#I nearly spent all of my shifts this week crying | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

httpsserene · 5 months

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hey can I request something that’s angsty to fluff and then smut for Oscar where reader gets a ton of hate for dating Oscar so she kind of ghosts him for a bit and they figure things out

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰/𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar really just wants to hear you laugh again. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. angst. fluff. happy ending. reader is exhausted physically and mentally. reader's internal monologue is not not nice. bad eating habits. bad sleeping habit. self-deprecation. don't worry she's back on her bs at the end. reader neglects herself (?) and her relationship. implied self-sabotage. people are mean. don't worry oscar is meaner. oscar piastri is a good boyfriend. emotional hurt/comfort. tenderness. intimacy. baths and pampering. crying (non-sexy). implied sex. implied bath sex. logan and lando as plot devices. no beta we die like my will to live during finals. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot w/ blurbs. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best i ever had • drake

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: sorry it took me so long, i've changed this fic like multiple times :/ hope it fulfills you request properly :))) this is not my favorite thing in the world, i feel like if i went on a smaller scale i would've enjoyed this more but what can you do. this is also not very black reader coded? idk but feel like it's lacking there. i also apologize for my inability to write an oscar fic without including lando, he's such a willing plot device though even if he's a little ooc. i also couldn't find the mental space to write smut but there's smth for you at the end. dedicated to us women in stem! i hope you have fun reading this because i didn't have fun writing it :)

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oscar is worried. you haven’t responded to his texts for a week, he hasn’t seen your face for two weeks, and he hasn’t heard your voice for three weeks. four weeks ago, you told him you wouldn’t be able to fly out to see him at the austin grand prix, like you promised. you sounded exhausted and incredibly guilty when you explained that your course load this semester is extreme, and finals are rapidly approaching. oscar understood; he won’t ask you to sacrifice your education for one of his races, there will be plenty you can come to in the future. what he doesn’t understand is how you’re still functioning. it’s your senior year of university at an american ivy league school, you're pursuing an engineering degree, and you’re also working nearly five days a week as a barista. oscar thinks the last time he’s seen you relaxed is before your fall semester started, you spent your entire summer break with him, making appearances at the only three races you’ve been to this season (silverstone, hungary, and spa). the last time he recalls seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is in august—it’s the end of october now.

you’ve been ghosting him. oscar wants to believe that it’s unintentional, that it’s just a side effect of the amount of work and pressure on your shoulders—but he can’t accept that. if you were unintentionally missing his calls, facetimes, and texts, you’d spam respond to all of them with a voice message or paragraphs of texts before you went to bed or class. you would send him daily or weekly recap videos of how life is treating you, like you used to do. you would send him stupid videos of you messing around on your shifts during a pause of customers. you would send him thirty reels a day on instagram of brain dead shenanigans with little captions of how you reacted, or if you thought it would make him smile. you would send him fit checks every morning before you went to class, even though your outfit consists of a hoodie and sweatpants. you would send him tiktok edits of himself and tell him that he needs to stop being ‘so hot’ because you almost barked in the middle of class. you would ask him how he’s doing, you would respond to his texts the minute you could even if it's hours late, you would leave him voicemails if he doesn’t pick up, you would make an attempt to communicate.

except, you haven’t. so, he knows that you ignoring him is intentional, and that your lifestyle right now makes it easier for you to disguise your avoidance of him as accidental.

you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back.

“mate, what are you frowning for?” oscar jumps, eyes flying up from the phone screen and meeting lando’s. the brit is staring at him in confusion, the two of them are still in their race suits, tied around their waists. the sprint race ended an hour ago, and they’ve just finished celebrating oscar’s win.

“you’ve won a race, oscar—what could possibly make you sad after that?” lando says teasingly. but, the smile on his face is quick to fade as he must see oscar’s dejected mood.

the australian debates his next move for a moment, before deciding that telling lando isn’t a bad idea; they’ve been getting closer—they’re friends, oscar would say. he sighs, and hands his phone to lando, maybe he’ll tell oscar he’s worrying over nothing.

“oh,” lando says, eyes widening, “i’m sorry, mate.”

oscar brushes off lando’s words, and buries his face in his hands, “she’s pulling away from me. that was five days ago, and she hasn’t answered any of my calls. she’s only responded to my texts since then with one word answers or very dryly. she’s ghosting me.”

oscar feels lando fumbling for words, not needing to look at him to know that the older man has no idea how to go about reassuring oscar.

“look, mate, if it were me i’d go see her anyways.”

oscar huffs, “she literally said she doesn’t have time.”

“oscar,” lando stares at him in disbelief, “she hasn’t seen you in two months. i guarantee she’s probably dying to see you again, fuck whatever time she doesn’t have. she also can’t ghost you, if you see her face to face. you should go and try to fix whatever’s wrong, before you let her slip away.”

“maybe…maybe she’s just burnt out,” oscar suggests shakily, “i’ll go see her after the triple header–i’m probably just overreacting about this. she’ll be back to her usual self in time.”

oscar is enraged. he’s pissed off at his fans for attacking you in a sick twist of ‘defending him,’ ‘protecting him’ and the supposed ‘ownership’ they think they have over him. he’s pissed off at you deciding to ghost him instead of confiding in him about the hate you receive. he’s pissed off that his flight to you has been delayed for four hours. he’s pissed off at his race in brazil, if you can even call what happened a race. he’s pissed off at the fact that you can’t make time to see him before vegas. he’s pissed off that you lied to him about picking up extra shifts at the cafe.

he stalked through your instagram the minute after he was allowed to escape debrief, hunting down your roomates accounts from where you’ve tagged them in an older post. he innocently made a group message to the two girls, figuring it would be kind and proper to inform them of his impending arrival to surprise you. and the two girls you shared an apartment with responded eagerly to his message telling him that you’ve been extremely stressed and almost depressed this semester, and that hopefully his appearance will break through to you in a way they are unable to. oscar asked them if they knew your work schedule for the week, since you never told him when you're working–and learned that you lied. you didn’t accept any extra shifts, matter of fact, you got all of your shifts covered for the next two weeks. apparently, all you have been doing is going to class, working, studying furiously, and crying. when he asks if there’s any reason besides the stress from work and school that has you crying, the girls decline to speak for you, and strongly suggest that he asks you himself when he arrives.

oscar’s no longer pissed at you for lying to him or for ghosting him–he’s hurt, but, he already understands your motive. you don’t want to worry him, so you bottle it up and distance yourself to not make him aware of how you're struggling. he won’t let you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone anymore, he’s going to see you and he’s going to take care of you, and then he’ll sort out the ignorant people on the internet.

when he’s at your apartment, you’ll be coming home from your last shift before your time off. and then, once he has you in his arms, he can make everything right again.

your hands are shaking; a result from the mix of stress and exhaustion that has been plaguing you for a few weeks. it takes you four and a half attempts to unlock the front door to your apartment—this is an improvement, yesterday it took you six times. a trembling sigh of relief exits your lungs as you shut the front door, triple checking that you lock the door properly. you remove all of your outerwear and slip out of your shoes, half-heartedly making an attempt to neatly place them in the organizer you have by the door. (you fail to register how there’s only two pairs of shoes stored away; yours and a pair of shoes that look too big to be one of the girls you live with—the usual sneakers the girls wear are nowhere to be seen.) you grunt as you tenderly put on your backpack and slowly make your way into the kitchen, off-handedly murmuring a “hi,” in the direction of the living room since you can hear the tv playing, but you don’t even spare a glance to see which roommate it is—you can’t stomach anymore human interaction today.

your walk is more of a waddle; your legs and feet are sore from working nine-hour shifts five days in a row, and also from going to class four out of those five days. you place your backpack on the small island, and continue to gently meander towards the fridge. your stomach aches at the thought of food—which is unfortunate, considering you’ve only had one meal today. regardless, you will shove a sandwich down your throat, you need the energy if you’re going to study for three hours before you go to bed.

you pause before you open the fridge, a note is stuck on the door with a magnet. your roommates are gone; the two girls have spontaneously decided to go spend the weekend with their boyfriends—you’re not going to complain, you have the apartment to yourself. a brief wave of loneliness washes over you, you were kind of looking forward to venting about the week you had to the girls in the morning, and also, couldn’t they have texted you this earlier today? who leaves old-fashioned notes on the fridge anymore? you pull out your phone to send a text in your group chat wishing them a nice weekend, and see that they did, in fact, text you that they would be gone—three days ago. and, you never responded, because you never saw it. you shrug, and send the text anyways, you’ve been incredibly busy and you’re bound to miss a few texts (especially the eighteen texts from oscar that remain unopened).

you're just going through a little bit of a slump, and you’ve had a bad day. you accidentally messed up three orders today (out of the hundred you fulfilled, so three isn’t really terrible), your running off of four hours of sleep (you’re more energized when you sleep less, anyways), and a customer accidentally bumped into you as you were walking to bring coffee to a table, causing the hot liquid to spill and burn a little spot on the back of your hand by your thumb. well, you know it wasn’t purely accidental, as the girl giggled to the group of friends she was with after she “bumped” into you. based on the way she was wearing a mclaren hoodie, you can make several guesses as to why she did it—you’re kind of shocked that she noticed you even though you wear a mask at work (you have for about a month, too many fans have noticed who you are), her hate for a relationship that’s not hers should be studied for science.

incidents like these have made your coworkers start to…dislike you. the decrease in tips when you’re assigned to the register causes you to be forced to be hidden behind coffee machines the entire shift, only making drinks the entire nine hours you’re there. it’s better for you though, at least you can have a physical barrier blocking the prying eyes you feel are judging you the entire time. if anything, the recent atmosphere at work made you want to put in your two weeks—but, you have bills to pay. you’re just glad you managed to find a way to get two weeks off so you can focus on school and prepare for your exams—you can’t afford to fail, it’ll cost your scholarship and then you’ll need more than the job you have right now to finish school.

the buzzing of your phone pulls you back to the present—oscar’s calling. you squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, before you blink and silence the ringer. if you speak to him, you won’t be able to hide your troubles from him any longer; he reads you as easily as a kid’s picture book. he definitely doesn’t need to deal with your problems after whatever the hell happened in brazil. the noise of your phone startled you into a new thought, however. if the girls aren’t in the apartment, why the fuck is the tv on? who did you greet when you walked past the main room without a glance?

“i was calling to tell you that i’ve got takeout from the asian restaurant you like, if you’re looking for something to eat,” oscar says gently.

it’s a testament to how extremely exhausted you are: you don’t scream, you don’t fight, you don’t run—you just flinch slightly, and turn around slowly to face your boyfriend…the man you’ve been avoiding for nearly a month. at the sight of him (his fluffy hair, his soft sweater, the confused and concerned glint in his eyes) your lip starts quivering, and your eyes start watering. oscar’s gaze softens into something sweet yet empathic, and he says, “i know it’s been a while since we’ve last talked, but i didn’t think you’d cry at the sight of me.”

you burst into tears with a sob, and in a second oscar’s got you wrapped up in his arms, one hand soothingly massaging your back, while the other cradles your head on his shoulder. your borderline hyperventilating, your tears have started to soak his sweater, and you’re sniffling every two seconds to avoid getting snot on him too. oscar doesn’t try to quiet your tears, he doesn’t ask about what’s making you cry, he doesn’t even try to tell you that everything will be fine—he just holds you as you cry it out and presses kisses into your hair. eventually, the flow of tears dries and you focus on pulling in shaky breaths of air to calm down. oscar switches to holding you to his chest with one arm while he uses the free one to reach across the counter and grab a tissue. wordlessly, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks and under-eyes, he even uses another tissue to wipe your nose, clearing away the snot that managed to escape. you almost start crying again at the tender treatment and the matching look in his eyes, but you muster enough strength to keep the happy tears from falling over the waterline.

oscar nods once, deeming his cleanup complete, and clears his throat, “i’m going to heat up the food. then, we’ll eat and you’ll tell me what’s wrong and if that has anything to do with why you’re ignoring me.”

there’s no attempt from you to keep the façade up any longer, all you do is nod and step to the side so he can grab the food from the fridge.

oscar has already cleared his plate and you’re still picking through half of yours. the two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, teen wolf is playing on a low volume, and your eyes are tunneled on the screen even though oscar can see that you’re not paying attention at all. one of the characters is screaming about having to get his arm cut off (stiles, probably) and suddenly you start talking to oscar.

“it’s been a shit semester. if i wasn’t graduating in spring, i honestly think i would’ve dropped out or taken a gap-year. and, i knew what i signed up for as an engineering major, and i knew that working was only going to add more on my plate—but, it’s not like i can quit my job, i have bills to pay. so, juggling school and work is difficult, and i was managing fine. but, i guess i made the mistake of scrolling through twitter—which is truly my fault i think—and everyone on the internet was calling me a ‘terrible girlfriend’,” oscar watches you scoff out a choked laugh, “and, i obviously didn’t believe i was. in the beginning, at least. i mean, it’s like they expected me to be at every race by your side, like i’m not working my way through a hellscape of a degree. i watched every practice session, qualifying, and race—they’re literally the only hours i don’t spend studying or working. i brag about you to everybody who would listen, i missed hours of sleep just to speak to you on the phone for five minutes, i work as hard as i can so i can finish this degree early so i can be with you as early as possible, and they say that you deserve a better girlfriend.”

you pause and rub at your eyes furiously, mouth opening and closing as you take time to find the words to continue. oscar quiets the flare of anger at your distress, and stays silent, not wanting to interrupt your speech, this is the most you’ve said to him in a month.

“the thing is: i-i i let their words get to me. i think it’s because i was being kicked while i was down—or whatever the phrase is. i was already mentally exhausted, and i already believe that i’m not doing my best this year, i’m disappointing everybody who knows me, i’m a shit student—and just seeing everybody agree, even though they’re just randoms on the internet, tore me down. i even deleted all of the apps off my phone,” your voice has shifted into something desperate, “so i couldn’t see what they were saying about me anymore, but it’s like once i saw it, it never left my mind. i feel like everybody is staring at me with condescending eyes, like they all think i’m terrible. and, logically, i know that’s probably not true. but, this semester has pushed me past the point of being able to rationalize properly. so as a result, i have become a ‘terrible girlfriend’ to you; like a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

“i avoid your calls, i leave you on delivered for days, i respond with one word, i lie to my friends and say i was up all night talking to you on the phone when i was really crying and studying at the same time, i hold back from bursting into tears in the middle of my shifts when one of your ‘fangirls’ spills their drink over me for the third time. and while doing all of this, i was hoping you’d do the hard part and just break up with me,” your voice rings out sharply and you refuse to look at your boyfriend, afraid to see the look on his face.

“because…” you whimper slightly, tongue flicking out to lick at your lips anxiously, “you do deserve a better girlfriend.”

oscar is lost for words at your conclusion; seeing you, one of the strongest women he knows break down, is a sight he never imagined. a sense of guilt builds within him, knowing that he’s added to the deprecating thoughts in your brain by postponing this intervention for weeks. you may think that he deserves someone better, but he hasn’t been the best to you either recently. if oscar was half the man you think he is, he would’ve never allowed you to avoid him in the first place. oscar stands up, collects your plate and his, and places them on the coffee table. he turns and drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs, and squeezes them gently to grab your attention. it takes a minute, but eventually you allow your eyes to fall to meet his, and oscar breaks further at the lack of light in your eyes.

“i think,” oscar starts quietly, “that you expect me to break up with you and leave—am i guessing correctly?”

you blink down at him and shrug, biting your lip to prevent it from quivering.

“i also think, that if i flew all this way to see you, and that if i listened to your heartbreaking recollection of how this semester and how the world has been incredibly unkind to you, and that if i sat here and still broke up you—it’s not me that deserves a better girlfriend; it’s you that deserves a better boyfriend.”

stunned, you stumble over your disagreement, but oscar steadfastly continues.

“you did the right thing by deleting your socials—and that would explain why all three hundred of the reels i’ve sent you have gone unseen,” he laughs lightly, “and even if their words took root, you prevented yourself from being able to see more of it every time you used your phone; so even if my pride is not needed, i am proud of you for doing that. i’m even more proud that you sat here and told me that you aren’t doing well, that you didn’t make an attempt to lie, and that i didn’t have to force you to tell me,” oscar says seriously, holding steady eye contact with you to make sure you're hearing him.

“i wish that you would have mentioned the hate you’re receiving as soon as it started, and that you would have told me your mental health was suffering too. you know i do everything in my power to avoid reading anything with my name in it unless it’s a credible article—so imagine my surprise, when i learned about what people were saying about you through a twitter thread logan, of all people texted me about,” you snort out a laugh at the feigned disdain in oscar’s voice when he mentions the american driver.

“you know i have no issues embarrassing people on the internet for their incorrect claims—and i’d especially tear them to shreds for trying to drag you down. we’ve been together too long for you not to come to me about things like this, even if it’s something that mildly upsets you—i want to know, because then i can make it better, or i can at least try to. you haven’t complained to me about the grueling lifestyle once, as i worked my way up to f1; if anybody could be perfect, it would be you. so, let me try to be as perfect as you, and support you properly and thoroughly as you finish up this degree, baby.

“we’re soulmates, aren’t we?” it’s a question, but oscar states it like a fact, “and i know i can’t magically make the self-loathing disappear with one conversation, but i'll tell you that you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had countless times, until you believe me unquestionably.”

oscar watches your nose scrunch cutely as you sniffle, unable to stop the tears that leak from the corners of your eyes. sweetly, he catches them with his thumb before they fall. he stands up and tugs you to your feet, pulling you into a tight, warm hug.

“i love you, kanga,” oscar coos as he kisses your forehead.

“i love you the most, roo,” you answer back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“i’ve bought some lavender epsom salt and an embarrassing amount of bath bombs. will you let me take care of you tonight?” oscar asks quietly.

he sees the mix of awed-disbelief and confusion as you stare up at him, like you can’t imagine why he’d want to love you tenderly tonight, and that hurts him more—the words of his ‘fans’ online have done enough damage to cause you to doubt him. maybe he can convince you to come to vegas with him so he can keep you close, but first, he needs to focus on caring for you here and now.

oscar grabs his duffle bag and smiles as you hold his hand to lead him to your room and the attached bathroom (rent is ridiculously expensive, but at least you don’t have to share a bathroom with your roommates.) oscar sends you to grab pajamas while he starts filling the tub, epsom salt already poured in. he fiddles with the temperature for a while before it’s set to the boiling-your-skin-off hot you enjoy. by the time you join him in the bathroom, he’s added the salts and soap in the water and has placed the bath bombs out for you to choose one. oscar can’t help the small smile that rises to his face at the sight of the serious furrow of your brow as you pick out your favorite from the bunch.

oscar hums as you hand him the jade-infused bath bomb, and asks, “can i wash your hair too? or will it mess up your schedule?”

“i actually really need to wash it,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle, “i’ve been so busy that i haven’t been taking care of my hair properly.”

oscar blinks and continues non-judgmentally, “i’ll give you an extra scalp massage to make up for that—you can start getting undressed now, the water’s nearly ready.”

he turns around awkwardly, he’s seen you naked before but he feels like it would be slightly perverse to watch you while you’re clearly in a more sensitive state tonight. he fumbles with the faucet for a few seconds before turning it off, and drops the bath bomb into the water so it can start dispersing. oscar faces you again carefully making sure he avoids staring at your body and locks eyes with you, he beckons you forward with an outstretched hand and holds your hand as you submerge yourself in the water. once you’re settled comfortably, oscar grabs your hair products (he holds up any bottle he thinks you may not want to use tonight, and you give him a thumbs up or down to decide), and then kneels at your side.

he starts to roll up the sleeves of the hoodie but your hand halts his motions, the water splashing loudly at the quickness of your movement, “you’re not getting in with me?”

“uh,” oscar stutters, “i-i wasn’t planning on it. i just wanted to give you a nice bath.”

oscar pinkens as you stare at him wordlessly and when your unimpressed gaze shifts to a slight glare, he finds himself shedding his clothes and sinking in behind you at an impressive speed.

his heart began to race as the two of you shifted into as comfortable of a position you could achieve in a too-small tub, but calmed at your pleased hum as you settled between his legs with your back resting on his chest. this may be the most romantic experience oscar has ever indulged in. sure, it’s not a candlelit dinner at an obnoxiously expensive restaurant but, it’s him detangling your hair, it’s him massaging shampoo into your crown, it’s him scratching softly along your scalp as the deep conditioner sits, it’s you playing with the water innocently, it’s you whispering every detail of your life that he’s missed out on, it’s you gently directing him through braiding your hair, and it’s him pressing kisses to your shoulder when he finishes. there isn’t a single moment where the two of you become unsettled during lapses of silence; the intimacy of his actions is loud enough to fill the gaps. oscar can’t imagine ever being this comfortable with anybody besides you, he hates that he almost allowed you to pull completely away from him. moments like these, where you allow yourself to be thoughtlessly vulnerable with him, are exactly why he’s completely enamored with you.

your body has loosened against him, muscles syrupy and lax from the effects of a toe-curling scalp massage, and oscar gently guides you to sit upright while steadying most of your weight with a single hand splayed against your abdomen. the sound of the cap of your body wash clicking open startles you into the present, and you shift around to straddle his lap. it’s amusing; he inaudibly chuckles at the sight of you struggling to complete your change of position without sending water over the edge. you make a triumphant noise when you’ve managed to turn around to face him, and oscar’s hands cradle your hips when you rest on his lap.

