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0oolookitsme · 4 months

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But Baby, It's Cold Outside

Type - One-Shoty Blurb!

Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count - 1.2k

Warnings - None, just some tooth rotting fluff ;)

A/N - Y/n blushes so hard in this one I was legit smiling while writing the ending lmao. Hope you guys like it just as much! <3

MASTERLIST | Please rb to share!

Y/n was on her knees on the carpeted floor, her hands stacking things up on the Christmas mantel that she had been set on decorating since she'd opened her eyes this morning. Her knees hurt because of the hardwood floor, but it was better than having to bend down while standing up, nevertheless.

They were surprisingly late to decorate for Christmas this year because of their prolonged stay over at Anne's for a while. After all, Anne wanted the see her daughter-in-law who was pregnant with her grandson or granddaughter -- and Y/n was starting to feel more and more deprived of a mother's love by each day, making Harry take her to Anne.

She had put Harry to work currently with fluffing up the Christmas tree's leaves, and to decorate it with the string lights they'd bought just the day before. He was crouching just about beside her, facing her with the tall tree standing between them.

"I swear, this tree has got me working the hardest I ever have," Harry joked, wiping the sheen layer of sweat on his face. He chuckled when Y/n shook her head, laughing at him and not at his joke -- but he didn't need to know that. "So dramatic," he heard her murmur under her breath, knowing that she meant for him to hear it.

"I'm the one who's dramatic?" He questioned her with a touch of accusation to it. "You're the one who's been up my arse this whole month with 'let's do this, let's do that'!" Mimicking her, Harry smacked his hand on the tree and hissed in pain when a thorn pricked his finger.

A smirk appeared on Y/n's face as she continued to mess with the order of stuff she'd stacked up on the mantel. Shrugging, she said, "that's what you get for teasing me."

Herry scoffed instead of saying anything and went back to fluffing up the tallest bit of the tree. His armpits were moist with his sweat but he wouldn't even dare to think about putting out the crackling-fire in the fireplace. He might be a naturally warm body, but Y/n definitely wasn't.

Whether it was summer, or winter -- her body was never found to be hot. Hell, even when she took off her fuzzy socks last night her feet were freezing cold. And, with the baby growing in her body, Harry wouldn't even let Y/n remove the thin blanket he had wrapped around her frame when he woke up at the first ray of sunshine and realized that it had started snowing.

"H? Will you please bring me those mini-Christmas trees?" Y/n asked him, turning to give him some puppy-eyes but caught him watching the snowflakes on the windowpane instead. Tilting her head and joining him in looking outside, her lips stretched in a smile.

The snow fell soundlessly, drifting down like white and fluffy cold crystals. It brought an essence of magic in the world, falling softly into blankets that cover the landscape.

"...'course," she heard him mumble, and turned just in time to catch the smile he passed her with a glint in his eyes that she'd come to recognize as admiration. Though she wasn't sure if what he was admiring then was the snow, her, or the 7-month baby bump.

In the time that Harry went to pick up the set of trees from the kitchen island, Y/n dropped the blanket from her shoulders, feeling too hot suddenly. The room had grown too warm for her current liking, and as she sat down cross-legged on the floor to give her knees some rest, she wished for Harry to be back by her side.

She slipped back on her bottom until her aching back hit the leg of the sofa and rested there. Patting the spot next to her, she invited Harry to sit beside her and whined internally when he passed her a knowing look and brought back the blanket with him. "Open the window if you're going to make me wear that blanket again," she told him pointedly, passing him a smile to tell him she didn't mean that behaviour seriously.

"But baby," Harry looked at her with a desperate look on his face. "It's cold outside!" he told her, wanting to open the window himself but he simply denied to because he couldn't have Y/n catch a cold. He sat down, spreading his legs and crossing them at the ankles.

He draped the blanket over both of their legs, making sure her bump is also covered. Leaning in, he pressed his lips on her pouted ones, smiling in the midst when she wouldn't back away.

Y/n reached for one of the kid's books that she'd been reading to learn some stories she could tell her little bundle of love when they were old enough to whine to her for just one more story. With some trouble, she caught the book on the sofa behind her and opened it, keeping it tilted just in case Harry wanted to join her.

But Harry was rather busy idly playing with her free hand, and as she continued to read, she felt him raise her hand up and press a kiss into her palm. Her cheeks, that were already rosy because of the cold, had now turned a shade of raging red and Harry couldn't help but cackle at that.

Y/n slapped his arm, an embarrassed smile dressed on her lips. "Stop it," she hissed, unable from removing the bashful smile on her mouth when Harry kisses the back of her hand the other time around. She turned her face away so that he couldn't see the cherry-red tint on her face, her mouth trembling because of the shy-giggle she was working hard to keep in.

Harry loved seeing the smallest gestures affect her in ways that she couldn't even control. Sputters of laughter kept falling from his mouth and when she didn't turn to face him after some while, he couldn't help but grab her chin and make her look at him.

Although she had shut her eyes tightly, the apple of her cheeks still suffused with a shade of pink that he decided was his favourite from now on. "C'mon!" He laughed when she wouldn't open her eyes.

He had only started getting such exquisite reactions out of her since he put a baby in her, and God, he would put another one in there if she would keep making him lose his mind like this.

Suddenly, a yelp flew out of his mouth, and he flinched away when she pressed her icy foot flat on his calf.

"Oh my god," he laughed with a surprised expression on his feet. "Baby, how the fuck are you so cold, still?" He shouted with laughter, his heart bursting with love when she started laughing profusely with her head thrown back. He, somewhere in the midst of it all, had stopped laughing, gazing at her instead.

But when Y/n didn't hear him laughing along with her, she opened her eyes only to find him looking at her as if she'd had hung stars in the room for him; and Harry swore her eyes were genuinely glittering and shimmering with something he was sure the poets would call love.

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milf-murdock · 8 months

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Last Kiss (Part 2)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x 141!Reader

Summary: Simon believes his S/O went down in a plane crash in a mission gone wrong, only to find out upon return that she made it. The relief causes Ghost to finally confront his feelings about you and how much you mean to him. Unbelievable back-from-the-dead smut ensues, along with some tooth-rotting fluff. Warnings: some angst, implied reader death (but she’s fine!!!), happy ending I promise :,) Some minor description of injuries (bruises, cut lip), smuuuuuuut, filthy filthy smut, praise, pet names (sweet girl, good girl, darling, sweetheart), P in V, unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, umm I think that’s it… A/N: Well part two is finally here and definitely among some of the filthiest I’ve ever written. Goddamn the brain rot goes deep for this man… Your comments and reblogs are so appreciated <3 I hope you enjoy!

You finally made it through the debriefing and back into the security of your quarters. Your favorite part about coming back from a mission, especially one that went as tits up as this one, was the steaming hot shower that came after. You stayed under that spray for longer than necessary, the hot water soothing your aching joints.

On the whole, you had come out of things pretty unscathed. Several bruises, a few cuts, a minor split lip from where you hit the dashboard. Even you were impressed with your ability to crash land in such dire circumstances. With a deep sigh, you let the hot water race over you, absentmindedly watching the dirt, blood, and grime swirl down the drain.

Simon was pacing outside your door. His thoughts had been going 100 miles an hour since you got back from your mission.

The grief of thinking he lost you. The pain he felt in that moment was insurmountable.

Then that moment of seeing you. Alive. Those words flashed over and over in his mind.

She’s alive. She’s alive.

The relief was like a shock to his system.

And now in the aftermath of it, Simon felt like he had emotional whiplash. With all of the extreme highs and lows of the day, Simon still could not get the needling feeling in his heart to settle down. Something broke in Simon when he heard your voice say your plane was going down. And now that you survived, now that fate had brought you back to him, him, of all people, he just couldn’t let you go. He couldn’t go back to the way things were before. Things were different. He was different.

With a deep breath, Simon braced himself, and finally knocked on your door.

No response.

With a frown, Simon tried again. He knew the debrief was over, so where the hell were you? Still no answer. Finally, Simon gave up and tried the door, pleasantly surprised to find it open. Fortunate for him in this case, but he made a mental note to talk to you about keeping your door locked for safety purposes–anybody could have come in. Simon smiled to himself as he caught himself being a bit overprotective.

That’s when he noticed the gentle hum of the shower in the background. Ah, he thought to himself. That explains it. He took a seat at the edge of your bed, steeling himself for the upcoming conversation.

With a final moment of appreciation for the hot water, you turned the dial and shut off the shower, drying off before securing a towel around your body, tucking it in. Humming to yourself, you made quick work of your wet hair, running a brush through it for a quick detangling. The exhaustion was settling deep in your bones now, and you found yourself dreaming of the moment you could collapse into bed. With a sigh, you opened the bathroom door, and immediately let out a scream.

“Fucking hell Simon!” you clutched at your chest as if to calm your racing heart. “You scared the ever living shit out of me!”

Simon was immediately up on his feet and across the room.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Simon held his hands up as if to assure you he meant no harm. It wasn’t as if this was the first time you two had sought out each other’s company like this after a mission. In fact, it was practically standard at this point, borderline sacred. You just weren’t expecting to open your door and see this hulk of a man sitting there with his skull mask.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Simon continued, closing the distance between you two, his hand tentatively reaching out to you.

You let out a small laugh. “I’m…fine,” you chuckle. “You just scared me.”

Simon looked unsure, thrown off now that he had scared you so badly.

Sensing his unease, you take his hand in yours and place it over your heart. “Here, feel.”

“Damn,” Simon muttered, feeling the rapid rhythm beneath his fingertips. “I’m sorry.”

You were about to brush it off and remind him you were fine, when you caught sight of the look in his eyes.

Simon pressed his hand against your chest a little harder, a sadness taking over his expression. Suddenly it wasn’t just a joke about feeling your high heart rate. He was soaking it in, realizing what every beat of your heart meant.

You are alive. You are here.

He focused on that heartbeat, each pulse a neon reminder.

You’re alive.

You covered Simon’s hand with your own, your hand almost laughably small in comparison. You knew what thoughts that must be running through his head; they were the same thoughts you often had when Simon returned from yet another dangerous mission.

“Hey,” your gentle voice pulled his gaze from your heart back to your face.

“I’m okay, Simon,” you assuaged, pressing his hand into your chest.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, more to himself than anyone else.

“Fuck,” he said, so quietly you almost missed it. “I thought I lost you, today.” Simon paused, swallowing hard. “I really thought I fucking lost you.”

This time it was you who closed the distance between you, pressing your face into Simon’s firm chest. His strong arms wrapped you, pulling you closer. He held you tight, pressing his masked face to the top of your head. He drank it all in: the feeling of you in his arms, the scent of your shampoo filling his nostrils, the feeling of your heartbeat.

And in the aftermath of his grief and the rush of emotions enveloping him after, three words fell from his lips:

“I love you.”

So quiet, you thought at first you imagined them.

You lifted your head up, looking into those light brown eyes. One hand drifted up his chest, coming to rest at the base of the balaclava. You paused.

With a small nod from Simon, you had all the approval you needed to gently lift the mask, slowly revealing that strong jawline you loved so much. Those deceptively soft lips. The gentle curve of his nose, the faint outline of a scar shimmering in the bedroom light. The messy locks of blonde that you loved to run your fingers through. Your simon.

“Tell me again,” you whispered. “As Simon.”

Not once breaking eye contact, Simon took your face in his hands.

“I love you.”

And with that declaration out in the open, he pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was a tender, sweet thing. You found yourself tangling one of your hands in his, and gently guiding him back to your bed. You made sure your towel was secured before taking a seat on the bed, motioning for Simon to join you.

As you felt his body weight shift the mattress next to you, you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for this next part. It wasn’t easy to relive it so soon.

“When I–” you cut yourself off, immediately feeling choked up.

You took another breath. You could feel Simon’s eyes on you, but focused your attention on a stray string coming unraveled at the edge of your towel. That string suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world to you as you stumbled through your confession.

“When I realized that I was going down,” you started, fingers teasing more of the string loose. “I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to make the landing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve navigated my fair share of crash landings, but this was…different.”

You swallowed.

“As I was trying to maintain control as best I could and brace for impact, there was only one face that flashed in my mind. Yours.”

“Your face. Your kiss. Everything we’ve shared, and everything I want to share with you. I saw you. And I knew that my only regret in all of this was that we didn’t have more time together.”

“And when I realized that I made it. And that I’d get to come back to you,” your voice broke, but you pushed through. “I knew I needed to tell you.” You finally brought your eyes up to him.

“I love you, Simon.”

For the second time that night, you felt Simon’s lips against yours. But where the first kiss was soft and sweet, this was a bright, burning, passionate thing. It took you by surprise, but as soon as you felt Simon’s tongue slide against your lips, requesting permission, you were done. Your mouth parted and the kiss deepened, both your tongues fighting for dominance. It was a frenzy now. You sat up on your knees, taking Simon’s face in your hands. He was kissing you like your life depended on it, and for a moment you wondered if maybe it did.

