#wish he would commit to me the way he committed to wearing that jacket in a million degree weather <3

[dalkyum]

✩ ༉‧₊˚

#yugyeom #kim yugyeom #got7 #got7edit #got7daily #madstual #eritual #userjoanna #ceeblr #aleksbestie #userkathia #is this anythign. i think he's cute #wish he would commit to me the way he committed to wearing that jacket in a million degree weather <3 #ilygif #emigif #414-417

[violetsaffron5]

Dirty Little Secret (2)

Taglist • Ao3 • Social Media • Discord 18+ • Masterlists • ← Chapter 1

↳ 2 | Confessions

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Both you and Satoru have been keeping secrets.

words: 7.1k

cw: restraints, edging, vaginal fingering, oral, rough sex, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding kink, degradation, dacryphilia, cum play, praise kink, pregnancy sex

an: thank you to everyone who has read this little two-shot, especially those who have liked, reblogged and left comments. Those seriously keep me going. I'm not always able to reply to them, but I do read all of them and love them, so thank you!

The boutique store bell dings loudly as you run your hand through several silk dresses looking for a new one to wear when you see Satoru again.

You sigh as you walk around the store, listening to the quiet, barely audible music playing on the overhead speakers. You stop to look at a simple black dress with a cinched waist, visualizing the way it would accentuate your curves before grabbing it off the rack to try on.

Satoru hasn’t been around the last few weeks after his wife showed up at the hotel looking for him because he had missed their therapy appointment.

Every time someone would come to the club with a similar shade of hair, wearing sunglasses or you’d hear a boisterous laugh from across the building, your hopes would instantly rise - that it would be Satoru back to watch you dance and whisk you away for the night.

It hasn’t happened. You’d gone home disappointed every night you’ve worked.

“Excuse me,” a soft, tender voice rings through the air at the front of the store, “can you tell me where you keep your…”

The voice sounds familiar like you’ve heard it before, in a different tone, but you’re unable to place it until you round the corner of the aisle you’re in and spot her.

She looks the same as the last time you saw her, a spitting image from your nightmares manifested in real life to torture you for the sins you’ve committed with her husband.

The picture of perfection: long raven hair in loose curls, high-waisted gray pencil skirt, white top, and cropped jacket. She has black heels on which make her slender legs look even more elegant and long, accentuating her height as she talks to the store attendant.

You’re frozen in place, just staring as your heart beats so frantically in your chest that you feel like it could jump out and explode onto the tile of this tiny boutique.

And then the overhead bell dings again, almost silently due to ringing in your ears and thoughts racing through your mind until you see a head of unmistakable white hair walking towards the woman.

Get out.

That’s the only thing you can think as you take a few short, shallow breaths and look at the garment in your hands with a furrowed brow.

It’s so pretty, and you were going to purchase it but now you just need to put it back and leave as quickly as possible.

As you try to calmly walk down the aisle on wobbly legs, back to where you grabbed the dress you find yourself wishing you had superhuman abilities. Preferably one where you could turn invisible or even warp away and end up anywhere in the world, just so you don’t have to be in this situation right now.

“Shit! I’m so, so sorry,” you frantically yelp when you turn the corner, ready to shove the dress onto any rack and sprint out of the store because you’ve just run into Satoru’s wife.

And not only that, you made her spill her coffee all over her well-pressed, tailored outfit.

Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as you place a hand over your stomach, taking a deep breath, silently talking yourself into not vomiting on her as well.

You’re expecting the worst. Who wouldn’t?

Either she’s going to recognize you from the hotel or Satoru has been working on their marriage, going to counseling like she wanted and that’s why you haven’t seen him in almost a month.

She’s going to know who you are, splash the remnants of her coffee all over you in retaliation, or worse.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she places a gentle hand on your upper arm and gives a sincere smile before shifting into a look of concern, “Sweetie, are you okay? You look a little sick.”

There’s a horrible feeling at the pit of your stomach when Satoru walks up from behind his wife, placing his hand on the small of her back lovingly.

His eyes are unimpeded by his glasses, shining brighter and more crystalline than the prettiest of oceans. They sparkle as he looks down at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips like it’s some divine justice to find you here talking with his wife.

“Satoru, honey, can you be a dear and pay for her dress? I don’t want to cause her any more trouble.”

“You got it.” He retorts cooly before leaning down to place a peck on her lip causing the butterflies in your stomach to scratch and claw. 

You could have handled her being a bitch. Being called every name under the sun if she knew who you were, which she clearly doesn’t. But being nice, and sweet is so much worse.

She doesn’t deserve what you’ve been doing behind her back.

“No, that’s okay,” you manage to croak out finally, “I was going to put it up anyway.”

“Nonsense.” Satoru cuts in, “I bet this will look great on you. Besides, it looks like you’re having a strange day.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed and bewildered, “Yeah, you could say that.”

His wife cocks her head to the side smiling before turning, leading the way to the register upfront, before curiously stating, “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

You begin to answer, an automatic response whenever anyone says they recognize you, “Oh, I dance at-”

“The dance studio.” Satoru interrupts, “She’s a dance instructor.”

“Uhm. Yup. Some would say that.”

She furrows her brows, looking between the two of you before Satoru speaks again, “Don’t you remember? She was one of the instructors for the kids.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” his wife says with a heavy sigh, and a soft laugh, “I didn’t recognize you out and about.”

“No! No, that’s alright,” you smile weakly, confused, “it’s been… a few years since I’ve worked with them, I guess.”

You make uncomfortable small talk with Satoru’s wife, shifting on your feet, trying to quell your stomach while Satoru talks to the man behind the counter, seemingly about anything under the sun, just to take as much time as he can.

It feels like an eternity has passed when the shop attendant finally hands Satoru the bag your dress has been placed in, along with a receipt before he then turns on his heels, handing it to you, letting the tips of your fingers graze over one another in the process.

“Um, thank you. I’ll… see you around?”

It’s a question for Satoru and you know he’s aware, watching the way you bite your bottom lip waiting for his reply as his wife offers a kind, “of course,” before patting Satoru’s arm and walking away.

“Perhaps,” is all he says in response to you, looking you up and down before turning around to follow his wife.

The club is loud tonight, with more bass-heavy music playing than you would typically choose to have during your sets. The lights are the same; dark around the bar and club with colored spotlights on the stage for the performances.

You haven’t danced in over a month. Feeling sick on an almost nightly basis has caused you to move from centerstage off to the side. Now, rather than taking your clothes off, you’re pouring shots and mixed drinks for tips instead.

Satoru hasn’t been in.

In fact, you haven’t seen him since the day he bought the dress you’re currently wearing.

Whenever you’re missing him more than you care to admit, you find yourself wearing this dress or — if you’re not working — the black Versace sweatshirt you stole from him. The sweatshirt is your favorite token of the times you shared.

Because it’s comfortable and oversized and you look in it while you lazily lie on the couch eating too many snacks. Not that your growing belly seems to mind.

“Oh, my god. Sukuna’s here!” Uraume squeals next to you, causing Manami to poke her head in from the back, immediately searching for Suguru. You turn your back to the bar leaning against it.

No point in looking out in the club for Satoru. You know he’s not here. He never is anymore.

Even though Satoru hasn’t come in, his friends have. And you watch as they throw their money down the drain in bottles and bottles of alcohol, whisking away one or several of the dancers, bartenders, or patrons.

And on those nights you can’t help but wish you were still able to spend time with them. But they don’t pay you any mind, and you don’t ask about Satoru. It’s like you’ve never spent time with them outside of the club.

And that level of rejection stings.

“Uraume, I heard Sukuna say he wants to spend some time with you,” you mention offhandedly, folding your arms across your chest, tilting your head in their direction, and flashing your eyebrows.

They waste no time in grabbing a few of the finest bottles the club has to offer before scurrying off in his direction. You snicker to yourself before Manami pouts, telling you how to mean you are while nodding your head toward a customer that’s just sat at the bar.

You’re met with clear blue eyes when you turn around. Eyes you’ve missed, eyes that have always looked like they can see into your soul and wants to devour you whole if you let them, “Who the fuck was that?”

“Uhm, they’ve seen Sukuna around and have a little bit of a crush- why are you here?”

You’re nervous and fidgety and the glass you’ve picked up to pour a drink feels as if it will fall out of your hands at any moment due to your sweaty palms.

And now, more than ever, you wish you could pour yourself a shot. Or rather drink straight from the bottle and pretend Satoru isn’t sitting in front of you.

Your cheeks heat at the sight of him. He’s always looked good, even more so tonight with his black button-down and black slacks, no shades hiding his gorgeous azure orbs from the world, and white hair strategically messy, hanging over his forehead.

Your heart aches, wanting to reach out and touch Satoru’s hand. To sit in his lap and kiss his lips, to taste the spearmint on his tongue that you’ve been trying so hard to convince yourself that you don’t miss.

The good and the bad. You’ve been through both with Satoru.

Now, the unexpected.

“Hear you’re pregnant.”

His voice is clipped with annoyance, eyes wandering your frame as you turn away from him to grab a few bottles. He doesn’t have to order anything, you know what he wants anyway.

“That’s none of your business after you fucking ghosted me.”

“Wanna know how I heard?” He muses, picking up the glass you slide across the bar in his direction before taking a sip, watching you over the rim.

“I don’t care.”

“I got a very interesting phone call this morning that someone leaked it to the press for a lot of money,” he continues anyway and your face could melt from the hole he’s burning in the center of your fucking eyes right now, “you told someone about us.”

You stare back, heart racing, but you don’t have any words to defend yourself. Everyone at the club has been made aware of your… circumstances, and why you switched from dancing to bartending.

But only one person was able to piece it together with a devilish grin, promising to keep your secret. 

Your manager, Mei. 

She watched, day in and day out as Satoru would come in, pay mass amounts of money for your company and take you away with him when he left.

If anyone else had been paying as much attention as her, they would have been able to figure it out too.

“Breaking your NDA,” he continues, swirling the liquid in his cup before taking another swig, “not a smart move. You know, I can sue your ass into the ground for defamation, take everything from you. You and your kid won’t have a home, let alone a leg to stand on. You’ll have to continue being a whore to make ends meet.”

You stare at him, tears threatening to escape the corner of your eye as he stares back, unwavering, emotionless. Your blood is boiling. Pissed that he would come in, in front of everyone, and talk to you this way.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” He always has been, but never to you, not like this. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

“Seems like you weren’t going to bother telling me at all.”

“Did you expect me to just call you up? Say ‘Hey, by the way, I know we’ve been fucking for the last year but now I’m pregnant, surprise!’ while you’re standing next to your wife?”

“Would you keep your voice down?” Satoru seethes through clenched teeth as another patron comes to the bar, raising an eyebrow at your obviously shaken demeanor.

You grab the towel on the counter, wiping a few spots where alcohol had splashed while making Satoru’s drink, hands shaking as you choke back a sob, refusing to look at Satoru or the other guests.

“Can I get a-”

“I can’t do this right now,” you interject, shoving the towel in Manami’s hands as she comes up from the back, “I’m going on break.”

You stand, outside, against the brick wall of the club in a dirty ally taking several deep breaths, head tilted back, eyes closed, as you focus on your breathing.

The pregnancy was a shock. You and Satoru had only been together one time, unprotected, and fate decided to play the cruelest of jokes on you.

You cried when you found out. Debated on calling Satoru, unsure of what to do. You’re still not entirely sure what you want to do.

You’re still in the first trimester, so you have plenty of options, though none of them seem all that appealing.

Kids were something you always saw yourself with. Way, way, in the future.

And not from this sort of situation. You had always hoped to be more settled, calmed down, and less wild than you are now, having wanted to live your life to the absolute fullest before bringing life into the world.

But sometimes life has other plans. And now all you can do is move forward and figure out your next move.

The door from the back entrance creeks open, and you know who it is without having to turn your head or open your eyes.

There is one thought that’s been in the back of your mind, should you ever see Satoru again, should he ever find out;

“You don’t have to stay, you don’t have to be involved in any way.” Your voice is quiet, dejected, “I’ll deny the claims to the press,” You open your eyes, watching him from the corner, “I’m not even sure if I want to keep it.”

He nods his head slowly, hands in his pocket, expression almost sad at your announcement, “Maybe we should talk this through before either of us makes any rash decisions.”

The car ride is quiet, and tense, as Satoru takes you to an apartment complex near Shibuya.

It’s not uncommon for him to take you to places you don’t recognize, but you’re more nervous tonight than any other, unsure of what’s going to happen.

You’ve never seen him this mad before.

He doesn’t bother opening the door for you, opting instead to quickly get out of his luxurious car and begin walking to the lobby from the underground parking garage you’re in, expecting you to follow suit.

And you do, diligently, quietly.

Your heels click on the marble flooring, echoing through the silent lobby as you watch Satoru nod his head toward the concierge before stopping at the elevator.

Satoru swipes a card before pressing a button for the penthouse. The ride to the top is the same as the ride here; tense, terse, and the air is thick with anger and words left unsaid.

The elevator opens at a small lobby, with one door directly in front of it where Satoru swipes his card again before opening it. Expecting you to follow him inside.

And once you’re there, your back is immediately pressed against the door, Satoru’s lips on yours in a wild, frenzied, yet passionate kiss.

The kind of kiss where your teeth scrape together, where you wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his soft tresses as he kisses down your neck before licking a strip up from your chest to cheek.

“Satoru…” it’s not a complaint, even if you meant it to be one.

Having him here and now, in your arms once again, something you didn’t think was going to happen is more than you could have asked for.

Satoru presses his body weight against you, pushing you harder into the door before lifting you by your thighs, and carrying you out of the foyer.

After a few turns, you’re laid gently on a soft surface, Satoru climbing over you as your tongues continue to meld together, until he eventually pulls away, thumb tracing the outline of your now kiss-swollen lips.

“Stay here.” He demands, before getting off the bed and walking to a door on the other side of the room you’re in.

It’s an overly large bedroom with two nightstands on either side of the oversized bed, a dresser across with a mirror to the side of the bed, and modern paintings akin to something an interior decorator would select.

But it’s also filled with objects you recognize. A stand filled with the little black sunglasses he likes to wear at night, a hamper next to the dresser, overflowing with soft black tee shirts he likes to wear under his button-ups.

“Move to the top of the bed.” You're startled from looking around when Satoru emerges, but do as he’s said, resting your head against the softest pillows you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying on. Like little clouds brought down from the highest points in the sky, just for you.

He sheds his shirt, tossing it in the general direction of the hamper you saw earlier, before undoing his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft clatter before crawling onto the bed, eclipsing your body with a nefarious smirk.

Satoru presses his lips against yours in a slow, sensual kiss, like you’ve never experienced from him before. Your lips move in tandem, tongues tangling together as you relax, melting into the way his large hands slide down the length of yours while straddling your hips.

He smirks when you let out a breathy sigh before raising both your arms above your head, crossing your wrists, and using a soft white fabric to tie them to the bedframe.

You watch with big doe eyes as he tests the knots he’s created, making sure they’re not going to break loose before looking at you with softer eyes than you’ve seen all night, maybe ever. Satoru studies your face, eyes flickering across your features before his gaze shifts down.

“Pretty dress,” he pulls on the shoulder strap letting it snap against your skin when he lets go, “is this the one you were buying when you spilled coffee on my wife?”

Your brows furrow, realizing just how helpless you are in this position before swallowing thickly, answering quietly, “Y-Yes.”

Satoru clicks his tongue, fingertips gliding over the skin of your chest causing goosebumps to form before grabbing the thin silk fabric at your breasts-

“What-”

He rips the fabric open, exposing your bare chest.

“A- ”

Another tug and the fabric rips down to your navel.

“Shame.”

Your chest is heaving, tits rising and falling in anticipation, wondering what he’s going to do next.

You’d be upset that he just ripped an incredibly expensive dress if there wasn’t a fire burning in your core, desire running rampant, waiting for him to touch you in all the ways you’ve been dying for the last few months.

Satoru leans over you, pulling out a silk black fabric from his pocket, gently sliding it over your head to cover your eyes. It’s so dark you can’t see a thing out of it and it fits so snugly there are no cracks to make out any light.

You turn your head a few times, trying to find an angle that lets you see something but it’s useless. 

Satoru sighs, content while sucking a few small marks on your neck before nipping and licking his way to your breast, slipping a nipple in his mouth while palming the other.

Your back arches off the bed, wrists tugging on the smooth fabric tied around your wrists as he pinches and tweaks each nipple with his thumb and forefinger, gently tugging on the other with his teeth.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, thrusting your hips up to try and meet his, to find stimulation while he’s rolling his fingers and tongue over your hardened buds.

He chuckles, watching how you shamelessly squirm beneath him in pleasure, cock straining in his slacks from the sight.

Satoru loves seeing you like this. All needy and helpless, waiting for you to inevitably beg him to fuck you. And he will. But not yet.

You don’t deserve it yet.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips when he lets go of your breast with a pop, squeezing the other before letting his hands roam to your waist and hips, leaving a trail of soft, teasing kisses in his wake, dipping his tongue in your belly button.

You lift your hips when he moves the fabric upwards, making it easier to allow the dress to pool at your waist, exposing the unreal wet spot that has formed at the center of your panties, soaking them.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs more to himself than you, palming his hard cock through his briefs at the sight before massaging the plush skin of your thighs, lowering himself between them.

“Fuck, Satoru!” You cry out when he gives an experimental lick up the center of your panties, leaving a too-soft, too-gentle kiss right on your neglected clit before moving to kiss and lick your thighs.

You want nothing more than to have at least one of your hands free to thread through his soft white hair, keeping him at your center to extinguish the flames that are swallowing you whole right now.

You attempt to close your legs around his head in sheer neediness, but Satoru pushes your thighs apart.

“Keep your legs open.” He commands, forcing a loud whine to leave your lips.

“Satoru, please, I need you.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs, snapping the band of your panties to expose your glistening pussy to him. He licks his lips at the sight, running two thick fingers through your slippery folds.

“Oh god,” you moan out, much to his amusement, rutting your hips in a poor attempt at keeping the slightest amount of stimulation he just gave.

“Need me here, baby?” He asks condescendingly, watching you through his long, thick snowy lashes as you gasp, feeling his tongue run up your center, “fuck, you taste so good.”

“Please-pleasepleaseplease,” you’re begging while he teases, letting his tongue explore every part of your newfound sensitivity.

And then he just stops.

You try your best to look around, unable to see anything still but you can feel the smirk that’s spread across his face right now against you.

“Satoru,” you’re whiney, needy and you want to keep rutting your hips to fuck yourself on his tongue but he’s moved his hands to your hips, halting any movement. “Satoru, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, just keeps your legs spread wide open and hands cemented on your hips to keep you from moving.

“Satoru… please, please fuck me, baby, please.”

Normally that would work, begging for him to make you cum, but not tonight.

Satoru laughs into you, the vibrations from his voice shooting to the tips of your fingers to your toes, causing them to curl.

He’s teased you before, but tonight is different, more cruel. He’s still pissed and he’s making it known with the way he won’t let you have any stimulation.

“Please… I need you,” you pant out in desperation, voice so deliriously needy you don’t have any time to be embarrassed about how badly you want him, need him right now.

He perks at the trembling of your voice, watching as you lay your head back on the pillow in defeat and he laughs. Hot breath fanning your core before he enthusiastically licks along your folds, letting go of your hips to sink two fingers into your cunt, easily finding your sweet spot.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he focuses on rapidly flicking his tongue across your clit until you’re moaning all staccato and pretty for him, pulling on the restraints hard as you shatter onto his hand when he sucks your clit into his mouth.

He works you through your release, watching you shiver and tremble, walls fluttering so delicately around his fingers. He’s losing his patience, losing his will to keep himself from you any longer.

When you come down from your high, head lolled to the side, Satoru pulls the blindfold off to reveal a devious glint in his eye.

“Is it mine?” He asks suddenly.

“I-What?”

“The baby. Is it mine?”

It’s something that’s been nagging at him since he found out you were pregnant.

Sure, when he asked last time you were together, you told him you weren’t seeing anyone outside of him, and that made him happier than it should have at the time.

Now he needs to know if everything he’s done over the last few months has been worth it. That his absence from you has been worth it.

“Yes-yes, it’s only been you, baby. Only you.” The corners of your eyes are wet, tears having escaped with nowhere to go with the blindfold on, “the baby’s yours.”

Satoru’s cock twitches and jumps at your confirmation, unable to keep himself from you any longer, so he leans down and licks up your cheek to the corner of your eye before pressing a tender kiss to your lid.

“Satoru, can I-” you tug on the silky white ropes still binding you to the headboard, “I need to touch you.”

As soon as Satoru unties the knots, your hands are cupping his face as you hastily kiss him, letting your hands linger on his broad shoulders, down to his chest and hard abdominals.

When he pulls away, you latch yourself to him, sitting up as he sits back on the balls of his feet, never breaking the kiss. Your hands easily find the waistband to his briefs, sliding them down to free his hard length.

He groans in relief as soon as you grab his cock, tip red and sticky with precum as you use your thumb to spread it down his length, pumping several times as helps you out of the tattered remains of your dress. 

Satoru grabs your hips, tugging towards the middle of the bed so he can line his cock with your entrance, running the tip through your soaked folds several times before rubbing his sensitive tip in small circles on your clit.

He’d tease you until the end of time and space just to watch the way you writhe under his touch in desperate desire and anticipation.

But he’s not that patient today, not after not being able to have you for so long.

“Fuck-holy fucking shit-” he groans, throwing his head back as he presses his cock into you at an agonizingly slow pace, “you’re good, so, so good to me, baby.”

Your back is arched off the bed as he fully seats himself inside you, running his hands along your breasts and waist, stopping at your stomach, staring almost longingly.

Satoru helps adjust your legs over each shoulder, locking your ankles behind his head as he immediately starts pumping into you at an unrelenting pace.

You feel nothing but Satoru as he leans down, pressing your knees to either side of your head, kissing you feverishly as he sucks small bruises onto the smooth columns of your throat, at that spot just under your ear that always makes you sigh.

“Right there, keep going,” You beg as your walls tighten around his cock like a noose, soft walls sucking him in, begging him to stay.

He would. He’d live inside you for all eternity if you’d let him.

Satoru brings his hand to the base of your neck, squeezing slightly, “I fucking love you. I really fucking do.”

Your brows furrow, gasping out a surprised moan, watching him with upturned brows at his confession, one you had convinced yourself wasn’t real, one that was due to drugs and sex.

“Tell me you love me.”

“Satoru, I-I,” You’re stammering, trying to find the words.

This isn’t something you’ve ever planned on saying, a feeling you’ve been trying to keep buried in the darkest pits of your heart, trapped away in a tiny box that you’d throw into the ocean and never see again if you could.

This is too much, he’s too much, but you can’t keep running from the feelings you’ve been suppressing for so long.

“I do, baby -oh, my god- I love you,” Your hands are tugging him closer so your lips meet fervently as his hips continue to wildly piston into you.

It’s angelic to him, the sound of your voice, your confession. Everything you do, so opposite of him but allowing him to corrupt you in unimaginable ways, sinfully so.

“Say my name, tell everyone.” He growls into your ear, slamming his hips into yours impossibly harder.

“Satoru, S’toru, S’toru” you chant deliriously, over and over again as he thrusts his hips until your orgasm rips through you like a tsunami, a tidal wave of pleasure washing over you.

He makes you cum so many times it’s impossible to keep track, and he’s lost count too, but he knows he’s not going to be able to last much longer.

“Cum again, baby,” he tangles his hand into your hair, grabbing at the roots and forcing you to look up at him, “you can do it, you’re such a good girl, so pretty - cum on my cock.”

There’s not much you can do but listen, walls spasming, legs shaking, back arching off the bed until your soft breasts meet his chest. He kisses you again, spitting into your mouth, moaning against him as his tongue plays with yours.

He thrusts for a few moments that feel like an eternity, gripping your hair so hard you’re convinced he might rip it out until he cums so hard he’s positive he would have gotten you pregnant if you already weren't.

Satoru watches your chest heave, tits rising and falling so beautifully with each breath you take before he sucks in a breath, nuzzling into your neck and pulling out with a wince.

He’s shameless, so he watches the way his seed spills out of you, drips down your ass, and onto the sheets of his bed.

He chuckles when you shutter, pulling your hips away from him due to over-sensitivity when he runs his fingers through your folds, dipping two inside you to coat them in his release before shoving them to the back of your throat, making you gag.

“Good girl,” he whispers while you roll your tongue over his digits the best you can, sucking on them as he pulls them out of your mouth with a soft pop.

You lay your head back on the pillows, eyes half-lidded and a goofy grin on your face. He lets out a low chuckle, leaning down to kiss you, letting his tongue explore every crevice, tasting himself on your tongue while helping you roll to your side as he slides in behind you.

“Look at you,” Satoru whispers, blue gaze looking at the way your bodies lay together in the mirror across the bed, fingers nibbly tracing your belly, drawing several small infinity symbols, lost in thought, “Gorgeous.”

Your cheeks flush in embarrassment while you stare back at him, watching the way he nuzzles into your hair, and kisses your neck and shoulder gently.

“I want you to keep it. I want to see you glowing,” he mutters quietly, “so big and round, full of me.”

You take a deep breath, looking away from the mirror before letting out a low, self-deprecating laugh because this isn’t a good thing, is it? You’re newly pregnant with a married man’s child.

There’s no way this is going to end well.

“Where are you going?” Satoru asks, confused when you pull away from his grasp, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed.

“To pee. The last thing I need right now is a UTI.”

He hums, rolling over onto his back pointing in the direction of the attached bathroom, shamelessly watching the way your hips sway before you close the door.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, looking over your features.

Nothing looks different. You still look like the same person you were three months ago, albeit a little more tired.

You’ll have to find a new norm. With Satoru… his wife and two other children. All of them will thoroughly hate you when they find out.

Which is absolutely inevitable judging by how excited Satoru seems to be.

The only mild saving grace is they’ll probably hate him as well. But you don’t want that. Not really.

