#so this is the part where i look at the Asks and hit “fuck it” when it comes to organization for mental health reasons

[jq37]

Your sister who you love so much (even though you’ve never shown it) asks you to be her sister again, her true sister, in deed not just in name. And yes, of course that’s what you want. That’s what you’ve always wanted and now that she’s shattered your defenses and destroyed the ones who would pit you against each other and died right before your eyes, how could you refuse? How could your answer be anything but yes?

So you go home with her, not the ruins of your perfectly posh prison, but a new home which provides love and care and bunk beds and it’s so so nice. Ridiculously nice. Sickeningly nice. And a small, sick part of you almost misses your old home (if you can even call it a home) because yes, it was cruel and awful and you hated every second of it but you knew where you fit. You knew what your role was. You don’t fit in here. Everyone accepts you because they’re all so nice, but they don’t know how to volley back your sharp words or find a hidden, “I love you” within an offhanded insult. 

And then your sister leaves to save the world again because that’s who she is. She’s the kind of person who goes out to save the world with her friends when she’s needed and you’re not. You’re not, not, not. Not on any count. You don’t save things, you destroy them. And friends? You have to allow yourself to be vulnerable for friends so of course that’s out. Your sister is 16 and she’s out saving the world for the third time and you, fully grown at 18, are a wanted criminal who hasn’t even properly graduated from high school. You can’t stop thinking about it and, without your sister and her friends occupying the house as a buffer, the ones who are left try to get you to talk about it so you make a rash decision, as you are wont to do. You leave, like a thief in the night. You can make your own way. You can. You’ll prove it.

You find a shitty apartment and pay for it with the ill-gotten spoils from one of your many exploits. You could probably pawn some treasure for more luxurious  accommodations–there is that chest of rubies just lying around–but you don’t. That’s not what you deserve. And what if your sister needs help later? You don’t have access to your parental funds anymore which means she doesn’t either. You know she won’t ask anyone for help–you wouldn’t. But someone has to look after her. You’re an abjuration wizard. You protect people. You protect her. No, that’s a lie. But you want to make it not a lie. You want to start now.

If you’re saving the rubies then you need a source of income. You narrow down your least villainous talents to try and find a suitable job and hit on teacher. You’re good at magic, right? So how hard can teaching it be? Hopefully not as hard as securing the job, which proves trickier than expected because, oh right, you’re a wanted criminal who hasn’t graduated high school. But you dip into your villainous talents once more and tell yourself it’s for a good cause. You secure the job. You’re doing it. You’re making your own way. 

You want to text your sister to see if she’s doing alright but you don’t want to intrude and you don’t want to answer any questions about what you’ve been doing because then either you’ll have to lie or explain that you’ve left again, right after you promised you’d be there. Both options make your heart ache, especially since it’s her birthday. So you wait until the house is empty (mostly empty–you’re never really alone in a haunted house) and enter the room you and your sister shared for too brief a time. You paint her walls with carefully rendered runes, filled with all your abjuration magic and stamped with your arcane mark. It’s a possessive bit of spellcraft. A selfish claiming of a climactic kill. You mean to make a different kind of claim. You are claiming your sister, as she asked you to months ago. You are telling the world that she will not be fucked with while you live. Your rooms were so close before. You could hear her. You knew every night she went to bed in the grips of a panic attack with no one to console her. She won’t have to feel unsafe in her own room again. You can make sure of that at least. 

The sun rises one morning and you know that means your sister is alive and well and coming home. You teleport to Falinel to make sure she returns to her favorite dessert. It’s worth the spell slot and the chance of being recognized. The tower where they kept you is long destroyed and you know that this time, if you were ever captured or even killed, rescue wouldn’t be measured in a matter of months. It would be days. Hours even if your clever sister and her powerful divination magic put things together faster. The thought fills you with more emotion than you know what to do with. You leave a note. “I love you,” you think. “Enjoy the nemesis ward,” you write. 

Practicing magic, as it turns out, is a very different skill than teaching magic. The children are loud and obnoxious and you don’t quite realize that maybe your expectations are too high between the hothouse you grew up in and your sister being the world’s greatest diviner, fullstop. You know you can always go back to the manor, but that somehow makes it easier to stick it out. You’ve always been taught that pressure provides the best results but there’s something about the security of a safety net that makes everything a bit more bearable. And so what if you have to take a second job involving a light criminal element. You’re only smuggling–that’s barely even a real crime.

Your sister who has saved the world thrice now, texts you and she wants help. She is looking to you for help. And you do your best to oblige. You offer your knowledge, you offer your rubies, you invite her over again and again. She sends you a text and deletes it. You’re not the diviner in the family but you drain your spell slots scrying for information you already know. Information that you'll hear from her own lips in just a few hours. “I love you.”

She finally visits and you’re not unaware of the state of your apartment. You know you’ve been too exhausted for an Unseen Servant or even a round of Prestidigitations but you know that your sister has seen your mind and there’s nothing messier about you than that. She teases you and you tease her back. She’s the only one who understands how to deliver a complement with a backhand so you can receive it without your skin crawling. The only one who knows how much tartness you need with your sweetness. 

Later, she visits again. She sits in your filthy apartment and you watch trash TV and it’s the highlight of your week. Your month even. That should feel pathetic but, somehow it doesn’t. You want to tell her. She deserves to hear it from time to time without having to filter out the layers of prickliness that you add as second nature, a layer of armor as ever present as your abjurer’s ward. You may not be able to handle naked sentiment but she can. You’ve seen her with her friends. How affectionate they are. You’ve always been taught that loose lips sink ships but you have experience with ship sinking and this prospect fills you with much less dread. You tell her and it’s awkward and fumbling but you manage. Maybe loving people isn’t so different from loving cats.

You have a new job which is perfect because the school year is almost over and, blackmail or no, you aren’t sure how many times you’ll be able to get away with casting Sleep on your class to give yourself a break. Honestly, you should have applied for jobs in Leviathan from the start. Why would pirates care about your sketchy history and lack of credentials? You could teleport yourself to Leviathan every day but that would be a waste of a spell slot when the door to Leviathan is right there in the manor (and if your sister happens to be there too then hey, happy coincidence). While you’re there, you might as well do your laundry. And stay for dinner from time to time. And spend time with your sister in your her room where your runes stand sentinel and your old bunk lays untouched. You don’t think you’re staring but later, as you go to grab a snack from the kitchen your sister throws you a casual, over the shoulder glance. 

“You can just move back in, if you want.”

And would it really be that easy? Just like that? After a year of trying to make a point or a plan or a better version of yourself or whatever? Just like that? 

You remember a year ago. You and your sister and words that will be burned into your mind forever. 

“Despite the fact that you have not earned it, I do love you.”

Just like that. 

You say yes. You stay. 

#fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #dimension 20 #d20 #spoilers #aelwyn abernant #you wanna hear something funny? #this was supposed to be a 3 paragraph post tops #I am boo boo the fool #adaine abernant #abernant sisters #i am back on my bullshit

[nadvs]

both sinners (part three) (end)

pairing drugdealer! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug use

summary as a stripper, you’re well aware that someone you know could walk into the club at any moment. when rafe is your newest customer, you’re actually glad to see a familiar face.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You stagger backwards, hitting the table behind you, as you watch what’s happening in front of you in disbelief.

Rafe is crazed, punching the man who touched you over and over and over again.

“What now, bitch?” he shouts over the music. “Try and touch her now!”

One of the bouncers comes rushing towards the booth and holds Rafe back. It’s a struggle, with Rafe overpowering him and getting one more punch in, before a second bouncer helps to constrain him.

You watch them push him away. Rafe looks to meet your eyes, his chest heaving and his mouth ajar, as he gets pushed out of the club.

You blink in incredulity, unsure of what to do, until you finally go backstage into the dressing room to regain your composure.

You’ve never seen someone so angry over something someone else did to you.

You know what happens to guys that get thrown out. Rafe won’t be let back in for at least the night. It’s possible he doesn’t get let in ever again.

You pull your phone out of your locker and text him: i’m off at 11. we can meet somewhere?

You go back out onto the stage, looking for another customer to make your money and try to shake off what just happened, at least for the rest of your shift.

After work, you meet Rafe at the address he texted you after he was kicked out. He booked a room at a five-star hotel.

“You know, you didn’t have to start swinging,” you tell him when he meets you in the lobby, a coy smile on your face. “We have bouncers for that.”

“They’re obviously doing a great fucking job,” he snips sarcastically. “He grabbed you twice.”

“And I slapped him twice,” you reply. He shakes his head in irritation, taking your hand to lead you to the elevators. Thinking about watching you get touched like that makes the anger swirl in him all over again.

“Not hard enough.”

“So protective,” you tease.

Rafe pushes the top button. You smirk. Of course he got the penthouse suite.

“You realize if they remember what you look like, they might never let you back in, right?” you say as the elevator doors close, leaving you completely alone in the enclosed space.

“Strip at another club, then,” he rasps, leaning down and dragging his hand off of yours to squeeze your ass.

“You think it’s that easy?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

“What place wouldn’t want you?” Rafe asks, gripping harder as he pulls you against him, his lips an inch away from yours.

The way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s utterly obsessed with you. It’s addictive.

The elevator doors open and he slaps your ass to usher you out.

The suite he booked is massive, covered in marble surfaces and gold decor. Rafe leads you through the foyer to the bedroom, where the city lights glimmer behind floor-to-ceiling windows. The place is exquisite.

“Couldn’t you have found something nicer, baby?” you joke, turning to look at him.

He scoffs a chuckle as he closes the distance, hands already up your skirt. He’s been turned on since you stepped on stage hours ago, imagining how hard he’s going to fuck you.

Rafe kneads your ass before roughly pulling the skirt up to your waist. He thinks back to the way the sheer fabric of the dress you wore on stage hugged your body under the club’s lights.

“You know what?” he says.

“What?” Your breath hitches as his hand presses up against your middle.

“I’m gonna buy you more of those slutty little outfits.” His voice is low. “So while you’re dancing up there, you think about who bought you what you’re wearing and who fucks you.”

By the way his cock is hardening against you and the way his breath is spreading on your skin in shallow pants, you can tell he gets off on spoiling you.

You lick your lips and tilt your head, nudging your nose against his.

“I’m the only one fucking you, right?” he mutters, his fingers pressing harder. You love how frequently he likes confirming it.

“Why would I need anyone else?” you reply, loving how you can rile him up.

When his fingers spread your lips apart, you exhale shakily.

“Only I can play with this pussy, yeah?” He rubs over your wetness and finds your clit, making your knees weak.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Yes.”

“You gonna dance for me, baby?” Rafe rasps. “I’ll give you more tonight than your customers make in a year.”

You nod, words escaping you. You feel him unzip your skirt, the fabric dropping around your feet. You pull your top over your head, left in just a bra and panties, and his eyes take you in as if it’s the first time he’s seeing you.

“Damn,” he huffs. It’s unbelievable how much you turn him on. The fact that you know how sexy you are, dancing every night for men who you don’t let touch you. Only he can touch you. “How are you real?”

You giggle, regaining some composure.

“Sit down,” you say, looking at the big bed.

“Over there,” Rafe tells you, pulling you to follow him. He takes you to the bathroom, where you spot a baggie of coke beside the jacuzzi.

Once you strip down between hard, wet kisses, you sink into the hot, bubbling water. You straddle him and he gazes at you through heavy lids.

“You want a bump?” Rafe asks, tilting his head towards the coke. He already took a hit before you arrived.

You nod, craving the feeling of elation the coke gives you. He grips your waist with one hand while he reaches for the baggie with the other.

After he makes a line on the edge of the tub for you, you lean over and inhale the powder, giving him an opportunity to palm your tits.

He loves the way your skin glistens from the water as you settle back on his lap. Your head is swimming with euphoria as you kiss him, his fingers rubbing over your nipples. You start to writhe, rolling your hips and giving him a lap dance.

You dip your hand under the water’s surface, gripping his firm length, prompting him to angle his head back with a groan over the sound of the tub’s jets, his voice echoing through the room.

You can’t wait any longer. You perch up to slowly sink onto him, his tip dipping into your entrance.

“Fuck,” Rafe huffs. Your hands are on his shoulders as you take your time, breathing through the pressure of his cock stretching you.

“Good girl,” he groans. “You can take it all. I know you can.”

You bite your lip as you finally reach his base, dizzy from how deep he hits you, enveloped by hot water.

You start to rock on him and his mouth locks around the peak of your breast. He loves the feeling of pure sin while he fucks you, both of you high and rolling.

You rake his hair back, leaning so your chest presses against his forehead as you start to bounce on him, panting in his ear.

Rafe’s hands curve around your ass as you roll on top of him, the water splashing as you quicken your pace. You start moaning and he squeezes you harder, his face contorting in pleasure.

You moan in his ear as you come to a fast orgasm, clenching around him in flutters. He hardens inside of you soon after, cumming in rhythmic throbs.

“Goddamn,” he groans, thinking back to all the parties he noticed you at. “I can’t believe this is what I was missing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know you were this much fun.”

You giggle and the sight of your smile makes him smile back.

“Now you know,” you say with a shrug.

You’re absolutely spent when you lie on the plush bed, body bare and wet, not bothering to cover up with a towel. Rafe loves the sight of you like this and he leans down, smoothing over your cheek with his hand as he kisses you.

“We’re getting room service,” he murmurs. “What do you want?”

“The most expensive thing on the menu,” you joke. He’s unfazed, pacing to the phone surely to order exactly that.

“Wait,” you laugh. “Let me see the menu.”

Half-naked and high, you and Rafe sit on top of the bed, the television on in the background, eating at midnight.

It must be the coke and the sex and the delicious five-star food, but you get the impulse to ask what you’ve been wondering all night.

“We both know you’re the only guy I’m seeing,” you say, “but am I the only girl?”

“Obviously,” he says simply.

“It’s not so obvious,” you say with a laugh.

“Now it is,” Rafe says. You appreciate his direct approach.

“Why do you deal?” you ask. Seeing his house just once would tell anyone he comes from a wealthy family. He doesn’t exactly need to be selling drugs.

Blue eyes meet yours and he smirks.

“Why, you wanna go into business?” he quips.

“I think I make enough dating you,” you respond with a laugh. Rafe likes how exclusive it sounds. Dating. Meaning you’re his only.

“I like making my own money,” he says honestly. “And I like having coke around when I want it.”

“You’re a no bullshit type of guy.” Rafe appreciates the compliment.

“Why do you strip?” he asks.

“Why, you wanna go into business?” you echo.

“Shut the fuck up,” he laughs, nudging you. You decide you’ve eaten enough, letting the gentle push shift you to lie on your back again.

“You’re hot. You’d do great as a stripper,” you tease, raising your arms above your head and sighing. He takes in the vision of you lying like this, relaxed and joking around with him, and he realizes he hasn’t felt this happy in a while.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Rafe says.

“It’s great money,” you reply. “Especially if you have a rich drug dealer obsessed with you. It’s funny because you’re the only customer I’d dance for for free.”

He laughs again and you look over at him, sitting up shirtless, and smile. It feels like something out of a movie. A drug dealer and his stripper girlfriend laughing together in an extravagant hotel room.

Rafe moves the paper containers off the bed and sinks between your legs, laying his head on your chest.

You run your hands over his firm, warm shoulders and sigh at the sensation he gives you. He seems to live for the next 24 hours only, and so do you, and this is why this works so well.

He gives you a wad of cash before you part ways.

Your next shift is a few nights after your time in the hotel and Rafe is relieved the bouncers don’t recognize him. He settles in a cushioned chair in the dark club, knowing if they denied him entry, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and it would get ugly.

His heart skips when you walk out in stage wearing a black lacy set he bought you. You drift around the pole like a goddess, slowly undressing, making him hard in seconds.

Rafe looks away when you approach a man sitting in a booth. He might break someone’s jaw if he watches you dance on them, especially if they touch you.

He knows your interest in these guys isn’t genuine, remembering how you told him he’s the only one you’d dance for for free. This will just be a shitty part of dating you, and compared to the good parts, he can take this.

A few minutes later, you walk over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” you say over the throbbing music. “Thought I should tell you that guy just asked for a private room. Don’t freak out.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens as he takes a pull of his drink. You notice his irritation immediately, leaning over to speak into his ear.

“This is just work,” you say. “I can’t wait to clock out so we can fuck like we did in that hotel room.” His lips quirk up in a smile.

“I’ll break his hands if he tries anything,” he warns. You believe him.

After your shift, you and Rafe head to a party at one of the mansions sitting on the north side of the island.

But instead of leading you to the front door, he pulls you to the dark, empty shoreline, and you can tell by the look on his face that he’s turned on.

“On the beach?” you say, amused.

“You said we’d fuck, didn’t you?”

When you find a place on the sand, the night sky nearly starless, the waves crashing, you pull each other’s bottoms off with fervor.

Rafe’s on top of you, breaths shallow as he nips at your shoulder, guiding himself into you with a hunger deep inside him. It seems the more he has you, the more desperate he gets.

“I was hard all fucking night watching you dance,” he mutters, sinking into you, inch by inch.

“Fuck,” you whisper, tilting your hips, sinking into the sand. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Who else can do this to you?”

“Nobody,” you answer. “I’m all yours, baby.”

“Yeah, you fucking are,” he says, pulling back and thrusting into you. His hand grips around your neck as he pounds you, claiming you with every slam.

You mean it. You’re his, happily.

After you make your way up to the house party, Rafe pulls you onto his lap the second he finds a seat on the massive balcony facing the darkened beach where you just fucked.

A man comes by asking for a gram and Rafe pulls out his bagged coke, trading it for bills. After the deal, he places a few twenties in your pocket, kissing the side of your neck.

You still feel the sand on your skin as he skims your leg with rough fingertips.

Maybe you’d be ashamed doing this with another man, being paid for sex and getting spoiled and doing drugs and fucking every chance you get.

But with Rafe, the sin is so sweet that it doesn’t feel wrong at all. You’ll happily live in the next 24 hours with him, over and over and over again.

(the end)

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#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Thinking about Actress!Reader who finally got to change into a pair of shorts and a crop top after being in a corset and long dresses all day after shooting was done for the day.

Actress!Reader who gets invited to go get Gelato with Peter to help cool off after being stuck in such stuffy clothes for the past six hours.

Bodyguard!Miguel who had to suppress a scowl when you told him that you were basically going on a date with your fellow actor. But that didn’t deter him from volunteering to watch over you both when you went to walk through the streets of Rome. He’d rather be the one watching over you than Peter’s bodyguard.

Actress!Reader and Actor!Peter who didn't notice when a group of passersby recognized them, snapping a few pictures of you both without your knowledge. You weren’t completely used to the whole “having photos taken of you without your permission or contact” but that was unfortunately a price to pay when you’re new and on the rise.

