#I’m about to pack up a week worth of clothes
Text
lo mejor (i)
pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader (can be read as reader being latine)
summary: nueva york had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.
but he continued to find himself going to your restaurant, a few of the other spider-people less than convinced that it's just for your food.
a/n: as a latina who also eats empanadas to cure their hanger, i just needed to get this off my chest. will be a multi-part fic!
3k wc. no warnings for this chapter, other than a litany of english + spanish curses
masterlist | one | two
–
“I’m in hiding. He’s angry at me…again…”
As much as the kid was growing on Jess, she sent an unimpressed look at the flickering hologram. “In other news, water is wet.”
“But seriously, how can he expect me to write a report only 5 minutes after I finish a mission? He’s worse than my AP Lit teacher, and Ms. O’Connor was—”
“Gwen, I’m gonna stop you right there. Because we’ve been through this before. You know how to fix this.”
Though her face was covered by her mask, the widening of her goggles before her shoulders sagged in defeat showed Jess that Gwen knew exactly what to do.
“But can’t you come with me? What if I mess up the order?”
“Are you kidding me right now? Didn’t you want me to ‘chill with the hovering’?”
Gwen sighed, already starting to swing her way through Nueva York to get to her destination. “I know, I know, I’ll go. Do you want anything?”
“No need, it sounds like you might have to buy the whole store to be in his good graces again. Good luck.”
Her mentor logged off before hearing her star pupil groan in frustration—what was supposed to be an effortless day was quickly becoming a pain in her ass.
Like countless times before, Gwen quickly changed into her set of ‘futuristic’ civilian clothes to blend in with the rest of the long line at the tiny, but packed, restaurant. If it weren’t for the enticing smell of freshly baked dough, Gwen wondered if this would all be worth it. She’d have to cancel the jam session with Hobie if this plan didn’t work, lest she face the wrath of the villain of the week, Miguel O’Hara.
But when she finally saw a familiar smile and a warm pair of eyes greeting her behind the counter, she realized that Jess was right—she knew how to fix this.
Or rather, you did.
“Mi gringa favorita! It’s been a while. How many empanadas does el jefe need?”
–
Miguel was having a bad day.
It started with the usual suspect: Peter B., un pendejo who believed that Miguel and Jess actually wanted to hear about his daughter’s bowel movements.
Not to mention the impromptu comedy club Miguel had to break down so everyone could get back to doing the jobs they forgot they signed up for. (Nothing was more irritating than being surrounded by unfunny people who genuinely thought their endless quips and corny jokes landed. Every. Single. Time.)
Then for the umpteenth time, he had to tell Gwen to turn in her reports on time. Yet that was nothing compared to her latest efforts in convincing Miguel to let Miles visit HQ and gently explain (gently because, “He doesn’t know any better!”) that he’s the biggest threat to the multi-verse. These poor attempts, unsurprisingly, fell flat. O’Hara warned Jess that the girl would be a liability, and each day he grew closer to sending the kid back to Earth-65 if she decided to pull any tricks.
But the worst part of this dreadful day was when a nervous, slightly cowering Chef Spidey told his boss there were no more empanadas.
“What?” Miguel’s brows furrowed in confusion, indifferent to the uncomfortable silence that enveloped the cafeteria at the sound of his incredulity. “What do you mean, there’s no more empanadas? Who ate the last one?”
“He promised me not to tell you!”
And with that, Miguel stalked to his office where he was currently sulking in, seriously considering changing Peter B.’s portal watch to a day pass as punishment for apparently eating over a half dozen empanadas.
Just as he was about to give Lyla the command, his associate in the heart sunglasses suddenly appeared. “Gwen Stacy will be here in a minute, might want to start lowering your platform.”
“Maldita sea, didn’t I tell you to not let anyone in?” He pinched the bridge of his nose—he’d much prefer for his ears to be rattled with Peter B.‘s ramblings and even Ben Reilly’s moping over Gwen’s incessant whining about how crappy the current Spider Society establishment was. (She was spending way too much time with Hobie.)
“Hey pal, that’s not a nice word, and she comes bearing gifts that you’ll like.”
“Oh really?” he remarked dryly, arms crossed as he began his descent. “She finished the ten detailed reports she owes me?”
Yet Miguel caught the heavenly smell of beef empanadas before seeing Gwen’s sheepish face. And did he also catch a whiff of chorizo and cheese?
“Hi, Miguel. Heard you haven’t had lunch yet, sooooo…” Shaking off her nerves and avoiding that terrifying gaze, she held out the two large boxes as her apology. “And I’ll submit those reports by tonight, I promise.”
An eyebrow raised, he webbed the boxes toward himself and held them even more tightly when he saw where they came from.
His eyes glossed over the mascot of Mama’s Empanadas, a smiling and waving empanada that almost seemed to assure him that his hanger would quickly be cured. But it was the words hurriedly scribbled at the bottom that displaced the rage he’s felt all day with a weird pang in his chest:
“Buen provecho, Jefe :)”
Miguel quickly turned away, hoping he seemed more composed than he actually felt. As the floor to his office slowly began to ascend, he said, “I’ll give you one more day to finish those reports. But don’t think it’s because this bribe worked.”
“Of course.” Gwen hoped the amusement wasn’t clear in her voice, smirking at the shoulders of the tall man lose their tension as he began eating the ‘bribe’. Would Hobie even believe her if she told him what just happened?
“Thanks, Miguel. See you tomorrow!”
He didn’t even register her last words, eyes closed as he savored the explosive taste of smoked chorizo and finally allowed fond memories to flood his brain.
—
Nueva York had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. Unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.
It’s not that he didn’t know how to make them–he’s sure that he could follow his abuela’s recipes that his ma once gave him–but he just didn’t have time. After all, nothing was more convenient than cashing in the perks of the suit to cut a long line and grab free food. But once Lyla finished the goober she was working on (“It’s not a goober, Miguel, it’s a gizmo!”), he’d have even less time to do anything other than jump into different dimensions, some of which would certainly not sell empanadas.
This explained why after changing into sweats following a grueling shift, he found himself staring across the busy street at Mama’s Empanadas, the hunger in his growling stomach overwhelming. The small restaurant was engulfed by flashing neon lights and signs boasting the quality of their food in both Spanish and English. The place was always swarming with people whenever he swung by, but as closing time approached only a few stragglers remained.
And so did you.
Miguel hoped that you were the owner of the shop rather than an overworked employee, considering that he couldn’t remember the last time someone else took your position behind the counter. But even from this distance, he could see your cheery smile while you welcomed new patrons and the regulars, almost as if you were genuinely happy to be serving them on a late Friday night.
With all the running around he’s been doing lately, he couldn’t even remember the last time taking on the Spider-Man mantle gave him the same joy he spotted on your face miles away.
O’Hara felt his phone vibrate as he saw the latest message from Lyla illuminating his screen.
“Got some news to share! Might want to deliver the bad stuff in person though.”
“Que chingada,” Miguel cursed, rubbing tired eyes as he contemplated whether to reply. How could the news get even worse after Earth-1610 lost Peter Parker, their only Spider-Man?
Raising his head, he watched you approach the storefront to activate the electrified gates that would close the shop.
And for reasons his brain would never be able to explain, he felt himself panic, almost as if his body jolted awake as he deftly weaved through honking cars and found himself in front of you, the only barrier being a pesky glass door that would take a millisecond for him to break.
Yet he was surprised to see you hold your ground, and even more shocked to see you flash him an annoyed look he’s never seen you give to any other customer. Shoulders tense, he was ready for you to begin berating him for being a nuisance and to leave the fuck off the premises.
“Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan!”
Miguel blinked, not sure he heard you correctly. Sure, calling him an idiot is warranted, but he was not almost run over by those cars. Even if he did get hit–which, again, he wouldn’t–then the car would be hurt, not him.
Instead of explaining himself without implicating his alter persona, or at the very least say something remotely coherent in English or Spanish, Miguel found himself even more gobsmacked when you opened the door and ushered him inside, frantically asking him questions in a random jumble of Spanglish as you tried inspecting a man seemingly twice your size for any injuries.
“¿No hablas español? Should I call 911, mierda, is this guy catatonic? Should I have moved him? Are you hurt?”
Feeling your hands shake his shoulders finally snapped him out of whatever funk he was in, confusion washing over him as he tried to piece together what just happened in the past minute. Heeding your obvious concern, he sighed and did his best to ignore the absolutely embarrassing predicament he put himself in.
“Estoy bien,” he assured you, his relief matching yours as you let go and immediately exhaled. “I really am fine, I just wanted to try the empanadas before closing.”
There was that exasperation again, your deadly expression sufficient in asking him ‘Are you serious?’ that your high-pitched words of “En serio?” were quite unnecessary, in his opinion.
“Was running across a congested street not serious enough?”
You scoffed before glaring at him for a few more seconds, though he could see the uncertain shift in your eyes. “This isn’t some twisted joke to rob me, right? Last thing I need is having Spider-Man beating you up and breaking my new glass counter.”
Miguel couldn’t hide the wry twist of his lips, fully aware that he could be thrown out at any minute but still curious to hear your opinion. “Not a Spider-Man fan?”
“As long as he doesn’t destroy my property, I wouldn’t even mind defending the dude on J. Jonah Jameson’s stupid podcast.“ You shrugged casually, already beginning to make your way behind the counter after deeming Miguel to be harmless, despite looking like he could crush you with his pinky.
He didn’t know how to respond, still perplexed about why you hadn't kicked him out yet.
He soon brushed those thoughts to the side when his mouth watered upon seeing you point at the remaining golden-brown pastries. “Well, these will be on the house, since you almost died in front of my restaurant. We only have 3 chicken left, 2 guava and cheese, and 1 chorizo with potato.”
Miguel felt his phone vibrate again–no doubt it was Lyla.
And for the first time in a long time, he turned off his phone, not even bothering to view the message as he chose to look at you instead.
“I’ll take them all.”
–
When you first decided to take over your family’s restaurant, your tía taught you how to handle rude customers while also giving you advice on how to treat the nice ones so they always returned.
However, there was nothing in her playbook on how to treat the weird customers.
And Miguel O’Hara was the weirdest by far.
You took a light sip of your café con leche as you stole a glance at him starting his second empanada, the sight of such a quiet, large man sitting in a tiny seat and restraining his urge to inhale the food in one go quite comical. Much like how he ate the first one, he attempted to seem unaffected by the taste of the meaty filling.
But after doing this for so many years, no one could ever hide their reaction from you. Especially the pure happiness one got from eating a toasty, savory empanada.
And seeing the dark red-brown eyes of the intimidating man briefly widening and softening in amazement only made you want to find more ways to recapture that fleeting moment. To lengthen it and bask in its warmth, even if that meant countless hours of mincing, seasoning, kneading, and baking.
“¿Entonces? The only thing you’ve said these past five minutes is your name. ¿Que dice el juez?” you teased, leaning back and smugly folding your arms as you already knew what his verdict would be.
It was a choice you instantly regretted, almost falling out of your chair as he stopped looking at his half-finished empanada and focused all of his attention on you, a gaze so intense you briefly pondered if you left the oven on with the sudden swell of heat suffocating you.
He pursed his lips and rolled those impossibly broad shoulders, yet another action that made the room feel uncomfortably stuffy for no good reason. “It’s one of the best empanadas I’ve ever had in my life.”
Now it was your turn to be surprised, expecting to hear a ‘good’ or maybe even a ‘great’, but not the highest of praises.
A pregnant pause ensued before a hearty laugh escaped you.
It was impossible to suspend your disbelief–all of this coming from one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen enter this shop? Only when pigs fly, or as your abuela preferred to say, “Solo cuando los cerdos vuelan.”
“¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto.”
He had to know that his half-glare really was just him smoldering. There was no way this man was oblivious to the effects of that gaze.
“I don’t think I’m a liar or particularly funny. Though I actually would appreciate a Coca, si la tienes.”
You desperately hoped that your immediate sigh sounded one stemming from annoyance rather than relief–having an excuse to get up and look for a can of soda rather than the brooding dude a mere foot away from you was the only way you’d stay sane through this strange night.
“I do appreciate the kind words,” you said after recollecting your composure, the cool air blasting from the fridge reminding you to retain at least some semblance of professionalism, “but these aren’t even the freshest batch. No way they’re the best you’ve had.”
Miguel raised an eyebrow as you handed him the can. “I didn’t say the best. And you don’t have any with a glass bottle?”
You rolled your eyes before plopping back into your seat. “If I did, I would’ve hit you in the head with it quite a while ago. And especially now, after your challenge.”
“It’s not meant to be taken as a challenge–”
“Ah, but I’ll take it as one because my family’s reputation is riding on this. Or else mi abuela, que en paz descanse”–you pointed to the framed picture of the sweet, old lady right above the cash register–“lanzará sus chanclas poderosas, and I don’t want to get hit by those, they’re stronger than that car that was about to run you over.”
The roll of his eyes was obnoxiously overt, but you barely caught a glimpse of the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, masterfully hidden by taking a sip of his coke.
“How would this so-called challenge even work?”
“You’re asking the wrong question because that’s an easy answer. The next time you come, I’ll bake you a fresh batch of your favorite empanadas, no matter what kind and even if you come 5 minutes before closing.” Listing the types with each finger, it’s hard to contain your excitement. “Baked, fried, sweet, savory, you name it.”
“¿Y si no me gustan?”
“¡No seas tonto! Yet another dumb question, because you’ll not only like them, you’ll fucking love them. The right question is whether you’d think they’re the best.”
You swore he inched closer, the once faint smell of sandalwood from his cologne now overpowering your already-fried senses. “And what if they’re not the best?”
“I’ll get two more attempts afterward. If they still don’t meet your palate’s expectations, which honestly isn’t a worry of mine, then you’ll get free empanadas for the year.” It’s said without hesitation, with confidence you have no idea how you mustered all of a sudden.
Out of all moments to be driven by pride, you choose to do so while tightrope walking on a straight razor.
And you wondered if Miguel read your mind because, for the first time, you heard his laugh. It’s a sardonic one, but its deep timbre was as attractive as his face and meshed well with his incredibly dry sense of humor.
Maybe the walk wouldn’t be as bad as you imagined.
“You’re either extremely arrogant in thinking you’ll win, or too trustful in people to believe they wouldn’t scam you with this deal.”
“But you’re not just some normal person,” you reply simply, amused to see his shoulders slightly stiffened, “and I believe you when you said you’re not a liar. Call it a gut feeling.”
“What do you even get out of this?” he asked, puzzled at how you just weren’t setting yourself up for failure. He didn’t need Lyla for him to visualize the thousands of ways you could lose.
Your wolfish grin showed a lot more than your words. “Nothing, other than making my family proud. Anddd perhaps receiving a five-star review on Yelp wouldn’t hurt either.”
Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged before lifting his soda can toward you. “That’s the least I could do. But don’t think I’ll make this easy for you.”
You gently clinked his can with your cup of coffee as your eyes locked with his, wondering what the hell you just got yourself into.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
–
translations (please lmk if you need more):
Mi gringa favorita - my favorite white girl
El jefe - the boss
Un pendejo - a dumbass
Maldita sea - goddamn it
Buen provecho, Jefe - Enjoy your meal, boss
Que chingada - what bullshit/wtf
Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan! - Are you an idiot? They almost ran you over!
No hablas espanol? - You don't speak Spanish
Estoy bien - I'm fine
Que dice el juez - What does the judge say?
¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto - Liar! You say it as if it was the last coca-cola in the desert
Una coca - A Coca Cola
Si la tienes - If you have it
Que en paza descanse - may she rip
Lanzarla las chanclas poderosas - she'll release her powerful flip-flops
Y si no me gustan? - And if I don't like it?
No seas tonto - Don't be silly/dumb
673 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Bars Between Us
Sebastian Sallow x MC
Oneshot AU in which Sebastian was sent to Azkaban despite Ominis and MC (named Dracaena in this fic because it’s my current favourite name) trying to keep his secrets. Ominis and Dracaena spent the next several years trying to free him, and eventually succeed. Sebastian is not the same, Azkaban has sapped him of everything he once was, but a little TLC from the woman he has always loved sets him back on track.
Word Count – 8.6k
Warnings – Angst, traumatised Sebastian, aftermath of Azkaban, engaged Ominis/MC, Ominis approves MC sleeping with Seb, seriously Seb’s been through the wringer, Azkaban is horrible, nursing Seb back to health, smut (MDNI), handjob M!receiving, oral M!receiving, sub!Sebastian, MC feels a bit guilty bc her boy is a wreck
Six years.
It had been six years since the terrible events of fifth year, and six years since Sebastian had stood trial for the murder of Solomon Sallow. Six years since he was sentenced to life in Azkaban.
Six years since Dracaena and Ominis had scrambled to find out who had condemned him, and vowed to make it right.
No sooner had they left Hogwarts, not able to fully appreciate the finality of riding the little boats across the Black Lake towards Hogsmeade station, leaving behind the place in which they had matured into adults, leaving behind the wonders and horrors in equal parts, that they both signed up for jobs at the Ministry for Magic, working in Magical Law Enforcement, searching for some kind of loophole, some kind of law, some kind of anything that would get their best friend released from hell.
After four agonising years, they managed it. Together, pouring over paperwork by candlelight until the small hours for months, they built a solid defence, their unwavering logic and staunch reasoning standing up to the needlepoint scrutiny of the powers that be. Of course, they knew it was a long shot all the same. The Ministry simply didn’t care about extenuating circumstances, considering those incarcerated to be less than human, doomed to serve their time no matter what new evidence came to light.
Ominis had to throw his weight around a bit. Subtle, hissed threats, muttered warnings and an overuse of his famous glare and family name eventually frightened enough people to get those with the ability to make changes to listen. And then Dracaena came in, her fame and her charm the honey to Ominis’ salt, making promises she never intended to keep, assuring those too nervous to make the jump to support them, doing favours that left an unsavoury taste in the back of her throat.
All of it proved worth it in the end. Sebastian’s release papers were handed over, and Dracaena packed a small bag.
“I’ll be a week,” she said to Ominis. “They want him to stay in a sort of halfway house for a while, to make sure he’s not going to go mental and start hexing everyone in sight. Personally, I’m just glad he’s going to get some time to start readjusting to life outside.” She tilted her head. “Won’t you come with me?”
“Best not,” Ominis said, for the fiftieth time, his patience unending. “I don’t want to overwhelm him, and you’ve always known how to calm him down when he gets too… well.”
She chuckled lightly. “That’s assuming he’s not a complete wreck. I hope it’s not affected him too badly.”
“Dove… he’s going to be very different to what we remember,” Ominis replied, resting a hand on her shoulder as she folded her clothes. “He won’t be the Sebastian we knew.”
“I know,” she raised her hand to his, smiling as he looped his other arm around her belly and held her tight. She tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder as he brushed a kiss over her cheek. “I hope he’s forgiven us for not doing more sooner.”
“He’ll have forgiven you,” Ominis said. “He always had a soft spot for you. I rather expect, even after all this time, that he’s still in love with you.”
Dracaena kept her silence. She and Ominis had naturally fallen together towards the end of their sixth year of Hogwarts, their shared experiences and pain leading them to comfort one another, she taking Sebastian and Anne’s place as Ominis’ refuge from his family, moving in together once they’d left the school. In a small way, she was surprised it had taken him as long as it had to propose, presenting her with an elegant ring of emerald and diamond set in white gold six months ago. She’d accepted gladly, though a tiny part of her mourned what that meant for Sebastian.
She loved Ominis with all her heart and more. She adored his gentleness, his respect, his kindness and consideration. She admired his steel, the restrained fury with which he dealt with their enemies, both inside and outside of work, his searing wit and boundless intelligence. She relished his talent as a wizard, and fell in love with him over and over again with each morning they woke beside each other, still spent from their passions, safe in each other’s arms.
But she still loved Sebastian.
Ominis tightened his arm around her.
“It’s alright,” he whispered. “I know how you felt about him. I know how you feel. If things hadn’t ended the way they did, I would have expected the pair of you to be married by now.” He brushed a hand over her hair. “Dracaena… he’s my best friend. I want him to stay with us. We have the room, and he’d be safer than if he was just left to try and survive by himself after all he will have been through. I know you and him well enough to know you’re drawn to each other.”
“But I’m yours,” she whispered, moving his hand to brush over her ring. “Remember?”
He shrugged. “I know. I trust you. I know that if you said nothing would happen between you, I would believe you because it would be true. But you’d be unhappy. You both would. I know you’re not going to leave me for him, Dracaena, but I know you also make each other happy. He’s going to need all the love and support he can get once he’s out. I’d hope that you can give that to him.”
She tilted her head. “Ominis… are you giving me permission to… play away with your best friend?”
He chuckled. “Don’t cheapen it,” his elegant fingers found her cheek, tilting her head so he could kiss her full. “I’m telling you that if you two happen to come together again, I support it. Didn’t you once tell me you’d have liked it if you could have had us both?”
“I was drunk!” she protested, giggling as he dug his fingers into her ribs, ticking her gently. “You can’t use that against me!”
“I can and will,” he laughed, holding her tight. “I mean it, Dracaena. I don’t mind at all, so long as it’s only him. He’s my brother as far as I’m concerned, and I trust you both.”
“You might regret it,” Dracaena warned.
“If I do, we’ll talk about it, and find a way to resolve it,” he said, releasing her at last. “Go on now, you need to get to the dock. Send me an owl once he’s settled.”
“I will.”
He brushed a hand over her cheek. “See you in a week. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
_.-~*~-._
The sky was a stormy grey, and the waves below were similarly sullen. They crashed against the side of the boat, sending salty sprays onto the deck as if it was their mission to knock the vessel off course.
Dracaena sat between two stern faced Aurors, her hands folded in her lap. She’d left her bag at the halfway house, a modest, three-roomed bungalow surrounded by similar buildings, grey bricked and dour looking. She had perched on one of the rickety chairs by the small, circular dining table as one of the Aurors explained to her that Sebastian would be under careful watch for the first year following his release, and any missteps would see him sent right back to Azkaban.
She’d only half listened as he went over an itemised list for what she should do during her week’s stay at the halfway house, pinning a sheet of parchment to the wall with the details. She was only to feed him small meals, as he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything more. Nothing rich, nothing too fatty, and no alcohol. She’d frowned, asking why.
“Because the prisoners don’t tend to eat,” he’d said, gruffly. “The dementors have to force them in order to keep them alive.”
She’d shivered then, and she shivered now, remembering. They weren’t allowed to leave the halfway house, except for at specific times each day to walk around the complex for ten minutes at a time, to build up his strength. She had to write a detailed report at the end of each day to give to the Aurors, describing their conversations and activities. She was sternly warned that if she didn’t, there would be Trouble. Said Trouble was left unspecified, and she didn’t have the heart to ask.
Dracaena shifted, watching as something huge, angular and black began to rise from the waves, impossibly tall, impossibly wide, made entirely of stone. Only a few small windows lay in the surface, like knife wounds in flesh. Her hands tightened in her lap as dread began to seep under her skin, a visceral fear prickling over her neck and shoulders. She was only going to be there for a short time, to bring her best friend home. She couldn’t imagine how Sebastian would have felt, seeing that pillar of misery approach, believing he would never leave.
She loosed a soft breath, eyeing the distant, tattered black shapes swooping around outside it. He would leave. He would leave with her, and everything would be alright.
The boat approached a yawning cavern at the base of the prison, the Aurors casting a Patronus each, a mouse and a raven. There was a dock in the cavern, the blackness chased away by sparsely placed sconces in the damp, glistening walls. Standing there waiting was a hunched little man, balding on top with buck teeth and a sickly smile. He had a Patronus as well, something that looked like a cross between an ailing puppy and a wall-eyed rat.
Dracaena stepped off the boat, shivering, the feeling of dread still creeping under her clothes and caressing her skin. She set her jaw, drew her wand, and cast a Patronus of her own.
An elegant panther touched its paws to the stone, gazing around imperiously as the Aurors and the little man raised their brows, the dread vanishing from her chest as if it had never been. From the shadows around the walls, several rattling voices gurgled and hissed, as if angry.
“Where is he?” she demanded.
“Cell 506,” the little man said, rubbing his hands together with a grin that seemed entirely too cheerful for such a place. “Follow me, my dear.”
The patronuses cast silvery blue light on the walls as they ascended a surprisingly wide staircase, their footsteps echoing. Reaching the first floor, the little man produced a set of keys and unlocked a heavy, barred door.
“No need for magic here,” he cackled. “No one’s got their wands, have they?”
They strode into a cell block, and Dracaena recoiled. The scent of filth was overwhelming, but it was the sounds that chilled her. Her Patronus flickered, moving to stand beside her as desperate sobs filled her ears, tortured cries and garbled, gibbering wails singing in a hellish harmony that echoed off the walls.
The sounds died down as the little man and the Aurors encouraged her on, and though she tried to face forward, to ignore the figures in the cells, she couldn’t help but notice how they scrambled towards the bars, their bony, wasted hands reaching through, stretching for the patronuses as the tattered shadows of the dementors fled their presence. The screams began again as they passed, somehow more agonised than before.
They repeated this four more times, ascending rapidly narrowing staircases and emerging into a new cell block, climbing higher and higher, taunting the prisoners with the promise of relief from their misery in their passing. With each step, Dracaena’s heart beat just a little faster, her grip on her wand increasing, the hackles on her panther Patronus rising as she bared her teeth.
By the time they reached the fifth floor, her palms were sweating. How different would he be? Would the Sebastian she knew and loved still be there, somewhere? Would his eyes still sparkle with the mischief he was so adept at making, at once sliding into fury when he was challenged, and softening whenever he looked at her? She knew he’d be different. He’d look different. He’d act different. But she had to believe he was still there.
No matter her provisions, in the following years, Dracaena didn’t think there was anything on earth that could have prepared her for what she saw when she finally reached Sebastian’s cell.
Unlike so many of the other prisoners, he wasn’t screaming or crying, and he didn’t rush to the bars to feel the passing warmth of the patronuses. He huddled by the wall, next to a narrow mattress and ratty blanket laid directly on the floor. His hair was halfway down to his elbows, thick and matted, almost black with grime. He was dressed as they all were, in a filthy pair of striped trousers and shirt, and they hung loose on his frame. His head was on his arms, resting on his knees, drawn to his chest. The hand she could see was almost skeletal, every inch of boyish puppy fat stripped from his body. His nails were bitten to the quick and filthy, as were his bare feet.
Dracaena raised a hand to the bars, her heart shattering as she took him in, watching as he shivered.
“See, he’s one of the tough ones,” the little man said, with a chuckle. “Just keeps to himself, terribly well behaved. Shame to see him go, really.”
Dracaena tightened her grip on her wand to the point she thought it might snap. She turned to the little man, letting her expression say everything she dared not voice, for if she opened her mouth, she would likely find herself in a cell of her own. The little man seemed to understand, because his sick grin slipped, and he hurried to unlock the cell door. She barged him out the way before he’d even pulled the key from the lock, striding inside and falling to her knees before the broken man she had loved.
“Sebastian?” she whispered, her Patronus sitting in front of the door and glowering. He didn’t move. “Sebastian, it’s time to go.”
He stirred, his fingers tightening on his sleeve. She reached out, brushing a hand over his arm, and he flinched.
“Bassy,” she whispered, the pet name she’d given him both foreign and familiar on her tongue. He tensed, finally raising his head. His chocolate eyes, once so full of life, were dull and defeated above hollow cheeks and a beard that reached his collar. Even so he was familiar to her, the rampant freckles scattering his skin like constellations a siren call to their bond. He blinked, focusing, and didn’t say a word.
“Bassy, it’s time to go,” she said again, cupping his cheek, sliding her thumb over the protruding bone, her fingers winding into the thatch of hair at the back of his neck. He flinched away again, his expression becoming fearful, his eyes darting around the cell.
“Happens sometimes,” the little man said sullenly from beyond the bars. “They forget who they are. Forget who they knew. He’s not said a word in five years, so don’t expect him to. He probably thinks this is some kind of joke.”
She shot another glare that could melt steel through the bars, then shifted her position, grasping Sebastian by the arms and standing, heaving him to his feet.
He came up with almost no resistance, and she staggered, almost flinging him into the air, horrified by how light he was. He made a small sound of muted alarm as he left the floor.
“I’m sorry,” she said, relaxing her grip. She grabbed for him again when he slumped, his legs refusing to support his weight. She glanced through the bars again as the Aurors stirred.
“We’ll have to drag him,” one said. “Prisoners sometimes forget how to walk, or they just don’t have the will.”
“You’re not dragging anybody,” she spat. She looped an arm around Sebastian’s back, bending to catch his legs, lifting him in her arms like a child. He tensed, then slumped, his head lolling against her shoulder. He was so light, so alarmingly fragile, as if he was made of parchment, ready to tear apart at the slightest movement. Her heart broke again, and her Patronus flickered as she cradled him. Without another word, she marched from the cell, heading for the doors, the other prisoners gibbering as she passed, begging her to take them too, to leave her Patronus, to kill them. She paid them no mind, focusing on holding Sebastian tight to her chest, his feet swinging, his breath rushing over her neck. His hands were folded on his stomach, and one of them slid to her, pinching the fabric of her cloak, then holding gently.
