#anyways. it all comes to an end tonight and i am terrified. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunonyoreface · 1 year

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One Cot - Simon “Ghost” Riley

Hi there, this story is a one shot about Simon Riley. I haven’t played COD before and I don’t know much about his character, but I love the thought of tough men being soft.

Summary: You help Ghost on a cold night and he returns the favour.

Word count: 2398

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: none, fluff.

Crews like task force 141 aren’t the type to pack extra cots. They don’t need them. Because crews like 141 don’t make a habit of bringing home extra bodies. There’s only ever one scenario when they have extra cots. Luckily for them, tonight’s not one of those nights.

For me, however, that means another night on the floor with my ankle cuffed to the bottom of one of their cots in case I try to run.

Although I’m deemed non-violent, I’m also a flight risk. According to them at least.

According to me, I have no clue where we are or how I’d even survive away from them. I’ve got no money, no ID, no map or compass, or even the slightest clue how I’d escape. Regardless, the cuffs stay on.

My wrists face the same fate. But my hands are free enough to rake them through my damp hair, working them through the tangles. It’s a soothing feeling of normalcy in this strange place.

In his cot on the other side of the room, Soap waits for one of the other boys to return from the showers and trade off babysitting duty.

One thing I can say is that chivalry is not dead, because they allowed me to shower first. Not that it matters all that much. There’s no hot water anyway so there isn’t much of a benefit in going first. But it’s the thought that counts.

Ghost is the first one back. It’s strange not seeing him wear layers upon layers of tactical gear. Instead, he only wears dark jeans and a black henley. And the balaclava too. I’ve yet to see him take it off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he showered with it on. I don’t know that the other guys have seen him take it off either. They make comments sometimes, little jabs and jokes about how it never comes off. Ghost hardly notices though. Or maybe I should say hardly reacts. He’s stoic through it all, preventing any emotions from breaking through.

Soap leaves without a word. They understand their positions. So well, that half the time I think they’re communicating through their thoughts.

Ghost places a duffel bag on the cot I’m cuffed to. I sit cross-legged on a blanket on the floor as he ruffles through it.

His strong form towers over me two feet away. Ghost doesn’t make eye contact as I watch him search through the bag. He’s less threatening without the bulky gear and a gun in his hand. But that mask is still terrifying enough to find its way into your dreams.

However, it's not the mask that sets me on edge around Ghost, it’s his eyes. They’re cold and unwavering, giving away nothing. They’re the eyes of a killer. Of someone who enjoys inflicting pain. Of someone whose been in so much pain himself, his only release is passing it on to others.

He hasn’t bothered me that much since my first day with them all. Back when he was ready to put me down like a lame horse. I was a loose end that needed to be tied up. Still am, if I’m being honest. Price stopped him, but if it was up to Ghost, I’d have been dead for days now. Even now, I’m sure part of him wants to kill me knowing it’s the more logical option. But until then, he’s under orders to keep me alive.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a staring problem?” His rough voice breaks the silence. He rarely acknowledges me so for him to speak up must mean I’ve struck a nerve. My mouth suddenly feels dry.

“Just you,” I say. “Sorry.”

But I don’t look away. I continue to watch him search through the bag. I don’t know what he’s looking for but he can’t seem to find it. The tight sleeves of the Henley hug his strong arms. Even through the fabric, I can see the defined lines of his muscles. His posture is nearly perfect and his movements could almost be considered robotic.

“What’re you looking for?” He doesn’t seem like the type of person to misplace his things.

“Nothing,” he responds bluntly.

“Maybe it fell behind the cot. I can check for you?” I offer.

“Negative.”

“Are you sure beca-“

“Stop talking, y/n,” he snaps. I flinch at his response. As he says this he finally makes eye contact with me and I regret ever looking at him. There’s an anger in his eyes that no man I’ve ever met has been able to match. A deep-rooted hatred for the world and all of its inhabitants. It’s not a look that you’re born with. It’s one that’s carved from years of pain and betrayal. He’s witnessed the type of things that would break most people. The intensity of his gaze is too much. I break eye contact to stare at the floor.

Fine. I won’t try to help.

I lean against the cement wall and try to think about anything else. I press my hands to the inside of my thighs in an attempt to warm them up.

When they found me I was only in ripped shorts and a ratty tank top with nothing else to my name.

Since then some of the men spared me a set of long johns, a long sleeve shirt, and a pair of thick socks. I’m not allowed shoes in case I try and take off. It’s better than what I had but the warehouse is cold and the cement floor seems to suck out any heat my body produces.

Ghost angrily zips up the duffel bag and tosses it on the floor at the other end of the cot. I watch the bag skid for a foot before finally coming to a stop.

He climbs onto the cot with a dissatisfied grunt. Ghost sleeps with his head on the far side of the cot and his feet at the end I’m cuffed to. He doesn’t take his shoes off. None of them do. In fact, I’m surprised he isn’t sleeping with more gear on. Some days they’ll all sleep in their tactical gear as if they’re waiting to be attacked. Part of me is relieved they don’t feel as though that’s a threat tonight.

I can hear voices echo down the halls. Some of the others must be done in the showers.

I lie down on my makeshift bed: a pillow and a blanket that I fold in half to act as a mattress and duvet.

When I lie down, however, something shiny catches my eye under Ghost’s cot.

It’s a tiny chain. A necklace.

On my hands and knees, I crawl under his cot to grab the necklace.

“What’re you doing?” Ghost mumbles above me. I hear him shift his weight against the rough canvas fabric.

When I back out from under the cot, he’s sitting with his legs off the edge. Suspiciously eyeing my movements. His right hand is in one of his pant pockets probably wrapped around a knife in case I try something.

I kneel in front of the bed beside his legs. My damp hair clings to my neck and the tip of my nose is red and cold.

I raise the chain up to Ghost. His eyes latch on immediately.

“Is this it?” I ask. He eyes me suspiciously. I see him searching for any signs of deceit. Maybe I lied to him and hid the chain from him. Maybe I pickpocketed him before he went to shower. But I didn’t do any of those things. I hold his eye contact this time. His brows soften ever so slightly. It seems to be enough.

Ghost doesn’t say anything. Instead, he simply grabs the chain from my hand. His fingers brush against my palm as he scoops it up. He examines it a moment before slipping it over his neck and tucking it under his shirt.

I don’t know why but I was hoping for a thank you. Or at least an acknowledgment that I’d helped. But Ghost remains silent. At the same time, the voices reach the room. Roach and Gaz round the corner from the hallway.

At their entrance, I turn back to my makeshift bed and pretend to sleep. It’s not that I don’t like them - although I don’t, in fact, I don’t like any of them - but I don’t have the energy for more questions from them tonight.

I hear Ghost shift in his cot and it seems our thoughts are on the same track.

As hard as I try, sleep doesn’t come. They shut off the main lights over an hour ago, yet I still haven’t calmed down enough to drift off. It doesn’t help that I can’t stop shivering from the cold.

The warehouse remains utterly silent except for the light snores and breathing of the men. Only the emergency lights fill the corners of the room with dim, orange light. They’re almost comforting in a way.

I pull the single blanket tighter around my shoulders and ball up even smaller if that’s possible, but nothing helps. My bones shake and my teeth rattle. If only I had another blanket.

The cot next to me creaks as Ghost shifts in his sleep. It creaks some more and then I notice he’s sitting up.

Ghost spares a glance in my direction as he rummages through his pocket for something.

Something silver glints in the light and I realize it’s a key. He wordlessly tosses it in my direction and by some stroke of luck, I catch it mid-air.

It’s the key to the cuffs. I spare an uneasy glance in his direction. He wants me to uncuff myself?

Ghost doesn’t react. Instead, he watches as I process my thoughts, as I push through my weariness and unlock my ankles first before freeing my wrists.

I reach to pass the key back to him but instead of grabbing the key, his large hand wraps completely around my wrist and tugs me in close.

I’m face to face with him as his other hand wraps around my jaw so I can’t pull away.

“If you try to run, I’ll kill you,” his low voice is barely above a whisper. The edge to his tone makes the threat feel all the more real.

“Okay,” I nod in response. My heart is racing and I feel the blood rush to my cheeks.

“Come here. Bring your blanket,” he motions to the cot. I spare a glance at the narrow bed. Surely he doesn’t want to share it with me? There’s barely enough room for one person let alone two.

“I don’t know,” I whisper back as though it’s an option. I don’t know where he’s going with this suggestion and I don’t think I trust him.

“That’s an order, y/n,” his response does nothing to ease my soul, but I grab my blanket anyway and crawl onto the cot.

It’s now he notices my hesitancy. How I purposely leave space between us on the bed. That I’m unsure of why he wants me up here. The fogginess of his intentions.

“I can't sleep with the sound of your teeth rattling in my ears all night,” nothing changes in my expression so he tries again, his tone softer this time. “You’re safe, y/n. I’m safe. Nothing’s going to happen.”

I sigh in relief but don’t say anything in response. He knows.

“C’mere,” he lifts the blanket for me to slide in. The warmth immediately welcomes me into the space.

The cot is more narrow than a twin mattress and leaves little to no wiggle room for two people. I’m pressed tightly into Ghost's chest as his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer and preventing me from falling off.

I thought I’d be tense but the heat under the blankets completely relaxes me. I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. His balaclava is soft against my cheek. I hear his breathing pick start to pick up. I can feel his chest expand deeper than before.

“Thank you,” my voice is barely audible, but I know he heard.

As I adjust to our proximity, I breathe in the scents that linger on his skin and in his clothes. I can smell the same standard citrusy shampoo on him as myself and the rest of the crew use. But there’s also a remainder of smoke and gunpowder from the day’s work. There’s something else more unique to him and yet I can’t put my finger on it. I take a deep breath and allow myself to revel in the calming smells. This shouldn’t be comforting and yet it is.

Nothing about this situation should be comforting and yet I feel safer than I have in weeks.

Wrapped in Ghost's arms, I know nothing else in the world can get to me. My only danger is the man who holds me. Yet I know in this instance after he’s sacrificed his space and his bed for me, that I’ve got nothing to worry about.

Ghost shifts against the canvas again. This time pulling me on top of him as he spreads out across his cot. He wraps his arms around my back he readjusts for the final time. I feel so small on top of him. Ghost spreads a hand out across my lower back and it feels as though it takes up the entire width of the space. His thumb soothingly brushes back and forth along the arch of my spine.

I lay my head on his chest and listen to the thrum of his heart. It beats strong and steady like a bass drum. I feel myself relaxing even more as my breathing starts to match his. I feel myself start to drift as my head lulls with his chest when it rises and falls.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t worry about what tomorrow brings. I’m so content in his arms that I don’t think about what’s next. All that fills my mind is the strength of his heartbeat and the distant scent of gunpowder. The last thing I think about before finally nodding off is the feeling of his thumb brushing up and down along my back, letting me know everything is going to be alright.

Edit+A/N: I have never received this much attention on a story before so thank you!! When I have time should I write more for Ghost?

Fic based on this concept:

12K notes · View notes

kissitbttr · 2 months

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your mafia!toji fic got me thinking so hard abt him😭😭 he’s deffo the type to just buy you sm stuff as an apology but when you don’t forgive him and sleep in a different bedroom mf will come into the room on his knees and beg for you to come to sleep 😩😩 imagine still saying no and him just flipping you onto his shoulders and carrying you to bed 🤭

oh you are absolutely correct!

“darling” toji softly calls you, letting out a tired sigh. “i said i was sorry. what am i supposed to do?”

“die” she replies nonchalantly, shoulders shrugging before grabbing a pillow and your favorite blanket off the bed,

he snickers, looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “now, now that would be over dramatic don’t you think? won’t you miss me?”

he almost pisses his pants when she throws him a glare,

“okay. no jokes. got it” he put his hands up in surrender, feeling absolutely terrified at his baby being mad and speaking less than two words to him,

if anyone ever finds out that the most feared and notorious man in the city being tamed by his woman, he would never hear the end of it,

but she is scary. can you blame him?

toji looks over at the designer shoes and bags he just purchased a few hours ago, tucked neatly in the corner. untouched by her.

guess the apology gifts aren’t working,

“i didn’t know that she was coming, i haven’t even talked to her in years! never planned to anyway, you know i only got my eyes for my girl, right?”

she tries so hard not to roll her eyes,

toji had a meeting with one of the cartels at the club earlier that night. and of course, she always goes. it’s where he can always keep an eye on her and refuses to leave her at home all alone because he can’t risk that. also, because she’s his good luck charm. whenever she’s around, deals always goes well,

tonight was an exception though,

all was well until a certain person decided to crash. his old fling. one before he met his precious girlfriend. the red haired thought that it would be fun to press her fake ass tits against toji,

y/n was shocked to say at least. she didn’t say anything but her face spoke thousand words. toji could see that. throwing daggers at the bitch, corner of her lips quirk into a form of disgust.

and the worst part was? toji didn’t do anything about it! can you believe that asshole?!

something about being absolutely unprofessional if he was ever to push her off and it ticked y/n to the fucking bone so she decided to ignore him the rest of the night,

toji feels defeated when she chooses not to respond, simply just taking her stuff. he crouches lightly to look at her pretty face clearly. “baby… can you please look at me? I can’t stand seeing you mad. i’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you”

if it was any circumstances, sure she would melt and jump in his arms. but tonight is different. how could he?

she looks up at him and whisper “fuck. you” before turning around angrily and walk out of the door to go sleep on the guest room,

toji groans, the heel of his palms pressing against his eyes. she has always been so stubborn. too fucking stubborn. exactly why he had to get rejected seven times before she accepted his date.

what? he needed to get humbled, so she gave him that.

he contemplate for a while whether or not he should let her be or not. then he chooses the latter. it would probably be best if he let her cool off some steam for a while, he doesn’t want to do any more damage or make her feel more annoyed by his presence,

bet. not even ten minutes later, he feels like losing his mind without her here.

“fuck this shit” he mutters, getting up from the bed. rubbing his face furiously before stomping towards the other side of the room,

he walks in without knocking, ready to say what he needs to say again. yet he stops. heart clenching at the sight of his girl curled up in bed, back facing him.

“love?” he slowly walks over to her laying figure,

“go away” she speaks. now in a softer tone

“please” he begs, walking around the bed and catching a glimpse of her playing with her pink manicured hands. “sweetheart. I’m sorry” he repeats, going down to her eye level before letting his hand moves to rest on her bare thigh. he’s internally relieved when she doesn’t push him off,

he sighs when she’s not looking at him, seemingly only focused on the nails that she had gotten done a week ago.

“i should’ve pushed her off. shouldn’t let her touch me like that. hell, i shouldn’t even let her breathe near me. i know that” he realizes his mistake. “i didn’t even think about what my girl needed. i was being a horrible boyfriend”

no answer,

he sighs again, refusing to look away from her pretty eyes,

“baby—“

“i heard you the first time. leave. and close the door”

toji is taken aback. fuck. she really is mad at him.

“you don’t mean that”

“uhm, yes i do” she retorts in an obvious tone, sassily raising her eyebrow before scooting a bit further from him. she doesn’t realize this but it makes his heart break,

“princess, i swear-“

“go call that girl back to keep you company. let that fucking bitch sleep by your side” she mutters, looking at the tv instead of him,

he can’t take this anymore,

“you know what? that’s it” toji had enough, he will not be sleeping alone and neither will she. standing up on his feet, his hands reach out to circle around her ankles before tugging her body towards him causing her to yelp,

“toji! what the fuck are you doing-oh!” her voice gets cut off the moment he pulls her body up like she weighs nothing. throwing her over his shoulder. “put me down!” her fists start to hitting his back—as if they’re actually hurting him— legs swinging back and forth

“nope” he answers, keeping a firm grip around her waist before swatting her ass, locking the guest room behind him and walking back to their shared one. “you’re driving me crazy, woman—not saying that i hate it, but i’m pretty fucking beat tonight and we are going to sleep together. so stop fighting me”

she huffs, admitting defeat and letting him carry to the bed. “fuck you, toji”

he smirks at that. “oh i will, baby”

#mafia!toji #toji x reader

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artists-ally · 6 months

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Can you please write some more Azriel smut with his mate thank you !!!

{Bow} Azriel X Reader

Oh babes, you ask and you shall receive. Y'all went fucking BANANAS with my last Az smut, so here ya go you filthy sluts (i'm the filthiest slut there is i write this shit) Also you cannot convince me that Az isn't a dom. Enjoy!! Title from this song

Word Count: 2,869

Warnings: smut, spanking, spitting, choking, praise kink, breeding kink, possessive behavior, bondage, dom/sub vibes

Tagging: @librafairy @needylilgal022

Summary: Azriel goes a little feral after the mating bond snaps into place.

I knew it was going to happen. I could feel it coming. Just one of those once-in-a-lifetime feelings when you just know something is going to happen. There wasn’t anything I could do to warn Az since he was on the other end of the continent in Illyria.

But my bones buzzed when he told me he was coming home. It was just a caress down the bond, a flicker of his shadow around my hand to let me know, but it was intense. I didn’t know if he knew or not, but I certainly did.

“Okay, why are you pacing around?” Mor snapped me out of my thoughts.

“I think it’s going to happen. Like today,” I said through a hurried breath. Mor squealed and I flinched, the sound doing nothing to help the vein pulsing in my head.

“Oh my gods oh my gods I cannot believe it!” She jumped up and down. “Finally.”

“Hey,” I frowned slightly. “It’s not our fault. And we both agreed we’d wait until it felt right to pursue it. Who knew it would take two and a half years.”

“Can I say how proud of you I am for waiting? I could never be that patient,” Mor grabbed me by my shoulders. “I am so happy for you, Yn. No one in Prythian deserves this more than you two.” “Thanks,” I smiled sweetly, taking her hands in mine. I inhaled sharply and let it out. “What do I do?”

“You need to make him something to eat,” Mor hurried out, dragging me out of the living room of the Townhouse and into the kitchen. “What’s his favorite thing to eat?”

I thought for a moment, stuffing down the urge to say me and trying to think of a legit response. “He has always loved those pork dumplings I made for Solstice one year.”

“Perfect,” Mor ran around and grabbed the ingredients I listed off. “Let's make this the most memorable meal of his life!”

For about an hour I kneaded and folded the little dumplings into half circles, filling them with pork and vegetables before sealing them and dropping them in a pan. I was filled with so much excitement that the normally terrifying process of splattering oil didn't faze me. It was so hard to think about anything other than Azriel and what we’d do later tonight. Hopefully, anyway.

I remember what Feyre told me about her and Rhys. What Cassian said about him and Nesta. That it had been a fury of teeth and tongues and touches. That there wasn’t any time to be wasted. The want. The primal need for each other and how brutal it was. But how satisfying and soul-bonding it was.

Quite literally.

I finished the last of them up, plating the others for when he got home. He was getting closer; the shadow he always left me with was writhing between my fingers, circling around my wrist.

“Okay, I will make sure everything is tidy and then I’m gone. And I will make sure no one comes within a three mile radius of this place for the next week. Or until you send word Azriel isn’t going to rip someone's head off.”

I rolled my eyes, “We’ll be fine. He’s almost here so get out.” “Good luck,” she winked, disappearing behind the corner. The front door opened and closed and I watched her winnow away.

Why am I so nervous? It isn’t like it’s our first date all over again. He has seen the most intimate parts of my body, the most intricate parts of my mind and yet I was shivering with anticipation. Not nerves– excitement.

I can hear the mighty beat of his wings as he approaches, and I see him land in the back garden, pushing his wind-blown hair off his forehead. My heart is at a furious pace. Gods he looks… it’s like I’m seeing him all over again. For the first time. All those thoughts and feelings rushing into me.

There isn’t a fucking doubt in my mind that this is going to happen.

Azriel draws open the back door and turns his head to the left, then to the right to find me motionless in the kitchen. “Yn…”

He says my name in the same breathless way he has since he learned what it was years ago. Our eyes lock and he shuts the door behind him. Azriel doesn’t waste a single second, scooping me up and drawing me in tight against his chest. He smells of the slight salt and lemon of the Sidra, but deep down his natural, rugged scent washes over me.

“I have to stop taking such long trips to the Camp,” Azriel grumbles a laugh, pressing his lips to the top of my head. He takes a deep breath, then releases it. When I don’t respond– or chuckle alongside him– he draws back. “Yn?”

All I can do is look at him. His eyes are impossibly green at this moment. All the flecks of gold and amber igniting them. My chest is tight and the edges of my control are slipping.

He furrows his brows, “Is everything…” And the words die on his tongue.

It’s like Prythian tilts and slides into the sea. Down down down we go with it. I might’ve actually gasped with the crack that formed in my chest, breath still in my throat.

It’s not the shimmering gold or tether of silver Feyre and Nesta had described. It is an inky black tendril of shadow that I can see, that I can feel, as clear as day. And right there, tied to the other end, is Azriel. Mate mate mate is the only hum I feel besides the roar of hope. Of promise. Of forever.

Azriel shudders a breath, staggering a step back, eyes blinking as rapidly as his chest moves. His hands are digging into the sides of my arms. “Y-Yn-”

“I feel it,” I finished his unasked question. I nod again, forcing myself to believe that this is actually happening. He nods back, eyes never leaving mine. “I thought that I could feel it coming. Like- like this huge build up in my chest and… almost like a doorway? Like I could see the door but didn’t quite know how to unlock it.”

Azriel doesn’t say anything for a long few beats. “Mates…”

I nod. “Mates.”

It’s like saying it outloud solidified it because only after that did the burn for him become unbearable. It was untamed and wild and feral, just like Feyre had said it would be. Before we wrecked everything in the kitchen, I dropped his hands from my body and walked to the counter.

I held out the plate of homemade dumplings and presented them to Azriel. His eyes looked from the plate and back up to me.

He looked hungry. Not for the dumplings– most definitely not for the dumplings. I wonder what it feels like for him. If he’s as desperate as I am. As eager and impatient. If he can barely stand the two feet between us like I do.

Azriel’s fingers are trembling as he plucks one of the dumplings off the plate and brings it to his mouth. In any other scenario I’d find it weird as he doesn’t look away while he chews… but his scent is driving me in-fucking-sane and I can't look away.

I think it’s safe to say that he doesn’t taste it, practically swallowing it whole. The plate of dumplings are on the floor the next second and a gasp leaves my mouth. His hand is fisted in my hair, mouth covering mine.

Fuck me. Feyre wasn’t joking about everything feeling different. About feeling better.

I pressed onto my toes and looped my arm around the back of his neck. He grabbed the backs of both my thighs and hauled me onto his hips.

“Mate,” Azriel growled out. “My mate, my mate.”

My ass hit the counter and the canister of spoons and utensils crashed to the floor. I went to look, but Az gripped my throat and forced me to look back at him. He looked wild. Like pure instinct had taken over.

“Az-”

“You’re fucking mine,” he spoke through clenched teeth. “All fucking mine.”