“can i–”

“shouldn’t you–”

oscar bursts into laughter and you into giggles, at the interruption of each other's sentences. it’s definitely not that funny, but oscar’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your laugh–he hasn’t heard that sweet noise in what feels like forever. he motions for you to speak, ever the gentleman, and eagerly awaits for our question with a smile still stretched across his lips.

“shouldn’t you fuck me before we wash up? so we don’t have to clean up twice?”

oscar chokes on his breath, his grip on you tightening in surprise, and he babbles, “what? no-i mean, yes, i mean—wait. i didn’t do all of this just to have sex with you, you know that right? i genuinely just wanted to pamper you–”

“oscar,” you cut him off, intentionally this time around, “after the semester i’ve had, and the less than kind words i’ve heard and thoughts i’ve had describing myself–i really do appreciate the bath, i feel reminded that you love me. however, i really think that having sex would help…solidify your devotion for me.”

oscar blinks up at you, he wasn’t quite expecting you to return to your normal sassy behavior as quickly as you did. but, he is thankful that you’ve opened up to him with no further hesitation–it’s actually incredibly attractive of you, how you’ve resumed complete comfortability in expressing exactly what you want to him. at least, that’s the excuse he’s telling himself to cope with being half-hard already.

“...at least let me take you to bed, then?”

“no,” you whine down at him, your hips sneakily twitching forward, oscar moans lightly at the light grind, “too far! saves time later if we don’t have to come back to shower.”

“you’re right,” oscar hums distractedly, moving his right hand off your waist to slip between your thighs and brush along your cunt, “i’ll fuck you here as long as you let me do all of the work.”

oscar’s blood heats at the sound of your whimpering moan and he takes his other hand off your waist to grab at your chin and he pulls you down for a kiss.

oscar groans when you pause before your lips touch his, and he feels the breath of your giggle ghost over his mouth, “mmm, i’ll never say no to that—and, didn’t i agree to let you take care of me tonight?”

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

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ysrjune · 4 days

Text

Tell Me What You Want

pairing - scott monroe, sam monroe 🍒

summary - sam and scott are twins, both have a crush on you.

part 5! of tell me what you want

Scott stayed over at his friends house for a whole week. He had texted his parents that he was staying over, but not with a reason. He was old enough to make his own decisions, so they had only told him they loved him and to be safe. Scott explained the whole story to his friend, Ray. The poor boy cried his heart out to Ray after explaining it all. Scott was never the kind of guy to think being emotional was stupid or something to be ashamed of. Neither was Ray. “You'll find another girl, Scott. She doesn't deserve you.”

“Ray, you don't get it. I don't want somebody else! I want her. I've always wanted her.” He sniffled, making Ray sigh. He knew how much you meant to Scott no matter what you did to him. “Why don't you just talk to her, man. You've been ignoring her texts and calls all week.”, “Because I don't know what to say. Am I supposed to apologize? Expect her to apologize?”

“Why are you gonna apologize to her? You didn't do anything but love her. You only dated her for a couple of weeks, but I'm pretty sure you're the best boyfriend she's ever had.” Ray was right. You've dated guys behind your parents' back, but never lasted long because they were all jerks and only dated you because you're pretty.

Scott didn't reply to Ray. He just stared at the ground, mind blank. It's not like you were his only problem, either. He had to apologize to Sam. Even if what Sam did was fucked up, he tried to explain, and Scott didn't let him. Then again, he always forgave Sam for everything, especially when they were kids. “Scott?” Ray repeated his name for the 3rd time. “Huh?” His puffy eyes shifted to the boy.

“She's calling again. Are you gonna pick up this time?” Scott looked down to the ringing phone. He sighed and answered. “Hello?” He sounded so congested. You nearly think you're gonna have a heart attack just from hearing his voice again. “Bab—” He was quick to cut you off. “Scott,” Yeah, you really messed up.

“Scott,” you sighed. “Listen, you don't have to forgive me. I know what I did was wrong, and I should have told you. But I wanted you to know that I want you. You were the first boy to make every second count in our relationship. If you were on the phone while we were hanging out, you held my hand. You never stopped texting me throughout the day. You took me out almost everyday—you spent all your time with me. Dating or not. I know you probably don't want me anymore, but.. I'm sorry. You deserve the biggest apology ever.”

“I'm sorry too.” Sam's voice chimed in, making Scott a little taken back. “I'm your brother, I should act like it. I never meant to hurt you, Scott. I didn't know what I was doing. I'll never be able to forgive myself for what I did, but I hope you can. I don't wanna lose my brother's love and trust.” His voice cracked a little. It sounded like he was trying not to cry. “Please, Scott. I can't eat or even sleep knowing that you're this upset with me. I want my brother back.” It wasn't any form of lying or manipulation. You could tell Sam was genuinely sorry.

Scott was silent throughout the whole phone call. Not because he didn't want to answer, but because he didn't know what to say. He never ever received any apologies like this. Was he supposed to say it's okay? thank you? Absolutely clueless until Ray mouthed ‘thank you’ to Scott, helping him out. The blonde bit his lip and hesitantly answered.

“Thank you.” Then he hung up.

You and Sam look at each other, confused. “Um. Do you think he actually forgives us?” You ask Sam. “More like did he forgive us at all.” He sighed and turned on his back, grabbing a pillow and hugging it over his chest. “I think he needs more time. He'll come around eventually.”

“You dont know that.” You say, picking at your nails. “Kay, I dont wanna sound stuck up, but, like. I know he's gonna come back and accept our apology if he already didn't. Scott's a very forgiving person.” It did sound stuck up, but you trusted Sam's word. I mean, they're brothers. He would definitely know of Scott would forgive him or not.

Scott didn't come home until a week after your phone call. Sam told you not to come over either, so you waited even longer. You didn't even get any updates. However, you did hear yelling coming from next door. You could make out a few words, like “idiot” and “whore”. What if that was Scott saying that you're a whore? No, he would never.. you think.

2 days passed since Scott came back. You scrolled on social media to find that Scott had posted something on his story, but you didn't wanna open it too fast in case he has just barely posted it, so you decided to wait 15 minutes. God, those were the longest 15 minutes of your life, but once they were over, you clicked his story. It was a dumb photo of Sam side eyeing the camera with his smudged eyeliner and messy hair.

Okay, so things seem to be fine with them if both of them are in Sam's room. As long as they weren't fighting, you were happy. At this point, you couldn't think of reasons why Scott would forgive you. At least you didn't have them stop talking to each other for the rest of their lives.

Later on, Chris knocked at your door. He knew the whole story since the day after everything went down. Your brother was the only one keeping you sane right now. He offered to take you out to eat and to shop, which was super sweet. Did he think you were a slut? No, but was he disappointed? Yes. But no matter what, you're his little sister and will always be there for you.

He tried so hard to keep your mind off those boys and was successful, but only until he left. Today, he had news.

“Scott asked me if he could come over later. I'm gonna talk to Sam about Alyssa, and.. well, yknow. You're gonna talk to Scott.” Chris mumbled, holding your hand. He knew you were scared. What was Scott going to tell you? Was he officially gonna end things? You had no idea.

“Thank you, Chris.” He was confused. Why the hell were you thanking him? “For?” He asked, cracking your fingers. “For being there for me even when I was the one in the wrong.” Tears filled your eyes. He looked up at you and smiled, rolling his eyes. “Aw, come on. Don't cry, you dork.” He pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“You're my sister, I'm always gonna be there for you.”

Tears were shed.. mostly by you—and lots of affection was shared the whole time you thanked your brother. But then the time came around when Scott was coming over. You quickly fixed yourself up while Chris went to the door to get Scott and leave to talk to Sam.

The door opened, and your heart dropped. Scott looked.. good? For some reason, you expected him to look like he's had no sleep or whatever, but he looked normal. “Why?” He asked, standing at the door.

That simple question really said a lot. You bit your lip, not knowing exactly what to say. He sighed, looking out your door, then back to you and closing it. “You had so much to say over the phone, but now you dont wanna say a god damn thing?” His words were a little cold, but his voice was soft just like it always was.

“Angel, come on. You don't have to be scared to tell me what was goin’ on. Im asking you why.” The name he always called you gave a little bit of comfort. “I dont know, Scott, I'm sorry! I was stupid. I didn't think about what I was doing!” Your voice cracked, and tears started running down your rosy cheeks. Scott seemed a little frustrated that you were the one crying, but he didnt say anything.

“I just had a thing for Sam, I guess. After we..” You looked at him. You didn't even say you had sex with his brother, but obviously, he knew what you meant.. and he looked sad about it. “But when we were done, he said he was never gonna do it again. I'm pretty sure he was gonna ignore me afterward.”

“So do you like me, or do you like Sam.” He made eye contact. Seriously, was he not gonna cry? It embarrassed you that you were the one crying. “I like you, Scott. I love you. I realized I took you for granted before we were together. I realized how much you really liked me and how great of a boyfriend you are.”

“Do you mean that, or are you just saying it so I'll forgive you.” How could he even say that, of course you meant it! “Scott, I mean it. I regret doing that to you.” He came closer, standing in front of you while you were sitting on your bed. “Okay, I forgive you.” He crossed his arms, sighing. “Do you wanna give this another try? I mean. I still have feelings for you, baby. Nothing will change that.”

Wow, he really was a forgiving person. It surprising he was giving you a second chance, and who would you be to say no. “Yes. I wanna try again.” You nodded, looking up at him. Those eyes he loved so much. Even though your eyes were red and puffy, they were still mesmerizing to him. “Well, I shouldn't have put it like that, I guess. We never broke up in the first place. So think of it as we're not in a tight spot anymore.”

You nod as he fell to his knees, now pretty much the same height as you. “You gotta promise you'll never do some dumb shit like that again. Not to me, not to any other guy if we really do end up breaking up eventually.” You nod. “Will you stop nodding at me and use your words, please?” His hands rested on your thighs. You wanted to nod again but didn't. “I won't do it again, Scott. I won't ever be stupid like that again.”

“Good.” His hands left your thighs so that he could wrap his arms around your chest. You slide a little to reach him and hug him over the shoulders. You buried your face in his neck, kissing it gently. “I missed you, Scotty.”

“I missed you too.” He rubbed your back and pulled back to see your face. “Can I kiss y—” You didn't let him finish that question. As soon as you heard kiss, you went for it. It was slow and passionate. It turned into a little bit of a makeout, but hey! who were you to complain.

Afterward, he wiped your cheek with his thumb and smiled. “You taste good.” He let out a little chuckle. “Like cherries.” You smile back, digging your hand into his blonde hair. “It's the chapstick you bought me a few weeks ago, remember. You said you liked cherries and wanted my lips to taste like them everytime we kiss.”

“Bold of you for assuming we'd kiss tonight.” He pinched your cheek. “Yeah, well, it was definitely an assumption.”

Hours went by while you two really got deeper into the whole thing. He told you that he was anxious about even coming over to talk to you and that he was actually just gonna end up breaking up with you after you gave him an explanation. But of course, he didn't, and also told you why.

More kisses were shared, along with hugs. “I love you, angel.” he whispered into your ear as you fell asleep in his arms.

It took the rest of the summer to even get a little more comfortable around both boys, but it happened. School started up again, so you didn't get to see Scott all day, but once you got home, he was outside your porch.

God, telling your parents that you were dating Scott sent them to another planet, but at least it was Scott! If it was anyone else, your dad probably would've threatened to shoot them. Sam liked to keep his distance from you, which was understandable. But that didn't mean he was gonna stop saying hi when he saw you, or give a hug here and there when you came over.

Scott was such a good boyfriend, indeed. Taking you out almost every day to hang out just to eat. When you were just friends, he got along with your parents just well, but now that he was over more, his dad LOVED him.. mostly cause Scott would actually pay attention to your dad's nonsense and genuinely enjoy it.

“I dont know how you dont tell him to shut up and leave.” You say, combing his hair while he laid in between your thighs. “I dont know how you do! He tells me all these things from when he was in high school and stuff. I like hearing about it.” He shrugged. “Mm.” You hum. He smirked and turned himself around, burying his face in your clothed crotch.

This made you a little nervous since, well, the last time he's ever touched you was THAT day. “Scott, what are you doing..” You asked, hips bucking when he rubbed his thumb up and down on your crotch. “Nothing. Can I not touch my girlfriend? Make her feel good?” He bit his lip, making eye contact.

Yeah, this was going somewhere good cause you being all nervous and shy turned him on real bad and ended up with him eating your pussy and fingering you. At least he was being slow and gentle. Your parents were home, too, so the risk excited him a little more.

And of course! he fucked you, too! he even recorded it.

Scott Monroe is the best boyfriend you could ask for. He always knows what to say when you're sad, what to do when you're mad, and how to just keep you happy. He loved you so much. He was already fantasizing about marrying you after 3 years of staying together. Yeah, you both were still young, but he was never gonna let you leave him..

I KNOW YALL HATE ME UGHH IM SORRY I JUST COULDNT DO DATING BOTH @ THE SAME TIME CAUSE THEN IT'D END UP IN MORE PARTS AND IM LAZY 4 THAT 💔 anyway erm!! the part where hes like ermm eating you out I was lwk thinking of it being like this (8:46 — 19:33) but jajaaj anyways tell me what you want is FINISHED 😈😈😈

@heartsforanakin @sockiess @anakinstwinklebunny 🎀

#hayden christensen #sam monroe #life as a house #scott barringer #sam monroe x you #sam monroe x reader #scott barringer imagine #scott barringer x reader #higher ground #scott barringer x you

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writeforfandoms · 6 months

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Well, here we are. The end of this little series. This took me a lot longer to finish than I originally planned, and I apologize for that. I hope the tooth rotting fluff makes up for it.

Warnings: Fluff, cavity inducing sweetness, Feels, idiots in love, piv sex, dirty talk, and they lived happily ever after.

Word count: 4.6k

Soap and Ghost made it back to the 141 safely, and Price congratulated them on a job well done.

Life moved on. There was always another op.

But Soap kept thinking back to that op. To their little waitress.

And she most certainly was theirs, now. Just thinking about the way she'd whimpered under him was enough to get Soap riled up.

Soap texted her as often as he could, which was almost daily. Ghost, he knew, didn't text nearly as much.

But when he did… well. When Ghost wanted to, he was a right bastard.

Like the time he sent their waitress an audio recording of the two of them. That was well worth it.

Of course, it wasn't just audio recordings and the occasional video call.

Soap managed to detour to see their waitress for half a day on the way back from an op. Ghost, lucky bastard, had an entirely accidental two day layover, most of which was spent in her bed. And that wasn't all of it - the two found themselves stopping by to see her as often as possible.

It wasn't until Soap and Ghost had leave together and arranged to go see her again for a whole week that either of them thought more of it.

"Hey, Si?"

Simon grunted, cracking open one eye above his plain medical mask. That was the more plane-friendly look.

"Think we're a bit looney."

Simon barked a laugh, closing his eyes again. "Just now figuring that out?" He drawled, amused.

Johnny huffed with quiet laughter. "Maybe," he admitted. Simon's lack of distress helped put him at ease, though.

Soon, they'd be off the plane. And then they could surprise their pretty little waitress.

They had a lot of ideas they wanted to try out, after all.

–

You'd had an awful day. An opening shift rife with assholes and a few too many pinches. You were tired, achey, aggravated.

Honestly, you wanted to go home and cry and ignore the rest of the world for a while.

So when your phone rang, you almost ignored it without even checking it. Almost.

“Johnny?” you scrambled to answer it as soon as you saw who was calling. “What’s up?”

“Got a bit of a surprise for ye, gorgeous.” Johnny sounded far too pleased.

“Yeah?” You dodged an idiot who wasn’t watching where he was going, huffing softly. “And what’s that?”

“You at home?”

You didn’t quite startle at the question, but you did pause. “Not yet,” you said slowly. “Heading there, though. What did you do?”

Johnny laughed. “So little faith! It’s a good thing, promise.”

You shook your head. “Alright, if you say so. Do I need to check my mailbox or something?”

“Not exactly,” he hedged. “Ye’ll see soon, promise.”

You sighed but gave up. “Alright, sure. I need to go, it’s crowded out here today.”

“Okay. Get home safe.” Johnny paused there for a moment, like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

“Will do,” you agreed and hung up. A little abrupt, maybe, but you were tired. You didn’t have your normal energy for his silliness.

The walk home was too loud and too crowded, with people jostling into you. You were so tired and so done you wanted to cry by the time you finally got into the elevator.

The elevator opened onto your floor and you got three trudging steps off before you halted.

Johnny and Simon stood outside your door, facing you. Johnny was grinning, bright and a little mischievous.

You didn't let them say anything. You just walked straight into Johnny, winding your arms around him and hiding your face against his chest.

"Hey, gorgeous," Johnny cooed, one big hand rubbing your back soothingly. "Happy to see us?"

"Yeah," you agreed softly. "Also fucking tired."

"Long day?" His voice softened with sympathy.

Your laugh was dry and a little too close to tears. "Could say that."

Johnny hummed in wordless concern, holding you closer and pressing his cheek to the top of your head. "Poor gorgeous," he murmured. "C'mon, let's head inside, aye?"

You breathed in deep and let go of him, grabbing your keys. Simon plucked them from you, and you blinked. But moments later you were all inside.

Simon guided you to the couch and pushed you down to sit. You blinked at him, startled. He just motioned you to wait while he brought water.

"What's goin' on?" Johnny dropped down next to you, pulling you into his side with an arm around your shoulders.

You blew out a breath, shoulders dropping. "Just life stuff," you dismissed, or tried to. "Nothing like your shit." They'd told you some, a little, mostly that they were military and had unpredictable schedules. You didn't blame them, not at all, and it explained the odd absences.

"Tell us anyway." Johnny gave you a gentle little shake, eyes warm and focused on you.

Simon dropped down on your other side, setting water on the table in front of you, leaving you nowhere to run. Of course. These two were practiced, moving in an easy tandem in and out of the bedroom. Which they often used against you. Like right now.

You huffed, half exasperated and half amused. "Just. Work sucked today. Few too many shitty people."

"And?" Simon drawled, knowing that wasn't the end of it. You'd ranted to him about work and handsy guys before.

"And my rent is going up," you finally admitted on a sigh. "It's just enough that I'm thinking of moving or downgrading."

Johnny hummed soft sympathy, pulling you closer. "Job hunt hasn't turned up anything?"

"Not yet." You made a face. "It's just frustrating, that's all. I'll get through it."

"We'll come back to that." Johnny pressed a kiss to the side of your head, easy and affectionate as ever. "What's yer schedule, gorgeous?"

You blinked, thrown off a bit by the question. "Tomorrow I'm off, the next two days I have closing shifts, then two mid shifts, then two more days off," you said after a moment of thought. "Not sure beyond that. Why?"

"Well, we've got a week," Johnny said, grinning at you. "Was hopin' to spend a good bit of that with ye."

"You… are far too sweet." You smiled, relaxing between the two of them. "Next you're gonna say you've got a better idea about my job and apartment situation."

Silence. Damning silence. You turned slowly to look at Johnny, who was busy looking anywhere but you. Simon scoffed softly.

"You'd think he'd have learned to lie by now," Simon added conversationally, one big hand landing on your thigh.

"Ah can lie!" Johnny immediately defended himself. "Just. Not to. Well. The two o' ye."

Your heart swelled at being so blatantly lumped in with Simon, your shock plain to see. Oh, sure, you knew these two liked you - they kept visiting you, after all.

But this was something totally different.

"Nope," you decided. "We are tabling that because I cannot be a rational person right now."

Simon leaned closer to your back, his bulk bleeding warmth into the scant space between you. "Don't be rational, then," he murmured. "What're you thinking, dove?"

"Very non-feminist thoughts," you drawled, shivering briefly as Simon pressed even closer.

"Tell us." Simon scooted forward, slowly but inexorably pressing you closer to Johnny, who looked more than willing.

You groaned softly. Simon had a way of getting you to admit to things you wouldn't otherwise, something you both loved and hated. "Really?"

"Be a good girl for me." He was so close now you could feel his mask just brush the shell of your ear.

"Not fair," you complained weakly, swallowing hard. But Simon squeezed your thigh and you folded. "I was thinking I'd let you both whisk me away anywhere you wanted." You ducked your head to hide in Johnny's chest, flustered.

"There's our sweet girl," Johnny cooed, immediately pulling you closer, until you were sort of situated on his lap.

"We'll discuss that tomorrow," Simon murmured, pressing in against your back again until you were sandwiched in warmth. "We have time."

You huffed but didn't object, just relaxing between them. You were warm, you were tired, and they were very comforting. Honestly, you were tempted to just sleep between them.

"Have you eaten yet?" Simon asked, thumb rubbing your thigh slowly.

"No," you admitted, grumpy because you knew that meant he'd move.

Simon huffed a little laugh. At your attitude, undoubtedly. "We'll take care of dinner," he assured you. "You want anything in particular?"

"Don't really care," you admitted, covering his hand with yours to link your fingers through his.

"Don't fall asleep on us yet, gorgeous," Johnny huffed with amusement.

"Shut up," you grumbled, nestling in closer and relaxing. "Comfortable."

They both laughed quietly, but neither of them moved, letting you soak in the comfort you so needed.

If they kept this up, you'd do anything for them.