Tears prick in the corner of your eyes. Not those of love or pleasure but of confusion.

Confusion about the direction your life is heading and what you’re supposed to do now. Satoru is married, with a family of his own. He doesn’t owe you anything. After all, he was just a client you let yourself get carried away with.

Will you be a single mother? Will his other children hate you and your child? Will they want to be involved in their life growing up, will you even want them to be?

These are a few of the questions that race through your mind, but there are so many more, and none to be answered tonight.

You wipe your face with your hands, turning away from the mirror as several tears stream down your cheek. These hormones are going to be a real pain in the ass, you can already tell.

After using the restroom, you splash cool water on your face, trying your best to hide the evidence of the tears that escaped.

Satoru’s quiet when you re-emerge, eyes flickering between yours as he hands you a velvety, white robe to cover yourself in. It’s oversized, likely his, but rather than using it he opts to stay shirtless with baggy grey sweats.

He gives you space, noticing the red rings around your eyes, letting you look around his apartment at your leisure. You don’t go far, not wanting to overstay your welcome, especially since you just fucked your late-night lover on his marital bed.

The thought makes your stomach churn.

Walking down the hall from his bedroom to his living room, you take your time looking at the few personal photos that hang on the wall. All of his children.

His son is clearly the oldest, with dark black hair, a spitting image of his mother while his younger daughter looks like she could be Satoru’s twin with matching snow-driven hair. They both were lucky enough to inherit his crystalline eyes.

They’ll both grow up to be little charmers, just like their father.

You notice two things as you make your way from the hall to the living room, continuing to look around your surroundings.

One, all of the decor and furniture, looks like it belongs in a catalog. It’s modern but doesn’t give a homey feel. Like it’s been primarily unused.

And second, in every photo you’ve found, his wife isn’t present in any of them.

“Satoru. Where are we?”

It’s obviously his penthouse, but it looks like it hasn’t been lived in, ever. An open concept with the kitchen and living room divided by a small half wall, the kitchen is filled with the newest appliances one could ever hope and dream of having.

One of the walls in the living room is all floor-to-ceiling windows, giving the most gorgeous view of Shibuya you’ve ever seen, the city lights bright, still roaring to life in the dead of night.

You watch as Satoru walks to the living room with a glass of water, setting it on the glass coffee table before sitting on the sofa.

“I’ve separated from my wife.”

“What? Why?” You turn to him, wide-eyed and confused, heart in your throat at the news, too much excitement coursing through your veins, where it doesn’t belong.

“We just… grew apart. We married young and had kids right away. Over the years, we realized we wanted different things.”

You nod slowly, turning to look at him through the corner of your eye, “I thought you were in counseling. I heard… at the hotel, last time we were together.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, sitting back on the couch, long legs spread in front of him, “we tried for a while, but we’re too different now, want different things.”

It’s quiet for a few moments while you turn your attention back out the window, viewing the Shibuya skyline. There’s some shuffling behind you before Satoru wraps his arms around your stomach, pulling you into him.

“I want to be with you.” A chill runs down your spine at his quiet admission, your eyes flickering up to meet his through the reflection of the mirror.

You place your hands gently over his, leaning into his touch, heart beating so loud you can hear it in your ears. 

“Why would you want to be with me? I don’t fit into your world.”

A few months ago you wanted nothing more than to believe he actually loved you when he said it that night. But now that he’s telling you he wants you, that he left his wife and wants to make this work, you’re not sure if you can.

“Besides, what’s the press going to say, the people who voted for you, once they find out about your infidelity, that you got a stripper pregnant and you left your wife for her? This… this is too much, Satoru.”

But that’s why he wants to be with you. Because you’re so different than what his life has become.

Lies, sneaking around, constantly having to save face for his family's sake and his wife’s wellbeing. At least when he’s with you he can truly be himself.

Wild and crazy, calm and relaxed. You’ve seen it all in your short time together, helping him escape the loneliness he’s always been riddled with.

Satoru didn’t mean to fall in love with you, and he’s not sure when it happened. It could have been the moment he first saw you on stage, the most beautiful woman he’s sure he’s ever laid eyes on, or it could have been when he realized you liked to spend time with him and not his money or things he can provide.

You’re the only person he’s been with within his marriage. He hated himself after your first night together, but being with you is so freeing, in ways he hasn’t known, having been tied down to his overbearing wife for years, that he couldn’t stop himself from coming back for more.

After a few months, he realized he hated the way other men would try to garner your attention, and knew they couldn’t treat you like he could. Couldn’t match your energy the way he can.

“I want you to quit stripping.”

“Uhm, no? I like what I do, why would I stop?”

He sighs, it’s heavy, frustrated. And honestly, he wasn’t expecting a fight since he can take care of you in ways you’ve never even considered before.

“The papers, journalists, people on the street. They’re all going to call you a myriad of names, tear you apart and rip into your past to bring you down. It’ll be easier if you quit while we’re ahead.”

Also because he hates the ways guys look at you in the club. Hates the thought of someone else being able to put their hands on you.

If you did it with him, what would stop you from letting another man come and whisk you away from him?

“I’m not going to quit my job because of the decisions you made, Satoru.”

He runs his hands over his face, groaning, “fine, fuck! Just… I can…” he stops to think, waving his hands in front of him a little, “I can change the conversation. Say I support you with your career.”

“So you’ll lie?”

“Not exactly. I’ll just flip some words around and make it work.”

His reputation is ruined, nobody is going to accept him and his wife separating. Not when he’s built his entire career around being a family man. He has to find a new way to work this, otherwise, his career will be ruined too.

“Is that what you do… twist words until you get your way?”

“That’s part of the job, babe.”

He comes back behind you, grabbing your hand, leading you through his living room, down the hall, and back to his bedroom, “we can worry about all of this later. Let’s just be together before shit hits the fan.”

Satoru lays you back on the bed, nestling himself between your thighs. You accept the slow deep strokes he gives, unlike any you’ve ever experienced from him before.

You stay like this until reds, purples, and blues flitter across the sky with the rising of the sun, until you’re both spent, falling asleep in each other's arms.

“Is this your wife’s?” Your staring at the dress Satoru is handing you, early in the morning with a disgruntled look on your face.

“I’m not that insane. I bought it for you.”

You squint your eyes, judging him for buying you clothes to keep here before having actually spoken to you about it. You begrudgingly snatch the dress from his clutches and put it on, opting not to cause a fuss over something as trivial as that.

It’s a little snug, a little smaller than you would have picked out for yourself, but you’re not really in a position to argue when you have nothing else to leave the apartment in.

Lest you go naked, but something tells you Satoru would rather have an aneurysm than let that happen.

He’s in a white button-down, black slacks and is putting on his watch as he stares at you through the mirror in his bedroom.

“Just so you know, there’s going to be journalists outside waiting on us.”

“O-oh, um… Why?”

He takes a deep breath, walking over to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“News broke last night about you being pregnant and my separation.”

It’s the reason he went to you last night and picked you up from the club. He knew this was going to happen overnight and he wanted to save you from having to deal with it alone.

You nod and don’t ask any more questions as you go down the elevator to the front lobby of the apartment complex, squeezing Satoru’s hand as he puts on his dark square shades, offering you a pair to help cover your face a little.

You’re sick to your stomach, not sure if it will ever settle. This isn’t how you thought your life would turn out, the pregnant mistress of a well-known politician, but you have no choice now but to see it through to the end.

When the doorman opens the lobby door, lights flash, cameras shutter and there’s a loud buzzing from journalists asking questions you can’t make out filling the open space.

Satoru makes his way through the crowd, following someone in a black suit to a fancy black car out on the street, holding the door open so you can squeeze into the back seat.

Now, all you can hope is that the two of you can make it work, and he won’t leave you and your child for another woman, like he did his wife.

@petalsrdead @sofiaconlaz @lovelylashawnalee @s-witch-bitch @watyousayin @desthevirgo @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @musababy @sagejin @ritsatoru @faewithsnakes @erenputurchildreninsideme @lex-dear @hvziers @babybae-shisui

#jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #violetsaffronfic #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #oneshot #unholy #dirty little secret #DLS

[dira333]

Kita Shinsuke - Happy accidents

Words: 1014, requested by @misfit-megumi

There’s a saying you’ve heard before.

“There are no mistakes, just happy accidents.”

You’ve disagreed with that before.

There’s nothing about losing your keys and having to wait in the cold for hours until your landlord has mercy and lets you back in. Or dropping coffee on your shirt right before an important meeting. Or… well, you could go on.

And today is one of these days where nothing seems to go your way. 

It started in the morning, like it usually does, with a missed train and ends with you carefully checking your lipstick in the reflective glass doors as you wait for your date.

He’s already fifteen minutes late but you try to see the bright side of it - at least this way he didn’t notice you coming in five minutes later than agreed, red faced and a little bit sweaty from the stress.

Another fifteen minutes pass and you swirl your almost empty glass at the bar, teetering on the edge of annoyance. There’s no way you’re getting stood up today, not after everything that has happened so far.

The doors open and you risk another look, hope rising as you notice it’s a single guy this time.

You have no idea how your date tonight is supposed to look, just that he’s supposed to wear a black jacket, which is an awful marker considering almost everyone in here is wearing a black jacket. Well, the male guests at least.

He’s tall and kind-faced, his hair an interesting mix of light grey and charcoal and it looks almost like paint brushes dipped into ink. He’s cute and surprisingly attractive for the friend of a friend.

But Anko said he worked out so it does fit the description.

You wave, a little shyly at first, until he notices you. His face is blank as he walks over and you meet him in the middle, a little breathless at the height difference.

“I’m so glad you didn’t stand me up.” You breathe and something flickers over his face, too fast to catch before you realise that you sounded a little desperate right there.

“I mean there’s nothing wrong with you not wanting to go on a blind date with me, I mean I think it’s a blind date for you, I didn’t get a picture but maybe you did. I was just worried because you’re late and my day was awful and these shoes are cute but they gave me serious blisters and I’m going to stop talking now.”

You blink up at him, an awkward smile tugging at your lips as you wish, not for the first time in your life, you could just take the words you’ve said and push them back in your mouth.

“I’d like to hear more,” he says, honesty dripping from his lips.

It’s something you haven’t seen before, someone speaking sweet things so earnestly. There is no smoothness that makes your skin crawl.

He opens his mouth to say more when a waiter interrupts the two of you.

“Kita-san? Your table is ready.”

“Oh…” You pull your hands back from where they’d been reaching for him.

“You’re not… I’m so sorry. I thought.” You cringe as you realise what has just transpired.

“No, no…” His tone is almost soft now and his hands gingerly touch yours, pulling away again as if to give you space. “Don’t worry. I’d very much like to take you on a date, even more now that you’ve been stood up, but I already have plans. Would you… would you mind it being a group thing?”

Your eyes widen at his question, your body tenses, fully ready to run if this is some weird swinger stuff, but he sends you a tentative smile that’s too honest to be creepy.

“I usually go out for food with an old friend once a month and he’s going to be here any minute. I’d cancel but that’s not something I do. I like to keep my commitments. I’ll leave the decision to you.”

“Oh, well, I suppose… if I’m not intruding?”

It’s a bit awkward at first, sitting between Kita Shinsuke and his friend Miya Osamu. Miya throws his friend looks that tell you just how unusual this setup is. But he’s nice, funny and forces you to take a bite out of every plate, pressing into you to get proper knowledge about good food.

Where he is almost overwhelming, Kita is a calming presence.

He asks about your job and your day, offers bandaids for your blisters and a compliment that’s told so dryly, you need a moment to register it.

“They are indeed very cute shoes.”

When the evening ends, Kita insists on driving you home. For the first time since you’ve heard that phrase, you think that maybe there are some things as happy accidents because you’ve certainly ended this day with two more friends than you started with.

As he parks the car in front of your apartment complex, he rests his hands on the steering wheel and turns to you, his brows pulled into a frown.

“I don’t think I’d ever be recommended for a blind date.” He starts and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no. You’d be highly recommended. You’re hot and nice and kind a-and I’m going to stop talking again.”

His lips pull into a quick smile.

“I’m a farmer. I don’t live in the city and this is the cleanest my truck has been in weeks. I don’t have much to offer but if you’d like-”

“Yes!” You interrupt him before realising you have no idea what you’re agreeing to. “I mean, go on, sorry.”

He laughs now, a soft, gentle sound.

“I wanted to ask if you’d like to meet again but I guess you already gave me your answer.”

A warm, welcoming silence settles between you, one you don’t dare to break and for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel hard to enjoy the quiet and even less so when his warm hand settles over yours.

Happy accidents, indeed.

#my writings #Kita Shinsuke x reader #Kita x reader #Kita Shinsuke #miya osamu #haikyuu!! #Haikyuu imagines #I apologize #Kita isn't my forte #But I did my best

[cockslutpadalecki]

Engaged

Summary: Steve’s not happy he’s being replaced.

Characters: Dark!Mean!Steve x F!Reader.

Words: 1.9K.

Warnings: non-con, mean!Steve is mean, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), forced orgasms, 18+. MINORS DNI.

A/N: Based on the GIF above. I wasn’t sure what you had in mind for this, but I hope you like it darling Ali! Thank you to @princessmisery666 for the epic brainstorming session, you always bring out the best in me. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators.

Steve watches them through the window— laughing and smiling along with who he assumes must be her relatives from the way they embrace her. He can’t keep his eyes from her, pure hatred bubbling up inside his chest as she shows off her left hand while Bucky stands beside her, grinning from ear to ear. 

The sight makes him rage. 

How dare Bucky keep something of this magnitude from him? They’re supposed to be best friends, tell each other everything. Loss of virginity, falling in love for the first time— all that stuff. But this? This he finds out through the damn internet?

The link that Twitter had sent him is still open on his cell, the words now committed to memory. Steve can’t remember how many times he’s read it, wishing it would disappear off the page as he gets more and more incensed each time he does so. 

He watches a little longer, eyes moving with her as she almost glides across the restaurant with Bucky’s hand in the small of her back. An unease— a thickness, something a little like jealousy— sits deep in the recesses of his stomach and he pulls out his phone, ready to call an Uber to take him back into the underbelly of the city. Somewhere he can find a dumb broad to fuck this acidic taste in the back of his throat away.

Yet as he unlocks it, the article featuring Bucky’s engagement reminds him of what brought him to this lavish, fancy restaurant in the first place. Smoothing down his black dinner jacket, he slips the phone back into his pocket and strides forward with drive and impetus.

Time to go and congratulate the happy couple. 

-

Eyes scouring the room, you watch in quiet awe as your family and James’ merge into one, swapping embarrassing childhood stories and cute anecdotes. You don’t even mind when your mom whips out a picture of you from her purse to show James’ mom— the hideous dress she had made you wear for picture day still forever ingrained in your memory. 

Your eyes drift, noticing the crowd slowly part to let someone through the throng and your smile wanes instantly when you see Steve striding towards you. His lips are twisted up into his own smile, but it fails to meet his eyes. You’re used to these fake displays of happiness, used to his kind words laced with malice. He’s made it no secret that he doesn’t like you, and over time, you stopped trying to befriend him. 

“James,” you whisper, eyes focused on his best friend closing the distance between you. He diverts his attention from your aunt just long enough to see Steve approach. You feel him stiffen in your hold as he turns to face you, looking almost guilty.

“Why is he here?” You’re careful not to sound accusatory. 

“I don’t know babe,” he tells you truthfully. “Just let me speak to him, okay? I’ll make sure he leaves.” 

“He doesn’t have to leave.” The reluctance in your tone is clear, and you flash your fiancé a tepid smile but you can see how much keeping this from his best friend has been playing on his mind. It’s more than Steve deserves, but you don’t want any trouble. This is meant to be a happy occasion. 

He eyes you with caution. “You sure?” 

“I’m sure,” you reassure him. “I may not like it… or him, but he’s your best friend. He should be here.” 

The words taste sour on your tongue, but you don’t regret them even when your stomach churns with unease as Bucky heads off towards Steve. 

-

You’re caught up watching the two talk, their heads bowed a little as they listen intently to each other. You can’t make out what they’re saying but they don’t seem to be getting angry with each other, so you assume everything is fine. 

Your attention is pulled away briefly by a cluster of relatives coming to wish you a happy birthday and see your engagement ring, but when you look back, you catch Steve’s eye over Bucky’s shoulder. 

He gives you a small grin, but there’s very little kindness in it. It’s more smug, like he’s happy to be getting his way. You flash him a terse smile in return before quickly turning away with a grimace. You wander over towards your mom, the hairs standing up on the back of your neck as you feel his stare still boring into your skin. 

The sensation slowly dissipates and you begin to relax. Despite Steve’s unwanted presence, you’re determined to enjoy your birthday, especially now that it’s a double celebration.

You briefly forget about the gatecrasher and when fingers lightly dance along your shoulder, you smile to yourself.

“Oh James,” you sigh happily as you turn to face him. But instead your blood runs cold at the sight of Steve standing beside you. Instantly you’re on edge, desperate to flee. 

“I just wanted to offer up my congratulations,” he explains softly.

You can barely concentrate on the words out of his mouth, your focus on his hand loosely curled around the nape of your neck.

“Thank you,” you respond curtly. “And thank you for not making a scene, I really appreciate it.”

He gives your neck what seems to be a playful squeeze, but you don’t miss the way his fingers tighten a little too hard. “Now why would I do that?” 

“Y’know, keeping it a secret.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s fine.” Dropping his hand, he flashes you a wide smile with a shrug. “I mean, Bucky’s never hidden anything from me the entire time we’ve been best friends, but it’s no big deal.” The sarcasm is so thick in his tone you could spread it across the bruschetta appetizers like a pâté. 

You stare at each other in silence, ire building inside you with every second that passes. Steve smirks at you, enjoying getting under your skin. 

“Anyway, I should go mingle some more,” he says before leaning in, adding with a whisper, “I’m dying to meet your sisters.”

-

Your sisters seem fooled by Steve’s charms, going as far as to pull you aside and ask what the big deal is. They’ve heard your misgivings about your fiance’s best friend. They know the stories. But in just such a short amount of time he managed to convince them that you’re the problem. 

“Sensitive with a tendency to overreact,” he told them with a gleeful smile, and of course they agreed with cutesy giggles and lingering touches on his bicep. 

The way he shamelessly flirted with them, all while flashing you occasional glances, made your stomach roll in repulsion and when he winked at you after following your eldest sister over to the bar— his hand settled at the base of her spine— you had sought solitude in the restroom, spending too long splashing yourself with water. 

You lean over the sink, mind wandering back to earlier in the evening when you and James snuck in here to have a little fun before anyone arrived. Who knew then that the night would result in you hiding away while everyone else celebrates in your absence?

You’re already making mental seating plans to ensure that during the reception, Steve’s on the other side of the room. Hm, the other side of the world would be more preferable, your mind mutters and finally you see some light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe you should suggest a destination wedding, conveniently while Steve is busy. 

With a renewed spring in your step, you quickly wash your hands and head towards the door, but you’re too busy plotting to notice the silhouette outside when you eventually leave, almost crashing into Steve. 

“Oh,” you say a little sharply, “you’re still here.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Didn’t think this scene was your kind of thing.” 

“Of course, wouldn’t wanna miss the chance to celebrate with my brother and his beautiful bride-to-be.” There’s that malicious grin again. 

You attempt a smile of your own, knowing it feels fake on your lips. It drops instantly as you start to step around him. “Okay, well I better be getting back.”

He side-steps in front of you, blocking your way. “Where are you going so fast? Shouldn’t we get to know each other a little better?” 

“James and I have been a couple for two years, Steve. You’ve had plenty of time to get to know me, but instead you chose not to.” 

He scoffs a little. “And whose fault is that, hm?”

“Are you insinuating that I’m the problem?” you ask, shell shocked he has the audacity to say it to your face. 

“Let’s just say before Buck met you, he was a different man. Not the pussy whipped little bitch he is now.”

“People can change when they fall in love, not that you would know anything about that.” 

He shuffles forward and your back hits the restroom door. “What are you insinuating?” 

“I know all about the broken-hearted women you leave in your wake, Steve. The way you treat them. No wonder you’re all alone,” you sneer. “I bet that’s what all this is about. You’re jealous that you’re not the most important person in James’ life any more.”

He almost roars as he roughly shoves you inside the restroom, anger tugging and contorting his features until he’s practically unrecognisable.

“What the hell are you doing?” you yell, pummelling your fists against his hard chest. Steve just laughs as he grabs your wrists and spins you around in his hold. 

“Showin’ you how I really treat women,” he answers, encouraging you to look at yourself in the mirror as he pushes you up against the porcelain. Letting go of your wrists, his fingers paw at the skirt of your dress, hastily tugging the material up over your backside. 

Tears are hot on your cheeks as you struggle, clawing at his hands to get him to stop but it does nothing except create red tramlines down his forearms. 

“Stop,” you cry out, shame fever-hot beneath your skin when Steve yanks your panties to one side. 

He laughs scornfully, teasing his lips over your earlobe. “You don’t mean that, not really.” The distinct sound of his belt snapping open forces you to meet his eye in the mirror. 

With that, he pushes himself inside you, and the burn of going in practically dry makes your stomach tighten. You squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to see him over your shoulder, smirking as he fucks you with reckless abandon.

You want to scream out, call for help. But the shame and fear of your family— James— seeing you like this clogs in your throat, and you're unable to form words.

Pain slowly sizzles away, melting into a dull pleasure that causes you to wince with guilt and humiliating reproach. Wet pools around his length, coating him in your juices as he forces himself in and out. 

Unwanted euphoria sneaks up on you like a shadow, becoming a part of you as you reluctantly succumb to your orgasm. It implodes inside you in a wave of unimaginable heat until you’re too fucked-out to hold yourself upright. Steve’s arm wraps around your waist, keeping you steady as the sickly sweet honeyed tone of his voice in your ear makes you nauseous.

“Oh good girl, comin’ around my cock.”

He thrusts into you harder and the vile squelch of your cunt echoes and taunts you around the room. You hate that your pussy welcomes every drive back into the slick heat, hate the ripples of warmth rising up into your gut as it twists and writhes, desperate to shatter again within you. 

“Pl-please,” you beg. “Stop. Think of James.”

“Buck won’t care,” he scoffs, and upon noticing the horrified look in your eye, he adds, “Didn’t he tell you? It’s always been this way. What belongs to him, belongs to me too.”

***

ALL CE: @buckymydarlingangel @broadwaybabe18 @captain-asguard @chamberofsloths @cevansgurl @dreamlessinparis @deanwinchesterswitch @fandom-princess-forevermore @hurricanerin @jvstjewels @la-cey @ladybug05 @livstilinski @ladydmalfoy @mugi-chwan95 @navybrat817 @otomefromtheheart @oneoftheprettynerds @patzammit @rebel-stardust @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @sammykb1994 @syrenavenger @straywords @saiyanprincessswanie @sunwardsss @selfsun @threeminutesoflife @vicmc624 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @xoxonotme

4EVS: @amirra88 @andreasworlsboring101 @b3autyfuldisast3r @cheesyclaire @dangertoozmanykids101 @daughterofthenight117 @deangirl93 @doozywoozy @foxyjwls007 @geekofmanyforms @heyyouwiththeassbutt @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @ilovefanfic86 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @letsby @letsdisneythings @labella420 @mogaruke @maliburenee @notyourtypicalrose @nik2writes @obsessivelycapricious @patrick-hockslutter @princessmisery666 @phildunphyisadilf @roxyfan14-blog @sage-writing @sea040561 @sweeterthanthis @slutformarvelmen @simpformarvelmenandwoman @smokeandnailz @stoneyggirl @stoneyggirl2 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @thegirlnextdoorssister @unfortunate-brat @warriorqueen1991 @xoxabs88xox

#maladaptivexxdaydreaming #answered #request #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction

[nolita-fairytale]

spending a week over the summer with young!sirius headcanon (remote island au)

au headcanon where you and young!sirius black flee the country to live on a remote island and raise baby harry instead of going to azkaban

pairing: sirius black x fem!ravenclaw reader

warnings: swearing, light smut (18+ minors dni)

a/n: this is a four part series. i hope you enjoy reading!

read part one here 

“show me your love. why don’t you grow up and see?”

after bothering your parents all summer long about it, you manage to get the approval for a one week visit before school starts with sirius. you do, of course, have to lie and say that you're going to stay with the potters for the week, because what parents would allow their seventeen year old daughter to stay with her boyfriend in his brand new flat, unsupervised?

sirius is more than proud to show off his new flat. you can tell that the only reason it's furnished and looks somewhat like a home is because euphemia helped him put it together.

the pent up sexual tension is palpable and you're practically tearing off each others' clothes within minutes of seeing each other.

"did you get my last letter?" "yes, in fact i had to hide that one in the floorboards so my parents couldn't find it." "didn't want them finding out absolutely naughty you are, eh?"

sirius whispering in your ear things like: "taking me so well, love." "thought about this all summer long, darling." "gods, your tits are perfect."

the way sirius moans followed by a deep, mischievous, and naughty laugh in disbelief that you're his.

sex is new to you, but not new to him. every time feels like an exploration and you're more than happy to let him turn you inside out.

leaving soft kisses on sirius' shoulders in the mornings, while you wait for him to wake up, whispering ''i love you's" into his skin.

that night you take the floo network to the potters' for dinner like you hadn't just done the most salacious things to each other.

james acts as the ultimate wingman by intercepting every single owl sent by your parents and pretending to be his own mum to cover for the two of you.

staying up way too late. cigarettes after sex. having a cuppa tea before bed, even if it is 3 am.

staying up way too late making a case to sirius about why he actually has to study for his apparation tests. "don't want to end up without a left arm now." and of course he'd reply with something cheeky like, "dunno. a three legged dog would be quite cute, don't you think?"

now that you're both of age and can use magic outside of school, sirius is conjuring up little tricks to impress you or make you laugh.

strolling the streets of london arm in arm, like there's no one else in the world but the two of you.

sirius lending you his leather jacket when it gets a little too chilly at night.

wearing either sirius over-sized clothes around his flat, or something absolutely tiny, just to drive him mad.

sirius failing miserably at cooking dinner, and you having to take over after he's burned his latest attempt once again. neither of you really cook so takeaway it is.

daydreaming together what life after hogwarts would look like. in true restless bohemian spirit, sirius has no idea what he wants to do and would rather explore the world before committing to any kind of profession.

you, on the other hand, have a job waiting for you at the ministry in the department of magical artifacts, working with your father. he's even lined up an archaeological dig after graduation to persuade you further. sirius pretends to be bored as you tell him, but he can't deny the light in your eyes as you talk about it. your curiosity is one of the things he loves most about you.

neither of you are ready for school to start and wish that you could stay in this bubble forever.

taglist: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

#sirius black x reader headcanon #sirius black headcanon #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black smut #harry potter headcanon #harry potter #the marauders #marauders era

[silentwillowwhisperer]

Keith and Allura are still my favorite bestie pair.

