#my only conclusion from the past two weeks is

[hollytoshaw]

noisy neighbour part two | harry lewis

✩ ✩ ✩

summary: in which y/n owns a coffee shop and harry is her noisy neighbour

word count : 5.7k

part one here

a/n: this is part two of my noisy neighbour series!!! read part one before this <3 there will be more parts to this as its a proper slow burnerrr. sorry for the slow updates i haven't forgotten about this series lol xxx

masterlist <3333

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Y/N had come to the conclusion that life was much better when she didn’t let silly lies get in her way. It had been a week since she had come clean to her noisy neighbour, or Harry, as she now knew him, and life couldn’t get any better. 

After the pair had laughed about her moment of foolishness and how they were both a little too loud for their own good, they were able to move past it all and properly get to know the person they were living next door to. 

Y/N found out more about Harry’s whole ‘Youtuber’ lifestyle. He was part of a group of seven boys that made videos that came out every Sunday, but he also had other channels in which he’d play computer games and do funny reaction videos—the source of all that playful shouting she had heard through the walls. He told her that he’d gotten bored of his old apartment and wanted a change of scenery, so he chose the small-scale but nonetheless nice flat next door to hers. He lived alone and was 27; his favourite colour was blue, and his favourite cake was chocolate. He liked coffee,cycling, surfing, and the occasional beer, and he loved travelling anywhere in the world, near or far; he just loved exploring places. He had two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, and was from a little channel island named Guernsey. Y/N had never been.

She told him all the little details she could think of about herself in return. She was always sort of bad at introductions, cringing when they used to say ‘’Tell us three facts about you’’ in school, never knowing what to say. But she managed nonetheless. She told him all about her dream of having a cafe of her own and how she came to do so. She loved old music, mainly Abba, to which he laughed and told her he knew already, making a playful jab at the singing he had heard from next door. She too lived alone but was 26; her favourite colour was green, and her favourite cake was lemon. She also liked coffee, not so much cycling or surfing, and opted for cider whenever she went to the pub. While she hadn’t been travelling much herself due to paying off her university debts and then starting up her coffee shop, she still shared the desire to travel anywhere in the world—far away from London. 

It was such a breath of fresh air for Y/N. Owning a cafe all on her own meant early mornings and late nights, and her weekends were either spent visiting her parents or nestled away in her flat watching episodes of Vanderpump Rules or trying new recipes for baked goods that she was thinking about selling in the cafe. Because of this, she had found it hard to find time to make friends, and while she had her fair share, she barely saw them; they either had big city jobs or were living outside of London and starting a family. It just felt nice for Y/N to just sit and chat with someone a similar age to her and talk about nonsense for a while. 

While the conversation the pair shared was cut short by Harry needing to get to work and record a podcast, they shared numbers (only in case one of them got a parcel for the other, of course), and Harry said he’d pop back in soon to finish where they left off. 

So that was it. It had been a week, and she hadn’t seen him since, but that was all she could think about. It wasn’t even like Y/N had a crush, or so she convinced herself, but she longed to talk to him again; it just felt nice. While the occasional old lady that came into the cafe was great to chat with, asking away about how her day was going or what their plans were for the day, she still preferred the little chat she had with Harry; it just felt different, and she couldn’t put her finger on why. 

But then she got all in her own head. Maybe he didn’t come back in because he realised she was a bit weird, having lied about living next door and that he was only being friendly and entertaining the conversation, but in reality, he didn’t want to be talking to her at all. Y/N knew she was probably getting a bit ahead of herself, but she couldn’t help but think the worst. She had always been a bit of a pessimist. 

It was now Monday again, and the cafe had just begun to die down after the lunch rush. After cleaning tables and putting cups and saucers back in place, Y/N finally felt like she had it all under control. There was no one in the shop, and looking at the time, the clock read 1:00 p.m., a perfect chance for Y/N to have her lunch break. She had scoffed a croissant earlier that morning and topped herself up with flat whites throughout the day, but now she was starving. She walked over to the door, flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘close’ and walked back behind the counter to prepare herself something nice to eat. 

She wasn’t long into making a ham and cheese toastie when she heard three loud knocks on the glass door. Usually she’d shout ‘’We’re closed’’ and continue what she was doing, but another three knocks followed, and she thought she’d just let them in and eat her sandwich another time. 

As she turned around, she saw a hooded figure standing outside the door—it was lashing rain in London today (shocker) —but she could barely make their face out through the raindrops on the door. Nearing closer, she realised it was Harry. After a week, he’d returned. Maybe her pessimism wasn’t always right.  

Letting him in, she moved back as he took his coat off, the black puffer soaked from the awful weather. 

''Hello, you,’’ he smiled, lifting the hood of his jumper from his head. ‘’Didn’t realise you closed this early.’’

‘’Hiya,’’ she smiled back. ‘’Just closed for lunch, that’s all.’’

Furrowing his brows, he replied, ''U-Oh, right, I can come back later if you’re busy.’’

She laughed, taking his coat from him to hang it up on the coat stand next to the door. ‘’Don’t be silly. I’m only having a toastie, nothing special.’’

‘’Lovely stuff,’’ he said, clapping his hands together and following her towards the counter.

‘’How’ve you been?’’ she asked. ‘’Horrible weather today, isn’t it?’’ Classic brit filling empty silence with talks of the weather.

‘’I know, proper pain in the arse,’’ he laughed. ‘’Been good, though. Just back from a holiday with the boys, but so typical, I’ve come back to the shittest weather possible.’’

''Ooh, lucky you,’’ Y/N smiled as she resumed the making of her lunch. ‘’Go anywhere nice?’’

‘’Went to the Maldives for two days for a video,’’ he said nonchalantly, ‘’was a good laugh though.’’

‘’Wow, that must've been unreal.’’ she gasped, placing her sandwich on a small green plate before looking back at him. ‘’Can I get you anything to eat? I feel like a knob if I’m sat scoffing my face and I’ve not made you anything.’’

Harry smiled, watching as the girl moved her plaited hair so that it was out of her face. He thought she was quite pretty with her hair tied back, freckled cheeks, and a peach-coloured blusher on her face. She was wearing her same old green apron, but instead of the jumper she had on the last time he saw her, she had a striped long-sleeve top paired with black jeans. Yeah, she was really quite pretty, he thought. 

‘’No, I’m fine, thanks. I got a meal deal in the airport earlier,’’ he paused. ‘’And I’m trying to keep off the cakes, but they do look bloody brilliant today.’’

Y/N laughed, ''Well, you’re in the wrong place if you’re trying to keep off the sweet stuff. I got cakes coming out of my ears in this place.’’

The conversation felt easy for Y/N. It was almost weird to think about their first few conversations, stiff and awkward, thinking the other was a bit rude and not really interested in making small talk. But now, it felt like they could talk for ages; the initial uneasiness was now a distant memory. 

‘’So what brings you here?’’ she started. ‘’Surprised you’re not straight to bed after that long flight.’’

They sat down at a little table in front of the counter, Y/N enjoying her lunch and Harry watching, fumbling with his fingers. 

''Oh, trust me, I’m knackered.’’ he laughed. ‘’But I thought I’d pop in. Remember, I said I would last time, finish where we left off, and all.’’

Course Y/N was remembered. It had been all she thought about for the last seven days. 

‘’Oh right, yeah’’ she said between mouthfuls of her sandwich. ‘’Well,tell me all about this Maldives trip then.’’

✩ ✩ ✩

A few days had passed since Y/N and Harry’s last encounter. And that was all she could think about.

After leaving her cafe to go back to his flat, the pair shared a few jokey text messages: Harry sending her random pictures he’d taken on his holiday and Y/N sharing snaps of new baked goods that she’d made, with him responding with a classic ‘Save me one.’ It was nothing serious, but it was nice to have playful conversations away from her busy working day and Harry’s video shoots. 

Despite only a small proximity separating the pair, Y/N longed for the next time she might bump into him, almost hoping that a parcel would get delivered to the wrong address to give her some reason to knock on his door or that he’d finally succumb to his sweet tooth and trod down the stairs to try whatever fresh baked treats she had to offer. 

It made her laugh that only a few weeks ago she’d dreaded the thought of seeing him and hated the thought of having to make small talk with him, but now it was all she’d thought of. And don’t get her wrong, she was no romanticist or anything of that sort but when she found something she liked or in this case, a person she liked talking to, it was hard for her to take her mind away from them. 

Another day had come to an end for Y/N. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air as she wiped down the last table in her cosy little shop. It had been a long day for her, filled with the hustle and bustle of customers coming in and out. She felt swept off her feet trying to make sure everything ran smoothly and made a mental note that maybe it was time to hire some help.

Now, as the clock struck closing time, Y/N couldn’t wait to retreat to the comfort of her upstairs flat. Locking up the cafe, she made her way up the narrow staircase and into her home. The familiar creak of the stairs under her feet echoed in the empty hallway—a comforting sound that signalled the end of another day’s work. 

As she reached the door, she let out a contented sigh—peace at last. Turning the key in the lock, she pushed open the door and stepped into her sanctuary.

The soft glow of string lights greeted her, casting a warm and inviting atmosphere through the room. She’d forgotten to turn them off the night before and was surprised the batteries had lasted the day. Kicking off her shoes, she padded across the hardwood floor to her living area, where a plush green sofa beckoned her to sink into its comforting embrace.

Her days always went the same after work. She’d come upstairs, sit down on the sofa, and stick some random television show on for some background noise, needing to just sit for a moment after being on her feet all day. The stress of the day always melted away as she allowed herself to just be in the moment, relishing the peace and quiet of her own space. 

Next to the sofa, a stack of books awaited her attention. She had been reading some Dolly Alderton novel that a friend had recommended, and so far she was loving it. There was nothing quite like getting lost in the pages of a good book; all she needed now was a nice cup of tea, and she’d be in heaven. 

It’d felt like hours had passed as Y/N finally got to the end of another chapter. The gentle hum of the TV in the background continued as Y/N settled down the book and turned her attention to her phone, wondering if she had any new messages from a certain someone. And lo and behold, she did. 

Clicking the message open, she saw a picture that Harry had taken from what she assumed to be his living room. Her view was similar, just at a different angle—the Shoreditch’s streets looking equally as ‘London’-esque from both their windows. He had added a little message to the bottom of it: ‘This weather is mental. Think it calls for tea and some cake.’ Y/N hadn’t seen the message with her phone on ‘Do not disturb’ and her eyes well focused on the piece of fiction she was reading, and he had sent it over twenty minutes ago, but she assumed he was still next door, not wanting to dare step out in the treacherous rain. 

She wondered if he was hinting at her to send him a text and offer some cakes from downstairs. Or maybe even invite him over to try the pastries she’d sent him a picture of only a few days ago. Of course, Y/N didn’t really know if he was hinting at anything, but she really hoped he was. The time on her phone showed it was just past 7:00 p.m., and having eaten a small lunch earlier in the day, she too was in the mood for some cake and tea, not really bothered by the thought of cooking dinner and having to wash up loads of pots and pans in the kitchen.

She lifted herself up from the comfy sofa and into her kitchen space, opening the fridge to see if she had any nice delights to cure her craving. There sat a small blue tupperware, inside two vanilla cupcakes, left over from the day, perfect. Two. Perfect. 

Whether he had been hinting or not, Y/N took the tupperware in hand and stuffed her feet into her fluffy slippers. Unlocking her door and making her way down the stairs towards his door, she felt giddy. She thought it was a nice gesture to turn up with a little treat that he had longed for, and she hoped maybe the two could share a nice chat over a cup of tea as they looked out on the London rain. It’d be nice.

As she got to the door, she lifted her hand up, ready to press the buzzer to his blue door, but as she did, she heard the faint strains of music drifting through the air, accompanied by a girl’s laughter. Her hand froze, and a wave of disappointment washed over her. Doubt crept into Y/N’s mind, and she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt whatever moment Harry was sharing with another.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N turned on her heel and retreated back up the stairs to her flat. She knew she was being silly, but she felt a sting in her heart, and she couldn’t shake the image of Harry’s front door from her mind. 

Back in her kitchen. Y/N set the cupcakes on the counter; her appetite for something sweet was now long gone. She wondered if she had misinterpreted Harry’s kindness and their conversations as something more. Sure, the two had shared a few playful texts, updates throughout the day, and random pictures, but that was the extent of it so far. Y/N felt like an idiot. 

She never did respond to Harry’s text that night.

✩ ✩ ✩

Another few days passed, and Y/N had finally gotten over her little strop. Well…sort of. She didn’t have much to go on other than the fact that she’d heard a woman’s voice and lots of laughter, which she knew didn’t necessarily mean Harry had a girlfriend, but she'd rather nip her feelings in the bud than wonder about the what-ifs that could of been had he opened the door. Plus, Y/N felt a bit silly. He’d never given an indication that their chats were anything more than friendly, and the texts they shared weren’t suggestive in any way—I mean, you could probably send your mother the same things. So she knew it was better to cut her little strop short before she got herself all tangled up in her feelings.

She’d had another long week in the cafe, busy with big orders and endless amounts of coffee, and she knew it was definitely time she put out an advertisement for a job vacancy. But that was a job for another day as she was currently getting ready to go out with a few friends in a pub just near Old Street. It had been a while since she’d found the time to meet up with people (with their big city jobs and her never ending hustle in the cafe) and considering she’d given Harry radio silence for the past few days, this was the most socialising she’d done outside of the occasional old lady in the cafe. So, Y/N was buzzing. She reached for her favourite pair of Adidas Sambas, their sleek black design accentuating her style. The leather was very worn despite carrying many stories of past adventures. Y/N made a mental note that she’d get a new pair out of her next paycheck. Her outfit was bold yet chic, a lot different from her usual jeans, t-shirt, and green apron combo. A leopard print midi skirt is paired with a black fitted crop top and a leather jacket over her shoulders to give the outfit unmistakable flair. She always enjoyed dressing up, even if it was just for a quick pint—it just gave her something to do and was a nice change from her usual get-up. 

With a flick of her wrist, she grabbed her essentials—a phone, cardholder, and keys—and headed out the door. It wasn’t raining in London for once, with spring slowly creeping in, so Y/N didn’t bother with an umbrella, deciding her jacket was enough protection from whatever the weather had in mind. It felt nice as she walked along the busy Shoreditch streets with the city lights beckoning, couples holding hands, groups of friends laughing—it made her heart squeeze, and she felt like the night was promising her excitement and all sorts of possibilities.

/

The pub night was everything Y/N had hoped it would be. It had been a welcome contrast of warmth and laughter, and seeing her friends, who usually worked nine to five, was a breath of fresh air. With flushed cheeks from all the lively conversations and talks of fond memories, not to mention the five pints of fruity cider she had drank, Y/N left the pub with the cheesiest grin on her face. A few kisses to the cheek and warm hugs later, Y/N waved goodbye to her group of mates and headed back towards the Old Street roundabout. 

The city seemed quieter now; most of its energy was subdued despite it only being 10:00 p.m. Walking around familiar streets, she felt a sense of comfort in solitude but wished she hadn’t forgotten her airpods because there’d be nothing better than a peaceful stroll accompanied by her favourite indie music playlist in the back. 

The pub was only about a ten-minute walk from her flat, so it didn’t take too long, and Y/N felt herself subconsciously speed walking as the cold London air got to her, now regretting her choice of jacket. As she neared closer to her doorstep, she could see a hooded figure placed on it, a backpack in front of them, and a phone in their hand as they scrolled aimlessly. Her eyes felt a bit hazy from the cider, and she approached apprehensively, her mind wandering to the possibilities of it being a crazy ex-boyfriend or a drunken friend hoping to rest their heads for the night. But as she moved closer, her anxiousness eased. It was only her neighbour. Harry. Harry, who she’d given the cold shoulder to for the past few days.

His friendly face looked up at the sound of her approaching footsteps. A slightly flustered expression on his face. 

‘’Hi Harry,’’ she smiled. ‘’You alright?’’

Getting up from his crouched position, he moved aside, letting her stand in front of her own door. ''Oh, you life saver, been waiting ages.’’

She looked up at him, a glow on her face, not too sure if it was caused by the pints or his general presence. ‘’What for?’’

‘’I’ve been a right numpty and locked myself out.’’ he laughed. 

‘’Oh shit,’’ she laughed back, buzzing from alcohol. Y/N was a lightweight by definition; the smell of alcohol could probably get her drunk, and at this moment she felt buzzed.

‘’I know, pain the arse,’’ Harry said, pinching in between his eyes. ‘’Can’t even try to get a key cut because everywhere’s shut.’’

‘’You got any friends that’ll let you crash for the night?’’ Y/N asked, feeling genuine concern for the poor boy sitting outside their doors. She hadn’t even asked how long he’d been there—it could have been hours. 

‘’Tried a few but got no response,’’ Harry sighed, "I guess no one wants a rogue sleepover at 10 at night.’’

‘’Good friends you’ve got,’’ she teased, confidence of drink taking over her. 

‘’Oh shush you,’’ he playfully said back. 

A small silence fell over the toy as Y/N fumbled around in her bag to find her keys, the street light giving her enough of a torch to be able to find them. Every time she drank, she’d experience a small panic that she’d managed to lose all of her belongings, but luckily for her, everything seemed intact. 

‘’So what are you going to do?’’ Y/N said as she went to put her key in the lock.

Harry paused for a moment. While the two had shared the occasional message and nice chat over coffee, he felt a bit bold with what he was about to ask. Not being the most social person, he had weighed out the options of whether or not it would be awkward if she'd say yes to his question—he'd more than likely have to sit chatting for a while and then maybe have an uncomfortable sleep on whatever sofa or bed she’d have to offer—but at the same time, he reminded himself that it was only Y/N and whatever awkwardness could have come between them had well and truly been dissolved by their initial meeting. And truthfully, Harry was all for saying outlandish things and asking rogue questions, so if she did say no, he’d just take it on the chin and find somewhere else to go. 

‘’I hate to ask,’’ he paused sheepishly. ‘’I really do. But by any chance, I could come in for a bit, or at least till one of my friends picks up their phone and lets me stay around theirs.’’

‘’You hate to ask?’’ Y/N smirked, cocking her head to one side. ‘’Am I really that insufferable?’’

Harry’s eyes widened at her words. ''N-no, no, not at all. It’s just that I thought, ’’

‘’Stop your blubbering for a moment,’’ she laughed. ‘’It’s fine, really.’’

‘’You sure?’’ he smiled. ‘’Don’t have to say yes, 'coz you feel sorry for me.’’

And yes, Y/N did feel a bit sorry for the blubbering boy sitting in front of their adjacent doors. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than being locked out of her own flat and left out in the cold in London with nowhere else to go—it was a frustrating inconvenience to say the least. Plus, Y/N was always a bit of a generous soul, never really able to say no to people, always biting her tongue when she felt awkward, and with a few pints combined, she was feeling especially generous. 

‘’Honestly, no bother.’’ she replied, unlocking her door. ‘’I’ll probably be awake for the next few hours anyway, so companies are good.’’ An absolute lie on Y/N’s part. Any drink would usually send Y/N into a tired haze, and she couldn’t think of anything better than sticking on her pyjamas and curling up in bed, but it’d have to be put on hold for the night. 

Following her up the stairs and into her living area, Harry let his eyes analyse the room. Fairy lights adorned nearly every wall, blankets crowded on the sofa, a few plants dotted around the room, and an endless amount of cookbooks—while Harry didn’t know too much about Y/N, he could still recognise that her little flat was an exact replica of her as a person. 

‘’Nice place,’’ he said, placing his backpack down on the wooden floor. 

‘’Cheers,’’ she smiled, ‘’similar to yours?’’

‘’Similar size, but mines full of cardboard boxes at the moment,’’ he laughed, ‘’yours has a lot more life to it.’’

‘’Took a good few IKEA trips to get it this perfect, I won’t lie.’’ Since walking in, Y/N had dropped her bag by the door, walking into the kitchen space to find some snacks or atleast a drink to give to her unexpected guest. 

‘’You want a cider?’’ she asked, rummaging through the fridge to find a can of Strawberry Old Mout that she had left over from the last time she had a guest in her flat. She couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous as she looked around the brightly lit fridge - it felt weird having Harry in her flat. Different somehow, more intimate than their casual chats down in the cafe or over text. But especially after her little moment of weakness the other day and the fact that he more than likely had a girlfriend, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on being the good host she was. 

"You know what- I’ll take one," he replied,thinking nothing sounded better than a cold cider after his shambles of an evening. ‘’Only if you’re drinking too - don’t wanna start getting leathered on my own,’’

‘’As if you’d get leathered off of one cider,’’ Y/N laughed, passing him a can and cracking open her own, ‘’Plus I’m 5 ciders deep already so think it’ll be me getting leathered, not you.’’

Harry shared a laugh with her, holding his hands up in defeat, ‘’Alright, you piss head. You just been necking ciders on London streets then or what?’’

‘’Oh shut up,’’ if she had been closer to him, Y/N probably would of swatted him on the arm for the absolute nonsense that left his mouth but the kitchen counter separated the two, so she kept her arms to her side, ‘’I was just out in the pub.’’

‘’So that’s what the mysterious Y/N gets up to when she’s not running a cafe,’’ he said, raising his eyebrows as if he’d uncovered some maddening truth about her.

‘’Mysterious?’’ she snorted back regrettably but she couldn’t help it and plus after a few drinks, her snorted laugh always seemed to appear.

‘’Well ye-yeah, mysterious.’’ he paused, taking another big gulp of his drink and Y/N wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d managed to finish it by now. ‘’Haven’t heard from you in a few days and then you come swanning in after a few pints, I’d say that’s pretty mysterious.’’

‘’God, you talk some shit,’’ she said, laughing at his use of words. 

‘’S’true though, haven’t heard from you.’’ 

‘’I haven’t heard from you either?’’ 

‘’You liar! I texted you the other night and got no reply,’’ Harry said, clutching at his heart in a playful manner, ‘’really hurt my feelings.’’

‘’You’re such a windup,’’ she grinned, ‘’Didn’t take you as the type to be hung up over no replies,’’

‘’Broke my heart really. I was waiting for you to reply and say you had a cake and a chat waiting for me but got nothing.’

So maybe Y/N hadn’t taken his hints wrongly. 

‘’And then my sister turned up and I couldn’t even come round and pester you for a slice of lemon cake,’’ he continued, ‘’my plan went out the window,’’ His sister! Y/N mentally scolded herself in her head for being so silly that night and thinking the worst.

‘’Your plan?’’ she challenged.

‘’Yeah, my plan to butter you up and then steal every last slice of cake you had going for you.’’ he joked. 

What an idiot, Y/N thought. But a funny idiot, nonetheless. ‘Ah, well, you should have told me your sister was round and I would have been more than happy to share something with her - sure, she would have been better company than you anyways,’’ she joked, in return. She couldn’t tell if it was the ciders making her head feel dizzy or nonchalant playfulness, but she felt giddy and confident. 

‘’No one likes a liar, Y/N.’’ he beamed, ‘’We both know that’s a massive lie.’’

‘’Hmm maybe.’’ 

‘’So, pub, did you say?’’ he questioned, ‘’W-was it a date or?’’

‘’Think I go to the pub on a first date?’’ she said, raising her brow in amusement. 

‘’Nothing wrong with a pint and a bag of crisps for the first date.’’ he defended.

‘’It’s that where you take all your unlucky ladies then?’’

‘’Ha! Unlucky. It’d be the luckiest night of their lives,’’

‘’Oh I bet,’’ Y/N laughed, ‘’But no, just a few drinks with some of my friends. Nothing mad.’’

‘’Very cool.’’ Harry grinned. 

‘’Shut-up,’’ Y/N grinned back in return.

The two fell into a silence, each other not really knowing what to say. Y/N could feel the lull of the alcohol weaning off and she knew she’d be drifting off if she stayed up any longer. She didn’t want to come across rude, enjoying his company but her bed was calling her name and she needed to call it a night knowing she had to be up in  the morning to sort out admin for the cafe. 

‘’I think I might head to bed, I’m feeling knackered.’’ Y/N sighed.

‘’Leaving me all alone, one cider deep?’’ Harry laughed.

‘’Sorry but I don’t think I can keep my eyes open for any longer,’’ A giggle uttering from her lips, ‘’You’re more than welcome to stay on the sofa thought until you get your keys sorted and all.’’

‘’You’re a star, Y/N.’’ Harry smiled in return as he made his way to the couch to make himself comfortable for the night. He couldn’t have been more grateful for her in the moment, thinking back to not so long ago when he was out in the cold, locked outside of his flat. Course, they’d made familiar with each other the past few weeks but he couldn’t get over the kindness of the girl - or pity that she had for him - but either way he was thankful nonetheless. 

‘’There’s a few blankets on the side and some cushions so it shouldn’t be too uncomfortable,’’ Y/N paused, walking over the basket of random throws and cushions she had by the corner of her living room, signalling him to choose his pickings. ‘’Right, I’ll see you in the morning. Night Harry.’’

‘’Night, Y/N. Thanks again.’’ And that was the last thing he saw, her gleaming smile, cheeks red from alcohol as she walked down the hall to the last room that he knew now was her bedroom and headed to bed. 

/

Y/N woke up with a pounding headache the next morning followed by a dry mouth and a queasy stomach. She hadn’t even drank much but in her defense she rarely ever did so any alcoholic beverage would always send her sideways the next day. Blinking against the harsh sunlight streaming through her window, she groaned, regretting the cheap ciders of the previous night. Her memory was a bit hazy, blurred by the fog of alcohol but she did remember one thing. There was a Harry on her sofa. 

Dragging herself out of bed, she quickly sorted herself out, combing through her hair and fixing her pyjamas, not wanting to look an absolute state in front of the boy. She stumbled to the kitchen, head throbbing with every step, desperate for a glass of water. But as she walked into her living space, he was nowhere to be found. Surely she hadn’t been so drunk she had imagined the whole night. 

She could remember everything from the loud music of the pub, the dancing and laughs she shared with her friends. And she most definitely remembered the blue eyed boy that was sat outside her front door, locked out from his home.  

She did a quick check of her phone to see if she had any texts from Harry but the only notifications were a few Instagram tags from her mates and a text from her mum asking what she thought of the banana loaf she had made. Nothing from Harry. 

Walking around the kitchen to grab a glass for her water, she noticed out of the corner of her eye the little notepad she had on her kitchen counter was opened, a few words scribbled on it and a black biro pen next to it. 

On the note read ‘Thank you for letting me stay last night, you’re an angel. I had to leave early this morning to meet the landlord for a spare key but I really do owe you. Let me know when you’re free, I’m thinking of dinner on me? Thank you again, Harry x’ 

With a little smile on her lips as he fingers traced over his messy handwriting, she felt a sigh of relief. Dinner on him, it was and she couldn’t wait.

-

a/n: thank you for reading. sorry for the wait!!! there defo won't be a long wait for part three. this is such a slow burn but promise it gets more cutesy in part three <333

#w2s #wroetoshaw #w2s x reader #harry wroetoshaw #harry lewis #harry w2s #sidemen #w2s fic #w2s imagine #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw oneshot #hollytoshaw #chris md #arthurtv #sidemen x reader

[zephyrine-gale]

hello! i got an email saying my charms would ship on the 29th but it still says that it's pre-shipment and has been waiting for the item since then. is this normal?

Hello! I printed all of the shipping labels on the same day to pack them in batches, but there were some delays with items that were supposed to arrive on the 1st, so I had to put packing and shipping on hold until they arrived last weekend~this monday :'> I sent out all of the remaining orders out today, so your tracking number should update in a day or so! Thank you for your patience!

#shop bloops #I hope everything arrives safe and sound for you all!! #my only conclusion from the past two weeks is #fedex sucks ass and the local post office gives me a headache ajfkghj #i will do my best to have everything ready before printing the labels out next time tho #i just thought the stickers and stuff would arrive at their ETA and then they didn't come until like a week after... #so I do apologize for the long wait #i get antsy when the tracking doesn't seem to work too :'>

[kasagia]

Right hand II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After you miraculously escaped from his arms the other night, you tried to stay away from him as best as you could. You have to put a lot of effort into escaping from the na-baron, who is tirelessly and constantly chasing you, or into avoiding another invitation to his chambers late at night. However, on Arrakis, the situation between you changes drastically... And you're losing control over your life, and it's not because of Feyd. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

You are standing in front of the window of the ship that is taking you to Arrakis. You nervously play with the edge of the shawl that covers your head. You don't have good memories of that planet. Before you escaped with Feyd, the Bene Gesserit sent several of their young apprentices to… train in the sands of Dune. Including you.

You still remember the screams of some of your companions who went crazy from a lack of water and decided to end their lives. And sometimes at night you dream that the sandworm swallows half of your group, leaving you practically on your own.

Arrakis didn't just kill your friends. It killed any belief in the Bene Gesserit in you, only confirming that you would rather die than be completely subject to them.

And now you're going back there with someone who had full control over your life again. It's funny how history likes to come full circle. And how, despite their repetition, people still fall for tricks and fall into fate's traps, acting in exactly the same way.

A cold hand on your bare shoulder snaps you out of your stupor. You act fully automatically,drawing the dagger attached to your belt and twisting the attacker's arm. You pin him to the wall, placing the blade against his pale neck. You freeze as your eyes meet Feyd's icy blue gaze.

"Good reflex. If you were anyone else, I'd kill you for this, but I'm in a particularly good mood today, so I won't punish you as I would like. What were you thinking about, my little witch, that you didn't hear me sneaking up on you? Or maybe I have finally surpassed the master?" He asks with a mocking smirk, showing off his black teeth. You snort, shaking your head at him.

"Keep dreaming." You say, taking advantage of his amusement. This time, you are not keeping your mouth shut for fear that he will deprive you of your tongue for your boldness towards him. You move away from him, which he takes with clear displeasure, and return to your place by the window.

"If I dream about you, I prefer to dream about something much more pleasant." He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He slides your shawl off your head with his teeth and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You feel him sigh deeply, leaning against you a little as he relaxes into your scent and closeness. You frown, but let him hold you because you feel calmer having him close to you. Despite everything that had happened in the past two weeks, you still found his presence reassuring. It didn't make any sense to you, but apparently, over the years, you had begun to involuntarily associate him with something akin to a safe shelter. Herkonnen. A psychopathic, bloodthirsty future baron. How ironic…

However, being in his arms helped you come to the conclusion that the demons of the past should remain in the past. And you should focus on the newest one that is now wrapped around you.

You stare at your reflection in the glass, shuddering as his scent surrounds you, mixed with the blood that stains his uniform. You wonder which soldier you will have to find a replacement for this time.

"What were you thinking about?" He whispers that he doesn't loosen his grip on you even for a moment, knowing full well that the moment he does, you'll wriggle out of his arms and find another excuse to leave him.

You checked the condition of engines and fuel 8 times. He started counting after the ship's captain complained to him about your constant presence. He beheaded him without giving him the opportunity to complete his complaint against you. Feyd smiles, remembering the irritated frown on your forehead when you had to clean up his mess. Of course he followed you then. Of course, 'just to make sure that the next captain you appoint will be more competent'.

"It doesn't matter." You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. He would enjoy your submission and willing closeness if he didn't see that, by doing so, you only wanted to distract him from the main topic. Clever little witch you were…

"It must be important if you stopped paying attention to your surroundings. You are always alert and aware of the things that happen around you. No matter what. I remember how, during one of our escapades, you were the only one who didn't fall into the trap."

"Well, that one was actually obvious." You say it with a mocking smile, remembering how you had to save him and his soldiers.

For the rest of your life, you will never forget how you had to dig Baron Feyd-Rauth Harkonnen out of the mud and save his ass from the Assassins who planned his execution. Of course, he killed any witnesses, leaving only you and him alive. After all, his uncle and brother couldn't find out about it.

He growls in your ear, tightening his grip on you as a warning, when you make him replay that day in his head.

"Don't brag now. I was… busy observing something much more interesting than muddy swamps." He grumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The warm air he exhales makes you shiver.

"Which was?" You ask shakily, placing your hands over his to stop him from roaming them over your body.

"You." His answer is short and simple, as if it were the most obvious thing you should know. He doesn't hide it anymore; he doesn't keep his desire to himself. He wants you. He craves you. He shows it to you so clearly and thoroughly that you laugh at how naive you were to believe that you had only a friendly, platonic relationship. But how could you not believe that he only saw you as a means to an end when he treated everyone else around him like that? Since he treats people like things to play with and break whenever he wants? How could you have predicted that you would become his obsession, a precious jewel in his collection that he would want to protect and have just for himself? "I'm asking for the last time. What were you thinking about, little witch?" He asks, wrapping his hand around your neck and forcing you to look into his eyes.

You have no escape from him now. And you certainly won't tell him that lately you've been thinking more and more often about how to run away from him, or what would happen if you stayed with the Bene Gesserit, or how your life would have looked if you escaped from them on your own. You wonder if it wouldn't have been better to bury yourself in the sands of Arrakis all those years ago with your friends and die there. You are sure that it would be a much more dignified death.

"I... I thought about Arrakis." You decide to respond safely and carefully, so as not to reveal too much to him. You didn't want him to become suspicious of you. Not when you had to handle him carefully, lest you fulfil any of the Bene Gesserit's sick plans and visions.

"So what about this? Are you scared?"

"No. I am not. I'm never afraid. Fear is the mindkiller. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration." You repeat the mantra automatically without thinking much about it.

You flinch as you realise that you are answering quickly with the Bene Gesserit litany of fear, which they've made you learn by heart. A great deal of anger grows within you as you realise how much they have influenced your life, even so many years after you ran away from them.

"You're quite tense. More than when I usually hold you." He points this out, starting to gently stroke your back in an attempt to relax you. You give him an angry look instead, suddenly understanding why he was irritated with you for reading him and his emotions perfectly when he was the one who was flustered and furious.