She held him all the way to the dock, refusing to release her grip as she settled back on the boat. She raised a hand to his hair, gently running over the back of his head. It left streaks of grime on her fingers, but she didn’t care. A deep, boiling anger simmered in her chest. Anger for what he’d been put through. Anger that anyone was forced to endure such a hellish place. But mostly, she was furious with herself for allowing this to happen, furious with Ominis for knowing what Azkaban was like, and letting him be taken anyway, the word of some unknown person sealing his fate.
It didn’t matter that they’d spent the next six years trying to find a way to free him. The damage had been done. She felt it in his trembling breath, in the way he held onto her cloak so gently, knowing in her bones that it was the tightest grip he could muster. She wrapped her arms around him more securely, resting her cheek against his forehead, whispering soft words of comfort as her collar grew sodden with his silent tears.
_.-~*~-._
Dracaena carried Sebastian over the threshold of the halfway house in much the same way a groom carries his bride. She wasn’t blind to the imagery, and wondered if Ominis would do the same to her once they were married. Would he be able to navigate if his hands were full of her body and not his wand? Probably. He was astonishingly capable, to the point she often wondered if his blindness really was total, like he said. Perhaps he had some Seer blood in him that aided him. It would certainly go a long way to explain how he always seemed to know everything, even things he shouldn’t know.
She kicked the door shut in the faces of the Aurors that had accompanied them.
She eyed the living room of the halfway house, the low sofa facing the kitchenette and dining table. Through one of the doors was a little bedroom, and through the other was a tiny, cramped bathroom. It was towards this that she headed, conjuring a low seat, in which she deposited Sebastian. He was unresponsive as she stood back with a light sigh, gazing down at him and eyeing the stains left on her robes.
She pulled off her cloak and overrobes, standing before him in a simple pair of trousers and vest top, tossing her robes through the still open door, before kneeling down in front of him.
“First order of business,” she said, softly. “We’re here for a week, Bassy. We’ve got a to-do list, but I’ll take care of it as best I can. I’ll need your help, though. Can you do that for me?”
His throat worked a moment, then he gave a tiny, barely perceptible nod. Dracaena loosed a soft breath. At least he was listening to her.
“I think you’d feel a lot better after a shower,” she said, keeping her tone low and soothing. “Would you like that?”
Another miniscule nod.
“Can you take care of that, or would you like some help?”
No response to that. She tilted her head, waiting, her hands on his knees, until he glanced at her, his eyes lighting on hers and flicking away again like a moth fluttering about a lantern. They were still dull and hollow, curtained by the matted strands of his hair. She reached up and brushed a hand over it.
“I think we need to give you a haircut,” she said. “I can’t think of a single brush that can save it, I’m afraid, it's too tangled. Can I cut your hair for you? And maybe this?” she ran her hand over the wild beard. “Much as I think a beard suits you, it could do with a trim, don’t you think?”
A tiny nod, ever so slightly more vigorous than the last. She smiled, and reached behind her, fumbling in the cabinet for scissors.
“I’ll save what I can,” she said, taking a ropey strand of his hair between her fingers. “I can’t imagine you’d enjoy being bald.”
A miniscule exhalation. She tilted her head.
“Was that a laugh, darling?”
He didn’t answer, but leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder. She set the scissors aside a moment and wrapped her arms around his back, alarmed to feel the bones of his spine poking through his skin. She held him gently until his arms rose, gripping the back of her top with a featherlight touch. He shivered, his breath trembling on the exhale. She held him tighter, pressing her cheek to his.
“It’s alright,” she murmured, circling her hand over his back. “You’re safe, Bassy. You’re out. You’re not going back there, okay? Once we’ve done what we have to here, you’re going to come and live with me and Ominis. We’ll look after you.”
She felt his jaw clench a moment, then he sat back, meeting her eyes properly for the first time. He held her gaze a long moment, before it dropped to her hands, resting on his knees again. He touched her ring, his skeletal fingers brushing over the emeralds and diamonds. He sighed, seemingly caving in on himself.
“Congratulations,” he said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it over the rasp of his throat.
She could have cried, then. God only knew what he’d been thinking when he was trapped in that cell. Had he been hoping she’d come for him? That she’d have waited for him? Had he tortured himself with thoughts of other people getting close to her, loving her? Had he known on some level that she and Ominis would end up together, engaged, and soon to be married? Had he loved her as she loved him once, and wished it was he that slid the ring onto her finger?
What would he think if she told him of Ominis’ offer?
“Thank you,” she said. Best not to overload him. She should have taken her ring off, but it was too late for that now. She raised a hand to his hair again. “I… I’ll be honest, I’ve never done this before. It won’t be a brilliant job, but it’ll help.”
He gave another miniscule nod, and closed his eyes. She gazed at him a while longer, then picked up the scissors, sliding them through the matted tangle of his hair before closing them with a decisive snick.
_.-~*~-._
Shorn of his beard and most of his hair, Sebastian was beginning to look a little more like himself, though his face was terribly gaunt, his cheeks hollow, the sharp lines of his jaw standing out above his brittle neck. Dracaena vanished the pile of hair with a flick of her wand, then reached over to the bathtub, turning on the shower and holding her hand in the stream until it warmed to a comfortable temperature.
“Shall I leave you to it?” she asked. “I can give you some privacy.”
He didn’t answer, his hollow gaze turned inward, slumping slightly in his chair. She took his chin and tilted his face to hers, waiting until his eyes focused. “Bassy, do you want me to help?”
He blinked, slowly, his gaze turning distant again. With a light sigh, Dracaena lowered her fingers to the buttons of his shirt, slowly prying them open, one by one. At each, she paused, looking at him until he gave a tiny nod. She withheld a wince with some difficulty as she gently pulled it from his shoulders, able to see each rib through his skin, streaked with grime. Her heart broke a third time.
“Can you stand?” she asked, gently. “We should get these off too.” She touched the leg of his trousers. He didn’t answer, so she tucked her hands under his arms and rose, bringing him with her. He leaned against her, his arms rising to clutch at her back again as she nimbly undid the drawstring. The clothing crumpled straight to the floor, far too large for his frame. She averted her eyes, helping him step under the stream of warm water, lowering him to sit, and he drew his knees to his chest.
How many times in her fifth year had she wondered what he’d look like under his robes? Countless times, lying awake at night, or daydreaming in class. Now he was here it felt somehow wrong, like a violation to take the opportunity to drink in his form when he was so vulnerable. So she didn’t look, focusing on his face as his short hair plastered to his scalp, the water turning black as it streamed over his skin. She pressed a washcloth into his hands, and he held it, but made no further move.
“Come on darling,” she murmured. “Help me out a little bit?”
No response. With a soft smile, she picked up another washcloth and slid it over his back, applying light pressure to the more stubborn patches of dirt. Sebastian closed his eyes, resting his head on his crossed arms as she soaped his back, his grip on his own cloth tightening a little. And even though she resisted, scolding herself silently, Dracaena couldn’t help but look at him properly. Under the steadily vanishing grime, his back and shoulders were as freckled as his face, fading the further her eyes travelled down his spine and arms. He was a lot paler than she remembered, but then he’d gone from an outdoorsy, adventurous nerd to a prisoner in a cell, not a speck of natural light to be found. She’d have to make sure there was a decent spot in the garden for him to relax, once they were all home.
She nibbled her lip, glancing at his slender thighs, once thick. No freckles there. A few on his calves, none on his feet. She wrenched her gaze away before it strayed any further, and she slipped a hand under his chin, tilting his head back so she could get to his hair. He closed his eyes with a tiny sigh as she rubbed suds through the thick strands, massaging his scalp gently until she was sure every speck of dirt was gone. She pressed a hand to his collarbone.
“Sit up straight, darling,” she whispered. “I need to get to your chest.”
He acquiesced, leaning back until he overbalanced. Dracaena caught him with a startled yelp, an arm around his back, spluttering a little as her head and shoulders entered the shower stream. His legs stretched out as he slumped against her arm, his head turning to her shoulder, his eyes still closed. She caught her breath, blinking water out of her eyes.
“You alright?”
A tiny nod.
She took a breath, and keeping her gaze firmly fixed above his waistline, she moved the cloth over his torso, trying not to admire the fine hair dusting his chest, focusing on removing every speck of dirt she could see. She took her time, because at some point, she was going to have to try to convince him, again, to help himself. There was only so far she could reasonably go when he was so out of it, despite what Ominis had said.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to look, or to touch… to taste. It wasn’t that she had any problems in taking care of Sebastian in whatever way he needed. It was that he was fresh out of Azkaban, barely four hours free, still confused and addled and traumatised and broken, and she couldn’t assume that he would want anything to do with her at all.
It was still difficult. She shifted, her arm around his back, propping him up as she gripped his shoulder, his head resting against hers, flipping her sodden hair out of her face, her top already soaked. She circled the cloth over his chest a final time, sliding it over his nipple, and he groaned.
The sound was so soft that she thought for a moment she’d imagined it. She paused, swallowed, and repeated the movement. He sighed, tucking his head more firmly against her shoulder, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a stirring.
Dracaena closed her eyes, willing herself to cool the heat rising from under her collar. She was his friend, that was all, helping him after a terrible ordeal. She couldn’t possibly take advantage of him, not now, not when he was vulnerable and needed her to help him. He wasn’t in his right mind. She had to be strong for them both. In time, perhaps she could, but…
She steeled herself and returned to the job at hand, sliding a bar of soap over his stomach and following it with the cloth. The water ran clear over his body, though it still pooled brown and grimy by his feet and legs, and-
She wrenched her eyes back up, glaring at the pale tiles of the bathroom wall.
“You going to give me a hand?” she asked. “I’m getting soaked.”
Again, no response. He slumped against her, his breathing perhaps a little quicker than before. Hardening herself, Dracaena took the washcloth to his thighs, scrubbing perhaps a little firmer than she had before, tucking a hand under his knee to bring his leg closer so she could still support him. Her back was beginning to ache, bent over the bath as she was, but she ignored the dull fire spreading under her shoulder blades, focusing on her task. All the same, she couldn’t help but notice how he shifted, widening his legs with another soft sigh, his hand sliding over her back to grip at her shoulder as she worked. She slid the cloth over the inside of his thigh, and a soft, almost strangled whimper passed his lips as he tilted towards her.
Dracaena had endured many trials in her life. Stopping a goblin rebellion, defeating a power-crazed, dragon-transformed lunatic set on killing her, as well as countless attacks from poachers and Ashwinders, defeating a powerful Dark Wizard in single combat and more. So much more. Still, if anyone had asked her in the later years what she found the most difficult trial of all, she would have said in a heartbeat that ignoring Sebastian’s throbbing erection as she washed him was among the top three.
She did steal a glance or five. She was only human, after all. And by God, he was beautiful. Not quite as long as Ominis, but thicker, a darker shade, the lush pink of Ominis’ love more a light burgundy with Sebastian, and the way he rested against his stomach, his toes curling as the shower stream rushed over him was more intoxicating than heroin. There was nothing more that she wanted than to wrap her hand around his length and draw him to the edge of bliss, to let him revel in the delights so long denied him, to hear him moan and whimper her name…
Again, Ominis’ assurances that he was not only fine with her playing away with Sebastian, but that he expected it ran through her mind. She loosed a soft breath as she moved the washcloth to his hips, his grip increasing on her arm as his breathing rushed past her ear. She set her jaw.
She couldn’t.
“I need to get some things ready,” she said, firmly. “Finish up, Bassy, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She waited until his grip on her arm loosened, helping him sit upright. It pained her to leave him alone, huddled and defenceless as she strode for the door, wringing water from her hair and drying it with a wave of her wand. But she had to. God and Merlin only knew what she would have done otherwise. He was too fresh, too vulnerable. How could she take advantage of him like that? How could she even think it?
Biting her lip, she settled at the small table and drew parchment and quill towards her, penning a short note.
My darling Ominis,
Sebastian is with me in the halfway house, and all things considered, he’s as well as he can be. I don’t want to alarm you, but he’s lost a lot of weight and isn’t very responsive, and I expect it will take some time before he’s better. You were right, he’s not as we remember, but I feel the old Sebastian is still there, somewhere.
I miss you. I love you. I can’t wait to be home with you.
Dracaena.
She wanted to add another line, clarifying that Ominis had meant what he said, hoping he would change his mind, for if he demanded she remain solely his it would be easier to deny the stirrings she felt for Sebastian. But he wouldn’t deny her, he wouldn’t refuse. He’d almost been insistent.
She sealed the letter instead, opening the door and beckoning the owl perched nearby. It took the note in its beak and flew off, soon lost amongst the clouds. She took a breath, noting the dark figures leaning against the walls of the surrounding buildings, the curtains twitching in windows. She made a face and retreated back inside. Christ, with the number of Aurors surrounding them, it was almost like Sebastian was a mass-murdering lunatic, not a broken man who had paid a price far dearer than the death of his horrible uncle warranted.
She tilted her head as the sounds of running water from the bathroom shut off. She waited as a shadow moved beyond the open door. It seemed that Sebastian could get about by himself if he needed to. That was good. She moved to the kitchenette, opening the cupboards and grimacing. Simple foods like porridge oats, rounds of dark bread and rice nestled beside tins of nondescript meat and vegetables huddled on the shelves. Dull fare for certain, and she wished she could use her Ancient Magic to conjure something more palatable, but it didn’t work that way. Sebastian had always been fond of sweet things, and there wasn’t a gram of sugar to be found.
She pulled a few items down and set about making a simple meal of white fish and rice with a side of green beans, careful not to make too much. He’d need time to adjust to eating real food again, and she had no idea what he’d been forced to eat behind bars.
Dracaena turned at a slight noise to find Sebastian standing in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning heavily against the frame, a towel around his waist. He gave her the beginnings of a tired, shy smile, only the corners of his mouth twitching. She left the saucepan and rushed to him.
“There’s clothes in the bedroom,” she said, leading him, an arm around his waist as he slumped against her. “We’ll have some dinner and get you settled for the night, yeah?”
He nodded, a firmer, more decisive action than before. Depositing him on the bed, which creaked, she ferreted around in the old wardrobe, bringing out a selection of shirts and trousers.
“Any preference, or are you not fussy?”
He blinked slowly, his eyes on her, seemingly indifferent about the clothes in her hands. With a shrug, she picked out a dark shirt and pair of trousers, leaving them on the bed.
“I’ll leave you to it, darling, if you need-”
His hand found hers, and she paused, turning to him, finding the corners of his eyes glimmering.
His lips parted, his throat working a moment before his voice found its way out, hushed and rasping.
“This… is real? You’re… really here?”
She knelt before him, taking both his hands in hers.
“Of course it’s real,” she whispered. “Bassy… Ominis and I have spent the last six years trying to find a way to free you. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, you didn’t deserve Azkaban. You’re coming home with us, and you’ll never go back, alright?”
He nodded again, a tiny smile touching his lips.
“You… got me out?”
“I’m sorry it took so long,” she said. “We had to bully a lot of people, rewrite some laws, and build a case. It took ages, Bassy, but we never gave up. We just wanted you home with us.”
“And…” he drew a breath, as if the act of speaking fatigued him beyond all reason. “Anne?”
Dracaena hesitated. She knew this would come up, but she’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. The reason for his fighting, the reason for his research, the reason for his mistake. How could she tell him that the curse that plagued his sister had taken her life three years ago?
It would break him. Destroy him in ways that Azkaban never could.
“Time enough for that later,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “What’s important right now is getting you back on your feet, alright?”
It was a poor answer, and she knew it. Sebastian had never been one to let things lie, least of all something as important as his twin, whom she had buried with Ominis on a beautiful hill overlooking Feldcroft on a blossom-strewn spring morning, the pair of them shedding silent tears not just for the senseless loss of life, but because it meant everything Sebastian had sacrificed had been for nothing. But Sebastian didn’t question her further, merely nodding again and releasing her hands, reaching for the clothes.
Dracaena returned to the kitchen in time to put out a small fire that had started in the pan. She swore and pulled out another tin of white fish, vanishing the blackened mess with a wave of her wand.
Sebastian joined her at the small table not long after, clinging to the walls and countertops to support himself until she hurried over, pulling his arm over her shoulders. Though his first mouthful of food was hesitant, he soon fell upon it like a man starved, going so far as to toss his fork aside and eat with his hands. Once he was done, he held himself still, staring at his plate before the hollowness returned to his eyes, and he withdrew into himself, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, staring at nothing as Dracaena pushed her plate aside, her appetite quite gone.
“You should sleep,” she said, softly. She rose and took his hand, drawing him to his feet and tucking an arm around his waist, leading him to the bedroom. She sat him down, helping him unbutton his shirt, pausing as she reached the hilt of his trousers.
“There’s… there’s pyjamas and things in the wardrobe,” she said. “I can get them for you?”
Sebastian didn’t answer, his eyes dragging with tiredness, but his hand snared hers as she rose.
“Stay?” he rasped. “Please?”
It took every ounce of her self-control to refuse.
“You’ll be alright,” she said. “You’re safe here, Bassy.”
His throat worked a moment, and he nodded, his hand sliding from her grip. Dracaena returned to the living room, setting the dinner things to wash and settling down on the sofa, conjuring a blanket and removing her clothes, lying down in just her underthings.
Ominis was on her mind as she settled to sleep, wishing he was here with her. She longed to feel his elegant arms around her, to reassure her, to comfort her as she wept silently for all the pain their dearest friend had endured.
_.-~*~-._
Dracaena work to darkness and agonised, desperate screams.
She bolted from the sofa, her heart in her throat as she tore towards the sound, her mind conjuring horrors beyond mortal imagining as she burst into the bedroom. Sebastian was huddled in a corner, his arms splayed against the walls, his knees drawn to his chest, his eyes wild as he tried to press himself through the brick and plaster, cowering away from something she couldn’t see.
“Sebastian!” she dashed over, grabbing for his shoulders, and he lashed out, howling, the side of his hand connecting with her temple, and she saw stars. Shaking herself, she grabbed for him again as he fought against her, yelling wordlessly. “Sebastian, it’s me! It’s alright! Calm down, please!”
He pushed back against the wall, soft, keening sounds wrenching from his throat, his eyes unseeing as she wrapped her arms around him, gasping comforting words into his ear. Eventually, his arms rose to encircle her, burying his face in her shoulder and weeping helplessly.
“It’s alright…” she murmured. “It’s alright, darling. There’s nothing here that can hurt you. You’re safe.”
Sebastian just cried, clinging to her as she settled on his thighs, wishing she could hold him tighter, wishing she had more arms to wrap around him, to hold him more securely than she could, her hand circling over his back, the other wound into his hair as he sobbed into her shoulder.
“It was just a nightmare, darling,” she murmured. “That’s all. Nothing more. You’re alright.”
It took a long time before Sebastian was able to calm down, his frightened sobs becoming whimpers, quietening to harsh breaths as he grasped at her back, shivering so hard she thought he could power a small house.
“What was it?” Dracaena asked, leaning back a little and cupping his face. “Darling, what did you see?”
He shook his head, his face tear-stained, pulling her back to him and resting his head against her shoulder again.
“I-I’m… sorry,” he managed.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she assured him. “Bassy, I’ve no idea what you’ve been through, but I’m here to help you. Tell me what you need.”
“Stay… with me,” he whimpered, holding her as tight as he could, though the strength of his arms was little more than strands of silk. “Please, Drac… Don’t leave me alone.”
With a muted nod, she tucked her hands under his arms again, levering him upright and guiding him to the bed, laying him down and tucking him in, before settling atop the covers. Sebastian turned over, his arm looping over her side.
“Will… you be… warm enough?” he whispered.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Get some rest, love, I’ll be right here.”
“Come under,” he insisted, snuggling closer to her. “Please, Drac. I… I haven’t touched… another person in… years. I… I-I need to be close… to you.”
She hesitated, and Sebastian huddled up to her, his hands tight at her back, his skin fire against hers.
“Drac… I-I’m sorry, I-I know you’re… with Ominis, I don’t want… to upset you… or spoil that. I-I just need… to be close to you… please. I don’t want to be alone.”
Setting her jaw, Dracaena slid under the covers, wrapping her arms around him as he snuggled into her, his head against her collarbone, his body pressed to hers, almost as though he needed to become a part of her, to meld his flesh with hers, the pads of his fingers digging into her back.
She held him tight as he shivered, wishing she could take the pain he suffered and draw it into herself to shield him from the horrors he had endured. But she couldn’t. She could only lie there, holding him, stroking his hair as he pressed his face between her breasts, his skeletal frame wracked with shudders as guilt seared through every fibre of her being. She pulled him closer, and he groaned softly.
Dracaena couldn’t ignore the hardness that pressed against her, as much as she wanted to. Despite Ominis’ assurances, she needed to be strong, to show him she cared for Sebastian as more than just a vessel for carnal pleasure. She didn’t need that. As she was with Ominis, her own bliss mattered less than that of her partner, her delight being in when she brought him to the edge of paradise and sent him over, soaring on clouds of ecstasy. Would it be so wrong to gift the same to Sebastian, when her fiancée had condoned it?
Sebastian groaned softly, the tip of his erection nudging against the soft flesh of her abdomen, straining against his pyjamas. He nuzzled against her breasts, only the thin lace separating their skin. Dracaena drew a soft breath. No matter her concerns, perhaps this was what he needed. Had she not vowed to care for him, no matter what he needed? Her hand slid over his side, over the ridges of his ribs, gliding over the hollow between them and his hip, coming to rest on the sharp protrusion of bone. Sebastian whimpered softly, tilting his body towards her hand.
“Are you sure?” she breathed. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes…” he whispered, the word ragged, forged from a throat too unused to speaking. “Please…”
Still she hesitated, preferring to caress his body, worried that it would be too much for him, worried that no matter his assurances, Ominis would be hurt if she allowed herself to indulge, but Sebastian clung to her, the little strength he had poured into pulling her closer.
“Drac…” he whined softly, writhing against her as her hand sculpted over his chest and stomach. “Please, Drac… please, make me feel human again. Please, please touch me… please… I’ll do anything… I just… I need to feel alive again.”
And hell, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to make him feel good after everything he’d been through. She cupped his cheek, turning his face to hers, pressing her lips to his with a softness akin to featherdown and satin. But he responded with fire and fury, his hand clamping against the back of her head, pressing her close as his lips worked magic over hers, scattering the last of her restraint as she wrenched him to her.
His breath came in sharp gasps as she pushed his clothing aside, her hand dipping down to caress the length of him. He tensed, a low moan rising from his throat as she graced her hand along him, before his grip at her back tightened, and he flexed his hips, thrusting into her palm, each movement accompanied by a gasp.
“Please,” he whimpered. “Make me feel good, make me feel right… make me feel real, Drac, please.”
Dracaena sealed her lips to his, drawing his breath into her and sending it back as heaven and light, her hand gliding along his throbbing length, her movements careful and controlled. Sebastian loosed a long, deep moan that seemed to rise from the bottom of his lungs, as if such a sound had been too long caged and finally set free. He sank back to the pillows, his limited strength seemingly spent, his eyes rolling back as his lashes fluttered, and she favoured him with kisses that peppered his face and chased over his neck, pausing only at his chest to swipe her tongue over his nipple. Sebastian groaned, his head rolling from side to side, one hand at her shoulder, the slight pressure increasing as she kissed down his taut stomach.
She could take him any way she wanted. She could pin him down and ravage him until he forgot his own name, she could bend him backward and bury his delicious cock in her throat, she could even turn him over and work a magic inside him that she was certain too few wizards had ever had the fortune to experience. But Dracaena bore down on her desires. Too much could break him. There would be months, years, perhaps, in which she could show him all the wonders she had learned since being with Ominis. She could show Ominis what she learned from Sebastian. She could learn from them both, together, but only if she treated them right.
Sebastian moaned like a starved whore when she flicked her tongue over the flushed head of his cock, his head pressing back into the pillows, his free hand grasping a fistful of the sheets as she slowly kissed along his length. She tucked a hand under his hips as she nuzzled the inside of his thighs, taking a moment to savour the desperate sounds pushed up from the depths of his being, the hand at her shoulder moving to the back of her head, his grip weak but insistent.
She couldn’t deny him any longer. Dracaena flattened her tongue against him and drew it slowly to the tip, already weeping with slick, crystal fluid, his ribs expanding and contracting with each rapid, short breath, his stomach hollowing as his hips bucked towards her. Her free hand found his, and she laced their fingers together as she took him into her mouth at last.
Seven years of longing couldn’t have prepared her for the feel of him against her lips, sliding over her tongue, invading her throat, the deliciousness of his fevered skin, the subtle, peppered tang of his love so similar and yet so different to the gentle salt and sugar of her Ominis. Sebastian’s back arched, his legs falling apart, his hand winding into her hair as his grip on her hand trembled, his thighs beginning to quiver as she flicked her tongue over the underside of his head, so sensitive after so many years of neglect, his voice a wordless song of ecstasy. She sealed her lips and drew them along his shaft, rewarded by a series of frantic moans that rose in fever and pitch. She wanted to pull back, to slow down, to make him wait, the dominant side of her fighting for control, but even she was not that cruel. Instead she bobbed her head faster and faster, lashing her tongue against him until he all but screamed, his hips rising from the bed as his back arched in a curve Fibonacci would be envious of, the beautiful, creamy thickness of his passion coating the cavern of her mouth.
Dracaena drained him of every drop as if her life depended on it, relishing the way he quivered and whined, his body tensing and relaxing with each new flick of her tongue until she raised her head at last, his pale, freckled skin flushed a gorgeous rose, an arm draped across his forehead. She slid up his body to lie beside him, brushing his hair back and wrapping her arms around him as he curled into her, panting.
“You okay?” she breathed, and he huffed a breathless laugh.
“If… if I’d have known… if I had to go… to Azkaban for that…” he nuzzled into her. “I’d have… gone… long ago.”
Dracaena chuckled softly, winding her hand through his hair as he relaxed against her.
“Drac,” he murmured. “I… should have… told you. Back then… I should have said…”
“Shh,” she whispered. “You need to sleep, love.”
“I know,” he replied, already drifting. “But… I should have said… I love you, Drac. I… I always have.”
She held him close.
“I love you too,” she breathed as he slipped into sleep. “Forever and always, I love you.”
Masterlist
Part 2
#hogwarts legacy#sebastian sallow#mc x sebastian sallow#sebastian smut#sebastian sallow smut#post azkaban sebastian#subastian
125 notes
·
View notes
Text
♡Daddy’s sunshine♡
time skip! Ushijima Wakatoshi and his daughter
Genre: fluff
Summary: Wakatoshi and parenthood
Note: Thank you so much for all the likes! I’m just here to give my boy Wakatoshi the recognition he deserves. I apologize if there’s any misspellings!
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
Little Megumi is about to turn 5 months and she changes everyday…
She’s now teething and she’s definitely more active, she giggles a lot and she is learning how to roll over her tummy and so.
You came back to work a couple of weeks ago, you are mostly working from home but sometimes you drop by the office at special times. And Wakatoshi is currently taking the season off, it’s easier for you to work mostly from home and he being at home helping with Megumi.
“Time for me to go” you said entering the kitchen with your bag in hand
“Don’t forget your bento…” your husband said while washing the dishes
“When did I get myself a trophy husband?” You said hugging your husband from the back and kissing his shoulder
“I thought I’ve always been one…” he said, making you laugh.
“I’ll come back around 4 or 5 pm” you said grabbing the the lunch bag with the bento your husband prepared for you.
“Have a good day, darling”
“You too…”
Once you turned around, you saw little Megumi on her high chair biting on her teething toy and Mochi was watching her while sitting on the counter next to her.
“See you later, my baby” you get closer to her and she immediately hold up her free hand, trying to touch you, only for you to kiss her chubby hand “mommy loves you” after that, you kissed her cheek multiple times and after petting Mochi too, you walked to the front door. “I’ll be out now”
“Take care!”
You put on your shoes and walked out the door.
After that, it was only Wakatoshi and Megumi (and Mochi of course).
You move he is done with the dishes, he starts making himself a protein shake so he can drink before his run.
“Once I’m done with his, we’ll go for our run, Megumi-chan…”
Since Megumi was 1 month old Wakatoshi started to take morning runs with her, he puts her in her stroller and go out for around an hour.
After a quick nappy change, getting her into some warmer clothes and making sure he had packed a change of clothes, her pacifier, a toy and anything that her daughter might need, they were ready to head out.
He would place a cover over the stroller to protect Megumi from the cold morning breeze, specially since the weather is getting a little cold and he likes to take very early runs because is less likely to be approach or recognize.
It felt so good to have even an hour to do something that he enjoyed back into his life. The last couple of months have been so intense, he would have never imagine something that is not an intense training session would be as exhausting as taking care of his daughter.