Finally, you released them both and squirmed away, because otherwise you really would fall asleep. And that would be bad.

Simon took charge of dinner, as promised, and you didn't have to do a thing. Johnny "helped" you change into more comfortable clothes (here meaning he shamelessly ogled you and got a little hands-on but you didn't let him totally derail you).

Simon even folded his mask up just over his nose to eat with you and Johnny, which was still new enough to be thrilling, even though it wasn't the first time.

It was very comfortable, being so domestic with them. It really was strange - you hadn't known them long, not in the overall scheme of things, but you were so comfortable with them.

Sometimes you wondered about impossible things. Dinners at dining tables and breakfasts in bed and exhausting yourself with the two of them.

"Gorgeous?" Johnny touched your hand, frowning a little.

You blinked rapidly and looked at him. "Hm?"

"Where'd ye go?" He gently closed his fingers over your hand, ducking his head a little to hold your gaze.

You smiled and shook your head. "Just thinking. Sorry. Been a long day."

The two exchanged a quick look, a world of communication in that one look. It almost made you ache to think about how long they'd been together, to have such wordless communication.

"Do ye want us here tonight?" Johnny asked, squeezing your hand gently. "Or should we go back to our hotel?"

"Stay." Your heart lurched. You'd blurted that out too fast, too earnest. Revealed too much.

But Johnny just grinned, like he'd been hoping for that. Even Simon quirked a half smile.

"Good!" Johnny leaned close to smack an intentionally loud kiss to your cheek, just to make you laugh. "Wanna watch a movie?"

And back you settled into the simple domestic bliss, letting them squish you between them on your couch, laughing at their antics, comforted by their warmth. Neither one made a move for more, both accepting easy kisses from you.

It didn't occur to you until you were settled in bed between them, Johnny already clinging to your front while Simon curled like a shield between your back and the rest of the world, that you'd do anything to keep this.

Simon was already up when you woke, Johnny taking a well-deserved lie-in with you. Breakfast was easy, relaxed.

But you remembered the promise to talk about your current situation today. Honestly, you'd rather get it over with sooner than later, or your anxiety would be out of control.

"So," you started as you washed the dishes. Johnny was drying while Simon put everything away. (And the fact that he knew without having to ask inspired feelings that you tucked away to be examined later.) "Sounded like you two had a plan for dealing with my woes."

Johnny snorted. "Something like that," he agreed.

"Had an idea," Simon corrected without looking at either of you.

"Alright, let's hear it." You glanced at them both, undeniably curious.

Johnny breathed in slowly. "Well," he started slowly. "Was thinkin' we could help ye find a place. Closer to us. If ye wanted."

"Closer to you?" You looked between the two, the dish in your hands all but forgotten. "Like, England?"

"If you want." Simon spoke quietly, finally looking at you, gaze assessing.

You nodded slowly, letting the idea sit as you scrubbed at a pan. That would be a big move for you. Very different. You didn't even know if you'd be able to find a job there, or how you'd find a job. How expensive would it be to move?

Although, really, considering how you felt about these two… maybe it was time to have another talk, too.

"I have questions first."

"'Course," Johnny murmured, his foot nudging into yours as he looked at you earnestly.

You licked your lips, debating how to proceed. Because, really, you were pretty sure you could figure out the rest of it, depending on one factor.

"Why?" You handed off the pan to Johnny and grabbed an extra towel to dry your hands. "Is this just, like, a convenience thing for you two? Or is this something more?"

Johnny blew out a breath. "Cut right to the heart of things," he muttered, a little wry. "It's not for convenience."

You didn't move, still watching him, towel held tightly in your hands, all but forgotten. "Johnny, please."

Johnny dropped his head for a moment before glancing at Simon. Simon shook his head a little, just once. Johnny swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, and then nodded.

"Truth is, gorgeous, we wanna see ye more. All the time, if we could. We like ye. More'n we should, prob'ly. And…"

You breathed in slowly, leaning closer to him. "Johnny."

He blinked at you, setting the pan down.

"You're absolutely daft if you think I'd have let you both keep coming back if I didn't care for you deeply already." You quirked a little smile, the words coming easier now that you'd seen him near fumbling his own words.

Johnny blinked and slowly lit up, stepping right into your space. "Yeah?"

"Yes," you confirmed, amused. "Honestly. Simon knew, didn't you?"

But when you looked at him, Simon simply looked away.

You blinked, flabbergasted, jaw dropping. And then you started laughing, completely unable to stop yourself. At the near-twin disgruntled looks, you flapped a hand, trying to stifle your laughter long enough to explain.

"I've been completely gone on you two for months," you managed. "And none of us was smart enough to know it." You promptly devolved again, hand over your mouth.

They both froze completely, going quite still. Then Johnny grabbed you with a laugh, yanking your hands away from your face to kiss you thoroughly. No sooner had he released you than Simon grabbed you, mask pulled up so he could kiss the breath out of you.

Panting, you finally pulled away from him too, looking at the both of them as the enormity of what you'd said and how they'd reacted hit you.

Clearly you weren't the only one attached here.

You curled a hand into Simon's shirt, your free hand taking Johnny's wrist as you towed them both to the couch. (Only because they let you but you'd take it.)

"Tell me more about your idea." You pushed Simon down to sit on the couch and settled yourself in his lap, knees on either side of his hips. Johnny pressed up against your back, hands at your hips.

"We'd help ye find a job," Johnny murmured into your ear, squeezing your hips. "Get ye all settled."

"Doesn't have to be a flat," Simon rumbled, hands big and warm on your sides, thumbs rubbing the skin just under your breasts.

"Could do a house," Johnny agreed immediately, nipping the shell of your ear. "Big enough for the three of us."

You sucked in a breath, biting your lip. Oh now that was temptation. "Somewhere to stay during your time off?" You rolled your hips down into Simon's lap and grinned when his grip immediately tightened on you.

"And someone to come home to." Johnny bit your neck gently, humming in satisfaction at your little noise.

"Fuck." You rolled your hips again, biting your lip. "If you're not serious about this–"

"We are." Simon bumped his hips up into yours, letting you feel the growing hardness there. "Very serious."

"Give us the word, and we'll do it." Johnny nipped down your neck to your shoulder, hands still on your hips moving you to a slow, steady rhythm against Simon.

You shuddered, grinding down harder. "Let's do it," you agreed, a little breathless. "Please."

Johnny groaned softly and pressed you down harder into Simon, biting down gently on the back of your shoulder. Simon rucked your sleep shirt up and quickly pulled it off, his hands settling against your skin.

Any other time, you might tease them about how fast clothes vanished, but right now? You didn’t say a word. Partially because Johnny had tipped your head back to kiss you while Simon took over guiding your hips against his, the feeling more intense now without barriers between you two.

“Johnny,” Simon grunted, fingers tightening.

Johnny hummed into the kiss before he pulled back, eyes already gone dark with desire. “Mm?”

“Duffel bag,” was all Simon said, but Johnny seemed to understand, because he disentangled himself and stepped away.

“Really?” you half-whined, pouting at Simon. You’d been enjoying being between the two of them, dammit.

Simon had the gall to chuckle at you, one hand cupping your cheek and bringing you closer. “Just getting some supplies,” he murmured, soft and soothing. “Won’t take him a minute, dove.”

He was proven right by Johnny coming up behind you again, pressing his front to your back and dropping a condom into Simon’s hand. You warmed and ducked your head, a little embarrassed you’d forgotten about that.

“C’mere, gorgeous,” Johnny cooed in your ear, arms wrapping tight around your waist and pulling you back into his warmth. And subsequently giving Simon the space he needed to put on the condom. “Gonna let me fuck ye after, gorgeous?”

“You want to?” You didn’t look away from Simon, though, watching his hands settle on your thighs.

“Oh, aye,” Johnny agreed, low and rough. “Very much.”

You hummed softly, running your fingers over his arm still around your waist. “After, then.”

Johnny nipped the back of your shoulder and moved the two of you forward, guiding your hips up. Simon simply watched, one big hand on your thigh.

“Ready for me, dove?” Simon watched you closely, fingers rubbing against your skin.

“More than.” You started to sink down slowly, only for Johnny to tsk and guide you, controlling the pace. You swallowed hard, not entirely sure why that was so exciting… but it very much was.

“Look at you, gorgeous,” Johnny murmured once you were settled fully against Simon’s lap, hands clenched on his shoulders. “So pretty for us.”

You huffed softly at him, wiggling a little, getting used to the stretch of Simon in you. His hands smoothed up your sides to your breasts, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your nipples.

When you moved, Johnny quickly took control again, hands moving you to a rhythm he liked. Simon seemed content to let Johnny move you, head tilted back against the couch as he watched you with dark eyes, still gently teasing you. Heat built between the three of you, and you tipped your head back onto Johnny’s shoulder.

“Johnny…” You whined, just a little, trying to move faster. Johnny didn’t allow you.

“Hm? Somethin’ ye want, gorgeous?” he teased, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

“More? Please?” Your breath caught in your throat when he bit down gently, hands tightening on you.

“What d’ye think, Si?” Johnny asked, low and teasing. “Think she’s earned it?”

“Johnny,” Simon growled, hips finally stuttering up into yours, “if you don’t, I will. And I’ll keep her.”

Johnny laughed quietly but moved you faster, until you were gasping and shivering between the two. Your hands roamed restlessly over Simon, trying to make him feel as good as you felt. Your thighs trembled, back arching.

A second set of hands joined Johnny’s at your hips, their fingers intertwining, before Simon tightened his grip and held you still. You lifted your head, confused, only for him to lift his hips up into you instead. Your lips parted, jaw dropping, eyes going hazy with pleasure.

“C’mon, gorgeous,” Johnny goaded softly in your ear. “Make a mess of him for me.”

A few more hard thrusts from Simon and you did just that, whimpering through the rolling pleasure of your orgasm.

Simon didn’t even slow down, fingers tight on your hips, chasing his own pleasure now. Your overstimulated whines only spurred him on until you leaned forward, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

And bit down.

He swore as he came, hips stuttering, grip almost punishingly tight. He finally stilled against you, grip slowly relaxing.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” Johnny murmured, carefully moving one hand to rub a hand up and down your back. “Both of ye.”

You huffed against Simon’s neck, an action he mirrored. You grinned, amused, and relaxed between the two for the moment.

“Still alright, gorgeous?” Johnny asked after a few moments, hand lingering at the nape of your neck.

“Haven’t forgotten you,” you assured him, sitting up again, despite the way your legs shook. “How do you…?”

Simon hummed softly, moving slowly to give you time to move with him. He situated himself longways on the couch, your knees on either side of him, one of his legs on the floor to make more room.

“I’ve got you, dove,” he murmured, taking hold of your hands and linking your fingers together. The couch dipped behind you as Johnny moved too, giving your back one more soothing stroke before there was a rip of foil.

“Could get used to this,” Johnny murmured, only half-teasing, pressing against your back. “Quite a view from here.”

“I’m sure you’ll get to see more like it,” you agreed. “After we figure out the move.”

Johnny groaned softly at the reminder. “Fuckin’ temptress, you are,” he muttered, one hand on your hip holding you steady as he slid into you. He wasn’t quite the same stretch as Simon, but he still felt divine.

He didn’t give you slow, though. He started moving hard, startling a little yelp out of you.

“Easy, dove,” Simon murmured, sweet in contrast to Johnny. “Hold on to me, yeah?”

You could do nothing but obey, holding tight to Simon’s hands even as Johnny slid one hand up to your back to the nape of your neck, gently pushing you down until your chest pressed to Simon’s.

“Doin’ so well, dove,” Simon rumbled, squeezing your hands gently. “He feel good?”

“Yes,” you managed on a gasp, as Johnny drove harder into you, hitting somehow deeper. “Fuck!”

Johnny groaned, hand squeezing your nape. “Beautiful,” he muttered again, almost worshipful. “What d’ye need, gorgeous?”

You nearly choked when Johnny did something that hit a spot that sent sparks all through you. And then he hit it again. And again. Until you needed Simon’s support, moving as best you could with Johnny, making too many noises. Johnny was little better behind you, swearing softly but vehemently.

“Close, dove?” Simon asked, eyes bright as he watched you. “Need a little more, hm?” He released one hand, sliding it down between the two of you. Two gentle fingers circled your clit and you whined, shaking. “Good fucking girl.”

You were gone. That was all it took. You shook apart between the two of them, briefly unaware of anything beyond the burning, rolling pleasure.

You slumped fully against Simon, panting, shivering still. Johnny followed close behind you, muffling his whines against the back of your shoulder, hips pressed flush to yours. He didn’t back off when he was done, staying pressed against you so the three of you were a sweaty heap.

“Up, Johnny,” Simon finally ordered, both hands now soothing up and down your sides.

Johnny groaned theatrically but got up, pressing one last kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Think you can get up?” Simon asked softly. “Or do you need a minute longer?”

You puffed out your cheeks. “Let’s find out.” You stood carefully, letting him hold one of your hands to help keep you steady. Your knees wobbled but held, at least long enough to get you to the bathroom.

Simon herded you back to bed, where water waited for all three of you, a laptop already set up with a movie. You smiled, both touched and amused at his thoughtfulness.

“I vote we do nothing the rest of the day,” you muttered, crawling into bed.

“Nothing?” Johnny asked, moving over you to box you between himself and Simon. “At all?” He pouted at you, over the top.

“Well, maybe a little something,” you gave in with an easy grin, cuddling between the two of them. “After we’ve rehydrated a bit.”

“Smart woman.” Simon settled against you, relaxed. “We’ve still got days, dove.”

The reminder made you smile, an entirely different kind of warmth bubbling away in your chest. “Yes, we do.”

–

Johnny stood at the end of the terminal, anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot. Next to him, Simon was still as stone, gaze fixed on the steady flow of people coming out of the terminal.

Johnny checked his phone again, unable to help himself. It had been two whole minutes since he'd last checked. Still no new update from you.

Not that he was entirely surprised. You'd had a long flight, had to gather your things.

Well. Some of your things. The rest were being shipped, something Simon had arranged and paid for over your half-hearted protests.

Finally, finally, he spotted you walking towards them. You were clearly tired, dressed down, looking a little limp.

And you were still one of the lost gorgeous things he'd ever seen.

Johnny pounced as soon as you were past the last gate, picking you up in his arms and swinging you around in a hug. You yelped and laughed, clinging to him just as hard.

"Hi," you said, a little breathless, grinning up at him.

"Hi yerself." Johnny finally set you back on your feet, though he didn't release you yet.

"Flight alright?" Simon asked, putting a gentle hand against your back.

"Long and boring." You shrugged, poking Johnny until he released you so you could turn to hug Simon instead. Johnny's heart melted at the sight of you wrapped up in Simon's arms.

"You're home now," Simon murmured, almost too quiet for even Johnny to catch.

Johnny did melt at that, throwing himself into the hug and making you laugh, a little watery.

"Almost," you murmured, squeezing both of them. "Come on, I'm eager to get out of here. I didn't sleep a wink."

That was all it took for Johnny to take your backpack, Simon taking charge of your luggage, both ignoring your spluttering protests with aplomb. They loaded up the car (Simon's) and Johnny let you have the front seat.

The house they'd chosen was out of the way, at the end of a quiet neighborhood, with plenty of garden space.

And a huge master bedroom.

Simon parked, and you blinked awake again. Johnny had to resist the urge to cook at how cute you looked. He hopped out first and opened your door for you, eager to bring you inside. Simon brought your things in, letting Johnny unlock the door and usher you in.

Johnny watched with an overfull heart as you turned a slow circle, eyes huge as you looked around.

"Welcome home, sweetheart." Simon and Johnny squished you between them, trading off kissing you.

They had all the time in the world now.

#listening in #f!reader #johnny “soap” mactavish x you #simon “ghost” riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x johnny “soap” mactavish x you #simon “ghost” riley x johnny “soap” mactavish x reader

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mrscarmenbearzatto · 25 days

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promise me? | carmen berzatto

rating: | cw: mentions of mikey’s death/funeral, a few timeskips, afab/fem!reader, angst/fluff content, unfinished ending i guess (i’m so down to write a part two if yall ask for it tbh)

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request: “a more angsty idea would be that reader was dating Michael and no one knew she was pregnant when he died… so in order to avoid making their family sad/starting conflict, carmy agrees to pretend that they’re dating and it’s his kid? “

Since the funeral four months ago, your world had felt.. emptier.

Michael Berzatto was your everything. He was the boy in high school who threw rocks at your window, who climbed inside to make out with you on your bed until he fell asleep holding you close, only sneaking out to avoid your parents learning about his visits.

He was the guy who would make a big deal out of every small accomplishment. He was the person who you planned on spending the rest of your life with.

That was until everything happened. One phone call from the Chicago Police Department, and your entire view of the future had been shifted. There was one less person in it.

You didn’t talk to his family much anymore. His younger brother, Carmen, was the only person you really kept in touch with. You called Sugar every so often, and you’d send Donna a check-in text every week or so.

You knew Carmy was in New York, and he hadn’t come to the funeral. You weren’t expecting to see him again until he showed up on your doorstep.

The one thing he wasn’t expecting? You to open the door, tears in your eyes and a pregnancy test in your clenched hand.

“Hey, are you okay?” is the first thing Carmen says. He wraps his arms around you, trying to soothe you in anyway he can. A slight head shake from you and you taking a step back, holding the test out for him to see.

“I’m pregnant. The one person I should be able to tell.. isn’t fucking here.” Your soft voice breaks his heart. It’s the rush of realization that comes first.

The fact that, you’re pregnant with Mikey’s baby.

And Mikey is dead.

“Y/N, we can.. we’ll figure this out.” He promises in a whisper, and you shake your head, more tears streaming. “How?! How am I supposed to do this by myself?” You ask, and you fall into Carmen’s arms, crying on his shoulder. He could care less about the tear stains on his white tee.

If Mikey were here, if there was a way to talk to his dead brother right now, he know what he’d say: “take care of her. Take care of my baby for me.”

“You aren’t alone. You have me.” He swears.

It’s what his brother would want.

“Promise me?” You request quietly. And he nods, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“I promise.” He repeats.

──

You knew bringing up the pregnancy to Mikey’s family would be.. rough. Sugar and Donna would be upset, with Donna resenting every choice you make.

It would be chaos. So, you kept it a secret, which was harder than it seemed.

You and Carmen had it planned out. To start “dating” two months later, and lie about the timeline of your pregnancy. No one had to know other than you two.

You and Carmen announced your pregnancy to the Berzatto clan three months later, seven months after Mikey died. All of it felt rushed and you found yourself having to force yourself to slow down.

Thankfully, though, Carmen was by your side through it all. Moving in with you and helping set up the nursery, which you made sure to send photos of to Natalie and Donna.

You were there for him when he took over the Beef. It was a while before you found the strength to go back there again, reminiscing on the times you spent in there with Mikey. Him flirting with you as you volunteered your time behind the counter.

Once you had, you found yourself in the same spot you were nearly a year ago. Laughing with Tina and Marcus, threatning jerks with Richie. Even making friends with the new chef, Sydney.

Carmen thought it was good for you. He found himself smiling in the back office as he heard your familiar, light laughter and calming voice.

“You were deeply missed!” Marcus says as he hugs you while you laugh. “So, how’s pregnancy going?” Tina asks as you sigh. “It is a bitch sometimes. But this little one will be worth it.”

“Can I just say.. thank you for bringing a smile to my brother’s face. Seriously. He hasn’t been this happy in a while.” Natalie says as you nod. “It isn’t just me. You guys play a huge part in that.”

“Yeah kid but none of us are having his baby.” Marcus points out. “I should hope not.” You reply, and that’s when the kitchen fills with laughter.

It felt like you were at home again. Carmen wasn’t the only one smiling again.

──

You stood in the nursery, your bump larger. It felt surreal to believe how far you’d come.

You were in your third trimester, 38 weeks pregnant. The nursery looked gorgeous, with a shelf close to the door holding photos from the maternity photoshoot you and Carmen did as well as sonograms pictures.

You wanted to memorialize Mikey in the room as well. A frame sits on the shelf near the sonogram, containing a photo of Natalie, Carmen and Mikey as kids.

You run a hand over Mikey’s spot in the photo, shaking your head and setting it on the shelf. “I remember the day that photo was taken. Mike hated that shirt. That was the only good photo that our mom decided to keep.” Natalie says, entering the room with a glass of water for you.

You accept it, only to nearly drop the glass when a tightening in your stomach forms. It’s at that moment you realize - your water broke, you’re having contractions and.. you’re in labor.

It’s a frenzy from there. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. You waddling-running out to the car, Natalie following behind with the bags while you begin calling Carmen’s phone repeatedly. Time feels like it’s slowed.

It isn’t until you’re at Chicago Medical and being wheeled down the hallway to your labor and delivery room that you realize two things:

1. You’re actually having this baby.

2. Mikey won’t be here to see it.

Some part of you, the part that hasn’t been hitten by the grief yet and the same part that won’t accept he’s gone, is now being hit with the grief. The realization he won’t just come into the room and come back into the room or your life again. It doesn’t rush over you, it drowns you instead.

Maybe it was just the pregnancy excitement and rush. Things hadn’t felt real since the funeral and now? Now they were forcing themselves to be accepted. Forcing you to realize that this is occuring.

