#and then i got to the third time fighting him + the flashback and like. hear me out ok | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mack-devereaux · 6 months

Note

Hiii i wanna ask if ya can write something with Vince? Maybe him getting into a fight (so hot i love it) and hin hurting his wrist are something? And reader taking care of him afterwards. Plleeaassee

Vince Dunn

Omg this is my first request!! I’m so sorry it took so long! Also check out my other fic about Vince. I think they have a similar vibe. But This has no relation to that one. I had so much fun writing this. Just a reminder this is a work of fiction and my imagination, this is not based on true events. Thank you to the anon who requested!

Picture is from Pinterest, no triggers except for cursing and mentions of blood. I think that’s it! Enjoy!

When Vince first moved to Seattle he was excited. This was a brand new team and he had more opportunities to make a name for himself as one of the more aggressive defensemen in the NHL. He had always had a temper on the ice, even in his early days in high school and in the OHL, and he was good at running his mouth. He was always respectful to the medical training staff and the coaching staff, he never took his anger or frustration out on the people who helped him get back on the ice.

Did he cause the fights on purpose? Maybe.

Was he mad about being hauled into the cute medical trainers office to get patched up? Absolutely not. He enjoyed talking with y/n and getting to know her a bit better.

Did he cause fights just to see her? No, he truly has a passion for the sport, he just sometimes got a little too involved with the banter sometimes. However a perk to all this was those few minutes alone with y/n. Although she never really spoke to him much outside of work and was always very quiet he knew how passionate she was about her job. No matter what she was always so attentive to the injury and informative about what she was doing to help said injured player.

Y/n loved the energy of the home games, she typically didn’t get to travel very much with the team, only to close games, but something about the atmosphere of home games had her just buzzing with energy. Most of the time she got to watch the game from the tunnels, it was the perfect spot to see most of the game and it was easy to drag injured players back to the locker room to tend to the injuries. Tonight’s game was a home game against the Colorado Avalanche again, a team known to get the Kraken a little riled up. Just the week prior Vince had gotten himself into quite the scrum and ended up with a cut on his nose while playing against the Avalanche.

*flashback to a week prior*

Y/n was sitting in the medical room at Ball Arena, going through the medical kits organizing some of the supplies. She had heard the roar of the crowd and immediately knew there was a fight that happened. Shortly after that, the third period had ended. Hearing the players stomping down the tunnel shouting and cheering she already knew who was headed her direction.

“Vince..” y/n sighed pulling all her medical supplies back out.

“Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me” Vince chirped at the girl.

“You’re gonna have some serious damage to your nose if you don’t stop” y/n said as she was washing her hands and throwing her gloves on “I’m surprised you don’t have a permanent scar from how many times I’ve seen it busted”.

“That just means you are doing a great job babe. I’ve got you to thank for keeping me looking good” Vince smiles.

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned around trying to hide her blush. Knowing this was the exact reason as to why she fell for him. He was just so charming. He knew exactly what to say and that’s why she could never date him. That and the fact that she technically worked for the same organization as him. Were they coworkers? No, but surely it was still frowned upon. At least that’s what she told herself anyway. As she was cleaning off the blood from his nose she caught herself admiring him. He truly was one of the most beautiful people she’s ever laid eyes on. Once the bleeding stopped she checked for other injuries, and sent him to be with the rest of the team.

“Promise me you’ll keep out of trouble for at least the next week” she called to him as he walked away.

“For you? Never.” He added with a wink.

*present*

Five minutes left in the third period and y/n had gotten to watch maybe 10 minutes total of the game. Partially because she didn’t like seeing Vince fight much, and because the players definitely kept her busy. This was probably the most bloody noses and knuckles she had tended to in her entire career. Normally the crowd goes crazy and encourages fights, and she definitely enjoyed that. But for some reason she couldn’t stomach seeing Vince getting hurt. I guess she had Cupids arrow to thank for that. After a few more minutes gloves went flying, curse words were being yelled and the crowd went wild. Reluctantly she looked over in front of the players bench and Vince had thrown a Colorado player on his back.

“Oh for fucks sake Vince” she muttered under her breath.

“You got him or do you want me to take care of him this time” the head medical trainer asked y/n chuckling and shaking his head.

Y/n looked across the ice as Vince and the Avalanche player got tossed in their respective sin bins, she sees that Vince has his helmet off and is holding his wrist.

“I think he hurt his wrist, do you see him messing with it?” y/n points to Vince.

“I’ll take a look when we get back there but I’m sure he’s fine. I think you can handle it after that” the trainer says as they walk back to the locker room.

After the game y/n was in her office waiting for Vince, it had been nearly 40 minutes since the game ended. What was taking him so long? She knew Coach had told him to stop by after their after game meetings and interviews. While she was waiting she decided to tidy up and clean a bit. As she was cleaning her desk she found the puck that Vince had signed and gave to her earlier that year.

*flashback to late last season*

Y/n was standing behind the players bench. It was the last home game for the season, then they were headed into playoffs. Looking onto the ice she watched the players warm up and interact with fans. Vince was watching y/n as he was skating in circles, getting a boost of confidence he picked up a puck and signed it with a note. Smirking he passed by and shouted “hey y/n! Catch!”

Panicking y/n shot both of her hands in front of her face as the head medical trainer caught the puck before it smacked her in the face.

“Really Dunn?!” Y/n shouted.

Vince grinned and skated off, shaking her head she looked at the puck she noticed it said “hey pretty girl” with his signature. Blushing she shoved it in her pocket before she could get scolded.

“Oh he’s so got it bad for you” the trainer said.

“Leave the chirping to the players would you” y/n muttered “besides it’s not like I can date him anyway.”

“Technically…”

“Don’t tempt me” y/n sighed “my heart can’t handle the heartbreak that comes with that one.” She continued to watch him skate around and talk to his teammates with a huge smile on his face.

*back to present*

Y/n smiled at the memory. Not knowing she wasn’t alone, because of course Vince would walk in at that very moment. Leaning up against the doorframe Vince coughed snapping her back to reality.

“My God Vince, now you choose to be quiet? You scared me” y/n shoved the puck back into the drawer.

“I’ll make sure to knock next time” he softly smiled. He totally saw that she still had the puck and it definitely boosted his ego.

“Let me see your wrist” y/n said.

“It’s fine” he muttered.

“If it’s fine let me double check then” y/n challenged.

Vince walked over and sat down on the bench in her office, while reluctantly holding his wrist out. He watched her face as she examined his wrist.

“I think if we wrap it for tonight and tomorrow you should be fine, but the swelling needs to go down significantly before you play again. I’ll clear you for practice but you have to be easy on your arm for the next few days” y/n said as she was grabbing the necessary supplies.

“Thank you for taking care of me y/n, I’m sorry for fighting” Vince whispered.

She smiled at him as she sat down and started wrapping his wrist. Knowing full well that he was watching her face closely the entire time.

“I’ll walk you to your car” Vince said.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you” y/n said as she turned back to him after putting the supplies away. With yet another boost of confidence Vince grabbed her by the waist and pulled her face to his and kissed her, she immediately kissed him back. The kiss was short and sweet. Electricity shot through her body and she felt as if she was on fire. After pulling away y/n whispered “we should go.” Neither of them saying anything as they left the arena. Vince was feeling defeated for the first time in a long time, why hadn’t she said anything? Did he over step? Did he make her uncomfortable? A million more discouraging thoughts ran through his head. Him not knowing she was in shock and on cloud nine all at once. Y/n unlocked her car and opened the door. Before she got in she turned to Vince and pulled his face to hers and slammed her lips onto his. Vince cockily smiled into he kiss and pulled her into him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. After a few minutes they both pulled away, breathing heavy and trying to get as close as possible to each other.

“Thank you for walking me to my car Vince.”

“Let me know when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey imagines #seattle kraken #vince dunn #thoughts with mack #vince dunn imagine

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macfrog · 10 months

Text

la petite mort sex on fire chapter four

bonsoir my children. it's your cool slutty daddy, ceo!joel, back for round two of paris trip. please enjoy, i hope this one causes less confusion but just as much heart failure as last chapter. love u guys long time. literally SO much. 💘✨💓

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you spend your second day in paris being spoiled by joel, who buys you anything you set eyes on. you’ve a treat of your own in mind as a thank-you, later on

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) another fucking confusing flashback, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, more obscene spending, sexy french speaking, sugardaddy!joel, BIG flirting, alcohol consumption, sexy lingerie, lapdance, daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected piv sex, titty appreciation, assplay, double penetration, dom!joel, softdom!joel, ripping of expensive lingerie (rip), overstimulation, creampie, aftercare!joel, angst, themes of abandonment, fluff in the end i'm a romantic at heart

word count: 6.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“All mine?” he asks, pushing inside. He’s going slow. He’s making you answer him first. “Y-yeah,” you whine, head falling forward into the bedsheets. “All – yours.” “Spoiled, ain’t I? Such a pretty little pussy all to myself. You sure you don’t wanna share with anyone?” “No, daddy. Just – want – you.”

The late afternoon sun has dipped behind the clouds. The wind’s picked up, too. You’re standing on the terrace of your suite, elbows propped on the metal railing, watching the light slowly drain from the sky, and melt into tiny twinkling headlights on the roads below.

Paris stares straight back at you. Melancholy, in this light. A little faded, worn, a washed gray as she loses her fight with the slow-setting sun. Your eyes trace the skyline, jumping from buildings to streetlights, following birds in the distance as they loop and soar over the city. Free. Held down to nothing, and no one.

When you close your eyes, he’s on the couch beside you. Blue-eyed stare cloudy, eyes puffy and red with tears he’s doing everything to hold back. Calling you sweetheart, telling you we can work through this. He’s got your bare fingers in his, thumbs running across your knuckles, rubbing circles around the empty space on your third finger. You have an impulse to stand up and walk out. You think you might follow through with it.

You don’t even hear him come in, don’t hear him call your name. Only feel when his arm snakes around your waist and he turns you to face him. Your eyes flutter back open.

“Hey,” Joel says, leaning back to look you up and down. “Nice robe.”

His fingers toy with the belt, thumb running across the soft terrycloth.

“You smell like whiskey,” you mutter, hands resting on his chest. You take a deep breath, pushing the relief you feel now that he’s back, down to the pit of your stomach. And then you finally look him in the eye. “How was Jean-Marc?”

Joel shrugs. “Same as usual. Wants to meet you.”

“You mentioned me?”

He bypasses your question. “Said I’d check with you, but he wants to have us for breakfast tomorrow.”

You nod. “Sounds like a nice guy.”

Joel grumbles, his lips tighten, and he looks out over the view behind you. You tilt your head and his hands take yours, dropping them to your side. His eyes fall low, past the tie he was just messing with.

“You gettin’ ready to go?”

“I was about to, yeah,” you reply, breathing a laugh when he starts to kneel in front of you. “Joel.”

“Mhm?” he asks, but he’s not listening, is he? His hands run up your legs, starting at your knees, and push the edges of your robe apart the higher they go.

“We – gotta – Joel,” you sigh, head rolling back, hands gripping the railing.

Joel’s lips part on your inner thigh, his tongue runs along your skin, trailing northward. His hands precede, pushing under your robe now to cup your naked ass, when he lifts his chin and glances up.

“Nothin’ on under it, baby,” he whispers, tsking. “’m I gonna do with you?”

“We have–” you shudder when his fingers move between your legs, “–to go get ready.”

“So go.”

Fucker.

You lean back against the glass, eyes quickly scanning the hotel in front of you, searching the neighboring windows for any prying eyes, but in the slow-moving blanket of dusk, mixed with your will to care quickly depleting, you find none.

Your attention draws back to Joel, whose lips run dangerously close to your center.

“Open, baby,” he says, and you don’t think about it. Your body just does what he tells it to.

Your legs fall open, head lulls to one side, fingers move through his hair. His jaw lowers, breath gently tickling your soft skin, and then his lips cup around your mound.

You breathe a sigh of relief. Which quickly morphs into a moan, open-mouthed and broken, when Joel’s tongue sweeps over your clit.

“There,” you whisper, a little more serious than you intended, “do that – again.”

He obeys, wet tongue licking you again while his hands pull your thighs over his shoulders. Your weight shifts onto his body, back arching as he sucks on the sensitive bud.

Your hips roll, needing him a little more and a little further south. And he hears you, again. He takes a hand off of your leg, middle and ring fingers joining together to push up between your folds and inside you, dragging a whine from your lips.

“Yeah,” you moan, feeling yourself driving into his mouth and fucking yourself on his hand at the same time.

“Taste so sweet, pretty girl,” he mumbles, mouth preoccupied.

Your head falls back, body slung over the balcony, thighs spreading ever so slightly to have more of him on more of you. And then your head starts to dizzy, your body hums in pleasure, your cunt starts to throb.

But before it goes any further, he’s pulling away.

His lips leave first. Then he draws his hand from between you, sucks his fingers clean and stands. Is he fucking –

“– serious?” you ask, jolting back to life.

He smirks, tongue pushing around his cheeks. “Hurry up ‘n get ready. I wanna go down to the bar for a drink before the car comes.”

And then he’s turning on his heel, striding back inside.

“And what about me?”

“What about you?” he calls over his shoulder.

Your hands hit your thighs with a slap. “Fucking…sadist,” you hiss after him, following him into the warmly lit living room of your suite and down the hallway to the bedroom. Trying to ignore the ache between your legs which only grows worse the more you move.

“I’ll take good care of you later, angel.”

He sits back against the dresser at the foot of the bed, nods toward the black dress you’d laid out on the mattress an hour ago.

“Go on.”

“Go on what?”

“Show me the dress I paid three grand for on you, instead of it laying on the fuckin’ bed.”

You roll your eyes and storm by him, grabbing the black fabric, and lock yourself in the bathroom.

“’n don’t you think about finishin’ yourself!” Joel calls through the door.

“Fuck you!” you throw back, hearing his cocky laugh echo around the room.

You untie your robe in front of the mirror, letting it drop off of your shoulders into a pool of white cloth at your feet. Your eyes flit down your naked body – scanning from your shoulders over your breasts, around your tummy and down your thighs. You slip the black material over your head – a little stretch in it, just enough to mold around your body – and tug it down until it sits comfortably on your thighs.

The smooth skirt sits perfectly on your hips, curving around your ass and pulling in at your waist. You adjust the thin straps, fixing your breasts into place above a cut-out, just revealing enough. Backless, of course, straps crisscrossing over your skin.

It's skimpy, and it’s sexy, and it’s enough to make you look expensive as fuck and also make Joel want to rip it off of you the second you two make it back to the suite.

Enough to make him want to rip it off you before you’ve even left the suite, going by his reaction when you step out of the bathroom. He catches you in the mirror whilst he buttons his shirt, and turns, mouth falling open, eyes dancing all across your body.

You wordlessly sit, slip your feet into the heels you’d chosen, and fish the diamond-encrusted jewelry Joel had bought you from its box – pull the necklace around your neck, clip the earrings into place, and push the bracelets over your wrist. Then, you sling your jacket over your arm, and stand.

“I’m ready.”

“You…” His eyes scan down you again, settling on your chest for a couple seconds. “Yeah, baby. Give me five minutes.”

----------

The hotel bar reflects perfectly the intimidating grandeur of your suite, despite being a small room. It’s intimate, and pleasant, lit in a warm glow, and as you stroll in on Joel’s arm beneath a huge, ornate chandelier, you feel a smile pull across your lips. You’re not fucking sure why.

He leads you over to two heavy leather stools, pulling one out and waiting for you to hop up on it before he sits beside you. He orders two glasses of red wine, and the waiter craftily pours a small drop into one glass, setting it down in front of you and waiting for you to take a sip and approve before he pours the rest.

“Pétrus,” the waiter says, focusing intently on filling Joel’s glass. “Most expensive wine in France.”

You shoot Joel a look, but he’s already lifting his glass, glint in his eye. You hesitantly pick yours up and bump it into his, taking another sip.

“Good?” Joel asks, licking his lips.

You nod. “A little too good.”

He laughs. Then he nods at the waiter, who smiles, turns to you, and winks.

You smile back, a little embarrassed. “Merci beaucoup.”

As the waiter leaves you both, Joel turns, a look on his face you’ve never seen before. “Nice accent,” he says.

You scoff. “I hope it’s a nice accent, I studied it for six years.”

“Studied French?”

You nod.

“When?”

“High school, and then all through college.”

“How did I not know that about you?”

“It’s on my resume,” you say into your wine glass, “which I now know you didn’t read when you hired me.”

“Didn’t have to,” Joel replies. “I took one look at your pretty face ‘n decided you had the job.”

Him and his quick fucking wit. He almost catches you blushing, but you save it by shaking your head, and looking at the striped-wall room around you. There’s a framed picture of a horse on the wall behind Joel. Two men sit in animated conversation on the velvet couch below it, one of them clutching a wine that’s about to spill over.

When your eyes drift back to Joel, his are fixated elsewhere.

“Oh, be less obvious, Joel,” you mutter, corners of your mouth twitching.

“Can’t help it,” he finally draws his gaze from your chest, “they look so good. That dress is…” He shakes his head.

“You chose well.”

“Say somethin’ French to me.”

“Uh, no.”

“Uh, yeah. Tell me I chose well in French.”

“Tell me how the meeting went.”

Joel sits back, pushing air out of his cheeks. “Can’t do that.”

“Then no French.”

“Baby, c’mon. Just for me.”

You shake your head, pouting your lip. “Nope.”

Joel pleads a few more times, promises he’ll buy you more things, promises he’ll order more wine, even promises he’ll fuck you in the bathroom right now if you’ll just say one sentence in French to him.

You don’t relent.

Not until you’re a couple more wines deep, leaning into one another, your knees between his, pointing out other guests in the room and conjuring make-believe backstories for them.

“That one,” you say, hushed, shoulder brushing off of Joel’s, “in the corner, by the lamp. He’s waitin’ for a date, a Tinder date, who–”

Joel snorts. “A Tinder date?”

“–a Tinder date, who used photos of Cindy Crawford on her profile.”

Joel’s head tips back with laughter, his hand steadies himself on the bar. “If Cindy Crawford ends up walkin’ in here, you’re gonna be real sorry.”

You lean into his shirt, giggling into the cotton. When you lift your head, the two of you quietening again, you look into his eyes.

Blurry around the edges, a little too much wine in your system, you whisper: “Kiss me.”

Joel’s head cocks. He leans in, and you lift your jaw. His lips part, breath hot over your red lips, and he says, “You’re gonna get us into trouble, darlin’.”

“Je m’en fous,” you reply.

“Monsieur,” a voice from your right breaks between you, “your car is outside.”

Joel straightens up, clears his throat, and thanks the waiter with another nod. His palm runs along the bar toward your arm, which he takes, rubbing his thumb gently over your skin, and he nods again toward the doors.

----------

Dinner was as fucking extreme as all of this has been. Food you’d never seen before, a menu you could barely translate even with language experience. Waiters who arrived at your table if you so much as looked up at them.

And more wine. A lot more wine.

You both stumble back into the suite, arms linked, laughter chorusing against the beige walls. Joel keeps a vice grip on your hand as you spin around him, wrapping you up in his arms when you’re close enough, and runs a thumb across your cheek when you’ve stopped giggling.

“That was fun,” he says, and you nod.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For all of it. I don’t even know what to say.”

He shakes his head in response. “You’re my guest.”

“Didn’t have to be,” you say, “could’ve brought Martha.”

“Oh, yeah, Martha. She’d be a fuckin’ hoot.”

He lets go of you, your laughter picking back up, and you split off. Joel wanders over to the minibar, and you…you wander off down the hall.

You’ve something in mind.

Safely in the bedroom, you slink over to your case and lift the bag you’d hidden in there earlier. You sneak into the bathroom, closing the door as softly as possible, and whip your little black dress over your head. You turn back to the mirror.

Same reflection as before. Same naked body. A little faded, a little unfocused, jewelry catching the light like stars in the night sky, but the same.

You reach into the white bag, like it’s a lucky draw, and lift out the soft black lace. One by one, you add each little piece – the bra cups your breasts, lifting them just the right amount. The panties sit on your hips, garter belt just above, hooked onto thigh-high, lace top stockings. And finally, the robe.

You tie it loosely at your waist, leaving it just open enough to reveal the balconette bra underneath. One last hazy look in the mirror, and you tumble back out into the bedroom and over to the door.

Your fingers clutch the gold handle, shaking a little. The cold metal bites against your skin, hot with adrenaline and determination. You twist, pulling gently on the door, and wander back to the living room.

The lights are still out, the room dark against the sparkling cityscape. There’s soft music playing, some seventies soul stuff. He’s on the balcony. The sliding doors open wide, sheer curtains swaying gently in the night breeze. His silhouette stands black against the glittering Eiffel Tower in front of him. He’s holding a whiskey.

You slip out from behind the door and let it close over gently, walking slowly across the soft carpet toward him. He can’t have heard you, you’re being too quiet, but he turns anyway, and spots you in the middle of the room.

His eyes rake down your figure, mouth falling agape. Whiskey almost spilling over from how limp his arms fall.

“Baby…” he whispers.

You take another step forward. So does Joel. Your hand reaches for the back of one of the chairs, tucked neatly under the dining table. You drag it along the carpet, setting it just in front of you, facing him, and stand back.

“Want you to sit.”

Joel nods, a voiceless Okay sneaks past his lips, and he sits back in the chair, placing the whiskey at his feet.

The song fades into a steady love song, string orchestra echoing in the background, slow, sultry. The smooth vocals fill the room, quiet and relaxing, and push you nearer him, rounding the back of the chair.

Your hands run over Joel’s shoulders as you curve around to face him, and slot in between his parted thighs. Watching as his eyes shift up and down your figure. Watching as his breath hitches, his chest shuddering anytime you move.

You’re ignoring the rise and fall of your own chest; nerves and desire and complete fucking disbelief at what you’re doing all fighting to break through. Your stomach is flipping, pulse jerking every time your eyes cross paths with Joel’s.

You nudge his legs open wider, lift his wrists, and place his hands on your waist. His fingers pull on the silk belt, loosening your robe until he’s slipping it over your shoulders, revealing every inch of lace and strap of satin to his lust-blown eyes.

“This all for me?” he asks, fucking…wonderstruck. His fingers dance along the garter belt, dipping where it clips onto your stockings.

You cock your head in a shrug. “You paid for it.”

He smiles. As if it’s Christmas and you just gave him the gift at the top of his wish list. And then you bend your knees, lowering between his thighs and dragging your hands down his front, stopping by his stiffening crotch as you go.

Joel hisses through clenched teeth, spurring you on. You palm him through his trousers, never touching his zipper, only letting him go so far as grinding his hips into your hands, before your palms slip down to his knees and you push yourself up.

Joel meets you halfway, leans forward to let your lips ghost across his. Your back arched, knees digging into the plush carpet, you trail your tongue from his chin down his bearded jawline, stopping when you reach the collar of his shirt.

And then you stand again, taking his hands and replacing them on your body. Anywhere on your fucking body. Feeling him on you is like feeling the soothing flicker of the fire after a walk in the freezing cold, and when his palms aren’t pressing against your ribcage, his fingers aren’t running between your thighs, that bitter cold bites back.

Joel hums, still taking you in through glassy eyes. “So…fuckin’ beautiful, babygirl.”

In response, you lift your knees, placing them one by one on either side of his hips. You settle against his body and push him back in the chair.

Your clothed heat lowers onto his waist, lace running across the rough fabric of his trousers, forcing a choked moan from your lips at the contact. Your skin alight, nerves burning with excitement and arousal, the slightest touch only fuels the fire more.

You grind down on him, hips rocking in time with the music. Letting his hands hold you around your back, letting him feel any part of you he fucking wants. His fingers knead roughly into your round ass, and he bucks up against your core.

You hover over him, running a hand from your stomach over your chest, stopping to squeeze your tits through your bra. And then back down again, to slip over the lace of your panties and relieve the tension there even if only for a second before you’re feeling down your thighs.

You link your arms back around Joel’s shoulders. “You gonna pay me back?” you whisper, head lowering to bury into his neck.

“No idea what you’re talkin’ about,” he slurs back.

You suck a mark into the hot skin, breathing against his pulse, “Think you do, daddy. You owe me one.”

His head rolls, bass of his laughter vibrating against your lips. “So fuckin’ slutty, darlin’. You want it that bad?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, lips still tight against his neck, fingers slowly unbuttoning his shirt lower and lower.

Joel told Martha he needed you here only to keep him right. Make sure he got everywhere on time, make sure things ran smoothly. Drop off drycleaning, pick it up before he had appearances. Get him pastries from that patisserie he loves around the corner for breakfast. There’s an empty suite downstairs that he made her book for you – an almost three grand per night suite that you both knew the entire fucking time you’d never set foot in. All to keep up with the story.

The story that you’re here strictly on PA duty. Seeing him off in cars, making sure he gets back to the hotel at night. And that’s it. Not buying lingerie with his card, and putting it on for him, and mounting him in the living room of his suite. Not letting him slip your panties to the side and run his cock through your folds, balcony doors wide open, moans escaping out into the late Parisian night.

But now his hands are on you, really on you; strong, wide hands, slipping around your waist, pressing down on the lace of your lingerie, massaging the softest parts of your body and scooping under your ass to align you to his length.

And you’re letting him.

Your hands are sifting through his hair as he breathes you in, his nose buried between your breasts. Your back arches when he finally enters you, giving you what you need most in the form of his thick cock pushing up into your warm cunt.

Like there’s nothing new, or weird, or different. Like this is all you know how to do; all you’ve ever known about him. You’re not in the office; he’s not your boss. He doesn’t tell you to shred files or organize his schedule.

This is what he does. This. He asks things of you with his hands and you fold every time. He runs his lips along the curve of your breasts and peels the delicate fabric of your bra down to wrap his mouth around your nipple, flick his tongue across it until your head rolls back and you’re moaning his name to the ceiling.

“Make yourself cum, baby,” Joel breathes against your hot skin.

His tongue is swirling around your nipple. Teeth grazing the pointed bud. He’s grinning to himself as he does it. He’s fucking lapping this up.

“So pretty when you’re wrapped around me.”

And then his fingers are toying with the clasp of your bra, and as you sink down over and over on his cock, he lets the cupped lace fall to the floor, lips instantly returning to their place on your tits.

You hold his head there, looking down and watching while you slowly bounce on his cock as he kisses, caresses, sucks.

The pleasure boiling between your legs starts to spill over, your body unable to take much more without releasing. And when Joel mumbles against your skin, “Can feel you, darlin’, squeezing me so tight,” you let go.

Your orgasm, nearly four hours in the making, rocks through your body in tidal waves, throwing your head back. Joel’s arms keep you safe on his lap as you writhe, gasping and moaning his name until you can think straight again.

When you come back to, he lifts you up. Carries you like you’re made of diamonds through to the bedroom and lays you down on the soft mattress, calling you angel, telling you you’re the prettiest fuckin’ girl he’s ever seen.

He dips his fingers and traces them along your panties, feeling the mess you just made, humming in amusement. He asks again if this is all for him and when you moan out a desperate Yeah, daddy, he tells you he’s gonna make you cum again.

He takes your waist and flips you over, propping you up on your knees in front of him. He peels the white shirt from his shoulders, tossing it somewhere in the dark room, and asks if that’s what you want – to cum again. Yeah, daddy.

And when he asks who this tight little pussy belongs to, leaning forward to align with your wet mess of a cunt, your thighs spreading to accommodate the size of him, every fucking nerve in your body on fire: You, daddy.

