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#( not to mention I don’t have the best of shoes so my feet hurt by the end of work )
cherry-leclerc · 3 months
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olivia ☆ cs55
genre: angst - we do pick up from where we left off in lolita, so, dark themes are slightly mentioned
word count: 1.4k
cherry here!...in order to completely understand this blurb it is recommended to read lolita ! i pinky promise it will be better that way! enjoyyyy :)
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“What the fuck, what the fuck, I just…lots of blood…”
Ollie trembles as she brings a shaky hand onto her dry lips, while your father's skin loses color as he clutches onto his chest. 
And Carlos? Well, he hasn’t moved from his original spot. Dark blood puddles around him. He never knew he would witness so much human blood in his life. 
“This is all your fault.” Ollie pauses. Excuse me? The Spaniard nods as he keeps his attention on you. “What did you say to her?” 
“What the fuck are you insinuating?”
“Carlos, give me my daughter.” Your father might be confused - and wants to ask a million questions - but he also just lost a piece of his soul, so now was definitely not the time. Stumbling closer to his son-in-law, he lets out a wet exhale. “Give her to me.”
“No.”
If you could imagine, Carlos was almost stuck to you in some sort of way. He wishes he wouldn’t be selfish and let your father hold you, but his body just won’t let him. 
“What do you mean no?” The older man painfully winces as he looks down at his shoes that now drown in a pool of blood that scarily looked black.. “Carlos, I’m not going to repeat myself-”
“She’s fucking dead, what’s the point?” The two men look over at Ollie who regardless of having tears streaming down her face, she appears rather bored. “I mean it’s true isn’t it?”
This does it. Not a second later, your fathers comes crumbling down as he starts to sob. It’s hysterical and it almost hurts the newlyweds' ears, but who were they to judge? 
I just want to hold her, please. She’s my baby.
“I can’t,” the broken Spaniard whispers, meekly. Brushing his calloused fingers against your cold cheek, he shudders. “I just ca-”
The pair are so caught up in grieving that they don’t even notice when Ollie marches over to the 29 year old. Harshly, her left hand reaches down and tugs your limp body straight out of his arms before throwing you against your father. They both seem shocked at the brutal action. Your father stares wide at his firstborn and Carlos is fuming. 
Ricocheting onto his feet, he pins Ollie against the wall. The puffiness of her dress eases the blow. 
“She’s not some fucking ragdoll! What’s wrong with you?”
“He wanted to hold her and you weren’t letting him! What was I supposed to do?”
He’s not being himself and he knows it the moment he wraps his hand around her neck. If I just squeeze tight enough-
“Stop it! Both of you, enough!” Pulling the broad man away from Ollie, your father huffs tiredly. “My daughter just died… Have a heart.”
Sliding down against the wall, Carlos gasps for air as he cries. For you. For him. For everything in between. How was any of this real? 
“Look, I don’t know what was going on with the three of you, but quite frankly, I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Days went by and no one said a thing. Ollie was growing tired; all her father and her husband would do is…cry. It was pathetic, but when people would express their devastation with the older sister, she would try her best to pretend. 
“How could I get over it? I just can’t.” 
The Spaniard's right eye would twitch at the sound of Ollie’s words, and yet, he still held her hand through it all. To the rest of the world, they seemed like a tight knit family helping each other mend their broken hearts. 
In reality, it was anything but that. 
“Which one of you wants to tell me what’s really happened the last few weeks?”
Putting their pride aside, that is exactly what they did. They told the complete truth. From Ollie and Ben to Carlos and you. Disappointed should be the main thing in your fathers agenda but he was simply heartbroken. 
“You’re supposed - you were supposed to be sisters. Take care of one another, where did it all go wrong?”
Eyes trained onto her lap, Ollie shakes her head. “That’s where you’re wrong. She stopped being my sister a long time ago.” Looking up, she can’t help the smile that slips onto her lips. “At least I’m trying now.”
“It’s too fucking late for that, isn’t it?” It’s almost as if long gone were Carlos’ warm, brown eyes and new were his completely black ones. Ollie would be petrified if it weren’t for his red eye bags from sleepless nights. Good. He deserved it. They both did. 
“At least I’m-”
“What did you do to her that night?”
Like a lighting slashing the darkest skies, your fathers attention turns to Ollie, who stares back with wide eyes. This again? I didn’t do anything. “Olivia, what is he talking about?”
Ollie winces at the use of her full name. Many find it pretty and she loved it, but you could never pronounce it when you were younger. Ollie stuck around. But still, it had been a while. 
“Nothing. Can’t you see that his stupid mistress just died?”
“Shut up! Shut up! Just shut up.” Standing up from his chair, the brunette runs desperate hands through his hair. “This is going to sound fucked up and the worse part is that I know it is, but it’s also true; I loved her. She was absolutely everything to me. Por Dios, a fucking nineteen year old was able to make me feel more in the span of a month than you’ve been able to for the past seven tortuous years.”
The office grows quiet, heavy pants being the only thing heard from Carlos. Pinching his nose, he continues. “You say you love me, but you don’t. Admit it. You only wanted to have the upper hand. To keep anything if it meant she couldn’t have it. You made up lame excuses to push her away. You. Ruined. Everything.”
“There he is.” Satisfaction registers Ollie’s appearance as she, too, stands up with hands on her hips. “You’re disgusting. No better than me. The fact that you viewed her as some saint is freakishly stupid. You’re blind. And maybe that’s why she deserved to die!”
Ollie, please don't say that, your father whispers as he releases fresh tears. Slowly, Carlos tilts his head to the side. Now she was truly petrified. 
“Olivia, did you kill your sister?”
His low echo could be heard once before she exploded. “You’re crazy! What gives you the right to assume things? Just because you’re hurting doesn’t me-”
“Then just say no. It’s that simple.”
Ollie purses her lips. “No. I did not.”
The Spaniard laughs. “Shit. Here’s the thing,” he steps closer to his shaking bride, “I don’t believe you.” She immediately opens her mouth before he raises his hand. “Nope. I don’t buy it.” He turns to your frozen father who stands with a gray looking face. “Do you?”
“Ollie…What did you do?”
Panic rises fast as she angrily shakes her head. “Stop it! It’s one thing to hate her and it’s another to commit murder. And if we’re pointing fingers here,” now she takes a step forward towards the fuming man, “What did you do to my sister?”
The Spaniard takes a clumsy step back, as if her words just slapped him across the face. “You’re batshit crazy. Completamente loca. Did you not just hear me? I loved your sister like no other.”
“And that could technically be true, but how far would you go for no one to find out?”
His breath hitches sharply. “Find out what?”
“That you and your paramour were expecting.”
And just like that, his world came crashing down once more. That’s not true, he can hear himself beg as he plops back down into his seat. Tell me that’s not true. Ollie narrows her eyes. 
“Stop pretending you knew nothing! We both had affairs, but at least I  had the decency to use protection. Unlike you two. I found the pregnancy test a few nights before the wedding. You had just told me about you and her, and I felt I had the right to know more. Sure enough, there it was.” Her eyes flicker to her father, who listens attentively. “My sister fell pregnant, you found out and you didn’t want anyone knowing you’re some kind of filthy cheater.”
“I didn’t hurt her-”
“I mean, none of us would expect it. That’s why it works. Because in this story, Olivia is the villain, right? Ollie hurts people and feels no remorse, correct? And the beautiful little flower never could. Carlos never could.” Bloodshot eyes stare back at the confused Spaniard. She was actually feeling something. “What the fuck did you do to my little sister, Carlos?”
He looks away. “I could never hurt someone I love.”
Ollie nods. “Despite what others might think, I could never hurt someone I hate.”
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alloftheimagines · 1 year
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roy kent | just friends
MASTERLIST | TAGLIST | KO-FI
words: 3k
warnings: strong language because it's roy fucking kent, mentions of alcohol but not intoxication, bad date experiences with rude and not nice people, including comments on reader's body.
single parent!reader (they/them, bi/pan) x uncle roy in which he is your best friend and go-to babysitter when you have an awful date that ends early. protectiveness, hurt/comfort, and a heated confession ensues.
prompt: Roy Kent x Reader, Friends to lovers?
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You’ve never been more relieved to be home, even as the sound of screaming children drifts from your house. You press your forehead against the cool door, taking in a deep breath. “Past their bedtime. Again,” you mutter, but your best friend allowing your daughter to have a late night with his niece, Phoebe, is the least of your worries after what you just experienced. 
Horror. Pure horror. 
“Oi!” you hear the deep, gritty voice of Roy Kent echoing down your hallway. “Come back ‘ere and do my other hand! Can’t be walking around with only one set of fucking nails painted!” 
Giggles follow, and you smile despite yourself. They give you the energy to open the door finally, and you step in to find your hallway lit brightly, Phoebe flying out of the kitchen with chocolate smeared across her face and bright blue nail polish in her hand. 
“Don’t be getting that on my carpet!” you warn, alerting everyone to your presence. 
Your daughter, Maisie, skips out next, waving. “We’re painting Uncle Roy’s nails!”
“Lucky Roy!” She’d been calling him “uncle” for the past year, though neither of you is related to the footballer-turned-manager. Maisie picked it up from Phoebe, and Roy hadn’t seemed to mind, since you’re practically best friends anyway. You’re constantly trying to tire the kids out with play dates at one another’s house, or else exchanging babysitting duties so one of you can have a free night. Of course, Roy isn’t a single parent like you, but he watches Phoebe enough that you’ve formed a bond over the years, one that stemmed from your shared love of your chaotic children. 
That bond has blossomed into something much more than you bargained for, though. After all, he is Roy fucking Kent, and his rough exterior matched with his hidden, softer side was always going to be your downfall. But since he’s been in and out of relationships and never made a move, you’ve let the small crush lie, trying to distract yourself with dates. 
Terrible, terrible dates.
Like the one you had tonight. 
“You’re back early.” Roy emerges last, leaning against the doorframe as he blows on his wet-varnished nails. “It wasn’t the one who speaks like someone’s pressed fast-forward on the TV remote again, was it? I told you they’re a loser.” 
“No. No, it was someone far, far worse than Fast-forward Frank.” You sigh and try to ignore the flickering in your chest, because gruff footballer Roy Kent is currently being pampered by two ten-year-olds and seems to be enjoying every minute. 
“Fuck,” he deadpans. “I’ll grab the wine.” He wanders back into the kitchen. 
You huff again, kicking your shoes off your aching feet and heading into the living room, where the girls are painting one another’s nails. It was at least nice to snuggle up on your couch and watch, legs curled under you. They’re arguing, of course, but you’re good at tuning that out most of the time. 
“You look very nice, Y/N,” Phoebe compliments. “Are you dressed up for my Uncle Roy?”
“No.” Even so, your cheeks flush, and you can’t help but hope he noticed your appearance before you left earlier. In fact, you’d been wondering all through dinner why he’d pursed his lips, jaw ticking, as he’d looked you up and down with shiny, dark eyes. It hadn’t exactly been the look of a man who lusted after you. More the disapproving stare of a father about to tell his child to go and change. “I went on a date.”
“What’s a date?” Maisie asks.
“14th of April,” Phoebe answers confidently. You smirk, glad when they return to their own little world. 
“Right girls,” Roy says as he comes in. “Go and play upstairs, now. We’re talking about adult stuff now.”
“And you should be in bed,” you remind, because you suppose that one of you has to be the responsible parent, and it certainly isn’t him.
The kids groan but trudge out of the room, leaving you in peace. Somehow, that’s even worse. You don’t really know why; you’ve had lots of awful dating experiences, but tonight, you’re just… exhausted. You don’t want to have to keep searching for something that most people find without a problem. You don’t want to meet new people who you don’t connect with, don’t even really like, just because the alternative is sitting at home with only a child for company, or sometimes Roy. 
Roy places the wine on the coffee table and raises his brow. “Go on then. Tell me what was wrong with this one.” 
“It’d be quicker to tell you what’s right. They started by telling me to put a blanket under me in their car so I wouldn’t scuff their leather seats. And then when I told them I had a kid, they looked me up and down and said ‘ah, yeah, I can tell. Have you looked into cosmetic surgery?’” You wrinkle your nose as Roy scoffs. 
“You’re joking!” 
“I wish I was joking.” You rest your head against the couch cushion, closing your tired eyes. “They tried to order a salad for me after that. I told them fuck off, I’m having the garlic bread. They didn’t like that.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Do you have their address?” Roy is already scrambling to get up, and you aren’t sure if he’s joking or not. 
You roll your eyes and tug him back down. “Stop it.”
“I’m not fucking joking. Where does this wanker live?” 
Okay, you realise. Not joking. His jaw is clenched, brows even more furrowed than usual. You’ve seen him angry before, but never… seething. It rolls off him until you yank him down a second time. 
“I don’t need you to beat them up. I need you to drink wine and tell me I’ll find the right person one day.” You pout as you pick up your wine glass, only half-joking.
His nostrils flare, but he settles down. “You will find the right person,” he reassures. “People are just dicks. You deserve better than all that shit.”
“I wonder sometimes,” you admit. “Nobody wants a single parent. I’m a package deal, and… well, there’s a reason I’m still single after all this time.”
“Oi.” He nudges you, draping his arm around the back of your couch so you smell his aftershave. You turn into the warmth, the comfort, though there is so much space between you still. More than you’d like. In another life, he might have been the one you were looking for. In another life, you weren’t searching for a good, healthy, passionate love, because you’d found it long ago, in the schoolyard where you met. 
But you’re in this life, you remind yourself, and you’re a far cry from the people Roy has dated before. It’s clear you’re just friends. You always will be. 
You lift your brows, waiting for whatever lecture he’s about to give you. 
His eyes pierce yours. “Don’t even bother going there. You and Maisie deserve the fucking world, and fuck anyone who isn’t going to give it to you.” 
The words pierce your heart, and something damp and warm trickles from the corner of your eye. A tear, you realise too late. 
Roy sighs, the rough pad of his thumb brushing it away. You’re not surprised by his gentle touch, though most people might be. You know him too well to think him anything other than tender-hearted and caring to his core. 
“Don’t get fuckin’ upset over that prick. Please, sweetheart.”
“No. I’m not.” You sniff, feeling pathetic. “I’m just overwhelmed. Tired. That’s all.” 
His touch drifts to your hair, brushing through the strands and tucking a few behind your ear as your eyes flutter shut again. You could stay like this for a long time. For forever. He has no idea just how much you need him, how much better things feel when he’s around. It would just make sense, you and him — if you took away his fame, at least. You love one another’s kids. You’d become family over the years. You trust him with every fibre of your being as the one steadfast person you can count on. 
“Y’know, you’re the person I’d call in the middle of the night if I needed to bury a body. Or if I thought there was a ghost in my house or something,” you admit. 
His face crumples. “Ey?” 
“Just…” You lean into him, burying your cheek against his chest. “You’re the only person who hasn’t let me down or left me.” 
His movements are stiff as he wraps his arms around you, but he melts into you quickly, holding you to him until you’re not sure where you end and he begins. You hear his heart echoing in your ear. Feel the prickly bristle of his beard against your skin. It’s the safest you ever get to feel, and it’s rare you allow yourself to be so vulnerable. But tonight, you can’t find a reason to keep pretending. 
“I never would,” he whispers. “If it was me, if you gave me a chance at a family like yours… I wouldn’t fucking waste it. They’re idiots, all of them. You and Maisie are precious. You deserve the best. Don’t stop until you find it.” 
You pull away, pulse racing. It’s never felt right to address your feelings before, and perhaps tomorrow you’ll regret it. Maybe you’ll lose him, even, but you believe him when he says he isn’t going anywhere, and you have to know…
“What if I already have?”
His frown lasts for minutes, hours, as he looks down at you. And then you see it dawn on him, and you don’t want to hear how this story ends. You don’t want to be rejected twice in one night. You stumble up. “Forget I said that. I had a couple of drinks at the restaurant, and I’m all… loopy. I’m going to get some snacks. Are you hungry?” The drinks were non-alcoholic, but he doesn't need to know that.
“No,” Roy says. 
It’s all he gives you. The message has been delivered loud and clear. He doesn’t want you. Tears sting your eyes as you leave the living room, heading into the kitchen. You catch your reflection in the window and almost break down entirely. You’re an idiot, and you’ve gone and embarrassed yourself in front of the one person you can be yourself around. 
You grab a tissue, drying your tears, but fresh ones fall all the same. 
And then your back prickles and you know he’s followed you. 
“Oi,” he breathes gently, tilting your chin up as he reaches you. “What are you getting upset for?”
“I’m not,” you lie pathetically, looking anywhere but at him. “You can head off if you want. I can watch the girls tonight and drop Phoebe off—”
“Can we just rewind a minute? Do you… Do you think that you and me…?”
“No! God, no. No. No, no, no.”
“Oh.” He nods, leaning back on his heels. "So no then?"
“No!” 
“All right, I fucking get it.” He lifts his hands as though they might wipe it all away. “I just thought that’s what you were saying before, on the couch. I thought…”
“You should stop thinking, Roy.” You offer him a flustered smile, your face burning. “Honestly, let’s just forget about it.”
“Right. Fine.” More silence. And then: “What if I don’t want to?” 
“Don’t want to what?” 
He shrugs. “Forget about it. What if… we’ve both already found the right people?” 
Your body is electricity now, and you can barely breathe. “What… do you mean?”
He scratches his stubble, lowering his gaze. “Well, I could take you on a date. I’d be much better at it than the losers you’ve been seeing.”
You’re caught off-guard, hands trembling, “Is that what you’d like?”
“Well, I did. I mean, I’ve wanted to. I just… you’ve already said no. Several times. So I suppose I got my answer, and that’s that.” 
“Well, I didn’t think you saw me that way. You’ve never asked before. Is this, like, a pity thing?”
“Fuck no!” he blurts too quickly. “I mean, no. 'Course not. And you’ve never mentioned it before either, by the way. You’re always going on all these fucking dates. When was I supposed to ask? Between Fast-forward Frank and that fucking woman obsessed with her pet ferret?” 
You blink, puzzled. “I mean… if you asked, I wouldn’t have gone on dates with Ferret Fiona.”
He throws his hands up in the air. “Now she fucking tells me.”
You don’t like the implication that you’ve been the one holding him back. “Well, it’s not like you’ve ever tried, is it? I mean, I’ve been single for years and you’ve never made a move, even before all this online dating palaver! And you’re not exactly easy to read, by the way. You’re always frowning, even when I’m trying to bloody well impress you! What was I supposed to think? That you fancy me when you always look like this?” You moulded your expression into a big, dramatic, brooding glower and hope it encapsulates everything that is Roy. 
He crosses his arms over his chest, looking angry now. Proving your point. “Oi! I don’t do that with my lips,” he points out. “And you’re always talking about how badly you want to find someone when I’m sitting right fucking here! That’s mixed signals, mate.”
“It was me hinting! Hoping!” you shout. “I was just waiting for a sign, or something, but you never treated me like anything more than a friend!”
“Because I didn’t want to be like that creepy Allen bloke you dated last year! He was your friend too, if I recall!” 
You sigh, realising the conversation is going in circles. You look at him. He looks at you. Both of you are breathless, wild-eyed, rosy-cheeked, and you know you’ll always remember the way he looks, standing in your kitchen, infuriated and perhaps more open than ever before, because you see it now; that dark look in his eyes was never a guard, never a sign of being just friends. It was want, need. 
It was everything you already feel. 
“Why are you two arguing?” a meek voice interrupts. You both look to the door to find the girls hovering in the hallway. 
“We’re not arguing,” you assure quickly. 
“It’s adult stuff,” says Roy at the same time. 
“We don’t like it when you argue,” Maisie says. “Especially when you’re supposed to get married.”
“What?” you question sharply, turning red all over again. 
Phoebe nods as though corroborating Maisie’s story. “We’ve planned it all. It will be next June at McDonald’s, and Uncle Roy will bring you flowers, and we’ll all have milkshakes afterwards.”
You put your head in your hands, peeking through your fingers and surprised to find that Roy is smirking. “Sounds like a shit wedding, Pheebs. Where’ve you got this idea from?” he says.
“Well, Mum said you two will end up together because you clearly fancy Y/N and it is invevitable.” 
A laugh bubbles in your own throat at her attempt to say inevitable, though you’re still too stunned to speak. 
“See?” Roy whispers. “Everyone else knew. It's fucking invevitable.” 
You shiver, lowering your hands to meet his gaze properly. It’s soft and intent, nothing like the anger of a moment ago. 
“All right, girls,” you say. “Get your pyjamas on. We’ll be up to say nanight in a minute.”
You usher them away, closing the door to when you hear their footsteps on the stairs. You’ve never been more aware of his presence, the fact it’s just the two of you — you don’t even know who you are without the kids jumping about, sticking their noses in. 
“Have I fucked it all up?” he asks finally. 
“No. Have I?”
He shakes his head. 
“Then what now?” you question. “What does this… mean?” 
“Well…” He leans against the counter, fidgety as he smiles again. “I’ll take you on a decent fucking date for starters. No kids, and no more of whatever the fuck this argument was.”
The thought leaves you feeling cracked and seeping with excitement, though you try to play it cool. “Okay. That’s a good plan.” 
“Right. Good. Then… are you free Friday night?”
You inch closer to him, timid suddenly. “I don’t know. My usual babysitter is busy.”
He rolls his eyes and tugs you toward him so that your torsos collide, and then his fingers curl around the nape of your neck and you can think of nothing but the way his lips look, and what it must feel like, having them between your thighs, beard grazing your skin. 
“You’re an idiot,” he rasps. 
“Takes one to know one.” You lick your lips, then his mouth his on yours, rough and ready and desperate. You let him in, let his tongue explore your mouth. You know you shouldn’t. The girls might come back in, might already be listening, but you’ve wanted this for so long. 
You both have. 
You’re breathless when he stops, his hands lingering just above your belly as he bites down on a groan. “If I don’t stop now, there’ll be trouble.” 
You’re not willing to let go, though, and you rest your hands on his chest as you kiss his jaw. “And?”
“And I’ve waited a long fucking time to do this properly. Give you the care,” he kisses your nose, “you deserve. Sweep you,” another kiss, this time at the outer corner of your eye, “off your fucking feet. So I’m going to.” He steps away. “Friday. Seven. Find a new babysitter, and make sure they’re free all night.” 
With that, he steps away, leaving you wanting more. 
“Uncle Royyyyy!” Phoebe is calling. “Will you read us a story?”
He grins, kisses your forehead, and then is gone. You’re not sure your knees will hold you up if you follow, but you listen to him talking to the girls, making them laugh, and you have never felt more right, more complete. 
You’re a fool for thinking anyone else could be perfect for you when the man you love has been here all along.
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jiminrings · 5 months
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good day miss jimjiminieerings 🫡 i hope i’m not being a bother for asking this but may we 😍 with deepest humility and pleasantries 🥹 have a tiny tiny sneak peek of your brothers bff single dad au 😍👉👈 😍? again if it’s not a bother miss jimjiminieerings!!! feel free to ignore this ask if u are unable to post– im just excited 😍🙏😅🥹
fail-safe (sneak peek)
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pairing: yoongi x reader
wordcount: 8k
glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.
alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.
[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]
[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]
sneak peek 01
You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.
As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.
You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.
You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.
Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye.
You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself.
So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.
“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”
“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.
Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”
You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.
The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.
“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.
“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.
“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”
There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.
You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.
There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.
“Yoongi.”
“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.
“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”
“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”
You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”
“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.
“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?
You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.
Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.
You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”
He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”
“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot.
Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.
“I will teach you next week.”
“Oh my-…”
He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”
“Ouch.”
“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.
“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”
“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.”
“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion.
You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.
“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.
“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.
He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.
.
.
sneak peek 02
In the grand scheme of things, you realize that Yoongi was right — nothing valuable was left for him in your hometown anymore. He was as right as you were wrong every time he went on a monologue of how he thinks there’s no problem in him admitting that he’s full of envy. He had been right for being bitter that there’s people who have and get much more than him, more than what they deserve, by not even putting a fourth of the effort that he does.
In the same way that he was right, you were wrong for thinking each time that Yoongi would soon outgrow his ambitions and instead, see things for what they are. You were wrong for thinking Yoongi would stoop down to your page, much less ever think of it.
Yoongi was right for saying that his stomach’s made of steel, and you were wrong for trying to convince him otherwise. He’s always had the appetite for more, the digestion of whatever life throws at him coming easy. Yoongi can choke down the reality of leaving Namjoon, your brother, who’s been buddies with him even before they could talk. He could forgo the only brother figure he’s ever had in his life if it means making something of himself.
