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thexsilentxwordsmith · 2 days

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 5 of Truth or Dare Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Things are getting complicated, truths are being revealed, and a decisions are going to have to be made regarding the future. So much hangs in the balance and emotions are high as reality makes this about no more games.

Word Count: 9.8 k

Warnings: light mentions of smut (nothing explicit), pining, mutual pining, heavy angst, forcing a decision

Captain Price bristles at the private’s words, taken aback by this impromptu revelation, but he hides it all behind his usual stone cold stare. A gruff exhale exits his lips as he runs his fingertips over the perimeter of his mustache. “Don’t care ‘bout what happens on off hours,” he says full of contempt at being dragged into this bullshit. “It’s none of my business and it’s none of yours either, so best just drop it private.”

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go; the captain is supposed to march over to the lieutenant’s quarters and break up your little lovefest right this second at hearing his confession. At least that was what the private was hoping for when he decided to make this visit. He needs something more.

“But sir,” he says more exasperatedly, “it isn’t just after hours. The first time I caught them, the lieutenant and sergeant were going at it in the munitions depot when I walked in; you remember that day you sent me to fetch Lt. Riley. They’ve even been engaging in activities in the field as well. During our mission they neglected their watch duties to screw around like some fucking teenagers. Is that what you call acceptable, sir? Is this how you run your operations?”

Goddammit, now it is Price’s problem. Messing around when off duty or on leave is one thing that can be easily overlooked as you are both adults who are engaging in activities with consent, but risking it all when out in the field is another matter altogether. There are protocols and you are supposed to be professionals. And if this bit of information gets out it could have dire consequences for the validity of this task force.

“Maybe I should bring my concerns up to someone higher,” the private mutters in the silence that follows as Price mulls over everything in his mind.

“What did ya say?” the captain fires back as he rejoins the conversation, his firm glare boring holes into the private.

Immediately the young man regrets having uttered it aloud, but there’s no going back now. “I just… I-if I need to, I-I will have to go above you, sir,” he stammers out as he tries to maintain his resolve.

Fuck, this is bad.

Price sits forward in his seat, his eyes never leaving the private even though he tries to divert his gaze; each time he brings it back Price is ready to meet it head on. “You will leave this be private,” Price threatens, his voice firm. “This is not under your jurisdiction, nor is it in your ability to decide who needs discipline in these matters. I will take care of it as I see fit; I am the one in charge, not you. Do you understand?”

“Sir, I should at least get to know that you are going to do…” the private tries to argue some more, but the captain is having none of it.

“You’re dismissed,” Price barks as he points a steady hand towards the door.

“But sir…” he tries to protest again and again he is cut off.

“I said, dismissed private, or would you rather I start my disciplining with you,” Price says unyieldingly, staring him down with a glare that means he is seriously done with this conversation and with being disrespected.

Quickly the private gets up from his seat with a furrow-browed nod and a rushed, pointed ‘yes, sir,’ that he mutters through his gritted teeth before he turns on his heels and stalks to the door to fling it open and stomp off into the night, leaving Price alone in his office once more as he slams it behind him.

With the immediate quiet that follows, all Price can think about is what the private has revealed to him. To have the highly trained professional that is Simon Riley abandon everything to mess around with anyone during a mission is unheard of, but it being you makes this even more complicated. This is territory he has no prior knowledge on; something big must be happening for everything to be turned on its head and he doesn’t know what the fuck he is going to do about it all.

Though he knows he cannot just let this go. At least he has the weekend to think it all over, but he knows come Monday he is going to have to act or risk too much because that private is not going to let this go, that much is clear.

The captain decides that that is enough for the night and packs it up to head out. As he leaves out and turns to get back to his own quarters, his eyes linger over to where a specific officer is housed. “What the fuck have ya done Simon?” Price questions aloud to himself as he steps off into the darkness with much weighing on his mind, pondering the next steps of what actions must now be taken.

Back in the lieutenant’s room, hours pass in the blissfully exhaustive ecstasy produced from your union. Both of you slumber on peacefully, wrapped in one another, entirely unaware of anything outside the confines of the mattress until something unfamiliar makes Simon stir awake.

Intaking a full, deep breath, he fills his lungs with a flood of air as he comes back into consciousness, his eyes fluttering open in a mild panic from movement at his side. It takes him a moment to realize that it is you rolling back over to face him that has caught him off-guard; he forgot that you would still be in his bed. Mystery solved, he calmly settles back down into his pillow and watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, admiring how tranquil you look as your dark eyelashes rest delicately against your cheeks.

It’s been a long, long time since he’s slept beside anyone; he’d almost forgotten how comforting it can be to have another laying beside you. A weak smile spreads across his lips as careful fingers reach over to the side of your head so that he can tenderly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

God, you’re beautiful just like this. How did he get so god damn lucky to have something so pure sleeping soundly next to him? You let out a whispered sigh and suddenly he is caught up in a whirlwind of feelings that have been in hibernation for years as his fingertips linger delicately against the soft flesh of your cheek a moment more. He wishes he could kick himself for not trying to get closer to you sooner, if only to have you here lying next to him as if it has always been this way.

Those copper eyes drift to the plain black and white standard government issue clock tacked to the wall. It’s nearly five in the morning; still too early to be conscious just yet, but once he’s up there’s no going back down. He takes a few more minutes to silently appreciate your sleeping form by capturing the image of you like a polaroid in his mind and then decides to just let you sleep until the last minute before he wakes you up to send you safely on your way.

Who said you needed to rush off anyway?

As carefully as all 6’4” of him can, he eases his way out of the bed and creeps bare-arsed to the en suite bathroom so that he can grab a quick shower, though he’d like nothing more than to keep the scent of you on him a little longer. It won’t do him any favors to go around base today with the fragrance of sex covering him like a beacon to draw people’s unwanted attention.

Cautiously he eases the bathroom door to where it is slightly ajar, not risking shutting it since he knows how bad the damned thing squeaks, and only then does he flick on the fluorescent lights to illuminate the space. Blinking to adjust his eyes to the harsh brilliance, he opens them and immediately catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror that faces the door.

Even though he still carries the signs of sleep in his distinct features, he can already tell that he is different somehow and he walks closer to his reflection to get a better look. Everything is exactly where it should be, but his eyes seem brighter, more full of life… as if he is happier than he has been in recent memory. He stares back into them as if he is looking at a different person, a reunion with an old friend he hasn’t seen in a long time.

And he doesn’t know what to think. It is a gift from you, after all…though you don’t even know you’ve given it to him yet.

Simon shakes his head and chuckles to himself, not fully ready to accept this drastic change to his appearance just yet, as he pulls from the mirror and walks the few steps to the shower to get it going. The pipes running to the showerhead squeak to life as run for a few seconds when without warning he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind as a warm, naked chest presses into his back. It momentarily takes him by surprise as he is still getting used to having someone around, but he eventually settles into your embrace.

“Was tryin’ not to wake ya yet,” he mutters as he runs his hand over yours that is against his stomach.

“Heard the shower kick on,” you murmur sleepily into his shoulder as you place your lips to the smooth skin near his shoulder blade, “thought I could do with getting clean myself, so I wanted to join you.”

It isn’t a total lie, you do need to wash up after the mess from the night before, though you wish you could be honest and say that you just wanted to be close while you still can. You know you are going to have to leave soon if you want to make it back to your quarters without detection, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of disappointment that looms like a gray cloud at the back of your mind that you will have to part ways.

Simon holds your palms pressed rigid and flat against his abdominals so you can’t let go as he leans in to check the temperature of the water with his free hand. The heated liquid rains down onto his palm perfectly warm, but not too hot, and being satisfied he pulls you both inside the cozy oasis.

He moves you in front of him so that your back is directly under the shower head, letting the heated water run through the length of your hair and down the curves of your bare back to keep you warm. It feels like you’re still in a dream the way the steam rises around your bodies in the tight space, the condensation clinging to your skin like a warm blanket. Maybe you are still asleep in his bed, you feel barely awake as it is, and if that’s the case you hope you don’t wake up cause you don’t want to leave the fantasy just yet.

The soothing water lulls you into a drowsy calm as Simon holds you close against him while he naturally rocks you both back and forth with slow, easy movements as he gently tries to help you wake up. He cannot help admiring the flush in your face brought on by the heat or the way the droplets trickle over your soft, delicate skin. Reaching out, his hand connects with your cheek as he strokes his coarse thumb over your jaw and up to the corner of your mouth before dragging it heavily over your bottom lip until he has them parted.

“I swear you’re a fuckin’ dream, pretty girl,” he whispers as his hand on your face brings it in towards his so that he can gently connects your lips.

Memories of confessions from the night before spring back to the surface, admissions of possession that he doesn’t want to take back even though that mind-numbing haze from being inside you is gone. You can hear him sigh heavily as he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours.

If only he could wake up like this every day. Could that even be a possibility for someone like him? Inside the steam-filled oasis that cloaks you both from reality, he allows himself to fantasize just a little. Maybe…maybe…

Simon lets you go only to grab the soap from its place sitting on the edge of the tub, ready to clean up the mess he made. Taking care of someone other than himself is an oddly comforting sensation to him and even though you try to protest that he doesn’t have to, he still takes the time to wash you down anyway before tending to himself.

He leaves you inside the shower to finish up as he steps out into the bathroom, wrapping a towel securely around his hips, making sure to leave a towel for you as well before he heads to the mirror. His rigorous actions between your legs last night left a rather rough patch against your thigh that he caught sight of in the shower and checking his face in the foggy bit of glass above the sink, Simon decides it’s about time to shave.

…cause he is definitely going to get between those legs again soon.

A bag of random toiletries lies at the edge of the sink and he rummages around in it until he locates his razor. He steps up to the counter and turns on the sink just as the creak from the shower handle rings out and the water is shut off. From the mirror he can see you step out and wrap the towel he’s set out for you around your chest.

You ring out your hair behind you before you move to his side and turn to rest your butt against the edge of the countertop. Looking down, you spy the shaving instrument in his hand.

“Gettin’ rid of it?” you ask with a hint of disappointment as you reach up and run your fingertips over his jaw. The steam from the shower has already softened the hairs so they don’t prickle roughly against your touch as you outline his face.

Suddenly he can’t find his voice; every single time you touch him it’s like the first time all over again and it makes his head spin. Clearing his throat he looks down at you. “It’s a bit too rough, innit?” he says, tapping at your thigh with the abrasion on it. “Don’t wanna hurt ya again.”

Why did it sound more deep a sentiment than it should have been? A lump wells in your throat as you realize he is doing this for you and you alone; it’s just a shave, but to have him care about your wellbeing is very special to you. Especially after the confessions from the night before; clearly he has meant it: you belong to him now.

“Well, if you must…but, I wonder. Can I?” you ask with a smile as you reach for the blade in his hand.

Simon pauses before giving it up to you. This is a new one for him and he is a little unsure, but curious enough to see where it leads. You move your body between him and the counter so that you can hop up and sit yourself in front of him. Opening your legs, you pull him in close.

“You trust me, don’t you?” you ask barely above a whisper as you situate him in the middle of your legs.

More than anyone, he thinks to himself as he silently stares back into your eyes. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t have to, he just drops his hands by his sides and tilts his jaw up.

Your ankles link behind the small of his back as your hand grasps his chin to keep his head steady so you can place the razorblade to his cheek. The sharp edge of the blade pushes into his skin and is dragged slowly down the line of his face until it reaches your hand where you pick it up to move on to the next section. It’s like an intimate dance, the risk of it all as the blade continues to pass over his skin, but you skill keeping him safe from cuts, making his heart race so you can feel his pulse under your fingertips.

“Just hold still,” you say as you feel the sensation of his hands moving up your bare thighs, running up towards your hips that have peeked out through the slit in the towel. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ya won’t,” he says in that gruff tone without hesitation and you can feel the warmth rise in your face.

There is steam still lingering in the air from the shower; it is fogging the mirror and adds a filmy haze to the atmosphere. The aroma of his soap is strong between your bodies, both of you coated in his usual plain, clean scent. It’s nice just being here like this with him.

Another pass of the blade and more of that thick stubble comes right off under your careful hand. You move the blade over to the sink to rinse it again and that’s when you feel it, a stabbing against your thigh from within the confines of his towel. His damp, hair-covered chest rubs against your forearms as he moves in even tighter to you.

“Like the way ya look, all serious like when you’re workin’ hard at somethin’,” he says in a breathy whisper as you finish another swipe of the razorblade across his jaw. “Didn’t know how good you’d be with a sharp object in your hand.”

“Well, if you keep moving I might not be so precise. I’m almost done,” you scold him, but Simon isn’t deterred just because you have something sharp in your hand. He has something just as deadly prodding into you too.

His strong fingertips jab themselves into your hips, stabbing into the meat hard through the towel as he presses himself into you and suddenly it feels like you can’t quite catch your breath. He hums deep in his chest, a low, guttural sound that makes your clit throb as those long fingers of his twirl the loose, wet strands of your hair between them.

“I’ll give ya ‘bout another minute to get it done,” he says as his gaze lingers longingly on your mouth. “That’s all I can wait.”

Suddenly the room isn’t the only thing that is obscured in a haze; your mind is misfiring terribly now as you hurry to finish the job while also being sure you don’t miss any spots. You rinse the blade for the last time and quickly check him over, flashing him a satisfied smile at your handiwork.

“I thought we just got clean for the day?” you ask as he takes the blade from your hand and sets it on the countertop beside you.

He doesn’t answer the question with words, instead letting his mouth do something else to convey his thoughts. His kiss is softer now with the missing stubble, though just as passionate as it always is and it takes your breath away.

“I like the way you kiss me,” you murmur against his lips.

“Good, cause I don’t plan on stoppin’ anytime soon, sweetheart,” he groans as his fingers reach up to your chest to find the edge of the towel; with one small tug he has it undone. It drops down around the sink as he leans in more aggressively to capture your mouth.

There’s still enough time for another shower, right? Fuck, at this point he’ll make time.

Dawn is just beginning to break its first soft light over the base as you step out of the shower for the second time and hurriedly get dressed. Simon meets you at the door with a knot in the pit of his stomach; time’s up whether he is ready or not and if you want to make it back undetected it has to be now.

“Got plans later tonight?” he asks as he pulls you to him one last time.

You look up into his face and shake your head. “Not that I know of. Gonna be a light day today. Why?”

Simon pins you against him with his arm around your waist as he tilts his head down to kiss your lips. “Just thinkin’ ya might want ta be in later,” he says, giving one last peck before he opens the door and you immediately take off in the direction of your personal quarters.

He keeps his eyes on you till you’re out of sight, trying to wipe away the slight upturning of the corners of his mouth. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he grumbles under his breath as he shuts the door.

The rest of the day is spent in a blur, punctuated by the few times you just happened to catch a glimpse of Simon through the days as you go about. Your mind constantly wanders back to what he meant by you might want to stay in later, so when Soap asks if you’re gonna come hang in the rec with them for a bit of Saturday fun, you decline and stay put in your room instead.

It’s a little after 9 o’clock when there is a heavy knock on your door, loud raps that echo through the room and make you put away the book you are failing to distract yourself with under your bed. You hop off the mattress, your heart fluttering in your chest. Making it to the door and pulling it open you immediately come face to face with the person leaning against your door frame: Simon.

“Ya gonna let me in, luv?” he asks. “Or ya just gonna fuckin’ leave me out ‘ere all night?”

You cross your arms and furrow your brow as if you are agitated, but it doesn’t last more than a few seconds before you are breaking character. “Couldn’t stay away for one night, could you?” you pick back.

There is a visible smirk beneath the thin fabric of his lightweight balaclava. “ ‘S part a my routine,” he says as you grab his hand and drag him inside. “Too used to it now.”

“Well far be it from me to stop you,” you say with a smile as you shut the door and bolt it behind you both while Simon quickly rips off the mask and pulls you into a kiss.

“Knew you’d cave,” he breathes against your mouth.

“Maybe I like you around,” you say back.

Maybe I like bein’ around, he thinks as he kisses you back harder as you lead him over to your bed.

Sunday evening is spent in the same vein except with you both switching off again so that you are the one to come over to his to spend your evening together. Cause he is right, this arrangement has become routine now and your day just doesn’t feel complete without seeing him. Unfortunately though, it being Sunday you both decide to call it earlier as your duties will call you to work early in the morning.

One lingering goodbye later and Simon is once again watching you walk away, secretly making a wish that maybe you’ll get the chance soon to spend more time together when something breaks him out of his thoughts. As he shuts the door behind you, suddenly he can hear a distinct buzzing coming from somewhere near his bed. He knows that sound; it’s his cellphone. It’s late and he never gets a call at this time, so quickly he grabs it up off the nightstand near the bed and as soon as he is able to get a look at the screen, his heart sinks into the floor: Price is the one that is calling.

He picks it up. “Yes, sir,” he answers in his usual stern tone.

There is a pause over the line before the captain speaks. “Lieutenant,” Price says, “I apologize for calling, I know it’s late, but I need to see you in my office tomorrow morning. 0800 hours. There are some things we urgently need to discuss.”

This strikes Simon as odd; never has the captain called him this late to inform him of a meeting the next day, so why would he be doing it now? Something feels off about it all and though he has no information other than that his presence is needed, there is something in Price’s tone that has his blood running cold.

“What’s this about, sir?” Simon asks, keeping his voice metered as his heart begins to race.

Price sighs. “I would rather wait till the mornin’ to talk further as this is something that needs to be discussed in person.”

“Yes, sir,” Simon agrees.

“That is all lieutenant, enjoy the rest of your evening,” the captain says in a rush and with that the line goes dead, leaving Simon confused and slightly worried.

Time seems to drag on endlessly as anxiety keeps him up the entire night tossing and turning as he stares into the ceiling. He thinks about texting you just to see if you’re up, but he talks himself out of it. His needless worries shouldn’t bother you, even though he knows you’d answer him in a heartbeat. No, he just needs to get through the night and then in the morning everything will be settled; it’s going to be fine.

An hour before he is supposed to meet the captain and Simon is already up and dressed; his office is less than a ten minute walk from Simon’s, but he wants to be early. It’s better to just get this over with so he can enjoy the rest of his day and make plans to see you later. With twenty minutes still to go he heads out and makes his way across the base.

With a knock on the door, he waits until Price looks up before entering the office.

“Early as usual,” the captain greets him.

“Better than late,” he says, before nodding back behind him. “Ya want me to shut the door?”

“Not yet,” Price says and Simon leaves the doorway to take his seat in one of the chairs facing the large, wooden desk.

He’s sitting for just a few minutes before Price’s eyes dart up to the door and he can feel the shadow of another person standing there. “Ah, yes, come in and shut the door. Now that you are both here, we can get started,” he hears the captain say as he turns his head to see who it is that has arrived; he had been under the impression that this was a solo meeting this whole time.

Suddenly his heart stops as the person comes into his line of sight. It’s you, the blood draining from your face as you see him sitting there. It’s clear you have been caught off-guard by this as much as he has. The atmosphere becomes tense and strained as you take a seat next to Simon. Captain Price sits tall with authority as he stares back at the pair of you, a grave look in his gaze.

“Do you know why I’ve called you in here?” Price asks, looking first at you, then the lieutenant.

Neither of you feel keen enough to say anything, but you finally speak up first, if only to break the anxiety bubbling under your moderately calm surface. “No, sir.”

Price takes a hesitant breath. “I have been informed over the weekend about you both engaging in acts of misconduct,” he says firmly. “You’ve been seen cavorting with one another on several occasions. Now, there are things that can be overlooked and if it were up to me I woulda simply turned a blind eye and pretended to know anything, but it has been brought to light that these ‘activities’ were done while out in the field on your latest mission. Is this true?”

The hair on Simon’s arms is standing on end and he feels like he is about to be sick, the bile violently churning in his stomach as his worst fear is realized. Instantly he feels guilty and begins to blame himself; this is all his fault. After all, he was the one to break protocol back at the safehouse. His careless actions have caught up to you both and now you will have to face the consequences.

Price turns his attention to you as there is no hiding the guilt on your face like Simon can behind his mask and though neither of you have spoken yet to confirm, there is no need. Your body language mixed with his lieutenant’s silence alone tells him that the accusations that were made are indeed true.

“You both understand that this is out of my hands,” Price emphasizes the point. “If this reaches anywhere outside this base my authority will be brought into question and this operation cannot afford that. Not to mention that I risk the possibility of losing either one or both of you if things escalate. What the hell were you thinkin’, doin’ that while deployed?”

The lieutenant doesn’t have an answer, at least not one that will make this all go away. The problem is that he wasn’t thinking; all he knew was that for the first time in a long while he wanted something so bad that the consequences didn’t matter in that moment. Now he has to pay for them and unfortunately that means you do as well…and that is what is breaking his heart.

He has dragged you into hell with him.

“You both have crossed a line that I can’t pull you back from,” Price continues with a defeated exhale. In all honesty, he wants nothing more than to let this go, but there are too many variables at stake. “The one who reported this is threatening to take this up the ladder as far as they need if I do nothing. My hands are tied on the matter.”

“Sir, if you’ll let me explain, perhaps we can come to an agreement…” you try to reason with your captain, but that is not how this will go.

Price can hear the tremble in your voice and he knows he’s struck a chord. The look he gives you is one full of remorse. “But in the end we’re all adults here and that means ya have a say in what happens to yourselves. If you want to request a transfer or, hell, apply for a discharge, I can’t stop you; that is a decision you have a right to make.”

The wind feels like it has been knocked from Simon’s lungs and though he can see Price talking, his mind will not allow him to fully comprehend what is being said.

Amidst the stunned hush that has fallen over the room, Price slowly pushes his chair out from the desk and makes his way to stand. “I know I’ve sprung this on you both without so much as a warning, so I’ll give you some time alone to make your decisions. Otherwise, I will have to make them for you and that is something I want to avoid.”

With that he steps out of the office, closing the door behind him, and thrusting you both into an uncomfortably tense stillness. It lingers for far too long as Simon battles internally with what to do, struggling to accept that his happiness has imploded as it always does, but one thing he keeps coming back to is the fact that no matter what, you will be forced to separate if one or both of you decide to stay in this line of work.

The taskforce means everything to you just as it does him and this is so much bigger than simply exploring the depths of a crush. This is your entire life, all the blood, sweat, and effort you’ve both put in to be here; it’s all you’ve worked so hard for. It is all you both have ever known.

Can you really give that all up? It’s too soon to be having this type of life-altering conversation.

Out of the turmoil in his mind, he hears you calling his name. “Simon? Hey,” you call out to him again to get his attention; it feels like he is a million miles away even though he is still sitting right beside you.

He can’t bear to look you in the face and keeps his eyes locked on his shoes; his gaze is so avoidant that it is painful, especially after how close you both have become. Still, you try your hardest to lighten the mood even through the ache making your chest tight.

“Not the best way to start the morning,” you chuckle uncomfortably.

More silence follows, more agony. He’s going to have to say something at some point and when he does it’s all going to come crashing down. As long as he is quiet he can suspend the moment for as long as possible.

“Listen,” you say, “I know this sounds bad, but we can figure it out. I mean, I don’t have a problem with requesting the transfer if I have to.”

That’s the last thing he wants; you can’t leave. If you leave it will kill him. “Sweetheart… don’t…” Simon speaks up for the first time since you entered the office and it sounds like he’s being tortured.

“Would a transfer really be so bad? Who knows? It could just be for a short while until everything cools off,” you remark, still hopeful, but he simply shakes his head.

Simon pauses. “No, ya can’t do that,” he says and you can feel a lump forming in the base of your throat that makes you almost gag.

“Isn’t it my decision? Don’t I get a say in what I do?” you push.

Another drawn out pause. “Ya don’t wanna do that, I know ya don’t.”

“Don’t speak for me,” you say harshly as you know where this is headed and you can’t stand even the thought of it. “I can choose to do what I want.”

“I can’t let ya do that,” he denies you again, his words firm. “I can’t let ya fuckin’ give up everythin’ for me, no matter how much I may want it. Ya forget I read your personnel file when ya arrived, I know ya worked your ass off ta get ‘ere. You made it all the way ta sergeant by the sweat of your brow. Don’t fuckin’ throw it all away jus’ for somethin’ so new.”

More pauses. Why is there so much silence present now? It hurts to have all that quiet be filled with sadness where it was only comfort before.

“So, this is it then?” Your heart is shattering into pieces, you can physically feel it crumble as you suffocate on the sadness. When did this get so god damn complicated?

Simon bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste copper. “I don’t know what else ta fuckin’ do…” he says quietly. “This is all so sudden, I don’t ‘ave a plan. I just know ya can’t leave and I need more time.”

He’s not as quick to act on this as you are and you can’t fault him for that. In all honesty he isn’t wrong; this is all happening so fast that it’s overwhelming and nothing really feels like the right decision. So, even though it pains you to concede to his argument, you do and the heartbreak wins. Yet you cling on to the hope that maybe there is a way out of this. He did not say outright that he is completely done, only that he needs time to think.

You can give him time, right?

“Please, Simon, just look at me.”

Those brown eyes drift up to meet yours and the agony of this whole fucked up situation is written in his gaze. This is supposed to be something wonderful, not something that has casualties, and he is being ripped apart by duty and what he wants most. He wants to scream, beat his fists, break anything, but it won’t do any good; he is like a man cursed…somehow this was always going to happen.

“ ’m sorry,” he says and a heavy bit of silence follows as you sit there just looking at one another.

Overcome with emotion, you swallow hard. “I know,” you retort as you reach out to take his hand in yours. “I know.”

Simon slides his long fingers in between the spaces in yours and holds on so tight to your hand it’s almost painful. Irrationally he thinks that maybe if he squeezes hard enough not even fate can take you from him, but that isn’t the case. There is no stopping what has to happen and though you both can prolong the moment, you can’t stop time.

Releasing his grasp, he lets you go and all at once you feel like you’re drowning. He leaves your side only for a moment to reopen the door as a sign that a decision has been made. Several more excruciating minutes pass, but eventually Price reenters the office and again takes his seat. There is a gloom that sits in the room now like a fog and he knows without even having to ask that a decision has been reached and it is one that clearly was not reached happily.

“It’s over, sir,” Lt. Riley confirms with the short response; any more than that and he may fall apart.

Price nods in acknowledgement. “In that case, I think it best to send ya both out on separate missions very soon. It’ll show that action has been taken in case anything else comes from the allegations. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter; I know it could not have been easy.”

You nod back firmly in agreement and Lt. Riley does the same.

Price quickly dismisses you both and you immediately bolt up from your seat to make it to the door in a flurry of quick steps, too overwhelmed by your emotions to sit still another second more beside the one thing you can no longer have. You can’t seem to catch your breath and even though you make it outside of the stifling atmosphere inside the office, it does not lessen.

Your feet carry you forward to where you have no clue; there is no rational thought left with you right now. All you know is that you need to put distance between everything and everyone that you can before you shatter because it hurts like you are being torn in half from the inside and if you are going to rupture you want to do it where no one can see.

But grief is a volatile and disastrous thing; it consumes and destroys and confuses. Right now, your mind is scrambling to feel something other than the pain of your loss, any other emotion it can experience that won’t murder it and it settles on the emotion that is the opposite side of grief: anger.

Halfway across the site you spot that familiar mohawked head near the mess hall and a rage builds in you. You and Simon had speculated before about Johnny’s knowledge of your situation, what if he was the one that told Price? Intentional or not, what if he is the reason all this is destroyed? There is not a shred of proof, but your brain is desperate to find someone to blame, anyone to throw all your anger on and that just happens to be him. Before you can stop yourself, you are already bounding his way.

Johny looks up as you come within earshot, turning his back to the building. “Hey, stranger, ‘aven’t seen ye ‘round much this weekend. Wonder why that is?” he says with a knowing smirk, but it drops from his face as he sees the look on yours.

Without warning you grab Johnny by the collar and manhandle him until you are able to haul him forward and slam into the wall behind him, knocking the wind from his lungs as you crush him up against the concrete. “Was it you?” you spat the question with fury into his face. “Tell me now or so help me God…”

“What the fuckin’ hell are ye talkin’ ‘bout?” he asks back as he struggles under your tight grip around his collar. “Have ye lost yer mind?”

Blinded by rage, you pull him back only to shove him harder into the wall. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you say, the venom in your voice full of acid. “Were you the one that ran like a bitch to tattle on me to Price? You better have a fucking good reason why.”

Johnny pauses and stops struggling against your grip, confused. “Wait, what?” he asks. “Someone’s gone te Price ‘bout somethin’? Ye gotta explain everythin’ cause I don’t get it; seriously, what’s this about?”

The tone of his voice causes you to really discern the look in his eyes: he is genuinely confused by your statement. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about?” you question.

He shakes his head. “No and I’m bein’ serious.”

In the time you’ve known him, Johnny has always been straight with you and you do genuinely trust him to tell you the truth. He may be a pain in your ass sometimes, but honesty is always something that you have shared. If he says he doesn’t know, he must really not know.

“Tell me, what’s happened?” he asks, his brows drawn together as he stares back at you with serious concern.

You choke back the emotion gathered in your throat as your eyes sting. No sense in hiding anything; he’d probably find out eventually anyway if gossip gets around. Besides, keeping this inside makes you feel like you’re rotting. “Price knows about what me and the lieutenant have been doing in secret and what we did while we were on our last mission,” you admit as you hang your head.

Johnny is silent for a moment. “I fuckin’ knew it,” he says with a chuckle, which he immediately regrets as you pop your head up to give him a heated glare. “No, I… look, jus’ listen ta me for a moment.”

Releasing him from your grasp you take a step back, the anger subsiding to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. Tears burn around the rims of your eyes at how lost you feel and how easily you are flying off the handle; it makes you worried. How are you meant to control this? How are you meant to survive?

