what the hell you just said to him.

Choso knew it. He fucking knew this would happen.

"What?" Choso questions. His voice is so empty and dry of anything that you can no longer decipher what he's feeling.

It was the worst possibility by far. Choso isn't insecure or anything but he had his doubts. When he looks at you, he sees a woman of perfection so naturally, he envisions that he's not the only guy who sees that in you.

When you don't say anything and just sit there sobbing, Choso gathers that he didn't imagine your words. "This is because I left, isn't it?" He whispers, almost like he's voicing his thoughts, "Are they... W-When you say there's someone else, what do you mean?"

You sniffle and let out a slight hiccup, "H-He just... I'm c-confused, Cho. I-I want you but I'm n-not ready for a relationship and-"

"Is he the reason?" Choso cuts off coldly.

Technically yes but, you're not telling Choso that. "N-No, that's still me. I just... I shouldn't feel anything for him because h-he's an asshole and I'm supposed to hate him but he's been so fucking sweet and I can't ignore it anymore," Your words come out broken and choked, all being forced in between your tears.

"Oh..." Choso hums. Then, he takes his hands off you and lets you cry freely. It still hurts him to see you so upset but it's pissing him off that someone else has taken his place since he left. And no, he's not mad at you but, moreso himself. "It's that guy who made you cry before," Choso recalls, vividly remembering it all.

You just nod, lifting your hands to wipe your tears since he stopped. "And then..." You sniffle, "You left me and I was sad and angry and at f-first he made it worse b-but then he started to confuse me b-by confessing to me, and now I..." You couldn't even finish before you just started uncontrollably crying.

The man beside you just watches the tears fall from your face. It's all his fault-- or at least, that's what he thinks anyway. There's another guy and he blames himself for distancing himself in the first place. Had it not been for that you wouldn't be crying right now, right?

A tsunami of self-hate crashes over Choso and he simply drowns in the feeling. He despises the fact that this could've been avoided. Maybe he should've never gotten the tattoo? Maybe that's also why? Fuck, what the hell is he supposed to do right now? How does he comfort you?

Your hands go up and you cover your face, weeping so terribly at the entire situation. You no longer cared that Choso was seeing you like this because you didn't have it in you to contain all these emotions you've been feeling. You've been wanting to cry all day, especially when Gojo gave you that damn necklace.

Speaking of which, it's still around your neck.

As Choso panics and his brain goes frantic whilst trying to figure out the proper thing to say or do, his eyes suddenly catch sight of the jewelry in question. He's no stranger to accessories, especially the ones you wear so, it doesn't take much thought to realize that not only is the item expensive but it's also new.

His mouth is moving on his own and Choso fails to hold his tongue, "Is that from him?"

You move to wipe your eyes with your sleeves and then look at Choso for only a second before dropping your gaze down to where his is. "Yeah," You sap, only saddened more and more by the second.

A hand is lifted to the item and you watch Choso run his fingers beneath the item for a long moment. He's deep in thought, still trying to figure out how he should handle this situation.

"I-It's his Christmas gift to me," You continue, seeing no point in lying or avoiding an explanation, "T-That's why I'm so... S-So damn-," You sniffle again, "E-Emotional. First him with this and then y-you with the painting and the tattoo and I just don't get it. Nothing makes sense anymore. I think I want you b-but I also think I want him a-and he's bad for me but he can also be so fucking good to me, and I just-"

Choso cuts you off by voicing your name in an emotionless tone. He realizes where he needs to take this conversation and before he gets pissed off, he wants to stop you from talking. His hand leaves your neck and he rests it in his lap, flicking his gaze back up to your eyes.

The man's eyes are still full of emotion, despite his dry tone, "You just told me a bunch of shit that has nothing to do with me." Choso says and he nearly sounds upset but he's not.

"I-I'm sorry," You frown and look away from him, feeling like he's mad at you. Which, wasn't exactly helping your scrambled emotions.

Choso shakes his head, "Don't be," His tone softens and he takes a really deep breath, "I'm not mad at you, princess. And uh, you have nothing to be sorry for."

You're still crying and your head is starting to hurt, "But-"

"No buts." He interrupts, "I uhm... I don't know why you started telling me about him?" Choso says in a questioning tone, chuckling a little. He then leans in closer to you, "Baby it's me and you right now." He emphasizes, angling his head to the side a little so that you can meet his gaze, "Hey, look at me."

You struggle to, biting your lower lip and just barely placing your eyes on his.

"That's it," Choso praises, his voice now as gentle as it should've been from the beginning. "It's just me and you, princess. Don't compare what I do to what he's done because none of that matters when you're with me."

"Choso I..." You trail off, your crying continuing as you go unsure of what to say.

"If it's too much, I can get the tattoo removed. It's not that big of a deal, trust me I won't be upset. And, while I'm glad you told me that there's another guy," Choso sighs heavily, "I don't need you to tell me about what he does or doesn't do for you."

You swallow and simply keep your weeping eyes on his as he speaks.

He's clearly calmed down from the initial emotions he felt and he knows how to speak to you in a way that makes you feel comforted, "I don't care about what he says to you or what he buys for you and you shouldn't either. If he's an asshole, let him be that. Why would you let him bring you to these emotions?"

"Because Choso," You try not to choke over your words, "He just..."

"Does he tell you he loves you? Is that why?" Choso asks carefully.

You nod your head yes.

Choso comforts you with a little smile, "I mean... I do too." He suddenly says.

"W-What?" You whisper, confused by his words.

The man shrugs, "I love you," Choso claims proudly, his affirmation caressing the wounds of your poor confused heart in more ways than one. "In case I haven't made that clear, especially after two months of separation..." His hands move to yours and he holds them tightly while gazing into your eyes, "I love you."

"C-Choso, you don't... you're joking, r-right?" You whine, your voice light and airy as you only continue to sink into your sadness.

He shakes his head, "No, princess. I mean it, I'm in love with you. This isn't exactly how I planned on confessing but," He shrugs a little, "You need to know. I'm not that other guy so, I-I can't make it sound all pretty or buy you the world like he probably can but..."

You stare at him with wide eyes as you await his next words.

Choso leans closer to you, his grasp on your hands tightening before he pulls them up to his mouth and kisses across your knuckles, "I can give you mine. Can't' buy you the world baby but, I can give you all I have. M'not rich like him so I can't buy your smiles b-but," He stammers over his words as he grows nervous, "I can give you the best parts of me."

"Choso..." You just frown. You've never known how exactly to respond to these confessions.

"All I can do is hope that's enough," Choso continues, "I hope I'm enough, baby."

"Y-You are Choso," You say quickly, "You're more than enough for m-me. I'm just... I'm just dumb and I c-can't pick," You ramble, suddenly degrading yourself as you place the blame for it all on yourself. You close your eyes, "It's all my fault, I shouldn't be doing this to you, you don't deserve this. I-If it wasn't for-"

"Hey, stop that," Choso interrupts, "Don't... Don't blame yourself. You can't control people falling for you. You can control how people treat you or how they confuse you-"

"It is my fault though," You cut off, opening your soaked eyes, "M-Maybe if I... If I just..." You couldn't even get it out because that would mean revealing the list. Instead, your brows tense and your sobbing furthers, "If I just... i-ignored y-you... and m-maybe him-"

A pair of hands gently cup your face and Choso pulls you to him, "It's not your fault." He whispers.

"But I-"

He utters your name, "Stop. It's not your fault, okay?"

"Then who's is it if not mine?" You whine, "Hm? Who do I blame-"

"Everyone else," Choso says, "Blame me, blame him, it doesn't matter. Just, don't blame yourself when it's not your fault."

"I-"

Your name is spoken, "It is not your fault." Choso voices out yet again, "I mean, I... I always had a feeling, y'know? Like, I was always scared of this."

Your brows tense more than they already are, "S-Scared of what?"

"Losing you to someone else," Choso explains, "When you said you weren't ready for a relationship, I knew I had to distance myself but... Had I known this would happen, I would've never left. I don't know if it's because of him that you didn't want a relationship but-"

"I-It's not, I swear Choso, that's just me." You're sure to make sure it's clear that everything is coming from you and not because of anything else, "I'm just not ready for one. It has nothing to do with you or him, it's just me."

"So, if he asked to be your boyfriend like I did, what would you say?"

"He wouldn't." You hum, "That's the thing, Cho. He's in love with me but he acts like he's not allowed to be and then he'll purposefully be an asshole to try and push me away. All of that on top of the fact that he's keeping things from me that'll change the way I see him and-"

"Baby," Choso calls softly, "It sounds like... I dunno it just seems like when choosing between me and him, your choice should be as clear as day." He says, "He's complicated and I'm not. What's the real reason as to why it's hard for you to pick?"

"Choso... You don't get it." You cry, "He'd tell me how I make him whole. How he'd do anything for me. H-How I'm his eternity. How... e-even in death... his heart would beat for me." You choke out, crying as you recite the words of another man to one who loves you just as much.

The male beside you nods understandingly, "So it is his words?"

"N-No, I-"

"Do you think I wouldn't do the same?" Choso cuts off passionately. "He may die for you but darling, I'm willing to live for you."

Your breath hitches, "I-"

"You're his eternity and an eternity is exactly what I'd wait for you to come running into my arms," There's not an ounce of hesitation in his words, each syllable coated with genuine love, "I will wait for you until you tell me not to. I'm yours even if you aren't mine."

"Choso, please-"

"I crave you. Only you. Your touch, your stares, your smile, your smell, your laughter, your love-- you are the only person I want." Choso pours out, "I will never love anyone the way I love you. Even if you tell me to move on, even if I end up with someone else, never will I be able to experience the bliss that is yearning for you again."

You smile through your tears, "I t-thought you weren't good with words?"

"I'm not," Choso chuckles breathily, "But... T-There's things I've rehearsed saying to you, I just needed to wait for the right time."

"And now's that time?"

"Now is that time." He confirms, "You make me nervous, y'know? I get shy around you, I start sweating, I stammer on my words sometimes, and I love the eye contact but your gaze mesmerizes me. I'm stuck in a sense of wanting to break and continue the eye contact at the same time." Choso admits to you.

There's this blooming in the pit of your stomach as you listen to him, all while still looking into his eyes and holding his hands. "Choso you don't have to force yourself to say these things..."

"It's not forced, trust me. I mean every word but, I'm usually not good at getting them out." He shrugs a little, "So, to make up for that, I try to put it into my art. This is why I call you my muse. Every artistic thing I've done recently has been done with you in mind."

"Choso I can't..." You sniffle strongly, "I don't know what t-to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I..." He takes a deep breath, "I've been trying to work up the courage and tell you all this for months. Before I left, I should've said every word on that damn painting to you. I should've told you about how hard I've fallen for you."

Your crying is a bit more at ease now, having slowed down simply because of his caressing tone and his well-thought-out words.

"Again, words aren't my thing and they never will be but," A single tear trickles out of his eyes, "Please hear me when I say I'm all yours. I will wait and wait and wait for you to want me, to accept me, and to have me. If I was given one purpose in this world it's to love you, to cherish you as if you were my last breath, to make you happy by any means, and t-to... to be or do whatever it is you want me to."

God damn. What are you supposed to make of such a confession? First Gojo and now Choso. Both of their confessions weigh heavy in your mind. You don't even know who's would be considered better or who's you'd want to accept and fall for.

Blinking away what's left of your tears, you pull a hand from his grasp and wipe away the single tear that he let slip out, smiling softly but brokenly at the man, "Choso, you liar," You say teasingly, "You're perfect with words."

"A-Am I as good as him?" Choso questions, a slight pout taking over his expression. He's not sure where it came from but he was suddenly comparing himself to whoever his competition is.

You tilt your head, "That doesn't matter, remember?" You whisper, moving to hold the side of his face with your hand, "It's jus' you and me, right?"

He chuckles a little, "Yeah... S-Sorry..."

"It's okay," Your words are coming out more lovingly than you knew.

"U-Uhm, and if none of that was direct enough," Choso leans into your touch before bringing his hand over your own, "I'll say it as many times as needed; I love you. You make me feel so comfortable, so secure without even saying anything, I wish I... I wish I could explain it more... I wish I could audibly paint the feelings you give me."

"It's okay, Choso. I don't need you to say it, I can feel and see it," You reply. Your voice is a bit hoarse now from the crying but neither of you mind.

"Unlike my normal work, it'd be so vibrant and filled with so many shades," Choso expresses artistically, "Every moment with you gives me a reason to be. I want to be able to love you in every way possible so that you can understand it. Please allow me to adorn you with my love, let me illustrate my feelings into your heart."

You smile fully, unable to stop yourself, "That's so beautiful, Cho. Who am I to deny you of such a request?"

His expression mirrors your own, a sappy emotional smile spreading across his face, "I love you so much."

The words begin to leave your lips without you even thinking, "I lo-"

"Don't," He cuts off carefully, "Don't say it back until you're ready."

"But," You swallow down the claim, "What if I'm ready now?"

"You're not." He chuckles lightly.

Your brows furrow, "How do you know?"

"Because," Choso sighs, "You're just not. You and I both will know when you're ready. But as of now, you're not."

"But-"

"No buts, princess."

A pout takes over your expression, "So how am I supposed to respond to you saying you love me?"

He shrugs, "Say thank you." Choso chuckles playfully.

"Thank you??" You scoff, "That feels mean."

"Saying it back without meaning it or knowing if that's how you really feel is mean," Choso explains, "I'd prefer you either say nothing or say thank you, you know how I feel about lies..."

Your voice gets stuck somewhere in your throat. Of course he'd say that now after you'd been lying to him since the day you met him. Well, does not telling him about the list really count as a lie?

You're not sure but you sigh at the man, "Okay, fine. Thank you for loving me, Choso."

He flashes that sexy yet lazy smile of his, "You're welcome, baby."

With that, you were suddenly feeling how you normally feel with Choso-- at peace. You didn't realize it but the two of your souls had found a heavy sense of salvation in one another, your hearts and minds binding together unconsciously as your eyes gazed into his.

Sanctuary was discovered within his eyes and you knew in that moment that Choso meant it when he said he'd wait for you. As long as it takes, as long as you needed, he'd be there for you when you were ready. Part of you wishes this conversation had taken place before he left, maybe things would have gone differently...

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"So uhm," Choso starts up again after a while, breaking the eye contact and looking down to his waist for a moment, "Do I really have to get it removed?"

"Uhm..." You think for a second and then shrug, "It's up to you, Cho. It's your body-"

"No," He cuts off, looking up and into your eyes once more, "I belong to you."

That makes your heart skip a beat or two. Choso says it so openly and quickly that it's almost frightening. How can someone be so devoted to you?

"Choso, you do know you're your own person, right?" You hum, laughing a little.

He shrugs, "I mean, in a literal sense, yes. But even so," He turns to face you a bit more, "I'm still yours."

"Yeah?" You whisper.

Choso bites his lower lip and glances down to your lips, "Yes baby, m'all yours."

Your hand goes to his jaw and you caress his skin with your thumb as the two of you peer into one another's eyes, "Even after I told you there's someone else?"

"Told' you I don't give a shit about him," Choso spits out, one of his hands going to your waist and casually tugging you a bit closer, "You could go tell him for all I care, tell him you don't need him because you have me."

You chuckle, "That's not nice, Cho."

"Ask me if I care." He says, his voice lowering, "He hurt your feelings and confused you so, why can't you hurt his?"

You roll your eyes playfully at Choso's words, "It's not that simple, baby."

"Yes it is-," He pauses. "Wait, what?" Choso blinks, trying to figure out if he misheard you, "What'd you just say?"

"I said it's not that simple," You tease.

He shakes his head, "Nahh, what'd you say after that? What'd you call me?"

"I didn't call you anything."

"Yes you did, you called me baby," Choso says.

"I-" You're cut off by him tugging you by your waist and then pulling your leg over him.

The man situates you in his lap, "Say it again." He orders.

"W-What?" You laugh nervously, "Say what again, Cho?"

"C'mon, call me that again." Choso requests, "Please?"

"Call you what?? Cho?" You ask innocently.

He pouts and his hands slip under your shirt, his fingers warm as they trace the frame of your waist, "Call me baby again."

"Why?" You hum as you tilt your head at him.

Choso grips onto your sides and you feel his hips lift into you ever so slightly, making your breath stutter. "Because I liked it, I like any nickname you call me." He claims.

You chuckle at him and move to cup his face in your palms, soon swiping your thumb under his eye to rid the residue of his tear, "You're so cute, Choso."

He bites his lip, "Am I?"

"Mhm." You hum.

"What else?" Choso asks, raising a brow.

"You want me to say more??" You scoff a little, "Want' me to start listing the things I like about you?"

He shrugs a little, "After hearing that I have competition... I won't lie, it'd be nice to know what you like about me..."

You release a soft sigh, "Well... I actually love the way you look at me."

"Love?" Choso echos, "You love the way I look at you?"

Your head nods, "Mhm."

"Why?"

"It's like... I dunno, I feel seen. But not in a physical or literal sense," You try to explain as best as you can, "In like, a spiritual sense almost? It's like you see... me?"

Choso smiles at you, "I get what you mean."

"Yeah, well, I really love that. Uhm, I also like your face," You murmur, squishing his cheeks in your hand a little as you do so, to which he laughs. "Sometimes you can be really cute and other times you can be really sexy."

"Yeah?" Choso's cheesing at this point, "Which do you prefer?"

"I dunno, I like you both ways." You tell him with a little shrug.

"Mhm..." The male nods his head, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I also like how family-oriented you are," You point out, "The way you care for Yuji is so admirable."

"Is it really?"

"Yeah, and it's cute the way you boast about him and your other brothers," You say.

Choso shrugs, "I didn't think anyone would pay that much attention to the way I talk about them."

"I do."

"And that's exactly why I love you."

You smile, "Right. Now, since we're on that topic, tell me why."

"Why I love you?" He asks with a slight tilt of his head.

Your hands slip down from his face and snake around his neck as you lean into him a little, "Mhm."