“All yours, Az,” I breathed out, his thumb pulling down my bottom lip. I sucked on it, tears springing into my eyes when he shoved it further down my throat. I watched the grin spread across his face. “All mine,” I said with equal possession.

“Only you have that power now, Yn. The power to bring me to my knees. I do not bend to anyone except you. Always you. Forever you.”

My heart swelled before his lips were back on mine, tongue curling with mine in haste. His hands worked their way down my thighs, spreading them apart. I shuddered at the feeling of him against my core, cock already hard and pulsing against me.

His scent– lightning hot with a touch of cinnamon– cascaded around me, blooming into the air and making my body react in a way I didn’t know it could. I scratched at the edges of his fighting leathers, desperate for his body against mine. Azriel reached for the straps, sliding them through the buckles with five centuries of experience and effortless precision.

The material gave away and fell to the floor and there was nothing but his tattooed skin in my hands. Nails clawing up his back and shoulders, I couldn’t get closer if I tried. I needed closer. I Needed him inside me like I needed water or the sun.

My body was thinking for me, hands fumbling with my bottoms as he ripped off his. Even as much as I didn’t want to draw away from his mouth, I couldn’t help the curiosity to look at him.

I dipped my eyes down, seeing a few beads of slick slip from his body, coating the tip of him. I reached down, even more desperate for a taste than I had been for the feeling of his lips on mine.

Az watched with a predatory look etched in his eyes. I gathered it and brought my finger to my mouth, the taste of him settling in my bones. He tasted how he always did, but there was just something more satisfying about it now. The confirmation that for the rest of our lives I would be able to have every part of him. Whenever I wanted.

He couldn’t wait. And I didn’t blame him. In another heartbeat I was flipped over and on my stomach, knees knocking into the cabinet below. His hands tore the rest of the material from my body and the scraps gave away.

He was panting. I’ve never heard him be this vocal. Or this destructive. “Hold still.” He commanded, pressing on the middle of my back to get me to stop squirming.

I obeyed.

His hands spread my ass apart and I heard his tongue working in his mouth. I gasp when he spits onto my already soaked cunt, spreading it around with his fingers. He lands a crack to my ass with his palm next and I grit my teeth together, whining when he does it again.

“Fucking mine,” He snarls, and I feel the tip of his chock slide over my clit. There is the familiar sting that comes with his size as he presses all the way in, not giving me the time to adjust like he normally would.

But Cauldron damn me if I actually cared. I need him inside me. Need to feel every inch of his length until I couldn’t feel him at all.

My body was vibrating, as was his. He pulled out and rocked back in, nails dragging down my spine. He let out a dark laugh, void of any real tenderness. “Gods I am going to fucking ruin you, Yn. Yeah you like that don’t you? Fuck.”

I cried out. My body was on fire. Every single hair on my skin stood up on end as he claimed me. Every part of my mind and body and soul melded together with Azriels with each snap of his hips.

It was not soft. Or sweet. Or comfortable. We were both satisfying an ancient need for each other in every way possible. That door with his shadow leading me was wide open, and it was like I could see into his mind. Through his eyes, I looked at my marked body.

The noises tore through me as did my release. I convulsed around him, arching up and into the momentum as he rocked into me. In seconds I was lifted off the counter, still shuddering around his cock when we landed on the floor.

Azriel hauled my ass into the hollow of his hips and hit places so deep inside me I didn’t know how to breathe.

He was a panting, shaking mess behind me.

“Mine,” he murmured against my neck, teeth grazing the skin. “You’re doing such a good job, taking my cock like that.”

I whimpered as he forced my hips to meet his. He leaned over my body and I felt a few drops of sweat trickle onto my skin. He pushed my chest flat against the floor and I wasn’t entirely sure that my spine wasn’t going to break with the force. With one hand pinning my shoulder, the other ripped my hair back, creating the most painful yet pleasurable angle.

Shadows whirled around my body, ghosting every inch to stimulate me beyond anything I thought possible. All reason left my mind. I was his, and he was mine. His body, his soul… it was all mine. He was giving himself to me, just like I was giving myself to him.

Every push of his body into mine drew sounds I didn’t know we could make. At this angle I could feel how much bigger he was than me. Knowing that if he wanted to he could easily over power my body without lifting a finger.

For a second time my body overtook my mind, leaving me no choice to follow its lead. I shook and cried out, chanting his name over and over again as I came a second time in only a few minutes.

“Fucking look at you,” Azriel said, easing up on his lod of my hair. “Taking my cock like it’s nothing. You are doing such a good job, Yn. Gonna fucking breed you. Aww, you’d like that, hmm? I can feel you clenching, feel how much you want it.”

I nodded, not able to form any words.

Azriel turned me over on my back and pinned my knees to the floor with his shadows. That same darkness curled around my wrists and sealed them above my head while his hands worked my nipples, my clit.

I couldn’t thrash even if I wanted to. His teeth left marks along my chest, the muscles in his shoulders rippling as he forced his cock into me at a brutal pace.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpered. “F-fuck yes, Gods you feel so fucking hot.”

I did my best to tighten around him, and judging by the way his hips stuttered, I did a good job. The muscles around his ribs and abdomen flared, the veins in his arms pushing to the surface.

“I can’t-” he heaved for a breath, mumbling curses and pleas. “Can’t hold on anymore.”

“Let go,” I beg, new tears spilling down my cheeks. “Fill me up.”

Azriel was a mess of gasping breaths and praise as he focused all his motion. Every hard ridge of his body was constricted and convulsing with power as he cursed again, head dipped low, breath fanning over my chest and neck.

My mind melted as I felt the bond snap into place even deeper. There had been a mental connection earlier, but this was the physical side. Azriel’s front draped over mine as he came deep inside me, his thighs shaking as he fucking into me over and over and over, cum trickling out with each new push of his cock into my aching cunt.

“That’s a good girl… there you go,” he slurred his words, drunk off the feeling of his release. I could feel it as if it was my own. Feel his claim on my body as if it was my own. “Take it all. All fucking mine. Such a good mate. Taking all my cum so fucking good.”

I moaned, fingers and toes tingling as he took his weight off my chest and sat up. Sweat gleamed his body. My eyes were blurry, but I could still see the need in his eyes.

I swallowed, the high of it all settling in. His hands roamed over my body, up around the creases of my still bound thighs, and up my sides.

After a few more short gasps, his hand was gripping my chin. “I am not letting you out of the fucking bed until no one is able to tell our scents apart again. Everyone is gonna know that you’re mine. My mate, and everyone will know I am yours.”

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

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thecreelhouse · 16 days

Note

BRATTY SMUT PROMPTS don’t gotta tell me twice 🏃‍♀️💨

“what happened? you wanted this so bad five minutes ago” with Steve… perhaps in publique 🫢🫣

lulu :’) hi!!! sorry to just get to this rn but I hope you like it 🫶🏻 it ended up softer than i anticipated, hope that’s ok! 800+ words, public/high sex, Steve being a soft dom, all that sweet stuff :’)

“Shhhh, gotta be quiet for me, angel.”

It’s already hard enough to be quiet when Steve’s shoved to the hilt inside of you, but outside? Around other people? Around friends?

Doesn’t help much that you and Steve split a joint before this, too.

You’ve already got a terrible poker face; if the whining and whimpering weren’t enough of a sign that something filthy was going on, your expression will surely give you away.

“W- we should stop—“ A whine rips through you, and you’re grateful the cicadas are so loud tonight, drowning your noises out.

It helps the two of you are far off from the campsite, close enough to see, far enough that no one that’s tipsy or stoned could tell what exactly is going on with the two of you, cuddled close in the hammock at the edge of the woods.

The only source of light comes from the campfire ways away, and the stars poking through the leaves of the trees surrounding you. A distant wave of laughter, hollering, and the crackle of the campfire floats over towards you and Steve; a reminder you’re not alone while he’s deep inside of you.

Steve’s spooning you, holding your ass flush against his lap as you cockwarm him under a blanket— an idea that sounded brilliant to you while drunk the night before, but now…

“They’re gonna notice,” Your voice wavers as you hold back a moan; Steve rolls his hips into you every so often, causing your breath to hitch and face to bury into the hammock, terrified someone will come over at the wrong moment.

“No one’s over here, we’re fine.” He snaps his hips into you, making the hammock rock between the trees. “Told everyone we needed some time alone, anyway.”

“Oh, ‘cause that makes it less suspicious,” You quip back, attitude dissolving as his hand travels under your shirt, lazily toying with your tits; he lets out a breathy laugh, one that tickles along your neck before he kisses the spot slowly. “Steve… we shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t… what?”

“This.”

“Since when does your bratty ass care about gettin’ in trouble?”

The arm snaked around you from underneath teases your nipple with his fingertips, while the one hooked over you has slid its way between your legs, slowly circling your clit. You arch back into Steve, giving him a better angle to suck a mark into your neck.

“Steve, s- stop— m’gonna—“

“Gonna cum? That’s the whole point, honey. What happened? You wanted this so bad five minutes ago.” He’s smirking still as he slows his movements, leaning over you to catch a glimpse of your face, covered in worry. “You okay? We can stop—“

You shake your head, backing into him with shallow breaths. “No, I— it’s just—“ You whine, really whine, “It’s hard.”

Steve snorts, “I know I am, honey—

“Not you!” You snap in a hiss, ducking your head under the blanket to hopefully muffle your moans as he rolls his hips into you again. “God, Steve, feels …. Feels so good.” He pulls the blanket away from your face, kissing up your neck and to your jaw slowly.

The hand wrapped under you slides up to your mouth, covering it fully as he pulls you closer— as if you could get any closer— whispering soft, filthy praises and promises; you’re clenching around him while he gives it his all to silence his own grunts.

“You’re s’good for me,” He’s breathy, eyes rolling back as his high comes up on the horizon, with you not too far behind him. “Such a sweet, pretty thing, all mine…”

“All yours,” You whimper into his palm. “You’re mine.”

“Mhm,” His fingers continue playing with your clit as he steadily, sneakily (or, he thinks) fucks into you, slow and deep. “S’tight and wet, all mine to play with.”

“S- Steve…”

“See what happens when you’re a good girl? When y’don’t act out?”

“M’so close, Steve—“ a strangled moan attempts to escape you, but Steve holds his hand even tighter against your mouth.

“Let go, honey, I got you,” Out of all the dirty, sweet things he’s said to you tonight, this is the thing to push you over the edge. “I always got you.”

You nod, biting back a scream as you convulse around him, leading Steve into his high with you. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, whimpering. It’s a sound that’s so sweet to you, one you’d do anything to hear over and over again if it meant Steve felt good.

“My good girl,” He murmurs into your ear as he comes down; the both of you catch your breath in the hammock, rocking noticeably now. You’re blissed out, incredibly sleepy and comfortable as the two of you settle into one another. “See? Worth it. No one noticed—“

Robin’s voice calls out from across the campsite, disgusted— “Are you guys done fucking yet?! Nasty.”

You glance over your shoulder at Steve, whose face is bright red with embarrassment. “You were saying?”

#prompts #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you

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secretsofblackthornhall · 2 years

Text

Emma To Bruce

Dear Bruce,

We did it! The curse is broken! Rupert is free! Long live Rupert!

In retrospect, it’s insane how much of this we tried to do by ourselves. We should have known that when we finally succeeded we would do it with a whole team present—in this case Jem, Tessa, Kit, and Magnus. (Mina assisted by raising morale and drawing all over everything with her toy stele.)

Everyone’s still here, too, and we can relax a little in a newly uncursed house. (It really is quite homey, now that it’s been cleaned up and, you know, had its demonic aura dispelled.) Everyone except Magnus, who left this afternoon in a great rush to get back to New York.

New paragraph to talk about this, actually, because I have a lot of questions that don’t have answers and I can only ask you, Bruce. So Magnus was in a hurry to get back because of a meeting Alec is holding with Luke and some other Downworlders about plans for negotiating with the Cohort. Okay, but I feel like the Cohort doesn’t have much leverage, right? The situation is way worse for them than for us. We should be able to wait them out—shouldn’t we?

I mean they have a symbolic advantage, I guess. We’re all Shadowhunters and we all miss Idris and Alicante and Lake Lyn and probably a lot of us left stuff there we can’t get back and oh right, also a lot of people lived there who have had to evacuate all over the world and want to get back. I get that. But, like…what are the Cohort even eating in there? Idris doesn’t really grow food. Are they all homesteading in there? Raising crops? Churning butter? It’s kind of hard to imagine Zara doing any of that. But you never know. I mean, there aren’t even any demons to fight in there. Which is a good reminder that Shadowhunters are definitely not meant to hole up in Idris where there’s no demons for them to fight. I feel like Raziel was pretty clear on that point.

They must be losing their minds in there. I hope they found some board games or something.

Maybe Zara has declared herself Queen for Life and she doesn’t have to farm because she just marches around threatening to kill anybody who doesn’t grow her a potato right this instant.

Or maybe we haven’t heard anything because they all ate each other in there. Or maybe they mutinied against Zara and someone else gets to threaten to kill people now.

Okay, end of pondering the Cohort. I’m in a good mood, or was before I started this entry, anyway. We’ve been hanging out with Jem and Tessa and Kit and it’s really great. We ordered in Chinese (delivery couriers are always a bit terrified to come up the driveway, but we tip them like crazy so they’ve started to know us while we’ve been here). We lit candles—for ambience instead of for dark magic, what an idea!—and ate dumplings until we were too full to move, a thing I haven’t done since Magnus and Alec’s wedding. Apparently if I am offered dumplings, I will eat them until I become a dumpling myself. To that I say: I would never reject becoming that which I love most.

Anyway. Even Kit was less broody than usual tonight! He was hanging out with Round Tom and they seemed to be getting on okay. Oh, and I almost forgot! How could I forget! The workers found a coffin buried in the garden. But there was not a horrifying dead body inside, but rather a bunch of old stuff! Using a coffin as a time capsule seemed like a weird choice to me, but Tessa and Jem made some faces and some noises that suggested there was a long-ish story there we’ll have to ask about later.

Anyway, in the coffin was A SCABBARD FOR CORTANA. I mean, right? Can you believe it? Tessa said it used to belong to Cordelia Carstairs, who was Cortana’s wielder generations ago. The scabbard needs a lot of cleaning (a lot of cleaning) but then it can be reunited with Cortana. (After all, I think it’s probably more Cortana’s possession than anyone else’s; perhaps they’ll be happy to be reunited.)

There was also a sword for Julian—what used to be a Blackthorn family sword, but this one is only a hilt, its blade is totally missing, I have no idea why. He’s talking about getting it reforged. Big shock, Round Tom knows a guy. Triangular Jerry. No, I’m kidding on the name, but Round Tom actually does know a blacksmith and he and Julian have started talking about getting that done. (Actually, what Round Tom wants to do is have a forge installed at Chiswick, which is a cool idea, but do we want another building project on top of all the others? I mean, maybe, having a forge here at the house would be pretty cool.)

Oh, you might be wondering about Rupert’s ring, since it’s not like he could take it with him, and he hasn’t come back for it in a ghost way. Magnus checked it out and said no magic any more, just an ordinary ring Tatiana must have enchanted to bind Rupert. But none of us is going to wear it, of course. So we put it on the mantelpiece in the drawing room. Where it will remain.

The Gray-Carstairs-Herondaleses are heading back to Cirenworth tomorrow. It’s been really great having them here, but you know, it will be nice to have them go and have it be just Julian and I here in the house, not feeling creepy all the time. That seems like good times for us.

Bruce, good times are canceled. Everything’s gone wrong. I guess I was a little too smug about how everything was going; the universe had to come and screw it up for me.

Mina is gone.

And by gone I mean kidnapped.

And by kidnapped I mean, the kidnapper left a creepy old-timey porcelain doll (with wide, dead eyes, ugh) in her place, and a note.

I had just finished writing the above stuff when I heard a horrible scream from upstairs and loud footsteps, and came out to find everyone gathered in Mina’s room staring in horror.

I immediately thought oh no, another curse, or the same curse, the curse isn’t over, and maybe you did too, but that’s not what this is. This is something else entirely. Something involving faeries. Something involving Faerie.

Tessa picked up the note, read it, and handed it to Jem with a bad look on her face. Julian was already opening the window to see if anyone could be spotted outside, and I read over Jem’s shoulder:

#secrets of blackthorn hall #sobh #mina carstairs #emma carstairs #Tessa gray #faerie #jem carstairs #Rupert #zara dearborn #The Cohort #cortana

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digitaldiarystuff · 4 months

Text

Age Doesn’t Matter (or does it?) Pt. 2

summary: You meet a boy at a club on a night out but realize he looks younger than he says he is

pairing: Pablo Gavi x Y/N

genre: fluff/ smut

————

You woke up with a massive hangover and for a second forgot about last night. That was until you picked up your phone to a hundred messages from Pablo, Pablo Gavi.

They started with a slight denial.

“What makes you think that??”

Then got a little freaked out.

“Did someone tell you that?”

And then came the confession.

“Yeah, I am.”

But it didn’t stop there.

“Okay yes I lied but you would never talked to me if you knew, I could sense your panic while asking my age and I freaked out I’m sorry but I didn’t want to blow my chance.”

“Did I blow my chance?”

Then he got agitated.

“Are you going to leave me on delivered for ever?”

“Why aren’t you saying something?”

“Are you asleep?”

You were in shock for most of the texts but him asking if you’re sleeping via text got to you and you started cracking up. He was a little too needy and now that you know you have a 4 year age gap and he’s a football star you just couldn’t continue this. However, his infatuation with you kind of made your heart flutter, he was too sweet and persistent for his own good. One text won’t hurt, you thought.

“Yes, I’m asleep at the moment.” you said and got a response in less than a minute.

“Ha ha very funny, have I told you I have a thing for funny girls?”

“You apparently also have a thing for older girls?” you teased. His age was still a problem.

“Maybe I have a thing for you.” and when you didn’t answer “Look I really am sorry I was just afraid you wouldn’t want anything to do with me if you knew my age.” and another “You know billions of people in relationships have age gaps and they all get along well.”

“Are you only this talkative when you’re sober or did I drink too much last night?”

“Okay I understand I’m not on your best side right now but I’m free tonight if you want to meet and I can show you why age doesn’t matter.”

Your mind went blank for a second and you remembered how his hands and lips made you feel last night, you hadn’t been intimate with anyone for a really long time and to be fair, Pablo looked far more attractive than any guy around you and his text just rose your heartbeat but your obsession with his age was nagging your brain constantly.

“I’m busy” you said terrified about his effect on you.

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t”

“The day after?”

“Can’t”

He sent a frowny face emoji and you thought it was the end of the conversation. It made you a little sad but you wouldn’t admit it but a few minutes later you got another text.

“What are you doing now?”

You stupidly thought this was just an ice breaker and said you were at home not doing anything.

“Then send me your address” he texted and you realized he wouldn’t give up easily. You mentally slapped yourself but gave him the address anyway. He said he’d be at yours in half an hour which was too little in your opinion, your home was a mess and so were you.

After taking a quick shower you weighed your options about outfits, it should be put together but not too fancy or he’d think you wanted to look good for him, which you did.

Finally you decided on biker shorts and an oversized crewneck. And you also applied some concealer under your eyes and started putting the dishes in your dishwasher and even stuffed all your clothes lying around your room to your closet hoping he wouldn’t snoop in there. Thank god your roommate was at work and you didn’t have to worry about her. As you were finishing up cleaning around the doorbell rang and you took a breath and saw Pablo on the side, your drunk mind didn’t play any games to you and he still was gorgeous. His hair was wet and he had a duffle bag on his shoulder smiling widely at you.

“Hi” he said timidly.

“Hi, come in” you said and let him in. “Were you at training?” you asked given his outfit and bag. He sat down on one side your L shaped sofa and you sat on the opposite side.

“Yeah, I came straight out of practice.”

“So when you texted me”

“Yes I was still on the pitch.” he said giggling.

You loved how much effort he put into just texting you but also hated how it made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Would you like to drink anything?” you asked whilst getting up.

“Just water would be fine.” he shrugged and you got 2 bottles giving him one. You hated how your eyes diverted to his biceps while he was grabbing it. He really made this hard for you.

You both took sips and didn’t talk for a moment.

“Look Pablo, I” he cut you off with a kiss. His hands found your cheeks and you reciprocated after a second placing yours on his chest. He backed down after a moment to seize your reaction. But he saw you, eyes closed and enjoying yourself so he kissed you again. This time he was much more confident in his moves, he grabbed your waist and made you straddle him like you weighed nothing, getting you more aroused. Your legs were on both his sides as you never broke the kiss. He then started kissing your chin and neck making his way around your body and you used this opportunity to get rid of his shirt.

His hands held your lower back and you involuntarily rolled your hips against him invitingly. His eyes rolled back for a second and said “Can I?” and you just nodded. He took your hoodie off and saw you weren’t wearing any bra underneath.

“I see you’ve prepared for me.” he cockily smirked and you rolled your eyes but his confidence made you want him even more. He hungrily attacked your breasts with his mouth while you were rocking your hips and pulling the hair on the nape of his neck. You could feel his bulge underneath you growing every second. He then made you lay down on the couch and went for your leggings, looking to your eyes for permission.

“Please” you said in a small voice and were shocked about how needy you were. This was new to you.

He smiled and rolled your leggings down your legs. Suddenly you felt overly exposed and reality hit for a second until he saw you were wearing a burgundy lacy thong, he smiled but kept his mouth shut. You could practically see the lust in his eyes and that made all insecurities disappear. He started toying with the hem of your underwear and you were barely able to wait.

“C’mon Pablo I need you to show me age doesn’t matter.” you whined hoping to get some action and it seemed like it worked. He didn’t even took your thong off just shoved it aside and started to pepper some kisses around your core. He also started to rub your inner thighs and when you were about to complain again, he shushed you with a lick across your folds and all your words disappeared immediately. You forgot how to breathe for a second but Pablo kept on going and going until you were arching your back and screaming his name. After you came, he wanted to give you a moment to catch your breath but he was about to explode if he stopped now. He was a goner as soon as he heard his name roll over your tongue as high pitched moans. He freed his member and started running his hands over it a few times before reaching out his pocket and pulling a condom out, you rolled your eyes again but he smirked and said “I was hoping you’d want me as much as I want you”

He put it on your entrance and checked if you’re okay with this but all you could muster was a nod. You were still seeing clouds because of the orgasm he gave you mere seconds ago. He coated himself with your juices and pushed it in. You yelped at the feeling but he wasn’t going to give you time to adjust as he started thrusting with all his power. All the practice he goes through daily made his stamina another level and his movements never slowed down only sped up and after a while you both became undone.

Both of you were still trying to catch your breaths, his head was on your chest and his arms around your waist. He looked up at you and you melted, he looked like an angel even though he did some devilish stuff to you minutes ago, his eyes were the best brown you’ve ever seen with hints of honey and his post hair sex was even more appealing than his regular hair.

