#I know it's been like 4 years but I love dragging him still

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds (4)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst

a/n: Thank you for reading and sorry for the wait!! I hope you enjoy :) Let me know what you think ❤️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

~~

You were leaving today, and suddenly—with your bags at your feet and the air around you filled with stagnant silence—a few days seemed so juvenile. So… inconsequential in the grand scheme. 

You would leave, and when you returned everything would be the same. Azriel would still love another and you would still be left with the bleak realization that you had spent the last few centuries denying a love that you knew to be fruitless. 

Nothing would change if you were to be gone only a few measly days. 

But if you were to be gone a month? A year, even? 

Much of your work for Rhysand could be done from afar, especially with the library in Day Court. Helion wouldn’t mind; he’d asked you to consider an extended stay in the past. And maybe there could even be something there, something to take your mind off of your true home. 

The home that wasn’t Velaris. 

You saw him every time you closed your eyes. His rare smiles, his even rarer laughs; you saw the way his watchful eyes skated across every room you entered and reminisced on each twitch of his hands—the way you could feel it against your fingers when you grabbed for him in the busy streets of Velaris. 

Azriel was inescapable, even when you battled against your vision and attempted to drift to sleep. 

He was everywhere, everything. 

But he wouldn’t be in Day Court, and although that wouldn't stop your thoughts, it would be something. It would be distance. 

With a flick of your wrist, you sent your bags away to Day Court and heaved in an uncomfortably large breath. You knew he would do little to deny you, but you still needed to ask Rhys. He was your High Lord and employer, above all your friend, and you knew it would take a little persuading. 

Maybe tears. Yes, tears were very moving and equally as conjurable at the moment.

It only took one step before the knock on your door left you still. Your shoes made a dent in the carpet and you could hear him breathing on the other side of the ornately carved wood. You could always tell when it was Azriel. 

You shifted your weight from one knee to the next, gripping your skirts at the thigh. Azriel knocked again, this time in a faster pattern—more rushed. 

You bit into your lip. You hadn’t planned to see him again, not before you left. You would deal with the repercussions of such an act later on, but not now. Not when you had finally gotten your emotions under control for long enough to have a conversation with Rhys. 

It made sense to you now why you had repressed this for so long. 

The sound of your voice was startling. “Come in.” 

The door creaked, but the sound was overpowered by Azriel’s boot clicking against shining marble. The shadowsinger entered before his shadows, but the wisps followed close behind, quickly abandoning their master in favor of darting toward you. They twisted up your legs and elbows, rolling into your hair and dancing along your fingertips. 

Something like fear, love, crushing defeat tugged and tugged at your chest. 

“Azriel,” you greeted, aiming for a surprised tone and failing. “Have you come to see me off?” 

The spymaster didn’t smile. “Rhys sent me. He said you might have a message for him.” 

That cauldron-damned meddler. Of course he somehow knew about your reservations. You doubted he knew exactly what you had to say, but you had been dragging your feet all morning and were currently about an hour late for your own departure. 

And of course he had sent Azriel of all people. 

“Oh! Well, I suppose I could go and—” 

“Why is half of your vanity gone?” 

You blinked, startled by the words. If Azriel was anything, he was polite and never one to cut someone off. You went to search Azriel’s expression but found him zeroed in on the table pushed into the corner of your room. 

“What?” It was all you could think to formulate. 

But Azriel was quick to respond. “Almost all of your things are gone. Your perfumes and the pots of cream you keep on the side. You’ve only left the items you don’t use anymore.” 

“How do you know—” you cut yourself off this time, ignoring the glaring question that tried to blind you. “Azriel, I’m going away… to Day Court. You know this.”

But Azriel only shook his head, stalking over to the table and yanking the drawer open so harshly it shook the mirror. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he went to your closet, throwing open the door, shoulders rising and falling with more effort. 

“Azriel—” 

“You’ve packed too much.” He turned to you, some of his shadows returning to wind around his chest. “You’ve taken most of your clothes.” 

“You know I always overpack,” you laughed, but the laugh sounded fake, painful. 

You fought the urge to cower under Azriel’s scrutinizing gaze. It was as if he was on fire, as if he was aflame and filled with something that had been pent up for far too long. If someone, anyone, were to look inside of you, they would see the same thing. 

Which is why you needed to get far, far away from this situation. Away from him.

But the longer you looked back at him—the longer you tried to slap that easygoing smile on your face—the longer he stared back with the same steady intensity. 

“Is something the matter?” you tried. 

Azriel’s hand twitched. 

That feeling crept along the edges of your ribs once again. 

“Is something the matter?” he parroted, jaw so impossibly tight the words came out pinched. 

You finally looked away, playing with your fingers. “Yes?” 

He started laughing. But it wasn’t the kind of laugh that made you feel light. It didn’t fill you with pride for eliciting such a sound from him, nor did it make you want to laugh in return. It made you feel dark; as Azriel laughed, you wanted to heave the sound back within the depths it flowed from. 

“There are several things that are the matter, y/n, but I’d say the most pressing is that you have been avoiding me for weeks. That every moment I’ve tried to spend with you has been promptly evaded and now you’re leaving and you had no intention of saying goodbye.” 

“I was going to—” 

“Please,” he pleaded, eyes soft yet so achingly desperate. “Don’t lie to me. Not right now.” 

The indent in the carpet was becoming permanent; you couldn’t seem to move. 

“I’ve been… I’ve been going through a hard time. Leaving seemed like it was the best for me. Just for a little while. Just until I could sort a few things out.” 

“For how long?” he asked, voice cracking along the precipice of the last word. 

You paused then, staring hard into his eyes. “A while.”

A shaky breath left the shadowsinger, his chest reflecting the sound. He ran a hand into his hair and tugged at the roots, an action you hadn’t seen him do in years. A sickening sort of pity ran through you—a sort of responsibility. 

Because Azriel was your friend, and he was going through something, too. You had no idea if his mate reciprocated his feelings. You found it hard to believe that anyone wouldn’t love Azriel, but the conversation you’d overheard last week gave nothing away. 

Maybe Azriel hadn’t told her yet because she didn’t love him. And maybe you were being a bad friend by not being there for him. 

Tossing your hurt to the side, you took a step forward. Azriel watched the movement, eyes flickering behind you to catch the previous imprint of your feet on the carpet. 

“I’m sorry,” you began, resolute. “I’m sorry that you felt you couldn’t tell me. And that you’ve been… having a hard time. I know I’m not leaving at the most opportune time, but you can write to me and I can help you.” 

Some of the brokenness on Azriel’s face morphed into confusion. “Help me?” 

“With your mate.” 

And it was as if Azriel had been shot. He physically recoiled, his right foot coming down to catch him as he fixed his imbalance. 

“I know you wanted to keep it private, but I overheard. Azriel—” You swallowed. Hard. “—It’s so wonderful that you’ve found your mate.” 

Something was set in motion, and Azriel was shaking his head. His gaze was fixed on you and his eyebrows were pushed together in a painful expression and he just kept shaking his head as your chest caved and it became hard to breathe. Something pulled from within and it felt like your heart was unraveling. 

Couldn’t he see how hard this was? How much it took from you just to acknowledge that he was destined for someone else? 

The shadowsinger seemed unaware of your inner turmoil, instead taking long steps across the room until he reached you. He leaned down, brought his hands up to your face, and he broke another piece of you as his forehead touched yours. 

He was whispering something, words so low even your fae ears couldn’t catch them, but you knew they were fast. Fast and incoherent and you weren’t even able to find their meaning in his expression because his eyes were squeezed so tightly. 

“Please, just notice. See it, angel, it’s there.” 

Your jaw quivered. He was so close to you. The few words you were able to make out were confusing. 

“My oblivious girl. Please.” 

“Azriel—” 

When he opened his eyes, the world fell off its axis. The fear in your chest—the feeling that had been unraveling you and leaving you weak—alighted. It pulled and pulled but this time it didn’t hurt. It no longer left splinters embedded in your ribs or took the breath from your lungs. 

As you looked up at Azriel, it was only soothing and warm and—

Mate. Azriel was your mate. 

You pushed back from him, stumbling and catching on the rug as you went toppling down to the floor. There was no pain from the fall; a numbness overtook your body where the warmth once flowed. 

“You’re my—Azriel, you—” 

There were no endings to the sentences you began. Azriel tried reaching a hand down, but when you wouldn’t take it he joined you on the floor. He sat with you between his legs, bringing you forward until your knees curled against his chest. And then he wrapped you in his arms and then his wings, taking calming breaths as yours ran rampant. 

“I am your mate,” he finished for you, so much more soothing than you had ever heard him speak.

“But Elain,” you gasped out, finding solace against his chest. You leaned your forehead against him and relished in the heat. 

“What of Elain?” Azriel asked, bringing a hand up against the back of your head. 

“You love Elain.” 

“I do not love Elain.” 

“And Mor?” 

“I do not love Mor, either.” 

You nodded against him. This would take longer for you to come to terms with later, but only simple answers were getting through to you now. And the bond—the bond—sang as you touched Azriel. The bond didn’t care if you were confused or hurt or disbelieving.

Your mind swam as a new influx of emotions filled you, but there was a distinction to them and you knew they weren’t your own. At first, it was hard to pick through them all; there were so many that they all blended together. There was an obvious tender love, but also a crippling fear that mingled with a darkness you couldn’t place. There was adoration and hopefulness and a sense of peace that lay at the bottom of all else. 

But you could tell this peace was new. It wasn’t as deeply ingrained as the others. 

Azriel leaned back, craning his neck down to catch your gaze. “Do you feel that?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “Those feelings have always belonged to you. All of them. I know there is not a lot of proof of that, and I will spend the rest of my life making up for that, but they have always belonged to you.” 

“Have you always felt mine?” you asked, voice sounding unused. 

“Since I’ve felt the bond,” he nodded. 

“How long have you…” 

Azriel sighed, but it wasn’t out of irritation. The bond told you as much. “Months.” 

Tears burned at the back of your eyes. “Then why did you never—” 

Azriel shushed you as your voice cracked. He ran both hands behind your head and held you steady as his lips pressed to your forehead. 

“I didn’t want to lose you.” 

Throat still closed, words still choked, you replied, “That is idiotic.” 

This time, when Azriel laughed, you felt that pride spark up in your chest. “I know, angel. Gods, do I know that.” 

There was a brief pause, a respite to the revelations and emotions in the room. You counted your breaths as you pressed against Azriel, and he ran his hands up and down the length of your spine, chaste kisses pressed to your head as the minutes ticked by. 

“Don’t leave.” Azriel broke the silence. “Stay. Please.” 

When you didn’t answer, he kept talking. 

“You don’t have to love me. I know that is a lot to ask and there are still so many questions left unanswered. But, y/n, I have loved you for a long, long time. I couldn’t bear it if you left. It has been difficult to even function this past week with you avoiding me. If you were to leave—”

“I only avoided you because I thought it wasn’t me,” you interrupted, pulling back once again to meet his gaze. “I thought you didn’t love me and I couldn’t stand it, so I wanted to leave.”

A grim line set into Azriel’s mouth. The desperation returned to his eyes. “We have wasted so much time.” 

“I wouldn’t say wasted. Not when you were here. Not when I was still with you.” 

“Angel.” The word came out like a plea, and then his lips were on yours. His hands pressed you closer and his mouth was hot against yours and it was everything you’d spent three centuries ignoring. You loved him, gods did you love him, and in this kiss was every proof that he loved you. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair, musing the already displaced strands. His wings quivered as you kissed him more, the action sending little pools of light into the bubble he had created. They felt warm against your eyelids, and when you pulled away to see the cause, Azriel moved his attention to your jaw, your cheek, your neck. 

“You are my mate,” he affirmed against your skin, low and gravelly. “Mine.” 

You pulled his head away, leaning your forehead against his own. “And you are mine.” 

“I love you,” he said. 

And you couldn’t say it back, not yet. Azriel seemed unperturbed by this and accepted your small smile as a reply, reciprocating it tenfold. His smile shone in the pockets of light created by his wings and his eyes no longer looked sad. It made you want to say it back.

When that guilt flooded you and your mouth parted, there was a tug at the bond instead. You gasped at the feeling, blinking up at Azriel with owlish eyes. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for months,” he admitted, smile softening as he ran scarred fingers along your cheeks. “Every time I felt your doubt or fear. I figured I could startle it out of you.” 

You rubbed at your chest. “It feels warm. And…” You couldn’t find the words.

“It feels good, angel. This bond was cold and it hurt, but it—it feels good. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” 

A breathy, awestruck laugh escaped you. “You know, I still have to go to Day for the weekend. It’s court-appointed.” 

Azriel groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Then I will come with you,” he grumbled, words muffled against your skin. 

“You cannot. But you can wait for me to return and I will come right back here.”

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction

[ghostbsuter]

This is the fourth time damian brought the college student over.

Damian, despite being 14, has been accepted to a gifted school as he had already been taught in the most subjects one usually learns at a slower pace.

(He still gets a headache over the fact his son won't get a normal childhood.)

Which is how he befriended the 17 year old Daniel, an overworked and sleepdeprived college student, getting dragged along and following with no complaint.

Bruce is, even if he wanted damian to befriend someone more around his own age, very welcoming of the student.

Alfred made sure the boy took enough food with him home, always leaving the mansion at point 4 pm.

It really shouldn't have been surprising when Bruce Wayne, yes, THE Brucie Wayne, summoned him to his office.

Danny entered the room fidgeting, giving a nervous smile to the man behind the desk and questioning what he did wrong to offend the patriarch of the family.

(Lies and slander, we, the readers, are fully aware that Alfred is the patriarch.)

"Uh— hi, Mr. Wayne." He sat when gestured to the chair, shitting bricks with how nervous he's.

The man nods in greeting, smiling. "Hello Danny–"

"Please don't kill me!" The teen in question blurts out, flushing in embarrassment once registered.

Taken aback and startled, Bruce snorts, stifling laughter by putting a hand against his mouth.

Shit.

"I don't know what I did! Very sorry if I offended someone!" He rambles, panicking and waving his hands around.

"Danny—"

"I must have done something! Why else would you call me? Oh god– I'm gonna be murdered by THE Brucie Wayne!"

At this point, the rich guy in front of him is barely restraining himself from laughing, trying his best to stay professional.

"Danny–! I- I won't murder you." He reassured, eyes crinkling from smiling.

"But–" he sniffs, both embarrassed and teary.

"I'm not gonna— danny." Bruce sighs, which sounds a lot like a choke, really. "Look, I just wanted a 1-on-1 talk with you about your friendship with damian and some concerns."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

Danny sighs in relief at this. "I can do some good old interrogation–" "it's not an interrogation–" "totally interrogation."

He huffs lightly, getting comfortable in his chair and preparing himself mentally.

"Alright Mr. Wayne! Shoot me!"

(Was that a pun? A joke to murder? Really?)

The man clears his throat, straightens his back and looks serious as he was before the accusations of murder.

"What are your intentions with damian and why become friends in the first place?"

Blinking, the teen brightens. "Oh, that's easy! Damian needs a friend. We just kinda clicked after I scared away a few pesky bullies."

Then he shrugs. "Besides, it's great training."

"Training?" Bruce asks, curious, tone light in the way that shows he's very interested.

"Yes. Despite his badly hidden murderous tendencies, love for knives, and slight lack of slang language and knowledge, he's still a kid." He nods.

"A young teen that goes through teen stuff that I barely remember going through and now get to relearn will be handy once Ellie becomes a teenager herself."

Batman was filing the information away, but Bruce kept going.

"Ellie?" He questions.

"My daughter– has damian not mentioned her? We always leave around 4 to get her from my sister. Sometimes, dami stays over for a few hours!"

Ah. Well. Seems like Alfred will have to make more food for the teen now.

"Would you like to stay for dinner today?" He asks, "Bring your daughter too. We won't mind you joining us." smiling and already planning for the new adjustments to make.

"On another note, what are your and your daughters preferences? Any allergies?"

Danny didn't even agree yet, not that he was gonna— mind you.

"No allergies, soft foods only, easy to eat." He answers, listing the stuff from the top of his head.

In a whirlwind of– of planning dinner?? Danny is out of the door and wide eyed.

"What just happened?"

(On the other side, Bruce face-palms, having forgotten to ask what age Ellie is. Damn in Bruce.)

—

On the fifth visit, Danny stayed for dinner.

Damian must know the age, for there are bowls with freshly cut fruits, yoghurt, and rice mixed with veggies and chicken.

On that note, where is damian?

Dick meets his eyes, asking the same quetsion with a look.

Just as Bruce was gonna ask, the door opened, and the cutest picture to ever exist was created.

(Dick RIPPED his phone out of his pocket, swiping a picture of the scene as fast as possible.)

Steph can't hold back the coos at the sight of Damian walking with a toddler into the dining room, her tiny feet propped up on his and in hand together.

She's wearing a Robin onesie and he is wearing his (stolen) Nightwing hoodie.

"Sorry, hope we aren't late!" Danny waves with a grin from behind the pair.

"You aren't, just perfect, in fact." Bruce reassures, waving the teens over to the free seats.

Damian leads the two to his seat, making sure they're next to him.

The conversation during dinner is one spoken fondly, Cass likes to make Ellie laugh with silly faces, Duke and Steph "secretly" feed her tiny pieces of strawberry and Dick is in a rather passionate discussion with both Tim and Danny.

Damian, once he makes sure no one is watching him, wipes the mess from Ellies face.

(Bruce was watching, looking away once damians face snapped to him. He wasn't aware his youngest had such a soft spot for toddlers.)

(It takes a while, but Danny and Ellie become family like every other person, while having not slept over yet, Alfred already has prepared a room for the two in the Family wing.)

(It's barely a week after that everyone bought and gifted him onesie's of their hero personas, with the excuse of them being the gotham vigilantes when questioned. After all, the Robin can't be a one man team.)

—

The Nightwing and his Robin.

#dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #Danny is Ellies dad #elle is dannys daughter #BABY ELLIE #shes barely a toddler ya all #danny: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD HES GONNA KILL ME I NEED TO RUN OH MY— #bruce: do u wanna come to dinner #the art got my main acc in its name. #check it out #shameless promotion #yep

[livlaughloveluke]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 - 𝐥.𝐜 🪸

daughter of demeter! reader x luke castellan 🫧

summary- the “best friends” of camp half-blood maybe wanna become a little more..

warnings- fem!reader, not proofread

1.7k

Camp Half-blood was illuminated by gold streaks casted from the early morning sun. Light seeped into Cabin 4 through the window, painting the room with warm hues of yellow and orange. The bright rays were a natural alarm, gently waking you from your warm sleep. 

As the covers slipped off your skin with ease, you carefully tiptoed out of the twin bed to close the blinds. Young campers softly snored, and you couldn’t help but smile at their blissful state. Grabbing the rough fabric, you quietly pulled the two pieces together, blocking any more sunlight from startling your siblings.

Sleep still threatened to drag you under, so you slipped on sandals and trudged towards the kitchen, eager to get a warm cup of coffee, or really anything to help you wake up. 

Outside was fairly silent, contrary to the rowdy and noisy afternoons that typically filled the camp. The only ones awake were boisterous birds, who sung an enchanting song, and a few other counselors who were busy setting up  for the day. 

Your steady steps carried you to the small camp kitchen, where snacks littered the room as a reward for the effort of the counselors. A small jet black coffee maker stood on the counter, with Luke Castellan lingering next to it, facing away from you. Your presence went unnoticed by him, and you watched as he swiftly picked up two steaming mugs.

He slightly jumped at the sight of you, surprised by your hushed entrance. 

“H-Hey. Made you your coffee.” He said, reaching out to awkwardly hand you one of the energizing brown liquids. You delicately giggled at him for his initial fright, and accepted the sweet gesture.

“Thank you. Excited for today’s activities?” You asked, taking a sip of your toasty drink. Today, Hermes and Demeter Cabin were partnering up for a lazy day doing arts and crafts and indoor activities. The kids spent the past week relentlessly training, working hard from dusk till dawn, so an easy day was needed.

“Any time I get to spend with you is exciting.” Luke replied, smirking, before realizing how that sounded and backtracking. “I- Uh, I didn’t mean it-“ 

You laughed again, quickly cutting him off.

“I know what you meant. See you at eight.” You turned away, teasingly bumping his shoulder. 

“See ya.” He whispered out, pursing his lips and doing a slight nod as he witnessed you sauntering away. 

You and Luke had been close friends since the beginning. He arrived with Annabeth and Grover, confused and broken by the world. Luke never wanted to be a demigod, to lose Thalia. It was all too much for him.

But then you passed by in the infirmary, practically radiating a positive energy. You smiled at him, a genuine smile, with your nose scrunching up and your eyes nearly closing, before going to chat with some Apollo kid.

You were selected to give him and Annabeth a tour later that afternoon, presumably for your friendly and charming personality that seemed to lure people in. Luke got to observe your perfection firsthand as you helped the his sister adapt to the new surroundings, sweetly showing her everything to love about camp.

Luke followed you around like a lost puppy, mesmerized by your every move. With every step you took, luscious flowers blossomed, creating a beautiful scenery. Not to mention, the kids looked up to you so dearly, with the way you patched their nearly invisible cuts and grew them tulips on their worst days. 

The sad reality was you were more of a mother to them than their biological parents, even if you were only fourteen at the time. You did your best to make them feel “normal,” to let them live a glorious childhood that you were never granted. 

In those five years after his arrival, you became close as ever. Whether it was spending time basking in the strawberry fields or splashing around in the lake, you spent every minute together, your bond stronger than any weapon forged in Olympus. You laid by him on those restless nights before he got claimed, and after, too. And when you had a small cold, he went full Apollo-mode and spent hours glued to your side until you felt better. 

However, there was one teensy issue. Luke was hopelessly and utterly in love with you. Every one saw the way he gazed at you a little too long and with a little too much love in his eyes for just a friend.

Well, all noticed except you. The poor boy thought you weren’t interested, but the reality was your concept of love was so twisted and blurry that you had no clue what “love” even looked like. 

So, both you and him stayed silent, hoping one would realize eventually, and end this torture of a situationship.

Which brings us back to now, a cool and humid lazy morning with the campers, lounging on the few picnic tables decorated outside Hermes Cabin. Luke watched as you sat with your (and his) siblings, carefully threading pearly pink beads on a flimsy string. You laughed as you talked to the young children, making sure they were all included. The sun brightened your features, making you appeal heavenly. And your eyes twinkled with curiosity as a little unclaimed kid ranted on about some silly story.

“Dude, you’re staring again.” Chris chimed in, raising his eyebrows as he continued to paint navy shades of blue onto a rock.

“Shut up. Aren’t you whipped for Clarisse?” Luke sarcastically asked.

“If anyones whipped here, it’s you. How long have you liked her now? Can’t you just tell her already?” He was quick to return the sassy attitude, remaining unbothered by his friend’s remark.

“It’s not that simple, you know that. What if she doesn’t like me back and-“ He tried to ramble on, negative thoughts swallowing him whole. Luckily, Chris was there to pull him out of his own mind with yet another dumb comment.

“Damn. I knew you weren’t Athena’s son, but I didn’t know you were that clueless.”

“What?” Luke questioned, slightly offended.

“How many guys has she dated since she met you?”

“None. But I don’t see how this really relates-“

“And how many have asked her out?”

Luke paused for a second. There was Ethan from Ares, who tried asking her on a date a week ago, but she declined. Or Jack from Aphrodite, who, let’s be real, was the most attractive boy in camp, but she rejected him, too.

Chris took his silence as a victory. “Exactly.” He retorted.

“Whatever.” Luke shrugged, hopping up to sit by you. You scooted to your left, making room for him instantly. Cheers erupted from the campers as they saw their (second favorite) counselor.

“Luke! Y/N told us that you still snore when you sleep!” One of them pipped out, sending the rest of the minions into a giggle fit. Luke took a dramatic gasp in, placing a hand on his heart to pretend he was hurt.

“I do not!” He yelped, making the younger laugh even harder. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched the kids joke around.

“I can’t believe you would betray me like that!” He said to you, trying to fake upset, but the huge grin on his face said otherwise.

“I mean, am I wrong? You are the loudest sleeper I’ve ever met!” You reply, grinning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looks the other way, and before you can say anything, a voice cut you off.

“Hey! Luke, Y/N!” A blond Apollo child shouted from afar, gently jogging while approaching them. They shifted their attention, prepared to fulfill whatever task presented.

“Chiron needs you in the office. New kid arrived. They said his name was Percy or something?” He finished, jogging away, most likely to get back to the infirmary.

The leaders looked back at their older friend, wondering if he could cover while they helped this newcomer out. 

Chris gave a thumbs up, signaling he could watch them for a few minutes. 

You and Luke playfully danced around one another on the short stroll, talking about anything and everything while you walk through the woods.

Soon, you reached the open building, the stain glass windows casting a colorful glow. You peer inside to see a blond teen, looking around twelve years old, arguing with Dionysius.

“Peter Johnson is here!” The drunk croaked out, and the two counselors made sure to swoop in. 

“Percy, Right?” You said, slightly a little too enthusiastic for 8am on a Tuesday morning.

“Yeah. At least someone around here can get my name right.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Sorry about that. He can be a little.. chaotic. I’m Y/N, counselor of Demeter Cabin, and this is Luke, counselor of Hermes Cabin. We can give you a tour, if you want.” You explained, gesturing towards Luke who gave a friendly smile.

“Yeah, sure.” The blond boy replied.

-

“And this is Hermes Cabin, where you’ll be staying.” Luke exclaimed, pointing to the rough looking room.

“Uh, no offense, but why am I staying here?” Percy asked, disgust lingering in his words as he stared down the messy bunks.

“Uh, Offense taken. First of all, we’re definitely the best cabin of all time. And all unclaimed campers stay here, along with children of minor Gods.” The brunette said.

“Hate to break it to you Luke, but Demeter absolutely solos your Cabin.” You cut in, mouth letting out a ‘tsk’ sound. 

“Slow your roll there. Your cabin may be neat, but the amount of plants in there is slightly concerning.” Luke joked, you and him now unknowingly engaged in your own little conversation.

“It’s better than your pig pen!” You shouted, your sweet laugh echoing throughout the area.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He replied, and Percy took a step back, running into an older teen, staring at the “friends” who were flirting right before everyone.

“Do they always act like this?” He asked, referring to their nonstop conversations, and their slight physical touch. Your fleshy fingers were somehow always grazing his calloused skin. 

“Always. It’s sickening.” Chris replied.

“Agreed.” Percy sighed out, as Luke looked back at the two. They both gave an encouraging look, telling him to shoot his shot. 

“Hey, I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to go out to the lake tonight? Just us?” He asked you, throat going dry and knees threatening to buckle as he fidgeted with his thumbs.

“I’d love too, Luke.” You replied, blushing as you swayed nervously.

“Great! It’s a date! Unless you don’t want it to be-“ He was quick to start, but you briefly interrupted.

“I’d like that.” 

#luke castellan #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x demeter reader #liv’s writing !

[darthannie]

potential side effects

pairing: Jonathan Crane x f!reader summary: After giving you an experimental medication, Dr. Crane helps you get over your fear of intimacy.  word count: 2,143 warnings: 18+, minors DNI for the love of god, DARK, rough at points, I’m gonna go ahead and say NONCON, au where Dr. Crane has a private practice, abuse of power, reader is under the influence (kinda like the fear toxin), reader is sleepy, Crane doesn't take no for an answer, dacryphilia, inexperienced!reader, floor sex, spit, fighting back, a smidge of aftercare at the end. a/n: Please do not read if you’re not into what's in the warnings. I had fun experimenting with this one. I tried to be a little more thorough in the warnings. Better safe than sorry. I’m still toying around with Jonathan’s voice. Let me know if you want more of this kind of thing, or something different. I’d love to interact with you guys more!

Dr. Jonathan Crane had been treating you for the better part of a year and was in the midst of creating a new medication regimen for you. Your previous treatment plan was not working as intended, so it was back to the drawing board.

He selected you as the first person to receive an experimental medication. It was meant to be inhaled and doses were to be given during the time of the appointment. You didn’t necessarily know what to expect. He’d briefly mentioned that there may be potential side effects but didn’t go into much detail. 