He doesn’t get constipated from the reality of no longer having the homemade meals your mother would make that the younger, more innocent, and less ambitious version of him would literally jumps fences for. In fact, Yoongi’s palate craved something more foreign and sophisticated; not familiar, hearty meals served in dinnerware dulled from years of routine.
His stomach doesn’t turn thinking about how the skyline he said he’d never get tired of, wouldn’t appear in his new side of the world. The little, unassuming, and far too comfortable version of him who used to chase sunrises with his bike as a child and chase sunsets with his car as a teenager, doesn’t feel like he’d be poisoned if he were to see the sunlight in a high-rise instead of a run-down pavement.
Yoongi’s right when he said he had a tolerance because he doesn’t even get heartburn when you cry for him to no longer leave. You’re not in the position to beg him to stay (and you probably never will be) because as you’ve come to realize, he would only stay for the big things.
The only thing that would anchor Min Yoongi into place and dissuade him from chasing more is by being the most. One would have to be extremely significant, even bigger than Namjoon’s brotherhood, your mother’s impact, and what your hometown has to offer. You can’t even hold a candle to the aforementioned.
In Yoongi’s grand plan that’s as big as the galaxy, you’re merely a speck of dust that had the luck of hovering around him. You realized it back then when you blew over and fought with him right before his flight; right when Yoongi was clutching his one-way ticket, right when one foot was already out of the door.
“But the future that you want is not easy, Yoongi!” you gritted through your teeth, the grip you had on his suitcase too visceral that it bends under the pressure. Yoongi snatches his luggage from you in a blink, nostrils flaring in annoyance.
“Of course you’d be the first to say that,” he seethed, eyes wild and unforgiving. He drills his finger into his temple, inching towards you with an anger he had never shown before. “You don’t work as hard as I do, Y/N! You always settle. You always go for mediocre. You never put your head into anything because you’re too immature for any of this shit!”
“I’m not immature, you asshole!”
“Yes you are, you dipshit!” Yoongi scoffed, throwing his head back. “You cave and you bend and you let the whole world fuck you over, then you come running to me whining. You don’t have a passion in life, Y/N! You’re begging me to stay in the same predicament that you’re in now, what’s not immature about that?”
“When you leave now and decide to come back one day, Yoongi,” you spat with resentment, the tears that pour down your cheeks no longer out of sadness but instead, out of promise. “Nothing will ever be the same.”
“Good,” Yoongi clipped, turning his back on you for the last time. “Good for me.”
In the grand scheme of things, you realize that when Yoongi left five years ago, he also took the large chunk of your soul that had been shaped over and over again the entire time that he stood by you. He’d gotten his hands on the security and contentment you used to take pride in, weaponizing it against you.
You’re unsure if you have to thank him for that, the uncertainty being on par with the insecurity you had felt when he left you with his truth.
When you visit your mother for her birthday and see Yoongi emerge from your childhood bedroom, hand-in-hand with a toddler that looks like an exact carbon copy of him, you’re unsure of what to do either.
You’re not hysterical in the same way you stood before him when you even considered ripping up his plane ticket, but on the other hand, Yoongi’s inconsolable in the way he flounders before you.
“Y/N,” he says breathless, the lump in his throat even bigger than the tiny fist that grips his hand. “I… I-I didn’t-…” Yoongi tries again, his mouth dry at your appearance. “You came home.”
“I’m only visiting,” you answer, the curt smile on your face that Yoongi recognizes to be the one you’d give to strangers making his blood run cold. “I don’t plan on staying.”
.
.
.
ruh-roh new series alert :O wanna read the entire first chapter of fail-safe now + intermission 01 + chapter two + gain early access to succeeding chapters + read other exclusive content?? subscribe to my patreon :D
also to get ahead of the questions: yes, this is a general fic aka it WILL be posted on tumblr too!!!
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honeyedmiller · 8 months
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Fate, After All | Joel Miller — Epilogue
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warnings: pregnancy, childbirth, cursing, mentions of smut but not super explicitly detailed, tooth-rotting fluff, no-outbreak! Joel, no use of y/n. also, I’ve never personally given birth so I have no idea how the whole process works lol this has major inaccuracy so just go with it pls :’) this is very poorly written and not my best work at all but y’know, Joel with a baby is precious
word count: 1k+
series masterlist
-
“Babe, what about this one?” You hold up a pink floral onesie to your protruding belly, looking up at Joel. You were at Target with him shopping for some last minute things before your daughter’s arrival.
It’d been a little over two years since you and Joel got married, and you found out you were pregnant eight months ago. You’ll never forget the look on Joel’s face when you showed him the multiple pregnancy tests you’d taken. You’d been feeling unwell for a few weeks prior to taking the tests, blaming it on stress from work. But then you missed your period, and you had an inkling that you might be pregnant.
Sure enough, you were right. You didn’t know who was more excited about it, though—Joel or Sarah. You were plenty excited and so ready to be a mom of two, but Sarah bawled her eyes out when she found out she was going to be a big sister and Joel would only talk about it for days on end.
You remember when you told your parents too, calling them up telling them that you and Joel could finally repay them for the honeymoon they’d so sweetly gifted you. Your mom cried tears of joy, and your dad got a little misty-eyed.
And when you and Joel found out the baby was going to be a girl? You both lost it. Joel loved being a girl dad so much, and he knew you’d been such a wonderful mother figure to Sarah, that you’d be the best mom to your little girl.
“I love it, darlin’.” Joel takes the onesie carefully from you, admiring how tiny it was. He’d completely forgotten how small newborns are.
You and Joel both thought for sure you were going to get pregnant on your honeymoon, with the way you two couldn’t keep your hands off of each other using every surface of your room possible to go at it. You had no idea your libido was so high. Neither did Joel.
Even now, with your hormones raging, you craved Joel so badly. He was terrified at first, not wanting to ‘hurt the baby’, but the nurses at the third ultrasound checkup told him it was completely okay—in fact, they encouraged it.
Joel was tender with you in bed (and in general) since you’ve been pregnant, and honestly, you thought it was so sweet. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger if he could help it, but you had to remind him that you had to do things for yourself, too. Though, you loved that he was so careful and gentle. He was before, but he’s a little bit moreso now.
Your focus shifted back to reality, Joel looking at you with a small smile.
“What?”
“You’re so beautiful, y’know that?” Joel asks as he steps to you, resting his hands on the sides of your tummy.
You huff a small laugh, shaking your head. “Sure don’t feel like it.”
“You’re glowing, sweetheart. You’re carryin’ our child and you look damn good doin’ it.” He leans down to kiss you gently.
“This baby has made you such a softie, Miller.” You tease, grasping the side of his face as he chuckles. The crow’s feet around his eyes showcase in fullness, displaying how truly happy he felt.
“What can I say? I love all three of my girls more than anything in the world.” He kisses your forehead, pulling back from you before picking up another pair of shoes that he shows you—big, soft, brown eyes on display for you.
-
A few weeks later, you’re sitting on the couch with Joel as you rest your eyes while he gave you a foot massage. You told him constantly that he didn’t need to do that, but he insisted on the sweet gesture. It was quiet in the house; it’d been that way since Sarah left for college. You and Joel were definitely lively people, but Sarah always kept the conversation going with her wittiness and smarts.
Recently, you’d been having Braxton Hicks, so pain would come and subside. You were due in only just a couple of days, so any time now your little one could choose her arrival. Your whole body was so sore and just the thought of even getting up to do something made you want to cry. You were extremely emotional even moreso now, and Joel was taking your moods graciously.
It wasn’t too late into the night, so when Joel’s phone rang, you knew it was Sarah. She’d do check-ins every couple of days to make sure you were okay, and just to say hi. She was planning on flying back to Texas the next day, so you were happy you got to see her soon.
“Hey babydoll.” Joel answered softly, probably thinking you were asleep by now.
“No, mom’s sleeping right now. Let her get some rest. I’ll call you immediately if anything happens or changes, okay?”
Your heart clenched in warmth at the fact that Sarah referred you to ‘mom’. She’d been doing that since you and Joel got back from your honeymoon, and you loved it every time. You truly don’t think you’ll get over it, probably ever. It meant a lot to you that she was comfortable with you and liked to call you that.
You shot your hand out to retrieve the phone from Joel, and he chuckled, handing it over.
“Hello?” You say, voice a little hoarse from not talking for awhile.
“Hey, mom! How are you?” Sarah’s cheerful voice rung through the other line, and you smiled softly.
“I’m hurting everywhere. Can’t wait to get your sister out.” You half-joke.
“I’m sorry you’re in pain. Tell dad to run you an epsom salt bath or something to relieve your pain.” The idea didn’t seem half bad, but the thought of getting up and moving seemed like hell.
“I think I’ve tortured your father enough the past nine months with mood swings and emotions.” You laugh, running your free hand over your hard belly. Joel shakes his head at you and cracked a smile, softly patting your shin.
“Tell him to suck it up. He’s not the one that has to push a whole human out of him.”
“I’m sure he’d love to hear that one.”
“I’ll tell him, don’t worry mom. Get some rest. I love you.”
You huff a laugh at her slight overprotectiveness. “I love you too baby girl, can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Have a safe flight, okay?”
“I will! Bye!” And the line went dead.
“I’d love to hear what?” Joel asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.
“I’ll let Sarah tell you that one.” You grin cheekily, handing his phone back to him. You were feeling really tired, so you groaned as you moved your legs off of Joel and sat up slowly.
“I’m gonna take me and this baby to bed. We’re tired.” You looked at Joel, who nodded.
“Let me join you.”
And that’s how the rest of the night went. Joel helped you upstairs, made sure you were comfy in bed, and got behind you to spoon you the rest of the night.
It wasn’t until around two in the morning that you felt a really bad contraction. You’d never had one this strong before, and when they kept coming at least fifteen minutes apart, you woke Joel.
“Joel.” You whispered, taking his hand that rested on your stomach to squeeze it. He didn’t wake at the first attempt, but another contraction washed over you, this time much more painful.
“Fuck. Joel.” You said louder, and this time, he groggily hummed.
“You okay sweetheart?” He sleepily said, and you gave his hand a squeeze.
“No. My contractions hurt really bad.” You say, and he sits up behind you.
“Do we need to go to the hospital?”
“I think so.”
Joel gets out of bed swiftly, putting on some sweats and a t-shirt before helping you sit up. You try to focus on your breathing, but the pain is really starting to bother you. He helps you dress into some biker shorts and an oversized t-shirt of his, grabbing your hospital bag before he helps you slip on your slippers with a grip at the bottom.
He leads you down the stairs ever so carefully, grabbing the keys and his wallet from the front table by the door before heading outside with you. He locked up as fast as he could and got you into his truck, helping you buckle in. Joel had completely forgotten about the rush and adrenaline that comes with having a baby. It’d been so long since he’s experienced it, so he was trying to keep it together as best as possible for your sake.
You closed your eyes as you rested your head on the back of the headrest, one hand gripping the door handle inside and the other one onto the seat.
Joel starts the truck up, throwing it into reverse before taking off down the road. Luckily there was barely any cars on the road at this hour, so you wouldn’t get stuck in any traffic.
Joel flipped open his phone and speed dialed Tommy, who picked up after the third ring.
“Hey, brother. What’s up?”
“Hey Tommy. We’re headed to the hospital now. Her contractions are pretty bad and not super far apart.” Joel explains, trying to drive to the hospital with urgency but also not break any laws.
“Oh, oh shit. Okay. Do you need me to do anything?”
“Uh, just– just pick Sarah up from the airport later today so you both can come to the hospital at the same time. I’ll call you if I need anything else. I gotta go.” Joel’s rushed words almost made his brother chuckle.
“You got it, brother. And Joel? Don’t worry. She’s got this, and so do you. Be the best support system you can be to her, yeah?”
“Yeah. Got it. I’ll call you when I can.”
“Bye.”
The line went dead as you both neared the hospital, and Joel luckily found parking near the front. He hopped out and jogged to the other side, opening your door to help you out of the truck. He grabbed the hospital bag and slung an arm around your lower back and around to the side of your tummy so you could lean yourself into him if you needed to. He locked the truck, walking at your pace up to the front doors.
The receptionist, who looked bored out of her mind, looked up beyond the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
“Um, my wife– she’s– her contractions are strong and not far apart.” Joel explains as you try to not think about the excruciating pain you’re feeling.
“Oh, honey, let’s get you checked in real quick and we’ll get you a wheelchair.” The receptionist asked Joel the few questions, because in all honesty, your mind was foggy and unfocused. You just wanted to lay down in a bed with some medicine that’ll make you feel better.
A nurse brought a wheelchair and took you up to the labor and delivery unit of the hospital, checking you into your room.
After you changed into the hospital gown, the nurses took some tests and checked how much you were dilated. You were too tired to even pay attention to what was going on around you, but one nurse tapped your shin softly.
“Hey mom, how’re you holdin’ up?” Her Southern drawl was strong, but she sounded sweet.
“‘M okay. In a bit of pain.” You mumbled, trying your best to look at her clearly.
“Well I have good news. You’re about five centimeters dilated, so you can get an epidural if you want one.”
“Please. This pain is nearly unbearable.” You chuckle nervously, and Joel grips your hand. You look up and him and smile as he leans down to give you a soft kiss.
“You’re doing amazing, mama.” He says, and you nearly melt into the bed. He was so damn sweet to you, even in the most challenging of situations.
“Alright, we’ll schedule you for one asap and get an anesthesiologist in here to give you one. Sound good?” She looks down at you, and you nod.
“Thank you.” You say before she exits the room, and it’s just you and Joel. Joel pulls up a chair beside the bed, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it gently.
“Gotta call Sarah and my parents.” You murmur, eyes closing in exhaustion.
“Don’t worry sweetheart, I will right now.” Joel gave your hand a squeeze before you completely knocked out.
-
A few hours later, you woke up to see Sarah and your mom in the room. You’d been completely knocked out this entire time, except for when they gave you the epidural. Your surprise was evident to see them, and you smiled tiredly.
“You’re here.” You say, voice gravelly.
“Hey mom!” Sarah whispers, bending down to give you a hug and a kiss on the head.
“Hey kiddo. Where’s dad?”
“Went to get a cup of coffee with uncle Tommy in the cafeteria downstairs.” She smiles, and you nod. You look to your mom who had tears in her eyes, and you suddenly began to worry.
“Mom? What’s wrong?” Your voice is a bit panicked, and your heart rate on the monitor noticeably picked up.
“Oh nothing baby! Relax, relax,” She brushes your hair away from your face, cupping your cheek with her hand. “I’m just so happy for you. I’m happy you’re getting some rest.” She grins at you, and you nod.
“The epidural really knocked me out.” You chuckle, feeling a strong pressure in your pelvic area. You wince, shifting uncomfortably.
“Oh baby, that’s a contraction. Nurse said you’re about seven centimeters now.” She said, and your eyes widen. Before you could respond, there was a soft knock at the door as Joel and Tommy appeared.
“Hey sweetheart. How you feelin’?” Joel asks as he sets his cup of coffee down, kissing your forehead.
“Tired, but fine.” You weakly smile, and Tommy bends to give you a hug.
“You got this sis. Squeeze Joel’s hand as haaard as ya need to.” He winks at you, and you laugh.
“Well he is the one who got me like this after all.” You quirk an eyebrow, and Joel holds his hands up in defense.
“Hey hey hey, it takes two to tango darlin’.” He says.
“That it does.” Exhaustion was overwhelming you, and your eyes were starting to drift close without you even noticing.
“Let’s let her and Joel have some privacy. Let her get some rest.” Your mom suggested, leaving Sarah and Tommy to follow out of the room after her.
“Come cuddle with me.” You weakly reach out to Joel, and he huffs a laugh.
“Pretty sure ‘m not supposed to get on the bed with you, darlin’.”
“Who cares. I want my husband to hold me.” You pout, and he softly chuckles. You hear him take off his boots, carefully climbing into the small hospital bed with you. He wraps his arms around your shoulders as you nuzzle yourself into his chest, his scent and warmth surrounding you. You were out like a light again in no time.
It didn’t even feel like five minutes later to you when you’d been woken up by the nurse, but apparently it’d been a couple more hours.
“Hey hon. You’re almost fully dilated. We’re gonna need to prep you.” The nurse spoke softly, and you looked at Joel who was sitting in the chair next to your bed. His head rested on the side of the bed as he held your hand in his. You smiled softly at the sight before regretfully shaking him awake.
“Babe. Wake up.” You coo softly, and he opens his eyes. He looks at you wearily, trying to wake up fast.
“You okay?” He asks, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand.
“Yeah. Nurse says I’m almost fully dilated so they have to prep me now.” You give his hand a squeeze, and he nods.
“You’ve got this, baby. I’m going to be right by your side through it all.”
And he was right. He was.
Once you were fully dilated, they had you starting to push, and god you’ve never felt a more soul crushing pain in your life. You were trying to steady your breathing, but it was getting harder for you to focus. Pain overtook your whole being and you started to sob.
“I can’t do this, I can’t do this.” You cried, shutting your eyes tightly.
“Yes you can, baby. You’re doing so good. So good. She’ll be here in no time.” Joel encouraged, clasping your hand as he kissed your temple repeatedly. He kept whispering sweet encouragements into your ear, being the supporting husband you knew he’d be. You just couldn’t fathom the pain you were going through.
“I can see the head, mama! Just a couple of more big pushes and she’ll be out.” The nurse was trying to talk you through it.
It’s like the next few pushes you completely blacked out—all you remember is the sound of your silent screams, a ‘there she is! I see her!’ from the nurse, and the sweet cry of your baby girl.
“She’s here, mama. You did it! Congratulations!” The nurse set her onto your bare skin, and you sobbed. You looked down at her, then up at Joel, who’d also happened to be crying. He gave you a kiss and rubbed the back of your head as he looked back down at his newest daughter.
The nurses took her to get her cleaned and weigh her before swaddling her and giving her back to you.
“She’s perfect.” You cry, knuckle running over her cheek as gently as possible.
“She is. You did it, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. She’s here.” Joel cried, and you leaned in to him as he looked down at the both of you.
“So what’s her name?” The nurse asks, smiling at the three of you.
“Sophia Evelyn Miller.” Joel says, his chest swelling with pride. You gently handed him his tiny daughter, as she cooed softly in his strong arms. She was safe and sound, a silent promise Joel made to all three of you that he would love and protect his girls until the end of time.
You’d given Joel everything he ever wanted—a loving wife, a mother figure to his first daughter, a bigger family, and a house he could call a home with you and his girls in it. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, but his heart was so full with love and pride. So much love for his three girls, and pride to call you his wife and Sarah and Sophia his daughters.
This was really the fate that the universe brought upon you two—
One you both will always cherish forever.
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a/n: ahhh it’s finally done :’) sorry this epilogue wasn’t really all that great, I just wanted to give Joel the endgame with his new daughter and wife lol
hope u guys enjoyed this mini series <3 love u all forever. muah
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pixeechix21 · 5 months
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Halloween Hunt
ghostface x fem!reader
TW: knife play, primal, mask kink, chasing, rough sex, vulgar words, choking, blood play (v. minor dw), smut, alcohol mentioning, unprotected, p in v, scare/fear kink, hunted, v. rough
WC:1461
Pt2
Halloween night:
The pink bag stares at you, laying on your duvet covers. Your foot is nervously going up and down. you r at a safe distance watching it you hadn’t opened it yet, too scared to do it. Come on y/n just do it, like it's going to be Jason’s hand or head. Wait, could it? You urge yourself to open the delicate pink bag. It’d be best to open it just to make sure it’s not, you go on. Then you go for it knowing you’d just spiral in your own thoughts. The tissue paper is put to the side and inside the bag you pull out a beautiful silk and lace pink dress. It was smooth as you put it on your body. Trying it on it fit perfectly, almost as if it was tailored just for your body.
If I was going to be his princess I’ll show him just how much I can be. You rummage through your messy dorm and combine random pieces to make your costume whole: white sparkly heels, fairy wings, and a tiara. “Wow! You look like a magical fairy princess queen!” your bestie exclaims barging into your room, leaving the door open. 
You twirl happily, “thank you… what are you meant to be?” You look at her slip-dress with the picture of some old white man. 
“A Freudian slip,” my dorm neighbor stops in the hallway. Both of us look stunned at the intrusion of the stranger. “Oh my god! That’s right!” your friend claps happily. 
You both leave your room passing the bottle back and forth heading to Devin’s frat house on the edge of the campus. 
Once you get there you’re on alert suddenly remembering the game. A couple bros try to feel you up as you’re both dancing in the sweaty crowd. Sheila pushes them off shouting, “trust me you didn’t need a mask you’re already scary and ugly normally,” you laugh together, watching not to spill your drinks. 
You feel disappointed not having spotted him yet. The anticipation building. You forget how many hours pass but then everything changes. You're feeling hot and shout to your friend that you need air. Stumbling and pushing past the masses, you look up from your feet. You almost shit yourself at him standing there looking at you. There is a small pose of girls surrounding him, but he looks only at you and you can just imagine him smiling devilishly. Those girls don’t even know what their fucking with. 
You reach outside, puffing out a breath of steamy air. The game is on, he spotted you. You need to run, to hide, don’t get caught. Looking left and right you sprint straight to the edge of campus and out into the woods, following the path. Thank God for the years of pageant training and running from the cops in unstable shoes. 
Footsteps are following you, determined. Your arms are swinging and your legs are burning as you run as fast as you can. The cold nipped at your face, causing the whipping of the branches to sting ferociously. You turn left abruptly and hide behind a large oak tree. This time it’s your own hand gripping your mouth shut, so he can’t hear you. The footsteps slow down, he’s searching for you. 
“Aww I was having so much fun,” he complains, “I won't hurt you I swear. Well not unless you beg for it,” he says out into the dark. He slowly passes you, and you see the back of him, thinking you're safe. You hold a nearby stick and lunge out of your hiding place, screaming. You're on top of him bringing down your stick. He catches your hand and you release it from the pain. He flips both of you over, his hand holding both of yours over your head. “You’re so pretty when you’re angry,” he says, trailing his knife down the side of your face, following your jawline, finishing with the point tilting your heads to look up at him. “You stole my coffee asshole!” you bite out. His chuckle is endearing. As he comes close to your face you wish you could see his eyes, or even his smile. 
You struggle under him as the cold sets in. Your chest rises and falls in shallow breaths as his knife touches your thong. You clench in anticipation, you can hear his breaths rapidly and the feeling of his hands holding you tightly. His hand feels your wetness through the thin layer. He starts ever so delicately circling your clit, making your hips push up to meet his fingers. He lets go of your hands and pushes your hips back down to the floor. “You have to be good if you want it,” he says gruffly, shaking his head. The torture goes on to the point where your stubbornness breaks down, “ple- fuck- please mr.gohstface,” you writhe desperately. 
“Say it louder,” he palms your clit harder, almost pushing to the edge.
“Please! I’m about to-” you shudder as you're blinded by your orgasm. His fingers continue working relentlessly, and you nearly cry as you come again. Taking out his fingers you sigh sadly not wanting it to be finished. 
“Open your mouth,” he demands, and you can feel his hardness pressing into your dripping cunt. You do as you're told and he puts two fingers in, you look up at him and suck them lightly. “You make a man go insane, you know that?” He says hungrily as he looks at his fingers being drawn out of your mouth.
 Longing for more, your hands grab his belt buckle and undo them. Your cold hands feel his cock, and he tenses his abs. He’s on knees and you sit up so that you’re face to face with him hard on. Working your hand up and down you give quick kisses through his boxers. Taking his dick out of the boxes lick the precum coming from the slit, dragging it gradually all the way across. He tosses his head back, trying to control himself as you go at your own pace. Your lips surround him and instantly his hand grips your head. You bob your head up and down, twirling your tongue tantalizing. You feel him grow harder and you pick to the pace. “Shit, just like that,” he groans out. Just as he is about to come, yanks your head back so that you look up at him, mouth open gasping for air. 
“Turn around on your knees,” he releases you and you turn over, your ass up. Normally you’d be self-conscious, but strangely you feel safe with him. “A fucking masterpiece,” he admires cutting off your panties with his knife point, skillfully. Everso slowly you stretch painfully as he puts in his tip. You moan feeling yourself become whole, fulfilled. Once his hips touch your ass you feel tears forming. Dragging himself out slowly back in the friction kills you. You try to ask for him to go faster, rougher, just more. He takes your hair and whispers, “say it. Tell me what you want, I'm at your command.”
