#so sorry to the people following the ones they left behind

[sidthedollface2]

Something Old and Something New

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (Rhys sister)

Summary: Rhys tells Azriel to back off Elain and find release at a pleasure hall. Instead, Azriel finds you, Rhys' younger sister. 

Or

The Princess of the Night Court becomes Azriels rebound. What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: MDNI 18+, ANGST, hurt/no comfort, cheating? (not really tho you'll see), smut (p in v, oral, fingering) no use of yn, nicknames, drug use, alcohol.

A/n: I’m back from vacation and decided to do this one shot in between crown fit for a god. I really don't like using yn (its me not you) so every one of my fics will have a nickname but its still x reader. I’m sorry in advance if this hurts you. Anyway, enjoy. :)

“You will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.” 

Azriel hadn't slept in weeks. The weight of his shame suddenly became too heavy for his illyrian shoulders. You weren't supposed to be this magnetic and he wasn't supposed to stick around this long. He told himself it was just going to be a quick fling, someone he could spend the night with and try to forget about her.

 But you had always been in his company. Ever since you became of age he thought you were stunning and entirely too good for him. You were afterall Rhysands younger sister. The female version with equal power and even more beautiful. Graceful when needed, mostly among people of importance, and always polite and kind like a princess should be. You were a Princess for the people, earning the citizens trust and walking among them like each and every person was your friend. It was no secret why they preferred your company to their High Lord.

Your amethyst eyes were now engrained behind his very own eyelids, everytime he closed his eyes for the night, they shot wide open. The image of you under him all those nights and the soft moans as he took you to bed in the shroud of darkness. He really didn’t know how it happened, mostly, he blamed it on the alcohol. One night after Ritas was all it took for him to be obsessed, seeking you out when his loneliness threatened to consume him.

Azriel’s panting mixes with your own moans as he pumps himself inside you. The delicious drag of his thick cock leaves you breathless under him. His touch is gentle as he cups your cheek, his hazel eyes never leaving yours as he imagines forever in your arms. “You're so beautiful. Can’t believe I get to have you.” He coo’s as he trails soft kisses down your neck, nipping and biting your flesh, careful to not leave any marks. Your hands card through his dark waves, back arching off the bed when his lips attach to your pebbled nipple.

Kissing and biting at the fullness of your breasts, soothing away the love bruising he left on them previously. His scarred hands feel like silk when they roam the soft curves of your body, lighting a fire within you with each and every touch. Knees dig into the bed as he grips your hips, still completely sheathed inside you. He moves your body against his, matching the velocity of his thrusts. Deeper and deeper. One arm wraps around your waist while the other rubs tiny circles on your clit. His eyes never leave your beautiful face as his favorite part comes to life right before him. Your head is thrown back, mouth agape as pleasure builds in the pit of your stomach. “Oh fuck Az, don’t stop.” Azriel’s eyes sparkle with wonder as you fall apart beneath him. Toes curling as the force of your orgasm takes over all your senses. Azriel follows soon after. His pace stutters as your name falls from his lips with a groan. Spilling his seed into you with slow thrusts, ensuring each drop doesn't go to waste.

 “You were so good for me baby,” he smiles as he peppers your face with kisses. Azriel pulls out with a hiss and you giggle into the covers when his toned ass walks to the bathroom. You pout adorably when he returns wearing a pair of low hanging pants, and a warm cloth in his hands. “None of that love. I’m all yours and very willing to give you seconds and thirds,” he waggles his eyebrows and nestles between your legs. No shame or embarrassment from neither of you as he gently cleans you up. In between his gentle wipes he places a loud kiss to your core, “so fucken pretty.”

“Pink or Red?” He asks, looking through your assortment of panties, imagining how you'd look wearing the lacey ones. “Black.” Is all you reply and Azriels grin widens when you pick the lacey ones. 

He insists on helping you get dressed, pinching your butt and digging his fingers in your sides, making you giggle. You swat his greedy hands away. knowing it's just an excuse to keep touching you. “I’m not going to let you help me next time, all you do is tickle me,” you joke, knowing very well you couldn’t keep him away if you tried. “Fine. I won’t tickle you next time,” he says, crossing his arms with a sly grin on his handsome face. 

“You said that last time, and the time before that too.”

Like a true Royal he fed you ripe grapes from the vine, watching intently as you parted your mouth for the sweet berry. Azriel licked his lips when your mouth wrapped around the fruit, making you chuckle as you pulled it off the stem. “When you said snacks this is not what I had in mind. I was thinking more like dessert.” 

“Then you should know what to expect. Now come to bed, and snack with me.” Azriel moves to lay on the bed and opens the covers. Patting the space next to him with the palm of his hand, beckoning you next to him. You don’t have to be told twice, because this was without a doubt your favorite part. Like clockwork Azriel requested all your favorite snacks and without hesitation the house delivered.

“You just had dessert baby,” he teased with a shit eating grin as he gestured to his cock. You couldn’t help the snort that escaped from the back of your throat, causing you both to burst into fits of laughter, giggling like children. Who knew the shadowsinger belly laughed so openly. Something he only did with you. Once your laughs died down Azriel indulged you with a sweet treat. Again offering to spoon feed you, taking every chance to lick frosting off your glossy lips or fingers. 

By the end of the night you couldn't believe how sore your cheeks were from laughing so hard. Azriel had this charm about him, and you couldn’t get enough. You draped your arm over his toned stomach. Head nestled against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his strong heart, a melody you loved to fall asleep to. He held you close to his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair, “Goodnight baby,” he whispered. 

“Night Az, I love you.” 

Silence. 

Azriel didn’t sleep that night. Neither did you. You didn’t expect him to say the words back, because he’d shown you he loved you in his actions alone. But his coldness afterward was unexpected. He laid still under you. No longer stroking your hair, or rubbing small circles on your back. It was like all the air had left his body yet the rhythm of his heart increased, hammering against his chest with the ferocity of a freight train.  If he felt your saddened tears fall on his chest he didn’t mention it, too caught up in his thoughts to console you. 

But now all his thoughts were of you and how quick your love had turned bitter when he didn't respond after you had said those three words to him. 

He was an idiot. Because he did love you. At the very sight of you his heart beat wildly in his chest. He wanted to spend every waking moment holding your hand and kissing your perfect lips. Fall asleep with you in his arms only to be awoken by your feminine beauty.  But Rhysand was unaware that you two were in a relationship. Were you in a relationship? He never asked. Wanted to. But he didn’t. He couldn’t imagine a day where Rhys would accept him as your lover. Rhys had been furious that he wanted to sleep with Elain, threatening him to no end. He couldn't imagine the anger if he were to find out that he turned his efforts to you instead. There were only a few things Azriel was scared of. Rhysands fury if he were to ever find out he’s been sleeping with his sister. And losing you. Those sort of went hand and hand didn’t they. 

You woke up alone the following morning. Thinking that your confession was too much for the shadowsinger. And perhaps you were just one of his many conquests added to the long list of females that warmed his bed. For as long as you knew Azriel he only had casual flings, nothing of substance. No one he introduced to his family. It made you feel stupid. He made you feel stupid. Hoping that you were the one he could call home. Someone he could envision spending the rest of his life with. You could forgive him for not saying ‘I love you’ back. That didn’t stop you from loving him and that didn’t mean he didn’t care about you. Because surely he did right? 

Right?

It wasn’t just that though, you had overheard Azriel tell Cassian sleeping with you was a mistake and that choosing you to be his rebound hadn’t worked out for him. “She said she loved me. It’s just all wrong. This wasn’t how I wanted things to go between us-” You didn’t bother hearing the rest of the conversation. Azriel’s words left your heart gaping, a wound so large you were afraid no one could mend it.

You had missed the importance of his following words, how Azriel wished he had done things right with you. Courted you the right way, with flowers and lovely dates to the finest eateries. Taking things slow at first, holding hands and sweet kisses under the moonlight. You didn’t hear Azriel explain that you had become more than he ever expected, more than just a rebound. He wanted a life with you. Now and forever, just you two and the family he always wanted.

You’d both move into a beautiful house just along the Sidra where you’d spend hours decorating every room to your liking. He’d soon marry you in front of all his family and friends, wearing the finest gown that glittered brighter than the night sky. During the mating frenzy, because of course you were his mate, he’d be sure to fuck a baby into you. And if his seed didn’t stick he wouldn't stop until your scent shifted to one of a pregnant female. He just hoped that Rhysand would give his blessing. 

Now everytime Azriel tried to seek you out, you were nowhere to be found. Like you had just vanished from the Night Court, even though the other members had interactions with you. You suddenly had no time for Azriel. The citizens of Velaris saw you less and less and when they did, your time spent was cut in half. Your joyous laughter no longer echoed the halls of the House of Wind, instead Cassian and Nesta’s not so secret sex romps were becoming more frequent. You had changed your entire schedule to avoid crossing paths with the shadowsinger. 

You no longer spent your mornings having breakfast with Rhysand and Feyre, instead you woke up earlier than usual and held your morning breakfast in the library. 

 “Why are you having breakfast here and not with Rhys?” Azriels hazel eyes took you in as he neared, noticing your tense shoulders. Closing the book in your hand, now finished with your chapter, you stand and gather your items into your bag, “was just catching up on some reading.” You don’t meet his gaze, the sight of him too painful for your heart to bear. “You haven’t been training with Cassian either,” he continues. “Or shopping with Mor. You haven't exchanged books with Nesta and,” Azriel towers over you, his breath fanning over your cheek at his closeness, “you haven’t warmed my bed.” Your eyes finally meet his, a look of desire in his warm eyes as his hands come up to cup your face. A glance over his shoulder has you pulling away from his touch as Elain enters the library, her soft voice dancing along the walls, “Hi Az.”

He ignores her completely, doesn’t even spare her a glance. But your eyes travel from her to him and back again. You see the fondness she has for him in the flush of her cheeks and the way her voice sings as she calls his name.

Memories of their subtle interactions come crashing into your mind. Her shy gaze whenever he walked in the room. The slight brush of fingers when they crossed paths, his lingering gaze when she exited a room.

He’s not yours, and you're not his. Never was, never will be. It dawns on you then that all the soft touches and lingering glances were never sincere but simply a ploy to get Elain jealous. Everytime you made love to him you gave a part of yourself, hoping he would accept you with open arms and an open heart.

You had hoped you were the only one in his life that made him throw his head back, eyes closed shut in ecstasy. But it's clear now when he closed his eyes he saw Elain riding him instead, not you. She was who he really wanted and you were just a placeholder. The rebound. 

He knows you well enough to tell when you're about to fall apart and now is one of those instances. It clicks for him now why he hasn’t seen you. Azriel catches your arm before you dart away, his touch gentle yet firm “you're avoiding me.” He says, worry etched all over his face as he attempts to pull you into his chest. “I’ve figured it out so you can stop pretending to care about me now.” A tear escapes your waterline and Azriel reaches to thumb away the hurt that he's caused.

You don't give him the chance as you swat his hand away and turn to make your exit. He’s panicking now watching you practically run away from him, as you hurry to get away from his presence.

A wound so intense suddenly opens within his heart. With no other option but to just blurt out the first thing that comes to his mind to keep you close. “I adore you!” he says breathlessly and waits for you to run into his arms so he could kiss you silly. When you turn around to confront him, Elain comes up from behind him and wraps her arms around his middle in a tight squeeze. A picture perfect couple you think to yourself, her innocent personality and bubbly nature a lovely contrast to his tall, dark and handsome. Azriel can’t pry her arms off him in time to chase after you before you rush out of the library, traces of your scent still lingering in the air. 

You run and run you're not sure for how long, just long enough till your tears are dried tracks along your soft cheeks. You find yourself in the arms of your brother, clutching his shirt in your closed fist as you loosen the cries that held your throat hostage. “Hey hey, what's wrong?” he coo’s pulling away just enough to see the heartbreak etched in your pretty face. “Send me away please Rhys, I am begging. I never ask anything of you, it doesn’t have to be forever, just a few months.” Your shoulders are shaking violently as you continue to wail into his chest, the intensity of your cries cracking the high lord into submission. “Are you sure, love? I can fix-” 

“No! There's nothing you can do.” 

Rhys nods, winnowing you to a secret cabin that sits along the border of The Night Court. “Just tell me this. Are you in any danger?” he asks, “because I know Azriel and Cassian or even myself will-” 

You wince at the mention of Azriels name, “I’m not in any danger, brother.” You assure him as you settle on the couch in front of the hearth, pulling a warm throw over your body and curling in on yourself. “Good, that’s good. I’ll talk to Kallias. He has someone he wants you to meet. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind hosting you for as long as you need.” Rhysand takes one last look at you, studying how unhappy you look, hoping you can confide in him your troubles, whatever they may be. You lay bundled under the comfort of the blanket, your glossy eyes staring into the flames of the fireplace. It’s heat providing a comfort you wish was someone else's. 

Azriel enters your room frantically searching for you, but he gasps and stumbles back when he sees Cerridwen packing your belongings. “Where is she?” he asks, his voice tense and panicked as he grips her by the shoulders. “I’m afraid I don’t have that information.” 

“Why are you packing her stuff then?” He starts shaking her shoulders, as if it would quicken her answer. “She’ll be visiting the Winter Court and Rhysand requests her favorite items to be sent to her.” 

You were running away from him, when all he wanted was to run toward you. Azriels world shattered completely. If you weren't here to live beside him then he had no interest in living. He had been too complacent in being in the now and not once had he initiated to be something serious. Now he was left with longing. 

That same night Rhysand made accommodations for you to stay in the Winter Courts Palace. Kallias and Vivienne were more than happy to have you stay with them. They were quite eager to introduce you to their son Kit. Hoping that with time you’d become great friends. Kit was the spitting image of his father. His white hair styled to perfection, with not a single strand misplaced. Chiseled cheekbones and a sharp jaw, pouty lips with Icy blue eyes to match his cool demeanor. His eyes trailed your beautiful curves as he bowed, taking your hand within his, placing a tender kiss to your delicate knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Princess.” 

Your violet eyes met his and for a moment his pretty face made you forget about your heartbreak. Kit extended his elbow to you and without a second doubt you linked your arm with his as he led you to see the beauty of his Court. 

You spent the next two weeks in the company of the future Heir. Kit remained a respectful host. Introducing you to his closest friends, a welcomed change of personalities compared to your friends from home. Each evening he’d join you for dinner. Offering a different restaurant each night in hopes to expand your palate in order to get a feel for your favorite foods.

During your brief stay you opened up to him and told him of the situationship you had with Azriel. You explained to him what you overheard Azriel say and how stupid he made you feel after you confessed your love for him. “I finally saw the way he looked at her and it broke me more than it should have, because I remember when he looked at me the same way.  I heard him tell Cass that I was just the girl he picked to get over her. I never meant anything to him. Yet this whole time it had been real for me and I foolishly fell in love with him.” 

“Oh sweetheart, you deserve to be someone's first and only choice. You’re a Princess of The Night Court, if anyones the stupid one It’s him for not seeing how incredible you are.” With the end of his sweater sleeve, Kit wipes away a stray tear that escaped your waterline. His gentleness is a stark contrast to the ice flowing within his veins. “Besides I hear there's a handsome Prince looking for a warm heart to thaw the coldness in his soul,” he smirks playfully, rocking on the heels on his feet, a look of innocence in his crystal eyes. Your sweet giggle transcends into his favorite song and he makes it a mission to hear it often. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel was tearing himself apart from the inside out. By the third day of being plastered and starting fights with innocent bystanders; Rhys had pulled him off missions until he sobered up enough to function.  All that did was give him a larger drinking window. He visited every winery and brewery in Verlaris, sometimes even forgetting how he got there in the first place.  Drowning in bottles of liquor till he could barely stand, let alone fly or walk or do anything for that matter. Tonight was different from the past two weeks, as he decided to smoke his problems away, alcohol no longer providing the high that made him forget.

 The strain for tonight was Mirthroot laced with Amnesia Haze, a hallucinogenic that could either make your deepest wish a reality or make you completely forget your life's problems.

Azriel couldn’t remember how he got up the steps to the house of wind. He couldn’t remember lots of things as of late. One thing he’d never forget though, was your scent and the way you made him feel. So when he opened the door to the house and your sensual perfume hit his nose he almost fell to his knees with relief.

You were finally home. He could explain himself and tell you that he loved you and that you meant the world to him. Azriel followed your scent like it was second nature. His shadows excitedly rushed up stairs towards your bed chambers, leaving him slightly confused because you were sitting at the kitchen Table.

Your hair was long in flowy waves down your back, a little longer since the last time he saw you. It hadn't been that long had it? It didn’t matter, all he wanted was to hold you in his arms again. Keep you safe in Velaris where you belong. Azriel slowly approached you, his breath shaky as he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Vi?”

Violet, the nickname you were given for your stunning eyes with various shades of purple and blue. Your eyes met his and you smiled, “Hi Az.” 

“Gods I missed you,” he admitted as he pulled you up from the chair, enveloping you in a warm embrace. You were slightly startled at how tight he hugged you. Inhaling your scent deeply as his nose nuzzled against your neck. “I’m so sorry, for everything. Please forgive me?” Azriel cupped your face between his scarred hands, angling you to look up at him. His pupils were large and dilated, a gaze mixed with sorrow and lust.  Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Az? What are you talking about?” 

“Come here, I need to tell you something.” Azriel lifted you onto the kitchen counter, earning a small yelp from your lips. He settled between your knees, making your thin night dress pool around your hips. His hands remained on your exposed thighs, rubbing them softly to keep you warm. His eyes never strayed from yours, like he couldn't believe you were actually here. “I made a mistake and should have never let you feel like you were the wrong choice. I don’t care what Rhys says anymore. I want you.”

His hands inch closer to your center, a silent request to touch you as the other brings your lips to his in a steamy kiss. You nod into the kiss, giving him permission to touch you. Azriel pulls your panties to the side, easily coating his fingers in your arousal, groaning when he feels how wet you already are from his kiss alone. 

Your breath catches when he slips his fingers inside and curls them in a come hither motion. “Oh gods Az, I’ve dreamed of this moment,” you pant into his mouth, needing more of him, anything he's willing to give you’ll take. He then rubs tiny circles on your clit, making you throw your head back so hard it slams against the cupboard in a loud thud. White flashes behind your eyes as your orgasm crashes over you, a giddy smile plastered on your face from the pleasure he's given you. 

You hop off the counter, eager to return the favor. Palming his cock, you notice he's barely hard, a groan escapes his mouth as you fumble with his belt. You pull Azriels pants down along with his underwear, pooling at his ankles, his cock still not fully erect. Your small hand grips him at the base, making him hiss. He sways side to side, eyes closed as he concentrates on getting hard, something he's never had to do before. You pump his shaft. Once. Twice. And then you wrap your lips around his cock and suck, the warmth of your mouth excites him and he stands at attention, finally. “So the rumors are true,” you coo.

“Fuck baby, your mouth feels so good. I Fucken love you.”   

Wait. What rumors?

“Azriel?” 

Azriels eyes fly open. You're standing in the doorway, shaking like a leaf in the wind with a  hand over your mouth. Sobbing loudly into your hand, tears blurring your vision as they escape your waterline. Heavy drops fall to the ground and the only sound heard is the unmistakable ‘pop’ as the female on her knees releases Azriels cock from her mouth.  

Azriel blinks rapidly, shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the haze he's in. He looks down to the female, stuffing his cock back in his pants as she's scrambling to get up. 

“Elain?” he chokes out her name, tears welling in his eyes as he stares at her, devastation in his wide eyes  as he realizes what he's done. What he did to her thinking she was you. His eyes turn to meet yours again, but he only catches your dress billowing as you turn around and run. Your loud wailing echoing in his ears like a hammer to a church bell.

“Vi wait! Please. It’s not what you think!” He yells, rushing past Elain as he sprints after you, needing to reach you before you winnow away.  His heavy footsteps pound against the tile floors, waking up the rest of the inner circle. Just as you're about to reach the knob Azriels arms wrap around your middle, pulling your back to his chest. You both crash to the ground from the force of Azriels tackle. His back meets the hard floor in a loud slam, cushioning your fall. “Let me go!” You plead, kicking and  clawing at his arms that are tightly wrapped around you. “Sshh, baby please. Listen to me.” his voice cracks as he tries to calm you down, “I love you, I love you so much. I thought she was you!! Please believe me!” 

Your voice slices through him, like a dagger to his already bleeding heart. “I hate you!” You scream out in anger, venom lacing every word as it hits its mark. “I hate you! I fucking hate you!” 

Darkness envelops the entire room, It’s cold mist threatening to devour anyone who so dares to defy its power. “Azriel, release my sister before I sever those hands off your body.” Rhys stands at the bottom of the stairs, his power bouncing off him like flames of a fire. The rest of the inner circle gathered around him, watching in horror as both males stood off in a staring contest. It’s Azriel who wavers; finally releasing you to shuffle away from him. 

Azriel sits on his heels, a subtle submissive pose showing respect to his High Lord. “Rhys, I’m sorry. I’ve been in love with your sister for some time now. Too cowardice to tell you or her,” Azriels gaze falls on you. “I’ve been a mess since you left. Masking my pain with alcohol and drugs, which is no excuse. But tonight I took a hallucinogen, and,” his chin wobbles as he tries to hold back his tears, “I made the biggest mistake of my life. I know I’ve lost you, and you will never forgive me. However, I need you to know, in front of everyone, that I have always loved you. I will always love you.” 

Azriel lowers his head. The flood of emotions finally pulled him under the surface, drowning him in his own misery. Fat heavy tears break from his eyes; landing in scattered drops along the floor beneath him. This pain is all consuming, torturous in its own vile way. Tearing at his heart shred by shred, a disastrous mess all by his own hands. A lonely scarred heart to match his scarred hands. Hands that once held the most precious gem, a rare Violet beauty; now only hold the memory of a lost love. 

When Azriel lifts his head to see your face for the last time, he’s once again too late. Fear latches onto his ankles like a heavy chain, anchoring him to the bottom of the sea. You’re gone. His darkness driving away your bright light, leading you into the arms of someone new.  