You were nervous the first time you’d gone in to receive a dose. As you approached the door to his office you felt a lump begin to form in your throat. You knocked and after a moment he opened the door. Jonathan always wore the same thing most of the time. Today he donned a black blazer and slacks with a white button-up. His red tie was placed right at the center of his collar. His dark hair framed his face perfectly. He looks good today, you thought, better than usual. 

You exchanged your normal pleasantries and sat across from him on a couch. His office was spacious and dark. All the furniture was made of wood. In the corner, there was a big bookcase that consisted of books on fear, pharmacology, and different editions of the DSM. The DSM-4 was missing from the shelf, presumably on his desk. 

The room brought you a lot of comfort. It was the only place you ever got to see him. It felt like Dr. Crane was the only person in all of Gotham that understood you. It was his job after all. 

Soon the time came for him to administer the medication. 

“I’m going to spray in front of your face and you’re going to breathe in. It doesn’t take much to be effective.”, he said. 

You nodded and he sprayed. 

Your nerves subsided almost immediately and your mind became quiet.

“Any difference?”, he asked. 

“My mind is silent. All my racing thoughts have stopped.” 

“Good. That means it’s working. Some of the other side effects may begin to set in now.” 

He was right. Like clockwork, you started to get drowsy. It was like someone had given you a little too much Benadryl. It was hard to keep your eyes open. 

“Dr. Crane? Is this normal?” You couldn’t help but drag the ’s’. 

“It’s nothing to worry about. It’s just the medication working. How do you feel?” He seemed a tad on edge as he awaited your answer. 

“I feel all warm inside.” 

He then leaned back against his desk. “Any drowsiness?”

“Lots of it.” You chuckled slightly.

“That is normal.” He said, answering your question. “The medication was likely to make you feel tired.”

“Does it go away?”

“As your body builds up a tolerance, the effects will lessen. Now, I wanted to talk about the recent screenings you filled out. I would like you to check over them and rate their accuracy on a scale from one to five, five being very accurate.” 

He handed you a piece of paper and you looked it over. “Four.”

“Why not five?” His eyebrows furrowed. 

“Number six. ’S worse.” Question number six pertained to your interest in sex. More specifically how terrified you were of having it. 

It was a topic you were working on with Dr. Crane since it impacted your life so much. You were hesitant to mention it at first, but he assured you it was better to talk about it instead of holding it in. So, you spilled every detail. This included your inability to get yourself off and failed hook-up attempts.

You’d try very hard but when it came time for you to do the deed you shut down and found a way out of the situation. You hadn’t been getting out there much because, frankly, the thought of being intimate with someone was frightening. You didn’t know how you’d ever get over it. 

“Have you sought out any partners to help with your fears?”, he asked.

You took a moment to process what he said. “No, I haven’t. I can’t. It’s too-“

“Frightening, yes I remember you using that word.” He removed his glasses before continuing. “I think there’s a way I can help you with that. Personally.”

You yawned. “What do you mean by that doctor?” 

“I can make you feel better.” He looked down at you and brushed your cheek with the back of his hand. 

“How do you mean?” You could hear the apprehension in your voice. He ignored your question and reached down to the hem of your top, lifting it slightly. 

You pulled back a little too quickly and you got a bit dizzy. “I don’t know about that Dr. Crane. I can’t- I’m not well.”

He ignored you. “I think it’ll be easier if I just take you here on the floor.” 

He dragged you off the couch and onto the ground, sitting up. The hardwood was cold to the touch but started to warm under your body. He kneeled next to you. You tried to fight him as he reached for your sweater. He grabbed your wrists to stop you from thrashing around. 

“I would hate to have to tie you up, sweetheart.” You knew he would follow through so you did what he wanted. You stopped fighting back.

He neatly folded and put aside each article of clothing he took off your body. Eventually, you were completely bare in front of him. You were almost too gone to grasp what was going on. Almost. The fear began to creep in and he could tell. Maybe the medication was not working the way he intended it to. Maybe he lied about what it was intended to do. 

You slurred, “Dr. Crane, please don’t- Please don’t do this.” 

He leaned over you and you tried to push him away. He only offered a small smile and reached his hand down between your legs. You whimpered as his fingers moved lightly over your clit. You mewled at the new sensation. You gave in to the feeling and your eyes started to close. When they wouldn’t open again Jonathan lightly slapped your cheek. 

“No, no, no don’t fall asleep. I need you to stay awake for me.”, he said. 

You fought the exhaustion and watched as he used his fingers to tease you. 

He noticed you getting wetter and moved his fingers down to your entrance. He slowly stretched you with two fingers, watching your face as your mouth fell open. 

A tight-lipped smile appeared on his face. He started slow and then moved his fingers in and out very quickly, hitting a new spot until he found the one that made your legs shake. You lied back and let him work on you. All you felt was bliss. No one had ever touched you like that. 

He took his hand away and you whined. This was a first and you were glad you made it this far. This was a win. 

You thought it was over, but then you noticed him unbuttoning his pants. 

Your breath quickened and you put your hand out. “Wait! Please, no! I think I’ve had enough for today.” 

“We’re not done with your treatment yet, princess. Please hold still. It will be easier for the both of us.” 

Your body was made of putty. The side effects had gotten worse. He brought your legs into position before grabbing himself in his hand. He stroked his cock a couple of times before entering you. 

He gave you no time to adjust. His pace was slow but he fucked hard. You gasped at the feeling of him inside you. You’ve never been fucked like this before. But, that didn’t matter to him. All he wanted was to feel you around him. Make you his. 

The sounds in the room sent you reeling. You didn’t know you would moan so much. The sound of his skin hitting yours filled the room along with his heavy breaths and moans. He grabbed your hips as he thrust hard and fast. You were having a hard time coping with all the feelings you were having at once. The fear, exhaustion, and pleasure were beginning to mix. You wanted to scream. Instead, you cried. 

Jonathan moaned at the sight. He loved watching you cry. He’d seen it happen during sessions and couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like if you moaned while you cried. Now he knew. You were unable to keep quiet. Silent cries became sobs which became whimpers. 

He caressed your tear-stained face, “Shhhhhh, hush now it’s alright. You’re doing so well.”

You tried to talk through your tears. “Please Jonathan- Dr. Crane, Make it stop!”

This time he went deeper. You yelped as you felt him hit a new part of you. “I’m not stopping until you tell me it feels good. Tell me, does it feel good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, “it feels good.” 

“Yeah? Are you still frightened? Are you scared of me?”

“Yes.”, you admitted. It was hard for you to get out. How could you ever fear him? All he had ever done was help you. This was just another one of his unorthodox methods. 

He bent forward and put his arms next to your ears, locking his fingers on the top of your head to hold you in place. Your body was limp as he continued fucking you into the floor. Your eyes closed; you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

He shook your head slightly. “No, eyes on me. Look at me.” 

You looked at him wide-eyed. 

“Open your mouth.” You obeyed and he spit in your mouth. In all honesty, you savored the taste. It was another way of him claiming you. 

“Swallow.” When you did he hummed contently. “Good girl.” 

You felt something weird tightening in your core. “Dr. Crane. I feel like I’m gonna-“. 

A long moan came out before you could finish your sentence. He fucked you as you rode your high and soon after his thrusts started to falter. He sat up and grabbed your hip to use as leverage. You mustered up as much energy as you could to move away from him, using your legs to drag yourself across the floor. He was much stronger than you at this point and he pulled you back. 

“No, come here. You’re gonna stay still while I finish. Got it?”

The tears kept flowing, but you obeyed. You lied back as he came inside of you. He stayed inside of you for a minute, savoring the moment. You were tired and blissed out. He pulled out of you without a word. He watched as his cum dropped out of you. 

“What a sight.”, he said matter a factly. He helped you sit up and wiped tears from your face with his thumb. He brought you close to him and kissed your forehead. 

He got up and put himself back together again. He fixed his clothing, tucking in his pristine white shirt and fastening his pants. He fixed his tie and looked past you into a mirror. 

Once satisfied, he grabbed a towel from his desk and cleaned you up. He helped you up to your feet and began dressing you. His demeanor was softer now. He took his time as he got you dressed. Once he was finished he helped you sit on the couch. You curled up into his side, seeking comfort from the man who had just used you. 

You’d never felt more confused. You knew this shouldn’t have happened. Every boundary had been crossed. But, the special attention from him felt better than anything. You fell asleep on his shoulder. He let you sleep on him for a while before he got up to write notes on what had just occurred. He found his glasses, put them on, and returned to his desk to begin writing. He included your reaction to the “medication” and how receptive you were to the treatment.

You woke up about an hour later, confused. You looked around and recognized his office. The memories of earlier events came rushing back. You felt your cheeks get hot.

Jonathan looked up from the paper he was holding up. “Rise and shine.”

He grabbed a sheet of paper from your file. He attached it to a clipboard and grabbed a pen. He handed you the materials and you looked down. It was another questionnaire. 

“Fill this out as accurately as possible.”

“What is it for?” You cleared your throat. He sat back down at his desk and picked up the paper he was previously inspecting. He looked at your file before looking back at you. 

“Our next session.”, he replied. 

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut #i proofread this but no one is perfect #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #dark jonathan crane #dark!jonathan crane #annie writes #dark jonathan crane smut #scarecrow x reader #dr jonathan crane

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 21] || [Chapter 22.5] || [Chapter 23]

Pairing: Ghost x Price || Price x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.8K cw: drunk kissing, cheating (mentioned) Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: we find out what happened in cardiff. i love vulnerable john.

Chapter 22: What is it about you?

“C’mon, Boss, up you go.” Simon told him as he hoisted the man up to his feet by wrapping an arm around the small of his back, and tossing the other over his own shoulders.

“I don’t know how she could do that to me, Simooooon,” John’s words and feet dragged a bit and tripped over each other, uncoordinated due to the excess alcohol.

John was constantly self-sabotaging back then, feeling sorry for himself, mourning his relationship and the wife who took advantage of his common absences to justify her need to step out on him.

When John was sober and busy with work, he was still the same as always: deadly efficient, a good communicator, a great strategist…

But when they went on leave…

It left Simon having to be the one picking up the pieces. Simon’s moved to Cardiff from Manchester many years ago, not quite enjoying Hereford enough to want an off-base flat in the same city as the base, and, now that he’s separated, John’s also moved to Cardiff to stay on Simon’s couch.

Or it would be his couch if he didn’t get pissed every night and leave Simon fearing for his life and the fact he might vomit and suffocate in it in the night, so he carries him to bed every time. The bed might as well have been John’s at that point.

Somehow he was able to wrangle John back to his flat.

He helped the man get into his bedroom and lowered him into bed before he pulled off the beanie from his head, then his boots, tossing his legs onto the bed a bit aggressively while the captain sobbed while lying back on the pillows…

“You’ll be alright, Captain.” Simon always tried to say some kind words to ease the drunk, heartbroken man, though he knew it did little.

Simon was strangely thankful Price was a sad drunk instead of an angry or violent one like his own father.

Simon bent over him to unzip his jacket and then was able to curl the man up against his shoulder in order to shimmy his jacket down his arms, like a toddler.

But something about that touch, almost akin to a hug, awoke something in John.

Just as he lowered the older man’s torso down to the bed and his head onto the pillows, he suddenly found himself unable to move, his shoulders being hugged tight by one of John’s arms.

His face was inches from John’s, their noses almost touching, their eyes locked. John’s blue irises were glassy from the alcohol and the tears.

The look in John’s eyes was freaking him out. He was still crying, but he was eerily quiet, not murmuring utter nonsense or pure vitriol for his wife and her lover…

The Mancunian tried to slip John’s arms off him. “C’mon.” He grumbled as he craned his neck back to try and wrangle off the embrace.

“Stay…” John pleaded, his eyes softening, his brows lowered pitifully.

“I’m right here, Boss.” Simon assured him as he once again tried to take Price’s arm off his vise-like grip around him.

It didn’t work. The grip just got tighter, his body trembling beneath Simon’s. “Please, stay...” He implored.

Before Simon could realize what was happening, his lips had been captured by John’s, a slow, tender thing, almost like John himself wasn’t 100% sure of what he was doing (and he really wasn’t) but wanted to do it nonetheless.

There was no tongue action, just a rubbing of lips and an exchanging of breathy sighs before Simon was smart enough to pull away, eyes a bit widened for what they had just done. 

But Price seemed like he was still on the verge of crying, teetering the edge of his fear of being rejected again. He just needed affection....

Simon’s own eyes softened as he saw the state Price was in. He took a deep breath and pressed his lips together. Giving up on getting out of the embrace, he simply nodded. “Fine. I’m stayin’.”

Carefully, Simon toed off his own shoes and took off his fleece jacket. He tossed everything on the floor haphazardly, before he shifted around the bed in John’s embrace and vaulted over him, coming to lay on the other side of the bed.

John cuddled up to Simon’s body and, tentatively, the blond wrapped his arms around Price’s shoulders and neck as the brunet sunk in the embrace and hid his mustachioed face in Simon’s neck, big burly arms wrapped around the narrower part of his waist.

Price resumed his sobbing, hidden in Simon’s arms, hugging him uncomfortably tight, like a lifeguard buoy in open water. 

Simon ran his fingers over John’s hair, caressing his scalp with his fingertips. “Not going anywhere, John, I promise.” Simon assured him.

-

It’s 10 P.M. and you’re just turning off your TV to move your lounging to the bedroom when the doorbell rings.

Once again, you’re not expecting anyone… But the lads have gotten much better at warning you in advance when they’re dropping by… So it puts you on edge again.

Tip-toeing to the intercom, you murmur into the receiver. “What?”

“It’s John, darling.” The voice of the older man comes through, causing your eyes to widen. What’s he doing here? 

You buzz him in all the same. Only once you hear his knuckles rapping the door, do you open it, finding him standing on the other side.

He’s wearing an army green fleece jacket, a black hoodie, tan cargo pants, and black boots. And he doesn’t look particularly happy.

You let him inside and he has the decency to take off his boots, jacket and beanie, before he gestures you both onto the couch.

The memory of the way he kissed you and tossed you both down onto it last time he was here comes flowing back and you look away and take a breath to suppress it.

“The lads told me about the four of you” He tells you as he looks at you, sitting by your side, your knees just barely brushing, his hands clasped together and hanging between his thighs.

“They did?” You ask him, earning a nod in reply. “You didn’t know this whole time?” You ask again.

“No.” He says simply. “And they didn’t tell you I tore ‘em a new one for what they’re doing?” He returns. 

You shake your head, which makes him sigh. “Figured as much.”

“You need to know that-”

“I promise I don’t-”

You both cut each other off and blink away the confusion before you do that weird shimmy of trying to let the other talk.

He ends up taking the initiative. “You need to know that it’s puttin’ ‘em all at risk to be seein’ you and each other, especially each other. Simon’s my second-in-command… and it’s against the code of conduct for ‘em to be with their ‘boss’.” He explains.

His explanation makes your eyes soften and you look away with a sigh, mirroring his pose and letting your hands hang between your legs. “I didn’t know it’d get ‘em in trouble…” You explain.

Taking another deep breath, you shift around in your seat. “I was about to say I promise I don’t want to get them in trouble or steal them from work or making you have to call like… dozens of times again to get them to come in, because I know that was bad, even if it was an accident but-” You rant a bit.

John’s watching you closely as you justify yourself and them and promise you have the best of intentions, how you like them all so much and you could never dream of getting them in trouble and…

“What is it about you?” He interrupts you, causing you to face him suddenly and stare at him.

“Pardon?” You ask him, blinking slowly before raising your brows.

“Why… Why them? All of them?” He asks.

Your face scrunches a bit, your brow setting over your eyes. “Are you trying to insult me? That feels insulting.” You grumble.

He sighs and shakes his head, before rubbing his eyes with his middle finger. “No. I- I’m sorry.” He says as earnestly as he can. “Just trying to understand.”

“Some people have a thing for men in uniform but that means they date multiple of ‘em across a number of years… They don’t usually form a… harem with ‘em all at once.” He explains.

The idea of a harem makes your face flush warm and look away. “I don’t know.” You reply directly. “Maybe there’s just something wrong with me.” You say directly. 

John keeps staring at you as you speak. “I went from a very unfulfilling relationship, I don’t know if I ever mentioned that to you-”

“You did, at the pub.”

“Right, well…” You trail off. “I went from that to… being alone… and then to having a one-night stand with you and then… it was like I woke up one day and had three boyfriends.” You remark and scratch your arm awkwardly.

John’s face scrunches, his mouth disappearing beneath his mustache as he keeps looking at you closely, noticing how awkward you seem. 

“I really don’t want to get them in trouble…” You tell him as you glance up at him, the corners of your eyebrows lowering as you look at him.

He goes quiet for a moment, simply making eye contact with you, as if trying to read your intentions through your pupils.

Then, his hand reaches across the space between you and he gently cups both your hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “You really like ‘em all, don’t you?”

“Mhm.” You reply and nod.

Sighing, he nods. “Just try to keep from kissing in public to a minimum, will ya? Don’t need the brass knowing and having my arse too.” He tells you.

Smiling and chuckling again. “Wouldn’t you, in that case, be in more trouble because you started this whole thing?” You joke.

He nudges your thigh with his knee and rolls his eyes playfully. “Don’t you start, too… I already had to deal with Soap, Gaz and Ghost making comments.” He complains.

“Oh, please… Ghost told me all about how peppy you seemed after that night you spent with me.” You retort and he rolls his eyes again before he taps his thighs with his palms and stands up off the couch.

“I needed it. Did me good.” He replies as he moves back to the door and puts his shoes on.

You follow after him, watching him closely as he puts his outdoor clothes back on. “Did me good too.” You reply.

He chuckles a bit. “Oh, trust me, darlin’, I remember fully well how ‘good’ I did you.” He jokes and winks at you.

“Oh, shut it…” You grumble as you watch him open your door and stand just outside of it, looking at you closely.

“Shame it’ll never happen again. I could’ve used a repeat.” John quips casually. “Have a goodnight.” He kisses your temple and starts walking down the hall.

“Wait, hold on!” You interrupt him, causing him to stop a few feet away, looking at you in the brightly lit hall. Clearing your throat, you swallow dryly before you lock eyes with him and speak again: “What’s stopping it from happening again?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

FLASHBACK FULLY INSPIRED BY:

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚 #it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost x price #john price x reader #Spotify

[donutz]

Yandere Smiling Critters x male child reader

Request from Wattpad-! Here you go Dracunyan1987☆

An employee escorted you to Playcare, after the train ride and Elliot’s long speech of course. You were a new kid added to the bunch. You’ve been hanging around in Playtime co for a while, so the employees told the upper staff, then they told Elliot.

Elliot instructed them for you to stay at Playcare, so you’re here now. This place was huge. There’s… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... 5 buildings, you counted. You looked up at the ‘sky’, and saw ‘clouds’. Further up, you could see glass, is that the real sky?

The same employee escorted you over to home sweet home, and you were pretty shy, due to you being new to the huge place. The tons of people, toys, big buildings, it's all so new. And kind of scary, due to the big toys. But you do like one.

Kissy… Missy? You think that's her name. She's really sweet.

You entered Home Sweet Home and saw a bunch of kids running around. And… Are those animals..? A dog, a bunny, a bear, a chick—

“Oh, hello!” Somebody greeted you, being out of your vision so you had to turn around.

“You’re new here right?” You nodded your head, being a little surprised by the sudden interaction.

“Ok! I’m PickyPiggy! What’s your name?” You said yours, and she brightened up by that. Even if you were shy, you could at least introduce yourself. Hm. You’re an interesting one.

“Here, follow me! I’ll introduce you to the other critters!” You raised your eyebrows at that, there’s more? How many? You hope there isn’t too much.

Picky took you somewhere, hopefully actually taking you to the critters. She did, no worries.

“Guys! There’s a new kid and—” The other critters were dealing with the kids, not having time for introducing themselves. “Oh.. Uhm..” 

Dogday was dealing with telling kids not to be rude. Kickin was trying to get his soccer ball back from the kids. Craftycorn was trying to get her art supplies back from little 5 year olds. Bobby was being crowded by random 7 year olds. Bubba was looking for his math papers, that were stolen by kids. And Hoppy was being dragged around by younger children.

You, as a 6 year old, not knowing what’s going on, couldn’t even take a bit of charge. So you were standing there, waiting for something(other than this) to happen. Picky was getting impatient, so she raised her voice, just a little ^_^!

“GUYS! THERE IS A NEW KID HERE!! YOU NEED TO INTRODUCE YOURSELVES!!!!” It went quiet. Nobody expected for a critter to raise their voice! Picky had no problem though.

“... Oh uhm! E- Everybody gather at your tables and PLEASE resume your activities!” Dogday spoke up, if he could sweat, he would, he’s never seen or heard Picky yell before…

You hid behind Picky, somewhat trusting her more than anybody else at this place. Also you were shy. And new. I’ve said that already, right?

Dogday saw your shyness and reassured you, “It’s okay little one! This place is safe! Even with the chaotic kids… Anyways, we are the smiling critters! I’m Dogday! … Guys, introduce yourselves—”

“I’m KickinChicken! I like sports—”

“ANYWAYSS!! I’m Hoppy Hopscotch! I’m the better version of Kickin!” “HEY!”

“I’m Bobby Bearhug, I do love.. Stuff..”

“I’m Craftycorn! I do art, and accentuate creativity!”

“I’m Bubba Bubbaphant! The ‘smart one’, that’s what the kids call me…”

“I’m sure Picky Piggy already introduced herself to you, right?”

You nodded your head, still being behind her. You were such a cutie!

“Alright! There’s one more, but he’s.. Somewhere… I’m not sure where he is…” You looked around, trying to see if that ‘he’ is in the room.

“D- Do you mean that one..?” You asked, pointing to a high area. It looked like nothing was there, but you could see his white beady eyes in the shadows.

“Oh! Yeah! That’s Catnap!” Dogday said.

You stayed staring at him. Slightly wondering why he was up there and not down here. He seemed mysterious, especially with that purple color.

“Oh and— What’s your name buddy?” You tensed up, you have to say your name… Again?

Picky saw that you didn’t really like speaking that much, so she did it for you. “Okay kiddo! Would you like to do the activities, or take a tour of the place?” Well, you were hungry, but he didn’t state it as an option.

Your stomach spoke for you, saying you were hungry with a loud rumble. Some of the critters giggled from it, “Guys… Anyways, you’re hungry right? Do you want some food?”

You nodded your head. No duh you’d want some food.

After eating, you wanted a tour of the place. There were a ton of rooms, but since you came out of nowhere, there wasn’t really a room ready for you. The critters had a room, so you could stay there when it was time to sleep.

The critters now having an introduction, and a bright smile, you could trust them. For now.

You did the activity with Picky by your side, because you trusted her the most. You quickly did the activity, proving your smarts to somebody. Bubba Bubbaphant. He found you quite the smart kid, and it’s your first day here!

Good job.

For the next few weeks of being at Playcare, you had a lot of reasons for the critters to like you, you were also clingy to them, so they can’t ever be lonely.

They wanted to keep you here, particularly getting a little bit more mad than usual if somebody was rude to you. One time a kid stole your art supplies, Craftycorn got more mad than usual, she was kind of holding back on fully outlashing at the kid.

… You were doing something to them.

They didn’t want you to have your own room. They wanted to keep you in theirs.

Hm. You wanted to meet Catnap, but couldn’t, he didn’t come out at day, he came out at night. And at night, you were asleep. What if you secretly stayed up one day?

“Good night everybody!” Dogday said, everybody said it back, but you didn’t. (Almost) All of the critters noticed this, wondering why you didn’t respond back like you usually do.

“What if I stayed up..? I wanna see uh, Catnap. That’s his name, I think.” The critters looked at each other, communicating whether it was a bad idea. “Well, the workers never come in here. So we won’t really get in trouble..” Kickin spoke up.

They all agreed to stay up, for some time, not pull an all-nighter or something. They’re all talking, while you were silent. Finally, the sound of a door creaked open. There he was! Catnap!

It went quiet again, you got out of ‘your’ bed(Which is Catnap’s) and went up to the cat. You two stared at each other. You didn’t know what to say, Catnap didn’t want to talk. It wasn’t awkward, for you two at least. The other critters didn’t know what to do in this situation.

You let out your arms, signifying you wanted a hug. The other critters were wary about that, Catnap wasn’t really into that stuff, especially when it came to children.

But, he actually hugged you! Everybody in the room was bewildered by this! You really are the chosen one! Yeah you’re staying here.

Forever. Hopefully.

A/N|| I almost broke my back putting in the different colors on my computer🤣🤣

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #smiling critters #dogday #catnap #dogday x reader #catnap x reader #picky piggy #picky piggy x reader #hoppy hopscotch x reader #hoppy hopscotch #kickinchicken #bobby bearhug #bobby bearhug x reader #bubba bubbaphant #bubba bubbaphant x reader #craftycorn #craftycorn x reader #male reader #male child reader #smiling critters x reader #smiling critters x male child reader #smiling critters x male reader #smilign critters x child reader

[imaginesmai]

Right around the corner (3) - Azriel

LISTEN I CAN EXPLAIN if you've been here for a while now, you can expect this part. If not, may I present myself - hi, I'm Mai and I'm an angst queen bitch. Fourth part already on the way, don't worry!

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

Plot: the turth comes out, but in a way Azriel didn't expect.

Warnings: prepare tissues.

Azriel had taken his time to process the words, and in the meanwhile, he had received so many notes from his family that he had his hands full of small paper balls.

There were notes from Feyre updating him of the screaming match between Cassian and Rhysand, long texts from Mor promising him the house was a safe place for you and that he better hurry to bring you out. Even Amren had written a brief ‘I knew it, boy’ that had him more worried than before.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want you to meet them. He loved his family like nothing else, and knew they would only be supportive and kind to his new status. Him being mated or not didn’t change the way they saw him, but part of him – the part that had felt rejection from his mother and his blood-family, was scared.

Azriel ended up sitting in the kitchen counter in front of you with a frown and a growing headache. Even though it was late and you had had a long day, you instantly noticed his mood.

“What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t unusual for Azriel to go quiet in your presence. You had learned by then that it didn’t mean you did something wrong. Most of the times, it was his insecurities popping up randomly in his mind, the troubles of the day dragging him away from you.

And through the years, you had learned that there was nothing else to do but to stay close to him and remind him that he was there. Right with you, and that you loved him.

Still, as you stared at him that night, you noticed it wasn’t the usual frown. He snuck glances at you and moved from the couch, where he was banned, to the kitchen. You left the bowl aside and stood in front of him, one arm extended so he could hold your hand.

“How do you know Feyre?” he asked, not taking your hand.

“Feyre as… the high lady?”

“Yeah. You greeted her the other day. You two know each other?”

“Guess so. She has her art study right in front of my bakery, haven’t you noticed?” you answered, not understanding the nature of the question. “When she moved in, I baked her a welcome to the neighborhood pie and she has actually painted two of the pictures I hang on the wall”

“Feyre painted pictures for you?” Azriel raised an eyebrow. “Are you two friends?”

“Well, not friends per say, but we know each other. That’s what usually happens when you work in front of someone else’s work” you shrugged, you open hand still empty. “Why?”

“I didn’t know you knew her”

“Should you know I know her? For any specific reason?”

“It would have been nice to know you know my high lady. My brother’s mate”

“Now you know. What’s with all this ‘you know I know’? Why does it matter?”

You didn’t understand why but there was an annoyed edge on his voice that you didn’t like. As a morning person, you usually went to bed early, and any minute past midnight was a minute you were supposed to be asleep. No matter how nice it was to spend time with Azriel and how good he had made you feel an hour ago, now you were annoyed.

The male stared at you, still not answering your silent call for his hand. One of his many shadows crossed the table and jumped at the chance of tangling between your fingers. That would have been enough to make you laugh any other day.

That night, you just stared at each other.

“Az, why are you so – “

“Because you should have told me, Y/N” he cut you off. “You know how important my family is to me, and I think it’s fair to ask that if you know any of them you should tell me. So I’m prepared for this”

“What’s this exactly? Late night discoveries about my neighbors?”

Azriel was quiet for a moment, frustration clear in his features. It was a stupid argument over a stupid situation, and Azriel being on his underwear and you only on his t-shirt without panties didn’t make it any less stupid. You rarely argued, and when you did, it was you who had the pointless argument and Azriel the calm one.