You didn’t say anything but he still understood what you wanted to say and kissed your lips, not like the previous ones fueled by lust, just adoration and you smiled into the kiss realizing maybe age really didn’t matter.

————

note: okokok just hear me out, this is the first time i’m ever trying to write smut and i don’t even know what to think but i hope you enjoy it, lmk if you have any ideas

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bellaxgiornata · 10 months

Text

All These Years [Part 13: "Breaking the News"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 7.6k

a/n: This installment is quite painful and there is still no comfort to be had in this series quite yet, friends. But hey, it's the long anticipated moment where Matt learns the truth, right? And you get a Matt POV at the end. Plus this one is LONG. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks (some of you I cannot tag so please check your settings!)

Shifting back and forth on your feet outside of Foggy’s apartment, you anxiously waited for him to answer the door. Both of your now sweat-slicked hands were firmly gripping the six pack of beer you’d picked up on your way over, hoping it would help ease the sting of what you were here to tell him. You were beyond terrified of his reaction and just hoping he would take the news as well as you figured he could.

You could hear Foggy’s muffled voice as he made his way through the apartment, the door swinging open a few moments later. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably in knots as Foggy’s beaming face came into view. You felt terrible that he had no idea why you’d asked to stop by tonight, and judging by the look on his face, he clearly thought it was just a friendly social visit.

“Hey!” he greeted brightly, saying your name. “Come on in!”

“Hey, Fog,” you greeted him back nervously.

Stepping inside, you awkwardly slipped out of your shoes as Foggy closed the door behind you. The rapidly beating thrum of your heart felt loud to your own ears as you sent him a tight smile. Foggy’s attention dropped down to the beer in your hands, his eyes further lighting up.

“Oh man, I am so glad you actually brought some beer because you know what?” he began, making his way towards the worn gray couch in his living room. “This whole week has been rough. Like an absolute shit show at the office. I could’ve started drinking hours ago.”

Hesitantly you followed after Foggy, making your way over towards his couch and watching as he sank down onto a cushion. Feeling even worse after hearing that his week had been difficult already, you awkwardly set the beer on his coffee table before sliding out two bottles and handing one to him. He thanked you before twisting off the cap, tossing it next to the six pack on the coffee table. Feeling slightly sick to your stomach, you opened your beer before settling onto the couch. Immediately you took a long pull from the bottle, swallowing the alcohol down and hoping it would quickly help dull your nerves. Except when you lowered the bottle to your lap, spotting Foggy across from you on the couch rubbing at his temples, your nerves only increased.

“So uh, bad week?” you asked lamely.

Foggy nodded enthusiastically. “That’s an understatement,” he replied. “We almost lost the trial yesterday. The whole thing was a massive headache. Matt has been a little too distracted this week with who the hell knows what, but he was off. Like way off this week. He was nothing like his usual self.”

“Oh,” you whispered, not wanting to think about Matt right now.

“But anyway, it’s Friday tomorrow and things should hopefully be looking up,” Foggy concluded, the smile returning to his face. “I’m going to try to remain optimistic that tomorrow will be better. But what about you? How’s work been going for you? And how’re things with your man? I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

Gripping the bottle of beer a little tighter in your hands, you took a deep breath and tried to prepare yourself for the news you were about to break.

“Well, Adam and I…broke up,” you admitted slowly.

Foggy’s eyes grew wide immediately, one hand lowering the beer from his mouth before he could even take a drink. He was leaning towards you on the couch, his mouth open in shock. You watched as he struggled to take a moment to process the information.

“You–you guys broke up? When?” Foggy asked.

Biting your lip, you looked away. Your cheeks were burning from the guilt at having kept Foggy in the dark for so long, but you hadn’t been ready to tell Foggy the full truth about why you’d broken up and that you were possibly moving. And there hadn’t really been a way to explain things away to him without lying in front of Matt–which you knew Matt would’ve called you out on.

“It’s been a few months now,” you told him.

“What?” he asked in shock.

Foggy was quickly sliding over to you on the couch, reaching over to set his beer on the coffee table before his focus fully turned on you. You could already feel the tears forming when you saw that damn sympathetic look on his face again.

“Dude, hey, what’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me you and Adam broke up?” he questioned. “You tell me everything . What happened?”

“He wanted more from me than I could give him,” you confessed, lips trembling. “Because I–I'm still…”

Foggy’s face instantly fell, knowing exactly what you meant without you even needing to finish your sentence. He nodded slowly.

“Matt?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Matt.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Foggy said, one of his hands landing comfortingly on your shoulder. “I really thought maybe Adam had been the one to get you past your feelings for him. You both seemed so happy together.”

“We were, to an extent,” you told him. “Until Erica came into the picture and reminded me that I can’t just push my feelings for Matt under a rug.”

“So that’s why you broke up then?” Foggy asked. “Because you still have feelings for Matt?”

“Well,” you began slowly, your mouth suddenly going dry, “there was…something else.”

Foggy straightened on the couch instantly, his eyes narrowing curiously back at you. You felt his hand tighten on your shoulder just a bit.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Did he–was he…?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “No, he wasn’t cheating. But I–I was offered a new position at work a few days before we broke up.”

You swore Foggy’s entire body had frozen on the couch. It didn’t even look like he was breathing anymore.

“It uh, it has a huge pay increase–almost double my current salary,” you continued, your stomach nervously churning as you did. “But it’s–it’s out in L.A. And Adam didn’t want to leave his job and his family here. Which is why he mentioned things like moving in together and–and possibly marriage down the road. He wanted me to stay for him. But I couldn’t see those things with him. And I tried really hard to, but I just–just couldn’t. So we broke up. And then afterwards I’d been…considering the job offer.”

Foggy’s lips thinned out, tears shining noticeably in his own eyes as he sat so still beside you. You could feel your own tears ready to fall at the way he was looking at you.

“You're taking it, aren't you?” he whispered. “You’re taking the job?”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you nodded. “Yeah, Fog,” you answered. “I accepted it. They offered it months ago and I’d been waiting until it was a sure thing before I told you.”

Foggy sniffled loudly, his hand releasing your shoulder to wipe the heel of it across his watery eyes. “So you’ve known for a while?” he asked.

“Like I said, it wasn’t a sure thing,” you told him. “My company was still trying to get their new office set up out there for the past couple of months. But I officially accepted the offer at the beginning of this week. I uh, I’m flying out this weekend to find an apartment, but I’ll be back on Monday for work.”

“Fuck,” Foggy swore, turning and slumping defeatedly back into the the couch. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

Licking your lips nervously, your attention dropped down to the beer in your lap. Your fingers were drumming along the brown bottle as you heard Foggy curse again. Slowly you tried to inhale a deep breath, struggling to keep your resolve. You knew this was going to be difficult, but you also knew you needed to do this.

“Why are you leaving?” Foggy asked, breaking the silence that had fallen.

“I told you,” you began, “I was offered a position that–”

“No,” he said, cutting you off firmly and sitting upright again, the movement and tone catching your eye. “No, that’s not why you’re leaving. It’s because of this thing with Matt, isn’t it? You’re leaving because of him.”

Stunned, your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to form a sentence. Were you that transparent?

“Fog, I–”

“You’re running away, aren’t you?” he pressed. “Admit it. You’re running away from him.”

“Foggy, I can’t do this anymore,” you confessed, a few tears finally spilling over. “Yes, okay? Yes, I’m running away from Matt. Because I love him and he knows it, but what he feels for me isn’t the same. It’ll never be the same.”

You brushed a hand absently over your cheeks to wipe away the tears that had slipped out. Fuck, you were so sick of crying.

“I love him, Fog,” you said, voice breaking on his name. “And it hurts so fucking bad. Do you have any idea what that’s like? To be in love with your best friend for years ?”

Tears were openly streaming down Foggy’s face now as he listened to you. He kept dabbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, but more tears kept coming in their stead. The sight of him crying was only further causing more of your own tears to fall.

“I see him all of the time, Foggy,” you continued, emotion thick in your voice. “It hurts to even hug him knowing it means something else to me than it does to him. And it’s like I swear I feel something everytime we do. It’s like this–this warm, happy, safe feeling washes over me. Like I could just–just stay there forever. But then I have to remind myself he’s just my friend and it hurts .” Sniffling loudly, you tried to keep your voice even as the words continued to pour out of you. “Now he’s with Erica. And you’ve seen him with her, Fog. He’s got that lovesick puppy look around her all of the time. He’s been crazy about her for months. It’s like Elektra all over again, except Erica isn’t necessarily bad for him. Their relationship, despite how busy Erica always is, is one that I could see becoming something more, you know?”

“Marriage?” Foggy asked.

Grimacing, you nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered. “And if it’s not her, it’s going to be someone else. Someone who isn’t me. And Fog, I–I can’t–can’t–”

The words got stuck in your throat, and no matter how hard you tried, it was a choked sob that fell out of you instead. Foggy was quick to wrap his arms around you and pull you into a hug. Burying your face into his shoulder, you openly wept at the thought of having to witness Matt get married to someone else. It had been painful for years to see him sleep around with countless women at Columbia, even worse when he’d been so stuck on Elektra with how awful she was for him. And then it stung watching him date and sleep around even more after that. But seeing him in a relationship now that might be eventually going towards something serious down the road? That had been the line you had to draw.

“I can’t be here to see that,” you choked out, shaking your head against Foggy’s shoulder as the tears continued to fall from your eyes. “It would–would kill me, Fog. I can’t–can’t see him marry someone else. I can’t do it. I can’t .”

“But why do you have to go?” Foggy whispered. “Why do you have to leave me, too?”

“Because Matt will always be here,” you answered softly. “And as long as he’s within reach, I’ll always be reaching for him.”

Pulling away from Foggy, you wiped roughly at your eyes. His arms released you slowly, coming to wipe at his own eyes that were still watering.

“I’m sorry, Fog,” you whispered. “But you can still come visit. So can Karen. And–and maybe someday I’ll come back and visit you here. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again.”

“Have you told Matt?” Foggy asked.

The question felt like a punch to the gut. You winced at the mention of Matt, that ache in your chest painfully growing. You wondered if anything would ever get rid of it.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “I haven’t.”

“How long until you leave?” Foggy asked.

Your focus dropped down to the beer in your lap. Fingers fidgeting nervously with the label, you refused to look at Foggy when you spoke next.

“About three more weeks,” you said.

“Shit,” he breathed out. “So when–when are you going to tell him?”

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you shook your head. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t even know how to look him in the face and tell him this. I don’t know how I’m going to–” you paused, eyes snapping shut, “–to say goodbye to him.”

“He deserves to know,” Foggy pointed out. “He deserves a chance to say goodbye to you.”

“I know,” you breathed out. “I know.”

Turning the corner, your eyes landed on the red neon sign for Josie’s bar. Your arms wrapped anxiously around yourself, hugging your body tight as you made your way down the sidewalk towards it, maneuvering through the evening foot traffic on the sidewalk.

Tonight was the night. You'd asked Fog and Matt to come out with you to Josie’s. It would be just the three of you this evening, no significant others. Just like old times.

And you were going to tell Matt you were moving in three days.

You'd admittedly cried a lot back at your apartment while you'd gotten ready to come out. Just thinking about what you were going to say to Matt and knowing how soon you would be saying goodbye had gotten you instantly emotional. And you knew Matt was going to be upset with you tonight. You were telling him just days before you left. It hadn’t been intentional, you’d certainly tried to tell him over the weeks before, but you had kept putting it off because you'd been too much of a coward, too afraid to tell him so many other times before. But now that your flight out of New York City was literally days away, you knew you didn’t have a choice. You couldn’t keep putting it off.

Opening the door to Josie’s and stepping inside, you were instantly hit with that musty, moldy smell that always seemed to mix with the scent of alcohol and sweat here. It wasn’t much cooler inside than it was outside tonight you noticed, your eyes scanning the bar for a sign of Matt and Foggy. You spotted them by a table at the far back of the bar, your eyes connecting to Foggy’s almost instantly. He sent you a sad smile, waving you over. You tried your best not to look miserable in return as you approached the table.

“You finally made it,” Matt said, shooting you a wide grin. “Was wondering what was taking you so long.”

The smile you tried to return him probably looked pained, but you knew despite his senses he couldn’t quite tell that. For a moment you stood there standing beside the table, your eyes scanning Matt over where he sat. That handsome, charming smile was still spread wide across his face. You noticed his beard was a bit darker and thicker than usual beneath his red glasses tonight, and he was dressed in his usual white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his muscular forearms on display as he rested his arms on the table.

The sight of him alone felt like a stab to the heart. Blinking hard, you forced yourself to look away as you situated yourself in the chair across the table from him. Turning, you focused your attention on Foggy to the left of you instead. You needed a moment to try to collect yourself.

“Yeah,” you said, finally responding to Matt. “I was running a little late, sorry. I hope you guys weren’t waiting too long.”

“Just a few minutes,” Matt replied. “Not a big deal. I grabbed you a beer, hope that’s alright.”

He slid a bottle across the table towards you, your eyes following the movement of it. For some reason the little act of thoughtfulness had your heart squirming in your chest. It was just a beer, after all. It didn’t mean anything. It’s not like you all hadn’t bought drinks for each other many times in the past.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

A silence fell across the three of you when Matt drew his own beer to his lips for a drink. Your eyes landed on Foggy, noticing him shooting you a pointed look. He’d been on your ass about telling Matt you were leaving for weeks now, and it was apparent on his face that he was mentally screaming at you to rip the bandaid off and just tell him already.

“So uh, how’s work been?” you asked.

Foggy’s eyes narrowed at you and you quickly glanced down at the table, ignoring the sharp look on his face. You didn’t want to just sit down and drop the news in Matt’s lap the moment you showed up. You, at the very least, needed a minute to prepare yourself.

“Busy,” Foggy replied simply. “How’s work been for you?”

Nervously your tongue darted out, wetting your lips. You knew what he was doing. It felt like your throat was closing up at just the thought of saying ‘I’m moving in three days’ to Matt.

“Good,” you answered.

Foggy’s eyes only narrowed further at you. Unable to stand the weight of his glare, you glanced across the table to Matt. But that had proven to be a terrible idea because he was focused straight on you, his head tilted a bit to the side. His dark brows had furrowed together, slightly drawing down below the red lenses he wore.

You knew that look. Ever since you’d learned that Matt was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and you’d been informed about his heightened senses, you’d come to recognize when Matt was picking up on something. Zeroed in on it. And right now he was very focused on you. That alone had your pulse increasing, wondering how much he was picking up on– what he was picking up on.

“You doing alright?” Matt asked you.

Clearing your throat, your attention dropped back to the table. Saying yes was an obvious lie. Saying no would leave you telling Matt the truth right here and now and you weren’t sure the words were going to come out yet. You weren’t sure you were ready for the way he’d surely be upset with you at the news.

“I’m just stressed,” you said–not technically a lie.

There was a brief pause. You could feel both men staring at you and you felt yourself shrinking further in on yourself in response.

“Stressed about what?” Matt pressed.

“Work,” you answered simply.

“What about work?” Foggy pushed.

One of your hands grabbed onto your beer bottle, squeezing it tight in your fist. You felt like you were going to explode, your heart pounding hard in your chest.

“Why don’t we talk about work a little later?” you suggested, teeth gritting together.

Your focus flew up to Foggy, the pair of you locking eyes. There was a very disappointed expression currently resting on his face. For some reason when you saw his mouth open, your own did, too. But instead of blurting the truth to Matt, you found yourself blurting something almost as bad before Foggy could speak.

“How’re Marci and Erica?”

You cringed the moment the question left you, realizing you’d asked Matt to indulge you with details about his relationship. That was not what you wanted. Even Foggy’s expression softened at your question, aware of your mistake.

“Marci’s been busy with work, but doing good,” Foggy answered.

“Great,” you replied stiffly.

Grinding your teeth together, you turned your attention to Matt. There was no backing out of enduring this tidbit about Erica because you’d asked for it. You were just going to have to force the strained smile to stay on your lips as you waited for Matt to stab you in the heart yet again.

“Uh, she’s doing well,” Matt answered slowly, his focus seeming to shift between you and Foggy for a moment.

“Fantastic,” you stated, the strained smile still on your mouth.

You drew your beer up to your lips for another drink, feeling like you desperately needed it. When Matt suddenly spoke again, you hadn’t been expecting it.

“Actually,” he said, his tone a little off, “there was something I was hoping to talk to you both about. Since it’s been quite some time since we’ve been together like this. Just the three of us. I figured I’d tell you both something that’s been on my mind recently.”

Swallowing down your beer, you slowly lowered the bottle to the table. Your attention shifted to Foggy, one of your brows raising curiously. He made a face, lightly shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head in return. He looked just as confused as you were.

“It’s about Erica,” Matt began.

You sucked in a breath, holding it as your eyes flew back to Matt and you waited in anticipation. Had they broken up? Had Matt finally told her the truth about himself and she couldn’t handle it? Was she…cheating on him?

“Look, I know it’s not been quite seven months yet, but I’ve been thinking about just taking the plunge,” Matt continued on, his words tumbling out rapidly. “She’s really great. And she’s an intelligent, driven, successful woman. And we get along so well. I–I’ve found myself thinking about marriage lately.”

It took your brain a few seconds to process what Matt had just said, but when you did, your jaw literally dropped. He hadn’t been with Erica for quite seven months yet, but he was already thinking about marrying her?

Your breath literally caught in your throat as you sat there in absolute shock. You couldn’t breathe. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Foggy’s head instantly whip in your direction. His eyes were wide, his mouth also hanging open in complete surprise.

“Guys?” Matt said nervously. “Care to say something?”

He wanted to marry Erica.

He wanted to marry her .

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her .

Your right hand flew up to your chest, clutching the fabric of your shirt roughly in your fingers. There was a sharp pain shooting straight through your heart in a way you’d never felt before. Were you about to have a panic attack? A heart attack maybe? Was that what this was?

You might actually throw up.

“That’s uh…” Foggy said, voice trailing off as he tried to search for words.

“A good thing?” Matt suggested.

You could hear your pulse hammering in your own ears as you tried to inhale a shaky breath. Fuck, why was it so hard to breathe? Across the table, Matt focused back on you, saying your name with a note of concern.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked slowly. “You don’t sound…alright.”

He just fucking told you he wanted to marry Erica when he knew you were in love with him. Of course you weren’t fucking alright . You were the farthest goddamn thing from alright .

“Does she know?” you breathed out.

“Well…no,” Matt answered slowly. “I haven’t bought up the topic quite yet but I–”

“Does she know who you really are?” you pressed, cutting him off as your hand clutched your chest tighter. “ Does she know ?”

You swore you saw his eyes narrow behind his glasses in the dim light of Josie’s. His lips pressed firmly together in what appeared to be a hint of irritation.

“No,” he answered, his tone darkening a bit. “She doesn’t know that yet, but I don’t think it will be a problem at the moment. She’s mentioned always wanting a long engagement, so I’d have plenty of time to figure it out with her. I don’t think it would be an issue, and until then, she’d want to probably stay at her place near her work. Which means I could keep doing what I’ve been doing. We’d just have to figure that all out later. We’d make it work.”

A bitter laugh fell out of you before you could stop it. Didn’t he hear how stupid that sounded? What the hell sort of hold did she have on him? Why was he so stuck on her? He deserved so much better than being with someone who didn’t know him. He deserved someone who saw all of him and wanted him still. Who loved him for the man he was, crazy and frustrating as he could be sometimes.

Someone like you.

But of course you were never good enough. He'd rather propose to a woman that didn't know he could smell what she'd eaten for lunch when she saw him after work. That had no idea he was risking his life most nights to save the people in the part of the city he loved so dearly.

“She will never move to Hell’s Kitchen with how much she dislikes it, and you’ll never leave it,” you stated sharply, anger quickly growing within you at how ridiculous this whole situation was beginning to sound. “How does that work, Matthew?”

Matt’s brows entirely pulled together behind his lenses, his jaw clenching as he stared back at you. “Well I don’t see how that’s any of your concern,” he shot back, a sharper edge to his tone. “You’re not part of this relationship.”

You gaped at him, momentarily stunned and hurt. A second later your eyes darted over to Foggy, seeing him sitting there in absolute mortification at whatever was happening between you and Matt. He looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Well, Matthew ,” you said bitterly, focusing back on him across the table and not even bothering to hide your anger at this point. What did it matter anymore? You were leaving in three days anyway. “I think it’s a bit absurd that you want to propose to a woman who doesn’t even know you, when you have absolutely no fucking idea where you both would even live together, after not quite seven months of dating. Doesn’t sound like you thought more than three seconds about this whole thing.”

“Excuse me?” he snapped, his dark brows shooting up onto his forehead. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I think it sounds like you’re clinging to her like you clung to Elektra,” you snapped. “For whatever fucking reason you did.”

Matt sat back in his chair, a look of surprise mingled with hurt written on his face. Part of you felt bad for that low blow, but you didn’t have long to feel that way before Matt was leaning forward again, his face set in a firm expression.

“Just because things didn’t work out how you wanted for yourself, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to sit here stuck in one place,” Matt shot back.

His words felt like a slap to the face. You sat there for a moment, the tears burning in your eyes at the audacity of him saying that to you. Of him knowing how you felt about him, telling you he wanted to marry another woman, and then throwing your feelings back at you like that.

Swallowing hard, you abruptly pushed your chair back and rose to your feet. Matt was still sitting and seething on the other side of the table, focused on your movements. Foggy’s face looked like it was permanently stuck in a mixture of shock and horror as he sat in utter silence.

“Fuck you, Matt,” you growled. “I never thought you were that much of an asshole to throw my feelings for you like that back in my fucking face.”

Matt straightened instantly in his chair, his expression shifting rapidly. “What?” he asked.

“I said fuck you ,” you spat, tears starting to make their way down your cheeks. “For knowing I’ve had feelings for you all these fucking years,” you barreled on, watching as his mouth immediately dropped open and his eyebrows shot up high onto his forehead, “and letting me think you were fucking dead for months and now making me listen to your bullshit desire to marry Erica. You’re not worth the goodbye. So fuck you, Matthew Murdock.”

You didn’t bother to wait for him to recover from the shock of your outburst, his body pin straight in his chair as he gaped at you in stunned silence. Turning on your heel, you stormed off out of Josie’s, fuming internally as you pushed the door open and made your way out into the night.

Matt sat in his chair, his mind racing as he listened to you making your exit from Josie’s. He could taste the salt of your tears and the venom of your anger in the air right before you'd left, but it was what he'd thought he'd heard you say that had him sitting dumbfounded in his seat.

Had you said what he'd thought you'd said? Had that really happened?

"Shit, Matt," Foggy groaned out. "What the hell was that?"

Matt's head spun towards Foggy, shock still coursing through him. He could feel his hands shaking as they reached up, pulling his glasses from his face and lowering them to the table.

"What did she just say?" he asked Foggy in disbelief.