A/n: part 2 ? 🤔🤔

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fanfic #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar #winter court

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Consorts [Part 1]

The Ghoul|Cooper Howard x F!Bounty Hunter!Reader

Summary: Months back, the Reader and Cooper got in a huge mess after deciding to work together after finding out they were given the same bounty. Neither has seen each other since. Reader has been laying low in a far off settlement, working a common bar job just to make a living...

a/n: very excited to attempt another multi-part story for the first time in years!! for the record, I have only watched the show through once and I have never played one of the games sooooo sorry for any inaccuracies

~~~

You sat another glass in front of one of your bar dwellers.

It had been months since you even dared go outside this town. You hid your face anytime you were outside the walls of your dwelling. You were forced to lay low after your last bounty went south. Not only had you lost all credibility as a bounty hunter, but a giant target had been attached to your back by the group who you had wronged. There was no where safe for you.

Although your face had to be mostly covered, your job required a certain level of attracting customers. You would make sure to wear something rather revealing of your chest, along with skin tight pants. Making sure you flirted strongly with your eyes to attract more people to the bar.

A group of men who had been sat at a table for sometime all approached the bar at once. You could hear them mumbling something back and forth as glances were shot your way.

"Great," you thought, "Some moron got bet by his friend to hit on me." You rolled your eyes as you cleaned one of the glasses.

"Sweetheart," followed by a whistle.

Your skin crawled. Smug faces met yours when you turned around.

"What's a lady like you doing working in a place like this?" He cocks an eyebrow at you. You huff in response.

"Don't misunderstand now..." a click and suddenly all the men were pointing guns at you, "I want to know why you thought someone worth so much would be hiding in plain sight. We all swore you were smarter than that." You stared down the barrel of his gun.

You sucked your teeth, dropping your head to the side slightly, "Y'all're here for the money? I thought you were going to compliment a lady." Your gun is fired quicker than any of them can register. The man in front of you falls backwards, the others squatting down in fear. You take your opportunity and run out the back exit.

Your mind is playing every possibility of this ending. Gunfire dancing on the ground around you as the men chase you. You end up in the middle of town, firing your gun at them as they are hot on your tail. In a flash, the amount of people after you practically doubles. Your eyes widen as you attempt to find somewhere to hide. You grab a grenade off your belt, throwing it center at them.

While smoke surrounded them, you slid under and behind a large lean-to. You were on all fours, looking through the small crack in the wood. The men were scrambling, firing their guns in any and all directions. A fight was breaking out.

"FIND HER YOU IDIOTS!" One of the men shouted.

You heard more gunfire joining theirs. You knew it had to be some local fighting back. You scanned the area around you, seeing a small pathway that led to a more exposed part of the fort you had hidden in. You crawled, hoping it would lead you out.

"My, my," a familiar voice spoke above you. You looked up to see him staring down at you, his head cocked to the side. "Oh, sweet Jesus," one of your hands rubs down your face. "Longtime no see, doll," he grinned.

The infamous Ghoul. Few knew his name, fewer lived long enough to share it. The two of you had become more than acquainted in a prior mission gone wrong. The one that had left you both on the run.

He reached a hand out to you, pulling you up to your feet. "Didn't expect to see you here," he grumbled. You rolled your eyes, placing your back against his preparing to fireback together. You felt him turn his head slightly, "Y'know, I didn't take you for a brothel girl." Smugness was written on his tone. Your cheeks flooded with a slight embarrassment. He shifted positioning his lips directly next to your ear, "Took you for more of a cowgirl after last time." Heat radiated your body with his obvious innuendo. "People have to do things when they're on the run," you breathe out. He scoffed in your ear.

The Ghoul aimed his gun out, shooting and hitting one of the goons. "I'll get us out of this, but you've got to make a deal with me," he looked down at you. You crossed your arms, "What could you possibly want from me?"

"We're going to finish the mess you got me in," he pointed at you. "That I got you in? That isn't at all-" "I don't have time for this. You either take the deal or I leave you here."

You blew your breath out, "Deal." You gritted your teeth. His lip curved into a smirk, "That's a good girl. Now you stay here and on my signal come out." You nodded.

The Ghoul stepped out from behind the wooden building, whistling to get all the gunmen's attention. You watched as they all directed their attention towards him. Guns all pointed at him before realizing who stood before them.

"There's the other one!"

"That's the Ghoul they're promising a reward for too!"

"We could get double the money!"

The brim of his hat hid his eyes from them.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be, ghoul. If you just give us the girl we can be on with our way," one of them shouted.

"So you can come back and get me later? Not gonna happen," he pointed his gun at them, "I'm leaving here with the girl."

The man chuckled, "You're out numbered here."

The Ghoul shrugged his shoulders. He fires his gun at the giant water barrel suspended above the town. It tips over, soaking all the men in radioactive water. The Ghoul swiftly runs back to you, grabbing your hand and running off with you. You were quick on your feet following behind him.

You both run as fast as you can until the town is no longer in the distance. You slow down, attempting to catch your breath. Loud and obvious huffs leaving you.

"C'mon, Y/N. We've gotta keep going before they get smart." He gestured at you to follow him.

~~~

END//Part 1

[Thank you for reading!  If you are interested in being tagging in any of my writings don’t be afraid to message me!  All tag lists are open!  I have a master taglist and one for each character!]

Tags:

@mortuus-poet | @giggle-shade |

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout #fallout series #walton goggins #writing #fanfic #sexymonsterfics #part 1 #walton goggins x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader

[sillymilie]

Charles Leclerc imagine

In which you and your boyfriend go to a business party and two men try to seduce you.

Warnings: men trying to seduce you, a little bit of alcohol

Word count: 959

Dressed in all black accompanied with gold jewelry, you and Charles made you way to the entrance of the building in which you were invited to. Your fashion business had gotten really popular ever since it launched. You had already a decent reputation and Charles could only help with that. Of course, your boyfriend had advertised your business and you went really, really big.

Charles opened the door for you, as always, planting a small kiss on your cheek as you entered first. Everything looked amazing. Charles followed close behind you, making sure to not lose you in the crowd of people. You made your way to the reception, asking for directions to your business event.

"The room is gonna be on the fourth floor, on the right side. And also, just in case you need any more help, there are bodyguards present on the same floor as you're headed to. Have a fun time!" The receptionist smiled at us.

"Thank you!" You smiled at her, wrapping your arm around Charles', getting closer to him. He looked satisfied, but you didn't bother it and you made your way to the elevator.

"Fourth floor it is." You exhaled, feeling a bit stressed.

"Fourth floor indeed." Charles added. "Are you feeling okay?" He asked, lightly squeezing your thigh and looking down at you.

"Yeah, I'm just a bit stressed." You answered, letting out a sigh and looking down at the elevator floor.

"Everything is gonna be okay. We're gonna have a nice time. Plus, I'm here for you. If you want to go, just tell me and we'll get out of here anytime." Charles comforted you, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you towards him. He grabbed your chin and kissed your lips. You kissed him back immediately.

"Oh wow!" A man said, entering the elevator. You hadn't noticed the doors that had opened right in front of you.

"Sorry!" You said, pulling Charles out with you. You heard your boyfriend laugh behind you and you turned around. "That was really embarrassing."

"It was funny, mon amour. Kinda risky too. I loved it." (my love)

You rolled your eyes playfully and decided to go explore the floor a bit more. There were in fact some security guards near a small café corner. You looked around and made your way to a hallway that led to multiple rooms. On the left side were another business' name and on the right was your business logo with the name of it. You smiled and looked at Charles excitedly. He let out a small laugh and kissed you.

As you entered the party room, it was surprising how many people were there. You saw some of your employees in a corner dancing and talking all together. There was also a lot of people you didn't know because everyone could invite who they wanted.

"There's so much people. Do you know all of them?" Charles asked.

"Not at all. I only know a couple of them." You admitted.

"Let's go then, what are you waiting for?" Your boyfriend asked.

"Um, nothing! Let's do this!" You said loudly, exploring around.

You headed over to your employees and had a small talk with them. You really wanted to just go and see what there was in the room. You found it kind of weird that you barely knew who there would be and what there would be at your own business party, but you decided to still enjoy the moment. Charles wasn't with you anymore which you found good because you really wanted him to meet some new people.

"(Y/N)!!! COME OVER HERE!" One of your employees yelled, waving at you. They were sitting at a mini bar.

"Oh my God! What is this? There's a mini bar?" You said, surprised.

"YUP! Get a drink!"

You got yourself a drink and talked with your girls. All of you were having such a good time. You never wanted this to end. As another drink was ordered from you, two men sat down on seperate stools next to you. You tried your best to ignore them.

"Hey beautiful." One of the men said, placing his hands on the counter.

"I'm taken." You said, not looking at any of the two. You felt trapped, which was a feeling you absolutely hated.

"That's fine, your man don't gotta be aware of anything." The man in the back said, giving you a creepy smile. You didn't answer, trying your best to ignore them.

"Oh come on baby, talk to us." The man besides you said, sounding impatient.

"I don't need to talk to you whatsoever."

"Don't be like that, doll. I'll bring you back to mine. I can't wait to take your dress off and-"

"Who are you?" Charles asked, showing up behind you, looking at the men.

"Who are you?" The two men asked at the same time, eyeing you up and down.

"Come mon amour, let's get out of here." Charles said, helping you get up since you were a bit tipsy. You put your arm around his neck and you walked away. The two men watched as they sighed in disbelief. (my love)

"I hated that, a lot." You said as you watched the doors of the elevator close.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there faster." Charles apologized, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"It's not your fault. It's those men. They're weird." You replied.

"They are indeed weird, but I could've been with you to stop that. I'm so sorry." Charles apologized again, giving you small kisses all over your face.

"Don't be sorry. Let's just get out of here for good. I don't want to see them again."

"Of course. Anything for you, (Y/N)."

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #cute #f1 #f1 blurb #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x you #fandom #f1 imagine #x yn #yn #older man younger woman #romantic #romance #relationship #fanfic #delusional #writing #formula one #formula 1

[jeankluv]

I love you, it’s ruining my life - Geto Suguru

Words: 1,5k

Summary: You stood besides Geto for over a decade but despite loving him so much, it was ruining you.

Tags: heavy angst, canon, set during 2017-2018, blood, mentions of death, no happy ending, a bit of Gojo x reader but not romantic, no use of y/n, gn!reader

Notes: a request and a one shot in a single day, yep 🤭

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

When he decided to leave, you left with him.

More than 10 years had passed since then, you were no longer kids, you had changed. Even though there were mornings where you looked in the mirror and still saw the 17 year old student you once were. But when you looked at him, there was nothing left of that 17 year old boy.

You still loved him and you would probably always, but that love was consuming you.

But that day, you didn't see the 17 year old girl, what you saw in the mirror was a tired young woman, with a dull face and dark circles under her eyes. You felt like all your color was completely gone.

Existing your room, you walked through the hallway until you spot Suguru’s silhouette, I was talking to Miguel, apparently there was a course that Suguru was interested in obtaining. Passing by, you walked and saw a couple of people waiting for Suguru to serve them. Your heart was squeezed when you thought about the fate they would have.

You had accompanied Suguru for all these years, but you had never been able to agree with his ideas and until that day they continued to make you nauseous.

You sighed and went outside, where you sat on one of the benches there. In the distance you could see Tokyo and the memories of when you were a teenager began to come to you. Would you be there if you had realized earlier how Suguru was? If you had tried harder? If I had supported him more? Everything was what ifs... That they would never be, you answered and you could only imagine what could have been.

“You are here.” A deep voice, spoke behind your back. “Geto is looking for you.”

You stood up and nodded slowly. Walking towards where Suguru was, you felt your heart flutter nervously. You opened the door and found him sitting on his “throne”. When you entered you could see traces of blood on the floor. You turned your head, feeling the vomit rise in your throat.

"I'm sorry." Suguru murmured from his seat. “I thought it would take you longer so you wouldn't see the blood of that dirty monkey, but you came.”

“Suguru…” You tremble. “Don't you think that's enough…?”

"What do you mean?" He rose from his throne.

“What I mean…” Your heart fluttered. “Let's go Suguru, let's go away.” You approached him. “You, the girls and me. Far from everything…”

Suguru's gaze was cold. “Do you hear yourself?” He smiled zinicly. “Do you want to run away? After all these years? Of my progress? Don’t be foolish.”

“Suguru… please…” Your eyes stung.

Suguru snorted and moved away from your touch and it was then, seeing his back, that the boy who once swore he would love you forever, died long ago.

“I know you loved me.” You looked down. “But you don’t love me anymore.” Those words were heavy on you, it felt like stones being thrown at yourself.

“That’s what you think?” Suguru asked

“I don’t think that, it’s what it is, Suguru.” You held back your tears, not wanting to cry in front of him. “The only times we are intimate it’s when you want to have sex, the rest of the time… I don’t even see you because you are to focus on killing people.”

“Monkeys, those are not people, they are monkeys.” You shook your head trying to ignore his words. “Don’t tell me you don’t agree with what we are doing.” He approached you and you took a step back.

“I don’t think I ever did Suguru.”

“Then why? Why did you follow me?” His tone was clear, he was angry.

“Because I love you!” You raised your voice. “I love you Suguru, I always did. And you needed me back then… you needed someone and I… I couldn’t leave you.”

“So you never truly believed in what I was doing…”

“That’s what matters to you?” You raised your gaze facing him. “If I agree with what you are doing?”

“Yes!” He was the one to shut this time. “You were the… the only one who stayed and I thought it was because you agreed but it was because you loved me.” A hoarse laugh came from his throat. “You thought that if you came with me and with that love of yours I was going to change?”

He looked at you and you said nothing, because yes, your foolish self really thought it was going to be able to change him, to make him go back and try to find a solution to what he did. But you were a fool and even 10 years later you were still a fool, because deep down you were still hoping you could make him understand.

“I won’t change, I will never change, I will kill all those monkeys and create a world where only sorcerers exist.” He sat down. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

The first tear rolled down your cheek. “I love you Suguru.” You said. “But it’s ruining my life.”

Suguru stayed silent, not saying a word, not saying anything. This wasn’t the guy you fell in love with, years ago, that boy wouldn’t stare at you and do nothing.

You stepped away and turned around to leave the room. Before exiting the room, you look at him one last time.

“I love you Suguru, I will always love you.” You whipped the tears away and left the room.

After that last look, the days passed and turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months. Suguru never looked for you, you were alone. You couldn't go back to where you were once happy because that would doom you and you couldn't go back to the person you loved because she was long dead.

You looked up and saw the snow falling. The new year had begun with snow. You hugged your body and walked through the new streets of the small town you had moved to. There you could simply be you and help those like you who could see curses and didn't understand it.

“The ground is slippery over there.” A voice spoke behind you.

You stopped dead when you heard it, how many years had it been since you had heard that voice? You didn't even know it anymore.

You carefully turned to confirm that the owner of that voice was the one who was once your best friend. And indeed, a few meters away from you was Gojo Satoru. Taller than the last time he saw it that October afternoon. Unlike that time, his eyes were completely covered by a white blindfold.

“Satoru…” You murmured.

“You lost weight.” He simply said.

Ignoring his words, you went straight to the point. “Are you here to execute me?” You asked him, trying to pretend that your voice was shaky.

Satoru shook his head. “Why would I?” Before you could answer he continued. “There is no execution order for you, so there is no reason for me to execute you.”

“What?” You said stunned. "How is that possible? I spent years with him, they should…”

“You were never considered a threat like him and I asked them not to include you on the list of cursed sorcerers.”

You pursed your lips and nodded. "Thanks, I guess." You hugged yourself tighter, to stop yourself from shaking. “What are you doing here then Satoru?”

"He is dead."

Your breath caught and your heart skipped a couple of beats before it began to break. Suguru was dead… Suguru… You stifled a cry, not wanting to cry in front of Satoru.

“I’m sorry…” Satoru whispered.

“Why are you sorry for?” Your voice coming out like a whisper from your throat.

“It was me…”

And then a cold breeze hit your face.

You shook your head and looked up at the sky trying to stop the crying. “It’s what you had to do…” You heard Satoru's footsteps approaching you. “Did he say something before he died?”

“He gave me this.” Satoru took your hand and placed an object on it. “He told me he was sorry and that I love you until the last moment.” You carefully opened your hand, finding a ring.

You clenched your fist to your chest and began to sob. You felt Satoru's warm body wrap around you and try to calm those sobs that didn't stop coming out of you. After a few minutes, you managed to calm down and separated from Satoru.

“Thank you…” You said.

Satoru handed you a folded piece of paper. “My number and Shoko's are written down. Call us when you need it or if... if you want to come back there again. Yaga won’t care and if the old guys say something, I’ll take care of it.”

You looked at the paper and then at Satoru. “I'll keep that in mind Satoru… thank you.”

“Take care.” He said and turned around to walk off.

You saw his silhouette get into a car and then disappear. Opening your hand again, you looked at the ring again.

“I love you Suguru.” You murmured kissing the ring and letting once again your tears flow.

#geto suguru fanfiction #getou suguru x y/n #getou suguru x you #geto fluff #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk suguru #suguru fluff #fanfic jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x oc #satoru gojo x reader

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Right Time and Place

Summary: There's no time like the present.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut - this is just all smut. Pretty much zero plot to this porn. Unprotected P in V sex, oral (f receiving) vaginal fingering, size kink (kinda), Dean being a cocky little shit, Dean being a sweet bit of sunshine.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader (You)

Word Count: 1,726

A/N: K, I saw this little writing prompt earlier today and it inspired this smutty scenario. The prompt will be in bold, I changed it ever so slightly. Hope you enjoy it!! ❤️

P.S. I wrote this quickly - so sorry for the mistakes!

Master List

“This…is not…the right…time.” 

You pant into Dean’s ear as he sucks hard on a spot just below your jaw, leaving a purple bruise behind before he responds.

His voice is deep, rough and muffled against your skin. “Was there ever gonna be a right time?”

You try to answer but it turns into a gasp as he slides down the zipper on the side of your little black dress. It falls to pool at your feet and leaves you in your strapless black push up bra and matching panties.

“Fuck me.” Dean moans as his gaze sweeps up and down your body. “This is exactly the kind of perfect I knew you’d be.”

His words are slightly confusing to you and you don’t know whether it’s because what he said makes no sense or if it’s simply that your mind is spinning. This is the last place you’d expected to be tonight. 

For god’s sake -

“We’re in the middle of a case.” You finish your admonishment out loud. It loses its authority, however, when you end on a whimper. Dean is on his knees now in the large, walk-in linen closet that he’d pulled you into just minutes earlier. His teeth scrape your hip bone as he nibbles there and you try to protest again.

You’re supposed to be looking for a cursed object.

You struggle to find words as his mouth trails across your belly, his lips like silk, before his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

“I don’t even…I really don’t even like you.” The words are all breath as you sink your fingers into his short hair.

“Really, sweetheart?” You can feel Dean smirk against your skin before kissing a path over your hip, following his fingers as they lower your panties. He groans when he sees the way your pussy is glistening, wet and waiting. “That’s too bad, cause I really like you.”

He leans forward, licking up through your folds and your knees give out. But he quickly presses you back against the wall with one big hand flat on your stomach. His tongue dips into you, teasing your entrance, just barely pushing in the tip before pulling it out and flicking it against your clit.

You push a fist hard against your mouth to stop from screaming out the pleasure that rushes through you from head to toe. There’s a lavish gala party happening one floor below you and the last thing you need is people rushing upstairs to find out why someone is screaming. 

But Dean's mouth is pulling you apart, making you shudder and buck your hips forward. You sling your left leg over his tuxedo-clad shoulder, digging your heel into his muscled back and urging him on.

He takes the hint and one of his thick fingers slides into your quivering cunt. A choked sound of need falls from your throat and Dean chuckles.

“How ya like me now, baby?” He teases, his breath hot even against your overheated skin.

You shake your head. “You're such…a complete…idiot.” You pant.

Dean pulls his finger out of you and takes his mouth away to look up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Want me to stop?”

Your body trembles at the mere thought of it; as much as you and Dean bicker and shout at each other there’s no denying that sparks have been flying between you from your first sight of him. You'd been fantasizing this moment for months and you knew you'd never survive him walking away now.

You shake your head at him. “Never.” You tell him succinctly. “Don't ever stop.”

You buck your hips forward again and give up all pretense of resistance, pushing your heel into his back once again. “Please, Dean, fuck me.”

You watch Dean's emerald eyes darken as his pupils dilate. “If you say so, sweetheart.” 

His mouth is immediately back on you, sucking your clit into his mouth as he shoves two fingers deep inside you.

You cry out, the sound loud and keening. You know you’re running the risk of someone hearing you, but you can't stop the sounds every time Dean swipes the rough pads of his fingertips across your g-spot. 

You reach towards him and pull his bowtie loose and then yank it from around his neck. You shove the silk material into your mouth just in time to muffle your shout of ecstasy as Dean quickly and easily rips your orgasm out of you. He continues to suck on your clit, and tease your sweet spot all through your bone-shaking release.

While your whole body is still trembling, Dean stands up, and pulls the bowtie out of your mouth so he can kiss you, the tang of your pleasure still clinging to his lips. 

You shove his black tuxedo jacket off his shoulders, pulling his crisp white shirt free from his dress pants as he unzips them and pushes them down. You try not to rip the buttons on his shirt - you know the tux is a rental. 

But by the time you get to the last few, your fingers are too desperate to touch his warm, taut skin and you just rip the shirt open, hearing a couple of the buttons scatter across the closet floor.

Neither one of you cares very much, though, as you finally get your hands on his muscled torso and he lifts your leg to his hip. You can feel his hot, hard length rubbing gloriously through your folds before he grabs his cock and guides it smoothly into your welcoming heat.

Your hands are gripping his shoulders under his shirt and you dig your nails in as he bottoms out. He's stretched you so wide and is pressed so deep that it almost hurts. You tense up slightly and he stops moving inside you. He pushes his free hand between your bodies, pressing against your clit and circling his middle finger there. 

You thump your head back against the wall and roll it back and forth, mumbling nonsense, your brain scattered.

Dean frowns and catches your chin in his fingers. “I can't understand you, baby, and I need to know if I'm hurting you. I'll stop if you want.”

But you’re shaking your head before he finishes. “No, fuck no, Dean. Please don't stop. I just need a minute. You're so fucking big.”

The concern in his eyes melts into cockiness and a smirk hitches the corner of his mouth.

“Sure, sweetheart. Take all the time you need.” 

He continues to press his hard middle finger against your overly sensitive bundle of nerves and despite the smug little grin he wears now, his earlier concern and his willingness to stop in the very heat of the moment, burrow their way into your heart and you know you won't be able to root them out.

As he presses harder on your clit, your body explodes into nothing but nerve endings and burning bliss. Your cunt squeezes Dean's fat cock, buried so deep, and he groans harshly, his face buried in your neck. His fingers squeeze into the thigh he's holding against his hip, pressing so hard you know he'll leave bruises.

And yet, he still doesn't move inside you. You asked for time and he's giving it, even though you can feel how rock hard he is inside you.

Inexplicably you feel slightly choked up as you pull his head up from your neck and slot your mouth over his. His lips are so soft, and so sensual they make you shiver. Pleasure shoots to your core as he sucks gently on your top lip.

Finally, you whisper against his lips. “You can move now. Please move now. I need you, need to feel you fill me up over and over.”

Dean groans and pulls out of your body so he can slowly push back in. He keeps the same steady, slow pace, pushing and pulling against your clenching walls until you can't take it anymore.

“Faster Dean! Please, I need you faster and harder.” You mewl against his shoulder. 

Dropping your leg, he pulls out of your body. Before you can properly protest the loss of him, he's spun you around and bent you double. Your hands are braced against a step stool beside a shelf full of towels and toiletries.

He kicks your feet wide and then reaches around to stuff the bowtie back in your mouth.

“You'll probably need this again.” He says, his voice cocky once more.

You think about pulling the tie out and throwing back some kind of witty barb, but your words fail you completely as he slams himself home, his cock head perfectly hitting your sweet spot. You do indeed need to muffle the noise as he repeats the move, and leaves you shaking and screaming with want and need.