It was always easier for you than for him to hit sensitive places or to read the other one like an open book. Apparently, you're not the only one who's learned this over the years. He knew you as well as the back of his hand. He just never showed any trace of concern for your well-being.

You had your… tender moments when you allowed yourselves to be vulnerable with each other once or twice, but you both treated them more as minor lapses in maintaining your impenetrable façade of indifference and neutrality. In the end, everyone is on their own. And looking for a friend in him was a completely stupid thing—an act of true naivety and a sign of self-destruction, maybe even masochism.

"Maybe you shouldn't hold me at all, then?" You growl at him furiously, unable to control yourself. He just frowns, more surprised by your behaviour than offended by this blatant act of disrespect. He had rarely seen you so nervous or furious.

Of the two of you, you were the one who was the most calm and composed. You were always able to hide all your emotions behind a mask of indifference. He's fascinated by how you really behave when you don't have a filter on. He often throws you off your balance only to see your cheeks flush with anger; you take out your anger in a fight (just like him); or you bite your lip to avoid saying something back to his taunts.

"Or maybe you should drop your attitude and just let me do it?" He asks, his lips brushing against your earlobe. He doesn't wait for your response; he simply catches the tip of your ear between his teeth. He bites in gently, sucking and caressing your skin with his lips, as if your ear's superior helix were the sweetest delicacy he could enjoy.

"I'm not fighting or trying to escape, am I?" You respond, enduring his treatment with dignity. At the ship's window, you can see a small smile appear on his lips at your words.

He decides to pull away from you, but he is not giving you even the smallest chance to run away from him. He presses you against the cold glass, entering your personal space even more than when he had you close against his chest. You lift your chin, looking at him defiantly as he puts his hands on your hips.

"You are not. But you also don't want to be here in my arms." He replies, cupping your chin with two fingers. He leans closer, making you feel the metallic scent of blood that still lingers on him, probably from his fight with some prisoners on the ship. "And I don't like it at all." He whispers hoarsely into your ear.

"Since when do you care what others want? I don't remember you spoiling your concubines like that." You snap, causing him to laugh mockingly and shaking his head in amusement.

He leans in, making you tense up slightly. You think he's doing it to kiss you, but instead of feeling his lips on yours, you feel his cheek brush against yours, and his lips blow hot air into your ear again as he whispers softly:

"Because they weren't you, Y/N." You shiver at the sound of his dark, hoarse whisper in your ear. You can't say you don't feel the effects of his... seduction. But you promised yourself long ago that you wouldn't be any man's whore, concubine, plaything, or broodmare. And certainly not HIS. No matter how... tempting he could be.

"And what is so special about me? Hm? My body? My appearance? That I can fight well? You would get bored of me. Like you did with all your concubines."

"Did they understand me like you do? Have you ever seen them look at me as anything other than a wild, bloodless beast in the heat?" He answers your angry questions with his, dismissing your attempt to start a verbal fight with him.

His thumb traces the line of your jaw, examining you closely. Looking into his light blue eyes makes you feel uncomfortable. He shouldn't have reacted to you like that. You weren't used to anything he had been doing these past few weeks. You preferred to fight him than... when he showed you so much tenderness, appreciation, and affection.

"Have I ever looked at you differently?" You ask defiantly. He smiles, licking his plump lips. You give in to this provocation, and, without controlling it at all, you move your gaze to his lips. His dark chuckle makes you look back into his eyes.

"Yes. Yes, you did that... you don't even know how often." He hums, his fingertips moving towards your mouth. He caresses your lips with incredible tenderness and delicacy. He presses on them gently, but you squeeze them as tight as you can, preventing him from doing anything he planned.

You react faster than him. You bite his wandering fingers, take advantage of the fact that he is still trying to process what has just happened, and quickly pull away from him. He laughs, shaking his head, looking at you intently as he deliberately crosses the distance between you two. He doesn't have to say anything for you to see how clearly he's mocking you and daring you to continue to defy him.

"We're not even on Arrakis yet, and you're already delusional, my na-Baron? Or maybe the black sun of Giedi Prime made you start seeing a mirage?"

"If you are a mirage or an illusion, then I never want to be sane again, my little witch." You gasp, as he wraps his arms around you tightly, clinging to you completely. He leans in, his nose tracing a line along your temple, inhaling your scent before burying his face in your hair.

He keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. You place your hands on his, trying to loosen his tight grasp somehow, but it only makes him hold you tighter. He tilts his head slightly and brushes his nose against yours.

You shiver, feeling how close he is and how his musky smell, mixed with a hint of metallic blood, surrounds you. He presses himself against you so tightly that there's practically no space left between your bodies. You close your eyes, letting out a small, shaky breath. And just as he's about to press his lips against yours, the metal door to the room slides open with a loud bang.

You jump away from him, grunting as a young recruit enters your field of vision.

“My lord na-Baron. Lady Y/N. We will land in fifteen minutes."

"We would rather notice it ourselves." Feyd growls at him. You see him reach for the hidden dagger. You walk over to him, resting your chest against his back, and grab his hand before he places it on his dagger and throws it at the poor man.

"Thank you, Oliver." You say with a smile. The man swallows in fear at Feyd's furious glare. He bows and leaves the two of you alone.

You step away from Feyd, letting go of his hand. You frown, seeing that he's even more furious than when one of the soldiers entered. You raise your eyebrow questioningly, not understanding why he's practically huffing in anger now.

"What?" You finally ask him, not understanding the reason behind his behaviour.

"Oliver... do you call all of them by their names?" He asks, spitting out the soldier's name in disgust. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you reach for the shawl he had thrown off you and put it back on your head.

"If I know them, then yes, why?"

"You've never called me anything other than my lord and na-baron." He speaks in an almost accusatory tone. It takes a lot of strength in you not to burst out laughing when you realize he's completely serious and not joking right now. You try to come up with some excuse, wondering how to safely answer his question.

"And you always call me your little witch." You answer. Using his name somehow never felt right to you. At first, out of respect for him, maybe even fear. After all, he saved you from the clutches of the Bene Gesserit. Calling him by his name was out of the question. With time, you did it out of habit. And now… now you didn't want to call him by anything else because you knew that it would be a small step on his way to make you his.

"So this is supposed to be our thing?" He asks with a challenging, teasing smile.

"We don't have a thing." You huff, walking towards the exit. He, of course, follows you faithfully. You can feel the excitement radiating from him. He was definitely planning something big to do on Arrakis. Something he didn't tell you. You just hoped that he would be too busy with his brother and securing the spice mine to take care of you at the same time.

"Don't we?"

"You should focus on what you tell your brother. You're finally taking the reins. Rabban won't give them to you that easily. And we need to establish a final plan of action on Arrakis." You say, returning to your matter-of-fact, cool tone. He smiles, nodding.

"Don't worry about that… I'll make him kiss our shoes." You snort, shaking your head in amusement at his words. It might be true, but it's still hard for you to imagine him actually putting this plan into action. As you'll see in a few minutes, he actually intended to do that. "And the plan was decided a long time ago. I told you I wouldn't let us split up. And not because I question your leadership skills or loyalty. You are the only competent and worthy person to lead half of my army. But we, little witch, work together. Always. You don't change something that works perfectly. Get ready. We're landing soon." He leaves you with a quick kiss on your temple.

He walks away from you with a sly smirk, as if he's managed to trick you. You sigh as you watch him walk out of sight, walking with a spring in his step towards his room, probably to grab his things and get his harpies ready to leave.

You look out the ship's window at Arrakis for the last time. You close your eyes, promising yourself that since the Bene Gesserit, Feyd Rautha, Giedi Prime, or the Harkonens hadn't killed you, this damn planet wouldn't do this either. You weren't the same Y/N from 10 years ago. You were more powerful. Your bones won't sink into the sands of this damn dune... you'd even rather become the mother of that Kwisatz Haderach.

You practically jump out of bed with your heart beating fast as you wake up from another nightmare. You sigh shakily, pressing your hand to your mouth, trying to calm your breathing as best as you can as your heart pounds frantically against your chest.

The screams of your companions echo in your ears, and the images of the Fremen pumping the water out of them replay in your head. And that damned sandworm...

“Y/N, look at me.” His cool hands on your bare shoulders and his raspy, commanding tone bring you back to reality.

As soon as you look into Feyd Rautha's blue irises, you stop trembling. You snap out of this strange trance, trying your best to forget about the returning memories that haunted you more often during this week of your stay on Caladan. You suspect that this may have resulted in a rather close relationship with Lady Jessica. You breathe slowly, focusing on his pale skin that looks like snow, illuminated by the moonlight that streams through the window of one of the Caladan's inns.

“Breathe in and out.” He gives you another order. You nod, imitating the pace of his slow breathing as you slowly begin to calm down. "I will kill that witch as soon as I get my hands on her." He growls, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead with his hand. You see immense anger in his eyes and the seeds of a plan forming in his head as he thinks of many ways to make that Bene Gesserit pay for your nightmares.

"You can't. She's the prince's mother. Besides, it's not her fault that she recognised me from somewhere. I could have been more careful."

"You covered your face with a mask for an entire week, all the time, even to sleep. What can you call that other than being careful? Besides, the baron knew that these negotiations were doomed to failure anyway. It's not like her suspicions ruined them. I would have decided to leave this damned palace even without it." He assures you, slowly lowering the two of you back onto the mattress. He wraps one arm around you, his tight embrace grounding you in the moment and helping your mind focus entirely on the present rather than the dark memories from your past.

"The Baron will be furious with you. It's all my fault. You should have killed me." You say, focusing your gaze on his daggers, which are strapped to his hip. Feyd follows your gaze and snorts. He grabs your neck, forcing you to lift your head and look into his eyes again.

"And get rid of the only competent right hand I've had in years? I'd rather suffer his punishment for this... small act of disrespect towards the Atreides. And who knows? Maybe he'll even like it? Harkonnen chooses inns over Atreides' palaces. I can always say that I saw rats running freely around my chamber and decided that such conditions are not worthy of a na-Baron and they are an insult to my person that I could not allow them to do." You roll your eyes at him, but you can't help but smirk at him.

Feyd finds himself smiling slightly at the sparkle of amusement in your eyes. He decided he preferred seeing them in your eyes rather than the emptiness and terror that didn't even let you breathe normally. He reveled in the fear of others. But yours brought him more pain than joy. Unpleasant pain.

It was starting to worry him. And maybe he would think about it more if you weren't lying so close to him now, practically in his arms. At his fingertips if he wanted to play with you. But, surprisingly, he didn't. And even if so, he wanted it only if you were as desperate for his touch as he was for yours.

"There are also rats on Giedi Prime. And you have to share a room with me because there's not enough space here for all of us. I'm sure your harpies are furious. You'd probably rather do something else with them, too, than hold me through my nightmares like some scared little child." You tease him, snapping him from his thoughts. He looks at you carefully, admiring the way the beads of sweat on your forehead glisten in the moonlight.

He feels a strange, new desire to make them be caused by him... or rather, by the activity he would subject you to. His gaze returns to your eyes and your lips, and he feels himself harden slightly as his thoughts turn to fantasies about you—something he's been doing a lot more of lately. One of his harpies mentioned something about him moaning your name...

"Maybe you actually deserve this punishment? Such sharp language…" He whispers huskily, tracing the line of your jaw with the pad of his thumb. He watches you carefully, and, as usual, he sees no fear in your eyes. Even when his fingers travel to your neck and then to the fabric of your nightgown, imagine how close he is to touching what you hide from him and everyone else behind your outfits designed to fit you into staying in the shadows and fighting. If he could, he would dress you in the most beautiful silks and jewellery so that he could feast his eyes on the only beautiful view of Giedi Prime. You see a crease form on his forehead as he becomes aware of this strange desire. He removes his hand before he goes too far to come back, and he clears his throat as he focuses his gaze on your eyes again. "What was that? That dream?"

"I... I don't want to talk about it." Feyd feels how you tense up just thinking about your nightmare. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't care. He wouldn't spare a thought or, if he was curious enough, force them to talk. But with you... he just nods and gives you space, turning to lay on his side of the bed.

"Feyd..." His heart beats faster after you use his name for the first time. He turns to your side of the bed so he can fully look at you. He hums, pretending that you're not giving him a heart attack and that he's not replaying the soft, gentle tone with which you said his name in his head. And he wants to hear it again. In many ways. A quiet whisper, a cry, a scream of pleasure as he makes you come... "I... can you..."'

He doesn't wait for you to ask him. And he could. He could make you beg for him to bring you the comfort you need or mock you for being so defenceless and scared, but how can he make you do that when you look at him with those doe eyes? How can he do anything other than pull you into his chest, place his hand on your head, and play with your hair, guiding your face into the crook of his neck as you look at him like no one has ever done before? 

He wasn't the type of man you turned to for comfort or solace, and yet here you were, lying next to him, just wanting to feel his safe embrace around you again. He smiles when he feels your breathing and pulse slow as you fall asleep against him, allowing him to be with you in your unconscious state. He could do many things to you. He could slit your throat, stab you in the heart, scalp you of all your beautiful hair, and touch and taste any part of you he wanted. Satisfy himself with you and give yourself to his concubines when he ends using you.

But all he can do, as you sleep so peacefully on his chest, is pull the covers tighter around you and place a gentle kiss on your head. He doesn't remember the last time he felt such peace or the last time he felt wanted—not because of his status or the benefits he could bring to someone, but simply because someone wanted to be close to HIM.

"After all… I guess Caladan isn't that bad, my little witch." He whispers, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

Feyd liked to think that the moment you first said his name and clung to him after the nightmare for comfort and security (IN HIM) was the moment he fell for you. But the truth was that it was a day later, after his uncle had punished him, inflicting various wounds with a blade on him, that you returned to the Giedi Prime without the expected agreement with Atreides. And, of course, he didn't rat you out. He took the blame. After all, it was his fault. He put your well-being above anything else and ordered to leave Caladan when Lady Jessica became too attentive to you. And he would do it again. He couldn't lose his right hand.

You felt guilty and took care of him. And those few days when you played the role of his nurse were the best ones in his life.

Feyd learned to love pain. Numerous punishments made it impossible for him not to do that. But he loved your gentle touch even more, esepcially when you tried your best to heal him. And he could get a thousand cuts or even more if it was the price of feeling your tender, caring touch on his skin once again.

And lying there with a torn back, looking at your sleeping form next to his bed, ready to meet his every little wish; he promised himself that he would do it. He will feel your hands on his body again. In better, less bloody circumstances. And definitely not with worry staining your beautiful eyes. But desire. Passion. Affection. Maybe even love.

"Uncomfortable, my lord?" You mock him with a little smirk as you both lie on the sand, observing the surroundings.

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You huff, shaking your head at his words. You know it's the last thing he'll actually do at this point. You use your binoculars to zoom in on a specific sand dune, in the middle of which there should be a Fremen base.

"Someone woke up with his left foot. I thought you'd be more enthusiastic about the upcoming fight." You say, trying to spot any movement, silhouette, or anything that indicates that your informant was right, and this is the place where one of the more important sietches are.

"I am. But it's damn hot here. Besides, sand gets in where it shouldn't." You smile, barely holding back your laughter, as Feyd allows himself to grumble next to you. You squeal in shock as he spanks you. You look away from the dune and give him an offended, shocked look when he chuckles hoarsely at your reaction.

"You're lucky that it's just a desert and that you're not dressed all in black like our soldiers. If this shipment of new equipment, weapons, and uniforms does not arrive this week, I will return to Giedi Prime and slaughter these useless scientists and engineers. Besides, your harpies will probably be more than happy to help you get rid of every little grain of sand from your body."

"Jealous?" He asks as you go back to watching the dunes.

"I wouldn't willingly be around these cannibals even if you paid me." You say, ignoring the fact that he was clearly asking if you were jealous of HIM, not the fact that he has his concubines and you don't. You shiver, feeling his piercing, burning gaze on you.

You're a little annoyed that he's doing practically nothing. Apparently, he too must have felt the effects of spending many weeks in that damn desert, and he had enough. Just like all of you.

"Arrakis brings out your more feisty side… I like it." He takes the binoculars from you and looks in a completely different direction. You snort, trying to see what caught his eye. You frown as you see a sandworm scurrying in the distance. But it wasn't under the sand... "Tell squad six to kill it. Those rats must be moving around again."

"Will you waste the bomb on a sandworm?"

"Only the most important Fremen travel like this. Whoever's on the back of this is not just anyone." You nod. You turn on the communicator and share information with the group, giving them the orders. You feel Feyd's eyes focused on you all the time. You roll your eyes and shift your gaze to his as he continues to stare at you curiously.

"What?"

"You've been here before, right? You may not know the ways of the Fremen, but I can see in your eyes that this planet is no stranger to you."

"The Bene Gesserit prepared us for every circumstance." You answered him deceptively. However, this does not quench his curiosity. And you know that since you're doomed to wait here for a good hour before anything happens, you're doomed to keep him entertained.

"Did they send you to Giedi Prime too?"

"No. But I was often send to Caladan." You say, not realizing how bad a move it was. The wrinkle on his forehead and the gentle tightening of his hand on his blades prove to you what an idiot you are. But you can't keep an eye on the dunes and anticipate his mood swings at the same time. Which he's had quite a lot of since you came to Arrakis. He didn't show it to anyone else, but you could see that the heat was bothering him just as much as it was for all of you.

"Why? Breeding program? Don't tell me you were supposed to be Atreides' pet." He spit out from his mouth the names of the people who were his family's greatest nemeses, as if it were some kind of dead poison. Even though the Atreides were long dead, buried in the sands of Arrakis, he still talked about them with huge hostility.

No. I was supposed to be your pet.

"I don't know." You slide off the sand to get out of sight of your possible opponents. There's no point in observing the area now. You know that your best men and their troops are positioned around you, so you could have left them to make the first attack. For now, you had to defuse a bomb that was about to explode next to you.

"You don't talk about it often. About the Bene Gesserit." He pursues the topic further, following in your footsteps. You both are standing on a small ledge, with your backs pressed against a sandstone. You don't have much space, so you have to rest your arm on his so as not to fall down and crash into the rocks below you.

"I don't want to remember it. I have another life now. Better one." You say, fiddling with your communicator. You issue a surveillance order to the rest of your units and turn it off, waiting for them to notice something. You take the shawl off your head and wipe your sweaty forehead with it.

"I won't let them hurt you again. Or anyone else." You freeze for a moment at his words. All you can do is stare at him in shock as he reaches for your face and grabs your hair. He ties them awkwardly, making sure they don't get in your face. It's a sweet gesture... even too sweet for him. And you wonder how the hell he knows how to tie someone's hair back.

You are about to tie your shawl around your forehead again when Feyd suddenly takes it from you. He wipes the back of your neck and makes sure there isn't a single bead of sweat on your face before he ties your shawl around his wrist.

"Who said they hurt me?" You ask, swallowing. You try to hide the tremble in your voice, but you suddenly become very aware of how close you are to each other. And that you two are completely alone...

"Your eyes and actions tell me more than you can let through your mouth, little witch."

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You respond with what he told you earlier without thinking much about it.

You gasp in shock as he presses you against the sandstone behind you, guiding the two of you deeper. His dilated pupils, slightly clenched jaw, and rapid breathing confirm how fucked up you are. You've lost your damn guard. Again. And now he will use it to his advantage.

"Oh, my darling little witch… you don't know how much I want you to do this…" He growls in your ear. His nose traces a path from your hair to your neck, inhaling your scent. You shiver as his lips brush against your neck.

"What are you doing?" You moan as he sucks your neck and bites it lightly, leaving a hickey there. He moves his head away from you and looks at the trail he created. He hums lightly, planning where to leave the next one. And another one. And another. And another...

"Shhh... We have a few minutes before they stop bombarding them. Another few before the dust settles and before we enter those rats' canals... let me make sure that my right hand is properly relaxed in the meantime."

As usual, he doesn't give you time to respond. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. His chapped lips brush against yours, gently urging you to open your mouth for him. You try to tighten them as best you can, but he somehow manages to bite your lip, which makes him immediately clear the way for his tongue.

You gasp as his hands cup your ass. His fingers dig into your flesh, and you know that if it weren't for the thick tactical suit, it would have left bruises in the shape of his fingers. He picks you up without breaking the kiss and presses you against the stone-sand wall of the small cave.

You moan as his bulge rubs against your clothed core. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding yourself up as he peppers your neck with hickeys, grinding against you.

On Giedi Prime, you would struggle with him, trying to break free from his grip. But here, while you've been busy planning, tracking, fighting, and increasing your spice production for the last few weeks, you haven't had any opportunity... to take care of yourself. He wasn't helping either, following you around and acting like a fucking guard dog. And from what you heard from your room next to his in the night, he wasn't denying himself anything. Damn bastard.

What you didn't know was that he was fucking his fist thinking about you all this time because, since the two of you shared a bath, none of his concubines have been able to please him. So he's just as desperate as you are.

You moan as he thrusts into you, especially hard. He also purrs against your neck at the sounds you make. You're well aware that if it didn't take you forever to put your clothes back on, he'd already have you naked beneath him, fucking you wildly and giving you orgasm after orgasm... and you almost want to let him. If only those fucking witches weren't planning on breeding you with him, you would have been riding him wild a long time ago.

At one point, he bites into your neck, making you scream uncontrollably. You blush furiously when he pulls away from your neck with your blood on his full lips and gives you a hungry, lustful look.

"Take off your pants." He orders you. He licks the blood from his lips and leans down to lick the rest from your neck, leaving a few more hickeys on it.

"We… can't… we... battle..." He suddenly stops making any movements, but instead of moving away from you, as you think he will, he grabs you tightly by the throat. He squeezes lightly and leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He breathes deeply and heavily, nuzzling his nose against yours before opening his eyes to fix his wide pupils on yours.

"Are you defying me?" You shake your head, always being a good soldier. "Good girl. Pants down, or I'll rip them off, and you'll have to walk back to the base without them."

This is a very real threat. And even though you know he would rather kill any man who dares to look at you in this state than expose you to the… lust of the hundreds of men who were on the base, you have no desire to parade around Arrakis with your bare ass. You start to take off your pants, slowly unbuttoning them. He won't even let you take them off of you all the way. As soon as he sees your exposed pussy, he drops to his knees in front of you, holding your hips in a tight grip.

"She blocks me so much when she has a damn spring between her legs… a real desert oasis…" He mumbles, his fingers collecting your wetness. You gasp as he looks you straight in the eye, sucking your juices from his finger. You lick your lips unconsciously, your brain completely stunned by the suddenness of the situation, the lust overwhelming you, the sight of him on his knees for you, as well as the spice in the air.

You don't even protest when he licks the stripe of your pussy and tightens his grip on your hips, pressing his face against your crotch. As he begins to lick and suck on your more sensitive parts, you scratch his scalp with your nails in a vain attempt to grab something. His dark, raspy chuckle against your clit makes you even wetter, as the vibrations and fingers teasing your entrance only fuel your desire.

He eats you like he's really dying of thirst. He brings out in you sounds that you would be ashamed of if you were in a better, saner, more aware state. And you try to maintain the last of your dignity and stifle your moans by placing a hand over your mouth, but he growls in protest and removes your hands so quickly that you have no idea when it happened. He places it on his shoulder, encouraging you to dig your nails into him as he devours you like his life depends on it. Like he would die if he didn't make you cum, lick up every last bit of wetness from between your legs.

At one point, he puts your leg over his shoulder. He's even closer to you (if possible), but you're not really paying attention to what he's doing as long as his mouth and fingers are still working their magic on you. You pull him closer, chasing your sweet release, when suddenly, he pulls away.

You growl in anger, opening your eyes. He's still on his knees in front of you, his face covered in your juices, and he's staring at you hungrily as if his face wasn't buried in your pussy moments ago.

"Say my name." His demand throws you off balance for a moment. You open your mouth to argue with him, to taunt him, but instead you close it quickly, biting your lip as his finger lazily moves in and out of your needy pussy. "Scream my name and I'll let you cum."

You don't want to give in to him like that. You don't want to show any weakness. But his fingers stretch you so wonderfully, hitting your most sensitive spot. You tremble around his fingers, biting your lip until it draws blood, too proud to admit to yourself how weak you were.

You escaped from the Bene Gesserit and from your fate to the only safe place; it's darkest under the lamp. No one in their right mind would willingly hide in the house of the man to whom you were supposed to submit. But it turned out that you were following the path these witches laid out for you anyway. But damn, he made you feel like you'd never felt with any man or woman...

You growl furiously as he removes his fingers again—right when you're finally about to come. He laughs hoarsely, sucking his fingers clean of your wetness.

"You're extending my fun, little witch. You must like it as much as I do." You protest as he dips his fingers inside you again, taking you close the edge again. You grab his neck, trying to pull him towards you, but he just laughs, intensifying the work of his fingers and fending off your feeble attempts to pull his face back to your needy cunt. "You know what you have to do to cum." He reminds you with a cocky smirk, watching your trembling, panting form.

Feyd drinks in the sight of you, so needy and desperate to orgasm. And it's all because of him. Every little moan, the closing of your eyes and the tilt of your head in pleasure, the ragged breathing, the quickening of your heartbeat, the wetness between your legs, the sweet nectar of the gods dripping down your thighs—it was all because of him. His cock hardens as he imagines how you'll react as he pounds into you like an animal in heat, stretching your tight walls for him. How you'll clench around his length and dig your nails into his back to feel him as close to you as possible. Or when you swell beautifully with his heir...

He will have you there. Willingly. He will prepare you as he is now; he will fuck out of you any thought until nothing except the desire for him remains.

"Feyd..." You moan as he unconsciously speeds up the movements of his fingers, thrusting them into you at breakneck speed. He smiles, blowing air at your pussy, making you moan even louder.

"Again." He demands, licking the small trail of your juices that has formed on your thighs. He welcomes the way you wet his hand and your shawl that was wrapped around his wrist. He'll save it for later this night.

"Feyd!" You pull on his head and he obliges. He couldn't be cruel to you in this state.

You come suddenly, quickly, and intensely. Your vision is blurry and unclear, and your blood is rushing through you as you moan loudly, holding on to him with all your might.

The next thing you know, he's holding you tightly by your trembling legs as he lowers you to his lap. You straddle him, hugging him tightly as you breathe slowly, trying to get back to a state of relative using after he fucked the orgasm of your life out of you. You hide your face in his neck, too disappointed in yourself to see the proud smirk on his face. He lazily rubs your back, holding you as you regain your strenght.

"You owe me, little witch. And you know, I always collect my debt." He growls hoarsely in your ear and presses a kiss on your temple. You can smell your scent on him. You blush, embarrassed, as you can feel desire rising in you again. "No response? Not a single malicious comment? Did I make you come so hard that now you are speechless? Are you really just a little mouse in need of my attention under that strong witch façade?"

"I'm not a fucking mouse." You snap at him in anger, finally coming to your senses.

"So that's the first one. Even better for me." He stands up, slowly carrying you from his lap to the ground. He reaches for your pants and helps you put them on. He grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him. You can't stand alone. You can't fucking stand alone. He laughs as he realises it, which irritates you to the point where you can't control yourself anymore.

"Shut up." You use your voice on him before you bite your tongue to stop yourself. Silence falls between you for a moment. You swallow, realising what you've done. You open your mouth to explain yourself, but, as usual, he beats you to it.

"Hmm… interesting. So you have that fire in you…" He tangles his hand in your hair and watches you closely, fascinated by the way you used your voice on him for the first time. "As sweet as I thought. Better than any water… Use that voice on me in a way I don't like, and I will really punish you, little witch. And this time, it will only be pleasant for me. Understood?" You nod your head with clenched teeth. "Good girl. Let's go. I believe they stopped dropping bombs right when you came on my face and fingers." He brags, letting you go when he sees you can stand on your own. You roll your eyes, realising how often he'll brag about it. You draw your blade and follow him, looking forward to hunting for Fremen.

You try to ignore the sand that… got where he was a few seconds ago and where he had it himself too. Damn bastard.

You walk through the corridors of your base. You're covered in blood, but it doesn't bother you much. Maybe a little when you remember that you will have to remove clotted blood from your hair. You sigh, adjusting the scarf around your neck that you took from some fremen to hide the hickeys as you walk to the war room to give new orders to the soldiers.

The Sietch has been completely destroyed by you. You murdered most of the fremen, and those left alive were taken prisoner... or to the camp brothel. You preferred not to go into details.

As you walk through the halls, you hear rustling behind you. You take a few slow steps and turn around, with your hand on your dagger, only to see na-Baron's harpies. You tense up as you watch the three women carefully and distrustfully.

"How can I help you?" You ask them, trying to avoid showing them genuine disgust and hostility. After all, they had somehow kept Feyd away from you… for now.

"The little witch is in trouble…"

"Our master will be very angry with her…"

"Maybe he'll even let us suck her bones when he's done with her…"

They say one by one, tilting their heads as they observe you. You shiver slightly, but you quickly adopt a hostile, intimidating stance, not caring much about what they say. They may have been cannibals, but you were a trained soldier and killer. You would kill them in a heartbeat if they weren't useful to you in some way.

"What do you want, vultures?" You growl at them, expecting them to get scared and return to their master's chamber, waiting for him like faithful dogs.

"The little witch's friend is here…"

"Our master is interrogating her…"

"And he learns very interesting things about the witch."

"When he's done with her, he'll be ours again."

"We will eat her meat and feast, celebrating our victory."

And what really should scare you more is the part about them saying they're going to eat you, but all you can think about is that friend he's interrogating. Another Bene Gesserit? Impossible. You made sure that everyone who came into contact with you either believed you were dead or forgot that you existed. Except for one… No. No, that wasn't possible.

"I have the blood of hundreds of rats on me. Get out of my sight unless you want yours to adorn my armor. And believe me… I will do it with great pleasure. I bet your master would fuck me on your corpse as a reward." You snap at them, still processing what may have been happening in the interrogation room. If your suspicions were true... you didn't even want to think about it. This couldn't be happening. You're paranoid. After so many years of keeping everything a secret... you couldn't lose control that easily.

You pay them no further attention and continue walking, ignoring their hisses and mocking laughter as you change your plans and head to the interrogation room.

You had to run away. As far away from here as possible. But if you do, he will chase after you. And when he finds you, and there is no doubt that he will, he will gut you and throw your remains to his harpies.

So you couldn't escape. You had to face him and try to tame him somehow. But how the hell are you going to explain to him that you ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be his concubine? Maybe a few years ago he would have understood it, but now that he has found this strange obsession with you, how could you get out of this situation? He'll cut you up before you even try to say anything.

You pass soldiers standing at the door of the interrogation room. They nod at you, letting you in as you hesitantly walk over to see for yourself if the situation is actually as dire as you think.

You feel the cold metal door on your back as it closes behind you with a bang. You freeze in place, swallowing nervously, as you see the Fremen Reverend Mother handcuffed to a chair. What scares you much more than the fact that it is really a Bene Gesserit is that it's Lady Jessica. Your former trainer in that sick sisterhood.

Feyd is standing right in front of her. His hands are gripped tightly around his daggers, and his gaze is focused on the woman in front of him. He strokes the blade of his dagger with his thumb as he is lost in his thoughts. He behaved as if he were completely oblivious to you, but you know him better than to even think for a while that he didn't notice your entrance. But he doesn't say anything as he continues to stare at her intently.

"She can tell you that herself. Right, Y/N?" Lady Jessica looks at you, raising an eyebrow defiantly. Even captured, she looks proud, as if she were the one who had power over what was happening in the room. "I should thank you. If it weren't for you, Paul would never have taken over the Kwisatz Haderach's way. No matter how hard I tried..."

"Feyd…" You ignore her and walk over to Harkonnen. You place a hand on his shoulder, but he just flinches at your touch, moving away from you. His eyes were fixed on the floor; he wasn't giving you even a single glance.

"I'm not surprised. If they sent me to breed with such a monster, I would also run away... not necessarily into his arms, but I really admire your skillful mind. To come up with such intrigue. No one would ever imagine that a little scared girl would run straight into the lion's mouth to take shelter there. I remember how you cried down my skirt when you found out what your mission was. I never would have imagined that my apprentice would go so far."

"Silence!" You shout at her, using the voice, and surprisingly, you succeed. You don't have time to try to understand what just happened—that you used your voice against a much stronger woman than you, the Reverend Mother. You walk up to Feyd and cup his cheek with your hand, forcing him to look at you.

His gaze is blank. He's wearing his mask, blocking out any emotions that might get through and reveal what he's thinking. He takes your hand and moves it away from his face, pushing you away from him like a bug.

"Would you like to see a monster, concubine of the Atreides? I'll be more than happy to show you one…" Before either of you can react, Feyd swings, creating a long gash across her chest. The woman gasps in shock, placing her hand on her wound, from which blood is now flowing down on the floor.

Before you can take a breath to talk some sense into him, he plunges the blade into her chest. You tremble as you hear the sound of cracked bones under the movement of his dagger and the witch's screams.

You don't do anything. You just stand there, watching as Feyd takes out his anger on her, disembowelling her. The metallic smell of blood hits your nostrils, but even that doesn't cause you to react. All you can do is stand and watch. And wait for your turn.

You feel sick as Lady Jassica's screams remind you of your friends who died on Arrakis. You deny what's happening in front of you as your thoughts return to that fateful day.

You weren't sent to Arrakis to try to survive. No, the plan created by Bene Gesserit was much worse. You were sent there to kill each other. This sick test was intended to eliminate weak individuals, leaving only one Bene Gesserit alive, the one who was the strongest among the young generation of women trained by these mad witches.

You were sent on one ship, thrown into the desert with weapons and one bottle of water, as an act of mercy. There were fifty of you. You killed half of them. Or at least that's what the Reverend Mothers told you after the Sisterhood took you back from there..

You were the only one left alive.

From that day on, you promised yourself that you would never let them control your life or make you go through these tests again. You didn't want to take part in their sick games ever again. You preferred to die rather than become their tool again, a monster that blindly follows their orders.