 “More. Now.”
 “Anything for you princess,” and immediately his fingers dig into you and he slams into you. You yelp at the sudden movement. He goes on unrelentingly, your knees scrapping on the forest floor. You can hear him grunting with the impact. Your crying at the forces as you orgasms comes over you. “Fuck y/n,” he moans as you milk him. He grabs your hair once more, you arch your back more and he hits you. Lifted up, your head rests on his shoulder and his knife comes to your neck. You smile at the feeling of the horror and thrill coursing through you like an aphrodisiac. “Look at me as I come in you,” he bites out, fucking you to oblivion. He tenses and you feel him coming to you. He releases you and you fall to your hands. He takes out his dick and watches amusedly as his cum comes out of you. You sigh as he takes his fingers and pushes it back into you. 
“Go before I do something I shouldn’t.” he warns.
You run.
A month later:
You haven’t forgotten that night and every now and then you think you see those tattoos or hear his voice. You were sure you were crazy when during your first lecture on business psychology you saw him bent over talking to the seated professor. You know it’s him, just know it. He looks up as he goes on to walk away. Frozen like a statue, you gape as he walks to his seat in the far corner. Smiling knowingly, and winks placing a coffee cup on your seat desk.
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bettyfrommars · 9 months
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I'm on Fire
Part 13: This Heart is Haunted
18+Only, mature content, angst, reader is being stalked, mention of physical & emotional abuse, biker MC, unprotected sex, sex with someone other than reader, exes are everywhere, mention of battling cancer, home invasion, tarot reading, spiritual guidance, mention of a gun, mention of taking someone's life, hurt & comfort. wc: 8.6k
Masterlist Playlist
Summary: Reader and Eddie are very much in love as the world piles on again. Both of their exes are in town, and Craig leaves a disturbing calling card to let reader know he is watching. Steve is properly introduced to Charlene in more ways than one, Astrid tries to protect Steve in the best way she knows how, and we get a peek into what Wayne "Uncle" Munson is thinking
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"Wendy let me in, I wanna be your friend I want to guard your dreams and visions Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims And strap your hands across my engines."
Born to Run - Bruce Springsteen
I'm on Fire Part 13: This Heart is Haunted
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John Gregson sent you a generous down payment for his commissioned painting, and most of it went right to the art store with you to by a roll of canvas, new paints, and brushes. Eddie went with you, and insisted on driving your car, but not before he had to adjust the driver’s seat all the way back so that he wasn’t eating his knees. He found a paint-by-numbers color pack of a dragon for Oliver, and crept up behind you, pretending to be someone else.
“Excuse me, miss? You are so fine,” he whispered in the sketchbook aisle. “Are you single, by chance?”
You checked to each side of you, feigning to look for him. “There’s this one guy I fuck from time to time, but it’s not serious.”
“Oh, is that right?” Eddie tickled your ribs, and then picked you up off your feet, munching down on the side of your neck with his teeth. “You better take it back.”
“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” you wiggled free with a laugh that seemed to echo off of the store walls, shoes squeaking on the linoleum.
Eddie wouldn’t let you carry anything on the way out to the car, and you did not miss some of the feminism that left your body in that moment as he held one of the bags in his teeth. The canvas roll was almost too long for the back seat, and you had a moment of panic, but then Eddie figured it out, clapping for himself after and taking a small bow.
The big, scary biker with the tattooed hands and the War Machine insignia kindly reminded you to fasten your seat belt, just as he clicked on his own and slipped his sunglasses on.
“I don’t know, Munson,” you grinned into the sun as he backed out of the parking space. “You’ve been such a help today, there might be some roadhead on the menu.”
He slammed the brakes and snapped his head to look at you, his hair flying, making you get the giggles. “See, now you’ll have to forget I said anything. I want it to be a surprise.”
He continued backing out, checking over his shoulder. “Surprise roadhead could kill a man, baby. You gotta give me some warning.”
So far, it had been the most chill day since before you’d been fired. You were sinking into the routine of “normal” couples, doing mundane chores together, holding hands in public, being sickeningly, adoringly head over heels for each other. And it felt really good. So good, in fact, you could almost forget for a second about all of the shit that had gone wrong, and could possibly go wrong.
Much earlier that morning as you lay curled up naked next to him in bed with your leg over him and your head on his chest, listening to a song by Mother Love Bone pour out softly from the stereo in Eddie’s apartment, he asked what you were thinking.
You’d been quiet for a while, zoning out, touching your fingertips to his as he spread them out to meet yours across the menacing bat tattoo on his chest.
“It’s silly,” you mumbled, kissing his shoulder with the side of your mouth. The morning was warm with a soft breeze blowing one of the long, blue curtains out into the room, and above the sound of the music came the rumble of motorcycles rolling into the compound, and electric drill firing in the garage across the way.
“Still,” he rested his head on yours. “I want to hear it. I want to know what goes on in that quirky brain of yours.”
As comfortable as you were with Eddie at that point, you were shy about admitting some of your deep-seated insecurities.  What if you spoke them out loud and they came true? What if you started to let him know what went on in your “quirky”, anxiety riddled brain, and it scared him off?
You decided to take a chance, burying your face a bit more in the indentation of his armpit.  “In the past, whenever I've felt genuine happiness, or everything seemed to be going really well, that’s always when everything would go to shit.  So, I have this fear that—”
“---that you’re going to lose me?” Eddie interrupted softly, sliding his fingers down to intertwine with yours.  
“Well, yeah,” you admitted.  “Exactly that.  Losing you, or something happening to Katie or Steve’s family.  Anyone I care about.”
“The same shit happens to me in my head,” he promised.  “It almost won’t let me enjoy whatever good thing is happening because I’m already thinking about how it could get fucked up. I’m always anticipating the next bad thing.”
“We are a sad pair,” you snorted a laugh. 
“Hey, really though, listen to me,” he squeezed you tighter. “You’re not going to lose me, baby, fuck that.  As long as we tell each other what is going on and we don’t have any secrets, no one can fuck with us.  I won’t let anyone fuck with us.”
You propped up on your forearm to meet his eyes; they were bright brown and earnest.  You swept his bangs to the side with your fingertips. “Well, that’s good to know because I don’t think I’d survive this level of heartbreak.”
“I won’t ever break your heart,” Eddie searched your face, running his knuckle down your cheek.  “And if you break mine, I’ll probably sulk around for the rest of my life, just a shell of a man, playing songs on the street corner for loose change.”
You chuckled and scooted closer to kiss his mouth.  “What are the deal breakers for you in a relationship? Something you could never forgive?”
He squinted curiously at you.  “Are you trying to walk that line, sweetheart?”
“No,” you bit your lip through a smile, but then dropped your head back to the warm skin of his shoulder.  “My deal breaker is cheating. I can forgive a lot of things, but never that.”
Eddie took a big inhale, thinking about this, but then he swallowed hard. “Just the thought of another man touching you, past or present, makes me see red, baby.”
There was a tension in the air as Eddie considered the crushing weight of said betrayal, and you bit at a piece of skin on your thumb, thinking about the complex inner workings of Eddie Munson.
To break the heavy silence, you started crawling on top of him, kissing his neck, working your core against his stiff morning wood.  Eddie held your face and sucked at your bottom lip, running his tongue along the soft skin there, while you pressed the slick of your slit on his cock, arousal already evident.
“Would you really kill someone for me, baby?” You breathed, reminded of how he said he would kill or die for you.
“Without question,” he hissed at your wetness, reaching down to line the tip of his cock up with your entrance.
You sank down quickly, needing all of him with fluttering urgency.  “When I think of someone, I will let you know,” you hushed.  He cursed into your mouth and spanked your ass as you rode him, knowing that this was the only cock you would have inside of you for the rest of your life, and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.  
Back in the sunny parking lot outside of the art supply store, Eddie continued on behind the wheel, pausing for a group of people as they strolled into he store, hand on your leg, squeezing your knee as he waited. He angled the car down in front of a clothing store, on his way to exit onto the street, and had to wait for a couple more people to cross.
You weren’t paying attention, too absorbed at the time pawing through the bag of goodies in your lap, fingering the new pastels and linseed oil with glee. But Eddie’s fingers dug into your leg and gripped there in a way that made you glance over at him.
Waiting at the crosswalk, Eddie’s skin drained of color as he watched the people pass in front of the car. You followed his attention: there was an older woman, perhaps 50, two younger girls maybe ages 7 or 8, a pretty blonde girl around 30, and a woman who could have been a supermodel with long, auburn hair, a short denim skirt, and a dragon tattoo on her thigh.
Your attention rose to Eddie and his nostrils flared, blinking a few times, teeth grinding.
For whatever reason, the tension made you nervous. “Baby, what is it? What’s wrong? Do you know them?”
Eddie swallowed, patting your leg a few times, forcing a smile that did not reach his eyes. “It’s nothing sweetheart. I just remembered something I had to do later on, that’s all.”
Not even a full day had passed since you’d both agreed to never to keep anything from each other, and there he was, lying already. He knew that you could tell he was withholding something, which made it even worse. His hope at the time was, if he ignored it, maybe it would go away.
Somehow, Melanie coming into town had almost slipped his mind, until he saw her there with his very own eyes walking with Chrissy, her mom, and her twin daughters. She looked different, but also exactly the same. The difference was that he no longer found her attractive; she might as well of had rotting flesh rolling off her bones for how repulsed he was to see her there in the street. He wasn’t afraid to tell you, he just didn’t want it to be real, he wanted to ignore her until she left town, and you could live in the bliss of never being able to put a face to her.
First of all, Eddie was a horrible liar. It was not hard for you to put the pieces together and realize that he did know one of the women in that group, if not all of them. But, you took one last look at his profile, told him you loved him, and decided to let it go. For now.
----------
A few days earlier, after the incident with Inky, Steve rolled up to the house at dawn to find Robin waiting up at the kitchen table. She was having a cigarette with her coffee, and Robin never smoked. He watched her bite into her thumbnail, chew it off, and then spit it on the floor as he stepped into the room.
“What’s up?” Steve shut the sliding door behind him and locked it. “Where’s Oliver?”
Robin put her finger to her lips to ask him to ask him to keep it down. She saw how he was favoring his freshly bandaged hand, but chose not to ask questions. “Katie is asleep,” she flicked the end of her cig over the ashtray. “Oliver spent the night with Wayne.”
Cautiously, Steve clapped down into the seat across from her, wallet chain hitting first, motioning for her to slide the pack of bargain basement knockoff cigarettes over. He had his own lighter, but she shot the box of matches over to him as well. Striking the match to light his smoke, Steve bucked his chin at the manila envelope she had next to her. “What’s in there?”
Robin brushed her hair off of her face and hunched forward. “Oh it’s just a little something. Might cheer you up.”
She pushed the envelope toward him with the pads of her fingers, both sets of eyes on it as it traveled across the faux wood surface. Now Steve knew exactly what it was when he saw the label on the front but even then, he was riddled with confusion.
“How did you--?”
A part of Steve knew, even though there’s no way he could’ve had any idea where Robin went that night or what she’d said to Tina to get her to sign her rights to Oliver away. Or the gun she’d pointed loaded and proud, letting them know there were only two ways the night could end, and both involved her walking away with those signatures. The saddest part was how quickly Tina had agreed to take the money in exchange for Oliver; there hadn’t even been a glimmer of internal struggle. Robin told herself it was for the best though, and once Oliver was old enough to ask questions, he would never know about that night, or how quickly he’d been given up.
Now, they really were broke, even more than before, and without any safety net to fall back on. But, no one would ever show up and try to take their son away again without facing legal ramifications, and Robin might’ve also let her know that she wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in her throat if she ever tried to get sneaky. “If you take Oliver, Steve and I will have nothing to lose. You know what they say about not wanting to fuck with someone who has nothing to lose.”
Steve peeked inside, exhaling a long, hot breath. After sucking on his lip for a few seconds, he raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “You’re telling me you got her to sign these and you got them notarized?”
“Katie,” Robin squinted and took another drag. The sleeve of her flannel fell down to expose the vine of an ivy tattoo on her forearm.
“She’s a notary? No shit?” he said the last part under his breath, chuckling a bit to himself.
Katie’s old job status as a notary public was a small detail that Robin had been fascinated to discover. Meeting up at a seedy motel in the middle of the night in her pajamas did not put Katie in a particularly compliant mood, but she offered her official services without too much of a fight. In fact, she had to admit later how much it had turned her on to find her girlfriend holding two people at gunpoint like that. It made her feel like she was in an episode of 21 Jump Street.
Steve rubbed one eye with the palm of his hand. The other hand, the one Astrid had cleaned and put a fresh bandage on for good measure, had just been used as a deadly weapon and pummeled a guy to the brink of death just the day before. He’d do it again in a heartbeat because no one threatened his family and got away with it. “Jesus, fuck, Rob. You know I love you, right?”
“Oh, you better,” she snorted a laugh, and then, softly,“I’d do anything for Ollie. And you. You know this,” and then she smashed the cigarette out in the ashtray. She couldn’t look him in the eye for fear the floodgates would open.
A sob hitched in his chest and he had to clear his throat. He really was on some real emotional bullshit lately and he made a fist with his good hand and banged it on the table, trying to collect himself. “Ditto.”
Robin got up and stretched her arms back with a yawn. “I’m going back to bed for an hour. You at the shop this afternoon?”
“Until late, yeah,” Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of the envelope. “I’m working on that chest piece for Thor.” Thor was one of the other Coffin Kings, a huge, beastly blonde dude with a long, braided beard.
Robin braced her hands on the back of the chair. “You thought anymore about going to Scott’s wedding this weekend?”
“Scott, you mean Daphne’s Scott?” Steve shook his head. “I haven’t thought about it at all, actually. There’s no way I’m going to that.”
Steve had only met Scott once at one of their barbecues, and Daphne knew Robin because her daughter and Oliver were the same age, but the last place Steve wanted to be stuck at was a wedding for two people he barely knew, or any wedding at all for that matter.
“You sure?” Robin craned her neck. “There’s going to be an open bar at the reception.”
“Nah, I got a thing on Saturday,” Steve waved his hand. “Take Katie, why don’t you?”
“I’ll think about it,” Robin worked her neck from side to side. “What do you have on Saturday?”
For some reason, a voice inside of Steve whispered that he should keep his plans vague. “Body guard gig,” he offered in a bored tone. He didn’t have to ask to know that Robin must’ve had to have paid off Tina somehow, and now they’d need some extra cash more than ever. What he wanted to do was change the subject. “Any word from Susie or Dustin?”
“Now that you mention it,” Robin scratched her cheek. “She’s due any day now and no, I haven’t heard a word. I should’ve checked in, I’ve just been out of my mind lately.”
“Dustin knows we’re in the thick of it,” Steve assured her. “We’re the first ones on the call list when she does go into labor, but I’ll give him a ring this afternoon to say hey.” He yawned, blinking his tired eyes a few times. “Should I take Ollie to the shop with me?”
“No, after Wayne drops him off, I got him,” Robin stole a curious look at Steve, knowing full well that there was something he wasn’t telling her. She was too exhausted in that moment to ask any questions as she turned to head down the hall. “Take a shower, dingus. You look like death warmed over.”
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Wayne always kept his shotgun up high in a locked closet whenever the kid came to stay, but when he returned from dropping Ollie off with his parents, he stood there at the open closet looking around for a minute. He fingered through the flannels and old jackets, skidding the wire hangers along the wooden dowel, until he found the frayed denim edge he was looking for. He yanked back the line of clothes so he could pull the article of clothing out and take a look at it.
It was his original denim with the sleeves cut off, known as a cut, or Kutte, with the Coffin Kings MC insignia on the back. The matching insignia among club members were all “cut” from the same cloth. He held it up and wiped his hand down it a few times, as if to dust it off, looking over the worn and road weary patches, including the one with his nickname “Uncle” over the pocket, because he’d been an honorary uncle to so many, including Steve and Astrid.
He took it over to the mirror on the back wall of his bedroom, set the hanger on the chair and pulled the denim on over his white tee, adjusting the collar, working his shoulders through. Chemo had taken a lot of his size, and so it hung a bit loose, but the shoulder muscles were still there, and he flexed his hands, knowing they could still deftly maneuver a blade or a gun, just like the old days.
Sticking out of the side of the mirror was was a black and white photo that had been bent in half and wrinkled over time. A photo of a much younger Wayne, Astrid’s mother Evelyn with her jet black hair over her shoulder in a braid, and Steve and Eddie as little kids; not much older than Oliver. The boys wanted to be a part of the life so bad, even then, that Evie made them their own vests, complete with Munson and Harrington patches and the Coffin Kings skull on the back. Evie had her hand on Wayne’s chest in the photo, gazing up at him, and Wayne’s arm was around her shoulders, but his eyes were on Steve, his mouth open about to say something. Steve was making a face, his mouth in a grimace to expose two missing front teeth, both of his arms up, flexing to pretend he had muscles. Eddie was more stoic, his expression set without emotion as he stared into the camera, hands in fists at his sides, feet braced wide. Off to the side was young Astrid. She was a few years older than the boys, but still a baby. Wayne remembered she didn’t want to be in the photo, but Steve started acting out to get her to come over, and there she was, face slightly blurred as she tried to move away, but a smile on her face nonetheless.
Wayne met his eyes in the mirror; windows to a soul that was familiar but set in a face he no longer recognized. He thought about his panhead motorcycle collecting dust at the storage unit across town. He thought about how badly he wanted to protect Oliver from the horrors of this world, from the MC life. The boy liked to paint and draw and bake things, and Wayne didn’t understand that either, but he didn’t see the lust for danger in his eyes like he had with Steve and Eddie; Steve, especially. Like he wanted to turn the world on its head and dump it out to see how it worked. Maybe he had the love of a good mom for that, the kind of mom that stuck around. He thought about all of the things this disease had already taken from him, but it wouldn’t take this. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.
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You’d stayed at Eddie’s for the past two nights in a row, and even though he would have you there with him every night if he had his way, you needed to set up your art room and take advantage of one of your afternoon off to work on John’s commission before you went back to the Hammer. You needed to stretch and frame the large canvas first, a meticulous process that took place in the garage, and then put up painters plastic around the art room so you wouldn’t flick paint around on the walls of the rental.
Eddie had brought you to work and picked you up the night before, and he took you home that next day in the tow truck so he could head to a job after. He popped in at the diner on the way to grab two coffee’s to go in tall white, Styrofoam cups. The older, married waitress there named Donna had a crush on both him and Wayne, and always gave him free stuff, for which they tipped handsomely. He came out of the diner holding the two cups up, wiggling his eyebrows at you.
“Things with Donna and I are getting serious, just so you know,” Eddie climbed up into the cab and passed your coffee to you, and then leaned over for a kiss once he was behind the wheel. “Black with two sugars for my lady.”
“Well, I don’t blame her one bit,” you clicked your tongue, leaning over to smell the fresh brew through the mouth opening in the lid and feel the steam on your skin, snuggling down into one of Eddie’s hooded sweatshirts. “Now I need to find an older, married boyfriend, and we’ll be even.”
What was meant to be a joke hit a little different because of the whole John Gregson situation, but Eddie snorted a chuckle as he put his cup in the holder on the dash. “You’re gonna turn me into a homicidal maniac if you’re not careful, sweetheart.”
As he got back on the main road toward your place, a glimmer caught your eye. The guitar pic on the ball chain hanging from the rear view mirror had always been there, but now there was a little, silver worry ring on the chain too, hanging flush with the red pick. It was the worry ring you usually wore on your thumb that you’d thought you had lost weeks ago. You reached up to take a better look and make sure.
“Baby, what is my ring doing here?”
Eddie took a wide turn, sucking his cheek, realizing he was properly caught red handed. “You left it on the nightstand that first time you came over,” he answered.
Your mouth fell open to goad him. “Why didn’t you tell me you found it?”
Eddie’s eyes found the ring in question where it swayed with the movement of he vehicle. “I don’t know, I think I meant to, but then I kinda liked having it in here with me. Whenever I look at it, I think about you. Something stupid like that.”
Your heart rushed, sending waves of heat through your veins. You were staring at his profile now, unable to look away, absolutely, wholly filled to the brim with love for this man.
“You really got it bad for me, don’t cha Munson?”
He offered a small nod and a shrug, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel to the beat of the music.
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It was almost 9am by the time Eddie dropped you off at the duplex. Katie was already at the school, and your orange tabby cat Charlie was in a mood, so you sat on the couch with him for a bit while you finished your coffee. Although Charlie loved affection, he was normally such a chill dude, but that morning he didn’t want to leave your side even after you put his favorite gravy bits breakfast in his food dish. You had been gone for a couple nights in a row, but you always came by during the day to check on him, so it wasn’t as if he’ been abandoned. It was almost as if he was trying to tell you something.
You stroked his ears back and kissed the top of his head. “Tell me, my boy, what’s on your mind?” But he only meowed, nuzzling closer, massaging his claws into your leg.
You ate some granola and dropped your bag on the floor at the end of your bed without turning the light on, heading straight into the bathroom for a much needed shower. You let the water get as hot as you could handle it, noticing the bruises on your hips for the first time from the way Eddie man-handled you during sex. You smiled against the stream of water at the memory.
Charlie was sitting on the sink with his tail curled around his feet when you opened the shower curtain, staring you down. “Close your eyes,” you told the cat as you clutched in the air for the green bath towel that was hooked over the metal dowel.
At least, you thought it was hanging there, but now you were grabbing at air because it was on the floor. You wiped water from your eyes and snapped another look at Charlie before you bent down to pick it up. “Did you do this?”
You were mumbling to yourself, wrapping the towel around your body and stepped out onto the mat. You remembered closing the bathroom door, but now it was open and you imagined that Charlie had pushed it open with his brute strength. You paused to put some moisturizer on your face, and then turned to open the door the rest of the way and face the bed, and that was when you realized there was something terribly wrong.
The bed was made; everything neatly tucked, comforter folded back at an angle, as an invitation. Had it been that way before you went into the shower? You wouldn’t know because you hadn’t turned the light on to look. The pile of clean laundry you’d thrown on the messy bed just the day before were nowhere to be found. You weren’t freaking out yet, not when you knew that Katie went into turbo cleaning fits when she was stressed, and there had been a lot going on with Robin lately. But it wasn’t like her to come into your space while you were gone and mess with your things.
A fear began to bubble inside of you as you clutched the towel tighter around your body, senses heightened as you inched over to check down the hall and in the closet. You were starting to feel so afraid that your hands got cold as shock began to set in preemptively.
With trembling fingers, you took hold of the wood knob and pulled open the top drawer of your dresser, only to jump back, covering your mouth to try and trap the scream that erupted.
Your underwear and socks were neatly folded into color coded rows. You yanked out the drawer under that and the next, only to find the same symmetry of tediously folded clothing. The second drawer fell all the way out and crashed to the carpet. In a frenzy, you dove forward and started scooping all of the clothing out of the drawers, yanking them all to the floor, making them a mess, throwing them around the room, tears running hot down your cheeks. You didn’t stop until the bottom drawer was empty; the drawer that had a few pieces of lingerie and silky pajama sets, all of it had been sorted and folded in the exact same way.
You covered your nose and mouth with your hands and sat down on the bed, taking sharp inhales, adrenaline preparing you for some kind of fight, flight, or fawn: whichever would keep you from eminent danger. There was and ocean in your ears.
You did not do this.
Katie would not do this.
The only person in the world who would ever do this
was your maniacal, neat freak ex fiance Craig.
Now you could hear a footstep creak on the wood planks in the hall just outside your bedroom and from behind you on the bed, Charlie hissed.
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Eddie didn’t have to take the long way back by your street with the old Chrysler on the back of the tow, but he did anyway, just because he liked being in your vicinity. Much like the “old days” when he would ride by your work, back when he thought you wouldn’t give him the time of day.
As he turned onto the street, he could see the front of your duplex on the corner, but his smile faded when he saw the front door was open. Not open just a crack, but open all the way, exposing the interior or the house, and you didn’t have a screen door, so he wouldn’t imagine you’d leave it that way on purpose. What if your cat got loose? He took a sharper turn than he should have to line the truck and pull along the opposite side of the street to park it, doing his best not to crush your neighbors garbage can, all the while keeping his eyes on the entrance, thinking maybe you’d appear and there would be some explanation.