Actress!Reader who finally went home to relax, getting a good night's rest now that the jet lag has finally stopped.

Actress!Reader who wakes up the next morning with 24 missed calls, 35 new messages and her name trending on twitter.

—

Jake (Manager): (Y/N).

Jake(Manger): (Y/N), call me when you wake up.

Peter 🐝.: Did you look at Twitter yet?

Peter🐝.: Or like any social media yet?

Bestie💝: Girl…

Bestie💝: You’ve got some explaining to do.

“What’s… happening?” You mumbled as you scrolled through your new messages as you waddled into the kitchen of your hotel suite, where Miguel was already drinking his cup of coffee. Glancing up at him for a moment as he greeted you.

“Morning.” He mumbled as he placed his mug down. “Your manager told me to have you call him when you're up.”

“Do you know why?” You asked him as you scrolled to Jake’s contact info, receiving a grunt in response, a no.

“(Y/N) (L/N), would you like to explain what went on yesterday after you finished up on set?” You felt like you were five years old and being scolded by your mom all over again, except you genuinely didn’t know what you did.

“Um, I went to go get a snack with Peter. Why-“

“A snack.” He repeated, his tone questioning despite it being deadpan.

“Yes, a snack.” You huffed, your confusion turning into irritation as your brows furrowed together. “Why? can't I have a snack after work with my coworker?”

“You can have a snack after work, but from what I’m looking at here it doesn’t seem like it’s with a coworker.” His words make you pause.

“What?” All attitude now gone, confusion settles back in. “What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t seen the pictures yet?”

“What pictures?”

“Oh dear God…” Jake mumbled under his breath, before letting out a sigh. “Go on twitter, and check the trending tab.”

You put him on speaker and did what you were told, waiting for the little bird app to load, before clicking on the explore tab. Eyes widening as you read out the headline at top.

“Peter B. Parker and (Y/N), coworkers on a new upcoming movie, spotted out on date?!?”

Miguel almost started to choke on his coffee after he heard you recite the words, having to hit his chest to clear his windpipes as you frantically started to scroll through the tag.

“No, no it wasn’t a date though Jake, it wasn’t-“ Your words died on your tongue as your finger stopped scrolling once you hit a particular picture.

A picture of Peter making you try his flavor, by spoon feeding you.

Fuck how can I be so dumb? How could I forget that happened? It was only 2 seconds Max. And now it’s trending.

“I need you down at set an hour early. We have some things to discuss with Peter and his team.” Jake sighed before you heard the dial tone of him hanging up the call.

Shit.

—

Part 4<

Not proofread.

Word count: 600

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st

@mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout

@laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @fruityfucker @pigeonmama @scaryplanetdestroyer

@migueloharastruelove @krentkova19 @genny1019 @maiyart

@stressed-cherry @haveclayeveryday @miguelzslvtz @scaleniusrm @xerorizz

@enananawoah @messicampeon @anastasia1972 @lauraolar14 @huniedeux

@bluesidez @nommingonfood @chrishy973 @m4dyy @night-spectrum

@electricgg (to be added click here)

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv spiderman 2099 #astv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 fanfic #miguel ohara spiderman #miguel fanfic #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #bodyguard!miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara blurb #miguel o’hara blurb

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Unknown, Ep 10: Qian and Yuan

I’ve had a few people ask if I was going to do a breakdown post for the final scene between Qian and Yuan. Admittedly, I was not planning on doing so, but I like the attention 😈 so I will! 

Last we left off, Qian and San Pang were having a very difficult conversation, San Pang forced Qian to think about the future and was kicked out as a result. 

We start with a moment with each character to themselves. Qian closes the door behind San Pang and we see him hand at the door for a second, head hung in a way that feels very tired. He walks away from the door back to the couch to grab his glasses and wrap up the evening, when the camera cuts to Yuan sitting on the staircase, just out of sight of Qian. 

We see Yuan look up at the ceiling, take a deep breath, and then slowly move his eyes back to center. He is processing everything that he just heard from San Pang and Qian. Yuan is trying to keep himself composed here, he knows that Qian will be heading up the stairs eventually and so he stays seated because he wants Qian to know that he heard everything. Because Yuan is fucking mad. 

Qian heads up the stairs and we get, what could not be a more perfect little deer in headlights look from Qian as he processes that Yuan has heard everything. And I do love what this show does in how it portrays its characters because Yuan is still Qian’s little brother, and his face in the camera looks like that of an upset little kid. “Xiao Yuan,” Qian says as Yuan stands up and rushes down the stairs. In such a quick moment, Chris rolls his eyes, looks up, and then down like Qian is annoyed at Yuan’s behavior while knowing that he is absolutely going to have to be the one to handle it. 

Yuan brushes past him, but Qian immediately turns and follows after him, calls after him, tells him to wait. But Yuan keeps walking. Where he’s going? I have no fucking clue, but it is clear that Qian’s words aren’t going to cut it. Yuan has heard everything that Qian told San Pang. He’s heard about Qian’s wish for their happiness, he’s heard San Pang tell Qian that they love each other, that they have tried everything to make them not love each other, and what he hasn’t heard is an answer to San Pang’s question: 

“Do you want him to have a future without you?”

I don’t know exactly what (if any) part of the conversation acted as the tipping point for Yuan, but he has been pissed the entire episode about Qian hiding his medical stuff from him. So I can imagine that not hearing an answer from Qian about wanting to be in Yuan’s future might serve as a last straw kind of deal. 

And it marks a very important change in Qian that he runs after Yuan this time, that he physically puts himself in front of Yuan to stop him. Because he doesn’t want Yuan to go somewhere to cool off the way he did during Yuan’s first confession four years prior. He doesn’t want to just wait it out. He actually wants to talk to Yuan about where his head is at. That is huge progress from Mr. Hit First Talk Later. 

“Ge.” Yuan says, and then lets out a very big breath, like he’s trying to temper his feelings, but the frustration still bleeds out of him “It was never your fault,” 

Ah, here we go. What set Yuan off is Qian talking with San Pang about the Russian Roulette, reading between the lines there and understanding that Qian is scared of giving in to his feelings for Yuan because he blames himself for how deeply, how steadfastly Yuan loves him. Yuan is willing to die for him, and Qian has never had that before. He’s scared of giving in to his feelings for Yuan because he is scared of losing Yuan, and he is scared that Yuan’s love for him means Yuan will be lost because of him. 

“It was never your fault,” Yuan said and he put his hands on Qian’s shoulders. 

I do not even know how to describe the look Qian gives Yuan when he heard those words, nor can I really tell you what emotion(s) Qian is feeling in that moment, but I can tell you that I am obsessed with that look on his face. It’s like his breath catches in his throat and there is an ambiguity there, just like there was a bit of ambiguity in the head nod he gave San Pang, because he’s out of breath from running after Yuan, but there is also this chance that the pause in his breathing there is because of what Yuan said. Anyway: 

“Even though I know that in the end you might not want all that I’ve given-” 

Yuan says, while Qian looks down in the direction of his shoulders, where Yuan’s hands were just a moment ago. They made excellent casting choices here, I actually think for this scene it is really important that Kurt is taller than Chris, because it adds some extra power to Yuan’s position for me here. The way Yuan looks down at Qian makes him seem even more pissed off about the entire situation, almost like he’s belittling Qian. He wants to dig a knife in here, and he’s being successful at it

“Hearing it first hand still hurts a little,” 

And we are back in our original confession dynamic. Qian is not looking at Yuan, Yuan refuses to look away from Qian. Qian looks kind of out of it, I would say he is dissociating a little bit, but I actually think what is happening here is that Qian is getting hit with the full force of Yuan’s words. I think he is absorbing and processing everything that is being said and understanding how not making a decision is hurting Yuan. Mostly because of how quick his reaction time is to trying to stop Yuan from walking away immediately after he says it hurts. 

“I’ll be fine. I just need some time.” Yuan says, and I do think he means it. I think when Yuan came back from the States he had reached a point where he could live without Qian changing their relationship status, even if he didn’t want to. 

But as Yuan tries to walk away, Qian stops him.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” look at him using his words!  Qian looks so fucking exhausted when he does. The world has weighed heavy on him for so long, he’s been fighting an internal battle with himself about his feelings for Yuan for ages. It’s a lot, and the way Chris holds Qian here makes it feel like a lot. But, Yuan finally settles, because Qian is willing to engage in conversation. He is trying to clarify a misunderstanding, he is not outright rejecting Yuan here, he is not running away from talking about his feelings for Yuan. And so Yuan can stay, because there is some hope left there for him to hold on to. 

He releases another huge breath, he stretches for just a second, grounding himself. He looks back at Qian “Then what do you mean?” 

Qian stares in to the void, then rolls his eyes upwards, closes his eyes, and sighs. Chris shakes his head a little, like Qian is giving up. Because he is giving up. Because Qian is about to say the words. He is about to admit that his feelings for Yuan aren’t clear cut. Yuan looks away from  Qian in this moment, where Qian is getting himself together. 

gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“I can’t really figure out if it is love or something else that my feelings for you are.” And at the end of this, he isn’t running from the words anymore, because he looks at Yuan and Yuan is looking back at him. When Yuan first admitted his feelings, his suffering caused Qian to avoid eye contact. When Yuan returned, Qian couldn’t stop looking at Yuan. When listening to Yuan once again speak to his feelings and tell Qian he was hurting, Qian started in his comfort zone, in the old habits of looking away. But when he is actually admitting his feelings to Yuan, he does turn to look him in the eye. He isn’t avoiding it anymore. 

“Is it the love of a brother? Can we really turn it into romantic love? I don’t know.” Qian is finally having the conversation he has needed to have with Yuan. This is confusing, how do you separate your feelings out? How do you know? What happens if things don’t go well? How much are you set to lose if things devolve?” 

Yuan is capable of holding, understanding, and pushing that nuance, we’ve seen him do it before at the river. “This thing between us, is it because you don’t want or you don’t dare?” 

“Yes.” Qian says “All I know is I can’t live without you.” 

Yuan has seen that, San Pang and Lili have seen that, we have seen that. Qian wants to be careful with how he proceeds along this path, and he is right to do so. Because it is hard to determine, when you have known someone so long, when you have raised them, when you have seen them as a brother, when you have not had love outside of the family before, when that love has existed the entire time, and has been different the entire time, and how do you recognize that when you are in it? 

There is a pause. 

“Four years later, you came back.”

There is another pause. 

I love these pauses. I love Qian putting space between these thoughts, whether he is scrambling internally for what to say, or whether he is hesitant to voice them, I do not know. I just know that I love love love when directors allow for breathing room. 

“I saw your letter of last words.” 

Qian stops looking at Yuan here. Another little pause. 

“That’s when I started to feel scared.” 

The camera cuts to a wide shot, where both Qian and Yuan are visible. And we can see Yuan reacting to what Qian is saying. Yuan also is not making eye contact, he is fidgeting a little. But he is listening intently to Qian’s words. The blocking of this shot is interesting to me too, because the way that Chris is standing has Qian facing Yuan, but we don’t see enough of Chris’ eyes here, so while it looks like Qian is looking at Yuan, that is not necessarily the case. We have seen him look away multiple times and his head barely moves. 

Qian is talking in to the void, and Yuan is picking up the signal. Another pause, and right before Qian continues talking, Yuan turns to look at him with this look of surprise on his face. His mouth is slightly agape, his eyes look soft staring at Qian.

 “I’m terrified,” Qian says. “What if you had no chance to come back? I don’t know what I would do.” 

Yuan looks at Qian, looks away, looks up like he is trying to decide how to feel. What type of treatment he should be giving to Qian at this moment. Should he be bitter, should he be harsh, should he be soft? 

“Wei Qian.” Yuan says 

AND I WILL ONCE AGAIN SHAKE MY FIST AT THE SUBTITLES FOR TRANSLATING GE AS QIAN BECAUSE IT SO SEVERELY CUTS THE IMPORTANCE OF MOMENTS LIKE THIS ONE. 

Qian cannot figure out his feelings! He can’t figure out if he loves Yuan like a brother or something more! So Yuan cuts the brother out of it. He calls Qian by his name. He calls him Wei Qian, he puts the separation up for Qian. Is this the love of a brother? That’s an easier question to answer when you aren’t being called ‘brother’. How do you feel when you aren’t being reminded of your connection? 

I do not have the ability to describe the way Kurt’s mouth moves here, but I love the expression he gives Yuan as he finishes saying Wei Qian. He’s clearly going for a soft approach. Qian’s mouth, which hangs open just slightly, closes shut. 

“I’ve told you. I can sum up my life in two words: Wei Qian.” A smile starts to creep up his face. That’s love, bitch! Yuan was pissed, but now that Qian has stopped him, not that Qian has voices his hesitations, now that Qian has admitted that he can’t live without Yuan, even if he doesn’t know what his feelings for Yuan are, the love Yuan has for Qian melts the anger and lets the love bleed through. “But I’m not making you take responsibility for me.” 

This is a very important character trait of Yuan’s. One of the first things we saw of teenage Yuan was him grabbing one of the household bills. Yuan has been working side hustles while in school. He’s been helping pay the bills. He’s been as helpful as he possibly can be at all times, because this was a home he was given, not a home he was born in to. 

GOD DAMMIT CHRIS IS SO GOOD. ALL HE DID WAS MOVE HIS EYEBALLS LIKE…TWO CENTIMETERS AND THAT WAS ENOUGH TO KILL ME. 

Yuan is saying all the things that Qian needs to hear. Yuan can sum his life up with Qian, Qian fed him, Qian kept him warm, Qian gave him a home, Qian gave him love. Qian has seen Yuan as his responsibility since they were kids, but Yuan has wanted nothing but to be a support system for Qian. I said it before, that Yuan is the only person who continuously helps Qian to whom Qian is not beholden. Qian owes San Pang and his family, Qian owes Le and the gang, Qian owes Xiong. Qian does not owe Yuan. Qian does not see Yuan as someone that owes him. 

That small little eye motion are some gears clicking in to place in Qian’s head. That small little eye motion is Qian well and truly listening to what Yuan is saying. 

And here comes the parallel: 

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“Did you come after me because you feel guilty, or because you care?” (this thing between us, is it because you don’t want or you don’t dare?) 

A genuine question that Yuan is using to try to push Qian in to allowing himself finally see his feelings through to the end. Qian is standing here before Yuan telling him that he does not know what his feelings for Yuan are. Even though those In The Know (Yuan and San Pang) can see the truth in Qian clear as day, Qian himself has not admitted it. 

So Yuan gives him a test.

Qian pauses for a moment, starts to shake his head, blinks. 

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“I really don’t know,” he says 

Qian has failed the test. 

Yuan’s soft smile has a hint of sadness in it now. 

“You don’t need to know.” Yuan leans back against the wall, looking up at the sky. Qian is looking straight ahead, once again not making eye contact with Yuan “It’s always been my problem. Going home with you.”

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

The weight of what Yuan is saying hits. Qian looks at the ground. Complete opposite direction as Yuan.  

“Getting attached to you. Falling for you.” 

Qian closes his eyes and sighs, pulling his head up from where it was pointed. It’s like he can’t get used to hearing Yuan confess. Like it hits him every time Yuan says he’s in love with Qian and has been forever. 

“Wanting you all my life.” 

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

That is too much for Qian. Even with his eyes closed, even though he can’t see Yuan right now, he has to face away. 

“It was never your fault.” Yuan says, and Qian’s eyes open ever so slightly. 

And I just have to say that it is really really important to me that with all of Qian’s trauma, with everything he has suffered, with the stuff he went through with his mother, that he finally has someone tell him that it wasn’t his fault. There is naturally a lot of hesitation in changing the way you see someone you have raised, someone you have looked at and treated as a brother, and suddenly see them as someone to be romantically interested in. 

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

So it is important to me that Yuan tells Qian he did nothing wrong. That Yuan’s feelings here are entirely his own, borne of his own mind and body, and that there is no aspect of Yuan’s feelings for him that Qian pressured him in to. That Yuan will be fine, eventually, if Qian does not reciprocate his feelings. Qian is not being forced in to anything here, and neither is Yuan. And I am so so so glad that Qian got to hear that. Twice! 

Anyway, Qian’s eyes open ever so slightly right as Yuan starts walking away, shoulder checking Qian on his way out. 

“Wait.” Qian grabs Yuan by the wrist “Wei Zhiyuan.” 

gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Yuan’s eyes are locked on to Qian’s hand around his wrist. He once again looks surprised that Qian would be brave enough to stop him from leaving. We get a shot of their hands (😈) and Yuan ever, ever so slowly raises his eyes to look at Qian.  

Qian has passed the test at the last second.

#here you go for the people who asked if I was going to write the staircase scene #got this in right under the wire before tomorrow becomes all episode 11 stuff #unknown #unknown the series #unknown the series analysis #unknown the series meta #unknown the series episode 10 #chris chiu #kurt huang #taiwanese bl #wka long post

[propertyofyoutube]

Kidnapping Prank - EXPLICIT

Summary: Sam and Colby teamed up to pull, what they thought, would be the best prank to win the prank war. After you and Sam were both kidnapped and Colby 'shot' Sam in the head, you did not react well at all understandably! Heavily inspired by the killing best friend prank.

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+, mentions of guns, death (it was a prank) grief and pain. Kidnapping. Unprotected sex, angry sex, make up sex, fem dominance.

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Sam laughed as you spoke, "so I basically just ran a stop sign for Tara, when her emergency was that she literally had shit up the wall!" You thought back to a couple of nights before and speeding to Tara's rescue when all she had was an explosive bathroom experience.

"You know... it doesn't surprise me!" Sam laughed harder as he drove through LA. suddenly, he made an impromptu right turn as he headed away from the Main Street, "Colby found this new shortcut the other week, skips all the traffic." Sam said with a smile as he turned to face you. You nodded as you glanced out the window.

Just by luck, or so you thought, as Sam drove down a very secluded street, the car suddenly began to jump forward slightly as the engine inevitably came to a stop. "What the fuck?" Sam said, considering this was a brand new Tesla.

You couldn't help but feel nervous, as your hairs stood on end and your anxiety slightly started to stir. Sam sighed as he stepped out of the Tesla, walking to the engine and popping the hood. You waited for a moment before stepping out of the car as Sam was taking a little longer than expected. "Is everything okay?" You asked, as the street was pitch black apart from 2 dimly lit street lamps.

Sam huffed as he looked at the engine, "I'm not sure to be honest..." he looked at you, his face was hard to read in this light but he looked confused, "baby come here, does this look like it's cracked to you?" He asked pointing into the engine. You moved to stand beside him as you followed his gaze.