But it was all worth it, she was growing strong and healthy and only with the slightest glare at her, his days would get instantly better. She has some big lashes that he would stare at for hours and some chubby cheeks and hands he would kiss without getting tired. He never thought someone would be as close as perfect as you are but looking at his daughter made his heart beat with joy.
Like in this moment, he was simply starting at her while she slept soundly. He paid the combini onigiris he got for you and headed back home.
As he was almost getting home, Megumi started to get fuzzy, it was almost time to eat.
“we’re here Megumi-chan… hold on”
He hurried to get into the apartment and as soon as he was in, he started to prepare her bottle.
“You don’t need a nappy change too, right?”
As soon as he realized she didn’t, he check if the bottle was right and started feeding her while sitting on the couch.
“Thanks for eating so good…”
One she was done, he burped her and proceeded to rock her so she could take her first nap.
She would hold her hand up so she could touch her daddy’s face until her little eyes were closed.
Wakatoshi would place her on her automatic rocker and literally run to take a quick shower. He knew leaving the baby alone wasn’t the best option but he tried his best even without someone there to help.
Thank god, Megumi was sleeping peacefully when he came back and that gave him extra time to do some chores. Feed and play with Mochi, check some emails and even watch some volleyball matches’ recordings.
Once his little girl started to wake up, she demanded attention.
“Yes, yes, I’m here, baby…”
He took her out of her sit and she immediately stopped. She loves being with her dad.
“You good? What about some tummy time now?”
He place her face-up on her mat, and she immediately started to try to roll over.
“There you go, use your legs Megumi… Like we practiced” and as if she understood his words, she rolled over. “That’s it! Nice job Megumi-chan!” Seeing his daughter’s achievements was the best thing he has ever experienced, it made him feel as good as winning a match.
He saw how Mochi started approaching her and rubbing her head against Megumi’s. She loves the little human too.
The whole morning was filled with strength exercises for Megumi and a couple of nappy changes, until it was time for her second nap. Until then Wakatoshi stud-up and ate his lunch, some tonkatsu that was left and rice was enough.
Megumi was still sleeping so he decided to start preparing the dinner. He thought something easy and common will be fine. He prepared some miso soup, grilled fish with salad on the side and obviously some rice.
The was getting the rice cooker ready when he started to hear some fuss that turned into crying.
He looked over to the living room that was right in front of him and so his girl waking up, a little earlier than usual, maybe she needs another nappy change.
He hurried with the rice, washed his hands and rushed to pick up Megumi. And indeed, she needed to be changed.
“Just in time, baby. Mommy will be here soon and we ran out of nattō for her” without wasting any more time, he put her on her carrier, put a hat on her head, he doesn’t want to risk it and have her face all over the internet. Once they were ready, he walked to the closest konbini. Thankfully nobody approached him but he definitely got recognized by the cashier.
They came back quickly, he left the nattō on the counter and then left Megumi sitting on her mat again this time he laid down next to her and she immediately giggled and approached his face to hug it and gave him what looked like kisses, making her dad laugh. Not long after, the sound of the front door caught his attention.
“I’m home!” You sang while taking off your shoes.
“Welcome home!”
You walked into your house and found your husband laying on the floor with your baby smooching his face.
“What’s going on here?” You said giggling.
“Bonding time…” he answered.
Just by hearing your voice, Megumi started to coo and tried to reach her hands so you could pick her up.
“Megumi-Chan, Megumi-Chan!” You left your stuff on the counter and hurried to pick your daughter up “how are you, my love?” You kissed her head and hugged her “did you have fun with daddy?” She reached to touch your face and smiled “I can tell!” You kissed her again “I missed you so much…” you hugged her again.
“And me?” You heard your husband
“How could I not?” You approached him and held his face with one hand so you could kiss him “you worked hard, my love” he gave you a warm smile. Not late after, you felt something walking between your legs. “Hello, Mochi! Did you miss mommy too?” She meowed, making you laugh.
“You hungry? I fixed you some dinner”
“For real?” He nodded “thanks, my love!”
You three, walked to the kitchen and continued talking about the day.
And Wakatoshi could only look closely to you, holding his daughter while talking to her and explaining what was in the pots.
That a perfect sight… He couldn’t ask for anything better.
#ushijima fic#ushijima fluff#ushijima wakatoshi#ushijima wakatoshi fluff#ushijima wakatoshi x female reader#ushijima wakatoshi x reader#ushijima x reader#ushiwaka#wakatoshi#dad ushijima#ushijima wakatoshi imagine#ushijima and daughter#dad Wakatoshi#hq x reader#hq ushijima#hq fluff#hq dad
194 notes
·
View notes
Text
experience
part 1
matt sturniolo x reader
a/n: surprise 😋
summary: y/n heads off to college in a few weeks. the only problem? she knew next to nothing about any physical interactions. no sex. no kisses. nothing. so what happens when her best friend, matt, knows just the way to fix her dilemma?
reader pov
“matt i don’t even know what to pack” i look up at matt, who was laying on my bed, throwing my hands down in defeat as i sat with my suitcase open, clothes scattered all over the floor.
“i think you’ve got a good start.” he gestures to the items that were neatly folded inside the suitcase.
“this is stressful.” i sigh, rubbing my hands down my face.
“you’ll be alright. i promise” he assures me. i roll my eyes.
“you don’t know that.” i retort.
“yes i do. i wouldn’t promise you if i didn’t. what about it is stressing you out?” he turns his phone down and adjusts his position on the bed to completely face me.
“all of it.” i reply bluntly.
“well can you be more specific so i can at least try to help you?” matt questions.
i really didn’t want to tell him one of the main reasons why i was stressed out. i’m not even sure if “stress” is the word for it.
truth be told, i’m the most inexperienced person i know. i’ve never had a boyfriend. i’ve never kissed anyone. i’ve never had sex. nothing.
and now in a few weeks i was getting thrown right into college life.
i’d be lying if i said i didn’t feel insecure about it. i knew that everyone around me was going to have at the very least a kiss under their belt. not me though.
there was going to be a whole new display of men at my disposal, and along with that, a whole new group of pretty, experienced girls.
i felt pathetic.
but how could i admit to my childhood best friend that i was stressed out about going to college because i was a virgin? that i had never felt the touch of a man?
but it was matt. i told matt everything. always have. always will.
without even thinking, i blurt “i’m a virgin.”
“what?” matt’s eyes widen at my confession.
“i’ve never had sex. i’ve never been kissed. i’ve never even had a boyfriend, matt. i feel like a child.” i explain, matt’s eyes never leaving mine.
“you don’t have to have done any of those things to be ‘cool’ y/n/n.” his voice was soft and reassuring.
“that’s easy for you to say matt. you have girls practically worshipping the ground you walk on just for a chance with you.” he didn’t get it. he has had girlfriends. he has had kisses. he’s had sex. i didn’t have that.
“who’s to say you don’t have guys doing the same for you?” he raises an eyebrow at me.
“oh really? name one.” i insist.
“oh i can name several. brandon jones bought you 12 of those goofy ass over priced roses that student council was selling for valentine’s day and asked you to prom. you turned down all of his advances. 8th grade, when we were playing spin the bottle in nate’s basement, aiden griffin begged you to play, and when you said no, he didn’t play either.” he holds up a finger for each boy he recalls.
“that’s only two. plus, i hate roses and i always go to dances with you. and also, i didn’t exactly want to have my first kiss with anyone on your hockey team.” i defend.
“you didn’t let me finish.” he hushes me. “jack waters asked you out 4 times and you said no every. single. time.”
“okay okay i get it” i grumble, praying he would shut up.
he was right. i never even gave anyone a chance. it was my fault i had such a lack of experience. there was plenty of opportunity.
which is why i wasn’t even sure why i was sitting here, wallowing in self pity over things i could’ve done ages ago had i not rejected any boy who showed interest in me. until now, guys and everything that came along with that just didn’t seem like a priority to me. i had my best friend, who treated me perfect, and that was enough for me. matt would be there any time a boy made me cry. he would hold me and tell me that they aren’t worth my time, that i deserved the world. i whole heartedly believed anything that came out of his mouth, which i can only assume is partially to blame for my ridiculous standards.
matt treated me like a princess. matt tied my shoes when i was little and didn’t know how, matt was patient when i was learning how to ride my bike without training wheels, matt would eat the green and purple skittles because he knew i only liked the red and orange, matt knew the sidewalk rule, matt covered the edge of the table with his hand when i would drop something underneath so i wouldn’t hit my head when i came back up, matt went all out for my birthday each year, matt had gotten me flowers and chocolate for valentine’s day every year since we were 7. matt did it all.
matt was the best friend i could ever ask for.
he would do anything for me.
which was exactly why, despite my outward reaction, i wasn’t at all surprised by this proposal.
“what if i helped you? i teach you how to do all the things before you got to college so you aren’t going in there blind.”
“like as in-“ i speak slow and unsurely before he cut me off.
“like as in kiss you, have sex with you, what ever you think you need to know before you leave. we can start small and work our way up.” he stares at me intently, as if he was trying to read my face.
“are you sure?” i question.
“if that’s what you want. i want to help you. that’s what friends are for anyway, right? making each other feel good?”
sure, friends are supposed to make each other “feel good”. but by doing friend things.
not sex.
no strings attached though, right? strictly business. people do friends with benefits all the time.
it couldn’t hurt.
matt’s my best friend. he just wants to help me out. friends help each other.
that’s what this is. help.
helping me reach an orgasm.
“nothing has to change between us. we will still be best friends. you don’t have to say yes. if you don’t want to do it, we can just forget thing conversation ever happened alright? i just want you to be comfortable.” he explains.
“deal.” i hold my hand out.
“deal.” he grabs my hand and shakes it.
“but if you’re having doubts, or feelings get involved, or anything goes wrong, we have to cut it off okay?” i narrow my eyes at him. i needed him to know i was serious about our friendship. i could t lose him just because i felt like a helpless virgin.
“got it” he nods.
“so, when should this whole thing start?” i cock my head to the side.
matt leans down from his position on my bed, places his hand on my cheek and slowly leans in.
“here.” he says as his lips ghost over mine.
before i say a word, our lips connect. my eyes go wide for a second before i relax into the kiss. his lips were just as soft as they looked.
i was having my first kiss.
with my best friend.
holy fuck.
a/n: I HOPE YALL LIKE THIS AHH. i’m kind of excited for this series. lmk how you’re feeling so far 😋😋
taglist: @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @creamoncreamoncream2 @pepsiimaxx @honestlybabymiracle @chrissturnioloswifesblog @eliiii333 @luvmxtt @mattestrella @hearts4chris
#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo triplets x reader#chrissturnioloxreader#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolos#space camp#space camp wellness#cut the camera podcast#fresh love#nathan doe#sturniolo smut#campers
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
ɞ ― when you said you loved me; wilbur
cw + info! minific, domestic fluff, established relationship, gender neutral reader / implied burnout, fatigue symptoms
prompt! "sorry, i think my brain stopped for a second when you said you loved me”
dedication! @ivyinnit
notes! again, super sorry that this is literally A YEAR late, but i’m trying to jump on this scrap of motivation that i have! i hope you guys like it :>
if you were being honest with yourself, it had been… a week. not quite bad but definitely not competing with any sunshine or rainbows. you were more than excited for the date night you and wilbur had planned at the beginning of the week. you wasted no time once you got off of work, heading home only to change into something that was not your work clothes and pack a bag before heading straight to wilbur’s apartment. you guys didn’t do date nights in like this too often, but you had enough prior experience to know that you’d probably fall asleep together on his couch and end up staying the night whether you planned for it or not, so it was pretty worth it to pack a bag. it wasn’t that far, the journey easy on your aching feet, and the route was pleasantly familiar. the sun had just begun to set when you knocked on his door with your overnight bag slung over one shoulder, a pillow pet tucked under the other arm. “hello,” you greeted, tone soft and hazy, when wilbur opened the door for you. the fatigue that hung over you was nearly palpable, almost seeming to come off of you in waves. he could tell immediately by the droop of your tired shoulders the kind of week you had.
“hi, honey,” he greeted gently. set a hand on your shoulder and stepped out of your way. “why don’t you come in? you can go change into your cozies in my room if you’d like. i’m just working on dinner.”
you nodded tiredly, humming in response. your eyes stayed shut just a second too long as you blinked and wilbur gently urged you down the hallway to his room.
“if you don’t come out in ten minutes, i’m coming to check on you!” he called after you, smiling softly as he watched you shuffle along.
“sounds good,” you mumbled in return, stepping into his room, only closing the door behind you most of the way. it was fine; you knew wilbur wasn’t the type to try and sneak a peek. yawning, you pulled your clothes off, not even bothering to fold them. you enthusiastically exchanged them for comfier pajamas – a pair of red plaid pajama pants and a hoodie you’d borrowed from wilbur a few weeks ago. you had originally intended to return it, but right now you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to care that far. that and you knew that he wouldn’t be super likely to have a problem with it. once you were finished, you tucked your backpack and the balled-up pile of your clothes into the corner of his room to take care of later.
“less than ten minutes,” you announced sleepily as you trudged into his kitchen. “you don’t have to come check on me. see, i’m quite capable of dressing myself, thank you.” it was teasing and light, the most that you had the energy for at the moment.
“i know you are,” he assured you, something about his tone fond. he stood in front of the stove, stirring a pot of something, a couple jars of sauce sitting on the counter beside him. “i just wanted to make sure you were okay. you seem a little sleepy is all.”
you hummed, crossing your arms over your chest. “thank you, much appreciated.”
a beat as wilbur added a pinch more of salt to the water. “are you sure you can make it through a movie tonight? because i’d be more than happy to read for a little bit if you wanted to sleep after dinner.”
you shook your head, the action much resembling that of a tuckered out toddler. “no, i wanna try. i might fall asleep, but maybe we could just watch a nature documentary instead of something on our list. don’t wanna make you rewatch it later just because i fell asleep.”
wilbur huffed a laugh, light and affectionate. “i wouldn’t mind rewatching anything, you know. as long as you get the rest you need.”
another shake of your head. “nope. i vote nature documentary. something with big cats on the savanna or something like that.”
wilbur gave another laugh, nodding. “alright. nature documentary it is then,” he conceded.
then, silence. it was comfortable. the air was warm, the perfect temperature to help you relax after a long week. your head lolled to the side as you leaned against the doorframe, leaving your cheek to rest against your shoulder. it was so comfortable here. nothing felt more like home than moments like these, watching your boy be all soft and in his element. he hummed a tune to himself - something he’d probably been working on for a new song - as he stirred, occasionally putting his hand up to catch some of the steam rising from the pot. he swayed to the beat, not seeming to mind your fatigued state too much. it helped ease the guilt that you held about not being able to give him a very interesting night. moments like these helped to remind you that you didn’t need to be stellar company all the time, that he was just content to have you around.
“wilbur?” you asked, hugging yourself now.
“yes, love?” he turned to look at you over his shoulder. “do you need something?”
you shook your head lightly. “no, i was just wondering what you were making for dinner. nothin’ crazy.”
wilbur’s expression melted into a smile. “i was just gonna make some pasta with the sauce how you like it. with the tomato sauce, the alfredo, and the spinach. and i got some bread, too. does that sound alright?”
you gave him a small grin, making a sound of approval. “oh, that sounds wonderful. can’t wait.”
“i figured you would,” he said, sounding proud of himself. “it’s easy, it tastes good, and i know for a fact that you like it.”
“i do, i do,” you agreed, padding over to hug him from behind. your arms wrapped gently around his middle and you pressed your face against his back. “thank you, wilbur. i love you so much. i appreciate you tons. this all means a lot.”
wilbur tensed, making a noise of surprise. a beat of silence.
you squeezed his middle, confused at the change in energy. “wilbur, are you alright?”
“i-i-i,” he stammered, brain buffering as he struggled to process your words. “no, yeah! i-i’m fine.” he gave a self deprecating laugh, letting the wooden spoon sit in the pot for just a moment as he turned around in your embrace to face you. “sorry, i think my brain stopped for a second when you said you loved me.”
you blushed at the realization. you hadn’t meant to say it right then, but you didn’t mean it any less. it was true; you loved him, and not just for all the things he did for you. you just wished that the first time you said it to him had been a little bit more intentional than you mumbling it into the back of his tee shirt while you were half asleep.
“hey, hey,” he whispered, pulling you out of your own head. one of his hands moved to cup your cheek. “i love you too, you know. a lot, actually.”
“good.” you grinned, leaning up to press the tips of your noses together, almost a bunny kiss. “because i mean it, soot.”
he hummed, content. “i mean it too.”
you hummed back, happy to rest against him like this forever.
his thumb grazed over your cheek before he pulled away, cheeks red and smile soft. “sorry to ruin the moment, but i’m gonna try and finish this pasta before you fall asleep on me. does that sound alright?”
you nodded, forehead against his back as he turned around to face the stove again. “love you, wil,” you mumbled again, this time through a yawn.
he laughed softly at the admission, his free hand finding one of yours that was still clasped around his middle. he held it, thumb grazing comfortingly over the back of it. “i love you too.”
#✩; yours truly#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot fluff#mcyt x reader#mcyt fluff#dsmp x reader#dsmp fluff#origins x reader#origins fluff#qsmp x reader#qsmp fluff
107 notes
·
View notes
Text
(Not so) Happy Birthday Part II
A/n: thank you all so much for your patience I hope this was worth the wait!
Part I
“Are you serious?” You heard a groaning voice behind you, belonging to your friend Jade who you’d been staying with. “How many times are you going to watch A Star Is Born? It’s getting concerning.”
You let out a small laugh, digging into what was your second popcorn bowl of the day. “I’m going to keep watching it until they live happily ever after. Or until I feel less bad about where my life is headed.” She sits down next to you and lets you rest your head on her shoulder while you desperately try not to cry for the second time today. The first week after the breakup you allowed yourself several meltdowns a day, the next week just one and this week you were really trying to keep it together as much as humanly possible. Needless to say, with your movie selections and inability to turn the camera or microphone on during your work meetings on Zoom in case you did get overwhelmed, things weren’t looking good.
“Do you think I made a mistake? Maybe I shouldn’t have pulled the trigger so fast and heard him out?”
Jade’s sigh gave you the answer you weren’t wanting to hear, but told you everything you needed to know. “Look, I'm not going to tell you how to live your life. But I am going to tell you that you are going to have to go over there and grab your stuff. You can’t just live in my clothes for the rest of your life. This depressive state cannot last forever.”
“Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll text him now and make sure I’m only there when he’s at the facility.”
The next morning you found yourself in a very familiar place. Everything was spotless like no one even lived there. But the place was full of some of your most fond memories. The spot in front of the fridge where you kissed Justin for the first time. The couch where you spent many nights watching movies or looking for missing cards from a Settlers of Catan game that had Justin flipping the board over when Patrick beat him. So much time spent in the bedroom you were standing in now, where all of your things remained exactly where you’d left them.
“I’m sorry I didn’t pack your stuff. I really wanted to—make it easier for you but, that just made it more real that you were really gone.”
Of course he came home just for this.
The sound of his voice should have startled you but it brought you peace instead, it was a sad form of validation to see and hear that he was also struggling. “Is that why you haven’t slept in your bed?” You ask, finally feeling brave enough to turn and face him. He looked good, tired but good.
He lets out a dry chuckle. “You really don’t miss a thing do you? I’ve been sleeping in the guest room near the office. Didn’t feel right being here alone. But I understand why you left. And I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am y/n.”
“Well… are you sorry enough to help me pack up all of this stuff?” Under the guise of your humor, he could tell this was the very last thing you wanted to do so he just nodded and got to work.
The next few hours were spent packing and loading things into your car, every box held a piece of him in it. He held the last one in his hands and stopped you as you grabbed your keys.
“I want to be the man you deserve. And I promise I’m working on it.”
You motion for him to put the box on the floor and he does so immediately, gladly welcoming your body into his arms. This is where you wanted to be for all of eternity, without worrying about the real world and ignoring your intuition and just letting your heart cloud what your brain has been yelling at you since you walked away from him. You pulled away from the hug and looked up at him, running your fingers through his hair and watching him melt into your touch. This is your home, this is the man you love. So why in the world would you walk away from it? Letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, the distance between you two became nonexistent and all you could think about was giving into this moment and letting it all go. You closed your eyes and felt him inch closer and closer to your face.
And then you remembered everything that went wrong.
“Justin, I’m so sorry. I can’t.” You pulled away from him. “I need you to show me you’re trying. The best apology is changed behavior. As embarrassing as it is to admit, part of me will always belong to you and I need you to either match my energy or I need to move on because I can’t keep living like this. I’m not going to.” You picked up the box yourself and walked as fast as you could back to your car and drove away without a second glance. If this was going to work, he was going to have to earn you back.
“Should I throw her a makeup birthday party?”
Keenan and Derwin both look at each other and shake their heads. “Her birthday was like a month ago bro, a little cake and some flowers isn’t gonna do shit for you now.”
“How am I going to show her how much I care about her?”
Derwin places a hand on his shoulder, “you gotta dig deep, Herbo. Think about what the fight was about and deal with the problem head on. And be honest with her…and yourself.”
“Aye…that was deep man. I didn’t know you had all that in the drafts.” The wide receiver nods at his teammate. “But forreal Herb, do what you gotta do to get your lady back man. You got a good one, make sure she knows that.”
“No you’re right. We gotta beat Denver first and then I can figure out what to do after that. Thank you guys.”
Keenan stands up to dap him up before they head to practice. “You know we got you brother.”
He had to admit the protection had been pretty shaky all game. The quarterback felt rushed and had little to no time in the pocket before getting hit and the receivers had been struggling heavily with drops the last few weeks. The offense had just not been rolling in the way he hoped and their playoff window was closing quickly. On 2nd and 7 he threw a zip pass to Donald Parham over the middle for a first down, bracing himself for impact as Zach Allen, the Broncos’ 285 pound defensive end, came running at him. Their bodies got tangled up on the way down and somewhere in the fold his index finger got stuck as the rest of his body continued its descent to the turf. Something was off and he knew it but continued to play until the drive was over. The trainers looked him over on the sidelines and decided it would be best to take him back into the locker room for an x-ray.
Meanwhile, you had it been able to resist turning on the game, having watched everything unfold. But this time all you could do was sit in anticipation instead of going straight to the tunnel and speak with the staff. You’d been here before. You've seen this. He’d broken another finger just weeks earlier against Las Vegas but they’d just thrown a shit ton of tape on it and he went right back in. But this was his throwing hand, his money maker and admittedly, it had you worried. You opted to send him a quick text letting him know you hoped everything was okay, even if your gut was telling you it wasn’t.
Justin slammed his helmet down looking at the x-ray results and threw a hoodie on to head back out onto the field and cheer on his guys. The physical pain in his finger paled in comparison to how he was feeling mentally. He’s let down his teammates, his guys. The coaches. The fans. All these people that were counting on him were going to be disappointed. With four weeks left in the season he knew it was a long shot to try and play again. But that wasn’t going to stop him from doing everything in his power to try to be ready until the doctors gave him the official word that he couldn’t. After the game was over and he headed to the locker room to change, he shot you a text back that he was fine and headed to his post game presser.
You know that feeling when you don’t even remember going to sleep until you open your eyes and question your entire existence? Yeah that’s what was happening to you now. The knock on the door startled you out of a sleep you didn’t even mean to take and you sleepily stood up from your seat on Jade’s couch and opened the door.
The man on the other side of it had you thinking you might still be asleep. But there he really was, hand heavily taped and in a splint. At least his hair was finally dry. “I’m so sorry for coming by so late, is Jade asleep? Were you?”
“She’s out with some guy tonight and you’re fine. What are you doing here, what’s going on?”
You step aside to let him in and close the door behind him. “I lied to you earlier. And then I realized that I was making the same mistakes that got us in this mess so I got an Uber and wanted to finally be honest. With you.”
“Justin what are you—what do you mean?”
“I’m not fine,” he states with a shaky sigh. “I signed this big contract in the offseason and was on top of the world. This is my team, you know? I’m the guy. They trusted me with all this money and I don’t even know if I deserve it anymore. I let them down and now I’m not even sure I’ll get to play with these guys again this year. And I don’t even know why my first instinct is always to tell you that I’m okay. Maybe I’m trying to spare your feelings and not burden you with this ‘whoa is me’ attitude but I do want to tell you everything. I—I trust you with my life, I just haven’t been acting like it. You’re the only one I want to tell everything to and I haven’t been treating you like my partner and I’m sorry for letting it get this bad.”
You swallowed the lump forming in your throat before speaking. “Justin I need to tell you something and I need you to listen to everything I’m about to say.” He nods and waits for you to continue. “You. Deserve. Everything. Okay? I mean god this team is probably winless without you. You’ve willed them to be competitive ALL year and somehow along the way you’ve been convinced that this is your fault. It’s not you. You are NOT the problem. If anything babe, you’re the fucking standard. You set records, you are who everyone compares their quarterback to and you know why? Because you have rallied those guys and they believe in you. Your organization believes in you. I believe in you.”
“Thank you for saying that,” he whispers, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. “And I know I can’t erase the past or what I did but you’re everything I could ever want. Much more than I’ve ever asked for. And I fucked up the best thing I had. There isn’t a moment that I don’t think about it. Maybe…we could start over? Not forget any of the mistakes that were made along the way but learn from them. Clean slate, so I can earn your trust back.”
He waits for you to respond, the silence quickly killing his confidence. Maybe he really had lost you for good. You look down at the floor in sadness, still unsure about if this one conversation was enough to change the course of your relationship. Justin doesn’t wait any longer, kissing you on the forehead and walking out the front door. The quarterback sat in the Uber with a heavy sigh, trying to come to terms with the chaos of his professional and personal life. A few hours later when he couldn’t sleep in anticipation of his doctor’s appointment in a few hours, there was a knock at the door.
“I’m so sorry to bother you this late but I just couldn’t shake this feeling that this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. Oh I’m sorry I didn’t even introduce myself, I’m y/n.”
Justin’s smile takes over his face, dimple in full display. “It’s nice to meet you y/n, I’m Justin.”
Maybe, just maybe…what started with the worst birthday of your life could be a really funny story to tell your grandkids someday.
104 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lavender - Ch. 28
You get ready to leave the QZ - probably forever. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-27 found on Tumblr here.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader
Warnings: Canon typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only
Length: 4K
A/N: If you're seeing this and feeling behind, it's probably because I put up two chapters in a day! Go back for chapter 27 first :)
You kept Ellie close, flanked by Joel and Tess as you made your way back across the QZ. They slowed down a bit once there was some distance between you and the Firefly hideout, reassured that FEDRA wouldn’t be showing up at any second to start arresting people.
You weren’t sure there was a safe way out of this situation. Not that you actually thought Joel would kill a child - you doubted Tess would but didn’t know her well enough to know for sure - but if you managed to slip away, the Fireflies would be after you immediately.
In a time where you could freely move between cities, you might have taken Ellie to a bus stop or train station and gotten the hell out of there. But the QZ was an immensely finite space. There weren’t many rocks under which to hide.
“OK,” Tess said, looking between you, Joel and Ellie. “I’m going to check on our path out. Doc, you go do whatever you need to do, be back here in three hours. The kid stays with Joel.”
“No,” you shook your head. “Ellie stays with me.”
“Then you stay here,” Tess shrugged. “We’re not about to let our key to a way across country out of our sight.”
You sighed and turned to Ellie, a hard look on her face, and tugged her into the kitchen.
“You’re not seriously considering leaving me with these psychos?” She asked, voice low.
“They’re not bad,” you said. “Joel… he’s a good person, he’s not going to do anything to hurt you. He just might be an asshole.”
“How much of an asshole,” she narrowed her eyes at you.
“Enough to be annoying about it, not enough to do any damage,” you smiled. “Promise. But I have to go shower and change and grab some things, if I try to cross the country smelling like this they’re going to throw me out of the car before we even make it to Pennsylvania.”
“Fine,” she muttered.
“Try not to poke the bear though,” you said, looking back toward Joel and Tess talking quietly in the living room. “Not worth the hassle.”
She sighed dramatically in the way that only teenaged girls seemed to be able to do and stomped back to the living room.
“Back in three hours,” you said.
“Should probably tell Andrew you’re leaving this time,” Joel muttered, flopping on the couch.
“Yes, the next time the Fireflies grab me off the street and hold me captive for two weeks, I’ll try to leave a note first,” you snapped. He sat up a bit, looking at you, frowning. “What, did you think I was there on purpose?”
He settled back into the couch.
“Figured you and Tommy’d decided to do something stupid,” he replied, looking you up and down. “You OK?”
You were taken aback by the question.
“Fine,” you replied. “Just really need a shower. Back soon.”
The shower might have been cold but it might have been the best one you’d ever had. You took your time, scrubbing every inch of yourself, washing your hair twice. You were shivering when you were done but you knew it was probably the last time you’d be clean for a while, you wanted to take advantage of it.