He paused before crossing the street as a guy in a hunter green utility vehicle inched its way to the stop sign. The driver stared Eddie down as he went at a crawl, and Eddie was taken aback to be aggressively eyeballed by a stranger, but he returned the heated glare, bucking his chin. “Fuck’s your problem, man?” Eddied shouted, shrugging his hands in the air. The guy gave an open mouth smile, and made a motion of dragging his fingers across his throat, just before he stomped on the gas and flew through the stop sign, taking a right. Normally, Eddie would’ve taken more notice of the details of the license plate and whatnot, but his attention quickly returned to your open door, taking long strides to the opposite sidewalk.
Eddie looked around before he stepped inside, hand on the hilt of his knife. “Baby? Are you in here?” He asked it softly so it wouldn’t scare you. “It’s Eddie. Your door is wide open.”
His ears followed the sound of things being tossed around, and something heavy hitting the ground with a wooden crack. But then you screamed and his heart tightened as he bolted down the hall.
“Baby?” He entered your bedroom to find all of your dressers drawers open, and two on the ground, clothes scattered everywhere. You jumped when you saw him, scrambling back with a shriek, clutching a towel to the front of your body so that you wouldn’t be exposed.
You were afraid of him, or whoever you thought he was. Cheeks wet with tears, eyes wild like a feral animal caught in a trap. You backed all the way to the wall with your hand out, palm up, before you realized who it was.
“Eddie?” Relief flooded through you, and you dropped the towel, stark naked, to run into his arms, a sob choking in your throat. The feel of his denim and cool of his belt bucket against your skin helped to soothe your nerves, taking a deep inhale of the woodsy spice scent of his aftershave.
Eddie’s mind was reeling as he held you tight; one hand cupped behind your neck and the other at your back rubbing in slow circles. “It’s me, baby. It’s just me.”
You blinked hard, wishing he’d never had to see you like this, wishing you’d never have to tell him about Craig and why you were so afraid of him. You had no proof that your ex had actually been in your house, but also---you had all the proof you needed. This kind of sick fuck head game was right up Craig’s alley. But how had he found you? How would you ever get rid of him now? You didn’t want Eddie to have to get involved with this mess. Sure, Eddie was tough, but Craig was certifiable, and you were well aware that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you in his life.
You buried your face in Eddie’s chest and wrapped your arms as tight as possible, wishing you could both run away and disappear and not have to deal with any of this.
“Talk to me, baby,” Eddie said in a lower octave than normal, his blood boiling. “Who did this to you?”
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That afternoon on Friday, Steve went to meet the woman he’d be doing security for the next day. He gave a low whistle as he rolled up to the main gates, “holy shit,” he mumbled, pinching a smoke between his lips, lighting it while his bike idled and he pushed the buzzer to announce himself. He combed his fingers through his hair as he rode in over a blood stain that was embedded in the cement, shooting a look to the 10 car garage, wondering what kind of beauties were in there and hoping he’d get to drive one.
“Be careful,” Astrid had warned a few nights ago when he stayed at her place. She shuffled her Tarot deck and did a quick reading for him. She tapped her finger on one of the cards. “I don’t like the look of this. I think someone with a dark heart has their evil eye on you.” Without looking up at him, she continued. “I need to do a protection spell before you go.”
“Does that protection spell include you riding my face?” Steve scooted his chair forward, lunging to kiss her temple, but she shrugged him off, trying to concentrate.
Her eyes were sweeping over the cards she’d just pulled for him with a tense bundle of lines between her thick, dark eyebrows. “I’m serious Steve. It’s someone with power who wants to own you, and I think the offer will be very tempting. Think Satan in a Sunday hat.”
She pulled two more cards. Her eyes flicked from Steve to the table several times. “Are you going to some kind of formal event this weekend?”
Steve winced. “Not if I can help it, why?”
This gift that Astrid had was much deeper than deciphering the magic in a deck; she had always been able to see beyond the veil of the known world. It was her gift that kept her lonely, and more often than not, she saw it as a curse.
She sat back in her seat to look the cards over again for an unnerving amount of time. Her intuition was foggy, and she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what would go wrong yet, but there were multiple threats on the horizon and her gut told her it was time to circle the wagons.
Steve’s tongue flicked out to lick the corner of his mouth. “Don’t leave me hangin’ here, darlin’. Do I get kidnapped by a bunch of circus clowns, or what?”
Her eyes locked onto his, letting him know she was serious. “Watch your back this weekend, Stevie.”
He took her hand. “Don’t I always, sweetheart?”
He thought about Astrid’s words as he wound the bike around to park at the front door, exhaling smoke as he flicked the cigarette to the side. He slid his sunglasses up on top of his head, taking in the expanse of the entryway, heavy boots plodding up the steps. At his wrist on a thin leather band was the tiny charm and gemstone Astrid had made him wear after she dowsed him in sage smoke and said a bunch of words he didn’t understand.
Charlene greeted him in nothing but the tiniest of bikinis, a straw sun hat, and a blue and red kimono, and Steve couldn’t help but adjust himself in his jeans at the way her breasts were almost spilling out of the tiny yellow top.
She offered him a drink out by the pool under one of the umbrellas, and Steve accepted a beer.
“I should thank you again for bailing me out,” Steve took a drink, glad that his eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses because he couldn’t’ take them off her heaving rack; the way the sweat trickled down her tan cleavage. A pool boy in tight, cut off jean shorts was cleaning debris from the surface of the crystal clear pool with a net at the end of a long handle.
“Anytime,” Charlene was so very charming when she wanted to be. “A friend of Eddie’s is a friend of mine.”
Steve took a generous gulp and put his forearms on the table. “Yeah? You know my buddy Eddie?”
Charlene flipped her blonde hair off of her shoulder. “Has he never mentioned me? We go way back.”
“Never,” Steve said without hesitation, making Charlene frown. “Not that I remember anyway. But Eddie and I don’t talk as much anymore. We’ve been too fucking busy.”
That seemed to lighten her expression, but the thought did occur to Steve to wonder how Eddie got word to her that he was in jail? He was pretty sure he didn’t even know about what happened until the next day. But, fuck it. Who cares how she found out? He just wanted to get this bodyguard gig over with and get his cash.
They agreed on a price for an evening of Steve’s services, and then Charlene led him inside to guide him up the big, lavish staircase to a guest bedroom where she had a gray and white suit waiting for him. She unzipped the black Armani sleeve it was in and Steve gulped. His mind immediately raced thinking about how much he could pawn it for on Sunday if she let him keep it.
“My cousin is getting married tomorrow,” she perched at the end of the floral bedspread, watching him pick the suit up to admire it. “I guessed at your size, but I can have a tailor meet us here before we leave if it needs fixing.”
Sure, Steve had been a bouncer forever, and had worked as an extra bodyguard a few times for visiting celebrities, but a personal bodyguard and escort for a woman like Charlene? Never. He wasn’t even sure why she needed protection for a wedding; looking down at the suit, he felt more like a gigolo than hired muscle.
“Nah, I’m sure it’s perfect,” and then he eyeballed the wedding photo on the vanity of a much younger Charlene with some other dude. “Where is your husband these days? Why can’t he take you?”
Charlene stretched back so that she was spread out on the bed, the nipple of one breast poking out from under the thin material. Her body was toned and supple and not at all what he expected a woman in her mid 40’s to look like. “My husband leaves town a lot for work. He doesn’t ask what I do, and I don’t ask what he does.”
“Fair enough,” Steve flicked his tongue over his gold tooth, watching the way she arched her back, exposing herself to him, making him palm his erection through his denim.
“For instance,” Charlene reached behind her neck to undo the tie for her bikini top, pulling it down, letting him see the expensive titties in all their glory. “He left yesterday and won’t be home until next week.”
So, of course Steve fucked her. He came between her tits and gave her a pearl necklace made of his cum, liking the way it dripped down her throat. He fucked her ass because she begged him to, using only spit for lube, her face pressed into the mattress, until she came, and then Steve milked a few more bursts of cum onto her backside with a grunt.
He liked getting paid and getting laid at the same time. He felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for a perfect situation like this to fall into his lap.
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Eddie paced at the doorway, flexing his hands into fists, “so this Craig fucker came here to what? Terrorize you? Try and get you back? I will put a bullet in his skull.”
You gave Eddie the cliff notes version of your relationship with Craig while you got dressed. How you thought he was fun and charming at first, but once you moved in with him, things got scary. He wouldn’t let you talk to your friends or go anywhere without him. When you first got the courage to leave, he broke into the house you were staying at in the middle of the night and put a knife to your throat. He’d been honorably discharged from the military and used his connections in the police force to bypass the protection order you filed on him. He was emotionally and physically abusive and stalked you for two years before you were able to make it to Hawkins without much more than the clothes on your back, and Eddie was reeling with how bad he wanted to get his hands on this guy. It made him want to start going up and down every street looking for him, which was not totally out of the question.
He had to go outside on the back patio for a smoke and you followed him. You sat down in one of the camp chairs on the concrete slab facing a patch of lawn that was maintained by the owner of the duplex, but Eddie stayed on his feet. You watched the muscles in his jaw flex as he frowned into his cigarette, his thoughts going to dark and dangerous places.
From what you told him about what the guy looked like and the description of his car, that was the dude who had stared Eddie down earlier. He didn’t want to alarm you anymore than you already were by telling you that he saw him, that the fucker had probably been in your house while you were taking a shower. He couldn’t have you staying at the duplex anymore until he could make sure that creep was long gone, and by long gone, he meant he was ready to put him in the dirt. If anyone could find him, Eddie could. He had family of the Kings who worked at police dispatch, and he had eyes all over town, from other tow truck drivers to every member of several MC’s. If this guy thought he was so sneaky, Eddie could do him one better.
Eddie was in a bad mood, cracking his knuckles, thinking about how much he would enjoy hurting this guy, when he heard a sniffle and realized you were crying.
“Hey, hey,” he snubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray Katie had there for the smoking she did when she was buzzed, and got down on his knees in front of you. He wiped a single tear off your cheek with his thumb, holding your jaw with gentle force so you would look at him. “This guy, he’s not gonna get near you again, alright? You’re gonna stay with me until I know you’re safe.” He cupped his hand around your neck and pulled your forehead to his. “Hey, I love you. You trust me when I say I’ll protect you, right?”
“It’s not that,” your eyes went to the Munson’s Garage patch on the front of his light blue work shirt. You kept your forehead pressed to his because you couldn’t look him in the eye. “Craig is dangerous, baby. I mean, he’s really crazy. I don’t want you getting hurt or---”
Eddie sat back on his heels, tilting his head to meet you eyes. “And you don’t think I’m crazy? Baby. I know you get the fluffy side of Eddie but I can do dangerous and crazy with the best of them. Okay? That’s all I’ve ever done. No one is going to fuck with my girl.”
His chocolate eyes searched you, needing to know that you believed you were safe.
You gnawed at your lip, eyes dewy and bloodshot. “I just wish this wasn’t happening,” you dropped your head again, mouth jerking down with impending sobs. “I wish we could run away.”
“Sorry baby but, fuck that,” Eddie stood. “You had to run from this guy once, he’s not gonna get the satisfaction of scaring you off this time. You’ve got me now.”
He squatted again, motioning for you to give him your hand and then he held it tight, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “And Steve and Robin and Wayne, and the whole Coffin Kings MC, baby. I want you to trust me. This fucker will be sorry he ever stepped foot in Hawkins.”
You slotted your hands on either side of his neck at his jawline, pulling him in, and the salt of your tears mingled in the kiss, your mouth opening wide to take him deeper. Unexpected moans of desperation escaped both of you, hands greedy for purchase on each other’s parts. You made it back inside the house just in time for Eddie to dive his hand down the waistband of your shorts.
“You’re mine,” he breathed, fucking two fingers up inside you, stifling your cry of pleasure with his mouth.
You scrambled to undo his jeans, pushing them down his hips. “I need you so bad, baby. Fuck me.”
There was no time to make it to the bedroom, you broke the kiss only long enough to bend over the kitchen island, shorts down, arching your ass up. Eddie swiped his cock along your glistening core only once before burying it inside of you groaning at the sensation. “Holy fuck, I love you,” Eddie murmured, proceeding to fuck his entire length inside, pulling your slit apart with his thumbs so that he could watch himself enter you.
You bucked back against him, meeting his urgency, biting your lip through hungry whimpers. Eddie shoveled his hand around the front of your throat and pulled you back, choking you with soft pressure while he other hand braced at your hip and he fucked you hard. He preferred to look at you when he was about to cum, but the two of you were frantic, and he was already close. Clinging to the counter, the wet slapping sounds of Eddie stretching you out were about to throw you over the edge. His hand moved from your throat to your mouth, dipping inside for you to suck them.
Eddie’s hips locked onto you as he came, and the sensation made your walls flutter, gripping him in a way that extended his orgasm, cursing, both of you crying out, able to forget about the worries of the world if only for those precious moments as you rode the high.
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At a decent chain Motel by a truck stop near the highway, Craig Ludlow paid for a week in advance and sat in the dark puffing a cigar by the window with the curtain tightly closed. An episode of The Twilight Zone was on the TV, and it was the only light but for the golden glow from the bathroom in the hall. On the table next to him was a razor blade on a mirror with white powder residue, a shot glass empty of its Jim Beam, and a handgun.
There had been an ugly landscape painting on the opposite wall, but he took it down to make room for his work. There was a big cork board there now, a place for all of the information he had on you and your little biker friends. Steve’s mugshot was up there, along with one of Eddie from 10 years earlier. Information on Wayne, Katie, the Velvet Hammer, every person or place you’d touched since you’d been to town. Somehow you’d slipped through his fingertips, and oh god, how he had missed you. Being a part of your life and knowing what you were up to was a part of who he was now, and he’d been feeling lost without it.
He planned use his connections to get in with Chief Hopper and make sure your new biker boyfriend had the law down his throat around every turn. Why was it so much to ask for you to let him love you? Your house was a mess, your bed not even made. Nothing in your drawers had been folded. It was obvious that you needed him and missed him and just didn’t know how to ask. You had always been such a prideful, silly goose.
A girl named Shari was working the night shift at the motel when she noticed, not for the first time, how odd the guy who checked into room 11 was. Shari happened to be the old lady of a Coffin Kings member named Jester, and she would tell him all about it, including the make and color of the SUV he drove, over the phone when he called to check up on her that evening. Coincidentally, War Machine had just let everyone know to keep an eye out for a creep of the same description who was stalking his girl. Jester headed over to make sure Shari was okay and waited in the shadows near the truck stop on his chopper, watching the lights from the TV flicker in room 11, keeping an eye on this guy so he could follow if he took off. Keeping him in his crosshairs to see if he should take care of this guy himself before he passed the word on to Eddie.
PART 14
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thank you so much for reading, my loves! Don't forget to tip your favorite stories/writers by commenting and/or reblogging ❤️
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Taglist: @notsobubblybaby @eighty6babyyy @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer @manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare @chaoticgood-munson @ms1oftheboys @emxcast @rhirojo @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @lma1986 @falling-solar-system @secretdryrose @kurdtbean @whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @dandelionnfluff @lilpotatobean2 @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @eddiemunson95 @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues@emilyslutface@mmunson86@onegirlmanytales @layla-loves-ed @rhirojo
296 notes · View notes
l0vem41l · 1 month
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star stickers and best efforts.
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「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited, hurt/comfort but 100% not at all, reader is mildly mean when nervous LIKE A BAD DOG /ref and most definitely written self-indulgently by accident, sun is mildly condescending, they r each others best supporters, mentions of a customer being rude but rly nothing crazy, sun uh... he's an interesting fella, BIGGG dialogue chunks im sorry im sorry 」
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「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」
↳ ft. the daycare attendant/sun/sundrop
author's note: my wip title was literally just "the one where you're yelled at" :p but... hiiii!!! obligatory return to fnaf real quick becuz,,, no, i still havent gotten into the ruin dlc but YES i do love sun's personality in help wanted 2..... if this is ooc u can erm. shove me into wet concrete. (。﹏。) aaannywayz!! missed this!!! missed this so much!!!! ( ╯□╰ ) sorry for not valentine's day posting,,, scandalous ik since im lit rally Called Valentine. but oh well. enjoy! or dont. if you dont im sorry please request fnaf stuff so i can Fix That /srs
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if you weren't relying on this job to put food on your table and a roof on your head, you’d burn the freddy fazbear’s mega pizzaplex to the ground for a piece of pocket lint and a pat on the head.
maybe it’s a bit dramatic to say that— you're paid well, you like your mostly robot coworkers, and most of the time (emphasis on most and not always) the work is manageable enough.
the customers are another story.
sun notices the minute you walk in the daycare. you look like you're a minor inconvenience away from murder— which naturally, makes him feel inclined to prod a little.
“well, someone’s awfully sulky today!”
while you’d typically crack a smile at the upbeat jester animatronic, his enthusiasm in the face of your misery is grating. there’s no energy left in your body to banter with him— you were using most of it to drag your feet over to the shoe caddy, toolbox in hand to fix up its shelf, now hanging askew due to a busted bracket.
“can it, sunny, i don't wanna hear it.” you mutter, more venomous than you intend it to be. he doesn’t even blink at your grumpiness. instead, he happily holds up the shelf while you inspect it and grab a new bracket to secure it.
at least he’s trying to make himself useful. you think to yourself.
his faceplate tilts slightly, staring at you with that ever present grin. his staring isn’t really helping, but you don’t fault him for it. you’ve gotten used to his antics by now. “woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” sun questions.
you shake your head.
“got yelled at by a customer— now, if you could please just drop the topic—” you sigh exasperatedly, not even bothering to finish the sentence as you sit down cross legged in front of the shoe caddy, slumping slightly in defeat.
much too persistent for his own good, sun decides that inquiring even further about the incident that seems to have you beat down is a good idea. “what’d you do?”
you consider feigning offense as he insinuates it’s somehow your fault. but you don’t. you just shrug it off.
“my job.” 
“ah, they do hate it when you do that.” he tuts.
“it wasn’t even that big of a deal,” you mutter, getting the bracket in place and marking it, “this one kid just so happened to walk up to the arcade machine i was putting an out of order sign on. i felt bad, so like, obviously, i hand the kid a few tokens, apologize politely, explain— and you’d think it’s all good right?”
you pause mid-ramble as you fix up the shelf. in all your misery, you forgot that you don’t even know exactly what caused the shelf to collapse like this. you consider asking.
sun leans in just a bit too close, interrupting your train of thought as you stare at the shelf. when you glance at him, he gives you a little nod.
go on, he seems to say wordlessly. he’s waiting silently for you to continue your story. it’s never not unnerving when he’s quiet.
“...anyways, uh... the kid’s dad came by and got mad or something. didn’t understand why i couldn’t just let him play one game since it looked perfectly functional— keep in mind, this is the arcade machine that literally kept eating up tokens only to not function, and shocked kids when it did— so i kept trying to explain why i couldn’t exactly do that. but for some reason, it was such a big fucking deal—”
“language.” he chides.
“...fricking deal. of course, i had to be berated for it. i offered to grab them more faz-tokens as compensation and i thought the problem was solved... and then i checked and saw he still left a bad review. definitely gonna hear about that from management.” sun hands you a tool as you continue to speak.
“but now i’m upset, i’m definitely in trouble, and my face hurts from the whole customer service smile i was holding that entire conversation. like seriously, i don’t know how i’m expected to do that 24/7.” you stop at your last remark and stare at sun and his unchanging expression. “...my bad.”
the awkward silence only lasts for a moment, thankfully. you’ve spoken your piece— sun decides to speak his.
“you did your best.” he says simply, as you finally fix the shelf into place. he pats you on the head and doesn't even hide his amusement when you sulk.
“i know that tone, sunny, you're making fun of me—”
“poor thing.” he continues, grinning brightly as he makes a show of patronizing you. sun’s hand continues to pat the top of your head gently, like he would when consoling a child. or when greeting a dog. has he,,, ever seen a dog before? probably not.
you groan and manage to shove his arm away.
“i do mean it though,” he continues, his tone still lighthearted— but notably more earnest as he notes your expression. sun helps you put your tools away neatly back into the toolbox, even though it really is just a one-man job.
“you tried your best,” sun closes the toolbox with a flourish and a click, “...and for that—!”
with a dramatic flick of his wrist, bells jingling as he does, sun produces a gold star sticker from… somewhere. he holds it up for you to see.
and then gently presses it onto the tip of your nose.
“to my favoritest human employee here! and my bestest of friends!” it’s hard to bite back a smile at those words. even if his little show of empathy and affection is much too theatrical for your current mood.
“whatever.” you shrug a little, unable to stop the corners of your mouth from twitching into a little grin. standing up and grabbing the toolbox, you give him an awkward thumbs up.
“thanks. and uh… sorry. for being mean. i guess.”
sun shakes his head dismissively, bouncy and bright as ever. “oh, don't mention it!”
something about his seeming lack of offense towards your prickliness makes you feel even more guilty. still, he gives you a wave as you head out, “bye-bye”-ing happily as you walk away, sticker stuck to your nose and smile on your face like an idiot.
you decide you’ll find a way to make it up to him later. you figure he deserves that much for putting up with everything.
meanwhile, sun is taking mental notes on more stuff to break of whenever you’ve been away for too long. just in case, of course. maybe you’d have more interesting customer encounters to rant about. and hey, you could use the company, couldn’t you?
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— reblogs always appreciated!
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98 notes · View notes
vminizzle · 1 year
Text
SERIES || Hope - JJK
Part 1 : the news
pairing : husband!jungkook × f.reader
genre : smut, fluff, !!angst!!
warnings : love making, marking, praising, petnames, penetration, unprotected sex,, mention of : blood, insecurity, ft. bestfriend!jimin, bestfriend!taehyung
words count : 2.6k
A/N: hi my lovely people, I hope you’ll enjoy reading the first part of the "series". I tried my best, sorry in advance for my mistakes. I was a bit anxious about posting it. I don’t know if it’s good enough or idk, but I worked a lot on it. Enjoy :)
FEEDBACKS ARE VERY WELCOMED
SERIES MASTERLIST
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M RATED
“thank you for today, i spent an amazing day.”
You thanked your husband as you held hands walking toward your front door.
“my pleasure. I had an amazing day too, thank you.” he kissed your hand softly making you smiled.
Entering your house, you headed straight to your bedroom. You sat on the edge of your bed sighing heavily.
“Are you ok my love?” Jungkook asked kneeling down between your legs.
You nodded, looking down as he took off your shoes.
“thank you.” you smiled softly looking at him taking care of you.
He lifted one of your legs carefully, placing your foot on his thigh, massaging your swollen ankle making you sigh.
“Does it hurt?” He asked making you shook your head before suddenly complaining.
“I just hate having my feet swollen like that.. I just feel like a whale! a fucking whale! just look at me please I’m getting fatter every single day! I have to pee every damn hour! right now i smell like shit i just want to take a bath. How can you stay with me? I’m always starving! I’m eating like there is no tomorrow I feel like i’m arghh.” your hormones acting up again.
Your pregnancy was like a roller coaster, one minute you felt happy and the minute after sad or annoyed for no specific reasons.
You hated it, but Jungkook on the other hand found it quite amusing.
“don’t cry.” he chuckled again wiping the tear sliding down your cheek with his thumb.
You pouted your eyes getting teary again.
“It’s not my fault. It comes like that.” you explained sniffing.
Jungkook cupped your cheek before getting up.
“i know.” he whispered before bending down a little, he looked into your eyes before connecting your lips together.
He kissed you softly enjoying the way your hands flew to the collar of his shirt to pull him closer to you.
You needed him so bad.
It was so sudden, here you go again, those stupid hormones.
You couldn’t control yourself as you grabbed the back of his neck desperately.
Jungkook pulled away making you whined.
“eager, huh?” he said teasingly, a smirk decorating his lips.
You slapped his shoulder getting embarrassed.
“don’t be shy princess.” he grabbed your hands helping you stood up.
“let’s go take a bath.” you looked down a bit disappointed.
“what is it?” he asked confused making you looked at him.
“ineedyou.” you mumbled.
“huh?” Jungkook tried his best not to laugh at how shy you were suddenly.
“i didn’t hear you, can you repeat please?”
You groaned making your way to the bathroom locking the door behind you, making Jungkook laugh out loud.
He knocked on the door softly. “can I come in?”
You didn’t response.
“C'mon baby, I was kidding.” he tried again.
Hearing the water running, he knew you were mad at him.
He smiled knowing that you couldn’t be mad at him for too long.
