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rowarn · 5 months

Text

PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT2

simon riley / reader

FIND PART ONE || read the full thing on ao3

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

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

note: this is part two and contains the gratuitous smut portion ur all looking forward to <3

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

PART 2: 17.9k total: 35.8k

Things seem to get much better between you. Your anger and resentment towards Simon diminishes significantly and you can finally say you feel comfortable around him again. You wouldn’t say you’ve forgotten everything that happened, you fear that the entire ordeal has left its scar on you.

But you finally feel ready to truly begin to work on yourself and get to a better place mentally.

You’re humming to yourself as you dust the surfaces in your living room, cringing in disgust when you see how dusty a particular shelf was.

Just as you go to give it another swipe, your front door opens and Simon stumbles in, huffing from effort as he carries two armfuls of groceries.

“Simon!” you cry out, watching with wide eyes from the stepstool you stood on as he ungracefully dropped them on the floor, “Why did you bring them all up here like that?”

“Didn’t wanna make another trip,” he explained lamely, flexing his hands as he looked over all the bags.

“Okay, I guess,” you chuckle softly.

Simon finally looks up at you, “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” you shrug, waving the duster at him, “I haven’t felt like doing it until now so might as well get it done when I feel like it!”

He’s quiet for a moment before he steps over the bags of groceries.His boots thunk heavily on the floor as he approaches you. Suddenly, he wraps an arm around your middle. You squeak in surprise when he very carefully and gently pulls you off of the stool and places you back onto your feet.

Then he walks away like nothing happened, snatching up a couple groceries up from the floor to take to the kitchen.

You decide not to comment on his behavior and simply choose to grab a couple of bags and help him out. When you get inside the kitchen, he’s already stuffing things into the refrigerator. You place the bags down and go back to pick some more up, transferring all the bags of groceries near him so he can easily put them away.

You notice one of the bags has some piping, lightbulbs, wires, and other things you can’t identify.

“What’s all this?” you ask, holding the bag out to him when he turns to look.

He grunts, closing the fridge, “Gonna fix some shit around here.”

“Why?” you ask, scrunching your nose up as you place the bag on the counter.

“Shithole needs it,” he mumbles, moving to start opening the cabinets, “Since you refuse to let me move you out of this place, I’m gonna make sure it at least functions.”

You hum and nod your head. Simon had attempted to convince you to move out and into an apartment of his own choosing but you flat out refused. He was already paying the rent on this place, you weren’t going to let him spend more money for a different place – because you know Simon would choose somewhere that would cost a lot more than your current flat.

But you couldn’t deny, the idea of Simon doing a little manual labor around the apartment made your heart flutter in your chest. The way he took care of you and was willing to get his hands dirty just to make sure you were comfortable. The little domestic tasks you could imagine him doing.

It almost felt like something a husband would do.

You felt your cheeks flush immediately at the train of thought. How embarrassing and juvenile to think something like that

“I can cook dinner!” you mumble after clearing your throat.

Simon actually has the audacity to laugh. You frown as he shakes his head, closing the cabinet before turning to you.

“Absolutely not,” he says.

Your jaw drops, “Why?!”

“Because,” he steps closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before breezing past you, “You’re a terrible cook, love.”

You open your mouth to retort but can only huff. Because he’s right. The last time you tried to make dinner for the two of you, you had confused cayenne with cinnamon and made the most diabolical stew known to man. He vowed to never let you cook anything that required more than boiling water since.

You pout your way back to the living room, mumbling a petulant, “Fine…” as you went.

You didn’t catch the broad grin on Simon’s face as he watched you sulk away. He was just happy to see your vibrance returning before his very eyes.

True to his word, however, he began to do some random odd jobs around the apartment. He changed that damn leaky faucet in the kitchen first. He would never admit it but it was beginning to drive him completely mad. He swore he could hear it dripping into the metal sink basin in his dreams.

Then he fixed the piping in the bathroom so they would stop all that god-awful clanking that practically woke up the entire complex. But after that, he figured he might as well fix the piping under the sinks as well.

That’s when you saw him. On his back, big body sprawled out as he worked underneath the cabinet, wrench in hand and soft grunts of effort coming from him. His t-shirt rose up just a bit, exposing a small stretch of tummy and his happy trail. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it made your mouth go completely dry.

You felt like a Victorian man seeing his first ankle on a woman. Ridiculous.

Sure, you’d seen Simon shirtless countless times – hell, you walked in on him completely naked once or twice. But there was something particularly…delicious about him like this. Unaware, casual, just doing work.

It made a swell of heat settle in your abdomen. You squeezed your thighs together as you watched him. His biceps flexed and bulged, making the sleeve of his t-shirt grow taut around his skin. His muscles moved underneath the tattoos inked into his skin.

You dragged your eyes down his body, past his pecs, past the sliver of tummy. You imagined yourself crawling between those thick thighs and unbuckling his belt, tugging at the button of his jeans. You imagined getting to see his cock chub up inside his boxers before you would pull it out and wrap your lips around the leaking tip.

Salty, you imagine. You’ve always heard that men’s cum and pre-cum would be salty. Would Simon’s taste as bad as some of your friends had told you back in highschool? You hoped not. You couldn’t imagine not enjoying every part of him – even his cum.

You wanted him to shoot in your mouth, let you taste it. You wanted to milk it out of him, give him no choice but to cum down your throat.

“Are you just going to stand there or do you need something?” his voice startled you out of your thoughts.

Wide eyed, you looked to meet his gaze but you found he wasn’t even looking at you, still staring at the piped overhead.

“Um,” you cleared your throat, floundering for an excuse as to why you were ogling him like a piece of meat, “I didn’t want to interrupt you. I-I was just wanting to make sure the shower was okay to use?”

He grunts, letting out a soft sigh before pushing himself out from under the sink, closing the cabinet before wiping his brow with the back of his hand, “Yeah, go ahead and shower, love.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, casting one last glance to see that his t-shirt had fallen back into place. Disappointing.

You trudge out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. Softly, you close the door and turn on the shower. The pipes don’t clang when the water shoots through them. It brings a smile to your face.

Once you’re stripped and standing under the warm spray, you let your hands wander your body. First, you cup your breasts, watching your nipples harden under your own touch before you slide one hand between your thighs. There’s a slickness between your folds that's distinctly different from the water, it’s slippery and sticky. But it makes your touch against your clit easy.

You bite your lips to keep quiet, scared to death that Simon could hear you from under the sound of the water. You make quick, tight little circles against your clit. The bud is hard and twitches under your fingers. It makes the breath stutter out of your chest.

You need more room, you realize, hiking your foot up onto a shelf. It spreads you open just a little more, gives you a little more access for your fingers to play. You sigh, head tipping forward to watch as you circle your own clit.

But the more you touch yourself, the faster that tingling, warm sensation dissipates. You huff through your clenched teeth, frustrated.

Usually, you could at least feel the beginning of that peak forming but this time…not even close. So you shamefully close your legs and go about your shower as if nothing happened, taking care to wash the slick from between your thighs especially.

As you lay in bed that night, Simon breathing deeply beside you as he slept, you were lost in thought.

Surely, you were in the wrong for thinking about Simon like that – for getting wet at the sight of him. And then sleeping soundly next to him as if you weren’t some kind of pervert. Maybe you should just confess and apologize to him.

No. You quickly admonish that thought, glancing over at his prone form. You couldn’t bear to see him be disgusted by you. He’d already rejected you years ago, finalized it and put the nail in the coffin so you would never be dumb enough to do it again.

What would he do if he found out about your…attraction to him? He practically lived with you now, after everything happened. He was in your flat more than he was on base now. It was only a matter of time before he caught you with your hands dancing in your pants.

Your cheeks flushed at the idea. Part of you thought it hot – for him to find you needy like that, desperately playing with your clit as you try to make yourself cum.

But on the other hand, you could see the wrinkle of disgust in his brow and sneer on his face as he walked away. That outcome was not worth it, you decided.

With a sigh, you rolled over so your back faced Simon and closed your eyes for the night.

You both should have known better that the fragile peacefulness between the two of you was just that – fragile, balancing on a delicate precipice that could shatter at any moment.

The ring of his phone was the break.

“Answer that for me, love!” he called from the kitchen where he was busy preparing dinner.

You leaned forward to check the number. It wasn’t in his contacts but Simon never got calls from people unless he knew them. So you slowly slid the button over and accepted the call.

“Hello?” you mumbled into the phone.

There was a beat of silence before a woman’s voice responded in kind, “Hello?”

“Um…” you swallowed down the apprehension that settled in your chest, casting a glance towards Simon’s back as he stood over the stove, “Who may I ask is calling?”

“I’m looking for Simon,” she said, sounding much more coy than a second ago. She knew his real name and that irked you. People from work always referred to him as Ghost, only those he considered trustworthy or friends were privy to calling him Simon.

“Um, he’s busy at the moment, can I take a message?” you ask, loud enough for Simon to hear in the kitchen if he was interested in intervening. But he didn’t move.

“Sure!” she giggled, “Tell him that Victoria really wants to see him again and to call me so we can!”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, “Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll let him know…”

“Thank you,” she cooed in a sultry tone, “Oh! And tell him I really had a great time last time we were together and that I’m looking forward to a repeat performance.”

“Yeah. I’ll do that,” you assured, hoping you didn’t sound as tense as you felt.

She giggled before the call disconnected and you were left glaring at his stupid stock phone wallpaper.

“Who was it?” Simon comes to the archway of the kitchen, leaning against the wall. You can’t hear anything cooking anymore so you assume he’s finished dinner.

“Victoria,” you spit the name out like it’s poisonous, “Says she wants to see you again and she had a fantastic time with you last time.”

Simon shifts where he stands, looking down at his feet before looking back up to you, “Alright. I’ll call her back later.”

That sends knives straight through your heart. It aches so badly that you want to bite your own tongue off to make it stop.

Jealousy, you realize. You’re fucking jealous. Some girl calls and asks for his dick and he just says okay?

He’s not yours, you tell yourself. He can fuck whoever he wants.

But that does nothing to quell the inferno raging inside you.

There’s other feelings brewing inside you; rejection, fear, loss.

You feel bitter that you’re right there and he would still never choose you. He’ll always choose someone else because he doesn’t see you like that. It feels like he’s throwing it in your face, just spitting at you to show you that he doesn’t love you like you love him. He never has and he never will. You’ll never be an option to him because he doesn’t want you.

Then you’re scared he’s going to leave you. He’s going to go to this Victoria chick and leave you all alone so he can get his dick wet again. Just like last time. Maybe he’ll like it so much he wants to stay with her. Maybe he’s going to leave you behind so he can start a new, happy life without having to worry about the dead weight that’s been dragging him down since he was 8. You. His responsibility. His problem.

You’re so scared that he’s going to be ripped from your grasp. That you’re going to lose him to someone else and it’s going to be you and your pathetic one-sided love for the rest of your life. Fuck, you’ve loved him since you were 4. You’ve loved him for so long that it makes you nauseous to think about. How many people loved one person for this long?

Please, you wanted to cry to him, please love me.

Please, just love me back.

“So you’re gonna go then?’ you finally find your voice, bitterness and resentment thick in your tone, “You’re gonna leave me to go to a booty call again?”

He stands up straight at that. Arms cross over his chest, he watches that way you glare at him, heated and teary-eyed. Hurt.

He knew you still weren’t over the way he left you that time – when you needed him the most. You’d been ignoring the residual hurt that lingered, intent on pretending that everything was fine. He had been doing his best to make up for it but it always felt like one step forward and two steps back with you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures softly, “I’ll call her back to tell her that it won’t happen.”

He tries his best to remain level-headed and soft, to be reassuring like he knows you need. But your expression doesn’t change. You continue to glare at him with that furious, hurt look in your eyes.

Suddenly, you stand.

“I don’t believe you,” you hiss, turning your back to him, storming down the hallway.

He almost winces when he hears how hard you slam the bedroom door. He thinks about going back there to talk to you but decides against it. You need some space to calm yourself down.

He eats the dinner he made for both of you alone, putting your half in the fridge for later. He goes about the apartment, locking the door and turning out all the lights. Then he gets to the bedroom door and goes to turn the knob and it doesn’t budge.

Despite himself, he laughs. He jiggles the knob, jerks the door a little harder like it’ll open with a bit of force. And it might, it’s a flimsy ass door if he’s being honest – he’s forced bigger and heavier doors open before.

He snaps your name, humor gone from his voice. You don’t answer.

“Open the damn door,” he snaps, trying the knob again. He gets silence in return so he slams his fist against the surface. The sound is loud enough that it makes his own ears ring, “I said open the door. I’m not playin’ this game with you, sweetheart.”

“Sleep on the couch, Simon!” he hears your wobbly voice call back. Of course you’re in there crying, he thinks.

“I’m not sleepin’ on the fuckin’ couch,” he hisses, leaning his forearm against the door, resting his head against it with a sigh, “Open the door and let’s talk.”

“Don’t wanna talk to you,” you whine, bratty as all hell. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so damn pissed, “Why don’t you go sleep with Victoria since you like her so much.”

You don’t know why you say that last part. You don’t want him to go to her, you don’t want him to go anywhere. The thought of it brings more tears to your eyes.

Simon is silent on the other side of the door for a long while. You almost think he walked away and succumbed to the couch. You wouldn’t actually let him sleep on that awful thing, of course. You just…you don’t know what the end goal here is, if you’re honest.

“Fine,” he finally spits, “If that’s what you want, I’ll fuck off and find Victoria.”

You hear the floorboards creak under his weight as he walks away. You sit up straight in bed at that, eyes wide as you listen to him stalk through the house. You swear you hear the jingle of his keys and that’s what has you lurching out of bed in a panic.

You almost trip over the sheets as they tangle around your legs but you manage to free yourself and wrench the door open.

“Simon!” you practically shriek, rounding the corner of the hallway to find him standing with his back to you, facing the door.

He’s got his hoodie and mask on, boots firmly on his feet and keys in hand. He stands still, back straight as his shoulders rise and fall with his breathing. But he waits.

“Don’t go,” you find yourself whimpering, “‘M sorry. Come to bed, okay?”

He doesn’t move and that makes your heart pound in your chest. You know he’s pissed, can see it in the way his fists stay clenched at his sides. His fingers twitch and he makes a move for the doorknob and you surge forward, wrapping yourself around his other arm, yanking him away from the door as hard as you can.

He lets your weight knock him off balance, lets you drag him away from the door. He lets you tug him down the hallway, sniffling and crying as you do.

“J-Just…” you find yourself frantically tugging his mask off, tossing it away before you rip the hem of his hoodie up. He doesn’t help you or fight you as you try to take it off of him. He just stares blankly at you, like he’s assessing you. You hate it. “G-Get ready for bed, okay? Just…we can go to sleep.”

“Why do you make this so fuckin’ hard for me?” he finally breaks his silence, the question cold and calculating. Like he’s tired. Exhausted, “I keep tryin’ to make it up to you. But every time something goes wrong, you throw everything back in my face and you act like you hate me again. I can’t keep…” he trails off, shaking his head before he sits at the foot of the bed, hands clasped together and head hanging between his shoulders.

“I love you,” you blurt out, a sob breaking out of your lips as you do. Simon doesn’t move. Your hands cover your eyes, as if being blind to his reaction will make the rejection hurt less, “I love you and i-it just keeps messing me up inside. I’m sorry.”

“You love me?” he asks, still no emotion in his voice.

When you peek at him, he’s in the same position as before, hands clasped, elbows on his knees, head bowed. You have no idea what expression he’s wearing and you’re scared to find out.

“Yes,” you hiccup, sniffling softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asks softly, almost solemnly.

“I promised,” you cry, another choked sob escaping you.

“Promised..?” he doesn’t sound cold anymore, just confused, “The fuck’re you talkin’ about?”

“W-When I was 14,” you whimper, shame filling you as you recall your now-broken promise, “I-I told you I liked you and you said you didn’t feel the same. You told me to never bring it up again and I promised I wouldn’t. B-But…” you sobbed again, stopping yourself from finishing the sentence.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he breathes, bringing his hands to his face, scrubbing them up and down vigorously in a way that looks like it hurts. Then he laughs.

He fucking laughs.

It’s like your worst fears come to light. He’s laughing at you, at your confession. At your feelings. A fresh wave of tears fill your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You bite your lips to keep from making your sobs audible anymore. You didn’t want him to laugh at that too. You hang your head, wringing your hands together behind your back anxiously as Simon quiets down.

“Shit,” he breathes, getting to his feet. He stands before you, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. He frowns when he sees the utter despair on your face, the heartbreak in your eyes, “No, baby. No, no. I wasn’t laughin’ at you.”

Baby. You catch onto it. He’s never called you that before.

You dash the spark of hope that it causes.

He rubs his thumbs under your eyes, wiping the tears away.

Then, he leans forward and slots his lips against yours.

It’s like fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart races so fast that you feel lightheaded. You can’t even respond to the kiss in time before he pulls away, your mind is moving too fast for you to process any meaningful thought. But he kissed you.

Simon kissed you.

“What?” you finally manage to whisper, looking up with wide, shocked eyes, “Why did you..?”

He looks confused for a second, still cupping your cheeks as he looks into your watery eyes, “You really have no idea?” Your brows furrow immediately and you shake your head, “How I feel about you?”

“You feel..?” you dumbly repeat.

He smiles softly, thumb rubbing softly over your cheekbone, “You really think I don’t feel the same?”

“B-But when…when we were kids I…” you stumble over your words, the truth you’ve believed this entire time seemingly false, “You s-said you didn’t feel the same.”

“Jesus, love,” he huffs softly in disbelief, “You were fourteen. I was seventeen. You were way too fuckin’ young for me, it wouldn’t have been right.”

“B-But then…” you stutter, reaching up to wipe your cheek, “When did you..?”

He shrugs, “Not sure exactly. Suppose sometime after you turned 20 was when I realized I felt somethin’ for you.”

“So you really…” you whisper, snagging your hands into his hoodie to pull him close, “You really…I mean…”

“Love you?” he smiles softly, “Of course I do.”

You lean forward and press your lips to his. He hums, wrapping one strong arm around your middle to pull you even closer. His lips work magically over yours, taking control of the kiss with ease. You easily melt into it, following his lead. It’s not as easy as you thought it would be and you hope Simon doesn’t notice.

But he does, of course he does.

He pulls away and smooths the palm of his hand down your cheek before it comes to rest on your jaw. His thumb slides over your bottom lip and he hums.

“You ever kissed before?” he asks, voice calm and level with no teasing to it at all.

Still, heat explodes all over your face. Embarrassment overrides the euphoria of your requited feelings. You try to pull away but Simon’s much stronger and he won’t let go unless he wants to.

“Hey, don’t run,” he coos softly, turning your face to look back up at him, “I was just askin’.”

“No,” you mumble, still burning with embarrassment, “I-I’ve only ever liked you so…”

“Fuckin’ hell…” he whispers, letting you step back just a bit so he can look over you, “Is that right?”

“You should know that,” you mumble, feeling small under his scrutiny, “You know everything about me.”

“Didn’t think datin’ history was somethin’ you felt like sharin’,” he shrugged off.

“Well, now you know,” you mutter, your gaze glued to the floor.

“That I do,” he hums in agreement, reaching out to brush a hand down the length of your arm.

A soft, quietness falls over the two of you. You’re not sure what to do and it seems he’s content where he is. He’s watching you, tracking every little shift and fidget you make until he finally seems to take pity on you.

“Let’s get to bed,” he says softly, giving you a soft nudge towards the bed.

You take the opportunity to dive into bed, yanking the blanket over you as Simon strips himself out of his boots and hoodie. You go to look away as he yanks his belt free with practiced hands but you can’t seem to. He slips the belt out of the loops and drops it on the dresser before unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them off.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him in a tight pair of navy boxer-briefs slung low on his hips. You can make out the shape of his–

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he mumbles half-heartedly as he turns to root through the dresser to find some sweatpants.

“Sorry…” you mutter shamefully at being caught.

He chuckles under his breath, pulling the sweats on before he rounds to his side of the bed and drops onto the mattress, “Nothin’ to be sorry about.”

He leans over you and turns out the tableside lamp. Then he settles into his pillow with a soft sigh.

“Si..?” you whisper.

“Yeah?” you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Are we um…” you clear your throat, “I mean like…are we…together now..?”

You feel him roll over and toss his arms around you. You squeak when he tugs you towards him roughly, securing you against his chest before he kisses the top of your head.

“Do you want to be together?” he asks, muffled by his lips pressed against you.

“Yes,” you whisper quickly, wrapping yourself around him almost possessively.

He tilts your head up and carefully slots his mouth over yours again. You sigh happily at the feeling.

You notice that he keeps it a lot slower than he had before, moving his lips carefully against yours. Like he’s trying to make it easier for you to keep up. It makes your cheeks flush again but you sink into the pillow and let him kiss all he wants as you do your best to match his movements.

His body shifts, torso hovering over you as he rests his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. Your hands rest against his shoulders and simply get lost in the kiss.

After a moment, he deepens the kiss, sinking into you with his chest pressed against yours. You whimper and wrap your arms around his neck, carding your fingers through his cropped hair.

One of his hands moves, coming to grip your waist, fingers sliding up the hem of your shirt. It’s like a dream come true. Literally.

All those nights you spent with your hand between your thighs, thinking of him. Thinking of him touching you like this – with his hand sliding your shirt up a little further every second. You even feel that familiar wetness soaking your panties.

Then why was your heart racing from anxiety instead of excitement? Why did you feel a fearful tremble setting in your thighs, as if your knees would be knocking together if you were standing. Why were you scared?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re shoving your hands against his chest with a weak, “No!”

Simon is off of you in seconds but you can feel his gaze on you in the darkness. You struggle to catch your breath as you lay there, heart pounding in your ears. Your head hurts, you realize with a wince.

“Um…” you find yourself attempting to appease him, “I-I don’t…I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s alright,” he whispers sincerely, settling down into bed with a content hum, “Nothin’ to worry about, love.”

You scoot closer to him and hesitantly place your head on his chest. Simon’s arm wraps around your back and tucks you even more snug against him. You close your eyes and will yourself to relax and sleep as you feel Simon’s comforting hand rubbing your back.

Neither of you talk about it in the morning. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. You don’t bring it up, even though you want to, and Simon doesn’t try touching you like that again. Part of you wants him to, you’ve been dreaming about his touch for years but once you finally get it, you freak out?

You can’t stop beating yourself up over it.

But then you think about the anxiety that it had caused. The apprehension. How uncomfortable it felt – how you wanted his hands off of you.

You sighed, flopping onto your side on the couch where you sat. Your mind was buzzing annoyingly from your thoughts.

Regardless of your problems, you were happier than ever with him. He was finally yours. Wholly and truly yours. It was bliss.

“Got a call,” Simon says, snapping you out of your daze, “Gotta leave.”

That makes you sit up, “Leave?”

You finally notice that he’s got his bag packed – the one he only takes when he’s getting deployed. You’re on your feet in seconds, following him to the door. He’s wearing his skull balaclava so all you can see are his eyes – sad, apologetic.

“H-How long?” you ask, unable to ignore the ache in your chest as you watch him.

“Few weeks, probably,” he mutters, placing the bag down so he can tuck his feet into his boots.

He straightens up with a grunt before turning to you. He sighs, gloved hands cupping your cheeks when he sees how sad you look – like a kicked puppy. You wish you could feel his bare hands on you but can’t find it in you to ask.