You tried to pack as quickly as you could but you took a few minutes to make your bed and clean the glass that Ellie had used two weeks earlier, putting it away. You knew you’d likely never see Boston again, let alone this apartment so you wanted to leave it in a good way. You’d lived here for nearly half your life. It was small, parts were worn, but it had been yours. It was hard to reckon with leaving everything behind.
You packed some clothes, trauma gear, all the research notes you had about the effective treatment you’d found, water bottles, the book of poetry Beth left you. For the second time in your life, you took the picture of you, Joel and Sarah out of its frame and tucked it into your bag, knowing you likely would never return. You did the same with the pictures of your grandmother and Becca. You got the photo of Joel and Tess out of the notebook in the drawer and tucked it away, too. You grabbed a handful of ribbons that you’d collected through the years, like bringing them meant you weren’t leaving part of yourself behind. You took all the food you could from your kitchen - jerky, dried fruit. Every birth control pill pack and broad spectrum antibiotic you had. Finally, you put the old sweatshirt you’d worn during the outbreak in your bag. You still wore it when you felt lonely, put it on and remembered how you’d felt when Joel had given it to you the day you graduated. You’d been tipsy on champagne and he looked so goddamn proud it made your heart ache.
You sat at your kitchen table and wrote a short note, the only one you felt you needed to write. “Derek,” you wrote. “I’m sorry for everything that happened. Know that I loved you the best I could and know that you deserve more than that. Thank you for everything.” You put it with the framed photo you had taken of him reading in your apartment.
Before you took a last look around, you went into the stash below the floorboard and brought up all your extra ration cards and ammunition. Not that you had your gun any more thanks to Marlene but hopefully Joel or Tess could use it. You pocketed some ration cards and put the rest in the bag you usually brought to school, along with the photo, the note and as much of your other research as it could hold before setting off to Andrew’s.
Elizabeth was shrieking with laughter when you got to their door. You waited a second before knocking, savoring the sound while you could. The thought of never hearing it again put a knot in your throat. You took a deep breath before you knocked.
There was some chaos on the other side of the door, you could hear Andrew trying to herd his children out of the way, followed by the frantic turning of the deadbolt and him ripping the door open, the knob slamming into the wall as he all but jumped into the hall to hug you.
“Holy shit I thought you were dead,” he held you tight, backpack and all, crushing you to his chest. You hugged him back, trying to remember what it was like the first time you’d held him. You’d both been so different then - he’d just been a teenager, he’d gotten slightly taller since then. It was hard to think of leaving him behind.
“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice thick. “I’m really sorry…”
He stepped back, pulling you inside, looking you up and down.
“Are you coming back or are you leaving?” He asked.
“Leaving,” you said quietly.
“Auntie Doc!” Elizabeth ran over to you, her little bare feet slapping against the linoleum floor. “Did you know that giraffes’ tongues can be 20 inches long? That’s almost two feet!”
“No way, really?” You smiled, trying not to cry. “That’s so long! What do they do with it all?”
Jess ran out from the bedroom and hurled herself at you, her red hair flying. You barely caught her.
“Thank God!” She said tearfully. She clung to you for a second before falling back. “Where the hell were you? We’ve been worried sick!”
“I know and I’m sorry,” you said. Elizabeth was looking up at the adults, confused. “Can we stash the kids for a minute? I need to talk to you guys.”
Jess nodded before taking Elizabeth’s hand and scooping up Jonah, setting them up in their room with some toys before closing the door.
“We’ve got about five minutes before one of them winds up dead,” She said.
“I’ll try to be quick,” you said, handing the canvas bag to Andrew who took it with a frown. You slid your pack off your back and to the floor before sitting on the couch. He sat beside you.“That’s for you. My apartment keys are in there, too. When you can or want, go take whatever you might like.”
Andrew looked at you and frowned.
“You’re talking like you’re not coming back…”
“I don’t think I am,” you said quietly.
“No,” he shook his head, looking away from you for a moment before turning back, tears in his eyes. “No, see, we don’t do this. You and me, together, that’s how we do this…”
“It’s not going to happen this time,” you said. “I have a student, the one I’ve told you about… The Fireflies are taking her across country. Something happened with her and… They think she might be immune.”
“Immune?” Jess frowned, sinking onto the couch beside her husband. “Like can’t turn?”
You nodded.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Andrew said. “That… we’d have seen that by now if it were possible.”
“That’s where I’ve been the last two weeks,” you said. “She showed up at my house with a half healed bite, I was trying to take her to the clinic to see if I could get the cordyceps out and the Fireflies found us. They’ve been monitoring her for the last two weeks. She hasn’t changed, the cordyceps haven’t advanced. I never got a chance to remove them, they just… aren’t attacking her. They’re bringing her to their lab out west and I’m going with them.”
“No,” Andrew said again. “Fuck the Fireflies, who the hell knows what they’ll do with anything they get from her…”
“That’s why I have to go,” you said. “I have to make sure whatever they’re doing they’re doing it right. But more importantly, I have to protect that girl. No one is on her side, Andrew, no one. She has no one. She’s going to vanish and no one is going to notice, they’re all going to assume she fell through the cracks. Someone has to be on her side, she can’t go through it all alone.”
You didn’t want to give them time to argue.
“In the bag is all the research I didn’t want to try to haul in the backpack that I might want,” you said. “I’m hoping I’ll have access to a radio so if there’s something I desperately need, I’ll get word to you and you can relay it over. There’s more at my place but it’s even older. I’d appreciate if you could get it and hold onto it for me, though.
“There’s also something in there for Derek, if you wouldn’t mind dropping it off. Doesn’t need to be soon, whenever you want but I’d appreciate if you waited until I’d been gone for a week or two first. I don’t want him thinking I took off because of him or something. I also put my stash of ration cards in there. I kept some to hopefully bribe someone with if I need to on the way out but the rest are yours.”
“What am I supposed to do without you?” He asked.
“I don’t know,” you sniffed, starting to cry. “Let me know if you figure it out because I’m going to be lost without you.”
He pulled you into a tight hug and you pressed your face into his shoulder.
“I owe you everything, you know,” you said, voice muffled by his shirt.
“I wouldn’t be here without you,” he replied, holding you close for another moment before pulling back. “The end of the world fucking sucked but I’ve always felt like it at least got me my wife and my best friend out of the deal. And now you’re leaving.”
“You’re my family,” you smiled tightly, putting a hand on his knee. “But you’ve got your own family now and you’re doing a hell of a job with them. Keep it up, OK?”
“Yeah,” he nodded.
“Never thought I’d get another sister,” Jess sniffed. “But damn, I lucked out.”
“I never had one to begin with,” you smiled at her. “But if I had, I think she’d have paled in comparison to you.”
There was a clatter from the bedroom. Jess dried her eyes.
“Let me get the kids before they hurt themselves,” she said. “You have to say goodbye to them, too…”
It took everything you had to not cry as Elizabeth babbled to you about giraffes - the animal from today’s science book - and Jonah tugged at your shirt. You hugged them both tightly, told them how much you loved them, tried to cover the feeling of your heart cracking open with longing to hold them just a while longer.
Andrew walked you to the door, his arm around your shoulders.
“Even if we never had to save each other, I’d still be so glad we met,” he said.
“Me too,” you smiled through the tears.
“I’m just deciding this isn’t goodbye,” he said. “It’s see you later, OK? We’ll see you again. It’s you and me, that’s how we do this.”
“Yeah, OK,” you laughed a little and he pressed his lips to your forehead.
“Radio when you make it, OK?” He said. You nodded. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
The walk to Joel’s felt both too long and too short. You wanted to get your tears under control before you got there but walking through the QZ while crying was a little too vulnerable for your taste. There were still tears in your eyes when Joel opened the door.
“You OK?” He frowned down at you as you stepped inside.
You shrugged with a sniff.
“Said goodbye to Jess and Andrew and the kids,” you said softly. “I never thought I’d know when I wouldn’t see them again, you know? At least not for a few decades if we got that lucky.”
You wiped your eyes on your sleeves.
“You’re not coming back,” he said it more than asked it.
“No,” you shook your head. “I don’t think I am.”
“Doc!” Ellie came out from the bathroom, a proud grin on her face. “I figured out their smuggling code. 80s means trouble.”
You glanced up at Joel.
“Bill and Frank?”
He added once.
“Shit,” you muttered.
Tess wasn’t too far behind you, letting herself in just as you’d managed to stop crying.
“Let’s move.”
***
This girl was going to drive Joel insane.
She was nosey, a smart ass and too clever for her own good. And she damn well knew it, too. Which only made it worse.
Thankfully, she seemed to have a modicum of respect for you and actually listened when you told her to be quiet and do whatever Joel and Tess told her to do.
“They’re pros,” you’d told her as they got ready to leave the apartment. “You’ve got to trust them. Stick close, obey, you’ll be fine.”
She’d sighed dramatically but seemed to listen, Joel in the lead, the girl behind him, you behind the girl and Tess bringing up the rear.
He wasn’t huge on any part of this plan. You were a liability outside the QZ. He’d given you a gun and a knife so you weren’t totally unarmed but you were far from a great shot and he wasn’t sure you’d even be willing to shoot or stab anything but an infected.
And then there was the kid.
Joel hadn’t been around kids such since… Regardless, he didn’t remember them seeming quite so small or disturbingly fragile. It wasn’t that she was particularly delicate by any means, it seemed like she approached everything that crossed her path the way a freight train would: loudly and head on. It was more that she was inherently breakable, something that was in desperate need of protection.
Protection that you’d, apparently, decided fell to you from the way you kept close to her. It set Joel’s teeth on edge. You might have been capable of protecting her in the QZ - you had connections, after all, and you could certainly patch her up when she got hurt. He was sure you’d have no problem shouting down some FEDRA asshole on the girl’s behalf. But raiders and infected? Those were another story.
But he only had to get the two of you across Boston. Then he’d have a car and could go find Tommy. And leave you to the Fireflies.
He ground his teeth.
He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
He made it to the fence line, ducking under first while Tess held it up for you and the girl to scramble through before following behind.
“Holy shit,” the kid breathed, looking up as though the sky should be fucking different a few feet outside the wall.
“Ellie!” You hissed, grabbing her and tugging her down beside you.
“Sorry,” she winced. “I’ve just never been outside!”
Joel watched the searchlight and you tugged the girl lower against you as it passed overhead.
“Go,” Tess ordered once it had cleared.
He led you along the wall, staying pressed close against it, until they were close to the next gap… and ran almost head first into a guard.
“Hey!” He yelled, raising his gun.
“Fuck,” Joel muttered, putting his hands up, trying to maneuver himself in front of you. You grabbed the girl and tucked her behind your body before raising your hands, too.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The guard snapped. Joel tried to not groan.
“Look,” he began but he cut him off.
“Thought I warned you that we were cracking down and now you’re just, what, leading a fuckin’ field trip?” He demanded.
“This is all just a big misunderstanding,” you smiled a little. “I’m sure we can work it out…”
“Did I tell you that you could fuckin’ talk?” The man pointed his gun at you. Joel’s jaw twitched.
“If you just want to give me a second,” your voice was calm. “There are some cards in my back pocket. I’m going to get them out, you can have them, they’re yours, OK?”
The man paused, gun still pointed at you.
“Let’s seem ‘em,” he said.
Joel glanced back at you as you moved slowly, just one hand, and pulled out a wad of cards, approaching the guard slowly and handing them over. You stepped back, glancing behind you as you did, lining yourself up with the girl, staying in front of her.
“Thanks,” he pocketed them. “For that, I won’t kill you.”
“What more do you fuckin’ want man?” Tess asked. “Let us do this run and we’ll give you half.”
“Need a lot more than fuckin’ half if you want me risking my neck for you assholes,” he snapped. “Turn around, down on your knees, hands on your head, let’s go.”
You looked at Joel, your eyes wide. Your head moved, ever so slightly, once. A shake. For some reason, this was a bridge too far.
“You can have it all,” he said quickly. “All the cards from this run, they’re yours.”
“I said down on your fuckin’ knees!” The gun was up.
“Alright, Jesus,” Tess muttered, turning around and looking to you and Ellie. “Just get down…”
You and the girl shared a look as you got to your knees and Joel followed, watching you out of the corner of his eye.
“I know a lot of high up people in FEDRA here,” you said as the man went to Tess. “Want a nice, cushy gig? I can make that happen…”
“Yeah I bet you fuckin’ can,” he scoffed. “Crawling out of the QZ like a fuckin’ rat screams power…” He pressed his scanner to Tess’ neck.
“Seriously?” She snapped. “We were coming from inside…”
“Unauthorized exit,” he showed her the screen. “That’s a hanging offense.”
“Pills,” Joel said quickly. “Half off.”
“All off,” the man countered.
“I’m a doctor,” you said quickly. “You won’t even need to wait for them to do a run, I’ll get you as many as you want, I’ve got access…”
The scanner pressed to Joel’s neck.
“Two for two,” he shook his head. “Not lookin’ too hot for the field trip…”
He scanned you next.
“Looky here,” he turned the scanner around. “Unauthorized. Exit. Hope your powerful friends are free to bail you out…”
“Name it,” you said quickly, pleading. “I’ll give you whatever you want…”
He pressed the scanner to the girl’s neck and she screamed, leaving him yelping in pain, clutching his leg.
You moved quickly, twisting and grabbing the girl, all but throwing her behind you as you scrambled to your feet and the guard yanked a knife from his leg.
“Fucking bitch!” He raised the gun.
Joel jumped between you and the guard.
“She’s freaked out, I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “It’s a misunderstanding, it’s all a misunderstanding. I can still get you whatever you want, I can get you more cards, I can get you pills…”
“No, fuck you,” he snarled, pressing forward.
“We can work this out,” Joel kept his hands up, glancing behind him. Your eyes were wide, the girl peering over your shoulder. Your arms were behind you, trying to hold her back as you shielded her. He looked back at the guard. “Just put the gun down.”
“I don’t fuckin’ think so.”
The man’s finger twitched toward the trigger and, for half a moment, it was 20 years ago. He was holding Sarah. He was scared. He needed to protect her. Life without her wasn’t worth it, he needed to keep her safe.
He lunged for the guard before he was fully aware of what he was doing, knocking the gun aside and bringing his fist down on the man’s face again and again and again.
There was something deeply satisfying about it, raining blows down on the man who would have killed Sarah, just tried to kill you, just tried to kill the fragile girl whose body you were protecting with your own. This time, he wasn’t failing. This time, he was doing what was needed.
“Joel!” Your voice snapped him back to reality, the man’s face a bloody mass below his hand.
The girl was leaning behind you, watching him intently. He looked back at the man, his hand covered in his blood. You darted forward, putting one hand gently on his back, the other taking his bicep, tugging him slowly to his feet. You pulled his hand into yours, looking at his bloody knuckles.
“Come on,” you said quietly. “I’ll take a better look when we’re clear…”
He nodded to you once. You got to your knees and checked the guard’s pulse, wincing after a few seconds. Joel took the gun from the ground.
“Joel!” Tess yelled, panic in her voice. She was holding up a red scanner.
“No,” the girl shook her head and you ran past Joel so fast you were barely a blur, throwing yourself between Tess and the girl.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Doc?” Tess snapped. “You’ve got me hauling an infected girl out of the goddamn QZ! You have us risking our asses for this?”
“I’m not infected!” The girl said, slipping below your arm and holding out her own. “Look, I got bit weeks ago, OK? Weeks, no one lasts that long…”
“It’s true,” you said quickly. “It’s true, she came to me two weeks ago and it was already a week old then, Marlene got us and held us another two weeks, I saw all of it, I swear she’s not infected I don’t know what it is…”
“I should fucking kill you both!” Tess snapped.
“Then let’s do it away from here before more guards show up!” You said quickly, putting the girl behind you again. “Tess, you know me. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have a reason, do you think I’d leave everything here if I didn’t have a reason?”
She panted for breath, staring you down.
“Let’s move before we have more fucking problems,” she snapped, stalking for the fence, Tess ducking below first. You nudged the girl behind her and you stopped, looking back at Joel, waiting for him. He came and stood beside you, his mouth a grim line.
“I promise there’s a reason,” you said softly. “I promise.”
He gave you a single nod. You ducked below the fence and he followed you and the girl into the dark.
A/N: And we say goodbye to Boston and the Boston OC crew! I hope you enjoyed Andrew and Jess at least half as much as I have. Andrew quickly went from a small side character to probably the second favorite character I've ever written. It's the only reason he survived the run with Tess and Joel - I couldn't handle killing him!
I'm really looking forward to exploring some of the dynamics of these characters in the next chapter and, of course, some fun with infected - with some added drama on the books because why not.
I have a taglist! If you'd like to be added, comment below.
Thank you again for reading! I know I say this all the time but this has been such a joy in large part because the readers are such a joy. Thank you thank you thank you for this experience. Love you all!
Taglist: @paleidiot@ayamenimthiriel@ginger-swag-rapunzel@drewharrisonwriter@flugazi @pedropascalsbbg@taoyuji@starstruckmusiciansartghost@splendsay@bigboiseason123@jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10@sloanexx@ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings@arizonadaydreamer@mumma-moonchild@blackroseguzzi@candypeaches16@kittenlittle24@wrappedinfiction@oatmeaiboy
#fanfic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#enemies to friends to lovers
190 notes
·
View notes
Text
Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (1)
“Yes… New York, that’s correct. JFK, if that’s possible, but LaGuardia works too if… you’re sure the closest flight you have is next Monday?” I run a hand down my face, and flop back against my dorm bed, cell phone wedged between my shoulder and my ear. “Sure, fuck it, put me on a waitlist. Yes, call me if a seat opens up… yes, this number is the quickest way to reach me.” I stare up at the ceiling as the receptionist talks, her polite, Britishness, beginning to grate. “Yes, thank you. Bye.”
I snap my phone closed and toss it as far away from me as I can with a groan. It’s sweltering, it’s exam week, and I can’t get a fucking flight home to Brooklyn for the life of me. The dorm is half packed - clothes and shoes from the winter stowed away in trunks, along with all of the non-essentials (decor and trinkets and the like). The rest of my belongings are scattered around, collateral damage from the mess of the last weeks of school. I long for the streets of New York - I haven’t had a bodega sandwich in almost a year. “If I have to stay on this stuffy-ass pretentious campus for even a week longer than I have to I might just slit my wrists in the fucking bath.” I say, mostly to the ceiling. I am so tired of Cambridge.
“Jesus, Evie.”
I sit up to look at Venetia - my flatmate, and one of my only friends here. She’s one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen. She’s maybe the only person in the world that can make bottle blonde look high end. Somehow she toes the line between cute and sexy without seeming like she’s trying too hard - on anyone else, dark grunge eye makeup and a button nose would look silly, but on her… she’s like Helen of Troy in Saint Laurent sunglasses. She's a good angel sent to make my year at Cambridge so, so much easier. It’s hard to make friends as an American exchange student at one of the most pretentious English schools in the world. Harder still when Venetia is also something of an outcast herself. I don’t care much though - she’s worth ten of these other British schoolgirls. “Sorry.”
She barely glances up at me, too busy filing her nails into rounded almond points at my desk, little flakes of old nail polish falling all over my schoolwork scattered there. “It’s your own fault for leaving it until exam week.”
“I know.” I say. I really should have booked a flight back home sooner, but it’s hard to remember to do anything else when you’re drowning in schoolwork and vodka at the same time. “I just didn’t think it would be such a pain in the ass to get home. I mean really, it’s like the whole fucking country’s just decided to go to New York. I’m on seven waitlists to fly economy, V. And I still have finals to do.”
She grins down at her fingernails. “New Yawk.” She snickers, mocking my accent. “Still so American, even after a whole year here.”
“Might be two years if I don’t get a flight home.” I grumble, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. “What color are you doing this time?”
Venetia holds up two bottles - one a dark gray, one more of a silver. “I’m thinking gunmetal underneath, silver on top.” She says conversationally, turning back to the desk to focus on her nails. “You could always come to Saltburn with me.”
“What?” I say, taken aback by her nonchalance. “V- c’mon. I can’t just go live in your family’s castle at the last minute, I mean, we leave campus in like two days.” These rich kids - I swear they think anything can happen at the snap of their pretty fingers. And she does have quite pretty fingers.
She shrugs. “It’s not that big of a deal - I mean, Felix brings someone home every year. Never the same person either.” She grins. “He’s a bit of a slut - in that way.”
“We leave campus in two days.” I repeat. Venetia - for all her lovely qualities - sometimes forgets about the logistics of things. I mean, if I was fuck-off rich, I’m sure I would too, but there just isn’t enough time for arrangements to be made for me to stay at her family’s mansion. It’s a generous offer, but… “I don’t want to just show up V, that’s so presumptuous. Rude, even. And I’ve got a whole year's worth of stuff with me, I can’t just lug it all to your house.”
“But you so totally can.” Venetia says, swiping nail polish over her fingertips. “There are at least six bedrooms that no one uses Evie, it would be no problem at all. And there’s more than enough room for all your luggage. Really, the house is just begging to have more people in it - why do you think Mum throws so many parties? The place is too empty - and it’s so boring over the summer, really you’d be doing us both a favor Evie, please?” She turns her head, batting her long eyelashes at me.
God, she’s pretty. Too pretty for her own good. But- “I don’t want to intrude - I wouldn’t know anyone but you, V. It’d be awkward.” I say. I really would rather not feel out of place for a whole summer when I could be eating delicious bodega sandwiches with my friends that I haven’t seen in a year.
“Please Evelyn?” She pleads again, this time using my full name. She only ever uses my full name when she really wants something. “It’s the perfect solution - you don’t have to stress about getting home, and I’ll finally have a friend to bring for the summer. I’ll have someone to talk to besides Felix and whatever poor soul he brings.”
“I can’t, V. It’s too last minute - I don’t want to intrude. I can’t.” I say.
She sighs, a long, drawn out thing that sinks into my chest and twists around my heart in that way that only she can do. My determination to go home falters. Would it be so bad to stay in England for the summer? I’m already here - it’s not like I’d have to fly (and fight with the airline). The whole point I came to study abroad at Cambridge was to experience English culture, and what better way to do it than to stay in a giant fuck-off castle for a few months? And she seems so… desperate, really. I’ve always sort of been able to tell that she’s never had many friends just by the way she acts - and how the other girls here act around her - and the way she talks about how her brother always brings someone home makes me think that she’s a little jealous.
“You’re sure it wouldn’t be too last minute?” I ask.
Her face lights up, and she turns around in her seat again. “Not at all - the guest bedrooms are always made up anyway, it wouldn’t even be an issue. And it would be such fun to have you there, Evie - Mum will be so excited that I’ve brought a friend home. And Farleigh will finally have another American to talk to - it’ll be great, promise!”
next part >
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fix You - Chapter 14: Enjoy the Silence
Gif by @hunterschafer
Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader
Fic Masterlist
Read on A03
Spotify Playlist
»»———————►
Chapter Summary: The final heat...
Word Count: 7k
Rating: R
Chapter Warnings: Cussing, violence. I will not be warning anything else due to spoiling the story. We are all grown. You can stop reading when you want to.
A/N: Has it really been a year? I wish I had a better excuse than "I haven't been doing great." But that's what it is. I've had huge changes in my life. New job, new career, new goals, and a greater sense of self-worth. I'm feeling a lot better. But my new schedule is busy! Hopefully you can forgive me for such a long cliffhanger.
Finally, a heads up. This has been the arc I have been working towards for almost two years, and I'm not going to waver. Just stick with me like you have been. It’ll be worth it.
I also did the absolute most and made a specific playlist just for this chapter here.
Forever thank you to everyone who commented, reblogged, shared, boosted, made content for, and supported me. It meant a lot and definitely kept this fic in the back of my mind. As always, most love to my girl @musings-of-a-rose who has tolerated me being a shitty friend for a whole ass year, and always talking things through with me in life and in this fic. Cheers.
Suggested Songs: Depeche Mode "Enjoy the Silence", Fitz and the Tantrums: "Out of My League", Lizzo "Truth Hurts", Michael Kiwanuka "Cold Little Heart", Cigarettes After Sex "Cry", Guster "Demons"
Frankie and you decided to break your apartment lease starting October 1st. Fall term started on the 30th of August, and you wanted time to settle into your schedule before planning a move. You spent almost all your time at his house anyway, only stopping back at your apartment for more clothes. Frankie had already given you a row of drawers to keep your things in.
You’d honestly never been happier, both on cloud 9 and it never faded, you were incredibly excited to begin this new start with Frankie and Gabi. It all seemed to have happened so fast. It had only been five months, you hadn’t even told your family about him yet, mostly to avoid comments on the age gap.
You were relieved the hiccup in your relationship settled, you didn’t like feeling unsure or that someone resented you. When you started feeling secure again, you clung to it. That sparkle of joy was hard to keep in check.
You picked your Fall schedule out together and spent the remaining weeks of summer basking in your relationship, playing with Gabi, going out with the guys, and constant fucking. But your most favorite thing was still lying on the couch with Frankie, teasing each other and watching bad TV.
“This is simultaneously the best and worst movie I have ever seen in my life. I don’t understand how they achieved this.”
Frankie shrugs, reaching to your lap for the giant bowl of popcorn, his eyes still glazed to the TV where Mad Max: Fury Road is playing. “I dunno. Who cares? It’s cars and chaos!”
“And Tom Hardy. And Charlize Theron.”
He pinches you on the waist, acting threatened by your thirst just to tease you. “You ever been to a demo derby? This kind of reminds me of it.”
You sit up from where your back is resting against his chest. “Um, no? Isn’t that kind of…for rednecks?”
He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but Benny and Will are rednecks. But no, it’s for anyone who likes cars crashing into each other. There’s actually one at the fair every year. We always go to it. You should come.”
“I’m not going to a demo derby.”
“Aw come on! It’ll be fun! First time for Gabi too, and there’s rides and games and funnel cake and fried oreos—” He pauses as you hold your hand up to silence him.
“I’ll go. You had me at ‘funnel cake.’”
The fair is packed. The final hurrah of the summer before kids return to school and university students dive back into their studies. The derby started at 8 PM sharp, you, Dali, and the boys got there plenty early to look around a bit, get some food, and find seats.
You forgo any typical entree and go right for the funnel cake, heaping fruit and extra powdered sugar on it until the plate is a big mound of sweet. The guys had talked you up on this for days, Benny wouldn’t shut up about it, and you found yourself excited to watch. Your legs bounce impatiently as you scarf down your cake, breaking off pieces here and there to feed to Gabi and your boys.
The seats were bleachers, hard metal planks that hurt your butt and back and caught vibration from every footfall, but Pope sat behind you so you could lean back against his legs to be more comfortable.
It’s a long wait. The bleachers eventually fill up, you certainly had the best seat in the house (thank you Will), and you could see the hoods up of participating cars behind the commentator podium. The air is musty, the odor of wet dirt from a quick August shower earlier that day.
When the first round of vehicles start revving their engines, Frankie pulls some earphones for Gabi and secures it to her head. Once he’s sure she’s comfortable, he quickly runs you through the basic rules. “So there’s several ‘heats’, and which heat you’re in is based on how many cylinders the car has. Last car moving is the winner, but you can’t just avoid the other cars the whole time. No continuing if your car starts sparking from the engine, no hitting the driver side door, and no hitting anyone who’s already out.”
“Wait, cars catch on fire in this?”
Before Frankie can answer, the announcer calls out the first heat and you almost choke at the state of the cars coming out. They were completely dilapidated, windows punched out and hood frames reinforced with extra steel. It looked like each entry had about 5 different parts all from different cars, horrendous paint jobs, and one of them even had a stuffed dinosaur duct taped to the hood. Some of them looked like they had already been hit by cars, parts hanging off and bumpers pressing in on itself. None of these cars would last at all. There’s no way...
The rink was surrounded by giant cement cinder blocks creating a large “rink” type area. The contestants lined the front bumpers of their vehicles up parallel to each other at the barricades separating the cars from the bleachers, alternately revving their engines during the countdown.
“Okay, so, usually we all pick the car we think is going to win.” Benny says. You lean forward to look over the assortment of jacked up cars for this heat, eventually settling on an old Toyota Corolla painted a matte black. Benny chooses the dino car, Will chooses a Dodge Stealth with it’s headlights hanging outside the socket, Dali and Pope argue over a Ford Taurus whose back end was already smashed into the back seats, and Frankie chooses a Chevy Impala, which you immediately regret not taking because it has such a long front and back end. Lots of room for smashing and being able to keep going.
Gabi jumps up and down on Frankie’s lap as he points out things to her over the sounds of engines and a countdown, and then the cars are off off, engines roaring and dirt kicking up as they all reverse at full speed, several of them crunching up in the middle while others circle around the perimeters.
It soon becomes clear to you that there is no rhyme or reason to which car makes it and which doesn’t. Pope’s Taurus didn’t even start and is eliminated after 2 minutes of no movement, and whoever is driving the boxy piece of shit Honda Accord that Dali had to select is a fucking maniac, winding and weaving at full speed backwards, hitting whoever gets in their way. Her choice is the winner of that heat.