Mkay, hi! This post is kinda sorta in continuation to another post I wrote.

You don't really have to read the other one to understand this, but it's a similar idea.

Big thanks to @haunted-glassesgurl who gave me the idea for this, go check out her account, she writes thing occasionally.

Waiiiit. Our convo was kinda long. Am I gonna be here for like forever?

-------------------------------------------

Keith is in Allura's room yet again, this time with the princess sitting elegantly in front of him while he paints her.

For some reason, no matter where she is, the light always seems to hit her just right, and she always looks so effortlessly perfect. It makes her the perfect painting subject, her surreal beauty is quite literally alien to Keith.

But he knows that she's also caring and funny. It's hard to take someone seriously when you've watched the them snort like a pig because she was trying not to choke on food goo while watching Keith do a handstand on top of a ten foot tall bookshelf while singing House of Memories at the top of his lungs. It's a long story.

Anyway, he finishes and shows her his latest work. He's painted things for her dozens of times, and she always looks amazed.

She stands abruptly after glancing at the portrait for a couple seconds. Keith does not fall of the bed in surprise, shut up Allura.

"Keith Kogane of planet Earth, I name you the Official Royal Painter."

She says it with a teasing glint in her eye, but Keith looks shocked anyway.

"Really?" His eyes are starry with disbelief and happiness.

Of course, Allura had not been serious when she said that, but she had forgotten that Keith is a very angsty socially deprived child, and therefore cannot tell when someone is joking.

But how can Allura admit that to Keith when he looks like this? It's not possible! His way-to-adorable-for-his-own-good-kitten-puppy-eyes are on full force.

So now, when Keith is super stressed, he drags Allura into one of their rooms and just paints her for hours. She isn't exactly fond of sitting still for that long, but anything is better than seeing her best friend overwork himself to the point at which he regularly has to spend his nights in a healing pod in order to function.

And, sure, to anyone else it would seem like Keith is a creepy stalker who has nothing better to do than make artworks of Allura and stash them all over his room, but who cares? It's not like anyone will be snooping in there.

-

Lance realizes too late that he shouldn't be snooping in Keith's room.

It's not his fault! Keith had left the door to his room open for once, and how can anyone resist taking a peek in their crush's room?

So, really, Lance blames Keith entirely for his heart shattering into a million pieces.

He had decided to take a look in Keith's closet and see if the guy actually owns anything other than that stupidly short jacket. (How does it even provide Keith with warmth? It covers like 25% of his chest. Is he just a natural furnace??? Does he even take it off when he sleeps or is he just that committed to wearing overly cropped clothing and messing with Lance's weak heart?)

What he finds is painting after painting of Allura. Sure, she's pretty, but this is like an obnoxious amount of portraits.

Before, Lance had hoped and wished and thought that maybe, just maybe Keith might return Lance's feelings.

But now there is no doubt, Keith has a crush on Allura.

-

Keith can't deal with this right now.

He has already had a stressful week, and now his crush is aggressively flirting with his friend.

Allura just laughs it off every time, but to Keith, it just drives the knife further into his tragic, gay heart every time Lance says something cheesy or winks in Allura's direction.

Why are all the best people so painfully STRAIGHT?

Keith can't decide if he wants to punch or kiss Lance's stupid face.

At this point, it shouldn't bother Keith. He's watched the energetic boy flirt with absolutely anything, (seriously. Keith once walked in on Lance practicing puck-up lines on a trash can with a sharpied face and bikini on it) but for some reason, he can't stop feeling his feelings.

So now, instead of being mature about this, he's ignoring Lance. Shiro keeps looking at him and shaking his head every fifteen seconds, but if Lance is gonna be an unintentional douchebag, then Keith is allowed to be petty.

Their old rivalry is back, an Keith can't help the tightening in his gut when he realizes that he and Lance are drifting apart once again.

-

Allura is very close to strangling someone.

Honestly! Keith and Lance both clearly like each other, and yet they’re both set on restarting this silly rivalry of theirs.

If Lance says ‘Keith and Lance neck and neck’ one more time, Allura will have his neck.

She’s tried being subtle. She has dropped so many hints that everyone on the ship has figured those two out by now.

And now she’s done. Those idiots are going to kiss each other, and they are going to enjoy it, because Allura has put way to much effort into them.

After dinner that night, Allura grabs Lance by the collar and drags him onto a deserted hallway.

He yelps and complains until he meets her icy glare.

Allura has never shut someone up so quick, and it satisfies her greatly.

“Listen up Lonce. Not only have been flirting with me shamelessly for months, but you’re also failing to see what’s right in front of you. I don’t know about you, but the look Keith gives you every time you dismiss him breaks my heart. So, if you don’t fancy being ejected into space right now, you will go confess to that boy and kiss him like you mean it.”

Lance blinks at her in shock before responding.

“But- the paintings! And he’s in your room a-all the time!” he splutters.

Allura drags her perfectly manicured hand down her face with a groan.

“Well excuse me for being a good subject for his art. If you haven’t noticed, we’re friends, and that’s it. Now shut your trap and go find him.”

The next day, Allura almost combusts when the pair walks into the kitchen bickering. That is, until she notices their find smiles and tangled fingers.

#klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #lance vld #keith vld #vld keith #allura vld #tawny post

[faelune-home]

FFXIVWrite 2023 #28: Blunt

(A/n: This prompt actually had me and a friend go down a whole different rabbit hole of an idea that interested me in a way that I want to write it, but it wouldn't have worked today. So another time perhaps. The more reasonable idea I did write was instead another Yuri piece, since I do write her as very blunt and straightforward.

Introducing her to another Scion, and he gets a sense for that straight edged style of hers, especially when she's not really charmed by charasmatic rogues. Plus a small gag to end because Urianger hasn't been to the East in game or we'd definitely see someone baffle at what he's saying even with the game's handwave about everyone knowing a lot of common.

Word count: 962)

“Oh, perfect timing Yuri, I’d like to introduce you to someone,” Krile said upon Yuri’s entry into the main hall, a box in hand that was large enough that she had to peek around to even see the smaller woman. She hadn’t yet seen this “someone” due to the box as well.

She wasn’t particularly fussed about meeting anyone to be honest. She had plenty of work to do - Krile having recently given her the responsibility of supervising incoming reports from outbound researchers, and that pile somehow grew by 5 new reports every time she got through just one.

Was this “someone” even going to be here long? Someone she would be spending enough time with to justify getting to know them and committing their name to memory? Well, she had to trust Krile on that since many faces had passed through the Annex in Yuri’s time there without a proper introduction - names learned instead just bumping into each other in the hall or passing food or papers between each other - so maybe this one was significant? 

Like Fhara, who had gone off on her own errand, said to be gone for at least a week or so, but otherwise had spent a lot of time with Yuri. She drove the conversation mostly on her own, but she managed to drag enough out of Yuri for all her reticence that Yuri had found herself growing comfortable in her presence. Mostly.

She finally put the box down on the table, turning back around to take in the guest - a hyuran man with silvery hair wearing a heavy white jacket, and a roguish smile already on his face. Yuri already wished she’d just insisted on her work.

“Thancred,” he said with a small bow, “I ran into Fhara on her own little excursion and she told me much about you.” Oh, she’d certainly heard his name before. Unfortunately, the image conjured in Yuri’s head from Fhara’s tales still kept her watchful of the man, but nonetheless she matched his bow with her own.

“Yuri. Fhara also told me about you,” she said. His eyes rolled and Krile already seemed to be wearing a sly smirk.

“Only good things I should hope,” he sighed, to which Krile chuckled, “With you? Nothing but the finest.”

“Do you feel misrepresented in her stories?” Yuri dared to ask.

“Well, that would depend on what she’s told you exactly.” He looked somewhat hopeful.

“Mostly that you’re an amorous type with trails of broken hearts in your wake, and the one time you didn’t, you were distinctly not yourself.” She didn’t quite deliver the message with the same coyness Fhara had when she was telling the tales. And it was a sillier topic, about some of the Scions little faux pas to ease Yuri’s own spirits. But as it was, she knew so little about him other than those stories.

Indeed, his face dropped into a stunned dismay.

“Really? That’s all she’s had to say of me?” Krile had a hand to stifle her giggles, but it was evident enough by her shaking shoulders.

“Nothing about our courageous escape from Ul’dah, chased down and treated as criminals?,” he continued, though Yuri couldn’t be certain if he was genuinely upset and trying to salvage her character or if it was theatrics by how he gestured with his hands and shook his head, “Or my daring rescue of everyone against the Warriors of Darkness? Or was our time spent charging Mt Gulg at the van together not worth mention at all?”

“Oh they probably were, but they’ve only known each other for a short while now,” Krile said to placate him, mirthful in tone, “And you know what she’s like, certain others probably had more mention than most.”

“Ah yes, her adoration for those two would trump presenting me in a good light,” Thancred huffed, though the small smile he wore finally told Yuri he was at least good humoured about it.

“We haven’t spoken much about you or some others supposedly also in the Scions. That is all I know for now,” Yuri said.

“Well, that is to be expected with Fhara. Though I must say, you certainly aren’t tactful with your words,” he sighed, “Do me a favour, next time you meet, and ask her about some of our more dangerous or thrilling adventures please? I could do a better showing there.”

“I’ll try if I can get a word in with her. She normally does most of the talking, and I’ve been rather happy to let her,” Yuri admitted, “Though given your response here, I’m sure you’d be quite the storyteller. Why not tell me yourself now?”

“Y’know, I would, but unfortunately, I’m just passing through. Came to update Krile on matters and see how she was doing, and she insisted I hold so I could meet you,” Thancred replied, “And well met indeed. That’s quite the first impression you have of me, and I certainly won’t forget yours.” Yuri simply tilted her head, not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“As it is, I’m just waiting for my companion to arrive and we’ll probably head off again. Give you a quick introduction, but no time to chat. And probably for the best given how he goes on and on-”

A knock on the door interrupted him, and a taller elezen man walked in, dressed in a long black robe. Thancred shot a glance between the ladies, a knowing look in his eye. The elezen himself cast a brief glance at Yuri in acknowledgment of her presence, and a nod at Krile, but then focused on Thancred as he said– wait. What?

Oh kami help her, what kind of Eorzean was this man speaking?!

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #thancred waters #krile mayer baldesion #fufu's writing #yuri sakuraba #raen au ra

[queen-scribbles]

8 and/or 9 for Ves/Kurt :3

Private/Public Kiss which ran way, way, WAY away with me and I'm not even a little bit sorry :3

Wonder

---

The reflection staring back at Vesper conveyed many things well, but not the grin stretching practically ear to ear. She used it to check her earrings were hanging straight, that the lace trimming the neckline of her dress wasn’t smushed. She took a calming breath--Almost time--but even the reflected grin didn’t shrink by a fraction.

Her grin was more accurately reflected on Síora’s face as her friend slipped into the room. “Oh, carants, you are lovely!” She crossed the room to take Vesper’s hands in hers. “I am honored to be included in this day.”

“Of course. You’re the closest thing I have to family,” Vesper said, squeezing her hands. “You’re one of the people I want here most.”

Síora squeezed her hands back before letting go. “I have a gift for you.” She reached in one of the small pouches on her decorative belt and pulled something out to press into Vesper’s palm.

It was a small charm on a woven cord, oblong rather than the triangular ones several of their group had dangling from their gear. The cord was long enough to be tied as a belt or sash, carefully woven with soft blue and sunny gold thread, two small soft grey feathers bound to the edge.

“It is for good fortune,” Síora explained as Vesper turned the charm over in her hands. “And for long-lasting happiness, which is what I wish for you, both of you, more than anything, my friend.”

Vesper embraced her with fiercely whispered thanks, then tied the cord at the lower edge of her bodice so the charm hung down among the folds of her skirt. “Like so?” She smiled at Síora’s affirming nod, checked her hair and earrings one last time in the mirror, running her fingers over the carved bone necklace to make sure everything was perfect. It still reflected only a pale shadow of her smile.

“I believe the time is near, carants,” Síora said, all but beaming. It made Vesper wonder how much of her own anticipation showed. “Are you ready?”

Vesper pressed her fingers to the necklace, thought briefly of each mother who had passed it along to her, and nodded. “Oh, very much so,” she confirmed with an exhilarated smile. More than I have been for anything in my life.

---

It was only a short walk to the throne room, which was a good thing. Vesper struggled enough with maintaining a decorous pace as it was; had the distance been any longer she may have broken into a sprint.

When the doors opened to admit them, Vesper made sure to survey the chamber, taking in all the gathered faces. She knew once she found one in particular, her focus would be unwavering. Best to commit what she could to memory before it all faded to the background. She tried not to dwell on the one face she wished was there but wasn’t. (Constantin would have been insufferably excited and the ghost of his enthusiasm was keenly felt.)

Her gaze traveled over familiar faces--friends, allies, Mother Cardinal Cornelia, who was officiating, and then slowed to a halt on Kurt.

She’d been right; everything else faded into mute, vague periphery when she saw him. He hadn’t shaved--which she’d been hoping would be the case--but his outfit was the nicest thing she’d seen him wear by a mile. Crisp white shirt, dark trousers, and a jacket so deep blue it made the piercing grey of his eyes stand out even more than usual. Eyes locked with hers and saying a thousand things neither of them would ever manage to put into words. It suddenly didn’t matter there was a watching crowd, or Mother Cardinal Cornelia standing ready, or anyone else. There was no one in the world save her and Kurt.

--And Síora, gently tugging Vesper back into motion, as her feet had stopped with her gaze. Vesper stumbled slightly, her grin somehow going even wider and eyes still locked with Kurt’s as she let Síora guide her forward. She wondered if his heart was pounding as hard as hers. 

The last few steps to join him seemed to take an eternity, but finally she was close enough to slip her hands in his. Síora gave her arm a final squeeze, sent them each a small smile, and stepped away. 

Vesper shifted closer to Kurt, relishing the brush of calloused fingers against her skin, gentle as he always was with her. She squeezed his hands, not even attempting to fight her grin. There was a small charm peaking out of his pocket, very much like the one Síora had given her.

“Ready?” she murmured. She knew a crowd this size wasn’t his preference--it wasn’t hers, either. But with everything the island had been through in the past year, people needed something to celebrate. Governor de Morange had been been very persuasive in her suggestion the wedding of New Sérène’s legate was just such an occasion. So even if they would both have been fine doing this in a no-name chapel with only their friends as witness, here they stood.

“More than,” Kurt returned, eyes shining and voice rough. “Vesper, you...” He cleared his throat and held his silence as Cornelia started speaking.

Vesper was blind to the audience, listening just enough to the Mother Cardinal’s words to follow the ceremony, her gaze, her heart, her focus locked with Kurt’s. The joy and anticipation cresting, building, overflowing in in her chest was too much to do otherwise. It was all she could do to keep her breathing steady, to maintain decorum and not start bouncing on her toes as they worked their way through the dictum, the blessing, the vows. And from the twinkle in Kurt’s eyes he wasn’t doing much better.

As they drew near the ending pronouncement, Vesper’s excitement overruled her sense of decorum and she did start bouncing. Just a faint rocking up on her toes, but she was sure at least some of the guests noticed. She didn’t care. Say it, say it, say it-!

The second the words “man and wife” left Cornelia’s mouth Vesper surged forward. She and Kurt released each other’s hands in the same moment, newly exchanged rings catching the sunlight as his arms wrapped around her waist and hers around his neck. They were both grinning as their mouths met in a fervent kiss. Vesper’s feet came off the ground and Kurt shifted half a step back to compensate balance for her enthusiasm, a laugh rumbling in his chest.

(She was pretty sure she heard chuckles from her friends as she found her footing, dipping briefly backwards with the continuing kiss. Let them laugh.)

They finally broke apart, foreheads resting together as they absorbed the polite cheers of their guests. Kurt’s thumb caressed her cheek, tracing her jaw, the boundary of her mark, her cheekbone. 

“You seem excited, wife,” he said softly, the gentle teasing not masking the wonder in his eyes. The moniker and the tenderness with which he uttered it sent a thrill shivering down her spine.

Vesper shifted her hand to cup the side of his face. “Can you blame me? Husband,” she murmured, emotion making her voice squeak and waver on the word.

Kurt’s smile was at least the match of hers. “No, I can’t,” he said huskily, hand sliding to the back of her head, fingers digging into her hair.

He kissed her again and and the incandescent joy made it hard to breathe. Harder still to remember they still had an audience.

---

The next few hours passed in a whirl, full of celebration, well-wishes that ranged from polite strangers to enthusiastic friends.

Vesper, of course, knew every one, even if the mere thought of remembering all those names and faces made Kurt dizzy. He didn’t know how she kept it straight. Just one more way in which she was a wonder.

It was almost enough to make him wonder if this was real. He was more than content that she loved him(for some reason), that she wanted him for whatever time they had.

That she’d brought up and carried through making that time the rest of their lives was so far beyond what he’d ever dared hope or dream for his life it left him a bit breathless. There was an ache of emotion sitting tight in his chest Kurt could neither explain nor dissipate. Not that he wanted to. He ran a look over the room, bodyguard’s instincts impossible to stem, even at his wedding. If anything, they felt sharper than usual. 

“Looking out for our-- well, your Legate?” Vasco asked, strolling over to lean against the wall near where Kurt stood.

“I did just swear an oath to defend her with my life beyond even the former contract,” he replied dryly. “And some habits can’t be laid aside.”

“No aspersions, Captain,” Vasco said with a genial laugh, half-raising his hands.  “It’s a lucky thing you can have each others’ backs in the face of any storms you may face.”

“Given her role, I think storms are inevitable,” Kurt said, watching Vesper smile as she conversed with the governor. “But those storms haven’t met her.”

Vasco chuckled. “You have indeed married a force of nature, my friend. The gentlest one I’ve encountered by far, but even a gentle stream can wear away hardened stone.”

Kurt nodded, too entranced by Vesper’s smile, the curve of her jaw, the warmth in her eyes, to look away or do more than grunt a noncommittal reply. Even to her praises being sung.

Vasco took it in stride, smile tugging his lips as he commented, ”With the way you’re looking at her, it’s a wonder you’re not joined at the hip,”  His eyes twinkled. “Though I suppose that part comes later, does it not?” He grinned at the flat look Kurt sent him, and leaned in closer, tone conspiratorial. “Much as she thrives on this, I don’t think your wife would mind if you stole her away from us.”

If that moniker ever stopped sending warmth buzzing through his veins, it would very likely mean he had perished. “You think?”

“It is all but a certainty,” Vasco said, head tipping toward Vesper, who was now watching them converse. Her grey eyes were doe-soft as they met his, and Kurt couldn’t resist temptation any longer, decorum be damned.

“I’ll take your word,” he muttered, and then was moving. In keeping with Vasco’s nudge, Vesper met him not quite halfway, her hand settling soft on his chest as his arm wrapped around her waist.

 “I’m tired of sharing,” he whispered in her ear.

She hummed a small laugh and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “So am I.”

“Well, then,” Kurt pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “I think it’s time we take our leave, sweet excellency.”

“Well past,” she agreed, and they started moving for the door.

---

It wasn’t half as hard as Kurt feared to extricate themselves from the affair. Half the guests seemed to be expecting their departure, and it was very likely the celebration would continue a good few hours yet even without them. Kurt didn’t care what the did so long as it left the palace standing, he didn’t care about anything save Vesper all but dragging him up the stairs.

“Is it wrong that I’m pleasantly surprised today went off without a hitch?” she asked with a small laugh when they reached the landing. 

“So long as it’s pleasantly,” Kurt chuckled. “Considerin’ how mishaps and excitement have dogged our heels since we stepped off the ship, I’d say no.”

“Good. I thought I might be getting cynical,” Vesper said lightly, heading for the bedroom door. “I had very high hopes for today, and they’ve been met in every respect but one.”

The twinkle in her eye made it the most obvious bait Kurt had ever seen, but he took it anyway. “And what respect would that be?” he asked, halting so close he was in her space.

She paused with her hand on the knob, mischievous smile pulling at her lips that all but undid him. “I haven’t gotten to kiss my husband nearly as much as I’d like.”

He laughed softly and tipped up her chin, thumb brushing her lower lip. “Lucky that’s easily remedied; it’s the one area I’d hope to exceed expectation.”

She opened her mouth to reply just as he kissed her, whatever she meant to say lost in a soft groan instead. Kurt’s fingers slid back toward her nape, tangling in her hair.

Vesper leaned into the kiss, one hand curving to the side of his neck, the other pressing against the doorknob until it twisted under the pressure and they stumbled into the room.

“Well, there’s our mishap for the day, I suppose,” she giggled, her hand now clutching his jacket collar for help holding her balance.

Kurt exhaled a laugh and rested his forehead to hers as she closed the door and leaned against it. “If that’s the worst we have to contend with, I’ll gladly take it,” he murmured, tracing her jaw with his thumb. A worry that had sat at the back of his mind for weeks now finally felt safe to voice. “Not to cast a dour mood over the happiest day of my life, but I am surprised your uncle didn’t try anything to delay or prevent this.” He arched a brow when she rolled her lips. “Assuming you wrote him?”

“Oh, I would never be so remiss as to not inform the Prince D’Orsay of my intentions,” Vesper said innocently, leaning her head back against the door to meet his eye. “I wrote him of my plans to wed, who I intended to marry and why. Made it abundantly clear I was declaring a planned course of action, not seeking permission or his blessing, then ensured the letter was safely aboard a ship headed for Sérène.” Her thumb traced an arc against his cheek, her eyes sparkling. “A month ago.”

In other words, the letter probably hadn’t even made it to the continent yet, let alone her uncle’s desk.

Kurt’s shoulder’s shook with laughter he couldn’t contain. “You are...” A minx. A marvel. So good at these games. “A wonder.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you so much.”

“And I you.” Vesper laced her fingers together around the back of his neck.  “Which is why I refuse to let anything, even my uncle, stand in the way of us being together. I love you and I want you, political machinations be damned.”

It still made it hard to breathe when she was so plain about it. “Someday I’ll figure what I did to deserve you,” he managed.

“And I’ll happily reel off my list until it sinks in,” she returned quietly, sliding both hands forward to cup his jaw. “You are enough, Kurt. Just you.”

“Vesper...” When she said it like that, looked at him like that, it made him want to believe it as strongly as she did. He kissed her again, hoping it would convey gratitude better than his fumbling words ever could.

She pressed into the kiss as well, hands clasping his collar to give her leverage. His hands settled on her waist to hold her close, neither wanting to break for more than quick gasps of air until the need became too great. 

Vesper stepped back first, gasping a deep breath and taking a moment to compose herself before she looked up to meet his gaze again. “Now, since we’ve established my uncle won’t be bothering us for a while... I think we’re both wearing too many clothes,” she said, twinkle in her eye.  “Though I must say, you clean up nicely, Captain.”

Kurt chuckled and brushed back wisps of her thoroughly mussed hair. “Not half so well as you, Excellency,” he countered, kissing the bridge of her nose.

“Almost a shame it has to come off,” she teased, hands trailing down the front to pick at the fastenings.

He slid one hand around her back, ran a finger up the lacing of her dress with just enough pressure to watch her bite her lip. “It doesn’t have to, if you’re enjoying it so much,” he murmured in her ear. 

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find other occasions for you to dress up,” she whispered back, nimble fingers unhooking the top few even as she spoke.

Kurt smiled and stole another kiss, shrugging out of the jacket as she undid the last fastening. Vesper’s now-free hands returned to cradling his jaw as she kissed him back. They lingered a moment before she withdrew and turned to allow him easier access for unlacing her dress.

“Which also means other occasions for this-” Her breath caught at the kiss he brushed to the curve of her neck as he started to unwork the laces. “Kurt-!”

A smile tugged his lips as his finger fingers tugged the laces. “Yes, wife?” he murmured against her skin before repeating the kiss.

Vesper’s shoulders rolled and a hum of pleasure escaped her. “....don’t dawdle.”

That was never a risk with her, even less so today, as his heart felt ready to beat out of his chest, but he couldn’t resist. “Quite the change of tune,” he whispered, even as he reached the bottom of the lacing and the dress fell loose.

Vesper pivoted, wriggled free of the soft purple gown, which she draped haphazardly over a chair near where his jacket had fallen. “As I said, there will be other occasions, husband.” She looped an arm around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “For many things,” she murmured against his lips.

She was right and he knew it and it was the final nudge Kurt needed to sweep her up in his arms and head for the bed. While he would acquiesce and not dawdle too much, he did want to enjoy this. Even knowing she was right--there would be many more occasions, for many things.

A whole lifetime of them.

#queens fic #kiss prompts #vesper de sardet #greedfall kurt #ves/kurt #greedfall #now the original batch is done i can start plotting for all the NEW prompts in my inbox xD

[fatal-plastic-kiss]

I was tagged by @starrybluez​ to answer these questions. Thank you, Dina! 💙

1.  What are you currently reading? :  Gulf Coast Girl by Charles Williams

2.  What’s your favorite movie you saw in theaters this past year? :  I haven’t been to a movie theater since 2014.

3.  What do you usually wear? :  If I’m at home I’m wearing my pajamas or sweatpants. When I get dressed up, I wear dresses, skirts, and suit jackets. I usually wear black tights instead of pantyhose cause I don’t like wasting and they never last. After one use, they’re ruined. Ripping at the bottom of my foot.