"Your fuckin' eyes," Choso breathes out, "From the day we ran into each other in the hallway, I've been obsessed. I love your eyes. I love it when you look at me, even when you're mad or sad, I can't help but love all the things I see in your eyes."

You bat your eyelashes at him, "Aw, really?"

"Yeah, you say so many things through your gaze." Choso expresses, "I always pay attention to them."

"Is that your favorite thing about me or something?" You giggle.

"I think so, yeah," He grins, "It's hard to pick just one thing but yeah, that might be my favorite."

Your smile grows and the male below you is so enamored by you.

"Even when we'd uh... y'know... I'll always prefer to be able to look you in the eyes," Choso claims.

You raise a brow and act innocent, "When we what?"

"You know what."

"No, I don't..."

"When we fuck, princess." Choso says with a sassy roll of his eyes, "I like watching the way your eyes roll back when my cock is stuffed inside you jus' right-"

"Holy f-fuck, okay, okay, you didn't have to say all that," You rush out to the man, your face heating up.

He snickers, "Why? Are you still embarrassed about the things we've done?"

"K-Kinda..." You murmur.

"Aww, that's so cute," Choso coos, "Remember when I made you squirt all over my car seats?"

Your eyes widen, "Choso-"

"Or that time you passed out on me because I was eating you out for too long."

"Choso I swear-"

He smirks, knowing his words are riling you up, "Fuck, wait, or that time you had my legs shaking because of how good you rode me-"

"Choso!" You cut off, your eyes widening and your arousal suddenly increasing as you recall each time, "I r-remember it all, you don't have to remind me."

"My bad..." He murmurs innocently. Then, he tips his head to the side, "Do you really remember though?"

You roll your eyes, "Of course I remember."

"No, not just the sex itself," Choso goes on to explain, "Do you remember how it felt?"

"Duh-"

One of his hands shifts from your waist and to your stomach, pushing against your skin slightly, "No baby, do you remember how deep inside you my cock goes?"

Your breathing grows a bit heavier, "Y-Yeah-"

"Tell me then," Choso smirks mischievously, "Explain to me where you usually feel me."

"C-Choso-"

"Nope, don't C-Choso me," The man mocks you dramatically, making his voice all high-pitched for a second to tease you, "Explain it to me or I'll remind you," He says in a surprisingly lowered voice.

Your eyes narrow at the way he mocked you and you then roll your eyes. "Remind me then."

"Askin' or tellin' me to?" Choso questions for clarification.

You send him a serious look, "I'm telling you to." You reply, moving your hands to his shoulders, "Remind me how deep inside me you reach."

Choso swallows, "Verbally or physically?"

"Maybe both," You shrug.

He smirks and his hands slip down to your hips. As soon as his fingers settle in place, you roll your crotch forward a little and he inhales sharply.

"Both?" Choso whispers out.

"You heard me," You hum.

He pulls his lower lip into his mouth for a second before you suddenly grind yourself backward and make his brows furrowed and his lips part to release a breath of air.

"Shit," Choso curses.

You lean closer to his face and arch your back a little as you do so, pressing your chest against his, "C'mon now, baby. Remind me how deep inside me you reach."

His cock twitches to life at the sound of the nickname and your sudden sultry tone, "You know how deep inside you I reach, princess."

You shake your head, "I don't care, remind me."

Choso tips his head back against the couch and smiles, "You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

"Did I not make it obvious enough yet?" You ask, tilting your head.

Choso gently humps his growing erection up against your warmth, "It's been a minute, princess..."

"So?"

"I'm really pent up," Choso explains, "You sure you want me to take that out on you?"

You bite your lower lip in thought, "Mhm." You hum in response after a minute.

He scoffs, "Yeah?" Choso licks his lips, "I went two months without you... Do you know what that does to a man?"

"Two months without pussy?" You purposefully chuckle at him in a taunting manner, "I'm sure you're fine-"

Choso groans out your name and his eyelids lower, "I'm about to fuck the shit outta' you."

"Do it then." You challenged.

How did you two go from confessing to here? You don't know and you don't think you really care. After all, it's not the first time sex has been intertwined with emotions. And when it's Choso, you're all the more excited for it.

He sighs loudly, "Before I do, remember' our safe word?"

Oh, you'd almost forgotten. The two of you did end up needing one... Especially after the man would eat you out until he wasn't even breathing anymore. He nearly passed out on you a few times because he'd forgotten to breathe. Plus, Choso tended to get rough every now and then.

"Vanilla," You chuckle out, "Don't worry, I remember."

He nods, "Good," Choso then leans forward and kisses you briefly, "Cause' I'm about to fuck you til' your cum is all over my legs."

And just like that, you were ridiculously horny. "Fuck, that's so..." You swallow down your words, "S-Since when do you talk like that, Cho?"

He stares at you with lustful eyes, "Since I went two months without you." Choso claims, "I told you... I'm really pent up."

"You poor thing," You murmur, purposefully frowning at him.

"Don't tease me." He grunts.

"It's okay, Cho..." You whisper, leaning toward him again, "You can take it all out on me."

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[babygirl-riley]

Hi can i please request something where simon and his wife find out one of their kid's friends has abusive parents so they decide to adopt them😢💔

Guardian Angels

You noticed it, the bruise, the way the little girl would ask things. So when you brought it up to Simon, immediate action came through

A/N: OH MY HELL, this hurts a lot. But I am so glad that the child will have a safe and loving home. My heart HURTS!

Hope this is something that was worth waiting for! 😌

Warnings: mentions of abuse, physical abuse, neglect abuse, childhood trauma, child abuse, angst, trauma, PURE FUCKING DEPRESSION, fluff, wife!reader, husband!simon, swearing

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

You froze, your blood turning ice cold, your heart breaking. You noticed a small scratch on the child, when you lifted their shirt it was worse. “I got into the snacks. Daddy didn’t like it.” She whispered holding back the tears.

You inhaled deeply feeling the shake of it. You never would believe it. No way someone would hurt a 6 year old child. The puzzle pieces started to form together, the way that she would flinch whenever you would lift a finger. The way she would be shocked about handing her a snack. A small snack anything. It made your heart break even more knowing that there were signs.

“What about your mom? Where is she?” You asked softly putting her shirt down.

She looked away from you. “I don’t know.”

You looked into her beautiful blue eyes. God a child. You nodded and told her that she was spending the night, that you would talk to her dad. Luckily her dad approved acting like nothing was going on. You noted that you would drop her off the next day. You called Simon right after that.

“I’m almost done here sweethear.’ Do you need me to pick anything up for dinner?” He asked sweetly right when he picked up.

It was silent on your end. Making him perk up a bit. Until he heard the sob. A sob that he never heard before, he adjusted himself. “What’s wrong,” He asked softly but with concern. When you kept quietly sobbing he started to pack up. “I’m comin’ home.”

“Okay…I will tell you when you get here.” You choked out in more sobs. Trying to get yourself together, hearing little footsteps pattering outside your bedroom door.

“Mummy,” Your daughter said through the door. “Lilli and I want pizza! Can we get pizza!”

“Of course hun, one second mommy is in the phone. I will let daddy go grab some!” You said back in which you heard little cheers before the footsteps sprinted away. “Grab pizza.”

“‘lright then I will be home soon. I love ya.” He whispered feeling more concerned.

The girls were excited to see Simon coming in with pizza. Your daughter running to him squeezing his leg, giggling when he moved his leg up to walk forward as she clinged harder. You looked over at Lilli who stood in the corner waiting for him. She just watched as he placed the pizza down on the counter then looked up at you.

“Is it okay I can eat?” She mumbled. You nodded and knelt down.

“You can always eat here sweet girl.” You whispered as her face beamed running over to your daughter.

Simon looked over at you as he placed pizzas on plates. You still stood in the hallway, hugging yourself. He looked down at Lilli. “Here Lills use both hands, go sit with Millie. Y/n and I will join soon yeah?”

She cautiously and gently grabbed the plate from him. “Thank you.” She whispered before sprinting to sit next to Millie.

Simon came and kissed you softly. “Let’s go to the room.” He mumbled before you followed him in.

Right when the door shut the sob came out. Simon quickly grabbed you pulling you into a hug. “Love, what’s goin’ on?”

After a few quick breaths you spoke. Explaining everything, from the time he was out on his 3 month assignment and finding the bruises and cuts. Simon listened to every word, asking questions to make sure you knew what you saw. That it wasn’t just a kid being a kid.

Simon’s leg was bouncing hard up and down. You knew of his past, you knew saying these things would bring up memories of his that he tucks so far away from him, was coming to light. Simon stared at the wall for a moment, thinking. He knew the signs well, it was the same signs he gave when his father would beat him and his brother.

He thought about every scenario, the first one was to go to the bastards home and beat him until he saw god himself. Kill him and possibly have the team help cover it up. Make the man get the taste of his own medicine.

Simon thought about how tiny Lilli is, how quiet she would be when he would come around. It wasn’t for a couple months before she warmed up to Simon. Loved playing with him when his daughter would invite for a tea time. Would always sit on the other side of him when watching movies. It was like she was a Riley.

Simon thought of the time when he was her age. The things his father would do to him. “Do you think he ever…”

“Let’s not think that,” He said quickly shaking his head. You nodded and sighed he knew you were worried about him too. The way you waited and watched him. “We have to get her out.” He said darkly, trying to pull himself together. “Now. Not tomorrow now. We get pictures we get everything that we need to take it to the police.”

“How? I just don’t know what to do for tomorrow. These things take time what if…” You started to say before trailing off.

“Laswell,” Simon said standing up quickly. “I’m calling Laswell.”

Two years, it had been two years since that incident happened. It took months before having your daughter have her best friend become her sister. However, papers took longer than expected but court said that both of you can take her in, unless things changed. It made both you and Simon nervous. “We will keep goin’ day by day until we find out yeah?” Simon said comforting you as you shared your thoughts of how long it was taking.

But today was different, giggling and happy screaming echoing through the house. It was Lilli’s birthday, friends of her came and your family. Balloons and decorations plastered the home. Presents lined up neatly on a table as everyone talked to one another. The kids playing with each other.

You watched as Lilli and Millie played together with their cousins. You smiled as you placed some plates down to some guests. You felt a hand gently grab your shoulder. “Do ya have a second.’” Simon asked as you connected eye contact. When you nodded yes, he said he would meet in your shared room. You walked yourself up as you waited. When you heard the door open Lilli and Millie were with Simon.

“Daddy I was havin’ fun.” Millie groaned as she came next to you.

Simon smiled as he looked at both Lilli and Millie. You noticed his eyes were red. You frowned as you thought of the worst. “I wan’ to do this privately. Mum doesn’ even know,” He grabbed an envelope on his dresser looking at you and handing it. “Read it love.”

You curiously grabbed the envelope and grabbed the paper inside. You gasped as you clasp your hand on your mouth looking at Simon whose lips trembled. “What’s wrong?” Lilli’s voice said quietly. “They said no huh.” Looking away and Millie grabbed your leg about to cry.

Your heart broke but soon swelled when Simon knelt down to her. Gently placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, with tears in her eyes. Simon’s heart raced in excitement. Love. Relief. He heard his voice crack as he tried to say something. Then inhaled deeply. “No Lills you are now Lilli Riley. You are our babygirl now. Ya staying here forever.”

Lilli gasped as she looked up at you then at Simon. “Really! Thank youtha kyouthankyou!” She started crying as she wiped her eyes constantly.

Simon chuckled and nodded as he cried with her rubbing her shoulder. Millie yelled in joy and ran to her. “Lilli! Lilli! We can have forever sleepovers!”

Lilli giggled as she hugged Millie jumping up and down with her. You looked down at Lilli’s birth certificate and adoption papers. Stating that indeed Lilli is now yours. You looked at Simon as he wiped his eyes before looking at you smiling. Before he said anything he was tackled by the girls, the three of them laughing as they hugged.

“Mum come on!” Millie yelled as Lilli came to grab your hand to lead you to both Simon and Millie.

You went on the ground as both you and Simon hugged the girls. Your girls.

[cranberryjuice-posts]

Hi!! I love your Clarisse fan fics so much <3! I was wondering if you could right one with very very sweet reader being in a straight toxic/abusive relationship and she just takes it but never tells anyone. Her and Clarisse where enemy’s but secretly loved each other. Than one day reader was walking around with a bruise on her face horribly covered in concealer but if you were looking for something you could still see and Clarisse did, but not at first, she was coming up to you to bully you but than she saw the bruise and she got all upset and reader was confused because Clarisse always bullied her. Reader just brushed it aside and walked away but left her dagger at the table, so when Clarisse returned it she saw your boyfriend through the window smacking you in the face and she lost it. She didn’t even knock on the door she just bursted in and she didn’t want to make you upset so she grabbed you boyfriends arm and dragged him out to the forest and beat the living shit out of him. She ran back to see reader and comforted her and it ended up with both of them confessing their love for each other and maybe some fluff or smut towards the end, you choose! 💕💕

Thank you!!

Not talking bout boys

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Daughter of Aphrodite! Fem! Reader

An - yes reader has a bf them being a lesbian in the fic is important side note I have a smutty Abby fic and a cute fic for clarisse coming out on Valentine’s Day so look out for those two

CW - abusive relationships, dyke is used, religous trauma

Everyone knew who you were. You were a beautiful charming daughter of Aphrodite as well as the vice councilor for the Aphrodite cabin.

You were a sweet heart, always being the first to show the new kids around camp, ready to help settle disagreements and you were well known for being someone anybody could come to for relationship advice.

Ironic.

People would often tell you how much they wished they had a relationship like yours. Your boyfriend Logan a son of Athena. Brains and beauty that’s what everyone said about you.

Funny thing about people is that they never saw what happened behind closed doors. You tried not to blame him but it was hard not to.

Laying on the floor of the empty Aphrodite cabin your held yourself up with your hands, your tears dropping on the floor after he hit you, why? It could be for anything today however it was because you wore a too revealing top that attracted attention, attention that Logan didn’t like.

“Really?! How many times do I have to tell you to get it through your dumb fucking head huh?” Logan yelled at you, kneeling down he forced your head up. He glared at you for a moment before letting you go, grabbing you softly and hugging you. “I’m sorry baby” he kissed your shoulder.

“I’m sorry baby you know I don’t like hitting you but sometimes it’s the only thing I can do to get messages across” he frowned gently holding your face, his personality doing a complete 360 from before.

“I know” you whispered. Leaning into his touch you couldn’t help it. Something felt off however, his touch made you feel dirty and guilty, the furthest thing from love yet… yet you still forgave him and felt as though you needed him.

——

Days normally blured together, with mornings going normally with you slowly doing your makeup mainly because you wanted to look your best but also because you needed the extra time to cover the bruises — dozing off you hadn’t realized you used to little yellow concealer to hide the purple of the deep mark.

After about an hour you walked out of your cabin, walking towards the dining pavilion for breakfast. Being shoved to the side you watched as Clarisse softly laughed with her siblings clearly mocking you. “It’s impolite to not say excuse me” you softly spoke fixing yourself shirt.

Turning around she looked you up and down. You felt her gaze linger for a moment before turning more serious. “Go get your share I’ll catch up” she ordered at her siblings. Once they started to leave she harshly grabbed your chin turning it so your cheek was In direct sunlight. “The hell is this” she carefully examined the mark

“Nothing” confused you looked over at her slightly offended by the circumstances. “Besides why would you even care”

“Because I can— How the fuck did you get that bruise on your cheek? Someone deck you or something” she sarcastically laughed. Immediately you shook your head denying it. “No no I uh, I fell”

Clarisse looked down at you for a moment, taking her thumb she caressed the sensitive bruise. “Whatever… just be more careful” she let you go before leaving you alone, irritated and.. flustered?

——

You laid in bed looking up at the ceiling not able to think.

Reaching up to your chest you softly took the cross necklace, something your father had given you before you arrived at camp.

Thinking about your dad always brought bad memories, how he forced you into the church. The snobby kids and the religion forced down your throat. Not allowed to ask questions or question anything. But the thing that stuck with you the most was the treatment of gay people.

You personally had no problem with them, the gods themselves seem to be fine with homosexual relationships but… why did it always feel so weird to you. You knew things were different about you but this time you didn’t mean being a demigod.

The way you viewed your boyfriend vrs well.. clarisse of all people made you confused. When you were with Logan you didn’t feel the same butterflys as silena would constantly brag about getting with Charlie. When you kissed it felt forced, how his hands touched you it make you want to rip your skin out.

But..

How clarisse had grabbed your chin today… you rolled over and silently groaned into your pillow.

Clarisse the same girl that would shove you. The same girl that made fun of your archery skills and called you weak for being kind. The same girl that would gently run a hand around your waist when you were in line for food… clarisse the same girl, who looked at you differently from everyone.

Why did you feel like this, why did she out of everyone make you feel like an idiot, a love sick idiot at that.

You groaned once more into your pillow, not realize how loud you were until one of your sisters threw a throw pillow at your head telling you to sleep.

Laying back down on your back You Just looked back up at the soft pink ceiling. Sure you had always thought women were pretty, and while it was true you found yourself thinking about them how you should think about Logan— there was no way you were gay.. you had a boyfriend you were straight.

A straight girl

A… straight girl

——

A few days had passed.

You had been sitting inside the armory looking around as you waited for your daggers sheath to be repaired. Walking back you bumped into someone.

Before you could fall you felt a strong hand grab your waist, looking up you saw the curly haired girl who haunted your dreams.

“Watch where your going” she pushed you up helping you regain your balance.

You felt your cheeks turn red, “uh thank you” tucked some hair behind your ear embarrassed. Clarisse nodded taking note of your outfit of a camp shirt and shorts. She rolled her eyes. “Yeah whatever”

Charlie had decided to walk over finally “hey, sorry look were a little backed up but I can Promise your sheath will be fixed tonight alright?” He asked, You nodded before you could speak however clarisse scoffed “That’s bullshit, fix her sheath now”

“I just said i couldn’t”

“Whatever we both know it’ll take you five minutes—“

“It’s Fine Clarisse i don’t mind waiting” You looked up at her placing a hand on her forearm.