Most of them are driving backwards, and Will tells you it’s because they are trying to protect the engine. You deflate in your seat a little in disappointment, but he assures you that as the heat winds down and there's fewer cars taking up the space, the drivers and announcer will get impatient and they will hit each other head to head.
You’re shocked at how much you enjoy it. At one point a car hits the passenger side door of another so hard that it is pushed up and onto the barricade wall from the inertia, hanging from an angle as the crowd jeers and shrieks in excitement. One car flips over completely, another’s engine bursts into flames and the crowd all starts crying out caution because the announcer can’t see it. You’ve never seen anything like it before and there was so much fire you were sure the whole thing would blow up, but the driver slid out the glassless driver’s side window like it was no big deal and walked it off.
There is something satisfying about two cars hitting each other at full speed, the bodies of them crunching, wheels hanging off axles, bumpers being dragged behind and run over by other drivers, cars with mangled pieces becoming stuck to each other so they can’t separate until another car hits them, tires completely gone and cars only moving on its hubs. It’s chaos in a safe format, a way to experience destruction and violence in a way that feels good and unharmful.
Gabi has never been so amazed in her entire life, her mouth hangs open and she wriggles against her dad to see everything, laughing every time a collision happens. The audience oohs and ahhs and boos and screams and cheers and teases, you and your friends join the clamor as you have your own mini competition with yourselves.
Giant fork tractors come into the arena area to lift the cars that can’t move anymore, some guys are able to get theirs back up and running, driving them to the sides to shape up for the final Battle Royale.
The final heat is fucking wild. All the cars that were already battered enough before they even began to come back out, returned to do another round for the final winner. With all the action you’d barely even noticed that contestants whose cars were still driveable had spent the remaining heats beyond the barricades hammering and reforming their vehicles enough to compete again.
And at the end, the winner of all faces the crowd, pulls off their helmet to reveal a thick curly mass of long hair. The winner is a woman. You and Dali cheer until your throats hurt.
It’s over too soon. There’s a mass exodus the instant the derby is over, the packed stadium standing and pouring down the stairs pressing so tight that you and your boys decide to hang back until it thins out. You lead the way, Frankie’s large and warm hand grazing your waist as you slowly move down the stairs and back out into the fair, turning to wait for the rest of your friends to make it out.
“What next?” Benny says when you are all reunited. “More food? Games? Rides?”
“I’m not eating more before getting on rides, let's do those now.” Says Frankie, grumbling as he hears you tease him with Benny. He whips his head around to glare at you. “Just you wait until you get older and start getting sick on rides, I cannot wait to make fun of you back.”
The wait for the ride tickets is long, but it leaves plenty of time for the group to decide how many are needed. Who is riding what, who isn’t, what pairings and who will watch Gabi on the rides she can’t do. You’re surprised when Will and Pope back out of the Zipper, leaving you and Benny as a pairing for that.
Riding it was a mistake. The ride is basically a giant airborne conveyer belt with completely enclosed containers for people hanging off it that were 360 degree capable. And it lasted FOREVER. You lose some of your funnel cake behind the ride out of sight, threatening violence on Benny if he outs you to the others.
But it didn’t stop you from riding The Freak Out immediately afterwards, a rotating pendulum swing that made you feel like you were going to be catapulted out of your seat. The ride seated 4 groups of 4 so that in between squeezing your eyes shut, you could catch watery glimpses of Benny red-faced and cackling hysterically, Will’s chants of “ohfuckohfuckohfuckOHfuckOHFUCKOHSHIT FUCCCCCCK!”, and Frankie looking…absolutely fine. It was almost disturbing really, he was calm and collected, the only hint that this might have been something other than a nice drive in his truck was his giant smile, the tears leaking from his squinted eyes, his chocolate curls whipping around in the breeze as his hands clutch his hat in his lap with a steel grip.
“How the fuck were you so calm?!” You gasp as you stumble off the rickety landing platform. You hadn’t moved yet you felt like you had run a mile, your heart was beating so fast from the adrenaline it almost felt like you might have a heart attack.
Frankie shrugs. “Feels like a copter in a bad air current.”
You simply stare blinking.
“No, he’s always like this. Like this one time, we were flying in a helo over the Andes mountains, and—”
A sharp stare from Frankie that he tries to hide from you makes Benny backpedal.
“Uhhh yea we were flying over some mountains and the air current was wild but we got over the mountains just fine and everything was fine and we were fine.”
Your heart seizes in your chest, that same feeling of not being told something creeping up. You hate it. You push it back down, swallowing heavily to center yourself. “So I assume you were fine.”
“Yea. Yea. Cat is a good pilot.”
You hum, the panic still not leaving your chest.
Frankie grabs your hand as you walk. “It happened a lot, I just got used to it.”
“It happened a lot?”
“Yea. I mean, sometimes we were flying through shit climates, sometimes even pursued. Doesn’t make for a smooth ride. I’m just used to it. They always scream bloody murder though.” Frankie smiles softly.
“Oh.”
You go silent, continuing to walk to the next destination: the scrambler. You had already established you would not ride and Dali wanted some funnel cake herself, so she heads off while you stay off to the side with Gabi to watch, lost in your own thoughts.
“Just don’t fucking talk about that, none of that. That never happened.” Frankie seethes to Benny as they are strapped into the ride.
“Sorry dude, I can’t read your thoughts. I figured she knew.”
“No. I don’t want her to know. No one else needs to know about it.”
Benny falls silent, looking to Will beside him. Pope lowers his head, choosing to say nothing.
“Catfish…you have to.” Says Will.
“No the fuck I don’t. I never want her to know. If she knows…she’ll actually see ‘real me’. ‘Fuck-up me.” And I don't want her to yet. I don’t want to lose her yet. I don’t want her to be afraid. Stop fucking looking at me like that.”
They stop. But only because the ride starts, and they can’t see anything other than blurs.
You hate this feeling, this fluttering in your stomach like something is wrong but your heart knows, it knows it’s fine. It has to be. Your mind is spinning, trying to combat the rising anxiety clenching in your chest, doing gymnastics to find reasons to not be alarmed.
He’s not lying about something. He’s not. …He promised….I’m just overthinking this…
You can’t. You refuse to even think about it. Confronting the terrible possibility that you might’ve done it again, you might have thrown yourself all in to someone only to—-no.
He’s not lying. He’s not. …He promised….he’s different. I’m just overthinking this…
You can feel butterflies bubbling in your stomach and you feel like you might throw up. Fucking men. You huff in frustration and try to distract yourself with your surroundings, watching people on rides, sharing funnel cake. Your eyes scan over two men staring at you silently by a skewered chicken cart and in your current mood it makes you furious.
“What the fuck are you staring at?!” You growl at them. They say nothing and slowly walk away, disappearing into the crowd. Fucking. Men.
You try not to let your emotions show. You sit back while Gabi goes on some rides for her age, using the time to rehydrate and calm yourself down. Living through Gabi’s joy helps.. She’s having a blast, choosing a different person to pair with for each time ride. Pope in the Wacky House, the Helicopters with her dad, Benny on the mini Viking ship. Once you feel better you join in to play bumper cars (Will and Gabi win) and ride the high-rise swings with her seated in the cool metal chair next to you, Benny singing along to the ambient speakers playing “Out of My League” so loud eventually all the other teens on the ride join in.You enjoy the mini coaster more than you thought you would considering it’s for kids Gabi’s age, you and Dali are the only others who can fit in the seats, no matter how hard Benny tried. It was easy to quickly forget.
After the coaster, Gabi begins to slow down, so you hit the fried oreo stand, paying for several batches despite protestation and alternately feeding everyone as the group slowly walks through the agricultural parts of the fair. It’s calmer here, the air warm and quiet. The pathway is less crowded so Gabi is able to frolic around on the walkway in front of you safely.
You walk through every barn, stopping to pet every animal. She’s a natural with them. Completely fearless, not one flicker of apprehension as she approaches cows and horses that are easily 6 times her height, paying close attention to her dad in how to not spook them. Everyone finds the goats to be the favorite because of the sounds they make. Even more so when Frankie engages in a screaming contest back and forth with a bunch of them until someone shoos them out of the pavilion.
Soon, all the sugar Gabi consumed rears its ugly head in the rabbit barn, she throws a fit when Frankie won’t let her get a pet rabbit and you only just catch her upper arm in time to keep her from collapsing on the filthy barn floor. You’re surprised she held out so long. Even you were crashing and getting tired. Also, the rabbits were ridiculously cute.
“Listen Gabi, how about we ride the ferris wheel? Would you like that?” You kneel before her, swiping the tears off her cheeks as she catches her breath. “It goes really high! Higher than the swings!” She nods, sniffing in a snot bubble as she takes your hand. The two of you lead the way, and as you get closer and closer, you start to regret your decision.
It’s much taller than the Freak Out. By more than 100 feet. It doesn’t look very stable either.
“Wait...this…this looks kind of high, don’t you think?” You turn to the guys, trying to conceal the wavering in your voice. You were scared enough at 70 feet. This was more like 200.
“Height requirement says she’s fine. And it’s enclosed, goes really slow. Come on.” Frankie takes you by the hand and your heart leaps into your throat, your feet skidding across the lawn as you try to pull back.
A light shove pushes you forward and you turn to glare at Will as he smirks down at you. “If you don’t go I’m never going to let you hear the end of it. Not after you called us “old and broken down.”
Well shit.
“Fine.”
You’re shaking when it’s your turn, the group mad dashing to three cars next to each other so you could talk throughout. Benny pairs with Pope, Gabi is vibrating with excitement as she’s put into a carriage by Will and Dali, and Frankie is beaming as he motions you towards the left car. He pats your butt as you gingerly step in, waiting until you’re seated before joining you and taking your hand.
“Babe…are you okay?”
You swallow, grateful it’s dark enough he can’t see you trembling. “Yep. I’m good.”
He leans forward in his seat, the glowing phosphorescence of the lights of the ride and around the fair bathing him halfway in a multicolored glow. tThe colors and shadows fold into the angles of his face like rainbow chiaroscuro, an angular stained glass window. He takes your hand again, yours is swallowed in his palm and you close your eyes as he rubs his thumb across the top. The dark beat of Depeche Mode pounds against your chest and echoes in your ears and you briefly imagine this is what it must feel like to drop acid.
“Your hands are really sweaty…and you’re breathing really fast. Are you sure you’re okay? Hey…” He squeezes your palm and you open your eyes to meet his. “It’s okay if you’re scared. I won’t joke anymore about it, I’m sorry.”
You swallow. “It’s just really really high.”
Frankie watches the ride operator out of the corner of his eye passing their car as he makes sure everyone is safely locked in before tugging on your arm slightly. You slide forward minutely, he meets you more than halfway with his large limbs and rests his hands on your hips. You gasp as the ride jolts and begins rolling, lifting the cabs up in the air. His calloused fingertip pushes your head back up.
“How about I distract you.” He murmurs, shifting forward one inch more, tilting his neck as his soft pouty lips meet yours.
You close your eyes, trying to lose your self awareness into him and his mouth and the soft skin of his nose that bumps your cheek and tickles your nose with its little breaths.
The lift mechanism suddenly shudders, clunking over something and it feels like when you run over a squirrel in your car. You inhale sharply against Frankie’s lips as your cab jostles back and forth. Not much, but enough for you to slam yourself back against your seat and clutch the seat bottom as hard as you can. Your heart beats wildly and you imagine the ride breaking and dropping you on the ground to be crushed to death by this stupid fucking metal cab.
You feel pressure on your knees and look down, focusing hard to not see double from fear. Frankie cups both in his hands, thumbs lightly stroking the inside of your thighs. “It’s okay.” He reassures, squeezing your knees once more. “Probably an under-greased cog, it’s nothing. They test these things like 50 times a day.”
You simply stare, forcing yourself to nod.
“Close your eyes.”
You open your mouth to argue then close it and obey. You trust Frankie, and it can’t be any worse.
“Just focus on me. And…you hear the music? It’s called “Enjoy the Silence.” I was obsessed with this song when it came out. And can you hear Benny below us? I can hear Gabi laughing too. We’re all okay, you’re okay too.”
You bite your lips into your mouth, focusing on the song and Frankie’s husky voice. The meditative synth pop calms you, and the carefree voices of your friends below does help calm you, but you can’t slow down your heartbeat.
“I’m okay. Just too much adrenaline.”
The hands on your knees slide up your bare thighs and wrap around the bottoms of them. Frankie pulls you forward in your seat with a smirk. “I’m feeling a little amped up too.”
“Frankie.”
He doesn’t respond, his sole focus on your thighs as his hands slide up and up and up until he is just able to slip the tip of one of his fingers under one leg of your shorts. For some reason, it pisses you off.
“Frankie!” You hiss. “People could see us.”
“Nah…” He shushes you, his finger sliding lower.
You clamp your legs shut and push his hand back in his direction. “Frankie, I don’t want to right here.”
He sits up. “Oh.”
Suddenly you hear Benny’s voice from below. “Hello we are underneath you guys! I don’t want to hear any hooking up sounds!” He trolls, and you fully push Frankie back to his side, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.
It’s the first time you can remember that it’s ever been uncomfortably awkward between the two of you, and you’re not sure why. The silence seems so much more noticeable and weird against the clanking of the Ferris wheel gears and the chattering of random other people.
You’re not even looking at each other, you realize. When did that happen? Your neck cranes to the left as you gaze at the stars, and when you turn back towards Frankie, he is looking to the right and down at the fair.
“…Is everything okay?”
His eyes snap back to yours. “Yea? Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Cause I pushed you away, and…I dunno, you’re being weird..”
“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s not intentional. I’m not upset, c’mere.” He opens his arms wide to you, scooting on his bench so there’s enough room for you.
You hesitate. “Won’t it…won’t it throw off the balance?”
You feel ridiculous asking but he doesn’t laugh at you, just shakes his head slightly. “Nah, they wouldn’t be able to run this ride if people couldn’t sit on the same side.”
You balance awkwardly on the edge of your bench overanalyzing what exact moment during the track of the ride to launch onto his, but you overthink it and end up jostling the cab more than necessary. Frankie’s arms pull you into his side and you burrow your face in his neck as the cab continues to rock. The music fades from Depeche Mode to Lizzo to Lil’ Nas X (Will clearly enjoys that one) and then back to Lizzo, and you forget all about your uneasiness.
He was right. It did feel better being with him.
The ride does one more pass then rolls to a halt, letting off you with Frankie and Benny with Santiago. You hover at the exit for Will and Gabi, who have to wait for their cab to reach the platform before dismounting. Frankie takes your hand as you wait.
Gabby’s adrenaline rush runs out fast, and you spend the remainder of the fair eating more fried Oreos and playing games. Somehow you manage to beat them all at the water shooting game, which amps up the competitiveness to the point you’d rather just watch.
Which is how you end up at the “star” game.
“We’re so fucking good at this game, it pisses them off every time.” Laughs Benny, as he shoots the entire Star out perfectly with the gun that is specifically not given enough ammo to achieve this. You hop up on the far side of the counter to watch, noting the way each of you boys handles their weapon and the differences in each. Benny held his gun loosely, like he was relaxed and self assured. It almost seemed like you would be able to slap it out of his hands but you knew he still had an iron grip. Will was precise and, as you expected, “perfect form”. You could tell just from Pope’s posture change that he was the best shot on the team, you’d never seen him look so focused. Frankie held his with a tense white knuckle grip, the folding stock tucked against his shoulder joint. The tension carrying up his arms as his veins popped out in his forearms and biceps. He looked fucking good. And you wouldn’t consider yourself a “gun person.” In fact, you kind of hated them. But there just was something about a strong non-douchey man holding a rifle like that that activated you. Damn the patriarchy. Even Dali is a great shot, though not as good as the guys.
After a few rounds, the carnie finally stopped allowing your posse to keep playing, frustrated that somehow the rigging system didn’t work on your group. You lean back on your hands, your legs swinging against the wood counter, observing Benny arguing with the carnie with a smirk. Gabi is passed out in her stroller next to you as Frankie sidles up to you, feeding you a piece of Fried Reeses, then promptly kissing you so the taste floats between you.
He hums deeply, stepping closer to you til he’s between your legs. His hands rest low on the top of your thighs. “This ok?”
You smile. “Yes. More than okay. And I want more.”
Frankie beams and cups your face, his lips crashing into yours as he all but breathes you in. You tilt your head and poke his mouth with your tongue. He responds immediately and opens for you, meeting you halfway. You whine softly as his hands leave your cheeks and trail down your back, one hand sneaking a bit lower to discreetly cup your ass. You’ve just wound your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck when you hear a shrill voice cut through the din of the dwindling crowd.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Your heart slams to a halt so fast it hurts. You recognize that voice. And so does Frankie. Your heads both snap to the left as a disheveled looking Lex stands there with a bunch of her friends.
Frankie simply stares. She repeats herself. “Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me. The BABYSITTER? Are you fucking your BABYSITTER??? Oh Frankie…come on…how pathetic can you be? She’s like a child!”
You look at Frankie, receding into himself like a silent, terrified puppy. You’ve never seen him like this before, it unnerves you.
“Excuse me.” You snap back. “I am 28.”
She scoffs. I fucking knew something was going on with you two. And you’re doing this in front of my child?”
“Well, actually, Gabi is sleeping. At least she was, until you came ranting and raving.” You make eye contact with Pope, who reads your perfectly and starts steering Gabi’s stroller away so she can’t hear. “We made sure to be careful for her but why do you even care if we are fucking? You left him! You didn’t want him anymore, so it shouldn’t fucking matter who he dates.”
“He’s a drug addict and a pathological liar. He will NEVER change.”
“Yea? And you are a drunk, controlling, OCD bitch who can’t mind her own fucking business. He’s happy with me. I trust him. Unlike you. Bye.” You couldn’t help yourself, you just fucking hated her.
But that set her off. “Did he tell you why he was suspended?”
“Yes, he—“
“Did he tell you he was high, flying a family and he almost injured everyone from a sloppy landing? Did he tell you how he would take Gabi to his drug dealers house with him? How he went on a STUPID fucking mission with these idiots to burglarize a fucking drug lord completely off paper? That I deliberately asked him not to because we had a new baby? That he crashed their helicopter, dropped all their money and shot innocent villagers to keep them from getting it? At children and old men adn women? That because of that, Molly’s husband was shot in the fucking head by one of those people? And then they couldn’t even bring the money back so it was all for no reason?”
She’s shouting now, spittle flying from her inebriated lips. One of her friends tries to grab her arm but she shakes them off. People in the crowd are starting to stop and watch. “Then, THEN, he treated me like shit, saying horrible things to me just when he was mad, throwing things, scaring me!”
You feel like you can’t breathe, it’s too much information all at once. “...What? I don’t…No. no, he said he was on a delta mission–”
“Oh sweetheart,” She sneers condescendingly. “He was on a greed mission. He was retired from delta. This was like a year ago. They all wanted to get rich and robbed a fucking drug kingpin and Frankie shot innocent people to make sure he got alllllll that money. And because of that, his friend was shot and killed and his family has NO idea why. He lied to you.”
You turn to look at him, and all his friends. Everyone is silent, trying not to look up from the ground. Dali looks as bewildered as you. “Frankie…?” Tears water in your eyes and you feel like your heart is going to burst. You thought he told you it was an enlisted mission, but on top of everything else you just learned your thoughts are rushing so fast you can’t seem to remember specifics.
Frankie can’t even look at you. And that’s how you know.
It’s true…
“Lex. Stop.” Will’s Southern drawl cuts through the silence, the commanding officer in him coming out. “It’s over. This shit between you two has to stop. Enough.” His eyes shift to Lex’s friends, who are nodding and repeating the same thing. Lex finally allows them to pull her away muttering under her breath, sending one last glare in your direction.
The walk to the truck is silent. The ride home is a foggy blur. But the minute you step into the house, you crack.
“Frankie please tell me all this is not true.” You can’t read him at all, his face is completely blank as he moves around you towards Gabi’s bedroom to tuck her in.
So you wait.
His hackles are already up when he comes back out.
“Frankie–”
“Yea.”
“Well?”
“Yea. It’s true. We tried to steal money from one of Pope’s cases and it backfired and Tom got shot.”
“Because of you.”
His expression changes then, from blank nothing to vicious defensive anger. “Yea. Because of me. I fucked up the flight back and we crash landed and these fuckin’ villagers were gonna take the money! And it was an accident!”
“You ‘accidentally’ shot innocent people?”
He swallows, his jaw clenching and unclenching. You can see he’s doing mental gymnastics in order to avoid accountability.
“Did your finger slip?”
No answer.
“Frankie. Did your finger slip on the trigger?”
You already know the answer before he says it. And somehow it’s like he morphs into a Disney villain as he says it. “No. My finger didn’t slip.”
It burns, the sharp pain in your heart that makes you feel like it’s having a seizure or forgot how to pump blood or is pumping too much blood. “How many people did you kill.”
He shrugs. “I dunno.”
“You don’t know? How can you not know?! Frankie, you told me this was your job! You- you fucking lied to me! I-I I asked you if you were hiding anything else from me and you fucking lied to me!” You can’t help your voice raising, the tears spilling out of your eyes as you realize how fucking stupid you had been. Somewhere in the background you can hear Gabi has woken and is hysterically crying. Frankie, clearly having enough, turns back towards her room. But you continue, screaming at his back. “And that’s why Tom is dead? And his family doesn’t know why?!”
Frankie doesn’t answer and suddenly you are enraged. You run behind him and shove him forward. “I’m fucking talking to you! How can you just be so fucking blase about this??? And…all that other shit???—I feel like I don’t know you at all!”
He whirls around, that furious murderous face you ‘ve seen him give others is finally directed at you. “Because you don’t!” He screams back, his teeth nash and he shoves a finger one inch from your face. You flinch.
“Frankie, you’re scaring me.”
“I’m scaring you? Really? I thought this was your thing?”
You blink, confused, tears stalling on your face. “Don’t–” You plead softly.
“No, Lex is right. You’re a naive little girl who thinks she can save worthless idiots like me and live some fucking fantasy happily ever after. You won’t. You can’t. I’m unfixable.”
“How can you say that!! Frankie, I love you!
He scoffs. “I know you think you do. And I know you aren’t stupid, you told me you’ve done this before. But guess what sweetie, you aren’t better, you’re still doing it because you’re so fucking desperate for someone to love you. You don’t love me. You just want to feel like some fucking savior.”
“No! No… I didn’t, I don’t…you told me you loved me!”
“I wanted to fuck you.” His eyes are black as far, it’s like you don’t even recognize his face anymore. Lex was right. Lex was right. How…did you make all of it up in your head?
“You…You’re a fucking psycho…I feel like you emotionally manipulated me into caring for you only for you to play games with me! I specifically told you I couldn’t go through this again and you fucking did it anyway!”
“Hey, you kissed me. And you were fun to fuck, I will admit that. Let me do fucking anything. But we both knew this would happen. You set yourself up. I did shoot those villagers. I caused Tom’s death. I just wanted the fucking money. And I wanted to kill a bunch of kids too, when they got in my way. Fuckin’ teenagers and I told Pope to fucking shoot them all. And you know what else? We went back and got all that fucking money we hid, and we are fucking swimming in it. And I didn’t share a goddamn dime with my ex. You’re right. I am a psycho, so it’s a good thing this is over. Pack your shit and leave me alone.”
“Fuck you Frankie.”
You don’t wait another moment. You don’t need to be asked twice this time. You shove him aside on your way down the hallway, doing everything you can not to let the second round of tears fall. He’d seen enough.
You slam the door of the master bedroom behind you, frantically bouncing around different points in the room to grab all your shit. When did all of this stuff even get here? Anxiety bubbles up your chest until you can’t take it anymore and say fuck it, he can just throw anything else out. I have to get out of here.
You rush back down the hallway like a speed demon, praying to whatever that he won’t be standing in the hallway still. He isn’t. He’s sitting on his couch facing away from you, his head in his hands. You hate yourself for wanting to go comfort him. He’s right…I’m
not better…
You pause on the front doorway, struggling to say what needs to be said. Don’t be weak. Don’t keep letting people do this to you over and over. “Don’t contact me.I never want to see you again.” You say to his back.
He doesn’t move a muscle, or even look at you. “You won’t.”
You were able to make it halfway across the lawn before the grief fully hit. By the time you got to your car you were gasping like you were no longer able to breathe. And the minute your car door shut you broke, a wailing sob bursting from your lips as you bury your face in your palms.
Again. It happened again. And it’s just as crushing as every other time, except now it feels like you never healed from the others and now they are all piling on top of the other with this one as the final blow.
Why. WHY? Was there something wrong with you? Why were you never enough? Why couldn’t you make them stay? What did you do to keep having to go through this? It almost killed you last time, your eyes squeeze shut as you remember the look on your parents face as they watched you writhe on your bed screaming and crying hysterically from your latest breakup.
And why did you let yourself fall into it again, like you had never learned a goddamn thing. It was like you were masochistic, you told yourself you would never need someone again so badly, you wouldn’t enmesh yourself so fully that when it fell apart you could barely function. Your heart was once again ripped out of your chest and thrown to the floor, the cracks from before making this shattering into pieces so small you know it can’t get repaired again.
With a trembling whimper, you pull your face out of your hands and wipe your eyes, your nose. You realize you’re still sitting in Frankie’s driveway and you immediately look to see if he's at the window, concerned for you. He isn’t. You hate yourself for it but it breaks you even more.
It’s over.
You drive home mindlessly, your Spotify on shuffle and you aren’t aware of anything else. Just get home. Just get home and then you can cry, try to move on. But you already know you won’t.
You finally tire yourself out of tears, and you try to talk yourself up, turning up the music and chanting “it’s okay” to yourself.
It’s Coldplay. You always liked Coldplay.
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try, you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you…
Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face, and I–
You slam the on/off button so hard you actually cause the auxiliary cord to malfunction, so you rip it out of your phone and throw the damn thing on the passenger seat. You drive home in silence.
It’s dark in the lot when you arrive. You park in a spot along the side and towards the back because the lot is mostly full. The only light shining is the pole yards away, the bulb switches off and on opposite of the dark one right above you.
You feel numb. You can still feel sticky dried tears on your face, but your ability to utter a sound is gone. You close your eyes and try to compose yourself, simply sitting in your car in the dark. You’re avoiding going upstairs, you know. You’ve pretty much been living at Frankie’s. Walking through that door would make it feel too ‘official’. You cover your face with your hands and rub the tears tracks off your raw face, and are about to take a breath and gather your shit when a THWACKING sound bursts right in your left ear.
You startle with a yelp and look out your window, prepared to tell off whoever is messing with you, but freeze when you find yourself face to face with the barrel of a gun, the only thing separating you from it is the shitty window glass on your cheap car.
»»———————►
Post A/N: Don't yell at me lol
#fix you fic#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x fem!reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal x fem!reader#triple frontier fanfic
319 notes
·
View notes
Text
Beautiful Disaster (9)
← Chapter 8 • series masterlist • Chapter 10 →
↳ 9 | Disclosure
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader
Satoru comes to visit and you share details from your past
words: 7.2k
cw: oral sex, slight face-fucking, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, creampie
Taglist • Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists
Last night, after getting home from shopping, you locked yourself away in your room, not bothering to come down for dinner or to speak with anyone the rest of the day.
You’ve laid in your bed, thinking about Satoru and all the times you’ve expressed your worries over Mei and how he’s dismissed them each time.
A few tears escape the corner of your eye as you stare at the ceiling, feeling betrayed. You’ve worked too hard on yourself over the last year to be in this position again, still surrounded by betrayal.
“I’m just asking that you put the toilet seat down when you’re finished.”
“No. You’re nagging like you always do.”
Closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, you grab your headphones off the nightstand next to your bed, put them on, and lay back on your bed, wishing you were literally anywhere but here. Your mother and her boyfriend have been constantly bickering.
“I wouldn’t have to nag if you did some little things around the house! I’m always picking up after you.”
“I do all of the shopping, on top of finishing my courses and internship. I think that allows me some wiggle room to forget to put the toilet seat down every now and again.”
Unfortunately, you’re still able to hear their muffled argument through the music playing, causing you to roll your eyes so hard you’re convinced they’ll get stuck in the back of your head. It’s like clockwork with them; the petty argument that starts is inevitably going to turn into something much, much bigger.
“It’s pretty convenient that all of these things you suddenly need to do are out of the house and away from me! Are you cheating on me?!”
Trilling your lips, you decide to roll out of bed, grab and bag and throw in a week's worth of clothes, along with any toiletries you’ll need until you head back to Tokyo Tech.
Your mother is about to throw a tantrum, you can tell, and depending on his answer will determine how bad it’s going to be. In any case, you can’t stand to be around this any longer.
Grabbing your phone, you stare at the contact list for several minutes trying to decide where you’d want to stay. Before yesterday you would have tried calling Satoru but that’s clearly not an option. He’s probably too busy gallivanting around Tokyo with his girlfriend anyway.