His shadows moved behind the couch and dumped in front of you a bunch of papers. They were all wrinkled and Azriel didn’t have time to hide them or think about how to approach the situation before a new one popped out of thin air. It landed next to your open hand, his shadow catching it and unfolding the content.

Does she eat cereal straight from the box? Is it why you’re hiding her?

You didn’t need to think hard to know it was talking about you, and who the note belonged to. In the past, Rhysand had sent notes to Azriel while you were having a shower together, in bed together, and one had even appeared inside your oven while he was helping you around.

“Feyre told them about you” Azriel explained, having read the note upside down. “And because I didn’t know you knew her, now they are deeply offended and want to meet you”

It took you a while to make sense to his words, because you couldn’t find the problem past you not telling him about Feyre. Quickly, you read some of the notes where Cassian threatened Azriel and Rhysand demanded his presence. They were friendly notes, no harm in them. Still, you couldn’t understand the utter sadness until you realized the meaning behind his annoyance.

Finally, you pulled your hand back to your side, not with little resistance from the shadow. You must have opened the bond channel because Azriel frowned, hit with sadness instead of the usual love.

The first note, where Rhysand explained that Feyre had told him, was what brought it all together.

“You haven’t told them you have a mate”

It occurred to you that you had believed it done with no proofs. You didn’t mind Azriel being at your house, living in your apartment. You didn’t mind having separate Starfall and lives. You didn’t mind either when he left for a family dinner and kissed you goodbye, because you understood his need of privacy, of having something that was just his.

What you didn’t understand until that moment that he hadn’t even told them you existed. And through all the reasons that ran to your mind at his silence, you couldn’t pick just one.

“It’s not that they don’t know me. They don’t know you’re mated”

“You agreed when I said I need to take things slowly. That I needed time” he blurted out suddenly, your sadness making space for his annoyance. “The bond was a surprise for me. I didn’t want to rush things”

“Azriel it’s been six years. Six! It’s not a casual fling or a one-night stand” you tried to voice your hurt, your sadness. “It’s not the same not meeting them that being a secret”

“It’s not like I keep you a secret. They haven’t asked and I haven’t – “

“Because you haven’t told them! What – How do you explain the days you spend here? And the… I – Azriel, we’ve been dating for six years and they haven’t asked?”

“They’re used to me sneaking around”

“For months?” you chuckled. “We were locked here for months after we mated. How did you explain that?”

His words were background noise because, above his absences, there was something you realized they should have noticed. Something anyone noticed from mated pairs as soon as they left the house. White noise filled your ears as he tried to excuse himself by talking about missions.

About your safety, about the worry of something happening to you if they discovered you were his mate.

Azriel blurred in front of you as realization hit you and tears filled your eyes. You could barely hold it together as you spoke.

“You’ve been hiding the mating bond” your breath hitched, because if there was something more important than your bakery, it was your bond. “They should have smelt it. But you’ve been hiding it”

“I didn’t hide it, please, don’t say it like that” his voice broke at the end, willing you to listen to him.

“Right. Because you can’t hide the bond from them unless you don’t accept it” you saw the moment your words hit him, the guilt in the way his shadows almost clouded your vision and his wings flared. “You didn’t accept the bond”

Azriel didn’t answer and, worse than any other betrayal or pain, it broke your heart. You remembered offering him the lemon pie, him tearing up and eating. Accepting the bond was an individual decision, one he should have made years ago – just like you did.

You still shared it; you still were mates. The only difference was that, while you proudly loved him and adored each part of his body and soul, he had rejected your smell on him, your imprint on his own.

An invisible hand cut off your air supply and your breath hitched. You covered your mouth with your hand and muffled the sob, but he felt the exact moment your heart broke. Even if he didn’t show it to the world, he could still feel you. Your feelings, your essence. His own eyes teared up and now he extended his hand forward.

A silent invitation, the same you had given him so many times when he was in need of comfort, of love.

But that time, you didn’t reach forward nor acknowledge the shadows that tried to pull you closer to him.

“Get out”

“Darling”

“Get out” you pointed a shaky finger towards the door.

“Y/N, please. It’s not what you’re thinking” he tried to explain, his voice broken by his sorrow. “I accepted the bond. I just – “

“Get the fuck out now!”

The bowl that you had been filling with lettuce, salmon and other vegetables flew from the desk to where he was standing. His shadows, by their own consciousness or his master’s, didn’t stop it as it crashed against his chest. It spilled all over his naked chest, and before he could clean it, there was another tray with grilled pork on your hand.

Azriel’s last look to you was of pure despair and sorrow. He winnowed away before the second tray could hit him, leaving you with his shadows already cleaning up the mess.

As soon as he was out of sight, you fell down to your knees and sobbed.

-

He didn’t have a plan, and when he winnowed away, the last thing on his mind was the sound of your heart breaking. There was no way he would go to his house and face his family, not when he wasn’t even sure what had happened in your apartment. Couldn’t start to comprehend the pain he had caused you and how much he hated himself for it.

So, without planning to, he ended up in the cabin.

The old wooden walls and ceiling greeted him, different from the ones he remembered from his past. Feyre had added drawings everywhere, there were clothes scattered around, and food that was still edible.

No matter how familiar the sight was, it offered him no comfort.

Azriel dragged his wings through the floor and sat on the couch. Propping his elbows on his knees, he hid his face as the first tear rolled down. Followed by many more.

He replayed your hurt voice once more, your face. It hadn’t been his intention to reject the bond, not really. But he hadn’t run away from it.

It took him two weeks of uncertainty to know that he hadn’t taken it the way you had. While you radiated with his scent, people didn’t ask him. He walked past Cassian during training and his friend just teased him for being disappeared for a month. Rhysand commented about having to report to him every now and then, and Amren didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

That was how he discovered that he had to accept his part of the mating process. He had to be proud, to want it, in order to complete it.

But you had been so happy, so full of joy and love, that Azriel had feared that telling you about it would make you sad. Eventually, he had learned how he should have done it – but at that moment, he didn’t know. Besides, he could still sneak whenever he wanted to without explanations. So he hadn’t said anything.

The first year rolled by, and he spent a good amount of days panicking about how to deal with the situation. The second year passed and you didn’t ask about it, neither did his family. By the fourth year, he had almost forgotten about it.

Azriel’s loud sob broke the silence of the cabin. His chest contracted and his body shock. It was different from any type of suffering, of pain, he had ever felt. He could still feel the echo of your own through the bond, could hear your cries in the distance.

In the lonely cabin, under the moon light, the shadowsinger sobbed and cried until his voice was raw. He was angry at himself, at his past and his traumas, even angry at you. Because now that he knew what it felt to be complete, to be happy and safe in someone’s love, he couldn’t bear the thought of not having it.

His body gravitated to the side and he curled himself in a ball, still in his underwear. It reminded him of when he was a kid and would try to hide himself in the dark cell, cowering in his fear and desperation.

As if he was a kid all over again, Azriel let his wings cover his body and cried. Cried until he couldn’t remember his name, until he was begging the Cauldron to turn back time and let him accept the bond. Carry you on his arm around Velaris and don’t let the fear take control of his life.

He felt like punching a hole through the wall. Like flying thousand feet up and letting go in free fall. Maybe get into a bar fight and let everything out. But his body was anchored to that couch, to that pain. Azriel pressed his closed fists into his chest, trying to relief some of the pressure.

While he wondered if that was what having his heart ripped from his chest fell, he forgot to keep his mental shields up.

Letting Rhysand in.

-

The house of wind had been chaos for a few hours.

Rhysand had tried to manage the situation by himself, wide awake in bed while processing Feyre’s words. He willed himself to sleep, to rest and leave the pondering for the morning. But when he tried to close his eyes, he could see Azriel covered in blood and killing an entire camp because an illegal wing clipping. He could notice the faint, new smell in the house that he hadn’t noticed.

If he had his eyes open, he couldn’t help but look at Nyx’s new toy.

So, Rhysand had woken up Cassian, after Azriel hadn’t answered his notes. And Cassian had been mad. Angry, furious, raging. The general had talked nonsense about berries for a while and then he begged Rhysand to wake up Feyre and find Azriel to interrogate them.

And, who was the high lord to deny a late-night gossiping session?

Feyre had been mad but she had told them that Azriel had a mate that worked in front of her art studio, in a bakery. That you were nice and cheerful, that you had been mated for six years.

That was when Cassian lost it and woke up the whole house.

Now, all the members of the inner circle had gathered in the council room with their pajamas on.

“Maybe it’s not true. Feyre, you might have had imagined it”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Feyre raised her eyebrows at Cassian.

“I’m just saying he would have told me! We’re brothers. And we don’t keep secrets in this house. Never.”

“You don’t keep secrets” Amren cut him off, not looking at him. “Your bean brain is too simple to keep any type of secrets from us, but that doesn’t mean all of us are exhibitionist”

“I’m not – “

“You are an exhibitionist. You announce everything, Cas. Even a fart” Mor corrected him before he could defend himself.

“Sorry for being kind enough to not keep secrets from my family” he frowned, turning to look at Rhys. “You keep secrets from me?”

“I don’t keep secrets from you” Rhys assured him, half a smile.

“He threw the sword you gifted Nyx for his birth and told you Bryaxis took it so you wouldn’t look for it”

Feyre looked at her mate with a raised eyebrow, daring him to say anything else. With a wide-awake Nyx in her arms, she looked at threatening as the Hybern army. She had yet to talk to him privately, but Rhysand knew he was up for a long talk. So he bit his lip and turned to Cassian. Who, of course, looked completely broken and defeated.

The rest of the group was silent, barely keeping their smiles to themselves. Even Nesta, who had a hand on his shoulder, was looking at Feyre with approval. Cassian stared at Rhysand for a long second before he talked.

“It was a nice sword”

“For a teenager, maybe. For a baby, not” Feyre answered again. “Weren’t you just talking about Azriel’s betrayal and secrets?”

“I, for one, knew he was hiding something” Amren commented for the third time. “Just saying I noticed. And you didn’t”

“Not all of us are creeps that stare and don’t talk. We have social lives to take care of” Mor said.

“Some of you do talk. Maybe too much”

Rhysand tuned out Amren and Mor argument when he felt a crack through Azriel’s mental barriers. He had been tugging at them softly to know where his brother was. Feyre had talked him out of the idea of barging in uninvited and demanding answers – at least, he had talked Amren and Mor out of it. Rhysand and Cassian were still unconvinced.

That was why he had kept a talon poking at his mental barriers since the argument started, thinking it wouldn’t be successful.

But then, Azriel opened it unconsciously and Rhysand brought a hand up to his chest.

Everyone fell quiet as the high lord scrunched his eyebrows and pressed his lips together, not ready for the wave of emotions and pain Azriel was feeling at the moment.

Feyre’s hand was instantly on him, Nyx looking up to his father with a pout that would surely turn into a crying session soon. Before the baby could start crying or any of his friends could ask him about it, Rhysand accepted Feyre’s help and got up from his chair.

“He’s at the cabin” he announced, already summoning his darkness to swallow Cassian and him there. “We’ll keep you updated”

Nyx’s loud cry was the last thing they heard as they winnowed away. And the first one they heard from the cabin, was Azriel’s broken one.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Right around the corner taglist:

@lesliemurillo @impossibelle @polli05927 @florencemtrash @going-through-shit @minakay @setayeshmohseni @torchbearerkyle @esposadomd @amysangel @kennedy-brooke @originalcrusadetrash @luvmoo @historygeekqueen @marriedtolike18fictionalmen @wallacewillow0773638 @tothestarsandwhateverend @kristalhi @knmendiola @nikt-wazny-y

#imaginemai #imaginesmai #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar one shot #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #acotar x reader #acotar x your #acotar x you #cassian #rhysand #feyre #mor #amren #azriel #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel actoar #shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #imagines mai #imagine mai #x reader #one shot #fic

[highhhfiveee]

Mike x reader, with reader who works long hours during the daytime and Mike working at night which results in them barely having time to see eachother besides from dinner and bedtime

oh, you wanted angst fr 🥲 i think it could go either way, but honestly angst is what stood out to me first. i’m going to make this sadder too, just because i can 💜

to crumble (mike schmidt x reader)

tags/warnings: angst, pain, prescription drug mentions, fluff and cuteness in the beginning but not for long. mike fucks up, reader picks up his slack. things just don’t work! let me know if i missed anything! mndi.

this is long, sorry ;-; there are also probably a million errors in this, please ignore 💜

part 2 here: 🏳️

all i can think ab is the unbearable pain that replaces the love in your hearts as time goes on.

you’ve been together for half a year. things were fun at first, but once you decide to move in to help with abby, you start to see the cracks in the foundation.

in this one, reader works two jobs (bc let’s face it, this is unfortunately realistic); teaching from 9-4 and cashiering from 5-8:30. mike doesn’t want you working two jobs and you didn’t want to, but you knew that your salaries combined wouldn’t keep you afloat. abby’s school is expensive, and so is everything else in life. the extra money you get from cashiering gives you guys flexibility.

every morning at 6:30, monday to friday, you wake up alone. even though you know it’ll probably be empty, you still reach your arm over to run it over mike’s side. it’s always cold and flat, completely untouched.

you brush this off at first; it's one of the things that comes with him working overnight and you know he needs this job so that he can keep abby. you want that for him and know that love is sacrifice.

you wake abby up and start getting her ready in between fixing yourself up; brushing her teeth while you brush yours, letting her get a few more minutes of sleep in while you throw on your clothes, guiding her through packing her bag while you make breakfast. by that time, closer to 7:30, mike is finally walking into the house.

his eyes are hooded and surrounded by dark bags and you can tell he's exhausted from the way he hangs his things up lethargically. he kisses abby, who's running around collecting things, on the head, then ambles over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing along your neck.

they're soft, gentle actions that make you forget about not being able to do things like this at night. it doesn't matter when you have mornings with him, even if it's only 30 minutes before you have to go. you giggle and reach a hand up to his cheek, kissing him on his other one.

"missed you," you whisper.

"missed you too," he mumbles back, planting a kiss on your lips before stalking away to ask abby something.

you all eat breakfast together, and then you're slipping abby's coat over her shoulders before you put on your own. you usher her to the car and give mike one last kiss before you leave, a deep one that you hope he feels all day. when you pull away, you can see the affection sparkling in his eyes, low and tired but expressive nonetheless.

"i love you," he whispers, his sleepiness masquerading as love-drunkeness.

"i love you, mike. get some rest, okay?"

you drop abby off, wishing her well, before you're alone for the next 12 hours. it often drags. at your teaching job, you feel as if it's just passing you buy in waves, everything whizzing past you at light speed. you're aware that you're in front of the kids, but then you just blackout. you're thrown into autopilot, and you do this over and over until your lunch break at 1. you text mike to pass the time.

sometimes it's something silly, like "god i do not get paid enough" or "a kid just ate glue /: send help", to which mike will respond "😂😂😂" or "lol you deserve millions (:". he makes you laugh, and it's enough to help you push through the end of the day.

he picks up abby from school, asking her all about her day and what she wants for dinner. he'll text you what she says so you know what to expect when you get home, like "meatloaf 🍖🍞 (:" or "chicken alfredo 0: fancy".

for you, transitioning from teaching to customer service was easy; all you had to do was maintain that same autopilot: smile on, eyes alert, prepared for anything. no one suspected a thing when you could keep up and answer their questions.

mike helps abby with her homework, scratching his head with the eraser of a pencil when he draws blanks on a math or history question. abby only sighs, telling him about something off-topic. "art class is much more interesting."

mike starts dinner while you're closing up at work, sweeping the front end of the store and counting down your drawer. he lets abby help sometimes, and they usually have it ready for you by the time you're home at 9.

abby meets you at the door, and you hug her tight, picking her up and waltzing her back into the house. mike is setting the dining table, greeting you with a sleepy smile and, "the queen has arrived."

you all sit down and eat, and it's another one of those moments where everything feels okay. the last 12 hours didn't matter when you were able to have this at the end of it.

you tell abby and mike about your day over spaghetti, spilling details about prideful parents and spiteful customers. abby laughs all throughout, asking questions about being a cashier. mike just listens, eyes and heart floating between the two of you.

you clear the table while mike goes to get ready for work, and a wash of dread passes over you. your brain knows what's happening next. you'll kiss him goodbye, clinging to his hoodie sleeve for a second longer than you should, and then you'll settle down with abby, bathing her and reading her to sleep. then you'll be alone. it will just be you and the screech of infomercials until midnight, and then you'll be off to sleep, snuggling into a pillow that smells like mike.

you push the feeling away, shaking your head and hands and doing just as you know. there's the kiss, the night routine with abby, and the moment you sit on the couch, surrounded by tv light and the croaking of cicadas.

mike doesn't text during his shift unless it's an emergency. it makes you sad, but you understand. security requires focus, and you require sleep.

for a while, this works. it's what you and mike have to do to make ends meet, and while you both think that it'll only get better with more time at it, it doesn't.

you still wake up alone and go through the same rhythm, but when mike comes in around 7:30, it's not 7:30 anymore. it's 7:39, then 7:45, then 7:58. the latest he's ever been, so late that you're not able to eat with him. he shrugs it off when you mention it, kissing your cheek and retreating to the bedroom to sleep.

you drop abby off as usual, and go to work. work. work. work.

mike starts missing your lunch break texts, sometimes dozing dangerously close to when abby's school lets out. while your class works, you bitterly stare at your text conversation. your unanswered "shaping america's future is kinda sick" message stares back at you until it's replaced by abby's school calling. your heart drops to your stomach as you step out of the room to take the call, answering the phone with, "is she okay?"

mike didn't pick her up. she's out at 2:30 and it's 3:30 now, and she's crying and scared because he didn't pick up the phone, and she always calls him first.

you leave work in a flurry, asking a fellow teacher to take over, and you speed to abby's school, not caring about tickets or police or anything. you only want to get her home.

mike is dashing out of the door when you pull up, wrenching a sobbing abby out of your backseat and clutching her close. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry," he breathes, smoothing her hair and looking up at you with regret etched into every feature on his face.

you try your best to hide your upset, ushering everyone inside before changing into your work clothes. you were going to be late, but you shake it off. abby was home and that was all that mattered.

"hey," mike reaches out to you when you're on your way out. his fingers graze their way down to your hand, and it makes you wish that you could stay home. "thanks for that. i've just been super tired lately and i overslept and---"

"it's okay, baby," you give him a tight lipped smile and a kiss on the knuckles. "just don't let it happen again."

it happens again. and again. and again. it happens so many times that abby starts to think mike is forgetting about her, and you don't know how to get that out of her head. she cries about it more and more with each time you have to pick her up. he stops running out to apologize, still asleep inside.

you rush into the bedroom. he's splayed out over the bed, snoring loudly with his arm hanging over the side. you find an orange pill bottle on his nightstand. an old ambien prescription.

you argue with him before work sometimes.

"what do you need ambien for?"

"i can't sleep."

"but every morning, you skip breakfast to sleep."

"i do fall asleep, but i started waking up out of it. i just take the ambien to help me fall again."

"what time do you take it?"

"i don't know, y/n."

"why are you lying to me?"

"i'm not."

"what time?" you cry, grasping at your chest. a sharp pains thud through your ribcage, and you literally sob. it feels like your heart is tearing in two. "you stare at times, mike. what time do you take the ambien?"

he doesn't answer you and he doesn't know why. it would be so easy to tell you that he takes it at 9 or 10, and that he believes he'll be able to wake himself up around 2 but he doesn't. he can’t sleep without the ambien. he needs it now because he kept himself up in the early days of this, mind toiling over their situation, the endless reassurance that this would work sending him into insomnia.

you leave when he doesn't answer, wiping at your watery eyes and runny nose.

you cashier as a shell of yourself. abby stops asking mike for homework help, and eventually he stops cooking dinner too, trading all that time in for extra sleep after picking her up. you have to explain the situation to your retail store manager, just in case mike forgets again, and start looking after abby more. mike only ever made time to spend with her on the weekends, content with awkward moments over lunch and low energy bickering.

the lunch break texts stop. the dinner texts stop.

he's dressed and ready to leave when you get home these days, prepared to exit as you enter. you don't know what to say as you face each other in the doorway, eyes focused on anything but each other. you don’t even kiss anymore.

"i think abby's asleep already."

you shake your head. "i think she's really sad. she hasn't been coming out of there like she used to. she misses you."

"i miss her too, of course. i'm just busy."

"all you do is work, mike," you deadpan, exhausted with him. you never thought you'd ever get to a point where you looked at mike, the sure love of your life, with disdain, but you felt it creep into you ever so slightly.

"yeah, i know. it fucking sucks, but it's what i have to do to keep abby."

you scoff, scooting past him to take your coat and bag off. "as if you're going to keep her by leaving her at school everyday." it's supposed to be under your breath, but the disdain creeps onto your tongue, bitter and raging, and you say it aloud, to his face.

his jaw clenches and his brown eyes burn, staring you down with an unrelenting severity. you hunch yourself over, dropping your head and sighing out, "mike, i'm sorry. i didn--"

he leaves without another word.

how it got to this, neither of you know. not even the weekends healed anymore. mike caught up on sleep, you caught up on grading, and in your downtime, you avoided each other. for him, it felt easier than being around you. you were irritable all the time, a quick fuse with any word he could think to speak.

for you, it seemed like it was what he wanted. time away from you, from abby, from everyone; time to be alone and recharge for the only thing he ever did, the only thing that was keeping his sister in his care.

you didn't even remember what his touch felt like, what he tasted like. the man that you loved had become but a memory, a ghost that passed through your plane. you’re able to imagine his fluffy hair, his perfect smile, his laugh, his rich smell, but none of it mattered. he didn’t feel like yours anymore.

you suppose it was the same for him, with you existing in the same space but only tangible to him some of the time. he would catch glimpses of your smile, laughing at something on your phone, or talking to abby, meet your eyes when you shuffled back to the bedroom from the bathroom, rimmed in red from crying for the last 30 minutes.

he starts sleeping on the couch, unable to even lay beside you.

mike does a lot of crying. a lot of screaming into his pillow, wondering why he fucks these things up so badly. you do the same, wondering why you stay in situations that hurt you.

this goes on for longer than you two would like, so long that you don't even celebrate your one-year anniversary.

the day passes without noise, mike sleeping and you working.

a prequel of sorts : x

THIS WAS SO FUCKING LONG MY BBBBBBBB OMG. i did NOT mean to go this deep in, i just felt SOOOOO MUCH! my little brain got sad ): i could go deeper into this too one day, breaking up moments into specific little blurbs or ficlets d: let me know if y'all even enjoyed this lmaooo off to write for Halloween lol

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt angst #fnaf angst #fnaf movie #fnaf #fnaf fic #faire’s mike schmidt <3 #this was painful #kind of tired so it may be ass but #it feels painful #imagine your relationship just falling to pieces 💔 #i made this so long #whoops #faire is writing stuff #josh hutcherson

[cupid-styles]

december with you

the tattoorry christmas one shot is finally here :D I know you guys really loved their original story so I hope people like this little look into their life together during the holiday season!!!!

read only angel (the original series) here

word count: 4.2k

content warnings: mentions of y/n's terrible parents, smut (dirty talk, a bit of degradation, mutual masturbation, tiny bit of impact play, grinding, daddy kink)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

December 5, 2023

"Have you ever had a real Christmas tree?"

Y/N and Harry are currently both bundled up in layers of sweaters, scarves, and puffy jackets, but their fingers are still messily intertwined and hidden in Harry's coat pocket. They're walking back to his place from the shop after a long day of work and school, and Y/N can't help but gaze longingly at the Christmas tree salesman across the way. There's an array of forest green trees and wreaths, the comforting balsam and pine scent creating a fragrant wintertime cloud around them. 

Harry's so focused on braving the cold with his girl that it takes him a moment to register that she's said anything at all. He thinks for a moment — he hasn't gotten a Christmas tree for the past few years of living alone, but the employees usually stick a small one in the shop for a hint of holiday spirit. 

"Yeah, we always got them growing up. My mom had a thing about 'em, always said they were better than fake ones."

She hums as they pass the display, Harry gently dragging her along down the block — his apartment is so close he can taste the warmth. They've only been properly dating for a few months now, so he's still learning about her communication tells and body language, and it's only then that he realizes that's her way of saying, I never had one before.

"Did your parents put up a Christmas tree?" he asks. He knows it's a sore subject, that she's still very much in the process of healing from years of trauma, but she tends to be comfortable with questions that aren't directly related to them. Things like, what was your favorite Halloween costume growing up? and what did you want to be when you were little?

"They did, but it was always one of those fake white ones." Y/N replies with a wrinkled nose. Finally, they're approaching the front of Harry's building, his keys already in his hand and prepared to unlock the front door. They make quick work of shimmying into the lobby, immediately breathing out mutual sighs of relief from the instant temperature increase.

"Those barely count as Christmas trees," Harry murmurs, pressing the elevator button. She nods, agreeing and following him inside. She buries her mitten-clad hands into the pockets of her jacket as she watches him press the floor 4 button. "Maybe you and Luce can get a real one?"

"She's Jewish. I think I'd feel bad about putting a tree up." 

Harry nods his head, unsurprised by his girl's ever-polite nature in never wanting to make anyone else uncomfortable. Realistically, her roommate probably wouldn't care if she wanted to get a real Christmas tree, especially knowing her history with her parents. 

The conversation ceases as he unlocks the door to his apartment. As soon as they step inside, they perform the routine they've been following for the past few weeks — shedding of jackets, scarves, and gloves, toeing off shoes in the entryway, and Y/N shuffling in the direction of Harry's bedroom to change into comfortable clothes while he proposes dinner options. 

She's currently changing into her favorite pair of his sweatpants and an equally worn and cozy sweatshirt (Harry specifically did laundry the night before, knowing she'd want them) as he calls out takeout suggestions. 

"Italian?"

"Mm, Lucy and I made pizza last night, so pass!"

"Sushi?"

"Last time you didn't like it, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry mumbles, mainly to himself, "Chinese, then? I'm in the mood for something noodle-y."

"Chinese is good," Y/N says as she walks out to meet him in the living room. He grins when he sees her, the image of her in his clothes never quite getting old. Even though it's something he witnesses multiple times a week, he can never help his length from thickening up in his briefs. "Can you get me the veggie lo mein? And maybe we can split some dumplings if you want?"

"'course, dovie."

He unlocks his phone and pulls up the food ordering app while Y/N occupies herself with cozying up on the couch, bundling underneath the fuzzy pink throw blanket. She watches him as he looks down at the screen in his hand, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in focus. He looks so cute, Y/N thinks — sometimes it's silly to her that someone like him could like her, but he never makes her doubt his adoration. 

"Alright, all ordered," Harry announces with a smile. He leans over the couch to press a kiss to her hair. "I'm gonna go change, you wanna pick something to watch?"

She hums noncommittally, her eyes fluttering to his as she looks up to see him standing over her. She reaches out to clasp a hand around his wrist — for what, they're both unsure of in the moment, and it seems like she's just as surprised as he is. He quirks a brow in silent questioning and her lips part, the pink tip of her tongue running over the ridges of her two front teeth. 

"About the tree," she forces out, a look of distress so severe you'd think she was asking to marry him. "Did you... like it?"

"...did I like the tree?"

"Yeah," she nods, shifting onto her knees so she can lean her chest against the back of the couch and face him. "The tree your mom would get. Did you like it?"

"Sure. It was nice," Harry replies with a shrug. He reaches out to thumb over her plushy bottom lip, giving it a small squeeze. "What are you getting at, dove?"

Harry tries to practice this with her frequently. He's learned that she tends to be afraid of asking for what she wants, even if it's something small like stopping at the grocery store on their walk home. He knows it's from years of trauma from her parents, but he also knows that she's beyond capable of voicing her wants and needs. He's not sure if she's aware that he does this with her — some days are better than others and he always promises himself to take it easy with her. 

"I was just wondering if maybe we could go see them. The trees."

He smiles gently. "Yeah, we could do that. Do you just wanna look at them?"

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, a bashful blush blooming over her skin. 

"We could get one if you want," he murmurs as he ducks down to catch her eyes. "We could put it up here."

"Really?"

His heart squeezes at the instant twinkle in her eyes, a hopeful expression painted over her features. He grins and nods. 