4.  How tall are you? :  5 feet 7 and 1/2 inches without shoes.

5.  What’s your star sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or historical event? :  I am a Libra. I’m blessed to share my birthday (September 24th) with many gifted people in history. Phil Hartman, Linda McCartney, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Jim Henson, etc. Some historical events on September 24th include - In 1657, the first autopsy and coroner’s verdict is recorded. 1789, the United States Post Office Department is established. 1930, the play ‘Private Lives’ premieres in London. 1952, Colonel Sanders opens the first Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) restaurant. 1957, the song Jailhouse Rock by Elvis Presley is released. 1964, ‘The Munsters’ premieres on television. 1977, ‘The Love Boat’ premieres on television.

6.  Do you go by your name or a nickname? :  I go by many names and I’m never opposed to any nickname that someone thinks of for me. I love my name Elizabeth because it’s perfect for my old soul. My parents have called me ‘Miss Beth’ since I was a baby. I chose ‘Libby’ for others to call me, because it’s not as common. I’ve liked it since I first heard it used in the movie ‘What A Girl Wants’ when I was a kid. My boss calls me ‘Squirrely’ , ‘Bootsy’ and ‘Little One’.

7.  Did you grow up to be what you wanted to be as a child? :  Sadly no. I’ve tried before, but I’m not brave enough.

8.  What’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at? :  I have an excellent memory and I pray to never lose it. I’m not good at being overly busy. I get overwhelmed if there’s too much going on within a few days. I like to know plans ahead of time. Last minute changes make me nervous.

9. Dog or Cats? :  I squeal about every animal! They all deserve love.

10.   If you draw/write, or create in any way, what's your favourite picture/favourite line/favourite etc. from something you created this past year? :  I did a children’s face painting job over the summer, and these were some of the illustrations I drew for the designs.

11.  What's something you would like to create content for?:  I would enjoy creating collage artwork for vinyl covers and greeting cards.

12.  What’s something you’re currently obsessed with? :  Reading historical romance novels.

13.  What’s a hidden talent of yours? :  I’ve always used my singing voice, but I’ve rarely ever sang in front of other people. I’m not comfortable with people being awestruck over me. I’m completely flattered of course, but it feels awkward when it’s about my voice because it’s such an intimate part of me.

14.  Are you religious? :  I’m very spiritual, but not religious.

15.  Are you in a relationship? :  I’m smitten for a British gentleman. My cat Filipp is also a committed relationship. I worship him. He is my king. 👑🐈

16.  What’s something you wish to have at this moment? :  Every day I wish that my mom could remain timelessly alive - looking and being exactly as she is now. I know that her soul will live forever, but I wish her body could to. It will destroy me when I can’t feel her hugs anymore. She is my best friend and the most sacred love that I’ll ever have.

I tag :  @rhavewellyarnbag​ , @calliopekenobi​ , @raylangivens-hat​ , @silveryladystar​ , @thetombofalfalfa​  Just if you’d like to :) 

#tagged

[fudgetunblr]

I posted 10,411 times in 2022

817 posts created (8%)

9,594 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@arthurpendragonns

@robiinbuckley

@nessa007

@kieumy-archive

I tagged 2,519 of my posts in 2022

#frank diaries - 319 posts

#🥰her🥰 - 131 posts

#🥰them🥰 - 130 posts

#the umbrella academy - 93 posts

#tuaedit - 88 posts

#stranger things - 86 posts

#tua - 79 posts

#frank rewatches miobi - 78 posts

#tvedit - 65 posts

#stranger things spoilers - 65 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#swimming was fine but it was diving and jumping and shit which was probably the wrong choice for me since i was too scared to really dive

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

The parallel between the first and last episode of Derry Girls where Erin is restricted from wearing a jeans jacket to express her individuality, to her putting one on after she's voted. 11/10.

1,042 notes - Posted October 8, 2022

#4

Ok some thoughts about Kanye and his bullshit:

1. If you’re a holocaust denier then you’re a fucking idiot. There are people still alive today (or that have passed away THIS year) that fell victim to the nazi parties heinous crimes. More than half the Jewish population was killed in the holocaust. Several other marginalised groups were also imprisoned and killed. Even after the Second World War things weren’t magically okay again and we see the repurcussions of the nazi parties actions and ideas to this day.

2. Hitler wasn’t a good guy, he was the leader of a party that committed unspeakable acts and crimes against humanity.

3. Kanye has said horrible things about slavery as well in the past, claiming it was a choice. If you think people would chose to be degraded, killed and treated like a second class citizen, then you’re a fucking idiot.

4. If I see anyone try to make Kanye’s “downfall” about Taylor Swift I’m going to scream. She is not the first woman he has done wrong, there’s a list of women, specifically black women, Kanye has been an absolute piece of shit to. Taylor Swift is not a holier than thou celebrity, she has a long list of fucked up things she has done as well, she does not have a place in this. I don’t want to hear about her, focus on what’s important here.

5. I don’t care how you feel about Kim Kardashian. She’s not devoid of criticism, however, the way Kanye has acted after their split has been unacceptable and no one deserves that shit.

6. Yes, he’s mentally ill, but mental illness does not turn you into a bigot and it certainly doesn’t excuse all the bullshit he’s pulling.

Anyways, support the Jewish population. Stop denying an event in history that was designed to purge them from existence. Stop supporting Kanye, he does not deserve your support even a little bit. If despite all of this you still insist on supporting him, get the fuck off my page.

1,340 notes - Posted December 3, 2022

#3

See the full post

1,403 notes - Posted June 30, 2022

#2

Pretty sure Nandor’s wishes are all used up, the djinn is just bored as fuck and he knows Nandor won’t wish for anything useful ever.

1,420 notes - Posted August 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I could make so many of these 😭😭

8,147 notes - Posted July 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I- #I’m Aurores biggest fan actually 😭🤧

[kairakeiji]

"you're gonna get sick."

akaashi sighed as he watched you under the safe cover of the gym roof. it’s much warmer here, at least warmer than it was out there.

"keiji!" you cried out. "it's snowing!"

"i'm well aware," he nods. "that's why you should come here.”

"nonsense!" you exclaimed turning to him. "it's the first snow of the season!"

"i'm well aware," he repeats. "and if you stay out there any longer you'll catch a cold."

but you only ignore his comments. “so what?” you counter. “if i get a cold then it’ll be totally worth it.”

“no it won’t,” he sighs rubbing his temple, “i’ll have to take care of you if you are.” he adds.

“did you say something?”

and he only mumbles, “no,” before he watches you simply shrug and go back to the snow. the boy winced when he saw you slip and fall into the soft snow, realizing that you were only wearing a thin jacket. but despite this you simply sat up, laughing as snow continued to fall around you. he only shakes his head at your actions but he can’t hide the grin that grew on his lips.

“isn’t it pretty?” you smile.

yet akaashi could only think about how beautiful you looked in the snow.

stray snowflakes sat in your hair as you turned back to him. there's a bright smile on your lips, one that made his heart race as you reached a hand out, offering once more. “come join me!”

and who would he be to refuse?

so he walks over to you, taking his chances in the freezing weather as he helps you stand from the snow. he takes your hand, not missing how cold it was. “see?” you smile at your boyfriend who refuses to look at you and your happy grin. “that wasn’t so hard was it?”

he zips up your thin jacket, “you’re freezing.”

and you simply shrug, “i’m fine.”

but he simply hands you one of his gloves, “you need to take better care of yourself.” he sighs.

“aww,” you giggle, slipping it on, “thank you keiji. but aren’t your hands gonna be cold?”

and to that, he takes his hand, the one that had the matching glove, and slips it into your other one “they won’t be now.”

“so sweet, so cheesy,” you tease. but as you look back at the snow that continuously fell, akaashi could only keep his eyes on you. “now you can finally enjoy the snow wi-” but you’re cut off as his hand brushes a strand of hair away from your face before resting on your cheek, eyes taking in as much of your features as he could. “your hands are warm,” you mumble.

“that’s because i made sure to dress for the weather,” and despite the fact that your face falls, there’s a soft smile on akaashi’s lips before he leans into you.

there’s a sense of whimsy to it, the way that keiji kissed you as the snow fell. your hands wrapped around his neck as his continued to rest on your cheeks, trying to provide some kind of warmth. you swear you could feel him smile at the rather euphoric moment as you both felt a chill in the air. but neither of you minded heck neither of you cared.

keiji pulled away for a split second resting his forehead against yours.

a part of you wishes he could hear your racing heartbeat.

“do it again,” you whisper before he crashes his lips into yours once more, relishing in the happiness and pure bliss that this brought you. sure, you’ve kissed hundreds of times in the past, but this one felt different.

“again,” you sigh, feeling much warmer than before.

but this felt like one you wanted to remember forever.

“again,” you mumble against his lips.

it felt like something you wanted to commit to memory.

“one more.”

it felt perfect.

you pulled away from him breathless resting your head against his shoulder. “we should go back inside now.”

and you can’t help the smile on your face when akaashi’s grip on you tightens and he answers.

“let's stay out here a little longer.”

for @faetarou ‘s collab thank u again for hosting bestie - collab masterlist here!

thanks for reading! reblogs are incredibly appreciated mwah <3

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu drabble #akaashi #akaashi fluff #akaashi imagine #akaashi drabble #hq #x reader #fluff #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #hq akaashi #haikyuu!! #haikyu #haikyū!! #writing.txt

[witch-hazels-musings]

a place for the weary 

Convincing the boys to take a break and rest their head on your lap, because they all work so hard and need a comfortable place to just ... be  - plus … some of them just need love and affection (please) 

Includes: Albedo, Diluc, Scaramouche, Kaeya 

Warning -> SFW

Character X GN reader 

Albedo 

He’s busy, always busy - whether he’s working on some research in the labs or out in the field, he’s hardly ever taking a moment to stop. What he finds most relaxing is drawing, painting the scenery in front of him until he gets it all perfect, and while you love to watch how his face twists, his eyes scrunch together as he examines the lines on the page, you also wish he would take a moment to do nothing 

If you suggest the activity to him, he may wonder what could be the purpose of it; he might ask you a lot of questions as he leans down to rest his head on your lap 

“Albedo,” you call out to him as you watch him shuffle through the crates examining the bottles and other items sprawled in the container. He tilts his head to look at you, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a glass contained filled with some sort of liquid. “You’ve been working for so long, come take a rest.” You pat your leg and invite him to join you on the soft blanket you’d laid out some time ago. 

“I’m trying to make sure we have …” 

“I know,” you chuckle, “and it’ll be there for you after you take a quick break.” 

He straightened himself out, his torso stretching and overcorrecting slightly as he elongated out his muscles. The bottle slipped further into his palm as he moved his hand up and down, bouncing it slightly as he contemplated your suggestion. You knew it wasn’t like him to take breaks like this, still, you hoped he would at least this time.

“If it makes you feel more productive, bring your notebook so you can draw.” That seemed much more enticing, you smiled to yourself as you watched him retrieve his journal before falling in place at your side. 

You were always persistent in getting him to take a moment, a small second to stop moving or relax his eyes which only seemed to be tired when he rested against you 

After the first few times, he had tried a couple of different iterations until he found the best position to be the one he was participating in right now. Legs bent so he could prop his drawing notebook or journal onto them; his legs acting as a makeshift easel so he could sketch or paint what was in the background 

He may be inclined to share his thoughts with you, perhaps dominating the conversation as he ponders on rhetorical questions and thoughts that fill his mind, but you don’t care because your hands are busy in his hair anyway 

After finding a comfortable place for his head, the back of his hair pushed itself up as he slid along the edge of your thigh. You shifted so he could have enough space and while he began to work, you could continue reading through your book. These moments you cherished, these simple, peaceful moments that allowed you to be close to him while giving him all the freedom he’d ever shown you. 

Every once in a while you glanced down to his notebook and became transfixed by the way his pencil moved across the page. How each line transitioned from nonsense into a masterful capture of the world stretched out in front of him. It was incredible how his eyes were able to see so much and his hands moved to copy it all down. He didn’t seem to mind the corners of the page fluttering in the wind or how leaves would fall haphazardly around him, resting quietly on his chest or in his hair. 

Your hands instinctively went to retrieve them, your thumb sliding across the bumpy surface and fingers pushing against his soft blonde hair. Letting the leaf meander on its way to the ground, you returned your fingers to his head. The tips ran over his forehead, trailing until they came to rest on his outer ear and carefully you tucked some strands of his hair behind it. You heard him sigh and noticed the quick movements of the pen slow to a near stop, a sign for you to continue. 

Carefully, you returned your bookmark to the page before resting it onto the blanket. Your hands found their way back to his hair and they began to work their way to his scalp. Your nails sliding along, underneath, below, and over each strand as if you were inspecting it all. The soft texture of it, and the reaction of its owner, made the experience all the better. 

After a while, Albedo seemed to pull himself away from the trance you had put him under. A line here, a curve there, his pencil began to move again and the once empty spaces of the paper grew into a beautiful work of art. You too returned to the book you were reading but left one hand against his hair, your fingers moving every once in a while. 

The two of you shared in a moment, uninterrupted, and through the connection, the both of you felt more energized than before. 

Diluc

Relax? What is relax -> Diluc doesn’t know how, when, or what he would even do to relax so getting him to take a break, to have a moment would be a battle to say the least

You’re much more likely to find success if he’s tired, like super tired, tired to the point you see him shaking his head or rubbing his eyes with his fingers - here he is less likely to deny you - here you have more push in your persuasion 

You walked into the study knowing full well what you would find when you pushed open the door. There he was, just as you had imagined him, with his head peering down at documents, his fist balled and pressing against his forehead, his other hand gripping a pen and moving across the papers. 

The light from the midday sun slipped through the window and surrounded him in a beautiful glow; an ethereal being with hair the color of juiciest apples and skin paler than the cups of china stocked in the kitchen below. If Diluc would allow it, you’d have stolen several photos of him while he worked, but he wasn’t fond of pictures. 

You walked up to the desk and noticed that he had barely eaten the lunch the maids had prepared for him, a few bites taken but nothing substantial. He continued his work even as you approached the front desk, moments like these reminded you how much he trusted you. To allow someone to invade his space like this was an unbelievable sign of faith from the ever distrustful Diluc Ragnvindr. 

“Diluc, are you finished with this?” You asked, resting your hand on the edge of the desk and the other grazing the edge of the plate. 

“Mm?” He looked up at you, his eyes fuzzy and tired, you glanced with your eyes toward the plate and he followed their gaze. “Oh, yes. I’m finished.” You gave him a weak smile as your fingers closed around the cold ceramic. His head dropped back to the paperwork and you shook your own. Moving to place the plate on the tray next to the entrance of the study, you quickly returned to him but this time moving to his side. 

“How’s it coming?” You asked him, your hand drifting toward his shoulder and you grinned as his torso shifted to press deeper into your touch. 

“More and more orders are coming in. Seasonal changes always bring business, but it’s difficult to keep the orders together.” 

“Hmm, well I know you’ll get it done, you always figure it out.” You slid your hand along his back and noticed how he stopped the movements of his pen. “Why don’t you take a break?” 

“I’m far too busy for that.” He voiced, pulling himself back and away from you.

You reached for his hand, your fingers sliding over his bare skin. He disliked wearing gloves while he worked like this. “Indulge me?” 

You’ve instructed him to remove his jacket, the heavy fabric would distract from the relaxation you explained would come - he’s a bit hesitant about it, but you’ve asked so nicely how can he possibly say no to you 

He will lay on his back and look away from you in an effort to hide his embarrassment or weakness - as the master of the winery, the owner of this business, the pride of so many resting on his shoulders he always told himself that he has to hold it all together, until the day he realized you were the only thing holding him together

He melts, purely and simply, the ever stoic Diluc finds peace with you 

His head provides a nice pressure on your legs, his shoulders press against your thigh as you help him get comfortable here. He’s so tall that his feet fall off the daybed, but he doesn’t say anything or really move after. One of his arms rests at his sides while the other lay across his stomach, and you can’t help but smile at the tense way his fingers wrap themselves into a comforting fist. 

“I won’t hold you here for long, just try and relax.” You express knowing full well he will have a hard time doing just that. You’ve made sure his hair isn’t tucked underneath him and you admire the way it contrasts with your dark pants. With deft fingers, you undo the ribbon that keeps his hair in place, and as soon as it’s released you begin to fan the strands over your legs. 

Carefully, you run your hands over his hair, pressing lightly as you start at the crown of his head and work your way over the red pool on your lap. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed his fist beginning to relax, the way his long fingers extended across his stomach told you that he was finally committing to your request. From there, you decided to work your way through his hair, your fingers sifting and moving through the mess of wildfire on top of his head. 

Each time you moved to a new, untouched spot he relaxed more. His legs bending slightly, his hands opening up, his expression softening and soon, he began to turn toward you. His head moved, forehead now pressed against your hip, his body shifted just slightly to be closer to you. 

You began to softly hum, the sound of your voice adding to the calming atmosphere of the quiet study and, in a matter of minutes, you could see the steady rise and fall of Diluc’s chest, the inhale and exhale of air as it slipped past his lips and the irregular twitch of his fingers as he slipped off to sleep. 

A maid entered the room shortly after and when she saw the two of you in the back of the study and noticed the smile slightly hidden under your index finger as you indicated to her of the sleeping man on your lap, she bowed and exited the room. 

Scara

Grumpy - the embodiment of grumpy and absolute worst at taking any suggestion, ever. So when you bring this idea up to him, he’s super against it. He doesn’t want to appear, look, seem soft in any way - ‘what is this silly little thing you are asking me to do?’

He’d push the idea away every time you bring it up -- that is until the day your legs look so tantalizing they are practically calling his name. Perhaps it's the way your hands rest in your lap as they hold onto a book, or the light as it hits your legs, or just the sound of your voice as you offer him a place to rest again and again - he finally succumbs 

You’ve been sitting in Scara’s living room for some time now. You learned early on to let him do his own thing and not get in his way, he had made that very clear. Still, you were happy he let you invade his space, that he let you be someone that he tolerated more than most. It definitely ignited your pride to have someone of his stature interested in you. 

Though, the only issue with him was the fact that he was always on the move. He never seemed to be stationary for long, and often would be gone for days or weeks at a time, sometimes with a warning. So, you learned to keep yourself busy and take in every moment you could with him. 

He had been in and out most of the day so you found yourself preoccupied with your things. Reading, working, relaxing, whatever followed the requirements of the day; you just went with the flow. Today held those sentiments very strongly as you got comfortable on the couch, one leg resting underneath you and the other bouncing on the ball of your foot. You had been engrossed in your book for so long, the characters' adventures gripping you and pulling you through every hill and valley they traveled. You were so absorbed in the words that you didn’t notice Scara calling your name, or how he stood in front of you with his hands on his hips. 

Fingers entered your vision and a loud snap sound directly in front of you. You looked up startled and when you saw his face you finally welcomed him. 

“Hey, I didn’t notice you were home.” You show him a kind smile and receive nothing in return. 

“I was calling you.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“What have you been doing all day? Lazing about what it looks like.” He crossed his arms and looked around the room before returning his attention to you. 

“I’m taking a break, you’re welcome to join me.” You added, patting your lap. 

“I’ve already told you I would never do something so childish.” 

You chuckle, slipping your fingers in between the pages of your book. “I know, figured I’d give it another shot. Are you heading back out?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” He replied; conversations were often like this with him, short and to the point and almost always without any real answer. So you returned your attention to your book, the pages calling your name as your eyes scanned down the page before landing back on the sentence from which you had been pulled from. 

You were drawn back into the scene only to be ripped out of it once again. The book in your hand was pushed to the side, your elbow knocking into the arm of the chair and your head snapping to the source of the disturbance. Scara’s face suddenly came into view as his head rested against your lap, his eyes staring at the ceiling and cheeks speckled with the color silk flowers.

He has this response to things that can throw others off so quickly. He’s violent and angry, but he shows these small signs of humanity in his actions, simple, small things every once in a while it reminds you of a small child who isn’t sure what he really wants 

The more he participates in this activity, the more likely he will invade your lap whenever the urge comes over him. He’ll push whatever is in your lap away, if he’s feeling really nice he’ll pick it up and place it elsewhere, otherwise you learn to never hold anything breakable here - he won’t look at you either, his eyes will look away, always, and he expects you to know what he wants, don’t make him beg for anything 

You never once expected him to follow through with your request, not in a million years. So when he settles against your legs, his face right next to your stomach and eyes looking upward at you, you're unsure how to respond. 

“Well, I’m here.” He says, crossing his arms and legs as he waits expectantly for your attention. You’re so taken-aback that you can’t help but burst into laughter. Covering your face with your hand, the sound of your voice spills into the room and makes the harbinger shift against you. “I knew this was stupid …” He huffs and you have to use so much more strength than you anticipated to pull him back. 

“I’m sorry. I just … I never expected … please, don’t go.” You look at him with hopeful eyes and with a sigh he returns his head to your legs. While one of your hands rests against the top of his head, the other works to save your place in your book before resting it on the end table. You don’t even notice that your fingers have started to play with the short locks of his hair until you look back at his face and see his eyes closed. 

You stall, but only long enough for him to slightly open his eyes and look at you, his expression of ‘did I tell you to stop’ speaking volumes. So, you start to work your fingers through his hair, the dark purple strands slip easily through your fingers as you shift them around. Spreading your hands out and pressing the tips of your fingers against his scalp and, as your bravery grows, you move your fingers toward his jaw and along the edge of his hairline. His short hair gives you a great view of his face, and you wonder if this is the first time you’ve ever really had the opportunity to look at him. He’s incredibly handsome, one reason he was able to capture you so easily, and the longer you played with his hair, the further the corner of his mouth moved into a faint smile. You would do almost anything for that smile. 

A soft chuckle sounds from your throat and the calmness of your actions is gone in an instant. His eyes are open and he’s slipped from your lap, his feet connecting to the floor and the warmth of his body dissipating from your legs. You protest, but he’s already halfway across the room and is clearly trying to keep you from looking at his face. 

Kaeya

He is all about this activity - honestly, he’s all about any type of touch you want to offer him and while he has a lot on his plate, he will take these moments to be with you. He doesn’t care either where or around who, he may be partaking in this delectable experience - his mind is filled with you and, when you hold him, touch him, love him, he can think of nothing else 

You hadn’t seen him all day, which wasn’t uncommon when there were new recruits or the knights were preparing for a subjection out in the wilderness, Kaeya was typically busier during these times. So, when there were days he wouldn’t be able to get away, and you knew he would continue to work until everything was done, you would find your way to him and offer him a short reprieve from the duties of his work. 

He was standing in the hallway consumed in a conversation with one of the knights. His usually peppy demeanor seemed faded, his shoulders drooped a bit further, his gestures more muted as spoke with the other party, and overall, he didn’t seem as energetic as he normally was. 

The closer you got, the more attention you drew, and soon Kaeya turned to look at what was drawing the eyes of his speaking partner. 

“Y/N. What a pleasant surprise.” He perked up when he saw you, the light in his blue eyes flashing, a smile stretching across his face. 

“Hey! I wanted to stop by since I had a moment. Are you free?” You asked him, crossing your hands behind your back and giving the other knight a quick head nod who returned your hello in a similar manner. 

“Of course, I will spare all my time for you.” He closed the distance between the two of you, an arm draping around your shoulder and pulling you close. 

“Captain, we’ve been asked to …” 

“Yes, yes. I’ll get right on it.” He affirmed to the knight before turning all his attention to you and ushering you down the hallway toward his office. 

“Are you sure you are free? If you need me to come ba …” 

“Nonsense, how could I pass up this opportunity. Do not worry your pretty little head.” He laughed, his smile wide and eyes closed. 

“Okay, I won’t keep you long then.” 

“Oh, but I was hoping you’d save me from this boring day.” He laughed and squeezed you closer to his side, even though you could tell he was more tired than usual he was still able to give you so much of his energy.

Kaeya will turn his head toward you, he’ll wrap his hand around your waist because even here he cannot get close enough 

Here, he can breathe you in and be the center of your attention - which is his most favorite thing

What he prefers, what he loves most, is when you touch his face, stroke his cheeks with the back of your fingers or your hands as they slide over him, the way you run your fingers along his brow, his jaw, and across his neck - these actions will give him the chills and it may be the only time you truly see him react in such a way 

When you get settled onto the couch in his office you call him to you. He eagerly takes the space next to you as if it was always meant for him. 

“Lay down, you look exhausted.” You explain, extending your arm around him and waving him to rest in your lap. 

“Hah, are you trying to take advantage of me?” He asks, moving closer to you rather than doing what you asked. 

“If taking advantage of you looks like letting you take a break, then yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing here.” Your laughter fills his ears and he remembers just how much he missed the sound. 

“How can I possibly say no to you?” 

“I know, I’m pretty convincing. Now, come here.” You pull on the sleeve of his arm and he quickly follows your guidance. His head settles onto your thighs, his face as close to your stomach as he can get, and his hands resting against his chest. 

You help him drape his hair over your leg and start working your way through his bangs, sliding your fingers along his forehead. His playful smile slips into a relaxed expression as he takes in the feeling of your touch on his skin. The way you trace your fingers down his cheek, over his nose, across his lips, his jawline, he is beyond happy here. 

“Do you know when you might be able to take a real break?” You ask, running your fingers through the blue strands of his hair, admiring the way it looks as you move them to places they don’t normally rest. 

“It seems there are many days ahead of us. These new recruits are …” He lifted his hands into a shrug before dropping them back onto his chest, “Well, progressing at their own pace we’ll say.” 

“So it’ll be a while.” 

“Perhaps. Don’t fret though, I’ll always make time for you to refill my reserves.” 

