#about all the things that happened to him in the past years
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Now I’m in exile seeing you out
Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 4k | warnings: none
Summary: a follow up to you’re losing me - You've reached your tipping point where you can't forgive Azriel's constant choice of work over you. Can he fix things? Or did things get wildly out of hand and it's too late?
Author’s note: you guys loved part one, hopefully this offers a satisfying conclusion 🥰
2k celebration masterlist
Your new apartment was quiet, not even your neighbors were making noise. You had grown accustomed to the silence the past few months - Azriel always being gone had left the house a certain way - too large, too quiet, too much without him. This silence felt different.
It wasn’t full of expectation - of wanting Azriel to come through the door or expecting him to treat you like he did in the before.
Now you’re in the after, your finger feeling light from the lack of the ring on it. Fae don’t usually wear rings - a human custom that Feyre had told you all about, one that Azriel found quite romantic.
“So that way when we are buried and our scents are gone, if anyone found our bodies, they would know what we were.”
His words were romantic, but now the tan line on your finger just made you feel hollow, as if this wasn’t supposed to be happening.
Any sound you made just echoed through the too empty space - you had foolishly gotten rid of most of your previous furniture when you and Azriel bought a house - your new furniture not arriving for a few more days. Feyre had found you this apartment rather quickly when you showed up at the River House in the middle of the night, uncertain of where else to go. She and Rhysand had agreed to let you stay there until you found a place of your own and they also agreed to not tell Azriel where you were.
“We could start fresh,” you had said to him, mainly wanting a good enough reason to throw out the couch you’ve had for half a century. But now all the new furniture was left behind, in a house too big for one occupant, probably laughing at your past words.
A knock at the door interrupts your thoughts, and you look through the peephole to find Feyre standing outside with a large plant of some sort. You unlock the door, letting her in. She gives you a soft smile and hugs you, the absurdly large plant making it somewhat difficult to get your arms around her.
She chirps a greeting to you, rubbing your back gently as you pull back from her. She knew why you had done it - you spent several nights over the past year on her couch crying to her over Azriel and his lack of time for you.
Behind her came Rhys, carrying several buckets of paint, rollers, tins, tarps. Your eyebrows raised, “is this your new art studio, Feyre? Are you going to teach Rhys how to paint?”
She giggles and Rhys rolls his eyes at you, setting the things in his arms down before kissing you on the top of your head. You lean into his touch before he pulls away, softly telling you, “we’re helping you paint the place - white walls are boring.”
In the days to come over the next week, you had multiple visitors. They all made you feel better while they were here, but whenever they left you felt that Azriel shaped hole in your heart all over again. Cassian had been the first after Feyre to visit, barreling into your apartment, nearly squeezing the life out of you once he got in the door, upset he had to wait so long to see you.
“Cass, it’s been four days.”
“The house’s not the same without you.”
“I highly doubt that.”
Cassian gave you a look that you didn’t like, and the two of you were teetering on the edge of the forbidden. You had asked Feyre to tell everyone they can come visit, but not to talk about Azriel in any way.
Unfortunately, much of Cassian’s life involves Azriel so he had a much harder time than everyone else. Any time he’d veer into Azriel territory, he’d quickly go, “oops” and cover his mouth very quickly, as if he had cursed in front of a child.
Elain had visited the next day, offering to help you prepare some potted window plants. The two of you walked through the Velaris markets, Elain prattling on about different kinds of plants. You knew she was trying to distract you, help you pick up the pieces of your broken life. So you picked out different plants for your windowsill, the weight of them in your arms much lighter than the weight of your emotions.
It was hard wandering the streets with Elain - this city felt so much like him, the streets littered with cafes the two of you frequented. Elain, whose presence you enjoyed greatly, felt like a stabbing reminder of what you lost.
You know Elain came in with you when you got back to your apartment, repotting the plants into the window planter she brought. Fresh dirt covered their roots, allowing them to grow in their new place. You can’t remember what Elain spoke about, just nodding along with her until you eventually found yourself alone again.
Each day brought a new member of Azriel’s family to visit, and you loved them, truly loved them, but it was hard to feel like they were coming for you as opposed to coming on behalf of him. You knew they loved you, despite whatever was happening between you and Azriel, but your interactions were always colored with him in the background.
You had been expecting Nesta to show up when you opened the door to find Azriel looking back at you.
You were a bit surprised at the restraint he maintained waiting so long, a whole week passing since you had left, but you said all you wanted to say in that note. You wanted him to feel awful, to finally see how you were feeling.
You just hated that it came to this to get him to see you.
He looked terrible. His shadows were pooled at his feet, darting towards you with affection, dancing around you. His wings were practically dragging on the floor, his shoulders sagged, his hair was a mess. His eyes looked lifeless, his jaw covered in stubble.
Good.
“Azriel,” you bit out, not an ounce of affection in your tone. “May I help you?”
“I want you to come home.” His words were clipped, agitation clear in his voice.
“This is my home, you may come in for a few minutes if you want to talk.”
You didn’t really want to invite him in, wanting him to stand outside your door, feeling as unwanted as you had for so many months. But you had new neighbors, and you weren’t sure you wanted to find out how nosy they were with this conversation.
The sight of him made you so angry, but a tiny part of you wanted to reach out to him, running your fingers through his hair, and coax him to come to bed so the two of you could actually sleep.
He shut the door behind him before turning back to you.
“Please, come back. I’ll be better.”
Your hands nestle onto your hips, your jaw rotating in annoyance. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
He sighs, his feet moving of their own accord across your floor, pacing back and forth on the hardwood floor.
“Was I not enough for you?”
His words send you into a tailspin of rage, your vision going red. “Azriel,” you say, voice rising, “that’s a funny thing to ask, when you were never there! I gave you everything. Endless excuses, endless empathy. I spent so much time telling people that what you were doing was okay, that I forgot it wasn’t! You weren’t there!”
His hands run down his face, shaking his head in denial. His shadows swirled the room, and you could hear them whispering to him, but what they were saying you couldn’t make out.
“You’re the one who decided that everything I had wasn’t enough for you.”
Your words hit their mark, and the Illyrian before you halts and removes his hands from his face, looking nothing like the formidable soldier he was, but rather the boy he had been. You take a deep breath, opening your door once more behind him.
“I needed you to risk something, I needed you to choose me.”
You stop forward, pushing him through the threshold.
“Most of all, I needed you to choose yourself, too.”
You shut the door on him, leaning your forehead against the wood. The place was suffocating you with its silence. It was a new silence, compared to the one you’d wait in while Azriel was off.
This one felt full of hope and possibilities.
-
Three decades passed since that fateful night, but you could still see Azriel’s eyes in the shadows some nights. You hated burning candles - the way the shadows flickered and danced reminded you of the shadows that curled your fingers, the ones that kept you company whenever Azriel spent too long away.
You had dated here and there since Azriel - none of them lasting more than a few years. They were fine - all attractive, all nice, but they all ended for one reason or another. One moved to a different court, which you didn’t want to do. Another’s mother didn’t like you and it just didn’t work out after that. Several relationships fizzled out because there just wasn’t a spark between you two. You felt cursed, unlucky in love, destined to be alone.
Or perhaps destined to always be heartbroken.
It wasn’t all bad - you just weren’t lucky with romance. You had fallen back in love with Velaris a few years after leaving Azriel, the city lights coaxing you back. You had actually considered leaving entirely, the city feeling too much of him.
Until one day, about five years after you left, you had walked the Sidra one night, the reflections of the street lights giving the city and the river a new glow.
It enchanted you, waking you up from the stupor you had been in for so long.
After that, you spent a lot of your time around Velaris - running events for the city, making friends with several of the business owners. It felt good to find a new support system in the city - one not connected to your ex boyfriend.
You clutch your coat tighter around yourself as you weave through the streets of Velaris, heading back to your apartment. You walk by some apartments, a few men standing around outside, their boisterous laughs making you feel uneasy. One of them starts calling for you, but you ignore his words and walk faster.
You heard footsteps behind you, and you turned a corner hoping he’d stop following you.
“Leave her alone.”
You knew that voice - the deep timbre one you heard in occasional dreams, calling to you even after all these years. You stop your fast walking, turning just in time to make eye contact with those hazel eyes you’ve been dreaming of forever. You can’t run - he’s already stopped still at the sight of you, as if time was stopping for this unexpected reunion.
He stands behind the guy who was following you, his face peering over the male’s shoulder at you.
“She your bitch?”
Azriel’s growl shocks you, and the male turns, allowing his siphons to glow bright in the night. The male stops his chuckling, replaced with deep apologies, running off in the other direction as Azriel moves closer to you, and the two of you start walking in the direction towards your apartment.
The streets are quiet as Azriel follows your lead, his boots scuffing the cobblestone street. It felt strange to be next to him again, the wind rippling against the skin of his wings a sound you never thought you’d hear again.
He clears his throat, “sorry about them.” He gestures behind himself before adding, “I saw them yelling at some female and just wanted to keep anything from happening.”
You look up at him, drinking in his appearance. Thirty years had passed since he came to your apartment that day - since you yelled and screamed at him. You had wanted to yell more that day, but you were so drained from how things ended, you just wanted to move on. He looked much the same - his jawline sharp, his large nose littered with the freckles you loved so much. They were more prominent now, likely a result of the summer sun. His hair was a little lighter, cut a little shorter than you remembered it, the curls lightly dusting the top of his forehead.
You had hardly spoken to much of his family recently, your new job and not living in one of their properties making it quite difficult to schedule dinners and lunches. The last time you saw any of them was either when Elain visited you about six years ago or when you saw Cassian in a coffee shop, a tiny babe in his arms some odd years ago.
You had caught glimpses of the inner circle over the years - a wave to Feyre across a restaurant, the sight of Rhys’s smirk through a window, the bookshop clerk down the street mentioning Nesta. Glimpses of their lives, but you never allowed yourself to stop for too long to get caught back into their orbit.
You had once been so integrated into the family, but it was hard to continue when you pulled away from Azriel. They loved you, you knew that, but they were his family and it never felt quite right without him, every one of your conversations with them overshadowed by the lack of Azriel. So, you had pulled back. It’s not what they wanted, it’s not what you wanted, but it was what you needed.
So many things were the same, but he somehow looked lighter, as if the weight of the world weren’t on his shoulders anymore. It made him look so free and so beautiful.
Maybe he found someone who could finally help against his demons.
“It’s quite alright - I actually should thank you for that and for walking me home. I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking home alone after that.”
You two continue on in silence, the only sound your shoes against the cobblestones and the fae moving about on the streets, heading off for their nights to start as yours ended on this strange note. The silence was lingering for too long, old emotions stirring beneath the surface. You had to break the tension.
“Is Cassian a dad now?”
Azriel’s eyes widened before throwing his head back laughing. You had almost forgotten just how beautiful that sound was. Almost. “Fuck no.”
His chuckles bounce off the streets of Velaris as he mutters, “but he and Nesta still fuck like they’re desperate for one.”
“But I swear I saw him out with a kid with wings a few years ago.”
Azriel stops to think for a moment before squinting his eyes a bit, “do you remember the issues we had with wing clipping?” You nod, remembering how just the details of some of the things Azriel’s seen at the hands of his people made you queasy. “We helped a few of the women escape the camps - we’ve been trying to make safe spaces for them to live in to prove to the males that they don’t need them. It’s slow, but we’ve got a few dozen living in and around Velaris.”
Wow, you thought. Your smile is genuine as you congratulate him, “that’s impressive, Az!” He shakes his head at your celebratory tone. “Really, I know progress is slow with them, but that’s great.” You beam up at him before scratching the back of your head, “but it still doesn’t explain the kid I saw.”
“A few of the females brought their kids with them, and Cassian likes to spend time with each of them one-on-one. He says it’s a good excuse to get ice cream, but I think he just likes seeing them have a present male in their lives.”
You two continue winding through the streets, a cool breeze lifting through your hair. It was so odd to be here with him, odder still for this to feel normal. Azriel clears his throat, his voice a bit uncertain, “I’ve been uh delegating more.”
You pause, feet stopping on the road. They’re just words, nothing more, but Azriel’s never delegated. A true perfectionist to his core, he never even considered delegating any task Rhys asks of him. You turn to look at him, his hazel eyes looking back to you full of regret and longing.
“I’ve been uh, using some of the spies under me more. I’ve been trusting them with more important work.”
The two of you reached your apartment door, the same one Feyre had painted silver all those years ago. You can hear his shaky breath as he continued. “I don’t deserve you. I never have. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t-“ he sighs. “I don’t deserve you, but I do deserve love.”
His voice breaks at that and some piece of you shatters all over again at how poorly he was treated to never feel like he deserved anything good or kind.
“This is coming out all wrong,” he huffs, tugging lightly at some of his hair, “but Madja’s been helping me for a long time. I- it’s so hard to let me be deserving of love. I always felt I had to earn it. I felt I had to do the impossible things asked of me and that would finally make me worthy.”
He sighs, a slight thump from the door as he leans his forehead against it.
“I am worthy of being loved. And so are you.”
His hands are shaking, but his shadows wrapped around them, forming something similar to tight fitting gloves, offering some kind of security to him to continue.
“If the damage is too much, I understand. You can tell me to fuck off at any point. But if… if you would let me, I’d like to.. I’d like to show you that I’m trying. That I’ve been working on myself.”
You continue to look up at him, gobsmacked at this confessional from him.
“It’s hard. I couldn’t make progress overnight, hence my long absence. But I have made progress. I’ve uh actually been taking days off. I started going on trips to Day and Summer a few years back. I read three books at the beach a few months ago, actually.”
He laughs at the absurdity of his trip - a vacation. Something he’s never done. To spend days on his own, nothing but a book to keep him company is all you’ve ever wanted from him.
A pause. A breath. But he keeps going, needing to get his jumbled thoughts out of his head and into yours.
“It’s been a long time, but I think about you every day. I’ve probably made a fool of myself out here, but if there is any way you aren’t seeing anyone and if any part of you misses me at all…” He trails off, his fist lightly hitting the door. “I just wanted you to know that I’m trying. I’m bettering myself. I am better. I know it’s late, but..”
He trails off, unsure of how to finish his sentence. Your silence was eerie, leading him to keep talking, his words unable to stop.
“I just- I never wanted things to get here. I was foolish, and I didn’t appreciate you. It took you leaving to realize I could not continue like I was… I can’t.. Let myself hurt the people I care about anymore.”
You stay rooted, pressed against the door, not moving.
They were just words, the same things that hurt you over the years of broken promises and missed dates. But they’re so thought out. He’s had thirty years to mull things over, and he feels so much lighter than before.
You’re conflicted, but the optimist in you wins out as your voice finally finds you.
“Show me.”
-
Every Sunday for several weeks at 8 AM Azriel would stand on your doorstep and knock gently. You would open the door and he would present you with a bouquet of flowers - varieties of colors and species made their home on your dining room table as the weeks go by.
The two of you stroll through the city. The city you loved so dearly and for so long, parts of it feeling impossible to look at without thinking of the male next to you.
He would usually open up with some story about Cassian or Rhysand to break the ice. Then he’d tell you about his week - where Rhysand had sent him off, what he did on his days off that weren’t Sunday, anything that stood out. The two of you wander the streets, only stopping for occasional treats to eat while continuing your walk.
As the weeks go by, he starts filling you in on the past thirty years. For a long time, he saw Madja almost daily. She began providing him with herbs that helped regulate his moods, helped him sleep better, and helped him feel better. She also began having him comb through the deepest parts of himself he tried to forget, the memories of that little boy abandoned in that dungeon. He’d also tell you about how the rest of the Inner Circle was doing - Feyre and Rhys were trying for a baby, Elain was traveling a lot, Nesta and Cassian were… Nesta and Cassian.
Now he only sees Madja every other week, and she seems quite impressed by his progress. She should be, you think, he’s a far cry from the male you kicked out of your apartment all those decades ago.
After a few weeks, you began opening up to him as well. How hard it was to leave, your relationships in your time apart, how empty everything had felt without him, how you’d developed some strong friendships in the years apart.
“I had to pick up the pieces of myself too, Az.”
His heart pangs with guilt, but you reach out for his elbow, eyes bright with beginnings.
“I always wondered what I’d do if you came back to me, but I never thought you’d be how you are now. You seem so… light?” Your voice comes out more like a question, and you chuckle. “You just seem so different, but in a good way.”
“I feel different. I feel like I’m not… like I’m not that little boy anymore. Like I don’t have to prove myself to be loved. If not by you, by someone.”
His words linger in the air and you couldn’t help the pride that swelled in your chest at his words.
“I do want it to be you, though. If you’d have me, that is.”
Your heart wanted you to lean forward, wanted nothing more than for you to wrap yourself in his embrace. But before either of you could move forward, you had to know, one way or another.
“Why did you keep pushing the wedding back?”
Your voice was soft and shaky, but the question had been lingering on your mind for so long, it was on the tip of your tongue every time the two of you met up.
“I couldn’t tell you before because you would have been so nice about it, but I- I thought I was ruining you. I didn’t want you, so kind, so wonderful, to be tethered to me for all eternity. But I was too selfish to let you go. I still am, I suppose.”
He shrugs, his shoulders folding inward toward you, his wings drooping a bit. “I know now how ridiculous that sounds, but I.. wanted you but I also wanted better for you.”
He turned toward you, his skin shining like gold in the sun. He was radiant - a word hardly ever used for him before. He looked as Helion does, as if the sun was redirecting its rays through him.
“So I became better for you, for myself, for my family.”
And that was what you needed to hear. It was never about you (in many ways it was), but at the end of the day, you always wanted what was best for the both of you.
And he became that.
On a beautiful summer day, you stood on your tiptoes, your hands reaching upwards to pull his face into yours.
And by gods even his kisses felt lighter.
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People who asked for a part two: @piceous21 @itsswritten @leeknows-wife @12344321heyyy @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @naturakaashi @janebirkln @slut4acotar @kaitttttttt @queerqueenlynn @anuttellaa @dee-writes-smut @bunnyredgirl @historygeekqueen @michealharrypotter @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @dyingsinglecuzimfangirl @crazylokonugget @yearninglustfully
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#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#azriel fluff#acotar writing#azriel#azriel x y/n#azriel angst
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English is not my first language, so I hope I can speak it correctly. I imagined a story where the shy!reader has hot dreams about Miguel, and for some "reason" (Lyla), Miguel finds out and decides to tease the reader until everything ends in an NSFW way. I hope I have given you the idea within the appropriate terms.
Hehehe, no worries my friend. I know just what to write.
Warning: MINORS DNI, SMUT, teasing, slow sex, masturbation, fingering, wet dreams, overstimulation
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
This obsession you were having with one of your co-workers was getting out of hand. You knew it was a long shot that you could ever have a chance with the one and only, Miguel O'hara, but you couldn't stop dreaming about him.
Miguel O'hara was the smartest man in Alchemax. He was in charge of nearly everything that had to do with genetics. Every woman wanted to be his, hell, even men wanted a piece of that hot ass.
You? You were part of ordering team. It was a blessing and a curse, mainly because you got to talk with Miguel a lot more than others. You had to get with him to see what materials he needed. You loved it, but also hated it.
Why?
Because each time you talked to Miguel helped you dream of him fucking you raw. His hands pinning your head down against your pillow as he plows you from behind. The thought of his dick filling you again and again made your pussy throb.
His husky voice whispering in your ear, asking you who you belonged too. His balls emptying out inside your womb, coating your walls white.
Drool nearly rolled down your lips as your fingers rested gently against your throbbing bud. Oh, how Miguel O'Hara made your mind wander to the dirtiest parts. It was difficult because you knew something as glorious as that could never happen.
When you got home, you had nothing better to do than record your thoughts. Unlike the past where people wrote in a diary, the year 2099 made things easier. You summoned your AI and set it to recording mode, ready to talk about your wildest fantasies.
"Ah, and when Miguel's hand grazed mind when he handed me the list...mhm...I couldn't help but think how those fingers would feel inside me. Why does he have to be so hot? I can't mutter a word to him about anything other than work!"
You whined and cried as you let your frustrations out in your virtual diary. It wasn't fair. You wanted Miguel to notice you as a woman. You wanted him to ask you out. To make you his.
But who knows whenever that will happen.
---------
Miguel was stuck in his lab, working on some late projects before calling it a night. As he worked, he recalled you. Smiling at how shy you were, Miguel leaned back in his seat. Out of all the girls who fawned over him, Miguel enjoyed you the most.
The way your cheeks turned bright red whenever he spoke was adorable. How you doze off and let your mind wander only made Miguel curious. What could you be thinking of when he was standing before you?
"Lyla, could you find a way to contact (Y/N)? I want to add something to the list." Miguel demanded.
"Hmm," Lyla appeared and started to work, "Oh, looks like she is in recording mode with her AI. Let me patch us in-"
"Ly'a, don't! That's her-"
"Hah, ah~ M-Miguel..."
Miguel froze as Lyla hacked into your recording AI. His eyes widen and cock harden as you laid on your bed, fingered working furiously against your clit. Your body arching as you whimpered moans and cries of his name.
"Ah~ R-Right there....mhm~ h-harder M-Miguel...f-fill me up~!" You cried out before reaching your orgasm.
Miguel shuddered in awe as he watched your pussy spasm and clench to air. Your breathing heavy as you laid down to rest. You took a moment to sit up, whining softly before complaining that you needed to stop thinking about Miguel since he could never be yours.
Oh how wrong you were.
Miguel had Lyla turn everything off. He logged out and hurried out of Alchemax. How could he work when there was a beauty such as yourself desperate for his dick? Miguel had been wanting to make you his since the moment you spoke to him.
Hopefully you were ready for him.
----------
You laid on your bed, sniffing your thoughts away. Your recording ended much differently than you would like. Luckily it was your own personal diary, but you still should probably delete it in case something ever happens.
Upon hearing a knock at your door, you scurried to grab a robe. Who could it be at this late hour? Poking through your door peep hole, you gasped as Miguel stood in front of your door. Hurrying to open, you nearly forget about your exposed self,
"M-Miguel?! W-What....What are you doing here?" You asked with a squeak.
"Sorry-" Miguel glanced down at you, "I, um...came here without thinking."
"Oh...Well..." You could feel your heart racing a mile a minute, "W-Why don't you come in...let me get you some water."
