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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 10 months

Text

So This Is Love

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fake death, some fluff towards the end, inaccurate gun language (please be responsible when it comes to fire arms), dad jokes, smut mdni (18+), praise kink, some shower sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimluation, unprotected sex, creampie, make up sex?

Words: 11.4k

Synopsis: Simon is having a bad day...

Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist

You currently reading chapter 8 of The Roommate Series

“…I’m always here for you.”

The words replayed in his mind as often as most things in his life did. He wasn’t sure there was a point in his life where everything was quiet inside of him and he was sure that it would rip him to shreds if things calmed down within him. He thrived in the chaos, it was what kept him alive for so long despite the odds being put against him since he started his career, it’s what gave him the reputation he had currently.

Ghost. He lived up to the name in more ways than one, becoming a highly skilled soldier that seemed to be practically invincible when it came to a mission turned south. A silent, cold killer who made enemies and allies alike nervous of him when they heard his name being said. A persona with the face of the dead, an omen, a reminder, of what’s to come when he appears.

Ghost couldn’t help but like the reputation he had created for himself. He liked the way the recruits would straighten up at the sight of him for fear that he’ll lash out when his mind is a far different place. He likes when he sees someone get uncomfortable when they catch him staring at them as if he could read their minds.

In a sick and sadistic way he liked the fear in the eyes of his enemies when he came face to face with them, when they realize that they're in his sight and they’re not going to make it.

His reputation was the only thing that kept him safe.

The smell of iron and gunpowder filled his nose as he swept through the building of his current mission. He had a rifle in his hands tightly, eyes trained in front of him as he listened to the garbled mess of words that came through the comms. Behind him was a team, not the 141 but he was used to being put on missions with other sergeants or recruits he had never worked with before.

He gives out commands stern and straight to the point. He makes them clear, with no room for miscommunication because he’d rather not lose anyone due to his leadership skills.

The team sweeps through the building, splitting up into the rooms as gunfire fills the air. Ghost continued down the long hallway, executing any enemy that peeked out of the rooms on either side with an efficiency of that of a machine. He barely spared them a passing glance after their bodies fell on the ground, painting the cold concrete floors with dark red blood.

It was just another mission, a routine, another time for him to fall back into the persona and to forget about the man who died so many years ago.

Before long he was by himself. He gave the order to the rest of the team to clear out the remaining parts of the building behind him as he continued forward to find the best vantage point for setting up his sniping position. The sound of gunfire slowly disappeared behind him, becoming just white noise, static like a TV in his ears as he came to the end of the hallway and stood at the foot of the stairs.

He kept his gun at the ready as he took careful steps up the stairs. His mind was set on the mission, your voice had slowly been drowned out by the noise until he found the time to be by himself again.

Ghost made it to the top of the stairs and felt a chill run down his spine. Nothing was out of the ordinary for a building like this; concrete walls devoid of life and barely any light inside. The air was stuffier than downstairs and felt more compact, as if he had walked inside of a padded room.

His heart began to beat faster and he gripped his gun tighter as he felt that all too familiar suffocating feeling. The darkness didn’t help his mind as he remembered that coffin, his resting place, the one that still held his body and mind, and he swallowed hard.

He took a deep breath, fighting against the tightness in his throat as he suddenly felt pressure against his chest. Something was wrong, he knew it, and he kept his eyes wide as he scanned the empty hallway lined with lookalike doors.

The lack of sound around him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he inched further down. The pit in his stomach grew larger and larger to the point where he was sure he might be sick. No matter how much he wanted to back down and turn away he didn’t, despite the sirens blaring in his mind.

Ghost heard a noise and stopped.

It was faint sobbing, for a moment he thought that maybe he had just imagined it, but the longer he stood there in complete stillness and listened past his heartbeat, he could hear it. He tried to think if the briefing about the mission mentioned hostages but he couldn’t remember anything about it.

He swallowed hard as he listened to the person cry, his chest constricting tightly as the sound rang in his ears. It sounded familiar, like the made up sounds his mind had created when he thought about his family. The terror in the person's voice sounded like how he thought his mother had cried for mercy before she was murdered.

He felt sick to his stomach and he started to shake, the urge to walk away strong but the urge to save whoever was in danger stronger.

The closer he got, the clearer the voice became as he listened to the begging, the pleading for mercy. Whoever it was could hardly speak through their sobs as they begged and begged to be let go.

Simon’s blood ran cold. His feet took him forward in a sprint, unable to think of anything else as he listened to your sobs grow louder, your begging grow louder.

He had to get to you, he had to save you.

Simon slammed open the door with his shoulder, gun at the ready before he heard a gunshot. He didn’t hesitate to shoot the faceless man in front of him with quick precision before he searched around the room for you.

His entire world shattered when he saw you laying on the floor with a pool of blood forming around you.

Simon screamed your name and threw his gun to the floor. The moment he made it to you, he pressed his hands firmly on your stomach as blood gushed through his fingers.

His hands shook, his entire body shook. Panic surged through him as he listened to you cry, unable to take his eyes off your face, your beautiful face that was littered with bruises, gashes and blood that seeped out of your mouth. The sight burned into his skull and he felt like throwing up as his stomach vanished to his feet.

You sobbed, a choked scream escaping your throat as you tried to pull his hands off you in a fit of blinding hot pain. You ripped at his sleeves as tears ran down your face, a look of pure fear in your eyes as you stared up at him like he was your saving grace.

“Gotta stop the bleeding.” He felt light headed. “You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay.”

“They…came-”

He shushed you, his eyes frantic as he placed your hands on the wound to try to stop your blood from pooling underneath you as he fumbled to get his medpack. He barked an order medevac into his comms but all he received was static. He cursed loudly to himself as he found that as his breathing picked up he felt suffocated by the cold air.

“You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart.” His voice shook as he spoke. “I’ll get you out of here.”

Simon tried to pick you up but you resisted. You shook your head, writhing in pain as you cried and gave him a pleading look that he knew all too well. The fleeting fear, the instinctual panic that flowed through someone when they knew this was their last moment. The desperation for the pain to stop and for someone to save them.

He couldn’t lose you not after everything, not like this, not in the cold building full of hostiles far away from your home. A place for violence and fear, somewhere where you didn’t belong in the slightest.

You’d been ripped from your home, you were brought here. You deserve to go back, to be safe, to be alive and uninjured. This was his life not yours, this was his fate, the one that he waited for every day yet it never came.

You shouldn’t be the one covered in blood, it should be him.

“Simon-” Your voice was weak as you clutched his vest when he tried to pick you up again.

You shrieked in pain and against his better judgment he stopped. He couldn’t hurt you more than you already were, he couldn't make himself listen to your cries even though he knew he needed to get you to a medic.

“I’m here.” He ripped his mask off so you could stare at his face. “M’gonna help you, gonna get you home, yeah sweetheart?”

Simon stared at your lifeless body and dug his fingers into your arm. He shook his head and your name fell from his mouth in a strained whisper. His voice was broken, thick with despair as his vision blurred with tears and he shook you gently.

When you didn’t stir he clutched your hand, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles as he began to rock you back and forth. He hoped it would wake you, that something would bring back the light that was in your eyes just moments ago.

He loved you. That had to mean something, you had to be alive because he loved you.

Right?

“Don’t do this.” He pressed his forehead against yours and hugged you closer to his chest. “Please, please don’t do this. .”

A sob ripped through his throat and he cradled your body. Tears ran down his face, streaking the black paint and melting away anything warm that had ever been Simon Riley. He cried louder than he had in years, the mission far from his mind as he held onto your dead body as it was the only thing keeping him present.

How did he let this happen? Why was it you and not him? How many more times did he have to lose someone he loved?

Simon’s eyes snapped open and in an instant he sat up in the bed. Hot tears ran down his face as he stared wildly through the darkness of the room, dull pain piercing him in his side. His breathing was frantic as he tried to figure out where he was while he searched for his gun in his nightstand.

When he couldn’t feel his nightstand or the gun, his eyes jumped around the room he was in, slowly recognising the items placed about inside and the pictures hung up on the walls. He felt so nauseous when he realized that this was your room that he nearly ran out if it weren’t for the need to see if you were truly gone.

He grabbed the blankets around him and ripped them off the bed in a frenzy.

You had to be here, you had to be alive. He couldn’t lose you, he couldn’t bear the thought of having someone else taken from him. He knew this would have to be the last time, he wouldn’t be able to handle losing someone he loved again. There was no way he could forgive himself for putting you in danger, no way that he could live with himself if you had been ripped from him, shot like an animal.

The blankets were thrown to the floor and you were revealed to him.

You laid comfortably with your back towards him. Your shoulders and chest rose with steady breaths as you were deep in sleep, completely unaware of the fact that Simon was staring intensely at you.

Simon blinked a few times, letting more tears roll down his face as he placed a hand on your arm, feeling the warmth radiate from your skin into his palm. He took a shaky breath and moved his fingers to your pulse where he felt your heartbeat.

You were still here, you were still alive.

Instead of relief, he found that the panic set in further as he stared at you and resisted the urge to pull you into his chest. He could hardly breathe as he stood up and grabbed the blankets, laying them back on top of you as he tucked you safely back into bed as if it would keep you safe from the outside world.

He left your room as silently as he could despite his stumbling. For a moment he had no idea where he was going, the layout of the flat unfamiliar to him as he hyperventilated.

He finally managed to find his room and when the door behind him shut, he couldn’t help but let out the pained noises that fought against his tight throat.

The darkness didn’t help and he struggled to find the lamp. He collapsed against his bed, sliding down to the floor as a sob ripped through him. The harder he tried to keep himself quiet, the harder his entire body shook and the faster his breathing became. It was to the point he was sure he’d pass out and he clutched his chest as a deep pain stabbed him there like a knife to the heart.

Tears flowed freely and he was stuck on the floor. No matter how many times he tried to tell himself you were alive, he had seen you himself, he couldn’t get the image of you dying in his arms out of his mind.

He was too slow, he was too dangerous, he got you killed, you couldn’t even defend yourself.

Simon cursed to himself between sobs and heavy breaths. There was nothing else on his mind as he remembered the bloody image of a fate he never wished to see again.

Why was he cursed to a life of torment? To lose the ones he loved? Awake he was tortured by thoughts of you dying and yet he couldn’t escape that even in his sleep. Deep down he knew that getting attached again would end his life but he had been too hopeful. He had been too ready to believe that maybe life would be kind to him for once and that made him a fool.

A fool that would surely get the one he loved more than anything killed.

You woke up to the room being slightly dimmed due to what you assumed was storm clouds outside. For a few moments you shifted further into the sheets, clutching the blankets close to your chest as you felt the dreary morning lull you comfortably back to sleep.

It was a perfect morning to stay in bed for just a few hours longer, something that you weren't opposed to especially if it meant you had someone to snuggle up to.

You searched for Simon behind you and that was when you noticed that his comforting weight around you was gone. You frowned with disappointment and rolled over, cracking your eyes open to see that his side of your bed was empty, and judging by the fact that the sheets were cold where he laid, he had been gone for some time.

It wasn’t entirely odd to you. Simon was an early riser and now that you knew it was because of his career, you couldn’t fault him for sticking with that routine. However, the past few mornings of waking up to his sleepy and warm touch had spoiled you into believing he’d lay in bed with you for a few moments longer.

If it wasn’t too late, you could try to convince him to come back for an hour or so…

You groaned softly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you pushed yourself out of the bed and groggily made your way out of your room. You were prepared to use all of your charm to win him over, even giving him a few well placed kisses that he couldn’t resist.

You smiled to yourself and made your way into the kitchen where you heard him piddling about, feeling giddy about your plot to get him to be lazy for a morning, until you walked into the kitchen.

The smile fell from your face and you stopped in the doorway, your eyebrows knitting together with concern. Simon was already dressed and had completely covered himself head to toe as he cooked breakfast. Normally you wouldn’t be bothered by him already being dressed, but what worried you the most was the fact that he was wearing a face mask along with gloves.

Simon always covered up most of himself when he was having a horrible day. It was a habit you had noticed when he refused to let himself out of his room when he would get back from work and one that made your heart ache.

It had been a while since he had done it and you were surprised he was wearing just a face mask and not one of the balaclavas he had.

You’re not sure what had made him suddenly feel the urge to cover himself up and for a moment you debated on whether or not you wanted to ask him if he would like to talk about it.

“Why’re you just standing there?” He asked and you jumped from his sudden gruffness.

“Just admiring the view.” You teased, hoping to lighten the mood but when he didn’t reply or spare you a glance, you bit the inside of your lip. “I’m still waking up.”

“Then eat.”

You frowned, unsure of how to take his more aggressive grumpy attitude. You went to walk up to him to grab a plate and maybe find enough courage to place a soft hand on his arm to give him some sort of comfort, but he turned away from you abruptly.

Heat washed over you, shame maybe for the fact that he rejected you so quickly, and you watched him set a plate on the table. You didn’t know what else to do other than sit down and eat as Simon sat across from you without looking at you.

The silence was heavy as you began to eat and you watched him carefully, unsure of what happened to make him so cold towards you. You struggled to say something, the words stuck in your throat as Simon glanced at you, your eyes meeting for only a moment before he quickly looked away.

You pushed down the pit in your stomach, ignoring the way the food made your stomach churn and you put on a smile, trying your hardest to maybe get him to feel better.

“Did you already eat?” You hoped that he already had but you knew better, especially with the way he shifted in his seat.

He looked conflicted, as if there was a war inside of himself that raged on silently as he crossed his arms. He still refused to look at you like the very thought of you seeing you made him repulsed which hurt a lot more than you wanted it to. He took a deep breath and you watched his muscles tense before he spoke.

“I want to teach you how to shoot.”

You stopped eating and stared at him with an incredulous look. For a moment you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the idea because he had to be joking. You shooting a gun? You had never held one before, hell you had never touched the knife he had let alone the handgun in his night stand because you didn’t need to.

You felt nauseous when you realized that he was serious and you pushed your plate away from you as you began to shake your head.

“Simon-“

“When someone attacks you, you should be ready.” He gave you a serious look, one that you had never seen before that nearly cut through you.

You felt small under his gaze and though you weren’t afraid, you weren’t necessarily the most comfortable. You wanted to hide away and get him to stop looking at you. Was this how people at work felt when he looked and talked to them? Was this the Simon who disappeared for months, the one that never spoke to you when he was gone? You weren’t sure but the complete switch made your head spin and you still had no idea what happened to make him so…cold.

“It’s not like someone is out there to get me.” You scoffed and watched his eyes narrow. “It’s extremely rare, you’re talking about what ifs.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re leaving in an hour.” He got up and stalked back to his room, leaving you dumbfounded.

All you could do was sit there, mouth agape from the audacity Simon had. You couldn’t quite believe he had just spoken to you that way for the first time in the three years you had known him and after the past few days. Part of you couldn’t help but feel guilt as irritation rose up inside of you because you knew that something was wrong, but you also knew you deserved better than that.

Simon knew you deserved better than that.

You wanted to know what happened to him. He was hurting, that was the only explanation after knowing how sweet and kind he could be to you. For him to turn around and treat you like one of his coworkers it must’ve been bad but you weren’t sure how open he would be to telling you what happened. In fact, he didn’t seem that open to even talking to you at all.

You wanted to help but there was only so much you could do when he wasn’t physically hurt.

You thought about ditching him for the day, going over to a friend’s or anywhere else. It hurt to want to get away from him but you weren’t too keen on shooting a gun, in fact it made you feel queasy just thinking about it.

Simon wouldn’t let you get out even if you tried. If you left, you were sure he would say that you could do it tomorrow instead then. Once he had his mind set on something it was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not.

You clenched your jaw and huffed, unable to stomach the food in front of you anymore. Instead you stood up and threw the rest of it away, trying your hardest to not let your bad mood ruin the rest of the day as you rubbed your temple.

It was going to rain today and you needed a jacket.

Dead leaves crunched underneath your shoes as you followed closely behind Simon. The air was thick with the smell of rain and the dark clouds on the horizon didn’t bode well for either of you as you wandered down a beaten path within the secluded woods. You weren’t entirely sure where you were and if it was legal to practice shooting out here but you trusted your roommate enough to not get the both of you arrested.

Neither of you had said that many words to each other since breakfast. You were a little curious as to why he chose the woods instead of a firing range, to which he replied by saying he’d much rather be the one to teach than anyone else.

It was hard to talk to him through his stilted speech and cold demeanor. He didn’t seem like he wanted to speak or be spoken to all that much, which worried you as much as it made you upset. He dragged you out here, the least he could do was tell you why and to not be an asshole about it.

You watched him carefully, eyeing the bag he had strapped over his shoulder and felt yourself go sick again. The walk was only making it worse as anticipation settled in your stomach, your nerves fraying at the thought of having to practice shooting a weapon.

Simon stopped abruptly in a small clearing and dropped the bag off his shoulder. He didn’t say anything to you as he dug through it and you struggled to find your voice as you watched him.

A lump formed in your throat when he pulled out the pistol and you instinctively took a step back from him. You kept your hands in the pockets of your jacket, giving him an uncertain look when he turned towards you with the gun dwarfed in his hands.

He held the gun out for you to take and gave you an expectant look. When you didn’t move to take it, his eyes softened and he sighed as he stepped closer to you with the gun still held out for you.

“Safety’s on, there’s nothing in it.” He assured you in the soft voice you were used to and you bit your lip. “Just hold it for now.”

You hesitated for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, before you grabbed it. Your eyes widened when you realized how heavy it was and you couldn’t help but marvel about the fact that he made it look so easy. You held it awkwardly away from you as if it were a dirty rag and you looked up at Simon for him to do something.

The soft look had disappeared from his eyes and he held you under a scrutinizing gaze that made you frown. Simon grunted and he grabbed your wrist with a cold grip. He moved your hands for you rather roughly and squeezed them tightly against the gun.

“Squeeze it hard and keep your finger off the trigger.” He told you and you did as he said. “Hold it up.”

“Ask me nicer.” You sent him a sharp look but he didn’t look at you as he patted your arm.

“Up.”

You huffed and did as he said, holding it up the best you could without any other kind of practice. You let him stand behind you and put you into the correct standing position, ignoring the way your body grew goosebumps from his touch and instead focused on the bubbling irritation inside of you.

He was nitpicking and if you were experienced perhaps you would’ve understood why but this was the first time you had ever had contact with a real gun and even though it wasn’t loaded you were still nervous to even hold it.

Maybe if he was being nicer you would've been fine with it. You weren’t exactly the type of person to take this kind of talk since you had never been to a bootcamp or ever intended to. In fact, you were far from the right person to ask to shoot a gun and yet he seemed to think you were.

The wind had started to pick up and the darker clouds had moved in above you. The rain couldn’t come quick enough and you ended up ignoring whatever Simon was saying in order to stare up at the sky.

“Keep your head down and look in the sights before you shoot.” He positioned your head for you and you suppressed an eyeroll.

“Simon there’s no point in this.” You groaned but he ignored you as he walked back towards his bag. “I’m more likely to get myself hurt than someone else hurting me.”

“Not if you pay attention to what I’m saying.”

“If you actually talk to me instead of boss me around maybe I would.”

“If you’d stop complaining I wouldn’t have to boss you around.”

You scoffed with disbelief, giving him an incredulous look as you watched him pull out the magazine to the gun. You shook your head when he turned around to hand it to you and stepped back with a serious look in your eyes.

“I’m not shooting it.” You said firmly, metaphorically putting your foot down on the matter.

Simon tense up and stared down at you with dark eyes. He gripped the magazine firmly in his hand as he breathed just a bit faster. You watched as a look of desperation flashed in his eyes before he held the magazine out for you again.

“You are.” He said, his voice full of enough authority to make your mouth dry “Now take it.”

“I’m not one of your soldiers so stop treating me like one!” You snapped, your voice echoing slightly off the trees.

Thunder rolled above you and you felt a few drops of rain hit your head as you glared at him. You glared at Simon, shaking with anger as you tried your hardest to calm yourself down. You had spent nearly the entire day being scrutinized, spoken down to, and disregarded. You had half the mind to walk away from him and leave him if it weren’t for the fact that he had the keys to the car.

You were frozen with anger, unable to move as you gave him the nastiest glare you could muster. You were done with this, done with him treating you this way. There was no way you were going to let him get away with this any longer and if he wanted to even think about sleeping in the same bed as you tonight he had better apologize.

“You need to learn this.” He demanded with a glare of his own as if he couldn’t believe you fed up with him. “You have to protect yourself.”

“From who? Who’s coming after me, Simon?” You demanded but he shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter who, just shoot the bloody gun!”

You tossed the empty gun on the ground in defiance and balled your fists. You tried your hardest to stop yourself from shaking but you failed miserably.

“Simon, you’re having a bad day and I will never fault you for that but there is no reason for you to take it out on me.” You began, keeping your voice as level as possible. “You’re acting like a dick and I won’t let you talk to me this way.”

There was a slight panicked look in his eyes behind the anger as he clenched his jaw.

“You don’t understand-“

“Then tell me!”

Simon tensed up and force. He didn’t say anything and you waited for him to give you some kind of explanation. You saw him open his mouth from behind the mask but nothing came out as his eyes bounced around your face in a frenzy. For a moment you wondered if he was shaking and he clenched his fists tightly before he looked away from you.

He fought with himself, you saw him debate it and you felt more raindrops hit your head.

You waited.

But he was silent.

You shook your head in disbelief as the rain began to pour. The more you watched him tense up and struggle to speak, the more your anger mixed with concern as you watched fear flash in his eyes. You could only guess what was wrong, what had made him so afraid to turn this cold because he refused to tell you.

He didn’t tell you he was in the military before and getting him to tell you that was hard but now he wouldn’t tell you what was wrong for whatever reason. Maybe someone was out to get you, maybe he was trying to make it so you wouldn’t be scared and failed miserably but you didn't know.

Was he scared of what you’d say? That you wouldn’t care even after what happened today? You had no idea and you felt stuck, frustrated that you hadn’t pushed him more earlier, frustrated that he closed himself off from you even though you were so willing to listen.

It made your heart ache and yet you were so hurt.

“What happened?” You were desperate. “Just tell me, let me help you.”

“We’re leaving.” He cleared his throat just loud enough for you to hear him over the rain before he went to pick up the gun.

You clenched your jaw tightly, your stomach dropping and churning into a mess before you made your way back to the car without waiting for him. The cold rain beat against you, soaking through your clothes and seeping into your bones, stealing away the fiery anger while leaving all of the hurt and frustration inside of you.

Tears burned in your eyes and your throat tightened, causing you to walk faster. You weren’t sure why, it wasn’t like you could hide in the car, not when it was the only way for you to get back to the apartment, not when Simon had to be in there with you.

You were thankful the doors were unlocked when you finally reached the car and you all but slammed the passenger side door as you jumped inside.

The sound of heaving rain hit the car and filled up the silence. You crossed your arms over you as you shivered slightly and felt rain water drip off your clothes onto the seat and floor below you. You fought against letting the tears and you kept yours glued to your wet shoes when you heard the trunk of the car open.

You couldn’t understand it, no matter how hard you tried to. There was no reason for any of this to happen, you had never felt unsafe since you moved in with him and yet he seemed to believe you were a walking target. He had told you he worked around dangerous people, that his line of work was dangerous, but he never told you anything else.

Did he truly think he was that dangerous? That you had to be extra careful and learn how to protect yourself because of him? You could’ve reassured him better since it was clear he was anxious about the topic, but he had been so closed off since the moment you spoke with him this morning. For a moment you couldn’t come up with a reason why he had put up a wall between the two of you until you remembered what he said the night he came back.

“You wouldn’t be safe around me.”

Your eyes widened and you watched him from the rearview mirror through tears.

Simon was trying to push you away. It was obvious but the reasoning behind it made it worse to come to terms with and you couldn’t help the few tears that rolled down your face as you bit back a sob.

He was pushing you away because he truly believed he was a danger to your safety. He was trying to make it easier for you to leave him because of that, you were sure of it, but the thought made your chest hurt and it had never crossed your mind.

Was he going to if you didn’t? A sob escaped you and you placed a hand over your mouth as more tears rolled down your cheeks.

Selfish.

It was harsh but that was the only thing you could think to call him inside your head as you shook in your seat. He was trying to make a decision for you and it made everything come crashing down harder, it made everything hurt worse as you thought about him leaving you over the false idea that he would eventually end up putting you in danger.

The driver side door opened and turned your head to look out the window. You sniffled and tried to wipe the tears away as the door shut, blocking out the rain once more, leaving you both in silence.

You couldn’t let him get away with it. You couldn’t let him leave, not when you loved him as much as you did.

“I meant it.” Your voice was shaky from trying to force the tears away as you refused to look at him, knowing you’d cry even more. “I’m here for you.”

Simon stayed quiet for a long time. You could hear his strained and heavy breathing from behind the mask, as if someone was choking him. His hands were in his lap as he balled them up into fists while he glared out the window at the rain that pelted off the windshield.

“I know.”

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to wipe the tears away. You swallowed hard and gathered the courage to look at him so you could change his mind, so you could break down his walls again.

You were surprised to see that he was already looking at you, dark eyes full of hurt and guilt that deepened when he saw the tear streaks on your cheeks. He clenched his fists tighter and he flinched as if he was going to touch you but stopped himself.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

“You don’t want to hear it.”

You groaned and wiped more tears away as you shook your head. Stubborn, always so stubborn and you wished he could see how much you loved him despite that.

“Don’t tell me what I want. I know what I want and it's for me to be with you, through all of it.”

Simon stared at you and for a moment you wondered if he was going to speak. He slipped off his mask and you watched him open his mouth as uncertainty flashed across his face. He looked stuck, as if the words physically wouldn’t come out of his mouth before he looked away from you and started the car.

Your face scrunched up and your lip quivered. You turned your entire body away from him and sniffled, trying your best to hold in any sounds while tears flowed freely down your face. You hugged yourself and instead watched the raindrops hit your window as everything became blurry.

The ride back to the apartment was painfully quiet, with the occasional sniffles and shaky breaths from you as you tried to calm yourself down to no avail. You didn’t dare to look over at him and you knew that he wouldn’t say a word regardless if you did or not.

It was as if there was a wall between you both, built by you being hurt and Simon choosing to not trust you enough to let you back in. He was determined to keep you out, to push you away in the name of keeping you safe from his burdens when you’d gladly carry them with him.

You were out of the car before it even stopped and you didn’t wait for Simon to follow. You were past caring about how soaked you were and how when you opened the front door you were most likely tracking mud in as well, all you wanted to do was be alone.

You rushed to the bathroom and nearly slammed the door, unable to keep the storm of tears that welled up as a new wave of emotions hit you now that you were in the safety of your apartment. A broken sob left your chest as you placed your hands over your face and crumpled to the floor, trying your hardest to keep your voice down but failing miserably to do so.

The floor was cold and it didn’t help that you were drenched but you couldn’t move from your spot right against the door. All you could do was hug your knees close to your chest and sob into them with the knowledge that Simon was most likely in the hallway listening to you the entire time.

You’re not sure how long you cried for. All of the emotions slowly fell out of you along with the tears and soon you were left sniffling, rubbing your nose and eyes raw as your breathing went back to normal. Enough time had passed that you weren’t dripping water onto the floor anymore but not enough to where the storm hadn’t stopped.

It took you a while to push yourself off the floor and when you did, you went straight for the shower.

You didn’t waste any time throwing your clothes on the floor, feeling a lot less uncomfortable now that they were off your skin, and turned the shower on. As soon as it was hot enough, you hopped in and let the water soothe your skin. You didn’t move to wash your body or your hair, all you did was stand there with absolutely no thoughts in your mind as you were too exhausted to even think.

That was until you heard a knock on the door.

For a split second you thought about ignoring him, but your heart ached at the thought and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

No matter how mad you were, how hurt you were, you couldn’t push him away.

“Simon?” You croaked, your throat raw from crying.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

You poked your head out from behind the shower curtain when he stepped inside. You watched him shut the door and his eyes widened when he saw that you were staring at him insteading of showering.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, the silence not as tense as it was before as he stared at you with guilt and regret. You waited for him to speak as he held his hands awkwardly by his side before he glanced away from you.

“I’m…” He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “Can I join you?”

You didn’t hesitate to nod.

Maybe you should’ve, maybe you were being too lenient towards him after how he hurt your feelings but you didn’t want to fight. You were far past your anger, you just wanted to feel his arms around you, you wanted to comfort him and you wanted to work out whatever the both of you were feeling despite how you felt.

And you hoped that he felt the same.

You hid back behind the curtain once he started to get undressed. Your heart rate picked up as you realized that he was getting in the shower with you, that he was going to see you in your most vulnerable state you could be in. You almost scolded yourself. This wasn’t the time to act shy about him seeing you naked for the first time and yet you couldn’t make yourself turn around when you heard him step in behind you.

He stood awkwardly behind you and you stepped out of the way so some of the water would hit him. His knuckles gently brushed against your spine and you shivered before you stepped back towards him, craving more from his touch, more from him.

Simon hesitated to rest his hands on your hips, the warmth from his palms radiating onto your skin and causing goosebumps to form as you drew in a sharp breath while you felt your stomach flip.

“Is this okay?” He mumbled and you didn’t trust your voice so you only nodded.

You waited for him to pull you back into him or for him to move closer but he never did. Instead, you felt his forehead softly connect with the back of yours as his hands held onto your hips so gently you wondered if maybe he was even touching you.

His warm breath against the nape of your neck made you shiver again and for a few moments you both didn’t say a word to each other.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper as it broke between shaky breaths.

Your mind and emotions betrayed you as tears welled up in your eyes again. You took a shaky breath as you tried to blink them away. Those hurt feelings popped back up and gnawed against your chest but you also felt relief from his words.

He was being genuine. He was always genuine and you couldn’t mistake the guilt in his voice for anything else, especially as he swallowed hard. You didn’t have to turn around to know what he looked like; the pain in his beautiful dark brown eyes that was sure to stick there any time he looked at you, the crease in his brow that would never cease to exist, and the frown that was plastered on his face.

“You can’t push me away and expect me to be okay with it.” You said softly as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I know.” He mumbled but you shook your head.

Did he know? Did he know that you were there for him no matter what? That you wanted him when he locked himself away in his room after coming home from wherever he went, or when he came home bleeding to death, or when he was anything but happy?

You weren’t sure if he did, if he truly knew just how much you loved him.

You pulled his hands off your hips as you turned around to face him, your heart breaking when you saw his bloodshot eyes and the deep regret within them. He looked exhausted, more than you had realized after seeing him all day today and you wondered if maybe he had slept last night.

When you cupped his cheek he flinched away from your touch for a split second. His eyes narrowed and you watched as more pain flashed through them when he leaned into your palm. He placed a hand on your hip again, gently digging his fingers into your flesh as your thumb traced the scar close to his eye as if the very touch of comfort made him tense.

You could tell he was resisting it without pulling away from you. He wasn’t able to hide the conflict in his eyes and it made you nearly sob.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” You wondered, desperate to understand why he could give so much without accepting what you wanted to give.