In a mere four or five strokes you're climaxing again, your cunt clutching and milking his cock as you feel him slam bruisingly against your cervix and then spill deep inside you. 

You're both shaking from the force of your climaxes as you take the silk cloth out of your mouth so you can pant easier. 

Dean slowly pulls out of you with a deep, barely suppressed moan. Your muscles feel too weak to move, so you're in the same position as he grabs a clean cloth from the shelf and uses the soft cotton to clean up the mess he left behind.

Finally he tosses the cloth into the hamper a few feet away and helps you stand up straight. Then he grabs your panties and helps you step into them. 

He runs his fingertip along the top of your bra. “Never even got to see these beauties.” His pout makes you laugh.

You make him groan as you reach forward to grip his now limp cock, marveling at the way it still twitches in your hand. 

“Well, like I told you, now isn't the right time.” You grin mischievously at him. “So what do you say we finish our job so you can take me back to that bunker of yours and we can take all the time we want?”

Dean's bright green eyes light up like a kid at Christmas as he rushes to pull his pants back on. “Fuck yeah. I'm gonna make you like me yet, sweetheart.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester one shot #writing prompts

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter Eight

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.5K

idk why this one has some big paragraphs, i got carried away lowkey

Series Masterlist

Everything had changed now, hadn't it? She'd kissed Charles and now everything was wrong. Or was it right?

Ber emotions had never been this mixed up before, she hated it. Part of her didn't want to go back into work, could face him. Or Arthur, for that matter. But Arthur hadn't done anything wrong and she couldn't let him down like that.

As she got ready to head out to the club, there was a knock at her door. She pulled it open quickly, her clothes for tonight's performance half shoved into her bag. "Can I help you?" She asked quickly.

But then she saw who was standing at her door. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Charles," she said, voice thick. "What're you doing here?"

He held up a plastic bag. "I brought you dinner," he said.

"Oh." She let out a breath. "Well, I don't have time for dinner, sorry. I've got to perform tonight."

He nodded and stood to the side as she walked out of the apartment and pulled the door shut behind her. "Of course you do," she said. "I'll go with you."

She couldn't exactly refuse him, could see? Not that she wanted to. Or did she? Ugh, everything was so confusing! And nothing sucks more than not knowing what you want.

She didn't say much as she walked down to the lounge, Charles following behind. She held the door open for him and followed him in, around the tables and towards the back room. "Do you have time to eat before you go on stage?" He asked as he laid the containers of food out on the table.

It was far too much for two people. Bottom lip pulled between her teeth she looked at the clock behind him. "I've got five minutes. Can we eat after my performance?"

She'd never seen Charles Leclerc, the Charles Leclerc, look so dejected before. Part of her seriously thought he was going to pull out his gun and aim it straight for her chest. But he just nodded his head. "No, yeah, of course," he said as he shoved the containers back into the bag.

This wasn't Charles Leclerc, not the Charles that had come to her for piano lessons. This was a shell of the man she had found herself both scared of and attracted to. Had she done this? Was it her kiss that had turned him into this... husk of himself?

She sucked in a breath as she turned to walk away. But there was that voice in the back of her head, telling her to turn around and do something. So what if she was a little bit late for her set? What would Arthur do, kill her? Not if she didn't put on her heels and ran like hell.

She let out a huff, one that had Charles looking up (one that he certainly wasn't supposed to hear), as she dropped her bag. She pushed the door shut and turned to face him, her hands on her hips. "I want you to kiss me."

Charles looked at her, his expression entirely confused. "Huh?"

What the hell wasn't he getting about this? "Charles Leclerc." This was taking all of her bravery. "I want you to kiss me. Like, grab my face, stick your tongue down my throat and all of that."

That was all it took for Charles to stride across the room. His touch was gentle as he moved her back against the door. His hands cupped her face as he leaned it.

He pressed his lips to her own. His tongue didn't immediately invade her mouth like she had said. No, he was gentle as he moved his lips against her own, as he parted her lips and licked inside of her mouth. It was so fucking sweet, but it was set by Charles. He stole the breath from her lungs as he kept her pressed against the door.

Charles pulled away, but he kept his forehead against her own, breathing heavy as his thumb moved over her cheek. "Don't you have a performance to get to?" He said and pulled away.

His cheeks were flushed as he pulled her away from the door and left the room. She couldn't help but smile as she checked the clock and quickly got changed into her dress.

As she ran towards the stage (still in her trainers), she caught Arthurs glare. But she could do little more than grin as she paused at the edge of the stage, straightened herself up and walked over to the piano. Her shoes were too quiet on the floor as she walked.

Charles was in the first row, watching as she sat down. He grinned when he saw the look on her face, her smile that could only be described as dopey. Her fingers hit the notes as she began a song. But, within a few notes, she was messing up, apologising to the crowd and starting again.

This was the affect Charles had on her. He watched almost her entire performance, only getting up at the end. But he got up to walk into the back room, to wait for her.

At the end of her performance, Charles heard the claps from the crowd. He could picture it now, as she stood up, bowed and rushed off the stage.

Heading back to him.

She rushed into the back room and shut the door behind her. "So, what were those dinner plans?" She asked as she picked up her bag and began pulling out a sweatshirt.

When she had her clothes out of the bag, she looked at Charles. Asking him to turn around, it was embarrassing, but she deserved this little bit of privacy. Gone was that confidence when she'd asked him to kiss her, her performance had taken it out of her.

When she made the request, Charles turned to face the wall. She attempted to be hasty as she pulled down the zipper of her dress and pulled her sweatshirt over her head. She quickly stepped out of the dress and pulled the sweats over her legs.

"You can look now," she said, shoving everything into her bag.

Charles pulled out the seat beside his own. She left her bag by the door and sat beside him, immediately reaching for the food. "Fuck," she said around a mouthful, completely forgetting her manners. "I was so damn hungry."

A laugh, a genuine, bubbly laugh left Charles's lips. "I can see," he muttered. But then there was a gentle touch to her cheek as he brushed her hair back.

She released a breath, head falling forward. "Charles," she said and he pulled away. The way she turned towards him, the way she looked into his eye, his every nerve was on fire, and he was terrified. (A man that didn't get terrified. This was the power she had over him. That, more than anything, was scaring him). "What are we doing?"

"Having dinner," he answered quickly.

He had hoped for a laugh of some sort, for her to see the humour in his answer. But she just shook her head. "You know that's not what I mean." She put her food down and wiped her sweaty palms on her sweater. "I can't sit here and pretend I haven't heard the stories about you. How goddamn terrifying you are. I can't pretend I didn't have to listen to Arthur complain about how loud you are with a different girl almost every night." She didn't miss the way his face dropped. "What am I to you? Am I challenge, because of how resistant I was?"

"No! God, no," he answered quickly. He pushed his hair back, away from his eyes. "Look, don't ask me to explain it, because I can't. But, for the first time in my life I don't want to fuck you and get the hell out of there as quickly as I can. For the first time in my life I want to kiss you. And kiss you again. And again. And maybe forever."

It wasn't an answer, not really. Charles knew it wasn't what she was looking for, but he couldn't offer her anything else in that moment. The way she released a breath, he didn't know if it should have scared him or filled him with elation.

But then she looked at him, looked right into his eyes. "Good," she said, smile crossing her face. "Because I want to kiss you too." She leaned in close, until she was almost touching his lips. That small bit of distance between them, it was agony. But she didn't push forward, and it had Charles on the edge of his seat, filled with curiosity.

Her hands were in his hair, scratching at his scalp in a way that almost had him moaning into her mouth. But then she spoke. "No more of this moping around because I kissed you first, okay?"

Charles rolled his eyes. "That's not what happened." He'd practically pulled her into his lap, his grip on her hips tight. When she tugged on his hair, it really did dislodge a moan from his lips. "Okay, fine." He leaned forward, finally closing that gap between them.

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[x0xomady]

sex, drugs, etc.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

summary: it’s 1980 and harry styles is the biggest rockstar around. life is full of drugs, music, and girls. that is until he meets his flower.

warnings: drugs abuse, smut, cursing, pet names, degradation, alcohol. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

show today. show tomorrow. shows everyday.

that’s all life is. one big fucking show.

sure this is the life i wanted. i have all the drugs i could need, sex every night, and better yet i’m making music i love.

it’s just all so damn tiring.

i haven’t been able to sleep for more than 4 hours in months. there’s always another girl and another line i’m chasing.

here we go…

i grab my red electric guitar and walk out on stage. immediately the stadium erupts in chants and cheers. but i don’t care.

there’s girls flashing me, people jumping around, my band mates playing loudly. everything is overwhelming as hell.

the show goes by quickly. i zone in and before i know it we’re walking off stage.

i probably have dissociation problems or something but… it’s like when i’m on stage… i’m not even there mentally.

i’m not anywhere mentally. i’m always in my head

when the band started a few years ago it was so different. everything was so exciting and new. i was so into it at every who no matter what. now i’m lucky if im not absolutely wasted on stage.

i walk down the halls of the backstage completely out of it. there’s people slapping me on the back, handing me shit, and girls asking for a hookup.

i should probably say yes to one of them.

my thoughts are starting to get out of hand when i feel another, smaller, body run into mine.

“oh! i’m so so so sorry!” the small girl stumbles back and blushes brightly at me.

i’m about to cuss her out and glare, when i notice how cute she is. this girl couldn’t be taller than 5’6, she was wearing a little pink frilly skirt and a white tank top.

however, i’ve seen this before. slutty girls going around dressing all innocent and sweet so that guys will be into them. i have experienced my fair share of fake innocent girls.

“where you heading flower?” i smirk down at the girl. she was looking up at me nervously. a faint blush was painting her cheeks and neck. cute.

“o-oh! you’re harry from the band?” she asked with a worried look on her face. i watched her manicured fingers clutch the little notebook she was holding tightly.

“that’s me. who might you be?”

“i’m y/n! i was hired to interview you- and uh-” she stuttered as i leaned down a little to hear her better. “i would really like the chance to talk to you… if right now doesn’t work- i can find another time!”

fucking media girl. should’ve known. i would usually flip them off and walk away, but i’ve never met one this attractive. i couldn’t help the way my eyes wandered from her fluttery doe eyes down to her lips. she was wearing sparkly lipgloss and i just wanted to have a taste.

“now is fine.” i nod at her and smirk while watching her eyes widen and a small smile spread across her lips.

“oh that’s great thank you!” she had a sweet little smile on her lips that was tempting me.

i nod and start walking to my dressing room. i can hear her little kitten heels tapping lightly behind me.

we walk into my dressing room. there is a black couch in the middle and a rack of clothes on the side. i have a bottle of whiskey on the table and some pill bottles that my band mates must have left there.

i turn back towards y/n and see her nervous little eyes search around the room. she follows me so obediently it’s adorable.

“sit flower” i nod and her to sit on the couch. hesitantly she sits down on the black leather couch. she clutches her notebook closely and looks up at me nervously with those big doe eyes.

“s-so… harry… um can i start by asking you a few questions?” y/n asks. poor thing. she was so nervous. i can see the little pink splotches across her smooth skin.

“ask away pretty girl”

she clears her throat and sits up looking at me. “so… what’s your favorite song of the album, and why is it your favorite?”

“i like ‘kiwi’ a lot” i shrug and allow my eyes to wander her delicate little body.

“kiwi? i love that song!” she smiles sweetly and writes down in her little pink notebook.

i smirk and nod. “thanks flower. i’m glad someone so sweet looking like you likes such a dirty song.”

y/n instantly blushes but tries to brush it off as if it was nothing. she sits up a little more and looks back up at me. “o-okay. and what is you play guitar correct?”

“right. i play guitar, piano, and bass.” i nod at her and lean back against the couch.

“wow three? that’s so impressive.” she smiles sweetly at me. fuck. “and what’s your favorite of those three?”

“electric guitar probably.” i shrug and take a swig out of my whiskey bottle. she writes down in her little notebook and continues asking questions.

for the next 10 minutes y/n asks me about my music interests, inspirations, and other typical interviewer questions.

if i’m being completely honest my answers were total bullshit. i was so caught up in staring at her that i was just kind of saying whatever came to mind.

y/n has the most gorgeous little face i’ve ever seen. her lips looked fucking delicious. i just wanted to-

“harry? are you alright?” i snap out of my daydream when i hear her sweet little voice asking me a question.

no. i want to fuck you.

“yeah i’m fine. what was the question?” i ask looking back up at her fluttery eyelashes and big eyes.

“oh i was just asking how your dating life is on tour. it must be hard to connect with someone if you are constantly traveling to different cities.”

“my dating life hm? it’s just fine.” i shrug and lean forward resting on my arms on my knees.

“so do you have a girlfriend at the moment?” aww she is so naive. her little purple pen writing down every word i say as she looks at me with interest.

“i don’t no. but i do have a pretty little interviewer sitting in front of me” i smirk and lean forward towards her.

y/n’s eyes instantly widen and her face turns a light pink. she looks absolutely speechless at my comment.

“o-oh. uh” she stutters and looks at me nervously.

“hm? you like it when i compliment you flower?” i smile and look at her in the eyes.

“harry- ”

“yes pretty girl?”

“what are you- ”

“i’m just trying to talk to you. is that okay?” i smile innocently.

“yeah…” i see a small smile tug on the corners of her glossy lips.

“good come here.” i sigh and lean back against the couch. my hand makes a motion telling her to walk over to me.

y/n looks hesitant at first but she nervously walks over to me and stands a few feet in front of me.

i reach my hands up and grab her hips gently. she blushes wildly and stands there unsure.

“what in the world is a delicate little thing like you doing at a place like this?” i say while my eyes drag down her body. that white tank top was doing nothing to hide her body from me.

“i- im just here for an interview- ” she stutters out and gasps quietly when i pull her so she’s standing in between my legs.

“that’s it? just an interview? you don’t want anything else flower?” i smirk.

she nods hesitantly and stands there as i squeeze her hips gently.

“mm but i could give you so much more. don’t ya want something?” i say looking up at her.

“j-just an interview” she nods and looks at me nervously.

i nod and trail my hands from her hips to her slender waist. “so can i have something from you?”

“what do you want from me?” she asks unsure.

“i want a kiss”

y/ns face drops slightly and her eyes widen. “y-you want a kiss from me?!”

“course i do.” i shrug and continue leaning back while admiring her. “come on flower… just give me one kiss.”

y/n takes a deep breath before leaning forward and giving me a cute little peck. she pulls away quickly blushing brightly and looking flustered as ever.

i smile and put a hand on her head bringing her back to kiss me again. i deepen the kiss, wrapping y/n closer to me and slowly pulling her onto my lap.

y/n let’s out a little gasp of shock when i pull her so she’s straddling my lap. her hands grip my shoulder for support as i wrap an arm around her waist.

“such soft pretty lips.” i mumble and push my thumb against her lips softly. “can i do something for you flower?”

y/n nods quietly and watches me carefully as i grab her hips again.

as soon as i get the confirmation i pick her up and lay her on her back against the couch. y/n lets an adorable little sigh leave her lips as i kneel in between her legs.

i lean forward so i’m hovering over her. y/n puts her hands in my hair and pulls my head down to kiss her again. i moan against her lips and adjust my arm so im holding her hip and jaw tightly.

y/n moans softly as i kiss down her jaw and along her neck. “h-harry”

“yeah?” i smirk and kiss her collar bone softly. goosebumps fill her skin as my kisses make their way from her jaw to collarbones.

“i-i need you to” she hesitates and looks at me nervously.

“hm? what is it you need pretty girl?” i smile knowing damn well what she wants from me. “i can’t read your mind y/n… gonna need you to tell me what you want.”

she breathes a little heavier and blushes from the eye contact i make with her while kissing her chest and collarbone. “i want you…”

that’s it

“yeah? need me? well if you want me that bad then who am i to deny such a gorgeous girl.”

i waste no time in reconnecting our lips while pushing my hand down to her little skirt. y/n moans softly against my lips as i rub her waist gently and kiss her one last time.

“gonna let me take this cute little skirt off?” i smirk and kiss her neck again.

“yes… please harry…” she whines softly as i suck a little mark on her neck.

“oh if you insist flower.” i say grinning against her neck. my hands desperately tug down her flouncy skirt. i shove it down her legs and throw it to the side. underneath is a cute little pair of pink panties. my mouth instantly waters at the sight.

y/n blushes wildly and closes her legs nervously.

“oh nuh uh. none of that.” i tut and grab both of her knees pulling her legs apart. i can see the sweet little outline of her lips underneath that pink lace and it makes my knees weeek.

y/n laid there nervously as the intimidating rockstar stared at her most delicate parts with a hungry gaze.

“fucking need you flower…” i moan and lean my head against her knee. “gonna let me?”

y/n hesitated for a moment but then nodded eagerly as i leaned against her thigh.

i smirk and kiss her thigh. the kisses lean from her knee down to that sweet little pink lace. continuing to keep eye contact with the media girl underneath me, i pressed a gentle kiss to her clit. the lacy material did nothing to shield the feeling on her little button throbbing for me.

immediately i kiss her in that spot again but a little harder. y/n tries to close her legs again out of sensitivity but my hands hold her thighs apart.

after a few more kisses to that dainty little fabric, i hook my fingers in the waist band and tug the pink lace down to her ankles.

i look to y/n for consent once more i wait until she nods. as soon as i see that nod im on her. my fingers spread her apart as i press kisses along her slit and puffy little clit.

y/n gasps and moans softly as her legs squeeze my head tightly.

my fingers run along her slit as i wrap my lips around her throbbing button. i wait until she’s dripping before i nudge my first finger into her hole.

“damn it flower. you’re so fucking tight how is this possible?” i groan and pump my middle finger in and out of her pussy slowly.

“please harry- need more!” y/n moans desperately and tightens her legs around harry’s curly head.

as soon as i hear those pretty whines leave her mouth i add my second finger to her wet cunt.

y/n’s orgasm doesn’t take long to arrive. after a few minutes of sucking against her clit and pumping her full of my fingers she starts clenching hard.

“how’s it this tight? fucking he’ll flower” i groan against her and continue sucking harshly.

with the stimulations from my mouth and hand i feel her clench tightly and cum around my head.

i smirk up at her and get up from my spot between her legs.

y/n whines from the loss of stimulation between her legs which just makes my grin grow even more.

“aww poor baby. want me to fuck you?” she nods and wraps her legs around my hips. “and her i thought you were an innocent little flower. guess i was wrong”

she moans softly as i grab my cock and press the head against her clit. i look up at her as i run the head from the tip to the bottom of her weepy hole.

“harry please” she whines and pushes her hips against mine.

without warning i start easing the head past her entrance. “fucking hell- tightest pussy i’ve ever felt.” i moan and push my hips to the hilt. the feeling of her squeezing me is euphoric as i reconnect our lips.

“move please harry- please move” y/n moans and presses her hips up to mine.

i grab her hips and start moving in and out of her hard. my hand down snakes down her soft skin until i reach her little button.

“cmon flower i want you to give me another one.” i moan into her neck as i thrust up into her cunt quickly.

y/n moans desperately and fucks her hips up against mine as i thrust quickly.

i grab her hips roughly and flip her onto her stomach. y/n pushes her hips up to mine. “yes! please harry more!” she moans pathetically as i slam my way back into her tight cunt.

“so fucking dirty.” i groan as i snap my hips into hers. “here i thought you were some innocent little media girl.” i smirk and thrust against her hard.

“g-gonna cum!” she moans into the couch pillow as i rub her clit quickly.

“yeah? good girl. cum for me.” i thrust into her one more time before she tightens like a vice around me.

“fucking milking me aren’t you? fuck.” i groan and pull out. my hand wraps around my cock and i tug it quickly using her juices. my release hits me quickly as my cum paints her soft thighs.

the two of us sit there panting for a minute before i wipe my forehead and look back up at her.

“still got that little journal of yours?”

“yeah.” she nods and hands me the pink note book and purple pen.

i smirk and write my phone number on the first page.

“Call me flower”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

love my rockstar bf

-xoxo ⋆⭒˚.⋆

#harry styles smut #harry styles #one direction #harry edward styles #dom harry styles #x0xomady #wattpad #fanfiction #sub!harry #fluffy #harry styles x reader

[envysparkler]

Everything was too loud.

Everything was too loud and…spinning somehow, the lights of the club swirling sickeningly around him.  He—he was here with someone—he was supposed to be—everything was too hot and there were people pressing against him and his skin was crawling.

He needed to get out.

He needed to—something blared in the back of his head, shrieking a warning, but he—there was a door.  Outside.  Away from the crush of bodies and the sharp scent of alcohol and the way everything was getting a little fuzzy.

He’d definitely had too much to drink.

He wasn’t—he didn’t even remember—why had he come here?  Something about—spite and sadness twisted up inside of him and—he’d wanted to—to do something—and—

Air.  Sweet, blessed, cool air.

Tim staggered out, letting the door swing shut behind him and muffle the pounding bass of the club.  It was a cold night, and Tim shivered—he was wearing a thin shirt and skinny jeans, not at all dressed for the weather, but the cold was enough to wake him up a bit.

Not enough to help him walk straight, and Tim groaned as he leaned against the brick wall of the alleyway.  He’d only had two drinks, and he already felt like absolute crap.  Fuck.  At least his goal of forgetting this past day and passing out was a success, he was already…losing track…of his surroundings…

Fuck.

Tim tried to push upright, and the alleyway swam around him, the brief jolt of panic failing to clear the fog.  This wasn’t the alcohol.  This was drugs.

But he hadn’t—he’d been careful of his drink, he—he remembered turning away, but only for a second, he didn’t, no one could’ve—he wasn’t—

His head was spinning, and Tim rested his forehead against brick and tried to remember how to breathe.

He should—should call someone.  Tim patted his pockets before remembering that he’d left the phone at home, fed up with Bruce’s paranoia.  No panic button either—not that that would’ve helped, Batman was off-planet and Nightwing was on a mission.

Steph—Steph would help, and Tim curled his hands against the wall as he tried to think.  Steph was—was inside, with the pounding beat and the people and it was too hot inside but he needed to tell Steph he’d been drugged.  He had to.  He had.  He—

That sounded like the whine of a grapple.  But Batman wasn’t supposed to be here.  Was he?

Tim pushed away from the wall, vision swimming as the ground roiled beneath him, and—and that was a red helmet.

Even the drugs couldn’t stop the sudden lance of pure terror.

He didn’t hear the footsteps, but he felt the hand fisted in his collar, and he felt the brick digging into his back as he was pressed against the alley wall.  The mechanized voice was difficult to follow with his head so fuzzy, but fear forced his attention to focus.

“—the fuck are you doing, Replacement, you’re sixteen and you’re fucking drunk in the middle of Gotham, I can’t believe that B didn’t even check for some basic common sense when he went trawling for new sacrifices—”

Tim couldn’t suppress the soft whine as Hood shook him, making the world spin hazily around him again.  The red helmet was now far too close to his head, and he couldn’t do more than blink, shivering, his arms unwilling to raise.

“Are you on drugs?” the distorted voice sounded pissed.

Hood’s rules were clear—no drugs to kids.  Which meant that Tim was in even worse straits than he’d calculated.  “S—sorry,” he stuttered, but he got shaken again, the world tilting around him.