You sat yourself across Simon’s lap, straddling him, and reached down to undo your towel. Simon’s hands reached for your own, following your guide as he undid the twist that held it in place.

Simon pulled back from the kiss as your towel fell away and his eyes explored your body, a ravenous look settling into his features. “Fucking hell you’re beautiful, love,” Simon muttered, causing a flush to rise up and color your cheeks.

And then his lips were on your body, spreading kisses and leaving a trail of wildfire behind. Your neck, your collarbone, down to your breasts, working the supple flesh until he took one nipple in his mouth, giving it a firm suck. Your back arched, further pressing your chest into him, and his hands found their way to your hips, holding you in place with his firm grasp.

With a small pop, Simon released your nipple, kissing his way across your chest to the other one. Your fingers wound through his hair as he continued his attention to your delicate breast. A deep moan escaped your lips as your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation.

Simon’s mouth on you was heaven, but you needed more. And Simon needed it too. You could feel his hardness beneath you, growing with every kiss and suckle. Your need bubbling up inside you, you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding up against him. Simon let out a groan as you made contact with his erection over the harsh fabric of his pants. His arousal was evident, and his moans only made you want him more.

He finally released your breast, and the cold air hitting your sensitive peaks sent a shiver through you. Simon’s warm hands roamed your body, his touch spreading an electric shock across your body. He couldn’t get enough. It was as if he was proving to himself that you were here. You were safe. You were right in front of him. And he was determined to feel every inch of you.

His hand slid down your stomach and across the upper part of your thigh, and you felt your cunt clench at the sensation, a needy whimper escaping you. You’d have been more embarrassed if you didn’t feel so fucking electrified by his touch.

Simon’s fingers grazed higher on your thigh until finally meeting your sensitive flesh.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned as his fingers met your warmth. “You’re so fucking wet for me already, darling.”

Your quick retort died on your tongue as his fingers entered you, every coherent thought eddying out of your head. With expert precision, Simon curled his fingers, finding that perfect spot right inside you that had you seeing fucking stars.

Simon was drunk on your pants and your moans as he continued to fuck you with his fingers.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “That’s right–ride my fingers, sweetheart. Just like that.”

Simon brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles over the swollen bundle. You felt your orgasm continue to build as he continued to his that spot, over and over. After the adrenaline of the day, you knew you weren’t going to last long. It only took a few short minutes before your body was shaking on Simon’s lap.

“That’s right darling, let it go,” he encouraged, his deep voice low in your ear. “I’ve got you. Let it go. Come for me.” And with that, you fell apart in his arms. Your orgasm came over you in crashing waves, your body twitching as your cunt clenched his fingers, his name echoing out of you in a scream.

“Fuck yes, good girl,” Simon groaned. “Ride it out. I’ve got you.” He continued to ease his fingers in and out, slowly and tenderly prolonging your orgasm. Right at the cusp of oversensitivity, your body continued shaking in response. Carefully, he slid his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his mouth for a taste.

“Fucking delicious,” the audible sound of him sucking your juices off his fingers was almost enough to send you into another orgasm.

Simon’s strong hands found their way under your ass, grabbing the back of your thighs to lift you up and set you on the bed. Your legs still hadn’t stopped shaking from your orgasm and you were thankful for the assist.

Finally, you found your words. “You know, it’s really not fair that I’ve already come, and you’re still fully clothed,” you manage to gasp out, your voice unbearably shaky though you don’t miss the look of pure fucking satisfaction on Simon’s face knowing he brought you to this point.

Simon gave a light chuckle, amused by your glare at the offending items on his body. “Alright my impatient girl,” he joked, before making quick work of his shirt, revealing his lean muscled torso. You licked your lips, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. Simon made quick work of his belt, removing it with one hand, and then letting the rest fall to the floor before crawling back on the bed towards you.

His muscled arms encased your face as he held his body above yours, eyes staring into your own. There were no words–there didn’t need to be. You had said them all. There was nothing but the love you felt for one another and the solace of being together, of being safe and together.

Simon lined himself up at your dripping wet entrance, waiting for a nod from you to continue. Typical Simon, you thought to yourself. Always asking for permission for what’s already his. Nevertheless, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips before giving him a nod.

And then Simon was thrusting home.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Relax darling,” he coaxed, “Let it stretch. You can take it.” He dropped his forehead to yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he struggled for control. You could feel yourself stretch around him, adjusting to his size. It didn’t matter how many times you did this. The first thrust was always the hardest. After a few moments, the need became overwhelming and you found yourself wiggling your hips beneath him, urging him to move.

“That’s a sweet girl,” he breathed out, gently pulling out and thrusting back in. He pushed himself up on his forearms, giving himself a better angle as he thrust in again. “Oh look at you taking me so fucking well.” Your back arched off the bed as you met him thrust for thrust. One of his hands reached out to grab the headboard, his well-defined muscles rippling as he pounded into you. His pace was picking up, as if he simply couldn’t hold back anymore.

You were here. You were his. And he was going to savor it.

The sounds of your skin slapping echoed in the room as his strong hips thrust against you, his balls slapping your ass. You could feel the beginning of your second orgasm building up inside you as you cried out Simon’s name and your hand slid between your bodies to circle your clit.

Your name fell from his lips–a pleading, a prayer, a promise. His hips thrust deeper inside you, making sure you took every last inch of his thick cock. He could feel you tightening around him, choking his member, and the sound of his name on your lips sent a rush of primal lust through him.

“Simon,” you panted, gasping for air. “I’m so close. I’m so fucking–” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, the words dying in your throat as Simon tilted his hips, hitting that spot inside you that made you see fucking stars.

“Fuck yes, darling. Come for me,” his moans grew increasingly more desperate. “I need to come,” he grunted. “I need to come with you.”

With a final scream, your orgasm crashed through you, sending every fucking nerve ending in your body aflame. Your cries were drowned out by Simon’s grunts as his hips thrusted harder and faster within you. You clenched around him as your orgasm ripped through you, milking his own orgasm from him. “Fuck,” he roared as his cock plunged into you a final time, flooding you with his warm seed. “Fuck that’s it, sweet girl. Fucking hell, that’s it.” His hips gave a final jerk before finally coming to a stop.

Simon dropped his forehead to yours, both of your ragged gasps for air intermingling. With a gentle shift of his hips, he slid out from you, coming up to rest on your side and pulling you close to his chest.

“That was fucking amazing,” you muttered, still too cockdrunk and tingly from the high of your orgasm. “Hey, if this is where it gets me, maybe I should crash my plane more often,” you teased, nuzzling in closer to his firm chest.

Simon tensed beneath you and instinctively pulled you tighter, one hand tangling itself in your hair to hold you as close to him as possible. “Don’t you even fucking joke about that,” his voice was barely below a whisper.

You were too far gone to even apologize; the events of the day, your two mind blowing orgasms, and Simon’s warm embrace all crashed down on you at once, making it impossible to keep your eyelids open. Sensing that you were fading fast, Simon pressed a kiss to your temple. “Sleep,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

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#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #task force 141 #simon “ghost” Riley #simon “ghost” Riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader

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midnight-moth · 6 months

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Ok, so i don’t know who read what but for any of this to make sense, one of Phantom’s horns is broken. I guess that’s the most important part. The other important part is that Mountain in my mind has antler type horns and he sheds them.

So …

Kintsugi

CW past abuse mentioned, hurt/comfort

Phantom feels very self conscious about the broken horn. It’s like wearing a permanent bruise on his cheek, or a split lip. And he already has scars that will never heal. But this is different. Because it hurts a little. Sometimes it hurts a lot.

Like a tooth it’s connected to nerves and they’re just shy of being exposed. It’s irritated by the cold, by touch, or if he has a headache. In fact he believes he gets headaches because of it.

He’s tried all kinds of things but nothing really works. Nothing fills in the gaps quite right. Everything he’s tried is literally just a bandaid. Because he realizes that it’s not actually physical. And there’s nothing he can do.

The others can see him wincing when he pulls his helmet off. Even glamoured away it becomes a constant source of pain. He prods it with his fingers and his jaw clenches tight and he wishes he could just numb the pain all of the time. But that would take more energy and focus than he has. And no amount of quintessence is going to make the tissue grow back.

Mountain has an idea. What if some of the pain is like - for lack of a better term - a phantom limb. What about a prosthesis?

The pattern of the break isn’t too complicated. He thinks he could make an approximation of a match. But how to actually adhere it to the surface, he isn’t sure.

He looks over to the collection of bric-a-brac he’s collected on tour and his eyes land on a piece of pottery.

Kintsugi - a black earthen bowl threaded with gold. Resin and metal, fragmented pieces not only whole again, but stronger. And beautiful.

The bone white of his antler certainly wouldn’t match the onyx of Phantom’s horn, but they would compliment each other surely.

Mountain decided to consult some of the others, he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping, or being presumptuous. Phantom had always been clear that he didn’t need anyone to fix his eyes. That they weren’t broken. But he could still see - in his own way, and it didn’t hurt.

This was different. They all agreed. But their consensus was irrelevant if it wasn’t what Phantom wanted. Mountain decided that it would be more persuasive if he actually had something to show him. So he set to work carving. He shattered a few using the wrong tools, some were too big, some too small. He was grateful that some sentimental part of him always kept the ones that fell.

He felt like he finally got it right. Or as right as he could without creating some kind of mold. That would spoil the element of surprise. Which somewhere along the line became a part of it.

Late that evening, when Phantom had curled up with his head on Swiss’s lap and his feet tucked under Dew’s knees, he crept into the room like a thief. Which was silly because Phantom was the only one who was asleep. Others were carrying on conversations, the tv was on, light flooding the space from the various lamps scattered across the room.

The pack was all very aware of his preoccupation with this. And they’d already held up the other prototypes to Phantom’s unconscious form to see if they would fit. Tonight was no different, Swiss took the carved half of a horn and held it as close as he dared.

It looked right. It looked level. It had the same curve and bevel as the others. Something so tightly wound in Mountain’s chest begun to unravel. He hadn’t realized how involved he’s become. A single mindedness that had been consuming most of not all of his waking thoughts over the last few weeks.

He’d already purchased some ready made epoxy after learning that the natural resins came from poison ivy. After wandering in late one day covered in a rash, he consulted the internet for an alternative, feeling a little bit betrayed by his own greenhouse.

He still needed gold. A fact he lamented over at breakfast. Lunch. Afternoon tea. Later that evening, he received several visitors. They each came with an offering.

A broken chain that Cumulus didn’t wear anymore, Swiss with a single cuff link whose partner was missing, Aether took one of the small gold hoops threaded through his ear right out and placed it in Mountain’s large palm. He’s collected pieces from almost everyone.

Dew had something else to offer him. Fire. The kind of heat that Mountain couldn’t conjure in the Abbey’s hearth.

He sat patiently that night with a pool of gold and black in his palm while Mountain filled in the small fissures and cracks in the antler. Maybe it wasn’t necessary, but he wanted it to be strong. And it when it was finished, it did look beautiful.

The final task was convincing, or rather offering it to Phantom. Which was perhaps the most difficult. Mountain had put so much time, work, and care into this. At least if Phantom said no it would make a cool pendant for a necklace.

Mountain decided not to waste much time the next day, to ease the burden of anxiety he carried knowing Phantom might reject his offer, or be outright offended by it.

He found him curled in a spot of sun on the couch, digesting his breakfast and playing a game boy color which may as well have still been the height of technology for him.

The bit of antler and gold felt hot in his palm as he kept it in his fist behind his back.

“Hey Mounty, whatcha doing?”

Well, he was standing there awkwardly, staring. “Well, I have something for you. But only if you want it of course. It was just a thought. There’s no pressure. In fact you might think it’s stupid. Maybe it is stupid….”

“Woah, woah, stop trying to talk me out of it. I don’t even know what it is yet!” Phantom paused the electronic warbling coming from the device and put it on the coffee table.

“So, what is it?”

Mountain watched his tail dancing behind his back, like a kit about to open a birthday present.

“Please, just stop me if this upsets you.”

“Okay, I don’t know what you’re gonna give me that will upset me, is it more chores?”

“No bug, I made something for you. For your horn.”

“What do you mean?” Phantom’s fingers automatically reached for the broken appendage, running his fingers along the severed edge.

“I made a - a - well, here.” Mountain dropped the object into Phantom’s outstretched hand.

“Oh.” Phantom rolled the object around in his hands. It was smooth, it looked like Mountain’s antler, but the surface had been polished, lacquered. The fine crevices had been filled with gold epoxy, like little veins of sunlight.

“You hate it. I shouldn’t have assumed. I know - you’re not broken, you don’t need fix-“

“I love it.”

Oh no, his eyes were glazed over with a pool of tears. If he cries I’ll cry, Mountain thought. But too late. Two big fat tears dripped on his hand.

“I just thought maybe it would help. With the -“

“Pain.”

“Yeah.”