Simon swallowed hard and for a moment it looked like he was going to run away. You saw the same panicked look in his eyes he had from before and you held his face with both of your hands.

He shut his eyes tight as he was trying to hide his from you and placed his hands on top of yours. He drew in a shaky breath and clenched his jaw tight before he spoke.

“I’m afraid you’ll realize I’m not worth it.”

A few more tears rolled down your cheeks and you shook your head. How awful it was to have a mind tell lies like that, you couldn’t believe that he would think you’d find him unworthy of your support, of your love, that he’d thought you would see him that way.

“No.” Your voice cracked and he opened his eyes to look at you. “You are worth it to me because it’s you.”

Simon stared at you with uncertainty, his eyes searching deep within yours as if he were looking for the lie when you were being as truthful as you could ever be. He blinked and a tear escaped down his face before you quickly wiped it away, watching as his shoulders sagged before he leaned fully into you.

You locked him into a tender kiss that he hesitated to reciprocate until you made it clear you weren’t pulling away any time soon. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he held your waist, deepening the kiss as he desperately moved his lips against your own as if you’d disappear right in front of him.

His fingers dug into your skin and you gasped as he caged you to the shower wall. He moved his hands up and down your body, purposefully avoiding any of the places that burned for him as his calluses scratched your skin.

He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours as he looked deep into your eyes. He was out of breath as he gave you a desperate look, a final plea for reassurance.

“Forgive me.”

“Please don’t push me away again.”

“Promise.”

Simon pressed another kiss to your lips slower but no less desperate as he cupped your jaw with his large hand. He stole your breath away and pressed his body against yours, rubbing his half hard cock against your inner thigh.

You gasped when you felt it and opened your legs for him to step as close as he could. Breathy moans escaped your mouth when he peppered kisses from your lips to your jaw and you gripped the back of his neck as he began to suck just underneath your ear.

He rolled his hips into yours and you whined when the length of his cock ran across your slit, causing you to dig your nails into his skin. He grunted and did it again, slowly dragging his cock back and forth to gather your slick across it while he attacked the sweet spots on your neck.

His movements and the steam from the shower made you dizzy. You clung onto him as pleasure built up inside you and you kept him as close to you as possible, wanting nothing more than for him to hold you, to be inside of you.

“Feel so good…” He breathed out as he nipped your flesh and ran his tongue over the spot when you whined.

Simon trailed hot, open kisses from your neck down to your chest. He was slow as he placed them across your skin, giving every part of your breasts attention while he massaged them. There wasn’t a spot that he didn’t pass over without giving you a kiss that burned into your skin, branding you with the heat of his affection as he continued to move further down.

He kissed your stomach, his hands running across your waist and down past your hips as he mapped out every part of your body that made you perfect.

Heat washed over you as he kneeled in front of you. You shivered under his touch as he ran his hands down your legs, he pressed soft kisses across your thighs while he rubbed his cheek against your skin.

He looked up at you, dark eyes full of desire and adoration as water ran down his muscles. Deep within his eyes there was a heated need, something only you could satiate as he made himself comfortable on the shower floor. He hummed as he laid a leg over his shoulder, cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze as he moved closer to you exposed cunt which ached painfully for him. However, he didn’t move any close as he placed slower kisses to your inner thighs, sucking small marks on them as you sighed with content.

“You’re beautiful.” His warm breath against your cunt made you whimper.

“Simon…” You were breathless as he continued to kiss your thighs. “Please.”

Simon swiped his tongue across your slit and you choked out a moan. He groaned against you, the vibrations sending shock waves up your spine as you watched his eyes flutter shut once he started to eat you out.

He lapped at you like a man starved, desperate to get more of you as the taste of you drove him over the edge. He stuffed his face into your cunt, his nose rubbing against your clit as he dove his tongue inside of you like you were his last meal. His hands gripped your legs tightly, keeping you in place as you writhed against his mouth while loud moans escaped you.

The shower barely hid any of the wet noises that came from your cunt as he pressed you against the wall. He groaned into you as well and barely opened his eyes to stare at you while he sucked on your clit.

“Fuck…” You moaned and threw your head back, your hand falling into his wet hair.

Pleasure was building up inside of you quickly. You gripped his blonde locks as you stared into his hazy eyes as he sucked and licked your cunt until you were dripping into his mouth. You couldn’t find any words to say as his eyes burned into yours before the band snapped.

You came and your head lulled back. Your body twitched and your legs shook as you struggled to keep your footing, Simon having to hold you up instead so you wouldn’t fall.

Simon leaned back as you came down from your orgasm, watching as your chest rose and fell with quick breaths, face covered in your arousal before he dove back in between your legs.

“W-Wait!” You gasped as you were still feeling aftershocks.

“You can take it.” He grunted into you. “Wanna taste you.”

He held onto you possessively, as if you had a chance to run away from him, while he unraveled you from the seams. He massaged his fingers into your plump flesh, squeezing and grabbing you anywhere he could while his grunts were muffled.

You moaned writhed under his hold. Pain from the overstimulation soon turned into blinding pleasure that had you holding onto his hair for dear life in an attempt to ground yourself.

“So good, fuck you’re so good, Simon.” You babbled out, your mouth moving before your mind could catch up.

Simon moaned and he sucked on your clit harder, causing you to throw your head back. His movements became more precise and he quickened his movements while making sure to watch your every move. You didn’t miss the way the desperate look came back into his eyes at the praise, almost as if he was addicted to it just as much as he was to your taste.

He slid a finger inside of you and a choked moan escaped your throat. He moved it at a steady pace, curling it up to hit that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars while he continued to suck on your clit.

The next orgasm came quickly and hard. Your eyes rolled back and your vision went out as your body jerked from the intense pleasure that made your toes curl. You moaned and squirmed, unable to catch your breath as Simon continued to finger and eat you out.

You tried to move your hips away from him, if only just for a second of relief as but he wouldn’t let you leave. Tears blurred your vision and you grabbed his shoulder, trying to push him away while also digging your fingernails into his skin in order to keep him where he was.

You were stuck on cloud nine with blinding pleasure coursing through your veins. Your body was so hot and you felt your third orgasm approaching rapidly, suddenly the world disappeared and all you could feel was Simon.

When your walls clenched around his fingers once more and he sent you over the edge, you shook violently as not a sound escaped you.

Your body went limp and if Simon wasn’t there, kissing your heated skin as he slid his fingers out of you, you would’ve fallen to the shower floor with him. It took you a moment to open your eyes as the pleasure left your exhausted body as he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumb.

He moved your leg off his shoulder and he held you up as he stood, supporting your weight against him as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

Simon pressed a kiss to the top of your head and then to your temple. He peppered more around your face until he kissed you on the lips and held you close to his chest.

You moaned when you tasted yourself from his tongue and he turned off the shower, causing you to open your eyes in a daze.

“Don’t want you to fall on your arse.” He teased and you lazily smiled. “Can you make it to the bedroom?”

You shook your head, unable to speak through the daze of the intense pleasure slowly leaving your body and saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

You leaned forward and sloppily kissed his chest, listening to him sigh deeply before he hugged you.

A deep hum resonated from him as you kissed some of his scars, letting your hand cup his jaw as you moved to place a few kisses on his neck. You sucked on the spot that you knew made him fall apart and felt him melt in your touch, he picked you up and stepped out of the shower.

Neither of you cared about trailing water out of the bathroom as he carried you to his room. Your eyes never left one another, even as he gently placed you on his mattress as if you were made of glass despite the fact he had just devoured you moments before.

Simon climbed over top of you and he stared at you as if you were divine, like you were the one who had hung the stars in the sky and dictated when the sun would rise and fall. He brushed his fingertips across your cheek as he studied your face for the thousandth time, a loving look on his face.

You took his hand and kissed each of his knuckles while you stared at him with a warm chest. You studied the scars on his face and the way the water rolled down from his hair, going along the curve of his nose that you know has been broken many times before.

You were always captivated by his eyes, but now you couldn’t deny the fact that they were the most beautiful shade of brown you had ever seen.

“You’re beautiful.” You repeated back but you meant it with every fiber in your being.

A smile stretched across your face when you saw his cheeks flush and the tips of his ears turned red. You giggled and he bit his lip before he hid his face in the crook of your neck, stealing kisses that made you softly sigh and run your fingers through his hair.

“Never felt this way before you.” He admitted and you wrapped your arms around him.

“Is that a bad thing?” You wondered, slightly worried about what he meant until he leaned back enough that you could look into his eyes again.

“No. Never.”

You smiled and he did too. You couldn’t help the giddy feeling in your stomach as he leaned back down to kiss you on the lips, this time so much slower than the last as you both held each other. Just being in his arms made you feel safe and loved, especially as he left you in a daze from the tender kisses he left on your sore lips.

You squirmed underneath him as the kiss became heated again. You bit his bottom lip with need as you rolled your hips up into his, causing him to stifle a grunt that made you whine.

Simon kissed you a few more times before he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy clit to make you whimper. He rutted against you until you felt him slowly sink inside your achy cunt with a soft groan.

Pain surged through you from the stretch, his large cock almost too big for you and you dug your fingernails into his shoulder blades. Tears pricked your eyes and you whimpered, causing him to stop moving.

“Doing so good, love.” He cooed softly and you moaned at the pet name.

He waited a few moments before he moved again and you let out moan from the pain and the pleasure that coursed through you until he stopped again. He wasn’t even half way in and you already felt so full even after he ate you out. You wondered if you would be able to take all of him as he stretched you out like no one had before.

Simon kissed your neck and behind your ear as he rubbed circles into your hip while you clung onto him, adjusting to his size as you fought the urge to force more of him inside of you when you weren’t ready.

“What did the cucumber say to the pickle?”

“...What?”

“You mean a great dill to me.”

You snorted loudly as you looked at Simon with confusion, unsure of why he decided now of all times to tell you a joke. You couldn’t help but laugh as he stared back at you with a twinkle in his eyes before he pushed himself further into you with ease, cutting off your laugh with a moan.

He bit back a groan as well as your face contorted with pleasure and pain as he bottomed out. Both of you were out of breath even though neither of you moved while you waited for you to adjust to his size.

Once you were adjusted you rolled your hips into his and you both moaned.

Simon started slow as he dragged his cock nearly all the way out before he pushed it back in, causing your head to fall back onto the mattress. The air was knocked out of your lungs as he began to thrust into you at a steady pace, quickly losing yourself in the feeling of him all the way in your stomach.

He leaned down and attacked your neck, quickening his pace which caused you to let out breathless moans. His hand traveled up to your breasts where he toyed with your nipples while he other hand grabbed your leg and pushed it up to your chest.

You moaned loudly and tugged on his hair as the new angle let him reach deep inside of you, hitting that spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Fucking hell you feel so good.” He grunted and locked your lips in a kiss. “Like you were made for me.”

You whimpered, already feeling the pleasure building up within you again. It was only amplified when he pushed you down against the mattress to thrust as deep as he could. You were a moaning mess, any thoughts were gone from your mind as he bullied his cock inside of you without any chance to take a breather.

Simon kissed you anywhere he could. He didn’t spare a single spot, placing kisses on your neck, face and collarbone while he pressed his body against you impossibly close.

He stifled a whine when you ran your hand through his hair and down his neck, dragging your fingernails across his muscles as you held him.

You clenched around him, your walls tightening as he continued to hit that spot inside of you that had you crying out his name. You hooked your legs on his hips, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt yourself get closer and closer.

“No.” Simon grunted when he pushed himself up. He grabbed your jaw and gave you a firm squeeze to make you look at him. “Keep your eyes on me, pretty girl. Wanna see you cum again.”

All you could do was nod as he deepened his thrusts, dragging out a whine from you when you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. You writhed underneath him, the all too familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching you fast as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“That’s it.” He panted as he grabbed your hand and threaded his fingers between yours, squeezing it firmly. “Come on my cock.”

Your back arched off the bed as your orgasm hit you so fiercely you wondered if maybe you looked possessed. You couldn’t see anything as your entire body shook once more, your legs going limp while electricity surged through you. You couldn’t even moan as the air was knocked out of you when Simon quickened his pace.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking marks into your skin as he came inside you, filling you up and making you full. He lazily thrust himself into a few more times, sending shock waves through the both of you until he finally came to a stop.

Both of you were silent for a few moments as you caught your breath. Neither one of you moved from the other, keeping each other locked in a rather warm and sticky embrace from the sweat that had accumulated on your skin.

Simon still held your hand, his thumb rubbing into your skin while you squeezed it a few times.

After a moment of reprieve, he slowly slid out of you. The drag from his cock made you whimper and you were met with his lips pressing soft kisses to yours, causing your eyes to close.

“Clean you up.” He mumbled and you hummed, a small smile spreading across your face.

“Can you get water too?” You asked sweetly as if he’d say no to you.

“Anything else?”

You shook your head and reluctantly let him go after kissing him a few more times. You laid in his bed for a moment, a slight chill running across your skin as you fought back the urge to roll over and fall asleep in the scent of Simon.

Soon he came back and cleaned you up while you practically chugged the water he gave you. He scoffed and pressed a few chaste kisses on your leg before he tossed the dirty towel on the floor somewhere. Without another word, he climbed into bed with you, tugging you close to his chest before he threw the blankets on top of you both.

Your head rested against his chest and you listened to his steady heartbeat while he rubbed his thumb across your hairline. You didn’t say anything as you traced the scars that pepper his skin, smiling to yourself when he would shudder and when goosebumps with form soon after.

Your hand traveled further down and you very carefully ran your finger across the wound in his side, counting the stitches he had. You frowned when you counted at least nine of them and you nuzzled your head further into his chest as you tried to ignore the pit in your stomach.

“I have nightmares almost every night.” Simon whispered suddenly and your eyebrows knitted together. “It’s rare that I sleep.”

You bit your bottom lip, feeling a deep sadness crawl into your chest as you fought back the urge to tear up at his words. Instead, you continued to trace the scars you saw and took a deep breath.

“Did you have a nightmare that scared you?” You whispered back and he nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Simon curled his arms around you protectively. He shook ever so slightly and you pressed comforting kisses to his chest as he stayed silent for a long while. He swallowed hard and his breathing became heavier while you waited patiently for him to continue or for him to tell you he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You died.” He exhaled sharply and you pressed yourself further into him. “I wasn’t there to protect you and you didn’t know how to.”

There was a beat and he let out a shaky breath. You turned your attention to him, looking up into his eyes to see a pain that made your heart shatter. He wasn’t going to tell you the details, but you gathered from the way there were tears in his eyes and from how scared he had been earlier today, that whatever had happened in the dream left him broken.

You rubbed comforting circles into his skin.

“I should’ve told you, I just…” He cleared his throat and shut his eyes tight. “Can’t lose you.”

You shushed him softly and pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms around him comfortingly as he sniffled. You ran your hands through his hair as you tried to soothe him, feeling the fear he had held down since this morning ease into the air.

He held you back firmly and took a deep breath, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m here.” You reassured him and he sighed. “I know you’re scared but I’m safe because of you.”

Simon didn’t say anything as he squeezed you and you stayed quiet, mumbling soft reassurances in his ear.

Even if there was something that had to be done, neither of you were getting out of bed for the rest of the day.

Link to part 9

A/N: the long awaited chapter. Hope you guys like the smut, it was meant to be intimate and passionate but that might've gotten lost in the writing lol. Next one will have less arguments, more fun, but still angst cause unfortunately things can’t always be happy

The tag list is closed!! I am so happy that so many of you want to be tagged for this story but I will not be accepting anymore requests to tag people in this series since this list has gotten long and it's hard to keep track of how many I have to add! Sorry for the inconvenience!

Tags:

@kat-nee @alexwashere82 @suicidal-marshmellow @shuttlelauncher81 @poohkie90 @reiya-djarin @k4marina @mionacaped @igotmajordaddyissues @xxghostyx @pasta-m1lk @imstargazing @jacksonpleasestopkillingme @kgive @konig-is-bbygrl @lialacleaf @frazie99 @gremlin-ghuleh @spencerreidisbae123 @alastorhazbin @writingmysanity @lillianastuff @alastorhazbin @reid490 @lockleywife @sheepselecric @dead-noodles @marshmallowtraver @sinclairbrosbathmat @sofasoap @crazyfandomist @iwmtfm @oiiviagrande @genesis1363 @revyjerry @guttabutta00 @greenkiki @d4z01 @quietlyignoringyou @mysticalgalaxysalad @almightywdm @maviee @lycheedr3ams @multitargaryen @fruitymoonbeams-blog @lilpothoscuttings @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @adriennepoison

#the roommate series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #call of duty

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targaryenluvs · 6 months

Text

BREAKUPS & MAKEUPS

pairing: finnick odair x fem!victor!reader

summary: you and finnick used to date, but it took a nasty turn when you heard rumours of his dalliances. but now the two of you reunite apart of the same alliance. will you breakup or makeup? again?

warnings: major flirting, TEARS, confrontation, mentions of cheating and rumours, insinuations, heavy tension and make outs, miscommunication and my terrible descriptions of make outs?? inappropriate talks n teasing, motherly mags

word count: 2.1k

a/n: old married couple bickering is my fav NOT PROOFREAD

you’d hoped you’d never see him again, only on screens and what not. but of course you’d get fucked over like this. ignoring him in the training quarters was one thing but the arena?

you were angry. so was everyone else in the room of course. rather than lashing out at people you figured channeling your energy into training was a much better outlet.

the daggers in your hands were nothing but iconic. you felt like you were in your own games again. having them in your hands felt, odd, but familiar. like a distant memory in the back of your mind. but it was muscle memory when it came to training as you stood upright. your arm retracted back and launched forwards, again and again.

“what’d the target do to you?” the dreaded voice you’d been hoping to avoid under all measures, and he was right behind you. “finnick, to what do i owe the pleasure?” he looked down at the floor and then back at you before grinning, “felt you were missing me, and perhaps my face would reinvigorate your training.” you smiled sweetly, and he could tell it was fake. as much as you hated it, the two of you knew eachother all too well.

“you were wrong but great guess. see you around.” you placed the remaining daggers down and made your way to move around him but he held his hand out, placing it against a wall and blocking your path. “come on honey, talk to me.” you raised your hand and patted his cheek, “i’d rather not.” you smiled at him again before ducking underneath his arm.

he reclined his head back and groaned. were you seriously going to ignore him this whole time?

your feet pounded against the rocky shore as you reached the cornicopia and headed for your daggers and sword. of course a heavy sword wasn’t always the most practical, but you’d trained with it for so long it was more than easy to use. you may be small but you sure as hell weren’t weak. but one look at finnick, with wet hair, dripping down and his arms flexing as he picked up his trident sent your head into spiral.

“sweetheart you know i love it when you stare but right now is not the time.” you scoffed, “whatever, now duck.” the dagger you released went right through a tribute behind finnick as katniss approached you both, taking note of finnicks gold bracelet and your golden necklace.

“good thing we’re allies right?” finnick grinned whilst showing off his bracelet. “where did you get your jewellery?” katniss was not in the mood to play around, neither were you since you saw finnicks face. just your luck, you were in the same alliance as him. “where do you think?” you and finnick spoke in unison as you threw an annoyed glance his way. copycat.

“where’s your fiancé?” you asked as finnick walked past the two of you and around the corner before yelling out to the pair of you that mags had found him.

as much as you’d rather move on and away from them you stayed. when finnick didn’t resurface you held your breath, he was okay right? he was an amazing swimmer, there’s no way he’d drown or anything. the sigh you let out when he came back to land was too big for your liking and even he could tell you were relieved.

“i knew you still cared about me.” finnick laughed as you all walked through the jungle. “you never stop talking do you? you were always the chatty one.” you wanted to tear out his eyes, or his tongue. all you wanted was to walk in peace and you knew he’d never let that happen. he wouldn’t stop staring at you and you hated it, he loved doing it since he knew it always got you flustered.

you were his entertainment source.

“well someone had to be. you usually only talked to a few people. but you always talked to me, especially when we were in bed.”

“god you’re so inappropriate.”

“you like inappropriate. i remember a captiol dinner party and a bathroom-”

“shush!” you whisper-yelled as he laughed again.

“did you two use to date or something?” peeta asked as he chopped away at the greenery. your dramatic sigh and slumped shoulders gave you away, “sadly, yes.” finnick bumped your arm with his, “it wasn’t all bad. we were quite the pair if i do say so myself.” you waved him off as you continued to walk.

“you’re a bit red in the face there.” your hand reached up as you subconsciously touched your face to gage your temperature. “am i? who would’ve thought a hot rainforest would overheat someone especially after they haven’t drunk water in a while.” you stated the obvious whilst finnick raised his eyebrows, “only reason you have?” you breathed in and out before facing his way,

“yes.”

you could practically feel his amusement and you saw him nodding along. “you are quite literally one of the most hydrated people i know. you’d always remind me to hydrate and there’s no way you didn’t drink water beforehand and you care about your self a lot.”

“how on earth do you make teasing someone so nice and why the hell do you remember all that?” finnick shrugged, “i remember things about people i like.” you smiled, “oh. that’s sweet.”

“especially the gorgeous ones.” and he was back.

you rolled your eyes again, “of course you’d say that. your voice does my head in, i’m going to walk with someone i actually like.” you emphasised on the last word as you quickened your pace to match mags.

“oh don’t be sour sweetie.” finnick teased as you flicked him the finger. mags noticed and pinched your cheek, “ow! okay okay, i’m sorry.” peeta laughed and so did katniss, it was like watching two kids be chastised by their own mother.

katniss was on night watch and you were wide awake. this certainly wasn’t how you were expecting to see finnick again, let alone sleep with him. well next to him. turns out he wasn’t either.

as much as his presence and speech exuded confidence his mind was hazy. being so near to you, talking to you and being with you. it was driving him crazy. and as much as he joked and teased, all he wanted was to be with you again. he thought you wanted anything but. “can’t sleep?” damn him and his observant self. “mhm, you?” he turned his head your way and you looked to his. “why’d you cheat on me?” you blurted out at him and as soon as you saw his eyebrows furrow you wanted to drown yourself in the water.

he sat up immediately and you did too. “cheat? what’re you talking about y/n/n?” it was your turn to be confused, “my friends old me about the rumours. that you got with some girl from four whilst i was in the captiol for adrenias wedding.” about three years ago it was your favourite stylists third wedding and she would not take a no for an answer. “i never- who told you that? amelia?” of course he’d randomly remember things about you, and the people around.

“no- maybe- yes. it really did hurt me. if you didn’t want to be with me anymore you should’ve just said something to me rather than cheating on me finn.” his breath hitched at his nickname and he couldn’t help but admire you.

even if you were all tired out and sweaty you looked as gorgeous as he remembered. your hair was tied up per usual, your cheeks were flushed and your eyes were teary. finnick couldn’t help but remember how much he still loved you. he’d never cheated on you, he would and will never cheat on you. you were one of the few people in his life he truly cared for and he lost you. it was one thing for the two of you to break up but he never knew why.

you’d stopped talking to him or sending correspondence via letter. every time he reached out to talk to you or meet you, finnick was met with excuses. somehow he was never able to walk over to your house at the right time. in the mornings you’d be asleep and he wouldn’t want to wake you. the afternoons meant you were visiting friends, shopping for groceries, working in town, teaching kids to fish. you loved your district and you hated being alone in the house. your parents lived in their own home and worked in a job they liked. your siblings were happily married and after breaking up with finnick you were practically alone.

and so was finnick.

you didn’t mean to get emotional but you’d never ever fully gotten over it, over him.

having him infront of you and listening to you when you never had the courage to tell him about what you’d heard was oddly horrifying. the idea of listening to his side of the story? he was an annoying ass you wanted to leave behind but something about his expression let you know that there was something wrong.

finnick grabbed your chin to have you looking at him before holding your hands. “i never cheated on you y/n.”and there it was, your relationships saving grace. “but- the rumours?” you were crying and he was tearing up, “you broke up with me over rumours? we wasted three years of our lives because you-” his voice broke and yours was wavering. you clutched onto his hands, as if he would slip away without. “i’m so sorry finn, i always felt like you deserved someone better than me. everyone loves you and i felt like i couldn’t be the girl you wanted. when amelia told me i felt like it was an opening, i didn’t want to hold you back.”

you looked like a trainwreck but finnick couldn’t care less, he had the girl of his dreams back in his arms again and he’d be damned if let you go again.

“y/n you are everything i’ve ever wanted. when you stopped talking to me i thought i did something wrong.” you shook your head immediately, “no you didn’t it was all me.” finnicks hands were on your face as he leaned his forehead against yours, “i would never cheat on you and i never did. i love you y/n, i’ve loved you for so long and when you wouldn’t talk to me i didn’t know what to do, i was lost and it felt like the only light in my life was gone. i promise i’ll get you out of here, i promise.”

the kiss was desperate and heated and everything you’d ever wanted. his hands were frantic and roaming, muscle memory, his grip was iron tight on your waist as he pushed you onto the ground as he separated from you.

“i love you, i love you, i love you.” he muttered as he kissed you again and moved to your neck as your hands tangled in his hair. the salty smell of him was nothing short of home.

finnick was your home and you’d navigated your way back to him and he had to you. two lost wanders finding solace and comfort in a kindred soul, a fairytale ending.

the one you both deserved.

the shuffling in the distance and katniss announcing the fog brought you out of paradise but not before one last kiss.

“i missed you.” you whispered as he grinned,

“i know.”

#finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair x female reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x reader #hunger games x reader

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cookiepie111 · 8 months

Text

࿐Drink from the leche of sirens࿐

Synopsis - An injury könig comes across a lake and pretty nymph. Greek au könig x black nymph reader. No minors. Smut

Part 2 here

A/N-

An alternate to the fountain girl fic I wrote.

Think this might be the longest thing I've written. There is a Pinterest mood board here. Shout out to @cinnamonbunboii cause their comment inspired this fic. Please like and reblog!

Tags: @terra-713 @cinnamonbunboii @kneelingshadowsalome @bucca2

𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼

Deities are petty beings, twisting the hearts of humans when things don't go their way. König and his army may have won the battle but the casualties were high, he himself was beat and bruised. Its just a game to them and what do you do when you're losing and angry, you flip out, over turn the board and scatter the pieces. Think of a new way to win while your opponent garthers up their fallen pieces.

Scattered by the wind, what a cliche but it works, in all the commotion the soldiers were separated, placed in every which direction, on land, and both above and below the heavens. How petty all this because you lost. Somehow this wasn't the worst part of könig's day just the final cherry on top the shitty Sunday the gods gave him. His lover betrayed him, separated from his allies, battered and bruised and now there's nothing around him but trees. If not for the situation and burning rage in his heart he'd find the place quite peaceful, beautiful even, a nice place to die.

The deeper könig went into the forest the more the atmosphere changed, trees bend and shift, covering the sky above. The slow dance of leaves and bright glow of the fireflies. All of it leading up to a lake in the clearing. It all felt too to unnatural to be real, like sweet honey leading him a trap. Pressing into the wound at his side, the sharp pain brought him back to his senses, this isn't the place to lose one's mind he'd need to keep his wits about him if he wanted to live.

Even if he doesn't want to accept it there's no denying this would be a beautiful place to die. Even now he hates himself for still thinking of her, even at the moment of his death she still has place in his mind. she'd love this place, a backdrop like this would only accentuate her beauty more.

He walked close to the lake feeling the trees shift around him again. Laying back on the trees bark sword placed on the ground.

The waters surface ripples altering könig to the figure in the lake, its shape he couldn't quite make out. A head, a person maybe. This place could be cursed, it wouldn't surprise him. He stares back never removing his eyes from them watching as they stay just below the water.

If he's intruded on some beings land they'll just have to put up with him or force him out. He's got enough strength for one last fight. It is after all the way of the warrior to go out fighting he thinks, unsteady as he pushes off the tree bark.

You can't remember the last time you saw another human here, they often end up with your older sister although you doubt they've all been this large and imposing. Even injured he carries himself very well. The cut in his stomach only causing him to hunch over, you doubt the blood covering him is his own.

Once at the water's edge the thoughts of battle quickly die down. It a woman in the water, human she is not but a woman still. The skin of human women doesn't glow or shine. Their skin isn't adorned with scales of greans and blue hues around their eyes nor does their hair shift and swirl like small currents atop the waters surface like yours. No those features that were that of nymph. Women of nature blessed with great beauty. And unfortunately for könig drowners of men.

His odds are about 50/50 he wouldn't drown so easily but that wasn't a risk he wanted to take, with his body is failing him now, heavy breaths as he falls back to the ground. Eyes still on the nymph at his front, she makes no move, just watching.

It takes a few moments for her to move a few more heavy breaths and groans from könig for her to lift from the water.

When she comes out to meet him she bare. Thin pieces of fabric dropping over her waist and chest slipping under her right breast, past her womanhood, more like an accessory one would add cause they thought it looked nice than a piece of clothing. Thick curly hair swirling around her body

To think he could still get hard at a time like this.

Drowning doesn't seem so bad now if it is by her hand.Maybe a kiss from them would send him peaceful into the afterlife.

She stood over him head tilling side from side,trying to figure the man out. He hasn't said anything, he doesn't shout or draw his sword like the other men she's seen. He's also taller, bigger, more.... solid than other men, gracing a hand down his arm. Kneeling beside him, the injury is worse than she thought. did one of the gods bring him here? Or did he just wonder here himself? You held your chin swaying on your heels deep in thought

König felt delirious, he's injured, lost and now there's a pretty nymph circling round, staring, pocking and prodding at him. If this was any other situation he'd take her in the moment. Hull her over his shoulder and fuck her till scream or blesses him, gives him heavenly children. But he's tired and weak, he can do nothing but watch as she frees his egear cock from his tunic.

He's never felt like this before, grunting and wincing under her touch. He's sure she's sucking the energy out of him. Maybe its the bloodloss maybe it the fire at the groin the licking and kissing along his shaft causing the dizziness in him, eyes shut tight and panting as he comes closer to the edge but the release never comes. feeling her tongue stroke the entire length of him as she comes up.

The next moment for könig were pure bliss, something straight out of dream. To have her now Straddling him bouncing so eagerly on his cock, was a feeling he could never forget. The sweet stretch as she sank. It was frustrating not being able to touch her, She didn't move fast enough not for könig liking. He was too weak to set the pace, his hand only able to rest on the plush of her hip. Even if she used him like a toy könig couldn't help but throw his head back in pleasure at the squeeze of her soft walls.

Her hands explored the body under her, digging into the wounds, ignoring his hisses and complaints, pushing him back down before he finds the strength to push her off. It felt hot then numb, as she dug into his wounds.

With new found strength he bucked his hips, against her. The sound of their love making filling the forest air, his hands firmly at her hips to move her at a pace he found fit, fast and messy before emptying himself inside her.

When he finally came back down from the high he finds her form shake and ripple above him. The words die on his tongue, as her form melts down, and fades away into the water

He gets up able without stumbling this time walking straight finding himself back at the army base. König's honestly not sure if that really happened or if he was just crazy. He has nothing to show for the whole ordeal to prove it was real. He knows on the brink of the death the mind can conger all sorts of things to keep one alive but nothing could explain sleeping with a water nymph. he'd like to think he wasn't deranged...To imagine sleeping with being that would normally drown you but...