You smiled at Charlie as you walked out the armory. You left embarrassed by how clarisse had stood up for you, but also how you had touched her and how she allowed it.

Once you were gone Clarisse looked over noticing your dagger laying on the table. She swore you would loose your head if it wasn’t attached to your neck. “Fix her sheath now”

“Cl—“

“Did I stutter?”

——

You found yourself inside the Athena cabin with Logan while everyone else was at the bondfire, his siblings making teasing remarks as they left. He just shook his head before looking back at you. “Hey there sexy” he grinned, you stood between his legs with his hand on your thigh.

You cringed slightly but smiled. “Hey” playing with one of his blonde curls you felt his hand travel towards your ass. You grabbed his hand pulling it away “not today.. please I just really am not in the mood for it”

Logan rolled his eyes dramatically taking his hands off you and turning to face the books on his desk. “Of course” he complained.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked confused crossing your arms. “You know what it means— every-time we’re alone you don’t want to do shit I’m fucking over it, what’s the point of having a girlfriend if she doesn’t even want to make out with you”

“I’m just not that good of a kisser I—“

“Your a daughter of Aphrodite your good at everything love related, know what can you just stop with this bullshit” he stood up aggressively making you flinch back some. “Stop what” you looked down to afraid to meet his eyes.

Logan grabbed your chin harshly forcing you to look at him, it made you think back to clarisse how when she grabbed you it was almost gentle. You looked to the side and for a moment it was quiet, thinking he was done you heard Logan let out a scoff like laugh.

He pushed your head away. “Fuck you”

“What?”

“You know what you fucking slut.” He stepped towards you. “Can’t believe i didn’t realize it sooner” Logan continued to shake his head in disbelief. You tried to stand up for yourself but all you felt was a harsh slap met your cheek not even a moment later.

“Your disgusting, I see how you look at the other girls at camp— clarisse fucking la rue to be specific, I notice how you let your eyes wander on her, I bet you wish she was with you now huh?! I bet you wish she was the one who was kissing you huh?!” Logan tightly grabbed your face once again, tears brimming around your eyes. Trying to shake your head he just continued. “You disgust me- what would your dad think huh? To know his previous daughter was a fucking dyke

Logan jerked your head up forcing you to look at him before he hatefully kissed you.

It felt like forever, until you were suddenly dragged out the cabin. Looking up you saw clarisse having a tight hold on you.

It came back to you slowly, clarisse kicking open the door, shoving Logan into his bunk making him hit his head and now here where she started to take you across the camp

Her firm hold on your hand made you blush. It hurt how much you liked her and how much you knew you shouldn’t.

You watched as she yelled for everyone out of the ares cabin, letting out a string of offensives if anyone had something to say. Once they were gone it was quiet.

Clarisse led you to her bed setting you down gently before taking your face in her hands while examining the condition of you. “How Long” she mumbled.

“2 months after we got together” you quietly replied looking down. Clarisse pulled you into a hug, keeping a loving hold around you.

“I’m going to kill him” she tightened her grasp slightly, pulling away you shook your head “no, please I don’t want anyone knowing”

“Knowing how he treated you like shit”

“Knowing that I’m a fucking hypocrite clarisse!”You yelled, Clarisse kept quiet as this was the first time she’s heard you cuss. “Don’t you get it! How am I supposed to act if people find out that my entire relationship was toxic when im the one person most all people go to for love advice huh?! I’m a daughter of Aphrodite I’m supposed to be the person people admire! Imagine how embarrassing it’ll be to have people know I let my boyfriend hit me! And how the hell am I supposed to face anyone even my own father if they know im..” You choked on your tears leaning Into clarisse crying. She held you close not wanting to let go.

At this point you didn’t want to be anywhere else but in clarisses arms, where you didn’t feel forced or threatened you just simply felt loved.

——

You silently laid beside clarisse, just looking quietly into each-others eyes. Calmed down from your breakdown, You watched as she reached out fixing a piece of hair from your face. “..can I ask a question” she whispered. You nodded leaning some into her touch. “Are you.. are you gay”

After sone silence you nodded once again. “Yeah.. im not sure what I would be but.. I know for a fact I don’t like men” you admitted, a sense of anxiety washed over you. Clarisse continued to hold your face with an unreadable expression. “So a lesbian?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I guess so, I don’t really know much about queer identities anyways..”

“If You don’t like men Why did you bother to date Logan?” Her tone was sweet but confused. You couldn’t help but smile at the well known angry girl was now holding you with such care it made you feel butterflys. “I’m ashamed to be like this.. I’m not supposed to be a lesbian but I… am”

Before you noticed it, clarisse had leaned in kissing you. It was a quick kiss with her pulling away after a second. She muttered an apology while trying to leave, you however grabbed her before you could think bringing clarisse into another kiss, however this time it was longer and loving.

Sitting on your knees with your he daughter of ares fit in an awkward position you still continued to kiss her. Everything from before left your mind, how disgusting it felt up even kiss your boyfriend or now ex boyfriend, all you could think was how much you loved this girl.

Pulling away you kept your face close to clafisse. “I don’t understand.. I thought you hated me”

“Hated you.. really?!” She pushed back fixing her pose to be more comfortable. “I’ve been flirting with you this entire time”

“You Call shoving me around and calling me names flirting?”

“Yeah I—.. Look i don’t know shit about flirting but i thought it clear i liked you”

“No clafisse not at all” You laughed before moving to sit on the girls lap to kiss her. “Whatever it still worked Didnt it! Your here in my bed kissing me”

You lightly hit her with a smile. “I hate you”

“No you don’t” she laughed back kissing your cheek before looking at you, almost like she was trying to prove how much she loved you through just her eyes alone.

———

The following morning you had learned that Logan was currently in the infirmary with a long list of injuries you couldn’t even Name and your new girlfriend clarisse who was now being punished by Chiron. Aswell as the Ares cabin having a new found protective stance on the Aphrodite cabin

——

[bucksangel]

don't worry, darling

pairing: avenger!bucky x civilian!reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: even though bucky is mostly healed, that doesn’t mean his nightmares go away. and a particular grueling mission brings back memories he’d rather forget. 

warnings: angsttttt, hella fluff at the end though, hurt/comfort, talk of bucky’s trauma and abuse, brief mentions of murder of a hydra agent (he deserves it), nightmares, reader is here to love and comfort bucky, also civil war and everything after didn’t happen and they all live at the tower and everything is fine bc i said so

a/n: even though this does not contain smut, my blog is 18+ so minors dni. also i wanted to write something short and sweet to get my creative juices flowing and yet, as always, i managed to go overboard

tip jar | masterlist

It started with a whimper, a small one. Barely detectable if you weren’t already awake and snuggled against Bucky’s body. He’s lying on his side facing you with you mirroring his position, arms wrapped around each other and your head tucked into his chest. You’ve been having a hard time sleeping for the last week and a half due to Bucky being gone on a mission that didn’t allow him to contact you at all. Your restless nights were mostly due to worrying over your boyfriend’s safety, something you always do whenever he leaves. It was worse this time around, though.

It was a day before he was supposed to leave, and you knew you weren’t supposed to listen in on other people’s private conversations, but you just couldn’t help yourself. You’d come home early from work one day to find Steve and Bucky in your shared home office, stopping outside the door and getting ready to knock when you overheard something about an upcoming mission. It seemed pretty important so you decided not to interrupt them, though you couldn’t force yourself to walk away.

You’re never allowed to know anything about what Bucky’s missions entail, and some part of you wanted to listen in on their conversation to hopefully ease any worries about what might be happening to him since you’ll have a general idea of where they’re going and what they’re doing. 

According to Steve, although it was going to be a four-day mission, it was supposed to be relatively simple. Or, it would’ve been simple if it weren’t for the fact that the building they were being sent to scout was an old Hydra facility somewhere in Russia. The same Hydra facility where Bucky was held captive.

Upon hearing this piece of information you wanted to barge into the room and tell Steve off for letting Bucky be a part of this mission. It’s been nearly five years since he escaped and Bucky has mostly readjusted, has recovered from his trauma as much as one can after being tortured for decades. And you’ll be damned if anything jeopardizes that progress.

But you’d also overheard Bucky agreeing with the plans, helping Steve strategize, and going over all the information that needed to be obtained. And it wasn’t your place to tell Bucky what he could and couldn’t do. As much as you wanted to demand that he not go, he was his own person. And if he thought he could handle this mission then you’d have to find a way to support him.

The four-day mission turned into eight and by the sixth day with still no contact, you’d marched into the tower and demanded Fury call you with any and all updates he received. He said he would in a tone that made you believe he wouldn’t give you every detail, but it did help reassure you that if anything happened to Bucky then you wouldn’t be kept totally in the dark. It was nerve-wracking in the worst way, obsessively thinking over what Bucky could be going through - physically and mentally.

But on the eighth day, Fury had called you on your lunch break at work to tell you that Bucky was on his way back to the Tower and would probably be back at your apartment by early evening after the briefing and check-up in the medical wing.

All of your nerves and anxieties that built up over the last week were immediately replaced with relief flooding your body, your heart finally unclenching at knowing that Bucky would be back in a few short hours. One good thing about your job is that you don’t technically need to be in the office every day. As long as you get your work done you’re pretty much given free rein to leave whenever you want, and you’d finished your stack of paperwork maybe fifteen minutes before the phone call.

You gathered up your things quickly and stopped by your boss's office to wish her a good weekend, then made your way to your car to head home. Your heartbeat was increasing ever so slightly the closer you got to your apartment, and you had to remind yourself to focus on driving instead of daydreaming of being back in Bucky’s arms.

When you did finally get home, you made quick work of cleaning the entire apartment; changing your bed sheets, doing laundry, then pulling out food from the fridge to make dinner. You’d actually just gotten the chicken out of the oven when the front door opened, and your excitement at finally seeing your boyfriend again forced you to run out of the kitchen and down the hall. But you stopped a good six feet from the door, standing still at seeing Bucky’s bruised face and scabbed knuckles.

“Bucky?” You asked softly, finally noticing the spacey look in his eyes, the way they seemed to be glazed over.

Bucky smiled at you, though it was more of a grimace, and you could tell it was mostly forced but he still wanted to acknowledge you. He approached you slowly, and you stood still so you would not startle him - he just seemed so on edge. He stopped not even a foot away from you, had stared down at you with a look in his eyes you hoped you would never see again - it was such an empty gaze, almost emotionless. There was no life in his eyes. It didn’t feel like the dead gaze was directed at you specifically, it was more like Bucky just couldn’t muster up any emotion at all.

That’s when you knew. Something went wrong.

Slowly, he brought up his right hand and placed it on the back of your head, tilting it up so he could really look at you, letting his gaze linger on your lips. Instead of kissing them, he leans forward to press a kiss on your forehead, wrapping his left arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. He didn’t speak as he slowly tucked you into his body, and you didn’t dare break the silence either, you simply wrapped your arms around his body as well, squeezing him tightly to let him know that you were there. You were there for him - physically, mentally, and emotionally, and you needed him to know that.

After maybe five minutes of no one speaking, of simply standing in the front hallway embracing each other, you decided to finally say something.

“I made dinner,” You whispered, running one of your hands up and down Bucky’s back. You pulled your head off of his chest but didn’t loosen your hold. “Chicken and mashed potatoes. I even made apple pie.”

Bucky’s mouth twitched again, and his attempted smile felt a little more genuine this time. His glassy eyes were filled with tears now, and he seemed oh so close to crying. You’d never seen him like this before, he was always happy, and smiling, even on days when he wouldn’t say it but you knew he still resented himself for his time as the soldier he would indulge in his hobbies to help him cope. But you’ve never seen him shut down before, and this is what this felt like.

You weren’t too sure how to help him, how to comfort him. But you had an inkling he might need some time to himself.

“How about you go shower and I can put the food away for later,” You said with a soft smile, speaking up again before Bucky had the chance to feel guilty, “I ate a couple of hours ago, I’m fine baby. Go shower.”

You lifted up on your toes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, letting him squeeze you to his chest one more time before he released you, slumping off down the hall to the bathroom.

That was two days ago, and Bucky hasn’t spoken more than a few words at a time since. Now, it’s not like he’s avoiding you, he’s actually a little more clingy than he normally is. You can tell he wants to say something, to tell you what had happened, he just doesn’t know how. He hasn’t told you everything about what happened to him during his time as the soldier, but you know enough and don’t push him to say anything he doesn’t want to.

At night, Bucky will go out onto the small terrace outside of your apartment and stare up at the stars for hours. You don’t sit with him for all of it, just for about one hour - cuddled close to his body and talking softly and mindlessly about anything you can think of, anything that might help Bucky open up. Then, around nine or ten, you’ll give him a lingering kiss on his cheek, one on his temple, and one final kiss on his lips before going to bed, letting Bucky be alone with himself and his thoughts.

Tonight, though, Bucky’s decided to climb into bed with you soon after dinner. You both showered together, washing each other’s bodies and sharing a few lingering kisses under the spray of the shower head. You didn’t go any further, but you did make sure to spend extra time massaging his shoulders and back, placing kisses everywhere you could reach.

It’s one in the morning now, and you hear another whimper. Bucky shifts beside you, tightening his hold on you ever so slightly. Another whine. 

“Bucky?” You whisper, careful to not disturb the silence too much.

He responds with a mumbled ‘please’. Then, ‘no’.

“Buck? Baby?” You say a little louder, shifting in his hold but not able to move much due to his arms being wound around your body.

He shudders, pulling you further into him as his breathing picks up. He’s having a nightmare. Now, despite him being mostly healed, he still does have nightmares. They’ve lessened over the years, but they never truly go away.

When he’s in this mindset, you’re careful not to move too much and startle him awake. So, you simply shimmy your arm from under one of his so you can push on his chest and gently ease him onto his back. It takes a little more force than you’d like, but you’re eventually able to lay him flat on his back and untangle your body from his.

“Baby?” You whisper a little louder, placing your hand on the side of his face and rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. “Bucky.”

He groans; louder, desperate. He’s in pain. You run your hand down his face, down his neck, then land on his chest, right above his heart. It’s increased rapidly, and you can see beads of sweat coat his forehead.

“Bucky.” Your voice is pleading, and you push on his chest a little, now hoping to startle him awake before it gets worse. You don’t want to keep him in this nightmare, so you shake him again.

“Bu-” You’re stopped short by him gasping, his eyes shooting open and his body lifting off the bed slightly as he wakes up. Relief fills your body, and you sigh gratefully. You hate when he’s in pain, whether physical or mental, but you hate not being able to do anything about it even more.

Bucky doesn’t move right away, he squeezes his eyes closed and clenches his fists momentarily. Then, when you place your hand on his cheek, his whole body goes limp, relaxing into the sheets under your touch.

“Baby,” He whispers hoarsely. “I…” He chokes back a sob, and you’re quick to adjust yourselves so you’re laying on your back and he’s laying almost entirely on top of you with his head on your chest right above your heart. He starts crying then, really crying. His arms wrap themselves around your midsection, and you wrap yours around his body as well, cradling him close to you.

“It’s okay, darling. It’s okay, you’re okay,” You mumble into his ear, pressing kisses anywhere you can reach. You continue cooing at him, whispering reassurances and declarations of love until his cries taper off into small whimpers and sniffles. You’re really worried now. Yeah, Bucky isn’t shy about expressing his emotions, and you’ve held him after nightmares and through the aftermath of difficult missions when he comes home disheartened. But he’s never been so vulnerable, and you want nothing more than to hold him close and protect him from everything bad in the world.

Silence envelops the both of you for a while. You want to allow Bucky to speak when he’s ready. And he does so after a couple of minutes.

“There was an agent; Alix, I think. I - I don’t remember his last name, but…” Bucky pauses, and you take the opportunity to place a kiss on his forehead. “For the last five or so years of me being… him, Alix was there. He’d… Any time I failed a mission, he’d be there. Out of all the Hydra agents that I’ve ever come in contact with… his punishments were the worst.”  He pauses again, sniffling softly and nuzzling his face into your chest.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” You whisper, bringing your hand up to his hair so you can run your fingers through his locks. Bucky shakes his head softly, pressing a kiss to your collarbone.

“He was there. When Steve, Natasha, and I went to the facility last week, Alix was there. And he… I don’t know. I saw him and I just went blank, my mind shut off. I know I promised I wouldn’t kill anymore, I know. I just… He just hurt me so fucking much.”

Bucky starts crying again, and you have to force yourself not to cry as well. You want to be here to support him, not break down as well because then he’ll feel guilty. He always says you’re one of the most important people in his life - Steve obviously being another one - and that seeing you cry makes him want to go feral on whoever or whatever made you sad.

“I had to,” he says, muffled by his face tucking into your neck. “I just. I couldn’t not. I thought I was ready, I thought I could go there and be okay. But I wasn’t. I… He broke me.” Bucky trails off, sighing heavily before he goes quiet again, giving you time to process this information.

“Baby,” You say, prompting Bucky to hum in acknowledgment. “Can you look at me, please?”

You know it takes a lot of effort, but he does. Bucky lifts his head from your neck, looking into your eyes with overwhelming sorrow. Bending your head, you place a quick kiss on his lips.

“This might sound odd, but I’m proud of you. You thought you were healed enough to do it, you went through the planning and probably had to hype yourself up a lot to even agree to the mission. And that’s immense progress. The fact that you even felt ready, even if you ultimately weren’t, you pushed through it and finished the mission. And that’s something to be celebrated. Sometimes recovery can be set back by certain events, but that doesn’t mean that everything else you’ve accomplished is set back as well. You tried, and I’m proud of you.”

With that said, you give Bucky another kiss, lingering a little longer this time before pulling back and holding his gaze.

“And I know you promised to not kill anyone, but I don’t blame you in this situation. I don’t know what this says about me, but even though I don’t know exactly how you killed him, and I don’t think I want to honestly, I do know he deserved far worse than what you gave him. He’s just lucky I wasn’t there because I genuinely don’t know what I would have done if I saw him.”

