webdollzz · 2 days ago
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Birthday girl ᯓᡣ𐭩
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a/n: in light of my girls birthday…thought i’d write this. @scoobywrites690, happy birthday mama. i hope you had the best day ever (and this makes it that little bit better)
warnings: SEX! BIRFDAY SEXXX. mixes up between rough n soft. oral (f rec), mating press?? ish? multiple orgasms,
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Simon did anything he could to make sure he would be back just in time for your birthday. Sure, being in the military, you didn’t have much — or any at all — control over when you got to go home, but he still tried.
And thankfully, he did manage to.
On the day of your birthday, infact. Best gift ever, right?
You were still out, likely with friends or something along those lines, so it meant he had the house to himself for an unknown amount of time, so he had to do the best with what he can.
He ran to the nearby hobby store, where he knew there would be banners, balloons, all the birthday decorations.
One hand taping banners to the wall, mouth occupied blowing up a balloon and his other hand holding it so it didn’t just fly out his mouth.
He was trying his hardest to get it all done before you came back.
When you entered the house, bag draped over your shoulders, you let out a sigh of relief at finally being able to just collapse and watch a movie until you fell asleep.
You kicked off your shoes, throwing them somewhat towards the direction of the shoe case.
You wished Simon was here, it’d make everything so much easier for you. You understood his job wasn’t necessarily the easiest to get away from, anything but infact, but you could still wish you had your husband with you.
Switching on the lights, a loud gasp ripped from your throat at the sight of a tall, brooding man stood in the middle of your living room.
When you realised it was your tall, brooding man stood in the middle of your living room, with a dorky smile and a balloon is hands — you could swear you wanted to scream.
Wordlessly, you let the bag drop from your shoulders, nose scrunching as tears filled your eyes. You shuffled towards him, falling into his chest head first and wrapping your arms tightly around him.
He reciprocated — of course — his arms going around your waist tightly and practically lifting you off your feet.
“I thought you weren’t going to make it,” You whispered into his chest, sniffling away your tears. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry this year.
“I’d never miss my wife’s birthday.” He kissed the crown of your head, peppering more all over your forehead before reaching your cheek.
“C’mon,” He tugged you away from him, having to begrudgingly separate you two like velcro. “There’s more.”
He pulled you along, walking past all the banners and balloons, being led to the bedroom.
Rose petals led the way, his warm hand enveloping yours; and you gripped him just that little bit tighter.
There was candles lit, the ceiling light off so they were the only thing illuminating the bed, which was covered in various things.
More rose petals, some bath salts, bubbles, a large teddy bear (which won’t fit anywhere in your already cluttered, hoarder house), a few pieces of jewellery, some chocolate and fluffy socks. ‘Cause who doesn’t love fluffy socks?
You sniffled again, looking at all the presents he managed to get you in the maybe four hour span you weren’t home and he was.
“I know s’ not a lot, I didn’t know how long you were going to be.” He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared at what he classes as a sad display.
You grabbed him by the shirt, tugging him down to your level a little, watching his eyes flick away from the bed to you.
“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”
Well, who is he to deny that?
He smiled before his head tilted down the rest of the way down, lips brushing hours before they locked in a kiss. A kiss filled with passion, longing, and need.
It had been so long since you had kissed Simon, that you almost had forgotten the pressure of his kiss entirely.
It started slow, sensual, soft. His hands drifting from your waist to your cheeks, thumb slowly stroking them. Your hands went from his chest to the back of his neck, tugging him closer and deepening the kiss.
The kiss went from slow and sensual to fast and needy, very quickly. He took a step forward, and you backed up until your knees hit the bed; not breaking the kiss.
He went to push you back against the bed, but got interrupted by your little wince of being poked in the back with a bottle of bubble bath.
He grumbled, taking the objects off one by one and putting them on the dresser, walking backing forth and making you laugh at him.
You pushed all the remaining stuff off the bed, hopping onto it and leaning back on your elbows, legs spread invitingly.
He smirked, approaching slowly and moving to kneel between your legs.
“Where do you want me, my love?” He asked, peppering kisses along your cheek before they drifted down to your neck.
You grabbed his wrist, slowly guiding his hand to your jean clad cunt, making a slow smirk form on his lips that you could feel against your skin.
“Can’t say no to the birthday girl, can I?” He practically purred against your skin before his hands fumbled at your jean buttons, tugging them down your thighs before he threw them to the floor.
Upon seeing the already forming wet patch on your panties, he let out a low laugh as his thumb ran over your sensitive clit through your panties.
“So wet already ‘n’ we ain’t even started.” He teased, dripping his head down to begin kissing your neck again.
“Shut up and just fuck me, ‘kay?” You hissed through gritted teeth, hand going to the back of his head to keep him where he is.
He hummed slowly, fingers tugging your panties down your legs and dismissing them else where, pushing your legs open wide before leaning back — getting a nice, long look at you.
“So fuckin’ perfect.” He groaned, hands sliding up your body and going to the hem of your shirt, pulling that off and throwing it, leaving you completely exposed to the cool air of your bedroom.
You shivered, before bucking your hips closer to him to try and find friction, letting a soft — almost pained — whimper leave your lips.
“Please.” Was all it took from you, and he was sliding between your legs until he was led on his chest.
Usually, he’d have you beg way more than that, but since it’s your birthday, he figured you can have it easy just this once.
“M’ getting to it, baby.” He said through his kisses he scattered along your inner thighs, big, strong arms wrapping around them to keep them spread open for him.
“Si..” You cried, head falling back against the pillow as you began getting impatient, hips attempting to shuffle towards him so he’d just fucking get there faster.
But unfortunately, his burly tatted arms kept you from doing such.
He ignored your pleas, continuing his kisses and occasional nibbles as he made his way closer and closer to your wet cunt, watching the way you tried to squirm and the way you clenched around nothing.
Keeping his eyes on you, he flattened his tongue and ran it up the length of your pussy, from your needy hole to your sensitive clit, causing you to let out a harsh gasp and a hand fly to his hair, tugging on it.
He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently and making your noises grow louder and more frequent, pulling him closer and putting your thighs around his head.
“Fuck, Si. Don’t stop.” You cried, heavy breathing and loud moans falling from your pretty lips as two fingers prodded at your entrance, the intrusion making you hiss softly before it heightened your pleasure — the same reaction you always had.
He watched you intently, slowly guiding his fingers in and out of you as his mouth lapped and sucked at your clit, groaning when you’d tug on his hair a little bit harder.
You lifted your head, eyes half lidded as you looked down to see him already staring at you, hips slightly grinding against the mattress below you.
The sight had the knot in your stomach twisting tighter, brows furrowing as your thighs began shaking.
“Si — Simon, m’ gonna cum, m’ gonna cum.” You whisper-chanted at him, and he just continued the same movements, not changing the rhythm of his fingers as they curled inside you, feeling your warm walls flutter as you grew closer and closer.
He pulled away, gently leaning his head on your inner thigh as he stared at you like a love sick puppy, hips humping at the mattress. Like a bitch in heat.
“It’s okay, love. Cum f’me, c’mon.” He cooed, giving you a little nod before his head dipped back down and lapped at you like a man starved.
If it wasn’t for the hot heat of pleasure rushing through your entire body and mind, the wet sound of him pumping his fingers in and out of you, and his mouth sucking at your sensitive cunt would’ve normally felt you embarrassed.
But you were too occupied to be insecure right now.
“Fuck, fuck. M’ cumming, m’ cumming!” You gasped, back arching off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you in harsh and hot waves, a long drawn out moan leaving your throat.
He nearly came in his boxers from the sight of you cumming alone, his eyes fluttering gently as they never strayed away from you.
Your body finally relaxed against the bed and his movements slowed to a stop, before he pulled away and kissed your pussy, then your stomach, chest, neck, jaw, and finally: lips.
You sighed softly at the taste of yourself against his tongue as he kissed you, his hands going to his trousers to pull at them until they were off him and on the floor instead — boxers following suit rather quickly.
Using your slick left on his fingers, he jerked himself off just a little before lining himself up with your entrance, breaking the kiss to watch.
His large hands hooked underneath your weak, trembling thighs, pushing them to your chest as you let out another sigh, head falling back and eyes closing as you felt his tip nudging against your clit.
He pushed himself in slowly, both of you letting out a low moan as he did so, sliding in with ease until he was buried to the hilt, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he forced himself to not cum.
He wanted at least one more out of you before he did.
“Move — please, move. I need it.” You coaxed him, hands fumbling with the bottom sheets as you tried to push yourself into him further.
“Mhm, I am, I am.” He whispered softly, voice comforting as he hooked your legs over his shoulders, ankles now dangling by his head.
His arm wrapped around your thighs, forcing them flat against his front as his other arm was supporting his body weight so he didn’t completely crush you.
He began slowly thrusting into you, easing you in as he was on deployment for a while and he knows your stupid toys don’t do it like he does.
He watched where you were connected, admiring the way your cunt so eagerly took him and swallowed him whole, triggering him to let out a low growl and begin increasing the intensity of his thrusts.
You mewled; hands clawing at whatever skin of his was available, incoherent babbles of whatever he can assume is his name falling from your lips along with loud moans.
He leant down, bringing some of his large weight down against you as he pounded your cunt like he wouldn’t be able to again, wrapping your legs around his waist so he could watch your pretty face contort in pleasure.
He reached his hand out to hold your cheek, leaning down to kiss you gently, contrasting his harsh and fast thrusts.
He felt your cunt flutter around him once more, and he smiled against your lips before pulling back, tucking hair behind your ear.
“You gonna cum again, sweetheart?” He asked you, watching the way your head nodded quickly and your hands reached out to paw at his chest.
“Mhm, mh— m’ gonna cum, fuck. I missed you, missed you so much.” You cried, tears welling up in your eyes as the ache in your lower abdomen grew and grew at a quick pace; jaw falling and lips forming a little o.
He smirked, holding your face and admiring you like he wasn’t ruining your pretty little pussy.
“I know, I know. I missed y’too, baby. Cum f’me, c’mon. Show me how much you missed me.” He groaned, feeling his own orgasm threaten to hit him at any second, and he just had to hope you came first.
And you did.
You let out a loud cry, mixed with a gasp as your legs locked around his waist. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, back arching so much that you were hardly even led on the bed anymore.
He felt your orgasm coat his entire cock, triggering his own as his thrusts grew sloppier, before he completely buried himself as far into your cunt he could and filled you up until you were practically dripping.
You both came down from your highs, panting heavily as he collapsed (but left his weight off you mainly) ontop of you, burying his face into your neck.
Your eyes closed briefly, before they snapped open at the feeling of his thrusts beginning again.
Looking at your face, he let out a low laugh.
“What, did you think your gift was over?”
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irisbaggins · 9 hours ago
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Because I'm procrastinating on writing about the history of RPGs, I'm going to actually do a little analysis on that "accidental mind control" scene. Specifically, I want to look at it critically as a text and not as a bit. Why? Well, because I can, but also because it's a really interesting moment that somehow actually fits wonderfully into the narrative.
When it comes to who got mind controlled by Sam, it was just Evan and Jammer that got hit with it, whereas K managed to dodge it fully. And here's why that's so interesting to me, narratively; K is the only one of the three hit by the spell who has refused to let go of their burden. Whilst K has had it pointed out to them that they cannot do everything by themselves, they have still refused so see that possibility. They still end up taking things on by themselves, which has only been further proven by their experience in the hospital. Yes, it was fun for them to live in a fantasy for a moment, but isn't it very interesting that K chose to be a doctor and to specialise in the field they had earlier horrifically failed? Yes, it was partially a gag by Erika, but goddamn does it not fit K's character. In a world where K can be a saviour, a healer, a fixer, they decided to be specialised in a field in which their previous mistake had cost them their friend's life. Erika is excellent when it comes to subtle character traits and flaws peeking through, and this "gag" is proof of that; K feels an incredible amount of guilt, but they try to handwave it off when it's brought into the light - "Just messing around in a hot tub!" - because they cannot process their failure. Because if they failed, then what is their point? If they cannot help people, then what are they even doing?
A thing that will never leave my thoughts when it comes to K, is how we were first introduced to them; with Erika describing K as being "chronically online", fighting with people on social media and engaging in social justice. And I have no idea about you all, but I remember being very much the same as a teenager. Of thinking that every problem in the world was mine to shoulder, and thus piling on issues that were never mine to hold. I see the same happening with K, but K hasn't let that mentality go. They have only gotten worse. They have an Atlas Complex: they take the whole world on their shoulders, convinced that they alone can save it. They cannot let go of that desire to help, that desire to fix, that need for control. They were always like this, since the moment we first saw them; they just channelled that into the rest of the Misfits during the events of the first season.
But in this season? They've been alone for a while, with only Teddy for company and as a voice of reason. K has spiralled into thinking only they can save magic, and it's causing fractures that we - the audience - are only just starting to see the consequences of. Their attempt of healing Evan - which I discussed here - was a natural progression of their guilt at what happened to Magic and the Magic World, as well as their guilt for Evan and themself splitting up where the former clearly got into a lot of trouble without them. K falling into the fantasy of the hospital was them, for a moment, experiencing success, instead of the ever-present guilt that is their current adventure. K could exist within that world, not because they let up on their need for control, but because they embraced the need for control in a world that was familiar and predictable.
Which then leads into Sam's incredible feat of magic, and K's ability to sidestep being controlled. Whilst yes, it was the roll of the dice that decided their fate, I also think any other option would have maybe been less impactful: both Evan and Jammer have begun to realise they can depend on others and let go of their need to control everything, but K hasn't yet. K has begun to admit that it is a problem, but has yet to admit that it is something they must change. That they should not be carrying this burden for themselves. They started to open up to Jammer, but they still have not talked about Itsy and what their work truly entailed. They're still hiding some parts of themself, not allowing others to help with their problems. They don't know how to let others in - at least, not anymore - and so they end up refusing to let up control. They cannot give themselves in to Sam's spell, because they have to solve everything on their own. They're slowly opening up to letting others help, though; Sam was not only able to get K out of the hospital, but K also included Sam in their plan to find the source of the amplification magic. They're just not completely ready to surrender fully to letting others help. Not yet.
But hopefully, soon.
Anyway. This episode was so fun, and I loved the look into everybody's character as they were faced with the challenges of The Trope Hospital. I can't help but want to dig my teeth into what all of these islands brings out of the characters, and how the narrative unfolds. I could go on and on about Aabria's worldbuilding, and about the cast and how they play their characters. Just. Ugh. Misfits is so good, y'all.
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tracle0 · 2 years ago
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!!!writing!!!
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moonstruckme · 13 days ago
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Heyyy! So I'm obsessed with your writing! Your EMT series might be my favourite thing I've ever read.
I was wondering if I could request an EMT Marauders x reader story where she gets really sick but thinks it's nothing and downplays it to them, only for it to end up being Pneumonia or something. And maybe they feel guilty for not realising it sooner?
I know you've probably already written something similar to this so no worries if you don't feel like writing it but I'd love to see your take it if you decide. Hurt/comfort is my favourite trope in the world. I just can't get enough of it!
I hope you're doing well!
Thanks gorgeous, hope you're doing well too <3
cw: pneumonia
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words
You make sure there’s plenty of honey in your tea when the boys get home. 
“Hi,” you greet them, pleased when your voice comes out semi-normal. 
“Hey, gorgeous.” Sirius flops onto the sofa, nearly on top of your curled-up legs. “How was your day?” 
You try to keep your answer brief, your cough plied into submission with honey and warm tea but not for long. “Good. Got some things done.” 
You don’t mention that after every one of those things you’d had to have a thirty-minute lie down, or that many of them involved disinfecting surfaces you’d accidentally coughed near. 
“Being sick isn’t an opportunity to get things done.” Remus sinks into his chair, leveling you with a reprimanding look. “You’re supposed to be resting.” 
You shrug. “The only reason I haven’t been at work is because—” A couple of coughs fight their way out of you. James’ expression pinches as he sits on the arm of Remus’ chair, but thankfully the fit passes quickly. You take another sip of your tea. “Because I don’t want to pass it to anyone. I think I have to go back tomorrow, though.” 
Sirius makes a soft tsking sound. The boys are all still in uniform, his tattoos peeking out from the short sleeves as he traces looping circles on the side of your knee. “But you’re not better yet.” 
“Yeah, but I’m running out of sick days.” 
James frowns. “How long has it been?” 
You bring your tea to your lips, avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’ve been out for a week.” 
“But you were sick for a while before that,” he says. “What is that, ten days? Eleven?”
You shrug. 
Sirius is looking up at you with a puckered brow. “Do you feel like you’re getting better?” 
“I think so,” you say optimistically. It’s quickly undermined, however, when you’re caught up in another coughing fit. You have to set your tea down to keep from spilling it, holding a tissue over your mouth. 
James’ eyes widen, and Sirius sits up to rub your back. 
“That doesn’t sound very good,” James says. 
“No,” Sirius agrees. He reaches to feel your face, but you brush him away. 
“Don’t-—ack—don’t get too close. I don’t want to get you sick.” 
“I’m not gonna get sick, you baby.” He pushes past your hands. “Let me do my job.” 
“You just got off work.” 
“Yeah, well,” his voice softens, taking on a sympathetic hum as he lays his palm flat to your hairline, “maybe I maybe I was talking about my boyfriend job.” A pause. “I think your fever’s gotten worse, my love.” 
You whine. “Really?” 
“‘Fraid so. Have you noticed your symptoms getting worse at all?”
“I don’t” —you cough and reach for your tea again— “think so.” 
“Dove,” Remus says warningly. 
“It’s hard to tell,” you admit. “It’s moved around.” 
“Like where, honey?” James asks. 
“Like, in my…” You feel your throat contract, another fit brewing. You touch a hand to your sternum to avoid speaking. 
“In your chest?” Remus infers. 
You nod. 
He hums and moves to sit on the coffee table, his knees touching yours. You try to warn him away, but Remus shushes you gently. “Let me look at you.” 
He brings one hand to your face, feeling the way Sirius had, and touches the other to the pulse point on your neck. His touch is gentle and cool against your warm skin. You don’t know what exactly he’s looking for, but you find yourself fighting the urge to fall asleep in the basin of his palm when it slips down to hold your cheek. 
“You don’t need to talk,” says James, “but just nod yes or no, okay? Have you noticed yourself feeling more tired lately?” 
You nod tentatively. 
“Yeah? Less appetite?” 
You frown. “I don’t think—” You’re cut off by your own hacking. 
“One week off work, and she completely forgets how to follow instructions,” Sirius teases, rubbing your leg. 
“Terrible patient,” James agrees. 
“Alright,” Remus says once your fit ebbs. “I don’t have a stethoscope, but can you turn sideways for me?” 
You do, confused. Remus puts his ear to your back. You must make an odd face, because Sirius grins at you, reaching over to pinch your chin affectionately. 
“Take a deep breath,” Remus instructs. 
You try, but it doesn’t get far. Your lungs expand maybe halfway before you’re coughing again, horrible, wracking coughs punctuated by stabbing pains in your chest. Remus sits up after a few moments, rubbing your back. 
“Sorry,” you manage. 
“Why are you sorry?” Sirius pulls you into him, cradling your head to his chest. “That sounded like it hurt, huh?” 
“Yeah,” Remus answers for you, brows bent with sympathy. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. At least now we can get you some medicine, though.” 
You cough weakly. “You can?” 
“Sounds like pneumonia?” James asks Remus. Your boyfriend nods. 
Sirius coos, petting your head. “I’m sorry, baby. I was thinking it was just a cold.” 
“It’s not your fault,” you croak. “I was, too.” 
“Feels like we ought to have known the difference, though,” James admits. When Sirius gets up, he’s quick to take his spot, tucking you underneath an arm. 
“Where are you going?” you ask Sirius. 
He’s putting his shoes back on. “To get someone to write you a prescription. The sooner we get you on antibiotics, the better. It’ll give you something to show your boss, too.” 
“I don’t need to come with you?” you ask hopefully. 
He winks, grabbing his keys. “Perks of knowing people at the hospital.” 
“Perks of flirting with the doctors, he means,” Remus mutters after he’s gone. 
“Hey,” James laughs, giving his boyfriend’s knee a playful squeeze, “it works out for us, doesn’t it?” 
“Sometimes,” Remus allows. He fixes his gaze on you. “Anything we can do to help you feel better, sweetheart? Do you want to try a hot bath? Steam would be good for you.” 
You look down into your now cool mug. “Could I have some more tea?” 
He takes it from you with a kiss to your head. “What a silly question.”
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minhosimthings · 5 months ago
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Lucifer|| Prolouge
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Synopsis: After you found your husband cheating on you, you found a different kind of comfort in his devilishly handsome colleagues.
Pairings: detective 02z × fem!reader
Warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive, minors please do not interact, catcalling, mention of alcohol, reader is cheated on by Heeseung, cheating (which I do not condone in real life)
A/N: Prologue for my 02z short series everyone! I abandoned everything else after Enha dropped Memorabilia just to write this BECAUSE I CAN. I will try to put out the oneshots as early as possible and I hope all of you will enjoy it! Au revoir!
Taglist: Open
Series Masterlist
Crystalline tears filled your eyes as you walked under the dark azure sky. Your feet ached, your heart thumped hard against its prison and your mind spun and yet you kept walking. Walking somewhere, you didn't even bother to understand.
Adjusting your skirt, and moving your scarf down to reveal your bloodied lips from having bitten them too much, you tried to recall what had happened today that made you so miserable. Was it the broken coffee machine, or was it the recent murders in the newspaper? Or was it a person? Perhaps it was the latter.
Heeseung.
You loved Lee Heeseung. With all of your soul and all of your heart you loved him all the way through the bright Mays and the chilly Decembers. You loved him in a way only the setting sun could love the ocean, the way its rays danced with the water so gracefully.
And yet you caught him in your own bedroom, strong sinews of muscles handling another girl's lusty bones, as she merged her body with someone you thought belonged to you.
His apologies went deaf to your ears, you spent an hour or so packing up all your things and driving out the house without a second thought. You didn't even realise how much time you spent screaming your head off at him, trying hard to stop your tears from escaping their barrier as you shoved each and every gift he ever gave you into his arms and asked him to burn them to the ground. And yet you didn't know how to cope without them either.
Your mother never taught you how to handle grief without alcohol and your father's blood always seeped through your mouth in words of fire and fury everytime something went wrong. It was no wonder you had found comfort in Heeseung, a man who could handle all of your pain and all of your anger.
You had trusted him with your life, marrying him happily to escape your childhood home and entrusting in him your most beloved secrets, your love and dedication and your virginity as well. You thought that had been enough, staying home whilst Heeseung worked his ass off at the police station to provide you with everything you could ask for and more.
And when he came home, you were his toy, a plaything for him to release his stress on and yet you didn't budge. Why should you? When you were recieving all the pleasure you could ever want and giving all the pleasure back to your husband. Nevertheless, you stared at your empty ring finger now, hands shivering in the cold as you scolded yourself on not wearing mittens. Heeseung used to scold you too.
Lee Heeseung. What would you have done to absolutely irradicate Lee Heeseung?