The only evidence he had was his body. The open wound in his stomach gone, his whole body intact even stronger than before. He'll think about this alot after wondering if you were really real. It would be best to get you out of his mind. Yet he sees you in the lakes and bodies of water and in the faces of women passing him by

You on the other hand couldn't believe your luck! Showing off the keepsake you'd got from the soldiers.

Red bracelet shining under the sun as you turned it on your wrist to show off to your sisters. Giggling and splashing round the waters edge. You're so lucky such a strong and handsome man!

"Wow what's his name".... "You did get his name right???" ... you didn't get his name. You didn't get his name! And honestly you're not sure which army he's with you can't tell the difference between the armours

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archiveikemen · 4 months

Text

『 Drowning in A Lustful Night 』 Story Event

Ellis Twilight

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

Liam: I heard that chocolates laced with aphrodisiac are popular these days.

One afternoon, Liam was talking about a rumour he heard.

Liam: People are advertising these chocolates as something that can let you know your lover’s truest desires.

Liam: Stuff like what they’re enduring because they love you, or things they haven't been able to say, you know?

Liam: It’s especially used during certain activities done in the bedroom at night… looks like it can enhance the intimacy between lovers.

…

Then one night, I had completely forgotten about that silly rumour I heard.

Ellis: Oh, right. Look at this, Kate.

It was a chilly night. Ellis took out a small box while we were having a casual conversation before bedtime and opened its lid for me to see the contents.

Kate: Are these… heart shaped… chocolates?

Kate: How cute. They look delicious too.

Ellis: These are the chocolates Liam was talking about.

Kate: The ones Liam talked about… no way!

Ellis: Yup, they seem to have been laced with an “aphrodisiac”. I got these from Allie at the tavern.

Ellis: I was told that it’ll be okay if eaten with a lover.

I stared in surprise at how casually Ellis said that.

Kate: So these are the rumoured…

Ellis: Do you want to try them?

Kate: What!?

Ellis: Because you’re a kind person, and… I feel that there are many things between us that can’t be said.

Kate: I don’t think so.

Ellis: … Really?

Ellis tilted his head and peered at me, while I tried hard to think of what I could say to him.

(Things that I can’t say to Ellis… hmm.)

Our relationship was as sweet and close as lovers, but it was also as faint as the twilight before evening turns to night.

Out of fear of our relationship being ruined, I definitely did hold myself back from saying some things, several times.

Ellis: I want to know… the emotions you usually wouldn't show.

Ellis: I’m sure that I can make you even happier if I know what they are.

Kate: That’s why you got the chocolates…?

Ellis: Yeah, that’s right.

(Liam mentioned something about “knowing your lover’s truest desires”.)

(Since these chocolates are laced with an aphrodisiac, eating them would make us feel like… that, right?)

(Ellis is suggesting we eat the chocolates, despite knowing what kind of effect they will have…)

An uneasy feeling slowly crept into my chest.

Kate: Ellis…

“Would you give this chocolate to just anyone if it would make them happy?”

(Will it put him in a tight spot if I ask him that?)

(Will Ellis keep his answer a secret from me if he knows it won’t make me happy…?)

Ellis was always kind and sweet when talking to me, but there was a possibility that he had many unspoken words.

My gaze was drawn to the aphrodisiac-laced chocolates that could reveal “unspeakable things”.

(... If Ellis eats them, maybe he’ll be honest and say those words to me without hesitation.)

I was curious about Ellis’ true feelings, and so I—

Ellis: … I won’t force you. If it’s something you don’t want to do, then I don't want to do it eit— oh.

I picked up a piece of the chocolate and ate half of it.

Kate: Mm… you too, Ellis.

Ellis: … Huh?

Kate: Please eat half too.

There was a hesitant look in Ellis’ eyes.

Kate: I want to know too… the things you “can’t say”.

Ellis: … Mm, got it.

Ellis ate the chocolate I held between my fingertips and savoured the sweetness.

The two of us anticipated what might happen while relishing the chocolate together. However…

Ellis: … It tastes like regular delicious chocolate.

Kate: … Raspberry flavour?

Ellis: Mm, I like this taste.

Kate: … Hehe. Could this be how it sets the mood between lovers?

I couldn’t help relaxing my shoulders and bursting into laughter.

(If I think about it calmly, I just did something quite daring…)

(I’m glad nothing happened.)

For a while, Ellis and I talked about the chocolate while sipping on hot milk.

We talked as we usually would — and it was time for us to return to our rooms after washing the mugs.

(... Hm?)

Kate: Ellis… I have a feeling that my face is very red right now.

Ellis: … I was about to say the same thing. Your face is flushing red, Kate. Are you running a fever?

The moment Ellis touched my forehead with his palm—

Kate: ahh…!?

A wave of pleasure ran through me like an electric current.

(W-What was that…?)

Ellis: Kate, could it be…

(Is this… the effect of the aphrodisiac?)

Kate: Are you also…?

I gently touched Ellis’ cheek.

Ellis: Nn…

Ellis’ shoulders shivered and a noise escaped his lips.

Ellis: … Apparently.

I felt his heated breath on my forehead.

It made me conscious of the heat starting to rise from the pit of my stomach.

(Oh no… the chocolates were the real deal.)

Ellis: … This is just right, let’s give it a shot.

Ellis: Tell me everything you want me to do, even things you normally wouldn’t say to me.

Ellis: I’ll fulfil them and make you happy.

Kate: ah…

Ellis gently ran his fingers down my neck, sending a sweet numbing sensation through my spine and making my legs nearly give way.

Kate: E-Ellis… wait, I…

Ellis: Mm, I’ll wait. I’ll wait till you forget all about your shame and be completely honest with me.

The dishevelled breathing of two people filled the room in the night.

…

Kate: Haa… aah…

Ellis: Haah… are you okay? Do you want some water?

Ellis carried me back to my bed when my legs became too weak to stand.

He sat on a chair a short distance away from the bed, looking after me.

(My body feels hot… the sheets rubbing against my skin is making me feel weird…)

Ellis: Here, have some water. … Fufu… the effect of the chocolate is very strong.

(Ellis is likely feeling the same way too…)

We were under the effect of the same drug and my body felt like it was on fire, yet all Ellis cared about was my wellbeing.

Ellis: … Is there something you want to say?

Ellis: You can say it, Kate. … I want to hear you express your feelings.

Kate: Ellis… if you’d do anything to make someone happy, regardless of who they are…

Kate: Would you eat this chocolate with them…? Even if it's someone you don't want to eat it with?

Ellis: …

Ellis: Is that what you couldn't say to me? You ate the chocolate because you wanted to ask me that?

Ellis: … Why do you want to know that?

Kate: Because…

(I want you to treasure yourself.)

(I don’t want you to do things that'll make you unhappy.)

(Also… maybe I…)

(Maybe I want to hear you say that you are the chocolate “because it’s me”...?)

Realising my feelings made me so embarrassed, my ears were burning.

Ellis: Fufu, you went silent… you can't tell me although you ate chocolate laced with aphrodisiac?

Ellis: I… I’ll say it. I’ll tell you what you wanted to hear so badly that you had to resort to this.

Ellis: If it’ll make someone happy, I’d eat the chocolate.

His response caused a sharp pain in my heart, but the pain was soon soothed by a gentle voice.

Ellis: But I won’t eat it with anyone else.

Ellis: This is what’s been bothering you… right?

Ellis even saw through the reason why I could outright tell him about it, and smiled at me with blushing cheeks.

Kate: Why… why would you go so far just to make me happy?

Ellis: That's because…

The faint smile on Ellis’ face faded away like the last bit of light from the setting sun disappearing in the horizon.

Ellis: Because I like you… I guess.

Ellis: My greatest joy is in making time stop for the person I love when I make them the happiest they’ve ever been.

His voice was calm, gentle, and… gloomy.

(Do you really like me?)

(What was that about stopping time? Why does it make you happy?)

I bit down the urge to fire those questions at him.

(I’m still afraid of knowing the answers.)

(... The claim that those chocolates could let you “know their truest desires” is a big awful lie.)

The aphrodisiac did nothing to make me ask the questions I truly wanted answers to, all it did was fuel the carnal desires intensifying inside of me.

Ellis: Kate, you look like you're having a hard time. … Can I touch you?

Kate: Haa… y-yes…

I shook my head, and Ellis came over to sit on the bed.

Ellis: I’ll make you feel more comfortable. It might be embarrassing if I do it from the front, so…

Ellis had me sit in front of him and lean against him as he hugged me from behind.

Ellis: Haa… okay, I’m going to touch you. … Fufufu, I feel dizzy.

Ellis: Where do you want to be touched now? Your chest? Or… lower?

Kate: Anywhere… you want to touch…

Ellis: … Haah.. you’re sneaky.

Ellis: … Then I’ll touch you here.

Kate: Mmm, aah…

He kissed me on the ear, and my body felt a sweet numbing sensation.

Kate: Is this… what you like…?

Ellis: Nn… I like watching you feel good…

Kate: Nnn…. hnngh.. aah…

I could feel my underwear getting wet from the light kisses he planted on my ears and neck.

He played with the peaks of my breasts through my loosened blouse and corset, but the tingle I felt in the pit of my stomach told me I desired a very specific kind of stimulation.

Kate: Ah… Ellis…

I rubbed my thighs together and heard a shameful wet sound that only heightened my embarrassment.

Ellis: So I have to touch you here… to make you feel less painful?

Ellis slid his hand down my stomach, to my belly button, and lower.

My thighs that were squeezed shut opened up on their own in response to the hand slowly creeping under my skirt.

Kate: Aahh…

Ellis: Haa… it's impressive you put up with this for so long… it must've been painful.

He slipped his hand under my soaked underwear and stroked the wet spot between my legs, as though he were rewarding me for being “good”.

Kate: Aaah… n-no…

After only a few strokes, my body still under the effect of the aphrodisiac easily went into climax.

My head went numb, I felt momentarily relieved of the uncomfortable throbbing feeling that plagued my body.

Kate: Hngg… haaa…

Ellis: Haa… let me see your face, Kate.

Kate: Nn…

Ellis: … Fufu, you look very happy. … Maybe it'll be even better if I can give you more pleasure.

(More…)

His words seemed to instantly reignite the fire deep inside me.

Ellis’ fingers went deeper into my now incredibly needy core.

Ellis: Do you like it when I touch you here?

(Does Ellis really want to touch me? Or is he only doing this because I want to be touched?)

I was afraid to ask, but my heart was dying to know.

Kate: I want you to do what you want… Ellis.

Ellis: What I want…

Ellis: … What should I do?

I felt Ellis’ hot breath behind my ears.

Ellis: I’m starting to get confused… whether this is what you want or what I want… I don't know…

Ellis: That’s… important.

He hesitatingly paused his fingers over my wet nether region.

Kate: Ahh.. ah…

(I'm too needy right now… it’s painful.)

(But… Ellis is in even more pain.)

Ellis: Hey, Kate… say that you want it.

Kate: …

Ellis: … You want it.

The desperation in Ellis’ voice as he tried to get me to beg him made my chest tighten.

(I have a feeling that Ellis is trying to tell me that he wants to be wanted… and he needs a reason to touch me.)

(Is the aphrodisiac making me go crazy?)

Kate: I… I want it…

Ellis: …

Kate: Ah.. ahhh…

He pushed his fingers into me with a lewd wet sound.

A few pumps of his fingers inside me was enough to make my back arch.

The back of my head rubbed against Ellis’ chest, and he kissed me on the forehead.

Kate: Nn… ah…

Ellis: Haa… you're so cute, Kate.

Ellis: Does it feel good? It’s still not enough…

I felt the heat of something warm from Ellis pressing against my behind when he hugged me tight, my insides reflexively tightened around his fingers.

(If Ellis really wants it…)

(If the reason is because I’m special to him…)

For a moment, I almost thought that it would be alright for me to surrender my body to him.

Perhaps, at that moment, I was really happy.

(Don’t think about that now… don’t say it…)

(We don’t know if it’s only because of the aphrodisiac.)

Kate: Ellis… ah, aah… wait, too much… hngg

Ellis: Haah… you’re so lovely, Kate… I want to make you feel even better…

We didn’t understand each other's real desires, I only drowned in the sweet moment of pleasure Ellis gave me—.

…

Ellis: Oh, good morning, Kate.

When I awkwardly walked into the dining room the next morning, Ellis greeted me as usual.

Kate: G- Good… good morning, Ellis.

Ellis: I saw that the bakery had a new item this morning and it looked delicious, so I bought it. Let’s eat it together.

Kate: Okay… wow, it really is delicious.

He sat down next to me and whispered into my ear.

Ellis: I couldn’t ask you yesterday because you fell asleep, but…

Ellis: When we touched each other like last night… how happy were you…?

Kate: …!

There was that gloomy light flickering behind Ellis’ eyes again.

Kate: … When I eat new bread with you… it makes me happy.

Ellis: …

Ellis: Fufu, I see.

Ellis: In that case, I’ll make you happier.

His calm and carefree smile hid that gloomy look away.

(If only… we could bare our hearts to each other without fear someday…)

(Will there come a day when I can finally say that I’m the happiest I've ever been?)

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikevil story event #ellis twilight

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morganitering · 5 months

Text

Because I'm the Weakest II: The Women Who Never Won

Pairings/character dynamics: Satosugu, Shoko and reader, Nanami and reader, implied shoko x utahime

Contains and warnings: DARK FIC/DEAD DOVE fem!reader, Suicidal ideation, rape aftermath, referenced rape (not written out in this chap), depression, alcohol abuse, misogyny & sexism, internalized sexism, sexual harassment on minors done by minors, victim blaming (thoughts), self harm, angst, hurt & comfort, I call noncon with the official word for it

Word count: ~9,6k

Summary: There's certain desperation when you try to keep your head above water. You were drowning and all you wanted to do was to forget, the weight on your shoulders unbearable. Despite the cards you were dealt with you found yourself among allies as the web of untold memories started to unfold.

A/N: Hey! Yall waited long for this, sorry about that. I have no idea how to tag this but I'll just do it somehow, bc this is a tricky chapter. Here yall get to dive deeper in the stuff that has gone down before the events that took place in 1st chap and get a hug from Shoko. This is hopefully the last installment of this. Read the tags carefully as always and make informed decisions based on that and take care of yourself. Shit can get heavy, but I'm trying to do this in good taste.

Read on ao3 part I

Shoko Ieiri had worked a long time with people who suffered. She had seen it all, limbs cut off, even the toughest of sorcerers reduced to crying messes as they practically had their innards falling to the floor. There’s something utterly horrifying watching a patient, no – a friend scream in pain when even her skills were not enough. Funerals came and went, the white sheet thrown over the deceased on the operation table in the same routine way she’d change her linens. Nothing really shocked her.

That’s what she liked to think.

Your visits have been more frequent. It started with bruises and sprained ankles. Then it was broken bones that soon turned to puncture wounds, your clothes sticky with deep red and dirt. When she asked about it, you laughed it off saying it’s nothing, just a silly little mishap, “I was too reckless in the heat of the moment.” But your eyes were empty, your words hollow like a dead tree. Of course Shoko did her job, without asking too much. You’re an adult and you’ll speak about it if you want to, right? Her job was to keep you alive. Your job was to exorcise curses.

Shoko and you had been close too, hanging out with the two men, but at some point in high school she had withdrawn from the group. Gojo and Geto had tried to keep in touch with her in adulthood, inviting her as well to spend time together as the four of them, but she had always declined, smoothly changing their relationship to acquaintances at best. She heard enough of the despicable men from you. The only times she was in direct contact with Gojo and Geto was work related and god how she hoped that it would stay that way. She’ll play that pretend game almost happily.

Shoko closed the office door the day turning to evening, sundown coloring the city in hues of orange and yellow. She held onto her little black purse, thankfully it was friday. A man stood on the long corridor, standing upright as if he did not belong here. He looked indifferent, almost bored.

“Nanami.”

“Ieiri.”

They greeted each other with a curt nod.

“So what brings you here? You seem healthy enough,” Shoko asked as they walked to the open parking lot, only a few cars in sight. The warm summer sun caressed her cheeks, wind making her long hair flow in waves.

“I think she’s going through something,” Nanami stated as a matter of fact talking about you. He and you had gone on missions together, but something about you wasn’t right. He had seen the way you clutch your weapon, throw yourself at the enemy recklessly almost as if you had a death wish. It’s like you waited for your end.

“No shit.” Shoko chuckled amused. It was as clear as a day if you just had eyes on yourself. “Why do you care?”

“I’ve seen enough people spiral to know where it leads. You’re a healer, can’t you help?” His voice was thoughtful, not betraying a hint of emotions.

“I can’t help a person who doesn’t want it,” Shoko said. “But I’ll try to figure something out.”

“And that is enough. Thank you.”

***

You hated meetings and rarely took part in them if you could avoid them. You had not met Gojo or Geto after the unfortunate night. If there were some work related things where there was a possibility to meet either of the men, you requested to be part of them remotely or that someone would just forward the key points. But after doing this for a few months Yaga had sent you a passive-aggressive email writing that it is absolutely mandatory for you to show yourself at least once in a while. You didn’t bother to answer him with anything other than a polite see you there.

Honestly you were tired. Your whole body ached in overexertion. Sleep escaped from you, ran a marathon around the block never stopping at your house, and every time you seemed to catch a break, hazy images you rather forbid being real filled your vision. Your eyebags told a story of exhaustion, your body shrinking in every possible way away. You went to see a doctor, not Shoko, just some normal practitioner from the private sector that you ended up paying yourself sick for.

The doctor gave you pills to help you with sleep. He asked you if you were stressed or going through some sorts of crisis. You answered with a diligent no and explained that you’ve always had issues with sleep, but you were otherwise okay. He looked at you, raising his eyebrow in suspicion, the glasses on his head hung on his nose by a thread. He decided to believe you as he wrote the prescription, but insisted you took home pamphlets about depression and crisis hotlines.

You tried the pills. You did fall asleep, but only after a panic attack wrecked through your body as the effect of the medication forced you into a deep slumber. The pills made you feel your pulse in your whole body. “It’s a quite strong product, previously used to treat psychosis, but nowadays it’s for patients with severe insomnia. Take it one hour before sleep. The effect might be really sudden.”

When you woke up you decided to throw them away. It’s better to not to sleep if it meant that you’d go free from the horrors of the night you had experienced.

The huge meeting table sprawled out horizontally and was able to sit around fifteen people in it. It had several small electric outlets for computers and tablets. Light poured in from the big windows, the blinds only halfway done. You stared at the weird scribbling on the white board that Principal Yaga was wiping furiously, muttering things about how students shouldn’t be let in this room under any circumstance since they can’t differentiate which markers are okay to use on it.

You exchanged pleasantries with him. The room was devoid of people since you were too early. You swung your leather bag on the back of the upholstered office chair and sat yourself down.

Shoko walked in and her face lit up a little bit when she saw you sitting there. It was subtle, you thought that you were maybe the only one who could differentiate that expression from her. She sat next to you, a faint hint of neroli wrapping you to its calming aroma.

Next came Meimei and then Utahime who came running to you two giving a happy hug to Shoko. They were so cute together, you thought to yourself as you fidgeted with your slightly too big shoes, constantly removing them and pushing them back to your feet. People don’t usually like small talk, but nonetheless the group chatted with each other. They had to, because it’s polite and you were coworkers. You thought that small talk was easy. The script of it was burnt to your brains for the rest of your life. You get to keep people at an arm's length and keep up appearances, so what’s there not to like?

A familiar blonde man stood in the doorway. You checked your phone for the time. Only five minutes before the official start. Yuki also appeared after Nanami.

“Hello,” he said and nodded at you as he sat himself next to you. Your whole body stiffened around him. It was hard to look him in the eyes and even harder to work missions with.

It was ten minutes past the official time when the meeting was supposed to start.

“Sorry we are late.” Two men marched in the room with confident strides and took their place in front of you facing you, that was sitting in between Nanami and Shoko, Utahime next to the doctor. Suguru sat down next to Yuki leaving a space for Satoru who had Meimei next to him.

Hearing Suguru’s voice made your skin crawl.

“It’s fine,” Yaga said and looked over his shoulder to look at the white screen he had pulled down earlier with only a blue screen reflecting on the fabric. “I can’t seem to get this work anyway,” he mumbled.

“Do you need help?” Suguru walked over to the man struggling over his laptop. “Have you checked the HDMI-cable?”

“Of course I have, I just don’t understand why it won't work. We have Ijichi remote today,” he muttered partially to himself.

“Let me.”

You sat fidgeting on your chair focusing on everything else than the two men and their presence that suffocated you. If you were a candle they’d be snuffing you out but not properly, no, that would be too kind. They’d always let enough air in so that you’d never be completely put out.

“Hello to you girls.. and Nanami,” Satoru flashed a playful grin at the four of you. Your head jerked involuntarily to look at the man. Thank god he has a habit of covering his eyes, but somehow that made him even worse.

“Hello. How are you?” Nanami nodded politely.

“I’m well. Hopefully the work isn’t stressing you out too much.” Satoru’s smile widened.

“Speaking of work, I’ve heard that you and her have started doing missions together,” Satoru nudged his head towards you as he spoke directly to Nanami. “I actually green lighted the idea of sorcerers working more together. It’s good to practice teamwork and I put in good words for the two of you, since you compliment each other with the techniques you have. ” Satoru moved his head to look your way as he drew out his words in a way that you’d be sure to catch the dual meaning.

The wall flashed a few times showing the computer screen and it’s default wallpaper for only a moment and after that went back to blue.

“An idea that I actually can get behind,” Nanami said agreeably.

Your eye twitched.

“Really? That was your doing?” You barely hid the anger of your voice. One more push and you’d pour your life savings on an amoral hitman, not that you’d believe that anyone could finish him off. It was a thought just for you so you could at least think about being mean in your own petty way.

“Not a fan of working in groups of two? How about in groups of three?”

“You fucking piece of-”

“Okay I think it’s working now,” Yaga put his hands together straightening himself properly. Suguru walked over to Satoru, slightly shaking his head before he sat down. You heard Utahime’s quiet “okayy..” whispered in the awkward silence.

“Unfortunately principal Gakuganji wasn’t able to make it today, he’s sick or something.”

You heard Gojo scoff audibly.

“Try to respect him.” Yaga shot a glare in the young teacher’s way.

“Ijichi and Nitta have gathered data about the hotspots of cursed activity,” he continued and opened up the window to teams only to be greeted by a tired looking black haired man in a suit. The background behind him was red, it looked like some type of wallpaper and small paintings covered the walls. You reckoned it was a hotel room. Or a motel, you really could not tell.

“Ijichi, do you hear me? Would you like to take over?” Yaga’s voice boomed louder as if he wasn’t already near his computer.

The grainy picture of the tired man smiling uncomfortably stayed still a little too long to be taken as a real time reaction to Yaga’s question.

“I hear you. Sorry, the connection here is a bit bad.” Ijichi’s voice echoed in the office room. The picture of a slideshow appeared on the wall, making Ijichi’s face smaller.

The map of Tokyo loomed on the wall as everyone stared at it intensely, more or less dozing off. Some parts of it had big red circles on them and Ijichi explained the way these places were having exceptionally heavy activity. He reckoned that partially the rise in activity tied to the sorcerers working more missions together leaving less people available. Ijichi also showed statistics comparing the effectiveness of sorcerers based in Tokyo and Kyoto.

You were about to lose your mind, your body still pumping adrenaline after the conversation with Gojo. Everyone else seemed to be bored, oblivious to your struggle. Satoru had yawned at least three times in the last ten minutes, Shoko and Utahime were both interested in their nails. Even Suguru looked tired and he was pretty good at hiding his thoughts. The only ones who did not look outwardly dead inside were Yaga and Nanami.

“Thank you Ijichi for your hard work,” Yaga said and Ijichi nodded smiling. The pop up of the slideshow vanished from the screen leaving Ijichi’s face in a huge resolution looming onto the wall.

“We are going to take in account the effects of pairing up sorcerers. I’m not entirely in charge of how long this trial will take,” Yaga said. “Ieiri has this trial affected the health care aspect in any way?”

Shoko cleared her throat tapping open the ipad in front of her, her nails making a satisfying click click sound.

“The injuries have lessened,” she started. That’s good, you thought. “But the severity has increased,” she said with a serious face.

“Why is that?” Principal scrunched his eyebrows together.

“In my professional opinion it is due to people being more brazen when having a partner. This can be seen especially in lower grade sorcerers, who are prone to believing that they are invincible when someone backs them up.” Everyone had turned to look at the doctor who played with her hair idly as she spoke.

“And the second grade and up?”

“It happens less. But there are some, even first grade sorcerers, who are accident prone,” Shoko said and quickly looked at you, not long enough for others to pick up on that she was speaking about you.

Gojo’s phone rang in the middle of the conference. He left the room with an apology and never came back. Relief and anger ignited in you playing tug of war in your heart as your eyes followed him bitterly.

“I think this is all. I’ll send everyone the upcoming jobs, but if no one has anything to say, I think we can conclude this meeting here,” Yaga said, the choir of thank yous and goodbyes filling the room.

You stretched yourself, happy to be on your feet again.

“Hey, can we talk?” Nanami tried to get your attention.

You stood in the room that was quickly emptying out of people. Shoko awkwardly hung around in a small distance from you and Nanami, trying to pretend that she wasn’t listening to your conversation.

“I don’t entirely understand the conversation between you and Gojo, but if I have somehow disrespected you I offer my deepest apologies.” Nanami’s voice was soft. Your heart ached as you realized how bad your words must have appeared to him.

“I’m so sorry. It’s not about you. You’ve done nothing..” You trailed off as you saw the tall curse eating man walk outside with a sly smile on his lips.

“That’s a relief but if I may be so blunt, I have a hunch that there is something bothering you,” Nanami said.

You looked at him and chewed your lower lip nervously. This was all their fault. If they had not done what they did, you would not be in this position. The least they could have done is to keep the names of people you know out of their mouths.

“I’m sorry to leave you hanging like this, but can we finish this conversation later?” You hurried past him, only hearing Nanami mumble the word ‘sure’ like a kicked puppy and you said goodbye to Shoko agreeing on staying in touch with her.

The corridor was almost empty as you walked through the school building frantically searching for that bastard of a man. Your footsteps echoed on the wood as you arrived at a not so well known exit of the building. Geto stood in front of the dual doors, half heartedly pushing it open as he furiously wrote something on his phone.

You yelled out his name, but he did not bother to react to you. You closed in on the man that was still standing back towards you. Anger surged in you as adrenaline made you braver than what you normally would be. You were supposed to just grab the ends of his hair that were sprawled across his back, but in the heat of the moment your impulse control had another lapse as you kept on raising your hand. A fist closed around the bun that had been carefully crafted on his scalp and you dug your fingers around the hair tie and then yanked, hard.

“What the hell are you doing?!” He turned around stepping out of the doorway letting it close properly with a thump and he closed the distance between you for good. His eyes shot daggers at you.

“You did not pay attention to me.” You shook your hand out of the spare strands that were stuck on your palm and offered the small hair tie back to him.

“Well you got it now,” he hissed. “You can keep that as a souvenir. I don’t want anything that a filthy bitch like you has touched,” he said, the calm composure nowhere in sight.

A filthy bitch? Really? Then maybe you should break up with Satoru if this is your deal breaker.. That’s what you wanted to say, but you held back your tongue.

Geto took a deep breath, calming himself down, slipping on the mask that you were more used to seeing. He put his phone back in his pocket.

“What do you want?”

“You told me,” you started, tears threatening to flow over. “You told me that I can just leave and do whatever I want. Why do you keep tormenting me? Why do you let Gojo do what he does?” Your voice broke as you started crying openly. You hated it, it made you weak. No. You were weak.

“Firstly, I’m not his guardian. He can do what he wants.” He sounded like a smartass.

“Second of all, never. And I repeat. Never, lay a hand on me ever again, especially on my hair.” You rolled your eyes.

Of course it was the hair that ticked him off completely. It was his crown, the only thing he had ever been able to take care of besides Satoru. Suguru loved to flaunt himself as the calm one, the kind one, but the exterior had always had some cracks in it. No amount of paint was able to hide the rotten wall behind it.

“I can forgive your outburst at Satoru’s, but now that you’re in your right mind, you won’t get second chances.”

“I don’t want ‘second chances’. I want you to leave me the fuck alone so I can do my job,” you yelled at him.

“Lower your voice. Or do you want to air out all the dirty laundry for everyone?” Geto hushed you.

“It’s not my ‘laundry’, it’s fucking yours!” You roared and tears fell down your cheeks blurring your vision. Your face felt hot as it got wrapped in the wrath of your words.

Geto did not answer you, instead he chose to stare you down, not moving at all as if he was a statue. He looked like a child throwing a tantrum when things did not go his way, his face contorting to a sneer that could challenge any rich spoiled brat. You panted and wiped your face with the rough backside of your palm.

“Move.”

“Ladies first,” he snickered childishly and kicked open the heavy door with his foot as he stepped slightly to the side. God this man hangs out too much with Gojo.

As you left the school grounds barely holding your breakdown away, there was one figure in the corridors hugging the wall near the exit, clutching onto her purse.

***

SHOKO’S MEMORIES, 2006

“Truth or dare?” Satoru asked, popping the pink bubblegum in the air, sucking the sticky material back in his mouth to chew on loudly.

“Truth,” Shoko said, placing another cigarette in her mouth. She smoked especially heavily when she was drinking.

Satoru had managed to bring a whole six pack of beer to the picnic whereas Suguru had found a travel size vodka bottle from his parents. Shoko had brought a package of different berries and salty crackers with her.

“If you could have any technique in the world, which one would you have?” Satoru asked. He looked at the clear blue sky and the way the summer breeze pushed on the white clouds.

Shoko played with the corner of the blanket as she thought deeply about his question. She stared at the shoes she had placed on the grass and the manicure on her toes that Utahime had insisted on putting on her.

“I think I’d keep this one,” she smiled wistfully.

“Really? You wouldn’t want my powers?” Satoru looked at her tilting his head to the side. He spat out the chewing gum and placed it on the plastic lid that belonged to the packaging of berries. He did not like it when things ran out of flavor, always searching for something more.

“No. I don’t envy you at all. I just want a happy life and that’s all” Shoko answered his gaze, with a gentle smile. “Besides, I like the way I am and I suppose I can help people like this,” she added.

Satoru hummed. He was clearly dissatisfied with the answer.

He did not exactly know why.

“Satoru, that's sad. You should ask something fun,” Suguru pointed out and took a sip from the beer can.

The three of them sat on a grassy hill that had a pretty decent view of the city and the park below it. Shoko leaned against the huge tree behind her back. The cicadas were performing their own concert with the hum of motorways working as their orchestra.

“You figure out better questions then,” Satoru pouted, but wasn’t actually hurt.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask though?”