"Where?" You asked, leaning in closer.

"Just right there, on that pipe... I think it's-" as you were leaning closely to examine the part suddenly Sam was cut off as both of your head were swallowed by blackout out bags.

"What the fuck!" You screamed as your body was pulled backwards into the arms of someone.

You heard as Sam shouted struggling, "baby! Y/n!" He shouted loudly.

"Sam!" You screamed as you instantly began crying. All of a sudden, you were tied up as you were thrown into the back of a car. Everything quiet as you cried, your body shaking uncontrollably.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It wasn't very long before the car came to a stop, and the door swung open as a pair of hands grabbed your body pulling you out of the back of the car by your feet as you kicked and screamed, "let go! Please let me go you bastards!" You cried heavily as two people carried you up a lot of stairs in what sounded like a very empty building. As the banging of metal doors you were being carried through echoed throughout the building.

As the kidnappers reached the top of the stairs and opened the last door you were hit with the cold air as you presumed you were outside, more than likely, on a roof.

The two strangers sat you on a chair, your head still completely covered, as they tied you tightly, your legs to the legs of the chair and your arms to the arms. You put up as much of a fight as you could, you definitely managed to cause some form of pain to the attackers as you kicked your legs and flung your arms, but it was no use. They were strong and managed to get you exactly where they wanted you.

Suddenly, you heard the door open and close as they left you there alone. Quickly followed by the sound of it opening again but accompanied by the sound of Sam shouted a string of expletives. "You let her go! Let her go!" He was screaming by the kidnappers didn't respond.

"Sammy?" You cried out.

"Baby! Shhh it's okay. It'll be okay." Sam said but you could hear the panic and shaking on his voice.

Suddenly, everything became light for you as one of the attackers pulled off the bag over your head. As your eyes adjusted, through the tears, you was Sam. On his knees, the bag still over his head. Your heart broke as even more fear filled your body as you saw the masked man for the first time. "Oh my god. Sammy." You cried as you watched the man walk across the roof, next to Sam as he wasted no time, lifting up a gun and putting it to Sam's head.

"No! No no no!" You cried loudly. "Please mister! Please I'm begging you!" The man looked at you as you saw Sam shaking and could hear his tears starting to fall. "We're just kids please! Please don't do this, please don't take him away from me!" Suddenly, you heard the click as he cocked the gun. "Sir sir please! Please I couldn't survive without him, sir please I love him... he's everything I have!" Just as you screamed at the top of your lungs.

BANG.

You threw your head away, as you screamed out, and Sam's body hit the ground. Your body shaking uncontrollably as you cried harder than you ever did. Your heart just snapped in half, as you sobbed you screams of pain ripping through the streets of LA. you couldn't believe it. He was gone.

Suddenly, you hadn't noticed as you sobbed, your body dragging the chair as far away from Sam as possible. You hung your head low as you screamed out crying, as a hand suddenly touched your shoulder, "get off me you bastard! Get the fuck away from me!" You screamed your voice filled with both pain and anger.

"Baby baby!" Sam's voice echoed through your ears as your head suddenly snapped up in disbelief, "baby, oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Sam said as at first he laughed, "it was a prank baby! Just a prank!" Sam said as he quickly untied your hands, you looked at him. A million feelings running through your body all at once, your tears still falling down your face. You couldn't speak, you couldn't move. You looked at him, as for a moment you genuinely thought you would never see him again, hug him, kiss him. And there he was, smiling at you. As he finally got the last of the rope untied. You quickly stood up as Sam grabbed your hands and you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck as his arms squeezed across your back. "I'm so sorry baby!" Sam chuckled as you hugged you tightly.

"I thought you... I thought you were dead!" You cried into his shoulder as Colby suddenly took off the mask and stood off to the side. "Don't you ever, ever do that to me again Sam." You cried harder as you squeezed him tighter. Sam suddenly pulled away as you looked at the floor, terrified to look at his face as the relief you felt slowly began to wear away and anger started to rise in you.

"Baby I'm fine!" He smiled as he took his hand lifting your face up by your chin. As your gaze met his, his face dropped dramatically. The look in your eyes, the pain you had felt, it was in this moment Sam knew he'd fucked up. The realisation of what they did hit him like a tone of bricks. "Baby..." Sam said softly as he stepped towards you.

You quickly lifted up your arms pushing him backwards, "what the fuck Sam!" You shouted, your tears still streaming. "Are you fucking kidding me!"

Sam stood shocked as even Colby stayed back, both of them filled with nervousness and guilt. "Baby, oh my god. I didn't think it- I was being stupid- I just thought-"

"Yeah well you thought wrong Sam." You quickly looked at Colby, "and you!" Colby stared at you realising just how stupid they had actually been. They didn't say anything, they didn't know what to say. "How could you do that to me Sam? Put me through the worst pain I've ever felt in my life... just for a fucking video!" You screamed at him as he tried to step to you, his eyes filling with water. He tried to grab you but you fought back against him.

"Y/n please. I'm so sorry. I swear, this was a fucked up idea and I see that now, please oh my god..." Sam began to cry as he grabbed your shoulders, looking deep into your eyes. "Please.. just don't... please don't leave me. Let me fix this."

You looked at Sam shocked, you would never leave him. You loved him more than anything and yes, he fucked up, but life without him is what caused you so much pain. "Sam, I'm not going to leave you." You said between tears as you tried to compose yourself. "I just..." you looked at him, unsure of what to say at this point, you were exhausted. Both emotionally and physically. "Just please.. take me home." You said softly as he quickly nodded at you, pulling you into a hug, squeezing tighter than he ever had.

"Of course baby, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." He cried as he held you tightly. Colby came up behind both.

"Y/n... I'm sorry. We didn't think it through." Colby said with his voice guilt ridden. You turned to face him as he pulled you into a hug, holding you just as tight as Sam did.

>>>>>>>>>>>

The drive home was horrible. You sat in the back of the car, telling the boys to give you space. You gazed out of the window. You thought back to what happened and the pain you felt. But then the relief of seeing him okay. You wanted... you wanted to hug him, but you also wanted to hit him, you wanted to fuck him but you also wanted to kill him. You had never felt more emotions as you did in this moment.

As you finally arrived back at their place you quickly ran into the house, heading straight up the stairs to the bedroom as Sam ran quickly behind you. As you walked into the room, you took off your hoodie, throwing it onto the floor as you paced around the room. You wanted to scream at him, you wanted to rip him to shreds for what he put you through. But you thought he was dead, you thought you'd never get to kiss him, you hold, to fuck him ever again.

"Baby..." Sam said as he closed the door behind him.

You continued to pace. You didn't know what the hell to do, you couldn't decide, your body wouldn't settle on just one emotion.

"Please. Baby, just give it to me. Let it out." Sam said softly preparing himself for the biggest scolding of his life.

You stopped, looking at him across the room. And then your body decided as you breathed heavily, "fuck me." You said firmly.

Sam's gaze quickly shot up, looking at you confused, "what did you say?"

You took a deep breath before stating once again, "I said. Fuck me." You stared him, your body refusing to move.

Sam looked at you dumbfounded, both of your emotions running high, "baby.. I don't think-"

"Sam. You either fuck me, or you get the fuck out." You said sternly. You needed to release some of this tension, your body desperate to relax into his touch. Your breathing heavier as you stood, your hands on your hips.

Sam stood for a moment, his mind racing as he suddenly swallowed hard, "fuck it." He suddenly ran to you, grabbing your face and connecting your lips, deeply and passionately. Your arms wrapped around his head as both of your tongues fought for dominance. Sam reached down grabbing the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, throwing it across the room. As you quickly returned the favour, his torso exposed, as you ran your hands along it. Both of your lips in sync. Sam reached behind you and unclasped your bra before discarding of that too. As soon as your breasts were exposed Sam instantly turned his attention to them, kneading them with his hands and his sucking on your nipples, your head throwing back in pleasure as your hands interlocked with his hair.

You suddenly pushed him off you as you looked at him, pulling down your sweats along with your underwear. "Pants off now." You demanded. As Sam nodded eagerly with a smile across his face. He quickly undone his jeans and pulled them off, quickly kicking them away. You both reconnected your lips as he pulled your body close to his, you could feel his already hard dick pressing against you, as your heat dripped for him. You felt anger but mostly passion as you quickly pushed him backwards onto the bed, taking him by surprise. You were taking control tonight. You moved to straddle across him as you pushed him down by his chest, his eyes filled with love and admiration as well as lust and passion. His hands ran up and down your thighs as you breathed deeply, "you will never do anything like that to me ever again." You demanded as Sam looked all over your body. Nodding his head quickly.

"Never baby, fuck... I love you so much." Sam said as his hands dug into your thigh. You quickly lined him up with your entrance as you wasted no more time sliding down onto his cock as you both groaned deeply. You needed this, you needed him. "Fuck y/n..." Sam whispered as he flung his head back in pleasure.

"Oh shit..." you moaned out as you began to slowly move your body up and down. Feeling Sam's grip on your thigh tighten as he moved his hands up to your hips. Holding you with a firm grip. "You're such a dick." You said as you bounced, your heart pounding as the feeling of his dick hitting your g-spot being exactly what you needed in this moment.

"Fuck baby!" Sam moaned out louder, you calling him a dick made him crumble, "I'm so sorry." You quickened your speed as you bounced.

"You will never do that again," you moaned as you bounced, your head flinging back in pleasure, "fuck. You fucked up sam." You moaned louder.

"Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum already." Sam groaned as his grip on your hips began to leave marks.

"No." You demanded snapping your head to him, his eyes opening to meet your gaze, "not yet. Just a little longer. Don't you fucking dare cum yet." You said, your voice dominant and filled with passion and rage. You bounced even quicker, as you felt that knot in your stomach, your orgasm quickly approaching.

Sam's hands suddenly reached up to knead your tits once again, his groans filling your ears, causing your body to cover in goosebumps. "Fuck y/n. I'm so sorry."

"Fuck fuck..." you moaned out, your fingers digging into his chest as your breath hitched, "fuck I love you." You whined as you closed your eyes tightly your orgasm about to hit.

"Fuck baby. Please cum. I need to cum. Please." Sam begged, "I fucking love you. God do I love you." He groaned deeply. That's all you needed to hear as you clenched your walls around his cock as he suddenly lifted you up, his hands tightly gripping your ass as he began to thrust up into you, faster and harder.

"Fuck!" Your orgasm hit you full speed as you spilled all your juices all over his dick.

"Fuckkkkk." Sam groaned out deeply, his voice horse snd raspy. Breathless, As he came, filling you up entirely. "Fuck baby..." he said much softer as he tried to catch his breath. For the first time tonight you smiled, as your body relaxed entirely. You slowly lifted off him as you flopped on the bed beside him.

"Fuck... I needed that." You said looking up at the ceiling as your heart pounded out of your chest. You both laid there for a moment, nothing but your heavy breathing filling the room.

Sam turned his head to you, "baby... I really am sorry." He said with sadness in his eyes. "I really didn't think it through, I didn't think of the consequences." He said with his voice riddle with guilt.

You turned to look at him, his eyes glistening over, "baby, it's okay." You said softly as you reached your hand up to trace his jawline. "I swear though, that video better go viral! It best be worth it!" You chuckled as Sam looked at you, his mouth open wide.

"I mean... I wasn't going to post it, but... if you insist!" He laughed as he rolled over on top of you.

"I was so scared Sam." You said as you looked up into his eyes.

Sam took a deep breath as he spoke, "I'm sorry."

"I just love you so much, I couldn't imagine life without you..." you said with sadness filling your heart.

"You never will have to find out baby, I love you... more than anything y/n." Sam said as you smiled at him warmly. He leaned down giving you a sweet but deep kiss.

"I think you can start making it up to me now..." you said as you bit your lip.

"How so?" Sam said with a smirk.

You pulled a thinking face before you spoke, "for starts, instead of kissing me up here... you better go and kiss me... down there." You whispered as Sam bit his lip.

"Oh baby... I was already on my way..." Sam smiled before kissing you again.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

Authors note: I hope you liked this! This was a request! Please leave your requests on here xx

#sam and colby #smut #sam golbach #fanfiction #sam golbach smut #samgolbach #sam golbach dirty imagines #propertyofyoutube #sam golbach imagines #sam x y/n #sam golbach one shot #sam goldbach smut #sam golbach x reader #samgolbach dirty #samgolbachdirty #sam golbach x y/n

[pinkandlilacroses]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Angel - Paige bueckers

part 3

• summary {when an unsuspecting girl falls for the basketball star}

• warnings {drug use, angst}

• comment if you would like to be added to the taglist

bella’s pov

“ok you can go now” she says, emotionless

“oh”

“i mean, no offence but i have a girl coming soon, so you cant be here” she says laying on her back, breaking our eye contact

i don’t respond and put my clothes back on. this is fucked

“have a nice night”

i haven’t cried this much in months, walking through the halls, ugly crying.

‘paige’ has been blocked by ‘bella’

“bella whats wrong” avery says, empathetically

“i hate her, i hate her so much” i cry, barley being able to choke the words out

i look at avery after my response and i have never seen her that angry, there could fully be steam coming from her ears.

“please dont talk to her, please dont hurt her, please avery, please” i cry out, begging the infuriated girl

“why not bella, she deserves it” she yells

my tears dont stop and i feel like they will never stop pouring.

“tell me what she did”

i begin the tell her the events of tonight and her anger only grows.

“that fucking bitch” is all she can say in response

“but i blocked her, and im literally never gonna speak to her again” i say, trying to make a positive point, to counteract this negative situation

“you are never gonna speak to her again”

“im gonna go off to bed”

i feel broken, i got used. i wanted my first time with a girl to be meaningful, i know i like girls and i wanted to prove to myself that having sex with girls wasn’t wrong, but i feel wrong, i feel gross. i cant believe i would let myself be that vulnerable with someone i barley know. ive never been the one to have one night stands and ive only ever had sex with someone ive been in a relationship with.

i take my valium, something i swore to never use again after getting addicted, but its the only thing that works.

“hey, how are you feeling” avery ask’s, genuinely. i’ve never seen her be this gentle before

“wheres my weed”

“bella no”

“shut up avery”

i walk to the kitchen and unlock one of the drawers, and i see the stash. thank god

i know i shouldn’t smoke as a coping mechanism, but its the only thing that works, every time something bad happens to me, i turn to smoking

after going through 3 joints, im barley able to talk or stand up. perfect

knock

ugh

knock

fuck off

knock

“who is it” i say, it barley even sounded like words

“its azzi, is avery here”

who the fuck is azzi

“avery theres a bitch here for you” i say taking another drag

“oh my god! hey azzi” avery says, excitedly, why the fuck is she acting like that

“why are you so fucking happy” i ask, knowing full well how rude i sound

“this is azzi, shes in my psychology class and we have gotten pretty close” avery says, grabbing azzi and sitting next to me on the couch

“yo dont sit on my shit” i say, mad

“your bella right?” azzi says, happily. i hate happy people

“yeah”

“yeah avery’s told me alot about you” she says

“cool” i reply, dryly

“azzis on the basketball team” avery says, my eyes widen

“of course she is” i say, sarcastically. i hate basketball

“yeah, have you been to any games” she questioned, attempting to continue this boring conversation

“nah, i dont watch basketball”

“oh well you should sometime, avery keeps saying how she wants to go to a game” azzi says, looking at avery who begins giggling. sus

“bella your probably friends with some people on the team” avery says

“you wanna hit” i offer to azzi

“nah, i dont smoke”

“boring” i say, bluntly

“do you guys mind if some of my friends come over” azzi says

“no, no, thats perfectly fine” avery says, looking at azzi. basically eye fucking her

“who” i ask

“ice, kk, aubrey, nika and ashlee” she lists

fuck my life. im to high to care

“yeah whatever” i say, lazily

“ok perfect, ill tell them to come” azzi says, excitedly

“are you sure” avery whispers to me, being nice. for once

“i dont give a fuck, its fine” i say taking a drag

im so high. god damn

10 minutes later all of azzis friends turn up, why are they all so tall. what the fuck

avery introduces herself to them and points them to our couch

“hey im kk, your bella right” kk asks

“yeah im bella”

“hey im ice”

“hey im nika”

“hey im ashlee”

“hey im aubrey”

to many people to remember

until

“oh paige came to, i hope you dont mind” azzi says to us, mostly avery

avery says nothing, myself included

“hi paige” avery says, extremely cold

“come sit guys” azzi says, breaking the silence. i wish i wasn’t so high cause i wanna go to my room

everyone sits on the couch, paige sitting the furthest away from me. funny. not funny. not laughing

conversation begins and everyone is involved. everyone but me, ugh i’m so uncomfortable

paige keeps looking at me, and yes i’m noticing because i’m looking at her to.

paige’s pov

fuck. why do i keep looking at her.

she blocked me last night so obviously shes mad about my actions last night, its just a hookup, nothing more.

its not that deep

“i’m going to bed” bella says, slurring and barely able to stand up. i didn’t know she smoked that much, i guess i don’t know anything about her. but i don’t care.

“paige are you ready to go” kk and ice say to me

“yeah, aubrey, nika, azzi, u ready to go”

“yeah lets go”

“actually im gonna stay” azzi says. sus

“buy guys” is said in unison

azzis pov

“ugh finally” avery says, while smashing her lips onto mine

A/N: im being active rn lolll. how do we like avery and azzi

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #uconn #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #azzi fudd #nika muhl #kk arnold

[xxchumanixx]

Hey can you make a part two of the Grey daughter part where the whole team finds out about them when she comes to drop off lunch for Grey and Tim and they starts to tease Tim about it

My Man

(sequel to 'Not just any man')

Tim Bradford x Grey!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, a little angst I guess? But only if you squint real hard Word count: 1.265 Authors Note: Hello love, thanks for the request! Hope you'll like it! Enjoy!

You hated your mom sometimes.

When she asked about Tim's favorite food, you should have known something was up.

Or, rather, she was up to something.

You told her, nonetheless, being sent off with two paper bags not long after, told to bring your dad and Tim lunch.

Tim's favorite.

She did it on purpose, trying to have you show your affection for him more openly, around his colleagues. They were already having their own suspicions and rumors about you two, you just hadn't noticed, yet.

So, when you walked into the mid wilshire department, carrying two hot bags in your hands, you first made your way to your dad. He was in his office, blinds up so you could see that he was hunched over some paperwork, glasses on his nose.

Not bothering to knock, you let yourself in, his gaze lifting as he heard the door. "Honey." he greeted you, removing the glasses. "What are you doing here?"

Holding up the bags you walked over, placing one in front of him. "Mom cooked." you explained, cocking a brow. "Wanted to know what's Tim's favorite food and sent me on the way to deliver some."