You never wanted to feel powerless or furiously frustrated again.

And now, standing there and staring blankly as Feyd killed the woman who was your mentor in front of you, you felt as if you were once again that helpless girl who is forced to do as she is told and who has no power over anything that is happening around her.

You flinch as blood reaches your shoes. You look up to see Na-Baron turning towards you. Blood was dripping down his armour as he cleaned his blades on her clothes, which were already soaked in blood.

For a moment, you delude yourself, thinking that it's not what you think. That he didn't actually discover the truth about your past in the Bene Gesserit by accident. That everything will be all right, just how it used to.

But by the look in his icy-blue eyes, you know he knows. He gives you the same angry, bloodthirsty glare that he gives his victims moments before they die. But there's something else there. Pain. Betrayal. Without knowing why, you feel a flood of guilt wash over you, outweighing your fear. But you didn't owe him anything. No loyalty or sincere devotion.

You gasp as he pushes you against the wall and presses the knife to your neck, breathing heavily. You feel it gently pierce your skin, causing blood to leak from the wound and run down your neck. He doesn't move away. He doesn't bend down to lick it off your skin. He presses further and harder, looking straight into your eyes. And you don't know if he's just testing you or if he really wants to kill you.

Suddenly, fucking him wasn't the worst solution to the situation you found yourself in...

Part III Taglist: (I hope that everyone is here...) @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd oneshot #house harkonnen #dune part 2 #oneshot #feyd supremacy #feyd smut #feyd rautha x bene gesserit reader #feyd imagine #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen x you #smut #dark romance #toxic behavior

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

I was thinking of reader being pregnant but not being aware yet but bucky can hear the heartbeat of his unborn child but what if the reader and Bucky weren't in an established relationship in fact the two don't really get a long at all but they hooked up once and Reader got pregnant. After a mission they end up in a safe house and Bucky realizes that he's hearing the heartbeat of their unborn child

Unexpected » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger/Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Bucky finds out Y/N is pregnant with his unborn baby when he hears the heartbeat.

Warnings: mix of Fluff and Angst, language, mentions of sex (18+), kissing, use of pet names

A/N: Thank you for requesting @annekelovesreading 🩵

A/N #2: @little-miss-dilf-lover wrote a similar one shot. Just know I’m not copying her in any way. Her and I just got the same request. She said I can write this and I thank her for allowing me to write this🩷

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found this one on Pinterest.

“I had him, Barnes!” You yelled, panting.

“No you didn’t. You could barely-” That’s when he heard it, the noise he’s been hearing all week.

“I could barely what, huh?” You asked.

“Nothing.” He clears his throat. “Let’s just finish this mission so we can go to the safe house.” He says, gently nudging you in the direction you two need to go.

Bucky thought he had been hearing things all week. He has been hearing a little thumping noise. He only hears it when he’s around you which is weird, considering that you two don’t get along. He’s been trying to figure out what the noise is and it’s driving him crazy. That was the only thing on his mind as you two finished the mission and went to the safe house. It didn’t take long for realization to hit him. The little thumping noise he has been hearing all week is a heartbeat of an unborn baby. Meaning, you’re pregnant with his child. Bucky remembered the one time you and him had sex. You two got drunk off of Asgardian alcohol Thor gave you and him at Tony’s party a few weeks ago, making his eyes widen.

“Oh my god.” Bucky says to himself.

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair as he paced back and forth in the bedroom. If you knew, you would’ve told him, right? You wouldn’t keep something this important from him, would you? Or maybe you don’t know it yet. Instead of jumping to conclusions, he laid down on the bed and tried to relax, but that got him nowhere. He just stared up at the ceiling. Bucky already knew that he wasn’t going to get any sleep that night so he just tried to relax. He turned the TV on for background noise to drown out his thoughts. He soon fell asleep. A few hours later, he woke up from his dreamless sleep. A sigh left his lips as he got out of bed to get something to drink. He stopped in his tracks, hearing the heartbeat of his unborn child coming from your bedroom. Bucky was tempted to go in your room to hear the heartbeat better, but he didn’t want to wake you. He went to the kitchen and got some water and went back to his room. Bucky laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling once again till he fell asleep. When morning came, he woke up to the sound of birds chirping and the sun shining through the curtains. Bucky rubbed his eyes to wake himself up more before getting out of bed. He went to the kitchen, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion when the smell of coffee didn’t instantly hit his nose.

“You didn’t make coffee?” Bucky asks, slightly annoyed.

“No.” You took a sip of your orange juice. “For some reason, it’s been making me nauseous for the past couple weeks.” You tell him.

Bucky’s breath got caught in his throat when you mentioned being nauseous.

“That’s weird.” He says, clearing his throat.

Bucky got a cup from the cabinet and poured himself some orange juice. He went to the living room and sat down next to you.

“Just out of curiosity…” Bucky took a sip of his orange juice before asking his question. “Does anything else make you nauseous?” He asks curiously.

“Now that I think about it, some of my favorite foods have been making me feel sick lately.” You answered. “Wait a minute. We don’t like each other. Why are you asking me this?” You asked, looking at him.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of his orange juice.

“Are you thinking I’m pregnant?” You asked.

“What? No. I’m not thinking that at all.” He says, lying through his teeth.

That’s when Bucky heard the little heartbeats again. He glanced down at your stomach, listening to the heartbeat of his unborn child.

“Either you have a staring problem or you know something I don’t.” You say.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, moving his eyes away from your stomach.

“You’re a terrible liar.” You tell him. “Tell me what’s going on before I interrogate you.” You say, turning your body to face him.

“Last time I checked, you’re not a detective or a cop.” He says, standing up and went to the kitchen.

“I was trained in that area, Barnes.” You followed him to the kitchen. “I’m going to ask you again, do you know something I don’t?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Bucky gave in with a sigh and turned to face you.

“Heartbeats.” Is all he said.

“You mean our heartbeats?” You asked.

“Not ours. An unborn baby’s heartbeat.” He says.

“What do you mean an unborn baby’s heartbeat? I’m not-” You stopped to think for a moment. “I’m not pregnant. Am I?” You say, more to yourself.

You kept thinking. You haven’t gotten your period in two months and most of your favorite foods and drinks make you nauseous. Some of your clothes don’t fit you like they used to. Your mind started to wander to the time you and Bucky had sex. That was two months ago as well. You two got drunk on Asgardian alcohol Thor gave you guys and neither of you thought to use a condom when you guys had sex. As you were putting the pieces together, it was beginning to make sense.

“Maybe I am pregnant.” That’s when your eyes widen in realization. “Oh my god.” You whispered. “I’ve been taking a lot of hits during this mission. What if- What if I did something to hurt the baby?” You say, looking at Bucky with tears in your eyes.

“Hey, don’t go there.” Bucky cooes, wrapping his arms around you. “You didn’t know, doll. I’m sure the baby is fine.” He says softly, rubbing your back to calm you down.

Bucky stood in the kitchen, holding you in his arms till you said something.

“How can we raise a baby together if we don’t get along?” You asked, looking up at him.

“We’ll figure something out.” He says, moving a piece of your hair from your face.

“What about the mission? I obviously can’t finish this mission in the condition I’m in.” You say.

“We’ll call Steve later and figure something out. As of right now, let’s get you comfortable.” He says.

Bucky lead you to his bedroom. You got underneath the blanket while Bucky stared at your stomach for a moment.

“Can I listen to the heartbeat?” Bucky asks.

“Of course you can. It’s your baby too.” You say with a smile.

You took the blanket off of you and moved your t-shirt just above your stomach. Bucky’s eyes filled with adoration when he seen your baby bump beginning to form. He laid down on the bed next to you and pressed his ear against your stomach, smiling when he heard the baby’s heartbeat.

“What’s it like?” You asked curiously.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.” Bucky says, completely astonished.

You couldn’t help but reach a hand down, running your fingers through his hair. Bucky hummed at the feeling.

“You know…” Bucky starts. “I’ve always wanted a daughter. That was in the 40s and I still want that now.” He tells you.

“Wanna know something?” You asked. “I’ve always wanted a daughter too.” You say with a smile.

A smile grew on his face. What Bucky did next surprised both of you. He leaned up and kissed you passionately.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, pulling away.

“No need to be sorry. I’m pregnant with your baby. You get to kiss me all you want.” You say, cupping his scruffy cheeks and rubbed your thumbs over his beard.

“Well, in that case…” Bucky kissed you again. “A kiss for my doll and…” He moves down to your stomach. “A kiss for our little one.” He says, kissing your stomach.

“You really think we can work this out?” You asked.

“For the sake of the baby, I hope we can.” He says, lying down next to you.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you protectively and pulled you closer to him, placing one of his hands on your stomach. You and Bucky spent the rest of the day cuddling and talking out your differences so you two can raise this baby together.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

#sergeant james buchanan barnes #sergeant james barnes #sergeant barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes #winter soldier #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #avengers #marvel #marvel mcu #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x pregnant reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #avenger!bucky #avenger!reader #pregnant!reader

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Cheater + Cheater Reader

Yan Cheaters are funny lemme try-

Yan Cheater who sees their darling dearest out on the town alone. You should be with them, but they'll fix that shortly. You're the person of their dreams and after so many failed relationships they're happy to find the right one. On their way over, their entire world crumbles as you're seen hugging and chatting up some random with a closeness you've never showed them. The unfamiliar face slings an arm around your shoulder as you walk off together - laughing as if you were without guilt.

You heartless bitch. How could you? After they'd give you their heart - their everything. Fine, fuck you - they could do the same thing. After crying through the night and crying their eyes they hit up a past fling to forget all about you; aggravated that all they can think of as the look at their partner is features that remind them of you. They ignore your calls, block you on everything, and have the time of their life with whoever's available... And looks like you.

The first time you saw them with someone else you turned tail and ran, saving your tears for a better time and person. Good - run off. You know what you did. They won't chase you - no matter how red their heart bleeds after seeing you after so long. You meet again at a party a mutual friend left in the dark was throwing. You, for closure - them, looking for a new body to take home. They couldn't even hide their disgust as you stomped up to them, two lockets in hand.

"What the hell did I do to you...."

They scoff. Trying to play innocent? "You know what you did."

"No! No I don't! You ghost me for weeks and never seem to be home when I try to talk to you, but the second I see you, you have your arm around somebody else. As far I remember, we were happy together. What did I do to you to deserve this?!"

"Hm... I think it was roughly a month ago. You and that little whore you met outside that coffee shop that just opened."

"Coffee shop?... Wha-" Your eyes widen. Unable to control your anger, you slap them across the face so hard the blow rattles in their teeth. They clutch their jaw. You little-

"That was my cousin, asshole!"

You toss the necklaces to the ground, two sets of initials engraved on their fronts.

"You didn't even bother to ask me about it before you ran off. If you really loved me, you wouldn't say something instead of jumping to conclusions. I knew dating you was a mistake. You spineless coward."

Their tongue feels heavy, likely cut on their teeth from your blow - bleeding; just like the heart they thought they lost. In a way - they truly had.

"Couldn't get a refund since they were custom" You spit on the fallen jewelry as you turn your back to them. "Happy Anniversary."

They fall to their knees, crawling after you as you fall into the crowd - grabbing your ankle. "No, baby. Please, baby - I fucked up bad, I know, but I can make this up to you. Sweetheart please - I'll delete everyone in my phone right now, even my parents. You'll be the only one. You're all I need. Baby, see? I'm doing it - look. Look at me - I'm sorry. Angel? Honey? D- don't leave me... DON'T LEAVE ME."

You have to change your phone number the very next day from all the calls you receive from the burner phones they purchased that same night to speak their part. Jobs too - as they stand outside and harass customers since your boss refused to let them in by your own wishes - accusing everyone of trying to take you away from them. You return home one day to find your front door unlocked and before you can realize the danger you step inside - your ex waiting with a carbon copy of every gift you threw out and wearing everything you ever gave them.

"Darling... I'm wearing that shirt you bought me last Christmas. I honestly thought it was hideous - but...it came from you. I'm wearing that hoodie you thought you lost too. I lied because I wanted to have something that smells like you to keep. It doesn't smell much like you anymore. Only my tears. I'm sorry - I won't ever lie to you again. You're perfect. My sweet angel. Please...give me a second chance. I don't know what I'll do if you don't."

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere blurb #yandere concept #yandere drabble #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere cheater

[clairdelunelove]

call me

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

genre: fluff! (rescue drabble!)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, mentions of motorcyclist!ghost, protective!ghost

synopsis: the downtime after missions was rarely a time that ghost looked forward to. everyone's aware to leave him alone during this period. that is, until he gets a call from you asking for his help to rescue you from an awkward situation!

a.n. wOW! hi lovelies, it's been a while! I was inspired to write this because something similar happened to me at an anime convention! and yes it was with a mw 2019 jawbone ghost cosplayer hehe (¬‿¬) oh, here's my kofi! and pls enjoy! <3

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obsessed with the idea that ghost would drop everything and come running to you if you called him. 

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the conclusion of an operation was, albeit, a bit bittersweet for ghost. sure, he benefited from the downtime of not being in an environment that constantly triggered his fight or flight response and a small break was necessary for his well-being to avoid pushing past his physical limitations. yet, those were the only beneficial factors he could conjure up. most operators took advantage of the intermission to catch up with friends at pubs or visit family for a couple days– a luxury he never allowed himself to have. thus, he spent the days of rest endlessly secluded. trapped within the barren walls of his flat. choosing to occupy his time thumbing through a nonfiction novel or finishing some exterior maintenance. he referred to his living space as a place to rest his chaos. to ease his hardships into a lasting slumber– that is, until he’d receive intel about a new operation. and his home was an enigma of great strength accompanied with struggle, providing a solitude that ghost was well acquainted with. he preferred it that way. no one reaches out to him during this time of isolation. which is why he doesn’t expect your name to flash on his phone’s screen and it’s even more astounding that he chooses to pick up the call. 

ghost who leans low enough that his leg almost touches the smooth asphalt when he cruises down the road. the sleek, pitch-black motorcycle adapts easily when he wrenches the steel handlebars. after adjusting in his seat, his gloved hands rev to intensify the speed while his mind recalls the conversation he had with you. approximately two minutes ago. the way you quietly pleaded, “could you please come and get me?” and immediately, the lack of context backed with the sticky hoarseness in your voice awakened unease within him. “you hurt?” his instinctive question is followed with a gruff, “who do I need to talk to.” and the sheer seriousness of his threat forces a minor giggle to leave your lips. the sound encourages him to mull over possibilities. where were you? where could you be right now? think, damn it, think. he drags a heavy hand across his face while vaguely remembering the lighthearted conversation you had earlier in the week. a pair of squad members had politely asked about your weekend plans to which you shared that you planned to get some grocery shopping out of the way. a mundane answer that pulled a couple laughs. but now, the rather ordinary task seemed to evolve into a nightmare as he hears you suck in a wobbly breath. “you still in town, sweetheart?” ghost forces his voice steady despite the crazed way he’s tugging on his shoes and shoving away stray papers to retrieve his keys. you instantly respond that you are and he tries not to dwell on the chance that his presence might’ve helped calm your nervousness. compels himself to solve the blatant issue before figuring out why his decision-making is so sudden. why he’s swiftly weaving through traffic in hopes of finding you when he should be relaxing at his flat. but his voice rumbles out of your phone’s speaker when he instructs, “stay put. I’ll come get you.” 

ghost who visibly tenses up when he spots you from the crowd of shoppers. most are occupied in their own business; choosing from a variety of commodities or paying for their groceries at the checkout line. but that’s not what he’s here for. treading through aisles, his appearance manages to raise curiosity from a couple onlookers before they tactfully glance away from the massive man. having one’s identity partially hidden away by layers of clothing while clutching onto a motorcycle helmet tends to facilitate that reaction from the average citizen. it works in his favor. his heavy-lidded eyes scan the room and before long he recognizes a tuft of your hair. he figured his first encounter with you would be under different circumstances, albeit more jovial and perhaps you’d grace him with one of those blinding smiles that you reserve solely for him. however, all he sees is vermillion flooding his vision. you’re backed into a secluded corner of the store by a sleazy man who’s testing his luck. unfortunately for the stranger, ghost was never a believer of good fortune. you venture to put more distance between you and the man but to no avail. he inches closer. “like I said earlier,” you strive to keep your tone of voice stable, “he’s on his way already. I don’t need a ride.” a courageous act but the guy is already responding. a shoddy decision, in ghost’s opinion, because upon hearing the stranger’s crude innuendo, ghost’s nails form crescents within his palms from how fiercely he’s balling his fists. sees you shrink from the words. and he’s a reaper with the sole mission to deliver punishment.

ghost who eases beside you and subtly reaches to touch your shoulder while murmuring, “I’ve got you.” his voice leaves his lips in a soothing drawl that has you inwardly crooning. safety is synonymous with him. always is. initially checks in with you before engaging in conversation with the stranger. you’re top priority. “simon?” his name is a relieved gasp from your plush lips. clearly you weren’t expecting him to step into the situation with hopes of diffusing it. he slowly tilts his head, “told ya I’d come.” mentions it like it’s a common occurrence that he spends his downtime shutting down harassment directed towards you. yet the first observation you make is that he’s dressed rather casually. clad in an ash-colored hoodie and denim jeans that always cause you to wonder whether he has them tailored because of how well they fit his physique. the homey outfit is a sight to behold considering you typically saw him in uniform; you ravished the domestic image. burnt it into your memory for safe keeping. apparently, so does ghost. “you look proper cozy today.” waving a gloved hand, he indicates your casual outfit and the sudden change of topic prompts a small grin to form on your face. which, ultimately, is his entire plan. dragging your eyes to a sudden motion, you watch as he rolls his sleeves up to reveal a swirl of veins and intricately tatted skin. he’s mystifying; everything about him is– which seemingly adds to his appeal and no matter how vigorously you fight against it, you can’t help but feel the inevitable pull. “don’t get any ideas, sweetheart.” of course the comment is meant to scold but the breathy rasp in his voice morphs it into pure sin. he shoots you an inquisitive glance when he regards your heated gaze and wordlessly chastises your behavior with a raise of his dark brows. 

ghost who absolutely resents whenever someone interrupts you. the act itself is rude beyond doubt but it’s especially ignorant when it concerns you. and the tacky stranger had the audacity to do it in front of ghost. from beneath his mask, he clenches his jaw when the other man decides to open his mouth to continue conversing with you. again. ghost shifts, positioning himself between the two of you, and spits out the words, “you’re doing me ‘ead in. do one, will ya?” his tone is level, devoid of any expletives in his question yet his manchester accent is gravelly enough for his words to border a threat. the manifestation of trouble. he pushes up his sleeves for good measure. truth be told, ghost would’ve simply told the other man to ‘piss off.’ perhaps give him the finger. but you were around and he favored appearing posh. 

ghost who basks in the gratifying burn of watching the stranger scurry away from just his words. runs like a scruffy dog getting caught going through a trash bin and he bites back a snicker. but who wouldn’t run from ghost? dressed as the embodiment of shadows and danger. probably his physique too, if he was being honest. towering at six feet and some more. he states, “don’t think the bloke was fond of me.” can’t refrain from the mockery that lines his words. perhaps the possessiveness was corrupting him more than he imagined. he glances at you, paying special regard to the way the corners of your lips curl at his remark, “suppose you’re right. I appreciate you coming, by the way.” isn’t quite sure why you’re thanking him. he’d rush to you whenever you needed him. but he dismisses it with a throaty, “not a problem.” and it dawns on him that the two of you are alone. away from the prying eyes of the task force members. surrounded by the normalcy of civilian life. and the motorcycle gear that he’s adorned with seems obvious that there’s more to him than he lets on. like the fact that he rushed here without a second doubt. there’s a glimmer in your eyes and he’s aware that your mind is racing with possibilities. “I wonder,” there’s a playfulness in your tone as you shift closer to him, “what was lieutenant riley up to before coming to my rescue?”  

ghost who exhibits the duality of man when he’s with you. his voice gets caught in his throat and he promptly answers, “nothin'.” because you’re placing a gentle hand on his forearm. vanquishes him to a robot that can only utter a single word from a single touch. this wasn’t what he was like before; the esteemed protector with a jealous streak. no, he’s reduced to a pining jumble of tenderness for you. even through the layers of clothing he recognizes your warmth and yearns for it. you gaze up at him through your lashes, a telltale sign that his lack of plans served as an invitation to propose more. he knows that look. “you’re quite a secretive man, simon,” you teasingly narrow your eyes, “has anyone ever told you that?” your fingertips trace the swirls of ink on his arm and he desperately tries to fight against the way his eyes drop into a half-lidded stare. your touch always reduces him to a puddle of adoration. “no,” he breathes out and hopes to convey his ardor in irony, “never.” knows you’re grinning at his automatic responses and heat bubbles within him. 

ghost who allows your caress to dip down to his wrist which, conveniently, was the hand that held onto his motorcycle helmet. watches as you draw delicate patterns on the helmet’s shell. recognizes that you’re working up courage. for what, he's not sure. maybe you’ll ask him how long he’s been a motorcyclist. that’s typically the first question that’s settled. but nothing could prepare him for your honeyed voice that asks, “can I ride?” and how you use him as leverage to push up on your tiptoes and pleadingly whisper, “please?” he's pretty certain that you mean getting a ride on his motorcycle. yet, with the way your lips are practically pressing against his neck and how the heat of your breath forces him to stifle a groan of satisfaction, all logic flies out the window. pure, unadulterated hunger for you seizes ghost in an unexplainable grasp. he needs you. wishes he could whisk you away to someplace else. perhaps to his place. gosh, he appreciated the downtime after a mission. “bloody vixen,” he murmurs lowly while slipping the helmet into your hands, “it’s all yours, sweetheart.” on his motorcycle it typically takes 10 minutes flat to get to his place or 7 minutes if he turns a blind eye to the speed limit– which is an act he’s willingly committed before. 

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon riley #call of duty x reader #call of duty #simon riley imagine #cod x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley drabble #ghost x you #ghost cod

[moodyhaaze]

just me ranting about s*lmare again,,, sigh

it’s kind of getting on my nerves seeing people getting mad at others for pointing out s*lmare’s shitty behavior. like, i get that people may not want to see negativity about the games/devs but acting like people aren’t allowed to be negative is a whole different thing.

look. i’m not trying to be seen as the like “ultimate s*lmare hater™︎” or anything (or maybe i am), but i’m just going to compile a quick and nowhere near exhaustive list for everybody so they understand why i and so many other fans are still so mad. because quite frankly i’m sick of people crying on twitter that i’m “just being mean” when what i’m really doing is calling a spade a spade.

for an ENTIRE YEAR before nightbringer was released, devs never told anybody that a new game was coming out. everybody grinded for an ENTIRE YEAR because we were kept under the impression that a new season was coming to OG only to be told “haha we’re going to make you pretty much redo the whole story again (but in the past :O !!!) only after which you’ll get a conclusion for OG :)” [the end of lesson 80 of OG literally said coming soon until AFTER nightflop was announced.]

devs waited until a reddit ama to even tell us that a new game was coming, but only when asked by a fan who’s question subsequently got buried in all the other responses. the only reason anybody else saw it is because it was screenshotted and posted to twitter and in its own post on reddit. no official announcement was made prior. the first official announcement we got was like a week or two before nightflop was released.

they keep pushing out terrible quality events back to back just to milk money from fans even though the vast majority of fans have said they don’t like back to back events because the quality of them are horrendous. most players would rather have fewer events with better writing then to have constant shit ones.

never told us that daily chats were ending in OG. we only knew this was happening because someone sent a ticket to the devs and it was then screenshotted and posted to twitter.

s*lmare has proved time and time again that they only care about whales. they’ve proven this by paywalling a lot of features in Nightbringer. and before anyone drops in with “but they give us more devil points in battles >:(“ shut up. haven’t you noticed the increase in need to spend devil points? whether for character outfits, sprite outfits, level up sales (that they’ve made more frequent by making leveling up easier), ap sales, etc… they’ve only given you more DP so you’ll spend more DP.

they literally shoved an ad down our throats as many times as they could (in NB) by putting it on the HOME. SCREEN. as well as making it one of the first things you see when you boot up the app and in the side news thing. they didn’t do anything about it until fans complains relentlessly for WEEKS.

they took away the 10x free pulls for HDD 4 (which is OG’s birthday NOT Nightflop’s). they have always done the free pulls since the games inception. they did this so that fans are more likely to use they’re own vouchers or pay irl money for the cards they want.

they lowered nightmare drops EVEN LOWER to force players to draw more if they want certain cards (this goes back to putting players in a position to use irl money to buy devil points for nightmare summons if they want certain cards).

wanderers whereabouts and fabsnap are lazy and unnecessary and from what i understand, most people barely fool with it. the models are cheap and horrendous. (i get it’s a mobile game and the graphics are not going to be like PS5 level, but come on.)

they took away birthday events without an announcement. people were saving AP and demon vouchers for their favorite boys’ birthday events only to instead be given ONLY a birthday nightmare with a pity OF 200. they also stopped doing birthday events before asmo’s 2023 bday, leaving him as the only brother without a prince card. never mind the fact that they’ve paywalled birthday items in wanderer’s whereabouts for $3.99 (usd).

they changed some devil grams (in OG) to please a loud minority of players that didn’t like having to kiss the brothers in the devilgrams. in a game about dating and kissing demons. they pandered to a small (but quite loud) minority of players BITCHING that they didn’t want to kiss the brothers. in a game about dating demons.

they’ve infantilized the game and lowered the age rating (to 12+) to make it more accessible to younger audiences which has significantly lowered the quality of the writing. this is a game about demons !! they are not child friendly and they don’t need to be written as such. a game about dating and romancing demons is a kids game now.

i want to express very sincerely that i absolutely adore obey me. i have for the past four years. (you should see my collection of luci merch LOL). it’s the first franchise i have devoted myself to so strongly. i just really hate s*lmare and how they keep getting greedier while offering NOTHING to fans but lukewarm content and constant money pandering. this franchise means a lot to me, and i know that rings true for most of the players, and it hurts to see it going down the drain like this considering it is so special to me. i love this community (except when people are crying over misinterpreting criticisms against s*lmare/devs as personal attacks) and i love what everybody creates. it’s all so so very special to me and it’s important that we all understand this. these games and franchise could be something so very special. it started out so different (in a good way!) than almost all other otomes i’ve played, but now it’s getting left in the dust because a multimillion dollar company is more worried about how to milk an extra $3.99 from their fans than they are making quality content that fans would be WILLING to pay for, instead of locking content behind paywalls.

i wish nightbringer was never a thing. the story they wanted to make could have easily been a 1-2 season arc in OG. but instead we were forced to essentially play the same game over again, just in a different setting and time, and pretty much be told that the time we’ve spent grinding and leveling up our cards and getting through all the battles in OG was wasted. all for a new game that nickels and dimes players while offering shit in return.

solmare was proven that they have no intention of being transparent with fans. that they only want to milk whatever money they can from us. it’s created a lot of distrust and aversion in the community. and believe me, after all this, and even after obey me is run through and isn’t a cash cow for them anymore, i’ll never play another fucking solmare game ever again.

❤︎ it’ll always be ‘one master to rule them all.’

#˗ˏˋ moody talks obey me ˊˎ˗ #literally fuck nightbringer #and fuck solmare #obey me #obey me satan #lucifer obey me #obey me mammon #obey me diavolo #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me solmare #obey me fandom #obey me! shall we date? #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #obey me! #obey me barbatos #obey me belphegor #obey me nightbringer

[abbyromanoff]

hellooo, i wanna request some story, this is kinda angst of something so basically, yn and lizzie have a date plan or dinner plan or something and yn like spent 2 days just fixing everything to be perfect for the plan but yn spent hours too just to wait for lizzie and unfortunately yn get the voicemail that lizzie cant catch up anymore because she has to do something else... so that's it... joint it with the conclusion if you want !!

PICK AND CHOOSE

PAIRINGS: Elizabeth Olsen x reader

WORD COUNT: 1863

WARNINGS: angst, guilt, arguing, kinda mean!Lizzie, jealousy, fluff, think that’s it :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. The candles were the only light illuminating the room, the dinner you had prepared sat patiently on the table, and you wore her favorite dress.

She was meant to be home early tonight seeing as the two of you had been planning this for a few weeks. But as the clock continued to tick, your hopes slowly lessened. You had tried calling her eight times already, and six messages were left in her inbox now.

You sat with a frown, sighing with sadness lurking in your body. You rubbed your tired eyes that had tears prepped and gathered the food into a container, placing a sticky note on the top and writing ‘you missed date night again, here’s leftovers.’ It took up until an hour later when she finally answered your call.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“‘What’s up?’ Really? You’re asking me what’s up?” Her brows tightened, her confusion growing.

“Uhm, yes? What did I do? I’m confused.” You were growing angrier as she continued to speak, and you felt your hands clenching until they were reddened.

“Hm, I don’t know, Elizabeth, what did you do? Oh, that’s right! Our fucking date night is missed once again, what a surprise!” You heard a deep breath coming from the other side before a mumbled curse shot from her lips.

“Look, baby, I’m really sorry-“

“I don’t feel like hearing it right now, this is the third fucking time in the past two months alone that you’ve stood me up! Do you know how embarrassing it is to dress up all nice, make dinner, prepare candles and a bath, and clean every inch of the house to the brim just so we could have one nice night that you promised you’d finally make it to?”

“I know, I know, okay? I’m really, really fucking sorry, baby. I promise to make it up to you, I do.” You shook your head in disbelief with a chuckle.

“No, don’t promise me shit anymore. I can’t trust a word you tell me.” The both of you were suddenly interrupted, her by the director asking for her presence, and you by a call by your friend.

“Go ahead and leave, I’m getting a call anyways.”

“Wait- look, can we talk about this later?”

“Yes, bye.” You nearly pressed the button before her voice quickly entered once again.

“That’s it? No ‘love you?’”

“I have to answer Scarlett, Lizzie. Love you bye.” You cut off her last few words that came in revult and answered the call quickly, apologizing for taking so long the moment her voice met the sound waves.

“Don’t worry about it, I was just seeing if you were doing anything. I’m all alone and usually I would love that but I need some company.” You chuckled, leaning against the counter once you grabbed the glass of wine you earlier poured for yourself.

“Yeah, I’m all alone too. Me and Liz were meant to have a date tonight but she missed it again, so I’m all yours.” You could hear whatever actions the woman was doing come to a halt quickly.

“Are you serious? Again, Y/N? Why are you still letting her treat you like this?” You looked down to your glass, the reflection from the red drink making you realize how crappy your life was slowly becoming. If it wasn’t for Scarlett, you’d be all alone.

“I don’t mean to. Can you just come over maybe? I made dinner for us and, well, she didn’t touch it so it’s all yours.” Twenty minutes later a knock was placed on your door before she walked in. She didn’t need to knock, she only insisted on doing so to alert you of her arrival.

“Hello, darlin’, where’s my food?” You handed her a plate that you heated up, as you had taken the foot out of Lizzie’s container and redid your little table design. She oohed at the candles and pulled out your chair for you before heading to her own.

“Mm, this is delicious, sweetheart; you always know how to feed me right.” You chuckled softly, picking at your own.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t let that bitch get you down.”

“She’s my fiancé, not a bitch.” You didn’t sound entirely sure or convincing on your answer, and she rolled her eyes jokingly.

“You know I don’t like her.”

“You used to. You know, before me and her got together, you guys were friends.” You felt as though you ruined the small bond the two had, and you didn’t want to be the fault. While you found it hysterical whenever your best friend would make fun of your lover, you still didn’t want to be the cause of their damage.

“Yeah because you two together opened my eyes on how aggravating she is.” You hummed and twirled the engagement ring on your finger, your eyes seemingly getting lost in the pearls that adorned it.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. Look, I’m sorry but if she can’t even show up to a few dates how is she going to show up to other important stuff? Like, I don’t know, birthdays, or something.”

“It was just a few dates though, it’s not like she missed our wedding.”

“It’s not just a date, it was something that was clearly important to you that you worked so hard on. She couldn’t even care enough about your date to remember it, what makes you think she’ll care about anything else?” You felt all your witty comebacks falling short as you had no response. She was right, Lizzie obviously didn’t care enough to show up now, who’s to say she ever will?

“Someone would have to be a complete idiot to stand up a pretty girl like you, and I don’t think those five years at college have been doing her any good apparently.” You grinned as she shrugged her shoulders, knowing herself that she was right.

“Well, now that the better person is here, why don’t we have some fun?” You failed to notice the dinging texts from your phone, and you failed to care. You fully engrossed your mind in the moment with Scarlett, because nothing brought you more joy than doing so.

‘youre hanging out with scarlett? wtf it was a date that’s it’

‘you know i dont like her Y/N’

‘fucking answer me already’

‘im on my way home, you better be there when i arrive’

‘why cant you just take sorry? i told you i was sorry is that not enough’

‘im nearby’

‘stop fucking ignoring me Y/N’

‘baby im sorry imma make it up to you just answer me please’

‘this shit is seriously starting to piss me off’

To anyone else, she would’ve seemed incredibly overbearing and possessive, but you never once saw her that way. She was anxious and worried to lose you, was all.

“You don’t use your phone anymore? If I’m the one paying for that shit then you can fucking answer my texts, Y/N.” Your eyes met hers as you placed your card down for the game the two of you had engaged in. It didn’t help you case how close you two looked as you sat opposite to hide your deck, your legs entangled and your bodies close enough to cause suspicion. You didn’t see it this way, and you assumed Scarlett hadn’t either, so you didn’t understand why Lizzie was so mad.

“Shit, I didn’t know you texted me, I’m sorry.” You quickly responded, but Scarlett was hot on your tails.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to like that?” Lizzie clenched her jaw tightly as she removed her jacket in a quick manner, throwing it on the couch as she spoke.