You had parked your car at the nearby park where you knew it'd be safe, and had gone for a walk. Thoughts rushed to your mind. You had known about Heeseung's affair for some time now, but you wanted to catch him in the act, to prove to the world, to yourself, that your melancholic delusion could be justified. Here you were now, dragging your feet across the cemented pavement, knowing there's only one other place you could go to. The darkness was a bad place for a woman to be, at 10 pm but you didn't give a single fuck about anything as your prosaic body tried to get itself up. You swore you could have heard voices behind you.
"Hey, hey you!" You heard a voice shout behind you, "What's a pretty lady doin' in a place like this?"
You gulped in fear as your feet sped up. Stupid stupid girl, you thought to yourself, should have stayed in the goddamned car!
"Hey you ignorin' me?" The voice shouted again, and you could hear the gruff footsteps which followed you, getting closer by the moment, "Stop fucking runnin' away from me!"
Your heart pumped blood faster as you picked up your skirt and ran, at the fastest speed you could. This wouldn't have happened if Heeseung was here!, you thought, and though a part of your brain tried to scold you about still thinking about him, at the moment all you were focused on was getting somewhere safe.
The man's drunken voice could still be hear by your ears, and his harsh footsteps told you he was running behind you, chasing you as if you were a wild mongrel to be caught and leashed.
Only one place. Only one place you could go now.
Turning swift on your feet, you ran down the wide lane filled with shops on one side and the empty road on the other, being careful not to crash into the glowing streetlights, as your destination came into your visage.
The police station. Where you knew, your last hope would be standing.
|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|
"Got the Samson case solved yet?" Sunghoon yawned and stretched his limbs above his head, like a prosaic cat, "Man I could do with a drink right now."
"It's 10 pm." Jake checked his pocketwatch, running his hand through his hair as he always did, "What bar is going to be open at this time?"
"Hey, should we steal Jay's stash?" Sunghoon glanced, with mischievous eyes at Jake, who mirrored an equally mischief filled smile back.
"Don't even think about touching my bourbon." A dark haired man, with eyes as black as kohl, walked in, equally black gloves decorating his hands, "Unless you want to be stuck on traffic duty all week."
"Who pissed in your cereal today?" Sunghoon snickered, leaning back in his chair, a crack of his bone could be heard as he lazily stretched, "Let me guess, Heeseung?"
"Is it about his wife again?" Jake groaned, hair tangled in his hand again, "Jay, just leave it man, they'll sort it out."
"Sort it out?" Jay looked at the long haired man with a quizzical look, "What kind of a man cheats on a beautiful woman and brags about it?"
"Most of them." Sunghoon broke out into his drawer, hands reaching for a eloquent wooden pipe, which he lit and transferred to his mouth, sighing out the smoke as he relaxed into his chair, "You're too righteous to understand that, Jongsoeng."
Jay wrinkled his nose, as Sunghoon blew a puff of cigarette smoke into the air. Settling into his own chair, Jay's eyes flickered towards Heeseung's desk, where files lay messily scattered. A solitary photo frame brightened up the lonely atmosphere of the desk. Lee Y/N, Jay thought, his wife, not yours.
"Jay, come on, stop sulking over your little crush," Jake scoffed, his hands busy with a sleek, brownish-yellow bottle in his hand, "Just have a drink and get your mind off it."
"First of all, how did you get into my bourbon cabinet." Jay snatched the glass from Jake's hand, and toyed with it protectively, "Second of all, I can't just get my mind of it. I mean, come on," He extended his glass out to Jake who poured the elysian liquid into Jay's glass, "Who the fuck would have the gall to cheat on such a pretty woman who loves him to bits?"
"Look, you like her right? And don't say no, we all know it Jongsoeng." Sunghoon leaned forward in his chair, "So when she finds out about everything, just offer to take her home and, you know, let her sob into your arms and then take her into your bedroom and-"
"Since when did you start reading romance?" Jake chuckled, pressing a glass of bourbon to his lips.
"Since lover boy here started crushing on..what's her name? Y/N wasn't it?" Sunghoon laughed, taking another piquant drag of his pipe, "I get it, she is really pretty."
'Really pretty' was one way to describe you, Jay thought, smiling into his glass of bourbon. Every inch of you called out to him, beckoned him closer and closer to your poisonous radius. It wasn't that he didn't try to fight it, lusting after another's wife, but it was that he found that hidden sadness in your eyes heartbreaking everytime he looked into them.
"Want to head home, fellas?" Jake briskly sat up straight in his chair, "Or are either of you going to stop at a brothel?"
"Don't have time for that." Sunghoon chuckled darkly, putting out his pipe, "Plus I've got a-"
Bang!
The door of the quite airy police station burst open with a loud bang, and it seemed as if a hurricane in the guise of a panicked woman had swept in, alarming the three detectives. The sudden action caused them to act on their reflexes, pulling out their revolvers faster than their eyes could comprehend the sight in fron them. Jake's eyes seemed to work the quickest.
"Ma'am? Are you alright?" Jake called out, signalling the other two to lower their weapons. He stepped forward and turned a switch on, which caused the entire room to light up in bright light, contrasting to the soft yellow light that earlier shone from the desk lamps.
Jay's senses had seemed to ding up after the initial shock of the entire thing, as he walked forward with careful steps towards you, as Jake and Sunghoon whispered to each other, making out why you were here. Your eyes took a moment to register the man in front of you.
Jay Park, you thought, a man who was perfection incarnated.
"Y/N," Jay spoke softly, careful not to frighten you, "What are you doing here? Are you alright?" He looked you up and down to check for any disfigurements.
"I-" you spoke, your throat tightening by the moment, "Heeseung—he" you couldn't speak any more as his name uttered out your mouth. Bursting into tears, you buried your face in your hands as you felt your cheeks burn up with embarrassment. You really weren't crying in front of your (ex) husband's colleagues, men who you barely knew, apart from the usual condolences.
You felt warm, strong muscles pull you into their hold. It felt like a cozy cocoon, scented with the fragrance of pine and paper.
"Calm down, doll," Jay whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck, "take a breath for me."
Jay coached you through breathing in and out, which restored some of your consciousness. You had nearly been on the verge of fainting, with how much you had ran.
"Can I—May I sit down for a moment?" You asked, weary of the other two men's eyes watching you, "Please."
"Of course." Jay said, supporting your figure with his sinews as he led you over to his cubicle. You could see the other two hastily clearing out messy piles of papers. The shorter one, you assumed was Jake, from his drooped posture and lion-like hair. The taller one then, had to be Sunghoon, with porcelain skin and an ice cold gaze.
"Did-did you walk all the way from your house?" Jake questioned, offering you a seat, which you gratefully collapsed into.
"No, just the park nearby." You shot him a small smile through your croaky voice, which he returned, "My car's still parked there though. I drove from" you stopped in your words uncertain to say his name, "-from Heeseung's house."
You felt the tension in the room as you said those words. Heeseung's house, you thought, it had been home once. You felt Jay shift his position in the chair next to you, and Sunghoon transfer his weight to one foot, whilst leaning on the desk.
"If you want us to go beat him up, we'll gladly do it." Sunghoon offered, making you chuckle and shake your head.
"No it's fine, I mean she wasn't that pretty anyway, he's bound to lose interest in her some day or the other." You smiled, to no one but yourself. Humour had never been your strong suit.
"Aww man I really wanted to beat him up." Sunghoon feigned defeat, "Asshole deserves it for how much paperwork he gave me."
"That's the only reason you want to beat him up?" You raised a brow at the light skinned man, who raised one back.
"And for betraying a pretty lady of course." He winked at you, making you internally roll your eyes.
"Would-would you like some bourbon?" Jake awkwardly offered you a glass. You could see the embarrassment in his eyes the moment he asked the question, "Or water if you want-"
"I'll take the bourbon." You grabbed the glass from Jake, who, with his shocked eyes poured you a glass, which you downed immediately without flinching in front of the three startled detectives, "Can I have another?"
"Can we have some too?" Sunghoon smirked at you, grabbing his own glass and beckoning Jake to pour him a shot. Jay, admitting defeat, had grabbed a glass too, filled with the bubbly alcohol.
"Well," Sunghoon raised his glass in a toast, "to Heeseung hopefully getting bored of the other woman."
"Peculiar toast, Detective Park." You laughed, "I like it."
The moments that followed still felt like a fever dream to you. You had sat in a building, alone with three handsome men, talking down right shit about your husband, whilst drinking more bourbon than you ever had and although you had already defeated Jake in drinking (almost) half a pint, you still wanted more. This definetly was not on your itinerary for the evening, but did you care at this point? Absolutely not.
"Ugh fuck." You swore under your breath. You probably shouldn't have drank that much, but in all honestly, it would have helped to relieve some of the painful memories of the night.
"Woah steady there." Jay looked at you cautiously as you stirred in your chair. Jake was on the verge of passing out, having even taking his glasses off, while Sunghoon and Jay, who hadn't drank as much, looked as calm as the winds.
"You know what?" You started, not knowing the words coming out of your drunken mouth anymore, "Fuck Lee Heeseung, fuck that man." A sudden maniacal giggle from your mouth seemed to have amused Sunghoon.
"Fuck in what terms, Mrs Lee?" He asked, trying to hide his cunning smirk, whilst ignoring Jay's warning glares.
"Mrs Lee?" You questioned, feeling your senses come back, though you were still tipsy, "Who's Mrs Lee? Not me, no sir-ee." You laughed, "If I had the chance to chop off that asshole's dick right now, I would."
"But you wouldn't allow us to beat him up? Strange." Sunghoon whistled out in his usual cocky tone.
"It's getting late." Jay checked the grand clock in the corner of the room, his eyes wavered over the dried tears on your face, it was alarming to him how much a mere glass of bourbon had managed to get you giggling like a cuckoo, "Y/N I can drop you-"
"I'd rather fuck all of you in one night rather than see that idiot's face again." You chuckled again, this time, saying the sentence with full seriousness. Did you really mean it?, perhaps not, as you would have thought later on. But were you up for having sex with three extremely attractive men who happened to be the best friends of your ex-husband? That, was a definite yes.
"Oh really?" Sunghoon placed his forearms on the desk in front of him, leaning in closer to your face. Jay's hand clutched harder against the edge of the desk. "And what if I say yes to that proposal?"
"What are you implying, Detective Park?" You looked into his dark, devilish eyes, "That you'd have sex with someone pathetic enough to get cheated on?"
"Don't say that, you're not pathetic." Jay's eyes softened as he looked at you, but you merely scoffed, turning your face instead to look at Sunghoon, who was evidently smirking. You caught Jake's widened eyes from the corner of your eye, listening intently.
"How about this-" Sunghoon started, folding his arms, "You get a night of good sex, I get a night of good sex, you and I both get to rub that in Heeseung's face, and then we have breakfast in France."
"Are you married Detective Park?" You quizzed him with an amused face, his offer seemed at the very least, interesting to you.
"Not yet, no. I'm still young aren't I?", Sunghoon's mouth stretched like a cat's into a lazy smile, "Why do you ask? Are you....perhaps intrigued by my offer?"
There was something ironic about that sentence "I'm still young" that struck a chord within you, you were the same age as him and yet you were sitting there talking about your husband.
"Intrigued is one way to put it." You smiled back, hoping you looked anything like a vixen, matching the bastardous fox like energy of Sunghoon's, "But don't you think it's greedy of you, Detective Park? To want me all to yourself?"
"And what do you mean by that, Miss Y/N?" Jake smiled in his boyish manner, "Is Sunghoon here not enough for you?"
"I'm just saying." You held up your hands in mock defence, "wouldn't you both like to get a taste too?"
You glanced at Jay in the corner, who you had expected to be shaking his head in disapproval. But to your utter surprise, he had one of his gloves hands stroking his chin as if in deep thought. His eyes were dark even in the fluorescent light of the room, deep pools of cataclysmic waters floating around in his pupils. He looked vaguely interested.
"So just to recap," Jake started, clearing his throat, such that his Adam's apple was clearly visible, "You want us to bed you, so as to make your ex husband, our colleague and friend, someone's whose wife we definetly should not be sleeping with, jealous?"
"That's the blueprint." You said in a sweet honeyed voice, "How exactly you make him know that I'm not his anymore, you figure that out. If I even so as look at that man's face again, I will jump off a cliff."
"But the question is-" you put on a proud smile, eyes darting from one man to the next, "Who's going first?"
"Shouldn't you decide that sweetheart?" Jay's deep voice came like a rumble through the ground during an earthquake, slightly startling you. He hadn't said anything in the past few minutes, his sudden break of silence alarmed you.
"Alright then." You chuckled, not daring to meet Jay's eyes, you knew you'd melt as soon as you saw them, "How about the person who suggested this?" You turned your face towards a smirking Sunghoon, with his head held high like a peacock's, "Detective Park?"
"Shall I go with the lady's word boys?" Sunghoon asked Jake, who nodded his head, taking his glasses off the desk and outting them on again. The effect it had in him was quite handsome, according to you.
"Should we make a pact then?" Jake asked cheekily, glancing around for a piece of paper, finally picking one up from underneath the mountain of files lying on the wisened wood. Putting it down on the paper, he scribbled something down quickly, showing it off proudly to the others. You let out a laugh when you saw what he wrote.
"'The make Heeseung jealous organisation'?" You laughed, "I can't tell if you're serious or not."
"I'm dead serious." Jake looked at you with glossy eyes, he always was a funny one, you recalled, "Come on everyone, I need signatures."
He's serious about this, you thought, amused at Jake's comedic demeanor. You swiftly pressed the black ink to the paper, leaving off a flashy signature to decorate it. Jay signed off last, with an impeccable font.
Words couldn't have described that very evening. No sentence that could come out of your mouth could have ever even begun to explain to a complete stranger about how you had ended up in Sunghoon's car, driving to his house in silence. Shrugging off the moral doubts in the corner of your brain, you stared out the window into a dewy night.
Relax, you thought to yourself, there wasn't anything wrong with what you were doing.
Was there?
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gay-dorito-dust · 1 month ago
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Hi 🙂 could you write a fic about Agatha and Rio both taking an interest in reader and competing for their attention. Who they end up with up to you. Xxx
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I got issues w/ wanda stans which ultimately make me hate the character (I don’t want to but you freaks force my hand) by osmosis and I’ll just block you out cuz it’s honestly pathetic to listen to you speak.
You were cute, they both had to admit it, adorable even if they were kind enough to admit aloud. So congrats on being the object of desire of two very powerful and beautiful women. I’m jealous.
Neither Rio nor Agatha were exactly delighted to know that the other was also thriving for your affection and attention. Not. One.bit. They didn’t want to take civil either when it came to you and would boast rather loudly and confidently about how your heart was already taken as their possession.
‘You don’t have a heart to give, so why would you ever delude yourself to the idea that y/n would ever give you theirs on their own terms?’ Agatha said as Rio smirked and shrugged.
‘I do have a heart, it’s black and it beats for them as theirs does for mine, I just have to make them see that even if it means removing you from the picture.’ Rio replied but it only proved to make Agatha cackle as though she was told something funny rather than threatened. She’s had that be the case for a long, long time on multiple different accounts.
‘That’s cute but they were mine from the moment I stepped into Westview during Wanda’s…attempt to play house and acting as their wife,’ Agatha sighs. ‘Let’s just say I was given tastes of them which were sweeter than nectar.’ She smirks when she seeks the smirk on Rio’s lip was wiped off, replaced by a scowl as a perfect visual of jealously and anger overcame the face green witch.
‘Well we’re not in THAT Westview anymore my dearest Agatha,’ Rio began, ‘those memories you may try to hold over my head are long forgotten by them, besides it’s time they moved on with someone with more…potential.’ It was Agatha’s time to look annoyed and angry at Rio as she waves her hand. ‘Bye bye Aggie, we’ll be sure to send the marriage invite.’ She adds sarcastically before leaving.
Agatha, alone in the house she was trapped in for the past three or more years, took a deep breath to compose herself. If Rio wanted you, she’s going have to go through her first, after all you were hers first even if it was under the hex. You were always going to be hers before you were anyone else’s.
Agatha would try to woo you by doing things you supposedly liked during the hex, but once she realises that wasn’t the case anymore and the you in the hex was a charachuer of who you were. She knew that she had some actual work to do in order to win your heart before the black hearted Rio did.
She’d even console in Senior Scratch from time to time, tucking the rabbit in her arms and under her chin as she schemes about how she’s going to swoon you over to her.
‘Flowers did the charm once but it doesn’t exactly scream ‘ don’t make me the other woman in this relationship’ or ‘you chose me once, do that again because it’s the only correct answer.’ Agatha raised the rabbit to her eyes. ‘what do you think? Yay or nah.’
Senior scratch twitched his nose and flicked his ear.
‘You’re right, after Wanda traumatised this town, I doubt it’ll be easy getting to y/n anymore as it is getting a needle out of a haystack, but I’m not going to give them over to her.’ Agatha spat as he mind went to Rio earlier this morning, whispering rather flirty and somewhat vulgar things when told to someone with a particularly filthy mind, into your ear and smiling when you looked at her with wide eyes and a flustered face.
‘You know where to find me sweetheart, so don’t be shy.’ Rio then said as she locked eyes with Agatha as she kissed your cheek, leaving a perfect dark imprint of her lips there for anyone to see.
Rio on the other hand wasn’t afraid to saunter up to you and openly flirt with you while keeping her composure. It came to her as easily as breathing, and besides your reactions always made her smile in accomplishment, so she keeps doing it while handing you a special black rose that she conjured up just for you.
‘What’s this?’you asked.
‘A rose of course.’ Rio replied.
‘I know that but,’ you look from the flower to Rio, ‘what’s the occasion?’
Rio smiled as she walked up close to you, placing her hand over your own as she made you both squeeze the stem of the thornless rose. ‘No occasion, can I not be allowed to gift you something that will never wilt, never die, never look less perfect than the day I plucked it for you.’ Rio answered as she looked deeply into your eyes.
You smiled. ‘Thanks Rio, I promise to treasure it along with the lavenders that Agatha got me.’
Rio’s jaw twitched at the mention of the other witches name but didn’t let her annoyance be shown to you as she smiled tightly. ‘You take gifts from other women now? I’m hurt.’ You chuckled as you rested your hand on her shoulder, cussing a flicker of warmth to flow through her briefly.
‘I didn’t take Rio Vidal to be the jealous type.’ You joked, ‘besides it’s not like I can reject Agatha’s gifts, she can be very convincing.’ You add as Rio internally seethed.
‘Yes, very convincing.’ She chocked out through gritted teeth. Agatha was more of a pain in her ass than she originally thought.
‘Anyways I’ve got to go, Agatha invited me to her house for tea and snacks this afternoon but I’ll see you tomorrow for that abandoned botanical garden you told me about, see you later Rio.’ You bided the green with goodbye as you clutched the black rose to your chest as it emanated a brief green glow.
‘You think you’re winning this fight Agatha, but the wars only just begun.’ Rio spat as she watched Agatha welcome you with open arms, holding you close as she looks at Rio with a look of accomplishment.
‘Come on in dear, I have your favourites ready on the table. Senior Scratch has been missing you as of late.’ Agatha cooed as she booped you on the nose, her hand now sliding to your waist as she guides you into her home that felt familiar and smelled like lavender to ease you into a sense of comfort and warmth.
Who you end up with is up to you. (I’d want both but I’m a sucker for Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza)
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k-hotchoisan · 6 months ago
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Hii Sunshine hope you doing well 🫶🏻💗If it’s convenient, can you write one where San is a black cat hybrid, in heat and needy but he is afraid to hurt y/n [my size kink is kicking in] but eventually he gets her ✨help✨??
pretty kitty 🐾
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<san x fem!reader>
San is the prettiest kitty—even when he’s doing his best to hold back during his heat cycle when all he wants to do is to breed you over and over.
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Genres/warnings: smut, pwp, kitty!san is in heat and he’s whiny 😫, size kink, breeding, cream pie, orgasms after orgasms, san just cannot get enough, oral (M receive), soft dom!san, biting, reader and san call each other kitty!
A/N: I’m back?????? and doing this as a little warm-up 😔 life has been overwhelming and my mental health has not been mental healthing unfortunately. I’m presenting this as my apology,, I hope everyone is doing well, and thank you for being patient with me, always <3
Word count: 2.8K
Tag list: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify
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Something is up with Choi San. Your hybrid feline partner has been exhibiting strange behaviours for the past week or so, at least, from what you noticed. Initially, it started with him snuggling against you, which was quite the common behaviour of him, but then you swore you heard him whimper softly from time to time. Then it escalated to him latching his blunt feline teeth against your skin, nibbling and licking you sometimes, leaving marks on your skin in his wake. It would have seemed like his usual behaviour, that is, until he suddenly started pulling away so suddenly, and he would spend most of his time locked away in his room. You wonder if you should interfere, but by then he would come out like nothing happened, wearing the pretty smile he always had before pressing kisses onto your forehead.
Well, you got your answer one night.
San is curled up against you as usual, his head on your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, his tail swishing on the couch. His ears are perked up, as he tries to concentrate on the program running on the television. 
But he can’t seem to. His eyes are gradually glazing out, his tail slowly pulling straight and his ears are slowly pointing to the front. San shuts his eyes when he feels your fingers brush against his dark locks, then scratching the back of his ears. He takes a shaky breath, biting his tongue in the process as his sensitivity climbs up in levels dangerously quick once more, evident by how much his pants are tightening at his crotch.
You feel your hybrid still and finally look down at San, wondering why he suddenly froze. Then you realise how pink his cheeks are getting.
“Sannie”, you call out. “Are you okay there?” Your hands press against his cheeks, and for a split second, you think he’s running a fever, which shoots panic right into your veins. 
San only whimpers in reply, his ears are downcast, and he presses himself against you, rubbing slightly in any feeble attempt to relieve the discomfort, and his erection makes things slowly click in your head.
“I’m fine,” is all he’s able to mutter before he bites his bottom lip, drawing blood. He attempts to pull away before his dick starts to take over his brain, but your hands force him to stay seated beside you. 
“Sannie”, you call out once more, trying to get the feline to focus. Your eyes dart to his pants, noticing the dark stain that’s beginning to pool on his pants.
“Are you in heat?”
San tries to blink away his tears, his hard cock starting to fucking hurt the more he’s just leaving it like that. He hates this funny feeling, like nothing can satisfy him no matter what he does. It’s not the first time he’s felt this way, and he hates how weird this all feels. San has always tried to be a considerate hybrid, showering you with so much love that he made it his life mission to suffocate you with it ever since you adopted him. He’s tried to suppress his ruts, deciding to take suppressants initially. It works, at least until the pharmacy had run out of stock for the month. Now, all that is flooding in his mind is how he wants you pinned under him, forced to take his cock deep in your pussy, and he’s driving him fucking nuts. He tells himself he can manage it, and he does his best, but fucking his fist can only hold him off for so long. 
And now it’s his limit. 
He knows you would say yes to help him and he detests the idea of hurting you, especially in a crazed frenzy that he’s unable to hold off and all he can think of is just holding you down and fucking you. Hard.
San breaks off eye contact, which is starting to tick you off. Your hands are now cupping his cheeks.