“All mine?” he asks, pushing inside. He’s going slow. He’s making you answer him first.

“Y-yeah,” you whine, head falling forward into the bedsheets. “All – yours.”

“Spoiled, ain’t I? Such a pretty little pussy all to myself. You sure you don’t wanna share with anyone?”

“No, daddy. Just – want – you.”

Every fucking time. Every mindless, depraved time, you do it for him. Only for him.

You cum again on his cock before he’s even five thrusts in. His words send you hurtling over the edge by themselves; the massive dick burying itself between your legs is just a bonus – and something to let your walls clamp around when your back arches, chest pushes into the mattress, and your orgasm floods over you.

Joel rocks his hips slowly as you come down, cunt swollen and almost agony. His hands run from your thighs up around the globe of your ass, massaging gently. You push back, wanting more pressure from his hands, and his fingers slip against your tight hole.

You jut forward with a moan. A moan Joel knows all too well.

“Easy, easy.” He holds you steady, replacing his fingers against your asshole, pressing delicately. “You like that?”

“Fuck,” you breathe, “mhm.”

“Yeah?”

You’re nodding, though you know he can’t see you in the dark.

“Baby?”

“Yeah,” you choke out. Desperate. Depraved.

He lifts his hand and spits; you feel a bead of saliva dribble down your ass, only to be collected by the pads of his fingertips and dragged back up. Smeared over the ring of your ass, massaged into the sensitive skin around it.

“Daddy…” you moan, hips gyrating.

“’s a good girl,” Joel replies, “just relax, darlin’, you do that for me?”

You can hear in his voice he’s focusing. Eyes glued on your ass, watching as you open up around his first finger, pushing slowly inside.

Your whole body freezes as he enters you. Breath cuts short in your throat. Your mouth falls open, throat constricted around a moan.

“Breathe, babygirl.”

And you do. Well, it’s more of a gasp, a broken whine, and then a long, needy sigh, curled up at the end like it’s a request – a plea for Joel to keep going.

It’s tight. It feels…tender, and overwhelming, and good. More than good. Your hips move backward, pushing onto Joel; a swelling feeling overcoming you, the more of him you take.

“Good girl…” he whispers again.

You’re as fucking shocked as he is that you’re letting him do it – letting him slip inside both holes at once, exploring one while keeping the other content with lazy thrusts.

“Think you can take it, baby?”

“Yeah, daddy,” you tell him, body urging him to fuck you again.

So, he does. His cock picks up speed, finger knuckle-deep, curling around inside your ass. You’re gripping the bedsheets, whimpering softly into them, feeling your stomach tighten as your third orgasm begins to rise.

“Keep – doing – that,” you utter as his hips collide with yours, his thick finger picking up pace ever so slightly.

“Such a dirty girl. So fuckin’ dirty for me. You do this for all of ‘em, baby?”

The laugh you breathe answers his question. No, you don’t fucking do this – for anyone. You didn’t know until five minutes ago this was something you were into. It’s Joel. He’s the only one who could convince you – whether through his words, his expressions, or just his fucking body – to –

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine.

“Know you are, pretty girl,” Joel says, “let me feel you. Cum all over me.”

Your body collapses when your high takes over. Electricity thrumming through you, contracting around Joel’s cock and his finger. He coos you through it, whispers words of praise and filth in your ear until you’re no longer screaming, no longer able to hold yourself up.

He slowly removes his finger, soaked with his spit. You whine as it leaves you, missing the feeling, but it’s not long before his hands are on you again, flipping you back over.

He drags the clothes from his legs and pushes you up the mattress, slotting between your hips, one hand coming down to grip the lace front of your panties. He rips it, tearing the material off of your body in one motion.

You gasp, equal parts aroused as you are fucking outraged. You liked those panties. You wanted to keep ‘em.

“Fuck, Joel!”

He pushes back against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck to dot kisses along your skin.

“Buy you more, baby.”

“This whole getup,” you moan, “it cost you a grand.”

He lifts his head. “Well, in that case,” he kisses your collarbone, “buy you ten more.”

Your eyes roll back and your head follows, sinking deep into the sheets under your body. You’re sure you know where this is going, what he’s about to ask of you. You’re not sure you can give it to him. Three orgasms deep, you can barely feel when he’s massaging your sex, never mind lining his cock to it and pushing the tip inside.

“One more, angel,” he utters, looking down to guide himself through your glistening folds. “Just one more.”

“Can’t, daddy,” you whimper, but he pushes your thighs up, bending your knees. It’s borderline painful, the stretch you feel when he’s barely an inch inside.

“Yes, you can. Know you can.”

He could fuck you and cum himself without asking you to – and you’d be okay with it. You know it. He knows it. Just a few tight, wet thrusts and he’d be coming undone inside you. But he wants to do it together. Loves the way you feel when you tighten around him, squeeze him, draw his release out of him. Loves the way your voices sound together, the way you grip onto him and pull him flush against your body.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, too. The way he looks when he’s deep inside you, eyes shut, focused on nothing except the pretty noises you make and the sweet way you wrap around him, warm and snug. So you let him take you to the edge again, throw your arms around him, and fall.

Hard.

The shock of it surges through you, stars burst across your vision. You drive your nails into his shoulders, scream out into the night, moans mixed with curses and gasps and – fuck it – cries of daddy loud enough that the thought of a noise complaint at your door floats through your mind.

Joel lets out a deep groan when he cums, filling your tight cunt with his seed, face still buried in your neck. Your legs untense, thighs slip down his waist and onto the bed, your arms unlink from around his neck.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your skin.

You’re panting, chest lifting against Joel’s. He pushes into the mattress and rolls off of you, dropping in a heap to the bed at your side. You lay like that for a while, waiting for the fluttering feeling to subside, waiting for any feeling to come back to your body.

Joel pushes off of the bed and dips into the bathroom, still groaning anytime he moves. Water runs for a couple minutes, a gentle whirring as he cools his face and washes up, and then he’s back in the bedroom, sinking into the bed beside you.

He props himself up on his elbow and runs a hand across your damp forehead, unsticking your hair from your face. Intimate, vulnerable. You’ve slept together four times now, and this is the closest you’ve felt to him.

You push down an ache, different to the one he just satisfied – four times over. No, this is deeper. Somewhere more hidden. An ache for him to hold you, run his hands down your back until your body feels like yours again. An ache for him to take you in his strong arms and keep you still, keep you steady.

An ache that feels…dangerous. An ache you want to disappear. Now.

“You okay?” Joel asks, and you nod.

He studies you for a while, looking up and down your body, smiling to himself. This isn’t something either of you are going to forget for a while.

“What’s this?”

Joel takes gentle hold of the gold chain around your sweat-glistening neck, running it between his fingers until he’s holding one half of a broken heart.

“Notice you wearin’ it all the time.”

You take a deep breath before replying, watching as he looks at it intently in his hand. “My mom has the other half. It makes up a heart. We got ‘em when I was sixteen, right after…”

Joel’s eyes drift up to yours when your sentence crumbles. His soft gaze encourages you to continue.

“…right after my dad left.”

He almost winces.

You’d always hated Wednesdays. Wednesdays meant Math, and Math meant two hours of sitting in total confusion, dodging your teacher’s requests for answers and counting down the minutes until class ended.

But your dad told you that you should do well in it, so you were trying. For him.

One Wednesday, Miss Pepperman handed out the results of the previous week’s test. You’d scored well, maybe not as good as some of the others, but decent by your own standards. You snuck the test paper into your bag to take back home, show your dad. Make him…proud.

When you rounded the corner to your street, his car was in the drive, trunk wide open. Suitcases inside. You caught him leaving as you wandered by the beat-up Toyota.

Your mom wants you in the house, he’d said, a cardboard box of files in his clutches.

You tried to ask what the fuck was going on, but he’d yelled at you and thrown the box into his back seat. And then you brought up the test paper, twisted around to fish it out of your bag, like some stupid C would convince him to stay. He yelled louder, and you disappeared inside like a spooked cat.

Your mom was on the couch, face in her hands. She lifted her head, cheeks stained with mascara and tears. As you sat down beside her, you heard the engine of his car roll away. You never saw him again.

You don’t tell Joel all of this. He doesn’t need to know, and he doesn’t ask. Telling him about the C in Math risks telling him about the way your dad looked at you when you held up the crumpled paper, and that risks telling him about everything you’ve ever held back from saying to anyone, for fear of seeing that same bored, disappointed expression.

It feels like a hand you’re not quite ready to play just yet. An ace or two missing, only a couple of cards off of feeling confident enough to show him.

Instead, you shrug, and say, “That was…thirteen years ago now. And we just never take ‘em off. It’s like our little promise to, like…stay together, or whatever.”

He nods, letting the necklace rest back on your naked chest.

There’s something in the air between you. Quiet, unassuming. An understanding, though you’re not sure what of. But it feels comfortable, which you weren’t expecting when he asked the question. Nobody knows much about you and your dad – not even your closest friends. And here you are, naked and exhausted, letting the words tumble out to none other than your boss.

But he’s so blasé about it, so unperturbed by it that, if he hadn’t been the one to ask himself, you could mistake it for disinterest. He just listens, nods, and lets it pass over. Lets you drop it, when you’re done talking about it.

For the second time tonight, this time a little more sober but a little less guarded, you say, “Kiss me.”

And this time, he doesn’t ask you to speak French. Doesn’t make any witty quip, doesn’t warn you you’re walking dangerous territory. Doesn’t even hesitate, not for a beat. Just leans in, cups your cheek with one hand, and presses his lips to yours.

Warm, sweaty, almost quivering lips. Soft, and kind, and safe. You melt into him, wrapping both hands around his wrist, shutting your eyes and pretending just for a moment that you’re not teetering along a knife edge right now.

You pull back, losing your balance on the tightrope you’re walking, and Joel’s hand slowly drops from your face. His eyes ask if you’re okay, and you nod. I’m fine. This is fine.

“Alright,” he says, sitting up with a sigh. “You want a drink?”

You nod again. “Water, please.”

He strokes your thigh once and walks out of the room, leaving you in the quiet dark by yourself.

You bring your fingertips up to your eyes. Exhale deeply into the palms of your hands. Think about what just happened, and then tell yourself not to think much about it. Think about that fucking twinge in the bottom of your stomach, the one that felt like…yearning. And then tell yourself, fucking – order yourself not to read too much into it, or you’ll drive yourself up the wall.

Because the truth of it is: you’ve one more full day in Paris, and you highly suspect that what happened here tonight, is gonna happen all over again tomorrow. And that leaves room for that yearning feeling to come back. Resurface, like a silent predator in murky waters.

That won’t happen tomorrow. It can’t happen tomorrow.

You stand and throw that white terrycloth robe over yourself, heading for the living room.

----------

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atlabeth · 3 months

Text

weight of the world

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy returns to camp after a successful quest. luke battles his guilt.

a/n: a lot of you guys seemed to like the percy pov and the pure angst of luke doing all this stuff to his first love's brother percy jackson instead of just percy jackson and first and foremost i would like to say you're all crazy but i also agree. so here you go. title from the jon bellion song

wc: 5.6k

warning(s): reader is dead (i feel like i have to tag this every time lmao). angst made angstier with fluffy flashbacks. tlt betrayal scene (pit scorpion edition). everyone is so sad

When Percy returned to camp with Annabeth and Grover, they were hailed as heroes.

It might not have felt like it on the road, isolated with just the three of them, but they’d prevented a third World War. They certainly stopped camp from getting destroyed, if what Luke told them was true about the cabins taking sides.

Burning their burial shrouds felt even better, especially with the Ares cabin’s expert craftsmanship. Apparently it was a tradition because demigods died so frequently on quests—Percy took pride in breaking that unsettling standard.

It turned out all he needed to come into his own was to go on a quest everyone thought would kill him and not die.

He excelled during his sword fighting lessons—going against a god would do that for you—he’d gotten much better at using his powers—going against a god would also do that for you—and his team always dominated on the lake during races, though that might’ve just been him cheating.

He’d even started getting used to the Poseidon cabin in all its emptiness. It still felt too lonely, but he was working on it. The first thing he did when he got back to the cabin was pin your photo on the wall—Cabin Three belonged to you as much as it did to him.

And of course, everyone wanted to hear about how Percy saved the world. He’d told the story of his quest about a hundred times since he got back, sometimes with Annabeth piping in to set the record straight, sometimes with Grover dramatically setting the scene, always with a million different questions in between about how everything went down.

Tonight was no different in the amphitheater—a group of Athena kids wanted to hear about his fight against Ares again—but he managed to get out of giving them the excruciating play-by-play courtesy of campfire songs. Percy didn’t really mind, though—any night with a large, golden fire was a good night in his books.

Which was kind of how he ended up giving Luke the play-by-play of his quest. Maybe it was bragging, but he hadn’t seen who he considered his first friend at camp in a while. And yeah, sue him, but he wanted to impress Luke. He was cool and nice and good at everything, and Percy wanted to prove he’d made him proud.

“—And I thought I didn’t stand a chance, but she taunted me and told me to jump into the water if I was really Poseidon’s kid. So I did, and it worked, and somehow I lived.” Percy shook his head with a slight laugh. “It ended up all over the news. I was a nationally wanted criminal for a couple days. We also blew a bus up, and rode with a zebra and a lion to Vegas, and went to the Underworld— gods, we did so much. It was crazy, honestly.”

Luke chuckled. “I’m sure.”

Percy glanced over at him, his brows creasing when he saw his distant gaze. He didn’t think Luke heard a single word. “You good, man?”

He blinked and focused back on Percy, and though he smiled it was strained. “Yeah. Sorry—spaced out for a second. You were talking about your quest?”

Percy nodded slowly. “Yeah. The whole criminal thing.”

His smile turned a little more genuine. “You made front page news, too. I think you became the idol of a lotta kids here.”

“Oh, god,” he said with a frown. “You guys get news here?”

“Couple New York papers,” he nodded. “You’re camp-famous.”

Percy huffed a laugh and shook his head. “It feels crazy. I just got here a month ago, and everything’s already changed so much.” He looked over at Luke. “What did you do after you got home from your quest?”

“...It takes some getting used to,” he admitted with a shrug. “I mean, getting to camp after so many years on the road was rough—coming back to camp after getting this—” he tapped his scar— “didn’t help.”

“How did you get that?” he asked.

“You’re always trying to get the saddest stories out of me,” Luke said wryly. “You know you can read books, right?”

“I can’t, actually,” Percy said. "Not well."

Luke laughed and shook his head, his gaze falling back to the fire. Percy took it as him moving on.

“I— I know I’m kind of proving your point, but… I wanted to ask you if I could have a couple more pictures” Percy cleared his throat, brushing a few dark strands of hair out of his face. “Of my sister, I mean. Obviously, you have way more of a right to them than I do, but— but Cabin Three’s a little bare. I thought adding a couple current things to the old stuff she put up would be nice.”

His throat bobbed, and it took him a second, but he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah— sure.”

“Tomorrow after breakfast?” he asked. “I’ve got some free time before I have to go down to the forge.”

Luke nodded again. “Sure. You still have that picture I gave you?”

“Of course,” he said. “I already put it up on the wall. Do you want it back?”

His smile was bittersweet as he shook his head. “Nah. Like I said, you deserve to have a piece of her with you. And I’m sure she’d say the same.”

“I asked my dad about her, y’know,” Percy said. Luke’s eyes widened a bit as he looked back at him. “I went to Olympus on my own to return Zeus’s bolt, and the two of them were there. My dad and I got some alone time, and…” he shrugged. “I already annoyed two gods that day. Figured a third wouldn’t be that crazy.”

“What did he say?”

“That it was one of his greatest regrets,” Percy said. “And he’d never forgive himself for letting her die, and for what it did to her mom.” He glanced at Luke. “And to you.”

Luke’s chest stilled, his gaze going out of focus for a moment as a muscle worked in his jaw. He hid it well, but Percy knew. He’d spent enough time at home with his mom and step-dad, overheard enough one-sided arguments.

“You’re braver than me,” he finally said, and he stood up. “I’m gonna turn in—it’s been a long day.”

“I’m sorry, Luke,” he said. “And Poseidon is too, for whatever it’s worth.”

Luke didn’t look back at him as he started towards the path. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Percy.”

“Are you sure you’re allowed to put lights up?” Luke asked.

“Okay, Chiron,” you said cloyingly. “I didn’t know you were such a stickler for the rules.”

“I’m just worried about fire safety!” he exclaimed. “The Hephaestus kids nearly burn down their cabin at least five times a week.”

“They’re working with actual fire. These are just Christmas lights.” You glanced down at him and he handed you the next strand. “Besides, this is the safest cabin for possible fire hazards. And they look pretty—that’s all that matters.”

Luke chuckled as you hung them up, and he took a step back as you jumped off the chair and moved it to the other side of the room. You usually hung fairy lights, but with the holidays just around the corner, you wanted to make the place more festive. You asked Luke if he wanted to hang out with you while you decorated, and he obviously accepted. He took all the time he could get with you.

“It’s so quiet in here,” Luke said as you got back up, taking the next strand with you. “I’m not used to an empty cabin.”

“That’s what happens when you’re not supposed to be alive,” you mused.

“You of all people can’t say that.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Do you ever get lonely in here?”

“‘Course not,” you said. “I’ve always got you following me around.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked. “Your company’s the best.”

You grinned and looked back down at him, and Luke gave you the next string of lights. “Or maybe you’re just a little crazy. You’ve gotta be to spend three years on the road with me.”

“Being around you is what’s kept me sane,” he corrected. “Especially in the Hermes cabin of chaos.”

You got up on your toes and lifted a leg up so you could lean to reach the last hook. “Oh, come on. Your siblings are so fun to be around!”

“Maybe in small doses,” he said wryly. “And be careful, gods—”

You looked down at him, your grin only growing. “Are you saying you’re worried about me?”

“Always,” he said, still watching you, “but the last thing you need is to break your leg.”

“It’s a five foot fall, Luke,” you said, amused as you got back on even footing. You hopped back down and tilted your head. “I’ve survived much higher falls.”

Luke frowned. “You don’t get to joke about that.”

“I thought you were dead too,” you defended. “That means it’s fair game.”

His chest twisted. He’d played that day over in his head thousands of times since he first lost you, wondering if he could have done something different or if he should have searched more—he stayed in those woods for a week and a half searching for you before another monster attack forced him out of the area. It was the whole reason he came up with a designated meeting area with Thalia and Annabeth if they got separated—he never wanted to lose someone again the way he lost you.

He shook his head with a sigh. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it, y’know?

“Thank my dad,” you said. “I would have died if I didn’t fall into water. And he’s the reason I got to camp.”

He’s also the reason you ended up on the streets in the first place, Luke wanted to say, but he held his tongue. You’d never shared his disdain for the gods, and he didn’t want to spoil your mood with his bitterness.

So he doesn’t. He tilted his head and focused back on you. “Do I ever tell you how thankful I am that you're still alive?”

You smiled as you pushed the chair in front of your desk. “I could always stand to hear it more.”

“Well, I’m thankful that you’re alive,” Luke said. He could have stared at your smile forever. “Mourning you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“With any luck, you won’t have to do it again,” you joked. “I get it, though. Sometimes it feels like a dream. I thought I was hallucinating when you came over that hill.”

The best and the worst day of his life—he found you again and lost Thalia in the same five-minute span. It wasn’t fair—Luke had told Thalia so many stories about you, and she was the one that brought him back from the edge your supposed death sent him to. On his worst days, Luke blamed himself for both.

“Luke,” you said, jarring him out of his thoughts. “What do you think of the lights? Tacky, or festive, or both?”

He blinked, then took a step back with you so you could get the full view. He nodded. “Festive, definitely. Where’d you even get them?”

“The Big House attic,” you said. “It’s not just full of Oracles and spoils of war.”

He chuckled. “And how did you convince Chiron to give you those?”

You shrugged. “You know I’m persuasive.”

Luke shook his head. “I’m jealous. No one else really gets to decorate their place like this.”

“No siblings means full creative control,” you mused. “And Big Three dad means a big cabin all for me.”

“And yet you still get a twin bed,” he said with a smile. “We’re all equal, really.”

“Like you wouldn’t prefer a full.” You fluffed your pillow then set it back down. “You spend as much time in here as I do.”

“Can you blame me?” Luke shrugged. “There’s no privacy there. We can get away with basically anything in here.”

“And because you love me,” you said cloyingly as you rustled your hair with his hand.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I really do.”

Your smile widened and you gestured at your box of decorations. “Wanna prove it, loverboy? Help me get the rest of this up before sword lessons.”

“Y’know, I’m leading them today,” Luke said, picking up a stack of snowflake cutouts. He was pretty sure you just took all the rejects after you were in charge of the crafts for a week. “Technically, that means we’ve got as long as we want.”

“Oh, Luke Castellan,” you said airily, pressing a hand to your chest. “You know the way to my heart.”

“Oh,” Percy said. “Wow.”

“Yeah. And this is only one of them.” Luke set a cardboard box full of things on an empty bed and sighed. “She made this place her own while she was here.”

Percy took out a stack of baseball cards on top—Red Sox, of course, the only bad thing about you—and shuffled through them. “Everything’s a little dusty.”

“No one really wanted to come in here after she died,” Luke said. He had a tangled mess of Christmas lights in his hands. “All this stuff stayed up for a year or two before I took it all down.” He huffed a mirthless laugh. “You’re probably the only one apart from me to be in here since she left.”

Percy set the cards down. “Do you mind if I put some of it back up?”

Luke glanced at him. “Why do you always ask me? This is your place.”

“It’s not just my place,” he said. “I… I want to make sure I’m honoring her well. And I don’t wanna make it harder for you. Especially if you took it down for a reason.”

Luke was silent for a moment as he stared at the lights. He brushed off some dust with his thumb.

Percy felt bad for pushing the matter every time he was around Luke, but there was a tug inside of him—an innate need to know more about her, a desperation to honor her life despite never meeting her.

“I appreciate it,” he finally said. “But go for it, man. You don’t have to get my permission.”

Percy nodded, and he took a poster out, wedged in the side of the box. A Blondie poster, based off the huge block letters above a blonde singer stylized in pop art. It had a torn corner, and bits of tape had been folded over some parts of the edges.

Luke chuckled. “She was a huge Blondie fan. She brought her Walkman when she ran away—I lost count of how many times we listened to Parallel Lines. Definitely put that one back up.”

Percy nodded and set it on his bed. He looked at the lights in Luke’s hand. “Why’d she have those?”

“She loved to light the cabin up,” he explained. “Said it made it feel more homey, and she liked to change it with the seasons. And when she enlisted the Aphrodite kids, it was like a— a HomeGoods warzone.” Luke shook his head with the most genuine smile he’d seen all day. “She really was something special.”

Again, Percy’s heart clenched. It wasn’t fair he only got to learn about you through stories, only through the past tense. If he could get his mom back, why the hell couldn’t he get you back? Why couldn’t his dad have stepped in?

What good was regret when you have all the power in the world to stop it? What good was being a god if you couldn’t save your family when it mattered most?

“Y’know, I decorated this place a million times with her,” he said, and Percy was thankful for the interruption with his thoughts. “She wanted it to be a welcoming cabin, open to the whole camp if they ever got homesick.”

“So the opposite of what it used to be,” Percy said wryly.

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “You two are the first Poseidon kids in a long time because of the oath—it was just here for respect. She didn’t just make it into her home, she made it into a home for anyone that needed some extra warmth.”

Percy looked around, trying to imagine you and a younger, unscarred Luke putting all this stuff on the walls, him helping you hang Christmas lights. You sitting on a bed, maybe what he’d chosen as his bed, talking a younger camper through their fears or their homesickness. You forcing the innate coldness of Cabin Three out and replacing it with warmth of your own.

“Did you bring any pictures?” he asked.

Luke nodded again and took a few out of his pockets, offering them to Percy. He took the one sticking out the most and smiled a bit.

“Very Poseidon of her,” he commented.

“She loved the beach,” Luke said, smiling wistfully. “No matter what state we were in, she would always try to find one. We could’ve walked twenty miles that day, and the moment she stepped into the water she would be good as new. I should’ve known who her dad was a lot sooner.”

Percy’s hand lingered on the picture he’d just put up. You stood on a sandy shore with your arms spread and head tilted back, and you looked wholly in your element.

He wondered what you would think of Montauk.

“This was one of those times?” he asked.

Luke nodded. “North Carolina. A year and a half in, I think. We missed the East Coast after being in the Midwest for so long, and naturally, she found a beach immediately.” His eyes softened. “She was always so happy around the water, even after she knew what it meant.”

Percy frowned. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Finding out the thing you’ve always loved is the domain of the father who abandoned you is a little rough.”

Luke always spoke with more nerve towards the gods than any other camper he knew. Funny, considering he was one of the first ones to tell him that names had power.

And he’d been acting weird since Percy got back from the quest. He thought maybe he was jealous, but Luke didn’t really seem like the jealous type—especially when he was already so cool.

Then again, they did just come back from the brink of a possible world war. Percy should’ve been surprised more people weren’t acting weird.

His attention drifted to the clock on the wall in the midst of his thoughts—Chiron’s last ditch effort in a camp full of time-blind kids—and his eyes widened.

Percy muttered under his breath—Annabeth had taught him some Ancient Greek curse words on the road, and he was sure his mom would love them—and looked up at Luke. “Sorry, man. I’ve gotta go. Time really got away from me.”

“I get it,” he nodded. “Have you gotten any better?”

He glanced away bashfully. “Not really. But Beckendorf has the patience of a saint. Maybe someday I’ll make an actually functional sword.”

Luke chuckled, though it was wistful. “Good luck. You mind if I stay here for a bit? I can put up some of her things.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “of course. Stay as long as you want.”

Percy stopped once he got out of the door. Luke’s gaze was glued to a picture of you on the wall, his expression softer than he’d ever seen before at odds with something indistinguishable in his eyes. Again, Percy felt that all-encompassing dread, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He left before it could consume him, but the haunted look in Luke’s eyes didn’t leave his head for the rest of the day.

You took in a deep breath of salty air. The sea breeze blew over you as waves gently rolled into shore, and you smiled. You never felt more like yourself than when you were at the beach, and when you and Luke were constantly on the run fighting for your lives, sometimes you desperately needed to feel like yourself.

You exhaled long and slow. It had been a particularly rough week—Luke did his best patching up your shoulder, but it would definitely scar—and this was just what you needed to wind down before you started moving again.

You and your mom went to Cape Cod a lot when you were growing up, and though this wasn’t anywhere close to the same, it made for an alright stand-in.

The click of a polaroid camera interrupted your peace, and you opened your eyes and turned your head to see the culprit.

“And you made fun of me for constantly taking pictures,” you said wryly.

Luke smiled. “I made fun of you for taking up valuable space in your bag to bring your camera with you. I can’t not take pictures of you—especially when you’re so photogenic.”

“Flatterer.”

“Not if it’s true,” he remarked. He held out the camera to you. “Wanna get any pictures of the sea? You’ve got a better eye than me.”

“Well, the sea’s a better subject than me,” you said. “Hold onto it.”

He chuckled and took it back, drying out the newly printed picture. “How’re you feeling, by the way? I know it’s been a hard few days.”

“Never better,” you said. “I needed a break from the road.”

“I get why you wanted to stop here,” he said. “It’s… calming.”

“Isn’t it?” You spread your arms out, breathing in deep once more. “I always feel better out here. More free.”