Johnny straightens himself up and continues. “Yes, I knew ‘bout ye and the lieutenant…cause I was the one that orchestrated the whole setup. I seen tha way ye two kept eyein’ each other an’ I decided that ye both needed a push in tha right direction. Why the hell would I get ye together only ta get ye in trouble with Price?”

You divert your gaze again. “Well, it’s all over now,” you can barely say aloud; just hearing yourself speak it into existence feels like being stabbed in the chest. “Whoever ratted us out is threatening to go above Price’s head if they need to. There’s nothing left for us to do, but end it or shit’s gonna get worse. It’s already done.”

Fuck, you can’t hold back for much longer and the last thing you need is to cry, but a pair of strong hands clasp around your shoulders to bring you back from the brink of your sadness.

“Look,” Johnny tries to reassure as he is genuinely worried about your wellbeing. “I’ll figure out who it was that stuck their bloody nose in it, alright? Jus’ leave it ta me; I’ll get ye a name and hell, I’ll help ye gut the bastard if ye need. We’ll figure it out, honest.”

Somehow you don’t think anything will come of it, but at least it is something. Right now hope is a drug you have to take just to get through.

Days pass the same way with little variation in your mood. You try to stay as busy as you possibly can, filling your schedule to the brim with as much work as Price can give you. He doesn’t mention it, but everything he assigns you seems to keep you from even crossing paths with your former lover and for that you are grateful. Then a few days become a week and a week becomes two, but time does nothing to stop the ache in your chest and at the end of each day, when you return to your room and the quiet hits you, it’s impossible not to shed a few tears into your pillow as you pine for the company you once had.

Thankfully mission assignments finally go out and you can spend your time consumed in preparation to depart to fill the void that settles in your chest. It’s a couple of days before you are meant to leave and information makes its way through the grapevine that Lt. Riley is headed out tonight with his team and god if it doesn’t kill you not even to get the chance to say goodbye.

You can’t even finish your lunch today; you are so upset by the news that you quickly toss your food into the trash and head out. You’re so wrapped in your thoughts you don’t even hear Johnny calling to you until he has caught up to you outside of the mess hall and is grabbing your elbow to drag you alongside him. Where are you going? You have no clue.

“What are you doing?” you ask with annoyance, not up for whatever bullshit he’s trying to pull today.

“Jus’ keep walkin’,” he says, his head constantly on a swivel as if he is looking for something. You try to protest, but it gets you nowhere as he keeps booking it across the base with you in hand until you both reach the munitions depot where he finally comes to a stop and lets you go.

You look up at the building. “Why are we here?”

“Keep yer head and jus’ go inside,” Johnny says as he gives you a shove towards the door. “Ye only got a couple minutes, so ‘urry the hell up.”

You stare at him with a raised eyebrow. What the hell is he talking about? You really aren’t in the mood for his shit, but you also don’t have the energy in you to fight him on it; you let out a weighted huff and grab the handle, pulling it hard so that the door swings open and you head inside.

“What the fuck am I supposed to be looking for?” you question yourself.

There is movement and you hear the sound of boot steps. “That would be me,” a gravelly voice sounds at your side, making you jump.

You are thrown into respiratory distress as you turn around where you’re greeted with that familiar mask and its wearer is just standing within reach. “Simon,” you breathe his name like a prayer, forgetting decorum.

“Wrangled Mactavish inta helpin’ me, said he’d bring ya and guard the door,” Lt. Riley says as he stands there, unsure of what to do with his hands. “I-” he sighs, “I had ta see ya ‘fore I leave.”

Suddenly the room is spinning and you can’t figure out which way is up. After the agonizing chasm of space that has been put between you it is disorienting to be this close again and you aren’t sure what to do. Do you run into his arms? Do you keep your distance?

It doesn’t make sense.

“I know I shouldn’t have brought ya ‘ere like this,” he says, “but I…missed ya.” He pauses and sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose through the mask. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’. I’m supposed ta follow orders no questions asked, but…”

Standing there, waiting on bated breath, you stare back at him with those big doe eyes until you are able to speak and break the silence. “But what?”

More silence follows your question as he steps closer and closer and closer. Then he stops and there are only inches between your bodies. He reaches out his hand and the backs of his gloved fingers brush against your own with a touch so delicate it doesn’t seem humanly possible, most of all from someone like the lieutenant.

“Priorities are changin’,” he admits as he takes your hand into his grasp hesitantly, eyes unable to look anywhere but at the connection as if he isn’t sure if he should touch you at all. “I never experienced somethin’ like this before. I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Are you saying you want to go against Price?”

His sight lingers on your conjoined hands as his jaw shifts under the mask, struggling to find the words. As he clears his throat, his gaze finally draws back to your face to meet your eyes. He doesn’t have to say anything, you can read the sentiment in his gaze: he is being tortured by being forced to choose between his duty to this task force and what he wants above all else.

“Listen, yeah? As long as we follow orders, we get ta stay near each other. Fight it and who knows what the fuck’ll happen. I…” he pauses, the pain of confession hard to stand, “I don’t know if I can risk not bein’ able to see ya at all, sweetheart. Even just a glimpse cross the way.”

“You think that is better than one of us leaving?” you want to ask, but the question dies on your tongue and in its place is only a bitter taste in your mouth.

You know if you say anything at all it’s only going to make it harder- for the both of you. You are just two soldiers bound by a need to do what is right and nothing is going to change that. Fuck do you want to scream, to rage at what you are being strong-armed into doing against your will, yet your exterior stays a calm mask against the storm inside. The situation puts you between a rock and a hard place and though you don’t want to admit it he is ultimately right; if all you get is to have nothing or what you had before all this mess started, then you would choose the latter.

At least you can still be around one another; at least you can still see him. Even if every time you do it is going to shatter your heart all over again.

Lt. Riley feels like he is being ripped apart as he catches the agonizing pain in your eyes. “I need ya ta know, if circumstances were different…”

You stop him before he can say more by gently placing your hand against his covered lips; you cannot bear to hear anything else about ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’. It’s too painful right now to dream. Accepting reality is the only thing that is going to help you survive now. The lieutenant’s eyes drop to the floor as he comes to terms with the fact that some things are better left unsaid.

Removing your hand from the fabric of his mask, you can feel that recognizable mass welling in your throat and you know you are going to have to leave soon or risk him seeing you cry. That is an image you don’t want to leave him with, not if this is what he has to see before he goes.

“I’m glad I got to see you before you leave,” you say while forcing your best smile for him. “It was hard thinking you’d leave and I wouldn’t get to say goodbye at least.”

He nods as he cups your cheek. “Ya be safe, yeah?”

You lean into his touch and close your eyes; god, it’s hard not to enjoy his touch. “You too.”

Time is slipping away fast like sand through a sieve and he knows that you only have a few short minutes left that you will go unnoticed so he blurts out the question that sits on the tip of his tongue and he can’t stop it from coming out. “One last kiss?” he asks, though he hates himself for doing so.

A ragged breath is pushed out of your lungs as your eyes flutter open. The question is surprising, but you already know the answer; you can’t say no because to deny him would mean denying yourself and your heart won’t let you. His hands paw at your face as his eyes beg.

Your heartbeats mesh together as you press your body against his until they become one rhythm. He keeps his hands locked to your face as you reach up and slip the bottom of his mask up over his lips and rest it on top of his nose. It feels like you are holding your breath and time stops as you again capture his unwavering stare.

“Make it count,” you breathe.

You can feel the shudder from his desperate inhale as he collapses into you like the burst from a dying star, crashing his fiery kiss onto your mouth with an intensity that makes your knees buckle, but he has you. His arms keep you up as he aggressively steals your lips over and over again, pinning his mouth on yours until it burns, stealing your breath, tasting your kiss, letting that gnawing ache that had been festering in his heart eat him alive.

His intensity is matched with your own as you kiss him back with everything that you have. You need the feeling of his lips to be imprinted on yours for as long as they can and you push so hard he cannot catch air. But just as quickly as it started, it has to end.

“Eh, ye need ta ‘urry guys,” the sound of Soaps voice calls from the door, forcefully thrusting you both back into reality. Lt. Riley grips around your biceps and pries himself from you with everything he has and with that he bounds away as you fall to your knees and enfold your arms around yourself like a hug, the tears streaming down your cheeks in heavy, engorged droplets.

He is gone.

The time away does nothing to ease the pain of your separation. Being off base makes your absence in his life even more prominent. You are in his head constantly after that last kiss, haunting him like a ghost that he cannot get rid of and though he knows he should, part of him won’t let go; he can’t. No, that’s not entirely it. Even if he could let go, he won’t.

The lieutenant’s days spent on assignment pass by agonizingly slow and he begins to realize that as much as he enjoys what he does, that it is no longer holding the same importance in his heart as it once did. That feeling has been replaced by something else and that is the way he felt with you. He had thrown everything outside of work to the wayside because never believed that he would get a chance at bits of normalcy in his life. Until you…

What if he is throwing away something that could fulfill him more than his work with the 141? Could he live with that? Whenever he finds himself with a free moment, he spends them silently contemplating that question, mulling it over incessantly in his mind even though he keeps returning to the same conclusion: he can’t live with it.

He would rather regret leaving all this behind if it meant he could be with you than to regret letting you slip through his fingers. And he desperately wants to tell you that he finally knows what to do.

The thought eats at him until one night, as he lays awake staring at the pitch black ceiling, he can no longer take it and without thinking he is digging through his pack to grab his cell phone and just like that the small, square device is in his hand and he is turning it on. As the light pierces through the darkness, missed call after missed call pops up on the screen all from… Mactavish?

It’s only been off for a few hours. What the fuck is going on?

Lt. Riley hurriedly moves himself into a quiet corner away from the others sleeping and quickly redials the number. The repetitive ringing continues until they instantaneously stop and the young sergeant answers with an urgency in his tone that makes the lieutenant’s heartbeat pound in his ears.

“LT, fuck, been tryin’ te get a hold a ye fer a while now,” Soap says over the receiver. “Don’t ye ever answer yer god damn phone?”

The lieutenant tries to speak quietly so that he won’t draw any prying ears into eavesdropping on this conversation. “What the hell sergeant? Ya think I just have all the fuckin’ time to chitchat?”

Soap ignores the lieutenant’s agitation; this is more important and he is risking a lot by even having this conversation at all, so it’s gotta be quick. “ ‘Ave ye spoken te Price? Laswell? Anyone back ‘ere?” he asks as if insisting on a swift answer.

“No,” Lt. Riley confirms. “Haven’t had a need. Why?”

“Fuck, so no one’s said anythin’ te ye yet?” Soap questions as if the fact is distressing him.

“ ‘Bout what? Today, Mactavish,” Lt. Riley says with a hint of unchecked panic in his voice. Nothing about how Mactavish sounds is making the lieutenant feel any better, not the way whatever it is has him flustered like this.

“We ‘ave a situation,” he says firmly and what comes out of his mouth next makes the usually calm and collected lieutenant nearly drop his phone as his entire body goes numb. “The sergeant and her team deployed right after ye, as ye know… all was fine until a few days ago.”

Simon can’t breathe as Soap finishes his sentence. “...we’ve lost contact…they’re all currently MIA.”

Tag list: @flameohotpotatooo @shadowtfpcod @xnyx1n @igotmajordaddyissues @essentialbeats-blog @mishaglass

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satyricplotter · 3 days

Text

pairing: dick grayson x reader

word count: 3.2k (i think?)

warnings: rape mention (as per dick's canon)

notes: i keep thinking of applying one of my favourite manga/manhwa tropes with dick specifically, because it works so well, but i don't particularly care to put in the work of setting up that it'd take for it to land as well as it could. maybe later. as it is, i'll give you the quick rundown because i spent two days writing it lol

something ugly about you has made you undeserving of romance. you have spent your entire life puzzling out what it is and how to fix it. nothing much is special about you: the matter’s far from isolation, or becoming any particular sort of pariah. perhaps that'd be easier to explain. no. people leave you alone, your friends cherish you, your family loves you. it is not that you have not known affection, but that you have and so when you crash against the wall that horrible first time, it hurts all the more.

nothing changes after that. there is always a limit to where your interest can reach, unnamed but palpable. a line you cannot cross. it seems to you as if the entire world has reached a silent consensus during a meeting to which your attendance was not required and your input unnecessary. why would it be? this is not about you. after all, your ability to love has not become impaired. you like people. you’ve fallen in love. but who has ever loved you back?

this one facet of life has been closed off to you entirely, and you’ve been chased away from all attempts to form a romantic bond with unspoken threats of shame and implications of disgust. (a bit much of a display just for the offense of being little old you. you come to regard the matter so as you grow older and start curating some self-respect. it still stings as badly as scrubbing your skin raw under hot water, but not all the loathing is directed inward nowadays.)

regardless, you’ve learnt that you are undesirable, and nothing you can say or do will change that. you must be content with the other shapes that love can take. nothing that you want matters whatsoever.

you meet dick grayson one summer evening under exceedingly normal circumstances. you do not know about heroes or rogues, no batmans or nightwings. the person that crosses the threshold is none other than dick grayson, the handsome young man. suspicion does not cross anybody’s mind, and if it does, it comes only a good couple of thoughts after his darling smile and shapely thighs.

obviously you like him immediately. what’s not to like? he’s gorgeous.

you react to him with the tense wariness of someone hardened by years of useless crushes. trying to avoid him. trying to be normal when you invariably cannot. it’s fine. it’ll be fine.

you still crush on him.

it’s inevitable, at this point. he’s too pretty, too smart, too kind not to draw you in. every interaction comes a rush of exhilarating fear. at times, you manage to subdue yourself into normalcy, hang out with him with as much naturalness as you can muster. but then he does something particularly attractive and you’re back in square one, shoulders drawn together and so short with him he probably gets emotional whiplash. it’s as exhausting for you as it must be for him, and he still reacts to it with grace. it doesn’t help.

through your concerted efforts to be normal, or at least appear as much, you and dick become friends. not great friends, mind you, but good enough that you start hanging out on your own without any of your mutual friends present. and you only spend about three hours total pondering the meaning behind the phrasing of his texts. that’s gotta be some form of progress, right?

he sits at a little table away from the window, and beams when you arrive. coffee’s on him and conversation’s on you. you’ve got more in common than you first thought, but you go back and forth between imagining it must be fate and squashing down delusion, telling yourself you’re blowing it out of proportion.

at one point in time, a beautiful, sultry-looking woman approaches the table.

this sucks, you think, glancing away from dick’s bland mask of politeness. all of it is hopeless and it still sucks.

you and dick tense immediately, like you both know what’s coming. sure as ever, the woman smiles and asks for his number. you look away politely, sip at your drink. the proximity makes it useless to pretend you’re not eavesdropping (though it can hardly be called that when she came to your table), but you take care not to make any faces that’d give away the little storm brewing in your stomach.

you think about running off to the bathroom, get as far as shifting on your seat when dick shoots you a troubled look. the woman’s been at it for a little more than is appropriate. a minute or so more of insistence and she’ll be stretching the boundaries of her own dignity too far. you look away with pressed lips and move your hands under the table.

your alarm beeps.

“oh, shit, dude,” you gasp, hoping to land somewhere in the ballpark of realism. “It’s almost seven. we’ve got to go, or else we’re gonna miss the movie.”

dick gives the woman his apologies and swiftly runs out of the café with you hot on his heels. on the way to the movie theatre, you wanna ask the million questions running through your head—why’d he reject her? didn’t he like her? did he not think she was pretty? who is pretty for him? what’s his taste in partners? is he seeing someone?—but you know it’s a futile endeavor. what will you even get out of that? it’s clear dick didn’t enjoy the interaction either. you make small talk about something else, trying to draw his attention away from whatever conflicted feelings he’s moored in right now. just because you like him doesn’t mean you can’t be a good friend to him.

it’s a short walk. soon enough, he’s all smiles again. in the line for the popcorn stand, another two girls come up to him, this time much younger than you two. he’s nicer with them than he was before, but he rejects them all unequivocally.

“doesn’t it annoy you?” you can’t help but ask. when dick raises an elegant eyebrow, you panic and backpedal so hard you might as well have driven a truck through a storefront.

“a bit,” dick says, ignoring your rambling. you shut your mouth firmly closed when he gives you a sidelong glance, and continues, so very casually, “it’s worse when it comes from a friend rather than a stranger. so many people just try to befriend me because they’re looking for a relationship, or they want access to my body. it’s… tiring. i’m sure you can relate.”

“ah,” you say. your tongue feels numb, but you’re burning up under the weight of his gaze. “no. I don’t really get harassed like that or, um, asked out.”

“huh.” dick blinks. “really?”

“yeah,” you force out. blessedly, the attendant calls your attention. you jostle dick forward. “look, it’s our turn.”

dick orders popcorn. you get a large slushy that you��re not gonna finish. you make him pay. he complies with no question. inside the theatre, you spend all two hours and sixteen minutes of the showing in absolute silence. it is not so strange to be fixated on the movie, but you’re usually a little more chatty. under normal circumstances, you’d eagerly take the opportunity to lean closer to him, whisper something about the main character’s penchant for gummies and its relation to the degradation of the American working class. he’d glance at you and thoughtfully smile, and you’d catch a whiff of his cologne when you straightened. for the rest of the movie, the twinkle of his eye as he forwent the film for your conversation would be all you’d think about.

such is not the case now.

you can tell when you’ve been summarily dismissed. in fact, you appreciate when people are subtle about their rejections. it’s always all the more humiliating when they feel the need to bring it out into the open, like your affections have been so blatant they must be commented on, debated.

the rest of the evening is spent convincing yourself that this is good, that this means it’ll be better for yourself going forward. you’ll be less distracted, if anything. dick’s attempts to discuss the movie with you afterwards fall flat, as the only thing you really want is to get home and stare at your ceiling.

when you’ve reached your apartment door, and are turning to enter after a hurried goodbye, dick calls your name.

“look,” he says, running a hand through his hair unsurely. “I don’t usually do this.”

oh, no. dread fills you up. he’s breaking up with you and you’re not even dating.

you swallow. “dick—”

“I like you a lot,” he interrupts. your teeth clang the way you shut up so fast. in fact, you feel a little dizzy. he continues before you can even process that first sentence. “I think you and I could be really good friends, and I’d love if we could continue seeing each other to, you know, hang out and talk. I do truly appreciate your insight. is that okay?”

you blink fast some three or four times. it must be comical, the face you’re making, because the corner of dick’s lips pulls upward despite him trying to keep a serious air.

“I thought we were already friends…?” you say, at a loss for anything else to say.

“yes!” he beams. “we are.”

“okay,” you respond, perplexed. this is so far out of left field. “um. text me when you’re home?”

“yeah.” he grins. gorgeous grin, to be sure, but why? “for sure.”

“cool.” you give him an awkward thumbs up and scurry inside.

it is… baffling. you spend all of that night wide awake and pondering. dick must’ve misconstrued something, or either you missed a crucial step in your relationship. otherwise the end to that evening makes absolutely no sense. the only thing you can conjure up is that dick must reject a lot of people who, like he said, try to befriend him only to get with him or worse, only to fuck, and it’s not very likely most of those people stay in his life once it is clear he won’t budge on the matter. the fact that you didn’t immediately turn your back on him must’ve come to him as a pleasant surprise.

it’s sad. like, really fucking sad, actually.

that very sadness—and the memory of his handsome, bright grin—turns your outlook inside out. why do you like dick? clearly he’s got the looks and the personality, but do you really know him? what do you know of him? you make a list of things you’ve learned about him in the short time of knowing him. it’s not long.

you come to the conclusion, mortifyingly so, that you don’t, in fact, like dick grayson. that, if anything, the only thing you like is the idea of the boyfriend he could be, which is not the boyfriend that he is (you know nothing about that). it’s the social acumen inherent in bagging such a hottie, and the sparkling sexual attraction bound around it, that really prompt your crushing. it’s not dick as a person. frankly, you think, a little hysterically, could be anyone, really. didn’t even have to be dick. he was just there, the handsomest person in the room. an apt target for the voracious hunger of your heart. you’d mooned and mooned over him for ages and it turns out it wasn’t even about him.

god, you’re such an asshole.

in penance, you endeavor to actually get to know dick without the embarrassment of a crush between you. and it does, in fact, help. dick’s eager to get to know you too, now that you’ve both formally acknowledged you’re friends (such a weird practice, fresh out of kindergarten behavior, but, as you soon find out, dick is weird about plenty and not entirely well-adjusted as an adult). you go on outings together, attend one another’s events, text sporadically throughout the day. you learn which video games dick likes, you tell him which movies are your favorites. it’s fun and light and uncomplicated now that you’ve freed yourself from the constraints of romantic expectation.

not everything’s good. dick’s got bad habits, which grate on you. is it so difficult to put the stupid toilet seat down? can he not learn to chop vegetables in chunks smaller than an elephant’s baby teeth? can he, for the love of god, stop yelling at the tv during horror films? he’s got some serious character flaws, too. you find about those a lot more slowly, but they don’t cause too much trouble.

you fight one or two times due to dick suddenly abandoning you in the middle of an outing with no regard for your safety, and his tendency to get pissy instead of saying whatever’s upsetting him upfront when he knows, you’ve warned him that you’re stupidly thoughtless about your actions at times. all those are things you wouldn’t have come to experience if you hadn’t given the man a chance to actually be a friend. it’s kind of heartening, actually, to have come so far.

sometimes your crush rears up its head in the middle of nowhere. it’s kind of hopeless by now, but you can’t help the fact that dick’s attractive. neither can he, anyway. you just watch him sometimes, the way the sun hits his eyes, lashes sweeping over his cheeks. it makes you go tongue-tied and silly, but the moment always passes. it has to pass. you struggle against it, recall every time dick has upset you or insulted you in one way or the other. some days it’s easy as buttering toast, others you can barely think around the searing heat of your desire. those are bad days for all involved.

one evening, when you’ve grown close enough you’ve begun to think about dick grayson as maybe, possibly, only-if-he-says-so-too your closest friend, he tells you about catalina.

he does it over the phone line, during your almost-nightly calls. over the months, you’ve taken up the practice of teasing him about handsome people he clearly finds attractive in a desperate bid to divert attention and train yourself for when you have to do it for real. this is not one of such cases, and as soon as you realize this, you sober up immediately.

he says it so simply. talks about it like it’s just a hazard of life. there’s a tight hardness at the edge of his voice, but other than that, he speaks like it’s normal Tuesday for him.

not so much for you.

“is it okay if I come over?” you request over the line.

for a moment, the only thing you hear is dick breathe. “yeah,” he croaks, and you’re bolting out the room immediately.

you don’t know how to react to this other than with a shaky sort of desperation. it’s been years since it happened. there’s nothing you can do about it now. there’s something big he’s leaving out, which you notice but don’t point out. a big lump forms on your throat as he speaks. dick tells you when you arrive that the woman is behind bars for an unrelated crime and the only way you stop yourself from wishing ill on her out loud is the fact he looks so politely disjointed, you know your fury will only startle him.

and you feel it so frightfully, the fury.

you love dick, you realize. beyond the fancies and the underlying attraction, you love dick as a person, as a friend. he’s one of yours now.

the evening morphs into a casual sleepover. you don’t interrogate him, and he seems torn between wanting to say more and grateful you’re not prying. you keep yourself open to the possibility, but also try to comfort him as best you can. you make dinner. you put on a movie. you talk and joke and quietly watch. he invites you on the bed with him because his couch is a nightmare to sleep in and his guest room is “unavailable”, whatever that means. you don’t even think about it, just follow.

lying together under the sheets with the lights off, the rest of your feelings bubble up to the surface.

you ask before you clasp his hands between yours and look into his shiny eyes in the darkness. you try to tell him, how this single evening and all those that came before turned over your loyalty to him. how he can come to you for anything he ever wants or needs—your ear, your care, your protection. how much you appreciate his trust and how much you wish you could make anything, everything better for him. how much he deserves it.

“I’ll never leave you now,” you vow with fierce conviction, searching his eyes for any signs of doubt. any other time you would’ve questioned this statement with the sheer weight of infinite possibilities, but not now. tonight, truth is absolute and in your hand. “they will never take me from you. I will always be on your side, by your side. i’m serious, grayson. you’re not getting rid of me.”

a glimpse of a watery smile is the only thing you see before dick throws his arms around you and buries his face in your neck. “couldn’t dream of it,” he whispers into your hair.

you hug him back as tightly as he is, murmuring platitudes and running your fingers through his hair. he falls asleep like that, in the cradle of your arms. he feels secure enough to do so, and you feel both proud and nauseous about it considering the secret you keep.

that he’s told you this at all, that he’s trusted you with such a thing—you know how big it is. you know you can never betray him.

you consider your inherent monstrosity, that little unspeakable thing that bars your from that special kind of love. you understand, firmly, that any desire you feel will never be received eagerly and joyfully. not by him or anyone else. in silent fury, you vow to die before you be like her, to bestow upon this man your grotesque wanting with no regard for his own desire, for the integrity of his being.

that night, you press a kiss to dick grayson’s hair and let him go forever.

the next morning, dick watches as you leave. you turn back one last time to wave at him from the parking lot, a bright smile and tussled hair you didn’t bother to brush. you wear out the clothes he lent you to sleep, so harried last night in your haste to come over that you’d simply forgotten to pack pajamas. he suspects you hadn’t planned to stay the night at all, but he’d been damned if he’d let you go yesterday.

you’re pretty. he’s always thought so, but this morning, you’re prettier than ever. it’s the radiance of your heart shining through.

I will always be by your side, you’d said last night. you’d meant it completely, then. dick had been dazed, overcome. he couldn’t take the brightness of your eyes, the surety of your affection. he’d buried his head in your neck and fallen asleep breathing in the smell of your shampoo. in the morning, he’d woken up with your fingers carding through his hair and the gentle warmth of your body against his.

that was nice. he wonders what he has to do to make it happen again.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dc imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #not that the night life features as anything other than a mention #anyway for those in the know.... this is the chundan 'i like you because you don't have expectations of me'/'im never gonna like ycy' scene #except set up a little differently given there's no isekai happening here #satplotdb

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bigfatbimbo · 1 day

Note

Saw somebody mentioning Vox meeting his assistant Dom in hell and I’m just imagining him doing some PR event, flashing that million dollar smile and shmoozing when he looks into the crowd and freezes.

It’s not uncommon for people not to recognize those who they knew in life because of how crazy the changes can be (he has a tv head for hell’s sake) but he recognizes that posture and that confident, no-nonsense look. It’s kind of like looking at a fun house mirror version of someone he used to know.

At this point, he’s been dead for a while and enough time has passed to establish himself (maybe the vees are already a thing or maybe he’s on the rise) so he’s already put his past behind him in exchange for the new and trendy. But now he’s having a flashback to firm hands, a stern voice, and late nights in his office. He blue screens a bit and has to laugh it off in front of the interviewers.

After: It makes sense that you’d be in hell, maybe you’ve been here a while without him knowing. He remembers how good you were at your job. In life you were resourceful and ruthless, taking pride in doing the impossible.

If you were working for someone else it could cause serious trouble for his company. You could also be a major asset if hired but…

Hell is a lot more lax than 1950s America but he’s built a very specific image for himself and power is EVERYTHING down here. He thought he had rebuilt himself and put it all behind him but this could risk everything.

He’d be careful this time, keep you at a distance. He could have you as a skilled worker AND keep his pride intact. It’s a big company, you won’t even have to be in the same room. And he’s so much stronger than he used to be. He can keep his image, it won’t happen again and he totally isn’t thinking about it.

Maybe the assistant joins, maybe she doesn’t… or maybe she makes him beg

-Friday

Friday anon you have a way with words oh my god because I love this idea so much. Lowkey you really sold this, you’d be a good writer ☝️🤨

But the way this would throw him through a crazy ass loop. Because he’s probably built himself up in his head, and being an overlord with a, quite literally, inhuman amount of power, he definitely has a new standard for himself.

Because now it’s more than just gender roles and fragile masculinity, it’s an even more fragile god complex. So to think he’s grown out of whatever submissive, borderline weak phase he was in during life isn’t exactly out of the question.

Part of him didn’t want to risk it, but you working for another overlord could cause problems. With his new empire on the rise, he could use an efficient, overachiever type of worker. However, the one thing that would change was the dynamic.

Simply put, there wouldn’t be one. Although he could use your help for his business, an arms length distance would be more than appropriate. After all, being seen as weak in hell could have a more dire effect.

Good thing that wouldn’t be a problem; a strong man in life makes a stronger one in death, after all. So he approaches you after the PR event, trying to act as casual as possible, treating as a ‘Y/n, how longs it been!? Decades?” kind of conversation. Acting as if your relationship was never as intimate as it really was.

Thankfully, you knew to go along with his casual tone, just like he trusted you would. However, you went along with it a little too well. His ‘arms length’ approach was working extraordinarily well, however thanks you to you. His plan was to ignore you in hallways, maybe a small wave at best, and only engage when he specifically had too.

But even then, in closed off hallways in the off chance of seeing each other, his small nod would be greeted with absolute silence. Not even a look in his direction. This has happened a few times, no look, no wave, not even a shoulder bump. Scarily formal.

Were you mad? No, you wouldn’t have wasted time being petty. But if nothing you’ve done has been petty, that means you really just didn’t care. You got your work done, at an incredible pace, as per usual, exceeding all other workers. Your name was known throughout the office and the more business deals you closed for Voxtech, throughout the small business clicks of hell.

But you stayed loyal, not to Vox, but to Voxtech. Did that mean you did care? No, Vox supposed, it meant that just as in life, you liked to finish jobs you started, or at the very least not abruptly switch bases. So does that mean you and Vox’s incredibly hot work affair meant nothing to you?

…Because it didn’t to him either. But there were days he’d catch a glimpse of you in the offices working, and he can’t help but let his mind wonder to those late nights. He’d always put up a fight, but you and your stern tone and firm hands elegantly broke him down, each and every time.