---------
How could you be so carefree? There you were, in nothing but a robe, after just fucking yourself to him. If Miguel didn't have his spider powers this might have been a different scene playing out. Oh, the temptation to pin you against the counter and fuck you stupid.
"Actually...I need to confess something to you."
Miguel needed to control himself. Perhaps he could tease you a bit about what he saw. Perhaps he could make this a bit more natural and playful.
"Lyla-My AI, may have accidently showed me something that is confidential for you." Miguel said as he cleared his throat. The blood had drained from your face,
"L-Like?!"
"Like," Miguel smiled as he hovered over your trembling body, "You crying out so sweetly."
"Ah!" You covered your face as it turned bright red. Miguel leaned down, chuckling lowly,
"Who would have thought those hands of yours could move so fast?"
"M-Miguel-"
"I couldn't help but feel awful for putting you in such a....position," Miguel nibbled against your ear, hearing you whine, "Such a quiet girl making those noises...how naughty."
-------
You could feel your head spinning as Miguel pressed his body against yours. The warmth of his body engulfing yours as his voice whispered against your ear. Everything about this scene was making you wet.
"How long have you been thinking about me?" Miguel chuckled as his hands circled around your waist,
"Mhm~ A long time," You admitted, feeling flustered by his teasing.
"Oh? Do you touch yourself like that every night?"
Your robe was starting to come undone as your body went on full display for Miguel. His head against your head, causing you to press your chest against his.
"Y-Yes," You stuttered.
"How naughty."
Miguel chuckled once more as he kissed your neck. Your robe had fallen on the floor and Miguel's hands were firmly on your waist. His leg pushed forward, causing your pussy to sit against it. You whimpered a whine as he kept pushing his leg against your wet cunt.
"What an honest body," Miguel hummed as his hands grouped your breasts, "And here I was about to ask if you want me to stop."
"No." You begged before tugging against his sleeve, "Please...Please fuck me."
-------
This was heaven on earth. Never had you thought this moment was ever going to happen.
However, you expected it a lot faster and rougher than this.
"A-Ah~ M-Miguel~~" You cried out.
Miguel was hovered over your naked body like a god. Your legs were thrown over his shoulder and his cock was deep inside you. Miguel's body was even more perfect than you ever dreamed of. His dick was far bigger than your wildest dreams.
"Hm? Don't like it slow?" Miguel chuckled lowly as he slowly pulled out with a grunt, "Your pussy is sucking me in so much. Thought I give it a nice treat."
"Hah~ s-so deep..." You whimpered as he pushed himself back in.
Miguel's slow movements was making your body heated. The tight knot in your stomach was far different from what you've ever done to yourself. His dick was kissing every part of your pussy you didn't even know existed.
"Awe, about to cum?" Miguel asked as you shivered from his slow thrust.
You wanted him to ravish you. You wanted him to make you see stars, not make you go crazy. Gasping as Miguel rubbed your clit, you cried as you gushed all over his cock. Your walls sucking him in more, begging for him to fill you.
Miguel could only chuckle as he kissed your body. His hands roaming everywhere as you calmed down from your high. Miguel pressed his hips closer, hitting you deeper than what he was prior. You flung your head back, moaning in pleasure.
"Is this everything you've ever dreamed of?" Miguel asked with a soft pant.
"Mhm~"
You were squirming slightly as Miguel continued his slow, yet deep thrusts inside you. Your vision was slightly blurry as your body started to shiver, but you could have sworn that Miguel was groaning. He wanted to go faster too.
"M-Miguel...y-you can...mhm~ go r-rough~" You cooed. Miguel licked your neck, biting against it softly,
"You better not regret it then."
Before you could say a word, you gasped and moaned loudly as Miguel's pace became rough. His dick slamming into your gummy walls, making loud lewd sounds filled the room. Your juices soaking the bed sheets under you as he kept hitting that sweet spot you've gone nuts over.
Your moans became loud and pornographic as Miguel gave you no time to rest. You had cummed again, coating his cock white as he continued to ram into you. You body shaking and jolting with each thrust as your sensitivity grew.
"How lewd," Miguel groaned against your ear as his hips slapped into yours, "Don't know bout you, but I wouldn't mind getting used to this."
"Ah~ Mhm~ Y-Yes!" You cried out.
Miguel chuckled as you started to arch your back. Your expression getting more expressive as you started to get fucked out. Biting his lower lip, Miguel grunted as he bottomed out inside of you. His eyes sparkled as your mouth made a cute 'o' form.
"Now, how could I stop with just one?"
You gasped, gripping onto the bedsheets as Miguel flipped you over. Your head pressed against the pillow as he went balls deep inside you. Your body shaking in rhythm to his rough thrusts as you enjoyed the feeling of his cum pouring inside you.
"Ah~ Mig~"
You were in heaven. All you could focus on was how good your pussy felt with each thrust. How good Miguel was at hitting each sweet spot you had. You shook in pleasure as you felt Miguel cum inside you again, groaning to your moans.
"(Y/N), next time you think of me....call me so I can show you how to feel good."
"Yesh~" You cooed.
-------
Miguel chuckled as you fell asleep after his last load. Honestly, he could keep going with his stamina, but you weren't ready for that yet. Carefully picking you up, Miguel made sure to wash you up and change your bedsheets before tucking you in.
He may have went a little overboard. But you didn't mind. Smiling as he covered you in the blanket, Miguel kissed your head before heading out.
"See you tomorrow, (Y/N)."
Of course, Miguel took your panties home as a souvinier.
You weren't the only one who had wet dreams.
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Hope you enjoyed!
#spiderman 2099#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#across the spiderverse#miguel x you#miguel o'hara
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Thinking about a bingqiu Dreamling AU where Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua are both bored deities, just sort of taking a brief sojourn through the mortal world to shoot the shit and see some interesting monster or other that Shen Yuan has heard about, when they come across a tea house and decide to take a break and do some people-watching instead.
Shen Yuan is well into something of a shut-in phase, which Shang Qinghua doesn't like, mostly because when Shen Yuan is in those phases he doesn't do particularly well either. Shen Yuan's a social butterfly, for however little he cares to actually acknowledge it about himself, and his critique of Shang Qinghua's literary masterpieces gets so much harsher when he's not getting enough enrichment.
So when they overhear one of the kitchen boys solemnly insisting that he is going to do everything in his power to never die, and Shen Yuan laments that the boy would probably regret such a wish if it came true, Shang Qinghua decides to bestow a rare bit of godly power onto this mortal and grant his wish.
He doesn't make him a god, of course, that wouldn't even be in his ability. At least, not without using up more time and effort than he's prepared to expend on this one random kid. But immortality on its own is not that difficult. The boy will still finish growing up, and will still be able to be harmed, to know hunger and pain and illness. It just won't ever kill him.
Shen Yuan sighs that it's a cruel thing to do to a mortal, especially one with such low odds of ever cultivating other skills to mitigate the potential torment of it all. But Shang Qinghua just shrugs and they place bets, that this boy will ask for the immortality to be revoked in a hundred years, or two hundred, or so on, or else he won't. Shen Qingqiu approaches the kitchen boy and flusters and bewilders him by telling him to meet him back here again in a hundred years time.
A hundred years later, the tea house is larger. The boy has grown to be a striking young man, who looks at Shen Yuan with wariness and something else, something almost like awe, as he asks what manner of creature he's made this bargain with. Shen Yuan assures him that he has no nefarious intentions, and instead asks Luo Binghe how the past century of his life has gone.
Horribly, at least at first. Binghe's mother had already died by the time they met, but afterwards he managed to earn enough money to travel to a nearby sect. Working in the tea house's kitchen was just a minor stopover along the way. Shen Yuan was wrong, it seems, about his odds of becoming a cultivator -- Luo Binghe earned entry as a disciple.
Yet, he had no success. The master who took him on was unaccountably cruel and mercurial, and Luo Binghe's attempts to cultivate failed. Looking back he sees now that there were many times when he should have died but didn't, but when it was all happening he just thought himself lucky. At least until an enemy sect attacked a cultivation conference, and he suffered mortal wounds that absolutely should have killed him (or anyone) but still didn't die. (No demon race or abyss in this AU, but there are still demonic and fantastical creatures.)
His cruel master, upon witnessing this, accused him of heretical practices and tried to kill him as well by flinging him off the edge of a gorge. The fall was terrible. Binghe lay at the bottom in a horrifying state, injured beyond reason and yet, still, he didn't die. Eventually his body recovered enough for him to drag himself out, and once he did the only thing on his mind was getting revenge. For the next several decades he managed to ingratiate himself to all manner of potential allies, forging alliances, accumulating blackmail, and convincing people that he had to be some powerful cultivator through his supernatural resilience, lack of visible aging, and a lot of bluffing. He got revenge on his old teacher, drove his first sect into ruin, and rose to prominence as a feared and respected leader of the cultivation world.
Shen Yuan listens with clear interest, asking plenty of questions and seemingly quite taken up with the story. At the conclusion, Luo Binghe admits that his actual cultivation is still mostly a matter of smoke and mirrors, and wonders if -- now that the hundred years have passed -- Shen Yuan means to strip his immortality from him.
Shen Yuan asks if Luo Binghe wants that. When Luo Binghe says no, he accepts the answer, and tells him to meet him back here again in another hundred years. Luo Binghe calls after him, but before he can ask anything more, Shen Yuan has disappeared again.
A hundred years later, Binghe arrives back at the tea house with an entourage befitting of an emperor. The tea house has also expanded. Luo Binghe orders a lavish feast from them, which everyone hastens to provide. He's spent the past several decades consolidating his power, forging alliances with key political players via several marriages, producing heirs, and crushing his enemies. As he brags about the state of his massive harem to Shen Yuan, the deity's eyes begin to glaze over. He doesn't seem impressed. He also doesn't seem to care much for the food, and eventually his attention is stolen away by a conversation at another table. The diners are discussing the exploits of a promising new poet and novelist. Try as he might, Luo Binghe fails to regain Shen Yuan's attention before the evening is done. Shen Yuan doesn't think it's a big deal -- after all, if Binghe is still riding on top of the world, he's probably not going to want his immortality gift revoked just yet!
Another hundred years go by. The tea house has returned to a more modest situation, the next time Shen Yuan sets foot in it. He waits an unusually long while for his guest to arrive, and when he does, he's almost stopped at the door by the tea house's servers. It's only when Shen Yuan bids them let him through that Luo Binghe is able to come to the table, almost collapsing against it and desperately falling onto the arrangement of snacks with obvious hunger.
Shen Yuan wonders if this, now, will be when the boy (no longer a boy) asks for the immortality to be revoked. Surprisingly, he finds himself resistant to the idea, even though it's also clear that the game has run too long. Maybe hundred year check-ins were too short? He doesn't like the implications of what's gone on, even if he's not really surprised about it either.
Between desperate mouthfuls of food, Luo Binghe explains that without mastering inedia, going hungry but never dying is a deeply unpleasant experience. Shen Yuan orders more food. Once Binghe has finally eaten his fill, he begins, haltingly, to explain his situation. His clothes are ragged, he is painfully thin, and his gaze is haunted.
Apparently, several of his wives conspired to assassinate him, despite his reputation as unkillable. Realizing that most poisons and such didn't kill him, but that he could still be incapacitated, they hatched a scheme to dose his food with a powerful sleeping agent, and then walled him up in a famous ancestral tomb. They went to great length to ensure that it was impossible to escape from. It took Binghe decades to do it anyway, digging away at the floors, and when he got out he found that his power base had collapsed. In-fighting and the incursion of his enemies had led to the deaths of all of his children, and what wives had survived had either fled or remarried. Not that he particularly wanted them back at that point, since the ones actually most loyal to him had also been killed early on after his own "death". His face marked him, to the eyes of his enemy, as a surviving descendant of himself. He was hunted down, chased across the continent and back again, until he managed to fall into enough obscurity that his pursuers abandoned the chase. Except that he has nothing, and any time he tries to regain something, he runs the risk of being hounded again. Those who might see some potential in him still remember the collapse of his recent "dynasty" and slam doors in his face, or else try and turn him over to those now in power in pursuit of a reward. Those who don't know that much see only a dirty beggar, and usually run him off on that basis instead.
Shen Yuan, almost hesitant, asks if Luo Binghe would like to have his immortality revoked.
Luo Binghe declines. How will he be able to take revenge on those who wronged him if he is dead? He has a hit list a mile long by now.
Which is definitely not the most noble of reasons to persist, but Shen Yuan finds himself reluctant to ask twice. Instead he orders more food, and then even reserves one of the traveler's rooms above the tea house for several days. By then the sky is turning grey, and Luo Binghe is losing his apparent battle with exhaustion. Shen Yuan presses the key into his hand, thinking it's probably not enough, but there are limits to how much gods are supposed to interfere and Shang Qinghua already stretched them to the breaking point with this entire scenario.
He leaves, not seeing the hand that reaches after him just before he is out of the door and gone.
Another hundred years pass. This time, Shen Yuan arrives to find Luo Binghe already waiting for him. He isn't surprised to see that Binghe's situation has visibly improved -- maybe he was keeping closer tabs on him, just a little bit, for this past while. If only to be sure he wouldn't have to warn the tea house workers to expect an unorthodox visitor again! But no, Binghe has been doing well enough for himself. No more harems or thrones, though. He dresses more like a well-off merchant now, deliberately posing as his own mortal descendant rather than as a great immortal cultivator. The food at the table looks far more delicious than usual too (Binghe commandeered the tea house's kitchen himself this time). As they chat, Shen Yuan is regaled with the exploits of Luo Binghe's travels and adventures, how even though he initially set out to claim revenge on those who overthrew him, by the time he was in a position to actually do so they had already died of the usual causes (time, illness, their own schemes backfiring, etc). Subsequently, only their children and grandchildren were left with the scraps of power they had obtained, and when one of those children employed Luo Binghe as a bodyguard, his initial plan to assassinate them eventually fell by the wayside. After all, the wrongdoings weren't actually theirs. From that point, Binghe was able to restore himself to a more comfortable life, joining his new employer on their travels until he had set aside enough earnings to take his leave before his youthful good-looks earned him suspicion. He then began investing in travel and trade, specifically cargo ships, because never spending too long in the same place or around the same people helped disguise his immortality. He had found that, at least for now, this served him better than playing the part of a cultivator. It also gave him time to try and actually repair his ruined cultivation base somewhat, and fighting pirates proved very diverting.
Binghe is midway through recounting his adventures with a gigantic sea monster, while Shen Yuan hangs on every word, when they're interrupted by the arrival of a brash young mistress, clearly wealthy and trained in cultivation. The young lady declares that there is a rumor that a fallen god and a demon meet in this tea house once a century, that they wield strange powers, etc etc, and she intends to interrogate them both with the assistance of her hired muscle and her own spiritual weapon, and discover the truth of the matter. Then she whips out, well, a whip!
Before Shen Yuan can deal with the matter, Luo Binghe is already on his feet, disarming the goons and breaking a few arms in the process. Shen Yuan is so distracted that he almost misses the whip aimed right for him, but before Binghe can catch the barbed weapon with his bare hand (wtf, Binghe, no) Shen Yuan deflects it with a wave of his fan, and then efficiently knocks the troublesome young lady unconscious. The hired muscle flees, Shen Yuan arranges for their assailant to be placed in a room upstairs until she regains consciousness, and he and Binghe resume their meal and conversation in relative peace.
Even though it's clear that Luo Binghe has not yet reached the end of his tolerance for life, Shen Yuan nevertheless finds himself strangely reluctant to part ways at the end of the night. Still, he does, because that's what is expected of him, gently denying Luo Binghe's suggestions that they find some other establishment to continue their conversation at. He also has to investigate these "rumors" that the young lady mentioned. It's probably nothing (Shang Qinghua has a loose tongue when he's drunk, and a lot of imaginative storytellers have frequented this tea house over the years) but he doesn't like being caught unawares like that. Heavenly politics are... complicated, it's best not to court unwanted attention in any capacity.
Another hundred years go by. This time, when they meet at the tea house, Luo Binghe asks Shen Yuan why he keeps it up. Why did he pick Binghe? What is he really after? When Shen Yuan fails to give any kind of clear answer, Luo Binghe shoots his shot and makes a (very obvious) move on him.
Shen Yuan, flustered, gets up and flees. Ignoring Luo Binghe's calls after him. It just doesn't make any sense! Why would Binghe do that?! He's a man who once had a harem of wives in the triple digits! Clearly he's not gay, so what was that all about? Was he just messing with him?! How dare he! Etc, etc.
Another century passes. Luo Binghe waits at the tea house, which has fallen onto hard times again. With the construction of some new roadways, travelers no longer pass through as often. Binghe listens, worried, to the proprietor's laments that this old place will probably not be around in another hundred years. He listens because he has no one else to speak to, because Shen Yuan has not shown up. Not that morning, not during the day, not come evening, and not now that it is closing time. Binghe nevertheless charms and bribes the proprietor to let him stay even after the place has shuttered.
It seems damning, of course. He pressed too hard and now his mysterious benefactor wants nothing more to do with him. Except, no, he refuses to accept that. He's still immortal. And he has gleaned enough of Shen Yuan's character by now that he thinks that even if he was rejected, he would be let down more clearly and gently than this. The more he thinks about it, the less willing Luo Binghe is to believe that he has been deliberately stood up (also, since the tenor of his confession was different from Hob Gadling's, he never delivered an ultimatum about what it might imply when they met up again).
Over the centuries, Luo Binghe has built up a few contacts with similarly strange and supernatural stories. Cultivators, sure, but also others, fortune tellers and people of strange ancestry, questionable abilities, those who have interacted with powerful beings of mysterious provenance. He makes his way to a certain gambling den, frequented often by such people, and while he flashes around enough money to draw curiosity, he collects information. Shen Yuan wasn't the only person who started paying more attention to the kinds of rumors surrounding the two of them after their confrontation with the young cultivator a couple centuries ago. And in fact, Luo Binghe has been spending many, many years trying to find out more about his mystery man. Though, too many potential deities and immortals fit his description for him to have ever conclusively figured much out.
This is how Binghe gets wind of a rumor that an eccentric occultist has somehow captured a god in his basement...
#svsss#bingqiu#scum villain's self saving system#bingyuan#scum villain#long post#whoever the roderick burgess proxy is here he's got a big storm coming#going the classic dreamling fanfic route and having shen yuan get rescued instead of having to escape by himself#shang qinghua has definitely made other people immortal on various whims and impulses#he bestows his gift recklessly on a betrayed young prince at one point and the divine emperor is just like 'enough!'#'if you're doing to do this I'm going to make you babysit the results! you descend and work for that prince now!' so he's got his hands ful#dreamling might be the situation but shen yuan isn't much of a dream of the endless type#and luo binghe is nothing like hob gadling lol#'I want to live because I love life!' nope it's mostly about spite#the hardest part of this AU is imagining a universe where shen yuan would ignore luo binghe for long enough to let actual centuries pass
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✿ falling
summary: you've been anticipating simons return home for what feels like forever, but what happens when the day finally arrives and your body gives out?
wc: 2.4k
this is based on a suggestion I got! hope you all like it <3
there is no quite feeling like the one you get on the day of simons return. his return home.
after what feels like a whole lifetime of him being away on deployment, on frontlines, missions. doing and seeing things you can't imagine, even in your wildest dreams. things he would never explain to you in detail. wanting to spare you the image of the gruesome things that happen around the world. things that have been haunting his dreams for decades now, things that never leave your minds eye once you have been exposed to them. the gore and blood and death have settled themselves on simon. have coated his skin in crimson that never seems to wash off no matter how many days, weeks, years go by. anyone who has had the misfortune of running into ghost has not been able to ignore the demise being reflected back at them when looking into his eyes. he is a feared man, a man that people run from, shield themselves from.
and still you do nothing but worry for him.
with having little to no contact when he is away you cannot help but to worry about him. you don´t know whether he is safe or not, let alone where in the world he is at times, due to classified missions. sure you live your life. take care of the house, take walks with your dog, hang out with your friends. cafés, parties, museums. a normal life really.
except for the fact that for the life of you cannot fall asleep at night without fearing that your simon will not come home. that he is hungry, cold or exhausted. wherever he is.
that is why you've started a tradition of always cooking a big feast for him the day he comes home. always his favorite. a small gesture that made him feel like he was a worthy man. coming home to the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, an actual safe house, in comparison to the ones he stayed in during missions, and a warm meal made with love.
if there is such a thing as a heaven, simon is sure that coming home to you is what it feels like.
this particular morning he had called you while at the base to hear that pretty little voice of yours squeal with excitement as he told you about how him, as well as the other guys were safe and well, and that he would be boarding the aircraft shortly and be home by tonight. you immediately jumped off the bed, thrilled with the thought, no, the fact, that you would not have to spend any more nights alone in said bed. at least for a while.
jumping off the bed had made you dizzy. something you had been almost constantly for the past couple of weeks while simon was gone. starting off harmless with getting a bit dizzy when standing up too quickly to it being a persistent feeling, with having to sit down when standing up for too long due to the nauseating feeling of dizziness brought onto you. you had been a little worried about it, sure, but assumed it was a result of worrying too much and sleeping too little. and maybe it was. however that was something you had to look into some other day as today was the day your love comes home to you!
god knows how you have missed him. those safe arms of his, broad chest and deep eyes. his dad jokes, rough hands and sweet talk. his soft kisses, tall frame and protective thoughts.
the way he always touches you in one way or another. whether it was a hand on your thigh, head in the crock of your neck, arms wrapped around you. always keeping you close.
the way he is capable of making you see stars, knowing your body better than you did yourself at times.
"one more sweetheart" he'd always say. "give me one more".
and you always did.
spending hours into the nights leaving marks on your curves, and prepping soft kisses all over them in the mornings.
the way he never let you walk around outside alone when the sun had set.
the way you knew you could always confide in him, and him in you.
everything. you missed every single thing about that man when he was gone. and when he was home, there was nothing you were lacking.
that is how your thoughts raced throughout the day anyway, in the shower, the car, the grocery store and kitchen.
you had gotten yourself freshened up and was now preparing the last of dinner. with a light smile on your face the entire time you were cutting up vegetables and putting the meat in the oven, you were ignoring the fact that the unwanted sensation of dizziness had made itself known once again. so caught up in your thoughts and concentration on the cooking, you did not even hear the front door open. a pair of combat boots stepping in, a heavy duffle bag hitting the floor, a balaclava coming off.