“I can take care of it myself”, San replies, trying to ignore the way his body feels like it’s ignited into flames whenever your touch lingers on him for a little too long. 
“But it’s not working isn’t it?” You counter, which draws a frustrated expression from San. His body is tense, and it’s taking all of his strength to not pin you down and just take you on the couch right there and then. “You know it’s okay to ask me for help right?” 
“I don’t wanna hurt you”, he mutters, his gaze dropping to the seat of the couch. 
“And I know you won’t”, you reply, closing the distance between the both of you. San’s heartbeat quickens at the proximity and your words. He’s so enamored by the fact that you trust him that much, and it’s driving him fucking insane. 
“It’s different when I’m not myself”, San attempts to counter once more, fighting with any remaining rational thought before it gets completely flushed out by his cock. 
“What makes you think I can’t take it?” You ask rhetorically, and that makes San freeze in response. He parts his lips to say something but you cut him off- 
“Come on, Sannie. You know I trust you with my body.” 
He swallows hard, the remainder of his rationale dissipating when you’re already tugging the waistband of his pants, pulling the clothing off as his red and angry cock springs out, wet and thick with slick already. 
It’s the not the first time you’re sucking him off, it’s not the first time San is gonna fuck you, but his cock just seems extra thick when he’s in heat. 
Not that you were complaining. 
Beads of perspiration trickle down San’s temples. He feels like his body is on fire right now—every area of skin your fingertips brush against is making him feel like he’s about to combust. He’s reminding himself to breathe and relax, but his heartbeat is doing otherwise. 
And when he watches you taking his full length into his mouth, he barely holds himself together, the pleasure shooting up his veins when he feels your throat close and squeeze his cock. His hands reach out to the back of your head, and he’s doing his best not to just push you down and make you choke. 
You hear his grunts slowly turn into whines, the way he gently squeezes his thighs against your head, and his toes are curled. 
“T-that’s it. Fuck. Oh fuck! Deeper, deeper. Please”, San cries, unknowingly already pushing your head further down his cock, and he barely registers you gagging. But all you’re feeling is slick lubing your cunt and butterflies in your stomach from the way San is looking so desperate just to get off.  It’s so fucking adorable.
You pull back, listening to the whines from San, watching the way the thick and white fluids bubble from his cock and leak down his shaft, while he watches you pull your shirt over your head, your tits bouncing slightly for his mouth to gape and for his eyes to fuck. You lower yourself back to his pretty dick, giving his shaft kitten licks from the bottom, San’s hands immediately tangling against your hair, pushing you impossibly close to his cock. 
A few more teasing licks later, you finally take his cock in your mouth, your tongue running up and down the thick shaft while you bobbed your head, and San is grasping at any final ounce of sanity he has left. His moans are so desperate and pretty, and you’re soaking in the way he’s so tensed up as you’re pulling his orgasm closer to the surface. His tail is coiled tight against your arm. 
“Cumming. Your mouth feels so fucking good—“, his words being cut off when his mind completely blanks out, washed in white as his cum seeps past your lips when his cock leaves your throat. 
“You’re so fucking pretty when you cum, kitty”, you tease as you wipe your lips with a piece of tissue, not realising your partner is staring down at you with glazed eyes, that he’s barely satiated. 
Before you could process anything, San’s thick arms wrap around your waist, then he fucking heaves you off the couch, and starts walking towards your shared bedroom. 
You fall onto the bed, watching your feline partner’s pupils dilate, his tail now long straight, and his ears completely perked up.
San’s lips aim for yours, his kisses sloppy and desperate, his tongue going scavenging every corner of your mouth before he grazes his fangs against your lips and pulls back. You stare back at him with confusion hinted with a strange sense of eagerness. San doesn’t fuck you during his ruts often, mostly because he opts for the suppressants, but when he does…
He pulls the remainder of your clothes off you, swallowing hard while he fucks you with his eyes, especially at the way your pussy is just dripping for him, glistening with slick under the lights. 
San leans in closer, his body weight pinning you underneath him as his cum stains your pelvic area, “No tapping out now, kitty.”
He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, because he lines his cock up with your cunt and pushes in, making you gasp at how fucking thick he is, even when he just cummed barely minutes before. 
“You gotta relax for me, babe. Fuck. You’re so fucking tight”, he hisses, feeling your cunt stretching to accommodate him. You’re in awe—the switch between being desperate and domineering when San is in heat never ceases to amaze you. But you barely have time to let your thoughts manifest because San has your legs spread wide open for him, his thrusts pushing any wandering thoughts you have out of your head. He’s filling you up so good and full that you see a slight bulge pushing against your lower abdomen. 
“S-San, you’re so fucking thick. Oh my fucking god”, you groan when you feel his cock drag against your plush walls before he plunges himself back in. It’s a tight squeeze for sure, but San isn’t relenting anytime soon, especially when the look of complete pleasure flooding his face is only making you even wetter. His eyes are growing wild. In between fucking, he’d lean in to leave pretty marks all over your neck and chest, uselessly reminding you who you really belonged to. He would whisper that you are so fucking pretty for him, covered in his pretty marks on top of completely ruining your pussy. 
The more his cock hits your sensitive spots, the more your grip on reality slowly loosens, the only things you’re soaking in are the wet sounds of his cock making a pretty mess out of your pussy and the feeling of San so thick and heavy in you that stars start to flicker beneath your eyelids whenever you shut them. 
San pulls back from your body momentarily—his cock still fitted into you—to get a better angle to fuck you in, pushing your knees closer to your chest, giving him the perfect view of your pussy completely drenched in cream and precum. And it gives him more access to hit even deeper parts of your poor cunt.
Your mind grows blank, mostly focus on trying to chase an orgasm that’s bubbling up to the surface. You watch the way San’s pretty ears are twitching, the way he clenched his teeth, his once blunt fangs now sharper the more he grows feral from fucking you. His cheeks that were once dusted pink now are flushed alongside his furrowed eyebrows. His eyes would roll back from the way your cunt squeezes him and it drives him to want to fuck you even more senseless. 
“Sannie—“, you huff, trying to tell him, “I’m cumming. Don’t stop.” San stares down at you, his eyes reflecting adoration mixed with hunger. Your breath hitches when you feel it bubble at the surface—and it feels so fucking heavenly—you jerk slightly with a broken moan, your pussy fluttering while still full with San’s cock stuffed deep inside. Your hands fist the sheets, your thighs shaking, your toes curled from how mind-blowing it feels. 
“So good. Gonna make a mess outta you”, the feline hybrid promises he presses himself against you, forcing you to hear him groan in bliss while warm cum spills and fills you up. He stills for a second or so, before he pulls out slowly, watching the way his cum slowly seeps out of your fluttering hole, and he swallows hard. 
“Need more. Not enough”, San mutters, before he pushes his cock back in, forcing his cum to leak and spill onto your inner thighs. Your eyes are watering, fingernails clawing against San’s arm which he barely registers when he fits his full cock right into you one more time. 
He grunts, voice so low right in your ears, and you can’t help but squeeze around him, on top of feeling overstimulated. 
“W-wait—“, you jump, every nerve in your body still buzzing from your high. San meets your gaze, and you feel goosebumps on your skin when you feel his tail graze against your tummy. 
“Like I said, no tapping out, not until I’ve bred you full”, San reminds you before he shifts positions—settling you on top of him. His hands shifting to squeeze your ass before he guides you to slowly sink onto his cock once more, the both you shakily exhaling, San’s cock twitching in you as he lets you adjust to him. Your cunt is wet and sticky, but he still fills you full all the same, now even deeper since you’re sitting on his dick. 
“So full. Oh god. You’re so deep, Sannie”, you squeal when he presses the bulge on your lower abdomen once more, adding to the pleasure. 
You lift yourself off and slowly bounce off his cock with San’s hands on your ass to guide you, although he is rather impatient with it. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug while he’s thrusting right into your cunt over and over, and it makes you tug against his hair and scratch the back of his ears, which pulls out a purr and another thrust up your cunt and a light nibble against your neck. 
“You shouldn’t do that if you don’t want me to ruin your pussy”, San warns you along with a loud slap his palm impacts against your ass. You return his words with a cheeky smile before you bite against his ears gently, and he groans below you, his thrusts increasing in speed and as he fills you up with his cock every two seconds. 
He pulls you down for a messy kiss, his breathing heavy. Then he pulls away, looking up at you, dripping with lust, entranced by how gorgeous his partner looks filled up with his cock. The feeling builds up dangerously in your stomach once more. You glance at San, his eyes are shut, soft grunts leaving his lips, his cock twitching in you once more, he’s at his limit too, it seems.
You tap his arm, and San’s eyes flutter open, staring back at you as his pupils dilate and his ears point forwards. The corner of his lips curl into a smile. 
“Are you gonna cum for me again babe?” 
You nod, biting the bottom of your lip, a broken cry leaving your lips when he pushes his hips upwards into you once more, ripping a moan out of you as white bursts and floods your veins, your cunt convulsing around his cock for the second time, making San hiss. 
As you go down from your high, you interlock your fingers with San’s, keeping eye contact with him. 
“You can let go, Sannie. You’ve been such a good kitty”, you hum, brushing his hair back, not forgetting to scratch the back of his ears, knowing that it drives him fucking nuts as San bares his fangs and bites onto your shoulder, his cock spurting even more white into your spent pussy. His eyes roll back when he pulls away from your shoulder, whines piling on whines when he seems like he’s spilling his cum into you endlessly. 
As the snapped tension slowly dissipates, the both of you are left panting and catching your breaths. You giggle, breaking the short moment of silence, which San cocks an eyebrow, curious at your amusement.
“What are you laughing at, kitty?” He asks. 
You stare at him for a couple of seconds, admiring his face. “Nothing. I was thinking of how pretty you look when you cum, kitty.” 
San pouts at you, his face flushing from the shyness, and his retaliation comes in the form of biting your fingers. He gently lifts you off him, almost forgetting that his cock is still in you for second when he hears you whimper. But what definitely catches his attention is the amount of slick and thick white that trickles out of your pretty pussy, and San has to bite his inner cheek to hold his instincts from going a third round. He carries you to the bathroom, his tail swishing satisfied behind him, thinking about how baths aren’t so bad when you take them with him. 
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lcriedlastnight · 4 months ago
Note
Y/n thinks Lando slept with someone else and they have a big fight about it, only for y/n to learn Lando needed help proposing
as soon as i seen this in my inbox i got excited to write it! thank you anon, it's a great idea!
tw: fem!reader, swears, sneaky lando but i'm sure you know where it's going based on the ask, lmk if you want me to add anything.
w/c: 1.8k
lando has been acting very suspicious lately. at first you has brushed it off to busy weeks filled with important racing duties but when he was still secretive after a lovely spa day you had set for him at your apartment, you knew something was up. the night of the spa day you were laying in bed with lando and usually if he's forgotten to set an alarm for the next morning, he will ask you to just go onto his phone and set it for him, so when he asks you to hand his phone over so he can set an alarm? well it sets off your own alarm bells in your head.
lando had never ever hidden his phone from you, always completely open with you and willing to scroll through his phone if you wanted to. you had never felt the need to but sometimes you liked to scroll through his photos and have him explain them to you.
you did not say anything to him about it that night, or afterwards but you kept a note of things you found suspicious or weird or even just a little out or character for your boyfriend, knowing that if the time came where you found out something you could not even think about then you had have evidence. if you had more guts you would have asked to scroll through his phone that night to see what he did but you did not want to fight after such a lovely day. maybe you were just postponing the inevitble.
the next time you had written down in your notes was a doosy. you had gone out to lunch with a few of your friends and lando had offered to drop you off and pick you up once you had all caught up. you had gotten ready and lando had dropped you off with a sweet kiss goodbye and promises of picking you up whenever you wanted to come home, you were just to give him a call. you grin and agree as you close the car door and make your way to the table your friends had sat at. it seemed you were the last one to arrive.
it is only when you have sat down and gotten comfortable that you realise, your best friend is not here.
"hey, where is lacy?" you ask the group, confused as last night when you were all confirming in the group chat if you guys could make it or not, lacy was the first one to confirm.
everyone mutters that they are not sure or that they thought she mus be running later. you all shrug and you try to forget about it but you have a lingering feeling in the back of your mind. it is a bit big to push all the way to the back of your mind but a few drinks and a gossip with your friends would do the trick.
you guys chat away and drink through three or four rounds. none of you drunk, really but none of you even thinking about drinking and driving. everyone had sorted out how they were getting home before coming. "responsible group of girls." you had joked when you had asked about it and they had all told you they had a way home.
everyone texts their lifts home as you head to the foyer where it is a bit quieter and call lando. it send you to voicemail. you try him again but it does the same thing, ringing until the voicemail blared in your ears. you were pissed off to say the least. you did not mind if he wanted to go out and do things without you but do not promise you will pick someone up if you will not be back in time! is that not just common courtesy?
you ask one of the girls if her boyfriend can take you home and she says it is no problem. you are embarrassed because you are just after bragging about how amazing lando was and now here you were... getting proved wrong.
good job you remembered to bring a key with you so you did not get locked outside. you thank your friend's boyfriend as you get out your car and see lando's car parked in front of the apartment complex.
you stomp into the apartment and throw your keys down on the table in the hallway.
"thanks for remembering to pick me up lando! i had to get a ride with micheal and amy!" you shout as you pull your trainers off and put them in the rack. you walk into the living room to see lando on the couch and lacy in the kitchen, making tea.
"what the fuck?" you ask, internally freaking out but not showing it. this paired with your suspicions that lando was cheating send your brain into panic mode. instead of freaking out and jumping to conclusions you ask "why weren't you at lunch? and why are you here now?".
lando could tell you were pissed and at this point, he felt like saying he was cheating would be the easier option, rather than hiding all of this from you. he hated lying to you. the boy had literally never done it before. you could tell from how sloppy he was, this being a prime example.
"i couldn't make it to lunch in the end. you know that boy i've been talking to? he asked me out on a date and i just couldn't say no." lacy explained, handing you a cup. her explanation did not ease your worry though, lando could easily be the boy she was talking to and they have went on a date when you were busy out with your friends.
"i came over to tell you about it but i forgot you were out at lunch with the girls. i've only been here like ten minutes." lacy adds, lando nods on the couch not really doing much. you decide to believe them but you put it in your notes. lando and lacy out together? while i'm with my friends. lando cheating on me with lacy???
you end up taking that out of your notes a few weeks later. you lay in bed while lando is in the shower and you think that now is a good time to go through your notes, thinking about things you could add or take away and if it all still makes sense in your mind.
as your sorting through the semi-long list you make you lando's voice. you had not realised the shower had stopped. at first you think he is talking to you so you are about to shout back when you hear the distant sound of someone speaking through the phone. not to sound like you were accusing your boyfriend of cheating but it sounded like a girl. it sounded like a girl you did not know.
"i can't tell her. it's stressing me out to no end. i just want to be done with it now." you strain to hear his hushed words, done with what? tell who? you? why was he stressed?
you are tired of all the secrets. the hushed conversations, lando hiding things from you. you do not think you can deal with it anymore.
once lando is off the phone he makes is way into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. "hi, baby." lando acknowledges you as you lay on the bed. the towel around his waist distracted you for a moment before you got your mind back on track. it helped that he had gotten changed into some pyjama trousers, although his abs were still on display.
"are you cheating on me?" you just come out and say it, you voice is a little worried. lando drops the towel in his hands at your words.
"am i what?" lando stares at you. "is this one of those tiktok trends? what am i supposed to say that will get the most views. where's your phone we can start again?" lando glances around the room for your phone. he thinks this is a joke. a tiktok prank. you does not think you are distressed over this.
"i'm serious lando. you've been acting weird for a while now." you tell him your frown deep as you speak.
lando is surprised and practically leaps towards you.
"i'm not cheating on you. i swear to you. i would never even think about hurting you like that." lando swears his hands holding your face gently to stop you from avoiding his eyes.
"then what are you doing? because you're acting weird. you're not acting like you. i miss the old you, when you didn't set your own alarms." you pout at him.
lando sighs. "i guess i'm gonna have to tell you, huh?" the driver asks. you are confused as he gets off the bed and walks over to your dressing table. on top there is a small dish where you keep all the rings you wear when they are not on your fingers. you prefer the dish to a box, it is less work to get to them. lando calls it lazy but you call it time efficient. he grabs the one your grandma got you for christmas back when you were still at school. it is old and most of the rose gold plating has come off, the colour does not match with the rest of your jewellery but you wear it everyday.
it is quick and sudden the way he is standing in front of you a few steps away from the bed, then he is on one knee holding out the ring. "the ring i was gonna use isn't here yet because you're too impatient for me to do anything properly. i had a whole day planned out, you know?" lando is joking with you but there is nothing in you that wants to laugh right now.
your hand slapped over your mouth as you feel your eyes well up with tears.
"what are you doing?" you ask him, it is muffled from your hand but lando can make you out.
"what's it look like? i'm proposing. will you marry me please, baby?" he asks the old ring sits in between your fingers as you stare at him, tears finally falling.
"yeah." you murmur.
"yeah?" lando asks, a little cocky but mostly to make sure.
you nod frantically, lando takes your right hand and slides the ring on your middle finger (it is where you usually wear the ring. you honestly cannot believe he even knows where it goes). you then jump towards him, arms swinging around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.
lando's lips mould over yours as he you kiss him frantically. the kiss is cut short because lando can not stop laughing.
"why're you laughing?" you ask him, smile plastered on your face from his laughter.
"just can't believe i get to love you for the rest of my life. i can't wait." you kiss him again.
808 notes · View notes
luveline · 1 year ago
Note
jadey!! would you ever write something for spencer where reader gets tipsy/drunk and is all over him? i just think he would be so cute and flustered, especially if she isn’t usually this forward with him (either established relationship or mutual crushing!)
thanks for your request lovely♡ —you really want spencer to be your boyfriend. fem!reader, 1k
The smell of your lip balm is the very first thing Spencer acknowledges, rather than the soft press of your lips to his cheek, or your hand on his neck. When he does realise you're kissing him it's like a shock to the system; Spencer hadn't thought about what his neck might feel like to a new hand until you're cupping it sweetly, hadn't worried about the neatness of his hair before you ran a hand over it with reverence. 
"Thanks for coming to pick me up," you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Best boyfriend ever." 
Which is a great sentiment and all, but Spencer isn't your boyfriend. He holds your back in one arm, the other busy strangling his shiny car keys, his mind racing. He isn't your boyfriend. Right? You have to ask someone for it to be official (according to Derek, Penelope, and Emily) (JJ was a little more lax about it) and Spencer's been too scared to ask you. 
"Are you okay?" he asks softly. You're wobbly. 
"Super drunk," you say, like it's one word, a diagnosable affliction. "Sorry." 
"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to be sober for me to drive you home. I'm really glad you called me." 
You're drunk enough to miss his confused tones. "No,  I'm sorry 'cos I knew you'd say yes even though you hate driving. I honestly didn't even think you had a car." 
Spencer pulls you closer as a couple stumbles out of the same bar you'd been inside of, though when he arrived you were sitting on the cold sidewalk with your knees pulled up and your dress slipping out of place. He adjusts his grip to put an arm under yours and begins leading you toward to the parking lot. 
"Next time, I'll come inside to get you, okay? I don't think I need statistics to remind you that it's not safe to be inebriated by yourself in the city, especially now." It's pitch black outside, stars like a scattering of tint salt grains visible to only the most dedicated of eyes. "It's dangerous for you. I don't mind coming in to find you." 
"You're the nicest," you declare, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. 
He's fitter than he used to be, but Spencer doesn't have a chance of getting you to the car if you're not conscious. "Hey, keep your eyes open. It's not far, okay? Work with me."
"Will you call me something nice if I do?" you ask. 
Spencer helps you down off of the curb and across a naked stretch of asphalt shining like grease in the light from the lamppost. "I'll call you whatever you want me to." 
"You called me pretty on Thursday." 
Spencer feels the heat of a blush blooming at your slurred proclamation but doesn't back down. "You looked pretty on Thursday. You look pretty every single day. Watch the curb." 
"What about, uh, pet names?" 
"Like what?" he asks. 
"Like honey, and sweetheart. Angel, doll, dove." 
"Is that what you want?" he asks, trying to sneak a look at your face. You're concentrating hard on your footsteps, your tall shoes slippery on the wet ground. 
"If we're together…" 
"Are we together?" Spencer asks. He shouldn't ask while you're drunk, and it's not like he's going to take your word for it now over any sober discussion in the future, but he wants to know. 
"You don't think we're together?" you ask, frowning. He's horrified to see the crushed tremble in your lip. 
"I haven't had the chance to ask you yet," he says quickly. 
You sniffle, looking at him with a wide-eyed hope. "But you're going to ask me?" 
"Yeah, I'm going to ask you." He lowers his voice. He's not afraid of other people hearing him. If anything, he's afraid you will. He's afraid you'll hear him and reject him, despite every sign that says you won't. "I've wanted to ask you for a really long time, but you're– I was scared. You're beautiful, and kind, and you make me feel like I've found something I was missing, now. I guess I thought holding off would change the odds." 
"I thought you got banned from all those casinos," you say, clinging to his arm. 
Spencer's nose wrinkles. "What does that have to do with anything?" 
"You count cards and pr… probability," —you sound it out— "right? Have you not been doing that with me?" 
Spencer stops walking to help you pull your jacket back onto your bare shoulder. It's too cold to stay out here long. "It's different. You're different." 
"Oh." You smile at him dreamily. Eyes squinting until your lashes kiss in the corners, you smile like your lips have been stuck together with honey. You pout at him very gently, and he thinks you might want a kiss.
Spencer pats your back. "Come on. I'll take you home. You can sleep it off." 
"Can I come home with you?" 
He sees his car in the distance, a beacon of hope. "Yeah, if you want. But I don't have any pyjamas or anything for you." 
"Not yet," you say. 
Spencer goes pink to the ears, and unfortunately for him, you notice. You refuse to walk a step further, throwing heavy arms over his shoulders to beam at him eye to eye. Your fingers tangle gently into the ends of his hair and twist in circles that have butterflies exploding in his stomach. His breath catches when you tug on a strand, clearly bemused. 
"I really want to be your girlfriend." 
"I–" He swallows roughly. "I really want you to be my girlfriend." 
"Will you ask me?" 
"Tomorrow?" he asks delicately. He might be shy with you, but he has no qualms now showing you how vehemently he returns your affections, his arms curling slowly but surely behind your back. 
You fall into his arms for another hug. "Yesssss," you cheer under your breath. 
He sneaks a kiss against the shell of your ear. "Wanna go get something to eat first?" 
You gasp like you've been offered the world. "You really are the best boyfriend." 
3K notes · View notes
mapis-putellas · 28 days ago
Text
𝑨 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕
Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader
Words: 5.5k
Warnings: Mentions of throwing up. Panic attacks. I think that’s it.
Summary: Your time at Barça comes to an end.
Notes: I tried to add a little more detail to my writing, so I hope it turned out somewhat decent <3
[prompt list]
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A lot of people have told her what it was like to truly be in love. To feel that spark, that infatuation and instant connection that has you feeling weak at the knees. But Alexia hadn't truly known what love was until she'd met you. Like, true, fulfilling, genuine love that was both so exciting and terrifying it felt like falling off a cliff with no idea how high it is or what was at the bottom.
