#I've been on a 'I live how I want' kick recently | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

casualhedonists · 3 months

Text

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 5/6

words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)

chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.

moodboards

series masterlist

a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

He was back to ignoring you again.

But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.

Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.

Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.

You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.

This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.

The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.

For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month.

Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.

He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.

This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.

Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.

You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.

He was going to have to need you more.

You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.

You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.

So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.

You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.

Until it wasn’t.

“Something’s wrong, what is it?”

Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”

“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.

Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”

“But you’re not dressed-”

“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She smiled softly.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.

“Come in.”

You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.

He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.

“Lucille forget how to do her job?”

“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”

You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.

“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.

His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.

“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.

So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.

He cleared his throat.

“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”

You paused.

“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”

You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Consider it done.”

You looked up.

“Really?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.

“I- no, but…”

“It’s something that matters to you.”

You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.

“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”

“Thank you. Or, I mean…”

He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -

You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.

“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.

“Yes. Almost.”

The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.

As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.

You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-

You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.

Or so you thought.

It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.

The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.

And he knew that too.

It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.

“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.

“Sure.”

You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.

“You were upset today.” He started.

You swallowed.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.

“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”

You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.

“Do you even care if I’m upset?”

“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”

You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.

“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”

He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.

“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”

The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.

“Fine. Go.”

You nodded.

“Goodnight.”

You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.

That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.

“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”

A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.

Well.

Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.

Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.

“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”

Another eruption of giggles.

“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”

“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”

You gasped in mock modesty.

“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”

“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”

You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.

It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.

“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”

A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.

“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.

“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.

“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.

You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.

“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”

“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.

“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”

“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”

Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.

“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”

A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.

Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.

Show him what he’s missing.

Simple. It’s what you did best.

“Watch and learn, ladies.”

A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.

The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.

Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.

You didn’t think about any of that.

Because your lips were on his.

Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.

It was sinful.

You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.

He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.

Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.

It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.

Not in this lifetime.

The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.

How’s that for tasting your own medicine.

Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.

“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”

His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.

“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”

You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.

“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.

He stepped closer.

“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.

“Nothing.” You shrugged.

“Didn’t feel like nothing.”

“That’s called acting, Snow.” You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”

He folded his arms.

“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”

“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.

He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.

He glared at you when you laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”

You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.

“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”

You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.

There was a rap on the door.

“President Snow?”

“Just a minute.” He said coolly.

“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.

“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”

He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.

“How many of those have you had?”

You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.

“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.

“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”

His eyes pierced yours.

“Doll-”

“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.

“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”

You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.

“Sweetheart.” He warned.

“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”

He gave an incredulous half-laugh.

“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”

“That depends. How long is forever?”

The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.

“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.

“You missed a spot.”

You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.

He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.

“Thought you said we’d talk.”

“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”

“Seriously?”

He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.

“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.

“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”

He offered another unimpressed glance.

“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”

You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.

He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”

You took that in.

“Do you feel that way about me?”

He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.

“No. Not really.”

“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.

“Not necessarily.”

“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”

His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.

“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”

“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”

“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”

You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.

“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”

He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.

“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”

He frowned, waiting for you to continue.

“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.

“I’m no better than a whore myself.”

You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.

After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.

“Sit down.”

You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.

“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you.

“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.

You kept your eyes averted.

“Am I wrong?”

He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.

He was mad.

“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?

“I don’t-”

“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”

You felt a tear spill down your cheek.

“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”

“Of course not."

“But you’d replace me if I left.”

“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”

A chill caressed your spine.

“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.

“What?”

His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.

“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”

His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.

Your voice was pathetically quiet.

“Then why don’t you?”

He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.

“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”

You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.

“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”

You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.

You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.

“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.

A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.

“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”

“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”

“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.

“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”

The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.

You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.

“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.

“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”

“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”

“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”

“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.

“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”

You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.

You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.

“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.

“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”

“What kind of things?”

She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.

“He’d kill me for telling you.”

“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”

She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.

“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”

You swallowed.

“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”

“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.

After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?

Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.

You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.

Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.

It had a false bottom.

Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.

Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.

Military. The districts. The dog tag.

You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.

Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.

But why? When? And why keep it a secret?

In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.

You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.

You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.

You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.

They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.

Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.

You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.

Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?

Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.

Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.

When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.

He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.

Rage.

Your eyes met his in the mirror.

“Coriolanus, I-”

His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.

“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”

“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.

“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.

The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.

Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.

“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”

“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”

He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.

Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.

“How did you find this?” He snapped.

You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.

“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.

“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”

“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.

You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.

Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.

“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”

He scoffed.

Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?

“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”

“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.

“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”

Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.

“Good.”

Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.

He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.

Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.

“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.

“What?”

When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.

“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”

What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.

Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.

So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.

His fingers slipped under one of the straps.

“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.

“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”

More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.

And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.

You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -

“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.

“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”

He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.

You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.

“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”

He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.

But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.

“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.

“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”

You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.

Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.

You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.

One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.

“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”

You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.

This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”

“I can’t…” You trailed off.

“You can tell me.”

Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”

He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.

“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”

You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“What? No, that’s not…”

He cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”

“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”

“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”

You nodded into his chest.

“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.

“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.

“Coryo?”

He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.

“Of course you can.”

a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88

(more tags in the reblogs/comments)

if you’d like to be tagged, pls comment on the series masterlist (helps me keep track of everyone!!) 💌

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow #tom blyth #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #snow x reader #snow x you #attention #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #x reader #x you smut

1K notes · View notes

ineffable-romantics · 9 months

Text

Some thoughts on why and how I believe Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship would incorporate sex/why I do not read them as wholly asexual:

This is something I've seen the most discourse about in this fandom, and I've had a few thoughts of my own that I really wanted to expand upon in a full meta/character analysis post. I do understand that this can be a contentious topic, so first, let me clarify a few things:

First of all, this is going to be long. Tbh it probably won't be that organized either. I ramble and I'm not very good at editing, so just... you know. Be warned. (*Hi, it's me from 2 days after writing this; I'm really not kidding, it's LONG)

These are all my own thoughts. They might not be hot takes, because recently I've seen more than a few people come to the same conclusions on a lot of these points as I have. But I've also had these notes in my drafts for about a week and a half now, and have been continuously adding to it as things have occurred to me. This post is essentially just somewhere for me to collect the separate but related meta I've been kicking around in my head.

I fully respect anyone who does see and prefer an asexual reading of this relationship. These are my own thoughts and interpretations as someone who is not asexual. I am in the LGBT+ community, so while I do know a few things about the asexuality spectrum, I am by no means an expert.

This is NOT something I expect, need, or even necessarily want the show (or, God forbid, Neil's tumblr ask box) to address. Tonally, it's just not that kind of show. Newt and Anathema's sex scene was very much played for laughs, and it worked for that reason. If the show found a way to address it in a way that was both appropriate for the tone of the show and ultimately satisfying, then great! But there is so much more to this relationship than sex, and I didn't need a kiss to confirm their love, so I certainly don't need a sex scene. As immortal beings (as I assume they'll stay) there is so much of the rest of their lives we'll never get to see. You can headcanon them as asexual and potentially be right. I can headcanon them as not and be equally potentially right. Again, these are just a collection of my own thoughts, because I think the question of sexuality (or lack thereof) is just as interesting a facet of these characters as any other.

Note: Tbh I've been second-guessing this whole post and debated deleting the whole thing several times for being silly or unnecessary, bc I don't want anyone to think that this is the only thing I care about when it comes to this story/characters. But if nothing else, it's inspired me to write in a way that nothing has in a very long time, so I've decided it's worth continuing, if for no other reason than that.

This is going to be a mixed bag of textual reading, subtextual reading, and a full-on reach or two. It's been a while since I've been in an English class, but if my teachers expected me to find a deeper meaning behind blue curtains, you can expect me to read too deeply into the symbolism of a loaded rifle or an ox rib. (This is probably not what my professors had in mind when grading my literary analysis papers but oh well) My point is, if it feels like a reach, I'm as aware of it as you are. I am in no way saying that all (or even any) of my points made were deliberate on the part of Neil or the actors or the writers or the directors. I am no longer the delulu Apple Tree Yard child of my youth, I promise.

If anything said here is in any way offensive or hurtful to anyone in the asexual community, please do not hesitate to message me or comment and let me know exactly what it was. I promise you it is not my intention to do so, and am happy to clarify or outright edit anything that reads that way.

With all that being said, let's talk about why I think Crowley and Aziraphale would absolutely fuck nasty incorporate sex into their relationship.

Note: I am out of practice with essay writing, so I think I'll just go down the bullet points of notes I have been making, and expand on each as best I can

Food

Where better to start than with Aziraphale's introduction to Pleasures Of The Flesh? (Just a heads up, this entire post may feel very Aziraphale-heavy, and with good reason).

This might be the least hot take here. We've all seen the Job minisode. We've all seen That Scene.

Whether this was intentional or not, the symbolism here is off the charts. Eve was tempted by an apple. So why not go a similar route and tempt Aziraphale with another fruit, or cheese, or bread, or literally anything else for his first experience with food? Instead, we go with a huge, glistening slab of fresh meat that he proceeds to absolutely go feral upon, moaning and gasping into his meal while Crowley watches with what definitely doesn't look to be disgust or even satisfaction with a good temptation. There's surprise at the ferocity of Aziraphale's appetite, certainly. But ultimately he looks to be intensely fascinated by it, while the thunder crashes, the music crescendos, and the earth literally shakes around them.

(It's also interesting to note how very little it takes for Crowley to tempt him with the ox rib. One murmured suggestion, a bit of unwavering eye contact, and vavoom Aziraphale immediately meets him in the middle.)

Cut to Aziraphale devouring the rest of the meat with Crowley splayed back on a makeshift bed, drinking wine and continuing to watch him indulge through half-lidded eyes. Outside a thunderstorm rages while they're learning secrets about each other in warm flickering firelight. It's cosy, it's intimate, and if they'd thrown in a bearskin throw blanket, it might as well be a post-coital scene straight out of Game of Thrones.

The next time (chronologically) we see them discuss food is when Aziraphale "tempts" Crowley with oysters in Rome. So Crowley first tempts Aziraphale with meat and then Aziraphale tempts Crowley with what is widely regarded to be an aphrodisiac. Interesting.

And then chronologically after that, the Arrangement begins to form, which has always reeked of a friends with benefits situation. Just to throw that in there.

It's What Humans Do

In the very first episode, we're shown Gabriel's obvious disgust and bewilderment towards Aziraphale eating sushi, calling it "gross matter" and being proud of the fact that he does not sully his body with it. Aziraphale initially tries to defend his own enjoyment in it, before passing it off as something that humans do, as something he simply has to do in order to blend in (which we know very well is not the case).

He does this again in season 2, passing off Nina and Maggie being in love as "something humans do". But it isn't, is it? Angels are beings of love, and can sense it, and understand very well what it is... up to a point. Even romantic love is obviously within their wheelhouse, given what we now know happened between Gabriel and Beelzebub (we'll come back to them).

What the "humans do" that angels wouldn't understand is messy, physical forms of love.

But here's the thing: Aziraphale and Crowley love doing what the humans do. They love drinking, they (or at least Aziraphale) love eating. They love music. Crowley loves driving and sleeping and watching rom-coms and sitcoms. Aziraphale loves reading and doing magic and earning little licenses and certificates for achievement in his various hobbies. They love to playact at being human so much that they've stopped playacting and started building a genuinely human lifestyle for themselves and with each other.

Once together in an unambiguously romantic sense, why do we think they wouldn't also want to explore one of the most prominent, intimate, powerful human expressions of love and desire with each other?

Angels, Demons, & Asexuality

Here's where I really want to clarify that in no way do I mean that sex is necessary for a healthy, fulfilling, and loving romantic relationship, or that the lack of desire for sex makes you any less human. Asexuality is a sexuality as valid and human as any. What I would say is that it is definitely in the human minority compared to allosexuality.

Angels and demons, on the other hand, are predominately asexual. Sexless/genderless unless Making An Effort. (Which, btw, is a concept introduced as early as the original book; why even bring it up as a possibility? Why not keep angels/demons being sexless/asexual as a hard and fast rule, if not to open up the potential for later use? Chekhov's Effort, if you will. And isn't that something that Aziraphale in particular is shown to do time and time again? He makes an effort in French and driving and magic, doesn't he?)

And this is why I don't believe Aziraphale and Crowley necessarily need to be asexual, narratively. There is already a huge amount of ace rep within the angels and demons (and no, not just the horrible ones. Muriel also doesn't "drink the tea" and has no reason or desire thus far to Make An Effort, and there are certainly other angels and demons who aren't horrible like the archangels seem to be who likely wouldn't Make An Effort either).

The central conflict for Aziraphale and Crowley is that they are on their own side, the ones who went native, the ones who are so different in so many ways from their respective hives. It would make sense for them to also break away from traditional angel/demon asexuality.

I say "traditional angel/demon asexuality", because I would also like to note that I would absolutely not rule out demisexuality for either of them. This post is being written to as a response to people who specifically believe that they (like the rest of the angels/demons seem to be) would be sex-averse in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be a factor in their relationship. I could easily read them as demisexual, but I do think there would be no real way of verifying this, because they've never been able to form as close an emotional relationship with anyone else but each other. Certainly not in heaven, and I can't imagine they would be able to form that kind of attachment with any of the humans, who they love and emulate but ultimately regard as the separate species they are. So yes, they could either be allosexual or demisexual, in my opinion.

Then again, now that I think about it, Making An Effort itself could be a great metaphor for demisexuality, since they would be entirely sexless/asexual until they have enough of an emotional connection with someone to consciously manifest otherwise. Since the other angels and demons don't generally form those types of emotional connections with anyone, there hasn't been a precedent for it.

Except...

Brielzebub

We do have a precedent for it now, don't we? Gabriel and Beelzebub fell in love. They are a direct foil for Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, speedrunning right through their courtship and finding their happily ever after on the other side of things.

For being such a 1 to 1 comparison, it feels deliberate that they did not kiss. They held hands, they were gooey with each other, but they did not kiss. That feels like such a deliberate thing to omit when you know what's to come at the end of the episode between Crowley and Aziraphale.

And going back to the food = sex metaphor for a moment, let's notice how even as they fell in love over the years, even when pints and crisps were there on the table in front of them, they never felt the desire to reach out for them. They didn't need to. It's a date (love story) even if you aren't eating dinner (sleeping together).

Yes, I know Jim liked hot chocolate. No, I am not counting it because I don't consider Jim and Gabriel to be the same person with the same proclivities, and Jim was highly suggestible at the time anyway.

Gabriel and Brielzebub's big happily ever after moment (as of now) was one between two asexual supernatural beings. They did not need to kiss to drive the point home. They showed what Crowley and Aziraphale could have, if they would only acknowledge it.

Crowley & Aziraphale's Dissatisfaction

But they do have that already, don't they? If you really think about it, what do Gabriel and Beelzebub do with each other that Crowley and Aziraphale don't already? They hold hands, they spend time together, they create little rituals, they give gifts, they're visibly and verbally affectionate with each other, etc. They are more or less already in a romantic asexual marriage relationship with each other, aren't they?

And it doesn't seem to be enough for either of them.

At the beginning of the season, Crowley is immediately shown to be unsatisfied with the way things are. Obviously part of it comes from living in his car, but it seems to be more than that (especially since Aziraphale makes it clear that the bookshop is just as much Crowley's as his, implying that he could have been living there the whole time and is choosing not to, for some reason?). You could argue he's feeling unmoored without Hell telling him what to do, but isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what he still wants, by the end of the season? All season long, he's never indicated the desire for a new job, or a new project. He stopped the apocalypse because he wanted the freedom to openly spend time with Aziraphale, to spend his time on Earth however he sees fit. Until Gabriel arrives, he has exactly that (minus a flat).

So where does the dissatisfaction come from? And if it represents anything to do with his relationship, what does he want out of it that he isn't getting already?

I think Crowley only really comes to the realisation of what he's missing when Nina names it for him, not only putting them in the category of romantic, but physical (outright asking if they are sleeping together). These two posts [1], [2] go into more detail about what I mean, but I think it really pushes him into acknowledging that their relationship is more human than either of them have stopped to consider, and what that might mean as far as everything a human relationship can entail.