"Of course. We can go tomorrow."

"Okay," she agrees with a smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. He gasps in fake shock and she giggles. 

"Careful dovie, I might just think you like me."

. . .

December 14, 2023

Y/N hates the cold. 

Today, it's bitterly cold, the tips of her ears red from the harsh winter wind nipping at them all afternoon. Her hands are stuffed in mittens, she's wearing multiple thermal layers beneath her North Face puffer jacket (an early Christmas gift from Harry, who claimed her current coat wasn't cutting it), and her toes have officially surpassed an acrid sting and live in the completely and utterly numb category. 

But she supposes it's worth it all to walk arm-in-arm with Harry as they explore his favorite holiday market.

He's been blabbing her ear off about it since it started in the last week of November, explaining that he discovered it his first year living in the city, just a few months after opening the shop. He said that business was slow and he couldn't afford to visit his family in London for the holidays, so he was feeling particularly down, but this market actually awoke a bit of festive spirit in him. Ever since then, he comes back every year, gets a hot chocolate, and walks through the rows of vendors, even if he doesn't buy anything — and he was beyond excited to experience it with Y/N this year.

It just so happened that they hadn't taken the weather into account. Harry asked Y/N about a million separate times, making sure she was still okay with going (and while she much would have rather stay home, snuggled up with her boyfriend with a Christmas movie on, she couldn't bare ruining his plans, especially given all that he did for her).

And the thing is, Harry can tell that she's borderline-miserable in the cold. But every time he asks if she wants to go home, her chapped lips form into a small smile, shaking her head, insisting that she wants to keep going.

Finally, Harry spots the hot chocolate vendor at the end of sidewalk; a much-welcomed excuse to hopefully warm his girl up. 

"This place has the best hot chocolate," he says as his pace quickens slightly. If Y/N's arm wasn't looped around his, she's sure she wouldn't be able to keep up with his long stride. 

"Oh, yummy," she mumbles, digging into her pocket to pull out her wallet, "Do y'wanna share one or each get one?"

"Put that away." he instantly replies with a scoff. In a second, he's produced his own wallet, quickly ordering one hot chocolate each.

"Harry," Y/N whines quietly, "You always pay for things, why couldn't you let me get this?"

"'cos I wanted to."

"That's what you always say!"

He chuckles as he graciously accepts the hot chocolates from the salesman, then hands one to Y/N without a second glance. She huffs to herself as she pulls her hands from her pockets to clutch the warm cup. It already smells heavenly, her eyes nearly fluttering shut from the coziness oozing from the warm steam. 

"Seriously, will you let me get us dinner or something tonight?" Y/N asks as Harry guides them towards a bench. She's not really in the mood to perch her bum on a freezing cold slab of wood, but if today's anything to go by, she'd do anything for Harry.

"No," he replies with a cheeky grin. "I like spoiling you."

"But I don't want you to spend so much—"

"It's not about the money, Y/N," he says, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. "You deserve the very best and I will give you that. Okay?"

Truthfully, she can't tell if she's more surprised or turned on by Harry's sudden harsh tone, but nonetheless, she nods her head. 

"Good. Now drink your hot chocolate, dove."

Wordlessly, she lifts the cup to her lips and takes a sip, the decedent taste instantly outweighing the slight sting of pain from the warm liquid hitting her tongue.

It's delicious, just as Harry promised. She doesn't think he could ever steer her wrong, even in the context of something small like a beverage. It's something she learned quickly into meeting him — even when they were just friends, she trusted him implicitly. Perhaps it had been naive on her part, but in all honesty, she wouldn't change it for the world. She feels so lucky to have someone who cherishes her as much as he does, even knowing all the nitty gritty details of her life.

Despite the comfortable lull in conversation, they shuffle closer until their puffer-covered arms are flush against one another. His glove-clad hand reaches out to give her thigh a small squeeze as she people watches and takes in the wintery scenery around them. 

"Thank you for bringing me today," she says through cold swollen lips, "I really like it here."

He smiles. "Thank you for coming. Know you're freezing."

She giggles and takes another sip of her hot chocolate. He's just about to ask her if she's ready to head back to his place when a smattering of applause distracts them both. They turn around to see a man on one knee with an engagement ring in his hand and his girlfriend — or fiancee now — nodding her head enthusiastically. It's a picture perfect moment in front of the large decorated Christmas tree with onlookers cheering them on and taking pictures.

"'s sweet." Y/N murmurs, shifting her posture to turn back around. Harry swallows before humming quietly in agreement. He stands from his spot on the bench and holds his hand out to take her empty cup, tossing them both in the garbage can before nodding his head in the direction of the exit. 

"Would you ever want something like that?" he blurts out before he can force himself to swallow the words down. She glances up at him as she loops her arm through his, burying her hand back into the warmth of his pocket. 

"Like what?"

Harry shrugs. "Like... a big proposal."

"Oh," she wrinkles her nose. "I've never really thought about it, to be honest."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah. I always assumed my parents would just marry me off to someone they approved of."

"I'm sorry," he mutters with a shake of his head. "That was a stupid question."

"It's alright. I guess I can think about it now."

He smiles as they stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn. 

"Why're you asking?"

Harry clears his throat before shrugging his shoulders again. With a small smile, she bumps her arm against his, a silent and sweet encouragement to voice his thoughts.

"I think about a future for us, is all."

"You do?"

He returns her smile as they walk across the street, nodding his head. "Of course I do."

"What do you think about?"

"Well, I think about us maybe moving a little further out of the city, but not too far so I can't get to the shop every day. Maybe a dog or a cat... you're working in publishing or editing or doing whatever you want. And we're just... we're happy."

A grin flowers over Y/N's face. She wriggles her hand out of her pocket to grab Harry's, doing her best to give it a squeeze through the layers of their thick gloves. 

"That sounds nice," she replies softly as they pass by the familiar shops on the way to Harry's apartment, "Do we get ever get engaged?"

Harry glances down to look at her, a small wrinkle between his eyebrows. "Only if you want that."

She hums. "I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

She nods as they approach the front of his building. 

"Only if you let me get a real Christmas tree every year."

Harry laughs. 

"I'll get you one every day if you let me marry you."

. . .

December 23, 2023

"I have an early Christmas present for you."

Y/N peers up at her boyfriend over the frames of her blue light glasses. She's finally finished with finals but has been checking her grades religiously, waiting for them to be posted. With the time she unintentionally took off this semester, she had to work harder than ever to make sure she passed everything. 

"Are you trying to distract me from worrying about my grades?"

With a smirk, he shrugs his shoulders boyishly. "Maybe. We both know you killed it, dovie, there's no use in stressing."

She sighs lightly and closes her laptop, placing it on the coffee table. 

"Plus, you deserve a reward for doing so well," he murmurs, sitting down next to her. "Do you want your gift?"

"I feel like you're gonna give it to me regardless of what I say."

"You know me well," he says through a laugh. "Alright, close your eyes."

She does as she's told, preparing herself for something silly, like a pack of her favorite Christmas cookies or a coupon for a kiss. Instead, when Harry tells her to open them, he's holding a massive, cuddly teddy bear. 

"Oh," she smiles. "This is cute. I had one just like this at my parents' place."

"I know." 

It's only when her eyes flitter to his face and she sees his smirk that she realizes he's recounting much dirtier memories than her. Instantly, she blushes, remembering how he somehow figured out what she'd done with her stuffed animals in the time they'd spent apart. 

"Do you wanna show me how you did it?" he nearly purrs, kneeling down so he's eye level with her, "I've thought about it almost every day since you admitted to grinding your cute little pussy on your stuffed animals, thinking of me."

She nearly chokes on her spit. She doesn't think she'll ever get used to the way Harry can flip at a moment's notice, his demeanor switching from her sweet, kind boyfriend to a hot domineering version of himself that always manages to fluster her. 

The thought of doing... that in front of him is somehow humiliating, even if he's done far dirtier things to her before. Still, though, she doesn't want to disappoint him, and she can't help that the prospect of being a little embarrassed is a turn-on for her — something she only discovered because of him. 

"'kay," she breathes out with a small nod of her head. 

"'kay?" he echoes with a chuckle, "You wanna show me, pup?"

"Mhm."

He places the teddy bear on its back on the carpeted floor before turning back around and holding his hands out. He guides her down, pretending not to notice the tremble in her hands, and presses a kiss to the side of her head. Ducking down slightly, he tells her she doesn't have to do anything she's uncomfortable with. She's quick to shake her head and give his hand a squeeze, mumbling out, "I want to."

He hopes that she knows well enough to exercise her right to consent at any point — they've had just about a thousand conversations about it over the past few months, and Y/N always swears up and down that she'll tell him if she feels even the tiniest smidge of discomfort. 

She straddles the stuffed animal between her thighs like she's done it a million times before, and it makes Harry's stomach squeeze knowing that she has. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she pulls her thin sleep shorts to the side, revealing just the smallest bit of her mound to him. 

"Show me, dove," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. He places gentle hands at her hips as he slowly helps her rock forward, a breathy whimper falling from her lips almost immediately. "There you go, that's my good girl. Keep going."

She swallows harshly and repeats the same movement once more, allowing Harry's hands to fall more so in the background. He's not used to seeing his girl in control, but on the rare occasion where he does, it drives him absolutely insane. 

With his knees pressing into the fluffy carpet of his living room floor, he suppresses a groan as he watches her; his sweet, soft girl in her flower-printed shorts as she trails deft fingers up to her chest, giving her breast a squeeze. His eyes roam over her body — the dimples in her thighs that appear as she grinds her hips, the slight jiggle in her ass punctuated by quiet moans. He gives her left hip a harsher squeeze to remind her that he's there and her eyes flutter open. 

"Does it feel good?" he asks huskily. She nods quickly, though he can tell her thighs are beginning to strain. "Do you need daddy's help?"

He glances down to where her core meets the soft stuffing and smirks when he sees the matted material, a clear sign of her arousal dripping down. He sneaks a hand down below and cups her warm pussy. 

"Let daddy have a look, yeah?" he mutters, pushing her body up so he can the study the mess between her legs. "This drippy and swollen just from humping a teddy bear?"

With flushed cheeks, she nods.

"Silly girl."

He lightly pushes her back down so her pussy makes contact with the wet spot she left behind. She gasps quietly as his hands find purchase back on her hips. 

"Daddy'll help this desperate pussy cum, alright?" 

In a moment, he's guiding her hips up and over the teddy bear, making it so she's doing minimal work. Her eyes fall closed again as her moans get louder and breathier, a telltale sign Harry's learned to look for and adore. 

"Atta girl," he mutters lowly, "Let daddy do all the work. Can't believe how cock dumb you get from this— 's kinda pathetic, really."

"'s n-not," she utters through a whimper.

"No? 's not? Then how come you're about to cum from it?"

She wants to fight him on it, even if she normally never would. She's typically quite submissive and it's a dynamic they naturally fell into; one that they're both comfortable with. But with the growing stressors of school constantly thrumming through her brain and Harry's active attempts to teach her to better stand up for herself... well, he's the only person to blame for this sudden change in attitude, after all. 

"'m not," she replies with a clenched jaw, holding in the moan threatening to spill from her spit swollen lips. He laughs humorlessly, quirking an eyebrow at her sudden boldness. 

"You're not?" he asks, steadying his hands and stopping the rapid gyration of her hips. She puffs out a frustrated breath when he prevents her from moving, suddenly aware of how quickly her heart is beating. "I'd watch your mouth if I were you. I'll make sure you don't cum for days if you wanna act like a brat."

"I'm not being a brat."

Harry snorts and reaches for her hair, twisting his fist in it and pulling. She gasps. 

"Say that again." 

It's a threat and they both know it. He's curious to see where this goes — if she's really that set on this back-and-forth or if she's ready to be his good girl again. 

With her head ducked back in his grasp, her throat bobbing with nerves, he's shocked by her response: "I'm not being a brat."

"Bullshit," he spits. In a second, the tight grip he has on her hair is released, but he's pushing her down, a hand between her shoulder blades so her core and chest are completely flush with the fluffy material. She sounds out a quick oh!, shivering slightly from the rough maneuver. "I'm done helping you. Get yourself off on your own, brat."

She feels like it's a test, but she's leaking now, humiliatingly so, so she issues a tentative roll of her hips, half-expecting some sort of teasing insult from him. He doesn't say a word but he's also removed his hands from her completely now. She feels empty without his touch, though the all-encompassing need to finish is expanding through her body, completely distracting her from any sort of normal response. 

"Tell me when you're gonna cum." he says lowly. She nods, feeling his presence from behind her, almost emitting a taunting, looming air. It's only when she hears the familiar slick passes that she realizes he's not as unaffected as she assumed he was. It delivers an ego boost to her, swelling up in her chest as she moves her hips, grinding down against the fabric wet with her juices, knowing that her mean, grumpy boyfriend is watching and getting off to her.

The steady stimulation against her clit is so delicious that she's quick to get to the edge, clawing her fingernails into the carpet. Her jaw drops as she feels her muscles contracting, her eyes rolling back.

"Cum," she pants out in a whimpered tone, "G-gonna cum."

"Good girl."

She gasps from the full-body pleasure, her form shaking as she clutches to the floor for stability. Her orgasm is strong and occurs perfectly in tandem with Harry's, who she realizes is finishing just as she reaches the end of hers. She hears him groaning and it makes her clit buzz, and then feels streaks of hot cum painting her ass. She gasps out in surprise, her lower half still twitching from the intensity. 

"Fuck, you're so fucking hot," Harry grunts through clenched teeth, "Fuck."

She continues laying there obediently, waiting for him to finish. She thinks she could fall asleep right here if she wanted to, but Harry is quick to maneuver his position so he's back on his knees in front of her.

"You okay, dove?" he asks gently, smoothing her hair. "Know that was a little rougher than normal. Was it okay?"

With a hazy smile, she nods. "Mhm."

"Alright," he chuckles. "I'm gonna go grab something to clean you up with. Stay here."

She listens to the sounds of him traipsing through his apartment, returning a few moments later with a damp washcloth. He cleans the mess between her thighs followed by the one he painted on her ass, then wraps an arm around her waist to guide her to his bedroom. 

"Wait— I don't wanna go to sleep yet," she says with slightly rounded eyes. "It's almost Christmas and— well, we haven't, like, sat by the tree yet."

Harry raises his eyebrows, "Sat by the... tree?" he turns around, glancing at the Christmas tree they purchased a few weeks back, when Y/N originally asked if they could get a real one. If he's being honest, it was overpriced and they haven't been taking the best care of it, so he assumes it'll be dead shortly after Christmas. (He's kind of dreading having to take it out because he's nervous she'll get sad.)

"Yeah... when I was a kid, I always wanted to sit by a real Christmas tree and drink hot chocolate and watch a movie." she explains with a small shrug, "We don't have to do that though, I know you're probably tired from work—"

"I'd love to," Harry's quick to cut her off with a shake of his head. "Why don't you go and put some sweats on and I'll make our hot chocolates, okay?"

"Really?"

He chuckles softly. "Dovie, I'm not sure how you haven't realized this yet, but I would do anything for you."

Her grin is so wide that Harry hopes it never leaves her face.

#writing #tattoo artist h #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #one direction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles one direction #fine line #harry's house #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fic recs #harry styles rec

[drewharrisonwriter]

Donor

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairings: Bestie Henry Cavill x OFC A/N, Warnings: 18+, Talk of artificial insemination, peeing in a cup, sperm, and more. LOL I wrote this in an hour, IDK where I pulled this from. Not beta-ed. Also, I'm pretty sure this doesn't make so much sense in terms of plot, and being realistic. But come on, let this delulu queen live her life. You're welcome to join. Summary: You ask (beg) your best friend, Henry to donate--sperm.

I’m AO3, too as MoonDjarin ^_^

“Hank, pleaaaase…” You pleaded, dragging the last word. Henry laughed at your frustration but still could not wrap his head around what you’re asking of him.

“You’re going insane.” He jokes, causing you to drop your back on the carpet with a soft thud, covering your face with your palms as you landed.

“It’s just like peeing in a cup.” Your reply came out muffled. Henry just snorted and tried his best to stifle a laugh.

Nearly 18 years of friendship and here you are, seemingly at the end of your rope, asking your best friend to father the child you so ache for and he laughs at your ridiculous solution, telling you he’s not going to be responsible for a “turkey baster baby”.

“I don’t like peeing in a cup. Besides, why go the turkey baster way when you can go… au naturelle?”

“You know exactly why…” You said, sitting up, and gathering the profiles of sperm donors from the (sperm) bank. You and Henry had been going through each profile over the past few hours, laughing and making faces at the notes.

“And I thought Tinder was bad.” He commented earlier.

Henry got up and took the bottles of beer on the coffee table and walked back to the kitchen to open new ones.

“Tell me why won’t you do it?” You asked him, eyes round and glazed with tears that are threatening to fall any second.

He hates seeing you like this.

He sighed and admitted, “If I were to have any children of my own, I’d rather have them borne out of love and not out of… desperation after a really bad break up.”

“But I’m not asking you to be… a father. Just a donor.” You countered.

"Darling, please. Reaaally think about what you're asking of me."

"I have! I wouldn't be asking you if I haven't. Come on, Hank..."

"Right, not more than an hour after dropping sperm bank Tinder and you've thought this through." He said sarcastically and you pouted.

"Well, think about it, too!" You asked of him. "It's the ideal situation."

"How? Tell me exactly why it's so ideal." He said, running a hand through his face and resting his chin on his palm as he waited for your brilliant idea.

"Well, first of all, we love each other. So the child won't be borne not out of love." You began, mocking his accent and his statement from earlier. He snickered and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Jesus," He muttered.

"Plus, I won't ask you for anything, Hank. No child support, no emotional support. You don't have to see them. You're not even going to be on the birth certificate."

Henry winced at each of your points. "Darling, you know so well that I'm always your emotional support. And d'you really think I can go around just being Uncle Hank?” He replied with an eye roll as he took a sip of his beer.

"Yeah, how hard could that be?" You exclaimed.

"Very." He said sternly, looking you straight in the eye.

"Y/N." He began. "You know so well I won't be able to sit here with you holding a child knowing it's mine and not be involved in all ways."

“God, you’re too emotional.” You rolled your eyes at his response as you drank from your beer bottle.

“I am! And I’m sorry, darling. I can’t just give away my children. They’re not the meals you make for me every week.”

You laughed at that. "So you admit it, you don't like the meals I prep for you?"

"That's beside the point."

You'll get back to that later. You sighed out loud as you both drank.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you desperately want this?”

That ought to get you thinking hard.

You sighed and asked yourself the same thing, reflecting on what started this vision of yourself with a child, and what turned it to longing and aching, then desperation.

Growing up without present parents, you basically become an extended Cavill sibling. The sister they never had, or as the youngest Cavill, Charlie, would like to joke, the no-choice sister. That family took you in like their own kin, having you over for dinner almost every evening, and spending weekends and vacations with them.

It's not that you're not well off, financially. Your parents were just really successful actors who don't pay you much any attention but showers you with plenty of lavish gifts and an American Express Black card. Which, Henry's mother found really heartbreaking and his father pitied you on.

You were 15 when you met Henry. He was already a budding actor with a couple of productions and a movie or two in his portfolio. You were a bright and young singer-songwriter from Italy, about to break it into the English-language audience with a catchy single that Henry happened to star in the music video of.

It was easy falling into a friendship with Henry. He was kind, funny, a little nerdy, but he's also such a gentleman, and treats you and talks to you like an equal despite the five-year age gap.

It didn't take long before you met his family when he invited to his birthday party. You didn't know exactly how the events played out that day, but somehow, at the end of it all, you walked out of their home being a part of it.

You got along so well with his brothers, you and his mother already sharing secrets. You figured she was excited to have a girl in the house as none of her children would bring their girlfriends for them to meet. His father was so easy to please, a couple of jokes here and a few football arguments there, and you won his heart. Not like you were even trying, but you were glad that you got along with all of them.

Henry drove you home that night and when he parked in your empty driveway, he jumped out to open the door for you. You cried in the passenger seat with the door open and he stood there, leaning on the doorframe as you confessed to him your jealousy and longing for that kind of family.

He pulled you in and wrapped you in a tight hug beneath the street lamp.

"Hank, you know so well there is nothing I want more in life at this moment than to have a family."

"I don't get it, Y/N." He said quietly, "You're definitely the smartest person I know. You're a literal genius..." He thought of your first few conversations on the set of your first English-language music video, and learning that not only you spoke several languages fluently, but you are also about to start university at such an early age. It impressed him so much.

"You've accomplished so much in your career, you're still young, there are so many things you can do with your life, why do you go back to this?" He asked and you just shrugged.

"I feel incomplete. What can I say? A dream is a dream."

"Gerry was a dream, too." He said and you looked at him surprised at bringing up your ex fiancé.

He was indeed a dream. You met Gerry at an evening talk show as a fellow guest. He didn't hide the fact that he was so enamored by you and that he's such a big fan of your music. You, being a fan of him, too, was just so happy to hear him say all that in person.

It was an instant connection, and it didn't take long for you and Gerry to start a long, and at the time, seemingly, lasting and perfect relationship.

"Sorry." He muttered. "But it makes me wonder, you never talked about it, just casually said that things didn't work out. Knowing you, things don't just not work out like that."

And he's right, you know he's right.

Gerry loves you a lot. You love him, too. But for all the years you've been together with the high-profile action star, the talk of kids almost never came up, at least the serious talk about kids. Until you brought it up soon after he proposed, and he confessed that he had a vasectomy shortly before you met.

You were not mad. You understood, vasectomies are reversible. But Gerry didn't want to have it reversed, ever. He admitted that the reason he got it in the first place was to not accidentally have kids as he fully intended to be childless.

You understood that, too. But it broke your heart.

Regardless, you had a clean break up, but never felt the need to tell people, even your friends or family as to why. Just that things didn't work out.

"Gerry didn't want to start a family." You told Henry.

"What?" He asked, surprised. His brows furrowed and his mouth hung slightly open at your revelation. You just nodded.

"I don't understand, you were to be married." You just nodded again, and took a sip of your beer. You told him the truth about Gerry, and Henry felt his heart breaking for you.

Henry reached for your hand from across the coffee table, enveloping your tiny hands in his big ones.

"And that's a deal breaker for you." He said softly, coming to the realization.

"Yeah." You replied. "So... there you go."

"But you know what comes after the last one, right?"

"What?"

"The next one." He joked, trying to make the air in the room lighter. He smiled at his success when you snickered.

"I'm tired, Hank. Tired of getting to know new people. I've been with Gerry for four years, and before that... well you know." It was Henry's turn to snicker.

He knows so well. All the heartbreaks, disappointments, even the rebounds, met most of them. He was always there at your highest of highs, and always down with you when things didn't work out.

"I get that." He finally answered, thinking about his own strings of ex girlfriends, and an ex-fiancé. At one point, you both feel very proud of the situation you found yourselves in, both engaged to beautiful people at the same time.

You even toasted to it last New Year's eve, not knowing that both promises of a lifetime of love would fall apart in a matter of months. He, too, wanted what you wanted. A family of his own, being the only one amongst his brothers to be single and childless.

He thought he might have had that with his ex fiance. Telling him she was pregnant when she caught a whiff of him about to break things off. He was caught off guard when she told him and he didn't even waste a moment to put a ring on her finger, falling for her lies.

Maybe it was not so bad, making your dream come true. You can always discuss co-parenting, he thought and he's sure you'd allow it.

He pondered on it some more.

Henry rested his head on the cool glass top of the coffee table, his hand never left yours. He let out a breath, fogging the glass beneath him as he gently squeezed your hand.

He shut his eyes tight, and muttered to himself, "Please don't make me regret this."

"What?" You asked, not quite hearing what he said.

"Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll do it. I'll--be your turkey baster baby's donor."

With that you burst out crying and he stood up, took your hand and guided you to his arms. He wrapped you up in that big, warm hug, that you always find comfort in.

"Set an appointment in the morning, darling." He whispered and you cried some more and muttered a yes, thank you.

18 years of friendship with Henry Cavill, and this is where you find yourself: at a crossroads that neither of you could have predicted.

The weight of his decision settled between you like a tangible presence, and as you hugged each other tightly, you knew that this was a turning point in your relationship, an uncharted territory.

Read next part: Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

#henry cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x little!reader #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you

[bebebelll]

does anyone know her dad? daniel ricciardo smau (part 1)

pairing: daniel ricciardo x toto's secret child!reader / daniel ricciardo x schumacher and wolff!reader warnings: cursing and some general fandom hate wags get note: first time doing this i dont know if this right but lets go! part 2, part 3 and part 4

mickschumacher happy birthday to @ynquads !! sorry for crashing into the cake! mama said she'll make you another

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 122 498 others

gina_schumacher thanks for almost cropping me out of the picture

mickschumacher it's about yn!! ynquads i though i was you favourite cousin gigi :( why u being so mean to me :( i'll go tell my parents micschumacher ill tell mama you're being mean to yn username123 always love seeing mick and yn be annoying little siblings

maxverstappen1 congrats! is it enough to say it here or do i have to make my own post? ive given you a present

ynquads bring me cowboy boots from austin and you dont have to

username cute cute cute cute cute cute

username honestly schumacher genes dont even feel real anymore

username right!?!?! i want yn to win the figure skating grand prix but then i remember that video where she went karting with max username like a billion drivers and a skater and the good looks in ONE family? god really does have favourites

lewishamilton happy birthday! it's been great seeing you grow up

username excuse me sir? what do you mean grow up?

ynquads visited japan for a wedding and now i'm all ready for skate america!! let's gooo cricket club!!

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, susie_wolff and 112 666 others

username YOU GOT INVITED TO YUZURU'S WEDDING

ynquads i even got to bring daniel🤭

danielricciardo it was a lovely wedding❤️❤️(ours is gonna be better)

username excuse what the fuck lewishamilton actually you're not allowed to marry her without our permission danielricciardo whose permission would i even ask? lewishamilton every german speaking driver and like three team bosses good luck

username ARIANA (our queen & god susie wolff) WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

maxverstappen1 daniel's being gross make him stop

danielricciardo am not! ynquads lmao throw bread at him danielricciardo all the love ive given you and this is how you repay me? ynquads ooh i'll repay you 😏 maxverstappen1 dont be weird under my comment

username oh she has time to fly to japan but not go to a single race ever

username babes danny has not been in the since zandvoort. theres been no race to go see him username they've been together for like three years and she's only been to less than ten races username like seriously cant she ever be supportive username you people do realize she's an athlete too?

ynquads we got silver!!!💪🥈🥈🥈congrats to kaori sakamoto 🥇 and isabeau levito🥉 (also thanks uncle lewis for dinner)

tagged: lewishamilton

liked by maxverstappen1 and 237 274 others

nicorosberg he gave you alcohol?

ynquads i have never actually drank alcohol at all in my entire life (also dad was there i was not even allowed to get food that had rum in the sauce) maxverstappen1 oh yeah we did not at all just get drunk ynquads shut up before nico goes to talk to my DAD

username are we all just gonna ignore that she calls lewis "uncle" like seriously how disrespectful is that

username calm the fuck down she calls him and all the older grid (especially sebastian) uncle so it is not new

danielricciardo why you holding your head like that? is it heavy from all the pretty? i can hold it for you

nicorosberg this is who you choose @ynquads danielricciardo why are you bullying me too??? ynquads hes funny onkel nico (uncle) username how is nico rosberg here dragging danny ric? you dont even follow him?

username EVERYBODY CALM DOWN THIS IS NOT A DRILL WE HAVE A CHANCE TO HAVE YN WIN THIS YEAR'S GRAND PRIX PLEASE BE ON EVERY PODIUM

susie_wolff congrats honey! we're really proud!

username i still think it's so damn weird she just hangs out with the older grid. how does she even know then to go on dinners

username okay but when the hell did this even happen? i follow yn and she trains in toronto and during summer is in germany or england. she doesnt attend the races? how the fuck is she and DANIEL RICCIARDO together babes

username i bet my life that max introduced them i can feel it in my bones that he planned this username "oh sorry i won by 30 secs and you have a shitbox to drive, wanna meet my friend she's great gf material? you have no chance without help" ynquads i mean.... username OH MY GOD

username she's such a shit girlfriend honestly. she dates daniel for publicity and then drags lewis down too

username what the fuck are you smoking??

username how the FUCK did daniel ricciardo bag the talented pretty QUAD QUEEN MISS YN SCHUMACHER!!! thats my wife actually! what about our kids and three lambs??

f1wagsupdates paparazzi has released a video of mercedes team boss toto wolff exiting a restaurant and driving off with a young woman. even though she tried to cover herself, the woman was quicky identified as yn schumacher. she is a figure skater and 20+ years younger. in an interview from home yn can be seen walking around the wolff kitchen in little clothing. is this the ending to toto's perfect looking marriage with fellow motorsport boss susie wolff?

liked by 10 385

username if i dont read it, it doesnt exist. no one's cheating ever

username toto and susie's kid is like 5 how could he throw that away??

username its always the goddamn family men fucking over their wives and kids

username this is such bullshit. toto and susie have been together since like 2011 this is so horrible

username little clothing? she's wearing like pajamas

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo insta au #formula 1 social media au #daniel ricciardo #toto wolff

[mrsharrington83]

Code Blue

Summary; The aftermath leaves Y/N second guessing everything in her life. Losing friends and witnessing her boyfriend of two years getting closer to his ex is enough to push her over the edge. Will they be able to pull themselves out of this hole that’s darker than the Upside Down itself? (For the sake of this fic, what happened at the end of the last episode of season 4 hasn’t yet happened)

Warnings; usual Stranger Things, things. Swearing, blood, injury, alcohol consumption, mentions of death and suicidal thoughts. If any of this is triggering, please don’t read.