You came into her life unexpectedly, a ray of sunshine; always shining bright and radiating both warmth and happiness wherever you went. You make everyone around you feel good without even trying, a trait most people in this world lacked due to no fault of their own. Wherever she turned, you were there, the smile on your face so genuine it was hard not to smile back.
She doesn’t quite know how to put into words just how much she loves you, but if she has to try, it was like being on the brink of something extraordinary every single waking moment. You make her feel adored and valued on the days where she can't even stand herself. You make her feel cherished, important, like the ground beneath her wouldn't cave in at any second.
It was like a rollercoaster ride all of the time. Some days were both thrilling and exciting, and some days it was both dizzying and terrifying. Sometimes it was so overwhelming she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself. What was was sure of though is she wouldn't want to do any of it by herself. You were her everything, and she was yours, and she wasn't going to let anyone or anything get in the way of that. Including the fact you were moving half way across the country to join Arsenal.
It had been on the first of the month that you'd told her. You had been quiet and withdrawn for the entirety of the day, only responding to her futile attempts at conversation with quiet hums and one word answers.
Alexia hadn't quite known what to do when you'd exited the car with a quiet request for some space. You barely even give her a chance to respond, grabbing your things from the trunk before disappearing into the apartment building. Alexia had waited what she'd thought was a good amount of time before making her way inside too, footsteps hesitant and a deep sense of unease filling her stomach. The apartment door was closed, just as she'd thought it would be, and she does everything possible to swallow back the inevitable tightness in her throat as she unlocks the door and makes her way inside.
As she sets down her things, she realises everything was so unnervingly quiet she could hear the sound of her own breath. It was loud, quick, so clearly full of anticipation she pauses for a second to get herself together. It wasn't like her to be so unsure of herself, not when she was around you. Not in the comfort of her own home where it had taken months for her to fully accept the fact that no matter what mood she was in or how bad her day had gone you'd always welcome her inside with open arms.
Even when you'd had a bad day you were always willing to be around her. Your smile, whilst a little sad, still so genuine it made her thank whoever was above for bringing you into her life. Not only were you always willing to put everybody above yourself, you did so without consideration of your own feelings.
Perhaps that was why the sense of impending dread was unlike nothing she'd ever felt before, because not once in this relationship had you ever pushed her away. Been so quiet and so unwilling to talk.
Accepting your need for space, she walks past the closed bedroom door and makes her way through to the kitchen. She stands in the middle of the room for a few unsure seconds before deciding to make a start on dinner. If you won’t talk to her, the least she could do was feed you. You always love her cooking no matter what she makes, and she hopes the comfort of a home cooked meal would help ease whatever upset you were feeling.
In the bedroom, you were laid on Alexia's side of the bed, your body curled up small and your head buried into her pillow. It was soaked with tears, the material uncomfortably sticking to the skin of your cheek.
You didn’t think the word pain quite gives the way you were feeling justice. Oh no. It quite literally felt like someone had ripped your heart out of your chest before trampling all over it and shoving it back in. You were leaving Barcelona. Leaving Alexia. The word pain couldn't even begin to describe just how absolutely devastated you felt.
The second you had found out they weren't signing you for another season, it was as though everything around you had turned fuzzy, almost like the feeling you get when your leg falls asleep. An emptiness had suddenly filled you and it was so profound it made your chest physically ache. You hadn't heard a single world Jona after the fact. It was as though your world had stopped and in a way, it had. Your life in Barca, with Alexia, was no longer, and you only had your self to blame.
You should have been better. Scored more. Not gotten so many yellow cards. Done something, anything, so they would like you better and want you to stay. And maybe had they told you before the transfer window had closed, you could have at least tried to change their minds. But they hadn't. They'd kept it to themselves until the last possible second and because of that, there was now absolutely nothing you could do to change it.
You were leaving, and you had no idea just how you were going to tell Alexia without tearing your heart completely in two. You could hear her, if you really focused. The sound of ceramic dishes hitting the table and the soft thuds of her feet as she walks. She was cooking dinner, just as she does most nights after you get home from training if you don't opt to order in.
Most nights, you'd been in the kitchen with her. Sometimes sat on the counter and sometimes stood behind her holding her body to your own. You'd steal small morsels of food of whatever she'd decided to make that day and you'd pout playfully when she'd scold you for doing so. You could only imagine just how clueless she feels in there by herself, not knowing what was wrong or how to help. It makes a part of you want to go sit with her, just for the company, but the thought of seeing that beautiful, oblivious face, so unaware of the news you held simply made you want to crawl into a hole and die.
You can’t face her. Not yet. Not ever if given the choice but that simply wasn't an option. Telling her was inevitable, and you just had to accept the fact she might hate you for it despite it being completely out of your control.
You have no idea just how long you end up laying here for before you hear the sound of two gentle knocks against your bedroom door. They were barely audible, and you take that as an almost cruel opportunity to pretend you hadn't heard them. The door opens anyway, the sound of it creaking a deathly loud noise in comparison to the quietness of the room.
"Amor?" Her voice was a quiet, tentative whisper sounding so unsure it has you screwing your eyes so tightly shut in a futile effort to prevent anymore tears from falling. "Amor," the same soft footsteps you'd heard earlier make their way closer to the bed. "I made you dinner."
Silence.
Alexia softly clears her throat. "It is Pasta. Your favourite." She trails off hopefully, and it takes everything in you to remain still. You can’t face her. Not yet. You weren't ready.
Alexia wrings her hands nervously as she takes another small step closer to the bed. "I..." she hesitates, scratching the inside of her wrist. "I do not know what happened. Will you please talk to me?"
More silence, and you'd never hated yourself more.
"I do not know what to do" Her voice audibly trembles making the tightness in your throat physically impossible to swallow back. You could feel your resolve wavering. Just because you couldn't tell her what was wrong right this second didn't mean you can't let her sooth you, right?
"Bebé?"
With a deep, shuddering breath, you use every ounce of strength within you to sit yourself up and face her. She was standing just a few feet away from the bed, toes scrunching and un-scrunching anxiously against the carpet. Her hands were clasped tightly around her shirt, wrinkling the material as she squeezes and twists.
But what breaks your heart the most was the wetness staining her cheeks. She was crying. Crying because of you. Because you were too much of a wimp to simply tell her what was wrong. The guilt you were already feeling amplifies by a thousand, and you were forced look away from her before you well and truly broke.
"Amor?" She whispers unsurely, and you sniffle softly as you wipe your sweaty hands on your pants before taking a deep breath. It was a futile effort at composing yourself, but you simply had nothing else left in you.
"Will you-"
"I don't want to talk about it. Not yet. I can't." you cut her off, and Alexia swallows heavily before nodding her head. The overwhelming sense of dread that had once faded makes an abrupt reappearance at your words, but she tries desperately not to let it show. If she pushed, you'd push back harder, and she'd never figure out what was going on.
"Okay." She accepts in a quiet whisper, unwilling to do anything that might upset you further.
You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. "Okay?"
She nods.
"Okay." You whisper with a quiet breath of relief.
"Will you come eat?" She asks hopefully after a few seconds of silence. "I made your favourite."
The thought of food alone made you feel so incredibly nauseous you were forced to swallow back a different kind of tightness in the back of your throat. It pains you to reject her again, but you just couldn't do it. Not without ending this already horrible day with your head stuck in the toilet.
You shake your head. "Ale, I'm not-”
"Just a few bites?" She pleads quietly, hesitantly. "For me?" She holds out her hand.
You look up at her. You take in her wet cheeks, the unsure body language and the trembling fingers. You'd put her through the wringer tonight without even trying, and it was clear to see she was desperate for some sort of normality. Despite everything in you screaming to say no, you find yourself standing up and taking her hand. You were barely on your feet for two seconds before she envelopes you completely in her arms, her chest flush against your own as your feet hang from the floor.
Your bottom lip wobbles as she buries her head against your neck, your head dropping to rest heavily against her shoulder. It takes you a few moments, but your arms do eventually find themselves wrapping securely around her shoulders. At the feeling of you returning the embrace, she drops an arm from around your waist and hooks it beneath your behind, bouncing you up slightly so your legs cold wrap around her waist.
"I am sorry." She whispers, the words taking a few moments to fully register in your grief ridden mind. The second they do, you lift your head off of her shoulder and reach your trembling hands up to coax her face away from your neck. You were glad to see she wasn't crying again, but you could tell by the shininess in her eyes that it was taking everything in her to hold the tears back.
"No," you shake your head, cupping her cheeks and wiping the pads of your thumbs to rid them of their wetness. Alexia blinks, and you catch the first tear that escapes before it could fall. "No," you repeat. "You don't have to be sorry. You've done absolutely nothing wrong. Nothing at all."
Alexia swallows.
"It's..." the tears you'd been trying to desperately to hold back break free, and you make no effort to wipe them away. "I'm not ready to talk yet, and I'm so, so sorry that means you're being kept in the dark. I just need...a few hours. Just a few hours to process and then we'll talk, okay? I promise."
Alexia looks even more terrified as her grip loosens just slightly. "Are you...are you bre-"
"No." You're aware of how panicked you sound, but you needed the message to get through to her before she could fully mistake her assumptions for the truth. "No. I'm not. Not now. Not ever. I could never...no."
Her grip tightens around you again, and you let out a relieved sounding sob as you fall limp against her. You feel one of her hands lift to rest against the back of your head, and for a second, you allow to yourself to break; for her to comfort you, because after hearing what you had to say, it could be the last time she ever does so.
Alexia doesn't think she's ever felt more useless in her entire life as she holds you close, her throat burning, threatening the onslaught of tears. Something serious was going on. There has to be. She's never seen you this upset before, not even when you'd done your acl just a few months after she'd done hers. You'd been upset then sure, but you'd never shed more than a single tear in the year it had taken to get back on the pitch, and that year had been hell for both of you.
Tightening her grip around you, she turns in place and makes her way through to the kitchen. The two plates of pasta were just as she'd left them, though she suspected they'd long gone cold now. Knowing you wouldn't be able to eat despite saying that you would try and not particularly caring about her own meal, she passes the kitchen table and makes her way over to one of the free spaces left on the countertop.
She purposely ignores the burning in her arms as she eases you down and settles herself between your legs, feeling the way your crossed feet settle against her backside as her arms secure themselves tightly around your back. You were still in her arms, thankfully no longer crying if the lack of tears against her neck was anything to go by. It allows Alexia to relax momentarily for she knows things would sure turn south once you reveal what was making you so upset.
You pull away a few moments later, sniffling softly as Alexia tenderly cups your cheeks to wipe away the wetness staining them. You lean into her touch, eyes fluttering shut when she leans in and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.
"I love you." She murmurs against the warm skin, and you're forced to once again swallow back your emotions as you take her wrists and press a soft kiss to the inside of them both.
"I love you." The unsteadiness of your voice was obvious, and you're grateful when Alexia makes no attempt at pointing it out. She leans in and kisses you, tasting the saltiness of your tears, and your hands desperately cup her face, not allowing her to pull away. Alexia's hands grasp your sides as she deepens the kiss just slightly, feeling the soft exhale you breath out through your nose against her skin. When you pull away, your eyes were closed, and Alexia takes this as her chance to really take you in.
Your expression gives absolutely nothing away. Nothing at all. Her gaze was still on you when your eyes finally open, brown irises full of an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. You tilt your head to the side, a silent question to which she nods in response to. Seconds later, the look in her eyes changes. Now, they were light, hopeful, willing for you to open up and trust her and god did you so badly want to.
"I am going to make you a smoothie." She breaks the silence, her hands giving your thighs a soothing squeeze as she steps out of your hold and makes her way over to your refrigerator. You watch her retreating figure as you let out a soft sigh. You still didn’t think you could stomach anything, but the thought of a smoothie was admittedly more appetising than cold pasta. You felt a little bad that the meal she’d cooked you had gone to waste, but seeing as though Alexia doesn't mind, you try not to either.
Alexia's eyes skim the contents for a few moments before she pulls out a few different fruits she knew were your favourite. She sets them down onto the counter next to you before heading to the sink and thoroughly washing her hands, allowing the water to run a little hotter than appropriate in a futile effort at feeling something other than complete and utter dread.
It doesn't work, and as she dries her hands, she wonders just how much longer she would be able to last before she inevitably breaks and begs for you to tell her what was going on. When she'd torn her acl, the fear she'd felt about not being able to play the sport she loved more than anything else in this world pained her more than she could even begin to explain. But the fear of losing you was a tenfold to that. Because yes, football was her world, but you were her entire universe so feeling this dread, this uncertainty and uneasiness was so, so much worse.
Softly clearing her throat, she forces a smile into her face and makes her way back over to you. You were in the exact same position, though now you were staring at her with pity. It makes her bristle just slightly, but she forces herself not to react as she grabs the blender out of the cupboard and plugs it into the wall.
The process of making both smoothies was done in silence. Alexia doesn't say a word, and neither do you. Soon, Alexia was back between your legs, a small glass in her hand that held the contents of your smoothie. You don't let yourself hesitate as you gently take it from her, bringing it to your lips for cautious sip. When it doesn't seem as though your stomach would reject it, you allow yourself a proper mouthful, a hum of content falling from your lips as you swallow.
"Good?" Alexia murmurs as her hands retake their place on each of your thighs, squeezing the flesh softly before her palms begin tracing gentle circles against the soft skin. You nod your head, holding the glass up to her lips despite the fact she had her own smoothie just next to you. The blonde smiles as she allows you to feed her, swallowing with a hum of content similar to your own.
You take turns in sipping both the smoothies until they were gone, Alexia setting the glasses into the sink to be washed later before scooping you back up into her arms. You welcome the closeness by allowing her to carry you through to the living room without complaint, her larger frame beneath your own as she settles comfortably on the couch. She says nothing as she slips her hands beneath your shirt to rest on the small of your back, the tips of her pinkies tracing over the dimples at the bottom of your spine, but you can tell by the look in her eyes alone that there was so much she wants to say.
It had barely even been an hour since she'd brought you out of your room, and whilst you still weren't ready to talk, you knew leaving her in the dark for any longer would be unnecessarily cruel. Unsure on whether or not she'd even want you near her when you found the courage to reveal the news, you slip off of her lap and perch on the edge of the coffee table instead, making a futile effort at avoiding eye contact as you wipe your suddenly sweaty hands off on your shorts.
You hear Alexia shift forward slightly until her knees brush against your own, her hands reaching forward to rest on either of your thighs. Your own hands circle her wrists, feeling the steady, consistent pounding of her pulse beneath the tips of your fingers. She doesn't force you to talk. She simply sits and waits, her presence alone a major comfort in a moment so anxiety inducing you felt as though you were only seconds away from throwing up.
A single drop of grief wells up in the corner of your eye as you swallow heavily, the small droplet of salty water streaming down your cheek leaving a tickling sensation in its wake. The blonde opposite you remains silent, but her hands slip down to the skin behind your knees, tugging them a little firmer against her own. Knowing it was now or never, you force yourself to make eye contact.
"I'm leaving Barça." Your voice was emotionless.
Alexia blinks as her hands freeze mid stroke against your thighs. "Qué?”
You swallow. "They didn't resign me for another season. I'm moving to Arsenal." The words felt like vomit on your tongue.
Alexia could do no more than stare as she feels the room begin to tilt around her, every sound becoming no more than a muffled echo. Her heart feels as though it had gotten stuck, each beat a sharp jab against her chest. Her mouth parts, but no words seem to be able to escape. She simply sits. Frozen. Like her entire body had forgotten how to move.
Your hands tighten around her wrists as the world around you blurs with the onslaught of tears. "I'm sorry," you choke out. "They only told me today and I...I don't want to go. I don't want to leave you." Panic gnaws at the edges of your mind when Alexia remains silent. "Say something. Please." The desperation in your voice was evident.
Alexia shakes her head as if trying to shake off the reality that was suddenly crashing down around her, her hands lifting off of your thighs and visibly trembling. She clenches them into tight fists, a futile effort for control as her gaze darts unsteadily around the room.
"I..." she has no idea what to say.
“Alexia?” You plead.
Nothing.
You feel an overwhelming urge to flee beginning to fester in the back of your mind as your hands tightly clutch the material of your sweater. Alexia's knees were still pinned on either side of your own, halting your inevitable escape. You were trapped by her, both physically and emotionally, and the longer she remains silent, the more your panic begins to build.
Your leg begins to bounce on its own accord; your heart races and it feels as though you weren't getting enough air into your lungs. A spiral of panicked thoughts keep repeating themselves, becoming more and more insistent as the minutes pass. Alexia hates you. Alexia was going to leave you. Oh god. Nausea swirls in your gut. You can't breath. Are you dying? You're dying. You have to be dying. Why can't you breath? Panicked eyes search the room for an exit. The front door. The back door. Which was closer? You didn't know. But you had to get out. You had to go.
A gentle, unsteady hand cupping your cheek startles you, and your head whips round so quickly you almost give yourself whiplash. Alexia was staring at you, eyes wide in alarm. Her lips were moving. But you couldn't hear her voice. Couldn't make out what she was saying. Why couldn't you hear what she was saying?
You feel your body move, steady hands beneath your armpits. They support the entirety of your weight as you were lifted slightly into the air. Strong, familiar thighs were soon beneath your own, your heaving chest pressed flush against Alexia's. She wraps her arms so tightly around your midsection you have no choice but to mimic her breaths. They were steady, consistent. You choke out a pathetic sounding sob as your heart continues to pound, your body unintentionally fighting her own.
But her grasp was tight. So tight you could feel nothing but her. She begins to rock. Back and forth. Back and forth. The motion was steady. Repetitive. You feel your chest loosen. Just slightly. Enough for you to breath. To get some much needed air into your lungs. The white noise in your ears begins to fade. You could hear again. Alexia was talking. In Spanish. You couldn't really understand what she was saying. But her tone was soft. Soothing. Warm. The pounding in your heart slows, and you can breath again.
You no longer felt like you were dying. Everything was quiet. Calm.
Alexia's body stills as your desperate grasp around her shirt loosens, your head falling heavily against her shoulder. Her lips press against your neck, dotting gentle kisses over the soft expanse of warm skin. You shudder a little at the sensation as you hunch your shoulders up to your ears, hearing Alexia huff out a quiet sound of amusement as she halts her affectionate attack. You feel her hands rest on each of your hips, squeezing softly before easing you away from her. When your eyes meet her own, you could clearly tell she'd been crying.
And Alexia had been.
It had taken a little while to gather her thoughts -and to get over the curveball that had been thrown her way- but eventually, Alexia had come to the quite obvious realisation that just because you wouldn’t be in the same country anymore didn’t mean your relationship was over. Long distance sucks, but it was possible, and there were many cases where it had been quite successful. Take Ona’s girlfriend, Lucy, for example. Lucy had left Barça nearly four months ago, and both she and Ona were closer than ever. Yes, being apart would be difficult. She was fully aware of that fact. But doesn’t the saying go, distance makes the heart grow fonder?
"That was a bad one, huh?" She murmurs as she presses her forehead against her own, and you could do no more than nod. Panic attacks weren't uncommon for you, but rarely does it get to the point where Alexia has to intervene anymore thanks to years of therapy. You'd learnt to anticipate the usual warning signs allowing you to talk yourself out of one before it could even begin, but that evidently hadn't been the case today for obvious reasons.
"Was it because of me?" Her hands cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the wetness beneath your eyes. Her touch was so gentle you could barely feel it.
You shrug noncommittally as you harshly wipe off your cheeks. "Not really."
"Not really?" She raises an eyebrow, and you sigh lightly as you tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear.
"I just..." you trail off. "I guess I just panicked. You wouldn't answer me and my mind just jumped to the worst case scenario." You admit, hating the fact you were once again so close to tears.
Alexia's eyebrows furrow in confusion as she loops her arms around your waist. "What do you mean?"
"I told you...I told you I was leaving, and you didn't say anything. My mind jumped to the conclusion that that was because you hated me and never wanted to see me again." Voicing your thoughts out loud made them sound stupid, and you worry now that maybe you'd majorly overreacted.
Alexia doesn't seem to have the same concern.
"Amor, you really think that little of me?" She sounds more hurt than she does mad, and the guilt hits you like a punch in the stomach. You immediately shake your head as you attempt to amend the situation.
"Of course not," you insist. "But I panicked. As I said, worst case scenario.”
Alexia releases her hold on you for a short second as she rubs her hands over her face.
You can't help but frown. "Ale, I'm so-"
Alexia cuts you off cupping your cheeks and kissing you fiercely. It quite literally takes your breath away, and you have absolutely no time to reciprocate before she was pulling away.
"I love you," your mouth parts to say it back, but Alexia shakes her head, resting her pointer finger against your lips. You gently kiss the digit, lips quirking up into a small smile when Alexia plainly pokes your nose.  "I love you, and whilst I am so incredibly sad you are going to be leaving, it is not forever. I will visit you, you will visit me.”
"But it won't be the same." Your voice was a broken whisper.
Alexia clears her throat softly as her eyes grow shiny with tears. "I know," she murmurs, taking both your hands in her own and squeezing softly. "But we will get through this, sí? You are strong, and I am strong. We will be strong together until we are no longer apart."
"Strong together." you mimic, and Alexia nods with a sad smile on her face. You attempt to mimic that too, but you find it difficult to do thanks to the way your bottom lip was trembling. The first tear falls before you could stop it, and Alexia blows out a shaky breath as she pulls you back into her arms.
Yeah, this was going to suck.
*
So yeah. Alexia loves you so terrifyingly much that she was willing to risk your relationship by being approximately nine hundred and twenty nine miles apart. You had faith you would be just fine, but a small part of you, way way deep down was sure it would end up crashing and burning right in front of your eyes. Long distance relationships were hard, and yes, you loved each other, but would that really be enough in the long run? Would love really be enough to survive who knows how many years apart with only the occasional visit until your contract at Arsenal ended?
You'd voiced your worries to Alexia who had been quick to assure you that whilst your fears were valid, they were wrong. That it was just your brain, again, jumping to the worst case scenario because you were anxious about leaving. She'd assured you that love was most definitely enough, so long as you communicated with one another which was something you were both thankfully pretty damned good at.
From that moment forward, you make the most of what time you have left together. You go on dates that last all day, visiting all the places in Barcelona you’d fallen in love with. You spend hours in bed, skin against skin as your favourite movie plays in the background. You even make the drive over to Alexia’s childhood home and spend the day with her family as one final farewell.
Your team was told about your transfer just two weeks before you leave, tearful hugs being shared with the ones you were most close to. Mapi had all but clung to you throughout the entirety of your last training session, Ingrid having to coax her into letting go when it was time to head back home.
You play your last game a few days later, playing the entire ninety minutes and scoring three goals with the assistance of Aitana. When the whistle had blown, your entire team had surrounded you, murmuring their praises and pulling you into hugs so tight you struggled to catch your breath. You tightly clutch the crest on your chest as your eyes skim around the arena, meeting the tearful yet smiling faces of the fans who were cheering so loudly for you it was the only sound you could hear.