"a sight for sore eyes" you suddenly hear the familiar voice of simon utter behind you. startled and surprised you quickly turn around, eyes wide and knife in hand until you see your tall man, leaning against the kitchen entrance, arms crossed and smirking at you.
you put the knife down before immediately taking off towards him with arms outstretched, a wide smile on your face and a squeal leaving your throat as you air his name. colliding with his steady build and wrapping your arms around his neck as he picks you up and spins you around. holding onto you as tightly as you hold onto him, months worth of worrying leaves your body and you can feel his own relaxing more and more with every second that passes.
"missed you so much" you whisper as he starts to put you down, your feet hitting the ground but never letting loose of the hold on you. "missed you more sweetheart. more than you know" he responds and you feel your eyes starting to gloss, tears threatening to spill while looking up at him. simon is here. in front of you. he is safe and sound.
home.
"none of that" he says with a light smile, putting a hand on your cheek and caressing your under eye with his thumb. almost daring the tears to spill, as if he was telling them that they wouldn't stand a chance against him. "not happy to see me darlin´?" simon jokes while maintaining eye contact. taking a mental picture of this moment, to think about while he is back in the barracks, alone and missing you.
you roll your eyes at his playfully in return. "the happiest" you answer before leaning up and locking your lips with his. it would be easy mistaking simon for a man starved considering the way he was kissing you. so intense, passionate. yeah, he had definitely missed you too. he was kissing you in a way you had only dreamt of being kissed like before you met him. feeling a familiar warmth in your lower stomach you pull away from his lips, but not without giving him a couple pecks first. chasing your lips for more, simon leans his forehead against yours, savoring the moment.
"i made your favourite, just the way you like. you must be starving" simon smirks before responding
"I could eat only you for all eternity and be satisfied"
you lower your face and giggle against him. oh you didn't mistake him for being starving. he is. "shut up si" you giggle "go take a quick shower and we'll eat" simon hums in response. he cannot deny the wonderful smell of a homemade meal hitting his senses the second he stepped into the house. he was definitely right.
heaven.
"care to join me sweetheart?" he raises his eyebrows in question.
"so eager" you tease back.
"is a man not allowed to miss his women nowadays hm?"
still giggling against him you now lean your head back, towards the ceiling and simon takes his opportunity to devour your throat. not even being home for 10 minutes before leaving marks on you. "shower simon. then dinner" you gasp into the air while playing with his hair, cherishing the way his lips feel on you. groaning onto your throat you hear him mumble a "so bossy" between kisses before lifting himself from you and letting you go.
"i`ll be quick"
"i´ll be waiting"
watching him walk to the bathroom to take a shower that you presume would probably last a honest 10 seconds, you walk back into the kitchen to set the table and prepare the last touches to the meal. only now noticing how the dizziness never really left. you are not pushed up against simon anymore, kissing him, which understandably results in feeling dizzy on war or another, so why has it not left?
"get it together" you mumble to yourself while pulling dishes from their places and setting them on the table. you have barely finished setting the table when you hear the shower turn off and half dried off simon appearing in the kitchen once again. now in his gray sweatpants and black compression shirt. so incredibly hot, you manage to think as you brace yourself by grabbing the table.
simon immediately frowns upon seeing you, smile fading from his lips and hands outstretched towards you in an act of instinct. "are you feeling alright darlin´?" he asks, voice filled with concern.
is it that obvious?
pulling yourself together you, for what feels like the hundred time today, ignore the dizziness and look up at your boyfriends concerned expression. ´the man just came back from deployment for gods sake, don't be dramatic, your thoughts continue to race as you focus on what you were about to do.
"i´m fine si, just need to get the meat out of the oven and well eat" you say and start making your way towards said oven. grabbing an oven mitt you lower yourself to open it.
grab the food. let it cool off. eat.
easy right?
no. the warmth of the inside of the oven finds its way straight to your face the second you pull it open, which only seems to worsen your dizziness. are your thoughts starting to dazzle too? is that simon saying something? why does it sound like you are underwater? god your face feels too hot, like it is burning up.
grab the food. let it cool off. eat.
managing grabbing the hot food with the oven mitt you as quickly as possible pull it out of the oven and onto the counter. the light headedness only getting worse by the action. simon is now next to you, clearly in distress. do not do this right now you tell yourself. simon just got home, he deserves peace and quiet for once, you continue to think as the the feeling of losing control hits you. is your vision going black? what is going on?
"si-" you manage to get out before your whole body goes numb, vision completely black. you are fainting. right into simons panicked and surprised arms. you were fine when he got home, right?
right?
simon catches your limp body before setting you to the floor, immediately checking your pulse. why had you fainted? where you sick? why didn't you tell him you were feeling bad? simon knew you often withheld information like this from him, claiming you "didn't want to bother him" and that "you were fine". if you only knew how absolutely nothing you did could ever bother him. he wanted to take care of you, to help you and be there for you like you always were for him. whatever the issue may be he would fix it for you.
all you had to do was to tell him about it.
the next thing you remember is hearing simons voice above you, slowly opening your lids and seeing him through confused eyes.
"god? am I dead?"
"no it's me. what's going on sweetheart? you fainted"
oh you said that out loud.
you push your hands to the floor and push, trying to get yourself up but a pair of rough hands stop you, one handing you a glass of water which you immediately grab a hold of with one of your own hands, taking a few sips and regaining consciousness and finally looking directly at the man sitting beside you.
"i´m sorry" you manage to get out while trying to avoid direct eye contact. this is not how tonight was supposed to go at all. you were supposed to have a nice dinner, catch up on all the details you have missed since he left, cuddle, kiss, fuck.
not this.
your thoughts are interrupted by simons hand on your jaw, pulling your face towards his to make you look him in the eye.
"talk to me"
"I've been feeling off lately" you let out embarrassingly.
"has this been happening a lot?"
"a bit"
"why didn't you tell me? you know who to call to get a hold of me in case of things like this. doesn't matter where i am, what time it is. you were supposed to call love"
"yeah in case of important things" you mumble and set the now half empty glass down on the floor, still looking directly into simons eyes as his thumb caresses your jaw.
"your health is important. in fact it is the number one most important thing of all important things. doesn't mean there has to be something underlying here. but if it has been happening a lo-
"i´m okay si, i promise" you try to smile at him, positioning yourself so that you can lean into him. head on his shoulder. his arm wrapping around your shoulders and his other hand grabbing your hand sitting in your lap.
"we're going to get it checked out tomorrow. a few tests will tell us all we need to know. just want you to be healthy and feel good sweetheart" he whispers into your hair, nuzzling into it and pressing soft kisses to it. "for now though, we're going to get some of that delicious looking meal you've prepared in this belly of yours and then you're going to tell me all about the things I´ve missed while I was gone, sound good?"
you nod onto his shoulder, a light smile coating your lips as you start to feel better. grateful to have someone to always lean onto whether you thought you needed it or not. simon was there.
"thank you simon, for being so good to me" you slowly lift your head to look at the beautiful man beside you, knowing that this is the one you are going to spend the rest of your life with. through thick and thin.
"always"
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FAMILY DINNER PART 4 (FINALE)
Summary: Chris joins your family for dinner for the first time and it does not go as planned
Tw: Swearing, narcissistic dad, verbal arguing, panic attack mentions of alcohol use, mentions of ed(NO DETAIL), lmk if I missed something
wc: 3.5k
a/n: so sorry this one took so long. I've been swamped with schoolwork and writers block. here's the long-awaited finale. feel free to leave ur thoughts in my inbox
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You turn around at the voice, as you recognize it, but can’t put your finger on it. You turn around to look at Nick, whose head is also turned to look in the direction of the voice. “Who’s that?” Nick asked, letting you go and moving so you could see the figure clearly.
You don’t recognize the person at first, but based on his familiar figure and his almost distinguishable voice, the dots connect in a moment's time.
You gasp, your hands covering your mouth as your heart jumps in your chest. Your eyes meet the familiar eyes of your older brother, Cam. He looks much different from the last time you saw him, his ginger hair grown past his ears, and he’s started growing a beard.
You don’t say a word before walking up to him. You reach up and touch his face to make sure he’s real, and you're not seeing things; something you wouldn’t put past yourself, as this entire night seems like some long, tragic, nightmare.
“I’ve missed you.” He whispers, pulling you into a much needed warm embrace. You bury your head in the crook of his neck as tears, ones that you thought you’d run out of, fall from your eyes and onto his shirt. “Missed you, too.” Your voice comes out muffled by his shirt.
You pull away and look at the stain on his shirt. “Oops.” You say, smiling, remembering how Cam used to complain about the tear stains on his shirt when you were younger, but you both knew it never really bothered him too much. “Damn it. It’s been like 20 seconds, and you’ve already got my shirt wet. Like you're doing it on purpose at this point.” he laughs. You slap his chest and laugh lightly.
The laughing dies down and you guys are met with awkward silence. “So, what the fuck happened around here?” he asked, breaking the silence. You look at him sadly, before your eyes drop to your shoes. “Oh, you know, just a good ole family dinner.” You glance up at Cam, whose lip curls upwards for a second, before dropping. “What happened?” he asked, softer this time, looking for more of an answer.
“Dad met my boyfriend.” You say. “I sent yo-” you cut yourself off as your eyes widened. “Wait, why’d you come, you never come.” You haven’t seen your brother in more than 5 years, and all the sudden he randomly shows up to a family dinner? You’ve sent him countless invites to the family gatherings, all were left unanswered.
“Well, I couldn’t miss another boyfriend meeting. Not after the last one. Plus, I didn’t get an invite last year or the year before, so I was really confused. I thought you guys finally realized how nothing ever changes.” His voice was calm, like it usually was, even when talking about something so emotional. You nodded, eyes lighting up once again, as you remember Nick is standing behind you. “That reminds me. Nick! Come here!” You raise your voice slightly at Nick, who is no more than ten feet away on his phone, probably texting Marylou and Jimmy about their situation.
Nick turns around and smiles, making his way to you both. “This is Chris’s brother, Nick. Nick, this is my older brother, Cam.” The men exchange greetings and Cam turns to you. “Where is your boyfriend, anyway?”
“Currently? Probably getting processed into the county jail.” Nick speaks bluntly. You and Cam look over at him, Cam more shocked than I am. “Seriously?” Cam’s eyes shoot to yours. You nod. “Holy, fuck, this is worse than last time.” he rubs his head, as you nod once again.
“What happened last time?” Nick asks, looking between you and Cam. Cam shakes his head, “Story for another time, but let’s just say he did not stay for dessert.” You laugh at the reference, shaking your head at the memory. Nick rolls his eyes. “How are we gonna get my brother out of jail?” he reminds you.
You sigh, “I don’t know if we can. Where the fuck are we gonna get sixty grand? I-I mean, we could make a go fund me, I’m certain your fans would be more than willing…” You truly have no other ideas, and as much as you didn’t want to use their fans for money, you were desperate. You could see Nick hesitate at the idea, knowing his PR team was gonna have a field day.
“Let me help.” Cam offers, shrugging it off. You and Nick both look at him. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.” You say, shaking your head.
“You didn’t ask, I offered.” he shrugged again. “Let me help.” he repeated, this time more sternly, as if every other suggestion was out of the question. You look at Nick who raises his eyebrows. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Nick responds, quickly embracing Cam.
Cam’s eyes widened, hesitating for a moment before hugging him back. You smile, knowing Cam was never the type to enjoy hugs or any sort of physical touch. “Alright, alright, if you hug me any tighter, you’ll pop my lungs.” he strained out.
Nick pulled away, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry.” He nervously shoved his hands in his pocket. You chuckle at Nick’s actions, before embracing Cam as well, yours a lot more heartfelt. “I’m so happy you’re back.” you mumble into his shoulder. He squeezes you tighter. “Happy to be back.”
_____
Cam now sat on the couch, checkbook open. You’d told your siblings he was back, and tears were shed. You had no idea where your mom was, nor did you care. She and your father were the least of your concerns, you just wanted your boyfriend. Even though it’s only been a couple hours, you were so worried about Chris.
You knew how much he liked to talk, and that scared the fuck outta you, but Matt assured you he knew how to shut the fuck up when he absolutely needed. If it came to his or his family’s safety, Chris would never speak again.
“Okay, okay, so I can get 2000 dollars from Mom and Dad, out of their retirement fund.” Nick spoke out, typing quickly on his phone. He had convinced Cam not to pay for it all because it was his brother, not Cam’s. Cam reluctantly agreed. Cam nodded at Nick’s words.
“I can give you guys 52 grand, I just won’t be able to get starbucks in the morning anymore.” He shrugged. You had learned that Cam was the CEO of a very prestigious clothing company, ‘Cam’s Clothing’, (very creative), which is where he got all this money from. “So with 52 grand, Peter’s grand, my two grand, and Nick’s 2 grand, it’s only 57,000 dollars.” You sigh.
“Yeah, but the officer only said it was an estimate. It may not be that much.” Matt chimed in, rubbing Maya’s back. She had refused to go upstairs again, and opted for sleeping on Matt’s lap. He didn’t mind, and you were too tired to fight it. Plus, you understood, Matt had been the closest thing to a father figure tonight, and Maya needed that.
The rest of the night consisted of you being held by Cam as he told you, your siblings, and Nick and Matt, stories about his life since he’d been gone. You were so happy he was back, and you let him distract you and your family from the tasks that were to come.
_____
The next week was spent sitting down with Chris’s lawyer, the triplets PR team, figuring out how to get him out of jail, and how to do so quietly. None of you cared if the internet knew, it was moreso the onslaught of opinions that would pop up from people who had no fucking idea what was going on. It’s been a week, and none of the triplets had posted anything, except for Nick posting on the group account that something came up and there wouldn’t be a video for a while.
And that alone was enough to send the fans into a spiral. All hell broke loose as theories and conspiracies flew towards the Sturniolos left and right. Some say Matt was sent to a mental institution, that one of the triplets was dying, that Chris and you broke up. It was chaos, causing you and the triplets to delete social media. You’d all be back, but you were already stressed as is, and you didn’t need to add dumbass rumors to the mix.
Tensions had already boiled over, when you went off on Matt because he blamed you for Chris going to jail in the first place.
“I can’t fucking believe your father put my brother in jail.” Matt scoffed. You both had been going back and forth playfully, until you made a joke Matt didn’t like, causing him to overstep. It had been a long day, as he hadn’t been sleeping and social media was getting in his head. You were just as stressed as Matt so of course the argument escalated.
“That’s got nothing to do with me, Matt! I told you all what was going to happen if we went! And if I remember correctly, youall said it was going to be fine! This isn’t fucking on me.” You spit out. You were glad your younger siblings weren’t home. They didn’t need to hate Matt, because you didn’t even if you were arguing with him.
“How the fuck was I supposed to know your bitchass dad was going to try and kill him?! This isn’t on anyone but you and your fucked up family!” he shouts. At that moment, you were also glad Peter and Cam weren’t home, because if they were, there would be a Sturniolo in the hospital, and a couple more charges on Peter.
“Matthew Bernard! What the fuck is your problem?!” Nick scolded. He’d been watching the argument unfold, not wanting to intervene, although now he wished he had. “Have you lost your fucking mind?!” Nick shouted at Matt, who looked at his shoes. You felt the hot tears roll down your face as you stared at Matt.
Your heart stung at his words, sure, but you always had a way of understanding when any of the triplets were overwhelmed. So, instead of shouting back at him, you walked up to him and took him into a tight embrace. He immediately broke down in your arms, his tears staining your shirt. His knees went weak and you slowly lowered both of you to the ground. Nick joined you shortly after, and the three of you spent the rest of that night crying in each other's arms.
So it’s safe to say social media had to go. That was a no brainer. So all of you deleted the apps, making sure the accounts stayed.
Now if someone were to ask you how you were doing, you would burst into tears. You missed your boyfriend and you worried about him constantly. Despite having talked to him everyday through the jail phone, updating him on progress, and him assuring you he was fine, you couldn’t help but hold the heavy weight of anxiety on your chest.
Your nails were bitten down to the nub from the chewing and you had rashes on your arms from scratching your skin as you thought about your boyfriend. Nick had to talk you out of driving to the jailhouse and demanding them to release your boyfriend, and Matt had to calm you down from multiple panic attacks you had just doing things that reminded you of him.
But finally, the day had come. Your dad and Chris in the courtroom, both in orange jumpers and handcuffs on their wrists, your dads arms behind his back, your boyfriends in front of him. Chris looked exhausted, and you assumed it’s because he never slept well by himself. His hair was unkempt and his stubble had started growing in, due to him not being able to shave. His bruises had mostly healed, except for the cut above his eyebrow you must’ve missed when he was in the cop car.
Your dad on the other hand, had 2 officers on each side of him, and his face was fucked up. He had a bruise along his jaw, along with a black eye and a bloody nose. You almost feel bad, but then remember he’s the whole reason you’re in this mess.
There’s no jury, so it’s just you, Nick, Matt, Cam, and Peter sitting in the courtroom. When Chris locks eyes with you, his face lights up and his eyes immediately fill with tears. Not only has he missed you, but he’s missed his brothers, his freedom, and his privacy.
The trial goes smoothly, the judge asks your dad to stop talking twice. Other than that, the trial continued without issues, both lawyers articulating their words carefully for the best outcome for their clients. The judge did not seem to bite the bait your dad’s lawyer laid out, seeing right through the fancy words to distract him from what was truly being implied.
You could tell by the way he looked unimpressed at your dad, even more so when he found out about his not so pretty criminal history. However, when it came down to it, Chris attacked him, despite the valid reasoning. The judge did recognize Chris’s clean record, not even having a parking ticket, which isn’t surprising considering the man didn’t have his license. Chris and his lawyer had their story down to a tee, while your dad and his lawyer struggled to cover up the holes forming in their version.
The judge noticed, of course, and he didn’t let them get away with it either. After what felt like years, the judge came to a conclusion.
“In the case of David, you’ll be sentenced to 3 years in the county penitentiary, with bail being posted at eighty-five thou-”
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me! He hit me! Why the fuck would I go to prison?!” Your dad cuts him off, ignoring his lawyer’s pleas. He had stood up, causing the officers around him to be on high alert.
“Sir, stop talking. If you find it hard to do so, you will be removed from the courtroom.” the judge deadpanned. Your dad grumbled under his breath before sitting back down reluctantly.
“Thank you.” he clears his throat. “Where was I-? Oh, okay. Bail will be posted at eighty five thousand dollars, with a year and a half of probation.” he sighs as he directs his attention to Chris.
“In the case of Chris, you will not have to go to prison.” You let out a deep breath you didn’t even know you were holding, clinging to Nick’s side, squeezing his bicep in anticipation. “However.”
Your heart dropped.
“You will be on probation for six months, because you did assault an officer. I understand you have two places of residence, so you can choose what state you’d like to be as you will not be able to leave.
The judge stacked his papers up before looking at the plaintiff. “Get him in a transport van. And get Mr. Sturniolo out of those handcuffs.” The plaintiff nods as he starts towards Chris. The judge smacked the gavel on the table.
“Case dismissed.”
You stand at the stove, stirring the steaming pot of spaghetti, humming to Right Here by Chase Atlantic. It’s been a month since Chris and your dad’s trial, and things have been… rocky to say the least. After getting a mouthful from your mother, she left the house without telling anyone her destination. You figured she just left to cool off, as she had before, but after a day, you began growing worried.
The second your call went to voicemail for the 45th time, you decided to file a missing persons report. Of course, they claimed they couldn’t do anything, especially after you slipped up and told them it’s happened before, they no longer took you seriously, despite you informing them that it’s never lasted this long before.
That following weeks, you decided that she probably wasn’t coming back, so you got temporary custody of your younger siblings. That’s the reason you're still in your hometown, cooking dinner for 9. You knew the boys would be hungry when they got back from James’s football game, and since they had already got takeout twice that week, you told Matt to just bring them home.
Jules and Maya went to a friend's house for a playdate, although Julia insisted it was a hangout. So that left you at home alone, which you didn’t mind considering you live with 9 people temporarily. But your peace is interrupted by the door unlocking, followed by lots of yelling.
You roll your eyes and turn your music off, as you know you won’t be able to hear it anyway. James is the first up the stairs with a giant smile on his face, running up to you. “I won the first game! I got the winning touchdown, and even though some bitch fucked up my shoulder, I was able to catch the ball!”
Your eyes widen as you look at Nick. “Why the fuck is my brother swearing like a sailor?!” You exclaim. “You told me you’d watch your mouth.” You point at Nick after turning the heat down on the stove.
“Why’d you assume it was me?! Matt spends more time with him!?” Nick raised his hands in defense. “Matt knows how to watch his mouth, unlike you!” you laugh.
“She’s got a point.” Matt spoke. Nick rolls his eyes and James looks at you with giant puppy eyes. “What?”
“I scored the winning touchdown!” he announced. You laughed, and engulfed him in a big hug, grimacing at his sweaty body. “Congratulations, kid. I’m proud of you. Now go shower, you stink.” you say pulling away.
“Thank you.” he looked up at you before sprinting up the stairs. You smile as you direct your attention to the rest of the boys that had walked in. Cam, Peter, and Nick got comfy on the couch, while Matt made his way to his room.
You smile at the last standing brunette, your beautiful boyfriend, taking his shoes off. “Hi, baby.” he says as he approaches you, resting his hands around your waist. You nuzzle your head into his chest, humming as you breathe in his scent. Ever since Chris got back, you’d be clinging to him like a koala.
“What’re you making?” he asks softly, guiding you both to the stove, curiously peering into the pot. “Chicken alfredo.” you reply, taking the boiling water off the hot eye. Noticing the sudden silence, you turn around to see all eyes on you.
“What?” you question, looking down at yourself, checking that you didn’t spill anything on your clothes. When you find nothing, you look back up. “What?” you repeat.
“Chris if you don’t fucking marry her, I will.” Nick finally says, causing Cam to laugh. You smile as you look at Chris, who practically has hearts in eyes. “Nah, bro, she’s all mine.” he smiles, approaching you and cupping your jaw with both hands, before kissing you passionately. You hesitate out of shock, before melting into the kiss.