Matt could hear the way Foggy’s mouth dropped open yet again and the way his eyes had widened on his friend's face. Though Matt was more focused on the feel of his own racing heart in his chest as he tried to understand what had just happened.

"I think she said it pretty loud and clear, buddy," Foggy told him. "She's pissed at you. And I don't blame her one bit."

"No," Matt breathed out, shaking his head at Foggy. "Not that. The other part. The part about having feelings for me."

"I mean…yeah," Foggy replied matter-of-factly. "She's had them for you forever, dude. You knew that already though."

" What ?" Matt whispered in shock.

You…you'd had feelings for him? For Matt? For years ? And you both for some reason thought he knew that?

"Yeah, Matt," Foggy continued. "She's been crazy about you practically since she met you. She said you guys talked about this when she found out about your big secret. That was a while ago now. She said you'd told her you always had known she liked you because of your senses."

"I–what?" Matt stammered.

"Dude," Foggy said in exasperation. "Why are you acting like this is such big news?"

"Because it is , Fog!" Matt exclaimed. "She told me she was in love with you !"

Foggy froze, his mouth once again hanging wide open. Matt could feel the confusion practically rolling off of him in the chair beside him. Then he noticed Foggy quickly and firmly shaking his head.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Matt?" he asked. "When the hell did she tell you that ?"

"That night!" Matt shouted. “She told me that night!”

“No,” Foggy said, still shaking his head. “No, there’s no way, dude. Did she expressly say ‘Hey, Matt I’m in love with Foggy?’”

Matt opened his mouth, about to tell him yes, but then he stopped short. Because no, you hadn’t in fact said Foggy’s name exactly. You had never actually told him you had feelings for Foggy. He’d always just thought that’s who you’d meant and it had made sense. Even Elektra had been pushing that idea onto him, telling him that you were always pining after him. How obvious it was with the way you looked at Foggy. He’d always thought that was the truth.

Had he been wrong this whole time?

“No,” Matt breathed out. “She–she never said your name. She never said any name.”

It felt like his entire world was falling apart around him. You’d never actually told him you liked Foggy. Never explicitly said his name. He’d just let Elektra’s words and his senses paint a story for him that he’d believed for so long. Which meant that night, over a year ago now when Elektra had dropped him off at your apartment, you’d been thinking he knew that you'd always had feelings for him because of his senses, when Matt had thought you had confirmed you'd always had feelings for Foggy this whole time. And that also meant that night when you hadn’t known who the masked man was and he’d found you drunk in that alley after your asshole ex had cheated on you–it had been him you’d really been crying over. You had both held each other tight that night crying over your feelings for each other in the rain.

All of this time he had been the friend who you’d had feelings for? How could he have been so fucking unaware?

“Holy shit, you really didn’t know, did you?” Foggy asked in surprise.

“No,” Matt repeated vehemently, his focus returning to Foggy. “No, Fog. I swore I thought she was always in love with you! Ever since she met you the pair of you just clicked! You were always spending so much time together. Both so alike. And her body was always reacting like crazy around you–but it…” he trailed off, blinking hard a few times. “It was me?”

Foggy reached out, placing a hand on Matt’s shoulder. He felt his friend give it a reassuring squeeze as he tried to process the influx of information suddenly rushing back to him. Every time he’d thought he was reading you reacting to Foggy, it had been him. How could he have read you so wrong for years?

“Fuck, I almost told her on graduation night,” Matt recalled, tears filling his eyes. “You’d fallen asleep and she was–was right there . I had been about to tell her I had feelings for her–about to kiss her–but then she suddenly panicked and I felt her fear. I thought it was because she knew I was going to and she had gotten scared. Because she wanted you .”

“Dude, no,” Foggy said, squeezing Matt’s shoulder again. “She probably was hoping you’d kiss her but afraid she was misreading the situation. That’s probably the fear you picked up on. She thinks you’ve only ever seen her as a friend, Matt.”

Matt ran a hand through his hair, his mind reeling. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“All this time I’ve just been–been misreading everything ?” Matt asked in shock.

“Clearly. But how the hell does that even happen with you? With what you can do?” Foggy questioned him. “And also–what the fuck, Matt? You’ve had feelings for our best friend all this time and you never fucking told me ?”

Matt’s attention returned to Foggy beside him, his sightless eyes intensely focused on him. “Do you remember that fall semester?” Matt asked earnestly. “That girl I told you I’d ran into?”

“Matt,” Foggy said with a sigh. “You ran into many girls.”

Matt shook his head quickly. “No, not like this. Not her. The one we called the White Whale?” he pushed.

Matt could hear the way Foggy’s brows drew together on his forehead. His hand fell away from Matt’s shoulder and instead came to run across his mouth as he took a moment to think back.

“Yeah,” Foggy eventually answered. “The girl you spent weeks looking around campus for. The one you were dying to meet. We came up with a bunch of ridiculous ways you might meet up with her over winter break.”

“Yes, her,” Matt replied in a rush. He whispered your name, feeling his heart twisting at the sound of it. “That was her . She was the White Whale, Fog.”

Foggy sat speechless for a moment, his hand still raised to his mouth as if he’d been taken off guard by Matt’s admission. Matt could hear Foggy’s heart rate elevating even further in his chest as he processed that information.

“You–you told me you met the White Whale and things hadn’t worked out, Matt,” Foggy pointed out. “You told me that.”

“Because I thought she’d fallen for you!” Matt shot back, gesturing a hand roughly at Foggy. “So I never told you it was her because I figured it didn't matter anymore. And I was–was an asshole and selfishly never said anything about the feelings I thought she had for you because I–I didn’t want to see you two together.”

“Fucking hell, Matt,” Foggy groaned, running a hand down his face. “What a fucking mess. So all this time you two idiots have had feelings for each other and nothing happened because no one fucking said anything?”

“I had no idea,” Matt whispered. “I had no idea she felt that way about me.”

“Ugh!” Foggy exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

Matt heard the way both of Foggy’s hands flew up to cover his face soon after, his hands rubbing agitatedly at his eyes. He could feel the irritation and frustration coming from his best friend, and he could feel something else exuding from him, too. But Matt didn’t take a moment to even wonder what it was as a thought suddenly struck him.

He shoved his chair back, swiftly rising to his feet. He was going to go after you. He had to. He had to tell you the truth. But Foggy’s hand abruptly grabbed onto his arm and it caused Matt to stop before he could even leave the table.

“What’re you doing?” Foggy asked him.

“Going after her,” Matt answered as if it was obvious. “I can’t leave her like that, Fog. I can’t let her continue thinking I knew all of this time that she had feelings for me and that I never felt the same. Because that’s not true. And I can't let her keep thinking that.”

“Matt, buddy, no,” Foggy replied quickly, tugging on his arm. “You just told her minutes ago that you were considering marrying someone else. And need I remind you–you’re still dating Erica. The woman you just told her you wanted to marry. You can't chase off after her in some grand romantic pursuit and tell her you have feelings for her. Not like this. She deserves better, Matt.”

A pained expression pulled at Matt’s face. He didn’t want to let you go back home feeling like this.Thinking what you were thinking. He didn’t want that. Especially knowing what he now knew.

"What're you saying?" Matt asked.

"You want to tell her this?" Foggy questioned back. “That you have feelings for her?”

Matt nodded immediately. "Yes, Fog. Yes. I've wanted to tell her for years. I’ve come so close so many times," he confessed.

"Then do it when you're single, Matt," Foggy stated. "Don't you dare go chasing after her and telling her you have feelings when you're dating another woman. When you just finished talking about marrying another woman. Don't you do that to her, man. Because so help me, Matt, I don't care how well you throw a punch, I will hit you."

Matt's face slowly fell as he gradually slumped back down in his chair. Foggy was right. He had just dropped this idea of proposing to Erica on you–and God what an asshole he felt like now knowing how much that had to have hurt you to hear. No wonder you’d gotten so angry and your body’s stress levels had risen so quickly. And now he would sound like an ass chasing you down after that. But knowing how much pain he’d just caused you only increased that familiar heartache of his own that was currently twisting and constricting in his chest. He’d hurt you tonight. And probably countless nights over the years. How often had you been crying because of him ? He wanted to slam his fist through the table at the thought.

"Why the hell do you want to marry Erica anyway?" Foggy asked. “That seems so out of nowhere, man.”

"Because we–we get along," Matt answered lamely. "And she's always so busy so me being Daredevil has never caused an issue. It’s never been a problem. And I–I don't want to be alone,” he admitted, aware of how pathetic he sounded. “I figured Erica and I would figure things out later. That maybe she'd understand. I wasn’t really thinking things through, I admit that."

"Matt, Erica doesn't even know about your heightened senses," Foggy pointed out. "You can't get that serious with someone out of convenience and fear of being alone, buddy. It's wrong and it won't work out. That’s not fair to Erica, either."

"I know," Matt murmured, running a hand over his forehead. "You're right. You’re both right. I just–just thought I'd never have her and I was lonely. And when I was with Erica, she made me feel less lonely."

Foggy was shaking his head again. "That's not right, Matt. You can't do that to Erica."

"I know," he whispered, shamefully burying his face in his hands. "I'll talk to Erica tomorrow after work. I'll end the relationship. And then I'll talk to her." He whispered your name, his voice muffled by the hands over his face. He could feel the tears burning in his eyes. “I’ll tell her the truth. Everything.”

God did he want to tell you the truth so badly, too. He wondered how pissed at him you would be when you heard it. He wondered if there was anything he could do to make this whole situation salvageable. To fix all the things he’d fucked up, knowingly and unknowingly. He would do anything at all. Whatever it took.

"Well if you're going to tell her about your feelings you better hurry, Matt," Foggy said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re running out of time.”

Matt's brows drew together on his forehead. Something you'd said just before you left ran through his mind again. Something about him not being worth a goodbye. Matt felt his chest tightening further, a few tears slipping out of his eyes as he instantly drew his face from his hands and focused back on Foggy beside him.

"What's going on, Fog?" he asked anxiously. "You said she had something to tell me tonight. I'm guessing this wasn't it. So what is it?"

Foggy expelled a deep sigh, his grip on Matt’s shoulder growing a bit firmer. Matt felt his heart beating a bit erratically in his chest in the silence that followed, especially with the nervous sounds Foggy’s body was making right now.

"She was offered a new position at work," he finally told Matt. "Really amazing pay–almost double her salary. But the job is in L.A. where her company is opening up a new office."

It felt like someone had ran Matt’s heart straight through with a knife. He had endured a lot of physical pain over the past few years running around the city at night, his body taking a lot of abuse. But the way those words struck Matt hurt more than any injury he'd ever sustained.

"Is she–did she…?"

Foggy nodded solemnly. "Yeah," he answered. "She accepted it. She moves at the end of the week."

Matt's tongue felt heavy in his mouth, unable to swallow or form words as his lips began to tremble. You were leaving him. He just found out the truth–that you felt the same way after all this time–and you were leaving him. Moving to the other side of the country in a matter of days and he had no idea until just now. Days before you left.

"What–what about Adam?" Matt breathed out.

"They broke up months ago," Foggy replied. "She realized when you were with Erica that she just couldn't get over you. She hoped Adam might’ve been the one, but apparently he wasn’t.” Foggy sighed, his hand still comfortingly on his friend’s shoulder. “That's why she took the job, Matt. She's running from you. Running from her feelings for you."

Matt’s gaze dropped down to the table, more tears slowly sliding down his face. He’d done that to you, then. Hurt you so badly that you wanted to run from him. Put an entire country between the both of you. Now you didn’t even want to say goodbye to him. He winced at the pain of that thought.

"What if–if I told her?" he asked Foggy desperately, his focus returning to his friend. "What if I told her how I felt, Fog? Would she stay? Do you think she wouldn’t leave then?"

He heard the way the air shifted as Foggy shrugged in answer. The gesture didn't ease the constricting pain in Matt’s chest at all. Warm tears kept falling down Matt’s face as the weight of losing you slowly settled in his heart.

"She can't–can't leave though," Matt croaked out, voice breaking as he shook his head. "She can't leave us–she can't leave me ."

Foggy rose slowly from his chair, crossing the space between the pair of them before wrapping Matt in a hug. Without hesitation Matt clung to his friend as a sob fell out of him, his face contorted in pain.

"She can't leave," Matt choked out. “She can’t , Fog.”

"I know, Matt," Foggy said, emotion thick in his voice. "I don't want her to go either."

"I lose everyone," Matt whispered. He clutched at Foggy’s dress shirt, entirely uncaring of who was watching the scene in Josie’s as he sobbed on his friend’s shoulder. "I can't lose her, too. I can't. I–I love her, Foggy. I love her."

"I’m sorry, Matt," Foggy replied, crying along with him. "But I don't know if there's anything either of us can do now."

[END NOTES]

More end notes this time because I often feel like this series needs it.

Matt now finally knows that Reader is not in love with Foggy! It only took YEARS for him to realize that--and it's only because Reader blurted it out in her anger at Matt having stupid thoughts about marrying someone who didn't even know all of him. Clearly he was clinging to Erica because he didn't think he could ever have Reader and he was trying to latch onto someone who made him feel good in the moment. Matt now also knows that Reader is leaving New York in just a matter of days, too. But, despite Matt now knowing the truth, Reader still has absolutely no idea that Matt has feelings for her. So what happens next? Does Matt chase after her and she stays? Does he miss her and she leaves? Something else? You'll have to wait for the next installment to find out...

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock #daredevil

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circe69 · 1 year

Note

Hello, hello!

I was wondering if the prompt

20.) hand massages - "let me practice on you please? i just need to make sure i'm good at it." *ends massage* "well? how was it?" *takes a deep, shaky breath* "you have to promise you'll only do that for me." Was already taken.

If not, could it possibly be a Simon Riley x fem reader (or gn) ?

He deserves so much affection…

If not, then thank you for reading. I hope you have an awesome day

Stay safe 🤍

hi! yes of course! another sweet nonnie also requested this specific scenario, but i wasn't sure how to put that on here. anyways, thank you for participating in my special!

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 #𝟐𝟎 - 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 - ❤︎

You walked down the dim-lit hall with wet boots clanking on the ground, lotion in one hand, and the other being bandaged and empty. Coming home from a mission was never easy, but this one in particular really made you question your entire career.

It was storming outside, and your head was killing you from all the guns that went off right next to you ear, but you knew someone else that was having a harder time than you.

Ghost never let things get to him, it took a lot to shake him up, but after tonight, you weren't sure if he'd ever be the same. There was a little boy, probably not much older than 5, who had died due to casualties, and those very same casualties would be the cause for Ghost's guilt for the rest of his life.

People died all the time, Ghost being the reason, but kids were different.

You took a deep breath, finally nearing the Lieutenants metal door and preparing yourself to hopefully make his night a little better.

What am I even doing here? There's nothing I could do that would help, you thought, wondering if you should just turn back around. You took a minute to observe your surroundings, the loud and shaky AC harmonizing with the rain pouring on the window at the opposite end of the hall, the few lightbulbs hanging only a few inches above your head, and the thunder that shook the entire base every few minutes, leaving you restless and yearning for someone to just be with.

Raising and clenching your fist, you hesitatingly knocked on the door, 3 times, just like you always did. It was quiet, but you hoped it was enough for him to hear.

Seconds went by, and your pride was already too deep in a ditch to knock again. You started to turn around and head back to your room when the door swung open.

You stopped in your tracks, abruptly turning to face him, the man who you had once been terrified of, but now see him as someone who's just sick of everything he has to do, but does it anyway.

"Y/N." His voice was deep, like fire crackling and splitting wood. It sounded the same as it always did, except for the slight turn his words took at the end of his sentences.

"Sir."

His eyes grazed over you, they looked tired and black around the edges, most likely due to the face paint he feverishly tried to rinse off.

"Do you need something?" He eyed the lotion sticking out of your pocket, resulting in you pulling your tank top over the edge of your pants to hide it.

"I was actually just coming by to make sure," You stopped for a second to scan over his face, "make sure you were alright."

Ghost stood there, leaning against the doorway and eyebrows furrowing so deeply, you could see it through the fabric of his mask. His hands were tight, muscles still tense from events that had happened hours ago.

"I'm alright," he started to close the door right in your face, but you placed your hand against it just in time. "Lieutenant." You were known as somewhat demanding, but always gentle simultaneously. Ghost was confused by it, and how your demeanor always contradicted itself, but it intrigued him nonetheless.

His eyes were drawn to your hand, veins popping out and knuckles turning white due to the amount of strength you were pushing against the door. Due to how hard you were trying to just be with him.

"Get in." He turned around and let you into his room, turning on the singular light as he walked past the switch. He took a seat on his cot, causing the metal springs to groan under his weight, and you pulled up a chair right across from him and sat down, scooting in slightly to be closer.

You bit down on your lip to conceal the smile you so badly wanted to show, but was scared Ghost would kick you out immediately.

"Hurry up and do what you came here to do." His knees were touching yours, but neither of you moved; you felt your stomach jump just at the feeling alone.

You held your hand out, signaling to him that you wanted to see his hand. He hesitated, his eyes shifting from your hand up to your eyes than back down again. Ghost finally caved, his hand outstretching onto yours, and letting the weight of it slowly relax.

"People say I'm really good at it," you paused to watch his eyes widen at the vague statement, "Hand massages, I mean." Your mouth stretched into a smile as you saw a tiny one show through his mask but quickly disappear.

"I'll be the judge of that." His words were quiet, seductively quiet.

You slowly removed the black, leather glove from his calloused hands, and through it over on the bed behind him. Uncapping the coconut scented lotion, you squeezed out a tiny bit on your middle finger before screwing the lid back on the placing it on the carpet below you.

Spreading the cream on his hands, you slowly worked with every one of his fingers, trying to ignore the pleased noises coming from Ghost's throat but never leaving his mouth. There was a particular spot on the webbing between his thumb and finger that made his eyes close in delight, and you pressed there for a little longer to relieve any tension he was holding.

It was all the guns he held, all the triggers he had to hover above for hours at a time before moving. All the salutes and punches he had to swing, it all piled up on his shoulders and the pressure worked its way down his arms and onto his poor hands. Hands that had held his dying family, dying dogs, dying boys. Hands that wiped blood off of himself, not all of it even being his own.

As you finished massaging both of his hands, and hearing him breathe deeply in and out, relishing in the soft scent that reminded him of you, you patted his palm to tell silently tell him you were finished.

"Well? How was it, Lieutenant?"

His eyes slowly opened again, pleased to see that you really were sitting in front of him, and it wasn't another dream.

"You have to promise me something," Ghost said, sliding his fingerless gloves back on and cracking his knuckles.

"What is it?"

He stood up, hovering almost 3 feet over where you sat and crossed his arms as he looked down at you. You tried to disregard taking in his body in its entirety, but your eyes found it hard to stay in one place.

Ghost finally broke the silence that felt like hours but somehow seconds at the same time, "You'll only do that for me."

You smiled, and nodded in fast agreement, you knew from the minute his eyes locked onto yours that he would be the only one you'd ever want to do anything for.

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #modern warfare #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #simon riley x you #ghost x y/n #circe69scribbles #circes1kevent

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finelinevogue · 2 years

Text

home

Description - harry is back home and home is wherever harry is

A/N - this man has my whole fucking heart! i wanted to create a montage of tiny moments that i can imagine happening whilst on tour in manchester just so i have a fic to remember my show by <333

warnings : fluff overload!!! smut (disclaimed just before it happens)

June 14th 2022

11AM - arriving on mancunian soil

It was 11 AM and you were getting off the tour bus from Glasgow.

It had been long day travelling with an early rise, but Harry and the crew needed to get to Manchester in time to set up the stage and settle into accommodation before the big day tomorrow.

You walked down the stairs of the bus after Harry, watching him silently struggle with the luggage bags because he didn’t want you carrying anything. It made you smile when his shoes touched the floor.

Because Harry was back home, baby.

Glasgow had been amazing and had really boosted Harry’s confidence for a stadium tour being a good decision. He had been terrified to go on stage the other day, but with a little push from you he was all better.

“I can’t do it, babe.” Harry sighed with frustration through another sob. He had gotten really upset and overwhelmed with the fact the first show of his tour, like all the other shows, was in a stadium.

“Yes you can!” You replied calmly. “Come sit here with me.” You patted the spot on the sofa next to you.

He was dressed in his outfit already, head to toe in a colourful combination of blue and yellow. He looked so pretty, clad with some glittery strawberries attached to his jacket - courtesy of you asking to have them added.

You were in joggers and a Love on Tour hoodie, because you had been ill this morning and couldn’t find the strength within you to get properly changed. Harry didn’t mind. If anything, he preferred you when you were dressed like this because it made cuddling so much easier.

“Will y’hold me?” He pouted, after rubbing his eyes free from tears. It made your heart sad to see him like this, but you knew just what would help him overcome this.

He came and sat next to you and you wrapped your arms around him to pull you close. He wrapped his arms around your waist and allowed his head to rest on your chest. His cheek was squished against one of your boobs and even though it was slightly uncomfortable you let him stay anyways.

“H?”

“Yeah?”

“When I was little I dreamed of a good bedtime story.” You began, listening to his breathing start to slow and his tears fade. “Unfortunately that was never on the cards for me. It can be, however, on the cards for this one.” You patted your belly lightly, knowing your baby was tucked safely away inside.

“I’m not sure I follow.” Harry said, placing his hand on top of your stomach regardless.

“I’m trying to explain that if you go on stage tonight and perform, on your own tour, in a stadium for the first time, imagine how epic that bedtime story would be.” You smiled, thinking about how Harry would be so excited taking this story in the future.

“That would be a cool story. And I do want to be a cool dad.”

You chuckled before answering. “So then go sing your heart out so you can create some amazing memories to share and pass on. Yes?”

Harry sat up, still sitting close to you. He hesitated, not knowing whether to reply first or give you a kiss but he ended up kissing you first. When it came to your lips there was no way that he could resist them - they were too soft and pretty.

“You’re pretty fucking amazing baby.”

You bumped into Harry’s body with too much force for it to not be an accident, which is why he turned around.

“Where’d y’go then?” He asked, knowing your brain had taken you to another planet momentarily.

“Just thinking about how proud I am that you’re doing all this.” Your smile beamed a thousand sunshines at him. His smile felt like more.

“Baby, I don’t particularly want to cry right now in the middle of a car park but I will if y’don’t behave yourself.” He laughed, bringing you into his side with his long arm and kissing you firmly on the top of your head.

He lead you both towards an awaiting car, which you instantly recognised as Harry’s. He loaded the suitcases in the boot and you stood around “being beautiful” as Harry called it. Jeff was also stood nearby, where another car waited for him.

“So are you going to your mums, H?” Jeff asked as Harry shut the boot.

“That’s the plan yeah. I’ll be at the stadium for around 9ish tomorrow morning, if that’s okay? Just want a night at home and I promised this one breakfast.”