The shame he’d felt at being overpowered and conquered by his female assistant, but his hunger for more lingered on his mind just like your perfume lingered through the rooms you exited.

It’d been years, but seeing as it was the hottest sex in his life and death, he’d remembered the little details; the smell of your hair, your hands, the dominance in your voice, your knowing look, your lips, fuck your hands… and now it’s late and most of everybody else is gone. And Vox makes his way over to your office.

Your door is open, but he still knocks his knuckles against the wood, lingering in the door frame, “Knock, knock.”

You recognize the voice, raise an eyebrow, and to Vox’s dismay, barely glance up your paperwork. Setting your mug on your desk, you adjust yourself on the chair, telling him to “Come in.”

“Y/n,” Vox brushes off a speck of lint off his suit jacket and grins, “Thought I’d check on your work. If i’m correct, you have important paperwork to turn in?”

He hoped he was. In all honesty, he didn’t pay much attention to the employees specific jobs unless it purposely inconvenienced or benefited him. Otherwise, he didn’t check what various paperwork was delivered or checked by who.

You smile, “Just finishing up, easy stuff. It’ll be a breeze for you, just a few signatures.”

Setting your papers down, you finally look at him, “Will that be all, sir?”

Vox’s smile drops. No, it shouldn’t be. It simply didn’t feel right for it to be. But your look wasn’t questioning, instead almost amused, as if you were expecting this, and looking forward to his leaving.

Without anything else to do, Vox simply stalled. Did you think to do this? What about this other thing? Well this is nearly impossible so surely you hadn’t done this! But, some things never change. And you had in fact done everything. Not only that, but your smile grew with every task you’ve already accomplished.

Finally Vox snapped. Just as he’s done before, blabbering aimlessly about your overachieving, meaninglessly raising his voice is his facade display of dominance.

Then you stood up, and considered his outburst. “You know, i’ve been getting other offers. Companies who ‘care’ more. Pay more,” he goes silent, “You want me to stay?”

He nods, going to say something else before you cut him off.

“Anything else you want?” you drawl, backing him into the door.

“Hold on—“

“Beg.” And he does.

#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #dom reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin vox x reader

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everscorner · 24 hours

Text

Something In The Way You Move | The Redemption

Author’s note: I struggled writing this next instalment, and there was a lot of chopping and changing, so apologies for the late update. There’s one final part after this, and the plan is to have it out by mid-May. In terms of their apartment, this is how I pictured it but feel free to switch it up. This is only for fictional purposes only, but please don’t copy my work without my permission. Enjoy 🤎

Warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive/implied smut, bad language, couple reconciling, side chick confrontation, some relationship issues, minors DNI (let me know if I missed anything)

famous!Reader x Jude Bellingham Word count: 8k words

///

‘So, Bestie,’ Winnie starts, ‘what’s the plan? And how are we going to pull this off?’

That’s a good question: how will you break the big news to Jude? It’s been five torturous days since the positive pregnancy test and you’re yet to tell him about it. The timing just hasn’t been right, and the next bit’ll sound silly, but you’ve kept this from him because you don’t want to take the attention from him.

His first season at Real Madrid has exceeded all your wildest expectations, and you just wanted him to celebrate it all without detracting from it with the baby news.

Girlfriend of the Year, right?

‘To be honest, Wins, I haven’t thought about it.’

You’re standing in the kitchen waiting for the water in the kettle to boil and Winnie’s in the living room, her limbs stretched out on the sectional as she mindlessly browses through one of the coffee table books.

Your best friend’s in town for work, and earlier today, she actually filmed a couple of scenes with you for the show, and that’s when you told her about the pregnancy.

Off camera, of course. However, looking back at the moment, you regret not filming it.

Between filming your scenes, you quietly pulled Winnie to the side and showed her the sonogram you now carry around in your bag, and her reaction was exactly what you expected it to be and more. There was squealing, excited jumping, and there were lots and lots of tears shed between the two of you.

‘Okay, well, when do you plan to tell him?’

Tonight. You think enough time has passed and yesterday, you went to your first doctor’s appointment and confirmed that you were indeed pregnant, but despite your excitement, you kept the news from Jude because you wanted the announcement to be well thought out—special.

Also, there has been so much distance between you, you’re hoping that the baby news could be the catalyst to bring you two together because you kinda miss being close to him.

‘I’ll be honest with you, Y/N/N, that doesn’t give us much time to plan it.’

Winnie makes a good point, but you’re not looking for perfection, all that matters is that he knows.

‘Well,’ the kettle boils and you walk over to where it sits on the counter to grab it, ‘it depends on what we decide on.’

You start pouring the boiling liquid into the cups.

‘My only request is that we incorporate the sonogram.’

‘Wouldn’t it be cute if we could find a pair of infant football boots?’

It’s kinda cheesy—very cheesy, actually—but you like the idea. A lot.

‘Yeah, that’s a good idea. We’re getting somewhere with this.’

It’s almost hard to believe that you’re standing here, plotting out a way to tell Jude that you’re expecting.

If someone had come up to you the night you first met him and told you that in two years, you’d be standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment in Madrid, planning a pregnancy reveal, you would’ve called them a liar.

Excuse your French, but. . . ‘Holy fuck, Wins, I’m pregnant.’

It’s like it’s hitting you for the first time.

Winnie laughs, amused by your sudden realisation. ‘I can’t explain it, right? But it feels like a teen pregnancy.’

There’s no need for her to explain it further ‘cause you know exactly what she means. When you first saw the positive pregnancy test—you know, after your initial shock—you first panicked about how your family would react to the news.

You had to take a moment to stop and remind yourself that even though you’re still so young, you’re more than capable of raising this child.

With Jude’s assistance, of course.

‘Do you want to record it?’

‘Record what?’

You take the steaming mugs from the island and make your way over to the living room, where you place them onto the coffee table.

‘The moment you tell him. Not for Netflix,’ she clarifies, ‘but you know, home videos or whatever.’

Yeah, you’re definitely keeping this one in the family. Maybe if the show gets renewed for a second season. . . but you’re jumping the gun.

‘I want to, but’ you look around the ostentatiously decorated main living space ‘where can we put the camera? I don’t want him to see it.’

‘We’ll figure it out.’

Winnie’s composure is just what you need right now. You can always count on her to be calm in stressful situations.

‘Is your camera charged?’

You’ll have to check. It’s been some time since you last used it. Part of your job is that you’re a part time YouTuber, it’s something you dabble in because you like filming and editing. . . all that jazz, but lately, your channel has taken the backseat.

Why vlog this period of your life when they can catch it on Netflix when the show comes out?

‘Come,’ Winnie shifts to make space for you on the couch.

You take your seat next to her and by the time you settle, she’s already got her phone out, with her Pinterest open.

‘What’s that for?’

‘Well, something’s got to inspire us.’

Duh. It must be the pregnancy fog.

‘Don’t worry,’ she assures. ‘We’ve got this.’

And got this you do. A half hour and two cold teas later, there’s a plan, but this plan requires you to leave the house.

Booooo!

You’re not too keen on the impromptu outing, but there are baby football boots to be bought, and at least you’ll have Winnie there with you.

‘Well, that was easy.’

You beg to differ, but whatever.

Winnie locks her phone and sets it on the couch, ‘When’s The Boy coming home?’

You’re not sure when it started, but Winnie now refers to Jude as “The Boy” which you find to be endearing.

Probably late. He’s out with Toby and Noah, and he mentioned something about his other teammates joining them, but you weren’t really paying attention.

‘I’m not sure.’

And it’s not something you wish to discuss further because the thought fills you with dread. It’s been days since your discovery but given the circumstances, there has been no time to sit down and talk about Coralie.

The result of that is that whenever he goes out—and he’s been going out plenty to celebrate his victorious season—you can’t help but feel anxious that he might cheat on you again.

Surely this is no way to live.

‘But it doesn’t matter, does it?’ you rise off of the couch and start for the bedroom.

Naturally, Winnie’s trailing after you and you just know that this conversation is far from over. She’s persistent.

‘It doesn’t, but I think you should ask him.’

She makes it sound so simple. And you guess it is simple, he is your boyfriend after all, it’s your privilege to call or text him whenever and wherever.

‘We don’t want any surprises.’

You don’t, but if he does walk into something he’s not supposed to walk into, that’s all on him.

‘I don’t think it’s necessary, really.’

Inside the walk-in closet, you start stripping out of your house sweats to change into something appropriate. Once upon a time, you could leave your house in your house clothes without the fear of being pasted on the MailOnline and labelled “dowdy” and “unkempt”.

But that was a long time ago.

‘Oooh, what’s this?’

Winnie finds herself distracted by the Chloé box that’s sitting on the closet island.

‘Oh, yeah, that’s a PR box they sent me on Monday,’ you state matter-of-factly.

She opens it and gasps when she sees what’s inside the large box.

‘What the. . .’

‘It’s crazy, right?’

She turns to you in utter disbelief. ‘They gifted these to you?’

You hum.

She grunts and confesses, ‘I’m so jealous of you right now.’

Twelve full sized perfumes, all gifted to you by the brand.

You tell her to take a bottle, and of course, she’s over the moon. And it earns you the title of World’s Best Best Friend.

‘Well, I still think you should text him,’ she states as she tests the different scents.

And here you thought she had forgotten about that.

‘Just so we have an idea.’

You don’t really want to send the text, but you don’t want to raise any alarms with your friend. Lately, things between you and Jude have been far from perfect, but you’d prefer to keep your relationship problems from the world—even if it’s Winnie and she’s your best friend.

‘Yeah, alright.’

Your phone’s in the living room, so you have to leave the closet to grab it, and when you come back, Winnie’s discovered your new Chanel handbag—a gift from Jude.

‘He bought this for you?’

‘Yeah,’ but you’re not trying to make a big deal of it.

Jude bought the bag for you about a month ago. At the time, it seemed so random—his urge to buy such an expensive gift on a whim—, but after seeing those text messages, you know it was the guilt that made him do it.

‘Lucky bitch.’

‘I’ve been telling you to bag yourself a baller,’ you tease as you take your seat on one of the ottomans.

You: Hey, when are you coming back tonight?

You read over the text to make sure you’re not coming off as desperate. . . a nag. But whatever, the text needs to be sent, and the way he interprets it is up to him.

He doesn’t immediately respond, but you don’t expect him to. He never does when he’s out.

You take a final look in the mirror. You look so good, it’s almost hard to believe that the look was put together in ten minutes. And you’d take a picture to post on your story, but there’s no time for that now.

‘You ready, Wins?’

She smiles, ‘Ready.’

‘Alright then, let’s go.’

///

When he did finally respond to your text, Jude said that he’d try to be home by midnight, which gave you more than enough time to prepare for the reveal.

For her visit, Winnie will be staying at the apartment with you, but she’s gone out because she’s not pregnant and she’s actually got a life. However, she did help you set everything up for the reveal, which you appreciated because she came with all the good ideas.

Like she suggested that you do it in your closet as opposed to the kitchen, where you had initially planned to do it, because the lighting and acoustics were better.

And now it’s a little past eleven o’clock and you’re rewatching an old episode of your favourite series. Earlier in the night—after Winnie left—you filmed a night time routine vlog for your TikTok, which you should be working on editing, but can’t be bothered about.

Waiting for Jude to come home has reduced you to a ball of anxiety, and despite your eyelids getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute, you simply can’t make yourself fall asleep. However, one thing’s certain, no pregnancy reveal will be done tonight.

Damn him, and damn your feelings for him.

You can’t believe he’s once again ditched you for his friends this week. It’s disrespectful at this point, but the worst part?

You keep allowing him to get away with it.

But what can you do, leave him? As if that’s an option for you. The love you feel for him runs so deep, you can’t bring yourself to imagine a life without him in it, especially with the baby coming. So apologies to all the feminists of the world, but your love for this man surpasses all reasoning.

Your phone dings with a notification and you quickly grab it, hoping to find a text from him—you’ll take an incoherent drunken text at this point, anything—but instead it’s Winnie asking if he’s home yet.

Fuck.

You: Not yet, but soon :)

You hope.

She’ll never confront you about it, but you think that Winnie suspects that things aren’t good between you and Jude. The lack of calls and texts throughout the day was a dead giveaway. The two of you can’t get enough of each other, and even when you’re apart, you’re constantly updating each other one way or another so the silence was deafening.

But whatever, right?

People across the world experience relationship problems every day. You’re not the first couple to experience this, and you’re certainly not the last. You just wish that your relationship problems weren’t because he stepped out on you.

‘Babe?’

And now your mind’s playing tricks on you, because you swear you can hear him–

‘Y/N?’

Oh shit, he’s home!

You quickly reach for your phone to check the time: 11:26.

Fuck!

In the last text you sent him almost an hour ago now, you gave him strict instructions to text you before he left the club.

Guess he didn’t catch that text.

‘Baby?’ he calls for you again, but his voice sounds distant, so you figure you have enough time to do what it is that you have to do.

But you’ve got to move fast, so you clamber off of the bed, and scurry to your closet. You head straight to the camera, which you’ve carefully propped on your Louis Vuitton jewellery box, and switch it on to start recording.

This probably isn’t the best of angles, but so long as it captures his reaction, hopefully with his face in the frame.

‘Baaaaybeeee?’

His voice sounds closer now.

‘In the closet, babe,’ you finally call back, then internally brace yourself for what’s to follow.

With Jude, the plan was always to get married and have children, but the when was never discussed in detail.

‘Why are you hiding in here?’

Some of that anxiety leaves your body at the sight of him. He’s beaming at you, so visibly happy to see you.

‘Hiya.’

This man has seen you in all kinds of vulnerable situations, why are you so shy all of a sudden?

As he closes the distance between you, you notice that his eyes are kinda red and glossy, the only sign of his intoxication. When he reaches you, his smile widens—if that’s even possible—and he leans forward to connect your foreheads.

‘Hi, gorgeous.’

He smells of mint with the faint scent of alcohol, and a smell you can only describe as Jude on a night out.

With your eyes shut, you deeply inhale the comforting scent, happy to have him back home.

‘Hey, why are you hiding in here?’ he asks again, his words running into each other, the second sign.

‘Uh, ‘cause.’

You weren’t anticipating that question, and you don’t know how to answer it.

‘“‘Cause?”’ he chuckles.

You hum.

‘Come here,’ he envelops you in his large and strong arms, practically suffocating you but you can’t bring yourself to tell him to release you because you’ve missed his affection and the intimacy.

You fear you’re starting to sound like a broken record.

‘How was it?’

‘How was what?’

‘The club?’

‘Fine.’

And that’s all he’s willing to offer.

‘I thought you said Winnie was staying over?’

She is, she’s just gone to a party with the new guy she’s seeing.

‘And you didn’t join her?’

‘No.’

You give him a half-baked explanation for why you didn’t, but all you’re thinking is how this isn’t going the way you hoped for it to go. This isn’t what the other significant others did in the videos you watched earlier.

But how do you save it?

‘Why are you asking about her?’

‘Just curious, I guess.’

‘Alright then,’ you fist his jacket in your hand. ‘It’s good to have you back home.’

He likes that, you know that because his heart rate picks up. Things are still a bit awkward between you, but that’s to be expected since you haven’t been talking much.

With your arms around his neck, you press onto your toes and crane your neck to peck him on the lips. ‘And actually, babe, there’s something I want to show you.’

Jude tenses up at that, but it’s so subtle, if you weren’t in his arms, you would’ve missed it.

‘You do?’

And like magic, he’s sobered up. Only a bit though.

‘Don’t worry,’ you assure him, amused. ‘It’s nothing bad.’

Your assurance does nothing to ease his wound up body.

‘Jude, relax. . . please.’

Still tense. Whatever, you won’t dwell on his anxiety.

With a final peck to his lips, you step away from him and direct his attention to the island, where the football booties you went out to buy earlier are placed next to a toddler Real Madrid jersey, a positive pregnancy test—you took another one a couple of hours ago—and the sonogram.

‘Surprise,’ you say softly.

You want to sound excited, but it just comes out dejected.

You watch as he takes it in, your heart hammering against your chest. Unfortunately for you, you only have a view of his side profile but even from this angle, you can see that his usually expressive face is perfectly still. You can’t read him, and it feels like an eternity before he turns to face you.

‘Is this for real?’

You nod, the lump that has found a home in your throat making it hard to speak. Your vision’s also blurred, courtesy of the tears that have pooled in your eyes.

‘It is?’

The first tear falls.

‘Oh, baby.’

Jude lifts you into his arms and squeezes all the air from your lungs.

Man, he’s so strong.

Then he sort of holds you like that for a long time, and the next thing you know, your neck is damp.

‘Babe, are you. . are you crying?’

He denies it, but you can feel the damp spot grow with each passing second you’re in his arms. Oh goodness, he is.

‘I think you are.’

‘Shut up,’ he mutters, his voice muffled.

You giggle when he tickles you.

His reaction’s quite the relief and it feels like a ginormous load has been lifted off your shoulders. In terms of his reaction, you weren’t sure what to expect, but this is the best reaction possible, and as he holds you, all the lingering resentment about his past transgressions are forgotten.

Eventually, he sets you down to reveal his red rimmed eyes and similarly hued nose.

‘How far along are you?’

Seven weeks and three days today, according to your doctor. When Dr Hernandez told you, you couldn’t believe you were so far along and didn’t notice.

‘That’s what, almost two months?’

In defence of you though, between your work and Jude’s chaotic football schedule, you’ve been out of touch with your body.

‘Did you know?’

‘I suspected it.’ You tell him about the morning after that night when you noticed that your period was late. ‘I wanted to tell you, but I wanted to take the test first.’

‘And why didn’t you tell me after?’

‘I wanted the doctor to confirm it.’

You’ve grown so tired of standing, so you sit on the carpeted floor of the closet, and Jude joins you, pushing the ottoman to one side so that he can lean against the island.

‘I called Dr Morena who referred me to Dr Hernandez.’

He scowls, ‘Who’s that?’

‘My obstetrician.’

The scowl deepens.

You sigh, ‘The doctor who’ll care for me during the pregnancy.’

‘Oh.’ With his legs spread and stretched out before him, he pulls you into him and sets you between them. ‘And you said that Dr Morena referred you to this. . .’

‘Obstetrician.’

‘Yeah, that.’

You hum in agreement as you rest your back against his torso.

Dr Morena is your family GP.

There’s a silent beat then he asks, ‘So he knew before me?’

‘Winnie too,’ you turn your head so that you’re partially facing him. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Winnie knew before me?’

The offence is evident in his voice.

‘I had to tell her,’ you defend, but this isn’t where you want to steer the conversation. ‘She helped me set this all up.’

He grunts.

‘Are you mad at me?’

‘Kinda.’

Well, now you feel bad.

‘I’m sorry,’ you sit up and turn to face him, maintaining eye contact as you explain, ‘Had I known it would’ve offended you, I wouldn’t have done it.’

But she was so integral in all of this, a part of you’s glad you did. . .

‘Oh, come on, Jude.’

He’s pouting, your big baby.

‘Cheer up, will you?’ you straddle him, cupping his face to gently stroke his cheek with your thumb. ‘I’m really sorry.’

It’s about another minute of silence and avoided eye contact, and you’re about to give up and on the verge of tears when:

‘Babe, I’m only messing with you.’

A quiet beat, then there’s relief, followed by loud laughter.

‘That wasn’t funny,’ you grouse, slapping him lightly on his chest. ‘I almost cried, you know.’

‘Come here,’ he pulls you into him.

The traces of alcohol still linger in his speech, but he’s significantly sobered up since he got home ten minutes ago.

‘I can’t believe you’re pregnant.’

And you can’t remember the last time Jude was this excited about something outside of football. His reaction almost makes you wish you had waited to share the news with him on his birthday, but that wouldn’t have worked because he’ll be in Germany then with the national team for the Euros.

‘What are you thinking?’

‘How the pill doesn’t work a hundred percent,’ you pull away.

But then again, with all the jet setting you’ve been doing, you probably weren’t taking it at the same time every day.

With a flash of his signature smile, he concurs.

‘My knees are starting to hurt,’ you announce as you move off of his lap and back to your previous spot between his legs.

Jude places a hand over your stomach, and with your hands over his larger ones, you move them lower to the pelvic area.

‘There.’

He chuckles. ‘You know, I always dreamed of being a young dad.’

You didn’t know this about him.

‘Not at twenty-one,’ he continues, ‘but you know, in my twenties.’

It’s comforting to know that this baby fits into his life plan.

‘How about you?’

‘I don’t know,’ you admit after a moment of consideration.

You’re still wrapping your head around the turn your life’s taken. The WAG thing kinda blindsided you, the fame too. The craziest part of this all is that you’ve made a career of it, built an entire brand.

‘But I’m not mad at this plot twist.’

‘Our kid’s a plot twist?’ he chuckles.

You nod. ‘Clearly we weren’t paying attention in sex education.’

He kisses the top of your head.

‘Dr Hernandez said that the baby’s about the size of a blueberry,’ you tell him.

It’s such a random fact, but you feel compelled to share it with him.

‘That’s really tiny.’

‘Right?’

Jude keeps rubbing over the area, and you have an inkling he’ll make a habit of this.

Some minutes pass, and then you remember that the camera’s still going, so you excuse yourself from Jude.

‘Where’re you going?’

His grip is firm around your waist.

‘I’m going to get the camera.’

He looks confused, but he releases you. On bended knees, you shuffle over to the other end of the island to quickly grab it, but you don’t stop the recording. When you get back to Jude, you find him in a daze, silently staring at the sonogram in his hand.

‘She’s so tiny,’ he comments when you sit at your previous spot, facing him.

‘She?’

Talk about wanting to be a girl dad.

‘You think the baby’s a girl?’

He looks up to find a camera in his face. ‘What, you think it’s a boy?’

You shrug, you haven’t actually given it much thought. ‘Well, do you think you can handle a mini me?’

He makes a face.

‘Ah, take it back,’ you giggle.

He takes the camera and turns the lens to you. ‘Well, now I’m asking you. Y/N, do you think Baby Bellingham’s a girl or a boy?’

You pause to think about it. A mini you or a mini Jude, how difficult. ‘Well, I’m going the opposite, I think Baby Bellinghamʼs a boy.’

You snuggle into him, ear pressed against his chest, camera still in your face, but you’re both in the frame. One fact people don’t know about your boyfriend is that he’s a master vlogger, and he’s actually recorded many segments for your vlogs that will never see the light of day because when it comes to Jude, you’re a shameless gatekeeper.

‘I want to shower before bed,’ he proclaims once the recording has stopped. ‘Join me?’

You’ve already taken your shower, but you figure a second one wouldn’t hurt. Jude takes your hand and leads you out of the closet and into the bathroom, where you strip out of your clothes.

‘Is it my imagination, or are your boobs getting bigger?’

Huh?

You look down at your exposed breasts, ‘Are you joking?’

‘No, I’m not,’ with a hand on each shoulder, he turns you towards the mirror. ‘Look.’

You’re looking at them, but they still look the same to you, but he’s adamant. Then, in a move you deem perverted—in a good way, of course—, he cups them in his hands.

‘What are you doing?’ At this point, you can’t contain your laughter.

‘How are you not seeing this?’

He must’ve drank more than you realise, because what the fuck is this?

‘Are you high?’

His face twists with disapproval, ‘No, why?’

‘The boobs,’ you turn to him, ‘what’s with the sudden fascination with them?’

‘I like your boobs, you know this.’

You do. And you like his butt.

‘Come,’ you wrap your hand around his wrist and pull him into the shower. ‘I think you’re tired.’

And horny.

You turn the faucet to run the water.

As you’d imagine, not much showering is done.

‘Careful not to wet your hair,’ you warn him, but it’s too late.

‘I don’t care,’ he says flippantly as he takes your face between his hands and leans over to kiss you.

This is not what you came here to do.

You’re both covered in suds.

‘Jude, I need to rinse my body.’

‘Later,’ he mutters against your lips.

‘Jude!’ you squeal.

He’s such a Silly Billy when he wants to be.

You gasp into his passionate kiss when you suddenly feel the cold shower wall against your back. In a swift and slick movement, Jude trails kisses across your left shoulder and you tilt your head to one side to give him better access to your neck.

A soft moan escapes your parted lips as he sucks on the sensitive skin.

‘Jude. . .’

You want to tell him to stop, but the hand on his naked lower back pulls him into to you.

He hums into the kiss as his hand moves up your body to cup your boob, ‘Tonight, you’ve made me the happiest man alive.’

His vulnerability catches you off guard, how can you not give into him. . .

///

For breakfast this morning, you’re making honey butter toast using a recipe you found on the internet. It’s your first time making it and you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing here, but Jude saw it on Pinterest the other week and begged you to make it, so that’s what he’ll have for breakfast.

It’s a simple enough recipe, but knowing you and your iffy cooking skills, this could either be a major success or an epic fail—nothing in the middle. If it does fail though, you’ve got the regular bacon and egg fry-up on standby.

But only positive thoughts in this kitchen.

You’ve got your favourite morning playlist going softly in the background, and today’s what you consider the perfect Saturday morning. The sun is fully out, and the expansive windows of the apartment allow for the natural light to pour into the space and warms it.

You put the toast into the oven and set the timer.

At the end of the summer, your lease for this apartment will be up, but the likelihood of you extending it has significantly shrunk with the latest development in your life. The song goes, “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Y/N with a baby carriage,” but you’ve skipped parts, so some things need to be shifted around.

That means that the house hunting that you’ve been putting off needs to start. . . now, really.

This is where Coralie comes in handy, but you’re not talking to her. She actually reached out to you Sunday morning to apologise for your awkward encounter at the restaurant that night. Her text read:

Coralie: Last night, I overstepped and I’m really sorry and embarrassed by my actions. Please forgive me.

You’re yet to respond to the text, but you don’t plan to anytime soon because you don’t accept her stupid apology. As far as you’re concerned, she’s an insignificant homewrecker. She is two-faced and vindictive and incredibly cruel for subjecting you to such humiliation.

She laughed with you, acted like a friend when she was fucking your man behind your back for six months.

‘Bitch,’ you mumble as you load the dishes into the wash.

But she’s not worth the time, emotions, nor the energy. So with a deep breath, you bop thoughts of her out of your mind, and move on with your day.

Easy.

A half hour later, breakfast is ready to be served. You’ve gone all out with this meal, and it would be an absolute shame to not take a picture to post onto your IG story. Very quickly, you snap a picture to post later, and take the food to your sleeping boyfriend before the ice-cream starts to melt.

He’s still fast asleep, but he’s since shifted sleeping positions, and he’s hugging your pillow.

How cute?

When he wakes up, you expect him to be hungover and grouchy from all his boozing, and you just know he’ll play it up for attention. If there’s one thing you know about your boyfriend it’s that he dies for attention, and he simply cannot resist being babied.

‘Wakey wakey sleepyhead.’

You place the heavy tray onto the bedside table, on the other side of it to avoid it getting bumped by mistake, and attempt to wake him again.

Still, nothing.

‘Jude,’ you mount him, peppering a million tiny kisses against the side of his pretty face. Even in his slumber, he looks perfect. ‘Come on, you got your eight hours, it’s time to wake up.’

He grunts, then sends you away.

‘But I got food,’ you object with feigned sadness.

But he doesnʼt budge.

Alright, sweet coaxing out the window. ‘Babe, I made honey butter toast and the ice-cream’s rapidly melting. Wake up.’

There’s another silent beat and then, ‘What the hell is that?’

Of course he doesn’t remember what it is.

‘Honey butter toast,’ you repeat, as if it’ll somehow miraculously make him know what it is. ‘That bread you saw on Pinterest and begged me to make.’

He’s still clueless, but at least you’ve got his attention. Finally, with a long groan, he sits up, moving cautiously to not send you tumbling to the floor.

‘What time is it?’

‘Ten.’

He cusses softly as he rubs his face. ‘I’m supposed to meet with my parents at eleven.’

You didn’t know that.

But it’s clearly nothing pressing because he doesn’t seem fazed by the fact that he’s running late. He yawns, rubs his eyes and face some more, then turns to you—sitting comfortably on his lap—and smiles. ‘Good morning.’

You mirror his expression. ‘Morning. You hungry?’

‘Starving. What’s for breakfast?’

‘Here,’ you slide off his lap to take the tray and hand it to him. ‘It’s my first time making it, so be nice.’

He assesses the tray of food you’ve placed before him, then looks back up at you. ‘Nine out of ten for the presentation.’

Your brows furrow, ‘Why not ten?’

‘Some of the ice-cream has melted and it looks a bit sloppy.’

‘Yeah, and who’s fault is that?’

He lets out a hearty laugh, but you’re not amused by this judge.

You climb back onto the bed, your eyes fixed on Jude as he puts the first forkful of the honey butter toast, with a little bit of the vanilla ice-cream and salted caramel sauce, into his mouth.

He chews, then he moans, his eyes widen, more chewing, and then finally, he swallows.

This is a good reaction.

‘You like it?’

‘I love it,’ he cuts another piece of the toast. ‘Ten out of ten for the taste. Did you make the ice-cream and caramel sauce yourself?’

‘Alright, Paul Hollywood.’ You grab the extra fork you had on the tray and dig in—curious about the taste—and are met with protests from Jude. ‘I just want a little taste.’

‘Get your own.’

Your bottom lip juts out, it’s your turn to pout. ‘Yeah, but I’m pregnant.’

With a heavy sigh, he proclaims, ‘And so it starts.’

You can’t help but laugh at his solemn tone.

The two of you remain in bed, even after he’s finished having his breakfast, because his outing with his parents has now been postponed to two o’clock. If it were any other day, you’d join them, but you promised to accompany Winnie to the art gallery and you don’t think you can get out of it.