After all, Nina and Maggie only advised that he should talk to Aziraphale, make clear his feelings. The decision to kiss him, to tip them over the edge from nonphysical to physical, that was all him. And no, kissing isn't sex, but I wonder how taboo even that might be in the kind of all-encompassing asexuality most angels seem to identify with. (If they're disgusted by food and drink, I can only imagine what they think of snogging, much less sex.)

Aziraphale doesn't have this moment of someone observing their relationship from the outside. He loves Crowley, and as of 1941 probably even knows he's in love with him in a way that Crowley doesn't understand yet. Which makes sense, since love is technically his job, he'd be more likely to recognise it for what it is.

However, Aziraphale's reference for romance and relationships is Jane Austen. It's chaste. It's dancing and dinner and doing sweet things for each other and roses and candles and handholding. He contextualises his love for Crowley in that soft fantasy sort of way, where it's there, it's obviously there, but it's neat and easy and unspoken. Not to quote Glee in this, the year of our lord 2023, but it's all very "the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets".

Someone should tell that to Aziraphale's face, then.

I'm not going to pretend I know what Michael Sheen's script notes were, but there were definitely some Choices™ made. Because yes, there were plenty of moments in both seasons with Aziraphale looking at Crowley in a sweet, loving, smitten way. And then there were moments that were yearning.

But yearning for what, exactly? All of those sappy Jane Austen tropes already apply to the two of them. So why are there moments where Aziraphale is looking Crowley up and down like the last eclair in the window and licking his lips and visibly exhaling like he's trying to get in control of himself (see: Bastille scene + Crowley telling Muriel to ask him if they have any other questions about love)? Why is Aziraphale not only unconcerned when Crowley shoves him bodily up against a wall in s1, but staring at his lips and a beat too late in noticing Sister Mary's arrival? Why are some of his lines so suggestive? I'm sorry, but the car ride after the church explosion might as well have been the beginning of a Pizza Man porn with a really weird Blitz theme. If even my mother picked up on that vibe, I can't imagine it wasn't intentional on part of both the dialogue and the delivery.

(This section may feel like more of a reach/joke, but I'm really only 20% joking. These are writers and actors who are EXTREMELY good at their jobs; they know what they were doing here.)

More importantly, I don't think Aziraphale is even aware that there is more to what he wants. He lives in the Jane Austen fantasy and it never even occurs to him that he might be interested in anything further. It never even occurs to him that, as an angel, there is anything further to be interested in in the first place. Until Crowley forces it to occur to him. Just like I believe Nina forced Crowley to confront the idea that romantic love is what he's been feeling all along, I believe Crowley forced Aziraphale to confront the idea that physical intimacy is something he's been wanting, without even realising.

Aziraphale's Hedonism

Expanding on Aziraphale for a moment. We talked about his relationship with food, but we all know that Aziraphale is defined by his love of things that Feel Good.

It isn't just that he and Crowley love human things. Aziraphale loves the best of the best, or at least his version of it. He doesn't just love food, he loves going to fancy restaurants. He doesn't just love clothes, he loves soft, cosy, warm, plush clothes, or shiny, flashy, bougie fashion. He loves the warmth of tea and cocoa, loves getting drunk, and sitting in a comfy chair in the sunlight. He doesn't just experience, he indulges.

Given the emphasis put on things that Aziraphale loves just because they Feel Good, it feels narratively strange to assume that he wouldn't enjoy the feeling of being touched, or that he wouldn't be willing to try it, at least once, with someone he cared very deeply for. And just like the ox rib, I think that once he gets the first taste of things, he would absolutely tip over into complete and utter self-indulgence.

Dancing

I also think that dancing could be construed as a huge metaphor here. After all, we're told flat-out that angels don't Dance. Except one.

I would argue that Aziraphale, in fact, Made An Effort to learn how to Dance. He threw himself into the gavotte with delight (at a Victorian gay club; noted) and worked hard to be good at it. He's chomping at the bit to Dance with Crowley, working up the nerve to ask him with undeniably romantic intent and eagerness. So, angels don't Dance... unless they Make An Effort to do so.

We are told that demons, on the other hand, do Dance, but not well. Makes sense, since they're the ones who would want to encourage a deadly sin like lust, but have as little understanding of human love and physical intimacy as the angels. Crowley, however, is shown to be an excellent dancer at the ball, especially in his compatibility with Aziraphale.

(But Aziraphale WandaVisioned the ball so everyone knew how to dance! Yes, he did. However, the rest of the brainwashing doesn't seem to affect Crowley in any way, and they did actually live through the time period where this sort of dancing was a social norm; I'd be surprised if he never needed to learn. After all, the demons can't spell either, and Crowley is at least functionally literate, as far as we know.)

As of today, it's also been confirmed that when Aziraphale asked Crowley to dance, Crowley replied with "you don't dance." Not "WE don't dance". So going along with the metaphor, Crowley is just now discovering that Dancing is something Aziraphale is interested in at all, much less with him, and not denying that he himself is interested in Dancing. In his defense, I believe he was asleep for a few years while Aziraphale was learning the gavotte, so he wasn't exactly aware of Aziraphale's hot girl summer.

Love Languages

I want to expand on that; Crowley and Aziraphale's compatibility. Specifically in regards to their individual love languages.

We all know Crowley's love language is Acts of Service. I don't think there's any debate there. He loves it, Aziraphale loves it, they're both aware of it, we're all aware of it, God and Satan are aware of it, no surprise there.

You may disagree with me, but I believe Aziraphale's love language is Physical Touch, for a number of reasons. One of which being his aforementioned hedonism. Aziraphale likes things that Feel Good, remember? He likes soft clothes, and well-worn books. Neil himself has said that they like holding hands. And any time he is taken by surprise (Brielzebub getting together, the wave of love in Tadfield, etc.) what is the first thing he does? Reaches out for Crowley. He stops him with a hand to the chest in the pub. He leads him by the hand to the dance floor. He guides him by the waist in the graveyard. He reaches out during the entire Brielzebub scene, whether he can reach Crowley or not. Despite his own turmoil, he grasps at Crowley's back during the kiss.

The one time Crowley reaches out for him (not counting the kiss yet; we'll get there), he is aggressively pushed against a wall (by someone he loves and trusts) with a complete and utter lack of concern (and perhaps some interest, depending on how you read it).

And when he isn't reaching out for anyone, or there isn't anyone to reach out to? Well, he's wringing his own hands together, squeezing his own fingers, as if to find that physical comfort in himself.

So. With that theory in mind, we have Aziraphale (Physical Touch) + Crowley (Acts of Service). Throw in 6000+ years of deep love, cherished companionship, and forcibly repressed longing, and there is a very real potential of this combination resulting in fierce sexual compatibility. Where Aziraphale would want to touch and be touched, to indulge in physical pleasure with someone he adores, in the same the way he indulges in every other fine thing in his life. And where Crowley would want to indulge him in return, to give him everything he wants, and to take pleasure in Aziraphale's pleasure, in the same way he enjoys watching him take joy in food everything else.

So Aziraphale is an angel who is insecure about his own less-than-holy desires, who would want to treat Crowley like a luxury to be touched and cherished and adored. And Crowley is a demon who has, over the millennia, been unhappy about how they've been forced to deny even their friendship with each other, who would want Aziraphale to feel comfortable and safe and encouraged to indulge in earthly delights. That sounds like a stunning recipe for sexual compatibility to me.

"You said 'trust me'" / "And you did"

Just like the Job minisode, the Blitz is RIFE with symbolism (intentional or otherwise). This one will be quick, but I did want to touch on it because I thought it was interesting. Maybe I'm reaching at this point, but I'm assuming you read the tin.

First of all, Crowley not wanting to admit to never firing a gun before; comes off as someone who very much does not want to admit to their crush that they're a virgin ("You must have done this lots of times!" / "Umm.... yyyyyeah.")

(You could make the argument that Aziraphale having a firearms license and a Derringer in a hollowed-out book is symbolic of him not being a virgin while Crowley is. I disagree, for reasons I'll go into later, but it's a valid reading. However, I see it more like keeping a condom in your wallet; it's there in case you need it, but the opportunity has not yet risen no pun intended.)

More importantly, the theme of this entire minisode is trust. We already know they trust each other with their lives against the rest of Heaven, Hell, and the world. But specifically, this is about the importance of having complete trust in your partner in a charged, physically vulnerable, intimate moment, where the only danger is between the two of you.

Aziraphale needs to believe Crowley would never hurt him if he can help it. Crowley needs to trust Aziraphale's unwavering blind faith in him. Frankly, it all feels very symbolic of two people deeply in love losing their respective virginities with each other.

The trick is a success, and they share an intimate candlelit dinner in which they reaffirm their faith in each other. Aziraphale also begins to voice his agreement with Crowley, that maybe Heaven's rules shouldn't have to be as black and white as they are, and that there are benefits to... blurring the lines, shades of grey, wink wink (at which point even my mom was like, whoa guys, this is a family show).

Btw also: Can we all agree how much it looked like Crowley was getting ready to get a lapdance in that one scene? You know the one.

Also also: "Aim for my mouth"? Come on.

The Birds & The Bees

Now that I think of it, there's also something to be said for the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale are both obviously familiar with where babies come from (how they're made and how they're born) while the other angels aren't.

Something something Aziraphale and Crowley fundamentally understand sex and reproduction in a way the other angels (and probably demons) very much do not, nor have any desire to.

Probably not important. Just thought it was worth mentioning.

The Kiss™ & Religious Trauma

The Kiss. Where to even begin?

This has definitely been the hardest one to start, because there is so much going on here that I definitely won't be able to cover it all, and will certainly miss a few things here and there.

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss afterwards is the most interesting to me. And I don't mean directly after, I don't mean the "I forgive you" part. I mean the way he touches his lips when Crowley is no longer in the room and he no longer needs to save face, when he is completely alone. Had it been directly after the kiss, it would have been rightfully read as horror, or disgust, a shield to discourage further action.

It's not. It isn't just a touch, it's a press. As desperate and angry and unexpected and imperfect as the kiss had been, Aziraphale is pressing it into himself, recreating the feeling as best he can. Beneath all the poor timing and shock and hurt from their fight and fallout, I think it's fair to say that it was something he enjoyed. Something he doesn't think he should enjoy, something that Feels Good that he only allows himself to indulge in when completely alone.

Remember, Aziraphale's idea of love is Jane Austen and gentleness and courtship and fantasy. If he'd ever even considered kissing an option, it might have been gentle pecks, cheek kisses, forehead kiss, hand kisses. Soft, safe, chaste affection.

Crowley's kiss turns all of that on its head. He introduces physical intimacy in a very real, very messy, very human way that I don't think Aziraphale ever even considered could apply to them. Considering what other angels are like and what they look down on, even Aziraphale's Jane Austen fantasies probably would have been considered taboo.

So for their first kiss to be rough and desperate and passionate in the way it was, of course he was confused and in shock. It was deeply physical, and as overwhelming and awful as it was in the moment, it Felt Good. Enough that he grasped at Crowley and kissed back, if only just for a moment, before stopping himself. Enough that he actively pressed it into his lips afterwards, in private, to remember.

I adore how Neil has decided to evolve these characters past the first book/season. More so in this season, Aziraphale and Crowley have both become such interesting allegories for queer people on either side of the spectrum of toxic religion. Aziraphale in particular obviously, because he is the side that so desperately wants to believe, to make a difference, and to unlearn all of the propaganda he's been fed over such a long time. Just like so much of organised religion, there is so much that he is told, time and time again, that he should not want, that he is silly or stupid or outright wrong for wanting. It reminds me so much of the severe Catholic guilt one might feel for wanting/engaging in sex for the first time, and the stigma of being queer layered on top of that.

What is so critical to Aziraphale's character is that he goes on wanting, and more than that, actively pursues. He was convinced to go up against Heaven and Hell and stop all of Armageddon because he wanted to go on listening to music and eating lunch and reading books and enjoying the simple company of the person he cares most deeply for, even if that person is supposed to be the enemy.

All this to say that if angels are as generally asexual/sex-averse as I believe them to be, narratively speaking, it would make sense for Aziraphale to be singular in that regard as well. Mirroring his first experience with food, it would make sense for Crowley to be the one to first introduce this new messy, physical, human dynamic between them, for Aziraphale to hesitate (obviously we are at the Hesitation phase at the moment), and then (eventually) for him to dive in wholeheartedly, to absolutely glut himself on this new thing that Feels Good. It would make sense for his character development to show him overcoming his metaphorical Catholic guilt and pursuing the sexual intimacy most (if not all) of the other angels would scorn.

(I can't help but remember that plot idea Neil described from the unwritten sequel, with Aziraphale in a hotel room trying to watch a full porno by way of the free 2-minute teaser clips so he wasn't technically sinning by paying for it. I so hope this is used in season 3, because gosh, I wonder why Aziraphale would suddenly be so interested in observing human physical intimacy after 6,000 years. Lonely and doing a little surreptitious research there, angel?)

Crowley, on the other hand, is the queer person who has broken free from his toxic religion. He prides himself on being his own person, on their his own side. He doesn't have the hang-ups Aziraphale does. He doesn't worry that he's going to be judged or cast aside for wanting things he's not supposed to. So it only makes sense for him to be the first one to suggest/initiate physical intimacy. It makes sense for him to be the one who "goes too fast" (another fantastic example of this dynamic beginning as early as s1; what is that conversation in the car meant to represent, if not Aziraphale being overwhelmed by the intensity of their relationship, and his fear of succumbing to it when he believes he shouldn't? It's also interesting that this is the first conversation to take place in Soho, just after watching Aziraphale realise he's caught feelings for a demon, with the red glow of lust serving as the backdrop).

Do I think the kiss in and of itself was sexual? No. I think it was a passionate and devastating last-ditch effort on Crowley's part to convey the way he feels for Aziraphale. Not just that he loves him, but that he loves him in the most human way possible. But I do think that the kiss represents how they can move forward from here, and what they might want to explore with each other once they feel free enough to do so.

In Conclusion

I am sure, deep in my bones (unless we are explicitly told otherwise), that this was both of their first kisses no, I'm not counting the gavotte, and that neither of them have ever thought to do anything else physical with the humans while they have been on Earth. Like I said before, they adore the human race and lifestyle in general, but ultimately view them as a separate species altogether, and they seem mostly happy to keep to themselves and each other, unless otherwise necessary. I just can't see either of them being drawn enough to a human to pursue anything close to sex. If Crowley in particular has had anything to do with sex in the context of temptations, I'm positive he would be inciting lust amongst the humans themselves, not involving himself directly. At least not that directly.

So, like every other human experience they've had on Earth, sex is something new that they could explore together, just the two of them, on their own side. A deeply intimate, tangible declaration of their love and everything they've gone through to earn it. A visceral finger to give both Heaven and Hell. A renewed appreciation for their corporations and for each other's. A enjoyable method for immortal beings to simply pass the time in each other's company. A new and exciting way to Feel Good, and all the variations that come with it.

You might agree with this post, or you might not. Whether this is something that is ever addressed or not, it doesn't matter to me. This is a brilliant love story either way, and I genuinely feel so privileged to witness it.

But I just can't find it in myself to imagine, given everything we know about these two characters, that sex isn't an experience they would both consume with wholehearted enthusiasm, curiosity, and profound, ineffable adoration.

___________________________________

Bonus feature: the very silly notes I made to myself that inspired this post

2K notes · View notes

kamaluhkhan · 5 days

Text

COMPLICATED

LUST — part iv of we'll write sins like tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 8.9k summary: the lives of demigods are never simple. why would your relationship with luke be any different? or: four moments of tension + one moment of release. featuring a trip to montauk with percy, grover, and annabeth warnings: a decent amount of reader backstory (mention of dad having cancer); multiple POVs (percy, grover, annabeth, luke, reader - obv nothing suggestive/smutty until luke and reader POV); luke + reader get into arguments and are v stressed so their relationship is a bit strained; reader has tattoos; reader is on birth control; rough smut (protected + unprotected p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, slight breeding kink, etc...); also slight dark + possessive luke! (18 + MDNI); major angst — we all know how this story ends ;( author's note: this was meant to be a blurb but...here we are! this is basically another chapter of my spill ur guts series lol. i've been gone for much longer than i planned to, but hope u enjoy possibly the angstiest, smuttiest thing i've written so far ♡

♪ "complicated" by avril lavigne

in the span of a few minutes, percy went from pure joy — being greeted with cheers from all the campers was great, sure, but truthfully the hug from annabeth alone sent him to elysium — to feeling like his heart dropped all the way to tartarus.

which is definitely not a place percy ever wants to visit again. he was happy to be back at camp with his friends, knowing that his quest was completed, his mom was safe in new york, and a war between the gods was prevented.

it should be over….but there’s something in the back of percy’s mind that’s telling him it isn’t. seeing a certain someone in the crowd earlier didn’t do anything to ease that feeling.