He pulled you to his side, slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you tight against his back. You tucked your hands onto his arm that was held around your shoulders, rubbing your thumb softly over his tanned skin that was softer than a rug of velvet. He was oblivious to it, but he gently swayed you back and forth in his hold like he always does.

“Yeah no worries. Um, I think it’s going to be hot weather so just take care of yourselves. Both of you.”

“‘Course, yes.” Harry said whilst you nodded your head, knowing that you’d be in fact the one reminding Harry to keep hydrated rather than the other way around.

“Alright. See you too tomorrow. Don’t stay up too late now!” Jeff joked, walking to the drivers side of the car. Harry flipped him the bird in response.

As Harry walked you to your side of the car and opened your door for you, you couldn’t help but ask, “Gonna keep me up tonight, hm?”

“Talking to bubs and drawing patterns on y’belly with m’finger? Then yes?”

“Just as I thought.”

12PM - arriving home

“Oh shit! I forgot flowers for your mum.” You sighed.

Harry had just pulled up outside his mum’s house, leaving space on the drive in case she needed to move her car at any point.

The journey hadn’t been too long. You had thought you would need a nap, but as soon as Harry put on the ‘Beautiful World Where Are You’ book you were hooked. You’d listened to about half of it by the time you arrived and were very excited to finish it now.

“Mum doesn’t need flowers.” Harry laughed, bringing your hand that he had been holding all journey up to his lips to kiss softly.

“Every mum needs flowers, H.” You rolled your eyes.

“Noted.”

He squeezed your hand and that was the moment that you knew that your house was going to become a jungle of flora when this baby was born.

You climbed out of the car, not waiting for Harry to open the door for you - which he actually got upset about - before collecting your bags and walking up to Anne’s house. Harry already knew the front door would be open, because Anne often had so many guests coming in and out.

“Mum! I’m home!” Harry shouted through the house, hoping it would reach her.

“Oh!” You could both hear and excited squeal from somewhere within the house. “Did you bring my favourite daughter-in-law?”

“She’s your only daughter-in-law.” Harry mumbled under his breathe, to which you elbowed him in his side. He let out a groan and an angry face.

“That was for making me seem less special than I am.” You raised your eyebrows at him, moving around him to greet his mum before him.

Harry would never openly tell you this, but he actually did deserve that elbow to his ribs because what was he thinking turning you into something less special than you actually are. There was no denying you were the most precious human being in his life and he deserved any punches thrown his way to be claiming otherwise.

He smiled as he watched you and Anne go in for a bear hug, squeezing each other tightly after not seeing each other in a while. Anne often treated you like her second daughter, especially after hearing about your horrific childhood.

Harry made sure all the bags were in and the car was definitely locked, before closing the door behind him.

“And how’s my baby?” Anne asked, walking up to him and warmly kissing him on both his cheeks.

“Good. I’m doing well.” Harry nodded, smiling because he actually was happy and not putting it on.

“Have you had a haircut?” Anne asked Harry.

“Y/N/N did it for me the other day.”

Thinking back, it probably hadn’t been your greatest decision, since you were both slightly tipsy over a bottle of red wine, but he was sorted out later on and now he looked as gorgeous as always.

“Oh fuck.”

“Did y’just shave off my entire head of hair?” Harry giggled instead of being genuinely concerned.

“No. I forgot to water my cactus.”

“Who cares about y’cactus. Look after me first!” Harry was so clingy, like a small-child, when he was drunk but drunk-harry was one of your favourite genres for just that reason.

“If my cactus dies I will cut off all your hair.” You threatened him.

“And give me a buzzcut?”

“The annoying thing is you’ll probably look good with a buzzcut too.” You sighed, going back to cutting off tiny segments of hair that was too long. You weren’t a hairdresser by any remark, but Harry asked you to give him a drunk-trim and so here you were.

“Only ‘cause I’d wear it with confidence.”

“Or, just maybe, it’s because you’re hot.”

“Are y’complimenting me m’love?” Harry leaned his head back over the chair which he was sat on, because otherwise he’s too tall for you to reach.

“Only ‘cause you’re so pretty.” He hummed in appreciation and puckered his lips for you to give him a kiss. And you did.

“Good job.” Anne smiled and lead the way into the kitchen.

Before you could enter the kitchen after Anne, Harry pulled you back by the wrist and tugged you into his chest so fast that you didn’t even realise you were kissing his lips until a few seconds later. It surprised you that much that before you could get in to it, he pulled back in order to keep the PDA down to a minimum - as you liked it to be.

“What was that for?” You smiled cheekily.

“Just apologising, ‘cause y’are very special.”

5 PM - lounging around

The fire-pit was crackling away and the stars were out in their millions.

Everyone was sat outside on the garden sofas, underneath blankets and sipping glasses of wine to sounds of the soft jazz playing in the background.

Harry was sat in the corner section of the sofa, his long legs out in front of him, and you placed in between his legs and back resting against his front. You both had a blanket draped over you and Harry nursed his wine glass in one hand whilst softly tracing circles on your arm with his other. You were becoming more and more tired, but also more and more excited for tomorrow.

Gemma and Michal were over, along with Darren and Anne. It was just the closest members of the family for now and it was so lovely to chat to his family like this.

“Going to play Fine Line tomorrow H?” Michal asked, sitting close to Gemma whilst drinking a bottle of Corona instead.

“Not sure, y’know? Can’t help but think it needs to stay back in my previous era.” Harry replied, you feeling the soft vibrations from his words against your back.

“New beginnings and all that.” Darren nodded, understanding where Harry was coming from.

“Yeah.”

“Speaking of new beginnings, how’s the little one doing?” Anne asked, pouring herself another glass of red.

Harry’s hand immediately put down his own glass of wine, his priority now being on your tiny tiny baby bump. Once his attention was drawn to it, it was hard to steer him away. He loved being close to you even more now, because it meant being close to the baby.

“Good, yeah. Went to the doctors a few days ago and everything still seems good.” You nodded.

“Got an ultrasound picture an’ everything. It’s in m’wallet I’ll have to show y’later mum.” Harry’s smile beamed so bright it was close to being brighter than the fire in front of you all.

“Can’t believe I’m getting a grandchild finally.”

“I’m going to be such a good Aunt.” Gemma added and everyone agreed. “They are going to be spoilt rotten.”

“Especially since this one here is their dad,” You poked Harry on his cheek and his dimple only went wider. “Already has Alessandro and Harris on standby.”

There was no doubt that Harry was going to be the best dad to exist.

He obviously had the means to provide lovely clothes and a beautiful house and good education, but that wasn’t what was important to you. You wanted your child to grow up in a home where there was love filled every ceiling heigh and every basement low. You wanted no room to go without a smiling memory, because your child was going to have the happiest life.

Harry knew how much a good childhood upbringing meant to you and he was going to fulfil that to the best of his abilities. Heck, he didn’t know the first rule of being a dad but he sure as hell wasn’t going to quit if he face plants over the first hurdle. Harry wanted his child to be happy and loved and kind and you knew they would be.

“And your mum.” He reminded you.

“Mum is just going to knit tiny shoes and hats and mittens, whereas Harris will probably create runway inspired dresses.”

“And bub is going to look adorable in everything, especially y’mum’s knitted clothes.”

“I’ve still got all of Gem’s and H’s baby clothes if you want to have a rummage through them?” Anne asked.

“That would be amazing! Thank you.” You smiled warmly, overly excited about baby clothes now. “Now I just wish this one would come sooner.”

“Soon, m’love.” Harry kissed your forehead.

10 PM - bedtime routine

(smut after ***)

“Fuck. I’m so tired.”

Harry flopped onto the bed in just his boxers, them hanging very dangerously over his v-lines. There wasn’t a good enough word to describe how good he looked.

“We don’t have to go out for breakfast tomorrow.” You said, applying hand cream to your hands because they got dry when you were endlessly travelling.

“But I wanna take y’to this little café down the road.” He sighed, standing back up and walking into the bathroom. He pushed his hair out of his face with his hand and then used one of your headbands to keep his hair out of his face whilst he washed it.

He used some expensive looking soap and cream, but whatever it was worked beautifully because he has the most smooth and flawless skin you’d ever seen.

You put some toothpaste on your toothbrush and started brushing your teeth.

“I dwo wa yo to owerwok yosef.” You said with a mouthful of toothpaste, making Harry giggle from not understanding and causing you to obtain a toothpaste moustache.

“Whatever you say, honey.” He kissed your forehead, choosing to love on your lips later - when there’s not so much minty foam everywhere.

The two of you continued your routine together, Harry moving on to brushing his teeth as you made sure you’d used mouthwash to finish cleaning off your teeth.

Harry allowed you to apply his cream to his face, because he loved the feeling of your hands over him. He smiled when your thumbs pressed into the parts of his face that never really got touched, enjoying his free massage. You let him apply some Pleasing serum drops to your cheeks and temple, rubbing it in softly to let soak for the night.

“Y’did so well with these Pleasing products.”

“You know that I worked my hardest for it.”

“Not as hard as you had to work on grafting me after our breakup.” You teased, poking him on his side as you vacated the bathroom.

He left just after you, turning off the light and following you closely back to bed.

“Hey! Y’know I hate talking about that part of our story.” He pouted.

You both got into bed at the same time, Harry immediately cushioning you into his body. Sometimes you felt like you were his human teddy bear and all of the time you adored it. He didn’t cushion you as tightly anymore though, because he was aware of the baby inside your tummy now.

“Well it happened. And you know I forgive you. And you know that I love you.”

“Yeah, but I hate thinking back on a time when we weren’t always like this. Just doesn’t seem right.” He squeezed you a little tighter.

“Couples and relationships aren’t supposed to be stable. They are meant to have bumps and diversions, because in the end that’s what makes them stronger. Sure, we had a rough patch, but who knows if we hadn’t gone through that then would we still be about to have a baby together? Maybe not. In which case, thank you for breaking my heart when you did and thank you, also, for fixing it.”

Harry was silent and you were wondering whether he had gone to sleep, in which case what a knob. You lifted your head to see and he was staring back at you with so much love in his eyes it looked like it was ready to ooze out of him.

You smiled at him. He smiled at you.

“What?” You asked quietly, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek.

“I really need to love on y’right now, okay?” He asked and gently pushed you off of him and onto your back on the mattress.

***

“Are y’okay?” You furrowed your eyebrows with concern and he came to hover above you. He leant into your hand on his cheek and twisted his lips to the side to give you a gentle kiss to your palm.

“Just want to show y’how much I love you. Can I?”

“Of course y’can.” You smiled and leant up yourself to meet his lips with yours. It started off as a slow and loving kiss, but both of you were ready for each other - hungrily kissing each other wanting more and more.

Your lips moved in time with his and your chests met each others, your clothed top meeting his bare chest. One of his hands stayed pressed into the bed beside your head to keep him up, whilst his other cradled your jaw to keep your lips locked as closely to his as possible. He teased your mouth by biting slightly on your lower lip and you moaned in reply, allowing him to deepen his kiss and love on you more.

He moved his hand from your jaw and used it to push your body flat on the bed again, but you used your hand cupped around his neck to bring him down with you. You didn’t want a second away from his pretty lips, soft smacking sounds filling the room as you each got to taste one another. Your tongues worked against each other in a fight to see who could win.

Harry’s kisses started to move southwards.

He started kissing along your jawline, sucking on the one spot he knew made your toes curl. You moaned in delight and Harry to stop for a brief second, panting heavily as he hovered above you again.

“Y’need to be quieter baby. There’s people just down the hall. I know it feels good, but sshh.” He kissed your lips again, before you could nod.

When he moved to just above your collarbones you started to moan and whimper again and Harry knew if he wanted to carry on, which he really fucking did, then he would have to keep you quiet some other way.

He moved down your body and let the covers fall off you both, the room heating up anyway. He curled his tongue out of his mouth and bit on it slightly as he watched your body pant heavily beneath him. You looked spent already and he hadn’t even done anything. He was quick to dip his fingers in the waistband of your blue-lace panties and draw them down your legs, before coming back down to be closer to your face.

“If y’can’t keep quiet then I’m going to have to shut you up myself baby.” He said, stuffing your panties in your mouth. You rolled your eyes at how hotly he looked at you and how good it felt to have him feel against your now bare core.

He went back to kissing down your chest, over your tank top. He kissed and kissed until he decided he was too bored of the fabric covering you and instead pushed it up your chest so it exposed your perky breasts and over your arms until you were completely naked. He licked his lips quickly as he sat up on his knees to watch you below him.

Your breathing was erratic and your body was already going into overdrive.

“Fuck me, y’so pretty. Aren’t you?” He gawked at your body, licking a finger of his and then trailing it up your body, over your belly button and swirling your two nipples before finally bringing it up to your mouth. “Open.”

Your mouth complied the best it could and he stuck not one but two fingers in, pumping them in and out of your mouth as they got wetter against your dampening panties.

He took them out and went straight to your cunt, pushing both fingers inside of you slowly. Your mouth would’ve dropped open if it could, but instead your back just arched and your hands went up over your head as you tried to find something to hold on to. Luckily this bed-frame had bars at the top of the headboard, so your fists went to clench around two of them as Harry continued to pump his fingers in and out of you.

He smirked as he watched you try to hold it together.

He dipped his head down, leaving soft kisses on your belly for the little one, before giving you one last final look and then attaching his soft lips to your glisteningly wet pussy. He moaned in pure joy as he got a taste of you, sending tiny vibrations through your core and all over your body. Your held on tighter to the bars as Harry licked faster and harder, sucking all of you that he could. His fingers still pumped hard, thumbing over your clit when he pulled back from kissing it, turning you into a silent whimpering mess.

Your toes curled and back arched dramatically when you came, feeling so euphorically high. Your chest was heading as Harry rode you through your orgasm slowly, drawing out the endless pleasure. One of your hands went down to his head to try and push him away, but he was too insistent on staying attached to your cunt and licking every last drop of your release that you didn’t even love him an inch.

It was only when your body started going limp that his head sat up and looked up your body towards your face. You were a sweating mess, but looked beautiful regardless.

“M’good girl.” He smirked as he kissed your lips again sloppily, allowing you to taste what was left of you on his lips.

It was a perfect way to end your day.

•••

June 15th 2022

8 AM - breakfast date

The sun was already shining hard.

You were in a pretty white sundress and black Docs and Harry was in gym shorts and a Pleasing hoodie. You both didn’t really care to match with each other or even with the clothes you were individually wearing, because you were only on a breakfast run.

Hand in hand you walked down the road to the breakfast bar that Harry constantly loves to take you when he’s back home. One of Harry’s favourite activities is showing you around all the places he grew up in and explaining the stories that are tagged to the location.

“Y’look very pretty today.” Harry smiled at you and it smiled up at him. Just for that compliment, you leant up to give him a big kiss.

“Thank you.”

You walked a bit further before Harry got stopped by an woman.

“Harry? Is that you?” She spoke, taking her sunglasses off her eyes and up onto her forehead.

“Mrs Vernon?” Harry gasped, lifting up his own sunglasses and pulling away from you.

He went up to her and gave the woman a big hug and you stood by awkwardly smiling as you watched them greet each other. You weren’t sure who she was, but she clearly knows Harry in a way that makes her superior to him if he’s calling her by her second name. When they pulled away Harry didn’t instantly come back to your side.

“Oh, and this must be Y/N?” Mrs Vernon asked, tutting as she looked over you. You smiled at Harry nervously, but he nodded encouragingly.

The woman offered her hand out and you shook it politely.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You spoke shyly.

“You probably don’t know me but I was Harry’s teacher when he was a crazy 4 year-old child.” She laughed and Harry did too, whilst you made an ‘oh’ noise as you came to terms with understanding their relationship.

“Crazy? No!” Harry replied sarcastically, when both he and you knew he nothing but crazy as a child.

“I cut my mums entire back lawn with scissors one time.” Harry told you in one story.

“I saw m’mum dye her hair once and I wanted to do it too. So i took m’arts and crafts green paint and used it in my hair… Let’s just say I was pretty bald after that moment in my life.” In another.

“Oh and I used to sleep with my dog in his dog basket because I was scared he would get lonely.” That story you’d grown quite fond of.

“How are you doing though?” Mrs Vernon asked, standing in a more comfortable position.

You stood a bit closer to Harry, but behind him because you were still feeling slightly shy. You used your hands to attach onto his arm and he looked down at your briefly to check that you were actually okay.

“I’m really good! I’m actually back in Manchester ‘cause I have a show tomorrow and Thursday.” He explained.

“Yeah y’mum said. I saw her in, ooh where was it, um, I think Tesco’s the other day and we got to talking about you or whatever. Anyways she ended up inviting me and managed to get me and m’friend tickets.”

“No way! That’s amazing! Which night?” Harry asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“Ah, I’ll make sure to spot you out of the crowd.” He winked and she laughed. Little did she and you both know that he would actually succeed in finding her in the crowd.

“Yes. Alright, well I better get going and leave you too to it. Lovely meeting you Y/N.”

“And you.”

After she’d hugged Harry again and wandered off does the road, Harry let out a chuckle of disbelief. It was so rare that genuine people came up to Harry for genuine purposes, so seeing his old teacher must’ve been quite humbling and gratifying.

“That was weird.” He laughed through his words.

“Really?”

“Yeah. The last time I saw her was at a parents evening!” You both laughed at that as you continued walking down the road.

“Were you a good child? Or naughty?”

“I think I was just a bit wild. Then music made me more serious, at least at the beginning. And then I met you…” He squeezed your hand.

“…And you wish you could be wild again?”

“I mean you make me feel like that anyways, but you also give me purpose and responsibility and in a way I think I want and crave that more.”

After you too blushed it out some more with your back and forth compliments, you found the breakfast place to be closed so you ended up walking back to Anne’s and ordering a Starbucks Deliveroo.

Then it was onto the stadium.

11 AM - soundcheck

Harry had never smiled this much before.

He was stood on stage in a white t-shirt and some Bode shorts, whilst sound-checking his songs in preparation for tonight. He could hear the screams of fans whilst hearing him soundcheck.

You always believed that he would come to stadiums like these and perform for thousands of people, but you never thought it was make you as emotional as this. There were no crowds right now. Just you standing in an empty stadium, watching him rehearse and feeling nothing but sheer pride.

“Can Mitch play his section of song again please?” Someone said over a microphone and Mitch could be heard jamming over the loud speakers.

“Brilliant, yeah. Now Sarah hit the bass drum please.” Loud thumping beats came from the speakers and it sent volumes of energy right through your body. If this is how you felt now, you couldn’t begin to explain how you’d feel later.

“Now Harry, let’s go for Late Night Talking.”

You had walked closer to the stage, finding yourself somewhere within the GA pit at the front and you couldn’t help but begin to dance when Harry started singing. You could hear fans screaming and starting to sing with him and it was so exhilarating.

Harry stood at his mic to sing, but you knew later he would be running up and down and left and right along the stage. Once the adrenaline kicked in for him, there was no stopping him. Without a wired mic he was unhinged. In the best way possible.

Once he finished the section he had to sing you clapped and cheered, along with the fans outside the arena too. He laughed at you and fiddled with his in-ears to keep him from blushing.

You walked closer again, finding yourself in the Kitchen pod. You stood at the barricade and pretended for a moment how it would feel to be the fan that does get Kitchen pod barricade, because that would probably be life-changing. In your honest opinion though, you can have just as much fun at the back of the stage than you can the front. Possibly even more.

Harry made sure his mic was turned off before pretending to have a fan interaction with you.

“Hi, what’s your name?” He asked, holding out the palm of his hand in your direction whilst looking at you with a dopey smile.

“Y/N!” You shouted, not knowing whether he could hear you with his in-ears in.

“Alright, alright! Bloody hell, love! Louder than me with a mic.” He joked. “Y’having a good time tonight?”

“Yes!”

“Who did y’come with tonight?” He smirked.

You looked behind him briefly to see that the band were watching you two with love hearts in their eyes. People often said that just watching you and Harry have a conversation was like watching two hearts yearn for one another. You two were ridiculously in love that people wished they had what you two have.

“My husband.”

“Your husband?” He sniffled his nose in an effort not to blatantly smile. Every time you called him your husband he would automatically blush and start grinning from ear to ear. The man was whipped. “And where is he right now?”

“He ditched me to go sing karaoke or something.” You shook your head, pretending to me disappointed.

“Karaoke?” Harry scoffed, breaking character to raise his eyebrows to the fact you’d just compared his job to karaoke. “Not heard that one before. Any particular kind of karaoke?”

“Um… Harry-oke?”

To that Harry burst out laughing and unfortunately it was at the same time the microphone was turned back on, so his laughter echoed the arena and thousands of fans could be heard cheering on the other side. You put your hand over your mouth as you tried to stifle your laughter, but it was no use.

Harry was laughing so much that his eyes started to tear up, having to cough into his arm when he overdid it on the laughing. He titled his head back whilst he stopped pacing to let out a few last chuckles, before coming to a stop and breathing calmly again.

“Babe. It wasn’t that funny.” You laughed as you shook your head over his silly antics.

“Yes it was. Y’do make me laugh good, baby!”

“Oi! Harry! Stop flirting with y’wife and start singing!” Harry got told off by one of the sound producers and he rolled his bottom lip in pretend terror.

You shook your head and remained leaning against the barrier as you watched him perform Late Night Talking again. This evening he would have to make eye contact with over 50,000 people, yet right now he was only looking at you.

6 PM - pham’s photography

It was currently golden hour.

The sun was setting behind the beautiful harrie-filled stadium and the view couldn’t be more perfect.

Harry had been getting his hair and outfit on, whilst you stood staring out across the field of people and simply thinking. It was impossible to form words about a view like this. It was impossible to form words about how proud you were of Harry. It was simply impossible to wrap your head around the fact that this was actually real.

You had been vlogging for quite a bit of the day, wanting to make sure you had good footage for these shows since they were Harry’s home shows. You were creating a ‘Love On Tour - Tour Diaries’ series on your YouTube channel and the fans were loving it so much.

It had started as a poll on your Instagram, asking whether anyone would be interested and so many people voted yes to the point where the poll was 99% yes and 1% no.

The Glasgow vlog has been a real success with thousands of positive comments still filtering in.

user1: i hope y/n posts these videos for every single tour date because they make my heart so happy

user2: the fact i feature in this vlog…. and harry might watch it I CANT BREATAHSHAJSHSHAHQ

user3: the part where harry walks in on y/n filming backstage with two cups of tea and starts talking because he doesn’t know y/ns filming… like THAT’S what he’s like behind the cameras and i will now kms

user4: y/n>>>>>>>>

user5: can harry hire y/n as his full time videographer like that would be great please and thanks

You smiled at how much love Love On Tour was creating.

When you felt his arms snake sound your waist you breathed in his heavenly scent. He smelt fresh and clean, no doubt in preparation to just sweat it all off again when he steps foot on stage.

“Y’okay?” He asked quietly, even though it was just you two and Pham in the room.