This was it. Your time at Barça was over, and what a ride it had been.
**
Tags:
@codiemarin @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @ceesimz @liloandstitchstan @xxnaiaxx @marysfics @alexias-putellas
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crescenthistory · 5 days ago
Note
hi angel!!!! absolutely adore your blog and especially the way you write for regulus 🥹🥹 makes my heart so happy, like that’s baby boy!!!! thank you so much for sharing with us!!! i have a prompt request but only if you feel so inclined!!! number d8 “where is she?" with regulus, pretty please, like maybe something happens to reader and he is the last to find out (busy w quidditch or prefer things) so when someone finally tracks him down being like your girl needs you, his composure is for once non existent and he is panicking!!!! ughhh hurt/comfort with reg is everything!!! anyway only if you feel my up to my love no pressure ever - love your blog regardless 💗💗💗
hi my love<33 this is hands down the sweetest request i have received, thank you so much for being so kind 🤍🤍 i genuinely appreciate your words so much! as for the request, i adore some hurt/comfort with reg, and this is an idea i've had for a while, so it was so fun to write
Prompt: D.8 "Where is she?"
Words: 6k
Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, severe injury (happens off screen, explained and treated on screen), lacerations, typical regulus anxiety (overworked), best friends to lovers, pomfrey being a badass, snape is a villain, animal abuse (technically), background marlene, rosekiller, etc.
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It was common knowledge that Slytherin quidditch practice was never to be disturbed, especially this close to the final match of the season against Gryffindor.
This was Regulus’ first year as captain and he was determined for it to be written in the history books as a victorious one, to make himself deserving of the title. Playing opposite his brother and his best friends didn’t lessen the pressure much, either. 
He knew he had been pushing the team quite hard, but he also knew that if anyone could handle it, it was them. Evan and Barty funnelled all their chaotic energy into quidditch once they realised just how much it mattered for their mate, and Dorcas had just as much to gain from winning against Marlene as Regulus had against Sirius. Fenwick had had his skull bashed in by enough bludgers in his career to not be able to formulate any complaints, even if he had them. The rest of the team were relatively young players, a risk most others had chastised Regulus for taking, but one that was playing off beautifully – and with those rumours, they wanted to prove themselves, too. 
There really was little problem with this arrangement, he told himself, other than the fact that he was perhaps wearing himself a bit thin when balancing it all with his prefect duties and exams.
And, more importantly, missing you.
You had been the best friend he could have asked for during this hectic year of his, always standing by his side, just as much of a loyal team-player as those on his actual sports team. That unwavering dedication you had shown him over the years that taught him that maybe, just maybe, he was capable of being loved – and most definitely of loving, because Regulus would be damned if he didn’t admit that that was the only appropriate word for how he felt about you.
Not that he had told you that yet, though, and neither had you. It was never the right time, and you both knew, at least to some degree. For now, it was enough. You had each other, always, and it was enough. He told himself as much, at least.
Regulus was trying to zero his thoughts back on his team running through their plays off-broom on the ground, looking for any weakness in their formation, when the cardinal rule of not disturbing practice was broken.
“Black!” A voice shouted as it ran across the pitch from the school. 
Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the pestering fourth year away, one of those who just seemed to always be there, nameless and bothersome. It was to little avail, though, judging by the sounds of his heavy steps hitting the still somewhat moist dirt on the field.
“Black, I have to–”
“We are in the middle of a practice!” Regulus cut the kid off, letting his nerves get the better of him as he saw most of his players stop in the midst of what had been their best run-through so far. “Unless someone has died, it can wait.”
“But–”
“Has someone died?” Regulus had his hands on his hips, half aware that he looked way too much like his older brother as he regarded the student-shaped owl in front of him with derision. 
“No, but–”
“Are someone in the midst of dying? Like within the hour?”
“N– no.”
“Then you may leave.” The student looked thoroughly confused, clearly not having been properly warned by whoever sent him as a make-shift owl that this was the only response he would be getting from Regulus. He could vaguely hear you whispering poor boy in his mind, always advocating for Regulus’ softer side, but right now he pushed it away as he turned back to his teammates. “Whatever it is will still be there when we are finished up here.”
Regulus didn’t wait for him to go before he began to pretend he was air, attention fully on his team once more.
Barty snickered as he tried to lean his chin on Evan’s shoulder, only to have the taller boy fully shove him off. Regulus shook his head, ignoring the crestfallen student beside him as he tried to increase his energy levels back to where they needed to be.
“Okay, that last round was getting closer to where we want to be. Ready to take to the sky for the last few minutes?”
When he finally stepped foot inside the quidditch locker rooms, Regulus sped through his shower routine. He was eager to get out of there and back to the dorms quick enough to have sufficient time to spend with you before going to sleep. He had half a mind to ask you to sleep in his bed tonight, but he wondered if that might be pushing it since you just did that a few nights ago. Nothing ever happened, of course, you were just the best of friends – and even if you had been something more, it was hard for anything to happen with Evan and Barty in the same room.
You just brought him a sense of peace he found himself craving more day by day. He wished to squeeze out every ounce of it he possibly could.
His hair was still wet, bag thrown about as haphazardly over his shoulder as he could allow himself to without spiralling – which is to say, he still looked perfectly polished to anyone but him. He turned to give the team lingering behind an attempt at an emphatic great work today that ended up falling a bit short from his hoarse voice. Thankfully, everyone else seemed tired enough to accept it without reservation, and Regulus could exit the changing room before all but running towards the Slytherin dorms. 
On his way there, he passed through the Great Hall, attempting to slow his stride to look a bit more composed, but quite ready to throw all of it away for the night just to curl up with you.
“Re- Regulus?!”
Sirius’ incredulous voice sounded behind him, and though Regulus loved his brother dearly, he took a deep sigh at the disturbance, knowing that, with him, it would likely not be a short one.
“That would be me.” Regulus turned around with a sarcastic half-smile, only for it to waver when he saw the expression on Sirius’ face. 
There was an evident tension in his face when he looked Regulus up and down, as if trying to figure him out while a thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Sirius’ lips were pressed tight, as if holding back a severe frown and his eyes were decidedly clouded with worry.
“Reg, what are you doing here?” His voice conveyed more confusion than upset, but both were woven into his tone.
“I’m… on my way to Slytherin? We just finished practice.” 
It was as if Sirius found an answer to his confusion as his face settled into a form of defeat. “You don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” Regulus stared his brother down, heart speeding up in his chest, but he could feel it in his whole body. “What is it, Siri?”
“James sent someone to tell you,” Sirius says, speaking more to himself.
“Tell me what?” Regulus’ patience was worn thin by his pulse straining his skin.
“Uh, it’s Y/N.” Pangs shot through his body, pulling every vein taut. “She– she will be fine, don’t worry, but–”
“Where is she?”
Regulus struggled to make out where Sirius stood in front of him as the world seemed to tunnel around him and his mind was immediately elsewhere, immediately with his best girl, imagining any possible horror that might have overcome you. Had it not been for Sirius’ delivery of the news and the way he looked at Regulus, he might have felt more calm. But he had always known his big brother to be more composed than this.
“The infirmary–”
He didn’t need to hear more before he was running at full speed down the hallway.
Little to nothing registered with Regulus on the way to the infirmary, that he for the first time in his life realised was located painfully far away from the Great Hall. Illogical, given how many students go through there throughout their days. 
He felt lighter than ever as he was entirely certain he had never run this quickly in his life, simultaneously as every limb felt heavy with worry. 
She will be fine is only reassuring if he was concerned you had died – in every other scenario it is the worst thing to hear, because it confidently means you are not fine right now.
Regulus is half aware that he has run through two ghosts, into one student and past a professor – he thinks maybe Flitwick? – but he paid none of them any mind, willing to take the point deductions or even detentions, if only they don’t slow him down. He can deal with everything and anything else later. 
When he finally reached the door to the infirmary, it took everything in him to come to a halt. 
He all but crashed into the door, catching himself with one hand on the doorframe as he breathed heavy, giving himself but two seconds to collect himself, lest he be banned from the infirmary by life by Madam Pomfrey. That was not something he could afford right now.
Still heaving, he opened the door and took two steps inside – before his vision became entirely swamped by that very same woman, standing with her hands on her hips.
“Is she here?” He tried to get out before she could say anything.
“No visitors at the moment,” Madam Pomfrey said sternly.
“Please, is she here?” Regulus couldn’t even think to say your name, but the look on the matron’s face told him she knew.
“She is, and she is alright, but there will be no visitors at the moment.” Her voice was a bit softer now, but she was not relenting and she was not moving.
Regulus’ breath picked back up, and he didn’t register the tears that were forming in his eyes. A choked please was forming on his tongue when–
“Please.”
You beat him to it. Your meek voice sounded from a few curtains down behind Madam Pomfrey. Regulus didn’t hear the noise that escaped him when he heard the soft pain in your usually chipper voice, but the matron did. Still, it seemed to be on your account and not the lovestruck, fear-sickened boy in front of her, that she took a step to the side.
“Only you, and it must be brief.”
Her words were mostly caught by the air that Regulus left in his wake the moment she moved to the side, because as soon as he could he was by the curtain he had heard you speak from behind, ever so gently pulling it to the side.
“Oh, mon amour.”
The sight he was faced with both mended and broke his heart – because you were there, awake and already looking at him, but your forehead and right arms were bandaged and your face bore telltale signs of pain. He could see tear tracks down your delicate cheeks, mascara smudging just barely beneath your eyes. You looked happy to see him, he could see your chest heave a breath of relief, but that was about the only positive thing he could decipher in you at the moment.
At last, his movements were measured and careful again, but for once not for the sake of how he was perceived, but rather to not disturb the space around you, as if that could lessen your pain. He barely managed to close the curtain behind him with trembling hands, giving you a semblance of privacy, even in this infirmary that he had no idea hosted how many others.
There was enough space on the left side of the bed beside you for Regulus to take his rightful place by your side, as close as he dared. His eyes kept jumping all over your body and face, breath hitched.
Your name escaped his lips in a small breath as his eyes widely roamed your form.
He didn’t realise his hand was hovering between you before you reached up to him with your left hand and took it in yours. Your grip was weak and the tips of your fingers cold, but it was still the smooth skin he was used to feeling on his.
Upon your touch, he seemed to be brought back down to earth and the welling tears spilled down his cheeks.
“Oh, Reggie,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, I’m alright.”
“My poor love,” he whispered back, letting his free hand move up to lightly caress your cheek, brushing some damp hair away. It must have gotten wet when Pomfrey tended to whatever wound was bandaged on your upper forehead. “What happened to you, amour?”
Regulus often referred to you with terms of endearment, you knew you were each other’s person, but the absolute softness of them now broke your heart a little.
“It was…” you trailed off, wincing as you scrunched your brows in confusion and consequently pulled on your bandage. “It was an accident.” The sound that escaped you was almost a laugh, but it was too wet and strangled to truly be classified as such.
“What happened?” Regulus’ voice urged, more desperate than before. He held your hand tighter, bringing it closer to his chest, as if to protect it.
“We were helping Kettleburn – unwillingly mind you –”
“Who are we?” Regulus cuts you off, still seeming rather feverish in his desperation to know what was wrong. You squeezed his hand and smiled at him to calm him down. 
“An unfortunate bunch of us who happened to be enjoying the fresh air by the benches. Me, Lily, Marlene, Snape, Avery and some others we don’t really know too well, mostly fourth years.”
Regulus scowled at the mention of Snape and Avery, but nodded, as if encouraging you to continue.
“Kettleburn needed some help preparing bait. He believed there was a hippogriff in the Forbidden Forest that he wanted to draw out. It worked a bit too well, a bit too well.”
His brows scrunched at that. “But hippogriffs are mainly peaceful unless you disturb them?” Unease was growing in his stomach.
“Yes, that’s what I said as well,” you feel a bout of dizziness come over you, but try and speak through it. “We were down, probably a bit too close to the forest when it came out. I tried to push the bait towards it carefully, keeping my distance. It just wanted food, you know.”
“But?”
“But Snape and Avery freaked. When it took a step closer, just to eat – they let curses fly, kneejerk self defence reaction they said.”
Regulus had to be mindful to not hurt your hand as his fists clenched on reflex. He settled for holding the sheets beside him disturbingly hard instead – he had already pieced together what happened. “You were still in the line of fire,” he concluded, eyes darkening.
“Yes,” you whispered weakly. “It would have been fine, if it had only been a stupefy or something, but Snape shouted something else, some freak hex. It was like being slashed with a knife all over.”
Regulus’ breath hitched as he let his eyes travel from gauze to gauze. His fingers came up to linger near a particularly large bandage that travelled from your shoulder in under your hospital gown. “All over?” His voice was a mere whisper before he finally looked in your eyes again. He found them teary, and his heart clenched painfully.
“Yeah, I– The biggest one is across my stomach. Pomfrey has patched me up nicely, but it was, uh, it wasn’t good.”
He can’t fight the new tears that spill as he whispers my girl before carefully shuffling closer to you to give you a hug, or at least as close to one you could get right now. His cheek is pressed into yours, his hand on the back of your head, and you can hear him cry directly into your ear, drawing tears from you as well. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into you. “So sorry, amour.”
“Reggie, there was nothing you could do,” you try to look at him, but his grip on your head remains steadfast.
“No, I should have been there. I’m so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your upper cheek, and his lips are wet. “I should’ve been there.”
“Reg, there was no way anyone could have known.”
He pulls back slightly, looking you over to see if he was hurting you before settling in with his forehead against yours – making sure to avoid the wound in the top left. When his eyes look into yours, you feel a sense of calm finally wash over your body that had been riddled by the shock of being torn open. A grey safe haven.
“I’m sorry, amour.” He keeps saying it like a prayer.
You try to shake your head, but wince at the action. His hand immediately shoots up to your jaw, to still your head. Protecting you, even from yourself. “You’re not allowed to be sorry, Reg, you didn’t do anything. You can only feel sorry for me, which isn’t quite that hard. I look pathetic right now.”
Your half-hearted attempt at humour doesn’t seem to drag him from his despair as his eyes keep searching your face, flitting from the tears to the deviating makeup. His thumb, ever so carefully, drags under your eye to wipe away some of the mascara there. You lean into his touch.
“They tried to tell me, but I– I didn’t know, so I didn’t listen and–”
“You were at quidditch practice,” you cut him off. “Everyone knows you can’t be disturbed then.”
Regulus looked at you incredulously. “This is disturb-worthy, you – anything with you is always the biggest priority. I’m sorry.”
“One girl versus preparing for the match of your life? Hm, I think it’s good you weren’t distracted.” You are determined to lighten his mood, the sinch of his eyebrows and worry in his eyes were beginning to make you feel sick for him.
“But you’re my girl,” he says in a low voice, stressing the words as if to pour additional meaning. “You’re my best friend, my everything. Y/N, you are everything.”
You struggle to come up with a response to that. Any mask Regulus switches between is completely discarded in this small infirmary section with you. When he holds your face and looks at you, you know what it is.
Unable to speak over the lump in your throat, you just drag his face closer to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, as always.
Except this time, while your lips linger on his cheek, Regulus uses his hand still on your jaw to angle your face towards his. With your lips millimetres apart, he looks from them to your eyes, searching for something, and then back down. He whispers another soft everything before pressing his lips to yours.
For all the times you had thought of kissing Regulus, nothing compared. You never expected there to be salty from tears, you never imagined his scent in your nose to be swirled with the disinfectant covering everything around you – but he was right, it was everything. His lips were unbelievably soft against yours, even as he pushed himself even closer to you, as if he needed you underneath his skin, not just on top of it. The pinky underneath your jaw digs into your skin, and you can feel your pulse beat against his finger.
When Regulus pulls away, your mouths are still essentially connected, slightly parted, just breathing into each other. You open your eyes and find him looking at you with nothing short of love.
“I–”
“I love you.” You cut him off, smiling a bit as he half feigns indignance before it turns soft once more.
“I love you, belle fille.”
“I know.”
Finally, finally he gives you a genuine smile. It eases your nerves more than even his eyes could, and you feel yourself melting back into your pillow. Unfortunately, comfort makes you even more aware of the pain and soreness in your body, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, mostly to himself it seems.
“I won’t allow that.” You tug your intertwined hands closer to you, wanting to share the comfort with him. “I’m alright, Reggie.”
“You’re wounded and bandaged.”
“And I’m perfectly okay.”
He gives you an as if look, but it’s good enough for you, for now. Then his face twisted into something darker and you saw the same desperation from earlier bubbling to the surface.
“What happened to Snape? And Avery?” His hold on you is still soft and caring, but the rest of his body has grown stiff, mind racing with imagined visions of what went down and of what he would do with them in return.
“Nothing yet,” you said with a careful, measured voice. “Kettleburn wanted to ease the situation first, but since it was technically his fault for bringing us along unprompted, I’m not sure what would be done. Detention maybe?”
“Yeah, Kettleburn’s an idiot for that, but Snape was the one who used an unorthodox and probably dark hex. He has to be dealt with.”
Though you don’t condone how fast some of your friends resorted to revenge and violence, even you had to admit that the idea of Snape knowing magic like that didn’t sit right with you either. There was no situation you could imagine where a slasher spell like that would be moral in combat. 
“I’m sure they will deal with him tomorrow,” you settle on. “Tonight the main priority seemed to be making sure I don’t bleed out on the grounds.”
Regulus’ look was pained as he pressed his lips together. “How did you get in after that anyway?”
“I don’t remember too well.” You truly didn’t, and the flashes that went through your mind were not ones Regulus would be better off knowing about. “Kettleburn shushed the Hippogriff back into the forest – it thankfully didn’t get severely injured it seemed – while everyone else panicked. Lily and Marlene were the first ones by my side.”
You both smile absentmindedly at that. When you first befriended Lily through your study sessions at the library, Regulus had been unsure of how to approach your joint integration into his brother’s friend group, but the girls had turned out to be some of the best friends you could have asked for. 
“Oh!” you exclaim, almost straddling Regulus. “Almost forgot, but you’ll be happy to know that Marlene suckerpunched Snape before they brought me inside with a levitation spell. Pretty gnarly punch, too.”
Regulus’ smiled seemed to be less from gratification and more from endearment from you. “I think I’d like to see Snape get a little more than a punch for what he did to you. But that’s a great start, darling.”
You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “It’s a start. And again, we can deal with all of that tomorrow. I don’t have the energy today.”
“No, no, you are the only priority right now, amour.” Any mirth slipped from his face as he studied you concernedly once more.
“I know you’re “alright”, but you’re not alright” he started. “Could you tell me where it hurt the most?” He looks over you again, as if he can map you out and fight your pain off, spot by spot.
“My stomach and chest got it worst,” you admit. “It’s growing more sore, but Madam said I could get more pain relief in just a little while.”
“Well, she also said I could only stay here for a short while,” he whispers conspiratorially, looking towards the curtain as if he expected it to be ripped back any minute. “Pretty sure we’re way past that.”
“Maybe she heard us crying like babies over a non-fatal injury and figured it was less of a hassle to leave us to it.” You squeeze Regulus’ thigh with a grin and he bites back a yelp.
“She would be wise to do so. Especially because there’s no bloody way I’m leaving.”
You don’t say much to that because you really, really don’t want him to either. You know you are fine, and for his sake you try and seem even more assured of it, but the white panic that soared through your veins those first few minutes is hard to shake. Even though you don’t want him to hold his absence against himself, you don’t like the thought of him leaving now that he was there.
“Has she said anything about a treatment plan? How long you’ll be here? She said you’re fine, so it shouldn’t be too long right?” Though Regulus looks at you as he asks his questions, you know he is already trying to piece together probable answers in his head.
“Most of our first conversation was her narrating what she was doing while I was moaning and not listening.” Your comment was off-handed, but Regulus seemed to wince at the image it painted in his head. “Sorry,” you mumbled bashfully, but he just gave you a smile.”
“Good thing I have the memory of an elephant, then.” Madam Pomfrey’s voice sounded just seconds before she ripped the curtain back and stepped into your little bubble. 
Regulus went straight into autopilot, rightening his posture and schooling his expression. You squeezed his hand tighter, so that he couldn’t pull away, but that had not even been any option in his mind. Pomfrey went through the station beside you at the speed of light, way too familiar and comfortable with these procedures.
“Miss L/N had 5 deep lacerations and several shallow ones,” she begins to recite and Regulus hangs onto every word. “The shallow wounds are almost entirely gone from the treatment already, but the more severe ones will need time to recover. She will have to stay in the infirmary overnight today and tomorrow for observation and continue to receive some medication. Among those are pain potions and salves for the wounds. Rebandage every 10 hours and apply new salves.”
“How will that affect her?” Regulus asked, probably pushing his luck with the matron.
“The pain potions will make her a bit slow and groggy, but she will still be awake. Though she should sleep.” At that she gives you a curt look over her shoulder. “The healing process for the wounds will likely be itchy and uncomfortable and she may develop a fever. We will pay particularly close attention to the stomach wounds in case she develops any infections there.”
“What are the symptoms of infections like that?”
You try and pat Regulus’ leg to say down, boy, but he doesn’t give you the time of day, instead focusing fully on any and all information the matron is willing to share with him. You had half a mind to joke that this was private medical information, but let it be.
Madam Pomfrey turns to Regulus at his fourth question, putting her hands on her hips as she measured him closely. It seemed like she decided on something and the next second she exited through the curtains again. You and Regulus barely had time to exchange a glance before she came back and threw a white coat at Regulus who catched it bewilderedly.
“Seems like I’ve got myself an assistant for the remainder of her stay, haven’t I, Mr. Black?”
A slow smile spreads across Regulus’ face before he hurries on the coat. “Yes, Madam.”
Pomfrey talks you – and now, Regulus – through the new pain potion she is about to give you, giving brief background on the ingredients, application and effect when the door to the infirmary slams open, decidedly louder than when Regulus entered earlier. Her eyes squeeze shut, as if pained by the disrespect and incredulity of students, but finished giving you the potion.
“That is no way to enter an infirmary, Mr. Crouch,” she says through half-gritted teeth as she works. She waves at Regulus to open the curtain to your bed, revealing Barty, Evan and Dorcas, all heaving as if they have been running too. “You seem to be particularly loved, Miss L/N. Please never get injured again, it disturbs my workspace.”
Your friends’ eyes are wide as they take in your form where you lay, still rather pathetically, in your bed. 
“Merlin’s tits, what happened?” Dorcas asks.
At the same time Barty’s gaze flits between you and Regulus. “Who?” he asks, while looking at you.
“I–” you start, but that was clearly the wrong answer because he then immediately turns to Regulus instead.
“Who?”
There is no hesitation in Regulus’ voice. “Snape.”
Barty’s face morphs from shock and concern into pure determination. He stalks over to you in three wide steps, pressing a quick kiss to the safe side of your forehead, whispering a quiet take care, Treasure, before turning around and dragging Evan out of the infirmary. The other boy’s jaw was ticked shut and went more than willingly.
Even you felt a bit bad for Snape in that moment.
Madam Pomfrey, however, only breathed a sigh of relief that they left so quickly.