"can someone explain to me why clarisse is still here?"

you raise an eyebrow at luke, and he shrugs in response. it seems neither of you had decided who should break the news, and neither of you seem particularly excited to do so, even after dragging percy, along with annabeth and grover, into the empty hermes cabin for some privacy.

after another beat of silence, you take the lead.

“look, kid, i know you and clarisse got off to a rocky start —”

“she tried to drown me, and then basically kill me during capture the flag,” percy points out. he hears an ocean roaring at the memory, but that could have also been from his duel with clarisse’s dad, the god of war, more recently.

a duel that percy had won, for the record. luke trained him well.

“and i’m not defending that,” you clarify. “i’m just saying that we’ve known clarisse for much longer. she’s not perfect, maybe a bit aggressive sometimes — trust me, she and i have had some major disagreements, too — but i can’t see her doing something like this.”

“why would anyone at camp want to steal the bolt? to join kronos’ army against the gods?” annabeth wonders. to herself or to the group, percy isn’t sure, but he has a feeling that the wheels in her mind are turning.

“revenge, maybe?” grover suggests.

almost instinctively, grover glances at you, and so does annabeth. percy wants to kick himself for doing the same.

with you being the daughter of nemesis, he imagines that it's not the first time you’d been blamed for something just because of who you are. it’s a feeling percy knows all too well. and, for better or for worse, like percy, it seems like you’re not one to accept these things without a fight.

you straighten your shoulders, ready to snap back, but before you can, luke declares:

“it’s not her.”

he then knocks the toe of his shoe against your combat boot. you smile and return the gesture. the tension eases out of the room.

for a second, percy wonders if he’ll ever have someone like that: someone to defend like it’s second nature, to share that sort of secret language with, to smile at him like nothing else in the world matters.

according to annabeth, the two of you weren’t technically dating — but percy is pretty sure that aphrodite is swooning over you.

“see, grove? if camp half-blood’s golden boy can vouch for me, then i’m in the clear.” your tone is playful enough — no hard feelings — but the tips of grover’s ears still turn red. “i didn’t steal the bolt. sure, the gods and titans can tear each other apart for all i care — "

annabeth stiffens at your bold statement, and grover starts to nervously chew on an empty diet coke can he had stashed in his pocket. luke watches you with the hint of a smile on his face, and percy —

well, percy can’t help but admire you even more.

"— but it's everything else that i have an issue with.”

“everything else?”

you look at percy like the answer is obvious.

“when have the gods ever fought their battles without us as collateral damage? doesn’t seem worth it to me, to betray my friends.”

that itch in the back of percy’s brain gets harder to ignore.

“the oracle warned me, betrayed by a friend.”

“prophecies don't always come true,” annabeth reminds him. “at least not in the way we expect them to.”

“annie is right,” luke adds, nodding at his sister. “mine didn't. the oracle said i would die a hero.”

you turn to luke then, your eyebrows furrowed.

“what? you never told me that.”

“it doesn’t matter,” luke insists. “my point is that i came back from my joke of a quest, alive and a definitely not a hero —”

“fuck what the oracle said.” you roll your eyes. “dead or alive, you are a hero, tiger.”

you move to place a hand on luke’s arm. to percy’s surprise, though, luke brushes you off.

“i’m not a hero. at least not the one my dad expects me to be.”

again, percy is taken aback by how luke snapped, at you of all people. you huff, and percy can tell that you’re a bit agitated now, too.

“okay, but that doesn’t mean —”

“my point is.” luke turns to percy, effectively blocking your presence for the time being. “you completed your quest, fought a god, and stalled kronos’ plan. you’ve been through it — all three of you have — but now you’re back. let’s just enjoy the rest of our summer, yeah? whatever happened out there, whatever the oracle said, it’s in the past.”

percy wants to believe luke, he really does. one glance in your direction, and it seems like you do, too.

deep down, though, percy isn’t entirely convinced. there’s that dread in the pit of his stomach, that voice in the back of his head. something in him, warning that this isn’t quite over. the worst has yet to come.

he wonders if — or maybe just hopes — you feel the same.

—

ii.

if you of all people can’t get luke’s attention, grover is pretty sure that the world is ending.

“luke,” you try again, foregoing your usual nickname for him. your arms are crossed and you tap your foot against the floor. it makes grover slightly anxious, feeling your frustration threaten to boil over.

“i’m busy,” he grunts, and flips over another page, scribbling something on the other side.

“grover wanted to talk to us about something.”

“i-it’s fine, we don’t have to —”

“no, it’s a good idea, grove,” you insist. you smile at grover then. he remembers that, despite the deadly glares you can deliver, like the one you were just giving luke, you have a gentle core. you just guard it behind sharp edges.

“tell him that i’ll talk to him later.”

“or, you could tell him yourself,” you huff. grover waves awkwardly, even though luke doesn’t realize what’s happening. “he’s right next to me.”

luke looks up briefly, and then back down at the pages in front of him just as quick. he looks tired, exhausted even.

“sorry, man. didn’t see you there. i gotta finish these reports.”

“no worries. i tend to be quiet on my hooves.”

in the moment of silence that follows, and with luke still not giving you the attention you’re asking for, you walk over to the desk where luke is working. what you see seems to make you even more annoyed than before.

“these reports are for september. why in the name of nemesis are you filling them out now?”

“i just want to be prepared.”

“prepared for what?”

luke hesitates. “just….the future.”

“oh!” you laugh, sharp and sarcastic. “i didn’t realize that the future required you to neglect your friends.”

“i’m trying to help my friends,” luke huffs. he taps his pen impatiently against the desk. “if you didn’t keep interrupting me —”

“oh my fucking gods — ”

grover watches the two of you argue. it had been easier to step in whenever something bubbled up between annabeth and percy, because they were just kids. but you and luke — you were adults.

when grover met luke for the first time, he was already taking on way too much responsibility for a kid — keeping thalia and annabeth alive, protecting them from monsters, taking care of them. in a lot of ways, those responsibilities didn’t go away: as a senior counselor and resident older brother, a hero for the older campers to admire and the younger kids to aspire to be. camp half-blood’s golden boy, as you liked to call him.

and, like you, luke is good at hiding. for him, its heavy burdens behind easy-going smiles.

lately, though, those smiles seem to be strained, his shoulders slowly bending under the weight of it all. the other day, grover asked you if everything was okay with luke. you had looked back at him sadly, shrugged, and said you didn’t know.

that’s when grover decided that everyone just needs a break — an escape. he had been sensing that things weren’t quite right with the others, too. percy seems a little on edge, and so does annabeth.

then, of course, there was you and luke. finding out that the two of you had actually started dating was huge news for someone like grover who had painstakingly watched the two of you dance around your feelings for years. so, it was more than a little weird that you’d barely been speaking this past week. the rare occasion you did was tense at best, and explosive at worst.

like now, when you pick up one of the reports luke was working on, and threaten to burn it. luke dares you to do so, even suggests, albeit sarcastically, that you use it as your next offering to the gods.

“oh, a handwritten document from luke castellan himself? they would love that,” you snort. “admit it: you’re doing all of mr. d’s work just to suck up to some gods who don’t even give a shit about any of this. you’re practically olympus’ lapdog.”

luke, blushing a furious shade of red, gets up and yanks the paper from your hand.

“at least my parent is important enough to actually have a seat on olympus and an actual cabin for his kids to stay in.”

you look like you could just about throw luke into a fire, and vice versa. grover had never seen the two of you like this, but it made sense: each of you knowing just where, and how, to hurt the other.

and, he thinks it’s about time to step in before the damage is irreversible. so, grover starts slowly clapping. the clapping gets faster, and he manages to get through the first few lines of the consensus song before you stop him.

“alright, alright,” you sigh. you push past luke, steal his chair, and put your feet up on the desk. luke scowls at you, but you put your hands up in surrender and jut your chin out towards grover. “just listen to what grover has to say and then we’ll let you get back to your precious reports.”

grover tells luke his idea. luke actually agrees, and grover can’t help but feel a little bit of a victory.

he’s a protector, after all. it’s his job to make sure you’re all alive and happy and thriving. and not burnt to a crisp over some petty argument.

—

iii.

annabeth had missed home when she was away on their quest, but being back and seeing everyone being taught to worship the gods without question, to believe that the only things that matter are power and glory….well, after everything that happened, after percy, annabeth can’t just go back to doing the same. at least not entirely.

all this to say, she was totally on board with grover’s idea: the five of you, renting a cabin in montauk to get away from camp for a bit.

unfortunately, the trip starts off less than ideally. you and luke bicker the entire way here — and not the playful jabs you usually throw at each other.

annabeth remembers the first time she saw you together. it was during breakfast, their first morning at camp half-blood. annabeth had spent the night trying not to cry over thalia, and already missing luke even though he was only a few cabins away. she was still a kid, surrounded by strangers, told that she was safe now, but didn’t quite believe it yet. one look to luke at the hermes table, and annabeth could tell he felt the same way, too — not quite settled in this new place that was supposed to be home, and with these people who were supposed to be family.

she watched as the hermes table went to burn offerings to the gods. when they sat down again, luke looked even more unsettled than before.

but then, you leaned in and whispered something in luke’s ear, and he actually laughed, just a bit, which was a nice change of pace. luke was always the one making annabeth and thalia laugh when they were running from monsters, always the one trying to keep everything together with a smile or a joke.

as she devoured her breakfast, annabeth couldn’t help but keep glancing at the two of you. she heard warnings from her half-siblings, about your mother being the goddess of revenge, and you living up to that name.

luke either didn't know, or didn't care about whatever reputation you had. sitting there, next to you, annabeth didn’t think she’d ever seen luke so, genuinely happy, so at ease.

all these years later, neither you nor luke seemed particularly happy. you’re obviously avoiding each other, and annabeth doesn’t understand why.

you and luke are a new puzzle that she can’t wait to solve.

annabeth had finished constructing the most elaborate sandcastle in history, just for percy to accidentally splash it when he was trying to surf a wave; so she decides that playtime is over. it’s time to figure out what exactly is going on between you and luke.

luke is in the cabin doing gods know what. you're on the deck painting your nails, so annabeth decides to start gathering information from you, first.

“hey." you finish painting your pinky a dark purple, and set the bottle down next to you. "having fun?”

annabeth nods once and sits next to you. she asks if you could paint her nails, and you pull out a bottle of silver polish you said you thought she might like.

as you work, careful with each stroke of polish, annabeth surveys the tattoos on your skin. you’re wearing a bikini top, so there are some that she’s seeing for the first time. there's one of a knife on your sternum, and annabeth distinctly remembers seeing a similar one peeking from underneath the collar of luke’s shirt. she wonders when you got it, if you had to travel to a tattoo parlour in the city, how many other adventures you'd gone on without having to consult the oracle beforehand.

maybe that’s a good place to start.

“have you ever thought about leaving camp? like, long term?"

"sometimes," you admit. "it would be nice to have some normal early-twenties experiences."

"would you go to school?"

you smile as you keep painting annabeth’s nails. “maybe. i might have seen legally blonde too many times, but i think about law school sometimes.”

“what about luke?”

your smile fades at the question. “i...i don’t know." your once precise nail-painting falters, and you mumble a curse when a drop of silver lands on annabeth's skin. you swipe it away before continuing. "luke's one of those people i can't really see away from camp half-blood for too long; pretty sure it would burn down without him. there's a reason he feels responsible for everyone there...in a way i respect, obviously, but, it's not the same for me. nobody needs me."

"luke needs you."

you sigh, and annabeth wonders if you even realize how you shake your head slightly. she thinks you're about to disagree with her, but instead you ask:

“what's this about, annie? are you thinking about your dad’s offer?”

and annabeth’s completely thrown off her line of inquiry.

“how did you —”

“perce told me that you’ve been talking about staying with him for the year,” you explain. you gesture at annabeth to give you her other hand, and she complies. the silver polish on the hand you just finished glitters in the sun.

“well, nothing’s confirmed.”

you look up at annabeth, one eyebrow raised. “it's okay, you know — if you just wanna….be a kid for a bit.”

annabeth is silent, prompting you to ask another question.

"what's holding you back?"

“well….at first, i thought it would be a definite no,” annabeth admits. “obviously, it didn’t work out last time. i don’t know if i want to risk it again — if i can trust him, you know? how do i know he actually cares — that he’ll be there for me when i need him?”

“you don’t.” you pause for a second. “but i’m gonna tell you a story that i think might help.”

you're done painting her nails, so you put everything away. you sit cross-legged next to annabeth, looking out at the ocean.

“my dad never wanted me to go to camp. he wanted to raise me in the city, just like he’d grown up. he’d take me to rock concerts all the time. i was so young, he’d make me wear earmuffs and carry me on his shoulders so that i could still see the band.” you smile softly at the memory. “and then….my dad got sick, he couldn’t take care of me, and monsters started to show up, so he brought me to camp for safe keeping."

"you've told me all this," annabeth remarks.

you start fiddling with your camp necklace. annabeth isn't used to seeing you so unsure, so nervous; it throws her off even more.

"what i haven't told you is that even when my dad got better, he….he didn’t give me a choice of where to stay.”

"oh," is all annabeth can say.

“yeah, oh," you scoff, but there’s not really any malice behind it. you seem…sad. defeated, almost. your fingers move to play with the hem of your shorts, which causes the fresh nail polish to smudge. you don’t seem too concerned about that at the moment, though. "i told everyone that i chose to stay. the truth is that i stayed because my dad didn't want me anymore. he said that the universe gave him a second chance, so he wanted to live his life without having to worry about monster attacks or taking care of his teenage daughter."

annabeth wonders if luke knows the truth about this; though, considering how difficult it seems for you to admit, she doubts it.

before, annabeth had a theory that you decided to stay at camp because of luke.

luke was away when you got the news that your dad was in remission. annabeth remembers how happy you were, how excited you were to be back in the city and living with your dad again. you started packing right away.

when luke came back from his failed quest, you had just gone into the city the day before, having promised to visit in the summer and stay in touch. someone – chris maybe, or beckendorf — must have called you, told you what happened, because you came back to camp right away, your bag still fully packed. you never left again.

"that sucks."

“yeah.” you let out a hollow, breathy laugh. “and, i was angry at first. of course i was. but now, i don’t know. i think that maybe my dad does care about me. like, he still sends me mixtapes with old punk rock songs he thinks i’d like. he actually calls me on my birthday, and we have a 3 minute conversation about nothing important."

"right…" annabeth furrows her brows. this conversation had definitely not gone as planned. "no offense, but what's —"

"i'm getting to the point," you tell her, bumping your shoulder against hers. "i realized that sometimes people can only love us in a way that works for them — and it sucks. it really, really sucks. but then sometimes…. sometimes people do actually try. and, i don’t know, it seems like maybe your dad is willing to try.”

“so you think i should take him up on his offer.”

the sun starts to set. you get up, brush sand off your legs.

“i think it's time for a swim. i also think that you’re smart enough to know what’s best for you, and who deserves a second chance. just know that whatever you decide — we’ll be there for you.”

you leave without another word, but with the return of your usual confident smile, off to the shore to take advantage of the last bits of daylight.

"she's right, annabeth." luke appears a few seconds later, takes the spot next to annabeth you had just occupied.

annabeth hums.

"how much of that did you hear?"

luke doesn't answer. he just stares at your form, disappearing in the distance and diving under the waves.