Harry had asked Anthony to take some backstage photos of him before the show, but before that he wanted some candid photos with you. You weren’t even aware that Pham was in the room, but that helped the photos look more candid in the end.

“Missed you.” You snuggled back against his hold, both of you looking out at all the people.

“I was gone for like an hour.”

“Too long. I hate sharing you.” You pouted, feeling like wanting a bit more attention right now.

“Baby, y’gonna have to share me with over 50,000 people tonight though.” He chuckled, kissing the top of your head.

“Hmm.”

Harry didn’t like that answer, so he let go of your briefly to walk in front of you and block your view of the audience. He made sure that your face was looking at his, your eyes making contact with his. You could tell he was trying to make you feel better by the tiny dimple and crinkles by his eyes, a sign he was going soft on you.

His arms snaked underneath your armpits so that he could bring you in for a hug, allowing your cheek to rest against his chest. You sighed heavily and allowed your arms to reach around his middle to hug him back, scrunching the material of his t-shirt tightly in your fists to hold on a little tighter.

“Y’gonna tell me what’s got you upset?” He asked softly, not pressuring you at all.

Anthony silently left the room after he asked that, feeling like it was not his place to stay for this conversation. Harry would call him back in a bit when he wanted some more photos, but for now his focus was on you.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know whether you want to tell me or you don’t know what’s got you upset?”

You shook your head, not knowing how to answer. You could feel tears forming in your eyes and it was getting harder to hold them in.

“Cry if you want you cry, baby. I’ve got you.” He said so softly, it could’ve been passing breeze of wind.

Your body overcame with a few small sobs then and you allowed some tears to fall. Your body was shaking in Harry’s arms, but he made no effort to loosen his hold on you. His hands started rubbing small patterns on your back and shushing you calmly to get you to soften your cries.

“M’sorry.”

“Nothing to apologise for. Nothing. Just want to know you’re alright. Y’know I hate to see you cry.” He kissed the top of your head a few times to remind you that he was still here.

“Just feeling so overwhelmed.” You breathed out, pulling your face away from his chest to look at him.

Harry’s thumbs wiped under your eyes to clear them of tears and kept you close to him for comfort. “Okay. Can y’tell me why?”

“I’m… it’s just i’m so proud of you and I love you so much, Harry, like, I don’t even think I understand by just how much, but I do. Um, and I never thought I’d ever feel like this and I guess it just hit me today seeing all these people here for you. I’m just… overwhelmed, like I said.”

“Thank you for letting me in.” He kissed your forehead first, letting his lips linger longer than just a quick second. As he pulled back you noticed tears in his own eyes and he had to blink them shut tight a few times to stop himself from properly crying.

“Are you okay?” You asked him this time.

“Just, fuck— i’m just so proud of you for expressing yourself like that to me. You’ve come so far baby. God, you’re going to make me look terrible by the time I go on stage if I can’t stop crying over you!” You both laughed in admiration. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Then he leaned down to take your lips in his, pushing against you with all his strength so that he could get as good a taste of you as he possibly could. He’d never loved someone as much as you and he enjoyed tasting your love for him all over your lips. You both whimpered as you kissed each other, desperate to stay attached to one another for as long as possible.

When he pulled back he looked into your eyes before kissing you again, moving his hand down your spine and resting it on your lower back. Your hand curled around the back of his neck in order to bring him closer to you. You both poured so much love over each other, like lava being tipped from a kiln - only you would burn in fire for him and his lips.

“I want to cry all over again. I don’t think I’ve ever loved you as much as I do right now.” You said, pulling away from his pink lips to let him know.

“I say that to myself every single minute, of every single day, of my fucking life. As corny as it is to say, you are the only reason why I still believe in love and, well, I fucking adore you for that.”

8:30 PM - pre-show butterflies

Harry was stood in a circle with his band, whilst they gave each other a pep-talk before the show starts.

The band were surprisingly very calm, Mitch keeping his genuine cool as always. Harry though, was very tense. You could see it in his shoulders and the way his eyebrows were getting closer to becoming permanently knitted together.

After they’d spoken with each other, Harry went and stood to one side away from everyone else. You didn’t go over to him straight away, respecting the fact that he might want a moment alone.

“I think he’s nervous.” Sarah popped up beside you.

“Yeah, me too. I’m not overly sure why though.” You twisted your lips in thought, looking to Sarah to see if she had any clue.

“He said something about the fact the wants the show to be good enough to repeat as a bedtime story? I don’t know, he just seems off.” Sarah shrugged her shoulders and you sighed in relief, understanding potentially what could be wrong.

You walked over to him and stopped in front of him. “You want to talk to me?” You offered, smiling a small smile that you hoped would be comforting and reassuring.

“I don’t know what’s wrong. Feel weird inside. In here.” He pointed to both his stomach and his heart.

You nodded and got closer to him so you could wrap your arms around his middle, giving him as warm a hug as he wanted. He squeezed you tightly back, so it was clear that he was in need of this particular hug. Pulling back, you pulled his top down slightly, thanks to the stretchy material, and kissed his skin over his heart hoping it would calm it down.

“Kisses make everything better.” You explained your logic, before putting his top back to where it was sitting previously. You would’ve taken up his shirt and kissed his stomach too, but you knew that Harry ran off adrenaline for his tour shows so you didn’t want him to lose them for a kiss.

“Especially from you.”

“Don’t overwhelm yourself, H. If you go out there and give your genuine 101% then no on can ask for more. If you go out there and give 80% then it just means that the next show will be bigger and better and that’s just as exciting. You can’t expect yourself to be at your best for every show, that’s not how it works. Your fans know that too. You were brilliant in rehearsals. Amazing in Glasgow. Now this is a home crowd, H, baby. A home crowd. It doesn’t get more special than that.”

He smiled at you and sniffled once, shaking his head lightly from side to side. “I couldn’t be doing any of this without you, lovie. Thank you.” He leant down to kiss you, both of your lips moving in sync for the last time for a few hours.

“Now go make Manchester crazy, then come back to me and we’ll see about having that rom-com marathon.”

And so he started pacing backstage before Sushi.

10:15 PM - post-concert shenanigans

Harry stood on stage blowing kisses off his fingers towards the crowd and you couldn’t stop crying.

Your heart was beating so fast.

Tears streamed down your cheeks.

Harry bowed to the fans as they waved him goodbye. Most of those fans might never see him again, so to some of them this could be a forever goodbye. You never want to imagine a day where you have to say goodbye to him. He is the centre of your world and everything else orbits perfectly in your life because of him.

Harry blew some final kisses and waved a few more times, before sprinting off stage.

You watched as the Love Band left shortly after and the lights went down on the stage set. You had to breathe out a heavy sigh from how overwhelming that had been to just watch, let alone what Harry must be feeling after performing through it.

“Y/N, sweetheart, are you okay?” Anne asked, resting a hand on your shoulder. She was concerned that all these heightened emotions weren’t healthy for you, or the baby, and Anne had promised her son that she’d take care of you both.

“I’m okay.” You nodded sadly, sitting back down in your seat after standing for so long.

You stared at the vacating audience, not able to contain your sobs. Gemma came and sat down on the other side of you, pulling you in for a hug that you could rest your head on her shoulder for. Gemma of all people would understand, just like Anne, because when you’ve known someone for so long and understand how important this moment means to them that sort of then reflects onto you. It’s all very shattering.

“I know you’re feeling overwhelmed right now, Y/N/N, but you have to listen to me when I tell you to calm down.” Gemma spoke softly.

“S-Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. I don’t know how I’m keeping it together myself, to be honest!” Gemma, much like her brother, loved using humour as a tactic to calm someone down or un-serious a situation.

“I’m just so p-proud.”

Gemma nodded and hummed in agreement. Your cries had softened now, with help of Gemma’s soft voice and comforting hug. You breathed out a shaky breath and wiped your hands over your eyes, when you phone vibrated.

H💓💐: I heard someone needs a hug? I’m on my way xx

Harry was originally supposed to be in a car immediately after the show, to avoid any fans spotting him and crowding him, for both his and their safety, but now instead it seemed he was making his way to you. Something no doubt his security were fuming about.

You were going to meet Harry back at Anne’s house and you were all going to have a celebratory glass of fizz to cheers the night away, but all you wanted now was a cuddle with H and nothing more.

“C’mon let’s get ready to go.” Gemma said from beside you, standing up herself and gathering her belongings. You nodded in agreement and started collecting your own things.

Once you moved inside the building, after being sat on the terrace, you noticed just how many members of Harry’s family were here along with friends too. It was so amazing to see so many people here to support him. It was a reminder that it wasn’t just you and him in this world, even though you sometimes wished it was.

A loud round of applause echoed the room, along with some wolf-whistling. You could only best assume it was Harry.

And it was.

He was making his way through the crowd, quickly thanking people and saying hello. He told others he would be back in a minute, he just needed to find someone. His security stayed at the door, knowing this was a safe place for him to be, as he weaved through the crowd of people in an effort to find you. Unfortunately for him you were all the way closest to the outside door, but he honestly didn’t care.

As long as he got to you, he would be okay.

As soon as he spotted you your eyes started watering again and you had to fan your face to keep it from it exploding with tears again. Before you could cry though, Harry brought you into his chest with his arms, covering you the best he could. Your arms stayed close to your own chest and your sniffles began. Harry’s cheek squashed itself down onto the top of your head after giving you a multitude of pretty kisses.

“Hey, hey. Ssh I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He whispered to you and no one else.

Even though it was a very private moment in a very public room, you still felt like you and Harry were alone. He made you feel like you were the only person ever and it made you feel extremely special.

Anne was secretly taking a few photos of the two of you, because even though it was an embarrassing moment for you they turned out to be your most favourite photos ever. It was a moment that symbolised a historic moment in Harry’s history.

“I-I love you s-so much. So proud o-of you.” You hiccuped, staying close into his chest.

“Thank you, bub. That means a lot coming from you, baby.”

“Thought you’d be the emotional one, not me.” You laughed, embarrassed slightly.

“Hey if you need to cry, you know i’ll always be here for you to cry on.”

He squeezed you a little tighter and your heart grew a little bigger.

You leaned your head back and looked at him in awe. His forehead was sweaty and his hair was a complete mess, but he’d never looked more perfect to you. He smiled a grin at you and you couldn’t help but give him one back, both of you having a loving silent conversation with the twinkles in your eyes.

12 AM - late night talking

“Babe? Will y’fill a glass of water for me please?”

Harry asked as he took the bin outside to throw away.

Everyone was back home now. You two staying the night at Anne’s again. Harry has apologised that he couldn’t stay and talk to people, but people were very understanding and made him promise a few beers when he was next back home.

Harry had driven you both home, luckily managing to escape the car park in enough time to beat the traffic. You dreaded to think what time the last fan out of the stadium would be home.

After having some tea and toast, you’d gotten ready for bed and then came and watched the news headlines with Anne. After saying goodnight to one another you and Harry were just sorting some last few bits in the kitchen, before you both too would head to bed.

You poured Harry a glass of water and watched him come in to lock the door. He guided you out of the kitchen and turned off the lights, moving to the front of the house to turn on the alarm whilst you walked upstairs to the bedroom.

About ten minutes later you were both tucked up in bed and absolutely exhausted. Your loud yawn was a sign of that.

“Tired baby?”

“Just a little. Don’t know how you do it, H.”

“I guess the fans drive me. Knowing there is at least one new person at my shows every time, makes me want to go out there and put on the best performance of my life just for them. That might be their only chance to see me, so best make it worth their while.” He explained and you smiled with pride.

“Since when did you become so wise, hmm?”

“You’re rubbing off on me, that’s what.” He tickled your side, making you giggle.

Harry laid on his back whilst you were curled into his side, your ear getting to hear the steady rhythm of his heart beating. Your hand rested on his bare chest, softly tracing the outline of his moth tattoo like you often did - he told you it helps lull him to sleep quicker.

“Out of 10, how would you rate that show then?”

“9.7 maybe. I just… I was so nervous that I wasn’t too into every single word of every single song. Tomorrow I think i’ll be better.”

“Well y’couldn’t tell. You were a rockstar up there tonight.” You moved your head very slightly to kiss his chest and you felt his arm briefly tighten around you in thanks.

“And how does it feel to be dating a rockstar?”

“Dating?”

“Y’know what I mean. Married, dating, same thing.”

“No they’re not.” You playfully whacked him on his chest and he giggled like a child. “Don’t think y’can say we’re dating when we haven’t gone on a date in like a month.”

“I’m slacking, God, sorry.” He sighed.

You shook your head before continuing. “You know that I would rather have moments like this with you, than eating Spaghetti at a fancy restaurant.”

“Me too.” He kissed the crown of your head.

“Although if y’do want to take me on a date, I won’t be opposed to it.”

“Maybe I’ll take you to the top of the Eiffel Tower, when we’re in Paris, and we can share a baguette together.”

“Harry that is so stereotypical.” You playfully hit his stomach as you laughed.

“Or when we go to Italy, we can have pizza and red wine along the beach front.”

“Think i’ll be too far along to drink by that point, H.” You brought his hand to your own stomach and allowed him to rest it there. Sometimes he didn’t like touching your bump without consent, because it could get a bit uncomfortable what with touching you there all the time.

“Then we can share a lemon iced water.”

“Mm sounds amazing.” You hummed in delight.

“Anything to keep you happy and this one safe.” Harry snuggled tighter into you and you could tell he was on the verge of falling asleep.

“You make me happy just by existing.”

•••

June 16th 2022

12:00 PM - meeting the fans

Today was an absolute scorcher.

The layers of suncream felt like it was doing nothing against your skin and you had to opt for an airy dress in order to remain as cool as possible.

Whilst Harry was in rehearsals, you decided to take a look at the area that the fans would be in for later. The fans weren’t let in until 1:30 PM so you still had plenty of time before you’d have to disappear for safety reasons. There were a tonne of food carts, selling burgers and chips and ice-creams. The food looked delicious, but you were also too nervous to eat and stomach anything.

Harry had been worried about you this morning, because you had thrown up a lot and yet you had barely eaten in the past few days to be doing so. He sat with you on the cool tiled bathroom floor for at least an hour, which is why he appeared late to the venue this morning.

“H, you have to go. You’re going to be late.” You sighed, resting your forehead against the toilet seat.

Harry sat just a little behind you after tying your hair up in a low bun with one of his hairbands. He was stubborn to a fault, just as you were, so he rolled his eyes when you spoke.

“I don’t give a fuck. Not when you’re like this.”

“I’ll be oka…” You stopped mid sentence to start throwing up again, pure liquid filtering out of your system. It was disgusting, but this is what a mixture of being pregnant and having potential heatstroke looked like.

“You were saying?”

After watching you eat a dry cereal bar, Harry felt better and only then allowed the two of you to leave for the stadium. Anne and the rest of the family would meet him at the venue later as there was no point in waiting around all day. You felt sorry for the fans that did have to queue around all day and especially in this heat too. It was exhausting just being out in it for a minute, let alone hours and hours on end.

Just when you were rounding the corner you spotted all the fans queueing up behind the stage, ready to be let in. They were clearly here for early entry or one of the pods - at least that is what Harry had told you. When one of them spotted you they shouted your name and before long there was a whole crowd of them screaming. You alerted the security guard, who Harry had made you take with you, that you were going over there and he nodded.

You took out your vlogging camera and started recording them as you got closer. They all cheered louder and waved towards your camera. Once you had some good montage footage you put your camera down so you could speak to them.

“Hi! How are you all?” You asked, standing not too close to them like Harry had taught you just in case someone grabbed you. It wasn’t always something that you had to be aware of, but especially now that you’ve got your little one growing inside of you you have to be extra careful - and the fans are unaware of your pregnancy so far.

“We’re so excited!”

“Yeah, buzzing!”

“Is this your first time seeing Harry?” You asked.

“This is my eleventh.” Someone said, causing you to catch sight of some people rolling their eyes.

“This is my first.” Someone else said and you smiled at how excited they look.

“Is it okay if I film us having a conversation for my vlog?” You asked, always checking for consent.

“Of course!” That girl said and a bunch of other girls gasped and squealed for them.

You held out you vlogging camera to get you and the girl in the frame, noticing some of the other girls were trying to poke their heads in the background. They knew that Harry watched all your videos so this was their way of getting a Harry notice. It was like trying to be in a photo that Pham took.

“Wait what’s you name sorry?” You asked, before pressing record.

“Orla.”

You pressed record. “So, Orla! How does it feel to be seeing Harry for the first time?” You asked, smiling at them rather than directly at the camera. You’d learnt that it makes you look more real and genuine when you filmed it this way.

“Not real? Like I know he’s real and stuff, but I also don’t believe that. Like I won’t believe he’s real until I see him with both eyes.” They explained and you nodded your head like you understood.

“I still get that feeling too.” You laughed and others around you did too. “And what song are you most looking forward to?”

“If I say Fine Line will he play it?” Orla asked.

“It’s Harry….” You said, knowing Orla would understand. That man was such a tease that it didn’t matter whether or not someone wanted something, he would only do what made him happiest on stage. He was kind of a queen for that.

“Ok, so I’ll say Matilda instead.”

You smiled a sad smile, your mind going straight to how Orla might have a similar backstory to you and how impactful that song can be to people like you. For the camera though you tried to put on a better smile, because you knew when Harry watched this at a later date he was going to be annoyed at himself for not being here to give you a hug at a sad moment. Matilda was your favourite song to listen to too, just because it was so personal and raw. Harry told his creative director that he didn’t care what other songs went on the setlist as long as Matilda was on there. For you.

“Good choice.”

9:30 PM - on-stage shoutout

“Now,” Harry spoke into his microphone, dragging the wire behind him so he didn’t trip. “Let’s talk boyfriends.”

The crowd screamed so loudly and you had to take your camera out to record it all.

“Who’s ever had a boyfriend?”

Deafening screams. You whooped in the background too.

“Who’s never had a boyfriend?”

The screamed were even louder that time.

“Who’s ever been a boyfriend?”

The screams were very minimal. Harry booed into the microphone too, making people laugh.

“Who never wants a boyfriend?”

Those were the loudest screams.

“I gather you’re all screaming because boyfriends are trash. They never treat their person right and you can always count on them letting you down. Luckily for me I’m a husband not a boyfriend.” He cheekily smiled and pretended to flip his hair over his shoulder.

You shook your head and smiled at how silly he was. Other people around you cheered for you and him, whilst others simply watched on.

The crowd went crazy when he spoke and then they started chanting your name, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!”

You put your hand over your mouth, trying so hard not to cry again. Gemma took your camera off of you to get both both you, the crowd and the stage in shot. You laughed as people continued to chant your name - all over 50,000 of them.

“Ooh, ooh, ooh!” Harry bent his arm at the elbow and pumped it up and down in the air, barking for you as people chanted your name.

This was so wild for you.

“Yes, Y/N is m’wife,” The crowd screamed again, “Up there someone, I think.” Harry pointed in your general direction and you waved to the crowds below. You laughed at how crazy everyone was going for you, never thinking that this kind of experience would ever happen to you.

The stage screens suddenly lit up with a view of you, a camera somewhere obviously having found your face. You cringed as you saw yourself, bending over to try and hide the view of you. People screamed for you louder then and Harry turned around to catch sight of you on the big screen. Later in TikToks people would see Harrys face light up at the sight of you.

fan1: did you see his face? fucking hell that man is so whipped for y/n

fan2: it’s the way my boyfriend has never looked at me like that ever….

fan3: look at y/n going all shy and that only making harry grow in awe of them more

“Ayyee!” Harry shouted into the microphone when he saw you. “That’s my wife!” He pointed at you on the big screen happily, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Alright Y/N/N this one’s for you. Sorry I’m not always the greatest boyfriend, but every day I grow and learn from you. For you.”

Then the guitar strums came in for Boyfriends.

11:00 PM - home

“You did it.”

Both of you were now snuggled up in bed again, just talking about the days events and how epic the past few days had been. What was even greater was that it wasn’t just stopping here, because it Wembley in a few days time and that was only going to be more electric.

“I did it.” Harry smiled, chuffed with himself.

“We’re so proud of you.”

“I’m glad you’re here. Both of you.” He rested a soft hand on your belly.

“Thank you for everything. But most importantly, thank you for always coming home to us.”

“Always.”

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miss-spookhead · 19 days

Text

thinking about a Blast From the Past steddie au tonight. like, think about it for a second--steve as the sweet, well-meaning himbo raised in a fallout shelter and eddie as the cynic who shows him the world as it is:

The year was 1962, and an atomic bomb had just dropped on top of the Harrington household.

Okay, not really. It was actually a fighter jet that suffered a mechanical failure just above the little plot of land the Harringtons called their home, but Walter Harrington took it differently. Far differently.

See, the thing was that the man was living in a state of paranoid delusion over the Cold War--terrified of the possibility of an outright nuclear holocaust over the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Soviet Union. He had been carefully building a fallout shelter under his home for his wife and possible children to live in with the works--canned food, running water, and even a working television.

And one day they went in and simply never left. The explosion right when they closed the door was tangible proof that the nuclear war was happening right above them.

A few years later, around 1968, a baby boy was born in a fallout shelter with no one but his mom and dad to keep him company.

They raised Steve the best they could, even if Walter Harrington was a mad genius and Madeline Harrington was a borderline alcoholic. Even if the boy was living in a perfect little time capsule of the fifties and early sixties. Walter made sure to educate him right and teach him how to be a sociable gentleman--even if he had no idea what swear words or the concept of sex were. That was for another time. Although, twenty-four years came and went for Steve Harrington, his father still owes him 'another time'.

Steve Harrington grows twenty-four years in perfect seclusion, but that changes at the flick of a switch.

The year is 1992: supplies are dwindling Walter is growing sick, and Steve is tasked to bravely set foot in the nuclear fallout to retrieve more material. (The only reason why Walter assumes they can even get more stuff is because he observed the outside world when the shelter unlocked and mistook it as a post-apocalyptic mutant society.)

The moment Steve made it outside his little bubble, he was utterly fascinated by the world--how different the people were outside of his television and his little books, how bright the sky was outside, how the irritable man on the bus wouldn't accept the money he tried to give him, how the bus moved and didn't fling him right off his seat.

(He even saw an adult bookstore. Dad told him that those things were filled with poisonous gas. How were they even to operate if they were filled with poisonous gas? That's dangerous and totally inconsiderate of the general public's safety.)

Anyway, he tries to follow the grocery list that Mom and Dad gave him the best he can, stocking up on poultry and tissue paper and the works. But by the end of the day, he doesn't know where he came from. Not a single sign or building or person can give him a single clue where to go.

After a few hours of wandering, suitcase in hand, he comes across a store with WE BUY BASEBALL CARDS written on the window.

Golly, Steve loves baseball cards--could look at Dad's collection for hours, and with the collection he has, he could make a pretty penny selling them for supplies. Despite the little hobby store being beside an adult bookstore with poisonous gas, he scampers right in.