Your Aunt is probably your best bet right now. She’ll understand why you need to get away from the house and it’ll give you someone to talk to so you’re not dwelling on Satoru the rest of the beak.
“Are you fucking serious right now? You know all of the responsibilities I have. I’m trying to graduate and get a job right away so I can help support you and take care of the house!”
“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were cheating. It’s how we met, isn’t it?”
This is certainly not a conversation you can manage listening to right now. Not after everything with Satoru. And it’s not one you care to relive, having heard it all last Winter break.
Memories of your freshman year quickly race through your mind of how last year you were stuck in your room, crying over a different boy who had broken your heart. How you’re doing the same thing this year.
You think of Satoru and all the nights the two of you spent together, talking about your futures, slowly breaking down each other’s walls. And how happy he looked yesterday, out and about with his family and Mei.
The thought makes your stomach churn.
After packing your belongings and making your way to the foyer, you chew on your bottom lip for a moment debating on interrupting their spat to tell your mom where you’re headed but decide against it. She’ll be pissed you left without saying anything, but you’ll text her later, or tomorrow morning, and your Aunt will likely help diffuse the situation as well.
It’s not like she’s really going to notice you’ve left since you spend the majority of your time at home in your room hiding away from everyone who lives here.
Her boyfriend had moved in over the break, which means there’s rarely a break from either of them. Before, your mom would either just leave, letting you assume she was out with him or he would stay over, but only for a day or two max.
But this last week has been constant; he’s here 24/7, moving in boxes and listening to their many, many disputes during that short time.
Throwing on your jacket, you open the front door and your breath is immediately whisked away.
Not from the brisk air that fills your lungs when you gasp, but rather from the sight of the white-haired man you’d been calling your boyfriend these last few months, walking up the steps of the front porch.
He looks up at the sound of the door squeaking, hands thrown in his pants pockets to protect them from the cold. He looks good, like always; hair as white as the snow on the ground, crystalline eyes shining at the sight of you, a wide grin spreading across his face.
You stand and stare at him, bile threatening to rise to your throat at the unexpected surprise, “How did you get my address?”
Discussing where you live was always as simple as him stating he lives in Tokyo and you in Kyoto. Never specifics about where let alone sharing addresses.
“Uh,” he chuckles awkwardly, scratching at his undercut, “talked Toji into giving it to me so I could surprise you.”
You nod slowly, rolling your eyes and huffing out a quiet “huh,” before making your way past him, down the front steps to the sidewalk.
Satoru knits his brows at your reaction. He was expecting something a little happier from you, maybe even some excitement since you haven’t really been able to talk the last week.
“Hey, you okay?” He asks, grabbing your elbow, and halting your movements.
“Fantastic. You saw me, you can go back home now.”
“I just got here. What did I already do that’s so wrong?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe ghosting me as soon as break started. Maybe going out shopping with Mei yesterday when I haven’t heard from you. Take your pick.”
Satoru clicks his tongue before pursing his lips, “You saw that, huh?”
“You’re unbelievable.” You’re pulling your arm from his grasp as you continue towards the sidewalk, heading towards the train station.
Satoru watches you for a moment before gliding next to you, easily able to catch up with his long legs, “I didn’t want to go shopping with her.”
You hum in annoyance, “I could tell you were absolutely devastated, which is probably why you haven’t bothered answering any of my calls and texts.”
“Hey, don’t be like that.” Satoru sighs, “I’m sorry for not reaching out more, I haven’t had time to. Yesterday and today are the only free days I’ve had.”
“And you chose to spend one with Mei.”
“My mom asked her to tag along, not me. I wanted you to come with us.”
You roll your eyes, “Right. Because you put in so much effort to ask.”
“I tried calling!”
“Once! No voicemail, no texts? Just stop lying to me already.”
Satoru runs his hands through his hair, brows furrowed in frustration, “Why do you always think I’m lying to you?!”
“Well, you have a history of being a slut, so it’s not out of the realm of possibilities.”
“Okay, but not with you. Can you just-” Satoru grabs your hand so you stop and turn to face him. “My dad has been making me work long days at the firm, says it’ll help me get into better law schools if I already have experience. I get home and I’m exhausted. I didn’t mean to make you feel neglected.”
He pulls you into his chest, wrapping his long arms around your shoulders, and setting his chin on the top of your head. Your forehead is pressed to his chest; he always smells so good, and you’ve missed the sweet scent of bergamot and honey.
“I wanted you to come out with us yesterday.” His voice is hushed as you press yourself closer to him, feeling the vibrations of his voice as he speaks, heart still heavy despite his words, “I didn’t realize my mom invited Mei until we were about to leave and she showed up at the house. I was pissed but had to put on a show for her. I missed you and I’m here now.”
You pull away and Satoru can see your contemplative expression, still unsure if you want him to be around, if you forgive him, “I just… I don’t know, Satoru.”
“Well, it’s a three-hour bullet train ride back to Tokyo, so you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
A smile threatens to tug at the corner of your lips so you look away because, of course, he’s not going to just leave. You knew that once you saw him. And he’s just happy to have some sort of positive reaction from you.
“I’m actually headed in that direction now.”
Pulling out your phone, you find your Aunt’s number, letting her know you’re headed over for the week and that you have an unexpected guest with you.
The train station is loud and crowded, people from all over coming through to go shopping or visit family.
There was a part of you that thought he would be annoyed, having traveled all the way to Kyoto, only to be there for a few minutes and then heading back towards Tokyo. But he looks like he’s having a great time, stopping at almost every stall to look at souvenir shops that have been set up along the walkways and in the underground.
“Why didn’t you drive?” You ask curiously as Satoru walks back, opening a small box of chocolates to share with you.
“That would have taken too long. Wanted to see you sooner rather than later, plus, I didn’t feel like driving. Want anything?” He asks, stopping at a pastry stand.
Satoru sees the way you’re staring at him; standoffish, weary and clearly not in the mood to have him around. But that’s okay, because he knows you’ll come around, even if it takes a few hours.
Trilling your lips, you make your way to the stand looking at all the crepes and shortcakes they have to offer.
You point to a few of them, telling the worker which ones you’d like before pointing to a few of the shortcakes, “these are my Aunts favorite.”
“We’ll take six of those, too.”
You laugh lightly, “with your sweet tooth, they’ll be gone before we get to her house.”
“Nah,” Satoru bumps his shoulders into your playfully, “that’s why I got extra.”
It takes a few hours by bullet train to get to Kawasaki City, and you’re quiet most of the way there, eventually falling asleep in your seat, resting your head on Satoru’s shoulder.
He missed you and really couldn’t get away to contact you, but he knows he should have put in more effort. At the very least a text in the morning or at night to check in.
But Satoru really doesn’t understand the big deal about Mei and why you’re so uncomfortable with her. They really are just friends, even if Mei is kind of a bitch from time to time. He’s used to having a different girl around his arm all the time but the fact that he’s trying with you should mean something, but it doesn’t seem good enough.
Your mood seems to have lightened when you arrive at your stop and wake up, gracing Satoru with a small smile before exiting the train. He walks with you, a hand at the small of your back as he leads you through the train station.
He’s never met the parents, or any other relative, of anyone he’s dated before, with the exception of Mei’s, but that’s because of family business rather than actually wanting to meet them.
He’s indifferent on meeting your Aunt, really just wanting to spend as much time with you as he can before he has to go back home.
Your Aunt Nagi’s house is small but clean, neat, and well-kept. She lives in one of the safer neighborhoods with her son, your cousin, Junpei.
“Hi, sweetie,” she greets with bright eyes when you walk through the threshold of the front door with Satoru in tow. She’s cleaning off several snacks and soda cans that have been left on the living room table, “Is this your friend?”
You nod, doing a simple introduction between the two before Satoru steps forward handing the bag of goodies to Nagi, “heard these were your favorites.”
Her eyes flicker between the two of you as she smiles, accepting the bag and looking at the contents inside, “these are perfect. I’ll save them for a special occasion.”
“Is Junpei here?” You question, leisurely walking around the house, looking at the various family photos hanging on the wall. Even though the space is small, Nagi has been able to give the space a very homey feel, filling it with family photos, mostly of Junpei.
One, in particular, catches your attention because you’re surprised to see Yuji in it. The photo has a young girl with orange hair yelling at Yuji, while Junpei laughs. There is also another kid, one with spiky black hair who appears to be annoyed.
“No. He’s staying the night with a few friends he met this year at school. They’re a great group of kids and they really hit it off.”
You hum, looking at several of the other photos. There are a few of you and Junpei playing when you were younger that you’ve never seen before. In your own home, the only photos of yourself are the ones you’ve hung in your room. Your mother doesn’t keep any family photos up, and you’re not sure she even has any.
Satoru makes his way into the living room, bending down by a rack of movies and checking out the collection. You know the stack well, mostly comedy and romance, Nagi’s movies. Junpei is more into B-movies but typically keeps those stashed away in his room.
“Satoru likes to watch cheesy horror movies. Thought maybe he and Junpei would hit it off, could talk about which ones they’ve seen.”
“We’ll see if he comes home. He may end up staying the week with his new friends. You know how he is.”
Nagi has always been the opposite of your own uptight, controlling mother. She’s the more relaxed of the two, trusts Junpei enough to let him run around on his own and make his own choices, hoping he’ll come to her when and if needed.
The last time you had seen your cousin, he was a loner, spending most of his time cooped up in his room watching movies. He’s always been quiet and shy but it’s nice to learn he’s made some friends during his freshman year of high school, especially since you’ve met Yuji, you know he’s in good hands.
“Now, Satoru,” Your Aunt calls into the living room. He looks up and gives a charming smile before walking over and placing his arm around your waist and a kiss on your temple, “are there any foods you don’t like or are allergic to?”
“Nope!”
“Liar. He eats like a tiny child.” Satoru pouts as you scold him before chuckling.
Satoru is great at making small talk, something you’re not quite as skilled in. He talks with Nagi about her work, and what she likes to do in her free time. He even asks a few questions about Junpei.
And just like everyone else who meets Satoru, you can tell she’s immediately charmed and impressed by him.
You’re not sure how you feel about him tagging along, and since you’re so close to Tokyo you wonder if he’ll end up going home tonight and relaxing before the weekend is over.
There hasn’t been much of an opportunity to sort out your feelings on seeing him with Mei yesterday, aside from your initial reaction. Your mother ended up following you back home after your abrupt announcement of wanting to head home.
Of course, the entire way back she complained about how you cut her shopping trip short and ruined the time she was trying to spend with you. Only to arrive back home and find her boyfriend there, spending the rest of the evening and morning listening to their incessant arguing.
During their conversation, you get up and check the fridge, finding several vegetables that need to be cut up for dinner, so you pull those out, along with a cutting board and sharp knife to chop them up.
“How are things with your mom?” Nagi asks, walking to the fridge and opening a beer before leaning on the counter as you wash the vegetables.
Your blood runs cold at the question. It’s not something you like talking about. You also can't help but wonder what Satoru would think about the things you have to say. He doesn’t really know anything about your relationship with her, or anything that’s happened in the past.
“The same as they always are,” you answer honestly, accidentally fumbling with the green onions and dropping a few of the smaller chopped pieces on the floor.
One thing that’s great about Nagi is she’ll never pressure you for more information than you’re ready to give. She’ll express her interest in a topic, but if you’re not ready to talk about it, she’ll let you come back to the discussion in your own time.
As you bend over to grab the green onion pieces, Nagi watches as Satoru’s eyes flicker across your frame, his eyes landing on your ass as you busy yourself with the task at hand.
He smiles slightly, when your shirt rides up slightly, showing the small of your back, laughing quietly as you fight with it to stay down as you finish picking up the onion off the floor. And he wonders if you’ve missed him half as much as he’s missed you, but his thoughts are cut short when he notices Nagi watching him with an amused expression.
Satoru flashes his brows while pursing his lips before clearing his throat, “I’ll take the trash out.”
From behind, you can hear Satoru messing with the trash, pulling the bag out, and making his way out the front door to dispose of it. You’d venture to guess he’s just giving you and your Aunt room to talk, free of his presence.
Once Satoru has made his way out the front door, Nagi asks, “So… is he your boyfriend?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess.” You reply quietly, “We’ve been together a few months.”
She nods, sitting at the dining table and sipping on her beer, “uh-oh, trouble in paradise?”
“No, no. Things are… great.”
“But?”
You sigh heavily, biting your lip, contemplating how to answer but decide it’s best to just go with honesty, “But he has this ex… he says they’re just friends, but I don’t know, she just always seems to be around. And I went shopping with Mom yesterday in Tokyo and saw him out with her. He says his Mom invited her but I’ve hardly heard from him all week and then all the sudden he’s out with Mei when I didn’t even have any idea they were going to be shopping, and-”
“Okay, okay. I get it,” She interrupts with wide eyes, prompting you to take a deep breath, “Are you sure you’re not looking too into it because of some trust issues from your ex? I mean it would be understandable if it was.”
“Maybe... I just, I don’t know, he’s got a reputation for getting around too. He says it’s not like that with me, but there’s a part of me that’s always wondering, you know?”
“Has he met your Mom?” Nagi asks as Satoru comes back through the door, giving a flirty grin when he sees you look back at him, giving a soft smile.
“God no, and I never want that to happen,” you zone out for a moment thinking about how disastrously bad it was last time your significant other met your mother, not paying attention to how hard you’re cutting the vegetables causing the knife to slip from your hand slicing one of your fingers, “Shit.”
Satoru is by your side in an instant, turning on the cold water so you can run your finger through it, trying to help stop the bleeding.
“There are some bandaids in the bathroom. Satoru and I can handle cleaning up and finishing dinner.”
He kisses your temple before you grab your finger, walking off to the bathroom to disinfect and put a bandage on the cut. While turning the cold water to hot and letting it warm up so he can clean the knife, Nagi grabs a new one to finish cutting the remaining vegetables. She instructs Satoru where to find a pot and to bring some broth to a boil so she can throw the vegetables in.
“Guys like you,” Nagi starts when she hears the door to the bathroom click shut, finishing the last of her beer, “are always trouble.”
Satoru stops stirring the broth, furrowing his brows, looking at Nagi who is watching him from the corner of her eye as she gathers the vegetables to put them in the pot.
He’s aware he’s lacking, isn’t necessarily the greatest boyfriend of all time. He is trying, and he thinks you know that, but he also can’t help but wonder what you’ve said about him.
“I don’t think you know much about me.”
“That’s probably true,” she’s grabbing another can from the fridge, opening it with a satisfying crack before sitting at the dining table again, hand on her chin as she smiles at Satoru, “but I’ve been with plenty like you.”
“And what kind of guy is that?” Satoru questions, turning his back to the counter, and folding his arms over his chest.
“Pretty, and they know it,” Satoru smirks quickly flashing his brows, “terrible at maintaining relationships, goes through girls quickly. If you’re serious about her, try not to hurt her. She’s been through enough.”
You haven’t really opened up to Satoru about your past, really avoiding any conversation that has to do with your family. He’s aware there hasn’t been a lot of focus on who the two of you are outside of your relationship with one another.
He’s just assumed you were someone who liked to live in the present, that’s how it’s always seemed to him. But now Nagi has piqued his interest and he wants to know why that is.
“What do you mean?”
Nagi sighs, “She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”
The door to the bathroom opens, and Satoru looks up giving you a boyish, lopsided grin, “I am serious about her. Don’t worry.”
Nagi finishes cooking dinner while Satoru checks on you and your finger, playfully kissing it several times to make it feel better.
During dinner, you and Nagi swap stories about your childhood, some funny, some incredibly embarrassing. Like when she got pregnant with Junpei and you thought you could get pregnant by sharing a bottle of water with someone, so you refused to drink after anyone for years.
Satoru listens, watching as you animatedly tell story after story, laughing and joking with your Aunt until dinner is over. After, you show Satoru where the spare room is and get it ready for him while he cleans up dinner.
Nagi, on the other hand, laughs and stumbles her way to her bedroom from drinking a little too much, bidding the two of you goodnight.
What Nagi said is still on Satoru’s mind. He needs to know what happened in your past, regardless of if she thinks you’ll tell him when you’re ready.
There’s also been another question he’s had since walking up the steps to your house this morning.
“Who was that guy in your house this morning?” Your brows come together in confusion when you walk back into the kitchen. You’re quiet, waiting on him to clarify, “When I was walking up the porch, I saw a guy in the window. Looks our age.”
Based on the social media posts he found back before the two of you started dating, he already has an idea of who this person might be. What he really wants to know is what he was doing at your house, especially so early in the morning.
You nod slowly, biting your top lip, taking a deep breath, “That was, uhm, my ex, Kenji.”
Satoru folds his arms over his chest, this time waiting for you to continue, hoping Kenji wasn’t there as some sort of retaliation to seeing him with Mei.
You stare at him for a while, not really wanting to delve into your past at a time like this, but you know you have to. Someone has to take the first step to move your relationship along, and you know it won’t be him. He’s too nonchalant about so many things, and even though he’d never admit it, he doesn’t want anyone to get too close.
Hopefully, this will encourage him to open up to you about his family and life outside of college as well.
“We dated last year. Met over the summer at a party. We hit it off immediately, went to the same college, and did everything together, or so I thought.” You laugh to yourself at the irony, “I fell in love with him, and he… fell in love with my Mom.”
Satoru laughs, watching as your face distorts in discomfort, “good one.”
“Satoru… I’m serious.”
He’s quiet, eyes flickering between yours, mouth opening and closing a few times before finally muttering, “Holy shit, that’s fucked up.”
“Yeah, it is. It’s also why I transferred to Tokyo Tech. I came home from my finals before Winter break and caught them fucking on the couch. Apparently, they had been seeing each other behind my back for several weeks. So… yeah. He moved in the other day and I just needed to get out of the house.”
“Why do you still live there?”
You scoff, “Where else am I supposed to go? Besides, I don’t have much of a choice if I want her to keep paying for my college. That was part of a deal we agreed on. I’d live at home during breaks, call her weekly, and she’ll pay my way. When I graduate, I can wash my hands of her completely.”
Satoru kicks off the counter, taking a step towards you, “Baby, I-”
You hold your hand up, stopping him because you just need to get the rest out, and if he stops or changes the conversation, it’ll never be said, “That whole situation… It’s, um, probably affected my views on relationships, more than I care to admit. I just- I can’t go through something like that again.”
He nods, as you purse your lips, heart beating rapidly and palms sweaty from the conversation, “I’m gonna go shower and get ready for bed.”
You tried your best to hold your composure in front of him because you should be over what happened last year. You’ve moved on; changed schools, and spent a lot of time working on yourself.
But when you undress and turn the handle to turn on the water of the shower, you can’t help but notice the goosebumps on your skin and the way your hands shake before stepping into the shower, letting hot water run down your face as you warm up.
It’s nerve-wracking, to let someone further into your life, opening up to them and sharing something that’s so personal and makes you so vulnerable. Even if it’s to be closer to him, it doesn’t make the conversation any less gut-wrenching.
Of course, things could go the other way too.
You could have scared him away. He could think you’re too fucked up, that you have too much baggage, more than he signed up for, and when you get out of the shower, he could be long gone.
You’re lost in thought, staring at the white wall in front of you as water soaks your hair, running down your face. Your eyes are becoming red, a few tears threatening to slip out and join the shower water running down the drain at the thought of this being too much for him and leaving.
But he doesn’t. You hear the sound of something rustling outside the shower curtain before Satoru slowly opens it, slipping in behind you. A cold chill runs through the shower and you cover your chest with your arms and squeeze your thighs closer together.
He’s seen you naked so many times, seen you in positions you couldn’t have ever imagined but tonight, right now, it’s like it’s the first time anyone has seen you. Vulnerable and exposed in a way you never have been before.
Satoru presses his forehead to the back of your head, hands caressing your shoulds and sides slowly before wrapping them around your waist, grabbing the arms covering your chest before whispering, “Don’t hide from me.”
You resist a little before relaxing, body still shaking despite the hot water, “I’m sorry that happened,” he says just loud enough for you to hear over the running water, “I can’t imagine what that was like for you, but I would never do that to you.”
He kisses your jaw and neck, one hand sliding between your breasts to wrap gently around your throat as he presses the evidence of his arousal into your ass.
Your brows furrow as his teeth graze the tender spot below your ear, “Is this why you came here?” You question, “For sex?”
“I missed you, but if you don’t want to, we won’t.” He sighs, clenching his jaw, before turning you around to face him, eyes searching all of your features as he uses his thumbs to wipe the water away from your cheek. “Let me make you feel good.”
Your relationship has always been very physical, that’s how it all started and it’s made you wonder if that might be why he chooses to stick around with you. But at the same time, you’ve also accepted that’s how he shows his adoration for you.
Satoru has never been great with expressing his feelings. Rather than using his words, he shows how he cares for you in grandiose displays, such as buying expensive gifts, taking your out, or getting permanent matching tattoos. But he can tell tonight you need something else, he needs to show his appreciation for you in a different way.
He steps forward until your back is pressed against the cool wall of the shower, kissing and licking your neck until he descends down to your clavicle, nipping and biting his way between the valley of your breasts and the center of your abdomen, placing two gentle kisses to each of hips.
There are small water droplets dripping from his bangs as he sits on his knees in front of you, looking up at you with love and adoration in his eyes. You watch with parted lips as he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, large hands on your hips to help keep you in place while you nimbly thread your fingers into his soft tresses.
The sound of the running water covers the soft gasps that leave your lips when Satoru places two soft kisses on the plush skin of your inner thighs before pressing one tenderly to your clit.
He runs two fingers between your folds, already feeling the wetness that’s formed from barely touching you. He watches with large eyes, as he flattens his tongue, licking a strip between your already wet folds, slowly, lazily.
You moan out, biting your lip, trying to not be too loud as you throw your head back when he sucks your clit lovingly, slipping two fingers inside, curling them against your g-spot, pumping, and thrusting.
Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand at this point, spending so many nights in his bed where he kissed every inch of you figuring out which ones made you giggle, squirm, cum in an instant and even squirt on occasion.
His cock is pressed to his abdomen, precum leaking from the tip as he watches your pretty lips and the way your stomach clenches each time he gives a particularly hard suck or grazes his fingers over the soft spot that makes you mutter a quiet, “right there.”
The tip of his cock is red and angry, begging for stimulation but he doesn’t want to stop because you’re telling him how much you missed this, missed him. You’re begging for more as you circle your hips against his tongue the best you can, hand gripping his hair, trying to pull him closer to your center as if it were possible.
A fire is burning in your belly and threatens to engulf you while Satoru watches in awe as your leg begins to shake around his shoulder, the other about to buckle as your body collapses over his, gasping out as your orgasm erupts.
Satoru coos you through your release as you convulse like you’re having a seizure around his fingers, “You did so good, baby, so pretty when you cum for me.”
He helps you stand straight, slipping his fingers out and obscenely moaning as he cleans them with his tongue before picking you up by the backs of your thighs; bare skin against bare skin as you wrap your legs around his waist, hard cock pressed against your cunt as he presses you against the shower wall.
The tip of his cock nudges your clit and you both sigh in arousal as he grinds his hard length against your core.
Your kisses are becoming sloppier, more frenzied with each passing moment and when you grab at his cock, he tugs your bottom lip with his teeth.
Satoru lets out quiet stuttering gasps, babbling about how he wants to be inside you as you palm him, swiping your thumb over his sensitive tip, dragging his precum down his length to use as lube.
You’re kissing his neck, shoulders, and clavicle as you leisurely stroke his length for several minutes before he squeezes the plush of your ass with one hand while grabbing his cock from yours, lining the tip with your entrance.
“Can’t wait,” he rasps between quick pecks to your lips, “need you now.”
He presses his forehead against yours letting out a strangled breath when he pushes in slightly, enough for his tip to just enter you.
“Mm, we should wait, get a condom,” it’s not the words you want to be saying as you squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath unable to help the way your hips press forward slightly and roll against him.
Satoru is so strong, hands so large, that even when he’s trying to be soft, he’s rough with the way he sinks you down on his cock, hands gripping your thighs so hard bruises are already starting to bloom.
Your lips meet in ravenous kisses, all tongue and teeth, breaths mingling with one another as he sheaths himself fully inside you.
“I’ll pull out, just- fuck -just need to feel you, just for a second,” he murmurs through a strangled breath, pulling back slowly, giving an experimental pump of his hip.
“Okay- oh fuck,” you moan when the tip of his cock presses against your g-spot, back arching against his chest, encouraging him to pick up the pace, pumping his hips faster, “don’t- don’t stop.”
“You sure?” He asks through a strangled breath.
“Yes, right there!”
You’ve never had raw sex before, but it’s so much better. Satoru is so warm and so big, the weight of him filling you so completely you’re not sure why the two of you haven’t done this sooner.
“Can’t get enough of you, baby,” he whines into your neck, pumping his hips faster and faster as wet smacking sounds fill the bathroom, “fuckin’ made for me.”
You’re keening and whining, bringing a hand to your mouth to try and muffle the loud moans you have no way of controlling as Satoru continues to fuck into you.
He’s watching where you’re connected, watching the way a thick ring of white coats his cock letting out the most sinful moan at the sight. He brings a hand between your bodies, pressing his thumb to your clit drawing tight little circles until your legs are shaking again and you're gripping onto his shoulder like your life depends on it.
“S-S’toru, I’m gonna–”
“God, yes, cum for me baby–wanna feel it, wanna hear it– cum on my cock baby.”
Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cry out his name, clenching, throbbing, and constricting your muscles around his cock as he sits so deep inside of you.
He loves watching you cum for him, making you cry out his name over and over with a voice so hoarse you’re never sure if you’ll have one by the time he’s done with you.
Wave after wave of pleasure surges through your body, as you grab him by the back of the head, bringing his lips to yours so you can give him searing hot kisses as your orgasm rips through you.
It’s too good to stop, too sensitive - his breaths and moans are against your lips and you lock your legs around his waist.
“Fuck- fuck, you’re gonna - god, you’re gonna make me cum,” he warns, trying to pull away but your grip around his center tightens.
“Don’t pull out,” you babble deliriously, so consumed with lust you really have no idea what you’re asking for at this moment.
Satoru lets go of your hips, slamming his hand against the shower wall next to your head, “careful,” he warns, taking a deep, shaky breath, squeezing your hips roughly, “I just might.”
“Please, please do,” You whimper and whine, “please come inside me.”
“Fuck, that’s a bad idea, a real fucking bad idea,” despite his words he continues to piston his hips at a brutal pace, “Shouldn’t-fuck- I’m gonna,” he’s arguing with himself as your pussy constricts around him, “Gonna do it, gonna cum inside - bad idea, fucking love it - fucking love you.”
He snaps his hips into you a few more times before he’s buried as deep as he can go, hips flush with yours as he leans down biting your shoulder, stifling a deep groan, his warm cum painting your walls white, continuing to rut into you.
It’s enough to set you off again, walls fluttering around him, eyes rolling to the back of your head, vision going white.
He keeps moving, slowly rocking into you as you milk every last drop from him, and there’s so much. It almost seems like it’ll never end. You can feel it leaking out, dripping onto the shower floor below you, washing away with the cooling water.
Taking a deep breath, you smile and run your nails across his undercut, eliciting a content sigh from him as he chuckles before pulling out with a wince, setting your legs back onto the floor, supporting your weight as your legs readjust.
Neither of you acknowledges what he said, let alone the consequences of the fact you just begged him to cum inside you. You just look at him, moving his sweaty bangs out of his eyes with a lopsided grin, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose.
The two of you take turns, lathering the body washes and soap, spreading the suds over every inch of each other's bodies before rinsing off with the now cooled-off water. Satoru presses a tender kiss to your lips before getting out of the shower, leaving you to finish while he gets ready for bed.
By the time you’re back in the spare bedroom, he’s lounging on the bed, waiting for you. He’s in grey sweatpants, no shirt, muscles on full display, looking absolutely delectable despite just fucking you senseless in the shower.
“Will Nagi be okay with us sleeping in the same room?”
The room is small but nicely decorated. Since it’s the spare room, there’s not much needing to be kept in here aside from the bed, a small dresser, and a mirror hanging above it with some classical paintings on the other bare spaces.
You shiver, throwing on an oversized tee, and applying your moisturizer, “Yeah, she’s pretty chill. My Mom on the other hand,” you click your tongue at the thought of what she would say if she were to find out, though she has absolutely no room to talk.
By the time you got out of the shower, the water had run ice cold, so when you touch Satoru after getting under the covers, he jumps at the contact before chuckling.
Your hands warm quickly under the covers, body pressed against Satoru’s, drawing little infinity symbols across his bare chest.
“Did you mean it?” You ask softly, looking at him expectantly.
“Mean what?” He laughs awkwardly but you can tell he’s nervous.
Nervous because he said it or because he’s not sure if you’ll say it back, you don’t know but his reaction makes your heart sink a little.
There’s a tug on his heart as he watches you nod and look away, closing your eyes for a second too long because the thought crosses your mind that maybe it was something that slipped in the heat of the moment, that he doesn’t actually mean it.