—

iv.

you clear your throat and luke turns around to see you freshly showered. you’re wearing a pair of shorts and one of the oversized band tees the two of you constantly exchange. you've lost track of whose is whose at this point.

luke resists the urge to shamelessly check out your legs, and turns his back towards you once again. that bikini top you were wearing earlier was bad enough. thankfully, the heat from the stove was enough to cover up his blushing cheeks at the sight of your exposed skin.

“i thought we were ordering pizza,” you say, moving to peer over his shoulder, chin hovering just above. luke had the sense that you were avoiding physical contact, and as much as it drives him crazy, he knows that he’s the one who’d dug his own grave. pushing you away and whatnot.

“didn’t know that you knew how to cook.”

“not much,” luke shrugs. he keeps stirring the vegetables — broccoli and carrots and baby corn. he’ll add the red peppers once the broccoli turns green so that they don’t become too soft. he’s pretty sure that’s how he remembers it going.

“i could have helped you.” you reach over and hand him the peppers right on time. you shift to lean your back against the counter next to the stove, arms crossed over your chest and eyes following luke.

luke throws in the chicken he cooked earlier, and then the sauce he had also mixed. he waits a few seconds, lets the sound of everything sizzling fill the space between you.

“it’s an easy recipe.” luke turns off the stove to punctuate his point.

and it had to be. something quick he’d make with his mom after she had one of her episodes, before waking up and realizing that she had a son to feed. the sounds, the colors, the smells — it all, overwhelmingly, reminds him of a childhood he once had. one that was never as simple as the food he just made.

none of the bitterness in his throat is caused by his mom, of course. just his father who calls himself a god, and left them both alone to fend for themselves.

you start getting out plates from the cupboards as you ask: “where are the kids?”

luke checks the pot on the stove to see if the rice is cooked. “told them to go rent something from the video store.”

“they went alone?”

“they’ve literally been to hell and back,” he replies and sits down at the table. “i think they can handle a blockbuster.”

“i don’t care if they get attacked by monsters,” you state, setting down the last plate in front of him. “i know they can handle themselves. they just better choose a good movie.”

luke doesn’t mean to snort, but he can’t help but remember all the arguments you’d gotten in with chris over your tastes in movies.

“don’t laugh, castellan. i’ve saved movie night on more than one occasion and i’ve never gotten so much as a thank you.” you roll your eyes, but luke notices the ghost of a smile.

it fades just as quickly as it appeared, and luke already misses the small moment of levity that’s passed.

“what’s been going on with you, tiger?”

you hold his gaze, and luke knows that you’re hoping for a real answer, for the truth he can’t give you.

“nothing,” he answers instinctively.

“don’t give me that,” you sigh and turn away from him, returning to your position against the counter.

“i said it’s nothing,” luke insists, a bit more assertively. “why can’t you just believe me?”

“because you’ve been distant, moody.” your tone is sharper now, too. “you’ve been avoiding me. you’ve barely been eating. the side of your bunk has been empty, which means you haven’t been sleeping, either. gods, i can’t even remember the last time you kissed me —”

“you’re really mad at me because we haven’t fucked?”

it’s a low blow, and he delivers it as if he hadn’t missed seeing you underneath him. or on top, or beside. luke isn’t picky.

“you’re impossible!” you groan, and cover your face with your hands. you take a deep breath before returning to glare at luke. “do….do you not want to be together, anymore? because if that’s what’s happening, i’ll survive. we can go back to being friends.” you clench your jaw to make up for the tremble behind your question. always a tough face, even in the face of potential heartbreak.

of course, luke knows you’ll be fine without him. he’s the one who might have difficulty surviving when you part ways.

“that’s not —” luke sighs and runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “that’s not it.”

“then what is it?”

“noth—”

“i will send you to elysium if you tell me it’s nothing one more time, because i know it’s not!” you’re shouting now. “i might not know what it is, but i know you well enough to tell that something is bothering you. so i’m asking you, one more time, what is going on?”

the thing is, luke can’t tell you — about what he’s done, about who he’s aligned himself with. he can’t lie to you, either, at least not to save his life.

so, he’s basically stuck in whatever the greek mythology version of limbo is.

for now, he’s saved by percy, annabeth, and grover, who walk in with a stack of DVDs and armfuls of movie snacks.

dinner is fine, especially with the kids providing a good enough buffer. luke even catches you smiling and laughing along with them a few times. you approve of their choice in movies, starting with mulan. it’s one of luke’s favorites, too, but he can’t help but let his attention wander.

the two of you have known each other for a long time. luke has felt your anger. he’s felt your frustration. you’ve been on opposing sides of explosive arguments, of brutal sparring matches.

but, despite everything, luke’s never been hated by you. it’s unavoidable, given what he’s done and the path he’s on; it's just not something he's particularly eager to feel.

working for kronos….luke won't pretend he regrets it. something had to be done, to take back the poisonous world the gods created.

he did it for you, even if you won't understand.

he'd do anything for you.

so, for now, he’s willing to endure the daggers you stare at him from the other side of the couch.

—

in another life, you might have taken advantage of the queen bed and private room. both hard to come by at camp half-blood, if you’re not willing to risk zeus’ wrath for the latter.

gods, it feels like forever since you and luke snuck into cabin one because couldn’t keep your hands off each other, curses and lighting strikes be damned.

you almost wish lightning would strike — at least then the bed would be warm.

“i can feel you being mad at me,” luke whispers.

“sorry, thought you’d already be gone by now,” you respond, sarcasm dripping through your words. “off to see whoever else you’d rather sleep with.”

“so, you are mad because we haven’t fucked in a while.”

a stupid slip of the tongue. you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and your entire body feels on fire for giving him any leverage on you. that was definitely not the warmth you were hoping for.

“whatever,” you mumble, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, your back still towards luke.

for the record, you’re mad because of whatever distance luke was forcing between you, or whatever wall he was putting up, for a reason you don’t understand. you’d always known luke well, but lately you haven’t been able to read him.

and, sure. maybe you are…. frustrated. the two of you hadn’t been intimate in a while, yes, and your fingers are nothing compared to luke’s, but more than that: you just miss actually feeling him close to you. in any sense.

you’re not sure how much time passes, and there’s nothing but silence. then, you hear his voice again, gentler than before, no cocky attitude laced through.

“you never told me about your dad.”

ugh. of course, luke had overheard your conversation with annabeth earlier. damn those sly hermes’ genes.

you stay silent to give off the illusion that you’d fallen asleep, but luke doesn't fall for it.

“we’ve shared a bunk for years, karma. i can tell when you’re not sleeping.”

you pause for a few more seconds, but you know that luke is persistent.

“it didn’t matter,” is all you offer before he asks again.

“it did,” luke insists. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s not like we tell each other everything,” you scoff. “like, why didn’t you tell me about that prophecy? and why won’t you tell me whatever’s going on with you now?”

“that’s….that’s different.”

“not really. i bet that it’s all for the same reason.”

“which is?”

you debate telling luke the truth.

it was no surprise that you had a certain reputation around camp: cunning, hot-tempered, brash. you were fine being the angry girl whose mother wasn’t enough of a god to warrant a cabin, but enough of a threat to be wary of. you didn’t want to be the one who was also dropped by her father, unwanted and too much of a burden. so, you swallowed the reality of the situation; pretended that nothing broke your heart, and that nothing ever would.

“i didn’t want you to look at me differently,” you admit.

another pause, this time from the other side of the bed.

“if it makes you feel better, i was glad that you stayed.”

you can’t help it; you let out a sardonic laugh.

“that’s not much of a comfort, since you haven’t seemed very thrilled with me lately.”

“that’s not….” luke falters. “i just mean that i don't know who i’d be if you left.”

in spite of the situation, the ongoing tension between you, you find yourself smiling.

“always so dramatic,” you tease.

deep down, you know you’re not much better.

luke was part of the reason you might have stayed at camp, anyways. he was the reason why you didn’t fight harder to get back to your old life, and you always did like a good fight.

it was scary though, that one person had so much power over you and didn’t even know it. you tried to convince yourself that you stayed because luke had needed you, after his quest and everything. but, once you’d known how it felt to have luke in your life, you didn’t want to go back to a time you didn’t.

truthfully, it still scares you.

“i don’t like fighting with you,” you admit softly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “especially when i don’t even know why we’re fighting in the first place.”

you wonder if you’d just thought that instead of saying it out loud because luke doesn’t respond, until you hear the sheets behind you shuffle, and feel luke position himself behind you.

"i'm sorry that we're fighting. it's my fault."

he settles a tentative hand on your exposed hip, where your shirt had ridden up. luke starts to trace circles onto your skin with his thumb, the way he sometimes does when he's nervous or having a bad dream.

"i’ve just been so….in my head. i don't want you to worry about what's going on with me, okay?

"luke —"

"i have to sort it out on my own.”

"you don’t, though,” you insist. “if you just tell me what’s going on, instead of pushing me away.”

another pause. you can feel him breathing down your neck, and in turn you inhale the spicy citrus of his body wash. it’s all so excruciatingly familiar as you wait for him to say something, anything.

eventually, luke sighs, deeply, and confesses:

"it's just….we've known each other for so long, but this — us? so much of it is new. i don't want to fuck it up."

"well, congratulations," you quip. "you're one step closer to getting there."

you meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but you feel luke stiffen at your words, his grip on your hip becoming almost painfully tight as if he's worried you'll slip away.

"i'm kidding, tiger." you weave your fingers through his to loosen his hold on you, and reassure him even more that you're not going anywhere, any time soon. "for better or for worse: you’re mine, and i'm yours. no matter how much either of us might fuck it up."

luke shuffles closer, and you melt into him even more.

"do you really mean that?"

his voice is soft, surprisingly timid. you crane your neck back to look at him; luke stares at you, his gaze heavy enough to take your breath away.

“of course.”

you're so close, and you hadn't been in so long. luke's leg is somehow lodged in between your thighs, and you bite back a whimper as he brushes against you. you feel him behind you, already half-hard, and you rub your ass against him slightly, causing a groan to vibrate through his body.

neither of you have to do much to crash your lips together.

you can sense how luke’s been unraveling, from the kiss alone. his lips are chapped, rough against yours and already bleeding from the pressure; his stubble scrapes against your cheek, and you’re dizzy with anticipation, imagining how it will leave a stinging sensation on other areas of your skin when luke has his way with you later.

for now, you focus on your mouth on his: teeth clacking together, your tongue laving over the cut on luke’s bottom lip and tasting copper. luke brings a hand up to your jaw, pushing you into his mouth even more.

it’s like the first time you kissed. all consuming. messy. urgent — like you've already run out of time.

eventually, you have to pull yourself away from his grasp, your neck straining at the uncomfortable angle. luke takes the opportunity to suck bruises onto your neck while he presses his thigh harder against your cunt. he slips his other hand further underneath your shirt, cupping your breast and pinching your nipple between his fingers. instinctively, you start rutting against him.

“f-fuck,” you groan, relishing in the muscles of his naked thigh underneath you, defined and strong.

luke chuckles, and you feel his breath warm against your skin.

“you missed me that much, hm?” he taunts, encouraging you to go faster, harder. “you’re gonna cum before i even have a chance to undress you. doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“who —” your breath catches when luke’s hand settles around your throat, pulling you impossibly closer to him. you feel the outline of his abs against your lower back, and his length, hard and waiting. it’s difficult to finish your thought, but you try your best. “who says i only have to cum once?”

“that sounds like a challenge,” luke decides. “what’s our record — three? think we can beat that tonight?”

you laugh, already out of breath. “i think we can do it.”

“good girl.”

your thighs clench at the nickname, and it's one down, a few more to go.

you maneuver luke so that he lays flat on the bed, your legs on either side of his hips. your hands fumble with the edge of his shirt, and he lets you remove it without any more hassle.

it's a little ironic, really, how much you and luke hate the gods — because looking at him underneath you, you're sure that something divine must have created him, and you have to thank them for it. sharp jaw, deep scar, flushed cheeks; curls slightly askew, and skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat; that cocky smile — you'd worship luke castellan over any of the olympians.

secretly, of course, you pretty much already do.

"like what you see?" luke smirks up at you, hands firmly on your ass.

you roll your eyes to save face. "come on, tiger, like you're not seconds away from tearing through your boxers."

luke clicks his tongue, locks his calf around yours to switch your positions. you grunt as your back hits the mattress, but you very much appreciate the force and weight of luke above you. he practically rips off your shirt, then starts to nip and suck down your body. he kisses the fabric still covering your cunt, and you can feel his chuckle vibrate through your body when he encounters the wetness there.

"i'm not the one who already ruined their underwear," luke teases as he finishes undressing you. he pauses at the sight of you, bottom half completely exposed. you're about to tell him to hurry the fuck up, but then luke spits onto your already soaked cunt and says:

“i need to clean you up, baby.” he gives you another cheeky grin, teeth glowing like the cheshire cat, before diving in.

luke is skilled at everything he does, so of course he's quick to unravel you once more, this time with a persistent combination of tongue and teeth, lapping at your cunt like it's his last meal.

as soon as you're done riding out your high, you yank luke by the leather cord around his neck to collide your lips with his again.

you reach down to return the favor, snake your hand underneath the fabric of his underwear, and you're deeply satisfied to find him already sticky with his release.

“you already finished,” you tease, stroking his v-line. "and ruined your underwear without me even touching you."

in the dim light of the moon, you can barely make out luke blushing. he hides his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“guess we’re both desperate, huh.” luke’s teeth graze your skin, his curls tickling your neck. “i need to be inside you, now, so how about you get on your hands and knees for me? i’ll get the condom.”

sometimes, luke tries to be gentle — but not this time.

this time, he fucks you, hard and fast and deep.

you love it, even if you might not be able to walk properly tomorrow.

with so much power behind each thrust, and the overwhelming pleasure, your arms threaten to give out, but luke catches you before you fall. he wraps a hand around your neck, bringing you flush against his chest as he continues to plunge his length into you.

"listen to me," luke growls. he snakes a hand down to rub harsh circles on your clit. "the one thing the gods did right is make this perfect, tight little pussy of yours. you were fucking made for me, weren't you?"

all you can do is whimper, closing your eyes at his filthy, sinful words.

you aren't used to luke being so possessive, and certainly not in these past few weeks. it's making your head spin in the best way. you can feel your orgasm build in the pit of your abdomen.

"were you made for me?" luke asks again. he squeezes your neck slightly, and you gasp at the pressure. "answer me, or i'll stop."

you don’t think it’s likely he’ll stop; you’re sure he’s just as lost in the sound of your cunt squelching and the feeling of you sucking him in. but, he does slow down, only a little bit, and it's enough for you to start whining.

"y-yes, luke."

"are you mine?"

you don't answer fast enough. luke stills his hips completely and you almost burst into tears.

you moan, trying to move against him in vain. luke keeps a firm grip on you, making it hard to cause any sort of friction between your bodies.

"i'm yours," you promise.

luke plants a firm kiss behind your ear. “that’s my girl,” he whispers darkly.

satisfied, luke resumes his pace. he moves the hand around your neck to your chin, angling you accordingly so he can crash his lips onto yours.

it doesn't take long to feel the tension in your abdomen snap, wetness gushing out of you. exhausted, you collapse onto the mattress. luke slips out of you.

the next few seconds consist of you trying to bring yourself back down to reality after such a high.

luke turns you around just to face him as he hovers over you. he lodges his hand behind your ear and taps your cheek to get your attention. your eyes flutter open.

“did you just —”

the dampness between your legs, and on the sheets underneath you, is enough evidence: you just squirted.

"i….” you gulp, feeling yourself flush. “i’ve never done that before."

luke stares at your glistening cunt. you wonder if you should be embarrassed, but then he locks eyes with you. you've never seen them so dark, pupils almost fully blown, just a sliver of brown showing through.

"you’re so fucking hot."

your heart flutters.

“you’re not too bad yourself, tiger, or i wouldn’t be in this mess.” you wink at him, still trying to catch your breath. your eyes wander lower. you note luke in the current state he’s in; you realize that the scales are nowhere near balanced. “that’s three for me, and only one for you. let me taste you.”

he doesn't need to be told twice. you get on your knees once more, this time facing him as he kneels in front of you. luke rips off the condom, something to deal with later, and you take him in your mouth, cheeks hollowed and tears brimming your eyes feeling him fuck your throat. when he finishes, you swallow him whole, savoring every drop. he pulls you up for a kiss; you can still taste yourself on him, and it mixes with his new release, a combination that is more than a little intoxicating.