Shoko looked in the distance watching closely how a woman jogged with her shiba inu, her ponytail swishing in the same rhythm as the chord of her headphones. Both men nodded slightly out of sync.

“Satoru truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Who’s the hottest person you know?” Her eyes twinkled teasingly.

“Waka Inoue of course. She’s sexy as hell!” Satoru slapped his hand on his heart as if he was saluting.

“Really? You still have a crush on her?” Suguru questioned. It was his turn to pout. “Am I not enough?”

“Baby you’re plenty, but you can’t replace a huge rack,” Satoru’s voice was steady as if he was talking about the most important thing in the whole world.

“I can’t argue with that.” Suguru sighed defeatedly, his shoulders slumping down dramatically.

“Ugh. I shouldn’t have asked that. Both of you are so weird and gross about women,” Shoko grimaced regretting her decisions and lifted the cigarette to her mouth as if to cover the bad taste of Satoru’s words.

The man in sunglasses ignored the criticizing words. “Suguru. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to share this,” Satoru lifted up a huge strawberry. “Like in Lady and the Tramp with Shoko,” he referred to the scene where the two dogs shared a spaghetti meal, eventually kissing.

“That’s too small!” Shoko protested immediately, shaking her head. The idea of doing that with Suguru made her feel iffy.

“I’m game if she is,” Suguru said and offered his palm to Satoru who plopped the berry in his hands.

Shoko had a nervous giggle come out of her.

“C’mon, it’s just a game. You can always let go after like one bite. This is truth or dare afterall,” Satoru coaxed.

“Fine. But I won’t kiss you, not even a peck.” Shoko established her own rule and rolled her eyes. She put out the cigarette on the grass and left the butt there.

“We’ll see about that,” Suguru laughed and picked at the stem that got thrown over next to the chewed up gum.

He awkwardly came closer to the young female student and placed the bigger end between his lips. He looked silly, the red end peeking out of his mouth. Suguru attempted at mouthing the words ‘come closer’, but neither Satoru or Shoko understood his words but the context clue carried the point to Shoko.

She got on her knees sitting on top of her legs and straightened herself out. Suguru was way taller than her, even when he sat. Her face approached Suguru’s who had a pink tint on his cheeks from the alcohol he had drank.

She opened her mouth and barely bit down on the smaller end, her tongue touching the bumpy texture of the strawberry.

“Ready. Set. Go!” Satoru exclaimed, motioning finger guns happily. His gaze was completely glued on his two friends.

Suguru closed his eyes and he started to carefully nibble, closing dangerously on Shoko’s lips. She bit quickly, not really tasting anything and began to pull away in hopes of Suguru calling it quits too.

Unfortunately she wasn’t fast enough. The last bits of strawberry fell down on Shoko’s lap when Suguru pressed his lips against hers, a faint red trail dripping on her chin. She didn’t move and her eyes widened in shock. Shoko didn’t know what to do so she just held her hands on her lap.

Suguru pet gently behind the girl’s head kissing her motionless lips. His hand trailed down to her neck and all the way to her shoulder. Shoko felt the sweet taste in her mouth mixing with the alcohol, stranger’s saliva and nicotine as Suguru dragged his hand to the mound of her breast. The warmth emanating from his palm was enough to bring her back to reality and Shoko pushed the bigger guy off of her.

“Why did you do that?” she snapped and crossed her arms.

“Oh don’t get angry now. Have a drink and chill out.” Satoru sighed. He shuffled awkwardly and placed the almost empty tote bag on his lap and grabbed a new beer can from there. Shoko narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but did not want to make room for any weird thoughts that would imply even weirder things. “It’s just a joke.”

“This is not the first time you take jokes too far.”

Shoko looked away from the two boys, disappointment turning into an ache in her heart and wiped her chin clean from the strawberry. She slipped on the ballerinas laying on the ground.

“Seriously? You’re leaving because of this?” Suguru tilted his head, his voice defensive.

Shoko threw her cigarettes and lighter in her own purse checking the blanket for other stuff she had.

“Yeah, I am. I’m not having fun anymore.” Her voice was cold as she was attempting to hide the nervous tremble in her body and almost jumped up throwing the bag on her shoulder. She turned around, once again crossing her hands against her chest as if to protect herself and started walking.

“Hey! Don’t you want your blanket with you?” Satoru yelled after her. The two guys sat on the quilt completely bamboozled.

“Keep it! I don’t need it!”

She didn’t eat strawberries for the rest of the summer.

***

“Hey you really should sing this one!” Shoko laughed as she scrolled through the song list.

“Whaat? No that’s not even funny,” you laughed and slapped her arm gently.

“Is it really not? Or are you just a bore?” Shoko taunted getting ready to put the song on.

“Can we sing something from this?” You pointed at the category called 2000’s hits.

“I’ll pick something at random and you’re just going to deal with it,” Shoko laughed clearly tipsy too after the multiple drinks you both had drank.

The disco ball was spinning around the small room painting the walls in hues of blue, red and green. Nanami sat on the couch nursing his whiskey as he stared off into space. The upbeat music filled the room, bass shaking the ground underneath your feet.

It was the first time going out after the events at Gojo’s house. Shoko had basically begged you to come with her to get shit faced complaining that she really needed someone to rant with. You told her that Utahime was right there and would probably love to listen to her, but she claimed that the woman from Kyoto had other plans for the weekend.

After arriving at the karaoke bar you had been taken back after seeing the stoic blonde man at the venue. You weighed the option of immediately leaving in your head, but your conscience did not allow you to do so, after leaving him so rudely hanging in the meeting. When the three of you had gotten your own private room you decided to immediately order shots and drinks with the only goal of getting absolutely black out drunk tonight despite having Nanami there.

It was honestly rare to see him after work as he had preferred to keep his distance. He was wearing the same clothing he always wore, dress shirt ironed, necktie perfectly hanging against his chest as if he was on the clock. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he were to whip out a cursed tool onto the bar table.

You clutched onto the microphone singing unevenly as you danced to the beat, half of the syllables disappearing to you being out of breath. Shoko cackled, almost folding over as she kept slapping her thigh eyes watering. She had drunk a few drinks less than you and she had been exceptionally happy even before drinking. Truthfully Shoko was quite a heavy drinker and she definitely should not have been as wasted as what she appeared to be.

Nanami stared at the both of you, raising the whiskey glass to his lips after checking his wrist watch.

“Come here! Sing with us!” You yelled to the mic only getting a slightly alarmed expression out of him as he shook his head.

“I think I’m okay with watching you two perform,” he said.

You pouted but kept on singing, your concentration skills nonexistent. You did not notice the way Shoko glared at him, nudging her head towards you as she pointed the microphone in her hand towards him.

Nanami cleared his throat under the threatening gaze and clumsily got up.

“Oh my god! Nanamiii!” You screamed the noise so high pitched that even the speakers were unable to handle it and you could see how Nanami cringed at the sound.

Shoko squinted her eyes and mouthed the word sing to Nanami. Shoko was not going to deal with you alone.

The combination of the pop song and Nanami’s voice made you giggle as you hurrayed him happily. He was not a bad singer by any means, but his voice did not fit the song choice. You wondered to yourself, why had you not gotten shitfaced earlier when you had all the good reasons to.

Shoko decided to take a small break sitting on the spot where Nanami had been earlier and inspected the brown liquid swishing in the glass. She stole a sip from it when Nanami wasn’t watching, not really caring about the fact that it wasn’t her drink.

You grabbed your drink from the table and drank from it and you kept on singing happily, almost jumping around. Nanami looked at you with a terrified expression when you moved side to side with the drink spilling on your hand, but you did not notice the wetness of it.

“Hey, put that down before you drop the glass,” Nanami said and gently tried to take the glass from you.

“No, I want to keep this,” a pout formed on your face but you still did what he told and turned around swiftly to place the drink on the counter. Your vision was blurry, the lights slightly too bright and you lost your balance tipping over the glass that was already safely on the table. You felt yourself starting to fall but a strong arm snaked around your waist to stabilize you.

The world felt like it was stopping when the arm around you changed into a tight rope that pressed around your ribcage. The karaoke room changed inch by inch to a vast room with a wall made of windows with a night view of the streets of Tokyo. The shattered drink turned into a broken light bulb on the floor. You felt a hot breath on your skin, but your body had gotten cold. It was as if you had been dunked into ice water, all the earlier excitement completely vanished. The disco ball spun around casting blue lights on the white haired man’s face that ogled you like a piece of meat. The imagery was so vivid and real in your mind that you reacted on instinct, elbowing the man behind you.

The rope vanished around you as the windows melted to the concrete floor, the shadows of city lights turned back to the tacky illumination of the disco ball. You felt the remnants of cursed energy fizzing out like a soda can as your eyes landed on Nanami, who was slightly hunched over holding onto his side the pain making him grimace. You had no idea how much force you had actually used, but probably quite a lot judging by the way Nanami was reacting.

Shoko stood there completely still, eyes filled to the brim with worry and confusion. Her lips were ajar and she gulped down wanting to say something, but she did not know what.

“My apologies. I didn't mean to touch you inappropriately,” Nanami managed to say. The music track played in the background, but it felt empty without a drunken voice guiding it. He was lucky to have good reflexes, instinctually protecting himself from the blow, otherwise Shoko would have had a patient off the clock.

“Uh,” Your mouth gaped at him hopelessly. He had done nothing wrong.

“I’ll go for a cigarette,” you blurted out and left the room hurriedly. The long hallway stretched in front of your eyes as you looked at the numbers on karaoke booths, only muted colors flashing through the slightly translucent doors. You leaned on the wall as you dragged your feet forward arriving at the front desk that thanked you for your time, but you did not pay attention to them and turned to your left to stare at the steep stairway.

The steps were made out of wood with a black paint that had started to chip away and the walls were pure red, too bright and intense for your eyes. You focused on the door in front of you and barely saw the red walls around it as they got covered by a dark cloud, your way of seeing more animalistic than human.The only thing in your mind was the need to get some fresh air as emotions threw you around like a shipwreck at the sea.

You pushed the door open and walked over to a bicycle stand choosing an empty spot where you plopped yourself on. You rocked yourself back and forth as you cried and gripped onto your skin painfully hoping that at least the physical sensation would put an end to your suffering. You started to be more aware of the familiar banging against your skull.

The door of the karaoke bar opened as Shoko walked outside, her face now serious, resembling more the woman she was at work than the friend giggling at drunk people's jokes.

“Hey. You forgot this inside.” She handed you your bag.

You wanted to answer something but you could not as the words got stuck to your throat. Your world flashed back and forth between sensations that you weren’t supposed to feel in this moment. The guilt and sadness ate you alive, nipping away from your vitals the more you tried to push them down.

Shoko placed a cigarette between her lips and lit it up and offered it to you. You took it gladly off her hands inhaling the sweet smoke, but you almost ended up suffocating on it as your nose was too stuffed to handle it. Even the menthol taste was unable to help you with this issue. Shoko opened the green box once more to get herself a smoke as well.

She took a drag out of it and watched your shuddering figure.

“I saw you in the hallway with Geto. Something happened at Gojo’s right?”

You lifted your head up mascara running on your cheeks. Had you not been in such a bad state her words would have shocked you.

“I can’t help you if you don’t want my help.” Shoko crouched down to your level. You stared at her face as she left out a puff of smoke that trailed around her face, the dark eye bags now more visible than ever.

You choked on your tears once more, now openly wailing on the pavement your fingers digging into the soft flesh of your arm. You dragged your nails across yourself leaving pink trails behind it, the soft tingle covering the areas you had just clawed at.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you cried, your words hard to decipher as your breath hitched. “I can’t keep on doing this. It’s all my fault. I’m so stupid,” you screamed snot falling onto your shirt.

“So fucking stupid!” You impulsively pressed the cigarette butt against your thigh melting the cloth away the stinging pain shocking you as your skin shed its layers against the fire.

You had no shame in your breakdown, frankly you did not even recognize the others that looked in your way speaking with hushed voices around you, as they tightened the grip on their partners hands. “That girl really needs to lay off the drinks,” someone had said loudly. Shoko had wanted to immediately pounce, but she held herself together. She knew that you needed her more.

“Don’t hurt yourself, when you want to hurt someone else,” her voice was just a whisper. “Can I touch you?” She asked not wanting to trigger you further. You nodded.

Shoko pulled you into a tight hug and you buried your face on her chest, holding onto her like it was the last thing keeping you afloat. You seeked comfort in her presence.

“I want to die.” You gripped onto her tighter. “I’m so weak.”

Shoko stroked your hair, her own eyes watering as she listened to you wordlessly. She felt your pain almost just as viscerally as you were experiencing them now.

“No matter… no matter what I do. I can’t escape them. I just want to be gone. I want to-”

Shoko shushed you and slipped her free hand into her pocket, digging out her phone. Almost ten minutes had gone by. She awkwardly opened her chat with Nanami trying to inform the man who was probably still sitting in their booth waiting for the two of you to come back.

A male voice disturbed the two of you. “Is everything okay?”

Shoko pressed her hand on your shoulder pushing herself up from the ground, she whispered to you to stay put, not that you really were in any condition to go anywhere.

“Good that you’re here. I was just about to text you. Can you get us a taxi?”

“Of course,” he said and opened the app punching in your address that Shoko forwarded to him. He looked so much older and out of place in the busy street.

This was the kind hearted and lovely Nanami that had forgiven you immediately, after you had punched him in the gut because you were fucked up in the head. The kind hearted and lovely Nanami that you couldn’t look in the eyes, because of a certain man whose name you felt like acid on the tip of your tongue. The thoughts in your head brought fresh tears to your eyes. You dangerously sailed in the deep waters of suicidal ideation, your tired hands opening the forbidden door.

“It’s going to arrive in five minutes,” Nanami hummed.

“I think you should go. I’ll handle this,” Shoko said, her voice full of pity. “I’ll keep you posted.”

Nanami nodded in agreement.

“For what it’s worth, take care of yourself too.” Nanami’s words were carefully chosen, anticipating that you weren’t the only one who needed a hug.

***

SHOKO’S MEMORIES, YEAR 2006

The beach was filled with people who enjoyed the way the sun spoiled them with its warmth. Shoko was sitting on a towel next to Mei Mei who applied generous amounts of sunscreen on her hand. They sat underneath a parasol that had been propped in the sand, covering them both from the direct sun. The brown haired girl watched as Utahime excitedly threw herself to the water. She had given up on trying to get Shoko and Mei Mei in the water as well.

“Mei Mei, don’t you have a lot of experience with boys?” Shoko almost whispered and hugged her legs. Her beach shawl swayed when the breeze decided to start playing with the huge piece of cloth.

“Are you trying to imply something?” Her voice was low and melodic but not at all accusatory.

“No, nothing like that. I just wanted to ask you something.” Shoko shook her head flustered. “Is it normal for a guy to kiss a girl without asking?”

Mei Mei burst into laughter. This was the question Shoko was getting all worked up for?

“Shoko,” Mei Mei’s eyes glimmered softly when she said the younger girl’s name with gentleness that reminded her of a mother tugging a child into bed. “I did not take you for being this innocent,” she teased.

“I’m not innocent,” the brown haired girl huffed with the unexpected blush decorating her cheeks.

“Did someone do that to you?” Mei Mei tilted her head curiously and offered the sunscreen bottle to Shoko who happily took it to her hands.

“If I tell you, will you promise that you won’t tell anyone?”

“If I’m honest, I don’t think I care enough to tattle. You got me curious now. Tell me,” she hummed as a smile curled on her lips.

“Well uh.. Suguru kind of kissed me when we were playing truth or dare with Satoru,” Shoko explained . She ran her hand between the warm sand, the grainy texture giving her something else to think about. “It was a stupid dare on Satoru’s part. Dunno why I accepted it.”

Shoko added that she did not want to kiss him under any circumstances but the boy had managed to go over her boundary with ease.

“That’s it?” Mei Mei asked, raising her eyebrow. She was almost bewildered at how tame the story was.

“Yeah.”

The blue haired woman scoffed.

“Guys think that girls like it when they take control and in a certain sense they are right. Maybe they got their eyes on you? Although, I did think that Suguru and Satoru were..” Mei Mei’s voice trailed off as she thought. “It doesn’t matter.” She concluded.

“If I were you. I’d go along with it.” Mei Mei suggested.

“No way. I don’t like them like that. Besides that’s not what I asked for your opinion on.”

“And?” Mei Mei turned her gaze on Shoko, her eyes hardening as she intensely stared at the younger girl. “Those two men are our generation’s strongest and you’re going to complain that one of them gave you a little kiss?”

Mei Mei’s melodic voice dropped lower as she showed her true feelings of distaste towards Shoko’s views.

“If I were you,” she started again, her voice tough and bitter. “I’d be securing my spot by their side and not planning to bring forth meaningless accusations over a game of truth or dare.”

Shoko was at loss with the things that were being said to her. Now that she thought about it, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to speak with Mei Mei.

“I did not say I was going to tell anyone,” her voice was squeaky like a little girl’s.

“But you thought about that right?” Shoko did not deny nor confirm the accusation.

Mei Mei’s face softened. “Shoko, you’re a smart girl. You should know better than to get shaken by two boys, especially when you so eagerly lead them on.“

“..I don’t lead them on.”

“Then stop meeting them in your spare time. If you do that, guys will think that you’re willing. You’re not a kid anymore, they do notice that you’re a woman now.”

She stayed quiet, Mei Mei’s words burning on her skin worse than the summer heat. She did not want guys thinking about her that way. She simply wanted to be their friend and the idea of boys and girls being unable to do that because of bodily differences made Shoko shudder.

“You want to help your friends, right?” Mei Mei asked when Utahime got out of the water.

Shoko nodded.

“Then become a doctor. That’s the best you can do to others with the technique you have.” Her words were probably meant to be comforting, but they made Shoko’s heart sink to the bottom of the ocean.

“Shookoo!” Utahime ran towards the two girls sitting on the beach towels.

“Are you willing to swim now?” Sand and water droplets clung onto her radiant skin that the younger girl admired silently. Shoko felt her heart skip a few times in her chest when Utahime offered her hand to her.

“Sure.” The shy smile stretched on Shoko’s lips.

“I’ll stay here. But you guys have fun.” Mei Mei announced as she opened the book next to her the pages slightly crumpled up.

Shoko did not really register Mei Mei’s voice anymore. She grabbed Utahime’s hand and the world slowly faded away around them.

****

Shoko went through the bathroom nimbly avoiding piles of clothing or takeout bags as she looked through your bathroom cupboard. She found a bag of half used cotton pads and a micelar water from the mess.

The taxi drive had felt like eternity. Your tears had dried before settling in the car and numbness had taken over. Shoko helped you to your bed and said that she’d come back soon, closing the door behind her giving you some space to change into something more comfortable.

The door opened. Shoko looked at you and sat on the bed. You were using a pillow as a support for your back. The night lamp’s warm color casted shadows around your puffy face. The woman shook the bottle in her hand and poured liquid on the white cotton pad and tilted your face towards hers.

She pressed the pad on your eyelid carefully letting the mixture soak through the heaps of makeup on your face. You sniffled sadly before speaking.

“I can do this on my own too.”

“I want to do this,” her voice was soft as she spoke the makeup remover leaving your skin slightly cold. You simply nodded and admired the way her hair framed her face.

“You know I’ve had my own bad experiences too,” Shoko said, her face turning to a slight frown. Her mind was sailing in memories that she had given up on trying to understand.

You were at a loss of words. You wanted to pry, but it felt invasive.

“With them? Really?” You heard yourself asking as you danced on the line of impropriety.

“Yeah,” Shoko hummed, “but we shouldn’t have this conversation yet. Maybe in the morning, but not now,” she tried to make her voice sound brighter, feel brighter as if it would fix everything.

“Okay,” you said. Maybe she’s right about this. Shoko discarded the dirty cotton pad, simply placing it on the bedside table. It was at its limits the whole thing turned into the color of your foundation with the small black streaks of your mascara on it, or what was left from it.

She held onto your face gently for a moment too long even after she was done. You opened your eyes to really look at her. She looked so sad and.. young? Yes young was the right word. She looked like a woman robbed out of something sacred. She had been so happy, so easy to excite in her youth, but now all she seemed to carry was baggage.

Your drunken mind wanted to close the distance, but something held you back. Maybe it was all the answers that were still being withheld by her, maybe it was the understanding that it’s not the right time yet.

“Can you stay the night?” you whispered. Shoko breathed in and opened her mouth to say something, but you were faster. “Please? Th-there’s some clothes you can borrow in my closet.”

She stayed quiet and you waited patiently.

“I’ll stay.”

You smiled weakly at her and muttered a gentle thank you. She shuffled up from the bed and walked over the closet you had pointed for her. You turned your back to her when you heard the rustling of clothing that she ended up piling up neatly on one of the spare chairs in your bedroom.

You fluffed up the pillow next to you and lifted up the blanket when she climbed in. You turned your back to her as you lay down on your side. Your hand searched the light switch and then the room was pitch black.

Shoko awkwardly came closer to you till your back was against hers and she played with your hair idly in the silence. The touch was friendly, your body slumping in relaxation almost immediately. It was nice to have someone there. You had gotten so used to being afraid of the nights.

“Good night,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“Night.”

***

You woke up alone with no trace of the woman in your room. She had gotten up earlier than you and dressed up back to the clothes she had in the bar. You hugged your plush blanket, almost burying your whole face underneath it, not ready to face the day.

Your head hurt and you felt nauseous. How is Shoko even able to do things? You wondered to yourself.

The faint knock on the bedroom door disrupted your thoughts as the door opened slightly.

“I made a sandwich for you and found some painkillers, if you want any,” she said and you heard her steps further away again.

You groaned and threw the blanket away from your body, the cold greeting you roughly.

Your kitchen had gotten miraculously cleaner, the multiple empty beer cans piled in a bag and the dishwasher hummed quietly. You stared at the brown table in front of you that had two sandwiches and glasses of water on it, hunger long gone from your body.

“You really should drink less.” Shoko picked up another empty can from the counter just to place it in the bag.

“Like you’re the one to talk.” You sat on the chair with its legs squeaking against the floor with your rough treatment.

You grabbed the pill bottle and rattled out two tablets that you threw in your mouth and drank barely enough water to chase them down.

“What do you remember?” Shoko asked and sat in front of you. She wasn’t feeling very hungry either.

“I remember punching Nanami and the talk we had before we fell asleep,” you mumbled, playing with the edges of the slightly crusty lettuce between your sandwich. You had meant to use it on a salad a few days ago, but you were too tired to cook for yourself. Even the simple things were hard. “What did I tell you?”

“Nothing. You were just crying.”

Oh. So it was like that.

“They assaulted me.” Your face was stern, emotions hidden behind a wall. The words felt weird. It was the first time you had actually said it out loud.

Shoko’s face widened from shock.

“They what?”

“Don’t make me repeat it,” you hissed.

“Sorry, I won’t.”

The silence felt unbearable and you stuffed your face full of bread just to do something.

“They did something similar when we were still in school.” Shoko ripped the hangnail painfully from her skin and pressed on the miniscule wound with one of her fingers.

You chewed the sandwich aggressively without tasting anything, the texture turning to mush in your mouth.

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Your words were way more accusatory than what you wanted.

Shoko turned her head to the side looking hurt by your sudden outburst. Her eyebrows scrunched together in pain as she looked for the perfect words, but there were none.

“You admired them. I didn’t want to take that away from you, and when I realized that I probably should have said..”

“Bullshit, Shoko. It’s been ten years. I deserved to know, you could have-”

“Stop blaming me for their shit!” she yelled. Shoko never yells.

You fell quiet. You reined in your anger, its hands still attempting to reach out to anything it could latch on. She was right. It’s not her burden to bear, but you still couldn’t help but feel powerless, when there could have theoretically been someone who could have told you to not go there.

“Sorry,” you simply said just to drop the topic. Shoko sighed defeatedly and pushed her head briefly against her hands. She understood the anger, she really did.

“They drugged me and then raped me together. I don’t remember a lot from it. I fought back – well attempted to,” your voice shook as you spoke.

The brown haired woman simply looked at you with silent empathy.

“Did you at least get one good punch in?”

Your lips curled into a downhearted smile. The memory of your feeble fight playing in your mind, the weakness and despair of it all, a futile attempt of a prey to preserve their life just one moment longer.

“Not a single one,” you laughed hollowly as one tear rolled on your cheek and your lips trembled. “But I did rip some hair out of Geto at the school,” you tried to brighten your voice and be brave.

Shoko’s eyes watered and she answered your smile with her own.

“Good.”

The almost happy expression faded from your face. Everything hurt, never had you ever thought to be in a situation like this where you were exchanging devastation with your friend like gifts on christmas.

“Why did you stay? Even Nanami left for a while, you could have done the same.” Your question was gentler this time.

Shoko pondered for a minute, not sure of her answer either.

“Because this is the only way I could help. I had you and Utahime and I didn’t want to leave you two behind. Besides what else was I supposed to do? I’ve been given a technique that can save many if I choose right. Had I left a lot more could have died because I wasn’t here — all because of what two men did,” she tried to put her thoughts together.

“There’s a reason why Utahime doesn’t like Gojo,” Shoko blurted out and played with her hair.

You took a careful sip of water as if you were trying to carefully dissect the different flavors of Shoko’s words.

“What do you mean? Did they do something to her as well?”

“No. I just mean that women know, you know? I think it’s in our blood to recognize danger. That’s one of the reasons she despises him. But this is just my thought, not an universal truth,” Shoko wondered out loud.

She breathed in once again as if the words she was about to speak were too painful.

“I think sometimes us women have to carry the atrocities of men. There’s no rhyme or reason why they do certain things. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself. I never went through what you did, but I can’t say that I’m surprised,” she mused. “I’m sorry though. What you went through. It’s not right.”

Her brown eyes stared at you expectantly. You chewed on your lip nervously and tapped the empty plate with your nail, the small tinkle sound working as a metronome.

“No, it’s not,” you huffed. But it feels like it’s my fault. If I had not gone there, if I had not idolized them – loved them even. This wouldn’t have ended this way. It was easier to leave those words in your head.

“So what now?” You looked at Shoko, your eyes pleading, asking for answers, guidance, anything she would be able to provide to you. You knew there was nothing clear cut Shoko could say, but god how you wished that someone would know what to do.

Shoko shook her head in defeat as if telling you that she wasn’t able to point you on the right track like that.

“Whatever you want. You can stay or go, but you don’t have to carry it alone,” Shoko said, her face gentle. You could still draw out the remnants of the young girl from the year two thousand and six on her features. The lines were almost faded but they were still there.

You found kinship in her even if neither of you had shared the full story of what had happened. You weren’t there yet and you weren’t ready. Instead the two of you skirted around words unspoken finding solace of at least having someone who could understand. It was up to the both of you what to make out of the confessions of the past.

#tw: noncon #shoko ieiri x reader #ieiri shoko x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 4 months

Text

To Save A Life

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, John Winchester & daughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: set during 2x01, you die in the accident but John brings you back.

Sam Winchester had never felt more alone in his life. Not even when he’d left home and run away to Stanford all alone. Because at least then, he’d had a secret ally; you. You called him up whenever Dean and dad weren’t around, and the two of you stayed close despite his alienation from the rest of the family.

But he didn’t have that anymore. He awoke in a hospital after the accident only to discover that you’d succumbed to your injuries, and that his brother was hanging on by a thread. And John was no ally now; on the contrary, John’s seeming indifference only made Sam feel more alone. He wasn’t sure if John just couldn’t bring himself to think about what had happened to you and Dean, or if he just didn’t care.

Either way, Sam was finding it hard to believe that you were really gone.

…

Dean didn’t scare easily, but he was starting to freak out. After he’d figured out that he was in a coma and having some freaky out of body experience, the first thing he did was look for his family. Sam and dad he’d found easily, but he couldn’t talk to them. However, he’d searched the entire hospital, but he could find no sign of you. Panicked, he returned to Sam’s room only to find him and John arguing.

“I have a plan,” John was saying.

“Exactly, that’s the problem!” Sam exploded. “Your daughter is dead, and Dean’s dying, and you have a plan!”

Dean staggered back a step, all the breath leaving his…spirit? Did spirits breathe? It didn’t matter, because that’s what it felt like; like every ounce of air had been sucked from him, like he was drowning, like he was dying.

You couldn’t be dead. You couldn’t, it just wasn’t possible.

Dean turned, more determined than ever to find you.

It couldn’t be true.

…

“I want you to bring Dean and Y/N back.”

“I can give you your son for the knife, but your little girl…” Azazel sucked in a breath, enjoying the moment far too much. “She’s already dead. That’s means a lot more power, a lot more paperwork. I need something more.”

John swallowed. “I know what you want.”

“And?” Azazel grinned, his mouth twisting grotesquely.

“And it’s a deal.”

…

Your first breath came as a gasping wheeze, and it took you a moment to disentangle yourself from the…sheet?…that was covering you. You glanced around frantically as memories slowly came back to you—the yellow eyed demon possessing dad—Sam refusing to shoot him—the fight in the car—then—then what?

You remembered blinding lights as a semi came out of nowhere, and then the screech of tires, your own scream mingling with your brothers yells…

And then nothing. Where were you? Were your brothers ok?

You blinked a few times, and your eyes were slowly able to focus on the room around you. It was dark, and cold, and…you recognized it. Not that you’d been in it before, but that you’d been in rooms like it.

When you saw the far wall covered in shiny steel drawers with metal handles, you realized what it was.

You were in a mortuary.

Your breath quickened as your heart rate picked up and your chest constricted. Were you dead? What was going on? Where were Sam and Dean?

Your trembling hands found your pocket, and to your surprise your phone was still there. You yanked it out and pressed the first number on your speed dial.

“Dean? I-I need help…”

…

“And you don’t remember anything?”

“No. Last thing I remember was the accident.”

Sam’s heart constricted as he realized he would have to tell his big brother that you were dead.

“So where’s dad? And Y/N?”

“Dad’s in his room.” Sam took a deep breath. “And-and Y/N’s-“

The ringing of Dean’s phone cut off Sam’s words.

“It’s Y/N,” Dean said, confused but relieved. “I wonder why she doesn’t just come in.” Dean didn’t notice all the color leaving Sam’s face. Dean answered, “Hey kid, where are you?”

“Dean?” Dean’s big brother instincts kicked in at the sound of your panicked voice and rushed breathing. “I-I need help…”

…

You were in the middle of explaining to your big brother where you were when your dad burst into the room.

“Dad?” You dropped the phone and ran to your father. To your surprise, he lifted you into his embrace and held you tightly. You were still trembling as you wrapped your arms around your dad’s neck and held on tight.

“What’s going on?” You choked past the lump in your throat. “Wh-why am I in here?”

“Shh,” John soothed, still unwilling to let you go. “It’s ok, princess, I promise. You’re safe now, I swear.”

“Dad, what happened?” John set you down, and you took a half step back. He kept his hands on your shoulders, as though he was afraid to let you go.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he said, his lips twitching into a relieved smile. “You’re ok, that’s all that matters. Now c’mon, we should go find your brothers.”