Mountain went on to tell him that everyone contributed something. Whether it was the gold in the piece or the flames that forged it together.

And if he was willing, he and Dew could attach it. But he had to be sure. Getting it off would surely be painful.

Phantom practically launched himself into Mountain’s lap.

“I want it. Can we do it now?”

“Yes, bug. Dew’s waiting.”

His ears must’ve been burning, Dew rounding the corner with a small brush and a pocket full of metal.

Phantom watched in fascination as the hunk of gold turned to a smoldering puddle in his hand. Mountain fished his glasses out of his front pocket and took the brush from Dew.

“I’ll have to work fast. It’ll set quickly. So, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Mountain doused the brush in the epoxy whilst whispering a small prayer to Lucifer himself that it wouldn’t actually hurt when he touched Phantom’s horn. He’s stared at it while the ghoul was sleeping enough to know that there was no way the nerve was actually exposed. And that the pain may very well be emotional in nature.

He dabbed a thick glob of resin right in the center and waited for Phantom to scream. But he felt nothing at all.

Mountain worked faster now, painting the surface of the prosthesis and his horn before setting the newly carved piece on top.

He watched some of the epoxy spill out between the cracks, creating a glittering gold vein along the fused edges. He held his breath, waiting for too much to spill out and drip down the side, but it stayed in place. All those practice runs helped, and he was grateful for the abbey’s sacrifice of a few dinner plates.

“Well, it’ll take a few hours to harden completely. So I wouldn’t go head butting anyone. But it’s done.”

“Can I look?”

“Of course you can, bug.” Mountain dropped the brush into Dew’s outstretched palm as he rolled the cooling metal around in his hand like play dough.

He didn’t follow, even though they’d all helped, this was really Mountain’s labour of love.

Mountain followed to the ornate mirror in the hallway leading to the dorms. He couldn’t bare to look even though he’d already seen it. Because Phantom hadn’t, and he couldn’t bear it if Phantom didn’t like it.

Phantom was inspecting it close enough that Mountain wasn’t sure if he could see it at all. And then he remembered that of course Phantom would see it in his own way.

And he did, all of the donated objects carried little bits and pieces of their magic. And of course the antler was saturated with it. It was a part of Mountain at some point.

So to Mountain it looked like black and white, fused by gold. To Phantom, it looked like lichen greens and aqueous blues, copper ore and violet flower petals. It looked like his pack, how he saw them.

“I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

“You don’t have to. If you’re happy with it that’s all I need.”

“You know, I really thought I was broken. Beyond repair. But all of you, you fixed me. Filled up all my cracks and weak spots and now I’m whole again. But more than that, I’m better than I was. Stronger.”

Mountain couldn’t find the words to reply. Just strong arms and a hug that threatened to crack Phantom’s ribs, and if Phantom hadn’t been mended as he was by his pack, maybe he would’ve.

#this idea has been floating around in my brain since June #I guess when I first wrote about him #I know this is so very sappy #I do not care #mountain ghoul #phantom ghoul #Aeon ghoul #nameless ghouls #midnight moth writes

315 notes · View notes

raribella · 1 year

Text

Braid Beads. | N.S

summary: Neteyam helps you undo your braids.

pairing: Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan x Omaticaya!reader

genre: tooth-rotting fluff.

involves: established relationship, nothing suggestive, ONE mention of nudity and envisioning mating, the reader cannot deal with her own hair to save her life.

word count: 1,2k

notes: Inspired by my lack of coordination when taking off my own braids last week, I got so frustrated and it took so long that the only thing that kept me going was picturing a scene that based this whole blurb. I really hope you liked it, I wrote it pretty fast, and apparently, I and the English language are on good terms today. notes comments and reblogs are really appreciated. Requests are open.

It was almost eclipse when Neteyam started looking for you. When he arrived home from training with Jake, he had expected to find you and just enjoy your comforting company for the rest of the day, but when his mother told him you had left to bathe a while ago at the river, a glimpse of worry formed in the back of his mind as he started to look for you. It was not dark yet when he arrived at the shore, hearing your faint grunts that seemed both pained and annoyed. Alarmed, Neteyam ducked his head forward so the tree that was blocking his vision could get out of the way, and he nearly chuckles in relief at the vision he was met with.

You were sitting cross-legged on the lakeside, loincloth and breast beads still on as your head was hanging down, your hands fidgeting in between your hair and a wooden comb, making a variety of frowns as you got annoyed with your braids, grunting whenever you got your hair pulled. Neteyam honestly felt like he could peer at that for hours, in awe of your antics and having fun at the same time. He actually only stopped when you turned your head slightly up, buffing exasperated — which made you able to get a glimpse of his face hidden behind a tree, a simple smile plastered on it. — "skxawng! for how long have you been there?!" your posture fell completely, giving up.

Neteyam chuckled again, all his problems seemed to have gone like dust in a gush of wind, "long enough! do you want any help?", to that, you only managed to huff again, mouth opening in a proud "argh!" as you looked to your side in shame, running away from his gaze. At that and the subtle purple forming in your cheeks, Neteyam couldn't help but let his own mouth form yet another simple smile as he knew what it meant. You did need help with taking off your braids — and you hated that he caught on to it so easily. —

Neteyam walked over, his own braids dancing side to side as he moved. He took a seat right behind you, his legs dangling to the side of your own, making you comfortably hugged by them as he gently grabbed the tip of one of your braids, a few of your curls shifting with his touch. He clicked his tongue, noticing they were too dry to try and undo them like this, and that your efforts turned out to form little knots along your hair. The contact of his hands on your scalp made you at ease, but your relaxed complexion went away as he exclaimed light-heartedly "you're like a baby!"

You pouted, eyebrows knitting together and face turning abruptly in his direction, your hair working like a whiplash directly on his face, which made the na'vi purse his lips together in a tight line. "come on," he rushed you calmly, hands getting on your back so you could move, the heat contrasting with the cold atmosphere of the river, "you know you are! get in so we can get your hair wet, I'll take them off for you." His caring energy made you obey within seconds, the purple hue appearing on your cheeks again as you blushed. You didn't like to think you were being a nuisance with his already hustling routine, but to have someone look out for you in a way that wasn't parenting sent a warm feeling to your chest, it was soothing, loving, and new, and you liked it.

Removing both loincloths and whatever else you needed, Neteyam guided you with his right hand on your lower back as the other found your shoulder, there was a small waterfall a few steps before you, and the water wasn't much cold now that your skin got used to its temperature. The waterfall wasn't one of much pressure in its fall down, yet the splashing of water that fell on your head made you giggle, and Neteyam mirrored the sound haphazardly, murmuring, "little skxawng…"

Before you could sit down you quickly turned around, pulling his face toward yours, a fun smile still plastered on your face as you touched foreheads first, intensely staring at each other as you brushed noses, and finally closing your eyes as you kissed slowly. Staying with foreheads touched for a while, Neteyam's eyes went wide as he opened them to be met with a darkening color in the sky, "come on, yawne! (darling) It's almost dark!" He rushed you, who promptly seated on the river, the water not reaching further than your belly button and the water pressure still generating a funny feeling on your scalp.

With the help of the running water and Neteyam’s agile fingers, you divided your hair into two halves, one was yours and the other his. While the boy was quick to have his section of your hair nearly finished, whenever you thought you were doing really good with unraveling the hairdo, it formed a knot on your slim fingers, which led you to, in looping, exclaim in annoyance, grab the comb, and try to rapidly get rid of the knot.

“You’re going to lose a lot of hair, you know? Leave it to me, yawne.” He calmly stated, the neon lights of the lake and your surroundings already glowing with the nighttime, you paused, looking up so your eyes could reach him, but not get in the way of his handy work, “I’m sorry.” Neteyam blinked, his eyebrows knitting together for a split second, glowing freckles and amber eyes looking right into you, “what are you sorry about? Y/n, you’re my amhul, I want to take care of you, you know?” You smiled as he called you “his woman” still trying to get used to the intimacy of the both of you, even in a moment like this. “It’s past eclipse, ‘teyam… They’ll miss you” He knew what you were referring to. The curfew Jake and Neytiri had agreed and established with all of their children. He wasn’t being reckless, though, he wouldn’t leave you be to behave like a child and hurt yourself while taking off your braids, and his mother knew he had left looking for you – having the soft spot for you Neytiri grew to have, she would let this pass no questions asked. — “Y/n,” his tone was serious. deep. “Nga yawne lu oer. I’ll take care of you and then stay with you whenever you need me to. Hopefully for the rest of my life.” The feeling of his hands running through your braids and meticulously undoing it all was nearly massaging, distracting you. You blushed in a mauve color as your mind wandered to the suggestion of you and Neteyam being mates when he said he wanted to be with you for the rest of your lives, and as he finished letting all of your hair loose, he tapped your head lightly twice, holding his hand out in front of you so you could get up.

At the sight of his hand held out, blue fingers hanging in front of you, you grabbed it with your smaller one, kissing the back of his palm with your eyes closed, turning to him as soon as you got up. “Nga yawne lu oer. Thank you.” You smiled fondly, looking into each other’s eyes, eyebrows shooting up as the both of you stood in awe of the other. “You look beautiful with your hair like this.”

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barcalover86 · 8 months

Note

Hey I recently just got my wisdom tooth taken out, and I was wondering if you can write a story that Reader got her wisdom tooth taken out and she had the most hilarious reaction, and that Gavi is trying to comfort her but she’s like crying every second or being angry after. Pedri was there and was recording the whole thing?

Thank you!!!

Remember me? - Pablo Gavi

Hi! I hope you are feeling better! Enjoy, this one is for you! (I searched on tt some information and videos)

"I'm scared.." you whined for the hundred time in the last few minutes. You had to remove your wisdom tooth that started to make you uncomfortable for days.

"Y/n, you are not going to feel anything."

"I'm not scared of the pain while doing it, I'm scared of the after pain!"

Gavi laughed at your silliness face before giving you a kiss on your forehead and going to the waiting room.

Right before you had to open your mouth, you felt like you needed to go to the bathroom.

"Doc, I need to pee."

The man chuckled a bit, telling you that it's alright and you can go. When you walked next to your boyfriend, he looked confused.

"Done already?"

"No."

"Decided to leave?" he laughed, but you were in no mood of his jokes now. You were clearly scared of what's going to happen, and your boy couldn't be serious once.

"I needed to pee, Pablo."

"Ohhh, want to help you? You might relax after-"

"Stop, Gavi!"

He laughed hard before giving you a surrender face.

After you were ready and came back, you saw Pedri sitting next to your boyfriend. You knew he would come because he literally begged you for hours.. now it felt like it was the worst decision you've ever done.

"Good luck, y/n!"

You gave him a short smile, while holding for the last time Gavi's hand.

You apologised to the medical team that had to take care of you, feeling bad that they had to wait for you.

"Don't worry, señorita. We are here to support you and we promise you that everything will be alright. How can we call you?"

"Y/n."

"Alright, y/n. First of all, we have to give you a sedation for you not to feel any pain. We can make you fall asleep, or we can just make your body relax, and you can see everything. It's all up to you."

"I don't know-"

"It doesn't hurt in any case"

The doctor smiled at you before you said you prefer to fall asleep. Maybe like that, you won't be that scared when you'll see all the instruments that were placed on the table in front of you.

"Tell me how is more comfortable, ok?" he said while adjusting your sit.

After you were sedated, you closed your eyes to fall asleep faster, which only took about 2 minutes to be completely in your dreams.

It didn't take long, onlu about 40 minutes, but the two boys that were waiting outside for you, started to get nervous.

"She'll remember me, right?"

"Yes, Gavi! She can't forget you."

Pedri was laughing at how impatient his friend was. Love was driving him mad.

After everything was done and you were finally awake, one of the assistants came to the waiting room to say that you are free to go home for now.

"Can we go see her?"

"Yes. Come right after me"

The two boys entered the room and saw you standing on your butt with your back on the wall. You smiled when you saw your boyfriend and wanted to stand up to go hug him.

"Hi!!!"

"No, no, cariño. Stay right there for a moment." laughed Gavi.

"How was it, y/n?" asked Pedri with a curious face. He was dying to know what you are going to say.

"Why are you filming me?"

Pedri chuckled, telling Gavi that you'll love to see your reaction after you are done with anaesthesia.

"Do you remember this boy, y/n?"

"You think I'm stupid? I'm not like all those girls that... that.. oh, you got it."

"Yeah, yeah, then what's his name?"

"Pablitoo"

Pedri started to laugh hard while recording you.

"How do you feel, amor?"

"I can barely speak and my mouth is dry. Can I have some water, please?"

Gavi went to ask someone for some water, while Pedri was helping you stand up for you to get to your car.

When Pablo came back with a yellow drunk, you borrowed your eyebrows.

"Que es esto?"

"Forgot english, hermanita?" asked Pedri in a teasly voice.

While you showed him your half tongue, not being able to move your mouth much, Gavi was telling you that it's pineapple juice.