“fuck,” luke mumbles as he pulls away. he swipes his thumb over the corner of your mouth where some of his cum dribbled out. “i know that was intense, but would you be up for another round? "

"yeah," you reply without a second thought, reaching up to thread your fingers through his curls to ground yourself.

maybe you should thank artemis for the full moon tonight, giving you just the right amount of silver light to illuminate the sculpted curves and edges of luke's body. his skin is also littered with bruises and bites of your design, chaotic and beautiful. luke looks like a mess, just as you're sure you do.

you want more. you need more.

"we gotta go for four, remember? but...maybe we, uh…"

"....slow it down this time?" luke finishes your thought.

you nod, grateful that you and luke are on the same page. he scrambles off the bed to get another condom.

"shit. i don't have another one.”

"check my bag, too," you tell him. luke complies, but comes up short once more.

you’re sitting up against the headboard now, and luke returns to kneel in front of you.

"i can use my fingers,” luke offers. “or eat you out again —"

“or we could just do without a condom this time?” you suggest. luke raises an eyebrow at you, so you think through the possibilities out loud. "we both got tested before our first time together and haven’t been with anyone since.” you find yourself pausing for confirmation on that, and luke nods once. “i’m on birth control. obviously there’s still a risk that something happens, but maybe just this one time? you can just pull out whenever you’re ready….if you're okay with that."

luke waits, almost like he thinks you might change your mind, before finally answering:

“yeah, i’m okay with it if you are. i’ve always wanted to fuck you raw. i just didn’t think you’d be into it — and didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

you have to kiss him then. because how is it that the boy who just gave you three jaw clenching, toe curling, heart pounding orgasms be so sweet and considerate?

before you know it, you’re flat on your back, sheets slightly scratchy with stray sand. you don't care much because luke hovers above you; he presses his forehead to yours, curls falling in front of his face.

"just so you know," luke starts, just as you feel him enter you once more. "i must have been made for you, too. i'm just as much yours as you are mine."

you smirk, bite your lip to keep from moaning so that you can keep up the arrogance, just a bit longer.

"always so dramatic," you mock, as if your cunt isn’t squeezing around him at his sweet nothings.

luke grins at you sheepishly, his cheeks flushed.

"guess that means the gods did two things right," you joke, exhaling when you feel luke brush against that gummy spot deep within you. "maybe we've taken them for granted. maybe we should - " he hits that spot again, and your breath hitches. you dig your nails into his shoulders as he rocks back and forth. “maybe we should thank them.”

luke clicks his tongue, grips your hip firmly. "not a chance, sweetheart. the gods’ll get what they deserve."

you don’t care enough to ask luke what he means. you care more about him going faster. you’re about to tell him to do so, and to throw your legs over his shoulders, but he does it himself before you get the chance. you feel him slipping deeper within you, the force and passion behind each movement, his body molding to every curve and crevice of yours.

made for each other.

you’re so sensitive that your orgasm approaches quickly. as he helps you ride it out, his thrusts get sloppier, and you know he’s almost reached his peak, too.

“fuck,” he grunts. “i’m close.” luke starts to pull out, but then you lock your ankles behind his neck.

“don’t,” you command.

“a-are you sure?” he looks at you, wide-eyed.

“i just want to feel you this once.”

he nods and brings you in for one more bruising kiss. he finishes inside you, warm and wet.

luke leaves once he catches his breath, and comes back with a damp towel to clean you up. he knows your body, recognizes how sensitive you are, and presses kisses on the inside of your thighs, where the same lips had made bruises before.

even completely fucked out, your mind starts to unpack everything that’s wrong in your life. like how luke has always been a little too good at pretending, with everyone else at least, and something serious must be going on if he's trying to fool you, too.

this luke with you now, the one who gently wipes his cum from between your legs after fucking you so relentlessly, is your luke. it feels like your luke is slipping right through your fingers, and you’re wracking your brain trying to figure out how this can stop before losing him completely.

wait….did luke say something about getting revenge on the gods? your mind is still a bit cloudy, but you could’ve sworn —

“are you okay?”

his question puts pause on your spiraling. he’s done cleaning you up, throws the towel on the floor and settles back on the bed, next to you. you’re close enough for the softest whisper, your limbs intertwined beneath tangled sheets.

you watch luke carefully as he waits for an answer and surveys your body, tracing his fingers over the marks he'd left underneath your jaw, across your shoulders, over your collarbones and down your stomach.

"i didn't hurt you, did i?"

“i’m okay,” you assure him. luke’s hand stops to gently rest on your cheek. your other worries are pushed to the side for the time being: for now, it's just you and luke. “do you think we could pick up a plan b pill tomorrow though, just in case? i love you, but i’m not ready to have your babies.”

luke widens his eyes like a minotaur in headlights. he drops his hand.

“you’ve never said that before.”

“that i want to have your babies?” you jest, slightly amused at how panicked luke seems.

luke blushes and clears his throat. “well, that too. i meant the whole ‘i love you’ thing, though.”

your amusement evaporates. you swear your heart stops beating momentarily.

“oh, shit.…”

you’re not quite sure what to say; you’ve felt this way for a while, truthfully.

of course you love luke. you can't remember exactly when you realized it, but you just….know.

because if what you felt for luke wasn’t love, then you were foolish to have secretly bought into what silena beauregard had been on about for years, and aphrodite herself might just be out of a job.

“i know we’re kind of in a weird place, but, yeah, i mean it. you don’t have to say it back —”

luke leans forward to kiss you. gentler this time, but just as firm. “i love you."

"you do?" your heart resumes its beating.

"of course i do. i have ever since my first morning at camp.”

“yeah right,” you chuckle in disbelief, feeling your cheeks heat up. “it’s not a competition, you know, over who loved who first.”

“karma, i’m serious,” he insists. “someone taught me to burn offerings, and with everything that happened with thalia, i obviously wasn't in the worshiping mood, but then you leaned over and whispered —"

"they like the smell of begging."

luke grins at you, and you reach up to brush your thumb against the dimple in his cheek.

"exactly. somehow, that was what i needed to hear. it was nice to know that i wasn't the only one who didn’t want to just accept things the way they were….” he loses his train of thought. luke grabs your hand in his. “i wish i had told you earlier. after all this, i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t —”

“whatever happens,” luke continues, somewhat ominously. “i love you, y/n.”

you hadn't heard luke use your real name in a while. you fall asleep, heart full with the memory of him weaving it together with those three magic words.

the next morning, you wake up — you actually sleep in, for the first time in years — and decide that if you could stay here forever, you would.

the morning sun stings your eyes through the sheer curtains. the sticky heat of summer sits heavy in the room, and stray grains of sand tickle your skin underneath the sheets. waves wash gently on the shore outside, and an ocean breeze mixes with the smell of burnt cinnamon. you can hear annabeth, grover, and percy crashing dishes and bickering and causing chaos in the kitchen as, you imagine, they scramble to surprise you with breakfast.

luke is next to you, on his stomach. his curls are a mess, covering most of his face.

evidence from last night: scratches from your nails prominent on his back, his neck decorated with purple bruises in the shape of your lips. you shift slightly and feel a dull ache between your legs, so you'd call it even.

outside, something clatters on the floor, and you hear percy swear.

luke's eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, and he starts to move. "we should get up before they burn down the place."

you press your hand to luke's shoulder blade, barely, but in his half-asleep state, it's enough to keep him in bed. luke moves to his side, facing you. you bring your hand up to brush curls away from luke's eyes, even if they're still closed.

"they've literally been to hell and back," you recall his sarcastic words from last night. "i think they can handle pancakes."

the corners of luke's mouth curl upwards.

"you're such a smart ass," he mumbles.

you lean forward, plant a kiss underneath luke's chin. his stubble scratches against your lips.

"don't pretend you don't love it, tiger."

luke breathes steadily. you think he might've fallen asleep once more until he presses his lips to your forehead, pulls you towards him, and quips:

"i love you."

your heart quickens as you echo his words. something churns in your stomach, too.

because this peace isn't something that feels permanent.

you're the children of gods, and there's always a catch. some inevitable plot twist where lovers end up separated, where heroes end up dead or cursed.

it's nauseating — dangerous, even — that you want a happy ending, a desire buried in you deeply like a knife to the gut. it's cruel that the fates keep twisting, taunting you with what can never be.

no monsters; no gods or titans; no prophecies.

just this.

#the way this became a whole chapter....i've got wayyy too much to say i guess #i really wanted to incorporate the trio into this series a bit more and how others see luke + karma's relationship #also i forget who said it but smut as a character study....yeah <3 #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x nemesis!reader #luke castellan x you #pjo fanfic #pjo #luke castellan fanfic #saf writes

444 notes · View notes

churipu · 5 months

Note

Hi! ☺️ First and foremost, I hope you're doing well. Also, I just recently found your page and I love your writing!

I really liked your post on the super sensitive reader with the jjk men. Can I get headcanons of the jjk men with reader who is very stoic and a little emotionally constipated? Like they have never seen reader cry ever while in their relationship together, but then reader ends up having a hard week and ends up crying from frustration.

jjk men & their emotionally constipated partner

featuring. shiu kong, itadori yuuji, todo aoi, geto suguru x reader

warnings. cursing and jjk men being sweet and soft to their partner <;33

note. hi anon! i'm doing great, hbu love? thank you for liking my works, you don't know how much that means to me, i hope you have a great day! and thank you for requesting, i find this request very interesting <33 also, thank you guys for the big amount of support i've been receiving for the last two days, can you imagine i gained like 140+ followers in that matter of time? i'm going to start violently sobbing istg. anw, i hope u sexies enjoy this <33

SHIU KONG. shiu loves you a lot, even if you struggle in showing the love back to him, he knows you love him a lot. shiu would receive random messages (mostly a picture of something and then you tell him that it reminded you of him, probably deemed as your love language now). i feel like shiu is partly happy that you don't take things into the heart - but at times he'd be very worried about you. you never cry, you almost never get angry at him even if he did something wrong (you'd just tell him it's nothing and you weren't mad, but he sometimes think it's because you didn't want to engage yourself in arguments), and hell, he barely sees you smile at all.

shiu has heard you tell stories about your new work place, which you quote unquote as toxic. and you've been in the company for no longer than three months, but the stories about your very annoying co-worker and your boss never stops. he swore that the topic of your work place was the only thing that could get you riled up.

i feel like shiu would be the type of boyfriend who would tell you to stop working because he's financially stable enough to provide for you, but you decline telling him that you didn't want to live off of him.

shiu didn't force you to stop or quit your job though, he'd be glad to listen to you talk about your days at work.

"y/n? you're ho— darling, what happened?" he saw the solemn look on your face and realized that something must have happened (yet again) at your work place, he dropped the cigar that was lodged in between his lips and immediately approached you.

you shook your head, inhaling sharply before kicking off your shoes, "work, of course."

"is it your boss? or that same co-worker again?" shiu knew that it was either your boss or this one co-worker who doesn't seem to enjoy your presence in the office.

"both." you sat down on the couch, throwing your head back in exhaustion (you were about to cry and the only way to stop your tears from coming out was to just force it back in with your head back), "i'm getting my paycheck reduced this month."

shiu took a seat next to you, "why?"

"i was blamed for something my co-worker did, this is so unfair," your voice cracked a little and shiu pulled you into a hug, you choked out a sob, "this is so unfair," you muttered out, your pent out anger and disappointment finally seeping out in a form of tears.

"hey, shh..." he soothes you, pulling back to see your tearful eyes. he grazed over your cheek to wipe the droplets away, "let me take care of them, yeah?"

you shook your head, "don't have to, i don't want to make this into a bigger mess."

shiu planted a kiss on your forehead, "don't worry about it darling, you trust me, don't you?"

"yes."

shiu had a "talk" with your boss and your co-worker the very next day and your co-worker ended up resigning right after, and your boss, well they never bothered you anymore (and you're getting an extra paycheck for the next half a year).

ITADORI YUUJI. people always wonder how you and itadori ended up with each other. him being this ray of sunshine, and you were like the moon. but he didn't care about what everyone says, he loves you — and that's what matter, right?

wrong. don't think that you didn't notice the enormous shit talking about you behind your back, about how you probably bribed itadori into dating you and what not. usually, you'd shove all those down the drain and forget about it.

but for some reason, you couldn't help but to rethink about what they said. how itadori isn't too fit for you, or how you don't deserve him at all. the only thing that managed to trigger you was how somebody said that itadori deserves someone more "emotionally available" for him, and that person isn't you.

you never liked being emotionally constipated, people always talk about you behind your back, saying how you're so distant and that being the reason you don't have any friends. you keep telling yourself that you're used to it when it comes to you, but when it comes to itadori and your relationship — you feel helpless.

"y/n? are you okay?"

you looked up at him, a glint of worry flashing in his eyes. and you can't help but to feel the frustration building in you as you remember the words people say to you, "yes..no? i don't kno—" you choked out, smacking your hand on top of your mouth at the sound you let out.

it just got worse when you feel the tears you've been penting up for the past few weeks come out. itadori blinked feverishly, a little surprised to see you crying like this. he has never seen you cry before, "y/n..?" he breathes out, his hand reaching out to you, but you moved back, trying to avoid his touch.

the embarrassment you felt was horrid, you hated crying in front of people, even your own boyfriend, "baby," itadori mutters out seriously, grabbing your arms and then pulling them away from your face, "tell me what's wrong. talk to me."

i feel like he knew where this was going, he had a hunch. for the past few weeks, you asked him about why he was with you, why he loves you when there were better people out there (you think). and he knew it was because of what people said.

"i...i just don't think i'm the right one for you, yuuji. they're right, you need a more emotionally available partner."

itadori's face fell when you said that, and he shook his head, pulling you into his embrace. rocking back and forth like a baby, "why would you say that? why would you listen to them y/n?" he asks quietly.

"i...don't know."

he pulled away, brows furrowed and he held your shoulders, "you're perfect for me, i don't give a fuck what they said about you and i. the next time someone says something, i'm going to beat them up," the thing is, he looked so serious you couldn't help but to chuckle.

"you just chuckled.." he breathes out, "my life is complete."

TODO AOI. he's very boisterous, and i feel like he'd be the type of person who would defend his partner everywhere they go. when you accepted his feelings, he was surprised since he never expected you to like someone like him. but he was pretty damn proud of you, and as a boyfriend, he shows you off like a trophy.

telling people about how amazing you are, how you make him happy, or how you treat him nicely. but people are fucking judgmental, some of them don't like the idea of others living happily — and you never thought that "these" particular people would target you next for it.

saying how fucking weird todo is for liking someone like you, and you had to be honest, it did get into you. and so began your avoidance to your own boyfriend, todo.

he hates it. he hated how you changed out of the blue, no matter how hard he tries to reach out for you, you weren't the same anymore and he never got why you decided to change.

believe me when i say that he tried asking his friends about it, or about tips to get you to talk to him. but really, they weren't much of a help, saying how you probably got bored and is avoiding him so he would be the one to break up first with you.

todo didn't want to let the idea of that get into him, but after a few weeks of you avoiding him non-stop, he began thinking the same thing. were you bored of him? did he do something that you didn't like? or is it because he ate the last chocolate chip cookie you were saving up and blamed it on someone else?

so when he got the chance to bump into you, he immediately took it as a chance to ask you about it.

"why are you avoiding me?" you tried ending the conversation right away by going the other way, but man is fast fast so he didn't let you — still wanting to know about the sudden change in your behavior.

todo knows how you didn't like being cornered, or how you don't like talking about the relationship, sappy shit. but if he didn't talk to you about this, todo knew he was going to regret it.

"y/n," he grabbed the back of your collar, pulling you back lightly, "did i do something wrong?"

you were silent for a few seconds before todo's ears perked up at the sound of soft, choked out sobs. you were crying. you were crying. and the panic sinks in, "i..i'm sorry, did i pull on your collar too hard?!" he panics, flailing his arms.

you shook your head, "...no, i'm sorry for avoiding you."

todo stopped his panicking and stood up straight, "i couldn't stop thinking about what people have to say about us, and now that i think about it, i feel like you deserve more than me," todo widened his eyes and looked around.