Dorcas comes up between you and Regulus, sitting on the very edge of your bed. Pomfrey, with Regulus’ assistance return to the work on your bedside station, though his eyes are on you almost the whole time. He has that furrow between his brows that shows up whenever he focuses intently, and you are torn between wanting to kiss it and draw it.
“We met Marls and Lily in the hallway,” Dorcas explains. “They got halfway through their story before Junior took off with us on leash behind us.”
“Sounds like him,” you laugh, trying to hide how the rumble hurts you. “But really, I’m totally fine. Or, I’m relatively good, and will soon be alright.”
“Yeah, especially when you’ve got two nurses to tend to you,” Dorcas teases, casting Regulus a knowing sideways glance.
“Pardon you, Miss Meadows; I am a Healer.” 
You can’t help the snort that escapes you. Despite never wanting to return to this infirmary, you had grown quite fond of the Madam.
“My deepest apologies, Madam,” Dorcas offered with a gleam in her eyes. You could have sworn you saw Pomfrey smile ever so slightly.
“But yeah, Dorc, I’m well taken care of. I’ll be fine.”
“Firstly, just because you’re wounded does not mean you can get away with calling me that.” You laugh once more, happy to not be treated like a dying animal even in such a grave hour. “Secondly, I’m glad. You deserve it, and it was about damn time.”
You pretend to not understand what the last part referred to, but you knew she got you all figured out. You squeeze her leg in a sign of admiration and, perhaps, defeat.
“Thirdly,” Regulus interjects. “You need to either not make her laugh or leave.”
Pomfrey nodded emphatically. 
“Not my fault your girl just finds me absolutely hilarious, Black.” Dorcas winks at you.
“Speaking of someone’s girl,” you drawl, trying to even the playing field, which worked, if Dorcas’ light blush was anything to go off of. “Please tell Marlene I say thank you. I don’t think I got to in the whirl of everything and then everyone was thrown out.”
Dorcas’ smile softens. “I will, babe, but you don’t have to thank her. She’s still a bit worried though, so I’ll tell everyone you’re doing fine.”
“Thanks,” you whisper through a smile, accepting Dorcas’ half-hug before she slips out of the infirmary, which finally returns to its prior quietude.
“That’s enough visitors for today!” Pomfrey explains, clapping her hands together as she is done. “Only staff and patients for the rest of the night.” She shoots Regulus and his white coat a knowing glance.
“Does that mean I can sleep?” You don’t mean for your voice to sound so meek, but the pain potion is starting to work, and the more your body relaxes, the more exhausted you realise you are.
Regulus makes a soft cooing sign, coming back to sit on the side of your bed, taking your hand in his and drawing comforting circles on its back. “Yes, amour. We have prepared the station for when we have to wake you in a few hours for reapplication.”
You groan a bit at the thought of being woken, and both your matron and her assistant laugh a bit at you. 
“Better that than affection, Miss L/N.”
“Yes, of course,” you relent, letting out a heavy sigh. “Thank you. For all of it.”
Pomfrey merely nods before gathering her things and exiting into the rest of the infirmary, pulling your curtain shut behind you. You expect that is the closest she usually gets to a you’re welcome and you accept it heartily.
Regulus shifts into a more comfortable position beside you, back against your headboard, ensuring you are as comfortable and pain-free as possible. He brings your intertwined fingers up to his lips to press delicate butterfly kisses to them. The softness of it all makes you almost want to cry again, but you bite it back, purely because you can’t stand seeing Regulus cry again tonight, and you knew he would.
“Congratulations on your promotion.” Your tire does not hide the coyness of your tone and he smiles fondly at you.
“Thank you. Think she figured it was easier that way – and I have always been a top student.”
“Yeah, yeah, you and your OWLs.” You turn your head more towards him, smiling. “Such a nerd.”
“I reckon you like that about me.”
“I reckon the same.”
You lean forward and he meets you halfway for a slow kiss. The casualness of it makes it feel all the more important, especially when the past few hours of your life has been anything but.
He leans his head onto yours, drawing you as close as he can with your current circumstances.
“I’m sorry,” Regulus whispers again and you shake your head beneath his. Before you can tell him no, he continues. “Not just for what happened to you or not being there. Just, I don’t know. Being slow.”
“Didn’t we just agree you were bright?” you tease, but when you turn to see the sincerity in his eyes, you soften. “It’s okay, Regulus. We were both slow.”
Neither of you feel compelled to delve into the details of it, and it makes you feel more at ease. Even with everything, this was just how it was supposed to be.
“I’m glad I have you.” It is the best way to summarise it; it was enough. He smiles warmly at you.
“And I you.” 
You ignore the strain of some of your bandages as you lean closer to kiss him again, where he meets you enthusiastically – it was worth it.
“Go to sleep now, amour. I’ll be here to ease you awake when the time comes. I’ll always be here.”
And he was.
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strawbeelemonade · 1 year ago
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ROMANTIC IMAGINE: Miguel O'hara visits you when you call in sick
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i know how to write things other then headcannons i swear. theyre just so EASY. you can request actual fics lmao. promise! This was intended as romantic btw, but you can interperate this however you want!
WARNING: descripion of wounds/blood, description of burns, overprotectiveness,
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Miguel lands on your balcony with a heavy thump, his landing was a little awkward from trying to swing with only one hand, but he managed well enough. The Tupperware in his hand looked a little worse for wear, though.
Almost every fibre of him wanted to turn around and forget about this, but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to, he needed to know you were ok.
You had called off sick from work yesterday, and you didn't show up today either. In all the time you were working at Alchemex you’ve never done that before. The secretary had told him you sounded like you were in a lot of pain over the phone, so it was obvious you were unwell in some way or another. He’s been worried ever since.
This felt stupid. Over dramatic, even. But he’d gone to his brother for advice, and this is what he had given him: Their moms classic Pozole recipe, The same recipe him and his brother ate while growing up. Obviously Miguel protested, adamantly. he hadn’t cooked for anyone in a very long time. He wasn’t even sure if he’d still be able to… His brothers response?
“Do you want my help or not?”
So Miguel scrounged around the kitchen for what he needed. He squinted to read his mothers old chicken scratch from all those years ago. He put in the work, as uncomfortable as he felt, And He packaged it and come all the way here.
And now he didn’t know how to go forward.
He had never felt more out of his element in his life. As he Stood outside your window with the soup in his freakish claws he realised he didn’t know where to go from there. He hadn’t thought further than this point. What would he say when he gave it to you? What would he even do after that?
He had to awkwardly shimmy through the window with the Tupperware in one hand, almost stepping on a cable stretching across the floor. “Fuck—“
the hinges creaking offensively as he pushed down your open window and he cursed, shutting it as delicately as possible. When he heard your voice ring out from behind him he tensed.
“Uh, Hey Miguel!” You call from the bathroom. He breathed out the puff of air he was holding in. No turning back now.
“…Hey,” he called, not knowing where to begin. “…I brought you a little something.”
He makes his way to where he heard your voice coming from, and pauses briefly by your kitchen counter. He looks down at the soup in his hands.
…He could just leave it here, that would be less humiliating for everyone, wouldn’t it? He knew you were ok, now. He heard your voice, so you were alive. He did what he came here to do. He could turn around right now and escape while you were still in the bathroom.
But something stops him. A little smell wafted by his nose briefly. It was brief. It was faint. But it was there and it made him pause.
So he sits the soup on the counter quietly, but he doesn’t turn around. He walks further down the hall and takes a deep breathe. The smell is clearer now. Miguel gets a bad feeling.
He picks up the pace and pulls off his mask to get a better whiff, and suddenly he’s hit with the all too familiar stifling stench of blood.
No.
NO!
“Y/n!” He runs up to your bathroom door and starts rattling the handle, but the door is locked. He pauses when he hears your voice on the other side, clearer and more effective at preventing him from tearing the door off its hinges—.
“D-Don’t come in!” You yell. “I’m... ngh- I’m a bit busy in here!”
“Y/n, what do I smell?!” He doesn’t need you to tell him, He already knows the answer. It’s pungency rings clear from his side of the door. The tanginess was so prominent that even someone with normal senses could pick up on it.
“N-nothing!” You stutter. You always stutter when you’re nervous. And when you're lying.
“Are you bleeding? Where’s it coming from? Open up!” He starts banging on the door again, his fist unintentionally rattling the frame.
“You don’t smell anything- stop that!” You snapped, annoyance ringing clear. But there was a certain strain to your voice, a painful whine that made his heart drop. “I-I’m just, uh- changing! will you give me a minute? Please, Miguel.”
“Don’t lie to me! What’s wrong, can you not get to the door?” He starts backing up to gauge the frame of the door and… Yeah, he could kick that in, easily.
sensing what he was getting ready to do, you spring up from your spot hunched over on the side of the bath tub and amble to the bathroom door. “No no no!” You lean against the door, heaving. “Don’t do anything drastic, I’m right here!”
He paused and waited for you to open it, but your hesitation makes him start losing his patience. “Y/n-“
“I’m ok, Miguel. S-seriously. I just took a little tumble on the way home.” You swallow back a painful grunt as you lean on the door frame for more support. “Look…” you started. “Now’s really not a good time—“
“Y/n.”
You shut your mouth. ‘Oh, shit.’
the tone of his voice hid a warning. Miguel knew what you were going to suggest even before you said it, and he refused to let you finish. The fact that you were bleeding as much as you were for him to smell you across the house, And you were trying to hide it from him? It must be bad, there was no doubt about that. His brain began racing for answers, for explanations, for names. He didn’t know where you were hurt, god what if it was somewhere vital? Who did this to you and where? Why were you trying to hide it? Did they threaten you? Something must of happened. there was no way he would leave you here, No. There was no getting rid of him now.
“Open this door.” He says one final time. And you can tell it’s the final time from the tone of his words. His voice quaked with fury at even the mere insinuation that he’d ever leave you when you were wounded. That you were even wounded In the first place.
“Now.”
...
There’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything. And for a second he thinks he’s going to have to break the door open inwards just to avoid plowing over you to get it open. But then he hears you apprehensively turn the lock and he almost breaks the handle from how fast he rips it open.
You stumble a bit, reeling at his strength. and then youre taking a tumble from being thrown off balance, but before you can even yelp out a cry he swoops in to catch you in his arms before your body can even comes close to hitting the floor. “Lo si—! Sorry! Y/N, I’m so sorry.”
from being so close he could tell immedietely that you were running warm, did you really have a fever too? He perches you on to the toilet seat and you wince at the ache washing through your body. God, your back was killing you... and Miguel's hands were all over you. you tried pulling your arms out of his grip, but he wasn't budging. he scoured your front for bruises, cuts, anything.
"what happened, where does it hurt, Y/N, please." he lifted your arms, checking your sides. nothing there... You couldn't bring yourself to answer, all the jostling around was making you go really dizzy... so much so that his words seemed to bounce off your ears. you squint at him. were there two of him before?
"Oi, mami/papi. focus for me. tell me where your hurt." he pats your cheek, snapping you a little out of your stupor. you blinked. his faced was pulled taught with worry, lines creased his skin in places that looked almost painful. and his eyes...
"Miguel... hhhave... your eyessschanged?" you weren't sure if it was the delirium from the pain finally setting in, or if your bathroom light just highlighted the underlying hues, but his tired brown eyes had shifted to a shade of... dare you say red.
they flicked back to your face, they had this wild look in them, like he was angry. but his voice wobbled like he was scared. "tell me where the pain is."
"... M' back.." you mumbled. he tugs on your shoulder to twist you around, making you whine. he apologizes quietly, before turning back to the red stains that were crawling up the back of your shirt.
you both descended into a tense silence. Miguel looked cramped, hovering over you in your tiny bathroom. he had to draw in his arms to not knock into your shower. not the most ideal place to play nurse... but he would manage. Miguel unshealthes his talons and cuts open the fabric like its warm butter. all you feel is a cold draft hit your back, and you shudder.
when he gets a good look at the state of your back his heart drops, what he finds isn't what he was expecting. your lower back is marred with an explosion like mass of burned skin. the center of the wound is deeper and more bloody then the rest, like something fast, blunt and burning hot struck you there.
God.
"Y/N, what the hell happened?" he glances at your bathroom bin and spots your old, scorched shirt lying inside. so you really were changing... that explained why the shirt you were wearing didn't have a massive gaping hole in it.
"Lyla. whats the aetiology for this." she flickers into view next to him, screening your back, and she winces.
"the lascerations have been caused by 1st and 2nd degree burns, the wound has become infected and needs to be treated immediately. the depth of the wound is telling me that the collision was hard and fast, likely a projectile."
"they were shot?."
"most likely. not by any normal weapon though, obviously." she confirmed, "it... doesn't look like the infection has interfered with the spinal collum." she optimistically added.
"will it scar?" he tilted his head towards her, but didn't take his eyes off the wound.
the Ai assistant didn't respond, calculating the most nerve settling response to his question. her silence told him everything he needed to know. "yeah, don't answer that." a snarl was building in his throat, fighting its way to the top.
he spots the first aid bag and its contents sprawled across your counter. most of it was over the counter painkillers, light ointments and bandaids. nothing in there that would help you.
"ok." he drags his hand down his face looking around the room. "Hijo de puta-!" his fist banged against the wall in a burst of anger, the pathetic thin walls rattled underneath the force. "Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?!"
you were stuck in this apartment by yourself, barely able to move or, jesus, even think. the fact that he could have never come… No, that he had come but couldve left here without knowing you were going through this on your own... the thought made him sick. why did you let it get this bad? what had happened?
you don't answer his question, your breathing has started to grow heavier, fevered. the sheen of sweat on the back of your neck had grown thicker as well. miguel reaches out to hold you steady. his mind racing. you can't stay here.
he knows he has to make a call. literally. he lifts his watch to his face.
"Jess, get someone on the medical team to prepare for my arrival." he picks you up carefully and fights to keep his voice from rising, he wasn't thinking clearly. all he could think about was getting you somewhere safe.
it wasn't common for miguel to ask for medical assistance, even at times when he probably should. he didn't like calling for help, he prefered to do things on his own, even to his own detriment. the idea that something could shake miguel up like this, making him ask for assistance, was new. Jessica could hear the tension in his throat as clear as day.
"whats your condition." she responded, concern shining through in her voice.
"no, no. i'm fine." he answered. "i've got an injured with me, they've been shot and need first aid immedietely. its a second degree burn that been left for over 24 hours, its infected."
"...done." she answers. "are they a new recruit?"
"they're a friend."
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Pozole: a traditional soup or stew that is made from hominy with meat, you can put in things like shredded lettuce/cabbage, chilli peppers, onions, garlic, radishes, avocado, salsa or limes. (this sounds scrummy ngl i'm so hungry bro)
"Lo siento": i'm sorry (this is when he goes "Lo si-" but cuts himself off)
"Oi, mami": hey, Mama (i learned that mami or mamita can be used in a lot of different ways. native spanish speakers can use it to adress parentel figures, friends that give motherly energy, or it can even be used as a funny nickname for kids. i've seen a lot of people use it sexually in fics, but apparently thats not always the case!)
aetiology: kind of like a diagnosis, but different. its the cause of a desease or condition. idk if it's applicable to wounds, though.
"Hijo de puta-!": son of a bitch-!
I put these here so if anyone has any corrections i could make to the terms I’ve used to be more accurate then I can change them accordingly. I used online translators and articles… if anyone has any good websites for translating languages let me know! i'd be really interested.
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multifandomimagin3s · 1 year ago
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The Reader gets hurt whilst saving them - 141, Los Vaqueros + Konig
Requested by Anon
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Simon's a complicated person, so it's hard to decipher what's going on inside his head - even people who've worked alongside him for years never truly know what he's thinking.
He never lets himself get emotional - well, any other emotions aside from anger are rarely shown.
Case and point - his initial reaction when he sees the blood seeping out of a bullet-wound in your side.
A bullet that was meant for him but you shoved him out of the way.
He stares at you for a millisecond, gaze unreadable, before he grapples you as you're about to fall to the floor.
"What the fuck did you do that for, you tit?!"
Charming, right?
He quickly realises that his angry screaming is falling on deaf ears, as you faded in and out of consciousness.
All he can do is stare as your face begins to pale from blood loss, relaying what had happened to Price over the comms.
He continues to stare at you as you're loaded onto the helicopter, strapped to a gurney with a Medic keeping constant pressure on your wound.
On the outside, he looks utterly livid - and he is.
Doesn't matter if he's your Superior, or vice versa - regardless of rank he'd have chewed you out for doing something so foolish and reckless all the same, even at the expense of a write-up.
But seeing you in the medical wing, bandaged up in a hospital bed, in critical condition, it makes a cocktail of emotions swirl in his stomach.
And he doesn't like it, not one bit.
Why save his life at the expense of your own? He doesn't understand that at all, and honestly he doesn't think he's worthy of it either.
He's by no definition an angel and has done things that would probably give Satan himself an aneurysm, so the fact that you put yourself in harms way like that just doesn't sit right with him at all.
The entire ordeal would probably keep him up til the early hours of the morning, thinking - he knew he harboured a certain amount of feelings for you, but he never realised just how much.
If it had been a new recruit or any other military personnel, he probably wouldn't have cared as much - unless it was someone from his own Team, in which case he probably still wouldn't be loosing sleep over "their own fucking stupidity."
It had been almost a week since the incident and he was still trying to wrap his head around it all.
But all he could do was visit you, waiting at your bedside for you to wake up - to an onslaught of questions and probably another barrage of swearing for being so "bloody stupid" and to "never pull that stupid shit again."
He can try and deny his feelings all he wants, but he knows the truth - he can lie to others but he can't lie to himself.
Johnny "Soap" MacTavish
He's a complete contrast to Ghost - where Ghost hides his feelings under layers and layers of denial and a gruff demeanour, Soap is an open book.
He's been openly flirting with you since the day you met, and was planning on making his move to ask you on a date as soon as you got back after the mission.
But seeing you with a ballistic knife sticking out of your shoulder, slumping back against a wall for support, really put a spanner in the works.
The enemy had spotted Soap crouched down planting some C4 and explosives, and had timed their throw to aim for his neck as he stood up - but they hadn't seen you.
You jumped in front of Johnny, shooting the enemy with quick precision but at a cost.
"Aw, for fuck sake!"
Luckily, the knife didn't pierce anything important, so with a good number of stitches and bandages you were good to go.
But an angry Scotsman stood at the door to the medical wing, eyebrows knitted together as he watched the Nurse put clean dressings on your wound.
"Don't ever dae that again," Johnny grunted, arms crossed across his chest. He didn't want to be too hard on you, given that Price had all but screamed at you the moment you were dragged onto the helicopter for being "a reckless fucking muppet."
Johnny didn't want anyone risking their life like that, for him - especially not you.
A smirk tugged at his lips, as his hand thumbed the bandages that wrapped down from your shoulder to just below your elbow," Cannae take you out if someone takes you out, can a?"
Captain John Price
To say that he's angry at you would be the understatement of the century.
Doesn't hide it either.
Even if you were already in a relationship at this point, he's going to be vocal about his anger - but the words he chooses may be slightly less abrasive.
"Why would you do something so stupid, you muppet?!"
The enemy had planted explosive devices as a booby trap - Soap had disarmed them all, or so he'd thought; the sneaky bastards had planted another a few feet away, which detonated and sent pieces of shrapnel flying in all directions.
Some of the shrapnel had embedded itself in your forearms and ribcage, when you'd jumped in front of your Captain to shield him.
Which led you to where you were now, with a Medic picking the pieces of metal out with tweezers - and an angry Price staring you down, arms crossed across his chest as he fixed you with a stern look.
He's been in the military for a long while and has seen a lot of stuff that would make the average person's hair curl - and he's lost a lot of people in the field that he cared about.
So for you to risk your life for his own -- he wasn't having it.
"Count yourself lucky that I won't be writing you up for this."
He has to keep up appearances - he's a high-ranking officer, and it no doubt would be frowned upon (to say the least) if it got out that he was fraternising with one of the soldiers in his team.
But in private, he's softer.
He thumbs over the bandages and dressings covering your wounds, brows knitting together in thought.
"Please don't do that again, Love - can't lose you."
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Doesn't realise what's happened until he hears your body fall to the floor with a thud.
A sniper had set their sights on taking Gaz out, laser trained on his back - he hadn't noticed, distracted with trying to hack into the enemy base's security system.
The shot shattered the window pane behind him, which made him whirl around in his chair, gun drawn - putting the pieces together in his head, he should've been in your position in that moment, but you'd taken the bullet for him.
You'd taken the bullet for him.
it isn't until Price is practically roaring through the comms at the Sergeant that he comes to, hurriedly relaying the situation to Price as he checks your vitals.
You're alive - thank god.
The evac and the flight back to base was all a blur, as you faded in and out of consciousness.
You were lucky - the bullet hadn't punctured any vital organs, so with surgery and a few transfusions you were beginning to make a recovery.
Of course Price gave you a gutting out as soon as you were well enough - but in typical Dad fashion, he gave you a slightly awkward head pat and wished you a gruff "Get well soon, (Y/L/N) - be good to see you back on your feet again."
Gaz shows up to visit you, a bouquet of flowers in hand.
He's angry at you, so naturally he has a heated discussion with you about being reckless and to never risk your life like that again - especially since it was his own fault for not being more aware of his surroundings and for not watching his six.
But he's still soft for you.
"Thank you for saving my life, Love - but don't ever fucking do that again."
Alejandro Vargas
Oof.
Out of everyone in this list, his reaction is by far the most heated.
He's angry - more than angry, he's livid.
Doesn't matter if it was a cut from a knife whizzing past you, or something more serious - he's a big guy, he can take whatever life throws at him.
But for you to jump in and take the onslaught for him, injuring yourself in the process? He's pissed.
He probably would avoid you for a while, not wanting to risk exploding into a fit of rage when he sees your injuries.
It would be Rudy who would be the voice of reason, pushing him to go and speak to you instead of stewing over his anger and guilt - guilt of not being able to stop what happened from happening.
Alej would visit you in the infirmary - he'd go into a rant, letting all of his emotions out.
And then would pull you into a kiss.
He's a passionate man and feels his feelings very deeply.
Rudy Parra
Like Alejandro, he's absolutely pissed.
Only difference between him and his comrade is how he shows it.
He's silent - so silent it's borderline scary.
He's livid - one, because you risked your life for him, and two, he's angry that you were so blasé about it.
It was as if you truly valued his life more than your own, and the thought of that alone only serves to make him angrier.
He hovers around in the medical bay while a Medic stitches your wounds closed, his arms crossed across his chest with a stoic expression.
The tension is palpable, and it's as if you can feel his blood boiling even from a distance.
It isn't until the Medic has patched you up and lets you leave that he finally speaks.
"What the fuck were you thinking, Querida / Querido?!"
Proceeds to chew you out for the entire walk back to your room - it was strange to see Rudy so heated, especially towards you, given that he was usually relatively easy going.
But then again, he got the rank of Sergeant Major for a reason.
Once he has his rant out of his system, he sighs, eyeing the bandages covering the expanse of your arm.
You were lucky to have made it back to base in one piece, after the enemy had lunged at Rudy from behind with a hunting knife - you'd jumped in the way, managing to take down the target but not without a fair amount of wounds.