…

“Y/N?” Dean frowned, lowering the phone. “I think I heard her say dad. He found her, I guess.” Dean finally noticed the panic on Sam’s face. “Sammy? What’s up?”

“I—“

“Sammy, De!” The brothers both turned at the sound of your voice to see you stepping into the room with John at your heels. You ran to Sam first, since Dean was laying down in the hospital bed. Sam held you in his arms, but Dean saw him staring at John over your shoulder. John avoided Sam’s gaze, and instead turned his attention to his eldest son. A relieved smile broke out on his face when he saw Dean, awake and healthier than he had been the last time John had seen him.

“Dean, you alright?” He asked, to which his son nodded.

“Yes sir.” Dean’s attention turned to you. “Kid, what was with the call? You ok?”

“She got a little lost,” John interrupted before you could speak, and he came to stand by you, putting his hand on your shoulder. “We’re all ok now, that’s what matters.”

Three sets of eyes all turned to stare at John, and they—with varying degrees of confusion—all sensed that he knew something that they didn’t.

Sam was the first to speak up about it.

“Where were you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” John answered.

You flinched in surprise when Sam’s voice raised to a yell.

“Dean was dying, and you just—“

Despite Sam’s tone, John’s interruption was calm.

“Can we…not fight? We always fight,” John chuckled almost sadly. “Half the time I don’t even know what we’re fighting about, we’re just butting heads.”

Sam’s brown wrinkled in confusion, but he didn’t try to restart the fight.

John took a long moment to look at each of his children in turn, and when his eyes met yours, a sickening sensation settled in the pit of your gut. You opened your mouth, intending to ask John what was wrong, but something in his expression stopped you.

There was a sadness lingering behind his eyes, and suddenly you felt as though you didn’t have much time left with your dad.

You didn’t know why you had that feeling, but it didn’t matter; you trusted your instinct. So while Sam and Dean turned their attention to each other, you tugged on John’s arm. When he leaned down, you wrapped your arms around his neck, and he reciprocated your embrace, holding you tighter than he ever had before.

“Don’t go,” you whispered almost without meaning to, still having no idea why you felt like this.

John pulled away to look at you and you met his gaze, hoping to see confusion, hoping your dad would prove you wrong. Instead, there was a sad resolve in John’s eyes, and your heart sank.

“Daddy?” Your broken whisper had tears pooling in the corners of John’s eyes. You hadn’t called him that since you were around ten.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

After an endless moment, John pulled away and spoke to Sam.

“Hey Sam, could you get me some coffee?”

Sam pulled his attention from Dean and nodded a response at his father.

John nudged you, and you knew he wanted you to go with Sam. As you left the room, you spared one last glance at your father.

‘It’s okay,’ he mouthed silently.

…

You had the corner of Sam’s jacket fisted in your hand as the two of you returned to your father’s room. You felt the shift in the air the moment Sam got a glance into the room.

“Dad?” He choked as the coffee cup slipped from his hand.

Your heart pounded as you glanced around your big brother to see your dad sprawled on the floor in his room.

You didn’t speak as doctors and nurses rushed into the room, or when Dean ran to stand beside the two of you, or as the doctors tried to resuscitate John, or when they called the time of death.

You could tell that Sam and Dean had been holding their breaths, holding out hope that John would be saved.

But you knew he wouldn’t, you could feel it. He was gone.

And you knew it was your fault.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

#dean winchester #dean and sam #the winchesters #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam Winchester x little sister!reader #john winchester x daughter!reader #john winchester x reader #john winchester

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licorice-tea · 5 months

Text

You’re An Angel When You Sleep

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: angst, drowning, a little “off-screen” violence, hurt/comfort, near death experience

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: literally wrote this in between classes so hopefully it doesn’t feel too rushed! not edited super closely yet, the grammar might be a little off. inspired by the song “Around The Bend” by Pearl Jam, specifically the last verse <3

Edited 2/28/24

Law is sinking, and there’s nothing he can do.

People call it “The Curse of The Sea.” They say that “she” turns her back on you when you eat a devil fruit. It’s simply the price to pay for such immense power.

And he has never had to worry about it before. His devil fruit ability affords him the security of being to prevent trips into the ocean. Not that he ever would fall- Law is far too careful a man- but he has plenty of crewmates and friends/allies that could somehow knock him overboard.

How sickening, that the first time it actually happened was at the hands of an enemy. And how disappointing, that it had only happened because of his own pride. A foolish disregard of taking caution while standing close to the railing on the enemy ship, when one of his opponent’s underlings threw something that didn’t even really hurt, but sent him overboard. In the midst of a battle where everyone was expected to hold their own- Law could expect no help as he plunged into icy waters.

It’s cold enough as it is, and his curse does nothing to help. He tries his hardest to stay conscious- perhaps he can still use his power if he thinks hard enough. People awaken their devil fruits all the time, so there’s no reason why he can’t do it now. But, no matter how badly he wants to simply teleport back to the deck of the ship, he can’t. The feeling of impending doom only serves to weaken his resolve, and soon enough Law is unwillingly giving up and giving in to the sea.

He’s about 10-12 meters down now. The weight of the water makes it feel nearly impossible to hold his breath for longer, so he lets out an exhale ever so slowly.

But no one is coming, and it’s time to accept his fate. “This is it,” he thinks, “just another pirate lost to the sea. That’s how it ends for me.”

He takes a moment to reflect on life up until now. So much pain and suffering, but in the end he just can’t stop remembering what little good there has been. His crew, who, no matter how much they bothered him, were his family. His blood family and Corazon, who he hopes to see again soon if there is any sort of afterlife. Then there’s you- with your uncanny ability to make him smile and laugh, your clever personality and friendly nature, all your strength and intelligence, and seemingly unwavering good morals. Law feels he barely deserves to have known you in this life, let alone fall in love with you as he has. Which is why he never shared his feelings with you or anyone, in all the time you’d been on his crew. Before this moment, he’d at least had the comfort of knowing there would always be the future, and therefore more time to open up to you figure out his feelings.

“How foolish.”

Law is just about to close his eyes- at least then it might be a more peaceful demise- when there’s a splash that breaks the surface of the waves. His eyes shoot wide open as he tries to figure out what it is, as it’s rather difficult to see clearly with his vision blurring and on the verge of losing consciousness.

All he can be sure of is that it’s a person. The light from above the waves surrounds their silhouette giving them an angelic halo, but simultaneously blocking out all their features from his view.

Law wonders, “Are you here to seal my fate? To ensure I don’t find some way out of this?” If he could, he’d ask that they do it quickly. Still, that painfully hopeful little part of his mind can’t help but come out in what are more than likely his last moments alive. “Or, are you here to save me? Are you gonna give me a second third chance at this? I don’t deserve it, but I will accept it. I’ll use it to do more; work harder, fulfill every goal. Confess to y/n.”

And that hopeful streak seems to take over his body as he uses his last iota of strength to reach upwards. Law’s angel continues swimming downward, but he can’t hold his breath long enough to see them reaching out to him, too.

His last thought is of you. He swears he can see your face on this mystery person as they get closer; your pretty eyes and lips, your hair swirling around your form underwater. Could it actually be… No, he doubts you’d even seen him falling overboard. But maybe he’s already dead, and you really are an angel. Law doesn’t get the chance to fully consider either reality though, as he finally blacks out.

“Gimme gimme gimme… a man after midnight…”

This is how Law taught you to do CPR on someone whose heart had stopped. Years ago, when you were struggling with keeping count of 100-120 beats per minute, he told you to “think of a song with the same count.” Most everyone’s go-to CPR song is “Stayin’ Alive.” But, you prefer the classic ABBA song. You pause every 30 compressions to administer 2 breaths, and as you remove your lips from his, a thought crosses your mind. “He looks so peaceful like this.” And even while unconscious, he’s handsome… angelic, even. Nevertheless, you’d much rather have an alive and annoyed looking Law than a dead and calm one.

“Is there a soul out there… Someone to hear my-”

Law coughs suddenly, and shoots up into a sitting position, gasping for breath.

“Law!” You throw your arms around his neck, nearly knocking the man back over.

And though he’s still catching his breath and coming to his senses, he lets you, and puts an arm around your back. “Y/n,” another cough, “what happened?”

You release him (much to his disappointment) and explain how the fight had ended soon after the crew lost sight of him; their captain. And, while the others quickly overtook the enemies, you dove overboard where you’d last seen him. It was pure luck, though guided by your intuition, that you found Law beneath the surface.

“Then I swam over here-“

“Which is where?”

You nod in the direction behind him. “Just around the bend from the harbor. The Polar Tang and the enemy’s ship can be seen from there, so I thought it’d be best to hide while you…”

“While I was dying.”

“Don’t say it like that,” you scold him with a frown, “you’re alive.”

“But I could have died.” Law says with very little pride. He sounds a little out of it, which makes sense considering the circumstances. “I could have died, and you saved me.”

“Well, any one of us would’ve, Captain-“

“Thank you, y/n.”

You shake your head bashfully. “It was no problem, really.” That’s a lie, and you both know it. The water in this part of the ocean is freezing, but through some incredible resolve that you hadn’t been aware of before, you pushed through it. For him. “So… We should get back to the fight, yeah?”

You move to stand up from your place on your knees, but Law stops you. With his hand on your shoulder, he pulls you back down to his side. “You said the fight is over?”

“Mhm.”

“Then let’s just… stay here, for a moment.”

He leans toward you hesitantly, though you’re not sure if it’s because he feels weak or he just wants you to hold him again. Either way, you wrap your arms around him and rest your chin on his shoulder. You hold onto each other with gentle force, and you feel him exhale deeply.

“I need to tell you something.” Law mutters.

You pull back enough to see his face. “Right now? Can’t it wait, Law-“

“I can’t want any longer.” And he really can’t. He’d tell you about how he had mistaken you for a living, breathing angel another time. For now, he just needs to fulfill his promise to said angel (to you?), and confess his love for you.

“Ok… What is it?”

Law is very straightforward as he says it. “I’m in love with you.” And he makes it impossibly hard to return to the battle when he asks that you never leave him in this life, like so many others have. Which you promise not to, of course, though it’s not exactly your decision. You tell him that you love him too, and in turn demand that he doesn’t die on you, either. Law nods against you.

The two of you stay there a while longer, in each other’s arms around the bend.

#fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece #x reader #law x reader #law x you #law angst #angst with a happy ending #angst #h/c #devil fruit #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law #law x y/n

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day-drawn-blog · 8 months

Text

Part V: I feel your heart beat in my soul, our futures bound, our bodies known. - I want to live

Pairing: Astarion x Reader -- This is set in Act I

This is part 5. The rest are linked below.

Tags: angst, fluff, eventually smut because I do love that

Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace

Part IV: There is more to do and I still want to live

Part VI: These ain't my sins, I broke my chains

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours?

Part VIII: Your blood like wine, I wanted in.

Part IX: I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

_____

The day after, you all wandered through the mountain road. You were feeling better. Halsin had ensured you were healing. So did Shadowheart. Laezel looked at you with pride in her eyes. You walked slower than the others. Supported by karlach sometimes. Sometimes Shadowheart. Sometimes carried by karlach.

Astarion would turn to look at you every now and then. You would look away if he did. It made you blush.

Did he really tell you those things?

You wanted to talk to him about last night. But there had been no opportunity yet. Everyone was wary. Everyone was tired. everyone was covered in dust and blood. Yesterday had taken a lot out of all of you. You all prayed for a safe journey and looked forward to setting camp. It felt like you had been walking for an eternity.

So when you found a place at sunset next to a pool of water, everyone was collectively overjoyed. Not only could you all rest, you could all finally feel clean. Karlach and Wyll volunteered to clean everyone's clothes, you were all very grateful. Karlach said she he can dry them real fast. You were curious.

You were looking forward to getting into water.

At nightfall. Laezel dragged you to the pool. Halsin was already there. Everyone had stripped down to minimum inner wear. So you did too. Embarrassing at first but quickly you went in and all was okay. Laezel was very close to you. Lately she has been. It was both flattering and intimidating. But you didn't mind. You liked being liked. Maybe everyone was warming up to you. You enjoyed the feeling.

Shadowheart appeared with Astarion.

She was always beautiful. She looked like a goddess right now. Her long dark hair emphasized by her pale bare skin even more. Her body was immaculate. So was yours, you knew. You were all warriors after all. But something about being wanted, made her more attractive you thought. She was confident. She did not yearn. She had it.

Astarion got into the water as well.

He went to the other side - a little away from you. To join Halsin. Gale joined them too. Shadowheart came next to you and La'ezhel and smiled. "I'm slightly afraid of water. Did you know". Her voice was so melodious. You thought. No wonder she is loved so much.

"Then shouldn't you not be here. I mean, what if you drowned?" Laezel joked or maybe not. You could never tell. "Oh come now. Waist deep water doesn't scare me". Everyone chuckled at the banter.

You stole a glance at Astarion.

He was looking at her, smiling, as if proud that she got in the water. Your mistake. What did you expect. Just like any of the other countless times. The only difference was that shadowheart was on your side of the party. She had her arms around you. Maybe they all, got worried yesterday. You appreciated the loving gesture. You felt included and wanted.

You decided to be kind to her too.

You would not take away, that which belonged to her. That would be cruel. She was your friend. And ally. And like the others on this journey to salvation, needed your help too. And so you would not turn your back to her. No matter how much it hurt. And it did. It hurt just thinking about it. Familiar pangs. Sharp. Cutting.

You didn't realize how sad you looked right then. But Astarion did. And he frowned.

Soon after, among the chatter, you decided it was time to leave. You needed rest. Your aching body was catching up. You expressed that, and got up to leave. Halsin called you out. "let me put the medicine on your wounds before you sleep. Let's get Karlach." You turned to look at him and noticed Astarion looking at you. What was that stare? It was not nonchalant. Searching... fixating.

Odd.

You suddenly felt acutely aware of how little you were wearing. You felt really vulnerable, and you hurried away. To get Karlach.

Back in your tent, after Halsin and Karlach had gone, you were finally able to take off your wet clothes. You decided it was a warm enough night to sleep with no clothes under the covers. So you did.

No one in camp went in anyone's tents without knocking first so you were certain you could get away with such wanton abandon for one night. You could still feel the tingling from the cool waters. You were almost asleep.

"I got your dry clothes karlach sent"

Astarion came traipsing in carrying warm dry clothes that karlach had tasked him to take to you. You jolted up. You grabbed the covers and clutched them hard around you. How could you forget?! This guy comes and goes to your tent as he pleases. And that's your own doing!

"Could - could you give me a moment!!"

He stopped, stared, shocked, blushed and turned around. "Oh yes! Terribly sorry! My apologies. That was very impolite of me" he stood with his back to you "where do you want these?" You gestured to next to him, he placed them down still looking away. You pulled the covers all around.

"My apologies, again. I will see you later".

"Wait"

"Hmm?"

"Last night... You said .... "

He turned to look you in your eyes. Very solemn. You couldn't understand his piercing unwavering gaze.

"I will.... I promise"

"Are you really... That grateful to me ...?"

"More than grateful." His voice was low.

"You don't need to be. I... don't expect anything in return. I do it because I want to help, you. Everyone".

"And I want is to repay your kindness."

You looked down. And smiled a little. It was just that. You helped him. He returned the favor. It was sweet. You should be happy with this. Very happy. This is what you wanted after all. To be needed. To save someone. To help.

There was silence.

He approached. "How do you feel, today?" And he took your hand in both of his and kissed it. The way he usually does. A reminder. Of your unspoken contract. You thought.

"Almost as good as new".

He was waiting. You knew. You sat down. To get comfortable. He sat in front at the foot of your bed. He kissed your hand again as if he was impatient. Then he kissed the palm of your hand and looked at you. Straight in your eyes, with his lips on your palm. He will not wait anymore you thought. His stare was somewhat threatening. Or maybe you were timid. When he was concerned.

You decided to tease him.

You said nothing. He kissed a fingertip of yours and you bit your lip. Enough. You could feel yourself tense up. Down there. Throbbing and pulsating. Curse him. He is truly the devil. But you persevered. You wanted to test yourself.

When it failed to get the permission he wanted, he decided to make a move.

He leaned forward and moved closer to you. You were so startled you fell backwards. Down on your bed, propped up by your elbows. He put one arm next to your head and pinned you down while looking down at you. You stared at his beautiful face, blankly.

What is happening?

"You know", he smiled, seductively, "if you keep teasing me like this, I might want.... more ...". He said the last word very softly. But it rang through your body. You felt a pulsation. Another throb. You stared at him in your shock and surprise. Unsure what to do. This was not your plan. Who is this man.

Is this what he does to Shadowheart at night?

"More?!" Your desire to play the game had heightened.

He smiled again - a beautiful smile, charming and happy.

"Why yes, darling. I'm talking about that lovely neck of yours, of course".

What?!

All this time, all he wanted...was to bite your neck?! Your neck.... His lips would be ....to your neck...you would feel...his face, next to yours.... It was very... frighteningly.....tempting....

What happened to your aversion of being bit in the neck? Why do you crave it now? What has this man done to you? Robbed you of yourself and your reason it seems.

You stared at him in disbelief.

"May I"?

"I promise to be gentle. I promise....it will feel good."

For you!!! You thought. What?!

But you were losing yourself in the honey from his words. He is too close. Breathing on you. You could smell him. Feel him. He was slowly getting closer and and closer. You may be getting used, but perhaps you may get something out of this after all! You bargained.

The opportunity to touch him.

You could touch his hair, his face, maybe even his back.... You felt lust overtake every part of your body as you closed your eyes and looked away, exposing your lovely neck to him. Praying he wouldn't hurt you.

He lowered himself. One leg between yours. His face fit closer to yours. And you felt his warm breath on your skin. The anticipation was painful. He touched your skin with his lips. You sucked in air and gasped. He kissed your neck lightly like he would your hand. Shivers ran down you. Was this really happening? Your pulse quickened. You were throbbing.

He kissed it a few more times. Soft, gentle, as if savoring it. You bit your lips to stop yourselves from moaning. Why is he doing this? You clutched the bed and the covers tight. You had stopped breathing.

Then he gently pierced his fangs in you. Very slowly. And settled in. You moaned. You knew it no longer matted - he would not notice anymore. Bliss. Because you could now let go of the covers. You grabbed him with both hands. Clutching the shirt on his back.

Fair exchange. You thought.

As he drained you, you let you several breathy quiet moans. And you arched your back. You so wished to be touched. But you knew, he was not making love to you.

You lifted your leg at one point. And realized, as it grazed him. He was, very hard. He was a man after all, and this was very intimate. Or maybe, feeding made him so happy. You didn't care... your brain was fuzzy. It was pleasurable. You couldn't believe that it was him you were sharing such a pleasure with. You wished this would last a bit though not much because you did love your body.

Eventually you tugged his hair sharply. And he finally stopped. He let out a sharp gasp of air. Then proceeded to lick the wound. Like he always did. It was not helping. Several times, your throbbing self, your leg brushed past he hard self. It only made you want him more. You tugged at his shirt with both your hands now. He kept kissing.

His kisses got wetter, louder, till he was obviously just a man savoring his lover and no longer a vampire savoring his prey. He kissed and licked under your ears. Then kissed your ears. Too much. Too close. His face was too close. He kissed your cheek. And licked it once.

Stop. What are you doing.

But he didn't. He held your face and licked the other side. Kissed your other cheek. It was as if he was so euphoric he had lost control. You moaned louder and louder. Stop. You begged him mentally.

But also, not to.

He continued to kiss your other neck, and ear, down to your collarbone now. And came back up to your chin. Your head was tilted all the way back. You dared not open your eyes lest you lose control too. You were in his complete embrace at this point.

But then, he finally did stop.

He paused and looked at you. Searching for something in your eyes. You looked at him then his lips. Then his eyes again. He was so close. His nose was almost touching yours. You must be going crazy. You didn't want him to leave yet. And he was right there. You had to. You just did.

You reached up and kissed him.

Surprised at first, he kissed you back. Hard. Your head was back in the pillow. He took charge. Moved your hands away and dragged your cover away. Your nipples were probably very hard and visible you thought.

He paused. As if something had just brought him back to reality. He then looked at you. your uncovered half, your nipples. He looked at your naked half body for a second. Then sat back up. Covered his face in his hands for a few moments. Then he got up and ran out.

Part VI: These ain't my sins, I broke my chains

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #astarion angst #astarion fluff #astarion smut #vampire love #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #fanfic #romance fanfic #smut fanfiction #smut #angst #fluff

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chiptrillino · 2 months

Note

All I saw what the art of the Blue Spirit (Dark Water Spirit?) from your blog (was it you who made it? its fucking fantastic) and Ive lost my mind. I wanna know all about your crincly blue dude. pls. they look amazing. i need to know more

hahah yes i drew the blue spirit based on the fan theory that koh stole his face. LINK

i know that like the only similarities are like the thicker eyebrows, tusk (although upside down) and a stronger nose and well.. that they are BLUE.

thank you for liking my crinkly version so much. i have some drawings planed for him but i can't like pick what he wears on a daily basis hahah (or nocturnal)

some short points about my version of him: (one day kuruk will get his own book and all of this is pointless but i don't care these are my headcanons and don't have to be true!)

He belongs to Tui and La's court. He is a water spirit, kind of the same rank as the painted lady, but not tied to one single river. If the Spirits of the Moon and Ocean give a command, he follows. (Not like the fish command much)

he is OLD! Which is why he is featured in the Love Among the Dragons and Earth Kingdom opera plays. (He is probably a gigantic romantic sap and can't help himself but play matchmaker) contrary to popular belive. No he can't turn spirits mortal, but he sure can kick their asses out the spirit world. And the dragon emperor deserved it! No clue what the empress saw in that guy)

if he was born a spirit or made a spirit is rather unclear because he regularly invents a new origin story for himself. "Oh i was a poor fisherman that caught a withe fish, and then the ocean roared and drowned me, because i accidentally caught the moon. And as an apology, they turned me immortal", "i was an earth bender that was born way too close to water", "My mom is a dragon, and my father is a water serpent. Yeah, I don't imagine how they did conceive me... " "you see that water whirlpool there? Thats where i jumped out of!"

he travels a lot. Dissolves into rivers to reform in another place in an instant. He has a big soft spot for humans, especially children. He lives for how creative they are in the way they play, turn the night into days, and danger into fun.

He is a bit up sad over being used as a tool to cause fear in kids to be careful around deep waters, though.

There is this uneasy feeling you get when looking into deep, dark waters. But it's not something evil. He is a warning that, as fun as water can get, there is danger in it.

i like to give him a bigger role with avatar Kuruk. During the time Kuruk distanced himself from his friends and kept on fighting on his own spirits, corrupting and deterioating his spirit and health. Blue popped up. Kuruk saw him first like all the other spririts only with time reluncantly accepting him as an ally.

Blue is on Kuruk's side when they try to retrieve Umi's face from Koh. He loses the fight and gets his face stolen in the process. Since then, the dark water spirits had existed in plays and occasionally as a cover for a fire nation prince to cause mischief.

he never got along with Koh. Their views on humans are different. Also blue usually being in the way of koh.

blue: bitch with mommy issues!

koh in tears: At least i have a mom!

#chip!ask #koh #scruncly blue guy #and yeha kuruk and he had as well a thing going but kuruk won't ever talk about it #or invite umi over....

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yeyinde · 2 years

Text

in undertow | Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader

They won’t shut up about why he wears the mask.

This isn't anything new. You've heard it all before.

Maybe, then, it's the rookie inside of you still burning to be included, to be acknowledged, accepted, that makes you flick your mic on with a single press of your stupid little finger. Makes you open your stupid little mouth, and say:

"You're all wrong, boys; he's just keeping my seat warm."

(a joke at your lieutenant's expense has unexpected consequences.)

part ii

tw: gratuitous smut; unfettered filth; face-sitting: oral - f!receiving; female!reader; male-solo: Ghost makes himself cum whilst drowning in pussy; some plot. kinda. but it’s mostly 7K+ of clownfoolery

notes: Ghost eats pussy like he’s starving. that’s it. that’s all, folks.

(also, this is so thirsty. this man is making me feral. send help pls)

*bonnie-scottish term of endearment, kinda similar to hen or lass, and is not a name. MC is not named.

It's not uncommon to tune into a channel on downtime, and hear your Lieutenant being mentioned in some manner or another.

Ghost is infamous. Legendary. The men in your unit, and the ones you ally up with, are–in equal measure–his biggest fan, and his bitter rival.

It's all one-sided, of course. If Ghost was any other man, you'd confidently say that he didn't even know who they were, but he isn't. And he does. Which, of course, makes the rivalry all that more bitter, blistering, when he refuses to acknowledge their challenges.

He proves himself time and time again, and isn't even trying to.

So, they flex their arms– see, bigger than yours –but he hardly notices, much to their chagrin.

Sometimes, they'd turn to you–the unofficial arbitrator, a denomination that seemed unanimously decided on by the whole team; Ghost, bemusingly, included–and ask stupid questions:

Who's arms are bigger? Mine, come have a feel, lass.

Ghost seemed decidedly tolerant of these moments, watching with those dangerous eyes as your hands flexed around the bulk of your teammates' bicep, cooing cloyingly at him. Ooh, working out, I see. Feels like the leg of a fawn!

Now 'im, they'd say, your heart would warble in your chest.

A strange, off-rhythm pulse that almost hurt. He'd match your gaze when you looked over your shoulder, peering at the imposing man lurking in the midst of everyone else. Firm, steady. Unflinching. He'd hold it, always.

He does that, doesn't he?

When Ghost looks at you, the air in your lungs dissipates; dissolves into ashes, then into smoke.

(Sometimes, he stares at you, and it feels like a challenge. Like he's waiting for something.)

Your smile folds, wan. Lieutenant–

Go on, then! He ain't bigger than me.

It turns several shades of apologetic when you slide up to him, palms spread flat, docile. Walking up to him feels like approaching a predator. Any sudden movements, and he'll have your neck between his jowls. He never would, you know this deep down. But still.

You, uh, don't have to let me.

His head would duck down–too tall to look at you without bringing a kink to his neck–and his eyes would waver in the light. Midnight black to charcoal. Smoke. Ash. The same taste in your lungs.

S'alright. He'd prop his arm up for you, eyes dancing. Best get it done with before these geezers get into a fit.

He doesn't look away. Doesn't break contact. It's intense. Too much.

You demure.

You're not submissive to anyone. Your teammates, the enemy, politicians–no one makes you break. No one makes your chin lower to your chest, your eyes drop. You can't–not, really. Not here. Not in this world where everyone is looking at you like you're too soft, too vulnerable, to be of any use. When even your teammates slip sometimes, try to carry you despite knowing how capable you are on your own.

The hurdle you have to fling yourself over just to prove yourself to your teammates, your backers, is a skyscraper.

They call you Nile –the moniker born from the startling resemblance to the aggressive, territorial crocodiles that live in the water–and you do your best to live up to the comparison.

You don't shy away from anyone.

Except him.

Your eyes fix on your feet. Hands tremble as they slide over the hard muscle of his biceps–firm, unyielding: flesh-covered iron. Your stomach in knots. Chest too tight.

Ghost's eyes are glued to your face. His muscles flex under your exploratory fingers. Ticking, bulging. His flesh jumps when you touch him. The heat of his skin sear your fingertips, so hot you think it might burn the prints off your hands.

You both love and hate these moments.

When hypoxia flashes through your head–dizzying, nauseating–you step back, clear your throat, and stammer out the winner.

Ghost, always Ghost.

His eyes are shades lighter. Slate-grey, now. Amusement, you think.

The men around you riot, demanding a rematch.

(You blame it on testosterone.)

One such occurrence happens to be right now. The comm is clogged with feverish conspiracy theories as to why Ghost wears the mask ranging from the grounded (to conceal his identity–he's a big OP: can't go showing his ugly mug to everyone) to the absurd (he's probably hideously deformed; heard he took a hit to the face–considering what I heard is under there, I'd say he's doing us all a favour), and everything in-between.

This isn't anything new. You've heard it all before.

"You're all wrong, boys," you purr, eyes fixed on the weapon you were tinkering with. "He's just keeping my seat warm."

The line goes pin-drop silent. A poignant shush. It's so eerily, unnaturally quiet on the comm, that you look up, blinking. Was it frozen?

You glance at the computer, checking the channel to see if you'd changed it by accident. It's on. And–

Open, it says. Open mic. Open broadcast.

It never occurred to you to check the channel they were using.

It's not a private one between groups; it's the main one.

Why would these bellends use the main comm to talk about a man, their superior officer, on the channel he preferred, the one he was always tuned into?

You pale. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You blame your stupid little mouth, and testosterone. Mostly, testosterone.

Maybe, Ghost wasn't listening. Maybe, he –

"Jesus Christ," Soap groans after several agonising seconds. Soap, who was on recon with Ghost. Soap, who was with Ghost. Soap who –

The line falls dead once more. No one says anything. Not even a murmur of how well and truly fucked you are. Then, it crackles again. You jump, tensing. Please be some stupid rookie. Please be someone else. Please don't be–

"Fuckin' hell," comes the brassy timbre, the sandpaper tone scratching your ear.

You shiver. You're fired. No, no–they can't fire you, you know too much. You're dead. You're–

"Rookie," he barks. You struggle to stifle a whimper. "Report to me when I get back."

You weakly stammer out a yes, sir, Lieutenant, sir.

"And everyone else – get off the main channel."

Nervous would be an understatement.

It's the crushing weight of utter humiliation, embarrassment, and shame all admixing into an imbroglio of dire consequences looming ahead. Your stomach is in knots.

There are murmurs of sympathy from the others when they eventually make their way back into the pseudo-compound, but you notice none of it. Eyes fixed on a crack in the concrete. Shoulders up to your ears. Cheeks stained the colour of the Russian oligarch you gunned down the night prior.

Nile is nowhere to be found. You're no longer the wet-behind-the-ears Rookie, barely of legal age, as you clamber through the ranks in a spiteful, feverish effort to prove yourself. Now, a fully fleshed adult: moulded by your determination and grit to persevere.

You're the little girl pushed to the pavement. Skinned knees, blistered palms. Drenched in rain, and told you're not enough.

"Fuck me," comes the slurred drawl of Soap. You flinch.

"Yeah," you agree.

No words need to be said. You're done. Over. You stroke the barrel of your rifle, and wonder if you'll be forced into an office job, running the numbers, working in a barren cubicle that sinks of fresh paper and ink. The only action comes from Martha's affair with Josh in Finance.

"Y'know…," he adds, because apparently, some words need to be said. Your gaze flickers toward him. He leans against the metal pillar, arms folded. "Never seen the Lieutenant speechless before."

You let out a whimper. Fucked, royally, of course–Soap only confirms what you already know. What you've known the moment you looked up, a stupid little smirk on your stupid little face, and saw the meagre amount of respect you clobbered together from your Lonewolf–actions have consequences and if it were you or the mission, don't even bother asking what his choice is Lieutenant being summarily flushed down into the depths. Obliterated because you couldn't keep your stupid little mouth shut.