Turning into your side, Jude questions, ‘Why does she have to go to the art gallery?’

Because she’s in her art girl era, inspired by her latest fling, an up-and-coming visual artist from Portugal. His name’s Baltasar, and they met at Coachella a couple months back, and lately, he’s all she ever talks about. You think she’s in love.

‘A visual artist?’

‘Yep.’

‘So he’s broke?’

‘Hey, don’t be mean,’ you chide.

He doesn’t care though, he thinks it’s funny.

‘You’re such an asshole, d’you know that?’

‘Babe, I’m just kidding.’

Yeah, right.

‘Well, she really likes him so if she mentions it to you, keep the bad jokes to yourself.’

‘Noted,’ his mouth connects with your cheek.

The conversation smoothly transitions from Winnie’s new boyfriend to Jobe, who’s relentlessly trying to convince his older brother to take a short trip to Ibiza before he has to report for international duty. You think it’s a great idea, a final hoorah before it gets serious again.

‘Will you come with?’

‘Ibiza sober? Count me out.’

‘I’ll drink for the both of us.’

‘Uh, definitely not,’ your fingers glide up and down his naked back. ‘And I think Jobe wants this to be a boy’s trip. No girlfriends.’

‘But you’re not my girlfriend.’

Huh? ‘I’m not?’

‘You recently got upgraded to baby mum.’

He’s an idiot. Who even laughs at their own jokes this much? Either way, you’re not going to Ibiza with them. It’s another half hour of mindless chatter before you ask,

‘What time is it?’

‘Early.’

‘Jude, I’m being serious,’ you reach blindly for your phone and find it on the other end of the bed. ‘I need to start getting ready.’

‘Can’t you postpone it for another day?’

‘Winnie leaves tomorrow night.’

But he’s not budging, and so you have to use all of your might to shove him off of you.

Your strength leaves him shook. ‘Where’d that come from?’

‘It’s all those training sessions you’re paying for.’

He swells with pride—men.

‘Will you join me?’

Jude perks up.

‘But we’re only showering, nothing else.’

And he’s dejected.

‘I’ll just sit on the side and watch.’

That’s fine by you.

He follows you into the bathroom, and you think you hear him mumble something about you making it worth his while.

///

What your gallery date conveniently forgot to mention was that Baltasar would be joining your gallery excursion. Had you known he’d be here, you would’ve asked Jude to tag along so it could be a double date or something.

Jude: How’s it going? 🖼️

You’re miserable here, and you’re pretty sure you’re third wheeling. And look, you want to be supportive of your best friend, right? But it’s so hard to be when the guy she’s seeing’s the textbook definition of an asshole.

You’re one pretentious comment away from faking morning sickness to get out of this.

You: I’m having the worst time

You: The art is great, but he’s so smug 🙄

And he’s rude, so rude, and he’s determined to talk over you.

Jude: The artist? 🎨🧑‍🎨

You: Yeah, I don’t think he likes me :/

And you’d actually be doing him a favour by leaving, you’d be doing you both the favour because at this point, you feel like you’re intruding and you’re starting to feel awkward.

Jude: Well fuck him

His text makes you chortle.

At least Winnie’s making an effort to include you. Every now and again, she’ll ask for your opinion on certain pieces, but in the end, you just can’t do it.

You can’t be here anymore.

‘Hey,’ you lightly tap Winnie’s shoulder.

She turns to regard you, ‘Hey, what’s up?’

‘Can I talk to you for a second?’

‘Sure.’

She excuses herself from Baltasar, who’s really displeased with your intrusion, and you find a quiet corner.

‘Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah, everything’s fine, the art’s great, but I’m not feeling too hot.’

‘Oh no,’ her brows knit in concern, ‘is it morning sickness?’

She’s buying it, good.

‘I think I’m going to head home, you know, to lie down for a couple hours.’

‘Yeah, alright,’ she takes your hand in hers and lightly squeezes it.

‘But how will you get back to the apartment?’

You are her ride home after all.

‘I was planning on spending the rest of the afternoon with Baltasar,’ she looks over her shoulder at him and when she looks back at you, she’s blushing, ‘but what about you? Are you fine to drive in your condition?’

‘It’s just a little nausea, I promise I’ll be fine.’

It takes a minute to convince her, but you don’t relent, and in the end, you manage to convince her.

‘Now go,’ you nudge her towards her waiting love interest. ‘Have fun with your boyfriend–’

‘Uh, he’s not my boyfriend,’ she quickly interjects, her voice dropping to a scolding whisper.

You smile knowingly, sure he isn’t.

‘What makes you say he’s my boyfriend? Did he say something to you?’

‘No, but I saw the way you were looking at him,’ you shrug, ‘the way he was looking at you.’

Winnie’s uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden.

‘I’ve clearly misread the situation,’ you start backing away from her. ‘But we’ll talk more about it later, okay?’

‘Promise to text me when you get home.’

‘I pinky promise to call you when I get home,’ you blow her a kiss.

You wave goodbye to Baltsar, who seems pleased to see you go, and then you’re out of there.

It’s a short drive home from the gallery, and you’re glad to be back home, but you wish Jude was here with you.

You: I miss you.

As soon as the message’s sent, you regret sending it. But you can always blame pregnancy for making you so clingy.

You fall back onto the bed with a long exhale. What to do with your time? You could watch a movie or you could go the self-care route.

The other day, a skincare brand sent you a few collagen face masks you’ve been dying to try. It’s one of those that melts into your skin. And since you’re on that path, you can also soak in the tub ‘cause you haven’t done that in a while. And if you’re really up to it, maybe you can do your nails.

But first:

You: Got home safe. Have fun with your friend ;) can’t wait to hear about it later x

Jude misses you too. He’s also still with his parents but should be home before dinner.

You: Did you tell them about… 🫄

Jude: No. I thought we’d do it together.

That’s a good plan.

You: Great idea. I’ll see you later, I love you x

Jude: I love you more 😘

Dinner time’s a while away, so you’ve got plenty of time to have your self-care afternoon.

The tub is halfway full, the bubbles foaming, the steam and aroma engulfing the space when your phone notifies you that someone’s at the door.

Your body’s sheathed by a robe, but you still feel indecent as you make your way to the door.

The doorbell goes off a second time just before you reach the door, and when you open it, the last person you expect to find standing on the other side of it is Coralie.

Yes, Coralie’s at your door and she looks like. . . Well, she looks like shit.

‘Y/N,’ she forces her lips into a tight smile. ‘Hi.’

The shock has you frozen for a moment, but you’re quick to recover. ‘Jude’s not home.’

You’re curt because you want her out of your sight and you’ve left the water running in the bathroom.

‘I know he isn’t.’

She does?

‘I’m not here to see Jude, I’m actually here to see you.’

Of course she’s here to see you.

‘Why?’

‘‘Cause there’s so much we need to talk about, woman to woman.’

“Woman to woman”, what a joke? And it takes everything in you to stop your eyes from rolling. What the fuck does that even mean?

‘Can’t we schedule this for another time? I’m kinda in a rush.’

‘It won’t take long, I promise.’

Hell, she can’t take a hint, can she?

‘Can I come in?’

‘We can’t talk about whatever it is here?’ you tighten your grip around the door handle to stop your hand from shaking. ‘I mean, you said it yourself, it won’t take long.’

‘Yeah, but it’s weird doing it at the door, so can I come in?’

‘You’re in no position to call the shots.’

‘Please,’ she sounds desperate. ‘I just need ten minutes of your time, then I promise I’ll go.’

The more you look at her, the worse she looks. Honestly, she looks like she’s been to hell and back, and if you didn’t hate her so much, you’d feel sympathy.

‘Ten minutes, then you have to leave.’

‘That’s all I ask, thank you.’

And so despite your better judgement, you step to one side to allow her into the apartment. As you shut the door, you offer her a drink.

‘I’ll have a water, thank you.’

‘We’ve got water in the fridge.’ You walk towards your bedroom to shut off the running water, ‘I’ll be with you in a moment.’

On the short trek, you dig your phone from your robe pocket.

You: Coralie’s here she says she wants to talk but i’m uneasy

You shut the faucet. You quickly change out of your robe into the first clothing items you stumble upon, which are the sweats Jude was wearing earlier. They’re loosely fitting, but they’re comforting because they smell like him.

Coralie’s in the living room, bottle of water in hand, and she’s focused on something out the window.

‘Sorry I took so long.’

Your sudden intrusion snaps her out of her reverie, ‘It’s fine.’

Her eyes are fixed on you as you move around the space to take your seat on the sectional, feet tucked beneath your bum.

This is so awkward.

‘So,’ you start, breaking the ice, ‘you said you wanted to talk?’

You heard Jude out, so it’s only fair that you hear Coralie’s side of the story.

‘Right,’ she clears her throat. ‘I assume you know about our. . .’

‘Affair?’

She winces at your choice of words.

‘Yeah, I do.’

‘And he told you everything?’

‘That you got drunk last December and hooked up? That you’ve been hooking up behind my back for the last six months?’

She sits perfectly still, but her trembling lower lip betrays her.

‘That you were sending inappropriate texts, pictures, and videos. . .’ you continue, pleased to see her squirm in her seat. ‘Am I missing anything else?’

It’s only been, what? Five days since you last saw her, but in the short time span, she’s aged a decade. Coralie’s never disclosed her age, but you’ve always placed her in her late-twenties, maybe early-thirties, but today she looks well into her forties.

‘How did you find out?’

‘I saw the drunk text you sent him, what did it say again?’ you pause for dramatic effect. ‘Right, “I’m drunk and I miss you. Call me.”’

She’s fidgeting with the bottle in her hand, her head bowing in shame. ‘Y/N, I’m really sorry.’

‘What are you apologising for?’

‘All of it.’ She looks up at you, ‘I’m sorry that you found out the way you did.’

You hear her, but you’re not ready to accept her apology. Especially because she’s cutting into your self-care time with this crap.

‘Who made the first move?’

‘Jude did.’

Your heart aches at the revelation, it’s like someone has driven a sharp knife into it.

‘He was upset at you, he didn’t say why but he was really cut up about a fight you had,’ she proceeds. ‘And if it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else.’

You think you might throw up.

‘But he was drunk, we both were, and. . .’ her voice trails.

An uncomfortable silence descends upon the room because really, what else is there to say?

‘Do you love him?’

‘Does it matter?’

It doesn’t matter, but you want to know. Let’s say it’s curiosity.

‘He’s hard not to love.’

That’s true.

‘But am I in love with him? No.’

Some of the tension in your shoulders eases.

‘And he doesn’t love me either,’ and she almost sounds sad when she says that. ‘It was only ever sex between us, nothing more.’

But the texts. . . what did they mean?

‘Nothing,’ she insists. ‘Call it harmless flirtation.’

‘Harmless?’

She flushes, ‘You know what I mean.’

So you now know that he was mad at you, they were both drunk, they fucked and you think Coralie regrets it, but you’re not sure.

‘Who pursued it?’

‘What?’

‘Your. . . thing, the affair,’ it irks you to say it.

‘Oh, Y/N, I don’t think you–’

‘Was it Jude?’

‘He loves you.’

‘I know he loves me.’

Coralie’s quiet which furthers your frustration at her.

‘Did he pursue the affair?’

‘Why does it matter? It doesn’t change anything because in the end, he chose you.’ It’s like it pains her to say it. ‘He’ll always choose you.’

You nod.

After another long and awkward silence, she professes, ‘You know, I felt awful deceiving you because you really are such a good person.’

‘Don’t start with that crap.’

‘No, I mean it. You’re a good person, and we were friends–’

‘We were never friends,’ you interrupt. ‘You were never my friend.’

You tolerated her, there’s a difference.

‘I know you’re upset with me, and trust me, I get it, but come on,’ she persists. ‘We were friendly with each other.’

‘You sleep with all your friends’ boyfriends?’

That shuts her up.

‘Look, Coralie, I appreciate the apology,’ you pull your phone from the sweatpants pocket to check the time and discover eight missed calls from Jude. ‘But you said you’d be here for ten minutes, and you’ve exceeded that time.’

‘I know, and I’m really sorry about that, but there’s one last thing I want to tell you.’

Your stomach twists with dread—she better not tell you that she’s pregnant. The cheating you can move past, but a child you can’t recover from.

‘You’re pregnant?’

‘What?’ She looks offended that you’d even ask her that question. ‘No, I’m not pregnant.’

You sigh in relief.

She’s not pregnant, but she did lose her job. She received the call this morning to let her know that her services were no longer required by the club. She’s certain Jude had something to do with it, so she’s here to plead with you to talk sense into him.

‘And I meant what I said, I really am sorry for the inconvenience that I’ve caused in your life, but Y/N, I really need this job,’ she concludes.

‘How are you so sure he had something to do with it?’

She shoots you an incredulous look as if to say, ‘Really?’

‘And if he did have something to do with it, what makes you think he’d listen to anything I have to say?’

‘Because you told him to end our arrangement and he did.’

‘But you said it yourself, you mean nothing to him.’

She flinches again.

‘I mean, I can try to talk to him, but I can’t promise you anything.’

‘Thank you,’ she smiles. ‘That’s all I ask.’

‘Well, like I said, I have somewhere to be so–’

You don’t get to finish the sentence, ‘cause you’re cut off by a panicked Jude who storms into the apartment, followed by an equally panicked Mark.

‘Babe?’

Thank the heavens he’s here.

///

You wake up in the middle of the night to find Jude’s side of the bed empty. At first you think he’s in the bathroom, but when five minutes pass and he’s not back, the panic sets in. You grab your phone off of the bedside table to check the time: 2:38.

Where the hell is he?

You sit up and search the dark room for traces of him, but there’s nothing—only his phone on the bedside table.

It’s been hours since your confrontation with Coralie, but you’re yet to process it all. You’re still in shock at the fact that she rocked up at your door the way she did, but you’d be lying if you said the conversation wasn’t cathartic.

‘Jude?’

You push the covers away and climb off of the bed. After you locate your house shoes, you set out to find him.

His phone is here, so he shouldn’t be far.

‘Jude?’

As you make your trek down the short passage, you hear soft chatter coming from the TV room. When you turn the corner, you find Jude sitting on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, feet resting on the coffee table.

A smile takes over your face at the sight of him.

‘Hey, you,’ he greets you as you crawl into his lap.

‘Hi,’ you tuck your face in the crook of his neck and inhale his scent. ‘What are you watching?’

‘Pulp Fiction.’

Of course he is.

‘Why’re you up?’

You trace patterns on his t-shirt clad chest. ‘I woke up and you weren’t in bed. I panicked.’

He tightens his arms around you, ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know,’ you sit up. ‘This pregnancy has me acting weird.’

‘Yeah, blame it on the pregnancy,’ he teases.

‘Shut up,’ you shift to straddle him. ‘Why are you sitting here alone?’

His hands settle on your waist, ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’

There’s still so much to discuss in terms of Coralie and her claims, but tonight just isn’t the time for that.

‘Do you think we’ll ever be okay again?’

‘Yeah,’ he takes your mouth into a deep kiss.

‘Come to bed with me,’ you whisper against his lips, moaning when he slips a hand between you, teasing his fingers through your slick folds.

‘I don’t think we’ll make it to bed.’

///

Tagged:

@luv4bellingham

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham scenario #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #Jude Bellingham one shot #Jude Bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fanfiction #Jude Bellingham scenarios

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clavissionary-position · 2 days

Text

(Translation) Gilbert's Beast Manual His POV Story

The final installment in Gilbert's current party event.

Spoilers. I'm not a translator, I just throw stuff into online translators, so expect errors. Case 1 | Case 2 | Case 3 (I recommend you read these beforehand for the full experience.)

Please be aware that this installment contains some heavier emotional content as well as sexual content later on—MDNI. As a final note, I recommend you have read Gilbert's proposal event beforehand. Just in case. (Technically I'd also recommend you have read his physical exam event too, but not to the same degree.)

—

I couldn't tell the little rabbit the real reason I had her accompany me on official business.

I'd most certainly earn a scolding and remonstration if I did.

I felt like I wanted to be scolded at least once though, since the little rabbit was the only one who could truly rebuke the conquering beast. However...

"I want the little rabbit to be able to survive in Obsidian even if by some chance I were no longer here."

Those were not words I could simply tell her, because I knew just how devastating they would be for her.

(That being said, today's been worse than ever.)

Crimes of the older generations continuing to go unchecked, signs of rampant bribery within the military...

The little rabbit's beautiful eyes were exposed to so many of these things.

(What is it about this country that when one rotten thing disappears, three more take its place?)

(Maybe everyone's got a death-wish. Yet they still beg for their lives once they're weeded out.)

(...It's incomprehensible to me. If only they'd all just die to save me the trouble.)

Emma: Gil, are we done with official business for the day?

My darkening thoughts must have breached containment; as the little rabbit walked beside me she entwined her fingers with mine.

Her warm hand permeated the cruelty staining across my heart.

Gilbert: I don't have any plans, but is there anything you'd like to do?

Emma: Is it alright if I come to your room? I feel like your bookshelves are calling for me.

Gilbert: Of course it's alright.

(...You probably have a lot to think over.)

Her face only spelled out joy. There was no deceit to be found.

She didn't change her usual demeanor, not even when faced with an irritable beast.

(I've known Walter and Roderic for a long time and even they're prone to checking my complexion on days like this.)

Of course that certainly didn't mean she hadn't noticed a thing.

In fact, the little rabbit, with her keen insight into other people's emotions, should have already pinpointed mine.

[flashback to Case 1]

Gilbert: Anyhow... was it written on my face?

Emma: ...Yeah, it was.

Gilbert: Hehe, well that's no good.

Emma: Isn't that what I'm here for?

Emma: To help give you even a little peace of mind?

[end flashback]

(That's what you said this morning, right?)

(...Truly, you're so gallant for a baby rabbit.)

The little rabbit immediately leapt at the books once she arrived in my room.

Although she'd probably learned by now that concentrating on the books alone would make this troublesome beast very jealous.

So she picked out only one before walking over to the bed and sitting down beside that beast.

Gilbert: ...What's this? Political science?

Emma: I felt like doing some studying today.

(Oh, I see...)

(Someone with a truly pure heart doesn't get tainted after experiencing filth. But rather, they lament their own helplessness.)

(...That's just so like the old me.)

A young boy who'd once learned about corruption and then tried desperately to change the status quo.

And after he'd finished reading all the books available within the country, he'd asked a book dealer to regularly procure ones from other places so he could vigilantly instill the knowledge into himself.

That was back when I'd still foolishly believed that no matter how corrupt a person was, there was an alternative to killing them as long as you engaged with them sincerely.

(Things didn't work out so nicely in the real world though.)

(...But I want the little rabbit to stay like this, just as she is.)

Gilbert: [smiling as he watches her read] ...

Emma: ...

Gilbert: ......

Emma: ......Gil.

The little rabbit looked up from her book, appearing as though she might cry.

Emma: Are there any easier political science books?

Gilbert: Ahaha... I knew it.

Gilbert: The book you're holding is so philosophical that even I found it difficult to understand.

Gilbert: Would you like me to recommend something aimed at beginners?

Emma: Yes, please, if you wouldn't mind!

Gilbert: And what should you do when begging me?

Without hesitation, the little rabbit placed her hands my shoulders and kissed my cheek.

Emma: ...Please, Gil.

Gilbert: It's boring if you do the same thing you always do.

Emma: Then how about...

When I sensed her trying to bite my ear, I pulled back.

Gilbert: Really now... So that's what you're gonna do.

Emma: Aren't you always biting my ear? It's a show of my affection.

Gilbert: But you're already aware though, of how sensitive my ears are?

Emma: ...

Gilbert: Oh, I almost forgot. I still have to discipline you.

Emma: ...W-what are you talking about?

Gilbert: Are you playing innocent? You still haven't made up for sneaking medicine into my food during lunch.

Emma: Um, I did make up for it!? Didn't you have your fun teasing me for it?

Gilbert: That was just a bit of playing around. You see, my real punishment—

I grabbed the little rabbit's hand as she tried to run and forced her onto the bed in a roll.

Just like that I gathered her wrists above her head and bound them with a nearby cloth.

(I hadn't really planned to do something like this...)

(But the little rabbit's been a bad girl, so I've got no choice.)

Emma: I was... going to study...

Gilbert: I'll have a beginner's book picked out for you by tomorrow.

Gilbert: Or rather, if you're interested, I can teach you myself? After all, training people is my forte.

I undid the collar of her dress and ran my fingers directly over her bare skin.

The little rabbit's cheeks turned as red as the sunset when I placed my hand over her breasts.

Emma: But don't you have things to do, Gil?

Gilbert: It's up to me how I choose to use my limited time.

Gilbert: You really don't have to be so overly anxious. If I can't manage, I'll say so.

(Although there's nothing that should be getting higher priority over the little rabbit's requests.)

The little rabbit started rubbing her legs together as I caressed her over and over again.

Purposely ignoring her mounting frustration was, of course, all part of the plan.

Emma: In that case... Thank you, Gil.

Gilbert: You've certainly got funny tastes to be saying thank you at a time like this.

Emma: That's not what I mean... mn... ah...

She suddenly let out a lewd cry when I lightly poked the hardened tip of her breast.

Emma: This afternoon, too, you...

Gilbert: I let you have your release right away this afternoon, didn't I? I wouldn't call that a punishment.

Emma: ...

Gilbert: It's no use being wistful either.

When I turned up the hem of her dress, I didn't even have to touch her to uncover the stain on her underwear.

Just a light swipe up the thin fabric and my fingertips came away damp.

Gilbert: Now then, you're going to have to suffer a lot.

Emma: ...At least... let me take my clothing off please.

Emma: I can't bear to... ruin the dress you made for me.

(Jeez, you truly are...)

Gilbert: I'm not listening to you.

Emma: Ah...

I thrust my fingers into her wetness as if I was trying to scrape out every last drop of nectar.

The dress pinned underneath her quickly became sullied.

Emma: Gil... mn...

Gilbert: If the dress gets dirty, you'll be just be reminded of something embarrassing whenever you put it on, won't you?

Gilbert: This is punishment, so you've got to resign yourself and accept it.

Emma: .......You're so mean.

Gilbert: And who exactly do you think I am?

(For the world's greatest villain to let you off with meanness and nothing else... that just means you're special.)

After the punishment, the little rabbit, thoroughly sullied, headed for the bath.

I honestly wanted to chase after her, but there was still work to be done today.

Roderic: Pardon me, sir.

Gilbert: I figured you'd come.

When I got to my office desk, Roderic immediately selected a document from the stack and handed it to me.

Roderic: ...I thought I might be turned away.

Gilbert: I'm in a good mood right now so I'll forgive you.

Roderic: That's surprising. I thought a storm would have been raging these past few days.

Gilbert: Ahaha, everyone has the little rabbit to thank for that.

Roderic: ...They can't thank her enough.

Gilbert: Neither can I.

I briefly glanced over the document before picking up my quill.

[I'm not gonna paste all the cutaways from the CG like I did in Case 3]

Gilbert: I see. So they've already completed their draft. Excellent, excellent.

Roderic: It seems experiencing your wrath this morning made them respond accordingly.

Gilbert: I'd like for them to submit the draft before it ever gets to that point next time.

Roderic: It's only because nobody can come up with out-of-the-box ideas like you.

Gilbert: They're all conclusions one can arrive at rationally. It's not like I'm making unreasonable demands of anyone.

(We're in trouble if they can't grow to the point where they can keep the older generations in check even without me.)

While talking, I read through the document and noted down points of concern.

Gilbert: ...Also, the draft was poorly-constructed. With this there's too gaps for us to drive that old man into a corner.

Roderic: Then I'll have it returned to you in such a way that we can.

Gilbert: I only appreciate haste. You help them too, Roderic. I'd like to have the contents finalized before our next regular meeting.

Gilbert: If we leave that old man unchecked, he may soon start a losing battle against neighboring countries.

(Up until now I'd left him to go and self-destruct on his own but... it was a promise to the little rabbit.)

Roderic: ...Understood, sir.

After completing my review, I handed it back to Roderic.

Gilbert: What's the next document?

Roderic: It's here, sir.

Gilbert: ...I know I keep asking, but is there more still?

Roderic: There's a mountain of things I'd like you to look over.

Gilbert: I thought I'd delegated my authority out.

(And it's not like they're even required to check in with me before proceeding.)

Roderic: This just means that Obsidian needs you.

Gilbert: That's certainly a problem.

Roderic: No, sir, it's not.

(I've got no intention of dying now that I've decided to live, but...)

(The everyday life that's persisted until today may not necessarily continue on tomorrow.)

(Because of the position I'm in, I have to assume the worst and act accordingly.)

Gilbert: ...[sigh] Unless we can get everyone past the idea that failure is some sort of capital crime, won't it be difficult for you and I to manage all this work on our own?

Gilbert: It seems like my presence is a hindrance after all.

Roderic: Please don't say that!

Gilbert: Fine, fine. If you don't like it, then go give out this PSA.

Gilbert: "As long as there's no fraud or corruption at work, I won't kill you over a simple failure. So please rely on your own judgement more."

Roderic: ...Very well, sir.

(Even so...)

I'd felt someone's passionate gaze trained on me even while we were talking.

The person in question may have believed they were well-hidden.

But I couldn't help but notice the hem of her negligee flickering from her hiding spot.

Roderic: ...Sir, let's deal with the rest of this tomorrow.

Roderic may have noticed as well since he was giving up on the rest of the documents.

Gilbert: Hey. You definitely didn't see anything, right?

Roderic: I saw nothing and I noticed nothing.

Gilbert: Is that so? That's fine, then. Thank you for your hard work.

(Narrowly escaped death, didn't you...?)

The door closed behind Roderic and I stretched out my arms as though to relax.

Gilbert: Now, then, little rabbit.

Emma: ...So you'd noticed me after all.

Gilbert: Well that's a given.

Once I beckoned, the little rabbit understood my request exactly and climbed onto my lap.

Gilbert: You were throwing Roderic such a passionate look.

Emma: I was looking at you!?

Gilbert: He was positioned in the same line of sight.

Gilbert: As you know, you have a very troublesome man on your hands. So you're aware of what you should do at a time like this, right...?

Emma: ......

The punishment from earlier seemed to have taken effect as the little rabbit kissed my lips instead of my ear.

I lightly bit her lip on her way out, imparting a bit of pain.

But rather than get angry, the little rabbit's eyes only seemed to soften with joy.

(Looks like I was able to soothe you after all.)

Emma: ...Did I interfere with your official duties?

Gilbert: [pouts] Roderic's the one who interfered. Showing up at this hour with documents for review.

Emma: That's probably because you were busy during the day.

Gilbert: [grins] Hehe... I showed you a lot of things I don't like about Obsidian today.

Emma: ...And I want to know about even more of those things from now on.

Emma: Because I'd like to be able to assist you as well.

Gilbert: Ahaha, that's reassuring.

(...Hm?)

The little rabbit had begun to frown as she spoke.

(Have I said something wrong?)

I hadn't the faintest idea what it could be, so I settled on comforting her for the time being by stroking her cheek, still warm from her bath.

Gilbert: You're pulling such a long face even though your words are so reassuring,

Emma: ...I wasn't lying.

Gilbert: I know that. So what's eating at you?

Emma: ...I can't really put it to words.

Emma: It's just... I'm envious of Roderic.

(......)

Emma: He's able to assist you more than me, and he knows everything...

(...So that's what was on your mind while you were eavesdropping.)

(The little rabbit is jealous of Roderic.)

(The sweet little rabbit of all people.)

Gilbert: Wow... I'll have to give Roderic a bonus.

There's no way I wouldn't be happy to be shown such love to the point of jealousy.

This was an event that completely overturned all the depressing stuff from today.

It was practically a miracle.

Emma: ...I get it now. So this is what you've been feeling all this time.

Emma: Hehe... What do I do? I'm really jealous here.

Jealousy was supposed to be a negative emotion by nature yet the little rabbit took it in as though it were a good thing.

I felt like she'd gotten a glimpse of how this beast dealt with his jealousy on a daily basis.

Gilbert: Serious jealousy is nothing like this though, you know?

Emma: Are you saying there's more to come?

Gilbert: Yeah. Your jealousy's in the early chapters.

Gilbert: The more and more you come to love me, the less you'll be able to contain that kind of adorable jealousy.

Emma: I'll work diligently then.

Gilbert: Hehe... I can't believe you've cheered up this much just from turning into a jealousy fiend.

(It's just like Roderich was saying. I definitely shouldn't have been able to show any kindness toward my surroundings these past few days)

And yet, what occupies my heart now at the end of the day is pure happiness.

(The reason I had Emma accompany me on official business was in preparation for a day that might possibly come...)

(At least that's what I'd thought, but perhaps in reality I'd only wanted to be healed.)

(...Nothing in this rotten world can change a thing about the beautiful world that Emma brings.)

(Maybe I'm just spoiled by the comfort in that.)

(...I may be a lot more dependent on Emma than I realize.)

When I laughed despite myself, Emma began to gently stroke my hair.

Gilbert: Taming the conquering beast is difficult, isn't it? But it might be easy for you.

Gilbert: Because I'm so madly in love with you.

(I'm sure I could cherish you endlessly.)

(That's why... I wish this daily life could go on forever.)