It isn’t until you’re alone in the room that you allow the tears to break free. Your vision feels blurred as your heart aches for a man whose gone. One who isn’t here anymore and you can’t change that.

The sight that Carmy finds in the hospital room hurts his heart. It’s quiet, the beeping of monitors that are keeping an eye on your vitals, the baby’s vitals, contractions is the only noise filling the room. You’re seated upright, your eyes exhausted.

“Hi. How are you?” He asks softly as he walks over. He hesitantely puts a hand on your face to brush some of the hair away, and you allow it. You sigh, your face relaxing when he cradles your face like you’re the most precious thing.

“It hit me.” You say softly. “I let myself grieve for a week before his funeral, and then at least three afterward. And then I found out I was pregnant and I bottled it up because I couldn’t do it anymore. And now it hit me again. That I’m having his baby and he’s not going to get to meet him, or her.” Your fists clench at the anger of it.

There are five known stages of grief. Denial, anger, barganing, depression and acceptance. You were on the second stage: anger.

There’s nothing Carmen can say. No words to make it all better, he knows that from his own experience and people trying with him. So, instead, he stays quiet and he lets you get it out.

You exhale, laying back with his help as he props a pillow for you. “Thank you for being here.” You say softly as he takes your hand in his, entertwining your fingers. “I made a promise to be here with you through all of this.”

He intends to keep that promise.

──

‘Roan Michael Berzatto’. Eight pounds, six ounces. Born at 11:37 AM.

Most of the labor process felt like a blur. You remember crying, a lot, and Carmen holding your hand and letting you squeeze while you push, doctors and nurses overlapping each other as they speak to you. Sweat pooling on your forehead as a nurse wiped it away.

Roan looks like Mikey. He has his eyes, his nose, even the same small smile when he sleeps. It’s faint, but it’s there.

His entire hand wraps around Carmen’s pinky while he holds him. There’s a warm aura in the room, the sunlight filling the room perfectly.

You sit, watching them. Carmy walks over and sits beside you on the bed while he puts your son on his legs, as you look down at him. “He really does look like Mike.” You say softly, and Carmen laughs.

There’s a quiet in the air before he speaks again. “I love you.” He says softly. “I know maybe this isn’t the right time to tell you that, but I had to. We agreed to tell everyone this is our son and I want to keep that up, but I want more for us. I want you and I to.. be something more.”

You don’t say anything more, instead you lean over and press your lips against his, letting yourself embrace him. To take in what it feels like to kiss him, be this close to him.

Your world was suddenly full again.

#maeberzatto #mae writes!#mae writes: the bear #mae has mail! 💌#mae’s inbox #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fanfiction

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claraswritings · 1 year

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Stay For Now, I Love You Forever

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader (a tiny bit of Marc Spector x Reader- pining)

Summary: Steven meets a girl. Steven falls for her. Marc falls too.

Warning: Some angst. Set mostly pre-series. (Also for the sake of the fic, Marc is already divorced). First time writing Steven/Marc/Moon Knight system. This is not spell checked as I’m posting at nearly 2AM lol.

A/N: Meant to finish this sooner but I got Covid :( Tagged @marvelenthusiast10 )

***

“Okay Steven…what’s your symptoms.”

The man before you shifted in the chair, drumming his fingers on his jeans, eyes flickering over the walls. It looked like he was battling the urge to run away. It was obvious that he felt awkward, and you couldn’t blame him. It was pretty bizarre having to explain your sleep symptoms to a total stranger.

“Right…” Steve started then trailed off “Sorry Uhh…” he hesitated once more as he looked away from you and rested his gaze on the view from the window. where he could see I t had started to snow heavily.

“Huh…it’s snowing.” He commented “Didnt know it was going to snow? Did you?…Do you think the buses will be running?”

Sensing his rambling was a outburst of nerves, something to distract himself, you attempted to placate him “I didn’t…but I like the snow… I’m sure the buses will be fine but I’ll check the TfL website for you before you go. Do you need a drink?”

Steven brought his dark eyed gaze back to you. “Right sorry, sorry…” he muttered, scratching his jaw… “I’ll get to the point and stop rambling…”

“It’s okay…take your time…” you reassured him. “I have lots of time”

He hesitated, once more before he took a breath for composure

“Okay, so sometimes, yeah, I wake up… and…I‘ve lost… hours or even sometimes days at a time…like couple of weeks ago… I went to bed on Friday…” he gestured, with one hand, the sleeve of his over sized jacket sliding up as he did “but I woke up on Sunday…but I’m still tired…Fell asleep on the bus…” he trailed off for only long enough to rake a hand through his wavy dark hair “Feel like I’ve been hit by one too.”

He gave you a muted smile, as he pulled the long sleeves of his blue jacket back down.

Your lips lifted at corner as a response to his joke, and you nodded slowly, writing down what he was saying.

“That’s not normal is it? Losing days…” He frowned a little, his gaze on you, as you could feel him almost crying out for help “I feel like I’m losing my bloody mind.” He mumbled, his voice quiet.

“No Steven, you’re not, a lack of sleep can do all sorts of things to our bodies, that’s why I’m here. Sleep is a very difficult thing to get right… but we can help you…once we work out what might be causing whatever is happening…do you have any other symptoms? Do you ever sleep walk?”

“See… I thought maybe I did, cause I’d wake up and be like coming back through the door…” Steven leant forward, uncrossing his arms to draw a circle in the air “But like the sand circle would still be yknow in a circle, right? So I can’t be?” He spoke as if he was offering a suggesting, shoulders moving up and down in a shrug that did not look as nonchalant as he had clearly hoped

Now he’d lost you.

“Sand circle?”

“Oh god I’m gonna sound like a right weirdo…” he flopped back in the seat. “I put the sand circle around my bed…, yeah, cause if I was sleep walking I’d shuffle and ruin it.” Steven explained with a wave of his hand. “Wouldn’t I?”

You had to admit it, it was clever, if a little unconventional. “Yeah, that’s actually quite a good idea… never heard that one but I like it.” You nodded encouragingly. As the years you’d spent helping set up various sleep studies, you’d heard all the classics-no caffeine, no cheese, lavender oil, hot baths, white noise, black out curtains… but you’d never heard of using a sand circle to test if you were sleeping walking.

“That and the restraint on the bed.” Steven tacked on then instantly realised what he clicked your eyebrows shooting upwards “Not like that...I’m not like…” He muttered, a red creeping up over his face, as his hand crept up to itch the back of his neck. “Don’t really get the chance for anything like that with the…funny sleeping stuff and that…” he trailed off.

stoptalking stoptalking stoptalking stoptalking. He told himself internally and shook his head, trying not to visibly shudder at his own awkward comment. How he’d just told you, the prettiest woman he’d seen in…god knows how long, that he had a restraint on his bed. God Steven, way to show off your glaring red flag.

“You…you have a restraint?” you paused, trying not to smile at the flustered man before you, as he now was staring directly at the spot where your desk met carpet. “To prevent the sleepwalking of course.”

The comment about not having the chance stuck out to you. Must mean he’s single.

“Yeah, uh..I have tape too for the… for the door. So I can’t get out and bother anyone…Tried to keep myself up aswell, listened to a podcast and did the stuff it said… puzzles, reading books, all that…didn’t work though…”

His eyes shot back to you as hand ran through his thick wavy hair again Everything about him was a bundle of nerves from the fidgeting to the eyes looking from you to the window and back to the tangents, now on top of that, he was worried his sleep issue would bother anyone. You couldn’t help but feel for him.

“And how long have you been using these… techniques for?”

“Oh god…” he blew out a long exhale “I don’t actually know…to be quite honest…ages now…Doctor”

“It’s okay Steven, anything that can help you is worth trying…and I’m not a doctor… I’m a sleep…tech…” you held your hands up. “I just check you in and help with results.”

“Oh..sorry…” he faltered, a little embarrassed , trying to find the words “…Ms. Sleep… Tech…Technician?… Technologist?”

He cringed inwardly at his own sentence only seconds after the words had left his mouth and for the… he’d lost count… time since he’d entered the room.

“Just….[Name]”

Once again, you weren’t pulling back, recoiling or phased by his awkwardness. You were, much to his surprise, smiling at him. Not the weird passive smile Donna gave him when asking, or rather telling him, to stay late. Not the fake nicety smile exhausted tourists usually gave him, you were actually smiling at him like you thought he was funny. The smile you were giving him was so genuine and warm, he felt himself relax under your eyes.

“You must always be well rested. Must be nice.” Steven attempted to extend the conversation, hoping his attempt wasn’t too ungraceful.

“Ah. You’d be surprised,” There was a smile toying at the corner of your mouth “I’m better at giving advice than I am at following it.”

“Suppose It’s like chefs innit…they come home and probably just Deliveroo themselves a Nando’s or KFC or something?”

You laughed “Yeah, exactly what I mean…Now look…I know this is going to sound cliche but…problems with sleep, it’s more common than you think.” Pausing, you put your notebook down, and leant in, elbows planted on the desk. “But basically in your deepest stage of sleep… your brain switches off the muscles… so you won’t be acting out your dreams or anything crazy. If you are in that stage, you won’t go anywhere, Steven.”

You turned one of your folders over and pushed a case plan towards him, and pointing out the diagrams with the end of your pen.

“We’ll chart your brainwaves whilst you’re asleep… then we can use them to work out what’s going on.”

“And that’ll help me?” He sounded hopeful as his gaze ran over the notes, following your make shift pointer.

“Yeah I hope so, i mean it might not stop the processes but it’ll help us understand what’s going on.”

“You must think I’m a right weirdo…but it’s nice…to talk to someone that isn’t my fish…or the living statue bloke,” Steven turned back to you, giving you a thankful look. “Or my boss.” He pulled a face.

“I don’t think you’re weird, Steven… I want to help you. I’ll listen for as long as you need me to”

You hadn’t automatically assumed he was some weirdo which was a relief. He felt comfortable with you like you actually wanted to help him rather than judging him.

There was a moments silence, then your eyes flicked down to the notebook that lay between you and back to Steven.

“Do you drink tea…or coffee?”

“Oh… um, just tea with soy milk and one sugar. Sometimes a hot chocolate? Although that’s not caffeine is it? I wouldn’t mind one of those flavoured ones, Think they do them that cafe around the corner if you’d like?” He grinned somewhat awkwardly “they do refills…which you know in London, gotta get your moneys worth… it’s expensive.”

You felt a heat creep up your face “Erm…it’s for the questionnaire? I need to know how much caffeine you’re drinking?”

“Oh..oh god I’m sorry, I’ve just put my foot in it havent I?… I thought you were…and now I’m rambling, I do that…”

“But…yes Steven. I’d love to have any hot drink with you…”

“Wait. Really?” Steven faltered, surprised.

“Of course. I finish at half five. I’ll meet you there.”

And when you’d walked into the cafe, saw him already waiting there, drink gently steaming on the table and book in hand, reading glasses on, you’d slid in beside him and had never looked back.

When Steven offered to meet you at your flat to go for dinner two days later, you agreed. It was suggestion, that had it come from any of the fuck boys in your Tinder matches would have had you hitting the un match button…but with Steven…you knew he was being sweet.

You knew he wasn’t just asking to try get into your place and into your underwear, although you wouldn’t have minded. He was asking because he didn’t want you to walk to the Tube station alone in the dark.

Steven had wrapped up in a winter coat, and worn a dark blue scarf and matching gloves. He brought chocolate and a dozen pink roses, which as he’d handed over, he’d told you that he noticed your notebook had been pink and thought it was a safe bet for the colour. Before you could say thank you he’d already apologised for the chocolates incase you hated them or incase he’d got the colour wrong.

You’d kissed him on the cheek, told them they were perfect and that you’d share the chocolates with him, before linking your gloved hands together and starting your walk to your favourite Asian restaurant in Camden, where he’d had a tofu version of a curry and you’d had chicken teriyaki skewers. It was closing time before you’d left arm in arm, giggling as you walked together.

As you made your way back to the Tube station, Steven had excitedly wanted to try a bubble waffle, so you’d opted for a shared vegan friendly version and ate it with two forks. You’d hugged him outside the station then met him outside his work two days later…and before long you’d fallen into an easy pattern of dating.

The first time he hadn’t called when he said he would, was one month into dating and he was eight hours late. Steven had saw the voicemails left from you and panicked, fully expecting the “you’re an arsehole, never talk to me again” but no, you’d called him to check he was okay, came by his place and even posted a card through his letterbox telling him you were thinking of him and you hoped he was okay.

You were worried.

Steven kept that card in the top drawer of his beside table alongside a napkin from your first date, one of the gratuity sweets from your second, the first note you’d ever wrote to him, a puzzle you’d bought to do together and a model pyramid you’d saw online and thought of him. You’d said you just saw it on Amazon, but it wasn’t one you could just buy. Steven knew from the model that you’d have had to buy it from a specific retailer. You’d never tell him you googled it specifically but he loved that you did.

He knew he loved you then and there

“Hey babe.” You stuck your head around the entrance to the gift shop and grinned at him.

Steven, at the sight of you, dropped the plush back into a box and ran to you, squeezing you tight.

“Hiya love, I’m just finishing up here. Won’t be five minutes and I’ll be over to you” he kept his hands on your waist as you wrapped yours around his neck and kissed him before reaching up and straightening the collar of his patterned shirt

“Okay, babe. I’ll just wander around. We can go to that new bakery if you like. I’ve checked the menu, they do have vegan options.”

His lips curled into a smile and he squeezed your hand by way of thanking you before you headed off to wait for him.

“That sounds brilliant. Really good!”

“Stevie!” A call rang out from across the room and Steven rolled his eyes

“Oh fuck Donna.”

“Stevie! I told you the answers no. So just stop talking to guests…alright? Leave it to the real tour guides…”She turned to you, not giving him the chance to reply “Is he bothering you?”

“Actually…” you wrapped your arm around Steven. “He’s not. I’m…”

“Oh…Stevie’s girlfriend.” Donna pointed at you “Gunna be honest, thought he’d made you up. Kept saying you were dead pretty and let him talk. Didn’t actually think you were real.” She laughed mirthlessly. “Thought he was bothering the guests again!”

“Well Steven is a wealth of information, and I want my info from the best source” you gave her as friendly of a smile as you could muster.

“Best source is a tour guide” she smiled “but I’m glad he has someone to listen to his weird rambling.”

“I’d rather hear about it from someone with a passion for it”

“I’m sure our guides are plenty passionate.” She turned on her heel to face Steven. “Clock off please. I’m not paying you to chat to your girlfriend.”

“Sure, Donna. Pleasure as always.” He gave a curt wave, however she had already stalked off before she could return the acknowledgment. “Back in a sec, love.” He leant in and pecked your lips before disappearing off to clock out.

When he returned a few minutes later you linked you arm through his, and noticing he looked slightly dejected, attempted to offer him some comfort.

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on. I’ve done a few of these tours and I’ve learnt more from listening to you at home than I have from any of them”

“Really?” He perked up “Cause we have this new exhibit, it’s basically like the super group of Egyptian gods and it’s really interesting…the posters only show seven but there’s nine and…” Steven was suddenly conscious he was babbling but when he looked at you, he was still holding your attention.

“Tell me about it?” You asked him.

“About the super group?” Steven was quick to check, excited at the chance to discuss his passion before stopping. “I don’t want to bore you, love”

“You won’t.” You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze through

Steven could never bore you, everything about him was captivating. He was so excited and so passionate about Egyptian mythology that you couldn’t help but be drawn in by his wide eyed enthusiasm. You liked it when he went off on a tangent. It was cute.

“I love you, you know. And not just because you let me go on about Egyptology or that, I just really do love you, and I never thought I’d get that.”

“I love you too Steven.” You kissed him. “Now tell me about these super gods, I wanna know about the missing ones…”

***a few weeks later***

Marc froze. You were half asleep-half awake, the lights from the window, casting bright lights through the window of Stevens flat. You looked angelic, the slopes of your face, the curves of your body as you pulled the duvet tighter.

He’d watched from the background as you and Steven had fallen for each other over the past few months and Marc had, having seen how you were to Steven, had fallen for you too.

He’d realised it when he saw how gentle you were with Steven, after he’d woken one night when you’d been staying the night. He’d stumbled back to bed, a struggle to keep control of the body and barely collapsed into a half slumber before Steven had woke with a jolt around fifteen minutes later, pulling hard at the restraint and checking around him.

**flashback**

“Hey hey, it’s me babe, you’re okay…” you, on instinct, sat up next to Steven. He was checking the restraint, pulling at it hard to make sure it was in place. “…Steven, babe. You’re here, I’m with you, it’s okay.”

You reached for him slowly not making contact until Steven turned to meet your eyes. He was breathing heavy, chest heaving and shoulders tight, brow furrowed as you wrapped one arm around him and held his hand with the other.

“Steven. You haven’t had anything like this in a while.”

It was the first time you’d been there when it had happened. Usually, if Steven had a rough night, he’d call you and you’d talk and you’d stay with him listening.

“Im here babe.” You whispered

“Youre here.” His voice sounded so small and lost and such a far cry from how you’d ever heard him. A part of your heart broke seeing your usual bubbly, chatty Steven such a wreck. “I thought you’d left.”

“No. No.” You pulled him into you, lying back with his head on your shoulder as you carefully carded your hand through his curls. “I’m not leaving.…” You reached for his hand and pressed a kiss to the back of his knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please stay for now”

“Of course, for as long as you need me.”

Marc had felt so guilty that night that he’d resolved that he wouldn’t go far when you were staying the night. Steven deserved some happiness, a sense of peace, some chance to be normal so tonight he’d kept it short, a quick hour before returning back to you.

Marc wondered if he’d met you first…rather than Steven, would you have fallen in love with him? Would you be stroking circles on his back and whispering sweet nothings to him when he woke in the dead of the night, freaked out and panicking.

He doubted it. Everything you loved was so rooted in Steven. Sweet, endearingly quirky, good-natured, warm hearted, clever Steven, who was nothing like Marc.

You were always staring at Steven, looking in his big wide eyes, playing with the fluffy curls that Marc usually slicked back, sliding your hands under Steven’s oversized clothes that Marc hated, asking him questions about the book Steven was reading that Marc didn’t know anything about, offering suggestions for whatever puzzle Steven was looking at that Marc didn’t care for, you cooked Steven vegan versions of your own lunches where Marc would have preferred the meat, you left cute notes for Steven to find. You called him Babe all the time.

Steven deserved the world but, god how Marc was jealous. He wanted you to look at him the way you looked at Steven. He could feel it heavy on his shoulders as he breathed and like an open wound in his chest.

“Steven?” He froze in the spot where he was, you turned over in the bed, voice half asleep. “Come back to bed. It’s cold.” You muttered

“Shhh, back to sleep.” He had hoped you wouldn’t notice the change from London to American as he whispered approaching the bed.

“Babe you’re talking different.” you muttered.

The second of silence that passed felt like an age to Marc, the only sound was his hammering heart rate, before you filled the room with a sleepy laugh “You’re so funny…I love you Steven.”

And like that you were back to sleep, leaving Marc alone with his own racing heart.

**a few weeks later**

Steven had been gone for five days. You’d spent most of your mornings leaving early for work to drop in on him and see if he’d shown up, your lunch breaks scouring the local news to see if an anonymous man had shown up in any hospitals, you’d called almost every hospital and police station within a ten mile radius. The police had told you they’d “note his name and description” and let you know. By Wednesday you’d even went to his work twice only for Donna to tell you Steven doesn’t work here.

You’d began to wonder you should be going back to the police to tell them the missing person you’d reported still had not shown up when you heard a knocking at your door

“Gimme a minute,” You called out as pulled yourself off the sofa and headed to the door. Hauling it open you half expected to see your neighbour or the postman. What you were not expecting to see was your boyfriend, in a baggy navy jumper, hair sticking up at all angles and looking like he’d come off a 72 hour all nighter.

He wouldn’t have of course, Steven barely drank so you couldn’t process exactly how or what the fuck had happened until he spoke.

“Hi.” He managed to get out “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

“Steven…You‘ve been gone for days…where the fuck where you?” Your mouth formed the words, quieter, more concerned than angry.

Instead of saying a word, you felt him slump into your arms, exhausted.

“Fucking hell Steven, what happened?” You repeated yourself with a mutter as you looped an arm around his waist and the other you used to support him and helped him to the couch, where he flopped down. Your heart ached just looking at him.

“Don’t go.” He murmured, “Stay here.”

“I’m just getting you a blanket and a cuppa, babe… okay?” You brushed some of his curls back as he nodded. “I’ll be back in two minutes… I promise.”

You kissed his head and exactly two minutes later, you returned a steaming mug of tea and your favourite sage green blanket. You’d bought it in the Dunlem sale and it never left your bed until it made its way to Stevens. You’d wrapped him in it once when he’d fallen asleep at his desk and he’d looked so adorable you’d insisted he kept it.

“Are you okay? Should I be calling an ambulance or the police or something?”

His hands knotted around the edges as you draped it over him and sat the mug in front of him. You sat in silence beside him until he’d had a few large gulps. Steven shook his head

“I’m okay…no ambulance. no police needed. It’s alright..”

“Steven. You have to tell me where you were.” You tried “Please. I thought you were missing or dead, I kept expecting to see your picture on the news as a fucking body found.”

“You wouldn’t believe me…” he let out a tiny impression of a laugh “I mean not just you… no one would and I don’t blame them.”