Bucky’s mouth forms into the smallest of smiles, and you can’t help but want to burn the world to the ground if it means he was protected from the harm it brought him.

“I know you’re the man, and that, stereotypically, men are supposed to be the protector, the provider, but you also deserve to be protected, to have everything you could ever want. And I want to give that to you. I know you are your own person and you do a damn well job of taking care of yourself, but I also want to take care of you. I want to protect you from everything bad, everything that’s ever harmed you, and everything that could potentially harm you in the future.”

You place a kiss on his forehead, squeezing the arm that’s around his upper back to hug him tighter to you.

“You’re the love of my life, baby. Now and forever.”

Bucky shudders slightly, leaning up to kiss your jaw, then one to your cheek, one on the corner of your mouth, and one final kiss to your lips. Your hand continues to run through his hair, tugging at it slightly, causing your boyfriend to sigh in contentment and tighten his hold on you as well. You’re locked in the embrace for a long moment, his lips gliding over yours as the kiss remains relatively chaste. But then, he pulls away.

“Darling,” He says, and for the first time in two days, he finally looks like he’s getting back to his old self. “I - I don’t think I’m ready to talk about everything that happened during the mission right now, I kind of just want to hear you talk so I can get my mind off of it for a little if that’s okay?” He looks a bit nervous asking for that, but you’re quick to nod, offering him a smile of your own. Bucky smiles a tad bit wider and removes one of his arms from around your body so he can slowly reach up and take hold of your hand that’s still running through his hair. Stubble tickles your palm as Bucky presses his lips there, then turns his gaze up to look into your eyes.

“I can’t even describe how much I love you. It scares me, sometimes, the things I would do for you. I need you to know that I will do everything I can to make you as happy and safe as you make me. You’re just… you’re incredible. And I can’t thank you enough for how much you’ve helped me over the past two years that we’ve been together, even the entire year before we started dating when we were just friends.”

His eyes start watering for a whole other reason now. Bucky looks so damn in love that you’d think it hurt, and you would know because that’s exactly how you feel about him.

“I - I know we haven’t talked about it, and I don’t even have a ring, but I can’t ever imagine loving anyone as much as I love you. I’m devoted to you, now and forever. I don’t know how you feel, but if you’re ever willing to…” He pauses, and you feel your heartbeat increase rapidly, a sudden happiness flooding your body.

“If I were to one day ask you to marry me, would you say yes?”

You’ve never nodded faster in your life, nor have you ever said ‘yes’ so quickly to anything Bucky has asked.

The large sigh of relief your boyfriend lets out lets you know he’s probably been thinking about this for a while, and you would swear your heart is about to burst from how much you love this man as you hold him close to your chest and place absentminded kisses on his forehead, cheeks, lips, the top of his head.

Everything stays silent for a few minutes, letting the conversation taper off. That is, until Bucky puts his head back on your shoulder, lacing his fingers with yours and bringing your hands up to kiss your knuckles.

“Can you talk to me?”

Humming in agreement, you run your hand that’s still on his back up and down in a soothing motion.

“Do you want to hear about how Sam almost broke his arm last week?”

[wholoveseggs]

Hello, how are you? Could i request an angsty but smutty and fluff fic of Elijah and reader where they get into a fight but makeup in the end?

Stubborn

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You and Elijah get into a fight about his protective nature. He thinks you are too stubborn, and you think he's too controlling. How will you resolve your issues?

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon! I don't know if this is very angsty, but it certainly is very smutty ♡♡

4.1k words - Warnings: smuttttt, very little plot, Cami being the best, dom!elijah (you like him in control? well... here you go...), fingering, squirting, angry sex...

"I'm not some damsel in distress, I don't need your protection!" You yelled, louder than you meant to. Arguing with Elijah was always a test of your restraint. He made it so damn difficult, he was always calm and composed. Sometimes you just wanted to push his buttons.

"Darling, I have so many enemies, and you're not invincible." He tried to reason.

"Don't patronize me, I know that, but you treat me like I can't take care of myself!" You snapped, pacing around the living room. You tried to calm yourself down, you didn't want to say something you'd regret, but the anger bubbling inside you wouldn't go away.

"I'm not trying to patronize you, I just think you could make better decisions." He said softly, his eyes following you as you paced.

"It's like you're treating me like a child! We're supposed to be equals, and you always talk to me like you're the parent and I'm the kid!" Your voice cracked a little, when you got angry you also would cry. You hated that about yourself.

Elijah could see the pain in your eyes, you were his soft and sweet y/n. He just wanted to protect you. He tried to approach you, to hold you and comfort you, but you pushed him away.

His actions made you feel weak, and foolish, here was a man that faced countless dangers, he was centuries old, he fought vampires and werewolves, witches and even his own siblings. And you were just this fragile thing, this tiny human he had to watch out for. It made you feel so weak and pathetic, all your insecurities bubbling up inside you, the tears falling down your cheeks.

You stormed away from him, and he let you, because he knew if he pushed you, it would just make things worse.

You had been dating Elijah for two months now, and in that time, he had taken on the role of a protective boyfriend. You liked being taken care of, but sometimes it felt like he didn't see you as an equal.

You had been arguing about this a lot lately. You didn't like being treated like you were breakable. You weren't. You had dealt with plenty of dangers in your life, and he didn't give you enough credit.

He was a stubborn man, and you were a stubborn woman, so the tension kept rising, until you finally had to get away from him. So you decided to stay at Cami's for a few days, she was a good friend, and she didn't judge you. She could always use some company anyways.

"So, he's a bit over protective, huh?" Cami asked. You were curled up on her couch, drinking a glass of wine. You were both having a night in, wearing pajamas and doing self-care.

"Yeah, and I know he means well, but I really value my independence, it's not something I'm willing to give up," You admitted.

"Do you feel like he doesn't respect you?" She asked, taking a sip of her own wine.

"No, he does, I know that, but it feels like he doesn't trust me." You said, looking down into your glass.

Cami stood and grabbed some snacks, tossing you a bag of your favorite chips. "I don't think that's it, I think he's scared. Scared to lose you. He's been through so much, and he's lost a lot of people he's loved." She said, plopping back down on the couch.

You let out a long sigh, you knew of his pain, but it was still hard to hear out loud. He held all of his trauma inside him, and sometimes it was difficult for him to share, even with you.

"I love him Cami, it's just hard. I've always had to take care of myself, I guess I just have a hard time accepting someone wanting to do that for me." You said softly, feeling the tears brimming your eyes.

"Have you told him that? That you love him?" She asked.

"No, I... I want him to say it first." You admitted.

Cami chuckled and took a long sip of her wine, then grabbed the remote and turned on a movie. It was one of those sappy romances that were so over the top and cheesy. But that's why they were so fun to watch.

"Just tell him. I'm sure he loves you too." Cami said, her gaze fixed on the tv.

"I know," you sighed, "I just want him to initiate, his so reserved, and I'm tired of always being the one who has to take the first step." You grumbled.

"He's probably worried about scaring you away, or making things awkward, you know how he can be." She said, turning to look at you, giving you a comforting smile.

"Yeah, I guess." You mumbled, curling up further on the couch.

Cami gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and the two of you continued to watch your movie, the sappy love story playing out in front of you.

"So," she said, breaking the silence, "how's the sex?"

You choked on your wine, sputtering a bit before regaining your composure. Cami was a little shit sometimes.

"The sex is amazing," You said, smirking at her. "But... I'm always the one initiating it. Sometimes I think his biggest problem is that he's too gentlemanly."

"Well, what have you done to make him be more spontaneous?" Cami asked, grabbing the bottle of wine and pouring more in her glass.

"Me?" You squeaked. "What did I do?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to take control because you never gave him permission." She asked.

You sat and thought about that. You were usually the one who would start things. You initiated kisses, hugs, hand holding, even the sex. Elijah was so reserved, so proper, he didn't want to overstep. It made you feel like he didn't desire you, which was ridiculous, you had seen him undressing you with his eyes.

"That's fair." You said. "I didn't realize he was waiting for permission."

"Men are idiots." Cami stated, making you laugh.

"Sometimes," you said, chuckling. "I just want to see him be the one to initiate, you know?"

"I know." She said, leaning back on the couch.

You finished the bottle of wine and watched the rest of the movie. It was so sweet, the ending was a happy one, the couple was together and they were in love. You wished life was that simple.

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. Cami was already awake, making coffee.

"Ugh," you groaned, rubbing your temples. "I should have drank more water,"

"I tried to remind you." Cami said, smirking at you.

"Well, excuse me for being drunk," You replied.

She handed you a mug of coffee, and you sipped it slowly, letting the warmth of the drink soothe your throat.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," you said.

"You know I don't mind." She replied, sitting on the couch next to you.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, sighing.

"I love him, but I think I need some space. Some time to myself." You said softly.

"I think that's a good idea." She replied.

"Are we doing the right thing? Am I being selfish?" You asked, chewing your bottom lip.

"No, you're not. You're being realistic. You need some space and some time to yourself." She replied.

"I'm going to go to the compound and pick up some clothes and stuff." You said.

"Want me to come with you?" She asked.

"No, that's ok, I think I can handle myself." You replied, smiling at her.

She gave you a reassuring squeeze and you got up, feeling a bit better after your talk.

"Thanks Cami, I'll call you later," You said, grabbing your keys and heading out.

Elijah was sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking a glass of whiskey, and he had a book open in front of him, though he wasn't reading it. His mind was too preoccupied. He missed you terribly, it had only been a couple days, but it felt like an eternity.

He thought back to the last conversation you had had. You had stormed off, and he hadn't chased after you, because he knew you needed time to cool down. He wanted to tell you he was sorry, but he knew you didn't want to hear it right now.

You were the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he didn't want to lose you. He was used to losing people, he had spent centuries running, he had been betrayed, lied to, hurt. But he had never met anyone quite like you.

You were sweet, funny, smart, and caring. He had fallen for you quickly, but he had been too afraid to admit it. Like if he said it out loud, everything would fall apart.

But in your absence he realized his mistake, and how foolish he had been. No more wasting time, he needs to tell you that he loves you, despite how stubborn you are.

You walked into the compound, it was eerily quiet, you hoped Elijah was out. So you could just quickly grab your things and leave.

You didn't expect him to be waiting for you in the kitchen, his face was serious, but his eyes were full of emotion.

"Elijah, I'm just here to pick up some clothes," You said, trying to walk past him. He stepped in front of you, blocking your way.

"We need to talk." He said, his tone firm.

"No, we really don't, I just want my things," You said, trying to move around him. He moved again, his arms crossed, and his face was stern.

"Stop treating me like a child! Let me by!" You yelled. He let you pass him and you ran up to your bedroom, grabbing some clothes.

He followed you and stood in the doorway, watching you, his eyes boring into your skin.

"Stop looking at me like that," You said, throwing some clothes into a bag.

"I hate seeing you upset," He replied, his voice soft.

"I'm not upset, I'm just angry." You said, moving past him to go into the bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush.

He followed you and leaned against the doorframe, watching you gather your toiletries.

"Please, let's just talk." He pleaded.

You sighed, looking up at him, his expression was pained, his jaw was clenched. You could see the desperation in his eyes. Your anger was still in charge though and you pushed past him again and started packing your things on the bed.

"So talk, I'm listening," You said harshly, still not looking at him.

He took a deep breath, his fists clenched, and he closed his eyes for a moment, composing himself. He knew he couldn't get through to you when you were angry like this.

"You're right," He said, opening his eyes and looking at you. "I'm sorry. I haven't been treating you fairly. I've been trying to protect you. But you are being stubborn and you're not letting me explain,"

You turned to look at him, trying to ignore how good he looked. His hair was messy, like he had been running his hands through it, and he was wearing a black shirt, his sleeves rolled up, and his tie was hanging loose around his neck. A part of you wanted to just give in and kiss him, but the other part of you was still pissed off.

He could hear your heart beating faster, your body temperature rising. He knew that he had an effect on you, and he was enjoying seeing you get flustered. He gave you a crooked smirk, and took a step closer to you, and you backed up, hitting the bed.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady your breathing. You were angry, but his presence always made your body react, and your head spin.

"So stubborn," he growled, pushing you onto the bed.

"Fuck you, Elijah," you hissed, trying to sit up.

"Not today," he smirked, pinning you down with his weight.

"I said, fuck you," You growled, pushing on his chest.

He chuckled and leaned down, his face inches from yours. His eyes were dark, his lips curled up in a devilish smile.

"Say please," He purred, his breath ghosting over your lips.

You let out a frustrated groan, and he kissed you, hard. You whimpered, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring it, tasting you.

"Is this what you want? To be fucked?" He whispered, his lips grazing your ear.

"No," you lied, trying to squirm away from him, but his grip was too tight.

"Don't lie, darling, your body betrays you," He growled, nibbling your earlobe before leaving a trail of hickeys down your neck.

He suddenly tore the shirt off of you, making you gasp. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, his other hand moving to your waist, pulling your skirt off.

"Eli- my clothes!" You whined, but he just chuckled, his eyes roaming your body.

"I'll buy you new ones," He smirked, nipping at your jaw, then capturing your lips with his.

"You can't just-" you were cut off by him biting your lip. You groaned and he released you, his hands roaming your body.

"Stop being so stubborn," He whispered, his fingers brushing over your lace panties, making you shiver.

"I'm not," you argued, biting back a moan as his fingers teased your clit.

He laid on his side next to you, opening your legs and pushing your panties out of the way. He grazed over your clit with the pad of his index finger, teasing you slowly. He loved this, teasing you, torturing you. You were so beautiful when you were desperate for him.

You whined and pushed your hips against his hand, and he pulled his hand away, smirking.

"You're such a tease," You growled, glaring at him.

"You're cute when you're angry," He smiled, his fingers returning to your pussy. He tapped your clit lightly, his lips ghosting over yours. You tried not to react, but it felt so good, this dominant side of him was driving you crazy.

He slid two fingers into you, and began thrusting them slowly. You gasped and arched your back, moaning loudly. Watching your reaction was thrilling, his cock was painfully hard, but he wanted to make you cum first.

"Listen to those sweet sounds," he purred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right. “So filthy and wet, the way your body responds, it's like you were made for me."

"You're a fucking asshole," you moaned, trying to buck your hips against his fingers.

"I can stop, if you want," He whispered, his voice dark. 

"No," You whimpered, "I-I'm close."

"Oh, I know, darling." He smiled, "You're going to cum, and I'm going to make you cum again, and again, until all the stubborn thoughts in your head disappear."

His fingers were pumping fast now, and you couldn't help the noises you were making. Your orgasm was building in such a way that you knew it would be intense. He was right, you were stubborn, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan, but it was becoming more and more difficult to hold back.

"Eli- wait, your gonna make me-" You stuttered, gasping as he added a third finger, stretching you even more.

"Make a mess?" He purred, curling his fingers just right, hitting your g-spot.

The lewd, wet, squelching noises coming from your pussy were embarrassing, and the fact that he was enjoying them made it worse. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, your whole body trembling, you were so close.

He sped up his pace, and he could see the moment when you reached your peak. Your body tensed up, your back arching, and then a loud cry escaped your lips.

Your juices spilled out onto his fingers, covering his hand. It was so much, you had never squirted before, and the look on Elijah's face was pure lust and amusement.

It made you embarrassed and a bit angry and you tried to move away, but he kept his fingers buried deep inside you, not letting you escape.

"Don't be ashamed," He said, kissing your forehead, his fingers moving slowly, causing your legs to tremble.

"I'm not," You panted, glaring at him, trying to suppress a moan.

"Really?" He purred, his eyes locking with yours, "Then why are you blushing?"

He smirked, and you tried to hide your face in the sheets, but he wouldn't let you. He was still smirking, and you were getting angrier.

"I'm not-"

"Shh, love, you can't hide from me," he cooed, his fingers still pumping into you, stretching you out. Building up another climax.

"Eli-fuck," You gasped, the pleasure building.

"That's it, let me hear those pretty sounds," He whispered, his voice husky.

He was still fully clothed, and he hadn't even touched himself, he was only focused on you.

He kept fucking his fingers into you, his thumb circling your clit, making sure every inch of your pussy was being stimulated.

Your body was trembling, and you could feel yourself getting close again, you pushed your heels into the bed, trying to get away, but he didn't stop, he just kept going, his pace relentless.

"I can't- oh fuck-," You gasped, arching your back as the orgasm crashed over you. Your wetness soaked his hand and the bed below.

Elijah pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean. Then he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips, tasting all of you.

You tried to glare at him, but he was now kissing your neck, his free hand moving down to cup your breast, teasing your nipples.

"I'm still mad at you," You panted, trying not to moan.

"I know," He smirked, "And I'm not finished with you."

He grabbed your thighs, spreading your legs, and settled between them, his eyes roaming over your body.

"Such a pretty thing," He murmured, tracing patterns on your skin.

He took ahold of your waist, pulling you towards him, and began to grind against your wet pussy, making you whimper.

"You're so sensitive, baby," He cooed, his lips brushing over your collarbone.

You could feel his erection straining against his pants, and you could tell he was enjoying this just as much as you were. He undid his belt, pulling it out of the loops, and tossing it to the floor.

He pulled your arms above your head, his hand gripping your wrists. He unzipped his pants and took his cock out, pressing it against your entrance.

"You're already soaked for me," He whispered, kissing you deeply.

You moaned into the kiss, and he pushed his cock into you, making you whimper. He was so thick, and his length filled you completely, making your body tremble.

He began to thrust into you, his pace steady, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing over your skin.

"I'm not a toy," You managed to say, your voice strained.

"No, you're not, you're mine," He growled, his hips slamming into yours, his cock hitting all the right spots.

"Fuck," You gasped, arching your back.

His grip on your wrists tightened, and he spread your legs even wider. He grinded his hips slowly, wanting to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible.

You could feel the pressure building, and it was becoming harder to concentrate, all you could focus on was his cock, his weight on top of you, the way he was looking at you.

"Say it," He growled, his hips moving faster now. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," You moaned, your voice cracking, your resolve breaking with every deep stroke.