His head tilted, sending you a pointed look and you sighed. "I know, I know." you murmured, arms flailing at your sides to emphasize your words. "I couldn't stop her."

He shook his head, suspiciously sniffing at the bag. His hands wrapped around it, taking a hold of the plastic container inside. "Tell your mom thank you." he told you, sending you a grateful smile and you nodded.

"Will do."

Then you turned back around, walking back out to find Tim.

Grey took another sniff of the contents in the bag, humming to himself in surprise. Whatever Bradford's favorite food was, it definitely smelled good - not that he would have admitted it out loud, though.

You asked Smitty where Tim was and he directed you into the direction of the detectives, where you spotted him.

He was looking good in his uniform, ass hugged deliciously, as you made your way straight towards him.

"Oh my god." Angela gasped, causing Nyla's gaze to follow hers. "No way." she muttered, eyes as wide as Angela's. "Isn't this Grey's daughter? Why is she- Oh!" she cut herself off, as realization hit her.

"Bradford and her are a thing!"

Tim held himself from cursing under his breath, instead sending you a smile, even though it was forced. He hadn't missed the way Lopez and Harper perked up at your arrival.

You had basically made a beeline for him, not leaving any room for imagination.

"I'm bringing you lunch." you told him, returning the smile, holding up the paper bag in your hand. "And for my dad. Mom insisted that I'd bring you some, too."

He cocked a brow, huffing slightly. "Of course she did."

You chuckled, handing him the bag. "It's your favorite." you told him, sending him a wink. His eyes closed as he inhaled deeply, chuckling as they opened again. "Of course she did." he repeated himself, looking inside the bag.

He would have been lying if he said it didn't smell good.

It smelled fucking delicious.

"I'm guessing she wants the others to know." you spoke, biting your lip. "She wants to show you off as her daughter's boyfriend or something."

One of his brows lifted again, and you shrugged your shoulders. "Don't ask me." you gave back, shaking your head with a smile. "Anyways, I just wanted to bring you the food and see you."

He smiled a smile of his own, softened around the edges. "Thank you." he said, head tilting downwards the slightest bit. "And your mother."

You nodded, suppressing the urge to kiss him. You would have plenty of time to kiss him after his shift.

"I'm gonna go, then." you told him, and he nodded. "See you later." he gave back, hesitating, as he took a step closer, voice lowering to almost a whisper. "I love you."

Grinning, you shook your head. "I love you too." Then you turned around and left, but not without looking back at him.

Lucy plopped up at Tim's side almost immediately after you left, tearing him from his dreamy state. She looked at him knowingly, biting her lip to hide the smile that was threatening to take over.

"What's that look?" he wanted to know, brows furrowed as he tilted his head at her. "Oh, nothing." she quipped, smirking up at him. "That's so sweet of her to bring you lunch. I wonder why, though."

She had to be kidding, Tim thought.

Of course, she knew why you were bringing him lunch. She just wanted to hear it out of his mouth, admit that he was dating Grey's daughter.

It wasn't that he was ashamed of you - quite the opposite, really. He would have shouted it into the open world if he could, but he didn't want anyone to think that he was just using you, or you him.

Your dad was a cop, so of course you had to find someone with a badge as well, right?

Bullshit.

He would have willingly taken it up with anyone, if they just so much as dared to think like this about you.

Before he could respond, Angela and Nyla joined them, causing Tim to groan inwardly.

He was screwed.

"What was that?" Angela wanted to know, failing to hide her grin. She was happy for him, but she also wanted to tease him a bit.

Tim rolled his eyes, mocking her grin with one of his own in pure sarcasm. "What do you mean?" he retorted, clutching the bag to his chest subconsciously.

Nyla started to laugh, sending him a pointed look. "Please." she made, brows raised. "We all know what that was. Bradford is knocking Grey's daughter."

His face grew pale at her choice of words, instinctively falling into defense mode. "I'm not knocking her or anything." he told her, voice sharp as she bit down on a grin.

Of course she didn't mean it like that, but what other way to get him to talk other than this?

Angela must have picked up on her train of thought, whilst Lucy stood by and watched the scene unfold.

"Yeah, Tim, why don't you tell us what's going on between you and mini Grey?" Angela wanted to know, tilting her head with her arms crossed over her chest.

Tim winced at the mini Grey, shaking his head as he slowly came to terms with having to tell to them. They wouldn't stop bothering him, if he didn't.

"Y/N and I are in a relationship." he announced, looking between them only to find knowing smirks. "And you all knew already. Why make me spill it then?"

Lucy chuckled, her and Angela sharing a look. "Because you're grumpy and refuse to tell us about your private life." she explained, looking up at him.

He bit his cheek, swallowing the anger flaring up. "And this is exactly why I refuse to!" he retorted, shaking his head. "Because you all are fucking teases and wouldn't leave me in peace."

Angela scoffed, still smiling though.

"We're all happy for you, Bradford." she told him, her hand brushing over his arm. "We're just noisy assbutts, that want to snoop in your private life. Don't mind us, we'll just be sitting in the back, eating popcorn."

Tim sighed, shaking his head again. "Wouldn't have expected anything different." he returned with a huff. Nyla smirked, hand on her hips.

"And that's exactly why you love us."

Tag List

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm

@nachofriess @augustvandyne @RookieTrek

@dhunhdchrih

#the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie x u #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #imagine #request

[dimhortons]

How do you be so pretty?? You are prettier than I could ever dream to be, what did you do to achieve this level of gorgeousness????

Honest to God the answer is time, self confidence, a good skincare routine, and getting kinda pudgy. Dream big, shoot for the stars, because you can fucking do it!!!!!!!! It's hard and absolutely a constantly evolving process, but never give up, learn little things bit by bit, even if it can be discouraging sometimes. Experiment, do fun shit with your hair, buy new shampoo and conditioner, get a flowery or fruity deodorant, get some skin cleanser or moisturizer, smile big and wide and unashamed because my darling, you were made to tread afield with the most beautiful, most amazing, most wonderful people on earth.

#this is all serious advice but also take it day by day #bad days don't wipe out a slow steady stream of progress and even if you don't feel or see it you are getting better every day #strive to try little things every now and then #familiarize yourself with confidence slowly #it's taken so god-damned long for me to stand this tall and smile this wide so please please please give it everything you got #look back every now and then to see how far you've come #literally the best advice i have is to throw yourself at uncomfortable stuff with everything you got when you feel ready to process it #go shopping for shoes go to the grocery store dressed a little sluttier than usual put some makeup on and take pics #and please understand it won't happen overnight #I'm years into this. I've been doing this since way before i came out and only hit my stride a year ago. i still fuck this up constantly #you're gonna be okay. you're gonna be so so amazing. I'm so excited to see where you go #if you who asked this are cis thank you for the compliment and i don't necessarily know if this advice will 100% resonate with you #but i do hope it at least did smtn #also let the changes in your life come sometimes #like obvs if it's smtn that gives you horrendous dysphoria fight back but if it's just A change you didn't expect try it out #literally i thought getting a lil chubbier would be smtn i struggled with forever from an ED perspective but it like #helped ease a lot of dysphoria i feel from certain parts of my body

[earl-grey-love]

I hope all the queer characters in Mad M*n know how much I love them.

#there are so many of them #some explicitly stated and others implied #I really didnt expect that from what Id always assumed as a deeply 'straight man' series #now theres two I dont like #one cus hes a fucking horrible person #and the other cus hes just... odd. #cus hes like... a conman? i think thats what he was #his entire backstory and history and I think even his name was all fake? #hes not the only character who that is true for #there is one part where he explicitly comes on to another male character #like aint no denying what he meant #and cus I was kinda confused by the scene (or any with him in it) #i looked it up and I read this whole ass article about how he ''isnt actually gay + didnt mean that #he was just trying to manipulate the guy into silence!'' #which like maybe?? but thats a hell of a hoop to try to jump through #anyway later he very clearly is confirmed to be gay #after asking a woman to marry him and shes like ??? you arent attracted to me dude you're gay #and hes like yeah :/ but we can still do it cus I can take care of you + your son & nobody will question me #and that whole sequence hit hard #anyway I love the queer characters in this show 😭 #levi speaks

[yelloworangesoda]

i hate the food situation at my house so much for the love of god. theres only so many times a man can eat ramen with nothing or tuna with nothing

#theres no fucking. ingredients. theres nothing to add. i used to walk around my kitchen trying to look up stuff to make with what we had but #it required like. an onion. an egg. a spice. a vegetable. and we dont have that #and something about me. idk what it is idk if its me or my dads fault but i cant ask for it. i cant. i think part of it is bc i need the #ingredient for my one thing and then. it goes bad and its my fault and i feel bad #i hate my food situation so much. my dad makes this food in the microwave that he knows i dont like or eat. but if i make something else he #gets offended like thats not fair #and i feel bad for complaining bc i should just get a job and buy my own food but im not gonna do that bc im not gonna get a job. #i have trust fund money. like a decent amount from when i was hit buy a car #i should move out of state like right now. and live off that and when it runs out. ill just lay in the street i guess. i hate my life so #much guys its not funny. idk what to do. theres no fixing this theres nothing i want to do and nobody can help me bc theres no solution #everyone ignores it bc theres no solution to my problem. im never gonna be happy. its never gonna be worth it #nobody wants to tell me thats life suck it up or die bc they know id rather die by a mile. im so embarrassed of my stupid life im such a #failure. i want to kill myself bc i dont want to work like how pathetic is that. thats so stupid. i dont really say it to my parents bc they #would just laugh at me. or yell at me. i dont know what to do. i dont know what to do. i find myself hoping i get in a car accident and die #anytime i go out. i hope i dont wake up in the morning. i hope something bad happens and its not my fault so i dont get the blame i just get #the benifit of not having to do this anymore #god thats so. dark. its how i feel. #its getting to the point where i dont feel like i should say im not gonna kill myself at the end of these. im still not yet. but it feels #like a yet situation. like its gonna get to the point where i start trying again. #im still not there yet though. please dont… well idk what happens so suicidal adults. call the police on me. my methods arent any more #refined than they were when i was 14 trying to drink. nail polish. #simons spouting #vent :( #suicide //

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

A cosmic lightning bolt.

Yeah, if your ears operate she can give anyone a headache.

#emotional manipulation? probably #it runs in the family.....especially with the women #lady is like cayla might bypass her and come ask you... #I am like when she asks her all she does is tell her to ask me #but I kept that part to myself #E so 5 is you're counting a set where I am the vesica Pisces #look.....I overwhelmed the fuck out of you in class....like....period....but you weren't exactly discouraging me #you know me I just show up and ripple #was there a different vibe in the blue dot club that one night #in. that regard i is 6 (like •| see I can fucking twist that shit too babygirl) #H on 45 is an I go figure #🤔 you did run your dick sucker about 45 a lot #I don't even know how to describe your H.I.D. you use on the iot #she walks in deaf and dry(well....you were probably excited going in) and walks out hearing and soaked #I mean your reproductive hormones I think spark around me....hmmmm #even if you're high or eapecially if you're high #uppers vs Chuck Norris #and third eye overwhelemed good good....now hit her Crown #happy girthday #you silly girl happy was an old name #boing boing boing #yes you do make it happy #your organ talks are great but I'm highly audio and visual #does it make pretty fish tail for me to admire #then it's all good #yeah I want to play with all of you by the way #wood that has been dead for years looks exactly as alive in flow as a green tree #to a certain degree #it's more complex than I can abstract into words #I need to use I can't abstract it into words for you but...(fill in abstraction into words)

[nanaslutt]

JJK men's reactions to you starting your period during sex

incl: Nanami, Choso, Gojo, Geto

note: anon who sent this, this just happened to me too, you’re not alone

Contains: fem reader, period talk, period sex, blood, choking, multiple positions, mirror sex, spanking, creampie, ass play (geto’s part), dirty talk, teasing, rough sex

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Nanami:

Nanami had you in a mean mating press, your legs up to your shoulders as he drilled his cock inside you, the angle making him perfectly hit all of the most sensitive spots inside you. "Shi-t Kento, right there!" You whined, the words coming out broken from the roughness of his thrusts. "Yeah? Feels good honey?" He asked, smiling into your shoulder before he pursed his lips to leave soft kisses on your neck and shoulders.

"Fuck yes- please don't stop-" you cried, feeling your legs start to burn from being stretched over your head for so long, but the pleasure Nanami was bringing you was more than enough to make up for it. Nanami felt the telltale sign of your high, your cunt clenching tighter around him, the pulsing of your cunt around his cock coming more frequently as you got closer and closer to your orgasm.

He knew you needed clit stimulation to cum though, so without a second thought he squeezed his hand between your bodies in search for your clit—which he found with ease as he began rubbing small circles into the bud. He felt his own stomach start to tighten with the need for his own release, his thrusts getting sloppy as he fucked his cock inside your warm cunt, working him up to his orgasm.

"You gonna cum pretty girl? Gonna cum all over my cock?" Nanami whispered, feeling a gush of your arousal around his length. You nodded your head, your nails digging into his shoulders as you babbled and whined his name, relishing in all the pleasure he was giving you. Nanami leaned back slightly, easing the stretch of your thighs as he looked down to where the two of you were connected, nothing unusual—he loved watching his cock disappear and reappear from your cunt covered in your slick.

Only this time, when he pulled his hips back he could clearly see there were streaks of red coating his cock, making him panic, his thumb coming down to scoop some of the slick that was slipping down the underside of your hole as he kept the pace of his hips up, just slower—not wanting to alarm or embarrass you. When he brought his thumb back up it was just as he had thought he saw, his thumb was coated in your arousal, mixed with some of your blood.

While your eyes were screwed shut and you were waiting patiently to feel Nanami's thumb on your clit some more, he stopped his thrusts, keeping his hips flush to yours. Nanami leaned back, grabbing your ankles he slowly dropped your legs down from the side of your head, resting them atop his thighs. You cracked your eyes open slowly, wondering why he had stopped. "Kento? Something wrong?" You asked, trying to catch your breath, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

He sighed before showing you a small smile, his hands coming to rub along your thighs, making goosebumps arise on the skin there as he caressed you so gently. "It's my fault really, I saw you were supposed to start your period today on the app I have. I should've taken it easier on you." He said, a faint blush spreading on his cheeks. Immediately your face was covered in a dark crimson blush, your whole body heating up in embarrassment at what his words meant.

"Wait- Did I-? On your-?" You asked, covering your face with your hands but spreading your fingers apart as eyeholes so you could see him still. Nanami chuckled, his hands coming to pull your wrists away from your face, facing some resistance from you at first. "Nanami I'm so sorry, oh my goddd." You pouted, looking away from him you tried to turn your body away, which didn't result in you moving far as Nanami's cock was still snugly inside you.

"Why are you sorry my love?" He giggled, leaning over your body he placed his elbows by your head, moving your hands away from your face he caressed your cheek softly, your eyes still looking anywhere but his face. "This isn't something you can control. On the other hand, I saw you might start today and decided to have sex with you anyways, please don't feel embarrassed." He reassured, kissing your cheek softly.

"So.. what now.." You asked, feeling how his cock still throbbed inside you, his orgasm being stripped away after being so close must have left him with a dull ache. "We can do whatever you want my love, I can keep going and finish us off, We can stop and I'll clean you up, I can pull out and get you off with my fingers, whatever you're comfortable with," Nanami answered, smiling at you softly, his other hand starting to caress through your hair.

"I think I want to uh.. finish.. both of us." You replied, looking back at him bashfully. Nanami nodded, pressing a kiss to your face before he leaned back and kept your thighs around his, not wanting to put you in an uncomfortable position again. "You sure you're not.. grossed out by this?" You asked, fiddling with your hands over your stomach. Nanami laughed, shaking his head down at you before he pulled his cock out a couple inches and humped it back inside you, making your mouth open in a moan. "No part of you could ever gross me out." He replied, making you blush furiously.

Choso:

"Ngh- so tight-" Choso moaned when you squeezed your cunt around him on purpose. His hands were reaching up to play with your tits while you straddled his hips and rode his cock. You bit your lip looking down at your handsome boyfriend whose face was screwed in pleasure. "Does it feel good Cho?" You asked, pausing your up and down movements to rock back and forth on him, your clit bumping against his abs and sending delicious pleasure throughout your whole body.

He kept his hands on your tits, squeezing them almost painfully when you started grinding on him, knocking his cock into your sweet spot inside you. This was a different kind of pleasure than when you were bouncing on him, and it was making his toes curl. "So good- so good b-babe." Choso whined quietly, almost whispering out the pet name in embarrassment. His eyes were rolling back in his head, his chin tipped up toward the ceiling as he laid his head back into the pillows, relishing in the feeling of your warm cunt around him.

"Good, wanna make you feel good Cho." You responded, placing your hands on his abs you pulled your hips up, laving just the tip of his cock inside you before you slammed back down on him, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Choso groaned out the moment you dropped your weight down on his cock and started fucking him again.

His chin fell back down to his chest so he could watch you get off on top of him. A blush covered his cheeks while he watched you throw your head back as you bounced on top of him, your hand coming down to play with your clit while he continued groping your tits, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. Choso was in absolute heaven, nothing could make this moment better.. so he thought.

Choso dropped his gaze to your cunt to watch your pussy swallow up his cock hungrily when he noticed each time his cock disappeared inside you when you raised back up before sitting on him again, the strings of your arousal that stuck to your inner thighs and the base of his cock were a deep red color--you were bleeding. Choso opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He wanted to tell you that you were bleeding, in case you were in pain, but you didn't seem to be in pain at all.

He truly was enjoying the sight, his cock twitching inside you at the revelation that the warmth that was coating his cock wasn't just your cum, but your blood. That same thought repeated over and over in his head every time you bounced on his cock, making him feel dizzy.

After lots and lots of back and forth in his head about whether he would tell you about the blood; in fear, you would want to stop; he decided to tell you--it was the right thing to do. Hesitantly his hands dropped from your tits and gripped your waist hard, stopping all your movements. He was partially grateful he had stopped you at this moment because after seeing the blood, he didnt think he was going to last much longer.

"Cho, something wrong? You close?" You asked, tilting your head at him as you rubbed your hands over his abs, noticing how heavy he was breathing and how flushed his face was. Choso swallowed hard, he tried to gather the words in his crowded head carefully before he spoke. "Its okay baby, you can talk to me." You assured, smiling softly at him, one of your hands coming to rub at his large shaky hand that held your waist with an iron grip.

"Y-you..You're bleeding." He finally said after so much thought, making you furrow your eyebrows together. "Huh?" You replied, looking at your body for signs of blood, the crimson color below you being hidden from how you were sitting flush on his lap, his cock snugly inside you. "Um, down there..you're bleeding." He answered, doing his best to keep his eyes on yours, even though the words he was saying was making him feel incredibly embarrassed for some reason.