“I’ll take on that request.” You look down at him and catch his eyes staring back, he moves his hand to rest against your arm and gives it a tight squeeze before turning his face toward you. His eye closes and even as the conversation dies down, as his breathing becomes slower, and his hand slips down the side of your arm you know he won’t fall asleep. He never falls asleep when you are with him like this, no matter how tired he is he refuses to miss a single moment. 

#genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya #kaeya #diluc X reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #albedo x reader #albedo #genshin albedo #genshin impact albedo #scaramouche

[johnkrrasinski]

started from a call

full masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 3,610

Warning: angst with a happy ending! that's all.

Summary: written for @wkemeup's 9k writing challenge with the prompt "character a leaves an embarrassing, drunk message on character b’s voicemail and spends the rest of the night trying to discreetly delete it from [b]’s phone." inspired by a bit of ross and rachel from friends too. you found out from steve that bucky was in love with you in high school but after he returns home with a girl in his arm, you cancelled your plans to tell him how you feel. will you and bucky have your happy ending?

a/n: please like, reblog and leave a feedback. :) enjoy!

"Alright, I'll see you tonight. Bye." He leaned against the kitchen counter and hung up the phone with a grin on his face. "You hear that, Sam? We're going on our third date tonight." He threw his phone up into the air and caught it so casually without spilling a drop of his coffee sitting on his right hand. "Looks like I'm getting that 300 bucks soon."

"Hey, easy. You ain't going to that date yet, who knows? She could bail on you. It doesn't count if the date doesn't end well."

"Oh, but it will. I just gotta turn on my charm and next thing you know, we're already meeting the parents stage."

"Meeting the parents? That's a big step from you, Buck."

"Hey, I'm a man of my words. If I said that I'm going to change this year then I'm gonna stick to it."

"So Leah isn't just a one-time thing to get 300 bucks?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no. We'll see how tonight goes. But one thing's for sure is that I'm getting that 300 bucks."

Sam and Bucky made a bet as their New Year's resolution that Bucky would never go on a second date with any girl or remember to call her in the morning after a wild night. His commitment issues had given him a reputation as the player in the gang. It wasn't a new thing anymore to anyone that when they visited Bucky's place in the morning, they would see a girl with a dopey smile and slightly ruffled hair walking out of his apartment, giddy that Bucky just made a promise to call her later.

You, Natasha, Wanda, Sam and Steve were hanging out at Nat's place. The six of you had been friends since college. You, Nat, Bucky and Steve had known each other since high school and the four of you kept in touch despite going to separate universities. You met Wanda when you went to NYU and Steve met Sam while he was in Harvard. Long story short, after the four of you graduated, you and Wanda lived together as roommates and even started your own bakery business. Steve and Bucky lived in the same building as you and Natasha and Sam lived nearly alone. They were too independent for roommates. Don't even start on Natasha and how much she valued her personal space. That's how the six of you ended up here, gathered at your place on a Saturday afternoon.

"Are you gonna pick her up tonight?"

"Of course. Gonna clean up well, bring her some flowers and knock on her door at 7 pm precisely. Which girl isn't gonna fall for that?" Bucky walked over to the couch you and Nat were sitting on and leaned on the headrest, his arms caging both you and Natasha.

You didn't say anything nor did Natasha because she knew about your feelings for Bucky. Despite never feeling that way about Bucky in high school, your feelings changed a week ago after learning that Bucky used to be in love with you but never had the courage to tell you. That's why he never had a girlfriend during his high school years and he wanted to take you to prom and confess his feelings to you but he was too late. Another guy had already snooped in first.

You were his first love but it wasn't reciprocated until now. That's why in college, he learned how to get over you and slept with as many women as possible because he felt like he lost four years of his life of finding the one. He never intended to be a player and feed girls empty promises, it just kind of became his way of dating. He was too afraid that no one could live up to you yet he enjoyed being with women. Hence, the bet.

The day you found out from Steve about Bucky's past feelings for you while playing truth or dare, you immediately wanted to call him up but Bucky was out of town for a few days and as soon as he was back home, he had Leah in his arm. Your heart was crushed. Wanda told you that it would probably last for a few days and that he'd eventually be single again but you totally did not expect this thing to turn into something serious. You loved Sam with every fibre of your being, he was like the big brother you never had, but you wanted to curse him for making that bet.

So you just rolled your eyes and stayed silent throughout this entire conversation, even though your heart felt like it was being stabbed over and over again. "Alright, I gotta go. Got a big date tonight. I'll see you guys in a few hours." Just like that, Bucky walked out of the room without knowing the pain his words caused you.

The next day you were sitting in your bed watching The Notebook in your pyjamas because you were too heartbroken to do anything productive. It was Sunday so you could just have a whole day to yourself and do absolutely nothing but cry. Wanda knocked on your door bringing a plate of cookies and she had a pitiful look on her face. "y/n? Sweetie? I made you these cookies, they might make you feel better." Sometimes you thank the stars for bringing her into your life.

"Thank you, Wanda. You're so nice to me." You know you probably sound like a hormonal whiny kid but everything made you cry at the moment.

"Do you need anything else? I know how it feels to get your heartbroken, trust me. When me and Vision had a fight and we didn't talk for days all I wanted was to curl up and never leave my bed, so in case you need anything, I'm here." She offered you that warm smile of hers.

"No, all I want right now is to just eat these cookies and go back to my film, thanks Wan."

"Okay, I'll be outside." Your pity party was interrupted when Nat arrived in her leather jacket and burst into your room.

"Get up, you are taking a shower and you're getting that face beat."

"Natasha, what the hell? Leave me alone."

"Y/N, listen to me. I got a date for you. His name is Scott and he's a real nice guy, he's funny, he's a good friend of mine and he is really smart. He is so much better than Bucky, I promise you. Now c'mon, I already told him that you are meeting him tonight at Stark's restaurant at 7."

You whined, doing anything you can to get her to leave you alone with your tears and your cookies but you knew that once Natasha set her mind on something, there's no talking her way out of it. Damn that woman with her determination.

"Y/N, c'mon! Wallowing all day isn't you. I know you and what's good for you. That's why I found you a great guy who will charm you so good that you will forget Barnes even existed. You can't let him win, y/n. If he's going to be happy with someone else, then you better show him that you can be much happier with other people."

You stared at her, trying to absorb her words. There's some wisdom in that. You're not the type to cry over a guy, not even for even Bucky Barnes. So you let Natasha drag you to the shower and asked Wanda to do your hair when she does your makeup. She chose an outfit for you, a dress that was not too sexy but chic enough to leave a good first impression.

Scott was early to the restaurant and he looked elated to see you. He was wearing a grey suit with no tie and he had a really exuberant smile on his face, the type that drew people easily. You could see why Natasha called him a nice guy.

"Wow, sorry, I just- didn't expect you to be this beautiful."

"Ah, thank you, Scott. Have you been waiting long?"

"No, not at all. I just arrived here like five minutes ago."

The night went on and Scott did most of the asking and talking, you answered each question curtly with forced enthusiasm in your face and body language. You weren't even listening to half of the things he said because your mind kept playing images of Bucky with Leah and how you heard from Sam that the date went well so he lost 300 bucks. You kept thinking about Bucky and Leah and how they would probably get married and have kids and live in the suburbs with a golden retriever while you'd still be single and you'd compare every man you meet to Bucky. Maybe it was your karma for not reciprocating his feelings in high school.

Five glasses of wine and you spent more time nodding than talking. Honestly, all you wanted to do was to just go home and go back to The Notebook because their love story was much better than your love life. Scott woke you out of your daze, "Natasha told you that I was cuter than this, did she?" after you gulped your sixth glass of wine.

"Oh Scott, I'm so sorry. It's not you, it's me. I know it sounds cliche but it's just... I'm not in a place where I'm looking for a boyfriend. You are a really likeable guy and I swear, if we had met at another time, maybe I would be a better date but right now, I just- I have someone else in my mind." You sighed, it felt like a relief to get that off your chest.

"Is this guy... an ex-boyfriend?"

You chuckled, "no... He wishes."

Scott nodded, "look, I don't know what your situation is but I've been through a divorce and it's never easy. But eventually, you'll be fine. You can't see it now because you haven't had closure." Then it was as if the bulb above your head was turned on.

"That's it.  Closure, yeah. That's all I need. Okay, give me a minute. I'm gonna call him now and I'm going to get my closure."

Scott sat there watching you comically trying to find your phone in your purse and tapped on Bucky's contact number. The normal you would be sweating with every ring but intoxicated you had no worries in the world... For now.

"This is Bucky. Can't pick up right now, leave a message." Beep.

"Hello, yes, Bucky! Or James, should I call you James? I always thought Bucky was a weird name. Anyways, I'm just calling to tell you that I am fine and I am on a date with Scott. And speaking of dates, I just gotta tell you that I'm happy to hear that your date went well. And that, my friend, means that I am over you. That's right, I'm over you. Tell Leah I say hi." You said sarcastically.

You hung up the phone and threw your phone back into your purse. You felt like you just won a chess game.

The next morning you decided to sleep in because your heart was pounding and you could barely sit up without feeling like you might fall. You were supposed to be working at the bakery but since you owned the bakery, Wanda let you sleep it off until you recover. You couldn't remember anything from last night, how you got back to your apartment was a mystery. You tried to put the pictures together, from being forced to go on a date, meeting a guy named Sean? Simon? Sebastian? Scott! Yes, Scott. You ordered your meals and then... Nothing, it was all blurry. You weren't even sure if anything happened at all after eating your meals.

The apartment was empty because Wanda was working at the bakery and it was just you with your hangover pills. Bucky came to your apartment without knocking because Wanda told him on the phone that you were home. He greeted you with a smile and asked about your date.

"Uh, let's see. I think there was a restaurant, I know there was wine. And there's a guy, Scott and pretty much that's all I can recall."

Bucky made a yikes face. Seeing the state you were in, he could do the math (of the wine you had). You probably enjoyed the alcohol more than the guy. What a doofus, he thought. If he was the one going on a date with you, you'd definitely remember every detail from last night.

"Leah's downstairs and I'm taking her back to her place but I left my keys here last night. Have you seen it?"

"No, check the drawers. Maybe Wanda put 'em there."

"Ah, okay." He opened the drawers and found the keys to his bike.

"Did we... Speak on the phone last night?"

"Nope, my phone was dead and I didn't charge it all night so I haven't really checked it. Why?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's just... Never mind. My memories are a bit hazy right now. You should go, say hi to Leah for me."

Bucky nodded as you walked back to your room to go lie down. Your question reminded him that he should probably check his phone now because there could be work-related messages but the first thing he heard was a voicemail from you. "Oh, y/n. I got your message!"

That instantly stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes went wide and you froze. You immediately turned around and ran to grab his phone away from him. Bucky had a confused look on his face, "who's Scott?"

"Oh my God, no, Bucky, give me the phone. Give me the phone!" But it was already too late, he was already halfway through your voicemail and by the time you successfully snatched his phone out of his grasp, he had already heard every word.

Bucky stood there dumbfounded, he needed time to process everything you just said to him. "What do you- what do you mean you're over me?"

"Oh, God... Alright, um- lately, I've um- sort of, have... Feelings for you." You never had to chase a guy or confess your crush first so this felt new and my God, it was nerve-racking.

"You have feelings for me..." He said it as if he was convincing himself that his ears got it right. Bucky couldn't believe the words that just escaped through your lips, for years he had dreamed of this moment. Though never did he ever want you to make the first move but adolescent him wanted to hear you say what he'd been wanting to say to you too.

He didn't say anything for what felt like minutes and you couldn't decipher his thoughts from the look on his face. "I need to sit down," he pulled one of the dining chairs and leaned on his side in a defeated posture.

"Bucky... Please say something." You alerted him in a hushed tone, not wanting to startle him than you already did. But he didn't. He was lost at words. What the hell was he supposed to tell her?

"Look Bucky, I'm sorry for telling you this way but I had to. I just- I've been wanting to talk to you about it since you came back to New York, well- actually, since Steve told me but-"

"Whoa, Steve told you?!" He interrupted.

"Yeah, it just accidentally slipped when we were playing truth or dare..."

"Okay well," he stood up from his seat, yet he still couldn't look you in the eye. "I can't do this right now, Leah's waiting for me downstairs and I gotta go." He basically ran out of the room and slammed the door behind him, leaving you alone.

Once your hangover had begun dissipating, you decided to help Wanda at the bakery and took the night shift. She must've been exhausted from managing the bakery alone while also helping the employees in the kitchen so you told her to go home and leave it to you. The bakery's usually slower at night.

When it was nearing closing time and your employees had gone home, you decided to clean up and turned off the lights and checked everything one last time before locking the door. The bell above the door dinged and you were slightly annoyed because who the hell comes to the bakery at this hour?

"I'm sorry we're clo...sed." It was Bucky. He stood there in a black coat, with an expression you still couldn't figure out. "Bucky, what are you-"

"You have no right to tell me that you've got feelings for me." His tone was harsh, he never spoke that way to you or anyone... Ever.

"What?"

He walked closer to you, maintaining his gaze, "You can not tell me that you've got feelings for me now when I'm doing well with my life and Leah..."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I was in love with you for years! Years, y/n! And you never said and did anything and now when everything's going well you're ruining it!"

"I am ruining it?" You repeated the question because you couldn't believe what you just heard. How dare he said those hurtful things to you.

"Yes! I was doing fine with Leah and now I don't know what's going to happen with me and her anymore..."

"Yeah, well, I was doing fine before I found out that YOU were in love with me and never had the balls to tell me!" You did everything you could to not cry, you hated crying in the middle of an argument.

"Hey, it's not like I didn't try. There were your ex-boyfriends and your dates and I had to move on. I couldn't wait forever! And now, now you're too late."

"Oh, so what? You're just gonna walk away and pretend that this never happened?"

"Yes, I'm going to do exactly that and I'm going to go see Leah." He turned around like he did earlier in your apartment and left you alone once again with your heartbreak.

"Fine! Go ahead and see Leah because I don't give a fuck about cowards like you or whoever you sleep with." You slammed the door and tried everything you could to not have a breakdown here because you really hated letting an argument hurt you. You sat on one of the chairs where the customers would sit and you hid your face with your hands and cried.

Not because you just lost an argument but because of what Bucky said and it felt like you had lost Bucky before you even had him. Now there was no hope left for you and Bucky, things were too complicated.

You didn't know how long you had cried there, alone, in the dimmed lighting of your shop but after you felt like the tears had dried, you wiped the traces of your tears from your cheeks with the back of your thumb. You stood from your seat and was ready to go home. You couldn't wait to eat some leftover pizzas, take a warm shower and cry into your pillows until you fall asleep.

But when you were about to leave, you saw Bucky standing on the other side of the door, watching you through the windows with a softer expression on his face. You opened the door and Bucky instantly grabbed your waist and kissed you as if his life depended on it.

You gave in to his kiss, letting him pour every desire and yearning into your lips for as long as he wanted. You grabbed his face because you wanted him impossibly closer and you shut your eyes, letting your guard down. Because it was Bucky, and you'd known him for as long as you could remember and you both deserved this moment.

Bucky eventually pulled away until both of you were running out of air. You were breathless from his kiss, you never knew he was such a good kisser. (It's Bucky and he's had a lot of women on his bed, of course, he was excellent at it. Who were you kidding?) But now that you've had your own front-row experience, you felt a tad of possessiveness at the thought of sharing those lips or any part of him with anyone else.

"I couldn't go back to her knowing you are here alone and I had thrown away what I've wanted for as long as I could remember."

"I'm glad you came back." You pressed your foreheads and you rested your hands on his chest. You could get used to this.

"I hope it's not too late to say this but, y/n y/l/n, will you let me take you to dinner and see a movie after maybe?"

"I wasn't the one who said it's too late," you halfheartedly teased him.

"Shut up, so is that a yes or a no?"

You bit your lip and nodded, "yes. Definitely a yes." You stared into his ocean blue eyes, so deep and beautiful, you could easily get lost in it.

"y/n y/ln, I'm going to put all of your ex-boyfriends to shame."

"Hm, we'll see about that." You put your arms around his neck. Then a thought crossed your mind and your smile faded away, "what are you gonna do about Leah though?"

"I'll talk to her in the morning. Let's take you home now, yeah? It's getting late."

You bit your lip and nodded, "okay."

Ninth grade you dreamed of popular jocks and athletic seniors, but little did you know that, sometimes, the one who sincerely loved you was the book nerd who loved The Hobbit a little too much.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes modern au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan fanfic #friends to lovers

[fueselwe]

I already said what I‘m doing

Human metabolism

After a sudden and unexpected acquaintance, the Quorn leaders are to meet with human ambassadors in the first in-person meeting to discuss first contact.

The meeting room was carefully prepared to be comfortable for Quorn, with the room temperature being exactly 10 quans, which is the optimal temperature for a Quorn.

The human ambassador and some guards enter, wearing formal clothing, looking stern and having what seemed to be a scientist with them. They sit down and try to initiate the conversation;

"So, we understand that we haven't met under the best of terms, but we want to assure you that we see this as a mistake and that we pursue only t-" the human suddenly stops, breathing in what could be only approximated as exhaustion, "I'm sorry. I know this is a formal meeting, but can I please take my jacket off?". The ambassador starts waving his hand into his direction.

The Qorn are confused at first, but politely answer "We- uhhh, don't mind". "Phew, thanks" says the human as he removes the upper part of his uniform, revealing a quite muscular upper body covered by a white tank top which looked weirdly damp. After that the other humans followed suit, only the scientist keeping their white coat.

"So with that out of the way," he continues, still waving his hand, "We assure you that we only wish for a peaceful coexistance, and that our first encounter was a misunderstanding. I want to personally apologise for any damage or injuries sustained", he said, now panting and fanning himself with the papers they brought.

The Quorn leaders were relieved to hear their commitment to non-aggression. They were about to start discussing the details when the human interrupted them again. "*Huff* I'm so sorry *huff*, but could you please *puff* turn down the heat in here? *pant*, Man, it's scorching in here... "

The Quorn leaders were stunted; "B- but we made sure that the room was in optimal condition, it's 10 quans, that should be perfect...", the human squints his eyes, "10 quans? How much is that?", he looks at the scientist, who looked like they were waiting for this. "So I've done a little research and measured some things and 10 quans is about 45°C".

The ambassador looks baffled. "Forty five?! that's- oh damn, is there a fan around here?", the scientist, who came prepared, takes one out of their case and puts it on the table. Switching it on caused the ambassador as well his guards to crowd around it, sighing in relief.

The Quorn ask, "May we ask about your need to cool yourself down? How did you survive like that? And why do you petrude this liquid from your bodies?". "It's a thing called sweating" says the ambassador, gesturing at the scientist again who, by now, has also taken off their coat and dropped the formal tone out of necessity.

"So... most life on our planet has a coat of fur on their skin to preserve warmth, but over time and through evolution humans lost that fur coat and gained access to sweat glands, which excrete liquid when the body heats up that allows for easier temperature exchange with it's surroundings, cooling the body down".

The Quorn leader only looks more baffled. "But why would you want to lose heat? It's precious and must be conserved, please elaborate". The scientist continues: "It's hard to explain without diving ludicrously deep into biology, but in short it's that human metabolism produces a lot of energy in the form of heat, to a point where it becomes uncormfortable"

The Quorn still asks, "But such a system would require hundreds of doons of food per day, are you saying that- oh god don't tell me...". The scientist preemptively whispers to the ambassador: "100 doons are less than a gram" and the ambassador starts laughing.

The Quorn leader has another question. "But with all that, why do you coat yourself in these uniforms, shouldn't those make it worse? I don't understand". "Me neither, bud" replies the ambassador, "but could you please turn down the heat? Here: I'll bring you the emergency thermal blankets from our ship"

The Quorn set the room temperature to 5 quans (approximatley 20 degrees celsius) and wait for the human, shivering until he tugs them into the blanket while precognitively answering the Quorn's next question: "And before you ask, it gets cold on our world, too... Huh, guess we're just from a more harsh planet..."

They finish the peace talks and end the meeting, with the Quorns shock having delevoped into wonder as they can't wait to further research the humans anatomy.

(For anyone wondering about how the human ambassador looks for some reason; just know I was picturing Scott Bacula (Captain Archer) while writing this)

Edit: Apparently I am a pansy, so I adjusted the temperatures

#humanity fuck yeah #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia

[spine-buster]

Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒

CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with cults, polygamous cults, escaping cults, strict adherence to religion, gender roles, abuse, miscarriage, and a character with a traumatic past. T͟h͟i͟s͟ ͟c͟h͟a͟p͟t͟e͟r͟ ͟s͟p͟e͟c͟i͟f͟i͟c͟a͟l͟l͟y͟ ͟h͟a͟s͟ ͟m͟e͟n͟t͟i͟o͟n͟s͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟d͟e͟a͟l͟s͟ ͟w͟i͟t͟h͟ ͟m͟i͟s͟c͟a͟r͟r͟i͟a͟g͟e͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟s͟e͟x͟u͟a͟l͟ ͟a͟s͟s͟a͟u͟l͟t͟.͟  Please be warned.

Word Count: 14,637

Please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page if you are able.  Link in my bio & Masterlist.

A/N:  “Courage” officially broke my record for most notes on a debut chapter, so thank you all so much for all your likes and reblogs!  This chapter is more serious in parts, but we get to see an evolving Effie and an evoling Effie/Matthew dynamic.  Enjoy!

                                                           *     *     *   �� *     *

Effie.  Her name was Effie.  And everybody knew it.  

Rachel was no more.  Rachel was a thing of the past and she was going to stay there.  Rachel was a person who had been hurt and abused.  Rachel was named by an abusive, violent, cruel, despicable tyrant who called himself Abraham and proclaimed he was a prophet.  Rachel was a girl with no voice, no agency, nothing to call her own.  Rachel was a girl who belonged to someone.

Effie was new.  Effie was her chosen name and a thing of the future.  Effie was a person learning to come to terms with her trauma after years of hurt and abuse.  Effie was name by herself, for herself, to reclaim her identity after years of it being denied to her.  Effie was a girl with a voice, agency, and even though she could only count a few things as her own, they were just that – her own.  Effie was a girl who belonged to nobody but herself.  

That was how she liked it.  

Naming herself instilled a new sense of confidence within her.  It was small, and it was gradual, but the people around her could notice it.  Matthew knew he could.  She was more assertive…in her own way.  She didn’t ask “Can I ask you a question?” before asking questions anymore.  She just asked.  She was proud of her learning and was getting used to showing it off.  Her independence increased.  She’d walk to Starbucks to get her strawberry frappucinos instead of having Jenna drive her.  She engaged in more conversation.  She made jokes.  She laughed at jokes.  She went grocery shopping with Jenna and said “I want to buy corn dogs” so she and Jenna bought corn dogs and they had them for dinner one night.  She went to Levi and said “I want to get a phone so I can text Annica” and so he gave her an old iPhone he had in the house.  She asked Annica more about makeup, even though she was still a bit apprehensive about using it.  She asked Geneviève about words she’d read and wanted to know more about.  Feminism (that was the best word she learned, Effie thought.  She was a feminist).  Socialism.  Communism.  Democracy.  Geneviève explained them all to her.  She asked Geneviève about pants.

She wore pants.

It was weird at first, wearing pants.  She’d only ever worn skirts and dresses, even in the privacy of her own home when she was in the cult.  The prophet demanded it; women were not allowed to wear pants.  So when Jenna encouraged her to try on an old pair of jeans that she had, Effie did.  They were big – Effie was still, well, small, and gaining weight every day – but Effie liked them.  “Can I buy a pair of jeans?” she asked Jenna.  Jenna promised to take her shopping at the mall on the weekend.  It would be Effie’s first time in a mall. 

Effie wanted to be fearless, but there was still a lot of fear in her.  Everything was so new, and so big, and sometimes so complicated, and she wished things were easier but she knew they couldn’t be.  But instead of before, when she would let the fear overcome her, she embraced it instead.  She worked through it.  She did things in spite of the fear.  She did things because she didn’t want the fear in her anymore.

That’s why she found herself walking now.  Walking to Starbucks.  Well, not to Starbucks exactly, but to the complex that held the Starbucks and a bunch of other stores.  Effie had noticed one particular one a few storefronts down and had taken mental note of it for when she was ready for it.  And now, walking with purpose through Aspen Woods, clutching something very important in the pocket of her jacket, she was ready.  

“Chop it all off.”

“What?!” the hairdresser shrieked as she looked at Effie through the mirror, after putting a robe around her and running her hands through her long blonde hair.  “But your hair!  It’s healthy and it’s long and luscious and—and it would be a disservice if I chopped it all off!”

“Please.  I need you to cut it.  I need you to—”

“This is the greatest head of hair I’ve ever seen—”

“You don’t understand,” Effie interrupted.  “I escaped a cult.  I escaped The People’s Dominion of Christ.  This hair was never mine; it was always someone else’s.  I need you to cut it off so that it’s mine, so that something on my body is mine for once in my life.”

The hairdresser looked at Effie through the mirror, blinking a few times as she realized what Effie was saying.  Without saying another word, she reached over to her station and grabbed her scissors.  “How much do you want off?” she asked.

Effie unfolded the picture from one of Jenna’s old magazines that she had crumpled in her hand, showing the stylist.  “Like this,” she said.  “I don’t even want it touching my shoulders.”

The hairdresser nodded, placing the picture face up at her station so Effie could look at it as the hairdresser did her magic.  She took one last look at it before tying an elastic loosely around the hair.  “Ready?” she asked, gripping it.

Effie nodded firmly.  “Ready.”

***

Effie had six numbers stored on her phone.  Levi.  Jenna.  Annica.  Geneviève.  Jacob Markstrom.  Matthew Tkachuk.  

“Hello?” he asked as he picked up his phone.  

His voice was a welcome sound to Effie, who was nervous but excited as she looked at herself in the mirror.  “Matthew?  I’m—I’m sorry to bother you, but can you come pick me up?”

“I—yeah—is everything okay?” his voice sounded immediately worried.  “Where are you?”