“I will…I promise.”

“It sounds made up”

“Babe, not that long ago Spider-Man had a fight on Tower Bridge, and before that half the world disappeared and came back and before that Thor had a fight with that…alien thing in Greenwich and before that if you’d asked me, I’d say that shit only happens in New York but I’m three out of three of mad things that have happened to me so nothing you say is going to freak me out… but saying nothing is…” You pressed your head to his. “Please…please tell me where you were.”

Steven sighed, you looked so desperate to help, so worried and he could hear Marc, telling him to be honest with you, not being honest with Layla had cost him his relationship, and although they were still friends, he didn’t want the same to happen to you.

“Yeah okay…” he started “but you got to let me tell you the whole thing, alright? No matter how mental it sounds.”

You smiled. “Of course.”

And for the whole time, you kept your attention on him, nodding, asking questions and squeezing his hand”

“Suppose that’s it all.” He said with a finish “I’ll understand if you don’t want to go out with me anymore…”

“Steven.” You pulled him into a hug, hands reaching up to rub his back. “I believe you and I love you and of course I still want to go out with you.”

“But all I do is cause problems for everyone…I don’t want to mess up your-.”

“You could never be a problem. Not for me.”

“I will eventually.”

“Steven, there is no problem you could cause that would be too big. You were never a problem to me.” Your head shook vehemently “and you never will be. Not now, not ever. You and me always.”

“I love you…” he muttered leaning in and pressing his head to yours so softly “forever”

“…I love you so much.”

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me…us.” He paused, as you tilted your head with a smile “Marc won’t come forward now but he cares for you. A lot.”

“Steven, you will always be enough for me…but one day I’d like to meet him…Marc…if that’s okay with both of you…when he’s ready.”

Steven nodded. “I think he’d like that too.”

The relief lifted a weigh off his shoulders and he felt himself settle back into the sofa. You joined him, and slipped your arms around him, pulling the blanket around you both.

“I’ve missed you.” You muttered quietly.

“I missed you too.”

Steven kissed you softly and started to apologise before you planted another kiss on his lips, softly and gently.

“Shhh, you have nothing to apologise for. I’m just glad I have my boyfriend back.” You gave him an easy smile and he leant in.

.“I’m glad I’m back too…love. To the rest of our lives Eh?” He leant in to you as you repeated his sentiment.

“To the rest of our lives”

#steven grant x reader #steven grant imagine #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #steven grant #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x you #moon knight imagine

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shimmerwindow · 28 days

Text

I Never Really

Part Eighteen

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Angst, alcohol use, smut

Sexual content: Fingering n' fuckin. (it's a quick one)

Playlist | Masterlist

Tag List: @jazzyfigz @dont-go-home-without-me @poochiesworld @stardustcatcher @83rkblogs @jaketsguitar @dannys-dream @gretavanfan @do-it-jakey-baby @gvfpal @ignite-my-fire @gardensgatekeeper @torniturntomyarrow

“Are you busy tonight?” Josh’s voice was cheery on the other end of the phone you held to your ear. “You should come out with me and Danny!”

You had no desire to leave your dorm whatsoever. You hadn’t felt the need to leave, except for classes, for the past two weeks straight. Most of your free time was consumed with sleeping, to avoid the aches in your heart. “I really shouldn't. I’ve got some homework I should catch up on,” you lied.

“That’s what you said last time,” Josh said, sounding a little whiny. “Just come out. You won’t regret it.”

“I can’t. Have a good night, Josh.”

“Wait! Listen, you’ve been cooped up in there for weeks, haven’t you? That’s so terrible for the mind. Just a few drinks, nothing ridiculous, it’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

He’d called you a week ago asking the same thing, but he hadn’t alluded to knowing anything about the situation. You figured he must know, but he was giving you the space to only ask for support if you wanted it. And you didn’t feel like you deserved anything of the sort. “I feel fine.”

“You sound like you’ve spent the whole day fuckin’ crying. Just come out with us. Just for an hour, that’s all I’ll ask.”

He clearly wasn’t going to take no for an answer, stubborn as he was. You wouldn’t be surprised if you said no, he would come knocking at your door within minutes. “Fine. One hour. Then I’m going home.” You figured that was as long as you could hold it together for, anyway.

“Be there soon.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he hung up.

You pulled on something halfway decent-looking, trying your best in the mirror to cover up the dark circles under your eyes. You still looked a mess, but in the dark lighting of a bar, nobody would be able to tell you’d spent the last two weeks crying your eyes out nightly.

You met the two outside, Danny pulling the car around with Josh riding shotgun. You slid into the back, your mind in a daze, still unable to pull yourself out of the fog you’d been in.

“Hey, how ya doing?” Danny asked, turning around to give you a smile before he drove off.

“I’m alright.”

“You sure don’t look it. No offense,” Josh said, turning to face you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “None taken. Life’s been a bit hard lately.”

“I hear that,” Danny replied. “Sounds like you need a drink. Or five.”

“Not too much, now,” Josh said.

“I’m guessing...you guys know…” just attempting to say the words wracked your body with indescribable pain. The two of them stiffened, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. You wished you’d never brought it up at all.

“I mean, we don’t really want to…” Danny started.

Josh picked up where he left off. “If you want to talk about it, we’re here to listen. And help. If you want it, of course.”

“I don’t want to trouble you with all of that.” You waved a hand and offered a weak smile.

“It’s no trouble at all.” Danny flashed a grin at you through the rear view mirror.

“We can talk about it later,” you replied.

Later came quickly, several drinks in, as you and Josh slurred your words and spoke far too loudly over Danny, the only sober man in the room. One hour turned into many, and your heart finally opened, and you began to pour out all of the words you’d let linger inside of you. Voices drowned out most of your ramblings, as did the droning country-pop blaring from the radio.

“They’re both just fucking assholes,” you said with a flourish of your drink, nearly knocking a bystander in the head with it. “Both of them.”

“I don’t think you mean that.” Danny had been attempting to be the voice of reason, though it was difficult while caught between you and Josh.

“This whole situation is fucked up. I don’t get it, why didn’t you just tell Sam?” Josh asked.

“Because I knew he was fucking around with that other girl!”

“So what?” Josh gave an exaggerated shrug. “Fuck her. You deserve him more.”

“I think she was trying not to be a homewrecker, Josh,” Danny said.

“Exactly.” You set your drink down a bit too hard, sending droplets splattering onto your arm. “I really like him, I– I love him, so I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“You didn’t want to hurt him,” Danny began. “So you slept with his brother. Right.”

“Listen, I just thought…” You stopped in your tracks, the weight of your actions washing over you like waves of mercury once again. He had a point you couldn't refute.

“Those two, they’re always, like…” Josh snapped his fingers a few times, his eyes to the ceiling, searching for words. “They’ve got the same taste in women, I think. Causes problems sometimes.”

“Has anything like this happened before?” You asked.

“Not quite this severe.” Danny rested the toes of his shoes against the bar, leaning his chair back a bit. “You’ve got both of them all shook up like I haven’t seen before.”

“They don’t usually fight like that,” Josh added.

“Jake, he had a–” you gestured to your cheek, motioning in the shape of the bruise you’d seen. “Sam didn’t do that, did he?” You weren’t sure whether you actually wanted to know the answer.

The two exchanged glances, and Josh nodded, slowly.

You groaned, running a hand across your face. “Don’t tell me Jake busted Sam’s pretty face, too.”

Josh squinted at you, holding up two fingers in a pinching motion. “A little.”

“Jesus, I’m gonna kill both of them. Fighting over me like fucking cavemen.”

“It’s par for the sibling course, darling. Don’t worry about it too much,” Josh said. “We’ve all taken and given our fair share of ass-kickings.”

“Still doesn't make it right,” you sighed. “I wonder if Sam ever even liked me the way he said he did. Maybe he was just messing around so he could fuck.”

Josh blinked at you. “What on god’s green earth would make you think that?”

“Well, he just…he was able to move on so fast–”

“First of all,” Josh began, “All he’s talked to me about was you for the past fucking month. Also, he didn’t move on.”

“He didn't?”

“Of course not,” Danny chimed in before Josh could speak. “I don’t even think he’s seen anybody else since you. Not that we’ve heard, at least.”

“But I haven't seen him…not even once. Clearly he doesn’t care that much if–”

Josh cut you off with a loud, exaggerated groan. “Why are you arguing?”

“Josh,” Danny urged. “Be gentle.”

“Gentle? I don't need to be gentle. You–” he grabbed your shoulders, his light touch contrasting the edge to his words. “Need to realize that he loves you.”

“We never said that,” you said, struck suddenly by how Josh and Sam shared the same eyes. So kind, and inviting. “We never said I love you.”

“Then maybe you should. Because he's said it about you. Maybe not to your face, but he's made it plenty clear.”

“You just need to talk to him, honestly,” Danny said, gently lifting Josh’s hands from your shoulders. “Have you tried reaching out?”

“I haven’t,” you said, a bit guilty. “I thought that if he wanted anything to do with me, he’d have texted me first.”

“Then that’s exactly what you need to do. Call him, text him, hell – go knock on his door. Talk to him in person.” Danny watched you as your lip began to quiver, thinking about the anxiety of having to address your wrongs straight in the face. “It’s not gonna be easy. But you can’t just let this…fester. You two were made for each other.”

“Jesus, you really think so?”

“Everyone thinks so,” Josh said with a wide smile.

"Even Jake?" Just the act of letting his name grace your lips brought forth an entirely new wave of anxiety.

The two men paused, glancing at their drinks, though the silence was not awkward. "I think Jake..." Josh started, finding the right words. "I think he just wants you to be happy. He didn't really understand what was going on between you and Sam."

"Clearly," you mumbled.

"Jake is a bit territorial," Danny added, spreading his arms wide. "When Jake thinks a girl is his, he takes it seriously. More seriously than he probably should."

"Especially when he's not trying to date anyone." Josh's words betrayed a deeper annoyance, like this exact situation had played out far more than once. "It's partially on Sam for not mentioning how serious the two of you were sooner. But Jake won't sabotage you now that he knows," he shrugged. "But you still need to talk to Sam."

“Fine, then.” You took another deep swig from your drink. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him everything. Tomorrow.”

“Atta girl!” Josh exclaimed, giving you a pat on the back.

“I need a fucking cigarette,” you mumbled.

Outside, the sound from the crowd drained away, only the loudest of shouts and heaviest of glasses clinking audible behind the glass doors to the patio. You were too drunk at this point to keep a steady conversation going, but it was pleasurable nonetheless. Josh and Danny were an incredibly funny duo, and just a few minutes of casual talking had your sides in stitches from laughing.

You felt, dare you say, better. You did seem to have a terrible knack for avoiding talks you didn’t want to have. But Danny and Josh had assuaged those worries that kept you from saying what needed to be said. It was likely mostly the alcohol speaking, but you were feeling confident in your ability to finally speak to Sam. It needed to be done, no matter what. If nothing else, he deserved closure from you. An admission of the truth, straight from your lips.

The three of you couldn’t last long in the cold, huddling together to shield yourselves from the wind that whipped past the nearby buildings. Josh and Danny cracked first, and with a “fuck this,” they headed back into the bar, with you in tow. The two of them had just barely passed through the hallway back into the main section of the bar when they stopped dead in their tracks, so quickly you ran into Danny’s back, bumping your glass on him and sending an ice cube tumbling over the leather.

“Shit, sorry,” you mumbled, peering around both of them to see what had stopped them so suddenly.

It all seemed to happen so fast. Both of them turned around at the same time, stepping towards you, blabbing nonsense about how you should go back outside. But not before you caught a glimpse of the bar, straight ahead. Many unfamiliar faces, among them two you knew. One of which you knew well.

Sam sat at the bar, a drink in his hand, his arm around a girl, who was resting herself against him. A girl you recognized from your worst nightmares, some of which were waking. He was talking to her, a smile on his lips. In an instant, his eyes caught yours through the gap between Josh and Danny’s shoulders. His smile faded, turned into something you’d never seen. Like his lips would never know the sweet feeling of a smile again. And he turned away.

Josh and Danny had to nearly drag you back to Danny’s car, as your legs threatened to give out with every step with the force of your sobs. People stared, whispered at each other under their breath, but you didn’t care. You wished you’d gone blind. Your stomach churned on the ride home as you prayed to any god to turn back time just a few months.

Everything was a blur. You barely processed anything as Josh rubbed your back through your heaving cries, or kind words were offered from Danny when you screamed that Sam never cared about you at all. You wished you were being dramatic, you wished this was all not as serious as you were taking it. You wished you’d never thought of your future with him, that you’d never given yourself the space to hope and dream. The walls he’d broken down would be replaced swiftly, and sturdier than ever, you thought.

Danny, ever the caregiver, sat with you as Josh stumbled his way to bed. He gave you all the blankets you needed to quell the shaking your body refused to quit, as many tissues as you needed to dry your eyes. He listened as you rambled, drunkenly, about the same topics over and over. Rehashing the events of the past months, trying to make sense of it all, trying to find a solution, though there was none.

You'd taken Danny for some kind of frat-boy-type, player, seducer. But sitting in the living room with him, letting him hold your hand for support while he told you everything would be alright, you realized you’d painted him as far too one-dimensional. He was kind, and only wanted the best for you, even though he didn’t know you all that well.

You insisted you didn’t want to be a bother, and that you’d walk yourself home. He physically held you back as you tried to get up from the couch. “Absolutely the fuck not,” he said.

You’d pushed, saying you needed to be alone, you didn’t want to keep anyone up with your crying. “I should just go,” you insisted. “I can't–”

“Shush.” He placed a hand on top of your head, ruffling your hair a bit. “I didn’t bring down all those blankets and pillows for fun. Use them. Go to sleep.”

Sleep seemed like an impossible, far-away pipe dream right now, even through your exhaustion. Still, you were thankful he'd given you a warm place to rest your head, where you wouldn’t be entirely alone. “Thanks Danny,” you said, almost able to force a smile onto your face. “I’m sure I’m being a lot right now. I–”

“Don’t even think about apologizing. You needed a friend, that’s alright. Now go to bed.”

You did as he said, resting your head on the pillows. “Is…is he coming back tonight?” You glanced at the front door.

Danny followed your gaze to the door, looking at you plaintively. “Probably not. And Jake’s gone for at least the weekend. Don’t worry about that right now, though. You’ve been through enough tonight.”

You nodded in agreement, letting your swollen eyes slip shut as Danny turned off the lights. “Sleep well. We can talk in the morning.”

In the darkness, alone, your mind wanted you to think it all over again. You were exhausted, drained beyond belief, unable to even comprehend the events laid out in front of you. It took great effort, but you were finally able to relax just enough to drift into something resembling sleep.

That is, until you heard keys rattling in the front door. You shot up, staring at the door, your heart pounding immediately. Someone was out there. Someone was about to walk in. You prayed it was Jake, prayed he would simply walk right past you with nothing more than a half-smile and a nod. The door opened quietly, and you watched closely at the way the person swung it quickly past the points where it would creak.

Sam stood in the doorway, motionless, the door still open behind him, cold air pooling over you. He said your name, questioning, just barely loud enough for you to hear. You said nothing – what was there to say? You wished he would just ignore you, walk past you, go up to his room and slam the door. Instead, you watched, captivated, as he took his coat and shoes off, locked the door behind him, and sat down on the other end of the couch, cross-legged, facing you.

“Hey,” he said. A forced casualness tainted the word.

“You shouldn’t be doing this.” You meant that. There was no saving what you’d had.

“I know.” He let out a shaky sigh. “I don’t…know what to say.”

You could just barely see him, his features only dimly lit from a light in the kitchen. You pointed to his temple, where the remnants of a bruise darkened his skin. “Jake did that to you. Didn’t he?”

Sam nodded. “Does it look cool?” There was not an ounce of humor in the words.

“Why did you fight over me?”

“Because I thought I deserved you more.”

“You deserve far better than me.”

He tsked his tongue, shaking his head. “I don’t want anything but you.”

“But you were with that girl tonight.”

“Because you’re not mine anymore. Or, I guess, you never were.”

“Fair enough.”

“We never fucking talk,” he hissed. You were sure he would have shouted, if he could. “This is our problem. What we're doing right now. We never just fucking talk to each other. I’ve said it before, and neither of us change it.”

“I thought we were doing alright.”

“But you didn’t tell me you had been fucking my brother on the side.”

“It was twice. And I wanted to tell you, I was planning on it, I just–”

“Why? After everything I told you, why him?” You could see tears in his eyes, glistening against the glow from the streetlights peeking through the curtains.

You took a long pause. You wished there was a better answer, something more concrete or absolute, but the truth was all you wanted to say. “I don’t know. You weren’t there, and he was. It was fucking stupid of me. It wasn’t to hurt you, though. Not consciously. I saw you with her, and I figured there was no way you could want me more than someone who looks like that.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “Sure.”

“I’m trying to talk to you.” Another batch of tears was lining up behind your eyes, though you couldn’t fathom having any more left to cry. “I just want you to know the truth.”

“How am I supposed to trust you? Now, or ever?”

You could only shake your head. “I don’t know.”

“It’s been so hard,” he said, his hand coming to idly rest on yours, splayed out on the couch between the two of you. The simple touch felt like grabbing a fistful of snow with bare fingers, icy and shocking. “I don’t know…I’m just not me without you.”

“I know.” Tears started to fall again, and you didn’t bother wiping them away. Your eyes were already irritated enough from the hours you’d spent sobbing in this very spot. “I can’t bring myself to do anything.”

“What are we supposed to do now?”

“I think we have to answer that ourselves.”

“I just can’t survive without you.” His fingers walked up the back of your hand, wrapping gently around your forearm. “But we’re killing each other. I can’t…” He pulled his hand away, and hesitated. Stillness filled the air when his fingers ran across your cheek, wiping away a tear there. “I can’t see you like this. I can’t do this to you.”

“I can’t do this to you, either.” You mirrored his gesture, your thumb running trails over the tracks of tears on his face.

“Can I…” he shifted, gesturing to you to come closer. Despite your better judgment, you fell heavy into his arms, resting your cheek against his collarbone. That scent again, it hit you like waves, dredging up every hope and every wish you’d fought so hard to bury over the past two weeks. You wished you could lay this way forever, a familiar position you used to adopt when the two of you would lounge in bed together.

“Can we just pretend everything is normal?” You said, with the lightest hint of a forced laugh.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please.” The word was choked, nearly a sob. “Just give me this one night with you.”

“We can’t.” His motions contradicted his words as his hands pulled you closer to his chest.

“Just tonight and then we can both forget.” It stung to say it, like a papercut. “We can forget about each other. I’ll forget about your whole family. It can be like we never happened.”

You heard him suck in a hitched breath through his teeth. With hands that trembled, he cupped the sides of your face and drew you in, stopping short of a kiss. You wanted nothing more than to break past his hands, meet your lips with his, feel every inch of him under your mouth. You needed him more than could be expressed in words or actions, it was far deeper, something soul-crushing and gut-wrenching.

He felt it too. And he was not strong enough to resist. He pulled you in, kissing you, with the fervor of a man who has waited his entire life for this moment. He tasted salty, the taste of your mutual tears collected on the corners of your lips; a reminder of that night at the bar with him, the salt of his neck.

You tried to hold yourself back. You knew you shouldn’t let this go any further, but your hands moved on their own to wrap around his neck. “We shouldn't do this,” you mumbled, peppering kisses along his jaw.

“Then stop.”

You couldn’t, and neither could he. It was so unceremonious, but there was something sacred about your movements. The way he ripped the blankets off of you, the way his hands slipped under your shirt, the way you pulled at his hair and fumbled with the button on his pants. Neither of you needed to ask – you were far past that point. It was all unsaid, as many things tended to be between the two of you. He only needed to give you that look he’d given you however many dozen times in the past, the one that you’d reply to with a nod and dewy doe-eyes.

Things were a blur, hands grasping and fingers trailing over flesh, lips colliding with fervor in dead silence and darkness. You could just barely see his face, but you didn’t need to see much. The sound of his breathing, the scent of his skin, it all led you back home.

He shoved your pants down to your knees, dragging you into his lap, his lips never leaving yours. He shifted your bodies, leaning his back against the couch, straddling your knees on either side of his.

“You always smell so good,” he whispered into the side of your neck. “I dream about it.” He slid a hand between the two of you, running a finger through the wetness already drenching your thighs. “I wake up sometimes and I could swear you’re right there next to me.”

You’d done the same, thought you were crazy for being surprised at the other half of your bed being cold and empty every morning. You couldn’t vocalize it, not when he slid a finger into you and you had to bite down on his shoulder to keep yourself silent. But he could feel it from you, the subtle agreement present in how your nails scratched thin lines into his biceps.

“Is that good?” He asked, his breath warming the shell of your ear.

You let out a muffled mhm, your teeth still sunk into his shoulder. If you hadn’t already broken the skin, you would leave a bruise for certain. He didn’t seem to mind, though.

You trailed your hands over the fabric of his shirt, down to where you'd managed to haphazardly undo the fly of his jeans. You hadn’t realized your fingers were cold until they settled on the warmth of his cock, making him suck a breath in through his teeth and jump back a bit. The two of you stifled muted laughs at the exchange, and even if it was only a glimpse, it was heartwarming to feel a brief moment of humor.