“Sorry?  What the fuck is sorry supposed to mean, you fucking—”

The roar of the club’s music cut him off, and Tim stared blearily at the back door—let it be Steph, please, he wanted Steph, he’d seen what Hood did to the dealers that sold to kids and he didn’t want to be beaten up again, especially not when he could barely even lift his head.

It wasn’t Steph.

It was a group of men, maybe three, maybe four, it was too hazy to make out.  He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but they sounded annoyed.

Hood’s hands tightened on his shoulders, and then loosened.

“You called dibs,” the distorted voice said, the crackling evenness somehow worse than the growling rage, and Tim blinked at him, confused, but the red helmet was tilted away from him.  “Dibs on what exactly?”

Something from the hazy figures, and a burst of raucous laughter.  Hood let go—Tim’s legs were jelly and the ground refused to stay in one place and the brick dragged painfully against his back as he slid to the ground.

“Oh, I do know what you mean.  I just wanted to hear you say it.”

That sounded like gunshots, Tim noted distantly, but the world was fading out.

#my snippets #tim&jay etc #drugged #implied noncon #there's only a few things jason hates more than the replacement #unfortunately for these guys they found one of those things

[kori-xo]

A Baby

Loki x Reader Oneshot

(Summary: Loki and (y/n) get left with a baby. Now they have to take care of it for the next few hours.) 

————————————

Chaos reigned over the city as a man with the ability to seemingly manipulate small portions of stone and cement tore holes into roads which out of control cars fell into. Street lights were thrown around by the cement they were connected to and people - not many - were suddenly impaled by various stone spikes.

As you looked around at all the chaos and bloodshed, out of the corner of your eye you saw a woman and her baby running towards you. Adrenaline running through your body, you quickly ran to her, “Ma’am follow me, we’re guiding evacuees to the statehouse-“

"No, no, there's no time," the woman frantically answered you, her eyes filled with immense fear as she looked down at the baby in her arms, which was starting to stir and cry. 

You looked at her in confusion. 

“Please.” A sob fell from her lips, making her next words strained, “Take her.”

You furrowed your brows, confused even more until she carefully brought her daughter from against her chest and handed her to you.

"Keep her safe for me. Please." 

Just as you had taken a hold of the swaddled up baby, you heard a gravelly voice come from behind the frightened woman. 

“I’ve finally found you.”

She had barely even let out a breath before a stony spike was protruding from her chest.

You jumped back instantly, putting your hand behind the baby’s head in both support and instinct.

"Guys," you breathed shakily into the earpiece, struggling to process what had just happened in the previous few seconds. "I need-I need backup over here, I have to go back to the Quinjet."

“Do you need first aid treatment?” You heard Cap ask

"No…but I have a baby." 

"I'm sorry, you have a what?" Tony says incredulously. "Where on earth did you get a baby?"

“I mean I got it here-“

“NOT WHAT I MEANT.” You heard Tony sigh into the earpiece. “Just…Get back to the Quinjet." 

You ran to the jet and as you got closer to it you saw the back open and Loki was standing there ready for whatever situation had happened

Though he certainly wasn’t expecting this.

“What in the name of Helheim are you doing with a baby?!” He asked quickly.

"I don't know, it all happened so fast," you argued back, running into the Quinjet as quickly as possible to make sure the infant was in a safer place. "One minute, I'm trying to help a woman out, and the next, she's handing me a child that I have no idea what to do with, then dying right in front of me!” 

"Well, I suppose that's one way to run away from your responsibilities," Loki mutters. 

You deadpan at him before sighing and wiping sweat off your forehead. As you lower your hand to readjust how you are holding the infant, you see thick blood covering the back of your hand, no doubt from the mother.

Horror dawns on you as you see that you’re covered in it, even the thick blanket the baby was swaddled in. 

Seeing the panic on your face, Loki quickly used his seidr to clean the blood off both you and the child in your arms. “Alright, let’s see what I can do for now..” Loki said, looking around the jet for anything he could use to comfort the infant so that someone wouldn’t have to carry her until they got back to the tower. 

"Can we make a makeshift crib somehow?" You suggested. "There's gotta be a wide enough basket or crate somewhere in here. It won't be as comfortable, but it'll be something for now."

"It could work," he replies. "Possibly." 

As Loki started rummaging around, trying to find the suggested materials, the infant started to sob. You quickly looked back down, moving to sit down on one of the ledges so that you could place her on your lap, gently bouncing her up and down while shushing her in a soothing manner. “It’s alright.. It’s alright.. Sshhhh…”

Your motions calmed her down little by little, until eventually, she was sitting comfortably in your lap, her head resting on your chest as you stroked her head gently.

Loki had found an empty crate at the front of the jet and had brought it back to give you it. His eyes softened at the sight, and he smiled lightly.

As you looked back up to him, he felt his breath get caught in his throat. Frozen, he had almost forgotten what he had come to tell you; he cleared his throat, “I- Er- Found a crate.” He said, holding it up. “Obviously.”

He put it next to your feet and reached his hands back, taking off his cape and folding it to cushion the infant in the crate. You carefully lowered her into it, wrapping the soft fabric of Loki's cape around her for comfort. 

"What do we do now?" he asks, not taking his eyes off your movements. 

"Well…think it's safe to say she doesn't have anyone else to take care of her," you admitted, sitting back on the ledge. "Maybe…we could." 

"Us?" His eyebrows rose incredulously. "Darling, I don't know if you could tell, but neither one of us knows the first thing about taking care of a child." 

"That didn't stop you from having like, six of them." The look on Loki's face was the definition of a deer caught in headlights. "Yeah, I read the books." 

"That's- that's completely different," he argues. 

"Please, Loki," you pleaded. "It's not like we'll be doing it by ourselves. Everyone in the Tower can help if we need it. And I'm pretty sure the majority of them have interacted with and know how to take care of a kid." 

Loki contemplated your reasoning for a moment, and although he was about to protest again, the sight of you returning to the baby's aid and cooing it back into a peaceful silence made his heart soften. 

How could he possibly say no to you? 

"...Alright," he sighs. "We can try." 

Your face immediately lit up as you gave an elated nod and smiled. 

+++++++++++++++++++++

“So, let me get this straight,” Tony began. “You were helping civilians evac, a random woman hands you her child and then drops dead in front of you? Is this how we escape our responsibilities nowadays?”

“That’s what I said!”

“Loki,” you hissed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Look, Tony, I know you don’t think we’re the safest-“ 

“I know you’re not the safest.”

”But we can take care of her, I promise!” 

“You, who’s never touched a baby in her life-“ 

“I’ve touched a baby before,” you frowned. 

“Today doesn’t count.” 

“Oh.”

“And him, who doesn’t need to be 5 kilometers near a baby.” 

Loki crossed his arms in offense. “I beg your pardon? I’ll have you know, I’m excellent with children.”

“Yeah, he’s got about 5 of them,” you mumbled under your breath, earning an elbow from Loki. 

Tony blinked, then shook his head. “I-…don’t even wanna know how. Or why, for that matter. Look, I suppose you two can take care of the kid until somebody can come and collect her, okay?”

Your face lit up immediately. “Thank you, Tony!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “Don’t make me regret it.” 

You gave him a quick “deal” before you carried the baby up to your room, which was vacant most of the time, given the fact that you’d practically moved into Loki’s room. 

“We can make a spot here for her,” you suggested to Loki. “Maybe push that stand out of the way and over onto this wall? And put a crib in its place?” 

“Where would we put her necessities?” He asked. “Diapers, bottles, stuff like that?” 

“There’s a couple of empty storage draws in my closet,” you replied. “Whatever can’t fit in there can go in one of my nightstand drawers.”

Loki nodded, taking the initiative to begin pushing stuff out of the way and reorganizing it, since you were still busy cradling and rocking the baby. 

He didn’t mind though. He liked seeing you like this. Felt like maybe someday in the future—with a lot less last minute warning—he would get to see it again, with you holding a child that the two of you created together. 

“Loki? You okay?” 

The Asgardian snapped out of his daydream and gave you a reassuring smile. “Absolutely fantastic, darling.” You returned his smile and nodded, refocusing your attention on the baby. 

A while later, your bedroom had been set up into a half-baby room, Tony had ordered a ton of baby supplies, and Loki materialized a crib (which, to note, you were slightly skeptical about), which the little girl seemed to love, given the fact that she snuggled right into it. 

“I wonder what her name is,” you murmured in thought as you and Loki watched the baby sleep soundly. 

“The mother didn’t tell you?” Loki asked in surprise. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I told you, she was dead before I could even blink.”

“Well… if we can’t find out what her name is…what if we named her?” 

You cocked a brow. “Us?” 

“Well, why not?”

“I’m terrible at naming stuff,” you laughed. 

“So am I,” Loki joined in the laughter alongside you. “My firstborn? His name was Sleipnir.” 

You burst into a fit of giggles at that. “What? How am I supposed to pronounce something like that?” 

“You weren’t even supposed to know about it! Those were questionable times.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” you snickered as you went to pick up the baby’s blanket, which had been cleaned thoroughly from its bloody horror, to drape it over her. However, you caught a glimpse of some sort of writing engraved at the bottom corner. 

Readjusting it to examine it further, you caught sight of something that made your mouth part slightly in surprise and wonder. 

“Neveah. Her name is Neveah.”

“You just came up with that?” 

“No, no, look!” you replied, beckoning Loki over to see what you were seeing. “It’s right here. Neveah D. R.” 

“What do the last two initials stand for?” He asked. 

“Her middle and last name, I assume. It’s not likely they’re her parents initials, but it’s one of the two.”

Before Loki could answer you, an alarm blares loudly throughout the Tower, startling both you and the little girl in the crib. 

“I’m so sorry for the loud disturbance, but there’s an intrusion alert,” JARVIS’ voice fills the room. 

“An intrusion?” You asked, your eyes widened in fear. “By who?” 

“It appears to be the same threat as earlier, Ms. (L/n).” A holographic screen projects itself on your wall, showing Tony and Clint going at it with the same stone man from earlier. 

“Thank you JARVIS, we’ll be down ASAP.” You then turned your attention to Loki. “I’ll calm the the baby down first, you get down there and help Tony and Clint.” 

Loki gives you a nod, changing back into his armor before teleporting away. 

You picked up Neveah in your arms, rocking her softly as she cried. 

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry, honey,” you whispered to her gently. “It’s okay, I'm gonna protect you. Me and Loki, we’ll keep you safe, alright? Whoever that man is, he won’t get you.” 

Her wails began to die down slowly the more you comforted her, until she was left sniffling softly. 

“There we go, sweetheart,” you said with a smile, before wrapping her in her blanket, which seemed to make her happy in an instant. “Now just lay down and sleep, okay? We’ll come back for you, I promise.”

With that, you placed Neveah back in her crib and walked out the door, locking it behind you, just to be safe. Luckily, you still had on your suit, so you grabbed your holster and belt, attaching them to your body as you rushed down to the lower level of the Tower. 

And boy, was it a mess. 

It was absolute chaos, the room was practically surrounded by stone spikes coming out of the wall, shot up from the floor, even dangling from the ceiling. Things were tossed around and broken, and there was Tony, Steve, Clint, and Loki all trying to stop this crazy guy, who wasn’t budging not one bit. 

However, when he spotted you, he stopped and narrowed his eyes. “You.”

You froze in your tracks as you made eye contact with him, the look in his eyes full of rage.  

“You took my daughter away from me,” he seethed. “First that- that incompetent woman, and now you!” 

Incompetent woman? Was he referring to Neveah’s mother?

“You took Neveah! Now you’re going to pay!” 

All of a sudden, there were spikes being fired at you rapidly, so fast that you just barely managed to dodge the hits. 

You ducked under the stone-like man and grabbed onto one of the thicker, heavier spikes protruding from the wall, climbing up them and swinging off the one on the very top, jumping on the man’s back as you tackled him to the ground. 

He tried to fight back by aiming a spike at you from behind, but Steve threw his shield, knocking it out of the way before it could reach you. 

Tony then jumped in, bringing a fist to the man’s face, the metal of his suit packing quite the cold punch, sending the man into a state of unconsciousness. 

There was a moment of silence before Clint spoke up. “Is anybody gonna talk about what just happened?” 

The rest of you began to speak simultaneously. 

“Nope.”

“No.”

“Can’t explain it.”

“Not a chance.”

Another brief silence washed over the room before Tony lifted up the mask of his Iron Man suit. 

“Rock of Ages, you’re strong enough,” he said. “Mind carrying this…man-rock to the cell in the basement?” 

“My pleasure,” Loki muttered, helping you off of the guy before hauling him upwards, dragging his body away. 

“That guy took the Rock way too literally,” Tony sighed. You shook your head and looked away to avoid the laugh that threatened to free itself. 

“How did he get like-like that, anyways?” Steve asked. 

“Good question, Cap. Turns out, I still don’t have an answer, so we’ll ask him whenever he wakes up.”

“You really think he’ll answer us?” you asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well, at the end of the day, he has no choice.” 

All that was left now was to wait for him to wake up. 

+++++++++++++++

Hours later, JARVIS gave all of you the announcement that the man had woken up, which brought you down to the cell, where Tony was standing already, his arms crossed as he stared the man down. 

“And thanks for all the damages, we really enjoyed the long cleanup,” you heard him utter sarcastically. "Turns out, the spikes disappear, but the mess doesn't." 

“He’s awake?” you asked, staring at the man through the glass, who looked at you with a piercing glare. 

“Yes, and for the love of god, keep your head down, your face looks like it hasn’t felt a drop of moisturizer since the day you were born.” 

Clint raised a brow. “Aren’t you an Atheist?” 

“Objection, besides the point,” Tony dismissed him. “Anyways, Concrete Rain, how'd you get the weird powers anyways, you went out and got yourself stoned or something?” 

Leave it to Tony to start cracking jokes. 

“I was born with these powers,” the man growled. “One of my kind, the Elementals.” 

“I see. So, what element are you, sedimentary rock?” 

“He’s got the Earth element, Stark,” Loki murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“That still doesn’t explain why he tried destroying the city,” Steve said. 

“That woman took my daughter away from me. I want her back.” 

“Don’t you see you’re a danger to her? Do you really think your daughter wants to see you like this? Maybe her mother kept her away for a reason.” 

“Tony,” you frowned. “Cmon, don’t be like that. Have some compassion, he just misses his kid.”

"Hey, child abductor, let me handle this, okay?"

"Wow." 

"Well, what are you gonna do, Tony?" Clint asked. "As much as I hate to say it, we can't just hand his daughter back to him." 

"Exactly," Tony agrees. "I say we send him to the Raft. Let him out for temporary child visits. How's that sound?" 

"No!" The man roared. "I want Neveah! She's mine!" 

"You are in no condition to be taking care of a child. That is a very small infant, and she needs gentle care. Unless you can get rid of the bodily rock, then I'm leaving your daughter under (y/n)'s care." 

"And Loki's," you added. 

"Yeah, him too," Tony reluctantly agreed. "And we'll keep the original plan. Now you two, get back to the kid. Don't leave her alone longer than necessary." 

With that, Loki nodded, grasping your hand before he teleported away, bringing the two of you back to your bedroom, where Neveah was, shuffling around in her crib, cute little giggles and incoherent words spilling from her lips. 

"Hi, sweetheart," you smiled, instantly walking over to shower her in attention. "Everything's okay now. You're safe." 

"She's safe with us," Loki said, wrapping an arm around your waist as he watched you interact with the small child. 

"Yeah,” you replied, laughing softly when you felt her tiny hand wrap around your fingers. 

"Safe with us."

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #loki x y/n #it’s a case of delulu

[morphodae]

Hello!! May I request something for black butler? Reader usually being quite non-confrontational and energetic but has a bit of a possessive streak. Not toxic level but sort of unintentionally intimidates people that flirts w/ their partner even when they know they’re taken like staring down at them from behind their partner or being passive-aggressive, and then just goes back to being their usual self once the other person’s left.

The characters being Claude, William Spears, and Lawrence Bluewer (you can replace him with Sebastian if you don’t write for Lawrence).

Tysm and sorry for the long request!! Feel free to delete if ever ^^

Protective Passion

Sorry it took me a bit to get to this. I’m not entirely caught up with Lawrence and the Public School Arc but I did some research :) I hope you enjoy! Thank you for requesting 💜

Claude Faustus 🕷️

On the surface, Claude doesn’t seem to care much for your existence at all.

He’s a demon who knows he’s can take the form of a handsome man - which he has - and who could charm anyone he sees fit. Only, he usually does this in order to make a contract. When you came into his life, he surprised himself at how… endearing your qualities were to him.

As said before, he knows he has attractive looks and charm and it isn’t uncommon for people to try and flirt with him. It usually ends the same way: with his unblinking stare and some remark about business at hand; you don’t need to worry. He knows that he’s taken by you.

As a demon, he can be quite possessive; it’s a natural instinct for him. So when he sees you of all people becoming instinctually protective over your relationship with him, he feels an odd sense of pride well up into his chest and a small smirk cross his face.

You needn’t worry, dear. Claude has already claimed you as his long ago and no mortal, demon, angel, or otherworldly being is going to come in between that.

William Spears ⚔️

More likely than not, your relationship with him would have to remain secret and private. It took a long, long time for you to even worm your way into his heart. He’s supposed to remain impartial and adhere to all rules, after all.

On the rare occasion that he isn’t busy as a Grim Reaper, he does try to take you out on private outings. Usually, these “dates” consist of private, scenic spots around London or even an indoor date at your home.

If, by chance, an individual disturbs your outing with him and even flirts with him without taking the hint, and William sees you become protective, he will quickly take you elsewhere as though not to escalate the situation.

He’s flattered at the thought you’d felt the need to be possessive of him, but he’d rather avoid conflict of any sort. To him, he will tell you that no one else stands a chance with him. He, an avid rule follower, has already broken the code of impartiality by being with you, so there’s no need to doubt his unwavering affection for being with you.

Lawrence Bluewer 📚

Ah, yes, another avid rule-follower who values tradition in academic and personal settings.

Lawrence is definitely attractive in a booksmart sort of way, and his knowledge and stoicism might even be seen as attractive to others initially.

If a person doesn’t take the hint that you two are a couple while you are there, and you feel the need to make snide remarks and stand your ground, Lawrence won’t really know what to do.

After a moment, he will fix his glasses, clear his throat, and excuse himself and you from the person causing issues. Despite his best wishes, his cheeks are a faint shade of pink and he’s mentally berating himself to maintain composure.

He appreciates your devotion to him and is surprised that you seem so fiercely loyal, but he also would prefer if you follow proper etiquette in social situations. Don’t get him wrong, he adores all aspects of your personality, but he still does put traditions on a pedestal.

In the end, you receive a light scolding as his significant other and a light peck on the cheek before the two of you go about the rest of your day.

#x reader #claude x reader #claude faustus x reader #lawrence bluewer #lawrence x reader #black butler x reader #black butler headcanons #anime headcanons #anime x reader #kuroshitsuji x reader #william t spears #black butler william

[conquerthenight]

I’m glad that going back to uni means I get out of the house, but I feel like my inspiration and motivation for writing fics has totally plummeted ever since. I have so many ideas but when I can get the spoons to sit down and write them it never seems to come out right if at all.

#fanfiction #ao3 author #so sorry to the people following the ones they left behind #i had so many ideas for my current fic in that series but i hated every attempt to write them so i deleted them all #and i’ve been sitting on the one i’m currently writing because i haven’t been able to figure out how i want a spoilery conversation to go #i absolutely hate abandoning a fic #so i’m gonna finish eventually #but god this is frustrating #imposter syndrome to the max #vent post

[arsonist-twink]

ever check up on ur ex and be like wow. youve fallen off without me

#like wtf happened 😭😭😭 #how tf do you just. instantly become boring the second we break up #also this man glowed the fuck down like #wearing knee length khaki cargo shorts when hes like 5'2 #you dont pull it off you look like an elementary schooler in his little uniform #babes i am so much hotter now what is this #dyed my hair bright red started dressing how i actually wanted to because you wouldnt call me cringe for it #i smile more now #and you still cant make your stupid fucking bowl cut look good. #l + ratio + you're a fucking creep now too who's dating men who don't respect your gender identity because they know you have low enough- #-self worth to date them without thinking twice about it while im still with the amazing man you left behind because you couldnt appreciate #-him giving you absolutely everything he had #i may have made a promise to stop 'spreading rumors' about you irl but no one on tumblr cares about you so #and either way warning people that you're a selfish unhappy bitch who will promise to be there for them and then leave when their fucking- #-mom dies is not spreading rumors. thats telling the truth to make sure you dont hurt anyone else #WOW #okay that was #a lot #SORRY TUMBLR FOLLOWERS YOU DONT NEED ALL THIS????? #THIS IS LITERALLY JUST CUZ I SAW HIS STATUS WAS 'now who want me' ..... #anyway #merry christmas if you celebrate have a good night if you dont im going to bed #kinda vent #vent tw #just in caseies

[risuola]

I — NOT YET — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN, who is a mob boss

When a guy in the club tries to assault you, you ask a random stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend. Little that you know that out of all people, you chose a mob boss.

cw: smut, mafia mob!au, briefly mentioned assault and tiny bit of violence, Sukuna (yeah, I consider him a warning), reader discretion is advised — 2,7k words

a/n: mada... mada mada~ the very second I heard this menace toying with Panda, Kusakabe and the rest in Shibuya, not allowing them to move unless he say so - my head went straight to the idea of him playing the same game in bed.

series masterlist

Sukuna never had to get used to being interrupted. Never. Anytime it happened in the past, all he had to do was to glance at the person and it usually got the message across. His gaze has enough power in it to quickly inform the intruder why invading his personal space or cutting him half-sentence is a damn bad idea. One look from him usually was enough to make anyone reconsider if they really want some problems. Sukuna had his eyes trained to be sharp and cold, his body strong and intimidating and his aura dangerous. He spent years building his reputation, earning a position in his world that now guaranteed him calm. Now everyone and their mothers know that he’s not the one to cross paths with. He’s a VIP, he’s allowed everywhere and he has no qualms about killing someone. Ryomen Sukuna is a brand, he’s a threat, he’s untouchable, invincible. No one in the right mind would ever try to start anything with him at this point. That’s why, when he tried to relax in one of many clubs that he owns in Tokyo, he couldn’t believe someone had the guts to push onto him at the bar.

“Hey, sorry, can you please pretend to be my boyfriend for a second?”, he heard near his ear and following the sound and the soft tug on his elbow, he turned his head towards you. Lucky girl, he thought while quickly assessing the view. You were too god damn pretty to be killed, looking at him with those pleading eyes that glistened in the harsh artificial lights. You were visibly scared of something, or someone, and oddly enough it wasn’t him who brought you to the verge of tears.

“Your boyfriend, huh?”, he mused, allowing his eyes to trail down your figure. The dress you had on left little to imagination and yet he wished to tear it off to see more of you. It hugged the shapes of your body perfectly and the silky fabric betrayed the lack of bra underneath. You were attractive, but clearly not smart enough to think twice before approaching a stranger.