"It's going to help you with your dryness"

"Oh, then I'm going to take it." you said while swallowing it in a second.

While you were in the car, you started to complain about hunger.

"I didn't eat for days!"

"You didn't eat since yesterday, and it's not even lunchtime, y/n!"

"You always like to talk that much, Pedri?"

"Oh, who is the one that's saying this!? You've been complaining about food since we left! I'm the driver so I can get you out of my car."

At that, you got sad even if he only joked. Gavi, being the passager, looked back at you to see that you were on the edge of crying.

"Don't cry!!!" he said in a baby voice.

While your boyfriend was trying to make you calm, Pedri arrived at your house.

"Let's go get you some sleep, ok?"

"I already slept! I want to eat something, amorr."

"We eat something, then we can go to have a nap. Deal?"

"Deal."

Pablo prepared you some soft foods for you to eat, but them not being consistent enough, made you still hungry.

"Can you hold me, please???"

Gavi smiled and hugged you.

"You guys are so sweet." Pedri said while recording you again.

"So sweet, yeah. Until he wanted to fuck me right before the operation."

Pedri started to laugh hard, while Gavi was blushing.

"You can't say that, amorrr."

You kissed his cheek, while looking at how hard Pedri was laughing.

"I've got that on record! Ah, I can't wait to see your reaction after you are normal, y/n."

"What do you mean!? You say I'm crazy now?"

"Oh..no, no!"

While you started to catch Pedri, Gavi was the one that was filming it now.

"Go get him, cariño!!"

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37-drc89 · 4 months

Text

should be the last night we’re apart; kim seungmin

trope: exes to lovers.

genre: angst with good ending.

warnings: self-hatred.

word count: 1,4k.

note: i will appreciate every reblog, comment, feedback, as always! thank you so much for reading! x

masterlist

Slight lantern light shined through the glass, painting the room's walls weak orange. Other than that, only darkness wrapped your body tightly, so tightly it could almost suffocate you. Cold wind blew through opened window, sending unpleasant shivers down your spine, but there’s no strength in you to close it. There’s no strength to look in the mirror in front of you. No strength to look at yourself.

How many days passed? Eight? Nine? Nineteen?

How many days passed since Seungmin left?

Counting was useless, it always successfully blurred into nothing. Or maybe it was just you who never tried recalling that day, as it sent physical pain into your crashed, aching heart. However, it seemed to be the only thing your mind could ever go back to.

You promised each other to be infinite, until death and further. But the problem about every good book is that it always has its end, and that's all you've learned since the day you were born. Maybe Seungmin didn't enjoy your book. Maybe he got bored of the plot, maybe the characters were a mismatch for him, maybe there were typos on your side that made him go. You could be searching for any explanation all day and night, but the proper words were taken away from you, along with your promised eternal love, with Seungmin.

Your head rests on your knees, eyes focused out somewhere on the floor, looking for any other emotion that could fill you, other than pure guilt. You need to go on. You might be hurt, but life doesn't end here. At least that's what movies say, so why does it feel otherwise?

Obviously, your friends did reach out to you. They sat there, held your hand, patted your back, wiped your tears. They rewatched your favourite shows over and over again, joked around, and you smiled, you laughed even, only for the grin to go long forgotten when doors closed behind them. Additional guilt creeping on your back for being nothing but a burden, weight even your closest friends couldn't lift for you.

And Seungmin was nowhere to be found. Everytime someone walked around the stairway, useless hope grew in your chest, only to brutally be dragged back down when it happened to be your neighbour. Every notification your phone popped made your breath stop, but his name never appeared on the screen. Your fingers always hovered above that send button, unsure about the millionth message you've been preparing the whole day, always ending up deleting it anyway. You stopped trying and your phone remained untouched since. No point of waiting if there's nothing to be waiting for.

It felt as if every good thing was taken away from you. Your every first time, every good joke, every tooth-rotting sweet message, every pleasant morning and evening when you got to lay down next to the love of your life. Was it all really something you have to say goodbye to... for good?

Even the time when your first kiss happened, on that one regular sleepovers of yours? When air thickened during a simple conversation you always had, right before going to bed, his hand slipped over yours, but eyes never left the wall in front of him. Silence grew between the two of you as you quietly blinked at him. "Can I kiss you?" he murmured with dead serious face and you nodded before you could even think. Situation got to you only when his lips connected with yours, staying there for what felt like eternity. Back then you could swear you've never seen Seungmin so passionate about something, so whipped. Your lips felt like they were meant to be kissing each other, and it felt right. Something finally felt right. When your lungs started yearning for breath and he pulled away, first genuine smile appeared on his lips that night, eyes softer than they have ever been, and your heart told you right there that you indeed love the boy in front of you. And as much as your heart fooled you sometimes, you trusted it - do you now have to let it down and forget?

Or about the night he found you in your bathroom, face soaked in burning tears, body completely nude, all but painful whimpers coming out of you, the night you felt especially unattractive, ugly, hideous. When he caged you inside his comforting embrace, not letting you speak as Seungmin knew nothing but self-hatred will come out of you. When his lips carefully kissed every part of your body, slowly, mumbling sugar sweet words into your skin, as if he wanted them to linger underneath it. He kissed every scar, every mole, every beauty mark, your every insecurity. In the end he kissed away your tears, not bothering the salty taste, whispering his admiration and love. The night you felt gentler about yourself for the first time in your life.

Now you despise what you see once again. There is nothing to love.

1 am struck on the clock, reminding you about how long you've been rotting into your bed, another four hours flew by your head before you could catch them. Few messages from your friends already cold on your phone, you should check them, you should at least let them know that you are alive, but are you really? Can you consider your current state as living?

Krrrth.

Your ears fail to catch that familiar sound of key being inserted into the keyhole, lock sliding open right after. You only notice stairway light sliding into your apartment along with doors opening quietly, but it disappears seconds after. Faint steps growing louder as a figure stands in the doorframe, in complete dark. But the silhouette is so well known to you you could recognize it half-blinded.

He locked his gaze at your poor, small figure, finding your eyes in the dark immediately. Soft pants leave his lips, a sign that he most likely ran. To you.

Kim Seungmin.

The last person you need. The only one you want to see.

"y/n,"

Your name on his lips feel like a curse and like a blessing, and you can't tell if the knot inside your stomach is tightening or loosening. You want to punch him, you want to scream, you want to kick him out and tell him not to come see you ever again. But more than that, you want to hold him and never let him go again. To kiss him all over, to cry into his chest, to confess your love for him over and over again.

Your mind quiets as Seungmin makes his way to you, kneeling in front of you. Moonlight perfectly reflects dried tear stains on his face, you hear his breath shake. His hand lifts up, reaching out for yours, but he doesn't dare to touch you, to scare you, waiting for your permission. Only when your cold, trembling hand leans in into his, Seungmin carefully holds it. His other hand sneaks itself around your back, scooping you into his embrace. You could protest. But this moment feels like a dream come true. Like something you've been searching for for your whole life. He holds you so gently like you're the most fragile, porcelain masterpiece ever created, just like you remember. Your hands roll into weak fists, ready to punish him for leaving, but all you're capable of is clutching them on his hoodie as strongly as you can. Tears that seemed dried out for the past days start flowing, and they run, run, run down your face one by one, creating a steady stream.

Time passes. Minutes or hours, you're not sure. Seungmin pulls away gently, hands coming up to hold both of your wet cheeks. His heart trembles at the poor sight, another set of tears threatening to fall from his own eyes. He knows he hurt you. He knows he's the one responsible for what he sees. And he is ready for you to punch his face, aware that this is the only thing he deserves from you.

But instead, you lean in, laying your swollen, red lips on top of his. And he can't help but hold you closer, like he's getting the greatest award for being the worst dick existing.

"My love. I will explain to you, everything," stream of tears go down his cheek, bottom lip trembling. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry. For everything you've been through, because of me."

"This better be the last night we were apart." You squeak weakly, running your thumb over his lips, effectively shushing him. Right now that doesn't matter, because Kim Seungmin is by your side once again.

You can tell if something is right when most things in this world are plain wrong.

And you know this is right.

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galazry · 5 months

Text

you're just the same.

pairing: scaramouche x gn!reader genre: angst content: scaramouche trying his best to keep you alive. cw: character death word count: 557 a/n: wanted to expand on this! was listening to a sad song as i thought of this hehe

As the rain kept pouring down, Scaramouche ran as fast as he could to the nearest city. Whether it be his fellow harbinger or his underling, he'll bite their heads off if they dare to block his path. The warmth in his arms was dissipating, something that alarmed him greatly. Your breathing was getting shallower by the second and the aching in your stomach was getting unbearable.

You had insisted on accompanying Scaramouche, begging him to let you come. He, at first, declined like always. Despite that, you persisted, and with a sigh, he agreed, though with some rules you had to obey. The harbinger wouldn't admit it, but he was both glad and worried that he had your company— glad that he had you by his side, and worried that something might happen to you along the way.

He shouldn't have let you come with him...

He should have stayed alert throughout the whole expedition..

He should have noticed the assailant who was waiting in the dark..

The moment Scaramouche felt hot, red liquid across his face was a moment that had been burned into his mind. His ears ringed as he watched your body slumped onto the ground. The harbinger tried to call your name, shake your body, anything and yet there was no response. The assailant, thinking that this was the perfect opportunity to strike, began to charge at him. Said assailant wasn't able to take another step before a sudden jolt of electro coursed through his veins.

All Scaramouche could see was red as he beats the enemy to a pulp. He did not even realize that the skies had gotten darker as rain began to pour down onto them. The only thing he cared about was the feeling of the assailant's cold, lifeless body. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. He was not about to let this go. A weak groan and cough then brought him back to reality.

You were still alive.

Without a word, he picked up your weak body and started running. The amount of blood that had pooled on the ground beneath you, as you cried out in pain made him panic.

The city was near... Just a few more steps...

He even prayed to any of the Archons or Celestia that they would keep you alive...

"You'll be fine," he thought to himself.

"Everything's going to be fine..."

His lips trembled when the doctor shook their head. No... it can't be... They must have not checked you correctly... You can't be dead. You can't be. He needs you. He needs you by his side. Scaramouche demanded that they do another check up on you. The doctor tried to reason with him, but the harbinger didn't want to hear any of it. After all... you had promised him.

You promised to always be by his side.

You promised to never leave him.

You promised that this time, it'll be different.

As he watches the doctor covering your whole body with a white sheet of cloth, a faint memory of your last words to him resurfaced. Scaramouche recalls seeing a weak smile on your face as he finally arrives at the city. "I'm sorry..." he had heard you mutter quietly before closing your eyes for the last time.

In the end, you're just the same.

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forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

Hi! If you still write for Nurse Steve, could you possibly do one where she’s in Labor but she doesn’t tell Steve because she doesn’t want to worry him. And then she has complications and someone finally lets him know and he drops everything and runs to her.

AN | Oh? It’s finally time for these to have their first baby? Okay 🥺 I did take some liberty with this, but I hope y’all enjoy! This can be read as a companion piece to the below but also as a stand alone!

Warnings | Mild Language, Labor/Delivery

Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Steve, Main, Nurse Steve

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You grew more impatient and antsy with every passing day. Every day since you’d been off for the last two weeks had left you wondering when the day would finally come. Your due date was just a few days away and you really just wanted all of this to be over (the whole being almost nine months pregnant thing did that to you) and to finally meet your daughter.

There wasn’t much you could do at this point, especially around the house or out in public, so you were basically just waiting. This kid was taking her sweet time to make an appearance. Nesting had already happened and by now you were sure that everything was in place as it needed to be. Steve was still working, at your insistence, although he was more than prepared to stay home with you so you didn’t completely lose your mind.

And, you know, in the event that you finally went into labor. But you assured him that he would be the first to know, and if it happened while he was working, someone could easily fetch him. Instead you busied yourself with baking and cooking, making plenty of treats to keep your sweet tooth satisfied and stocking up on some meals that could easily be unfrozen on nights neither of you were prepared to cook with a newborn.

Now it was all one long waiting game.

But maybe…it wouldn’t be too much longer after all.

“Oh,” you felt a sharp pain ripple through your belly and abdomen as you clutched the counter for a bit of support. The sensation felt odd and you definitely did not like it. But you also decided not to worry about it, trying to convince yourself that it was just a one time thing. After all, you were almost there in your pregnancy and lots of things could be happening. Yeah, looking back on it, you were definitely a fool.

After the initial pain had passed you went about your day, doing some laundry and making sure everything in the house was stocked up with what you'd need for at least several weeks. You’d done enough research, talked to enough mothers to know that you wouldn’t want to have to think about this for a while after having your baby. Unfortunately, the pains came again, but fortunately they were few and far between at this point. Nothing to worry about yet…

You finished up the last few things in the bathroom, when you felt the pain again, followed by what felt like a weird trickling feeling down your leg.

You looked down and noticed the wet spot on your leggings and let out a long sigh. You knew that you hadn’t just wet yourself so that could logically only mean one thing, “shit.”