You swear you could feel every word Chris wanted to say, in that one moment. You could feel every word of admiration, every word laced with love, all communicated to you through one kiss.
“Alright, alright, get a room.” Peter grimaces, turning back to the TV.
Chris pulls away, rolling his eyes. “With pleasure.” he said, grabbing your hand, pulling you behind him as he started towards the stairs.
“Ew!” Nick exclaimed.
“I should’ve shut my mouth.” Peter laughs, shaking his head. “Use protection!” Cam called after you, causing you to laugh out loud.
“Chris, what about dinner?” you ask as he tugs you up the stairs into the guest bedroom where you and him reside. “They can get takeout.” he muttered, closing the door as he pulled you into another loving kiss. You roll your eyes but sigh into the kiss anyway.
He leads you to the bed, pushing you down so he can hover over you. “You’re so fucking pretty.” he whispers before wrapping his lips around your neck. You whine as he sucks the spot on your neck.
“Chris..”
“Hm.”
“I love you.” He pulls away, placing a kiss on your lips. “I love you so much more, sweetheart.” he whispers as he rubs circles on your hips with his right hand. “Now, stay still.”
You latch your lips onto his, continuing the passionate make out Chris had started downstairs. His tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you open your mouth a little, as a battle for dominance ensues. You lose, as usual.
You both are interrupted by your phone buzzing, and you pull away as Chris whines. “Baby…”
“I know, hang on.” You open your phone and see a message from Cam.
|‘Dont be silly, wrap the willy’|
|‘No but fr, that mf better pull out, theres already to many kids’|
You laugh and show Chris the phone, and he smiles before rolling his eyes playfully. “Fine, now can we continue?”
You smile. “Yes, sir.” kissing Chris as he groans.
______________________________
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Thicker than Dragons Blood - ,, yandere Daemon Targaryen pining over Rhaenyra's friend
tw(s): yandere themes, suggestive themes (slight nsfw), grooming, dubcon, purity culture, misogny, stalkholm syndrome
✧ It all began the day that both you and Rhaenyra met in the nursery. Without the ability to speak, only to wail and babble, the two of you were instantly the closest of friends. There was no place where she went that you weren't either. You balanced out her reckless and bratty behavior. She wasn't the best friend to you, but you were stuck to her hip. You always took the fall for her so that she could keep her reputation untarnished. In those moments, you forgot your standing as a child of a noble—a Lord or Lady of a house standing strong. You always gifted her little things that you found as reminders of your bond. She paid you back through adventure and gossip. Occasionally, she would gaslight you if you heard something bad about her, but who wouldn't? She couldn't lose her best friend.
✧ In the back of those red-tinted memories was Daemon. Whenever he happened to be at the Red Keep, he always kept a close eye on what transpired between the both of you. At first, he saw an opportunity to stake his future claim as king by marrying Rhaenyra. Although his eyes always wandered to you. There was something about you that was just so innocent and corruptible. As you grew, so did Daemons intrigue with you. It soon ignited into a fiery infatuation, burning brighter than any flame in Old Valyria ever could.
✧ His interest, a word far too shallow to explain his attraction, was not unnoticed by your father, the head of your house. Daemon had many talks with your father. Your father did your best to sweet talk Daemon, but obviously he was able to see through it. He didn't need any convincing. That's how he became your tutor. He would spend all his free time dragging you away from Rhaenyra, forcing you to learn whatever he felt like teaching you that day. He wanted to cause a rift in your relationship with her. He was also beginning to feel possessive over you. Why has his neice caught your favor and not him? He could not allow this seemingly 'platonic' relationship with Rhaenyra to further escalate.
✧ The content of his teachings would seem less than savory to most. You had just barely risen past the age of a blooming maiden; that makes you fair game, correct? When you were in your younger years, he never taught you anything that could cause rumors to spread. After all, rumors in the Red Keep spread faster than a dragon's fire. He needed to make sure that you were old enough to keep your mouth shut. He needed to make sure that your age wouldn't be a problem. An age gap wouldn't cause rumors, but a child noble engaging in intimate acts like an adult prince? Unthinkable. He wouldn't ruin his reputation because of that.
✧ However, no gap in age or experience could stop him once you were old enough to be considered of age. He began teaching you the finer things in life, like how to please a man and how to please yourself. You were naive. You didn't know more than how a babe was made. You didn't realize everything was so complicated and embarrassing. He always stifles your moans during your private 'tutoring' sessions. He encourages you and tells you how good you are being. He speaks dirty words in your ears in High Valyrian. He gives you an extra reward if he can see you recognize some of the words in his teachings. It's an addiction for him. He can't get enough of your body and your figure. You had grown into yourself. It was a sight no other whore's body could even begin to match. The gods must have gifted you to him after everything he has done for the kingdoms.
✧ He gives you 'homework' and does more than just scold you if you don't complete it to his liking. Most of the time, he just enjoys watching you. Even after all his teachings, you are still so inexperienced. He hasn't taken the final step with you. He wouldn't take your full maidenhood yet, no. He simply couldn't. Not for any moral reasons. He just wanted you to keep your virtue a bit longer. That's one of the things that attracted him to you in the first place. He would have immediately taken any other slut, but you weren't that. You are a god(dess) among men. You deserve a romantic night filled with passion. A night where he can put a babe in you, fertile or not.
✧ As you began drifting away from Rhaenyra due to your tutoring sessions with Daemon, you were confronted. She clung onto you with tears in her eyes and asked why you didn't care about her anymore. She silently begged and pleaded for a good reason. Then she became enraged. She slapped you and demanded to know once again why you were drifting from her.
"Is it because of my uncle? Is your knowledge truly worth more than our lifelong partnership?"
You couldn't tell her the truth. You knew what you were engaging in with Daemon was scandalous. If you told Rhaenyra she may hate you, or even worse, use it to blackmail you so you are always by her side. You made up some flimsy excuse. You just said that you were insecure about always being near her, and Daemon said that she didn't like you anymore. That part about Daemon was partly true. He has been whispering lies to you about your relationship with Rhaenyra for years now. For better or for worse, you both are still as close as you were during your younger years, if not even closer now.
She finally calmed after you made your excuse. She didn't question its validity. She was just happy to finally have you back. She made you promise to stay away from Daemon as much as you possibly could. So, you did. Who were you to disobey the command of a princess, your closest companion?
✧ A sense of shame and dread fills you. You don't need a tutor anymore. After an hour-long argument with your father, he finally relents. He threatens that if their house falls out of the Targaryens good graces because you refused to be tutored by Daemon, he'll sell you out to a pleasure house. He didn't know how hard that hit you. You felt impure. You enjoyed what you did with Daemon. Why is that wrong? You were taught only to find pleasure in your future spouse. You found pleasure in him, and look where it got you. A strained relationship with your best friend that you had to fix, and your father threatening to sell you out to a whore house.
You feel like you are being attacked from all angles. Daemon begins to stalk you to get your attention. That's what you can call it, right? Stalking? You swear he's following you, even when he isn't. You thought you heard the guards speaking about reporting back to him. Something just feels more off about him whenever you get near him. Your mind began to repress all the memories of your intimate moments together. You just felt so confused, so lost, and so paranoid. Nothing felt right. You could barely remember your own name. At least you'll be able to find a suitor soon. You'll be able to put this all behind you. Not if Daemon has anything to do with it.
✧ After a few months, everything seems to be back to normal. There are no more of those weird tutoring sessions; you have rebuilt your relationship with Rhaenyra, and you even have some decent choices for a future spouse. You did have to carry on the bloodline as the eldest, after all.
Daemon, however, was far from 'normal'. Not that he ever was. Over those few months, people could notice the changes in him. He became more unhinged, erratic, and easily angered at the tiniest of mistakes. Behind closed doors, he was drinking all of the spirits he could get his hands on. He was spending triple the amount of time at brothels that he usually did. He forgot about everything else, except for the problem of the bronze bitch in the back of his mind. You were nothing like her. You were like a precious piece of jewelry made out of the finest gold and precious metals that were melted down by a dragon's breath. All he knew was that he needed to court you.
Not even commanding the Nights Watch could tame the beast within him. He flew Caraxes to contemplate. He would eye over where, somewhere off in the distance, you were in the castle. You were probably spending time with his neice, or gods forbid, another man, one of his men that he commands.
He's just never wanted anything more than you. He knows you aren't his kin or his blood. He knows that marrying you would be an impossible task. It would mean decreasing his chances of taking the throne. You had something, though; you had the Targaryen spirit in you. He could feel it every time he touched you. He could feel the heat simmering just beneath the skin. You were worthy of his seed and worthy of carrying his kin. He could always bribe one of his family members to use as a surrogate in case you have male genitalia or are infertile. Your babies would still be pure Targaryens that way. It just disgusts him to have to think of impregnating anyone but you.
✧ You had a tournament in honor of Rhaenyra finally being old enough to be courted. It was one that would end on a much lighter note, as opposed to the last one, which ended in her mother's death. It was partly your tournament as well. Well, that is what Daemon thought of it as. He would fight for you, and you alone. He understands that voicing this would be improper. You do see it in the way he glances at you while fighting in the rounds he is participating in. When he is not, he's staring into your soul. His eyes never leave your figure. You feel queasy; something is even more off about him now. Your ex-tutor didn't have any feelings past merely using you as another one of his flings; you tried to assure yourself. Only when the last round of the tournament was to commence did he ask for your favor instead of Rhaenyra's.
The crowd was shocked; some gasped, while others questioned the meaning of this. Was Daemon choosing you over Rhaenyra due to the infighting over who was to be the true heir of the Iron Throne? Was he simply being contrary, as always? Or did he want your favor because he harbored more than platonic feelings toward you?
It was unheard of, as it was customary for Targaryens to only ask for the favors of their family members.
He did the tournament. His actions made clear the message he intended to send; he did it for you.
Rhaenyra wasn't pleased. She threatened her uncle behind closed doors to stop hitting on her best friend. He laughed it off. He taunted her.
"As if there is anything you can do about it. They want me. They crave my touch."
✧ You only tried harder from then on to separate yourself from him. You purposefully avoided him, and it only became harder to do so. It was as if he had memorized your schedule by heart. Little notes and gifts began to be left on your bedding. They weren't signed, but you had a suspicion that it was Daemon's doing. You tried to express your concerns to your mother and father, only to be given a dismissive response. You tried to confide in your siblings, but your female one(s) only giggled and swooned over him. Your male one(s) simply huffed and waved you off, half-heartedly saying that they'd offer you some protection against the prince if the time came.
✧ You try to confront him. He admits that the gifts were from him. He doesn't admit the extent of his infatuation for you yet. You already seemed adamant on avoiding him. Scaring you off wouldn't do him any good because he still doesn't have a strong hold over the council or his brother. He promises to stop gifting you things and back off if you just do one thing with him. You reluctantly agreed without knowing what he was planning. If you knew it was to ride on Caraxes with him, then you would have simply walked off and not given his compromise another thought.
✧ You were intimidated by dragons; dare you say fearful of them. They always seemed to be able to pierce one's soul with their eyes. You refused to be near Rhaenyra's dragon, Syrax, for that exact reason. Now you were within ten feet of one, and you were practically trembling. Daemon was positively ecstatic underneath his facade of poised indifference. He would be able to exert control over you because of his title of dragon rider, if nothing else.
Syrax seemed like an innocent hare in comparison to Caraxes.
However, you surprisingly felt safe as Daemon placed your hand on Caraxes's scales. There was a certain vulnerability in Daemon's eyes that you had not seen before. He seemed to treasure these moments. Caraxes almost seemed to... like you? The dragon could sense his riders affection toward you. In turn, Caraxes felt the same need to protect you and be gentle. The beast even allowed you to scratch under his chin, a purr-like reaction emanating from his long throat. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before.
☾ The ride was breath-taking, both figuratively and literally. That's the only way you can describe it. It was the first time you felt safe around Daemon. He was in charge of making sure you felt comfortable in the air, his arms possessively at your sides as he controlled the reigns. He could feel your relaxed muscles against his toned chest. His heart swelled even further with an all-encompassing ecstasy that he had never had the pleasure of feeling before. Caraxes responded to both of you with a comforting roar, somewhere in between intimidating and reassuring. You had never felt true freedom in your life. For once, you felt it, even in the arms of someone you could consider an oppressor.
☾ You were aware of his wife. You knew that these strange feelings Daemon harbored for you had to be temporary. You at least admitted to yourself that he did hold some sort of romantic attraction to you. He admitted the least of it. Still, you fooled yourself into thinking they were temporary. Not just a fling, something more intimate but less binding than a marriage. Even with this knowledge, even after being introduced to Caraxes and riding him with Daemon, your hesitance was still fully rooted within your heart and mind—your soul. He took advantage of you before. You shudder at the thought. You enjoyed learning those things, but were you truly able to consent to them? You were of age. You push it away within your mind. It is the deepest reason for your hesitance, but you didn't want to think on it. Thinking of your tutoring sessions with Daemon only proved to fill you with heat and shame simultaneously.
☾ You chose to do your best to shake all of the invasive thoughts from your mind. You spent as much time as you could with Rhaenyra. She looked at you with such love and cowered behind you whenever things got too tough. From the shadows of the small council, one man in particular envied your relationship: Otto Hightower. He has taken to calling you 'Daemon's whore'. He has been the one since the beginning to spread whispers amongst those in the court about your loyalty to the crown.
Would you choose Daemon over Viserys?
That was a question many asked with their eyes and not their tongues. It was humiliating. You don't even want to associate with Daemon, and yet your time as his student has left your reputation forever scarred. Not to mention how many times you have chosen to state that Rhaenyra's mistakes were your own, for the sake of your friendship. Even with the whispers, it was not enough for Otto. He needed them to be screams. He needed everyone to see you as the whore you were! He has never grown soft towards you because of one simple fact: you threaten his entire plan for his family's ascension to the throne. Alicent has never been able to catch a Targaryen's attention, yet you are the best friend to one and the whore of another.
☾ It was a mistake for you to align yourself so closely with Rhaenyra. She ranted to you about what her fears were and how terrified she was at the possibility of not being the sole heir. You had to listen while Daemon plotted at Dragonstone. You hadn't seen him since the day you rode Caraxes with him. That was well over half a moon ago by now. You were relieved to finally be rid of his presence. Only you thought so. When the gods rose the moon high into the sky and nestled the sun beneath the cusp of the earth, he returned to you. That very night, after Rhaenyra had left your chambers, Daemon had snuck in. He surprised you and urged you to hush yourself.
You had no choice. He led you to the empty cradle, where the last heir passed after living for less than a day. There was a dragon egg in it. He whispered to you about all the things he wanted to do to you. He made a promise that one day your babe would be in the cradle, with his features and your personality.
It felt like a dream you would have after a fever. You still can't be sure it happened. After he left, the realm of dreams tugged you in once again. You woke up, and no trace of him was there. Daemon was getting bolder in his advances toward you. He still feared scaring you off completely, but he has to take what is rightfully his. He is the heir to the Iron Throne, after all.
☾ Years passed, and you grew older. Daemon was off fighting a war in the Stepstones; Alicent gave the king a male heir with another babe on the way; and Rhaenyra stuck closer to you than any tree sap could. Otto was less of a thorn in your side these days. As this time passed, you were plagued with tragedies every time you tried to take a lover. You were the eldest, and yet you were failing your house dearly. They tried their best to get you courted as well. Your entire family was just perplexed. Every suitor you were supposed to marry showed up dead before your wedding day. Were you cursed by the gods? It couldn't be Daemon, could it? It was so far away. He couldn't simply be orchestrating this while so far away.
It simply left you in tears every single time. Rhaenyra was your only solace. She grew more bratty and defiant of her father. She refused to marry that Lannister fellow. She rejoiced when your newest one came up dead. She couldn't help but smile. She didn't want you to get married and leave her. You both were meant to be companions. You are companions, the closest of them.
Still, your soul was aching, and your body was deprived of something it yearned for.
Were you really missing Daemon's odd behavior?
No, never.
Well, maybe.
☾ You didn't realize that perhaps you were even worried about him until he returned to the castle. It felt like a piece that had gone missing had finally returned. The king, his brother, was thankful for his submission and offered him one thing behind closed doors. What was that one thing you ask? Your hand in marriage. When Daemon strolled over to you and told you this, you were flabbergasted, even bamboozled. You couldn't just marry your best friend's uncle.
☾ You tried every excuse under the sun. You tried to say that you weren't up to the Targaryen standards of beauty; he said that you were created by the gods, so graceful and divine. You brought up the fact that you had no blood tied to Old Valyria; he stated that your soul was that of a dragon, more than worthy of his hand. You tried to reason with him by saying that he had another wife who he already struggled to take care of. That angered him.
"Don't ever speak about the bitch again, dear. Understand me?"
She died as you would learn later. Some sort of riding incident that led to her demise. You offered your condolences to Daemon. He laughed and said that he'd happily spit upon her rotting corpse. He didn't need to lie to you. He also wasn't compelled to tell the truth when you didn't ask for it. He'll make sure the whispers of him murdering his wife never reach your ears.
☾ Rhaenyra simply shrugged and thought that you marrying her uncle was at least a close match for her. She would still be able to speak with you. You would now be closer to her! She wasn't ecstatic, but pleased—maybe even smug. Whatever negative feelings she had toward her uncle being around you were clearly resolved. It only struck terror in your heart.
☾ Your family would help, right? No. Such a laughable thing. They were overjoyed. They also told you not to screw it up. Talks of the heirs you two would produce, the tie to the Targaryens bolstering your house's status, and many other reasons you didn't care to listen to.
☾ You were—are trapped. You were to marry a man that you couldn't make up your mind about. It could be worse. Every strange thing must have been because of the gods, right? If only you knew the lengths Daemon went to marry you. The people he threatened, the people he beheaded, the poisons traded in markets that aren't pure of heart but dark and foreboding. He finally felt at peace. So did Caraxes. Your family would be so perfect. He could already see you holding a babe in your arms that he had bred into you. Is this what you truly want? Or is that hesitancy in your soul still strong enough to pull you out of his hold and help you escape him?
#hotd#asoiaf#house of the dragon#daemon x reader#hotd daemon#daemon targaryen#prince daemon targaryen#the rogue prince#yandere daemon targaryen#yandere daemon#yandere daemon targaryen x reader#yandere daemon x reader#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon x you#daemon x y/n#yandere#yandere headcanons#yandere house of the dragon#yandere house of the dragon x reader
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ignite - lyney x reader
Summary: friends to enemies to lovers! ‘My enemy lost their memories and I couldn’t help but lie about our relationship’ trope
You used to work with the twins until you were betrayed by them (Lyney and Lynette had to be loyal to their mission). Things have been tense since, but now that you’ve gotten into an accident and woke up with amnesia… What are they going to do?
Wordcount: 1700+
Content note: mentions of Reader getting badly injured, but not explicitly described! Lyney used to have a budding crush on you before your fallout.
Adopt a Wanderer Fanbook: Digital Store
After the betrayal that sowed your hatred towards them, Lyney had tried to reach out three times.
Once, on the streets, where you briskly walked away. He sees you hiding a limp. Guilt eats up at him, remembering the way he and Lynette had to abandon the scene once they’d fulfilled their objective. They were still too young to even consider bending the rules of their mission, especially when turning their backs on you wasn’t meant to happen at all. They tried to give you a signal, but you noticed their retreat too late.
Next, when he sent you an invitation to their magic show. You didn’t bother showing up. He still wonders if you kept his letter after all this time.
Finally, when he showed up at your door. Lyney promised his sister this would be his last try.
It hurts more because he sees your expression and knows their betrayal struck you deeper than you cared to admit. The three of you had gone on many missions before when your organisation collaborated with the Fatui. You were friends, and bonds forged under life-threatening situations weaved deep.
So did Lyney’s attachment once he opened himself up. You stuck out your neck for both him and Lynette many times, and they also get used to returning the favour.
The three of you could’ve maintained a deadly alliance, if only you were still friends to this day.
Lyney’s apology reaches your ears. You listen, watch his body language, and move to open the door and gesture for him to leave.
“...You remind me a lot of your Father, now.” You’d said, avoiding his gaze. “I wish you and Lynette the best.”
The shadow of other circumstances cling to you, but it’s not his place to ask.
It’s unfortunate that Lyney has a bleeding heart and never let the memory of you go. In the past his feelings hadn’t fully bloomed yet, but certainly there was something budding whenever you fought battles together and had late-night dinners. You were both too busy trying to survive, but you were always his what if; what if you’d stayed close? What if that mission never went awry?
What if your circumstances were different?
So, when you finally run into each other again after two years, Lyney sees you at one of their missions and his heart stops beating. Because the underwater cave is collapsing and you’re not close enough to the exit to escape. And the next thing he knows his body moves to pull you out of the wreckage:
Not fast enough to get you out unscathed, but fast enough to save your life. You have a head injury but you’re still breathing. He and Lynette bring you back to the House of Hearth to get treated. His sister is the one to suggest bringing you back; Lyney is too distressed and neither of your organisations are very legal. You live the same lives from different parts of shadow.
However, soon after you wake up in the infirmary, the twins realise very quickly that you’re missing memories.
You don’t remember them, nor things about yourself.
It’s a bigger loss than either of them are willing to admit. Lynette glances at her brother—who in a split second goes from blank-faced and shocked into a smiling, kind magician.
He speaks to you like he would an injured child, but Lynette isn’t sure if this was to soothe you or himself, at this point.
“You were caught up in an accident, but you’re safe now.” Lyney says, kneeling down next to your bed. You’re still lying on your back, hesitating to move once you feel the bandages around your head.
“I remember a cave, and rocks falling…” You frown. “What was I doing in that kind of place?”
“Well, you’ve always been quite an adventurer.” Lynette raises her brow silently as Lyney spins a lie. “Me and my sister Lynette were in your travelling party. But since you got injured, we brought you to our home to get treated.”
“...I see.” You mutter, looking around. When you spot Lynette standing a bit behind her brother, you give her an unsure smile. “This is a safe place, right?”
Yes. But your un-amnesiac self might not agree. “Yes.” Lynette answers, before looking at Lyney. “My brother was a mess when you wouldn’t wake up. We’re both glad you’re fine.”