“Please, I beg you, this guy—“, you tried to explain, squeezing your perfectly manicured fingers around his veiny forearm, but your sentence was cut in half when a man grabbed you by the waist, pulling you away just a little and harshly pressing your back against the bar. Sukuna watched as you winced when your spine hit the edge of the wooden countertop, he watched for a moment how you tried to push the guy away. With no effect, you weren’t strong enough to stand against him, you were trapped between the unwanted body and the furniture behind you, fighting the hungry hands that were groping your figure.

“Naoya, get off of me—” you tried, pushing his face away from where he was trying to suck a spot onto your neck.

“Oh, shut up woman, I know you want it,” the blonde-ish idiot grinned, twisting your arm enough to make a space for himself. He wasn’t bothered in the least with the fact he was trying to get between your legs in the very center of a club. Sukuna’s club.

Ryomen zeroed the whisky in his glass and got up from the chair. Usually, he would ignore situations like this. Other people’s problems were none of his business and he had enough his own things to take care of, to bother himself with anything else, but you. You were a problem he was willing to explore.

“Zenin, huh?”, he asked, connecting the name he heard falling from your lips with the wannabe gangster he heard about many times before. There was a certain reputation tied to Naoya’s name, mostly regarding his treatment of women but as long as he wasn’t touching his women, Sukuna couldn’t care less about this trash of a man. You definitely were not his woman. Yet.

“The fuck you want, I’m busy,” Zenin groaned, pulling his nasty mouth away from your shoulder for just a moment, only to shot a glare to the club owner.

“I can tell that you’re busy,” Ryomen grabbed one of Naoya’s wrists. It wasn’t looking like a hard grip, but the face of the blonde betrayed the sharp, bone-breaking pain he felt.

You felt some kind of relief when the stranger you just met stepped between you and your unwanted date. The large body of him towered above you completely, he was bigger than you thought when you approached his sitting form, but you couldn’t think about it for too long when he dealt with Naoya so easily. Once the blonde was gone, he turned to you.

Your heart skipped few beats once you took the image in. The man was huge, way taller than you and built like a greek god. The sharp outlines of his muscled torso beautifully showed through the dark graphite dress shirt. Looking up, you could finally see his face clearly. His features were attractive, dangerous with the black tattooed lines around them. He could easily be a gangster or something.

“T-thank you,” you spoke finally, snapping out from the initial impression of him. He was a red flag, you knew that. If not for the circumstance, you’d probably be the first to run away from him. He was hot. An absolute smokeshow, but he was certainly bad news.

“Was he your date?”, he asked, pulling a chair that he was sitting on previously and twisting it to position, before his large hands landed on your hips. There was no effort whatsoever when he lifted you and sat you down on the seat. He opted to stand next to you.

“No… I came here with a friend, but she left earlier. I was just about to leave as well, but this guy stopped me,” you sighed. “He wouldn’t let me go, I was afraid that he’ll just walk after me to my home. I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture in itself was soft, but you shivered underneath his touch nonetheless. You couldn’t quite tell what made him so… scary. Was it his overwhelming frame? Or maybe the calm, distant demeanor? He had authority, he was expecting submission and when he was looking at you, you felt like a prey of him. Strangely, you were quite fine with that. You had no wish of doing anything with Naoya, but this man… he was different, he was interesting, he made you cross your legs just to feel any kind of pressure between your thighs. “Your name?”

“Y/n,” you replied.

“Y/n. Nice,” he gave it a soft nod and ordered two drinks. “Ryomen is my name. Sukuna Ryomen. Memorize it.”

“Sure…”

At this moment, you had no guts to ask why was it important to imprint the name he told you into your brain, but it all became clear just barely two hours later. You couldn’t exactly recall the moment Sukuna led you out of the club and into his car. There was something so enticing about his entire aura that made you lose your ability to think. He made you break every rule you ever had for yourself – to not talk with strangers, not go with them anywhere. Before that night you were doing exceptionally good in avoiding danger, you somehow slipped through your life up until that point without any major problems, but once you faced the problem, it was a big one.

The talk was good, it flowed easily and the menacing aura that Ryomen had all around him kept you interested. You had no idea that you’re attracted to bad boys, and maybe you were not exactly into school hooligans. Turned out, you’re aroused by the much worse kind – the kind that keeps a gun behind his belt, drinks pure whisky and makes people run away just by shooting them a glance. Yeah, that seems to be the kind of men you are into, because if there was any common sense left in you, you’d be out the door and running towards the safety of your dormitory. If there was any self-preservation instinct in you, you’d be probably anywhere else, rather than in here.

In the most luxurious house you’ve ever seen, not to mention been inside of; somewhere in the outskirts of Tokyo where you were not even sure how you can get back to your home from there. If you were just a little smarter, you’d for sure be in your own bed right now and not on the dark leather couch, with your silky dress scrunched up around your waist and your underwear torn to pieces and laying on the floor. If you had more braincells, maybe you wouldn’t be bouncing on that stranger’s dick right now, gripping onto his muscular shoulders as one of his large hands kept your hip in a dead grip, leading your moves up and down his girthy length and the other one tightly squeezed around the back of your neck, from where he was keeping his head close so he could kiss you so hungrily it took your breath away. But that’s just where you were. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

He felt so goddamn good, filling your tight hole to the very brim, stretching you to the point of delirium and he wasn’t even fully in yet. His moves were aggressive and yet sensual; he made you feel small even if it was you who was on top of him. You had no control, he made it clear with the way he was holding you and every time you tried to dominate him in any way, he quickly showed you your place back. Maybe later, he’ll let you have your way with him, but now, he was in charge.

“Think you can take all of me?” He asked against the delicate skin of your neck, now painted in red and purple marks he nibbed onto it. You could feel him grinning at the way you squeezed your little hands on his clothed biceps. He got you all exposed and yet he only allowed you to free his dick; his shirt was still buttoned up, his pants were still on his legs. There was a certain dominance shown in the way he got you all naked on top of his suit.

“N-no,” you breathed out, “too big.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.” Sukuna doesn’t exactly accept no as an answer and he for sure gave you enough time to accommodate to his size. “You’ll take it and thank me for it, yeah?”

“Yes,” was all you could mumble, before both of his large hands landed on your hips. The iron grip, you were sure, was going to bruise you but now, it felt grounding in a way.

“Good girl,” he praised, his purr vibrated against your skin as he sucked yet another mark along your collarbone. It distracted you for a moment before he pushed your pelvis even lower, fully bottoming into you. Your clit made a contact with his lower belly, the harsh brush of his skin against the swollen bud making you moan louder than you were meaning to. You felt like all of your organs were moved out of the way just to make more space for his dick and Sukuna couldn’t be more satisfied by the way you took him in. “See? As if you were made to take this cock.”

Something incoherent left your mouth, a tear stained your cheek and the man was happy to lick it away, tasting the saltiness before he bucked his hips up, keeping yours in place. He took full control, thrusting into you with all the power he had in his muscular body and you held onto his shoulders with your little hands. The filthy, wet sounds were filling the interiors, bouncing off the walls and mixing with all of the whines and whimpers that were leaving your lips. Some grunts added to the melody, but you barely heard any of it, too consumed by the exploding pleasure between your legs.

Sukuna’s name was leaving your mouth like a prayer, you felt so close, you felt like falling and you had no intention to stop. The man grinned, licking a long stroke along your throat, his tongue curling upwards as it reached the tip of your chin. The taste of your skin felt intoxicating to him, he wanted to devour you whole, to keep all for himself.

“You wanna cum, huh?” His voice was taunting. “You’re clenching around me so fucking hard, you’re gonna milk me as well.”

“Yes, yes, please,” you near damn begged, chasing the bliss that you could almost taste on your tongue right now. It filled all of your body cells, rushed through your veins in ecstatic waves of lust.

“Not yet,” he ordered and it felt almost painful to force yourself back from the state of climax. You could tell he was playing with you, toying with his dominance, reminding you that it’s him who pulls the strings in here. And yet, he was still rutting into you, his movements completely different to what he was saying, he was fucking you like he wanted you to cum in that very moment. “Still not yet,” he teased, feeling your little fingers digging onto his shoulders, your manicured nails nearly making holes in his shirt as your eyes fell shut.

“Oh god, Ryomen, please,” you whined. Your thighs were shaking, your spine arching and the incredible tension below your stomach threatened to burst any second now.

“Now,” he ordered and just like that, all inside of you snapped. You came all over his dick, and you came hard. It felt like nothing you’ve ever experienced, like you were suddenly shot into another dimension and if not for the way he sped up his movements, you’d probably just get lost in the lustful feeling. Ryomen came just few moments after you, wrapping his arms around your waist and painting your walls white. You felt him throbbing, spasming inside of you, the hot seed gushed out of you as he was pumping it in, staining your thighs and the bottom of his black shirt. Then he pushed you down, fully onto his cock, plugging the way out for his cum.

You found his lips, swallowing his quickened breath as you kissed him with desire and he gave in, quickly dominating the kiss. You were tired, the muscles in your legs were burning from the intense exercise, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling of still wanting more. He made you hungry, he made you unsatiated and you were sure, you won’t be able to recognize yourself after you’re done with him. You were never such a greedy lover but frankly, you never had a chance to feel that good with anyone. The boys you’ve been with had no skills and if not for the orgasms you gave yourself with your fingers, no one else ever brought you over the edge like Sukuna.

“Can you undress?” You asked him, your lips brushing against his as you mouthed the question and he chased your kiss with his head, grabbing your lower lip between his teeth. There was a certain expression painted all over his dangerously handsome features, the menacing aura amplified as he took his sweet time before replying.

“I can undress,” he began, yet there was a but hanging in the air. He had conditions and you were open to hear them. “I’ll give you two options, little kitten. Wanna hear ‘em?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t undress. You can pull yourself together and I can drive you back to your home now. But I can also take the suit off, carry you to my bed. Then you’ll stay with me till morning, but don’t have any hopes for a calm sleep, no. The night will be as filthy as it can get. You’ll be sore tomorrow, most likely exhausted.”

You blinked hearing the options. It was clear as day, stop there or continue? You knew the answer already, your body decided for you even before he came up with an offer.

“Will you drive me home as well if I pick the second option?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s get you naked.”

» PART TWO

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[rowarn]

PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT 1

simon riley / reader

FIND PART TWO || read the full thing on ao3

tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI

cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes

note: any triggering acts such as harassment/sa are done by a third party, not simon!!! also the sa is not vague or implied, there is a written out scene so please be mindful when you read! thank u to @allsaiint for reading over this and helping!

you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.

part 1: 17.8k total: 35.8k

Your muscles were stiff, thighs twitching and trembling as you laid in bed, staring at your water stained ceiling. Your chest rose and fell in time with rapid breathing. You had worn yourself out, caused a wet spot on your bed, yet you remained completely unsatisfied. Your fingers were cramped up and you let out a groan of frustration, rolling over to crawl out of bed. 

It had become a daily ritual at this point, you with your hand between your thighs, rubbing and touching, only to get into the shower completely unsatisfied and embarrassed at your own inability to get yourself off. 

People your age didn’t struggle like this, you convinced yourself.  Your cheeks burned as you stepped under the warm spray from your showerhead, the creaking pipes just background noise to you now. You were broken, that was the only explanation you could think of. 

By the time you got out of the shower and changed your sheets, throwing the dirty ones into the washer, it was evening and a familiar knocking rang through your apartment.

You didn’t even have to answer it before the lock was clicking and the large form of your best friend Simon ducked in. 

“Hey, Simon!” you called cheerfully, excitedly bounding into the room and wrapping your arms around him in greeting. 

He grunted, harshly patting your back in the familiar way he always does before kicking his boots off. When he straightened up, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at you. 

“What's with you?” he asked, a thick, dark brow raised suspiciously. 

“Um,” you stepped back, shrugging as you tried to look nonchalant, “What do you mean?”

“You look…” his eyes raked down your body, clearly assessing you, “You look tense.”

Immediately, your cheeks erupted into flames. Your face felt so hot that you had to bring your hands up to cool them before laughing nervously, “That’s no different than usual.”

He was silent for several, long, grueling seconds before grunting and breezing past you to the kitchen, clearly letting it drop. You took a moment to catch your breath before following him, finding him hunched over looking into your barren refrigerator. 

“Where’s all your fuckin’ food?” he snapped, straightening back up with a huff when he heard you come in behind him.

“Didn’t get a chance to shop this week, Si,” you replied stiffly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why?” he demanded, slamming the appliance closed before heading to your cabinets to do inventory there too.

“Paycheck was short again this week,” you answered, speaking quietly in hopes he wouldn’t look into it anymore than that. 

He angrily slammed a cabinet closed and leaned on his palms against the counter, head hung between his shoulders, “Your boss fuckin’ stiff you again?”

“I-It’s not a big deal, Simon–” you attempted to quell him.

“Not a big deal?” he snapped, slamming his hands down on the counter, making you flinch at the noise. You knew Simon would never, ever hurt you but his anger was something to behold nonetheless, “It is a big deal when you can’t even afford to fuckin’ eat!”

“Simon…” you whisper, anxiously picking at a string on your cotton shorts, “I wasn’t going hungry, I have like…ramen and stuff…”

He says your name through gritted teeth, letting out a frustrated sigh, “Why didn’t you tell me that you couldn’t afford proper groceries?”

“I didn’t want to bother you with it, Si,” you mutter, “I-It’s my problem, not yours.”

He gives you a long, unblinking stare. His usual soft, puppy dog brown eyes now felt intimidating. One thing about Simon was that he never hid it when he was clearly upset with you. And knowing he was right now made you hang your head pitifully.

He moves suddenly, tugging his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out a small stack of clean bills, slapping them on your countertop.

“Simon, no–” you attempt to reach out for them, willing him to take the money back.

He grabs your hand immediately, shoving the appendage away from the money, “You’ll take this and you’ll go to the store tomorrow and get some damn food or I’m going to go to the bar and wrap my fuckin’ hands around your boss’s throat until he coughs up your money.”

“You don’t have to do this, Simon!” you argue, exasperated, “Y-You don’t have to take care of me like this.”

“Yes, I fuckin’ do!” he counters, “You’re my responsibility and I’m not going to let you exist on fuckin’ cup noodles until that shithead pays you properly, not when I can take care of you. Now stop arguing and put this in your wallet now.”

He used that damn Lieutenant voice, leaving no room for argument. You bit your lip and slowly picked up the bills from the counter.

“Thank you, Simon…” you whisper, clutching the money close to your chest as you offer him a wobbly smile.

“Shut up and go,” he huffs, though his voice is much softer and affectionate now. 

You turn on your heel and go to the table by the door, slowly taking the time to place the money safely inside. You felt tears pricking at your eyes. You were so, so lucky to have someone in your life that did everything in his power to take care of you, to look after you and make sure you had food on the table. No one had ever cared about your well-being the way Simon did, and your heart felt incredibly full because of it. 

You could hear him still stalking around the kitchen, grumbling to himself in annoyance. He comes out of the kitchen, phone in hand, before he’s taking a seat on your old, creaky couch. His knee is bouncing up and down in that way it always does. It’s like he’s always a live wire, ready and waiting for something to happen.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, still standing by the table.

He grunts, shaking his head, “Orderin' dinner.”

“Oh,” you mumble, “What’re you getting?”

“Gettin’ from that breakfast diner you like,” he responds quickly, not looking up from his phone. 

“You don’t even like that place,” you giggle, “In the mood for a breakfast sandwich?”

“Not for me,” was his clipped response.

“What?” you whine, “Simon, don’t order me food!”

“Did you eat today?” he asks quickly, placing his phone on the table, clearly done with the order.

“I had cup noodles!” you point an accusing finger at him, “So yes!”

“That’s not real food,” he leans against the back of the couch, closing his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest. End of conversation. 

You sigh, shaking your head. You debate continuing to pester him about it but you hear your washing machine begin to ring the jingle signaling the cycle is finished. You cast one last, unseen glare to the man on your couch before heading to the washer, methodically taking the now clean sheets out. 

You finish placing it in the dryer and turning the machine on, stepping back into the living room when there’s a knock on the door. Simon is on his feet in seconds and at the door before you can even react. When he slams the door shut, he holds the bag of food up for you to see, dropping it on the coffee table before taking a seat again. He resumes the same position, arms cross over his chest and eyes closed. 

“Are you tired?” you ask softly, taking the empty seat beside him. He hums in response, “You want to spend the night?”

“Guess so,” he responds after a few seconds, “You work tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow night,” you mumble, reaching for the bag of food, untying the knot so you can get inside, “I hate working Friday nights.”

“I can stop by tomorrow if you want,” he offers, finally opening his eyes.

You think it over for a minute. It wouldn’t be the first time he sat in the bar on a busy Friday night, nursing a half-drunk bourbon, as he waited for you to get off, “I think it’ll be okay. Last week was fine.”

He simply stares at you in silence before sighing through his nose. But he doesn’t argue and you’re thankful for that. 

Simon’s been looking after you like this since you turned 18 and moved out on your own. There have been many, many days and nights that you’ve taken up his time and energy and as you grew older, you tried to do it less. He had an incredibly busy job and life and the last thing you wanted was to add weight onto his already heavy shoulders. 

The evening turned to night and before you knew it you had a full belly and leftovers to store in the fridge for breakfast. You folded your dried sheet and placed it in the hallway closet, acutely aware of the sound of Simon showering in your bathroom. 

It wasn’t a very big shower and you sometimes wondered what it looked like for him in there. Surely he had to hunch down to properly wash his hair and shoulders. But those thoughts always turned into something less than innocent. 

You imagined what he looked like, all wet. How big he surely looked in there, no doubt he would dwarf you. He would be able to easily crowd you in the corner, make it so you couldn't escape as he blocked the exit – not that you would want to escape. 

You slapped a hand against your forehead, shaking your head violently to rid yourself of those thoughts. You tugged a spare blanket out of the closet and slammed it closed, rushing to your bedroom to place it on your bed. 

Your cheeks burned with shame over having such unsavory thoughts about your best friend. As much as you liked to pretend that the crush you had on him when you were children had faded like typical puppy love, you knew your feelings were alive and well deep inside where you had pushed them when he rejected you when you were 14. 

It was just because you were so pent up, you convinced yourself, you would have those thoughts about any man that was inside your shower!

You crawled onto your side of the bed, flopping back into your pillow as you waited for him to come in. You completely ignored the throbbing between your thighs, a feeling you were more than used to by now. But your fingers itched to reach down, slip beneath the band of your shorts and touch your clit, the little bud throbbed so desperately that when you clenched your thighs together, a shiver would go down your spine. 

Just as you started to reach down, just to try and relieve the ache that settled there, the bathroom door opened. You yanked your hand back up and tried to look casual as you heard his heavy footsteps move towards the bedroom door.

He pushed the door open wider so he could come in, having to duck his head down to avoid hitting his head. He placed his towel in the laundry basket and slowly crawled into bed beside you, placing his pillow flat so he could comfortably lay down.

Some people may find it strange sleeping with him like this, but your couch was much too small for him and he would rather cut his own fingers off than make you sleep on the damned thing. It was old and so uncomfortable that it caused you to be sore if you sat on it for too long. Plus, you never felt uncomfortable having him in the bed with you like this. He was warm and safe and he always smelled like your grapefruit body wash after he showered. 

It made your heart thump in your chest, knowing he walked around the next day smelling like you. 

“Goodnight, Simon,” you mumbled, reaching over to turn your bedside lamp off.

He grunted quietly, rolling over so his back was facing you. You smiled in the dark and snuggled down into your own blanket, closing your eyes as well. 

The next morning, you woke up and the bed was empty. As usual. 

Even when he was home, Simon functioned off of the strict military schedule he’d been accustomed to for his many years in the military. You sat up and stretched your arms above your head, tossing your blanket off of you. The floor was chilly against your bare feet, making you shiver. 

After going pee, you ventured out into the living room. Simon was lounging, quietly watching TV – the morning news, it seemed.

“Good morning,” you called. 

“Eat,” was all he replied, not even breaking his gaze off of the TV.

You purse your lips but do as you’re told – not because he said so, but because your stomach was painfully growling and the breakfast sandwich in the fridge sounded delicious. 

As you heated it up in the microwave, you hummed to yourself.

“I’m going to go to the store after I eat,” you called, “Do you want to come?”

“Nah,” he grunted, “Gotta go soon.”

“Oh,” you tried to hide your disappointment, “Will you be back tonight?”

“Probably not,” he responded, your disappointment only growing at that. 

The microwave beeped and you pulled your plate of food out, bringing it back to the living room to eat it beside him. He took up an absurd amount of space given how large he was and how small your couch was – but you didn’t mind being pressed up against him. You didn’t think he minded either because he never bothered to move away. 

You quietly ate your breakfast, finishing up just as the news segment ended. Simon stood, knees popping as he did, patting his pockets to make sure he had his keys and wallet before pausing, looking around. 

“You leaving?” you ask, placing your plate on the table as you followed his lead, standing.

“Got to,” he mumbled, still glancing around, “Where’s my phone?”

“You leave it in the bedroom?” you offer.

He sighs and disappears down the hall for a split minute before returning, tucking the device into his pocket. He grabs his coat off the table by the door, slipping it on and zipping it up. You approach him by the door, watching him slip his boots on and tie them. 

“See you later, Si,” you say, trying your best to hide your disappointment at him leaving. 

You never wanted him to leave, always feeling painfully lonely without his presence in your home. Since he was gone for long periods so often, you liked to enjoy his company as much as you can when he’s home. But you would never be the type to ask him to stay when he couldn’t because you knew he would run himself ragged to keep you company even when he was exhausted and had other things to do on top of it. You never wanted to be a burden to him.

He straightens up, stomping his feet a couple times to make sure his boots were on fine. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his chest. You wrap both arms around his middle and hug him tight.

“I’ll come by when I can,” he mutters, pulling back to press a kiss to your forehead.

Then he’s gone, the door slamming closed and leaving you by yourself in the doorway, already feeling an emptiness that would remain until he returned. 

Just as you promised, you went out and bought groceries, courtesy of the money Simon had so kindly given you. You made sure you had some meat, fruit, and veggies, along with some canned goods. You made sure you didn’t buy cup noodles because he certainly wouldn’t be thrilled to know you bought that since he was so vehemently against them being in your diet. 

When you got home, you put all the groceries away and quickly realized that you had some time to spare before you had to get ready for your shift at the bar. 

As you sit on the couch, mindlessly watching some random show you’ve seen a hundred times before, you suddenly realize you’re squeezing your thighs together. 

And your panties are feeling awfully sticky. 

Your body heats up as you find yourself cupping your breasts through your shirt and bra. But you quickly realize that’s doing nothing for you and you strip your shirt off, pulling the sports bra over your breasts to cup them without the fabric restriction. You sigh and relax into the couch as you pull and pinch your nipple, tugging them and rolling them beneath your fingers. Your thighs clench and rub together as you tease yourself. 

But you tire of that quickly, knowing you could do something that felt so much better. 

Your fingers tremble as you tug the button of your jeans open and kick them off, letting your panties go down with them. You take note of the fact the center is completely sticky and wet. God, how long had you been dripping into your panties like that?