Another camera click, and your smile grew. “How do you feel?”

“Better too, surprisingly. But that might just be because we’re walking instead of running.” You heard his footsteps and he came up next to you. You took the picture he offered and chuckled. You had your head back and your arms spread, soaking up every bit of sun and sea air you could.

“I look like a stock photo.”

“Does that mean I can get a job as a photographer?” he asked. “We could use some extra cash.”

“Half of the pictures are either random parts of nature or me,” you said. “Who’d buy those?”

“Me,” Luke said. “But I don’t think that would help with our money problems.”

“All this flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said.

“It got me here,” he said. “I think it’s worked out pretty well.”

You smiled as you looped arms with Luke, and after you gestured with your head, you started walking down the sand together. Whereas you always felt like you were blurting out the first thing that came to mind when you were around him, Luke always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. “Do you like it here?”

Luke nodded. “It’s nice. I get why you like the water so much.”

“At least one beach a week going forward now that we’re on the coast again, then,” you said. “Deal?”

“Deal,” he agreed.

“Good,” you said with a smile. “I’ve been wanting to go back to Virginia Beach. Last time, those giant ant things ruined it for us.”

“Gods,” Luke grumbled, and you felt him shiver. “Don’t remind me of those things. I’ll never forget what their poison smelled like—and I’ll never forgive them for ruining my favorite shirt.”

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll get you a Red Sox one someday, and it’ll become your new favorite shirt.”

Luke shook his head. “Your Boston baseball propaganda isn’t gonna work. I was raised as a Yankee.”

“And I’m here to undo that awful brainwashing,” you said sagely. “Next time we go through Massachusetts, I’ll have to get you one. And we can stop by Cape Cod—I think being close to the water is good for my health.”

“And I like seeing you happy,” he mused. “So I guess it works out for both of us.”

You laughed. “We’ll have to stop at a music store before the day ends, too. I’ve nearly worn out my Cyndi Lauper tape, and I need to get some new ones. You should pick out an album you like too.h”

“‘Course,” he said. “I think we’ve got some extra cash saved up. And if we have to—”

“We shouldn’t steal anything yet,” you interrupted. “I don’t wanna get the cops on our backs so soon.”

“You say that like I would get caught,” Luke remarked. “It’s literally in my genes. I’m making my father proud, and I’m helping you. I see no reason not to do it.”

“Cool it,” you said. “We’re not becoming Bonnie and Clyde at the ripe old age of eleven.”

“Fine.” You couldn’t see it, but you could sense his smile. “I’ll hold off. For now.”

That got another laugh out of you as you leaned your head against his shoulder. It felt like you’d been on the run for a week straight—this was the best break you could have asked for. Maybe the sea was good for your health, you thought. Or maybe it was just Luke.

Either worked for you.

Percy could hardly breathe as he stared down at the scorpion, slowly inching its way up his pants leg. It wasn’t every day one of your friends betrayed and tried to kill you in the woods, but this seemed like the year he started checking things off his bucket list.

“So this was your plan all along,” he said, attention split between the pit scorpion and the traitor. “Gain my trust, send me to Tartarus, start a war for Kronos.”

The air got colder, and Luke tilted his head. “You should be careful with names.”

“And you should do the job yourself,” he challenged. “You want to kill me? Fight me like a man.”

“I’m not Ares,” he said tartly. “You can’t bait me.”

“So you’re a coward too?” Red hot anger rose within him, and the words left him before he could really think about them. “Did you also lie about my sister? Got a hobby of killing Poseidon kids?”

“Zeus got her killed, Percy!” Luke yelled. There was something wild in his eyes as he gestured with his sword. “I loved her more than anything—I held her as she died, and your dad let it happen. If it weren’t for the gods, both her and Thalia would be alive!”

Maybe it was a good thing Percy didn’t know that until now. If he knew the king of gods was responsible for his sister’s death, he would’ve gotten himself burnt to a crisp on Olympus.

“This isn’t what my sister would have wanted,” he said. “She—”

“Don’t you dare talk about her!” His voice continued to rise. “You don’t know her— you don’t know what she would have wanted!”

“She couldn’t have wanted this!” he exclaimed. Percy’s breath caught momentarily as the scorpion inched closer and he forced his muscles to remain as still as possible as his gaze flicked back over to Luke. “This isn’t the way to fix things, Luke. I promise.”

He shook his head, and he could have been a son of Ares the way fire seemed to blaze in his eyes. “She died because of Zeus, Percy. She was so close to sixteen, and that meant she was a threat to his power. He sent monsters to kill her, and your dad could have saved her, but he didn’t do a damn thing about it. And y’know,” Luke huffed a laugh, cold and mirthless, “the same thing’s gonna happen to you.”

His blood had turned to ice. “He knows the pain of losing a daughter. Why would he—”

“Because they don’t care, Percy!” he yelled, his sword cutting through the air again. “All they care about is keeping their power and their position. Your dad would rather send you on a death quest than stop stroking his ego for one measly second. Hades sent monsters to kill Thalia, and Zeus sent monsters to kill your sister—they can’t punish each other, so they punish us, and the cycle will never stop until we make it stop.”

“And you think that this is the way to do it?” he asked desperately. “By betraying camp and all your friends? We’re in the same position as you are!”

“And anyone that’s smart will join our cause,” Luke said. “Do you really think I’m the only one that’s upset with the gods? I’ve been here for five years—I’ve seen kids leave for the school year and never come back. I’ve seen kids die without ever being claimed. My own dad turned me away at every opportunity. Our numbers are bigger than you know, Percy.”

“You say I don’t know my sister,” Percy said, “but I know her enough to know she wouldn’t want this. Not in her name. Not against our father.”

“You don’t know her at all,” Luke said, voice trembling. “If she knew that Zeus killed her for nothing but paranoia over a bullshit prophecy, she would be fighting against the gods right beside me.”

“I lost her once,” he continued, shaky but full of anger, “and then I got her back, just to lose her all over again. The gods will never know that kind of pain—if they did, they wouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.”

The scorpion was at his knee now. Percy was running out of time, and his mind was working in overdrive on how to get more, but he found himself rendered speechless. What could he say to a boy who’d lost everything?

Luke was the lightning thief, he’d fully intended to kill Percy with those shoes, he meant to turn the gods against each other and raise Kronos, and now he was really trying to kill him.

And yet, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy.

Percy thought he’d lost his mother, but now she was back. He’d met his father in person. He had a sister he’d never meet, that he would never be able to fully grieve. Luke loved her and grew up with her and grieved her twice.

Percy didn’t care—anyone who his sister loved couldn’t be a bad person. Not fully.

“Please, Luke,” he said, voice low. “I don’t know how to solve it, but this isn’t the way. You think the gods are using you? Kronos is doing the exact same thing.”

“You’re twelve, Percy, and you’re already the chosen one,” Luke said. “Hades and Ares would have both killed you if they got their way, and it was your job to stop a war between the gods because they couldn’t see beyond their egos. How is that fair to you?”

“There was no other choice,” Percy insisted. “If either of them backed down, they would look weak. We’re the only ones that can do quests like this.”

“Exactly,” he said. “They start petty fights that they can’t finish and it gets taken out on us. We have to be their heroes, and we have to praise them as we die.”

Percy remembered their bus exploding. Medusa, an innocent woman favored by Poseidon and punished by Athena for it. The endless souls in the Asphodel Fields, and even more waiting in line for their chance to be judged. Luke’s quest given to him by his father permanently scarring him, Thalia Grace sacrificing herself for her friends, his sister never getting the chance to see sixteen—Percy himself being used as a pawn to enact Kronos’s plan.

“You don’t have to be a hero,” Luke continued, almost begging at this point. “You can join our cause—you can prove you’re so much more than the prophecies want you to be. Say the word and I’ll call it off.”

Percy wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of godly respect. He tricked Hades, insulted Zeus, and actually fought Ares. But his dad loved him—or loved his mom, at least. Annabeth’s determination and Grover’s steadfastness and all the friends he’d made at camp—all innocent children like himself. He couldn’t turn his back on that.

Percy clenched his jaw. “I will never serve Kronos.”

Pain flashed in Luke’s dark eyes, but he shut it down just as soon. “So be it.”

He slashed his sword through the air and a ripple of darkness appeared, the void bleeding into the forest.

“I really am sorry it came to this, Percy,” Luke said quietly. “But it’ll be quick. And that’s a bigger mercy than Zeus gave your sister.”

Luke disappeared into the darkness and it vanished soon after. Percy didn’t have time to think about his words—the scorpion had reached his thigh. Sixty seconds, Luke had said, then it was over.

Percy had about five seconds to think of a plan before it lunged at him. He batted it away with one hand and uncapped his sword with the other, cutting the scorpion in half before it could reach the ground.

He thought he did it. Then he looked at his hand, a red welt already sweltering on his palm, oozing sticky yellow liquid.

Percy stumbled to the creek and submerged his hand, but nothing happened. He muttered a delusional prayer to his dad, then to his mother, then to you as he stumbled his way towards camp. Nymphs emerged from their trees, and he croaked a plea for help.

As Percy collapsed, barely caught by nymphs on either side, he swore that he saw you. Did that mean he was dying? You had kind eyes like his mother, an aura of warmth unlike the feverish heat in his body, and it made the idea of it a lot less scary.

He wondered if he’d meet you in Elysium.

Percy reached a leaden arm out to you, mumbling your name despite his cottonmouth, and then his vision went black.

#the difference between luke w hurricane and luke post hurricane hurts me and im the one in charge of this whole operation #makes me feel a little crazy tbh #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

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beaulesbian · 3 months

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🌘☀️ Some thoughts on Zoro & Luffy and their connection to gods and demons☀️🌒

This post started at first with just a few points about Zoro in the context to Asura/ King of Hell but since then it somehow evolved into connecting bits and pieces between Zoro & Luffy parallels again, I just can't help it, sooo...long post ahead.

Wano + Egghead spoilers

I always love remembering this one of the very first scenes where we (and Luffy) first hear about Zoro, and in the context of Zoro being a Pirate Hunter, even described as a demonic beast or as Koby says "demon in human form." None of this discouraged Luffy upon hearing this, on the contrary - he thought that if he sees for himself if Zoro was a good guy, he would be a great addition to his crew, and then went out of his way to seek him out! And only later we got the explanation that Zoro just couldn't find his way back home. "Roaming the seas" meant surviving for him, bounty hunter meant getting by in life with the skills he knew the best - swords, which is kind of sad when you think about it, but all the more interesting that it was Luffy who found him in Shells town,

where Zoro, a nonbeliever of any gods of higher power, was bound to a cross, and the first thing Luffy pointed out was "he's smiling".

I like to think that the smile might have been one of the first signs important enough for Luffy to choose someone for his crew - not only the kindness that followed when Luffy saw Zoro eating the dirty rice ball, but the smile that's by itself also very connected to Luffy himself:

After that first fight they won together, already reading each other so well, Zoro was the first one to call Luffy his captain (and later at Baratie also the first one to call him the future Pirate King!). He was someone who already fully believed in Luffy's future of reaching his dream without questioning it, perphaps because their drive towards their goals and dreams was very similar. And Luffy was the one who freed Zoro and let him have his swords - his biggest treasures - and gave him back the possibility to go into the world to actually follow his dream!

"One day, he'll show up and take you out under the sun, to the freedom of the sea!" - ch. 1095, Buccaneers about Sun God Nika (flashback with Kuma)

Fast forward to Wano - it's incredible how entangled their stories are with belief in always striving to do better/be stronger/try again next time for Luffy, someone who doesn't care what others think - he just needs to do what he wants and to be free - only for him to awaken his Devil Fruit and his God Nika powers; and for Zoro (a non-believer/apatheist) with how determined he was to successfully wield Enma so he could defeat King the Wildfire even to the lengths of becoming the King of Hell if that was what needed to be done to get Luffy one more step towards being the Pirate King.

Which brings me back to Demon Asura Zoro and where we saw this form throughout the manga:

This whole post started at first as a parallel to my other post about Zoro not really being shown to react to Luffy's Gear 5 (yet, as of chapter 1109), and I kept thinking about Zoro's Asura technique and how he used it so far only three (!!!) times, and there weren't many reactions from the strawhat crew either.

First one was during the Enies Lobby against Kaku, who even calls that vision 'demon-god' (ch. 417). If I remember Zoro was there by himself with Kaku, his crew each fighting other opponents elswhere:

The second time was during their first visit to Sabaody Archipelago, ch. 510, where it was the whole crew against the Pacifistas. The only bigger reactions were Brook and Chopper ("So many Zoros!!" - how cute!)

Luffy went right after Zoro with his last attack against the Pacifistas, so he's either seen Zoro's attack or it just wasn't the time or place to react, which, fair.

and then, third and last time so far Zoro went into his Asura form, it was up against Kaido, ch. 1010, when Luffy was out of it and Kaido was threatening how he would end Luffy in various ways.. which only angered Zoro more ("That's my captain!" - yeah, tell him, Zoro!)

All of these three times we've seen Asura, it was against few of the most dangerous opponents and all three times Zoro had his bandana on, being serious about it. All three of these times he knew his whole crew was fighting for their lives too and were in very real danger. Enies Lobby really changed the tone of the next few arcs with how serious things were about to go; Sabaody was just after Thriller Bark with Zoro being still injured and he knew what Kuma/Pacifistas were capable of - there was real fear and despair. And of course, on Wano against Kaido,. he saw how much damage Luffy took, Zoro could only hope to put more wounds on Kaido to count in their favor.

Zoro knew he had one last attack to try and make some difference in this fight - and this was before his fight with King, so he wasn't fully in sync with Enma yet, but it was good enough to unlock Asura technique - with something more to it.

Apparently along with his haki - not just the armament or observation haki, but the supreme king haki, as Kaido himself is shocked to find out. Zoro wasn't even consciously aware of having/using this haki.

Even the wiki mentions this as Zoro adding the supreme king haki to his Asura attack to strenghten it, or possibly was only able to unlock this technique because of having supreme king haki - meaning he was possibly using it even in both of those pre-time skip situations mentioned above.

The supreme king haki is something people can't learn, but are born with, meaning Zoro probably didn't know until Wano (and still wasn't sure what he did), but possibly learnt to use it instinctively - very much like Luffy on Amazon Lily.)

I already made a post that touched a bit on King of hell Zoro, and other parts around Asura (clearly, i'm never done thinking about that), with a very big possibility/hints that he could come from lineage of people of the D. (asura - enemies of gods - people of D.) - especially if it's connected to supreme king haki as inherited ability (although that isn't confirmed in the manga, as far as I understood).

This brings me to Zoro's family, and specifically Ryuma.

Wano was a great arc that connected things from Thriller Bark -with Zoro returning the legendary sword Shusui back to Ryuma's grave where it belonged.

There was an interesting panel at the end of Wano, where people were celebrating Luffy's victory over Kaido, but were given the name Joyboy as their savior - possibly Momonosuke's doing as Luffy told him not to mention him by name because Luffy didn't want to be a hero.

And in this panel, the peple are comparing this feat of victory to the legendary "God of the Blade" - which is another title for Ryuma.

It's so curious how Zoro is connected to Ryuma, even through span of many centuries and countries across, but still there is that connection, on top of actually fighting Ryuma's zombie on Thriller Bark, and Zoro isn't even aware of it. We only know about it from the SBS corner of Oda mentioning Zoro's family. (SBS corner in vol. 105. Ryuma wasn't mentioned there precisely, but the name Shimotsuki being of Zoro's grandmother and others from Wano, it makes sense they're Ryuma's descendants):

Side note: There's also something really beautiful of how the Shimotsuki line was passed down on Zoro from his grandmother - and his promise he cherishes since childhood being tied to Kuina, someone who wanted to be the greatest swords(wo)man - and therefore Zoro carrying Wado and that dream and promise for her.

Zoro & Luffy

Now to tie it all back to parallels with Zoro and Luffy - I love that there are always these small moment in how similar these two are - in their honest words and actions, in them believing in one another and believing even more in reaching their dreams, their crew and their strengths. In both being so directionally clueless and sometimes outright stupid, yet in certain situations (more so in battles and fights), they are the ones sometimes smartest and most strategic.

Then there's these other similarities between them: how much they don't care about what's told about them or -be it by luck or fate- how things work out in their favor in the end, usually. How both of them don't wish to be heroes, because heroes had to share (food and sake).

How there's that fact that Zoro doesn't know the full context of his powers, especially with his supreme king haki- or that he doesn't want to know the truth or put a name to that ability, because he fights with his swords and doesn't need to put belief of any other powers beside his own strength. (Or maybe he will soon learn how to use it to his (and his crew's) benefit.)

and Luffy, who doesn't know probably anything about Nika- and most likely wouldn't care much about them beside the scope of his new powers. The whole meaning of being something like "sun god" for others didn't register with him yet, and it might never be that important to him personally. Time after time, people around him mention luck or fate, or how people of the D. are the enemies of the Gods - enemies of the celestial dragons, but those don't really matter to Luffy because it doesn't change why he fights and why he needs himself and others to be free and achieve his dream.

How Zoro and Ryuma could be parallels to Luffy and Joyboy - one living in the present, reminiscent of those that lived centuries ago - something about the history always repeating.

When Zoro got to fight Ryuma on Thriller Bark, or even Hyogoro compares him to Shimotsuki Ushimaru (Zoro's great uncle),

and how Zunesha was waiting for Joyboy, how Roger and Oden found messages from Joyboy of his promises to return.

The parallels between sun god Nika and demon god/king Asura are so interesting in their opposites yet similarities. There's still so much we don't know about Nika or Joyboy, but Luffy himself isn't just the perfect picture of responsibility or justice. He's free, and that's the most important for him. He now has the power to do what he really wants to do with his powers, he unlocked that new potential to make it even more fun and even more dangerous against his enemies.

Even if Zoro's saying he doesn't believe in higher powers he embraces the powers that unlocked with Enma and getting him the title of King of Hell, he knows it would be the things that would keep him fighting for another minute, hour, day when it becomes necessary to protect Luffy and their crew.

Zoro may not believe in any gods but he believes in Luffy with all his being.

And in the similar vein, Luffy is the one who always believed in Zoro's strength and capability to protect the rest of their crew when it was necessary, times after time.

It's feels like it's not at all a coincidence that Luffy's whole crew is full of otherness and beings connected to hell/monsters/demons more than anything divine - because lot of the gods in One Piece are mentioned in context of standing above others and above common people - it's a bit flipped of what's good or not, or even more it's never clear because that's life, and those people are just claiming some titles. Eneru being the first example of a "god" the Straw Hats encountered, celestial dragons being called Gods, the Gorosei having each titles of "Godhead" - it's no wonder that Luffy's crew all fights for freedom and reaching whatever each of them needs to achive as their dream,

and includes: a dead man but living skeleton Brook; a demon child Nico Robin; Chopper "I don't mind being a monster for Luffy.'"; Sanji with all his hell fire and "diable" kicks and attacks, along with his non human strength and other abilities; Nami wielding the powers similar to Eneru without the need of both Devil Fruit or being called a goddess, and bringing down lightning on anyone who threatens her crew; Usopp and his powers of nature and plants sprouting new life and strengths from long distance; Jimbei - fishman and former Sun Pirate and also "First son of the Sea"; Franky the more cyborg than a man; and of course, Roronoa "I might as well become the King of Hell" Zoro.

It's not all so black and white, good or bad. Luffy is still everything that makes him Luffy - he's honest and selfish in his selflesness, kind and brave and stubborn, and always knows that Zoro (and his whole crew) has his back so he doesn't have to hold back.

And Zoro is still Zoro despite being able to wield some newer haki powers he's slowly discovering now. He's still getting lost and still is his stubborn self that puts the crew and Luffy above himself, and would follow Luffy into hell if that was needed.

Luffy and Zoro are "just" captain and his first mate, always throughout the story since the beginning. Orphans with such interestingly woven past and relationships around them, who grew up with a big dream they had to go and achieve it no matter what, and found someone just as honest, kind, powerful and trustworthy as they were. But there's that deep and fierce devotion that always borderlines on something beyond just good. They're pirates - because that means being free.

They can be chaotic and powerful, and find something divine in the loyalty of the demonic powers, and something hellish in the god-like entity bringing freedom.

It feels like something Roger said to Rayleigh when they first met - That it was a fated meeting.

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harmshake · 5 months

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All To Me: Chapter One

Golden knows better than to stay entangled with Roman...but he makes it too good to leave.

Roman Reigns x Golden (Chubby!Black!OC) | 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut | 1,715 words

Happy reading! Read Chapter Two and my other Roman stories here, if you'd like. ✨

youtube

There were a dozen other places Golden could have found herself after that vicious fight with her boyfriend, well, now ex-boyfriend. And yet she found herself in Joe's bedroom.

Her small wrists were locked by his huge, slightly rough hands that roamed her curvy, soft body before he pinned her down. His smooth, full lips were on her cheeks as they kissed away her tears and kissed her lips. Her thick, brown thighs were clamped around his waist as he gave her a new, better reason to cry. His sweet, deep voice was luscious in her ear as he cooed warm words that made chills fall down her spine.

"I got you, baby. I'll always take care of you. Let Daddy make you feel good."

Golden seemed to end up here often when things didn't go right with her ex. She'd break up to make up and do it all over again with so many stops at Joe's doorstep in between that he would question why she kept going back to him, and why she kept leaving him.

To her, they were simple questions that had simple answers. Joe wasn't any better. He wasn't Golden's ex-boyfriend, per se, but he wasn't her friend, either. Something in the middle, something confusing, wonderful, frustrating, wrong, and delicious. They didn't see or text each other enough to be close like that. For obvious reasons, like her relationship with (ex) boyfriend and Joe's insane work schedule.

However, there was a third reason. Joe seemed to only ever be available for these sessions to exercise her muscles that her ex neglected until they pleasantly ached—and exorcise her demons which she was certain he was one of. Mainly from the way he could make her lose her mind for a few hours, and when she came eventually to, he was the sole thought on it with flashbacks that made her squeeze her thighs together...yet she wouldn't hear from him until the next time.

Yet Golden came back time and time again, moaning and writhing underneath him, loathing and loving every minute of him gripping her body as he huddled her up on the bed, her knees almost touching the pillows behind her head. He pounded in her with focused, hammering strokes that laced her tongue with his name, poisoned her blood with another orgasm that felt so fucking sinful, so good she wanted to hide from it, from him. But Joe wouldn't let her, grabbing her chin to make her look into his eyes as he claimed what energy Golden had tried to preserve for herself.

"Unh unh, baby. Eyes on me. Give it all to me...mmm, just like that. Let Daddy hear it..."

Once he gave the parts of himself he allowed to her, slipping it out from her wet warmth and wiping it away from her belly, it was over. Yet he did hold her hand as she got ready to leave, standing next to his bed as he reclined on it still naked like he wanted to seduce her into staying.

That was the confusing part about him as Joe seemed to want her but when it was convenient. She couldn't even fault the man for it because she was here for the same reason. But Golden knew better than to pretend to play house with him, let him cook her breakfast in the morning, and butter her up with kisses and hugs before they parted ways...although, if they could figure it out, maybe she would stick around. Maybe.

"Outta here already?" Joe asked as his thumb caressed her knuckles. He glanced at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand before his brown eyes met hers again. "It's goin' on two. You might as well spend the night."

"No, that's okay. I should go," Golden muttered and attempted to withdraw her hand but his grasp got a little tighter. She sighed but her plump, brown lips quivered with a grin when his did, too.

"You got a hotel you sleepin' at tonight? I know you not goin' back home."

"Going to my friend's house."

"When you gonna stop doin' that?" He dropped her hand now and tucked it with his other behind his head that rested against his headboard.

"Doing what?" Golden knew exactly what he meant but she didn't want to go there with him for the hundredth time.

"You know what," Joe called her bluff. "You come over here, get what you want, and head out."

She let out another sigh, deeper as she was too exhausted for two arguments in the same evening. "You know why."

His face scrunched up as he furrowed his thick brows and shot her a playful glare. At least she hoped it was playful. "Don't mean you can't spend the night..." Joe sucked his teeth and said with a smirk as he reached for her when she started to retreat to the door.

His hands wrapped around her waist to tug her down onto his bed and on top of him. Golden tried to hide her face and her reluctant smile in the crook of his neck and tatted shoulder, but he was quicker and stronger as he cupped her chin and met her deep brown eyes. The seriousness that deepened his gaze sent that trembling chill through her body, especially as he added in a hushed tone, "Are you gonna get back with him?"

"No," Golden whispered immediately. It felt like the truth this time.

"Then stay with me," Joe mumbled then pressed his lips to hers, moving them thoroughly, slowly, and coaxing a whimper from her when his tongue sought hers a few tender kisses later. His fingertips fondled her short, dark coils and then glided along her back, slipping beneath her sweatshirt to feel her warmth in his hands before those fingertips slid under the hem of her leggings to palm her round ass. Golden's hands shot away from his bare chest and down to where he was trying to pull off her leggings...but it was a late and pathetic effort as she let his fingers dip into her delicate, moist folds, making her moan to him instead of telling him to cut it out.

"You gon' stay with me?" Joe asked once more, huskily with a moan of his own from her pussy getting gushy and contracting around his fingers after he gingerly pushed two of them inside her.

"Joe..." Golden breathed his name, wishing there was some authority to it, but her head spun as he nudged at her g-spot with persistence.

It was the same persistence she heard in his voice as he growled to her, "Golden. Stay with me," before he rolled her onto her back. Her leggings hit the floor for a second time tonight as he hooked her thighs over his broad shoulders, his kisses still thorough as they devoured her pussy, still soft and puffy from his pounding, his thick tongue finding every groove of her supple folds, giving long licks to every spot that begged for it.

Her back arched from the bed as she clutched one of his pillows with her left hand and his long, black, and silky hair with her right. She whined curses at him for being fucking stubborn, for being alluring with his mouth, refusing to let her go as he tempted her over and over with the words "Stay with me, baby..." between suckling on all of her until Golden could no longer hear him, only her raspy moans as she fluttered and flooded in his mouth and down his beard.

She closed her thighs around his head but that quicker and stronger grip of his gently dug into her flesh, spreading her and keeping her open for his tongue which licked up her nectar for as long as he wished, even when she squirmed and cried. Joe came up for air with precious smooches over her sweatshirt on her pudgy belly and breasts once she stopped fighting him and snatching at his hair, nestling himself between her legs with his hot, bulking body covering her before his mouth covered hers for a wet, messy kiss that tasted like her.

"Beautiful..." Joe murmured on her lips like it was his final plea.

Golden still had her fingers woven through his wavy locks that fell around her face as she held him to her, wishing she could be annoyed with him but she was too tired, too satiated, to do anything but murmur back, "I'll stay."

She knew it was a bad idea. She knew it would solve none of the bigger issues she carried into his bedroom. But she also knew she couldn't leave when Joe made her feel like the world would end if they stopped touching now.

His hand was around her throat after he used it to yank off the rest of her clothes, making her gasp his name to him. Her nails clawed up and down his back, making him sigh to her. His body was melted into hers as they grinded together, making love, or something like that, to each other.

"You all mine now, sweetheart?" Joe grunted to her through a groan when Golden lost herself on his thick dick buried in her, his tongue buried in her mouth, too, with more of those messy kisses that stole her sense.

"Yes-y-yesyesss, Daddy!" Golden sobbed and groaned back, so blissed out she wasn't sure what she was even saying anymore. It was only when she lay next to him, his giant arm thrown over her waist to secure her to him as he lightly snored, that her eyes stared into the gentle darkness of his bedroom, realization poking her awake when her weary body tried to doze off.