“Lynette!”
“Thank you for looking after me.” You hold back a chuckle. “I’m afraid I can’t remember much, but you’re both clearly very close.”
“You can stay here as long as you need to recover.” Lyney promises, before the twins excuse themselves to get you some food.
-
As the days pass and your memories show no sign of improvement, Lyney’s resolve starts to crumble. It’s been so long since you looked at him or his family with warmth.
Before, it was hidden behind a straight posture as you leaned against the wall, observing the younger children while they played. He’d admired you quietly from the sidelines, thinking it held a certain charm when paired with your combative prowess.
Now that the shield you put between yourself and the world is gone, and Lyney is getting much too attached every time you look up from a book you’re reading, innocently curious and trusting. ‘What’s up?’ You might ask. And Lyney would make small talk or tell you stories about the house.
But once he runs out of stories, how much longer before your sharp mind catches on? And will Lyney get away with this betrayal of trust again, without meeting your blades?
“This isn’t a magic trick, Lyney. You’re going to get the both of you hurt.”
“That’s only if they recover their memories. And if they do grow enough reasons to hate me, that means I did a great job of nursing them to health.”
“They never hated us, before.” Lynette frowns.
“But they never would’ve treated us so warmly again, either.”
Lyney spends his free time researching you; catching up on the two years of your fallout. What your habits were, and how you’re seen by others—so that he has a better idea of how to prompt the return of your memories.
Sitting down to tell you stories about yourself has become part of Lyney’s routine. He fabricates some details, but keeps facts intact. And when you ask Lyney how he knows so much about you, he spins a white lie of saying you’re close friends.
“This is you, isn’t it?”
Lyney’s heart drops when he sees an image of himself on the newspaper, but relief washes in once he realises it’s just about his previous show.
Not the scandal about him and Lynette being part of the Fatui.
Laughing sheepishly in an attempt to cover up the racing of his heart, Lyney accepts the paper from your hands and traces his gaze over the headlines. “Looks like our newest trick was quite successful.”
“You never told me how popular you are. I didn’t think I was friends with a celebrity.” You joke. To be honest, your main impression of Lyney has been from around the house—he’s reliable and dotes on his siblings, always willing to perform a trick or two to entertain them.
Lyney’s heart twinges. “It’s only my job,” he says, but the simple joy he feels from your praise is dangerous. This is you, but you’re incomplete. Without memories. And he should never wish that you’d stay like this, in a state where you’d give him a little smile at the end of a long talk that he’s grown weak to. Or gotten closer to his younger siblings, or even built a music box with Freminet who’s no less than shy; and even if this feels like his what ifs are all coming true, Lyney is crushed by the knowledge that it could collapse at any minute. “I’m just glad if my performances can bring smiles to the crowd.”
It’s not just your lowered guard that’s different, but the fact that Lyney’s never seen you freed from your responsibilities. And within this sphere, he feels a tiny bit of escapism himself.
“Lyney, I know you said we were friends, but…” Your brows furrow. “Was that really all we were?”
Lyney freezes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… Lynette always looks at us a certain way when we’re talking. And the children tell me we were particularly close.” You take a deep breath. “I guess what I mean to ask is: were we ever… involved?”
Lyney’s face has turned a bright red.
“I— You don’t have to answer if it’s too awkward!” You try to salvage. “It’s a stupid question, forget about it.”
“No no, it’s not stupid at all!” He exclaims, quickly turning towards the first-aid kit he’s put on the table to distract himself. His hands remember how to work, so it’s only his brain that’s scrambled. “I mean, we were definitely… Um.” Lyney, think! “We were close.” He finishes lamely. “But I would be lying if I said I never considered you special to me.”
While Lyney changes your bandages, you press your lips together and study his body language. You can tell that he sometimes omits things in conversation, and while you also know that he’s busy, Lyney’s been staying with you for longer times these days. Having heavier conversations, letting his smiles border on something doting—but you can’t let yourself fall into this lulling dynamic until you have some clarification of what you two are.
Ever since you’ve woken up, you’ve felt like you were in a warm, sunlight-tinted world within the comforts of the House of Hearth. You vaguely know of this place’s past, but something is missing from your memory. And you’re terrified at the idea that once you step outside, you’ll learn that none of this little world was actually real.
“What if I told you we were lovers?”
That snaps you back to reality.
“What?” You echo in surprise. But when Lyney’s lilac gaze meets yours, you’re surprised by how determined they look. Like a soldier taking a stand.
But only Lyney knows that this decision will make or break things in the future. Despite that, he reaches out for the chance to live through his what if for just a little longer.
When he reaches out to entwine your fingers, you don’t pull away. He knows deep down that he’d still try to help you regain your memories, even if that means things might end in flames.
#lyney x reader#lyney genshin#lyney x you#lyney x y/n#genshin x reader#genshin reader insert#genshin writing#genshin impact imagines#genshin x you#genshin scenarios#traveler wishes
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stepdad negan stepdad negan stepdad negan stepdad negan
his pretty lil stepdaughter and stepdad negan
Daddy Issues
Warnings: 18+, smut, slow burn with lots of sexual tension, time jumps (reader ages from 18-20, negan is in his 40s), age-gap, very taboo relationship (if this isn’t your thing, pls don’t read), p in v, extreme daddy kink, oral (both), masturbating in front of him, lots of dirty talk (negan being absolutely filthy), breeding
“Isn’t your dad home?”
“He’s asleep, don’t worry.” You smiled, pulling your boyfriend by his shirt and kissing him. It was a quarter past midnight, there was no way Negan would still be waiting up on you. You discarded your clothes on the living room floor before bending over the couch. Your knees pressed into the cushions while your boyfriend lined himself up behind you and entered you with one quick thrust.
You moaned, resting your forehead on the arm of the couch while he plowed into you from behind. He gripped your hair and pulled, forcing you to look up. And when you did, you locked eyes with your stepdad standing in the door frame to the hallway just across the living room. His dark gaze was fixed on you, an unreadable expression on his face as he stood with his arms crossed.
Your boyfriend must not have noticed him, because his thrusting didn’t stop and only became harder, making you gasp. You couldn’t look away from Negan, being intrigued by his willingness to stay and watch you. Moaning even louder, you put on a show for him. Negan’s gaze roamed to your breasts that were bouncing with each thrust before slowly trailing back to your eyes.
Like you had fantasized about a million times, you imagined that it was Negan behind you, and that thought alone was enough to make you come undone.
“Daddyyy!” You cried out, making a small smirk appear on Negan’s face before he disappeared down the hall and to his bedroom.
2 years later:
Negan never told your mom what happened. In fact, he never even mentioned it to you either. It was like the entire thing never happened. Your mom started working out of town more and more. In fact, she was hardly ever home, which made Negan step up and become the strict parent. It was super annoying, especially when he would lecture you about your clothing.
“I’m 20.” You scoffed like you couldn’t believe this was even an issue. When are you going to start treating me like an adult?!”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Go change, now.”
“Make me.” You realized how childish it sounded coming out of your mouth, but you didn’t care. You wanted to push his buttons.
“Do not test me, sweetheart.”
You crossed your arms defiantly, looking up at him, unwilling to move. Before you realized what was happening, you were being thrown over his shoulder. You yelped, trying to grab him, but his grasp was tight on your back thigh as you hung upside down. He carried you up the stairs without saying a word.
“Is this necessary?” You yelled, blood rushing to your head.
When he made it to your bedroom, he kicked the door open and threw you on the bed.
“What is wrong with you?!” You screamed.
He ignored you again, going to your closet and shifting through all your clothes before finding a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt to throw at you.
“Are you serious? It’s the middle of summer.” You threw the clothes back at him.
“Maybe if you owned a pair of decent shorts, this wouldn’t be an issue.”
You stared at him in disbelief. He wasn’t joking. He leaned against the doorframe of your closet and your mind flashed back to the moment 2 years ago - an image you replay in your head often.
“Fine.” You stood and removed your shirt, revealing a pink bra underneath.
“Y/n.” He warned. “What are you doing?” His voice was almost a whisper.
“Changing.” You shrugged, pulling off your skirt, leaving you in nothing but a small pair of panties that matched your bra.
Negan’s eyes remained on yours, refusing to look down at your body.
“What’s wrong? Nothing you haven’t seen before.” You smirked.
“You’re grounded. You can forget about going out tonight.”
“Then I guess I won’t need this either.” You hummed, unclasping your bra and dropping it to the floor.
He gave in this time, dropping his eyes to your breasts. His jaw flexed like he was holding himself back.
“Bringing back memories, daddy?”
He walked towards you, stopping when he was close enough to look down at you.
“What would your mother say if she knew what a little slut you were?”
“Doesn’t matter. I have no respect for her after I found out she cheated on you.”
Negan’s brows scrunched together as he searched your eyes. You bent over, pressing your ass to his crotch as you pulled your phone from your skirt pocket that was on the floor. He sighed frustratedly, taking a step back.
You handed him your phone after clicking on your mom’s messages. You almost felt bad for telling her secret, but she deserved it. Negan was so good to her and deserved to know the truth. His expression was blank as he read through the proof.
“I thought you deserved to know. I’m sorry.” You said sincerely.
He tossed the phone on the bed behind you. “Thanks, but I already knew.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“I found out a while ago after seeing a text from him on her phone.”
“Oh.. then why are you still with her?” You asked, suddenly feeling silly being almost naked in front of him during a serious conversation.
“Somebody’s gotta take care of you.” He raised his eyebrows before turning and leaving your room. “Oh, and I meant what I said by the way. You’re grounded. For the rest of the weekend. And put some damn clothes on.” He said, shutting your door and leaving you in the uncomfortable silence of your room.
The next day:
You’ve spent the majority of the day in your room, transitioning between a book and scrolling on your phone. Anything to take your mind off the awkwardness of yesterday.
Negan has barely said a word to you in the couple times you’ve seen him today. Out of boredom, you decided to pop in your earbuds and watch an adult video on your phone. You found your favorite stepdad video that portrayed a man who looked extremely similar to Negan and your hand drifted underneath the covers as you played with yourself.
The volume on your earbuds was turned up to the max, so you didn’t hear your bedroom door open. You were so caught up in the moment, you didn’t notice him approaching you either until your phone was ripped from your hand. Pulling the blanket over yourself, you quickly shot up and pulled out your earbuds.
“What the fuck?!” You yelled, turning a bright shade of red when you realized he was watching the video. His expression was unreadable as he watched it for a moment and you wondered if he liked it. Turning the phone around to you, he raised his eyebrows.
“Seriously?” He said, reading the title of the video out loud and you wanted to die of embarrassment.
You jerked the phone out of his hand. “What happened to knocking? And what gives you the right to just take my phone? I’m an adult.”
“First of all, I did knock but clearly -" He paused, glancing at your phone before continuing. "..You didn’t hear me. Secondly, I pay for your phone, sweetheart. I can look at whatever I want.”
You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Okay, so now what? I’m grounded even longer?"
“No. Now? You’re going to finish.”
Negan removed the blanket from your body and continued standing at the side of your bed. His hands slipped in his pockets and he nodded, giving you permission to continue.
“Are...are you serious…?”
“Orrr you can stay grounded. It’s up to you.”
You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He wanted to watch you touch yourself. You adjusted yourself slightly, so that he could see your pussy completely. You were only in your panties and felt the wet spot that had already formed on them.
You moved your panties to the side with one hand, giving him a better view. Seeing him watch you with his eyes blown with lust was enough to make you wetter before you even touched yourself again. Reaching your other hand down, you ran a finger through your slit, getting it wet before circling your clit.
He didn’t take his eyes off your pussy and his jaw flexed when your finger dipped inside. Wet sounds filled the room as you started to moan softly, seeing the bulge in his pants grow bigger by the second.
“Negan.. I need your help, please.” You begged. His eyes met yours but he didn’t answer you. You could see he was losing his mind inside, and you knew you were close to breaking him.
“Can I just see it?” You asked, referring to his cock. “I’ve always wanted to know. Please?”
“No. Now be a good girl and show me what you can do. We both know you don’t need my help.” His adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he restrained himself. You did as he said, moaning louder and rubbing your clit faster. You felt your orgasm building quickly and your breaths became frequent and shallow as you locked eyes with him.
“Daddy…” You whined.
As soon as the word came off your tongue, Negan caved - diving between your legs as he spread them wider. You held your panties back further, giving him more access and immediately cried out when his tongue dipped inside of you.
He groaned into you, burying his face deeper and licking every drop as you rode out your orgasm. You tried gripping his hair but he had already pulled away and took a few steps back. You sat up quickly, not wanting him to leave.
"Negan.."
“Fuck. That should not have happened."
“No, wait-“ You tried to explain but he left your room, closing the door behind him.
A few hours later:
“Come in.” You responded to the knock on your door.
“Hey kiddo, listen. About earlier.”
“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” You said, keeping your eyes on your book.
He sighed, dropping his head. “It can't happen again. It shouldn't have in the first place. That was my fault, and I shouldn't-
You slammed your book shut, looking at him annoyed. "It wasn't your fault. I tried to seduce you.. more than once. And failed miserably. And honestly, I'm embarrassed, so please. Let's just forget about it."
"Sweetheart." He walked towards your bed, sitting at the edge. "You don't have to be embarrassed."
"You've seen me naked. And didn't do anything. You obviously don't want me or find me attractive, and I get that now."
"Woah, slow down." His large hand slid over your leg to comfort you. "You? Are the most beautiful thing in the world to me, y/n. You know that. But I-"
"But you don't want me in that way."
"Baby, this is about what I can't have. Not what I want."
"If you never met my mom, and we ran into each other.. would you..?" Your cheeks turned pink and you couldn't finish your question.
"Yes. Without question, darlin'."
A tear slipped down your cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb, looking down at you like he wanted to take your pain away.
"I wish you would have met me first." You whispered.
He got up and kissed your forehead. "Me too." He mumbled, and you questioned if he actually said it or if you just heard it in your head.
You stopped him before he left the room. "Negan?"
"Yea, doll?"
"Am I still grounded?"
He laughed, thinking for a moment. "Why? Somewhere you need to be?"
"No, actually, I was thinking we could.. spend some time together tonight and watch a movie in the theater room like we used to?"
"Abso-fuckin'-lutely, sweetheart. You gonna let me choose the movie for once?"
"Not a chance." You laughed, knowing you always get your way. And you always will.
Later that night:
The smell of buttery popcorn filtered through your bedroom as you stepped out of the shower. You couldn't help but smile as you got ready for movie night, smothering your skin in your favorite lotion and pulling on your cheekiest pair of underwear. You dug through your t-shirt drawer, pulling out one of Negan's old rock band tees that you stole years ago. It was big enough on you to cover your ass, so you passed on wearing pants.
“So that’s where that shirt went.” He laughed as you walked into the kitchen. “Been looking everywhere for it."
“Oh, I didn’t think you wore it anymore. You can have it back.” You said, making note of how good he looked. His hair was damp from a shower and grey sweatpants rested low on his waist, not leaving much to your imagination. You tried not to stare at the outline of his manhood, but it was impossible not to.
Negan approached you, handing you the popcorn bowl and your favorite candy while he grabbed your drinks.
“No way, darlin’. It looks much better on you.” His tone was flirty as he stood towering beside you, darting his tongue out to slide seductively over his bottom lip. He smelled amazing, too - like leather soap.
"Decide on a movie?" He asked, following behind you down the stairs to the renovated movie room. You had spent so many weekend nights in here as a kid but this was the first time you and Negan would be spending it together alone.
"I was thinking something we haven't seen before. There's a scary movie out that looks good."
"You hate scary movies." He chuckled, setting down the drinks on the coffee table and you did the same, picking up the remote and finding the movie.
"Yeah when I was a kid." You laughed. "Not anymore."
You started the movie and turned off the lights as Negan got settled in his usual spot - the wide chaise lounge end of the sectional where he could rest his legs out in front of him. The couch was hugely oversized, with the lounge part almost the size of a full bed.
You made your way over to the other side of the couch, trying to give him his space and not make it weird.
“The hell are you doing?”
You gave him a weird look. What do you mean?”
“You always sit next to me on movie night. Get your ass over here."
You hoped he couldn't see the excitement on your face as your heart beat out of his chest. He was right - you did always snuggle next to him during movie nights. But that was years ago, before you could look at him without imaging him on top of you screwing your brains out.
“Just like old times, huh?” You grinned, glancing at him as you both munched on the popcorn and watched the slow intro of the movie. You could sense his gaze on you but kept yours on the screen.
“Not exactly.”
“What’s different now?” You asked innocently.
His voice was low and raspy when he answered. “I know how your pussy tastes.”
Your face turned pink and butterflies in your stomach came to life. You didn’t know what to say, so you just looked at him. There was a small smirk on his face and his eyes dropped to your mouth. You were seconds away from crashing your lips to his when a girl in the movie screamed. Negan cleared his throat and focused his attention back to the movie, so you did the same, trying to calm down your racing heart in the process.
You both sat in silence for awhile before Negan leaned over you to put the popcorn on the table. When he settled back into the couch, his arm slid around your back as his thumb slipped underneath your shirt, holding your waist. You felt like your skin was on fire.
He noticed the goosebumps on your bare legs as you shivered from his touch. Reaching for the blanket draped over the back of the couch, he covered you both and you took the opportunity to snuggle into him closer, resting your head on his shoulder and laying your hand over his toned stomach. You wanted to slip your hand under his shirt too but you were frozen, waiting for him to make the next move.
Half of the movie flew by and you had no idea what was going on. All you could think about was Negan. You hid your face during the jump scares each time, using it as an excuse to bury your face in his shirt and smell his manly scent.
"You can look now." He chuckled. You slowly lifted your head from his shirt, and when you did, you locked eyes with him. His hand slid against your cheek, cupping your jaw before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours softly.
You kissed him back, and he deepened the kiss when he knew you were comfortable with it, letting his tongue slip past your lips and rub against yours. You accidentally whimpered as his other hand finally moved lower on your hip. His fingers teased the edge of your panties before dipping in a few inches until his hand was fully pressed against your ass cheek while he kissed you.
You followed his lead, sliding your hand lower on his stomach until it reached the top of his sweatpants. You felt his dick grow underneath your touch and stroked him through the material. Negan’s hips lifted slightly as he moaned into your mouth.
“I wanna taste you here, too, daddy.” You said, finally pulling away from his mouth and sliding his sweatpants down in the front.
“Baby….” He warned, but he didn’t tell you to stop. So you pushed the material down further until his cock sprang free and bounced against his stomach.
“It’s so big and.. pretty.” You said amazed as you stroked it. You studied the veins in it and noted how tiny your hand looked in comparison.
He chuckled softly, dipping his fingers deeper in your panties until they reached your soaked cunt from behind. “Not as pretty as this little pussy.”
You moaned, pushing your ass into his touch until his finger slid inside you. “Fuckin’ leaking for daddy already.”
You tried to focus on his cock while he fingered you, taking the tip in your mouth and getting it wet before letting it slide to the back of your throat.
“Ahhhh shit, baby, that’s it.” He groaned, leaning his head back with pleasure. You bobbed your head up and down his length while his free hand tangled in your hair and guided you.
“You are fantastic at this, baby girl. Making daddy feel so fucking good.”
A bead of his precum leaked into your mouth and you moaned around his cock, loving the taste of it. Finally coming up for air, you took a deep breath before he pulled you to his lips again and kissed you harder than before. You climbed over him, straddling his lap as he sank a little lower on the couch. Both of his hands reached in your panties and gripped your ass while you hovered over him, feeling his cock brush against you teasingly.
“Negan.. please.. I need you inside me.” You begged between kisses, making him instantly rip your panties apart with his hands before tossing them to the floor.
He guided you by your hips until the tip of his rock hard cock was aligned perfectly with your throbbing entrance.
"You sure this is what you want, baby?"
You answered him by sliding down and taking him as far as you could, stopping when it reached your limit. You whimpered at the pain of trying to take him deeper.
“Come on, doll. You wanted me so bad and now you’ve got me. Take it all.”
You couldn’t believe this was happening. You had never heard him talk this way. Not even through the walls when he fucked your mom. You bit down on your lip and sat on him completely, letting him reach a spot that no one had reached before.
“Oh my god.. fuck.. it hurts.” But in the best, otherworldly way.
“Look at me.” He gripped your jaw. “Focus on me, baby." He whispered, encouraging you trust him while you adjust to his size. You leaned your forehead against his as you started to move up and down. Slowly the pain was replaced with pure pleasure. A feeling you never knew existed before him.
“There you go, baby. Just like that.” He grunted, slipping his hands underneath your shirt and squeezing your tits. "Fuck, doll. You're making me feel so damn good."
Your cheeks were flushed while you moaned and buried your face into the side of his neck. His hands returned to your ass as he helped you bounce up and down on him faster.
Wet slapping sounds and moans from both of you echoed in the room like surround sound, drowning out the movie.
“Negan." You whined in his ear while grabbing at his hair. "I'm-" You couldn't finish your sentence. Your core tightened and your vision went blurry when warm liquid suddenly poured out of you and all over his lap.
“Fuuuck yes, that's my girl.” He groaned, looking down between you at the feeling of your juices coating his cock. He gave your ass a light smack before standing up and bending you over the couch. You still felt lightheaded when he entered you from behind, harder and somehow deeper this time.
“Oh my god! Negan!”
“Who?” He asked, jerking your hair back so that your back arched perfectly.
“Daddy!!” You corrected yourself, earning a small chuckle from him as he fucked you harder and faster.
“Ohh baby, you are such a good girl, taking daddy’s cock like this. You know how bad I’ve wanted to bend you over this fucking couch?”
You answered him with a louder moan while his balls slapped against your skin.
He laughed, breathlessly, pulling you back further by your hair until your back was pressed against his chest. "That day you teased me with your little prick boyfriend? ... It took everything in me not to walk over and fuck you myself. I should have made him watch instead so he could hear what you sound like when you actually cum."
"You should have." You moaned, barely about to speak.
He sucked on your neck before reaching around your waist and finding your clit. You leaned heavily against him as your felt another orgasm growing.
“Negan.. will you cum in me?”
He groaned in your ear. “I can’t baby. We can’t risk that.”
“Don’t you love me, daddy?” You asked innocently.