Effie didn’t even know.  She covered the receiver with her hand and turned towards the hairstylist.  “What’s the address?”

“225 Mercer Street, Unit 13.”

“225 Mercer Street, Unit 13,” she repeated into the phone.

Matthew was officially confused.  “The Starbucks complex?”

“Yes…but a few stores down,” Effie informed him.

“I’ll be there in like, five minutes.”

***

Matthew was nervous.  Effie hadn’t sounded nervous on the phone, but he was still nervous.  It was out of the ordinary for her to call him to pick her up from anywhere, let alone from a place where she knew how to get home from now that she took the initiative to walk most places she wanted to go.  It wasn’t like he was going to deny her – he was speeding through the streets, if he was being completely honest – but the thoughts in his mind were running a mile a minute, and he had no clue what to expect.  

When he pulled into the complex, he searched for unit 13 and parked right in front of it.  It was only when he turned off his car that he actually saw the name of the store he’d parked in front of.  Abigail’s Hair Salon.

Matthew walked in.

He stopped dead in his tracks.  In front of him, Effie stood sheepishly, her long, flowing blonde hair chopped off almost completely, and in its place, a chic blonde bob, perfectly styled and perfectly her.  She had a t-shirt, baggy skinny jeans, and old Doc Martens on – no doubt all borrowed from Jenna – and she looked like a vision.  He couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face.  “Effie,” he said her name bashfully, breathlessly, because it was so much to take in and she just looked so…cute.  

“Does it look nice?” she asked, patting it down at the sides.  

“It looks great, Effie,” Matthew said, and she could tell he meant it sincerely.  He bit his bottom lip before continuing his line of questioning, even though all he wanted to do was look at her.  “You wanted it this short?”

Effie nodded her head.  

“It suits you,” he nodded.  “Did you pay?”  Effie nodded her head.  “Did you tip?”

Effie looked scared for a moment.  “Tip?”

Matthew automatically took out his wallet and pulled a $50 from inside, giving it to the hairstylist.  He turned to Effie without another word.  “Wanna grab some lunch?”

“You—you’re not busy?  I thought you would just drive me home.”

“Let’s grab lunch,” he said casually, like it was no big deal.  “Grab your jacket.  What do you feel like eating?”

***

Matthew watched Effie for most of the meal, if he was being honest.  He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her regardless of how hard he tried.  But he kept any emotions or any feelings at bay, kicking himself for anything he was feeling that was…questionable.  He didn’t want to be that guy.  He didn’t want to make things more complicated for her when she was already learning so much, when the world was already a complicated place for her and she was trying to find her place in it.  

“What team does your brother play for?” Effie asked, picking at her plate left with all her fries.  She ate her bacon cheeseburger first and devoured it in less than ten minutes.  For Matthew, it was impressive.  He knew she was trying to gain weight.  He shuddered to think what she looked like a year ago.  

“The Ottawa Senators,” he replied.

“In the capital city,” she said, and Matthew nodded his head.  “You must be very thankful that he’s in Canada with you.  What about your sister?”

“She plays field hockey at the University of Virginia.”

Matthew watched as Effie furrowed her brows.  “She can play sports and go to university?  That’s a thing?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Matthew smiled, chuckling slightly.  “She’s a great field hockey player.  She committed to the school when she was a junior – when she was sixteen – and now she’s finally on campus.  She’s going to school too, obviously.  That’s the most important thing.  But she’s also playing Division 1 field hockey.”

Effie nodded her head, considering all the things Matthew had just said.  Women could go to university – she knew that now thanks to Jenna and Geneviève.  But…women could play sports and go to university?  Women could play sports for their university?  That was new information.  Effie thought about girls playing hockey and whether or not they could do the same thing.  She thought to Levi watching Toronto Raptors games at home and wondering if women could do the same thing with basketball.  She had not been allowed to play sports.  Anything more than running, women were not allowed to do.  Taryn had been sixteen and had committed to play field hockey for a university.  When Effie was sixteen, she was definitely not doing that.  “Your sister is very lucky,” she said softly.  “To be able to do that.  She’s very lucky.”

Matthew knew there was weight behind those words.  They weren’t to be taken lightly.  He could only imagine what Effie was up to when she was sixteen years old as opposed to Taryn.  “She knows,” Matthew said.  “Taryn’s a really smart girl.  She knows she’s really lucky.”

“It’s kind of nice how in the normal world, women can go to university, and get an education, and play sports, and do whatever they want, and wait to have their children,” Effie said.

Matthew shrugged.  “If they even want kids at all.  I know some of my friends back home don’t want them.  Nobody says women have to have them,” he said it like a throwaway comment, looking down at his plate to grab a fry and dip it in some ketchup.

Silence.  Pure silence from Effie.  He stuck his fry in his mouth and noticed how quiet it got and he looked up with half the fry in his mouth and half the fry still between his fingers, like a dumbass, only to see Effie staring at him with a blank look on her face.  When he looked closer, he saw her eyes were glossy.  He gulped.  “Wh…What do you mean that women don’t have to have children?” she asked.

Matthew chose his words carefully.  He should have known.  He should have fucking known, but he just had to go open his big mouth.  Now, he realized the words he was about to say would change Effie’s perception of things dramatically.  The last thing he intended was for the conversation to swerve in a direction like this, but they were here now, and he had to live with it.  Own up to his actions.  Be the person he promised himself he would be around her.  “So, like…women in modern society have the choice.  They can choose not to have children.  Some women don’t want to become mothers.  It’s a personal choice.  And nowadays, women don’t feel as pressured to have families.  Like, maybe they want to pursue a career instead, but it’s not even that.  You can just…not want children.”

Effie had heard the word of God her entire life.  It was the first thing she remembered; it was her earliest memory.  Some days – on bad days – it was her only memory, the thing that haunted her most at night, and she’d toss and turn in her bed to try and get the rolls and rolls of scripture out of her head.  Be fruitful and multiply.  Be fruitful and multiply.  Be fruitful and multiply.  But this – what Matthew was telling her – this was not the word of God.  This was something else.  This went against everything she knew.  This went against everything she was brought up to believe.  “Oh, okay,” she whispered.  

Matthew could tell he had just said something to Effie that rocked her foundation.  And then he thought to himself ‘Of course this would be happening.  Everything is new for her.’   The modern world was completely alien to her.  She didn’t know anything.  No women’s liberation.  No women’s rights.  No individuality.  Voting.  Elections.  Doctors.  Hospitals.  Jeans.  T-shirts.  Wearing her hair however she wanted.  Makeup.  Cell phones.  Instagram.  Twitter.  Snapchat.  Hockey – literally the most unimportant thing at this point.  She was learning, and making great progress, but things like this – these big ideas – still shook her to her core.  They went against everything she knew and everything she was brought up to believe.  It wasn’t easy for any person to have their foundation cracked; Matthew knew it would be even harder for her.

“Can you excuse me for a second?” Effie said suddenly, not bothering to hear an answer from Matthew before she pushed her chair back and stood up from the table, escaping back into the restaurant.  

Matthew felt like there was cement in his feet as he replayed the moment over and over in his mind, the sight of Effie’s glossy eyes realizing children were optional in the real world burning itself into his mind forever.  God, to find out this way – over bacon cheeseburgers at some restaurant and not in a safe space where she felt comfortable.  To have it be him, a man, that told her this instead of someone like Jenna, or Geneviève, who had been teaching her everything.  He was an idiot.  He was such an idiot.

A jolt of electricity struck through his body and finally jolted him out of his seat, his legs making him run towards the back of the restaurant near the washrooms where he knew Effie went.  “Effie?  Effie?” he called out as he opened the door to the women’s washroom.

When he stepped inside, he saw Effie huddled in a heap on the floor, her knees to her chest as tears flowed down her face.  Her skin was red and blotchy and he could see her chest heaving up and down.  “Effie—” he bent down to be at eye level with her.

“I need you to take me home.”

“Effie—” he reached out to touch her.

The second – the millisecond, the nanosecond – that Effie felt his touch for the first time, her entire body flinched so violently away from him that it scared him.  Matthew recoiled his hand quickly as his breath caught in his throat.  “I’m sorry—I’msosorry—I’m so sorry—” he stuttered out.  

She was silent as she looked at him for a moment through her tears.  There was a look of pure fear in her eyes that Matthew hadn’t seen before, not even the first time he met her at Noah’s birthday at the steakhouse.  “What if women can’t have children?” she asked, her voice so small and frail that it broke Matthew’s heart.

He struggled to find the words because it was such a simple concept for him but such a complicated one for her.  “That’s…that’s not their fault,” he said calmly, but the tone of obviousness was still apparent.  

“What do you mean it’s not their fault?” Effie’s tone was incredulous, like a seven-year-old child learning prematurely that there was no Santa Claus.

“It’s not their fault, Effie,” he reiterated, not knowing how else to explain it.  “I…it’s not their fault.  It can be a medical thing.  I mean most of the time it is, if they can’t have children.  And it’s not their fault,” he just kept repeating it.

“What if…what if women don’t want to have children, but can?  Are…are they punished?” she asked.

“Why would they be punished?  No,” he shook his head.

“Matthew…” she was apprehensive.  “Are you telling the truth?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you Effie,” he said softly, wanting so desperately to just reach out and touch her, hug her, but knowing that if he did, he’d just inflict more fear in her.  “I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s the truth.  Some women can’t have children, and some of them don’t want children, and both of those things are perfectly okay.”  He watched as the tears streamed down her face as she stared him in the eye.  Shaking.  

Then it finally hit him like a ton of bricks.  

“Effie…” he said uneasily.

“There were seven.”

The words hung in the air for an unknown amount of time.  It could have been years for all Matthew knew.  But as he stared into Effie’s eyes, he felt an incredible pain in his heart; a pain reserved only for her, that only she could give him.  He thought of how she kept all her own pain inside her constantly, how the trauma was a part of her just as her hair, her fingers, her toes were.  She carried this with her every single day.  Every.  Single.  Day.

“It’s not your fault, Effie,” he whispered.  He knew better than to try to reach out and touch her again.  So he settled on words, because words were his best option.  “It’s not your fault.”

***

“Did you really think you’d be able to come to a therapist’s office and think you’d be able to discuss a patient?”

Matthew stared at Dr. Jessica Barlow sitting across from him – her seated on her plush chair, him sitting on the couch he was sure all her patients sat on – and he didn’t really appreciate her tone of voice.  So maybe it wasn’t the most flawless plan.  Maybe there were holes.  But he was there, damnit, and there for a good reason.  The best reason.  She was the best psychotherapist that specialized in cults in Alberta – probably in western Canada, judging by how many degrees and certificates and awards she had displayed in her office.  She was the best and most qualified person to help Effie, surely, which is why Effie met with her three times a week.  That meant she was also the best and most qualified person to help Matthew.

“Maybe,” he mumbled out.  Matthew would have been intimidated, but for some reason, he wasn’t.  Even considering they were alone in her office, even considering he’d never met or been to a therapist before, he wasn’t nervous or intimidated.  He was determined.  “I need you tell me what I need to do.  Tell me.  Tell me and I’ll do it.”

“For who?”

“Effie Schaffer.”

Dr. Barlow looked incredulous, like a mix between seeing a ghost and not believing the words that were coming out of Matthew’s mouth.  But then he watched as her face softened slightly, and turn inquisitive instead of suspicious.  “You’re Matthew,” she said, framing it as a statement more than a question.

He knew what that meant.  “Effie’s told you about me?” he asked.

It was a lost cause – he knew that the second the question left his lips, because he knew Dr. Barlow wouldn’t tell him a word.  Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that.  If dentists couldn’t even talk about their patients, there was no way in hell a psychotherapist who worked with cult survivors would say a peep about anything.  “Effie’s opened up to you quite a bit, hasn’t she?”

Matthew leaned in.  “Yes.  That’s why I need you to help me.  I want – I need to know how to help her.”

“Matthew,” Dr. Barlow took off her glasses.  “First you need to tell me why you want to do this,” she said matter-of-factly.  

Matthew didn’t want this to become a session.  It wasn’t about him; it was about Effie.  “I’ve just become her friend, and I’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately, and—and I just want to know what I can do to help her get even better.”

“Because you’re her friend.”

“Yes.”

“Because you care about her.”

“Well, yes.  I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about her in any capacity.”

Dr. Barlow paused.  “It’s not that simple, Mr. Tkachuk—”

“Why not?” he asked, interrupting her.  “She’s leaps and bounds better than when she escaped!  At least according to her brother!” he defended himself.  “Listen, I know it hasn’t been a long time that I’ve known her but I – damnit, I can help her.  I can help her but I don’t want to hurt her – I never want that to happen ever again, even if it’s by accident, and you need to tell me.  You need to tell me how I can do that so I can actually do it.”

Dr. Barlow stayed silent.  “You’ve already been incredibly patient with her,” she chose her words wisely.  Matthew could read between the lines.  So maybe Effie spoke about him more than he initially thought.  “We should just leave it at that.  I appreciate the effort, but—"

“She told me how there were seven,” he said, his voice steady and calm but firm and resolute.  When he looked up at Dr. Barlow, she was staring back at him with a stoic yet shocked look on her face.  “She told me there were seven, and when I tried to—to console her, to touch her, the way her body jumped away from mine…I…” he trailed off.  He rubbed his fingers against his lips nervously.

“So then you know and realize that Effie was a member of a religious cult where she was routinely raped by its leader so he could impregnate her with the son of God for almost five years.”

It was the first time the word had been said out loud.  He didn’t want to repeat it.  He wanted it burned from his memory, from Effie’s memory, from the dictionary, everywhere.  He knew it happened but he didn’t want to admit it to himself.  Saying the word out loud made it different; it made it real.  It made him acutely aware of the trauma Effie had been through, and how she didn’t deserve any of it, yet she was burdened with it for the rest of her life.  He was biting down on his bottom lip so hard he thought he’d draw blood.  “Yes,” he said curtly.  “I realize.”

“I know how close – relatively – you and Effie have gotten ever since you were introduced.  Her progress has increased dramatically since it,” Dr. Barlow began, again choosing her words wisely.  “I know everything you two talk about on your Starbucks dates.  I know you introduced her to candy and watched Little Women with her.  Matthew – I’m not telling you this because I’m making some point that Effie tattles and tells me everything about her relationship with you.  I’m telling you this because you’ve already been doing what you need to do.  You didn’t need to come here and ask me for specifics.”

“But I don’t want to hurt her,” Matthew said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “What happened that day when she told me and when—when I tried to touch her…”

“It might take a while for her body not to seize up anytime a man touches her,” Dr. Barlow said.  “That doesn’t mean she’s not making progress.  It’s the mental progress we want to see.  And it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong, either.  Just give her time, Matthew.  Exercise patience with her.”

***

The next time Matthew saw Effie, she didn’t know he was coming.  But he called Levi and made sure it was okay, and so when he descended down the stairs into the basement and saw Effie’s bedroom door opened, he took a deep breath.  He collected himself.  And he moved forward.  He knew he didn’t have to do this – any outsider would have said that – but he knew he needed to do it.  He needed to make it right.

“Effie?” he knocked lightly on her door before stepping into the door frame, finding her sitting at her desk reading something.  

She turned her head to look at him and a smile appeared on her face.  It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders to see her smiling.  He didn’t exactly think she’d be cradled in a corner crying, but he did think that maybe she wouldn’t be happy to see him.  It was a relief.  “Hi Matthew.”

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Of course,” she nodded, pushing her desk chair out as he walked in slowly.  “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been okay…” he said, biting down on his bottom lip nervously.  “How—I mean, have you been okay since that day?”

He saw something flash behind her eyes – a memory of the tears, the feeling, the questions.  He knew he relived it every other minute since it happened because he felt so guilty about it.  He wondered if Effie relived it every moment too and whether or not it brought her constant pain.  Matthew would never forgive himself if it did.  “I’ve been good.  Learned a lot, as you can imagine,” she joked slightly.  “I read up on what we talked about.  Geneviève helped me.”

“So you know it’s a thing now.”

Effie nodded.  “It made me realize I never want children.”

Matthew should have been shocked by that statement, but he wasn’t.  Knowing what Effie had been through, he understood why she wouldn’t want them.  It was her choice to make and hers only, and nobody could or should influence her otherwise.  “That’s good.  Good that you can…you know, say that out loud.  That you’re not forced into something you don’t want anymore.”

Effie nodded her head.  “I knew it all along.  I mean, children are a blessing, but they’re not for me.  And knowing the way I was brought up, with abuse and no loving parenting from my parents or from anyone around me, I don’t want to pass that legacy on.  I’m too scared to fall back into that.  I’d have no idea how to raise a child.  I know that now,” she said, watching as Matthew walked further into the room and lean back slightly on her desk.  She looked up at him.  There was a moment of silence between them as they were just there, staring at each other in her bedroom.  Effie tried not to get lost in his blue eyes.  She wondered if he could see past her calm exterior.  “I’m sorry that I flinched away from you that day,” she said quietly.  

“I should be the one apologizing—”

“No,” she said as sternly as she could, getting him to stop.  “You don’t have to apologize for anything.  You didn’t hurt me that day, so don’t think you did.  I just…I get apprehensive about touch, because we weren’t allowed to, and because once I finally was, it wasn’t…nice,” she revealed, knowing he’d get the point.  “But I know that your touch is nice.”

“How do you know?” Matthew asked.

“Because you’re a nice person.”

She took it upon herself to look at his hands.  They were on either side of his body, gripping her desk just in case it collapsed under his weight or something – who knows.  But they were there, exposed, for her to look at.  They were big – bigger than Abraham’s – and younger, of course, rougher around the edges due to hockey but still better than the only other pair of hands she’d had experience with.

He caught her looking.  Slowly, almost painstakingly slowly, he brought his right hand up and opened it, palm facing her, fingers pointing up towards the sky.  He watched as Effie brought her hand up too, even slower than he had, opening it up and facing her palm towards his.  There were a few moments where she was stagnant, thinking about how this was the first time she was going to touch a man other than her predator fake husband or her brother.  Then she moved her hand closer.  Closer.  Closer.

When she finally touched Matthew – when she finally touched him – a million electric bolts ran through her body.  The feeling of his skin on hers, his delicate yet rough touch as she pressed her small hand into his large one so she could feel his entire hand on her hand – it was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.  The simplest action gave her the most surreal feeling.  There were no words for it.  No words, in fact, because all she could do was smile.  A big, wide smile, spanning from ear to ear as she kept her hand against his.

Matthew smiled too.  

***

“This was a very quick progression from ‘Can women get tattoos?’ to ‘I’m getting a tattoo’, you know,” Geneviève laughed as she and Annica watched Effie take a seat in the tattooist’s chair.  The tattoo artist, a young woman with sleeves of her own, was preparing everything appropriately as the women chatted.  “The turnover rate was, what, a week?”

“Less,” Annica giggled.  

“When I went to the orthodontist’s when I was ten, I saw a man there with his entire arm covered in tattoos.  I was so scared I started crying.  I asked the prophet about it when I got back to Sheerness and he said they were marks of sinners and that the devil influenced them,” Effie laughed along with them.  “But I see them on people at Starbucks all the time.  I think they look really nice.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you want what you’ve requested?  You’re not gonna regret it, right?” Annica wanted to make sure Effie was making the right decision.

Effie nodded her head emphatically.  “Definitely.  Definitely.”

“What is it?  Can we see it?” Geneviève asked.  

Effie shook her head.  “I want it to be a surprise,” she said, biting her lip.  “You guys don’t think I’m crazy, do you?  Doing this to my body?”

“Absolutely not,” Geneviève replied automatically, her tone telling Effie that the notion was absurd.  It was nice for Effie to know that the two women in front of her would never judge her.  It was nice to know a woman could be supported in her decisions, and not be told it would make God angry and that she was sinning and going against the prophet.  “It’s your body, remember?  Your body, your choice.”

Effie nodded after a moment.  “My body, my choice.”

***

“It’s still a bit red and itchy.  Annica said I need to put an elastic around my wrist and snap it whenever I want to itch it,” Effie said, her voice filled with excitement but a certain anxiousness that was characteristic to her.  

“It’s alright.  Just show me,” Matthew smiled as he watched her roll up the sleeve of her cardigan.  When she finally did, and stretched out her arm, Matthew’s mouth gaped open.  “It’s huge!” he exclaimed, definitely not expecting it to be that big.  He thought Effie would get a dainty tattoo; something small.  He didn’t exactly think she’d have a “go big or go home” attitude about a tattoo – something on her body forever.  But it was big.  It took up at least two-thirds of her forearm.  The linework and shading were impeccable; the detail exquisite.  It was made up of flowers – he didn’t know what kind – but they were big and small, all sizes really, and there were a few leaves, a few stems, and it just looked so beautiful.  He brought his hand up to touch, but stopped himself.  “Can I?” he asked.

Effie nodded.  “You can touch me,” she said, preparing herself.

Matthew brought his hand up slowly.  He touched her arm, grazing his fingertips over the linework delicately.  It was still bumpy, a testament to how new it was.  “It looks amazing, Effie,” he whispered, his fingers still grazing delicately.  

“You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”

“The best part?” he arched his eyebrow.  What could be better than this?

She turned her arm over, palm facing up, where another large flower was tattooed on her skin.  Matthew noticed some handwriting along the flower, and he leaned his head down to read it.  ‘I am mine before I am anyone else’s’.

Matthew smiled from ear to ear.  “Effie,” he whispered bashfully, just like he had when he saw that she cut her hair short for the first time.  He was so bashful because he was so happy to be seeing her making her own decisions for once in her life.  “Do you love it?” he asked.

She nodded enthusiastically.  “I love it so much.  It’s mine.  It’s mine.”

***

“Did Jenna make these?” Matthew asked Levi once he was done with his stretches, noticing a giant Tupperware filled with some sort of cookies.  Matthew had seen some of the other guys in the locker room with them and decided to investigate.  He took a massive bite of one and his entire mouth watered.  In that short moment, he was sure he’d never had a cookie so good in his life.  “These are phenomenal,” he said with a full mouth.

“Nah, Jenna’s not a baker,” Levi shook his head.  “Effie made those.”

Matthew’s brows rose.  He gulped the bite of the cookie down.  “Effie?  Effie bakes?”

Levi smirked, side-eyeing him.  “Effie knows how to make and churn butter from scratch.  She had to learn in the cult.  She knows how to bake and cook a lot of things because she had to be a traditional wife.  But she enjoys baking the most.  Baking is what brings her the most joy, so she’s started baking again.”

Matthew nodded nonchalantly.  “She can bake all kinds of stuff then?”

“Bread, sweet stuff…yeah, pretty much,” he said.  “She actually…well, she’s trying to find a job where she can put it to good use, since she actually likes doing it.”

“Effie’s getting a job?!” Matthew exclaimed, louder than he intended.  Levi could only chuckle.  Matthew felt the need to cover.  “Where?  What—where?  What’s she gonna do?  How is she—I mean, why?”

“She’s gotta support herself, doesn’t she?  If she wants to move out, or earn her own money—”

“Effie’s moving out?!”

“She’s not moving out tomorrow, Matthew, but she’s going to be moving out soon.”

This was all news to Matthew, of course.  He tried to play it cool, calming himself down and not making a big deal out of it – well, more than he already had.  The fact that Levi, Jenna, and Effie were discussing jobs and moving out had absolutely nothing to do with him.  He was just on the outside.  He didn’t need to be part of the decision making at all…at all.  But he still got nervous.  Effie was still learning about a lot.  And ultimately, at the end of the day, he wanted her to be safe.  A safe job.  A safe apartment.  “Where’s she looking?”

“There’s a cute little hipster coffee shop in the downtown core she has an interview with,” Levi informed him.  “If she gets the job, and if she enrols in the online business certificate program Geneviève recommended to her, I promised to pay three months worth of rent until she can pay it on her own.  She’d earn enough from minimum wage and tips for sure, especially downtown.”

Hipster coffee shop.  Online business certificate.  New apartment.  There was so much new information coming at Matthew that he didn’t know how to process it all.  He was happy for Effie – he was – and he wished her only the best, but it was still a lot.  “Well…when you need help moving, call me and we could put these muscles to work,” he said, flexing his arm for dramatic effect, trying to hide the fact that he so obviously cared, and miserably failing to hide that fact to Levi.

Levi let out a haughty laugh.  “I’ll be sure to mention it.”

***

Matthew downed a shot of tequila – the good tequila – and smashed his shot glass down on the bar as the smooth liquid coated his throat and made his stomach burn.  Noah let out a loud ‘Wooooo!’ and Sean, ever the dumbass, choked on it as it went down.  Matthew almost spit up the shot out of laughter watching Sean struggle to swallow it, picking up his glass of whisky the bartender had just poured.  “You’re already wrecked, buddy,” Matthew chastised him as he got control of his coughs.  “You’re embarrassing.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sean sneered.  “We all know you’re trying to get all your alcohol in before Effie gets here.”

Matthew chuckled.  “Fat chance of that happening.  Effie’s not coming.”

Sean rolled his eyes.  “Well, either I’m high or you’re wrong, because she just walked in the door.”

Matthew’s back stiffened as he whipped his head around to look through the crowd of people.  Sure enough, he could see Effie raising her hand to chest level so the bouncer at the door could stamp her hand.  Noah made a noise that sounded like a seagull and Sean let out a chuckle and a muffled “Dude owes me a fucking drink for that one”.  Before Matthew’s legs could move him forward, he noticed Meredith approach Effie; she hugged her and Effie allowed Meredith to grab her hand so she could guide her through the crowd and into their spot at the back of the lounge.  The music was loud and the floor felt like it was vibrating but it was nothing compared to the beat of Matthew’s heart.

Fuck.

When Meredith and Effie finally made their way through, he saw that Effie was wearing Jenna’s ballet flats, skinny jeans that were still a bit big, and a sequined top that fit so big any other girls in the club would have probably worn it as a dress.  He could feel the whisky burning his stomach and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

“Effiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!!!!!” Claudia squealed once she noticed her, sauntering over to her in her high heels and bending down to hug her.  “You made it!  I’m sooooo happy!” she continued squealing.  Matthew wondered if Effie noticed that Claudia was already drunk.  “Is this your first time in a place like this?”