A/N; I haven’t written anything in so long! It’s a long fic! 6.5K words, my longest on here yet. I apologise if this is bad, I’ve just been in a writing mood so thought I’d let out a lot of angst and fluff (we love it) I am a British writer (England) so sorry if things don’t make sense to you! Thank you for stopping by, hopefully my writing streak stays strong. Requests are always open. Love to all xoxo

The aftermath of the supposed earthquake had everyone second guessing. Some people left, other people were packing to leave. Having known what really went down, you sat in silence staring into your vanity mirror as everyone else you knew went to help the community at Hawkins High.

You just couldn’t stomach it. Cuts and grazes over your skin, tiredness evident in your eyes, your hair still clumped with dirt from the Upside Down, dried blood. You hadn’t even showered yet. You didn’t know how to process anything that had happened over the past 72 hours. You were accustomed to this kind of thing having it been a big part of your life for the past few years, the most recent battle however, took the biscuit.

Small Polaroid pictures littered around the back wall of your desk. Smiles, memories, better times. Max and Dustin when she stole his cap. They were in mid laugh so it was blurred a bit, but a happy memory that was stuck in time. That same Max was now in hospital, fractured bones, blind, unresponsive. Not laughing and joking with her friends, not happy, not anything. Doctors didn’t know if she’d ever wake. She was such a selfless soul, way beyond her years, but still so young. Too young. You all were.

Pictures of the group, you and your boyfriend Steve. A picture of you and Eddie during a D&D game. His hair all over the place, tongue sticking out, you laughing, Dustin in the background pulling a stupid face.

Memories.

Eddie.

Your best friend.

Gone.

Just like that.

He didn’t run this time, and fuck. You really wished he did.

The tick of your small clock dragged you away from the pictures, the light ticking mocking you, “shut up! Shut the fuck up!” you screamed from deep in your lungs, a howl so painful from your chest, putting what was left of your strength and upset from the past few weeks into knocking the blasted thing to the floor, hearing the glass and mechanics hit the floor in one swoop. It was a gift from Eddie one Christmas as you were pretty much always late. Bittersweet.

Guilt built in your stomach as you stood up fast, pushing your stool back with your legs, failing to the floor, cupping the bits of broken glass as sobs wracked your body, not realising your hands were clenched around the shards, the all too familiar claret running through the lines in your palm and down your fingers, dripping into a pool on the wooden flooring of the bedroom.

Your breathing hitched as you remembered Eddie die in your arms, the way blood trickled from his mouth. The look of pure terror on his face. He knew he was dying, but he kept it together till the very end for the sake of you and Dustin. His best friends, the people that were there for him no matter what everyone else was saying. You didn’t want to believe it. Dustin’s screams and sobs as the light left his eyes. You saw them gloss over. The way you both shook him, screamed into his ear, telling him not to leave you both behind. Your hands covered in blood. His blood.

Dropping the bits of glass on the floor, you pushed your feet and newly cut hands against the floor, the small slitters of glass that were still on your palm slicing deeper into your flesh until your back met the wall, your hands and body shaking, the tightness in your chest getting worse and you struggled to fill your lungs with air. You felt like you were about to pass out.

The past 72 hours had been, by far, the worst time of your life. You’d witnessed what you thought was your boyfriend of two years get closer to his ex, eyes can be deceiving, but there was something in his own eyes that glimmered whenever he spoke to Nancy, deep down you always wondered what Steve saw in you. Maybe you were just a knock off version of Nancy. Someone to keep him grounded in all of this. A warm body to forget all the wrongdoing in the world. Someone he knew cared about him. Perhaps more than he cared for you. You didn’t know that of course, it was just what your mind was telling you.

Your best friend had died for a town that hated him, Max, the girl who had adopted you as a cooler older sister after Billie died was lying in a hospital bed with the looming same fate, Vecna was still out there somewhere and you were sure there was even more danger on the horizon.

Even after everything that happened, your mum hadn’t bothered coming home. She was always away with her new man for weeks on end. She had called up one night before the phone lines cut out to make sure the house was still standing after witnessing the news, but other than that all you got was, ‘with everything that’s happened in Hawkins, I’m going to stay with carl for another few weeks, maybe more. Be careful out there.’”

You’d never felt more alone. You didn’t blame your friends or Steve. They wanted to help out, of course they did. You did too, but you were in no way the right frame of mind to be seeing people crying for their loved ones, talking to people that had lost others whilst you were reeling from losing your own.

You pulled yourself off the floor with great difficulty. It felt like you had a ton of bricks weighed down on you. Metaphorically speaking, you did. Though it wasn’t bricks, it was the weight of hurt and anger, of death piling up one by one. “Get yourself together Y/N. get your fucking self together.” Rummaging through your dresser, careful not to get blood on everything, you pulled out some comfortable lounge clothes that were bigger in size, purposely avoiding one of Steve’s t-shirts as you dragged yourself to the bathroom.

Putting down the toilet seat, you placed your clothes and rinsed your hands under the cold tap. Water on open cuts made you wince, but at least you felt something other than emotional pain. Watching your fresh blood mix with water and into the sink like a mini whirlpool was almost mesmerising. Picking out the last few shards of glass making the water redder with each bit. You were lucky water was still running. There were some parts of Hawkins that had no water.

Turning the dial on the shower you undressed. Peeling your clothes from your skin. Clothes you wouldn’t bother to wash. They would go straight in the bin. You had enough awful reminders on that night, you didn’t need more. Stepping into the shower, careful not to slip, you submerged yourself in warm, running water and closed your eyes, feeling old blood, mud and debris leave your tired body.

Steve had come home early, with both of your parents almost always being away you basically lived with each other. When your mum was away, he’d stay with you and if his parents were away, you’d stay with him. He had his own keys to your place, and you had your own to his.

Steve kicked his shoes off in the hallway, tiredness in his bones. The house was silent apart from the sound of water from the shower, you were at least out of bed. When Steve left this morning you were curled up in a ball with covers over your head, blocking out the world. He leant down and burrowed his head in your blankets kissing the top of your head, saying how much he loved you and that he’d be back as soon as he’d helped out in Hawkins High, with a running car it was easier for him to pick up robin and bundle Dustin, Will and Mike in the back of along with all the supplies, it was a squeeze, but not a long drive and with everything that had happened, the kids didn’t mind being on top of each other, breathing, alive. In truth, Steve didn’t want to get out of bed either. His temples ached, his bones felt heavy and the wounds he had were still throbbing, not letting him forget about the events.

He sighed and flopped onto the sofa, leaning his head back hoping to get the knots out of the muscles in his neck, tension. He didn’t want to disturb you in the shower, even though all he wanted to do was bury his face in your hair, your skin, breathe in the only place he felt safe, the only thing that made sense to him. Seeing everyone at Hawkins High, the missing persons post filled with faces he knew, faces he didn’t, the heartbreak of all of Hawkins. All he wanted was you, but instead he just sat there.

You pressed your head against the cool tiles in the bathroom as you turned off the shower, the familiar car engine shutting off in the drive, you knew Steve was back, yet you didn’t think you could see him face to face yet. You breathed out heavily and stepped out of the shower pulling a towel from the back of the door, wrapping it around yourself and another for your hair. Red staining the white cotton as you’d opened old wounds as well as your still bleeding palms that stung. You bent down to get the first aid kit from under the sink as you got to work on your wounds. You at least looked cleaner, your split lip and eyebrow not looking as bad now you’d washed, half of these injuries you didn’t even know when you’d got them, from fighting demobats to being thrown across the floor by Eddie when you tried to help, bruises from being pulled away from your friend as his lifeless body lay motionless, wounds from yourself from hitting the wall in desperation. You looked how you felt. Completely broken. You wrapped bandages around your hands and left it at that. Drying off and throwing oversized clothes on, you reached for the door handle, your hand visibly shaking.

Going back into your room you sighed at the mess. Somewhat thankful that Steve had stayed downstairs. Glass and blood everywhere. You grabbed a dustpan and a brush from a small closet next to the bathroom as well as the small towel you used for your hair, sweeping up the small shards of glass and discarding them in a small bin next to your bed. Wiping the claret up with the small towel and putting that in the bin too. You sat on the end of your bed once again staring at the pictures behind your vanity desk.

“Y/N?” Steve called up the stairs noting that the shower had been turned off for a while, worry lacing his voice. You could hear it.

“Yeah, I’m coming down.” You stood up and dragged yourself to the top of the landing. You could just throw yourself down the stairs and hope for the best. Hope you’d have an ounce of peace from your racing mind, but you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t bring yourself to take yourself over that edge, to make the people that cared about you lose another. You’d all lost too much. Begrudgingly you walked down the stairs, the illuminating light from the sun almost blinding you, you’d been living in darkness for the past few days, being in the Upside Down and then closing all the curtains upstairs as soon as you’d got back home. You’d almost forgotten how bright daylight could be.

Steve was waiting in the kitchen for you, his eyes visibly glowing when you walked into the room, as though you lit up the small space when you stepped in. A smile tugged on your lips that suddenly dropped when you remembered he was looking at Nancy exactly the same not too long ago. The same nagging thoughts you had earlier pulling you back. Knock off version of Nancy. Now that Johnathan was back, of course he came running back to you. Steve looked down to your hands and frowned, he didn’t remember you hurting your hands so much they needed bandaging,

“Sweetheart? What happened?” Steve was by your side in an instant his hands gently over yours as he inspects the bandages,

“I dropped some glass, not a big deal. Just got a little cut up in the process of cleaning it up.” You lied through your teeth, you couldn’t be bothered to talk about Eddie again and how you’d broken the last gift he would ever give to you out of anger. Steve continued to look at your hands, careful not to disturb the bandages around them,

“Do you want me to have a look? I can bandage these a bit better for you, make sure there’s no glass and...” you cut him off with a, ‘I’m fine.’ And pulled your hands away from his warmth, Steve looked a little deflated, but understood. All of you had patched each other up countless times that it was almost routine now, you’d learnt how to stitch wounds, what ointments and antiseptics to use, you basically had a mini pharmacy under your sink for things that people would never believe.

“Honestly, I’m fine Steve.” You forced a smile and went round the Kitchen Island feeling his eyes burning through you. Your house wasn’t the biggest, it was snug. The kitchen was weirdly one of the bigger rooms and probably the nicest, it was one of the only rooms your mum put any effort into before she started gallivanting around the globe. It was bright with several flowers littering the windowsills, yellow lace curtains to match some of the décor. How the flowers hadn’t died yet, you didn’t know. You never watered them.

You and the rest of the group had spent ample time in this kitchen cooking cookies and brownies for movie night, Max and Lucas always managing to burn popcorn, Steve rushing to open windows and flail a tea towel at the fire alarm to stop it beeping whilst Robin was toppling over laughing at Dustin with brownie mix all over his mouth, You’d also spent ample time in here with the older lot of the group, your mum had quite the alcohol stash. Probably enough to open a bar downtown. From several different bottles of vodka, gin, whiskey to wine, beer, cider and god knows what other potent liquid that did the job, which is exactly what you were heading for now.

Steve was slumped against one of the dining chairs as he watched you move around the island, he knew exactly what cabinet you were riffling through, “Ahhh, there it is.” You picked out an unopened bottle of vodka and put it on the side as you went through a different cupboard to pick out a decent glass.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Steve sighed as he watched your every move, “I know things aren’t great at the minute, but we really need to pull together.” You opened the vodka and poured a small glass, turning around and leaning against the counter with your ankles crossed, the glass of vodka in your hand. You shrugged and took a gulp, the burning from the alcohol igniting your insides.

“Look, sweetheart, please.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, the lack of product evident, no one ever saw Steve walking around with no product in his hair, probably because without it, it was so fluffy and never sat in the right place according to him, “this isn’t the answer, that isn’t going to help. It’s not going to bring...”

“Shut up!” you screeched, smashing the glass back onto the counter, thankfully not breaking it, “you think I don’t know that, Steve? For goodness sake! How stupid do you think I am?!” Steve is taken aback, he’s over stepped a line and he knows it, “I know it’s not going to bring Eddie back it’s not going to stop what’s going on here,” you look around the room, “it’s not going to stop Max from being in hospital, it’s not going to stop those poor kids dreaming about what happened over and over again, how fucked they’re going to be in years’ time if they even make it that far, from losing countless people and battling these things over and over again, but maybe, just maybe it will stop my racing thoughts, the hurt, the anger, the resentment I have for this stupid fucking town for five goddamn minutes, okay?! everything is falling apart at the seams, we’ve all lost so much, I even thought you were getting cosy with Nancy again!” you bite your tongue getting caught up in the rift, Steve looked towards you bewildered. You turn back to the vodka bottle, filling your glass halfway, drinking it down like water and filling it up again, “I’m not asking you to understand Steve, I’m not even asking you to deal with this, you know where the fucking door is.”

Steve stood up from the table and walked over to you slowly, turning you to face him, moving the hair that had fallen so effortlessly over your features, “I love you Y/N, whatever you thought you saw between me and Nancy was not that. I’m happy for her and Johnathan, really. I’m so glad were now with the right people, the people who ground us and make this stupid crazy life worth living, you’re my muse. I would never do that to you, sweetheart. Not ever,” moving his hands over your covered arms, to your hands, holding them gently in his, “I’m not going anywhere Y/N, just please, I don’t want to lose you too. I can’t.”

You looked Steve dead in the eyes, his glassed over, tears threatening to fall. The beautiful honey eyes you’d got lost in time and time again, “Maybe you already have.” His hands let go of yours as he visibly slumped, and took a step back, you might as well have been holding a gun, a bullet to his chest with the way he was looking at you. Turning your back to him, your own tears threatening to fall, you grabbed the bottle again unscrewing the cap, pouring yourself another glass.

“What do you mean?” Steve is silent again, his presence still behind you, feelings of uncertainty heavy in the air, “Y/N, look at me please...” the defeat in his voice made you feel awful, this was your boyfriend of two years, the person that had stayed by your side that whole time, through everything. The good times and the bad, the way you both laughed, the random dates he took you on, sometimes even after work, some of which ended up being group outings as one of the kids had seen you both and then got on the walkie talkies as quickly as possible, they ended up calling that ‘code blue’ as the first time it happened Steve was in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, the movie nights, the late night talks, walks, your safety net, the countless jokes that weren’t even funny. Helping him with his hair, the days he was sick and you’d take care of him, and the days he would do exactly the same back for you. He never faltered, he was always brave, always stayed strong for you, for everyone, but here he was, seconds away from breaking down. A painful ache in his voice that cut you in half, the same ache breaking the last pieces of your heart that were still intact, you wiped your tears away with the back of your sweater, turning around to see Steve once more, pain drowning his features,

“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t do this anymore.” he sucked in a shaky breath as a sob broke from his lips. Pain. Pain that you had caused. You finished your glass of vodka, keeping your back to Steve, you couldn’t watch him break, you couldn’t see the sadness and heartache on his face. As if he hadn’t been through enough recently,

“Y/N, please,” his voice was low, strained, as though he was bleeding out on the spot behind you, “don’t do this, we can get through this, we can get through anything, please just don’t...” you turned round to Steve his eyes visibly blood shot probably from tiredness and the tears that were free flowing down his cheeks,

“I’m sorry Steve.” You walked past him, a slight sway to your walk from too much alcohol in a short space of time on an empty stomach as you tackled the stairs, all you wanted to do was sleep, before you even got half way up the stairs you heard the front door close causing you to stop on the spot, your own sobs now tearing way through your body, this pain was tearing you apart, so much loss, but you had caused this last one.

You found yourself sitting on the end of your bed looking at the pictures behind your desk once again, would you ever feel that kind of happiness again or was this the new norm? A burning hole in the middle of your chest that was once whole and pushed together in the shape of the people you loved. All of those memories seemed like a lifetime ago, how time and life could be fleeting, oh how you took it all for granted.

***

Two weeks had passed.

Two long weeks.

Probably the longest two weeks of your life.

In those two weeks you’d had almost everyone knock on your door, mainly Robin and Dustin, “Y/N, open this door right now or I promise you I’ll put a brick through your window and climb in there myself.” Dustin shouted as he looked through the small glass patterns on the front door for signs of movement, “I’m not joking Y/N.” Dustin looked around your drive and picked up half a brick, “ten seconds, Y/N!” finally he saw movement and put the brick down on the grass, you opened the door and huffed,

“Dustin, every day for two weeks, ae you not bored yet?” He pushed you aside gently and kicked his shoes off before throwing himself onto the sofa and turning on the small TV as if he lived there, “and how can I be of assistance today?” you stood in the doorway of the living room, you no longer had the bandages on your hands, the cuts on your hands were hardly visible now, your other physical injuries were also doing much better, some might not even scar, not that you cared about a bit of scarring,

“You look like shit,” Dustin looked back at you and scoffed, he wasn’t wrong, you’d been wearing the same kind of clothes for two weeks, anything you could get your hands on. Mix matched sweats and sweaters, sometimes Steve’s t-shirts, on a very rare occasion you treated yourself by wearing a pair of jeans. Your usual full of life hair was lifeless and scraggly from the lack of brushing, your eyes blood shot from lack of sleep, red lips from gnawing at them constantly,

“Well, love you too, Dustin,” you rolled your eyes and went to the kitchen fetching juice and cookies on a tray, “so what is it today?” Dustin cleared his throat and made his way into the kitchen, taking a few cookies off the tray as he took a seat around the table drinking juice you’d bought specially for him,

“It’s Steve,” your breathing hitched as you looked to the floor, biting at your already raw lips, you pulled a second chair out and sat opposite Dustin, taking your own cookie and nibbling at it. You hadn’t eaten well for two weeks now,

“What about him?” you took a swig of your own juice and sit looking towards your younger friend,

“Don’t give me that, Y/N. I know you still care, Robin tells me things, y’know, and you’re not someone that doesn’t care about people,” Dustin shook his head, “this act is bullshit, Y/N. Steve is over there wondering what he did wrong, what he can do to help you, he’s broken, Y/N and none of us can get through to him, ne needs you and you need him and we need you both. We need our kick ass non babysitters back. We need to stick together. We can’t all break otherwise what do we have?” you bit the inside of your cheek letting Dustin talk, you had been unfair, everything in this world was so wrong and you were breaking the only good thing in it,

“I’m scared, Dusty,” you looked to him and he nodded, not wasting time to eat more cookies, all the kids loved your cookies,

“We all are, Y/N. you know this isn’t over right?” you looked down knowingly and started to play with the patterned table cover, “Steve needs you, I need you, we all need you. You know Eddie wouldn’t want this right?” you breathed deeply at the mention of his name, “you’re the bravest person he knew, he told me, and do you know what else?” you looked up from the table, “he loved you and Steve together, he saw how happy he made you and that’s what he wanted for you. He wanted you to be happy.” You sighed, breath shaky as a tear fell from your lashes onto the tablecloth you were playing with moments before,

“Well he got one thing wrong, he was the bravest.” Dustin put his hand over yours and gave it a light squeeze,

“Please just come and see Steve? Everyone is round there trying to cheer him up and he looks just as shit as you, if not more. If you don’t come with me, the others are going to try one by one, I’m the nicer one.” He stood up from the table, hopeful,

“Dustin I can’t,” disappointment clouded his eyes, “I can’t go over there empty handed, help me make some cookies?” the usual toothy grin from Dustin was back, one you hadn’t seen for a such a long time, one that made your heart swell. You loved those kids so much and you’d do anything to protect them, you felt bad for wallowing in in your own self-pity when everyone you cared about was going through the exact same thing as you. You’d nearly lost the one thing that made sense and you were going to try and not let that slip any further. You and Dustin got to work on the cookies, not failing to get flour all over the surface and yourselves. Once the cookies were in the oven and cooking, you looked over to Dustin, “Keep an eye on the cookies for me? I’m going to try and sort this out a bit,” you pointed to your mop of a hair as he grinned and nodded, picking up his walkie as you left the room,

“Guys, it’s Dustin, over.” He waited for the usual static of the walkie patiently as he pressed more buttons hoping to hear from the others,

“Hearing you loud and clear, Dustin, what’s the status, over.” Mike was on the other end, uncertainty in his voice, but hugged by hope, Will, El and even Lucas in the background hugging over the other walkie talkie hoping for a shred of good news. Max was still in hospital, though in good hands. There was hope that she’d still wake up, she was strong and a fighter. Lucas sat by her bedside every chance he got, but he too needed fresh air sometimes, to see his friends. Being cooped up waiting for someone to wake up wouldn’t do anyone any good if it was constant. Same four walls day in, day out. It took some time for him to realise that however.

“Guys, we have ourselves a code blue. Over.” Dustin chimed excitedly as the rest of the youngsters screamed in joy, they were out of ear shot from Steve and Robin, all around the pool as it was such a lovely day in Hawkins, warm with a light breeze hitting the trees and pool every now and then causing small ripples, birds still chirping. Even amidst all the uncertainty and heartache, life could be beautiful.

You looked into the mirror having put a little bit of makeup on, an extreme rarity for you with everything that had gone on the past few years, you’d finally put a brush through your washed hair and changed into something more you, high waisted jeans, a black t-shirt and a light denim jacket you could take off if you wanted, you felt the warmth through the bathroom window as you looked at yourself in the mirror once more, “presentable.” You could smell cookies downstairs signalling Dustin had kept to his word and kept an eye on then, not letting them burn. You hurried down the stairs with a skip to your step and twirled to Dustin who was standing in the hall with a cookie jar in hand, ready to pack them once they’d cooled a little,

“There’s the Y/N I know! Yes!” Dustin fist bumped the air with his free hand wishing the cookies would cool down faster. You gathered your shoes and a small bag to put your keys and anything else you needed in,

“what if he doesn’t want to see me?,” you stopped in your tracks, looking at Dustin unsure, “what if I’ve hurt him too much and he never wants to see me again?” you play with the hem of your denim jacket, backtracking, wondering if this was a good idea after all,

“you’re the only person he wants to see, Y/N. we just invite ourselves in and he’s too nice to tell us to get out,” you shake your head,

“You know that isn’t true, he loves you guys as much as I do, even if he’s in the worst mood possible, he’d always rather have you guys around, you know that,” Dustin nodded, putting the cooler cookies into the jar sealing them tightly, “did you bike over here?” you questioned as Dustin shook his head,

“I didn’t,” he grinned and dug his hand in his back pocket, pulling Steve’s car keys out and waving them in your face, “he doesn’t know, obviously,” Dustin shrugged as you shook your head and put your head in your hand laughing in disbelief, a real laugh, something you forgot you could do,

“Dustin! You could have caused an accident!” you tried to sound serious over your laughing that just wouldn’t stop,

“well, you don’t see many cars on the road these days after what happened, maybe people are too scared,” he shrugged once more, “not me, now. Let’s gooooo!” Dustin ran for the front door, cookies in hand, and his small backpack you didn’t realise he had draped over a shoulder,

“Ahhh. Not so fast, keys!” you extended your hand to Dustin, Steve absolutely loved that car, sometimes you wondered if he loved that car more than you and okay, Dustin got there safely, but now he was in your care he wouldn’t be driving that thing,

“Spoil sport,” he ginned as he handed you the keys stepping out into the outside. You took a deep breath. The smell of the outside you hadn’t seen in weeks. The light breeze through your hair the sun tingling against your skin, butterflies and birds, nature. Things you hasn’t stopped to look at for such a long time, “earth to Y/N,” you shook your head and walked towards the car, opening it for you both.

 You hadn’t driven in forever, was it something you could forget? Fastening your seatbelt, making sure Dustin did the same, starting the car and opening the windows, you pulled the sun visor down, a small Polaroid falling onto your lap. You turned it around to see a picture of you and Steve, your heart beating against your chest as you ran your finger over the photo. It was the first one you took together, before you were even official. Halloween 1984. That stupid party, the night Steve and Nancy broke up. You found Steve crying on the back step, you spent the rest of the night trying to cheer him up. One too many beers, weed and a stupid camera, “he kept it...” Dustin looked up at you as you put the photo in the dashboard opposite Dustin,

“Of course he did, he keeps everything,” you didn’t know that, you didn’t say anything further as you pulled off the drive, it wasn’t a long drive. It was actually an easy enough walk, you didn’t live far from Steve. The nights he would randomly turn up at your house and throw pebbles at the window even though no one else was in the house, small memories making you smile.

The drive was quiet, Dustin looking out the window the whole way there, your heart still hammering against your chest, would people be happy to see you, would they hate you, would things be the same, what the fuck were you going to say to Steve? Pulling onto his drive, things got too real, you heard laughter from the other younger people of the group outside as you locked up the car, Dustin rushing to the back gate with cookies, though before he could you were tackled by El, Mike, Will and Lucas, “Y/N OH MY GOD YOU’RE HERE!” mike exclaimed as you laughed with the kids, some of them sopping wet from the pool, of course they still loved you, “we all missed you so much, it’s so good to see you” you ruffled everyone’s hair, something you always used to do when they were younger, something you still hadn’t stopped, tears in your eyes, you smiled, for once they weren’t sad tears,

“I’ve missed you all so much, I’m sorry I haven’t been around, I’m sorry I haven’t been stronger for you all.” They all hugged you tighter, understanding, when did they all grow up?

“we all understand,” Lucas looks at you empathetically, “Max would want us all together, so would Eddie,” you hugged them all just that little bit tighter as they lead you into the back gate, not much had changed in Steve’s back yard except the grass was unkempt, the pool still clean somehow, “we will let you talk to Steve now,” you took a deep breath and looked towards the back sliding doors Robin leaning against them smiling as she ran out to hug you,

“Oh praise the heavens you’re here, I cannot deal with him in there for one minute longer,” you looked towards robin apologetically and she shook her head, “none of that, Y/N. Go see him, bring our Steve back, yeah?” she smiled and sat next to the kids, stealing one of the cookies you made.

You made your way into the house, the house that had so many different memories, you kicked your shoes off and put them where you always do before poking your head into the living room, Steve’s back was towards you as he was staring at the TV something you guessed he’d been doing for the past couple weeks, a lot like you really. His hair was too dishevelled and free of product, but oh fuck did he look like home. “If you’re there to try get me outside in the pool again, Robin I swear to fuck I will change the locks on this house.” He signed defeated and tuned round, his pupils dilating, shock on his face, the evident bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, “Y/N?” he scrambled off the sofa as fast as he could, scared you were a figment of his imagination, “is... is it really you? You’re here...” he stood opposite, reaching out to you,

“Steve...” tears welled in your eyes, “I am so, so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you, I didn’t want what I said, I was so lost in my own mind,” he pulled you into a bone crushing hug, “please forgive me, I’m so sorry,” you pulled away to look at him, tears in his own eyes as he brushed your free falling ones away with his thumb, “I love you so much, I was so scared of losing you too that I fucked up and lost you anyway,” he pulled you back into him, the smell of cedar, bergamot and a slight hint of cigarette smoke, home.