"I see you're looking to buy baseball cards," he says breezily to the gruff, scary-looking man behind the counter.

"That I am," he replies.

Steve pulls a few from his jacket's inner pocket. "Well, these are a bit old, you see, but I was hoping you still might be interested."

The gruff man yanks them from his hands, a spark in his eye. He looks delighted to see them, and it fills Steve with an excitement he hadn't felt at all today. Nobody has been this happy over something he's done today. "Woah," he gasps, then covers it with a cough. "Mickey Mantle rookie season...how much do you want?"

"I was hoping to sell all of my cards, actually!"

The man sputters incredulously. "All of 'em? Are you fucking with me?"

"I'm not sure what that means, but all I have are hundred-dollar bills and I need something smaller. Like, uh...ones, tens, fives..."

"Tell you what, I'll give you five hundred in small bills for all you got."

Steve smiles brightly. "Oh, that would be wonderful, sir--"

"Five hundred for a case-full of rookie season Mickey Mantles, Rick, are you fucking joking?" A deep voice cuts through Steve's thanks from the other side of the small store. He turns around to find a man leaning against a magazine rack, arms folded sternly.

The man is unlike Steve's ever seen before. Long, long limbs and big brown eyes that look traced with black and smudged around the edges. Pretty lips, too almost girl-ish, in the way they were big and plush like the women he'd see on the television. The strangest thing about him, though, was the curly hair that tumbled past his shoulders.

He looked mad, though. Madder than mad.

"Tell the poor guy you're fucking with him," long-hair-pretty-lips says to the man behind the counter, who bristles.

"Were you raised in a fucking barn, Munson? Who told you to interrupt on business?" Rick counters. Steve was really not appreciating the amount of f-words dropped in the conversation, it was uncouth.

"Sure I was!" Munson saunters towards the counter and Steve's eyes follow him like a moth to a light. "But my morals go past your business practices at this point. You remember the ninth commandment, yeah?"

"You shut your Goddamn mouth--"

"Excuse me sir, but I really don't appreciate how you're using the Lord's name in vain like that," Steve says firmly.

"See?" Munson smiles. It's like sunlight. "He gets it."

He plucks the baseball card from Rick's hand and holds it over his head when he tries to reach for it again. "See this little thing?" He says to Steve sweetly. "This guy costs six grand alone."

"Get out of town! Really?"

"Oh yeah, big guy. Selling the thing would give you a small fortune, and Rick over here is trying to con you out of it."

Steve frowns. "Is that true?" He asks Rick.

"Nothing but," Munson says in place of him. He slips the card back into Steve's hands and gives them a pat.

"The Hell is even keeping you here, Munson?" Rick sneers. "Did the gig you won't shut up about fall through like they usually do? Better to bum it out here than in your shithole apartment? Stop loitering in my damn store and make like a fucking tree. You're banned."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Munson says rolling his eyes. He looks at Steve, then the door, gesturing at it with a flick of his head. "I'll see you out, Beaver."

He walks them both out the door, stopping to gesture at Rick strangely--hands balled into fists with only his middle fingers up--before stepping outside onto the sidewalk.

"Well merci, Monsieur," Steve says appreciatively, because Dad taught him French was always to be used on such occasions.

"What, you're French?"

"Oh no, I'm"--he thinks back to what Dad told him if a mutant asks where he's from. Gosh, he thinks he's supposed to be--"out on business."

"And you don't even have a clue about the little business trick that Rick tried to pull?"

"No...no, I--"

"Yeah, doesn't matter." Munson shrugs. He smiles sympathetically at Steve before turning on his heel and walking off. Oh boy, what would he do without him?

He follows him like a lost puppy, that's what.

"...You going the same way?" Munson asks incredulously. Steve shakes his head.

"Well, I'm following you."

Munson stops in his tracks, blinking, and Steve almost runs into him in his state. "Me?"

"Well yes! Where are we going?"

"We?" Munson asserts. "I'm going back to my shithole apartment, and judging by that jacket you're wearing, you should be taking the next left and hop-skipping straight to the barber college."

"Oh, I'm lost, though."

"Aren't we all?"

"Say, did you just get banned from that hobby store because of me?" Steve says to change the subject.

Munson sighs. "Seems like I did, sailor. The place was shitty anyways, with that dickhead running the operation. Wayne could get better cards from a different joint."

...dickhead? Steve's never heard that leave the seams of anyone's lips before. "Dickhead?"

"Yeah, he's a real fucking loser. A walking talking penis capable of human speech."

Steve gets queasy at the image he's concocted in his head. He leans against the nearest brick wall, his suitcase tumbling to the ground as he drops into a contemplative squat.

"Dude, what is wrong with you?"

"Well, the mental image that I..."

Munson's eyebrows scrunch before he reaches out a hand to Steve. He takes it, letting the man haul him upward. "Look, man, where'd you park your car?"

"I came by bus."

"Aren't you full of surprises."

"I am?"

"Okay look." Eddie raises his hands, palms splayed in the air. "It's your first time in Los Angeles, right? Everyone wants a taste of it, I know, and you're out for business and fucking famished. You got the opportunity to see the great big world outside of your little bubble and you got excited--but you took a bus and got mixed up in the middle of San Fernando Valley without a clue in the world. Am I correct?"

Steve listens in wonderment. So far, Munson's been correct in a way. He's convinced he might be psychic. He nods slowly and seriously just to see Munson flash that lighting-strike smile.

"Great, great. Which brings us to here. Correct again?"

"Oh yeah."

"Where are you staying?"

Nowhere, at the moment. Steve opens his mouth to say so, but Munson interrupts quickly. "Holiday Inn?"

"Yes, the Holiday Inn!" Steve says totally truthfully.

"Okay, cool. Cool." Munson claps his hands together with finality and starts walking. "The nearest bus station is a couple of blocks away if you take a right--"

"Don't you have a car?"

Munson stops in his tracks again. He turns to face Steve once again. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Something warm pools in Steve's gut at the pet name. Something about the way those pretty lips form that word sends blood rushing to his cheeks. "Steve," he says.

"Alright, Steve." Oh boy, his name sounds even better when Munson says it. "Rule number one in Los Angeles? Never let a stranger drive you anywhere."

"If it makes you feel any better," Steve says sweetly, "I don't have a gun."

Munson pales, then starts running.

"Hey!" Steve cries and makes haste to follow him. "I must've said something wrong, please forgive me!"

"Nope, nope--get the fuck away from me, man!"

He grabs Munson's wrist to pull him back, which is a bad move since the man starts writhing around in his grip. "I'm not going to hurt you, sir!"

Steve drops Munson's hand and raises his in surrender. "See?"

"...Just let me get to my car."

"I'll give you a Rogers Hornsby if you take me to my hotel," Steve reasons.

Munson stills. "...That's like four grand, don't bullshit me."

He pulls the card from his jacket and presents it as evidence. "See? I was holding it back." He wants Munson to feel safe. "I got two." He reaches for the other cards in his pockets and pulls them out. "And-and all these other ones, too!"

"Okay, okay. You'll give me four thousand dollars if I drive you to your place?"

"Uh-uh!"

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"And I don't have to give you a quickie in the backseat or anything?"

"Yes sir--wait, what?"

Munson blows past his question like it didn't even leave Steve's mouth. "Can you stop with the sir crap?"

"Well, I'm sorry, sir--"

"My name is Eddie."

Eddie...Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Wow, what a name. It's almost like something he's heard on the television.

"Why, it's nice to meet you, Eddie."

"Tolerable to meet you too, Steve."

Steve smiles shyly, then asks, "So are you a girl?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well it's just your hair...it's so long." Steve points at his as an example. "I've never seen anything like it before."

"Dude, it's 1992, every other guy looks like this--have you been living under a rock or something?"

Something like that. Steve shrugs.

"Well guys having long hair doesn't mean that they're girls, Steve, that's a given. It's not 1962 anymore." Eddie backtracks. "Well, I mean, dudes can have long hair and be chicks and chicks can be dudes too but that's not--"

"Oh, wow, my dad told me about one of those the last time he went here!"

"Oh that's fantastic, sweetheart," Eddie says, sugary-sweet. "But how about I drive you home?"

"That'd be a pleasure, Eddie."

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our-destiny · 1 year

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Day 10 of @creativepromptsforwriting's 30 Days Writing Challenge - Use the title: Promises made, promises kept

A/N: Stalker Bucky is back! This is a part 2 to Day 6's prompt - write about a blackout. I kind of don't like it and it feels very cringey and also doesn't really match the prompt but I tried :']

Content / Trigger Warnings: Stalking, breaking and entering(?), reader has terrible flight or fight instincts and the ending is disgusting -If I missed any please let me know

I am not responsible for the media you consume, read the warnings, minors DNI

30 Days Writing Challenge Masterlist

Word count: 887

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"You're all mine."

You haven't seen James since that night, well you haven't seen him at all, actually. When the power came back on James walked out the door and you were too scared to turn around and see what he looked like. So, his appearance is still a mystery but he hasn't been back to talk to you for three weeks, he hasn't even left you a note and the feeling of being watched is less prominent. Maybe he's finally stopped stalking you and found someone else to torment. That night still plays heavy on your mind, the hug, his words, the possessiveness that oozed from his voice. You thought he was going to come back, but wouldn't be have done so by now? Why wait? Whatever, you're just glad he's gone, no more creepy notes to find, no reason to be scared of the shadows anymore. That's what you tell yourself, anyway, yet you keep finding yourself looking over your shoulder when in dark rooms, expecting him to be standing there watching you. But he never is.

The bad weather continued, there was a storm almost every night, luckily the power stayed on every time but that didn't stop you from being terrified. Would he come back if the power went out? Was he just biding his time? No, if he was he would've kept leaving you notes. He's gone.

Tonight's storm was particularly brutal. You finally felt safe enough to turn some of the lights off in your house, the lightning was illuminating all the dark corners your lamps didn't reach. This time you were in your bedroom, your phone fully charged, ready for if the power went out. But he wouldn't come back, James was gone. You had been camping out on your bed the past hour, still scared you might find him lurking in your home, but by now you really needed a drink. Desperately. So, you plucked up all your courage (which was not a lot), and opened your bedroom door to go to the kitchen, taking your phone with you.

When you got there you half expected to see a note on your counter, but nothing was there. No notes, no James. You poured yourself a glass of water, downed it in a few gulps, just to fill it up again and make your way back to your bedroom.

When you got there and saw what was on your bed you almost dropped the glass, you would have if you weren't holding it with both hands. A piece of lined paper, folded in half. You set the glass on your bedside table, just so you could stand there and panic without having to worry about dropping it. He's back. Or maybe he never left. He was in your bedroom. It barely took you two minutes to go to the kitchen and come back and in that time he had put that note there. He's in your house. He's watching you. Has he been watching you this whole time? You thought he left. Fuck.

Finally, you settled on reading the note, though you approached it as if it were a snake about to bite you. The same messy handwriting was scribbled at the top, handwriting you hadn't seen in three weeks.

Please don't be scared. You know I'm watching you so there's no need to be scared. I'll keep you safe.

- Love, James

Right as you finished reading the room suddenly went pitch black. The power went out. And your phone... Is in the kitchen. You set it down on the counter to take a drink and never picked it up again. Wow, your survival instincts are terrible.

Just like last time, a few seconds later you heard his footsteps before you felt him. He was behind you, his hands on your hips. The left hand was cool, not quite cold but it didn't feel like blood was pumping through it. But his right hand was warm, meaning he wasn't outside recently. How long had he been in your house without you knowing about it? You didn't have time to think about it when he placed his head on your left shoulder, his right hand coming round to take the note from you.

"I can feel you shaking." He was talking just above a whisper like last time, not sounding like a stalker at all, breath fanning just below your ear. "There's no need, I'm right here."

He started slowly turning the both of you around, before gently pulling you back toward the bed. Again you froze, unable to do anything except lay down on the bed with him, his warm body spooning you from behind, again an action that was supposed to be comforting and was anything but.

"You thought I left you. I saw you. I guess it's kind of my fault for not speaking to you since that night, I should have left you something. I was planning on just giving you that note and leaving you alone tonight but then the power went out and I knew you'd be scared." It was him that scared you. But you have a feeling he wouldn't accept that fact very well. It didn't really seem like he wanted you to talk right now anyway, so you just kept quiet and stared into the darkness of the room, the occasional strike of lightning illuminating the furniture. James seemed content to ramble on whether you answered him or not.

"I hope you know I'm never gonna leave you. I'm honestly a little offended you ever thought I would. But I forgive you, I know I just haven't made myself clear enough." He paused for a second, and that was enough time for you to dread what he was going to say next.

"I said it before and I'll say it again. I'm not gonna lose you. I'm not gonna let anybody take you from me. You're all mine. And I'll keep saying it until you believe me. I promise."

You don't think you're ever going to be able to get rid of him. Not as long as he keeps that promise.

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Reblogs and comments are really appreciated <33

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kakujis · 1 year

Text

ghost in the machine;

ft: bonten!mikey. pt 2 of this post.

warnings: afab!reader, pet names (baby, good girl), praise, reader is terrified of mikey LOL but warms up pretty fast, minor angst, pining, not implied kaku x reader, hes just mentioned cus i love him.

wc: 2.2k

a/n:i couldn’t get this song out of my head after i heard it and i thought it fit bonten!mikey so well. he’s so sad. TnT. i really wanted to write pt 2 of mikey’s part also, so this is purrfect!! may be a bit ooc, but idc. soft bonten!mikey ftw!!! this almost stayed sfw but i am nothing but a wh*re. a one track mind. anyways. soft… this is so soft. please love hims. ):

mikey has seen it all before, how could he not, when he holds the world in his hands? when one single command could ruin someone’s life, could set destruction wherever he wanted. each day comes and goes, routine settling deep in his bones. there’s no spark behind his eyes, hollow and empty. but he’s pretty like a seashell, fragility hiding behind the dark shadow of himself.

mikey didn’t think much when you were hired, wasn’t sure why he hired you anyway. but takeomi had insisted, have a pretty girl to take some of the burden off. but you ended up becoming less of his secretary and more of bonten’s secretary. and he found himself getting attached watching you flit around the headquarters like some maid. “ran, do you need help with that?” or “i’ll take the paperwork, don’t worry, kokonoi!” or “could someone please bring a warm tea up to mochi’s office?”

you maneuvered your way into all of them, gentle touches and even gentler wordings ringing in their ears like a song. you were available, physically and maybe sometimes emotionally, but you stayed at arm’s length and mikey knew why. simply put, you were afraid. afraid of getting too close, afraid that you were disposable like the random grunts who pissed haru off. but you were especially afraid of mikey, all of them would kill or order someone to be killed without a single hesitation, but who did they bow down to? their king, who they all followed dutifully. high above the king reigned supreme, and who were you but a simple pawn?

so you decided to drown in the work mikey gave you, heart hammering whenever he came too close. you needed this job, you needed to sustain yourself, you didn’t want to run back home, no you couldn’t run back home. even if you wanted to, you couldn’t put anyone you cared about in danger, not your parents nor your friends, knowing you stayed just a few feet away from the most dangerous men in Japan.

you had finished your work for today, finally done going through hours of mind-numbing paperwork. mikey had asked you to stay in late tonight and you had done just that, scrolling mindlessly on your phone waiting for your boss to come back. a means to distract yourself, since you loathed when it was just the two of you. that’s why you ran around the building like mad for other members that didn’t ignite your fight or flight. you hated the way your hands trembled when the door opened, automatically opening your texts with kakucho, not like he would come to your aid if you asked, never one to disobey his boss.

with the click of a lock, your stomach was flipping in waves, little alarm bells ringing through your brain and the grip on your phone became a little bit tighter. you could see him in your peripheral, the same expression as always, soulless, desolate, empty. sighing, he walked over to your desk, white locks falling by his eyes. there’s something on his mind as he reaches your desk, picking up some of your things, little trinkets you had gotten one day when ran mentioned how empty your desk was. he turns them in his hand, one by one, looking them over before setting them down.

“s-so,” you start, cutting through the silence, voice already shaky. “what’d you need from me, boss?” your hands start to move, one smoothing over your thigh, the other clicking the lock screen button on your phone repeatedly.

he doesn’t respond, instead sauntering to the couch and plopping down. he motions you over, two fingers up curled on his right hand, and you obey, slowly and shakily moving over. you sit opposite of him, trying to keep a good distance. if he’s upset by it, you can’t tell, dark eyes staring at you.

“i’m lonely.” he states, eyes trailing over you. your heart pounds at what he could be inferring, there’s no way, right? he’s never made a move on you before, it’s always been strictly business, besides he’s had you make dozens of calls to satisfy his urges before.

“oh! do you want me to make a call? i think, um, i think one of your girls should be free tonight, no?” you open your phone, contact: kakucho still visible on the top of your screen. are you alright? it reads, not realizing you had sent a text earlier, i’m scared.

he’s fast, snatching the device from your hands and throwing it to the floor, theres a few clacks as it bounces away. “i don’t want em.” you’re trembling, chest heaving, as he’s the closest he’s ever been, leaning into you as you try to back away. your body reacts on its own, shrinking down into the plush cushions. you brace yourself, waiting for him to start grasping at your clothes, but he doesn’t.

instead, one hand wraps around your wrist and gently tugs, “could.. you pretend you’re not scared of me? just for tonight?” his voice is so soft, whispery, and the hand around your wrist shakes lightly, like he’s the one who’s cornered.

you blink at him, there’s something in his eyes. something desperate and lonely, something that begs you to say yes. it melts away at your shaky core. just for tonight. you nod before adding, “i’ll try.”

he moves closer still and you steady yourself, deep breaths to make sure you don’t flinch. “just pretend i’m kakucho or somethin’,” he mumbles, sinking his face into the crook of your neck. you blush, it’s not like you were into kakucho, he just made you feel comfortable.

you’re still unsure what tonight will actually lead to, but you find yourself relaxing slightly in his arms. maybe it’s because you don’t have to do anything but stay there, in the embrace of a broken king.

“can i kiss you?” he asks, lips grazing your neck.

“where?” you gulp, a hint of that cruddy feeling in your stomach, clammy hands fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“here,” he breathes, pausing at your pulse-point.

you mull it over, but just for a moment, before you mumble out a shaky, “okay.”

he presses down and the kiss is soft, slow, and sweet. each time you anticipate that there will be something more, something harsh or heavy, there never is. every time he moves he asks again, “is it okay here?” and you say yes, over and over, as many times as he wants.

eventually, your hands stop trembling with fear, but want. each time his lips hover over a new spot you find yourself breathing out a yes before he even asks. one of your absent minded hands card through the tresses of his hair, as he moves a hand to the top button of your dress shirt.

“can i?” he asks, glancing up at you, a red tint on his cheeks. when you nod he seems to relax a bit as he slowly unbuttons your top revealing your bra underneath.

his hands ghost your exposed skin and you blush under his burning gaze. “you’re so beautiful.” his hands continue trailing, stopping at your waistband. “can-“

“yes,” you breathe, “you can.” it comes with an air of finality, the essence of letting go of your fear in return for what you desire. behind those cold, coal eyes, you think you see a spark, a dimly lit fire in the darkness of his soul.

he’s a little bit faster, only slightly, wanting to relish in the way you’re under him as he slips the rest of your clothing off, slick cunt on display. you react to every touch, a whimper escaping your lips when he flits his fingers over your clit.

he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. it’s tender, deep, and needy. he keeps kissing you as he slips one finger in, the gasp from your mouth allowing him to slip his tongue in. he inserts another, loving the way you arch up into him, messy tongues sliding over each other. he groans into you, feeling the way your needy cunt is already twitching on him, scissoring you open for later.

“mikey..” you sigh in between kisses, drool running down the side of your mouth, “please,” grinding your hips into his hand. he pulls his hand out to undress himself and you whine, trying to find something to grind onto. he thinks you’re a greedy little thing, but it’s better than when you shy away from him, much better in fact.

when he’s done, he hooks your legs up around his waist, giving his leaky cock a few pumps. he scans your face one more time as he lines up with your entrance, waiting to see if you’d tell him to stop. he would if you wanted him to, but you give no indication, instead watching his cock with pretty, wanting eyes.

like before, he’s slow as he pushes in, the tightness of your pussy around his cock has his mind spinning. for you, it’s a little uncomfortable, the stretch being something you never get used to no matter who it is, but the gentleness and earlier prep has you melting into him. as he bottoms out, hips flush with yours, he presses his forehead to yours before leaning in for another kiss.

he stills for a bit, eyes shut, savoring the feel of your wet, tight cunt. how long has he wanted you? if he thinks about it, probably since the day he met you.

“mikey?” you ask, and he snaps his eyes open. you’re so pretty, he thinks, as even prettier words leave your mouth. “p-please fuck me already.”

you mewl into him as he starts to move, steady rolls of his hips into yours sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. he pants as he glances down, watching your greedy hole suck him in.

“you feel so good,” he groans, “like you were fucking made for me.” using a particular harsh slam to punctuate his sentence.

your toes curl as the wet slap of skin reverberates throughout the room, before you’re putting your arms around him to tug him close, nails digging into his back.

“you close, baby? gonna cum for me?” he murmurs into your ear, feeling you clench down on him. “you like that? you wanna be mine? want me to fill you up everyday, so everyone knows whose pussy this belongs to?” he’s rambling now, eyes squeezed shut as your tight cunt continues to twitch on his cock.

“yeah,” you babble back, his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over, “‘m wanna be yours, want you to fuck me everyday,” he’s so deep and fills you up so well, you can’t help but want this. “f-fuck, mikey, i’m cumming!” you gasp, clamping down and creaming all over him, body shaking as you whimper into his neck to ride out your high.

“good girl,” he groans, “such a good job, baby.” it’s sort of dream-like for him, the way you moan and whine as he fucks you makes him want to keep going. but the continuous twitch of your walls has his hips stuttering out as he fills you up, hot white ropes of seed washing over your walls. he collapses on you, head buried in your neck, wrapping his arms snugly around you.

its quiet as the two of you bask in the afterglow, save for the ring of your phone. you peek over and squeak, trying to move mikey off of you, “ah, it’s kakucho, he’s-“

mikey places a finger on your lips, brows knit with a pout on his face as he presses hard down on you to keep you in place. it’s foreign to see your boss look so childlike, but it’s pretty cute, your heart fluttering at the sight. “you didn’t pretend earlier, so you’re not allowed to mention him now.” he grumbles, and you tilt your head to the side wondering what he’s talking about.

“just pretend i’m kakucho or somethin’”.

“o-oh,” you stammer when the realization hits. “right.” you stare at the ceiling, wondering how you ended up in such a predicament, not too long ago you couldn’t even be within the same room as him without panicking. now, you’re in his arms, skin to skin with his seed inside you, your cheek resting on his head. you don’t notice the absentminded stroke of your hand on the small of his back.

but mikey does and is once again struck by how someone as gentle as you wormed their way into the worst crime syndicate. he’s not sure if it’s love, but it’s probably something close. he’s like putty in your arms, unwilling and unable to pull out, even as you shift your legs to find a comfier position.