This was what you had been waiting for…and yet you felt so incredibly unprepared for this moment. You weren’t ready to go into labor and have your baby girl just yet…you needed some time, just a little more…but unfortunately that was not how life worked.

“Camila,” you rubbed your belly gently as if talking to her would get her to stay inside just a little bit longer. You tried to hold back your tears, but it was an overwhelming moment and you were experiencing approximately a hundred emotions at once, “can you wait just a little bit longer? Daddy’s at work and I-I don’t want to bother him. Just maybe until tonight, okay? O-or tomorrow morning.”

It was stupid, you knew, to try and push this off as long as you could but there was no reason to panic. You reminded yourself that you weren't going to do anything until the contractions came every couple of minutes and lasted for at least a minute or more. That’s when you’d go to the hospital. It would all be fine…everything would be just fine. That was the mantra you kept repeating to yourself anyway.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time Steve came home that night, things had…progressed. You tried to play it off as much as you could, deciding you would tell him over dinner. You wanted him to have a chance to change and relax for a little before springing it on him. You were able to keep it together for a bit, until you felt the pain coming again and held onto the fridge handle so tightly he was surprised it didn’t break.

“Sweetheart,” he looked at you with wide, nervous eyes as you tried to smile through the pain. That was easier said than done; there was nothing but a grimace on your face, “what’s wrong? Are you - did you - contractions?”

“Mhmm,” you closed your eyes and tried to breathe through it, “‘s fine, Stevie.”

“How long have you been having them?” he tried to slowly pull your hand away so you could hold his, and wrapped the other around your waist, “angel. Can you tell me what’s been going on?”

“Earlier,” you confessed and he let out a long breath. Alright, well, that might not have been the best thing, but you were going to be okay. He would make sure of that, “started earlier and then my water broke.”

“Your water broke!?”

“Yeah,” you gave him a sheepish expression in a vain attempt to calm him down. You should have known better than that, “they’ve been far apart enough and it’s just now getting worse.”

“You’ve been having them for hours though and your water broke,” he sat down on the couch, running a hand anxiously through his dark hair, “why didn’t you call me? Sweetheart, I love how strong and independent you are, but I really wish you would have called. I would have come home already and you could have been at the hospital by now.”

“I didn’t wanna bother you,” tears glistened in your eyes, not at him or anything but the entirety of the situation. He crouched down so he was on your level and tenderly brushed them away, “didn’t want to bug you at work.”

“Honey,” his tone adopted a soft, fond tone. Ahh, yes, of course his sweet, clumsy girl didn’t want to bother him, “this would not have bugged me at all. You are the most important thing to me, and you are never a bother.”

“‘m sorry,” you blubbered, “I wanted her to come and now I wish she’d slow down. I’m scared. I’m not ready for her to be here, I’m not ready to be a mom! I can’t do this, Stevie.”

“Sweetheart,” he cooed softly, stroking your cheek, tenderly turning your face up to his, “it’s okay to be scared and nervous; that’s normal. I’m so nervous too, I’m scared to be a dad. But I know we’ll be okay - we won’t be perfect and we’ll fuck up sometimes, but that’s just part of life. We’re going to be okay, angel. This is just the last big thing we have to get through before we get to meet our daughter. And I know you’re going to get through this, you’re so strong and resilient, but it’s okay to be scared.”

“Will you stay with me?” you looked at him with the softest eyes and he chuckled fondly, “please?”

“You don’t have to ask,” he pressed soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks before stopping at your lips, “I’ll be right by your side the entire time.”

“Can I hold your hand?”

“Absolutely.”

“Do you promise it’ll be okay?” your lip trembled with effort as you tried to keep from completely crying.

“Pinky,” he held out his pinky finger to you, which caused a sniffy laugh to bubble up as you wrapped your finger around his, “just think - soon we’ll get to meet our sweet Camila.”

“I hope she looks like you,” you blurted out as he just laughed softly, “you’re so pretty.”

“Flatterer,” he teased, “I hope she looks like you; or both of us. Either way, we’re gonna have a very cute kid.”

You inhaled before slowly letting it all out, “okay. I-I think I’m ready.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you pouted, causing him to kiss it away until you were smiling again.

“I’m going to go and get your hospital bag and then we’ll go to the hospital,” he explained as you nodded, “I’ll be right there with you.”

“Okay,” you squeezed his hand tightly, “let’s do this then.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It felt unreal being at the hospital, hooked up to a bunch of monitors and listening to your baby’s heartbeat. The initial nerves were still there, but there was also the pain that came with labor that pretty much overshadowed that. Steve, luckily, had kept to his word and was at your side the entire, letting you hold his hand, even when he was pretty sure you were going to break it. But it didn’t matter; he would do anything for you.

He was also impressed in a weird way with how well you’d been able to handle your contractions throughout the day. By the time you were at the hospital and all settled in, it wasn’t long before you were ready to start pushing. And, despite your initial hesitancy and wanting to hold off on having a baby for a little while longer, you were more than happy to get going.

And then, after all the worries, fears, and tears, it all ended with a crying, but healthy, baby girl. It all felt like it happened so fast; from pushing and having her, to getting to hold her for the first, to watching Steve sit next to you with the small bundle in his arms. It felt like the most perfect site in the entire world; he was looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the entire world. He knew what love was; he’d know what it felt like to fall in love with you. But this was like he was falling in love all over again.

“I wish I had a camera,” you whispered softly, catching his attention as he looked up at you with a giant smile on his face. He scooted his chair as close as he could to your bed, making it so you could see her too, “she’s already got you wrapped around her finger.”

“Yeah,” he cooed softly at the sleeping baby, “she does. But so do you. I can’t believe we have a baby - we made her.”

“We did,” you held out your hand and ever so lightly brushed your knuckle over her cheek, “is it weird to already be so in love with her? It feels like we’ve always had her, always loved her.”

“It’s not weird at all,” he promised, leaning over to kiss you softly, “this is the second and a half best day of my life.”

“Steve,” you kept your laugh softly as you stroked his cheek, “what were the first two?”

“Meeting you and marrying you,” his eyes lit up happily, “besides - she wouldn’t have been possible without it.”

“It always comes down to the broken ankle,” you snorted in amusement, “but it’s like you always say, we would have met some other way; we were meant to be.”

“We were,” he beamed at you before looking back at his newborn daughter, “thank you for this. All of it.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” you insisted, stifling a yawn, “just remember that when it’s three in the morning and you’re on diaper duty.”

“I’ll complain but I’ll do it with love,” he promised, “I love you so much, my clumsy, stubborn, strong girl.”

“I love you,” you blinked away your tears, “both of you.”

“Yes,” he agreed gently, “we already love you so much, Cami girl.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #joe keery #joe keery x reader #joe keery x you #nurse!steve

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turcott3 · 12 days

Text

main thing

kirby dach x fem! reader

warnings?: mild smut at the beginning, disgustingly tooth rottingly sweet fluff and cursing (i wrote this for myself and my delusions tbh)

~all i wanna do is spend my time with you, even when the learnings done and nothings new~

positions fics masterlist

“oh fuck.” you moan out. you could feel his bright blue eyes piercing your body as your eyes squeezed shut, an orgasm quickly approaching.

“so so good for me baby.” he coos as you collapse over his chest, feeling weak and shaky as your orgasm jolts through your body, hips stuttering as he coated your walls with his own high. you laid on his chest as you both breathed heavily.

“i love you so fucking much.” you say between breaths, pressing a sweet kiss to his jaw.

“i love you more.” he replies, delicately wrapping his arms around your weak body. you laid there for a moment inhaling his sweet scent with your eyes shut.

“baby, you gotta get up.” he giggles brushing your hair out of your face as you sat up slowly. you get up off of him, collecting his discarded shirt and pulling it on over your freshly-fucked body. it was moments like these that you felt the most beautiful. you learned very quickly that post sex glow is very real if you're with the right person.

you slid on your underwear and pulled the lazy brunette out of bed, forcing him to put sweatpants on and tugging him into the kitchen.

"y/n it's 11 pm."

"and i want a bowl of cereal with my boyfriend? i dont see the issue." you giggle as you pull the bowls out of the cabinet.

"fair." he replies emerging from the pantry with the box. this was your average night. you always see couples going out together and partying, which was fun in the beginning but you both quickly learned that both of you preferred staying home with each other. you were home bodies.

“hey baby.” he muffled with his mouth full.

“yeah.” you replied after you swallowed.

“you need your back rubs tonight? you didn’t get em last night.” he says finishing his bite.

“oh, you don’t have to it’s okay.” you reply, heart melting at the gesture. when you were younger, you dislodged a disk in your back during your solo. it had bothered you ever since. occasionally causing you intense pain and somehow, every show week you had he remembered. he’s spent the whole season out with and injury which was both a blessing and a curse. you loved that he was always at your beck and call but it broke your heart knowing that he had to miss an entire season of the one thing he’s most passionate about.

“you don’t seem relaxed, you seem stiff.” he replies which was the truth but most times it felt ,to you, like a burden on him.

“kirbs, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” you reply running your finger through his soft curls.

“no i do want to. i want to make sure you sleep so good tonight. you have a big show coming up baby. i can’t wait to see you look so fucking beautiful on that stage.” he smiles, kissing your cheek sweetly.

“okay.” you smile at the gesture, putting the bowls into the sink. you laid flat on your mattress, pulling the shirt up to your shoulders as his warm hands worked out the tightness of your muscles. you sighed as the pressure was lifted from your back and into thin air. you frowned as his hands left your back for the last time.

“feel better pretty girl?” he says lowly close to your ear and you hum in approval as he presses a soft kiss to your back. a ritual the two of you shared, kissing your “ouchies” better.

it could be all in your head, but it felt like the pressure of his kiss always solved your pain. physical, or emotional.

“thank you baby.” you smile sitting up as a relief washed over your body.

“of course.” he smiles back, kissing you sweetly on the lips. only a smile and a giggle breaking it apart.

“you ready for bed sleepy girl, you got a big rehearsal tomorrow.” he says as you tuck yourself into bed.

“oh definitely.” you yawn out as he joins you in bed. you roll over facing the boy who was already admiring you.

“sorry for staring.” he giggles.

“oh never apologize for that, i’m just as guilty.” you giggle as he pulls you to his chest snuggly.

“you’re just so gorgeous, my beautiful baby.” he whispers into your hair.

“stop.” you giggle turning red.

“what? am i not about to gloat about how lucky i am to be with someone as beautiful and talented and sweet and,”

“kirby.” you say sternly leaning up to his cheesy smile.

“what?” he giggles.

“not too much, you know me and compliments.”

“baby i already told you, you just need to say thank you, you do not have to compliment me back. just let me admire my gorgeous girlfriend.” he replies kissing you on the forehead as he speaks.

“thank you.” you smile.

“of course, you deserve it all baby,” he says placing his chin on the top of your head.

“goodnight my love.” he whispers

“goodnight handsome.” you giggle, pressing a short, sweet kiss to his lips.

the pet names practically made you sick to your stomach with sweetness but with time you grew to love them. you felt so lucky to have been chosen by a man like him. so effortlessly loving and generous.

“i love you.” he whispers, reaching to pull the lamp chain.

“i love you.” you reply as your eyes grow heavy at the sound of his heart thumping calmly in his chest.

#kirby dach #kirby dach imagine #kirby dach x reader #kirby dach smut #montreal canadiens #turcs’ talk #positions fics

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perpetualfox · 8 months

Note

I wanna chomp into his arm and tell him to flex !! Fill my whole mouth with him and make him have to pinch my nose to get me off. Take a bite off the extra meat packed onto his inner thigh before eating that mf out. Chomp chomp chomp

Bite Me - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x GN!Reader [NSFW]

Warnings: Biting, blood play, pain play, rough handling.

Wordcount:

All I can say for myself is this:

→You kneel before him, taking your place at his feet like it’s the easiest thing in the world—an act of submission devoid of shame; one he beholds in silent wonder from his perch at the edge of the bed. He looms above you, still mostly clothed, his back ramrod straight—a soldier even in moments of respite. The thick treads of his boots sink into the plush carpet, his laces still pulled tight through dented metal eyelets; thick cord knotted so tight it creaks against the dark leather. His belt lays across his lap—flayed open in seconds by eager fingers—the heavy buckle lost beneath the sharp curve of his hipbone. When you had asked, he’d pealed back his cargos, but they’d made it no closer to the floor than his knees, the thick material bunched up beneath them—a show of vulnerability, but on his own terms.

→You’d taken it for the gift it was.