The sound of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy filled the room, mixed with your moans and gasps, and the way the bed was creaking. He knew you were close, he could feel your muscles starting to clench around him.

"No no stubborn one, you don't get to cum yet," He growled, nipping at your ear.

He wrapped your legs around his waist, pinning you to the bed. His pace increased and he leaned in to kiss you.

"Come on darling, give in, admit I'm right," He whispered.

"Eli, please," You moaned, your fingers gripping his shirt.

"All you have to do is submit," He cooed, pressing his lips to yours.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to resist the urge to give in, but it was so intense and his pace was relentless. He wasn't going to stop, not until you broke.

"Look at the way you open up for me," He said, his voice husky as he grinded against you. "Your needy little pussy, milking my cock, begging to be filled."

You looked down at where his cock was buried inside of you, moving in and out of your pussy. You could see how wet you were, covering his pants and your thighs, making a mess of the sheets.

"Hmm, you like that? Seeing how wet you are, all for me," He whispered, leaning down to kiss you. "Just admit that you are stubborn, and we can cum together."

Your whole body was shaking, your orgasm so close, but you fought it, squeezing your thighs together, trying to close your legs, but he wouldn't let you.

You gave up, you didn't care about the fight anymore, you just wanted to cum, you just wanted him to stop torturing you. You couldn't think straight, everything was too much, his thrusts were deep and hard, his cock was filling you, stretching you out, he knew just how to fuck you.

You couldn't hold back anymore and you finally gave in, submitting to him. "You're right," you gasped, your voice barely audible. "Please, Eli, fuck, I'm sorry, just let me cum."

"Good girl," He groaned, leaning back and spreading your thighs wide, pounding into you. He began to stroke your clit with his thumb, drawing circles, as his hips snapped hard and fast.

It was all too much, and you felt an intense release, your body convulsing, your wetness soaking him, making a mess of the clothes he was still wearing and the bed.

He chuckled, watching your cheeks flush in embarrassment as he fucked you through it. He made you squirt all over him, submitting to him completely.

You were still trembling, trying to catch your breath, you couldn't focus, your whole body was tingling with pleasure, you felt like you were floating.

He kissed you deeply, pressing his body to yours before he let out a low groan and came inside you, his cock twitching. You shuddered, your pussy still sensitive, but he didn't stop, he continued moving his hips slowly.

You could feel the warmth of his cum filling you, his cock throbbing, his breathing uneven. He kissed you softly and slowly, his fingers brushing over your cheek, caressing your face as he pulled out of you.

Now that you had come down from your high, you felt a mixture of frustration and humiliation. You tried to move, but he held you there, a devilish grin plastered on his face.

He shifted onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him, your body on top of his, your chest pressing against his chest.

"I love you," he whispered, pulling you in for another kiss.

"Eli," you muttered, burying your face in his chest. You couldn't believe he had fucked you in that way, and now he was saying the three words you wanted to hear the most. He was so perfect and so infuriating at the same time. You were angry that he was able to make you give in so easily, but it was worth it. It had never felt so good.

"I love you too, asshole," you replied, making him laugh.

He kissed you once more before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. His hands rested on your lower back, tracing lazy circles.

"I'm sorry for being protective, it's not because I don't trust you, it's because I'm afraid of losing you," he said quietly.

"I know, and I'm sorry for saying that you're a control freak," you apologized.

"No you're not," He smirked, kissing you again.

"I'm getting there," you sighed.

He laughed, tracing the curve of your hips with his fingertips. You could feel him harden underneath you, and it turned you on again. And you slowly ground your hips against his, teasing him.

His eyes grew dark, and he placed his hands on your ass, squeezing firmly. "Darling, don't," He said warningly, his voice strained.

You ignored him, rolling your hips, grinding into his lap, you wanted more.

"Don't be so stubborn Eli-,"

You were on your back before you could finish your sentence, your legs spread, his lips on yours.

You were definitely going to fight with him more often…

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[jujusdiary]

TILL FOREVER FALLS APART -ln4

pairing- lando norris x child hood best friend fem fewtrell!reader warning- mentions of trauma, abusive relationship, use of "kiddo" as a nickname from max to reader (idk if that's a warning lol) and use of y/n (ew ew ew sorry) genre- mutual pining, brother's best-friend, hella angst, fluff, fluff, and uhm, oh yeah- fluff. summary- after years of being apart, lando reunites with his childhood best-friend, but it's not what everyone is chalking it up to be. reminders of a past argument float up, and the reason for your absence all these years start to become more and more apparent. word count- 4.659k -- this fic was also not proofread lol bc i have no one willing to proofread these yet, so pls lmk if anyone would be interested 😽 also requests are still open and tysm for the love on my oscar post!!! Any text in orange is past/memory scenes soz if it gets confusing : )

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · keep reading !! · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

You stare off into the distance, your eyes glossy. The paddock stands like a bad memory before your eyes, and you try hard not to reminisce on the last time you stepped past that gate.

"You don't have to go in, you know that, right? You can see Lando some other time." Your brother, Max, says as he places his hand over yours. The car feels so much smaller now, as you sit there with him, the pass heavy in your hands.

"No, no. I have to go see him, i-i promised." You mutter to yourself, gulping down the fear in your throat. Last time you were here, it was over three years ago. You had been accompanied by your boyfriend at the time, Jonah, with his hand wound up around your arm tightly, fingertips digging into our flesh. You swear you can feel his fingers digging into you again, the bruises he left on your body aching all over again-

"Jonah can't hurt you, kiddo. He's far away, he can't reach you." Max reassures you, but you still have to swallow the bile in your throat as you climb out of the car and start to walk towards the paddock and the Mclaren hospitality, your legs shaky as all the memories come rushing back.

"you embarassed me, on live television !" His hand coming down to collide with your cheek. You whine in pain as your body jolts back, your arms and chest covered in bruises, your cheek stinging in pain.

"I-I'm sorry i didn't mean to ! I was just trying to congratulate Lando-" You say, shaking as you tried to back away from him. Jonah wasn't usually an angry man. He used to be sweet and tender towards you, always anxious whenever you would even so much graze your knee. But then he got angry over little things, like when you would knock things over or when you spoke a little too loud.

"Instead, you embarassed me and now everyone thinks my girlfriend is a whore !" You tried to squirm away from him, to hide somewhere and grab a phone to call someone-anyone- to help you. But his hand wrapped around your ankle and yanked you back towards him, blood sprouting on your cracked open skull as it hit the table.

"Be quiet."

"Yo. Y/n ?" You were snapped back to reality, Max's hand on your back, the younger aussie driver standing before you, already in his suit. "You okay ?" You gulp heavily, meeting Oscar's confused brown eyes.

"Y-yeah. I'm good." You reply, eyes scanning the crowds around you nervously.

"O-kay..? Anyways, Lando is looking for you." He says, clearing his throat and offering you a soft smile, before walking off. Max looks down at you.

"Are you sure you're alright ? You're looking pale. It's okay if you're scared, i know Lando and you didn't leave things on great terms." He mutters. The worry for his little sister is obvious on Max's face. Lando, Max and You have been friends since the karting days, when you were there to cheer on Max and secretly crush on his best-friend. But Lando had always acted like a brother to you, so you had always assumed those feelings were one sided. So when Lando finally made it to F1 and he started asking you to come to races and acting a bit more flirtatious towards you, it angered you because you had felt alne in your feelings for years and now he wanted to act like this ? It angered you to the point of going and getting a boyfriend. Jonah. Lando and you had gotten into a fight last time you had come to the paddock. It didn't end well. That was over three years ago, at Silverstone in 2021.

"Max, mate !" The voice makes your body go rigid.

"Lando !" Max breaks away from you, envelopping his arms around the boy, patting his back. The slightest of his curly brown hair is peeking out from underneath his papaya cap, his race suit tied around his waist as he clutches unto his water bottle. His cheeks are sunkissed underneath the chinese sun, still high off of his p1 quali. His sink is tan, his eyes shimmering with excitement.

"P1, mate, congrats ! That was amazing, that was." Max congratulates, smiling at him.

"Hah, thank you ! I got scared for a second there, but i was glad when my lap was re-instated, lad, i thought it was over-" His eyes find you, and the shimmer seems to die down. You fiddle with your shirt, the mclaren logo scratchy on your chest.

"Y/n." Your names comes tumbling past his lips like a chant too long apart from him, and it's like the breath has been knocked out of your chest.

"Hi, Lan." You answer, although your voice feels to low for him to hear you. He breaks away from your brother, his eyes drinking you in, a gulp passing past his adam's apple. An awkward silence hangs between the two of you, and it makes your heart hurt as you remember how he'd greeted you last time he'd seen you.

"Lan !" You ran into his arms, letting him fling you around as he groaned, picking you up.

"Ah, there you are ! Been wonderin' where you'd gone." He'd muttered into the skin of your neck, his breath warm. His touch was welcome on your bruised body, the heavy sweater creating unnecessary heat on that day. His arms were tight around you. This was the one race this season Jonah had not joined you. But the bruise around your neck was still obvious when Lando placed you down and his eyes fluttered down.

"Darling.." His hand moved your hair away from your neck softly, frowning. His touch was featherlight on your bruise, and you jerked away from him with a flinch. "Did he do this ? Did Jonah do this to you ?" His eyes were dark. You shook your head, trying to break away from him but his grip on your waist was steadfast.

"Don't lie to me." He whispered.

"He didn't mean to." You'd mumbled, and his face fell.

"He hurt you ?" You shook your head, trying to protest, but before you could, he was ushered away to his car.

"You look.. well." He mutters, scratching the back of his neck. Max looks between the two of you. It must be odd, seeing you standing so far from each other. Usually, his hands wouldn't be off you for more than three seconds- Lando craved your touch, it grounded him. Seeing his stand so far felt foreign to Max. He pats Lando's back again.

"Alright well.. I'm going to go find P.. I'll leave you two to it." He says before walking off, shaking his head. You stare at him in silence, your chest heaving.

"How have you been ?" He asks, taking a step closer to you. His eyes are scanning your skin, looking for any trace of a bruise. The thought hits you like a truck- he doesn't know you and Jonah broke up.

"I've been okay." You answer, your voice feeling strained in your throat. He nods, pursing his lips.

"How's Jonah ?" You gulp down the bile in your throat, scratching your eyebrow. The venom in his voice is evident- your past argument clearly still salt in an open wound.

"Uh- convicted. 5 years." His jaw pops open. "Did Max not tell you ?" He shakes his head, gulping.

"No, uh, he didn't."

"After Silverstone, i... I got it together. I called the cops. He was found guilty and.. i haven't seen him since." His eyes flutter as he nods softly, his lips parting.

"What are you doing later tonight ?"

"Nothing. Probably stay in, if i'm honest." You said, laughing as you stared at Lando as he dried off his sweaty hair after his p4 finish, the towel heavy on his neck.

"Go out with me." He said, turning to look at you. You wanted to say yes, you really did. But you knew Jonah would be furious if he found out you had stepped a foot outside without him.

"I would love to, Lan, but i-i shouldn't." You muttered, but he shook his head, tutting.

"Wasn't a question. You and me, we're going out before your muppet of a brother shows up tomorrow and ruins out fun, alright ?" he said, smiling broadly at you. You scratched at your stomach, the hidden bruise on your ribs bothering you as yo sat uncomfortably on the chair, but you couldn't say anything was bothering you or Lando would be all over you.

"I'm serious, Lan, i don't think i should-"

"Nonsense. We're going to have fun."

You stared at him , your feet aching from being stood up so long.

"Should we go sit somewhere ?" Lando asks, his eyes happier than before. You nod.

"Sure." You follow him inside the McLaren hospitality, your hands shaky as you enter the place you haven't seen in three years. Everyone greets you with smiles and handshakes galore, and it makes you feel like you've been greeted home. It still feels weird that he hasn't hugged you yet, and you try not to let that bother you when you sit down on the couch in his driver's room, the door closing behind him. He turns to face you.

"I've missed you, y'know ?" He says, his voice soft as he leans against the door, his eyes looking up. "I didn't think i'd see you again after that night.. After Max told me you'd gone." He says, clearing his throat. You glance down at your hands, fiddling with the skin around your fingers.

"I didn't think i'd come back, to be honest." He looks at you, and his gaze softens.

"I'm sorry, for what i said." He says, licking his lips. You finally look up at him, and the look in his eyes makes you want to sob. "Everytime i think about it.. It makes me want to be sick. The way i treated you-"

"We don't have to talk about that." You say, begging to get away from that subject.

"But i want to apologise to you." He says, sitting next to you. "I didn't mean it. Any of it."

The music was loud, and Lando was leaning next to you at the bar. You were laughing along to something he had said, when your phone had started to ring in your pocket. Its was Jonah. Somehow he had found out you were out, and he was fuming. You were crying in a corner, hiding from Lando, from whom you had excused yourself from to answer the call. Your shoulders we shaking, your dress hiking up to your knees to reveal the bruises peppered on your thighs, the sweater you had slung over to hide the spagetti straps revealing the bruises on your collarbones was now too heavy to bear, making you sweat as you tried your best to control your breathing- yet every breath you took made your ribs ache ache and wince. You tore your sweater off, fanning at your face, relishing in the privacy to no longer hide underneath layers.

"Darling ? Are you in here ?" You tensed up at his voice. You wiped the runny mascara off your cheeks, forgetting you had taken your sweater off. Lando turned the corner, and his jaw almost dropped when he saw you.

"Jesus, Y/n. What has he been doing to you ?" You frowned, before looking down at yourself, the music from the club outside still thrumming on the floor. Your eyes went wide as he took a step closer to you grabbing your arm softly and looking at the bruises peppered on your body. You shook your head, new tears forming in your eyes.

"N-No, i'm just clumsy, I walked into a wall and i bumped into a few tables. You know how i am, Lan, it's nothing-" He shook his head, cutting you off.

"Don't lie to me, darling. I'm sick and tired of you being scared of doing things that you think he would see as out of line. You've changed, Y/n. You're not the same anymore, you're too preoccupied with what he thinks of you, of what he wants you to do." You frowned at his words. It was obvious he was drunk, his words were slurred, but he had had enough. Lando had loved you for years, not that the believed you loved him back, and the second he got into f1, Max had given him the green flag to go ahead and make a move, having placed a heavy hands off for most of your life. But his relentless moves onto you just seemed to anger you, and he didn't seem to understand why- so it's safe to say he was confused when Jonah appeared at the paddock with you, out of the blue. He tried to play it off, to act happy for you because you were happy and that was all that mattered to him. But when he saw you start to be more scared every time anyone lifted their hand or arm, or how you wore heavy and covered clothing even on the hottest of days- he knew something was wrong. Especially when you stopped hugging him before races, especially when Jonah was around, he was convinced something was wrong.

"You're not yourself anymore - You're scared of everything, you're nervous, you look like you don't want to be around me, and you're always doing whatever fucking Jonah wants you to do. Im sick of it. I'm sick of it, i'm tired of seeing you upset all the time." You gulped down tears, and Lando knew he was saying the wrong things. He couldn't tell if he was being rude, the alcohol too heavy in his veins, fogging up his brain.

"Why are you acting like this ?" You mumbled, shaking your head. His words were hitting you, deep. You knew he was drunk, but aren't drunk words simply sober thoughts ?

So Lando really thought you were a push over and you were just giving in to Jonah ?

Letting yourself get hit ?

"Because i love you, goddammit ! I've loved you since we were kids but i couldn't do anything about it because of your brother, but then when he gave me the green light, I was going to go for you- But then you brought fucking Jonah !" His words knocked the air straight out of your chest. He loved you ?

" And i knew he was off- I knew something was wrong with him. The second i saw you act weird, especially to me, i knew something was wrong and now i know !" He yelled, pointing at your bruises. "He's been hurting you, y/n, and you've been hiding it ! God, you should've told me ! All i want is to protect you, darling."

"Lan, you're being mean.."

"Mean ? Mean ?! I'm trying to help you because he's obviously not a good guy but you're too scared to do anything about it, so you've stayed with him for three years !"

"You don't think i know that ? You don't think i've tried to get away ?I have, Lan ! Ive tried to tell you and Max, anyone, but i knew you would act like this and i was scared of what you would do ! What do you think this entire weekend was about ? I was trying to have one good moment before i went back there and ended things with him and filed a restraining order against him !" He tensed up as you yelled back at him, tears streaming down your face. "You think telling me that i've been letting him do these things to me is going to make me fall for you ?"

His face fell, and he suddenly realised that he had made a big, big mistake.

"No, Y/n, that's not what i-"

"Well it's not. And to think i came here all this way for you, putting my ass on the line because who knows the things he will do to me when i get back." You screamed, your throat yelling at you with every raise in. your tone, your voice cracking.

"Then stay. Don't go back, stay with me." He begged. He could tell you wanted to, but his earlier words were still stinging your heart. You shook your head and slipped your sweater back on. You pushed past him, but he gripped your arm.

"No, please, i'm sorry, i didn't mean to yell." His eyes were pleading. "You know that's not what i meant. Please, love, i'm not in my right mind- Just stay until morning and i'll explain it t you when my head isn't moving at three thousand thoughts a minute- Please." You could tell he was drunk. But you still felt sick just looking at him.

"Well it's too late now isn't it ?" You mumbled, before breaking free and running off.

You were on a plane out of the country before Max's had even landed.

"Not any of it ? Wow, okay." You ask, feeling that same prickly feeling in your throat as you did that night.

"Well i meant one part." He says, looking down at you. " I do love you."

"Lando, can we not do this, please ?" He shakes his head.

"But i want to. I don't like knowing you're mad at me-" You stand up, shaking your head, sniffling.

"I didn't come here to hear a half assed apology, Lan. I came here to support you because you're my friend and i missed you, for some reason. But if you're just going to toy with me again, and remind me of things i'd rather forget, then i can't do this." You say.

The thought of anyone genuinely loving you feels suffocating after Jonah.

It makes you sick to even think of being in such a vulnerable state again.