You looked down, moving your hands away from his abs you laid them on his knees. Leaning backward you lifted your hips as bit, noticing the blood that was smeared all over his pelvis and your inner thighs, the crimson liquid also coating the base of his dick that you pulled out of you. Choso saw the gears in your head turn, noticing that you were starting to panic. "I like it." He blurted out before you could apologize.

You shut your mouth briefly, registering his words you opened it again, looking at him in astonishment. "I uh.. I don't want to stop. I.. I really like it, but if you're not comfortable we can.. we can stop." Choso knew very little about humans and how their bodies worked, but he did remember you kept little cotton devices in your bathroom, and you had rejected his advances before because you were on your 'period'. He had Yuuji explain what a 'period' was, and the boy had told him that "girls bleed once a month" adding he didn't know much else about it.

Had Choso known what that had actually entailed and how hot it would be, he would've pushed for the two of you to have sex when you were on your period way sooner. You looked at him incredulously before you burst into laughter, covering your mouth with your hand. Choso blushed, your cunt twitching around him while you laughed, making him feel needy. "You're something else Choso." You giggled, blushing at his confession.

"Sorry, I wanted to be honest. I don't know much about.. periods but if it hurts we can stop too." He smacked himself internally for not asking you how you were feeling sooner. You leaned down to kiss his chest, the few inches of his cock you had slid out of you to see what he was talking about sliding back inside you, making him inhale softly. "It doesn't hurt but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little embarrassed.." Choso had no idea why you would be embarrassed about something so hot, did other humans think it was gross? How stupid.

"But, you seem to really like it so.. I guess it'll be okay for now." You finished, making his face flush red, his whole body heating up at your consent for him to keep going. "I do, I really like it, promise." He babbled, shaking his head, his hands smoothing up and down the sides of your body eagerly. "Please keep going, please fuck me now," Choso begged needily, making you giggle. "Okay, okay, but this is a one-time thing okay! Don't get too excited." Choso was long past that, 'one-time' thing? Yeah right, Choso was good at begging, and Choso happens to be your one and only weakness.

Gojo:

"You look so prettyyy~" Gojo cooed, sitting on his heels behind you in the mirror while your ass sat on his pelvis, the skin rippling every time he fucked his cock back inside you, creating loud squelches to echo throughout the room. You blushed at his compliment, your eyes averting away from the mirror in embarrassment from how intensely he was looking at you.

"Awww, you gettin' shy on me?" Gojo giggled, grabbing your jaw in his strong hand he pulled your gaze back to the mirror, making you watch yourself get fucked. "Don't be shyy~ After all I'm going through all this trouble to put on a show for you, don't be mean~" He cooed, pouting his lip at you in the mirror, watching your eyes rake over your body.

"Yeah, that's it, look at how good you look when I fuck you." He moaned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, his chin coming to rest in the crook of your shoulder while he watched your body move and bounce from his ministrations. "Gojo- too fast-" You whined, reaching one of your hands back between you to push weakly on his pelvis, trying to get him to slow down.

There was a dull cramping in your stomach, making you wince when Gojo fucked into you a little too hard. You chalked it up to the angle being intense combined with the sheer length of Gojo's cock, he was probably hitting your cervix--being the reason for the cramping.

Gojo had one hand wrapped around your torso, keeping you flush against his chest, the other still holding your face, making you watch your pleasure-contorted expressions in the mirror. "Huh? 'S it too much? Can't take it?" Gojo teased, making his voice whiny and high-pitched. "Y-es t-too much- too fast nghhh-" Gojo slid his hand from your face down to your neck, gripping your throat slightly he tipped your head back towards him, making your body arch into him.

"Nah, you can take it, mama." He whispered in your ear, making you whine. "You always take my cock so well, don't you?" He cooed, encouraging you. When you continued to mindlessly cry on his cock, he tightened his grip on your throat, "Don't you?" He repeated, emphasizing his words with a mean thrust. "Toru-" You whined, tears forming in your eyes as he fucked you spiraling towards your high.

"Oooh fuck- you gonna cum? S-squeezin' me so tight pretty- fuck-" Gojo grit through his teeth into your neck. He felt your cunt squeeze tightly around him, making his eyes roll back in his head. When they returned to their rightful place in his sockets, he dragged his gaze between your legs, ready to watch how your little hole squeezed around him as you came, but something else caught his attention. A red streak of blood was slowly dripping down the inside of your thigh, coming from your cunt. It was then he noticed the base of his cock was red as well.

It didn't take him long to figure out what was happening. You always took him with little to no complaints. Your hand had been pressed to your pelvis like you were in pain when you told him to slow down, and now you were bleeding--you had started your period, in the middle of sex, all over his cock. Gojo knew you, he knew you would be embarrassed and make him stop if he pointed out what was happening.

He couldnt do that to you, after all you were so close to your orgasm. He smirked to himself, the hand wrapping around your body slid down to your cunt to rub circles into your sensitive little bud, getting the crimson colored liquid on his fingers as he did so--not that he minded in the slightest. He sort of found it endering, it was very intamate. His ego also spiked at the thought that he had literally fucked your period out of you--or he chose to see it that way.

He kept his hand firm on your neck, keeping your face pointed to the ceiling to avoid you opening your eyes and seeing the bloody mess between your thighs, turning your off. "Toru- T-toru-" You whined, gripping his wrist as he continued to rub your clit in circles with his middle finger, his cock hammering into your g-spot. "Cum for me mama, cum all over my cock-" He groaned into your ear, watching your body in the mirror.

"Yeahhhhh- fuck- thats it-" He smiled, feeling your cunt constrict around his cock, your jaw going slack as you were pushed over the edge. Your eyes squeezed shut as you came, your orgasm hitting your so much harder than usual, probably thanks to the angle he had you in. "Fucking- godddd~" Gojo groaned, feeling his own cock twitch as spurts of his hot cum filled your cunt, mixing inside you with your arousal and blood.

He bit his lip watching the fluids leak out around him, his eyes fighting to stay forward as he wanted to watch how your body jerked and spasmed while you came. "Take it baby, take my fucking cum-" He whispered breathily in your ear, slowly humping his hips to the hilt of your cunt, making sure he fucked every last drop of his cum inside you.

He giggled, watching your body weakly twitch in the mirror. He could see your eyes open once more, staring at the ceiling. Gojo kissed a trail from the crook of your next to your ears before he giggled, "Don't freak out~" He said teasingly before he let go of your throat, allowing you to get out of the uncomfortable arch he had you in.

"Wha-?" You were about to question what he meant when you instinctively looked between your legs, your eyes taking in the bloody mess on your thighs and the base of his cock. You slapped a hand over your face instantly, the need to curl up in a ball and hide coming over you--as well as the need to kill Satoru for not telling you you had started your period during sex. "Satoru!!" You yelled behind your hand, the hand on his pelvis smacking against him a couple times in frustration.

"I didnt want you to be embarassedddd~ I wanted you to cum before you-" "Satoruuuuu." You groaned, interrupting him as you covered your face with both hands, cringing at your own body's horrible timing. He laughed, embracing your body with his larger one he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you entirely. "Baby, it's okay," He giggled, kissing the hands that covered your face. You felt so hot, and it wasn't from your arousal. "One shower and it's like it never even happened~." He said, trying to comfort you.

"It's probably all over the floor, ughhhh.." You moaned, your words coming out muffled from behind your hands. "I'll clean it up mama, it's my apology to you." He said although he would clean it up no matter what, Satoru always took such good care of you after he finished blowing your back out. "Bet your cramps are gone now too, huh?" He added, making you tip your head up, looking at him through your fingers.

"How did you know I had cramps?" You asked, taking a second to notice that he was right, the ache in your stomach was gone. "Dumb question, I know you better than I know myself." He said smugly, kissing your hands again. "They do say orgasms take away period pain," Gojo added, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You groaned, trying to force down your smile before you dropped your hands to his thighs and rubbed the skin there, sighing. "Whatever you say.. just.. clean me up please, I feel gross." You cringed. "Anything for you princess." Gojo smiled, pressing a string of kisses to your face before he pulled his softened cock out to clean you up.

Geto:

The dark-haired man stared down at your ass, mouth agape as he used a large hand to grip your waist, the other pulling your pussy lips apart so he could get a perfect view of your cunt sucking in his cock. He shook his head, groaning when you slowly sat down on him, repeating that process, up and down, up and down, teasingly fucking yourself on his cock while you faced away from him, your feet hooked on his thighs.

Geto groaned as he relaxed into the bed, his hand that was holding your hip coming up to cradle his head, laying it against the pillows behind him. You turned your head back to look at him, he looked so sexy. His hair was pulled half up half down in his signature smile, a faint blush was dusting on his cheeks as he stared at where the two of you were connected with a smirk.

His eyes darted up to yours when he noticed you staring at him, making his smile grow, his head tilting to the side. "Whatcha lookin' at baby?" He asks, pulling his hand back to leave a loud smack against the fat of your ass, making you wince at the painful pleasure. "You're 's handsome sugu~" You praise, humping your hips back against his pelvis faster.

Geto shows you his teeth, a pretty smile gracing his features. "Thank you, baby, you're pretty cute too, takin' my dick so well~" He cooed, his eyes darting between your cunt and your face screwed in pleasure. "'S it feel good right there?" He asked, noticing how your eyes rolled back in your head when he humped his hips up into yours, his dick slamming into your sweet spot. "Mhm." You said softly, your head falling back as you sat on his thighs, bracing yourself on the strong muscles as you bounced up and down on him, the new angle pressing his fat tip right against where you needed him most.

"Oh shit," He groaned, both of his hands flying down to grip your waist at the new position. "Fuck- feels like 'm so deep like this." He says, his jaw dropping in a small o as you do your best to bounce through the burn of your thighs. "Sugu~" You whine, turning your head once more to look at him through your peripheral vision, "Help me," You whine, your bouncing growing slopy at the increasing burn in your muscles.

"You gettin' tired baby?" He asks, soothingly rubbing his hands over your hips. "Yeah.. Fuck me Sugu, please." You beg, squeezing your cunt around him, causing him to let out a drawn-out groan. "Ohhh- fuck- okay baby, yeah, I'll help you." Before you're able to register what's happened, Geto has you face down on the bed, your arms pinned behind your back as he restrains you with one arm, the other softly teasing the rim of your puckered hole as he ruthlessly pounds his cock into you.

"Ngh- S-s-uguuu-" You whine, being able to do nothing but cry into the sheets as he bullies your cunt with his thick cock. "What~" He cooes, "Wanted me to help right baby? I'm helping. What do you say?" He teases, pressing his thumb harder against your tight hole. "T-thank you t-thank you Sugu- fuck!" You cry out when his thumb breaches the tight ring, his fingers resting on the slope of your ass while he slowly thrusts his thumb in and out of you.

"Fuck, you get so tight when I play with your ass baby, you're so dirty." He teases, picking up the pace of his cock. You continue to cry into the sheets, taking all the pleasure he gives you with no complaints. Geto smiles down at you, watching your eyes roll back in your head repeatedly every time his dick thrusts inside you. His eyes drop down to admire the way you're taking him, but his hips freeze when he notices blood on his cock, some of it starting to drip down the back of your thigh, making him panic.

"Fuck, you're bleeding." He says, pulling his cock and thumb out. He notices then that his entire cock is coated in a light pink liquid, the color thanks to how much arousal you were leaking out of your cunt. You whipped you're head around, a panicked, "What?!" leaving your lips as Geto used his thumb to spread open your folds, wondering how deep the bleeding was. Had he been too rough? Fuck, he felt so bad.

"I'm sorry, fuck I think I was too rough, are you okay? Does it hurt?" He rushed, soothing his hand over your ass as he waited for you to speak, his cock hanging in the air between you, still hard. It was then that you realized the ache in your tummy--the unforgettable feeling of period cramps. "Shit." You mumbled while Geto sat back on his heels, apologizing profusely. "No baby, It's, fuck it's okay you didnt do anything." You said, sitting up from the position he had you in to face him, a hand coming down to cup over your cunt to prevent blood from leaking onto the sheets.

Geto looked at you with worry still in his eyes, his hands shaking. He wasn't afraid of blood, but his biggest fear was hurting you, even unintentionally. You placed your hand on his thigh, looking into his eyes. You took a deep breath before you spoke, "I uh.. I started my period.." You said, your face turning a deep crimson. "My app said I was supposed to start in a couple days so I thought I was okay but.. fuck.. this is so embarrassing." You sighed, laughing nervously as you looked anywhere but at Geto.

Geto felt like he was ten pounds lighter, a loud sigh of relief fell from his lips before he leaned forward, his forehead landing on your shoulder. "Thank god," He heaved, his hands wrapping around your body, your arm cupped underneath your cunt being awkwardly squished between the two of you. "I know you're okay, but maybe we should stick to.. softer sex for a while. I think I almost had a heart attack thinking I hurt you." He admitted, keeping his head on your shoulder.

You giggled, your free hand wrapping around his shoulders. It made you laugh how you were comforting him in this situation, but the lack of attention on yourself took away a lot of the embarrassment so you were happy to baby him. "Whatever you want baby, sorry to scare you." You laughed, your hands starting to thread through his hair. After another long sigh, he raised his head from your shoulder and dropped his gaze briefly to your covered cunt before looking back into your eyes.

"So.. you're not in any pain?" He asks, to which you nod. "Yes, promise, I'm fine." You respond, your hand sliding down the side of his face to caress his cheek. Suguru thinks for a moment, looking around the room before he looks back at you. "So... wanna keep going?" He asks, making your jaw drop as you staired at him wordlessly.

Honestly, your first instinct was to say no.. but after you thought about it for another half a second you figured, fuck it. Geto's cock still hung erect between his legs, still coated in the pink liquid, and your own arousal was still very much prevalent between your legs. It was also very clear to you that Geto did not mind the blood, and he was certainly not the kind of man who was clean in bed. "Yeah, why not." You responded, crashing your lips to his.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #geto smut #choso smut #nanami smut #nanami x you #jjk nanami #choso x you #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #getou suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #getou suguru x reader #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x you #geto x reader #choso x y/n

[sovaharbor]

no offense but also full offense, despite me still very much enjoying myself story-wise, the level design for the maps in heavensward are absolutely fucking atrocious lmfao. like i Understand mmo maps in particular tend to be larger + a bit harder to navigate because they Want you to waste time either to sell you on mounts and/or take up even a fraction more of your lovely lovely subscription time. ive been playing mmos since i was a wee child. but. my god. this is just outright obnoxious in a way that not even a lot of f2p mmos are lol.

#i really don't understand Why either..... it's so weird. i hope the later expansions arent like this. #bc rn i had to ask a friend to help ferry me around the map bc i was just going insane navigating on my own. #like it's just.......unnecessarily huge and PURPOSEFULLY hard to navigate in a way that's Too obvious. like. #i mean there's a lot of spots on these maps where i'm like ah yes LOGICALLY there should be a connection here between the higher hill and #this lower part.....only to make my way over and realize oh. nope. it is in fact walled off. and the map did not convey it very well at all #for one thing. but also it just. it's SO OBVIOUSLY THERE ON PURPOSE. #like i REALLY enjoyed the map designs in ARR. for how much of a slog the filler was i still wasn't like. going absolutely bonkers trying to #navigate the maps there. but hoooolllllyyyy shiiiiiitttt i hate coerthas. #WHICH SUCKS BC THE MAPS *LOOK* GORGEOUS. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. #but navigating them is so HELLISH. #anyways time to queue for another msq trial woooooooooo #pray for me to finally fucking hit 60 i need my goddamn ARMOR #summer's text tag

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - jealousy

miguel gets jealous possessive after a new intern flirts with you this is part of the same universe as my call oneshot!

Being 2nd in charge of the multiverse is... honestly not that hard for you. It’s mostly just co-leading, and being a secretary. Lyla helps out a bunch, but sometimes, a sassy AI can only do so much. 

Jess informed you of a new intern she recruited. Apparently, he’s having his first day today, which means you’ll probably have to do a quick run-through of things with him later. 

For now, it’s your fated duty to sit with Miguel at his desk so he doesn’t get all pouty later. He starts huffing and puffing when you aren’t near, takes it out on the kids sometimes. 

Thanks to your suggestion, Miguel invested in a nice desk and swivel chair for the office, so now it looks more like an actual workspace instead of a maniac’s plot room. (either way, he his one lmao)

Since Lyla’s gone for the time being, you’re standing up on the office platform, tapping away at a multitude of screens. Miguel lays lazily in the office chair, swiveled up behind you to rub his face into your upper back, as well as run his hands along your tummy. 

“Hun, you gotta let go. I needa tour the intern.” You mutter, closing in on an ID photo of the recruit.

“No.“

“Well, if I don’t do it, then who will?“ You ask. 

“Jess.“

“She’s busy on her break. Pregnant women need breaks, you know.“

“Ugh. I don’t want you to leave.“ He whines. squeezing you tighter. 

You start squirming out of his grip, pulling his pinky off of your stomach. Inching away, you push Miguel away by his head. Reluctantly, he starts letting you go, lazily running his hands onto the skin of your hips and lower thighs before letting go. 

“I’ll see you in a bit, baby.“ You say, scuffing up his hair with your palm. Gracefully, you leap down from the platform, somersaulting onto the floor and skating out the exit. You hop over a few stray cardboard boxes. 

Miguel watches you stroll away, and fixes his hair back into place. 

Lyla magically appears, phasing in and out with a different sly look each time. She snickers, flickering all around Miguel’s head. 

“Whipped.“

“Shut the fuck up.“

. . .

Miguel’s blood starts to boil as soon as you roll in with that stupid, bastard of an intern. He’s too close to you for comfort, so close to his arm nudging yours... Miguel’s teeth start to clench, his fangs close to drawing blood from his mouth. He’s paying too much attention to you, there’s a vibe he gets that he hates to his core. 

Everything about him is aggravating; the blonde hair, the snarky smirk, all of it.  

“...and this is Miguel’s office!“ You say, gesturing your hand to the majority of the area. 

“Sweet, nice to meet the bossman.“

Bossman, his ass. Miguel would only ever let you call him bossman. 

“Miguel! Come down!“ You yell, and his heart warms in his chest. He turns around from his standing form on the office platform, eyeing the intern in order to scare him a bit. 

“Hey, what’s up man! Glad to finally meet the man behind the slaughter!“ The intern exclaims, his hands rested on his hips. 

Miguel fights every urge to both roll his eyes and tackle the recruit, keeping a somewhat straight face on. He chuckles a little, not a single trace of a smile on his face. 