“I don’t want you to go,” you find yourself mumbling.

It’s selfish and even a bit cruel of you to voice that desire. Simon’s thumb strokes your cheek in that sweet way he always does and you melt into him. He lets you thump your head against his chest as you suppress your cries, biting your lip so you can keep your tears at bay.

“I know,” he softly whispers, stroking your back as you cling to him, “I know, but I have to.”

“I know,” you mumble, finally looking up at him. You know your eyes are glassy and you make sure to blink back the tears so they never overflow, “Just be safe and come home, okay?”

He lifts his mask up just enough to expose his lips before he leans down to kiss you. It’s a whole body experience this time. He clutches you against him like his life depends on it, gloved hands fiercely gripping the back of your t-shirt. His lips move smoothly against yours, hand coming up to cup your jaw so he can tilt your head and pull you even deeper into his kiss. He pulls away when he needs to breathe, smiling when he sees the dazed, lovesick expression on your face. He tugs his mask down and lets you go but you stay as close to him as possible.

“Make sure you stay warm,” he coos, “Gonna start gettin’ real cold in a couple days.”

“I will, Si,” you assure him.

“Left some cash for you to do your shoppin’,” he adds, “I know you’re a shit cook but I left a list of some easy recipes. Don’t burn the flat down.”

You snort and playfully smack his shoulder, “I’ll just buy some cup noodles in that case.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching your side to make you gasp from the ticklish feeling, “Don’t even think about it.”

Your grin falters when his phone makes that obnoxious beeping noise that lets you know it’s something urgent. He sighs, the tranquil happiness between you two broken immediately. He kisses your forehead through his mask and pulls the front door open.

“Keep this locked,” he mutters, stepping past the threshold, “I’ll be home soon.”

He closes the door and you’re left with an emptiness that overcomes you. You’ve always been scared for him when he has to go off on missions – you know that his job is extremely dangerous and he could lose his life at any moment. That thought alone makes a nauseous pit settle in your stomach. You push down the feeling of bile rising in the back of your throat and click the lock on the door with a sigh before you go about your day, trying your best to keep your mind off of him and where he might be in the world.

True to his word, however, the temperature drops bitterly cold within 2 days after he leaves. There had already been a chill in the air that drove you to turn the heating on just a bit but now it was full blast. But now, it was dipping to freezing and you were anticipating the arrival of snow soon enough as well.

You wake up one morning, however, and your apartment is bitterly cold. You sit up, confused before climbing out of bed. Your feet are immediately freezing as you step onto the floor. You hiss, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stumble over to the radiator in your room. You touch it and find absolutely no heat emanating from it.

All the radiators are the same. Absolutely no heat.

You curse, realizing you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. You curl up on the couch under a heavy throw blanket as you type with bitterly cold fingers into Google, looking for anything that can help you. But it’s to no avail. You can’t understand a thing.

Your next thought is to call the building manager but you know that’s pointless. The useless man never actually helps with any work for his tenants.

There’s no way in hell that you can afford to call someone to come and fix the problem. You have money for groceries but if you spent that you wouldn’t have anything to eat. You sigh, resolving yourself to bundling up and trying to stay as warm as you can.

You pile all the blankets you have into bed and pick out only your thickest, warmest sweaters.

This is going to be miserable, you think.

The snow comes just a short week later and it feels even colder. You venture out of your flat to go to the grocery store, picking up ingredients for the dishes Simon wrote down for you and also some cans of soup that you can cook to stay warm. You also throw some boxes of tea and some hot chocolate in with it, figuring why not. Warm drinks will help.

It’s almost 3 weeks of living like that. It’s miserable and makes your bones ache from how stiff the cold makes you feel. You make sure to eat nice, hot food to keep yourself warm and make frequent cups of warm drinks so you can keep your hands warm for as long as you can. You do your best.

The worst is showers, though. When you’re standing under the blisteringly hot spray, it’s bliss. But the second you step out and your wet body is hit with the freezing air, you couldn’t have felt more miserable.

The night Simon walks through the door, he finds you bundled up on the couch sipping a cup of hot chocolate.

“Simon!” you gasp excitedly, tossing the blankets off to take a running leap at him.

He huffs contentedly when he catches you in his arms, letting you embrace him for as long as you need. He strips his mask off and brings you in for a delicate kiss.

“Let me wash up,” he mumbles, stalking through the apartment.

“Um, before you do, Si,” you catch him at the entrance to the hallway. He turns to you and looks at you with a brow raised, “The um…heating is broken so…just letting you know when you come out of the shower it’s gonna suck.”

“Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t dealt with before,” he mutters and pauses, “The fuck you mean it’s broken?”

“Heating cut off a few weeks ago…” you shrug, wrapping your arms around yourself as you start to feel the cold creep in again.

“A few weeks ago?” he hisses, running a stressed hand through his hair, “Fuckin’ hell. You didn’t call someone to fix it?”

You pout as he raises his voice, clearly frustrated, “I couldn’t afford it, Si! I had the money you gave me for food but I wasn’t gonna spend that to get the heating fixed. You know the building manager is a piece of shit, not like he was gonna call someone.”

He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, seemingly thinking something over. Then he turns on his heel and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door.

“I’m sorry, Simon!” you call through the door, “I didn’t know what else to do! Please, don’t be mad.”

The shower turns on and all you can do is look up and sigh in exasperation. The second he’s home and he’s already pissed at you.

You sulk over to the couch and flop down, tossing your blankets over you as you grab your mug. The hot chocolate is still warm but not as hot as it was. It’ll have to do.

Simon comes out of the shower, gets dressed warmly, and joins you in the living room. He doesn’t even look at you as he makes a move for his bag that he left by the door. You almost think he’s going to scoop the bag up and storm out the door. You sit up, ready to stop him but instead, he stoops down and zips it open. He pulls out his wallet and approaches you.

“What are you doing?” you mumble, watching him flip the thing open.

It’s old and worn, a simple black leather wallet. He’s had it for as long as you could remember and you’ve put the poor thing through the washer and dryer so many times that you’re shocked it's still intact.

He pulls out a bank card and promptly hands it to you. Your brain stutters to a stop as you look at it.

“Take it, fuck sake,” he mutters. He sounds annoyed but the way he looks away and his ears turn pink you can tell he’s…shy.

Simon Riley is fucking shy right now.

You take the bank card out of his hand and look at it, flipping over in your hands, “Why are you giving this to me?”

“So you can use it,” he mumbles, slamming his wallet shut and tossing it onto the table, “That way, in case anything happens you can withdraw from my account for what you need. If an emergency happens and I’m not around, use it.”

“Simon…” you mumble, looking up at him, “Are you sure..?”

“Course I’m sure,” he scoffs, taking a seat beside you before softly rattling off four digits.

“Huh?” you dumbly ask.

“It’s my pin,” he responds, grabbing one of the blankets you have piled on the couch and tossing it on his lap.

“That’s my birthday…” you say softly as you repeat the numbers over and over in your head, “Your bank pin is my birthday?”

He snatches the remote up from the table and turns the TV on without another word. But you can see how pink the tips of his ears are. It makes you beam and before you know it, you’re curling snugly into his side.

“Love you, Si,” you whisper, earning a kiss to the top of your head in response.

Simon calls the next morning to have someone come by and fix the damn heating. You listen to the man rattle off some information to Simon about what the problem was but it makes virtually no sense to you so you resolve yourself to sitting on the couch and waiting until it’s warm again.

But even when it’s nice and toasty inside, you still plaster yourself to Simon’s side, snuggling as close to him as you possibly can.

“I want you to meet my team,” Simon says one morning while he’s making some eggs.

You’re standing by the toaster, waiting for it to pop up but his words make you turn to him, “You mean 141?”

“Who else?” he huffs, flipping one of the eggs. It sizzles loudly in the pan, “They wanted me to go out with them tonight. Thought you could join us.”

“Really?” you realize how incredulous you sound and then try again, “I mean really? That’s okay with you?”

He nods, plating the eggs, “I think it’s time they met you.”

“I-I’d love to,” you say, unable to hide the excitement you feel.

You catch a slip of a smile on Simon’s face before the toast pops up and distracts you.

You have to dig into your closet that evening, after a shower, to find something nice to wear. You figure an occasion like this calls for something a little nicer than just jeans and a t-shirt like you usually wear. But you can’t find much of anything.

“What’re you huffin’ about in here?” Simon asks when he walks in, towel wrapped around his waist. He’s still dripping wet from the shower and you can feel the way your mouth fills with saliva at the sight.

“I uh…don’t know what to wear…” you respond, turning your back to him just as he slips the towel off. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, imagining Simon completely naked behind you.

“Wear those nice jeans you got,” he mumbles, grunting as he gets himself dressed, “And that little blue top you got.”

“The cropped one?” you ask incredulously, a brow raised as you turn to him. He’s got some jeans on now and he’s meticulously unfolding a black t-shirt so he can put it on, “I haven’t worn that in a while, how’d you even remember it?”

He shrugs, the muscles in his back rippling with his movement before he tosses the shirt over his head and pulls it down, covering his skin once again, “It’s cute. We’re just goin’ to the pub, love.”

“Okay,” you mumble, reaching into the back of your closet to pull the little shirt out, “If you’re sure this will be okay.”

“I’m sure,” he chuckles softly, grabbing his balaclava off the dresser. But he doesn’t put it on yet. Instead, he sits on the bed and watches you change.

You’re acutely aware of his eyes on you as you strip your shirt off. You keep your back to him, trying to ignore your racing heart. You don’t feel uncomfortable at all, instead you feel…excited.

Your mind runs wild, imagining him stepping up behind you, kissing your neck and cupping your bare breasts in his big hands. They’re a little rough from his line of work and you wonder what they’d feel like against the sensitive skin of your tits, thumbing your nipples and pinching them a little meanly.

“C-Can you hand me a bra?” you find yourself asking.

He grunts in acknowledgement and the bed creaks when his weight moves off it. He opens one of the drawers and is behind you in a second. His body heat permeates through his shirt as he presses his chest against your back.

He slings your bra over your shoulder, holding it with one finger by the strap. You can’t help but tilt your head back to look up at him. He’s towering over you, pretty, brown eyes looking down his nose at you.

You realize in this position, he could clearly see your breasts but he keeps his eyes on yours. You take the bra from him and he lets you, simply staring into your eyes with that stern silence he has about him.

“T-Thanks…” you find yourself whispering, mouth feeling particularly dry.

He grunts, lips quirked up just a bit before he turns his back and walks back to the bed. You let out a quiet, slow breath, willing your heart rate to go back to normal.

Simon was so exhilarating. Just being around him sets your heart racing and fingers trembling.

You put your bra on and slip your top over your head, ignoring the sticky feeling in your panties as you do.

“I don’t know, Si,” you mutter, turning to face him, “I-It’s a little tight on me now.”

The fabric once hugged you nicely but now it was snug. It molded around your breasts, even showing the lines of your bra. The neckline was low, giving a good show of cleavage – it didn’t help that Simon picked one of your more well padded bras.

Simon looks up, his eyes immediately falling to your breasts. He sucks in a quick breath and looks away, licking his lips.

“Looks fine,” he mutters, standing to pull one of the drawers open again. He searches for a second, brows furrowed until he pulls out the jeans he was talking about. The ‘nice jeans’ as he called them, were just some low rise jeans you’d only worn about 4 times.

You look dumbly at them as he drops them into your hands.

“These?” you scoff, “Simon, I can’t–”

He quiets you with a kiss to your forehead, “Trust me, love.”

He steps out of the room after that, leaving you to your own devices. You’re thankful that you can change your panties without him seeing how saturated and sticky they’ve become because of him. You bury them in the laundry basket and remind yourself that you should do the laundry before he does because you’d be mortified if he found them.

You don’t even look at yourself in the mirror, afraid you’ll feel too self-conscious if you see what you look like. But you trust Simon’s judgment on what he thinks would look good on you – and you can’t deny that dressing up how he likes feels nice.

You step into the living room, intent on pulling your shoes on when Simon catches you with an arm around your waist. You gasp as he turns you to face him.

“You look lovely,” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your sides, thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt to stroke your skin.

You swallow thickly as your heart starts racing in your chest again. He leans down and pecks your lips but pulls back before you have the chance to kiss back.

“Let’s go,” is all he adds before walking away, leaving you no choice but to follow like the lovesick puppy you are.

Walking into the bar, your heart pounds painfully in your chest from pure anxiety. Your hand is clasped tightly in Simon’s as he easily moves through the crowd. You suppose his height makes it easy to see over people.

“You alright?” he asks, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Haven’t been in a bar since I worked at…” you trail off, giving him a half-hearted shrug.

“If you wanna leave, just say the word,” he mutters, giving your hand a squeeze.

“N-No,” you shake your head, shooting him a wobbly smile,”I wanna meet your team at least.”

He smiles reassuringly and gives your hand a tug to encourage you to follow him. He leads you right to a table situated in a corner, three men laughing and drinking.

“There he is!” the one with the mohawk cheeks, holding up his pint in celebration.

“Shut up, Soap,” Simon grumbles petulantly as he pulls out a chair for you.

Soap, you note to yourself. You know them by name but you’ve never actually seen the faces to put to them. Soap looks like you imagined, a broad grin and pretty, bright eyes – you imagined them green but they’re blue.

“And who is this lovely companion of yours, Simon?” an older man with a hat and mutton chops asks with a kind smile, eyes on you.

Simon says your name before he sits down with a grunt beside you.

“Price,” your boyfriend supplies when you look curiously at him.

The man in question holds out a hand which you take and softly shake, “Nice to meet you.”

“Had no idea Lt. had someone waitin’ for him at home,” Soap says, a teasing lilt in his voice.

So you’ve met Soap, Price, and that leaves; your eyes land on the quiet guy sitting back in his chair, a cool smile on his lips. He meets your gaze and his smile broadens – not teasing like Soap’s but purely kind.

“You can call me Kyle,” he gives you a polite nod.

“Gaz, then?” you question, tilting your head to the side. Kyle looks surprised, eyes flicking to Simon who shifts uncomfortably in his chair, “He’s talked about all of you before. I only know your call signs though.”

“John will do fine if you’d like,” Price says, tipping his beer back to take a chug.

“Simon calls me Johnny,” Soap adds, “You’re welcome to as well. Anyone important to the Lieutenant is important to us.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Simon roll his eyes. It makes you smile. He leans over, nudging you with his knee, “You want anything to drink? I need one.”

“No thank you, Si,” you reply, intent on having a clear head for the night. You’ve never been much of a drinker anyway.

When Simon’s gone from the table, you suddenly feel incredibly out of place. Price and Kyle have the decency to not stare you down but Soap seems keen on keeping his baby blue’s right on you and a goofy little smile on his face.

“Um…” you shift uncomfortably as you look back at him.

“We’ve never gotten to meet anyone from Ghost’s private life before,” Soap says, saving you from having to think of what to say, “Just shocked s’all.”

“You’re gonna start giving the poor thing the creeps with your ugly mug,” Kyle chuckles which also makes Soap laugh.

“Sorry about that,” Soap lifts his glass and cheers to you before tipping it back.

He grimaces slightly as it goes down before slamming his glass back on the table.

“It’s alright,” you respond, “Si’s not really the open book kind. So I understand.”

“How long have the two of you known each other?” Kyle asks.

You find yourself wondering where the hell Simon even is but answer regardless, “Since we were kids. Um, we lived next door. His mom and mine were friends, I guess.”

Soap nods his head, elbows on the table as he gives you his full attention, “You guess?”

You hum, “I’m 3 years younger than Simon. The way it was told to me by my mom is that…his mom came over and,” you couldn’t fight back the smile as you recalled the story.

“Oh this has got to be good,” Soap nudged Kyle excitedly at your grin.

“Told my mom that Simon didn’t have any friends and that he was a…soft-hearted boy and she wanted him to have some friends,” you giggle, holding a hand in front of your face to hide your laughter, “So she wanted to set up playdates with me even though I was still a baby. My mom didn’t have the heart to tell her no.”

Soap tosses his head back and laughs, “No fuckin’ way.”

“I’m shocked to say it but that actually makes him sound cute,” Kyle adds, unable to hide the laughter in his voice either.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Price says, but there’s a smile on his face, “Simon’ll knock you out cold on this table.”

“So you and Simon have been together since?” Kyle asks, glass cupped in both hands.

You nod, “Only time we’ve been apart is when he enlisted and had to go off for a few years to train.”

Soap opens his mouth to say something but a large figure finally drops down into the seat next to you. Simon has a glass of bourbon and a glass that he slides over to Soap who catches it with ease.

“Thanks, Lt,” he nods, taking a sip before making that disgusted face again.

“What are you lot talkin’ about?” Simon asks, drumming his fingers against his glass.

“We were discussin’ all your dirty secrets,” Kyle teases with a charming grin.

“Nothin’ too damning I hope,” Simon huffs before he takes a large gulp of his drink.

The other three men all hide their grins behind their glasses.

The anxiety you had felt at the beginning of the night is long gone. The task force is full of jokes and laughs and even Simon seems like a different person.

With you, he’s kind and even soft. He’s by no means gentle or patient.

But this side of Simon is so jovial and comfortable that it warms your heart to see. He drinks a few glasses and by the end of the night, he’s got a relaxed, lidded look in his eyes that lets you know he’s got a bit of a buzz going on.

“It was lovely to meet you,” Price says when you all walk out of the bar.

“I really enjoyed meeting all of you as well,” you smile, letting Simon tuck you into his side with an arm wrapped around your waist.

“Get him home safe,” Soap teases, your smile only widening when you hear Simon huff in annoyance.

You bid goodbye to the three of them and make your way to the car with Simon, plucking his keys out of his hand and forcing him into the passenger seat despite his grumbled protests of how ‘he’s not that drunk’.

When the two of you finally get into your apartment, you let him lock up and turn out the lights while you go to the bedroom and get ready for bed.

“You looked really nice tonight,” Simon mutters when he finally walks in as you crawl into bed, “I’m glad you liked them.”

“I’m glad they liked me,” you huff, leaning back into the pillows, “They were all really nice guys.”

“Yeah,” Simon hums, tugging his shirt off of his head, taking his mask with it, “They’re good people.”

You nod your head and tuck your knees to your chest while he gets undressed. He slips on a plaid pair of pajama pants and shoves the drawer closed with his hip before yanking the blanket back to make room for his large body.

You bounce a little on the bed when he drops his weight onto it. He smacks his pillow a couple times before he lays back and sighs. It’s clear he’s still a little buzzed from the way he fights to keep his eyes open.

“Simon?” you ask, turning to face him.

That makes his eyes open back up before he looks at you, “What?”

“Can I kiss you?” you ask.

He snorts and it makes you smile. He reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of your head. You let him tug you down, pressing your hands against his firm chest as you kiss him.

His hand travels down your back as he sighs into your mouth. You pull away briefly to look into his eyes before you kiss him again, this time deepening it as much as you’re able. Simon sighs contentedly, his other hand coming up to caress your arm.

“I like kissin’ you…” you find yourself whispering against his lips.

He groans at that, the sound going straight to your core. You feel yourself clench around nothing, already starting to leak into your panties.

“Yeah?” he coos, cupping your cheek, thumbing over your lips, “You can kiss me all you want, love.”

You whimper, surging down to kiss him again. His hands grip your waist, intermittently squeezing you, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Suddenly, you feel the warm, slick slide of his tongue against your lips. You whimper and pull back, brows furrowed.

“Shh, love,” he coos, pulling you close again, “Jus’ relax and let me…”

You huff, struggling to catch your breath as he urges you to meet his lips again. You feel his tongue again and eagerly open your mouth, letting him taste the inside of your mouth. You shyly meet his tongue with yours and feel his grip on your waist tighten as he groans in his throat.

You’re sure you’ve soaked well through your panties by now. There’s an ache in your clit that you long to reach down and relieve – or better yet, have Simon relieve.

You bet his fingers would feel so damn good against you. You find yourself whimpering into the kiss at the thought alone. Simon lets out a husky laugh into your mouth before pulling away.

A string of spit connects your lips before it breaks and vanishes.

With a surge of confidence, you toss your leg over his waist. He grunts when your weight settles on his hips, on his cock. It’s chubbed up against his thigh from kissing you and he knows you can feel it.

“What’re you doin’, baby?” he huffs, unable to stop his hands from traveling up the front of your body.

You grab his wrist and boldly slide it under the hem of your shirt. He bites his lip to keep from moaning when he feels your bare breast fill his palm. You see the way his eyes start to roll back before he looks at you again. It makes you throb in your panties and you can’t resist grinding against him a little before he grabs your waist and stops you.

“Si…” you whimper, pressing your hands against his chest, “‘S wrong?”

“Can’t,” he clears his throat and sinks into the bed, “Can’t do this, love.”

“Why not?” you ask, feeling a pit of disappointment in your gut, “You don’t want to? I just thought…”

You feel your face burn with humiliation as you slide off of his lap. Simon lets you, simply laying there on his back, eyes closed and a knit between his brows, as he evens his breathing out. You fight back tears as you sit there, biting the inside of your lip anxiously.

“Not…not tonight, sweetheart,” he finally says, reaching over to pet your hair, “Been drinkin’ ‘nd I want to be sober for it, yeah?”

It would have been a solid excuse if it didn’t sound so flimsy coming from his lips. Like he doesn’t even believe it himself.

“Yeah…” you offer, giving him a wobbly smile before turning out the light.

You’re too embarrassed to cuddle into him that night.

“Can I ask you something?” you find yourself muttering as you relax on the couch with him, watching some old movie he picked out, “As long as you promise not to get mad.”

He snorts, taking a sip of his tea, “Won’t get mad.”

“I just want to know…” you clear your throat and sit up straight a little more, going over the question in your head, “Why did you leave that night…leave like that, just to have sex?”

He tenses up immediately, you can feel it. He shifts where he sits, spreading his legs just a little wider so he can sink deeper into the couch, “We already talked about this.”

You wince at his clipped tone, knowing you’re stepping into dangerous territory, “I know but…I want to know the real reason.”

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and sighs, keeping his eyes trained on the TV, “You think I was lyin’ to you?”

Now he sounds mad. You quickly shake your head, “No, Si. I-I’m not trying to start a fight, I swear. I don’t think you were lying. I just think you…weren’t telling me everything.”

He sighs. You can see the way his jaw ticks when he clenches it, “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, scooting a little closer to him, placing your hands on his chest, smoothing his shirt down a bit, “It was just…out of character for you, Si. I was really upset and you knew that. It wasn’t like you to just…leave. Just to get laid.”

He finally looks at you, just out of the corner of his eye. You meet the look, offering him an encouraging smile to show that you’re not upset or anything.

“All night,” he finally mutters, “You’d been kickin’ in your sleep. Kept wakin’ me up.”

You nodded, a look of confusion on your face. You had no idea where this was going.

“You started sayin’ my name,'' he continued, “Moanin’ my name. Fuck, it was drivin’ me crazy.”

Your face flushes hot when you hear that. It all suddenly comes rushing back to you – what you’d been dreaming about.

“You threw your leg over mine and I could–” he cuts himself off, his throat moving with how hard he swallows.

“Could what?” your voice comes out shockingly breathy.

He catches it, looking at you. You can see the way his pupils widen immediately when he meets your gaze. It’s like he can see right through you, see the fact you’re dripping into your panties again. Just from this conversation alone.