Your bodies moved in time quickly, your hand moving in languid strokes along his cock as he worked you open with his fingers. You didn’t want to wait, having waited long enough, having suffered more than enough lately. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes before you were begging him for it.

He slipped himself into you with little grace or fanfare, desperate for it. You let out a strained breath, watching what little of him you could see in the dark. You weren’t prepped quite enough, the stretch of him knocking the wind out of you.

“Fuck,” he whispered, the word coming out shaky. “You feel better than I remember.”

You let out a downright pathetic whimper, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, your legs already trembling.

“Move.” It was a command, not a request.

It was difficult, trying to force your body to move when each drag of your hips threatened to pull a moan from your lips.

Words piled up behind your teeth when he pulled you closer, his lips dragging across the skin of your neck. Your face buried in his hair, you tried to take all of this in. The silk of his hair against your cheek, the smell of sweat and cologne, the way his shoulders rose and fell with each shaking breath. It was so beautiful, so bittersweet, a gorgeous agony you’d never be able to forget.

“Just say it,” he said lowly. “I can tell you want to say it so just fucking say it.”

“I love you.” It spilled from your lips brutally, the sound crashing against the walls of the room like thrown fine china.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Sam.”

“More.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you, you’re everything to me, you’re my stars, my sky, my universe–”

He wrapped his hands tighter around you, tight enough that you could barely breathe. But you didn’t feel the need to breathe, not when you were filled with him, surrounded by him. Your mind started to unravel, giving in to sheer, untethered bliss. Your eyes slipped shut and in the darkness you could see gold.

“I love you too,” he said, softly, casually, like he’d said it a hundred times. Maybe, in his head, he had.

This couldn't be it. This couldn’t be the last time you’d feel him this way. He broke into a steady rhythm, keeping himself buried inside you for the most part, grinding his hips against you.

You mumbled sweet nonsense against his neck, planting kisses between every word, chanting his name like a mantra in the hopes you might stay this way forever. “I never want you to let me go.” Both physically and emotionally, you meant it both ways.

“I can’t,” he breathed. “I can’t imagine me without you. I can’t imagine the sky with no moon and no sun.”

You exhaled a breathy laugh against his skin. “Still so corny.”

“I know how much you love it.”

You had to fight desperately to keep quiet when his hands wrapped around the bottoms of your thighs, lifting and dropping you slightly with each thrust of his hips.

“Stay quiet, baby. You’re doing such a good job.”

He’d never talked to you like this before, never during sex. This was more than just sex, though. What you were doing was something intimate, something deeper, something you both desperately needed. Some kind of closure, or the opening of another door, you couldn’t tell which one quite yet.

A quiet moan slipped past your lips when his hand dropped down beneath you to press against your clit, the perfect amount of pressure, just the way you liked it. His free hand clasped over your mouth, gentle but forceful.

“Quiet, my love.”

My love.

You were getting close to a peak you knew you couldn't keep silent, waves of it washing over your body and sending sparks down your spine, into the tip of every limb. He pulled his hand away at just the right time for you to warn him.

“Sammy, I’m–”

“I know. I can feel it.” You could faintly hear the rumble of his own groans that he caught in his throat, keeping himself quiet with what seemed like great effort.

“Is it better?” He asked.

“What?” You gasped, your focus faltering.

“Do I fuck you better than he does?”

There was no hesitation. “Much better.”

He pulled back a bit, searching for your face in the darkness, finding it and catching your lips in a kiss. There were so many words unsaid that passed through that kiss, every confession, every lie you’d ever told, it was all so glaringly obvious in the way your lips met.

His fingers were digging in tighter against you, his legs starting to shake with effort. He was just as close as you were, fighting, struggling to hold himself back.

“I don’t think I can– oh, god, Sammy, I can’t keep this a quiet one,” you warned him.

“Me neither,” he laughed, breathlessly.

His hand shot up to cover your mouth as you let out a sound that was far too loud. He, too, grit his teeth against whatever noise threatened to make itself known as both of you tipped over the cliffside of your peaks, together. A groan like a sob tore itself out of his chest and he had to cover his own mouth, his head falling back against the couch.

You held onto his shoulders for dear life as he plunged you down into a world of untethered pleasure, his name falling from your lips even though it didn’t make a sound. Stars exploded across your vision, your legs failing you as all you could do was grind helplessly against him. Your hips moved of their own accord, chasing the remnants of bliss.

His fingers gripped your waist after a moment, stilling your movements. “Stop, stop, oh my god,” he whispered, a desperate edge to his voice from the overstimulation.

There was no rush to separate. Neither of you wanted this moment to end. It was clear this was not something you could stop. Your love was an unstoppable force, and you both were incapable of living without it.

“Did you mean it?” His tone was nonchalant, as if he didn’t care what your answer would be one way or the other.

“Of course I did.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

The question caught you off guard, diving in so deep so quickly as you were still dripping into his lap. Gazing into his eyes, and the profound sadness you found there, you spoke a thousand words all at once. Wanted you, got lonely, took the next best thing. You could see it in his face; he understood.

“We need distance,” he sighed. An ironic thing to say, given where he was mere minutes ago. “If we’re not going to date. If we don’t trust each other.”

“But tonight…?” you didn’t finish the sentence, letting it play out in each of your heads.

He didn’t reply, only lifting you off of him, the two of you haphazardly pulling yourselves back together, and he lead you by the hand up to his room.

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unhealthyfanobsession · 7 months

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Would u consider a prompt where Nesta has given in and agrees to training and helping them with shit blah blah and Cassian although concerned about Nestas sudden submission one night finds her crying and try’s to comfort her and she’s like absolutely not and is almost like afraid of him

I heard it’s Nessian week? Why not take some prompts!

She could feel him standing outside her door. Every night, she could feel him. Standing outside her door, not making a single movement. Prison guard or nervous teenage boy, who could tell the difference. It was the not knowing that terrified her. Was he out there sharpening a sword or ringing sweaty palms together.

Preparing to hurl insults or confessions?

Which did she dread more?

At least the insults were honest.

Nesta’s entire body froze when thick knuckles rapped so gently she would not have heard any noise with human ears. Quickly, she wiped her nose and dried her eyes on the sheets beneath her. Tucking fabric awkwardly under her hip to hide the water mark.

“The House already sent in dinner.”

“I figured. Can I come in?”

“You have made it very clear that you can do whatever you like when it comes to removing my freedoms. I don’t see why privacy would be any different.

Nesta swore the wood on the door separating them thickened about two feet inside of Cassian’s pause.

“I won’t open the door without your permission.”

How gallant. “Will you continue standing there until I let you in?”

“I-” Cassian paused. So unlike him, to be at a loss for words. “Let me come in this once and I will not return to your door unless invited.”

“Is that a bargain?”

Silence again.

“Just a promise. Unless-”

“Come in.” Nesta did not need any more of Cassian inked into her skin than she already had.

Nesta always felt so small in his presence. In every meaning of the word. Now, watching Cassian fuel his wings to step through her door, she felt positively minuscule in the middle of this massive bed that was the size of the entire cottage she lived in for years.

“Why do you cry?” The question was so ernest that Nesta almost softened.

“Why do you not?” She asked with genuine curiosity. “After all you have seen, the wars and pain. How do you not weep every day?”

Cassian stepped closer, hand twitching at his side. Nesta shifted farther back in the bed and he stopped. “Are you afraid of me?”

“I am afraid of never being free again.” The more time she spent with him the greater chance she said something to infuriate him and was made to start back at square one. This was a game of endurance.

“Because there is still so much to live for.” Cassian said quietly. “Because there is more good in this world than bad.” Nesta’s face made it clear that she did not agree. “Because the good is worth fighting for,” Cassian amended. “I do not cry over the bad because there is still good. Because … crying doesn’t change anything.” Ah. There it was.

“Perhaps it isn’t about changing.” What was so wrong with simply … feeling. Mourning.

“You feel as though we trapped you? That we are trying to force happiness on you.”

“Not happiness,” Nesta looked out over the Sidra, finding more solace in its nearly black depths than in his golden eyes. “Utility, I suppose would be a better word.”

“Purpose,” Cassian half growled.

“And what is your purpose, general? Lead Rhys’ armies? Fight Rhys’ wars?”

“At least I fight for something.”

He would never understand. He could never understand that a person may want to live their life without fighting. Even love was a fight to him.

“You are addicted to fighting battles you cannot win.”

“And yet here I stand. Alive and breathing after so many impossible battles.”

Nesta snapped her gaze back to his at that. “Your swords and siphons will win no battles here.”

“You are not a battle, Nesta.” Satisfied by her reaction, Cassian smirked, “it has never been my intention to fight you.

“What is your intention, Cassian?” Nesta’s shoulders curled in with exhaustion. How long could they keep having this same fight. Keep running in circles around whatever this was.

“I have no idea.” Cassian’s honesty took all of the air out of the room. “This isn’t about my intentions. It isn’t about what I want.”

“How big of you.”

“Everything about me is big, sweetheart.” And just like that, crystal vulnerability cracked into a sparkling mist as equilibrium returned. Dirty jokes and rolled eyes and no answers.

There were worse games to play, Nestasupposed.

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #acosf #cassian #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses

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sebsxphia · 2 years

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Jake's biggest fear is loosing you. There is no one else for him but you. While your dogfight skills rival his, he still worries about you every time you get in the sky. He knows things go wrong for even the best pilots and the hunk of metal can be unpredictable. The promise in wedding bands and verbally repeated often is enough to trust that you'll always come back down to him, and him to you.

One phone call and Jake feels like his world has collapsed.

A faulty operating system and a jammed ejection handle left you with broken ribs and a fractured leg and a concussion.

What Jake didn't expect was the aftermath of almost loosing you. He couldn't picture his life without you, but for a moment. He had to.

After surgery, two weeks in a stiff hospital bed and a slow healing process, you were home.

Staring at you sleeping used to be a comforting past time, but he can see the pain contorting in your brows. Even if you say you feel fine, he picks out the shake in your voice when you shift in covers. Listening to you cry in pain as you try to sit up on your own makes him want to vomit. He can hear through every lie saying that you are fine and that it doesn't even hurt much. Everything seems to be a constant reminder of the feeling of the blood draining from his limbs. The beeping of the hospital. The pale look on the Squadron's faces as they enter the room.

He hears you frustratedly on the phone try and argue your grounded status. You are stubborn and think you are healing faster than you truly are. But Jake will be there to catch you when you try to stand on your bad leg or go up the stairs even when doctors ordered against. He'll rub your back muscles as you try to get through the cramps of whiplash. He struggles with not being able to do anything that just hold you and try to distract you from the pain. but the relief of having you in his arms is overwhelming

Even months or years later. He'll trace the scars and place gentle kisses over them. Holding you extra tight at night after a close call or a moment of panic.

-@sandbarbirdie 🥊

ouchie <3

BIRDIE PLEASE

jake always knew his biggest fear would be loosing you, but he never took into account the emotional aftermath of nearly loosing you. he thought he would be over the moon and happy. of course he’s happy because you’re in his arms again, but he feels relief that you’re alive more than anything.

the long months he spent taking care of you never leave him and he still automatically does things for you a year on. he’s there to wake up first and coming to your side of the bed to help you out, but standing back when he remembers you can walk fine now.

he reaches out his hand when you get into the shower (you still take it because you appreciate the sweet gesture none the less). he brings your coffee and breakfast to the living room in the morning, but remembers you sleep upstairs now.

his touch is still gentle with you and he finds himself mindlessly tracing the scars when your legs rest on him as you watch a movie. he was used to patching them up all the time.

if you ever get into another close call, he’s kissing your scars softly and whispering against your ear, “i’m so relieved you’re okay, my sweetheart. i couldn’t loose you again.”

he didn’t technically loose you the first time, but it felt like he lost you.

ouchie!

thank you so so much for this incredible angsty thought my beloved birdie!! i will forever be grateful for our angsty brainwaves!! 💌🫶🏼💖

#💌you’ve got mail #sandbarbirdie #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x you #hangman x you

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runwithwolvcs · 9 months

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Hold Me Down

I’ve never been more thankful for a spare class, even though I know it was given to me out of pity. It gives me time to catch up on the school work I’ve been slacking on between being in the hospital and all these incessant nightmares.

Though today, I have spent it daydreaming. It's been nearly a week since I’ve seen Paul and it is starting to take a toll on me mentally.

Kim had said there had been issues over the weekend and I still haven't heard from him, nor has he been home.

I spot the one person I’ve been meaning to talk to walk out of the science building and know that now would be the best time, considering I’ve got no wolves hovering around me to piss her off.

“Leah, wait!” I call after her, leaving my belongings behind to chase after her.

The older woman turned back with a look of annoyance, “What do you want?”

“I just thought maybe we could catch up, it's been a while.” I say softly.

Leah shifts her weight from one foot to the other, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “Have you finally come to your senses?”

“About what?” I furrow my brows.

“Don’t act stupid. About Sam!” Leah snapped at me, “You’re one of them now! My mom told me Paul wouldn’t even leave your side when you were in the hospital, she said it was cute.”

She spit out the word cute as if it were the most disgusting thing she had heard, before continuing her rant, “By the way, a dog attack? Everyone else may have bought that, but I’m not.”

I folded my arms across my chest, this was not the way I wanted this conversation to go. Leah and I never fight, but I’m not going to let her spew hate about Paul, or the rest of the pack for that matter, “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you should’ve taken my advice and just left him alone. Now look at you, lying for him!” She practically shouted at me.

“I’m not lying!” I said, matching her energy, “You don’t know him like you think you do.”

“No, but I know you. You’re too empathetic.” Leah said, scrunching her nose up. I frown at her judgement. She wasn't complaining about my empathy when I was the shoulder she was crying on about Sam.

“What? Do you want me to be more like you?” I shot back, adding, “At least I can forgive people when they deserve it.”

Leahs jaw dropped, “You think Sam deserves it? Fuck you.”

“I’m not talking about Sam! I could care less if you forgive him.” I rolled my eyes. Sam was complicated, I know that now. Between turning into a giant wolf, and imprinting on Emily, it was a recipe for disaster. I don’t agree with him just straight up ignoring Leah, and getting Paul to do the same to me, but I’m sure being the alpha of a pack with no one to guide him, is a stressful job.

“Then who?” She asked, placing her hands on her hips in an annoyed stance.

“Me!” I nearly shouted, “I used to be able to talk to you about anything, I still want to! But you’re pushing your hatred for Sam onto me. It’s not fair.”

“You ditched me for him.” Leah accused and now it was my turn for my jaw to drop. I hadn’t been around, sure, but I was still figuring things out with Paul and then the whole hospital situation didn’t leave really any room for time with Leah, but she never even messaged me. I would have responded, I always do.

“I didn’t, I never would. It’s just complicated because of Paul, but I think you would like him if you got to know him. The way I know him.” I tried to explain, but Leah just scoffed. The onslaught of tears was coming, I could feel them. I felt like I was breaking up with my best friend. This hurt more than Tessa dropping me because of the gang rumor, which, now that I’ve thought about it, she probably had a hand in spreading.

Leah sneered, “Fat chance of that happening. I’m not running in that crowd.”

I nod, wiping the first tear to fall. There was no use in arguing with her. Leah was as stubborn as she was loyal, I’m just no longer on the list of people she keeps close.

“Guess I’ll see you around then..” I mumbled tearfully.

“Kia,” She said softly, “I’ll be here when you need it. It may seem like he's into you now, but he will kick you to the curb just like Sam did to me.”

I shook my head, knowing that wasn’t true. Oh, how I wish I could tell her their secret. I sigh and sniffle as I say, “He won’t.”

“I’ll see you around, Kia, you’re bodyguards waiting for you.” Leah said snarkily before turning on her heels. I looked over my shoulder to see Paul standing at the picnic table I had been doing homework at. A frown gracing his face as I walked towards him. I quickly wiped the tears that fell onto my cheeks.

“She doesnt know whats she talking about,”Paul said as I reached him, shaking his head as he mutters, “Leahs just a miserable--”

“She's my friend!” I cry, cutting him off and wrapping my arms around myself as the onslaught of tears finally comes.

Paul immediately pulled me in for a bear hug, “It's okay. She’ll see soon enough, mi estrella.”

“Estrella?” I question, not knowing the meaning of the Spanish word.

“Star.”He tells me, before placing a kiss on my hairline, “My favourite astrologer.”

I let myself sink into him more with a soft sigh. I never knew one person could make me feel so at peace, whenever I’m with Paul, he knows exactly how to take away my pain. Even if it's just for a little while. I tilt my head upwards to rest my chin on his chest, “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too.” Paul grinned down at me, his hand leaving my hip to travel the length of my spine, “S’happy I can finally touch you again. That photo wasn’t doing you justice.”

“Nu uh, we need to talk about what happened.” I tell him. As much as I would love to hop in his truck and head to our little place of solace, he got himself in trouble. He hadn’t told me on the phone when he called, but Kim had messaged me the day after to let me know about his quick temper while I was gone.

She had said that Paul almost let his temper get the best of him while off hunting some vampire in the area, and then lost at Sam in his own home for not doing more to keep them off our land. I understand why, he usually had front row seats to my nightmares. The star of them is a single vampire with blood red eyes. I tried to keep them a secret, until Paul had forced me to tell him, thinking maybe he could help with telling the difference between what was real, and what wasn’t.

He grimaced and looked over my head, “Right now?”

“Kim told me,” I said softly “I just want to know your point of view.”

“I missed you.” He murmured, looking back down at me. I could see the disappointment in his eyes.

I stroked his cheekbone gently, “I missed you too.”

“When you’re not around, I feel…God, this sounds fucking stupid.” He grumbled with a shake of his head before letting go of me and sitting on the picnic bench. Paul was quick to pull me back into his arm and into his lap.

I brush his overgrown hair from his eyes, “Hey, don’t say that. I want to know how you feel, good or bad, you can talk to me.”

“I know. I’m trying.” He told me sincerely. I nodded encouragingly and he continued, “I feel like I don’t have an anchor..Nothing to hold onto when things get too…intense.”

“I understand, Paul.”

“As soon as it happened, all I thought about was you. What would you say to me? It helped a bit, but it wasn’t the same.” He opened up honestly, more than I had expected from him. Paul had gotten used to channelling his anger to his wolf, he had said that's what Sam had encouraged him to do before he had imprinted on me. Now, he's been asked to do a complete 180. “I guess..I sometimes worry that I’m disappointing you.”

“Me?” I asked, not sure why he would think that. It's almost impossible for him to disappoint me. For someone who had claimed he wasn’t ‘the relationship’ prior to the imprint, he was doing a hell of a lot better at it then I am. Even before, he always wanted to go do things together, I was fine just sneaking through his window. Neither of us are good at being vulnerable, but if I ask, he delivers, everytime.

“You were so happy when Sam finally said I didn’t need supervision anymore, and then I lost it. I hurt you.” He frowned at the memory, “It’s like I’m back at square one.”

I shake my head and hold his cheeks to bring his eyes back to mine, “That’s not true. I am so proud of you, okay? The little things matter too.”

“I don’t know. I’m working on it though, I promise.” Paul dips his head forward and pecks my lips, as if he's sealing that promise.

“Can I be honest with you?” I ask, and he nods as he pulls back, “I know you don’t like talking about it with me and I get it.You want us to be as normal as can be. But what you do for the tribe, would take a toll on anyone. That's why you have a pack. Lean on them when you need it, I’m sure they feel the same way you do.”

Pressing a kiss to my forehead, before murmuring, “I feel like the luckiest man alive with you in my arms.”

“I know the feeling.” I said as I tuck my head into the crook of his neck, placing a gentle kiss to the side of it, “You’re like a giant heating pad.”

He chuckled, “You know, I can feel when your cramps are bad.”

“Can you?” I sigh in contentment.

“It's dull, like everything else I feel from you. But I know you’re in pain.” He explains before he slides his hand to my lower back, spreading his palm over my spine. “It's always your back.”

“Remember when you used to think I was overexaggerating?” I poke at him with a teasing smile.

“I’m sorry.” He said genuinely, “I’ll make it up to you in a couple of days,,”

“A couple of days?” I ask, before moving to straddle him.

“Right now?” he wiggled his eyebrows, “I’m not afraid of a little blood.”

“Gross,” I cringe at the thought, “How ‘bout a kiss?”

“I’ll give you as many kisses as you’d like, pretty girl.” He mumbled before bringing his hand to the back of my neck to hold me in place as he brushed his lips against mine. I instantly bring my hands to his hair, indulging in the feeling that I’ve missed so much. One thing about Paul and I, we will always be a physical couple. Though there is the fine line we have never crossed, which is what to label ourselves. To everyone else, it looks like we are already dating and maybe we are. But the conversation has never happened, and I’m not sure it ever will. We’re partners. Have been for a while, and that will never change.

“I don’t want you to cut your hair.” I mumbled, tangling my fingers into the ends on the nape of his neck before bringing my lips back to his.

“You prefer when I'm neat.” He tutted against my lips.

I blush at his statement, before curling into his body for more heat.“Not the hair on your head, doofus.”

He chuckled, “I know, baby. I’ll keep it as long as I can manage.”

“Just enough to braid,” I suggested, “I miss doing that.”

“It's getting there,” he said, shaking his hair wildly. I couldn't help but giggle as I brushed it away from his eyes.