----------

Translation references: 無理矢理 1 | かと 1 2 | 感謝してもしきれません 1 | あなたなら 1

#ikemen prince #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri translation folder

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wholoveseggs · 7 hours

Note

girrrllll, i got another idea! how about Elijah proposing to a reader? it could be angsty in the beginning, maybe they got into a fight because she feels like he always puts his family before her, so he proposes to her to show her she is his family too (and cause he was planning on doing that for a while anyway). and it’s all emotional, she’s not believing what’s happening and she’s thinking he doesn’t really mean it. meanwhile he’s almost desperate to show her how much she means to him. Smut cannot be absent of course. thank youuuu🫶🏻🫶🏻

Forever

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

Elijah loves you with all his heart, but his commitment to his family and his loyalty to Klaus keeps him from acting on his feelings. But when he almost loses you, he is determined to prove that you are the only woman he has ever truly loved, and wants to make you his, forever.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag! Who doesn't want to be Elijah's wife? ♡♡

6.8k words - Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, slight violence (a classic Elijah & Klaus brawl), shower sex, rimjob {f!receiving}, oral sex & the Italian coast ♡

Everyone says that Elijah Mikaelson is the best of his family. A loyal, charming, considerate man that holds himself to a standard not many can accomplish. In essence, perfect. He loves his family deeply, despite their constant misgivings and betrayals. Nothing would get in his way, if it meant he could protect the ones he loves.

Well, that's what you wanted to believe.

There was a reason Elijah held such devotion to his family. He was one of them, and no better than the worst of them, having sinned over and over to the point where atonement was simply not a viable option.

He didn't want you to see him that way, the dark side of his polished exterior. He wanted to shed his past and become a new man with you by his side.

You were unlike anyone he's ever known or had a passing connection to. Your empathy and kindness was beyond measure, it had captivated him the very moment that your eyes met.

He always wanted to be married, there were even a few times he almost found someone to spend eternity with. Something always stood between that moment and himself, usually in the shape of some great threat. But things had now settled in his life, he had a niece and a proper place to call home. He was no longer on the run from one demon or another.

He wanted this. To settle down with the woman of his dreams, build a life together, and maybe even add to it.

Perfect. Simple. Domestic bliss.

You had come for a small party celebrating Hope's third birthday. Or, as far as you were concerned, a get together amongst those you considered family.

Although, sometimes you worried they didn't see you as family in turn. Deep entrenched history often kept you away from the inner workings of their family life. You understood that you had to earn your place in their lives, and you had done so time and time again. But they never seemed to truly accept you as one of their own.

You got along with nearly all of them except Klaus, who saw you as just a passing phase Elijah was going through. A dalliance, nothing more.

He certainly knew how to poke at your insecurities about your relationship.

"So, tell me," he asked as the two of you waited in the kitchen. "When will this little thing with you and my brother end?"

"Excuse me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

"Don't take it personally, sweetheart. You're not the first pretty face he's lost himself in," Klaus explained with a shrug.

"You don't think he's serious about me?" you questioned, trying not to feel hurt.

Klaus just shrugged and gave you a wicked grin. "Why would he be?"

"Because I love him, and he loves me," you replied, keeping your voice low. "It's been four years, and it's serious."

Klaus let out a bark of a laugh. "Four years is nothing in the life of an original. When will you stop living in this fantasy you've built in your mind? This will end and you will move on."

You were about to respond with a few choice words when Hayley came in carrying hope.

While your relationship with Klaus was contentious and you thought him to be cruel and cold. There was no doubt that Hope loved her daddy with all of her tiny heart. She reached out to him, and he happily took her into his arms.

"There's my little one," he cooed, holding her close. "I love you, my sweet girl."

He began to place kisses all over her, and the three year old giggled loudly.

You had baked the cake for her, and placed a number 3 candle in the middle.

"Let's light her up!" you announced.

The cake was placed on the dining room table, and Elijah stood by you. He slipped his hand in yours and squeezed.

"I want auntie y/n to light it," Hope said.

You smiled wide and kissed her on the head.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice soft.

You lit the candle, and everyone began to sing as the little Mikaelson happily ate a slice of cake, messily covering herself. You laughed, taking a cloth to wipe her little face and hands. Elijah watched you with adoring eyes, you were such a loving soul and he was so lucky to be the one to call you his own.

The cake was enjoyed by all and soon it was time for gifts. Hope was handed a large package by her father, and she eagerly tore open the paper.

You were cuddled up to Elijah, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Thank you, my love."

"For what?" you asked, glancing up at him.

"For being here. It means a lot to me," he told you.

You looked back up at Elijah, and kissed him lightly.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you told him.

Hayley helped Hope unwrap the gift from you and Elijah. It was a wooden dollhouse, and it was a miniature replica of the compound, complete with a little Klaus, Elijah, Hayley, and Hope.

Hope hugged the dollhouse to her chest. "I love it!"

"We made it ourselves," you said with a smile.

"Look, daddy!" Hope squealed. "Auntie Y/N and Uncle 'lijah got me a house."

Klaus gave you a tight smile, and you looked at Elijah. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and held you close. This only seemed to annoy Klaus more, but he turned his attention to his daughter, and the gift that she had received.

"That's amazing, little love. Now, why don't you open the rest of your presents?"

"Okay!"

The evening winded down, and eventually Klaus and Hayley took Hope upstairs to get her ready for bed and the rest of the family retired to their rooms. You had left the dining room table a mess, and wanted to help clean up.

You had picked up a few discarded wrapping papers, when Elijah's arms came around your waist.

"Don't worry about that, my love," he whispered, pressing his lips to your neck. "Leave it, we can do it tomorrow."

"You're sure?" you asked, leaning against him.

"Very," he whispered, taking your hand and leading you towards his bedroom. "I have other plans for you."

"Oh?"

"Mmm," he replied, nipping at your ear. "You know, I've been thinking of you all day. All the things I'd like to do with you."

You flushed, biting your lips and smiling shyly. He never failed to make your heart skip a beat when he looked at you with that seductive gaze. He never had to force it either, his stare was simply alluring and attentive, it pulled you into its grasp like a siren's song.

Elijah shut the door, and the moment you turned around, he grabbed you and kissed you passionately. His hands held your hips tightly, pulling you against him. He kissed down your jawline, and down your throat.

He pushed you gently onto the bed, kissing down your neck and inhaling the smell of your skin, pulling your clothes off as he went along.

His love, his entire world, right here in his arms. If he were a more possessive man, he'd keep you in this room until his love was imprinted in your very bones.

He kissed you softly, wanting to take his time and express how deeply he cared for you with each touch. He moved down your body, worshiping your skin with his hands and mouth, and the soft sounds that escaped you only urged him on.

His bliss was quickly broken by the sounds of his brother yelling for him at the top of his lungs- an unnecessary use of volume, considering everyone had supernatural hearing.

You reached down and cupped his face, drawing his attention back to you.

"Please don't," you whispered, a pleading look in your eyes. "Stay,"

Elijah's breath left his lungs. You were not the clingy type, in fact you were rather understanding and independent; letting him go and do whatever it was the family needed, always supporting him.

He should stay, finish what he started with you, love you, the one he can't live without. But there was clearly something going on downstairs, his family needed him.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "I'll be back."

"Sure," you said flatly, pulling away. You didn't quite meet his eyes as you turned on your side, facing away from him.

You were clearly upset, but he didn't have time to be swayed by his emotions. He leaned in to give you a quick kiss, but you turned your head away.

"I'm sorry, my love," he said, stroking your hair.

You didn't respond, and he had to leave you there, curled up and angry. He felt a deep pang of regret, but the thought of his family's safety was at the forefront of his mind.

As soon as Elijah left, you let your emotions come to a boil. It hurt how he was constantly running away to deal with his family. It hurt you when he put them over you, their arguments over little things always dragged him in. It made you feel undesired, and second best.

You had no doubt he cared for you, and you did believe he loved you. But did he truly love you the way he loved his own family?

No, not really. He was always holding back, never showing all of himself. He wanted a relationship, but not a true partnership. Not with you, anyway.

Your insecurities bubbled to the surface. The way Klaus acted around you, like you didn't belong, he always treated you as if you were an outsider. Perhaps he was right, that it was a fantasy, that you should move on.

It didn't matter that you were with Elijah. It didn't matter that he called you his love.

He could love you, but not be in love with you. And maybe he wasn't. Maybe this was all a lie, a ruse.

Just too good to be true.

Klaus was pacing around the courtyard, clearly worked up and ready to take it out on the next person who walked through the door.

"Is it necessary to yell?" Elijah asked, his voice calm and collected.

"I had to make sure to get your attention, since you've been so distracted lately," Klaus snarked, a pointed look on his face.

Elijah let out a sigh, this wasn't the first time they've had this conversation. He was growing tired of Klaus' attitude. "What is it that's so important?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

"Y/n is a distraction," Klaus began. "You are blinded by her, and you've become weak and weakness will get us killed." He was speaking quickly and with anger. "You are no longer the man that I've known for a thousand years. You have forgotten where you came from, what you are, and who you are meant to protect."

"Are you suggesting I cast her aside?" Elijah questioned, his voice cold.

"Yes, exactly," Klaus answered, his expression unchanging.

"No," Elijah stated simply.

"She acts far too familiar, and is clearly not one of us," Klaus continued.

"She has proven herself time and time again," Elijah countered. "What more does she need to do?"

"I don't want Hope getting attached to someone that isn't family," Klaus said.

"You can't control who Hope gets close to," Elijah snapped, his anger finally rising.

"I can certainly try," Klaus replied, his tone icy. "And I will. Because you've allowed this woman into our home, our family, and now she's acting as if she belongs."

"She does," Elijah said, his voice steady. "You just have a hard time accepting that."

"If you really care about her, then you will do what is best," Klaus replied, his expression changing. "We both know what happens to your dalliances, they come to tragic ends. I'm trying to spare her from that, brother."

"This isn't some fling, Klaus," Elijah growled, his eyes flashing with rage.

"No, she's just a girl you enjoy fucking! And now Hope is calling her auntie, and she's acting like she's Hope's mother-"

Elijah laughed coldly, his brother was so painfully transparent, his paranoia endless and ever growing. "Is that what this is about? You're afraid of her taking Hayley's place? That I would take yours? Have you officially gone insane?" he mocked, his anger at a breaking point. "Have my actions in the last few years not been clear?"

"She will not be welcomed here once you've tired of her. Once she's gone, Hope will ask for her, and I will not allow that," Klaus stated, his voice rising. "You will have broken a little girls heart because of some stupid infatuation."

Elijah's patience with his brother had worn thin. He had to remind himself that Klaus had suffered so many losses in his long life, that his paranoia had grown into something monstrous. But in times like this, his brother could be utterly cruel, and it was impossible to see him as anything but.

"It's not some stupid infatuation," Elijah seethed, his hands clenched into fists. "I love her, and that's something you will never understand. She has been good for me, and has done nothing but support us. She's not a threat, and you know it. This is the problem with you, you want everyone to suffer as you have."

"That is not what I'm doing-" Klaus began, his voice rising. "She's not one of us, and will never be. You just keep her around as a trophy, to remind yourself that you are capable of caring for another. She doesn't belong here, and it will be her undoing."

Elijah lost his control and snapped. He grabbed his brother and threw him against the wall. Klaus' head hit the stone and cracked loudly. His face contorted into an expression of rage, his eyes flashing gold. He moved forward and punched Elijah in the face, sending him stumbling back. He rushed at his brother and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing tightly. Klaus' anger grew, and his grip tightened.

"Enough!" Hayley screamed, grabbing Klaus' arm and pulling him back. She looked between the two brothers, her eyes wide. "Why are you two fist fighting when my daughter is trying to sleep?!"

Klaus' eyes were wild, and his face was covered in blood, Elijah looked the same, and neither was ready to back down. The only thing stopping them was Hayley's presence. She stood between them, and looked at Klaus. "What did you do? What could you have possibly said to him?" she demanded.

"Y/n isn't family, and never will be," Klaus spat, glaring at Elijah. "I have to protect our daughter."

"Our daughter? You're unbelievable, Klaus," Hayley said, shaking her head. "Go. To. Bed. Both of you," she commanded.

She grabbed Klaus's hand, and dragged him away. Elijah sighed, rubbing his forehead. He looked up and saw you on one of the upper balconies with an unreadable expression on your face.

Had you seen that entire argument? Did you hear the awful things his brother had said about you?

He rushed up the stairs and met you at your bedroom door. You had your bag in your hand, and he knew immediately what was happening.

"You can't," he told you, shaking his head.

"I'm not welcome here," you whispered. "I have to go, Elijah."

"You are always welcome here," he said, reaching for you. "Please, let's talk."

"We have talked," you told him, pushing his hand away. "I've heard everything I needed to hear, Elijah. You keep choosing them over me. It's always your family first, and I understand that, but you have to see how it hurts me. I can't just keep coming second in your life."

"You aren't," he whispered, trying to draw you close, but you gently pushed him away. He felt his heart shatter at the action, and he knew he had lost you. "I want you, I choose you. Don't do this, my love."

You pushed past him, unable to hear anything else he had to say at the moment, you needed space to think, to figure out what you wanted. If this was a fight you could win. "Goodbye, Elijah," you said, giving him one last glance.

He stood there, and he was frozen. How could this have happened? He thought that he had made you understand that this was permanent. That you were forever.

But he had failed to show his love properly and he had to fix what he broke. You were his greatest love, his everything, and he couldn't live without you. He was nothing without you. So he would do whatever it took to bring you back.

Because if you were gone, so was he.

You were staying with Marcel, the only person who understood what it was like to be in the Mikaelson shadow. He wasn't thrilled that Elijah had hurt you, but he did understand that relationships weren't always easy, especially with the Mikaelsons.

He poured you a stiff drink, and let you wallow.

"I shouldn't have gone," you muttered.

"It's Hope's birthday," he pointed out.

"But I should have known better than to get involved like that, it only makes Klaus jealous," you sighed.

"Klaus is a notorious asshole, and Elijah is...well, he's not good with his emotions."

"That's putting it lightly."

You drank the whole glass in one gulp, and poured yourself another.

"I don't know why I thought that he was serious," you grumbled.

"He's serious, but he's also scared," Marcel replied. "It's a lot easier for him to push people away, then have the chance to hurt them."

"It's a terrible feeling, wanting to be a part of a family that doesn't want you," you admitted.

"I know the feeling," Marcel replied, sitting down next to you.

"He told me he loved me. He told me that we were going to spend forever together. And yet, his family still doesn't accept me." You looked up at Marcel, your eyes filled with tears.

"It's just Klaus, the rest of them adore you," he told you.

"How do I get Klaus to trust me? I'm not trying to take his daughter," you insisted.

"Just be patient, give him some time," Marcel advised.

"I've given him four years," you said. "And he's not willing to accept me even a little."

Marcel nodded, and handed you another drink. "Don't worry about Klaus, he'll get over himself."

"And Elijah?" you asked.

Marcel frowned. "That's not my area."

"Yeah," you said, nodding slowly. "Me either."

You and Marcel had a few drinks and talked the night away. By the end, you had almost completely forgotten your heartache, and were simply enjoying the company.

Marcel had fallen asleep, and you were dozing off when your phone buzzed. You opened it and saw a message from Elijah.

We need to talk.

You sighed, and sent him a simple reply.

Tomorrow.

You were far too exhausted to deal with his bullshit right now. You tossed your phone on the coffee table and fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up on Marcel's couch, a blanket thrown over you. You stretched, and grabbed your phone, heading into the kitchen.

Elijah had texted you back.

Meet me outside, I have a car waiting for you.

You frowned. He was sending a car for you? You quickly responded.

Why are you sending a car?

A response came instantly.

It's a surprise.

You shook your head, but smiled a little and texted him back.

Fine, give me 10 minutes.

Hurry, we're on a tight schedule.

You showered, and got dressed, grabbing your bag, and heading out. You gave Marcel a quick goodbye, and hopped into the town car.

Elijah was sitting there, and smiled softly.

"Good morning," he said.

"Morning," you replied.

He looked you over, and you were surprised by the intense gaze. You blushed under his scrutiny.

"What?" you asked.

"You're beautiful," he said softly. "And I'm sorry, for all of this. I never meant to hurt you, or make you feel unwanted."

You shook your head. "I know you didn't," you said. "And it's okay."

"It's not," he told you, reaching for your hand. You let him take it, and he pressed a kiss to your palm.

You flushed, and looked away. "Where are we going?"

"The airport," he replied.

"What? Why?" You were completely confused.

"You are right, I'm not putting you first, and I will not allow that anymore," Elijah replied. "And to prove it, we're going somewhere, just the two of us."

"Where are we going?"

"Italy, we're going to spend a month on the Amalfi Coast." he said, a soft smile on his face.

"A month?" You asked, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"Yes," he nodded, and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. "I've been neglectful, and I need to remind you of how I feel about you.

"Eli, you don't have to do all of this."

"Yes, I do," he replied. "You deserve the world."

He had rented a private plane, and had arranged everything. You were incredibly impressed that he managed to pull it all off in the span of a night.

You sat beside him on the plane, his hand intertwined with yours, and a soft smile on his face. You couldn't help but relax, the last couple of days had been so tense, but you couldn't stay mad at him, and a romantic getaway was exactly what you needed.

As the plane took off, Elijah reached over and brushed your hair out of your face. You lifted the arm rest and cuddled up against him, resting your head on his chest. He held you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You missed this, the way he was so attentive, the way he was gentle with you.

"I am sorry, for making you feel second best," he said, his voice low and full of regret.

"I know," you said, reaching up and stroking his cheek. "It's okay, your dedication to your family is part of what I love about you."

You looked up at him and kissed him softly.

"Let's not dwell on the past," you said. "We have a whole month to make new memories."

"I am going to spoil you so much, my love," he said, kissing your nose.

The flight was nearly twelve hours and you immediately fell asleep when the plane leveled out. When you woke up, the sun was starting to set.

Elijah was reading a book, and had his free hand resting on your hip. You smiled, and snuggled closer. He put the book down and looked at you, his eyes soft and full of affection.

"Good morning, or rather evening," he chuckled. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you yawned.

You looked out the window, and saw the city below. It was like something out of a dream, colorful houses all stacked up, the sea sparkling as the sun set.

"Welcome to Positano," he said.

"Elijah," you whispered, awe in your voice.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's magical," you gushed.

"Yes, it is."

The plane landed, and a car was waiting. Elijah had rented an entire villa for the two of you. It was stunning, with a view of the ocean, and a private beach.

You walked through the villa, looking at all the art and antiques. It was very much Elijah's taste, and you could see yourself spending a month here.

The moon was out and it cast a soft glow over the sea. Elijah took your hand and the two of you walked down the stairs to the beach.

The sounds of the waves gently lapping on the sand soothed you. You walked down the shoreline, your hands intertwined.

"You didn't have to do all this, you know," you said, leaning against him.

"I know, but I wanted to. I needed to. It was a selfish thing, really," he replied, wrapping his arms around you.

Up ahead you saw something on the beach, it was too dark to make out, but it looked like a bunch of neatly shaped debris.

You walked a little closer, and you could make out the shapes. It was a heart, surrounded by lit candles, and flowers. The words "I love you" written with rose petals on the sand. Suddenly a bunch of twinkle lights were turned on, and the whole scene was lit up.

You turned around to ask Elijah if he had done this, but the words died in your throat. He was kneeling on the ground, a ring box in his hand.

"Y/n," he began, his voice soft and loving.

"What are you doing?" you asked, a bit breathless.

"I should have done this a long time ago," he said. "I should have married you years ago, but I was afraid. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to give you everything you deserve."

"Eli-"

"No, let me finish," he insisted, and continued. "I've spent centuries on this earth, never truly belonging anywhere. Always searching, never finding. Until I found you. My home, my heart, my family."

You were crying, tears streaming down your face. You couldn't really process what was happening, here was the man of your dreams, pouring his heart out, telling you how much he loved you, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

"You are my world, my everything. And I want to spend eternity by your side," he said, opening the box and showing you the ring.

The ring was absolutely stunning, a large ruby surrounded by diamonds. It looked antique and must have been worth a fortune.

"I found this ring almost five hundred years ago, right here in Italy. I knew that when I finally found the right person, I would give it to them," he said, smiling up at you.

"You can't be serious," you said, not intending for it to sound as harsh as it did. You were in complete shock.

"I have never been more serious in my entire life," he replied, his voice firm.

"What will your family say?" You asked, worried about Klaus’ reaction.

"Niklaus can go fuck himself," Elijah grinned. "As for the rest of them, they will be thrilled."

You nodded slowly, letting the words sink in.

"This is insane," you whispered, unable to stop staring at the ring.

"Is that a yes?" He asked, looking nervous. "Will you be my wife?"

"Yes," you breathed, and he took your hand and slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as though it was made for you.

He stood up, and kissed you. You threw your arms around him, your fingers tangling in his hair, kissing him back with every ounce of love you had for him.

"You're my family, you're my home," he whispered, spinning you around. "And I vow, from this day on, you will always come first. I love you."

"I love you too," you murmured, cupping his cheek. "With all my heart."

He pulled you close, kissing you deeply. You lost yourself in his embrace, in the way his hands felt on your body, his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth.

You both stumbled to the villa, tearing each other's clothes off. Your back hit the wall, and Elijah pushed your skirt up. His hands found your thighs and he squeezed the soft flesh, lifting you up, your legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed along your neck, leaving little marks in his wake.

"My fiance," he muttered against the flesh. "My darling love."

"I like the sound of that," you moaned.

"Then you're going to absolutely adore being called my wife," he grinned, moving his lips down to your breasts.

His kisses turned bruising, biting at the flesh of your tits. He was rough with you and you relished it. It was like he was finally unleashing his feelings, letting out all the love he had for you.

You tugged on his hair, bringing his lips back to yours, hungry for his kisses, drunk off of his affection.

"Bed, Eli," you murmured, but instead, he picked you up and carried you into the shower.

He set you on your feet and turned the water on.

"We are covered in sand," he grinned.

The steam was rising as the water heated up, and the moment it was hot enough Elijah pulled you in with him. You squealed as the warm water washed over you, cleaning you off.

The water was the perfect temperature, a delicious warmth, but not as delicious as the feeling of him pressing into you, pinning your front against the tile.

He reached up, taking your hands and pinning them to the tile wall.

"Keep your hands here," he commanded, pressing a kiss to the back of one.

You nodded, a small moan escaping your lips, he kissed his way down your back. He ran his tongue down the length of your spine. Soft and gentle, teasing over the top of your ass. His hands ran over your legs, and he bent you slightly, opening your cheeks to reveal the most intimate part of you.

"Beautiful," he murmured, before lapping at you.

Your knees nearly buckled as he pressed his face into your flesh. His hands spread your cheeks wide as his tongue dipped into your core. The way his mouth touched every part of you left you dizzy with need. Your thighs clenched, your clit pulsing, ready to be touched.

But you did what he told you, and kept your hands above your head. The porcelain felt cool on your heated skin and he tugged you closer, your hands moving further down as your body was pulled back. His tongue darted into your center, teasing around your hole, his saliva coating you, trailing up, finding your puckered hole, and slowly circling the muscle.

"Elijah," you whimpered, gasping as his tongue worked you open.

He slipped a finger into your dripping cunt, working it inside, pulling it out and sliding it up, moving to replace his tongue on your tight entrance. He swirled around your asshole before pushing the pad of his finger into your tight heat, his mouth sucking on your ass, soft moans escaping him, vibrating against your flesh.

You struggled to keep yourself upright, your hands against the wall, bracing yourself, wiggling against him. The warm water of the shower cascading over you, the sensations were too much and not enough. You were panting, your head tilted back, eyes closed, as you were overwhelmed by his touch.

He pulled back and stood up, kissing along the back of your neck, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you close.

"Do you want more, sweetheart?" He murmured in your ear, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes," you breathed, arching against him.

His cock was hard, trapped between the two of you. You ground against him, rubbing yourself on his length, desperate for the friction.

"How much more?" He asked, a smirk in his voice.

"All of it," you said.

"Right here, up against the shower wall?"

"Yes, Elijah, please," you begged.

He hummed and reached between the two of you, taking his length and teasing your core with it. He loved making you beg for him, and he loved hearing the desperation in your voice. But you were now to be his wife, and he was going to take care of you.

He eased himself into your center, groaning at the tightness of you, how good it felt to be surrounded by your warmth. You moaned as he pressed inside of you, the thickness of his cock filling you.

He placed his hands on top of yours against the wall, intertwining your fingers.

"I love you," he murmured, his hips moving against you.

"I love you," you moaned, rocking your hips with him.

He took his time with you, savoring the feeling of your body. He had almost lost you, and he needed to remind you how much you meant to him, how he cherished you.

His slow, languid movements were torture, the heat building inside of you, his thick cock rubbing every inch of your pussy. You moved together, the two of you in sync.

Your orgasm started to build, a slow burn deep within. You had never been so turned on, or so loved, the way he held you, the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

"That's it, baby, come for me," he encouraged, his hips picking up the pace.

He could feel the change, and he knew exactly how to push you over the edge. His thrusts became harder, more purposeful. His lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, and he sucked the tender flesh.

Your walls clenched and you fell apart, coming undone for him, moaning his name, over and over. He smiled against your skin, he could stay buried inside of you forever, and never tire of the way you made him feel.

He turned off the shower and pulled you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his body on top of yours.

"I can't wait to make love to you every day, for the rest of our lives," he smiled.

"That's a long time, Eli," you teased.

"Not long enough," he smirked.

He took your legs and spread them, kneeling between them. He guided his length into you, and pushed all the way in.

He groaned, loving the way your body opened up to him, the way you felt like home.

"Elijah," you gasped, your hands reaching for him, needing to touch him.

"I love the way you say my name," he smiled, leaning down and kissing you, his tongue licking into your mouth.

He rocked into you, slowly, the feeling of you was addictive. You were his drug and he would never be able to get enough of you. He pictured all the ways he would make love to you, the ways he would please you, worship you.

"My beautiful girl," he groaned, his body on fire, his desire burning, and it only fueled his need.

His hips snapped against yours, and you gripped the sheets, the pleasure coursing through you. Another orgasm was building, the feeling of him deep inside of you, the way he looked at you with such love.

"Come with me, my love," he pleaded, his hand moving between the two of you, finding your clit, his fingers gently rubbing the bundle of nerves.

He was so close, and he was determined to have you come with him, to fall apart for him, together.

You whimpered and moaned, your hips lifting to meet his, chasing the feeling, knowing it was so close. He pressed his lips to yours, and the dam broke, crashing over the both of you.

You came together, moaning, his cock twitching as he emptied inside of you, your walls clenching and milking him, taking everything he had to offer.

You collapsed, boneless, spent, completely and utterly satisfied. He smiled at the sight of you, blissed out and glowing, your hair wet and splayed out over the pillows. . He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

He laid down next to you, making sure to keep you close. You curled into his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

"So, tell me more about this wedding of ours," you grinned, holding your hand up to look at your ring.

"I'll arrange everything, don't you worry about a thing," he said softly, nuzzling your neck.

"Is that so? I don't get any input?" you teased, turning to look at him, your lips brushing against his.

"I mean, you can make suggestions, if you'd like," he smirked, his hand running along the curve of your hip.

"Hmm, well, I do think we should get married in Positano," you smiled, and his eyes lit up.

"It’s perfect here, isn't it?" he mused, a soft smile on his lips.

"I want it to be a small wedding," you said, tracing patterns on his chest. "Family and close friends only."

"Of course," he replied. "I want it to be something just for us."

The two of you talked until the early morning, dreaming up your future together, and making plans for your wedding. It would be a simple affair, a celebration of your love, in a beautiful location, with the people who cared about the two of you the most.

The month spent in Italy was something out of a dream, the days filled with long walks on the beach, picnics in the gardens, and nights filled with dancing and drinking. You made love in the most luxurious beds, and in the most unorthodox places, including the rooftop patio one night. You even made it a bit of a game, seeing who could find the best spots to fuck in. Elijah always won, and was very proud of himself, you loved seeing him so carefree, so happy.

There was no talk of his family or what was going on at home. It was like you were in your own little world, just the two of you. But it was time to return home, the news of your engagement was something you both wanted to share in person.

When you entered the compound, Hope came running up to her favorite uncle, Elijah scooped her up in his arms and spun her around.

"Uncle ‘lijah! Auntie y/n you're home!" she grinned, and you smiled at her, ruffling her hair.

"Have you been behaving for your mother?" Elijah asked, carrying her towards the courtyard, letting her tell you both all about what she had been up to while you were away.

"I see the trip did you both some good," Klaus said, walking towards the three of you. His eyes darted to the ring on your finger, the red ruby catching the light. "Is that what I think it is?"

"What is?" Hope asked, looking confused.

"I asked aunt y/n to marry me," Elijah told Hope, smiling sweetly at her.

"You did?" She exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Yes," you nodded, laughing at the excitement.

Hope hugged Elijah tightly, and Klaus looked at his brother, a hint of a smile on his lips. The sight of his daughter so happy warmed his heart.

"Well, I wish you both every bit of happiness," he said, giving you a tight smile.

"Thank you," you replied, knowing his words were sincere and it was probably the most enthusiastic response you would ever get from him. It was progress and that was enough for you.

Elijah put Hope down, and she took off running, the news of your engagement clearly something she was very excited about. You could hear her yelling the news as she ran through the compound. Rebekah was the first to appear, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Congratulations!" She beamed, and you hugged her back, her enthusiasm contagious. "I better be a bridesmaid."

The rest of the Mikaelson's slowly came and offered their congratulations. Hayley and Freya both hugged you, Marcel shook Elijah's hand and Kol gave you a warm smile. Hope was thrilled, talking a mile a minute about all the ways she was going to help with the wedding.

"Can I be a bridesmaid?" she asked, her cute little face pleading.

You knelt down so you were at her level, taking her hand. "How about something even more special? No one else at the wedding is going to have such an important job."

"What is it?" She asked, her face completely in awe.

"Will you be my flower girl?"

She squealed and jumped into your arms, squeezing you tight. "Really? Yes! I'd love to!"

You laughed and hugged her back.

Elijah watched the scene, a warmth in his chest. You were his family, his home, the missing piece that had made him whole. He had finally found the love he had been searching for.