“I’m talking to my fiancé, Scarlett, and I don’t think you have any place in this. So I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” But she didn’t budge, only crossing her arms over her chest as you watched a small dispute form between the two. It felt like your world was slowly caving in even deeper, and every piece of it was caused by Elizabeth. Scarlett was the one helping you repair her damage, but it didn’t help when you continued on with your relationship still.

“Please stop arguing. I’m sorry, okay? I tried making this house perfect for you and I prepared a nice dinner and a bath, I even wore my nicest dress for you when knowing the pieces cut into my shoulder blade. You didn’t show up and that’s not my fault, and I’m tired of waiting on you for everything. So can I please just have one night where I get to be with my friend and actually laugh and smile before I have to deal with this again? I’m tired of it, Lizzie, it’s so tiring going back and forth with you constantly and I need some time away from you right now.” Their words came to a halt, and they both turned to face you. Your fiancé stared at you with a hint of sadness covered by disbelief, while Scarlett gave you a sorrowful look.

“Seriously? You’re this pissed over one date? We can reschedule or something, I was busy at work because some of us actually have jobs and have to make their own money for a living.”

“It’s not just a date, Liz. You put work before me now and everything has changed. Just because I’m not the one paying for it doesn’t mean I’m not the one putting food on the table, I do just as much as you by taking care of this place.” Your best friend stood closer to you now, rubbing your shoulders soothingly as she took your hand and walked you away. Lizzie followed after you two with complaints, but Scarlett closed the door to your bedroom before she could enter. The lock was turned, and while you felt horrible for not letting your partner into her own room, you knew you didn’t want to see her right now.

“Alright, beautiful, I’ll deal with her and you stay here and try and get some rest for me, yeah?” You nodded and stared at your fingers that tapped against your leg nervously.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make this a big deal.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, the woman outside that door is the one who did. This will never be your fault, and if she tries to make that seem true you let me know right away.” You were lucky to have the blonde help you so much, and you just wished Liz was able to do the same as her. But they could never compete, Scarlett would always win the way to your heart in the end and deep down your lover knew that, which is why she was so mad you chose her instead of waiting. But she also knew you deserved better than her, and she knew she couldn’t give you the same love you deserved. But she would never be willing to let you go, whether she knew it was wrong or not, you would always be her girl.

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[chrissshub]

SEXUAL HEALINGS

FT. TOJI FUSHIGURO

˚ ༘♡₊˚ˑ༄ؘ  PAIRINGS: Sex Therapist!Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

˚ ༘♡₊˚ˑ༄ؘ WORD COUNT: 5.6K

˚ ༘♡₊˚ˑ༄ؘ CW: dubcon, teasing, fingering, clit play, makeshift bondage, groping, grinding, nipple play, oral (m. receiving), masturbation, couch sex, use of pet names, spitting, squirting, 17+ content

˚ ༘♡₊˚ˑ༄ؘ WORDS FROM CHRIS: I’ve been meaning to write this months ago but now feels like the best time to finish it. Hope you enjoy and don’t let this flop pls

Bearing the full wrath of his emerald hues weren’t for the weak, even if the glossy glare of glasses weakened its effects. You shrunk in his presence, your body melding into the cherry leather couch. In truth, anything Toji did sent the cold prickles to lick at your spine. The adjusting grips upon his pen, the mindlessly shifts in his seat, and even the faint grins brought a searing rouse to your mind.

For the past two weeks since discovering his services, it’s been nothing but the same antics that etched into your impressionable mind. The memories seemed to fancy you best at night, replaying each detail to the ‘t’.

From the thick pads of his fingers, he’d strumming along his jawline as he spoke ever so softly to you to the buttons of both his white dress shirt and cafè slacks threatening to pop with every nudge of his body. The sultrous thoughts stained your mind, even guiding your wandering hand to forbidden places.

Nowadays during the visits, it was a challenge to focus on any issues without the suffocating vines of lust laced around every inch of your body. It surely didn’t help knowing that the Toji Fushiguro sat before you, his ears piqued to all to come.

Today however, brought its own specific issues to the table. To begin with, your legs clenched more than usual, paired with the uncontrollable flairs of heat welling upon your skin.

He’s studying you again—every inch as a matter of fact. Toji’s chewing on the cap of his blue pen to keep his sight company, breathing the scene of you in pure heat. The squeeze of your thighs, the hitches clogging your chest, down to the quiver of your lips—it’s all just enticing him to entertain you once more.

“So Y/N, in the time that we’ve started these sessions…you still have told me what the actual issue is.”

“I haven’t?! It’s…a lot to explain but I guess I owe you that…”

Toji’s visage bears a displeased look, courtesy of the squint narrowing his eyes. Your teeth pinch at the plush of your bottom lip, the spry nerves of angst bleeding across your skin. You’ve come to know that very look too well, alerting you of his impending limits.

“Well…I can’t exactly…cum anymore.”

“And why is that?”

“Stress, mostly. So much is going on in my life right now but I didn’t think things were that bad. I can’t pinpoint what it really is. And it’s kinda embarrassing…to admit it aloud…to you.”

Toji’s entire face fell into a lackluster frown, a wrinkle placed between his brows. His interest’s been piqued by the sudden revelation, coaxing him to sit upright in his leather armchair. The pads of his fingers fall to their steady state, grazing the chiseled contour of his jaw as he presses on.

“Have you been having issues with any partners or…?”

“I think it’s best if I don’t enter any relationships until I get it situated. So I’ve just been…—”

“You’ve learned it through touching yourself, I got that much. It seems we’ve got quite the problem on our hands, don’t we, Doll?”

At his brash conclusion, you found yourself filled with a wave of heat, embarrassment prickling at the highs of your cheeks down the very tips of your fingers. As vulgar as it may be put, Toji couldn’t be any closer to the truth.

Call it a kind gesture or cowering in loss of confidence, you couldn’t trust anyone but yourself with your needs. Yet, even that only brought you so far. All the time, all the dollars spent, and not a single toy in your reach ever came close to easing that build so deep within your tummy.

Though, to hear Toji utter such words without a shred of the hesitation you held stirred something in you, bringing a flutter of butterflies to swarm to your belly. You couldn’t dare meet his eyes, nonetheless continuing down such an intimate path.

“Mhm,” you mutter lowly. “So…is it fixable?”

A heavy shroud of silence falls upon both you and Toji, the unanswered inquiry left to bake. The room’s filled with a flurry of emotions. Relief and comfort may have filled the air, but the dark ruse of embarrassment and worry clawed through to the surface. You don’t have to look at Toji to know that he’s thinking.

He’s deep in thought, trying to comprehend just how to handle your case. Toji wants to offer you the best help he can supply, one that he alone could provide you. His eyes are casted upon you, his pretty patient with the worst of luck.

He’s shocked should the truth be told, shocked to know that someone like you had encountered such devious trouble. Now, he’s left to do is imagine, his thoughts used to help you now sullied by his own twisted imagination.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to see it, you caught up in the heights of lust. To watch your spine take on an ungodly arch, your lips whipped into a quiver, and the hellish cries of plea he’d have to endure. He’s eager to witness it now. It’s written all over him, even apparent in all the mindless movements within the seat. He’s so intrigued by you that he’s forced to grow comfortable, reclining back into his seat.

“Y/N?” Toji calls, a grin laced buried behind his tone.

“Um…yes, Dr. Fushiguro?”

“Come sit.”

Your eyes shift to meet his own, a darkened flair clouding his eyes. At the sound of his very direction, Toji’s thrown into an ecstatic state. His hands rest along the armrest, the pads of his digits rattling a sporadic tune. Your head falls into a gentle tilt, as you begin to comprehend what exactly was asked of you.

“Where…exactly?”

“On my lap of course. Unless you don’t want the issue to be…properly addressed.”

Hesitation runs high within your veins. It’s enough to warn you but not enough to keep you away. The very tip of your black heels dig into the ground as you stand, ruining the groomed pattern of the gray carpet. Every step you take leads you closer and closer to Toji, his aura beckoning you to close the distance.

He’s desperately failing at hiding his excitement, the corners of his lips fighting back a smile. It’s not until the curve of your ass settles atop his thigh that he can breathe that much easier, the florals of your mint dress melding well along the black pant leg.

“Good,” he hums, placing his hand to ghost along your waist. Toji’s compelled to face the consequences, his body overrun by his own whims and desires. He’s longed to have you this close, your temple of a body finally in his grasp. He simply has to take you, to admire every inch of you while time is on his side.

“Now, y’know I wanna help you, Y/N, right?”

“Right.”

“And if I’m going to help you, you have to tell me everything. All you’ve tried, what you haven’t tried—all of it. I promise that by the end of this session…you’ll be all cleared of such a pesky problem.”

Toji’s hands inch to capture your waist, brushing past the soft fabric. Anticipation nips at his being, teasing Toji’s will until he gives in.

“Can I touch you?…for the sake of t-the diagnosis, that is.”

“Yes,” your body losing all tension in Toji’s hold.

No delay can be found into his reach, the pads of his thumb inscribing mindless swirls at your lower back, easing your body into his. All it takes is a gentle tug to seal both your fates, your back resting along the hull of his chest. In Toji’s eyes, you’re so just beautiful, so perfect that it melts the cold abyss of his soul.  He’s forsaken with an urge to fulfill, eager to ensure your comfort.

“Alright, let’s start nice and easy. Tell me, does it feel okay? You can tell me to stop at any time.”

You peek back to meet the haze of green in Toji’s eyes. His words roll off in the softest of tones, his touch falling nothing short of soothing. It’s almost shameful how quickly you give into him, your head resting at the curve of his shoulder. His touch is even pulling those shushed purrs right off your chest and into his delirious mind.

“That’s cute, we’re starting to get somewhere. Now I wanna ask…What kind of toys did you use? Nothing too extreme I hope.”

A harsh gulp is forced down your throat. All the heat is pinned on you, the brash embarrassment and amusement melding into a single hellish mix.

“I…I used vibrators, brought a few um.…d-dildos and well.…”

Toji’s lost in the heat of the moment, your words soon falling to white noise. He’s hurt to hear it, how your own body could turn against you. Or at least he should be. But all Toji sees is an opportunity, a chance for him to prove to you just how badly you need a man like him in your life.

All he wants is to help you, relieve all that tension scattered throughout you. So maybe that’s why his touch travels to forbidden places, the palms of his hands creeping up to your chest. He’s daring enough to do it too, sending his digits to softly cup at your tits. The pads of his fingers settle over the bra, using a pulsing squeeze to spur you on all the further

His presence isn’t something to be ignored, nor when the heat of his palms bleeds right through the layers of clothes. You’re all too swift to reciprocate his advances, pushing your chest to fill the expanse of his palms. nudging your shoulders for the dress’ straps to fall.

“Toji?”

“Hm?”

“Can you…y’know…keep doing that, please?”

There's bliss to be worn by Toji, his lips curling to match his amusement. He’s willing to test his luck now by the little whimpers escaping from your pursed lips. Bit by bit his fingers work, tugging at the cups of your bra. It’s a slow practice but he’s only that much closer to the goal—having your tits spill in his hands.

You’re left for putty in his care, anticipation dressing you in a feverish heat. All Toji’s good for is his clever nature, now more than ever. And he knows this very fact all too well. He knows what he can do to you and why he can make you wait like this. The seconds meld into hours the longer he forces your patience, leaving the bra’s wire to trail against your skin.

It isn’t long when a sigh of relief cracks through the air, your tits finally sitting pretty in his palms. He can’t help but admire his efforts—the contrast of lush supple skin, the rousing flush of heat filling out the peaks of your nipples. He’s so engrained to the unfolding scene that he can’t help how his own digits prey on the raw bud with steady pinches.

“Oh, you pretty thing. You like me touching you like this? I’ve barely done anything, though,” his voice breaking the silence. Toji brings a trail of soft pecks from his lips to nip at the velvety crook of your neck, each one dusting across your skin.

“I haven’t played with that cute lil’ clit, or even fucked your pussy full…looks like you’ve got my work cut out fr’ me, don’t you?”

Your teeth sink into the curve of your bottom lip, your thoughts caught in awe by Toji’s words. Here he was, a man doused in intelligence speaking without a care in the world to his patient. He’s so shamelessly vulgar that it’s refreshing, a breath of fresh air if you weren’t so needy.

“You feelin’ okay?” Toji presses as his fingers still find delight teasing your nipples. He’s even found another way of easing you into his care, his hands kneading the plush flesh to par. He knows you’re feeling something, courtesy of all the cute faces and pretty whimpers he’s had the pleasure of enduring. Yet, there’s only so much–and only much he himself can take before bursting.

“It’s okay but I think I think I’ll need something just a bit more…trying, if you understand.”

Toji only wishes you’d never said that, even just the thought was bad enough. He’s been sitting on such a heavy bulge since you walked in, it’s almost hard for him to even think clearly. All the shushed pangs shooting through his pants, the mess of precum he’ll have to face, all the while he has you squirming right over his cock.

He can’t ignore it, a minute longer and he’ll burst from the sprinkles of friction he bears from your shifting hips. Toji has no choice but to scramble through his thoughts now. to find a solution to both growing problems.

“I-I have something we can try…if you’re okay with that, of course?”

All Toji needed to see was your eyes breaking wide, even your lips falling from that tight knit pout to know just how dedicated to the cause you were.    

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   “And what is it?”

“Get on your knees and I’ll show you.”

You were one to oblige if it meant you’d finally be cured. You were swift to part from Toji, pulling away from the hull of his chest to rest onto the plush carpet. Your hands find rest over the curve of your knees as you face him.

You can’t deny it, the heat fizzling deep within your belly. Toji really didn’t have to tell you what he had planned but you knew it’d sound better coming from his sly lips. Why else would be seated on your knees if not to satisfy the growing bulge you’ve been warming for the past half hour?

In truth, the proposed idea was as bizarre as it was thrilling. Your mouth watered at every notion to pass through your brain. You’d finally have a taste of that man, to watch him fall apart at the warmth of your mouth, the swivels of your tongue, and the tight constrict of your throat–why it might just be enough to make you cum at last.

“Now what?” Your head falling into a puzzling tilt.

For his own idea, Toji had no clue where to proceed. Just the sight of you was enough to devastate Toji. You sitting so politely on your knees, peering back up at him with those misty doe eyes beckoning for his trusty aid—it’s almost too much for him to take.

Toji’s run hot with hysterical anticipation for you. His skin’s bleeding with the purest hues of pink, dotting at the highs of his cheeks and ears alike. It’s embarrassing for him to say but all he can do is imagine how pretty your lips would look fitted around his cock, the swollen mounds laced around the fat head with conviction.

To reach whatever sick fantasy he’s planning, however, Toji’s forced to find an answer fit to satisfy you, one that won’t raise suspicions about his true ambitions.

“Uh…well…studies show that some people get highly aroused by giving pleasure. So let’s see how wet you get sucking me off, ’kay?”

The heat of Toji’s palm sinks into your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing along your skin. For now, he’s ditched that hardened stare for a new one. He’s softer now, emerald hues glimmering with a hint of resolve for your cause. It’s a gradual pace but you’re falling into his care by the second.

“I’ll coach you through it all so we—I mean— you can get the best out of it. I’m doing this all for you, after all Sweetheart.”

“Okay…if you think it’s gonna help me…fine. Just…don’t…don’t look at me while I do it.”

All you can do is give Toji a limp nod, granting for you both to finally relax in each other’s presence. Your hands gravitate to the clasp of Toji’s belt, the cold metal buckle rattling apart. A gentle lift of his hips is all it takes for his navy slacks to rest bunched at his ankles, pulling his black briefs in tow.

It’s only natural for your eyes to settle upon the raw sight of his cock. Toji’s big, bigger than just what his aura’s led you to believe. But what are his words, his mannerism when compared to the hefty girth his cock holds. The tanned fat of his length lays along the ridges of Toji’s abs riddled with pudgy veins.

His balls come with a bloat so full that you’re sure just a mere pass of your tongue could pull every drop he has to offer. Though, it’s the tip of his cock that really earns your attention. The fat head wears only the prettiest imbues of pink and crimson, glossed in the spilling tears of precum.

Small hands lace around the thick girth of Toji’s cock, the flourished forked veins thumping in your hold. You let the fat mushroomed tip drift along your lips, the sheer weight sinking into the plush mounds for a kiss. It’s a soft kiss that you give, one that brings your lips to encircle every inch of the fat head. You can’t help but usher him deeper, a gentle suckle introducing Toji to the warmth of your mouth.  

The pink bellhead sits heavy along the curve of your tongue. And suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with everything that relates back to Toji. His scent, taste, and even the heat budding within his cock become all you know.

You draw away for a moment, admiring the thin layer of gloss shrouding the head of his cock. Beneath the pad of your thumb is where your eyes fall flat on the thickest vein to entertain, fat and begging for attention.

The flat of your tongue curls at the vein, painting a wet trail of spit along the heavy underside of his cock. Toji’s the first to break the tense silence, his chest hoisting in a heavy breath. He’s already prepared to cum by your hand. Yet his eyes hinge on the sight of you teasing his cock, that pretty pink tongue innocently licking at his biggest weakness. It takes so much of him to hold back a groan, the poor man resorting to a spill of words instead.

“That’s it, just put your tongue on the underside ‘nd—h-haa…oh fuuck!”

A grin creeps at the corners of your mouth at Toji’s face, fluttering eyes and laxed jaw. He’s piqued your curiosity, leaving you to wonder just how sensitive he is. You’ve barely done anything to him and yet he’s casted into a state of ruin.

You know it’s a crude thought to entertain but that still doesn’t stop your lips from sealing around the head of his cock once more. Inch by inch is how you take Toji into your mouth, your lips keeping a loose cling around his girth. Your mouth combs over the length of his cock gradually, leaving the thick sheens of spit as you take him in one swift motion.

Determination drives you drunk, your throat so eager to squeeze Toji of his worth. Already, his cock sits so homelily in your throat, his throbbing shaft shooting through your senses. It’s an unsettling virtue you carry, fighting the urge to gag and reject him in its entirety. But when you look back up at his drowsy eyes and fond grin, Toji’s bliss is the sole reason you’re still holding strong.

A burst of awe crackles through your mind. You simply have to admire your own achieved goal of being able to take all of Toji’s cock into your mouth. He makes it easy for you too, his encouraging words and all the head pats serving as your motivation.

“Yes, yes, yes,  Right there, Y/N! Just a little bit more, get it all in your mouth.”

He’s trying his hardest to keep calm but it’s all so dizzying to him. You just feel so good around him, taking him like the good girl he knows you are. You’re just so cute, small hands pawing at his inner thighs. It’s taking all of Toji’s strength to keep his thick thighs from smothering you. It’s against your wishes to even blink at you, but Toji has half a mind to ignore the beauty between his very legs.

The onslaught of tremors quaking through Toji’s legs can only stand for one thing—he’s close. From the huffs of his lungs, winces rippling out his throat, and the heavy grip he keeps at the base of your neck, it’s more than even he can handle.

You pay Toji a glance of misty eyes fluttering with white. That evil glance of your eyes rolling back alone was his final straw. The heavy seize of nerves claims every bit of him hostage, leaving Toji to be still in your presence. A word doesn’t have to pass through his lips for you to understand what exactly entrances his heart, mind, and body. Not when a grip like his over the nape of your neck loosens all too quickly.

There’s no exact warning or way to prepare you for the heavy load Toji had for your sweet little throat. But when a squeal is all you can muster out as the thick spurts of white flood the walls of your throat, you knew it better to hold every drop in without delay.

“C’mere,” Toji huffs between breaths, pulling you to fill the expanse of space between his trembling thighs. You’re a mess before him— black patterned tears staining your plump cheeks, swollen lips smeared in a gloss of his precum, even your chin’s doused in a spool of spit that’s dribbled far down past your breasts.

All the mystery and innocence surrounding his favorite client was wiped clean by his very hands. It’s an artwork so rare he’s actually scared to ruin it. But that doesn’t stop Toji’s hands from crowding at your waist, tugging the dress to fall to the ground.

A sliver of Toji’s strength is all he needs to have you pinned beneath him, his hull of a body caging you in. He’s peppering the crook of your neck in kisses all over again, pulling you in with the hazy growl of his voice.

“I’m gonna fuck you ‘til all you can do is cum fr’ me.”

“I dunno, so far you’re the only one that’s had their issue fixed,” you pouted, your arms coming into a fold over your chest. Toji can’t help but chuckle at your reasoned display as he brings his knuckles to graze over the high of your cheeks.

It’s a steep threat he’s made indeed, he knows it. Toji’s made it his goal to see your orgasm through to the very end. That alone drives Toji’s hands to be hard at work, ridding himself of what clothes did occupy his body. The white button-down, the navy blazer of his suit, all tossed about the room without a single care. All that remains in his hand is his tie—his favorite one made of a precious white silk.

With his free hand, Toji pulls your arms from your sides and above your head, his sinister plan laid in plain sight. “Gimme your wrists. Can’t have you moving around when I’m at work.”  His speech almost rivals that of the smooth fabric that comes to drape past your arms, lacing around to build the pretty bow the thin slack settling above your midway wrists.

Toji turns his attention down the course of your body, digits catching at the rim of your panties. There’s an amused grin that illuminates his sharpened features. He’s intrigued by every little detail to be found, thick fingers flicking at the limp bow in honest tease.  He offers your a single glance, chuckling at the pout you wear so perfectly.

“Let’s take these off too, yeah?” Your hips rise to aid Toji, the cotton slipping down your legs and off into the hazy abyss of the office.

Toji’s cock comes to lay between your thighs, slipping right between the plump lips of your pussy. A gasp catches itself in your lungs as the sheer weight of his cock smothers against your clit. A gesture like that can’t afford to go unnoticed, especially under Toji’s keen eye. He has to entice you, to give you a reason to go forward with his senseless idea.

His hips fall into a mimicked pattern of rolls, driving his cock to graze across the hot bud of your clit. He knows it feels good too, to have the heavy length grind against you, the enriched veins plump with blood melding into nothing but white-hot ecstasy. He’ll even go as far as to ensure that the fat head of his cock smears along your clit, pressing the wettest of pecks upon the perked pearl.  

He’d be lying if he said you didn’t arouse him. He’s entranced by all the dumb expression passing over you. Every eye roll, pout, and whimper has him falling over himself. That’s why Toji has to close the distance between you both, his chest buried within the heat of yours. He’s so close that his lips have to purposely brush past your own, a flurry of kisses catching you two in the moment’s heat.  

Toji pulls away at last when he knows you’ve had enough, the flushing cold sweeping over your bare physique. He peers down at the awaiting scene, his eyes greeted by his cock dressed in your spill of honey.

“See, just look at how wet you are. Oh, ‘m gonna fucking love this pussy, aren’t I?”

A final drag of his hips pits the thick head cock of  Toji’s cock to nip at your fluttering hole, His hand snakes between you, bestowing a careless grip over his shaft. He’s swiping at your glossy slit in breathless awe as a single question arises in his mind.

“You can take it?”

“I can take it!” you whimper, giving a frantic nod to match.

“Then fucking take it. It’s all for you.”

Without another word, Toji’s cock sinks to fill you. It’s the intial drive that claims you, strikes of a ripping heat tracing along your walls. He’s only given you the tip and your poor hole already’s sobbing with a delicious burn. Inch by painstaking inch Toji fills you, your pussy finally giving way for more.  

He’s aware he’s asking a lot of you but there really is no other choice but to bully your walls to take him. Yet Toji’s interested in something more heavenly than your enveloping pussy—your teary eyes aimed at the mess unfolding between your legs. An amused hum is all he can get out before his hands slip to brace your arching spine, pulling you up just enough to watch his sinking hips.

“See it? It’s goin’ in nice and slow just for you, pretty girl.”

Why you’re taking Toji well that more half of him been’s sucked in by the cute cries of your pussy. He’s overwhelming you, a sinful fact he has to ignore. He’s already in so deep that to pull out would only be criminal, not when he’s already to the hot gushing smothers of your walls.

If anything, Toji’s distracting his hinging guilt with your face all over again. It’s the pouts, the winces, the breathless gasps that soothe his woes. He wants to know all that’s passing through your mind.

Toji’s hand comes to brace the limp fall of your jaw, breaking yet another moan from your lips.

The room’s growing heat carries you both together. A mere peck that grows for every second shared amongst you two. A shared hunger erupts and that alone always lands you in the timeless scene: drunk off each other and urgent for more.

There’s no sense of competition for the lead, no remnant of aggression, only the purest of intentions to be found. That careful art welcomes along the sticky chimes ringing about, the breathless hums of bliss, and Toji’s pitiful wince of desperation.

Toji’s almost in despair for it, the supple heat that the kiss from you provides. He’s so eager for it that he’ll chase every inch of you, Toji’s lips catching the drifting tides of your lips. He’s following your every nod, your every jolt, everything just to hold that extra second he has with you.

He breaks away just for the moment, still hopelessly searching to ease his doubts. His thumb traces the curve of your bottom lip, coaxing you to fall for his lustful spell. “Don’t be shy, baby. Tell me everything you wanna say. If you don’t, I’ll just hear it later.”

“Y’re so big, Toji! So big, and s’ deep! B-But I love it, m-makes me so good,” you babble aloud helplessly. It’s such a passionate ramble that it sends your pussy aflutter at the very thought, your walls capturing his length in an impassioned squeeze.

“Mhmmm—oh fuck, that’s a good girl!”

“M-Me? I’m a good girl?” Your eyes shooting wide at his words.

“‘Course you’re a good girl—My good girl! Takin’ me so well too.”

And he’s right, who else could handle so much of him other than you?  His hips can reel from your own, pulling the full brute of his cock from the warmth of your pussy. finally sit against your own, the full brute of his cock sitting pretty in your pussy. He’s falling into the charitable realm of the moment. The matched breaths, the heat flushing out his senses, the throbbing pangs that bleed through his cock.

Toji’s hips only graze along your own for moment before he’s sent into retreat. He reels away from your heat with a wince, the fat head being left to plug up your hole. His cock gravitates to fill you, desperate to overwhelm your walls with a splitting stretch. He was kind at first but now those lazy, laggard draws are now spiked with a swift drive.

The rolling tide of Toji’s hips feeds you his cock all too easy. He’s fucking right at it, hitting your sweet spot without a doubt. Bit by bit, he’s hitting deeper than before too, the prodding head sulling your cervix in messy pecks.

Your body tells him all he needs to know. All the gasps, broken moans, even the bucks of your hips give Toji a prideful power high. It’s enough for him to ramble out with his thoughtless notions, calling in just very thing he’s itching to observe.

“Go on ‘nd play with yourself. Lemme see you play with that cute pussy of yours, Sweetheart.”

It’s a struggle, twisting your bonded arms to squeeze between what space Toji allowed. Your lithe fingers fight for a steady brace over the hood of your clit. It’s messy but you can manage painting loose circles over the slicked bud.

All Toji can do is coo at you and poor attempts, clicking his tongue in detest. He’s watching you, how your fingers can’t remain consistent over the puffy button. You’re shamefully lacking the pressure, the gradual teasing speed, all the tools needed to reach a proper orgasm—something he knows too much about.

“No wonder you can’t cum, you need so much lovin’ than that,” Toji surmises with a smear. He feels remorse for you, really. It’s no wonder you couldn’t achieve anything close to an orgasm, you needed more than your body’s led on—all pent up with stress and anxiety, with no real way of release.

It’s because of his newfound pity that the pads of his thumbs break from your inner thigh to your cunt, prying the swollen mounds from their sticky clasp. His mouth purses at the reveal of your pussy, dribbling streams of drool to spill over your clit.

The heat of his thumb strums at your puffy hood, engraving traces of hearts and the bubbly lather of his spit to induce your impending high. He can feel how close you are, how you’re so hesitant to allow yourself something so sinfully deserving.

You have all you need to cum—his cock dragging at your walls in tempered heights, his worked thumbs calling your nerves into a spry rave. Toji’s even willing break his comfort for you, bringing his forehead to rest against your own. His eyes hold in line with yours, reaching to the depth of your very being with one single plea

“It’s okay, just relax. You gotta let it out…fr’ me, please?”

Your lips part to give some answer, but all that’s to come is a cracked sob. All you have left in you is a single roll of Toji’s hips, the dipping tides pulling forth your long-awaited high. Your walls clench him in place, forcing his thighs to catch the weeping salacious tears of your cunt.

Astonishment shatters Toji’s focused composure, his eyes pinned to the sight. At last, he can see it, your pussy sputtering out all the pent-up worries. It’s not until he peers back at you that he sheds such joy from mind, your bewildered expression searching for an explanation.

“I’m so sorry Toji! I-I don’t know what just happened, I just–”

“I don’t care about that!” He interjects with a boyish grin. You can’t help but study the more before you, the sticky thread of black hair stuck to his forehead, the dots of pink drifting across his cheeks. Toji doesn’t bother to pull out from you, his hips sending his cock to sit deeper inside you.

The excitement that breaks across him is contagious, your lips catching a grin similar to his. In celebration of his efforts, Toji can only smother you in kisses, his lips peppered along the highs of your polished cheeks.

“Question is…can you give me another?”

A feverish nod falls from your head, holding a weary smile in tow.

“Good. A pretty pussy like yours was always gonna need me anyways.”

˚ ༘♡₊˚ˑ༄ؘ TAGLIST: @soulcelestia @hellavile @p-antomime @poohbea @s0dium @scholarlogy @luvbladez @beelenciaga @po3ticb3auty @dabilovesme @katsukismelons @ebiharachan @kenmasbimbo @whore4mikey @pixelsanji @yooniluvbot444 @slaughterakira @woahhajime @tojidilfs @pulchritxde @hannas16 @omniuravity @sweeneyblue1 @yukihime-mikeys-girl @kazusugar @jjjangsta @mitsuyasfavorite @10-jiku @missyasma  @a3trogirl @simpliheavenli @chaoticevilbakugo @desiray562 @urfilgoth @lovemegood @luvrdrop @yourmommy52726 @tojibreedingme @widepipepaladiknight @tojishugetiddies @taesd-urag @nekoriots @ladyackerman @ladyackermann @holychocopie @bloobrryktty @dukina @hon3ybee-3 @simpforerenn @23victoria

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#toji fic #toji fushiguro #toji smut #jjk smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #cw sex mention #cw smut #tw sex mention

[kaciidubs]

Stupid in Love

❣ Summary: Perhaps they call it falling in love because you never truly stop falling. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 813 ❣ Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, Hyunjin fell hard for you, genuinely just fluff and love ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Hyunjin is referred to as Hyune, Reader is referred to as My Love, I suggest listening to 'Stupid in Love' by MAX, featuring Yunjin, it's what inspired this whole thing ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Hyunjin was smitten.

Truly, utterly smitten, infatuated, head over heels, down bad, and stupidly, stupidly in love.

Love was a concept that was both foreign and familiar, something he knew he’d felt before but in the same breath, something he had no working experience with - which only seemed to make things worse.

Love wasn’t black and white turning to color, it was his already extensive color palette expanding with new, vibrant hues and shades he hadn’t been able to create on his own.

With you, he felt like he was walking on clouds, dancing in the drizzling rain as the sun shone through the droplets to cast the most beautiful, vibrant rainbow across the blue sky. At the same time, he felt like he was a newborn deer discovering the world on new, wobbly legs, going about everything with an air of curiosity and wonder that had his heart leaping at every turn.

Complex and simple, it made his head spin as he tried to make himself understand the feelings he was experiencing, though the only suitable conclusion he could ever come to was the simple fact that he was in love with you.

You, who giggled when he stumbled over his words while introducing himself.

You, who agreed to go on a date with him a mere three weeks after meeting, on the only condition that you would plan out the date.

You, who he found himself calling his girlfriend within the blink of an eye, and in the next blink you were both two years and a few months deep, and going strong.

You, you, you.

“...and I figured making chocolate covered fruits would be better than attempting to make an entire cake from scratch, even though Felix swore he and Seungmin could bake with their eyes closed - I’ve seen their lives before! There’s no way they’re baking anywhere near my kitchen.”

Hyunjin blinked, his subconscious floating back down to earth as he watched you wander through your kitchen with no clear goal in sight, simply rummaging through cabinets as you spoke.

Truly, he wished he could remember what spurred this conversation - he loved the sound of your voice, and it felt counterintuitive that his wandering mind would distract him from one of his favorite sounds in the world.

However, his disappointment would disappear as fast as it arrived as you turned to him, a dazzling smile holding your lips and dancing in your eyes.

“So, what d’you think we should do for valentine’s this year, Hyune?”

It would be your third Valentine's Day together, and though you both celebrated each other often, the day of love was reserved for grander gestures to keep the social tradition alive.

Pushing himself away from the island counter, he sauntered over to you before wrapping you in his arms, swooping in to steal a feather-light kiss from your lips; pulling back just enough to bask in the sight of your lidded eyes gazing up at him.

“Let’s get married.”

You ducked your head, an astonished laugh bursting past your lips, “You- What?!” Endless giggles shook your shoulders as you looked up at him once more, winding your arms around his shoulders, “Hyunjin, really!”

“Yeah, really.” He pressed, a lovesick smile curving the corners of his lips, “Let’s get married, we can go to Vegas and get it done right then and there.” Of course, he knew his suggestion was mostly in jest, but his sentiments were as true as the sky being blue.

He wanted to marry you, if not now, then sometime down the line - he wanted to be your last love.

Humming as if contemplating his offer, you tilted your head, “How about matching tattoos first? I have a feeling neither one of us would want a Vegas wedding.”

“Oh?” Now it was his turn to tilt his head, a strand of black hair tickling his forehead, “And what type of wedding were you thinking about, my love?”

“I don’t know��”

The tone of your voice was sing-song-ish - facetious, leading, and sugar coated - and he was hanging on with a bated breath.