“So fucking much, sweetheart.” His thrusts became faster and his breathing was unsteady, telling you he was close.
“Then prove it.. Please daddy, cum in me.”
That was all it took for him to let out a loud, long groan and you knew from the way he stopped deep inside of you that ropes of his seed were splattering your walls. You came right after him, being completely sent over the edge with knowing your pussy was full of his cum. You both breathed heavily, coming down from your high before he finally pulled out of you.
“Goddamn. And here I thought you had me wrapped around your finger before. Now? You are mine, all of you, baby.” He said, pulling you in for a kiss.
“Negan.. what are we gonna do?” You asked worried.
“We’ll figure that out later, sweetheart. Right now? I wanna take you up to your room and eat that sweet pussy out till morning.”
#jeffrey dean morgan#negan#negan fanfiction#jdmorgan#jdm fanfiction#negan smith#jdm x reader#twd negan#jeffrey dean morgan x reader#jdmfanfiction#jdm x you#jdm oneshot#jdm fanfic#jdm imagine#jdm smut#daddy negan#negan x reader#negan imagine#negan smith smut#negan smith fanfiction#negan smith x you#negan x y/n#negan x you#negan smith x reader#negan smut#jdmorgan fanfiction
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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love
Chapter 16: Please Come Back To Me
Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV
Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter sixteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)
Word Count: 7.6K (You know you love it)
Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Alot of Angst, Crying, Heartbreak, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.
Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
Additional Warning: This chapter contains severe amounts of fluff and angst. Ben is SUPER OOC and really soft in this chapter, I will not apologize for that, but I will say you're welcome 😉 If you don't like either of those things, then probably shouldn't read this?
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When you wake up you think you dreamed it all, but one look at your blotchy red face in the mirror of your bathroom, dried snot on your shirt, and your inability to find your phone means that it did happen.
Ben was back and you didn't know where to go from here.
Bits and pieces of the conversation explode in your head like fireworks and your grip on the bathroom sink tightens so much that the countertop cracks beneath your hands.
Shit.
You extract your fingers from the marble that crumbled like gravel in your iron grip and glance down at your watch. You’d been asleep for 7 hours, which meant that now it was 10 pm and you probably weren't going to sleep tonight.
As if you could after everything that just happened.
Honestly, you were surprised that you had been able to, but you figured it was just the exhaustion of everything that happened, the heartbreak, the shouting, the tears, the inability of you to let go of the past, and Ben's confession of love that you waited 80 years to hear. You had wondered in the past if he wanted to say it the night that you decided to come with him, if he really did care for you as much as you cared for him all these years. Now that you knew, you wish you didn't. You wish that you could let him go, let go of the things that happened all those years ago, and wish that you hadn't fallen for him and expected him to catch you.
You think about crawling back into bed and hugging your pillow until you fall asleep so you don’t have to think about Ben. You wince at the thought of his name.
He apologized, admitted that he loved me, said that what he did was wrong, said that he wouldn’t leave- The urge to cry lodges in the back of your throat. How do I have any tears left?
You think about how much you wanted to run to him, to throw yourself into his arms, but you knew that you shouldn't want to. Ben broke you. What he did weighed on your heart everyday, but you wanted to forgive him.
How can I still want him as much as I do? How can I want him to fix this even after he did everything he could to push me away?
The look in his eyes when he confessed his feelings to you flashes through your mind in black and white.
Ben admitted weakness, said that he was scared of all things. Ben wasn't afraid of anything.
Over 40 years of friendship meant that you knew every part of him, but the part you had seen in your apartment, him practically begging you to forgive him was not one that you were used to and was not one that you had ever seen.
It was unusual for him to look broken and vulnerable.
The closest you'd ever come to seeing it was on the nights back in Philadelphia when he tapped on your window, on nights when his father gave him a hard time and Ben needed a place to crash. When the look in his eyes made you want to pull him into your arms and never let him go, to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that he wasn't a disappointment. Because despite everything with Countess, Ben wasn't a disappointment to you.
Everything was easier when you were kids, when Ben would fall asleep beside you in your bed and when you woke up in his arms, you wished that he did it on purpose.
I guess he was trying to say that he did it on purpose. You sigh as you walk into your closet to find a soft t-shirt while avoiding the duffle bag that you threw inside the double doors before you collapsed onto the bed.
But even if he was sorry, how do I know he won’t just act like the boy I used to know and tomorrow pretend he doesn’t exist? It was so easy for him to do that, to say that I meant nothing to him, to act like he didn't care.
You think about the morning after your birthday, when he looked soft and happy in your bed and how quickly he shifted into the cold mask he wore as Soldier Boy. How easy it was for him to push you away and ignore you, act like you didn’t exist and cling to Countess at the premiere.
How do I know he won’t do that again? How can I trust him? How can I forget everything he did?
You think about the night you found him with Countess, think about the moments before at the premiere, when she made you believe that you were the ugly little girl who watched Ben prance around your birthday party with Missy Callahan. Your mind stutters on her name, remembering the last time you heard it in conversation on the night that you wished would never end.
"Don't be jealous of Missy Callahan. She's nothing compared to you. Never has been, never will be."
You hear Ben whisper it to you while your song played and remember that it made you feel like you were floating, made you feel understood and seen for the first time in your life. The memory of the night you spent together rises to the surface and you allow yourself to remember, remember how it felt to finally have him completely, how much it meant to you for him to be there with you, and how he made you feel special and loved.
Your jaw clenches as the image of him with Countess sours the memory of the perfect night you had together, as the memory of the words he shouted at you rip through the happy glow you had the morning after your birthday when you told him everything you'd always wanted to.
And then the memory of what he said to you a few hours ago rises.
"We made love. I understood that when I woke up the next morning and I was happy to be there with you. I knew that I loved you and I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up instead. I fucked Countess because I was scared of what loving you meant. But I'm ready now, I'm not scared anymore. I love you!"
Damn it why does it have to be like this. You clench your teeth together in anger and frustration. Why did he have to do this? Why did I have to love him? Why couldn't he have just stayed gone? Why did he have to come here-
"No. I love you and I'm not leaving!"
The words reverberate around in your skull, shaking through your body like an avalanche, shaking the foundation that you built to push him away. Because you didn't want to. You didn't want him to leave. You didn't want him to leave ever again. But you weren't sure if you could survive again if he did that again. If you opened your heart to him only to have him crush it under his heel all over again.
It was so long ago. 40 years. 40 years that he said he spent regretting what he said that night. We both said things that night.
Sometimes you wondered if Ben was as broken as you were after the fight. You think about how he looked when you went into your room and think about what he said.
Maybe he was.
Apart of you didn’t want to forgive him and didn’t believe that he really understood what he did to you. The other part wanted to leave your apartment and find him, ask him to stay, forgive him and let him back in to your heart.
More frustrated tears slip down your cheeks as you look for a pair of your soft sweatpants. When you walk out of your closet you think about going back to bed again, but you knew that sleep wouldn't come.
Maybe I should call Rosie. She'd be proud of me for not forgiving him, but probably would be mad that he came here. And I should probably tell her that I didn't have to go to Russia.
That thought gives you the strength to leave your bedroom, bare feet padding down the cool floors of the hallway back to your living room. The lights are all off, save from one single lamp on the coffee table next to the plush leather couch, the same one that you'd thrown Ben over when he grabbed your arm.
But when you cross from the hallway into the living room, you realize that you aren't alone.
Ben is sitting on the couch, leaning forward on his forearms, a blunt perched in his right hand where his arm rests against his knee, looking down at his feet. He looks up at you when you walk in, eyes piercing in the warm light of the lamp, familiar in a way that almost makes you start crying all over again.
"What are you still doing here? I thought I told you-" You begin to say, voice hoarse from crying, trying to summon up enough anger to push him away, but then your eyes shift to your kitchen counter.
A pretty glass vase of fresh cut lavender sits on the counter, the sharp clean smell floats through the air soothing the anger and frustration that you drew on to speak.
Despite your age and the way most considered them to be classic, you thought that over the years roses had become generic. But you loved lavender. It reminded you of the country home your family lived at over the summers when your mother declared that the smog in the city was too much and you all needed a holiday. She always seemed softer in the countryside, all the sharp edges of the city melting away. She didn’t snipe at your figure or your paint stained hands, if anything she gave you more freedom. You spent your summers outside in the garden staring up at the clouds missing Ben, painting and sketching, while the smell of the flowers enveloped your senses. You used to send letters to him and some sketches of flowers or small painted doodles after pressing fresh lavender into the envelopes so they would smell like it when they got to him. You wanted him to think of you whenever he smelled lavender.
He remembered how much I loved lavender?
Your eyes shift to the cigar box that lays open next to it, focusing on the slips of paper that seem to spill out over your countertop.
Are those-
You reach into the box and pull out the yellowed pages of letters delicately, eyes drifting across the paper, recognizing your handwriting, remembering the painstaking moments you spent writing them to Ben, hoping that he got them, and hoping that he missed you as much as you missed him. Underneath the ones from the summers are the ones that you sent him when he was at boarding school and then finally the faded pencil sketches and faded watercolor paintings you sent him. Each piece is folded and refolded as if someone continued to look at them over and over again.
Your fingers drift over a small doodle that you did of Ben and you sitting on a bench in Philadelphia, the one that captured you laughing at something Ben said.
It was so much easier then.
“You kept them?” You breathe while looking down at the pages.
Ben stands from the couch, putting out the blunt in one of the decorative glass ashtrays on your coffee table, watching you with the same expression in his eyes that he had when you were there earlier, when you told him to leave and not come back.
"Ben-" Tears begin to fall all over again as you meet his gaze.
"I hated those summers when you were gone. I used to sleep in your room and read the letters." He whispers. "It made me realize how much I needed you in my life. I never needed anyone before." His jaw clenches together as if the thought makes him angry.
“You asked me once why I didn’t stay at those schools. It’s because when I was at all those shitty boarding schools the only thing I could think about was getting back to you, coming back home.”
The word rings in the air between you and you suddenly understand what he is saying, remember what he said the day you were together at your first baseball game and you asked him why he didn't like staying at the boarding schools.
"I don't like being there. It's not home." He had said it so casually, but you remember being confused at his reply, but now you know.
He was saying that home was with you and it made your heart feel like it was ripping itself in half because you were still so angry with him but you didn’t want to be. Not when he was saying the very thing you’d known from the beginning. That being with him was home.
“Ben-“ You say, trying to strengthen your resolve, trying to summon the anger you’ve kept close to your heart for forty years.
"Every time I came to see you, tapped on your window I thought you would push me away, turn your back on me and you never did. And when all this supe shit happened I needed you with me too, that's why I asked you to come with me. Those years before and when we were on Payback, you put up with all my shit. Even when I did horrible things to other people, you stood by me. You know more about me than anyone else, have known me for longer than anyone else-" He takes a cautionary step forward.
Tears continue to fall from your eyes, sobs shaking your shoulders, but you can't speak.
"That night with you, felt different. Even before when we were at that restaurant it was different. I didn't want to leave. It was like nothing changed, like we were in your room again just talking, before all this, when we were still in Philadelphia. The only memories that I have from Philadelphia that are worth remembering are the moments I spent with you. And when I asked if I could come back to your place I-" He sighs rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought you would say no, but you didn't. And then you told me that you had wanted me almost as much as I'd wanted you all those years, that you needed me. I always thought that it was only me that needed you."
"Ben I can't-" You voice breaks looking away from him.
Ben is close enough now that his fingers come under your chin to tilt your face up to his. “I shouldn’t have said what I said or did what I did. I didn’t want to need anyone. I thought that I had to push you away because loving you meant I was weak. But it’s not true. Loving you is the only good thing that I’ve ever done and loving you is the only thing that makes me strong.”
You close your eyes to avoid his gaze, you wanted to believe him, but you weren’t sure that you could.
"I've fucked a lot of women in my life y/n, I won't apologize for that. But I've only made love to one." His thumb brushes away another tear that falls from your eyes. "And when you told me that you wanted me to be your first, it did something to me. I wanted to be everything you needed. I didn't want just one night with you. I wanted all of them. When I woke up the next morning with you in my arms, I didn't want it to end. All those nights when I showed up at your apartment, I didn’t want to go home. I just wanted to stay with you because it was home. Even when we were kids, being with you in your room it was the only place that I felt like I belonged.”
Your hand can't help but come up between the two of you, resting solidly on his chest. Apart of you wants to push him away, but you can’t.
Ben is still touching your face, holding it up to his. Your bodies are so close together that you can feel the heat of his skin through the air between you. Another tear falls and Ben's thumb brushes it away. The smell of the lavender is intoxicating, broken up only by the familiar smell of Ben's aftershave and soap.
And somehow you find your voice. It shakes, but you hold his gaze. "I hated you for a long time. What you said broke me. I was broken so many years. I still am-“
“Sweetheart-“
“No.” You inhale sharply. “I want to believe you, but I don’t think you understand what you did. I want to believe that you’ve changed but this is exactly what happened that night on my birthday. Don’t you see? How can I believe you? How do I know that you won't pretend to be everything I want, pretend that you’re the boy I fell in love with and then the next morning you’ll push me away and act like he doesn’t exist-“ Tears leave warm trails down your cheeks. "I’m not strong enough to go through that again.”
“I promise-“
“Ben you’ve promised in the past. And I-“ More tears come. “I’ve tried so hard to put it behind me. I want to believe that you’re still you but I don’t know if I can trust you again like I did.”
"Y/n." Ben looks deep into your eyes. "I didn't pretend that night. The only time I pretended not to care was in the morning and at the premiere-"
"And how do I know you won't do it again?" You sob. "When you think that it's too weak to admit that you care about me?"
"I do fucking care about you."
"You say that now."
"I love you."
"Ben I can't-"
"I said those things because I-" He sighs, shoulders tight in frustration and anger. "I thought that I needed to push you away, that I shouldn't care about anyone as much as I care about you. But I do. I fucking care about you more than I've ever cared about anyone in my life. I didn’t want to need anyone but I do. I need you. That’s why I kept showing up in your life. That’s why I spent so many nights in your bed. I couldn’t survive the night alone and I needed you with me, even after we took the damn serum.”
“But-“
“That night when you told me that asshole, Howard proposed I knew that I couldn't lose you. I didn't want you to marry that fucker. I wanted you to be with me. He didn't know you the same way I did, he didn't understand you. He didn't deserve you. And the night we danced together I called you ‘my girl’ because I wanted you to be. I wanted you to be mine. Not because I wanted to piss him off. Because I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you. You’re the one, the only one.”
You drop your gaze to his chest, sobbing quietly to yourself. Ben tilts your head up towards his one more time, to look deeply into your eyes. There's an unfamiliar vulnerability that stares back at you, the same one you saw when Ben would come to your bedroom and wait for you to ask him to stay because he thought you would push him away the way everyone else did.
"I promise that I will never do that to you again. I know it doesn't make what I did or what I said okay. But I will spend the rest of my life trying to fix it because I can't lose you. I’ve spent forty years away from you and I don’t want to spend anymore time away. I love you. And I hate that I fucking hurt you this much."
You can see the sincerity in his eyes, hear the raw emotion in his voice, but you’re still unsure.
“Please y/n I want to fix this." He says again.
“I know you do. But you can’t just show up 40 years later And expect to fix it in one night. I know it’s not your fault that you didn’t come sooner but, you hurt me-“
“I know I did-“ his eyes drop to your shoulders as the memory of how he grabbed you that night blankets his mind.
“No not like that. Ben you don’t understand. Sorry isn’t enough. And yes hearing you say all these things was nice but it’s not enough to make me forget everything that happened.”
“But-“
“No. Ben I loved you, more than I’d ever loved anyone I-“ You shake your head tears falling fast. “I lost pieces of myself to make you happy to make sure that you had someone in your life that cared for you. I stayed for so long with you because it was all I thought I could do. And every time I thought I could leave to do something for myself you would do something to pull me back in like you had a fucking radar and knew oh if I do something that she wants I’ll get her to stay with me a little longer!”
“I knew you were unhappy! I was trying to make you happy! I wanted you to stay with me-“
“By manipulating me?”
“No it wasn’t because I wanted to manipulate you I-“ He exhales in frustration. “You told me that you wanted someone to come home to, someone who loved you, a family, I wanted to give you those things! I saw how you were looking at the other couples, I knew what you wanted. That’s why I held your hand at dinner, gave you the necklace, and that’s why I kissed you-“
“But then you pushed me away. You pushed me away when I needed you the most, when I finally said what I'd been trying to say for years.” Your voice shakes. “I can’t go to bed every night with you and wake up with the dread that you’re going to push me away again and say that I mean nothing. That you’ll be cold and unfeeling and- I can’t do that to myself again.”
“I promise I won’t-“
“I don’t know if I believe you. If I can after everything."
"Please just tell me what I can do to fix it."
"I don't know!" You shout running your fingers through your hair pulling back from him. Because you wanted him to fix it. You loved every bit of the words he said, the love he confessed to you. You loved the way he was looking at you, the way he wanted to make this up to you, but your heart wouldn't let go. It couldn't let go of the things he shouted at you, couldn't let go of the image of him and Countess, couldn't forget how happy you were to tell him you loved him and then he just acted like you were nothing. The words he said that night begin to circulate, bringing you deeper into the dark pit that threatened to swallow you whole, the pit that you'd fallen into when you thought he died.
"Ben I-" Your voice catches in your throat. "I wish that I knew what you could do to fix this. I want you to. I want to forget all of it. And I want to forgive you because I still fucking love you, but I can't do it in one day. I can’t -" And despite your better judgement you crumple against his chest, tears smearing against the front of his shirt, body shaking with sobs, and trying hard to not think how it feels the same as it always has to be pressed against him.
Ben's arms come up around you to wrap you in his embrace, tucking your head under his chin as he begins to drag his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion.
The gentleness of his touch makes you cry harder against him, hold on to him so tight that you think you'll break him in half, but he doesn't complain, he just stands there with you. It reminds you of when he came to hold you in the hotel room when your brother died, when he drove for hours to be there for you. Because despite everything that had happened between you, Ben was always there with you before that night with Countess.
You don’t know how long you standing there together, but finally Ben picks you up and carries you down the dark hallway to your bedroom and deposits you on the bed.
He waits a minute on the edge, standing as if he's unsure, brow scrunched up in frustration and anger.
"I didn't mean to hurt you this fucking much. And I don’t know how to-“ His jaw tenses and he shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut like he can't look at you. “I don’t know how to- fuck- I can’t lose you.” Ben grips his hair so tightly you think he’s going to pull it out.
“Ben.” You sigh and despite everything , you stand up from the bed to hug him, allowing him to press his head into your shoulder and hug you so tight it hurts. It breaks something deeper in your chest because you can see how broken he is, how much he wants to fix this, and how much of him he was willing to let you see.
You didn't understand how he was being so open, how he was allowing himself to be like this after all the bullshit toxic masculinity he usually spouted and how he pushed away his feelings for so long. You wondered if after this he would push you away because you had seen him like this, or if he really did love you and that was why he was doing it.
“It’s okay.” You soothe, running your hands up and down his back. “It’s alright.”
But you’re not sure it is.
"If you still want me to leave I will. I can sleep on the couch.” Ben whispers. The emotion that flashes in his eyes when he says it, breaks your heart. It's vulnerable and raw, so different that the mask Ben wore as Soldier Boy. “But please don’t make me go.”
"I don't want you to go." You whisper. “Even after everything. I want you here with me, it’s just hard.”
“I’m sorry-"
“I know you are Ben.” You both stand there for a minute and you weigh your options.
You think about making him go back out on the couch, making him sleep alone, but you don’t want that. You knew that you’d spend the whole night thinking about him. And as much as a part of you wanted to push him away, you couldn't. So you do the opposite.
You take his hand and gently entwine your fingers with his. Ben stares down at them for a moment confused, before you sit on the bed, scooting back and tugging softly, but he hesitates.
“Are you sure?” He asks in a whisper, gaze raising from your hands to catch your eye.
You nod once tugging his hand again and this time he follows you down into the mattress.
He slides in next to you beneath the covers, keeping your hands entwined between the two of you so that they are locked against his chest as you face one another on the bed, heads resting on different pillows, but close enough that you can feel his warm breath every time he exhales.
Ben's eyes search yours. “I tried to call after. I picked up the phone but every time I did I couldn’t-“ He sighs. "I was such a fucking pussy. I didn't know what to say. I should have just come over-"
"I wouldn't have let you in." You breathe. "I didn't want to see you, didn't want to see anyone. Stan Edgar tried to come talk to me and I broke his nose."
"Really?" Ben smiles.
"Yeah." You try to smile back, but you can't.
Ben raises his free hand to push back your hair and tuck it behind your ear, but his eyes drop to your shoulders tracing the imaginary bruises that he left behind all those years ago. "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I didn’t mean to-“
You press your lips into a tight line. “I think that’s the only time I’ve ever been afraid of you.” You say in a whisper. You hadn’t wanted to admit it aloud, but it was true. You had been angry and heartbroken, but the fact that Ben had laid a hand on you, was prepared to hurt you had scared you. It was what solidified that the thought that boy you loved was gone.
But the look on his face breaks something inside you, pain and anguish flashing in his eyes.
"Ben-" You sigh, shifting forward closer to him, but he releases your hand and instead wraps his arm around your waist to pull you into his chest, pressing his head into your shoulder. You know that he can't say what he's thinking right now, but he doesn't have to.
“I also remember doing something to you.” You say because you don't know what else to, you’re not used to seeing him look so broken.
“I deserved it.” He mumbles into your shirt.
“You didn’t deserve what I said about your dad-“
“I did. You were right.”
“Ben you’re not like him.”
“But I am. Everything I did to you, is something he would have done.” He mutters, pulling you tighter against him. “I don’t know how to fucking fix this.”
“This is helping a little bit.” You whisper against your better judgement, while you inhale his shampoo and lean further into his chest. It was weird to be here with him after all these years, after all the years you spent hating him. You didn't want to forgive him, you wanted to be angry but at the same time you wanted to believe him, you wanted to believe that the boy you fell in love with was still there.
And laying here with him holding you the way you always wanted him to, made you remember that boy.
“Yeah?” He breathes, raising his head from your shoulder.
“Mhmm.”