Because you heard ugly and deformed and immediately thought of smoke. Ashes. Gasoline. Gunpowder. Firm biceps that leapt at your touch–the only man to do so when you feigned annoyance and reluctantly felt them up–and the velvet steel of his bulk. Your hands didn't fit around the thick of him. It made your head dizzy. Made your heart ache. Heat throbbing between your legs in a way that most men never even accomplished with you spread out and willing. And–

Eyes darker than the ocean, framed by ashen lashes that fluttered when he glanced down at you, brushing over the coal smeared around his face.

You thought of him–that stupid Cockney mouth and those stupid jokes–and how – how stupid he makes you, and you –

Stupid.

Full stop. End. Done. Fin.

Maybe, you can grovel for transfer. Please don't kick me out completely, I've done so much to simply prove myself – more than most of the men here because I've had to, and I don't want to lose it all because I'm–

"Stupid." You spit the word like a curse.

Beside you, Soap huffs.

"Ain't the only one, bonnie."

Shame blisters your cheeks, and the burn of it makes you a coward. Weak.

You spend the rest of the day idling away in your makeshift quarters (a closet, really) in the compound loaned by the government who requested your aid. Stiff-limbed, you lay back on the cot, and try to commit everything around you to memory.

Noises from the men downstairs. Chatter and laughter. Loud and raucous. The heady scent of testosterone is thick in the air, mixing with the cloying tang of cigarette smoke, cigars, and the bitter taste of gun oil. Kerosene rich, and stifling.

The bed is lumpy, but in the middle of nowhere luxury is hardly needed when you're making a massacre of men who want to start a war. It's far more than you'd gotten before. Alvarez jokes, saying at least it isn't the ground. You're inclined to agree.

Your gear sits in the corner, tightly packed as it had been when you'd first arrived, and dropped it there. You never unpack your things. Experience gives you the foresight to know it's useless, dangerous. Your location can be slipped at a moment's notice. Gunfire ripping through the metal on a whim.

Ghost never unpacks, either. Soap. Most of the men here don't.

But now you wish you had.

The pile of it feels like an omen as it sits, mocking you; ready to go when you're given the boot.

You wrench your eyes away from it when the salty burn of tears you haven't shed since Porthmadog rear. It's fine. You clench your fists into tight balls by your side. It'll be okay. You'll get on–your experience and insight make you a desirable name to have; someone lusted after when they needed intel only you managed to wiggle out, and get. Another team will be easy to find once the politicians paying for them read about your exploits.

On paper, anyway.

Nile is a name that makes their fingers spasm.

You, however, are a name that makes them hesitate.

You'll have to start at the bottom again. Kissing the gravel with your palms once more; struggling to find your foothold along the chossy that wants you weak. Wants you broken, and docile. Obedient.

Ghost never asked that of you.

He looked at you, hands curled into half-moons by your side, eyes unwavering as you glared at the man backing the mission, and ground out your accomplishments like you were spitting in his face.

"I don't know…" he started, hesitating; his eyes flickering down the length of your body. Too small compared to the men they'd seen before you. Too fragile. Giving.

All at once, you were back in Porthmadog. Salt on your cheeks. In the air. Your throat. Gravel digging into your palms. Broken down into a crushed shell with nothing inside. It was the day you realised you were empty. Hollow. Nothing. Vacant. A vacuum.

Worthless.

What good is a man if he has nothing to lose? Ghost speaks for the first time, and your eyes find his through the palpable cloud of rejection. So, what've you got to lose, soldier?

Soldier. Not girl, not Dame, not Duchess, Princess. Soldier.

You square your shoulders, eyes blazing. Everything, you vow. All the substance you pushed inside of the barren landscape of who you once were, filling it with purpose, and dignity. A reason to live. A reason to be. Everything.

His head tipped back. The whites of his eyes were fuller under the flushed lamp on the desk.

Inside, you could almost glimpse that same emptiness you found when they'd broken you into pieces, and nothing spilt out.

"A'right." He nods. "Welcome to the team."

The team. The patchwork family of people far too unhinged to fit into the rest of the world. Names and faces came and went. Many were lost to the effort, to the cause. Time to mourn took place outside of this microcosm when no one was around to see you break.

You'll miss them. It rings out in the hollow gap between your rib and your heart, an aching sting that has your hands spasming around the sheets to stem the sudden hurt. Fuck, you'll really miss these goddamn idiots.

And Ghost, too.

The prickly leader who says he'd sacrifice all of you if it meant finishing the mission, but still throws himself into the fire so none of you gets burnt. The man who bites at your heels, snaps at your attempts to get closer, but brushes his fingers along the seam of your arm, chin jerking toward the only closet in the compound where he'd dropped your cot.

Up there, soldier.

He's a bastard of the worst kind. Surly, mean, and gruff around the edges, but he's a good man despite what he says. He's a great leader–the best, undoubtedly, that you've ever had. That you will have.

And you might be a little bit in too deep already. Washed out to sea in the middle of a hurricane, and left floundering as waves crashed over you in the form of a brutal, off-limits affection for a man who keeps everyone at a distance.

Maybe, this is for the best. Leaving here now, when these feelings are simply tugging at you, and not yet dragging you under. It might be a better alternative than being discovered with your head under the waves, and your lungs filled with salt from the sea.

It's better this way, then.

The call comes hours later. The compound is empty. Silent. Your comm rings, and it feels like a guillotine being hoisted into position.

Right.

You haul yourself out of the cot, and go meet your end.

You will yourself not to demure under the heavy slate of his eyes, but it's futile. You wilt, pathetically submissive to this behemoth of a man. Face downcast, shoulders hunched.

"Let's not fuck about, alright?" the gritty timber of his voice makes your chest shudder.

You nod. Sharp, and deep. Dutiful soldier. You brace yourself for it. He won't draw it out. He isn't the type.

But you falter when his hands tug on the end of his mask.

"Keepin' it warm, huh?" He asks, but you know by the tone alone that it's rhetorical.

"Sir, I–" you falter, stammering into a terse silence. What excuse do you have?

"Well," he asks, lifting his head. Eyes brand your body. The command is clear. "Aren't you comin' to take your seat, Rookie?"

You sputter. Shattering. The world as you know it flips on its axis. Upside down and wrong.

It's a joke. It has to be. A cruel one. A bad dream that will leave you in aching shambles when you wake, stealing with it a piece of yourself that you'll never reclaim. Another etch in the exterior of who you are. A fracture.

"S-sir–," you gasp, choking on the word when his hands lift, pulling up the bottom of his mask until a full, pink mouth is revealed to you. "What–"

"It's gettin' cold, now."

Seeing him speak is blindsiding. You're so used to painted jowls moving, a mockery of bared, white teeth, and a warped jawbone. This is – this is too much. This is –

Not good.

Ghost doesn't seem bothered at all when he settles, leaning on the back of the desk, eyes burning through you. Bulging forearms cross over his massive chest. The ripple of ink flexing, breathing, with his impatience that thrums in the air like a heartbeat.

"Best hurry up." His tongue–his fucking tongue; blood-red and wet –flicks out, gliding over chapped lips.

"Lieutenant–," his title is a strangled wince from the depths of your bewilderment, flavoured with uncertainty. "This is–is a joke, yeah?"

His head tilts. "Do I look like the joking type?"

And that's such a misleading question. So utterly stupid, you choke a little on a bark of hysterical laughter.

"How am I supposed to answer that?"

"Or were you joking, soldier?"

The breath sucked in between clenched teeth is audible.

"Fuckin' hell," he rasps in response. "Then stop muckin' about and get over here if you want it."

If you want it.

He addresses the power imbalance by placing the choice in your hands. By giving you the freedom to decide what to do with this. Take the step, or leave his office, and never speak of this moment again.

If you stay– sit on his face –you're not entirely sure how you'll handle being around him afterwards. Will it be a–a thing? A one-off?

And could it just be a one-time thing for you? Once you have him so intimately, can you forget it, move on? Go back to the pining. The slow descent into an inescapable chasm where you have feelings– blasphemous –for your Lieutenant. For Ghost.

But could you just walk away from this?

You don't know. Neither question has a clear answer, and you're once again treading frothing waters. Left to sink or swim all on your own.

Ghost says nothing while you mull it over, but there's a weight in his gaze that makes your stomach prickle with want. A heaviness inside the inky black of his stare that makes your thighs squeeze together, pussy aching with need.

The choice is pretty obvious.

Your hands drop to your trousers, fingers peeling off the buttons.

For once, your eyes never leave his.

For the first time, Ghost is the one to look away.

His tongue slides out again when you wiggle out of your pants, thumbs crooked in the band of your panties, until you're bared before him. Your trousers pooling at your ankles. Panties caught on your calves.

His swallow is a gunshot. It clicks in his throat.

"Christ, Princess."

You step out of them, licking your lips. "No muckin' about."

His eyes darken at your words. "Get the fuck over here, then."

"Is that an order?"

"Affirmative, soldier."

With your approach, he sinks to his knees on the floor, eyes only for you. His breath is haggard when he catches a glimpse of your cunt when you're less than an arm length away from him, eyes fixed on your mound.

"M'gonna touch you, now." His head lifts, stare bores into you.

The brass in his voice makes your belly tingle, makes heat bloom inside of you. It has you whimpering your consent, and the moment it leaves your throat, his hands–fever hot and rough–are on you.

They settle, heavy and firm, on your hips, pulling your stomach into his face. The plastic of his mask digs into your skin when he presses his covered nose above your mound, breathing in deeply.

His eyes flutter shut. Ashen lashes brush over the bulge of his mask where it sits, piled up, on the bridge of his nose. You want to reach out, and touch. Slip your fingers through his hair. Cup his jaw. You want to press your mouth against his, and taste the flavour of his tongue. You want, you want –

His eyes snap open. Black holes. Unfathomably deep, and quivering around the edges.

"C'mon, Princess," his voice sounds like it was wrenched through barbed wire, smokey and thick. "Kept it nice and warm for you."

You can't stop the shiver that rockets down your spine at his tone, dark and primal. He looks at you, and you feel like a meal. A lavish banquet in face of a man starved.

"Fuck, Ghost–" you moan, your hips jerking in his hold.

"Simon," he rasps, tongue flicking over to taste the skin of your mound. You feel the knick of teeth, grazing and blunt, and it almost wrecks you. He hadn't even started, and your knees are practically knocking together; cunt dripping slick down your thighs.

His hand glides down the curve of your flesh until he meets the seam of your legs. "Spread 'em, pet. I wanna see your pretty cunt."

Fuck–

Your knees quiver, almost giving out under you at the base tone, drenched in the slick coil of want, hunger. He's there, hands firm and unyielding on your body, a low chuckle falling from his lips when he catches the shake in your legs.

"Little fawn is just achin' for it, ain't you?"

"Please, Simon –" he pulls your thighs apart, peering at the apex where your glistening sex is waiting for him.

He buries his head in your belly, groaning at the sight of you–all pretty and pink for him, and so wet he can see where it leaks out, drenching your flesh.

"Fuck, pet," he grinds the words out from between clenched teeth, inhaling deeply as if he can't get enough of your scent. "You're gonna make a mess outta me, aren't you?"

You've never heard him sound so excited before. The tremble in his voice is enough to keel you over, sending you toppling down into an inescapable abyss where his eyes brand your flesh, and his mouth devours you whole.

Your hands fall to his shoulders. The plea you utter is painted in the colour of desperation, and it makes his eyes flutter again, makes them spume with that white-hot desire, that dark promise of how much he's going to ruin you.

He takes one last breath, nose pushed against the bottom of your mound, as close to your pussy as he can get, and he moves.

One of the things you've never really understood was how a man so massive managed to move the way he did. Agile, lithe. Like his body was elastic. Liquid.

He's on the floor, mask pulled up high until his nose and mouth are bared to you, and then he's beckoning you forward with a crook of his finger. His eyes burn like wildfires when you tremble down beside him–all of your honed, practised grace dissolving into nothing with just a flick of his too-red tongue wetting his lips for you.

You fumble, pussy clenching with the thought of having his mouth on you–soon, so soon; and yet, not nearly quick enough–and settle before him, kneeling by his head.

"C'mon," he snarls, the bite in his tone blistering.

It has you whimpering, cunt spasming at the urgency, the impatience, in your once-cold leader. Distant, unshakable. You've never seen him so eager, nearly driven mad by the frustration of not already having your weeping slit on him, the taste of you on his tongue.

You've never sat on someone's face before. When you tell him this, his eyes shudder, blunt teeth digging into his lower lip to keep the filthy groan from rolling out.

You can't say shit like that, he grouses, his hands gripping your hip, pulling you closer.

He helps you settle over him, thighs spread over his head, ass resting on his chest.

His eyes are glued to your cunt as it opens up for him.

There is a war raging inside of you, one that taints the room with the scent of ichor. It fuels you, makes you bite your lip, coy and playful, and notch your knees further apart until you're bared, fully, to him. Fingers slipping over the hem of your shirt, hiking it up so he can see all of you. Teeth sink into the end of it, keeping it up as your hands drop–one to your covered nipple, the other to your soaked pussy. Two fingers glide over your mound, your clit sitting in the V. You spread them slowly, splitting your folds apart.

Your cunt pulses with the vibrations of his chest as he groans again, low and deep, at the sight of you spread out before him. A breath away from his lips.

It feels like a battle when his hand grips your flesh until it bubbles between his fingers. You'll be bruised when he's finished–a mosaic of black and blue and purple and yellow; a palette startlingly similar to his own–and it's the notion of his mark on your body, the proof of that his indomitable man, this untouchable entity, was between your thighs, gazing at you as if he wanted nothing more than the pink folds of your swollen slit on his tongue.

You shiver. Pleasure stroking through your body as your knuckles graze your clit.

You're not submissive to anyone–can't afford to be in this world–and you feel the swell of that intoxicating confidence return to you, the incipient spume of what made them liken you to an apex predator, one who hunted human men for sport pooling inside of you.

Does he see it when his lids lift, eyes seeking yours instantly. Does he read in the list of your head? The flutter of your lashes. You drop your shirt. Your hand falls to the side of his face, the brush of his skin on your fingertips somehow more intimate than this. He's warm. Feverish. You burn, too.

"Is my seat ready?" You purr, belly filling with victory when his eyes twitch, lowering back to your aching cunt.

"Always," he grunts, a soft sound polluting the word with the noxious promise of more.

You shudder, panting, now as you rock forward onto your knees, arched over his mouth.

Ghost's hands settle on the outside of your spread thighs, fingers gripping your flesh. He tugs, harsh and demanding, and you quickly settle, body turning into malleable polymer in his burning hands. He manoeuvres you until your pussy is right where he wants it, eyes flickering up, catching your glossy gaze. He holds it, lashes fluttering as he inhales, deep and long, and then breathes it out through his mouth, warm breath ghosting over your exposed, slick cunt.

"Well?" He drawls, the word nearly shredded and raw when it slips out of his throat. "You gonna take your seat, pet?"

You shudder again, shoulders tensing so tight, it aches. Pet. Pet. Pet. Fuck –

"Yeah," it's a whisper, a gasp. Needy and quivering.

Your hand moves from his face, fingers chilled without his warm skin against them, and you settle it on the desk beside you, muscles in your thighs straining as you slowly position your sopping wet cunt over your Lieutenant's waiting mouth.

His lips brush the seam of your pussy, and the groan he lets out rumbles over your flesh. Liquid pleasure blooms. He hasn't even touched you yet, and you're already aching for release. Already inching toward that precipice.

When you're close enough, he pulls; glueing you to his mouth. He wastes no time before diving in.

His tongue laves over your drenched folds, dipping inside your swollen pussy to dance over your aching clit, your throbbing hole. You press your wrist to your mouth, biting down hard to stifle the moans that threaten to spill out–somehow more taboo than having your Lieutenant eating your pussy out like he's starved for it.

Pain blooms on the fat of your ass cheek, your surprised gasp swallowing the sound of his hand smacking your flesh.

"I want to hear you," he growls into your cunt, wrecked and drunk off your taste. His words are slurred, accent thick and heavy. Almost incoherent.

His eyes are pits. Little black holes. The pupil completely eclipsed his irises. Desire spumes.

When you pull your hand away, settling it on the corner of the desk instead, he flashes his approval, and then buries his face back into you. His tongue is demanding as it licks over your folds, circling your throbbing clit.

Liquid pleasure seeps from the tip of his tongue to the base of your spine, where it pools into a molten puddle of bliss. It's good. No, it's better than that. It's –

Your head drops back, hips rutting into his mouth, chasing that euphoria his tongue brings when it toys with your flesh, then slips down, pushing into your drenched, fluttering hole. He fucks you with just the tip, groaning when your hips cant into his face, smearing your wetness all over his chin, jaws. He'll be drenched in your slick by the time this is over.

He's still your superior. Still your boss, technically, but fuck –

Your hand drops from the desk, sliding into the fabric of his mask until a fistful sits in your grasp. A tug makes his eyes snap open, darting up to meet yours. Is this okay? you want to ask, but the question is swallowed by the filthy groan he lets out into your cunt when you pull a little harder, accidentally snatching the hair beneath.

It's good, then. You pull a little more. His mouth drops, panting into you.

You whine when he stops, hips bucking into his mouth. "Please, please, don't stop–"

"Fuck, Princess," he slurs. "That's it. Ride my face, c'mon."

You're a good soldier. So, so good. You could never deny a command from your superior officer.

It's clumsy at first–hesitant. A slow roll of your hips, too afraid of smothering your Lieutenant, and having to fess up to being the one to murder him with your cunt keeps you from pushing your core into his face, taking your pleasure. You want to, though. Want to so bad your thighs quiver with the effort of holding back.

The room is filled with the sticky slick sounds of your sopping centre dragging over his eager mouth. Breathless pants spill from your throat at the obscene pleasure that burrows into your core.

And his groans.

God, his noises are enough to make you whimper. Filthy growls into your aching pussy as he eats you up, as if he can't get enough of your taste. As if he's parched and your wetness is the first drink he'd had in years.

It rumbles through the slick, softness of his tongue, and straight into your clit. The vibrations make your head numb, fuzzy, until you're stupid off the way he devours you whole.

"Fuckin' hell," he breathes into you–voice reverent as his molten tongue slips inside again, as if he can't get enough of it. "Gimme this pretty lil'pussy. C'mon… yeah, that's it…"

His voice is muffled when your hips rock faster against him, but the praise in his tenor has you shamelessly bucking into his mouth, against his tongue. The sounds wrenched from your throat are wonton, and needy, a breathless plea for more. Fuck, so much more –

His tongue parts your folds, gliding through the drenched slick until he's pressing the tip into your aching hole, splitting you apart. It pushes into you–quick flicks, a pistoning motion; a facsimile of what you want his cock to do to you so badly. It has you keening. Has you riding his face, unbothered whether or not he suffocates between your thighs so long as he keeps doing what he's doing with that sinful fucking tongue that has you singing, has your eyes rolling back in your head, reaching so far you can see the cosmos.

It's a deep, toe-curling pleasure. The dangerous kind–the one that teases, that makes dark promises against your core about how badly it'll mess you up, get you hooked on the taste of it, and then absolutely delivers. The kind of bliss that has your stomach clenching, roiling with molten heat that happens too fast, you barely have enough time to warn him before you're begging for it, whining for the thickness of his tongue inside of your throbbing cunt.

His fingers bruise your thighs when they grip your flesh between his fingers, dragging your puffy, drenched pussy over his mouth to suckle on your aching clit until Nirvana flashes behind your eyelids. A whiteout so divine, you nearly slip into him when your knees give out.

His responding grunt sends pleasure blistering through your core when you lose yourself in the rasp of his tongue sweeping over your weeping slit.

Ghost's hand leaves your thigh as you tremble through the shockwaves sputtering out, leaking molten bliss through each synapse, each nerve, until you're moaning, shameless and desperate with the release that bludgeons through you.

The world dissolves into white noise. The buzz of it rings in your head as you break apart, ground, once more, down to atoms and molecules that burst with the undulating wave of molten euphoria that drags over you.

The white static in your head fades in a gradual ebb and flow as the world slowly pieces itself back together again.

His mouth hasn't stopped.

He rides you through it all, tongue laving over you as you clench around nothing but the phantom thought of how good his cock would feel inside of your soft, fluttering walls.

You pant, heaving for air, and grip the edge of the desk tight when his insistent licks become too much.

"Simon," you whine, but he doesn't stop. He doesn't slow.

His tongue drags through your folds, thrusting back into you. You clench around the thick muscle, whimpering as whips of pleasure spark through your core once more.

It's too much, too intense; the pleasure is battered into you until you're forced to accept it, forced to take the bliss he flicks into you with a quivering gasp, and trembling thighs.

He's not done with you. The taste wasn't enough.

You lean back, almost desperate to get away from that greedy mouth that consumes you, but the slick sound from behind you makes you pause.

Pleasure rolls through you again; a molten pulse of agonising want, pulling taut and snapping against you like a rubber band.

He's touching himself.

To the taste of you. To the feeling of your pussy drenching his face.

Fuck. Fuck –

You peer over your shoulder, whimpering when you catch sight of his furious strokes over his hard, weeping cock. The tip is flushed blood-red, leaking spend all over the mushroomed head, and down the long, thick length of him. Your thighs snap together, knees pressed taut to his ears.

He grunts into you but doesn't stop. Doesn't slow down. His tongue fucks into you at the same pace as his almost brutal strokes. Thick prepend puddles around the base of him, soaking his trousers, his hands. His fist.

"Fuck, Simon," you purr, too blissed, too far gone, to think properly. "You're so big." You grind down against him, eyes fixed on his hand. "I want you inside me. I want you fuck my pussy with your fat cock–"

He makes noises against you that sound like a wounded animal–low bellows into your swollen lips, groans of a starving man–and his relentless devouring of your cunt has your belly fluttering with the lashing of pleasure spooling in your core. It's everything–the hungry sounds he makes as he consumes your taste; the furious, almost desperate way he fists his throbbing cock in his hand, hips jerking into the tight seal of his palm as if he was imagining how the clutch of you would feel around him.

He could have taken his pleasure in reciprocity. Had you on your knees, sucking him off until he came down your throat. He could have bent you over the desk, and fucked into you like he so clearly wants.

He could've had you any way he wanted; he put you in any position he desired, and you would have gone willingly, eagerly.

But he doesn't.

His mouth glues to you like he can't get enough, like he doesn't want to stop, and he takes his pleasure from the taste of you alone.

It's –

It's so agonisingly hot.

The mask is rough between your fingers when you grip it tight, rolling your hips against his mouth–a tease of how you would ride him if he let you–and the sight of him, hips battering into his hand when you move, sinful groans whispered into your slit, sends you plunging into those depths once more.

It takes you by surprise: the orgasm is ripped from you, stolen by the sight of his cock twitching, spitting out ropes of cum all over his hand, his stomach.

You keen, toes curling as he squeezes every last drop out, panting into you as he rides himself through it, nose pressed taut to your raw clit, swollen and so sensitive it hurts.

He grounds out your name, a wrecked whisper into your pulsing slit, and the sound of it has your head dropping, gaze cresting down to gaze at him.

Simon's eyes are lidded. Heavy. All black. Endlessly so. They flicker up, as if he can feel your stare, and the glazing of pleasure in those slate-grey eyes makes you lose your footing once more, hurtling over the edge of a precipice too steep to climb out of.

A chill grazes your spine. Fuck. You're fucked. You're absolutely, utterly, irrevocably fucked.

He's a mess, absolutely drenched. Slick with your wetness, and covered in his own cum.

You hate how enticing he looks.

You sit on the ground, knees pressed together, watching him as he cleans up, wiping his hand on his shirt, and then dragging the hem up to his mouth.

The muscles in his thick abdomen make you squeeze your thighs together, a low throb brimming up at the sight of his inked, bulky flesh. Fuck. He's good-looking. Maybe. You only saw a peak of his face. A glimpse of his chest. But God, it's enough.

He could be a troglodyte under there, with just a handsome chin, and full pink lips, a long, curved nose, and you wouldn't care.

You'd gladly sit on his ugly mug any day.

He releases the bottom of his filthy shirt, and tugs the ends of his mask down. You wonder if he still smells you under there. If it whets his appetite as much as the thought of it does yours.

There are things you want to say, questions you want to ask, but they slip, reluctant, and–for the first time since Porthmadog– fearfully into the recesses that broke open when you'd said those stupid words. When you came face to face with the hideousness of wanting a man who wasn't allowed to want you back.

Simon– Ghost, now; Lieutenant–is an amalgamation of every bad decision. He's wrong and off-limits personified.

It's not that he's a bad man. Far from it. If there were any good men left in this world, then he was undoubtedly one of them.

But he's an illicit drink. Ambrosia. A forbidden elixir.

He's a man you're not allowed to want—a man you're not allowed to touch, to covet, to need.

It's all moot. Rendered out into ashes, dust. You can't have him.

You turn away when he straightens out. Ghost has the uncanny ability to read you unlike anyone else. He'll see this moment of weakness when your defences are in shambles.

"Y'alright?"

Your chest thunders at the rawness in his voice. "Y-yeah…"

"Good," he murmurs, hands falling to his sides, shoulders straight.

You pull yourself together. Try to, anyway, but it's hard when he's staring at your sticky thighs when you shakily stand up, and wrench your pants on.

"Hey," he calls, softer than you'd ever heard him speak. It makes you tense; the blistering sting of rejection is already there in the periphery.

"Yeah?"

He's quiet for a moment, and you risk a peek over your shoulder. It's –

Well.

It's fleeting. There for a second, and then gone the next. Barely a flicker. Had you not spent a whole year in the desert with him dodging scorpions, and men with machine guns and a lust for blood, you might have missed it.

But it was there. You saw it in passing.

His resolve seals over the fissure. His eyes are blown black and distant.

"We move out tomorrow."

You respect the fact that he doesn't press, doesn't push. He doesn't ask if you're good, if you're okay. Doesn't try to hash things out when you have death looming over you in a few short hours. He compartmentalises. Draws a thick delineation in the sand, and picks a side. Instant. Effortless.

Right.

Your fist quivers. You shove it in the pocket of your trousers.

When you look up, the gleaming gaze of a crocodile lurking in the murky waters stares back.

"Roger that, Lieutenant."

And you leave. It's simple. Effortless.

(Another hole in the veneer. Nothing leaks out.)

A week later, and the world around you is at peace once more. Mission: successful.

You keep your feelings a tightly guarded secret, and tuck them inside your ribs for safekeeping, unwilling to let them go quite yet.

You're a dutiful soldier. A professional. You look him in the eye, and don't flinch. You face the men around you, and pretend you don't know what Ghost sounds like when he grunts your name in pleasure. He, in turn, acts as if his breath doesn't carry the taste of you. As if you don't linger behind his front teeth; piquant and damning.

It's a dance.

The choreography is new, but the rhythm is the same. You follow the beats, and let him lead you around the ballroom until the cracks inside have been plastered over. Something normal settles–or, rather: something as close to normal as you can get when you can still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin.

Soap looks on with something a bit too keen in his eyes, but mercifully says nothing at all. He isn't the type to pry–least of all when it comes to Ghost.

The others pick at it like a scab, watching it peel and bleed for their amusement. To them, nothing happened. You got reamed out, reprimanded, and that's all. A slip of the tongue; a joke gone too far. It's nothing new. Stuck in a foreign country with men trying to kill you at every corner, tempers fly. Fists, too.

When the dust settles, all is forgotten. New again.

They hear you call out to Ghost over the comm, and when he responds back–tone pinched and gruff like it always is–they know it's done. Dealt with.

Sometimes, they mock you.

Never in front of him, of course: not when the last man to do so, tapping his chin with a toothy grin, and a singsong, gotta seat for you right here, doll falling from his lips, was met with the brunt of his Lieutenant's anger. Scathing words that slash, deadly and sharp, pointed enough to vivisect a man clean through the gut.

"I hope you have a brain in your skull to use instead of just that tiny pecker in your trousers, because if that's the only one you got, I think it's safe to say we're all fucked, aren't we?"

And with that, it's over. Done.

The world goes back to shades of espionage and counterterrorism. Games of poker between putting a bullet in a man's head. A drink after cutting the throat of a shady politician. Drenched in blood. Dressed in metals.

When the mission finishes, you find yourself staring at your bags already packed up in the corner, and wonder if you'll ever unpack them one day.

(You wonder if he ever will, either.)

It's Soap who knocks on the door. "Wheels up in twenty."

"Roger."

Soap doesn't usually linger, but today he hesitates.

You lift your chin and meet his pinched expression.

"Alright, bonnie?"

The bags mock you. Filled to the brim with things that should be a necessity, but haven't been used in years. It's bursting. Chock full. Pushed to its mettle. And yet, decidedly empty at the same time.

A picture of what you do, what you are.

Your head lists to the side. "I think so."

His nod, too, is sharp and deep. A soldier, a brother in arms.

"Hey… you, uh… what did you mean by–um." You falter. It's your turn to hesitate.

"What?"

"Before, you know… with Ghost."

The confusion slips deftly into understanding. And then a distinct grimace. "Why?"

"Curious, is all."

There is a weight in his stare, too, but it's different from your Lieutenant's. Less intense. Invasive. Soap looks at you like you're an idiot. A wet-behind-the-ears rookie nursing a crush on the one man who is firmly off-limits. And really, that's what you are, in a sense.

In that single degree of separation, you think you find the substance you were looking for all along. You think it's been there the whole time. Mocking you like the bags in the corner. Untouched. Unnoticed. Waiting.

You suck in a breath at the thought.

It's not enough. Not yet. You need to know–

You do what you’re good at. You gather the intel.

Soap shakes his head. An imperceptible movement, almost missed.

But you catch it.

"Bonnie," he says, heavy. His shoulder sags against the door frame. Then he sighs. Shakes his head. "There are very few people out there that can distract him from a task. From a mission."

Your heart is in your throat, featherlight. The wings of a small bird preening its plumage.

Your breath shudders out of you.

Mission, you think–

"Better know what you're gettin' into."

You smile, wide and bright. Bigger than any you'd carried with you in Porthmadog. "I think I do."

He always sits alone on the plane unless he needs to go over the game plan, or discuss positions with others. Head always turned. Eyes shuttered, fixed out the window.

He never looks up. Never moves.

You think about that thing you saw. The vague glimmer in his eyes. It's the bolstering confidence you need, the one that carries you.

What good is a man if he has nothing to lose? It propels you forward–a mantra, a gospel–and you use it, now, in this sleepy jet that reeks of men, gunpowder, and sweat. They're all riding high on the success of a victory–one with no casualties on your side: a rarity–and most of them are out cold, or blubbering over finally going home to their family.

It's an earned break. Deserved.

You don't know what to do with it. Where to go. Home hadn't felt like home since you sunk your palms into the pavement, and stained the gravel with your blood. Years on the move, living in the shadow, has reduced the idea to a whim, an evanescent thing. You don't quite mourn its loss, but you miss the compunction that used to sit low in your belly when you turned your back to the place, and shouldered your duffle bag.

Now, it's just another city on the list of many.