"I promise, i'm not-"

"I'll see you at dinner." You mutter, your chest heaving up and down in panic. He frowns as you move past him and leave his room storming out into the sun to find Max, your mind reeling.

Dinner is not going to be enjoyable.

❀❀❀

The dress is uncomfortable against your ribs, gulping heavily. The car is quiet, Pietra sitting beside you, Max in the front passenger seat near Lando. You try to avoid his eyes darting over to you at every red light, but it's getting painstakingly hard when his breathing gets heavier each time you look down to avoid his gaze. Pietra is scrolling mindlessly on her phone, her head resting on your shoulder as the car trudges past the streets. The restaurant Lando pulls into is fancy, with a valet at the door who takes the car off of his hands as you climb out. Pietra grabs your hand, talking happily about something as max softly touches your shoulder to make sure you're alright.

It feels weird- Wearing a dress and not having to cover a bruise.

You blink hurriedly and let Pietra drag you into the restaurant behind Lando and your brother, leading you to the table. She sits down beside you, Max sitting down infront of her, leaving Lando to sit down infront of you. You gulp and cats your eyes down, trying to include yourself in the conversation happening between your brother and his girlfriend, but it's all batting eyelashes and hand holding. Lando;'s foot nudges your calf. Your eyes snap over.

"Can we please talk-"

"Hi ! What can i get you tonight ?" Lando looks up at the sudden interruption. It's a young waiter, a large smile on his face.

"Uh, we haven't looked at the menu's yet-"

"Oh that's fine, would you like anything to drink ?" Lando's jaw tenses.

"No, it's fine we'll let you know when we're ready-"

"Well, i can offer you some specials ! We have cocktails with free refills, a wine cave that has been critically acclaimed for it's diversity-" Lando's fist comes smashing against the table. You flinch, the suddenness of it all making you jump. Max even looked over at the commotion, his brows knotted in confusion. Lando didn't get angry- at least not that angry. And he did, he'd be more likely to stay angry in silence until he' s calmed down enough to rationally discuss why he was angered in the first place.

"For fucks sake, can you give us a minute !" The young boy stammers, gulping heavily.

"Y-yes, sir. Sorry, sir." The boy backs away, his hands shaking. Like how your hands shook as you dialed 9-1-1 from the hidden safety of your bathtub, bleeding from five different areas, Jonah having left to "clear his head" after beating you to a pulp.

Your eyes are wide in fear, your stomach churning with bile. Max seems to notice and he nods at Pietra, who places her hand over yours tentatively, your eyes trained on Lando, who is staring at you aswell.

"Y/n-" The second her hand touches yours, your body goes into fight or flight mode. You shove her off, leaping to your feet, your chest heaving, your chair groaning loudly on the floor. Everyone in the vicinity has turned to look at you. Max's eyes are wide, knowing the reason for your sudden change. You feel cornered, like every eye pouring into you is Jonah's- taunting you, promising to hurt you. Your eyes dart to Lando, who is staring up at you with worry in his eyes. You shake your head, a whimper forcing it's way out of your lips before running off, your heels clicking on the floor as whispers follow you.

"Y/n !" You hear Lando call, but you're already pushing open the door of the bathroom and locking it behind you after checking no one else was in the stalls. The second you're in privacy, tears start flowing down your cheeks, your hands clawing at your chest to get some sort of air into your lungs, the only thing keeping you up being the iron grip your free hand has on the small porcelain sink.

"Okay.. okay, breathe, Y/n. Jonah is far- He can't hurt you. He can't. He can't." You tell yourself through the rapid fire tears coursing down your face, making it hard for you to see or breathe.

"Darling ? Are you in here ?"

Deja vu hits you so hard you almost stumble backwards.

"I'm sorry, love, i didn't mean to yell."

There it is again.

"Will you please open the door ?"

His voice is so soft, so comforting, you don't even think. The lock comes clicking open and before you know it you're wrapped up into his arms, pushing you back into the bathroom, his voice muffled into your hair as he holds you close, apologising profusely. His hand is pinned to your waist, the other buried in your hair as your hands come to squeeze around his torso, his lips kissing your temple.

"Fuck, i'm sorry. I'm so sorry. God, i'm so sorry, Y/n." He breathes, gently rocking you back and forth. You nod against his chest, relishing in his touch. This is the first time in three years he's held you close.

"I'm sorry about the fight, i had no idea how bad it was, y/n." he pulls away, cupping your cheeks to make you look at him. "I never should've said any of those things. God, you're so strong for even thinking of getting out, my love. He never deserved you, and you never deserved to be treated that way, even less for me to be a dick about it because i was drunk and hung up over you." he peppers kisses all over your face. "And i'm so sorry for yelling just now, really i am, I just felt so bad because you wouldn't even look at me, and i got carried away and-" he stops himself when he realises he's rambling. "I'm sorry." He says, his tone stern. He brushes a strand away from your face, your hands resting on his torso as he stays cupping your cheeks.

"If I could take back that entire fight, I would. Please.. Don't ever leave me again." he begs, his voice cracking as his own tears fill his eyes. "It's been hell without you, Y/n. And knowing it was my fault you stayed away just makes it worse." He says. You lick your lips, and you look up at him through tear-soaked eyelashes.

"You promise you love me ?" Your voice is wobbly. The thought of hearing him say those words again makes you sick yet excited.

"Baby.. I've loved you since we were six. Of course i love you - i'll never stop loving you. And i can love you how you deserve to be.. if you let me." He says, his eyes scanning your face. He awaits for your answer, cleafly impatient. He chuckles softly.

"i really don't mean to push, y/n, but you're killing me here-"

You cut him off, reaching up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips, your hands finding the soft yet gelled tips of his curls, digging your fingers through them like how you used to fantasise when you were teenagers. His hands grab your waist possessively, pushing you up against the door, settling his knee n between your thighs to keep you up as he focuses on cupping your cheeks and kissing you long and hard, as much as he can, relishing in this moment. A soft whine is pulled from your lips as his hand softly settles around your neck, tilting your face up to get easier access, your smaller frame fitting into his tall one with ease. After a while, he finally pulls away to let you breathe, his hands strong on your hips, your own buried in his hair.

"Fuckin' hell." He pants, his forehead resting against yours. You nod, your eyes shut closed. Secretly, you're scared to open your eyes, because you think he might disappear if you look at him for too long.

"Does this mean you forgive me ?" He asks against your neck, his breath hot on your nape, his lips trailing your jaw. You slap at his chest as you laugh, your eyes opening. He laughs, shaking his head as he kisses along your jaw and collarbones.

"Yes, it means i forgive you, you muppet." You laugh, burying your face in his chest as he kisses your temple.

"God it feels so good to hold you." he mutters, his voice groggy. He cutches you tighter, kissing your nose. You scrunch it up, smiling.

"Y/n ? You in here babe ? Max is really worried, and -" The door comes flying open and Pietra stumbles in, taking in the scene before her- you and lando, both of your lips swollen, Lando's smeared with lipgloss, his curls a mess, his head buried in your neck. You try to shove him off, scared at the sudden exposure of his affection. A sudden jolt of fear courses through your body. God, if Jonah saw you and Lando so close, he would kill you- But then it hits you. Jonah actually can't hurt you.

"Hi, P." Lando smiles lazily as he kisses your forehead and pulls you in, refusing to let you go. Pietra smiles broadly.

"Oh. My. God. Max is going to flip !" She says, laughing. She runs off, ready to go tell Max as Lando finally breaks away from you and slips his hand in yours. He looks up at you, wiping the fallen tears off your tears and kisses your knuckles.

"Mine ?" He whispers. You smile, rolling your eyes.

"Yours." You reply. He smiles, tugging you along to the main room, where the restaurant seems to have continue past your earlier outburst. Max's eyes almost bulge out of his head when he notices your hands intertwined, and for the first time in a while..

It feels good to be vulnerable.

It feels good to be loved.

a/n- YALL I LOWK HATE THIS SOMEONE PLS CONVINCE ME OTHER WISE 😭 ( ALSO YAY LANDO WIN- OBVI A FIC IS COMING UR WAY THERE'S ALSO LIKE THREE OTHERS IVE BEEN WORKING ON SO STAY POSTED FOR THAT UHHHH REQUESTS ARE OPEN AS ALWAYSSSSS)

[actuallysaiyan]

I Belong With You and Only You(Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader)

warnings: fluff, mentions of shaving, domesticity, smut, fellatio(male receiving oral sex) word count: 1.3k pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: you always love watching Nanami during his morning routine, but this morning you don't want him to leave for work a/n: This is for @beneathstarryskies as without you, I wouldn't have posted this at all. Thanks for being so kind to me.

Mornings are very routine in your household. You sleep a few extra minutes as Kento gets up early. He takes his time getting ready, making sure everything is perfect. You always listen to the roar of the shower as you lay in bed. You already miss him, rolling over to rest on his side. You press your face in his pillow, inhaling his beautiful scent. He smells like expensive cologne that you’ve complimented him on before. Musky and leathery with a hint of sandalwood.

You get up from the bed, slipping your feet into the house slippers that are well-worn and loved. Then you pad your way into the bathroom, hoping to catch Kento before he’s gotten dressed for the day.

Leaning against the doorway, you admire your husband. He’s got shaving cream on his face as he prepares himself for a shave. He’s always shaved every single day, which always makes you wonder what he could look like if he were to let his facial hair grow out. The thought of Kento with a beard excites you in ways you never even thought possible.

He turns to look at you, a smirk buried beneath all that shaving cream. He loves it when you watch him do his morning routine. It’s one of his favorite things about the mornings. To him, it’s so intimate to share a moment like this. It allows him to bring down those walls he puts up for everyone else and be so vulnerable for you.

You approach him slowly, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. Your lips feel so warm and soft on his skin as you press kisses all along his back. Kento has never felt more loved in his life than whenever he’s with you. Your softness pulls this warmth from deep inside him and it makes him forget all his trauma.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” He says, picking up his razor. “Are you going to make breakfast?”

You giggle softly, “Hmm…no.”

He raises an eyebrow, “No? But…you always make me breakfast whenever you wake up with me.”

You continue pressing soft kisses all over his back and shoulders. You have to be on your tiptoes to reach the highest spots. He shudders under your soft touch and sweet affections. Then he turns around and he’s got some shaving cream in his hand. You squeal when he begins rubbing it on your face, and you’re both laughing.

Tears stream down your face from laughing so hard. Kento has to clutch his stomach as he continues to laugh. You’re both trying to catch your breath after a little bit, and you lean against him as he wraps one of his arms around you. You look in the mirror and point.

“We match,” you say. Kento smiles.

“Yeah, we do.”

His heart feels so warm and so tender right now. Nothing could ever beat these kinds of moments together. It’s what keeps you together and what keeps you falling together over and over again. Then Kento leans against the counter and you watch carefully as he shaves his face. The way he does it seems so effortless, but you know this is something he’s done over and over again for so many years.

“You look so good, you know that?” you ask him as you grab his ass. He’s rinsing off his face right now, so it surprises him when you touch him like that.

Kento grunts, “What is this, honey? You looking for attention?”

You try to look innocent, but he knows better. He doesn’t have the time right now to give you the attention you crave, which makes him sad. He wishes he could just spend every single second of every single day with you. He’d never go back to work if he could just spend this time with you. But he knows it’s not realistic.

“Can’t you just stay home with me?” you ask, batting your eyelashes.

Kento sighs, “Love, you know I can’t…”

His heart wrenches when he sees you pouting. It’s not a look he likes to see on your face. He’d much rather see you smiling or laughing like you were earlier. And then your frown turns into a mischievous smirk. You drop to your knees and begin tugging on the knot that’s keeping his towel firmly wrapped around him.

“Don’t be a brat. You know I don’t have time for this,” Kento grunts, his voice raspy.

You smirk up at him, “But…you’re so hard.”

You’re right. He’s hard and leaking already. It took barely anything for him to become erect. Just the sight of you on your knees in front of him and taking off his towel was enough to get his mind whirring to life. The sleepiness was long gone and now he was more than happy to see where this goes.

“Shit…” Kento sighs, “Love, you know I don’t have time for this.” He repeats.

But you decide to ignore him. You press soft kisses to the head of his dribbling cock. You moan as you taste his musky flavor, wanting nothing more than to completely drink him up. The moment you wrap your plump lips around his leaking tip, he knows he’s not going to be able to pull away.

Kento lets out a moan as his fingers come down to tangle in your beautiful hair. His hips buck up for more stimulation, pressing his cock further down your throat. You sputter for a moment, but you’re quick to recover. You begin bobbing your head up and down, following a rhythm that drives him crazy.

“That’s what this is all about, huh?” Nanami says with a smirk on his face. “My little cockhungry girl couldn’t stay away from me. Going to make me miss a day of work just so you can be my little slut, hm?”

The words go straight to your cunt. You feel arousal building so deep inside of you. You look up at Kento and he gently caresses your cheek. He enjoys watching you worship his cock like this. Drool begins to dribble down your chin as you pick up your pace.

“Good girl, keep sucking my cock.”

You take him even further down your throat, swallowing around him and moaning as the taste of his precum coats your tongue. You needed this just as badly as he did. Kento is ready to spend the whole day with you, and he can just count it as one of his sick days. In his mind, it’s the best way to spend one of his sick days.

His fingers are still tangled in your hair, guiding you up and down on his cock. Your mouth is all messy with precum and spit. You look so fucking hot like this, it makes him feel like a horny teenager all over again. When he would spend late nights in his bed, cock in his hand with the thoughts of someone sucking his cock. In reality, the real thing is so much better than the fantasy. 

“That’s my good girl,”

You continue to deepthroat him, making sure to take him all the way down. One of your hands comes up to begin massaging his heavy balls. He’s clearly been thinking about this, otherwise he wouldn’t have become so aroused this quickly without warning. He wanted you to come in here this morning and try to seduce him.

Nanami has to grip the counter to steady himself as he feels the telltale signs of his orgasm fast approaching. Your mouth is so tight and wet and warm. A few more thrusts of his hips and he’s pulled over the edge. He growls loudly as his cock begins to throb; a steady stream of his cum begins to shoot down your throat.

You moan as you taste him, the vibrations causing him to tremble as the orgasm washes over him. You feel him pushing you down so far that your nose presses against the light blond hair that sits at the base of his cock. He grunts soft, sweet words of praise as he rides out his high.

Once he’s done, he pulls you back up to your feet and he kisses you roughly. He can taste himself on your tongue and it has him half-hard almost instantly.

“Get on the bed. Now.”

[marvelfanfics1]

Hi! Could you do a Rafe x Little!Reader where it is the readers first time being little around Rafe and the reader is very shy and emotional and it’s just all cute and fluffy please?

I totally get it if you can’t!

Btw, I absolutely loved your Moody Princess one shot, thank you so much for writing it!

Baby's Safe Space

Pairing: daddy!rafe x pogue!little!reader

Warnings: age regression, small mentions of past abuse, soft!rafe, fluff

A/n: Thank you lovely! I hope I made the request justice and that you like how it came out 🫣🫶🏻

⭒𖥸⭒

It took Rafe some time to understand the aspects of regressing but after you explained it to him he started to do more research on his own, and maybe buying some stuff online he thought you would like, to show his support.

You told Rafe that regressing is just how you cope with past trauma you endured during your childhood.

He understood how important it is for your little self to feel safe and protected, knowing it's not for everyone to see and felt honored that you finally got the courage to talk about it with him. That you feel safe enough in his presence to show your most vulnerable side.

Growing up at the cut with abusive parents took quite a tool on you and as you found out about the term age regression it was clear to you it's what you needed to cope or what you deserved to have.

Rafe was beyond anxious that he somehow mess things up by saying or doing the wrong thing that it results in you being little by yourself again.

He felt bad knowing you probably were only little when he would have busy work days or a business trip.

It was a little into the afternoon and you just got out of the bathroom after doing your skincare and Rafe instantly noticed the pastel colored jammies that had little bunnies printed all over them.

He smiled at you softly, internally excited as hell to finally see that side of you and even curious as to how different your behavior is now in this state.

He noticed at the way you fiddled with the hem of your shirt that you're probably even more nervous than him right now, which is totally understandable.

It was already a hard challenge for you to even tell him about it.

Putting his phone aside he waved you over to him.

"Come here, baby. Promise I won't bite ya." He smirked and to see you smile a little was already a triumph to him.

Shyly you shuffled over to the bed, climbing your way up to snuggle into Rafe's side and grasping his shirt in one of your hands.

He wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head when suddenly he remembered what he had hidden under the bed. "Ah- wait a second..."

He reached beside under the bed to pull out a white box with a rather big red ribbon on top of it. You sat up straight when he placed it between you both. "I- uh...thought you might like it and if not that's totally fine."

You haven't even opened it yet but Rafe certainly knew you cherish absolutely anything he gifted you.

He was just afraid he would go too far with what he bought you but the sparkle in your eyes already eased his nerves a little.

You slowly took of the lid and gasped. There was a lamb stuffie, color books with crayons, and some obviously custom made pacis in your favorite colors you had been dreaming of getting for yourself for a while now.

You instantly teared up, scaring Rafe beyond belief. "Hey, hey...what's wrong kid?" He asked reaching out to cup your face in his large palms, his thumb swiping away the tears that slipped before asking. "Was it too much at once?"

You quickly shook your head which was a little hard with him holding your face. You placed your hands over his, smiling at him. "Dey are happy tears."

"Really? You don't have to say that just to-" you silenced him by leaning forward to peck his lips.

"fank you, Rafey..." You whispered and he pressed his forehead against yours.

"Not for that, baby. I'd do anything to make you happy."

After your sweet moment you only pulled out the stuffie and a paci, placing the box on the ground beside the bed and snuggled back into Rafe's side. You popped in your paci and had the lamb held snugly under your chin while he turned on the TV and looked through Netflix for a movie that suited your headspace, yet he had some difficulty.

"Can you tell me how old you're feeling right now?" He asked and you held up three fingers. After a moment of looking through the kids section he stopped when you squealed quietly and pointed your finger at the screen at seeing your favorite cartoon making Rafe chuckle slightly. "Alright, guess it's gonna be this one."