You lean back on the couch, placing your feet on the cushions, letting your legs open nice and wide. Your folds flower open, embarrassingly wet and shiny. Your clit is hard and swollen between them and you can practically see the bud twitching. 

With two, shaky fingers, you reach down and swipe over the bud. Your entire body twitches at the contact and you sigh as you slowly circle it, using your own slick as lubrication. 

You bring a finger to your entrance, prodding at the stickiness there. It’s embarrassing how wet you are. Your pussy makes loud noises as you touch but it doesn’t really provide you much pleasure so you bring your finger back to your clit. 

You circle it, pinch it, and roll your fingers over it. You’re quietly moaning, lidded eyes hazy as you watch your fingers play between your thighs. It feels good, a warm feeling settling in your gut the more you touch yourself. 

But then the inevitable happens – it’s like you hit a wall. 

You whine in frustration, speeding up your movements to hopefully reach the edge that you know is right over the wall. But you don’t get any further, if anything you feel that warmth vanishing at an alarming rate. 

Tears sting your eyes, “No, no, no…” you beg no one.

You grit your teeth in frustration, yanking your hand away to watch your pussy clench and throb over nothing, drooling and dripping slick onto the couch. But you’re too frustrated to try anymore. 

You close your thighs and flop down onto the couch, letting a few tears escape.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly complain, slapping the couch out of frustration.

Your lamenting is interrupted by your phone going off. You look at it on the table and see it's the alarm you set to let you know to start getting ready. 

Great, you spent 45 minutes playing with yourself and still didn’t get any further than you had for the last 20-something years of your life. 

You were starting to think you should schedule an appointment with a doctor and find out if you were well and truly broken, but quickly decided against it. That would be fucking humiliating.

What would you say, “Hi, I can’t make myself orgasm and never have, please doctor, tell me if my vagina is broken?” Absolutely not. 

You collect your clothes from the living room floor and toss them in your laundry basket in your room before you take a very fast shower just to clean your own mess up. Then, you get dressed and ready for the shift you know is going to suck at the bar. 

At the door, you make sure you have your belongings. You turn out all your lights and lock the door behind you before setting off to the bar. 

It’s not a long walk, about 15 minutes away. But just the idea of stepping foot inside the bar fills you with dread. 

It was a little hole in the wall place, shady and seedy were the best ways to describe it. You got pretty good tips from the patrons most nights but your boss was the biggest piece of shit you’d ever had the misfortune of being in close proximity with. 

He had a very bad habit of putting his hands where they didn’t belong and cutting his employee’s pay for no reason – or reasons he completely made up. Your last paycheck was short because he claims that you ‘got enough in tips to make up the loss’ – you didn’t. And when you argued, he threatened to fire you. 

You were already living in the cheapest flat you could afford; it was run-down and poorly maintained. But it was better than not having a roof over your head. And it was a fight to even get hired at the shitty bar you worked at now, you weren’t willing to go back to looking for work. 

So you simply bit your tongue and took what money you could get. It wasn’t the first time he did it and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

You got to work as soon as you clocked in, greeting your coworkers with a tense smile that they returned. Everyone was in the same boat as you, after all. No one would choose to work here unless they were down on their luck like you.

The night started slow, slower than usual for a Friday night. Despite the place looking like it was going to fall down around you and the occasional rat that scampered across the floor, the bar was actually kind of a hotspot. The alcohol was cheap and your boss never cut anyone off so patrons were free to get as sloshed as they wanted. 

That also meant the customers tended to get rather unruly. 

Which is exactly what happened when the night inevitably picked up. More people came in, more drinks were ordered, and you were running around the place like mad to get drinks where they needed to be. 

You cast a glance to the clock behind the bar, sighing in relief when you realized you had 10 minutes left of this hell. 

You were sure you were a sight, clearly run ragged and ready to get the hell out of there and go home. Your feet were sore from the old, worn shoes you wore. They looked fine on the outside, cute, but the soles were worn down and provided absolutely no cushion. It was hell. 

“This goes to the corner table,” the bartender called over the loud voices of the bar. He was a nice guy, couldn’t be older than 20, but you honestly couldn’t even recall his name. 

You took the tray of shitty beer from the counter and quickly made your way to the corner table in the back, careful not to spill a drop. You placed the tray down and gave the guys at the table a charming smile.

“Here’s your drinks,” you said, placing a glass in front of all 4 of them. 

“Thanks, beautiful,” one of them slurred, given a drunken wink.

“Um, is there anything else you need?” you asked, ignoring his flirting, as you picked up the tray. 

“Maybe,” another one chuckled, leaning back in his seat, raking his eyes down your body. You wished you could crawl into a hole at the feeling of his gaze on you. Despite being fully clothed, it made you feel incredibly naked – like he could see through your clothes. 

It certainly wasn’t the first time a customer or two flirted with you. It was sort of a rampant problem in this bar, if you were honest.

“What is it you need?” you asked, wishing so badly you could just be free from the conversation. 

One of them pulled out a stack of money, waving it in front of your face, “I’ll tip you this if you show us your tits.”

Your cheeks burned hot in humiliation as the other three laughed and jeered. You shifted on your feet, tapping your fingers anxiously against the metal tray in your hands, envisioning yourself slamming it over their heads. 

“N-No thank you…I-I don’t think that would be appropriate,” you hope that they can’t hear the way your voice trembles over all the noise in the bar.

“Come on, sexy,” the one with the money grinned, licking over his teeth as his eyes narrowed on your chest, “Bet they’re real nice. C’mon, you need the money right? Why else would you be working at a place like this? Go on, just lift your shirt up and let us see them tits!”

“M-My shift is over, I really need to go,” you shakily smile and take a step back, “I-I hope you enjoy your night, boys.”

Your attempt to diffuse the situation and get out of it proved futile because when you attempted to flee, one of them clapped a firm hand around your wrist and tugged you forward. You stumbled on your feet, dropping the metal tray with a gasp, finding yourself nose to nose with one of them. The smell of alcohol was potent on his breath and it made your lip curl in disgust. You tried to tug yourself free of his grasp but his grip was too strong. 

The guy sitting on the other side of the one who had a hold on you reached over his buddy to yank the neckline of your shirt down, the cheap, worn material stretching with ease until it tore at the weakest point. You let out a horrified cry when your bra became visible to the group, all of them cheering and shouting degrading things right in your face. 

The one across the table reached down, you felt his hand against your breast through your bra and a lightning bolt of pure terror ripped through you. It was like everything happened in slow motion.

You could feel his thumb hook under your bra and start to tug, tears flooded your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You raised a hand and as hard as you could, slapped the one still holding you clean across the face. 

The entire table went still but his grasp loosened enough for you to turn on your heel and bolt as fast as you could into the staff room, covering your exposed bra with your arms as best you could. You passed one of your coworkers, her eyes wide in concern when she saw your state. 

She followed you into the staff room, closing the door quietly behind her. You stood in front of your locker, ripping it open as you attempted to collect your things but your mind was running too fast for you to actually make any meaningful movements.

Your coworker called your name and you paused.

“Hey, take a breath,” she whispered softly, placing a hand on your back. You realized you were hyperventilating. You attempted to level out your breathing, wiping the tears off of your cheeks only for more to replace them. 

“What happened?” she asked softly, “Do you want me to call someone? The police?”

You shake your head, opening your mouth to respond but only a little sob comes out. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. She looks nothing but sympathetic, softly patting your back and encouraging you to breathe deeply. 

The staff room door suddenly slams open, making both of you jump. Your boss storms in, completely red in the face and furious. 

“Get out,” he snaps at your coworker. 

She casts an apologetic look to you, squeezing your hand before she ducks her head and leaves the staff room. He slams the door behind her, locking it for good measure – leaving both of you alone. 

He advances on you faster than you can react, he wraps a hand around your throat and slams you against the lockers. It hurts but you can’t get a noise past the grip around your neck. You blink back the tears that are still coming, trying to see him more clearly.

“Are you broke in the fuckin’ head?!” he screams, a volume that makes your ears ring. You wonder if the patrons can hear it outside, “You put your hands on a customer?!”

“Th-They put their hands on me first!” you defended yourself, hoarse and choked under his grip, “They touched me!”

He only looks more furious, eyes falling to your ripped shirt and exposed bra. He grabs one side of the already torn shirt and yanks, ripping it the rest of the way. Your eyes go wide and your first instinct is to kick him but you’re panicked and uncoordinated so it misses its mark.

“I don’t give a shit if they forced you over the table and fucked you!” he howls, spitting all over your face in his rage, “You better think fast and hard about how you’re going to rectify this. Do you understand me?”

His grip tightens a bit more around your throat and you hastily nod, blubbering mindless apologies to try and appease him. He doesn’t look any less angry but lets you go nonetheless. Your knees are too shaky to hold you up so you slide down the lockers until you’re sitting on the dirty floor.

“You go out there and you apologize to them,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “Or I’m going to fire you and you’re gonna be out on the fuckin’ streets, got it?”

You nod your head, holding back your sobs but can’t control the tears that fall down your cheeks. He sends you one last glare before turning back to the door, unlocking it and throwing it open. 

You’re left there, trembling on the floor and quietly crying to yourself. Your heart is racing and you’ve never felt more terrified and humiliated in your life.

The door opens again and you look up in horror at the idea of your boss coming back. But it’s your coworker again. 

She quietly crouches next to you and gives you a once over, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I-I have to apologize t-to them,” you manage to choke out. 

Her eyes widened, “No way! You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I can’t lose this job,” you sob, pressing the heel of your hands to your eyes as you cry, “I need this job. He says he’ll fire me if I don’t apologize!”

“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go with you, okay? You can apologize and then you can go, that’s it.”

You nod your head and stand up, using the lockers as a crutch. Your coworker helps you steady yourself before she sees your shirt is ripped even more than when she left.

She whispers your name, “Are you sure he didn’t…”

“He only ripped it,” you assure her, sniffling softly, “But I can’t go out there like this.”

It dawns on you that you forgot a jacket. It was a little warmer today than it had been in days and you had simply neglected to bring one. 

“You can borrow my hoodie,” she assures, opening her locker to tug it out, handing it to you, “Go on, you can return it to me another day.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, clumsily sliding it over your head. You feel much better now that you’re covered up, you feel less vulnerable. You quickly collect all your belongings so you can leave as soon as you get this over with.

You let her lead you out of the staff room. The second you’re out, the blaring noise immediately proves to be too much. You wipe your eyes, using the sleeve of the hoodie. You make a note to wash it properly when you return it. 

You feel the eyes of strangers on you and it just makes you feel worse with every passing second. You want to go home. You want to shower. You want to crawl into bed. You want Simon. 

You let her lead you to the table, all the men are still there laughing and drinking their beers. They fall silent when you approach, four pairs of eyes falling on you, making you feel humiliated and small. They look expectant, the one who ripped your shirt tapping his fingers against the table. 

“There you are!” the one who had held your wrist grinned. It was a predatory smile that made your heart race anxiously, “Thought you were gonna run away without apologizing for bein’ a raging bitch.”

You flinch at the insult and your coworker squeezes your hand in support, “I-I’m sorry for slapping you.”

“That’s fuckin’ right!” another one jeered, “Practically ruined our night. How are you going to make it up to us?”

“I’ve got a few ideas!” a different once laughed. The other three joined in eagerly.

“How about you stay back late and really make it up to us, huh?” you squeezed your coworkers hand in yours, already feeling the tears returning with a vengeance.

“How about I bring you a round on me, huh?” she quickly intervenes, “I’ll buy.”

That seems to do it for the 4 men and they rambunctiously cheer and slam their hands on the table obnoxiously. You think you hear her promise to be back with their drinks as she pulls you away from the table. You both hide away in the staff room again and she holds both your hands in hers.

“Go on home,” she says softly.

“I-I’ll pay you back for the drinks–” she shushes you quickly when you start.

“Don’t even worry about it,” she coos, “Go home.”

With a gentle nudge to the back entrance, she casts you one last kind smile before slipping out of the staff door. 

You don’t even remember the walk home, your mind completely fuzzy. But you’re sobbing again by the time you stumble into the door. You collapse onto the floor in front of your couch, wailing into the cushions as the weight of the night fully and entirely collapses on you. You can barely breathe through your tears, hiccups and coughs breaking up the endless crying only to resume when you catch your breath. 

You have no idea how long you sit there, crying louder and harder than you have in a very, very long time. 

You hear your front door creak open before the living room light flips on. You go completely stiff, your crying finally going silent as you hear the familiar heavy footsteps step into the living room before they fall still when he sees you.

He calls your name, soft and gentle in a way that is completely unlike him. Simon isn’t soft, he talks to you in a cold, apathetic and teasing tone. He’s always clipped and blunt. Sure, he’s kind but never gentle.

Just the sweet tone makes your lips wobble and suddenly you’re sobbing again. His boots hit the floor fast, taking quick, big strides so he can reach you as fast as he possibly can. Two strong hands hook under your arms and turn you towards him. He takes a seat beside you on the floor and tugs you into lap.

You melt into his chest, secured by his embrace as he holds you. One hand cups the back of your head and the other wraps around your back. 

“You didn’t answer your phone when I called,” he explained his arrival, lips pressed to the crown of your head, “Got worried so I rushed over.”

You grip his hoodie in your hands, anchoring yourself to him as you cry and cry. He remains silent, content to hold you and let you cry out everything you’re feeling. 

Just having him there, holding you and comforting you, is enough to ease your tears until you’re just a hiccuping, sniffling mess. You’re taking those quick, stuttering gasping breaths that signify the end of your meltdown and Simon slowly eases his hold on you. 

He cups your cheek in one hand, raising your head up so he can really look at you. He rubs a thumb under your eye, wiping away your tears. He looks so concerned, brows furrowed and a frown on his lips. 

The sight of his face makes your lips wobble again, “Si…” you finally manage to choke out.

His gaze softens immediately, his other hand coming up to cup your face as well. He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“You want to tell me what happened?” he finally asks, letting go of your face to hold your waist, keeping you curled up in his lap. 

You think about it. You want to tell him all about it, to get it off of your chest and figure out how the hell you’re supposed to move past it. But you know that if you tell him, he’s going to march his ass to your job the second he gets a chance and put your boss’s head through the wall and find those assholes from the table. 

You really can’t afford to lose your job. Your bills are tight enough as it is, you’re scraping by by the skin of your teeth. If you’re jobless for even a week, it’s going to fuck everything up. You’ll never make rent and you can’t end up on the street. 

“Just a…bad shift…” you supply lamely.

Simon stares at you, jaw set and tense, “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact you’re lying in the first place or the fact you don’t think you can tell me what really happened.”

“Simon…” you whine, pushing yourself off of his lap, “Just let it go, please.”

He follows your lead when you stand up. He still hasn’t taken his boots off, still too concerned about you to care. Every step he takes is a loud sound of his weight in those boots. 

You pace back and forth, arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m not letting it go,” he responds, “I think you know me better than that.”

“Simon, please!” you feel the tears returning again and you suddenly realize how tired you are from crying. Your eyes are sore and you just want to sleep. 

“I want to know what happened,” he argues, clearly growing exasperated. 

You know he’s not going to let it go. He knows you too well to believe any lies. You press your hands to your face and let out a noise of frustration and despair. You can feel his eyes on you, unwavering and firm. You feel hot, like you’re overheating and suffocated. With trembling hands, you haphazardly tug at the hoodie – you need it off or you’re going to go mad. 

Simon reaches forward to help you, watching your rising panic but you slap his hands away. He looks stupefied at your reaction but retracts his hands. 

But you can’t get the damned thing off, you’re uncoordinated and clumsy, unable to pull your arms through the sleeves so you can get it off. Why won’t it come off? 

“G-Get it off,” you finally cry, completely unaware of the pure horror in your voice.

Simon’s hands are back, “I’ve got you. I’ll get it off ya.” 

True to his word, he tugs it up and it slips over your head with ease. You feel like you can take a deep breath finally, feeling the cool air of your living room against your skin again. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to calm yourself. 

He says your name softly but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. You jump when you feel the ghost of his fingers against your stomach – the skin is bare and it makes your eyes fly open. You look down and remember that your shirt was completely torn open, the hoodie had been hiding it, and now Simon is seeing. You can see the realization in his face.

He’s not an idiot. If anything, he’s more intelligent than anyone you’ve ever known. 

Suddenly your stomach turns and you place a hand over your mouth. You’re running down the hallway, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet as you heave. 

You don’t hear any movement from Simon. He doesn’t follow you to the bathroom. You’re briefly thankful for the escape as the nausea disappears before you suddenly crave to have him near you again.

“Simon!” you cry, his footfalls an immediate response. 

He crouches beside you, placing a hand on your back, “You finished?”

You nod, spitting one last time into the toilet, “I-I want to shower.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he stands, stepping past you to turn on the shower for you. He places a consoling hand on the top of your head in passing before he goes to leave you alone. You reach out and grab his hand before he can get too far.

He pauses and looks at you, easily understanding. He brushes his thumb over your hand, “Not goin’ anywhere, love.”

He takes a step outside of the bathroom and stands there, hands held in front of him as if he were on guard, like a security guard. You flush the toilet and shakily strip your clothes off before stepping into the shower, letting the warm spray ease your sore body and clear your sinuses. You’re terribly stuffy from crying so you can’t even smell your grapefruit body wash this time.

You finish your shower, making sure you scrub your body as best you can before you step out and wrap a towel around your body.

“Are you hungry?” Simon suddenly asks.

“No…” your tone is flatter than you had intended and you realize that you’re completely emotionally drained. 

“Alright,” is all he says in reply.

You approach the door, where he’s still standing. You place your hand against his back and he quickly steps aside to let you by. You hear his boots behind you as he follows you to your bedroom. 

You sit on the bed, completely exhausted. Simon makes himself busy with going through your dresser, pulling out some clothes for you to wear before he places them on the bed beside you. You don’t make any movements. 

He sighs, softly saying your name before crouching in front of you, taking your hands in his. 

“Was it your boss?” he asks softly. 

“Him and some assholes I was serving drinks to,” you tiredly answer. You don’t have it in you to fight in anymore. 

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” he pries, squeezing your hands.

“Because I know you, Si,” you sniffle, “You’re going to go down there and put them all in the hospital when you find them.”

“And?” he scoffs, “They fuckin’ deserve it. No one gets to put their hands on you like that and get away with it.”

“Because I can’t lose my job, Si!” you finally cry, “I barely make ends meet as it is! I-If I lose my job, what am I supposed to do? I won’t be able to afford rent. I’ll be on the streets!”

“I would never let that happen,” he says firmly, “You will never be on the streets, love. I will always take care of you, you know that.”

“I can’t do that to you, Simon,” you mutter, sniffling again, “Y-You already have so much on your plate I don’t want to be another problem you have to deal with.”

“Is that what you think?” he scoffs, standing up, “That I deal with you? You’re important to me, I take care of you because I never want anything to happen to you. I’m not going to let you work at that shithole for a minute longer.”

You hang your head, unable to supply any arguments to him anymore.

“I’m going to make you something small to eat. You’re going to eat and drink some water and then you’re going to get some rest, understood?” he gives a satisfied hum when you nod your head in compliance. 

Once you’re alone, you go over his words again. You’re important to him, that’s what he said. It was the most clear he had ever been with his feelings towards you since you confessed your feelings when you were young. 

As you methodically got dressed in the clothes he picked out for you, you reminisced. Memories of him were always something that made you inexplicably happy – except for one memory.

You were 14 and he was 17 at the time. You’d known each other for your entire childhood after his mother had brought him over for a playdate despite the age difference and the fact you were closer in age to his brother. 

He had always looked after you and taken care of you, walking you home after school and simply looking after you when your parents were busy. It was inevitable that you would grow feelings for him. You remember the way your heart would race every time you looked at him. You remember telling your friends that he was your boyfriend, hoping he wouldn’t find out.

You had told him one evening when he was hanging out, having dinner with your family, that you liked him – like liked. 

You remember how you cried into your pillow night after night when he rejected you. Told you flat out that you were an idiot and to drop it and never, ever bring it up again. That he didn’t feel the same. And that was that. 

You never brought it up again. 

But the crush never once waned. You decided that his friendship was more important than your feelings for him so you would never let him know. And that’s how it had been ever since. 

Simon’s voice calling your name ripped you from your reminiscing. You tied the drawstrings of the sweats he had picked out and quickly made your way to the kitchen. 

Simon was washing a pan by the time you arrived but he nodded to a plate he set on the counter for you. It was just a small omelet he made, complete with a light drizzle of ketchup. 

He knew you well, you couldn’t deny. You picked up the fork he’d placed on the plate for you and slowly began to eat. 

After being sick, your stomach was painfully empty so you were happy to have something on it once again. Simon quietly finished washing the dishes he had dirtied before he placed them on the dish rack and dried his hands. 

“Um, Simon?” you called softly, receiving a grunt in reply, “Didn’t you have something going on tonight?”

“Was gonna be out the lads,” he responded, “Doesn’t matter, can hang out with those idiots anytime.”

“You shouldn’t talk about your friends like that,” you said, shaking your head as you took a final bite of your omelet.

“Aint my friends,” he reached down and took your plate from you, tossing it into the sink.

“Simon Riley doesn’t have friends?” you asked, eyes following him as he locked up your apartment and started to turn out the lights.

“Got you,” he said as you followed him down the hall, “All I need.”

A fond smile made its way across your face as he yanked his shirt above his head. You began to make yourself comfortable in bed, trying to keep your eyes off of him as he got dressed for bed. Despite the way you wanted to take the chance to look at him.

Friends. That’s what you were, you reminded yourself. 

Finally, he climbed into bed beside you, making himself comfortable before you turned out the light. 

Yet, despite your exhaustion from the night, you felt like you couldn’t close your eyes. You felt like you couldn’t relax. The tension in your body was so much that you were sore. Like you had gone to the gym instead of went to work. 

“Simon..?” you whispered into the dark. He was silent for a second before he hummed in response, “Can I…tell you what happened tonight?”

He was quiet again but you felt him move, a hand blindly reaching over to you to find your hands. You took it in both of yours, nervously fidgeting with his fingers. 

“This stupid group of guys were sloshed beyond belief,” you began to tell him, aware of his gaze on you through the dark, “They were just chattin’ shit, saying they’d tip me if I showed them my tits,” he scoffed beside you, clearly displeased, “I said no and tried to leave and they wouldn’t let me. One of them ripped my shirt and tried to pull my bra up so I slapped him.”

“Fuckin’ bastard deserved to get his teeth knocked down his throat,” Simon growled from beside you.

“I got away and went to the staff room but my boss came in and he was so fucking angry, Si,” your voice shook as you remembered the way his face had been so red and a look of pure hate had been in his eyes, “He grabbed my throat and pinned against the lockers. He was angry that I had struck a customer.”

“Of course that’s all that bastard would be angry about,” Simon spit, not bothering to hide his distaste.

“I tried to tell him that I was defending myself but he said–” your voice broke and you struggled to blink back the tears. Simon sat up a bit, pulling you into his chest, letting you curl against him, the rapid hum of his heart loud in your ear, easing you immediately, “He said that he didn’t care if they put me over the table and fucked me, he would fire me if I didn’t apologize to them.”