She couldn't be Joe's. Not now, not anytime soon, or perhaps never.

There was too much baggage, too much mess, and not enough time to clean it up when he'd be hopping on a plane early tomorrow afternoon for work. Nonetheless, Golden finally drifted to sleep despite every alarm sounding off in her head with one thought to silence them all.

After five long years on and off with her ex, and seven longer years of whatever she was with the enticing man beside her, it was time she at last belonged to herself.

No matter how good it felt to be held by Joe.

Thanks for reading! 💜

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kookslastbutton · 11 months

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Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m)┃ch. IV

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,174

Warnings: 8-year age gap, professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), jungkook snaps, lots of family drama, mommy issues, oc being accommodating, fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues but trying to be good hubby, jk gives oc more hope!

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: this week's flashback hint–nothing like a little dilf rivalry! Also, this chapter gives more of a reason why jk is adverse to parenthood 😶 My closing notes offer some explanations. Let's go! 💞

<< ch. III ༓ ch. V >> | series masterlist

For the first 22 years of your life, you had zero partners.

Most people labeled you as being jaded, stuck up, or having too high of standards for it. But fuck it. Why couldn’t anyone accept that you weren’t about to settle down with the first interested guy just 'cause of peer pressure?

Of course, you'd likely end up with someone eventually. You have gone out on a couple of dates before. Yet they were never that promising. The men, or excuse you, boys roughly your age did nothing to woo you. They just wanted a late-night fuck at 1 a.m. or a nice, cute girl to take home to their mom.

Not that you gave a hell what others were into or anything, but you had other agendas. Getting married and birthing children before kick-starting your adult life was not in your playbook. Neither was jumping into bed with random guys every week.

So you haven't had much luck in the romance department. Good riddance to it!

What you were waiting for was a gentleman. Someone that was responsible, mature, and experienced. Bonus points if they were into the arts. But it was rare to find a suitor of such quality–who wasn't ridiculously off-limits that is. Obviously, some other strong-willed man or woman sunk their claws in before you got the chance. Drats.

4 years ago

“I can’t believe you,” your best friend giggles. “You’re going to that fancy new art exhibit downtown just to run into Dr. Kim! You’re so shameless __.”

You roll your eyes and stick your plate in the dishwasher. You’re best friend Na-Rae has been one of your closest friends since your second year of undergrad. Now into your third year of friendship, you consider her as close as a sister.

Unlike you, Na-Rae is utterly fascinated with all things STEM-related. She’s currently in med school aiming to become a surgeon, which is one of the many reasons why you and her are currently roommates.

“I’m telling you one more time, I’m not going for him. I actually want to see the paintings which should come as no surprise to you. Dr. Kim just happens to be going too.”

Na-Rae leans against the kitchen island, tongue in cheek. “If that’s what you wanna tell yourself, babe. But how, may I ask, did you know he’d be there? Are you stalking him online now?”

“Of course not. I’m not a creep Na-Rae.” You throw her a dirty look. Honestly, she really thinks you’re some obsessed fangirl. Like yes, Dr. Kim is really hot for an older guy, and the fact that he’s basically the second dean of the art department? He may or may not visit you in your dreams. Especially after studying for Dr. Jeon’s fifteen million econ exams.

Now there’s a guy who definitely knows how to stick it to you.

“Besides,” you continue. “Dr. Kim doesn’t have social media.” You don’t notice how contradictory that statement sounds until your best friend lets out a sinister cackle.

“Looked him up did you?” She hits your arm, wiggling her eyebrows tauntingly. “I knew it! I knew you were stalking him!”

“I–I am not! Stop that!” You ignore her looks, seeing it best to avoid eye contact altogether.

"Iovmererdhimalkingintheallway."

"C'mon, you know I can't understand that. You did what?"

"I over…heardhimalkingintheallway," you repeat, skirting most of the sentence again.

"For the love of might __! Why are you being so–"

"I overheard him talking in the hallway!" Once you blurt the words out you scurry out of the kitchen. "Gotta get my laundry, bye!"

"Uh-__!" Na-Rae races to catch up to you. "Explain to me how that's not being stalkerish!"

You grab your laundry basket and set it next to the dryer. "It wasn't intentional alright? I happened to be passing by at the right moment." You pop the door open, stuffing your clothes in the basket. Na-Rae casually watches you from the doorway.

"Right," she says. "Just happened to overhear Dr. Kim's whereabouts on a Friday night and just happen to be going to the same place. But definitely not planned because the dress you're currently trying to hide from me isn't meant for him to coincidentally see. Oops, my bad."

You release said dress from your hand aggressively. "Dr. Kim is at least a decade older than me and he's a high-level faculty member of the university. I'm not seriously trying to present myself to him in any romantic sense. That would be so inappropriate! And as far as the dress goes, it's the grand opening tonight. Everyone's wearing these kinds of things. So no, you're wrong."

"Very well, if the lady persists," Na-Rae shrugs, checking her phone. "Shoot, I gotta get to work in fifteen but I expect a full report later!" You watch as she hustles to her room.

The exhibit's doors open at 7 pm sharp. The line to the entrance runs about three blocks which is far longer than you were expecting. Most people came in groups or pairs, making you wish Na-Rae didn't have to work tonight.

But you're right about this being a formal affair. Everyone is dressed to kill. Some lean more towards black tie while others choose to show off their highly expressive, avant-garde nature.

You look down at yourself, suddenly feeling quite underdressed. You're wearing a simple black dress that's cinched at the waist. If one were to look close enough they'd see hints of gold throughout but no one would get that close.

The artwork itself is stunning. Varying from abstraction to impressionism, you get a sense of pleasure in taking in others’ inspiration. Many of these works are from locals in the area which is one of the main reasons for the number of interested guests. You wonder if anyone here knows the artists directly.

You make your way to the next set of pieces, studying the first in line. You immediately recognize the particular style as post-impressionism. It's clear the artist has great influence by Van Gogh evident from the similar large yet controlled strokes.

As you continue observing the work you feel a second body, looming close beside you. Naturally, you shift your eyes over to see the source. His hair brushes past his face as he leans closer to the painting.

After about three seconds you quickly dart your eyes away, careful not to stare. The man appears to be equally as focused on the work in front of him, as you were. It'd be a bit embarrassing if he noticed your gaze and snapped at you for it.

The man next to you slowly straightens his bent-over posture. He moves to the other side of you, viewing the next painting on your right. You barely catch the slight glance he gives you in the process, now able to see his full face.

It's not Dr. Kim–it's Dr. Jeon.

This isn't weird, you try convincing yourself. It's perfectly normal for you to see your professor in public. Besides, who knows if he actually recognized you yet. No need to make this awkward if you simply pretend not to notice him.

You think about whether to sneakily slip away or continue to feign ignorance until…

"Are we going to keep side-eyeing each other or can I say hi?" Dr. Jeon lightly smiles at you with playful eyes. His glasses are different today–thinner design. And oh, is that a...lip ring? Is that new or has he always had it? You don't remember seeing it before. "If you keep staring at my lips like that I might get shy."

"Ahha, Dr. Jeon!" You fight the stirring of your nerves. "Hi! Sorry, I didn't mean to stare or anything. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Please, __. Outside of class, Jungkook is fine. Though I understand if that's a little out of place for you."

A little?! You've been calling Dr. Jeon, well, Dr. Jeon for the past two weeks. It's unlikely that will change. "If it's alright with you," you start, hands restless. "I'd like to stick with the usual."

Jungkook nods, giving you a brief once-over before replying. "Sure, no problem. I'm hoping you'll warm up to the idea though. Dr. Jeon makes me feel old." He lets out a throaty chuckle. "I'd ask what brings you to this art exhibit but I think I have the answer, given the amount of sketches I see you doing while I'm lecturing."

Oh god. Your professor calling you out for both gawking at his lips and doodling in class under the span of five minutes? You've never wanted to disappear more. The sketches you do aren't meant to look like a distraction and honestly, you didn't mean to gawk at the tiny ring, it was just there!

"Sorry," he continues. "That wasn't intended to be passive-aggressive. I really don't mind as long as they don't hinder your learning. Dr. Kim does the same thing whenever I'm talking to him too. I've summed it up to an itch all you artists have. I've come here in support of him actually." He gestures to the collection of paintings next to you; the post-impressionism ones you were intent on studying earlier.

"Oh wow," you gasp stupidly, following his gesture. You didn't even clue in to read the artist's name.

Stigma by Kim Taehyung.

"I had no idea Dr. Kim had some of his work displayed here. I feel so foolish. I was viewing his pieces for I don't know how long just a few minutes ago."

You were sure Dr. Kim was attending the exhibit for the same reasons as you. But while it was partially right, you obviously missed the biggest point.

"Don't fret," a deep, honey-coated voice comes from nowhere. "Any admirer of my work is a friend of mine." He strolls up to your left, Jungkook still on your right. "I don't believe we've met yet. Dr. Kim Taehyung." He tosses a hand out for you to shake.

Oh no, no no no. You hope to death you won't start sweating. You've never been this close to Kim Taehyung before and he wants you to hold his hand! "Pleasure to meet you Dr. Kim. I'm __," you say, struggling not to burst inside.

Okay, so it's not exactly holding hands but it's close enough. His fingers are so long and elegant. You can't wipe the grin off your face.

You're squeezing it now, stop stop stop. You mentally slap yourself and retract your hand as naturally as you can. Thank fuck no one can read your mind.

"I'm sorry your name is __?" Dr. Kim freezes as if suddenly needing to remember something. When you think he's recalled whatever it is he needs, he flicks his head over to Jungkook with a twinkle in his eye. "__," he repeats aloud.

"Uhm, yes..." You're definitely missing something. You look between the two men, apparently both intent on keeping you in omnious silence. What's so facinating about your name?

Taehyung whips his head back to face you, flashing a blinding grin. "You're the little artist in Jungkook's class aren't you?"

That's what this is about? He looks far too proud of himself for connecting those dots.

"Yeah I take ECON 602 with Dr. Jeon." You make the mistake of looking at Jungkook mid-sentence. For some odd reason, his previous mirthful expression has changed to one of bitter distaste.

"She isn't little," Jungkook intrudes, nearly snapping at the older man. "Little is what you call a child and it's inappropriate for you to call her that."

What the hell....? How is Dr. Kim calling you little bothering your professor more than you?

"My apologies," Taehyung says. "But she's your student, right? The one drawing during your lectures? I think she drew you once. Exquisite may I add. You captured his pissed-off look so well." He gives you a pleased look but you're too sheepish to form a reply.

"Yes, I wasn't having the best day. Can I talk to you a moment Dr. Kim? We'll be right back __, just a second." Jungkook grabs the older's arm, yanking him out of your earshot.

"What the hell are you doing, Taehyung?" Jungkook spits. "You're making my student uncomfortable."

"Aha, so she is the artist. Look I admit that using the term little was a misstep but I think she's alright. I apologized didn't I?"

"Yeah sure, but she's not alright." He makes air quotes. "Since you've also made it seem like anything she does in my class, I spill to you! Don't you see how uneasy that would make someone feel? Especially me being her professor. She could be thinking I tell you weird things too! See what you've done?!"

"But Jungkook," Taehyung drawls, face scrunching. He's not sure what's gotten Jungkook so worked up. "You do in fact regurgitate everything to me. You've been talking about her for the last week just to one-up me that she's an artist. Now I get to have a face to the name. I'm kinda tickled about it but also, what weird things are you referring to?" Taehyung pauses, eyes going as big as a saucer. "Oh my god, bro. Are you–"

Jungkook grunts firmly, shutting the man up at once. "Absolutely not Tae. Whatever you were about to say, it couldn't be a bigger no. All I'm asking is for you to keep the private things private. I don't want you blubbering everything to her."

"Very well," Taehyung hums, stealing a glance at you behind Jungkook's shoulder. From where he stood, he had an easy view of you moving down the line of paintings. You stop in front of each one, curiously examining them the best you can. "However, she's quite intriguing. I can't make any promises that I'll hold myself back."

"You better be talking about her mutual interest in art. She's my student and we have an obligation through the university not to fraternize with any–"

"Yes yes, your student. I don't need a reminder of where my boundaries are, but perhaps you do....bringing up fraternizing and all." Taehyung moves past Jungkook, striding back over to you. "Whatever else can there be besides professional or academic affairs? Of course, we're keeping our witts about us Kookie."

Behind him, Jungkook huffs and follows his lead. Then wipe that stupid smirk off your face, he thinks.

Present

Dinner is rough.

Jungkook's parents showing up unannounced and uninvited throws you both in a very quick, downward spiral. How can two people have so much time on their hands? Retirement, that's how.

You try your hardest to keep the conversation light throughout dinner, but it's obvious the air has grown thick between your husband and his mother.

"Why didn't you come to the reunion last year?" your mother-in-law presses for the second time tonight. She clutches the napkin in her hand, anxious for his response.

Jungkook sits across the table. His posture stiffens at the question. "I'm sorry, I had a lot to do. The reunion is always so close to when I have to go back to the university that I just didn't have the time."

A loud, impatient sigh comes from back across the table. "You didn't have the time or didn't make it? Honesty Jungkook, you expect me to believe that?"

When Jungkook doesn't answer, you and your father-in-law exchange troublesome looks. "Honey," Mr. Jeon speaks up, placing a hand on her shaky one. "You know how full the school year is for Jungkook. Don't blame him. Maybe he can come this year if we reschedule for a more convenient time." He pleads with his son, hopeful eyes.

"Stop helping him." She looks at Mr. Jeon and then back to Jungkook. "I don't think I'm asking for a lot. I just want you there, you and __."

At that, you find yourself gripping your husband's arm from under the table. Jungkook shifts in his seat and stares dead straight into his mother's eyes. "Funny you say that," he seethes. You tug on his arm in desperation to calm him. "Seeing that you keep dropping by at random times throughout the year, I'd say you expect a great deal from us."

Mrs. Jeon immediately snatches her hand from your father-in-law's. "Maybe I wouldn't have to if you'd come to the reunion. Or called, texted, or even emailed at this point. If it weren't for my efforts, I wouldn't hear from you at all."

"Please," Mr. Jeon pleads again, this time to both parties. "We're having dinner. Let's continue this later." He reaches for the bowl in the middle of the table but he's quickly ignored.

"You're right." Jungkook cuts. "Maybe I should come. Because it's one more way you can get what you want, isn't it? All those years of hard work so you can show me off to everyone."

"Don't you talk to me like that," Mrs. Jeon grits. "If I wanted to show you off it'll be when you give me a grandchild! I'm lucky to even have a daughter-in-law by now."

Chair legs scrape against the hardwood floor and your arm snakes out from Jungkook's arm. Your husband stands at the table, Mr. Jeon follows suit. "Okay, okay, let's just–"

"Dad," Jungkook interrupts. "Can you please take Mom home for the night?"

"Are you okay?" you pop the question once your in-laws leave for the night, a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Mrs. Jeon looked completely bewildered, whereas Mr. Jeon looked deeply troubled; conflicted between wife and son. You have a feeling he has a better understanding of what happened than you do right now.

"I wish she hadn't come today," Jungkook plops on the bed. You sit beside him. "I'm sorry about what she said about you....I knew she was here for something."

You won't lie. When Mrs. Jeon mentioned being lucky to finally have a daughter-in-law, it stung. You detest being seen as an achievement. "I'm sure she didn't mean it like that since she said it out of impulse. It was a tense moment," you say. "As far as what she was getting at though, it was for you to go to the reunion."

"No." He shakes his head and then glances at you. "It's not about the reunion. She only wants me to go so she can show everyone how smart and successful her son has become–all her doing of course. It's been like that since high school. And she wants you to go for a similar reason."

"I knew your mom had a bit of a thing for status but I thought that mostly revolved around her profession. Also, when she was talking earlier about you not keeping in touch she seemed more hurt and sad than mad. I think she really just wants you there."

"If she seemed hurt it's because she didn't get her way," Jungkook says, nonchalant.

"Jungkook."

"I'm sorry but it's true" He adjusts his position, angling himself to face you. "Mom's used to calling the shots– at work, at home, even with our neighbors growing up. You've seen how dad is around her. Yeah, he pushes back a little but at the end of the day, he does what's asked of him."

Frightened to ask the next question, you swallow hard. "What aren't you telling me Jungkook?"

He gently takes your hand from your lap, rubbing small circles on the knuckles. "Growing up, she was hardly around or involved in my brother and I's life. Most weeks, she and Dad would be at work, and we'd be with a babysitter or nanny. Dad did what he could to take care of us but Mom? All she would do is prune us to be just like her...smart, successful, and a dash more to make up for all the achievements she couldn't make."

"Jungkook...I don't know what to say," you murmur, trying to take everything in. "But your PhD–"

"My decision but her influence. Though she wasn't pleased when I said I'd be relocating ten hours away."

You remember him telling you this part before. His mother had a hard time coping with his reluctance to stay nearby. Maybe she did want him to follow in her footsteps. "Your brother didn't have as much pressure on him did he?"

"He did, but he still bends to her will. Except for the grandchildren part." Jungkook grimaces, averting eye contact. "I guess we have that in common."

"Hey," you urge him to lift his head. "Please don't feel bad about telling me any of this. If your picture of parents has largely been their absence and desire for self-fulfillment, then I understand your grounds for not wanting children. And as far as tonight with your mom, I'm so sorry. I feel like it's partially my fault for agreeing to host them for two days."

A pair of soft eyes rest on you in the dim room. The sun was near set now and all the light previously shining into the room had come from the window. If this wasn't a serious moment you might take a candid shot of your husband.

"You're the best thing that's happened to me __," Jungkook coos. "Don't ever think your kindness is a fault." He pauses then continues. "I still want both my parents in my life but I need to draw boundaries or I will completely snap and that's not something I want to happen. Especially since we have a possible baby to make one day."

"Hu–huh?" It's the repetition of the last sentence that makes you utterly dumbfounded.

Baby? Baby with Jungkook. One day?

Your husband draws his hand up to barely caress your cheek. "Why does that always seem to stop your heart?"

You catch his wrist mid-movement and throw yourself into him. Your arms link around his neck, chest flat against his. "It doesn't stop my heart," you say, playing with his hair. "It makes it beat faster."

"Wow." Your husband hugs you closer. "So cheesy." He leans back after, pressing a soft kiss to yours.

The two of you continue making out like teenagers again; Jungkook tumbling on his back.

"Kook." You lay on top of him, straddling his sides. "Have you ever thought about seriously talking to your mom about you know, everything you told me?"

Jungkook hums, before answering. "Somewhat but, I'm not sure how that'll go."

"It might be worth it instead of having little pieces slip out when you get into conflict...like tonight for instance."

"I suppose it's not a far-fetched idea. I'll consider it but it might take some more time. For now, I think I'll start by calling her tomorrow. I'm still mad but I don't wanna leave things the way they are now. Plus, I'm sure they don't have plans to go back home early. I'd hate for them to stay in the hotel the rest of these two days."

"Sounds like a plan," you say, snuggling into the crook of his neck.

"Mom." Jungkook holds the phone to his ear. "What are you and Dad doing today?"

"Oh, I–," his mom stutters from the other end. "We're not up to too much. I think your dad wants to swing by some bookstore around town. Uh, what about you?"

"__ at work and I'm home by myself. Are you hungry? I thought maybe we could go out for brunch."

Jungkook hears his mom's tone lift. "Are you sure? I mean that would be lovely but if there are things you need to do then we don't want to...impose."

Mrs. Jeon's sudden willingness to check in is unexpected. Jungkook still senses traces of guilt but at least she's making somewhat of an effort.

"It's my treat," he assures, a little shaky. "I'm sorry about yesterday, mom. Maybe we can talk about it more in person."

"I think that would be good," she agrees simply. "Where and what time do you want to meet up?"

"Drive over here in twenty minutes. We can pile in my car and head over."

Once finally agreed, Jungkook ends the call. He opens his messages and shoots you a text.

Jungkook: Well I did it 😬 [sent at 10:42 a.m]

__: Proud of you ❤️ if anything happens, call me. [sent at 10:44 a.m]

Jungkook: I will. Also, sorry to bring it up but I gotta give Yoongi hyung an answer by tomorrow. Are we babysitting his twins Saturday? [sent at 10:47 a.m]

__: Ahm, it'll likely be the evening, right? [sent at 10:48 a.m]

Jungkook: Probably [sent at 10:49 a.m]

__: I guess, sure. We're going to need to put some stuff away though 😅 And get something fun for them to do! [sent by 10:51 a.m]

Jungkook: Noted but I'm sure they'll bring lots to do. Yoongi hyung is a big sofie for his girls. He buys them everything–literally 🫠 [sent at 10:52 a.m]

__: True. I have to get back to work now but love you xoxo [sent at 10:53 a.m]

A/N: Surprise! jk has mommy issues and they've has been triggered. Was hoping how he talked, thought, & acted towards her in the last chapter gave hints. On the brighter side, jungkook is another step closer to babyville! And next flashback will be something exciting! Lmk if you wanna be tagged or have thoughts in comments or asks! 💞

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Taglist:

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ineedhaikyu · 5 months

Text

Chapter One

Summary: How does Asahi find himself in these situations? He wasn’t the tough and scary guy everyone made him out to be. Why can’t someone just give him a chance? That’s what he thought until he met her…

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: So much FLUFF! Dealing with self-doubt and anxiety. I didn’t write Atsumu’s slang dialogue but maybe I’ll edit in the future.

A/N: My contribution to Asahi x Reader content. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEST BOY!! GIF credit to @akaashikoutarou

Part 2

Today is the day. January 5th. Everyone’s hard work and determination will be put to the test on this day. A day where volleyball teams from all over Japan, the best from each prefecture, will meet with one another and have a chance to battle on the orange court.

Today marks Day One in the All Japan High School Volleyball Championship. Otherwise known as the Spring Tournament.

The victor of each battle will be one step closer to reaching the summit, a place that is only reserved for one winning team.

But until then, each team must go through the wringer and the emotional ties that come when playing the best of the best. Not only are the team members fighting for themselves to place a respectable standing in the tournament, they are also carrying the weight of their school’s pride and honor on their shoulders. The pressure that the Spring Tournament has always been great, but it’s even greater for those teams who are participating for the first time.

Teams such as the Karasuno High School Volleyball team.

A twelve member volleyball team from the Miyagi prefecture. For the past few years, Karasuno has fallen from their powerhouse status, but it seems that has all changed. Because now, here they are competing in the Spring Tournament for the first time in years.

Their methods of offense and defense were amazing to watch. It was almost too beautiful to describe but then again the concept is all the same: just keep the ball in play.

“(Y/N)-san!”

The third-year manager tore her gaze away from the orange court to meet with the familiar brown eyes of Miya Atsumu, the second-year setter of their volleyball team.

“Hey Atsumu.” She greeted the popular setter with a smile before scanning the area around them. “Where’s Osamu?”

“That scrub is probably stuffing his face.” He huffed as he stood next to her. His eyes peered down at the active court. “What are you even doing here?”

(Y/N) followed his gaze and smiled. “Just want to check out the competition. I’m curious as to who our next opponent will be.”

“Who’s playing?”

“Tsubakihara Academy and Karasuno High.”

Atsumu furrowed his brow at the mention of the latter school. He’s sure that Goody-Two Shoes setter came from there.

“Are they any good?”

He waited for her answer but when he didn’t receive one, the twin looked at her. Usually the older girl always had an answer for his questions, however silly the questions were. It was something Atsumu liked about (Y/N). No matter what silly antics he, his twin, and the rest of the volleyball team partook in, (Y/N) was always there to keep them in check. It was something Aran and Kita, her best friends, valued her for and the coach couldn’t agree more.

Of course, there were times she played along with their shenanigans. It was why she got along so well with everyone on the team. As a manager, the girl knew there were times to be serious but also to just enjoy the moments with the best team she ever had. Even the annoying moments of Suna and the Miya twins prying into her non-existent love life. Take the conversation she had with them from last week.

Flashback

“You rejected another guy, (Y/N)-senpai.” Osamu commented as he ate his lunch. “How many is that now?”

His twin answered for her. “I’m pretty sure that makes him Unlucky Schmuck #5. But that guy didn’t even have a chance.”

“Oh?” (Y/N) stopped taking her notes and decided to indulge in the conversation. “And why’s that? Kenji’s a nice guy.”

“Easy because he’s boring. You don’t want to date a boring guy, do you?”

“The most interesting thing about him is that he’s on the basketball team.” Osamu piped in, reaching over the table to get some of her chips. “He’s not even on the starting line up.”

“His last post was just a picture of the ocean.” Suna piped in, his eyes showed so much disinterest in Unlucky Schmuck #5’s profile account. He showed his phone to her. “See?”

“So? That doesn’t mean he’s boring. Besides, I like the ocean. That’s why I liked his post.”

Suna rolled his eyes and turned off his phone. He leaned all his weight over (Y/N)’s shoulder. “That’s because you’re nice.”

“Sometimes too nice.” She grumbled as she jerked her shoulder so Suna could get off her and then slap the gray haired twin’s hand away from her chips. She looked back at Atsumu and said, “But I’m still waiting for the right guy to come around.”

The setter grinned. “Then quit waiting because I’m right here.”

Osamu and Suna scoffed, which irked Atsumu. “Aren’t you Unlucky Schmuck #1?”

“Am not!”

“Got the video on my phone if you want to relive it again.” Suna smirked as he taunted Atsumu with a wave of his phone. The video was pure gold. No way was he going to delete it. He needed all the memories, especially embarrassing moments of the Miya twins.

“Well, I’m glad you three are so interested in my love life but I already have my hands full dealing with you guys. I don’t need a jealous boyfriend on top of your crazy fangirls. My anxiety would not be able to handle it. Besides, nationals are literally next week. ”

The twins pouted in unison when the manager mentioned their fangirls.

“Then get a guy who’ll understand. I’m sure there’s someone-”

“I’m right here-!” Atsumu exclaimed but was cut short when his twin hit the back of his head and at the same time Suna kicked his foot. “Quit abusing me!”

Suna ignored him and continued on. “Whoever this schmuck is, he’s going to be the luckiest guy in Japan.”

“He better be good at volleyball.” Atsumu grumbled, his head on the table. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Osamu joined his twin’s line of thinking. “Preferably from a powerhouse. The guy can’t be from a weak team. And cook some good food.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at the Miya twins. Of course, they would say something like that. She looked back at Suna and asked, “Do you have a requirement for my future significant other?”

Suna thought for a moment before answering her question. “As long as he cares for you.”

“Thanks Suna.”

“But the moment he hurts you,” Atsumu began.

“He has to deal with everyone on the team.” Osamu finished his brother’s sentence.

(Y/N) grinned at their protectiveness. “Thanks Unlucky Schmuck #1 and #2.”

“Hey!”/ “Don’t call me that!” The twins exclaimed in unison causing the middle blocker and manager to laugh once more.

End of Flashback

“Earth to (L/N) (Y/N)! Can you hear me, manager? This is future champion setter, Atsumu, speaking! Talk to me!”

(Y/N) blinked and tore her eyes away from the orange court. “Huh? What did you say?”

Atsumu narrowed his eyes and leaned close to (Y/N)’s face, causing the girl’s face to heat up. She quickly stepped back and looked away from the twin’s observant gaze.

“What?” She asked him.

“Who were you looking at?”