“take a good bath, call me if you need anything my love.” he said before walking away to sit on the edge of the bed.
“I won’t!” you answered loud enough for him to hear.
Jungkook laughed again.
"i love you babe!” he shouted out.
“i love you too idiot!” you said making him smile widely.
Jungkook was laying down when you exited the bathroom only in your underwear.
He got up immediatly at the sight in front of him.
You were just so.. “ethereal”.
“come here.” he gestured you to come to him.
You stood in front of him, his hands flying straight to your hips making you step closer in between his legs.
“you look so so beautiful.” he looked up at you before kissing your baby bump making your heart melt.
“are you still mad at me?” he pouted.
You sighed regretfully “no. I’m sor-”
He shook his head interrupting you “don’t.”
He backed a little on the bed before pulling you to him making you straddled his hips.
You weren’t close enough you thought, as you looked at the space between the two of you, your baby bump separating your bodies.
“do you still want me?” he whispered as he brushed his lips on yours softly.
You felt this familiar feeling in between your legs.
You nodded, feeling his hands caressing your sides.
“good then.” he started leaving little wet kisses on your neck making your head fall back giving more access to kiss on your throat.
You bit your bottom lip as his lips travelled down to your collarbones, biting softly on it making you whined.
Jungkook’s hands went behind your back, fingers ghosting over your bra, waiting for your permission to unhooked it.
“please take it off.” you looked at him holding on his shoulders.
Throwing the bra away on the carpeted floor, his lips instantly came to kiss on your soft and swelled breast.
He left little marks here and there making you moan. A tear rolled down your cheek as he started sucking softly on your sensitive nipple.
“Jungkook.” you whined making him looked at you.
He immediatly detached his lips acknowledging how sensitive your body was.
He laid you on your back carefully, placing pillows behind your head.
“are you still with me?” he asked.
You breathed a little “yes” out making him smiled.
He took his shirt and pants off, you helped him get rid of your panties, the rest of your clothes joining your bra on the floor.
He was between your legs, kissing the inside of your thigh. You watched as his lips got higher, closer to your most sensitive part.
You moaned softly when you felt him bite the flesh of your warm thigh.
He grabbed a pillow to place it behind your lower back so your hips were a bit higher.
“are you comfortable?” he asked looking up at you before grabbing your hand.
“yes don’t worry.” you cupped his cheek.
Jungkook kissed your hand before kneeling in-between your legs.
He grabbed one of your thigh carefully putting it on his.
“tell me to stop at anytime if you feel uncomfortable or if it hurts hm?” he insisted making you chuckle.
“yes sir.” you said making him laugh.
He bent down a little, his cock teasing your core as he rubbed himself between your wet lips.
“Jungkook please stop teasing.” you whined.
Jungkook held on your waist as he entered you slowly.
You bit you lower lip, the stretch a bit uncomfortable yet pleasurable, making you close your eyes as you felt him inside of you.
“you feel so good my love.” he groaned lowly.
“are you ok?” he checked one more time.
“move please.” you moaned softly.
Jungkook licked his lips before moving inside you making you clench around him.
“fuck you’re so warm.” he breathed out as he started going in and out a bit faster.
One of his hand travelled to your chest, cupping your breast, massaging it gently.
You moaned, the stimulation making you feel lightheaded. A tear slid down you cheek, the pleasure consuming you as you felt your high coming.
Jungkook noticed it as he wiped the tear away.
“I’m close.” you moaned softly.
“i know love.” he bent down kissing your baby bump.
His hand cascaded down between your legs, his thumb drawing circles on your clit making you moan louder.
Jungkook intertwined your fingers together as you came.
You kept on clenching around him, the pression pushing hin to his own climax.
Jungkook fell next you, placing your head on his sweaty chest.
“i love you my love.” he whispered out of breath.
“I love you.” you whispered back leaving a light kiss on his jawline.
After a few minutes, he helped you getting rid of the pillow behind your lower back, before laying you comfortably.
Putting both your underwear, he laid next to you turning his head to the side as he stared at you lovingly. He kissed your forehead before talking again.
“I’ll not be able to attend our appointment tomorrow.” he sighed deeply as he laid his hand gently on your belly.
“I’m sorry.” he looked down at you sadly.
“it’s ok Koo. We’ve already talked about it earlier, I understand, your meeting is important.”
“thank you for understanding.” he said genuinely.
“it’s fine.” you smiled.
“I love you so much.” he said laying a loving kiss on your shoulder.
“i love you too Jungkook.”.
“Mr. Jeon is not here today?” the doctor asked as you greeted each other.
“He couldn’t make it. He has this important meeting.” you sighed as he gestured you to sit.
“ah I understand. That’s too bad.” you hummed nodding.
“because today is kind of special.” he smiled.
You looked at him expectantly “is that so?”
The doctor nodded looking down at the sheet laying on his desk in front of him “do you want to know the baby’s gender?”
Your hand flew over your mouth “really?!”
He hummed sliding the paper toward you “oh no no!” you closed your eyes sliding the piece of information back to him.
“Can you, perhaps, write it on a paper and put it in an envelop so my husband and I discover it at the same time? please?”
The doctor laughed softly “of course Mrs. Jeon.”
He did what you requested before handing you the "confidential" note.
After doing the little check up as usual, you shook hands ready to leave the medical cabinet.
“good bye Mrs. Jeon, take care.” you smiled as you left.
You couldn’t stop smiling as you grabbed your phone to text your husband.
Jungkook ♡
[15:07] y/n : hi?
[15:15] Jungkook : hey baby. Is everything ok?
[15:16] y/n : are you free tonight?
[15:16] Jungkook : yep! my meeting just ended and I can finish my work before coming home.
[15:17] Jungkook : why?
[15:17] y/n : I’ve got a surprise for you! hehe
[15:17] Jungkook : a surprise?
[15:17] y/n : yes! we’re going out tonight.
[15:18] y/n : if you’re ok with it ofc
[15:18] Jungkook : Of course!! I can’t wait!
[15:18] y/n : yeaa!! see you tonight then.
[15:19] Jungkook : see you later ♡ love you
[15:20] y/n : love you too ♡
Groupchat : Besties ♡
[15:24] y/n : guysss!!
[15:27] Tae : yoooo!!
[15:29] Chim : what’s up baby?!
[15:29] y/n : GUESS!!
[15:29] Tae : you bought ice cream?
[15:30] Chim : you met justin bieber?
[15:30] y/n : shut up!! It’s about the baby!!
[15:30] Tae : the baby is born??
[15:30] Chim : say it!
[15:31] y/n : I know the baby’s gender!!!
[15:31] Tae : NO WAY!
[15:31] y/n : yup!
[15:32] Chim : Is it a boy?
[15:32] Tae : a girl?
[15:33] y/n : idk
[15:33] Tae : what?
[15:33] Chim : I’m lost.
[15:33] y/n : well, let me explain real quick. I asked my doc to write the baby’s gender on a paper and hide it so I can find out with Jungkook tonight. Because he had a meeting earlier.
[15:34] Chim : ah ok ok
[15:34] y/n : but i need you guys to help me, to give me an idea for a surprise. Y'know for the gender reveal.
[15:34] Tae : what about balloons and the color stuff?
[15:35] Chim : or cake? when you put blue or pink fodder inside.
[15:35] Tae : CAKE ALL THE WAY!
[15:35] Chim : you want to go out for the surprise?
[15:36] y/n : I wanted to.
[15:36] Tae : I have an idea!! i know a great restaurant, I’ll send you the address go check it. Order a cake and ask then to put something inside the dessert :)
[15:37] y/n : ahhhh thank you boys!!
[15:37] Tae : you’re welcome! I’ll send you the address
You went to the restaurant Taehyung recommended you and you reserved a table.
You ordered the cake, handing the little note to the waitress which sent you a big smile.
“I’ll transmit it to the chef. Congratulations, can’t wait to see you again tonight.” she said still smiling.
“thank you.” You smiled back thanking her.
Groupchat : Besties ♡
[16:57] y/n : I reserved a table and ordered the cake. Thank you again guys.
[16:59] Chim : you’re welcome!!
[17:08] Tae : it was a pleasure dear :)
[17:08] Chim : enjoy your date.
[17:08] Tae : yes! you’ll tell us :p
[17:09] Chim : everything!
[17:10] Tae : in. details.
[17:10] y/n : yea yea I will. And thank you again hehe
[17:10] Tae : and also about the thing, you’ll announce us after him!
[17:11] Chim : yep! since we’re your best friends and we helped you, we need to know it after him huh
[17:11] y/n : yea yea don’t worry :’)
You welcomed home a tired Jungkook, hugging him tightly as a smile slowly crept up his face.
“how are you love?” he asked kissing your cheek softly before bending down to your baby bump to kiss it gently making you smile widely.
“I’m good.” you said happily.
“what 'bout you?” you caressed his cheek lovingly.
“not gonna lie, I’m exhausted today.” he sighed leaning into the palm of your hand.
You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him take his shoes off.
“hm did you forget?”
“about what?” he looked at you confused.
“tonight?” you smiled expectantly wishing he did not forget.
“oh shit! I’m sorry baby. I forgot about our date.”
He sighed loudly walking to the living room before dropping onto the couch.
“an important one..” your smile gradually vanished.
“it was a surprise.” you whispered a bit disappointed.
“I’m sorry honey. I promise I’ll make it up to you huh?”
“but it’s not like our usual dates.. it’s a special one.” you said back.
“I know it was supposed to be a surprise but I can’t tonight. I’m sorry.” he said exhaustion laced in his voice as he closed his eyes, head resting on the back of the couch.
“But Koo.” you whined “you promised.. I swear you won’t be disappointed!”
“I said i can’t babe, I promise next time.”
“But Jungkook it’s about-”
Before you could finish your sentence, Jungkook interrupted you angrily, perhaps, forgetting that you were sensitive and your pregnancy was not helping.
“No! I said I can’t! are you that dumb to not understand?! I’m fucking tired. I worked all day! You’re always the one begging me to rest and to sleep. Now that I decide to do it you’re not letting me? what’s wrong with you?! I said I’ll make it next time!”
Your heart stopped, throat dry as you froze.
It was the first time he yelled at you.
You probably overstep the boundaries. He really must have had a horrible day to be like that.
You gulped before speaking again.
“I’m sorry Jungkook.. you’re right you should rest, you seem to have had a shitty day.”
He sighed loudly “I’m sor-”
“no it’s fine.” you whispered.
You walked to the front door putting your shoes on. You looked at him one last time before leaving the house, not hearing him asking you where you were going.
The cold air hit your face as you walked to the park, heart broken.
You couldn’t stop thinking about what happened home.
“I’m so annoying.” you let a sob escaped from your throat as tears streamed down your cheeks, your vision becoming blurry.
You crossed the road, uncarefully, eyes staring at the floor as you continued walking.
You were too immersed into your thoughts that you didn’t notice nor hear the car racing fastly to you.
Your body violently hit the floor, head colliding hard.
You could heard people screaming and rushing to you “someone call an ambulance!”
“oh my god she’s pregnant!”
Someone kneeled beside you, laying your head carefully on their thigh “she’s still breathing.”
They put their hand on your side noticing blood “fuck! she’s bleeding!”
“M'aam can you hear me?” the person waved a hand in front of you, hand cupping your cheek.
“Jungkook.” was the last thing you said before passing out.
────
A/N : ahhhhh thank you so much for reading. I hope you liked it. Don’t hesitate to leave feedbacks! If u want to be added to the taglist or removed from it, just let me know. love ya’ guys! Please take care.
TAGLIST : @btssevenx @starstruckfangirls @riworlds @babycandy111 @chimmisbae @borahaexoxo @bxcndd @tokiodori @jungkooksseuphoria @manuosorioh @axa-00
@kleirielk @kissme-ornot @delasmooth @cartiluv3r @lalita-7 @ohyeahjk @starlight-1010 @0funsite0
498 notes · View notes
roturo · 8 months
Text
MOONLIGHT SUNRISE
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summary: You never thought your modeling career wouldn't turn the way it did, but, maybe this new world was a new opportunity to also find love?
warnings: smut, bdsm (mentions of it, but it's not implied yet.), fingering, nipple play, edging, orgasm denial, straddling, modeling au, fashionista?!gojo satoru, model!reader.
IMPORTANT A/N AT THE END.
TUMBLR IS BASED ON A REBLOG SYSTEM. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK. THANK YOU. ENJOY. SMUT BELOW THE CUT.
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“I know you are awake! Open the door! It's good news!” Your best-friend, and roommate kept calling your name through the door, yesterday wasn't a great night. You failed at the mission to be part of some runaways, because 'you don't fit the concept' so what else you could expect? How could you achieve your modeling career?
You opened the door, and your best-friend sprinted towards you, pushing you so you could lay again on bed. “You’ve some job to do tonight.” She told you, grabbing her phone from her pocket, “Oh my god, it's not my time to do the laundry this week- you know-“
“You´re going to a runaway! I got you the job!”
“what??“
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And she was right. You got the job! But this didn't seem like a normal runaway at all. You were waiting for the make-up artist to arrive while everyone had already changed into some 'weird' clothes, mostly black and silver, which, you suppose that's the theme... but... some of them, had quite different accessories.
Handcuffs... nipple clamps, harness.... were those pet collars?... gags...
“Oh! You're the newbie! A friend of mine talked me about you.” A man got closer to you, he called your name and you simple nodded. ¨Great! Here, take your clothes, this are some puffy handcuffs, well, because you're new, and we don’t want to hurt those pretty wrists. You can ask someone else to help you put them on, then… we have a black basic satin dress, pretty cute! I know, and a satin matching blindfold. So now go! Fiu! Show me what you got butterfly!¨
W....what? Everything happened in a flash, everything is happening in a flash. He pushed you into what you suppose it's a changing room...
You changed into your new clothes... no shoes... they were doing your makeup, nothing too much, you could see it was pretty natural. ¨Oh dear, you're the new one right? Want me to help you with those?¨ The makeup artist signaled at the shiny silver handcuff, with some puffy black bom-boms, you shyly nodded.
Without you telling them, they also got the blindfold on your head, how were you supposed to see? Man, I don't even know, and they were already telling you to do a line.
They were about 2 people in front of you, seeing by the small space between your blindfold and nose, only seeing the floor and feet. You felt someone slightly pushing you to start walking.
You were praying to god to not let you fall this time, one two three, one two three, was all in your head, toe heel, toe heel, you're doing it great!
Not realizing some blur orbs followed you along.
You thought this was over? Well, too bad for you, because now it's exhibition time so buyers can see what they are buying to play with! Isn't this amazing?
You couldn't see anything, trying your best to stay still, but you swear some woman was examining even the pores of your face. “I've never seen you here? Are you new here?”
She got closer to you, feeling her breathing on your face, she grabbed your hair, twirling it around her finger. “Aren't you cute?” She pulled her finger with your hair, a small whine leaving you. “Get on your knees.”
Her voice sounded demanding, it's like something controlled you. You got one knee down first and then the other. She left an astonished laugh, like she couldn't believe what she saw... not like you can.
“You don't even know nothing about BDSM! What are you doing here?”
You could hear her saying some bad remarks of your posture and how you 'aren't well trained' hearing some giggles at the distant.
She mildly slapped you, causing you to finally break-down, some tears spilling out of your eyes, thanks to the embarrassment, you were scared, mostly because you don't know what you got into.
When you felt you were about to get another hit, another voice came into space.
“Why don't you respect the models who are offering you the little toys you will use for your couple? Or are you jealous they look better on her than in you?” Her hand was tightly trapped by the other persons hand. “You better leave, because security already knows what you did, and they'll get you.”
You heard a huff from the lady, you flinched at the feeling of someone else untying your blindfold to be met with some beautiful blue crystal eyes, some white hair, and a black suit. He might be the handsomest man you ever seemed in your life. He caressed your cheek, tilting your head to the side, searching for any bruises. Then he smiled with no teeth. “Get up darling, it's okay.”
You haven't realized the big height difference between you two until you were completely up.
“Thank you...?”
“Satoru darling, call me Satoru.”
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“I can’t fucking believe you!” Your best friend laughed when you told her about what happened, if she’s isn’t a bitch….
“I don’t know how you can laugh at what YOU did.”
“If i’m being honest with you, I knew it was a bdsm runaway, been into that shit for some years now, but I didn’t know the GOJO SATORU was going to be there and save your ass! You don’t know how lucky you are”
“What are you talking about? They humiliated me there! At least they had to pay me as good as they did, and thankfully they also gave me a bonus for the ‘misunderstanding’ And I couldn’t care less about Gojo Satoru, I don’t even know who he is.”
Your friend gave you the same bitchy face as the old lady from the exhibition… asshole. “What do you mean you don’t know Gojo Satoru? He’s like one of the best fashionista’s not only in the BDSM style but, in Europe he’s an icon!”
“So…?” You asked, looking for your phone somewhere in the sheets of your bed.
“So? He’s like your big chance for your modeling career! The next Bella Hadid!” She made a gesture with her hands like a rainbow, while making a serious face trying to imitate a model.
When you found your phone, the first thing you saw in your lock screen was a new text-message from an unknown number, which you showed to your friend and signaled her to open it.
“No fucking way.” Your best friend took your phone out of your hands, she couldn’t believe it.
And no fucking way, indeed. The Gojo Satoru was offering you to work for him, not only as model but as… his sub?
What?…
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As you entered his house, because, obviously your friend ‘wouldn’t let you loose a chance like this’, she taught you a little bit of what’s BDSM and how it’s executed beforehand. Something new for you, but you couldn’t criticize people for their sexual preferences when you haven’t even tried it yet.
You sat at an incredible large table on Satoru’s house, (more like a mansion for you), waiting for him. His, what you suppose, assistant, told you to wait there and brought you a glass of water. As you were looking around, Satoru sat next to you.
“It’s a pretty house, isn’t it?” You looked at his beautiful blue eyes, loosing yourself in them, even though you could barely see them with those black round little glasses he was using.
Both of your introduced to the other, more formally, pulling a small chat between the both of you to know each other. Where you work, how old are you, likes and dislikes, you learned he used to be a modeling teacher before he started his formal career as a fashionista, he was also a model, he achieved a lot of things even when he’s really young. He’s really charismatic and funny, made you feel like you known him for your whole life.
But then… He suddenly pulled a folder from down the table and put in front of you.
“You can found the contract for your modeling career, we give you a paycheck every month about 30k, depends on what you do, obviously, if you accept being my sub, that’s the price, if you want to only be a model it would be reduced to 15k. You can also found a paper where you’ll give your consent to what kinks, toys, you would like to use. Depending of how you adapt you can quit or add one. But for now, it’s for the first 3 months, then you could change it.”
….
What the fuck. Everything was going great, what happened to hello? How are you? this changed really, really quickly.
Satoru laughed at your innocence, you couldn’t believe what was happening that you didn’t even realized you said it out loud.
“Of course, you don’t have to sign the sub contract now, we can try some more vainilla things, or just model.”
“Vainilla?” You tilted your face, looking at him, you couldn’t deny it, he’s a nice, very nice, looking guy, broad shoulders, long and strong legs, same as the arms, tall, and a pretty smile. You felt really flustered when he defended you from that lady the other day.
“Yeah, vainilla, normal sex, just fuck you and that. Or…are you a virgin?” You felt the blood rushing to your face, how could he talk about this things so normally?
“I had sex… one-two times….” You said, in a shy voice which was barely loud enough to hear.
He chuckled, his hand sliding to grab yours. “Wanna have a third time?”
“Huh?” Did you heard that right? Is he asking you to have sex?
“Do you want me to fuck you so you can see if you feel comfortable?” This time he said it slower, trying to see if your confused face would change into something else so he can know if you understood him.
“H-here?…”
“If you want to fuck here, then I guess that’s okay! Tables can be quite useful” He stood up from his seat, unbuttoning his jacket.
“Wait, wait wait! No!” He took off his jacket, and he laughed. “I’m not undressing myself sweetheart, I can tell how you’re feeling about all this, is something new to you, I understand it.”
“Uh…” You really wanted to try this, it’s something new, and it sparked some curiosity in you.
“We can try kissing?”
“Kissing?” He seemed confused, he thought he would need you known you for some time more, so you could get familiar with him, but as it seemed, you were interested in this new world of BDSM.
“If you’re comfortable about that, it’s good for me, maybe later I can take you for a coffee or tea, depending what you like.” He gave you a small smile with a wink, sitting again.
Without giving a second thought, you stood up from your seat, taking shy steps until you were in front of him. Something about him felt so familiar, you couldn’t understand what made you feel comfortable in his presence, it’s like this was something you’ve done plenty of time. You slowly sat on his lap, grabbing your arms around his neck, his hand sliding around your waist. And like that, you gave him a small peck on his lips. His face was the same as you, shocked, he wouldn’t think you would have the courage to this.
You could see a small shade of pink on his cheeks and ears, making you giggle and give him another peck. This was fun. His hand grabbed your waist in a more possessive way, it’s like it was meant to be there.
His other hand, grabbed you by the back of your head and pulled you into a kiss.
You didn’t meant to rush it, but his lips on yours felt so good that your body started unconsciously moving back and forth, you heard a small groan coming out of him and the hand that was on your head slid down to grab you by the waist too, helping you straddle him.
A small whine left your mouth when the button of his jeans touched your clothed pussy, this feeling was so hard to explain, it just felt so right.
His lips felt just as soft and heavenly as your imagination had remembered, sweet and addicting just like him.
With a sigh, you slipped your hand into his hair, tugging a bit at the soft tendrils at the back of his head.
You nearly shivered at the grunt he let out in response to the action, bucking his hips up to meet yours making you let out a hum of approval into his mouth.
Rolling your hips down onto him in response, your breath caught in your throat as he gripped your hips to guide your movements into his bulge, thrusting up off the bed to meet you as you both let out noises of satisfaction into each other’s mouths.
“How slow do you want to take this?” He asked, almost sounding pained as he panted up at you. The look in his eyes wasn’t one you were familiar with on him; wild and nearly starved.
“I… I’ve just never…”
“It’s okay darling, i’ll help you through it.”
He gets you to lay down on the table, not completely, but comfortable enough. Satoru licks and pecks every part of your body. With your arms wrapped around his neck. He kisses you slowly from your forehead, nose, lips, shoulders, collarbone , and breasts . He stopped for a while, just about your nipple. He glances up at you for a minute , he can see you were showing your vulnerable and desperate body. It wasn’t your intention, but your position and expression showed it all.
A small smirk forms on his lips before he gets under your shirt and starts to slowly suck and lick on your nipple, from time to time. The sensation makes you whimper, but he was going painfully slow with everything. You want him inside of you already and to fuck you hard.
One of his hands slid through your body until your jeans. Unbuttoning them, he inserted his hand through your panties, his fingertips brushed through your folds, coating them in your juices and you whined when you felt him rub slowly at your clit. “how long have you been like this.” his voice was so calm, a contrast to how shaky your breath was.
“When I… I started kissing you.” You gasped and he started applying more pressure to your clit.
“Poor baby.” he cooed at you. “You must be so needy.” his fingers teased at your entrance and you bucked your hips towards his hand, causing him to chuckle.
He eased one of his fingers inside you and a soft moan left your lips, your hips moving to ride his finger, his eyes intensely staring at you. “more.” you whined quietly.
“More?” he smirked and inserted another finger, feeling how your walls clenched around his digits, his hand moving to match the movements of your hips, thrusting his finger in and out of your pussy and you could ear the wet sounds it did.
Your whimpers and moans started getting louder, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulder over the fabric of his white shirt and he groaned at the feeling, letting his head fall back into your neck, staring at you with hooded eyes as you fucked yourself on his fingers. not only his fingers felt amazing but he also looked so good in front of you and just looking at him fingering you could send you over the edge. His thumb came up to rub at your clit and your teeth sinked into your bottom lip, the feeling becoming too intense.
His fingers thrusted inside of you faster and deeper, your juices running down his hand as his thumb applied even more pressure on your clit and you were so overwhelmed that you couldn’t even kiss him properly anymore, too focused on how good his fingers felt inside you.
“Cum on my fingers, baby.” He broke the kiss for a short second, encouraging you, and then went back to devouring your mouth. your fingers intertwined with the locks of his hair, pulling slightly at it causing him to groan and the feeling became too much to hold it in anymore, he suddenly stopped. A familiar ring coming through your phone. He chuckled at your face. Dry tears covered your face, hickeys all around your neck, and you were slowly moving your hips to gain the friction back.