You lay there for a minute in his embrace and it's like he never left. It's the same as when you were kids and you laid in bed together. And finally you say. "As angry as I am, I still love you. You matter too much to me for me to let you go. I think that's why it hurts so much, because you're all I had Ben and I-"
"That's why I can't lose you. You're all I have and that’s enough. You are enough. You always have been and always will be.” Ben states his eyes are wide with his confession, the pain of what he did to you flashes through them. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I never could think of a way to say it.”
More tears spring from your eyes and you wonder when you’ll stop crying.
Ben leans his forehead against yours. His expression softens as he looks into your eyes, his touch gentle against your cheek. “But if you’ll let me, I’d like to show you how much I love you and how sorry I am.” The look in his eyes is softer than you’ve ever seen it, reminding you of how he looked on those early mornings still half asleep and reminding you of how he looked the morning after your birthday before he ran.
You know he means well, and you understand what he’s asking, why he’s asking. He’s trying to make it up to you the only way he knows how, but you can’t do it. It's too soon. Too much after everything that happened and too much considering you're still trying to come to terms with the fact that he's here and he's finally saying everything you ever wanted him to. Not to mention that you haven't completely forgiven him.
“Ben?"
“Yeah?”
“Can you just hold me tonight?” You breathe. You felt disgusting. You had snot and tears all over your face and your cheeks were bright red and splotchy from crying. “I’m not ready for that. Not after everything. I don't think I can-”
You watch disappointment flicker in his eyes but he recovers with a soft smile. "It's okay. We can take this slow, whatever you need."
Ben drops the hand that was against your cheek and wraps his arm around your waist to pull you into his chest. You snuggle into his arms breathing in the familiar smell before bringing your arms up to wrap around the back of his neck in a tight hug.
“Did they hurt you?” You ask before you can stop yourself.
Ben’s arms tighten around you and you know that he must be remembering the past 40 years.
“What they did doesn’t matter.”
“I’m so sorry I didn’t come for you." You pull back to look into his eyes. "The others told me you were dead. I wouldn’t have left you there if I knew-“
“I know.” Ben leans his forehead against yours. “I would have come for you too.”
“I know.”
“It means a lot to me that you were still willing to come get me after everything I fucking put you through.”
“That’s what love is.”
“No.” Ben whispers. “That’s you.”
“Ben-“
“I don’t deserve you. You’ve stood by me, put up with all my shit all these years and you never turned your back on me. What I did to you is unforgivable and yet you want me here with you-“
“Ben.” You sigh. “I know that I shouldn’t want you here and a part of me wants to push you away. I should make you leave, but I can’t. You’re my best friend and I love you. And that means that even though you’re the one who hurt me, you’re the only person that I want here, comforting me. As fucked up as that is, I don’t care. What you did was horrible, but I promise that I’m going to try my best to forgive you. It might take a long time, but I want to trust you again, because I love you and I never stopped.”
He frowns despite what you confessed. “You don’t regret-“
“I said a lot of things that night. And you did too." You push his hair back over his forehead. "And for the record, I don't think your father would care about making it up to someone else. We both know that he didn't care about anyone but himself. And even after everything that happened you're proving that you aren't him, right now, by being here with me."
He presses his lips together in a tight line. "Okay."
It’s quiet for a few moments as both of you stare at one another in the dim light of your bedroom.
“Have you really loved me since we were 8?” Ben whispers.
“Yeah. Since the study.” You're not sure if you should be embarrassed or not.
He smiles. “I was 10. It was the night of my mom's funeral. My dad was giving me some shit about something, but I couldn't stop thinking about you so I climbed up the tree outside your window. I wasn't going to ask you to come in, I was just going to sit on the ledge and watch you draw. I like watching you draw, it's like you're in your own little world and you forget about everything else. You always seem so happy." Ben smiles wider. "I like seeing you happy."
You remembered that night. You had a weird feeling that someone was watching you and when you looked out your window you had seen Ben sitting there. You had made a joke about him stalking you, but then invited him in. It was the first night that he had ever spent in your bed.
"And then when we woke up the next morning, you were laying there snoring-" Ben snorts.
"I do not snore." You smile with a sniffle
"You do. It's cute." Ben's smile turns softer. "And I didn't want to wake you up, because it meant that we'd have to move and I didn't want to ever move. Because moving meant that I would have to go back to my dad and I didn't want that. I just wanted to stay there with you."
More tears pour from your eyes with his confession because again you can’t see Soldier Boy, you just see Ben, but you know it’ll take a long time until you’re completely healed.
“I didn’t want to say anything. I thought that if I did you would push me away and I didn’t have anyone else that mattered in my life. And you deserved better than me. I was always getting kicked out of boarding schools I was a fuck up. A disappointment.” Ben sighs, brushing away your tears again. “Even after we took the serum I was. You deserved someone who was-“
“I didn’t think you were a fuck up, Ben. I’ve never thought that. I hate what your father said to you, what he did to you. I hate that he made you feel like you didn’t matter.” You stroke your fingertips through his hair and Ben sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. “You are worth so much more than what he told you. You mean so much to me, more than anyone else ever. That’s why I never told you. I didn’t want to lose you. You’re everything to me.”
“You’re not going to lose me. I promise I’m never going to leave you again. I missed you so fucking much sweetheart.”
“I missed you too.” You continue to move your fingers through his hair. In the past you had avoided the urge to do so, but now you wanted to comfort him. Because as much as you wanted to forget the last forty years, you wondered what they had been like for him. You wanted him to tell you what they did to him.
“Feels nice.” He murmurs, arms tightening around your waist.
“Your hair’s a lot longer.” You can’t help but smile at his reaction.
“Didn’t have time to cut it.”
“So is your beard-“
“If you don’t like it I can shave it off-“
“No don’t.” You say it quickly and Ben opens one eye to smirk at you.
“Guess you like it.”
“Maybe.”
“Then I’ll keep it just for you Sweetheart.” He leans further into you. “You know I think you look pretty good too.”
You snort. “You don’t have to butter me up just because you feel bad. I’m wearing sweatpants, I haven't brushed my hair, and my face is all puffy-“
“You look beautiful.”
“Well-“
“Stop. You do.”
“Ben-“
This time Ben raises his hand to cup your chin. “Will you just let me compliment my girl?”
The nickname is familiar. You remember the last time he called you that, when you were dancing and he finally kissed you for the first time. “Do you really mean it this time?”
“I always meant it. You are mine and nothing else matters.” The look in his eyes is determined, as if he wants you to understand how much you mean to him.
“Does that mean that you're mine too?" Your voice is almost a whisper, frightened of his answer. Although he had apologized and said that he wanted to make it up to you, you were still afraid. Afraid that Ben couldn't do this.
"Y/n." Ben's expression is pained. "I promise I will never do that again. I will never hurt you like that ever. Believe me when I say that."
"I'm trying to."
“What can I do to fix it?” He asks again.
“I don’t know.”
And you don't. Because you understood that Ben was trying his hardest to make up for what happened, and yes you loved that he was like this now, but you were afraid, afraid that the next day you'd wake up and he'd be gone and Soldier Boy would be back.
Ben sighs. "I am yours and I don’t want to be anywhere else." His eyes are focused on you, determined, but filled with a softness that turns the beautiful emerald into a clover that reminds you of the soft grass at the park the day you painted him.
You weren’t used to him looking at you like that, like you were the only person in the world. It had only happened one other time, the morning after your birthday when you were more happy than you'd ever been in your entire life.
“Okay.” You whisper back because you don’t know what else to say. “Ben?”
“Mhmm?”
“What did they do to you?”
Ben’s body tenses. “It doesn’t matter now.”
"Please tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because you were there for forty years and I-“
“It doesn’t fucking matter. Just drop it.” Ben snaps, eyes blazing green.
You wait for a beat, watching the blaze of his eyes turn down to a simmer. “It’s okay to admit that the last forty years haven’t been easy. I won’t judge you for that or think less of you Ben. And if we’re going to do this, be in a relationship, you’re going to need to share things with me. It can’t be one sided-“
“It’s not going to be one sided, I just don’t want to talk about that.”
“Okay.” You sigh, settling back down next to him. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed. You knew that Ben kept his cards close to his chest, but you wanted him to be open with you about things like that.
The silence grows between you filled with unspoken things.
“They wanted to see if I could die, if they could make me fucking normal again.” Ben mutters into the top of your head. And then he tells you, tells you what happened that day in Nicaragua, tells you about the testing, about the nuclear bomb they put into his chest, about every single thing they did to him over the past forty years. With each revelation of the last forty years your arms tighten around his body in a hug, holding him to you while his words make anger surge in your chest like an uncontrollable fire.
How could they do that to him? How could they hurt him like that? And Payback? They were our teammates. How could they turn their back on Ben like that? Give him up so easily and not for any kind of money?
You think about what Countess confessed to you, when she said that she purposely drove you two apart.
They were right to. If they had tried any of that with me there, I would have ripped them all apart if they tried to take Ben away.
Your fingers fall into Ben’s hair, gently dragging back and forth at the base of his skull while he continues, trying to bring him some comfort.
“Ben I’m so sorry.” You say when he finishes.
“It’s okay-“
“It’s not. Nothing they did to you is okay.”
“I deserved it.”
His words make an ice cold chill travel down your spine. It was the second time that he had said something like that tonight.
“Ben.”
You lean back from him to look him in the eye, but he won’t meet your gaze. Your hands cup his cheeks, his scruff prickling against your palms as you bring his attention to you. He looks lost and it scares you. Ben never did that. He was always together, it was you that usually had that haunting look in your eyes, but you could see what they did to him reflected in the familiar green. He looked worn.
“You didn’t deserve what they did to you. No one deserves that. And yeah maybe you said some shit you shouldn’t have and maybe you did something bad, but I never want to hear you say that again. Do you understand me? Never say that again. You didn’t deserve that. And I promise you that you’re never going back. I will not let them take you again.”
Ben nods once and your hands slip from his cheeks to go around his neck once more to pull him into a tight hug.
“I didn’t mean to hurt those people.” He mutters into the top of your head remembering what happened in Mid-town.
You had heard about it through Rosemary, who had several patients who had been hurt in the explosion, not to mention every news station seemed to have it on 24/7.
“I know. It’s okay. You just lost control. It happens to all of us.” You think about killing Countess. “It doesn’t make you a bad guy.”
“Hmm.”
It was weird for Ben to allow this, to allow you to hold him, but somewhere deep down you wondered if he always wanted you to, but he just never said and didn’t want to admit it out loud.
Weirder still was that he was holding you to him too, curling his arms around you and pulling you into his chest like you belonged there. And despite everything that happened, despite how angry you wanted to be, being here with him felt like you were coming home.
“You should sleep.” He whispers after a little while, as his hand trails down your spine, moving up and down in a soothing motion.
“Will you be here when I wake up?”
“If you want me to be.”
“I wasn’t lying when I said I always want you here.” You breathe into his skin. “I lied when I said I never wanted to see you again.”
“Then I will be.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head that makes you cuddle further into him, tightening your arms were they wrap around his neck to pull him into you.
And you hope that one day it won't hurt, that one day you won't hear the words he yelled at you, and that one day you can believe and trust him again like you did.
******************************************************
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*door slams open* Mr. Guthrie isn't here. He's taken sanctuary on Mr. Underhill's estate. Do you know what you've done? What madness possessed you to write that letter? I tried to tell you—Billy found it. If he'd have shown anyone before I discovered him, but for dumb luck, I'd be dead. I'm sorry. You know I would never intentionally put you in any kind of danger. What was your intent? What was it? To destroy everything we've tried to build here for the past ten years? Or was it just to embarrass me? To show you a way out of all of this. To free you. A way out? Have you no memory of how we got in? Of what they took from us? What does it matter now? What does it matter? What does it matter what happened then if we have no life now? Because there is no life here. There is no joy here. There is no love here. There is—WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?—NO LOVE HERE! What do you think I'm out there fighting for if not to make those things possible here? You'll fight a war so we can make a life? You don't get one without the other, my sweet. No. You're wrong. I sent that letter to show you that you're wrong. There is a life in Boston. There is joy there. And music. And peace. The door is open. I've opened it for you. And it requires no war and no blood and no sacrifice. It requires an intolerable sacrifice. To accept a pardon? To apologize. Apologize? Who will you be apologizing to? TO ENGLAND! They took everything from us. And then they call me a monster. The moment I sign that pardon, the moment I ask for one, I proclaim to the world that they were right. This ends when I grant them my forgiveness, not the other way around. This path you're on, it doesn't lead where you think it does. If he were here, he'd agree with me! *door slams closed*
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Hey.
Totally understand if you don’t want to make a part two, but something that’s been living rent free in my head since I read the Lion’el painting fic you wrote is what would happen if his lover potentially retuned somehow? Maybe she’d been on a ship that experienced warp shenanigans so it’s only been a few years since she disappeared from her pov, how he’d react to her return and how she’d handle the RADICAL changes to the imperium.
Preferred sfw but I don’t really mind
Totally fine if you don’t want to do a part two but I did want to express how much I loved the fic and make the request now that they’re open.
PS I love all your stuff so much
- 🍀
[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3 ]
Sequel to this request. You will probably need to read that to understand most of what happens here.
Author's note: Hey friend! Here's a little continuation of that fic, I hope you enjoy it <3
Relationships: Lion'el Jonson/Fem!Reader
Warnings: None really
Lion'el is disturbed from his what can only be described as meditation with the harsh slamming of ceramite boots on flooring, up until the door behind him is thrown open. LIon'el doesn't move as they force their way into the small room, his hands still on his thighs.
"Father!" They even forgo the proper respects, though he ignores it. He doesn't however, ignore their next words.
"She is awake!"
Lion'el's eyes snap open, and he's up to his feet in moments, pushing past his men with little regard. He knows they're following, though he couldn't care less if they did.
He only cares about one thing now.
Lion'el had been hesitant to tell any of his these Dark Angels about you, since waking. They had never even known he had a wife, only that singular relic had even clued them into the fact that he had anyone, besides his legion. The entire time they'd never known that mysterious woman had been beneath their feet; Much like himself, in a way.
It seemed whatever had cast him into an endless slumber had did to you much the same, not many years later. You'd commanded his men briefly in his stead, but one day, you fell the same as him. He'd never known you were so close until recently. He'd thought you dead and gone since he'd awoken.
He hasn't seen you awake since those days just after the Heresy, and only recently when you were still asleep; Now here you are, groggy and eyes wet, trying to pull your arm away from a concerned medicae. You stop however, once you catch sight of him.
"Lion?"
Your voice is hoarse, like a gravely whisper, you look at him like you have trouble thinking he's real. Perhaps he looks too different for you to instantly recognize him. He knows his beard is rougher, face is harsher. But his armor is almost the exact same.
He walks closer. Past his sons who have maintained a cautious barrier; They know little about you. He pushes through them despite complaints and reaches your side, where your legs dangle off the edge of a stone slab his sons had put you on ten thousand years ago.
His hands reach to cup your face, and your own grasp his armor, desperately trying to pull him into a hug. He allows it, feeling your tears on the skin of his neck.
He can see the look of confusion in his geneson's eyes. How they all look at him displaying such weakness. He knows how far gone down the path they've gone, how his words have been twisted and warped beyond even what he thought was reasonable.
You pull away from his neck but he still feels your small hands against the nape of his neck, weaving into his hair.
"Lion, what's happened? The last I remember, Horus and Lorgar had-" He quiets you quickly.
"I will explain everything to you." He turns to the medicae who is still hovering close by, but hasn't been able to continue his duty since being interrupted.
"How is she," Lion'el speaks bluntly. It takes the man a moment to regain movement of his tongue.
"She appears normal on every scan, considering all that has happened."
With that reassurance Lion'el goes to pick you up, carrying you as close to bridal style as he can given your difference in size. When he turns to take you away however, Azrael comes into view with his squad shortly behind him.
"Father!"
Lion'el had confessed to your existance once he'd visited you and noticed you shift in your sleep. He'd sent guards to watch you as you- at the time he had thought hopefully- began to wake, and Azrael had to then be let in on the secret that had been lost for ten thousand years. Azrael as he expected acted with suspicion, though had held back his thoughts at the time. Now he seems to decide not to.
He doesn't need to say a single word, the way the astartes' hand flinches tells Lion'el everything he needs to know about what him and his squad are thinking.
Lion'el looks towards his geneson with nothing but coldness.
"If your hand moves closer to the pommel of your chainsword I will not hesitate to kill you where you stand."
Azrael gawks at him like he's offended.
"Father, we should be cautious, you don't know what kind of warp trickery has-" Lion'el stands straighter, still holding you in your arms. You're drowsy, but still well aware of the standoff that is happening as you grasp his armor for stability.
"She is my wife. She is the legion mother of Dark Angels from before and after the Heresy, and she commanded your ancestors when I fell. I do not need you to tell me what I see."
Lion'el walks forward and his men give way to him, allowing their genefather to pass. He can feel Azrael's displeasure, but he doesn't care.
He walks away from them all, and they wisely choose not to follow.
"Lion, How long have I been asleep? All of your men, you..." You look around the halls as he walks. "Everything look so different."
Lion'el is silent for a moment, until he returns to his quarters and gently sits you down on his own bed. One of his gauntlets comes to rest on the nook between your shoulder and neck, awkward as he always was but reassuring.
"The same illness that took me, it took you as well." You look exactly how he remembers you, it's like not a day has passed. Since waking he's blocked out those detailed memories of you; The feeling of your skin and gentle look in your eyes. They hurt to remember, but now that he has them back he doesn't know if he could do that again.
"You've been asleep for ten thousand years. Same as I."
Your face is frozen in a confused shock, your breath quickens, though at some point you simply accept it. Or perhaps stow the feelings away to eventually explode when your brain isn’t so and confused.
Your hand pulls to try and bring him closer, and he puts a gauntlet in your lap for you to grip as a compromise. Your small hands wrap around his fingers, squeezing to reassure yourself as you talk.
"I missed you. Being with your legion alone, I don't know how to describe how it felt." You weren't meant to do such a thing, lead an army, and Lion'el laments having to put it on you. He's sure you did well in your time, what short amount of it there was.
"Are you tired?" He asks, and you uncharacteristically let out a laugh.
"Not to be rude, but I think I've had quite enough of that for a few lifetimes, apparently." Lion'el doesn't smile, but his face does soften.
Finally alone, he also leans in to take a gentle kiss from you, your soft lips on his own as his beard scratches your skin. It feels just the same as he remembered.
"Then come with me. I'll show you what else you have missed."
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You Broke Me First
Jason Todd x Reader
Warnings: ALL ANGST, Fighting, Alcohol Mentioned, Anxiety, Bar Fight, Mention of Sex, Cheating, Break Up, Adult Language, Jason Being Arrested, Mention of Weapons, Mention of Jason’s Dark Past, and Possible Grammar Errors. (Sorry if I forgot any!!!)
Summary: Y/N and Jason had been together for two years and everything was going good till Jason does the unthinkable that broke Y/N’s heart.
Inspired Song: You Broke Me First By Tate McRae
Word Count: 1,737
Author’s Note: Sorry that this was short. When I was writing this I thought it was going to be longer but I guess not. Also I definitely suggest you listen to the song before reading this since the plot his based off the song!
Y/N and Jason were that couple that everyone thought was going to last. But it didn’t due to one stupid and drunken night. Y/N is Barbara’s roommate and met Jason through Barbara since they have known each other for years.
At first Y/N just thought that Barbara knew Jason through her boyfriend Dick since Jason is his little brother but that changed when Y/N found out that Barbara is Gotham City’s Batgirl. After Jason and Dick gave Barbara permission to tell Y/N about them being Red Hood and Nightwing, Barbara told Y/N everything. She told her how Dick was the first Robin and then Jason became Robin after Dick became Nightwing. Barbara told her how she got shot by the Joker and was in a wheel chair for years till she was finally able to get surgery that would allow her to be able to walk again. Jason was a little nervous about Barbara telling Y/N about his history with the Joker but Y/N was fine with it. She didn’t view him as a dead man walking.
She still saw him as her loving and protective boyfriend. Well that was till Jason shattered her heart.
A big reason why everyone thought Y/N was the one for Jason was because they had been together for two years which is the longest and first real relationship that Jason had ever been in.
Everything went well till Jason did the worst thing her could’ve ever done.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Y/N was driving to Jason’s apartment on a Saturday morning after an anxious Friday night. Y/N and Jason were at her apartment when they got in a big and bad fight that made Jason storm out of the apartment. That had been the first fight between them. It all happened so fast that Y/N doesn’t even remember what the fight was even about. She kept trying to call him but no answer so she decided to just go to bed and talk to him the next day.
Y/N found a parking spot by Jason’s apartment building so she parked her car and turned the vehicle off. She grabbed her keys and put them in her coat pocket. After opening the driver seat door she pressed the button on the door to lock the car and got out. She shut the door and made her way inside the building. Y/N walked up the steps to the third floor.
When she got to Jason’s door she could feel her heart racing so she took a deep and calming breath and knocked on the door. Every second that passed she could feel her nerves pacing. As almost two minutes passed Jason hadn’t answered the door. She could’ve sworn that she saw his motorcycle parked outside. Before Y/N could knock on the door again the door opened to reveal not Jason but a girl with short bleach blonde hair.
Y/N just froze in her spot. She looked the girl up and down. The outfit the unknown girl was wearing was pretty revealing. She had on a tight crop top that showed her cleavage and her belly with an even tighter mini skirt that showed off her long legs. Her hair was a little messy. It looked liked she had just woken up.
“Y/N.” She heard Jason say appearing behind the unknown girl. Jason moved the girl to the side and took Y/N’s hand pulling her inside his apartment. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” Jason told her letting go of her hand. He escorted the unknown girl out of his apartment and out the building. As Y/N waited for him she just stayed standing as so many thoughts ran through her head. When that girl opened the door she felt like someone just stabbed her in her heart.
When Jason walked back into the apartment he saw the hurt look in Y/N’s eyes. “Well, now I know why you didn’t answer your phone.” Y/N said in a hurtful tone. Jason let out a sigh as he closed his door. Before Jason could say anything Y/N spoke again. “Who is she?” Y/N asked him. “What?” Jason asked which immediately set her off. “Did I fucking stutter?” Y/N hissed. “Who the fuck is she?” Y/N asked again in a snappy tone. The hurt she was feeling quickly melted away and turned into anger. “She’s a girl I met at the bar I went to last night.” Jason told her. “But Y/N I was completely shit faced.” Jason added which made Y/N let out a scoff. “I don’t give a shit what you were! You had sex with another woman!” Y/N told him as hot tears started to fill her eyes. “I know it was fucking stupid but I promise it didn’t mean anything.” Jason told her as he watched the girl he loves heart break right in front of him.