Rudy gently grasped your forearm, thumbing over the soft bandages in thought.
"Please don't do that again, mi amor."
König
This guy would probably disappear for a bit when he realises what happened.
Probably to figure out his own feelings before he sees you again.
Because he's feeling a lot of emotions - anger, being one, guilt is another.
He's not used to anyone putting their own safety at risk for his sake - KorTac had hardly the healthiest of working environments, and mercenaries will typically only watch out for their own backs at the end of the day.
So the fact that you'd put yourself in harms way to keep him safe really doesn't sit right with him at all.
He feels guilty because he let it happen - he was so engrossed with plowing through all the targets he could see that he completely missed the ones that he couldn't.
But you noticed, jumping in the way - taking bullets that were meant for him.
He doesn't remember much of the mission after that - he can blame it on adrenaline and whatever other hormones were pumping through his system at the time, but he knows the real reason why.
The sight of you coughing up blood because of a bullet to the chest made the world slow down for him, his worst nightmare playing out in front of his eyes.
Lingers around the medical bay as Medics and Doctors rush around you, medical jargon flying in the air as you're hooked up to various machines.
His frequent visits don't help quell the rumours swirling around the base - that König, the not-so-gentle giant, had a thing for you - but he couldn't find it in him to care, even if his Superiors were to give him a stern lecture about it.
He makes sure he's there when you wake up - he had a lecture prepared in his head, about how what you did was reckless and stupid, and you shouldn't have risked your life for his.
But the words die on his tongue when he makes eye contact with you, and all he can do is take your hand in his - without his gloves, he was even tempted to take off his hood.
"Don't scare me like that again - ich werde dich nicht zulassen, mein Lieber."
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supernotnatural2005 · 7 days ago
Text
The Great Sam Winchester C*ck Block!
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Pairing: Dean x Reader
Summary: Dean and you have been desperate for some much needed alone time. However, a certain Winchester keeps getting in the way.
Word Count: 4106
Warnings: Smut! 18+ only! Fluff, Sam is a massive c*ck block (yes that’s a warning!)
A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since i posted anything. Life has been wild. But i miss writing so much and have a few WIP. This just happens to be the one i’ve finished! 😅 Just something fun and spicy. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome!
My Masterlist
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You sighed, head thrown back against the leather seat, back arched and legs spread wide as Dean scissored two of his thick fingers inside of you.
Soft lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and suckled at the spot behind your ear, which only added to the desperate throb of the walls of your pussy.
Your skin flushed and breathing laboured as he expertly rubbed at that spongey spot inside you, making you gasp and tense at the thrum of pleasure, tingling from the tops of your ears down to the tips of your toes.
The soft praises of; “you’re so wet”, “so beautiful” and “come for me baby”, followed by the lewd sounds of your dripping core against the harsh thrust of his digits, echoed in the small confinements of Baby’s backseat. Resulting in an ecstasy like state of desperation to reach your peak for him.
Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, the material covering his skin all but assaulted by your vice-like grip, as he brought you closer and closer to your impending crash.
You opened your eyes, gaze heated and glazed as you met fiery green orbs, drinking in your wrecked state with satisfaction and pride.
With his thumb now rubbing against your clit, you could feel your body begin to tense. The coil in your lower belly wound tight, ready to just about snap, when something over his shoulder caught your attention.
“Sam!” You gasped in an attempt to warn him. Though in your current state, it came out as more of a gasp of unmeant pleasure. But it had Dean’s fingers stilling instantly, drowning the flame he’d brought to life inside of you.
“What?” The shock was evident in his voice and the same eyes that had been filled with lust just moments ago, now laced with hurt at your outburst of his brother’s name. Made ten times worse at the fact it was whilst he was fingering you into oblivion.
Dread filled you at his harshly retracted fingers and you scrambled to explain before another fire brewed in his eyes, but this time with intent to burn rather than pleasure.
“Oh God, no baby! Sam is coming.” You guided his head in the direction of the other end on the motel’s parking lot, to where Sam was indeed approaching.
Relief flooded him like a cold drink of water quenching one’s thirst in a hot desert. His rapidly beating heart simmered somewhat at the realisation and he welcomed the soothing hand you ran through his short strands as he dropped his forehead to your shoulder.
You felt the rumble of his chuckle before you heard it, finding yourself joining in at the absurdity and worst timing ever of your boyfriend’s baby-bro.
“I guess we’re gonna have to pick this up another time.” He sighed disappointedly, but his eyes held a promise you clung to.
Sam Winchester was many things. A great hunter, empathetic and kind, your best friend. But mostly, he was the most oblivious cock block known to man.
For weeks you and Dean had been trying to have a little alone time. If it wasn’t the motel’s having only one twin room left, or a case taking its tole on you both to the point of pure exhaution, it was Sam’s impeccable timing.
You righted yourself by pulling on your discarded underwear and sleep-shorts, grimacing as the fabric met the mess between your legs.
Dean casually sucked his fingers clean of your juices, making your jaw drop and clit pulse in want.
Noticing your longing stare, he winked and slid a hand beneath his sweat pants to adjust the obvious tent, just in time for Sam to tap on the window.
“What are you guys doing out here? I tried calling you both for the past half hour.” Dean had opened the back seat and stepped out, allowing you to shuffle to the edge of the seat.
“I had a nightmare.” You lied easily as you stepped out of the car as well.
“I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you, so Dean offered to sit with me, calm me down.”
If oscars were awarded for best lie told, you’re sure you’d be up there in the nominees. It wasn’t necessary to lie to Sam but it beat, “your brother was just fingering me in the back of his car because we never have any time alone away from you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sam was sincere and his look sympathetic. It allowed for a shred of guilt to be had.
“Why were you looking for us anyway?” Dean interrupted, voice slightly rough and irritated, although Sam didn’t seem to notice.
“I found a case a couple of miles out. Three victims have turned up dead in the last week, all with their hearts missing. Sherif is calling it a vicious animal attack but, i figures we got ourselves a werewolf.”
Silence.
“And that couldn’t wait until morning.” Dean speaks up first. His agitation clear this time.
“Well, technically it is morning. It’s like five A M.” Sam shrugs like it’s nothing and you internally sigh.
“You’re right, we just lost track of time.” You force a smile and ignore Dean’s pointed look as a sudden plan forms in your mind.
“Let us freshen up and maybe you could grab us some coffee and breakfast? You know, since you’re the only one dressed and all.” You ask sweetly, hoping he takes the bait.
“Yeah sure. I was going to grab us all some breakfast anyway.” Sam offers.
Bingo.
“That’d be great, i’m starving.” You exaggerate with a hand on your stomach. In the corner of your eye, Dean gives you a funny look and it takes everything in you not to smirk.
“Okay, well i’ll see you in ten.” Sam says before making his way across the street toward the 24 hour diner.
Wasting no time, you grab Dean’s hand and roughly pull him with you toward the room.
“Woah, what in the-“ You shut him up with your lips roughly pressing to his once you enter the room. His back hitting the closed door with a dull thud.
“If you think i’m going to wait for God knows how long before i feel you inside me again. You’ve got another thing coming.” You explain in a rush as you tug his plain-black t-shirt over his head.
A smirk forms on his lips at your eagerness and Dean has to admit, it turns him on just how desperate you are.
“Oh, i like the way you think sweetheart.”
-
You sat in the backseat of baby, irritable, uncomfortable and beyond sexually frustrated.
Your attempt to finish what you and Dean had started back in the room was short lived, when Sam returned only 2 minutes later, having forgotten his wallet.
To say you were in a mood was an understatement. And the permanent scowl on Dean’s face and his white knuckling grip on the steering wheel, told you he was right there with you.
In the end, the three of you figured out who the culprit was, or should you say culprits were, relatively quickly. It was a young man, Johnny Turner who was recently turned, which explained the sloppy kills. And you later discovered the pack who’d turned him, hiding out in a cabin just outside of town.
Overall, it was a successful hunt with minimum injuries and you had prevented a young girl from being the fourth victim. But three people had still died and a young man had to spend his last moments of life as a monster he never wanted to be.
You still remember the fear and confusion in his eyes at what he’d done. But then he’d went to attack you and ended up with three silver bullets from Dean’s gun lodged in his chest.
So, when you climbed into bed that night, Dean following shortly after you as Sam lightly snored away on the bed opposite. There were no wandering hands under the covers, working each other up until you were desperate enough to find yourself back in the back seat of baby. Just silence.
All in all, Sam’s case had inadvertently been another giant cock-block in itself.
3 Days Later.
It wasn’t your most classiest moment, but you found yourself knelt on a grubby restroom floor; Dean above you with his jeans and boxers pushed down mid thigh as you took his heavy, achingly hard length into your mouth.
You could be ashamed at how horny you were. That you’d stoop so low as to pushing him into a disgusting bathroom stall; dropping to your knees and blowing him right then and there.
But after a whole day of watching him work on Baby, greased up, sweaty and watching his biceps flex as he adjusted loose bolts and nuts under the hood. It was like dangling a piece of meat in-front of a starving dog. You just had to take a bite.
After being unfairly teased all day, you had all ventured to the local dive in town. Of course, Sam came along, actually wanting to join in for once.
Despite your own sexual frustrations, you’d had a good time. Drunk Sam was a lot of fun and it was nice seeing everyone relaxed and with a smile on their face for once.
However, once Sam’s attention was preoccupied by a pretty brunette; and with a strong bout of liquid courage in your system, you’d taken advantage of the situation and summoned Dean to join you in the restroom.
You knew he was just as worked up as you were. You’d felt as much whilst playing a game pool earlier on in the night, when he’d pressed up against you, not so subtly and let you feel just how much the skirt you’d opted to wear turned him on.
So now here you were, sucking off your boyfriend in the restroom stall of a dive bar, like some horny teenager. But if his moans and grunts as he lightly thrusted his hips intime with the bobbing of your head, told you anything. It was that he was more than on board.
Your panties were beyond soaked and uncomfortable but, Dean’s laboured breath’s and flushed cheeks as you looked up at him; his balls drawing up tight in your palm as you let him fuck into your mouth, a tell tail sign he was close, had you doubling your efforts to get him there.
“Holy shit baby. Right there.” He panted as you breathed deeply through your nose and took him as deep as your gag reflex would allow. The hand holding your hair back tightened, bringing with it a sharp sting of pleasure, making you moan around him.
He was seconds away from his release, when a loud bang interrupted you. It was as if an ice-cold bucket of water had been poured over your heads.
Startled, Dean’s slick cock slipped from your lips as you jumped back in shock. The loud bang was shortly followed by a girly giggle and a mans chuckle.
You looked up at Dean, wide eyed and silently asking if he wanted you to continue, when you heard it.
The stall next you rattled as the couple stumbled inside, the sounds of lips lewdly smacking together and then a voice you’d recognise anywhere, instantly cleared your sex hazed fog and had you as dry as a desert.
It was Sam.
You’ve got to be kidding me, Dean’s look told you.
-
One week later found the three of you pulling into Bobby’s for some much needed R&R.
After a week of non stop hunts, your bruised and beaten body needed at least a long weekend to recover. And the boys were more than inclined to agree.
As soon as your feet hit the gravel outside of Bobby’s house, you sighed in relief. The drive was long and your back, legs and butt ached from the lengthy position held.
“S’good to see you idgits.” Came the gruff greeting from Bobby as he stepped out the front door. You smiled at the term that had always been more out of endearment rather than as an insult.
You were the first to make your way over and fall into his embrace. Bobby always did give the best hugs. You’d missed him, a lot you realised as he gave you a big squeeze.
Although, your wince had him pulling back immediately to assess you with concern.
“Im all good, it’s just been a long week.” You explained truthfully and though he let it go, you could see he wasn’t fully satisfied with your answer.
“Mind if i grab a shower? I need to get the stink of hours being hot-boxed with the most gassiest man alive off of me.” You jab your finger blindly in Sam’s direction and miss his offended look.
Dean however, barks out a laugh to which Sam throws him his signature bitch-face.
“Hey, she’s not wrong man. S’probably all that rabbit food you eat.” Dean shrugs innocently, but is unable to contain his amusement.
“I’m not going to apologise for eating healthy Dean. Wouldn’t kill you to eat a salad once in a while mister, two double cheese burgers with extra bacon for breakfast.” Sam sasses back, mocking Dean’s gravelly voice. And in doing so, starts the endless bickering between the two brothers.
You decide then to make your escape, passing Bobby with a thankful hand on his shoulder and an apologetic look in your eyes as you make your way inside and upstairs toward the bathroom.
You drop your duffle to the floor and rummage through for some clean clothes. Luckily, you find a faded band t-shirt that you’re pretty sure once belonged to Dean and some leggings. It’ll have to do until you can take advantage of Bobby’s washer and dryer.
You’ll have to cook dinner as a thank you, you decide before peeling off your two day old clothes; grimacing slightly at the pain in your overused muscles and possibly bruised ribs.
You turn on the shower, making sure it’s on the verge of scolding, allowing for a billow of steam to encompass the medium sized bathroom, before stepping into the tub.
At first you flinch at warm spray in contrast to your much cooler skin, but quickly melt under the pressure and warmth seeping deep into your bones.
As you stand motionless, the weight of the last few weeks, possibly months, of being tense, unsatisfied and in pain, gradually releases it’s vice-like grip on you and washes away with the muck and grime accumulated on your skin.
Bliss. Thats what this was. Pure unadulterated bliss.
You’re so enraptured with the feeling, you don’t even notice him enter the room. Nor do you hear the shuffling of clothes being removed, or the curtain pulling back for him to step inside behind you.
It’s not until the coolness of his palms makes contact with your hips, do you startle and turn to meet the vibrant green eyes of your intruder.
“You don’t mind if i join you, do you?” Dean asks. As if you had a choice on the matter, as if you’d ever refuse.
You shake your head in both amusement and in answer to his question, and turn back around as he begins to lather his palms up with the body wash you’d brought with you.
A welcoming fruity smell of strawberries invades your sinuses and you soon hum in pleasure as his large, soapy hands glide across your skin. The act is incredibly intimate without the need to initiate into anything more than Dean simply taking care of you.
However, as his slick hands wander to your front, gliding across your stomach and up to lather your breasts. A fire that had been put out one too many times, reignites within you.
You bite your lip and lay your head back against his shoulder as his hands travel back south. Your breathing grows heavier as his seemingly innocent actions spark you to life.
The feel of his smile against the side of your head, tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing though. So as a form of punishment, you subtly press back against him, smiling devilishly at the feel of his hardening length against your lower back.
His breathing shallows as you slowly gyrate your hips back against him and your pussy throbs in need of something, anything.
The famous saying, ‘great minds think alike’ had never proven more true as Dean’s right hand continues its journey, until two of his thick digits part your wet folds.
You gasp as his middle finger begins to slowly circle your clit, causing an electric jolt of pleasure to course through your entire body.
“You’re so wet already baby.” Dean husks in your ear, just as he briefly dips a finger into your dripping hole before returning the coated digit to your clit.
Adding his forefinger, Dean begins to quicken the pace of his fingers and adds pressure onto the pulsing bundle of nerves, making you cry out and twitch and convulse in his embrace.
He holds you tightly to him by wrapping his other arm around your waist, as you shake and your stance falters, gripping onto the arm wrapped around you like a life line.
“Come for me baby.” You hear him all but growl, before you feel his soft lips begin to nip and suck at the sensitive junction between your neck and shoulder. His fingers are vigorous now and the coil wound tight within in you finally snaps.
Everything goes white; your veins like molten lava, fiery hot and melting your bones as the tremors of your well- overdue orgasm course through you.
“Fuuuck.” You can’t help but moan as your tense body slowly becomes like jelly against the strength of your boyfriend. Dean holds you upright as you slowly come to and only loosens his hold when he knows you’re able to stand on your own.
For a moment you feel like you had died and gone to heaven. Utterly relaxed and boneless, you smile dopily until the numbness fades and the overwhelming need to feel him inside you takes over.
You twist in his embrace and pull his face down to crash your lips to his. It’s messy, all tongue and clashing teeth, both blinded by pure desire and pent up frustrations.
You slide a hand between your bodies and glide your hand up and down his length. He’s hard as a rock and seeping at the tip, which you gather in your palm as you continue to jerk him off.
“Shit.” He pulls away with a hiss, eyes closed tight as he presses his forehead to yours. You bite your lip as you take him in, forever impressed of the beauty that is Dean Winchester.
His hand moves to stop you suddenly and he meets your questioning look with pupils blown wide.
“I’m not gonna last if you keep it up. Need to be inside you now.” He all but growls before sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you effortlessly into his arms.
You wrap your legs securely around his waist as he pushes you against the tile. The coolness brings out a gasp that’s soon swallowed by Dean’s all consuming, toe curling kiss.
“Please.” You beg as you pull away for a needed breath. Too worked up to vocalise anything else. Dean understands you though and shifts you higher up the wall, using it as leverage as he frees an arm to guide himself into you.
Your eyes cross as he slowly descends you onto his cock. The stretch is both overwhelming and not enough at the same time as he bottoms out. It’s a feeling you’ve missed gravely and he hasn’t even moved yet.
“Holy fuck.” Dean groans deep in his throat at the feel of your tight, warm walls finally wrapped around him. A feeling he’s been starved of for too damn long.
“You feel so good baby.” You praise and cup his cheek to guide his lips back to yours. He slowly slides his way out of you until just his tip remains, before thrusting back in with a sharp snap of his hips.
The action makes you cry out breathlessly, eyes wide in the most painful pleasure. You keep your eyes locked when he does it again, mouth agape in a silent scream with each drag of his length against your sensitive walls.
He builds up a confident rhythm, hitting you in the sweet spot every time, making your toes curl and breathing labour.
“Fuck i’ve missed the feel of you.” You moan particularly loudly when he hits the right spot.
“You’re so tight and wet. Fuck.” Dean groans as he picks up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin, almost overshadowing the patter of the showers spray.
You’re close, you can feel it. Feel it in the way your lower belly clenches and limbs tense as your nerve endings spark with each thrust.
Dean’s close too. His panting breaths making way for the odd growl to slip out as he strains with effort to keep you both up. His own limbs starting to flutter in strength at his impending release.
Just as you’re about to loose it, there’s knock on the door, causing Dean to still and you to bite your lip in attempt to stop a frustrated groan.
“Hey Y/N? Have you seen Dean? I need the keys to the impala.” Sam’s muffled voice carried through the door.
Dean looks livid, but you look at him questioning eyes. ‘What do i say?’
It takes a moment, but Deans irritation fades and a sly smirk replaces it.
“I’m in here Sammy!” Dean calls out and your eyes widen in shock. However, you’re unable to say a thing when he shifts his hips, slowly dragging his cock almost all the way out, before pushing just as slowly back in.
Your mouth drops open and eyes flutter as he repeats the action.
“Wait why are you…” Sam trails off and you almost don’t hear his “oh.” Of realisation.
“Might not wanna traumatise yourself Sammy.” Dean calls out, just before he snaps his hips harshly into you again, and you can’t help but cry out. Your cheeks blush at the fact Sam could hear you.
“Dean!” You scold in a hushed whisper, but he doesn’t stop, making you bite your lip to stop from crying out more. Thankfully you hear Sam’s footsteps quickly retreat.
“I’m done with interruptions.” Dean all but growls before crashing his lips to yours. His hips begin to piston into you at an almost bruising, quickly bringing you both back to the brink. Your cries of pleasure muffle against his lips and your hands tangle in his hair harshly, making him moan.
“Fuck i’m going to cum.” You gasp, head thrown back and back arching as much as was possible in the position you were in.
“Let go baby. I’m right there with you.” Dean pants and you meet his eyes in a silent cry as you tense up. Your orgasm rippling through you like a bolt of electricity.
“Fuuuuck.” Dean quickly follows you with a couple more thrusts. His body tensing as he grunts into your neck, each twitch of his cock as he empties his seed deep inside you, sending little aftershocks through your body.
You’re both breathing hard, even when he pulls back to look at you. Dopy smiles rise on your lips simultaneously, and laughter soon follows. Dean slowly puts you down on shaky legs, but keeps you close as he leans down to claim your lips once more.
It’s slow and passionate and striking you back to life as we speak. The smirk on Dean’s lips is all knowing and you want to smack away his smugness, but you can’t find it in you to make on that promise when his wandering hand cups your aching sex.
“Someone’s a needy girl, ain’t they.” He mumbles between kissing his way down your neck as his thick digits stroke you to life.
You gasp at the sensation, torn between too sensitive and desperate to feel more.
You glide your hand up his broad shoulder and through his damp hair before gripping tight enough to make him hiss. His eyes darken lustfully and you smirk a little at the feel of him twitching against you.
“You have no fucking idea.” You whisper, before pulling his lips to yours.
It’s safe to say Bobby’s water bill paid a price that day.