“I was thinking… Paris?” Your teasing smile threatened to break into a full on grin as his eyes widened a margin, before they narrowed with mirth.

Arms tightening around your waist, his lips found yours in an instant, “Matching tattoos,” he hummed breathlessly, before catching your lips in a slower, deeper kiss, “then matching rings.”

Nodding, your fingers danced in the hair at the nape of his neck as you blinked up at him with adoration, “I definitely wouldn’t mind sharing your last name, Mr. Hwang.”

Hyunjin grazed his nose along yours, reveling in your smell, your touch, you, you, you.

“I’ll give it to you as fast as I can, Mrs. Hwang.”

Hyunjin was smitten.

Truly, utterly smitten, infatuated, head over heels, down bad, and stupidly, stupidly in love with you.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes , @caitlyn98s , @ch4nn13luv , @ihrtlix , @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997 , @maximumkillshot , @y-ur--i , @acker-night , @dreamescapeswriting , @specialstay , @s00buwu , @tinyelfperson , @jj-stay , @katsukis1wife , @inlovewithmusician , @keen-li , @armystay89 , @main-character0 , @vampcharxter , @ddyskz , @prettymiye0n , @bbgnyx , @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz , @milknhoneyracha , @hann1bee , @palindrome969 , @newhope8 , @softkissfelix , @luvyev , @luminouskalopsia , @kpopsstuffs , @luvyev , @starquokka , @wolfs-howling , @laylasbunbunny , @zaethefangirl, @broken-glowsticks, @j-onedrabbles, @dawninnie, @dwaekkistar, @junglyric, @piercedddriver, @sometimesleeknows,

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#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader

[tenjito]

the tide is high, but i'm holding on. || miyawaki sakura

pairing: miyawaki sakura x female reader contents: exes to lovers, forced proximity technically, chaewon's so done, y/nkura are eunchae's divorced parents, swearing, jealousy, kissing description: you and sakura broke up right before iz*one officially disbanded. coincidentally, the both of you ended up debuting in the same group again.

it's moments like these where you start to question your entire existence as a whole, because who the fuck decided to put you and your ex-girlfriend in the same group?

okay, sure, no one actually knew that the two of you dated (aside from the other members of iz*one), so it makes sense that hybe didn't know the possible consequences of it all.

you and sakura broke up a week before your iz*one contracts ended. the two of you were having another argument—which had been happening quite frequently for the past few weeks—in the car while you drove to meet the rest of the members for dinner.

"sakura, i don't get why you're so pissed off at me! it's not my fault we barely get to spend time together!" you yelled, eyes on the road as you gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"well then, whose fault is it, y/n? it certainly isn't mine since i'm not the one who has on cancel on you everytime we make any plans together!" your girlfriend shouted from the passengers seat, running her fingers through her hair in fraustration.

"ugh sakura, let it go! i told you already, i've been busy." you stated, feeling like a broken record repeating yourself for the hundredth time. "besides, every time we are together, we just end up fighting like always!" you admitted, and maybe it was a harsh thing to say, but it was true.

but nothing could've prepared you for sakura's next words.

"maybe we should just break up then." her voice was low, almost like a whisper compared to the shouting and yelling from a few seconds ago, and her lip quivered ever so slightly as you stopped at a red light.

your heart sank. you couldn't have possibly heard her correctly... right? that question was soon answered as you turned to face the woman beside you, and the tears in her eyes only meant one thing.

you couldn't say anything. you didn't know what to say. you only stare in disbelief at sakura, who faced the window, avoiding any eye contact with you. before you could utter a response, a beep was heard from the car behind you and the light was green.

your hands were no longer firmly gripping the steering wheel. instead, they were shaking as you drove and you bit down on your lip to try focus your thoughts on the road rather than on sakura's previous words.

"pullover. i'm getting off." she suddenly spoke up.

"what? you can't just—"

"i can do whatever i want, y/n. you're not my girlfriend anymore." sakura's voice noticeably cracked while she said the last sentence, and a sharp, sickly sensation cut through your heart when you heard it.

you pulled over. she got out. no words. no goodbye. no see you later. no nothing. just the sound of the car door slamming and the empty silence that followed.

sad driving was dangerous, but just-broke-up-with-your-girlfriend sad was a lot worse. luckily enough, despite the crying throughout the whole drive, you made it to the restaurant without any accidents.

"where's sakura?" chaeyeon asked after you greeted the group, and your attempts of hiding your swollen eyes and dried up tears from your members earlier were useless, because you ended up crying to them about the whole situation.

in conclusion, that night was full of drinking, crying, comforting and more crying, but no matter how much alcohol you consumed, nothing would change the fact that sakura was gone.

seemingly enough, you learned to forget and move on from the heartbreak (or at least that's what you convinced yourself), and never spoke to sakura ever since that day.

that was until: le sserafim.

this new group was a blessing and a curse for the both of you, but mostly a curse.

it was undoubtedly awkward at the start, and there was evident tension between the two of you.

the rest of the members, apart from chaewon, were completely confused about this. all three of you were in the same group, so why was it that you and sakura seemed to hate each other? eunchae, who was probably the biggest iz*one fan there, was especially confused.

she remembered the two of you being inseparable during iz*one days. 'y/nkura' was probably the biggest ship among fans (she shipped it too), so what the hell happened?

kim chaewon knew the answer to that question since she was the only one who knew about your past relationship, and she also knew that two exes being in the same group as each other was indeed, a very bad idea. especially if it was you and sakura.

but being your leader and longtime friend, chaewon practically forced the both of you to at least try to get along.

turns out, it wasn't that bad.

"y/n, could you pass me a knife?" sakura asks, taking out a few vegetables from the fridge and laying them on the table. you perk up from your seat and switch off your phone.

"not even a 'please'?" you tease, walking over to the cutlery drawer and retrieving a knife. sakura rolls her eyes as you handed her the knife.

"please and thank you," she says before placing a carrot onto the chopping board.

you took this as an opportunity to steal a piece of meat that she'd been cooking from the sizzling pan. sakura was basically the chef of the house, always cooking for the other members. you'll never admit it, but her cooking was your absolute favourite.

"y/n!" sakura shouts, grabbing your arm before you could reach the food. she gives you a stern look and you let out a groan.

"but i'm hungryyy," you drag, dramatically pouting at the older. she lets go off your arm and smiles.

your heart flutters and your face heats up. i forgot how pretty her smile was...

"just wait, i'm almost done." sakura says, but you don't move. you just watch.

you watch the way strands of her hair fall past her face, and the way she gently tucks them back behind her ear afterwards. you watch her glued eyes that are so focused on what she's doing, and you find it adorable.

wait. no you don't. you can't. she's your ex, you idiot—

"i can feel you staring at me." sakura speaks, snapping you out of your trance.

your ears burn in embarrassment. "uh," quick, make up an excuse! "it's 'cause you're cutting it wrong, dummy. i'll show you how it's done."

you let out a breath before taking the knife from sakura and moving closer. the older just waits in anticipation, arms folded with a rather judging look.

despite the incredibly cocky expression on your face, you've never actually used a kitchen knife before, let alone cooked anything in your life. maybe this isn't the best idea, you think, and you hesitantly turn to face sakura.

"go on,"

the chastising tone in her voice irks you. just cut the damn carrot, y/n. and so you did. the knife is sharp and it goes through the carrot a lot smoother than you had initially expected.

"you're cutting it the same way. what's the difference?" sakura says wearily, and she's so close to your ear that you almost jump.

"sh-shut up, just wait!" you complain, more nervous about the fact that your ex was inches away from your face and sakura holds her hands up in defence.

"okay, okay..!"

you're a lot less confident now. you feel sakura's breaths on your nape as she's peering over your shoulder, and you don't what or how it happens, but the knife slips in your hands and you feel a sharp sting on your finger.

"shit—" you hiss, abruptly dropping the knife on the chopping board.

out of pure impulse, sakura instinctively takes a tissue from the kitchen table and grabs your hand, carefully wiping the blood off your finger. she opens the supply drawer next to you and takes out a small bandaid before wrapping it around the cut. you wince at the action, but sakura tells you to stay still and you do.

once the bandaid is on and sakura lets go off your hand, the both of you realize what the the actual fuck just happened. sakura's eyes leave yours first and she clears her throat.

"are you, uhm...are you okay?" she asks awkwardly, and you quietly nod.

neither of you even dare to face the other. it stays silent, the tension in the room threatening to crush you with its unbearable weight. the silence is thankfully broken by the sound of the door opening.

"unnie! is the food ready yet?" eunchae asks, walking into the room. sakura informs her just two more minutes and she's done. you go back to your seat, and you and sakura don't talk to each other for the rest of the day.

it's been a week since the incident, and you and your ex have been ignoring each other as much as possible. the only times you would interact was when you were forced to during practices or livestreams. of course, the first person to notice the avoidance is your leader, and she was very annoyed to say the least.

"i thought you two promised you were going to get along? you were fine last week, what happened?" chaewon is sat across from you and sakura, looking like she was about to murder the both of you.

you huff, rolling your eyes. chaewon sighs and turns her head to face sakura, knowing that you weren't willing to answer the question she had just asked.

"chae, it's hard, okay? we didn't really...end on the best terms, so it's too weird to just start speaking normally to each other as if nothing happened." the japanese woman says, grimacing at the memory of the break up.

does she regret it? yeah. every waking moment she regrets it. does she still have feelings for you? maybe. she isn't entirely sure anymore. can she undo what happened between you and her? unfortunately, no. she wants to, but she can't, and it's all her fault.

"i know, i understand that but," chaewon pinches the bridge of her nose and squints hard before continuing. "we're a team now. both of you have to stop hating each other so much, even if you're exes. you need to do it for the rest of the group, and for the fans."

you hate to admit it but your leader was right. the other girls and the fans don't know about you and sakura's past, so you have to suck it up and pretend like nothing happened, like you aren't still heartbroken.

you have to pretend like you were never in love with miyawaki sakura.

the words "i love you" were never actually exchanged by you or sakura during your relationship. it was felt, but never said. and honestly, you were quite grateful for that fact. otherwise, the break up would've hurt more than it already did. you knew that well.

"okay," you say hesitantly, looking at your leader and then to the eldest. "we'll...try."

and for the next few weeks, try you did.

it was going well so far. you and sakura eventually moved passed the awkward exes stage and into the friendly exes stage, a major improvement from the month before. the only thing you had to do now was keep it up.

your group was currently promoting your latest comeback 'antifragile'. after performing the song for music bank, your group was getting ready to leave. yunjin had to go to the restroom, so the rest of you just waited in the hall until she came back.

"y/n?" a voice calls, and you immediately turn to see who it is.

"miyeon, hey!" you say enthusiastically. the (g)i-dle member pulled you into a tight embrace and you smiled as you pulled away. "it's been so long!"

"i know! i've missed you so much,"

miyeon had been a close friend of yours ever since she was a trainee and you were in produce 48. the two of you have always stayed in contact but rarely got to meet up outside of work, so the both of you took this as an opportunity to catch up.

you were too occupied with miyeon to notice yunjin come back from the restroom, and you most definitely didn't notice the glares sakura was sending your friend as you spoke to her.

"y/n, we have to go." chaewon then speaks up, tapping you on the shoulder. you nod and say goodbye to miyeon, noticing her group calling for her too. your group made their way out, and the girls started chatting.

"i'm so tired. i just wanna go to bed," eunchae says, and kazuha nods in agreement.

yunjin gasps, "you're tired? i'm so hungry i can't even think about sleep." she admits, and they laugh.

"i agree," you say, then turn to the eldest who had been oddly quiet the whole time. "i say chef sakura should cook us her special ramen." you chaffed, but the older didn't seem too pleased.

"why should i make it? you can cook it yourself if you're so hungry." the tone in sakura's voice was aggressive, and everyone could tell something was upsetting her.

well, everyone except you, because it doesn't surprise you whenever your ex acts like this towards you.

"because it's always better when you make it."

sakura can't hide the light blush that settles on her cheeks and trickles down her neck at your words. god why was she feeling like this? she ignores the way her heartbeat was now ten times faster than before and rolls her eyes.

"it'll taste the same if you make it." she says, entering the car before you could give a response.

"what's up with her?" you mutter under your breath as you follow the others into the vehicle.

you couldn't help but notice that the car ride home was weirder than it should've been. eunchae and kazuha had fallen fast asleep at the back of the car, so obviously it was a lot quieter than usual. but there was something else.

someone else.

everyone had gone to bed by now, but as always, you were still awake. you had left you and kazuha's shared room to make some tea since sleeping wasn't something you were planning on doing anytime soon.

you lean against the kitchen counter, mindlessly staring at the kettle boiling the water, waiting patiently for its whistle to calm.

"you're still up? it's late." a voice interrupts your empty thoughts, and you look up to see who had just spoken, a little startled since you had assumed no one else was awake at this time.

"sakura." you watch as the japanese woman walks over to stand next to you, rubbing her eyes slightly, noticeably tired from the exhausting day. "why aren't you sleeping?"

there's a brief silence before she speaks up, and when she does, her voice is barely above a whisper.

"i'm sorry."

you stare at sakura, confused. "what?"

she sighs, "i-..i'm sorry about today. i shouldn't have been such an asshole to you, i was just—" she pauses, and you can tell straight away that there's something on her mind.

"what's wrong, kkura-chan?"

sakura's breath hitches, and her heart is telling her several things she can't ignore.

kkura-chan.

she hasn't heard you call her that in forever. it was her favourite nickname you'd call her when the two of you were dating, and fuck did she miss the sound of it. she had always felt comforted and safe whenever you used to use it, so maybe that's why she was able to tell you the truth. the full truth.

"i was jealous," she starts, head down as she anxiously tensed her shoulders. "i was jealous of miyeon when the two of you were talking earlier and i felt...angry. not at you, or miyeon, but at myself. and i know, i know, i have no right to feel jealous of it because you're not mine anymore and you've moved on, so i should too but i can't because it fucking hurts—"

"kkura."

"—and i'm saying this now because i don't know how much longer i can go without telling you that i still have feelings for you, and i regret ever breaking up with you every day of my—"

"sakura!" your shout stops her from continuing her rant, and she only looks up at you with an apologetic expression. she doesn't dare say anything more, and just waits for you to yell at her, or tell her that she's a shit person, or ask her to leave.

but no. instead, she's met with something nothing could've prepared her for.

your lips were on hers.

you kissed her, and she immediately kissed back. you were the first to pull away, though the kiss was only short, and sakura could only wonder one thing. why? and as if you could read her mind, you told her exactly why.

"i love you, kkura. and honestly?..i don't think i ever stopped. i was never able to move on from you, even if i knew i had to...i just couldn't. no matter what i did to try and forget, i couldn't help but miss every part of you. i missed your voice, i missed your smile, i missed the way you laughed and the way you made me laugh. i just missed you. and when you left, i knew i wouldn't be the same, because i'm nothing without you, sakura."

she's staring at you in absolute shock, and you're staring back with a hinge of fear, but there's something so soothing about the soft smile that ever so slowly forms on her face.

"i love you too, y/n. i always have."

and then, this time, it's sakura who closes the distance.

neither of you waste any time, really. sakura's hands make their way to your hair and yours are on her hips.

sakura seems more sure of herself in the harsh light of the kitchen than she's ever been, her hands firm, and seeming to know exactly what she wants.

she presses forward, pushing you back into the counter as your lips move together, hands smoothing over the fabric of your shirt, down down, and then under, and then up, and when you feel sakura's long fingers stroking the skin right under your ribs, you hum against her mouth.

there is a lot happening all at once, hands and mouths and bodies, and sakura bites gently against your lower lip like she knows what she’s doing, and that's because she does. she always does.

you breathe in all of her, and her scent is one you've grown to miss. sakura sighs against you, fingers scratching at the base of your neck while your hand slides up to slip into her shirt from below, tracing over her warm skin.

sakura makes a sound, a small, ragged sound, and you can hear it so clearly in the silence of the empty room. her teeth bite down a little more harshly when you grab firmly and you make a small, ragged sound of your own.

you slide your leg between sakura's, pull her even closer, drink in her surprised noise with a grin before carefully, carefully, coaxing sakura's mouth open.

she tastes like the strawberry lip balm she used to always use so long ago, and you can't help but smile against her lips, because it’s sakura, your sakura, whom you realise hasn't changed at all.

and then she whines, just when you thought that small, ragged sound was the best sound you'd ever hear, and it’s almost involuntary, the way you drag sakura's hips closer. her hands press more firmly against your ribs, slip forward to press against the indents of your abs, slip down, fingers dipping under the waistband of your jeans.

the door opens and there's a very obvious echo of someone clearing their throat as you and sakura rush to pull apart.

"this is not what i meant when i said 'try to get along',"

sakura shyly buries her head into the crook of your neck to hide her flushed face as she holds in a laugh.

"are you mad?" you ask chaewon.

your leader shakes her head. "no. quite relieved, actually." but her face doesn't change from the scolding look she wore initially. "but that doesn't mean i'm letting you two continue your make out session. i need sleep, and i'd rather not hear any more sounds coming from either of you. goodnight."

chaewon leaves, and you and sakura burst out into laughter.

"i missed you, kkura-chan."

she smiles.

"i missed you too, y/nnie."

#miyawaki sakura #miyawaki sakura x reader #le sserafim #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim imagines #kpop x reader #sakura #sakura x reader #kpop #kpop gg #le sserafim scenarios #let chaewon sleep #tenjito

[love-and-monsters]

The Fallen Angel

GN human X nonbinary angel (uses they/its pronouns), 15,020 words.

(Apologies for how long I've been away, a lot has been happening. But here is the story at long last! At very long last. I have written, unfortunately, a fucking novella. Please let me know what you think, I put my heart into this bitch.)

There is an angel trapped in the basement of the church. You are determined to free it.

There was an angel trapped in the basement of the church. You could hear it singing when you cleaned the great brass candles and the stained glass windows. It sang during the services, too, but the song just reverberated behind the choir or the preaching, too subtle to be truly noticed. It was only in the afternoons, when the sunlight sent a colored glow across the floor and your body sweated and shook with fatigue, that the song grew strong enough for you to really hear what it was.

Angel song is not like birdsong, nor it is it like the song of a person. It is almost like the sound of a choir, if the choir was like a pipe organ or the wind passing through a cave. The noise settled in your bones and lungs. Sometimes, you felt yourself humming along, like just the presence of the sound was forcing the notes from your body.

You cleaned the church every three days, more or less- you didn’t clean at all on Sundays, but you did attend. So did the rest of the town. Had it gotten more crowded since the song started? Maybe- the church’s attendance was already high, and the faith strong. The angel would not have come otherwise.

You knew that the angel was trapped. You weren’t a fool- the basement door was chained and sealed, and the singing was louder the closer you get. No free angel would suffer being locked away like this. And then there was its singing. Usually, it just made your bone tremble and compelled you to sing along with it. On Sundays, its song amplified the worship, making your brain tingle with the divine. But sometimes, more frequently these days, the song struck you with such profound sadness, that you found yourself on your knees, face wet with tears.

It was over a month of the singing and the knowledge that something divine rested beneath your feet before you considered doing something about it.

In fairness: you were not qualified to interact with an angel, much less rescue one. You were not a priest, not a spiritual practitioner. A priest was technically your boss, though you cleaned more buildings in town than the church. If he had trapped the angel, there must be a reason.

But the angel’s song grew more sorrowed and more desperate, until you woke at night, nowhere near the angel’s song, with a hum vibrating in your chest and tears on your cheeks. And you came to the conclusion that, no matter what reason the priest has, the angel did not deserve this.

So you called a spiritual practitioner. As much as you may have wanted to help, you had no idea how. Better to leave such things to professionals.

You had hoped the practitioner would arrive at the church, sense the angel immediately, and free them. But there wass no fuss from the church, and no angel emerged. The practitioner left town before the sun set that day.

Three more practitioners and a priest entered the town over the next two weeks. None of them freed the angel. Your bewilderment grew with each failure. Were they not noticing it? Were they being turned away? Bribed?

The sixth person, a priest, was the one you followed. You tailed him to the church, and continued following him twenty minutes later, when he emerged. Once he had made it past the edges of the town, you ambushed him.

It wasn’t much of an ambush, really. You just stepped out onto the path in front of him and demanded he tell you what was going on. He was clearly weirded out, but once you said that you were the person who called him, he was a bit more willing to talk.

You asked him why he didn’t do anything to free the angel. He stareed at you, eyes wide. Then he spoke, quiet and almost frightened. “What that thing is should not be freed. It is best for everyone if it stays down there.”

Once he told you that, he dismissed himself, and hurried away. You stared after him. Then you returned home.

The creature in the basement could not be anything but an angel. It could have been one of the infernal, but the infernal don’t sing. Scream and howl and beg, but they do not sing. And no infernal creature would sit through the services that come every Sunday. People would avoid the church, rather than flocking to it in droves. And yet, if the priest had seen an angel, you found it hard to believe he wouldn’t have tried to release it. He certainly wouldn’t have told you it was a thing.

The next time you went to the church, the singing was low and tremulous. It reminded you of someone trying to sing through tears. Again and again, you found yourself at the basement door. When you placed your hand on it, the dark metal was warm, like it had been resting under a sunbeam.

You could not bring yourself to leave, even an hour after your work was done. The sadness of the song radiated around you and ever since you spoke to the priest, you were terribly curious. Perhaps that was a cruel thing, to be just as compelled by curiosity as compassion. But you were. If it had been just compassion, maybe you could have stood aside and let someone else do it. But it was curiosity as well, and you needed to do it yourself because you needed to know.

While you had access to most of the keys in your line of work, you didn’t have access to the ones that unlocked the chains and the door. Even after some snooping, you couldn’t find them, so you resorted to attempting to pick the locks. It was something you learned in your youth, mostly since you could never keep track of your house keys. The padlock was easy enough to undo. The door took more time, but still under five minutes.

The door itself was more of a barrier than the locks were. It was heavy enough that you wondered if it was even designed for only one person to open. But with enough effort, you managed to open it enough for you to squeeze through.

It wasn’t dark. Or, rather, it was dark, but it wasn’t as dark as it should have been. There were no windows in the basement and you had no light, so you shouldn’t have been able to see anything. Certainly not the gentle glow of what looked like sunlight at the bottom of the cool stone steps in front of you.

It wasn’t cold, either, you reflected as you headed down the steps. It should have been, if not dank, at least a little chilly. But the light was as warm as a sunbeam. You headed toward it, keeping your steps as light as possible. Surely whatever was down here had heard the door open and knew someone was approaching, but you tried to keep as quiet as possible regardless. It made you feel better.

The stairs ended at a doorway that opened into a room. It was clearly intended for storage of some kind, as most basements are. And it was still storing something. Because most of the room was occupied by a-

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? What was that? Your first instinct was person, but people are not usually so large that, even on their knees, they cannot straighten their back without hitting their head on the ceiling. Their body filled most of the room. You could sit in their hand. And, of course, they were the source of the light. You couldn’t look at their center, since it was so bright as to be blinding, but even their extremities glowed like lamps. You had to tilt you head back to look into their face and you saw… nothing. Their head was human-shaped, but they had no hair, no face. It was almost frightening, the blankness there, but your attention was drawn to something else only a moment later.

Angels have halos. This one was no exception. A golden ring, elaborate in design, hovered behind their head. But it was not a simple, clean circle. It was broken. The metal was (or something that looked like metal) twisted and splintered and dented. The entire thing was rent apart, golden liquid spilling from the broken bits. It looked like something grabbed it and twisted until the halo split.

The song radiated through you then. And, for the first time, it occurred to you that this was not song. It just sounded like it. The angel was crying.

Everyone heard tales of fallen angels. Cast out for crimes or sin, sent to Earth. Crying to return. They were creatures to fear. An angel is dangerous. An angel that has been sent away and maddened with grief and loss is only more so.

You moved toward them, trying to see where they were chained to the wall. Your body moved almost on its own, and you wondered if the song was somehow compelling you to do so. It didn’t matter, though. You’d be doing this anyway.

There weren’t chains holding it in place. That was actually a relief. They would have been huge and you weren’t sure how to handle chains you couldn’t move. Instead, the angel seemed to be held in place by writings across the ground, walls, and ceiling. From a distance, they looked like just worn stone, but up close, you could see the writing. It took you some time to figure out what they were. Bible verses, in Latin and English. They seemed completely random. You assumed they were holding the angel here, since you couldn’t find anything else that seemed to be doing so. But this wass all over your head. Presumably there was a way to undo this, but you didn’t know what. It would be weeks of work to destroy all the writing here.

After taking some time to despair and scream in frustration, you went over to a wall and, by the light of the angel, started to read. It was a bit difficult, since there was no way to read without the angel being behind you, and your shadow appearing on the wall, but if you angled your head, you could make out the words.

Some of the verses were familiar to you. A few of them were about angels. Some of them were about God’s power or smiting the unjust. Some of them seemed completely unrelated. Maybe there was a reason that you just weren’t getting. But as you continued, you noted a pattern. They repeated.

It was a hard repeat to catch- there wasn’t a set pattern where it was the same order every repeat. But after going back and forth and squinting in the low light for long enough that you developed quite the headache, you found that the phrases were repeating. Every verse was repeated once per repeated section. A vague idea came to your head. It wasn’t a plan you were sure would work, but it was the only idea you had.

You slipped back upstairs and rummaged in the tool closet. Normally, you only bothered with the cleaning supplies, but there were hammers and nails there, for general repairs. You took a hammer and a screwdriver and brought them back down to the basement.

At the beginning of each repeat, you took the screwdriver and, using it as almost a makeshift chisel, hammered it into the wall until the rock chipped away. The words weren’t carved very deeply, so it wasn’t terribly hard to flake them off. Well, it wasn’t hard relatively speaking. It was still hard work to chisel anything at all, and your arms were trembling and aching in short order.

It was slow going. Fortunately, the repeats were long, so you didn’t need to chisel all that often, but it was hard to find the proper start, and there was a lot of small writing. Your back ached from stooping to get the stuff on the floor.

You had the inclination that you were doing something right, though. The angel had nearly ignored you before, as you’d walked around its cage. But now, as you chiseled at the walks, it turned its head toward you, face still blank, though you could tell it was watching. Maybe it was just curious, but you thought maybe it could sense something changing.

About midway through your second wall, the air started to take on a different… feel. Like it was getting thicker, almost humid, with a smell like before a storm. You took more breaks, almost dropping your hammer and chisel a few times. Your fingers weakened. You started smashing randomly with the hammer, though it didn’t seem to have a great effect. The angel watched, or did something similar, with its massive, blank face.

By the third wall, the feeling was suffocating. Whether it was from the unbinding of the angel itself, or the bindings themselves trying to fight back, it was impossible to say. You just staggered from one repeat to the next, barely able to stand. How were you going to get the writing on the ceiling? You couldn’t risk stopping and returning, in case someone discovered your work the next day, but you also could not risk getting up on a ladder- not when it felt like the floor was shifting and bucking under your feet.

Please, you thought as you brought your hammer down onto your makeshift chisel. Please be enough. Please be the last. You weren’t sure who you were begging to, pleading to, but as you brought your hammer down one last time-

Light. There was light and then there was nothing. You were on your back on the ground, though it didn’t hurt. Which was strange. If you’d fallen over, you expected your head to hurt where it had hit the ground. You blinked a couple times. The room was less bright than it had been. There were a few scraps of light that seemed to be drifting about like floating candle flames, but they were fading and taking the light with them.

You rolled over and looked toward the angel. It was no longer there. Or, to be more specific, the enormous, glowing, faceless creature was gone. Sitting in the center of the room, blinking in apparent confusion was… a person.

No, the person was the angel. You were sure of it, since the person had wings. Large, powerful-looking wings with scruffy brown feathers. Little wings of a lighter color were set where their ears should be. But they also did not look like the images of angels you’d seen in books or in stained glass. Those angels were always inhuman looking, with perfect, sculpted bodies and porcelain skin. This angel was a little pudgy, with little pockmarks and imperfections in its skin. Its feathers were ruffled and sticking out, and its long hair was ruffled. It blinked at you with drooping, tired-looking eyes.

“Ah…” Looking at the angel, you realized you hadn’t paused to come up with an exit plan for once the angel was free. You’d been more focused on just breaking the cage. There had been some vague idea in the back of your head, of the angel realizing it was free and busting its way out of the church through the ceiling. Though perhaps it was good that hadn’t ended up happening, since that would probably leave you crushed by rubble. You certainly hadn’t expected the angel to suddenly poof down into a nearly human form.

They seemed confused. They swayed in place, staring around the room like they’d never seen it before. Or, never seen it from that angle before, at least. They shifted their wings a couple times, stretching them out only the tiniest amount before trying to get to their feet. Despite looking rather unsteady, they stood with only a little stumbling and stayed on their feet. They glanced around the room one more time, then looked back at you.

They were tall. Bigger than most people you’d seen. And their wings only added to their bulk. They would have cut an intimidating figure, if it wasn’t for the out-of-it look on their face.

This was a new problem. You’d figured the angel would be out of your hair once you freed it. But this angel looked rather helpless. You got the impression that, if you left it there, it would stand there until the priests came back in the morning and locked it away again. Or killed it. It looked more killable in this form.

Leaving it was considered and discarded. It probably wasn’t a good idea to leave them here if they could remember your face and maybe reveal your identity if asked. And even if they couldn’t, you’d already put so much effort into freeing them. It seemed like a waste to ditch them at the last moment.

Not to mention, the idea of leaving them standing there, shivering slightly in the chill of the basement and blinking at you with confused, doe-like eyes made your chest ache.

You approached the angel. It locked its eyes on you, watching as you came closer. Not necessarily cautious- more like curious as to what you were going to do next. You reached out a cautious hand and took the angel’s.

They jolted, sucking in a breath the second your fingers came in contact. You froze. All of their feathers bristled and they seemed to shudder. For a moment, you thought you could faintly hear their song, but it faded so quickly that it may have been your imagination.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, the same tone you used to coax the church cats out of hiding places. “We need to go, though.” You tugged on their arm. Despite their size, they moved easily. You lead them up the stairs and into the church proper.

They followed you to the back door of the church. It was late, and the place was deserted, which was a relief. The angel was both winged and very naked, which would be hard to explain to anyone.

Getting them to your house was tense. The angel was conspicuous, so you had to avoid areas with people. Fortunately, it was late, so the cover of night and the lack of people on the street was enormously helpful. The angel was also quite easy to tug along, despite their size. You made it to the backdoor of your home with no real struggle, though you came very close to shoving the angel into a bush when a person stumbled across your path in your neighborhood. To your relief, they were very drunk and they seemed to barely notice your presence.

The moment you were within your house, you collapsed. The angel shuffled next to you, flexing their wings and glancing around. They didn’t seem anything more than mildly interested in their surroundings. After a moment, they sat down next to you.

You could have stayed on the ground all night, but after thirty minutes, you decided that it probably wasn’t good to your guest to let them stay on the ground all night. It was late and you could decide what to do with them in the morning, but now, you were both going to get some rest.

“Come on,” you grumbled, tugging at their arm. The angel allowed itself to be led into your small bedroom, where you encountered your first problem. The bed was not sized for an angel. Again, it was a normal bed. Not an unusually small one. But the angel was, at minimum, six and a half feet tall and carrying a set of bulky wings. Perhaps, if you shuffled some furniture around, you could have made it work, but it was very late and you were very tired. So you tugged all the bedsheets you had into the room and dumped them on the floor. The angel watched you the entire time, completely impassive.

Once you were done, you had to drag the angel over and push them into the makeshift bed. They blinked up at you from the pile. “Lie down,” you said, pushing on their shoulders. They allowed it, bowing under your touch with as much compliance as ever. “Go to sleep.”

You didn’t wait to see if they followed that order. Instead, you stumbled to your own bed, tugged the blanket you had over yourself, and closed your eyes.

Morning came entirely too early. Even when you were bone tired, your body clock woke you up at the same time every day. It couldn’t have been more than a couple hours of sleep, and probably less. You blinked tiredly for like thirty seconds before rolling over and catching sight of the angel.

It was still laying down in the pile of blankets. Its eyes were on you, blinking heavily every so often. You stared back at it. “I suppose you’re going to be here for a while,” you said. The angel just stared.

With little else to do, you got out of bed and headed into the kitchen. Your head ached, probably from lack of sleep, and also stress. It had been easy to not think about the consequences when you were freeing the angel, but now, well. The priest was going to want to know where his angel went, and you had a winged person in your house, as well as being the last person in the church that night. It wouldn’t be hard to put the pieces together.

You got into the kitchen and became aware of a second set of footsteps trailing after yours. You stopped and the footsteps behind you stopped as well. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed it- the angel was following you. They gazed back at you as you stared at them. They were swaying a little on their feet, wings twitching like that helped them stay upright.

“I suppose you want breakfast,” you said. The angel blinked. It was the only acknowledgement they gave you. “Well, I’d be a terrible host if I didn’t feed you, I guess.”

At your instruction (physical instruction- it was easier to move the angel around than it was to try and give them verbal commands) the angel sat down at your tiny table. There wasn’t much room for more than one person, but you could make it work. Breakfast was never a particularly impressive affair for you, but if you had an angel over, you decided to go through the effort of actually heating up some biscuits and cooking some eggs and even a couple thin strips of bacon.

You set the plate in front of the angel. They stared down at the meal. Their gaze wasn’t necessarily dismissive. It just also reminded you of a dog examining a new object. Not a person getting a good meal.

“Do you know how to eat?” you asked after a few moments. If it had just become a mortal, than perhaps it wasn’t sure precisely how eating worked? You demonstrated a few times, slicing a sliver off your egg and placing it in your mouth before chewing with exaggerated deliberateness. The angel took it in, but still made no moves on its own breakfast. “Do you need help?” you asked, a bit irritated. You sawed off a piece of biscuit, dipped it in the egg and speared a little bit of bacon before holding it to the angel’s mouth. It recoiled when the fork nearly touched its lips.