He went to go touch her but she backed away from him. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Y/N hissed at him. “Y/N, please.” Jason pleaded as tear started to flood his blue eyes. Y/N shook her head as she used the back of her hand to wipe away some of her tears.
“We’re fucking done.” Y/N snapped and walked passed him and out of the apartment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
it’s been a couple weeks since Y/N broke up with Jason. He’s been trying to get in touch with her but she’s been ignoring him. She got a call in early morning hours from an unknown number so she answered it and it was Jason.
He needed her to use his money from his bank account to bail him out of jail. He had to call her since she’s the only one that knows his bank information. After he told her how much the bond was she hung up. Y/N got out of her bed and quietly left the apartment so she didn’t wake Barbara up.
Y/N went to a twenty four hour ATM and then went to the jail to bail Jason out. As Y/N drove him back to his apartment he told her what had happened that got him arrested. He got into a bar fight and the reason why he was in jail for hours was because they wanted him to sober up since when they arrested him he was wasted. Y/N just nodded her head. Right after she dropped him off at his apartment she drove back to her apartment and went right back to sleep.
Y/N woke up a little after eleven AM. When she walked into the living room she saw Barbara sitting on the couch watching the TV. “Hey sleepy head.” Barbara said as Y/N sat down on the couch next to her. Barbara could sense something was wrong. “What’s wrong?” Barbara asked her with concern in her voice. “I had to bail Jason out of jail at two in the morning.” Y/N told her with a tired sigh. “That’s not surprising.” Barbara said with a sigh as well. “Dick has been telling me that he’s been going through hell because of the break up.” Barbara added. “He did look so broken.” Y/N said as she stared out at the television. “And that’s not your fault.” Barbara told her which made her look away from the tv and at her.
“Jason did that to himself. He’s the one that is making him go through all this pain.” Barbara told her. “Yes, when Jason was with he was the happiest he’s ever been but he’s the one that fucked it up. You didn’t do it, he did it.” Barbara told her in a stern tone. She doesn’t want Y/N to feel guilty for what Jason is going through.
“He broke you first.” Barbara added. Y/N gave her a nod. She knew that everything Barbara had just told her was one hundred percent true.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was now night time and Y/N was at the apartment by herself since Barbara is out doing her patrol as Batgirl. Y/N was laying on the couch watching a movie on the TV. It was a little after eight o’ clock and Y/N was still exhausted. But before she could decide to head into bed their was a knock on the door. She got up and walked over to the door. When she opened the door she saw Jason standing there.
“Hey.” Jason said in a soft tone. “What are you doing here?” Y/N asked him in a stern tone. “I wanted to thank you for bailing me out.” Jason told her. “And?” Y/N asked as she folded her arms over her chest knowing that their was more. “I also wanted to talk to you.” Jason told her which made her roll her eyes. “There is nothing to fucking talk about.” Y/N told him still using a stern tone.
She went to slam the door in his face but Jason stopped the door from closing and walked into the apartment. “Y/N, I’ve been a fucking wreck without you.” Jason told her. “And that’s not my problem!” Y/N told him turning back around to face him since after she went to close the door she started to walk back over to the couch.
“Jason, I still love you but I can’t forgive you for what you did.” Y/N told him. “And like I told you it’s the worst fucking thing I have ever done.” Jason said looking at her with a pleading look in his blue eyes. “Trust me I know that but you saying that isn’t going to fix it. It isn’t going to erase it.” Y/N told him with frustration in her voice.
“Maybe one day we can be friends but that’s it. You broke my trust and I just can’t give you another chance. I can’t force myself to do that.” Y/N told him. She was trying her best not to cry but she knew she was failing since she could feel the tears forming in her eyes. Jason was already shedding tears.
“You broke me first.” Y/N told him remembering what Barbara told her this morning. Jason gave her a nod knowing that she was right. “Yeah, I did.” Jason said. He turned around and walked out of the apartment.
He knew at that moment it was really over. There was nothing else he can say. Y/N took a deep breath to clam herself down. She wiped away her tears and walked over the door and shut it.
#jason Todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd angst#all angst#THIS IS ALL ANGST#READ AT YOUR OWN RISK#you broke me first#jason todd imagine#Jason Todd one shot#Jason Todd x you#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x fem!reader#Jason Todd x female!reader#dc comics#dc comics imagine#dc comics one shot#dc x reader#dc x fem!reader#dc x you#batfamily#batfam#red hood#red hood x reader#red hood x you#red hood x y/n#red hood angst#red hood x fem!reader#red hood x female!reader#Batfamily x you#batfamily x reader
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I get that tbh so let me give you this:
Drunk and clingy Chuuya who won't let anyone touch him besides his beloved <3
oh drunk clingy chuuya my roman empire ( while writing this I realised gradually that i was not at all prepared to write this evening. oops. ) (( it's fine the post won't get far I think ))
it's just a port mafia party, some celebratory banquet for completing a rather large tradeoff mission. of course chuuya is the one that cracks open the fanciest bottle. the one with a few too many digits and zeros for any normal person to glance twice at. but he's always been an extravagant guy, and the more expensive it tastes the better quality it is. that's what he thinks, anyway.
he doesn't particularly bother trying to limit the glasses he intakes, why should he? koyo was staying sober, so was hirotsu, enough people that he'd be perfectly fine if anything severe happened. might as well enjoy the night as it lasts.
It's when his vision starts to blur that the first problem arises. his movements are more staggered as he struggles to keep his balance - and he lets out an almost embarassingly high pitched whine of frustration to avoid when koyo reaches out a hand to try and help stabilise him.
chuuyas knees hit the ground, a few heads turn, but its nothing too interesting. the executive had been known for not bring able to handle his alcohol too well, after all. It's when koyo leans down to help him up, and her hand is slapped away - that more people have their eyes on the scene before them.
after all, nobody who'd responded to her with violence was treated kindly in the past.
but she knows different. chuuya wouldn't do that to her - the 15 year old she spent nights trying to teach basic table manners wouldn't hit her with aggression in mind. so it had to be something else.
she let's out a gentle sigh as she calls your cell. if anyone had noticed how chuuya has a painful softspot for you, it was her. if anyone could help with a situation like this, it'd be you.
the conversation doesn't last long. a simple polite request for you to come pick him up, to see if he'll let you pick him up. and when you arrive, he obviously sees you before you spot him, a slurred whiny call of your name cutting through the crowd. one that'd have a sober chuuya breaking brick walls with his skull to forget about it.
you move over to him, listening to his unintelligible blabbers as he clings to your leg. the gentle sobs as he nuzzles into the fabric of the trousers you'd lazily thrown on. the whimpers of "I missed you s'much.." "where were you?.." "my pretty thing.."
it takes a moment to get him onto his feet again, feeling his full weight lean into you as you do so. you call a thanks to koyo, hearing her gentle giggle as you lug your boyfriend out of the party. a response of "good luck with him!" rings past the music on the speakers.
getting him home was an effort. dragging him into bed with his entire damn weight on you should've got you an olympics medal. but seeing his hazy eyes search for you, a blubber of your name as he spots you. and those gloved hands reaching like you're the only thing he'll ever need in life. it's hard to stay mad.
you settle beside him in bed, letting him wrap around you like a koala. chosing to not comment on the smell of his breath as he whispers love to you for the simplest things. he's always been sweet to you like that.
you feel the way his hands still as he drifts to sleep. from idly fiddling with your clothes to completely stone on your side. listening to the way his breathing relaxes. he felt so safe around you. it'd always been you. that's how he liked it.
#🌱 idle#🌱 flowerbed ; chaos#bsd chuuya#chuuya x reader fluff#nakahara chuuya x reader#chuuya x reader#chuuya x you#chuuya x y/n#chuuya imagine#chuuya imagines#chuuya fluff#nakahara chuuya x you#chuuya nakahara x reader#chuuya nakahara#nakahara chūya#does this even make sense#save me#🌱 mumbles#🌱 chuuya stuff
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do you have a list of good CoD fanfics, or favorite writers in general?? <3
Presented in no particular order, here are some of my personal faves / fics I really enjoyed, and my own summaries for them. Hopefully you enjoy, thanks for the ask, anon!!!
I didn't tag all the authors because I'm not sure if they all have tumblrs, but also I'm shy tagging people ahjdfhkaheje. If any authors here are mentioned tho and you have a tumblr, feel free to lmk and I can update this post to include your tag!!:)
Anything rated mature I colour coded the name in red, and anything explicit green. Not all the mature fics feature smut, but yeah! I didn't want to link anything tooooo explicit here, but if anyone wants any, I can definitely rb this post to add a few more 😅
Also, just beware the tags on any of these fics because some feature kind of heavy subject matter. 👍
COF FIC REC LIST:
A Very MacTavish Christmas - @m3rrywe4ther
Prob my fav fic in the fandom lololol. HUGE RECCOMMEND. It's about Johnny who gets roped into spending the holiday Christmas season with his , for the most part, very not so nice family, and Simon accompanies him. So much stuff happens in this fic and it's such a great character exploration of Simon and Johnny independently, but also as a couple, and just so much stuff happens in it lol again, HUGE RECOMMEND!!!
We'll make Death Proud to Take us - Literal_Satan
Fic where, it starts off really sweet where Simon goes to Scotland with Johnny to spend Christmas with him and his family, but things take a drastic turn when Soap's brother, a police officer/detective, gets a little too curious about mysterious Simon, and the story spirals from there. All the guys end up on this crazy goose chase tracking down some of the people who were involved in Roba's brainwashing operations. The fic gets v dark at times and deals with some very heavy trauma so beware, but it's SO. GOOD.
Dream a Little Dream - Angelicasdean
Again, one of my total fav fics in the fandom!! AU where Simon leaves the army to raise his nephew Joseph, who's the sole survivor of the Riley family massacre, and Johnny is one of the daycare teachers at the daycare where Simon takes Jo 🥺🥺👍👍
Pretend to love me like I do - FetteEule
Really cute fic of Simon who accompanied Johnny to Scotland for his sister's wedding, under the ruse they are dating. They are v much pining but not there yet. Features lots of really cute domestic moments and Simon being really sweet to Johnny's kid nephew 😭🧡
Something important - Anonymous
One of the fics that has me totally brainrotted rn. It's about Simon's who's been de-aged to 6 years old, and Price, Gaz and Soap all taking care of him and trying to figure out how he got turned, and how to turn him back! They all get tested on their abilities to care for a child, and unwillingly learn a lot of details about Simon's childhood they never knew. This summary doesn't do it justice tho, so I'd just recommend checking it out! Beware tho again, there is some dark childhood trauma stuff but there are warnings at the start of each chapter that contains references to it.
Seasons - StinglessWasp
In this fic every chapter is set during a different season and tells a unique sort of story/mission/interaction Soap and Ghost have. Definitely some v good angst&hurt/comfort stuffs too. Starts off pre-relationship, and explores their characters a lot! It's just really good HUGE reccommend lol.
What the Eyes Don't see - WhiplashRogue
One of my FAVESSSS! So the premise is like, Soap can actually see ghosts ever since he was a child (which most other people can't see and also don't believe in), and Ghost has 2 spirits attached to him that follow him around(Joseph, and Roach). The fic starts off pre relationship, and it mostly about Soap trying to learn more about these two spirits and discovering more about Ghost's past.
All that's said in the Low Light - Headlocket
Probably one of the most emotional I've ever read LMFAO. It's about Johnny, who receives a back & knee injury bad enough he gets discharged from the army, and is back in Scotland living with his parents as he recovers. He and Ghost lost contact a bit since the accident, and it's sort of a story of them reconnecting. This description doesn't do it justice, just read it, but it will emotionally destroy you lol
Time Loops Suck (series) - Enter_fand0m_reference00
The first installment of the fic takes the idea that Soap is stuck in a time loop during the alone mission! And all the optional dialogues and interactions in thE alone mission are separate attempts of his trying to survive the loops and rendez vous with Ghost. It's just sooo good!! And then there's a follow up fic where it deals with the mental aftermath of the loops and Ghost comforting soap through it, then there's 2 other installments of Simon who instead goes through a time loop! They are such great character explorations in how both Soap and Ghost experience the loops, and I whooleee heartedly reccommend.
Yellow Card - SkerryB
Soccer au fic!! It's so good! Simon is the captain of a soccer team Soap is drafted to as their new goalie. Simon has had a history with Soap before though, that he was the only goalie Simon could never score on! So that's how it starts, and it's just so good from there!! Simon's family are also alive in the fic and his nephew is adorable.
You swept me off my feet - @ghoulishhone
Ghost is down bad for strong Soap, the fic xD This was a fic Ghoulishone and I were paired together to work on for the Ghostsoap server reverse bang! They wrote the fic and I made some accompanying art. Just a cute fic of Soap having to pick up Ghost after he gets injured and some other shenanigans that ensues:)
Dear Mr Ghost - @shortcuts-make-long-delays
SUCH A CUTE FIC!! The majority of the fic is these letter/pen pal exchanges between Ghost, and Soap's young niece Chloe...it's just. So. Good. And was written by a friend of mine too! BIG RECCOMMEND.
Give me Hope and Let me Down - MechanicalBones
Some of the best Ghost whump I read lolll. Ghost is captured by some people with ties to Roba and tortured. Meanwhile Soap is on his way to rescue him, and eventually he does, and there's a lot of hurt and comfort. It's also a getting together fic. 🥺
Unspoken Love - Hammy101
( Super amazing oneshot. I feel I can't do this fic justice with any summary. Just read it. 🥺 It has decent Ghost whump AND domestic off duty cute ghost soap angsty stuff it's just one of my faves ever!!!!)
Except You, You can Stay - Iravaid
Really realistic, believable portrayal and expansion upon a lot of the key events that happen in the Ghost comics. From his childhood, to the mental aftermath of Roba, his family dying...it's heavy but really really good. And has a happier hopeful ending that's Ghost/Soap 🥺
Hat Trick of the Heart and the sequel Family, Gotta Love em - Librarian_FanFicFan
Absolutely am obsessed with these fics!!! It's an AU about Ghost who is recently discharged from the military due to injury, and on a flight back to London where he is seated next to Soap, a famous footballer/soccer player. Ghost doesn't know who he is tho, but they hit it off and exchange numbers. The second installment features Simon's family!!! And Tommy being dramatic and shocked over the fact his brother got the number of this famous sports player... SUPER CUTE IF YOU LIKE RILEY FAMILY STUFF.
As for my fav CoD authors I wholeheartedly recommend anything by:
RedClegane, m3rrywe4ther, Hammy101, TheEdwardianOne, Iravaid, and so many authors but I can't list them all ahaha...but hopefully this is a good start!
Hopefully this helps anon! Sorry it took me a while.
#call of duty#fanfiction#ghostsoap fanfic#call of duty fanfiction#fanfic#call of duty fanfiction rec list#reccommendation list#fic recs#cod fic recs#call of duty fic recs#ghostsoap#soapghost#soapghost fanfic#journen speaks#mw2#cod mw2 fanfic#modern warfare 2#mw3#modern warfare 3#cod fic rec list
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PAST LIVES (2023) PROMPTS
* assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary
who do you think they are to each other?
i guess that doesn't make sense.
why are you crying?
what did you decide?
i will probably marry him.
you want to go on a date with him?
if you leave something behind, you gain something, too.
you're really leaving? you're never coming back?
there was so much in it that i responded to, but the one phrase that sticks with me the most is the line "the long journey is rotting."
who else should we look up?
think of it as a blessing that you broke up, and consider this a new beginning.
of course you miss her, you moron.
do you have a secret girlfriend or something?
who's messaging you at 3AM?
thank you for this meal.
did you drink a lot last night?
why are you in such a good mood?
i recognize you.
how are we meeting again like this?
i didn't even know that you remembered me!
i just looked for you as a joke, then i saw that you'd been looking for me.
i tried really hard to find you.
do you still cry a lot?
you would always stay with me whenever i was crying.
you can't cry in new york city.
i'm a really fun person to talk to.
what time is it there?
it doesn't make a lot of sense, but... can i even say something like this? i missed you.
i only speak korean with you and my mom.
you're the same as the 12 year old kid in my memory.
have you seen eternal sunshine of the spotless mind?
will you come to new york sometime?
will you come to seoul sometime?
i want us to stop talking to each other for a while.
i want to accomplish something here.
what are you sorry about? were we dating or something?
tonight, we drink 'til we die.
you got the worst room.
maybe you and i were somebody to each other in another lifetime.
do you believe that? that you and i knew each other in another life?
it's going to rain the whole time you're there.
i missed you. i was disappointed.
we're not together right now.
do you not want to get married?
i'm too ordinary.
my job is ordinary, my income is ordinary. it's all ordinary.
is it hard to get married if you don't make a ton of money?
want me to take a photo of you?
you look good.
why do you fight?
it's like planting two trees in one pot. our roots are finding their place.
you're worrying about me?
getting married is hard for idealistic people like you.
why did you look for me?
i just wanted to see you one more time.
i think i was a little pissed off because you just left.
you're right. there's nothing to be sorry about.
i don't have a right to be mad.
i'm not gonna miss my rehearsals for some dude.
we're not meant for each other.
we slept together because we both happened to be single.
you make it sound so romantic.
that's not how life works.
this is my life. and i'm living it with you.
this is where i ended up. this is where i'm supposed to be.
it's just that you make my life so much bigger, and i'm wondering if i do the same thing for you.
you're forgetting the part where i love you.
you never sleep talk in english. you only dream in korean.
i didn't know that. you never told me.
most of the time i think it's cute, but sometimes... i don't know. i get scared.
you dream in a language that i can't understand. there's this whole place inside of you where i can't go.
you really are exactly the same as i remember you.
when we stopped talking... i really missed you. did you miss me?
i don't know, seeing you again and being here makes me have a lot of weird thoughts.
what if you had never left? if you hadn't left like that, and we just grew up together, would i have still looked for you?
would we have dated? broken up? gotten married? would we have kids together?
you had to leave because you're you.
i think there was something in our past lives.
i never thought i'd be part of something like this.
i'm really glad you came here. it was the right thing to do.
#past lives#rp prompt#rp meme#mcflymemes#roleplay memes#rp memes#roleplay prompt#rp starters#ask meme#ask memes#roleplay meme#roleplay inbox prompts#rp inbox meme#inbox prompt#inbox meme#sentence starter prompt#sentence starter#sentence starters
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Did Les ever dated in the past? Also is he with anyone recently?
Les quit school really early, like 10-years-old early, and he started working soon after, so he didn't really have friends his age. That kinda puts a buffer on a teenager's social and love life. Though there was something that happened at a house party once, that was, uh... a bad experience, and it left him with a lot of issues. Also, partially because of this, he's not really someone who acts on his crushes. So he never dated before.
But at one point the band spent a few months in the same location (dunno the reason yet, but maybe they weren't getting enough gigs and they had to take up some part time jobs for a while), and Les developed a crush on a bartender at a nearby club.
She's the only OC of mine who's visually a bigger weirdo than Les, and he definitely saw a little bit of himself in her, and hoping for someone with some shared life experience, it's what initially attracted him toward her and vice versa.
So they had a thing going on for a short time. It never developed into anything serious because sadly they are very alike, which means they are BOTH morons who are shy about making the first move. And after a while they came to the agreement that they were better as just friends.
Floyd with his persistent crush was not happy about the possible romance at first, but he ended up being happy for Les, and he finally decided to give his hopeless longing a rest, since the only good it was doing was growing a rift between his and Les's friendship.
Funny enough it was Floyd backing down which allowed the two to grow closer. Les lowered his guard since he no longer had to overthink if Floyd would interpret anything he did or said as some kind of flirting or act of love, and he no longer had to brace himself for any uncomfortable romancing coming from Floyd either.
They were already good friends since the start but they became much more casual with each other and began to understand each other on a deeper level as years passed. As Floyd got older and more mature, and became an equal with the rest of the bandmates, it was actually Les who fell for him, hard. He didn't really do anything about it though, but Floyd eventually realized this and you know he did something about it. Though Floyd's crush had gone from looking at Les as this cool experienced older guy when he was younger to now seeing him as a shy innocent teddy bear compared to his lewd self ksjhdkjs.
So technically they became each other's first proper all-encompassing relationship. And by that I mean that besides the lovey-dovey obvious stuff, they were also best friends and helped each other grow a lot. Also Floyd by the time they got together, already started a habit of hooking up with strangers at parties, so being with Les forced him to slow down and progress through a relationship slowly and at a healthy pace for someone his age (since you can't really get anywhere with Les without a lot of patience). And Floyd got Les to become comfortable with opening up and talking about his deep-rooted feelings. They talked about issues they faced, many of which were related to Les's childhood trauma, instead of him just ignoring or suppressing it all. (Floyd also opened up about his own family trauma with Les obviously, but he talked about it even before they got together.)
The relationship, especially at the start, could still be considered questionable from an outsider's perspective, but so was the band's lifestyle in general. They were good for each other during that period while they were growing up and figuring themselves and each other out, which is what matters I think.
It was honestly mainly Floyd's undiagnosed bipolar disorder that made the relationship suffer toward the end of Floyd's days in the band. It created a lot of trust issues between Floyd and Les, and also Floyd and everyone else, heck it even made Floyd distrust himself, since he and none else knew or understood what was happening with him. This led to a lot of misery and anger that he mostly ended up directing at Les, and it was what eventually made them break up and Floyd leave.
#god damn it floyd's bpd at it again. what do i do with it. maybe i really should send him to therapy... 🤔#I know this answer is late but when I received the ask I was still developing the oc. whose name is Brook btw. i guess i forgot to say that#she is a sweetiepie and yes you will see more of her if you want#trolls#dreamworks trolls#ex bandmates#trolls floyd#trolls oc#les#brook#my art#answered#floyd in the first pic is feeling threatened lmao. bby you have no chance with him at this point go start your hoe career first#long post
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