You left a small whine at the loss of his fingers inside of you, he inserted them on his mouth, moaning at the taste. He then grabbed your phone and gave it to you.
“That’s only a preview of what you could get if you accept my offer” And with that, he just winked and left.
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A/N: This was really rushed tbh, i thought of turning this into a series, but recently i've been feeling pretty bad with my english, mostly because i think i'm not good enough at writing, or expressing the story the way i would've wanted to be. I have plently of cool ideas, but i can't do them since i feel like they won't be good enough. And that's how i've been feeling about my writings recently, i think they're REALLY bad. So i might take a break, idk, maybe keep trying, or just quit. I'm still thinking about it. So i hope you enjoyed this one :)
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spookyquill · 4 months
Note
Hi could I request and Chuuya x reader (gender neytral or female) with inexperienced reader? I don't mean the nsfw stuff (tho if you want to then its welcome) but like never been in any romantic relationship. And they feel a bit insecure cause what if Chuuya would feel dissapointed in them? Hurt/comfort bascially, feel free to ignore tho sbjdns have a nice day!
- it hurts sometimes to see happy couples on the street
- not that you and Chuuya weren’t happy, you loved each other a lot
- but sometimes you’d feel upset with yourself
- see, you hadn’t had any sort of romantic relationship in your life, ever. So when you started having a crush towards Chuuya, you weren’t quite sure how to act around him
- and when he approached you with his confession, you had to stand there in shock in front of him for a while, so long that he had started leaving. But thankfully you willed your body to hug him tightly, reciprocating his feelings
- you felt happy, fluttery, like you were constantly jittering. It was weird at first
- your first kiss with him was a bit awkward. You weren’t sure exactly what to do or how to match his rhythm. But he helped you practice plenty
- even with his gentle words and teachings, you were still insecure about yourself
- you couldn’t stop the thoughts that you weren’t enough for him, that you wouldn’t be able to meet his standards, that you were a failure as a partner
- it was eating you alive and Chuuya could see it
~•~
The door opens with a small squeak as Chuuya enters your apartment. “Hey, sorry I’m late. The boss had me look over some of the reports the new recruits made. They were awful at best. They all needed to be redone.”
He takes his coat off and hangs it on the coat rack, then slides his shoes off before trudging into the lounge room. He stops at the doorway, the sight of you staring blankly at your feet giving away your glum mood.
“(Y/n)?” Chuuya steps around the furniture and kneels in front of you. “Babe you okay?”
Your eyes focus on Chuuya for a split second. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. I can see it on your face.” He could even hear it in your tone but he wasn’t going to mention that.
You turn away from him, face scrunching up as if your close to tears.
Chuuya gently cups your cheek, his gloved palm guiding you back to face him. “I can tell that something has been bothering you for a while. I don’t expect you to tell me now, but if there’s any way that I can help, please tell me. I don’t want to keep coming here and seeing you upset.”
It takes a few moments to process his words. You stare into his gentle blue eyes, his face showing concern. It doesn’t take long for tears to well up in your eyes.
“I’m not good enough.” Your lips wobble a bit as you speak.
Chuuya furrows his brows, confused. “What?”
“I-I’m not good enough for you. I don’t know what I’m doing or how to go about in a relationship. I see everyone out and about being relaxed and looking natural in their relationship but I’m here not even sure if I’m kissing you right. I don’t know if I’m good enough for you.”
“Okay wait. Hang on right there, not another word.” Chuuya speaks with such a stern voice it mildly scares you.
Tears cascade down you face, forcing you to close them in shame. Chuuyas hand disappears from your face for a moment. But it returns bare, his glove no longer being a barrier. His thumb caresses your cheek, wiping away the tears as they fall.
“You are enough for me. You’re more then enough. It’s okay to feel like your unsure about relationships. I’ll tell you a secret.” He leans closer to you, hooking his fingers underneath your chin, enticing you to open your eyes again to look at him. “I’ve never been in a relationship either.”
A few seconds of silence passes. “What?”
Chuuya nods. “Yeah. I mean I’ve had my on night flings but I’ve never been in a relationship. Never had someone to call mine.”
It was honestly shocking for you to hear him say it. “Really?”
Chuuya stands for a moment, moving to sit on the couch. He then drags your body over to his, letting you rest your head on his chest. “Yeah. I’ve never been in a committed relationship. Never found the right person. But now I have. I’m committed to you. I’m committed to learn with you.”
You nuzzle into his chest, hand gripping at his vest, crumpling it a little, not that he cares. “So I’m not a disappointment?”
Chuuya scoffs. “Of course but. I don’t think you’d ever disappoint me. I chose you because I love you. Not because I thought you’d bring something to me or give me anything. Not because I am attracted to you. Your personality, your looks, the way you speak kindly to others even if you know they’re criminals. All I ask is that you be you. You don’t need to change anything about you.”
His speech leaves you with a smile.
“Why don’t we order in and watch that favourite film of yours. We’ll just relax tonight.”
The night goes exactly like that. The two of you ending up with takeout surrounding you and movies playing on the tv.
~•~
Sorry for being absent for a while, been busy the past few weeks. But things should be settling back down now so I should be able to pump out some fics for you all
Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!
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nattyscuddlycabin · 8 months
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Sparks Fly
Natasha Romanoff x f!Reader
Warnings: red room ways of raising girls, bad coping mechanisms, mission gone wrong, deaths of people (not major characters), language, mentions of blood, gauze, and wrap
Genre: Angst + Fluff ending
Summary: Natasha’s mission failed, leading to civilian deaths, and she ends up coping in a way she was thought by the Red Room.
A/N: Reader is Bulgarian in this because I am lazy and I don’t feel like dealing with google translate right now, so I just used my home language cuz it’s also slavic, ok? Ok!
Translations:
Bulgarian:
любов моя - my love
мое златно сърце- my golden heart
Russian:
Детка-baby
(メ﹏メ)
The mission was for the team to rescue the Hydra “experiments” then blow up the base. However, the outcome of the mission ended up being a blown up base with just two or three experimented on kids being saved. It was all a miscommunication, but Natasha blamed herself for it. She thought that she should have been able to help fix the chaos and save the rest of the kids, but there they were, back at the tower, filling it with thick melancholy in the air.
Y/N tried to soothe Natasha and help her not think of it all as her fault. She wasn’t at the mission, but she knew that Nat wasn’t fully at fault and that Nat did everything in her power to get the mission to go right. Natasha Romanova may seem cold but she always does her best to save everybody.
Finally, Nat just told Y/N that she wants some alone time to process things. Y/N wasn’t sure that it was best for Nat to be alone at such a time, but she let her have her personal time.
Hours later, Y/N was concerned that she had still not heard anything from Nat, so she went into her room, only to find no one there.
“Jarvis, where’s Tasha?” You ask worriedly.
“Miss Romanova has left the tower. She appears to be in a ballet studio Downtown.”
“Oh shit… how long ago did she leave?”
“Miss Romanova left the tower at 1 pm today.”
“Jarvis, send me the location of the ballet studio.”
“Yes, Miss Y/L/N. It has been sent.”
You look down at your phone, putting on navigation to the studio, and run off to the elevator.
After a few minutes, you park in front of a studio with blurred windows, but you only see one person inside.
Running off to the door, you walk in slowly, knowing you probably startled the redhead inside. She looks at you for a second before hiding her face away from you and continuing her “practice.”
“Hey baby, I need you to pause, okay?”
She just quietly continues dancing to the music of the silence in the room.
“Nat. I’m serious.”
She ignores you again.
“Natalia, stop,” you say in a low, stern voice.
She stops, slowly lowering her arms and leg from the position she’d been in, still refusing to face you. She lowers to the ground, rolling up in a ball and hiding her face in her legs.
You walk over to her, sitting down next to her. You hug her.
You speak, softer than before“Baby, you have been dancing for…” You check your phone, seeing the time being 5:04, “four hours now. You are hurting yourself. You don’t deserve to be punished, sweetheart. You aren’t there anymore. I’m here, okay?”
A quiet sob escapes her lips as she whispers, “I killed them…”
“No, you didn’t. You have never killed anybody on purpose, любов моя.”
She just keeps crying quietly for a bit.
You softly caress her foot and ask, “can I take them off?”
“Mhm” she mumbles out, sniffling quietly.
You slowly untie the ballet shoes, sliding them off her feet. Noticing how bloody her feet have gotten under her ballet shoes, you sigh in concern and open your little bag you carry around, finding the gauze and wrap, putting on the gauze on the worst places, and wrapping it up to secure it in place before softly massaging each foot, enough to make her feel a bit more relaxed, but not too much, careful not to hurt her.
“Baby, can you look at me, please?” You ask in a whisper.
She looks up, her reddened face wet from tears. You move your hand calmly up to her cheek, brushing away the last tear prickling down her beautiful face, and giving her a loving smile.
“I will always love you,” you whisper.
She looks at your eyes and smiles slightly, whispering back, “I love you too.”
You get up, reaching for her hand as you pull her up, hugging her. As you are hugging, you slowly start moving side to side, as she rests her head on your chest.
“Drop everything now…” you begin singing slowly, slower than the tempo of the actual song.
“Meet me in the pouring rain, kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain, ‘cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile,” you twirl her and continue dancing while looking at each other, “get me with those green eyes baby as the lights go down, give me something that’ll haunt me when you’re not around,” you boop her nose and she giggles, “cause I see sparks fly whenever you… smile,” you smile as you see her already smiling at you.
“Okay let’s go home now, okay? We don’t need your feet hurting even more. I love you, мое златно сърце.”
“I love you too, детка.”
(¯ ³¯)♡
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vibratingskull · 6 months
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Fake dating part 2
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I took @al-astakbar​‘s idea and run with it.
Resume : Alone on an strange planet with a little chiss girl you walk desesperatly trying to reach coordinates given by a beacon. Here you are saved by Grand Admiral Thrawn’s crew and he proposes you an incongruous solution to your problem...
You silently follow the Grand Admiral through the numerous corridors of his ship, it’s enough for you to lose your way you worry. There are so many paths and doors, it hurts your brain. You do your best to follow his long strides on the cold metal floor without shoes. You cross paths with some officers, they all stop on their track to salute their superior and then you feel their curious gaze on you, wondering who you might be and why you’re here, you quickly avert their gaze and lower your head in their presence, careful not to anger anyone. Apparently they are not used to seeing their Grand Admiral followed by someone with a slave collar, that thought is somewhat reassuring. You look at the back of the head of the man holding your life in his hands, detailing his height and imposing measurements. The tight fabric of his uniform does not hide his muscles and Makers know you want nothing to do with them. Those are his assets to kill… You shudder at this thought.
“Here we are.” He softly announces.
He engages himself in a corridor with a large bay window giving on to an operation room, and on the table is…
“Moarorou!” You shout, pressing yourself against the window.
“She is in good hands.” He simply says “I trust them to save her.”
Asleep and perfused, the little girl seems at peace while the droids operate her. You wish you could hold her hand.
“I want to be with her.” You ask, turning towards him.
“Out of the question, it is a sterilized room.” He flat out refuses, “You will see her once they are done.”
You lower your gaze and turn back to the little girl. Poor sweetheart… You feel a burning gaze on you and you don’t dare meet it.
“We should head towards the second room, you need treatment too.” 
You do? You’re so used to being beaten and bruised by now… But it is true, you have scars all over your arms and legs and a burnt wound on your flank.
You obediently follow him to a room where a droid greets you and guides you to an infirmary bed. As the Grand Admiral leaves to give you some intimacy, it proceeds to do a complete check up, from weighing you to blood test and mandatory vaccines after dressing your wounds. You mechanically obey the machine, too used to receiving orders, it would have asked you to shake hands like a dog you would have without asking any questions, this is how deep it is ingrained in you…
“Here.” says Grand Admiral Thrawn right behind you.
You jump out of your skin. When did he come back?
He hands you a pair of boots exactly your size. You take them, unsure. You didn’t have the right to own shoes as a slave, you forgot how it feels. You pass them on after thanking him. It feels like a second skin. Strangely you feel more confident with them. You thank him again.
“Do not mention it, I cannot have anyone walking bare feet in my ISD. Now, do not move.” He slides behind you and you feel him manipulating your shock collar.
He must check your number to verify their registers. You refrain from sighing, an imperial remains an imperial, whatever happens.
You hear a click.
And your collar falls on your lap. You look at it, dumbfounded.
“Sir?”
You thought he would have waited for your response and sold you back on the black market if you refused his offer…
“You thought I would not get rid of it?” he asks, seeing your confused expression.
“Well… no, not before I gave you my answer at least…” you explain.
“You brought me back a valuable person. Consider it the payment of my debt to you.” 
You massage your throat, touching it for the first time in years.
“You… you have the right to free someone?” you ask with a small voice.
“I am a Grand Admiral, little is forbidden to me.”
You accept his answer as a fact and don’t press the matter. You mask it but hope is flourishing in your stomach, after so many years… finally!
Karyn Faro enters the infirmary, saluting the Grand Admiral.
“Sir! You asked for me.” She asks in a strong and clear voice.
“Yes, I want you to guide our guest to her new quarters, I will go back to the bridge.” He orders
She nods and signifies to follow her and quicker than that. You hop on your feet and follow her in another maze of corridors, but you start to recognize the patterns, you’re less lost this time.
“There it is.” She opens a large door with a card that she hands you “Do not loose it.”
You enter the room, or rather the suite and stop, turning back to her.
“Are you sure this is the good room?” You wonder.
“Yes. Is there a problem?” 
Well it's… Big. You’re standing in a small living room with sofa and kitchenette, giving on a large bedroom and a privatized bathroom. You’re more used to the cell shared with several other slaves.
“No, it’s… it’s perfect. Thank you.” You bow to her.
She simply nods and goes back to her duty.
You walk into the living room, timidly, afraid to take too much space, to make too much noise, even though you’re alone. You find a remote on a table and press the buttons, curious. A part of the wall opens for a TV screen to appear, you press another one and music starts. Another one pushes a bar off the wall. Okay that’s too much. You tidy, close back the walls and cut the music, put the remote where you found it, like you never touch it and go see the bedroom. It is a large room with a double bed, a wardrobe, a big mirror and a bay window giving on space. The wardrobe is full you notice, with a safe hidden as a drawer. The bathroom is white and clean, with a bath and clean towels, you touch them, they are soft and fluffy. everything for maintaining basic hygiene is here. You can’t resist the urge to brush your teeth when you see the new toothbrush waiting for you. It feels so good and fresh! What a delicious sensation! 
Returning to the bedroom you notice a datapad on the bedside table. You take it and turn it on. You’re curious of that Grand Admiral Thrawn. You search the holonet about him, finding different biographies and videos of him at different ceremonies. An article of the Universal Encyclopedy informs you of his greatest victories and gives you a resume of his life, or at least his life since he appeared in the Empire. What you suspected was right, him and Moarorou aren’t from the Empire, but are from the Unknown Region. He accepted to answer interviews of journalists of the regime but consistently refused to answer anything about his life previous to the Empire. So you got an incomplete portrayal of the man. 
You don’t know much about military things, but his record seems impressive, victory after victory, promotion after promotion, from one medal to the other he seems to supplant any adversaries. Except on the political field. It appears each and everyone of his victories came with a political scandal. 
But he manages to get out of it everytime.
You reopen your eyes when you hear knocks on the door. You must have drifted to sleep without realizing it. You open the door to Faro, awaiting for you.
“The Grand Admiral awaits you for dinner.” She indicates with her strong voice.
You must have slept more than first anticipated, dinner already?
You nods hurriedly and close the door behind you. She looks at you up and down, clearly judging you but says nothing.
“This way, please.”
You walk in silence behind her but curiosity devours you.
“Is it in your prerogatives to take care of priso… of guests?” you dare ask.
“No.” That is all she answers.
“Oh… Then why you-”
“He orders and I obey, simple as that.” And like that, the conversation ends.
You don’t dare raise your voice anymore, and she’s not one to do small talk.
You reach a door with stormtroopers guarding it, she gives one of her cylinders-thing and they step to the side.
“Here.” She says, and left you here, alone with the guards.
The door open and you enter a large suite, rich with decors. The Grand Admiral is standing, hand clasped behind his back, observing something.
You don’t say a word, to not disturb him, fidgeting your fingers.
“Come closer.” He simply says, without even turning towards you.
You approach. He seems enthralled by some vase on a stand.
“What do you see?” he inquires
What? Is he asking you your opinion on how he decorates his chambers?
“A vase.” you answer neutrality.
Never give your opinion.
“And?”
You approach again, observing it more intently. It’s a terracotta of three complimentary colors, surely a wine carafe. It has fine details and some speck of gold sprinkled in the clay.
“Huh… Looks like a hutt jug.” You notice.
He slowly nod.
“Indeed. Can you see anything else?”
“That’s the kind of jug we find in their northern worlds, the south would have used metal. But outside of that…” You shrug, unknowingly.
“That is well.” He murmures. “Dinner is ready.” and he heads to the dressed table. 
He pulls a chair and gallantly invites you to take it, as you approach he looks you up and down. 
"You did not change clothes ?" He asks, puzzled. 
You could ? You do not touch what your masters don't need. 
"I thought the order was to come immediately." You explain 
"You could have taken the time to put on more comfortable clothes than this hospital pajamas. I would not have held it against you, you are my guest." 
Yes, you heard that. 
You sit down and he pushes your chair forward, like he would have done to a high Lady. The table smells deliciously good, making your mouth water with different types of salads and vegetables, a main course with fuming meat, rice and lentils and a bottle of wine. He opens it and serves you first, then himself. 
"Because I brought you someone important ?" You ask as he sits down. 
"Yes."
"And if I did not ?" 
"What do you mean ?" He inquires, cutting his meat.
"If you only found me, a slave alone in the forest, would I still be your guest ?" 
He looks into your eyes with a stern expression 
"Does it matter ?" 
"Yes." You try to control the shivers in your voice "It matters to me."
He doesn't respond, letting silence take place. 
"No. Probably not."
You sigh internally. You knew it. Under his gallant behavior and nice dispositions, he remains an Imperial. A slave trader. 
"Those hypotheses do not matter." He says camly, taking a bite of his dish "The fact is you came together, and you took care of her. I cannot let this good deed go unreward-"
Your stomach growls suddenly, a deep hollow sound. Deeply embarrassing. You flush immediately. 
"Why do you not eat ? Is it not to your taste ?" 
"No !" You hurriedly says "I just… Waited for your permission to eat" You confess
He raises an eyebrow. 
"This is an order you had to obey ?" 
You nod. 
"Those times are behind you." He designates the table filled to the brim, encouraging you.
You slowly serve yourself, a little of each, not too much and start eating delicately using table manners you've seen your masters use. 
He looks at you intently, like he would observe an animal behind bars. 
Your stomach growls again but you don't press yourself. 
"There is nobody to impress here, eat as you please." He says casually.
You look at him to see if he's serious. 
Then you dive on the meat, with your hands you bite into it hungrily, tearing it apart, getting back from years of malnutrition. 
Maker this is so good ! It has been years since you had meat. You gulp it down feverishly, licking the sauce off your fingers, growling with satisfaction. 
He looks at you, caressing his chin. 
You stop. 
"Too much ?" You ask embarrassed, sauce dripping from your chin
 "Everything is well." He shakes his head. "Like I said, those times are behind you. Let's focus on the future."
You listen, munching down your meat with lentils. 
"About this offer I made, you might want to know what it entails." 
You nod, mouth full. 
"You would hold the role of the wife of a Grand Admiral, it comes with some… Obligations. You will need to escort me to galas, ceremonies, spending time with high ranked rich people and pretend you are from the same world. Adopt their codes and customs, abide by their rules. Everywhere you will go you will represent me and all I stand for, your failures will be mine. We will make you a proper high standing lady and need to get your education right as Moarorou's, we will train her and care for her like true parents. There will be a lot of stress and pressure."
"Until we sent her back ?" 
"Indeed." He nods
"And after ?" 
"After you will be free, you could live your life as you want." 
"And if I refuse ?" 
"Then we will disembark you from the ship on a nearby planet with some money and your new life will start that day." 
You slowly nod, wiping your mouth with a napkin. 
"And Moarorou ?" 
"She will need to remain hidden on the Chimaera, alone in a cabin with only droids or complete strangers she can't communicate with to care for her. It would be an oppressive and uncaring environment for a child her age. If you accept, she will get to have two parental figures and a proper education you would take part into, you could use my apartment on Coruscant and offer her, and yourself a better lifestyle."
"For a time…"
"For a time" He concedes
"Why not simply send her to Coruscant ?" 
"I cannot send her alone in this black vipers nest."
"Why? You speak of her so highly, is she some kind of Royalty in your world ?" 
He smiles enigmatically 
"She is so much more valuable than Royalty."
It doesn't advance you. He rises from his seat. 
"Sleep, and tell me your answer tomorrow. The choice is yours."
You follow him to the door, hiding a burp behind your hand. You eat too much. 
"You said I could see her!" if he thought you would forget that…
"Once she wakes up from the operation, you will be free to see her."
He politely escorts you back to your room. You don’t say a thing but you you’re tremendously disappointed, you hoped to Moarorou right after dinner.
“Is there something wrong?” He suddenly asks, stopping in his track.
“No… No.” you lie. 
You castigate yourself. ‘Hide what you think, hide what you feel. Do not let them see.’
He shrugs and continues.
"I wish you good night." He greets you and disappears. 
You spend the night tossing and turning in those fresh clean sheets. Questions assault your mind, and memory of the crash alike. 
What to do ? What to do ? 
Remaining with him could give you protection against your masters, but remaining with an Imperial ? 
Could you do it? Close your eyes on all the atrocities he will commit ? 
But you can't leave Moarorou alone with him. She trusts you. You can't abandon her… 
You sigh. 
In the morning you pass on decent attire. You wince, there are only dresses. You take the most concealing one and walk directly to the Grand Admiral's office. It seems like he's at work for several hours already. 
You inhale deeply, gathering your courage.
"I accept" 
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@thrawnspetgoose
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blue
pairing: Max Verstappen x reader
warnings: hurting, brief mention of depression, toxicity, no happy ending  
summary: blue is the color of waves, water and the ocean, and Max and you are both drowning.
notes: feel free to leave comments and/or feedback. likes and reblogs are always appreciated! also, feel free to send in requests!
disclaimer: English is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes 😊
word count: 5.6k
you are an ocean
a wild and wide ocean
and here i am
falling in
drowning in the depths
of who you really are
2023, late summer
You have not seen him in person for almost a year. You sit on a bench by the beach, where you have met in the best and worst times of your lives. The sand under is feet is softly crunching as he walks over to you. You know it is him by the way he walks. It is strange how the brain remembers, you think before he comes to a halt next to you. “Hey”, he says softly and sits down next to you. A couple of years ago he would have pulled you in a hug, a couple of months ago he would have pulled you in for a kiss. Today, he does neither. Above you, the sky is greyish blue, before you the ocean is dark blue. The sky is grey today - It is a stormy but beautiful day. Waves are crashing onto the shore; seagulls are squawking in the distance and neither of you says anything.
“It might rain later today”, you say, simply because you don’t know what else to say. He just nods. “How are you?”, you try again a few minutes later. “I am okay.” You shoot him a look and he lets out a dry chuckle. “No, really. I think I am truly okay this time. I am working on myself, who knows, in a few months I might even be more than okay.” You smile, and it is genuine. “I would love that for you”, you tell him, and you mean it. It hasn’t felt like this with him since quite some time, maybe, if you think about it, it never felt like that with him.
“How are you?” You sigh. “I think this is the first time I have felt like this in a long time.” “Like what?”, he asks you. “I cannot get over you, and to be honest, I don’t think I ever will. I don’t know if I want to at all. But, in the last months, for the first time since I have met you, I stopped missing your presence in my life.”
He swallows hard. “That is a good thing, I guess.” “For you at least”, he thinks to himself. “I love that for you”, he says, and he hopes he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels. You just smile, so he thinks maybe you haven’t noticed. You sit there in silence; it is neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It just exists, its everchanging, and all the same to him. His mind drifts to different times.
2015, summer
You are barely out of high school. It is the first summer after your graduation, you feel wild and free and happy. He is only barely older than you, not more than a year. You had met him at your graduation party, where he celebrated his younger sister. However, he didn’t pay much attention to her that day, rather talked to you the entire night. For him, it was love at the first sight, for you as well. He had asked for your number, and then for a date, and here you are.