“I could feel how fuckin’ wet you were,” he brings a shaky hand up and runs it through his hair before he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Couldn’t fuckin’ deal with it. I had to…let it out somehow.”

“So you knew that I wanted you…like that?” you find yourself asking.

He scoffs and shakes his head, “Didn’t think about it like that. Figured it was just a dream and that’s all it was.”

“Wasn’t just a dream,” you assure, scooting closer to him.

Simon’s breath catches in his throat when you lean over him, resting your hand on the arm rest on his other side, letting it support your weight. You stand on your knees, making you just a little taller than him before you lean down and kiss him.

He remains completely still, like he’s processing. His hands flounder in the air for a second before he’s carefully pushing you to sit back down. You slump against your heels and look at him, perturbed.

“Why..?”

“I need to make dinner,” he says lamely.

“Simon…” you admonish, knowing he’s lying.

He gets up, knees cracking as he does. He winces a little bit before he bends down to pick up the blanket that fell to the floor when he stood. You kept your eyes on him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You almost let him go but before you can stop him, you grab his arm.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Simon,” you mutter, “I keep trying to make things go further with you but I just keep making a fool of myself and I–”

“‘S not you,” he assures softly, taking your hand in his, “‘S all me, baby.”

“So why…” you frown, “I want you.”

He shakes his head, “Night you told me how you felt. You sounded scared.”

You remember, the way his touch had made anxiety fill you. You had wanted him, of course, but for some reason it had just been so damn awful at the same time. You hadn’t really dwelled on why that was.

“It wasn’t ‘cause of you, Si,” you assured, shifting so your feet were on the floor rather than under you, “I promise. I-I was just nervous, I think. That’s all.”

“I don’t want…” he licks his lips, seemingly thinking over his next words carefully before he says them slowly, “I don’t to hear you sound like that with me again. ‘S why I’ve been avoidin’ it. ‘Cause I don’t want you to get scared again.”

You shake your head, rising to your feet, stepping in front of him. You take his hands in yours and squeeze them, “I don’t want to make a fool of myself with you, Simon.”

He frowns, “You know I would never think poorly of you.”

You smile and shrug, “I know that. I think…that time was just…too soon. After that night at the bar and everything that happened. And then the fact I’m so inexperienced that it’s laughable. I think…I just wasn’t ready for it. I needed to go at my own pace and I have been.”

“I don’t want you to push yourself,” he hums, “I know that night at the bar was terrifying,” he brings a hand up to brush over your cheek, “I understand if you’re not goin’ to be ready for a long time. It’s normal to not be ready after what happened to you.”

You huff, “I’ve been trying to show you that I’ve been ready for a while now, Si. I was anxious at first, yes. But now it’s…like a good kind of nervous.”

“A good kind of nervous?” he mutters, hands moving to your hips to pull you closer. Your breath hitches in your throat and you nod dumbly, “Tell me all about it.”

“L-Like my heart races,” you breathe, “And I feel scared that I’m gonna do something silly and embarrassing but like I want to learn and…and I want to do good for you.”

“Fuck,” Simon groans, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder, “Can’t say shit like that to a man like me, love.”

“Why not?” you whimper, feeling your knees tremble in excitement when you feel his hands start to wander.

“‘Cause…” he whispers, running his hands up your sides, “Makes me think some nasty shit, sweetheart.”

You swallow thickly at the promise in his voice, “Simon…”

You sound so wrecked already and it makes him moan softly in your ear, “Tell me about it, baby.”

Just like that, you’re spilling your guts to him, “Get so wet for you, Si, all the time. I want you so bad that it hurts.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, finally pulling his head from where he was hiding in your shoulder, tilting your chin up, “Where’s it hurt, baby? Hm? Right in that needy little cunt?”

You whimper immediately, looking up at him with wide, hazy eyes and nod, “T-Tried to touch myself. Thinkin’ about you made it hurt so I couldn’t help myself. Thought about you when I did.”

He hums as you babble to him but his mind latches onto one particular word, “Tried, baby? What do you mean "tried?”

Your cheeks burn hot at the slip up. Would he think you were silly for it?

“C-Can’t do it right,” you confess softly, hoping he doesn’t see how embarrassed you are, “Try so hard but n-nothin’ ever happens.”

Simon moans at that. Loud and unbridled, “What’re you sayin’, baby? That you can’t make yourself cum, s’that it?” You shake your head bashfully, “Fuckin’ hell. That’s adorable.”

“D-Don’t tease me, Si,” you whimper but the seat of your panties is so fucking wet that it’s sticking to you.

He hums, a predatory smile spreads across his face, “Am I bein’ mean, love?” You nod your head, tearfully staring up at him. It only makes his smile widen, canines popping out, “‘M sorry. Can’t help myself when you tell me ‘bout how you touch your pretty little pussy and just can’t make yourself cum like you need. Think I can do it for you, hm? Want me to try and make you cum?”

You vigorously nod your head, uncaring how fucking needy you look to him. He’s offering to give you what you’ve wanted for years – to give you a real, honest to God orgasm. And you weren’t going to let this chance slip away.

“Want you on the bed,” he suddenly whispers, “On your back, lose the pants but keep everything else on.”

With a jerk of his head in the direction of the bedroom, you take off. You hear him chuckle behind you at your excitement. He makes sure the door is locked before he heads back to the bedroom.

You’re there just like he asked, pants pooled on the floor, leaving you in nothing but an old t-shirt of his and a pair of the cutest little lilac colored panties he’s seen. You’ve got your knees pinned together, clenching your thighs but laying perfectly still in waiting for him.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he praises, grinning when you whimper and tremble at his words, “Oh, sweet thing likes to be praised, huh?”

You nod your head, “Wanna be good for you, Si.”

“That’s sweet, baby,” he coos, reaching to the back of his collar so he can tug his shirt off of his head.

Your heart hammers away in your chest when he crawls onto the bed, hands on either side of your head. He looks so big like this, on top of you, completely blocking any view you had of your ceiling and instead filling your viewline with just him. He leans down and kisses you, humming contentedly when you eagerly kiss back. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as he uses one hand to tug your legs open so he can slot himself between them.

You cry out when he presses himself against your core. He’s wearing nothing but his jeans but you can feel the heat radiating through the thick material.

“Shit, look at that,” he whispers, leaning back on his heels to admire the nice little wet patch that has stained your panties, “You already this wet, baby?”

“Kissin’ you always makes me this wet, Si,” you sweetly confess and oh, you are just so precious.

His hands slide up your stomach, moving your t-shirt up and up until it sits crumpled under your chin. Your tits are bare and move with every gasping breath that you take.

Simon’s hands are just as rough and warm as you’d expect them to be. His thumbs come up and glide over your nipples until they harden into stiff little peaks for him.

Then his mouth is wrapping around one, swirling his tongue around it before pulling off with a lewd pop. His hand pinches the other nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he listens to you whimper and sigh.

“Please, Si,” you whine, “I-It hurts, please.”

“It hurts?” he hums, leaving a fleeting kiss against the nipple his tongue was torturing just a moment ago, “Where? Hm?”

His hand travels down your body, cupping your cunt through your panties. You gasp, arching your hips just a bit to grind against his palm. He lets you, before he meanly pins your hips down with his other hand.

“Where, love?” he smooths the pad of his thumb over the seam of your cunt through your panties. The fabric is saturated with your slick, letting him see every part of you through shape alone. His thumb finds your clit, the little bud poking out through the fabric from how hard and swollen it's become, “Here? ‘S it your pretty clit that hurts, love?”

You nod, eyes rolling back in your head when he presses his thumb against the bud, trapping it under his finger so he can roll mean little circles over it. You’d be mindlessly rutting your hips by now if he didn’t have his other arm slung over your hips to keep you pinned nice and still like he wants.

It already feels so different than when you touched yourself. Maybe because it’s him or maybe because he’s so experienced.

That thought makes you equal parts jealous and equal parts turned on. He’d slept with plenty of people but now he was using that expertise to make you feel good.

“Can you take them off, please?” you whine, pitchy and sweet from arousal.

“Asked so sweetly for me,” he coos, hitching his thumbs into the band of your panties before giving them a firm tug.

You quickly lift your hips, letting him tug them down and off of your feet. You expect him to toss them away but instead he holds them up, thumbing over the slickness in the crotch. You watch him with wide eyes as he analyzes it. Your breath hitches when he suddenly brings them towards his face and licks a wide stripe of the fabric, moaning when he gets a good laste of your syrupy sweet slick.

“Simon!” you gasp – admonish, leaning up to snatch them out of his grasp.

His eyes open, he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them, to look at you. He licks his lips like a dog licking its chops when it tastes something real delicious.

He doesn’t even comment on what he just did or the pure embarrassment that is written all over your face. Instead, he grips underneath your knees and yanks you down the bed towards him so your hips are situated in his lap.

“Jus’ let me touch you, love,” he whispers, “I’ll work a nice little orgasm out of you in no time, yeah?”

You nod your head because you trust him. You know he’s going to be able to give you what you need so badly. You don’t even question it – especially when you feel how good it feels when he uses his thumbs to spread your folds open for him. He groans when he sees the sticky strings of slick that display just how turned on you are.

Pretty little hole clenching sporadically around nothing, dribbling more creamy arousal that makes his tongue feel like lead in his mouth. A pretty clit that twitches and throbs under his scrutinizing gaze. But you make no move to cover yourself and hide from his gaze.

He finally touches the bud directly and it’s like electricity strikes through you. You lose control of your body as your back arches and your thighs violently twitch. Your cheeks burn when you hear him chuckle softly at your reaction.

“Sensitive,” he huffs, a crooked little grin on his face as he brushes his thumb over your clit again, garnering the same reaction as before from you, “Fuck, can’t believe you’re this sensitive and can’t make yourself cum.”

“‘S cause it’s you, Si,” you sweetly confess.

And it’s true. Having him touch you like this directly – feeling his callused skin over the most sensitive little part of you is euphoric. It doesn’t feel anything like when you touch yourself at all. It feels magnified, you feel like a live wire and everything feels like too much. But you don’t do anything to impede him because you trust him more than anything – especially like this, with your body.

He replaced his thumb with his middle finger, prodding at your entrance. You almost think he’s going to press inside you but he doesn’t – instead, he gathers your slick up on his finger and drags it up to your clit. He softly circles the bud, cock kicking against his thigh when you sigh and croon so sweetly for him.

Your cunt makes sticky noises as he continues doing this, gathering your arousal and lathering your precious bud up with it so he can so softly play with it. His touches aren’t enough to actually work you to the edge, it’s much too slow and soft but it feels good. He waits for you to relax against the bed, lashes fluttering as you whimper and twitch on the bed for him.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss against your trembling thigh, “Relax f’me. Want you nice and soft for me so I can get my fingers in this tight little cunt.”

You gasp at that, partly in excitement and also in apprehension. You’ve never actually put anything inside yourself before – except once, you put your finger in and it burned so you never tried it again.

“D-Dont…” you find yourself muttering, making him freeze. He thinks you’ve changed your mind, anxiety getting the better of you and he’s fully prepared to propel himself away from you at a moment's notice, “Be gentle, okay?”

His gaze softens when he looks at you, “Won’t hurt you, love. I promise.”

You remain relaxed for him when he carefully prods you with his middle finger. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, not rubbing it or anything, just keeping a nice pressure that keeps you sagged against the pillows.

It doesn’t feel anything like when you tried that one time with yourself. Everything is so much wetter and more pliant. It’s like your walls just suck the digit in, even though it’s so much bigger than your own finger.

You sigh softly when you finally have something to clench around. Simon gives you a sweet kiss to the spot right underneath your belly button in silent praise. He keeps his lidded, brown eyes on your face, watching every little expression you make with rapt attention.

He slowly and carefully fucks his middle finger into you, feeling the way you slowly relax around him, soaking his skin with your arousal. He smooths his free hand up the length of your body, abandoning your clit to wrap his palm around your breast. You place your own hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder.

“How’s that feel, love?” he asks, still sliding his finger in and out of you.

“Okay…” you reply, keeping your hand over his on your chest, “But it…um…”

“What?” he urges, “Tell me what you feel.”

“I-It feels nice but…” you trail off and he hums, nodding his head.

“Doesn’t feel good?” he finishes for you. You nod your head and he laughs softly, “I know, baby. Jus’ tryin’ to get you used to the feeling and then I’ll make it feel real good, alright?”

“Okay,” you whisper but he can tell you’re not too convinced that it’s going to feel much better.

You’re worried that the same thing is going to happen – it’ll feel really good and then you’re never going to be able to climb over that wall. You hate to imagine disappointing him, failing to get off. You’d hate for him to put all this work in and you just can’t cum in the end.

“Hey,” he coos, “Get out of your head, pretty. Don’t worry about a thing, alright?”

You take a deep breath and slowly let it out, allowing yourself to relax against the bed again. Simon waits for you to be nice and pliant around his finger before he starts to fit his ring finger alongside it. He catches sight of the furrow in your brow when he stretches you around two of his fingers. It burns but when Simon brings his thumb back to your clit, tapping against the bud, it vanishes. Your thighs twitch and you whimper, walls clenching in time with the little taps until the burning vanishes completely.

“There we are,” he praises, “Knew you could do it, sweetheart.”

“A-Are you gonna add another?” you find yourself asking.

“Later,” he responds, scissoring the two fingers he has snug inside your cunt, “‘M a big man, love. Gonna need you nice and stretched for me.”

You whimper at that, walls clenching around his fingers as he slowly begins to fuck them in and out of you. Your cheeks burn when you hear the loud, squishing noises your hole makes every time he stuffs them back inside.

After a moment of just getting you used to being stretched on two of his thick digits, he suddenly crooks them up and hits something inside you that makes your back arch. It causes a tingling feeling that you’ve never experienced to heat your tummy every time he touches it.

“Simon!” you squeal, trying to clench your thighs closed but his broad shoulders keep them open, “Th-That feels-!”

“I know, baby,” he coos cockily, grinding his fingertips against that little spot that makes you so gooey and creamy around his fingers, “Feels real good right there, I know.”

Your back arches and your jaw drops. You can’t do anything but moan and cry out as he fucks against that spot. He’s urged on by your sounds of pure pleasure, eyes flicking between where he’s got your pretty cunt spread open and the euphoric expressions you can’t do anything to hide.

It’s so precious, seeing you so open and loud for him. You don’t do anything to hide your sounds of pleasure nor do you even think of faking any of them for his sake. Every little thing you’re feeling, you express, and you can’t help yourself because it’s all so new and so much.

That hot, tingling feeling in your core only intensifies with every experienced stroke of his fingers. Your eyes are rolling back every time he touches that magnificent spot inside you, abusing it with his fingers until your walls are soft and malleable for him again.

And then he brings his index finger into it. He’s even more slow and careful as he fits it in beside the other two fingers. It doesn’t burn like when he had given you his second finger but it’s a certain stretch that simply feels strange.

He gets you stuffed open on his three fingers, up to the third knuckle. You’re spread so wide and squeeze his fingers so tight that it makes him moan when he thinks about what it will feel like around his cock.

If you’re this tight around just his fingers then you’re going to feel positively euphoric around him.

“Simon…” you coo, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair.

He grunts in acknowledgement, but is unwilling to part his gaze from the sight of the creamy mess you’ve begun to leave on his fingers. Your pretty clit is twitching and so swollen, glistening from your juices and he suddenly has the inescapable desire to wrap his mouth around it.

You’re not even looking when he decides to do it. It’s like he can’t stop himself.

All you feel is something wet and hot wrap around the little bud. You practically wail at the feeling of his tongue sliding against it. Your feet kick aimlessly, hitting his back and shoulders as you flail beneath his body.

You sob his name, yanking harshly on his hair in a way that hurts but he’s not going to stop you. He knows it’s mean to do this, not even warning you or easing you into the feeling before he’s suckling your clit. His tongue slips in circles around it, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. His ears practically ring from how loud you’re crying out for him.

His three fingers remain buried inside you but he’s hardly able to move them from how tight you’re squeezing them. All he can do is grind his fingers against your g-spot but it only makes your pretty body more twitchy and makes you squirm even more beneath him. He has to hold you down so you can’t get away.

He doesn’t want your precious pussy to be ripped away from him, your juices are making his taste buds tingle – you taste so damn good.

That familiar heat begins to grow in your core – one you’ve experienced many times before by yourself. You cry and wail for him, sobbing his name and gripping his hair.

“S-Si, don’t stop, please, please, please–” you choke on your own cries, slamming your head into the pillows as your back arches painfully hard.

He grunts lowly, blonde lashes fluttering as he watches your body’s pure, unfiltered reactions to this pleasure. He knows you’re getting close, can feel you clenching around him and your clit pulsing on his tongue in time with your heartbeat.

You feel yourself reaching that wall, the one you can never overcome. But it feels different this time, the pleasure isn’t slowing. It’s not fading like it always does when you’ve got your own fingers on your bud.

It always seems to slip out of your grasp by this point.

This is it, you think. You’re going to cum. You’re finally going to fucking cum.

Then everything stops.

His tongue is gone from your clit and his fingers are nowhere to be found. Simon’s shoulders rise and fall as he watches your face flicker through a range of emotions before your eyes fill with tears and you look at him – utterly pitiful and hopeless.

“Wh-Why…” you finally whisper, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth.

Your cunt pulses and throbs around nothing, the heat of your orgasm quickly dissipating, leaving that horribly empty and unsatisfying feeling in its wake.

“Sorry, baby,” he coos, genuine and soft as he leans up to kiss your face, “That was mean, huh? ‘M sorry. Jus’ want you to have your first orgasm on a cock, love.”

That doesn’t do anything to quell your disappointment but you nod anyway, wiping away some stray tears that trickle from your eyes.

“Please,” you breathlessly whisper, “Please, Simon. Want your cock, please. I-I was so close. It felt so good,” you start babbling, eyes falling to the hard outline of his cock in his jeans, “I wanna cum so bad, Si. Y-You promised. Please, just give me your cock. Please? Please? Simon!”

Simon’s mouth goes dry as he hears your babbled begging. Fuck, you’re absolutely aching for it. All you can think about is cumming. He never thought he’d get to hear you beg for him like this, so pathetically. You should be embarrassed, begging for cock like this when you’ve only just now gotten your first taste of being stretched open. Yet here you are fuckin’ crying for it.

His cock drools pre down his thigh, he can feel how wet his boxers have become from how much he’s leaking it. He’s aching in his jeans – he can’t pretend he doesn’t want it just as badly as you do.

“Shit, alright!” he snarls, wrapping a hand around your throat to force you to look at him. You gasp at the rough treatment, “Jus’ shut up and I’ll give it to you, yeah?”

You obediently nod your head, still staring up at him with those wide, teary eyes. He tries to act like his hands aren’t fucking trembling when he yanks his belt off. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this needy – this excited to get his cock inside a pussy.

But it’s you. You’re special.

He loves you. This isn’t like the one night stands and hookups he’s had in the past. This is different.

He feels like a fumbling teenager the way he clumsily yanks his belt out of the loops and shoves his jeans down his thighs along with his underwear. His cock, big and heavy, hangs under its own weight – it never slaps up against his stomach. He wasn’t just chatting shit when he said he was a big guy.

He wrapped his hand around himself, giving it a few, firm tugs. He feels your eyes on him, watching the way he touches himself and it sends heat through him. He scoots closer to you again, pulling back his foreskin to show the fat, leaky head that he meanly taps against your clit.

You gasp a cute little ‘ah!’ when he does that brings a smile to his face. He can’t say he’s the best lay for a virgin because he’s so big and he’s a brute – it’s in his nature. But he’s trying his best for you.

“Alright, baby,” he coos, leaning on one forearm above your head, draping his big body over yours. He easily manhandles you into position, caging your knees against your chest and wrapping himself around you, “Just relax for me, hm? Can you do that f’me?”

You nod your head and shakily put your hands on his shoulders, cupping his jaw to bring him down to kiss you. He sighs into your lips, using his free hang to grip the base of his cock, prodding against your hole. You’re so slippery that it slides out of you and slips up your clit. You whimper at the feeling, thighs twitching at the stimulation.

When he finally starts to press inside, your nails bite into his shoulders. It stings – it hurts. He’s so big, making your poor little cunt burn the deeper he presses himself. The head pops in and your hips jump at the feeling, his cock slipping back out.

He huffs, dropping his forehead against your shoulder, “Fuck, sit still.”

“S-Sorry!” you whimper, “I’m sorry!”

“Shh,” he sighs, kissing your cheek, “‘S okay, baby. Hurts, huh?”

“A little,” you whimper, trying to downplay it so he won’t stop.

He hums and presses a kiss against the corner of your mouth. He knows that working an orgasm out of you before making you take his cock would be the nice thing to do but he’s selfish. He wants to feel your orgasm around his cock – where you deserve to have it.

It’s your very first orgasm after all. It needs to be good and he knows he can make it real good once he can get you speared on his cock.

So he grips himself again, sitting up for just a moment to lewdly spit on your pussy. It hits your clit and trickles down where he catches it with the head of his cock. He leans over your body and starts to push in again. This time he tucks his arms under your shoulders and pins you impossibly against him, leaving you with nowhere to run when he starts to press into you.

You whimper, feet kicking against his back when he pushes deeper than before – past the head. He knows it hurts, you’re stretched beyond your limit and he waits with bated breath for you to say the word and tell him to stop.

But you don’t.

You just grapple your arms around his waist and dig your nails in. His skin is sweaty by now and it makes getting any purchase on him difficult. You let out a watery little whimper that has him freezing. You’re speared on half his cock when he finally looks at you.

Your eyes are teary and they slowly drip down your cheeks.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks, brushing some away with his thumb.

You immediately shake your head, no hesitation, “No! K-Keep goin’, Si.”

“Don’t cry, pretty,” he shushes, keeping his grip under your shoulders and his hips pinned firmly against yours so you can’t squirm when he starts pressing in again. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp, eyes fluttering from the ache that settles where he’s stretching you wide, “‘S okay, just take a deep breath. ‘M almost in, love, you’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me. Takin’ all of my cock so deep, just like you deserve. Hear me? This cock s’all yours now, yeah? Can have it whenever you need it.”

Your walls spasm around his cock as he talks, making him groan low in his chest. He’s almost there, can feel his balls starting to tap against you the deeper he gets until finally, his hips meet yours and you wail.

He prods painfully against your cervix and he knows that it’s uncomfortable but he’s not willing to pull back just yet. He needs you to get used to being stretched and stuffed full of every inch of him. He takes care to do slow, gentle grinds, his pelvis catching your clit that eventually makes you relax.

“That’s it,” he praises, “Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

He finally eases off of you, balancing his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, hovering over you. He slowly pulls his hips back, watching you slump against the bed when he finally stops pressing on your cervix.

He finally starts fucking you, sliding his cock out just a bit before rolling his hips forward again. It's slow and soft, just testing the waters and getting you used to this new stimulation.

It feels entirely different from his fingers. His cock is bigger, fills you so much more, touches deeper.

His cock reaches spots deep inside you that his fingers didn’t even reach. But he’s permanently pressing against that spot his fingers were torturing. It feels so fucking good.

Simon can see the way your eyes roll back as he carefully fucks you. Your first cock and you’re taking it so damn well. It makes him want to see how much more you can take but he knows he needs to ease you into it, he doesn't want to overwhelm you.