“let me stay here,” he mumbles, drowsiness taking over his limbs. “just for tonight, you can hate me again tomorrow.” but you know it’s not just for tonight anymore. there will be tomorrow night or maybe it’ll be next week, but you know you’ll find yourself in his arms again.

“i never…” you mumble, frowning, you want to say you’ve never hated him. you were just afraid, but the words don’t come out stuck on your tongue.

“don’t worry about it.” he yawns and you nod, it’s so different right now. you’re afraid to say anymore and ruin the atmosphere.

mikey has seen it all, but he thinks that the view of you is the best he's seen. it’s quiet again and he stays on you, in you, as the gentle rise of your chest lulls him to sleep.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x you #manjiro sano #manjiro sano x y/n #manjiro sano smut #mikey sano #bonten #bonten mikey #pibby writing #ok bai im gonna play league all day #god i love not proofreading #tokyo revengers x reader #manjiro sano x reader

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decaying-words · 27 days

Text

Lapdog

All chapters Edward Nigma x Reader • 18+ Explicit • 4.4k words TW & tags: Pet play, spit play, oral sex, leg humping AO3 • All my stories

"You are still here", he notes in quasi disbelief, an unreadable expression on his face. He must have been expecting that I had left hours ago, I am sure, and yet I have no explanation to give, not even to myself. Why did I stay here, I wonder, waiting patiently for him to come back home and comfort my raw nerves, like a lover would; yet a lover I am not. Not quite anyway.

Lapdog

Painted hands of a similarly stained clock move painfully slowly, the face glaring at me mockingly. The night is cruel in its loneliness, progressing at an agonizing pace and taunting my uninteresting tasks; collecting the misplaced tools with unnecessary care and caution, gathering the wandering paper notes and organizing them in a neat pile that I know will be thoroughly demolished in an infantile desire to illustrate my incompetence and ignorance, and, finally, removing the comical amount of empty coffee mugs abandoned on various and, at times, frankly bizarre and unexpected places.

Ever since my last fruitless experiment that ended in a copious string of creative insults resembling a degrading rosary in his ridiculing tone, the Riddler does not let me forge new projects, not until I “find the required brain cells to not waste his most precious time”, as he said. What little frustration and heartache I felt in my demotion died in a strangled whimper under his uninterested gaze, interrupting any protest I might have by demanding to leave the premises immediately. That time, I spent my sleepless night crying heavy tears, fingers grabbing my hair and tugging until my scalp felt sore.

The Riddler is absent tonight, and there is only so much to do once my mediocre tasks done. Pacing around the warehouse, my light footsteps echo in the green inferno; hand crafted machineries engulfed in a toxic hue stare at me with profound limpness, buzzing ominously in the otherwise aphonic place. Crudely painted symbols, equations and riddles adorn the fatigued floors and, more curiously, the impossibly tall walls. My interested gaze following the cryptic logorrhea ornamenting the area, my mind wanders in places I do not belong to.

I have always wondered what Edward felt during one of these manic episodes, of which I’ve witnessed quite a few times before, always quietly and with empathy, furiously writing incomprehensible thoughts, mysterious threats and other obscure formulas; did it feel like a lifeline at the time, cautiously grounding him when his mind grew foggy ?

I have never doubted for an instant that underneath the intricate layers of his great intelligence was a gravely sick man; beyond the burning pride and arrogance in his demeanor is hiding the weak ghost of a deeply confused man, a man profoundly afraid of the glacial emptiness of neglect, who at times struggles to recognize even himself. It is cathartic for him, I believe, when he frantically scribbles his thoughts, face perverted in anguish, eyes wide open akin to an animal, skin glistening in sweat; entire body aquiver as if terrified of forgetting who he is beyond the Riddler. Of course, he never notices my balmy gaze on him when I catch a glimpse of his broken soul; nor does he know of my intimate desire to heal him. He would find it inappropriate, I am sure, grotesque even. Foolish girl.

He did catch my gaze tonight, however, sharply dressed up for an important meeting with his peers, one I am not invited to, obviously –why would I be? He looks like a different man entirely when he abandons his filth covered shirt, sweat caked beater and stained cargo pants; his demeanor metamorphosed also, standing straight like a bow, chest swelling proudly, his gloved hands flattening his decorated tie. His tailored suit fits him beautifully, the color matching the green bowler hat that is tucked underneath his arm.

Edward is handsome, the most handsome man I have ever seen, and while his sunken cheeks and fatigued eyes are the only remainders of his declining mental state, he conceals his insecurities with a renewed, and perhaps slightly fabricated, confidence. The crimson tip of his tongue darts past his lips in the way it always does when he’s lost in his thoughts, and my heart opens and sings inappropriate songs that flush my cheeks a ruby tint.

This is when his eyes lay on me, cocking an amused brow at my flustered face, silently expecting a flattering comment, though he would never voice it. My mouth opens and closes, carefully picking my words so as to not upset him. You look magnificent, I confess; he seems pleased, a toothy grin spreading on his glowing face. Naively, I wish I could come with him, the insinuation of proximity, emotional or otherwise, public and absurd; the childish dream of being introduced as his assistant – his lover, a little voice in my head whispers.

You know, you remind me of a dog, is what he says; the words are meant to humiliate, a demeaning inflection in his voice, though there is no bite to them. I do not mind them; in fact, I find myself agreeing with him, smiling at him tenderly, face flushed. Edward cocks a surprised brow, as if not expecting this reaction, honest and quasi vulgar . He exhales a chuckle, a subtle twinkle in his eyes, pupils dilating slightly. I recognize this gaze, filled with a still unfamiliar arousal; he looked at me in a similar manner the last time we were intimate, when I lapped his body with a burning hunger until he came undone on my face, eventually fleeing the scene as if ashamed of his own desires. We haven’t talked about this event since, nor the one preceding it, a painful habit of his I’m afraid.

Edward shakes his head, the tip of his tongue licking his chapped lips, thinking of something indecent, I believe. To my great dismay, he will not act on these thoughts, instead putting on his bowler hat and smirking at me, bidding me goodnight, leaving me to my menial tasks.

Hours pass and undesired thoughts pile and overflow in my bored mind, cruel and anxiety inducing. I wonder, wholeheartedly embarrassed, if someone else will collect the fruits of his short-lived desire, if this will mark the end, then, of what did not even have the time to mature in this closed space. Inappropriate jealousy turns to dread and sorrow as I curl in an emotional ball, slumped in the worn-out couch, tears growing in front of my glassy eyes.

Despite the light tremor of my bottom lip and the cruel knot building in my closed throat, I remain still with the perfect inertia of a corpse, mind turning absolutely blank, drained and hopeless, as if I ceased to exist the moment Edward left; and perhaps it is the case, the grandiose emptiness inside of me begging for him to come back.

Suddenly, the mechanical noises reverberating in the metallic Hell become inescapable, spiteful and intolerable; the aggressive lights turn caustic, loud and vicious; all I can hear are the agonizing thoughts, the barbarous internal monologue, chest heaving as my breathing turns erratic, broken sobs strangling in my throat, body aquiver with what seems like a fatal panic attack. This place, once perceived as an embracing and loving cocoon morphs grotesquely into a diabolic pit for which I feel only hatred and disgust. My tortured mind screams in horror, heart beating furiously in my chest, and as I feel the crushing weight of time passing, I wonder when will Edward come back, and why did he leave me alone in the first place.

My body jolts in a whimper when I hear the colossal metal doors of the elevator creak, spitting a dusty cloud on the ground as it lands heavily. My weak frame contorts, alert and hopeful, craning my head to stare at the iron cage; I imagine my face being twisted in desperate relief, brow knitted tightly, eyes wide open like a traumatized animal, panting as I emerge laboriously from my panicked state. Edward quirks a brow, a perplexed frown on his closed face, considering me for a minute; he must find me disgraceful, I suppose, viciously gripping the leathery arms of the couch, the flayed expression on my face morphing into one of profound happiness.

Edward reeks of cigarette smoke, a filthy habit that conceals his natural scent. He seems surprised to see me, glancing at the watch on his wrist then at me with a questioning look, yet I offer him no answer. You are still here , he notes in quasi disbelief, an unreadable expression on his face. He must have been expecting that I had left hours ago, I am sure, and yet I have no explanation to give, not even to myself. Why did I stay here, I wonder, waiting patiently for him to come back home and comfort my raw nerves, like a lover would; yet a lover I am not. Not quite anyway.

I swallow meekly, and answer the only way I know how; with a smile, genuine and kind, happiness glowing on my face, while a dumbfounded expression shadows his. Through his round glasses, his eyes contemplate me for an instant, an impossibly green ocean licking the shores of my mind. There is a storm hiding in the horizon, even I can tell, and so I offer him an excuse, sheepishly. I missed you . It is the truth.

His reaction is immediate and what I sense nervous, barking a laugh; not quite cruel, not quite amused, but instead coming from a place of insecurity, disdain and indecision. His expression contorts, pupils dilating enough to obscure the emerald of his irises, and I feel my guts twisting. Carefully putting his bowler hat on the nearest surface, revealing his now slightly sweaty hair, Edward turns his back at me, looking in the distance, gears grinding in his mind. He reaches for his leather gloves next, long fingers fiddling with the pressure buttons, and then stops. He does not remove his gloves.

“You truly are a dog, aren’t you?”

My entire body shivers, a burning pit gnawing at my stomach with confusing feelings, all of them caustic, perverted and exquisite. I mouth aphonic words of which I ignore the intent. There was a playful element in the inflection of his voice, and when he turns his proud silhouette to face me, there is an indecent smile on his face; one that reeks of contempt and desire. I stare at his grandiose form, lips parted and cheeks flushed from a somewhat familiar hunger; he appreciates seeing me so submissive and needy, I am sure, for he tilts his head on the side and grins wider, the question, unanswered, floating in the air still. “Well?”

There is so much left unsaid, so much left for him to create and define as he sees fit, when I realize that he looks at me expecting an answer that comes quickly, as if foolishly obvious, and yet one that sounds like a permission. “Maybe I am.”

Edward bites his bottom lip frankly, doing a particularly poor job at suppressing his wolfish smile; his gaze holds the power of a storm, breathing heavily through his flared nostrils. When he walks in my direction, each one of his steps sends a spasm to my cunt, shamefully awake and interested, until he stands in front of me, my eyes at the level of his stomach, the memory of the coarse hair hidden under his neatly tucked shirt making me salivate.

“Oh, I know you are. With how easily and quickly you were to drop on your knees, indulging in rather vulgar activities with this obscene tongue of yours.”

His voice is low and dark, the tone dripping with disdain and arousal, his words carefully crafted and picked; he takes great pleasure in seeing me squirm on the couch, muffling soft gasps when his eyes look down on me with a carnal appetite. My expression is one of false shame bordering on inappropriate satisfaction, silently confirming my crude desires. Edward’s voice is husky, shivering with an unconcealed, unmistakable thrill when he asks a question laced with all the neglected lust he once buried deeply in the graveyard of his humanity.

“And what does that make me, then?”

He wants to hear it from me . He wants to feel powerful, wants to dominate me. Taking immense pleasure in my submissive nature, breath hitching even more as his darkened gaze drills burning holes in the back of my skull, a delicate vein on his neck throbbing expectantly. Under his perfectly cut suit pants, I am certain he is hard. I hardly recognize the man who ran away from me after his uncontrolled orgasm; I wonder how much of him is still treading carefully, inexperienced and hesitant, discovering his limits, toying with mines. There is nothing less than adoration in my eyes, hoping to give him the silent reassurance and comfort he seems to seek, heart beating frantically in my chest when I mouth the desired words.

The master.

His shoulders twitch in response, a delicate flush tinting his cheeks, flustered, uncomfortable but positively euphoric . Long seconds pass before he emerges from his enchanted inertia, contemplating the possibilities, evaluating his desires; he looks beautiful in this bemused state, getting acquainted with his most intimate cravings. A part of me wants to guide him, encourage him, reassure him that I will not break easily, though I know how quickly his ego can get bruised; instead, I watch him intently, obediently, lips slightly parted. I believe he needs to be treated with patience and care, more than he needs the control; although it might be wishful thinking from a lovesick deviant.

I follow the gesture of his hand immediately as he snaps his finger and points to the ground. Of course. A dog doesn’t sit on the couch. I cannot help but notice the light tremor in his thighs when he takes my place, spreading his legs wide enough that I can crawl and kneel in between them, hands folded on my lap devotedly.

The profound exhalation is probably louder than he expected; as if releasing an unknown tension, his body slumps in the couch, contemplating my weaker position. It takes him a few most necessary seconds to collect himself, towering his frame above mine with the glory and poise of a panther. Flexing his still gloved hands a couple of times, visibly debating his next move, he decides to lay his elbows on his thighs, bringing his hands towards and cupping my face, the tender touch eliciting a needy whimper. Under his delicate and short chuckle, I lean my face against the warm leather, embracing his hold with closed eyes, focusing on the complex sensations, all of them delicious and dripping with liquid desire. His thumb draws circles on my cheek, fingers experimenting with the softness of my flesh for a blissful instant in a quasi silence. Elbows securely laying on his thighs, body slightly lurched, his voice is a whisper, a caress against my face.

“Will you be a good dog for me?”

I nod.

“Will you be loyal to me, will you wag your tail for me?”

I nod more frankly, a rush of blood pumping in my system, tinting my cheeks a delicate shade of rose and making my core throb; my hips jerk once, reflexively, as if every single atom constituting my being was yearning for him. Then, said so softly I almost didn’t hear it despite our close proximity. Good girl.

The strangled sob in my throat comes immediately, a built-up feeling that makes my heart ache and swell as I sink my half-lidded eyes in his, desperately searching for approval, squirming on the ground uncomfortably. His thumb brushes against my parted lips gingerly, the intent clear as I open my mouth wider to invite his gloved digit in the warm cavity. A stifled groan shakes in his throat when he caresses my fleshy gums, teasing my crimson appendage. Greedily, I close my mouth around his thumb and suck crudely, bobbing my head along the length of his digit under his mesmerized and lustful gaze. His languorous hums are quasi pornographic, hissing through his teeth when he forcefully removes his thumb in a wet noise, brutally shoving instead his index and middle fingers inside my welcoming mouth.

The sucking noises I make are obscene and vulgar, licking the trembling leather digits, penetrating eagerly and hungrily the space between them with my appendage. His moans are low and choked, a single strand of hair dropping on his forehead, glasses slightly askew, and oh does he look beautiful with his face distorted with a shameful lust that he is just now allowing himself to discover and explore. I feel his fingers thrust inside my throat in wet gagging noises, a foamy pool of saliva accumulating on my pink lips; I do not miss how his hips buck involuntarily, my hands then reaching for his clothed thighs, muscles tense like a bow. When my fingers brush against the outlines of his hardened bulge, Edward removes his fingers from my mouth in a drenched noise and grabs my face with a renewed vigor, the both of us panting in unison, a lewd blend of labored effort and burning arousal.

“You’re so eager, so… hungry . You would take anything from me.”

His voice is low and coarse, akin to a groan, dangerous and feral, and shooting tremors in my thighs, my sex pulsating as I whimper and nod positively, face flushed and beaming. He chuckles nervously, beautifully , looking down at me before working the inside of his mouth with a clear intent, one that makes me sob and weep, opening my mouth wide and sticking my tongue out expectantly, obediently.

Edward spits a big, heavy glob of saliva on my welcoming tongue, watching me with bewildered eyes when I swallow it greedily before opening my mouth again, excitedly presenting him the glistening cushion of my tongue, eager and prepared. He chokes a flustered chuckle, face flushed with quasi embarrassment, his voice trembling and laced with lust. “Incredible.”

His fingers release the soft skin of my face and migrate to my hair, grabbing it enough to feel held in place but not enough to hurt. His flush spreads from his cheeks to his neck giving him an almost bashful look; I see him work his throat again, collecting as much saliva as he can produce, while I pant under him, squirming on the ground like a starving animal.

When he releases another generous glob of spit that lands perfectly on my tongue, the offering promptly and greedily swallowed, he moans lewdly, emerald eyes clouded by a thick arousal. He pants loudly near my face, his breath smelling of coffee and cigarettes, and I wonder if his lips taste the same, if I will ever be able to know.

My body squirm uncomfortably on the ground, desperately searching for friction, and perhaps even release. My curious dance does not get lost on him, as he smirks at me with a renewed confidence, fingers grabbing and tugging viciously at my hair, eliciting a mean grunt out of my used throat.

“Are you still hungry, pet? Do you want more?” His voice is a taunting snarl, an amused inflection in his tone, and I whine stupidly, unable to move my head still tightly held in his unforgiving grip. He wants an answer, I understand, cocking his head to the side with an exhausted grin; I believe he too wants, needs release.

“Yes, please. More, I want more.”

My scalp is sore when he releases my hair, looking at his gloved hands with a quasi hypnotic interest when they are unbuckling his belt with trembling fingers, quickly untucking his beautiful, perfect cock; the tip angry red, length flushed in a delicate shade of rose, delicious veins rolling under the flesh. Generous beads of glistening precum drip from the glans in an obscene invitation; one I answer with the crude spectacle of my tongue licking the lips of my already open mouth. Before I can even taste his heavenly flesh, I feel his hand grabbing fistfuls of my hair, preventing any further movement. My frustrated whimpers make him bark a cruel laugh then coo at me, taunting me and mocking me. He is taking great pleasure in my vulgar despair; pumping his cock with his free hand, Edward smiles smugly, humming lowly.

“Beg for it.” It’s almost a murmur with how breathy his voice is, panting loudly as if he were the one begging for release really, and I humor him; of course I do, for I want him with a desire I had never felt before, certain I will die if I don’t immediately swallow his cock.

“Please, please I want you, I need you.” A truth, on more levels than one, but I do not believe he can see all the subtleties of this confession when he presses the back of my head, guiding it towards his hardened sex; or when he cries out in pleasure when I take his entire length down my throat, gagging loudly at the sudden, yet delicious pain. I am quick to work my jaw and bob my head up and down his glory; he tastes just as good as I remember, perhaps cleaner than last time. I do not mind. For a little while, he allows me to swallow his shaft, swirling my tongue over the underside of his cock, passionately sucking at his rosy glans, at the measure of his most indecent moans, loud and primal.

A ferocious groan is all the warning I get before I feel his hands at either side of my head, locking it immobile before his hips start thrusting at a punishing pace, fucking my throat mercilessly. I let him use my fleshy hole wholeheartedly, one hand finding purchase on his clothed thigh, gagging and choking every time the glans hits the back of my throat, foamy spit and precum pooling down my chin; a sight he finds most alluring, I believe, as I feel him throb fiercely.

My other hand snakes down my body, unbuttoning my pants, fingers sinking in my wooly curls until I reach my drenched core and my swollen bud. Edward then snarls and releases my assaulted mouth, maneuvering a booted foot to lay it right between my legs, making me straddle the cold hard leather with his shin pressed against my chest.

“Go on then, dog.”

A broken moan dies on my lips, fingers grabbing at his strong thigh, positioning my clothed cunt perfectly right on his boot, the ankle brushing against my swollen clit. His fist is pumping himself earnestly in a crude and wet noise, his breath labored and quasi pained. There is a pang of hesitation in my chest, one quickly erased when I lift my eyes and find his gaze; there is arousal there, and something akin to tenderness.

And then, I start thrusting.

The friction is electric, his body warmth pressed tightly against my core as my hands clench around his thigh. I feel the rough fabric of his pants rubbing against my cunt as I hump his leg, shattered moans and heavy cries echoing in the warehouse. We maintain eye contact, his face red and glistening with a thin veil of sweat while he’s fucking his hand, panting like a feral beast, chest heaving under his now uncomfortably tight shirt; he is beautiful.

My hips rock more earnestly, his shin rubbing against my throbbing clitoris while the buttons and laces of his leather boot bump and stroke my fluttering cunt; the mixed sensations are otherworldly, experimenting with angles and pace until I find the right combination, the right amount of friction, under his entranced gaze. I do not recognize my voice when I sob stupidly, my cunt clenching and tensing as I near my orgasm, eyes still on his, always on his, never leaving his. He seems to pick up how close I am, for his voice is a fractured murmur.

“Come for me, and I will reward you.” A promise.

A particular stitch of his boot is what ruins me. Or perhaps is it the way he looks at me, with a carnal adoration when I am fucking his leg. Either way, I feel myself clench, the orgasm devastating, unexpected and exhausting. Every nerve, every muscle tense and burn, stomach flipping painfully as I ride the last waves of this intimate climax.

Pressing my cheek against his knee, almost drooling on the green fabric of pants, breathing heavily, I search his eyes for approval, with the pure desire to become his property, to belong in the most intimate way he can offer.

Edward is nearly there, his fist pumping his angry cock at a frantic pace until all I hear is a strangled sob, a cue I immediately identify as I prop myself on my knees and swallow his cock tenderly, sucking him until I feel him spurt heavy strings of semen down my throat. He cries out, hips bucking as much as he can, fucking the last of his orgasm in my mouth, emptying his seeds in my stomach. He tugs at my hair gently once he feels so overstimulated it begins to hurt, and I remove myself graciously, wiping the remainder of our body fluids with the back of my hand.

I brace myself for the possibility of him leaving the premises again, leaving me empty and emotionally flayed, but am surprised when he does not. Slumping on the couch, head tilted back against the seat, his hand lays flat on the top of my head, caressing my hair aimlessly. Closing my eyes, I lean against his touch, almost purring, a profound feeling of happiness pooling inside of me. I wonder if dogs feel as elated and content from the simple pleasure of sitting next to their master; I wonder if they too feel an unconditional love, as long as they can lay their heavy head on their master’s lap. In the stillness of the night, life seems perfect as long as I am near him.

Sitting back on the couch and buttoning his pants, Edward looks at me, his face adorning a somewhat torn expression; something between exhaustion, insecurity and doubt. His fingers trace shapeless lines on my face, slipping down my neck where the fingertips stay for a while, a contemplative and pensive look on his face. I offer him a smile, tender and mild, and for a fraction of second I see the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. My heart sings. He inspires deeply, collecting himself and working his throat until he finds the right words, ones that come in his naturally detached tone.

“It’s getting really late, I think you should go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I nod, running my fingers through my hair and massaging where my scalp feels sore. When I stand up, my knees burn from the uncomfortable position, my inner thighs feel sticky from my orgasm. Collecting my last belongings, I nod at him politely, bidding him goodnight. His smile is tired but genuine.

Goodnight, dear.

#Edward nigma #edward nigma x reader #edward nygma x reader #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #riddler x reader #fanfic #my writing #Edward nygma #Edward nashton #the riddler #riddler

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