Simon’s arms tightened around you immediately, cursing under his breath, “He made you apologize to them?” 

You nod your head, “It was so humiliating, Si. B-But I just didn’t want to lose my job. They just laughed at me and made a joke of it.”

“Pieces of shit,” he hisses, pressing a kiss against your temple, “They better hope I don’t find them.”

You’d really love to see them blubbering on their knees, crying and terrified like you had been. They wouldn’t be so awful in the face of a guy bigger and stronger than them – someone like Simon. 

“I should have gone to the bar tonight,” he sighed, “Even though you told me not to, I wanted to.”

“It’s okay, Si,” you sniffle, “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

You wrap your leg around his waist and snuggle deeper into his chest, finally feeling content to sleep so long as you got to be in his arms. 

You wake up late, well into the afternoon. You’re groggy and struggle to pull yourself out of bed. Simon isn’t in bed, so you force yourself up in search of him. 

As you left, you noticed that the clothes you were wearing last night were gone and weren’t in the laundry basket. You knew for a fact that you left them on the floor. 

He’s relaxing on the couch as usual. His hair is wet and you can smell your body wash wafting off of him when you crawl onto the couch beside him. He reaches a hand out and pets your head gently as a greeting.

“Sleep well?” he asks. You nod your head, “Hungry?” You nod again.

He huffs through his nose and stands up, pressing a fleeting kiss to the top of your head to go prepare something for you to eat. The sound of Simon bustling about the kitchen filled the apartment and you found yourself relaxing into the couch. 

“Simon?” you called, getting to your feet to make your way to the kitchen. 

He had his back to you as he fried up something in the pan but he hummed in response nonetheless.

“Where did my clothes from last night go?” you ask softly.

He pauses his stirring of the food, “Threw them out. Figured you wouldn’t want to see them when you woke up.”

“Oh,” you respond. 

Your heart feels full at his show of care. It was quiet actions like that that just made you feel so…in love, you think before correcting yourself. Fluttery. Cared for. Loved. 

No, he doesn’t love you.

You shake your head and move to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, going to sit on the couch to wait for Simon to finish cooking. 

The day was spent like that, just you and Simon in your flat. Him just keeping you company and keeping your mind off of things. 

You were curled up against him, listening to the beating of his heart and watching the movie he had decided to play. It was peaceful. He smelled nice, like you. And he was so comfortable beneath you, firm and big. 

His thighs were spread wide, one of your legs thrown over one of his, only serving to make you more aware of how big and firm he was. Solid. Well-built. 

Handsome.

You cast a glance at his face. His brown eyes were half-lidded as he mindlessly nibbled at his bottom lip. They looked soft and shiny. You wondered what he tasted like, how he kissed.

Was he rough? Soft? Did he like to use tongue. 

You’d never kissed anyone before. You wondered if he would be okay with that. You knew some guys liked experienced partners and some liked them inexperienced. You wonder what he preferred. 

Just the idea of kissing him had your heart hammering in your chest and your face burning. You quickly looked at the TV, snuggling closer to him. He squeezed you closer, hand mindlessly rubbing up and down your back. 

Kissing Simon…you pictured him over you, cupping your cheeks in the way he always does. You imagine him pressing his pretty lips against yours, moving them softly against yours. You imagine what it would feel like for him to pin you down, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you moaned and whimpered beneath him, unable to move anywhere because he’s so much bigger and stronger than you. In charge. 

Your pussy clenches around nothing, already starting to drip into your panties. Suddenly you sit up, eyes wide and cheeks flush. Simon looks perturbed, an eyebrow raised at your sudden movement.

“I’ve got to take a shower,” you shakily supply before fleeing to the safety of the bathroom.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hand over your mouth to quiet your heavy breathing. 

What the hell was wrong with you? How the hell could you be thinking about sex and getting turned on after yesterday? How could you be thinking about Simon like that when he was right there? What the fuck was your problem?

You hastily reached over and turned the shower on, the pipes clanking loudly as the water flowed through them. 

Shouldn’t you be the opposite of horny after what happened yesterday? Maybe you really were broken. 

You strip and quickly step into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would possibly go. You needed it to hurt so you would stop acting like such a freak. Like a slut. 

You fight back tears as you begin to wash up. 

By the time your shower is done, you’re exhausted again. You dry off and wrap the towel around yourself, opening the door to find Simon standing on the other side. You jump and gasp, placing a hand over your heart to calm the beating.

“You scared me!” you whine, slipping past him to the bedroom.

“Wanted to check on you,” he says, following slowly behind you, watching as you pick out clothes.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “I just got really tired and I’d like to turn in early, that’s all.”

“Alright,” he replies, standing there for a second before making his way back to the door, “Just call if you need anything.”

“I will!” you offer him a smile, watching as he leaves, closing the door behind him. 

You quickly dress and climb into bed, turning the lights out before squeezing your eyes shut to will yourself to sleep. Surprisingly, it came quickly and easily – maybe you were more tired than you thought. 

Little did you know that Simon took the opportunity of you sleeping early to slip away and take a little 15 minute walk. 

When you start to dream, you’re acutely aware that it’s a dream. You’re not sure how but, you just know that you’re sleeping and none of this is real.

But god it feels real and you want it to be real so you go along with it. 

Simon is there, you’re both in your bed. He’s got his shirt off and he’s on top of you, kissing your neck softly. Sweetly. 

He doesn’t smell like your body wash anymore, he smells like his – a crisp, musky scent that you love so dearly. And he’s so warm against you. 

You realize that you’re only wearing a pair of panties when his lips suddenly attach to your breast, mouthing at your nipple. His tongue swirls over the bud and it feels so good you can’t help but moan. 

“Si…” you sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. He rewards you by surging up and pressing his lips against yours. He tastes vaguely like mint and it’s intoxicating. So simple, nothing special or poetic. Just mint. Simon. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kiss him back. Kissing is easy, you hazily think. You just move your lips in time with his and it falls into place. 

Simon’s hips move against yours and you cry out when you feel the hard swell of his cock press against you through his sweatpants and your panties. He’s so hard and it's so hot even through the layers of clothes. 

“Si…” you whimper again.

“I’m here, love,” he coos, “I’ve got you.”

He rocks his hips against yours and fuck, it feels good. You eagerly spread your legs and find yourself wishing that the panties weren’t in the way. You’d love to hear the sticky sound of your pussy against his cock through his sweats. You’d love to see the stain of your slick against them, knowing that you marked him as yours like that. 

You feel hot, that tense warmth growing in your tummy. The promise of pleasure that you’ve never been able to experience. Maybe Simon could supply it. You’re sure he could, actually, you convince yourself.

If he just keeps going, keeps rutting his hips like that, you could cum all messy in your panties. Just for him. Only for him. 

Just as you swear it’s going to wash over you, your eyes fly open and you gasp. Your entire body feels hot and sweaty and you realize you’ve thrown your blanket off of your body. The sun is shining through the window and Simon is nowhere to be seen in bed. 

You swallow, your throat feeling painfully dry. 

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaks open and Simon comes in with a laundry basket. He casts a glance at you and seems to relax when he realizes you’re awake.

“Was doin’ some laundry,” he explains, turning to open your drawers to begin putting the clean clothes away.

“Oh,” you whisper, sounding hoarse, “Thank you, Si.”

As you watch him, you realize he seems tenser than usual. You sit up and bed and watch him put the clothes away until he’s finished. He stands there for a moment before looking over his shoulder at you.

“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I’ve gotta go tonight.”

“Go?” you ask, eyes going wide. You don’t want him to leave, “Go where?”

“I’ve got some work to take care of,” he replies, “Paperwork I’ve been puttin’ off. Gonna pull a late one to get it done.”

“I-I don’t want you to go,” you confess softly, trying to blink back the tears that sting your eyes. You feel so pathetic, crying because he needs to leave. But you haven’t been without him since it happened and you’re scared to be alone with just your thoughts.

“I know,” he hums, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, cupping your cheek, “I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Promise?” you ask. He nods, teasingly pinching your cheek before you smile and bat his hand away. When he pulls it back you notice his knuckles – bruised and split open. They weren’t like that last night you were sure of it, “Simon…”

He catches you looking and gives you a tense smile, “Don’t worry about it.”

He stands up and kisses your forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving you to get ready for the day. 

Thankfully, Simon remains around for the day. You notice he’s on his phone a lot more, typing away. It’s unlike him, he’s more the type to do phone calls rather than text. When you ask him about it he just waves you off with an explanation about Soap being on his ass. 

You have a feeling he’s lying but you don’t pry. 

Before he leaves, he makes you dinner. You walk him to the door, unable to stop the pout on your face when he puts his boots on. You can’t help but wish that he’d change his mind at the last second and stay with you after all. 

But he doesn’t. He pulls his balaclava over his face and slips his hood up before turning back to you. 

“Don’t cry, love,” he coos, wiping a stray tear away, “I promise I’ll get all my work done and I’ll be all yours for a good long while.”

“Okay…” you sound so miserable but you can’t bring yourself to care, “I’ll miss you.”

He brings you in for a hug, making sure to squeeze you nice and tight before he pulls back. He can’t give you his normal kiss because of the mask and that only makes you sadder. 

You don’t want him to go. You don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep him close. He makes you feel safe. He makes you feel complete. You love him so much. 

You hold onto his hoodie for as long as you can until he has to shake you off and close the door behind him. And you stand there for a long time. Like a puppy who's been left home alone for the first time, just waiting for its owners to come back because it’s scared it’s going to be alone forever. 

By the time you bring yourself to leave the door, the food Simon made you is cold. That only seems to make you feel worse. 

Then you sit on the couch and watch TV, feeling hopelessly alone. You wished you had Simon to curl into and snuggle with. The tiny couch has never felt bigger. 

You shower and brush your teeth, pouting at the sight of his toothbrush, another reminder that he isn’t there. 

Before that night at the bar, you never would have felt so isolated without him; lonely, sure. But now that you’re experiencing this gut-wrenching emptiness, you feel close to tears every time you think about him. He was truly your rock, the only thing that brought you comfort. You loved him.

You flop against the bed and let the tears fall down your temples. You love him. You do.

You’re so fucking in love with him that it hurts. Your heart aches in your chest. You want him there to hold you. 

You know he doesn’t feel the same, you know it will never become anything. But you’re willing to take whatever you can get. Just his company. You can be content so long as he’s with you, as long as he’s in your life. 

But you can think about him, imagine yourself telling him how you feel. Imagine that when he holds you close that he feels the same too. That he loves you. You want him to love you so desperately. 

You wish that he loved you. 

You curled into his pillow, sniffling pathetically as you closed your eyes. You cry yourself to sleep. 

Your eyes fly open and the gasp you let out changes to a sob. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. All you see is flashes of their faces in your head. All you can feel are their hands on you. 

A nightmare, your brain supplies but it does nothing to quell your anxiety and fear.

You reach for Simon, instinctive and desperate. But you only touch the cold mattress and you’re reminded that he isn’t home tonight. 

You fumble through the sheets to find your phone.

I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there. 

He promised.

You can barely see the screen as you look for his contact. You call him, hands trembling as you hold it to your ear. It rings and rings and rings. Then beeps and goes to voicemail.

You hang up and try again. And again. And again.

He doesn’t answer. Why won’t he answer? He promised.

You call him again but it goes straight to voicemail. You can practically feel your heart shatter in your chest. He was ignoring your calls. He ignored you. 

But he had promised he would come when you needed him. And you needed him. 

Your phone becomes completely blurry through your tears as you begin to cry in earnest. You feel hurt, betrayed, disappointed, and angry. You’re fucking angry. 

You suddenly need to let it out. So you take your phone in your hand and throw it, listening to it slam against the wall. It’s loud and the light on your screen goes out. But you don’t feel better. You’re still a mess of volatile emotions. It feels like it’s all bottled up inside you and it hurts. 

You take his pillow and grip it in your fists. You want to rip it to shreds, want to tear it open and release all your anger on it. Instead, you just slam your fists against it. 

Then you do it again. And again. And again. 

You punch the damned thing as you cry and cry. You’re sure you must be a sight. You must be making so much noise as you sob and shriek. 

You were angry at what happened to you, you were angry you had apologize to them for hurting you, you were angry because you couldn’t even sleep peacefully without being plagued by a nightmare the first night you were without Simon, and you were angry he broke his fucking promise. 

Before long, all you were doing was sobbing into his pillow – wailing and crying your broken heart out. You tire yourself out, completely exhausted of all emotions. You lay there, quietly hiccuping and sniffling, just staring into the inky darkness. 

You’re there for hours, unable to fall back asleep. The sun slowly creeps over the horizon and begins to cast an orange glow around the room. 

You can’t even find beauty in it. You’re so exhausted. Your heart aches. It’s agonizing. 

It’s early morning by the time you hear your front door open. You don’t feel excited to see him. You’re not happy he’s back. You don’t feel anything, actually. All you can do is slowly blink, gaze focused outside the window where you can faintly hear birds chirping. 

You wish you were a bird so you could fly away wherever you want. You would fly away from here right now if you could. You wanted to leave. 

You didn’t want to see Simon. You were so angry at him. You’ve never felt like this about him before. You don’t know what to do. All you can think right now is how much you hate him. 

God, you hate him. 

He’s surprisingly quiet as he walks through your apartment. You hear him push the door open, your back to him. But you can feel his eyes on you, can feel how he hovers in the doorway. 

He wanders further into the room before pausing. 

He rounds to your side of the bed and sees that you’re awake, simply staring out the window. He holds your phone up, screen clearly shattered before he places it on the table beside you. 

“You called,” he says softly, shifting anxiously on his feet. Simon’s never anxious. But he is right now, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I was just…busy. Had some unruly recruits, you know how it is.”

Your eyes finally move from the window, landing on him. He’s wearing the same thing he was last night. Just some jeans and white t-shirt. It’s a nice one, it fits him well and it looks comfy. 

Simon stands there under your gaze, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He’s not used to feeling scrutinized. And that’s exactly what your gaze feels like. 

Your eyes wander to a strange discoloration on his shirt. It’s tan, just a light stain. There’s a tiny smear of black as well. Then you spot the red on his collar, ruby red. 

He looks guilty. He would look like a kicked puppy if you didn’t know any better. This isn’t guilt because he missed your call. He’s guilty because he was too busy getting his dick wet to answer you. 

That’s why he ignored you? To fuck someone?

You’re no longer numb. You’re angry again. That overwhelming feeling that you have no idea how to let out. It’s like it just boils up inside you, like a pot boiling over. It has no place to go but out. 

You’re moving before you even have a chance to register it. You just need to show him how angry you are. Fucking furious. 

You grab the empty glass on your nightstand and wail it in his direction harder than you thought possible. Simon barely dodges, slamming himself against the wall as it shatters behind him. 

Now he looks angry. Good. Maybe he’ll feel a fraction of what you feel right now. 

“Are you out of your fucking head?” he snarls, animosity dripping off of every syllable. 

You don’t even answer, grabbing a book that you have stacked there before throwing that too. Then the second book. Then the third book. Then you throw your phone at him. Then you take the lamp, rip the plug right from the wall and throw that too. 

When you’re out of things to throw on the table you throw your pillow. It’s when you’re about to throw his pillow that he finally has enough. He rips it from your grasp and tosses it across the room. 

He’s standing there, fists balled at his sides and his shoulders heaving up and down as he tries to calm himself. 

“I hate you,” you finally spit, standing on your knees. You don’t have anything to throw so you slam your hands against his chest. You hit him, crying and sobbing as you wail over and over about how you hate him. You hate him so fucking much. 

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” you scream. You’re so loud you’re sure the neighbors can hear but you don’t care. It feels good to let your anger out on him, to punch and slap and claw at his shoulders, chest, and arms. He doesn’t do anything but stand there and let you. He’d never lay a hand on you, even when you’re doing it to him, “I needed you and you were too busy fucking some stupid whore?!”

He doesn’t say anything but he’s trembling now. You’re not sure if he’s just that angry or if he’s holding himself back from wringing your neck. 

You pause to look up at him. His jaw is set hard but he’s staring at you, his usual lazy, lidded look nowhere to be found. He looks enraged. 

“Aren’t you going to say something?” you spit, raising your hand as if you’re going to slap him across the face but you stop. You don’t want to do that. 

“Say what?” he finally responds, voice so cold you swear it drops the room’s temperature, “I have a life that doesn’t revolve around you. That’s the difference between us. You need me but I don’t need you.”

You sit back on your heels at that, the hurt clear on your face. Simon doesn’t seem to care in the slightest now, as tears trickle down your face. You must look a sight, pathetically gazing up at him as he glares down at you like you’re dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.

“You hate me?” he scoffs, “That’s just fine. We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

He turns on his heel at that and storms out of your room, slamming your bedroom door behind him. It practically rattles the walls. Then you hear the same thing from the front door. 

And you’re all alone. And you can’t do anything but cry about it. 

You find it impossible to get out of bed after that. You lay there for the rest of the day. Then all night. You fitfully sleep when you can’t bear to be awake anymore and then wake when the nightmares hit. 

Then you watch the sun come up and decide that it’s a good day to spend in bed. So you do. You sleep on and off, only waking to cry when you’re plagued with nightmares. 

You occasionally think about Simon. More than occasionally, actually. He’s always on your mind.

You think everything over and come to the conclusion that this was all your fault. From the beginning, really. You’d been keen on staying in his life since you were children, attached yourself to his side and weaseled your way into his life. Really, you gave him no choice but to put up with you. 

He was everything to you. He was right, you needed him. You didn’t have anyone else. No friends, no family, not even a pet. Just him. Always just him. 

What choice did he have other than to put up with you day after day? He didn’t need you like you needed him, after all. He’d surely been spending his days in dread of you – of your texts, your calls. 

This was probably what he was waiting for; an escape. He probably wanted to leave a long, long time ago. You were in love with him and he wanted nothing to do with you. 

What were you thinking? Actually believing that he would want to spend his days with you, taking care of you. Who were you kidding, you were just an idiot for letting yourself believe otherwise. 

You wake up one day and realize you’re not angry anymore. Just sad. You almost prefer the anger and emptiness compared to the unending waves of sadness. 

You cry all the time. Day and night. 

You try to use your phone, you want to call him but it’s broken. The screen won’t even turn on. You’re completely alone, can’t even contact somebody – not that you have anyone but him. 

God, that was embarrassing now that you thought about it. There he was going out and getting laid and you’ve been holding out for him since you were a kid. 

You’re suddenly aware of the fact you haven’t showered in days. You’ve barely eaten, only getting up once or twice to find something to nibble on in the kitchen – a slice of bread is what you usually settle on. 

You pry yourself up from your mattress and stumble to the bathroom. The clanging of pipes is louder than it’s ever been but the hot water is completely welcome. 

When you stand there, under the burning heat that makes your skin raw, you slowly sink to the shower floor. You haven’t cleaned it in a while but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You let yourself cry again, since it’s all you can do. By the time you’re done, the water is running cold and you stand up to quickly wash yourself with soap so you can at least be clean for the next few days until you can bring yourself to shower again. 

It’s when you’re crawling into bed that it suddenly dawns on you that you don’t have a job. You hadn’t shown up to your shift in days. And you don’t have Simon anymore. 

Panic takes shape and you realize you can’t relax. If you don’t find a job soon you’re going to be on your ass and homeless by next month. 

You haul yourself out of bed and begin rooting through your drawers for something to wear. 

Maybe you can go back to the bar and beg for your job back. You’ll do anything if you have to. 

You’re going to prove to yourself and to Simon that you’ll make it without him – and you won’t end up hanging from a fucking rope. 

The sunlight practically burns your skin from not feeling it in a while. Winter is coming in and it’s already damn cold out and you can see your breath. But you ignore it, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself as you book it for the bar. 

You’re filled with utter dread as soon as you open the door. There’s a couple patrons already drinking and you wonder what day it is. 

You look around, searching for your old boss. He’s nowhere on the floor so you make your way to the staff room and ultimately his office in the very back. 

You only realize you’re trembling when you raise your hand to knock on the door. But you bite back your fear when you’re reminded that you need the job. You need it. 

“Enter,” you hear his chilling voice call. You take a breath and push the door open. He freezes the second he lays eyes on you, he sports a black eye and a busted lip, “You.” 

“M-Mr. Dawson,” you shakily whisper, “I-I know I haven’t showed up in a few days and I’m really sorry but–”

“You want your job back,” he finishes, tossing his head back to laugh, “You want your fucking job back? After you sent that fucking lunatic here?”

“Sent who…?” you ask softly, willing your knees to stop quaking. 

“That asshole in the skull mask. Beat the shit out of me and my blasted customers. You think I’m going to let you back in after that?” he laughs again, “You’re out of your fucking mind, you dumb bitch.”

You wince at the insult, “I-I didn’t send him. H-He was a friend of mine and he did it on his own but–”

“You can have your job back,” he says suddenly, making you freeze, “If you come over here and bend over my desk for me.”

“What..?” you ask softly, watching him sit back and lick his lips as his eyes raked down your body.

“You heard me,” he snickers, “Bend over my desk and let me fuck you and I’ll let you have your job back.”

Granted, for a second, you think about it. You really do. To just let him do it. But you can’t. You know you can't, you would never do that to yourself. 

“N-No,” you find yourself whispering, “I won’t do that…”

His smile fades quickly when you say that and his lip curls in disgust and anger, “Should have let those blokes take you out back and leave you bloody in the alleyway like you deserve.”

You leave with your head hanging low and find yourself standing on the street, fighting tears. You only feel worse than before you went in. 

When you get home, you stand there and cry. That’s all you’ve been doing lately, crying. At this rate, Simon’s prophecy is going to come true and you’re going to be hanging from a damn rope. It sounds nice right about now, actually. Anything to stop the horrific pain that you feel. 

You crawl back into bed and don’t get back up that night. Or the next day. 

The only thing that gets you up the day after that is a painful twang in your stomach. You stumble your way to the kitchen and pull out the loaf of bread you’ve been nibbling at but frown when you see some pieces have begun to mold. 

You take a look in the fridge, finding it painfully empty. The vegetables and fruits that were in there have gone bad now. The meat you had bought was all used up from when Simon cooked. You didn’t even have any cup ramens because you opted to not buy any last time. 

So you resort yourself to tearing the moldy parts off the bread and eating what's left. 

As you stand there, you realize you feel so tired. Like your legs can’t hold you up, so you allow yourself to sink to the floor, back leaning against the cabinet. 

You almost want to laugh at yourself over what you’ve become. Eating moldy bread on the kitchen floor and crying to yourself. 

You place the bread in the refrigerator in hopes that that will stop its rotting process but you don’t have much hope. 

Then, you’re back in bed. And you’re so exhausted. It’s impossible to keep your eyes open any longer. So you sleep. 

But then you have another nightmare. You can’t even remember what it was about, you’re too exhausted to even jolt awake like you usually do. 

Instead, your eyes open and they’re already filled with tears before you even get the chance to register the fact you’re awake. 