He put the cartoon on play, an arm wrapping around you to keep you close and kissing your head.

You sighed contently, mumbling sleepily from behind your paci. "Lub you Rafey..."

"I love you more, baby."

                                       ⭒𖥸⭒

Taglist

for everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

Crossed out are the ones I somehow can't tag!

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Lazarus (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 2)

"According to tradition, Lazarus never smiled during the thirty years after his resurrection, worried by the sight of unredeemed souls he had seen during his stay in Hell..."

Word count: 5.7 k

Tags and warnings: Angst, fluff, soft smut 🔞. Slightly possessive!Ghost. Graphic depictions of past suicidal thoughts. Dating, kissing, cuddlefucks, emotions (the most daunting cw there is). Unfettered prose about a grown man's complex trauma. Reader is female and works as a medic at the base. Ghost POV.

Summary: You've just started dating Ghost. (This is a standalone sequel to Refugee)

She tastes round and sweet after the tang of blood and smoke and metal of the field. She feels like warm cascading water after the bleak, dead weight of a gun that leaves his hands throbbing with recoil. Her skin returns the memory of Paradise until it overrides everything else.

She's a soft blooming to the senses.

And his have been blown wide, torn apart, shot full of noise. There's an amputated, burnt stump where there should be a limb and some soft skin. But still, a blast that burns flesh from bones is not that different from her soft whisper that has the power to level him like a nuclear wind.

. . .

They're some kind of a secret, although he doesn't know why exactly.

Perhaps because she knows enough by now. She knows he's a dead man.

A ghost.

And women like her don't date apparitions. They deserve more than just bones and a haunting: they deserve flesh and blood and solid ground. She deserves far more than promises he has no power or right to give.

He has no mandate for life. His is a half-life, and stolen; he's living on borrowed time.

She doesn't only protect his phantom, she shields herself from talk and rumors. It's only understandable. He takes everything she gives him, which is more than he deserves.

He fucks her to ruin on the conference table people share in the meetings. He makes her leak all over his desk during quiet afternoon hours of his office; he makes her come on his tongue in the fucking hangar after a long day, just to get the taste of dry desert sand off his mouth.

She stops complaining about propriety after that. After all, she's the one who came there on his call and allowed him to rip her pants down when there was only settling dust to accompany them in the quiet hall.

It doesn't take long to see that the woman's not actually complaining at all. She fucking loves it when he barges in and simply takes her.

And he buries himself inside her like she's the base. His home after a mission, his destined location after deployment. She lets him fuck her practically anywhere except on the floor.

That's his place. And he has no problem with lying down there in the filth, especially if it means he gets to watch how she sits on his cock until that pretty little face distorts with pleasure that looks like pain.

His field pants and navy blues have cum stains after his visits while she cleans herself up in no time, fixes her hair and looks as innocent as ever. His mask smells of cunt when he's trying to concentrate on missions, and the scent of her juice makes him hard while he's supposed to be instilling brass into bodies. He smokes cigarettes just to drive the maddening taste of her from his tongue.

He's gonna get killed one of these days. The irony doesn't escape him: it's not a bullet or a grenade that will take him, but that sweet, hazy memory of her cunt.

She's an obsession. He injects himself full of her like the most pathetic addict.

Until one day, she says it can't continue like this. That it won't do to rut like animals until the smell of mad sex coats the room she's supposed to stitch and staple people in.

It causes a small panic till she asks him to visit her.

In her home.

It sounds serious: it sounds like she wants more than just his cock. And he's fucking terrified.

Women think about whether to wear this dress or that on a date: he thinks about whether to put on the mask or not – he meditates on it for two whole hours. Everything else is clean and in order; he looks like a human and not a soldier. But he can't rid himself of the skeleton.

There's a storm coming when he reaches her place. It electrifies the air until his spine is full of thunder.

She seems surprised – happily so – when she finds him at the door, decent as can be. He gets one of those innocent smiles which are pure sin beneath.

"You came."

"Sure."

She doesn't ask why he's always wearing a mask. She takes what he has to give, which is his all, which he fears will never be enough.

"There's food–"

She lets out a delightful little noise when he picks her up and carries her to what looks like the biggest and softest bed he has ever laid a woman on, ever laid himself on.

So, she likes luxury. Or at least, comfort.

Softness. Hugs… Support.

And kisses, apparently, because his mask is lifted without permission. Not that she needs one.

"Simon, I made you some dinner," she laughs in his mouth, and he's smiling – she's the only one who makes him fucking smile.

"Later," he rasps with a sore throat – he has become soft, too, and it's her fault. He has barked orders all day, but with her, his voice always comes out quiet and calm.

Where her domain at work consists of harsh lights and sterile frigidity, her home is dark and warm like a womb. His senses are filled with lemon and thyme – she has made something he's never tried before, something… Mediterranean, perhaps. A culinary ambrosia for someone who has lived on dog food and tried to thrive on it.

It's a pity that he's a barbarian, and here for dessert. As much as he likes the dainty little thing she has put on just for him, it's not cunning enough to stop him from ripping it to shreds.

She protests at first with a posh little gasp, but then she spreads her legs like it's open season and he's the VIP customer. The laced, pathetic little thing lays in wreckage around all that softness creaming just for him, and his mouth shoots full of water.

The feel of her is better than sinking a knife between two ribs. She's velvet on his scar and coarse stubble and for the first time in his life, he curses the mask. She moans all around him, tries to grab him by the hair still under the black fabric.

And it makes him want to rip it off and let her yank and tug to her heart's content, grab his hair and push his face as deep inside her cunt as it goes.

He tries to fit inside her apartment, a serene space filled with scented candles and clean carpets and frilly little curtains that shift in the restless night wind.

He tries to fit inside her.

The attempt always makes her moan and tremble and sigh. It's hard to focus on the task at hand when he wants to freeze the moment to where her lashes flutter and she stops breathing for a second – when she takes him in with grace and hunger.

"Oh fuck…"

She swears this time, watches with helplessness and an open mouth as his cock slowly disappears inside her. Then she looks up at him like…

Like she's missed him.

"You're a brute," she whispers, eyes shining.

"Thought you liked brutes."

"I made you dinner and you…Ah…"

He arrives home, heavy and loaded with yearning.

First things first.

It has been a week, and there's been no time to relieve the pain, nowhere to go and wank off the sickness that festers inside him every second they're apart. And she's the only one who can cure his disease. But he does feel like a brute for not letting her feed him. When was the last time anyone made him anything?

The sea is booming now, roaring behind the window she has left open. This time, they're not fucking at the base, in some corner of a room with a lock hurriedly latched on. He's fucking her amidst doused lights and a seaside breeze that enters their skin through an open window. He's at the beach, even when there's no sun. The sands are even more stunning with a gathering storm.

He fucks her like a dog, and she looks at him with weak love in her eyes. She's looking up at him with those big, wet eyes like he's the best leader there is - like she's counting on him. Like the people under his command, those who ask for his advice, ask for the next move.

It drives him fucking insane.

It's even better than a good round of sex: that unbound look of adoration. His mask is a poor shield against all that. She slips past it like she's the expert in clandestine warfare here. And suddenly he doesn't want any more secrets. There's a ton of them already; he carries the weight of them in his soul.

He's an underdog, always has been, but he's also a hound for claiming her as his that night.

After he's done fucking her to oblivion, he descends. She comes alive like a jolt of lighting in his arms as he kisses her, then sucks the tender skin of her neck. Everyone's going to see it, he makes sure of that by using the tiniest amount of teeth to finally mark her. She moans an equal amount as she does when she's clenching around his cock.

"Did you just give me a hickey?" She asks, breathless when he's done.

"High time, don't you think," he mutters. The woman will look glorious on the beach and highly improper at work.

Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas…

"You're unbelievable." She only laughs at his obsession. The woman’s not afraid at all, even when she’s face to face with a monster. The sunshine of her smile pairs well with the crackle of thunder outside.

"You want a beer?"

He's too drugged to answer with nothing else than a surprised, drowsy blink. She laughs again and takes it as a yes, which it is. He stares in awe as the woman walks to the fridge, all naked and lax from his treatment, takes out a bottle, opens it, and brings it to him. She takes none for herself; she only serves him like he's some kind of a king. When he takes a sip, she smiles again: lighting flashes somewhere in the distance and gives her an aureole of light, a halo of an angel for a second.

"I'm gonna go take a shower." The wink she gives him makes it perfectly clear that she wouldn't mind him joining her. But as she goes by the mirror, the vision of his claim stops her.

"Simon…"

He gets a scolding, and it only makes the corner of his mouth tug.

"No concealer is going to cover this."

"That's the point," he takes another sip while lying on her too-soft bed. She shakes her head before walking to the shower. The eye of the storm is above him, and everything's silent, like he's lounging on a dream.

The bottle in his hand sweats cold condense in his hand, and like always with her, he finds himself in the present moment. He drinks the beer in less than ten seconds, then takes the mask off and leaves it somewhere among the sweat and cum stained sheets.

It's the first time she has seen him without the shield, the first time she sees his body in full light. Every protrusion of white scar, every part of uneven skin, every marring of two and three stage burns is visible as if he is on a well-lit stage.

"Well. Pleased to meet you."

The smile that greets him, the veil of surprise that draws aside to reveal pure delight and marvel is more than worth the risk. She's frozen in time with a bottle of shower gel in her hands, too preoccupied with the trust he has decided to arm her with. She now has power over him, but he proceeds to do what he came here to do. Which is to make her sing a second time.

"For what do I owe this pleasure–"

The bottle falls on the tiles with a soft plunk as he steps between her legs and lifts her against the wall.

On that, she doesn't only kiss him; she takes the scar of his lip between hers and sucks. The warm water is nothing compared to her hands which sweep up and down his back and release years and years of tension. She whines when he only gives her shallow thrusts, then tries to claw his back to get more of his cock. It makes him chuckle.

"Needy," he comments on such delightful hunger, and she lets out the most annoyed, frustrated noise he has ever heard on her.

"Stop teasing, Riley…"

She tends to use his last name when she's fed up with him. It's supposed to create distance, but it only makes him latch himself onto her more fiercely.

He could torture her, delve deep, dig out even more frustrated sounds from her, but that's a quest for another time. He grants her wish along with his own and slides fully in. She kisses him through the whole fucking, and he feels like he's in boiling water, cooking until the raw meat grows tender and prepared.

And he realizes he's not actually fucking her: he's making love to her. He didn't even know he could do that.

When they've had their fill, the water takes away his gift. It feels wrong that something meant to be inside her leaks down some filthy drain. It's like a testimony, an illustration of his whole life: that his essence, his worth, belong in the sewers.

"You're a beautiful man," she whispers on his skin while caressing his back filled with past torture. His stomach churns, he feels like throwing up and falling asleep at the same time. An odd sensation.

She holds his mutilated corpse under the descending water and breathes life into him. The vomit never comes. He exhales history on her skin, inhales some peace in its stead.

In the morning the sound of thunder has been replaced by myriad birdsong.

. . .

He never meant to bring her here, but the wind on the beach is too harsh today and she's cold. It would be ungentlemanly not to get her a jacket from his apartment when it's only a few hundred meters away.

"To say that this place needs a woman's touch would be an understatement, Riley."

There's little else here but a tv and a fridge. He doesn't need either of them, but they're there to remind him what a home should look like. She takes the deafening silence and barren wasteland well, far better than he ever imagined she would.

"Y'can touch anything you want."

She turns and raises an eyebrow – he already knows that look. He's in for it now.

"Smooth... Very smooth." She walks to him and pushes him to the armchair. Not with force, because she doesn't need it. He falls to the sagged old thing like it's suddenly cloud nine rather than his old deathbed.

He waits for her to climb onto his lap and ride him until the chair breaks under the weight of their love. He could use a new chair anyway.

But she doesn't do that.

She gives her what this place has been missing.

A woman's touch.

Her mouth is hot as hell, wet like the gulfs that used to drown men in the sea centuries ago. She's a siren with her songs, but this time, she's quiet.

The room is not: the deathlike silence is suddenly filled with wet urgency and sloppy sounds of adoration. All his hauntings recede to the shadows like the blowjob is a whole exorcism.

His head falls back, and the first charred moan coats the air like it's been entombed for decades. And it has.

She is encouraged by the sound, and the tongue that sweeps the underside of his cock sends him jolting from his shallow grave.

Jesus fuckin'–

"Fuck…" He tries to blink back tears or death while looking at the crumbling paint on the ceiling. He feels equally worn out on her tongue: old and a lot of work, but a woman's touch is like magic.

"Mm–h." She dares to moan on his cock as if it's the best thing she's had in her mouth in decades, too. She even brushes her fingertips over his balls like they're some newfound treasure. They pull taut under her touch, stupefied by the sudden attention.

He can feel the upcoming blaze. It gathers at the base of his spine, his cock is brick-heavy in her mouth, and she won't stop – fuck, she goes even deeper…

"Fuckin' hell, pet…"

His thighs bunch and spread, a scorching groan erupts like he's a volcano and not a man. That's when she gives his cock a long, torturing suck, and he's gone, there’s no time and space other than her hot velvet mouth that surrounds him like the hot core of a star.

She adds a hand at the base of him, and he explodes so hard that he barely has brain cells left to worry about whether she will choke on it. But she doesn't even gag, even if the first spurts must be more than generous.

Fuck, this woman…

He melts in the chair while she finishes the rest of him, takes all he has to give, like she always does. They're an odd pair: an angel and a demon, and he feels like he's finally saved, resurrected – this room, this chair has never seen anything like this.

It's different with her, the emptiness that comes after. It's not filled with grief but deliverance.

He wants her to know what she’s just done, but he knows the things he's good at, and he knows the things he's not. Words are one of those things. She moans and begs and shatters and swells in his arms, she takes on a volcano and resurrects corpses long since dead, and he still doesn't know how to tell her. That he's hers, that he wants to make her feel as good as he bloody fucking can. He could be tortured for days and he still wouldn't know the right words. He tries to tell it to her in other ways and sees how she settles.

He would rather kill the whole human population on this earth than see her settle for anything.

So he forces the strange words out, fleshes them on his tongue and pushes them through teeth to haunt the stale air of his apartment that has never seen such love before.

"I missed you."

Of course it sounds so odd that she laughs. Bitter, too.

"You missed my tongue."

"No. I missed you."

She finally raises her eyes to his, doesn't try to blink back the watercolors. Those eyes are shining; they're beckoning.

"I missed you too," she says, then lays her head on his thigh like she's only a humble servant begging for mercy.

It's a farce. He's a skeleton, a ghoul of useless rubble while she's celestial; she's summer, a fucking empress.

It rips his chest to see her on her knees on the dirty floor, that she's comforting him in a chair that should've been his disposal site. The leather was supposed to be painted with shards of bone and puddles of pink-white brain; this room was supposed to echo with a single blast of a gunshot, not with roars of fragile love. He would've been found relatively soon, the neighbors wouldn't have had to complain about the smell: after all, the military takes care of their own. A lieutenant's absence wouldn't have gone unnoticed, even if everything else in him would never have been missed by anyone.

He brushes her hair, and she sighs, oblivious to his past hell. All nine circles of it, an inferno that would put poets to shame. And she doesn't know she has pulled him from the depths just by smiling.

. . .

"Promise to come back."

"Yeah I promise."

He can't promise that. Fuck, that he wants to.

Every bullet acquires sound, like that birdsong from her little window. They gain weight, they start to carry death. It used to be his power: to bring destruction. He was put on this earth to reap.

Now he's alive.

He's suddenly a man who can be killed.

Now everything's bright like he's a newborn trying to get used to a world full of pain. Light and sound and time and space; mortality.

Sharpened instincts have never been his friend. It used to be a simple dance: knife out, knife in. Drop 'em.

Line the sights and deal extinction. Walk like a ghost until the battering ram announces there's death coming.

It takes him a while to understand where the sorcery lies.

It's in the senses. She's sensuous.

"Simon–"

He hears her in the shaded crevice of rocks, catches phantom notes of vanilla from the dry desert air that tries to push through the filthy fabric of his mask. She’s with him just before the hatch opens, and for the first time in his life, he hesitates before the jump.

She tastes round and sweet after the tang of blood and smoke and metal of the field. She feels like warm, cascading water after the bleak, dead weight of a gun that leaves his hands throbbing with recoil. Her skin returns the memory of Paradise until it overrides everything else.

She's a soft blooming to the senses. And his have been blown wide, torn apart, shot full of noise. There's an amputated, burnt stump where there should be a limb and some soft skin. But still, a blast that burns flesh from bones is not that different from her soft whisper that has the power to level him like a nuclear wind.

He has to learn how to come back to his senses. It's a joke that makes him wish he could shed tears. Luckily, she's the best teacher he could ever have.

"Fuck, Simon…"

He tries to quit smoking just to be able to taste her better. A scorched tongue is a curse when a man can't get enough of cream and silk.

"I need you. Need you so much. You don't even know..."

He knows. He knows that the depth of his need surpasses hers; it always has and always will.

The last time he saw her wasn't at the base; it was when he woke up to the sight of her foraging for orange juice from the fridge with his sweatshirt on. She combined sultry lace and bare, smooth skin with an old, black hoodie.

And it swallowed her. All his darkness. She only looked sleepy and content while being smothered by all that dark cotton.

"I'm gonna make some breakfast," she announces upon seeing he's awake. "You like bacon and eggs?"

What the fuck did I do to deserve you.

She knows full well she could offer him a chest filled with gold, and it wouldn't be half as tempting as her little American breakfast.

"That'll do."

He was supposed to go to the shower but instead, his feet take him right back to her. She gives him a pleasant hum when his hands fall on her shoulders and start to rub some stress away. He knows it will make her moan, as it does now. She leans a little into him, surrenders to his treatment.

"Simon… Do you come here just for sex?"

The hiss of cooking bacon almost drowns the question. Just one syllable less, and the question would be as she originally meant it to be.