“Heh, yeah? Excited to meet the bossman?“ Miguel taunts, but it looks like the intern can’t tell he is. 

“Heck yeah dude! Where do I start?“

Miguel starts nodding a little, plastering on a face smile, chuckling a bit...

Before he throws the entire office chair at the recruit. Not to hit you, though. He’d never, ever hit you. 

Instantly, the intern turns away, shielding his body with his hands. In the nick of time, though, you latch your webbing onto the chair, slinging it away to side before it could harm anyone. You cross your arms. 

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry about tha- MIGUEL!“ You scream. 

And he throws a literal file cabinet at the man. Again, you latch it out of way without problem. 

“What th'heck, man?! What’s your fuckin’ problem?!“ The intern yells, spreading his arms out. 

“My fuckin’ problem is you nagging my wife!“ He roars. 

“Wait a sec- she’s your wife?“

Miguel then  leaps down from the platform, chin held up high in a sinister glare. Slowly, he steps over towards the both of you, fixing his eyes on the intern the entire time. 

Miguel’s tall, really tall compared to the newbie. He pokes his finger to the recruit, leaning in real close. 

“Stay at least 5 feet away from my wife at all times.“ Miguel utters, and you kinda feel bad for the new guy. 

You cross your arms. “C’mon, Miguel. He’s literally new, take it easy on him!” You say back, and Miguel pouts, whines. Possessively, he reaches over to you, pulling in you in by the hip to try to soothe you. It doesn’t work, and you present yourself from giving into his needy touches.  

And then, you turn around back to the newbie. “Gosh, I’m so sorry about that! He’s usually not like this-”

“Man, fuck this.“ The intern exclaims, taking a few steps back in agitation. “Take me back home, I ain’t dealin’ with this shit!“

He storms off, kicking a stray cardboard box on the way out. 

“Aw, crap.“

“Finally.“

You swerve back around, hands on your hips. “Miguel, that was uncalled for.”

“Yes it was! He was smothering all over you!“ He yells, throwing his hands up in the air like it was the most obvious thing ever. 

“Well, now thanks to you, we lost a recruit.“

“One of literally thousands!“

“And now, there’s papers everywhere on the floor!“

“Shhh, honey, I’ll clean it up later.“

Ignoring your frown, Miguel finally pulls you into him, pressing your lower back into his own with a nose into your hair.

“I saw the way he put his arm around you. He was flirting with you too. Hated it.“ Miguel utters. 

“When?“ You ask.

“On the surveillance.“ He says, and you sigh. He’s right, the guy was flirting with you for a bit, but you chose to ignore it so you could get over with the tour faster. 

“Eh, he gave me the heebie jeebies from the beginning.“ You say, and Miguel automatically squeezes you tighter into him, a deep grumble bellowing from his inner throat.

“I’m never letting you tour anyone ever again.“ Miguel admits.

“After that? Go ahead.“ You scoff, and finally, he sighs in relief. 

He tries drags you back to the office platform again, but then forgets that he threw the chair, grumbling in regret. Instead, he just hovers behind you for the rest of the day, occasionally pressing a smooch to your head. 

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv lyla #atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #fluff #romance #x reader #reader insert #lyla #spiderman #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

[rowarn]

PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT 1

simon riley / reader

FIND PART TWO || read the full thing on ao3

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

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

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

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

part 1: 17.8k total: 35.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not for me,” was his clipped response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning,” you called. 

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

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

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

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

“Nah,” he grunted, “Gotta go soon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your panties are feeling awfully sticky. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That also meant the customers tended to get rather unruly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your coworker called your name and you paused.

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

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

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

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

“Get out,” he snaps at your coworker. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That seems to do it for the 4 men and they rambunctiously cheer and slam their hands on the table obnoxiously. You think you hear her promise to be back with their drinks as she pulls you away from the table. You both hide away in the staff room again and she holds both your hands in hers.

“Go on home,” she says softly.

“I-I’ll pay you back for the drinks–” she shushes you quickly when you start.

“Don’t even worry about it,” she coos, “Go home.”

With a gentle nudge to the back entrance, she casts you one last kind smile before slipping out of the staff door. 

You don’t even remember the walk home, your mind completely fuzzy. But you’re sobbing again by the time you stumble into the door. You collapse onto the floor in front of your couch, wailing into the cushions as the weight of the night fully and entirely collapses on you. You can barely breathe through your tears, hiccups and coughs breaking up the endless crying only to resume when you catch your breath. 

You have no idea how long you sit there, crying louder and harder than you have in a very, very long time. 

You hear your front door creak open before the living room light flips on. You go completely stiff, your crying finally going silent as you hear the familiar heavy footsteps step into the living room before they fall still when he sees you.

He calls your name, soft and gentle in a way that is completely unlike him. Simon isn’t soft, he talks to you in a cold, apathetic and teasing tone. He’s always clipped and blunt. Sure, he’s kind but never gentle.

Just the sweet tone makes your lips wobble and suddenly you’re sobbing again. His boots hit the floor fast, taking quick, big strides so he can reach you as fast as he possibly can. Two strong hands hook under your arms and turn you towards him. He takes a seat beside you on the floor and tugs you into lap.

You melt into his chest, secured by his embrace as he holds you. One hand cups the back of your head and the other wraps around your back. 

“You didn’t answer your phone when I called,” he explained his arrival, lips pressed to the crown of your head, “Got worried so I rushed over.”

You grip his hoodie in your hands, anchoring yourself to him as you cry and cry. He remains silent, content to hold you and let you cry out everything you’re feeling. 

Just having him there, holding you and comforting you, is enough to ease your tears until you’re just a hiccuping, sniffling mess. You’re taking those quick, stuttering gasping breaths that signify the end of your meltdown and Simon slowly eases his hold on you. 

He cups your cheek in one hand, raising your head up so he can really look at you. He rubs a thumb under your eye, wiping away your tears. He looks so concerned, brows furrowed and a frown on his lips. 

The sight of his face makes your lips wobble again, “Si…” you finally manage to choke out.

His gaze softens immediately, his other hand coming up to cup your face as well. He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“You want to tell me what happened?” he finally asks, letting go of your face to hold your waist, keeping you curled up in his lap. 

You think about it. You want to tell him all about it, to get it off of your chest and figure out how the hell you’re supposed to move past it. But you know that if you tell him, he’s going to march his ass to your job the second he gets a chance and put your boss’s head through the wall and find those assholes from the table. 

You really can’t afford to lose your job. Your bills are tight enough as it is, you’re scraping by by the skin of your teeth. If you’re jobless for even a week, it’s going to fuck everything up. You’ll never make rent and you can’t end up on the street. 

“Just a…bad shift…” you supply lamely.

Simon stares at you, jaw set and tense, “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact you’re lying in the first place or the fact you don’t think you can tell me what really happened.”

“Simon…” you whine, pushing yourself off of his lap, “Just let it go, please.”

He follows your lead when you stand up. He still hasn’t taken his boots off, still too concerned about you to care. Every step he takes is a loud sound of his weight in those boots. 

You pace back and forth, arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m not letting it go,” he responds, “I think you know me better than that.”

“Simon, please!” you feel the tears returning again and you suddenly realize how tired you are from crying. Your eyes are sore and you just want to sleep. 

“I want to know what happened,” he argues, clearly growing exasperated. 

You know he’s not going to let it go. He knows you too well to believe any lies. You press your hands to your face and let out a noise of frustration and despair. You can feel his eyes on you, unwavering and firm. You feel hot, like you’re overheating and suffocated. With trembling hands, you haphazardly tug at the hoodie – you need it off or you’re going to go mad. 

Simon reaches forward to help you, watching your rising panic but you slap his hands away. He looks stupefied at your reaction but retracts his hands. 

But you can’t get the damned thing off, you’re uncoordinated and clumsy, unable to pull your arms through the sleeves so you can get it off. Why won’t it come off? 

“G-Get it off,” you finally cry, completely unaware of the pure horror in your voice.

Simon’s hands are back, “I’ve got you. I’ll get it off ya.” 

True to his word, he tugs it up and it slips over your head with ease. You feel like you can take a deep breath finally, feeling the cool air of your living room against your skin again. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to calm yourself. 

He says your name softly but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. You jump when you feel the ghost of his fingers against your stomach – the skin is bare and it makes your eyes fly open. You look down and remember that your shirt was completely torn open, the hoodie had been hiding it, and now Simon is seeing. You can see the realization in his face.

He’s not an idiot. If anything, he’s more intelligent than anyone you’ve ever known. 

Suddenly your stomach turns and you place a hand over your mouth. You’re running down the hallway, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet as you heave. 

You don’t hear any movement from Simon. He doesn’t follow you to the bathroom. You’re briefly thankful for the escape as the nausea disappears before you suddenly crave to have him near you again.

“Simon!” you cry, his footfalls an immediate response. 

He crouches beside you, placing a hand on your back, “You finished?”

You nod, spitting one last time into the toilet, “I-I want to shower.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he stands, stepping past you to turn on the shower for you. He places a consoling hand on the top of your head in passing before he goes to leave you alone. You reach out and grab his hand before he can get too far.

He pauses and looks at you, easily understanding. He brushes his thumb over your hand, “Not goin’ anywhere, love.”

He takes a step outside of the bathroom and stands there, hands held in front of him as if he were on guard, like a security guard. You flush the toilet and shakily strip your clothes off before stepping into the shower, letting the warm spray ease your sore body and clear your sinuses. You’re terribly stuffy from crying so you can’t even smell your grapefruit body wash this time.

You finish your shower, making sure you scrub your body as best you can before you step out and wrap a towel around your body.

“Are you hungry?” Simon suddenly asks.

“No…” your tone is flatter than you had intended and you realize that you’re completely emotionally drained. 

“Alright,” is all he says in reply.

You approach the door, where he’s still standing. You place your hand against his back and he quickly steps aside to let you by. You hear his boots behind you as he follows you to your bedroom. 

You sit on the bed, completely exhausted. Simon makes himself busy with going through your dresser, pulling out some clothes for you to wear before he places them on the bed beside you. You don’t make any movements. 

He sighs, softly saying your name before crouching in front of you, taking your hands in his. 

“Was it your boss?” he asks softly. 

“Him and some assholes I was serving drinks to,” you tiredly answer. You don’t have it in you to fight in anymore. 

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” he pries, squeezing your hands.

“Because I know you, Si,” you sniffle, “You’re going to go down there and put them all in the hospital when you find them.”

“And?” he scoffs, “They fuckin’ deserve it. No one gets to put their hands on you like that and get away with it.”

“Because I can’t lose my job, Si!” you finally cry, “I barely make ends meet as it is! I-If I lose my job, what am I supposed to do? I won’t be able to afford rent. I’ll be on the streets!”

“I would never let that happen,” he says firmly, “You will never be on the streets, love. I will always take care of you, you know that.”

“I can’t do that to you, Simon,” you mutter, sniffling again, “Y-You already have so much on your plate I don’t want to be another problem you have to deal with.”

“Is that what you think?” he scoffs, standing up, “That I deal with you? You’re important to me, I take care of you because I never want anything to happen to you. I’m not going to let you work at that shithole for a minute longer.”

You hang your head, unable to supply any arguments to him anymore.

“I’m going to make you something small to eat. You’re going to eat and drink some water and then you’re going to get some rest, understood?” he gives a satisfied hum when you nod your head in compliance. 

Once you’re alone, you go over his words again. You’re important to him, that’s what he said. It was the most clear he had ever been with his feelings towards you since you confessed your feelings when you were young. 

As you methodically got dressed in the clothes he picked out for you, you reminisced. Memories of him were always something that made you inexplicably happy – except for one memory.

You were 14 and he was 17 at the time. You’d known each other for your entire childhood after his mother had brought him over for a playdate despite the age difference and the fact you were closer in age to his brother. 

He had always looked after you and taken care of you, walking you home after school and simply looking after you when your parents were busy. It was inevitable that you would grow feelings for him. You remember the way your heart would race every time you looked at him. You remember telling your friends that he was your boyfriend, hoping he wouldn’t find out.

You had told him one evening when he was hanging out, having dinner with your family, that you liked him – like liked. 

You remember how you cried into your pillow night after night when he rejected you. Told you flat out that you were an idiot and to drop it and never, ever bring it up again. That he didn’t feel the same. And that was that. 

You never brought it up again. 

But the crush never once waned. You decided that his friendship was more important than your feelings for him so you would never let him know. And that’s how it had been ever since. 

Simon’s voice calling your name ripped you from your reminiscing. You tied the drawstrings of the sweats he had picked out and quickly made your way to the kitchen. 

Simon was washing a pan by the time you arrived but he nodded to a plate he set on the counter for you. It was just a small omelet he made, complete with a light drizzle of ketchup. 

He knew you well, you couldn’t deny. You picked up the fork he’d placed on the plate for you and slowly began to eat. 

After being sick, your stomach was painfully empty so you were happy to have something on it once again. Simon quietly finished washing the dishes he had dirtied before he placed them on the dish rack and dried his hands. 

“Um, Simon?” you called softly, receiving a grunt in reply, “Didn’t you have something going on tonight?”

“Was gonna be out the lads,” he responded, “Doesn’t matter, can hang out with those idiots anytime.”

“You shouldn’t talk about your friends like that,” you said, shaking your head as you took a final bite of your omelet.

“Aint my friends,” he reached down and took your plate from you, tossing it into the sink.

“Simon Riley doesn’t have friends?” you asked, eyes following him as he locked up your apartment and started to turn out the lights.

“Got you,” he said as you followed him down the hall, “All I need.”

A fond smile made its way across your face as he yanked his shirt above his head. You began to make yourself comfortable in bed, trying to keep your eyes off of him as he got dressed for bed. Despite the way you wanted to take the chance to look at him.

Friends. That’s what you were, you reminded yourself. 

Finally, he climbed into bed beside you, making himself comfortable before you turned out the light. 

Yet, despite your exhaustion from the night, you felt like you couldn’t close your eyes. You felt like you couldn’t relax. The tension in your body was so much that you were sore. Like you had gone to the gym instead of went to work. 

“Simon..?” you whispered into the dark. He was silent for a second before he hummed in response, “Can I…tell you what happened tonight?”

He was quiet again but you felt him move, a hand blindly reaching over to you to find your hands. You took it in both of yours, nervously fidgeting with his fingers. 

“This stupid group of guys were sloshed beyond belief,” you began to tell him, aware of his gaze on you through the dark, “They were just chattin’ shit, saying they’d tip me if I showed them my tits,” he scoffed beside you, clearly displeased, “I said no and tried to leave and they wouldn’t let me. One of them ripped my shirt and tried to pull my bra up so I slapped him.”

“Fuckin’ bastard deserved to get his teeth knocked down his throat,” Simon growled from beside you.

“I got away and went to the staff room but my boss came in and he was so fucking angry, Si,” your voice shook as you remembered the way his face had been so red and a look of pure hate had been in his eyes, “He grabbed my throat and pinned against the lockers. He was angry that I had struck a customer.”

“Of course that’s all that bastard would be angry about,” Simon spit, not bothering to hide his distaste.

“I tried to tell him that I was defending myself but he said–” your voice broke and you struggled to blink back the tears. Simon sat up a bit, pulling you into his chest, letting you curl against him, the rapid hum of his heart loud in your ear, easing you immediately, “He said that he didn’t care if they put me over the table and fucked me, he would fire me if I didn’t apologize to them.”

Simon’s arms tightened around you immediately, cursing under his breath, “He made you apologize to them?” 

You nod your head, “It was so humiliating, Si. B-But I just didn’t want to lose my job. They just laughed at me and made a joke of it.”

“Pieces of shit,” he hisses, pressing a kiss against your temple, “They better hope I don’t find them.”

You’d really love to see them blubbering on their knees, crying and terrified like you had been. They wouldn’t be so awful in the face of a guy bigger and stronger than them – someone like Simon. 

“I should have gone to the bar tonight,” he sighed, “Even though you told me not to, I wanted to.”

“It’s okay, Si,” you sniffle, “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

You wrap your leg around his waist and snuggle deeper into his chest, finally feeling content to sleep so long as you got to be in his arms. 

You wake up late, well into the afternoon. You’re groggy and struggle to pull yourself out of bed. Simon isn’t in bed, so you force yourself up in search of him. 

As you left, you noticed that the clothes you were wearing last night were gone and weren’t in the laundry basket. You knew for a fact that you left them on the floor. 

He’s relaxing on the couch as usual. His hair is wet and you can smell your body wash wafting off of him when you crawl onto the couch beside him. He reaches a hand out and pets your head gently as a greeting.

“Sleep well?” he asks. You nod your head, “Hungry?” You nod again.

He huffs through his nose and stands up, pressing a fleeting kiss to the top of your head to go prepare something for you to eat. The sound of Simon bustling about the kitchen filled the apartment and you found yourself relaxing into the couch. 

“Simon?” you called, getting to your feet to make your way to the kitchen. 

He had his back to you as he fried up something in the pan but he hummed in response nonetheless.

“Where did my clothes from last night go?” you ask softly.

He pauses his stirring of the food, “Threw them out. Figured you wouldn’t want to see them when you woke up.”

“Oh,” you respond. 

Your heart feels full at his show of care. It was quiet actions like that that just made you feel so…in love, you think before correcting yourself. Fluttery. Cared for. Loved. 

No, he doesn’t love you.

You shake your head and move to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, going to sit on the couch to wait for Simon to finish cooking. 

The day was spent like that, just you and Simon in your flat. Him just keeping you company and keeping your mind off of things. 

You were curled up against him, listening to the beating of his heart and watching the movie he had decided to play. It was peaceful. He smelled nice, like you. And he was so comfortable beneath you, firm and big. 

His thighs were spread wide, one of your legs thrown over one of his, only serving to make you more aware of how big and firm he was. Solid. Well-built. 

Handsome.

You cast a glance at his face. His brown eyes were half-lidded as he mindlessly nibbled at his bottom lip. They looked soft and shiny. You wondered what he tasted like, how he kissed.

Was he rough? Soft? Did he like to use tongue. 

You’d never kissed anyone before. You wondered if he would be okay with that. You knew some guys liked experienced partners and some liked them inexperienced. You wonder what he preferred. 

Just the idea of kissing him had your heart hammering in your chest and your face burning. You quickly looked at the TV, snuggling closer to him. He squeezed you closer, hand mindlessly rubbing up and down your back. 

Kissing Simon…you pictured him over you, cupping your cheeks in the way he always does. You imagine him pressing his pretty lips against yours, moving them softly against yours. You imagine what it would feel like for him to pin you down, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you moaned and whimpered beneath him, unable to move anywhere because he’s so much bigger and stronger than you. In charge. 