You caught him staring, and walked over to him, his arm wrapping around your waist. He kissed the side of your head and let out a contented sigh. You were everything he ever wanted and so much more.

"I can't wait to call you my wife," he smiled.

"Neither can I," you said, your lips meeting his, sealing the promise, always and forever.

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brodieland · 14 hours

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.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 10 Things I hate about you ´ˎ˗

Percy Jackson x Fem!ReaderSynopsis: you and Percy make up, and head out to the beach together !! Warning(s): cursing Word Count: 1911 A/N: Percy and the beach, yummyyyy😋

╰➤ MASTERLIST pt6

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

If there was one word to describe how Percy felt, it was stupid. He'd completely messed things up with you, and now he felt like shit. He was currently having lunch with Jason, Leo and Charles, whilst complaining about his problems to them.

"Dude, whats she saying about me," he asked.

"That your an asshole," Leo said.

"And some other words we don't feel comfortable repeating," Charles added.

"And how did you manage to mess it up that bad," Jason chuckled and Percy just groaned.

"She was drunk, what was I supposed to do??"

"Dude, she's embarrassed. She tried kissing you and you sat there like a deer in headlights," Leo stated like it was the obviously. It kinda was to be fair.

"Well if we want to get technical," Percy held up his finger like he was about to make a point. "We were technically behind the headlights, not in them."

"But if I smacked the shit out of you, suddenly I'm a villain," Leo held his hands up in surrender, and Percy just glared at him.

"Dude, just try apologizing or something," Charles pleaded. At the end of the day, if Percy doesn't make it work with you, then Charles has no Silena.

"Yeah, but um, there's just one more thing I have to take care of then," Percy stood up and walked over to where Luke was sitting with his friends. "Yo, Luke."

He called out and Luke stood up with Percy, moving to speak in private. "Whats up, not here for more money are you?"

"No, the opposite actually," Luke looked at Percy confused. "I don't want you to pay me anymore, I'm done."

"What do you mean you're done?? I haven't taken Silena out yet."

"I don't care, I'm out, do what you want with Silena, but our deal is off. And if she likes you, then your already set anyways," Percy waved off a complaining Luke and went to go find you.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

"Guys are dicks and I hate them," you complained to Piper.

"You just noticed?"

You glared and she just made a face at you. "But seriously, what is his problem??"

"I could probably help you if you ever, you know, told me the problem."

You were kind of embarrassed about it but said it anyways. "It's just, after all these days of trying to take me out, I go in to kiss him and he just sits there?? Like what the hell is that???"

"Weren't you totally wasted? And he like, wasn't?" You slowly nodded. "Don't you realize while you were taking shots on shots he stayed sober and followed you around, and even took you home once he noticed how drunk you got. Of course he didn't kiss you, that'd be, you know, weird??"

You just rolled your eyes. You're a stubborn woman to say the least, so you didn't want to admit she was right. "Whatever."

She chuckled as you both parted ways. You were walking towards the bathroom before class, when you suddenly felt someone pull you by the arm. Before you even had the time to scream you were in janitors closet.

"Who the fuck do you think you are," you turned around and saw Percy standing in front of you. "Oh my fucking god."

You face palmed as Percy started. "Hi."

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"Really? Because if that's it, I'll be on my way then," you tried to shove him out the way and leave, but he was stronger than he looked. Actually, he did look kind of strong, but that was besides the point.

"I mean it. I didn't want to embarrass you but you were literally wrecked, and I thought you'd hate me if I did anything. Guess either way you would've just hated me or something, I don't know. But look, I'm sorry."

You appreciated the apology, you supposed. "I don't hate you," you said lowly.

"Hmm," you were about to repeat yourself when you saw that smug look on his face, letting you know he definitely did in fact, hear you.

"Don't push your luck, Jackson," you pointed in his face.

"είσαι πολύ όμορφη όταν δεν με θέλεις να πεθάνω, ξέρεις."

"I'll figure out Greek one day, just you wait. I'll find out all the mean things you've been saying to my face," you laughed.

"I'm not insulting you. In fact, I never was."

"Well.. what are you saying then," you asked, and Percy just stared down at you, wondering whether what he was thinking would be a good idea or not. He decided to just stop thinking about it as he held your face and just kissed you.

When he pulled away, all he said was, "Like I said, nothing mean."

He went to walk out but you grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving. "Percy.. are you busy later?"

"I may or may not have detention after school," You raised your eyebrow. "I just didn't want to got to math. Shucks."

"Yeah, shucks." It got quiet. "I'll see you later though, right?"

"Right," he smiled, this time letting you through the door. When he followed behind you, he tried ignoring Leo peering out from the end of the hallway as he made his way to class.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

As fast as the school day started, now it was over. Well, not for Percy, who was currently stuck in detention, how fun. Percy was supposed to be writing an essay about why he was in detention and what he could do in the future to prevent him from coming back, but he was just drawing dicks all over his paper, chuckling to himself.

"No noises," the detention supervisor, or soccer coach, shouted out. Percy rolled his eyes, then he heard the door opening, and saw you walking through.

"Hey coach," you greeted as you walked toward the front of the room.

"Sorry Y/N but I'm a little busy," he huffed out as he turned his back towards the class and shuffled through some papers. As he did so, you turned over to Percy, signaling him. to make it over to the window by where the coach was currently facing. Outside the window was a ledge Percy could climb down from, giving him a release from detention. Except you may of whispered to loud, catching the attention of your coach.

"Well, um. I'm just here to talk about some strategies for next game," you said. Thinking of lies on the spot were actually kind of hard.

"And um, what is that?" He was now facing away the window, and Percy was slowly making his way towards it.

"I'm just giving you an idea, something off of what you told us. You know, the diversion plan."

"I taught you that," he questioned as he began to look around the room, but you stopped him by grabbing his face, before he notice Percy, or the lack of Percy.

"Yes you did. Basically we need to be there," you turned his head slightly one way, "Then making the other team turn the other way," you turned his head again and this time letting go.

"And how would we make them turn-" Percy made too much noise when opening the window. "What-"

So you used your last idea, "Like this!" You lifted up your top, no bra. Whoops! Hey, it worked, except Percy almost stopped before coming back to his senses and leaving through the window, finally. "Well, thank you for your time, it was duly appreciated."

You held your head down and laughed as you left the cheering classroom (yes, you have nice boobs, don't even girl), running to catch Percy outside. By the time you reached the front of the school, you were out of breathe. You saw Percy sitting down on the steps as you took a seat next to him.

"Nice 'diversion,'" he joked, caused you to softly punch his arm.

"What? Thinking on the fly is hard."

"S your best idea was to flash your tits to your coach?"

"You know what, if you want to stay here you go do that," you joked as you walked toward your car. Percy just laughed as he followed you.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

"Parlez-vous anglais," Charles read from his book, and Silena repeated back. They were practicing pronunciation as Charles spoke and Silena repeated.

"Est-ce que tu vas un jour me lever et m'inviter à sortir," Silena spoke up, somewhat agitated.

"What," he started flipping through his textbook. "I don't remember reading that."

Silena just rolled her eyes and walked off, leaving behind a very confused Charles.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

'ugh why can't boys take hints'

You laughed at your phone as Silena complained about Charles. Right now you were waiting downstairs in your car while Percy ran up into his apartment to grab a pair of swim trunks. After sneaking him out, you guys spent about an hour an half just driving around, doing nothing in particular. As the sun started to go down, Percy got the idea to eat down by the beach.

You were knocked out of your laughter when Percy banged your window.

"Hey there," he said as he sat back into the passenger seat. You just started driving back to your place for your own swimsuit, thankfully your dad was home to stop you. You grabbed a purple bikini and ran back to your car. "Finally, I'm starving."

"Yeah yeah, slow it down bigback you'll be fine,' you clapped back. You guys made your way to the closest dominos and bought a pepperoni pizza and some cinnamon bread twist (Percy's Treat!!). The smell alone made you want to salivate.

Finally making your way down to the basically empty beach, you laid down a towel as Percy placed the food down. You were both talking and laughing as you watched the sun set into the horizon. You both laid back and watched the sky fade as Percy turned toward you.

"Can I ask you something," he asked.

"Yeah?"

"How come.." he paused, as if trying to find the right words. "you know, you act the way you do?"

"Why I act like this?"

"Not in a bad way of course, but you aren't the friendliest at first, you know. Well yeah you know."

You chuckled, "I don't like doing what people want of me, or expect of me. Being like everyone else is so boring. Why live up to their expectations instead of my own."

"Makes sense, I supposed."

"He supposes," he rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"Can I ask you a question now?"

"Go ahead."

"What happened those eight months you went missing?"

He was quiet and you didn't know if you had taken it too far. "I don't know. Its like I was just asleep and woke up with.."

You tilted your head as he sat up and lifted his shirt. He was covered in scars. "Woke up with these," he finished.

You sat up close to him, and without even realizing it you started tracing them with your fingers. "Sorry, that must've been terrifying."

"Yeah, but it's okay, I guess. Not like I know what happened anyways," he grabbed your hand and held it. You looked up at him, and even in the moonlight, those sea-green eyes still sparked like the sun was beaming. And this time, you were the one who leaned in and kissed him. This really did make up for Friday night, huh.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

✰είσαι πολύ όμορφη όταν δεν με θέλεις να πεθάνω, ξέρεις - you're very beautiful when you don't want me to die, you know ✰Parlez-vous anglais - Do you speak English ✰Est-ce que tu vas un jour me lever et m'inviter à sortir - Are you ever going to stand up and ask me out

✰Taglist: @liviessun @lara20aral @balletfilmss @job-ross-the-second @brokecollegebitch @riaaavm @avihashearts4lix @huera-ne @zn0v1a @sofiacblair @itzjustj-1000 @that1nerd-20 (just lemme know if you wanna be added)

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #silena pjo #silena beauregard #charles pjo #charles beckendorf #charlena

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jennifer-jeong · 12 hours

Note

Okay so first, I really love your LnD fics (patiently waiting for more of your amazing works) 🥹🫶 and hear me out...

Reader who is reincarnated as a Fae being and has been alive since. But the thing is, her wings had been clipped off (with the use of silver chains, meaning she's vulnerable against silver) for a century and is in Linkon city since she feels that part of her (her wings) are somewhere hidden in the city (Think of Maleficent live action ig where her wings were taken from her) and meets the guys and so on :)

HI ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ASK AND YOUR KIND WORDS FJDSKLAFJSDL;A I APPRECIATE IT SM!! TY FOR INTERACTING!! I’m so glad to hear you like my fics and I promise more are on the way hehehe please do request me again if you have more ideas!!

I hope I did your prompt justice! I definitely did think a lot about maleficent when writing this hehehehe

[Fluff + Angst] [Love and Deepspace Boys x Fae!Reader] Angel

CONTENT

Angst to fluff, gender neutral reader, mentions of violence, blood, trauma, torture, healing alongside them, mutual pining between you and the boys, happy and open ended endings! ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

Your wings were a pretty and pearly milky white. Your wings resembled those of high flying birds. They were thick enough to allow gliding and also strong enough to give you lots of control in the air. They were iridescent in the sun and carried you high in the bright sky. The air was thin but more refreshing up there. You played with clouds and soared through the endless blue. It was freedom. It made you feel alive, warm.

It was your gift, but unfortunately, it was on someone else’s wishlist.

You’d never been a spiteful being, nor had you ever hurt a fly. But when silver chains ripped your flesh and tore your muscle to take your wings, severing your very soul from your body. When they destroyed your forest, your home, your family, your heart. You swore to make them suffer.

You were powerful and hunting these fools down was nothing difficult for you. The problem was hunting without your wings, your best weapon.

The lack of mobility and being forced to fight on the ground made it so that you could maim the weak ones, but you could never reach the ones who profited off the suffering of you and your people.

Linkon city is where they were. You knew this. You could feel your wings there. You also knew that you’d need to hide, figure out who did what and how to get your damn wings back. It would take time, but time was all you had as a fae. You’d do whatever it took to make them pay.

It’d take years, but it was worth it.

2 years later and you’ve already made moves to apprehend (and torture) a few key figures, always leaving them in front of the police station when you were done. You still had so much good in you and it always prevented you from killing. But it made you seethe that they were filthy fucking rich from what they stole from your homeland. They sold your resources and displayed your bodies, your wings, like they were trophies. Life was still cold and depressing for you but you did manage to make some friends in Linkon. They’d even help you with your mission. You only trusted them with the information because they had similar goals.

XAVIER

Xavier was a local policeman you had met a few decades into your plot when you were hired to help with the case. He was coincidentally also investigating illegal hunters and black markets selling goods stolen from other civilizations such as yours. It was a big ring of crime and he was determined to end the atrocities that were being committed in it. Meeting you was just extra motivation on top of his already relentless drive for justice. You became investigative partners since you were both capable in combat and often investigated the same people anyways.

Xavier was kind, gentle, quiet, and stronger than he let on. He always worked without expectation of reward and you appreciated that. You just wanted justice and he wanted the same. It helped that he didn’t seek publicity because it would’ve made your life harder since you were probably wanted as a vigilante from before. Xavier taught you his philosophies and you realized you’d been consumed by your desire for revenge, unable to enjoy life outside of it. You admired him for his morals, so you learned from him, and it made you two grow closer. He was more than happy to help, it was so rewarding to see you slowly become your bubbly self that he guesses you lost a long time ago.

He had his suspicions that you might be fae. The man was smart but he played his cards carefully, he always held them close. He acted aloof with you and pretended to not constantly stare at the back of your shirt, trying to see if you had imprints of missing wings on your shoulder blades. He also figured that your motivation for wanting to crack these cases came from somewhere. If he also managed to figure out that you’d been behind some of the previous mysterious arrests, he’d turn a blind eye. He knew your actions weren’t crimes. He felt glad that you got them back for what they did to you and your people.

After a few years of planned raids and dozens of arrests, one of the recovered items from the warehouse was a beautiful pair of wings. Still buzzing with magic, craving to feel the wind again. You felt them when they were being transported to the police HQ. The surge of energy that continued to approach you made you hold your breath and bounce your leg out of pure anxiety. Xavier put a hand on your shoulder to try to calm you down. He’d already figured out what was going on just by looking at you. You didn’t need to say a word. It was something that slowly came naturally since you two spent so much time together. You smiled and he smiled warmly back. You were in the middle of panicking because Xavier was still touching you when you were presented with your missing soul, your wings. You requested to view the “evidence” privately with Xavier and wasted no time in feeling your delicate wings with your fingertips again.

Xavier stood behind you, his right hand found its way to your upper back. He finally traced the outlines of your cut wings. It made you gasp at first, but you trusted him. As he continued to feel them, you shivered. They were scars, they were more sensitive. He stepped to your side and you turned to partially face him, his hand sliding off of you. You looked into his eyes and your longstanding feelings for Xavier were making their presence known by heating up your face, flushing your cheeks. You swore you saw a slight tinge of red on the tips of his ears too. He spoke to you in his familiar voice that you loved so much. He decided to tease you slightly.

“I think I always knew that you’d have wings, you were too perfect to not be an angel.”

ZAYNE

Zayne was a surgeon you’d met one day when he treated your wounds since you collapsed outside the hospital. He discovered the scars where your wings used to sit on your back. You were high off the morphine when he checked your back for more injuries so you barely even realized.

He questioned you but not in the way you expected. You thought he wouldn’t know what they were or try to take advantage of you. But instead he asked what you knew about the hunters that took your wings. He already knew exactly what happened to you just by looking. He was involved in cracking down on research related to Fae and Lemurians since there were people trying to fuse their genetics with these races to gain their beneficial traits such as immortality.

He knew some things you didn’t know and vice versa. You both began working on this together, investigating research facilities, interrogating suspects, and fighting only when needed. You were unstoppable and the law didn’t plan to ask you to let up. You both hand delivered them collectors and shadowy figures that had hid from the police for so long. When you fought, Zayne could both heal and attack from afar while you rushed them head on. You were unafraid because you believed in your partner, your trust in Zayne only grew as the years went on.

Early on, Zayne encouraged you to let go of the spite, the revenge. You knew he was right when he said that they did not benefit you in this. He saw the rage in you and could see that it was hurting you, mentally and physically. You listened, you knew better. You stopped the relentless tortures and instead, let the collectors rot in jail, but not before you got in a few good punches. Zayne watched you slowly come out of your shell again, actually taking the time to enjoy the little things in life instead of being hyper focused on revenge. He’d be lying if he said you weren’t one of the most rewarding patients he’d ever had.

Working with your partner was definitely quite the rollercoaster. He was always so professional and mature but would also randomly tease you as if you were kids, albeit with a fully deadpan expression. Zayne was reserved and often came off as cold but he made you so warm. You knew he was an extremely compassionate and kind person under his exterior and you admired him for it. Zayne also adored you in the same way. You had gone through so much pain and suffering but you still smiled and shined like the sun.

Over time you adapted to live without your wings but after one specific raid on a collector’s mansion, you knew exactly what the collector’s prized possession was because it belonged to you. You could feel your wings. They still surged with energy and upon seeing them when you went to do follow up investigation, you immediately called to them. They flew towards you and you inspected them, almost not believing the scene in front of you. Zayne stayed close ready to support you, especially if you were to fuse with your wings again, he knew it’d be hard to keep them hidden and it’d just bring up so much previous trauma.

You turned to face him slowly, leaving your wings behind you. You hesitated. Not letting your wings fuse with you yet. Zayne looked into your eyes, trying to comfort you with his presence. After a few seconds, Zayne held out his hand, you took it. His skin was cold but somehow it made yours burn, the heat spreading through your body as your face warmed up. He spoke quietly to you, telling you to take your time. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths, your thumb slowly caressing the back of Zayne's hand as he did the same back.

Zayne had always been good at comforting you with his words, maybe it just came naturally since he was a doctor. Regardless, you knew it was exactly what you needed right now. You didn’t know what you’d do after you got your wings back. Would you go home? Would you continue this mission with Zayne? Would having your wings make it harder? Would it make it easier? You confided in Zayne as you spoke your thoughts out loud. Once you were done, you were overwhelmed and he could tell. He started his reply with a sentence that filled you with warmth, hope, and a little bit of giddiness. He speaks, teasing you a bit at the end, his face flushing.

“It doesn’t matter what you are or if you have the wings or not, you’re beautiful and you should follow your heart… especially if it’s here.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel was a painter “looking for art or inspiration” that you met at an underground event where illegal goods were being sold, but you quickly figured out it was a front. Rafayel was a Lemurian, you sensed it immediately since you weren’t human. As a fae you had the ability to sense certain things, and so did Rafayel. Upon meeting each other at an art exhibition, you quickly exchanged information and agreed to meet up again the next day. You almost simultaneously revealed that you were both after the hunters that destroyed your homes when you finally got to chat alone.

The two of you start to frequent more underground events, both of you being well connected and hiding your true intentions very well. You use the events to gather information and then put your plans into action when your targets are alone. It worked amazingly well, you were both extremely skilled and efficient at what you did. It slowly chipped away at this network that shamelessly destroyed your beautiful homes.

Rafayel was a bit of a loose cannon. The man was so sweet and bashful one second and deadly serious the next. He was so gentle with you but didn’t hesitate when there was business that needed to be done. He could easily switch it on and off too. You were just glad you were on his side of this war.

Both you and Rafayel were out for revenge but something about your partnership changed you two. You both slowly helped each other heal, confiding your worries and traumas in each other. You were still both ruthless when it came to apprehending the people who did you wrong but the tortures stopped and the warmth returned outside of the violence. You two actually started to make good memories and live life instead of just trying to survive. You’d often watch the sunset over the ocean together, it was peaceful and you’d chat about anything and everything.

Eventually, after dozens of raids and missions, Rafayel finds weapons that used to belong to his family at the same time you find your wings again. You kept quiet until the mission was done, knowing you could feel your wings but not wanting to startle Rafayel. You looked at the weapons with him, you put your hand on his back to show your support for him. His eyes stayed glued on the knives and his face was a painful melancholic expression. You rubbed circles into his upper back with your thumb, hoping it could ease some of the pain caused by resurfacing memories.

After ensuring that the weapons would be sent to his personal studio, he continues to explore the mansion with you, following you while you find your wings. You communicated to him about your wings and he knew this would be tough for you too but you were both glad you had each other in this moment.

When you saw your wings in a display case at the end of one of the hallways, you bit back tears. It was a lot to take in. You passed millions of dollars worth of paintings to reach the most priceless thing in this whole building. Rafayel lags slightly behind you, wanting to give you a moment. You turn to face him, telling him that you don’t know if you want the wings back or not. Would they make you complete again? They can’t bring anyone back, can’t take away the pain. You couldn’t hide them like Rafayel could hide his true form, would it be a nuisance?

Rafayel makes his way towards you as you ramble, clearly distressed. He quickly envelopes you in a hug, letting you cry lightly into his chest, a painting of Lucifer on the wall next to you. You stay like that for a while. When he finally pulls back, he cups your face with his hands. You were his fallen angel, he wasn’t always great with his words but he truly spoke from the heart when comforting you like this.

“You never needed these wings to be complete, you’re ethereal with or without them. You’ll always be my angel, no matter what.”

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST<3 ||

#love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #xavier x reader #xavier fluff #xavier angst #zayne x reader #zayne fluff #zayne angst #rafayel x reader #rafayel fluff #rafayel angst #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace angst #lads fluff #l&ds fluff #j's silly ramblings

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thought--bubble · 3 days

Text

Taking a little breaky break

This is just a heads up for my small little group of people on here. I have come to call my friends. I just wanted to let you all know that I'm going to be taking a much needed respite from tumblr and probably discord, too. I am feeling lost, sad,overwhelmed, and confused.

I know it sounds silly or whatnot, but all of this stuff is overwhelming and depressing, and I feel sick when I open this app at this point.

The best word to use, I guess, would be winded, maybe?

I joined Tumblr in Sept 23, and at first, it was really fun, a much needed escape from my daily never-ending list of crap to do.

I unfortunately learned how crazy this fandom can get early on and the hard way. I had hoped that that was just a one-off due to my newbie ignorance and took it as a lesson learned for myself.

But it's starting to feel like the drama never fucking stops. It just keeps going, and nice people, kind people, just get dragged and ridiculed for seemingly no reason. I will pathetically admit that I am a sensitive soul, and the things I've read and seen have seriously negatively affected me.

When people are catty regarding people they don't like or that don't like them, I can usually reconcile that to a particular degree. People are, in fact, people. Not everyone is going to vibe with everyone, and people will make jokes at others' expense, and it isn't exactly mature, but it happens.

That is what I expected when I heard this was coming. Some catty shit slinging between people who don't like each other.

But that isn't all this was, and I'm having a really hard time with that. I even thought, "Oh maybe some moderately rude jokes here and there where you know cultural differences and stuff could account for that" like I'm from the northeast and we can be harsh out here. So something that may be offensive to someone from another area may be looked at here just as a joke made in poor taste.

I know I myself have made jokes or whatnot, but you would think certain things would be off limits.

I thought I could combat the negative with positives. Silly jokes, little messages filled with love, but even that isn't working at this point.

My heart hurts, and my brain hurts.

And all this stuff has made me question myself. I had a block list a mile long for the longest time. Filled predominantly with people I had never spoken to because I was scared, nervous, I didn't want to accidentally interact with a post of someone who would be upset that I did, I unfollowed blogs I liked based on this same principle. I just desperately did not want to make someone mad or uncomfortable and find myself back in some weird mean anon tornado.

I tried to sus out who would be bothered by my presence and who wouldn't. I can't even know if my thoughts on who may or may not be upset by me were based on my paranoia or a perception i developed or was potentially affected by outside sources.

Now, i just don't know what the hell is going on.

Sorry for the word vomit. Just wanted to be honest. There are some of us out here who are just standing around with question marks over our heads.

Maybe it's because I wasn't here for a lot of that other weirdness. Maybe it's because of early events that shaped my experience on this app, but I for sure 100% need a break.

I'm an odd duck and love this app mostly because it's the only site I've seen where others actively fan-girl over my favorite Ewan character.

But right now, not even my love for Will can keep me on this app, and for those who know me, that's truly saying something.

This post is not meant to badmouth anyone at all. Honestly at this point I couldn't bad mouth anyone because I'm fucking lost on who anyone really is or how they really feel about things, dude I'm just plain lost.

Thank you to those who have been kind. My apologies to those I may have judged or assumed things about based on who the hell knows.

I hope that when I come back, I can open this app without yet another person that I like having a post of them being torn apart. Or a post of a story that I had heard being told in a completely different way and throwing me for a complete loop.

For now I am going to watch Will edits on TikTok and maybe read via Ao3.

Love and healing vibes to all.

#To my lovelies #I'll be back #I'm just not sure when #hotd fandom

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everybodyshusband · 1 day

Text

ditching chores/sneaking kisses

mushy may ; day twenty one !! (approx 3.6k words)

read under the cut or on ao3 :)

this was meant to be romantic and it just turned very, very silly jdsfhd

————— 1 —————

The first thing Rain saw when he appeared in the summoning circle was a giant. Well, okay after he’d had a few seconds to fully take him all in he was pretty sure he was just an exceptionally tall earth ghoul, but giant worked well for the moment. When the noise, smoke and chaos calmed down, slithering back through the circle and into the ether of the pits, Rain tried to stand and take stock of his surroundings. Just as he managed to haul himself up into a standing position, something in his leg buckled but before he could hit the ground he found himself caught up in a strong pair of arms.

“Careful, kid. Don’t want you injuring yourself after only being here five seconds.”

Rain rolled his eyes. “Just because you’re a giant, doesn’t mean everyone around you is a kid, earthy.”

“Oh, he’s feisty!” Someone else’s voice rang out in the small stone room; a damp looking multi ghoul wrapped in an oversized grey blanket. He must be a new summon as well. “I think I’m going to like him.” His grin was sharp and infectious, Rain smiled back. Had he already made a friend?

The earth ghoul chuckled at their exchange. “My name’s Mountain. Do you have one?”

Rain tore his eyes away from the multi to pay attention to Mountain. “Uh huh,” he nodded. “Rain.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rain,” yet another voice spoke, but this one’s owner wasn’t a ghoul. His face was painted in intentional strokes of black and white, the markings around his eyes and cheeks clearly meant to resemble a skull and he was dressed entirely in liturgical vestments, his mitre bearing the mark of the Ghost Project. No way. Rain had heard whispers of a project of this nature in the Pit, nothing proven, nothing concrete; a division of the Old One’s church Up Top spreading His word through song all over the world. He hadn’t believed it at the time, it had all sounded too far fetched but… here it was.

“Papa Emeritus?”

The man—although he was a bit more than that if the rumours were true, wasn’t he—looked taken aback. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I do?” Rain was shocked that he wasn’t aware of his own fame. “In the Pit, there’s been rumours of what you’ve been doing for what feels like forever.”

Papa tutted. “Interesting… This is what Swiss told me earlier.” At Rain’s questioning head tilt he apologised. “Ah, of course! Sorry, that’s Swiss there.” He pointed to the newly summoned multi ghoul. Swiss poked a hand out of his blanket and waves, still grinning. “He was summoned only a few minutes before you were.” He continued pointing out and naming all of the ghouls in the room, there are so many more than Rain originally thought he saw, too caught up in being pulled up to a different world, he supposed.

After explaining the basics to Rain—introducing him to his new pack, laying out the exact purpose of his summoning, what his role will be if he chooses to accept it—Papa smiled and pat him on the back. “I think that’s more than enough information for now though, hmm? Mountain, how about you take Rain to get settled in and Aether, you can do the same for Swiss?”

“Sounds perfect, Papa,” Mountain smiled, squeezing Rain from where his arm is still wrapped around his shoulder; Rain was back on his feet now, but Mountain never let him go properly, presumably still worried he wouldn’t remain steady on his feet once he’d started to walk around the room.

“C’mon, Rain.” He began to wrap a blanket identical to Swiss’ around Rain’s shoulders. It was much warmer than it looked. “I’ll show you around the den and the grounds if you’re feeling up to it.”

Rain nodded. “That sounds nice, thanks, Mountain.”

Mountain smiled and Rain had just enough time to notice that one of his front teeth had a tiny chip in it. He squeezed his arm around Rain just hard enough to pull him closer to the earth ghoul and pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. Rain blushed “Cool! Alright, we’ve got a lot to cover. We should head off now before it gets too late.”

————— 2 —————

It had been a few weeks since Rain had been summoned now and he could happily say he was settling into life at the Ministry well. He was learning the parts for his music with Dew’s help and everyone said he and Swiss—who was taking his singing and guitar lessons from Dew, Aether and Papa— were progressing nicely. He wasn’t even the newest summon anymore! Two air ghoulettes had been summoned about a week after he and Swiss and they seemed to be adjusting well too. The four of them—Rain, Swiss, Cirrus and Cumulus—had become a group of their own of sorts. It wasn’t as if they didn’t spend time with the others, of course they did, but it was nice that the four of them were able to bond over being fresh to Earth and not understanding certain human customs that had evolved since the last time they’d all been Up Top when they were human.

He’d been settling into his chores now as well. His favourite, without a doubt, was helping Mountain in the greenhouses and gardens on the Abbey’s grounds. All he had to do was water the plants and regulate the humidity, but he was able to write off a whole day just to sit and talk with Mountain while he worked. Occasionally he’d lend a hand, but more often than not, Mountain insisted that Rain need not do anything but sit there and be good company for him.

His favourite day by far had been when he’d been helping the earth ghoul to weed and mulch his flower beds. The two of them had become covered in soil, roots and mulching hay and had ended the day by running off to the lake to clean themselves off, whooping with laughter the entire time. Before they’d run off to the lake however, Mountain had reached out a hand to brush a patch of dirt off of Rain’s cheek, no doubt leaving an equally dirty smudge behind in his wake but Rain didn’t mind. Especially when what had followed the brushing off was a quick, shy peck of Mountain’s lips on his cheek. The earth ghoul had come close enough for Rain to appreciate the light dusting of freckles covering his face from all his days working in the gardens, particularly concentrated on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Rain wanted to christen every single one with a kiss as gentle as the one Mountain had just given his cheek but before he could do so, the earth ghoul had pulled back and with a grin.