“Si…” you sigh softly, blinking as you struggle not to float off and become drunk with pleasure.

“I know, pretty,” he coos, kissing your cheek before leaning back on his heels, fastening the thrusts of his hips.

You can’t keep quiet now, mouth falling open to let out the most precious sounds of pure pleasure. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, like he’s hung the moon and stars in the sky just for you. His cock fucking throbs at the look of wonder that crosses your face. He knows you’re getting close, can feel how tight you’re clamping around him and he can see how much you’re creaming around him – making a mess at the base of his cock and in the thatch of curls there.

“You gonna cum?” he coos, grinning when you shake your head, “Of course you are. I can fuckin’ feel it, baby. Know you got one for me, go ahead. Cum on my cock real nice, c’mon.”

“C-Can’t,” you whimper. It’s too much. You’re so wet. It’s fucking messy but you feel yourself at that damn wall, hanging on a thread and waiting for euphoria to come but it doesn’t, “Please! Simon! Please, I-I can’t! Please, please, please…”

“Fuck,” his hisses when he hears you begging to cum on his cock, “Come on then, baby. You can do it. Just let it go, let me fuck it outta you.”

You toss your head back into the pillows as a sob is ripped from your chest. As if he can sense how much you’re struggling, he brings his thumb down to press against your clit. Your eyes fucking roll, only the whites of them visible. You clench down around him like a vice and it only takes a couple little swipes of his thumb for you to tumble over the edge.

It feels unlike anything you could have ever imagined. Pleasure soars through you and your hearing cuts out. It feels like you lose control of your body, unable to do anything but thrash and twitch as he fucks you through it. You’re not sure if you would prefer him to stop or keep going because it’s all so fucking much that it hurts.

You’re gushing around him, drenching his cock in sticky, creamy cum that drips in thick strings down his balls. Holy fuck.

It feels like hours that you’re speared on his cock, cumming and cumming before it finally leaves you and you collapse against the bed. You’re still twitching, entire body shivering until he finally slows his thrusts to soft little rolls of his hips. He takes his thumb off of your clit and you’re thankful because it was starting to become unpleasant.

You swallow despite how dry your mouth is, eyes finally focusing on him. His brows are furrowed and his bottom lip is tucked into his mouth. Pretty, brown eyes are locked on you and you suddenly feel shy.

Had he been watching you the whole time? You hoped you didn’t make any ugly faces or embarrassing noises.

“Fuck,” he coos, seemingly sensing your shame, “That was a fuckin’ orgasm, love.”

You’re panting, you realize. And you’re tired. You’ve never felt more relaxed in your life.

All you can think is that you’ve been missing out on that your whole life? Now you’re not sure you’ll be able to even live without it ever again.

Simon’s hands cup under your knees and pin them to your chest. You gasp as he bends you as he sees fit. You’re limp, so completely drunk on the pleasure you just experienced that you simply let him.

But you realize he’s even deeper like this – and it doesn’t hurt like it did before. He’s pressing against your back wall and it actually feels good. You feel so sensitive inside, like you can feel every twitch of his cock.

He’s still languidly dragging his cock in and out of you. It’s a fucking mess between your legs, you’ve cum so fucking much that it’s everywhere. He’s never been covered like this before and it’s fucking hot.

Your cum sticks between the two of you in little strings that break and reform every time his hips meet and leave yours. Your little clit is puffy and swollen from your orgasm and he wants to press his thumb against it again but he knows the poor little thing is much too sensitive still.

Your legs flop uselessly as he fucks you, eases you past overstimulation until you’re sweetly cooing for him again. He takes that chance to fuck you properly again, intent on finding his own orgasm deep in your cunt.

His heavy balls slap against your ass. He wants to cum. He plans to make himself cum like this, just using your pretty pussy. But then he sees your eyes widen again and your lips part almost curiously and his eyes narrow.

“You feel it again, huh, sweetheart?” he goads, shifting his weight on his knees so his hips are pressed even closer to yours.

“C-Can’t,” you whisper, the same thing you had before. But it’s different now, “W-Won’t be able to, Si.”

“S that a challenge, love?” he teases, a crooked little smile on his face. You sleepily shake your head, “Hmm, I think I can fuck another one out of you. One orgasm won’t be enough, two is a good number for now. Until I train this little cunt to cum for me all night long.”

You whimper, reaching out the claw at his forearms where he pins your knees to your chest. You’re held so uselessly open, cunt completely vulnerable to his fat cock stuffing you full. His pelvis hits your clit in a way that makes the little bud tingle and your cunt clenches pathetically around him with every thrust he gives you.

Sweet little ‘ah, ah, ah’s’ are punched from your lungs every time he sinks completely inside. He’s gripping your knees harshly, squeezing where he has a grip as his own orgasm starts to creep up on him but he’s going to give you another orgasm. He has to make you cum again, to see you lost in pleasure like that once more. He knows that will push him over the edge, give him what he needs. He wants to cum with you, fill you up while you’re in the throes of pure pleasure that only he has ever given you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps, fighting the feeling of his own eyes rolling back in favor of watching you.

He loves the way you wear everything you feel on your face. From the looks of wonder when it feels really good to the little rolls of your eyes when he makes it hurt just a bit. It’s so cute.

Makes him want to play around with that little part of you – be a little mean to you.

“Cum,” he growls, fighting his own orgasm down, “Fuckin’ cum right now.”

“I can’t!” you wail, kicking against his hold on your knees, pressing down to spread you open even further.

His hips slam against yours, loud slaps and slick noises of your gooey cunt filling his ears, “You can. You will. Cum, sweetheart. You better fuckin’ cum.”

But you shake your head. It’s so close, you can feel it. It’s creeping up on you and you want it so bad. You want to feel that pleasure again. But you’re not even sure you’re going to be able to cum again, it feels so much more sensitive than before. It’s too much.

Simon bares his teeth, letting go of one of your legs to drift between your thighs. Your eyes widen, you think he’s going to rub it again – it’s so sensitive that you’re not sure you’ll be able to take it.

But instead, he does something else.

You hear it before you feel it, a soft little slap followed by the feeling of being electrocuted. Simon watches you with lidded eyes to see how you react. Just like he expected, you wail and your body gives a mean twitch at the impact.

So he does it again.

And again.

Not too hard, just enough for it to hurt a little bit. A sting against a terribly sensitive little bud. It’s mean – he’s mean. But he can’t fucking help it.

He needs you to cum for him again.

“Cum,” he snarls, giving your clit another slap.

As if on command, it sends you over the edge. Your legs kick out and he has to abandon your clit to hold you down, pinning you harshly to the bed as he uses all his weight to fuck down into your spasming little cunt. You’re cumming so hard around him that you stop breathing. He hears the hitch of breath and doesn’t hear the exhale. All you do is lay there, cry for him and cum.

He finds his end just as violently, tossing his head back to moan into the room as cum erupts from his cock. His thrusts grow sloppy as he milks the orgasm out of himself, voice breaking as he whimpers from how fucking good it feels.

Like no orgasm he’s ever experienced. It’s like he can’t stop cumming, filling you up so much that it oozes out from around his cock.

You’re trembling underneath him when he finally comes down, tearfully gazing up at him with your mouth agape, struggling to catch your breath.

“N-No more,” you pathetically whimper, legs twitching from the aftershocks, “C-Can’t take anymore, Si.”

“Shh,” he shushes, letting your legs go so you can relax comfortably as he pulls his cock from your pussy.

It’s twitching and clenching sporadically, still coming down from your orgasm. It makes his cum drip out of your cunt, a mess that spreads to the already messy sheets. Your cum and his mix together to make a sticky, gooey mess that makes his mouth water. He wants to eat it up, stuff his tongue into your tight little hole and swallow it all down.

But he can’t. Maybe next time, he vows.

His cock gives a valiant kick at the thought of getting to do this again. He sits on his heels, gazing at his messy cock as if softens. He feels dazed, almost drunk.

Then he hears the softest little sniffle from you and his eyes snap up to your face to find your crumpled expression and tears falling down your face. You cover your face with your hands and earnestly begin to cry.

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” he coos, laying beside you to tuck you into his chest.

“I-I don’t know why I’m crying,” you sob, wrapping your arms around his waist as you cry into him.

“It happens,” he assures, “It was a lot and you’re just a little overwhelmed s’all. Just let it out, baby.”

And you do, weakly sobbing into his chest until it feels like you can’t cry anymore. He holds you through it all, rubbing your back and cooing sweet nothings in your ear until you grow silent.

“Alright, love?” he asks.

“S-Sorry, Si,” you sniffle, finally pulling out of the spot in his arms you were hiding in, “I-I don’t want you to think I didn’t want it or that it was bad. I just…”

He gives you a soft smile, leaning forward to kiss you. It’s short and sweet, “I don’t think that. Like I said, it happens. Sometimes people just cry after sex, nothin’ to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” you sniffle, wiping your cheeks dry when the tears finally stop.

“Positive,” he sits up, “Let’s get cleaned up, alright? We need to change the damn sheets, fuckin’ hell.”

You giggle as you look down at the sheets where a very visible dark spot is sitting where you once laid. You don’t even have time to be embarrassed before he’s swooping you off of the bed and escorting you to the bathroom.

It’s too small for both of you to fit but you make it work. He wipes you down with a warm cloth before hopping into the shower to rinse and clean himself before he gets out and lets you do the same. While you do that, he changes the bedding completely and replaces it with new sheets and blankets for the two of you to sleep in together.

When you finally stumble into the bedroom, he wraps his arms around you and urges you onto the bed. You giggle as you flop onto the bed before he crawls in after you and covers the both of you up, wrapping himself around you until you’re tucked securely against him.

“I take it you liked it?” he finally whispers.

You shyly nod, “I-It was um…fun.”

“Felt real good, huh?” he teases, grinning wolfishly when you whimper.

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, “It felt really good. I already want to do it again.”

Simon groans, hugging you tightly before shaking his head, “You’re gonna be insatiable. Gonna give my cock a run for its money.”

You giggle, affectionately petting his hair before he looks at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen. It’s like his eyes are sparkling in the low light of the bedroom. He leans forward and ever so softly kisses your forehead, then your nose, before he reaches your lips. He pecks them softly, pulling back for just a second before he kisses you again.

“I love you,” he whispers, so soft that you almost miss it.

And your heart begins to race. You almost struggle to find the words to reciprocate. But when you do, he smiles and tucks you against him again, big arms wrapped around you like a bear hug.

It’s almost surreal. You can’t believe you’re here after everything – with him.

Like you’ve dreamed your whole life, he loves you just like you love him.

PART ONE.

do not modify, translate, or repost

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod x reader

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ecoamerica · 23 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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81folklore · 7 months

Text

new years day - HS

pairings: harry styles x gn!reader (fc: none)

summary: harrys partner reminisces on instagram over the past 2 years of love on tour before the final show

authors note: i was listening to my sleepy taylor playlist and this song started playing and it took me back to all the love on tour edits so i had to create a smau for it.. i promise im working on the drafts i put on that poll!!

authors note 2: i used they/them pronouns when writing because nothing ever really specified readers gender so please imagine as you will!!

masterlist

yourusername has added to their story

*text on first photo reads: a couple of my favorite love on tour fits over the years💙*

seen by harrystyles, gemmastyles and 637,572 others

yourusername

liked by harrystyles, harry_lambert and 826,891 others

its going to be impossible to not miss this☹️

view comments

harrystyles: ❤️❤️

user7: oh i love them so much

user18: the support you show for harry is so lovely :’)

user73: im going to miss guessing what the styles will be wearing every night☹️

harry_lambert: so many outfits! so many fun nights!

yourusername: ahh ill miss seeing what youve put together for h

annetwist: ill miss seeing you so often darling!!

yourusername: you wont be able to get rid of us, promise🤍

yourusername added to their story

*text on first photo reads: and with that my final love on tour outfit is done💗* *text on second photo reads: bring on the finale🥹*

seen by harrystyles, annetwist and 752,174 others

yourusername

liked by harrystyles, lloyddddddddddddddddd and 1,118,592 others

tagged: harrystyles

theres glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby…

i have never been as sad as i am right now writing that love on tour is officially over! this has honestly been one of the craziest experiences for everyone; myself, the fans and for you harry. being able to watch you grow as an artist and an individual on and off stage for the past two years has been an honor and i cannot thank you enough for bringing me on this incredible journey with you

the love i feel for you is one i struggle to describe, its a feeling of joy when i see you on stage, its a feeling of hurt when i see you at your lows, its a feeling of pure happiness when i see you being who you are. loving you is something so genuinely special and i cannot believe i am the one who gets to witness all of you, all of your life

love on tour is truly something that is one of a kind and the family you were able to create with it will be something that lasts forever along with the memories created these past years

i dont think i will ever get over being the one to see you achieve everything you have ever wanted, getting to be the one you come to after a show and just hug until your hearts content, getting to be the person you cry on after a show like slane or wembley where you just felt so overwhelmed by the love and support you received

i will thank you everyday for choosing me to be that person, to be the person you love, to be the person you have join you in this life youve created for yourself

thank you love on tour and thank you harry

i will love you both forever and ever❤️‍🩹

view comments

capitalofficial: im not crying you are🥲

harryflorals: we love you both💐

gemmastyles: 😭😭😭🤍🤍

harrystyles: 💗💗

user6: i need harry to learn how to use instagram properly i NEED to see his response😭

user89: sobbing and screaming

user35: they love him so much😭😭

harrystyles: baby the love i have for you is endless, thank you for coming with me on this journey and thank you for letting me love you. i love you so so much

user35: and HE LOVES THEM SO MUCH😭😭

user62: i feel sick they love eachother so much❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

yourusername added to their story

seen by user56, user77 and 916,473 others

*first story has the song ‘new years day’ by taylor swift attached* *second story text reads: 🏠*

#harry styles x reader #social media au #harry styles social media au #harry styles social media #harry styles fake instagram #smau #harry styles smau #harry styles instagram #harry styles instagram au #harry styles x male reader #harry styles x fem reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles

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gyunglitter · 8 months

Text

i'll always choose you ⚘ choi beomgyu

-for the days being alive seems too hard, you're so happy to have your boyfriend

warnings: none really, just beomgyu being a simp—also, not edited

tags: established relationship, angst, fluff, hurt to comfort

notes: this is the first time i’ve ever finished a story (even if it is just a one shot), but i’m so happy it was this one. i wrote this during a couple of my bad days, so i hope it can help you on yours <3

Beomgyu was just barely getting out of his post-practice shower when he heard his special ringtone he had set just for you go off. You hadn’t talked to each other all day, your last interaction being a quick facetime and good night texts. And while the other members teased him for being clingy, he admitted with his full chest that he missed you. Tiredly wiping a towel through his damp hair, Beomgyu looked at his phone to see a new text message from you.

From: bubs <3

are you busy?

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow at the simple message; typically, you were a pretty energetic texter. It was something he liked about you since he was the same way with people he cared about. Your relationship was still fairly new, but he didn’t think it felt that way with you– the two of you seemed to just get one another, clicking instantly right off the bat and your connection getting deeper with every interaction. So to see a quick text like that surprised him a little bit, but with the thought of getting to facetime you, Beomgyu texted you back immediately.

To: bubs <3

hey, just got out of the shower! practice went a little long today🙃

Beomgyu set his phone down for a moment to throw on some clothes, thinking you would take a bit longer to respond since you typically send longer texts once you knew he was free to talk. However, he was proven wrong when he heard your ringtone go off not even ten seconds later.

From: bubs <3

can i see you?

Beomgyu couldn’t help but feel a little worried as he glanced at the message, throwing his shirt on to get his hands back on his phone. Call him dramatic, but the simple sentence made the worst possible scenarios run through his mind.

To: bubs <3

is everything okay?

what happened?

From: bubs <3

it’s fine

nothing happened

sorry, didn’t mean to worry you

A sigh left Beomgyu’s mouth as he read your last text, confusion and worry only building up even more. Though you assured him nothing had happened, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. Not only were your texts incredibly bland, but you also weren’t elaborating much of anything, something you supremely hated. Communication was key to you, and he was just now starting to realize why.

To: bubs <3

are you at your dorm right now?

From: bubs <3

yeah

To: bubs <3

okay, did you want any food or anything?? i can drop by the dumpling place or tteokbokki stand on the way to yours!

From: bubs <3

its fine, see you soon?

To: bubs <3

yeah, i’ll be there in 15

just gotta let the guys know!

Beomgyu waited for any other texts from you to come through, but was left with the same screen. No “thanks”, no “stay safe” text, not even one emoji that could possibly express some form of affection. At first he thought you got into an accident of some disastrous sort, spiking his worries. Now, he can feel the worry levels rising again, this time for himself.

What if you wanted to break up with him?

He thought your two a half months of being together had been perfect so far, he hadn’t messed up once. Sure, he teased you about the way you sang his songs sometimes, or the times you needed his help with your perilla leaf, or even when you couldn’t beat Hueningkai in arm wrestling. But he thought it was cute! He thought you liked him annoying you since you dished it back much worse than he did–BUT WHAT IF YOU DIDN’T?

Oh no.

He had to beg you to not leave him, he was not ready to let you go, he hadn’t even taken you to meet Toto yet.

You sat by your front door, resting your head beside the door frame as you waited for Beomgyu to show up. You had no idea how much time had passed since you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at your phone after his last message got through to you. You’d left your phone on your bed and used your remaining energy to trudge your way to the front door. You were tired.

True to your texts to your boyfriend, nothing had happened. And it was okay. You weren’t, but the vague subject of “it” very much was. Sort of.

Nothing inherently bad happened to you: no one spilt their coffee on you, no mean people at work, not even a long red light while driving home. It had just been one of those days where the world felt a little heavier on you. You honestly haven't felt this way in a while. Not since before meeting Beomgyu, who made you smile more than you thought was possible. But alas, mental illness isn’t cured so easily.

You’d gotten home from work less than thirty minutes ago, but you had yet to feel any relief yet. Not knowing what to do and not wanting to be alone, you reached out to the boy who makes you feel lighter effortlessly. You’ve only been together for two and a half months, but they have been the happiest two and a half months you’ve experienced–cheesiness be damned.

Frantic knocks on the front door motivated you to get up for your boyfriend, the tightness in your chest already getting ready to loosen at the thought of Beomgyu standing on the other side.

You could see your boyfriend’s startled face when you opened the door, most likely from the fact that he had barely taken his fist off the wood when you’d whipped it open.

“Y-Y/n! I got here as fast as I could! I know what you’re gonna say, and I just wanna say first that I’m so sorry for teasing you so much–you just make the cutest facial expressions when you get annoyed and I didn’t realize you might have actually cared that I said Hyuka’s arms are bigger than your mom–”

You stared at the boy rambling in front of you, waving one arm in the air as chaotically as his words. However, you also saw in his other hand was a small bunch of flowers–flowers that looked suspiciously like the ones planted in your main lobby’s centerpieces. The poor things still had clumps of dirt on their ends and were staining your boyfriend’s fingers, but he didn’t show any indication of caring as he was still staring at you intently, unshed tears lining his eyes.

This was your boyfriend. Your sweet, loud, silly boyfriend who never failed to make you feel lighter. Effortlessly.

Quickly, you wrapped your arms around Beomgyu’s waist and held him tightly. You felt his arms secure themselves around you automatically. You only realized he’d done it without thinking when he stopped talking and could feel his heart rate suddenly pick up after a few seconds in each other’s arms.

“I don’t wanna break up with you, you loser,” you muttered into his neck and chest.

Beomgyu breathed out. “You don’t?”

“No, I just…really wanted to see you.”

All you could manage was burying yourself even deeper into your boyfriend’s embrace. For the first time today, you felt like you could finally trust someone enough to take hold of the weight from the world and bear it with you. As a result, you slowly leaned against Beomgyu even more and let him really hold you, feeling as if you didn’t have to hold yourself up now that you knew help was here.

Beomgyu tightened his grip on you, when he felt you sigh into his neck. His mind flashed back to the messages you sent. Sure he was relieved that you weren’t trying to leave him, but now he was back to square one: worrying about you.

“Y/n?” He whispered into your hair.

“Hm?”

“I…I really like you, y/n…” Beomgyu admitted quietly. “You said nothing happened, but I know you’re not okay. I don’t know what’s wrong, but please tell me so I can fix it.”

He felt your head burrow even further into him for a second and was about to say…well he doesn’t quite know what to say, he’s just so damn worried about you. But he ended up not needing to say anything. Because you had instead pushed yourself away from his embrace and grabbed his hands, not minding the dirt gathering on your fingers from his pathetic flowers.

“Let’s head inside, Gyu.”

And you led him through, not letting go of his hand once. Not even when he reached to take off his shoes. You instead stuck to him, as if you couldn’t bear to be physically apart from him for one second. He didn’t mind. He felt the same way.

When you both made it to your room, Beomgyu placed the crushed flowers on your bedside table and laid down on your bed. It only took him a second to open his arms for you to snuggle into him once again, shrinking yourself even more than you had before. He massaged the back of your neck under your hair, a habit he randomly developed with you to soothe both you and himself, and felt you release another big sigh.

Though this felt really nice, Beomgyu couldn’t feel at ease. This was completely new territory for the both of you. Sure, you had many quiet moments together. But your silences together were more so ones of peace. This one felt more like…an absence. As if he was missing something and just waiting for you to fill it in again.

“Thanks for the flowers. I’m sorry I worried you so much,” you whispered, your voice so low he wouldn’t have been able to hear had it not been for the lack of space between you. You sounded so, well, small.

And as much as Beomgyu wanted to tell you it was okay, he knew he couldn’t. Because if he said it was, you’d think you could do it again. And he really did not want to go through feeling like this again. Others would call him dramatic, but he calls it his Y/n Intuition. You may be the light in his life, but he knows all about hiding your real feelings behind a smile.

“I just…I don’t think about what I’m saying or doing sometimes when I get…like this…”

He can practically hear the struggle you’re going through as you try to communicate with him.

“What is this, bubs?” Beomgyu asked patiently, prompting you to keep trying.

Taking a breath, you took the time to sort out your thoughts before saying, “Somedays I just wake up…duller I guess.”

“Duller?”

You nodded hesitantly. “Like the colors are fading, my days all become the same, and even though I just woke up I’m so tired. And I just…don’t get the point anymore.”

Beomgyu tried his hardest to not flinch at your confession.

“I’m so tired, Beomgyu, I can’t bring myself to do anything. And I can’t want to do anything either. Just the thought of it….” You shook your head back and forth, as if to erase what you’d just said. “Agh, I hate myself sometimes. I’m sorry, that’s so lazy. I’m not like this most of the time, I promise, Gyu. Some days are just harder than others.”

Beomgyu frowned deeply at your denial to yourself. He didn’t like hearing the things you thought about unconsciously, but even more, he didn’t like the way you talked about yourself.

“Why do you talk about yourself like that?” He asked, hands still.

You raised your head to look up at him. “Like what?”

“‘Lazy’. You’re not lazy, y/n.”

“That’s what being lazy is, dude,” you scoffed, letting out a light laugh.

But Beomgyu shook his head. “That’s not the root of the issue–there’s a difference between being lazy and overwhelmed. It happens to me too, you can’t help that sometimes. But you’re. Not. Lazy, y/n. You just need help.”

He watched as your eyes widened at him, before you frowned and scoffed, mostly aimed toward yourself. “I’m, uh, not very good at asking for help.”