"who the fuck said that? i'm going to beat them up so bad people won't recognize them," todo mutters out and the corner of your lips tugged upward, "is that why you're avoiding me?"

you nod, "it was wrong. i know i should've said something about it. i'm sorry for avoiding you."

todo laid his hand on top of your head, brushing your h/c softly with a gentle smile, "you're perfect for me, fuck those people," he cusses out, "next time you hear em', don't forget to find out their names— i'm going to give them a lesson for it."

SUGURU GETO. suguru and you are like two peas in a pod. people never see him without you and vice versa, and often people would say that you both are the perfect couple. despite your personalities almost being the same type of calm, suguru is a calm man, and he's soft spoken. while you were just plain cold and stoic, rarely speak of something or even show your emotions.

someone bothering you? okay. someone making fun of you? okay. you were practically a walking definition of "i give zero fucks". but that doesn't mean you can't feel hurt, you are still human after all.

so when suguru told you about how he has a new co-worker, and how she has been clinging onto him, how she tries to get in his pants. you find it cute how he tells you about it, even telling you that you should come to his workplace so he could show you off.

you didn't feel anything because you trusted him. until you see the so called "co-worker" of his. she's pretty, you can't deny that. and you could see how she gets along with almost everyone, having no problem in instigating a conversation or complimenting people. people definitely like her.

that's where the insecurity began sinking in.

would suguru fall for her like everyone in his workplace does? would he leave you for her? so many questions you wanted to find the answer to.

"baby?"

you look at him, completely out of your daydream. he cocks his head to the side, "are you okay? you've been zoning out a lot lately..." he said, voice gentle and worried.

you nodded, "yeah. sorry. got a lot in my mind."

"do you want to talk about it?" he brushes a few h/c strands from covering your face, "you've been a little distant. is it something that i did, baby?"

god, just the thought of suguru thinking it was him made you a little sensitive. the past few weeks was already hard enough for you to contain yourself from breaking down, and him asking that made the tears you held in for so long drop out all at once.

suguru was a little taken aback and he sat straight up, alarmed, "y/n? baby? what's wrong?" he asks you gently, wiping the tears that never ceased from your face.

"i feel..i feel like i'm not enough. you deserve better than me, suguru." suguru swallowed the lump in his throat, he should've known, ever since you came to his workplace, you had started getting distant. and he should've known that was the reason.

suguru shook his head, cupping your face before giving you soft little kisses all over your face, "don't" a kiss on your forehead. "you" a kiss on your left cheek. "dare" a kiss on your right cheek. "say" a kiss on your nose. "that" a kiss on your chin.

the male gazes into your eyes deeply, "i love you," he softly said before planting a kiss on your lips, "you're the one i want, you're perfect for me. i can't see my future without you y/n, so please don't think about that..."

766 notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 1 year

Text

In the Closet

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

🚨18+ Only, MDNI, smut, oneshot, forced proximity, enemies to lovers, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (m receiving), cum shot, mention of alcohol consumption, smoking weed, semi-public sex, cum rag. Word count: 2k

You were invited to a surprise party for Steve Harrington, but so was Eddie Munson, and you really cannot stand him. But when you're forced to hide in a closet together, your resolve is tested.

A/N: I've been working on an Eddie series where the smut has not been introduced yet, and I needed to get my fix.

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

It’s 1989 and there’s a surprise birthday party for Steve at the house he shares with Robin. You were invited, but so was Eddie “the freak” Munson, and just the thought of having to be in his orbit made you want to retract your RSVP. You’d been friends with Robin a while, and every time Eddie came to visit, he always reeked of weed and cigarettes, and he insisted on calling you Princess, even though you clearly hated the nickname. He was abrupt and juvenile, and god, did he even have a job besides selling drugs? And the music he listened to? You accidentally heard a W.A.S.P. song once months ago, and you were still upset about it.

His van was one of the last cars to pull up and park behind the garage, out of sight, and you went into the other room to mingle, hoping he wouldn’t approach you but still, he caught your eye across the room, lifting a can of beer can in greeting, a cigarette pressed between his lips. “Heyyyy Princess,” he beamed, as if he was mocking the fact that you were repulsed by him.

You headed down the hallway to use the bathroom, and once you washed your hands and were on the way back, Eddie Munson was there blocking your path. He pushed off the wall, a freshly lit joint in his hand, and extended it to you.

“You look like you need to relax.” His chest rose and he kicked his chin up so that the smoke from his lips would go over your head instead of in your face, a slight cough choking in his throat.

You grimaced and made a scene of waving the skunk smoke away with your hand. “I’m plenty relaxed, thank you,” you told him, but mostly it was to convince yourself. Eddie maintained eye contact with you as he put the cherry of the joint out on his palm and slipped the joint in his front pocket of his vest, as if he had only lit it for you.

But then the music in the living room cut out and Robin hissed, “shit! He’s early! Everyone hide!”

Crap.

You could hear Steve’s keys jangling in the front door as everyone found hiding places in the living room, and kitchen, but you were stuck in the hallway with Heady Eddie, and you were about to give the whole thing away because Steve was seconds from stepping into the hallway.

“In here!” You whispered through gritted teeth at Eddie, grabbing the back of his denim battle vest as he stood with a bewildered look on his face.

You whisked him into the small closet with you, pulling the door closed with the cautious precision someone would use to disarm a bomb.

Thank god Steve and Robin had just recently moved into this new house because the tiny closet only had three hanging shirts and two jackets in it. You could feel Steve’s footsteps clap down the hall, he stopped right in front of the closet and called Robin’s name, and you held your breath. The space you were trapped in was longer than it was deep and at first you didn’t realize you were pressing your back up against Eddie, and he was starting to like it.

“How long should we---” Eddie breathed in your ear, but your nerves were on edge, and you spun around, using the palms of your hands to pin his shoulders to the back wall of the closet.

“Shut up, Munson,” you hissed. It was dark in that confined space, and you could only see the outline of each other’s faces, but your lips were barely inches apart, your legs straddling his, and then his fingers started curling at your sides, pulling you closer, and your pussy started to blossom in ways you didn’t understand.

You gasped, “oh shit…” just before your mouth crashed onto his, teeth hitting first in your urgency, and then eager tongues searching deep. His hair fell into your face and smoothed it back behind his ear, your mouth never leaving his. You didn’t know what was happening; you were possessed. “Can I touch you?” Eddie whispered, aching to put his hand between your legs. You nodded, just as your hand slid down to palm his growing cock through his denim. You untucked his shirt from his jeans so that your hands could be on the warm skin of his stomach and his chest.

Out in the living room everyone yelled, “SURPRISE!” and jumped out from their respective hiding places, blowing party horns and turning up the music, while you and Eddie made frantic work of undoing each others belts, hands sliding down to fondle each other. Your pussy fluttered as his thick fingers curled in, bypassing your underwear to sink deep and then he moaned against your mouth, “you’re already so wet for me.”

“Shhhhh,” you said against his lips, but then you both giggled, caught off guard by the ridiculousness of it all. Eddie removed his hand from down your pants, wondering if maybe this was the cue to pull yourselves together and head out.

But you dropped to your knees, lifting up his shirt to kiss his salty stomach as you went, feeling your way around, along the map of his hair arrow, drifting down to darker waters. Eddie made a small mew sound in the back of his throat, throwing his head back with disbelief.

“Can I?” You perched there in a squat, waiting to know if he was just as caught up in the moment as you were.

“Um, yeah? Yesyesyes. You can have whatever you want, ghaaa,” he hissed, placing his hand on the top of your head so that he knew your location, feeling safer to speak as the party in the living room got louder.

You were fumbling around in such close proximity, that when you pulled Eddie’s boxers down the rest of the way, his unnervingly huge, curved cock sprang out and caught you in the face, juicing pre-cum onto your cheek.

“Sorry!” Eddie said, but then he couldn’t think about anything anymore because your soft lips were on the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking the underside ridge, your wet mouth taking him deep and making him shiver.

Eddie cursed himself for forgetting to jerk off that morning, because he was about to give you a bad impression. “I—I---do you want me to cum like that?”

You weren’t sure why, but the fact that he was already close after only minutes in the closet with you made a smile float your cheeks up, but then you were up on straight legs again, kissing him, thinking God, how could kissing Eddie Munson feel this good? His tongue was greedy and sweet and he made soft noises of pleasure when you did things that he liked. You slid your hands up over his shoulders to help him remove his jacket, and he threw it in the corner, his fingers quickly returning to arch up deep inside of you, metal rings clicking together, making you press your open mouth to his neck so that you wouldn’t cry out loud in pleasure.

Out in the rest of the house, alcohol was flowing, and all of the attention was on Steve, but a few people, especially Robin, did look around, wondering where the two of you got off to. She recalled seeing Eddie procure a freshly rolled joint as he sauntered around the corner, and she assumed the two of you were getting high somewhere. She’d never known you to do any recreational drugs before, but there was a first time for everything, and Eddie was a pretty persuasive guy.

“Inside me?” you begged against Eddie’s mouth, pushing your pants down further and pressing up against the clothing at the other end of the space, bracing on your forearms.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Eddie muttered, mostly to himself, elated, holding onto your bare hips to line up with you. He ran the head of his cock down through your swollen lips, juicy and ready for him; oh god, you were so ready. He could smell the sweet tang of your arousal as it dripped down your inner thigh and you pushed your hips back to meet him, eagerly, his tip sinking in.

“Ohmygodohmygod...this is…you feel like heaven,” Eddie murmured on the wings of a sharp intake of breath, taking his time to enjoy the sensation of stretching you out, his feet planted on either side of your yours to secure you. He noticed you bring your hand down to swipe at your clit, and he sunk in all the way, aching for it as much as you were.

Soon, his hips were sawing, wet skin slapping as your two bodies connected, and you arched your head back as he buried himself deep inside, whimpering every so often and pausing suddenly as he tried not to cum too soon.

But, you were close now, working your hand between your legs, feeling the release mounting.

“EddieEddieEddie...I’m about to….” and then it happened, and the coil snapped. You trembled as your eyes rolled back, coating his cock with your cum, knees weak at the wave that overtook you. The gravity of the sneaky, impossible situation sinking you deeper into orgasm; white hot whips of a damn good, balls deep dick-down.

Eddie cursed, edging on the grip of a release that could possibly blow a hole through you, so he had to pull out with a broken cry, already missing you as his fist pumped ropes of cum onto your backside, twitching, “you feel too good baby girl.”

You felt some land as far up as your bra strap, your shirt pulled up around your neck, and he kept pumping, mining the mother load of sweet seed across your flesh. He braced his hand on the wall, his shoulders heaving, and then he patted your butt with a few tender taps, his throat dry, “goddamn, that was hot.”

The two of you didn’t exchange many words as you got dressed, but Eddie had a plain white undershirt on beneath his Metallica t-shirt, and so he used that to clean you up and wipe the cum off your back. You didn’t ask him to, he just started doing it, and you waited for him to finish, “I think I got it all,” he said, and then you pulled your pants up the rest of the way.

You were both beet red in the face when you finally opened the closet door, from exertion and from the dank stuffiness of the confined space. You went out first, and the plan was for Eddie to stay in the closet a few minutes longer, take the cum shirt back to his van, and then rejoin the party so that it wouldn’t look suspicious---so that no one would know what happened between the two of you.

You fixed your hair in the hallway and straightened your shoulders, ready to face the crowd, and deal with the apologies for disappearing on everyone like that. You took a few steps, and then your mind went to Eddie waiting in that hot closet, counting down, doing exactly what you told him to do, which was basically to save you the humiliation of letting people know you’d been with him. It had to be this way; a lot of your friends were at that party. People you knew from work and old classmates from high school who knew you as the Homecoming Princess. You couldn’t let them see you like this, with him.

You went to the end of the hallway, got Robin’s attention, and waved at her to let her know you were alive, and then made the decision to go back and wait for Eddie.

He was shocked to see you when he finally came out. His eyebrows pinched together, the cum shirt balled up in his hand. “What are are you doing here? I thought we--”

But then you stepped forward and kissed him, on the lips, gently, and took hold of his free hand, the one with all the big, metal rings, intertwining your fingers with his.

“We’ll go together,” you told him, catching the way his throat jerked at the sentiment, his eyes sparkling.

“Yeah?” He asked, unsure, squeezing your hand.

“Yeah.” You said, with the deepest sincerity.

#eddiemunson #eddiemunsononeshot #eddie munson smut #stranger things eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female character #oneshot #stranger things smut #forced proximity #enimies to lovers

876 notes · View notes

heartofwritiing · 3 months

Note

could you write wilbur soot confessing his love to a crush? 👉👈

something about how he's been pinning after this crush for so long, but the crush seems a bit avoidant or something

but that's because the crush also has a crush on him and is very very shy qpwimsmanssjslslek sorry im not good with requests

You and me need never be, lonely again.

Paring: cc!wilbur soot x fem!cc!reader

authors note: Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you don't mind the reader being a content creator and i’m sorry she’s not super shy because im not really sure how to write shy lol but i hope you like the request! I just thought it would add to the idea and I've wanted to do something similar to this for a while! This is a request back from august. I am so sorry this took me so long to get out. I've been going through some shit irl but I'm finally starting to come back to writing because I genuinely love it and posting on here since it is my safe space!

line from this prompt list

warnings: friends-lovers, reader lives in the US, brief description of anxiety, the reader sends mixed signals, swearing, kinda angsty, happy end, super unedited!

"No! That was such bullshit!"

The voice of Tommyinnit ran through the speakers of your computer causing you to let out a chuckle that you were the reason for his outburst.

You were playing Gang Beasts on stream with some of your closest friends, and you had grabbed Tommy's character and thrown him off the map by picking him up.

Laughter rang out amongst the group as the screen card popped up saying your username won. You cheered as everyone groaned but dispersed into 'ggs' then that's when everyone started to bid goodnight. You hadn't realized it had been four hours of streaming and playing games, showing the good time you were having with friends.

"Alright chat, that's gonna be it for me today! Please remember to click the follow button if you're new to stream that way you'll know when I go live! byeee!" You did your outro, quickly closed your stream down, and logged out of Twitch.

It was an uneventful stream session, thank god. You’ve noticed more and more how your chat gets when you even mention wilburs name.

“you logging off completely y/n/n?” Ranboos voices asks through your earbuds.

“No, I’ll play a few more rounds if you guys are down,” you respond.

“HELL YEAH!” Tommy boasted. “IM GONNA KICK YOUR ASS THIS TIME Y/N/N!”

“Oh, it’s on gremlin child!” you replied.

Wilbur listened to this conversation on his end, letting out a chuckle. He honestly doesn’t know why you make him laugh so easily. Anytime you threw a genius comment toward Tommy that was deemed insulting, or calling him a name Wilbur fell for you more and more. If only he had the guts to tell you.

You as well wouldn’t admit it but every time Wilbur laughed all you could feel was butterflies punching your stomach and a smile that made your cheeks hurt. You were also falling hard for him.

After about another fifteen minutes, Tommy and Ranboo had bid their goodbyes for the night and ended their calls. You were left in call with Wilbur, the silence could be cut with a knife.

Knowing him for two years was hard. Wilbur was everything to you. He was funny, smart, charming, and overall made you feel comfortable. Something you thought you’d never have with anyone. Having to only talk on call and video made things easier for you. On call you could hide your blushes and smiles from him, but not from your chat who caught every interaction between you and Wilbur when you streamed. The constant ’Wilbur x name confirmed?’ tweets and comments in your twitch chat were recently repetitive and you wondered when you became such a beacon of attention. It gave you such anxiety to have all eyes on you when you wanted to spend time with your best friend.

It was getting obnoxious to the point where you debated making a tweet to get the fans to stop shipping you both, even if you were dating it was no one’s business. Still you never dared to say anything out of fear of stans coming at you in anyway. You didn’t need to draw more unwanted attention to yourself.

“You logging off? it’s getting pretty late for you,” you spoke up.

“Yeah, we both should, by the way what times your flight tomorrow?”