→Stretching forward, you crane your neck to nuzzle against the pale expanse of his inner thigh. His gloves creak as his fists ball into the sheets, and a little thrill goes through you—to be given so much for so little…from Ghost it was as near a dazzling smile or an earnest admission of love as you had ever come. It was intoxicating. You turn your head, lips grazing a hot stripe along his flesh. He twitches beneath you as you mouth along the knotted ridge of an old scar. You know them well, the stories Simon wears on his skin—the kiss of a knife from Mexico, the crater carved out by a bulled he’d caught in Verdansk, the evenly spaced tears of Russian razor-wire—each more terrible than the last, each beheld with a reverence with which he is woefully unfamiliar. Something in his guts squirms with a feeling he cannot name each time you turn it on him—not quite shame, though it takes a similar shape. It’s a battle not to squirm with it.

→Your lips ghost across a smooth patch of flesh, and you pause. The unmarred skin is cool under the heat of your mouth. Your teeth scrape against the flat, untextured skin. Ghost does not move. Your eyes flick up to meet his, eyebrows raised, questioning. In the darkness, you can’t make out the soft brown of his irises; there is nothing but the fathomless black of his pupils, swallowing everything. He stares down at you from behind that expressionless mask. There is no trace of Simon in that stare, only Ghost, his eyes flat and dead. But he understands you all the same, and he nods, the barest tilt of his head; a movement you would have missed if you hadn’t been looking for it. A smile splits your lips as you stamp a final, open-mouthed kiss against his thigh before you crack open your jaw, and sink your teeth in.

→You go slow, allowing him to feel the press of each individual tooth; the slow transition from a bearable pressure to a deep ache as each curve and point burrows deeper into his pale flesh. The hard muscle tenses and jumps beneath you as you bear down on him. His breath catches in his throat, a sharp hiss clamped tight between his teeth. You feel the skin pucker as you bite down, the pressure moulding his flesh around your teeth. It welcomes the strange new shapes as best it can, until, at last, it can take no more, and it tears. Fat droplets of blood well up and pool in the indentations you’ve made—the copper tang of it salty and warm on your tongue.

→You try to pull back, to offer reprieve from the pain that has him gritting his teeth and shuddering beneath you, but a heavy gloved hand thumps down against the back of your neck. He guides you—almost pushing you back down, urging your teeth deeper into the meat of his thigh. There is nowhere else to go, so you let yourself go limp, allowing your head to loll to the side, tucking neatly into the ‘v’ of his hip.

→The swell of his cock bumps up against your cheekbone, warm, and thick—even through a layer of black cotton—and harder than it had any right to be. Shifting your weight, you lean into him, pressing the soft meat of your cheek into the heat of him. A cooing sound chirps to life at the back of your throat, and you smile around his thigh, revelling in the knowledge that this was your doing—revelling in the smell of him, thick and heavy; in the weight of him against your cheek; in the little grunts that catch between his teeth.

→You lock your jaw, and his hold only tightens, the grip pads of his gloves scraping rough against your flesh as his fingers dig into the side of your throat. His thumb brushes against your cheek, coming to rest just beneath the corner of your jaw, pressing up hard enough you’re sure to have a bruise in the morning. He’s trembling beneath you now, almost rocking up into your mouth, even as your bicuspids threaten to do their job and widen the holes you’ve already made in him.

→“Fuck, Lovie,” His voice, little more than a gruff whisper, barely pricks at your ears, “…could cum like this.”

→A shudder rattles through you, your jaw flexing against his thigh, your teeth scraping against wounded and oversensitive flesh, drawing a strangled groan from his throat. Fluid drips warm and wet down over your chin and throat—saliva or blood—you don’t care. Your world narrows to a single point, big enough only for Ghost: the heat of his slick flesh in your mouth and the desperate throb of his cock against your cheekbone.

→Could he really?

→The thought barely registers in your mind before you’re clenching down hard enough to feel something click in your jaw. Ghost makes a wounded sound, his body jerking beneath you as a warm wetness begins to spread against your cheek.

→The hand at the back of your neck goes slack, and you pull yourself back, dizzy and shuddering. Ghost’s chest heaves, his limbs gone boneless and jittery as the aftershocks have their way with him. As he slowly drifts back to himself, his fingers trail absently through the slick mess you’ve made of his thigh. Blood and saliva dribble down to stain the sheets between his legs. When at last he feels present in his body again, he reaches out swipes a droplet of blood from your chin with a broad thumb, “Messy fuckin’ thing you are, hey?”

→You nod dumbly, the tang of his blood still sitting thick on your tongue. He pats your cheek, heavy and slow. Your head lolls against his large palm, your eyes going half lidded, fluttering with each rough stroke of his fingers. “‘S all your fault, Lovie, innit?”

→You nod and quick as a viper, he takes you by the back of the neck and presses your face down against the cum-damp fabric of his boxers, “And this too.” It isn’t a question this time, but you nod anyway. You can feel his spend already beginning to cool as his hips kick up against the softness of your cheek. “That’s right. So be fuckin’ useful and clean it up for me.”

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost smut #mw2 smut #i just want to bite him and bite him and bite him

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simpforfandoms · 1 year

Text

Here with me

a/n: I got my wisdom teeth out and I’m high on pain killers rn so I don’t know what this is also it's been like a year since I've last uploaded I've just haven't had the motivation whoops. Also requests are open so please request I'm running out of ideas.

pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader (probably could be read as gender neutral)

summary: reader got broken up with by a text of all things

genre: angst, hurt with comfort, tooth-rotting fluff at the end

word count: 2665

warnings: language, not proofread

masterlist

“you’re nice and all but I don’t think this is going to work out.”

You’re heart drops. You read the text over and over again. Guess he lives up to his name. What kind of person ends it over text? You don’t know how to respond. A million thoughts at once fill your head. Do you respond with a whole ass paragraph begging him not to leave you? Do you call him? Do you run over to his work? What the fuck do you do? Your finger hovers over the call button. If you call him would he even answer? What could you do to salvage this relationship? It wouldn’t be the same if you could fix the relationship. Doubt would fill your brain. More doubt than you already had. In retrospect, you should’ve seen this coming. Dick Grayson is a beautiful human sent from the heavens above. And you? Well, you’re just you. It was stupid of you to think that a guy like him could ever love a gal like you. You check the time.

5:48

You know Dick can see that you read the text for almost six minutes now. You freak out and reply with the first thing you could think of.

“Okay”

He reads it almost instantly.

And just like that, it’s over. Almost a three-year-long relationship. Down the fucking drain. It’s funny it seemed like only 2 hours ago he was telling you how much he loved you and missed you. Where did you go wrong? You’ve done nothing but been there for him. You’ve been a good girlfriend. Maybe not the best. Definitely not Barbara. Barbara. Her name brings a funny taste to your tongue. A pit in your stomach forms. She’s everything you’re not and more. He probably reconnected with her and realized that he’s better off with her. Oh my fucking god why can’t you be better. Be better. Be fucking better. So many words that you want to say to him. Please being the most frequent one. You want to cry. Scream. Anything. But you can’t. It’s like you’re paralyzed. You’re hands are shaking as you find the caller ID and quickly push it.

“hey what’s up?”

“me and dick broke up?” You say it almost like a question.

“What oh my god! What happened?!?! I’ll kill him”

“Babs I need you to be completely honest.” You say gulping, “did you have anything to do with it?”

“No of course not,” she says

Of course she didn’t. She might be Dick’s ex but she wouldn’t betray you. A part of you hates yourself for ever thinking that.

“I’m coming over right now” you hear a muffled voice in the background but before you could ask she hangs up.

Weird but you didn’t have time to focus on that. You just got dumped. You can’t say you didn’t see it coming. You don’t know what hurts worse, being broken up with or believing that for once you were worthy of love. People say that “you accept the love you think you deserve.” If that’s true than why the hell were you and dick together. Dick is the most perfect boyfriend. Maybe it was all a mask. Maybe he didn’t actually love you. A small part of you hope that its not true, but the logical more realistic part know that it was all just a fantasy. A beautiful fantasy, but a fantasy nevertheless. You wish you could cry. You feel like everyone else in this situation would cry. Maybe it’s because you’re still in denial. You’re still hoping for Dick to say this is some sick joke.

•

1 hour earlier

“You don’t understand I love her!” Dick retorts.

“Dick you don’t understand. Y/n’s a civilian. Telling her, hell even dating her puts her at risk. I am ordering you, not asking you, to break up with her.” Bruce says.

Dick takes a long exaggerated sigh. Leave it to Bruce to turn innocently declaring that he was going to propose into a full-blown argument. His brothers sit and watch patiently. As if they’re waiting for a lion to attack. Barbara, on the other hand, is waiting for a chance to speak. After all, you are her best friend, she has to do everything she can to prevent you from getting hurt. By that, she means mentally. She has no doubt in her mind that Dick can protect you. Honestly, she found it heartwarming that Dick had come to her for the approval of the engagement ring. She only regrets suggesting that he tells Bruce.

“Bruce I’m not a kid anymore you can’t boss me around.”

“Think about all the people we have lost because they knew our identity. If you truly loved this girl you would set her free.”

Dick mutters something under his breathe. Barley auditable. Something along the lines of “I don’t want to”

•

knock

You don’t bother to answer the door you know it’s Barbara. You know she has a key.

“Oh honey I’m so sorry!” She says as she runs over to hug you.

“It’s okay it’s not like your the reason he broke up with me.”

You notice a falter in Barbara’s face. She showed a tinge of guilt but as quickly as it appeared it went away.

“I know but I’m still sorry” she says.

“Y’know it’s funny Babs I thought I was gonna marry him. For a moment there I thought he felt the same. It was stupid of me. I turned a blind eye to him coming home late all the time. It shouldn’t have been such a big shock. I guess in the back of my mind i always knew there was someone else. I guess I should pack up my shit and get the fuck out of here. I don’t think I can handle looking into eyes without crumbling.” Tears begin to fall.

Barbara does nothing more than squeeze you tighter. A reassuring comfort that it’s not your fault. You know she knows something you don’t know and only wish she could tell you, but you also know that maybe she won’t tell you to keep you safe. You think about, if she knows that dick broke up with you because of someone else, maybe she’s just saving all the pain that comes with feeling you’re not enough. But she also has to know that you already feel your not enough. You pull away from the hug to look her in her eyes. Searching for answers. You grab her hands in yours.

“Babs if you know something I don’t please tell me, I know you want to protect me but please I assure you that I already have self doubt and if you tell me that there was for sure someone else all that could bring is closure. So please for the love of god tell me.”

She suddenly pulls away breaking eye contact.

“No! It’s not that- it’s uh. It’s all my fault Y/n. I’m so sorry.” She says in a hush voice covering her face in guilt.

As if your heart couldn’t possibly break it more, it feels betrayal.

“Babs were you the other woman?” You say not understanding.

“Oh my god of course not.” She turns her head to look at you. “I would never ever do that to you”

“Then how is it your fault?” You question confusion mixed with sadness on your face.

She turns away again.

“It’s just- oh god. I promised dick I wouldn’t tell you.” She closes her eyes and gulps. “A week ago Dick came to me asking to help pick out an engagement ring for you. He was going to propose.” She then looks at you searching for any reaction.

“He was? I don’t get it then why would he break up with me?”

“I convinced him that he should tell Bruce and all, thinking that Bruce would want to know. It ended up turning into a big argument. In the end Bruce convinced him to break up with you.” She sighs once again looking at your confusion ridden face.

“I still don’t get it. Bruce loves me. Why wouldn’t he want Dick to marry me?” You question.

“What Dick does for a living is dangerous.”

“I’m fine with him being a cop, he knows that.”

“No, it’s not just that. What we all do for a living is dangerous. Bruce likes you, he does. At first, he didn’t think you and Dick would last so he never thought that your relationship would get to the point where Dick would have to tell you the truth, but Dick had other plans. So when Dick told him he wanted to marry you, well-“ She stops taking a deep breath, “Bruce knew that marrying you would mean Dick would have to tell you the truth. So he told Dick that the only way to keep you safe was to break it off and if he truly loved you he would set you free.”

“How is any of that your fault?” You ask.

“Well after Dick stormed away I followed him to convince him not to break up with you. But he wouldn’t budge. He believed it would be selfish to continue your relationship while putting you jeopardy. He sacrificed his own happiness for your safety. He said he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something ever happened to you. I knew he wouldn’t budge so I at least tried to get him to break up with you in person but he knew if he saw you he would never be able to do it. You called me after it happened Dick begged me not to tell me anything but here we are” She finishes with tears in her eyes.

“None of that is your fault, Babs.” You say as you pull her into a hug.

She chuckles dryly, “I’m the one who should be comforting you.”

You both laugh through the tears.

“I still have one question though. What does he do for a living?”

Barbara stops laughing and contemplates telling you. She eventually stares you in the eyes and says barley above a whisper “he’s nightwing”

Though you barley heard it, you’re eyes widened. Suddenly everything made sense. The late nights. The excessive bruises. The leaving dates early. It was like the final piece of the puzzle.

“Where is he?” You say though you already know the answer.

You get up from the couch, grab your keys and are almost out the door til you hear babs say “Y/n please don’t tell him I told you”

You stop for a moment and say, “Thank you Babs” and rush out the door.