“So handsome.” I murmur, before bringing his head down and pressing my lips back to his once, “I could kiss you all day,”

“I won't stop you.” Paul said, squeezing my hip. “I have Friday night off, want to go to the look out?”

“We’ll need more blankets this time, my back has just recovered.” I said teasingly as I stroked the side of his face. We had found the lookout after an evening that went awry, both of our fathers had come home, leaving us with no bedroom. We drove around for a few hours before we found it. I remember joking that that was where he took all his favourite girls, and he promised it would just be our spot. Paul had even divulged in the information that he had cleaned the bed of his truck thoroughly, calling it brand new and untouched.It was loaded with blankets and pillows because he had been watching the weather, after I had told him I wanted to go stargazing at the beach. Though the lookout was a way better spot. No tourists, with an amazing few of the water below.

I think that's when I first realised I was falling for him, despite our no feelings agreement.

“I’ve got something even better.” He whispered before Paul nipped my ear gently.

“Hey, love birds! Not on school property!” Emily called from the window of her classroom. I giggled uncontrollably, mentally adding the picnic tables to the list of places Emily has told us PDA is unacceptable.

“She's everywhere, I swear.” Paul muttered, he was not a fan of all the rules and regulations of where and when he could touch all because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself at a pack dinner.

#paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #twilight wolf pack #paul lahote x oc

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ruthlesslistener · 1 year

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Alright, I rediscovered that snippet that anon was asking about with Herrah tending to a gravid Pale King (as a twist on the common interpretation of the Deepnest Deal- in this one, Herrah is trans), and I added a bit more polish. It's still kind of rough, but eh, that's why its a snippet.

TW for mentions of breeding seasons, dysphoria around childbearing (Herrah), and hints to past child death (also Herrah). There's also some observations of weight gain (PK), but it's due to hormone shifts and a healthier feeding schedule, so it's depicted in a positive light.

Faint movement along the edges of the nest, blankets shifting without giving any indication of the wyrm within. Then, muffled slightly by the sheets, came a deep, rattling hiss, the high-toned snarl buzzing uncomfortably over the low, nearly inaudible undertones. It was a sound unlike the cry of any bug or beast, strong enough to vibrate the weaving below her, strong enough to force her to a standstill in her own home.

She'd bred this. She’d pinned this monster down against her bed and she’d bred him until they both knew that her seed would take, that he would grow heavy with her child. She knew, under the mire of instinct, that the creature under the blankets did not currently desire any harm to her. She knew that the person possessing such a death-rattle was likely still half asleep and territorial because of it, and would spent the next hour after eating curled up in a mortified ball with his tailfin flipped over his head, all because he’d dared to act like the animal he was inside a den of beasts.

Still, it took her a bit longer than she’d like to unstick her claws from the floor and walk forward, humming a low warning tone to let him know she was coming. The hissing stopped, likely in recognition of her voice, and yet the muzzle that peeped out from under the thick cover layers was curled in a clear grimace of disapproval, wicked sharp fangs gleaming with the soft glow of the kingslight. Still wild, still just as ready to tear her to bits, though the growling was beginning to peter out into a low, irritated buzz.

"I brought dinner," she said softly, and held up the dirtcarver to the nest; she did not want to speak too loudly, for she knew that his headaches had grown worse, despite him pretending otherwise. For an apex, immortal predator, he was awfully fond of hiding his discomfort. "Fresh as it can get without still trying to bite my claws off. Come, eat."

The muzzle withdrew, then reappeared on the other side of the nest, along with the entire rest of the Pale King. His jaws were clamped shut, head angled in the perfect picture of bruised dignity, but she could see the way that the faint film of his third eyelid flicked up over his eyes, the slight bristling hunch to his shoulders that indicated he felt unwell as he slipped off of the bed, murmuring a near-intelligible word of thanks. She watched him closely as he meandered to the table, keeping an eye out for any dizziness, but he remained steady even as he curled up onto his favorite chair, pressing his frontmost fists to his eyes in a display of weakness that she doubted he would have shown her three weeks earlier. Sharing a heat and the fears of what was to come next took some fangs out of the jaws of hatred she’d held for him before, and despite his stance as a literal deity, the holier-than-thou arrogance in his voice had greatly diminished the longer they shared a den.

She plopped the dirtcarver down before him, catching the way his fangs flexed at its scent, then set about preparing her own relatively modest meal of roasted mushrooms, salted meats, and sweet tea with honey. By now, she knew better than to stare him down as he dug into his meal, but her nerves wouldn't let her do otherwise, anticipation and worry knotting up in her gut even as his neckplates began to undergo their warning puff, the spines on the back of each plate going from a low ridge on the back of his neck to a formidable hook. It was partially instinct that drove her, yes- but there was some lingering paranoia from before her widowhood that demanded she watch closely as he ate, to ensure that he got what he needed to feed both him and the eggs. Her old mate-

Well. At least they didn't have to worry much about morning sickness. He had begrudgingly admitted to some nausea, after Midwife had threatened him with the various dangers of not being upfront with her while gravid, but his body did not seem to be willing to give up on whatever nutrients that were available to him. Indeed, he had grown notably stockier since he had come to her in the midst of his heat, body and tail filled out more in muscle and fat. She did not know if he had been underweight before, or if it was common for all egg-bearing wyrms to be so bulky (well, she supposed that he had told her that the closest approximation for 'female' in a wyrm's language was 'largest deathbringer', which gave her some idea of the answer to that, she supposed), but she knew for certain that he hadn't been wasting any of the meat she'd been feeding him. His tail alone had nearly doubled in width, going from a wiry whip of scales to something that looked like it could punch a hole in her wall with little effort, and though he rarely let her touch her outside of mandatory examinations, she knew that the swelling around his broodpouch wasn’t because of the eggs, as he was far too squishy for that to be the case. It was just fat- fat, and a little bit of muscle, put there by a steady diet of dirtcarver and garpede larvae as well as the apparent physical exertion required for building a nest. She’d certainly gotten a taste of his strength when she’d had to drag him out from behind the scrollshelf, and he had sunk his claws into the wall to prevent her from pulling him away from what his mind had apparently decided was the perfect spot to hide their young. He’d spent the next day and a half nursing his injured pride, while she’d slapped some fresh silk over the tears and set about gathering newer, heavier blankets to pile on him to prevent a recurrence.

(She also knew that his mate was quite pleased with the transformation, though she wasn't quite sure if it was because of his healthier bulk, or the fact that he was currently carrying her young. The White Lady, she knew, had been aching to breed her husband for centuries, a casual fact that she had mentioned over tea, and she did not seem to care about the fact that she wasn't the one who had left him in such a state, as long as she got frequent updates about his health.)

(Herrah herself found this most agreeable, and yet part of her envied the casualness and ease of the Pale Gods. To them, the conception of a child was as easy as breathing, rather than the nightmarish war that she had struggled with for years. Granted, the Pale King was far touchier about the subject than his wife, but there was still a dismissiveness to the whole bargain that had only started to fade quite recently, as if he had thought of himself as merely renting out his body instead of cultivating new life within himself. It was only now that the headaches had started that some of that detachment had started to disperse, as if the reality of the situation was only now starting to sink in.)

(She could relate. This whole political mess was something she still almost couldn’t believe was happening, were it not for the wyrm in her bed and the return of her desperate, aching desire to be a mother. And the end of his smarmy griping abou tit.)

Speaking of which. "How's your headache? I've got some brews with painkiller properties that Midwife claims to be safe enough for now, if it starts to be too much. I can make it a concentrated slurry or put it in a tea, if you’d like"

He raised his head from the belly of the dirtcarver, mandibles dripping blue, and fixed her with a gaze that could either translate to a tired, hostile glare, or a stare of wary relief. From what she was starting to know of him, it was likely to be the latter, though he had recently started to get irritable enough for it to be the former. "I am fine. I have experienced worse, and this phase does not seem to be permanent. I will sleep it off soon enough."

That was the answer she expected, but not one that she was hoping for. She let out a tired sigh, crossing her foreclaws together, and leaned closer to him, keeping her voice low and calm. The tips of his wings rose slightly, but he did not snap at her, like he would have before they forged their alliance. "There's a difference between bearing a pain you cannot alleviate and forcing yourself through something unnecessary, Wyrm. For the sake of our clutch, I would prefer their father to not be dealing with anything that might obscure his reading of their health. Nor do I want to report to his wife that he has been suffering needlessly, when we have solutions to that suffering readily available."

A slow blink, alien membranes clouding those pure black eyes before they were fixed upon her again, revealing nothing. Though his face remained impassive, she caught the slight shifting of his robe, the way his lower arms wrapped protectively around his abdomen. He was not far enough along to show yet, not really, but it had her heart racing with giddy glee all the same- it was real, it was real, she was to be a mother and it was real. "I have tolerated far worse, and sense that it is only a symptom of my...condition. I do not see the benefit of treating a pain that holds no danger to the body, much less when it will fade away given enough time."

"You're missing the point, Wyrm. The point is that neither of us want you to suffer." She sighed, took a sip of tea, and pointed at him over the table with one skewered mushroom. His expression had changed, now to one of slight disbelief; reading him was so much easier now, with him dwelling within her den. "We may have been enemies once, but we are allies now, and you are currently in the process of building my children. You're still insufferable, yes, but I don't enjoy watching you shuffle around my home squinting miserably because your hormones are going on a rampage. Nor do I want to lose my hand to you snapping at me, especially since I have told you many times before that only I am authorized to enter these rooms while you are gravid. Even Midwife must get past me to get to you, and she is more of an expert on this than either of us combined. Don't make an ass of yourself when you don't need to, and don't make me get the White Lady."

Now the surprise had faded to chagrin. He picked up his own cup of tea and took a long, deep drink, looking everywhere in the den but directly at her. There was still a piece of dirtcarver intestine clinging to his mandibles, somewhat ruining the aura of nobility that he was likely trying his damned best to give off."...I shall consider it."

She sighed in response, but decided to take whatever little victory she could get. Just a few more months before he was due to lay, and then she’d be free to kick him out of the den to focus on her eggs. She would be a mother again, weaving the silk for their first cloaks while she waited for them to pip out of their eggsack. It had been so long, and yet her body knew exactly what to do, phantom instincts urging her forth even though she had been born lacking the ability to carry them herself.

She could only hope that these would last longer than the first.

#hollow knight #herrah the beast #the pale king #pale king #my writing #my drabbles #brief mention of nsft occurrances without any actual nsft #also pk wasnt starved or anything beforehand its just something that happens if a wyrm ends up gravid instead of making others gravid #they need to eat more often to develop the eggs and need to store more fat for after the eggs hatch #though admittedly pk was probs somewhat underweight simply bc he treats his body like a machine and likely forgets to eat sometimes

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wellthebardsdead · 9 months

Text

Clockwork Heart pt25

Part 24 here

———

*Agonised screaming of thousands of voices growing louder and drawing in silently like the pulsing of a heart*

Wyrm: *floating in a darkened void surrounded by the shifting cacophony of terror and pain* be… quiet…

???: Its dark!! It’s dark!!!

???: I can’t see! It burns!

???: You lied to us! They lied to all of us!!!

???: MAMAAAA! MAMAAAAA!!!

???: I can’t breathe!

???: it hurts! Get off of me!!

???: help us!! Help us!!!

Wyrm: *opens his eyes as a burning heat surrounds his body to see the broken construct of the brass tower staring back at him, it’s face half submerged in the magma of red mountain and floating above it, the heart of lorkhan, it’s red form writhing and twisting, revealing itself to be made of the bodies of thousands of dwemer, all of them bound to their creation and the heart they abused in making it, all of them screaming, clawing, kicking and twisting about in an eternal struggle to get free from what they’d done* be quiet… *grits his teeth watching as they ignore him*

“BE QUIET!!!”

The heart of lorkhan: *all halt in place, as if the heat had stopped beating, all of the souls bound to it, turning their gaze to him in silence, staring, acknowledging his presence, his voice breaching the veil between waking and dreaming in that moment* …

Wyrm: *staring back at them, weeks, months, years worth of vitriolic anger built up within him bubbling to the surface like blood from an open cut. Anger that he’d spent so long trying to learn who he is, anger of what the dwemer did to start all of this in the first place, anger at the heart of lorkhan itself for causing him and those he cares about so much pain, and anger at himself, at sotha sil, for their part in it as well* …I. Hate. You.

The heart of Lorkhan: … *suddenly begins to murmur and rumble as the souls making up its mass cry out and whisper and groan and whine like wounded animals, their one salvation despised them, the one they were relying on, the one sotha sil promised them. Their movements growing more and more agitated like maggots in a frenzy devouring flesh, each other, it didn’t matter, they had to move they had to break free, their voices joining in unison as the heart pulsates with a shockwave that could level cities and ripple oceans* Make. Him. WHOLE!

???: Seht?

Wyrm: *jumps and opens his eyes to see himself not in the volcano anymore, but instead a rather comfortable looking room, and before him a familiar figure floating in a lotus pose before him, vivec* what?

Vivec: *sighs and looks back down at the script he was writing* I said I understand your concerns. But there is nothing I can do about it, not now at least.

Wyrm: *realising he’s witnessing another memory as sotha sils voice speaks through him* If you don’t do something now there won’t be another chance to act, why won’t you listen to me?!

Vivec: the heart is out of our reach, Seht. I’m already too weakened… I’m not asking you to believe me. Nor will I blame you if you don’t. But I understand your plan. And in the future from now I will help you fix what we’ve done… but right now, I cannot help you or our people, beyond trying to maintain order as I can.

Wyrm: There won’t be a future- i- Ugh. Forget it. You and Ayem are as delusional as eachother. If neither of you will help me then I’ll do it myself. *turns and leaves as the memory fades and burns up like a sheet of paper flaking away to ash, but not before vivec gets his final word*

Vivec: I’ll help you when the dragons return. *smiles knowingly*

Wyrm: What? *looks back at him and blinks awake to find himself in his bedroom, tucked safely in his bed surrounded by nearly the entirety of the collage faculty, with his father, Enthir, Neht and Voryn all huddled by his side* h-huh?…

Voryn: *visibly sweating and trembling from trying to pull him out of another nightmare* he’s- he’s awake-

Nerevar: *holds him close* my dreamer, lay down… *shifts him up onto the bed beside Wyrm before taking the young dunmers hand* can you hear us wyrm?

Enthir: *wiping Wyrms face with a damp cloth* come back to us prince-

Urag: *eyes red with tears as he grips Wyrms Pearl eye in his hand* What were you thinking pup?… why would you do something so reckless?

Nerevar: and what made you use your thuum? Did something happen?

Enthir: and why was your head bleeding when we found you at the edge of town?!

Voryn: Enough.

Everyone: *goes quiet before finally noticing Wyrms expression, the dunmer looking down at his hand, still being held by nerevar. Tears pouring down his face as he avoids their gaze, looking so ashamed of himself for making them worry, for being careless, but ultimately embarrassed that he was to weak he couldn’t even make it to the stables* …

Voryn: *sighs with a shuddery breath as pain continues to grip his heart* He’s still hurting… please, give him some space… we can ask questions later once he’s had a chance to recover…

Urag: *nods sadly before looking back at the others, a room filled with people Wyrm considers family* you heard him…

Tolfdir: *nods at him before looking at the other professors and clearing his throat* Well, now that that’s sorted, tea anybody?

Everyone: *nods, murmuring amongst themselves before walking out leaving only them, and Savos Aren present*

Savos: … *walks to the beside slowly before stopping* …Ancano assaulted you. Didn’t he?

Wyrm: *looks up at him, eye glassy and staring almost into his soul* … *nods* he… grabbed… me…

Savos: *staring at the patch on the side of the smaller dunmers head where they’d found him bleeding* Well. I now have sufficient evidence at last to enact justice then… I’ll see to it he’s dealt with accordingly.

Enthir: *gritting his teeth as he turns and glares at him* You should have dealt with him when this all first started! All of this is your fault! Wyrm is in this position because of you!!!

Savos: *sighs* if you say so. *turns to leave not wanting to put up with Enthirs justified anger towards him*

Wyrm: …why did you send my friends to the Labyrinthian?… to die like you let your friends?…

Savos: *blood freezing in his veins, finally realising why Wyrm never liked him, realising he knew he was the one to blame for the other students disappearances that year* … *looks back at him slowly and swallows a lump in his throat* to gather an artefact that could cause you great harm before ancano can get his hands on it… I did not send them there, they went on their own accord, and threatened me into giving them the key… Lord Nerevar will tell you the same.

Wyrm: … *slowly turns his gaze to nerevar and pulls his hand away from his grasp* …You lied…

Nerevar: I- no Wyrm I didn’t I just-

Voryn: He didn’t want you to get hurt anymore than you already we-

Wyrm: *glares up at him* you lied…

Enthir: Pearl it’s ok-

Wyrm: *gritting his teeth as he stares him down too* liar…

Urag: … *gently takes his hand in his own* …pup?…

Wyrm: *looks down at his hand but doesn’t acknowledge his touch* …I want to be alone now papa… please… leave me alone…

Urag: *heart breaking seeing his son so destroyed, so far gone from his joyful beam of sunshine* …alright pup… I’ll be in the arcanum if you need me. *shakily gets up with Enthirs help* you two as well. *looks at voryn & nerevar* let’s leave him be.

Nerevar: but what if he-

Voryn: Neht… he needs space… *reaches up hugging his arms around his neck to be lifted up* we hurt him…

Nerevar: *furrows his brow seeing the pain on Wyrms face, and the anger in his eye* …I’m sorry… *lifts voryn into his embrace and carries him out the door following Enthir and Urag*

Savos: *watches them go by before looking at Wyrm one final time, then following them out as well* …

Wyrm: … *lays his head back into the pillows, hugging himself tight* …teacup…

*meanwhile*

Taliesin: *gasps as his eyes snap open to the darkened interior of the labyrinthian, the stagnant air filling his lungs as he shoots upright and his hand clutching his chest as he comes back to the waking world, realising he’s alive* Wyrm- *coughs and holds his head remembering what happened, estormo bringing the butt of the staff of Magnus down on his head… the staff that he should have taken… the staff now mysteriously laying beside him and his two unconscious friends* what on nirn… Kaidan- Inigo!! *shifts onto his knees and starts shaking both of them* wake up! Wake up please wake up!!

Inigo: *jolts awake gasping for air and slapping Kaidan in the face with his arm* I’m alive- *coughs from the dusty air* My friends are you hurt-

Kaidan: *groans from being rudely awoken and sleeping on the stone floor* arghhh Whot the fock?… SHIT- *suddenly sits up right grabbing taliesins face and looking him over in a panic as he sees the dried blood caked on his skin* Don’t move let me- huh?

Taliesin: *face smooshed in his hands, blinks at him in confusion* please tell me I’m still pretty after estormos attack on my visage-

Kaidan: I?… you’re covered in blood but there’s no injuries anywhere on you.

Taliesin: what? *feels his face before looking at Kaidans as well, then feeling around the blood matted fur on inigo’s head and getting the same result* I- the staff is still here and we’re healed what… what happened?

Kaidan: Doesn’t matter, we’ll figure it out as we travel. *gets up helping the other two to their feet before grabbing the staff and wrapping it in his cape* if we get focking jumped again because of this damned thing I’m going to go berserk.

Taliesin: good use that energy on them next time instead.

Kaidan: They hit me with some strange magic damn it! I know we don’t get along but id never willingly attack you.

Taliesin: I know, and I’m sorry for putting you in a chokehold to get you off inigo.

Kaidan: aye, don’t mention it, I’m sorry I went below the belt inigo.

Inigo: *remembering why he can taste vomit now and feeling the pain between his legs* d-dont mention it- can one of you carry me to the horses please- *coughs*

Taliesin: *crouches down lifting the khajiit up onto his back without hesitation* let’s get back to the collage before ancano can do whatever it is he’s plannin-

*chime*

Taliesin: *looks back bewildered hearing a bell ring softly somewhere in the barrow, it’s ringing reminding him of velothi ceremonial bells he’d seen and heard on display in the grand library in Alinor* did you… hear that?

Kaidan: Might be that focking priest waking up again. Let’s move before we find out. *grabs his arm leading him from the maze like tomb*

*a few days later*

Wyrm: *still confined to his room and to his bed, quietly staring down at his book, eyes fixated on the pages with growing frustration that still nothing more has revealed itself* I know who I am, who I’m supposed to be… why won’t you let me read what I’m clearly supposed to know?

“Do you though?”

Wyrm: *shakes his head hearing his soul half whisper back to him, with a voice that he’d now come to know as sotha sils and yet, it wasn’t him, not fully him* what though?…

“Know who you are?”

Wyrm: *gritting his teeth* I know I’m annoyed with people being in my head who don’t belong there. *shakes his head harder before closing his book and hitting his forehead with it in frustration* UGHHH!