Right, you were flying less than eight hours from now to finally meet your friends inperson. You all had planned this for months, booking hotels and flights, making a whole deal about it. Then you really wouldn’t be able to hide from him for a whole week.

“Around seven-thirty,” you reply.

He hums.

“I’ll let you get some rest, see you tomorrow night darling,” his voice purposely going lower on the ‘darling’ part that you almost didn’t catch it, making your knees go weak.

“N-night Will,” you stutter, end call and slump back into your desk chair trying to calm your racing heart. Meanwhile Wilbur all the way across the ocean in Brighton has a smile plastered across his lips.

About a plane ride, a train ride and car ride later, you are stood in the hotel lobby in Brighton waiting for a late Tommy and Wilbur to arrive. You were super nervous to meet them. Having only been friends for what was a short time, it felt like you knew them for years, so why was this so scary?

You debated in your mind about texting them to see if they were close by, but you didn’t want to come off as annoying and impatient. You wanted to make a good first impression, but again these were your friends. Why were you shaking with nerves?

You fiddled with your thumb’s absentmindedly until you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders, causing you to jump out of your skin. You spin around to be met with a cackling Tommy who is clucking his stomach from laughing so hard at your reaction.

“Fucking gremlin child,” you huffed under your breath, not realizing the evident blood rushing to your cheeks from being startled so easily.

“It’s nice to hear you say that in person,” a deep voice said from behind Tommy. You shifted your eyes to see a very tall Wilbur, who was wearing his round glasses pushed up his nose and curly hair fluffed to the side.

His dark sweater selves rolled up to revel his arms tucked into his side as he gazed at you with a soft smile. Finally after two years of being separated by seas, your best friend was standing right in front of you. It was surreal to say the least.

You laugh and jump forward to embrace him. The number of times you’d tease him over-call about his height made you regret your words. He towers over you as he bends down to your level to give you a long awaited hug. His arms are soft, yet firm as they wrap around your back and cage you into his embrace.

You both pull away, both grinning from ear to ear. He looks down at you with a hint of something behind his eyes, he seems to be genuinely happy to finally meet you in person. which makes you blush at the thought of him looking forward to this moment since you told him you wanted to come here. You're quickly brought out of your moment when Tommy speaks up behind you.

"So he gets a hug and I don't?!" his tone slightly offended.

"Yup, cause you're annoying," you bring a hand up to flick his forehead, causing him to let out a irritated noise. you had only just met him in person but something compelled you to do that. Maybe it was just a reason for you to break the ice and it was working because you all broke out into giggles.

“Im just kidding Tom,” you motion him into a hug.

Wilbur just stood observing the entire interaction between his two best friends. He was thrilled to finally have you here, he couldn't wait to show you all his favorite places, hang out, and get to know better in person. Finally.

The two boys had managed to drag you to the beach, and even though it was freezing Tommy insisted on going to the arcade to try and win another 'vlog gun'. After suffering through loosing a few games, Wilbur managed to win you a little stuffed cat that you promptly named Mr Whiskers.

It was endearing to watch him struggle at most of the games so he could get enough tickets. It was all worth it in his eyes to embarrass himself by losing ski-ball to you, twice, he saw the evident blush on your cheeks and the look you gave him. As if he hung the stars in the sky just for you. It made his chest hurt in a good way.

The rest of the night went smoothly for the most part. More and more, Wilbur had been getting more touchy with you. Though you didn’t mind it at all, maybe he didn’t realize how much he was putting his hand on you as you walked side by side as he led you through crowds. How he held doors open for you. It was sweet.

Maybe he was doing it just to be nice. That small voice in the back of your head telling you thats all it was. Because thats what friends do.

Eventually, the three of you met up with Ranboo and Charlie. They were just how they were online, which made meeting them a whole lot better. Walking around Brighton, making inside jokes and teasing each other. You hadn't been this happy in a while. You can remember the last time you genuinely enjoyed yourself, your friends were the product of that. You were fortunate to have found them when you did. Quarantine was hard on you, much like the rest of the world. So when you were invited to join a group game call, you couldn't pass up the opportunity. That night, something had clicked between you and Wilburt specifically. Then you started to join more calls with the gang and the rest was history.

Sometime in the night, you found yourself walking behind with Wilbur by your side chatting about nothing in particular. Until the comfortable silence filled the air between you, you took a moment to take in the nightlife of Brighton. The street lamps guide your way through the beachside and the pubs on the corner were starting to fill up. As if the city was somehow more alive at night.

"I'm really glad you came," Wilbur speaks, sincerely.

You stop your wide-eyed gaze to look at him and smile softly at him.

"I am too," You gush. "I'm honestly considering moving here,” Now he’s smiling.

Wilbur's brain starts to go a million miles a second. His heart leaped at the thought of you living closer to him. Seeing you in person everyday seemed like a dream come true. He begins to slow his step and a frown replaces your smile. Your own thoughts running rampant now, assuming you might've freaked him out by voicing that you wanted to move here so soon after meeting him in person. Maybe it made him uncomfortable. it was too soon to say something that bold. You had only just met him in person today.

"Listen, Y/N..."

You stopped and your brain got the best of you with his tone. You shouldn't have said anything like that to him. It was too soon.

“I don’t want to sound cheesy, but I need you to know how I feel.”

Oh... OH.

You knew what this was leading to. Realizing why he was acting the way he was all day.

"I like you, more than like you. You're funny, beautiful, smart, and everything I could've hoped for in a best friend. But I can't keep pretending I don't think of you when we aren't talking, or how when I look at you my chest hurts."

Wilbur liked you. Really liked you. You would jump for joy and shout to the rooftops about how much you reciprocate his feelings but something in the back of your mind told you not to. The doubt in your mind from yourself, both your fans online judging. It made you slowly start to panic. You felt as though you weren’t good enough for him.

You saw the aftermath of when his fans shipped him and Niki together. It almost ruined their friendship. You didn’t want that.

"Please say something?" he stops his rant to notice you are staring up at him with blank eyes.

"I-uh," you stutter. "can we maybe not do this now?"

His face falls and it instantly crushes you with regret. His disappointment shows as he gives you a forced smile and nods.

"Y-yeah, let's catch up with everyone, Tommy wants to do this big stream at his place." he gestures for you to move along with him, all while you feel horrible for doing this.

You wish you could take back what you said. You know you've hurt him, It's painfully obvious when he doesn't talk to you for the rest of the walk. You glance at him a few times but he keeps his eyes forward and stoic.

If only you didn’t let your anxiety get the best of you. You had to talk to him at some point, but for now you pushed it aside. The rest of the group didn’t seem to notice the sudden tension between the two of you, if they did nothing was remarked about it.

As you continued the journey to Tommys flat, you and Wilbur still walked silently side by side. With what little courage you had, you reached out your hand and held his in a moment of truce. Giving it a gentle squeeze with your fingers to seal the deal that you would talk later. You heard his soft inhale at the contact and he squeezes back. Your shoulders drop from the weight of tension being lifted off. Maybe, just maybe this ment this conversation wasn’t over.

Back at Tommy’s, the monitor in his cramped bedroom with everyone packed together like sardines; shows the twitch chat flashing by with viewers comments.

“WELCOME BACK TO THE STREAM EVERYONE!” Tommy shouted causing you to hold your ear in slight pain.

“God Tommy, could you be anymore loud?” you wince.

“Look who’s here chat!” he gestured to you with his hands, ignoring your complaints. You waved at the webcam as chat went crazy. He introduced everyone else as they all broke out into a chorus of conversation.

Wilbur was mostly quiet on your left, an occasional sarcastic comment made here and there. You could practically feel his eyes buring into the side of your head. Hopping chat wasn’t noticing how he was looking at you, your eyes shifting to your lap to fidget with your fingers.

Out of view, Wilbur reached over and took your hand picking at the skin around your nails. You had stopped your nervous tick and opted for squeezing his hand. Nobody seemed to notice the sudden shift in both your behavior.

Suddenly you felt tense, the feeling of having everyone’s eyes on you made your mind start to spiral.

Letting go of Wilburs hand, you quickly had excused yourself and walked out of Tommys room and into the kitchen.

Everyone had a mix of concerned and worried expressions as they watched you leave the room but didn’t say anything about it. Wilbur had followed you in pursuit. He found you in the kitchen hyperventilating Your panic had taken over and now your lungs were paying the price for the burning sensation from not breathing.

“it's okay,” he took your face into his hands and held you. “just follow my breaths.

he took a breath in, and you followed.

When you came to your senses, Wilbur had asked you what was wrong and you just began to cry. Everything came rushing down on you.

“Im sorry. I-Im sorry I shot you down earlier, Im sorry for h-hurting you. I-i,” you stuttered over yourself. Wilbur shakes his head at you. He probably thinks you’re such a mess.

“I don’t understand, I know you like me too, so I don’t understand why you rejected me after I poured my heart out to you. Then you go and hold my hand while we're walking.'

Wilbur was right. Playing with his feelings was selfish and cruel. He was completely in the right to question you. You were practically flirting with one another all day, and then you shut down his advances of trying to open your relationship.

“I do wanna be with you.” you sniff. “I'm just really scared.”

"Why darling? It's just me, your silly old Wil." he pokes at your sides causing you to let out a giggle. Your best friend, who looked at you with the prettiest chocolate eyes, who stayed on call with you all night when you couldn't sleep. The only person you told your deepest fears and dreams to.

You take a shaky inhale as you begin to explain. "I don't wanna ruin our friendship, we have something I've never experienced with anyone else in my life. I care about you too much to let me be a distraction in your life, and I am scared that the fans will-"

Wilbur interrupts you with a hand on your arm.

"The fans? darling who cares about that, I care way too much about you to even care about what strangers think. It's no one's business who I, or you for that matter have a relationship with." he clarified. "I love you and nothing or no one will ever change that."

Those three words made your heart leap in your throat.

"Y-you l-love me?" you stutter in disbelief.

"Yes, of course I do."

Tears roll down the apples of your cheeks as you lean forward to engulf Wilbur into another hug. His arms wrapped around your back reciprocating your embrace. your face buried in his neck as you inhale his cologne and your tears dampen his skin.

"I love you too Wil," you whisper.

He squeezes you closer to him in return and this time you don't hold yourself back...

taglist: @trashcanduck @ax-y10 @mysticalsoot @idontreallyexistyet @loonalvjy @toastyliltoasts41

#wilbur soot x reader #cc!wilbur soot x reader #fanfiction #mcyt fanfiction #wilbur soot x fem!reader #x reader #request #anon request #writing #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot fanafiction

198 notes · View notes

megalony · 7 months

Text

Don't You Dare

This is an Eddie Diaz request from Anon, it inspired me and I hope this is what you wanted. Enjoy, feedback is always great.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@butlegendsneverdie@langdonzvoid@jennyggggrrr@rogmeddows@radiob-l-a-hblah@rogertaylorsbitontheside@chlobo6@rogertaylors-lipgloss@sj-thefanthefan@omgitsearly@luckytrashgooprebel@scarsout@deaky-with-a-c@killer-queen-ofrhye@bluutac@vousmemanqueez-blog@jonesyaddiction@milanosaurus@httpfandxms@saint-hardy@7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls@mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

911 Masterlist

Summary: When (Y/n) starts to miscarry and her health deteriorates, Eddie takes her to hospital but he won't let her leave him. He can't lose her, at any cost.

Warnings: Descriptions of miscarriage.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the door opening brought (Y/n) out of her thoughts and she tilted her head back on the chair. Her eyes remained closed but she strained her ears to listen in when she felt Chris move beside her and make a beeline for the front door.

Eddie was home.

She could hear Christopher's excited squeal and the impact he made when he barelled into his dad before he managed to step one foot in the house.

"Hey bud, how was school?" Eddie leaned down and scooped Chris up in his arms, swinging him round before he turned to let his son see who he had brought home as a surprise.

"Good- uncle Buck's here!" Chris reached out a hand until Buck took the hint and grabbed his hand, grinning over at him. He had been working a lot recently and for the past two weeks he had barely gotten to see Chris, Buck thought it was about time he stopped by.

"I am, I've missed you," That was all he had to say to have Chris squirming in Eddie's hold to get down and move over to hold onto Buck instead.

"Where's your mum?" Eddie kicked off his shoes and headed in the direction of the living room when Chris idly pointed behind him, too focused on dragging Buck inside to give his dad a proper answer. He had done a night shift into this morning and finished around lunch time and Eddie couldn't pass up the chance to go out with Buck for something to eat when they had both worked up an appetite. Their night had been non-stop from the moment they walked through the station doors.

But Eddie knew Chris wouldn't long be home from school and he didn't want to stay away from home too long when he hadn't had much time with his boy this week and he knew (Y/n) hadn't been feeling too well today. And Buck couldn't pass up the opportunity to come by for tea and spend some time with his closest friends.

"Ola mi amor, how you feeling?" With a sigh and a smile that could stun even the coldest of hearts, Eddie crouched down to his knees in front of the sofa, wedging himself against the coffee table so he could be level with his wife.

She didn't look too good. Her skin was flushed and coated in a light layer of sweat, her lips were cracked and dry and she could barely keep her eyes on him when she tried tiredly to open them. Eddie reached a careful hand out and brushed the back of his hand against her temple and trailed his fingertips down the side of her face, smiling softly when her lips curved at his touch.

"Rough," (Y/n) moved her arm and brushed her thumb against Eddie's jaw, feeling a shiver rocket down her arm when he tilted his head to kiss the pad of her thumb.

Eddie folded his arms on the edge of the sofa and perched his chin up on his arm, looking up at her with a smile that creased his eyes. They both knew she looked more than rough, she looked worse for wear but he would never say such a thing and (Y/n) didn't want to admit it. He moved his hand that was closest to her and slowly dragged his fingers across her stomach, a habit that had become so automatic when she had been pregnant with Chris. A habit he had picked back up from the moment she told him she was pregnant again.

"Why don't you go lie down in bed? Me and Buck have got Chris,"

(Y/n) bit her lip before she nodded, managing a smile when he leaned across to peck her lips. She could feel Eddie moving in front of her and he carefully reached over to hold her arms and help her sit up when she tried to move.

She had been relieved when she brought Chris home and he was perfectly fine with her lying down on the sofa because she didn't feel well. He sat on the floor in front of her for the last hour and did some colouring with the tv on in the background until Eddie came home. All day (Y/n) had felt horrid and as soon as she lied down, she felt like she was melting and becoming worse. Whatever cold or sickness bug she had, it was working its way through her system quickly.

She braced her hands on Eddie's shoulders when he grabbed her hips and slowly pulled her up to her feet and she could feel him smile into her neck when she buried herself in his chest for a hug.

His arms cocooned around her waist, slowly rubbing up and down her back while he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and pressed his lips to her shoulder.

"I'll come check on you in a bit," When (Y/n) pulled back, Eddie cupped her face in his hands, tilting her chin up so she was looking up at him so he could kiss her. He felt her hands smooth up and down his chest and she nodded against his hands, kissing the side of his palm before she turned around and smiled across at Buck who had Chris attached to his leg.

"Hi Buck,"

"Hey," He nodded his head at her and gave a short wave when she turned to head down the hallway.

She knew Chris would be fine with them, he was already telling them which video game he wanted to play and how he was going to beat them. She could manage a small nap and try to rest before it was time to try and get herself to eat something.

A groan murmured past (Y/n)'s lips when she tried to open her eyes but they felt like they were weighed down and made of stone. When her eyes finally managed to open, nothing would come into focus and everything became blurred like a droplets of rain ruining a painting.

How long had she been asleep?

When (Y/n) tried to move and flop an arm behind her, a bubble of disappointment welled up in her chest when she realised she was alone in bed. Of course she was; why would Eddie be here with her when it wasn't even time to sleep? He would still be with Buck and Chris in the living room and (Y/n) nodded to herself as if confirming her thoughts when she heard the distant sound of the video game on the tv.

She couldn't have been asleep that long, Eddie would have woken her if they were about to sit down and eat.

Sitting up proved to be more of a challenge than (Y/n) had ever faced before. She couldn't seem to hold her head up properly, it felt so heavy and it wobbled from side to side and her body felt groggy.