Your pussy clenches around nothing, already starting to drip into your panties. Suddenly you sit up, eyes wide and cheeks flush. Simon looks perturbed, an eyebrow raised at your sudden movement.

“I’ve got to take a shower,” you shakily supply before fleeing to the safety of the bathroom.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hand over your mouth to quiet your heavy breathing. 

What the hell was wrong with you? How the hell could you be thinking about sex and getting turned on after yesterday? How could you be thinking about Simon like that when he was right there? What the fuck was your problem?

You hastily reached over and turned the shower on, the pipes clanking loudly as the water flowed through them. 

Shouldn’t you be the opposite of horny after what happened yesterday? Maybe you really were broken. 

You strip and quickly step into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would possibly go. You needed it to hurt so you would stop acting like such a freak. Like a slut. 

You fight back tears as you begin to wash up. 

By the time your shower is done, you’re exhausted again. You dry off and wrap the towel around yourself, opening the door to find Simon standing on the other side. You jump and gasp, placing a hand over your heart to calm the beating.

“You scared me!” you whine, slipping past him to the bedroom.

“Wanted to check on you,” he says, following slowly behind you, watching as you pick out clothes.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “I just got really tired and I’d like to turn in early, that’s all.”

“Alright,” he replies, standing there for a second before making his way back to the door, “Just call if you need anything.”

“I will!” you offer him a smile, watching as he leaves, closing the door behind him. 

You quickly dress and climb into bed, turning the lights out before squeezing your eyes shut to will yourself to sleep. Surprisingly, it came quickly and easily – maybe you were more tired than you thought. 

Little did you know that Simon took the opportunity of you sleeping early to slip away and take a little 15 minute walk. 

When you start to dream, you’re acutely aware that it’s a dream. You’re not sure how but, you just know that you’re sleeping and none of this is real.

But god it feels real and you want it to be real so you go along with it. 

Simon is there, you’re both in your bed. He’s got his shirt off and he’s on top of you, kissing your neck softly. Sweetly. 

He doesn’t smell like your body wash anymore, he smells like his – a crisp, musky scent that you love so dearly. And he’s so warm against you. 

You realize that you’re only wearing a pair of panties when his lips suddenly attach to your breast, mouthing at your nipple. His tongue swirls over the bud and it feels so good you can’t help but moan. 

“Si…” you sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. He rewards you by surging up and pressing his lips against yours. He tastes vaguely like mint and it’s intoxicating. So simple, nothing special or poetic. Just mint. Simon. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kiss him back. Kissing is easy, you hazily think. You just move your lips in time with his and it falls into place. 

Simon’s hips move against yours and you cry out when you feel the hard swell of his cock press against you through his sweatpants and your panties. He’s so hard and it's so hot even through the layers of clothes. 

“Si…” you whimper again.

“I’m here, love,” he coos, “I’ve got you.”

He rocks his hips against yours and fuck, it feels good. You eagerly spread your legs and find yourself wishing that the panties weren’t in the way. You’d love to hear the sticky sound of your pussy against his cock through his sweats. You’d love to see the stain of your slick against them, knowing that you marked him as yours like that. 

You feel hot, that tense warmth growing in your tummy. The promise of pleasure that you’ve never been able to experience. Maybe Simon could supply it. You’re sure he could, actually, you convince yourself.

If he just keeps going, keeps rutting his hips like that, you could cum all messy in your panties. Just for him. Only for him. 

Just as you swear it’s going to wash over you, your eyes fly open and you gasp. Your entire body feels hot and sweaty and you realize you’ve thrown your blanket off of your body. The sun is shining through the window and Simon is nowhere to be seen in bed. 

You swallow, your throat feeling painfully dry. 

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaks open and Simon comes in with a laundry basket. He casts a glance at you and seems to relax when he realizes you’re awake.

“Was doin’ some laundry,” he explains, turning to open your drawers to begin putting the clean clothes away.

“Oh,” you whisper, sounding hoarse, “Thank you, Si.”

As you watch him, you realize he seems tenser than usual. You sit up and bed and watch him put the clothes away until he’s finished. He stands there for a moment before looking over his shoulder at you.

“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I’ve gotta go tonight.”

“Go?” you ask, eyes going wide. You don’t want him to leave, “Go where?”

“I’ve got some work to take care of,” he replies, “Paperwork I’ve been puttin’ off. Gonna pull a late one to get it done.”

“I-I don’t want you to go,” you confess softly, trying to blink back the tears that sting your eyes. You feel so pathetic, crying because he needs to leave. But you haven’t been without him since it happened and you’re scared to be alone with just your thoughts.

“I know,” he hums, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, cupping your cheek, “I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Promise?” you ask. He nods, teasingly pinching your cheek before you smile and bat his hand away. When he pulls it back you notice his knuckles – bruised and split open. They weren’t like that last night you were sure of it, “Simon…”

He catches you looking and gives you a tense smile, “Don’t worry about it.”

He stands up and kisses your forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving you to get ready for the day. 

Thankfully, Simon remains around for the day. You notice he’s on his phone a lot more, typing away. It’s unlike him, he’s more the type to do phone calls rather than text. When you ask him about it he just waves you off with an explanation about Soap being on his ass. 

You have a feeling he’s lying but you don’t pry. 

Before he leaves, he makes you dinner. You walk him to the door, unable to stop the pout on your face when he puts his boots on. You can’t help but wish that he’d change his mind at the last second and stay with you after all. 

But he doesn’t. He pulls his balaclava over his face and slips his hood up before turning back to you. 

“Don’t cry, love,” he coos, wiping a stray tear away, “I promise I’ll get all my work done and I’ll be all yours for a good long while.”

“Okay…” you sound so miserable but you can’t bring yourself to care, “I’ll miss you.”

He brings you in for a hug, making sure to squeeze you nice and tight before he pulls back. He can’t give you his normal kiss because of the mask and that only makes you sadder. 

You don’t want him to go. You don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep him close. He makes you feel safe. He makes you feel complete. You love him so much. 

You hold onto his hoodie for as long as you can until he has to shake you off and close the door behind him. And you stand there for a long time. Like a puppy who's been left home alone for the first time, just waiting for its owners to come back because it’s scared it’s going to be alone forever. 

By the time you bring yourself to leave the door, the food Simon made you is cold. That only seems to make you feel worse. 

Then you sit on the couch and watch TV, feeling hopelessly alone. You wished you had Simon to curl into and snuggle with. The tiny couch has never felt bigger. 

You shower and brush your teeth, pouting at the sight of his toothbrush, another reminder that he isn’t there. 

Before that night at the bar, you never would have felt so isolated without him; lonely, sure. But now that you’re experiencing this gut-wrenching emptiness, you feel close to tears every time you think about him. He was truly your rock, the only thing that brought you comfort. You loved him.

You flop against the bed and let the tears fall down your temples. You love him. You do.

You’re so fucking in love with him that it hurts. Your heart aches in your chest. You want him there to hold you. 

You know he doesn’t feel the same, you know it will never become anything. But you’re willing to take whatever you can get. Just his company. You can be content so long as he’s with you, as long as he’s in your life. 

But you can think about him, imagine yourself telling him how you feel. Imagine that when he holds you close that he feels the same too. That he loves you. You want him to love you so desperately. 

You wish that he loved you. 

You curled into his pillow, sniffling pathetically as you closed your eyes. You cry yourself to sleep. 

Your eyes fly open and the gasp you let out changes to a sob. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. All you see is flashes of their faces in your head. All you can feel are their hands on you. 

A nightmare, your brain supplies but it does nothing to quell your anxiety and fear.

You reach for Simon, instinctive and desperate. But you only touch the cold mattress and you’re reminded that he isn’t home tonight. 

You fumble through the sheets to find your phone.

I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there. 

He promised.

You can barely see the screen as you look for his contact. You call him, hands trembling as you hold it to your ear. It rings and rings and rings. Then beeps and goes to voicemail.

You hang up and try again. And again. And again.

He doesn’t answer. Why won’t he answer? He promised.

You call him again but it goes straight to voicemail. You can practically feel your heart shatter in your chest. He was ignoring your calls. He ignored you. 

But he had promised he would come when you needed him. And you needed him. 

Your phone becomes completely blurry through your tears as you begin to cry in earnest. You feel hurt, betrayed, disappointed, and angry. You’re fucking angry. 

You suddenly need to let it out. So you take your phone in your hand and throw it, listening to it slam against the wall. It’s loud and the light on your screen goes out. But you don’t feel better. You’re still a mess of volatile emotions. It feels like it’s all bottled up inside you and it hurts. 

You take his pillow and grip it in your fists. You want to rip it to shreds, want to tear it open and release all your anger on it. Instead, you just slam your fists against it. 

Then you do it again. And again. And again. 

You punch the damned thing as you cry and cry. You’re sure you must be a sight. You must be making so much noise as you sob and shriek. 

You were angry at what happened to you, you were angry you had apologize to them for hurting you, you were angry because you couldn’t even sleep peacefully without being plagued by a nightmare the first night you were without Simon, and you were angry he broke his fucking promise. 

Before long, all you were doing was sobbing into his pillow – wailing and crying your broken heart out. You tire yourself out, completely exhausted of all emotions. You lay there, quietly hiccuping and sniffling, just staring into the inky darkness. 

You’re there for hours, unable to fall back asleep. The sun slowly creeps over the horizon and begins to cast an orange glow around the room. 

You can’t even find beauty in it. You’re so exhausted. Your heart aches. It’s agonizing. 

It’s early morning by the time you hear your front door open. You don’t feel excited to see him. You’re not happy he’s back. You don’t feel anything, actually. All you can do is slowly blink, gaze focused outside the window where you can faintly hear birds chirping. 

You wish you were a bird so you could fly away wherever you want. You would fly away from here right now if you could. You wanted to leave. 

You didn’t want to see Simon. You were so angry at him. You’ve never felt like this about him before. You don’t know what to do. All you can think right now is how much you hate him. 

God, you hate him. 

He’s surprisingly quiet as he walks through your apartment. You hear him push the door open, your back to him. But you can feel his eyes on you, can feel how he hovers in the doorway. 

He wanders further into the room before pausing. 

He rounds to your side of the bed and sees that you’re awake, simply staring out the window. He holds your phone up, screen clearly shattered before he places it on the table beside you. 

“You called,” he says softly, shifting anxiously on his feet. Simon’s never anxious. But he is right now, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I was just…busy. Had some unruly recruits, you know how it is.”

Your eyes finally move from the window, landing on him. He’s wearing the same thing he was last night. Just some jeans and white t-shirt. It’s a nice one, it fits him well and it looks comfy. 

Simon stands there under your gaze, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He’s not used to feeling scrutinized. And that’s exactly what your gaze feels like. 

Your eyes wander to a strange discoloration on his shirt. It’s tan, just a light stain. There’s a tiny smear of black as well. Then you spot the red on his collar, ruby red. 

He looks guilty. He would look like a kicked puppy if you didn’t know any better. This isn’t guilt because he missed your call. He’s guilty because he was too busy getting his dick wet to answer you. 

That’s why he ignored you? To fuck someone?

You’re no longer numb. You’re angry again. That overwhelming feeling that you have no idea how to let out. It’s like it just boils up inside you, like a pot boiling over. It has no place to go but out. 

You’re moving before you even have a chance to register it. You just need to show him how angry you are. Fucking furious. 

You grab the empty glass on your nightstand and wail it in his direction harder than you thought possible. Simon barely dodges, slamming himself against the wall as it shatters behind him. 

Now he looks angry. Good. Maybe he’ll feel a fraction of what you feel right now. 

“Are you out of your fucking head?” he snarls, animosity dripping off of every syllable. 

You don’t even answer, grabbing a book that you have stacked there before throwing that too. Then the second book. Then the third book. Then you throw your phone at him. Then you take the lamp, rip the plug right from the wall and throw that too. 

When you’re out of things to throw on the table you throw your pillow. It’s when you’re about to throw his pillow that he finally has enough. He rips it from your grasp and tosses it across the room. 

He’s standing there, fists balled at his sides and his shoulders heaving up and down as he tries to calm himself. 

“I hate you,” you finally spit, standing on your knees. You don’t have anything to throw so you slam your hands against his chest. You hit him, crying and sobbing as you wail over and over about how you hate him. You hate him so fucking much. 

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” you scream. You’re so loud you’re sure the neighbors can hear but you don’t care. It feels good to let your anger out on him, to punch and slap and claw at his shoulders, chest, and arms. He doesn’t do anything but stand there and let you. He’d never lay a hand on you, even when you’re doing it to him, “I needed you and you were too busy fucking some stupid whore?!”

He doesn’t say anything but he’s trembling now. You’re not sure if he’s just that angry or if he’s holding himself back from wringing your neck. 

You pause to look up at him. His jaw is set hard but he’s staring at you, his usual lazy, lidded look nowhere to be found. He looks enraged. 

“Aren’t you going to say something?” you spit, raising your hand as if you’re going to slap him across the face but you stop. You don’t want to do that. 

“Say what?” he finally responds, voice so cold you swear it drops the room’s temperature, “I have a life that doesn’t revolve around you. That’s the difference between us. You need me but I don’t need you.”

You sit back on your heels at that, the hurt clear on your face. Simon doesn’t seem to care in the slightest now, as tears trickle down your face. You must look a sight, pathetically gazing up at him as he glares down at you like you’re dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.

“You hate me?” he scoffs, “That’s just fine. We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

He turns on his heel at that and storms out of your room, slamming your bedroom door behind him. It practically rattles the walls. Then you hear the same thing from the front door. 

And you’re all alone. And you can’t do anything but cry about it. 

You find it impossible to get out of bed after that. You lay there for the rest of the day. Then all night. You fitfully sleep when you can’t bear to be awake anymore and then wake when the nightmares hit. 

Then you watch the sun come up and decide that it’s a good day to spend in bed. So you do. You sleep on and off, only waking to cry when you’re plagued with nightmares. 

You occasionally think about Simon. More than occasionally, actually. He’s always on your mind.

You think everything over and come to the conclusion that this was all your fault. From the beginning, really. You’d been keen on staying in his life since you were children, attached yourself to his side and weaseled your way into his life. Really, you gave him no choice but to put up with you. 

He was everything to you. He was right, you needed him. You didn’t have anyone else. No friends, no family, not even a pet. Just him. Always just him. 

What choice did he have other than to put up with you day after day? He didn’t need you like you needed him, after all. He’d surely been spending his days in dread of you – of your texts, your calls. 

This was probably what he was waiting for; an escape. He probably wanted to leave a long, long time ago. You were in love with him and he wanted nothing to do with you. 

What were you thinking? Actually believing that he would want to spend his days with you, taking care of you. Who were you kidding, you were just an idiot for letting yourself believe otherwise. 

You wake up one day and realize you’re not angry anymore. Just sad. You almost prefer the anger and emptiness compared to the unending waves of sadness. 

You cry all the time. Day and night. 

You try to use your phone, you want to call him but it’s broken. The screen won’t even turn on. You’re completely alone, can’t even contact somebody – not that you have anyone but him. 

God, that was embarrassing now that you thought about it. There he was going out and getting laid and you’ve been holding out for him since you were a kid. 

You’re suddenly aware of the fact you haven’t showered in days. You’ve barely eaten, only getting up once or twice to find something to nibble on in the kitchen – a slice of bread is what you usually settle on. 

You pry yourself up from your mattress and stumble to the bathroom. The clanging of pipes is louder than it’s ever been but the hot water is completely welcome. 

When you stand there, under the burning heat that makes your skin raw, you slowly sink to the shower floor. You haven’t cleaned it in a while but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You let yourself cry again, since it’s all you can do. By the time you’re done, the water is running cold and you stand up to quickly wash yourself with soap so you can at least be clean for the next few days until you can bring yourself to shower again. 

It’s when you’re crawling into bed that it suddenly dawns on you that you don’t have a job. You hadn’t shown up to your shift in days. And you don’t have Simon anymore. 

Panic takes shape and you realize you can’t relax. If you don’t find a job soon you’re going to be on your ass and homeless by next month. 

You haul yourself out of bed and begin rooting through your drawers for something to wear. 

Maybe you can go back to the bar and beg for your job back. You’ll do anything if you have to. 

You’re going to prove to yourself and to Simon that you’ll make it without him – and you won’t end up hanging from a fucking rope. 

The sunlight practically burns your skin from not feeling it in a while. Winter is coming in and it’s already damn cold out and you can see your breath. But you ignore it, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself as you book it for the bar. 

You’re filled with utter dread as soon as you open the door. There’s a couple patrons already drinking and you wonder what day it is. 

You look around, searching for your old boss. He’s nowhere on the floor so you make your way to the staff room and ultimately his office in the very back. 

You only realize you’re trembling when you raise your hand to knock on the door. But you bite back your fear when you’re reminded that you need the job. You need it. 

“Enter,” you hear his chilling voice call. You take a breath and push the door open. He freezes the second he lays eyes on you, he sports a black eye and a busted lip, “You.” 

“M-Mr. Dawson,” you shakily whisper, “I-I know I haven’t showed up in a few days and I’m really sorry but–”

“You want your job back,” he finishes, tossing his head back to laugh, “You want your fucking job back? After you sent that fucking lunatic here?”

“Sent who…?” you ask softly, willing your knees to stop quaking. 

“That asshole in the skull mask. Beat the shit out of me and my blasted customers. You think I’m going to let you back in after that?” he laughs again, “You’re out of your fucking mind, you dumb bitch.”

You wince at the insult, “I-I didn’t send him. H-He was a friend of mine and he did it on his own but–”

“You can have your job back,” he says suddenly, making you freeze, “If you come over here and bend over my desk for me.”

“What..?” you ask softly, watching him sit back and lick his lips as his eyes raked down your body.

“You heard me,” he snickers, “Bend over my desk and let me fuck you and I’ll let you have your job back.”

Granted, for a second, you think about it. You really do. To just let him do it. But you can’t. You know you can't, you would never do that to yourself. 

“N-No,” you find yourself whispering, “I won’t do that…”

His smile fades quickly when you say that and his lip curls in disgust and anger, “Should have let those blokes take you out back and leave you bloody in the alleyway like you deserve.”

You leave with your head hanging low and find yourself standing on the street, fighting tears. You only feel worse than before you went in. 

When you get home, you stand there and cry. That’s all you’ve been doing lately, crying. At this rate, Simon’s prophecy is going to come true and you’re going to be hanging from a damn rope. It sounds nice right about now, actually. Anything to stop the horrific pain that you feel. 

You crawl back into bed and don’t get back up that night. Or the next day. 

The only thing that gets you up the day after that is a painful twang in your stomach. You stumble your way to the kitchen and pull out the loaf of bread you’ve been nibbling at but frown when you see some pieces have begun to mold. 