He grabs your hand, playing with your fingers before whispering, “Yeah, I mean it.”
Your eyes land on his immediately, searching them for insincerity but all you find is honesty and passion, maybe a hint of fear, “I love you too.”
“Yeah?”
You nod, “Yeah, I do. But, we should probably get Plan B tomorrow, just in case.”
He shrugs, “If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what you should want too.”
He rolls over, on top of you, nestling himself between your legs causing you to squeal and giggle, “What I want is for you to come back to my place with me.”
“Thought you were too busy to have me around.”
He stares at you, unamused, rolling his eyes, “I have been busy, but you’re pretty, and my Dad is around right now, so when he sees you, he’ll let me off the hook.”
“Wow. Okay, just using me as a scapegoat to get outta work.”
“A little,” Satoru chuckles, “but also because I do miss you. We can stay the week at my place and head back to school on Friday, party, and see our friends. You can stay with me until the dorms reopen.”
When you first saw Satoru at your front steps this morning, you weren’t sure which direction your relationship would be heading in with him. But it’s gone better than you could have hoped.
Opening up to him wasn’t as detrimental as you thought it would be either, but seems to be helping move your relationship forward.
So you smile at him, agreeing to go back to his place in the morning, hoping this newfound trajectory will continue.
@petalsrdead @sofiaconlaz @lovelylashawnalee @s-witch-bitch @watyousayin @desthevirgo @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @musababy @sagejin @ritsatoru @faewithsnakes @erenputurchildreninsideme @lex-dear @hvziers @babybae-shisui @sugurunicorn @niki-sun @lilith412426 @sofiaconlaz @lxvephxbic @iam-mia9 @laylasbunbunny @creolequeen11210 @xiaosie @lem-hhn @yogurttea @slut-jr @crystxlline @ritsatoru @abba-simp @myabae @etherealkakashi @hyperfixationsporfavor @yihona-san06 @ambersea7 @knightoflove
#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#BD
135 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’ll Spend The Rest of My Life Making It Up To You Series
Aaron Hotchner x Fem!reader
Warnings: Domestic Abuse, bruises, blood, broken glass/mirrors, trauma, engagement, marriage, reader does have a child.
A/n: Long title but idc... Here’s part 1. I’m halfway through student teaching and I begin my elementary placement next week. So who knows when part two will come around, but it will! Comment if you’d like to be tagged in part 2.
WC: 3.8K
Series Masterlist // Masterlist
You were in an abusive relationship. Problem was, you had been in it for 10 years before coming to terms with your abuser. It took one special person to help you. That special person had a significant role in your life before you met your husband, your abuser. What happens after years of not seeing them? What’s going to happen to you? Will you survive the cycle of abuse? Will you get help? Will you get out? Are you strong enough to break the cycle?
It was a hit to the face in front of your son that finally got to be too much. You knew that it was going to be hard to conceal. You didn’t understand it. Why did he constantly have to criticize you to make him feel big? How could he not know that his words hurt? Your body had taken a toll mentally and emotionally, all before it took a toll physically.
How in the hell did you even get yourself into this situation? How could you be in it for 10 years? Why didn’t you leave sooner? Why did it have to get to this point where you finally realized you’d had too much? He always told you he was sorry, he told you he loved you, he just had a bad day at work. The thing was, you were stupid enough to believe it, you always believed it.
You had finally had enough. The mental, emotional, and physical abuse from him was too much. You needed to lead a better life for your son. You didn’t want your son to grow up to know that’s how a man should treat somebody. You were worth so much more. At first, you believed that what your husband would get mad about was your fault, but then over time, the more posts that started showing up on your phone about abusive relationships, you knew that you were in one. You didn’t want to believe it at first, but you did. Slowly over time, you realized that you had to walk on eggshells around him.
You thought that it was normal that he just had triggers that set him off, but then you thought back to the man who once brought you so much joy, the man before your husband, the man who broke your heart. That man that you had loved so much, you never had to walk around eggshells around. The man you could be yourself in front of, the one who loved you for who you were, faults and all.
You tried to get out of your relationship, literally. You got in your car one day to leave, but he tracked you. He called you and asked why you had left the house. He started questioning you because you hadn’t told him that you planned on leaving that day. He had a tracking device placed on the car and would get alerts when you’d leave the house.
He also hated whenever you went out to lunch with friends, especially your guy friends. He hated it. You don’t understand why. Well, you do. It’s because he was nervous you’d let something slip that you were in an abusive relationship. You were too afraid too. You hid the bruises well, that’s why he never hit you on your face either, because you could conceal it everywhere else.
While he went away for another weekend, you decided that you’d had enough. You remember reading about the cycle of abuse from domestic abuse survivors. The cycle of abuse is tough. It’s the hardest thing to break. You want to get help, and you think you’re going to do it, but then he does something so great that you think he’ll change, and then you fall back in love with him.
You had constantly been in that cycle for 10 years. It’s the only love you thought you were ever worthy of, but you are worthy of so much more.
After debating for 2 hours and figuring out a game plan. You packed a suitcase filled with clothes as much as you could fit and started putting stuff into a car. You grabbed your son’s clothes, diapers, wipes, blankets, car seat, and bottles. You threw as much as you could into the suitcase and you finally took one look around your home.
You saw the hole in the wall that your husband’s fist had left when you dodged it. You saw the broken glass still in the corner from before he left. You saw the broken picture frames, the blood-stained carpet that you tell your guests you had accidentally cut yourself and didn’t realize it but it was actually from your husband hitting you so hard you were bleeding from your mouth.
Chills went down your spine. You were attempting to get out. You knew that if you were caught, he would kill you. You needed to get your son somewhere safe. You were done looking around your house, there were no good memories except the one’s you made with your son. You didn’t deserve this abuse anymore. You didn’t know where to go, so you found your way to the FBI. If there’s one person you could trust, the only male you could trust, you were going to him.
It wasn’t long until you pulled into the FBI building parking lot. Your son was in the middle of his nap, but you were just hoping that it wasn’t loud or busy in there. If he did wake up, it wasn’t the end of the world, you needed to get out of this relationship, you needed to do better for your son.
When you made your way into the building, your eyes started to roam around. You were trying to look for him everywhere. You knew he wouldn’t be down here, he always needed an office, but you just were trying to look for comfort, a familiar face.
You explained to the receptionist that you needed to see him. You knew he was the unit chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, you were proud of him. He always set high standards for himself. He had been through so much, he was a survivor, too, but not many realized that.
When you were escorted into the BAU, you were met with an older man walking by. You learned his name was Dave Rossi and you told him your name and your son’s name.
When he asked if there was anything he could do for you, you just asked politely to see Aaron Hotchner’s office. That really drew everyone in the room to look at you. You don’t know how close these people were but, they were a team, you could only assume they’d been through everything together.
Rossi knocked on Aaron’s door and you heard his voice. You hadn’t heard his voice in 3 years. It sent shivers down your spine. You were really getting help, and you were getting it from the love of your life, the man you always wanted to be with, but weren’t good enough for, you didn’t deserve him.
When you walked in after Rossi opened the door for you, you were met with Aaron writing something in a case file, working hard, and being busy. You began to think how wrong you were to come here. This shouldn’t be Aaron’s problem. Maybe you were just overreacting. But now you needed to come up with an excuse for why you were here.
“Hi, Aaron.”
Aaron’s head shot up from his desk and all it took was one look from Aaron for you to begin to break down. Aaron didn’t know what was going on, so when he looked at Rossi, the door was already being shut to give you two some privacy. You didn’t know what caused you to break down, maybe it was because your lover was here, seeing you at your worst, yet you’re still here.
You placed your son’s car seat carrier on the floor and Aaron wrapped his arms around you. He didn’t know what the hell was happening, but all he knew was that someone he loved deeply, even though he hadn’t kept in touch for the last 3 years was hurting, and you didn’t deserve to feel whatever you were feeling.
As he held you in his arms, he began to look down at your sleeping son, and when he tightened his arms around you, he didn’t miss the way your shirt rose up, leaving your skin bare. When his hands touched your bare skin, you tensed up, and that’s when he saw it. He saw the marks, the fresh ones and those still healing. He began to roll up your sleeves, he didn’t care if he was crossing boundaries, he needed to see that those were real. That the love of his life, the one he let go, had bruises old and new.
His first priority was finding out who did this to you so he could kill the man who was hurting you. He also knew that there was a sleeping baby in his office, who didn’t look more than 6 months old. If the man who was beating you touched what he presumed to be your baby, he would for sure kill the man who did this.
“Who did this to you?”
Aaron was furious. His jaw tightened and his fist clenched with rage. Everything at that moment stopped. He wanted to kill whoever was hurting you. You could see that all in his eyes and in his body language. While you and Aaron broke up, you still remained friends through it all. Well, friends who just hadn’t talked or seen each other in person in 3 years.
You just were afraid to tell him. You weren’t afraid of Aaron. You never were. You were just afraid that he’d see you at your lowest point because you knew he already dealt with so much in his life and your situation would just add more problems to his life.
“Aaron.”
You began to pull away from Aaron as he still was holding your waist. When he let go, he still had no idea what was going on. Well, he knew something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. You had bruises, you tensed up at the feeling of his hands on your bare skin. His best friend, the love of his life, was in an abusive relationship and he didn’t know. He was a really shitty person for it. How could he not recognize that you were in an abusive relationship when you told him you could never meet him out for lunch anymore, or when he finally got one last lunch with you when you hugged him, held him a little tighter, and whispered “goodbye Aaron” after you kissed his cheek.
Aaron would always remember that moment 3 years ago and it killed him that he never knew why you said what you did. However, you here in his office, getting ready to tell him that you were in an abusive relationship only made him feel that much smaller, like such an asshole that he was a profiler and he couldn’t tell you were in an abusive relationship.
“Who did this to you? I will make sure he never sees the light of day again.”
“Aaron, I can’t tell you, he will find me, and he’ll kill me and my son. I can’t go back. I have nowhere to go. I just wanted to come and ask if you had any friends who were lawyers to help me out. I want to sell the house, but I can’t face him again. Is there any way you can help me out? Please, I’ll take you and Jack out for dinner. I’ll watch Jack and give Jessica a break. I’ll do anything, Aaron.”
“Wait. Slow down, slow down. You need to tell me who did this to you. I will help you. Of course, I will, but I need to know who has been hurting you.”
You were about to start crying even more. You weren’t ready to tell Aaron. You were, but you weren’t. All it took was one small cry from your son before you looked at him and were going to lose it. Aaron was profiling you and you hated it.
“I can’t, Aaron. You know I can’t. Aaron, please. I’m in an abusive relationship. I need out. I need the tracker disabled on my car. I need a lawyer who can help me make sure I keep custody of my son, Mason. But you have to understand, it’s better if I don’t say his name, for my sake and for yours.”
You picked Mason up from his car seat and Mason began to look around. When he laid his head back on your chest, you made eye contact with Aaron. He was still trying to make sure that Mason was okay.
“Aaron. You know I can’t say his name.”
“N-no, please tell me that after I broke your heart, this is what happened. This is what you got. You never deserved this. You deserved so much more. You deserved more than I could ever give you. You met someone, you met Jake after me, you were in a relationship with him for 10 years. He beat you Y/n. Please tell me that it’s not Jake who did this to you. Please tell me that it’s not the man I watched you dance with at your wedding while I wished it had been me. Please tell me that Jake didn’t do this to you, that you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time with someone.”
You reached out for his hand. You needed to calm him down, you needed him right now. You didn’t need him to take the blame for this. He couldn’t have known what was going on. You were great at hiding what was going on. That was the plan, to not get caught, to not have people feel sorry for you and try and help you, because you were in that cycle where you believed Jake could do no wrong.
“Aaron, it’s not your fault. I loved him. Well, at some point I did.”
“Why didn’t you come to me sooner? Why didn’t you tell me whenever we’d meet up? Why didn’t I say something? How did I not know?”
“Aaron, listen to me, please. I covered it up. I didn’t want our lunch dates, something that brought me so much joy, to be ruined for me. I wanted those moments to be good things. Something I could hold onto until the next thing happened. You were and had always been the one good thing in my life, Aaron. Now it’s you and Mason. Aaron, this is my son, Mason. He’s 6 months old. I’m asking you to please help us. I’m going to leave this state. I just need help with the car and a lawyer.”
Aaron stepped closer to you and wiped the tears that were falling onto your cheek. He placed his hand on your son’s back and said, “I’m going to get you the help you need. But I’m sure as hell not letting you two out of my sight until Jake’s in prison. You’re staying with me. I’ll get my team to disable the tracking device. I’ll be able to get Penelope to reroute the signal to say that the car’s at home.”
“Aaron, he already knows I left the house. He knows where I am now. I guarantee it.”
“Stay here. I’m getting my team.”
He kissed the side of your head and for once you weren’t tensing up when a man touched you. You followed him out of his office, too afraid to be left alone, even in a secure government building. You and he walked into the conference room with his team and you listened to him explain who you were and your situation, how you needed help.
Being in that room made you feel small and weak. These individuals were all going to help you. You hated that you were going to make their life worse. Whoever was going to try and help was going to be affected by Jake. You knew it would.
Penelope said, “We are going to take care of you, girlie. We will take care of you and your son. I’m already hacking into the tracking system. My chocolate thunder here is going to disable the device on your car once we find it. We will work some magic. You go take that precious baby boy in your arms back into Hotch’s office and we will work our magic.”
Your son started to get fussy and you looked at Aaron. “I know you’re already doing so much, and I hate that I’m bothering you, but is there a microwave where I could warm up his bottle?”
“No, you’re not bothering me. Come on. Guys, I’m going to warm up the bottle and then we’ll be in the office. No one leaves until we make sure they’re safe. Got it?”
The team all shook their heads and gave you a sympathetic look. You and Aaron began to walk out of the round table room and he walked into his office to help you grab your son’s diaper bag.
“I can take it, Aaron. You can just tell me where it is. I’ll feed him in there. You’ll have your office to work.”
“No. Nonsense. I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.”
When you began to warm up his bottle, you started to scoop the formula and Aaron said, “I know it’s been a while since Jack was a baby, but can I hold him? I know how hard it is to make a bottle with a wiggly baby.”
“Are you sure?”
Aaron began to take Mason from your arms and your heart melted at the sight of Aaron and Mason. The way he held Mason was a fatherly way that you wish you saw in Jake. Jake never hurt Mason, but you also made sure Jake was never alone with Mason. You didn’t want to think about what would happen if Jake snapped at Mason the way he snapped at you before.
Aaron’s fatherly instincts worked well. Mason was starting to settle down in his arms before he even began to eat. When Mason grabbed for Aaron’s tie, you found yourself smiling.
“I haven’t seen that smile since you and I were together.”
“It’s been a while. Only Mason gets to see this smile. Jake doesn’t deserve it.”
“You’re right. He doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve to have you in his life for 10 years, to treat you the way you were treated for the past 10 years.”
When you and Aaron made his way back to his office, he shut the door and you sat on the couch. You began to feed Mason and Aaron pulled out a pad of paper. He sat on the chair next to his couch and you looked at him.
“I have to ask you everything he did. As much as you could tell me. We also need to take pictures of the bruises. We’ll get you to a hospital, to make sure there’s nothing more than bruises, no broken ribs, no healing fractures.”
“I’m not going.”
“Let me help you.”
“I just asked for a lawyer friend. That’s all I need from you. I will be out of here as soon as they-”
“I already lost you two times in my life, I’ll be damned if I lost you a third time. I want to help you and Mason. Please let me help you. I need to know what he did. I’ve already sent a text to one of my colleagues who I went to law school with. He’s pulling all your files now. We’re taking care of it. If we get you to a hospital.”
“Then you’ll see the very worse of what he did to me. You’ll see the healing fractures, you’ll see the scars. I don’t want you to see that, Aaron.”
Aaron looked like he was going to snap his steel pen in half. He was gripping the pen so hard when those words came out of your mouth and then you saw the color drain out of him. He couldn’t believe what you just told him. He knew you were scared, but how could you be scared of him? How could you not want him to know how Jake hurt you?
“I won’t think any less of you. You’re stronger than I could ever be. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
The team was out in the parking lot disabling the tracking device from your car and they all began talking. They saw your car, how you’d thrown random things, well not random, your necessities into the car. They knew that your relationship must have been bad.
Rossi spoke up when he looked in your trunk and found a box of pictures and letters. He saw the bruises, cuts, scars, and marks all over your body that you had taken. He saw the pictures you took of your house, the broken pictures, the broken glass, the mirror.
Penelope said, “I don’t want to see her like that. Are there any happy ones? I mean, I don’t know how she could be happy with him, but is there anything? Maybe there was a trigger in the relationship. At one point she had to have been happy with him. That’s why she went out with him?”
“That’s how the cycle works, Penelope. He was probably good to her at the start. Then as things went on in their relationship, maybe she burnt something she was cooking and he went off on her. Then maybe it was she tripped and he blamed her for tripping over his mess, or maybe it was he squeezed her arm so hard to gain her attention and it left a mark, one of the first marks that he intentionally wanted to leave. But then he’d make it up with something romantic. Just when she’s had her breaking point, maybe considered walking out, he did something nice.”
Penelope’s heart was breaking at the thought of you, someone she didn’t even know was hurting. She wiped her tears as she was trying to rummage through the photos of your deepest, darkest secrets.
“But where does she come into Hotch’s life? When we met him, he was with Haley.”
Rossi found a smaller box. When he opened it up, he found pictures of a younger you and Aaron. He found the ones of you and him kissing.
“I know why she’s here.”
He turned the picture of you and Aaron towards the team and they immediately began to get teary-eyed.
Morgan said, “Hotch was her boyfriend before she got into this relationship.”
The team all looked at each other as Rossi continued to look into the box. Then he saw the flash of something when the sun hit just right. When he moved it to try and find the flash again, it’s when he saw it, taped to a picture.
Rossi pulled out the photo of Aaron kneeling on the ground, holding the ring out to you. The same ring that was taped to that picture.
“More like a fiancè.”
The team looked at him and said, “What?”
Rossi showed them your engagement ring and picture and said, “They were engaged. Hotch was her fiancè.”
Next Part
#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x single mom!reader#aaron hotchner fanfic#Aaron Hotchner angst#aaron hotchner fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#aaron hotchner#Criminal Minds
266 notes
·
View notes
Text
Home, Sweet Home.
AN: As voted for by my followers, my next series update is for Cali, Steve and Bucky. After the fluff of the last part I gift you a bucket load of smut. And to the Nonnie who has sent me a request for these three- that will be coming soon! I’m not ignoring you.
Beta’d by: the glorious American, tits as big as her heart, @yarnforbrains
Dividers by @firefly-graphics. Moodboard and banners by me.
Masterlist | Series masterlist | Previous part
Relationship: Steve x Reader (Cali) x Bucky
Word count: 4.1k
CW: Poly relationship, fluff, feels, Smutty smut smut (Oral- M and F receiving, Rimming, bit of cum play, Vaginal sex, Anal fingering, Double penetration (in V and A)), cheeky banter. Bucky is a menace (d’uh!) Steve is intense, Cali is practical, even in the heat of the moment.
As you put down the box you’d been carrying and stretched out your aching back, you heard the sound of van doors closing, before it was followed by the sound of its engine starting.
Everything had moved quickly once you’d agreed with your boys that the house they’d picked was perfect. Bucky had packed up nearly all of his belongings and put them in storage, moving in full time with Steve. A few weeks later you’d done the same. You’d all agreed it would be far easier to coordinate the move from one place, as opposed to trying to leave three separate homes on the same day.
It had been tense to say the least, but now you were standing in what would become your office and private sanctuary, you had to admit it had been worth it. Of course it would take weeks to get the room sorted out just the way you wanted it, but you were giddy at the thought that you could do what you wanted and not worry about a landlord inspection.
You were just considering the best place for your desk when a pair of thick arms dusted with golden hair wrapped around your waist from behind. You relaxed back onto the sturdy frame attached to them, leaning your head against his collarbone.
“Hey, Steve. The movers gone?”
He dipped his head and nuzzled into your neck, his beard tickling your skin.
“Mmmhmm. Bucky’s just moving the last of his boxes to his study, and then, my darling Cali, he will finally allow us up into the master suite. I can’t believe how early he came over here this morning - just to ensure that our bed was all set up for us to sleep on this evening. Or that he wouldn’t allow either of us to see it.”
Steve’s musings were interrupted by a set of jaunty footsteps, and suddenly you were yanked from his embrace and twirled into Bucky’s beautifully mismatched arms.
“That’s cos I’ve got my priorities straight, punk. We’re gonna start this thing off right, sorting out our space first. So come on. I’ve got the suitcases of clothes up there already and our bathroom stuff. And wait until you see the bed!”
He dropped a hurried kiss on your lips, then let you go, only to cup Steve’s face with his work-roughened hands and kiss him as well. You smirked when you saw Steve’s hands grasp Bucky’s ass and give it a little squeeze, but then Bucky was jogging away up the stairs to the top floor - your new bedroom. You looked at Steve, and he gave a little shrug in return. The two of you broke into grins at the same time andfollowed Bucky up the stairs.
Steve let you go in before him, being the gentleman that he was, but you almost regretted it when you came to a sudden halt, and your statuesque boyfriend ran into your back and almost sent you flying. There, in front of you, stretching almost the full length of the back wall was the biggest bed you’d ever seen. It was more than enough space for the three of you if you didn’t feel like cuddling up. It was rare that you forwent the cuddingling, but it was nice to have the option. In the middle of it all was Bucky, lying spread eagle on the bed with a puckish grin on his face.
“What are you waiting for? Come try it out!”
With a squeal you launched yourself at him and the bed. He deftly rolled out of the way, and you giggled as you bounced on the sprung mattress. Bucky quickly covered and pinned you, pressing sloppy kisses all over your face and neck. You playfully batted at him but didn’t really make any effort to push him off and away, and therefore, you weren’t really surprised when his kisses got a bit more hot and heavy.
He dropped his hips onto you, unashamedly letting you feel his arousal. In response, you wrapped your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and gave it a little tug, provoking a deep moan.
“I like how you managed to get all the sheets on…” You arched as his lips trailed down your neck.
“Well, gotta make sure it was going to be comfortable for my best girl…” he lifted his head away from you and turned to look at Steve, who was still standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame with a smirk on his handsome face. “... and my best guy. What’re you still doing over there, punk? This doesn’t work without all three of us.”
Steve pushed himself upright, and as he stepped towards the bed, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and revealed his chiselled chest and abs, sprinkled with dark blonde hair. He toed off his shoes and popped the button on his jeans before climbing onto the bed beside you and Bucky. There was a feral gleam in his eye as he caught Bucky’s lips. Their kiss was more feral than romantic, both of them moaning into it, and you could feel your desire pooling between your legs, the way it did any time you saw your boys loving on each other.
You reached your free hand up to the back of Steve’s neck, so you could guide them back down to you. You were greedy for both of them, and you didn’t care. They effortlessly drew you into the kiss, three pairs of lips and three tongues coming together in a tangle. It was messy and erotic, and everything you wanted.
Steve continued to kiss you as Bucky broke away, his hands inching their way under your top and pushing it up as his body slid down yours. He greedily tugged at the cups of your sensible cotton bra, freeing your breasts and immediately latching onto one with his mouth and the other with his fingers. Steve swallowed your moans and pulled your top further up, only letting go of your lips to pull the fabric over your head and throwing it to join his t-shirt on the floor. He yanked down the straps of your bra, making it easier for Bucky, who - from the sounds he was making - was enjoying devouring your sweet flesh. You pulled Steve back in for more kisses, your blood on fire under the ministrations of the two men you loved.
As Bucky travelled further down your body, pulling your yoga pants off you, Steve’s hands roamed. His thumbs played with the wet peaks of your breasts, keeping them pebbled and sensitive. You were sucking in lungfuls of air, dizzy on sensation. You registered Bucky’s warm breath on your thighs, in between them, and then he was devouring you again. Your fingers, still lodged in Steve’s short blonde locks, tightened, making him hiss as you whined.
“Bucky making you feel good, Cali? I know how much you love his tongue. Don’t blame you, baby. It’s a talented tongue. I want you to let yourself go. Be as loud as you want. You’re in your own home - your home with us, and we can do whatever we want. Wanna hear you scream as he makes you cum. Can you do that?”
Your eyes were screwed shut, hands still clenched, but you nodded. Bucky knew exactly what to do to get you there. Sometimes he teased you, keeping you just under the plateau of your pleasure until you were begging him, begging Steve. But other times he just went for it, keen to feel you cum on his face, over and over and over, until you were limp. Today it appeared he was going for the latter.
His tongue plunged into your pussy; his thumb drew circles on your clit.
“Bucky! Fuck!” You shifted your legs against the cool sheets when they were suddenly lifted up in the air, and thrown over Bucky’s shoulders. The man himself was on his knees, chest flat to the bed, large body pressed as far between your thighs as possible, almost burying himself in your folds and folding you almost in half. You could feel your approaching orgasm, and it was obvious that Steve could tell as well, because that’s when he lowered his mouth to your breasts. “Steve! I… I… oh God!”
The pleasure crashed over you, waves and waves of it lifting you up so you were breathless, then pulling you down and tossing you around so you didn’t know which way was up.
Cool air hit your chest as Steve pulled his mouth off you. Your eyes opened again in response, just in time to see him lean forward, drag Bucky away from your cunt, and smash his lips against his boyfriend’s.
They pawed at each other, Bucky pulling off his shirt and pushing down his jeans and briefs in one go, so that his cock sprang free. Steve immediately wrapped his hand around it and gave it a few tugs, making Bucky whimper into his mouth. You watched them with hooded eyes, as amazed by their beauty today as you had been the first time you’d seen them together.
Somehow, Bucky pulled back from Steve’s lips and removed the hand from his weeping cock. Bucky gave the slightly taller man a light shove in the shoulder and with a smirk, Steve allowed himself to fall back onto the mattress, the springy surface bouncing as he landed down next to you. Bucky yanked at Steve’s jeans, dragging them off him as though they offended him, which in this moment, they probably had. You knew how Bucky got when there was something between him and his prize.
Steve was commando under his pants, and you swore you saw Bucky’s eyes light up as they zoned in on Steve’s cock. He shuffled forward, hovering over Steve’s crotch and then, looking up into his boyfriend’s face, allowed a string of saliva to fall from his lips to land right on Steve’s tip. Both you and Steve moaned at the sight, and Bucky just grinned.
“Were you a bit jealous that our little darlin’ was getting all of my oral skills? Cos it sounded that way.” Bucky wrapped his hand around Steve and rubbed his thumb in the puddle of his spit, smearing it as far as he could reach. “You know all you gotta do is ask, punk.” He slowly started to move his hand up and down, and Steve gasped, his long eyelashes kissing his cheekbones in a way you thought should have been illegal.
“Buck…”
“Got a question for me, Stevie?”
You repressed a smirk. You loved it when Bucky got a little cheeky, a little dominant with Steve. You didn’t know why, but seeing Steve in a more submissive position always got you a bit hot and bothered. You weren’t naturally dominant in a bedroom setting, but every so often you got the itch. Today, however, you were happy to watch and go where your boys led you.
“Bucky… please…” Steve was going whiny now and it made you shiver in anticipation.
“You need my mouth on you, blondie? Need my tongue to drive you wild? Then you gotta ask. Ask for where you want me.”
Bucky tightened his grip, drawing another gasp from Steve as he tried to form words.
“I… want you to eat me, Buck. Please!”
Bucky smiled. “Now, was that so hard, Stevie? Hands and knees for me, big boy.” He let go of Steve’s cock so he could roll, and then shifted his gaze to you. “Need you to slide under, darlin’, and give that beautiful cock of his the love it deserves.” You smiled back and shimmied yourself into position, not being able to resist the urge to lick right over his tip, and taste his musky, salty essence.
“Cali, Bucky - You’re killing me.” A glance revealed his trembling forearms as he anticipated the pleasure to come.
“Oh, baby, we ain’t even started yet.” Those were the last coherent words you heard from Bucky for a while, as he pushed Steve’s thighs wider apart and leant forward. Your own position didn’t allow for much of a viewing angle, but the sound that left Steve’s throat and the small flex of his hips let you know when Bucky had started his second round of tongue gymnastics. You shifted again and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, and started your own task.
“Oh… fuck. Fuck!”
You suckled and swirled your tongue and attuned your ears to the whimpering coming from Steve and the lewd, slurping sounds emanating from somewhere behind him. You could see the tension in Steve’s body, the tendons and veins in his arms all pronounced, his abs clenching and relaxing. You moved your hand up to his balls, cupping them gently and massaging them, before pressing your fingers against the spit slick patch of skin just behind them, rubbing over his prostate from the outside as Bucky tongue-fucked Steve’s hole and you tormented his cock with your own tongue.