Today, a slight wind is blowing, ruffling through your hair. It is summer, but the air is chilly and the sky not as blue as it is supposed be during these months. He cannot stop watching as you walk through the sand, your shoes in your hands and your hair all over the place. You turn around and look at him. He should feel caught, but he doesn’t. You watch him and under your gaze he shivers a bit. Then, you smile and his heart fills.
The sound of crashing waves fills the air, and for a moment you close your eyes. When you open them and look at him, you cannot help but notice the glimmer. His blue eyes are littered with little darker droplets, and they look like the waves in front of you. The two of you share a connection that feels magical, as if you've known each other for much longer than just a few weeks.
You walk over to a bench and sit down to watch the ocean. He feels like he is invincible, his life is better than good. He is an amazing race driver, the people call him a prodigy, and here he is, with a beautiful girl in his arms. His blue eyes stare at you while you look at the ocean, the waves slowly crashing onto the shore. He thinks he loves you. He doesn’t think he has ever felt this sure about something before.
2016, spring
Life is complicated, he is jet setting around the world, and you are studying at a university overseas. Your love is simple, though. Both of you are committed to make it work, and it does, somehow. Both of you are very young as well and your relationship is still new as well. But you want to see where it goes with the two of you. You talk almost every day, he sends you postcards from all around the world – you keep all of them in a box, they are your most prized possessions. You watch his races whenever you can, even though it means waking up in the middle of the night. He flies out to you whenever he can, you rarely visit him enough. He wants to protect you from the media, at least for now.
2016, early fall
“I cannot do this anymore!” you tell him. It is half a year later, and the honeymoon phase seems to be over. You never see him anymore, and when you see him, it doesn’t feel the same anymore. He is different now, more famous and people are drawn to him like a magnet. And he doesn’t tell them to stay away, even when he is with you. They draw him in just like he used to draw you in. He goes on so many parties, he changes, he is not the person you used to know.
The two of you fight more, and because you are still so very young, you don’t know how to communicate in your anger. You fight and you hurt each other, then you make up. It is draining, and you find yourself at the same point every other week. So, you decide to break up with him when you visit him the next time. And you do, and he doesn’t really say anything, he just listens and then lets you go. Your eyes beg him to keep you from going, to stop you from leaving, but he does neither and so you are leaving.
In between Christmas 2016 and the first days of 2017
The two of you are caught in a dangerous circle. Christmas is the time to reconcile and to forgive, so you text him “Merry Christmas” and it seems like he has waited for that opportunity. He asks how you are, and if you would be home for the vacation. You tell him that you are feeling okay, and that you are home. You tell him that you don’t think that meeting is a good idea. He does agree, in the end.
However, the city both of your families live in isn’t that big after all, so running into each other is almost inevitable. It is only half bad when both of you are Christmas shopping with your mothers. You exchange a few courtesies, some longing glances, and unsure smiles, and then you are off into different directions.
It is dangerous however, when the two of you meet on one of the dance floors of the clubs. There, alcohol is involved and your silent longing for each other crashes over you like waves whenever the two of you are drinking. Before you count to three, the two of you are making out in the bathroom of some club, consumed by love, hope, and desire. It happens more than once, and you feel terrible after every time. Yet you feel hopeful that you might be able to make it work, somehow.
By the end of the holidays, you need to go back abroad, and he needs to go back to racing, and you haven’t talked about what happened over the holidays. It might be better this way, but it kills a part of you. You know that he isn’t good for you, you know that this will end in a heartbreak, but you cannot stop thinking about him. He still texts every once in a while and you call him when you are drunk. He tells you that he loves you and you slur the same on the phone, but neither of you make the decision to get back together.
2017, spring
“I hope someday I will make it out of here”, you say and look at the ocean, “I hope one day I can forget everything I think I know about love, even if that means forgetting us, forgetting you.” The two of you are just about to begin the second decade of your life, you feel like you are on top of the world, like you can achieve everything. At the same time, a simple heartbreak feels like the end of the world. Or maybe it wasn’t a simple heartbreak, maybe this thing with Max was more.
It’s a warm spring day, you wear a light blue dress that gently moves with the wind. You look like an ethereal being, Max thinks, when you stand a few meters away from him, your lower calves are being caressed by the water. He wishes that was him touching you like that.  
You make a promise that day you would stay away each other for good. No more late-night calls when you were drunk, no more texting, even if it just to ask how the other person is doing. You want to treat each other like one would treat an addiction – by going into cold withdrawal. Both of you know that it wasn’t going to be easy, but none of you would have thought that it was going to be this hard.
2018, early in the year
A year later you agreed that you belonged together. It was quiet confession whispered into the darkness of a hotel room somewhere on this planet, and it felt like the two of you were the only people in the whole wide world. You had gone back to one another, relapsing despite both knowing that it would possibly end in disaster. But right now, it doesn’t feel like a disaster, it feels like the beginning of something beautiful. Together you can conquer the world, together you will manage to cross every ocean.
Your skin shines almost blue under the fluorescent light of the big city, the sheets white and clean and innocent. You are asleep and he holds you close to his chest, and it feels like this will last forever. At least he hopes so, he really does. The cityscape outside the window twinkles with bright lights, casting a vibrant glow into the room as you sleep peacefully in his arms. He holds you gently, feeling the rise and fall of your breath against his chest. In this moment, time stands still, and he allows himself to bask in the sheer bliss of your presence.
As the morning sun begins to filter through the curtains, painting the room in a warm, golden hue, he watches you stir awake. Your eyes flutter open, and a soft smile graces your lips as you meet his gaze. His eyes seem bluer than ever before under the soft light of this cold morning. Amidst the chaos of tangled sheets and limbs, he whispers to you, reaffirming his commitment to you. He kisses you with all he has in the hopes that this is enough to keep you with him, for now at least.
2018, winter
You smile at him, tears shimmering in your eyes. They don’t fall yet; they just get caught in your eyelashes. You are once again trapped in the same cycle of fighting and making up once that has brought you to your knees before. On top of that, you are struggling with yourself and him being away all the time. Your cold fingers are wrapped around the to go cup of some coffee place. You take a deep, shaking breath.
“Some days I just hate myself so much, that it almost paralyses me”, you say, a pained expression written across your face. He pulls you against his chest, where you take another shaking breath before you start to cry quietly. “Don’t hate yourself”, he tells you, “You are better than everyone else.”
Your quiet cries turn into sobs at his words. When you free yourself out of his grasp, you look at him and he is scared by how empty your eyes are. “I feel so, so terribly that I have even fooled you to think more of me than I am truly.” He shakes his head. “Stop!”, he tries to tell you, but it is like he is talking to a wall. “I cannot lose you”, he begs and now you shake your head. “I am sorry, but I am no good for you like this. I am in pain, and I need to heal. I need to heal for myself and not by relying on you.”
He gets a bit angry now, you can feel it. “But that is what a relationship is for, to rely on each other and help each other as much as possible!” You scoff. “It should be, but how is that supposed to work, Max? You are never here!” “You know that is not a fair argument, I have no other choice! But you on the other hand, you could come with me all the time, if you weren’t so –“, he stops himself. You take a step back to get a bit of distance between you and him. “If I wasn’t so what, Max? Stubborn? Selfish?” He rolls his eyes. “Now you are just putting words into my mouth! I don’t know what I was going to say!”
You scoff again. “Do you think I am stupid?” “No, but I think that you are selfish because you don’t want to come with me even though you have the time! I think that you are picking a fight over nothing right now because you don’t like the way your life is right now! And I think that you are overreacting, and that you are not really feeling that terrible!” He is really angry now, his eyes cold and his cheeks red. Your expression is almost blank. “Are you done?” He nods. “Good, because we are done!” You turn around and leave.
2019, spring
You haven’t heard from him for a few months. From his Instagram you can tell that he is out partying a lot. It can mean that he is over you, or that he is drinking his sorrows away. You find that it doesn’t bother you as much as it used to. You have made new friends, and you found a job that makes you happy. You would claim to be over him, but you that would be a lie. You keep busy and occupy and don’t think about him as much anymore, what makes it all a bit easier.
Today, you arrive at home later than usual after an evening at the bar with your new colleagues. There is one of them you particularly like, he is really kind and even walked you home. You almost asked him to come up with him, but it is too early for that, you tell yourself. Closing the door to your apartment behind you, you take off your shoes when someone rings the doorbell.
You open, almost entirely sure it will be your colleague. When you look up, your gaze meets his blue eyes, and you almost close the door in his face. Only almost. He looks terrible, tired, and exhausted. “What do you want?” “Please,” he murmurs. “Please, let me love you.” His eyes search yours for any kind of answer, lips quivering. You don’t know what to say. He stands in front of your door and in all those years you have never seen him looking so lost.
“My life only makes sense when I am with you. When you are not there, I don’t know what to do with myself.” You let him and that night both while his wounds heal with every touch, every kiss you share, your wounds rip open with every caress and yet it feels exactly right.
2019, early summer
After that night you don’t talk to each other for a few months. One day, you run into each other at the market when you are out with your colleague, who is your boyfriend now. Max feels nauseous when he sees how happy you are with another man by your side. He wants to leave, but then you see him and like you want to rub your happiness into his face, you walk over to him. He plasters a fake smile onto his face and greets you.
“Max, meet John, my boyfriend!” John shakes his hand, seemingly excited. “Babe, you never told me that you knew the infamous Max Verstappen!” Max smiles again, it is crooked and doesn’t reach his eyes. “We used to date, actually!” You giggle, it is a bit shrill and so not like you, Max thinks. “That was a long time ago! Anyway, it was nice to see you again, Max!”
2019, fall
Neither of you know why, but the two of you get into contact again after that run-in. You tell each other about your lives and your struggles and confine in each other once again. You meet up for dinner occasionally, and you never tell John that you are meeting Max. You tell yourself it is because you don’t want to start an argument, but the truth is that you know that this is more than a simple dinner between friends.
Today is one of these days. John thinks you are out with your girlfriends, but you are sitting in the booth of some fancy restaurant. Until now, everything had gone smoothly. But now, you give Max a disappointed look. “What do you have against him?”, you sigh. Max had just made fun of John. He is silent for a minute, seemingly finding the right words. “He has everything I will never have”. You don’t have an answer for that, so you wipe your mouth with the blue napkin. Strangely enough, it has the same color as the dress you are wearing. Afterwards you fold it on your plate, neatly. “I think I have to go.”
“Yeah, of course”, he scoffs, “You always do that.” “Do what?” “You keep me close; you make me crawl back to you when you are alone. And then, when you have me at that spot, you find someone else to give your love to. And here I am once again, spilling my feelings to you, and you leave.” Now it’s your time to scoff. “This is the problem; you give me tiny pieces like this and call it spilling your feelings.” He stays silent. “You are just angry that I moved on before you did.” You get up and carelessly throw a few bills on the table. Then, you leave without another word.
He thinks that he has every right to be angry, because just a few months ago you had told that you had to find yourself before you anything else. But maybe you were just too kind to tell him that you had to find yourself without him. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself, when he knows that this is all that matters. What he doesn’t know is that you never truly moved on. You were with John because he distracted you from Max, and he made you feel like you were worthy of love. But all you wanted was for Max and you to be together again.
2019, summer
It is a warm summer night where he lives. The days are so long now that the sky doesn’t turn dark at night, rather it is colored in a deep shade of blue. The phone rings and disturbs the comfortable silence of his balcony. He puts his glass of wine down, and when he sees your name on the screen, his finger lingers above the “decline” button for a while. Then, he decides to pick up.
“Yes?” “I am sorry”, you slur, “I didn’t know who else to call.” He sighs. “You have a boyfriend, no?” He can hear that you take a shaky breath, and he knows that he has said the wrong thing. “He left me here by myself. I am alone and scared and I am sorry I called you, but I really didn’t know who else to call”, you say, and he can hear that you must be crying. “Where are you?”, he asks and gathers his things, “I will come and get you.” “Thank you”, you tell him, “Please drive safely.” He wants to hang up, but you say another sentence that makes him stop in his tracks for a second. “And Max? I might have a boyfriend, but he isn’t you. And he will never be you.”
When he finds you, you sit on a bench, bottle of water in your hand. The fresh air and the liquid have sobered you up. You look miserable, but he still thinks that you are beautiful in a strange sense. Your hair is pulled up into a messy bun and your sparkly blue dress clings to you. You carry your shoes in your hand when you get into the car. “Thank you”, you say, voice quiet. “Do you want me to take you to your place, or”, he takes a deep breath, “do you want to come to mine?” You don’t hesitate when you answer him, and it makes him regret the offer less. “Yours, if you really don’t mind.”
He does not mind, obviously. He could never mind you, really. You might broke his heart before, you might were going to do again, but he doesn’t care. He would do it all again for you, the heartbreak, the pain, if it meant another chance, another chapter written together with you. “About what I said before I hung up – “, you start, and he interrupts you. “No need to explain”, he says, “No hard feelings-“ “I mean it”, you say and his heart jumps in his chest. “You mean the world to me, Max. You always have and I think you always will.”
When you arrive at his place, you barely make it out of the car before his lips are on yours and you are once again drowning. He makes love to you that night for a long time, and afterwards you fall asleep in his arms. He tells you that he loves you, and you tell him that you love him. For one night, everything is okay and good. You both indulge in the notion of what is, what could have been, what might be. The next morning, you leave before he wakes up.
2019, fall
A few weeks later, he shows up at your door in the middle of the night. “I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I came here”, he says, and you let him into your apartment and into your arms without thinking twice. “I feel like I am drowning”, he tells you and you cannot help it, but your heart breaks a bit. “Everyone tells me I should be so happy, I am achieving what so few have achieved before me, but I couldn’t care less. All I want is to be worthy of your love, all I want is for you to love me. I want to be with you, I want to be what you deserve.” “Oh Max”, you say and rake your fingers through his hair. His head is resting in your lap, he holds onto you like you are his lifeline. “You are more than I will ever deserve.”
“And Max?”, you take a shaking breath, “You do not need to long for my love, you already have it all.” He sits up now, looking at you with his blue eyes. Currently, there is a storm of emotions present in them, and you want to look away, but his gaze holds you hostage. He gently leans forward and places a kiss to your slightly parted lips. Your body reacts on instinct, kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his neck.
2020, summer
You are happy, truly. Max and you are better together than you have ever been before. All is well and all is good. Being with him doesn’t hurt like it used to, it heals you. Both of you have become better people, better partners, you are both trying hard, and it works. Sometimes, people deserve a few more chances than just two, you think as you watch Max walking towards the water.
You are spending a calm weekend in a house by the beach. The ocean is blue, the sky is even bluer, not a single cloud is visible. You think of all the good memories you have made with him, and it seems like you never had bad phases. You know that is far from the truth, but right now it feels like all the pain and hurt was worth it, because it all worked out in the end.
Max disrupts your trail of thought when he sits down next to you. “Hello, my love”, he says, and you smile up to him. You sit up to take a better look at him, bathing in his present. “I found something down there by the water, wanna see?” You nod, and he pulls out a little box. You are confused for a moment, until he opens it, and a beautiful ring is inside. “Oh my god, Max!”, you breathe out. “When I saw you for the first time, it was like I was walking into the ocean. The water was only gently caressing up my calves, but I wanted to dive in further and further. That night you were wearing a blue dress and you drew me in like the tidal waves. Every day I spent with you, I am falling in love more and more. You are beautiful and strong and powerful like the ocean, and I want to spend my forever with you. Do you want to marry me?”
2021, summer
It has been almost a year since he had asked you to marry you. For the remainder of 2020 everything had been better than well, but around the New Year, the two of you seemed to have taken the wrong path once again. You fell back into old habits, you fought more. Now, it is summer once again and this time, he decides that he cannot do it anymore. He tells you that you have become too much for him, that you are drowning him and that he cannot take it anymore. You don’t argue, you are happy that it is over. You leave him and move away, somewhere closer to the ocean.
2021, winter
It is a cold day. He sits by the usual spot on the beach by the water, two cups of hot coffee in his hands. You walk up behind him, sitting down next to him. “I am sorry I am late”, you say and acknowledges your apology with a nod. He holds a cup in your direction, you reach for it with blue gloves covering your hands.
“You look tired, exhausted”, he notices, and you chuckle. “Because I am!”, you answer, and he cocks an eyebrow. “Because the last months were rough. Because getting over you was the hardest thing I ever had to do.” “It doesn’t have to be like that”, he says – it slips before he can stop himself. He knows saying that isn’t really fair, after all he had been the one to end it this time. You shake your head, and he can tell that you are annoyed.
“Coming here was a mistake”, you say, “We need to stay apart, we cannot keep coming back to each other!” He wants to protest, but he knows that you are right. “I am sorry I asked you to meet.” You nod, grab your back and get ready to leave. Before you make your way home, you pull out a little box out of your pocket. “I still need to give this back to you”, you say and hand him the ring and then you leave.
When you are gone, he feels empty and angry. He regrets breaking up with you every day, but he is too proud to admit that to you or anyone else. He loves you so much that some days it feels like it is killing him. But he cannot do anything about it. He is too proud and too stubborn to crawl back to you, and his rational mind knows that it would ultimately end in another heartbreak.
2023, late summer
Now, a couple of years later he almost says out loud that you should’ve really stayed away then. It would have spared both of you a lot of heartbreak. But it would have also robbed you of many great moments together, moments were he felt like life was perfect and that he would never find a love like this again. But then, he thinks that he will never find a love like this again regardless. You are all he ever wanted, and all he ever needed. He cannot explain while he simply wasn’t able to keep you with him, while the two of you kept on slipping away, only to find your way back to each other after some time.
He thinks that maybe the two of you are like the ocean and the beach and the tidal waves. You are pulled towards each other by a strong force, but you also seem to never be able to stay with each other. He catches himself thinking that he wants to turn back time, but to what moment exactly?
The danger that he would find myself in one of the bad moments is way too likely. He thinks that instead it is for the best that he just accepts that this is and should be a final goodbye. That doesn’t mean that he won´t think about you every single day for the rest of his life, he doesn’t mean that he will ever get over you, but it means that he is okay with losing you now. It is for the best for him, and for you. And all he ever wanted and all he ever will want, is the best for you, even though that might not always have been obvious.
2022, early summer
You decide to give each other one last chance and he is determined to make sure that neither of you will regret it this time. You are hopeful, you are certain that the two of you could make it work, especially after your last chance even included engagement. He gives you back the ring in the very first week after you decide to get back together, so you are once again engaged. He carries you on his hands, and you try everything to give your all for each other. He wants to make it work; he wants all the best for you. He treats you like a queen; he buys you present and supports you the best he can. He does everything in his power to make you happy and be the partner you deserve.
The end of 2022
It does work for a good while. But somehow, neither of you can abstain of some old habits. You know each other too well, and that makes hurting each other a lot easier. Too easy if you think about it. You know it shouldn’t be this easy to hurt each other, but maybe you finally need to see the truth for what it is: the two of you might be made for each other, but maybe that is why it didn’t work. Amidst the perfection, there is boredom and the longing for more, which neither of you can explain. But it makes you challenge the relationship and each other.
2023, late summer
“Promise me, that we will wait for each other”, you murmur in the crook of his neck when you are saying goodbye to each other. “I promise”, he says and gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead. You free yourself from the hug, but he feels like you have just freed yourself from him, from them. He knows this is goodbye, no matter how much he doesn’t want this to happen. It is better for him, he tells himself, but it doesn’t work. It is better for you; he tells himself and somehow that works. He knows he must let you go for good, so that you have the chance to find a life, a purpose, besides this.
You walk away through the sand and before you are gone forever, he has to say a few more words. “Wait for me, will you?” You turn around to look at him one last time. You smile, but he can see that you hold back a few tears. “As promised”, you say and nod. Then you turn away and leave. He is left behind, looking at the ocean. Violent waves are crashing onto the shore and that doesn’t reflect his feelings. He is sad, but he is at peace as well. He stays five minutes longer and then he leaves as well.
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potol0ver · 1 year
Text
Comfort
Erik deslter (phantom of the opera) x GN reader with childhood trauma
I don’t know how long this’ll be I just have the thought in my mind and I want to write it.
Warnings; mentions of childhood trauma, night terrors
~
Waking up in fight or flight mode isn’t exactly the best way to wake up. Slowly sitting up and looking over at a clock in your room, you can see it’s the dead of night. Sighing to yourself you move so your back is in the corner of your bed and bring your knees up to your chest to hug them. You need to calm down, you need to remind yourself you’re not there anymore, but the fear in your chest just won’t go away.
You don’t know how long it’s been when you stare at the floor, your hearing going haywire. It almost feeling like you’re a statue, you’re paralyzed. After a long while your body finally gives you mobility again, you can’t let this overload you again, you have to be around someone. Thankfully your lover is most likely awake at this hour composing music. Your mind going on autopilot didn’t even bother to put on shoes as you find the nearest catacombs entrance and make your way to him.
The rocks at your feet help a little getting you to remember where you are, you stare at the floor the whole way to his layer, almost like you’re sleep walking. Erik heard you long before he even saw you and he paused writing his music. Concerned you’re up this late, he looked down the pathway you’re taking and sees you looking like a zombie. Now very worried he practically runs up to you and cups your cheek.
“Mon amour? What’s going on?” Erik says with soft eyes. You say nothing, your voice hasn’t come back to you yet. Instead you just grip onto the hand holding your cheek. Leaning into it you can’t help but feel tears start to well. Erik noticed this and was stunned, he has never seen you cry before.
Snapping out of it he swoops you up and walks back into his layer, sitting on his bed. Your legs draped over his, your face buried in his neck crying your heart out, and your arms that we're hanging onto him for dear life. It all broke his heart.
“Mon amour,” he whispered as he cradled you in his arms. “Je t’aime, please tell me what's wrong. Who caused these tears?” kissing your shoulder, your tears start to calm down letting you speak.
“It's childish really,” you say lifting your head to meet his eyes, “this is all because of a silly nightmare.” you chuckle to yourself about how ridiculous this reason was to you. To Erik, this only made him more worried. You have never broken down like this in all the time he's known you, and for a ‘silly’ nightmare this doesn't seem childish, only very concerning.
“If it is making you weep Id say it isn't silly or childish,” he says bringing a gloved hand to your face and wiping tears off your cheek. “May I ask what it was about?” Eriks' voice was so sweet, so calming, you couldn’t hide the truth.
With a deep sigh you answered, “it was about my childhood,” adverting your eyes from his, you stare at the velvet bedsheets, “it wasn’t the happiest mon amour.” Leaning into his neck again you pleaded witha broken voice, “please let me stay, I don't want to be alone.”
Now, it's Eriks' turn to cry. His eyes became blurry as you clung to him again, your pleading words broke his heart. Never in a million years did he wish for you to have a similar life as him, especially cruelty. He gently leaned back on the bed and made sure both of you were relaxed. He started rubbing your back and whispered praise and comforting words into your hair.
“You’re here mon amour, you’re safe, no one will hurt you, not as long as I’m here. Je t’aime.”
When your breath finally calmed, you kissed his neck as a thank you. Shuddering slightly, he meets your gaze. “If you ever want to talk about it, please share with me. I don’t doubt you already assumed I also have a bad childhood, that is true. So I would not mind listening to you.” Erik said with a half smile.
“Thank you mon ange, maybe in the morning, for right now I think its best we both sleep.” You nestle your head back into his shoulder, and release a deep sigh. He kissed the top of your head and whispered good night.
“I love you Erik”
“Je t’aime, mon amour, je t’aime”
The last thought Erik had as you two drifted to sleep, was maybe you two were more alike than it seemed.
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notyour-valentine · 1 year
Note
Congrats for the 1k love!💗 I was thinking a 21 for John boy perhaps? (From the prompt list)
A Fool's Kisses ~ John Shelby x Reader (Fluff)
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[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]
Warning: Mention of sex(18/21+). I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.
Words: 910 words
The order of the day was “Behave yourselves!”, uttered in a snarl without more than a glance. 
That meant, in the world of Tommy Shelby, speak as little as possible, smile sweetly, don’t fight, don’t talk about the road, don’t read palms, don’t drink, don’t smoke indoors, don’t do any snow, don’t start fights, don’t join fights, don’t argue even if you are insulted, just play dumb and smile. 
It was framed as a dinner but in truth it was nothing but a pageant show, a piece of theatre which might as well have been called: “I, Mr. Thomas Shelby, am respectable” in three acts. 