His head lifts when you approach. Your heart stammers, featherlight, and heavy as a paperweight.

You find his eyes over the pews that separate you.

Slate. Charcoal. Black holes.

You wonder if he'll tear you apart if you get too close.

Your fingers ache to find out.

"Rookie," he grouses, hoarse from the meagre sleep the night prior. It's a bland acknowledgement in itself, but his look alone belies the nonchalance in his greeting. There's a question there.

You have one, too.

The sun crests over the plane when it rises, drenching him in ochre. Your smile feels a little too full and a touch too wobbly, when it quirks on your lips.

His shoulders ease. Eyes drop, lidded and heavy. Unguarded, disarmed, for the first time in years.

You think if he could, he'd be smiling, too.

"Is this seat taken?"

#simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #myfics #Simon Ghost Riley

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alexthetrashyracoon · 3 months

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CW// None aside from the occasional cursing and the mistakes I made during writing. They come in pairs now, like sunflower seeds and enjoy the sun once in a while, just let them out.

Likes/Shares/Whatever you want to do with my writing aside from copying it (not that any of this is worth copying). Everything is very much appreciated by me <3

You should think that someone like Simon Riley has patience, not just a small amount but damn, this man should be the most patient guy on the planet. He was a trained sniper after all, it was his job to lay in one place for long without doing much. Right?

Ha, very, very, very wrong.

You learned that early in your relationship with him.

Simon Riley was everything but patient.

He wasn’t aggressive or anything with you, god forbid, he would never put his hands on you, you’re his reason to live, love, laugh.

But let this man out into the open, let Simon get into a car with the knowledge he has to be somewhere in time, it doesn’t matter if he has ten minute to be there or three hours, he turns his professional patience into some kind of road rage. Simon never did anything that could get anyone into danger, he was very responsible but he grumbled and complained a lot.

You always have the best time of your life, listening to him complaining about every single driver aside from him winning their drivers licenses in the lottery or getting it from the back of a cereal box.

He follows the traffic rules to a T, not wanting to put you, or anyone else in that matter, in danger even if he all he wanted to do was to push his foot down on the gas all the way through and just race off to your appointment.

“All of them, bloody stupid as hell. They all deserve to get send back into driving school.” He grunts and rolls his eyes at a young couple in the car next to them, that is more interested in making out than driving.

“You know, Simon.” You grin at him while scrolling through your social medias and switching the radio to something that soothes even Simon’s impatient nerves, “This whole traffic jam thing has a good thing to it.”

“And what would that be, darling?” He raises a brow before reaching for the pack of cigarettes in the middle console, pulling one out and lighting it with one hand, quickly putting the window down you didn’t drown in the smoke.

“Since you insisted on being overly early to our date night, now we’ll be right on time for it and won’t have to freeze our asses off, waiting for our table to be ready.” You grin and pat his hand on the joystick.

He remains quiet for a second before laughing softly and shaking his head. “Only you see the good thing in a damn traffic jam, darling. Good to know.”

And just as promised you made it to the restaurant right on time, well, you had a minute or two to spare but thanks to the bad traffic on the way there you wouldn’t freeze.

Oh and, don’t let Simon order food in.

He’s like a dog, sitting at the window, waiting for the poor delivery guy to show up on your front porch.

But otherwise, when it came to you, he had more patience than any other person on this planet and you love him for it. And his impatience.

And yeah, I headcanon Simon Riley as a very responsible drive, aside from his impatience. The driving scene we had in MW2 (don’t know about MW3, haven’t played it nor will I ever do so) is a stress reaction in my head at least, you do you of course, if I were being hunted by my former allies, I too would probably not be very caring about rules and regulations on the streets. Plus, if my mate were bleeding from a shot wound, I would make sure to be as fast as possible to get him the medical attention he needs.

#cod x reader #cod x gn!reader #cod x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #alex writes #fanfic

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obislittleone · 4 months

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The Winner Takes It All

Episode 4

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of bullying, Finnick being a warning again (for good reasons tho) Mentions of drowning, or fears of water. Mild mention of foreseeing death.

Chapter Summary: It's time to make allies. Being from a career district makes it a bit easier, at least it does if you don't say a word.

Word Count: 5.0k

Imagine being afraid of swimming pools lmaooo couldn't be me *internalizes my eight year old self's irrational fear of sharks in swimming pools*

“You climb a lot of ropes in four?” Rodey asked, but you shook your head, laughing it off. The group was impressed, or they seemed to be. The only odd one out was Estelle, still reeling from her failure to do what you had done. The others continued to take turns, the boys scaling the rope much quicker due to their upper body advantages. They still slowed eventually, but all of them hit the buzzer.

Four days left.

In those four days, you would need to learn to swim, get your stutter under control, and convince the capitol that you were worthy of the sponsors they so generously endowed the tributes with.

The day after the parade was slow. An introduction of sorts to the tribute center, and the other tributes. This is also very important, Finnick had said in the morning. A chance to make allies.

You weren’t sure who would actually take you as an ally, but from what he told you, the careers stick together.

“W-we aren’t careers,” you mumbled to Lukas when he brought it up to you in a whisper. You looked around, standing as tall as you possibly can, not giving anyone a reason to think you’re afraid of them.

“Finnick said it doesn’t matter. As long as we can show them what we bring to the table, they’ll take us.”

So, that means districts one and two. The tributes are a fine group this year, all four are volunteers, eighteen years of age and strong in body. The female tributes look far more lethal than even the boys do. They have an anger in their eyes that is not easily missed.

The two of you stop walking when you reach one of the outdoor preparation stations. You can build a fire, and you can pitch a temporary shelter… but there’s nothing wrong with refreshing your memory. So, while you sit, you look around to see what the others are doing, trying to gauge an impression of each of them. What is their physicality? How smart are they? Do they have other skills outside of wielding a weapon?

It seems that Finnick was right about the other careers, they mostly practice what they are already good at, mainly just to intimidate those they see as their prey. It’s a horrible thing, and yet, you can’t help but think it’s a good idea. The more tributes that would rather stay away from you, the better. Of course, you figure, the reasoning for always keeping the careers together is somewhat like that, too. Keep the other tributes out in the elements long enough to die off, then the careers have a better shot at winning. It’s a rigged system, but it gives you a chance.

“It looks like a fire to me,” Lukas said, his cheery smile of accomplishment drawing your eyes back from around the room. He blew on the wood a bit more, getting the embers to spark to life.

You playfully warmed yourself against it, acting as if you were shivering in the coldness of this warehouse-like setting.

“It f-feels like a fire t-to me,” you joked, standing up afterwards and giving him a hand up. You both quickly extinguished the flames on the ground, and started walking again. “Wish they had a l-lake, could’ve t-taught me how to fish.”

“Sorry, sweetheart… but it takes years to learn to fish as well as me.”

“I b-believe it.”

Coming up on another station surrounded by careers, you put on a fake smile, your shoulders back and your mouth closed shut to keep your confidence looming.

“The sea creatures decided to join us,” the male tribute from two said. He was seemingly laid back, his relaxed smile and light-hearted joke had made you feel as though he could be trusted as an ally. He didn’t seem to harbor a secret ill-will towards you both as tributes. He probably firmly believed in the careers as allies rule, however unspoken it was.

Lukas nodded, a small laugh escaping from both of you. “Didn’t wanna miss out on this party, it seems really interesting,” he replied, pointing up in front of him at the rope hanging from the ceiling, one of the female tributes trying her hardest to reach the top. None of the other female tributes had done so yet, but she was a career, and was very motivated.

“Well, it would be if Estelle would ever reach the top!” The female tribute from two responded this time, her chuckle filling her words as they were shouted towards the other female career.

“You’re just mad you didn’t make it up,” the male tribute said, nudging her in the arm. She gave him a playful look, and immediately, you understood they were close. Just like you and Lukas. He turned back to you both and offered a hand to shake for each of you. “I’m Copelin, this is Freeda, that’s Rodey, and up there is Estelle.”

“Nice,” Lukas reached out first to shake the other two’s hands, you followed after with a smile. “I’m Lukas, this is Mercedes.”

The group nodded back to you and looked back up to Estelle, but Rodey seemed stuck on you for a minute.

“I saw you at the parade,” he tilted his head, remembering just exactly what you were wearing. “You had that swimsuit on, right?”

You nodded again, an embarrassed laugh falling from your lips. Well, you thought, at least I made an impression.

“It was hot,” he winked, getting a small shove from Copelin as a result.

At that you ducked your head to hide the redness in your cheeks. He seemed like he might have been kidding, but maybe he wasn’t. You did, after all, have the most revealing outfit at the parade. It was bound to happen that comments like these would fly about. You weren’t so sure you minded it anymore.

Rodey was still staring at you when you looked back up. He was cute, nice and tall, with wispy blonde hair… He had pretty hazel eyes, too.

You hadn’t looked away from one another, completely ignoring the conversation happening amongst your new colleagues. They kept on, ranting about, until Estelle’s sudden drop to the ground interrupted. She’d let go maybe ten feet above ground, catching herself in a squat on her feet. She seemed angry, and the reasoning lied in the conversation you missed.

“Told you so,” Copelin shook his head, hands on his hips and a slanted look on his face.

Estelle turned to face the group with a fire in her eyes. “You know damn well that you’re the reason my hand still hurts.”

He whistled low, catching her death glare towards him with a smirk of his own. She rolled her eyes then fell in line with the group.

“Why don’t you go then, huh? Show us all how it’s done,” she went beside him and shoved, hearing the group chuckle a bit when she used enough force to make him stutter step over his own toes.

“Nuh uh, rules are still ladies first.”

“And we went,” she argued, her anger falling off a little and turning more into a salty annoyance.

“Got one more,” Rodey nodded over to you, and you hesitated, feeling all eyes now shifting to your form, staying still and trying to avoid confrontation by all means. You pointed to yourself and asked with only your eyes if they were meaning you, and of course they were… you were just stalling. Your hands did rather good with rope, having woven several nets, and carried several boxes in your career as a loader. Your calloused and worn hands were practically made for this sort of thing, however stupid it was. Maybe this could give you a leg up on some of the competition.

“You gonna go?” Freeda asked encouragingly, while Estelle stomped her foot impatiently on her other side.

You took a deep breath and started climbing, the bottom several feet being an easy obstacle to overtake. The shoes you wore made it a bit harder to grip the rope between your feet, but you replied mostly on your hands and arms, trying to have them carry you to the top. It was about the upper middle of the rope when the burning started to settle in, the redness of your palms spreading to the sides of your hands for you to see. Still, you didn’t give up, you just went slower, trying to ignore the calls from the ground. They were mostly just taunts from the boys, anyway. You were only a few feet from the top when you had to pause, taking deep breaths and trying not to let go of the rope entirely. You wrapped your legs around the rope, letting go with one hand at a time in order to give them a shake into the air.

“She’s not gonna make it,” Copelin mumbled, looking up at how close you were, but how much you were struggling. You had maybe five feet to go, but you were stuck.

“Wanna bet?” Lukas looked to the boy beside him with a smirk, fully knowing your capabilities, but maybe overestimating you, even just for the sake of it. He didn’t want anyone here to think that there was something you could not do. He was going to be your greatest ally in hiding your secret.

“Given that you know her better, not really.”

You sighed, realizing that if you didn’t at least try to make it past this point, you’d be a quitter. Who cares if you fall? You’re gonna die in a few days, anyway… might as well take a risk and speed up the process.

You reached up again, pulling with all your might, reaching one hand in front of the other and finally pushing with your feet to hit the small buzzer implanted to the ceiling. You clung back to the rope, starting to climb down, sliding most of the way due to the muscle exhaustion you just induced. When you hit the ground, they all seemed to be in agreement on something, but you couldn’t possibly know what it was.

The others continued to take turns, the boys scaling the rope much quicker due to their upper body advantages. They still slowed eventually, but all of them hit the buzzer.

You watched on, trying to listen in on what each of them said while doing so. You were completely oblivious to the holes that Estelle was burning into your head with her stare. She was the district one female. She was the pick of the litter. She volunteered, and had been hoisted to the favorites list as soon as she did… but then at the parade yesterday. You outshined her… and today, you proved you were stronger. You were better. You had a more likely chance to receive sponsors, and you were more likely to win over another female tribute. And given that the boy from her district had taken a liking to you, she doubted she could convince him to off you for her. And the boy from four… he looked like he’d do nearly anything to protect you. It wasn’t fair. She was supposed to be the top pick… but here you came. Not even volunteering, just having been reaped from the crowd. You’d never spoken a word to her, or anyone else in the group for that matter, and she already hated you more than anyone ever had. The worst part? You are technically a career district, so she has to pretend to like you. She has to ally with you and act like you don’t bother her to immense lengths. She has to make camp with you, share weapons with you, and kill others before getting to kill you. And that’s really all she’s thinking about right now. Killing you.

The sparring mats were constantly filled, because obviously, combat training was the most desired by the other districts. The ones who are not trained or prepared otherwise. They need it the most, want to learn it the most.

You found yourself there at the end of the day, waiting in line on the female tribute mat. Two others went at it, a girl from eight and a girl from eleven. They both seemed like they had an idea of what they were doing, but they both were equal in strength, and didn’t seem to be making any ground in any attack they faced. Finally, the girl from eleven had sneakily grabbed onto the ankle of the other while she was bent down, and pushed with all her might to take her down. She bashed her elbow into the side of her opponent, placing the strike and winning the match. The attendant of the mat awarded eleven the victory, and then it was your turn to step onto the mat.

It was a girl from seven, and you stood her down, trying to have the confidence from before flow through your veins. She looked strong, and her shoulders squared up, her hands raising in defense. You copied her movements, but didn’t attack first. She had expected you to, but you didn’t really know what you were doing. You’d not been trained for this.

After waiting long enough, she came at you, watching you back up, she was confused… you were a career, weren’t you? Why did you back away? She tried it again, and you stood your ground this time, but had been engaged. She wrapped her arms around your middle, trying to use her own weight to drag you down. You didn’t sink, but instead pushed back, your strength easily taking her over, especially since she wasn’t expecting it. You had her down, but you technically had to make a strike for it to count as a win. You raised a fist, aiming towards her chest, but then stopped. What were you doing? You’d never hurt someone like this before… You promised yourself you weren’t going to change, but here you were, the circumstances completely unnecessary, and you’re about to punch a girl that’s trapped beneath you. You haven’t even set foot in that arena and already you’re different from the nonviolent and innocent girl you were before you got on that train. You’ll be completely corrupted by the time the first canon goes off if you don’t stop yourself.

So you stop yourself.

You get up off of her, and help her up, not caring if a victory is awarded or not. This isn’t the games. And you’re not here to make enemies. She doesn’t say a word, she just nods to you and walks away. You do the same, running off to find Lukas and the rest of the careers. As it would happen, they weren’t far.

Surrounding the corner of the mat, they had been watching you, arms crossed as they listened to the words of Estelle. You can’t understand what it is, but she seems to not enjoy anyone’s company, and you don’t think she’s fond of you at all. You don’t blame her for being bitter, this whole thing is a cause to be bitter, but you wished she did a better job at hiding it like the rest of you. Besides, she’s district one, wasn’t she supposed to like these games? Wasn’t she supposed to be thriving in her element?

“Mercedes Blythe,” she scoffed, looking at the others and chuckling before turning back to you with a mocking expression. “More like Mercy Blythe.”

The others chuckled a bit, but only because they assumed it was a joke. They had all been in a joking mood, so to have anything break that was not predicted.

“No real harm done until the arena, I respect it,” Copelin said, reaching his fist towards you for you to bump yours against it. You did sheepishly, ducking your head as you stepped off the mat and into the group.

“She’s probably just hiding her secret skills,” Rodey nudged you, his smile a nice contrast from the sneer you’d received from Estelle. “Ain’t that right, Mercy?”

“She’s got more to her than meets the eye,” Lukas responded on your behalf, just like he’s done all day.

It’s common knowledge by now that you don’t like to speak, whatever the reason is, they don’t really dwell on it. They just ignore that fact and have a good time anyway. The careers seem to be the only ones enjoying themselves, as it were. They feel the most prepared, they sometimes forget they’re here to die.

Maybe that’s why they’re happier. They know that they have done everything in their own power to prepare themselves, so they won’t waste their last days sulking.

“I think it’s time to wrap up,” Freeda notices the attendants ushering tributes away from certain stations, letting the lines finish up before closing the facility. Since you all are standing around, you make your way to the exit, letting the woman with a tablet check you all out.

The careers go their separate ways, and you sigh in relief after turning down a hall.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said, even though he was probably more tired and worn than you were. You both had visited nearly every station you could, working on your strengths and weaknesses alike, in order to gain the upper hand. Finnick’s advice would pay off, but it would cost you both a sore muscle or two. “You did good.”

“Thanks,” you were happy that no one had found out about your stutter yet. You figured that was a step for another day of training. Maybe it would even be a good idea to hold off until it was absolutely necessary. Like the interviews. Those would be coming up soon. You didn’t even want to think about those. “A-and also, for helping m-me talk.”

He knew what you meant, Thank you, Lukas… for being my voice when I’m so scared to use my own.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Dinner was short, and neither Finnick nor Arbin bothered to show up. Mags signed an excuse to you, about them taking care of some things, but it was far too vague to be believable. You didn’t fuss about it, going upstairs after and looking to get ready for bed. They had set out a beautiful pair of silken pajamas for you on the bed, the fabric being an icy blue in color. It nearly matched the light color of the walls in your room.

You were about to change when came a knock on the door.

“C-come in.”

And when the door opened, Arbin let himself in, a sneaky smile on his face.

“Hello, dearest,” he waltzed in, holding something of a black fabric in his hands. “I bring good news. We may have found a solution to your swimming debacle.”

He held out to you a black one piece swimsuit and clapped his hands.

“As it turns out, it’s not against the rules for a mentor to privately book the pool area.”

You sighed. You were so tired. Perhaps this would have been a better idea tomorrow… but tomorrow is testing day. You suppose that tonight is as good a night as any to try and get into the water.

You gently took the material from him, thanking him under your breath before kicking off your shoes.

“Once you’ve changed, go into the west wing pool on the first floor. Finnick is waiting for you,” he finished his information ramble and bid you goodnight, giving a smile and a nod before leaving and closing your door.

You fell back onto your bed in exasperation before doing as he said.

It was colder at night, and the swimsuit made it more evident. You had your arms around yourself as you searched the first floor, careful not to make your way into the district one housing. You didn’t want to accidentally run into Estelle and have her cut off your head prematurely.

When you found the pool, you relaxed a bit, or at least you did until you turned the corner. Your steps slowed when you saw the water. The shallow end read four feet, and the deep end read twelve.

He’d already been in the water, doing laps as he waited for you to come down. The splashing and sloshing of the water imitated small waves, and it scared you. He wouldn’t let you drown, you know that, but you didn’t trust yourself to even step into the pool. It was too intimidating, and every memory came rushing back, trying to hold you from taking another step… but then he appeared at the edge of the pool, breaking you out of your trance. He leaned up on his elbows, holding himself on the concrete to look at you, scared as hell. His eyes were calming though, the sea green and the long wet lashes they peered through.

He shook his head to rid himself of some of the water, looking back to you and this time speaking.

“You coming in?”

You hadn’t dropped your arms from their place of security around your body. It was far too alarming to even be in a room with this much open water.

“I-I don’t want t-to.”

“Too bad,” he hoisted himself up and out of the pool, taking a step towards you, only for you to take two steps back. “Do you trust me?”

“I would s-say yes, but I t-think it’s a trap.”

He rolled his eyes, holding a hand out to you. You looked at him honestly, showing your distrust but also sheer anxiety. He still held it out, and would likely not drop it until you took it.

“I won’t let anything bad happen, I swear.” His eyes told the truth, and so did his words. He’s your mentor, he’s trying to help you.

“Okay,” you took his hand, letting him drag you closer to the water. He noticed you became unmoving when he dropped down onto the first pool step.

“We’re gonna take it slow, yeah? One step at a time.”

You nodded, letting out your inhaled breath and trying to let yourself relax. His job is to help you, he won’t hurt you.

Your hand shook within his as he pulled you to step onto the first level, and then the second, lastly, letting you stand on the third. The water was to your mid thigh, and it was cold. Not quite like the ocean, but cold enough to send chills all over your body. He let you stand there, getting accustomed to the feeling of the water before tugging gently at your hand again.

He tried pulling you off the last step, where the water would rise above your hips, but you snatched your hand away, unable to take the last leap without that horrid tightness in your throat and the threat of panic in your chest.

“Hey, look at me,” he took your hand back, not pulling yet, but just gaining your attention. “You wanna hear a joke?”

You understood right away that he was attempting to ease the tension you held, and you wanted more than anything to lose it, but even the thought of that was strange and foreign. You made up your mind. You’d agreed to this, and you had come down to the pool. You had to try and cooperate.

You nodded, keeping your eyes on him and trying to ignore the subtle pressure of the water that completely overtook your legs. Should they get swept from under you, you’re certain you’ll never touch water higher than that of a bathtub ever again.

“Why is the ocean so friendly?” He asked, momentarily unfocused as he sank you further into the water. You complied, stiff and anxious as the water got higher with the last step. You kept your breathing even, and avoided looking at the small sloshes against your body from the movement.

“Why?”

“Because it waves,” he chuckled. He genuinely thought it was funny, which was ultimately the thing you found amusing. You laughed too, feeling more relaxed by his help.

“That’s t-terrible,” you muttered, but he caught you in a giggle, so obviously he felt that your statement wasn’t true.

“If it was terrible you wouldn’t be laughing.”

“I’m laughing at y-you.”

“Sure you are.”

He didn’t mention the fact that you were now several inches deeper in the water, nor that he was slowly dragging you along until the water was around your shoulders.

“T-tell me another o-one.”

He nodded, trying to think his best and come up with something. He smiled with a ducked head before looking back up, smirking to you before he tried it out.

“Why is the beach so confident?”

“Why?”

He had to try not the laugh while delivering the punchline. He didn’t even find it that funny, but he was struggling to hold it together, just because of how stupid it sounded.

“Because it’s always one hundred percent shore.”

You had to fight to urge to roll your eyes. Who taught him these? He couldn’t have come up with them on his own, you refused to believe that… but they weren’t so bad, and you found it endearing that he was attempting to soothe your nerves about the water- The water!

You looked around you and realized how deep you’d gotten, arms flailing back in an attempt to pull you back to shallower waters. You almost lost control when you felt a hand at the small of your back, stopping you from getting away.

“Hey, hey,” He grabbed your arm with his other hand, rubbing small circles over it to try and calm your erratic breathing. You had tears coming back to your eyes, the fear of being held beneath this water at the front of your mind. It was all you could think about. All you could feel. The memory of your lungs burning made it even harder to breathe, but he grabbed under your chin, trying to make you reach his eyeline. “It’s okay, just breathe. You’re okay, don’t worry.”

You saw the sea green again, and it made the water seem less scary. The feeling of it around you was still evident, but more peaceful, less restraining. His eyes were the color of the waters back home, and those were much more harsh and dangerous than this. You took deeper breaths, slower and in time with him.

“That’s it, see?” He was unsure of how good of an idea this had been. Why was he doing all of this anyway?

Well, he reminds himself, if you want a victor, this is the special work that goes into it.

Except it’s not. Because, understand, he already has the perfect shot at a victor. Lukas is strong, smart, handsome, and good at making friends. He shows much promise, not only in his physical skill, but in his wit. People in the capitol could quite literally start betting on him if they wanted to, but Finnick can’t do that.

Of course, the question that begs to be asked is… why not?

Finnick is selfish. It’s why he promised himself a victor in the first place, knowing the cost it comes at. He’s competitive, and it stands to why he’s still alive, and not trapped in the memory of the sixty-fifth arena. Most of all, Finnick has chosen a favorite this year, regardless of skill or wit, and it isn’t Lukas.

You’re an excellent tribute, too. He knows it. He sees the strength and intelligence. He sees the hesitant will of someone who understands what they are fighting for. Not fighting to win, not fighting for the attention and glory, but fighting to live.

If only he can fix this one problem, maybe the other will sort itself out. You’re quite charming, and rather sweet. He deems it very possibly that the stutter may go unspoken about as long as the cards are played right.

“That’s good, you’ve got it.”

The more steps you took forward, the closer you were to being submerged, but he wasn’t going to let you sink. His hand still on your back had stayed in the same spot, just for safety and for comfort. Your hands grabbed at his forearms now, taking steps of your own without his lead, until you were as low as you could get without swimming.

“I c-can’t swim yet,” you told him, and he nodded, already proud of how much progress had been made, considering Lukas told him you hadn’t gone above two inches of water in years.

“That’s alright.” He shook his head, completely silencing any doubts you had. He was helping you, not forcing you. He did have an idea, though. “You wanna go for a ride?”

Your face screwed up in confusion, until he turned his back to you, bending his knees to get lower. You thought it childish at first, but didn’t hesitate after that. What could possibly be considered childish anymore? Anything fun from this point forward would be just that. Fun, that distracted from the reason you were here, from the reason you even stood in this water.

Climbing onto his back, hooking your arms over his shoulders, you felt calm, but happy. He swam forward, taking you into deeper water, but you never sank beneath the surface. Your laugh echoed in his ears every time his head was above the water, and he enjoyed the sound. It was pleasant, and so were you.

He couldn’t remember the last time he actually bonded with a tribute. Not as just a mentor, but as a friend. He was young, but sometimes forgot it was okay to still make friends. In this line of work, people come and go. He hopes he can keep his promise to himself, and he prays that it will be in the way he wants.

“My own p-personal seahorse,” you exclaimed, enjoying the slight splashes of mist around your arms every time he paddled further.

“Is that all I am, now?” He said in a mockingly sad tone, setting you down once the waters were shallow enough to stand in comfortably. “Could’ve sworn I was a famous victor.”

“That was y-years ago, t-times are changing.”

“How sad. I guess you’re gonna be the next big thing then, huh?”

“Guess-so.”

And now he wants more than anything for it to not be a joke.

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn

#finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair #thg finnick #sam claflin x reader #sam claflin #thg #the hunger games

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ruiniel · 1 year

Note

ok I just thought of this but Alucard x reader where the reader has been turned into a vampire (while he's away or something or during battle)and feeling like maybe he won't love them anymoreeee?

Ouch, anon!

This will be so angsty.

A Place to Hide

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Count: 1.5k

Rating: T

Tags/CW: Oneshot, Mutual pining, Angst, Context of battle, Mention of death, Alternate universe, Dark fantasy AU, Alucard POV, Vampirism, Longing, emotional hurt/comfort

Summary: This can be considered a follow-up of sorts set after 'To be free'. The murder of Lisa never happened. Instead, sometime in the future there is strife in the vampire world with an alliance of rebelling war chiefs over territory and Dracula is forced to respond. Reader character is an apprentice learning the doctor trade under Lisa. Trying to seek Adrian out after he left for battle was not a successful endeavor...

All characters depicted are 18+

"And you worry too much…"

Your words ricochet through his mind as he dismounts in haste along with the returning troops, the too-hindering armor singing mournfully with every movement, as it had done all those cold, cluttered days and nights he'd been away.

He crosses the barracks area built before the castle and ascends the stairs of his home, a bloodied letter crumpled in his right hand.

"Adrian!"

Like a ghost, a drop of crystal-clear water in a sea of blood, his mother runs towards him, sullying herself against his filthy form as she enfolds him in a fierce embrace. Her dainty fingers curl into his tattered cloak, and Lisa holds on to him with a frenzied relief after, he knows, weeks of fretting.

"You’re safe," Lisa murmurs, "You’re home," she shivers, drawing back to run swift, trembling fingers through his windswept hair.

"Mother," his eyes press shut, and he falls against her. She whispers to him, and all he wants is to drown in her arms and forget; the missive burns like hot coal, still crushed in his hand.

"Your father arrived ahead of you," Lisa says, holding him fast to her. "...they're still assessing status in the council chamber."

And Lisa, for her part, had been running the improvised hospice for their human allies. She looks as weary as he feels. "I know." He can barely speak. "Mother I… I received your letter; before the last skirmish."

They won. Careful tactical planning and losses included, there will be peace again in the borderlands without. For how long? None ever know.

He does not care. "... Where?"

Lisa releases him, slowly, holding him by the shoulders. "Adrian, will you not take the time to... to …"

"Where?" His voice cracks, his bones ache. He wishes he'd never welcomed you here, wishes he'd never met you, befriended you, loved you. He wishes, wishes, wishes as fools do.

"Why do you always push me away?"

Your voice, your face: enraged and so desperate. You needed him then, needed him and he was not here, and the closer he is now, the more the truth gains a near physical weight he pushes against with sisyphean misery.

"Adrian," his mother tries again, as he slowly pries her from him, shaking his head.

"Please."

She tells him. She tells him how you insisted on riding after him, two weeks or so prior, with a meager company through war-torn lands. How Lisa had done her utmost to deter you, but the influx of wounded human soldiers demanded most of her time and energy, day in, day out. She failed, and you would wait no longer. "Forgive me, forgive me..."

He brings Lisa close again, fervently kissing the top of her head, "Don’t. Please. Just... just tell me."

They stay embraced for another moment as the clamor of many rises up to the high, domed ceilings, and figures wade around them like wraiths. "The east tower," Lisa whispers, finally.

By the time he reaches the door, having carelessly stripped and cast off pieces of armor on the way, his vision is blurred. Memories of that day, that last day when you were angry with him but would not leave his side, had been a torturous comfort to his nights through each cut and healing wound, each enemy pierced, each slash of the sword; that day, when he awoke the evening of his departure with you in his bed and in his arms while the chamber's golden light caressed your bareness.

The hinges creak. The door opens, and darkness greets him.

"How am I to learn, Adrian, if you stand in my way?"

He calls to you. He seeks a heartbeat, but there is none; of course, there wouldn't be. The letter falls from his hand like a withered autumn leaf. He calls again, and again, stepping inside the room.

Darkness never posed a challenge to his sight, and as his eyes follow along the richly woven rug, he sees a bare foot, slowly retreating; a huddled shape, in one corner.

"Leave." A broken, barely audible voice.

Never again. Adrian nears and kneels by your side. "But I’ve only just arrived," he says through a forced, trembling smile.

A stir, a rise of hunched shoulders. "... you..."

"Yes, me," he says. "And I’ve missed you… so, so much."

A sigh his only answer, Adrian curls and uncurls his fists. "Will you look at me?"

"Why?" The shape stirs anew. He cannot tell what you might be feeling, not anymore. The signs are gone, but of course, it is you; wherever you are, whatever you are, he will always know.

"Because I… you went seeking for me, and I understand. A part of me... longed for you to do so, from dawn to dusk, every hour, every minute and second." He swallows. "Please," he begs even as a pair of glowing eyes meet his.

He reaches; cups your cheek and falls in dismay when you shun his touch, hiding your face away from him.

Your beautiful, determined face. His anger is boundless; he wants to know who, and make them pay. But you would tell no one of it, from what he learned, and it matters not at the moment. An interrogation is not what you need, nor does he.