“No one in particular. Just Karasuno's team in general.”

She answered way too quickly and they both knew it. Atsumu grinned at his senpai’s poor attempt to lie. “Someone caught your eye?”

“Shouldn’t you be practicing your sets?”

“Oh no, don’t you avoid my question, (Y/N). Besides, my sets are perfect.” He turned his focus on the volleyball players that were still competing below. “Who’s the guy? Better not be that Goody-Two Shoes.”

(Y/N) furrowed her brow. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Karasuno’s #9. Kageyama Tobio.”

She looked at the roster and found the person Atsumu was talking about. She then looked back at the match that was still playing.

“Wait a minute. Is this the same Goody-Two Shoes that you met at the National training camp?”

Atsumu huffed and nodded. His eyes narrowed at the impressive set Tobio just did. “Yeah, that’s him alright. Piece of work that guy. Always setting the ball exactly how the spiker wants it. Such a Goody-Two Shoes.”

“Oh my god, Atsumu. He’s just a first year student. Give him a break.” She paused for a moment before she asked, “Did you actually call him a Goody-Two Shoes?

The Inarizaki setter was just about to answer when he saw the familiar glare on his manager’s face. “Of course not.”

“You’re such a liar.” She scolded him as she flicked his forehead. “You always have to psych someone out and cause trouble.”

“Whatever! It’s not like I hurt his feelings. I was just telling him the truth. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

Just as she was about to reply, there was the familiar sound of a volleyball being slammed to the ground. Soon after, the announcer’s voice echoed throughout the stadium. “And Karasuno’s ace, Azumane Asahi, just did a flawless service ace!”

(Y/N)’s eyes searched for the mentioned ace. #3. The third-year wing spiker. A guy with long brown hair styled in a bun. He looked older than the rest of the team with his tall and strong build and with the service ace earlier, Azumane has proven himself that he’s the ace of the team.

He looked intimidating, just like how Aran would like when he was on a roll. But for some reason, Karasuno’s ace, didn’t scare her.

‘It’s his smile. He has a beautiful smile.’ (Y/N) thought as she watched the ace high-fived his teammates. ‘It looks like he’s enjoying himself… Having the time of his life.’

The pair of students watched the match until it reached its conclusion with Karasuno winning the second set. Which means they’ll advance to the second round where they’ll face their own team. Tomorrow’s match: Inarizaki vs Karasuno. It will be an interesting match that would guarantee to excite the crowd.

“Well, at least we know who we’re going to beat tomorrow.” Atsumu’s eyes shimmered in excitement, knowing tomorrow’s match will be a battle between setters. He couldn’t wait to prove to everyone who the better setter was. “Come on, (Y/N), let’s get out of here. The team is probably waiting for us to go out for lunch.”

“Sure.”

As Atsumu led the way, (Y/N) looked over her shoulder where her eyes landed on the members of Karasuno’s volleyball team cheering for joy. The ace’s smile was infectious as she felt her own lips smile as well.

“Hey, Atsumu. You go ahead. I want to buy another T-shirt while I’m here. I’ll catch a bus to the hotel.”

“You sure? I can wait-” Atsumu’s stomach decided it was the perfect moment to announce its hunger out loud.

(Y/N) laughed as the setter tried to cease his stomach’s rumbling. “Just go, ‘Tsumu. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Fine! But hurry, will you? You know how ‘Samu gets when he’s hungry.”

The two parted ways. It always surprised her how large the crowd gets during intermission. She had to dodge and weave to avoid the hurdle of students carrying band instruments. She was successful and luckily the T-shirt stand was right there. There were so many options to consider and she was just about to make a selection when there was a sudden loud CRASH.

The noise caused her to stiffen in fright, she looked behind her to find someone had dropped a pair of cymbals.

“Can someone pick those up?” A girl asked her bandmates.

“I got them.” A bright-eyed boy volunteered.

(Y/N) remembered to breathe to calm her nerves as she gave the worker of the T-shirt stand a wobbly smile. “Can I have-”

“Hey, you! Look out!”

While the boy meant to be helpful, everything went downhill from there. When the boy bent down to pick up the cymbals, he accidentally bumped the nearby bass drum causing it to fall out of its little wagon. The large drum began to roll away, causing the crowd to panic.

(Y/N) looked behind her and saw that the drum was heading right towards her. She was just about to move when she felt a warm hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the way. She watched as two guys her age, one with dark hair and the other with silver hair, stopped the drum from crashing into the T-shirt stand.

“A-Are you okay, miss?” A male’s voice, deep with concern, asked her. “Are you hurt?”

“Y-Yeah. Thanks for that-” (Y/N)’s ability to talk disappeared when she saw the face of her hero. It was Karasuno’s ace, Azumane Asahi.

And he looked even more handsome up close. She had to step back - not because she was scared of him but because she could feel her heart going into overdrive being so close to the guy she was beginning to have a crush on.

“Miss?”

‘He’s talking to you, dummy! Talk back!’

“Oh, um, yeah! Thanks again.” (Y/N) gave him a smile. “You’re Azumane, right? From Karasuno? I just watched your match. You were amazing, especially with that service ace.”

Asahi’s POV

A girl was talking to him.

A pretty girl. Willingly talking. To him.

It was enough to cause his brain to short circuit. He waited for the girl to come to her senses and realize that she was supposed to be scared of him, like how everyone else he came across. But to his surprise, the pretty girl was still talking to him. She didn’t have an ounce of fear in her eyes and the gentle smile she gave him made him feel better about himself. And to make matters even better, she was giving him compliments.

And he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Daichi and Suga came up on either side of him and saw the girl. Asahi didn’t have to look at them to know his friends were giving each other a knowing smile behind his back.

The two introduced themselves to the girl who in turn introduced herself.

“My name is (L/N) (Y/N). I’m from Inarizaki High School in Hyōgo. I came here with my team.”

“You must be really good if you made it to Nationals.” Suga complimented.

She shook her head. “Oh no. I’m just the manager for the volleyball team. I was just telling your ace here how good your team is during your match.”

“We were nervous at first but we managed to get through this round.” Daichi told her. “The other team surprised us with that underhand serve.”

“Really? You manage to adapt to it very well.”

“We couldn’t have done it without this guy!” Suga slapped his hand against Asahi’s back. “Would you believe me if I told you he was single?”

“S-Suga!” He shouted in embarrassment. “W-Why w-would you say that?!”

“Oh come on, Asahi,” Daichi placed his hand on his shoulder. “It’s not like he’s lying. Besides, we're all single too.”

“Y-Yeah but that doesn’t mean she is.”

“Sorry to break the news but I’m single just like you.”

He was shocked to hear that the girl in front of him was actually single. She was breathtaking. Literally. And she was so nice to him.

“My team thinks otherwise. They keep pushing me to have a boyfriend, but I have my hands full managing them and their crazy fangirls. A jealous boyfriend isn’t something I need, you know?”

“Oh, well, that’s reasonable. Maybe you need to find someone who’s understanding,” Suga elbowed his side. “Right, Asahi?”

“U-Um yeah?” What is Suga up to?

“It’s a good thing there are guys, like Asahi, in the world. He’s actually quite sensitive. The only time he feels confident is when he’s on the court.”

“Daichi, what are you doing?” He whispered, the heat from his neck began to crept onto his face. Is his face red? Can she tell?

“Oh, no. Look at the time. Daichi, we need to go.” Suga announced, grabbing the captain’s shoulders and pushing him in a random direction. “We have that meeting with the coach. Right now. Remember?”

“That’s right, Suga.” Daichi gave him a knowing smile, a smile that he knew meant trouble. “Asahi, why don’t you stay here with (L/N)? Make sure she’s safe from any more runaway instruments.”

“It was nice meeting you two! Good luck tomorrow! You’re going to need it. The boys of the Inarizaki team love a good challenge. Don’t disappoint them.”

“Right back at you.”

He watched as his friends walked away, leaving him alone with the girl who caused his anxiety to skyrocket to a whole new level. Not even Kiyoko made him feel like this.

“You're lucky to have such good friends, Azumane.” She told him, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts. “I bet there’s never a dull moment when you three are together.”

He laughed as he rubbed his neck out of habit. “Been that way since we were first years. Though the first and second years bring all the crazy.”

“I know exactly what you mean. The second years on the team love making my life crazy. I love them but sometimes they can be a bit much. Especially during Nationals. Speaking of which, is this your first time?”

“Yeah. And with this being my last year, I guess I should be grateful that I’m even here.”

He was so lost in his own world of self-deprecation that he didn’t notice what she was doing. Not until her fist punched his chest. It wasn’t gentle or strong, somewhere in between, but her touch didn’t surprise him.

It was her eyes that surprised him. They seemed to shine with determination and, for some reason or another, inspire confidence. Even her voice was firm.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Asahi. Your team didn’t get here by chance. You all earned a spot here. You deserve to be here.”

Was it possible for a heart to beat so hard against a person’s ribs? Maybe it’s a medical condition? Because never before had he felt so anxious yet empowered. He wondered if (Y/N) could feel his heart underneath her hand.

“I’m not saying you should just get over yourself because we all have experienced some level of negative emotion in our lives, right? And it’s not as easy as turning a page in a book. Trust me I know. So believe me when I say this, it’s okay to express those feelings. Maybe one day, you’ll find solace in someone.”

There was another feeling. He couldn’t find a label for it, but he could describe it. A warm sensation that bloomed from his chest to every cell in his body the moment she said his name. Not his surname. His actual name. Asahi. His brain felt as though it had melted inside his skull. But by some miracle, he found his voice again.

“You… You think so?” He asked her. “About me being here?”

Why was he asking her this? Just a few minutes ago, she was a stranger. She could just lie to make him feel better but he had a feeling (Y/N) wasn’t like that.

“Are you kidding? I saw it with my own eyes.” She stepped back and mimicked a serve. The smile on her lips complimented the excitement in her eyes. “I’ve seen a lot of players these past three years, all of them possessing some kind of amazing skill. But you’re… Special.”

“Because I’m the ace?”

She smiled up at him. “That’s part of it, but if I’m being honest here I think you’re special even without the title of ace. The match from today proved it to me and I’m sure you’ll see it soon enough.”

“See what?”

“Your true self-worth.”

Normal POV

(Y/N) watched as Asahi mulled over her words and she hoped it gave him some confidence. While she didn’t know him all too well, Asahi looked like a nice enough guy. A bit self-conscious about his abilities, but hopefully she helped him loosen the strangling roots of insecurity that surrounded him.

Why did she care so much in helping him? Well, he did save her. The least she could do is give him some encouragement. She frowned at the thought. No… There must be something else she could do to give her thanks…

Her eyes wandered to the T-shirt stand and an idea was formed.

“Hey Asahi-san, let me buy you a T-shirt. It’s the least I could do since you saved me and all.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. Really. As long as you're okay-”

She shook her head, grabbed his hand, and led him to the T-shirt stand. “Come on, please. You can choose whatever shirt you like. Consider it a gift.”

“G-Gift?” Asahi stammered and she couldn’t help but find his stammering cute. “From you?”

A small chuckle escaped her lips. “Yes from me. It wouldn’t make sense if it was someone else. Let me do this for you.”

Asahi contemplated for a moment before agreeing. The worker of the T-shirt stand, who watched their interaction the whole time, was extremely kind to them as (Y/N) picked her choice as well. Asahi stood awkwardly by, waiting for the transaction to be finished.

“You two would make a cute couple.” The worker said, quiet enough so only she could hear. “You should go for him.”

“You think so?” (Y/N) asked as she discreetly peered over her shoulder to look at the guy who made her feel all warm and fuzzy.

“Believe it or not,” The worker handed her the two bags, hers and Asahi’s, “Before the whole chaos started, you already caught his eye. His two friends tried to get him to talk to you but I guess he was too nervous.”

(Y/N) smiled widely at this. Maybe he liked her too? She hoped so because the feeling was definitely mutual. Only one way to find out...

“Hey, do you have a pen and paper I can use?”

Turns out the two third-years were heading in the same direction. By some cosmic fate, Asahi and his team were staying at the inn right next to the hotel she was staying in with her own team. So during the whole bus ride there, they got to know more about each other.

Asahi learned about (Y/N)’s favorite foods, hobbies, and even her future dream of attending the university in Tokyo. He laughed at the stories she shared about the Inarizaki team members. And (Y/N) was happy to learn more about him. She learned that he was close to the libero of his team, he has taste in fashion, and that his birthday just passed four days ago.

All too soon, they reached their destination. They walked side by side until they reached the point where the path forked, one way led to her hotel while the other led to Asahi’s inn.

She turned to face him and flashed him another smile. “Thanks for your company, Asahi-san. It was really nice getting to know you.”

“Same here, (Y/N)-san.” Asahi replied, his voice no longer nervous around her. “And thanks again for the shirt. I’ll make sure to take care of it. I want it to last for years.”

“It’s no problem. After all, you did save me.” Her fingers rubbed the plastic material of her bag out of nerves. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Y-Yeah, see you.”

Asahi’s POV

With her back turned, there was sudden pull in his heart, as if begging for her to stay.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

He was surprised to hear his voice sound so firm but she brought that feeling out of him. He didn’t want her to leave. Not yet. He enjoyed talking to (Y/N). She was so understanding, kind, and ever so confident. Their time together felt so short but at the same time so long. Those moments with her… He wanted more of those moments.

And the moment his eyes met with her hopeful ones, he knew he had to at least try to ask for her number.

“Yes, Asahi?”

Oh, god. She looked so pretty… He wondered if (Y/N) knew the effect she has on him. The initial confidence he had was beginning to fade, but he steeled his nerves and took a deep breath.

“I was wondering, i-if it’s okay with you, that w-we could-”

“(Y/N)-SENPAI!” A guy with blond hair called out to her.

Right next to him was another guy, identical to the first only with silver hair, yelled, “WE’RE WAITING FOR YOU! I’M STARVING!”

“WHAT ‘SAMU SAID!”

‘They must be the Miya twins.’ He thought.

(Y/N) sighed before answering back, “Give me a minute!” She turned back and offered him a sheepish look. “Sorry about that Asahi. What were you saying?”

Over her shoulder, he saw the Miya twins frowning at him all the while staring daggers in his direction. His confidence, the little bit he had in supply, disappeared into thin air. He stammered out a reply, “Never mind. U-Um… Get a good night’s sleep. T-Take care of yourself.”

(Y/N)’s smile melted. Was that disappointment in her eyes? But she quickly recovered and offered him a bittersweet smile, “Oh, um, thanks Asahi. Good luck tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” She turned around and began to make her way to the twins when stopped in her tracks. “Oh, and Asahi-san?”

“Yeah?” He felt his heart hitch up to his throat when they made eye contact once again. Her eyes were a lovely shade of (E/C) filled with warmth and kindness.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself the next few days. Remember what I said. Your team is lucky to have you as their ace. So do your best tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll do great.” She glanced down at the plastic bag containing the shirt she bought for him. “I hope you like the shirt. Consider it a birthday gift from me.”

And with that, the girl he developed to have feelings for walked away, but not before she gave one last smile that made his heart expand three times its size.

“Asahi! You’re back!” Nishinoya’s loud voice echoed throughout the room where Karasuno's team was staying. “Is what Daichi and Suga are saying true? You met a girl?!”

Tanaka joined in his friend’s interrogation. “Yeah, Asahi! Daichi didn’t want to say anything but Suga said you saved her life!”

“Was she pretty?”

“What school does she go to?”

“What was she like?”

“What’s her name?”

“We need details!” The two second-years yelled out in unison. Their eyes shimmering in excitement as they waited for answers.

“Uh, w-well…”

“Alright, that’s enough you two.” Daichi grabbed their shirt collars and pulled them back. “Give Asahi a break. He’s had an eventful day.”

“Yeah, come on, Asahi, let's get you a drink from the vending machine.” Suga offered, his hand already pushing him out of the room.

“I’m not thirsty-”

“Yes, you are.” Suga interrupted. “Our treat. Well, Daichi’s treat since he’s buying.”

The trio of third-years walked downstairs and true to Suga’s words, Daichi bought them a round of their favorite drink.

“Okay, spill! Don’t leave out a single detail. I want to know everything.” Suga pressed, just as Nishinoya and Tanaka were a few minutes ago.

“Suga, calm down.” Daichi told him. “You're worse than Nishinoya and Tanaka combined.”

“Oh, come on, Daichi,” Suga complained. “You want to know just as badly as I do.”

“Ok, fine.” The captain admitted before turning to the ace. “So how did it go with (Y/N)?”

“Details.” Suga reminded him.

So he told his friends everything that happened when they left them alone. How she raised his spirits, believing in his self-worth as an ace. How her words inspired him. How she made him feel nervous one moment and confident the next. How she bought him a new shirt as a gift.

“She sounds awesome for you, Asahi.” Suga complimented. “And if I remember correctly, doesn’t she fit your description of your ideal dream girl?”

“I mean- Yeah. She’s great but-”

Daichi interrupted him. “But what, Asahi? You're both single and you’re definitely interested in each other.”

“How do you know that? I mean she did say she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend.”

“She said she didn’t need a jealous boyfriend.” Daichi reminded him. “You’re the most sensitive guy I know.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“This time it is.”

“Seriously, Asahi,” Suga placed his hand on his shoulder. “Why do you think I highlighted your star qualities? You take other people’s feelings into account. She helped build your confidence. And you just told us, how you had a great time talking to her where it sounds like she did too. You’re literally perfect for each other.”

“You think so?” He asked, sounding hopeful. “I do like her. Do you think she likes me?”

“Dude, she wasn’t scared of you, she held down a meaningful conversation with you, and she even bought you a shirt.” Suga listed, his grin growing by the minute. “(Y/N) likes you.”

The small flame of hope in his heart, fueled by his friends’ words, began to burn brightly. He couldn’t wait to see her again. Even if she’ll be on the sidelines on the opposing team’s side, he’ll still be happy.

“So what will you do next, ace?” Daichi asked, crossing his arms. Suga did the same thing as they waited for a response. “Will you let this opportunity slip away?”

“No way.”

His friends grinned, happy to see their glass-hearted friend sound so confident.

It was nightfall. Everyone took a rain check and turned in early, knowing that the next day will be just as hard as the first. The only person not asleep was him. He volunteered to shower last as it gave him the chance to relive the afternoon.

How was he going to talk to her tomorrow? Will she want him to talk to her? His team is playing against hers tomorrow… If they win tomorrow, will she be angry and ignore him?

Shaking his head at the thought, he finished his nightly routine. He decided to wear the shirt (Y/N) bought for him. He grabbed the bag and unfolded the shirt. Carefully as if it was woven by the most precious fabric in the world. In his mind, the T-shirt was a treasure given to him by an angel.

For some reason, he recalled (Y/N)’s words, ‘So believe me when I say this, it’s okay to express those feelings. Maybe one day, you’ll find solace in someone.’

He hoped she believed that to be true because he might have found that someone.

The sound of paper falling caught his attention. At first he thought it was just the discarded T-shirt tags, when his eyes landed on a simple piece of folded notebook paper in the sink. He picked it up, unfolded it, and his heart stopped for the third time? Fourth? Maybe fifth?

In clean and elegant handwriting, the note displayed:

I hope this isn’t weird of me to do this, but I didn’t want to lose this chance. So this is me making the first move because while I try to play it cool, you make me nervous. (Hard to believe, right?) Anyways, this is my number: XXX-XXX-XXXX.

We can just talk if you want. You seem like a cool guy and I still want to get to know you. If you don’t, I’ll understand. Anyways, I’ll cut this note short. Good luck tomorrow! Don’t hold back against Inarizaki.

P.S: I hope your friends were telling the truth earlier.

Normal POV

(Y/N) ditched her cards the moment she heard her phone let out a small ding, signaling a new message.

“Hey, you can’t just do that in the middle of the game!” Atsumu’s voice called out.

She ignored him as she jumped on her bed and grabbed her phone. Her heart was racing as she quickly unlocked her phone, but then it expanded at the sight of the message that read:

Hey, it's Asahi. Is this (Y/N)-san?

Her face broke into a wide smile. Her thumbs danced over the keyboard as she typed out a reply:

Asahi! Yeah, it’s me. I’m glad you found my note.

She watched as the three dots appeared, signaling that Asahi was typing. God, he has no idea the effect he has on her.

It was a nice surprise. A bit of a shock, but it’s very much welcomed. The shirt fits by the way. I think it’s my new favorite.

Another message appeared after the first and she felt every atom in her body seemed to explode after reading it.

By the way, my friends were telling the truth. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

This was the first page of a story where two individuals found solace in one another.

#haikyu x reader #asahi azumane x reader #asahi x reader #asahi fluff #asahi x you #haikyu fluff #haikyu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n

356 notes · View notes

fluffysucker · 5 months

Text

Bad Things

Bucky Barnes x Reader

TW: Violence. Fighting. Brief mention of torture. Steve is alive and well.

The only way out was to awake them. And you did.

A/n: Heavily influenced by oxytocin by Billie Eilish. No like you will find lyrics throughout. Listen to it while reading, please.

Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me.

Main Masterlist

You were sure that if you weren't driving the motorcycle, your legs would be bouncing, your hands would be shaking, and your palms would be sweating. But you were focusing on the road ahead despite feeling like you were driving on autopilot. You may not look like it, but you were a mess. Internally, at least. Anxity from the plan, danger of the situation, horrors from flashbacks, and uncertainty of the results. You were bitting your lips that you were close to feeling the metallic-tasting liquid on your tongue.

The darkness that grew, the further you got close to the agreed upon location, wasn't helping either. For someone who did this for a lifetime, you were spiraling. You wished you could cancel everything and come up with something different, but you couldn't.

Can't take it back once it's been set in motion.

You started to regulate your breath, take control of your mind, and keep your heartbeats in check once you saw the warehouse. It was now. There was no going back.

You stopped the motorcycle abruptly, causing the sand and dust around you to fly away. You took one last breath before taking the helmet out.

You got up and steadied your posture. The suit was never comfortable on your skin. Today, you felt like it was crawling on your skin, trying to devour you. You hid the suffocating feeling and put the act into action.

If you only pray on Sunday,

Could you come my way on Monday?

Confidence and peril were displayed. A strenuous look on your face. You were back in her.

"I thought you weren't coming." His voice annoyed you so much that you wanted to cut his throat open.

"I gave you a word, didn't I?" You came to a stop with enough distance between you and him. Even your voice was different in your ears.

"It's not like you had many choices." His laugh sent shivers through your body that you were able to hide.

"I always believed in your intelligence, moon." You pulled your hands into fists to stop any visible reaction from coming out of you.

The name was only associated with corruption and cruelty. Something the man in front of you strived for.

"With both of your capabilities, we will go back to the top of the world." The evil smile was more telling of his intentions than his disturbing words.

With the mere mention of him, you felt the air get thicker, the wind blowing harder, the stars dimming their lights, and the rocks and pebbles shaking on the floor.

He was here.

"Great. We didn't have to wait long for him." The man almost clapped in excitement.

In the sea of the darkness of the night and the void you were in, he appeared. His black suit made him almost unseen in the darkness of the night. But his heavy footsteps made him known.

The golden in his arm reflecting the light of the stars and the mask covering all his face except the eyes were making him even more fearful.

In person, he was much more terrifying than the stories and myths.

However, the crazy man didn't think so.

"Would you look at that?" He said once that the two of you were standing next to each other. You wanted to hold his hand, seeking any sort of comfort and reassurance, but you knew it would blow out your act.

"The Winter Soldier and Wicked Moon. Together and back at their home."

Dugal, the man speaking, had been the bane of your existence for some time now. Every mission, every warehouse, every file, and every piece of evidence all trailed back to him.

The manic, who had been obsessed with bringing Hydra back to life,.

With the right allies and calculated steps, he was able to achieve most of his plans in secret, but why show yourself now? Why draw attention to you now?

Because it was time to get Hydra's greatest weapons back.

You and your husband.

You and Sergeant James Barnes

Wicked Moon and The Winter Soldier.

You and Bucky shared the same life. Kidnapped by Hydra, injected with the serum, erased and brainwashed, trained to maximum efficiency. You reached levels of skills that were unmatched.

Despite the different start, you and Bucky were the faces of the same coin.

You were taken a bit after Bucky. Hydra had the goal of making both of you into its lethal duo. Unbeatable and unpredictable. You and Bucky became the ghost story for decades. Never once seen or traced.

You were a myth that terrified all.

And for decades, you spent all your days with Bucky, or who you called soldier at a time, because you didn't know his real name. Nor did he know yours, and he called you Moon.

You shared a cell. You trained together. You were sent on missions together. You were tortured together. You were used to each other's screams and pains. You were the same person in many ways.

While Hydra was blinded and happy with your success rate and obedience, they failed to notice the deep connection that was forming between the two of you.

The comfort you found in each other. The conversations without words. The accustomedness. The long eye contact and gaze The gentle touches that only you provided each other with. The worry and panic if one went on solo missions.

You understood each other. You trusted each other. You empathized with each other. You prayed for each other's freedom.

You loved each other.

So, looking at Bucky with questioning and worried eyes above Steve Roger's unconscious body after you disobeyed the direct orders of eliminating Steve and following Bucky to save him from death by drowning, Bucky knew he could never leave you. He took your hand and ran away.

Other people wouldn't stay

Other people don't obey

You and me are both the same

You should really run away

It was a long and bumpy road. Gaining back your memories and learning how to live. But you held each other's hands. And in the face of all the hardships, you stood together.

You fought it all until you finally settled into your shared apartment in Brooklyn. Almost ten years after escaping Hydra.

You thought life was finally good. You knew who you were. You got back your identities. You were healing bit by bit. You finished therapy and were officially pardoned. You were allowed on missions, but more importantly, you were allowed to turn down missions. A luxury you and Bucky never had.

You were so happy for Bucky, who got to have his bestfriend back, Steve, and make a new one, Sam. You were happy that one of you could have someone, especially after finding out that you had nobody, which made you the perfect target for Hydra in the first place.

But being the good people they were, Steve and Sam instantly took you in like family. They could easily tell how much you meant to Bucky. Even from the first day. Whether on the bridge or in Bucharest, The uncontrolled urge to protect you despite being perfectly capable of looking after yourself. The care and admiration in his eyes whenever you were around or your name was mentioned. All and more signs that exposed Bucky's feelings for you.

They were more than happy when Bucky told them that you got married on the very long, overdue vacation that you went on.

You were everything to Bucky's. His love. His life. His rescue. His salvation. You were his reason to keep going.

While he felt bad that you had to go through the tough life you had, he couldn't imagine how his life would have looked if he had never met you.

So when the danger of Hydra taking you away from him arose with Dugal's appearance, Bucky almost lost his mind.

Dugal seemed insistent on taking you and Bucky back. He was destroying places, terrorizing, and hurting innocent people. Dugal heard you were trying to be good people, so he played on your conscience. He was pushing you and Bucky towards this moment. The moment you caved and gave up. The moment you returned to Hydra.

So, with his knife on Cass's neck, you surrendered. You promised to meet him and do whatever he wanted. And you promised to bring Bucky as well. He wanted the both of you.

And you listened.

Here you were. In the suits you thought you would never put on again. Triggering the two people you buried so deeply within. In front of the warehouse of an enemy, you fought for and against your whole lives.

"This is your home. This is your purpose. Not fake heroism. You were made to serve the greater good. To protect and serve Hydra." Dugal's voice made its way to your ears.

"You belong to Hydra. And Hydra only."