“Race you to the lake, raindrop,” he’d called. “Last one there is on dinner duty for a week!”

————— 3 —————

The few weeks after that had passed in a whirlwind of activity. Rain was busy every single day. Between taking on a few extra duties for a week or two as a favour for Zephyr after they’d been sequestered away to the infirmary and practising all the new songs he’d learnt on his bass at every single spare moment, he was running on empty. It was no surprise to anyone but Rain when he got sick.

“You were exhausted, waterlily,” Mountain explained gently as he stirred the bowl of soup he’d brought Rain to help cool it down. “You need to give your body and your mind space to relax from all the stress you’re putting yourself under. Open up?”

“I can feed myself, Mount,” Rain protested, keeping his mouth firmly closed.

“I know you can. But I want to help, so open.”

Rain rolled his eyes playfully as he opened his mouth for Mountain to spoon the soup into, holding back a sigh of pleasure as the warm soup soothed his scratchy throat.

“You need to find something you can do that lets you relax and release the stress of the day off of your shoulders,” Mountain explained, quickly putting a finger over Rain’s lips when he opened his mouth to protest. “Eat with your mouth closed, love,” he teased. Rain didn’t like to admit the butterflies that hearing the pet name in Mountain’s voice gave him, but it felt nice. “I know you have your bass, but at the moment it’s also stressing you out. It’s understandable, of course with the tour coming up soon, you want to be the best you can be before we head off.” Curse Mountain for always somehow knowing what Rain was going to say. “But at the moment it’s only going to make you worse if you’re stressing yourself out enough that you’re getting sick and unable to practise.”

Rain opened his mouth to protest again but this time, instead of telling him to be quiet, Mountain shut him up by putting another spoon of soup in his mouth, that bastard.

“Zephyr’s back from the infirmary soon though,” he mused. “So hopefully you’ll have less work to stress you out, but,” he continued. “If Zephyr’s still not up to doing everything when you’re better, you will ask someone to help you. A load meant for two people on top of practising for the tour isn’t sustainable or healthy for you, Rain. Can you promise me that?”

Rain nodded and quickly swallowed his mouthful of soup. “I promise, Mount. And… thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always,” Mountain smiled. “Are you sure you can manage feeding yourself the soup? I’m happy to stay if you need help,” he teased.

“I think I’ll be fine, thanks,” Rain grinned. You spooned those few mouthfuls perfectly though.”

Mountain laughed. “Good to know my skills aren’t going unappreciated.” He leant down and pressed a soft kiss to Rain’s forehead. His lips were surprisingly cool against Rain’s boiling head. “Call me if you need me for anything, alright? Any time of day and I’ll come running to help.” He got up off the side of Rain’s bed and flicked his bedside lamp on, flicking the overhead light off on his way to the door. Rain hadn’t even realised how the harsh light had been affecting him until Mountain turned it off. “Get well soon, Rainy,” he smiled, closing the door on his way out.

————— 4 —————

A few days after Rain recovered from his illness, he found himself back in the greenhouses, chatting the afternoon away with Mountain. Despite his offers to help, Mountain insisted that Rain just relax and not worry.

“I asked Mist to come in this morning and help with the humidity,” he explained. “You’ve met her, right? Oh, good! Either way, it’s all sorted, Rainy. Don’t worry about anything other than giving yourself time to rest.”

Rain had just nodded, secretly pleased for this time that he could spend with Mountain, free from chores and practice and responsibilities. It was autumn now and the leaves around the Ministry were turning every possible hue of orange, yellow and red. As well as this—and arguably more exciting in Rain’s eyes—Mountain’s army of caterpillars were beginning to emerge from their chrysalides as butterflies and flutter around the greenhouses. More than once, Rain had become somewhat of a butterfly magnet, with many of them landing on him after he’d sat still for a long enough period of time.

“Have you ever heard of butterfly kisses?”

Mountain’s voice was enough to startle both Rain and the butterfly that had found a perch on his finger. “Butterfly huh?” Was all the water ghoul could manage as he caught his breath from the unexpected fright.

“Butterfly kisses,” Mountain repeated. “They’re called that because it’s supposed to feel like butterfly wings caressing your skin.”

Rain tilted his head. The earth ghoul was so much less subtle than he thought himself to be. “I don’t think I get it,” he said, knowing full well the smirk on his face gave away that he understood exactly what Mountain meant. “Can you show me?”

Mountain grinned and nodded. “Give me your arm?” Rain obliged. “All I do is bring your arm up to my face,” he explained as he mimicked his words. “Then I get my eyes really close and blink, like that.”

Rain squirmed. “Ah, no, that tickles, Mount!”

The earth ghoul pouted exaggeratedly. “Do you think it will tickle on your face?”

Rain almost snorted. “You’re really not coming across as innocent as you wish you were, Mount,” he laughed. “But sure, go ahead, butterfly boy. Kiss me.”

Mountain obliged, moving even closer to the water ghoul, letting his breath ghost over his cheeks before fluttering his eyelashes over the soft skin there. His breath was warm but it soothed the tickle of his eyelashes enough that Rain didn’t have to squirm away. Although he’s not sure that he would have moved anyway, even if it had rendered him to a tickle-avoidant mess. He treasures his time with Mountain too much.

————— 5 —————

The night before the band goes away on tour is always cause for a big celebration, Mountain told him. This year, the Ministry is hosting a grand ball complete with fancy clothes—which is apparently just another way to say formal clothes, not fancy dress like Rain had hoped—and formal dances. The ghouls and Papa are all attending together and Mountain had already promised to stay with Rain for most of the night, not that Rain needed babysitting, but Sathanas, if he had to talk to an enormous room full of people for hours on end then he needed someone with him, if only to make sure he didn’t rip someone’s throat out if they tried to engage in yet another round of small talk with him.

It’s safe to say that Rain had… well, perhaps blossomed is the right word, in the few months since he’d been summoned. He was definitely more comfortable in telling people to fuck off before he killed them, at least. After a few months of trying to play the role of a human, he was finally growing more comfortable in presenting himself as the demonic hell beast he was.

A sudden hand on his shoulder interrupted his musings and made him jump.

“Sorry, raincloud,” Mountain soothed. “It’s just me.”

“How goeth the search for drinks, my dear sir?” Rain joked, recalling Dew’s complaints that these events always felt stuffy and overly formal, like those renaissance movies he pretends to hate.

“Alas, loyal comrade,” Mountain replied, playing along. “Lady Cumulus snatched them from mine own hand whilst I was returning to you with my spoils.” He got down on one knee and threw his hands up in the air. “How will you ever forgive me?”

Rain threw his head back laughing. “I’m sure I’ll survive, Mount. Now get up off the floor, you’re going to ruin your pants and Aether’s going to yell at you if he has to sew on another knee patch for you.”

“I’ll just ask Cirrus then,” Mountain retorted, obeying Rain all the same. “I’m still in her good books.”

“Nope. I think they’re conspiring against you. Remember last time you asked her to mend something she never gave it back?” He nudged the earth ghoul with his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure the two of them are convinced that if they slowly steal your clothes over time, eventually you’ll give up on wearing them altogether.”

“I– What?” Mountain spluttered. “If they want to see me naked they could just ask.”

“Yeah but they’re freaky,” Rain stage whispered. “They wanna make it happen…”

Mountain blushed, no doubt thinking of all the ways he could make it happen more quickly. Luckily for his sake, music soon began to trickle through the mingling crowds, inviting them all to begin dancing. How the Ministry got the speaker system to work so well, Rain would never know. Maybe they had hundreds hidden all throughout the ballroom?

His train of thought was interrupted by Mountain returning to their earlier game of jest, bowing low and holding out his hand. “Lord Rain of the-bedroom-right-down-the-hallway-from-me.” Rain couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up inside him from that. “May I please have this dance?”

He placed his hand in Mountain’s. “You may, Lord Mountain,” he smiled, thrilled when the earth ghoul bent down even further to kiss the back of his hand, stomach fluttering when he refused to break eye contact until his lips broke contact with Rain’s hand. “Come,” he announced, shifting his grip on Mountain’s hand to be able to hold it more normally. “Let us dance.”

————— + 1 —————

The tour bus is alive with energy. They’re only a few hours into their journey but all of them are buzzing with a mixture of nerves and excitement, even if all they’re doing is chatting amongst themselves quietly.

Swiss’ legs are currently thrown over Rain’s lap, the two of them gossiping quietly about their various hookups since being summoned. Rain is ninety percent sure Cumulus is listening in on their conversation but he doesn’t mind, she was the one who taught him how to do that thing with his tongue he was just explaining to Swiss.

“So…” Swiss leans in close and glances around furtively. The multi ghoul can never resist an opportunity for some dramatic flair. “When did you and Mountain hookup?”

“Me and Mount?” Rain asks, surprised. “We haven’t.”

Swiss sighs. “You don’t have to lie to me, Rainy, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I was just telling you all the ways Dew made me cry for him, I think we’re past the point of shame, rainbow.”

“I’m telling you the truth! We haven’t…”

“Oh, but you want to.” It’s not a question, it doesn’t need to be one.

“Of course I do, have you fucking seen him?”

“Have you fucking seen his dick?” Swiss leans in close and uses his hands to measure an obscene length. There’s no way he’s telling the truth. “Fucking huge, Rainy, it’s insane.”

Rain whines. “Don’t tease me, Swiss, fuck.”

“Fine, fine,” Swiss relents. “But you’ve at least kissed right? I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, there’s no way that nothing’s happened between you.”

“I mean… kind of?” Rain replies. “We’ve kissed but not… y’know, on the lips or anything?”

Swiss’ eyes feel like they’re boring a hole into his soul. When he speaks, his voice is deadpan. “Are you fucking shitting me, Rainy.”

“No?”

Swiss looks like he’s about to scream.

Aether’s voice calls out from his game of cards with Dew. “Swiss, are you alright back there?”

“No, I’m dying, Aeth,” Swiss yells back at the same time as Rain says: “He’s fine, he’s just being a dramatic prick.”

“What’s all this about a dramatic prick?” Mountain grins as he takes a seat next to Rain.

“Mountain!” Swiss says, moving forward fast as lightning to grab the earth ghoul by the collar of his shirt. “Why the fuck haven’t you kissed Rain yet, it’s killing me, Mount. You hear me?” He shakes Mountain back and forth violently. “Kill. Ing. me.”

“I’ve kissed him,” Mountain says simply, miraculously unperturbed by the seemingly wild multi ghoul shaking him around.

Swiss pulls him even closer before releasing him. “Show me.”

Mountain sighs and looks over at Rain for permission but he’s smiling and his smile is always so infectious that Rain can’t help mimic it the second he sees it pulling at the earth ghoul’s lips.

“I’ve kissed him here,” Mountain starts, kissing the top of Rain’s head. “And here, and here,” he continues, brushing gentle kisses over Rain’s cheek and forehead in mimicry of those events that feel like they happened a lifetime ago. “Then I gave him butterfly kisses all over his face.” Rain scrunches up his eyes to combat the gentle tickling sensation that Mountain’s eyelashes are spreading across his face. “And last night I kissed his hand, like this.” This time it’s Rain who offers the hand out first, Mountain taking gladly and holding eye contact the entire time, exactly like the previous night. “But you’re right, Swiss. There is one spot I’ve missed.” He takes Rain’s face in his hands, cradling it gently in his hands. Mountain barely has to open his mouth to ask before Rain is nodding vigorously and surging forward to connect their lips together with an elated sigh.

It doesn’t take much for Mountain to deepen the kiss and pull Rain onto his lap and as soon as he does, Swiss is whooping and running up and down the length of the bus singing praises. Rain leans back to take a breather just in time to see Dew yank Swiss down to sit with him and Aether, telling him to get a hold on himself. Rain doesn’t miss the way Dew smirks when Aether presses a wad of cash into his hand, sighing in defeat.

“I think they were betting on us,” he whispers against Mountain’s lips, resting their foreheads together as they both take a breather.

“Oh, they definitely were,” the earth ghoul confirms. “I heard Cumulus and Dew negotiating terms weeks ago. Droplet may have just won that money from Aether but he’s going to have to give it all to Lus now because we kissed on the bus, not just before we left the Abbey.”

Rain laughs in disbelief. “You sly bastard,” he huffs out. “Did you wait to kiss me just so Dew wouldn’t win the bet?”

“Yep,” Mountain admits proudly. “What?” He asks when he sees Rain shaking his head and laughing. “You didn’t expect me to let Lus lose, did you?”

“Of course not, Mount,” Rain assures him. “I’m far too scared of her.”

Mountain hums in agreement. “She’s fucking terrifying, I do not need to be on her bad side. Forgive me?”

“Hmm,” Rain teases. “I’m not sure… Kiss me again and we’ll see?”

#mushy may #day twenty one !!#rain ghoul #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #everyone from era iv is mentioned at least once #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #husband ficlets

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ana-chronista · 2 days

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Meow there 😸💛💛, I hope you are well 💛.

For the kiss prompt i would love bojure 17 ... to distract + 48 ... out of habit, please.

Have a nice day 💛💛💛💛💛

First, sorry for the delay - one of these came easier than the other but I wanted to wait until I could share both! (The one that was harder actually went through a whole premise change...) Secondly, thanks for the prompts - this is my first time writing Bojure! I hope I did it justice.

17 ... to distract

The thing about Jure is that he doesn’t get nervous. Bojan’s certainly never seen that look on him, and he’s fairly sure Jure would need a dictionary definition of the word before being able to confirm that he’s never experienced it in his life. “What time is it now?” No, what Jure gets is impatient. “It’s five minutes after you last asked, Muca.” Right now he’s little more than a vibrating ball of energy, hunched over and drumming on his thighs with his palms. “So why haven’t they called yet?” And Bojan gets it, he really does. The committee had told them they’d call by 11am to let them know if they’d been picked for next year’s Eurovision – because for all that there’s no national selection this year, there’s still a process to follow – and there’s nothing that puts you on edge quite like waiting to hear if you’ve managed to land the biggest opportunity of your career so far or not. Jan and Nace are at least twenty minutes into their stress smoke somewhere outside, and Kris is busy pacing the practice space below, organising and reorganising their equipment while speaking rapidly with someone on his phone in a voice too low to catch. Bojan had retreated to the loft to focus on his breathing, and Jure had joined ten minutes later, muttering something about feeling better from a higher vantage point. The fact is, they’re all more than a little tense as the seconds drag by, and he understands fully, a hundred and ten per cent, what Jure is feeling right now. “They just said around 11. It doesn’t mean they’re always going to be dead on, you know?” But his bouncing on the couch next to him is doing nothing to soothe either Jure or himself – in fact, it’s only agitating them both worse. “You’ve definitely got the volume up on your phone?” Bojan’s not sure he’s ever felt so incredulous as he does in that one moment of looking over at his friend. “Seriously, Jurček?” “Well, I don’t know!” Jure huffs in protest. “You might not.” “Do you not think that’s the first thing I would have checked?” He hates that his fingers are now itching to actually do just that. Irritation flares up white-hot inside of him, gritting his teeth and tensing his muscles. “I don’t know! Knowing you, probably n-” Bojan has moved before he even realises it, the only thought in his head that Jure needs to not be talking right now. Suddenly he’s pulled Jure close by his shoulder and the back of his head, crushing his mouth against the drummer’s to cut him off. There’s barely any time to register anything past the warmth of his lips before he breaks away “Boj-” Before he can start up again, Bojan reels him back in for another kiss, this time less hurried but more forceful. He can take it all in properly this time: how Jure’s mouth falls open for him, how he reaches up to brush Bojan’s hair back behind his ear, how much he pushes right back. Jure’s body has stilled now as though all of his energy is just being channelled into this one point of contact, and Bojan can’t pretend it’s not the same for him. His heartrate steadies and his muscles uncoil. It’s like the whole world has narrowed down just to the man next to him on the couch. In fact, it’s narrowed so much that it takes Kris calling him from the floor below to make him jolt back. “Bojan, answer your phone!” It’s only then that he registers his phone ringing at long last. Cursing, he fumbles to answer the call, answering Jure’s laughter only with a dig in the ribs that makes him squeal and squirm away even as Bojan does his best to sound professional and mature. When he next kisses Jure just five minutes later, it’s in celebration instead.

48 ... out of habit

Bojan can’t remember when, or even exactly how, the whole kissing thing had begun. If he had to guess, he’d put it somewhere within the first few months after Jure officially joined the band, probably at some party or on a night out with the others. He’s not even sure if he made the first move or if Jure did, but one of them must have done, because suddenly the tradition was born. Greeting each other for the first time after weeks apart? A kiss on the cheek. Saying goodbye after a night out? A kiss on the cheek. Congratulating one another after a successful gig? A kiss on the cheek. There were rules, of course, unspoken but still there. It had to be as over the top as possible. Why bother if it didn’t involve sweeping in, grabbing the other one dramatically, and landing the biggest, loudest, longest kiss on the cheek known to man? That was all part of the fun. Then, naturally, it became too funny not to do it all the time. Managing not to misplace a suitcase while travelling? Welcoming each other back to the room after five minutes? Celebrating a win in the never-ending Joker Out Uno tournament? No incident was too small to mark with another kiss on the cheek – jokingly, of course. And sometimes it might evolve to a kiss on the lips instead. Bojan did remember how that one had started, the time he’d come in too quick and accidentally caught Jure’s mouth instead as he turned his head. But the laughter had been instantaneous, and Jure had returned it with even more spectacle, so it was all fine. The rules remained the same for the odd time it happened, though usually it devolved into them wrestling to dip the other one first and laughing too much for them to ever make it to each other’s mouths.

And if anyone had ever asked, he’d have to say he’s never really thought about it. It’s not like he hasn’t kissed each of his other bandmates at one time or another, and he knows they’ve all done the same. They’re all just that tactile with each other, like good friends tend to be. So what if he and Jure have this long-running joke just between them as well? That’s also something that good friends do. And he carries on never really thinking about it – except for maybe the odd plan to ambush Jure in ever increasingly over the top ways – until one night in London. Or early one morning, really. It’s just after three, and while the others had dispersed to their rooms after they all bundled in from the pub, Bojan had decided to sit up for a while to work on the rest of the lyrics for their new song. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the buzz of enthusiasm had long since dried up once the words pinging around his mind decided that they just didn’t want to go onto the page properly. All he had to show for the last couple of hours were pages of increasingly frustrated scribbles and crossings out. “You’re still up?” Bojan jolts at the sudden noise, head whipping up. Jure is in the doorway, dressed for bed and hair all over the place. He’s clearly just woken up. “I thought I heard something.” he explains before Bojan can muster a reply. He nods towards the pages that Bojan had already given up on, torn from his notebook and now crumpled up and scattered by his feet. “Not going so great, huh?” The sound Bojan heaves in response as he buries his head in his hands is somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Caught up in his own frustration, he doesn’t realise that Jure has crossed the room until he feels the couch dipping next to him and a hand wrapping around his, pulling it from his face. All of a sudden he’s aware of just how much his own hand hurts from scratching away with the pen for so long as Jure smoothes out his fingers, kneading at cramped tendons and aching muscles. But before he can say anything – a protest that he should really get on with these lyrics or a joke that Jure should open a massage business as a sideline – Jure brings his palm up and presses his lips to it gently. The touch is barely there but it lingers for a moment longer than a joke should and Bojan finds that any and all words die in his throat. This isn’t something either of them have ever done before, but Jure’s eyes are still locked with his, calm and almost challenging. And then the moment is over. Jure gives his hand one last squeeze but doesn’t let go as he stands. “Come on. Come get some sleep. This can wait until actual morning.” It sounds so straightforward, so matter of fact, that all Bojan can do is nod and let him pull him to his feet. He’s right – there’ll be plenty of time later, and for now he’s got too many other questions on his mind to be able to concentrate.

#ana answers #fanfic #bojure

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bg3daydream · 20 hours

Text

Wine and Blood (Astarion x Tav)

Astarion x named male Tav (half-drow fighter called Ivar) Fanfiction

Summary: One-shot narrating the first night Astarion and Ivar spend together after the tieflings party. Ivar is already crushing on Astarion and I wan to think there're some feelings flourishing in Astarion too.

Notes and tags: +18. There's blood drinking, sex (thigh riding and oral) and mentions of briefly dissociating during it but it's resolved. Also English not being my first language.

Words: 5k

Ivar smiled as he looked around the camp and the people celebrating. The party had been going for hours now and most people were already in different stages of drunkenness. Everyone seemed to be happy for once, having fun, which was good…

Well… Everyone but one, it seemed.

Astarion was standing outside his tent, looking around with a disdain better suited for a spoiled cat, grimacing as he took sips from a bottle of wine.

Ivar rolled his eyes at the sight but couldn't help his smile as he approached Astarion.

“Having fun I see…” He joked and Astarion scoffed.

“Not as much as you seemed to be having with Shadowheart before…”

Ivar should have seen it coming. Astarion was fond of teasing him about what he called his “silly crush on Shadowheart,” and Ivar wondered what would the vampire think if he knew that the silly flutters in his belly when he looked at him were even worse.

He'd tried to ignore it first, then fight it. It made no sense, it was ridiculous. No matter how attractive Astarion could be, he could also be just as mean, Ivar knew those feelings were a bad idea, he knew he shouldn't trust him the way he did.. Yet there he was.

“We were just talking and drinking,” he finally said. “Having fun, like everyone…besides you, it seems.”

“Oh, but I do want to have fun!” Astarion huffed. “But all I got is drunk tieflings and vinegar for wine.”

He gestured around dramatically with the bottle and Ivar reached to take it from his hand, taking a sip of the wine. It was good, Astarion had no reason to complain, although Ivar had a theory that he was not going to share and maybe get a grumpier vampire.

“So, what would you do for fun, then?” Ivar asked. “Drain a couple of tieflings? Kill Gale perhaps?”

“Oh, darling, nothing so dramatic.” Astarion dismissed his words with a theatrical wave of his hand, smirking and looking him up and down. “I just want to have sex.”

Ivar almost choked on the wine. “Oh.”

“With you, I mean,” Astarion elaborated when Ivar didn't say anything. “Hells, you really can be dense.”

“Really?” Ivar gave him a doubtful look… If this was a joke he didn't want to fall for it and make a fool out of himself.

“I'm starting to reconsider, I think I deserve someone with a working brain…”

Ivar huffed. “With you, one never knows when you're serious and when you're laughing at us.”

“Darling, I can do both at the same time.” Astarion chuckled before smirking, giving him a look that made something twirl in Ivar’s belly. “So… Do you want to?”

Did he want it? Yes. Was it a good idea? No. Was he already nodding? Yes.

Astarion’s smirk went bigger, and he seemed so smug and pleased with himself that Ivar was almost tempted to say no. Almost.

“Then I'll see you later, when everyone else is a bit more…mellow. We'll find each other in the woods.”

Astarion waved towards the direction and Ivar nodded, wordlessly, before walking away, wondering if that conversation had really happened.

Ivar looked at the blanket he'd spread over the ground, the bottle of wine, and the glasses… he was already regretting it, why had he done that, Astarion was going to laugh at him…

But if he came back carrying everything after Karlach helped him sneak the bottle of wine from Shadowhear’s good stash, after admitting what he wanted it for, she was going to laugh in his face.

He decided to stop being an insecure idiot and go find Astarion. He didn't need to go far to see him, leaning against a tree. He was only wearing his trousers and Ivar tried not to stare at his body.

“There you are…” Astarion smiled as he approached. “I've been waiting… waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

His speech sounded rehearsed… And odd, considering the first time he saw him, Astarion tried to threaten him with a dagger, without much success. Ivar decided not to comment on that, though, let Astarion have his moment.

“You don't have me,” he said instead, as if that could cover how much he wanted to brush his hands over Astarion’s exposed skin, or the fact that he'd gotten them wine and all.

It didn't seem to sound convincing and Astarion arched an eyebrow, smirking.

“But you're here… And I don't think you want to talk.” Honestly? Ivar didn't think he would mind having a real talk with Astarion, but he kept going before he could say anything. “No. I think that you want to be known. To be tasted…”

The speech was still sounding rehearsed and it was making Ivar feel a bit odd. Besides, he was not the only one there.

“And what do you want?”

Astarion blinked at him, almost as if taken aback, his smile faltering for a second, but then he was smiling again. “Pleasure. Our… collective ecstasy. Isn't that what you want?”

Those words were still so odd and rehearsed, but maybe if he commented on it, Astarion would get upset, so Ivar decided not to say anything about it even if it was making him feel a bit weird.

“I, uh… Yeah but… Just…come here a moment,” he gestured towards where he’d left the blanket and the wine. He'd gone through all the trouble to get it ready and he was going to use it, even if at risk of Astarion laughing at him for that.

Astarion wasn't moving, his smile was gone and he was frowning. “What…where…what are you getting me into now.” He sighed disapprovingly.

“Nothing.” Ivar rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

He began walking and Astarion thankfully seemed to decide to indulge him, following him, and soon the blanket and everything else were on sight.

“Oh… You got us a picnic, how… Sweet.” Astarion’s words were as teasing as his smile.

“Don't you dare to laugh…” Ivar muttered, self-conscious, while he sat down on the blanket.

Astarion laughed anyway, but it didn't sound malicious. “Come on, darling… I think it's cute.”

Ivar scoffed, but he was glad Astarion wasn't openly making fun of the whole thing. As the vampire sat down too, Ivar took the wine and filled a glass, which he passed to Astarion.

Astarion took a sip and grimaced. “And you went to all this trouble to still bring me vinegar. Delightful.”

“This,” Ivar began, taking the glass from Astarion’s hand and sipping the rich wine. “It's probably one of our best bottles. I think it tastes like that for you because you're a vampire. For the blood thing and all that…” He wondered if he was being too blunt. He hoped not.

“Oh…oh…” Astarion scoffed. He seemed upset and Ivar regretted his words already. “Yes, wonderful. Just another thing that was taken away from me.”

“I'm sorry…” Ivar murmured and Astarion just scoffed again, giving him a smile that felt closer to a snarl.

“So, you knew that and still decided to bring me wine I couldn't drink when all I was asking for was sex. You really know how to woo someone.”

“It was just a theory.” Ivar really hoped he hadn't fucked this up already. “And I had something else in mind if it was true.”

He reached for a knife that he'd placed next to the blanket, and Astarion seemed alarmed for a second. Ivar wondered if he thought he might hurt him… The idea tasted bitter in his mouth.

With Astarion watching him carefully, Ivar held the pad of this thumb to the blade, carefully slicing it just enough to draw blood, ignoring the sting.

Astarion seemed confused and surprised, but it was nothing compared to how he looked when Ivar reached to smear the blood from his thumb over the vampire's pretty, plush lips.

In the second that it took for Astarion to react, a million panicking thoughts went through Ivar’s mind. Why had he done that, it was too odd, Astarion was going to think he was a weirdo or worse…

Then Astarion was licking the blood from his thumb before sucking it into his mouth, smiling, and the sight and feeling had warmth pooling in Ivar’s belly.

“Now…that's what I call a nice drink,” Astarion said before giving his thumb another lick, holding Ivar’s hand in place.

He sucked on his thumb again before brushing his lips to Ivar’s forearm. He expected a bite, he'd let Astarion feed from his forearm once after a fight, but instead now Astarion just kissed it, smirking as he looked at Ivar.

Then he let go of his arm and reached to place his hand at the back of Ivar’s neck, pulling him close while leaning to kiss his lips.

Ivar’d be embarrassed to admit that he almost melted at it, hands brushing over Astarion’s cold and soft skin, pulling him closer as they kissed.

Without breaking the kiss, Astarion pushed him to lie on his back, leaning over him, and Ivar felt him smile against his lips at the sound he let out when he pressed his body to his.

Ivar shuddered when he felt Astarion’s cold hand under his shirt, caressing over his stomach and up to his chest, pulling his shirt up as he went.

Ivar broke the kiss just enough to take off his shirt completely, discarding it to the side and letting Astarion push him to the ground again.

He was a bit embarrassed by the sound he let out at the feeling of Astarion’s chest brushing against his own as they kissed, but the thought was soon gone as Astarion moved from his lips to kiss down his throat, his collarbone, his chest…

He almost whined when Astarion stopped, leaning back.

“Let me drink,” he all but purred, eying his neck, his sharp nails caressing it as if there could be any doubt about where he wanted to drink from. “This,” he said as he held his hand, before sucking his thumb. “Was but a tease, darling…”

Ivar considered it… He’d let Astarion drink from him already, even if not from his neck, besides he was the one who had, indeed, teased him by bleeding his thumb, and he was giving him such a look…

It seemed he was thinking it too long for Astarion’s patience, he was already leaning to his neck, and Ivar was about to give him an earful about drinking without waiting for him to say yes, but instead of his fangs, he felt Astarion’s tongue licking a strip up his neck, making him gasp.

“Okay…” He gave in. “But… Ask nicely first.” If Astarion could turn him into a shuddering, embarrassingly needing mess, then at the very least he could try to tease him a bit.

“Oh?” Astarion pulled back to look at him with an arched brow, seeming amused. “And how would that be? Oh, strong warrior, let me drink your delectable blood?”

Astarion really had a gift for making beautiful words sound like he was laughing at you. It was admirable, really.

“I was thinking more about you saying please.” Ivar grinned, enjoying the look of disbelief on Astarion's face, his dignified huff. “Come on…” He stretched his neck, showing off the place where Astarion’s tongue was a minute ago, while his hands caressed his cold chest.