"I am sorry. It should have been your choice, if it ever were to happen. I did not listen to you that night where... where I should have."

"Not your fault," he sees half of your face, eternal now, cut by a beam of moonlight. "I was impatient, wanted to reach you, to see you. I was—am, a selfish, selfish fool," you press your knuckles into your eyes "And now, look at me..."

Adrian carefully sits beside you. "No," he objects, poorly, but he's too exhausted, too weak; entranced by you being here, so close, alive despite the shadow imbuing your essence.

"You cannot hear it anymore, can you?"

Adrian shakes his head.

"It is gone."

"But you are not." He reaches, tentatively, and takes your hand, massaging into the knuckles.

"You're so... so warm..." you whisper, close to tears. "I never noticed before, but now, now..." Your words are as cold as your skin. "... what you knew is gone."

He is exhausted, you are hurting. It is over, it should’ve been over, he’d barely convinced you to stay behind back then, to keep safe and continue your work; but here you are anyway. Adrian tenderly pries your other hand away from your chest. He remembers the texture of your skin so well, remembers it soothing his face, his chest, gripping his hips with earnest abandon. Now, it barely returns the slightest pressure. He brings it to his forehead, breathes in deeply and raggedly before pressing the hand to his dry lips.

What can he say? That he regrets not being there? That it eats him from the inside like rot? That he’s never felt such longing nor such pain, and unless you demand it, he will never let you go again?

"I've not slept in days."

Adrian nods slowly, bringing a tentative arm around your shoulders. "It will be so for a while, from what I know." The freezing nightly air glides through an open window by your naked feet, but he realizes it has long ceased to be an issue for you.

"I hear everything around me; every beat of wings, every sigh of wind or flutter of a living heart. The darkness in all things speaks to me in a language I understand, and yet do not."

Unable to resist any longer, Adrian brings and cradles your head to his chest. "There are other changes, yet to come. It is fresh, and you will… you will hurt for a while longer. But... but I am here now, and, if you'll have me, will... I can help."

You're shaking against him, and he knows, if you had tears to shed, they'd be blood. "Adrian, I regret what I said to you that night, how I pushed you, how—"

"I do not." He tips your chin up, rubs his thumb over your lip. "You spoke your... our truth. And for that, you were much braver than I," he follows. "I missed you," he repeats, like a craven.

You melt against his side. "You are warm, I am cold."

"You will take from my warmth."

"I've lost… I’ve lost myself, my very being, my humanity, all my doing," you murmur, spent.

"No," he shakes his head, "Humanity consists of much, much more than a beating heart, you know this."

You smile sadly against the black canvas of the room. "So many out there who would beg to differ."

"... and none of them will ever lay a finger on you in this life, or any other."

Adrian dares to bring you more into him, a hand pressing into your back. You feel the same, he feels whole again. Will you see it? Will you understand?

"I hunger," you speak, the word coated with shame as you melt into him. "I hunger, but I refuse to… to…"

"You must drink to live, now. That is the way of things."

Your fingers claw at his chest. You are strong, so very strong. "My creed is to save lives, not take them."

Adrian draws you into his lap as you finally meet his gaze fully, a peek of fang between your lips. "And so it will stay," he tells you, soothingly but with conviction, pressing you closer as his hand cups the back of your head, as he reaches and unfastens the collar of his tunic. "... I promise."

MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

#alucard castlevania x reader #castlevania fanfiction #adrian tepes x reader #x reader #alucard x reader #castlevania x reader #alucard x you #ruiniel:fanfiction #finally finished another ask #castlevania imagine #adrian tepes x you #castlevania x you #second person POV

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witchie-writings · 10 months

Note

Okay last one I PROMISE!! Megatron’s human pet and what he gets like when he finds out they’ve escaped? How do you think the reader feels knowing he’s probably looking for them? Does megatron get just angry or does he enjoy the hunt because he knows he’ll find them rather quickly? (Bonus if it takes longer than expected and puts mega in ANGRY PANIC MODE lmao)

Had to think about this one a little bit! Not proof-read.

Decided I'll just always put a trigger warning for Bayverse!Megatron. He's just a chaotic man

Should Bayverse!Megatron's pet escape, Megatron would be absolutely outraged and Starscream would end up taking the brunt of his carnage, placing all of the blame onto the second in-command even though it was the warlord’s fault for being too complacent with the human!reader. Control is Bayverse!Megatron’s main schtick - having complete authority and monitoring every inch of one’s daily life or the inner workings of a society gives the tyrant an exhilarating rush of power, so when that is taken away from him or one rebels against the fate that Megatron had lined out for them (i.e., his pet and how they were supposed to be forever a source of cruel entertainment for the cause), the warlord does not take that lightly in the slightest. How DARE they attempt to re-carve out their own destiny? To forge another life away from his grasp, and think they could wipe clean the blood and sin from their tainted hands? Megatron would be sent into a blinding frenzy that no one could reign him in from; he would find no thrill in this hunt, not when it wasn’t on his own terms. All that he could remotely feel is a crushing fury that sends his spark into overdrive, a rushing pulse that the adrenaline rides into his processor and sends him on a rampage to find his lost pet.

As the human!reader escapes, stars above, I would not blame them for terror that would strangle their breath and heart. It takes a considerable amount of willpower to ponder the thought of escaping from the tyrannical mad man, but to put that plan into execution and it actually succeeding is an entirely other realm. They would manage to utilize their significantly smaller body size to their advantage; clinging to the shadows as if they were a frail child seeking the comfort of a warm embrace, the human would weave and wove through whatever crevice they could squeeze into, dodging the glaring gazes of dozens if not hundreds of wandering Decepticons before they finally got to taste the fruitful taste of their freedom. It was sweet, delicate on their soul. The human!reader could almost drown in it… but when the high calms to a slower pace, and the reality sets in, the human begins to realize that they have forever sealed their fate at being hunted till their dying breath.

The best course of action is to quickly seek out those that could provide ample protection against the scourge that trampled all that stood in his way. Thankfully, the Autobots were able to provide such protection, along with their human allies at N.E.S.T. To hear of the human!reader’s story definitely earned them sympathy from all of them and a building urge to protect this lost light, especially from Optimus Prime. Optimus knew of his old friend’s ways and how corrupted Megatron had become; once he was an honorable guard of Cybertron, now fallen to dark desires and false promises, turning him into a violent oppressor that only sought to please his own wishes. He would immediately take the human!reader under his wing to shelter them from the chaotic storm that thundered in the distance, swearing a promise under his breath that he would be their protector from the cybertronian that had been lost to his delusions.

But let’s go back to Megatron, shall we? The longer he draws on his hunt for his prized pet, the more insane and radical he’ll become. If you thought him without his pet was brutal as is, imagine when he had acquired a pet that kept him entertained, only to grow too comfortable and for his pet to abuse this leverage and rebel. Definitely a blow to his swollen pride and made him look like a fool. This time he won’t be so kind.

Despite the ceaseless amounts of scorching rage that flooded his system, Megatron was no fool. If anything, the Decepticons grew to realize how terrifyingly intelligent he truly was, all hidden by his barbaric facade that was well-kept before, but had been haphazardly discarded. Yeah, any attempts at manipulation or blackmailing wasn’t going to work on him in his, admittedly, slightly panicked state. Before? Megatron played the fool, but now, he could care less about such appearances, not when a treasure was flailing around out in the wild thinking life was theirs to own.

No stone is left unturned when Megatron goes on the prowl, and I mean it. Every corner of the Earth he sinks his daggered denta into; villages, towns, remote areas, cities, forests, deserts, jungles, any place you could imagine he’ll shred it apart with his bare digits, all in search of his pet. The Decepticons take part in the hunt as well, if only to avoid the wrath of their feral leader and dodge the prospect of being a doll to be torn apart by Megatron later for their disobedience.

Now, I’ll leave it up to you to imagine if Megatron ends up finding the human!reader or not. Who knows, maybe the Autobots keep them on the move once they discover Megatron’s relentless pursuit of them, or the tyrannical ruler finds them before the Autobots have a chance to register it all. But I will leave this with you: there WILL be casualties between the Autobots and Megatron, and not everyone will survive that particularly bloody conflict. Maybe not even Optimus… or Megatron for that matter. But it goes to show how no one, not even the human!reader, can escape their destined fate for long. Not when they have drawn the gaze of the leader of the Decepticons.

#transformers #megatron #transformers 2007 #transformers revenge of the fallen #transformers dark of the moon #maccadam #bayverse megatron #bayverse megatron x reader #megatron x reader #tf megatron #tf megatron x reader #transformers megatron x reader #transformers megatron #transformers 2007 megatron #decepticons #autobots #optimus prime

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hongjoongscafe · 11 months

Text

You have you...

Drabble

Pairing: jungkookxreader(y/n)

Genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, non-idol au

Summary: when your life collapsed but found the right person at the same time.

Word count: 5.1k+

Warnings: cheating, name-calling, insults, bad texts, mentions of grinding.

Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

Masterpost

The night was a vague reflection of how you felt from the inside. The thunderstorm was taking down the whole city of Seoul. The water was pooling to the ankles and the high flash flood alert messages were stacking up in the notification centre.

But this thunder still could not match the one inside your chest.

Seeing the person you called the love of your life turning back towards you and walking into some other woman’s arms behind your back was enough for your poor heart to crumble down into ashes. The ache was too high to feel anything else.

“Baby, I will never leave you.” “I promise, you are the only one I'll ever love.” “Love, I wanna have a family with you.” “You are the prettiest.” “I am just going with the boys, I will be back before you even know.” “I'm sorry, baby. The boys kept me there. I tried to tell them that I want to be with you but you know how they act, right?” “Baby, you don't understand! I didn't mean to yell at you!” “Love, it's nothing, you are just being delusional. You know I won't do anything to hurt, right?” “I love you forever, baby.”

You scoffed. Fucking lier. There were so many moments when you felt his disloyalty towards you. But you gave him the benefit of the doubt and let him be. Ronny had his way with words. He used them for his benefit. The way he manipulated made you want to rip his head off.

If it wasn't for your colleague who saw him in the car with someone else, eating each other’s face, a couple of days ago, you would have still believed his empty words.

When he came back that night, you checked his phone for the first time as he passed out on the couch. You knew he wouldn't wake up until the next afternoon.

As much as you regretted reading those texts, one part of you needed disclosure. You sat there on the cold tiled floor, tears running down your cheeks, feeling like a loser.

-Y/n is just so fucking dumb, man. I've never been with someone as dumb as her but I guess good for me🤷🏻‍♂️.

-Hey, sexy💋 Last night was so fucking good. You were so wet for me, you little slut😏.

-Dev just asked me to fuck her. If y/n calls, tell her that I'm busy working.

-You up?

-Ronny? I need your big cock in me, plz. Meet me in the Motel…😉

-Y/n looks so fucking ugly, man. I feel so embarrassed next to her. I can feel the vomit in my throat whenever she talks. It's so fucking bitter to tell her that I love her🤢.

-Man, I get so irritated when y/n talks. I can feel myself hating her more and cheat even more just to see how fucking dumb she is.

His last text was what made you get up at this hour of the night and go to the striper club.

-She will be busy with her pathetic painting on Friday. We should meet at the bottom up. When I think about you, I can still feel my cock getting hard thinking about last time😮‍💨. [Allie- sent]

A laugh bubbled out of your throat as you read it. Him and your best friend. Who would have known?

Turns out, everyone knew other than you.

Everyone wanted some drama and they got it. The great Ronny garnished it on a plate and severed it to everyone. Even to those who you thought were your genuine friends.

Now here you were, sitting on a bench in front of a random complex, drowning in your sorrows. When you went inside that club, you caught them wrapped around each other. His one hand was groping her ass and the other was rubbing her pussy through her skimpy shorts.

Your heart was gone. There was no way your tears could stop. When confronted, they laughed and called you names. People around looked at you disgustingly for ruining the perfect mood they were in.

“Get out you bitch. No one needs you here!”

“Damn, you thought I would actually love you? So fucking delusional.”

“How can you be so dumb? You couldn't even see that we both were involved.”

“She just wants me to fuck her pathetic pussy because no one else wants that thing.”

It was difficult to handle. You just let yourself cry loudly like a pathetic person that they said. They weren't wrong. No one else ever wanted you. You were bold enough to think that Ronny truly wanted you even after seeing many red flags. But nothing could win in front of a good manipulation.

“You look like you need a hug,” a sweet voice pulled you out of your head. You looked up at him and noticed there was a charming man standing in a raincoat and an umbrella above your head.

His big doe eyes looked concerned, and his thin and pink lips were frowning. “There is a flash flood warning, you know that, right? You shouldn't be here. Do you want me to call your friends or family?”

Hearing friends and family, your eyes filled with fresh tears and started crying in front of a handsome stranger. You hid your hand behind your hands and wailed.

Six years. It was six years' worth of pain hurling out. It was hurting you as if someone had stabbed you over and over again slowly, making you feel every single inch of it. It was like someone was reopening the fresh wounds with their bare fingers that you just treated.

“I'm Jungkook,” the man said as he sat down, holding the umbrella over you. “You are soaking and it is winter.”

Jungkook was in his apartment, playing his guitar, and composing some new music. He was waddling around and looked out of his window when he saw a girl sitting in the rain, hunched over. He kept looking at her and started to worry when she did not move.

He quickly wore a jacket and raincoat and carried an umbrella for the girl.

As he got closer, he heard her cry loudly all alone in this ungodly rain. He was worried about her. The level of water was rising pretty fast. When she looked up at him, his breath hitched. She was prettier than anyone he has ever seen. So soft and innocent.

He pouted when she didn't say anything but stayed there, still holding the umbrella. He heard her cry for a good twenty minutes before she calmed down and only soft sniffles could be heard.

“I'm Y/n,” you said in your broken voice, throat sore from crying so loudly. “Can you please book an Uber?”

“Y/n, no Uber will pick you up now,” Jungkook said.

You looked at him, another set of tears ready to roll down. “Why?” Your lower lip wobbled.

“Look around, the water is reaching our ass and we are sitting on a bench,” he said.

Only then you realized how bad the rain was and he was not wrong. The water level was rising. “What am I supposed to do now?” You asked yourself, already crying again. It was too much to take in little time.

Jungkook bit his lip and thought about it for a moment. “You should come to my place. It’s bad for you to stay out here especially when you… when you are so vulnerable,” he carefully said.

He was half ready for you to get up and swim away. But he let out a sigh of relief when you nodded, agreeing with him. “Okay,” your voice broke.

Jungkook gave you a soft smile, “I live here. So follow me,” he pointed behind them at the complex. “Here, hold my hand, let me guide you in. Don’t fall unless you know how to swim,” he giggled to himself but quickly regretted when you looked into his eyes and a wobbly chin. “I’m sorry,” he squeezed your hand reassuringly as you held it. You felt your heart thump against your chest at the skin contact. Never once have you felt like this with Ronny.

Jungkook’s apartment was clean, minimalistic, and scented like fresh laundry. The light cream walls with contemporary paintings looked perfectly decorated. The simple lamps hanging from the ceiling were just enough to make it look modernized. The couch had many papers laying around along with hand-knitted blankets and a guitar on the carpeted floor. And a beer can on the coffee table. The gigantic windows overlooked the city. It looked decently luxurious.

“Umm… Stay here, I'll bring some towels for you,” Jungkook removed his shoes and scurried inside his cosy house. And came out in no time. He wrapped a bigger towel around you and handed you the smaller towel. “Washroom is there,” he pointed next to the wall. “You can take a shower. I'll give you some of my clothes. And leave your clothes there, okay? I'll put them in the washing machine with mine. Oh, wait, let me show you the drawer in which you can find anything you want… Well, almost anything.”

He waddled in front of you into the washroom. He turned on the lights and opened a drawer in his cabinet, “Here, there are sanitary napkins, tampons whichever you prefer. Shower things, scrubs, unused loofah, hair ties, these one-use undies, lotion, and face cream. Here is a hairdryer and hair straightener, if you need those. And if there is something else you need, let me know. I'll find it if I have it,” he informed and smiled at you before going out, leaving you alone. He knocked again and peaked his head inside after you opened it a little. He handed you clothes and finally left.

You looked at the closed door with wide eyes. It was amusing seeing this stranger all prepared for emergencies. His girlfriend or fiance or wife must be lucky, you thought. You shook your head in order to not think about it and compare your sorry life with the unknown girl you are not even sure existed. But it won't be a surprise if she did.

Under the warm water, your tears rolled down again. It wasn't easy to just forget and not feel hurt after committing for six years. You mourned about not listening to your gut feeling about him before. Maybe you wouldn't be here, taking a shower in some stranger's washroom.

You took your sweet time before you came out, after drying your hair. As you opened the door, you were met by the melodious voice of Jungkook. The acoustic guitar complimented his mellow voice. The lyrics brought tears to your eyes but you tried your best to not let them flow down your cheeks. You felt like sitting by him and just kept on hearing his voice but he was not in the living room.

You quietly walked towards the entrance door and found him sitting there on the floor, wrapped in a towel as he sang-

We laugh and cry together

These simple feelings

Seems like they were everything to me

When will it be

When I face you again

I want to look into your eyes and tell you

I’ve missed you

Inside the blissful memory

Even if i dance by myself, the rain pours down

By the time this fog clears

I’ll come running on my wet feet

Then, hold me

That moon looked lonely

Because I felt like it was crying brightly in the night sky

Even when I know the morning will come someday

I wanted to remain in your sky like a star~

Just then you noticed that he was still in wet clothes. “Oh my god, Jungkook! Why are you still wet? Why did you not change?”

Jungkook was startled and looked at you. He stood up and rested his guitar on the wall. “Ah, there is only one washroom. I mean, there is one by the bedrooms but the water connection is not working.”

You gasped, “Why did you not tell me before?! Go in. You are going to catch a cold.”

“Nothing will happen to me, don't worry,” he said and noticed how swollen your eyes looked. “You know what? There is a pile of clean and dry clothes over there. You can fold them and leave the dress shirts. I need to iron them beforehand. So, can you do that? As a thank you favour?” He wished it could distract you from your pain. “Do you like FRIENDS?”

You dumbly looked at the basket full of clean laundry and nodded, “yeah,” you mumbled.

“Great! I'll put it on the TV so you won't get bored… I'll take a little time there. So, yeah…” he wanted to leave you alone for a while so that you could have some space. It wouldn't hurt to do a long Sunday night routine on Friday anyway.

His trick worked decently. When he came out, he saw you ironing his clothes and silently giggling at the show. He stood there and admired you. You looked so pretty in his baggy clothes, smiling and just being there. He didn't know who you were, why you were so beaten up mentally, or why he even bothered to bring you to his house. But at that very time, he saw someone who he could consider spending time with. Maybe just to make you feel better before you go away forever.

“I didn't ask you to iron the clothes,” he said as he rubbed his towel in his hair.

“It's alright,” you whispered.

You both said nothing for a while. You ironed his dress shirts and sat on the loveseat in front of him. There was a thick layer of awkwardness. After all, you both were strangers.

“So,” Jungkook began. “Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want to be left alone? Or do you want to play any video games or board games? Beer?”

Thinking about it, you felt like talking to him wouldn't hurt. He doesn't know you and after the water drains out, you will leave this place for good. And beer didn't sound bad at all. “You wouldn't mind me talking?”

“Not at all! Why would I mind?” He frowned. “I’m a good listener.”

“I think beer will be good, too,” you cleared your throat.

Jungkook smiled and stood up with a jump, walking towards his fridge, “a perfect combination!” He came back with a box of canned beer and dropped them on the coffee table and passed you one can. The clicks of cans were heard almost immediately. “Tell me one thing first. Why are you not afraid of being here? I'm just a stranger to you. What if I do something bad to you?”

You thought about it for a second. He wasn't wrong, but, “I’ve nothing left to be worried about…” you mumbled. “I can ask you the same. Why did you let me in? What if I do something to you? Wouldn’t your girlfriend or boyfriend be angry about it?”

Jungkook looked at you with a pout but said nothing about the first sentence you said. “Well, you looked like you could use some company plus no criminal would sit in that rain to hurt me. And I do not have any partner.” He said. “Now. You can talk about it, I’m all ears.”

Your mind went back in time. The flashbacks started to pour back in. All you could do was scoff at them. It was hurting you and you needed to let your emotions out. You had bottled them up for a long. He kept you tongue-tied for as long as you remember being with him. It was shitty and you were aware of it but every single time, you just tucked your tail between your legs and went along with what he had to offer you and it was only insecurities and insults. “I’m just so fucking dumb and stupid.” Jungkook sat up straight, focusing on you fully. “My boyfriend was cheating on me with my best friend.”

“Fuck no,” Jungkook felt anger bubbling up in his guts. If anything he hated the most about people was them cheating on other people. He absolutely loathed people who even dared to think about it. He always believed in being loyal to the partners and yourself. He believed that if one was falling out of love, which is not a big deal, they should be honest about it and find a mutual solution than just going around and being a fucking asshole. He was a man of character. Je didn't even need to know how he was and he already hated him and sympathized with you.

You huffed, “There were so many times when I felt like he was cheating on me but I just trusted him too much to let those feelings get to me,” your eyes teared up as you took a long sip of your beer. “I don’t even know for how long or if he ever even liked me let alone loved me.” From his texts and how he talked to you this evening. You figured he was cheating on you for longer. Possibly since the beginning of your relationship.

You still remembered how wonderful it all felt when you got involved with him. Ronny would act as if he cared and loved you. He would spend time with you, take you to parties, and introduce you to his friends, you felt like you were an important part of his life. However, slowly he stopped taking you with him and started stay away more and more. He would smell like other people's perfume. He would come back, drunk out of his mind.

“I’m so sorry about—”

“You know what's worse?! I caught him red handed with her in a strippers club tonight. They were hugging and touching and rubbing each other. Then I just– fuck. I made a fool out of myself. I ruined everyone’s night. And they kicked me out,” you cried.

“Shit, y/n. Everything was closed down by seven. Were you outside all this time?” Jungkook asked, concerned about you.

“What else was I supposed to do? Go back to that house where I could only see how fucking brainless I am? That place would mock me for being so oblivious,” you picked another can of beer.

Taking the blanket, Jungkook walked to you and wrapped it around your shoulders before sitting back in his place. “It's not only the friend, there were so many girls in his DMs. And he said I was ugly and so irritating. Everyone agreed and I think they were right.”

“Hey,” Jungkook felt bad for you. You were beautiful and such an adorable person. “Don’t say that. They all are wrong. You are so pretty and adorable,” he let out. “I don't think you should believe in them. They have no idea what they are talking about. And you should not think about that prick.”

“I was with that prick for six years, Jungkook. I loved him for six years, slept with him, and took his shit on my head. I can't just not think about him,” you sobbed.

“How can he be so terrible? Man, if I find who he is, I would beat the shit out of him. That boy is just a scumbag. Jeez, I'm so fucking pissed,” he was holding back from asking you his location so that he could go and teach that asshole some much-needed lesson. Jungkook could never even have thought of doing something like that to anyone let alone actually cheating on someone. He felt disgusted by this boy.

“For the past six years, he has become my personality. I thought he loved me and I was just being too much to the point he even called me delusional.”

Jungkook gasped, “No way, that asshole said that. What does he think of himself? Ugh, he should be ashamed of himself.”

“He would always text me cute, lovey-dovey messages. He would buy me things after such arguments and would tell me how much he loved me and that promise to be better,” you finished your second can and opened another one.

“Honey,” Jungkook softly said. “I'm sorry but he manipulated you.”

“And I was too dumb to know that,” she shook your head and covered your face with your hands.

“No, honey, you are not dumb. I think when you love someone, you just do whatever it takes to make things work. And the person who gets manipulated, they don't get to know because that's exactly what he was doing. He knew it. It's not your fault.”

“Jungkook…?” you called.

“Yes?”

“Is your offer for a hug still up?” you shyly asked.

Jungkook quickly stood up and sat with you, wrapping his arms around you, respectfully. “Of course it is,” he mumbled.

“I should have known, you know? She was his close friend that became my friend later on. She was always overly close with him even when she had other guys in her life,” you said.

“Girls like her don't deserve a friend like you, y/n… They are just an embarrassment for us,” Jungkook mumbled as he caressed your head that was resting on his shoulder and rubbed your arm.

There was silence for a while. A comfortable one. His even breath was keeping you from drifting away. And his hand caressing your head was helping your headache. He felt safe. You felt safer than ever in this stranger's arms. He never made you feel like this ever. He only made you feel bad and dumb all the time through his sugar-coated words.

“Can you tell me about yourself? If you don't mind,” you asked.

“It's only fair. I'm Jeon Jungkook. I'm twenty-five. I make music,” he said.

“Really? What kind of songs do you sing?” you found it interesting.

“Well, you probably don't know me,” he shyly chuckled. “I have released a couple of songs on Spotify and nothing more. I can't afford to make a video just yet.”

You look up at him. “But you look like you can.”

He giggled at your reaction. You found it amusing and wanted him to giggle more. It was music to your ears. “Ah, I have a rich father so my funds were good. I saved them over the years. I bought this place with those funds but I don't take any money from him anymore. I want to earn it myself. So I spent all of the money on this apartment and nothing is left for video. I can make a low-budget one and can edit it myself. But I think I'm just not ready for that either,” he disclosed.

“That is so smart,” you commented. “You knew your priorities.”

“You can say that,” he smiled.

“Why are you single?”

Jungkook thought about it. He never really cared about being in a relationship. He was satisfied with how things were going on. “I don't know, honestly. It's been years since I was in a committed relationship. I just didn't feel like I needed it, you know?”

“Ah, okay. Makes sense,” you said. “Are you always open to strangers?” you asked genuinely.

Realization hit him this time. He was always super awkward and shy around new people. He never talked to them and usually, it would take him days to open up. He pouted, “No...” he mumbled. “Anyway, you tell me about yourself,” he quickly changed the topic.

“I'm y/n, twenty-six years old–”

“Noona!” Jungkook looked at you with a toothy grin. “You are noona!”

“Shhh,” you shushed him as you both giggled. “I make paintings for my living.”

“Really?!” he looked at your face with a wide bunny grin. “I make paintings, too. But just for fun. These are all my art pieces,” he pointed around.

You admired them for a while. The details in them were so sharply presented. The colour contrast, blending, and everything was looking professional. “Jungkook, you are so talented. They all are so beautiful. The details and technique look so consistent and appealing!”

He smiled shyly. “It's nothing… What would you like for dinner?”

You helped him in the kitchen as you both settled on making some viral baked feta pasta. And a side of cheesy garlic bread. You both talked about different things and found out that you both had many things in common. Almost everything you loved, he loved them, too. He told you about those disposable undies (it was funny for you to think about). He said that one of his girl-friend once had her periods before the time and it ruined her clothes. He had nothing to help her with and she just wore his shorts and used a tampon. He said that he felt bad for not being able to help her so he bought these just in case someone needed them.

He also mentioned how his mother was open about girls and their needs related to periods and clean shower products. So he always made sure that his place had a full stock for emergencies because his Hyungs’ girlfriend usually came along with them or other friends. He wanted them to not worry about such things and find his place comfortable enough.

You could tell he was raised by a kind-hearted and responsible woman. It was shocking to you. For six years, you lived with someone who didn't care about any of your needs or brought stuff that was considered necessary. He would just make and mess and leave. He felt like a burden more and less like a human.

“What do you think about…” Jungkook nervously started. “Dating someone now that you are single again.” he had never clicked with any women as he did now. It felt like he knew you for longer than anyone else. He wanted to hold you again and tell you how much more you were worth than you were told. He wanted to whisper good things about you in your ears and make you feel like the most special being ever.

You felt shy under his gaze. “I don't know… I have been cheated on for longer than I even know.”

“What if your date wants to be there for you and help you heal and show you what a real man is like and treats you with utmost care and serves you loyalty which is the bare minimum?” he made eye contact with you. “Because he knows he is better than him and you are much more than what he says.”

It was not worth crying over someone who gave no damn about you. But you still loved him. You needed to heal and being alone, it was going to be difficult and you needed someone’s shoulder to lean on. “I think that won't be that bad…”

Jungkook softly smiled and let out a sigh of relief. “I guess, you are going to have a date tonight by the window.”

Your little date was perfect. You both sat in sweet silence and enjoyed your dinner. He even lit some candles to set the mood. The mellow music on his record player was soothing.

If someone told you that your night would end up like this in a stranger's house like this, you would have laughed and called them an idiot. But it was not bad at all. You had nothing else left so giving this a go was not bad.

The dinner ended with ice cream and cookies. After that, Jungkook laid down some mattresses on the ground by the ceiling-length windows along with a blanket and many pillows. He left his Mikrokosmos mood lamp on and turned off the other lights. And gave you some medicines to keep you from falling sick.

You sat there, wrapped in the blanket as he joined you. “Would you like to cuddle?”

“Yes, please.”

“How are you feeling now?” he asked as he wrapped himself around you.

You smiled, resting your ear on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Better… Much better.”

“I'm glad,” he whispered. “Just… Don't ever believe in shit he said, okay? You are nothing but a kind, intelligent, hard-working, smart, and beautiful woman. You deserve nothing but happiness.”

“Where was I even wrong? I tried so hard for what?” you thought out loud.

Jungkook kissed your head. “You were not wrong, baby. He was. He is at a loss. He made you feel like this because he could never reach your level. You are the best and he knows it. He needed to bring you down to make himself feel better about himself. He was just a pathetic douchbad. He was just an immature boy.”

“Jungkook… Thank you for today. I don't think I could have survived anything tonight. I felt like I lost everything all at once. I'm thankful more than I can ever express. I don't know how to return this favour.” You could not express your feelings through words. They were too heavy for you to form into sentences. You have no idea what you could have done tonight if it wasn't for him and his kindness. Even if it ended without this tiny date, you were already saved by him.

After years, you felt like someone listened to you for the first time. It was enough for you to make you want to cry with joy. It felt embarrassing and yet so good.

“It's not a favour, y/n. It's just something I did because I just couldn't see you sitting on the bench like that. I'm happy that you are here and happy. If you had gone somewhere else, I would have kept on thinking about you and how you were. I'm just so happy that you are here and I know that you won't do something stupid.” He expressed his feelings.

It must have been hard on him as well. It's not a daily occurrence but something strange. But this time, it was strangely beautiful.

“You,” he said after a long comfortable silence. He was still thinking about what you said earlier. It was bothering him to an endless extent. He was afraid that you kept yourself so neglected.

“Huh?” you asked, confusingly.

Jungkook looked into your eyes and kissed your forehead softly and slowly, it felt much more intimate than he imagined. His heart was going crazy just like yours. Call it a first-sight love but you two knew it was more than that. He again looked into your eyes and spoke up –

“You have you to worry about…”

.....

Sanaa's note:

Hii! I hope you enjoyed this. I really appreciate your feedback. Plz, do leave your thoughts behind. It helps me to write more and motivates me to improve. My college is starting on Monday. So I won't be able to update anything sooner. I hope you guys understand😊

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae

Have a nice day/night💓

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