•

“Dude I can’t believe you actually listened to the old man” Jason says.

“I don’t need your shit Jason.” Dick mumbles on the Wayne manor sofa.

“I’m just saying, you’re in love with her. Everyone can see that.”

“That’s why I had to!” Dick yells, standing up.

Jason stands back, seemly pushing Damian in front of him as if it’s his turn to talk some sense into Dick.

“What Todd is trying to say is, it’s absurd that you of all people would take Father’s advice about love seeing how miserable he is.” Damian states.

“Ya, Bruce doesn’t know shit about relationships, even I can see that” Duke chimes in from across the room, not even looking up from his book.

"You wanna know why he can't seem to keep a relationship? Because he lets his fear consume him." Tim says bluntly.

"Yeah take Tim for example isn't he dating a civilian? Benard? Nothing has happened to him" Jasons says.

"Well, I wouldn't say nothing" Tim replies.

"Shut up, I'm trying to make a point." Jason sighs, "He's not dead is he?"

"Yeah, Tim and Benard seem to be going strong," someone chimes in from the doorway.

That voice. Dick could recognize that voice anywhere. They all turn to look at you. Jason is the first one that turns back towards Dick.

"See y/n gets it." He shrugs

"Yeah, I do."

There is a moment of silence. The silence is so loud. The tension so thick. The boys seem to notice this and walk away. Jason gives Dick a look that reads, "Don't fuck this up, lover boy"

When the boys all leave the room, leaving you and Dick alone, you walk towards him. Dick's piercing blue eyes stare into yours. Almost questioning you, as to say "what are you doing here".

"You didn't really think I'd let you break up with me over text, did you?" You smile.

Dick can't help it, he smiles back. Even though it's silent, you both are saying a million words to each other. He can look into your eyes for eternity. He can't believe he broke up with you without getting to see those gorgeous eyes again. But as much as he wants to keep looking, he can't, he knows if he does, he'll come running back to you. He knows if he does that, he'll never see those pretty eyes again. The reality of the matter hits him. He breaks eye contact, turning away and crossing his arms, as a way to say "please leave". You however have other plans. You come closer to him barely an inch away from him. You take his face into your hands and turn his head towards you. He tightly closes his eyes.

"Dick, please look at me." You say.

"I can't," he whispers.

"Why?"

He sighs closing his eyes even tighter. "You know why."

You silently remove your hands from his face, sliding them down to his chest. You sigh, about to remove your hands completely until he untucks his arms and lightly grabs your wrists. He looks down, finally looking into your eyes.

"Please don't go yet," He says.

"Dick I need you to tell me the truth"

You search his eyes for a sign, anything at all. What you find is remorse.

"Y'know I love you" You say

"I know."

"Dick you can tell me anything"

He sighs, "You already know the truth"

"But I need to hear it from you"

He sighs again, this time deeper. He stares into your eyes almost pleading with you so he won't have to say it because if he does it makes all of this a reality. The harsh reality that he'll either have to love you from afar, or put you in jeopardy because of him. He'd rather stay here with you in complete bliss. As long as he's with you he's complete. He can't imagine you gone. Alive but gone or dead and gone. He wishes things were simpler. In another time or maybe another universe, he thinks.

"I'm Nightwing"

You burst you laughing. Making Dick confused, but he couldn't help but start chuckling with you.

"My fiance's Nightwing" You start singing.

When you eventually catch your breath, Dick seems to have an even more confused face.

"What?" You question.

"Fiance?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Well yeah but only if you want to be" You smile sheepishly.

Instead of replying Dick swoops you up and kisses you. Not like any other kiss you've had with him, it was one filled with passion. All of the love left unsaid was poured into the kiss. Any doubt that either of you had was solved. When you finally break apart, you two are panting resting your forehead on each other. Dick casually slips an engagement ring on your finger. To which you pull away to look at.

"Oh, Dick it's beautiful!" You gush.

"You have Babs to thank for that," He says pulling you in for another kiss.

You're the love of his life, and he's yours. You know what you're getting yourself into but ultimately you'd rather die having him by your side than not at all. As long as you're with him you've got a smile on your face.

#dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #bruce wayne #x reader #angst #dick grayson angst #hurt/comfort #dick grayson hurt/comfort #dick grayson fluff #duke thomas #jason todd #barbara gordon #tim drake #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson one shot

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hollybell51 · 2 years

Text

Worse ways to cope

Series masterlist, masterpost

Minho x fem!Reader

The Death Cure (2011 novel - James Dashner, 2018 film - Wes Ball)

Word count: 4658

Summary: “lightly buzzed” confessions leading to making out leading to sex on a shitty couch. Set post-canon (hence The Death Cure as source media)

Content: smut. A massive amount of backstory for absolutely no reason. A lot of angst, talking about Newt dying (so violence, bit of mentioned blood/wounds etc). DRINKING! ALCOHOL! Unhealthily used alcohol! Don’t read this if you don’t wanna read about using alcohol as a coping strategy (disclaimer! I’m not endorsing or romanticising this at all, and I don’t encourage it! If things are rough, you should just spew your thoughts to strangers on the internet. Substances = bad coping mechanism). Kinda friends with benefits, feelings confessions, porn with feelings, making out, blowjobs, hickeys, light dirty talk, missionary, sex on a couch, safe sex (condoms! Yay!), first time

Notes: I got like three people asking for the others after I posted the Newt one so here you go, enjoy! Also apologies for the really bad summaries, I just suck at doing them and I can’t exactly get a friend to read my stuff then do it for me lmao

You set down the bottle with a soft “clunk”, leaning back against the couch. It was old and battered and a lot of the coverings on the cushions were coming off, not to mention the countless holes, but compared to the last few months it was heaven. The whole Safe Haven was heaven.

“That better not be empty,” Minho said, eyeing the (not empty) bottle between your feet.

“Half full,” you replied. “Is it Gally’s?”

He nodded. It sure tasted like the god-awful moonshine Gally used to make in the Glade, but you couldn’t be sure. Horrible as it was, the burn and the bitterness was familiar and welcome, a tie to the life and the people you’d left behind.

You glanced at your friend. He was slumped beside you, idly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, staring at the wall. You’d done this before, in the days since you’d arrived at the Safe Haven. But today was different, or he was different today. You could feel it. Maybe it was the warm breeze that had picked up around lunch time, maybe it was the prospect of the group of people who had volunteered to leave the safe haven tomorrow. Either way, you were restless and fidgety and there was definitely something tense in Minho.

It had been exactly a month since you’d arrived, and there was something heavier about everyone who’d been there in the city that night; you, Minho, Brenda, Thomas and Gally. Newt’s absence was like when you lost a tooth and you couldn’t stop running your tongue over where it should be, only to find empty space. And pain.

Even now, you could still see every detail with perfect clarity. The blue of the lights mingled with the orange of the fires, debris raining left and right as the walls came tumbling down and the desperate people from outside stormed the city. You didn’t want to think about your friend, lying on the ground, the handle of the knife sticking straight up from his chest. You didn’t even want to think about Teresa, sinking into a pit of flames as you all watched, helpless. You wanted to block the whole thing from your mind.

“I should’ve been faster,” Minho said, snapping you back to the present. “I could’ve saved him.”

You snorted. “We all could’ve saved him.” It always came back to this, no matter what. You’d sit down, have a normal conversation, maybe even crack some jokes, but then there was that massive pit yawning inside you that inevitably sucked everyone back to that night. It was like a black hole, so dense that nothing could escape its pull, devouring everything around it. But it was something that tied you together, and as much you hated it, you didn’t hate it.

He turned to look at you, his brow furrowed. “Do you blame me?”

You slowly bent, picked up the bottle and took another mouthful. Did you blame him? You couldn’t say you didn’t think it was his fault Newt had died, but Thomas had been the one with the knife and anyone else in the party had failed to see the signs or notice the scratch on his arm. You felt a bit bad for laying it all one someone who was dead, but really it was Newt’s fault for not telling anyone.

“(Y/N)?” Minho was looking at you, and though he tried to keep his face neutral, his eyes were pleading with you. Say no, he seemed to be screaming, say it wasn’t me. You knew the feeling all too well. You’d played the whole thing over and over, trying to work out if you could have done anything, and had come to the conclusion that if you’d been quicker getting the bloody berg to the rendezvous point, Newt probably still would have been alive. It ate at you even though you’d decided to put the responsibility on his shoulders.

“A lot of things could’ve gone different,” you said at last. “If he’d just told us straight off the bat, chances are we’d have gotten the cure. Simple as that.”

“You’re right.” He nodded, blowing out a breath between his teeth. “You’re right.”

“I wish I could just scratch the whole thing off my brain. It’s like…” you hesitated, struggling to find the words. “It’s like this coating over everything, you know?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, taking the bottle from between your legs. “I know what you mean.”

You were feeling lighter, softer. You supposed it was the alcohol hitting, but nothing really seemed as dark and real as it had just minutes before. It was like someone else’s memory, still sitting uncomfortably in your mind, but duller. You leaned over, resting your head on Minho’s shoulder and tracing a lemniscate on his thigh. Or an eight, depending on how you looked at it.

“This tastes so bad,” he whispered, as if the stuff in the bottle might hear him and get offended. “But it’s so good.”

“We should save some for later,” you whispered back. But you knew you wouldn’t, you never did. Thomas would frown if he saw you now, if he could hear your thoughts. He’d told you countless times to lay off the drinking, that he knew it was an escape but that that was bad, that it was better for everyone if you all just toughed it out sober and miserable. You had to disagree with him there.

Minho passed you the bottle, and you clumsily replaced the lid. You slid it onto the ground, groaning as it toppled over. But it was stoppered, so it would be fine.

“Keep doing that,” he told you, gesturing to your hand. You’d stopped tracing patterns on him to close the bottle, but at his words you resumed. He sighed, watching your fingers raptly.

“I’m happy you’re here,” you said eventually. It was true, he’d been your pillar of support over the last month. You’d sat together at almost every meal, worked on whatever it was you were doing together, talked about whatever you wanted to talk about, walked together and, yes, gotten drunk together. It was ridiculously comforting to have someone you liked being around who wanted to be around you.

“I’m pretty stoked about it too,” he grinned. You lightly punched his arm. “Seriously though,” he went on. “I’m happy you’re here.”

You looked up from your tracing, meeting his eyes. He was sincere, for once, and totally open. You hadn’t realised how important that was until recently, but now you treasured the fact that you could see his thoughts on his face. He could see yours too.

He glanced around quickly, but the recreation-room-turned-second-storage-shed you haunted was far enough from everyone else that nobody was going to disturb you. That was what you liked about it. Minho’s eyes found your own again, then flicked down to your lips, so fast you thought you’d imagined it. Were you that kind of drunk? Did you want to be? Then it happened again, and you were sure it was real.

Oh, was all you could think as he leaned forward, closing the gap between you with a kiss so gentle you could hardly believe it was coming from Minho, who never did anything by halves, and was always so loud and quick to add his five cents to anything. But his mouth was hesitant against yours, giving you plenty of time to draw back and tell him no, tell him that this wasn’t what you wanted.

Ironically, it was that very gentleness that cemented in your mind that yes, you very much did want this. You were angled awkwardly, twisted in the middle of your body with your legs beside his and your chest pressed against his shoulder. As you returned the kiss you shifted, your hands finding purchase on the front of his shirt, your fingers tangling in the material.

His own hands moved lightly down your sides, pulling at you to come closer. Without breaking the kiss, you slid a leg over his and shifted to straddle him, your hands still firmly planted on his chest. He was solid, real and warm and fuck he felt good to touch. Your earlier restlessness had migrated down to sit between your legs, uncomfortably warm and not entirely welcome.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he whispered, pulling back for air. “I’m sorry, I don’t wanna take advantage of you or anything like that–”

“You’re not,” you cut him off.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m buzzed, and not any more than you.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he looked from your face to the empty space behind you, the cogs whirring in his head. Damn him and his morals, you thought. Why did he have to choose now to be the perfect gentleman?

“If you don’t want to…” you started, but stopped when he shook his head. “You don’t want to?”

“I do,” he practically growled. “And that’s the bloody problem, isn’t it? We’re supposed to be friends, but every time we do this I end up thinking about you and then I want you and I don’t wanna want you like that cause you’re my friend, (Y/N), and we’re supposed to just…” He waved a hand helplessly, trailing off into nothing.

“Do you want me to shut you down?” you asked after a pause. How the hell were you supposed to respond to that? Minho wasn’t one for big sappy speeches, he dropped casual little bombs into everyday conversation, or let you pick up on things yourself. He didn’t pour it all out like that.

He laughed, a bitter huff of breath that still smelled like Gally’s moonshine, gesturing at your thighs either side of his hips, your hands knotted in his shirt. “Do you wanna shut me down? Cause you’re not doing a great job.”

You bit your lip. You could feel the heat of his kiss like it was still happening, and God you wanted it to still be happening. You couldn’t stop now, couldn’t just say “no, I don’t want you,” and go back to your business, least of all because it’d be a fat bloody lie.