“You didn’t lose me, sweetheart. I love you, more than anything,” he pulled you into him, lips crashing together, cola Popsicle and a small hint of your home cooked cookies that Dustin must have been bringing to him secretly. Everyone loved your cookies. He pulled away and smashed his lips against yours again over and over, the taste of salt now from both of your tears, small lazy kisses planted all over your mouth as he pulled away, your lips slightly swollen, his honey eyes full of life once more, he was never going to let you go. He pulled you flush with his body, your head resting against his chest, as he ran his fingers through your hair, “you’re my home, Y/N. Wherever you are. That’s home to me. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, okay?” you kissed him again, your cherry chapstick smearing over both of your mouths,

“you’re my home too, Mr. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington,” you looked up to him, a smile on your face, no longer crying as you knocked your hip with his. The emptiness in your heart glazing over a little, the pieces of your broken heart slowly reconnecting, the feeling of life, love, family.

“Have you seen my hair right now?” he ran a hair though it, washed, but lifeless. “Give me a minute, yeah? Put a movie on.” He kissed you softly before sprinting out of the room. You sat on the sofa you’d sat on countless times as you went through old rentals that would probably never be returned as the video store was one of the places to be destroyed, you placed a VHS in the TV as Steve bounded down the stairs, his hair no longer lifeless and messy, but perfect. Your smile so big your jaw could dislocate, “better? The hair is back,” he grinned and jumped over you on the sofa, “Return of the Jedi? One of my favourites.” He pulled your legs over his lap, both of you draped over the sofa like nothing had changed, his hands caressing your knee, smiles not leaving either of your faces.

“GUYS, CODE BLUEEEE.” Dustin shouted from behind the sofa as everyone else bundled in, “and look at that, Farrah Fawcett spray,” Dustin grinned,

“That’s top secret, dude!” Steve shook his head, a genuine laugh falling from his mouth as everyone pulled blankets and cushions around themselves, your cookies in hand. A good old fashioned movie night, things were going to be okay, you looked over to Steve, his eyes glistening as he squeezed your leg. The people you chose as family, Robin in the corner of the room beaming for the both of you. Both of her best friends back together, where they belong. There was a long road ahead for all of you, but at least you’d always face these things together. You were all so much stronger together. A team. A family.

#steve harrington #steveharrington/reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington angst #steveharringtonxreader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you

[stars4gojo]

Let the Light in

Dad!Gojo x fem!reader // mentions of arguments & fights, angst, fluff // 947 words // gradeschool!Megumi

Gojo is used to people leaving him he believes when you die you die alone so it comes as a shock when you stay.

More of my work 🤍

You silently sit and stare at the boy across your dinner table - unable to find the right words. To say that you’re mad is an understatement, Satoru is late again, and your 7-year-old boy got into another fight. You impatiently tap your foot, wrapping your arms around your chest while Megumi eats up his sandwich.

The door suddenly opens and Gojo walks in, a box of cake in his hand and a big cheeky smile on his face.

You sigh exasperatedly as you turn to your clock and then to him, “Do you know how late you are Satoru? We’ve been waiting for almost an hour now.” You speak sternly.

“I’m sorry princess but I had to buy this little celebratory cake, Megumi did win his first fight.” Gojo replied as your eyes twitched in irritation.

“So, champ did you tuck your thumb in every punch.” Gojo bended down to Megumi as he patted his head.

“He used cursed energy to beat up 4 sixth graders.” You deadpanned before Megumi could say anything.

Gojo got up as his mouth dropped agape.

“You should’ve said so! I would’ve bought some party streamers with the cake.” Gojo replied as he snorted at his joke.

“Satoru this is serious, our 7-year-old child is beating up sixth graders with cursed energy - it could lead to big and i mean big injuries.” You frowned as you saw Megumi put his head down in shame.

“You understand what you did wrong right Gumi?” You added as he nodded shyly.

“I’m sorry” he replied curtly.

“Promise you won’t do it again” you spoke as you held out your pinky that he gladly accepted with a small smile.

“Thank you, now go to your room.” You said as his small figure dragged his feet to his room.

You knew that you would speak to him again privately about the situation but for now you had to deal with your man child of a boyfriend.

Now you turn towards Gojo who’s still standing there with little to no interest in the conversation.

“Toru what was that about? You can’t be congratulating or be excited for him when he’s getting into fights - you cannot encourage this behaviour.” You started speaking as your eyebrows squeezed in disappointment.

“Look y/n he is my child on papers so I think I can decide what to do.” He replied putting emphasis on the word “my”.

Your mouth fell slightly in shock as your eyebrow raised.

“No- no that’s not what I meant” He quickly added but the damage was already done.

“Okay Satoru, since Megumi is your child and he has absolutely nothing to do with me, I’ll be taking my leave.” You said as tears slowly formed in your eyes.

“Wha- that’s not what I me- where will you even go?” He asked hurriedly - now he’s worrying.

“That’s none of your business.” You spoke while grabbing your bag.

And just like that you were out the door.

-

It’s been 6 hours since you left, Gojo finished giving Megumi and Tsumiki their dinner (he ordered in McDonald’s) and even tucked them into bed - giving them little reassurances that you’re gone to Aunty Shoko’s house for a sleepover. But your two children were clever, they knew something was up, the little screaming match was not left unheard and Gojo’s worried glances towards his phone were not left unnoticed. But they also knew better than to question your love for them they knew you were different than biological parents - they trusted you completely to return.

Gojo flopped on the couch as he stared up at the ceiling, he sighed exhaustedly as it finally hit him - you had left.

He tried calling every number of every person you could possibly stay with, the only person who hadn’t picked up was Shoko no matter how many times he called so he assumed you were with her.

The silence slowly engulfs him as he looks back on the moment, he thinks to himself why he would ever say that. When he adopted Megumi and Tsumiki you two had promised each other that you were in this together. This silence grows by every second and he thinks he’s used to it - the same silence was there when his grandmother had passed, when he left geto to die and now it’s back to taunt him after you left.

His train of thoughts is stopped when he hears the door lock click, he turns his head comically fast to see you standing there giving him a tight-lipped smile.

He runs up to you as he takes you in his arms; not giving you any time to react.

“I’m sorry I’m so sorry you know I didn’t mean that right?” He spoke quickly as if you were going to disappear any second now.

“I love you so much and it was so wrong for me to even think that you’re any less of a parent to them.” He added as you let go of his embrace.

“I’m sorry Toru I shouldn’t have left, you’re right I’m not any less of a parent and it really hurt me to hear you say it.” You spoke with a slight frown still apparent on your lips.

“I know I know I promise I’ll never ever say that again so please don’t ever leave us to go to Shokos again.” He replied with a pout as you giggled in response.

“Alright your big baby, let’s get to bed?” You added as you grabbed his arms to interlock with yours and headed to bed where he would cuddle you all night.

'Cause I like to love, to love, to love, to love you I hate to hate, to hate, to hate, to hate you

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jjk scenarios #jjk #jjk spoilers #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen icons #jujutsu kaisen megumi #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk art #jjk fanart #jjk anime #gojo saturo #gojo angst

[ultralightpoe]

Spellbound Part 2 - Geralt of Rivia

Authors Note: Sorry it took so long, I just really had no clue how to do the first part justice

Word Count: 3,876

Warnings: reader is a brothel worker

Description:Part two to the first. FIRST PART HERE

Enjoy!

There were many times in Geralt's life where he felt an undeniable rage, and there were many times that he let that rage affect him until he was forced to suffer the consequences of all his actions. He had learned over the years that there were ways of handling his rage, there were ways of dealing with sadness and pain. 

He had been through so much, and yet he stood, and he always told himself that it would be worth it. Soon enough he would find something that would make it all worth it, and he had found that in you. 

Your soul matched his in a way he never thought possible, and though you didn’t have the same physical scars you had both been through more than you can imagine. And he always found himself gravitating to you, the one person in the world that he felt never judged or expected anything from him. 

Sure, he obviously did not know how to deal with this. He never knew how to talk to you, what to say and when to say it, and he really did not know how to seem casual just as Jaskier always could. Not to mention he was constantly worried about losing you. He felt like a flame, loving something so much and trying to engulf it into warmth only for it to burn and vanish. 

You had been through so much, he never wanted you to burn and he couldn’t imagine a life without you. 

So, even if he couldn’t show emotion or manage to properly show his love, he allowed Jaskier to grow close to you. Geralt made sure that you were physically safe, warm and fed. It was the least he could do. 

He never wanted to leave you wanting for anything, and he desperately tried to find ways to show you yet nothing ever worked. 

But then you were his, for one small moment he had you and he felt as though everything was worth it again. He would burn the world down for you, slay any monster and batter any mortal. It was all yours for the taking…

Until you burned. 

How ironic, how hard he fought to keep you at arms length only to lose the battle in a split moment, and be proven right just like that. 

Now you were gone. 

He knew exactly where you were, had already tried to get you, only to be stopped at the door each time.  Each time he was stopped he wanted to crush their skulls, storm up to wherever they were keeping you and try to explain. 

He would drag you out the door himself just to make sure you never had to do this again. But there were laws, as well as contracts. He would never be allowed to see you unless he could pay the fee, and you would never be allowed to leave unless you could buy out your contract. 

If he managed to get to you and help you escape there would still be the hassle of everyone hunting you down, and word spreads from town to town quickly when it comes to Witchers. 

“How much?” He growls, keeping his eyes narrowed in on the older woman before him, watching her lean back on her chair and fix her dress. She was unlike any other brothel owner he had come across, the others always had a protective notion for the girls. This one seemed vindictive in every word she spoke. 

“Witcher, I have told ye the last 4 times ye have been here that she is not for sale.” She laughs, reaching a foot out to kick the pouch of gold he had laid on the table in front of her. Her dress rides up exposing a very scarred leg, and his stomach tightens at the atrocities you must be going through with this hag and any man she rented you out to.  “Y/n is the emerald of all brothels, before she came upon mine she was already widely known for her beauty, not to mention her time with the Witcher? Men are practically killing themselves to have a moment with her. I stand to make more keeping her than I ever would selling her back to you.”

“Her contract-”

“Has another 4 years under my roof. By the end of that I could be far far away from this continent. Don’t you understand?” She leans forward, knocking the satchels down and watching all the gold pieces fall on the ground. 

That had been 4 months work, 4 months of Geralt working himself to the bone and saving up in a chance to save you. He hadn’t eaten properly or slept more than 2 hours a night in that span of time. 

Images flash through his mind, him ringing this wenches neck in or slamming her head into the fire. Maybe he could slice her head off in one clean motion. 

But he doesn’t, because he understands the consequences. So he bites his tongue and stands straighter. “I just want to see her-”

“Then you pay, just as everyone else.” The Madame sneers, leaning across the table. “I don’t give a fuck if you love her witcher, though I don’t believe you are even capable of that, my rules stay the same. You want to see her then you pay for her time.”

He leans forward, smirking a bit when her attitude drops in fear for a moment, before tilting his head. “Then how fucking much?”

-

“I really do not believe you were worth 230 gold pieces-” Lord Servail huffs, struggling to shove himself back into his trousers. You struggled not to roll your eyes as you sat up, pulling the sheet to cover yourself and looking at the floorboards of the raggedy room. 

You had learned that the men of this village did not like to be watched, most of them married and most of them carrying guilt. You had merely assumed Lord Servail to be the same. 

“Have you nothing to say, whore?” He bellows, walking across the room to grab at your chin. A moment of panic sinks in, one hand holding the sheet tight while the other grabs at his wrist in an attempt to free yourself. 

“I do not understand what you mean, sir-”

“You are boring! You just laid there like a fucking corpse-”

“That didn’t seem to stop you from finishing within a minute-” The slap sounds out and for a second you wonder what he hit, then you open your eyes and feel the stinging on your cheek to realize it had been you. 

A bitter laugh slips past your lips as you taste the iron. 

Blood trails down past your lips as tears spring up in your eyes, the sheets under you stained and ripped from the past month. You think of Geralt in this moment, wishing that you were near him even if he ignored you. 

There had always been a calming factor to the witcher that you never understood, maybe it was a feeling of safety or maybe you just liked that he never showed much anger. He took anything that affected him and made a rational judgment. 

He was a man of trust, and he had never let anything harm you. Sure he yelled at you when he thought you stupid, and made condescending remarks, but you never felt as though he would lay a hand on you. 

“Is that all?” You sniffle, reaching a hand up to stop the blood as he steps back. The man stares at you before yelling out and storming out of the room, shirt untied as well as the trousers. You hear him yelling at your Madame before he leaves and you move over to the basin in the corner to clean yourself off. 

You clean your nose before moving to clean your legs, letting the tears fall freely as you hear her heels come down the hall. 

“You’ve just cost yerself yer pay, I’ll tell you that much.” Madame snaps, the door swinging hard enough to make the wall shake as she marches in. “I told ye that Lord Servail was a valued client and you-”

“Smiled pretty and let him cum. He really didn’t complain much until it came time to pay.” You snark, watching her face pull up. “Have I any news? Anyone come to see me?” 

It had been a month, and you had kept hoping that maybe Geralt or Jaskier would come to see you. At least try to get you back, but nothing. No letters, no visits, nothing. 

“Yer Witcher isn’t comin for ya’. So I suggest you fix yerself up and get back to work.” The Madame snarls, tossing the silk robe at you before storming back out. 

That lonely feeling that clung to you the day you left never seemed to fade, it folds in around you now as you pull into yourself. Knees hugged to your chest as you hide your face and cry. 

Truly what did you expect? That he would come pounding on the door? Try to save you? The salty taste of the tears mixes in with the iron as you sob. You had been foolish, so very foolish. 

Geralt must be at least 6 towns away by now, barely even thinking of you. 

-

“I am terribly sorry to inform ye, Witcher, that my emerald is stacked up for the next week and a half.”

“Bullshit.”

She snarls at him, standing quickly and snatching a heavy book from the desk behind her before slamming it on the table. “Take a fucking look then.” 

He doesn’t waste a moment, snapping through the pages one by one until he reaches your ledgers. Your handwriting is at the top, neat and clean from the ink, dated that day you dashed from the tavern. 

The very same day he had raced over here to see you. 

The day after he had you in his arms. 

The memory of it flashes through him, the way he snatched you like a caveman. He tries to reason with himself that he believed it to be consensual, that he hadn’t realized you were under a spell. But it didn’t matter. 

He treated you in a way he swore to himself he never would, and he made you so uncomfortable that you ran. 

Bile rises in his throat as embarrassment and guilt claw through him, he snaps through your pages to see dozens of signatures on each page. “You have her seeing twelve clients each day?”

“This is a busin-”

“Is she eating enough? Sleeping enough? Are you giving her proper time to rest?”

“I’m not a fucking babysitter-”

“If you are abusing your contract then she has a right to leave!”

She stares at him, watching for a moment with wide eyes as her cheeks go red. Then she fixes herself, clearing her throat before shouting out loud. “BOYS!” He doesn’t fight it as they grab both of his arms, instead he lets them carry him to the door and throw him to the mud below. 

“Guessing she didn’t take it?” Jaskier asks, watching Geralt pick himself up, checking to make sure he still had the satchel of gold. “Surprise surprise.”

All Geralt could do at this point was grunt, moving towards Roach as the barb fixes his coat. 

“I have another job, heard whispers of a screaming creature in the woods not far off from here. Figured you’d want to go out and make more gold so we can do this all again over and over and over.” 

“She’s overworking her, I just know it. Not enough time to eat or sleep-”

“Geralt, as much as I love Y/n, I think we need to….evaluate our current situation.”

“I NEED TO -”

“Get to her. I know. I’m not saying anything otherwise. I just want you to think about whether you want her to see you like this.”

“I want to see her safe.”

“And Y/n would want the same of you. Besides, we obviously have no power against the brothel system.”

“I have fought countless beasts-”

“And I am still your only friend. It’s time you admit it Witcher, humans aren’t your best expertise.” 

If this was any other moment Geralt would ignore him, hop onto Roach and pretend the worm didn’t exist. But he was tired, so tired he truly didn’t think he could even climb onto the horse. 

“Then what do you suggest?”

“First? Sleep. Then? We find an outside source.”

- 

Two months in and winter had finally come. 

You found yourself huddling together with Snae, a brothel worker that had been here a little longer than you, but hadn’t been that much older. This had been the first night you both had off this entire time, and it hadn’t been a purposeful thing. 

There had been a ball in the village, apparently a beast had been slaughtered and most of the nobles and rich men left in their carriages far away. Which meant you were free to huddle close to your friend for warmth as you tried to fight off the winter air. 

“I imagined this brothel warmer.” She sniffles, pressing her forehead to your arm as you shiver. “I was told this was one of the best-”

“It is….. To their guests.” You laugh, tired and aching. Honestly you could barely move, and you hadn’t managed to make it at dinner hour since you had been with a client. But Snae was nice enough to sneak you in a roll of bread. 

“I want to get out of here.” She admits in a quick breath, and you can’t help but smile at the admission. 

You had often imagined ways you would escape, but the truth was you had nowhere to go and no one to leave for. What would you have if you left here? Nothing.

So instead you close your eyes, and lean into her as you whisper. “Where would you go?”

“Home. To find my sister.” 

“You have a family?” 

“A little sister, it’s why I am here. I wanted to make sure she had something to pay for food.” Something tears at your chest, and within a moment you think of a plan. 

“Then let’s get you out of here.”

It takes a mere 30 minutes to pack her a travel pack using a sheet from the bed, rushing to your room to pick up the floorboard where you keep the little pay you make, 10 silver coins. Tossing them in her satchel before tiptoeing to the attic where the largest window was. 

“Shhh.” You whisper when she slips, the wood beneath her scraping under her shoe. Helping her stand before moving to the window. Unlatching it was easy, the winter air covering both of you in a moment. “You swill slide from this section to the next. Until you make it to that tree.”

“You go first.”

“I am not coming.” You laugh, clearing some of the snow from the sill. 

“You must.” 

“No, I have nothing. Besides, one of us needs to stay and give you time.” 

“Y/n-”

“If she begins hunting you then go and find the witcher. Do you hear me?”

“He wouldn’t help someone like me.” She laughs, and you merely stare at her. 

“I think you would be surprised of just how good of a person the Witcher is, though he likes to pretend he is not.”

“What should I say to him if I must find him?”

“That the Geralt I know would keep you safe. Now go.” 

You help her climb up the sill and onto the roof, watching her slide down in the flimsy robe Madame forces you to wear and make sure she makes it to the tree safely before closing the window. 

You allow yourself one moment to press your forehead against the cold glass of it, your breath hitting the glass to form a smudge.  You imagine escaping yourself, maybe going out to find Jaskier. 

But that was unrealistic. 

And you were obviously unwanted.

-

“Please, it’s very important-” A strong female voice fills the air as Geralt breathes in the scent of roast and ale. There was also smoke from the fires but he was far too hungry to admire that scent on it’s own.  “They said that he was here and-”

“First round of ale on me.” Jaskier sings out, moving to the counter as Geralt rolls his eyes. Jaskier was carrying his gold sack so truly the first round was on him. 

He was six villages away from you right now, landing at a cheap tavern for the night before they set up camp. They were here to listen for jobs. 

The plan, as terrible as it was, had been to travel to find Yennefer and along the way they would earn some extra gold. That way when they go they can send the witch in to make the deal, or at least pretend to make the deal as she can try to sneak you out. 

It was a terrible plan……. Because it was Jaskiers plan. 

“Please, I need to find the witcher.” That draws Geralt's attention away from the hearth he had been glaring into, head whipping to spot the young woman clutching the shoulders of a little girl as she begs the man once more. “If you could just tell me where he would be staying-”

“Witchers aren’t allowed in the fucking taverns here, so shut yer trap before I put it to work-.” Before Geralt could stop himself his hand is shooting out, catching the man by the back of the neck. At his movement the hood he had been wearing falls and the people around him all quiet down. 

The womens eyes fall to him, widening. “You are just as Y/n described.”

Something tightens in his chest at the mention of your name, and he finds himself nodding to Jaskier to lead the girl outside. The air hits him, the warmth gone but there was nothing that would hinder him from the conversation. 

“You know Y/n?” His voice is rough, the heat traveling his skin hiding him from the cold. The woman's eyes are filled with tears and the young girl is shoving her face in the smallest scrap of dress he had seen, so in one quick moment he rips his hood off to hand to them. “Is that what you wear in this cold?” “Please, I… I’m from the same brothel as Y/n and she helped me escape. All my money has gone to keeping my sister warm….. Y/n said that you would help. She said the Geralt she knew would help.”

“Where is she?” His heart is thundering through his ribcage at this point, and he can see Jaskier emerging from the tavern. “Did she make it-”

“She didn’t come.”

“Why?”

“Probably scared she wouldn’t make it out. Or might believe she is all alone and has nothing to escape for.” The feminine voice makes Geralt jump through his skin. Suddenly she is there, smelling of smoke and lavender. 

“Yennefer.” Jaskier gasps, but Geralt hadn’t needed him to let him know. 

“Tell me, Geralt of Rivia, about the woman who broke the witcher.”

You were no longer tired at this point, truly you were nothing. 

You didn’t speak, missed more meal times than not from being stuck with clients and at this point you didn’t seem to care. You were just breathing, and that was as much energy as you can muster. 

Three months into this place had truly broken you. 

Yennefer thought this place smelled of urine and death, and though she respected the females brave enough to work here she had absolutely no fucking clue why any man would risk stepping in here.

 One look at the young girl passing her with a bruise on her cheek told her all she needed to know. The men that came here didn’t care about anything but getting themselves wet and letting off some steam. 

“I have a room upstairs, I charge 50 a month in rent, half your earnings are to the house and the rest belong to you.” A voice sounds out, drawing Yennerfers attention away from the young girl with the bruise, back to the raggedy woman sitting at the counter. 

“Excuse me?”

“I have a room for ye-” 

“I’m not here for a room. I’m here for a girl.” 

“Really?”

Yennefer slaps 2 gold coins onto the counter, a smirk crossing her face as the woman's eyes widen in greed. “I was told you had an emerald here.”

“You’re here for Y/n….only problem there is it’s double for her time.” Yennefer sighs, taking out one more coin and slapping it down. “I said double.”

“And I am willing to go and tell the town that your girls are sick.”

“What do you want with Y/n?”

“I figured you wouldn’t need me to explain how your business works but if you need a lesson in fucking then you would have to pay ME double.”

“She is in the top room. Don’t bother knocking.” And just like that Yennefer is moving, picking up her skirts to walk up the steps, trying not to breathe in the smells as she reaches your room. 

Just as the brothel worker said she doesn’t bother knocking, and it was clear why when she walked in. 

The beauty Geralt had described last night was still there, just one look and even Yennefer was nearly at a loss for words. But the spark, the light of you was gone. You stared at the wall before you, empty and gone. 

“Y/n?” She calls, closing the door behind her. “Y/n…”

“I can’t….she said I’d have a day.” You sob, pulling into yourself. 

“You’ll have more than a day, I can promise that.” Yennefer smiles, moving closer slowly. “Your witcher has sent me.”

“My witcher?” There it was, some of that spark. “He’s gonna be mad at me.”

“Now that I can swear on. Come.”

-

Geralt stood pacing back and forth on the pathway as he waited for Yennefers portal to open, his heart in his throat and his eyes glued to the space before him. 

Jaskier waited at the inn they had found with the girl you had saved, Snae. But for now it would just be him waiting for Yennefer, far enough from the town that they would have a head start if anyone went looking for you whilst the rest would cause a stir and send them on a chase. 

They had learned from Snae that Madame had sent a bounty out on her, so Geralt could only imagine what she would do to you. ‘Her emerald’. 

Then it was there, forming like a cloud at first until it got bigger and bigger until it began showing like a mirror. 

Then Yennefers hand came through and Geralt found himself launching forward as she stepped through, both arms wrapped around…..you.

He was there, his hands on you as soon as he could, keeping you upright as Yennefer lets go. “Y/n.”

“Please don’t be mad.” You whisper. 

“What has she done to you…..”

Part 3 on October 30th

@sagelovesreading

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#geralt imagine #geralt smut #geralt x reader #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt fluff #geralt angst #the witcher smut #witcher fanfiction #the witcher angst #the witcher #witch #henry cavill #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia smut #geralt of rivia angst #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia fanfiction #gearlt #geralt #yennefer #jaskier #the witcher season 3 #the witcher season three #the witcher season 2 spoilers #the witcher seasonn 1

[sukunas-wife]

PLEASE TEACHER SUKUNA!! I love him so much. Imagine him “proposing” after attending someone’s wedding and him saying something along the lines of “back when i was a brat, marriage was yet another political affair … im glad i found you now.”

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH I LIVE FOR AND LOVE TEACHER SUKUNA BECause I think of this VERSION in his “normal” form but I also- when he wants to be true form idk how but he can convert to true form. Because cmon he’s Ryomen Sukuna, if anyone can do it, it’s the 1000+ yo sensei. Let me get this show on the road :’)

Let’s pretend this was posted Easter morning as a little Easter gift 🤍🤍🤍

It was a few years after your graduation and you were well into your years as a teacher at Jujutsu high. 3 almost 4 years, considering you’ve been with Ryomen Sukuna for 3 of those years.

But today was a special day, it wasn’t an anniversary or anything, no it was a wedding.

There you sat by Sukuna, you couldn’t help but take a longer look out of the corner of your eye. You had to fight back a smile at his concentrated brow, it made him look more annoyed than he already seemed to be. You saw his eye flick to you before you looked away to your left to avoid being caught.

Shoko leaned over, “So it’s Gojo and Gojo sensei, those poor kids aren’t going to know what hit them when they come in.” You laughed, “It’ll be hell if Gojo really starts to wear off on Gojo.” She snickered and you both straightened up catching Getou’s unimpressed and raised brow from the altar. You tried not to laugh when you heard Shoko force whisper through her laugh “Gojo sensei might get mad and punish us, be quiet y/n.” You wanted to laugh harder, having to hold yourself back as your stomach trembled and you bit your lip. You could hear Shoko letting out shaky breaths trying to breathe. You sniffled, hands grabbing at your robes, Satoru had persisted everyone dress in traditional attire because he knew it was what Suguru wanted even if he wouldn’t voice it.

You focused back on the scene, unaware of your hand still grabbing tightly to your robes until you felt heat moving over your own hand. Your eyes flicked over to see Sukuna’s hand on yours, he didn’t look at you giving your hand a squeeze telling you to let go. You did, your hand falling flat under his hold, you didn’t miss the way his head lifted slightly and the small twitch at his lips.

You did your best to turn your hand under his heavy hold, just managing to interlock your fingers and pay attention to the Vows. Satoru was saying something ridiculous that even Suguru was wearing a bit of a “are you serious?” Look. You heard Sukuna let out a single snort through his nose and it made you smile. You smiled bigger trying to not laugh when Suguru visibly sighed, shoulders slumping briefly when he looked over the crowd. There was no doubt he saw you and shook trying to force the laughs and smiles back while trying to look down to avoid his look. The time old question came around, “Do you, Satoru Gojo, take Suguru Geto to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Gojo was smiling like a fool, “I do.” Suguru had a small smile, Satoru was a fool but there was no doubt he was Suguru’s fool. “Do you, Suguru Geto, take Satoru Gojo as your lawfully wedded husband?” Suguru’s smile grew to be just as cheesy as Gojo’s “I do.” “You may now kiss the groom.” Yaga looked away not wanting to see the act directly in front of his face, being the one to marry them was enough in his eyes. Everyone cheered and applauded as the two shared their first married kiss. You couldn’t, considering the fact your hand was being held hostage, and due to the fact that everyone was asked to stand outside to congratulate the couple. Sukuna dragged you with him to the grooms while they were signing their marriage certificate. You were confused and were going to ask why, until Sukuna pulled out a gold fountain pen, it had a diamond. The two moved away leaving the paper to him, Geto had a small smile and Gojo was smiling like a fool. “Thanks for doing this man!” Gojo smacked Sukuna’s shoulder only getting a side eye, as he sighed the witness line with a perfect and extravagant signature. Get smiled at you, “Thank you for being a witness to our marriage.” You were confused still, until Sukuna handed you his pen then you understood. “Oh, it’s a pleasure Suguru, who else gets to say they officiated Satoru and Suguru Gojo’s wedding.” Your smile made Geto laugh while you felt like you were signing your life away.