???: Wyrm stop that! You’ll hurt yourself-

Wyrm: *jumps as voryn suddenly takes the book from his hands* g-go away. *sniffles reaching for the book only for voryn to sit behind him on the bed and gently inspect his face to see if he hurt himself*

Voryn: *gently brushing his bangs back to see a red mark on his forehead from the impact of the hard cover* Oh Pearl…

Wyrm: *pulls away and turns his back on him again* g-go away, I hate this, I hate you, I hate nerevar! I hate sotha sil and I hate everything about this stupid book!! *grabs it and throws it hard against the wall making a page suddenly fly out of it and dance slowly onto the ground*

Voryn: *feeling hurt at his words but even more so as his heart hangs heavy with the stress and anger the young dunmer is bottling up inside* …I don’t blame you for your anger, Wyrm. *gently grasps his hair and pulls a comb from his pocket, brushing it slowly and carefully* And you’re allowed to be angry… we hurt you, we were only trying to protect you but in doing so we made you feel weak, and betrayed. I’m… glad to see you showing your frustrations, it means we can help you better this t-

Wyrm: I DONT WANT HELP! *chokes out a sob* I’m supposed to be the dragonborn! I’m supposed to be strong but I’m not! I don’t want help! I want to be able to help! But I can’t! I’m worthless! I’m weak! And every time I think I’m getting somewhere that stupid heart! That f-fucking book! And all those voices screaming! Screaming louder and louder and sotha sil! All of it keeps coming back and weakening me again!!! And again! And when I finally show strength, when I fight for myself… all I do is hurt everyone around m-me… I hurt papa, I hurt the soldiers in Helgen, I hurt the Psijic monks… and I keep hurting you… *sniffles hugging his knees to his chest* I can’t ever do anything right, nothing ever goes my way, and everyone always leaves me eventually… how can I protect everyone from alduin when I can’t even protect myself?…

Voryn: *sets the comb down and pulls him into his arms. Lifting his chin up to look at him* Do you really believe that Wyrm?… If you can’t protect yourself then explain how you fought off Ancano in the courtyard? Or Taliesins story of the dragon and the watch tower? Or how you set the troll on fire on high hrothgar? Do you doubt the greybeards belief in you?

Wyrm: *looks up at him before shaking his head sadly, already feeling remorseful for his words spoken in frustration and anger* …Wh-what do I do voryn?… I’m so afraid… I don’t know what to do…

Voryn: *dries his face with his sleeve and tucks a strand of hair behind the smaller elfs ear before offering him his hand* Let us help you, Wyrm, we can teach you… neht made a promise to you when you were a child after all.

Wyrm: *looks up at his hand and then back up at him as he slides his fingers into his, interlocking them before leaning in for a hug as he weeps openly into the older elfs robes* I’m- I’m s-sorry, I don’t h-hate you or- n-nerevar! I’m sorry!

Voryn: *smiles and strokes his hair as he holds him in arms* shhh, I know you didn’t mean it. I’m not upset. I- huh?

Mr wrench: *suddenly picks up the page and holds it out as if observing the strange text and patterns* … *suddenly begins rattling violently before a beam of light shines out from its ocular device, projecting a memory on the wall through the eyes of not sotha sil, but someone else*

Voryn: what on ni- *moves to cover Wyrms eyes as the image of sotha sils newly fully automated body appears in the vision, hanging suspended from the cables feeding his very life force into the city* dont lo- Wyrm!

Wyrm: *slides out of his grasp and shakily walks to the wall, staring up at the projection in amazement as he sees this form of sotha sil from another’s perspective, still alive, still breathing like the bellows to the furnace powering a great ship* its him, he’s… not dead yet I- *jumps a little hearing a voice play from the memory, one he recognised as vivecs*

Vivec: I knew what to expect coming to find you here, however seeing you now for myself is no less frightening all the same… *walks closer until he stands only a few feet away, sotha sil slowly raising up his head to look at him, his one living eye staring at him, through him, beyond him, into his very soul and mind and the lies that make up his being*

Sotha Sil: you… brought what I requested?…

Vivec: *nods and holds out sotha sils mask* …Ayem will come for you when I leave… I can stay and-

Sotha sil: no… it cannot be avoided… if she fails to kill me. Nerevar will do so instead…

Vivec: you’re certain it’s him then…

Sotha Sil: *nods slowly, the mechanical joints to his form clicking and twisting* it is as I told you… will you keep to me your promise then?…

Vivec: I will when the time comes.

Sotha Sil: that time is now, Vehk…

Vivec: Not yet. But it’ll come.

Sotha Sil: *sighs* never mind… I should have expected disappointment from you…

Vivec: warranted I suppose. *gently leans in giving him a soft, final kiss before placing his mask on him with care* For now, at least. *steps back and smiles* I’ll see you later, my friend… *turns and walks away, leaving seht alone in the core of his city as the vision suddenly blurs and fades, before changing to another memory, to Wyrms book resting on his desk, as a gloved hand slides the page in amongst the others*

Wyrm: *tilts his head in confusion before feeling his blood turn to ice as the vision moves showing him, himself, fast asleep in his bed as voryn sleeps soundly beside him* wh-what?

Voryn: *eyes wide and getting out of bed to grab Wyrm* NEREVAR!!!

Mr wrench: *suddenly rattles and bopples about violently as bolts and gears pop loose from their sockets and the projection fades before collapsing with a shattered soul gem*

Wyrm: m-mr wrench? *picks him up as voryn suddenly ushers him towards the door* what’s going on?

Nerevar: *hurries in with his hand on his blade hearing the fear in voryns voice* what’s going on?!

Voryn: Vivec! He’s here! He was in this room while we were sleeping! He’s after Wyrm!

*meanwhile*

Ancano: *standing within the midden, smirking as Estormo approaches with what he thinks is the staff of Magnus in his hands* I’m glad to see you’ve returned. I do hope you had no troubles? Three of them, perhaps?

Estormo: No trouble at all, they were easy to kill. *hands him the staff, only to pause in confusion as the illusion fades revealing a grotesque, oddly leathery spear* what on Nirn?…

Ancano: … *holds up the spear, his eyes staring at it as his face contorts with mounting anger* … *glares at estormo* …

Estormo: … *backs up, then turns to run only to be impaled from behind, the spear ripping through his uniform and out through his chest with a sickening cracking of ribs and ripping of flesh* Ugh- *coughs up blood as he attempts to let out a final scream, before going limp and collapsing as ancano lets go of the weapon letting him drop*

Ancano: *lightning crackling up his arms and flashing through his eyes and gritted teeth* Enough of this. To oblivion with the concordat! I’ll level this pathetic relic into the sea and take him as my prize! *stomps his foot down on estormos head as he marches over his body to the ladder, cracking his skull with his boot, letting it echo through the halls of the underdark, mixing with the chime of a bell*

#Wyrm dragonborn #sotha sil #voryn dagoth #nerevar #skyrim taliesin #Kaidan skyrim #inigo skyrim #Enthir #urag gro shub #ancano #estormo #skyrim

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nightmarecountry · 5 months

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He had shown him an almost gentle affection up to this point; rough hands, scouring fingers, yet never quite so devastating as the way he tore apart his prey. This night sees a shift in his once restrained behavior. Absence may see the heart grow fonder, for Severen it has made him savage. There is a hard sheen in cloudless blue, a focused, feral ferocity that pierces through flesh at a glance. “I’ve missed you”, comes a husked rasp, voice deep, growling through his bared fangs as the shadow born thing curls around this stray ray of light penetrating his darkness. “The way you say my name”, frost dusts its high cheekbones as cracked lips press near its skin, jagged nails scratching along its throat. As he presses his broad chest against its spine, the wild creature pulls the spawn back into his wraith-like form. “The way you bend”, nearly rabid, it licks the exposed portion of its flesh, “the way you break!” Hard points dig in, arms encircling into a crushing hold. His sunbeam is here and he will not miss a single moment of its golden glow.

Gone for seven nights, two of the first spent rotting in his cage to escape the foul moods of his master. Better to be out of sight and out of mind, let himself be locked away where he can't make things worse, but gods, the boredom. The empty of it all. Alone with his thoughts and his hunger for two days and nights, hoping Morpheus wouldn't come to see him, but wishing that they would.

For those two nights and every night after until this one he had thought incessantly of the monster that now shadows his free hours. Had known it would be waiting for him, sniffing around his usual haunts. Had feared somewhere deep inside himself that it might dare to come here and he would see it ripped apart at Morpheus' hands. Finally he could wait no longer and had slipped from the castle with no protest from his maker, though something in him sensed that Morpheus knew he was not only leaving to hunt and feed.

All that dread solidifies the moment they're together again--I shouldn't be here, we shouldn't be doing this--and then it simply melts into a different, preferable kind of apprehension. The beast is wild for him. It has missed him; it presses against his back like an animal, claws raking thin red lines along his throat, and the spawn cannot help itself. It tilts its head back against the thing's shoulder, dizzy with the force of its enthusiasm for him, letting itself be drawn in close, closer. After a week of being largely ignored by his creator, his monster's icy touch is a searing brand; his teeth feel as if they will leave jagged scars with how deeply they sink into flesh, for all that the Corinthian knows it does not--cannot--scar anymore. Not without considerable effort and repeated reopening of wounds.

It is just as well. Morpheus' wrath if his fledgling was marked by the beast would not bear thinking about.

As the Corinthian sags in its grip, eyes half-closed, its voice resounds in his head. The way you bend. It's holding too tightly, biting too hard, but there's no escape from its jaws. The way you break. The spawn keeps shuddering in its arms, nails digging into the thing's sinewy forearms as it drinks of him like it may never taste him again.

If the beast can hear anything at all over the rush of the spawn's blood and heart, he might hear the faintest, rattling rumble in its throat, more subtle vibration than true sound.

"I don't break," he mutters, hazily, eyes watering with pain. Drunk on proximity, torn between the kind of hurt that transmutes into a fucked up kind of pleasure he's been chasing in strangers for centuries, and pain that is simply pain, the kind most animals claw and cry to get away from.

The Corinthian grits its teeth, finally trying to pry away. It, too, hungers. "I would have come back to you sooner. I got... caught up."

#ic.#v: old things have old hungers #v: no such thing as indifference in my apathetic nature #savagecowboy #abuse mentions #[ hi dhoome. did you want whatever this is? you're getting it. ]#[ i cant explain to you how DIFFICULT it is to write him being this passive ]#[ he's just so fucking PLEASED TO BE WANTED. ]

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ladyhoneydee · 5 months

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30 Day Song(fic) Challenge: Day 9

Hello all! Today's prompt for my Song(fic) Challenge was "A song from your first ever concert", which is one I really liked! My first concert was the artist dodie, in 2019 during her tour for her EP Human. I'd been following her for four years at that point, and...ended up crying through a good 70% of the concert lol, including during the bops. For today's song, I ended up going with "Would You Be So Kind?"!

Head in the Clouds

Game: Skyward Sword, pre-canon

Pairing: Zelink

Word Count: 1140

Keywords: first love, lighthearted yearning, best friend banter

It had been growing worse and worse, lately. Whether or not he was around, she spent half of her time with her head in the clouds, and the other half so deeply in the moment that every little action struck her like lightning. It was stupid! This was her best friend, the person with whom she’d spent nearly every waking moment (and many unconscious ones, too) that she possibly could, since before she was actually capable of retaining memories. She shouldn’t be mooning after him like some music-drunk remlit. And yet, here she was.

Read the fic on Ao3, or under the cut!

He was doing it again.

They’d been studying together for the last two hours, poring over their textbooks for any relevant detail about flight trajectories and velocities and all the things they already knew how to do without putting big annoying words and numbers to it, thanks, sitting cross-legged on Zelda’s bedroom floor the same way they had since they were kids. And every once in a while, Link’s knee would brush hers and linger there.

And any thought she had in her head would fly right out the window.

It was so stupid! It was just a knee, for Hylia’s sake! Why was she over here thinking about how warm he was and how cozy he was and how firm the muscles of his leg felt against hers?! She wasn’t even touching any of his muscles, it was a knee! Which were notably bony! She was positively delusional.

Just as Zelda thought she might explode right then and there, he shifted again, and the pressure of his knee vanished. It wasn’t an unexpected movement—Link was restless at the best of times, and he’d been fidgeting all evening—but it invoked a lot of feelings for Zelda. Relief, but also…loss.

She wanted him to touch her. With more than just an accidental brush of his knee.

“Zel, do we really have to keep going?” Link yawned. “It’s getting pretty late.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t pull that one on me, sleepyhead. It’s not late, it’s just getting dark earlier.”

“Well, what about science? I heard that you’re not supposed to cram for a test, you’re supposed to study throughout the week and practice what you learned.”

“Well, Link, that would’ve been a fine idea if you’d started studying earlier, instead of needing me to force you to do it the day before our exam. What does science say about cramming versus not studying at all?”

He grimaced, but then chuckled. “It was worth a shot.”

“Uh-huh. Get back to reading, slacker.” Her eyes softened as her gaze darted over his messy hair and lovely, open face, and the affectionate smile resting on it. “Ten more minutes, and we can do some practice questions for a change of pace.”

“Yeees, Headmistress,” Link drawled. Despite his sarcasm, his attention obediently returned to his textbook.

Zelda tried to take her own advice, but she couldn’t keep her focus on the pages before her. It had been growing worse and worse, lately. Whether or not he was around, she spent half of her time with her head in the clouds, and the other half so deeply in the moment that every little action struck her like lightning. It was stupid! This was her best friend, the person with whom she’d spent nearly every waking moment (and many unconscious ones, too) that she possibly could, since before she was actually capable of retaining memories. She shouldn’t be mooning after him like some music-drunk remlit. And yet, here she was.

She snuck a glance at him, just one short peek. His straw-colored bangs were dangling into his face, but she knew him so well that she could make out any expression of his as long as she had even a sliver of visibility. His thick brows—absolute caterpillars that they were—were scrunched in concentration, and she could see the tiredness in the lines around his eyes. Maybe after the question session, they’d take a break.

She sensed the movement in his body before it even began, and dropped her gaze back to her own textbook just before he took his own glance at her.

Hylia, she wished she knew what a peek like that meant for him. Was it to see if she was paying attention; to see if he could slack off, like she was a professor monitoring him in detention? Was it simply the gaze of a friend? Or had he looked for the same reason she had: that uncontrollable urge to just take him in, as much and as often as possible?

She’d realized her feelings for him as the days started getting longer at half-Zenith, when the massage he kneaded into her shoulders after her victorious Wing Ceremony awoke something within her she hadn’t even realized was dormant. And she’d been increasingly obvious with it—holding his hand more than ever, seeking him out in every free moment, sending him loftwing letters in the mornings so that her words could be the first ones he saw when he woke up. Really, the only way her affection could be more apparent would be if she leaned in for a kiss (although she’d probably wimp out before she could get within four inches of his face).

There was no way he couldn’t know, at this point, unless he was literally the most unobservant person to fly the skies. And yet, he had been so incredibly hard to read about it! Hadn’t said anything about the changes in her behavior, in confession or rejection. She knew he could be anxious, often needed time to push through emotional blocks and interrogate his true feelings. But it had been moons. Surely he’d say something soon.

Surely.

All at once, her thoughts shattered like glass as something hairy and heavy impacted her shoulder and stayed there. Link’s head. She turned her own to the side, ready to give him a piece of her mind for slacking off and distracting her, but—

Closed eyes, parted petal lips. Chest rising and falling slowly and evenly.

He was asleep.

Really, it was a miracle that he’d landed on her, rather than tipping over in the opposite direction and painfully sprawling onto the floor. Then again, he’d always been the goddess’s favorite.

“Such a sleepyhead,” she whispered, as quietly as she could manage. “Maybe I should call you blockhead, for how heavy that pumpkin you call a skull is.”

She couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she looked at him, feeling the weight of his head and his trust on her shoulder.

If he didn’t ask her about her feelings—or, goddess willing, confess some of his own—in the next half-year, she’d tell him how she felt after the next Wing Ceremony. Hopefully, he’d win, and she could confess her feelings to him atop the Goddess Statue. It would be suitably romantic, and if he rejected her she could always just leap off the statue.

A year would be a long time to wait with her head in the clouds and a permanently elevated heartbeat, but he was worth it. Always had been. And always would be, even if he didn’t return her romantic inclinations, and she stayed his platonic pal forever.

Zelda let out a sigh—that only slightly shuddered with all the yearning in her chest—and leaned her own head over to rest on Link’s. For now, this stolen moment was enough.

#loz #zelink #fanfic #sksw zelink #skyward sword #my fanfiction #30 day song(fic) challenge

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charlottelerose · 11 months

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A Six Year Bullet and the Checkered Flag that Followed

This is a follow-up to my post, The Weight Of It All. You do not have to read that first.

It has been more than six years of trying to get one gender-affirming medical procedure in the United States. The details of how they tried to murder me don’t matter so much as the strategy they used. At first, they used the standard “Not medically necessary” response that every single United States citizen with a net worth below $10,000 is keenly aware of. When The Affordable Care Act provisions went into effect that prevented exactly this sort of nonsense, they shifted tactics. Now they were more than happy to cover this procedure voluntarily, as in, they voluntarily decided to follow US law. So, I got all the forms signed, all the documents needed setup and approved and submitted for pre-approval and signed again and submitted once more and the insurance gives us a big like emoji and the surgeon provides me a date for the surgery, two years from that day. The clock was ticking and everything was quiet until one week before the scheduled procedure, the insurance companies decided they suddenly didn’t have enough documentation. The notice came at 4:55 PM on a Friday and no amount of communication between my surgeon, doctor, therapist, and the murderers, would convince the murderers to maybe not try to murder me, pretty please. So, since I can’t come up with tens of thousands of dollars on the spot, suddenly my appointment is cancelled, and I’m told to start over.

This exact scenario will play out two more times.

The third is when I wrote my anger into the void of Tumblr. “We’re just trying to make sure you get accurate healthcare”, lied one insurer over the phone to a sobbing trans woman. They would then go on to refuse to pay for any of my hormones.

This point isn’t about the murderers working at the highest levels of insurance companies in America, this post is about what I decided to do about their attempts on my life.

When my then-girlfriend heard my crying on the phone, she immediately booked a flight to the US to help however she could. The next two months were spent strategizing and coming up with options. It was clear the insurance companies were going to continue to exploit this legal loophole as often and as much as possible, so everything we came up with was based on medical tourism; the wonderfully expensive retreat Americans invented when they need to find healthcare outside their country. My then-girlfriend happened to live in one of those countries, so the decision came down to moving in with her and seeking help elsewhere.

The next two months we’re fraught with difficulties. Turns out, if you’re staying longer than a certain number of days somewhere, countries will require numerous documents and background checks to allow you to do so. My child also needed a passport, and thanks to the current wave of anti-lgbtqia+ bills being passed in the US, nearly half of everyone in that category was also trying something similar to me. Even with paying for expedited shipping and processing, we got the passport only two days from the fly date on our tickets. I was also working this whole time while we tried to figure out how to store a lifetime’s worth of stuff into the cheapest possible storage unit. We saved maybe ⅓ of my personal belongings, losing so much furniture and gifts to the nothing of donation bins and quick Craigslist deals. I was working the entire time as well to pay for the plane tickets back.

The flight took twenty-six hours. A whirlwind of security checkpoints and removing shoes and paying fees, and I was finally in a new country whose language I barely spoke, rooming with my now-fiancé.

The following will sound literally impossible to other Americans, but I swear on my citizenship to the richest country in the world that it is all very true.

We called a doctor who specializes in transgender healthcare, specifically the kind of surgery I need. He saw us the next day and the conversation cost me $30 USD without insurance. He told us we can do the procedure the very next available time-slot. That was thirteen days away from that point. He was horrified at some of the things we told him about how the American healthcare industry works. We got a quote of about $10,000 USD for the surgery. Again, without insurance. My chin hit the floor. Selling the whole of my life’s possessions netted me just about half of that, but it was so cheap compared to the 10x cost back in the US that I practically hugged him on the way out of his office.

We had twelve days to come up with about $5,000 USD, but it didn’t really feel real. In fact, the next twelve days were mostly just me working and not wholly understanding the doctor visits or tests I was having, as I moved through a system not set up for tourists in an almost zen-like trance. My fiancé would tell me she tried to explain what was going on or where we were going, but I just sort of let the words wash over me. I honestly can’t remember a single specific detail about most of the process myself, most of this post is heavily fact-checked by her. The only clear memory I have is: “hold still, I need to cut you”.

Preparing for the surgery, I was required to get every possible blood test, a urine sample, a healing test (the kind where they cut you to see how fast your blood clots over the wound), something called a mandibular scan, an X-ray, and an electrocardiogram. I also needed to get them a copy of my entire medical history. All of which, together, cost me $300 USD ($200 of which was the skull x-ray and mandibular scan) and was done over the span of three days.

I felt nothing, and time passed peacefully as we borrowed money from friends and family to pay for the procedure. Emotionally I was still a wreck, but mentally I was fine— kind of. I’m the kind of person who, if she has a list of tasks to do and someone to get me places, can zone out completely and wake up two weeks later in a hospital gown to a doctor standing over me saying “Don’t worry. Everyone I have ever told will have sweet dreams has had sweet dreams. Sweet dreams.” as he places the general anesthesia mask over my mouth and the heart rate monitor spikes. It was that moment that everything became real, and I had about three seconds to come to terms with the fact that I was, finally, about to undergo a major and life altering surgery.

Fourteen days, about $14,000 USD, and the loss of almost all of my worldly possessions overcame six long years of trolls hiding under bridges.

Note: I prettied up and omitted a lot of the ugliest facts of this mostly for brevity, partly so that this doesn’t become a platform for me to sit down and bleed onto— and partly so that the personally identifiable information wasn’t there.

#trans rights #transgender #lgbtq #american #healthcare #surgery #survival #life #I cannot over-emphasize how terrifying “hold still; I need to cut you” is

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