A few more attempts at convincing it to eat were unsuccessful and you backed off, confused. Perhaps the angel didn’t need to eat after all, or wasn’t able. You had no idea what angels needed.

Now that you had eaten, you were starting to feel more ready to tackle the current issues. You had work. Not at the church, thankfully, but you still needed to leave. And as reluctant as you were to leave the angel alone in your house, you couldn’t think of anything else to do. Staying home would be incredibly suspicious. You needed to make it look like everything was normal.

As exhausted as you were, you dragged your clothes on and gathered your supplies. The angel watched you. They were still completely naked, though you were getting used to it at this point. “Are you going to put some clothes on?” you asked. The angel stared. “Never mind.” It wasn’t like it was going to fit in any of your clothes. It was too tall. “I’m going to be leaving for a while. I’ll be back as soon as I can, all right? Stay here. Don’t go outside.” You felt a little bad, telling the angel that had spent the past however long trapped in a single room that it couldn’t go outside, but that was a bad idea. Maybe later, you could bring them outside.

“Stay here,” you said, feeling a little like you were talking to a dog. The angel just stared at you. “I’m trusting you.”             You left your home and took a few paces down the street, glancing over your shoulder all the while. The door didn’t open again, and you kept looking until your house had vanished around a corner, and even a little after that.

To your immense relief, the angel never followed. That didn’t stop you from being jumpy as you cleaned, though. Every time a person approached you, there was a moment of panic, either that someone had found a strange, winged person wandering the street or that the priests at the church were going to drag you in for questioning. But neither ever happened. You managed to finish up early (by cutting a few corners) and hurried home.

The angel was… exactly where you left them. Literally. Exact same spot. Had it even moved all day? It did look a little worse for wear- a little weaker, maybe, with dark patches coming in under its eyes and a definite sway when it tried to sit up straight. As soon as it saw you, it makes an attempt to surge to its feet- and fumbled, nearly landing straight on its face.

“Woah, hey there,” you said as the angel flailed on the ground, wings flapping like a startled duck. “You, uh. You doing all right?”             The angel managed to push itself upright and blinked blearily at you. The swaying was still there, giving the alarming impression that they were a moment from falling again and only just barely preventing themself from doing so.

Perfect. You not only had an angel bunking with you, you had an angel bunking with you and there was something wrong with them. That could only end badly. “Okay, I’m going to need you to work with me here,” you said. The angel was, again, rather compliant as you tugged them into the kitchen and got them to sit at the table. They seemed to be shivering, so… fire in the stove? You grabbed a few blankets and placed them around the angel’s shoulders as well, until the angel was sufficiently covered. The angel’s shivering slowed and it seemed almost perplexed by that development.

“That’s better,” you said. “Are you feeling okay now?”             The angel wobbled a little bit and they blinked at you. They didn’t seem to nod or shake their head at all, or communicate in any way other than staring. Which meant it was hard to figure out what they wanted. Or if they wanted anything at all.

After staring at the angel for a little while longer, just to convince yourself that they weren’t about to keel over, you went to the stove and heated up your dinner. It was just some bread and a very simple chunk of salted meat with a couple of vegetables. The angel watched you, though they still swayed like they were on a ship instead of steady ground.

You returned to the table, carrying your plate, and the angel’s eyes remained locked on you. No, not you, you realized as you got closer. Their gaze was locked on your plate. As you wanted, the angel’s mouth opened, ever so slightly, and a bead of drool actually welled up on their lips. As you set the plate on the table, the angel made a strange noise. You hadn’t been expecting it at all, so it took you a moment to realize it was the angel’s stomach growling.

“Are you hungry?” you asked. The angel stared back at you. After a moment, you pushed the plate of food toward the angel. Their eyes remained on it, but they didn’t make any move to eat. Not even when you took a fork and offered them a bite.

There was a bewildered moment, where you weren’t sure what was going on. Then it clicked in your head: the angel was hungry. They also had no idea what to do with it.

The angel was mortal now. Whatever had happened, when you broke its cage, it had become mortal. But it had never been mortal before. How was it supposed to know anything? How would someone know the pain in your stomach meant hunger if they’d never felt it before? How would they know the heaviness their limbs and strange inability to keep their eyes open would be cured by sleep, or their shivering meant they needed to sit near a fire with blankets?

The angel was a mortal, but it was a very new mortal, and it needed to learn all the other things mortals understood just by being alive.

You scooted closer to the angel and picked up the fork again. This time, you took a bite, making sure the angel watched the food travel into your mouth and you chewing and swallowing. Then, you moved the fork right up to the angel’s lips. “You’re hungry. This will help. You need to eat,” you said, not totally sure if the angel was understanding you. The angel blinked once, twice, then tentatively opened its mouth and allowed you to place the food inside.

The angel, with a sort of bewildered slowness, closed their mouth and chewed. It looked like clumsy chewing, but they picked up on it pretty quickly, their brow furrowed with focus. Then they tried to swallow and instantly choked.

You had a real, legitimate panic about having an angel choke to death at your table for nearly a full twenty seconds before the angel got their breathing under control again. You made them drink water, which went much smoother- maybe you should have started there- and cleaned up. The angel had recovered enough to watch you as you did so, drinking in every motion you made. Maybe it would have been a little creepy, if the angel hadn’t felt so genuinely curious about what you were doing.

When you returned the food to it, the angel ate more carefully, if still with enthusiasm. You’d realized, by that point, that the angel didn’t understand the concept of being too full, so while that would eventually need to be a learning experience, you just took the food away after you’d determined what the angel probably needed. It didn’t protest at all, but let you remove the plate and watched as you collected the scraps that could be composted.

It didn’t protest when you led the angel to bed, either. This time, you just tugged all the bedsheets you had onto the floor and directed the angel’s attention onto you. “We’re going to sleep. You need to sleep. Every night. You sleep like this.” You lay down on the floor, tugged the blankets over yourself, and went still, slowing your breathing. The angel watched until you sat up again. “Now you do it.”

With some very gentle persuasion, you got the angel lying on its side, eyes closed. You watched it until its breathing deepened and its body relaxed. Then you went to sleep yourself.

The angel was still fast asleep when you woke, and you were careful not to disturb it as you made your way to the kitchen. You had a feeling it would turn up and, sure enough, when the smells of cooking made their way down the hall, the angel appeared, a blanket wrapped around it like a cloak.

They ate breakfast, this time not even choking once, and even brought their plate over to the washbasin. “Okay,” you told them once you were done cleaning up. They looked at you, gaze attentive. “We’re going to need to get you some clothes.”

You did not have any clothes in their size, and since you were smaller than they were, you couldn’t just take some of your clothes in. The wings were also a complicating factor. In the end, you didn’t have the time or skills to really make anything elaborate for the angel. With one of your old blankets, you simply created rough arm and neck holes and added darts in the sides to hold the entire thing together. There was no way to create holes for the wings. They were large enough that you just left massive slits down the back to create space. It wasn’t perfect, since the slits left the back rather open, but it was better than nothing. The angel was remarkably still for the whole measuring and pinning and sewing. It took a few hours for the entire process to be over, and you were sore by the end, but the angel had clothes.

It was not long after you’d fully clothed them, when you were lying on your bed to enjoy a rest, that someone knocked on your door.

You jolted, nearly throwing yourself out of bed. The angel startled as well, though they seemed to be more upset by your reaction than the knocking. Cautiously, you crept through the door, grateful that your window allowed you to see the people at your door without needing to open it.

The angel came, warm against your back as they stared out the window after you. The Head Priest stood, dressed in his usual gold-flecked robes and with two guards stationed at either shoulder. You felt the angel shift and bristle behind you turned to look at them.

The angel was staring, unblinking, at the priest and his entourage. Its wings had extended a little, puffed up like the pigeons that littered the town did when they were threatened. But its face… it was the first time you’d ever seen the angel make a real expression of emotion. And it was afraid.

That, more than anything, made your stomach sink.

The knocking came again, louder, harder. The angel slunk back a little. One of its hands was latched onto your wrist and it seemed determined to drag you with it. It actually managed to haul you along for a few steps before you dug your feet in. “I have to answer the door. Go hide.” The angel released your wrist, but it hesitated, wings twitching. “Go. Hide. I will be fine.” The angel flexed its wings once, then turned and headed back to your room. You breathed in and out, then headed toward the door.

As soon as you opened the door, the priest moved into your house. He didn’t shove past you, since he didn’t touch you, but he did force his way in. The guards just roughly shoved you aside, barely recognizing your presence.

“Can I help you, your grace?” you said. It was difficult to keep your voice even. The priest wasn’t a withered old man, but he wasn’t young, and his gaze was as sharp as a shard of glass. He glared around the room, nose twitching. You resisted the irrational thought that he was smelling for something. You licked your lips. “Was my church cleaning not up to your satisfaction?”

The priest’s gaze focused on you. “The cleaning has been fine. However, two days ago, an object of some great importance went missing from the church.”

It was him saying ‘an object’ that saved you. Because you didn’t take an item, you had, technically, stolen a person. But your brain didn’t quite register that he couldn’t just say you’d stolen a person, so when he said ‘an object,’ you took him at face value and your surprise was genuine.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t steal anything.” The priest’s eyes locked onto yours, and you stared back with stupid, genuine bewilderment. There was a flicker across his face, like surprise- maybe he didn’t expect you to look so guileless.

“You won’t mind if we have a look around, then?” the priest said, voice lightly curious. Not even accusing. Genial.

It was a trap. Obviously. Say yes, the priest can poke wherever he wants and look for anything he determined to be incriminating. Say no, that was instantly suspicious, even if you were only doing it for the sake of your privacy. But if you said yes… there was no way he wasn’t going to find the angel in your bedroom.

“Actually, I do mind. Are you accusing me of something?” Acting outraged was your best defense. Not a good defense, just the best one you had. “I don’t appreciate having people rifle through my things just because I happened to be near the church when something was stolen.”

The priest’s eyes narrowed. The guards stiffened. “No accusation, of course. We’re merely… cautious. Surely you can understand why we would want to check out every possible lead. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear, no?”

“I have nothing to fear, but that hardly means I want people meandering into my house at all hours, demanding proof for crimes there is no evidence I committed. Tell me, if I came into your home tomorrow, demanding to look for something you may have stolen while you were in my house, would you be perfectly happy to have me poking through your underwear drawer?” The priest’s face went a strange shade of pink-red, but you barreled on with no pause for his response. “And, to add to that, you haven’t even told me what was stolen! For all I know, you could simply claim any of my items to be the thing I stole and slap me in chains for it!”

The priest was still deadly calm, but there was a clear rage to his voice when he spoke again. “Do you truly think a man of god would do such a thing?”             You lifted your chin in a gesture of audacity. “You call yourself that. But people can call themselves any number of things. And would a true man of god barge into someone’s house and demand to search their things with no evidence of their involvement in any crime?”

The priest’s face was heading toward a shade of puce, but, with effort, his jaw unclenched. “Very well. But I’m certain you’ll understand of we are, as of now, reluctant to have you in the church.”

“Yes, sir.” Losing your job was, really, one of the less-terrible outcomes, and the one you’d expected the most. You had other jobs, though losing the church would be something of a financial loss. Though you also had to consider that you were feeding another mouth, now… That could be a problem.

The priest seemed to take your thoughtful silence as some kind of shameful penitence, because he puffed himself up and nodded. “Take care. We will… see what we can find about the thievery.”

You guided him back to the door. It wasn’t until the door closed and you’d watched him head down the street a good ways before you left out a breath. You made it a few steps down the hall before your entire body demanded that you sit down and tremble for a while.

The priest was gone, for now, but who knew how long until he was back? He didn’t have enough evidence now, but that didn’t guarantee he wouldn’t find some. Or make some up- all he needed was enough to make the local governor force a search of your house, and there was no way you could hide the angel from that. You covered your face with your hands, trying to breathe slowly. If they found you, they could kill you.

Someone slumped down next to you. The angel. It pressed up close to your side, petting at your shoulder like it had heard about being comforting, but it hadn’t ever experienced it. One of its wings draped over you.

There was quiet for a while. The angel touched its head to yours, eyes closed. It was warm, tucked beneath its wing. Calming. You took deep breaths and thought hard.

The only evidence that you’d taken the angel at all was that the angel was there with you. Maybe there was some other evidence at the scene, but the angel was the big problem. The solution was, obviously, to get rid of the angel.

Well, not get rid of it. More like… set it free. They were still an angel, after all. They’d needed some basic training in how to be a person, but certainly they could survive on their own. And, well, it would ease some of the pressure on you, financial and legal.

The angel shifted next to you. You glanced at them. They gave you a once-over, then stood and headed off to your room. A few seconds later, they reemerged, dragging a fair amount of blankets with them. Before you could ask what they were doing, they had already knelt next to you and were shoving the blankets all around you. They bundled you up and carefully lay you on the ground. For your part, you allowed it to happen. The angel seemed to have something they wanted to do.

Once you were wrapped in blankets and lying down, the angel settled next to you. There was a rather proud look on its face and you realized, with a burst of amusement, that it was trying to get you to sleep, as this was more or less what you’d done with the angel to get it to sleep! Did it think you were tired?

The angel shuffled closer, so there was little space between your bodies, and spread a wing over you. The feathers shrouded you in darkness, though there was enough light to just make out the angel’s face. They were as inexpressive as ever, but they seemed to be studying you. When you stared back, with no indication of closing your eyes, they shifted, clearly uncertain what happened next.

“I’m not tired,” you told them. “Though I appreciate the effort.”

They stared at you for a long moment before, with now warning, hopping to their feet and all but running into the kitchen. You took a moment of peace, wrapped in blankets are you were, before following them.

The angel was rummaging through your breadbox. “Are you hungry? What are you doing?” you asked as you approached. The angel thrust a slice of bread at you. “Er. Thank… you?” The angel waited, watching you. It seemed to be expecting you to eat. Just to appease it, you did so. As soon as you started eating, the angel went back to rummaging through your food supplies. It offered you several pieces of dried fruit next, then a couple of strips of jerky. You took them all, though you stopped eating after the first couple of pieces. Once the angel noticed you weren’t eating, they paused and stared.

“Thank you,” you said, a bit bewildered by what was happening. “Are you okay? I don’t really need anything. Is there a reason you’re giving it to me?”

The angel stared at you. Their brows creased ever so slightly- maybe they were upset. You patted their arm, careful not to drop anything that had given you. “Don’t look so worried. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

The angel looked back at you. Hard to tell what they were thinking, as it always was, but you thought they looked content. They took the food back and placed it away again. “Okay,” you told them. “We’ve got some things we’re going to work on.”

First step of getting the angel to live on its own: teach the angel how to be a person. The eating and sleeping bits were taken care of, and the angel had picked up on clothing and even sewing with surprising speed. Regardless of how little information it had known previously, it seemed all you had to do was give it the information once, and it would retain it. That didn’t make teaching it how to bathe any less difficult. And teaching it how to go to the bathroom- well, the less said of that, the better.

And so the week went. You went to work, leaving the angel to hide in your house, then returned home and taught it what you could. It picked up reading so fast you felt like you were reminding it of something rather than teaching it, and teaching it math and money went the same way. The angel even attempted to cook for you, though it hadn’t picked up that you were seasoning the food initially, so the meal was bland. You merely had to explain that to it, though, and the next meal was much improved.

Your next day off approached, not quickly or slowly, just approached. The angel seemed almost agitated, though, as time passed. More distressed when you left, tenser and quieter when you were around. You hadn’t told them about your plan to send them away- to free them, to free them- but perhaps they’d picked up on it on their own. They were still as silent and expressionless as ever, but they stayed near you, their head lowered as they presented you something they’d cooked, or showed you something they’d cleaned or sewed, waiting for your praise or correction.

When your next day off arrived, the angel’s agitation seemed to peak. It hovered near you, wings tucked close to its back. Even when upset, it didn’t show much expression or even move all that much. It just stood, like a stone statue, unhappiness radiating from it. Still, when you told it you were going for a walk, it didn’t protest. Just looked at you and nodded.

Its compliance made you feel guilty, somehow. Even thought you weren’t doing anything wrong. This was the best path. If they angel stayed, they would just be killed or recaptured. Along with you.

The hike to the woods wasn’t usually long, but you had to go the extended route to keep away from people. The angel hid their wings under a bulky robe. It wasn’t a very good disguise, but from a distance and the right angle, they would hopefully be mistaken as a hunchback.

You led the angel deep into the woods, deeper than you would usually venture. The angel flexed their wings, shifting the cloak. Their distress flowed around them, their eyes burning into your lower back. I’m sorry, you thought, even though you weren’t sure why. This was for the best, so why did it hurt?

It took hours of walking, legs sore, before you stopped in a clearing. It was a large clearing, and more oblong than circular, but it was good enough for your purposes. And those purposes were giving the angel somewhere big enough to take off from.

Admittedly, you weren’t certain it could fly, but the wings seemed large and healthy and it had no trouble with walking or any other physical functions after some initial wobbles. It stood to reason that flight would be no different. The angel looked up at the sky, staring. Its wings spread, extending out and out to their full length. It seemed to be giving them a good stretch- there hadn’t been room in your house to do so. After a moment, it gave a couple experimental flaps. Cool wind buffeted you.

The flaps gained in intensity and, for a moment, you thought it would take off right there. But its wings stilled and slipped shut and it looked at you.

“I got you this.” You thrust a basket at them. It wasn’t a lot, but it was what you could spare (technically probably more than you could spare, but a couple days of broth wouldn’t kill you) and the basket had a fabric strap long enough that the angel could wrap it around their body and hold it while flying.

The angel took the basket and peered at the food and water and clothes and single book you’d stockpiled inside. It looked them over for a moment, then glanced back up at you.

It was the second time you’d seen the angel really emote anything and it was sorrow.

The angel’s eyes watered and its apparent confusion at that development seemed to pale in the face of its clear upset. It practically threw the basket back at you, wings spreading and sending a powerful gust across the clearing. Then it opened its mouth and did something you’d never seen it do before.

It wailed. A keening sound of despair. You’d never heard it make any kind of noise before. In fact, it seemed startled by the fact that it had made any kind of noise, though, like the crying, that didn’t seem to stop it. Instead, the angel crumpled to the ground, wings striking the dirt, and wailed.

That wasn’t quite the reaction you’d been expecting. Maybe some protest, but not the clear despair it was displaying. “H-hey, don’t- you’re okay.” You approached the angel cautiously. Its wings kept flexing and slapping against the ground and there was an impressive amount of force behind them. Still, it didn’t direct any of the hits toward you, so it felt reasonably safe to approach.

As soon as you were within a few feet of it, the angel scrambled forward. You almost bolted, but the angel didn’t attack like you though it might. It pressed its forehead to the dirt an inch from your boots and spread its wings, every feather on end and quivering. When you tried to take a step back, the angel shuffled forward, pressing its head even more firmly to the ground. It seemed to be trembling.

Your heart ached. What were you doing?

“Look, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought it would be safer if you weren’t… But I didn’t mean to upset you.” You knelt next to the angel and placed your hand on its head. The angel went still. For a moment, the stillness was like a frightened dog, expecting a strike, then it melted into a gentle contentedness.

It took a couple moments before the angel was quiet completely again. They lifted their head, face sticky from tears and a bit of dirt smudged along their cheeks. The entire scene was a little pathetic. “Here.” You pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed at their face. After a moment of letting you do so, they took it and cleaned their own face off.

Once its face was clear and it had calmed down a little, the angel looked at you balefully. It seemed to be waiting. Almost resigned. But still frightened. Like it was waiting for a scolding or punishment.

“Are you okay now?” you asked. The angel looked balefully at you. One of its hands lifted, like it was reaching out for you, but it paused before it could make contact. Its head drooped. Its wings drooped too, proud feathers dragging in the dirt. “I’m sorry,” you said again. The angel curled in on itself further. Its eyes were on the ground. “I’m not trying to send you away, all right?”

One of the feathered ear-things on the side of its head twitched. You took that as an invitation to continue. “I thought… I thought you’d be safer if you left, though.”

The angel looked up at that. They didn’t change their expression much, but they were staring intently. You reached out, slowly enough that they could move away if they wanted to. They didn’t, and you were able to rest your hand on the side of their head. Your fingers brushed against the soft, downy little feathers of their ear-wings and the somewhat-tangled mess of their hair. The angel closed their eyes and leaned into your touch. Their entire body shuddered in a sigh. “The people who captured you are still here,” you continued. “If they find you, they’re going to hurt both of us. Maybe kill us.”

The angel leaned away from your touch and lifted its gaze to yours. They were focused on you, intently so. “It’s best if you leave,” you told them. “They won’t be able to find you if you fly away, and they won’t be able to tie anything to me, either. We’ll both be safer.”

It was quiet for several moments. The angel stared at you, their wings twitching with aborted motions. They looked between you and the sky, over and over. Their brows wrinkled. Then, in a flash, they reached out and enveloped you.

Technically, it was just a hug, but the angel’s sheer size and the addition of their wings made it so much more. They surrounded you, tucking you into their chest and holding you close. You could feel their heartbeat, jackrabbiting under their ribs, and their heavy breathing. They were soft and warm around you. One of their hands moved to cradle the back of your head.

You cried. It wasn’t a lot of crying. Mostly it was some particularly wet breathing and a few tears. But the angel held you closer, rocking you against its soft chest and you felt warm and shielded. It presses its cheek to the top of your head and you felt one of its ear-wings flapping, like it was stretching out to touch you.

It was a nice moment, but it couldn’t last. You stopped crying and slipped your way back out of the angel’s arms. They let you, tucking their wings back against their back again and their arms falling back against their sides. Looking into their face, you felt… guilty? That didn’t seem fair. You were doing this for their own good. Right?

The longer you looked at them, the less you could convince yourself of that. Your shoulders drooped and a fresh wave of tears came to your eyes. The angel didn’t want to leave. You wanted them to leave, because them staying there would be a problem for you. A genuine problem, yes, a problem that could get you killed. But it wasn’t fair to pretend that this was good for the angel, nor was it fair to ignore how the angel was feeling. It didn’t want to leave. It was terrified when it realized you were going to try to make it leave.

You hung your head. “I’m sorry.” The angel watched you. “I… I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. I don’t want you to leave, but we’re both going to be in trouble if you stay. We need a way to keep you safe, but I don’t know how to do that, and I can’t think clearly about it when I’m going to be in trouble if you get found out too-” Your voice choked off, breath heaving in panic. You scrubbed the heel of your hand against your eyes until it hurt, until the pain grounded you.

Fingers wrapped around your wrist, tugging it away from your eyes. The angel was holding onto you, both hands wrapping around your wrist. Their strength was more than you’d anticipated. Perhaps it was their general softness or their seeming clumsiness or cluelessness, but you’d never seen them as particularly tough.

The hand that held your wrist, however, was not weak. It was firm and unyielding. When you pulled away, it let you go without a hint of resistance, but you had no doubt that if it had wanted to keep hold of you, you wouldn’t have been going anywhere.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you said. “I wasn’t sure if you would understand.”

The angel brushed its hand gently along the side of your face, cupping your cheek. Its face wasn’t terribly expressive, but there was something calmer, almost serene in its expression. It got to its feet, shaking out its wings, and extended its hand for you. There was a stunned moment before you took the hand and the angel pulled you to your feet. They kept your hand around theirs as they gathered up the basket you’d initially made for them and started to leave the clearing.

You let them lead you along until you realized they were leading you straight back to the village, and even when you got quite close to the buildings, they were not slowing down. “Wait,” you said. “What are you doing?” The angel gave your hand a squeeze, but they didn’t slow down. Anxiety prickled over your skin as you entered the town and headed toward the center.

People barely noticed you at first, but within a few minutes of marching through the town, people had started to point and stare. And then the staring turned into whispers and awe. Some people scrambled away. Some people gathered and followed from a distance, watching in something like awe.

You gave up on trying to stop them and instead walked alongside them to whisper furiously. “Hey. What are you doing? Do you have some kind of plan? I can’t tell what’s going through your head right now. I’m kind of just assuming you know what you’re doing, but it’d be nice to have some kind of confirmation.”             The angel squeezed your hand again. Their thumb traced over your knuckles. Their expression was serene, calm, like they’d just realized something that comforted them. It was reassuring to you, so you allowed them to drag you wherever they wanted to take you.

Until you realized they were dragging you toward the church.

“Wait.” You didn’t try to pull away again, but you did trip over yourself in your realization, making the angel slow down. “You can’t be serious- we can’t go there! That’s the exact place we’re supposed to be avoiding.”

The angel stared at you for a moment, then released your hand. It nodded to you before turning and heading toward the church again.

“Wha- wait!” The angel paused, allowing you to catch up. “You’re still going, huh?”

The angel stared at you. You sighed. “Okay. I guess we’re going, then.

The angel held out a hand. You took it once more. Together, you walked toward the church.

As soon as you stepped through the doorway, the angel drew itself up, wings fluffing. The entire thing was quite intimidating to watch, given its already tall stature. It glanced around, as if assessing the space. Warm, honey-gold sunlight filtered through the tall, stained glass windows and illuminating the wood of the benches. When the sunlight hit the angel, it seemed to surround them, glimmering off their body in a way that wasn’t quite natural. Almost like a halo around its entire body.

You waited, mostly trying to see what the angel was going to do next. As it turned out, you didn’t have to wait very long, because a pissed-looking priest stormed into the sanctuary.

“The beast returns to holy ground,” he snarled. You stepped in front of the angel, arms spread.

“They’re not a beast. You’re the one who captured them and chained them in your basement. They haven’t done anything!”

“They have been cast out of the divine host. Their fall and subsequent capture are what is deserved for those who would defy our Lord.” The priest didn’t sound enraged or even particularly vicious. His tone was cool and cold. He approached, steps clunking heavily against the cool wooden floor of the church. You resisted the urge to step back and steeled your resolve as the priest approached. The angel didn’t seem to be doing much, though you could feel their presence at your back. “Your assistance with their disobedience is a serious strike against you, but the Lord God will welcome all stray members back to his flock, provided you are willing to repent and return the beast to its confinement.”             The priest was leaning into your face, so close you could feel his breath touching your skin. The angel was still unmoving, but there was more tension to their body now. Like a big cat getting into a crouch.

Your breath was trembling, but you managed a clear enough whisper. “Fuck off.”

The priest leaned back. “Hm. Very well. May God have mercy on your soul.” The gestured toward a couple of men standing toward the back of the church. They started to approach, brandishing their short swords. “I would suggest surrender,” the priest said. “Unless you are eager to find out how the Lord God punishes those who disobey his-”

The angel lunged. Its wing brushed against your shoulder as it darted around you and slammed into the priest. He fell, the angel on top of him. Their wings shielded you from seeing what they were doing, but the choked gurgle from the priest let you know enough about what was happening.

The guards, who had been standing on either side of the aisle, near the pulpit, charged. One of them nearly caught the angel with their sword, but the angel managed to recoil just in time, leaving the priest gasping for air on the ground. The guards moved up, pushing the angel back as they blocked the priest from it. Together, they pushed the angel back a few more steps, advancing threateningly, until the angel glanced back and saw you. It stopped, digging its feet in, and turned back to the guards.

The angel spread their wings, blockading the entire aisle. It was difficult to see what happened next, but there was a scrambling noise of footsteps and the angel tucked their wings in and lunged.

Thanks to the armor the guards were wearing, this struggle was more prolonged. The angel’s wings flapped, coming down on the guard they were fighting with blows stronger than a fist could hope to achieve. One of the angel’s hands clutched at the guard’s wrist, driving the sword away from the angel’s belly. They wrestled the guard slowly to the ground, clawing at them with nails that seemed too long and sharp and stomping hard enough that the guard’s armor dented under their feet.

Chills wracked your body as you watched. The angel was a mortal, yes, but you’d clearly forgotten: mortal was not the same thing as human. And the strength with which the angel was tearing into the guard was not human.

And then a cold metal line settled against your throat. Sharp and cruel. A hand locked around your torso, pinning your arms to your sides. Icy terror settled into your brain and every vein in your body. Right. The angel was taking care of one of the guards. But there had been two.

“Call off the fucking bird,” the guard said, “before I slit your throat.”

The sheer terror in his voice should have made the threat less effective, but realizing that he was scared enough to kill you without thought was nearly enough to make you start begging for your life immediately. The angel whipped around as the first terrified whimper escaped your mouth.

It was the third time you’d seen the angel truly express emotion. And they were angry.

They bared their teeth and stretched their wings out, flexing them to nearly their full span. It was an impressive display, and a terrifying one. The knife dug a little more into your throat. Panic clawed your belly to shreds.

“Fucking stupid worthless shit,” the guard cursed behind you. The knife kept trembling at your throat, threatening to nick a little too deep. The angel watched, brows deeply knitted. It twitched its wings a few times, freezing when the blade drew blood at your throat. “You fucking take one step closer and your little pet human bleeds out like a pig,” the guard said. It wasn’t even a vicious or snarling threat. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. But the knife was just as sharp and the trembling was making it slip against your skin in a dangerous fashion.

The angel paused. It straightened up out of its attack crouch, wings tucking against its back. The knife eased at your throat a little. The angel took in a slow, deep breath, eyes on you. Its expression relaxed into something gentler as it met your eyes. It seemed to take a deep breath. Its wings relaxed. It closed its eyes. And it began to sing.

It wasn’t singing with its mouth or vocal cords. It was the same singing you’d heard in the beginning, the singing that had drawn you to the church’s basement. Less like the vocalization of a human, but more like an emotion made into pure sound. It vibrated through your limbs and settled in your chest, a heavy weight of sadness and fear.

The song pulsed, rose and fell, over and over again, thrumming and pulsing and changing as it went. It started as a terrible projection of fear and pain, injury and despair. Then the pain was threaded with hope, then a joy and relief so palpable it was its own kind of pain. Peace and comfort followed that, almost like being settled in a warm bed after a nice meal. Then an abrupt sharpening of terror and sadness before turning to determination, then blind, horrible rage. The anger pressed in around you, bearing down like a sharpened spear. But the rage wasn’t quite aimed at you. It was aimed at the man holding you. And being the target of an angel’s pure rage, even when nothing physical is being done with it, is a daunting prospect. The guard’s knees went weak and the knife at your throat wavered.

The song intensified. Your own legs were trembling under the weight of it. Anger and hope and fear and happiness and even love, pressing down on you, emotion given a deep, physical property. You sobbed, barely feeling the knife at your throat. Had it fallen away? Could you just not feel it anymore? What was real? All that was real was the song and the love that was building in the song, growing more intense around you. It was insulating, like the angel was trying to wrap you in the song until you were surrounded by care, until there was nothing else in the world.

You blinked your eyes. They hadn’t been closed, but you hadn’t been seeing anything. It had been more like the world had shifted slightly out of focus and you were just getting it back to center.

You were lying down across a lap. The shifting of wings above you let you know whose lap you were lying across. The angel was holding you, cradling your head against its body. There was still the faintest traces of song humming from it, though it wasn’t the great, overbearing crescendo it had once been. You made an attempt to sit up and the angel shifted around you, letting you move while still offering support.

“What happened?” you asked. You felt woozy, a bit out-of-body. The angel, obviously, didn’t say anything, but it did stretch one of its wings toward the crumpled shape of the other guard. He was lying on the ground, unmoving. “Is he-” you started, then stopped when you realized his chest was rising and falling. He seemed stunned, like you’d been a few moments ago.

You twisted your head around to get a better look at the rest of the room and winced. Stinging pain radiated from your neck. The angel nudged your hand away and ran its fingers over the lines cut into your skin. Right, the knife. They didn’t seem to be actively bleeding anymore, so they must not have been deep, but the angel still seems distressed by their very presence.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tilting your head back to look up into their face. The angel stares back at you, their ear-wings folded calmly against either side of their head. They seemed physically unhurt, or they weren’t in so much pain that they were showing it. “Good.” You sorted through your muddled thoughts. The song had hit you so hard, it was almost like your own body had gone through all those emotions it had conveyed at a rapid pace. No wonder the guard was stunned. Your head was swimming. But then your brain finally catches on a thought and you startle. “The priest!”

The angel caught you as you attempted to scramble upright and assisted you to your feet. The priest was close to the pulpit, but he was as collapsed as the guard. He seemed to be recovering faster, though that primarily consisted of him flopping his limbs in all directions. You approached, the angel close behind you.

The priest stared up at you as you got within speaking range. His face was completely under his control, unlike the rest of him, and a sneer contorted his expression. “You cannot win against His holy will. God will ensure that His holy justice will-”

“Uh huh,” you said. “He doesn’t really seem to be doing too much smiting right now, though.” The priest groaned on the ground, grinding his teeth.

“Are you going to kill me?” he said, a semi-hysterical laugh bubbling from his lips. “It’s no matter. I will return to His Holiness and my eternal home in heaven. And you- do you think you’ll be able to stay here with blood on your hands and that beast stalking your footsteps?”

“They’re not a beast,” you snapped before forcibly calming yourself. “I’m not going to kill you.” The angel shifted, clearly irritated, but you held up your hand to them. “I don’t have anything to kill you for. You haven’t done anything to me. Not really.” You turned to the angel. “It’s their decision. If they want you dead- that’s up to them. Not me.”

The angel watched you as you spoke, then it turned its gaze to the priest. You placed a hand on the angel’s shoulder. Well, close to its shoulder. The angel was very tall. There was a moment of silence. The angel’s wings twitched. Maybe it was hesitant to try and kill now that it wasn’t the heat of the moment. Maybe it was weighing the pros and cons. The priest rolled onto his stomach and groaned.

The angel turned and pressed a kiss to your head. It happened so fast, you didn’t register it until the angel was turning and grabbing the man on the ground. They hefted him up by his lapels and started hauling him out of the church. You hurried along behind them.