So you lay like that. For a long time. Just staring at nothing. The tears stop on their own and you’re left exhausted as usual. It’s become your default state and you begin to wonder if you’re going to feel this broken and hurt forever. 

You zone out, letting your mind go hazy and erase all thoughts from it. 

You don’t even hear your front door open. Don’t hear the boots on the floor. Don’t hear your bedroom door open. 

You hear a call of your name and that gets your attention. But you don’t hear anything else. 

Your imagination? You don’t have a lamp anymore to turn on. You’d thrown it at Simon and it broke.

Suddenly, light floods your bedroom and you bolt up in bed. A large, familiar figure blocks your doorway, a silhouette against the now illuminated hallway. 

He calls your name again and your heart skips a beat. 

“Si?” you whisper, choking on a sob when he steps further into the room. 

He’s got you gathered up in his arms faster than you can think. He’s so warm and it feels so good to have him in your arms again. You wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him – hold him so fiercely that you’re worried you may actually break him. 

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, “It’s alright, everything’s alright.”

“S-Simon…” you can’t help but wail, clawing at the back of his hoodie as if you can feel him any closer than he already was. 

“I’m here,” he sighs, kissing the top of your head, “I’m here. It’s okay. Shit, just let it out. I fucked up, sweetheart, I did. Just breathe and we’ll make everything better, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself apologizing through tears, “I-I don’t hate you, Si. I don’t, I promise. I-I was just mad. I’m sorry I was mean.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he consoles you, cupping the back of your head as you sob, “I’m the one who fucked everything up. It was a fuckin’ mistake.”

You can’t even formulate a response, too choked up with your cries that you let out into the soft cotton of his hoodie. You feel nothing but relief at having him in your arms again, you’re almost scared that he’s going to disappear if you let go. 

But he stays there, shushing you and occasionally kissing the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth on the bed. 

Before long, your cries finally quiet and you’re left curled up against him, quietly sniffling to yourself. His grip on you remains firm, unwilling to let you go. 

After several, long minutes, he finally speaks, “Why don’t you go wash up, hm? Nice, hot, shower. I’ll fix you up some food, sound good?”

You sniffle and blearily look up at him, your lashes sticking together from your dried tears, “I don’t have anything.”

“I’ll make you some ramen cups,” he responds. 

He doesn’t like them being part of your diet but it seems he was willing to overlook it just this once so could get something on your stomach. 

“Don’t have any,” you sound completely congested as you talk, sitting up a little to wipe your cheeks.

“None?” he asks, keeping his hands on your body even as you move off of his lap. 

You shake your head, “I didn’t buy any last time I went shopping.”

“What the hell have you been eating then?” he mumbles, slowly standing up from the bed. 

You wince when you hear his knees and back pop from the movement, “I haven’t had much of an appetite but I’ve got some bread…”

Simon is silent after that, nonsensically looking around the room, seemingly taking stock of what's around him. Then he sighs, running a hand through his cropped hair before patting you on the head.

“I’ll order then,” he assures you, “Go ahead and shower, yeah?”

You do as you’re told, eager to wash the drying tears off of your face and hopefully wash away the lingering sadness. You know that you and Simon have a lot to talk about, but you figure it can wait until you’re both mentally prepared for it. 

You feel more refreshed than you have in days when you step out of the shower. You feel a surge of anxiety in your chest when you think maybe he had left while you were showering but when you pause to really listen, you can hear him shuffling about the flat. 

When you slip into your bedroom, you’re shocked to see that your bed has been completely stripped. He also swept up the broken remnants of the glass and lamp you had thrown at him and picked up the books. He had picked up some scattered pieces of clothes and put them in the laundry basket where they belonged. 

You get yourself dressed and place your dirty clothes in the basket so you don’t undo the work that Simon had done. 

You hear a knock on your door and it makes you jump but Simon quickly answers it. He calls your name to let you know the food has arrived and you quickly make your way to the kitchen. 

He’s methodically separating the food he had ordered into two separate groups, clearly having ordered for himself as well. 

It smells positively delicious and you find your mouth watering as your stomach growls. 

You turn to the fridge, opening it to grab a bottle of water out of it. You notice that the loaf of bread you had in there is gone, most likely thrown out by Simon when he realized it was moldy.

You feel your cheeks burn in shame when you imagine him knowing that you had been eating moldy bread because you couldn’t afford to buy groceries – although, even if you had all the money in the world, you were sure you wouldn’t have felt like going out to get any. You wouldn’t have been able to order since you’d broken your phone. 

You open the styrofoam tray and immediately start devouring the chicken tenders he had ordered for you. It was simple, easy, and tasty. He clearly didn’t want to order you anything too hefty given the fact you’ve been existing on bread. 

He had a burger, taking slow bites of it and occasionally nibbling at his fries. You took the opportunity to look him over. 

He honestly looked the same as ever. He didn’t have dark circles or bags under his eyes like you did. He didn’t have red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes from crying for days. For some reason that made a pang of resentment surge through you. He seemed completely unbothered by everything that had happened. Unbothered, even. 

His words ring out through your head like a bell. 

“We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes again but you bite them back, choosing to take a bite of your french fries. You realize now that you can hear the washing machine going. Clearly, he had put your bedding in there to wash. 

Maybe he was right, you couldn’t survive without him. Couldn’t even wash your own damn laundry. 

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he interrupts your self-deprecating thoughts. 

“Oh, um,” you scramble to think of what to say. Something not depressing or something that could upset him, “I was just wondering what you’ve been up to these few days!”

You try your hardest to sound chipper and interested. You’re positive he doesn’t buy the act in the slightest from the soft, pained look he gives you. But he thankfully plays along. You’re grateful because you don’t want to cry again.

“I was uh,” he cleared his throat and took a sip of water, “I was on base, actually. Nothin’ interesting, really. What, uh, what about you?”

You feel your smile falter and you look down at your food, “Nothing interesting. Tried to get my job back but that was a bust,” you chuckled, playing it off like a goofy anecdote, “Turns out your ex-boss doesn’t like when he gets beat to shit because of you!”

Simon drops his burger into his tray and his nonchalant expression turns sour in half a second, “You tried to go back to work at that shithole? Why the fuck would you do that? You know it’s not good for you!”

All over again, you feel your body flush with anger, and you’re shouting at him before you know it, “What the fuck was I supposed to do, Simon?! You left and I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do without you. I assumed you were gone forever,” you voice pathetically broke but you ignored it, tearfully glaring at him, “All you said was that I was gonna end up killing myself and I was doing everything in my power to prove you wrong.”

“You should have known me better than that!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the countertop, “I never would have left you–”

“That’s exactly what you did!” you shriek, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You left me! You ignored me when I needed you to go get laid and then left like I was nothing to you! Look at you for fuck’s sake, I’m a fucking wreck and you look like you couldn’t have fared better! I almost let that scumbag fuck me just to get my fucking job back, Simon! All because you left me.”

For once in his life, Simon seems utterly lost for words. The only sound in the small kitchen was the steady dripping of your leaky sink and you’re stuttering, sharp breaths as you force yourself to not break down all over again. 

“I should have known you better?” you whisper, resting your hands on the countertop, hanging your head so you can catch your breath, “Apparently I should have. Maybe then I would have known better to depend on you like that.”

Simon stands there, across the counter from you but feeling like he was miles away. You could hear his breathing stutter every few seconds, like he was gearing up to say something but he seemingly changed his mind every time. 

The washing machine jingle rang through the apartment and he immediately stepped away. 

Typical. Simon was never the type to truly let himself be emotionally vulnerable so there was no reason for you to expect it now. 

With him out of the room, you took the chance to wind yourself down, taking a few more bites of your tenders. You could hear Simon moving the laundry to the dryer, slamming it closed before turning it on. 

But he doesn’t reappear, evidently hiding out in the tiny room off the kitchen where your washer and dryer were. He was probably collecting himself just like you. But he appears a second later, lingering out of the corner of your eye. You can see him looking at you but you can’t bear to look back at him.

“I didn’t…” he pauses, taking a breath, “I wasn’t…” he lets out a sound of frustration before he tries again, “I wasn’t okay while I was gone.” 

He doesn’t say anything more. It was evident that that was all he was willing to give up in the moment. But you want more from him, you need more. 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get past this, Simon,” you whisper, “Everything’s so fucked up. I’m fucked up.”

“I am too,” he says softly, drumming his fingers against the counter, “We’ll fix it.”

His assurance marks the end of the conversation and you both resume eating the dinner he had ordered. But it’s silent and neither of you make an attempt to fill it. 

Once the food is eaten, you take a seat on the couch, knees pulled up to your chest as Simon takes your laundry basket from your bedroom and puts the clothes in the washer. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and you wish so desperately that you could crawl into bed and sleep. You suddenly realize that you have no idea what time it is. 

“Simon?” you call out when you catch him passing by. He stops at your calling, raising an inquisitive brow, “What time is it?”

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, unlocking it so he can see, “9:20.”

“Oh…” you respond, tucking your head back into your knees. 

Simon walks away at that and you briefly wonder what he’s doing now. But your eyelids are so heavy and you’re finding it so hard to think clearly. 

You’re pulled from your sleep a soft hand petting over your head. Your eyes slowly drift open and you’re met with Simon’s sweet, brown eyes. 

“Made your bed,” he says so softly, thumbing over your cheek, “Go ahead and get some proper sleep.”

You nod your head and sit up, briefly wondering how you managed to flop over on your side without waking up. Simon takes your hands and helps you to your feet.

You stumble down the hallway and immediately toss yourself onto your bed. You don’t even bother to crawl under the blanket, simply drop your head onto the pillow and let sleep overcome you. 

When you wake up next, it’s from a nightmare. You gasp into consciousness, eyes wide open in the inky blackness of your bedroom. Your heart pounds in your ears and you find yourself panting, trying to stabilize yourself. 

A heavy weight tosses itself over your middle and you almost panic before you smell Simon’s cologne. Immediately, you relax and sink back into the bed. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers, voice thick with sleep, “I’ve got you.”

“I want it to stop,” you find yourself whispering, feeling so utterly exhausted, “The nightmares.”

Simon tugs you over to him, tucking you securely against his chest, his arm like a heavy weight draped across your abdomen, “We’ll get you fixed up.”

As you close your eyes and sink into his embrace, all you can think is that you should have never been broken in the first place. 

You finally sleep through the night but you wake up feeling far from refreshed. What’s most shocking is that you’re still wrapped up in Simon’s arms – and he’s still asleep. The sun is well risen now, he should have been up and about a while ago. He never strays from his schedule.

You find yourself staring at him. It wasn’t often that you got the chance to see him so peaceful. His lashes were so long, brushing his cheeks. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the deep sound of his breathing. Your eyes slowly drift closed again and you let yourself drift off to sleep once more. 

When you wake up next, it’s because Simon is trying to carefully move you off of his chest so he can get up. You whine and find yourself clinging to him again.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mutters, settling back against the headboard. He wraps his arms around you and lets you melt against him again, your head resting against his chest.

“You slept late,” you find yourself commenting.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat and softly rubs your back, “I haven’t had the chance to sleep much. Base is pretty loud.”

You want to mention that it’s never been a problem for him before but you bite it back. Instead, you hum in response. 

As you’re left in the still quietness of the late morning with him, you realize that you still have no idea how you feel about him. You don’t know how you feel about him being back. On one hand, you’ve missed him so, so dearly and you feel so complete with him by your side. You feel safer and more whole, like you could actually start healing again. 

But on the other hand, there feels like there’s a wall separating you two. The fight you two had is a heavy weight that seems to continuously pull you under the water despite how hard you fight to resurface for air. 

You love him, you really do. 

But you’re still so angry at him. 

And it feels like neither of you are going to actually talk about it properly. 

The two of you eventually make it out of bed and get moving around. You still don’t have any groceries but Simon simply orders something for breakfast again.

“Somethin’ I need to ask you,” he says, suddenly terrifyingly serious as the two of you stand in the kitchen eating.

Anxiety flares through you but you try to appear calm and cool, “About?”

“You said that,” he takes a second to collect himself, seemingly searching for the right words, “You almost slept with that guy for your job back.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “Yeah…what about it?” 

Simon paused when he heard the defensiveness in your voice, “You really almost did that?”

You frown, “So what? I can do what I want, Simon.”

He sighs softly, holding his hands up, “I’m not tryin’ to fight, love.”

“I don’t know why it’s your business,” you mumble, using annoyance to hide the shame you feel, “I just needed a job is all.”

He nods, “You don’t need to worry about that, alright. I’ve got you.”

You take a bite of your sandwich, intent on trying to take the attention off of you, “There’s something I wanted to ask you too.”

“Go ahead,” he says softly, sipping on the drink he ordered – some kind of soda if you had to guess.

“That night…” you start, pausing when you notice the way he stiffens immediately. He plays it off by going back to his food, “You, um, you left to hook up with someone, right?”

He places his sandwich down and sighs, “Yeah.”

“...Why?” you finally ask, “I mean…”

You trail off and Simon remains silent. The tension is so thick you could practically see it between the two of you. Your heart hammers in your chest, anxiety steadily festering the longer he’s quiet. You think he isn’t going to respond at all and start to give up, hanging your head. 

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he finally says, “It was a…last minute choice and it shouldn’t have happened.”

He says it but you don’t feel any relief. That concrete weight on your chest isn’t eased in the slightest. It’s an excuse, something he’s saying to get you off his back. And that doesn’t feel good.

“I um…” you clear your throat to get rid of the way it sounds thick, “I’m sorry for that time, by the way. When I was throwing things and I-I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong of me. So, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, “You were upset.”

“Simon…” you mumble, food completely forgotten in front of you, “I want to talk. About everything,” Simon seems annoyed immediately but he tries to hide it. You know him too well for that, though, “I-It was a lot and I think we should talk about it – really talk about it.”

He says your name exasperatedly, turning to open the fridge so he can put his leftover food inside before he slams the door. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”

“But I do,” you say, following him as he storms out of the kitchen, “You said some really mean shit, Si. I want to talk about it!”

He storms into the bedroom, slamming it open as he busies himself with picking up inside. You can tell he’s uncomfortable and simply trying to take his mind off of it. But you’re not going to let him avoid it.

“I don’t,” he snaps, final and harsh.

“I do!” you argue again, “I-I want to know why you said that to me. I want to know how you could–”

“Fuck sake!” he hisses through clenched teeth, ripping his hoodie off of a chair he had tossed it onto. 

He pushes past you, tugging it over his head. You follow him out of the room, watching with wide eyes as he picks up his mask from the coffee table. He tugs it on, painfully silent as he fits it into place. 

“What are you doing?” you finally ask when he gets to the door, slipping his boots on with a grunt, “Where are you going?”

“Out.” he growls, jerking the door open so hard it rattles on its hinges.

“Don’t run from me, Simon!” you cry, grabbing hold of his sleeve to keep him from stepping out, “Are you ever going to tell me you're sorry? Are you ever going to look in my eyes and tell me that you're sorry for what you said to me? For leaving me? Or are you just going to do it again?” 

You can’t fight the tears as you cry out, trying to tug him back into the apartment. But he gives you one final look before he rips his arm from your grasp and slams the door in your face. You’re left alone again, frustrated,  sad and utterly confused. 

You wished he would stop leaving. 

You decide to stay up a little later than you had lately, waiting for him to come home. The oven clock read a little past midnight when you finally called it and crawled into bed. Tugging his pillow to your side, you wrapped yourself around it and tried to imagine that it was him in your arms again. Closing your eyes, you will yourself to fall asleep, no matter how much you want to stay up and wait. 

You’re jostled awake by the weight shifting on the bed. Your eyes flutter open as it creaked under the additional weight. You know it’s Simon, even though your back is to him. He remains silent, clearly trying not to wake you and unaware that he already has. 

The heat radiates off of him in waves, comforting and nice. But despite that, you feel tears welling up until they finally trickle down your cheeks. You can hear Simon’s soft breathing and you can feel him shift every once in a while as he tries to sleep. 

“I can’t do this, Simon,” you find yourself whispering. It’s quiet but you know he hears it, “I want to feel better again. I want to stop being so fucking angry at you but you won’t let me. You just leave me again and I want you to stop. I want…” you suck in a breath and find yourself struggling to continue, simply dissolving into cries. You quiet them as best you can into your pillow.

Simon is painfully silent and still. You’re positive he’s not going to say anything. He’s going to pretend to sleep so he can avoid talking about it because that’s what he does best – avoid. When things get too hard or emotional, he avoids it like the plague. 

You suppose it’s from the way he grew up. A mama’s boy who was punished by his father for showing any kind of emotional vulnerability. It led to him being terrified of it as an adult – he refuses to let himself show that kind of weakness, even to someone who means something to him. And you know that you do – mean something to him, that is. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, just an echo in the darkness of the room. But it draws you to silence, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice thick with emotion, “For what I said to you and for the way I acted that night. I fucked up, I know. It never should have happened. What I said should have never–” he lets out a heavy breath, “I never should have said it.”

You roll over, blinking the tears out of your eyes, which tumble down your cheeks. With a sniffle, you scoot closer to him, his warmth welcome and comforting. He opens his arms for you, letting you situate yourself against him. You rest your head against his shoulder, letting your hand rest against his chest. His own hand comes up to take it in his, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“You mean…” he trails off again but you remain patient, knowing it’s difficult for him to fight through his desire to flee, “You mean a lot to me. I never want to lose you. You’re…important.”

You nuzzle your head against him, a silent acceptance of his apology. He kisses the top of your head and pulls you more firmly against him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again for good measure.

He didn't look you in the eyes and tell you he was sorry but he did the best he could. In the inky blackness of your bedroom, as you shared a bed, and he held you so sweetly, he finally said what you needed to hear. And that's truly all you could ask for.

PART TWO.

do not modify, translate, or repost.

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod x reader

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds (4)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

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

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst

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

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

~~

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

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

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

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

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

The home that wasn’t Velaris. 

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

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

He was everywhere, everything. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And of course he had sent Azriel of all people. 

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

“Why is half of your vanity gone?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Azriel—” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Is something the matter?” you tried. 

Azriel’s hand twitched. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I was going to—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With your mate.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My oblivious girl. Please.” 

“Azriel—” 

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

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

Mate. Azriel was your mate. 

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

“You’re my—Azriel, you—” 

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

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

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

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

“You love Elain.” 

“I do not love Elain.” 

“And Mor?” 

“I do not love Mor, either.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long have you…” 

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

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

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

“I didn’t want to lose you.” 

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

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

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

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

When you didn’t answer, he kept talking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,” he said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[scoutswritingcorner]

Carelessly Curious

Cursed Cat Alastor Fic

Ft. Alastor x GN! Reader

A/N: More cursed cat Alastor cause it’s 2:38am and I’m having to stay up all night.

TW: Blood, talks of eating a body (mostly Cursed Cat Alastor), Alastor x GN!Reader shenanigans.

The few times your little cat friend was around and the one time Alastor got jealous.

You noticed a trend with the weird cat thing that looked like Alastor, everywhere you went the cat was not far behind. The only exception was if Alastor was actually near you, the cat would be behind a corner or a door watching every move. You would find it creepy but..it does the exact same thing Alastor does. It just stands and stares like Alastor when he doesn’t have anything particular to say or he’s trying to gauge how the room is.

Satan forbid if Lucifer got too close to you, the cat would literally start to vibrate as static and eerie growls left its mouth. It even tried to bite the King. You kept apologizing to him, having to rightfully shoo the cat away so you could have a conversation with Lucifer. Only for the cat to come back with a vengeance of 30 angry men.

Your favorite thing about the cat is how it just tends to take up the space in your lap if you're not busy- or whenever you're extremely busy with helping the front desk answer calls. It’s favorite thing (or you thought) was when it brought you body parts from the people it killed. It always sucked having to get blood out of your clothes, but Alastor was always helpful with that situation. The cat always dropped it in your lap staring at you but then realized you didn’t eat demon flesh and in turn devoured the limb easily bone and all.

~~

The next few hours of your day had passed by slowly as you did your routine around the hotel, soft tip taps of paws following after you as a soft hum of radio static. Then the soft taps stopped as Alastor appeared next to you, pulling you into a slow dance by carefully spinning you around until you leaned into his arms, soft jazz playing from his microphone. You immediately smiled, leaning your head against his chest as he hummed along to the music. “No broadcast today?” You asked after a while leaning back as the soft tune turned into something more upbeat, practically beating him to his own game. 

He chuckled, easily guiding you along into the dance, “Not today~” He whispered out and you finally realized that his usual attire had changed. The once red button up shirt was changed into a white one and his jacket was nowhere to be found, black slacks adorned his new outfit. You rarely saw him change into something other than his own red suit, you didn’t bring too much attention to it. A comfortable silence lulled between the both of you as the dance ended with him easily dipping you, leaving a gentle kiss upon your lips. The rest of the day was spent dancing away with him between fast paced dances that almost made you trip over your own feet to keep up with him to slow dances that made you sleepy.

~~

You don’t remember when you fell asleep or how you woke up in your own bed, soft jazz playing from your radio. You tried to sit up but realized there was a weight on your chest and then a soft paw gently hit your head in retaliation to your movement. The cat (you still didn’t know if it was a cat) was laying on your chest purring loudly, radio static getting louder. “Sorry, sorry.” You whispered out laying back down and the static dissipated easily, the cat got resituated on your chest and slowly blinked it’s eyes towards you before looking away staring at a random wall as if it was protecting you.

You stared up at the ceiling for a while before the cat moved from your chest to the pillow next to you. Allowing you to slowly sit up stretching your back out and then your eyes landed on Alastor sitting in the armchair in your room, softly snoring as he leaned against his own hand. Slowly getting up, you walked over draping a blanket over his shoulders and taking the book from his lap making sure to mark his place for him when he woke back up.

~~

The next time you saw the cat watching you was when you were bathing. Minding your own business as you relaxed after a stressful day only to see a bright red ball of fluff glaring at the tub, back arched as it let out a loud hissing noise. You chuckled and shook your head, “It’s fine..just taking a bath.” You told the cat but it only sent you a glance and hissed once more the red fur on it puffing up almost comically. Now that made you laugh loudly, tears forming in your eyes as you looked away. 

Calming down from your laughing fit you reached a wet hand out towards the corner where the cat stood. The cat batted at your hand, hissing louder but it never actually hit you. “Oh so grumpy..you remind me of someone~” You cooed out, leaning back and smiling, glancing at the cat who now moved forward towards the tub. “Oh? Becoming adventurous?” 

The cat grumbled as loud static echoed through the room and it stood up on its hind legs to peer into the tub, watching the water. The next few seconds felt like a horror movie. Shadows wrapped around the poor little cat's frame and dropped it into the tub of warm water causing it to freak out and climb out of the tub. Then Alastor appeared, holding fresh clothes for you. A smirk played on his lips, “Careful..you're getting careless~” He growled towards the smaller cat who growled in return. You rolled your eyes, getting up and wrapping a towel around your frame and exiting the tub. “You’re so mean to my little protector.” You pouted towards Alastor who gently grabbed your cheek and squeezed it.

“Well you’re little protector is getting too chummy with you, Darling. I have to show him who your beloved is~”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x gn!reader #gn reader #cursed cat alastor