“You did a good job of getting me here,” Beomgyu smiled.

You shook your head at him. “But I wasn’t trying to get you here for help. I…” you sighed out, laying your head back in Beomgyu’s neck. “I just wanted you.”

With a new soft feeling taking over, Beomgyu nearly burst into tears for the second time that night. He felt things in his heart and stomach he had never felt before, and he didn’t want it to ever go away. God, he couldn’t put a proper name to how he felt, but he wanted you too.

“I missed you today, “ he whispered into the quiet room.

“Yeah?” you whispered back.

“Mhm. Practice went long today, but it felt even longer because I couldn’t focus on anything but that goodnight text you sent me last night.”

“It wasn’t anything special, Gyu,” you said, but he could tell that you were blushing, which made him let out a soft chuckle.

“I swear, you have such a way with words, bubs, I think you chose the wrong profession,” he joked lightly, feeling the way your lips curved against his neck. “But it’s not always the words you say that matter to me, it’s the fact that you say anything at all.”

Beomgyu’s hand that had been rubbing the back of your neck moved down to squeeze your waist again.

He said softly, “I know it’s hard for you to see what the point is some days, I feel like that sometimes too. But I just have to remind myself of the things that keep me happy.”

“Like Toto?” you chimed in, a small smile creeping up your lips as Beomgyu snorted at your lame joke to stop your tears from coming.

“I was thinking more about you, but yes, I guess he counts too.”

You gasped playfully, “Wow, some pet owner you are.”

He just shrugged in response. “It was either that or a being a good boyfriend, bubs.”

“Well,” you sighed heavily, “Even though I feel bad for your bird, I have to say I am grateful you chose the second option. I mean, look at these beautiful flowers you got me. They’re so authentic, they still have the dirt from my lobby on them.”

Beomgyu merely smiled, before saying, “It’s not that hard of a decision—I’ll always choose you, bubs.”

He felt a groan reverberate off of his neck from your whining form and tried to stop the laugh from bubbling out of his chest, knowing it would distract you from his point. Meanwhile you were too busy trying to fight off your embarrassment.

“Oh my god, Gyu, you’re so cheesy!” You try and nestle into your boyfriend further to hide from him, but fail as you’re already as close as can be. And with the fact that Beomgyu does not put up with it this time.

“No y/n, I mean it!” Your boyfriend pushed you away gently but firmly to make you see his gaze that was filled with determination and sincerity. “I know it’s only been a couple of months, but you need to know this because I can’t see myself not being with you anytime in the near future. Meaning there are going to be more days like this, whether it’s you feeling off, or me! While I try to let you know just how much I care about you everyday, I want you to remember especially on the hard days that you are so important; to the people you call family, to the people you work with, to the people you smile at, to our friends, to my family, to me. God, y/n, you mean the world to me.”

You could feel tears start to build up on your lash line. Usually you’d try and hide away when you started to get emotional, but between Beomgyu’s firm hands holding you and his own watery eyes staring intently into yours, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

“While I want you to be the happiest person everyday of your life and never have to cry, I know personally how that isn’t healthy or fair of me to put on you,” Beomgyu said, his voice starting to become wobbly, “So whenever you feel like this, I want you to know that I understand. And if you’ll have me, I’ll be here.”

The tears were already falling, from both your eyes and his, but you didn’t care. All you could feel was Beomgyu’s heart beating under your hand as you slowly moved it to rest on his chest. Your heart rate matched his easily, speeding up just the tiniest bit as Beomgyu moved his hand to rest on top of yours.

“Gyu…”

“Please have me, Y/n. I really, really like you. And I want to be here, no matter what kind of day it is,” he whispered now, the words slowly getting lower the closer you inched to him.

You let out the smallest laugh, as if the peaceful feeling filling your stomach was floating through your lungs to now fill the small space between you and your boyfriend's lips. The laugh was a tinkly, kind sound that seemed to have reached Beomgyu, because the tears running down his cheeks were overtaken by his dimples you so famously adored. Your laugh sounded out, but the smile on your face remained as you started to cup his cheek and lightly trace over his dimple.

“God…you mean the world to me too, Beomgyu,” you whispered.

Your voice sent shivers down Beomgyu’s spine, and the way he sighed in awe at your words made you lean forward to close the space between you two, your lips finally connecting after what felt like too long.

His hands shifted to tugging you even closer as he sighed in the kiss. You hummed against his lips as well, relishing in the way he deepened the kiss, a bit desperately as if he couldn’t possibly get enough of you. You couldn’t complain, as you felt the exact same. And as you felt the connection between you both deepen, you could also feel the tightness in your chest melt away.

While you knew your problems/feelings weren’t something Beomgyu could kiss away, you knew he would understand. You knew he would be there. And you knew he would care.

And for now, that was enough to get you out of bed the next morning with a smile, ready to take on another day.

(additional) notes: just wanted to say that while this beomgyu isn’t real, i hope y’all know that everything this one said is still true. if y’all need anything, message me or any of the ones mentioned and watch some to do :)

#tomorrow x tomorrow #txt #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu #choi beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #beomgyu #beomgyu imagines #txt fluff #beomgyu fluff

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starry-nights12 · 9 months

Text

Romantic Homicide

Read on AO3

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationship: Ekko/Jinx (Timebomb)

Word Count: 4,401

Tags: Angst, Ekko Needs a Hug, Jinx Needs a Hug, Mutual Pining, Kidnapping, Hurt No Comfort

Summary:

Jinx is on the run and has to flee the city. But before she does, she has a few parting words to tell her dear old friend, Ekko.

Author's Note:

The title is from d4vd song. The song fits them so well!

This fic is for @redrum-alice! This whole fic is based on their idea!

Big thanks to @su-univeralai for editing it!

Fic's playlist🥀🖤

Steam filled the bathroom and billowed out the hallway through the cracked door.

Ekko stood under the shower and let the hot water wash over his body. It was nearly scalding but the little bit of pain felt good.

He cupped his hands under the water and then splashed his face. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing hers gazing back at him.

He couldn't do it.

He thought killing her would solve his problems and be the end of it.

Her smiles used to be full of joy, and her laughter was contagious. Now, only her smiles were wide and sadistic at the bloodshed she caused.

But for once, her smile was wistful. Her eyes gleamed with unspoken apologies.

It was Silco's fault for destroying their lives.

It was Jinx's fault for choosing Silco and willingly working for him.

It was Ekko's fault for not saving her.

He didn't kick the bomb fast enough. His ankle was sprained but he tried moving her. His broken hoverboard couldn't even carry two people anyway.

And now she's dead.

He sat under that bridge and cried for her after he heard Silco leaving with her.

I keep trying to do right by her, but it never works out. I'm just a fucking failure.

He sighed heavily as he turned off the water. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel.

He was drying his face off when he felt a hard whack to the side of his head.

----

He groaned when he came to. His head throbbed and his vision was blurry.

Wherever he was, the room was only dimly lit by candles. Shimmer-colored eyes stared back at him. "You're awake."

Holy fucking shit.

He knew whose voice that belonged to.

"What the fuck? Jinx?!"

"That's me," She sings-song in a monotone voice.

A cacophony of emotions brewed inside him. He was confused, relieved, and even happy that she was alive. But he was mostly shocked at seeing her.

"Oh my Gods. You're alive?"

"Am I alive?" She scoffed. "You would have liked it if I died, wouldn't you?"

"What? No!" He answered earnestly.

"Don't lie to me," she removed PowPow from its holster and loaded it with bullets. "I fucking hate liars. They make me sick."

"I wouldn't lie to you. I would never-"

"People will say anything to not get killed." She cocked her gun.

My bat.

I need my bat.

He couldn't move his hands. He couldn't move anything except his head.

He looked down at himself; he was clothed. He remembered getting out of the shower before everything went black.

His arms, legs, feet, and chest were tightly bound to a chair with rope. He surveyed his surroundings and realized he wasn't in his room.

He struggled to break free from his restraints to no avail. "Where am I?"

Jinx huffed. "Back to where it aaaallllll started," She droned.

She didn't need to elaborate. He could never forget. He was the one to follow Silco and informed Vi of where he was holding Vander.

The canary by the docks.

He should have never told her. Or at least try to help. It was all his fault.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"You're so rude," she twirled her gun around her finger. "Can't two old friends just catch up?"

He rolled his eyes. "Cut the bullshit. You just came to kill me."

She hummed in consideration. "That depends on how much you piss me off, sunny boy," She drolled.

"But I have good news. My name will go down in history as the woman that killed the council!"

He didn't care about what happened to Topsiders but that news still surprised him. "You did?"

Jinx beamed, "Yes, sir-y! I'm going to be famous even when I'm good and dead!" She bubbled.

"But being famous comes with a price. You see, if the Enforcers don't kill me first, then those losers at Stillwater will try.

Killing the daughter of an infamous drug lord would rack up the bragging points, ya know? So, I'm leaving. I wanted to talk to you before I left."

"Talk to me? But how did you know I was even alive?"

Gods, she hated being weak. It was the reason that the little girl's bloated, decomposed body was floating in the well.

But she was never going to see him again so it wouldn't matter.

"I thought you were dead. I was going to Benzo's shop for old-time sake," She admitted.

"And what did I see? You, waltzing inside like nothing happened." She shook her head at herself. "I should have known. Nothing ever stays dead," She grumbled.

What she omitted was that she made a metal bouquet of flowers.

She hid in an alley and watched him enter. She couldn't believe that she was crying over him yet there he was.

She threw the bouquet in a nearby dumpster and stormed towards the shop.The door was obviously locked.

The shop had been boarded up for years. Nothing but bittersweet memories of her ex-friend and his father figure.

But unfortunately for him, she remembered his secret entrance. They used it when they wanted to eavesdrop on Benzo and Vander or Benzo with his customers.

"I was in the shower when you kidnapped me," He noted.

Since I was distracted, she was able to use it to her advantage and took the opportunity to pistol whip me.

"Yep," She shrugged nonchalantly. "You aren't special. I did the same with that Enforcer chick too."

She didn't have time to leer or gawk at him. She had to get him dressed and out of his home before he became conscious again.

Caitlyn?

Ugh. No way. She would rather have her eyes bleached than see that mess again.

Ekko?

Well...

Under different circumstances, she wouldn't have minded seeing the Boy Saviour undressed.

His eyes widened.

Caitlyn? She was with Vi the last I saw them.

His heart wanted to plummet out of his body as panic arose.

No. No, no, no, no, no. Oh Gods, no.

"What did you do with them? Did you kill Vi?"

Jinx rolled her eyes and sighed.

Oh, right. He's still talking.

"You see, big sis and I haven't gotten along since she started dating that demon," She said. "So, maybe! I'm just chock-full of surprises!" She giggled.

"You're not funny, Jinx," He admonished.

"No. I'm hilarious," She smirked at her quip.

She stood in front of him with her arms crossed. She wanted to get a good look at him one last time.

His hair was down, and he wasn't wearing his usual face paint.

His brown eyes were glaring at her, his cute wide nose scrunched up, and his mouth was twisted in contempt. Yet, his full lips looked very soft.

Again, under different circumstances, she would have loved to kiss him. She always wanted him to be her first kiss.

She would have loved his mouth to touch other places on her body.

He had no right being this pretty and making her heart swoon the way he did.

She reached out and brushed a stray, damp dreadlock out of his face. His hair was as soft and white as the clouds she saw in Piltover.

Ekko cringed and turned his face away from her.

Sometimes, he had dreams of them being happy and he felt her tender touches, smiling warmly at him as she did.

But he didn't want it like this. Being held against his will in a dilapidated building where their lives were irreparably ruined.

Out of everything she's done, this sudden act of affection was bizarre.

Her heart squeezed painfully as she retracted her hand.

Even my touch disgusts him.

He thought he saw something flash in her eyes...was she hurt?

He yelped when she backhanded him. He suppressed a groan from the stinging pain in his cheek.

She cackled and pointed at him.

She was being nice to Ekko for the first time in years, and he didn't even appreciate it.

She felt immense joy when she slapped Sevika awake. She even sighed in content from hitting that ogre that always looked down on her.

She wanted to hurt him like he just did to her. She should have felt better...but she didn't.

He heard her laugh while they fought. It was shrill, filled with unbridled satisfaction as she shot at him and his gang.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he turned his head to her. Her pupils would dilate from the high of mowing them down with her bullets.

This time was different.

Her grin didn't reach her eyes. Her laugh almost sounded forceful; adding faux glee in enjoying his pain.

At least he hoped so.

"What happened to you? Why did you take shimmer?"

Yesh. He sure asked a lot of questions. It's not like we're friends. It wasn't any of his business anyway. It's not like he cares.

She grabbed the sides of his chair and leaned close to his face. He ignored how the proximity made his heart skip a beat, and his cheeks warm.

"Because I thought it was juice. It looked yummy," She innocently smiled.

"Instead of trying to destroy it, you and your wannabe street trash should try it. It tastes as good as it looks." She grinned widely while shaking his chair.

Jinx laughed when Ekko's lip curled in disgust. He was always so serious.

He couldn't reason with her. He tried so many times in the past, but she wouldn't listen. She liked how she turned out.

He sighed dejectedly, "You're so talented and smart. You wasted everything, Powder."

"My name is not Powder!" She threw a chair with enough force to smash the wood into pieces as it hit the wall.

"You and Vi keep calling me by a dead brat's name! It's Jinx! J-I-N-X! Jinx!" She shouted. The utensils clattered with every banging of her fist with each letter.

Her eyes glowed brighter in her fury. Her teeth gritted into a snarl and growled, her chest heaving with every ragged breath.

His whole body froze.

Holy shit.

He wishes there was a way to get out of here. He wanted to go home, but his location had been compromised.

The Firelight Base. Did she know where that was? Gods, he prayed she didn't find that out, too.

He released a breath he was holding. "Jinx," He quickly corrected. "It's Jinx. I slipped up. It was an accident."

She turned her gaze at him. For the first time that night, he sounded startled.

She had the gun loaded when she broke into the shop. When he was unconscious she took out the bullets and then reloaded when he gained consciousness to scare him.

Her display of strength from her outburst wasn't planned. She slowly grinned, and her giggling turned into peels of maniacal laughter.

Not so tough now, huh?

She sighed happily when her laughing subsided.

She walked around his chair with her finger tracing the wood.

"You know what else is funny?" She yanked his shirt and sneered. "How you got everything to lose while I got nothing.

Why does the universe favor you so much? I went through the same thing, but I have nothing to show for it." She said bitterly.

He stared at her for a moment.

So that's what she thought of his life? That it was somehow better? That everything in his life was carefree with zero problems?

"You think I have everything I wanted? That my life is so fuckng easy and perfect compared to yours?" He chuckled sardonically.

"Yeah, I have new friends. But every time I step out of my home, I have to worry about you or Enforcers killing them!" He seethed.

"I lost everyone! I saw Benzo get killed! I lost Mylo, Claggor, Vander, Vi, and you. All in one night!

It has nothing to do with the universe. It's your shitty decisions that got you here! It's why you're on the run now!

We went through the same shit together! But you wanted to be coddled and let Silco turn you into what you are now." He exploded.

"And what is that? Hm?" She challenged. "A monster? Yeah, real-"

"A corpse!" Ekko spat, his voice broken slightly. "He turned my best friend into a corpse of what she used to be!"

Her eyes widened. She released his shirt and backed away. Her chest suddenly became tight and it was hard to breathe. Mylo liked that and was laughing at her.

A corpse.

Something that was slowly rotting away, in front of his eyes for seven years.

Someone that should have been dead but was still staggering around acting alive and well.

He sounded hurt; the tears sliding down his face providing evidence of his feelings. As if seeing her grow up into what she was now has caused him excruciating pain.

She swallowed a big, painful lump down her throat but managed to chuckle, shaking her head.

He and Vi thought they knew everything. Silco didn't create her. She had dormant traits laying within her that she discovered with him.

She was going to tell him that, but Ekko had more to say.

"I had no one else to go to. You were all I had left. But after Silco adopted you, you left me. You turned your back on me for him and I was alone.

You said Vi abandoned you, Jinx. But you wanna know how I felt? That you abandoned me too."

Her heart stopped beating, all the air sucked out of her.

Her ending their friendship to embrace her new life with Silco felt like a betrayal to him. So much so that he felt abandoned by her.

Abandoned.

No.

How dare he?! She wasn't like Vi.

Was she?

Her stomach churned at the comparison.

I'm not like Vi.

I would never do something like that.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no!

Jinx pointed the gun to his forehead. "You're lying!" She stormed. "I could kill you!"

He was emotionally drained.

If she killed him, then at least he was able to tell her everything he wanted to say to her for the last several years.

He would miss everyone at his base. His best friend, Scar, was second in command. At least his community would be safe in his hands.

He pressed his forehead against the barrel. "If you think I'm lying then do it. Kill me. This will be the last time you'll keep hurting me."

Her gun stayed there for two minutes. She trailed it down his face, jaw, and chest.

In a better world, it would have been her hands caressing him. He would look at her in adoration as if she was something to behold and treasure.

But this was reality. Not a stupid, childish fantasy.

Her finger was dangerously close to pulling the trigger.

She used to have everything.

They scrapped for coins and struggled to get by, but she had a loving family and her best friend was her first crush.

Her inventions failed but she had Vi encouraging her. She believed in her when she didn't believe in herself.

Now she had no one.

Her birth parents were murdered.

She killed Vander and her brothers.

She killed Silco.

Vi went with the Enforcer.

Her ex-friend felt like she betrayed and abandoned him. He wanted her to kill him.

She truly was alone in this world.

'Do it,' Mylo encouraged. 'Then we'll finally have someone better to talk to. Besides, he was our friend too.'

No.

'No?' Mylo scoffed. 'You're never going to see him again. If you missed him so much then make him join us. It's the only way he'll ever talk to you again.' Mylo mocked.

'He hates you. If he hated you before he hates you even more. You're nothing but a mistake. A Jinx,' A smile crept along his face. 'A corpse.'

Her anguish and rage escaped her body into a roar.

Gunshots rang out into the night, crows cawed and flew away.

Smoke emitted from the barrel of her gun, she breathed heavily, tears brimming her eyes.

Silco's eyes were wide in shock when she shot her before they eventually closed.

Vander, Mylo, Claggor, and Silco.She killed everyone.

Ekko's eyes were still open too. They used to be filled with warmth and his presence comforted her.

All she felt was his cold, gaze bore into whatever was left of her damaged soul.

He was glaring at her. He didn't flinch from the shots she fired in the air.

She let her gun slip from her hands and dropped to her knees; gut-wrenching sobs tore through her chest and she covered her face with shaking hands.

Her sorrow strangled her until she heaved for breath and coughed.

She couldn't do it.

She desperately tried and wanted to forget about him over the years, but she couldn't. Her crush on him still lingered. She yearned for how things used to be.

She missed their friendship. She missed him.

A part of her cared for him even though there was no chance that he felt the same.

Ekko leaned his head back on the chair, closed his eyes, and listened to her cries.

He felt empty. Tonight had hollowed out his emotions but a single tear managed to escape his eye.

Why did their lives turn out like this? They always seemed miserable around each other.

You can't change the past and have to move towards the present. But time doesn't heal all wounds.

He missed what they used to be. He wanted to make her happy. He wanted both of them to be happy one day.

They didn't deserve this. They deserved better.

Ekko opened his eyes when she stopped sobbing and stared at her hunched figure. Her hand slid down her face and she stared back at him.

Her eyes were red with black tears staining her face. She snorted and wiped the snot from her nose.

She stood and took out a switchblade from her pocket.

He eyed the knife in her hand, looked at her face, and braced himself.

She didn't shoot him but probably wanted to stab him instead.She wanted his death to be more painful than a quick gunshot.

She wanted to feel the knife plunge into him, his blood running down her hands, choking on it while watching as he slowly succumbed to his stab wounds.

Instead, she slashed her knife across the restraints.

Without the rope around his chest, he was able to breathe deeply. He sighed his exhaustion then rubbed his wrist.

"When things got really bad, I used to remember how you were always there to comfort me." She shook her head with a sad smile. "Now all we do is hurt each other."

"We can still go back to that. We can still try."

"No. We can't. We changed too much." She grabbed her backpack from under the table.

"Where are you going?"

She had to leave this cursed city. She didn't know where she would hide but she knew for certain where she was heading after all this.

She put the straps over her shoulders and smiled weakly. "To hell." She sniffed and wiped her cheeks.

She was going to leave again. She was going to slip through his fingers again and lose her forever.

"We don't have to end it like this," he stood up. "We can figure something out."

She shook her head. "It's too late. Everything between us is tainted, Ekko. You're twenty. You're too old to be playing hero. You-"

Jinx's eyes widened when Ekko enveloped her in a tight embrace.

A reasonable person would have high-tailed it out of there. But she used to be his childhood friend and his first love.

As fucked up as the situation was, she still is.

Only her.

She was going to disappear, and he wanted something good to remember her by.

She hadn't had any physical affection since Silco and Vi. She should have pulled away but there wasn't any fight left in her.

The two of them slowly sank onto the floor. He was so warm, his strong arms around her lithe frame.

She kidnapped him, slapped him, and threatened to murder him, yet he was being so tender with her.

After everything she did, this sudden act of tenderness was odd.

But it was welcomed.

She clung to him and buried her face into his shirt. Can you feel euphoria from a hug? Because this felt amazing.

"Please stay," He pleaded.

Stay? After the torment she put him through tonight he wanted her to stay?

She shook her head. "I can't. I'll get you killed. Not you. Anyone but you," She rasped.

"It won't happen. Things can be different."

"You don't know that. It'll all come crashing down and you'll blame me. Killing people is what I'm good at," She sniffled.

"You don't know that either. We won't know if things can turn out better if we don't try," He beseeched.

"Why are you doing this? Why do you want me to stay?" She whimpered.

"Because I'm tired of fighting you. I never enjoyed it. I just want peace. I want my friend back. Please, P-Jinx. I'm sorry. Please, Jinx." He nuzzled the crook of her neck.

He was so naive. So desperate to ignore the fact that he couldn't save everyone. His hero syndrome wouldn't let him believe otherwise.

"You have to let me go."

She didn't even want to let him go. His hug was welcoming and brought her comfort.

His arms tightened around her. "You're not a jinx. I'll protect you. I'll be happy that you stayed. I want you here." His hand cradled the back of her head.

She thought she ran out of tears, but he was able to make more fill her eyes.

Oh my Gods.

Her insides felt warm and fuzzy, her surroundings became a soft blur of pink with hearts everywhere.

Only him. She wanted to cradle his head and keep him there.

She savored the slow caresses on his back while the other traveled to his head.

Only-

No.

Her eyes shot open and her hand stopped at his nape.

You can't stay. You'll only hurt him again. You'll only cause him more problems. You have to leave.

She rapidly blinked herself out of her daze, her hands tightly gripping his shoulders.

Gods, what the fuck was she doing?

"Let go!"

She roughly shoved him away, his back hit the table with a grunt: it nearly toppled over with the glass cups and plates shattering on the floor

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Her hands reached out for him but she held them to her chest.

Mylo rolled his eyes. His little sister was so predictable.

'You're hurting him again. That's all you're ever good for.'

She scrambled to get up and sprinted to the door.

"Jinx, please!"

His big, teary, brown eyes pleaded with her when his words couldn't.