—- —- —- —- —- —-

The evening passed as everyone drank and lived their party up. Sukuna had listened to you talk with Shoko and Haibara who were sitting at the same table. He was busying himself with his sake, eyebrows raising head tilting slightly as he was pleased with the quality. Maybe that dumbass Satoru did know enough to please him. “Come on y/n! Come congratulate the boys with me!” Shoko was surprisingly pulling at your arm and you laughed, “Sorry Sho, I already congratulated them, Take Haibara with you, I’m sure he’d love to go with you.”

“Nooooo I want you to go with me.” Sukuna was watching out of the corner of his eye, questioning why you were so persistent on not jumping up to bully Satoru and Suguru as you usually would. Finally Shoko relented with a sigh, taking Haibara with her, you smiled, shaking your head no as you looked at the table. Noticing sukuna’s Choko was empty, you took the sake to fill his cup. His brow querked, watching your soft features, “Are you unwell, woman?” You looked up at him a little confused “I’m fine Sukuna why?”

He took the choko you had just filled, watching you as he drank. “Then why didn’t you go with your little friend?” You hummed with a small smile filling his choko again, “I’d really rather just be here with you Sukuna.”

That was the end of that conversation as peace fell over your quiet table and your companions came back, Shoko complaining that Haibara kept apologising for her. She had begun to tell you some of the things she had said to which Sukuna had even chuckled to himself. The festivities ran into the last hours of the night, Satoru was tearing it up on the dance floor trying to messily seduce Suguru who was facing second hand embarrassment and turning away from the scene that was being recorded and photographed by not only 5 different professional photographers but everyone who snuck their phone in, you included much to Suguru’s dismay. Sukuna was smiling watching “That idiot Gojo” present a ridiculous scene that he would never live down. You understand now why Gojo never drank when the party came to an end because Gojo became brave and tried to hollow purple a mosquito that had landed on Suguru’s cheek.

At that point you had lost it burying your face against Sukuna’s arm trembling from laughing. He looked at you amused seeing you gasping for air and silently laughing tears welling in your eyes. It was time for him to take you home, maybe he shouldn’t have let you join him in all those rounds of sake.

But he could admit to himself, he enjoyed the confidence you displayed, the sight of you smiling and touching him so casually as if he wasn’t the 1000+ year old king of curses who could so easily overthrow your little world.

—- —- —- —- —-

The Monday after was uneventful, back in School tending to students. Studying them to see where their weaknesses were, figuring out where you need to help them improve.

“What are you thinking?” You turned to find Suguru. “These kids suck, look at this.” Your hand motioned to them, they were getting beat up by Fushiguro who was putting no effort into battling the group of 5. Suguru smiled, closing his eyes, “Well it takes something special to hold your own against someone who’s well trained with a heavenly restriction y/n.” It sounded like he was teasing you. You side eyed him, “I could take him.” You joked and Suguru laughed, shaking his head, “I’m sure you could, but what are you really thinking? You didn’t even notice Satoru standing behind you for 10 minutes not too long ago. He was so offended by your lack of attention he ran to me to come find you.” You rolled your eyes, “Hard to believe that’s really how my superior acts.”

“Well?” Suguru asked, giving you a closed eye smile, it reminded you of a cyndaquil. You sighed, closing your own eyes, “thinking about marriage regretfully.”

You turned to see his eyes widened, “Sukuna proposed? Do you not want to marry him y/n?” He spoke in an incredulous whisper. While looking around, “No, he didn’t propose, and it’s not that I don't see myself marrying him if he ever did propose it’s…”

You fell silent, eyes looking away, “Don’t tell me your planning on over throwing the jujutsu world and that’s why you won’t commit Y/n.” He raised a brow at you and your eyes met his, “I, no! Maybe… no! Well actually…” your head tilted to the side, “no, no no that’s not it I don’t care about that, I don’t wanna say this on school ground because you never know who’s listening. But it’s not that I don’t see myself marrying Sukuna, I don’t see Sukuna marrying me at all.” Suguru gave you a look.

“Y/n you truly are a fool,” you gave him a look back, “A man doesn’t pay thousands for matching robes and kimonos for just any event because he’s just in a relationship y/n. You might not see it, but almost everyone else in this school can see it as plai- stink stink! I made you something.” You turned away from Suguru with a smile, “Stink stink huh?” He sighed, shoulders slumping, “He’s spending too much time on the American side of social media y/n. If I didn’t love him I wouldn’t tolerate this, the same way I can almost confidently say if Sukuna doesn’t genuinely love you even a bit, he wouldn’t tolerate you being as close as you are.” You watched as Suguru smiled, as satoru stood beside him. “A macaroni bracelet.” You smiled watching as Satoru tied it on Suguru’s wrist, “Now we match Suguru.” Suguru laughed through his nose, “That’s why we got custom rings Satoru.” Gojo pouted so you don’t want it?” You turned “Well I’ll leave both of you too it,” you waved them off leaving your poor students to Fushiguro’s hands.

Walking the school you were left thinking to yourself and judging your attire with every window you passed. Out of everyone in this school there was no doubt in your mind that you customise your requests more frequently than anyone, to think just last month you requested this style when Yaga was ordering necessities. You’d even gotten Sukuna to help you change your design a bit, he even branded the back of your shirt collar to have the mark his tongue had oddly enough.

“Where are you going, brat?” Sure enough there was Sukuna standing in an open window looking unimpressed and intrigued at how you were going to walk by him without notice.

“Oh, Sukuna! Sorry, I’ve just been out of it all day.” You looked at his face quickly, instantly deciding it was better to look at the floor. “Come here, it’s been a thousand years since my hearing started to go.” You laughed stepping closer knowing that was a lie, he could probably hear Geto hiding from Gojo half the time. Just as you got closer he grabbed the front of your shirt dragging you out the window like it was nothing. Leaving you stumbling and holding onto him before you felt the ground, the cigarette between his lips didn’t falter, “What’s wrong.” It wasn’t a question. “‘M just tired I guess, and my students aren’t doing too well. They should have a decent grasp on their techniques but it feels like they only get more and more hopeless. It feels like I’m not getting anywhere. So I asked Toji to rough em up for a while so they can at least work with cursed tools and close combat if they fail at their techniques.”

Sukuna was staring and listening, sure you said one thing, but he knew better than that. You never explained so deeply unless you were really trying to convince him of something to avoid something else. “Alright then.” Was all he said leaning back against the wall taking a drag from his cigarette. You let yourself fall into his side against his arm, you stayed like that for a bit until he pulled his arm free, dropping it over your shoulders and pulling you closer into his side. He didn’t know how to ask you what was troubling you so deeply so instead he let you find comfort in his side. He held you tighter when he felt you bury your face in his side, hand coming up to weakly grab his shirt. His hand rubbed your shoulder while he dropped his cigarette, stepping it out of existence, before he pulled you around to his chest. His arm stayed around your shoulders, that hand moving to the back of your head holding you head against his chest, his secondhand came to your back slowly rubbing up and down, resting his chin on your head trying to comfort you the way he had seen you comfort a child on one mission. Your sniffle sounded so pathetic yet it squeezed his chest in a way he didn’t understand, “Thank you Kuna…” your slight tug at his shirt didn’t loosen until you pulled away from him and he let you go.

The sun had started to set leaving you in an orange glow, you were curious why he was even around the school if he didn’t have a class today. “Why ar-I had a mission it was over before it began.” You smiled up at him, “I see.”

“Let me walk you back to your dorm, before your brats come to look for you.” His hands tucked into his pockets, you were quick to hug his arm when he offered his elbow with the slightest movement. It was nice, almost like you could have a normal life with Sukuna one day. Your walk was quiet and nice, you listened to Sukuna talk about his mission being a special grade, and a local deity of some village. She had been parading around saying she was the God of Curses, so he had to prove a point. You were humoured by the way his chest puffed when you offered praise saying of course The True King of Curses would be able to conquer Gods with ease.

It was after you were standing in your door facing him that you noticed him lingering. Did he want to come in? You were about to ask when he held out his right hand, you were confused, “Let me see your hand.” You were quick to put your hand in his and studied your hand with a blank expression, you became self conscious of your nails and what if your hands looked funny??? What if- you stopped feeling his thumb run over your knuckles, “Interesting.” Was all he said before letting your hand go.

“Rest y/n,” you watched as he stepped back, “Do your best to not worry so much. Only a fool would waste their life away wondering if something deemed impossible would ever really happen or not.” You were confused until your phone rang. You pulled it out looking away from Sukuna’s retreating figure. It was a message in a group chat with Geto, Gojo, and Shoko, ‘Oh, our little Y/n is taking a man to her home.’ Shoko sent a clear picture of where you were holding onto Sukuna’s arm, he was staring down at you, you were looking up at him, and your dorm house was very clearly in frame. Then Geto sent an image, “It seems she had it planned from earlier today.” It was a video of Sukuna dragging you out the window followed by a picture of the way Sukuna held you against him. Gojo finished you off, “I will give it till the end of the year and she’s either pregnant or getting married.”

—- —- —- —- —-

Spring days warmed to summer afternoons as months passed, you found yourself dying on the engawa in your new uniform. It was a light material and fitted long sleeve shirt and loose pants like Suguru’s, you’d take Toji’s advice and get shoes like his, they were perfect for slipping off and throwing at people like Gojo even if they’d never hit him. He’d forget in the moment and would fold easily.

One thing didn’t change, the mark of Sukuna stayed permanently embroidered on your shirt. “Y/n?” You lifted your head from the wood, opening your eyes, “Oh, hi.” You smiled at Shoko who gave you a sympathetic look, “Why aren’t you at the school? We’ve been looking for you.”

“Oh, my kids are on a mission and I get the feeling they won’t be back till tomorrow. I didn’t want to do any extra work so I just came home.” She watched as you moved to lay on your side, one leg stretched out and the other propped up. Your head being half up by an arm that was propped up, your free hand grabbing a fan to fan yourself, “It’s so hot even in the shade it’s ridiculous, I need the fall season to come back.”

She watched you, “Your significant other was looking for Y/N, maybe you should find him?” She shrugged, “But that’s all I know though, have fun.”

You whined licking your feet, with the summer festivities there have been so many festivals, tourists, and things festering, everyone’s been on double time. Meaning you hadn’t seen Sukuna as frequently as before, and now he was looking for you? You should have called him, but your phone fell off the engawa and you hadn’t picked it up, and Shoko had left before you remembered. They passed as you laid there spacing out in your own head in fantasies of arguments you’d probably never have but preparing so you could win. Your argument with Gojo was interrupted with Sukuna’s voice, “How long are you planning to ignore me woman?” You rushed sitting up forcing your stiff muscles to cooperate.

“I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just…” your head tilted to the side, “thinking over a conversation I had with Satoru.” He knew instantly you were just arguing with a figurative Gojo in your head, oddly enough he had caught Satoru doing the same. He humoured himself thinking the two of you had some unknown connection to insult and argue with one another. “Take this and get ready, we’re going out tonight.”

You were excited the moment you saw the box, Sukuna surprisingly had very good taste in attire, but what you were more excited for was that if he got you a new set of robes it means he also had a new set of robes to match. You jumped up carrying the heavy box with you getting ready to run into your dorm before you stopped, placing the box down and being about eye level with Sukuna thanks to the raised engawa. You pulled his face to the side kissing his cheek, “Thank you, I’ll get ready quickly.” Just as you were about to rush off you stopped smiling sheepishly, “Will you pass me my phone? Please?” He looked down following your finger, there it was, your phone. He reluctantly picked it up muttering something under his breath until he saw your Lock Screen. There was no chance in hell he hadn’t noticed someone following both of you to your home. Yet there was proof, he was becoming too comfortable with you. The picture from behind, of you holding onto his arm from months ago. He passed you your phone, “I’ll be back after you let me know you’re ready.” You smiled nodding, “I’ll call you as soon as I finish up.”

—- —- —- —- —-

It took you an hour to have a quick shower, and fix the robes you thought were so pretty. They were light blue and white, and you couldn’t help unceremoniously flailing your arms around making the extended fabric of your sleeves flutter and fly around with loud sounds, “It’s so pretty.” Your little pose in the mirror made you feel cute before you tied your hair back with the blue hair ribbon. It was failure after failure until you gave up and Sukuna arrived. He walked in to watch you aggressively pulling the ribbon out of your hair flinching when you lost 2 or 3 hairs. You watched Sukuna standing behind you when you were aggressively tie your hair to fail, finally he smacked your hand lightly when you tried to yank the ribbon out again. “Stop mistreating my things L/n.” His voice was a stern warning when he slipped the ribbon from your hand, you looked down slightly feeling his hands run over your hair. His fingers running over your scalp pulling a bit of your hair back, you watched through the mirror as he pulled the ribbon from between his lips tying it easily, you were going to move but you noticed how his hand lingered on the strand of hair tied by the ribbon. He let it slowly slip from his hold, “We need to leave.”

Sukuna had brought you to walk with him through the Arashiyama Bamboo grove. It was a summer night, but also the night of a festival meaning it wouldn’t be as busy as you normally would be. It was exactly what you expected as you walked through the Bamboo forest, full moon rising and lighting up the sky.

You held onto Sukuna’s arm, head laid on his shoulder as he casually led you through the space. Until you made it to decent sized clearing you’d seen many tourist use for photos. “Sukuna,” your voice was like a whisper. His eyes flicked to look down at you, “hm.” “Can we take a picture here? This is the first time we’ve been together here and I’ve seen people take pictures here, so maybe we can….” You were smiling at him hopefully. He looked at you a second longer than you liked to admit, “Your ambition is palpable, I’ll feed into your desires for now y/n.” You didn’t miss the spark in his eyes, as you handed him your phone, he set it up along with his on the fence point across from where you stood. It was weird for him to use his phone, usually any photos you took you’d send to him whether he’d ask or not and he’d be content with that.

Still he stood by your side, you pulled his heavy arm around his waist to rest your head on his shoulder. Your right arm behind his back to hug his waist, your left hand reached out to take his right hand to hold it in the picture. It was cute, your phone screen flashed but Sukuna’s hadn’t so you stayed still hoping it would. That was until you felt Sukuna pull himself away, you looked at him about to stop him.

Your expression was priceless, your dropped jaw, wide eyes. The look of disbelief, the way your hands smacked your face covering your eyes and moving down to cover your mouth while you started to tear up. He hadn’t even had time to ask the question before you were crying, “Listen to me before you started crying y/n.” You sniffled, wiping your face vigorously and unceremoniously with your sleeves nodding and trying to pay attention to him.

He tried his best to look at you, but his eyes faltered and he took a deep breath, “I understand the concept of marriage in our eyes were to completely different things,” he rolled his eyes, “I’ve heard you say it many many times that if you ever married a man it would be because you’re affections were deeply requited. My own,” he closed his eyes clenching his jaw for a second, “My own interests in marriage were strictly political or to produce what could be a stronger generation.” His eyes were somewhere beyond you, before he settled on your face, you could see the brief flash of vulnerability, “When I was an ambitious and aggravating brat I had only ever thought of marriage as a way to improve one’s lineage, as the golden age of sorcery came to an end for its own reason, my ideals of a political marriage have come to an for one sole reason.” He opened the ring box showing a flashy golden ring, “Your presence is peculiar, your ambition and confidence are palpable, there is no soul on this earth that has ever managed to catch the attention of my body, soul and mind. I feel as if our lives have become ensnared with one another like the wild wisteria. As displeasing as it sounds, I can wholeheartedly admit y/n, that in all my years, with every breath, I am gratified, elated, and beyond pleased to have found you, so now I ask you,” you were tearing up at his little speech, “Y/n…” he paused and you could feel his judgement for your years before you saw the smile tug at the edge of his lips, he knew he had you hooked and you wouldn’t say no even if he made you stand there for another 30 minutes, “Will you have the honour in marrying- YES! Sukuna, yes!” You tacked him in a hug, kissing him and kicking him back, he held you with one arm snapping the box closed to not lose your ring. He was sat back on the ground, you were in a weird position of kneeling and lying on him while you wrapped your arms around his neck kissing him, he kissed you back pulling you against him tighter in a rougher kiss. You laughed against his lips pulling away taking his face in your hands kissing his forehead, cheeks and lips again. He let you, amused by your actions he didn’t fight off your public displays of affection, instead he revelled in the feeling of your lips on his skin until you stopped offering to help him up. After he stood you were snuggling up to his side hugging his arm, you didn’t care about the right, you were content enough knowing he had asked the question, at this rate in your brain you were saying he could give you a bread tie with a craft gem and you’d probably show it off anyways. He looked down at you, your little love struck closed eye smile. Still he took your hand and you opened your eyes watching as he popped open the white swan ring box, sliding the ring onto your finger, it was a perfect fit. You ooo’ed before reaching up to his face to pull him down and kiss him again. You were going to pull away when you felt his hand pull you back into him, he kissed you this time, “This is your warning y/n, if I find you mistreating my things against you will be punished, hmm.” You felt the embarrassment and heat on your face when you buried your face against his shoulder, “I uh… I understand .”

—- —- —- —- —-

“Alright- so as Satoru so kindly pointed out,” you forced a smile at Gojo who snickered, this is a waste of time because Mr. Nah, I’m Sato Gojo, wants to prove he’s the best he’s taking all special grade assignments this months everyone just throw your stuff at Hoe-jo.” Shoko snickered and Gojo protested “That’s not what I meant! I don’t wanna get stuck doing all the special grades!”

“WELL THAT'S TOO DAMN BAD SA TO RU You’re doing them because you made me mad” your line made Sukuna laugh through his nose catching almost everyone’s attention for a second, before he reclined in his sets arms crossed his chest.

“Now, Yaga wants us to list down things we need for this new semester and no one is going to take time later this week to do it so I’m doing my best to do a general list,” everyone watched as you started to hang a large paper pad on the roll in board, “So this is the list of general items everyone usually requests.” You motioned with your hand to the names off most of the teachers, “you see here-IM SORRY-“ Gojo cut you off looking at you in disbelief, “but what’s that???” He was pointing at you accusingly and you were confused just to see Geto, Shoko and Haibara as equally judgmental, Nanamin, Toji and Sukuna were having their own conversation, you felt your eye twitch “what do you mean SATORU, I JUST EXPLAINED ITS A LIST- NO Y/N WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT DO I MEAN!? LOOK AT THAT!” He pointed again and you looked at the board, “Satoru please I will cry if your playing with me again,” Sukuna looked over briefly at the mention of your crying. Geto spoke up, “Y/n… I really don’t think he’s playing if you just think about this for a second.” You watched as he waved his left hand around as if telling you to continue, “Suguru, If I didn’t think he was playing I would 100% give him an answer, and I did-“ Shoko gave you an incredulous look, “Sweetie, y/n.” You watched as she held up her left hand, taking her ring finger between her thumb and pointer finger. It was then you slowly looked at the board, your hand splayed out on the paper. There was your ring, gleaming at its mention under the school's light.

“Oh… THAT'S what you mean.” You looked back at Gojo, he was giving you an “Are you serious look?.” You cleared your throat, “You see Satoru, all those times you say you move in silence because you're a beast of prey or something like that?” He raised a brow, “So you do watch my snap stories? “Regrettably yes, they make me laugh and cringe, but you see -OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT!” You pointed out the window with pure fear, they all rushed over letting you slip out the room unnoticed, “Escaped that situation.” Just as you were making your way down the hallway you heard screaming coming from the room, more specifically Satoru, “WHO SAID YOU COULD MARRY MY Y/N RYOMEN!?” you heard the whack clear as day, “GAH Sugguurruuu why’d you hit meeee???” You smiled to yourself, “Who said she was your y/n Satoru?”

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[chokepoet]

Cruelty & Empathy 18+

gif by @romulussy

Summary | A night alone in the office has Roman and his assistant escalating their tension past a point of no return. The aftermath of which leads to confessions that will change the trajectory of their relationship forever.

Genre | Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Content | anxiety, biting, blood, bondage, choking, crying, dom/sub tones, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of past physical abuse, power struggles, thigh riding, sadomasochism, slapping, spitting

Word Count | 8.5k

A/N: Y’all this fic is fuckin’ filthyyyy… but like in a romantic way??? I wasn’t going to share it but my best friend insisted. If y’all hate this I volunteer as tribute for boar on the floor lmao

Roman Roy’s Office | 10:33 pm

He was sprawled out across the couch as if this were his family’s private estate. It might as well have been. The building’s climate control always seemed to be blowing a peculiar air. One that felt like his father breathing down the back of his neck at all times. Left calf draped over the backrest, right hand cradling a whiskey, and head tilted back over the armrest. His once-slick hair now hung limp, with loose strands reaching for the carpet below. His upside-down gaze willed me to stop my attempts at meeting our deadline and to focus solely on him instead.

My bank account's dwindling had my morals emaciated. They’d weakly played tug of war with my last braincell when I'd accepted Roman’s job offer nearly two years prior. About 6 months into being his assistant, I found myself earning another role: his best friend. His only friend. My typing picks up speed as I contemplate what level of fucked-up I had to be in order to actually enjoy this job. I decide it must have been top-tier when my thoughts drift to the one Roy that had me feeling this way.

In the past 22 months, I came to understand Roman better than anyone else ever had. He somehow wormed his way into gaining just as much insight into me as well. It made me feel strangely protective over him. Oddly enough, he seemed to reciprocate. We still rarely aloud ourselves vulnerability in the presence of the other. We much preferred self-immolation. I don’t think he ever intended to grow so attached to me. He certainly would never admit to it. If you had asked me if the feeling was mutual, I’d lie through my teeth.

I loved him madly.

I don’t exactly know when or how it happened. I do, however, vividly remember when I first realized he held something soft for me.

Siena, Italy | 4:21 am

He was drunk off his ass, his head resting on my shoulder. He had been leaning into my frame for support long before he even needed it. Roman mumbled something about liking me because I was the only “sad sack of shit” in the office who could make him laugh. I asked him why I was a sad sack and not just a regular sack. He blew out a huff of air, causing his lips to trill. The sound was quickly preceded by the flipping of his wrists in a few circles.

“Isn't it obvious?” I nudged my shoulder against his head.

“Because I work for your sorry ass?”

He clumsily tapped the tip of my nose with his right pointer finger, nearly blinded my left eye in the process.

“Bingo, bongo, banjo.” The nonsensical words tumbled out and the rest of his drink tumbled in. “Itstheeyes.” I’d been unable to make out the slurred syllables mumbled just under his breath. For all I knew, they could’ve been Latin for ‘bastard’.

“What?” He dropped his now-empty glass into a historic fountain as we passed. I stopped to try and fish it out, but he dragged me away. I remember wondering if he had made a wish on it in his drunken haze. Rich and careless enough to pretend it was a penny. Maybe that had been why he was so adamant about me not retrieving it. My mind wandered as I pondered what Roman could have possibly wished for. His father's approval? An endless supply of luxurious Korean face creams? A pair of stunning Italian supermodels to lean into instead of me?

Tripping over his own two feet, I instinctively gripped his bicep. Stubborn as ever, he shoved me and muttered something along the lines of 'fuck off'. God forbid he’d take my help. Throwing my hands up, I left him to walk alone a few steps ahead of me. He weaved for a while before slowing his pace until he could lay his head back on my shoulder.

A beat passed, where the only sound was the soft crunch of our shoes against the weathered cobblestone. I caught one of his bleary eyes peeking over at my face. Content with whatever it was he found, he nodded to himself.

“Yep.” He popped his lips on the 'p' and absentmindedly kicked a pebble from our path. “It's the eyes. Sad sack of shit eyes. You've got 'em.” The laugh that had left me seemed much too loud as it ricocheted off every crumbling brick ahead of us. Roman smiled proudly for a moment. “I love your laugh.” The words were said mostly to himself. My cheeks warmed considerably.

“Really? It's obnoxious as all hell.” His brows furrowed, and he shook his head.

“No, it's fuckin’—fuck off. No, it's not.” He kicked another stone. “It's pretty. Pretty like… like your face.” Pretty. “Nothin’ like a hyena.” Hyena? “I think I'm gonna puke.”

He did.

Roman’s Office | 10:47 pm

“Hi.” A small voice lounging across from me pulls my attention. I look up from the computer and rest my head in my hand, my elbow propped on his desk.

“Hi.” I smile softly with a raised brow.“Need somethin’?” The grin that breaks across his features is almost childlike. His big brown eyes could even be mistaken for innocent; I knew better.

“As a matter of fact…” Extremely happy to have garnered my attention, he pulls himself to a sitting position. “Yes!” With a swift motion, he slams his whiskey onto the coffee table. The sharp sound of glass on glass reverberates throughout the room.

“Yes?”

“Yes?” His voice drops into a cartoonish impersonation of my own. His hand was still clasped around his drink for some reason. Flipping his face up to me with a saccharine simper, he adds, “Will you kindly suck my cock?”

“Will you kindly go fuck yourself?” My impression of him was just as cartoonish as his of me. The hand holding my head returns to typing. Groaning loudly, he lets go of his glass to dramatically fall back into the couch.

“Will you? ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ bored!” He drags out his words until they turn to whine. “This is fucking boring. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes, you’re extremely boring.”

“Hurr-hurr.” He mocks while crinkling his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m anything but and am widely known as delightful company.” A snort escapes my nose and Roman smiles.

“Really? I thought you were widely known as a terrible person.” He rolls his eyes as I quote his cousin.

“Yeah, yeah fuck you.” He gives me the finger. I flip him off in return. “The fuck does Nosferatu fuckin’ know anyways?” The nickname makes me chuckle and has Roman mimicking Greg. “Oh, I—I couldn’t help but—couldn’t help but notice that my gargantuan height may be alarm—alarming the schoolchildren. I—is that why Iverson is um c—crying? Or is he like, I—I mean, is he… y—ya know… special?”

The laughter still bubbled up uncontrollably even as I tried maintaining focus on the task at hand. My passive interest towards Roman was annoying him to no end.

“Come on! I want entertainment! Entertain me, woman!” I roll my eyes. A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him. “Come—Come on…” His hands outstretch in my direction, middle and index finger beckoning quickly. “Come show big daddy watcha got.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, my typing stops and I fully turn my attention towards him. His face contorts in a grimace already knowing what was to come. My brows raise as I slowly repeat his words back to him.

“Come show big daddy what I got?” Roman’s hands drag down his face and he groans loudly as soon as big leaves my mouth.

“Oh, fuck y—shut the fuck up.” He sinks lower into the couch with high hopes of it swallowing him whole. The smile that breaks across my features is downright malevolent. I couldn’t recall having ever seen him this embarrassed. Surprising, considering all the lewd shit he spews at me daily. There was something sick inside me that enjoyed it. The urge to play cat rather than mouse overtakes me.

“No, no, no. I just want to understand you clearly, Mr. Roy.” Our dynamic had never been much of a professional one. I couldn’t recall the last time I had addressed him so formally but I wanted to really get under his skin. Oddly enjoying my place in its prickled embrace. Rising from my chair, I place both palms on the desk and lean forward with a pout. “Are you saying you wanna shut me up with your cock, big daddy?”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw! Weawwy, Daddy? Jus' 'cause I won't suwck yo big thick cock?” At that, a cushion flies towards my head. I narrowly catch it as I’m doubling over in laughter. He’s standing now, hands overtly animated.

“I swear to GOD, I’m going to fucking—fuck! Fuck you! Out the window!” He’s angrily pointing towards the giant window panes beside him. “I’m going to throw you out the fucking window!”

“Oh wow, you’re gonna fuck me out the window?” His face was the deepest shade of crimson I had ever seen it.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear to Christ I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” I was doing a piss-poor job at stifling my laughter.

“I just fucking told you. Ass through glass.” He dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“Bullshit.” Finally looking at me, I cross my arms. His eyes flicker to my chest. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Are you saying I don’t have the balls to murder you?” The words come out in a bemused laugh. “I could murder the fuckin’—murder the shit out of you. Easily.”

“Okay.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I feel a dark coil in the back of my mind start to twist. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? You want me to—to what? Throw you through the goddamn window right now?”