“Yeah,” Effie nodded her head nervously.  “I’m sorry—I—I know I wasn’t supposed to be here and I said no, but—”

“Are you kidding?  The more the merrier!  Let me take you to Andrew so you can say happy birthday!”

Matthew watched as Claudia led her to Andrew, tapping him on the shoulder to reveal Effie.  Andrew was happy to see her, and – knowing better than to go in for a hug – politely held his hand against his heart when she wished him a happy birthday.  None of the guys on the team had ever touched her – well, except Matthew.  He seemed to be the exception to a lot of things regarding Effie, and he was proud of that.  He didn’t want anyone else touching her, even if they were his teammates.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

“You came alone?” Andrew asked her.  Effie nodded.  “We’ll have to find you Matthew then.  He’d kill us if we didn’t tell him you were here.”

Matthew didn’t know what Andrew was saying – the music was too loud, and he couldn’t read lips – but the cement in his legs finally dissolved and he found himself walking over to them, wanting to make his presence known at that very moment.  When Effie saw him, he could swear her face lit up.  “Fancy seeing you here, Effie,” he smiled, holding his glass of whisky near his chest.

She went in for a hug.

Matthew was so shocked he almost didn’t hug her back.  Even Andrew was looking at them like he’d just seen a monkey perform a magic trick.  Matthew draped both arms around her and hugged her back, making sure not to spill his whisky all over her.  He tried not to let it seem like he was shocked – hugs should be a normal thing for Effie, he thought – so when she pulled away, he was already smiling down at her.  “What brought you here?”

“I wanted to see what these places are like,” she said when she pulled away.  She took a look down at his drink.  “Is that iced tea?”

“Whiskey.”

She looked around at everyone else, noticing they were all holding glasses with drinks in them too.  “Is everybody drinking alcohol?”

“Pretty much,” Matthew giggled out.

“I’ve never drunk alcohol before,” she revealed.

“Do you want to try some?”

“No,” she shook her head.  “I’m not ready.”

“That’s okay.  Do you want something to drink, then?  Some water?  I’m sure the bar can make you a virgin drink if you ask for it.”

“A virgin drink?”

“Virgin means no alcohol,” Matthew covered quickly.  “They’ll make you whatever you want.”

Matthew watched as Effie considered it, looking over to the bar before she shook her head.  “I’m not thirsty yet.  I’ll go when I’m thirsty.”

***

Effie didn’t dance.  She didn’t drink.  All she did was look.

By looking, she was learning.  She watched how people interacted with one another in this type of setting and she internalized it.  She watched girls approach the bar and get served by the bartender.  She watched as guys flirted with them and bought them drinks.  She watched people take shots and then ask for another.  She watched people get handsy, with touches on hips and lower backs and arms the most popular spots she saw men putting their hands on women.  She watched people drag one another towards the dance floor.  She watched kisses being placed on necks and shoulders and lips, tongues dragging across, shocked that people would be doing so out in the open.  She watched girls raise their drinks in the air and kick their leg up as they posed for photos with their friends.  She watched girls move their hips seductively.  She watched guys getting their bodies as close to them as possible.  

“What are they doing?” she asked Matthew as she watched them dancing like a hawk.

“Uh…it’s called grinding.”

She’d talk, and ask questions, and Matthew was beside her the entire time answering her questions and milking his whisky, not caring that he wasn’t partying with Andrew or with the other boys, because when Effie was around, he was all about Effie – nobody else mattered.  He’d stay with her until last call if she wanted to stay that late.  He’d already resolved that he’d be going home when she was going home because he needed to make sure she got back to Aspen Woods safe, and also because there was no reason to be at the club when Effie was gone.

Did he hear himself?  Did he really just say there was no reason to be at a club full of beautiful girls during his friend’s birthday?

Fuck.  

Noah, Sean, and Johnny ended up coming back to the booth for some water.  Johnny made eyes at Matthew and Matthew subtly gave him the finger; Effie didn’t notice because she was looking over at the bar.  “I’m thirsty.  I’m going to go get a drink.”

“Let me go for y—”

“No,” she said sternly as Matthew was about to get up, standing up herself and holding her hand out.  “I’ve watched.  I know what I need to do.  I can go.”

Matthew gulped.  He didn’t want to deny her independence but he didn’t want her to go alone. “Are you sure?” he asked.  She nodded, and Matthew had to let her go.  And all he did was look.

***

Effie approached the bar slowly, trying not to get shoved around by people crowding around the bar.  It was much busier actually being in the crowd than just looking at it, and Effie was almost regretting her decision.  She’s never been in a place with so many people.  Well, that was a lie, maybe – church was always busy, obviously, especially the church for the People’s Dominion.  Sundays were the worst.  But there were definitely not this many young people congregated in one place.  Effie knew this is what young people did in the normal world – Geneviève told her so.  It was one thing to know about it, to be apart from it in a different area and watch; it was something completely different, actually being in it.  

She made her way to right behind a few people at the bar – some scantily clad girls with some really pretty dresses on.  Effie admired their beauty.  They had beautiful long eyelashes and their lips were red and berry-coloured.  Their skin was flawless and tanned – weird for April in Calgary, but tanned nonetheless.  Effie wondered if they were wearing makeup, and wondered whether or not she’d ever wear makeup herself.  When they got their drinks, they began to move.  One of them noticed Effie behind them and gave her a quick up-down.  “Take our place, sweetie,” she said, letting Effie move into their place before she watched them make their way through the crowd and back onto the dance floor.

After watching, she knew now she had to get the attention of one of the bartenders.  Every single one of them was busy pouring drinks.  She watched as a couple of men on the opposite end of the bar raised their hands and the bartenders went over to them, so she decided to do the same.  After a few minutes, a bartender came.  “What can I get you?”

“Um, water please.”

“You driving tonight, darling?”

Effie shook her head.  “I don’t drive.  I just don’t drink alcohol.”

“Do you want anything more exciting?  I mean I can at least get you ginger ale or a coke.”

Effie didn’t like coke – she thought it was too sweet – but when he mentioned ginger ale, she reconsidered.  “Okay.  Ginger ale is good.”

The bartender nodded, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice before getting the drink gun.  “Do you have a tab going?”

What was a tab?  Effie shook her head.  “What’s a tab?”

The bartender looked at her skeptically.  “How are you paying, darling?  Are you with a party?”

“Oh!  I’m here for Andrew’s party!  Andrew Mangiapane.”

“Got it,” the bartender winked.  “Here you go, darling.  Enjoy.”

Effie grabbed the drink and took a sip out of the straw.  It was nice and cold, just the way she liked it.  Just as she was about to leave and go back to Matthew, a big body slipped into the empty space beside her.  A man – a very large man, it seemed, though she was so small that every man looked large to her – took up all the space.  He was looking down at her with a very, very amused expression on his face.  “Ginger ale, girl?” he mocked her.

Effie couldn’t tell.  “What’s wrong with ginger ale?”

“You’re gonna come out to a bar looking like a walking felon and order ginger ale?” he pressed, winking at her.

“A walking felon?” she repeating.  She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said.  “A real drink.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Wanna start?”

“No,” she said firmly.

“That’s fine.  I can think of better things we can get up to than drinking, anyways,” he smiled.

Effie furrowed her brows.  “Like what?”

The guy smiled, and it was creepy, and she finally saw behind his eyes every thought and every intention he currently had.  “Let me show you,” he said, and Effie saw, out of the corner of her eye, that he was bringing his hand up to touch her.  At the same time, he was leaning his head down.

“HEY!” a loud voice boomed, and Effie immediately recognized it as Matthew’s.  Before she could even see him or realize where he was coming from, he squeezed his way in between him and the man.  Matthew’s hands were now on her body instead, the man’s hand nowhere near her.  “Get the fuck out of here, buddy.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“You touch her one more time and you’re fucking dead,” Matthew growled.

“Dead, eh?  So you get to touch her but I don’t?”

“Fuck off.”

Effie was taken aback by the anger in Matthew’s voice.  She’d never seen or heard him so angry.  She knew he was capable of it, by how he played hockey, but she didn’t think he’d be able to get this angry in a social setting.  Her body tensed up.  “Can we go back to our booth?” Effie asked loudly, placing her hand on Matthew’s, hoping to get his attention.  

Matthew looked back at her quickly, and when he saw the trepidation on her face, he immediately listened to her.  As he turned to leave, pushing Effie ahead of him with his hands still on her waist guiding her, he heard the man make one last call out to Effie.  “You don’t want to have some fun, girl?  I can show you a better time than this dick with my dick!”

Matthew had had it.  He knew he couldn’t punch out a guy in a bar.  He knew he couldn’t do much without causing a scene and the cops getting called and everything getting out of hand.  So instead, he used everything at his disposal to make his point, the most important thing being his size.  He turned around and flexed, standing up straight and making himself as physically big as possible, bumping up against the guy on the chest and backing him up against the bar.  He had only a few inches on the guy, but he was suddenly intimidated.  “You even so much as breathe in her general direction and I won’t hesitate to knock your teeth down your throat,” Matthew growled, making fists with his hands.  He didn’t even wait for the guy to say anything.  Instead, he just turned and walked away, noticing Effie waiting for him in the crowd.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“It’s fine,” he said curtly, leading her out of the crowd and back to the booth.

“Are you sure, Matthew?”

“Positive,” he mumbled as they finally got to the booth.

Effie turned around to get a good look at him.  She knew he was lying because she could see how angry he was on his face.  She got nervous – really nervous.  “Matthew—”

“Did he touch you?  He didn’t touch you, did he?” Matthew demanded.  He needed the answer to be no so he could calm down.  

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

Everything in Matthew suddenly cleared.  All he saw – all he was able to see – was Effie’s face, and how nervous she was, and how she was looking up at him with a certain tenseness.  “Effie—no—I could never be mad at you.  I’m mad at that guy for being gross.”

He noticed Effie furrow her brows slightly.  “Was he trying to get me to have sex with him?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know what he wanted.  But he was being gross and the second I saw him wedge his way into the bar I got up.”

Effie nodded.  “But you’re not mad at me, are you?” she asked again.

“Never, Effie.  Never.”

***

Annica had never been more flabbergasted or without words than when Effie asked her to explain what Instagram was.  Geneviève had to step in, giggling as she mixed together the baked feta pasta the girls were having for lunch.  “It’s supposed to be a platform for sharing pictures,” Geneviève explained.  “You know, like the book you’re reading, or where you’re going, if you go on vacation, or if you see something cool, or let’s say you go out to eat and you want to show what you’re eating…that sort of thing.”

“People want to know that stuff?” Effie asked innocently, causing the girls to giggle.  “People want to know that about me?”

“I’d love to follow you on Instagram.  I’d love to see how you see the world,” Geneviève said.  “It would be a breath of fresh air, to be honest.”

“How would it be a breath of fresh air if everybody is doing it?” Effie asked again.

“Everybody’s not doing it.  That’s the point,” Annica said.  “Instagram has transformed into this, like…God, I don’t even know what to call it.  It’s one big advertisement now.”

Effie considered what the girls were telling her.  She trusted them both, which is why she asked.  Annica talked about it a lot, and was on it a lot, which is why Effie became interested in it in the first place.  Geneviève was on it too, of course, running her own account and also having access to the account for her literary magazine Atomic (she’d given Effie a bunch of old copies to read through, and she was going to devour them right after she finished Geneviève’s book, which was technically a collection of essays).  For a girl who just wanted to be as normal as possible, it seemed to her like Instagram was the logical next step.  “Can…can you guys help me make a profile?”

“Of course,” Annica said as all three of them sat down at the table.  “We can do it after lunch.”

“I’m not your therapist, but you should use it to chronicle your journey and what you’re doing outside of the cult now,” Geneviève offered.  “That’s what I meant when I said I’d love to see how you see the world.  You can post all the things you’ve been baking recently, or the pretty things you see in Calgary when you’re out and about on one of your walks.”

The second that Geneviève mentioned ‘chronicle your journey’, it was like a switch went off in Effie’s brain.  She nodded her head.  “That’s what I’m gonna do.  Let’s make a profile after lunch.”

***

FOLLOW REQUEST: effieschaffer7

You have accepted effieschaffer7’s friend request.

Effie?????

Hi Matthew

U made an insta?

Is it okay if I follow you? Annica helped me

Yes of course it’s okay if u follow me

I am going to post my baking I think

That’s good! I will have to try some one day

When you get back from the road trip there will be something new.  Levi requested a lemon meringue pie and you can have some too if you want.

I’m gonna make sure Levi drives us home then

***

It was Effie who swung the door open excitedly.  Matthew was excited to try the lemon meringue pie, but apparently she was excited about something else.  Her eyes were as wide as the moon and as bright as the sun.  “I got the job!” she screamed.  

Levi dropped his bag as he screamed, catching her as she jumped from the doorway into his arms.  Matthew started cheering too and started clapping; it was only then that Effie even remembered he was standing there, but he really didn’t mind.  “Congratulations, Effie!” he smiled from ear to ear.  “Look at you go!”

She let go of her brother, but still held on to his arms.  “That means I can get the apartment!  That means I can pay for the tuition for the business program!  That means…I…I’m just so excited!”  She looked over at Matthew, seeing his smile, and did the unexpected.  

She hugged him.  She jumped into his arms just like she did with her brother and wrapped her arms around him tightly.  He reciprocated easily, wrapping his own arms around her too.  “That’s amazing, Effie!”

“I just—aaaahhhhheeeeeppppp!” she half yelled-half squealed, letting go of Matthew so they could get back inside.  April in Calgary was still cold.  Both Matthew and Levi set their bags down at the front door and walked straight to the kitchen, following Effie who was practically kicking her heels up.  “I can’t even speak!  I mean, this is—this is me getting to work!  I get to work!  I get to make my own living and make my own money!”

“You should be really proud of yourself,” Matthew said as he sat down on one of the kitchen stools.  “And you get to do something you like to do!  Not a lot of people get to say that.”

She nodded enthusiastically, opening the fridge.  “Here, try this,” she said, taking out the lemon meringue pie she had promised them.  “The owner of the coffee shop said I’m going to start with cookies and brownies and small stuff like that, and then maybe I can expand,” she said.

She cut the pie, plated it for her brother and Matthew, and handing them forks.  Matthew dug in automatically, shoving a giant piece in his mouth.  The second it hit his tongue, he groaned.  “Oh…oh Effie…” he said in between chews.  “This is gonna be dangerous.”

“Is it good?”

“You may need to bake me something every day, now, Effie.  Either that or I’m gonna come visit you every day.”

***

“Piiiiiiivvvooottttt!!!!!”

“If you say that one more time, I’m gonna kill you,” Matthew screamed at Sean holding the other end of the couch at the bottom of the stairs.  

“Piiiiiiiiivvv—”

“Monahan!”

“Is everything okay, boys?” Effie’s sweet voice asked from the top of the stairs, popping her head out of her brand new apartment.  

“We’re fine!” Matthew called out, not wanting her to worry.  “Monahan is just being a jackass!”

“Am not!”

They got the couch upstairs.  They got the bedframe upstairs.  They got the mattress upstairs.  In a little one-bedroom apartment above a storefront on 8th Avenue SW in downtown Calgary, Effie Schaffer was moving in.  Well, Effie was in her apartment unpacking boxes and organizing everything.  Levi, Matthew, Sean, and Jacob were helping move in her furniture.  She was going to thank them gracefully with another pie – this time, she’d experimented with a banana cream pie with salty bourbon caramel.  It was in the fridge waiting.  Each of them would get a nice big slice.

Geneviève came over for a bit, helping Effie with organizing the kitchen.  And Jenna dropped by after work, making sure everything was in order.  Jacob and his piece of pie left with Geneviève, and Levi and his piece of pie left once he knew everything was in order, and Sean and his piece of pie left after he and Matthew had finished putting the couch together.  Matthew hadn’t left with his piece of pie yet.  Matthew stayed.  

“This apartment is so great for you, Effie,” he said as he sat down on the couch, admittedly exhausted from all the hauling but despite that, still not wanting to leave.  There was so much to do and say and admire with Effie now that people weren’t around, and though he’d never admit it out loud to them, he always wanted to be alone with her.  It was different when he was alone with her.  With other people around, he couldn’t stare at her too long without being caught, or they couldn’t talk about things from their previous conversations that only they knew about.  With people gone, they could.  He’d stay until Effie told him to go home; if she would even tell him to go home.  He was unsure if she knew she could tell people to leave because she was tired or just wanted to be alone.

“Tomorrow Levi and I are going to go to the mall to get me a laptop for school,” she said, opening her fridge.  “My course starts in June.  It’s going to be really exciting.”

“That’s great,” he said, looking at her from the couch.  “It’s business, right?”

She nodded her head enthusiastically.  “Business administration.  Are you going to come try this pie or what?”

Matthew hauled his sore body off the couch and made his way towards the kitchen, standing next to Effie as she sliced a piece of the pie for him.  He reached over her head and grabbed two plates from the cupboard, setting them down.  Their bodies were close – purposely, he had to admit selfishly, on his part – so that every time she turned the pie and made a slice, her arm and elbow would touch him.  He watched as she carefully plated the slices.

Before she moved to grab the forks, she looked up at Matthew.  “Can I try something?” she asked timidly.

He furrowed his brows slightly.  “Of course.”

Effie hesitated, looking Matthew in the eye, wondering if she should really go through with what’s been on her mind since Andrew’s birthday party.  She resolved with herself to never let fear get in the way of her making a decision in her new life, especially now that she was free to make those decisions.  So she did it.  She did what she wanted to do.

Effie Schaffer stood on her tip-toes and kissed Matthew Tkachuk.  

It was light, chaste, and pure; no tongue, no longer than three seconds, and no warning.  But she kissed him.  With her eyes closed.  And for the first time in a long, long, long time, when she closed her eyes and kissed someone her body didn’t seize up.  When she closed her eyes and kissed him, she didn’t think of the other kisses she had to endure rather than enjoy.  When she closed her eyes and kissed him, she didn’t see Abraham.  Matthew’s lips were much softer; there was nothing about him like was like Abraham, not one atom on his body.  She liked it that way.  And the fact that she didn’t remember her past life when it happened made it all the better for her.

Matthew, for his part, was shocked.  Shocked that she, Effie Schaffer, who grew up abused in a cult and didn’t start wearing pants until just a few months ago, would do something so forward.  He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to happen, because he did, against all of his better judgement and the rational side of his brain telling him not to.  “Was that okay for you?” he asked softly.

Effie nodded.  “Of course it was.  I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think it would be okay for me.”

Matthew’s word vomit got the best of him.  “Do you think it—”

“Don’t talk to me like you’re my therapist please,” she said quickly.  “Talk to me like you’re a guy.”

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

Effie looked down, suddenly nervous.  She wasn’t second-guessing her decision to kiss him, but what she was doing now was wondering what Matthew thought of it.  He’d kissed her back.  He didn’t just stand there and take the kiss – he kissed her back.  He moved his lips too.  That meant something, right?  “Matthew?” she finally asked, her voice soft.

“Hmm?”

“Do you like me?” she asked.

“Of course I like you, Effie.”

“No, I mean do you…do you like me.  Like how boys like girls sometimes.”

Matthew looked her in the eye, his entire ego dropping to the pits of his stomach.  Having the completely inability to be able to lie to her, he gave her a quick nod of the head.  “Yeah, I do.”

Effie bit her bottom lip.  She didn’t know a lot, but she knew this was a huge moment.  But she swallowed hard, her thoughts getting the best of her.  “Even after everything that happened to me?”

Matthew’s heart broke.  It always did when he spoke with Effie.  “Of course,” he said simply.  “You’re not what happened to you.  You’re so much more than that, Effie.”

Effie nodded her head.  She knew that.  Dr. Barlow, Levi, Jenna, Geneviève – everyone important in her life had been telling her that.  She knew it was true, but she needed to hear the words from Matthew.  She couldn’t just assume them.  “I want to let you know that was the first time in my life that I’ve initiated…physical contact with a man,” she said quietly, her voice just above a whisper.  “I did it…I did it with you because I feel comfortable with you.  I wouldn’t have even thought about doing that a year ago but…but you’ve really helped me these past few months, and you make me feel so comfortable to try new things like corn dogs or kissing.  Even just…you know, touching.  I just want you to know that.”

Matthew nodded.  This was huge.  He was pretty sure he hadn’t let out a breath since her lips met his.  “I hope you always feel comfortable around me.”

“I think I will,” she said, smiling slightly.  

Matthew smiled.  “Well, in that case, can I kiss you again?”

“No.”

Matthew chuckled to himself.  Her deadpan delivery dissolved everything.  She was in total control.  “Fair enough.”

Effie moved to grab the forks from the drawer she was standing in front of.  Before she put them on the plates, she looked up at him again.  “But if I kissed you again, would you like it?”

Matthew nodded his head.  “Would you?”

Effie nodded her head.  

***

“What about this?” Matthew asked, pointing to a fake plant hanging from a little black pot.  “Everybody loves fake plants.”

Ikea had a lot of options – too many, if Effie was being honest.  But she nodded her head, and Matthew took the initiative to grab the plant and put it in the cart.  There were a bunch of frames already in there, and some decorative stuff for her new place.  “Matthew?” she looked up at him.

“Hmm?” he looked down.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

“I’ve got an Americano with room for milk for Matthew!” the barista called out, setting the drink down on the counter.  Matthew approached to grab his drink, bringing it to the other station where he was able to pour in his milk and two packs of brown sugar before popping the lid on.  He rejoined Effie.

“Does it feel like you’re cheating when I bring you to Starbucks?” he asked her in a light-hearted tone.

“Matthew?” she looked up at him.

“Hmm?” he was already looking down.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

“I think these are your best ones yet,” Matthew said through a mouth full of chocolate-dipped almond biscotti.  Effie was trying out recipes.  He was her unofficial-official taste-tester.  The whole team was, really.  And if they sold well in the coffee shop, the manager would allow her to expand.  So far, so good.  “I love the almond flavour.  It’s there but it’s not too strong, you know?”

He watched as Effie nodded her head.  “Matthew?” she asked, looking at him eye-to-eye since he was sitting down on one of the stools in her kitchen.

He knew what was coming.

She leaned forward and kissed him.  His lips tasted like almonds.

***

“Are you excited for the movie?” Matthew asked as he poured the popcorn from the steaming hot bag into the bowls Effie got for them.

“Very,” she nodded.  Tonight they’d be watching Emma, the 2020 movie version of Jane Austen’s classic.  Effie liked to see all the amazing clothes the women used to wear.  A part of her wanted to dress up like that now, but she knew she’d get stared at.  The other part of her never wanted to wear a dress again if she didn’t have to.  “Matthew?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he looked down at her.  He knew what was coming.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

It was always when the two of them were alone.  It never happened when she would wait for him and Levi and Jacob with Jenna and Geneviève after games.  It never happened if they were ever out with a big group, or even just with Levi and Jenna.  Matthew was sure Effie had told them she was kissing him – she probably told Dr. Barlow too, now that he thought about it – but nobody had ever approached him about it.  “I heard you’ve been kissing Effie.”  

It was always the same, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.  They were alone.  They were usually doing something mundane.  Then Effie would ask “Matthew?” in her soft, sweet voice.  He’d look down at her.  She’d go on her tip-toes, and she’d kiss him.

It was always initiated by her.  

***

“Can I take you out on a date?” Matthew asked one day when they were alone in her apartment.  

Effie looked shocked.  Surprised, even, though Matthew didn’t think the question was out of the ordinary.  “You…you want to go out on a date with me?” she asked.

“Yes, of course I do,” Matthew said, wanting there to be no doubts in her mind.  “You know that I like you, Effie.  I think it’s something that could be really fun for you…for us.”

Effie was deep in thought – Matthew could tell.  She nodded slightly.  “We have been doing a lot of kissing lately…” she mused.  He couldn’t help but smile, even though it faded slightly when she looked up at him nervously.  “Matthew, I—I’ve never been on a date before.”

“I figured as much.”

“I mean, I—even with Abraham.  He never—I mean, I was just told I was marrying him because he wanted me.  I told you that.  But even before that.  Women couldn’t date.  Nobody could—I mean most couples were just thrust together, but—but—women weren’t even allowed in the same room alone with the opposite sex because we’d tempt them.”

“I know Effie, it’s okay,” he said softly.  “Listen, if you’re scared or nervous or not ready, we don’t have to.  But you know that I like you.  And I know you like me too.  It’s what people do when they like each other.  So if you’ll let me, we could go out for dinner or something.  Nothing too big or fancy.  Just a dinner.”

If she went on a date with Matthew, Effie would be giving a giant middle finger to her past.  She would be asserting her agency in making her own choices.  She’d be doing something she wasn’t allowed to do for eighteen years of her life.  It was an action of justice at its very core – going on a date with a boy because she liked him and found him attractive.  She wasn’t even allowed to touch other men besides her husband less than two years ago because of his abusive and totalitarian “sermons”.  She remembered back to her begging to her mother not to get married at fourteen and her mother refusing to listen to her.  Here was Matthew saying “If you’re scared or nervous or not ready, we don’t have to.”  

Effie nodded her head.  “I want to go out on a date with you.”

Matthew smiled bashfully.  He was sure his cheeks were going to turn red like some sort of teenager.  “What kind of food d’you wanna eat?”

***

“How’d you get that shiner, buddy?” Sean asked.

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled.

***

“What the hell happened to you?” Johnny asked the moment he saw him in the locker room.

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled.

***

Mark Giordano was not happy to see one of his star players show up to the arena with a black eye.  But he didn’t want to confront Matthew in a full locker room, so he waited until there was only a few people around – and even then, they were far away enough that he knew they wouldn’t really pick up on the conversation.  “What the fuck happened to your eye?” Mark asked, approaching Matthew

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled, not even looking at his captain.