It took only a few moments for the angel to make it to the enormous front doors of the church. They shoved them open with only one hand, sending more light across the sanctuary and revealing the large crowd of people milling around. At least half the town was gathered outside the church, presumably drawn by the commotion and the sight of an angel. The angel looked around them with what seemed to be satisfaction, then hefted the priest again, holding the man out in front of them. Then the angel extended their wings to their full length, drew the priest in close again, so their faces were mere inches apart, and began another song.

The previous song, the one inside the church, had been intense like holding your hand over an open flame, but this was intense like having a spear driven slowly into your brain. This was focused, purposeful. A spire of anger and pain. The world flickered behind your eyes, an image pressed against your brain- the memory of being thrown away, then lost, then trapped. The rage and grief and panic of being trapped. The priest’s face loomed down at you, sneering, cold, and the terror that welled inside of you twisted not just your stomach but your entire being. You were cast out and alone and the only thing you could do was scream as someone else caged you.

At some point, the angel had dropped the priest. They stepped closer to you, tucking their wings about you as the song ended, trembling and weak. They seemed tired, their wings drooping along with their posture. Their body slumped. They weren’t leaning against you, but they were swaying toward you. You reached up to take their face in your hands.

“You okay?” you asked. The angel blinked at you. A few more notes trembled out of it. You could feel them pass from the angel into you. And with them, something like an image: you, scoring out lines of text on a wall with a makeshift chisel, gently dimming the blinding brightness of the room to the comfortable darkness. The angel gave a long, shuddering sigh, then slumped forward until its body weight was slowly but surely crushing you.

The angel was asleep before either of you hit the ground. The priest didn’t seem to be doing much better. He was curled on the ground, occasionally twitching. Maybe he was crying, you weren’t sure. A couple of people walked over toward him, but no one seemed particularly worried. Had everyone else heard the song and made the connection too? Perhaps the angel had just been trying to tell its story. Maybe that was its revenge- making the entire town turn against him.

By the point you’d processed that information, you’d been smushed to the ground. The angel was big enough that you really couldn’t lift them at your best, and you were exhausted by the day. After only a couple seconds to shoving, you resigned yourself to being on the ground.

Footsteps shuffled closer and you looked up to see a few of your neighbors around you. “Need help?” an older man, one you recognized as someone who taught at the local university. You curled one arm protectively over the angel, cautious. “We’re not gonna hurt ‘em. Just trying to help get you home.”

You considered. Then nodded. The angel stirred as a few people worked together to lift it off of you, but it settled when you patted its arm. Slowly, you and the angel returned to your home.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting after you got to your house. For that moment, you didn’t expect anything at all, except for a long nap because you were exhausted. And you did get that, lying in the blanket pile on your floor with the angel. They practically crawled on top of you several times, and your subsequent crawling away so you weren’t crushed to death ended with the blanket pile being almost dragged to the other side of the room. The angel was, of course, never deterred, and it was on top of you by morning.

What you hadn’t anticipated happening at all was the gifts that kept appearing at your house. Clearly, your neighbors were dropping them off. Notes were often attached, sometimes independent of any gifts- wishing you well, giving you messages of support, and expressions of general kindness. There was food in the pile, from vegetables to fresh cheese and bread, as well as some cloth and even a quilt. That one, in particular, made tears come to your eyes. It had clearly been in a closet for a while, given the musty smell, but it was handmade and the kindness of the gesture was unmistakable.

It took you some time to remember what most of these gifts were for- not until you read the last note on the pile. It was from the town’s doctor, a simple gift of a few herbs used for healing, though they were in bundles too small to be useful. The note was simply ‘For health, luck, and peace.’”

The gifts, the note and herbs. You knew what they were for. You’d participated in the tradition before, though your gifts had been pretty paltry. They were traditional gifts given to a newcomer, sometimes when there was a baby born, but also sometimes when a person in the town married someone from outside the town. Gifts of welcome and acceptance.

You returned to the angel, arms laden with the gifts, and offered them to it. The angel seemed vaguely overwhelmed by them, but accepted them nonetheless. It still seemed tired, and so you spent the day at home, quiet and undisturbed. You bathed the angel, scrubbing bits of blood off it and trying to get the feathers of its wings clean. The angel, after some insistence, ended up bathing you, as well, and it fussed over the few bruises you’d gained in the fight. Another night was spent curled in the same nest-bed. This time, you just let the angel flatten you with its body. It was sort of cozy.

The next day, you returned to the church. The town was still a little quiet- there weren’t as many people out as there would usually be- but the people you did see nodded politely to you. Their nods were a little longer, a little lower, than they usually would be. Almost like slight bows. Though you weren’t entirely sure why they would be bowing at you. Perhaps they were bowing to the angel at your back.

The church seemed strangely abandoned, despite it having only been a bit over a day since everything had happened. The guard’s body was still crumpled on the floor, some blood splattered around him and dried to the floor. You approached it. The angel followed, though their wings fluffed up with agitation.

There wasn’t much else you could do with the body. You lifted it, with the angel’s help, and placed it on a pew. You cleaned the blood and viscera on the floor. Then, finally, you took the body downstairs, stripped it, and wrapped it in the white funeral cloth. The angel helped, with an expression on its face that seemed mournful, though it was hard to be sure.

Perhaps you could have left it like that, left the man wrapped in cloth and walked home. But it felt weird to do so. The angel helped you carry the man up into the graveyard. Then you dug out a pit and placed the body in it before burying them.

The angel knelt next to the grave, resting a hand on the dirt. “Sorry,” you told the grave. You weren’t sure where the other two were- the other guard and the priest, but you hadn’t seen them. Perhaps they’d been driven out. The townspeople certainly seemed to have taken your side. The man in the grave wasn’t entirely innocent- he had certainly seemed willing to kill or hurt the both of you. But you felt weird. The other two had lived. He hadn’t. Luck of the draw.

The angel leaned against you, just enough to feel the warmth of their presence. You sighed. They were safe, at the very least, and they were accepted by the town.

You looked at the angel. “What do you want to do now?”

The angel looked back at you. They blinked, once, slowly. Then they took your hand and pulled you into the church.

You knew where you were going before you got there. The heavy doors were solidly sealed, though no longer chained. The angel opened them, letting go of your hand as they did so. They stepped through the doorway, then looked back at you. You stepped forward and took their hand. And so, they led you back down to the basement.

The room was pitch black. You stretched out your hand and felt the rough walls. As you continued, you could feel the words carved into the stone, and some of the scratches and gouges where you’d carved the words away.

The angel moved toward the center of the room, away from the walls, and you followed them. They moved to the spot they’d been chained in. One of their hands was still around yours. The darkness of the room pressed in on you, so black there was no difference between your eyes being open or closed. The angel’s hand remained, the only point of contact in the room. Their thumb brushed over your knuckles, their fingers intertwining with yours. You could hear their breathing. You breathed, too. Together, in the small, dark room where you’d first met. There was nothing else. There was only the room.

The angel tugged on your hand, and you moved with them until you were flush against their chest. They hugged you, briefly, then sighed. It shuddered through all their bones on the way out, and seemed to take something with it. Like something they had been holding onto was released.

Then they pulled on your hand again and led you back out of the basement.

When you emerged into an area that was light enough to see, you caught sight of the angel’s face. It was the fourth time you had seen the angel really emote. And it was happy. There was a certain level of sadness or mournfulness to it as well. But the angel was smiling. Its gaze turned to you and it smiled wider still.

You cleaned the church for a while. It felt more like habit than anything else. Although there was something quite satisfying about going through the priest’s office and dumping everything onto the street. There should have been other officials in the church, but there weren’t any. Perhaps they’d fled when the priest was deposed, perhaps they’d just not wanted to stick around now that the angel they’d trapped was free. Who could say. You weren’t overly fussed at the loss.

When you emerged into the sanctuary, sore and a bit grimy, there were people there.

It was just a couple, a man and a woman. Then you saw the bundle they were clutching between them. A baby, presumably one born not too long ago. It squirmed a little in the blankets, but it didn’t cry. Its breathing seemed… maybe a little labored? You weren’t sure- you weren’t expert in babies.

The angel seemed to perk up when it noticed this, eyes intent, though it made no move to get closer to the couple. “Hello,” the woman ventured. You wracked your brain for their names. Tabitha, maybe? And the man was… Gerald? “We- we, ah.” Her voice quavered and she held the baby a little tighter.

“We came here for a blessing,” Gerald said. “We weren’t sure…”

Oh. Their baby was ill. “You might want to go to the town doctor,” you suggested.

“We were there,” Tabitha insisted. “They gave us medicine. But just in case we…” She glanced around the church, clearly anxious.

Right. They would want a blessing for their baby. One that would maybe grant good health, or at least a peaceful passing and a safe journey after, if not. You chewed the inside of your lip, unwilling to turn them away. But it wasn’t like you knew how to perform a blessing, or hand any authority to do so-

The angel caught your wrist and started tugging you along toward them. The couple huddled closer together at the sight of the angel, but both of them remained there. There was something in their expressions… perhaps awe? Perhaps even a flicker of hope. The angel stopped in front of them. Its hand shifted on your wrist until it was properly holding hands with you. Then it extended its other hand toward the couple.

They barely hesitated before holding their child out.

The angel didn’t quite touch the child, but their hand hovered over them. The air hummed with the faintest vibrations of a song. The baby squirmed. Your hand, the one the angel was holding, felt warm.

And then it was over. The angel dropped their hand. Their ear-wings fluttered a few times. They dipped their head to the parents in a slight bow.

“Thank you,” Tabitha whispered. She clutched the baby to her chest and it kicked its little legs a few times. “Thank you.”

The baby lived. Maybe it was the blessing, or maybe it was the medicine, it wasn’t clear. But clearly work had gotten around, because people came to you for blessings at least once a day. The angel always obliged, though they refused to work if you weren’t around, and they nearly always looked to you for something like permission before they performed the blessing. The only time they didn’t was when they were performing one for young kids or babies.

Perhaps the blessings was why you set up station in the church. It was easier for people to get to than your house, and the angel didn’t seem particularly bothered by being there. Sometimes, the people who came for blessings wanted to talk, too, and you were better suited for it than the angel. They listened, certainly, but people who were emotionally worn down didn’t tend to react well to an angel staring them down with a blank expression. You gave all the advice you could, which wasn’t much. They seemed to be happy after talking with you, though, so you kept at it.

The days settled into a steady routine. You would head to the church and take care of problems that any people had, be it by distributing blessings or by just talking to them. Then you’d gather the donations that had been left overnight and sort through them. The angel was a good help whenever you had to clean- their wings allowed them to get to areas in the high, sloping ceiling that you could never manage.

When they weren’t cleaning or blessing, they tended to hover around you. Not in an oppressive way- they just were usually nearby. Sometimes, if your mood turned, they would come closer, settling next to you, and either stretching their wings out toward you or draping their torso against you. The touch was comforting, and you found yourself responding similarly to their mood. You could almost sense when they were anxious, and they seemed pleased when you were nearby.

You’d just finished administering advice to a small crowd of worried people about a spate of rapid deaths and had settled down to look through the few offerings that had been left when it hit you. “Ah, fuck,” you said. The angel glanced over at you, ear wings twitching. “I’m a priest now, aren’t I?”

The angel headed over and flumped down next to you. Their wings wrapped around you in a comforting manner. “I give blessings and advice, I maintain the church, people leave offerings. Isn’t that a priest?”

The angel squeezed you with its wings. It nuzzled its head against yours. “I mean, I’m not a priest of God,” you mused out loud. “I don’t think I care much about Him.” You looked down at the angel, who stilled under your gaze and tilted its head until it was looking into your eyes. “I guess if I am a priest, I would be one for you, right? That makes me your priest.”

The angel shuddered. The motion trembled through its wings, making every feather stand on end. Its eyes went wide. Then it surged forward to mash its lips with yours.

It was so startling that you simply fell backward, unable to stand up against the angel’s enthusiasm. “Woah, woah, hey!” you said as the angel fumbled on top of you. One of your hands found the back of their head and tangled in their hair. The angle went still. “You okay?”

The angel closed its eyes and sang a few notes. An image rose into your mind- an image of you, leaning over the angel, your arms outstretched and a smile on your face. The emotion the angel felt surged so powerfully you could feel it in your fingertips. Vague other images swam through your mind- images of a couple kissing and a sense of both curiosity and jealousy, images of you and a deep sense of affection, and images of the town with a sense of protectiveness. The final image was one of you and the angel, wrapped together in each others’ arms, and the sense of want that came from that image made your breath catch.

When you came back to yourself, the song fading, the angel was blinking down at you. Their eyes were wet. You reached up and they leaned into your touch as soon as it met their cheek.

“Okay,” you said. “We can try this too. Let me show you.” Your other hand went back into their hair and you pulled them down for a kiss.

It was enthusiastic, if unskilled. When you broke away for air, the angel kissed furiously at every bit of skin they could reach. Scattered bits of song slipped from their lungs, tingling along your skin and mind in dizzying fashion.

Eventually, the angel backed off, apparently exhausted by the outburst of emotion. They slumped on the ground next to you, though there was an apparent reluctance to break contact. They kept a hand on your stomach, feeling you breathe. For your part, the connection sent wild sparks running through your body.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said after a few moments. The angel tugged you closer, pressing its face to the top of your head and heaving a contented sigh. Even without the song, all you could sense in the slow, steady breath was love, love, love.

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #fallen angel #angel partner #fallen angel story #the angel #idk man this took too long and i don't even know if I like the ending but it's HERE NOW

[houseofripley]

Her Party Girl

Rhea Ripley X Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Rhea has her way with you after you misbehaved at the club.

WARNINGS: 18+, SMUT, Aggressive Language, Slapping, Spanking, Orgasm Denial. Edging, Brief mention of implied Choking, Strap-On, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Mommy Kink, and a teensy bit of fluff as a treat.

WORD COUNT: 3,230 A/N: Just a little something I threw together last night. This is literally my first fic please don't kill me if it's dogshit!!!

Everyone knew you had a reputation. Headlines seemingly popped up nearly every week about what sort of trouble you got caught up in the night before. You didn’t care about whatever the news said, they didn’t matter to you. You had convinced yourself Rhea didn’t care either, she hadn’t brought it up so you figured you were in the clear. 

Rhea began getting fed up with your behavior about a month prior. She was sick of the near-daily drunk calls in the middle of the night while she was away. It killed her not knowing exactly where you were and who you were with. One thing about Rhea is that she is a possessive mother fucker.

Rhea came to the conclusion she needed to keep her eye on you as much as possible to calm her worries. She was currently on a WWE Live tour and had you flown into the city she was in.

For weeks Rhea kept you under a lock and key but recently she had been more lenient. She didn’t care for the bars and party scene but the constant begging got to her, she had to give in at some point.

The two of you made a deal, you were allowed to party only if Rhea was with you and only if she could have her way with you right after. 

Tonight Rhea had just lost a match with Becky, and she was fuming. As soon as she left the ring she bolted backstage shoving past fellow wrestlers and crew to get to her tiny locker room. You were there waiting for her but as soon as you saw Rhea slam the door open you knew something was wrong.

“Jesus Christ, Rhea baby, what's wrong?” You questioned as you stood up from the couch, examining the woman's demeanor.

“She fucking pinned me!” Rhea shouted at you. You knew not to touch her when she was pissed but you couldn’t help yourself. You draped your arms over Rhea’s neck as you told her “Hey hey it's okay…it’s not a serious deal, it’s just one little show. I need you to calm down baby.” 

“Rhea Ripley doesn’t fucking lose, especially not to goddamn Becky Lynch!” Rhea yelled at you while grabbing both of your arms with a painful grip. You knew she couldn’t help it… she was naturally aggressive. Ignoring the pain she was causing you, you sat her down on the couch and removed your arms from her neck. Rhea slowly let go of the hold she had on your arm.

You let Rhea compose herself before handing her the pile of her streetwear. Rhea slipped into her jeans and threw on an unbuttoned tee over her sports bra before slouching back into the couch. 

“How about we go out and take all that stress off your shoulders,” You offered whilst packing up Rhea’s bags.

Of course, you wanted Rhea to let loose by getting a few drinks in her but you selfishly needed an excuse to go get plastered. 

“Absolutely not. I’m not dealing with that nonsense tonight.” She scorned as you found your way onto her lap. “I got all dolled up for you, are you really gonna make me sit in a hotel room all night?.” You pouted in return.

“I said no.” Rhea sternly raised her voice at you. She gave you a toughened stare trying to pick apart your thoughts.

 You figured out Rhea’s kryptonite, one simple word. Over the past several months of your relationship, you took note of Rhea’s behavior shift after using one particular word. Tonight you wanted to abuse the hell out of that word.

“Oh, but Mami I know you’ll have so much fun…” You whined in her ear, her hands gripping at your sides the moment you let that word out of your mouth.

Rhea shot a look at you, letting out a heavy breath. She had caved and you knew it. “I guess I can make some time for you baby…tonight only.” Rhea hummed out. She was pissed about going out…but that damn word…it did things to her. You pecked her lips innocently knowing you got exactly what you wanted. 

After the two of you dropped Rhea’s bag off at the hotel you dragged her to a nearby club down the street. You had wasted no time ordering a shot of tequila as well as Rhea’s go-to, a neat whiskey. You ushered Rhea to a small booth right near the dance floor. Rhea kept quiet and stayed in her seat trying to enjoy her whiskey while you made multiple trips to the bar ordering an array of drinks over the span of forty minutes. 

You pulled out your phone, snapping a picture of Rhea as she examined the club around her. “Oh c’mon,” She grouched. “You look like you want to kill everyone in here, it's a little sexy,” You joked before adding “I’ll be right back.”

 “Alright that’s enough you don’t need anymore.” She snapped at you as you came back to the table with two shots of vodka. You pouted as you handed her one of the shots “Are you gonna come dance with me Mr. Grumpy Pants?” Rhea shot you a glare and shook her head as she shooed you away. “Your loss, Mami.” You teased before downing your shot and walking out to the dance floor. 

You knew Rhea was eye fucking you while you were out dancing so you made sure to put on a show for her. You “accidentally” lifted your skirt to show the bottom half of your ass knowing no matter how pissed the woman acted she was going insane for you. 

Just several minutes later a man approached you asking if you’d like to take a shot with him and his buddies. You knew Rhea would put you through hell if she saw you drinking anymore but she was occupied closing your tab. It was a free shot of course you had to take it. You went up to the end of the bar and had one last shot. But the second your shot glass hit the table you knew you had fucked up. 

Rhea was storming towards you looking more furious than ever. She stole your hand and started dragging you out of the club, making sure to shove her shoulder into the guy who had offered you a drink. “Oh c’mon! You expect me to say no to a free drink?! I was saving you money!! ” You blurted out once you got to the street. You were practically running as you tried to keep up with the woman as she led you back to your hotel without saying one word.

The second the door to your room had latched, Rhea drove you against the nearest wall leaving virtually no space between the two of you. “You think you're so cute whoring yourself out for drinks from strangers don't you?” She snarled inches from your lips. You kept your mouth shut as you dozed off staring into Rhea’s deep blue eyes.

“Answer me you fucking slut.” She demanded as she delivered a slap across your left cheek. In return, you just smirked making sure to not make a sound. That smile of yours drove Rhea insane, she lost all control as she shoved her lips onto yours whilst backing you up to the edge of the bed.

Rhea had shoved you down onto the bed before immediately connecting your lips again. You matched every sloppy movement the buff woman made. “I’m gonna ruin you whether you like it or not you little brat.” She whispered, trailing her lips down to your neck. Her lips attacked your neck as she left multiple bites causing you to let out a series of whines. 

While Rhea spent her sweet time focusing on your neck her hands found themselves tugging off your shirt and discarding it on the floor. Once she had discovered you weren't wearing a bra she pulled away. “What a slut…couldn’t even cover yourself up this morning.” She commented as she admired your top half.

 Rhea lowered herself to your chest, licking right across your nipple as a moan escaped your mouth. She knew she was driving you insane as she lapped her tongue in circles around your nipples. As you squirmed underneath her touch she managed to yank your skirt off.

A whiny moan left your mouth once Rhea’s thumb began making circles over your clit, the fabric of your flooded panties adding even more pleasure. “So soaked for me already hm, you’ve been wanting Mami all night haven’t you,” Rhea snarled, leaving you speechless. You knew you were in deep shit and you were paying for the actions that happened just twenty-five minutes ago. 

As soon as Rhea knew she had you folding under her touch she pulled away. She stood up between your legs as she tore off her unbuttoned shirt. “Too bad naughty girls don’t get to be touched,” Rhea fake pouted.  She wasn’t going to touch you until you were begging. She needed to hear your pleading.

Rhea’s full frame stood at the edge of the bed stalking your every move. Your right hand snaked down your stomach before being swatted away by Rhea. A whimpered “Please” broke your silent streak. Rhea bent over your face, her warm breaths melting your skin “Oh baby I’m nowhere even near started and I already have you so worked up. Poor thing…it’s gonna take a lot more than a pathetic please before I touch you.” She whispered before standing upright again.

“Please! I need you to touch me!” You crashed out. Rhea gave you a look of pity mixed with anger, you knew she wanted more. “I’ll be such a good girl for you!! I just need your touch!” You earned a simple smirk from Rhea. 

“Mami!” You cried out in frustration. There it was, exactly what she was looking for. “I’ll do anything Mami! Please!!! Touch me Mami!” You whined.

The grin on Rhea’s face grew larger. “Mmm what a naughty girl you are.” Rhea huffed out

“Now tell me what you want from Mami,” She said, kneeling down right in front of your core that was near the edge of the bed. “Your mouth Mami!” You begged. 

Rhea looked up at you as she planted a kiss on your clothed clit. “You want Mami’s mouth right here don’t you?” She teased, causing you to let out a pathetic whimper. “Right there!” You cried before Rhea pulled your panties off in a swift motion causing you to let out a gasp at the sensation of the cold air against your wetness.

Rhea needed to taste you as much as you needed her tongue in between your folds. But Rhea wasn’t done teasing you, not yet. She enjoyed hearing your whimpers as she kissed and licked stripes over your inner thighs. “Please Mami, I need your mouth. I’ll be such a good girl for you!” You pleaded as she drove you insane. 

“Pathetic little girl.” Rhea taunted under her breath before finally diving her tongue between your folds. She kept her eyes looking up at you, she loved seeing how much she satisfied you.

Rhea’s tongue slipped right into your entrance as her nose rested on your clit. All you could spit out were yelps and moans. Rhea had gone back to tracking her tongue up and down your center. 

She slipped her middle finger into you causing you to let out a string of moans. Once you had gotten a feel for her finger, Rhea knew you would want more and that's exactly why she pulled her finger out. You cried out her name begging to be touched again. 

She hadn't forgotten the little stunt you pulled earlier and she wasn't gonna let you forget either. She pulled herself up off the floor and hovered her face over yours, placing her clothed leg right against your core. “I need you,” You cried out. “You were being such a naughty girl earlier. Mami thinks you need to be punished for that.” She menacingly said before flipping you onto your stomach.

You pushed your ass up in the air knowing exactly what you were in for. Rhea delivered a slap to your ass just before you sharply gasped. You heard the sound of Rhea’s belt being slipped out of her jeans. “No no no!!! Mami please no! It won’t happen again I swear!!” You wailed.

The woman just ignored you as she slashed her belt down on your soft skin causing you to scream out. “Count.” She demanded. Rhea made you count all ten lashings she gave you. She had you braindead between each lashing she gave you.

“Such a good girl for Mami, now let me see your pretty little pussy.” Rhea declared while flipping you over and spreading your legs. The large woman kneeled back down before attacking your clit with her tongue, sending shock waves through your spine.

You covered your mouth to quiet the moans coming from you as she devoured you. Rhea slipped two of her fingers into you while using her other hand to pull your hand away from your mouth. “I want this whole floor to hear how good I’m treating you baby.” She hummed against your clit whilst curling her fingers inside you. 

Rhea knew all of your weak spots and she made sure they didn't go unnoticed. As her tongue piercing rocked over your clit back and forth you were about to come undone. “Mami I’m gonna cum!” You howled before Rhea growled out, “No you’re not angel, you’re gonna be a good girl and wait until you get permission.” Rhea slipped her fingers out of your hole as she stood up. 

“Please Mami I need you, you make me feel so go-” You were interrupted by Rhea's lips crashing onto yours as her fingers found their way back into you. You took a hold of her midnight hair tugging at her roots, in return Rhea let out muffled groans into your mouth. It drove her crazy whenever you pulled on her hair, she would never admit it but it was obvious by her responses.

Rhea felt your walls tighten around her curling her two fingers, she pulled her thumb up to your clit beginning to drag circles around your bud. You were a drunk mess under her, your breath getting heavier. 

As you were nearly unable to control your orgasm you were hit with that same feeling of defeat you felt moments ago as Rhea had yet again pulled away from your touch. All you could was cry out praying for her to touch you again. You knew you pissed her off but this was borderline tortuous. 

“You poor thing,” Rhea fake pouted, chuckling as she walked towards your suitcase. Rhea knew you would bring her strap, she shoved her way around your suitcase for a moment before pulling it out. Rhea made her way towards you before removing her jeans and boyshorts.

You bucked your hips up into the air watching her put her strap on. “So needy,” She smirked, “You want to cum all over my cock don’t you baby…” 

“I need to cum on your cock!! Mami please let me cum on your cock!” You pleaded.

Rhea just had to tease you one last time as she repeatedly put her tip in, pulling it out right after.

Once the buff woman was satisfied with your series of cries and whimpers she slowly filled you up. You let out a string of moans and cusses as Rhea took a firm grip of your thighs and began thrusting slowly. “Mhm-taking Mami’s cock so good baby.” She hummed, taking in your view.

As you started rocking your hips against her thrusts she began to pick up her speed. Rhea knew you liked it when she fucked you hard but she would always make sure you were fully ready for her cock. Your moans and Rhea’s coos echoed in the bare hotel room. 

She took hold of your hips as she was thrusting to a speed the both of you clearly went crazy for. Rhea’s main focus was always pleasuring you but tonight the pressure Rhea felt on her core with every thrust was sending her over the edge. She wanted to cum with you.

“Mami,” You whimpered, rocking your hips up and down as her hands trailed around your neck and chest.

“Shhhh…soon baby.” She reassured, lowering her chest to yours, you tugged at her sports bra signaling you wanted her to remove it.

 Rhea threw her bra across the room as her thrusts were becoming faster and more sloppy. The two of you were a moaning and groaning mess.

Rhea wrapped her hand around the base of your throat. Hovering over you she muffled out “Now are you gonna be a good girl for me from now on.” Her words were more of a demand rather than a question and you knew if you didn’t answer you wouldn’t be able to cum for the next month.

“Oh fuck! I’m gonna be such a good girl for you!” You squealed out moaning. “Please Please Please Mami!” You begged once again.. You both couldn’t hang on much longer as each thrust grew sloppier. 

“Go ahead baby, I want you to cum all over Mami’s cock.” Rhea urged you to finally let go. 

The two of you slurred out profanities as the both of you let go of all your built up tension. Sloppy kisses were exchanged as the both of you rode out your orgasms. ”Such a pretty girl,” Rhea whispered right in your ear sending shivers down your spine. 

A final wail left our mouth as Rhea pulled out of you. Rhea swiped her finger across the strap stealing a sample of your cum before licking her finger clean. She helped you sit up at the edge of the bed before getting another pile of your sweetness on the pad of her thumb.

“Open up sweet girl” She requested, you obeyed opening your mouth before sucking Rhea's finger clean. Rhea stood over you as she licked her teeth. “God baby you’re making me want to fuck you all over again.” She teased leaving you giggling. Rhea got a warm rag and began carefully cleaning you up then began cleaning herself up. 

Rhea plopped herself onto the bed pulling you to lay on her chest. Your aftercare was one of the most important things to Rhea, she knew she was rough on you so she always made time to hold you close to her never wanting you to feel like just a toy for her. The two of you silently admiring each other's faces from inches away, admiring the intricacies of eyes, combing fingers through hair, tracing invisible shapes on arms. Little kisses were littered across each other's faces. It was just the two of you, no clothes, no music, no distractions, maybe some smeared makeup but hey you can’t deny how attractive her in-ring makeup was all smeared. 

“You’re gonna be so hungover in the morning,” Rhea broke the silence with her sly comment. “And you’re gonna be the one taking care of me so I guess I’m the winner here!” You nudged her arm leaving her sarcastically rolling her eyes.

The both of you fell back into your comfortable silence. You could stay in her arms forever. No matter what wringer she put you through she was your home.

#rhea ripley smut #rhea ripley fanfic #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley oneshot #wwe x reader #rhea ripley x you #rhea ripley angst #rhea ripley imagine #wwe smut #rhea ripley fluff

[wakandas-vibranium]

Wednesday Nights || Part One

Pairing: Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, smutty smut, phone sex, dirty talk, teasing, swearing, sex work

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: As a single parent of an active kid Joel’s funds were tight, so he needed to find a quick way to make more income and surprisingly, you could make good money being a phone sex operator.

A/N: I kept daydreaming about Joel being a PSO. When I went to search for related fics I couldn’t find any so I wrote one :) Please like, comment and reblog!

part two

part three

part four

part five

Your nerves deteriorated with each passing minute. It was almost ten o'clock. On most days, the time didn't matter, but today was Wednesday. Wednesday nights were highly essential for you. 

For the past five months, you've been making late-night phone calls to talk to a specific phone sex operator named Jay. You had a sneaking suspicion that "Jay" wasn't actually his name, but you didn’t let that bother you. You understood that the operators were obligated to follow certain procedures for their own safety. 

Except for the few small truths he told you, Jay's personal life was a vast mystery to you. All you gathered about him from your extensive conversations was that he was a man in his early thirties from the southern parts of the United States who enjoyed a good cup of coffee before starting his day. He never specified where in the south he grew up, but the Texan drawl sounded too genuine to be artificial.

On Wednesdays, Jay only worked until 11 o'clock, so the two of you came to the conclusion fairly early on that you should dial in a little after 10 in order to ensure that you were his final call of the day.

You managed to calm your nerves by doing a little dance. You twirled in circles until you found yourself standing in front of your full-length mirror that was intentionally placed in front of your bed. You stopped dancing and stood there, appreciating your half-naked figure in the mirror as you waited for the clock to strike 10:03. 

You weren't sure why you always ended up so nervous around this time of the week. You'd been doing this for a while now, but it was just something about Jay that turned you into the shyest little thing.

You looked downright delicious in your baby blue lingerie. You brought it this afternoon along with a new toy. It wasn't like Jay could see it, but your imagination ran wild. Your breasts sat flawlessly in the laced blue bra. You looked like a fucking snack. 

If only you could meet Jay in person, you thought, sighing in disappointment. You eyed the clock and shook the negative thoughts from your head before you ended up in a funk. It was time to dial in. 

You were already drained from the week's stressors, and there were still two more days to go. You were in your last year of graduate school and utterly stumped on your thesis. You were sick of doing research, reading, typing, crying, and everything else that came with being a grad student. At this point, all you wanted to do was talk to Jay for as long as you possibly could and get off. 

You called in, waiting for the main operator to ask you who you wanted to be transferred to. She answered in her usual upbeat voice. You answered her question and before you knew it the line was being transferred to Jay. You held your breath on every ring, as you always did, until Jay picked up. Unexpectedly, a memory of your very first call came flooding back.

9:58pm five months ago

Valentine’s Day

Ring. Ring. Click. 

“Decompress until there’s a mess,” a cheerful woman said as she answered your call and you fought back a cackle at that ridiculous ass slogan. “Who would you like to speak to tonight?”

“Umm…this is my first time calling, so I’m not really sure.” you admitted.

“That’s alright, sugar,” the woman assured softly. “Let’s start with the simple stuff. Do you have a preference for gender or ethnicity?” 

“Umm, well, ethnicity doesn’t matter, but I’d like to speak with a man.”

“Okay. We’re getting somewhere. What kind of man?” 

“Someone with an accent.” 

“What kind of accent? We have ‘em all here, sugar.” 

The constant use of the pet name actually eased your nerves. Your shyness was depleting while your confidence was rising. 

“A southern accent?”

You had a slight accent kink since you could remember. You appreciated all accents, but there was something extra sweet about southern men and the way they could hold a conversation. Maybe it was because you grew up in the south too. 

“Louisiana?” The operator asked as she typed away at her computer. By the sound of her taps, her nails must have been quite long. You bet they looked as pretty as she sounded. 

“More of a Texan accent please.” You insisted, nibbling your bottom lip as you waited for her to find someone. 

“That’ll be Jay then.” 

“It looks like he’s finishing up another call,” she informed. “Do you mind waiting on hold for a few minutes before I transfer you?” 

“No, I don’t mind. Thank you.” 

“Okay. Placing you on hold now.”

You were on hold for maybe forty five seconds. The wait music stopped abruptly and the line rang four times before a sultry voice spoke. “Hello, darlin’.” 

And fuuuuuuuck. 

The sultry twang of his voice sounded like toe curling, earth shattering, raw sex.

You went to say hello, but for some reason you forgot how your mouth worked. You palmed your forehead, wincing.

How embarrassing. 

“Hello?” he said, tone shifting slightly. 

“Hi.” you finally whispered, palms somewhat shaking. You never did anything like this. Thank god he couldn’t see how much of a nervous wreck you were. You weren’t a virgin, but you didn’t have that many sexual experiences. There was plenty left for you to learn. 

“Sorry,” you continued, swallowing the lump in your throat. “This is my first time doing something like this and I’m a little nervous.” you admitted, shifting in the computer chair, spreading your legs. 

“I understand. We can take it slow, okay?” 

“Okay.” you nodded as if he could fucking see you. 

“My name is Jay. What’s your name?” 

“Y/N.” you blurted, without thinking. Were you supposed to give him a fake name?

He chuckled softly, “That your real name, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” you sighed deeply. “It is actually.”