Does he come to her just for sex.

"No."

She turns to look at him with a shy little smile. It makes him want to crush her against that counter until those lips part with a helpless sound.

"I like your cooking."

"You…ass," she laughs, shoves him lightly.

He treats every day like it’s his last with her, waits patiently for her to realize he is not the man she thinks he is. Under the bones he wears there’s only more bones, nothing more. She can feed him all she wants, but it will only make him more hungry; and a day will come when she sees he’s not actually a man at all but a yawning, six feet grave.

The black cotton hugs her and makes it falsely look like this woman belongs to him. It’s another round of torture to see how she takes his shirt, takes his cock, plays with the only things he can give her for a while or two.

She has the sweater on as she gives him the softest farewell smile. She adds a few words, some more detail to her request. In truth, it's his new protocol.

"Promise to come back to me."

He doesn't ask for the sweatshirt back.

She's left with it and his promise.

. . .

"Poor lass's always sulking when you're on those solo missions."

He knows that Price might know about them by now. But if Soap knows, everyone knows.

He doesn't care: after all, the woman doesn't even try to conceal the seductive looks and dreamy smiles she gives him whether there are other people present or not. They're not a secret anymore. Perhaps that's the way she wants it to be.

But the information Soap gives him is new.

"She is?"

He goes straight to her after the plane lands. Doesn't give a single fuck about that smug look the boy gives him.

She looks slightly surprised as he simply walks in: she can see he's filthy. He has grime on his hands, on the fingerless gloves that make it easier to operate a gun when there's no threat of sweating. He smells of smoke and ruin, gasoline and tobacco – a lousy compensation for her, a ridiculous substitute to calming his nerves when he knows the mission is going to be tricky. It already pisses him off that her cream will be mixed with smoke and disease again. He knows his weaknesses, which aren't many. But with her, he has learned it's not about the quantity.

The sorrow is briefly disguised from him. It's admirable: the way she tries to hide even the plainest of things. He knows her by now, knows that the sun casts shadows too. She should know he's the one she can cast them safely with.

The throat between the shoulders burdened by work and worries looks fragile in his hands. A bird's neck he could wrench without breaking a sweat.

"Mmh. I love your hands."

"Just my hands?"

He shouldn't be touching her with his filth, but he can't help it anymore. If she loves it, who is he to argue back?

Love your hands too.

Fuck, I love your smile. Your tits, your lips. That little pout you got when you don't get what you want right away.

I love–

She sighs. Then she cranes that beautiful neck, clings to him with one, tiny hand. "Why are you here, Simon?"

"Heard you were sulking," he mutters in her hair.

"What…?" She laughs. She laughs, but she's not happy. "What on earth are you talking about?"

She's shy. Reserved. Hiding behind a wall of humor and sunshine and smiles. His darkness penetrates it all.

"Heard you're devastated when I'm gone," he tries even more softly.

She could take it as arrogance. One of his lousy jokes. But she knows better than that.

"I am," she finally says, angel-soft. When she turns, there's finally sorrow in her eyes. She looks up at him, up, up, again with that stare that says I am yours to command. On the brink of tears; tears he wants to battle to the abyss. But his muscles are no use here.

Her lip trembles, just a little, when he brushes his knuckles over her cheek.

"We can't have that."

"We can't?"

"No."

"Well what are you going to do about it?"

Her voice is soft, pleading. It's not a demanding question: the woman's simply out of it. She wants assistance, assurance.

What are your orders, sir?

She worries too much. Up until this point, he thought it’s just because she's dutiful, responsible, one of the best employees there is. But she's not tense from work.

It's not just the missed you's she whispers when his skin is at its most thin.

She fears losing him.

Stone-cold realism is required in his field of work; no sleight of hand magic can help him when he's facing the unavoidable. If the mission is impossible, he doesn’t take it. Because he can't change the unchangeable; he can't fight the inevitable. They both know he can't promise anything.

They both know he will do his best to come back. There was a time he would’ve considered it a blessing if he didn’t. Death used to be his only ticket to some peace.

She gives him an impossible mission, and he can't say no. Leadership is about taking care of people. His people. And she's more than just a subordinate.

He grabs her by the waist and raises her to the counter, relishes the way she gasps. She weighs nothing in his hands after cold, hefty cannons. It’s almost like she gains wings and flits to the tabletop designed for him to take her. It’s the perfect height for him to simply open his pants and alleviate her pain.

"Gonna fuck you until you cry."

She sighs. "You can't solve every problem with a gun or a cock, Riley."

The woman knows how to penetrate him, too. The stabbing doesn’t stop even when her thighs part slowly - she knows, just as much as he, that this is the best way to remind her just how alive he is. This is the only thing he can give her, and he is damn right going to deliver. His hand covers half of her thigh as he brushes a thumb over the sensitive inner side.

"You sure about that?"

That look of desperation makes him hard already. Her hands go about his neck in a perfect paradox with what she whispers next.

"Honey… Not here."

She calls him honey. As if this tar-black madness is only golden nectar to her.

"No?"

It’s not only sorcery, but necromancy: how she’s brought him back from the grave. No wonder such arts are considered dangerous. This is forbidden, and still, he cannot stop.

"Ya want me to stop?"

"...No."

He leaves most of her uniform on because he is in too much of a hurry to get between her legs. The woman molds herself against him the second his tip meets her folds.

"God, you feel good," she sighs as he slides in. It's like a prayer: both her words and his return back to the base. Alive.

"So fucking good…"

Fuckin' tell me about it.

She whimpers and clutches him like a little leech. Almost cries already.

"That's it. You just hold onto me."

If someone heard the way he's cooing in her ear, they would deem him soft in the head. He doesn't give a fuck.

Her moans chime inside his head like the softest, most beautiful opera. He has never been a man of high culture. The whole civilization could go to hell for all he cared. But she sings to him so beautifully that even a man like him can finally see the appeal. Legs wrap around him even tighter than those small hands until he doesn't know who's holding who here.

"That feel good..?"

"Yes… Don't stop, just don't stop."

She's almost limp in his arms. Good. He's managed to relieve that tension already.

He goes deeper, deeper, and a tiny hand that saves people instead of slaughtering them grabs him by the shirt, probably in an instinct to try and catch some skin. He can't see her face but the body against him trembles and shakes as he spreads her wide and pours love in her.

"No need to sulk, sweetheart. I got you."

She's crying, or laughing, or both. Of course she likes pet names paired with support. He adds it to the list of things the woman loves, the things he can give her. He hopes, half expects that she will shed some tears after shattering around his cock. She needs a good cry as much as she needs him. And nothing feels as good as this: being needed by her.

When she comes with an arched back and a scream he fears and hopes will reach every other officer here, he knows he can let go too. He's done his duty: now it's time to collect the reward. It's not transactional, she's not work, but she's still his responsibility. The woman's paycheck is fatter than anything he could ever get from his employer. He's inside her, but that doesn't mean she isn't inside him too. She's embedded in him in ways that threaten to swallow him and leave him on the shore like bleach-white bones on a beach. He stays inside her long after the waves have passed. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he doesn't dare to move.

"I still have your sweatshirt," she sighs while holding him.

"Good. Looks better on you."

"I sleep with it sometimes," she whispers and wraps herself around him so tight that he wishes he could be there every night to send her to sleep. Now she only has his memory as a company, some darkness far too big for her. "Sleep in it, actually."

His mind is like a wheel that turns around nothingness. There's nothing to hold on to; he's falling through starless space.

The eerie sound of gunshot echoes in his head, he thinks about the splatter of brain matter on the armchair; how there's at least one person in this world who would cry from hearing the news.

And not just any person, but her; a whole summer in one woman. A midsummer sun, missing some forgotten, weatherbeaten bones on a beach when there's plenty of flora and fauna to shine on.

"If you ever break your promise…"

She sniffs in his neck, and his embrace tightens instantly.

"Would rather die than break it."

His promise doesn't make any sense. Or perhaps it makes every sense. She finally cries like she's supposed to.

"Shh. I'm here now."

I'm not dead.

I'm not dead.

[peterman-spideyparker]

Something Good (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Heya! So, one big perk about being sick and working from home is that I'm really chugging through my idea notebook! This one is the first one on the page, actually, and it's inspired by "Something Good" from The Sound of Music. Enjoy :)

Summary: Matt's in love. He's not entirely sure he deserves it, but he found love with you. It's terrifying and special, and he knows he's beyond lucky.

Warnings: Sweet adorable fluff (Matt's in love, guys). No use of (Y/N), but it does refer to the reader being feminine/female-identifying

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 746

Matt’s no stranger to sleepless nights. From the sounds of the city keeping him up, to staying out until sunrise on patrol, to being kept awake by his injuries, to his nightmares, his worst case scenarios violently ripping him from his slumber. Tonight, though, tonight is different. He’s still experiences sleepless nights, all the fear and guilt that comes from the idea of not being good enough or strong enough. But those sleepless nights and all those worries have become lesser and lesser the more that you’re in his life. 

The first time you slept over, he was so worried he’d wake up screaming with a nightmare, he almost didn’t sleep. He was even apprehensive of having you stay over because he was concerned that Hell’s Kitchen would need it’s Devil and he’d have to slip out; you’d wake up in the middle of the night alone, and he’d loose something he worked hard to try and achieve—a normal relationship. And until that night, it had been just that for Matt, normal. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. Boy asks girl out. Boy takes girl on date. They date some more. He finally kisses her after arguably too long. Boy cooks girl a romantic dinner. Boy and girl spend the night together. Boy knows he feels something he’s never felt before.

But in all that worry that he’d mess up that first night, with all the fear that kept him wide awake in his own bed, you snuggled into him; in your slumber, you wrapped your arm around his torso, held him close, and cuddled down into his chest. Matt noticed how your heartbeat changed, how your breathing slowed and evened out. You were the purest form of content and relaxed with him. Now, that made him nervous because it meant that you felt the same way, too. And while it made him nervous, he felt his own heart steady and the sleep that he so desperately tried to fight off lay like weighted blankets on his eyes. He was the first one to wake up the next morning, and he found your positions unchanged; you were still latched onto him, and his arms were around you, keeping you close to his heart.

Each night after that got easier. He was afraid, though, for the inevitable. Mentioning this in passing to Foggy, his best friend closed his office door, sat down across from Matt at his desk, and laid it all out: how to carefully bring it up, broaching the topic of senses, his passion for justice—a methodical plan for how to tell you about his night job in a way that wouldn’t scare you away. Unfortunately for Matt, he’d been thinking about it so much, he started at the wrong spot of the explanation when he saw you later that night and put his foot in his mouth. But you stayed, you listened. You asked questions that he was happy to answer. You spoke well into the night, and at the end of it all, you didn’t leave; you took his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze, thanking him, and assuring him that his secret was safe with you.

Now, almost a year later, you were still by his side, guarding his secret, waiting up for him, patching up his wounds, protecting his heart, and holding him close. So, this time when sleep evades him, it’s not because of his fears, not because of his traumas, not because of his nightmares. It’s because he is wracking his brain, asking God to help him figure out what he did to deserve you because Matt cannot figure it out for the life of him. He tilts his head to the side of the bed where you’re sound asleep, still holding onto him like that first night together. As he thinks and thinks, he can only settle on the fact that at some point in his life, he must have done something good that made him worthy of you. If he can never figure it out, so be it. As long as you’re in his life, he doesn’t really care. Leaning over to press a long, sweet kiss into your forehead, he snuggles down onto you and pulls you close, letting your scent flood his senses and remind him that he’s safe with you, his heart is safe, and that he’ll never be more loved than by you.

Yeah, he must have done something good.

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Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters

[strawbeerossi]

If You Leave Me

Pairing: Fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After coming home, Spencer has nightmares of his wife leaving him after the weight of prison weighs on him after his release.

Content Warnings: Depression, mentions of problems with eating, nightmares, fear of abandonment, mention of parental abandonment, spoilers for the prison arc, mentions of blood and being beaten, anxiety, there’s a panic attack, general angst, light fluff towards the end

Word Count: 1.4K

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'The Show' is so amazing, so I might make more based on each song on the album.

“Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future.” John F Kennedy.

Spencer had faced change for his whole life. Between his father leaving him with no explanation when he was a child to his mother’s schizophrenia spiralling, he was the poster child for adapting to the plethora of things that life can throw at you and making the best of things.

Child abandonment coupled with a mother whose illness was worsening, there was a lot of pressure on him at a young age. Spencer wanted to take care of his mother, make sure she was safe and sound. He enjoyed lying with her and reading, spending his time with the woman who he cared for. He struggled with making many friends.

Not a lot of high schoolers want to be friends with a twelve-year-old child prodigy. He was the target of relentless bullying, his safest place being home where he could read in the comfort of his own bedroom.

Most children who had any form of trauma as a child turned out to be psychopaths, incapable of empathy and most who exhibited those symptoms were serial killers, he was quite the opposite. Spencer would say that he turned out alright. 

Three PHDs, being a supervisory special agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, as well as being a literal genius. He had a team of people who loved him dearly, a good amount of godchildren who he adored, as well as a beautiful wife who did so much for him.

When Spencer was imprisoned, his experience killed a piece of him. The once sweet, innocent Dr. Spencer Reid was now a man who was more prone to showing his complex emotions, his temperament changing. He wasn’t nearly as talkative, he was having a harder time processing things that used to take him mere seconds to understand. It was why they had placed him on a weird schedule; every one hundred days spent in the field would have thirty days off following behind. He thought it was the stupidest decision they made.

Despite all of his protests, nobody would hear him out. It brought on the thoughts of him being untrustworthy. After all, he did kill Nadie Ramos. He may have been under the influence of drugs but that didn’t excuse a damn thing. He killed her with his bare hands. 

That haunted him. The fact that he could be capable of madness, capable of murder. It didn’t help that soon after, he was producing a tampered batch of drugs that he was being forced to push within those four cement walls.

Everyone told him that it wasn’t his fault, that some people were pushed to dark acts in order to ensure their survival. After all, a federal agent in the general population sector was a huge target, someone who would have a lot of enemies. Too many enemies.

After his release, there came a plethora of emotions. Y/N was a saint, patient as could be and more loving than he ever could’ve hoped for. Even when he was dissociating into his mind to shield him from all too familiar territory, she was right there. It had gotten to a point where he severely depended on her, the attachment so strong that he would follow her around the house as if he were a kitten who needed constant attention. 

Dinner was hard, the man having to be reminded that he could take his time to eat and he had no risk of someone coming and taking it whether he allowed them to or not. There were nights where he wouldn’t take a packet of cookies from his wife, stressing over having to ‘pay her back’. It took a lot to break him out of that routine.

Don’t get him started on the nightmares. They were vivid, placing him back to the night when he was beaten in prison or to the day where Luis Delgado had his throat slit in front of him because of his own choices. It was like he could still feel the warmth of the crimson blood staining his hands in the failed attempt to stop the bleeding. 

In addition to nightmares that were filled with blood and violence, there was another recurring nightmare. One that killed him more than any sort of guilt of association ever could. It started out the same way every time, he would come in the house after a long winded case. There would be a lot of stress on his shoulders, a tightening in his chest because of the fact the case didn’t end the way the team had anticipated. He would then walk into the kitchen, where Y/N would be waiting for him. There was no sweet greeting, no kiss against his lips while she hugged him and cried about missing him. 

Instead there was a tense silence, the usually warm apartment freezing. She would turn to him, her eyes filled with exhaustion, no glimmer of love shining over them as they faced one another.

“I can’t do this anymore. You aren’t who you used to be, this time by myself has made me realize that I am much happier without you here. I don’t have to coddle you, treat you like a baby. I just can’t bring myself to love you anymore.” 

Spencer was waking up in a cold sweat, his body jolting upwards on the mattress while his other hand was quickly, yet cautiously reaching beside him to feel his wife’s shoulder. The touch had Y/N stirring awake, a gentle frown on her face. “Spencer?” Her voice was filled with drowsiness, her hands slowly pushing her to sit up on her knees while her free hand was leaning over to turn on the bedside lamp. 

Any form of annoyance from drowsiness was wiped away when she noticed her husband’s state. His face was drenched in sweat, his chest was heaving from the impending anxiety attack, he was unable to talk as his body trembled. “Shh, hey.” Y/N whispered as she was shuffling closer, pulling back the duvet so she could carefully pull her husband into her arms. 

Her fingers were threading through the messy curls, a weak sigh leaving her lips as she could feel his arms tightly wrap around her torso, practically squeezing the life out of her.

“I’m here. It’s okay, baby, I promise. Luis dream again?” She asked softly, her lips pressing a kiss to the crown of his skull.

“You left.” His voice was hoarse, the tears joining in soaking his face the same way that the sweat had done over the course of the night. “Baby..” Y/N whispered while her fingers were lightly scratching over his scalp, her cheek resting against his head as she was being hugged tightly, as if she would disappear if Spencer let her go. “I’m not going anywhere. You know that.” Her words were dipped in that sweet assurance, her eyes slowly fluttering shut. 

Spencer faced enough people who abandoned him in his life with little to no explanation, she could never be added to that list. He spent three long and gruelling months in a maximum security prison for a murder that he was pushed into doing under the influence of a drug that Cat Adams and Lindsey Vaughn got their hands on. 

This wasn’t like he was a man who snapped and murdered an innocent woman because of deterioration of his sanity. He was absolutely nothing like the men and women he hunted down for his job, she tried to push that every time that she could. “You’re a good man, you know that. I would be a fool to leave you.” She said softly. 

As her body was eventually laying down against the mattress, she couldn’t help but smile once Spencer quickly followed her movements. Her legs were spreading in order to invite him between them, the male laying on top of her as his head was against her chest. “There we go..” She cooed softly, her fingers continuing to comb through the tousled curls. 

With his cheek now smashed against his wife’s chest, he listened to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. 

The drumbeat mixed his wife’s sweet words of assurance and the warmth of her love radiating against him was enough to have Spencer starting to drift off to sleep. 

How did he manage to get so lucky to have a woman who wouldn’t give up on him?