Astarion rolled his eyes with another huff but decided to indulge him. “Please?”

Ivar grinned at the victory, petty or not, choosing to ignore Astarion’s mocking tone. “Go ahead.”

“Cheeky little pup…” Astarion muttered as he buried his face into his neck.

Ivar felt the sharp pain of his fangs, then the blood flowing, but the pain was soon numbed… Yet, he could still feel every lick of Astarion’s tongue, every suck of his lips.

Astarion pressed against him even more as he eagerly drank, letting one of his hands drag down his chest, nails scratching ever so slightly, pressing him to the ground, while his other hand rested on his head, grabbing his hair, holding him in place.

The sounds that Astarion soon began making combined with the feeling of his tongue and lips, his body pressed to him, his hands… It was all going straight to Ivar’s dick and he writhed under Astarion, hips thrusting up helplessly.

When his growing cock brushed against Astarion's leg as he moved, Ivar let out a muffled moan, holding tighter to Astarion.

Astarion noticed and he tore himself from Ivar’s neck to look at him with a smirk. He didn't say anything, though, didn't tease him, instead he shifted to place his thigh between Ivar’s, rubbing it purposely against his groin, his devilish smirk growing at Ivar’s reaction, his moan as he hit back against Astarion’s thigh.

Ivar cursed as Astarion kept the motion of his thigh, tilting his head back, and Astarion took advantage of that to dive back into his neck.

Astarion went back to drinking, but Ivar was sure some of the sucks and licks with which he was lavishing his neck weren't strictly necessary to drink his blood… Not that he'd complain.

Ivar held to Astarion’s shoulder with one hand, the other flying to the back of the vampire's head, burying his fingers in his hair, which earned him an approving sound from Astarion, muffled against his neck.

Ivar didn't care about his own needy noises, grinding against Astarion’s thigh while the vampire responded in kind, rubbing against him.

It was too much, a lick of Astarion’s tongue had him shuddering, just at the same time his thigh pressed and rubbed against his straining dick in a particularly nice way, and before he even knew it, Ivar was coming, fingers digging into Astarion’s shoulder, pulling him even closer, which he let him do, burying his face even more into his bleeding neck.

Ivar panted, torn between enjoying the way he was feeling or trying to regain some semblance of control of himself.

Astarion was still drinking from his neck, but it was slower this time, lazy licks alternated with gentle kisses across his neck, and it felt so good Ivar was tempted to just lie there, eyes closed, and let Astarion do as he wished, but finally, the embarrassment won.

“I, uh…I don't… Don't usually…” He didn't usually what? Come inside his pants? Embarrassingly soon? Let vampires drink from his neck? Come while they drank his blood? Yeah, all of that.

Another lick and then Astarion pulled back from his neck to look at him. His smile was teasing but not mean.

“Darling… I really don't care.”

His lips were covered with Ivar’s blood, dripping down his chin, and it had smeared his cheeks and even nose too from rubbing his face against Ivar’s neck and bleeding wound.

“You're a mess…” Ivar murmured while he reached to train a droplet of blood on Astarion’s cheek. “How do you manage to look good even like this?”

Astarion’s smile grew. “Oh, darling… I always look good,” he purred. “I have to say, blood wasn't looking bad on you either today when you killed those goblins.”

Was Astarion paying him a compliment? Ivar felt like teasing him a bit for it but it wasn't worth the risk of Astarion maybe never doing it again.

He just smiled, cupping Astarion’s cheek, and the vampire leaned down to kiss him.

Ivar didn't care that Astarion’s lips were smeared with his blood. He was a fighter, he didn't mind blood anymore, and he had tasted his own already, from bleeding noses to broken lips. It was much, much better to taste it from Astarion’s lips.

Ivar made himself pull away from the kiss just so he could roll over, carefully dragging Astarion with him so now he was the one on his back with Ivar pressed against him.

Astarion seemed surprised by the sudden movement, his body going rigid, brows furrowing, and so Ivar pulled back to take a good look at him, in case he didn't like the change of position.

“Okay?”

He felt Astarion’s body relaxing under his again and the vampire nodded, sultry smile back on his face.

Before Ivar could ask him if he was sure, Astarion sat up to lick a droplet of blood that had dripped from Ivar’s neck down to his chest, trailing it with his tongue before burying his face in his neck to drink his blood again.

Ivar shuddered with a gasp. This was not what he had in mind, he was supposed to be the one making Astarion moan and feel good, beyond letting him drink his blood.

Ivar pushed Astarion back to the ground, looking at him to try and make sure he was okay with it, and when the vampire looked at him with a smirk and an arched brow, he leaned down, pressing his body to his again.

“Don't get greedy,” he whispered teasingly before kissing Astarion’s lips.

Ivar began sliding down Astarion’s body, hands caressing smooth, cold skin as he went, placing kisses on that chiseled body, over his chest, down his stomach…

“You don't have to…” Astarion murmured.

“I want to,” Ivar replied, looking up at Astarion’s face. “If it's okay. If you want to?” There was a beat before Astarion nodded. “Yeah?” Ivar asked again.

Another nod. “Yeah.”

Ivar went back to placing kisses over Astarion’s stomach, lips brushing down to his belly, kissing until he reached the waistband of his trousers.

“Can I keep going?” He asked, kissing Astarion’s lower belly when he whispered a yes. Another kiss and he pulled back to look at Astarion, hooking his fingers on the waistband of his trousers and underwear. “Can I?”

Astarion nodded, his eyes dark crimson as he looked at Ivar. “Yeah.” He lifted his hips to help Ivar peel both his trousers and underwear off him.

Ivar got situated between Astarion’s legs again. He kissed his thigh, then his hipbone, until he reached his cock, licking the length of it slowly.

Astarion’s shuddered moan as his hips hit up had Ivar smiling. He gripped the base of Astarion’s shaft with one hand, placing the other on his thigh, and he slid his mouth down Astarions cock, which rewarded him with another moan.

He looked up at Astarion’s face as he sucked on his tip and the sight of the vampire, eyes closed, brows furrowed in pleasure, mouth open with another strangled moan, almost made Ivar moan himself.

The noises that Astarion was making as Ivar kept going, mouth sliding up and down his cock, were music to his ears and, in all honesty, to his ego.

One of Astarion’s hands was clawing at the blanket under them and Ivar reached up to hold it, unsure of how Astarion might react and if he might just slap it away.

He didn't, instead, he held it, intertwining their fingers and squeezing his hand.

Suddenly, though, Astarion’s hand went limp on his. The way his hips were moving and even the sounds he was making felt… Different. Ivar couldn't explain why, but something didn't feel right.

He pulled back to look at Astarion, who at first didn't seem to notice but then gave him a sultry smile… It was so different from his face of pleasure before, though…

"Are you okay?" Ivar asked and Astarion frowned.

"Yeah."

"Really?" Ivar didn't want to be pushy or ruin the mood, but still, something didn't feel right.

"Yes… I just got… A bit distracted. Didn't mean to…" Astarion frowned, lips pursed, but soon he was wearing his devilish smile again. "I'm sorry, darling," he purred, sliding down his hand towards Ivar’s groin, but he stopped it.

The fact that Astarion'd gotten distracted while he sucked his cock was a bit discouraging, but Ivar was most worried about how something felt off.

"Don't be, just… We can stop." He wouldn't mind and he hoped Astarion could see it. "It's okay, I don't mind."

Astarion opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it. His sultry smile was gone, frown on his face, and Ivar was about to move back when he spoke.

“No… No, I don't want you to stop.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Keep going.” Astarion’s hand went back to holding Ivar’s and his hips wiggled ever so slightly. “Please.”

“Okay…okay, just…tell me if I do something you don't like…” It was awkward to tell him that, but it was better than the alternative… Better safe than sorry.

“Wasn't you…” Astarion muttered but he didn't elaborate and Ivar decided not to press the matter more for now.

With his mind set on making sure Astarion was enjoying this, Ivar lowered his mouth to his cock again, eyes on Astarion’s face. He was slow at first, a bit tentative even, waiting to notice his reaction to everything.

As Ivar’s lips slid down his cock, Astarion hummed, eyes closed, his hand holding Ivar’s tighter when he dragged his lips back up, sucking, making him moan in a way that, thankfully, sounded good and real again.

Astarion’s free hand moved to Ivar’s head, seemingly of his own accord, but he moved it away when he realized it. Ivar reached for it, though, taking it to place it on his head again.

He was okay with it, let Astarion show him what he wanted from him, and he moaned on his cock when Astarions’ fingers grabbed his hair roughly.

Ivar kept going, letting Astarion guide him and take from him what he pleased, enjoying every sound that the vampire let out, every soft moan, quiet whimper, and grunt, until Astarion reached his climax with a strangled cry.

Astarion’s back arched up, hand holding Ivar’s head in place but he didn't mind, just swallowed his release as he kept licking and sucking until Astarion let go of his head.

Ivar kissed Astarion’s hip, then his thigh before moving back to look at him. He'd covered his eyes with his arm, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile, and he looked damn beautiful as always.

Ivar moved from between Astarion’s thighs to lie on his side next to him. He reached out a hand towards the vampire but stopped, even if it felt a bit foolish to be uncertain about touching him after he just sucked his cock.

“Was it… Okay?” Ivar asked even if he felt insecure and kind of stupid doing so. “Did you like it?”

Astarion moved his arm from his face, turning to face Ivar too. “Yeah…yeah, I actually enjoyed that.”

“You sound surprised…were you expecting me to be bad at it?” Ivar didn't know if he found it funny or embarrassing.

Astarion rolled his eyes at him but didn't say anything.

Ivar sat up, reaching to take a bottle of water he'd brought, besides the wine, taking a big gulp of it.

“What? No drink for me?” Astarion purred, looking at his neck.

“Gluttony doesn't look good on you,” Ivar joked and Astarion smirked.

“Darling, I thought we had agreed everything looks good on me.”

Ivar rolled his eyes again but his smile betrayed him. He looked around the blanket until he spotted the cloth he'd also brought and he picked it up, pouring some water from the bottle on it.

“What are you doing?” Astarion asked.

“Cleaning the mess we are.” Ivar reached the cloth towards Astarion’s face but didn't touch him. “If that's okay.”

Astarion nodded and so Ivar carefully dabbed at the dried blood on his face with the wet cloth, dragging it over his lips and chin, washing him clean, and Astarion let him do it with his eyes closed.

He opened them when Ivar stopped to refold the towel and pour water on it again. This time he reached towards Astarion’s groin, again stopping before touching him, waiting until Astarion nodded.

When he did, Ivar gently brushed the wet cloth over Astarion’s hips and thighs, his belly, his cock, cleaning him of cum and also blood that had dripped from Ivar’s neck.

Astarion let him do it in silence, looking at him intently, in a way Ivar couldn't quite place but that felt… Good.

Once he finished with Astarion, Ivar moved back to remove his own pants and take off his underwear, ruined from when he'd come before… He really hoped he could wash them without anybody seeing him.

Pouring more water on the cloth, he hastily washed his own mess. When he reached to press the cloth to the wound on his neck, though, Astarion stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“I can take care of that, darling…” He moved to bury his face in Ivar’s neck.

“You're getting so greedy…” Ivar tried to sound teasing but the feeling of Astarion’s lips on his neck had him shuddering, eyes closed.

“Oh, but you like it…” Astarion said against his neck, licking over the wound. It had stopped bleeding but Astarion sucked on it as if trying to draw more blood. “I saw it.”

Ivar said nothing, sure that nothing dignified would make it past his lips, and he felt Astarion chuckling.

He looked up from his neck to kiss his lips again. Ivar wasn't expecting it and he hummed into the kiss, pleased, arms reaching to hold Astarion, who pushed him to lie down on his back on the ground again, with him between his open legs.

Another deep kiss, and then Astarion moved back to his neck, making the almost closed wound bleed again, just slightly.

Ivar fell asleep like that, with Astarion lying on top of him, face buried in his neck, lazily tonguing at the reopened wound.

The sunrise didn't wake Ivar, who was sure never had slept like that, almost like he was knocked out. It was Astarion’s body moving away from him as the vampire got up that woke him.

His eyelids didn't seem to want to cooperate and he had a bad headache but Ivar finally managed to open his eyes. When he tried to sit up on his forearms though the world spinned before focusing on Astarion.

He was facing the sun, body open to it, eyes closed, face relaxed… Ivar wondered if he'd ever get used to how beautiful he was.

There was a scar on his back, big, intricate, almost like some sort of scar tattoo, and Ivar wondered what the hells could it be. It looked odd on Astarion. He wasn't sure how the vampire might react if he asked him about it, though.

Ivar tried to get up but not only did the world spin again, it felt almost as if his head was going to fall off his shoulders. He felt so lightheaded and weak…

Just how much blood had he let Astarion drink from him? He should be more careful next time, or at least bring some scrolls of healing or restoration, maybe something to eat at the very least…

Would there be a next time, though? Was this just a post-party one-night thing for Astarion? Ivar didn't know… He didn't want it to be just that, but he didn't know what Astarion might think or how to bring it up to him.

He groaned, trying to get up again, giving up and falling back down, covering his face with his arm. Astarion heard him and he turned around to face him, arching an eyebrow.

“I definitely let you drink too much…” Ivar complained.

“Oh, way to be dramatic, dear.” Astarion dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Is a fighter not used to a bit of blood loss? ”

Astarion reached to take his clothes, picking up Ivar’s trousers too and throwing them to his face

“Come on, it's past time we left.”

Ivar grumbled a complaint but sat up, squeezing his eyes tight and trying to put on his trousers blindly.

Astarion was already done with his own by the time Ivar was finished, and for a second Ivar considered reaching for the vampire's hand as he tried to get up, but decided against it.

He managed to get up, even if a bit wobbling, the world spinning again, head pounding.

His eyes landed on Astarion, standing closer than he'd realized, beautiful even looking like he was about to laugh at him.

“Fuck, I want to kiss you,” Ivar hadn't meant to say it aloud and he felt like face-palming.

“Oh… Do you, now?” Astarion was looking way too pleased with himself and Ivar wanted to kiss that smug look off his face.

“Yeah… Can I?” Ivar wondered if he should be embarrassed at being acting like that… he wasn't.

“Mmh…” Astarion made a show of thinking it over. “I’ll allow it,” he finally said in a way better suited for a spoiled cat allowing pets.

Leaning down, Ivar kissed Astarion’s lips, in a softer kiss than the ones they had shared last night, deepening it when he felt Astarion’s hands on his waist, holding to him. He could get used to this. He didn't want to think this might be the last time he kissed him.

Astarion was the first to pull back but his hands lingered on Ivar’s waist like a soft, cold touch.

“You know…” Astarion began, looking at Ivar in a way he couldn't quite place. “This was… Not what I had in mind last night. But it was nice. Really nice.”

Ivar wondered if he was smiling like a fool and found that he didn't care if he was.

“Now…” Astarion pulled back and waved a hand toward the blanket and everything else. “You better rush to pick all this up or by the time you get to the camp, hungover tieflings will have eaten all breakfast. See you later, darling.”

With that, Astarion began walking towards the camp.

It’d have been nice of him to offer to help him pick up everything and clean up, maybe offer to bring him some breakfast…but Ivar hadn't expected it.

He watched Astarion until he disappeared among the trees before he began picking up the wine and water, blanket, and everything else.

He wondered if and when he'd get to share another night with Astarion… He wondered too just how foolish his smile looked as he thought of it, but found he didn't care.

Now he just needed to find the right moment to ask Astarion.

NA:

Excuse Ivar sometimes, he just got charisma 8. But he's a sweetheart.

Thanks for taking the time to read this.

If you liked it, please let me know in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

This scene lived in my head and I had to write it, even if I know not many people would be interested in my own tavs. Thanks if you gave it a chance.

If you want to read more about Astarion and Ivar (or any other of my tavs) or have requests for Astarion fanfics, I'm all pointy ears.

Excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

#astarion #astarion fanfiction #astarion romance #astarion x tav #tavstarion #astarion x oc #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #astarion bg3

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miyamizuna · 2 days

Note

How about sweet Tadashi Yamaguchi? He's current concern is that all cute girls that come over to talk always just want to talk about Tsukki... How about some girl finally changes it?

OMG OMGOMG I LOVE HIS CURRENT CONCERN ITS SO CUTE.

this isnt exactly hcs.. i jus thought this would be such a cute mini fic

wait… YOU MEAN ME?

ft. yamaguchi tadashi w.c: 689 warnings: literally none just fluff also female reader

Yamaguchi Tadashi, many words can be used to describe him; shy, unconfident, and the boy who's always with Tsukishima. It's because of this unconfident nature that caused him to always think that every girl to come up to him does not want to talk to him, but rather Tsukishima. His theory was proved right after girls only wondered where to find Tsukishima. Perhaps he wished it was the other way around; that girls would talk to him instead of Tsuki, maybe even girls talking about himself to Tsuki.

"Um, excuse me!" a voice calls out to Yamaguchi as he stops in his tracks down the hallway. The voice was one of a girl. Taking that into consideration, he used his usual reply;

"Tsukishima is in the library," he stated as he turned around to greet the voice that called out to him.

His eyes meet one of a very pretty girl as he feels his face getting flustered. Yup, this girl is definitely looking for Tsuki he thinks as he continues to look at her.

"huh? Why would I be looking for Tsukishima?" The girl tilts her head in confusion as she looks at him with a questioning look.

"O-Oh I'm sorry! Is there anything you need?" He replies with a stutter as his. "...Or did you even need anything?" he adds to his previous question out of clear nervousness.

The girl just simply smiled at him, she played with the hem of her skirt with her left hand; her nervousness clear as day.

“Well, I suppose you could say I needed something from you.” she then averts her eyes, from his, as a rose-tinted blush appeared amongst her cheeks. “ I would like to get to know you better.”

Yamaguchi is taken aback by her statement. What girl would want to get to know more about him? Isn’t Tsukishima the interesting one between the two of them? He knew his whole thought process surrounding girls stemmed from his self-confidence issues. Even on the volleyball team. He is the only one of the 1st years who isn’t a starting member. How can someone like him be appealing to a girl?

“Hey! Are you okay..?” The girl says now placing a hand on his cheek to feel his temperature. “Oh no! You’re burning up.” she lets out as her face softens into a worry.

How long had he spaced out? Did he completely short-circuit? Did he say someone he wasn’t supposed to say?

“I-I’m fine!” he manages to get out after his mini panic. Just then the girl takes her hand off of his cheek and sighs in relief.

“I’m glad that you’re okay! You had me worried for a bit!” she tells him, expressing her worry in her tone of voice. “Oh! I should tell you my name! I’m (l/n) (y/n).” she with her cheeks still rose-tinted, extended her hand out to him as a gesture of a handshake.

Yamaguchi looks at her hand and then softly smiles and accepts her handshake, relaxing his tense posture for once. “Nice to meet you (l/n), I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

As the handshake ends, it leaves the two of them steering at eachother for a time. Both seem lost in eachothers eyes. It’s almost as (y/n) can count the freckles on his face, and for yamaguchi, it’s almost like the attention of a girl is foreign to him.

“(y/n)! Are you coming?” Another girl’s voice called out to (y/n) breaking the silence between the two of them causing (y/n) to jump.

“O-Oh! Uh! I’m coming!” She replies as she bows to Yamaguchi as a sign of respect. “I-I have to go now. I’ll see you around!” with that, she's off in a flash.

Yamaguchi wonders if that just happened. He’s not dreaming, is he? Did he truly just talk to a girl who wasn’t looking for Tsuki, rather she wanted to get to know him? He smiles over this mini-victory as he finally gets a cute girl to talk to him. Maybe this was the boost to his self-confidence that was greatly needed.

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi x reader #tadashi yamaguchi #tadashi yamaguchi x reader #haikyuu x reader #fluff #haikyuu fluff

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damnedbeauty77 · 14 hours

Text

leon kennedy x fem!reader

!MDNI!

cw: smut, p in v, reader a little traumatised, vanilla and protected, swearing. idk how to do this

summary: reader meets leon, her possible future boss, in a bar with jill and chris.

notes: this is my first time writing smut, did proofread and edit before publishing, if u have any ideas for improvement just dm me x

words: 2.1k

i sit at the bar, leaning over to ask the bartender for a pink gin. what can i say, it looks pretty. my friend went home with some girl already, leaving me with myself at 10.30 at night.

it's fine. it's whatever. i could meet someone. i could have fun.

"hi there."

a guys takes the stool next to me.

i smile. he's cute. he has light, silver-y hair, parted to the side in a messy style. very much, my type.

"hi there." i respond lightly. i might be little drunk.

"i'm leon. what's your name?" he asks, putting an elbow on the bar to tap his fingers on his wood. i have to stop myself from giggling.

"y/n... are you going to buy me a drink?" i twirl my my hair lazily and leon almost copies my movements, brushing his hair back with his left hand. i wonder if he has a bald spot.

"of course. what are you having?"

"well, i'm actually looking to try something new. ive been drinking gin since i was 16. what would you recommend?"

"well, for a pretty girl like you, id have to say a cocktail. vodka, maybe... sex on the beach?"

...

"you work in the bsaa? i literally applied there yesterday!" i laugh. "yeah, well, kind of. i work with them in the dso."

my mouth drops a little in shock. "no way, you're leon kennedy? one of the—"

"founders, yes." leon sighs, laughing. "i really didn't expect all of this to come up when i decided to come talk to you."

i stop and blink a little. i forgot what he was really here for, at least for a moment. "well, shit. sorry. i mean like.. we can still go somewhere, if you want." his eyes widen a little. "no, no i'm sorry. i like talking to you. i was going to ask for your number- my friends are still here." he signals to a table in the corner of the bar. a man and a woman laugh together as they drink.

i smile. "oh, i've been keeping you from them."

"not at all, they told me to talk to you - encouraged me."

"well i hope you don't have a bet going, because i was starting to like you."

leon laughs. "really?"

"don't be smug. do you still want my number?" it feels so normal. "yes."

i wrote it out on a napkin and gave it to him.

"can i meet your friends? that guy is pretty hot." i tease him, making him bit his lower lip. a tinge of jealously emanates off of him. "i thought the girl would be more your type." he replies. i nod. "she is."

i follow leon to the table. he introduces me.

"this is y/n." he says to them. "hi. it's nice to meet you." i reply. "that's chris redfield, and that's jill valentine."

"hi." the girl says to me. oh my god, she is actually really gorgeous. "sit with us." she says, opening the seat next to her as leon takes a seat next to chris. i look at chris. he makes eye contact for a second, then looks away as he drinks his beer.

"i love your jacket." i tell jill. she's wearing black leather, i'm assuming faux based on her haircut.

"thank you, i got it from a thrift store, i think..." she replies. knew it. "i love your top. it's really sexy." she says. i look down. i'm wearing a black mesh top with a black bra underneath. "oh shit. i really forget whenever i wear this shirt.. then wonder why everyone is staring at my tits." i take a drink. i notice jill looking at my tits for a second before clearing her throat. "totally. i see the appeal." she says. then she puts a hand to her head in embarrassment. i laugh. "you're very brave."

"chris, y/n said she was applying to the bsaa." leon changes the subject, turning to me. "he works there right now."

i straighten up my posture, "oh well, i hope you forget everything i do tonight and put in a good word for me."

chris nods. "I'll ask about you." he replies. i feel a bit shouldered. is he emotionally unavailable? is that why i'm so attracted to him?

"what do you do, now?" jill asks me. "i was in the airforce, for just about 4 years." i say. "i've been kind of working a bunch of different jobs, i was in the nypd, until last month."

"airforce. you hear that chris?" jill laughs a little, looking at me. "i was in the airforce as well, when i was younger." chris elaborates. "what base were you?"

"active duty. but honestly, they kind of kept me behind the scenes. i can fly a jet, but i guess i'm just better on a computer."

"see, us girls gotta stay together." jill pushes my shoulder. jesus christ, how many drinks has she had?

"yeah, of course. girl." i smile. "what do you guys do?" leon spluffs. "oh, you know. just bsaa stuff. bioterrorism, security..." he trails off. "what are the two a's again?" he asks chris. he laughs a bit, letting out a little sigh.

...

by around 12am, i start to feel exhausted. we've been talking and drinking for hours, and i just want to... i don't know. go home? but i want to stay with them at the same time...

i check my watch. "it's getting pretty late. i think i might go home." i look at chris for a reaction. he does give me a look of respect, i know when to stop.

"no way, you've drank way too much. i'll call you a cab." leon protests.

"no, no, i only live like a mile from here."

"then i'll walk you home." he insists. i smile. "really? you'd do that?" jill and chris talk in the background. leon smiles in return. "yeah. of course."

i nod.

he walks me out the bar, at one point placing a hand on the small of my waist at one point, making me let go of consciousness.

"you know, i'm staying just down that way." he points with two fingers to a lane next to us. "if you want, you can stay at my place for the night."

my face totally flushes. "um, i wouldn't mind that." not the first time ive fucked someone i met the first night after meeting them. leon's nice though. i think he would call me.

"okay.. good." he says. he turns to me for moment, looking into my eyes. then, kisses me softly. i feel blood rush to my brain in satisfaction and arousal.

"thanks for coming to talk to me tonight. i probably would have left if you didn't." i tell him, putting my arms around his neck as he lets go of my ass... when did he managed to slip his hands there??

he leads me down the streets, his hand around my waist as he flirts shamelessly. then as he's about to open the door to go inside, he stops and looks at me.

"this isn't.. going too fast, or anything, right?"

"i'm fine with it as long as you are. we don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"no, no- i want to. i want to." he almost whines. his tone makes me smile. "good." i repeat him, kissing him again as he fumbles to get the door open.

he tastes like liquor.

i clear my throat, leaning into him. "can i go freshen up?"

he stammers a bit, face red. "yeah, the bathroom is down the hall to the left." he says. i nod, kissing him again before going. i wash under my eyes a bit for makeup, do my business, wash my hands again, then go back out.

leon is on the couch, tv on. he's put on closer. one of my favourites that i mentioned in the bar!

"oh my god, this movie is so sexy." i say, sitting down next to him. "well, i wanted to see what the fuss was about." he says, leaning back and taking a smoke.

"natalie portman, is the fuss." i say, placing my head next to his shoulder on the couch. "wow. you're right. they are all hot." leon laughs a bit, putting a rough hand on my thigh. he draws circles with his thumb over my skin. i look up at him, biting my lip.

i start unbuckling his jeans quickly, kissing him again, this time it looks sloppier, messier. "fuck, y/n." he groans as i palm him through his black calvin kleins. "these are hot.." i comment. "did you know you'd come home with someone to fuck tonight?" i ask innocently. he denies it. "wanted you as soon as i saw you."

i take off the mesh top jill complimented earlier. leon runs his hands all over my hips, waist and plays with the straps on my bra. i take off his shirt before he can do anything with my bra, then strip down my skirt as he pulls down his trousers. he lies sideways on the couch as i crawl over him, kissing his neck, trying to find the spot that makes him moan the most. "do you.. do you have a condom?" leon breathes out.

"yeah, hold on." i say, turning to the side of the couch with my bag leaning on it, opening it rapidly to take out the condom.

i rip it apart, seeing as he's already hard, i put it over his dick without even thinking. it's pretty big. like 7 inches at least. leon fingers me from underneath me, pushing my thong to the side. i moan and kiss his chest, licking a strip from above his dick to before the little line of blond hair at his bellybutton. he loves that, gripping my hair and pulling it up a little. "should i give you head or something, before?" he asks quietly. i shake my head. "i'll be fine. thank you, though." i smile through kisses down his chest, his fingers brushing over my clit. i line myself up as leon takes out his fingers, sinking down on him as i grab onto him shoulders. he sits up a bit, taking my waist with two hands to guide me back and forth on his dick. i roll my hips, kissing him roughly as i run my hands through his hair, combing it through my fingers. his neighbours had to have been hearing us.

leon rubs my clit with one finger as i start lifting myself up and down on him, legs wrapped around him at this point for the best angle. "please, please say my name." he asks quietly. i smile. "what? i can't hear you, baby." i tease him, kissing his ear. he leans his neck back, kissing my lips. "say my name, y/n." he asks again, a bit more commanding this time. and perfectly, he hits my g-spot with a thrust. "leon.. ughh, leon." i moan softly, and he replies by digging his nails into my back. "can i go on top.." he asks a little shy. i nod, letting him push me into my back, landing my head flawlessly onto a loose pillow. he pushes into me again, going significantly faster as he holds up the back of my knees beside his hips.

i see his eyes close for moment, and i feel his dick twitch a little in me. is he about to cum? i can barely read his face.

"fuck, you feel so fucking good." he says. i lean my head back a little, encouraging him to drive as far into me as possible. "oh my god, leon.." i groan, grabbing onto the sofa, scratching the fabric. i moan loud as i cum.

leon quickly follows with a low guttural groan to pair with his stalled thrusts.

i give him a kiss as he pulls out, almost immediately passing out on the couch. he throws the condom in a trash can, collapsing next to me, still naked.

"that was good. you're really good at that." leon says, wiping his forehead a little. i smile, thanking him. "it wasn't your first time, right?" i joke. he laughs, shrugging. "first time having sex with someone i met the same night. also, first time having sex pretty drunk." he confesses, making me laugh a bit. "my apologies if i have trouble remembering this. if i get the job, i mean."

"fuck, i totally forget that you might be working for me in a week... don't mention it to HR, right?" he slides on his boxers again. "so, you're my dirty secret now?" i ask. "if it helps to think of that way, then absolutely." he puts his shirt back on. "you want something else to wear? can't imagine that's comfortable." he points to my tight lace bra and panties.

"if you got a big shirt, i'll take it. want to finish the movie?"

"sure, but you'll have to catch me up." leon smiles coyly.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil fic #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy/reader #smut #first fic #one shot #resident evil smut #leon s kennedy #re4 leon

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