“I’m not gonna shut you down,” you said eventually. “I’m gonna give you till ‘three’ to shut me down, and then I’m gonna go right back to kissing you. Got it? One, two—”

His lips collided with yours, so hard and fast you couldn’t stop the moan from escaping you. It was a mess of tongue and teeth and lips as he pulled you even closer, his fingers digging into your waist almost painfully. Almost.

“Jesus, Minho,” you panted between kisses. How long had he wanted to do this for? Was it just when he was drunk, or did he think about you while he was eating lunch beside you, while you two were doing your various jobs, when he was sleeping. Maybe he did, you’d sure felt the evidence that he was thinking about someone some mornings when you woke up wrapped in his arms, and you were right there… If it had been anyone else the idea would have made you feel gross, somehow violated, but right now it just turned you on.

“Say it,” he murmured, his kisses moving away from your lips and down your jaw to your neck.

“Say what?”

“Say you want me.”

Again, you couldn’t stop the moan from escaping you. You were sure gonna have a hickey in the morning, but he felt good and he wanted you to tell him you wanted him… “I want you,” you whispered.

“Again.”

“I want you,” you repeated. “I want you to—” You broke off in a sigh as the hand that had been running over your thigh found your ass and squeezed.

“Want me to what?” he asked, still paying attention to your neck.

“I want you to touch me.”

He paused, and for a moment you thought you’d overstepped. Then he tilted his chin up to look at you, and smiled. He took the hem of your shirt between his fingers, not touching your skin, but close enough that you still got butterflies.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, then at your nod, pulled it swiftly over your head. “God, you’re hot,” he whispered, bending to pepper your chest with more kisses along the line of your bra.

“Gonna make me blush,” you laughed, but the joke was lost between the breathiness of your voice and the fact that you were, in fact, blushing. It wasn’t that he – or anyone else – had never paid you a compliment, but when he said it here, like that… well, your drenched panties could speak to its effect.

Minho’s hands were at the waistband of your pants now, and sweet Jesus you wanted him to just hurry up and touch you. You nodded frantically as he met your eyes in a question, and without further hesitation he slipped his fingers into your pants.

“You weren’t lying, huh?” he grinned. “You want me.”

“I want you to stop being such a tease,” you muttered.

He grinned wider. “Sure thing,” he said, his fingers brushing over your clit. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily.

“There,” you gasped, “right there.”

“Here?” Minho raised an eyebrow, his fingers circling the sensitive bundle of nerves again.

“Fuck you,” you half laughed, half panted, only to be cut off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately and if so where he’d learnt it, but who really cared when it felt so damn good?

“Please?” he whispered, watching your face carefully.

“Yeah, yeah whatever just— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that definitely made Minho blush, even as he smiled, when he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps.

“Like that?” he asked, as if your reaction wasn’t enough to tell him.

“How the fuck are you so good at this?” you asked. It was ridiculous, unfair. There really hadn’t been anything to learn from in the Maze, and this was the first time either of you had done this with anyone – that you could remember.

He frowned for a second, but (mercifully) didn’t stop. “I dunno. Am I really that good?”

It was your turn to grin. “Yeah,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he was that good. He was kissing your neck again, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip. He guided your movements as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

You could feel the hard, tight coil building in your stomach, your thighs and stomach already twitching as Minho’s fingers curled inside you. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, the little movement sending shockwaves of pleasure down to your toes, making your whole body spasm.

“Fuck, Minho,” you said as you came down from your high, still trembling. He’d stopped moving, his warm palm cupping your sensitive pussy gently. He was being really gentle with you, you reflected. It wasn’t that he was rough any other time, it was just not what you’d expected. It was nice.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Better than alright,” you whispered. “That was… really good.” You glanced down at his hand, now withdrawing from your pants covered in your wetness. Your gaze flicked up slightly to the now very noticeable bulge in his own pants, and you felt a bolt of heat go through you once more. “Can I…?” you trailed off, your fingers resting lightly just beside his zipper.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, already beginning to undo his belt buckle. “God, yeah.”

Minho’s eyes stayed on your face as you slid backwards off his lap, settling on your knees between his legs. You were careful and precise as you pulled his pants down, then his underwear. He was hard, you’d guessed that much, and it wasn’t that you’d never seen a dick before, but something about Minho’s dick made you hesitate. You weren’t really sure how this was supposed to go, and only knew that you wanted to touch him, and you wanted to make him feel as amazing as he’d made you feel just minutes before.

“Do I use my mouth?” you asked, then blushed. “Sorry, dumb question. Want me to use my mouth?”

“As long as you don’t bite me,” he joked.

You shrugged. “I’ll try,” you said, smiling up at him before taking his cock between your hands and lowering your head, placing a gentle kiss on the tip. You checked again, and at his nod, opened your mouth and slid as much of him as would fit into it. He cursed, his hand flying to your hair and his fingers tangling in it.

“You alright?” you asked, drawing back.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Don’t stop.”

You nodded, going down on him again. You were mindful of your teeth, instead using mostly your tongue and your hands where your mouth wouldn’t fit. You didn’t want to choke on him or, God forbid, make yourself sick on his dick. But the movements were easy, and Minho was guiding you. You let a moan escape you, which in turn made his hips jolt. You hummed again, and his hold on your hair tightened.

“God, you’re so good,” he whispered. “You look so good.”

That really made you moan, an embarrassingly desperate sound to accompany the embarrassingly desperate way your thighs rubbed together in search of any friction. This boy was driving you insane, and you were completely helpless.

You didn’t stop your increasingly messy sucking and licking, completely enraptured by the little breaths and gasps your attention was conjuring from Minho, revelling in his hand in your hair and the occasional curses or words of praise he let slip. You probably could have stayed there forever, listening to him forever, feeling his hot weight in your mouth forever, if he hadn’t brought his hand to your face and gently eased you off him. He surveyed your face carefully, running his thumb across your reddened and swollen lips.

“Hm?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. Were you doing something wrong? Did he want something else?

“If you kept that up I wouldn’t get to fuck like I want to,” he said softly.

Now it was your turn to be the teasing one. “And how’s that?” you asked, delicately licking your lips.

“On the couch, on your back, without your clothes.”

“Do I get a say in it?” you joked.

“Oh shit, sorry,” he said quickly. “If you don’t want to we don’t have to, it’s fine–”

“I was joking,” you cut him off, your cheeks flaming. “I want you to do whatever you damn well want to me.”

“Oh,” he said, his face equally as pink as your own. “Ok then.” Then he frowned. “We don’t have a condom.”

You cursed, rising from your kneeling position to glance around the shelves. It was a storage shed, right? Surely there’d have to be a first aid box somewhere. You spotted it next to a tub labelled “fire”, quickly crossing the room and rifling through it until you found what you were looking for. The packet was sealed, and while you didn’t exactly keep track of time how people used to, you had a feeling it was a bit past the expiry date. Still, semi-expired condom was better than no condom.

You threw it to Minho with a “catch!” before returning to your place next to the couch, reaching behind you to your bra clip. “If I take my clothes off will you take yours off?”

“It’s gonna be a bit hard to make this work through clothes.” He rolled his eyes, spinning the packaged condom between his fingers as he pulled his shirt over his head and quickly kicked off his pants. You gave yourself a moment just to look at him, to take in the perfectly formed muscles moving so smoothly under his smooth golden skin. The odd scar from various exploits did nothing to detract from how fucking gorgeous he was. Now you knew what people meant when they said someone had the body of a God, because that was the image Minho evoked in your mind.

“You’re so…” You trailed off, unsure how to say it without sounding corny. Then you shrugged. Who cared if it was corny when it was true? “You’re beautiful.”

Minho didn’t quite seem to know how to respond to that, he just laughed and ran a hand through his hair in a way that if you didn’t know better, you would have said was almost bashful. “So are you,” he said, meeting your eyes earnestly. Then he grinned, patting the couch next to him. “Come on, just get up here.”

“Ok,” you smiled. You stripped yourself of your remaining clothing, casting it carelessly aside and sliding down next to him. You nodded at the condom. “Do you know how to do that?”

He frowned. “Yeah.” He tore it open and put it on with a few fumbles and awkward joking (both from you and him), then looked at you and smiled as if to say “see? I got this, I know what I’m doing.”

“Good?” you asked, returning his smile.

“Good.” He kissed you again, holding your face gently in his warm hands. You grabbed his wrists, moving those hands down your jaw, your neck, your chest to rest on your breasts. He gave an experimental squeeze, and you hummed against his lips. Yes, that was good, that felt good.

You moved your own hands to his shoulders, pulling him with you as you tipped backwards to lie on your back, wrapping your legs around his waist. It took you a moment to get yourselves figured out and comfortable, but you finally settled with his hips slotted between your thighs, his arms propping him just above you. You could feel his hardness pressed against your still dripping centre, and you pulled him even closer, rocking your hips gently.

“(Y/N),” he whispered, his breath warm on your skin.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” you asked, still holding him close against you.

“I sure plan on it,” he grinned. He reached between your bodies to his dick, carefully lining it up at your entrance. He looked to you for permission, and at your nod, softly slid inside you. You both gasped at the feeling, the stretch and the warmth of it. It was like he was made for you, the way he fit.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulder.

“Alright?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Move,” you practically pleaded. He did, slow and steady as you got used to each other. Everything he did seemed to be so smooth, you reflected. Every little movement he made – whether it was walking, throwing you a roll of bread at dinner, and yes, fucking you – was so precise and even, perfect down to the last atom. It was the same easy grace that made him such an amazing runner, such an amazing athlete in general. Maybe in another life he could have even been a dancer.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, bending his head to deliver more sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your neck and chest. Yep, you were gonna have hickeys when he was done.

“You feel good,” you replied. Your breath was coming short, a light sheen of sweat gathering over your skin even though you weren’t the one doing all the work. You reached down, running a finger in tiny circles over your clit.

“I wanna hear you,” he said. “Stop tryna be quiet, we’re far enough away.”

“Shit, ok,” you replied. Something about his words really got to you, sending a bolt of heat shivering down your entire body. He was so unintentionally good at it – talking – it was obscene. Your own hand combined with the steady thrusting of his dick was almost too much, not to mention you were still sensitive from cumming on his hand earlier. You weren’t going to last long, and judging by Minho’s shuddering breaths and muttered curses, your name sprinkled throughout, neither was he.

“Fuck, (Y/N), oh my God,” he moaned, his hands balled into fists in the couch’s worn out fabric.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped as you felt the tightness coiling inside you, more, more, more– “Holy fuck, I’m gonna–” You released with a frantic cry of his name, your spine arching and your legs locking around his hips. You felt yourself contract around his dick, the stuttering of his strokes as he too reached his climax.

He slowed eventually, coming to a stop as the tremors receded from your body and your brain returned to your head. You were spent, content to lie there with his warm, comforting weight on top of you until the world stopped turning.

But alas, he pulled out of you after a minute and took off the condom, tying a neat knot in the end and placing it beside a screwed up piece of newspaper that had held the pieces of dried potato – Frypan’s miserable attempt at making chips – that you’d brought with you when you’d come up here hours ago. You’d hide it in the bin later.

He sat on the edge of the couch, hands folded neatly, elbows resting on his knees. He looked just as beautiful as ever, you thought, though slightly less sure of himself than usual. You supposed this was new, and neither of you really knew what you were supposed to do. But you wanted to touch him again, wanted to feel his skin on yours and hold him close.

“Are you just gonna lie there and stare at me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You were jerked back to the present moment, realising that maybe you had been staring. But it didn’t matter, if you got an opportunity you were going to take it.

“Maybe,” you replied, a smile playing about your lips. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to lie down with me.”

“It’s a small couch.”

“We’ve slept on it before, it works fine. Will you just…” You trailed off, exasperated by how needy the words sounded in your head. “Come here and hold me, hug me or something, just lie down beside me” was what you wanted to say. You wanted to grab him and pull him down next to you and wrap yourself around him like some kind of demented python. “Come here,” you said instead.

Minho only hesitated a moment longer, then smiled and slid onto the decaying cushions beside you, pulling the blanket – or rather, the three badly stitched together blankets that served as a quilt for you when it was cold – over you both. He wrapped his arms around you, his chest warm against your back.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted this,” he murmured.

You ran your hand down his arm, lacing your fingers with his own. “Did you?”

He nodded. “I’d be pretty happy to just stay here forever,” he said.

You laughed. “Maybe not forever…”

“Nah, forever.”

You bent your head, pressing a light kiss to his hand where it rested over your heart. “Ok, forever.” There were worse ways to cope with what you’d both been through, and if sleeping with Minho on the world’s shittiest couch was on the menu, that’d be what you’d choose.

#Maze Runner #the maze runner #minho maze runner #maze runner fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #fem!reader #minho x reader #tmr #tmr fanfiction #tmr fic #smut #maze runner smut

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