She couldn't look at them anymore. The pain constricted into her body and clenched her heart with its razor-sharp talons.

She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the straps of her backpack tighter. "I'm sorry, Little Man. For everything."

A flash of blue and a trail of magenta bolted down the hallway.

"Jinx!"

He ran after her, but she already vanished.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed a piece of paper on the floor. It must have fallen out of his pocket.

He kneeled to unfold it, the letter was written in blue and pink markers:

Dear Ekko,

I'm sorry.

You always knew how to make me feel better when we were kids. Before the incident, you were always my favorite person.

You still are.

Goodbye,

-JINX

Her favorite person.

The confession made his heart soar yet shatter him at the same time.

He wanted to tell her that she was his favorite person, too.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I still love a woman that breaks my heart?

He sat on the floor and then held his head in his hands.

She was gone.

His sadness simmered and boiled into anger.

Nothing he said worked, and his pleading fell on deaf ears. Someone from his past that he wanted to have but couldn't.

He was useless when it came to her.

He failed her.

Again.

Always letting her down.

That was all he was ever good for, right?

----

Jinx was exiting the canary when she heard him scream. She whipped her head around and gasped softly, "Ekko?"

She wanted to go back. Take him up on his offer that things can be different.

She didn't want to be alone, and he was giving her a chance even after everything that transpired.

Ekko gave her hope. She wanted to be happy. With him. She longed for that so much. She wanted her dreams to become a reality.

She wanted a friend. He was all she had left.

She took two steps forward in the doorway when Silco appeared in front of her. His pristine suit was riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.

'You shouldn't go back, dear. He's not worth your time.' He advised.

"But he's-he was my friend."

'He refused to accept you. Just like your sister. He'll be with you for ten minutes before he rejects you again.' Silco said.

Jinx frowned. "But he said-"

'He lied. Everyone does.' Silco reminded her. 'I'm your family. I would never steer you wrong. Have I?'

Jinx's eyes dropped to the floor as she shook her head.

'This is about your survival, child. I'm not there to protect you anymore. You have to do what you must to make it in this world. He'll only slow you down and hurt you again. Just like everyone else in your life.' Silco stated.

Jinx looked past him and into the dark hallway.

She didn't want to hurt Ekko anymore. She wanted to show him that she was capable of doing more.

Silco's features contorted into an irritated scowl. His daughter was smarter than this. Why was she hesitating for some boy?

'You need to leave him, Jinx,' He said sternly. 'Now.'

Her eyes glazed with fresh tears and her lips trembled.

A lone firelight flew past her as she ran away.

#timebomb #ekkojinx #ekko #jinx #arcane #arcane fanfic #fanfiction #my post #my writing #my fics #gift fic #angst

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rebelrebelwrites · 11 months

Text

Fic Friday! ❤️ Rebel’s Weekly Fic Recs

~ Haladriel Week Edition (Part 2) ~

A day late, but it's a long weekend and I needed a relaxation night last night so here we are. I'm still working my way through all of the @haladrielweek goodness, so you'll definitely see more HW fics in the weekly recs, though I think this post will be the last HW-specific recs post.

That's it! Let's get rolling. As always, this week's recs are...

As always, please mind the tags on any recommended story for your own personal preferences.

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The Classic You’ve Heard Of But Somehow Haven’t Read Yet: Civil Twilight by eye_of_a_cat

What you need to know going in:

Written for HW's Day 5, "Family," this fic is yet another canonverse masterpiece from Cat, seeing Galadriel reuniting with Celeborn after S1—and a desperate, angst-filled, steamy reunion with Sauron first. 👀 When Gal finds Celeborn again, he’s changed so much since they last saw each other… and, of course, so has she—most notably, being with Sauron’s child. What’s remarkable about this story is the characterization of Gal, Sauron AND Celeborn; I can honestly say that despite being ten thousand percent IN on Sauron and Gal (and trust me, this fic delivers everything about them in spades), I cheered so hard for Celeborn in this. The dynamic between him and Gal was just as spectacular as the undeniable spark between Gal and Sauron. Instant classic, indeed.

Complete, Mature

Read the story.

Follow the author on Twitter and AO3.

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The AU You Need to Immerse Yourself In Because, Well, Wow: Widowmaker by @mzladybird

What you need to know going in:

Still shaking myself after reading this fic. 🔥 This AU sees a young Galadriel in a very rural Maine in the 1870s, helping her family run a general store. It’s there that she first meets (and catches the eye of) Halbrand, a rough, quiet logger. After their first meeting, he returns annually… and the mounting, roiling tension between the two of them is absolutely exquisite; it builds like the clawing cold of winter in your chest, that first bite of bitter chill that burns. In this case, in an excellent way. I don’t want to say too much more, so just trust me and read it! 👌

Explicit, Complete

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

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The Complete But Never Forgotten Masterpiece: now dark, now glittering by @mortaltempless

What you need to know going in:

It’s no secret that I’m a fan of @mortaltempless’ work; I’ve highlighted their work many times here, but this HW fic really hit me; it soothes. In it, Sauron struggles to understand Galadriel as she struggles with waxing and waning depression throughout the Ages they spend ruling together—but tries, genuinely, to help her. This fic works like a balm to the soul for it’s simple beauty and stalwart love in the face of sadness; of longing. It feels very Tolkien in that way, and for it’s emphasis on the healing power of nature. 😍 Be ready to bookmark, because this is one you’ll want to regularly return to for the sheer romance.

Complete, Teen

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

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The WIP That Will Wreck You (In the Best Way): one thing i can’t get enough of ~and~ on begged and borrowed time by @bad-surprise

What you need to know going in:

Am I cheating by mentioning two of @bad-surprise's WIPs? No, because these are my recs and I do what I want. 😆 Keeping it 💯, I honestly couldn’t choose; they’re just both that good! The first, one thing i can’t get enough of, is the Dirty Dancing AU, featuring a mean-ish Halbrand in the role of Johnny and, of course, Gal as Baby. Do I need to say much more aside from these two and the words dirty dancing? 🔥🔥🔥 Better than the movie and it’s not even complete. ☺️ Fic 2, on begged and borrowed time, is another massively compelling AU; in this, we see Galadriel as a gifted tarot reader with a desperate desire to bring her husband, Celeborn, back from the dead… desperate enough to strike a bargain with the Necromancer and her former lover, Halbrand. 👀 Like I said—impossible to pick between these two, because they’re both terrific as hell, and they’re just getting started.

Both WIP, Both Explicit

Read the stories — here and here.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

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The Can't Stop Consuming No Matter What Time It Is Fic: once, i belonged to you (but twice i was free) by @nocaptainonthisship

What you need to know going in:

The dove is very dead in this fic, so fair warning, but it was absolutely one I could not stop consuming (and yes, it’s complete). A dark, delightfully twisted take on a fairytale, Galadriel is a princess locked in a tower with only a brush of memories from a former life, and three regular visitors, each of which have their own… appetites: Halbrand, her captor; Sauron, her besotted beast; and Mairon, her supposed savior. 🥺 Grim and gripping and utterly bewitching, this story is nothing short of striking in its intensity.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

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🤩🤩🤩

Me at all these fics:

Don’t see your story on this list yet? Keyword: yet. Please don’t fret! I can only recommend so many each week, but I am always looking for more stuff to read, share, and generally shower with love, so please feel free to reply with your own fics or your pershaladronal faves. I have plenty more to recommend… ❤️

Until next week!

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yanderemommabean · 2 years

Note

(I saw the Yandere Summoning post and was ~inspired~ A bit long, but I do love my build-ups! Edited version so hopefully I haven't missed anything again.)

How had things turned out like this? You don’t even like the spooky stuff! You hate horror movies, not because you think they’re bad, they just scare you too easily! So taking part in this stupid ritual your friends had cooked up should have had you running for the hills! You had only stuck around to help them figure out the symbolism of the objects they wanted to choose. That was supposed to be it! End of!

But then Pete had started to get spooked, what with the summoning circle made of actual blood- Stuey had some pigs blood that he was going to mix with bait to catch some feral cats in the area, and for fishing apparently. And Lucy had begged you to add something. You still had some swords and stuff in your car from a renaissance fair and since they were using real blood you decided, why not real swords? So you grabbed two and threw on some chains and feathered necklaces that you had bought for yourself, and gifts for others, and then a few other bits and pieces because, hell, why not go the whole nine yards?

So you held Pete’s hand and said the words, and screamed a bit when the candles went out, and the wind howling was definitely freaky, and you had wanted to run out of the room. The hairs on the back of your neck rising and goosebumps everywhere and shivers running up and down your back. Even Lucy and Eden had huddled close as Pete practically climbed into your arms. The ritual finished and everything died down, and someone turned the lights back on. As you wrangled control of your heart-rate, and looked about as you gently put Pete back on his feet.

Nothing had changed, and everyone began to laugh and joke. You rubbed the back of your neck to try and shake the feeling that something was off. You were just spooked, paranoid, and running on fear-induced adrenaline. You’re fine. Your friends are fine. Everything is fine.

You shook your head and headed upstairs to grab some marshmallows and a lighter, deciding to take advantage of everyone's distraction to get yourself a few extra treats before they wandered up and Eden tried to shove a whole bag of giant marshmallows in their mouth again.

You and your friends weren’t the only group here, it’s a popular camping area with a lot of oldey-cabins for big and small groups. Schools, conservationists, holiday-goers, campers, need-a-place-to-stay-after-the-renaissance-fair-goers, and it was even better because this cabin was close to the water and the boat house, and renting had included use of the two in there. You all decided to make a vacation of it, go to the fair and then relax at the cabin for a few days before heading home. It was a larger group than you’re used to, friends and partners and workmates tagging along, with more the merrier and everyone pitching in. So the extra peace was much needed.

As you stacked the wood in the firepit and got it ready to burn, your ears pricked at the sound of whooshing air. Looking up and around trying to spy a bird or something, hopefully one you haven’t accidentally pissed off somehow, you saw nothing but shadows and starlight.

“They owe me a billion muffins for this.” You muttered as you lit the firepit. Sitting back on one of the camper chairs and began the process of roasting sweet fluffy marshmallows, just to the point of them being completely on fire and only blowing it out once they’re completely charred on the outside. The rest of the night goes normally, and once the sugar high dies down, you stumble to your bed to fall asleep as the rest of them either linger or wander to their own bunks. When morning rolls around, you stumble downstairs and shamble to the coffee. Some are already down, and you have no idea how, but good for them. Others start making their way down, and you hum a greeting, not yet capable of actual words.

Throughout breakfast, you can’t help but glance out the windows. Every now and then you swear you see something out of the corner of your eye, or something in the treeline in the distance, or hear a particularly loud splash from the water. A few of your friends look around from where they sit, also feeling a little on edge. Something… doesn’t feel quite right. You all do your best to ignore it, but you have a niggling. If everyone is feeling this, is it paranoia?

After everything is washed, and you all sort out what you want to do, everyone starts to wander off in groups. As you exit the backdoor, you notice that it won’t close properly, and keeps creaking open.

“Hey, Pete, did things get rowdy after I left last night?”

“Not really, why?” He stands next to you as you show him the door, and starts to fiddle with the lock. It won’t click shut, and even when it does, a few shakes of the door make it click back to ‘unlocked’.

“Well, people did get a little drunk. Maybe they were a bit clumsy with the door? It’s probably old and a few heavy handed idiots were its last straw.” You speak up, not all that convinced, but you still send a text to the group chat letting them know that the door is fucked. You and Pete wedge it shut with a piece of wood, at least to keep any critters from sneaking in, and head to catch up with Lucy who went to the boathouse to get the fishing gear.

The three of you have fun, picking a spot a fair distance away so you can all have some peace and quiet and maybe even catch something for dinner. You know Stuey can work miracles with fresh ingredients. There were a few spooks, though, when you felt watched and kept looking over your shoulder, and all three of you heard that ‘whooshing’ sound again but when you looked around there was nothing. Hearing the snaps of branches had you all jumping to your feet, you brandishing your walking stick and Lucy grabbing a knife while Pete hid behind you two. Pete isn’t a fighter, too soft and sweet, and frankly since he’s the one who went to med-school, you want to keep him safe so he can patch you up later.

You decide to go to the treeline, at least, like an idiot in the horror movies that you refuse to watch who dies first. You’re gonna die because you’re an idiot who needs to make sure your friends at least have the chance to run if something jumps out to eat you-

You freeze at a larger black shape, and it takes exactly 0.2 seconds for your brain to tell you it’s a bear. You quickly turn to your group, and gesture to your gear.

“It’s a bear, I think. Time to pack up and head back.” You say in a harsh whisper. You had heard black bears aren’t too dangerous if you leave them alone, but you aren’t taking the chance. Not with how off you feel. Besides, it’s getting towards the afternoon, and with any luck there’ll be some leftover lunch-stuff, or just beg Stuey to make something for them.

The trip back was a bit rushed, but by the time you all got back you were all relaxed and joking about it. You really, really hoped what you saw was a bear.

By the time everything was put away and you were hauling your catch into the kitchen, you felt the mood drop again as you saw one of the other members of the big group walk into the space, looking relieved at the sight of the three of you.

“Oh thank god, we couldn’t get a hold of you guys.”

“We went out fishing, remember? Probably went outside of cell-phone range, this place is pretty hilly” He nodded at Lucy’s reply, and he began to wring his hands.

“Look, this is gonna sound really bad, but we’re trying not to accuse anyone of anything- it’s just. Ugh,” He shook his head, and took a deep breath, “Did any of you go near the cars this morning? Or notice anything weird?”

The three of you exchanged looks, and a feeling of foreboding filled the room. “No. Guys?”

They both echoed your reply, confusion and concern obvious on their faces.

“Ah, shit.” The other guy said, Matt you think his name was.

“What happened to the cars?”

“What didn’t happen to them?” Matt laughed a little, but it sounded strained even to your ears, “Some had punctured tired, others had their steering wheels and wires messed with, some won’t even start, or had the car batteries stolen. One actually had the whole engine removed. At this point we’re trying to mix and match to try and get one car working, but most even got their spare tires messed with, and with so many odd wheel sizes we probably won’t be able to get far anyways.”

During all this, you felt another niggling in the back of your brain. Along with budding panic, but you pushed that aside. Absently grabbing Pete’s hand as you pulled out your phone with your free one, letting Lucy take over the conversation.

No messages. No updates. No signal.

That’s not right. You should at least have a signal in the cabine. You don’t even have the internet right now. No wifi. No nothing.

“There’s no signal, and I’m not getting the internet.” You try to turn your data on, but nothing changes. “Data’s fucked too. Any luck?” The others scramble to get their phones out and check. Within a few seconds Matt is cursing, and runs out to the group outside. Lucy heads to one of the computers, and there’s a slight cheer a minute later.

“We still have a landline!” She called out, tapping away on the computer.

“Send a report to the guys who run this place, or whoever. And a police report.”

“Is that necessary?” Pete asked, looking at you. You grimace, but nod.

“Remember the RP games we play? What do we do when there’s a particularly well-entrenched, heavily fortified enemy base?”

Pete’s eyes widened at that. “We poke holes in their defences, then go for one big strike before they notice or can do anything about it. Then everything falls like dominoes.” He recited, shaking. You hold him, and look around the kitchen. This is a big cabin- hell it’s more a lodge or a holiday house, there are plenty of ways to get in, and more places to hide.

“Lucy!” You call, heading her way and transferring the shaking Pete to her, “I’m calling a group meeting, keep at the computer.” And with that, head outside to the group of arguing adults. You head to your car, and start pulling out weapons.

Stopping on the way back inside, you nudge Stuey with your foot. They look your way and frowned at the sight of you, before turning to the group and letting loose a loud whistle. Everyone quietens down, and with a cheery grin you jerk your head back to the house.

“Meeting inside in thirty seconds, can you make sure the rest of the group attend?” And turn to march with a bundle of weapons and armour. Will it help? Probably not. But it makes you feel better. As you set everything down, Lucy walks in with a grim look, before you can ask she shakes her head. Looks like the landline had been taken out, then. Fuck.

It actually takes a little over a minute, but everyone in the house is crowded in the large living room, people sitting on every available surface to help make room, and also because it’s free sitting space. You’re sitting on one of the large window sills, which is pretty high off the ground actually. You make quick work of laying out the happenings during the day, and the paranoia you felt, the feeling of being watched, the broken door, the fucked up internet, the phone lines -which are not connected to the landline, evidently- and now the cars. You ask if anyone noticed anything else.

Hands go up, and one by one people add to it. Missing items, windows with locks removed, doors in a similar state, someone even mentioned that the motorboat in the boathouse wouldn’t turn on, despite it working fine yesterday.

“What is this, a sick prank?” Stuey asked, a scowl on their face. Their car had been gutted, you remember.

“Could it be one of our neighbours?” Someone asks, and you cross your arms, leaning your shoulder on the window frame and look over your shoulder to the outside. You could see both forest and water, and the nearest house could barely be spotted. Each one was pretty far away, for privacy and noise and all that. There’s very little chance even the nearest house could hear them even if they had a full blown party, so the odds of them doing this because they’re a bunch of pissed off holidayers is unlikely. More likely that they’re just assholes, but honestly you didn’t even know if anyone was staying at the closest houses, and if they were why would they spend so much time and effort to do all this?

“Maybe, maybe not. We got a few hours before nightfall, but trying to hike our way to the nearest town will take most of a day, and I don’t want to risk whoever is fucking with us to catch us in the dark. Any volunteers to head to the nearest houses? Maybe they’re having similar problems, and if not… well. If the place is empty we can probably go to those places instead of staying here with all the broken locks and shit.” You run your hand through your hair, pushing away the building panic in your head. Jesus, what were you even doing?

Stuey organises two teams of three to head in opposite directions of the shoreline, Pete mentions that they have a generator and battery, so the house should be okay for power, but he still heads out to make sure it hasn’t been sabotaged either. Some others talk about the boat, and head out to see if they can’t figure out a way to fix it.

Lucy is grabbing your hand, squeezing it in comfort, before heading upstairs to start barricading windows and doors with the last of the group. Stuey heads to the kitchen to cook up a feast, joking that if it’s gonna be their last meal, might as well make it good.

You drop from the window, wringing your hands and wiping them on your thighs, feeling restless but unsure what to do. Looking down at the weapons you gathered, you head outside to grab whatever else is in the cars.

When you step outside, however, hairs rise on the back of your neck and you immediately throw yourself back and slam the door closed. You hear that ‘whooshing’ sound again and you’re gasping for breath. What the fuck was that? Pressing your back to the door, clutching at your chest. Hands at your shoulders make you lash out, slapping them away and trying to stand but your eyes cloud over as the world tilts.

You’re lowered gently to the floor instead of dropping, knees tucked underneath you, and you look up to see Stuey staring at you with concern. They’re saying something, but you can’t- it’s not- you can’t. They make you stare at their chest, a hand on their sternum, exaggerated, slow breaths, further emphasised by the movement of their hand, and you get the idea. Breathe. Breathe.

You follow the rhythm, and eventually find yourself back in your body. Sitting back, you lean against the door and nod.

“Sorry. I stepped outside and…” They nodded, no judgement, before standing and checking the windows.

“Don’t see anything. Maybe a good idea- did you leave your door open?” They ask, and you scramble to look out the window. Your car side door, and the back, are wide open. With a curse, you rush out the door and to the cars. Risky and stupid? Yes. But you need to know.

When you look inside, you’re cursing up a storm. From car to car you check, and by the time you head back inside you’re fighting the urge to destroy something.

“Fuckers stole everything! Our gear, weapons, even our damn banner!” You spit, sitting heavily at the kitchen counter where Stuey had retreated after the first bout of swears.

“So, that’s all we have?” They nodded to the lounge room. Half a dozen swords, two unstrung bows, the top half of some armour, and a few arrows. That’s not enough, but it’s better than nothing.

You nod as Stuey puts a steaming mug in front of you. You sip it only because you need something to do, and you can’t down it like a shot. That would hurt like a bitch. You decide to help in the kitchen, cutting and stirring, whisking and whatever else was needed. It was something to do, and was better than just sitting there, waiting for the others to come back or for something else to go wrong.

One group comes back, and says that there was no one at the house, but it looked in a similar condition to theirs, if not worse. Another thirty minutes go by, and the other group is running through the door, looking sick and pale.

“The other- fuck! The people there, they were…” They try to speak, bent over and gasping for breath. “They’re dead! Shit! It was… god, there was so much blood every-everywhere. I- I think someone's arm was on the fan, jesus. I can’t-” They quickly stumbled to a bin and began heaving, shaking and sobbing.

“Well. Fuck.” You say quietly, feeling cold seep into you. “Right. Okay.” You grab a glass and fill it with water, and some crackers. Setting them aside, you kneel to comfort them. You weren’t super close, but still friends, and you hated seeing them like this.

Water and snacks later, you send them up to rest. And go report the news to the others. The boat is a lost cause, and while the electricity is working, the whole access panel is outside and tucked away somewhere that is full of corners and shadows. Why it isn’t in the garage or anything is beyond you, but you don’t dwell on it. You fit one of the guys with the armour, as they know how to move in it best. Others grab the swords, string the bows and share the arrows, while everyone else grabs knives, screwdrivers, whatever they can. Come daylight, they’ll make a break for it.

Night falls, everyone enjoys their meal in relative silence. It’s mostly defiance for you. You’re not letting these sick fucks ruin a good meal, and you talk about the duel that Pete won at the fair, and how the other guy had been such a dick before the match. The others, thankfully, joined in. Some stayed quiet, but listened. Some headed off rest as soon as dinner wrapped up, others lingered, or wandered throughout the house to man their posts.

The house was big, so they had taken the mattresses down to the living room and created a large sleeping area and blocked off the top floor entirely as best they could. Whatever rooms they didn’t need were also blocked off, essentially giving them only the kitchen, bathroom, entryway and lounge room to guard, everyone paired was put in groups of two or three, no one was to be left alone. One half of the group would be on watch for half the night, then would begin to rotate out for the other half. You had opted for the first shift, figuring you wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways, and hopefully by the end you’d be tired enough to fall asleep at least for an hour or two.

It began half an hour before rotation was scheduled, when there was noise above them. A heavy ‘thump’. Then sounds outside, movement, and then a howl of all things! Long and low and loud. It sent shivers down your spine, and you gripped your sword.

A knock had you stifling a scream, and you were glad you weren’t the only one who let out a scared sound, as you turned to the door. You stared at the door, uncomprehending, as another light set of knocks echoed through the house. A nudge had her turning, and Lucy nodded to the door, then the stairs. You nodded in reply, and got the attention of another pair. You gestured to the stairs, and they gave shaky nods. Moving up with slow, quiet steps, until they were out of sight.

You stepped towards the door, then froze. More knocking, still polite and light, and you took more. Step, breathe, step, breathe. That’s how you got to the door. Without really knowing what to do, unable to bring yourself to speak, and not insane enough to actually open the door, you knock back. Thrice. Quick and clear.

“He-hello?” Pete spoke up, barely a wisp of a noise, and he cleared his throat before speaking louder, “Hello?” He was shaking like a leaf, and his voice was weak but could be heard clearly. Better than what you could do.

“Is there a Lucy present? I received a report about some kind of disturbance?” There was a melodic voice, muffled from the door, that reached them. It was foriegn, unfamiliar, and despite its soothing tone it made you tense up.