You take a look in the fridge, finding it painfully empty. The vegetables and fruits that were in there have gone bad now. The meat you had bought was all used up from when Simon cooked. You didn’t even have any cup ramens because you opted to not buy any last time. 

So you resort yourself to tearing the moldy parts off the bread and eating what's left. 

As you stand there, you realize you feel so tired. Like your legs can’t hold you up, so you allow yourself to sink to the floor, back leaning against the cabinet. 

You almost want to laugh at yourself over what you’ve become. Eating moldy bread on the kitchen floor and crying to yourself. 

You place the bread in the refrigerator in hopes that that will stop its rotting process but you don’t have much hope. 

Then, you’re back in bed. And you’re so exhausted. It’s impossible to keep your eyes open any longer. So you sleep. 

But then you have another nightmare. You can’t even remember what it was about, you’re too exhausted to even jolt awake like you usually do. 

Instead, your eyes open and they’re already filled with tears before you even get the chance to register the fact you’re awake. 

So you lay like that. For a long time. Just staring at nothing. The tears stop on their own and you’re left exhausted as usual. It’s become your default state and you begin to wonder if you’re going to feel this broken and hurt forever. 

You zone out, letting your mind go hazy and erase all thoughts from it. 

You don’t even hear your front door open. Don’t hear the boots on the floor. Don’t hear your bedroom door open. 

You hear a call of your name and that gets your attention. But you don’t hear anything else. 

Your imagination? You don’t have a lamp anymore to turn on. You’d thrown it at Simon and it broke.

Suddenly, light floods your bedroom and you bolt up in bed. A large, familiar figure blocks your doorway, a silhouette against the now illuminated hallway. 

He calls your name again and your heart skips a beat. 

“Si?” you whisper, choking on a sob when he steps further into the room. 

He’s got you gathered up in his arms faster than you can think. He’s so warm and it feels so good to have him in your arms again. You wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him – hold him so fiercely that you’re worried you may actually break him. 

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, “It’s alright, everything’s alright.”

“S-Simon…” you can’t help but wail, clawing at the back of his hoodie as if you can feel him any closer than he already was. 

“I’m here,” he sighs, kissing the top of your head, “I’m here. It’s okay. Shit, just let it out. I fucked up, sweetheart, I did. Just breathe and we’ll make everything better, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself apologizing through tears, “I-I don’t hate you, Si. I don’t, I promise. I-I was just mad. I’m sorry I was mean.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he consoles you, cupping the back of your head as you sob, “I’m the one who fucked everything up. It was a fuckin’ mistake.”

You can’t even formulate a response, too choked up with your cries that you let out into the soft cotton of his hoodie. You feel nothing but relief at having him in your arms again, you’re almost scared that he’s going to disappear if you let go. 

But he stays there, shushing you and occasionally kissing the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth on the bed. 

Before long, your cries finally quiet and you’re left curled up against him, quietly sniffling to yourself. His grip on you remains firm, unwilling to let you go. 

After several, long minutes, he finally speaks, “Why don’t you go wash up, hm? Nice, hot, shower. I’ll fix you up some food, sound good?”

You sniffle and blearily look up at him, your lashes sticking together from your dried tears, “I don’t have anything.”

“I’ll make you some ramen cups,” he responds. 

He doesn’t like them being part of your diet but it seems he was willing to overlook it just this once so could get something on your stomach. 

“Don’t have any,” you sound completely congested as you talk, sitting up a little to wipe your cheeks.

“None?” he asks, keeping his hands on your body even as you move off of his lap. 

You shake your head, “I didn’t buy any last time I went shopping.”

“What the hell have you been eating then?” he mumbles, slowly standing up from the bed. 

You wince when you hear his knees and back pop from the movement, “I haven’t had much of an appetite but I’ve got some bread…”

Simon is silent after that, nonsensically looking around the room, seemingly taking stock of what's around him. Then he sighs, running a hand through his cropped hair before patting you on the head.

“I’ll order then,” he assures you, “Go ahead and shower, yeah?”

You do as you’re told, eager to wash the drying tears off of your face and hopefully wash away the lingering sadness. You know that you and Simon have a lot to talk about, but you figure it can wait until you’re both mentally prepared for it. 

You feel more refreshed than you have in days when you step out of the shower. You feel a surge of anxiety in your chest when you think maybe he had left while you were showering but when you pause to really listen, you can hear him shuffling about the flat. 

When you slip into your bedroom, you’re shocked to see that your bed has been completely stripped. He also swept up the broken remnants of the glass and lamp you had thrown at him and picked up the books. He had picked up some scattered pieces of clothes and put them in the laundry basket where they belonged. 

You get yourself dressed and place your dirty clothes in the basket so you don’t undo the work that Simon had done. 

You hear a knock on your door and it makes you jump but Simon quickly answers it. He calls your name to let you know the food has arrived and you quickly make your way to the kitchen. 

He’s methodically separating the food he had ordered into two separate groups, clearly having ordered for himself as well. 

It smells positively delicious and you find your mouth watering as your stomach growls. 

You turn to the fridge, opening it to grab a bottle of water out of it. You notice that the loaf of bread you had in there is gone, most likely thrown out by Simon when he realized it was moldy.

You feel your cheeks burn in shame when you imagine him knowing that you had been eating moldy bread because you couldn’t afford to buy groceries – although, even if you had all the money in the world, you were sure you wouldn’t have felt like going out to get any. You wouldn’t have been able to order since you’d broken your phone. 

You open the styrofoam tray and immediately start devouring the chicken tenders he had ordered for you. It was simple, easy, and tasty. He clearly didn’t want to order you anything too hefty given the fact you’ve been existing on bread. 

He had a burger, taking slow bites of it and occasionally nibbling at his fries. You took the opportunity to look him over. 

He honestly looked the same as ever. He didn’t have dark circles or bags under his eyes like you did. He didn’t have red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes from crying for days. For some reason that made a pang of resentment surge through you. He seemed completely unbothered by everything that had happened. Unbothered, even. 

His words ring out through your head like a bell. 

“We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes again but you bite them back, choosing to take a bite of your french fries. You realize now that you can hear the washing machine going. Clearly, he had put your bedding in there to wash. 

Maybe he was right, you couldn’t survive without him. Couldn’t even wash your own damn laundry. 

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he interrupts your self-deprecating thoughts. 

“Oh, um,” you scramble to think of what to say. Something not depressing or something that could upset him, “I was just wondering what you’ve been up to these few days!”

You try your hardest to sound chipper and interested. You’re positive he doesn’t buy the act in the slightest from the soft, pained look he gives you. But he thankfully plays along. You’re grateful because you don’t want to cry again.

“I was uh,” he cleared his throat and took a sip of water, “I was on base, actually. Nothin’ interesting, really. What, uh, what about you?”

You feel your smile falter and you look down at your food, “Nothing interesting. Tried to get my job back but that was a bust,” you chuckled, playing it off like a goofy anecdote, “Turns out your ex-boss doesn’t like when he gets beat to shit because of you!”

Simon drops his burger into his tray and his nonchalant expression turns sour in half a second, “You tried to go back to work at that shithole? Why the fuck would you do that? You know it’s not good for you!”

All over again, you feel your body flush with anger, and you’re shouting at him before you know it, “What the fuck was I supposed to do, Simon?! You left and I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do without you. I assumed you were gone forever,” you voice pathetically broke but you ignored it, tearfully glaring at him, “All you said was that I was gonna end up killing myself and I was doing everything in my power to prove you wrong.”

“You should have known me better than that!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the countertop, “I never would have left you–”

“That’s exactly what you did!” you shriek, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You left me! You ignored me when I needed you to go get laid and then left like I was nothing to you! Look at you for fuck’s sake, I’m a fucking wreck and you look like you couldn’t have fared better! I almost let that scumbag fuck me just to get my fucking job back, Simon! All because you left me.”

For once in his life, Simon seems utterly lost for words. The only sound in the small kitchen was the steady dripping of your leaky sink and you’re stuttering, sharp breaths as you force yourself to not break down all over again. 

“I should have known you better?” you whisper, resting your hands on the countertop, hanging your head so you can catch your breath, “Apparently I should have. Maybe then I would have known better to depend on you like that.”

Simon stands there, across the counter from you but feeling like he was miles away. You could hear his breathing stutter every few seconds, like he was gearing up to say something but he seemingly changed his mind every time. 

The washing machine jingle rang through the apartment and he immediately stepped away. 

Typical. Simon was never the type to truly let himself be emotionally vulnerable so there was no reason for you to expect it now. 

With him out of the room, you took the chance to wind yourself down, taking a few more bites of your tenders. You could hear Simon moving the laundry to the dryer, slamming it closed before turning it on. 

But he doesn’t reappear, evidently hiding out in the tiny room off the kitchen where your washer and dryer were. He was probably collecting himself just like you. But he appears a second later, lingering out of the corner of your eye. You can see him looking at you but you can’t bear to look back at him.

“I didn’t…” he pauses, taking a breath, “I wasn’t…” he lets out a sound of frustration before he tries again, “I wasn’t okay while I was gone.” 

He doesn’t say anything more. It was evident that that was all he was willing to give up in the moment. But you want more from him, you need more. 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get past this, Simon,” you whisper, “Everything’s so fucked up. I’m fucked up.”

“I am too,” he says softly, drumming his fingers against the counter, “We’ll fix it.”

His assurance marks the end of the conversation and you both resume eating the dinner he had ordered. But it’s silent and neither of you make an attempt to fill it. 

Once the food is eaten, you take a seat on the couch, knees pulled up to your chest as Simon takes your laundry basket from your bedroom and puts the clothes in the washer. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and you wish so desperately that you could crawl into bed and sleep. You suddenly realize that you have no idea what time it is. 

“Simon?” you call out when you catch him passing by. He stops at your calling, raising an inquisitive brow, “What time is it?”

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, unlocking it so he can see, “9:20.”

“Oh…” you respond, tucking your head back into your knees. 

Simon walks away at that and you briefly wonder what he’s doing now. But your eyelids are so heavy and you’re finding it so hard to think clearly. 

You’re pulled from your sleep a soft hand petting over your head. Your eyes slowly drift open and you’re met with Simon’s sweet, brown eyes. 

“Made your bed,” he says so softly, thumbing over your cheek, “Go ahead and get some proper sleep.”

You nod your head and sit up, briefly wondering how you managed to flop over on your side without waking up. Simon takes your hands and helps you to your feet.

You stumble down the hallway and immediately toss yourself onto your bed. You don’t even bother to crawl under the blanket, simply drop your head onto the pillow and let sleep overcome you. 

When you wake up next, it’s from a nightmare. You gasp into consciousness, eyes wide open in the inky blackness of your bedroom. Your heart pounds in your ears and you find yourself panting, trying to stabilize yourself. 

A heavy weight tosses itself over your middle and you almost panic before you smell Simon’s cologne. Immediately, you relax and sink back into the bed. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers, voice thick with sleep, “I’ve got you.”

“I want it to stop,” you find yourself whispering, feeling so utterly exhausted, “The nightmares.”

Simon tugs you over to him, tucking you securely against his chest, his arm like a heavy weight draped across your abdomen, “We’ll get you fixed up.”

As you close your eyes and sink into his embrace, all you can think is that you should have never been broken in the first place. 

You finally sleep through the night but you wake up feeling far from refreshed. What’s most shocking is that you’re still wrapped up in Simon’s arms – and he’s still asleep. The sun is well risen now, he should have been up and about a while ago. He never strays from his schedule.

You find yourself staring at him. It wasn’t often that you got the chance to see him so peaceful. His lashes were so long, brushing his cheeks. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the deep sound of his breathing. Your eyes slowly drift closed again and you let yourself drift off to sleep once more. 

When you wake up next, it’s because Simon is trying to carefully move you off of his chest so he can get up. You whine and find yourself clinging to him again.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mutters, settling back against the headboard. He wraps his arms around you and lets you melt against him again, your head resting against his chest.

“You slept late,” you find yourself commenting.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat and softly rubs your back, “I haven’t had the chance to sleep much. Base is pretty loud.”

You want to mention that it’s never been a problem for him before but you bite it back. Instead, you hum in response. 

As you’re left in the still quietness of the late morning with him, you realize that you still have no idea how you feel about him. You don’t know how you feel about him being back. On one hand, you’ve missed him so, so dearly and you feel so complete with him by your side. You feel safer and more whole, like you could actually start healing again. 

But on the other hand, there feels like there’s a wall separating you two. The fight you two had is a heavy weight that seems to continuously pull you under the water despite how hard you fight to resurface for air. 

You love him, you really do. 

But you’re still so angry at him. 

And it feels like neither of you are going to actually talk about it properly. 

The two of you eventually make it out of bed and get moving around. You still don’t have any groceries but Simon simply orders something for breakfast again.

“Somethin’ I need to ask you,” he says, suddenly terrifyingly serious as the two of you stand in the kitchen eating.

Anxiety flares through you but you try to appear calm and cool, “About?”

“You said that,” he takes a second to collect himself, seemingly searching for the right words, “You almost slept with that guy for your job back.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “Yeah…what about it?” 

Simon paused when he heard the defensiveness in your voice, “You really almost did that?”

You frown, “So what? I can do what I want, Simon.”

He sighs softly, holding his hands up, “I’m not tryin’ to fight, love.”

“I don’t know why it’s your business,” you mumble, using annoyance to hide the shame you feel, “I just needed a job is all.”

He nods, “You don’t need to worry about that, alright. I’ve got you.”

You take a bite of your sandwich, intent on trying to take the attention off of you, “There’s something I wanted to ask you too.”

“Go ahead,” he says softly, sipping on the drink he ordered – some kind of soda if you had to guess.

“That night…” you start, pausing when you notice the way he stiffens immediately. He plays it off by going back to his food, “You, um, you left to hook up with someone, right?”

He places his sandwich down and sighs, “Yeah.”

“...Why?” you finally ask, “I mean…”

You trail off and Simon remains silent. The tension is so thick you could practically see it between the two of you. Your heart hammers in your chest, anxiety steadily festering the longer he’s quiet. You think he isn’t going to respond at all and start to give up, hanging your head. 

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he finally says, “It was a…last minute choice and it shouldn’t have happened.”

He says it but you don’t feel any relief. That concrete weight on your chest isn’t eased in the slightest. It’s an excuse, something he’s saying to get you off his back. And that doesn’t feel good.

“I um…” you clear your throat to get rid of the way it sounds thick, “I’m sorry for that time, by the way. When I was throwing things and I-I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong of me. So, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, “You were upset.”

“Simon…” you mumble, food completely forgotten in front of you, “I want to talk. About everything,” Simon seems annoyed immediately but he tries to hide it. You know him too well for that, though, “I-It was a lot and I think we should talk about it – really talk about it.”

He says your name exasperatedly, turning to open the fridge so he can put his leftover food inside before he slams the door. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”

“But I do,” you say, following him as he storms out of the kitchen, “You said some really mean shit, Si. I want to talk about it!”

He storms into the bedroom, slamming it open as he busies himself with picking up inside. You can tell he’s uncomfortable and simply trying to take his mind off of it. But you’re not going to let him avoid it.

“I don’t,” he snaps, final and harsh.

“I do!” you argue again, “I-I want to know why you said that to me. I want to know how you could–”

“Fuck sake!” he hisses through clenched teeth, ripping his hoodie off of a chair he had tossed it onto. 

He pushes past you, tugging it over his head. You follow him out of the room, watching with wide eyes as he picks up his mask from the coffee table. He tugs it on, painfully silent as he fits it into place. 

“What are you doing?” you finally ask when he gets to the door, slipping his boots on with a grunt, “Where are you going?”

“Out.” he growls, jerking the door open so hard it rattles on its hinges.

“Don’t run from me, Simon!” you cry, grabbing hold of his sleeve to keep him from stepping out, “Are you ever going to tell me you're sorry? Are you ever going to look in my eyes and tell me that you're sorry for what you said to me? For leaving me? Or are you just going to do it again?” 

You can’t fight the tears as you cry out, trying to tug him back into the apartment. But he gives you one final look before he rips his arm from your grasp and slams the door in your face. You’re left alone again, frustrated,  sad and utterly confused. 

You wished he would stop leaving. 

You decide to stay up a little later than you had lately, waiting for him to come home. The oven clock read a little past midnight when you finally called it and crawled into bed. Tugging his pillow to your side, you wrapped yourself around it and tried to imagine that it was him in your arms again. Closing your eyes, you will yourself to fall asleep, no matter how much you want to stay up and wait. 

You’re jostled awake by the weight shifting on the bed. Your eyes flutter open as it creaked under the additional weight. You know it’s Simon, even though your back is to him. He remains silent, clearly trying not to wake you and unaware that he already has. 

The heat radiates off of him in waves, comforting and nice. But despite that, you feel tears welling up until they finally trickle down your cheeks. You can hear Simon’s soft breathing and you can feel him shift every once in a while as he tries to sleep. 

“I can’t do this, Simon,” you find yourself whispering. It’s quiet but you know he hears it, “I want to feel better again. I want to stop being so fucking angry at you but you won’t let me. You just leave me again and I want you to stop. I want…” you suck in a breath and find yourself struggling to continue, simply dissolving into cries. You quiet them as best you can into your pillow.

Simon is painfully silent and still. You’re positive he’s not going to say anything. He’s going to pretend to sleep so he can avoid talking about it because that’s what he does best – avoid. When things get too hard or emotional, he avoids it like the plague. 

You suppose it’s from the way he grew up. A mama’s boy who was punished by his father for showing any kind of emotional vulnerability. It led to him being terrified of it as an adult – he refuses to let himself show that kind of weakness, even to someone who means something to him. And you know that you do – mean something to him, that is. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, just an echo in the darkness of the room. But it draws you to silence, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice thick with emotion, “For what I said to you and for the way I acted that night. I fucked up, I know. It never should have happened. What I said should have never–” he lets out a heavy breath, “I never should have said it.”

You roll over, blinking the tears out of your eyes, which tumble down your cheeks. With a sniffle, you scoot closer to him, his warmth welcome and comforting. He opens his arms for you, letting you situate yourself against him. You rest your head against his shoulder, letting your hand rest against his chest. His own hand comes up to take it in his, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“You mean…” he trails off again but you remain patient, knowing it’s difficult for him to fight through his desire to flee, “You mean a lot to me. I never want to lose you. You’re…important.”

You nuzzle your head against him, a silent acceptance of his apology. He kisses the top of your head and pulls you more firmly against him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again for good measure.

He didn't look you in the eyes and tell you he was sorry but he did the best he could. In the inky blackness of your bedroom, as you shared a bed, and he held you so sweetly, he finally said what you needed to hear. And that's truly all you could ask for.

PART TWO.

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