“Well, Y/N is such a pretty name.” He complimented. 

“Thank you.” you smiled, shoulders relaxing as you began to twirl in your chair. 

“How old are you?” Jay asked. 

“I’ll be 28 next month,” you revealed, slipping into a more seductive voice now that your nerves were further away, “How old are you?” 

“I’ll be 31 later in September.” 

“Ah, so you’re a Libra man?” you teased. You weren’t super into astrology, but you knew the basics and looked at compatibility charts every now and then. 

“Am I now?” he laughed.

“You are and I’m an Aries. Apparently we’re very compatible.” 

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“You believe that?” He retorted.

“Sort of.” you mumbled, half shrugging. 

“I think we’ll find out in a lil’ bit.” Jay purred. You pulled the phone away from your ear as you shivered in anticipation. You were already wet for him. 

Goddamn. He already had you hooked

“Evenin’ darlin’,” Jay answered warmly on the third ring. 

“Hi,” you responded, beaming up at yourself in the mirror. Jeez all it took was a simple greeting from Jay to have you smiling from ear to ear. “How has your day been?” 

“It’s been alright. Even better now though.” He said, already flirting. 

“I’m wearin’ the blue lace lingerie we looked at last week.” You blurted, getting straight to the point. You usually talked about regular things, but you were pent up and needed him to do what he was perfect at and make you a soaking wet mess. 

“Ohh,” he exhaled sharply, “I wish I could watch you model it for me, Y/N.” He was always so good and going with the flow. He always made sure to give you what you needed. After all, that was what you were paying him for. It was left unspoken that you both forgot that this was a transaction a few months ago. 

“I bought a toy, too.” 

“What kind?” He perked up, even more interested.

“You got your laptop open?”

“Mmhmm.” he replied.

“Go to www.lovegasm.com.”

You listened to the pad of his fingers fall against the laptop keys as he followed your instructions. You ignored the fact that you were lowkey jealous of the keyboard that got to feel how his fingers felt against them. 

“Okay. I’m there.” 

“Click on the drop-down in the left hand corner.” 

“Okay.”

“Then click on ‘for women’ then select ‘dildos’.” you instructed, you slid off your shawl, moving over to the edge of the bed to give him and the page a few extra seconds to load before asking, “You there?”

“Yep. Which one am I looking for?”

“Right column. Sixth one down.” 

“I see,” he said, humming in excitement. 

“Look familiar?” You asked, giggling softly as you laid back on your bed, spreading your thighs. 

“A bit.” he admitted, unable to hide the smile in his voice. You could hear it clear as day. It was another small thing you looked forward to. 

“I can’t wait to feel yo—it inside me, Jay.” you caught yourself, but it was too late. He’d already heard you and his cock twitched in response. 

“No, you were right the first time, baby.” he said, kind of muffled, grunting softly as he raised his arms, removing his shirt and unbuckling his belt. 

“I’m a bit thicker towards the top so we’re gonna have to finger you open, so that I can slide in perfectly.” 

“Okay. Do you want me to take off my panties?” 

“No,” he said, inhaling sharply. “Pull them to the side and rub your clit for me.”

You obeyed, pulling your panties to the side and slowly rubbed your clit with your middle finger, sighing softly. 

“How wet are you?”

“Honestly,” you breathed deeply, running a finger down your slick slit. “I’ve been wet for you all day, Jay.” He groaned deeply at your admission, thick cock swelling in his pants. 

“You’re gonna cum twice for me tonight, Y/N. First on my fingers, then on my cock.” 

Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp. He knew you loved when he talked to you that way. It helped you get off even more. 

“Got it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Repeat it.” he demanded, growling softly in your ear. You stopped breathing for a second. Completely turned on by the rough tone he was taking with you. 

God he knew what you liked so well. 

“I’m cummin’ twice tonight. On your fingers, then on your cock.” You repeated, voice deep with arousal. You whimpered softly, rubbing faster as you felt that coil deep in your belly loosen a smidge. You were getting closer to the edge. 

“Good girl.” he praised, making you sigh deeply and even more of a puddle. 

“Slide a finger inside you,” he instructed, “Slow pumps.” 

You obeyed, pushing in your middle finger, massaging your folds gradually. Although the motion was effective, it wasn’t sufficient. It didn't push you very far at all. You needed more. 

“Can I add another finger, baby?” You asked, moaning louder as you rubbed your clit in wide slow circles, getting wetter by the second.

“Go ahead,” said Jay, granting you permission.

You added another finger, pumping faster. Now you were getting somewhere.

“Jay,” you moaned softly, grinding down on your fingers as you sped up just a little. 

“I love the way you moan for me.” he praised, grunting softly as he popped the button open on his jeans and unzipped them. The faint sound of his zipper being pulled down made your nipples harden almost painfully. 

“Shit Jay, I wish these were your fingers.” you admitted, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, shyness long gone. You closed your eyes, picturing Jay’s fingers inside of you, while his free hand held pressure on your lower stomach. You listened to him pull his jeans down some. 

“I know baby,” he groaned, palming his hard cock through his boxers, “So do I.” 

“Keep rubbin’ your clit for me,” like the good and dutiful girl you were, you obeyed, rubbing your bundle of nerves in tight, fast circles. Your other fingers were busy pumping in and out of your tight hole. 

It was weird at this angle, but you added a third finger and curled them up. Your thighs trembled as you fingered and rubbed yourself harder. Jay could hear how soaked you were for him and pulled his cock out, thumbing the bead of precum before stroking it lazily. You were always so wet for him and he oh so badly craved to taste it. 

He inhaled sharply before letting a single command fall past his lips, “Cum.” 

“Fuuuuck!” you moaned loudly as you came, body jerking against the bed as you worked yourself slower. 

“That’s it, baby,” Jay purred lowly, talking you through a well anticipated orgasm. “Let it out for me.” You were gonna have to change your sheets, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. You were sex crazed. 

One down. One more to go. 

Jay’s hand locked down painfully on his cock, stopping himself from almost cumming. “Now grab my cock and put it in your mouth.” Jay said, taking a steadying, deep breath. The sounds you made when you came always got to him. The sinful whimpers and desperate grunts you let out damn near made him go feral with lust. 

You palmed the silicone cock and brought it to your lips, licking up the veiny shaft before taking it into your mouth. 

“Suck it, baby. Let me hear it.” He cupped his dick loosely, starting back up with slow strokes. He had to be careful. 

You sucked the head while simultaneously pulling on the base, making the tip tug at your plump lips.

“Mmhmm,” he moaned, encouraging you to take him deeper. You tilted your head to get a better angle and took the fake cock as deep as you could, bobbing your head up and down, moaning loudly. When you choked, Jay growled. “Fuuuck, baby! You take me so well.” 

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” Jay said, panting sharply, “I can hear it. Go ahead and push me in. I know that I’ll fit easily.” 

“Goddamnit Jay,” you cursed, letting the dildo fall from your stretched lips with a loud pop, slapping your inner thigh hard enough to leave it aching in the morning.

“What?” He asked, snickering softly because he already knew the answer. 

“You just always know what to say.” you praised, gasping softly as you pushed the cock inside you, all the way to the hilt. He was right. It stretched you, but you were so wet it didn’t even pinch. 

You pushed the silicone cock inside you deep and fast. It felt so fucking good. You paused your moans so you could hear Jay. You wanted to match his strokes. Once he realized what you were doing he sped up. 

“Yeah, that’s it, babygirl,” he praised, groans growing louder, “Fuck yourself just like that. Don’t stop.” 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” you warned, pumping yourself even harder. 

“Did I tell you that you could cum?” The harshness of his voice made you open your eyes and slow your movements just a tad. 

“Jay p—please, baby,” you moaned louder, begging him to let you cum. He loved teasing you and you loved that he loved it. 

“Please what, darlin’?” said Jay, amusement heavy in his tone. He knew exactly what you wanted. Needed. He was gonna give it to you, but you had to ask first. You had to beg for it. 

“Cum with me this time,” you coaxed, whole body shuddering just from hearing the downright filthy noise Jay just made. 

“Okay, babygirl,” he groaned lowly, breaths quickening as he pumped his cock nice and fast. “Whatever you want.” 

“I want you to cum with me,” you begged, head thrashing wildly against the pillows as the tip of the dildo brushed up against that sweet spot deep inside of you. “I want to hear your moans mix with mine when we cum.” 

You sobbed as you started back rubbing your clit. The tight circling of your finger combined with the rapid thrusts from the dildo gave you a window of 30 seconds before you were cumming your brains out.

“That’s it, baby,” Jay snarled, hips jerking wildly up into his fist as he stroked his cock even faster. “Be a good girl and cum with me.” 

You came with a loud cry as your climax tore through you, back arching all the way off the mattress in sheer pleasure. Jay followed right behind you, cursing and whimpering as white ropes of cum landed on his belly and chest. You both panted harshly, together over the line as you recovered slowly from your intense orgasms.

“I think that was our best one yet.” he laughed warmly as he pulled a few tissues from the square box on his workstation to clean himself up. 

“Hell yeah it was,” you agreed, cheering weakly. Your arms were sore as hell and your legs still shook, but you felt amazing. You were on cloud nine, fully satiated. 

“Have a good night, darlin’,” Jay cooed, sleepily. “And good luck with your thesis.”

“Thanks. Night Jay.” You giggled softly, disconnecting the call, rolling over onto your side before drifting off to sleep.

The next few days were a breeze. You were in an advantageous mood thanks to Jay, and so you added four more pages to your thesis. You only had six pages left. 

On Saturday morning you woke up earlier than usual and decided to get dressed and head to your favorite coffee shop. The cafe was only a couple blocks away from your apartment so you walked there. You loved early morning strolls. The gentle wind dancing across your soft skin as the sun began to peak always made you feel alive. 

You left the cafe after the barista handed you your Assam Black tea and breakfast sandwich, while typing a text to one of your lab partners. You took a few steps without looking and collided with someone, dropping both your sandwich and your phone. Luckily, the grip you had on your tea did not falter.  

You both apologized at the same time.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. I wasn’t even lookin' in front of me.”

“My apologies, darlin’.' ' the man said, bending down to pick up your squished sandwich and unscratched cell phone. 

That voice.

That voice you knew all too well. 

Especially on Wednesday nights.

A cold chill ran across your neck and down your back, “Jay?” you squeaked loudly, staring at him in disbelief as he stood back up with your items in his hands. He stretched out his hands to give them back to you only to stop short, eyes widening in utter shock when he realized what you had called him. 

The corner of his mouth turned up as he grinned briefly. It didn’t quite match his eyes at all. “Y/N, I take it?” 

“Yes,” you nodded, giving him a small smile. “Hi, Jay.”

“Hi.” he said, eyes blinking slowly as he stood there flabbergasted, still holding your belongings in his hands. 

“Nice to meet you.” you continued, extending your hand out for him to shake. 

He shifted your sandwich and phone to his left hand, grabbed your hand with his now-free hand, and shook it twice. “Nice to meet you, too Y/N.” he said, shooting you a toothy grin. God, his smile was to die for. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip as he checked you out, admiring the view. During your phone calls, he, too, fantasized about what you looked like. He was not disappointed.  

His palm enveloped yours. Damn his hands were large, you thought, gawking at him unapologetically. They were warm and had a few callouses. He must have used his hands a great deal for his other job. He never mentioned what he did for work. 

You hoped that bumping into him wouldn't ruin your Wednesday night dalliances. Maybe he'd be okay with talking somewhere less public. It was quite rowdy both inside and outside of the coffee shop.

“My apartment is two blocks away if you want to go somewhere more private so we can talk.” you babbled, no longer able to look at him in his intense, pecan brown eyes for too long due to your shyness coming at it at an all time high. Fuck he was intimidating. The confidence he exuded had your mouth watering. 

Christ, he was sex on a stick. The man only had on a dark gray shirt, blue jeans that hugged him in all the right places and working boots. A warm flush crept across your face and neck. Get it together, girl, you thought to yourself. He barely said two full sentences to you and you were already hot and bothered. To be fair, he’d been the only one to make you cum every week for the past five and a half months. 

He raised a thick eyebrow at your suggestion — you dropped his hand, gesturing wildly once you realized how your offer must have sounded. “I mean—fuck! I promise I’m not a weirdo, Jay.” 

His eyes crinkled as he chuckled, shaking his head fondly at you, “Joel,” he said. “My name is Joel.”

#FUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKK #I need a cold shower #please like comment and share 🫶🏾 #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller x poc!reader #joel miller x black!reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #joel tlou #pedro pascal characters #my fics #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou joel

[avatarl0v3r]

The Lost Clan - Chapter 2

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Navigation

Warnings: none

Pairings: neteyam x fem!sarentu reader

Notes: so no one is confused the war was short but the sarentu stayed "hidden" they just kept wandering for years, until the reader is about 18years old and they come out of hiding by going to the zeswa first.

all the navi clans had come to the conclusion that the rda desecrated the whole sarentu clan no one knew were they went they just disappeared off the maps. they search for their sister clan after the war only finding their camp destroyed, still having hope they continued their search but to no avail no one could find a trace.

a few years later...

your clan flew upon the backs of ikrans towards the upper plains as you got to the outskirts of their camp a warrior sounded the horn and the zeswa stopped what they were doing and walked towards the front of the camp. you watched with a smile on your face seeing the plains again, the direhorses, the sounds it was different you had temek land next to your fathers ikran before dismounting her.

the cheif of the zeswa stepped forward "brother, the sarentu have returned to share our stories" you father said with a large smile plastered on his face the zeswa made sounds of cheer "welcome home brother."

that night we sat near the fire having a feast because of your peoples return, you shared stories, memories with all these people that night was filled with many happy memories and even a bead was added to everyone's songcord a bead for the return of the sarentu.

--

you sat by the river watching as it moved never stopping even if it was only for a moment. the celebration being heard within limits behind you before you heard footsteps approaching you "what is bothering you, my dewdrop?" the sound of that nickname made you smile your father has always called you that "just thinking," he sat down next to you waiting for you to continue "about how much we've missed these pasted years, and how much pandora has changed."

your father smiled gently at you before giving you a hug "we sarentu are connected to the people, and to eywa, although it may seem like we've missed a lot we truly haven't, we are just like a river constantly in motion no matter. what lands in our path"

--

a week later your clan was on the move again and word travels fast but as do rumors, and these soon reached the ears of the omatikaya people.

it was dusk and neteyam was doing his best to help out around the new home tree with chores and traing to become the new clan leader and overheard two girls talking about these rumors "excuse me what did you say?" he asked the two girls "people are saying the sarentu have returned and are sharing their stories and songs once again, can you believe that is sounds almost to good to be true, the rda eliminated all of them didn't they?"

neteyam had already tuned the girls out his mind already clouded with memories of you both together how you to had become close in such short time, would he remember what you looked like, would you remember him, his mind was racing he was excited and scared. after he saw you and your sister in your father's arms and the rda soldier right behind he thought the worst, his assumptions were deemed correct when the hunting party came back saying the sarentu came was destroyed along with no sign of you and your people.

as he walked into his family's shared hut he heard his mother's gasp as jake told her the news that the sarentu had indeed returned "ma jake do you think this could be true?" he stood there for a minute thinking "possibly they could have ran off and hid from the rda and kept moving, but that'd be hard to do considering its the rda." jake said to neytiri.

neytiri went back to making her paste for the hunters wounds, jake went back to cleaning his gun, for a mission they had soon. neteyam stood there messing with his fruit as loak and spider we're doing dumb stuff.

after the conversation jake had with neytiri they stopped speaking both wondering if it was true or just a rumor, it seemed more likely the rda killed the whole clan that would make the most sense "jake-" neytiri was cut off at the sound of the horn being sounded by the warrior who was keeping watch.

copyright © 2023 avatarl0v3r - on tumblr. do not translate/ remake/repost my works in any platform without authorized permission.

#avatar #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #pandora #jake sully #lo’ak #neteyam #neteyam x reader #avatar 2009 #neteyam avatar #atwow neteyam #neteyam angst #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #sarentu #avatar frontiers of pandora #avatar frontiers of pandora x reader

[turquoizxe]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Hobart “Hobie” Brown x Spider!Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: I just want to sincerely apologize for the delay in this post, as I have been traveling out of my hometown the past few days. However, my favorite punk is still my current brain rot lmao. The second installation is already in progress, and hopefully as I have planned, it will be out by the date I posted below( after the conclusion of the first chapter). Thank you all for for love you showed on the series announcement! As I have stated in my earlier post, I haven’t written a fan fiction in over two years, dealing with school and other things in life. Please express your thoughts throughout the series and comment! I was a little nervous because I’ve never written anyone from the UK, especially with such a thick accent. Please, share your thoughts. Thank you for your understanding, and you may begin reading.

With Love,

— Turquoizxe.

Installation (1/5) : ‘Dodgy’ 

Rating ― Mature (16+)

➝ Hobie has been distancing himself quite a bit lately. You feel froggy enough to follow him and enter the world, to what is known to be the Spiderverse. He seems to enjoy your brave gesture, but he quickly realizes why you weren’t invited to join the club.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ―fluff, heavily plot based, meeting existing ATSV Characters…

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ― ATSV SPOILERS! Minor use of language and swearing, romantic tension, minor acts of violence, Hobie’s teasing, Miguel being himself, Beef w/ Jessica Drew…

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 ― 3.6k

Dodgy;  can be a synonym for dangerous, bad or untrustworthy

As much as you kept to yourself, it was hard to imagine that you would make any friends outside of your suite mates. Your eyes were always harassing a piece of literature, involved in extracurricular activities, and keeping track of random facts no one would need in their everyday lives. Nothing short of the perfect student.

"[Name], this is the fifth time you’ve been in my office in two weeks-”

“Okay, four if you don’t count the rant about my psychology professor.”

You were always an academic achiever, graduating with honors and holding the title of salutatorian in your class. Being accepted into your dream school, earning enough scholarships to cover most of your tuition.

Yet, here you were, looking for ways to save your grades with finals around the corner. Had it been a year ago, you wouldn’t have to worry. That was until you were bit by a radioactive spider the one time you decided to skip studying and attend the most underwhelming frat party that your suite was raving about.

“You’re on the verge of losing your scholarships. $25,000 a year on the line, and you tell me all the time about how hard to your parents are working to cover the rest of your tuition.”

And you knew you couldn’t afford to stay if you didn’t work your ass off to pull through. You didn’t think being spider-woman could be so stressful. Patrols have gotten more hectic, and the late nights have been affecting your attention span in class, and even less energy to do your work. It felt so easy in the beginning, and everything was good until it wasn’t.

You felt a sting on your cheek, your tears sliding past your injury from patrol, and you felt yourself become small as you placed your face in your hands, wondering how something you’ve worked so hard for is a letter grade away from being lost.

Your counselor heaves a heavy sigh, sliding tissues across their desk to you. In just a few weeks you went from acquaintances to friends.

“Look, you’re a great kid, we didn’t have this issue your freshmen year. I know it only gets tougher from here, but you can’t fight this on your own. It’s never too late to accept help.” They started typing on their computer, ringing up your transcript and current grades for the semester. A sudden swish of wind flows through the office, following the trills of birds off in the distance your counselor scoffs at the noise and walks over to close the window. They return back to their seat, muttering intelligible, the only word you could pick up, ‘spiderwoman’.

“What about spiderwoman?”

“Oh! I just kinda thought how weird it was for another spiderman to show up when we already have a hero. Funny, I didn’t know there could be multip-”

“There’s a spider-man?”

You stammered. You felt a heat in your body, another superhero here that you weren’t even sure about.

“As much as you know about everything, I thought you would hear about the spotting of a spider-man in the city. They seem to stick close to campus.”

“Any proof?”

“No. Just words, but if there’s one spider-person, why not two?”

You could feel your blood course through your veins from the new information. It was just you, unless your old mentor, Peter, came to visit. You were knocked out of your thoughts when your name was called.

“As of now, you have a 2.0,″ your counselor stated. “Your classes seem more work oriented, and out of your five classes, you only have two finals.”

You slowly looked up from your lap.

“I’ve read the syllabus, taken notes of what to study for and what to work on. It’s just-”, you stammer, not able to give them the honest truth.

“See? You already took the steps to better yourself, don’t stress, and pace yourself, you have a month left kid.”

You let out a small chuckle. More than 20 missing assignments shouldn’t be too bad to juggle, right?

You were lying to yourself, you were going to suffer, but for a positive outcome, you didn’t mind. You got yourself together, sniffling softly as you packed your things.

“I don’t wanna kick you out, but I do have to meet with the Dean-”

“You mean your lov-”

You were cut short by a small stuffed animal flying towards you, your reflexes doing you justice before the soft material made contact with your face, slamming the door, gaining a small audience as eyes turned to you.

“Sorry everyone.”

Now, for the real fun to begin, you can at least spend some time with a special someone before your academic weapon tendencies are in full force.

The night you met him, it felt like one of those nightmares that would be impossible to wake from. To you, it was a dream.

His aura, and appearance on that stage. You were enamored with his attitude. His thick accent, strumming his guitar as his eyes bored into yours. This was one of the few times you didn’t mind that you skipped class for.

After the concert, you went to refill your water bottle before your walk back to your apartment in the damning heat. You saw him, drenched in sweat, guitar on his back, hunched over, and visibly upset that the water fountain was not doing it’s job. He looks in your direction, his expression making you anxious. Yet, you were still willing to help. You essentially escorted him to your dorm, where the water system was in a decent condition. He had pretty strong opinions about the education system and society in general, though you did appreciate his intellect.

“It’s a load of tosh for ya’ to pay so much for a piece of rubbish.” 

The ways he seemed so sure of himself more often than not made you intrigued, and he was more than happy to indulge you, being nearly distracted from the fact that Satan decided to sit his bare ass cheeks on the Earth that day. He gave you his number, and from then on, he would come see you whenever you both had the time, which was rough, considering the current mess that was your life. He was the only person you felt cared enough to step you out of your comfort zone. 

The night walks on campus, your medusa piercing that he compliments all the time.

“It accentuates your features. Peng ting you are, yeah?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, a deep chuckle erupting from his throat

“Means you’re hot.”

He gets it. He gets you. And sometimes, you thought that maybe what you were feeling would never go away when you’re with him. Your hangouts were more often casual, leading to more intimate moments, mentioning him to your family, and him teaching you how to play his guitar. You began to feel it linger, when you knew you both didn’t want to say goodnight.

The immediate thought of it also breaks you.

You’ve felt that he’s been dodging you and your attempts to reach out as of late. It’s been weeks since you’ve last seen Hobie, and this time, he initiates to meet. It’s late in the night, and he’s late. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this mad at him, or if you ever got upset with him at all. You didn’t like how he started to drift away with no explanation, and instead of anger, you were filled with worry, wondering if the time you were spending together was beginning to put a strain on him. You paced around your living room, muttering words and contemplating sending an annoyingly long paragraph of a text that would make it seem like you were dumping him.

“S’mitten for me, are you love?”

You looked up at your window, the tall brit leaning on the emergency stairs, making himself at home as you pulled away.

“In your dreams, Brown.”

He walks up to you, his lanky frame hovering over you so expectantly. You looked down at your feet, almost embarrassed of your newfound feelings, and you feel even more giddy when he stands close to you. He knew that you liked him, but teasing you was his second favorite pastime besides hanging out with you. You walked away to your kitchen, grabbing an energy drink for the both of you. Silence did not exist when you were together, and the awkwardness of it all was not helping. He bit his lip, his teeth caught in his piercing. He knew he was in trouble.

“I know you’re upset.”

“Hobs, you were supposed to be here 2 hours ago, I understand being busy but I thought you were seriously hurt or something”, you exclaimed, turning away from him. Showing up late was a recurring issue with him, and you’ve had just about enough.

“Oh don’t get cheeky now. You’ve been neglectin’ your studies. A bit daft if you ask me.”

You’re eye twitched at his use of his slang, sometimes you didn’t always need him to explain to know that what he was saying had negative connotations.

“That’s none of your concern, it’s you I’m worried about.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he smirks. There wouldn’t be a point in arguing with him about this, handing him his drink, turning on your television, starting the episode of your favorite series where you had both left off.

You sat farther away from him than usual, occasionally glancing in his direction, and unfortunately, he was staring right back at you, even more intense.

“I don’t bite, unless ya’ ask,” he teases, softly patting a seat closer to him, and you oblige. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy to see him, and he chuckles at your annoyed compliance. It was becoming an awkward staring contest, and you quickly lost track of the media playing on your screen. You open your mouth, just out of curiosity.

“So, how’s life treating you?”

“Fighting fascists, new piercings, performin’, ” he looks over to you, taking another sip of his drink, awaiting for a life update on your part. You bit your lip, anxiety getting the best of you. Despite the closer proximity, you still felt to far away from him. He sighs, using his leg to move your body to face him. You quiver, tears threatening to spill from your face once again, but you still looked up.

He looked at you, seeming nonchalant, but you still felt the worry in his aura.

“I know you want me to squash it, but it’s obvious s’omething bigger is bothering you,” he softly speaks, his thumb circling into your knee. “You act as if you’re scared of somethin’— of someone.”

Hobie scoots closer to you, using guiding your chin to make you look at him directly for the first time tonight.

“Talk t’me.”

You shake away from him, that feeling in the pit of your stomach only becoming more intense.

“I can’t tell you everything, Hobs.”

“But you can tell me anythin’, yeah?”

You look up, his face was close to you now, not realizing that you were nothing leaning into each other the more you spoke. His hand, slowly sliding to your hips, slowly stroking your stretch marks that your shirt wasn’t covering. You looked into his eyes, a small smile showing.

“There she is,” he exaggerates, giving you a soft squeeze, and you let out a giggle. The moment was yet again, cut short by that annoying ass beep from his wristwatch, that has interrupted your meaningful conversations countless times. Hobie curses from under his breath, backing away from you, the light illuminating his flawless features. And just like that, the moment has passed. His eyes look up to you, disproval in your expression, and you knew what was coming next, so you did it for him.

“Just go.”

Hobie let out a deep sigh before apologizing for what felt like the thousandth time, knowing he would do this the next time you make an attempt to make time for each other.

But this time, you were going to figure out why.

—

As soon as he had left, your senses went off. And this was the last time you were going to ignore them.

You had quickly went off into your room after he left, frantically throwing around your belongings to find your suit before Hobie got too far from you. You had followed him, all the way to an one of the abandoned buildings on campus that was currently under renovation. You stood behind a slab of concrete, peeking from the side, watching as he walked through a portal as if it were just another day.

But you saw, and now you knew. Your suspicions proved you right once again.

You flicked your wrist, webbing into the portal before it closed in on you.

And now, there you were, caught by Hobie after catching your ankle so you wouldn’t plunge to certain death after following him through his portal, seeking nothing but a dark abyss before you, seeming bottomless.

You turned towards him, a smirk plastered across his face.

“I fuckin’ knew it.”

You webbed free from his grip, finding ground. You looked at his appearance, and now you knew why he wore such familiar colors. Your suit hugged your body, adorned in your favorite colors, riddled with black accents. Hobie looked you up and down, whistling in admiration, while you took in your surroundings. HQ did not look like this at all when you first arrived.

“Place look familiar?”

You had brushed yourself off, taking in the countless people that had suits similar to yours. The unique design of the interior, and many, many, familiar faces.

“The Spiderverse.”

“Hey I call it the same thing!”

You turned in the direction of the speaker, a young boy standing in front of you. He had a black suit, red accents riddled across, two other spider men following behind you, staring at you in admiration.

“I’m Miles!”

You were still floored by all that had occurred in just a few moments. Slowly, you raised your hand, waving to the kid, smiling at him.

“Hi Miles, I’m [Name].”

“Oh, Hobie! Did we get a new recruit?”

A spider woman in a white suit walked up behind him, her pink hair flowing, and eyes that could manipulate a way to your heart.

“I’m Gwen, and this one here Is Pavitr!” Both greet themselves which such joy to see you. You almost felt as if you were back home, introducing yourself to who seemed to be Hobie’s colleagues. You expected him to be upset with you for following him, or keeping your identity as spiderwoman a secret, or vice versa. Yet, he’s seeing you in a new light, a personality that didn’t exist in your world. You would only ever smile like this if it was truly something or someone you cared about. You both would know that.

“Alright kids, follow me!”

The voice felt all too familiar, the oozing confidence in her demands making you cringe instantly, and you turn to see no other than Jessica Drew herself. You stared blankly, a sigh of irritation, your bubbly personality disappearing almost instantly.

“Jessica..”

She started at you, her face turning into a small scowl before turning back around, motioning the group of teens to follow her, but not before throwing a day pass in your direction. It was hard for them to pay attention when they were too focused on your sudden change of demeanor. Hobie walked beside you, brushing against your hand to catch your attention.

“What’s the tea with you two, ey?”

Your side eye is critical when you look towards him, signaling that you didn’t want to talk about it. He grunts before shrugging it off, still walking close to you. You watched Miles as he introduced himself to everyone, completely enamored with his surroundings. All that you could conclude from this, is that he was new. But while he was looking at everyone else, they were all looking at you. You heard the mutters and whispers amongst them as the HQ went into a deafening silence. You could feel Hobie’s gaze on you, sliding his arm around your waist for comfort.

“Piss off. Go back to what you were doin’.”

Quickly, they did what they were told, but you could still hear the voices of some conversing about you. And Hobie could hear it too.

“I didn’t think they’d let her come back.”

“Maybe they caught her sneaking in, they did say she never gave her watch back.”

He looks to your side, still silent as he watches your body tense up from their words. Maybe he wasn’t the only one acting dodgy.

You look ahead, looking at the lair that belongs to the man you used to call your boss. You felt Hobie release his grip from you to catch up with Miles, watching closely as he walked around him, fidgeting with materials and grabbing small objects. The young teen seemed stressed about something, making you just as anxious. You heard him expressing his frustrations about not having a watch, Hobie suggesting to Miles that he make his own.

You had forgotten how big this room was, and you wished it was longer by the time you got to the main event. He descended from his pad, multiple screens could be seen, one of which you could see showed your last conversation with Hobie at your apartment. Miles and Gwen walked up to him, Miles eager to introduce himself, holding a small box of food. Hobie held you back, watching you stare at the sight before you in amazement.

The moment quickly dissipated once you saw the Miguel everyone knew, his violence showing its face rather quickly, throwing an item in Miles direction. With quick reaction, your web caught onto the object, throwing it to a forgotten corner, showing yourself to him. He chuckled, his expression gleamed with frustrations and anger.

“I knew you would be here.”

“Your favorite disappointment could never miss out on a good time.”

Glaring at one another, everyone could feel the tension, so thick it was possible to cut it with a knife. Hobie watched from afar, reading for whatever should come next. That is until you felt the joyous cries of a child, turning to see a grown man in a pink robe. Instantly, you felt a wave of tears washing over you, Peter calling your name as soon as you ran into his arms.

“I missed you kid.”

Miles shared the excitement, walking up to Peter, also capturing him in an embrace. Miles looked at you in awe once more, wondering how you knew him.

“He was my mentor.”

“That’s crazy, me too!”

You heard Miguel groan, echoing throughout the room, Peter ignoring him, and telling you and Miles to do the same. You once again here the coos of a child, looking in the direction, a baby crawling across the wall. You excitedly exclaim with Miles, “You had a baby!”

Peter laughs sheepishly, yelling for his daughter, telling her to make sure she kept her day pass on, clearly in her own world.

Once again, the atmosphere changed dramatically, Miguel stepping down from his pad, Miles following, both engaging in a rather lengthy conversation about canon events. That’s when you started to shake, Gwen and Hobie looking at you with worry. Still, you held your ground, listening to Miguel explain the Spiderverse to Miles, the timelines, and the unfortunate events that occurs to just about every Spider-person. You saw the young teen grow anxious, beginning to mention his dad, and how he becomes captain in just a few days. Miles grows impatient and restless, and arguing that he shouldn’t sit here and let his father die. Miles looked to his colleagues, searching for confirmation. They all looked away, proving the timeline to be correct. Miguel turns toward you, motioning Miles to look in your direction.

“Your friend here believed the same thing.”

You felt everyone’s eyes on you, feeling as small as Miguel once made you feel. You looked at Miles, ready to hang onto every word you as you began to open your mouth to speak, but you looked away.

“Go on, tell him, [Name].”

You sucked up your sniffles, having to relive that memory constantly felt dehumanizing.

“I….I had a friend, who believed the same thing you did. She wanted to be able to save her parents, to be able to do both, and live the perfect life.”

You felt your chest tighten, yet urged yourself to continue.

“I ended up getting her killed, and destroyed her Universe.”

You heard Miles let out a gasp, you looked to Hobie, his eyes wide, and you couldn’t decipher his emotion. Miles turned back to Miguel, demanding that he be returned home. He refused, locking him in. They had all began to walk away, apologizing that it had to end like this. Well, not on your watch, but it seems that Hobie beat you to it.

A flash of light, knocking everything and everyone on their ass, you chuckled at the gesture. Miles was still in shock, quickly recovering, running off into the headquarters. Miguel runs after the kid, everyone following behind. You felt a arm wrap around your waist, a portal opening. Before pulling you both through, Hobie declaring his standing with the league.

“And for the record, I quit.”

—

You were back in the comfort of your own home, dressed in your lounge clothes, while your suit in the washer. Hobie had flew you home, as there was no reason to hide it anymore. Now, it was an uncomfortable silence, the two of you haven’t spoke since you left the headquarters. Hobie was getting ready to head out, his back turned to you, but not until you made yourself clear.

“We can’t come back from this.”

You looked up, his eyes staring back at you as he turned to you. The moon illuminated his smile, responding casually.

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

And then he was gone, and you didn’t know when he would be back.

Or if he ever would be.

Installation (2/5) : ‘Piss Off’ — Released!

‘Just For You’ Masterlist for previous/future installations

-

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