The scenery was elegantly laid with nothing but the best champagne, food, drink and even flowers money could buy. 
And the leading man was dressed in a perfectly tailored dinner jacket, freshly ordered. 
He had rehearsed his lines to perfection and insisted they play their part expertly. 
So to avoid saying something wrong, she decided to say nothing at all, instead sticking to standing behind Polly and smiling, a drink in hand. 
It wasn’t like she was good at any of this. 
She was not in the business of impressing people but unfortunately for her, Tommy’s business partners wished to be impressed. 
And family business meant she had to show up, no matter how much she hated it. 
So when Polly deserted her, she barely made it five minutes before ducking and hiding behind a pillar. She had nothing to say to these people, at least nothing they wanted to hear. 
Besides, her shoes were already hurting her feet - she should have taken the time to walk them in but walk them in where? 
The last few days she had been about the horses and stables. That didn’t seem like an awfully good idea for her brand new pale pink heeled shoes. 
They had looked pretty, but she should have known that the devil was beautiful and now the abused flesh of her feet were reminding her of that with every single second. Leaning her head against the cold stone she closed her eyes and sighed, letting the dull murmur of the conversations in the room wash over her, the empty words and false courtesies, the fake smiles and backhanded compliments. 
“Now, pray tell, what is a young lady such as yourself doing all on her own at a splendid occasion as this?”
Every word was dripping with the accent of these people to the point it was almost unrecognisable. Almost. 
Her eyes snapped open as she stared at him in disgust. 
John was grinning from ear to ear as he leaned against the pillar with his shoulder. 
“Surely you ought to be out there entertaining our esteemed guests.”
“Fuck off.”, she hissed. “And talk normally.”
Not like them. 
Instead of obeying her first request, he positioned himself right in front of her, trapping her between he cold pillar and his body, radiating warmth. 
“What?”, she asked. 
John came so close that their foreheads almost brushed. 
“Now, we should go out there and support Tommy, show face, prove how respectable we are…”
His grin made you smile even if you didn’t want to. 
“Or we go someplace else and do something far less respectable.”
Biting her bottom lip, she glanced up at him, already seeing his own eyes darken. 
“Far less respectable? Now what could that possibly be? After all, we should be out there entertaining.”
A glint shimmered in his blue eyes as he came closer still. Then he chuckled to himself. 
One trait of John’s she particularly adored was that he always laughed at his own jokes even before telling them. 
He was meant for laughter, to show it, to share it and to spread it. She watched him purse his lips, still grinning, before he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. 
It was her weak point, he knew, so it was twice as mean of him to switch back to that ghastly accent. 
“Well, my dear, I had hoped you would have joined me for some perfectly unrespectable good old fashioned rumpy pumpy in the billiard room.”
She pushed him off her with both hands. 
“No, no, absolutely not!”, she insisted, hearing him laugh. “Oh don’t be like that, love!”, he argued, stopping her attempted flight by wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against him. “Don’t!”, she warned. “You had your chance and you ruined it saying that.”
Rumpy pumpy. She couldn’t believe he had actually said that. 
“Saying what? R-”
“Say it again and I won’t touch you for a month!”, she warned. 
Still chuckling, John’s one hand left her waist and travelled down to her lip as he pressed a kiss to her neck. 
“I thought you liked my impressions, my accents.”
“Not when they make you say things like that, John!”, she insisted, but she could feel his grin against her soft skin and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. 
It never worked with him. 
What had her grandmother said - Never let a fool kiss you. 
It was a perilous road. 
If the lips that coaxed laughter of your own also began to claim your kisses, she had warned, all was lost. 
And it had been for her. 
No, she agreed, with a smile on her lips as she turned to face him. 
Never let a fool kiss you, or you might find yourself in love with them. 
End.
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Thank you so much for that request and for your kind comment. I am especially grateful that you chose to talk to me despite it being something you don't normally do. I feel honoured! I hope you enjoyed it even if it was a little different than the other stories.
Taglist
Overall
@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @alex-in-the-wilderness @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989
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spice-olympus · 7 months
Text
This Overwhelming Feeling of Joy
Summary: My interpretation of Hades and Persephone's wedding night, past the fade-to-black. Loving married sex, some height difference technicalities, and a lot of laughing in bed.
Content Warnings: brief mention of past sexual trauma, size difference
Rated: E (18+ Only, Please!) / Read It On AO3 Here!
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Persephone all but collapses onto the couch when they reach their room, giggling in spite of herself from the pure unreality of the last twenty-four hours. The early morning light of Olympus is coming through the wide windows, but Persephone’s body is still buzzing with excitement. She’s already running over memories of her wedding day as she watches Hades cross the room to pick up the telephone and order them beverages. Eros dancing with her, spinning her until she was dizzy: Hera’s smile as she congratulated them: Hades’s whispered vow, the words crawling up the nape of her neck before his public words of love and support.
“Thanks,” Persephone says when Hades hangs up the phone. Her throat hurts from singing and laughing and crying, and hot tea sounds like just the right thing. Her husband (!!!) comes to kneel beside her, his hair in disarray from a night full of celebration. He’s even more beautiful like this, in the dim morning light, the same giddy disbelief on his face.
“I’m still so wired, but so tired at the same time.” Persephone gets a foot out from under the many layers of her wedding dress and Hades accepts it with both hands, his skin always so cool against Persephone’s. “My feet hurt from dancing.” Hades slips off her shoe, one finger running along her heel.
“Did you like the party?” He sounds almost nervous, as if he couldn’t tell that Persephone was having the best night of her life.
“Yes, it was perfect.” Persephone grins over the ruffled layers of her skirt. Her shoe looks like a doll’s toy in Hades’s hand, his fingers easily wrapping around it. It takes her a moment to see just how unsettled he looks by his own question, and the uncertainty on his face hasn’t been dispelled by her answer. His eyes are still on her foot, and he doesn’t look up at her to meet her eyes.
Persephone pushes herself up, fighting against the dress to get closer to Hades. “Please don’t overthink it,” she says, pleading.
“Didn’t I stop you from ‘doing all the things’?” Hades asks, still looking to one side.
“Hades look at me,” Persephone says, and his eyes snap up obediently. “If I did not want to marry you, we wouldn’t be sitting here. Got it?”
“Loud and clear.” Hades’s shoulders finally drop from their anxious arch, and Persephone smiles, relaxing back against the arm of the couch.
“And we can still do all those things. They’ll just be even better because you’re my husband now.”
“I like the sound of that.” Hades playfully scoops up Persephone’s bare foot and presses a kiss to the ball of her foot, right where the ache of dancing has settled. Persephone closes her eyes to enjoy the feeling of his attention.
“There’s only one problem,” she says, hiding her smile as she unhooks the garter belt under her skirts and pushes her stocking partway down.
“And what is that?” Hades asks, clearly picking up on her mood as he gets to his feet and pulls her stocking the rest of the way off. Persephone wiggles her toes, finally free from all their layers, then pushes her dress down so she can roll onto her stomach.
“Well, you see… I had bought some lingerie for tonight, which I intended to change into. But I can’t all these buttons undone myself…”
“I can help you with that.”
Hades picks her up in one swift movement, making Persephone squeak and then throw her arms around his neck. Again she laughs from the pure joy, as he carries her to the bed and shoulders aside the sheer curtains that surround it, setting Persephone down on the mattress. He’s so careful with her, brushing the skirts of the dress down so it doesn’t fold the wrong way, then running a hand down the curve of her back, where the thirty silk buttons run from her neck to the ruffle of skirts.
“So, you’re not going to rip my dress off?” Persephone asks, propping herself up on her elbows so she can look backwards.
“Maybe another time,” Hades promises, laying one hand on her back. She can feel it through the dress, the way it spans her shoulder-blades. Smiling, Persephone closes her eyes and surrenders herself to the feels of Hades working his way down her dress, one button at a time unfastening and letting the cool air of the room whisper across the skin of her back. Hades’s fingers trace little patterns on every inch of exposed skin, a quiet worship that reminds her of the vow he whispered to her at the altar, of power and respect.
“You know, it’s very hot in the mortal realm all the time,” Persephone finds herself saying, as Hades reaches the small of her back, the last of the buttons, and spreads her dress open. “Even when it rains, it’s still warm.” She wriggles out of the sleeves and lets the bodice fall around her waist, twisting up to face her husband. He looks almost dazed, his eyes focused on her face as if he’s trying to absorb her words with all of his attention. “But on a rare day, the temperature will drop briefly.”
Persephone hooks her fingers into her husband’s pants and undoes the clasp, tugging his shirt up so she can touch the hard planes of his stomach, then turn her attention to undoing the buttons of his shirt. He’s still looking at her with all of his attention, as if he doesn’t notice the way she’s opening his shirt, exposing the lines of his chest and the scars that slash across it. His arms are still at his sides, letting Persephone slide the straps of his suspenders down and then throw his shirt back off his shoulders.
“I don’t know what it is about the sudden chill, but I would always get this overwhelming feeling of joy.”
The intensity of his gaze makes Persephone feel transcendent. She pulls her hair out of the bun, runs her hands through it and flicks a few stray bobby pins onto the floor beside the bed. “It was always marred by ambiguity… but I think it was about you.” She rests her hands on his chest, spreading her fingers out to feel the coldness of his skin. Just like the Underworld, just like those brief cold patches that caught her unawares in the mortal world, raising the hair on the back of her neck.
As if finally released from a spell, Hades moves, pulling her against him and tilting her chin up to press their mouths together. Here, Hades is warm, and his tongue is a demand against her lips, his hands holding her tight. Hades pulls away from her only to press a kiss to the side of her neck, and then down to her breasts. Her bra stops him from reaching lower, but he places lingering kisses along the swells of her cleavage, his hands reaching around to undo the clasp and pull it away.
“You’re beautiful,” Hades murmurs, and Persephone is dizzy with it all.
“I’m yours,” she answers simply, and Hades buries his face in the curve of her neck, his hands on her waist holding her even tighter for a moment. Persephone hopes she has bruises tomorrow, although she knows her divine skin is made of tougher stuff than that.
After the moment to regain his composure, Hades reclaims her lips. Persephone has never felt so wonderfully overwhelmed by someone’s touch before Hades: she feels wild when he kisses her, like she could tear his clothes off and crawl into his ribs just to be closer to him. It scares her and excites her in equal measure.
Hades presses her gently back against the pillows, and Persephone lets it happen: Hades doesn’t break the kiss as he pushes her wedding dress down and down and off her legs. Persephone hears the soft sound of it hitting the floor beside the bed, and now she is just in her underwear and Hades is running his hands over the curves of her sides, the swell of her hips, the divots that separate her hips and thighs.
It’s lovely, and then Hades leans down close enough that their chests brush, and Persephone flinches.
Immediately, Hades draws back from her, hands held up as if in surrender. 
“No, come back,” Persephone protests, reaching out for him. “You startled me, come back.”
“Am I too cold?” Hades asks, hands still hovering.
“Of course not. Keep kissing me.” Persephone manages to reach Hades’s face and pulls him back down, cupping both sides of his jaw and guiding their lips back together. Hades allows it, but his hands stay on either side of Persephone’s head, no longer touching her, and something about it doesn’t feel right. She feels trapped.
“Can we-” Persephone mumbles, pulling back from the kiss. She’s frustrated with herself and this feeling. Her wedding night is supposed to be perfect, isn’t it? “Could I, uh-” She can’t say it out loud but she flips her hands around and raises her eyebrows at Hades.
“Oh! Of course.”
Hades picks her up and twists around so that his back hits the pillows and drops Persephone on his chest. She makes a little sound of surprise at the maneuver, but once she’s sitting on top of him, it’s definitely much better. She stretches her arms, reasserting her freedom, and looks down to see Hades staring up at her with awe-struck eyes.
“Can I touch you?” he asks, and Persephone aches with love and need in equal measure.
“Please.”
His hands are back on her before she can breathe, settling on her hips in quiet appreciation, then running up her sides with a light enough touch that Persephone twists and giggles from the touch, too ticklish. Hades’s lips quirk, clearly saving that information for later. For now, he cups her breasts in his hands, running a thumb along their curve and then in dancing circles inwards until it brushes over her nipple and Persephone arches with a gasp. It’s a light, exploratory touch, yet she feels it down to her toes.
Her hands come up, searching for something to grab, and settle around Hades’s wrists, keeping his hands where they are. He scratches his nails gently on the sides of her breasts and Persephone can’t breathe. Hades doesn’t stop touching her, switching between light touches and sweeps across her nipples, keeping her on-edge and writhing in a new symphony of feelings. It’s so much and not enough, and she realizes she’s grinding down on Hades’s chest, trying to get friction.
On the verge of overstimulation, Persephone breaks his grip by leaning down and kissing him again, enjoying the new angle and the way he has to tilt his chin up for her, instead of the other way around. Mirroring Hades earlier, Persephone presses more kisses to his jawline and his throat, down to his pectoral, where she gives into temptation and presses her teeth into his skin.
Hades jolts and groans and one hand comes up to cup the back of her head.
“Harder,” he tells her, and Persephone obeys, biting down until Hades hisses through his teeth, then peppering the area with gentle kisses to make it better. There’s something satisfying about seeing the double-curve of her teeth in his skin.
Persephone has to scoot back to press a kiss to Hades’s stomach, then the curves of his hips, and she impatiently tugs at his pants to try and get the out of the way. Hades laughs and pulls her forward again, cupping her butt with both palms and dragging her up to his chest. Then he lifts his hips and pushes down his pants, kicking them off the end of the bed.  
Persephone wants to see all of him. She reaches back and hooks her fingers into his underwear, tugging at them just as demandingly. Hades laughs again and obediently removes them, then slides a finger under Persephone’s waistband with a questioning eyebrow. Persephone catches his hand and brings it to her mouth so she can kiss his open palm, a silent answer: not yet.
Then she makes her way backwards, so she can straddle Hades’s thighs instead of his chest. It’s not the most elegant manoeuvre she’s ever done, but her mountain of a husband necessitates a little bit of climbing, and they both laugh a little.
Once Persephone is settled, she runs her hands over Hades’s thighs and just looks.
She’s seen Hades’s scars in the pool, but now she can see how they wrap around his hips as well, spanning his body from head to thigh. They shine with the reminder of his immortality: injuries that would have killed anything that could die. Evidence of trauma and evidence of the fact that nothing can take her husband from her.
Beyond that, Hades is an oasis of indigo against the white sheets of the bed, his cheeks faintly dotted with blushing stars as he lets Persephone look her fill. Mortals could write endless poems about the lines of his hips and the ripple of his muscles, and all of them belong to her now.
And then Persephone looks down and is absolutely stunned.
How is that supposed to fit inside me???
She reaches down and gingerly touches the base of his cock, a light press of the fingers to assess that she is, in fact, looking at the real thing. It jumps under her fingers, a slight reaction, and Persephone pulls her hand back, surprised. This is new territory for her: she doesn’t know how to make this good for him. Remembering some half-forgotten porn videos, watched on the phone Artemis had given her, she steels herself and reaches out again.
This time, she wraps her hand around him, finding that her fingers can’t reach all the way to her thumb. She makes an involuntary noise at this realization and Hades laughs, though the sound is strangled.
He reaches up, brushing her hair behind her ear.
“We’ll take it slow,” he promises.
Persephone feels herself blush. “How does it… will it hurt?” She can’t imagine that it won’t, but she wants Hades to reassure her.
“It doesn’t have to,” Hades answers. “We’ll make sure it doesn’t.”
“How?” Persephone runs her fingers along Hades’s cock, fascinated by the texture. She can’t tell if he’s fully hard or just getting there, but the contrast of soft skin and tensed cords is hypnotizing. The skin is loose at the top and she wraps her hand around him again, pulling down the foreskin and revealing the flushed head, a darker indigo than any other part of him. She wants it to fit. She will make it fit.
“Well, first you’ll need these off,” Hades says, and again he tugs her waistband. This time Persephone takes the hint, tugging her panties off and tossing them into the pile of clothes scattered along the side of the bed. “Can I pick you up?”
“Now he asks,” Persephone teases. “Yes, my King.”
“Thank you, my Queen,” Hades says, and lifts her by the inside of her thighs, making her squeak again in surprise. Before Persephone knows up from down, her knees are on either side of the pillow, and Hades is looking up at her with an expression that is far too pleased.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Persephone is frankly worried that she’s going to drip on his face at this point.
“May I?”
“Anything, but- ohfuckHades-” Persephone curls over at the first pass of his tongue over her entrance. She thinks she might pass out, but instead she puts her hands against the headboard and does her best to hold on. “Are you really- ah-”
She doesn’t get through the question but it hardly matters because the answer is yes, he really is. His tongue is wicked, spreading her open and swirling around her clit, an endless back-and-forth that builds her higher than she knew was possible. His hands curl around her thighs, gently encouraging her to rock against his mouth, and Persephone didn’t know she was capable of making the noises she’s making. She rides the waves of pleasure, each one a new surprise, and when she looks down, Hades has his eyes closed and seems to be in ecstasy. His tongue traces circles around her clit, then teases at her entrance, and Persephone feels empty every time.
“Can you- can you-” She wants to ask for something inside of her, a tongue, a finger, anything, and Hades seems to know the rest of the sentence because on his next pass, he curls his tongue into her and she’s shaking apart, reaching down to circle her clit so that he doesn’t even think about moving. He flexes his tongue inside of her and she’s not stopping her own rhythm, and the orgasm takes her further than she expected, leaving her shaky-legged and hungry for more.
She shifts back so she can prop herself up with her arms, gasping for air. Hades is there, kissing her, and she can taste herself in his mouth, bitter and sweet at the same time.
Hades shifts them so that they’re lying beside each other and Persephone collapses on her side in relief, pressing herself feverishly against Hades. She’s so warm, his skin a relief against her breasts and her cheek. She can’t help but throw a leg over him, wanting him closer.
She feels Hades run a hand down her back, then over her thigh, up her inner thigh so that his fingers are close to where she wants them.
“Yes,” she gasps against his chest.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, and rubs a finger against her lips for a moment before slipping it inside of her. It’s much deeper than his tongue, and she tenses for a moment. He stops, and they both hold still against each other until Persephone breathes deep and relaxes again.
For a moment, Hades presses a finger to her clit, but Persephone winces from overstimulation and he gracefully switches his attention to the finger inside of her, pressing against her inner wall and making her spread her legs further to get more sensation. Two fingers at her entrance make her tense again, but he runs them up and down until she relaxes, and then he slowly slides them into her, and Persephone is on fire again.
She pulls at his shoulders, making him roll on top of her, which makes the angle better. He stays below her, his nose at the level of her chest, and she doesn’t feel trapped at all this way. His fingers rock into her, and he mouths at the curve of her breasts, as if he can’t help it when they’re right in front of him. After a few moments, he swipes his tongue across one of her nipples and Persephone’s back arches off the bed, forcing herself harder onto his fingers. Persephone makes out the corner of a self-satisfied smile before Hades puts his head down and starts to lavish attention on each of her nipples in turn, taking the opportunity to slide a third finger into her.
Persephone didn’t know that the stretch could feel good, but it does, something deep inside her taking pleasure from the sensation of being so full. The dull pleasure of his fingers and the sharp pleasure of his tongue flicking across her nipples is a contrast that has her rocking between them, her pleasure turning to near-silent gasps as she nears her second climax.
She’s sharply disappointed when Hades takes away his fingers, her hips rocking into nothing, but then he’s rolling them over again so that Persephone sits on top of him, and something better than fingers is bobbing in front of her, flushed and waiting.
The loss of her second orgasm makes Persephone desperate, and she wraps her fingers again around Hades’s cock, pumping it to get a feel for its width. Hades groans at her touch, head tossing back against the pillows.
“Remember- ah, take it slow.”
Persephone brings herself up on her knees, balancing on his hipbones, and positions Hades underneath her. She can’t help but feel it out, pressing the head against herself and then rubbing against it, a roll of her hips that has Hades grabbing the sheets on either side of himself. Once she’s sure that they’re both wet, she starts to drop down on him.
And oh, she didn’t know what full felt like before.
Hades is everywhere, inside of her and underneath her, one of his hands grabbing desperately at her thigh. The first orgasm did its work, the stretch almost lost in the slide, but before she gets very far, it starts to chafe. Working on instinct, Persephone pulls off and then settles back down, getting a little further the second time. Hades’s breath catches, but he lets her do what she wants. His hand tightens and relaxes on her thigh, her measurement of his self-control. She has to re-settle herself four times but then something feels right and she can take him deeper than before, gasping with pleasure as she finally reaches his base, legs splayed out onto the blankets.
Persephone can’t help but reach down and touch the place where they’re together. She can’t imagine it, even though she’s here, and the brush of her fingers against her clit make her gasp, throwing her headlong back into the need for her orgasm.
The only problem is that her legs are wide enough that she can’t get into position to ride Hades properly, so she tries rocking back and forth a little.
“Ah-” she gasps, just as Hades groans, and both of them reach out for each other, their hands colliding and tangling together.
Persephone experiments with the little purchase she has, rocking and twisting her hips, and Hades is a man undone beneath her, hips shuddering up against her now that he is no longer trying to keep still.
“Can I-”
“Yes,” Persephone gasps before he can finish, and Hades untangles his hands from hers, cups her hips and moves her. He picks her up just as easily as all the other times he’s scooped her up, and then he drops her back down against his hips.
He’s so deep inside of her, she can feel it everywhere, her whole body singing with it. He lifts her again and Persephone is desperate for it, wriggling against his grip to get him fully back inside of her, where he belongs. He doesn’t deny her, pressing up into her with his heels against the bed, and this way Persephone can feel him moving, thrusting into her like he’s just as desperate, just as wild.
“Yes,” she says again, and Hades holds her there above him, as if she weighs nothing, and he drives himself into her, their hips meeting again and again, and Persephone scratches her nails down his chest because it’s the only thing she can reach. His fingers cup her ass, thumbs digging into her hips, and she is flying in his grasp, running her fingers across his chest, his nipples, her own breasts, and finally giving in and touching herself, playing frantically with her clit as Hades sheathes himself in her over and over again. She can’t tell if she’s nearing climax or far over the edge, entirely lost in the arc of pleasure.
It seems like forever before Hades tires, but eventually he flips them over again and Persephone finds herself back against the cushions. Hades lifts her hips so he can kneel on the bed, not leaning over her but pulling her onto him. Persephone reaches up and braces herself against the headboard with one hand, using that to push herself back onto Hades with frantic need. His hips snap against hers, and she can hear them moving together.
He's trying to stay upright but he’s bowing towards the headboard, groaning each time their hips meet. Persephone pulls him down, so he can rest on his elbows. Her nose brushes against his chest like this, but she doesn’t care anymore, too lost in the exquisite pace of their bodies together, the way Hades is starting to stutter in his rhythm. Persephone drinks in the hitch of his breathing, the groan when she flicks a revengeful tongue against his nipple in return. His thrusts grow more forceful and Persephone puts both hands against the headboard again, in danger of being pushed against it but instead meeting him, strength for strength.
“I--- I love you, I love you,” Hades groans into her ear. “I love you.”
“Ah- Hades, Hades.” Persephone wants to say that she loves him too, but his name is the only thing that spills from her lips.
The sound of it seems to send him over the edge, and he pulls her against him with a moan. She can feel him twitching inside of her, the flood of warmth in her core, and it makes her desperate for her own release. She manages to get a hand down on herself, and it only takes a few desperate movements for her to be over the edge as well, Hades crying out as she ripples around him.
They rock against each other for a few more seconds, the waves of pleasure carrying them further. Their chests are both heaving against each other, and Persephone has to put her head to the side to catch her breath, Hades half-collapsed on top of her but still supporting his weight on his forearms. Finally, he runs a hand through her hair and pulls back, making Persephone wince as he leaves her. It’s a strange feeling of emptiness, no longer marking a need, now just a temporary ache of absence.
Hades rolls onto the mattress beside her and pulls her against him, curling around her back and tucking one arm over her so that Persephone is entirely covered by him.
“…we didn’t get under the blankets,” Persephone observes after a long pause, and both of them start to laugh.
“Let me fix that.” Hades manages to pull the blankets down so they can both scoot underneath, and then tugs them up to Persephone’s shoulders. “Better?”
“Mmm, cozy.” Persephone cups Hades’s forearm where it lies across her stomach. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too. More than anything.”
Persephone smiles and nuzzles her cheek into the pillow. She’s exhausted and still humming with pleasure, and married.
She can’t imagine a better wedding night.
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