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starrywilliams · 5 months ago
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guilty as sin? | abby anderson
“these fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath, taking all of me, we’ve already done it in my head”
warnings: masturbation, slight masochism, ruined orgasm, angst, perv!abby (a little), internalized homophobia (discussed in more detail below)
notes: no surprise my favourite ttpd song is the gayest one on the album, but guilty as sin? screams lesbian guilt i fear!!!! i’ve been writing this for over a month so i hope u guys like it 😭
cw: discussion of lesbian guilt & comphet - these are somewhat based on my own experiences with my sexuality and i absolutely!!! do not think a man can ‘cure’ a lesbian or anything similar to that. nor do i believe anyone should ever feel guilty for being gay. realising i’m a lesbian has been extremely freeing & dykes r the best x
wc: 1.8k
likes, comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated :)
the door slammed harshly behind abby as she stormed into her room. she pulled her jacket off desperately; her skin hot under its tight vice. she’d been in the gym, trying to work out her endless frustration of late, when you’d walked in.
you’d only said “hi" and smiled politely at her before setting your things down. but she felt her stomach churn, a black hole opening inside her. abby stood up, pulling the weights off the barbell and onto their rack. she grunted softly, glancing at you from the corner of her eye.
you’d started stretching, currently bent over as you touched your toes. her eyes drifted for an infinitesimal moment, locking onto the swell of your-. she looked away - wrongwrongwrong.
but then she looked back, her stare feasting on your body. she wondered whether you were doing this on purpose, trying to tempt her from across the room. she wondered if you knew her dirty little secret, abby picturing a smirk on your face as you mocked her for such indecent thoughts.
she didn’t want to feel this way. she didn’t want to feel the poison ivy swarming around her chest, getting tighter, tighter. the rash spread inside her; this invisible whip of lust lashing against her skin whenever your face appeared in her mind. well, had it been just your face maybe she wouldn’t feel like some depraved sinner.
now it wasn’t like abby believed in god, in a world where death and destruction infect every crevice you’d have to be mad to believe that any ‘god’ wanted its followers to suffer so greatly. but something inside her screamed every time she had these thoughts. these impure, twisted thoughts about you.
she didn’t know what made her feel like this. what made her resent you for simply existing; and what made her resent herself.
she recalled her teenage years, when manny had subtly suggested that owen liked her - so she was supposed to like him back, right? and she tried! she loved him even - but there was always that something, that feeling in her gut that told her that something was wrong, something about him that just would never sit right with her.
but all the other girls wanted a boyfriend too, and the jealousy was nice at first - she’d thought. after all, mel was the star student, a doctor in the making, her dad’s favourite; and nora was this freshly trained medical officer, and abby was- abby was just abby.
her dad began noticing her more too - previously too preoccupied with his firefly duties and his favourite student. now his little girl was slipping away from him, he finally began paying her the amount of attention she’d craved for so long.
before, their conversations had often drifted into talk of mel and her new achievements, or his hopes of a vaccine, or some animal he was tracking. never anything about his daughter’s life.
having a boyfriend made her interesting, it gave the other girls something to envy. which was a nice reversal, for a while. then her dad died, and she had become this object of pity. owen helped a bit, she supposed. he tried to distract her and keep her focused on their new role as soldiers, but she barely cared about him anymore. all she wanted was revenge, and with revenge, came you.
you were one of the gyms trainers, passionate about helping the members of the wlf stay fit and healthy! you’d helped her start lifting weights, squealed as she reached every milestone, and had remarked jokingly about just how much you loved her new physique.
it was innocent at first, the most being her brain going a little fuzzy when you’d bit your lip while spotting her; a slight blush when you’d hugged her a little too tight. then, once she and owen were finally broken up, these new pictures began hanging themselves on the walls of her mind. still, innocent, just slightly tainted with desire - the true nature of them still an avoidable matter for her back then.
when she could ignore the truth in her recent behaviour, abby loved spending time with you. after all, you were just really good friends! anyway, she’d had a boyfriend before so everyone knew she was normal, and absolutely not different, and she would never ever have to feel like an outsider.
yet it took a mere three months before she gave up on this foolish lie. she liked you, and as long as nobody ever found out, it wouldn’t matter.
but as her mind grew dark and twisted - joel a constant topic in her head as she obsessed over finally getting to enact revenge - her thoughts got worse in turn. she wanted you - filthily and desperately.
every gym session ended with another cold shower, a desperate plea for her body to stop and let her focus on the task at hand; a hopeless attempt to bury this ache into the ground; an endless endeavour to escape these urges for just one second.
but then she came back changed, every hair on her body endlessly erected with guilt. the way she’d killed him so mercilessly, the way it had done nothing to ease the pain, and the way you had tormented her mind ceaselessly throughout the entire trip.
maybe, had she never met you, she could’ve just killed him and been satisfied. maybe had you never offered to train her personally, she could’ve just stayed comfortable in that stuffy closet. maybe if she found the right man she’d stop feeling this way.
abby deemed such ideas unfathomable now.
owen made her feel nothing. being with him was like an eternal thursday, an endless wait for the week’s end and its pleasure to turn up at her door. every day she’d wait for some spark to arrive, the routine only becoming more and more tedious by the minute. but he helped her get people’s attention, which was enough when she was just abby.
but then she was abby anderson, top scar killer and isaac’s favourite. she got attention on her own, she was praised for her own accomplishments: people worshipped the fucking ground she walked on. but they didn’t know who she really was.
they didn’t know she liked girls the way she was supposed to like boys. she’d seen it in enough of those wlf movie nights - cruel jokes about anyone who even thought about being different. she’d heard the way people gossiped, “did you hear that they’re moving lesbians into the family unit? what a joke.”
they said it like it was something dirty, something egregious, something that she had to hate about herself. so she did.
but as long as she kept it secret, kept it locked away in her mind, maybe she’d be okay. after all, only your actions talk: it was the age old question really, if a tree falls in a forest and no one else hears it, does it make a sound?
abby fell back against her bed sheets, calloused hands pushing her cargos down to her ankles as she replayed the sight of you in her mind. bent over - she felt like you were trying to tempt her on purpose.
she felt like a heathen; staring, fantasizing, worshipping. her mind was bursting with the idea of every possible position she could put you in; head a chorus of every little noise she wanted to hear you make; eyes screwed shut as depravity filled her every sense.
she shoved her bralette up her chest roughly, fingertips dragging over her nipples with little mercy. she pinched them, the peach skin stinging underneath her touch.
she wanted it to hurt; wanted it to feel like some sort of punishment for her thoughts. but as her hips bucked into the air, a long whine dragging from her clenched jaw, she realised it needed to hurt more.
she imagined you, finding her like this. disgust burnt into your features - what the fuck was she doing? repeating your name like some subverted prayer, fingers harshly scratching along her stomach as she tried to make the pleasure feel more like pain, trying to induce some connection between the two.
if it hurt enough, would she stop? force herself to forget? could she torture this part of herself until it surrendered?
her hand slipped over the top of her boxers, a finger running tentatively over her clit through the now darkened fabric. she bit down on her lip, groaning against it as she pushed down harder and harder, attempting to break through the skin.
another finger pressed down, beginning to draw circles down on the throbbing bud. she jolted against her own touch, your head between her legs burning into her mind. your hands, trailing along her flesh - groping at her with little tenderness; tongue, swiping at her pussy with no intent of fulfillment: she wanted you to make her weep, smoke out her lungs with shame, deny her from gratification until all she could feel was regret.
she pulled away, only to cover her fingertips with her spit - diving under her boxers to continue with her corruption. abby let out a strangled sigh, hips grinding against her fingers as they toyed with her clit.
she moved a hand to her hair, knuckles stretching against her scalp as she began to pull her braid. she grunted, yanking even harder. she whispered your name: pained, hopeless.
she sped up her assault against her pussy, feeling that pit in the bottom of her stomach begin to grow. “pleasepleaseplease” her voice cracked as she begged, unsure what she was pleading for.
she wanted to stop, but she needed to try and make this feeling go away. she knew it would come back, it always did - but even five minutes free from your torment on her mind might save her.
her fingers kept going, drawing desperate circles against her weeping pussy relentlessly. the void was growing, almost consuming her entirely at this point. she thought of you laughing at her current state: a crying mess, pussy wet with perversion.
it was sick, really - how the idea of you hating her for this made her need even worse. you’d probably think it appalling: someone who was supposed to be your friend, now sat here burning at the thought of you.
a part of her wished that you shared this sickness. that you too let yourself be overwhelmed by the thought of sin. maybe you didn’t let the guilt swallow you whole - she hoped so.
but there was no point lingering in the what-ifs, they were far too fleeting.
her deft fingers quickened their pace, the ache all consuming. the climb began - a desperate jump towards oblivion. closer, closer. the flames scorched her bedsheets as her breathing hastened.
fuck, she hissed before reaching the apex with a scream of your name. a scream? a whisper? a thought? it didn’t make her actions any less deplorable.
her conscience grabbed pleasure by the throat as she ripped her fingers away, putting out the blaze on her hips like a cigarette crushed on the ground.
the desire imploded within the walls of her torso; scratching against her insides in the vengeance of her denial.
it was wrong; she had to stop it. yet still, the guilt poured into her lungs with no chance of resolve. she was a fool for thinking it would fix her. maybe next time it would work. maybe next time the exorcism would finally purify her.
until next time.
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tacticaldiary · 1 year ago
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omg hi, i love your writing and saw requests were open for cod. i was wondering if you could write something where reader and simon are in an established relationship (can either be public to the team or a secret) and they are on a mission. reader has a scare during a mission and ghost has an “i almost lost you” moment with her.
Anyone But Her
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Their line of work has never guaranteed the assurance of coming home, but that doesn't make the fear of loss any easier to deal with, especially not when it happens right in front of his eyes.
Masterlist
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If asked where one feels the most comfortable, people who respond with something like 'home' or 'the beach', something achievable and wholly normal.
Her? There was nothing more comforting than the feel of hot metal in her tight grip during a mission, the easy reloading of her sniper almost by muscle memory as she gazes down the scope. The commands, the back and forth with tasks and delegations, and the constant movement and adjustment needed to bring home a victory is what keeps her on her feet.
"In position on first building." Ghost's rough voice travels through the comms, bringing her attention away from the scope she's looking down. Laying down on the top of a hill, spotting the other members as they infiltrate a Russian warehouse, was an easy job. In and out before they realised that the team was even there.
It's an ugly thing, what the 141 deals with, but it's so far set from what normal is that she's long since accepted that there's no going back.
Part of her is glad she hadn't tried. If there was never a chance she'd have been selected for this squad, she never would have met the enigma that is Simon Riley.
Standoffish, brash, deadly.
Understanding, confident, loving.
They'd butted heads on her first day harsher than any of the others ever had, and after an order from Price to resolve their tension lest it interfere mid battle, the both of them had come to realise that they had much more in common than they thought.
The rest had been history. They already moved in sync on the field, and after a try they'd discovered they worked just as well together as something more than teammates. It was hard to keep things professional with glances so heated and words that no friend would ever offer each other.
Some of the things he's said to her in the heat of the moment and the privacy of their quarters makes blood rush to her cheeks just thinking about it.
She was just a precaution, really. A failsafe, because the odds may be in their favour but they were never always truly compliant.
"Breaching second on your command." Gaz's voice relays through.
"Sergeant, how are things from above?"
"All clear, L.T." She says, doing another final sweep of the grounds. "No visible hostiles near your vicinity." The good news is delivered with an undertone of caution.
If their intel was correct, this warehouse should be housing stolen US documents, information that could deal real damage to their operations if transported farther than it already had been.
So where were all the soldiers?
The only ones she sees are a few mulling around the grounds, three by the radio tower nearby and another few near the vehicles at the back of the compounds. Surely such valuable intel would be more heavily guarded?
Her gut speaks to attest that something is wrong, but before she can bring it to light, Ghost and Soap, and Gaz and Price breach the doors of their respective warehouses.
"Copy." Ghost rasps. "Breaching now." She pauses for a moment to fiddle with her comms unit, the voices filtering through to her earpiece crackling in a way they shouldn't be if the device was fully functional.
Looking down her scope, everything seems normal. The grass swaying in the wind, the silence that follows and-
Silence?
She stiffens at the sudden lack of noise. It was too still, the clam before the storm. Hand flying to her comms, she speaks into the device;
"Ground team, how copy?"
Static. Then silence.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she repeats herself louder, more firmly, frowning where there's nothing but muted static and crackling. She does another sweep of the facility with her sniper. All seems quiet until her gaze focuses on the radio tower.
Adjusting her scope's distance, her mouth goes dry when she realises exactly what the three at the base of the structure are holding. A device she herself has used many times during missions like these.
A jammer.
Sudden movement makes her eyes snap back to the vehicle form before. Her stomach drops as the doors to the truck swing open and soldiers armed to their necks pour out, spreading all over the facility.
An ambush. They knew they were coming. Jammed their comms to isolate them and hide their forces until the others entered the warehouses probably. Surrounded. They'd be surrounded in mere minutes if they didn't do something.
Her comms are useless, so she can't warn them, and can only watch in muted horror as they start to scatter around the building.
Fuck.
She can't take out the three men at the tower from here. That wouldn't stop the device and only act to reveal her position. Hands-on was the only way.
Slamming her sniper onto the strap on her back, she extracts her pistol, breaking into a harsh sprint down the hill. There was no time, she had to warn them herself. To hell with staying out of sight.
The 141...they were like family to her. Soap and Gaz's constant cheeky remarks and antics, Price's steadfast and reliable leadership, Ghost...Simon's patience and understanding, his muted passion and actions that when decoded conveyed more love than anybody had every offered her.
The day her team took a loss would not be today. Not like this. Not when she could help it.
Finding herself in the middle of the compound by ducking and staying out of view, she kneels behind a crate, unhooking one of her frag grenades, pulling the pin out with her teeth.
This would give away her position, a dangerous gamble while hostiles surrounded her from all sides, but what better way to alert battle-ready soldiers than with the bang of a grenade. A sounds they knew all to well.
She'd just have to hold her position until they could regroup. She's done tougher things before, and this was so or die right now. With the thought in mind, she steels herself and tosses out the grenade at the most densely packed area of soldiers, clenching her jaw and taking cover at the resounding bang that cracks through the air.
The gunfire follows soon after.
Her comms crackle, evidence that someone's trying to reach her, but with the jammer not sounds can be deciphered.
Soldiers yell, and fire at her location, the heavy thudding of footsteps on either side of her clueing her into their intentions to flank her sides and gun her down. Returning fire, she ducks between the crates to make her way to the radio tower, just a couple of metres away. Bullets clink and bang and ricchoet of fthe metal around her, but miraculously, she's mostly unscathed as dives behind a vehicle and takes down the three men aiming their rifles at her.
The jammer lays at the feet, blinking green.
Right in the middle of the open field. She had to get there, had to get it off so they could all communicate with each other and move smoothly. There was a higher risk of casualties if one moved without the knowledge of the others.
Unpredictability was the worst of enemies in the field.
Steeling herself for going out in the open under the inevitable spray of bullets, she unclips a smoke grenade and tosses it, holding her breath as acrid smoke obstructs everyone's vision. Stumbling into the mess, she keeps low to the ground to avoid the blind fire into the smoke and feels around for the device.
Her hands curl around the metal and she sprints back to cover.
She doesn't make it.
Their blind fire proves effective, as a bullet rips through her shoulder, another one through her calf wrenching out a choked scream from her. The smoke was slowly dissipating, and pretty soon visibility would be back and then any bullet wounds she'd sustain would not be as unfatal.
Panic claws up her throat, but years of practise allow her to swallow it down. She pulls herself up, but groans and collapses, her leg unable to support her weight and her shoulder unable to drag her across the ground.
Shit, shit.
Her breaths come ragged and uneven, her knuckles turning white with the harsh grip on the device. Changing courses, she brings the jammer close to her, focusing on it instead, turning knobs and pressing buttons.
If she bit the bullet here, she'd damn well do so making sure the others stayed alive.
The second the jammer switches off, voices filter through her comms, a flurry of mixed yells, gunfire and pounding footsteps.
"Sergeant?!" A familiar voice barks down the line, hoarse...worried? "Are you down?"
Lightheaded, feeling blood soak through her clothes, she can't bring herself to respond. The smoke starts to clear and the best she can do is shift herself behind a tree a few feet away, leaning against the thick trunk for cover while unable to grasp her weapon through the slippery bloody coating her hands.
Was it normal to have that much blood? Feeling a little delirious, she drops her weapons besides her and presses down hard on the wound on her leg, biting back a groan. Gunfire pings around her, gunpowder and smoke acrid in the air.
It's only when Ghost snaps her name through the comms does she come back to herself a little.
"I'm..." She squeezes her eyes shut trying to get her tongue to form words. "I'm down. Bleeding out near the radio tower. Fuckers jammed out comms. Ambush. Had to...had to warn you. Had to fix it." She coughs, spitting into the ground beside her as blood trickles down her chin.
Definitely not normal.
Swallowing is hard, her thoughts swim as the grass beneath her is stained crimson. Her body feels too heavy, head to light and she wonders if this is really the end.
Someone speaks through her comms, words to muddled in her head to make out. Gaz? Or was that Price? Maybe Soap? Or Simon?
God, what she wouldn't give to hear Simon again, just once. Her eyes flutter shut with a groan. Just once more. She just wants to hear that gruff voice one more time through the comms, saying her name. He's never told her he's loved her verbally, even when she expressed it herself, but words haven't ever been his strong points.
His actions spoke far far louder.
The ways he's memorised all her little routines, her favourite foods, her favourite activities, the particular way she likes to store and clean her weapons. the silent moments at night where he pulled her close and the shared a book together, the nights spent together in bed where he showed her that he was not lacking in love when it came to her.
Simon Riley had left a mark on her life that she wore with pride, and if this...this meant that he lived on another day. She grits her teeth, shallows pant soft breath as blood pools between her fingers.
Then it was damn well worth it.
                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
An unstoppable force by nature, Ghost is the scariest anybody's ever seen him right now.
That last comms transmission from her had made his heart practically stop in his chest, even if he was as apathetic as ever from the outside. He had called out to her again, demanded she stay awake and give a precise location but no matter how much he shouted and order through the comms he was met with a deafening silence.
Silence that suggested the worst.
Fuck, no. No way. This wasn't happening, this simply wasn't something Simon would allow to happen.
Not her. Not any of them, really, but especially not her. Not her soft smiles and meaningful glances, not when she made him feel as if he might not break everything he comes into contact with.
Not when she was the only one who's ever coaxed out Simon Riley from Ghost.
His actions grow harsher, more brutal. The moment he hears she's near the radio towers bleeding out, he's a man on a mission, and none of the others make a peep of protest as he clears the way through to her, a spartan leaving a trail of blood behind as he moves.
He does not rage. Rage implies something uncontrolled and fierce. No, this is not rage. This is something much colder, much more calculating. Every throat that he slashed with his knife, every bullet that lands home in a skull is done with precision and deadly force. He means every bit of hurt he causes, hurt that stems from his own panic at her sudden silence.
This was not rage. This was icy cold desperation disguised as cool anger.
He's the one who finds her after everybody spreads out to clear the facility.
Back to a tree, eyes closed, hands limp at her side.
She might have been sleeping if not for all the fucking blood.
Dropping down beside her, he shakes her shoulder firmly, calling out her name.
"Wake up, Sergeant." He orders, eyes raking over her figure to find the source of her injuries. His jaw ticks as he notes the two fresh wounds. She doesn't move when he extracts a rolls of gauze from his belt, doesn't flinch when he tightly wraps her injuries.
Does not wake up to notice how his hands are shaking as he ties the final knots.
"Wake up." He says, voice much lower, something deeply needing. Shifting closer, he pulls her into his arms, away from the rough bark of the tree. Her head falls to his shoulder limply, making his breath hitch, true, cold fear gripping his heart. "Wake up, sweetheart, c'mon." He urges. She's still alive as per the shallow rise and fall of her chest, but she won't fucking wake up and it's killing him, making panic claw at his throat because not her, not her, not her.
Reaching around, he pinches her sternum hard, relief slamming into him when she finally groans and whimpers, a weak hand reaching up to push his away. "That's it, love. There you go." He mutters praise, hooking an arm under her legs and hoisting her up, carrying her. "Keep those eyes open for me, yeah? Don't you dare fucking close them, you hear me?" His accent is thicker than normal
"..Simon?" She groans, barely a whisper, making his heart wretch painfully.
"It's me." He confirms, clutching her tighter as he makes his way back to the exfil he'd ordered Gaz to request. The heli stand waiting near the first warehouse, a mass of dead bodies paving the path for them to step over. "I've got you, love. Stay with me, just a little longer.
He doesn't know if she can hear him let alone understand what he's saying, but it seems to work, her groggy gaze taking in their surrounding, watching but not really seeing.
She shoves at his chest suddenly, weak but firm. "No...you gotta-they're here." She rattles in a breath that makes even him wince. "Ambush, Simon. Gotta-get yourself out."
"Fucking hell woman, you think I'd leave you?" He hisses, hiking her up closer so their bodies are pressed together. He feels a rush of anger peer through the crushing panic and worry he's beating down.
"No time." She breathes. "Leave-"
"Not another word." He warns, angry at the thought that she'd even think for one moment that he'd let her die on his watch, that he'd ever leave the one good thing in his life.
Her compliance scares him to the bone.
Simon practically runs the last few meters towards the evac heli, barking out instructions for a medic as they bring out a stretcher. Gently, an action so at odds with the flames burning through his veins, he lays her down on it, staying by her side as they hoist her inside.
The jolting makes her whimper, aggravating her injuries no doubt. "Careful," Simon demands, and a single glare from him is enough to make the team move her with much more cautiousness.
The team clamours in and it's not long before they're all in the air.
A silence is passed around the space, an acknowledgment and shared anger at her state, how she was riddled with bullets like a target because of her selfless nature to save and give.
They hadn't gotten the intel, but Simon has never given less of a shit about anything before, not when she's laying next to him pale and trembling, looking up at him as if he might be the one to make her pain go away.
May God strike him dead if he doesn't try his fucking hardest.
                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The steady beep on a heart monitor and the sharp smell of antiseptic is what slowly brings her back to the living world. She feels...
Well she feels like shit.
That's kind a given though, judging by how she determines by the scratchy sheets under her that she's in a hospital bed. One would be more disorientated by waking up like this, but she's seen her fare share of white bedspreads and jello cups.
Finally gathering up the courage to blink her heavy eyes open, she squints at the ceiling light, slowly getting her bearings.
They were...on a mission. She tries to recall. Warehouse. Men. Jammer...
The jammer! Were the others alright? All she remembers is passing out by the tree and-what else?
Alarm ringing through her, she moves to sit up but immediately groans at her body protesting, her limbs burning at the movement. Shoulder and leg tight with stitches, she tries to force herself to sit up when a large, warm hard pushes her back down.
"Easy does it. Lay still for me." The familiar voice washes away the alarm and when she slowly, groggily turns her head, there sits the one person she wanted to see.
Simon sits beside her bed, looking ragged and poorly even beneath his mask. She can see it by the tension in his shoulders.
"Wh-" She trails off, coughing and wincing at the pain in her dry throat. There's a rustling, and then a hand at the back of her neck, guiding her lips to a cup full of cool water. "Drink." Simon says simply, helping her swallow the liquid until she pushes on his hand.
"What happened?" She finally manages, meeting his eyes. "You look...like shit. You okay?"
Amusement may have flickered into those eyes of his, but it's next to nothing with the other concoction of worry in his eyes.
For someone so stoic, he had very expressive eyes if you knew how to read them.
"Am I okay?" He stares in disbelief. "Considering I didn't get shot twice and nearly bleed out, I'd say I'm doing better than you."
"Ever the comedian." Her joke doesn't crack a smile from him and that's when she knows something is truly wrong. "Simon what-"
The scrape of his chair cuts her off as he stands abruptly, moving over to her side. He seems hesitant for a split second, arms pausing as they reach out.
He decides to push away the doubt, however, because moments later, strong arms are wrapped around her, pulling her into him. She relaxes at the familiar scent of him, of his clothes as he tucks his chin over her head.
His heart is racing under his cheek, her fist loosely gripping his shirt.
She knows he'll speak in time, that she just has to wait for him to gather the words and decide how to express them out loud. So she does exactly that. She waits while he regulates himself, gathers his thoughts.
His arms tighten around her. "Thought I lost you." He says, and if it had been anybody but her, they might have missed the slight tremor in his voice. "When I saw you bleeding out against that tree...Fuck, I thought you were gone."
"Not that easily." She hums, pressing into him further. "Never than easily."
"Better fucking not be." It coaxes a hoarse giggle from her, what he growls in her ear.
"I'm alright, Simon." She assures him gently. "Alive and kicking."
He nods against her head minutely, his lips pressing against her head through his mask, a gesture that makes her melt because if Simon was resorting to such a thing he must have really had a scare. He hated PDA and although they were the only ones in the room, normally they reserved this kind of intimacy for their own rooms when they're alone together.
He stays like that for a while, convincing himself that she was there, that she was alive and breathing and in his arms and untouchable as of now. All the while she runs a soothing hand up and down his strong arms, mumbling assurances of their safety.
She'd do it again in a heartbeat, would put herself in harms way to save her team, but as she sits there pressed against him, the sun spilling into the room warming it with it's rays, she can't help but think of how thankful she is to have felt this again.
To have the chance to continue experiencing the protective love of Simon Riley.
Requests Are Open!
(25/06/2023)
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