'Cause as long as you're still breathing

Don't you even think of leaving

Not gonna wanna look away, look away, look away

You're gonna wanna get involved, involved, involved

And what would people say, people say, people say

If they listen through the wall, the wall, the wall?

You kept the stoic expression on your face, refusing to let him see the effect his words had on you.

The door of the warehouse opened, and walking out of it were Dugal's two trusted men that you saw everywhere with him. Nedward and Alexios. They stopped behind him.

Following them, hundreds of agents came out of the warehouse. They surrounded you and Bucky in seconds. You looked at Dugal, confused.

"I want to make sure you are still the best. I want to know where to pick up from." His smile was wicked and filled with bad intentions.

"Call it a test. A test of Wicked Moon and The Winter Soldier's abilities." His wicked smile wasn't flattering.

You got into a fighting position quickly, not willing to lose this. You felt Bucky take position, too, his back turning to you. You were back-to-back, moving in slow circles, assisting the situation.

And once the first agent threw the punch, it was nonstop.

I can see it clear as day

You don't really need a break

Wanna see what you can take

You should really run away

While the agents largely outnumbered you, they were at a disadvantage. You and Bucky fought like one. You had a never-seen-before fight style. You designed it so that you used each other's strengths to the full and utilized the weaknesses as power points. You used your full bodies in fighting. You were familiar with each other's bodies and movements. You grabbed weapons that were strapped to the other's suit. You twisted around each other to reach as many targets as possible. You trained until you perfected it. No flaws. No mistakes. No room for lacunas.

It didn't take long before the last agent was down on the floor. You felt like it was harder to breathe. There was a ringing noise in your ears. Your hand wanted to start shaking. Tears were rushing to your eyes. You were having a panic attack.

Memories of missions and assignments you did throughout your life It all looked like this. You standing above the fallen, waiting for your destiny to be decided by an evil organization that thought of you as an object of killing.

Dugal's voice gave you a sense of where you were and the situation around you. Quickly, you pushed your emotions inside and regained your focus. A trait you learned from your days at Hydra. Human emotions were never well accepted by Hydra.

You shook your head as you looked at Dugal, who was clapping slowly.

"Excellent. Great job." He moved a bit towards the both of you.

"It seems you haven't changed. Still the best." You succeeded in his test.

"You did cost me all the agents in the base. But we will bring more." Dugal was proud of the two assets.

"So it's only us in here?" You were hoping to get a specific answer.

"Yes. Tomorrow, I will bring agents and recruiters. Also, scientists who know how to treat and handle great weapons like you. This will be Hydra's biggest base." Dugal seemed excited for his plan.

However, once the words left his mouth, chaos erupted everywhere.

Bucky caught the shield in his hand as Sam and Steve landed on the ground and attacked Dugal. You and Bucky moved to Nedward and Alexios. Each taking on one.

Cars and vehicles appeared everywhere, lighting up the deserted place.

This was the plan all along.

No matter how much time passed, Hydra's men would always have something in common. They were arrogant. They had an ego big enough for an entire population. And that made them stupid. That made them vulnerable to mistakes.

You and Bucky knew that more than anyone. So the plan was to trick Dugal with your alliance until he was defenceless. It was risky, but it worked.

You only let go of Alexios once handcuffs were secured around his wrists. Same with Bucky and Nedward. You turned to see Sam and Steve holding Dugal until Torres handcuffed him.

"You think you won?" His words were more direct towards you and Bucky.

"You think you can ever escape this? You think you can be free? You are delusional. Hydra will never die." Dugal continued. Torres handcuffed him, letting Steve through him in one of the more armored cars and strapping him more.

"Cut off one head; two more shall take its place. Hail HYDRA!"

Steve closed the door of the car.

They weren't planning to cut off one head. They were planning to burn down the whole bunch. No mercy. No stopping until they were all gone.

Once his voice was muted and you couldn't see him anymore, you couldn't hold up any longer. You sat on the ground, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to get hold of yourself, trying to reconnect, trying to disassociate from what just happened.

Like you, immediately after the car started to move, Bucky threw the mask off his face, finally breathing. He hated everything about this mask. Trapped like an animal behind it. Deprived of any form of humanity.

He prayed he never had to put on again.

"You okay?" Sam asked his friend, worried about the mental toll this whole act may have had on him.

Despite having his nephews being the ones in danger, Sam was against this plan. He cared about you and Bucky dearly and didn't want to know how stepping back into your assassin personas would hurt your healing. You had come a long way.

While your quick response to save his nephews and willingness to do this for them touched his heart immensely, Sam couldn't help but feel like they should come up with something else.

But both of you insisted, and it worked, but was the cost expensive?

Bucky nodded. They were okay physically, at least.

Bucky turned around to see you still sitting on the sandy ground, face in hand. He knew it wasn't just today, but the whole thing. Hydra still haunted you, messing with your progress. He understood.

Bucky sat on the ground next to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling into him and letting you lay in his laps, both of your legs on the side of his thigh. You nuzzled into his neck, holding his gear in your hand. You wanted to disappear in him.

"It's over. You're fine. You are okay. You are safe." Bucky's voice whispered in your ears, the end of his long hair touching your face and his hands wrapping up your back and waist.

You felt the tension leaving your body a bit by bit, making yourself only focus on Bucky's voice and letting yourself breathe. You knew you were surrounded by people, but you didn't care.

You only cared about Bucky right now.

You moved away from Bucky so you could look at him.

"We are okay. We are safe." You said to Bucky.

Because you cared about Bucky more than you cared about yourself. You loved Bucky more than anything. Bucky was the reason you were still alive. Bucky was your everything.

You wanted him to know that he was okay, too. You both survived this. You weren't back in that cell. You were going to your home.

Being the good-hearted person he was, Bucky always felt responsible for you. Even when he was the Winter Soldier. That's how the spark between you kindled. His instincts to protect you and care for you took a big part of him. And that made you fall deeper in love with him.

But you loved him just as much, if not more. You wanted to protect him from the hell you went through. Because he didn't deserve it. None of it.

The bigger burden of today wasn't the possibility of falling back into your old selves. It was the possibility of losing your partner to Hydra and watching them lose themselves once again.

You both came in with one goal. Protect each other to death.

And you succeeded. You were fine.

Bucky looked at you with love pouring out of his eyes. Bucky didn't understand how, after so much evil, he was still able to feel such strong emotions of love and adoration. But you melted him and lived in his heart. You were printed on his soul.

He nodded with a smile. You were okay. He leaned in and kissed you. It was a slow and gentle kiss. A reminder that you were both still yourselves. You were free. You were okay.

"Let's go home." You spoke once the kiss broke.

Home. Bucky was going home to the city he grew up in. He was going home to a place he had chosen to live. He was going home, where he would take a shower and lay on a comfortable bed. Bucky was going with his wife. Bucky was going to hold on as you both got rid of the remains of tonight. Bucky was going to hold you as you both drifted to sleep, dreaming of your future together.

Hydra didn't win. You were okay.

183 notes · View notes

marvel-ouss · 1 year

Text

The Way I loved You

Charles Leclerc x Reader, Arthur Leclerc x Reader

Warnings: italics are flashbacks, the timeline is unreliable (Charlotte and Charles are dating and Zak is still McLaren's team principal), mentions of cheating, nicknames in French and Italian, "y/n/n" means "your nickname", screaming, fighting, English is not my first language

Type: fluff and a bit of angst Inspo:

Reader pov

Time goes by and you can’t even feel it. If a year ago you had told me I would be dating Arthur Leclerc I would literally laugh in your face.

I would never imagine dating my ex’s brother, never in a million years. But it end up happening.

I dated Charles for three years, all our friends and family thought we were getting married some day without them knowing, those were the best years of my life, of course it all went south on the end of the third year.

Lewis organized a drivers dinner or something like that and Charles as a f1 drivers was expected to be there. He told me the latest he’d arrive was 11pm so he didn’t keep me here alone for too long since Arthur was out with some friends as well.

It’s 3am Arthur arrived one hour ago and not a single glimpse of Cha, he didn’t answer the phone or replied my texts so I was getting worried. I got up from my bed and headed towards Arthur’s bedroom and knocked on his door “Thuthur?”

“Get in y/n/n” he said just loud enough for me to hear on the other side of the door.

I got in and sat on the end of his bed, I could tell I woke him up “Do you have any news on your brother?” He checked his phone “No, he hasn’t answered my texts yet.”

“Alright, thanks Thuthur I’m sorry for waking you up, sleep well” I kiss his cheek and leave the room. As I get to the living room I sit on the couch and open Twitter to see if there were any updates. After a while of swiping trough the timeline I see a video of my boyfriend with a girl I could recognise, Charlotte the first girl I met and could call my friend when I moved to Monaco.

I was left speechless. I could not believe my eyes while the video of my friend and boyfriend kissing played on replay. I could feel the tears starting to fall down my face.

I felt betrayed. I didn't even notice the time passing.

I wake up from my trance when I hear the door unlock. There he was, the man I swore to be my night in a shining armor. The man I loved the most.

“Hi bab-“ “Get out Charles, I don’t want to see you” I don’t even want to listen to his voice, because I know I will forgive him in a blink of an eye. We’ve been here before he fight all the time, for stupid things but this, now this was serious. This was the first time he cheated, and only to make everything better, with my friend.

“What’s wrong babe?” his calmness usually soothes me. Unfortunately all his calmness right now was making me furious.

“Don’t call me babe, not after tonight!”

“Babe I can explain” he widened his eyes and approached me.

“GET THE FUCK WAY FROM ME” I got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water to calm down.

“Y/n, listen to me!” He says going after me.

“I don’t want to listen, Charles! You went out, you didn’t say a word and I was left worried the entire night!” I kept screaming, I was so angry I started tearing up “I understand you want to go out with your friends, enjoy you're youth and have fun but the least you can do is send me or Arthur a message!” I checked the time on the kitchen’s clock and continued “It’s 5am and I haven’t slept because I was worried! I thought something might have happened to you! Just for me to go on the internet and see you with another woman!”

“Babe, I can expla-“ I take a glass out of the cabinet and fill it with water and say: “No you can’t!”

“Please listen to me!” “I won’t, tell Charlotte I said hi, now leave” he has a shocked look on his face which means I was right, the girl in the video I saw earlier was indeed my old friend.

“The silence says it all. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, when I wake up I’ll make my bags and leave” I say sipping in my cup of water.

“Are you crazy? You are not going anywhere! Not before we talk!” I could tell he was getting desperate. This was all his fault in the first place.

"Now I'm the crazy one?" I turn my back I head to our bedroom so I could get a pillow and a blanket.

Charles enters the room after me and closes the door.

“Please Y/n, let’s talk, I need to explain everything to you, it was a dumb mistake, I shouldn’t have done it. I started drinking and I felt needy but you weren’t there! When I looked at her all a could see was yo-“ “Please Charles, shut up” “-u and I just wanted to kiss you and hug you, but you weren’t ther-“ “SHUT THE FUCK UP! I can’t listen to you anymore! I’m done with your excuses! At the end of the day I’ll be the one to blame because I wasn’t there, and the jokes on me.” I make my way to the bedroom door and open it.

Arthur’s door is open and he is resting his side on the doorframe. “You good?” He asked in a cautious tone.

“Sorry for waking you up but your brother’s a dick!” I make my way down stairs. I could hear Arthur talking to Charles in French but I just went to the couch, laid down and eventually fell asleep.

The next morning I packed my things and left, I stayed at Lando’s house for a while until I had the money to buy my own house. I had some money in my savings for as emergency and this was the perfect moment to put it to use. I met Lando a long time ago, when I first came to Monaco, four years ago, it was with the intuition of becoming a f1 photographer, and that ended up becoming true, I was a photographer for McLaren during one year. Zak had a lot to say about Daniel Ricciardo so I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

Danny has a heart of gold and he didn’t deserve half of what he went through on his last year at McLaren.

After leaving McLaren I did some jobs here and there but settled as a Quadrant photo editor and a APM Monaco main photographer. Even with two jobs I still have time for myself, when they need me they give me a call and I go as fast as I can.

It was easy making the money I was missing to buy a house and not even 3 months later I was all settled in my new apartment.

Lando puts the last box we brought down from his apartment on the table. I bought a two bedroom apartment in the same building as Lando.

“How could you do this to me? You can't leave meee” Lando said with a fake crying voice.

I burst out laughing “Landoo, stop with the drama, we’ve talked about this. You have my phone number and I’m just two floors down!”

“Oh right I forgot about that part! Seems like I’m not getting rid of you that easily.”

“Lan, I think it’s more the other way around.” We stay silent and the next second both our laughs fill the apartment.

"Sorry to ruin the mood, how are you feeling with all this situation?"

"Honestly I don't know. It feels weird. this is the first year in almost four years that I won't be constantly at the paddock. I'm gonna miss the races and specially the people." I was starting to get nostalgic, thinking of all the moments I spent at the paddock, the people I met and all.

"You can always come by, you're welcome to come with me!"

"Yah, obviously!" I say in a sarcastic tone "The last thing I want to do is fight with Zak again, and I doubt I'll be welcome at the McLaren hospitality"

"Y/n you know a bunch of people, you'd be welcome in all the hospitalities! We'll really miss you around." He says hugging me.

"I'll miss y'all as well" I start crying with my face buried in his neck

"Y/n/n, please stop crying or we'll make a pool in the middle of your living room"

"Sorry" I say stepping away and wiping my tears away. "I'm gonna take a bath and settle in, talk to you later?"

"If you want me to go just say it!" he says stepping out the door "See you tomorrow miss" he kisses my cheek and leaves.

I remember being there, in the middle of my apartment, crying my eyes out because of some boy that decided to play with my feelings. Later that night Arthur called to check on me, after all we were pretty close. He came over that night and I got to say everything I was keeping inside of me.

Thur coming over started being something usual so we just got closer and closer.

“Mon ange, do you have any ice cream?” I hear Arthur ask from the living room.

“I only have vanilla ice cream, mio caro” I say from the kitchen door.

“You’re basic, as anyone ever told you that?” He says in a playful tone getting closer, holding my waist and hiding his face in my neck.

“Yes, you have, plenty of times!” I laugh.

“Forget the ice cream, let’s watch a movie and cuddle!” He picks me up and makes his way to the couch. “What do you wanna watch?” He asks putting my feet back on the ground.

I make my best puppy eyes. “No, Y/n, no, please not ‘What’s your number’ again” he says in an annoyed tone. We’ve watched that movies at least 20 times in the last few weeks. “Please, please, please, please, plea-” I keep the puppy eyes to try to convince him. “Okay, you won, but I choose what we’re getting for dinner!” “Deal” I say with a big smile on my face.

The movie ended and Arthur was about to order the food when he got a phone call from his personal trainer so he goes to the other room to answer.

“All good?” I ask when he comes back.

“Yeah, the f2 season starts in three weeks so I need to get in shape before the season start” we keep talking about the f2 season and how excited he is to start racing again. “You should come with me to the races, if your job let’s you of course” he says exited but insecure at the same time.

“I’m not sure, mio caro. Especially with your brother there. I don’t want to make things awkward” I say with a sad tone.

“You still don’t know, do you?” He looks really confused.

“Know what?” I furrow my brows.

“Charles is taking Charlotte to most of the races” and that’s it, replaced like a snap of a finger.

I got lost in my thoughts. Didn't realize I was crying until I feel Arthur hugging me. That was when everything fell down, every tear I held during 6 months, every feeling, all the thoughts, all the love I still felt for Charles. Everything.

"Mon cœur, you don't need to cry anymore, everything will be alright."

I lift my head from his chest "Arthur I'm not sure if I'll ever get over him, he was my first love, he's the person I spent three years of my life with" I sobbed "You don't understand what I'm going through, I loved him more than anything just to be replaced by one of my closest friends, I trusted them. I feel betrayed by the both of them. I don't know if I'm ready to see them together! Thuthur, what do I do?"

"Mon ange, trust me when I tell you that he loved you, he's also hurt by the break up and this was his way to cope, just know that it was real while it lasted."

"If he was hurt he would have tried again, he didn't even call!" I argued

"Of course he didn't. I told him not to." he said really calm

"Why would you do that?" I was so confused, I've been complaining that Charles never tried again but the cause of it has been invited to MY house by ME countless times.

"Would you forgive him? Wait, better question. Would you forget what he did? Or every time you were with him you'd get flashbacks of the video? Don't try blaming it on me because I know that that's what you're doing!" I didn't answer, I just started blankly at the rug on my living room floor. After a while Arthur stood up "I'm sorry but I'm leaving." he made his way to the front door and left. I knew I had fucked up.

That night I went to Lando's house to get his opinion on the situation. Lan always has the best advices! He told me that Arthur might care for me a little bit too much and told me that I needed to replace Charles to help with the pain. I still remember his words to this day "When your puppy dies you need to replace him to help you cope with the pain, it doesn't mean you'll stop loving him, he'll always have a special place in your heart but you need to allow another puppy some love as well" yes he compered my situation with puppies! What's in that's kids head, be forreal.

Me and Arthur didn't speak for three weeks, a sent him hundreds of texts but he didn't answer any. So I did what anyone would do: I went to Bahrain with Lando to talk to him.

"ARTHUR LECLERC GET BACK HERE!" everybody started looking at me and Arthur. He turns around and when I reach him I wrap my arms around his torso and bury my face in the crook of his neck to feel the smell of his perfume that I loved so much. "I'm so so sorry for not saying a thing that night, I was just left speechless. Everything you said was true I just didn't want to accept it. Then you left and it was already too late. I'm really sorry mio caro"

He hugged me back and lifted me so I could wrap my legs around his waist and hold onto his shoulders. Now we were face to face. "I forgive you mon cœur, I also apologize for ignoring all your attempts to talk to me, I'm sorry cherie"

I just couldn't resist him. After what Lando said and all this time away from Arthur, I knew I needed him in my life. It was not a want, it was a need. So I kissed him. I didn't care about the cameras or about the people around us. It was just me and him in that moment.

I separated my mouth from his to catch my breath and he followed to kiss me again. "Thur, can you put me on the floor please?" I whispered. "Only if you don't run away." he laughs before putting me on the floor. "Grazie mio caro" I smiled at him.

I looked at his beautiful eyes before getting on my tiptoes and kiss him again.

I went with him for most of the races, the time we spent in Monaco was enough to make the APM photoshoots and all the Quadrant editing could be done while I was away in other countries.

I avoided both Charles and Charlotte. I couldn't deal with any of them. I didn't want to ruin my happiness.

Right now I've been dating with Arthur for seven months and his f2 championship is going great. I still run from my problems instead of solving them.

Today is race day so there's drives, wags, cameras and teams everywhere. Me and Arthur were walking to the Dams motorhome so he could check the strategy before the race. "Y/n?" I didn't answer. I've been ignoring Arthur for the past 30 minutes cause since early this morning he decided that he wanted to challenge my patience. He only called me by my name (which never happens), closed every door in my face and disagreed with everything I said even if I was right! The man's insane! So I decided not to talk to him. we where passing the interview zone when he held my waist so I looked at him "Baby, Mon ange, mon cœur, cherie,-" he said burying his face in the crook of my neck "That's enough Arthur" I started laughing and he started tickling me. "Stoopppp, Thur. Please stop" I can't stop laughing. "Apologize for not speaking to me."

"Thur, stop please, I apologize" a say pushing is hands away from my waist.

"Come here" before I could even think he had already thrown me over his shoulder like a potato bag. "Thur put me down!" I couldn't breath from laughing so much. "Nope, I'm gonna carry you to the hospitality"

All the laughing and talking got interrupted "Arthur? Y/n?"

Charles pov

“The car seem-“ I stopped hearing the interviewer when I heard her laugh, the laugh I didn’t hear for so long, I always loved her laugh. I loved her smile, her eyes, her hair, well I loved her. I love.

I don’t remember much after I left the club on that night but I know we had a fight. What I did was wrong. More than wrong. I don’t know what got into my head! I love her. Even after all this time I still love her. Charlotte means nothing compared to her.

I wanted to go after her but Arthur told me do drop it, everything he says was right but I didn’t want to listen. Then I realised that it might be for the best. That’s why I went back to Charlotte so I could try to get over her.

But I need to respect her happiness. She’s with Arthur and I know he's good for her.

“Charles, are you with us?” I hear the interviewer

“Sorry, can you excuse me?” I turn towards what I believe was the dams hospitality “Arthur? Y/N?”

Hi everyone, this is my first time writing something a publishing it. So please be nice :)

Let me know if I got something wrong and let me know your opinions.

Should I do a part two?

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc one shot #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc x y/n #charlotte sine #f1 #formula 1 #racing #f2 #formula 2

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tigertales9 · 1 year

Text

More Than Anything II

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Angst / Body image issues due to pregnancy / Smut

Description: This is part 2 of More Than Anything

A/N: I was hoping to get this up a couple days ago but got stuck tweaking a few bits. I'm still not completely happy with it, but that's the story of my life. Hope y'all like it.

-----------------------

~ ~ Friday afternoon just after Joe leaves ~ ~

You eventually slide off the barstool, grabbing your phone to shut the video down before guzzling your entire glass of water. "Thirsty as hell," you grumble, walking to the fridge to refill your glass. It's no wonder, you think, taking a couple of gulps of the cold water while heading for the stairs. I'm super dehydrated from all the crying and throwing up.

You walk into the master bedroom and flick the ceiling fan on, setting your phone and drink on the bedside table before crawling into bed; as you try to get comfortable you hear a distinct voice in your head.

You overreacted like crazy. You know that, right?

"Fuck off, Cool Logic," you mutter to yourself, using the name you'd given to one of the two dueling voices that had been going at it in your brain for the last couple of months. The dueling voices are as follows -- you have your pre-pregnancy voice providing cool logic, while your hormonal third trimester voice comes crashing in like a wrecking ball.

Cool Logic = Girl please, it's just porn. Not like you caught him balls deep in another woman.

Wrecking Ball = Fuck that! You're huge and chronically uncomfortable since you're carrying HIS child! The least he can do is not be dumb enough to get caught ogling random vag!

"Enough," you mutter, shaking your head and humming a bit to drown out the annoying inner dialogue. You take a deep breath and fight back tears as your mind continues to torture you. What hurts the most is he knows you feel bad about yourself; you've been super honest about it, and he's done nothing but reassure you that he finds you absolutely gorgeous and sexy. "And I stupidly believed him," you mumble.

He hasn't been able to keep his hands -- among other things -- off of you, Cool Logic interjects. Maybe he's telling the truth.

"Shut up!" you snap, more than a little appalled that you're arguing with your damn self. "I'm losing it," you grumble, squeezing your eyes closed as images from the day before flash in your mind

~ ~ flashback to yesterday ~ ~

Joe gets home from the gym just as you're finishing up a light treadmill workout. You hear the garage door open and check your time. "Four minutes left," you grumble before stabbing the 'stop' button. "Close enough." You sit on a weight bench and tug your shoes and socks off, wiggling your toes and grimacing as Joe walks into the room.

"Hey," he chirps, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. "Looking good, mama."

"Looking like the Goodyear blimp," you snort, irrationally aggravated that Joe looks like walking sex, as usual. "If men had to go through pregnancy and childbirth, the human species would've long since gone extinct."

"No doubt about that," he agrees, giving you a playful wink when you narrow your eyes at him. "I think you're sexy as hell," he murmurs, leaning down to give you a more thorough kiss before stepping back.

You really want to call him a liar, but the earnest look on his face stops you cold. You give him a weak smile before heaving a sigh. "I should've got a pedi a couple days ago when I got a bikini wax," you grump, peering at your less than perfect pedicure like it's the worst thing ever. "If I wasn't so huge I'd paint them myself, but here we are," you mutter, gesturing at your pregnant belly.

"Let me do it," he urges giving you a wicked grin when you hit him with an incredulous look. "You know I'm good with my hands," he brags, wiggling his agile fingers and chuckling when you roll your eyes.

"Maybe later," you mumble. "Right now you can put those hands to good use by emptying the dishwasher."

"Yes, ma'am." He gives your ass a playful squeeze as you walk out of the room and head for the stairs. Halfway up you remember another chore that needs to be done. "When you're finished with the dishes can you grab the clean laundry out of the dryer and bring it upstairs? I'll fold it when I get out of the shower."

"You got it, babe," he grins, giving you a thumbs-up before getting to work.

You walk out of the bathroom 25 minutes later, smiling at the array of neatly folded clothes laying on the bed. He grabs a stack of clean towels, handing them to you before reaching for a pile of t-shirts, socks and undies. "Let's put these up then I'll paint your toenails," he offers.

"You don't have to," you mutter, sticking your bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. "I'll just go to brunch tomorrow with a busted pedi. The girls won't judge me."

Joe leans down and sucks your pouty lip into his mouth, nibbling on it for a second before releasing it. "You're not going to brunch with a busted pedi. Put those towels up and grab everything we need to handle business."

"Yes, sir," you say in a sultry tone, giving Joe an innocent smile when he hits you with a loaded look. You place the towels in a cabinet and grab a bottle of nail polish and toe separators. "I don't need full-service," you say, waggling the bottle of nail polish as you walk back in the bedroom. "Just paint over the existing polish and we'll call it good."

Joe gives you a sly grin as you sit on the edge of the bed. "I was kind of hoping you'd want full-service," he winks, voice heavy with innuendo.

"Maybe later, horndog," you giggle, smiling as he sits cross-legged on the floor at your feet. "Wait a sec," you say, "we need something to put over the carpet just in case."

He pulls his black t-shirt off and spreads it on the floor inside out. "This thing is old as hell. I don't care if it gets polish on it."

You let your eyes wander over his bare skin, admiring the way his muscles flex as he scoots closer to you. "Who's the horndog now?" he grins, easily noticing your not-so-subtle ogling.

"Pretty sure it's still you," you chuckle, handing him the toe separators while shaking the polish bottle.

"You know me too well," he sighs, fixing the separators in place before reaching for the bottle. "Put one foot on my leg," he continues, patting his thigh and watching closely as you do as ordered. "What are you wearing under the t-shirt?" he asks, slowly unscrewing the polish while holding your gaze.

You look down at the light purple t-shirt you're wearing -- his shirt -- before answering. "Panties."

He gives you a look before painting a stripe of coral-colored polish onto a big toe. "What kind of panties?"

"Hipster panties."

"What color?"

"You wanna see 'em?"

"Obvs."

You pull the shirt up just enough to expose the tiny, low rise undies.

"Purple tiger stripes," he nods his approval. "Very nice."

"You picked them out," you giggle, dropping the shirt to cover your crotch as he finishes up foot #1.

"I know. I have good taste." He gives you a wink that's more naughty than playful, lifting your foot up to blow on the wet polish, his gaze sliding up the length of your leg as he continues to blow.

"You trying to get another eyeful?" you tease, a pulse of arousal setting off deep inside as his gaze moves from the juncture of your thighs, over the swell of your belly to linger on your breasts. Your nipples harden under his heated gaze, and his sinful lips curl up in a cocky grin.

"Maybe." He slowly licks his lips while setting your foot down and reaching for your other foot. He wraps his hand around your ankle and lifts your foot all the way up to his mouth, planting a kiss on your sensitive sole before giving it a quick lick.

"That tickles!" you gasp, squirming a bit as he does it again. "Joseph, stop!" you laugh, trying and failing to pull your foot out of his strong grasp.

"Take your shirt off," he orders.

"You don't wanna see my huge belly," you grimace.

"Your belly is sexy," he states. "I wanna see it and your gorgeous tits."