Mark furrowed his eyebrows.  There had to be something, a clue of some sort, to help him get to the bottom of this.  It was nobody’s birthday, so Matthew hadn’t gone out to a bar.  He didn’t get into a fight or scuffle on the ice that was too bad, so it couldn’t have been that either.  But then Mark remembered.  “I thought you spent time with Effie last ni—”

“I said I’m not gonna talk about it!” Matthew hissed as he got up abruptly, stomping away and leaving the room.

Mark took a deep breath in, putting his hands on his hips.  Kids.  He had to get to the bottom of this.  It was in his nature.  And as captain, he took his role seriously.  He needed to make sure his teammates were okay.  The media was definitely going to pick up on the black eye, and they’d need a good cover.  He left the locker room, following the path Matthew took, knowing he was probably letting off some steam in an empty trainer’s room.  Mark popped his head into two of them before finding Matthew in a third, facing away from the door and taping his stick.  Mark knew Matthew heard him walk in and shut the door behind him, but Matthew didn’t turn around.

“Sit,” Mark said sternly.

Matthew took a deep breath in but did as he was told.  He wasn’t going to defy Mark – he respected him way too much.  And he knew he had out let out the steam by telling someone, and Mark was probably the best person to tell.  

Mark sat down casually beside him, hunched over with his elbows on his knees so it looked like they were about to have a casual conversation, just in case anyone else barged in.  “Tell me what happened.”

Matthew took a deep breath.  “I took her out on a date last night.”

“Effie.”

“Yeah,” Matthew nodded slightly.  “And it was nice.  We went to a really nice Italian restaurant downtown.  She was having so much fun.  And she came back to my place and—”

“Please don’t tell me—”

“No no—it wasn’t—no,” he emphasized.  “I might be an idiot but I’m not that much of an idiot.”

“You can’t fault me for thinking it.”

Matthew shook his head.  “She came back to my place and I guess—well, I guess because the whole thing was so new for her, it was mentally exhausting.  She sorta kept saying how tired she was.  I told her she could stay over.  And it was fine.  We were just sleeping in the same bed.”

“And then?”

Matthew grumbled.  “And then I moved.”

There was a pause.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

***

“I’m so sorry,” Effie whispered through tears, looking at Matthew’s back as he sat on the edge of the bed, pressing a bag of frozen peas against his face.

The entire night had been lovely.  She’d felt so good, and so comfortable, and so normal.  The food was delicious.  The walk through the park was magical.  The thing’s they’d talked about ran through her mind the entire night.  They hadn’t stopped talking.  They’d gone back to his place.  She was tired.  He suggested she stay over, knowing Levi wouldn’t mind.  She agreed.  She borrowed an old t-shirt and shorts.  They’d fallen asleep in his bed.  And it was lovely.  

And then at some point, in the middle of the night, with Effie’s back facing Matthew as he switched positions in his sleep, all she felt was a body pressing up against her slightly.  So she did the only thing she needed to do.

She punched him.  Hard.  

She hit between his eye and nose.  A loud “FUCK!” escaped him after the sound of skin hitting skin permeated through his bedroom.  Her body seized up and, like countless times before, she jumped out of bed.  When she turned around to look down at the bed, Matthew was clutching his eye in pain.  It was then that she realized just that – it was Matthew.  It wasn’t Abraham.  

“M—M—Matthew,” she stuttered out.  

“What the fuck, Effie?!” his temper got the best of him.

“M—Matthew—I—I thought—Abraham—I thought you were Abraham—”

With his one clear eye, he looked at her.  His chest was heaving.  But he didn’t say anything.  His shoulders slumped slightly.  And without saying anything, he got up out of the bed and walked out of the room.

Effie immediately dropped to her knees on the bed.  It’s what she would have done before, to ask for forgiveness for denying her husband satisfaction whenever and wherever he wanted it.  But now, in the new world, in her new world, it wasn’t like that.  She didn’t have to repent for her sin.  It didn’t have to be that way.  Abraham wasn’t in bed with her.  It was Matthew.  Sweet, soft, rough around the edges Matthew.

She started crying.  She couldn’t believe that she’d just done that to him.  She cried so hard she didn’t even realize he’d come back into the room quietly, with a bag of peas pressed against his face where she’d punched him.  

After she apologized, and he said nothing, she crawled over to him, the last of her tears spilling over her cheeks.  She lay her hand on his back.  “Matthew—”

He flinched at her touch.  She recoiled her hand back so quickly she didn’t know she could move that fast.  Her heart tightened in her chest, knowing she’d just caused him – and was continuing to cause him – such physical pain, when all he’d given her over the last few months was patience and support.  

Matthew heard her sharp intake of breath when he flinched.  He didn’t mean to flinch – really – he just didn’t expect her to touch him after she’d just punched his face for brushing up against her.  He took a few deep breaths to control his emotions before he looked behind him, seeing her tear-stained face looking at him.  

When he saw the lingering fear in her eyes, he couldn’t be angry.

***

Matthew played his hockey game, and he managed to score a goal and record an assist, but after the game, his mind was somewhere else.  Effie hadn’t shown up to the game; she wasn’t waiting with Jenna and Geneviève, and Jenna told him she was tired from work which is why she stayed home.  He needed to talk to her.  Needed to talk to her.  But he didn’t know how, and he didn’t know what to do.  

Jacob, Geneviève, Levi, and Jenna all left early, leaving him to go home alone.  He trudged down the hallway and took the elevator to the parking garage, his feet dragging on the concrete and he walked with his head down, a storm forming in his mind about what he was going to do.

“Matthew?” he heard a soft voice.

He shot his head up.  For a second he thought he was hallucinating, or some sort of mirage, but no – Effie was in the parking garage, standing right next to his car.  He had no idea how she got in but at this point he didn’t really care.  All he cared about was that she was there.  He rushed over to her as quickly as his legs would take him.  “You’re here,” he said, once he got close to her.  Her face was red and blotchy.  He hated seeing it like that.  It reminded him of the incident in the washroom.  “What’s going on?”

“I spent the whole day crying thinking about what I did to you,” she said, her voice sounding like she was on the verge of tears again.

“Effie, I told you it was alri—”

“It’s not alright, Matthew,” she asserted.  He’d said it all last night while she was profusely apologizing, but she didn’t believe him.  He’d said it up until she was picked up by a taxi to be taken back to her place.  He’d begged her to stay.  She couldn’t see how she could when she’d just punched him in the face.  “I wish you would stop saying that.  I hit you.  I gave you a black eye.  Nothing about that is alright—”

“Effie—”

“I just—I thought you were Abraham because he’d do that a lot and—because I would always try to say no otherwise, and so he had to get me at a point where—”

“EFFIE,” he said loudly, over her frantic voice, and she stopped immediately.  They stared at each other for a few moments in pure silence before Effie could feel Matthew’s hands grab hers.  He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her tightly, and she nestled her face into his chest and inhaled his scent.  A wave of peace flowed throughout her body.  He hadn’t asked to touch her, but at the same time, she hadn’t flinched.  His touch was so…so pure and so soft – so unlike anything else she’d felt before – that there was no reason to flinch or be scared.  His hands wouldn’t hurt her like other hands had.  She realized this, inhaling his scent one more time.  He wouldn’t hurt her.

When he released the hug, she brought her own hands up to cradle his face.  His facial hair was a bit rough against her skin, but it was still the softest she’d ever felt on a man.  Maybe it was because he always gave her butterflies.  Maybe it was something else.  “You’re so soft, Matthew…” her voice was barely above a whisper.  

“What’s that mean?” he asked, his voice equally as low.  “I’m not soft.”

“Yes, you are.  You are for me,” she clarified.  “You’re the softest man I’ve ever felt.  I don’t want that to change.”

He realized what she meant now.  It hit him like a ton of bricks, like most things did with Effie.  “It won’t,” he asserted.  “You can count on me.”

“I know I can,” she nodded her head.

Matthew couldn’t take it anymore.  They couldn’t continue this in the parking garage.  “Can I take you back to my place again and we can talk?  Properly?”

Effie nodded her head.  

***

Matthew let Effie roam in his kitchen while he changed out of his suit into some comfier clothes.  When he emerged from his room, Effie was sitting on his couch – just like she had been last night – a glass of water in her hand, sipping from it delicately.  He knew she’d end up back on his couch since she had commented last night how big and comfy it was.  Matthew didn’t even know where it was from – it came with the apartment.  But ever since she’d sat on it and made the comment, he found it comfier.

He walked over to her slowly, and she watched him, not saying a word.  Instead of taking a seat beside her, he knelt in front of her, between her legs.  He was still almost at eye level with her.  Boldly, he took the glass of water out of her hand and set it down on the coffee table.  He grabbed her hands in his and rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumb tenderly.  “Can I ask you a question?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“What happened that night?  After you punched Abraham?”

Effie was silent for a moment.  “I…I—I got pregnant.”

The words stabbed Matthew in the heart.  He squeezed her hands to let go of some pain, and she squeezed back.  “I’m so sorry for what I did, Effie—”

“You have nothing to apologize about,” she said.  “You did nothing wrong.”

“But I scared you.  And I promised I’d never do that.  And it brought up bad memories…”

Effie was shaking her head.  “You didn’t scare me.  My mind did.  My mind thought you were Abraham.  But you’re the farthest thing from him, Matthew, and you need to know that.  You don’t scare me at all.  Not even a bit.  Not like Abraham scared me.”

Matthew bit his tongue so he could feel some pain and keep himself from crying.  To think about how she was so scared for eighteen years of her life, and now she wasn’t, and part of that was because he was around, helping her feel comfortable…he couldn’t have asked for anything more.  He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty for what happened, especially since Effie was telling him what she was telling him, but he knew he would for a while.  It’d take him a while to get over it.  “When we went on the date…did you—I mean, did you just do it because you felt like you had to?  Because you had to experience a first date to be normal or whatever?  Or did you actually want to?” he asked.

“I actually wanted to,” she said without hesitation.  Matthew could feel his heart beating in his chest.  “I wanted to, and with you.  Not with another guy and not with, like, Sean or whatever,” she said, and it made Matthew break out into a smirk.  “It was you.  And even though…I mean—I mean I think we could…and we would…” she tried to formulate her thought into coherent words.  

“But I don’t know if we should,” he finished her sentence.

Effie nodded.  “At least not yet.  I’m not—I’m not mentally there yet.  I’m not ready.  And it wouldn’t be fair to bring you along so closely with something I know I’m not ready for.  There’s so much I still need to learn…about, well…everything.”

Matthew nodded his head.  He understood completely.  “You know that I never expected anything, right?” he asked.

“Oh, of course not,” she said like it was the obscenest idea in the world.  She knew Matthew would never expect that of her.  “I think what’ll be good is you going home during the summer, and me starting my course in June…and by the time you come back in September, you might even see a brand new me.”

Matthew couldn’t help but smile at that.  He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs again.  “You’re already a brand new person, Effie.  When I come back you’ll just be wiser.  Do you promise to message me on Instagram about everything you learn and the stuff you experience?”

Effie nodded her head, a smile adorning her face now.  “Matthew?” she asked after a moment of silence.

This time, he looked up at her.  He knew what was coming.

This time, she didn’t need to stand on her tip-toes.  All she had to do was lean forward and kiss him.

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[darling-i-read-it]

Together

Ethan Winters x reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: violence, cuss words, spoilers for re7,

Author’s Note: I changed up the ending of the request a tad I hope you don’t mind. I hope you enjoy! I love writing for Ethan so this was a pleasure.

Requested: by @drinksomecoco, So I’ve just had these two fic ideas floating around that I wasn’t able to commit to. For Resi7, the idea is that the reader is someone Lucas had kidnapped and trapped in his weird saw games. They managed to escape while Lucas was distracted with family things and had found their way into the main house right before Ethan escaped his first family dinner, so they end up with him through the whole sordid affair. After everything is over, Ethan now has to choose between his wife, who he now knows lied to him their whole relationship, or the reader, who admitted at some point that they didn’t have much of a home to go to. Obviously wouldn’t expect anyone to rewrite the whole game’s plot, maybe more reflection while they recover and Ethan has to make his choice

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

When you woke up your head was throbbing. You felt like you hadn’t known a moment's peace in days. You should have known, you kept telling yourself. You should have known that going this far out into the wilderness would only bring bad things.

A whole family of bad things.

Lucas was the one who found you out wandering by yourself. Honestly, you wished it was anyone else. He was a sadist and he kept putting you in these sick games. You had beaten him so far but you weren’t sure how much longer you could take.

You sat up in the cold empty stone room and rubbed your head. You looked around. There was a single bulb light above your head, illuminating the room. You walked up to the door and grabbed onto the door handle, not expecting it to work.

To your surprise, the handle turned, opening the door up. You stood there for a moment in awe. You had tried that every time you woke up but it had never worked. You had to be careful. There was a possibility it was all part of Lucas’s games. You took a step forward and looked around warily.

Nothing and no one in sight. He must have just made a fatal mistake. Your breath picked up as you started to walk around his little hellscape. It was a winding place, filled with twists, turns and trip wires. You wanted to run but had to make sure you kept your pace. You couldn’t move too fast with the traps littered around.

You took a deep breath as you opened another door and stumbled outside. You wanted to cry from relief. Air. Outside air. You looked around eagerly, making sure you didn’t see anyone else. It was dark outside. There was a trailer and then a large house to your right. You weren’t sure if you would be able to get away if you didn’t go through the house. Everything else looked pretty fenced in.

You went into the trailer and was pleased to find a gun and some ammo in there. You loaded the gun, thankful for the shooting classes you had taken years ago. You put the gun safely in your belt loop and carefully approached the house. You opened up the door a bit and glanced inside the large room.

You took a deep breath as you stepped inside. It was a large room with two staircases on either side of the room. You took in your surroundings. Just had to find a way to the other side of this house. That was all you had to do. The task didn’t seem so daunting when you put it that way.

Suddenly the door on the same floor you were on opened carefully. You took out your gun and held it up as a man opened the door and shut it carefully behind him. He had nicely cut dirty brown hair and he was wearing a green jacket that was covered in black and red liquids.

He turned around and noticed you which caused him to raise his own gun.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice shaking.

“Who are you?” He walked up to you, gun not wavering.

“Answer my question.”

“I...are you part of the family?”

“No. Are you?” You shook your head. You both kept your weapons up though, noticeably untrustworthy.

“I’m Y/N. I was trying to find a nice place out here in the wilderness to take some pictures but Lucas found me and put me in his little hell of games,” you told him. “Who are you? How did you get here?” He thought about whether he was going to answer you and took a deep breath before lowering his gun. You lowered yours as well.

“My wife went missing three years ago. She sent me a message...I found her here. But she’s crazy she tried to kill me and then this fucking family tied me up to a chair and…” He showed you his hand which seemed to be stapled on. You scoffed.

“I can take a look at that if you want. I know a little bit about medical stuff,” you said warily. He nodded a bit.

“I have to get my wife.”

“I have to get out of here.”

“Me too. Eventually.” You nodded a bit. You put your gun in your waistband again and Ethan walked closer to you. He still didn’t entirely trust you but he liked you enough. “Your wifes a lucky girl,” you told him. He smiled a bit. There was some unspoken truth there. Ethan could help you and you could help him.

“You mind telling her that? She’s still trying to kill me.”

=====

You and Ethan walked over to the trailer to get some sort of peace. You couldn’t stay there long but it seemed like it was a place where they didn’t look often. Plus, there was only one door to monitor. He sat on the bed as you knelt in front of him. You were carefully examining his hand.

“The staples were a choice,” you muttered. He chuckled dryly.

“At least it’s back on,” he told you. You nodded and sat down on your knees.

“It looks like you’re able to use it well enough. Once we get out of here we’re gonna have to make sure you get it looked at further. Here’s some more meds if the hand starts hurting.”

“You’re a Godsend.” You gave him a kind smile and stood back up.

“Alright, now where’s your wife?”

“I found a video of her going out to the old house. I have to assume she’s somewhere out there but you know, it’s a working theory.” You nodded. “I talked to Zoe. She said there was a cure here, for Mia.”

“And I assume you’re going to find it?” “If I can.” You took a deep breath and nodded.

“Alright. We’ll probably find it when we go and deal with Marguerite.” He nodded back at you.

“That was what I was hoping for.”

“You dealt with the old man?” He nodded.

“Barely.” You cocked your gun.

“Perfect. Then let’s go give mom a taste of what we got.”

====

“This house is fucking disgusting,” you whispered. Ethan nodded as he crouched down beside a nest of some sort.

“I second that.” He stood up and you quickly moved with him. You were quiet, trying to gauge where on Earth Marguerite was. You kept yourself together as you ran into large bugs and places that made you need to backtrack and find other things.

As you walked through the house you eventually made it up to a small window.

“Ethan?” You turned around, met face to face with some woman you hadn’t seen before.

“Mia!” Ethan ran over and put his hands against the barrier between the two of them. You found yourself hiding a bit of jealousy but you had bigger problems.

“Hey Ethan!” Lucas yelled, grabbing Mia around the neck. Ethan started to shake the barrier. Lucas met your eyes as he pulled her away. “I’ll get you bitch. Just you wait!” You turned to Ethan as Lucas and Mia disappeared. He gave you a nervous look which you returned.

Eventually the two of you made it out to some sort of greenhouse where Marguerite was waiting. She transformed herself into a disgusting, drooping and dangerous form.

Ethan handed you one of his two shotguns which you took with care. You raised it up to where her most vulnerable place was and shot.

Ethen came at her from your side. When your gun got knocked down Ethan put himself between you and your foe. He put his hand on your hip, turning you so you were effectively behind him as he shot his handgun. Together you were able to take her down, after much effort. As she fell and died you suddenly realized how exhausted and in pain you were.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked, more worried then he thought he was. You nodded a bit and used his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Just a little woozy. We gotta move on.” He nodded and grabbed your other arm, holstering his gun.

“You’re gonna pass out.” You shook your head.

“I am not.” He gave you a look. “You know Ethan Winters, you’re kind of a badass. I would be scared if you were pointing a gun at me.”

“I already did.”

“And I was scared,” you joked weakly. He scoffed and put your arm over his shoulder.

“Let’s get to the trailer and give you a minute before we hit Lucas with all that we got,” he muttered. You nodded.

“That motherfucker doesn’t know what's coming,” you whispered.

“Yeah, a guy with one hand and a girl who’s about to pass out. He’s gonna tremble in fear.”

“Hey now, don’t you underestimate us. We’ve made it this far. Just gotta get him, get your wife and get the fuck out of here.” He didn’t get the same pleasant feeling when he thought of Mia. He decided not to bring it up or dwell on it.

“Alright. I believe you.” ===

Ethan sat on the bed beside you. You were resting for a moment. You promised him only five minutes and he watched the door. He didn’t mind much. You fell into sleep easily, clearly exhausted. He grabbed your hand and held it for comfort.

Your face was so peaceful when you were asleep.

“Ethan,” you whispered, eyes still shut.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“We have to keep moving,” you told him as you squeezed his hand groggily.

“If you pass out Lucas will kill you.”

“Yeah? You would let that happen?” He scoffed. Ethan realized suddenly, he wouldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t get hurt. He chastised his own thoughts, looking down at his ring finger but he couldn’t see it. You were holding his hand and blocking the view.

“Not if I can help it.”

=====

Lucas paid special attention to you. He wanted to make sure you suffered for getting out and killing his parents. You and Ethan were forced to play his little game.

You and Ethan stood together in a locked couple of rooms. He grabbed your arm before you could walk too far into the room.

“Y/N-”

“This is just like the ones he kept me in. I saw the footage of someone else doing this, I know how to do it,” you whispered to him. He watched your eyes. He was sweating and exhausted. He was relieved to hear that you knew what you were doing.

“Go on then.”

You were able to work through that puzzle which did piss Lucas off but you were already gone before he could complain anymore. Now you had the serum and you had both made it out alive.

You found Mia after an aggressive amount of fighting with the Bakers. The more you saw of this family the less you were surprised by the sight. She was stumbling and scared but at the sight of Ethan her face lit up .

“Ethan?! Ethan!” she called, throwing her arms around her. He held her wordlessly for a moment as he dragged her quickly to the boat you and Ethan had found.

“We have a serum, to cure you,” you told her. She gave you a scared look.

“Who are you?”

“She’s a friend,” Ethan said. You held each other's gaze for a moment and gave her a kind smile. “I didn’t see Zoe. Did you find her?” he asked Mia. She shook her head.

“I haven’t seen Zoe in ages. We need to get out of here. We can’t dwell,” she told you both.

“She helped me get this serum.”

“Yeah and that’s much appreciated. But we have to leave,” she said. “We can come back later.” You eyed Ethan. He looked over at you for permission and you shrugged.

“She helped us get this. It seems stupid to leave her.”

Mia was trembling, worried about the escape. You all were. It was right then that Zoe emerged from the darkness.

“Zoe!” Ethan called. She ran over.

“You got the serum?” You gave her a curt look and then had to turn away.

“We..we only have one,” Ethan said. He was holding the only one there. You had to use the other one fighting Jack. You looked away from Mia as she noticed that he was going to have to make a choice.

“Well then you’ll have to choose one of us to give it to,” Zoe said evenly. Mia looked over at him and Ethan just looked at you. You shrugged from behind Mia.

“It’s up to you Ethan.” You could practically see his gears turning in his head. On one hand, Mia was his wife. He came here for her. But on the other hand...Zoe could help them get out. They could try and replicate the serum if they were able to leave sooner.

He grabbed Zoe’s arm and stuck the needle in. Mia gasped, shocked.

“I’m sorry. I truly am. Zoe will be able to guide us to safety,” he told her. You stepped into the boat, helping Zoe inside beside you.

“I’m staying here,” Mia said, disgusted.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ethan countered. “My place is here. With her,” she told him. You watched as Ethan got into the boat in front of you.

“We’ll come back for you,” he promised. Mia’s face was shrouded by the dark shadows as the boat went down the river.

=====

Eventually you came up to a much larger boat. You ended up on the boat, where Eveline was. You had known about Eveline, only through Lucas’s complaints about her. You didn’t realize she was a child or that she was like the way she was. When Eveline realized that Mia might not want to be her mother, she wondered if you would be a candidate.

She knocked you and Ethan out.

You woke up with a start. Your head hasn't stopped hurting since the last time you woke up. Now you had no idea where you were. You stood up shakily. Eveline hadn’t taken your weapons.

“Ethan?! Zoe?!” you called out but there was no response. You looked around at the dark and grimy metal of the boat. You pulled out your gun. “Ethan?!” you called again, hoping that he would answer. Nothing.

You had to start walking around to find them. Your feet started to get wet from the damp atmosphere but you could barely notice. You ran into different mold monsters but were able to keep them down enough for you to pass.

You felt like you had walked for almost an hour before you saw Ethan. He ran into you, breath heaving, gun out.

“Fuck, I almost shot you!” he yelled. “What’s going on? Where’s Zoe?”

“She’s dead! Mia!” You furrowed your eyebrows and then saw that Mia was chasing him down with a weapon. Your eyes went wide. The shots you figured at her merely slowed her down.

“Run!” you told him and both of you started to book it away.

“We need to find Eveline!” he told you as you ran.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know! But we need to find her!” You nodded, taking a sharp turn.

“Lead the way!”

====

You had to watch Ethan kill his wife. You watched him as his love for her was broken down to pieces as he shot her. You helped obviously. But he fired the last shot, as she asked him why he had chosen Zoe over her. Even you felt your heart clench up a bit and you didn’t love her like Ethan had.

“Mia,” he whispered as she crystallized and then dissipated. “Why?” You walked up to him and put a hand on his back. He turned to you and hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. You held him there for a moment and then pulled away. You put your hand on his cheek gingerly.

“We have to keep going. We have to find her.” Ethan nodded and backed away to reload his gun. His face glossed over with grief and rage.

“Let’s go.”

=====

The last fight with Eveline was dirty. You had to get the shot into her and it happened but not after she erupted into screams. She looked like she was just a child. How could just a child do all of the chaos she did?

As your back landed harshly on the ground after being shot out of the house, you felt relief. Relief and pain. You could see the sun rising. For a moment you just laid in the grass as your ears rang.

Then Ethan turned to grab your hand. You turned your head to look at him. His face was dirty and tired. You would probably both sleep for a week after this ordeal. Your hearing came back and you could hear him try and talk to you over the sound of helicopter propellers.

“What?!” you called, probably far more loudly than you intended.

“Are you okay!?” he screamed. You nodded quickly.

“Are you?!” He nodded back.

“Ethan Winters and Y/N Y/L/N?!” You both looked up to see a large man standing over you. You sat up and he held out his hand for both of you to take.

“Yes?!” Ethan called.

“I’m Redfield. I’m glad we found you.”

Chris and his team helped the two of you into a chopper. You sat next to each other as it lifted off. You saw Ethan pull out his phone, miraculously uncracked. A video of Mia was playing on it.

“She lied to me the entire time we were married,” he told you quietly.

“I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.” He gave the phone one last look and took a deep breath before tossing it out of the helicopter.

“You could have just deleted the video,” you told him, laughing dryly. He scoffed and nudged you.

“Now is not the time,” he said but his voice was miraculously light hearted.

“You’re right. I am sorry though. Once we have a two day long nap we’ll talk more about it.” “Where are you going? After we get back.” You shrugged.

“I don’t have much of a place to get back to honestly. I guess we’ll just see where the wind takes me.”

“Isn’t that how you ended up here?” You nodded sheepishly. He looked down at the house for a long moment before looking back at you. “Stay with me. We can help each other get out of this rut. You can monitor my stapled on hand.” You smiled, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“You sure?”

“I have room for one more now. I’d like it to be you.” You grabbed his hand tightly. He squeezed your knuckles, looking you in the eye.

“Alright,” you breathed. He nodded.

The two of you fell asleep in the helicopter not long after that, leaning on each other for support. You would heal, over time. Together.

Re8 Part 2

#ethan winters x reader #ethan winters imagines #resident evil imagines