You held up a hand before Lucy could open her mouth, “That depends,” You say, stepping up to the door and bracing it slightly, your hunting sword clasped in one hand while the other pressed to the door by the handle. “Who are you?”

“Oh, where are my manners? You may call me Theophania, may I have yours?” The voice was sweet, cool and light and you didn’t trust it one bit. Plus, that bit about ‘may I have yours’ made something in you lurch uncomfortably. You remember all those stories about how names have power, and giving your name gives others power over you.

“You may not have my name, but you may call me Alex.” There. Neutral, polite, and vague enough to limit clues on your identity. You don’t know how much this… person might know, but you don’t want to risk giving them more than they may already have.

“Ooh, clever. I can see why they like you. I understand you are likely a friend of hers, and are only trying to protect her and each other. I can’t fault you for that, in fact I find it commendable. Trying to protect each other, but there’s nothing to fear. We’re here now. I promise you no harm will come to dear Lucy, that’s the last thing I want. So, won’t you send her out, please?”

You mind whirled with questions, but you bit them back and took a deep breath. “You’ve given me a name, but you haven’t told me who you are, only what you’re after. Why her?” And what will happen to the rest of us?

“Would you believe me if I said I’m here to help? Lucy, mostly, but the rest of you as well? None of these people I particularly wish to make enemies of, you know?”

“No, I’m afraid I wouldn’t believe you. You mentioned a report, but the internet cut before it could be sent.” You paused as terror gripped you. “What do you mean, ‘these people’? How many of you are there?”

“Oh, darling, there’s only one of me. But the rest of us?” There was a chuckle, “Looks like you’re about to meet some of them, don’t hold their impatience against them, they’re just eager is all.”

You turned, and saw red eyes fill one of the windows on the far side of the house and everyone was currently focused on the front door!

“Behind-!” Glass shattered, and there was screaming and crashing and running. Between one blink and the next, you were running into the woods. Weapon lost -you had thrown it at something that lept for Pete- and both hands dragging your friends along. You should have all taken your chance with heading for town when you had the chance, now you had to hope that everyone and everything had converged on the house, and that the shadows of the forest would give you enough cover to escape.

The house was mostly out of sight when the ground shifted under them, breaking through dirt and stone. Large roots were upheaved causing them to stumble and fall. By the time you stood, something rope-like came from the darkness to wrap around Lucy. You saw her wide, terrified eyes, saw her reach for you, before she was pulled away screaming, too fast for you to follow and within seconds she vanished. You couldn’t even hear her screams. Or had they been cut off? Was she dead?

You moved to Pete, and forced him to stand and pushed him to keep running. Tears blurred your vision but you didn’t care. Lucy was lost, you had to take care of Pete.

“No! No! What about Lucy? We have to go back for her!”

“I know! But we can’t! We-” You bit back a sob, refusing to break right now, “We don’t know where she was taken, or how many there are, or if she’s even-”

“Don’t say it!” Pete sobbed as he took stumbling steps to where Lucy had gone. You followed a few feet behind. “We have to make sure! We have to save her. She would do the same for us, you know she would!”

“She would have thrown you over your shoulder and started running as fast as she could.” You shot back, but there was no heat, only fear and panic and worry and not wanting to lose another friend. “They may keep her alive for a while, they wouldn’t put so much effort to just kill everyone. If we run for town we might be able to get help, that’ll give her- give everyone a better chance.” You don’t know that. You’re basically lying through your teeth. You hope but daren’t believe. Pete is shaking his head.

“You go. I won’t leave!” He turned and bolted, and you cursed. Pete was a fast little shit when he wanted to be, and you shot after him.

You don’t make it far before you hear a howl, only this one is much, much closer. Skidding to a halt, you call for Pete, only to see a huge dark shape descend upon him. It’s horrifyingly familiar as you see bright eyes and glinting teeth but it’s not a bear but it’s not anything you’ve seen except- except- except.

Pete is thrashing and screaming, the beast is growling and you swear you hear it whining as it bundles up its prize. You make it a single step before it leaps into the trees, vanishing into the darkness like Lucy, though Pete’s screams echo for a lot longer. Your hand is up, halfway to reaching for him.

That. Was that a… you can’t bring yourself to admit it. But still. It looked like a werewolf. And it took Pete. Sweet, gentle, Pete who was braver and stronger than most gave him credit for. And Lucy, supportive and kind and fiery in her own way.

You choke as you realise you left Stuey behind. He had been behind you, you think. Running for the back door, and had only taken a few steps before something grabbed him and then… then just vanished. Glowing red eyes and a hissing noise and Stuey’s broken cry for them to run- dear god. Had that been a vampire?

And- and the one at the door. The way they talked. Fairy? Fae? Something? Oh god. What was happening. These things weren’t real. Shouldn’t be real. Couldn’t be real. Yet. And yet.

You stood in the middle of the forest, it was eerily quiet. Except for your own breathing. Christ. You needed to breathe, slowly, and calm down. Just, calm down. You can do this. You can make it to town. Tell someone, anyone, though omit some details. You would be labelled insane. Maybe you were. Still.

You turned, and began to jog through the woods. There a bunch of roads around here, if you kept going you could find one, and that would lead you to the main road and you could head to town and-

A familiar sound of something cutting through wind reached her, and before she could even slow down something dropped from the canopy -the sky- directly into her path. Dark wings attached to a large, humanoid shape. Eyes glowing a menacing violet in the darkness. You slid to a quick stop, it was several metres away, so you couldn’t see any real details besides the shape and the eyes. It was just… standing there. Staring at you.

You turn to run the other way, when another body dropped from the heavens, it’s landing lighter than its fellow, but no less powerful or foreboding. This one had wings as well, but these ones glowed in the low moonlight, and as it stood and raised its head to look at you, you saw piercing blue eyes that seemed to be burning with their own light.

You step back, but hit something before you can turn. There wasn’t anything behind you before. You feel your heart stutter when warm arms wrap around your waist, pinning your arms to your side before you can begin to struggle.

“Shh… Shh… you’re okay. You’re safe now.” A voice whispered, masculine and low and, in any other situation would have been incredibly soothing. However, it currently only terrifies you more.

“No! No! Get off! Let me go, please!” But their -his- grip only tightens, and his face burrows into the side of your neck. You feel more than hear him inhale, and he shudders. His wings flaring and ruffling in the corner of your eye.

“Don’t be afraid.” Warm, almost burning, hands cup your cheeks and turn your face up. You’re forced to stare into bright, burning blue eyes set in a handsome face. He smiles down at you, but you can’t tell much else in the darkness. “We would never hurt you. We’re sorry it took so long to find you, you must have been so scared.” His tone is reverent and regretful all at once.

“Those fools were meant to help us, but of course they took their chance to grab what they wanted and leave.” The other spoke, irritated, retreating from your neck enough to kiss along your temple, before resting his cheek against your hair, “Though I can’t blame them, I would’ve done the same.”

“The others-? My friends! Please, are they okay?” You speak through your terror, struggling a little. You know it’s futile, you’re exhausted and they’re clearly stronger than you. Still, you try. You have to try.

“They’re safe, my love, you needn’t worry. They’ve likely never been better.” The one in front of you speaks, voice light and soft, but you’d be an idiot to miss the power there as well. As though what he spoke was written as truth never to be contested.

“What’s going on? Why did you…?” You couldn’t bring it to say it. Nor how to say it. What exactly were they doing besides traumatising you right now?

“Don’t you remember?” The light one asks, sounding surprised and hurt. “You called us here, you brought us out of our hell, imprisoned and separated. Perhaps we’ve been forgiven for our transgressions, but I will not question this blessing.” His hands began to wander, trailing along your neck and collarbone, up and down your arms, any exposed skin that he can reach.

“Who would have thought, after all those centuries of being deprived of everything, we would be rewarded with our missing piece? Our perfect match, the miracle that saved us.” The dark one rambled on, delighted and sounding a little delirious. “Oh, we’re going to love you so much. Just give us some time, love, we’ll have everything set up and perfect.”

“What set up?” You’re scared to ask, but you need to know.

They both laugh lightly at that, and you feel warm lips on your forehead and another set on the back of your neck. One of your hands is taken, practically swallowed by the larger beings.

“Our home, of course. You’re new home.” They spoke. There was more touching, more petting, and you tried to wiggle away but their holds were unyielding. They didn’t seem to notice.

“It needs a little work, but our friends have been taking care of it for us. Please be patient with us, and once we’re done, we’ll show you how thankful we are.” The light one pulled away enough to pick you up bridal style, the dark one dropping his arms to allow it. You wanted to fight, but fear and exhaustion kept you still as much as their own strength did.

“We’ll take good care of you. We love you so much. You’ll love your new life with us, I promise.” Knuckles caressed your cheek, and you looked into violet eyes, feeling sleep tug at you. You didn’t fight it. It was all too much and you didn’t want to deal with all this at once. You think maybe you were in shock. You let your eyes slip close, her head resting against a warm shoulder, and drifted away into blissful unconsciousness.

“We promise.”

(Done! Hope y'all enjoyed the read!)

Well done bean! 100/10!

-Mommabean

#Bean fics #mommabean #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #bean creations

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java-dragon · 6 months

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Bookbinding for Beginners by a Beginner part 4- Quarto Edition

SO QUARTOS! I've mentioned them a few times between 1 - 3 posts. So let me just jump into Quarto before I get into "Now I have this neat-o type faced document that I have split off... so what do I do now o' gremlin writing these posts???

I believe in being a tease sometimes, plus if I don't do it now while I'm remembering shit I won't do it.

ONWARD!

SO What is a quarto?

Well a Folio is 4 pages per one sheet of 8.5 x 11 paper.

A Quarto is 8 pages per one sheet of 8.5 x 11 paper.

And these things will BREAK you if you don't pay attention. Tiny, mighty and o-so-sweet looking.

Behold a text block I have finished up with end pages tacked on but this is 8.5 x 5x5 on the bottom... on the top? THAT is a quarto... about 5.5 x 4.5

SO what do you do? HOW do you get a quarto?

I will mention again- that this is for fics 50K or less. The sweet spot for me seems to be somewhere around 20-30k or less. But that's just me.

Well like previous go through your formatting as you usually would but for the text body itself the font size will need to be increased. Not unless you enjoy squinting or using Sherlock Holmes' magnifying glass to read. I think you might need serious help but do you boo-boo.

I set my font size for folio around 11 or 12 depending upon my mood. For Quarto? I set the font size to 26 and that's just so it's legible.

I will keep all of the fic info at a smaller font size but that would be 11 or 12 now instead of a font size of 8 or so depending upon how much I'm using from the tags.

But it will be a lot of "See the previous post" for formatting.

The trick is going back to Bookbinder JS if you want to format word to spit out Quarto size- be my guest. I cheat. I choose the path of least resistance and less math you have to deal with.

There will be more mathing involved.

But back to Bookbinder JS:

Paper size and Duplex remains the same.

Page Layout section? Hit "Quarto" and upload your pdf file.

Going down to the signature you can do perfect bound (again paperback) or signatures (for stitched books). I keep to stitched books because honestly it's nice to not rely only on glue to keep your book together. But once again follow your happiness. I'm merely stating opinion. Don't take anything as gospel all I want to do is help people break into bookbinding and fan binding cause once you get the basics down I find it very relaxing.

With that aside out of the way, fiddle with the signature size- the more the signatures the more you're going to have to sew. But if you keep everything together it won't lay nice and neat and look rather bulky. So strike a middle ground.

NOW after you do your print off... you're going to have to fold each page... one by one... twice. You're going to have to play "Line the numbers up with each individual page" for the entirety of that signature. I suggest having the pdf open while you're doing this so you can jigsaw puzzle your way into a text block.

But fold down first, then fold that in half.

By the way I hope you have some sort of cutting mat and ruler and cutting hobby knives by this point cause you're going to have to shave the tops off of the pages so you can open it up and read it like a normal book.

I would only do this if you're like me, and have a fondness for smaller fics that you'd like on your shelf and also have a special breed of self inflicted masochism.

I'm a multi-tool of reasons as to why I've done this. One- I got curious as to how to do this. Two- it's now a hyper fixation and weekender hobby. Three- The sea has called me home and having copies of my favourite stories just sounds like making a boat a home to me. Four- I was born with the "Fuck it how hard can it be?" Gene. Five- that gene is a double edged sword but I'm at least spreading what little I know around for anyone that may wish to teach themselves how to do this.

Once you have everything folded, and trimmed, it's time to put that tiny precious stack of paper into your book press, and you compress it down like it owes you money and think of it as you getting your own back for having to do so much fucking math and folding.

NOW I can start getting into how to make loose pages of folded paper into something resembling a book.

#book binding #book binding for beginner by a beginner #I'm tired of this grandpa #that's too damn bad #the people need to know

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moodymisty · 1 year

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❀ Misty's Follower Milestone Event ❀

EDIT: Event is finished!!! Thank you so much to everyone who's sent requests or kind words, it's been a blast!

Wow guys, thank you!! It means so much to see people enjoying my writing (and my silly chatting), and I hope to continue making you all happy <3 Deciding to come back to tumblr was the best choice I made last year.

I don’t really talk to much about myself on here, but I'll give a tiny bit of backstory. I’ve had this exact same blog since around 2011, it's seen so many fandoms, but I purged it in 2018. After that I completely quit posting online; Until last year when my depression decided to come back hard because of some irl issues, and I ended up going back to Star Wars and Darksiders as a comfort. Posting again was incredibly nerve-wracking as it had been so long since I’d written anything beyond silly personal drabbles, but I’m incredibly happy to see even one person enjoy what I make. I have zero shortage of self doubt for everything I create, but even if it sounds cheesy, nothing makes me happier than knowing something I created has made someone smile.

But wah wah enough sob story, onto the event! A sentence prompts list! I tried to make a good amount of spicy ones, some sfw ones, and even one or two angsty ones. Feel free to take any sentence(s) or prompts from here and send me a character in my ask box! Or multiple, if it strikes your fancy? Any Star Wars or Darksiders character is welcome, and I'm more than happy to stretch my legs and do a character I don’t do as much, or haven’t before.

I'll accept asks for this for around the two weeks or so give or take, so feel free to send something in if you'd like!

(I won’t be using my tag list on these posts just to avoid spam)

All the prompts are under this readmore, to avoid having a super long post.

↳Sentence prompts

“ I can’t stop thinking about you. ”

“ You really need to shave. ”

" I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me. "

" Where do you think you're going? "

“ You should go. ”

“ You have no idea how much I want to kiss you. ”

" Never tease me like that again. "

" Kneel. "

" Sorry, couldn't sleep. "

" I want to do bad things to you. "

" Do whatever you want to me. "

" I want you in my mouth. "

" Quit looking at me like that. I know what that look means. "

“ I just don’t like the way he/she/they look at you, that’s all. ”

“ You don’t own me. ”

" You don't have to be gentle with me. "

" I'd cut out that attitude. "

" I'm not letting you out of my sight. "

" You really want me? "

" I, didn't know you liked that. "

" Ask nicely. "

" I can't stop thinking about you. "

" Want to sleep in my bed tonight? "

" Can you teach me? "

" Keep talking. "

" You look so hot when you do that. "

“ Can you help me? ”

" Um... I'm stuck. "

" Were you crying? "

" I hate you. "

" You're so fucking cute. "

" Why do you never talk to me? "

“ I, I think I’m pregnant. "

" You need to choose. "

“You're shivering... do you want my (clothing here)”

↳Scenario prompts

Needing something off the top shelf and needing to ask for help to get it down

Finding out they have a momento of you somewhere on them they bring everywhere

You or them saying a petname by accident

Soothing you or them after having a nightmare

Caught partly undressed or totally naked

Sharing food

Having to bathe together

Sending or saying something naughty to them during an inopportune moment

Accidental(?) flashing

Stealing a piece of their(your) clothing

Patching them up after a fight

Cuddling up for heat

Making them(you) blush

Giving them a nice (sexy) surprise ;3

Being given/getting flowers

Secret relationship

Reading together

Getting caught/catching them during a 'private' moment

And again, thank you all so much!!!

#mywriting #writing game

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alieinthemorning · 1 year

Text

A Day of Valberries | Diluc Ragnivindr

Content: Fluff, Kissing, Spoilers for Diluc's Birthday Letter (2022), Suggestive

Pronouns: None

Reblog: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

Original Work: Valberry Kisses | Diluc Ragivindr

Spring was one of your favorite seasons for two reasons.

First, Valberries, your absolute favorite fruit, were finally in season

And two, it was your beloved’s season of birth.

So, being the ever so wonderful partner that you were, you decided to bake him a cake (with the help of Adelinde to avoid similar mishaps from prior special events).

Surprisingly enough, you hadn’t seen the birthday at all today, but he wouldn’t be the ever elusive wine tycoon if you had.

Oh well.

There was a cooled cake that needed to be frosted before you.

Nothing too exciting, a simple white frosting with a simple scallop border.

Just as you placed the cake in the fridge, the kitchen door opened.

As you turned kiss was pressed to your temple and a murmur of:

“I’m home.”

You guided his lips toward your own, a more loving greeting.

He pulled away, he turned quickly, but you still caught a glimpse of his flushed cheeks.

You followed him to your bedroom, helping him remove the worries of today for the calm of tonight.

After a long bath and a bit of cuddles, dinner was read and served by Adelinde.

Perfection as always,

And then came the dessert.

Your valberry cake was sliced and served alongside

sparkling valberry juice.

“It looks like we both had the same idea.” You said after a moment.

He chuckled. “Valeberries are your favorite after all.”

You huffed with a pout, “But today is your special day.”

“A day in which I can choose how to spend it.”

“And you chose to gather valberries for me.”

“I chose to prepare something special for my beloved.” He clarified. “The cake is delicious by the way.”

You sighed dramatically as you stood from your seat. “Well now I have to give you something extra special.”

You slipped into Diluc’s lap, hands finding purchase in his crimson locks.

His hands found themselves on your hips, already rubbing small circles with his thumbs. “And what might that be?”

“Mayhaps a kiss or two?”

You leaned down, lips connecting in a soft yet passionate kiss.

He tasted heavily of the valberries but still had the familiar hint of small lamp grass.

He pulled back just enough to ask, “How about four and more?”

Who were you to deny your significant other on their special day?

You would give him everything he asked for

and more.

Initial Note: Happy birthday to the man who took a whole ass year to come home! I literally just got Diluc on March 8th, 2022. tbh I kinda forgot about his birthday until I seen it trending on Twitter so-. Here ya go lmao!

....

I'm cheating and posting this on his birthday in 2023 lol

Also I got Wolf's Gravestone, so i guess I gotta build him, huh?

By the way, I've gone through and edited a lot of my works on AO3, so go give those a look.

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #diluc x reader #genshin x reader #diluc birthday 2023 #genshin impact reader insert

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wolfjackle-creates · 9 months

Text

Carry On Chapter 1

Fandom: Good Omens

AO3 Link (Locked to logged in users. I have a few invites available on a first-come-first-serve basis if anyone needs one.)

It didn't take as long to edit as I expected! Only the beginning really needed a lot of work.

Summary:

After the garden, the First Family has to find their way in the wider, more dangerous world. But Heaven and Hell aren't ready to leave them alone so Crawly and Aziraphale tag along. When Cain has the idea to sacrifice the best of his harvest to God, Abel also wishes to sacrifice the best of his lambs. God chooses Her favorite and the First Family is left to pick up the pieces as best they can.

Warnings: It's a story of Cain and Abel, discussions of family death, funerals, no happy endings in this chapter. It is critical of the Christian God and blasphemy abounds.

Word Count: 5.7k

-----

Crawly trailed his hands along leaves and flowers as he walked through Cain’s meticulously tended fields. Aziraphale followed a step behind, eyes up as he watched the birds and clouds.

“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” commented Crawly. “Kicked out of their home and they figured out how to make a new one.”

“Indeed. I’m glad they’ve been able to build themselves a small haven in this world.”

Crawly hummed and flexed his toes to feel the carefully tilled dirt between them. Movement up ahead caught his eyes and he grinned. “Cain! Plants behaving for you?”

“You’d better not be planning anything that’ll affect the harvest,” warned Aziraphale.

Cain ignored Aziraphale’s threat and just grinned at them. “Hey, Crawly! This might be my best harvest yet. It’s so plentiful that I want to thank God for giving all of this to us so I’m going through choosing the best of everything that’s ripe to give as a sacrifice.”

“Oh that sounds wonderful!” exclaimed Aziraphale. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve gathered so far?”

Crawly watched in shocked silence as Aziraphale and Cain talked excitedly over the chosen sacrifices until he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “But She didn’t give anything to you! She took it all away. What you have is in spite of Her, not because of Her!”

“A demon like you could never understand.” Aziraphale managed to look down on him despite being in a corporation that was shorter than Crawly’s.

“No, you pompous, self-assured angels could never understand!”

Cain moved to stand between them. “Enough. Crawly, She’s God; She gave us the world. Of course She deserves a sacrifice.”

“See, foul demon, despite your attempts at corruption, the humans won’t be swayed from their love to the Almighty.”

Crawly had long experience in ignoring Aziraphale when he got all sanctimonious and continued to address Cain. “She cursed you and Abel for something your parents did!”

“She let us keep the knowledge of good and evil. She may have exiled us from the garden, but She still gave us the plants and crops and beasts and soil. She made all of this. Mama and Papa think it was worth it and Abel and I agree.”

“She didn’t make shit. We did. The angels! She just picked through for what She liked and had us put those on Earth and threw out everything else.” Some of those discarded projects had been near and dear to him. He’d either worked on them or been friends with those who had. But they’d been shoved into storage closets and closed off rooms in the Halls of Creation, never to be seen again. Even talking about them became taboo after a time.

Aziraphale shifted to glare at Crawly around Cain. “And She made all of us! Therefore, everything that exists comes from her.”

“Just because She made me doesn’t mean She gets…”

“Enough!” interrupted Cain. “As interesting as it is to watch the two of you debate, it’s pointless here. Crawly, it doesn’t matter if God made everything herself, or if She only decided what was best to put on Earth. She still gave all of this to us. And I want to thank her for it. You won’t change my mind.”

“Fine, fine. Whatever. Waste your food. No skin off my back.” He could at least send a report to Hell to say he was trying to prevent a sacrifice from making its way to God. He had no idea if it would be enough, but his position on Earth was probationary until Hell decided whether or not it was worth keeping a permanent field agent. And he wanted, more than anything, to stay on Earth.

Aziraphale couldn’t resist getting in one last word and said, “Paying homage to the Almighty could hardly be a waste.”

Crawly rolled his eyes and hissed in frustration before leaving as Cain returned to his fields. Why did God get their undying devotion after She was the one to punish them for learning? And why was learning such a big deal anyway? He sighed and pushed the thoughts from his head. He’d already spent two decades questioning it to no end.

Instead, he decided to check on Abel. Crawly let out one set of wings and launched into the air. Abel would be in the grassy plains tending his herds and it was far quicker to fly there than to walk. He flew until he was past Cain’s fields and grass spread out for leagues. There Abel sat and watched his sheep. Crawly let out a loud whistle to get the boy’s attention.

Abel looked up and waved his staff in greeting. “Crawly! Hi!”

Even after two decades with these humans, Crawly was still surprised by how they legitimately seemed to enjoy his company. No one in Hell liked each other. And while he’d had friends and siblings in Heaven, he’d been so busy that no one stopped him just because they wanted to spend time with him. Yet these humans actually wanted him around. “Abel!” Crawly landed and sprawled on the ground next to the man. “How’re the sheep today? Any of them try and kill themselves yet?” So far, Abel had lost three of the beasts when they did something stupid and died.