"I don't feel very sexy," you pout.

"Your hard nipples say otherwise."

"I mean, yeah, I'm a little turned on, but I don't feel sexy. I feel big as a house."

"You look like a goddess," he purrs, dropping a full-lipped kiss on the inside of your ankle just above where his hand is gripping you. "Ripe and luscious," he continues, kissing his way up the inside of your calf all the way to your knee. "Good enough to eat," he groans, sucking a mouthful of thigh hard enough to leave a love bite.

You swallow hard and try to act unaffected, knowing it'll drive him crazy. "Are you gonna finish painting my nails?" you ask, sounding more breathless than bratty.

"Take your shirt off," he repeats.

"Finish my pedi first."

He shakes his head no and you raise an eyebrow. "What if I don't take it off?" you whisper, liquid heat pooling in your core at the thought of him tickling you into submission.

"I guess I'll have to punish you," he smirks, raising your foot back up to his mouth.

"Don't you dare!" you holler, squealing when he licks a long stripe up the center of your sole. "Okay, damnit!" you wheeze, whipping the shirt off before he can lick your ticklish foot again.

"Good girl," he purrs, his eyes roaming over the swell of your belly several times before resting on your bare breasts. "Are you wet for me?" he asks, sucking on his bottom lip in a way that causes your clit to throb.

"Nope," you lie.

"Oh really?" he scoffs, one jaunty eyebrow arching upward while his hand slides up your inner thigh. "Lemme check," he purrs, giving you a knowing smile when you grab his wrist.

"Wait." You stop his hand just before it reaches your crotch. You look down at his stupidly sexy smirk and are hit with a bit of inspiration. It takes everything you have not to cackle like a supervillain as the plan takes shape in your mind. You clear your throat and give him a pleading look. "Listen," you whisper, biting your lip when he leans closer to hear you better. "I'll do whatever you want, but you have to finish my toes first."

"Okay," he quickly agrees.

"Just to clarify," you state. "You have to finish my pedi no matter what. You can't stop until you're done, got it?"

He narrows his eyes as he searches your face. "What if the house catches on fire?"

"If the damn house catches on fire you can stop. Anything else needs my permission."

"Ohhhh, a power play. I like it." He gives you a nod of approval. "I accept your terms."

"Good." You release his hand and hook your thumbs in the waistband of your panties, wiggling out of them while his eyes avidly follow their downward progress. "It'll be easier to take these off before both sets of toes have wet polish," you murmur, grinning as he takes over, carefully easing the panties off so as not to disturb your freshly-painted toes.

You lean back on your elbows and spread your thighs a bit, fighting the urge to giggle at the look on his face.

"This seems kinda unfair," he mumbles.

You pretend not to hear his complaint as you lift your right foot and place it on his thigh, giving him an innocent smile when he finally drags his gaze from your crotch. "Only five more toes to go," you grin. "That won't take long at all." He grabs the bottle of polish and leans down to get started; you lay flat on your back and slide your right hand down to rest on your upper thigh. "You painting my nails is kinda hot," you breathe, squirming your hips a little as you inch your hand closer to your crotch. "We should do it more often."

"Yep," he croaks, going completely still as you ghost your fingertips over your slit, slowly sliding up to rub your clit. "I can finish your toes later," he states.

"Nope. That goes against the terms of our agreement." You continue to play with yourself while he paints another toe, muttering under his breath the entire time. You can't see a damn thing because of your belly, but you know he's enjoying the view; you bite your lip and slide a finger inside, your core clenching at his low-throated groan. You feel him grab your wrist and give it a tug before sucking your wet finger into his mouth.

"Are you done with the pedi?" you ask.

"Noooo," he moans.

"I don't smell smoke," you tease, "pretty sure the house isn't on fire."

He releases your wrist, grumbling as he quickly snatches the bottle of polish and goes back to work.

You slide your finger back inside your slick heat, pumping slowly before adding a second finger. A few heartbeats later you feel his tongue on your clit.

"Did you finish . . ."

"Yes!" he growls against your sensitive flesh, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

"I hate that I can't see you because of my belly," you gripe.

"Can you feel me," he asks, giving your clit a loud suck while sliding two fingers inside.

"Y … yeah," you whimper, gasping when he curls his fingers to hit your sweet spot. Just a few minutes later you're already falling over the edge, moaning his name as he continues to pleasure you through your climax.

After you catch your breath, you hold both hands out toward Joe. "Help me sit up, please," you ask. Once you're upright, you look down at him on the ground between your thighs, his lips glistening with your essence. "Are you hard?" you whisper, smiling when he gives you a 'girl please' look before he stands up and shoves his slinky shorts and underwear down to mid-thigh; his cock springs free and you wrap a hand around it, giving a couple of slow pumps before locking eyes with him. You run your tongue up a prominent vein before gently lapping up the precum on his tip. "No time for teasing, baby, I'm too close," he groans, looking down at you through those long eyelashes as you get down to business.

The next few minutes you work him in all the ways you know he loves, relishing in his grunts and moans of approval as you take him deep, tears sliding down your cheeks as you choke on his thick cock. "Shit, baby, I'm close," he warns, reaching a long arm out to steady himself against the bed as his climax hits; you continue to work him through his climax, smacking your lips when he collapses on the bed beside you.

After a few minutes of heavy breathing he gives you a sheepish smile. "I'm gonna need to redo those last two toes," he admits.

You look down at your right foot, mouth dropping open at the absolute mess. "What the hell?" you laugh, shaking your head while giving Joe a bemused look.

"Sorry," he chuckles. "I had a hard time concentrating since you were putting on quite a show."

"That was the point."

"I know. You won."

"What's my prize?" you ask cheekily.

"I'm gonna make you cum again," he states matter-of-factly. "That last one was way too quick."

You watch as he hops off the bed and heads into the bathroom, your pulse rate picking up in anticipation. He strides back into the bedroom and drops to his knees between your thighs. He holds a hand mirror out and you take it. "Lay back," he orders.

"What's this for?" you ask, waggling the mirror while doing his bidding.

"So you can watch," he purrs, giving you a feral smile before lowering his head

~ ~ end of flashback ~ ~

What seemed so hot in that moment is now something you wish you could forget. You stare at the ceiling, cringing in embarrassment at the thought of him seeing you like that.

Right? Wrecking Ball quips. Surprised he could get it up with that gigantic belly staring him in the face. You squeeze your eyes closed as a tear slides down your cheek. Don't listen to that nonsense, Cool Logic snipes. He had no problem getting it up. Hell, he damn near came before you got it in your mouth! Not to mention he went back for seconds!

"Maybe if I ignore the voices they'll go away," you mumble, rolling onto your side to get more comfortable; you grab a pillow and pull it toward you, the faint scent causing your stomach to lurch. It was Joe's scent -- clean and a little musky -- basically your fav scent in the entire world until right this second. You push the pillow away as hot tears stream down your cheeks. What feels like an eternity later you finally drift off to sleep.

A couple hours later you jolt awake, wondering what woke you up for a second before you realize it's your phone; you grab it and check the display -- Joe's mom is calling. You take a deep breath and answer the call. "Hey Robin," you croak.

"Hey sweetie. How are you doing?"

"Okay."

"Good. Listen, Joe told us what happened. We totally understand why you need some space from him for a bit."

"What did he tell you?"

"He said you came home a little early from your brunch and caught him looking at some gross porn. He had an excuse for it but I told him none of that matters."

"I can't believe he told you the truth."

"Well, he feels horrible as he should. How are you?"

You heave a sigh before answering. "I bounce back and forth between being mad as hell and feeling like i overreacted. He didn't mean to hurt me, so I know I should just let it go."

"You didn't overreact," Robin states. "Listen, if you accidentally step on someone's foot, it doesn't hurt any less just because you didn't mean to do it. Same principle here. He didn't mean to hurt you but he did. You're having to deal with negative emotions at a really vulnerable time because of something he did. Don't rush yourself to forgive and forget before you're ready."

"Thank you," you sniff, fighting the urge to cry.

"You're welcome. Joe said your mom is flying in tonight so I know you'll get plenty of love and validation from her. Just know that Jimmy and I are also on your side. Joe is our baby, but we hold him accountable when he does dumb things."

"Thank you," you repeat, hurrying to get off the phone before you break down in tears.

You ease out of bed and head downstairs, pacing around for what seems like ages until your mom pulls into the driveway; you hit the garage door opener so she can pull in, immediately breaking down in sobs when she hops out of her rental car and rushes toward you.

"It's okay," she soothes, holding you tight and rocking back and forth while you sniffle and snort.

"I'm being dumb," you croak.

"No you're not," she states. "You're being human."

You lean back and give her a weak smile. "A dumb human," you laugh, smiling as she grabs her bag and ushers you into the house.

~ ~ Saturday ~ ~

You lie in bed most of the day, switching back and forth between feeling like you overreacted and feeling like you never want Joe to touch you again.

Your mom was great, as expected. Giving you space to sulk while also plying you with yummy food she knew you couldn't resist.

~ ~ Sunday ~ ~

You've been lying in bed all day again, fully embracing the pity-party vibe when your mom strolls into your room just before dinner time. She sits on the edge of your bed and gives you an enigmatic look. "You ready to talk to him?" she asks, giving you a sympathetic smile when you make a stank face. "Listen," she continues, "let me call him. I'll put him on speaker. Maybe hearing his voice will make you want to talk to him. Or not," she shrugs.

You consider it for a minute before responding. "Okay," you sigh, sitting up while she calls him. The sound of his voice hits you like an electric shock; after regaining your composure you shake your head and tune back in to the conversation.

"I'm doing okay, I guess," Joe says. "How's y/n?"

"She's doing … okay," your mom mutters. "I think she's feeling a little better."

Joe heaves a sigh before speaking. "I can't believe I messed things up so bad. The entire pregnancy has been this magical time for us and I screwed it up by being stupid! I ruined everything and now she hates me," he grits out, self-loathing dripping from every word.

"I don't hate you," you state, a little disconcerted at the strangled noise he makes. Your mom hands you the phone and walks out of the room to give you some privacy. "You were on speaker," you continue. "I should have warned …"

"It's okay," he blurts. "You're not mad at me anymore?"

You take a deep breath. "My feelings are still hurt, but I'm not mad. I guess that's a step in the right direction."

"Yeah." The silence stretches out for a minute before he breaks it. "I'm so sorry I hurt your feelings."

"I know. -- If you want to come to the doctor with me tomorrow, you need to be home by 9:15 a.m."

"Thank you," he murmurs. "Can I come home tonight?" he asks. "It's fine if you say no. I don't mean to be pushy."

"It's kind of late."

"I can't sleep anyway. If I leave now I'll be home around 10:00. You don't have to wait up for me."

"I can't sleep either," you sigh. "Listen, I'm not ready for you to touch me or see me naked."

There's several beats of silence before he responds. "I understand."

"Good. Be careful, okay? Don't speed."

"Okay. See you in a couple hours."

You end the call and walk downstairs, sitting on the sofa beside your mom. "He's coming home tonight. He'll be here by 10:00."

"Is he taking you to the doctor tomorrow?"

"Yeah." You rub your belly as you continue. "This is his baby, too. He deserves to be there when we get the news. 99% chance we'll be scheduling a C-section."

"Probably," your mom agrees, "but everything's gonna be fine," she soothes. "You're young, healthy and you have a great doctor." You nod your head then frown as she mentions booking herself a flight back to Dallas.

"When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'll need to head to the airport around 8:30 if I book the early flight. Is that okay?"

"Yeah." You give her a sheepish smile. "Sorry you had to come babysit me for a few days since I threw a hissy fit."

"You had every right to those feelings. Don't feel a bit bad about it."

After eating dinner and watching TV together for a while, your mom heads off to bed and you go upstairs to take a shower. Once you towel yourself dry you study your reflection in the mirror, wishing you could hit rewind and go back to the loving, teasing vibe you had with Joe before the shit hit the fan.

He was absolutely right when he said the whole pregnancy had been a magical time for y'all. You were both pleasantly surprised when your high libido didn't dip at all, but the further along you got, the more self-conscious you got over your growing belly. Joe hadn't seemed to lose any attraction at all which did wonders for your self-confidence.

But now you know he was lying, Wrecking Ball sneers. His ass doesn't deserve to see you naked again until you're completely comfortable with it. Baby boy might be eating solid food by then.

He wasn't lying! Cool Logic argues. That porn he searched for is the exact same thing you did to get him worked up.

"I'm truly losing my shit," you mutter, pulling on a pair of boyshorts and a voluminous maternity tee before walking into the bedroom; you sit in the rocking chair Joe bought for you, looking around at the makeshift nursery y'all had set up in the sitting area of your oversized bedroom: a crib, changing table, diaper genie, small dresser & rocking chair. Jace will eventually have his own room just down the hall, but you and Joe couldn't stand the thought of sleeping in a completely different room away from your baby boy for the first few months.

After a few more minutes just rocking and trying to clear your mind, you hear the faint mechanical hum of the automatic garage door opener signaling the arrival of Joe. A few minutes after that he sticks his head in the bedroom door, smiling when he sees you in the rocking chair. "Hey," he whispers, hovering in the doorway.

"Hey. Come in," you beckon, your heart hurting when you take in the dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. You know you don't look any better.

"How do you feel?" he asks.

"Remember that gigantic prize-winning watermelon at the county fair last summer? I feel like I swallowed it."

"That bad, huh?"

"Pretty bad. -- How was your drive? You made good time."

"Traffic was light."

"And you were speeding."

"Maybe a little," he shrugs, giving you a tired grin as he walks toward you and drops to the floor at your feet, sitting cross-legged. He clears his throat and lifts his gaze to yours. "Remember when we first met?"

The question catches you off guard. "Yeah," you answer, trying to read his expression.

"I thought you'd never agree to go out with me," he mutters, "but then you finally did and we've been inseparable ever since."

You're still not sure where he's going with this, so you just smile as your mind wanders back to your sophomore year at LSU.

There had been a buzz on campus about the new transfer QB from Ohio State; one of your good friends was a cheerleader so you'd been to several parties where Joe was present. You'd avoided him like the plague since you figured he was a raging fuck boy. He was persistent as hell, you had to give him that. You shot him down at least a dozen times before you finally agreed to go get ice cream with him. The rest was history.

Joe clearing his throat pulls you back into the moment. He takes a deep breath before speaking. "I, ummm, I've been wondering if you wish you had more … experiences before we got together."

"Experiences?" you echo, furrowing your brow while he looks distinctly uncomfortable. "What do you mean?"

He chews on his bottom lip and runs a hand through his unruly curls. "I'm your first and only lover. Maybe you wonder what it would be like with another man."

You stare at him for several seconds before responding. "What have you been smoking?" you chuckle. "I know you're not serious." You shake your head in disbelief while he fidgets with his thumbnail, the look on his face telling you he's dead serious. "Where did this come from?" you ask.

He mumbles something under his breath while staring at the floor.

"I didn't catch that."

He heaves a sigh and repeats himself loud enough for you to hear. "It's just … that video dude got me thinking you might want another man."

"Video dude?"

"You know," he mumbles, mimicking jacking off.

"You've got to be kidding," you mutter, shaking your head when he gives a shrug. "Let me get this straight. You think I'm thirsting for random dick because I pulled a petty stunt to give you a little taste of your own medicine?"

"Something like that."

"I turned that video off the second you walked out the door," you admit. He shrugs again and continues to stare at the floor. "Look at me, please." You wait for him to comply before continuing. "I don't want another man. Not now. Not ever. Okay?"

"Guess I shouldn't have spent the entire week-end worrying about it," he grumbles.

"Guess not," you state. "So should I be worried that you want other women?"

"Of course not," he scoffs, looking completely offended at the question.

"I mean, this whole thing started because I caught you …"

"I was trying to find someone who looks like you," he butts in. "I know you don't believe me, but that's the absolute truth."

"Let's leave that in the past," you mutter. "But since you brought up being my first, I have to admit I've always been a little insecure about it. Can't help but wonder if I'm as good as other girls you've been with who were more experienced."

"You're by far the best. If it was any better I'd have a stroke." You chew on your lip as he continues. "There's literally no way the sex could get any better. We're made for each other." He scoots closer and locks eyes with you, his expression as passionate as his words. "We're compatible on every single wavelength: mentally, emotionally, intellectually, physically, chemically. I always thought the whole pheromone thing was total bullshit until I met you."

You give him a smile as he plows ahead, heartfelt words spilling from his pretty lips.

"You've been the one consistently amazing thing in my life, always there for me at my highest of highs and lowest of lows. I love you more than anything, but I don't think I've done a very good job of showing it. I hope you'll give me another chance to prove it."

You can tell that last part was completely rehearsed, but somehow that makes it sweeter. "You've done a good job of showing it, Joe. This one setback doesn't erase all of that. I just need a little more time to get over it. As long as you don't try to rush me we'll be fine."

"I'll do whatever you want."

"Right now I want to get some rest." You ease out of the rocking chair and head for the bed, sliding between the cool, clean sheets while he watches, clearly not sure what to do. "You can sleep with me, but I don't want to be touched," you state, pretending not to notice the disappointment on his face. "Okay," he sighs, obviously dying to say something else but biting his lip before walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth and undress. He eventually comes out and clicks off the bedside lamp before crawling into bed. "Goodnight," he whispers. "Night," you answer,

You wake up the next morning to the smell of breakfast cooking. Mom's up early, you think, stretching before turning to look at Joe; his side of the bed is empty and you laugh to yourself. "Nothing gets that man out of bed faster than the smell of yummy food cooking."

You pee, wash your face and put your long, wavy hair in a high ponytail before making your way downstairs, surprised to see Joe standing at the stove. "Smells good," you sigh, smiling when he throws you a quick look over his shoulder as you slide onto a barstool.

"Scrambled eggs, turkey sausage and multi-grain toast," he says, dishing food onto a plate and setting it in front of you. He quickly grabs the raspberry jam out of the fridge, giving you a smile as he sets it down. "Thank you. All of my favs," you say, returning his smile while you slather jam on your toast. He watches you tuck into the hearty breakfast, his gaze going a bit feral as you suck a dab of jam off of a finger. You both freeze in that moment, neither of you breathing for a second until the spell is broken by your mom walking into the kitchen.

The rest of the morning flashes by in a blur. Your mom has a quick breakfast before heading to the airport; you and Joe finish breakfast and get dressed before heading to your doctor appointment.

A couple hours later y'all are heading back home from the doctor; as Joe pulls out of the parking lot he instinctively reaches a hand over to rest on your leg, catching himself just before he makes contact. He awkwardly rests his hand on the center console instead, his eyes going wide when you grab his hand and place it on your thigh, smiling at him when he shoots you a quick look.

Once y'all arrive home, you're both subdued by the news you received. You can tell Joe is trying to think of something soothing to say when his phone chirps; he makes a face when he reads the text.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "Sam wants me to go workout with him."

"Do it!" you urge.

"You trying to get rid of me?" he grumbles.

"No. I just think you'll feel better if you go. Plus I have a few phone calls to make."

"I don't wanna leave you alone."

"I'll be fine," you soothe. "If anything happens I'll call 911. They'll be here in less than 5 minutes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Go break a sweat. You'll feel better."

Once Joe leaves you make several phone calls to family and a few close friends to give them the news; the only person you can't reach is your best friend so you leave her a message. She calls a little while later when you're finishing up a few chores. You slide onto a barstool at the kitchen counter and accept the call.

"Hey girl," you greet.

"Hey! What did the doc say?"

"C-section."

"I guess we kind of expected that. You know, I think I'd rather have a C-section than a vaginal birth so this seems like a good thing to me."

"Thanks for trying to make me feel better."

"I'm dead serious, girl. I don't love the idea of pushing something the size of a Christmas ham out of my cooch! And you know lil man is gonna have a huge head just like his daddy."

You laugh at her serious tone. "He is big. They estimate he'll be close to 9 pounds."

"Lawd, makes my vag cringe just thinking about it. Remind me to never make babies with a big boy."

"Making babies with a big boy is definitely something I recommend."

"Really?"

"For sure. A damn-near 9 pound baby doesn't seem so bad when you're getting damn-near 9 inches from daddy anytime you want it." You almost drop your phone when Joe clears his throat behind you as your bestie cackles at your dirty advice. You spin your barstool around and lock eyes with him. "Speak of the devil," you murmur. "Listen girl, I gotta run. Call you back later."

"Hey," Joe says, trying and failing not to look smug as fuck.

"Hey Mr. Nosy. You gonna make a habit of eavesdropping?"

"No, ma'am." He smiles as he walks toward you with that long-legged, loose-hipped stride that always makes your knees weak. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I figured you heard me come in."

"Well, I obviously didn't," you snark, trying hard to keep a stern look on your face.

"Obvs," he mutters, laughing when you narrow your eyes at him. "Sorry," he coughs, handing you a gift bag. "I picked up a few things I thought you might like. I know you haven't felt like shopping since …"

You bite your lip as his voice trails off, waiting for the pang of sadness to hit when thinking about that awful day; you feel a flood of relief when the pang doesn't rear its ugly head.

"Thanks," you smile, taking in Joe's deer-in-the-headlights look for a second before reaching into the gift bag. You hear him exhale as you pull the tissue paper out. Over the next few minutes you pull out a ridiculous amount of Bengals and LSU baby gear: several onesies, booties, blankets, bibs, and other baby goodies. "How did you get these?" you ask. "Most of them have been back-ordered forever."

"I pulled some strings."

"Thank you. I love all of it," you gush, struggling a little to slide off the barstool before he steps forward and grabs you by the hips, easing you to the ground as if you're light as a feather. You link your arms around his waist and give him as tight of a hug as your belly will allow, feeling a different kind of pang when he buries his nose in your hair and takes a deep breath, his big hands sliding up and down your back like he hasn't touched you in ages. You get a little flustered at his touch and step back. "I … ummm … I think I'm gonna go take a nap," you blurt out, your pulse picking up at the way his gaze drops down to your lips and lingers there while you speak, like he's considering kissing you but scared of your reaction.

"Sounds good," he murmurs, dragging his gaze from your lips to your eyes. "I'm just gonna crash on the sofa and watch TV."

"Cool," you say, hurrying to the stairs, wondering if you'll ever feel 100% comfortable around him again.

After tossing and turning in bed for about 45 minutes, you finally give up on getting a nap and make your way back downstairs; you hear Joe talking on the phone as you walk toward the living room. "I'm nervous, but I can't let it show," he says. "I've gotta be strong for her. -- I know the risks are lower because the C-section is planned, but it's still scary as hell. I don't know what I'd do if something bad happened. I can't live without her."

That last sentence brings tears to your eyes and you sniffle a bit as they start falling. Joe's head immediately pops up over the back of the sofa. "Gotta go, Mom. Call you back later." He ends the call as you walk into the living room. "How long were you standing there?" he asks. "Long enough," you whisper, wiping tears off of your cheeks as you take in the glorious sight of him sprawled out, shirtless with tousled curls, long legs stretching the entire length of the oversized sofa. "I can't live without you either," you sniff.

"Come here," he urges, patting his bare chest. You crawl between his spread thighs and turn onto your side a bit, laying your belly against him.

"This is the most comfortable I've been in ages," you sigh, eyes fluttering closed as his long fingers massage the back of your neck.

"Good. Get some sleep," he whispers, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"I feel like I'm crushing you."

"Woman, I bench press way fucking more than your trifling weight. You couldn't crush me if you tried."

You laugh at his cocky tone. "Okay," you yawn, snuggling your face against his bare chest, lulled by his familiar scent as you drift off to sleep.

Later that night, after dinner and a few episodes of Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey, you wake up in bed hot and sweaty. You throw the covers off and lie there for another few minutes before easing out of bed to head for the bathroom. You strip your shirt off and run a cool, damp washcloth over your neck, chest and belly, sighing in relief as the cool cloth caresses your heated skin.

When you're done, you think about returning to bed without a shirt, but you're too self-conscious. You heave a defeated sigh as you walk into the closet for a clean t-shirt, immediately reaching for one of Joe's; a small smile graces your lips as you pull the shirt on. Just a couple days ago the thought of his shirts touching you made you lose your mind. Today it feels totally normal, totally right. It's a small victory but you'll take it.

When you walk back into the bedroom Joe hands you a glass of cold water. "Thanks," you sigh, gulping half of it down before setting it on the bedside table. "You'll be cooler without the t-shirt," he says, his expression heavy with concern as you look up at him in the amber glow of the hallway light. "I'm still not really comfortable with you seeing me like that," you mumble, feeling a little silly. "Stay right here," he says, rushing to turn off the hallway light before turning on a much dimmer bathroom light; he pulls the bathroom door almost all the way closed before walking up to you in the near-total darkness.

"Better?" he asks. "Yeah," you answer, lifting your arms up as he grabs the hem of your shirt and gently pulls it over your head; he then picks you up bridal-style and lays you on the bed. "You want any covers?" he asks. "Just the sheet please," you reply, holding your breath until he slides back into bed beside you. "You good?" he asks. "Yeah," you whisper, feeling weirdly exposed as you try to get comfortable, the silky sheets rubbing against your sensitive nipples in a way that makes your core react. Simmer down, you think to yourself, tossing and turning, restless as hell due to equal parts anxiety and arousal.

After several minutes, Joe wraps an arm around you. "I know you're scared, baby. Wish I could fix it for you," he whispers, pulling you close, your back against his chest.

You squirm in his embrace a little. "I'm def scared but I'm also …"

"Also what?"

"Super horny," you mumble into your pillow.

"Oh." He gives a surprised chuckle. "Well I can fix that," he boasts, pressing a kiss on your bare shoulder before pushing your hair aside to gently blow on the back of your neck. "Let me help," he urges. You hesitate for a bit. "Please?" he whispers.

You eventually roll onto your back, sighing as he gently ghosts his fingertips over your sensitive nipples while kissing your neck. He avoids your belly as he slides a hand down to your crotch, teasing you through your panties for a bit before slipping his fingers inside.

Damn, he's so good with his hands, you think, your breath catching in your throat as he hits your sweet spot, quickly sending you over the edge while he whispers dirty encouragement in your ear.

A few heartbeats later, you finally catch your breath. "Your turn," you whisper.

"You just need to rest, don't worry about me."

You're entire body goes cold. "You're not attracted to me," you state matter-of-factly. "I knew it."

Joe doesn't say a word, just reaches out for your hand and places it on his raging erection. "Oh," you whisper. "Let me help you with that," you offer, gasping when he wraps his big hand around your much smaller one, pumping for a few slow, steady strokes before picking up the pace, his hips snapping up into the strokes for a few minutes before he falls over the edge.

You listen to him catch his breath for a bit before speaking. "I feel sweaty and sticky," you whisper. "I'm going to take a shower." You wait a few seconds before continuing. "You wanna join me?"

"Yes," he immediately answers. "But …"

"But what?" you ask, trying to make out his expression in the semi-darkness.

"We'll have to have more light than this. It's too dangerous to shower in the dark in case you slip. If you don't want me to join …"

"I want you," you interrupt, easing out of bed.

"Are you sure?" he asks, blinking in surprise when you turn on the bedside lamp. His eyes travel from your face to your breasts then down over the swell of your belly before slowing reversing course. When he locks eyes with you again you can tell he's holding back tears, his plump bottom lip quivering in a way that tugs at your heartstrings.

"Come on, daddy," you whisper, holding a hand out to him. He leaps off the bed and takes a step toward you; when he puts his hand in yours you feel something bloom deep inside you, something much more powerful and primal then mere arousal. He leans down and nuzzles his face against your neck just as his tears start falling. You use your free hand to stroke his back soothingly, your own tears streaming down your face for a bit before he leans back and locks eyes with you.