Steve was breathing heavily, desperately trying to hold back, but he was fighting a losing battle. He might have stamina and determination, but Bucky and you were more determined. When his legs started to tremble along with his arms, you readied yourself, hollowing your cheeks and pressing your tongue onto the fat vein on the underside of his cock. He came with a shout, spurting thick ropes of cum into your mouth with such force some seeped out around your lips and ran down your cheek.
“C-Cali… you need to move…” Steve’s voice was strained, but you heard him, and letting his cock fall from your mouth, you shifted out from under him so he could collapse forward onto the bed. He turned his head to look at you as he regained his breath, eyes wide and glassy as after-shocks of pleasure darted through his body.
You looked over to where Bucky had come back up onto his knees. His eyes were black with lust, his face shiny and wet from a combination of your juices and his own saliva. You spread your thighs and held your arms open as he knee-walked across the expanse of the bed and pressed his weight down on you. He licked the errant drops of Steve’s cum off your face before kissing you passionately.
“Want you to fuck me, Bucky. I need you.”
“I know, doll. I know. Need you too. Need you both.”
It took only a moment for Bucky to line himself up, and then he was being enveloped by you. Your fingernails scratched at his shoulders and you cried out.
The mattress shifted beside you, and you turned to find that Steve had moved closer. He kissed you, hard and deep as Bucky fucked into you at a steady pace. Unlike when he’d been eating you out, it was clear that Bucky wanted this to last. He knew how to angle himself to caress your g-spot and hasten your orgasm, but he wasn’t doing it, at least not yet. He wanted you aroused and desperate. The teasing bastard.
Steve pulled his lips from yours and leant across to Bucky, whispering something in his ear as he pressed kisses to the brunette’s jaw line. Bucky’s eyes twinkled and suddenly he flipped, rolling onto his back and taking you with him, his hands firm on your hips, finger tips digging in and likely to leave small marks of possession for you to look at in the mirror later. Steve leant over the side of the bed, rifling around in the pile of discarded clothes for something, before he moved up behind you, between Bucky’s now spread thighs his feet planted flat as he thrust upwards into your wet heat.
Steve pressed his firm body up against your back, and you could feel that his cock had recovered; you’d always been in awe of his stamina and recovery speed. His hands, with fingers long and slim, skimmed down your side and covered Bucky’s, helping to move you a-top him.
“This is how it should be, isn’t it? This just feels right, the three of us here, like this. The pair of you are so beautiful, and fuck, if I don’t just want to spend the rest of my life watching you.” His hands slid back up to cup your breasts, rolling your nipples between thumb and forefinger, and you gasped, your head leaning back on his shoulder, his ocean blue eyes mesmerising you. “Fuck! I love you both so much.” He kissed you, messily, and then pushed you down towards Bucky, who took over the kisses.
Steve cupped the globes of your ass, jiggling the soft flesh and pulling on them, watching Bucky’s cock, now copiously covered in your cream, slide in and out of your pussy.
“Bucky’s filling you up so much, but how would you like to be fuller?” The fingers on one hand shifted and brushed over your tight rear hole, making you shudder and clench down. Bucky groaned into your mouth and then tore his lips from yours.
“Do that again, punk. She liked it.”
“Of course she did, she’s our beautiful, dirty girl.”
He curled over your back and pushed his thumb into Bucky’s mouth. The engineer sucked on it eagerly before letting it go, only for Steve to rub it over the ring of muscle.
“Oh God…” It felt so deliciously taboo.
There was some rustling, followed by the sound of a packet being torn open, and then you felt cold lube being drizzled over your asshole. Steve pressed his thumb against you again, smearing the lube, and pushing the tip of it inside.
Both Bucky and Steve had fucked your ass before, but never like this, with one of them already stuffed deep inside your pussy. You were 30% anxious, but 70% eager, and lay down flatter on Bucky, spreading your knees even wider to ready yourself. Your fingers clung to Bucky’s shoulders as he rocked gently under you, allowing you to concentrate on what Steve was doing.
With a little more pressure, his thumb tip popped into your ass, and he gently fucked it in and out. When you heard him chuckle, you realised that you were already moving your hips to help him along.
“Ready for more, sweetheart?”
“Please!”
Steve carefully pulled his thumb from you, and you let out a whimper of disappointment, despite knowing that the empty sensation wouldn’t last for long. He applied a bit more lube and then slid his index finger, slimmer but longer than his thumb, inside of you. He only pumped it a few times before you felt him add a second finger. The pair of them, combined with Bucky in your pussy, were making you feel so very full, and a bit light headed. Bucky pressed kisses to your brow and petted your hair, still moving softly.
“That’s it, darlin’. Just relax and let Stevie in.”
You nodded, your cheek rubbing against his thick and hairy chest, and then let out a gasp as Steve added a third finger.
“You can’t come yet, Cali. You gotta wait until I’m inside you. Need to feel you squeezing us both. Can you do that for me?”
Your eyes were squeezed shut, and you bit at your lower lip, the sensations so overwhelming already. “Hmm-hmm.”
Steve growled at your noise of agreement.
“I need a colour from you, baby. I need words.”
You dragged a ragged breath into your lungs, trying to get your brain to work.
“G-green, Stevie. So green.”
“Good girl.”
His fingers left you, but were swiftly replaced by the head of his cock. You urged your body to relax as he pushed in. You keened, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you felt fuller than you’d ever felt in your life.
“Fuck!” You let out your exclamation as Steve bottomed out within you with a grunt. Bucky’s hands slid up and down your sides in a soothing motion.
“You good, darlin?”
“Peachy, Buck. I just need a moment.”
You took a few seconds to process how you were feeling. Warm, full, but overall, loved. Bucky had already felt this, connected to you and Steve so intimately, and Steve also to some extent. You’d even had your own little ‘taste’ of this, but what you were doing now was so very different, and while not totally overwhelming, it was still A Lot ™. Your whole body throbbed and you realised that you were on a hair trigger, so close to coming, but annoyingly still too far away.
A little whimper escaped your lips, and you tentatively moved your hips, making the boys shift inside you. All three of you gasped.
“Fuck, Stevie. I can feel you inside her. Cali, please, can we move? I need to move!” Bucky had threaded the fingers of your right hand with his left, and you looked at the tattoos that decorated his arm.
“Yes. Please. I need you both to love me.” You turned your head to look over your shoulder at Steve, who smiled gently down at you, and then moved his right hand to cover yours where it held Bucky’s, joining you all together in another way, and one that felt more poignant.
“Not a problem, sweetheart. Not a problem.”
Steve started to move first, small, experimental thrusts that pushed you onto Bucky and filled you to the brim with both of them, and you couldn’t help but start to move yourself, helping to control the pace. The feeling was so strange inside you, feeling them both moving, but in different directions and in different places, but as you got used to it, as you all got used to it, you all became more frenetic. Bucky kissed your mouth; Steve dusted your shoulders with his own lips, and all you could do was get carried away on the pleasure. It rolled through you in waves, cresting and dipping, but never quite ever disappearing. You could feel the wetness seeping out of you around Bucky’s cock and dripping down onto his crotch. You could hear the lewd sounds from where Steve was plunging in and out of your ass, his body curled over your back. Sweat rolled down your body and your legs and arms shook from your near continuous orgasm.
Bucky came in you first, his movements getting faster and more uncoordinated, so Steve held still, to give him room to do so, hips snapping up into your spasming cunt.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Cali! Steve!”
Steve lent further over you, pushing you down onto Bucky, so he could kiss him over your shoulder. It was awkward and a bit messy, but you loved hearing Bucky whine into Steve’s mouth as continued to fill your pussy. As Bucky regained his breath and composure, he held you tight to him, letting Steve have the chance to find his own end within the tight embrace of your body. He was feral, fingers gripping your hips hard, adding a second set of marks to match the ones Bucky had placed on you earlier.
“You’re mine. Both of you. Love you both so goddamn much. Oh fuck, yes!”
The feeling of his hot cum filling your ass, along with the whole filthiness of this session of loving with your boys, triggered one last orgasm in you as you lay sprawled on Bucky. Steve collapsed over you, although he took some of his weight on your arms. You liked the feeling of being a bit squashed between them. You all exchanged soft gentle kisses to wherever you could reach.
Eventually though, you all needed to move. Steve rolled off of you in one direction and you rolled off Bucky in the other. You turned your head to look at your dark haired lover.
“I definitely approve of this bed, Bucky. 10 out of 10. But I hope you’ve got a lot of spare sheets for it.” You looked pointedly at the wet patch that had formed around and under him. “And a lot of mattress protectors.”
“Ever the practical one, ain’t ya, darlin’?”
You chuckled, and Steve snorted.
“One of us has to be, and it ain’t you or me, jerk.”
Bucky reached out for one of the pillows and launched it towards Steve’s head.
“Speak for yourself, punk.”
You rolled your eyes in affectionate dismay, before pushing yourself up and off the bed. You sashayed towards the en-suite, eager to clean the cum from your body, but stopped in the doorway and looked coquettishly over your shoulder.
“I’m going to try out the shower. First one to find me a towel gets to join me. The other get’s to start changing the sheets.”
You smiled as you walked into your new bathroom and pushed the door mostly closed, listening to the sounds of scrabbling and friendly rivalry from the other side.
You were home.
Tag list: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @marvelstarker-mha98 @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida
#steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes#stucky x reader#stucky x you#late writes#an artist and an engineer#artist steve rogers#engineer bucky barnes#ot3
170 notes
·
View notes
Text
Clothing Thief
Elizabeth Olsen x Reader
Your “friend” is always stealing your clothes
Note: This is college Lizzie! Enjoy!
Elizabeth Olsen Masterlist, Main Masterlist
“Hey Lizzie have you seen my-“ you stop talking at the sight of your friend wearing the sweatshirt you were looking for.
Lizzie smiles at you mischievously.
“You have seen it then,” you say with a smile that you just can’t hide.
“It’s just too comfy,” she defends.
“Yeah, yeah. Okay I’ll see you later.” You go to your room and finish getting ready.
Lizzie walks out with you and goes back to her place as you walk to class.
It’s been a common occurrence lately for Lizzie to steal your clothes. Since you befriended her in class and became study partners, she has been over at your dorm a lot. She recently stays there to hang out a lot and she steals your clothes.
A few hours later you see her in class and she’s wearing your jacket.
“Again Lizzie?” You ask as you sit next to her.
“Yes, but look I come bearing this!” Lizzie gestures dramatically to a cup on your desk.
You take a drink and feel warm inside from the drink and from Lizzie’s kindness.
“Thank you, Elizabeth.” You offer her your best smile.
Class is boring but it passes quickly with Lizzie playing tic tac toe with you on your notes.
“Are you going to the party tonight?” Lizzie asks as you’re packing up your stuff.
“I was thinking about it. I don’t know.”
“Oh come on, you should come! It’ll be fun!”
“I don’t know, Lizzie,” you sigh. “I’m kind of tired from the week.”
“I want you to come,” she practically pouts. How could you say no to that face?
“Okay. I’ll be there,” you relent. But it’s worth it when she smiles at you. You think you’d do anything for this girl.
Once you get home and get ready, you head out to the party. It’s not your favorite scene but you see a couple of friends when you walk in.
It’s not long before Lizzie arrives. She’s wearing a simple tshirt and jeans but she makes your heart beat fast in your chest.
“Y/n! Hey!” She throws herself into your arms. “I may or may have already had a drink.”
“I believe that,” you say with a laugh as you hug her back. Her arms feel cold against you. “Do you want my jacket?”
“Please,” she replies.
“Always taking my clothes,” you tease her.
You wrap the jacket around her shoulders. She’s pulled away, but continues to be near you most of the night.
Once it’s time to go, Lizzie asks to walk back to your dorm with you. You turn around at the door and face her to say goodnight.
“Oh hey, your jacket,” Lizzie starts to slip it off.
“So you’ll give me this back but not all my other clothes?” You tease her once again.
Lizzie appears to be thinking for a moment before she steps closer to you. Instinctually, your hands go to her hips. She’s in your space and all you can think about is pulling her in for a kiss.
“I’ll give you back your clothes in exchange for something,” she says. Her eyes flicker down to your lips and back to meet yours.
“Oh yeah? What might that be?”
“A kiss.” Lizzie barely gets the word out before she’s kissing you.
You’re too stunned to do anything but kiss her back and pull her hips closer to yours. It’s a passionate, but loving kiss as she presses you against the door of your dorm.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Lizzie says once she breaks the kiss.
“Me too, Elizabeth,” you say, breathless from the beautiful woman in front of you. “Come inside?”
“I want to take you on a date first,” she says.
“You’re a romantic, huh?”
“Says the person who gave me their jacket earlier because I looked cold,” Lizzie teases. “Tomorrow night?”
“I look forward to it,” you agree.
You kiss her one last time before she disappears for the night. She takes your jacket with her, but you don’t mind.
Her stealing your clothes is the reason you got the girl in the first place.
Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @be-missed @likefirenrain @mythosphere-x @hehehehannahthings @madamevirgo @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @maia-lightwoood @xxromanoffxx @ggrangerdanger @peanutbutterprincess @picnicmic @wandaslittlewhore @when-wolves-howl @fxckmiup @marie45019 @sammi1642 @the-night-owl-blr @strangegardentaco @avatarsnips @natashasilverfox @imthenatynat @red1culous @olsensnpm @lovelyy-moonlight @carnagewidow @belovaskitkat @btay3115 @lenam07 @randomwriter1021 @wandsmxmff @itbeila @shin-conan-kun @notbornbutforged @makegoodchoices @theprinceofmarvel @blue-serendipityy @bookfrog242 @dopeyouth @wizardofstories @karsonromanoff @rightwereyouleftme @dumb-fawkin-bitch
#elizabeth olsen x reader#elizabeth olsen fluff#college Lizzie#she’s very neat#elizabeth olsen#lizzie olsen
341 notes
·
View notes
Text
You, and Only You
Summary:
Hope is the light at the end of the tunnel.
Featuring:
Tighnari (brief appearance), Alhaitham, Chubby Depressed!Reader
Tone:
Angst... with a happy ending. :)
Note:
An expansion of the second part of this headcanon. Second (impromptu) submission for @haithamuse's birthday collab.
Enjoy getting hurt! 💚
CW: Depression, thoughts of self-hate, self-worth issues, emotional detachment, depersonalization. Heavy self-insert.
🔗 AO3 | masterlist 🔗
That fateful day, you met up with him at the café to talk. He sat across you and held your hand.
“What is it you want to talk about?” he asked.
You gulped. Deep breaths. It’s okay, he’s my boyfriend. He’ll understand.
“I went to talk with a psychiatrist,” you began. “She said I have clinical depression.”
“Ah,” he sighed.
He lowered his gaze. You could swear you heard him whisper, perfect timing.
He turned to look back at you with a sickeningly sweet smile as he withdrew his hand from yours.
“Then, I’m ending this. Us, I mean.”
Your body went numb. “What?”
“Yes, well. I’ve long since suspected something like that was going on.”
You could almost hear the cracking sound of your heart breaking.
“And I am not dealing with it.”
Crash.
“I intend to end this sooner or later anyway.”
Burn.
You asked him why. “Why are you doing this?” “Did I do something wrong?” “Can I salvage this?” Just please, please don’t leave me—
You asked him even though you already knew the answer. He’s grown sick of me.
In the end, he left you with lots of excuses but never an apology.
You figured it was because you deserved nothing of the sort.
For no one owes the songless bird a chance to sing.
—
You woke up to someone knocking on the door. A familiar voice called your name several times.
“It’s Tighnari. You haven’t gone out of your room for two days.”
A pause.
“I’m worried about you. May I come in?”
You put the blanket over your head.
“Go away, Nari.”
A sob.
“You shouldn’t talk to a piece of shit like me.”
A muffled hiss.
“You are not a piece of shit.”
Another sob.
“Then tell me, what should I call myself? I’m a defect and no one—”
A choking sound.
“No one will ever love me.”
The sound of the door opening. Footsteps approaching. A dip on the bed. The light brush of a tail on your feet and a hand on your shoulder.
“Don’t say that, please. You’re my dear friend. I love you, and nothing will ever change that. Not even your diagnosis.”
The bed sprung back up.
“I’ll help you pack your things, all right? I’m bringing you to Gandharva Ville, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
You burst into tears again. Only the sound of your sobs and the shuffling of your clothes getting packed filled the room. Tighnari held your hand all the way to the carriage that brought you to Gandharva Ville, then shifted to patting your back along the way. A week off was the best he could help you get on such short notice—but that short week held your life together for the months ahead.
—
You’d been taking medication for several months. They had desirable effects, that much you didn’t deny. They fixed your sleep schedule, and the pain in your chest has numbed considerably.
But you knew that no medication could fill the emptiness in your heart.
“Why don’t you try joining a book club?” Tighnari had said. “You’ve always loved books, and the shared interests would make it easier for you to blend in.”
So here you were, in front of a house not far from the Akademiya. Some people were conversing just outside, and they invited you in when you asked about the book club.
You spotted a familiar gray head amongst the people sitting in the living room when you stepped inside.
… Alhaitham?
You felt chills all over your skin as he turned his gaze your way. Your lips parted when his eyes widened in recognition. You held your breath as he got up from his seat and walked toward you with restrained haste, a small smile forming on his lips.
“Hi,” he said.
His voice. I’ve almost forgotten his voice.
Your eyes felt hot as you held yourself back from embracing him there and then.
“Hi,” you squeaked.
You gulped down words you could never tell him. I’ve been missing you.
You clenched your fists to ground yourself. No, no. Do not even dare to hope. You will never accept me.
Your mind screamed words—words you could never let out because I am not worthy of you.
Words you could never say because you deserve the best, not a defect like me.
Your mind went blank, your breath hitched, because I’ve been missing you for so long, and I want your arms to wrap around me, for you to say you’ve been missing me too.
But you’re not mine, and you will never be.
Your eyes grew hotter, but you forced your lips to form a smile anyway.
“Long time no see,” your voice said.
—
“So that’s… yeah. That’s my update.”
A shiver rippled through every inch of your skin as Alhaitham took your hand into his and squeezed. His usually-sharp eyes looked deep into yours with a mellow gaze.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He squeezed your hand harder. “I should’ve—”
He shook his head.
“No. Never mind,” he said. He gave you a small smile as his fingers fiddled with yours, eliciting a blush from you. “Would you like me to slowly end his career or something?”
You grinned. You are such a softie. “No need,” you said. Thank you. “He’s not worth it.”
He hummed. “If you say so.”
You couldn’t help but notice that he always had his hands on you for the rest of the book club meet-up.
—
His soft, warm lips. The same lips you’d been daydreaming of for years, the same lips you’d kissed a thousand times in your mind, were pressing gently against your own lips, against you.
“I love you,” he declared softly, a tender smile on his lips. It’s that smile. “I’ve been in love with you since we were classmates.”
You felt tears start welling up in your eyes. “That long? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You already had a boyfriend when I realized my feelings for you. I’m sorry. I should’ve investigated more instead of just giving up and staying away.”
You felt your chest clenching. No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t wrong me.
You leaned forward to place a light kiss on his lips. If this is a dream, I hope it never ends. He pulled back in surprise.
You chuckled at his reaction. “It’s okay. Thank you.”
You let your tears roll down your cheeks as he gathered you into his arms, pressing your temple onto his sculpted chest.
—
“You’re never a waste of my time. I said I love you, and I mean it.”
He placed a kiss on your lips.
“I don’t mind that you’re chubby, or rather sickly, or prone to insecurities because of an illness you never wanted.”
Another kiss. He pulled away after a while, his half-lidded verdant eyes looking straight into yours. He smiled.
“I’ll always be there for you because I love you, and that’s final.”
—
“You are the love of my life, and I want you by my side for the rest of my days. Will you marry me?”
You let out an unceremonious sob.
“You still need to ask? I’m already yours, forever.”
—
“I, Alhaitham, take you as my wife.”
“And I…” You say your name with a shaky breath. “I take you as my husband.”
You put your arms around his neck as his hands find their way to your waist, pulling your body against his. He chuckles as he dips in to kiss your lips. The sound of your heartbeat is so loud, it drowns the small crowd’s cheers and sobs.
“You are perfect, my love,” he whispers. An evergreen smile blooms on his lips. “Until death do us part—no, until the end of time, I will always, always love you, and only you.”
You pull him into another kiss, savoring his warmth like there’s no tomorrow.
“And I, you.”
A bird’s song pierces through the cool morning air.
© @risustravelogue 2023 • no to reposting, yes to reblogging. feel free to send an ask to suggest, chat, etc. :)
#alhaitham#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham x you#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#genshin impact x you#genshin angst#genshin impact angst#kurisu writes
121 notes
·
View notes
Photo
𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!
a/n: I know the werewolves in the show are very humorous but I’m doing my own little angsty twist on it, m’kay? Love ya
Warnings: mentions of blood (there are vampires)
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ
SFW🌿
・Not a lot of people understood how a werewolf came to be. Well, you didn’t either.
・One day you woke up with an urge, and that urge grew and grew until the night of a full moon, when you had your first transformation
・You had completely blacked out. But with each full moon, the transformation became easier and easier
・On your own, you had mastered how to morph aspects of your appearance into wolf form. For example, your eyes glowing gold and your teeth turning into fangs
・You had been on your own for a while, juggling life and this huge secret, when you met Callum.
・Callum was the leader of the pack -
・He wasn’t always the smartest guy in the room. But he had a good heart, plus he was really experienced with the whole werewolf thing
・But you didn’t expect his reaction when you told him about you and Guillermo
・It was like a fit of rage, things were thrown around (not very far, and they were mostly things that he had bought)
・So you kept the relationship to yourself
・And you kept asking if Guillermo was worth it
・The man with such a sweet smile, his kindness was so heartwarming and he always listened to you
・He wasn’t like any other person you had met
・Plus, his determination was astounding
・He’d told you about his ambition to become a vampire. To leave the Familiar life behind and take hold of his destiny
・Although a hint of concern and sadness reached your subconscious, you mainly felt excited for him
・The late nights you’d spent at his place, secretly squeezing in his small space. You didn’t mind though. It didn’t matter whether you were underneath a staircase or at the Ritz hotel - you just wanted to be with Guillermo
・Some days you like to count the freckles on the bridge of his nose
・But those days are scarce - he’s usually awake before you are
・And he likes to surprise you with your favourite drink in bed, coupled with a bagle or toasted sandwich
・He constantly does little things like this. Getting you small gifts, or doing chores for you. Gift-giving and acts of service are his love language.
・While he loves when you think about him; helping with his Familiar work. Or buying him more clothes (sometimes the blood stains are hard to get out...)
・Quality time is also a must
・He enjoys taking you to the movies, or an art gallery
・Guillermo is a really intelligent guy, and he likes books a lot. But because of his lower class upbringing, he could only borrow books from the library
・And although you don’t have a lot of money, you go to second-hand stores and find books in his favourite genre
・You usually buy him about 5 books per week
・And he has them stacked up against the wall
・Guillermo was definitely apprehensive about leaving some of his belongings at your place, but you felt over the moon that your relationship had progressed that far
・ “Don’t feel pressured, but I’d love if you’d leave some stuff here. It feels ... like we’re serious...”
・He calls you “mi amor,” (”my love” in Spanish)
・And he’s DEFINITELY told his mother about you. He beams whenever he’s speaking about you; the swell of pride is amicable
・Your life feels fuller with him in it
・On the flip side, Guillermo constantly felt unworthy
・Having your love felt like was holding the most precious and expensive diamond in the world
・The way your eyes lit up when he remembered something, the clapping and snorts you made when you were laughing.
・He couldn’t imagine a life without you
・So he started to research: how long werewolves usually live, were there any vampire/werewolf hybrids. He even went to Nandor with his questions
“Guillermo,” the tall vampire said, quirking his eyebrow, “why do you need to know this?” His dark eyes narrowed.
“Oh, ugh, no - no reason. Just ... curious...”
“You know what they say about curiosity, Guillermo! It killed those cats because they were nosy ...” he trailed off and turned, leaving Guillermo standing in the hallway.
・There was one lazy afternoon when Guillermo turned to you, his hair ruffled and glasses on the bedside table. (It was much nicer staying at your place).
・ “I love you, do you know that?”
・His words felt like stepping into a hot shower on a cold winter morning, or like the first bite of your favourite food after a crappy day.
・ “I love you too, Guillermo.”
𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:
I’m Kissing You by Des’ree
𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:
You Look Dangerous But Are Actually A Sweetheart x He Looks Like A Sweetheart Is Actually Dangerous
Why Are We Surrounded By Idiots
Forbidden Love
Tagged: @autistic-solar-fandom.
#what we do in the shadows#what we do in the shadows headcanon#wwdtis#wwdits#wwdits headcanons#headcanons#dating would include#guillermo#guillermo x werewolf reader#guillermo x reader#guillermo de la cruz headcanons#guillermo de la cruz#nandor the relentless#nandor#tv show headcanons#fanfiction#what we do in the shadows fanfiction#reader insert#gender neutral#gender neutral reader
171 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sweet Like Honey - Caught In The Rain
Warnings: None
Word Count: 715
Note: I wrote this at the beginning of the month with the intention of of churning out little fics all month. Evidently that didn’t happen. But here’s a little Sweet Like Honey bonus content for your entertainment. It’s basically unedited so don’t come for me and my bad punctuation. Regular chapters continue this week she’s been a bit busy <3
-
Under normal circumstances, PDA isn’t his style but he also knows that Bee loves a good romcom and if he can give her that cheesy, cliche kiss in the rain moment, he’ll do his damndest to make her knees buckle.
Noah has a whole day for them planned. It’s their one day off for the week and Bee’s time off is nearing its end, meaning that they’ll be separated again way too soon. The first half of the day goes as planned, they look at sights, have a nice little lunch, do some more sightseeing. It’s surprisingly normal, if someone spots them they don’t make contact for which Noah is more than grateful. He luxuriates in her presences, allows himself to just be Noah the boyfriend who gets dragged around Boston so that his lady can look at all the pretty things. It’s nice enough. He takes her picture whenever she asks and even when she doesn’t. He keeps the candids to himself for the most part, pretty little reminders of his girl when she goes back home.
She’s dragged him into some little shop with little handmade trinkets. He doesn’t know how many of these shops they’ve already been to, but it makes her happy so he trudges along no matter how much he’d rather slip beneath the sheets of their bed right now. The twinkling in her eyes when she holds one of the little things she’s found up to him makes it worth it.
By the time they leave the story he’s a good fifty bucks lighter, but Bee has that little spring in her step and so he forgets about it. Fifty dollars doesn’t hurt his wallet anymore. He barely notices that the air has a significant chill now and if Bee notices it, it doesn’t seem to bother her.
When the first drop of rain hits his forehead they’re still a solid thirty minutes away from their hotel. Within no time one drop turns into a full on downpour that soaks them down to the bone in mere moments. He tries to shield her from the rain as best as he can while they maneouver the packed streets.
Noah pulls them under an awning, hoping that they’ll be able to wait out the worst of it. They’re soaked anyway so it doesn’t matter too much, but he doesn’t need either of them getting sick right now.
Bee’s hand is still wrapped firmly around his when they find a free spot between the other soaked bodies trying to escape the rain. Her fringe sticks to her forehead, droplets of rain trailing along the strands of hair and down her face. She looks gorgeous, even wet as a dog.
He brushes some of the wetness away from her cheek. Sometimes he still can’t quite believe it. Their start had been rough, but now that they’re through what he hopes to be the worst it’s absolute bliss. His fingers linger against her skin. It’s awfully cold.
“Whatcha thinking about, pretty boy?”
The nickname forces the blood to rush up into his cheeks, it always does.
“What I’m gonna do to you once we’re out of the rain and these clothes.” His reply comes low, whispered against her ear.
He bites back the rest of what he wants to say.
Bee squeezes his hand “Filthy.”
“Gotta use what time we have, don’t we?” He presses a kiss below her ear “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I sent you home without a souvenir of my own.”
He doesn’t know if the shiver that runs through her comes from the cold or his words. He likes to imagine that it’s the latter.
He shifts his hand behind her neck and pulls her in for a kiss. Under normal circumstances, PDA isn’t his style but he also knows that Bee loves a good romcom and if he can give her that cheesy, cliche kiss in the rain moment, he’ll do his damndest to make her knees buckle. He brings a hand behind her back so that he can lean into her a little more. She lets out a little gasp when he draws his tongue against her lip. The hand that still holds his squeezes tighter still.
She’s breathless and flushed bright pink when he pulls away from her. If she wants romcom, she’ll get romcom.
He leans back in, once more whispering against her ear so that only she can hear him “Soaked as you are, we might as well brave the rain.”
#fic: sweet like honey#bad omens rpf#bad omens fic#bad omens#noah sebastian fic#noah sebastian x ofc#noah sebastian fanfiction#Noah Sebastian#BONUS CONTENT HOURS BOYS
25 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
bessaartwork
bessa artworks
irdailynews
IR Daily News
theblackarticle
BlackArticle.com
ronderuu-blog
RONDERU__