“No, praise the Lord—” he tipped his head back and looked to the sky, clasping his hands at the brief prayer— “they’re all doing well. Cain had the idea to give God a sacrifice and I’m going to do the same. I’m just trying to decide which of my lambs are the strongest so I can give Her the best.”

Crawly groaned and rubbed his hand down his face. “Not you, too. I was just talking to your brother. God doesn’t need your sacrifice. Dead lambs won’t help Her in any way. But you could use the wool when they’re older. And the leather. Hell, if you’d finally give in and eat meat, which I’ve told you is fine, you could even get food from them!”

“God gave us the plants for food; we don’t need to eat animals as well. And I know She doesn’t need the sacrifice. That’s why I want to give it to Her. It’s a hardship on my part to show my devotion. Everything we have is because of Her. I can at least acknowledge that.”

“Everything you have is because you worked hard.” Crawly gestured to the animals grazing around them. “You gathered and raised these beasts. You kept them alive all winter and helped them deliver their young come spring. You’ve done that. Not God. No need to give Her more credit than She’s due.”

“I know you’ve your own history with God, but you won’t be able to convince me not to do this. Mama and Papa also think it’s a good idea.”

Before Crawly could respond, Aziraphale landed next to them. “I should’ve known,” he said, glaring at the demon. “After you failed at tempting Cain, you decided to try your luck with Abel.”

Crawly hissed in frustration. “It’s not like that. I just think they need the food and wool and leather more than Her! It’s not like She can eat it or anything!”

“That’s not the point of a sacrifice,” retorted Aziraphale.

“Aziraphale’s right, Crawly,” said Abel. “A sacrifice is us giving up something that we could use in order to acknowledge everything that has been handed to us.”

Crawly sat up in frustration. “Can’t you see? She’s turned her back on you! She doesn’t deserve your devotion or sacrifice after that!” Crawly threw his hands in the air. Why did none of the humans understand it? He hated seeing them chase after Mo- God. Once, before time, he’d been just the same. He just wanted to spare them the pain of learning better the same way he did.

“You know that’s not what happened!” argued Aziraphale.

“Isssn’t it?” hissed Crawly, teeth bared. He wasn’t even sure if he was talking about Adam and Eve or the Fall anymore, but the anger boiled in his chest.

“Stop it! Both of you!” interjected Abel. “That’s enough. You know we like having both of you around, but the rules are that you’re both welcome here so long as you don’t let your enmity get out of hand.”

Aziraphale collected himself first, sure in his own righteousness. “Of course, Abel. I apologize for my part in the disagreement.”

“Disssagreement, right,” said Crawly, not holding back on the sarcasm. “Look, Abel, do what you want. But while I may be a demon, I won’t help you kill any of your lambs. Your sacrifice, your kill.”

“Of course. I’d never have expected differently.”

Crawly nodded once before opening his wings and taking off. Some time alone would help him calm down.

---

Within a few days, the boys’ sacrifices were prepared. Cain spent hours agonizing over his selection until he was finally satisfied he’d selected the absolute best of his harvest. Abel spent just as much time second guessing which lamb he’d send to God.

While they were figuring out the details of their offerings, Crawly and Aziraphale had agreed to a truce. Temporary, as Aziraphale constantly felt the need to add. Their constant bickering about God’s nature and goodness had escalated until Eve was forced to set an ultimatum: get along or they both would be sent away until after the sacrifices had been completed.

Cain and Abel had decided on giving the sacrifices atop a tall hill near their home. Crawly sat on the ground close enough he could see the foolish men, but not near enough to hear them. A quiet cough by his shoulder got his attention and he looked over to see Eve. He nodded in greeting, but didn’t say anything.

“They’re nearly done.”

Crawly stood languidly and cracked his spine. “Then I’ll be gone. Can you make sure I’ve got at least five minutes to get away? I’d like to be far enough that Moth… That She won’t notice my presence. Or at least won’t bother to seek me out.”

Eve grinned. “You’ll have more than that. By almost done, I expect it to take another half hour or so. But you’ve been clear about your plans so I wanted to warn you.”

“Appreciate it.” With a last wave, he released a pair of wings and flew off. He was planning on hiding out in a small corpse of trees somewhat close by. As soon as he set down, he began pacing among the trees. This would be the closest he’d been to Her since before his Fall.

“Pull yourself together, it’ll be fine. The Humans are her favorite, remember.”

He continued to pace, unable to stop moving, until a prickly sensation on the wrong side of painful crawled over his skin—it felt like he was walking through brambles. The boys must’ve finally summoned Her to give their offerings. He grit his teeth against the pain and transformed into his snake form, hoping his scales would offer some protection against the Holiness infusing the air.

It didn’t help and he burrowed under the surrounding vegetation, trying to put as much of a physical barrier between them as he could. The sensation eased up somewhat, but it was still an extremely uncomfortable wait. Finally, after what seemed to be hours, the sensation faded.

He gave himself a minute to catch his breath and make sure She wouldn’t return before moving from his hiding place and transforming back into a human corporation. He brushed off any leaves that dared cling to him and launched into the air to return to the First Family.

When he got to the site of the sacrifice, however, he knew something had gone wrong. Eve was wrapped in Adam’s arms and crying into his chest and Aziraphale was looking on, wringing his hands and trying to offer consolations he clearly didn’t understand or believe.

Crawly landed. “What happened?”

Adam looked over and twitched his lips up in a mirthless smile in greeting. “God accepted Abel’s sacrifice, but refused Cain’s. Then chastised him for being upset. Cain ran off and Abel followed him.”

Crawly let out an angry hiss but didn’t say anything. “What direction did they go? I’ll talk to Cain.”

Adam pointed and Crawly made to follow, but Aziraphale spoke before he could. “I should go with you. Reassure both of them of Heaven’s good will.”

Crawly shook his head. “Absolutely not. That’ll only upset Cain more. As someone She’s already turned her back on, I’ll be the best one to talk to him. He might be more receptive to your messages tomorrow or next week.”

“I suppose you’re right. But you better not use this as an excuse to get him to turn on the Almighty completely!”

“Relax, Angel, I’m just going to make sure he’s okay.” He didn’t wait for any further delays and immediately took back to the skies and flew in the direction Adam indicated.

It wasn’t long before he saw the two. They were standing near the edge of Cain’s fields. It looked like Cain had tried to destroy part of his harvest before Abel got to him, but now he was leaving the plants alone in favor of arguing with his brother. Crawly couldn’t hear more than indistinct shouting. But then Cain shoving Abel who fell backwards Crawly pushed himself faster.

Abel didn’t move and a moment later Cain was kneeling by his side.

“What happened?” Crawly yelled as soon as he was in range.

Cain was too busy crying to his brother to respond. “Abel! Abel, please get up! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Crawly was finally close enough to see. When Cain had pushed his brother, Abel hit his head on a rock. Blood gushed from the wound. “Back up! Let me look!”

Crawly might have been a fixture in the Halls of Creation, but he’d been made a Healer first and foremost. He’d be able to fix anything so long as Abel wasn’t yet dead. Placing his hands on either side of Abel’s head, he sank his power into the man’s body to see what was wrong: a fractured skull and bleeding in the brain. He muttered a curse and directed his power to repair the blood vessels and bone.

Only for the stench of burning flesh to fill the air. Cain threw up, and Crawly gagged before he managed to turn off his olfactory nerves.

And then he was aware of another near them. Not Aziraphale or any of the humans, but Azrael, the angel of death. Crawly looked up, Azrael was cloaked in their dark robed, hood pulled over their head and face obscured except for burning lights where the eyes would be on a human.

“Please, don’t,” begged Crawly.

Azrael waved one bone-white hand and time slowed to a stop. “You know it’s not my choice, Raph-”

“Don’t call me that! It’s Crawly now.”

“That name doesn’t suit you, brother.” Azrael lowered their hood, revealing pale skin and black eyes, the opposite appearance of their hooded self.

Crawly shrugged. “It’s the only one I have anymore. Please, don’t take Abel. He doesn’t deserve to die. Not yet.”

“Most who have come to me don’t. But we don’t make that choice.”

“What went wrong? Why wasn’t I able to heal him?”

Azrael’s head dipped in their brother’s direction and they laid a hand on his shoulder. Their expression was regretful. “Demons can’t heal.”

Crawly stared at them gaping for a moment. “No. No! That’s not! I can’t…? No. Please…” he begged.

Azrael knelt besides Crawly and pulled him into a hug. Crawly grasped him back and tried not to sob into his sibling’s shoulder. But they could only put off the inevitable for so long. Azrael pulled away. “I’m sorry,” they whispered as they reached beyond Crawly to gather Abel’s soul.

And then both were gone and time restarted around them. Abel was dead.

Crawly pulled away from the body, his wings limp in the dirt, and stared at his blood covered hands. Was it true? Would he truly never be able to heal again? Just because he dared to question Her plans? Because he expected Her to be more just and kind?

Cain was back at his brother’s side, grasping Abel’s hand. “No. Please. Please wake up. Abel. I love you. I’m sorry. Please. Get up. Get up!”

Crawly felt numb but shook himself. Cain was still alive and that took priority. He wiped his hands on his robes and rested one on the man’s shoulder. “Cain. Let go. He can’t hear you. He’s gone.”

“No! No! He can’t be! He’ll wake up! He has to! He has to…” His pleading tapered off into sobbing and Crawly tried to pull him in for a hug when divinity filled the air for the second time that day.

Crawly screamed in pain as he crawled backwards, trying to get away from the overwhelming sense of Holiness.

“Where is your brother Abel?” asked God.

Crawly screamed louder and slammed his hands over his ears at Her voice; blood and black ichor leaked over his fingers and all he could hear was ringing. It seemed an eternity before She withdrew. Crawly had collapsed in the dirt and was gasping for air as the world around him slowly came back into focus. He closed his eyes and tried to figure out if his ears were permanently damaged or not, but already sounds from the world around were starting to filter in. The first thing he could recognize was Cain’s cries.

Crawly ground his teeth and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, still breathing hard. It took a monumental effort, but he managed to get himself upright, wiped his hands clean on his robes again, and stumbled his way over to Cain. “Cain, what did She say? Her voice… It hurt. I couldn’t listen.” He collapsed back to his knees behind the man.

Cain had his knees pulled up and his face hidden in them, though he was clearly still crying. Crawly reached out a hand to touch his shoulder and the man jerked away. Crawly yanked his hand back. Cain tried to catch his breath. “She… I’m banished. C-can never come b-back.”

Crawly hissed, his incisors lengthening somewhat. Banishment. Of course. She was predictable. Banish the bad angels. Banish the humans from the garden. Banish Cain. He took a deep breath and clenched his fists to stop them shaking. “Cain…” he started, but he had no idea how to finish the sentence.

Cain shook his head. “I can’t grow plants anymore. And I have to wander for the rest of my life. No one will be able to kill me.”

Crawly felt his fangs lengthen and scales manifest over his back and down his arms and legs. He hissed again. So She had gotten more creative this time. Cain flinched at his hissing, and Crawly forced himself to stop. He closed his eyes and focused until his incisors shrank to just barely larger than a human’s and his tongue widened and the tip merged. He forced the scales back until none extended past the edges of his robes. “Sorry,” it took every bit of restraint he’d learned in Hell to keep the ‘s’ short. “It’s not right or fair what She’s doing.”

Cain was shaking back and forth. “No, it is. I k- I killed Abel. I’ll never make up for that. I don’t even know how. He’s my brother. Was. Was my brother. Wh-where do I even go from here? What do I do? Mom and dad. How can I face them again?”

Crawly opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He had nothing to say to that. Instead, he reached for the distraught man and pulled him close. Cain fisted his hands in his robes as sobs overtook him once more.

He was just starting to get himself under control when Crawly saw Adam, Eve, and Aziraphale approaching. Cain must have noticed some change in the demon because he looked up. His dark skin took on a yellowish tint and his eyes went wide. He backed away from Crawly and turned around so he wouldn’t have to see his parents.

And that was when Adam and Eve must have noticed Abel, because they started sprinting towards the group and Crawly could hear their distressed cries. Both fell to their knees by their son’s body, and Eve gripped Abel’s hand. “Abel? Abel! Wake up!”

Adam wrapped his hands around his wife, already crying. He closed his eyes and tucked his face into her neck, shoulders shaking. Aziraphale stood behind them, his hands over his mouth and eyes wide.

“What happened?” asked the angel.

Eve stopped begging Abel to wake up and she and Adam looked up at Crawly, silently begging him to make it better.

Haltingly, Crawly explained. “They were arguing when I approached. Cain, he pushed Abel. Not hard or viciously. But when Abel fell, he… He hit his head. I was too late to stop the injury, but I knew I could…” His throat tightened and he couldn’t look at Adam or Eve anymore. He looked at grass by his knees, eyes unfocused. “I should’ve been able to heal him. I tried, but it… I can’t… It didn’t work. I couldn’t save him. Then God came. I couldn’t hear Her voice. It… hurt. Cain said. He said She banished him. And cursed him to wander for the rest of his days. And he’ll never be able to farm again.”

Eve broke down into loud sobs at the end of his story. “No, no! Not my sons. Not both of them! Lord, please!” she begged through her tears. Adam hugged her close to him, crying himself. Their grief left an acrid taste in the back of Crawly’s mouth.

Aziraphale was silently crying as well. “Did you… Did you really try and heal him?” he asked Crawly.

Crawly looked up, confused. He couldn’t make out what Aziraphale’s expression meant. Grief, of course, but something else was there, too. “Yeah, of course. Back before… Well, I used to be good at it.”

“I see…” said Aziraphale.

At that moment, Eve broke free from her husband’s arms and rushed to Cain, hugging him tightly from behind. “Please don’t leave. Don’t go.”

Cain just seemed to curl even further in on himself and didn’t respond to his mother’s pleas. Crawly glared at the sky. This was all Her fault. She didn’t have to do any of this. But he didn’t say anything. Nothing would change and it wouldn’t make any of the humans feel better.

Eve was still talking to her son. “I-I’ll make you a bag. Blankets, food, tools. Everything you could need.” She turned to Crawly. “Will you go with him? Please? I can’t… I can’t lose him, too.”

Crawly was already nodding. “I was planning on it. I’ll stay by his side; I promise.”

Aziraphale startled at his statement at stared at him, mouth open. Crawly ignored him. He had no idea what was going on with the angel and now was not the time to try and figure it out.

Adam, still crying, hugged Crawly. “Thank you.”

Eve looked over to Crawly and Aziraphale, still holding onto her remaining son. “How long before he has to leave?”

Crawly shrugged. “She didn’t say.”

Aziraphale worried at his lip. “Likely by nightfall. That was the order for you and Adam at Eden.”

“If you’ll allow it, I’d like to see Abel’s funeral,” said Cain, voice tight with grief and tears.

“Yes, of course you’ll see it,” said Adam as if the idea of anything different was impossible. “Come, we’ll dig the grave together. I think he’d like to be buried in his pastures among his sheep.”

“I’ll help you,” Aziraphale said as he followed them.

Cain stood, hugged his mother, and started walking in the direction of the pastures without another word. Aziraphale collected the body, turning down any assistance from Adam, and they followed Cain.

Eve looked at Crawly, “Will you help me gather the things he’ll need? I want to give him as much as we can.”

“Of course.”

---

Eve packed and unpacked the bag a dozen times over the next two hours. Crawly tried to help guess what would be most useful for him and Cain. He also made sure the bag would remain light and could hold more than physics should’ve allowed.

At one point, she spotted her bone flute. Adam had carved it for her shortly after they’d left the garden and its music had comforted the First Family for many nights. “Will you take this? And play it for him? So he can remember us and know how much we love him?”

Crawly gently took it from her hands. “I’d be honored to.”

She nodded and returned to packing. It wasn’t until Aziraphale returned to announce the grave was dug and it was time for the funeral for her to admit she’d done all she could.

They started walking towards the designated place and it took a few moments for Crawly to realize Eve wasn’t following. He stopped and looked back to see her frozen to the spot, face pale, and clutching Cain’s bag tightly to her chest.

“I can’t. I can’t go. He’s my son. How can I bury him?”

Aziraphale tried to placate her. “My dear girl, I know it’s hard…”

Crawly, however, just walked over and pulled her into a hug and let her cry into his chest again. “Cain needs you, Eve. Be strong for just another hour or two. Cain needs to know you’ll be okay and once he and I leave, then you can fall apart. Can you do that? Just an hour or two?”

She tried to catch her breath and nodded before loosening her grip and taking a step back. Her face was determined. “Two hours. Yes. I can do that. For Cain.”

Crawly kept his arm around her shoulders as the three made a silent trek to the pasture where Abel was to be buried. Once there, Eve left Crawly’s embrace in favor of her husband and son. Cain stood between his parents as all three cried and leaned on each other.

Aziraphale used a miracle to gently lower Abel’s body into the earth and spoke the eulogy. Neither Adam nor Eve was collected enough to speak and Cain apparently hadn’t spoken a word since asking to be present for the funeral.

In what seemed like no time at all, they were filling the grave back in with dirt. Adam and Eve were telling Abel how much they loved him and would miss him with each handful. Crawly thought he could read apologies on Cain’s lips, but if he spoke aloud, the words were too quiet to be heard. Crawly whispered his own apologies into the grave for his part in the incident. Aziraphale worked in silence.

And then it was all over. As some time still remained before dusk, Crawly and Aziraphale walked a short distance away to give the family some privacy in their last hour together.

“Why did you try to heal him?” asked Aziraphale as they observed the tableau of grief.

“What? I can’t like people just because I’m a demon? I’ve known Abel practically since his birth. I didn’t want him to die.”

“But I can’t imagine Hell would’ve been happy if you’d succeeded.”

Crawly waved a hand in the air. “I would’ve figured something out.”

Aziraphale hummed and Crawly wasn’t sure if he believed him or not. Crawly wasn’t sure if he believed himself either, to be fair. Hell wasn’t big on good deeds.

“Why didn’t She accept Cain’s sacrifice anyway? No one’s said.”

“It seems, as they were presented together, She considered them to be an either-or sacrifice. And Abel’s was more pleasing to Her.”

Crawly’s mouth fell open. “But that makes no sense!”

Aziraphale shrugged. “It is not for us to question the Almighty. I believe you should know that much.”

“She’s a conceited, demanding, mercurial slave-driver who needs to take a step back and think about other people from time to time.”

“How can you say something like that?” demanded Aziraphale, scandalized. “She’s all that is good and just in the universe.”

Crawly scoffed. “Hardly. That’s just a mask she wears to make the angels, and humans now, I guess, do what she says.”

“Well, if that’s how you feel, it’s no wonder She made you Fall.”

Crawly remembered the flash of a sword and the hard shove that preceded an endless Fall and snorted. Her actions may have pushed him away, but She wasn’t responsible for that final push.

Crawly sighed and rested his head in his hands. The scent of burning flesh still clung to the back of his nose and the grief of Abel’s death was too near to want to argue any more. Aziraphale must’ve felt similarly as he made a noise of resignation and settled down with him. The sun made it’s way closer to the horizon. When the shadows were long, the two supernatural beings got up together and made their way to the family.

“It’s time, Cain,” said Crawly, solemnly.

The man let out a sob and hugged his parents tightly before slowly moving away.

“Stay safe,” said Adam.

“Be happy,” added Eve.

Cain said nothing but his gaze lingered on his parents before he turned away and walked into the unknown, Crawly following a step behind.

---

Cain kept walking well past dark. If he tripped or fell, he just pushed himself up and kept walking. He never uttered a single word.

After a few hours, Crawly tried to pass him a waterskin. “Why don’t you have a drink?”

The man ignored it and kept walking.

“Are you hungry? I’ve got plenty of food for you.”

Again, no response.

Crawly could taste the despair wafting off the man and his determined silence was unnerving. Cain was always such a talkative person. Even as a baby, he’d babble at anything that caught his eye. Never had he been silent for more than an hour unless he was sleeping. Even when he was alone working the fields he’d be singing or talking to the plants or something. But now Crawly would be surprised if he’d said more than a few dozen words since God laid down his punishment. “It’s gotten late. We can’t even see where we’re going. Why don’t we settle down here and we can continue in the morning once the sun’s up?”

Cain continued to ignore him, but a few steps later tripped again and fell to his hands and knees. A sob escaped him and suddenly he was crying uncontrollably. Crawly took a blanket out of the bag he was carrying and draped it over the man’s back.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” Crawly said. It was his fault he’d been unable to heal Abel. Cain had barely been around two and a half decades. Lucifer acted more rashly and he’d been the second oldest angel after Azrael.

Cain let out a hysterical laugh. “Whose was it, then?”

“It was an acc—”

“No! I did it! Me! I k… I killed him! My brother! Abel! We’ll nev… Never race or swim in the lake or anything ever again. And its my fault!” He lost his breath in sobs again as he curled up on the ground beneath the blanket.

Crawly really could think of nothing to say to that. Abruptly, he spun on his feet and stomped away from the man. A quick flick of his fingers ensured Cain wouldn’t hear him and he let out a wordless scream and punched a tree. Then he did it again. Over and over until he could feel the blood run down his arms. He collapsed to the ground and held his head in his hands, breathing harshly. He couldn’t fall apart. Cain needed him.

A thump sounded next to him and he looked over to see a stone tablet. A message from Hell. With trembling fingers, he picked it up.

To the demon Crawly, Your efforts to sow discord among the First Family have been noted. Our Lord is very impressed with the results of your labors. We look forward to the day the First Murderer joins our ranks and are already preparing his welcome. Due to your successes in Eden and with Cain, Our Lord has decided to grant your request and has made your position on Earth a permanent one. Continue to promote Hell’s interests or you will be recalled and punished accordingly. Keep up the evil work. Hail Satan, Beelzebub

Crawly stared at the tablet. He scrambled back to his feet, gripping it tightly, and frantically looked around. There! He rushed over to where he could see a boulder sticking up out of the ground and slammed the tablet into the stone. It started to crumble. He repeated the action again and again until he was holding nothing but gravel.

He screamed wordlessly again. “Why did You let this happen?!” he shouted to the sky. “Do You realize how hard Cain worked to get You the best of his harvest? He sacrificed enough food to last them a week! And he did it unprompted! You didn’t ask for it! He did it because he loved You! You could have accepted both offerings. But no, You always have to have Your favorites! Well this time playing those games killed Your favorite! Are You happy now? Cain was upset and pushed his brother. So fucking what?! He wasn’t trying to kill Abel! Anyone could see it was an accident! And if you hadn’t taken my powers away from me I could have fixed him!” His voice broke on the last word. In barely a whisper, he repeated, “I could’ve fixed him.”

Crawly fell to his hands and knees and choked on a sob. Pieces of gravel fell from his hands as he clenched them into fists. His eyes burned, but he bit his tongue and didn’t let a single tear fall.

-----

And that's the end of chapter 1! I'll share chapter 2 in a week. Let me know what you think. This one hit me hard as I wrote it, so I can only hope it holds up as a reader.

#good omens #fanfic #my writing #Crowley #Aziraphale #Cain (good omens)#Adam (good omens)#Eve (good omens)#Abel (good omens)#angst #heavy angst #character death tw

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