"I love you more than anything," he sniffs, kissing the tears off of your cheeks. "I love you too" you whisper, cupping a hand around the back of his neck to pull him in for a kiss, breathing a sigh of relief into his mouth when the happy tears spilling down your cheeks mingle with his own happy tears in a way that feels cathartic.

The next several days leading up to your C-section are spent almost exclusively together, with Joe working out in your home gym instead of going to Black Sheep or the Bengals facility. Y'all share baths and showers, with Joe insisting on rubbing moisturizer on your belly several times a day hoping to feel Jace kick, his face lighting up every time it happens; after one particularly hard kick, Joe can't contain his excitement. "Gah-lee!" he chuckles. "What a kick! He's definitely gonna train MMA."

"He's most definitely not!" you snap, smiling to soften your words.

The night before your surgery Joe never lets you get more than arm's length away from him, giving you gentle touches on your hips, belly, the small of your back, all while doing an amazing job of playing host to both sets of parents who are spending the night with y'all in anticipation of baby boy's arrival tomorrow.

A few hours after dinner, with both sets of parents tucked into their guest rooms for the night, you and Joe are lying in bed wide awake.

"You're scared aren't you?" you whisper, staring at the ceiling while Joe tosses and turns.

"Is it that obvious?" he asks, rolling onto his side so he can look down at you.

"Yeah." You give him a reassuring smile before tweaking a curl that's fallen onto his forehead. "Fear isn't a normal emotion for you, so it's a little obvious."

"I probably shouldn't admit this," he mutters, "but I've never been this scared." He leans down and gives you a quick kiss before continuing. "When my knee got blown out and we didn't know if I'd ever play football again, I wasn't even remotely this scared. You know why?" he asks.

"Why?"

"Because I can live without football, but I can't live without you."

You feel your entire world condense down to this moment with this man. "I love you more than anything," you breathe, repeating the words he's said to you so many times recently. "And I'm gonna be just fine," you continue, cradling his head when he nuzzles his face against your neck. "Are you excited to meet our baby boy tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he sniffs, fighting back tears. "Excited to bring both of you home and spoil you rotten."

"I'm gonna remind you of that in a few weeks," you tease.

"No need for reminders," he chuckles, giving you another kiss before snuggling you in his embrace.

~ ~ 9 weeks later ~ ~

You rock gently in the rocking chair, staring down at your baby boy who is happily nursing without a care in the world. You close your eyes and let your mind wander back over the past several weeks:

The first few weeks postpartum you and Joe had been dead tired from tending to the constant needs of a newborn. Thankfully it was the off-season since Joe insisted on getting up with you for late-night feedings, which meant neither one of you got good sleep. He was completely enthralled watching Jace breastfeed, and y'all got in the habit of Joe doing skin-to-skin with Jace after each feeding.

Joe handled being a dad with the same mindset he handled everything else in his life -- 100% effort, even on the not-so-fun parts like changing stinky diapers. You thought it was impossible to be more in love with him, but watching him with his baby boy had given you a deeper appreciation and love for him.

Once Jace settled into a more predictable routine, you and Joe had a little more time to be partners and not just parents. You shared a nice amount of non-sexual intimacy during this time -- shared baths/showers, massages, naps and plenty of cuddling. It took a while before you convinced Joe to let you get him off; he thought it was selfish for him to get his needs met since you didn't want him to reciprocate just yet. You promised he could make it up to you when you were fully healed.

Over the last week y'all had eased back into PIV sex, with Joe being super careful -- almost too careful -- with you.

You have other ideas for tonight. You smile as you think about the evening ahead. Gonna put that man on his back and take over, you think to yourself, a swarm of butterflies taking flight in your stomach when you hear the faint sound of the garage door opening.

"Daddy's home," you croon, staring down into Jace's aquamarine eyes as he continues to nurse. He's the spitting image of Joe: a head full of wavy blonde hair, big blue-green eyes, Cupid's bow lips and long legs.

As you wait for Joe to come upstairs, your attention is captured by the shiny bracelet on your wrist. Joe had given you a tennis bracelet with all 3 birthstones on it -- yours, Joe's and Jace's -- alternating with diamonds. You wiggle your wrist a bit, watching the gems glint in the light of the late-afternoon sun streaming in the window.

Joe walks into the room, his face lighting up when he sees you nursing Jace. He approaches quickly, looking down at you for a minute before speaking. "The most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he sighs.

"Yep," you agree. "He's gonna be a total stud just like his daddy."

"I was talking about you," Joe murmurs, leaning down to kiss you. "But yeah, he's a total cutie too," Joe croons, kissing Jace's forehead before standing back up.

"Your turn," you say as Jace finishes nursing, smiling when Joe whips his t-shirt off before reaching for the baby. You switch places, with Joe sitting in the rocking chair cradling Jace against his bare chest and you standing over them. The look on your face prompts Joe to ask you a question.

"What are you thinking?"

"That I've never been happier than I am right now," you whisper, leaning down to drop a quick kiss on Joe's lips.

"Oh you just wait!" he says, smiling ear to ear. "From this day forward, I'm gonna make sure every. single. day. you spend with me is happier than the next."

"Yeah? That sounds like a pretty big task."

"I never back down from a challenge," he brags, giving you a playful wink as you turn and head for the shower, his gaze raking over your curves and his pulse picking up at the hint of promise in your throaty laughter.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine

428 notes · View notes

romanarose · 12 days

Note

how would the boys react to me referring to them as my baby daddy (with no pregnancy in sight) 🤭

Okay listen first of all. How dare you stress them like this. dont they got through enough.

second

Stephen

His eyes go wide

For a second he's a little confused. Maybe he feels like its back in his 'insomnia' days and is like... did I miss something?

Then he sees the smile twinkle in your eye and he realizes you're joking, making him relax and chuckle.

"She's a cheeky one, isn't she lads?" He might ask rhetorically. For the rest of the night as he fights off questions of oh your having a baby, when are they due, oh no baby? are you trying? He makes sure to turn to you.

Sometimes you catch him across the room in a conversation and he pretend glares at you and you just know what he'd being asked.

Think's it's hilarious as you drive him home, both of you laughing so much it's almost dangerous to be driving.

Jack

Immediately knows your fucking with him

Laughs and does you a one up.

"Well, it's either me or the other two"

This goes over the heads of everyone, and now he made you look like a whore among your own group

beat at your own game

play stupid games win stupid prizes

You spend the night trying to embarrass each other more

"He thinks the baby is his, but he barely made it inside before cumming so, who knows"

Next party, he introduced you as his "first wife"

Mark

Why would you do this to him

He's just a guy

Isn't he under enough stress?

You quickly tell him you're joking

Dude looks like he's having flashbacks to 'Nam

"Oh! Your... not?"

You assure him if you were, he would be the secod to know. Well, third. After you and the baby.

He's more confused now you're losing him he needs a smoke.

Outside you're like???? What's wrong baby?

he's like... "well what if you actually were pregnant would that be so bad??"

You said no that wouldnt be bad....

He suggests you start tonight

*Proceeds to rail you in the bathroom and cum inside 3 times because he's got god on his side*

ANYWAY

#marc spector x reader #marc spector #marc spector x you #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you

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cassidymb121 · 16 days

Text

OMG It’s You… (Part 5)

YouTube!Fem reader x Stray Kids

Summary: Y/N’s YouTube channel is taking off after her reactions to Stray Kids MV God’s Menu. Now she’s making videos nonstop along with working a full time job. What would happen if she got offered a job of a lifetime and met the boys of her succession?

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Lee Know scolding his Hyung, talks of feeling guilty, jealous, frustration, crying, family issues, Chan and reader not feeling good enough, Chan feeling like a bad leader, teasing, comforting, talks of mental and emotional abuse

🏷️: @laylasbunbunny @weirdowithaphone @silverstarburst @jusanontstuff @anxiousskylar @drewsandsebastianswife @amararosesblog @niaalove (Taglist open)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

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Third Person POV

Chan, feeling guilty, had been standing outside the Maknae/Lee Know’s door. Ever since he himself got onto Felix about being so obsessed with Y/N’s channel, his little Aussie brother has been avoiding him. The only time he interacts with Chan is when he has to, otherwise he avoids him like the plague. It didn’t help that his mind kept replaying his conversation with Lee Know after said dance leader came over to talk to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flashback

Lee Know has been pacing back and forth in front of his only Hyung. His emotions were all over the place. Chan’s eyes were following his every move. He was waiting for him to explode. He knew it wouldn’t be much longer before he did. Lee Know finally speaks up. “Do you know what I walked into, mmhm? Our son crying, because not only did his brothers tease him, but his own Father got onto him about something he can’t control.” He stops pacing and Chan’s body stiffens. His eyes were wandering all around Lee Know, trying to gauge what his next move is going to be.

“I’ve told you time and time before just how sensitive he can be when it comes to her. You and I both just how easy it is to get attached to something or someone. Yet you let your emotions control your actions and you took it out on someone. Did you even apologize like I told you to?” Chan looked away, making Lee Know scuff. “How am I not surprised?” Chan goes to open his mouth, but Lee Know stops him. “I don’t care how stressed out you are about this new comeback.” Lee Know finally sits down beside his Hyung. “Look, you know that I will always support you and have your back. I’ve always looked up to you Chan Hyung for how much responsibility you take on for us, and I know it’s not easy being the leader of a group. Sometimes you forget that you’re not alone and you have people who want to help you.”

Chan nods his head, trying to keep his tears at bay, but even his younger brother can see he’s struggling. Lee Know surprises his Hyung by wrapping his arms around him. At first Chan didn’t know if he was just imagining it or not, but then Lee Know speaks up. “Are you going to hug me back or not? Because I will pull away.” Lee Know teases him and that’s all Chan needed before he returns the hug. Chan lets a few tears slip from his eyes, holding on to Lee Know. “I’m sorry Min. You’re right, I do let things get to me. I guess the fight between them too was my breaking point.”

When Lee Know finally pulls back after some time, he looks up at Chan. “I know, but just remember that I can help you. You’re not alone.”

End of Flashback

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They ended up staying like that for a while. Lee Know telling him that if he apologizes to Felix, then that should fix the problem. At least he hopes it will. Finally knocking on the door, Lee Know opens it. “That took you a while.” He teases his Hyung, making said Hyung roll his eyes playfully. “Is he in his room?” His other half bobs his head. “He’s been in there for a while. He’s come out to eat, but then goes back to his room.” Chan acknowledges him before going over to his little brother’s room. He knocks on the door and hears movement inside. Footsteps reach the door before the door knob turns, revealing Felix.

Felix, seeing his oldest Hyung, goes to close the door, but he gets stopped by Chan. “Can we please talk Felix?” Before Felix can respond, Chan continues. “You don’t have to say anything. I’d like to apologize to you if you’ll let me.” Felix knew that he couldn’t avoid his leader forever, so he lets his Hyung in. Chan enters the room, taking in his surroundings. He could see that he’d been playing a game, but he had been listening to Y/N’s channel. He sighs to himself. Chan places a bag on his nightstand filled with goodies.

“I know that I can’t win you over by food, and I don’t expect you to eat it. I was at the convenience store and picked up some things I know you like.” Chan moves to sit on Felix’s bed while Felix goes to sit in his gaming chair. Chan looks down at his hands before saying what’s on his mind. “I shouldn’t taken my frustration on you.” Felix is avoiding eye contact with Chan and wringing his hands together. Chan continues, watching Felix closely. “With everything going on and me worrying about things I can’t control, the argument you had with Seungmin just topped it off. I let my own emotions control my actions and I shouldn’t have. It’s not fair to you.”

Chan wants to hold his little Sunshine, but he’s afraid he’ll make things worse than it already is. Then again it’s not like Felix is making it better either. He knew that avoiding the impending confrontation wouldn’t go away on its own. Felix takes a glance at his leader to see that he’s struggling too. Chan’s never exploded on any of his members before, especially not Felix. He knew that instead of trying to make things better for Felix, he made it worse to point where he’d locked himself in his room crying. When Chan learned this from Lee Know, he never felt as guilty as he did now. He’s always had this feeling like he fails at being a leader, but what he did to Felix really pushed him over the edge.

Chan looked over at the video Felix had been watching. It’s the same one that Felix loves. Chan didn’t express just how much he loved seeing her. The only one that knows is Minho. The dance leader found his Hyung crying while watching that video. Everyone knew, especially his members, how hard of a time he went through while training for those 7 years. He’s told everyone that his members saved his life and his members know this all too well. When he first found Y/N, he felt this emotion in his chest and it didn’t feel like happiness. He felt like she was trying to copy him and he didn’t know how to feel about it. He held some kind of resentment towards her, but one day it all changed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chan had been trying to avoid watching Y/N’s videos, but it was as if she was everywhere. From his FYP on TikTok to YouTube, even Instagram. From his members to the Stays that wouldn’t stop talking about how wonderful she was. It was as if the Universe wouldn’t leave him alone. He couldn’t escape from seeing her beautiful face and those gorgeous y/e/c eyes that haunted him every time he closes his own. He could almost hear her contagious laughter in his head. You’d think he was going insane and needed to be put in an asylum.

He’d had enough with all of it. At this point he was ready to throw his own laptop at the wall. He couldn’t focus on the task at hand anymore. He’s never been this frustrated about someone he’s never met. She’s everywhere he goes yet not there in physical form. He wishes he could find some way to get rid of her, that way he could focus on making music for all these comebacks that are coming up. It didn’t help that all of his members were talking about the latest video she posted.

Finally having enough he forcefully pushes himself away from the desk and it’s down on the couch in the studio. He sees that she just recently posted a new video within the last hour or two. It had already gotten over a million views and 300 thousand likes. He presses down on the video before watching it. She shows up on the video and she looks like a wreck. Eyes bloodshot, nose and cheeks are red and puffy, tears flowing down her cheeks leaving tear stains. She looks like she has been crying for hours. Her hair is a mess, she’s wearing baggy clothes. But one thing that stands out to Chan is she’s wearing a Stray Kids hoodie while holding the Wolf Chan skzoo plush. All of Chan’s frustrations go flying out the window and he’s fully focused on her.

Her lip keeps quivering then she just breaks down and cries. All the times he’s seen her, she’s always smiling and happy, but he’s never seen her like this. He’d give anything to be there with her right then. To hold her and tell her that it’s okay. He doesn’t know who or what caused her to be like this, but he’d do anything to find out and make them pay for upsetting her. She gets up to grab a box of tissues to blow her nose. She had some snot running down from her nose, but he didn’t pay it any attention. “I’m sorry.” She finally says, lips still quivering.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Chan finds himself replying, though she can’t hear him. “I won’t lie to any of y’all and say that I’m okay, because I’m not. Everyone has problems in their life, including me.” She laughs a little. “I never wanted for any of you to ever see this side of me. But today had just been the worst.” She goes on to explain how broken her family is and that she always seems to be caught in the middle of the chaos. She talks about how her mother took her passive aggression out on her for years because she was the only child that wanted to visit her father after their divorce.

She was never physically hurt but was mentally and emotionally abused. How it took years for her to understand what actually happened to her while she lived with her mother and siblings. What caused her breaking point was an argument with one of her siblings and how no one ever seems to understand her. She had cried all the way home and even broke down when she got home. “Moral of the story, everyone has struggles in their own lives and everyone deals with them differently. So please don’t be like me and hold your emotions inside. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel sad. It’s not okay to feel like you’re a burden, because you’re not.” She lets out a shaky breath and Chan can’t remove his eyes from the screen. “Did I want you to see me like this? No, because I know that there’s people out there who will mock me saying that I’m just doing this to get attention. I’m not like that. I have problems just like everyone else. I’m not a robot, I’m a human being that has emotions too. I just act like everything’s okay, but in reality I’m not.” She holds tighter to Wolf Chan. “I hope everyone has a good rest of your day. I will see you all next time. Bye.” She tries to smile and waves with her hand that’s not holding Wolf Chan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You like that video too, don’t you?” Felix looks up at his Hyung seeing him staring at the computer screen. Felix looks at him and nods his head. “It seems I’m not the only one. Lee Know Hyung likes it too.” Chan’s eyes widened, “That’s his favorite too?” Felix nods his head. “He’s never told me that.” Chan replies back to Felix. “He told me when he came to comfort me. I didn’t believe him at first, but when I looked at him I could see he wasn’t lying.” Chan drops his head. ‘Maybe we all like this video.’ He thought to himself.

“I thought you didn’t like Y/N’s channel.” Chan goes to ask him why he would think that, but Felix beat him to it. “Come on, Chan Hyung. We all could see that you didn’t like her from the start. Every time she got mentioned, it was as if someone had kicked Berry. You can’t tell me that you liked her this whole time. What changed? Why get mad at me when the other members were talking about her too?” Chan closed his eyes trying to pull himself together. ‘I guess I wasn’t good at hiding my emotions like I thought I was.’ He thinks to himself.

“A lot happened.” He feels the bed dip beside him and he opens his eyes to see Felix looking at him. “Tell me. Please.” Chan nods before explaining everything. From his frustration with hearing about her all the time to the jealousy he felt because of her. To the video that changed his perspective of Y/N and all the stress he’s been under from the company. He laid everything out there for Felix, hoping that it would possibly explain why he’s done what he did. “I will always regret coming onto you instead of taking a step back and thinking things through. I didn’t realize until it was too late and by then I upset you when I shouldn’t have. I don’t want to be the reason why you cry, but I was. I’m not asking for forgiveness, but I hope you know that I will never to that again.” Chan feels arms wrapping around him and respirates by wrapping his own around Felix. He tightens his arms around him afraid that Felix will disappear if he loosens his arms.

“It’s okay Chan Hyung. I didn’t help any either. I should have talked with you sooner rather than later.” Chan shakes his head and pulls back just enough to look at Felix’s face. “Don’t. The person in the wrong is me, not you.” He grins at Felix, and Felix smiles back. “Did Lee Know did you that the company will let us send Y/N one package or letter each?” Chan’s smile widens and bobs his head. He had been excited when he heard about that. He pulls back completely before replying. “I did. What are you thinking about sending her?” Felix looks around his room. “I’ve been trying to figure that out for a while but I’m stumped.” Chan moves to get up. “Well don’t think too much about it. She’ll love whatever you give her.” Felix agrees. “Wait. What are you going to send her?” Felix asks his leader. Chan smirks. “I guess you’ll find out when she opens the package.” He winks leaving his room.

(A/N: Stray Kids get to send the reader one package or letter each! What do you they they’ll send her? 🤔)

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riality-check · 2 years

Text

The first time Eddie needs an ambulance, he’s just trying to make his brain quiet.

It’s so loud, all the time, and between his memories and vivid nightmares of the Upside Down, he misses silence more than anything. Music isn’t enough to drown it out, no matter how much he cranks up his stereo or his amp. People work fine. As long as he’s talking to or listening to someone, it’s fine. The whole party has been a big help. Dustin, Wayne, and especially Steve help the most.

But they’re not always there. They grow up, move away, and have their own lives. And even though Steve is his boyfriend, and they live together, it’s unrealistic to always expect him to be there, too.

He’s got his own shit going on. He doesn’t need Eddie’s on top of that. Eddie ignores the fact that he will always help Steve.

So, because music doesn’t work and people aren’t there, alcohol is a wonderful thing.

Eddie usually tracks his drinks. He does. But it’s the anniversary of the whole shitshow, and the nightmares are worse and he had a fucking flashback this morning because of the lights. He hasn’t had those for months.

He just needs some goddamn quiet.

He remembers throwing up on the kitchen floor, too sick to make it to the bathroom.

And then he wakes up in a hospital bed, feeling like death reheated.

(He knows, intimately, what that feels like.)

Steve is crying beside him, and Eddie just thinks back to his ten year old self, the little stringbean kid who had to make the call and tried to clean up the vomit before the EMTs got there, and he swears to himself, Never again.

The second time Eddie needs an ambulance, he just got carried away.

It’s too easy, with the clubs he plays in. It’s too easy to lose track of the drinks audience members offer him. It’s even easier to do a line because what the hell, it’s just one.

It’s easy because he and Steve have been fighting. A lot. Steve started drinking more than usual, and Eddie’s been trying to get him to stop. Steve says he’s hypocritical, that Eddie didn’t take rehab seriously because he still keeps beer in the house.

He didn’t think he needed to quit completely; he just needed to get it under control.

He’s aware of the fact that he’s been out of control all night. He’s crossed to hell and back, but he takes another shot.

Steve stayed home because he was sick. Eddie stumbles inside and can’t even close the front door before he’s on the ground.

He hates that he knows what charcoal tastes like now.

The third time Eddie needs an ambulance, he’s scared shitless.

Steve keeps talking about family. About having kids. Eddie looks at the chip on the kitchen counter and can’t help but think, How old would the kid be before I had to explain that to them?

Every answer he comes up with is too young.

Eddie is scared shitless because he knows, he knows that he’ll be just like his parents. He knows that he’ll end up a deadbeat, a drag on both Steve and that kid, and he won’t do that to them.

He thinks about being six years old and being left alone for days at a time. After the first time, he always made sure the cereal was in a spot where he could reach it.

He thinks about being eight years old and cooking for his parents, not the other way around. He had to use a step stool to reach the stove.

He thinks about being ten years old and calling the ambulance because his mama was on the ground again, and this time his pa was out, too.

Eddie will not do that to this kid, and he won’t do it to Steve.

He thinks about an article he read a few months ago. Some new study came out, saying that addiction is genetic.

Figures that’s the part of them I carry with me, he thinks right before his mind slips into nothing.

He wakes up in the hospital again. He’s starting to wish he wouldn’t wake up at all.

The fourth time Eddie needs an ambulance is the first time he’s alone.

After the third time, Steve and him fought like hell. They almost lost each other, and that’s when Eddie realizes he would rather die than have that happen.

He took rehab seriously, and Steve joined AA, too, despite not being as bad. Eddie doesn’t play in clubs anymore. There’s no alcohol in the house, hasn’t been for years. He cut off all contact with his old dealers.

He misses it.

He doesn’t miss the high, not really. Not when he can have something better by being with his family. Not when he gets the same rush from listening to his favorite albums or turning his amp up to max. Not when he’s with Steve because everything is better when he’s with Steve.

Eddie misses the low because he’s still hurting. Bad days still happen and they’re a bitch to deal with. He still can’t sleep right, after all these years, and he still doesn’t always believe that he deserves a life this good.

He’s hurting, and nobody notices because he looks fine. He’s healthy.

He’s healthy, and that’s the problem, because Eddie misses being sick.

So he crashes, and he crashes hard, and he doesn’t know what he’s thinking when he finally goes out.

He wakes up in the hospital alone.

Alone.

No sign of Steve.

And that’s when Eddie realizes he fucked up the last good thing in his life.

His voice is shredded, but he asks the nurse where he is. She says she’ll call and find out.

Maybe he went to get food. Maybe he went home to sleep. Maybe-

She comes back in and tells him that Steve says he’s glad Eddie is okay, but that he’s not coming back.

Eddie doesn’t bother going back to their apartment before he goes to rehab.

He takes it seriously again. He knows the goddamn script by heart, knows what to do and what not to do, what to say to get out.

It’s the fastest he’s ever gone through the program.

He goes back to their apartment. It looks like Steve never lived there in the first place.

Eddie cleans it up. Calls a few people. Calls Dustin, who lets him know that Steve is alive but doesn’t say anything else.

It’s quiet. Eddie just barely keeps himself from going to the liquor store.

Instead, he gets a fish.

It’s a stupid looking fish. A goldfish that isn’t supposed to last long, maybe a few months. He names it Bagagoth and buys it a tank and makes sure to feed it regularly. If he takes care of himself, he doesn’t kill the fish.

Bagagoth lasts two years before he dies of natural causes. It’s sad, but Eddie doesn’t take it personally. By that time, he’s got a hognose snake named Lancelot and a cat named Ozzie depending on him, too.

If he dies of an overdose, they’ll eat his face. Eddie wants an open casket funeral.

He doesn’t play in bars anymore. He puts down the electric guitar and all its dim-lit, drug addled memories.

He picks up the acoustic and starts playing the music he grew up with. Stuff he heard on the radio as a kid, songs he learned for Wayne when he was first starting out.

Eddie told himself that he wouldn’t play any more hick shit once he learned electric. Hick shit brings him a comfort like no other.

He expands it to some pop, some softer rock. He starts writing his own stuff, much tamer stuff. He stays solo. He plays in cafes in the middle of the afternoon.

It’s boring as shit. It’s better than the headache of a hangover or the bill that comes after a hospital stay.

He actually goes to meetings. He makes new friends and hangs out in parks and at people’s apartments and at comic book shops. He joins a new D&D group as a player, not as a Dungeon Master. His character is a chaotic half-elf bard running from his past.

He makes enough to actually afford a therapist. She’s nice, about his age. She’s got experience with addicts and children of neglect. It takes Eddie a year’s worth of sessions to realize that he is not his parents, and a few more for him to realize that he still deserves good things even after all his fuck ups.

Eddie calls Wayne every Friday night, when two years ago he’d be at a bar. He keeps in touch with the kids and the rest of the party. Dustin tells him Steve got accepted into some master’s program in Chicago, and Eddie tries not to let that hurt so much.

He’s become a regular at a coffee shop a few blocks away. They’ve got an open mic, and while it’s not a paying gig, it gives him the opportunity to play new stuff instead of the acoustic Journey covers a lot of other places want from him.

The best thing about recovering from addiction is that it gave him a lot of new song material.

He sings about darkness, and fear, and pushes and pulls. But he always follows it with light and love and the hope of being battered but not broken.

That’s what he is. He’s got scars that never quite faded, but that chip is still on his counter, and there’s still breath in his fucked up lungs.

He’s almost at the end of his set when he spots Steve in the crowd.

Steve, dressed in a cozy looking blue sweater. Steve, with round frame glasses. Steve, with the tiniest streak of gray in his hair. Steve, whose eyes are alert and shining. Steve, who looks as handsome as ever.

Steve, who’s staring right back at him.

He stammers out an intro to his last song before he just plays, letting the music take over. He sings the first song he wrote after that last rehab stint, when he came home to an empty apartment and instead of cleaning up right away, grabbed his notebook.

It’s the only one he’s ever written that never changed from the first draft.

Steve comes up to him, after, and tells him he doesn’t hate him. Eddie says he doesn’t hate himself anymore. It’s mostly true.

They got their asses in gear. It sticks, this time.

Eddie moves into the apartment Steve has. He takes Lancelot and Ozzie, who are both confused and pleased about their new surroundings. He decorates it with posters and enough plants to constitute a garden because while a lot of things have changed, Steve’s lack of design skills haven’t.

They have a kid. The moment Eddie has her in his arms, he realizes that she will alway be his top priority. Always.

And he knows Steve thinks the same way.

They don’t drink; they dance in the kitchen. They still fight; they have a rule about not going to bed angry.

They love each other, and it sticks this time because they’re not young and self-destructive and plain fucking stupid anymore.

They’ve got years and pain behind them, and they’ve got a lot more years and a lot more love ahead.

(Click here to read Steve’s POV by my wonderful enabler, @hexmionegranger )

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things fic #i’m so sorry this is so angsty #steddie fic #yeah i can’t think of any other tags #yeehaw and thanks hex #fic collab!#this is so rough once again i’m sorry #ria writes

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