I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue. If there was ever a time to find out if my suspicions held true, for some reason, I decided that now was the time. The office was definitely empty at this hour, and the privacy blinds were drawn, so no cameras. Risky as all hell, but if things go south, maybe I could play it off as riffing. I could be quite the convincing liar when I needed to be. My mother saw to that.

“See? I knew it.” With hands on my hips, I tilt my head to size him up. My tone shifts into something silky as sin. “You won’t do shit.” The air begins filling with static causing Roman’s lips to twitch. “You and I both know it. Don’t we…” I slide out from behind the desk, feeling taller as I grow closer. Feeling bolder seeing him swallow. “Romulus?” Using his father’s nickname for him causes his nostrils to flare. A clench in the jaw, a quick exhale. I fucking knew it. “So why don’t you just…” Fully standing in front of him now, I look down with a smirk “sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up for once in your life.”

The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.

The electric silence between us started to prick at my skin. My bottom lip twitches as it fought against every instinct to fill the silence with some form of an apology. To try and turn my sudden shift from dominance back into normalcy. His eyes dart to my mouth immediately; he knows.

“Make me.” His head slowly tilts upwards, as do the corners of his lips. The heat that had been slowly brewing between us for well over a year licks up my thighs. He was sneering up at me as we stood toe to toe. His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam. The look on his face said everything. He saw me, he had me, he called my bluff, he won.

No.

My hand wound itself in the silky hair at the nape of his neck and I use it to jerk his head back. His jaw immediately goes slack. Something akin to a whimper escapes his throat. Surprise has my brows raising and Roman feeling embarrassed. His heavy lids fall and he turns himself away. Reaching up with my free hand, I grip his jaw until he’s facing me once again.

“Look at me.” He does in an instant and I’m flooded by a mixture of emotions. Relief, power, love. I never want to forget how he looks beneath my hands. The way his pupils eclipse the hazel of his eyes. The way his freckles scatter under the pinkish hue of a blush. The way his lips part slightly as his breath shakes out across them. Just as my eyes dance across his every feature, his do mine. Is he etching my features into his own memory?

He attempts to lean forward but I hold him steady. Roman wanted to kiss me but I wanted to tease. I press my lips beside his mouth before trailing them along the smooth path of skin leading to his ear. Sucking his skin into my mouth, I bit gently. A soft sound of content slips from his lips, so I trace up the shell of his ear with my tongue. Upon my return, I bite down once more; harder this time. Just as my teeth release him, the fist tangled in his hair gives a sharp tug. His hum bleeds into a moan that has me squeezing my thighs together. A cool plume of air billows past my lips along the now damp skin; goosebumps erupt immediately. I slide my hand from his jaw until my fingers wrap around his throat to hold him.

“Do you like this, Rome?” The soft whisper has him murmuring his satisfaction. “Come on…” I lightly squeeze his throat. “Be a good boy and use your words.” When I pull away to look at his face, I find his lids are nearly shut.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows in an attempt to steady himself. It doesn’t. “Y-yes, I like it.” He could barely look me in the eyes and it made my stomach flip in the best way possible.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.” The words slip out before I have the chance to stop them. He inhales sharply, and the air seems to rattle through his skull. His eyes quickly leave mine as his face warms considerably. My heart beats as if it were trying to rip itself from my chest and collide with his. The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again. My teeth dig into my cheek until the taste of blood envelops my tongue. I'm raging a war with my own body in silence. This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.

His pulse was racing underneath my thumb. My voice cascades over his flushed skin as I let feather light kisses rain upon him. His first name glides along the tip of his right cheek, his last over the tip of his left. Hovering just out of his reach, I whisper into his open mouth.

“Tell me what you need.” He desperately tries to press his lips into mine but I just pull back. He grunts in frustration.

“Just fuckin’ kiss me already.”

“No.” Releasing my grip, I shove him into the couch. He trips backwards, gracelessly collapsing into the cushions. I climb onto his lap with my knees pressed to either side of his hips. With one hand, I weave my fist around his tie and pull him to me. My other grips his jaw tightly. “You wanna try that again?” His jaw clenches beneath my fingers. His eyes were wild as they flared up at me. Suddenly, his hands lock onto my hips, hard. He pushes his face into my fingers until the tips of our noses bump together.

“I said, just fucking kiss me and I meant do it now.” His words were caught somewhere between a hiss and a growl. He never could handle the word no, so his response shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. The power I’d been holding over him was now leaking through the lace under my skirt. My thighs instinctively flex around him and it has him digging his fingers in harder. A liquid heat spreads through my chest at the thought of later seeing the bruises he was surely leaving behind.

“Well?” My teeth clench and the hand holding his jaw twitches. The attitude lacing his voice drug it’s nails up my spine as I’m reminded of how entitled he could be. He wasn’t supposed to be the one making demands anymore. His smile twitches as a darkness blooms behind his glee. “You wanna hit me don’t you?” My grip loosened; my lungs suddenly feeling like he held them in his fist.

“W-what?” I didn’t want to hit him. Did I? He was selfish, he was arrogant, and he could be so goddamn cruel. Still, the urge to physically harm him was something I had never once encountered. Knowing the history of his childhood and having bared witness to his father’s present day violence against him had made me hyper aware of the constant pain pulsing below his surface. My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.

Oh—he wanted me to hurt him.

His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to. “I-I don’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Again, my teeth clench and my grip retightens on his jaw. His smile grew. Mother fucker knew what he was doing. He was basking in it.

He reaches for my hand wound in his tie, quickly unraveling before bringing it to his throat. His own then slide towards my ass. Gripping tightly, he pushes me down against his length to make sure I felt how badly he wanted this. He throbbed against my center; he wanted it bad. “Listen to me. You’re gonna let go of my jaw and you’re gonna fuckin’ slap me, aright?” I nod and release him. “Fuckin’ hit me.” As I draw back my palm, his tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip.

Slap.

My palm makes contact and brushes across his cheek. It was a sad attempt really. Weak. Even though I knew he wanted it, needed it, something inside held me back.

I was still scared of harming him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Come on!” He roughly digs his fingers into my ass, significantly harder than before. “I said fucking slap me!”

Crack.

I slapped him. Hard. His face jerks to the side. My hand stung as it instinctively goes to cover my mouth in shock of myself. His lips twitch before slowly turning up in a demented grin. A bloom of red seeps out from his bottom lip and his tongue slides across it. With the taste of his own blood, his smile widens. He laughs softly to himself and I slowly lower my hand.

“There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.

I force our mouths apart with a pull of his hair; desperately needing to catch my breath and clear my head. Panting heavily, we stare into the depths of the other in quiet disbelief. This was really happening.

“You sure you want this?” I needed to hear him confirm that he did, in-fact, want to go where we were obviously heading. I knew Roman long enough to know he had serious intimacy issues. Their seeming lack of presence in this moment had me in a whirlwind. He pressed himself into my center once again, his nails bruising crescents into my skin.

“What do you fuckin’ think, dumbass?” I let go of his throat and dig my own nails into his jaw to grip him harshly. He openly smiles with swollen lips.

“Tell me then. Tell me exactly what you want.” His expression falters and his jaw tenses beneath my fingers, eyes flickering from mine.

“You know what I fuckin’ want.” His words seep through gritted teeth. I press my forehead to his. Ever so slowly, I begin rhythmically grinding my hips down upon him. The friction causing his eyes to slip shut. A loud groan escapes from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Roman, I swear to God I’ll stop.” He doesn’t say anything so I still my hips. Umber eyes shoot open and he tries to move me himself. I won’t budge. “I will get up and I will fucking leave you here like this. Pathetic and alone with nothing but your hand.” As the words leave my mouth, so do my hips leave his. His brows snap together and tries in vain to pull me back down again. Still, I don’t budge. “I will walk out this door and you will never fucking see me again. Is that what you want?” The threat was hollow but said with a bite that had shaken me. I was falling into this role a little too easily, a little too well.

He gapes up at me when I completely let go of him. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I attempt to push myself off. It’s him who doesn’t budge this time. He yanks me back down with every ounce of strength his small frame contained. The sudden action has all the air escaping my lungs. With a hand clasped to the back of my neck, he seizes me into a searing kiss.

“Whatever you want.” The words frantically rush into my mouth. “I don’t care.” Fighting against the grip on my neck, he finally gives. I pull back to contemplate his words. Tilting my head slightly, my gaze falls to his tie. An idea begins forming as I slowly untie the silk. My nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt has him intently studying my face. Whatever I want.

Cupping his warm face in one hand, I smear the blood of his bottom lip with my thumb. He parts his mouth and sucks it in. With my other, I reach for Roman’s and slide his own thumb into my waiting mouth. As I swirl my tongue around him, Roman’s eyes darken and he sucks me harder.

Pulling from his lips with a pop, I rub my now wet thumb against his nipple. A soft moan is let loose. My tongue continuously plays with him inside me. He shudders as I pinch the bud beneath my fingers before doing the same to the other. Letting go of his hand, I reach forward to pinch both simultaneously and he groans loudly.

My cheeks hollow around his thumb as he slips it from me. He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.

“Give me your wrists.” The order was partially muffled against his mouth.

“Huh?” The question was mumbled into my lips.

“I said,” Threading my fingers into his own hair, I pull him back. “give me your fucking wrists.” With a dramatic tug, his tie is jerked from underneath his collar in a rush. He sat still, blinking up at me. The walnut shells of his eyes fall into my hands. There was a slight apprehension, a nervousness to them. “Do you trust me, Rome?”

“Y-yeah.” His voice was hushed as he presents his hands to me and I slowly start wrapping the silk around his wrists.

“We can stop at anytime. You know that, right? Just say the word and I’ll stop immediately.” My reassurance seems to irritate more than comfort. He rolls his eyes with a tilt of the head.

“Would you fuck off? I’m fine.” A crease digs itself into the bridge of his nose and my actions immediately still.

“I’m not going to fuck off unless I know that you know that you’re safe with me, okay?” This dominate role was far from the submissive one I was innately familiar with. We obviously had never discussed boundaries and I didn’t know where the lines were anymore. “I need you to know you can speak up. That I’ll stop the second you tell me to.” Roman looks like he’d rather get a root canal than continue this discussion, but I don’t care. This was far too important. “I need you to know that your comfort is important—that your feelings matter.”

“I fucking know it, alright?” He snapped before groaning and throwing his head back. “God, what the fuck else do you need to know before you just shut the fuck up and get on with it already?” My hand quickly finds its way to his throat with a squeeze. He seems more than pleased by this response.

“Do you wanna fucking cum?”

“Clearly I wanna fuckin’—“ My other hand slaps over his mouth and I can feel him smiling underneath my palm. Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.

Roman didn’t want my empathy.

Roman wanted my cruelty.

“Then are you fucking stupid? If you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll make damn sure to have you crying like a little bitch before I even think of letting you cum.” His eyes blackened as he watches my succubuss unhinge her jaw to swallow me whole. “Got it?” He nods quickly. Rapid bursts of air shoot from his nose across the back of my hand. “And lose the fuckin’ attitude.” Removing my hand, I slap him across the mouth; handing myself over to his desires completely.

Having finished binding his wrists and setting them behind his head, I rise from the couch. Standing between his ankles, I unzip my skirt and let it fall to my feet. The muscles in his forearms flex. His tongue peaks between his lips as he gawked at the damp lace between my thighs. Sliding my finger below his chin, I tilt his head until he meets my eyes.

“You know what I want, Roman?” My hand takes home around his throat once again. Now having his full attention, I feel him swallow as he shakes his head. His excitement was palpable. Settling my right knee between his thighs, I nudge it gently against his hard length. His nostrils flare with a sharp inhale. “I want you to watch me get myself off on your thigh.” He groans loudly. I couldn’t tell if it was out of desire, frustration, or a mixture of both but the response delighted me nonetheless. Placing my left knee to the other side of his thigh, I fully seat myself upon him. “Knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“Fuck.” Slowly grinding against the fabric of his thigh, my lashes flutter at the sensation. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. I was dripping wet and could already feel myself swiftly ruining his ostentatiously expensive pants.

“How does it feel Roman? To have me use you like this?“ A whimper meets my ears. His eyes transfixed on my clothed center sliding roughly against his thigh. There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it. “To ruin you like this?” His smokey gaze flickers up to mine and I use the moment to grind myself harder against him. The rough friction elicits another moan from me, louder this time. “This is all you’re good for—” My final word comes out in a whine causing Roman to tear into his bottom lip hard enough to draw more blood. “Tell me. How does it feel?” I nudge my knee into his throbbing member once more and the deepest groan ripples through his teeth. His arms jerk against his binds as I use my free hand to sharply twist his nipple. “Answer me!”

“Good! It feels—Fuck.” The sentiment came out hoarse and husky. He shoves his head back into his tied wrists, thrusting himself against my knee. “Feels so f-fuckin’ good.” Digging my thumb into his pulse point, I slide my knee back. He whines; all hopes of friction dashing in an instant.

“No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” He’s a whimpering mess beneath me; eyes wide and watery. I wanted to drown myself in the sight and never touch the light of day again.

My thong bunches to the side from the aggression in my movements. Now fully bare against him, a shiver rushes through me as my clit kisses the luxurious fabric of his thigh. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“If you don’t fucking behave I swear to God I’ll leave you like this—tied up and soaking for whoever to find.” The bite in my threats were losing their edge. My voice lost somewhere between a moan and sigh. An impending orgasm flicks it’s tongue at the base of my spine.

“Wouldn’t want it to be your father who finds you like this, would you?” A mangled whine shakes itself from his throat and has me smiling.

The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper. The taste causes a sigh to slip from my mouth into his.

“You’re close. I-I can feel it.” His voice tight and high-pitched as he starts to slightly bounce his leg. “You’ve f-fucking drenched me.” The jolting of his thigh into my clit has my head falling into his shoulder; grinding harder and faster against him. The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip. I was at the brink. “I-I wanna feel you cum.” He’s whining as he starts to bounce his leg faster; face buried in my hair. His shaking breath against my cheek has my entire body erupting in goosebumps. “P-please lemme f-feel you cum.” His beg hitches to an even higher pitch. His thigh nearly vibrating under me, desperate pleas rippling through me. Every nerve ending in my body felt ablaze.

It was all too much.

A scream rips from my lungs and I sink my teeth into the flesh of Roman’s shoulder. He tasted of salt and brimstone. My nails frenetically scratch into his skin as my thighs tremble and squeeze. Groans barrel up from his chest to mingle with my own. My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.

The heaving of our chests pressed tightly together slowly lulls me back down again. My fingertips absentmindedly painting shapes into his skin with the blood I’d drawn from his waist. Sparkles of light and voids of soot twirl across my vision. An indention of my teeth remained etched into his shoulder. He shudders when I press a soft kiss onto the bruised skin. My head falling heavy when it replaces my mouth to lean into him.

I’m suddenly reminded of Roman’s own much needed release upon finding his hips desperately grinding circles into empty air. He’s whimpering; body begging. My hand still cradled his throat so I languidly brush my thumb along his pulse point. His heart was racing.

“Do you need to cum, Roman?” A loud, high-pitched whine answers me.

“Please.” The word comes out in a choked sob. “I need—“ He was fighting against his binds, the silk digging painfully into his wrists. “Please.” He frantically presses open mouth kisses into any inch of my skin that he could reach; pleading with glassy eyes. “Please lemme cum.” I leave his throat to gently cup his cheek and smile softly before pulling back from him. “No—“ He stops himself when I thread one hand into his hair and place the other bloodied one atop his chest.

“You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?”

“Yes.” The answer comes out in a quiet quick rush of air. “Y-yeah, I am.” My hand finally reaches his pulsing length and it twitches beneath my fingers. He immediately ruts against my palm and I squeeze him before jerking his head back.

“Stop.” He clenches his teeth but surprisingly does. Tensing beneath me, using every ounce of self control to still himself. He was trembling beneath my grasp. Frustrated tears caressed his lashes and began streaming down his flushed cheeks. His breath was coming out hard and shallow through flared nostrils.

A memory flashes through my mind: Roman’s captivated stare watching his glistening thumb press into my bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” Again, he follows my orders instantly. Hovering my face above his, my lips purse with a drop of spit. He catches it with a moan that I immediately kiss into my mouth. “Cum.” My voice drops just above a whisper against his raw lips. “Make a mess of yourself.”

He instantly begins fucking himself roughly into my grip. The heat of his flesh searing me through the fabric. Grunting into my open mouth as I tug his hair into the cushions just below his wrists. His hands opening and closing before locking into tight fists. “Look at me.” His eyes shoot open. “Such a good boy for me.” A familiar emotion swirls through the sliver of hazel around his pupils. His lids flutter as he fought with everything in him to keep himself rooted in my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Roman.”

His hips shoot from the couch as he explodes and spreads me open across his thigh. The sensation causes my breath to catch in my throat. A gravely yell rips from the deepest parts of himself and tears apart every muscle in my body. He pours everything he has into the fabric beneath my hand with wide eyes never leaving mine. He collapses hard with shuttering breaths; body limp and twitching.

I release him to bring my palm to my lips; the slightest bit damp from him. My tongue paints his taste into my memory with pupils blown. Jaw slack, he watches intently through heavy wet lashes. His muddy eyes fill with that same emotion I had seen from him earlier.

“Lemme taste you.” The request was nearly silent but it rattled me like a wail. If I was any further from him I wouldn’t have heard it, but I did and couldn’t believe he had asked. Lifting my hips slightly, I run two fingers through my sensitive folds and shiver. He immediately takes notice and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

My fingers tremble as they rise towards his mouth. He inhales deeply before parting his lips for me. Slipping into the velvet of his mouth, his eyes flutter shut. His pointed tongue runs up between their gaps before flattening to drag back down. He was savoring every drop as if he were a starved man lost at sea. An involuntary hum reverberates from his throat into my skin and his cheeks seem to darken even more. He playfully bites down with sparkling eyes when I slip my fingers from his warm mouth.

The sight had the blood pounding in my ears beginning their familiar chant: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ It overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help but pull him into one last searing kiss. Tasting myself on his tongue had my head spinning. Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth. Cupping his cheeks in both hands, my thumbs brush away the damp paths left by his previous tears. His forehead suddenly creases beneath mine.

“You okay, Rome?” He shakes my hands from his face and turns away from me. My own brows knot together in worry.

“I’m fine.” His face further contorts upon hearing how his voice cracked. It might as well have cracked my ribs right along with it. He clenches his jaw before gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His hands form into tight fist behind his head. He was trying not to cry again.

My fingers twitch in my lap and it takes everything in me not to wrap him in my arms. Instead, I reach for his wrists and bring them forward. They felt heavy and limp in my hands. Right as I began my attempt at untying them, a small sniffle brings my attention back to Roman’s face.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know?” I try to gently reassure him but it only deepens the tortured disgust in his features.

“I said I’m fucking fine.” The words are spit with a venom that eats through to my bones. Feeling me search his feature has him crumbling before me. Fresh tears immediately start spilling down his cheeks and into the pits of my soul. I couldn’t help but reach for him. He surprisingly lets me cup his cheek, so I gently turn him to face me. His eyes squeeze tighter below my lips as I lightly kiss their corners. The small gesture of affection has a mangled sob ripping from his chest. Fully burying his face into my hand, he lets himself weep into my palm.

Brushing back the strands of hair sticking to his sweat, I feel my own eyes filling with tears. Refusing to let myself cry, I leave his hair to clumsily attempt untying his wrists with one hand but the knot had grown significantly tighter. No doubt from Roman constantly pulling against it all this time.

“Hey, Rome?” He responds with a mangled sound in the back of his throat. A desperate need to comfort and free him started anxiously clawing at my throat. “Listen, I know you’re totally fine and everything but I’m actually not.” His watery eyes glance to me, not registering that I’m joking. “The she demon that possessed me, she—the bitch was a Girl Scout from hell. This knot’s tighter than a goddamn hangman’s noose.” Roman pulls his face from my hand while rapidly blinking. The sounds of grinding metal fill my ears and their smokey scent tickles my nose. I flash him a goofy, albeit nervous, smile and the gears inside his head finally click into place.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” There was no bite to his words, having spoke them through a bemused chuckle. He wipes his nose with back of his hand and inhales the remnants of his vulnerability. Grateful relief balms the scrapes at my neck left by worry’s desperate claws.

His smile falters when I suddenly get up and leave him; it's as if a burst of panic fills his chest. However, when he watches me pick up a pair of scissors and the joggers from his gym bag, I sense the tension in him ease slightly. It's only when I climb back atop his thigh that he appears fully relieved. The weight of my warmth sinking into him seems to ground him.

After tossing his change of pants onto the cushion beside us, I carefully slide the blade under his tie and free him. The silk had dug in painfully, leaving nearly raw indentions in it’s wake. I mentally make a note to check my purse for some soothing lotion later as my fingers lightly brush across his skin. My thumbs begin rubbing into the muscles of his forearms. Roman was studying my face intently.

“These feel okay?” Shaking out his wrists, he rotates them a few times before letting them fall limp in my lap. It was his way of silently asking me to continue with my actions. He had far too much pride to express his desire for such a tender expression.

“Feels fine.” He fights off a shy smile when my hands pick up where they left off, massaging him gently. “My side on the other hand feels like fuckin’ cruise papers with the way ya shredded me.” He chuckles but I could still hear the residual emotion behind it. I lift the corner of his shirt up to take a look. The sight has my stomach instantly dropping; tangled weeds of angry wounds imbedded deep into flesh. Needles of red hot guilt begin sewing threads of shame up my legs. Looking down, I’m greeted with his blood caked under my nails. Memories of violence and words of degradation take ownership of my lungs.

“Fuck Rome…” My voice cracks and I suddenly feel my own tears holding a knife to my throat. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Roman quickly tears the fabric from my grasp and yanks it down.

“Oh shit. No no no no no—fuck fuck fuck.” His panicked expression made me feel so much worse. The canines of an anxiety attack drag up the nape of my neck like a threat. “I—I was fucking kidding!”

“I shouldn’t have d—done that to you. I—I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t—Rome, I didn’t mean them! The words—I—I’m so sor—“

“Oh dear God, would you fuckin’ stop.” He quickly cut me off but I had already dove to the deep end of a molten lava shame spiral.

“I—I made you fucking bleed Roman!” He rolls his eyes. “Multiple times!” His hands slap themselves onto the sides of my face, pressing hard into my cheeks.

“Yeah and you licked it up and it was the sexiest fuckin’—” I couldn’t open my eyes to look at him. If I looked at him I’d most certainly start crying. “I mean, I’m literally fucking drenched in cum right now.” My mouth was set in a hard line but my bottom lip quivered. “Come on now…” Nope, didn’t have to look at him. Turns out his voice alone could send tears falling. “I was kidding! I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” His fingers press into my skin harder as if he could force his sentiments to penetrate my skull. “I…I fuckin’ loved it. Like a lot. Okay?” My head was shaking back and forth trying to gain some control over my emotions, shake free of my tears. Roman didn’t know that though. How could he? I wasn’t speaking. He probably thought my actions were just my way of rejecting him. “Please don’t fuckin’ do this.”

My eyes crack open as I remove Roman’s hands from my face. The knotted look of bewilderment etched into his features summons the childhood phantom of my mother. Taking her disembodied palm to slap me across the mouth and rattle me with shrill screams: ‘You need to pull yourself the fuck together!’ I follow suit, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.

“Promise?” My question came out pathetic and small. I fucking hated it and I fucking hated crying. I’m being fucking ridiculous. Stupid.

“Again, and I can’t stress this enough, soaking in my own cum right now.” His reassurance comes with a laugh that tugs my frown up slightly.

“I just—I’m sorry. It was one thing in the moment but just like… I dunno. I’ve never done anything like that. I—I don’t know what came over me.” My face felt feverish as the backs of my hands wipe the shame staining my cheeks. “Seeing the aftermath just kinda, it just—The thought of actually hurting you makes me feel fucking sick, Rome.” I feel the back of Roman’s knuckle brush away the tears I had missed. Chancing a look at his face gifted me the softest expression I had ever seen from him. “I never want to cause you any real harm.” My voice sounded almost foreign, weak with emotion and vulnerability. Where did all my bravado go? Oh yeah, it’s dripping down my thighs.

“Well you didn’t, alright? I’m fine. Like completely. A-o-fuckin’-kay over here.” He throws me the okay symbol and tries offering me a reassuring smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But you were crying, Rome.” The smile instantly drops.

“That? No, I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head before scratching at his jaw. “It—it wasn’t because of that.” My brows furrow, and he groans, hands dragging down his face. “Look, I didn’t—I don’t—fuck!” He shakes his fingers through his hair and looks as if he’s about to rip it out. Refusing to meet my eyes, his stare finally settles on my hands lying face up in my lap. “It was your fuckin’—your hands, okay? It was your fuckin’ hands.” My eyes fall from his face and focus on the blood staining my fingertips. So it really was because I hit him. “The way you—“ He sighs. “The way you held me.” Oh. His head falls back as a long frustrated groan escapes him, eyes searching for heaven in the ceiling. “I dunno, okay? It just felt—it felt—“ He couldn’t finish. His eyes fall shut before he continues, his voice even quieter than before. “All I could think about was how you had looked at me.” I swallow before whispering just as quietly as he.

“How did I look at you?”

“I don’t know.” His voice grew thick with emotion once again. He shakes his head and finally meets my eyes; looking so defeated and sad. His pain bled me. “You’re always fuckin’ lookin’ at me like—like—“ Again, he can’t finish. He clenches his jaw like a threat towards the words caught in his throat.

“Like I love you?” His eyes squeeze shut and he turns his face from me once again; hiding himself from my words. I watch him clench and unclench his jaw until courage clenches my own. “Because I do love you, Roman.” Every muscle in his body seemed to tense beneath me, but I couldn’t stop my feelings from shattering their shackles. They’d been locked up for so long that their first taste of freedom sends them sprinting. “I love you so fucking much.” He clenches his fists, still unable to open his eyes and look at me.

I let myself lean into him and lay my head onto his shoulder. His fist start to unfurl and he lets his head fall against mine. A shuddering breath leaves him and he buries his face into my hair, hands tentatively resting on my hips. We sit in silence as I listen to his breathing slowly steadying. Once it had nearly returned to normal, I feel his lips gently press into my temple.

“I love you too.” The words were murmured into me, a heavy sigh follows after them. “You have no fucking idea.” The wilted buds of my heart and mind begin to bloom. My arms wrap themselves around him and squeeze him to me tightly. He reluctantly wraps his arms around me as well; slowly tightening his embrace until he’s clinging to my soul. Turning my head I press a kiss into the side of his throat and hear him sigh once again; the weight between us was dissipating.

“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.” The words he had stuttered out when trying to calm me drift to the forefront of my mind. “I—I liked it too.” The warmth of his skin embraces my shy confession. “What we did together, I mean.” I hear him snort and it has me smiling against him. The air was feeling lighter.

“I’d fuckin’ say so, ya fuckin’ banshee. You shoulda seen how fuckin’ hard you came. I mean—Jesus Christ, you were fuckin’ feral.” I hide my face further into his neck but can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from me. “And now you act all fuckin’ bashful and shit? How the fuck does that even work? You literally tied me up and road my thigh like a buckin’ bronco.” I bite his throat and my body shakes from his laughter vibrating through me.

“Fuck you! I’m complex.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He tangles his hands in my hair and pulls me back to face him. “You’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” He was smiling as he said it. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“The feelings mutual.” His smile only widens and he bounces his leg. I yelp in surprise, frantically gripping at his arms to maintain balance. He’s giggling uncontrollably. “You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy.”

“Ooo round two already, thigh master?” He bounces his leg again. I try to slap his chest but he catches my wrist with his freehand and pulls me into a kiss I’m never going to forget. It was different than all the ones we had shared prior. This one was so much softer, so much gentler. Our foreheads rest against one another. His smile against my lips illuminates every crevice once void of light; I was loved.

#this used to be 10k words lol #I’ve rewritten it soooo many times #Roman Roy #Succession #Succession HBO #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader #roman roy one shot #roman roy fanfic #roman roy imagine #succession smut #succession fanfic #succession imagine #succession one shot #mine #can’t believe I’m following up kittens & perverts w/ this filth lmao #it still doesn’t feel perfect but she’s about to confiscate the phone from me if I keep rewriting this lol #cruelty & empathy