With stiff hands, (Y/n) cradled the glass of water from the side table and drained it completely, feeling like her throat was made of sandpaper grating together and becoming raw. Why did she feel so rough? Surely she hadn't been asleep for that long? She could feel the groggy, sluggish waves slowly starting to depart and roll off her when her senses started coming back to her.

The uneasy feeling she had felt all day started to come back but it was when her stomach churned and rotated in an awful twist that (Y/n) felt like she was waking up properly.

She threw the cover to one side and slowly heaved her legs over the edge of the bed but she couldn't seem to liven herself up, all she could do was wake up. Every movement felt limp and heavy right until a shooting pain ripped through her abdomen and had her doubling over with one hand supporting her on the bed and the other pressed to the source of the pain.

Something wasn't right.

(Y/n) tried to take a deep breath and stand up, she wanted to talk to Eddie; she needed to see Eddie. But as soon as she was up on her feet, all the blood left her head and went swimming down to her feet.

Her knees collided roughly with the floor and she hurriedly coiled an arm tightly around her stomach that was starting to throb with each rush of blood that circulated through her system. It felt like her head was spinning around and she wasn't sure whether her balance was off or if it was her eyes moving rapidly when everything seemed to tilt from left to right.

"No… no, fuck," (Y/n) hated how quiet and pathetic her voice sounded and how croaky it felt passing through her lips; it didn't sound like her at all.

She tilted her head down until her temple pressed against the carpet and she tried to take some deep breaths to make everything right, but it wasn't working.

Eddie ruffled Chris's hair and handed him a glass of juice in his favourite cup; his plastic cup with dinosaurs painted around the sides and a straw curled around the outside of the cup. But he leaned his weight against the side of the sofa and locked eyes with Buck when both of them heard a thud from down the hallway.

"I'm gonna see if she's alright," Eddie whispered quietly, trying to hide the frown pulling at his lips while Buck nodded and set up the Mario Cart so he and Chris could have another game to keep the eight year old distracted. "Mi amor, you alright?" He called out as he walked down the hallway towards their room. It wouldn't surprise him if she had knocked something over or walked into one of the cabinets.

A slither of fear crept up the back of his neck and tingled through his blood when he didn't hear a response.

"Mi amor?"

Reaching their bedroom, Eddie lightly tapped his knuckles against the door before he slowly opened it and walked in.

"Shit." His heart jumped into his throat and he quickly fumbled to turn the light switch on before he crashed down onto his knees in front of (Y/n)'s limp form curled up on the floor. "(Y/n)? Mi amor what's wrong?" He brushed her hair behind her ear before he pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. Her skin was burning hot and clammy from sweat.

He curled his fingers tightly around her upper arms and gently tried to lean her back up so she wasn't sat doubled over on herself and he could have a look at her. When he got her leaning upright, he felt her hands move to grab his shoulders and steady herself but he could see tears falling down her face and worry light up her eyes.

"Talk to me,"

"My stomach… I- I don't feel right," (Y/n) tipped her forehead down against Eddie's shoulder and groaned into his neck when another rippling pain shot through her. There were so many thoughts and reasons and rationalities coursing through her mind and none of them were good. This could be any number of things and each of them had a grave outcome.

"Alright, mi amor let go for one second and I'll talk to Buck… then I can take you to hospital, okay?" Eddie pressed a desperate, sloppy kiss to her burning temple before he prized her hands off his shoulders and stumbled into a jog down the hall.

There was no way he was calling the doctor or staying here when there was something wrong with his wife. And he didn't want to cause all the fuss and stress of ringing 911 when he had Buck here. If Buck could stay and watch Chris or if he could take Chris home with him then Eddie could get (Y/n) in the car and go without having to worry or think about bringing their son with them to A&E. That would only cause more panic and trouble and Chris didn't like the hospital; nor did Eddie want his son to see his mum in this state.

"Everything okay?"

"No." He grabbed Buck by the shoulder until he got the hint and leaned away from Chris so they could talk quietly. "(Y/n)'s got stomach cramps and she doesn't look good… I gotta take her to hospital Buck."

"Shit, yeah go, go. I'll stay here and watch him."

"Thank you! I- don't let him see her when I bring her out or he'll panic," Eddie grabbed his phone and keys from the coffee table before he bent down in front of Chris and patted his knees to gain his attention. "Buddy, me and mum have to pop out for a bit, you okay to stay here with uncle Buck and get a takeaway for tea?"

Eddie couldn't let Chris hear the panic in his voice or deduce that his smile was fake and full of anxiety. And when he got (Y/n) out and took her to the car, he couldn't let Chris see her and how ill she was or he would know something was wrong and he would panic. If he thought they had to run an errand and he was having a fun games night with Buck he would stay happy and settled and it would be easier on all of them.

"Yeah! I'm winning anyway," Chris pointed to the tv but when he looked over at Buck he grinned cheekily. It had been a while since Buck had stayed over for tea and getting a takeaway meant it was going to be a fun night for them at least.

"Alright, I'll see you in a bit. Love you,"

"Love you too daddy,"

"I'll call when I know what's going on," Eddie patted Buck's shoulder and kissed Chris's forehead before he headed back to go and get (Y/n).

He was going to have to be stealth and quick about this, if (Y/n) couldn't walk it would be easier and he could carry her out and make sure Buck kept Chris's attention on the tv so he didn't notice his parents leaving. If she could walk, Eddie would need to shield her from view and pretend everything was fine. Chris wouldn't let them leave if he knew (Y/n) was ill, he would attach himself to her and have a meltdown for the rest of the night if Buck had to hold him back and make him stay away from them.

"Mi amor, let's get you to the car I'm taking you to hospital,"

Eddie crouched back down in front of her and tried to smile but it didn't reach his eyes and they both knew it. He curled his arms around her middle and pressed their chests together, taking (Y/n)'s weight for her so he could pull her up and get her to her feet. But the moment she was stood up, her hands fisted his shirt and her forehead pressed into his chin like she was trying to give him some kind of secret message he couldn't understand.

"I-is… did my water just break?" (Y/n) croaked out, keeping her eyes closed as tight as she possibly could while her fingers burned into Eddie's shirt to try and stop herself from screaming out.

Something had happened, she didn't know for sure but it felt like her water had broken and it was trickling down between her thighs.

Oh God, if it was her waters that meant she was either miscarrying at five months or there was something very wrong with their baby.

She could feel Eddie's fingers puncture into her hips and he tilted his chest back so he could look down between them and see what it was. But his sharp intake of breath and the way his chest suddenly tensed and went very firm and stiff against her told (Y/n) he wasn't happy.

"Uh, no, no it wasn't. Let's go mi amor." He shuffled back and turned them round towards the door but he could feel her resistence against him.

"Eddie, what's wrong?" (Y/n) moved her hands down to his biceps and gripped tightly as he walked her down the corridor and when they got near the living room, he gripped her tighter. He was trying not to make her walk too fast but he wanted to be quick enough to get out without Chris seeing them.

Panic bubbled up inside (Y/n)'s chest when they got out the front door. It felt like a switch had flipped and Eddie went into some kind of frantic, stern, in-control mode that she hadn't seen since she went into labour with Chris. She squeaked when he moved one arm lower down to grab a fistful of her thigh and his other hand snaked down to her lower back. As quick as anything, he lifted her up and headed over to the truck.

She gripped his biceps harder when he lifted her up into the truck but when he went to pull away, she didn't let go.

"What's wr-" A tightening sensation clawed at her stomach and she cut herself off, smothering a groan by pushing her chin down hard into her chest but it seemed to be the wrong thing to do. She had been wrong. It wasn't her waters breaking that she had felt, it was the start of a haemorrhage; she was bleeding.

Eddie's name clawed past her lips along with a few Spanish profanities she had learned from him over the years. Her hands started to shake against his arms until he leaned over her and cupped her face tight in his hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears that started to fall and his brows rose as a sudden calm but stern look washed across his face.

"We're gonna get you help, I'm here with you, I'm not leaving you mi amor. Please try and stay calm with me, alright?"

She couldn't speak. Even when he kissed her lips, her cheeks, her nose and her temple, all she could do was watch him.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

***

"I need help!" Reaching his hands out, Eddie grabbed the end of the stretcher and turned it in the direction of the truck he had hazardly parked up as close as he could get it to the emergency room entrance.

"Sir you can't-"

"I'm firefighter Diaz, my wife is in the car she's miscarrying and she's already started to haemorrhage. I need you to get her inside and get a doctor, her pulse is dropping."

Eddie kept his fingers curled tight around the stretcher and continued to pull it towards the truck, but the pain in his eyes was what stopped the nurse from calling security on him. She had been heading to help get a patient from a different department but this seemed to be an emergency and it wasn't like she could say no. Not when Eddie was in a state and he had already comondeered her like this. Saying no would cause a scene and he had a patient who needed help.

"Okay," Her voice was soft and she pushed the stretcher quicker to keep pace with him until they reached the truck he had started to point at.

The nurse waited worriedly by the stretcher as Eddie climbed up on the edge of the truck and curved his arms around his wife. He didn't like the amount of blood he could see and every minute when he reached over to check her pulse on the way, he could feel it fluctuating and now it was starting to drop.

"Come here baby," He mumbled quietly as he lifted her out and moved over to the stretcher.

(Y/n) kept her arms locked around his neck until Eddie gave up and kept his upper body doubled over her with their chests touching. He held the stretcher on either side and started to push as the nurse steered it in the right direction to get them in the emergency room.

"How far along is she?"

"Twenty three weeks."

At least this way Eddie didn't have to run up to the reception desk with his wife in his arms and demand someone help him. The nurse guided them straight past the waiting room, scanned her ID and took them straight into the back where the emergency cubicles were.

"We can use this room, let's get her on the bed." The nurse pulled the stretcher up beside the bed in the middle of the last room on the left. And she leaned over to try and help but Eddie didn't give her chance. He looped (Y/n)'s arms around his neck and lifted her up bridal style and moved to the other side of the bed so he could carefully ease her down.

He had been worried on the drive down that (Y/n) was about to pass out but he knew now that the pain was too consuming to let her fall unconscious and that went in his favour. He needed her awake and somewhat alert.

"I've got you mi amor, stay with me," He mumbled the words against her hair when he felt her muttering his name when he tried to unravel her arms from his neck. He held her sides tightly and buried his face in the crook of her neck, perching himself on the side of the bed so he could cradle her close. He couldn't get in the way when the doctor came in but he couldn't just stand and watch either, he had to be touching or holding her to calm them both down.

He kept his arm looped around (Y/n)'s waist, hating himself when he let his hands rest on her stomach for a few seconds but he didn't know how to stop himself. Eddie had already accepted that this was a miscarriage, there was nothing else it could be and he had given up on the thought of the hospital being able to do anything for their baby.

They weren't at the viable stage yet, the ICU wouldn't be able to do anything for them and Eddie could handle that. He could handle losing this baby, as long as he didn't lose his wife too.

He rattled off her name and information, too shaky to write it down so the nurse did it for him before she practically ran out to get a doctor in here.

"Eddie… i-it's happening," One of (Y/n)'s hands dug into his bicep so fast and tight that her nails punctured into his skin and started to draw blood but her other arm suddenly pinned down on her stomach before she let out a guttural cry that had him shaking.

Where was the doctor?

"Alright… alright I've got you. You're doing so well," He pulled back and slipped out of her arms so he could stand up and move to lean over the end of the bed. He couldn't stand around and do nothing, he had been an army medic, he knew the basics.

He had to stop himself from crying when he tugged her leggings and underwear off her hips and down her legs and he took a second to close his eyes and pray.

He wasn't used to doing it like this.

The times he took- or sometimes tore- off her bottoms was for intimacy, not life threatening conditions like losing a baby.

"I need some fucking help in here!" Each word echoed and vibrated off the glass walls and his voice roared, demanding to be heard by someone, anyone who could help. He found a box of gloves and snapped on a pair before he started rooting like he was raiding the place. He threw a few drawers open until he came upon sheets and gauze and at least one towel that he threw all onto the side of the bed before he leaned his stomach back on the end of the bed to see what was happening.

It was exactly as he thought it would be, if a little quicker than he expected. There was so much blood that Eddie could barely see anything and cleaning away the blood with the sheet he found wasn't helping. he was desperate to ransack the medical trolley in the corner but it would most likely be locked and he would get in trouble for administering the hospital's meds without their permission.

He had been crying with happiness and concern when Christopher was born, they knew something had gone wrong but they had been blessed that he had been alive and relatively okay at that point.

The only tears Eddie shed now were ones of anguish and sorrow when he held such a tiny, limp form in his arms, wrapped up in a towel.

"Alright mi amor, you've done it. I'm so proud of you," Eddie pressed his lips to part of (Y/n)'s inner thigh that wasn't caked with blood and he smoothed his hand up and down the back of her knee for a second. He needed to calm her down, she was trembling from shock and when he pressed his fingers against her ankle for her pulse, it was dropping again.

"She's in here…" The nurse Eddie collared outside came tumbling into the room but worry and uncertainly flashed across her face when Eddie turned round to face her, mumbling a quiet yet heartwrenching 'stillborn'.

The burning fury in his eyes was like nothing she had ever seen before and she gasped when he thrust the towel into her limp arms, coating her gloves in the blood he had lathered all over him.

"Page the ICU," The doctor nodded at the nurse, silently telling her to leave the room.

"Eddie…"

As quick as anything, Eddie spun round on his heels and bolted back over to (Y/n)'s side but when he took her hand and hovered his fingers against her pulse, he shivered.

"She's gonna code!" He hit the emergency button at the end of the bed while the doctor moved round, trying to work three jobs at once. He strapped an oxygen mask over (Y/n)'s nose and lips, placed a clip on her finger to monitor her heartbeat that was steadily fading and swiped the pillow from behind her head. He lowered the bed down so she was lying flat and wheeled the defibrilator across just as two nurses rushed into the room.

Eddie couldn't force himself to let go of her hand, not when her eyes rolled to the back of her head or when her fingers lost their grip on his hand and her arm was left hanging limply in the air, held up by his fist that wouldn't let her go.

It took the male nurse grabbing Eddie by the shoulders and forcibly moving him to the other side of the room to get him far enough away so that they could shock (Y/n)'s heart.

"Don't you dare." For a moment, the nurse thought Eddie was shouting at him until the firefighter leaned over his shoulder to try and force his way back to his wife. "Don't you dare fucking leave me! No te atrevas!"

Don't you dare.

***

"Eddie," Moving a trembling hand out, (Y/n) gently raked her shaking fingers through her husband's hair to try and get his attention.

She felt stiff, beyond tired and unusually weighed down which she realised was because he was practically laid on top of her. His head was nestled just beneath her neck with his face smushed up against her chest. He had his left arm coiled tightly around her waist, half of his chest was leaning onto her lower stomach and legs and his feet were hanging off the end of the bed they were laid in.

(Y/n) used her free hand to pull the oxygen tube from her nose and threw it off to the floor. She didn't want that on. Something glimmered in her eyes when she saw the canula in her hand had been bandaged up; Eddie had told them. He told them she had a tendancy to take them out or catch them unless they bandaged it which always made her feel better so she couldn't see the needle in her vein.

There was deep-rooted urge to push her palm down on her stomach but (Y/n) fought it off and kept her eyes firmly on her husband instead of the lower part of her body.

Looking would only make the water works start and she didn't feel like crying, she felt like she had gone three rounds with a tornado. Crying wasn't going to help just yet.

"Eddie, carino, wake up." (Y/n) moved her hand from his hair to brush against his cheek and jaw, tickling the stubble that he was trying to grow.

His cheek nuzzled into her hand automatically and a gruff noise vibrated from his chest through to hers until it seemed to click in his mind who it was waking him up. With that, his eyes blinked rapidly and locked up on her and his head pulled away from her chest so fast he left behind a sudden aching gap wanting to be filled.

"Oh, mi amor! Estaba tan- worried, I was so worried. Don't do that to me again, please, please don't." A few more Spanish ramblings fell from his lips as he tried to shuffle and move but his body was sluggish and uncoordinated.

He managed to lean up on his right elbow and shuffle a bit higher up the bed until they were level again. His left hand was already cupping her jaw and he barely scraped his thumb across her lower lip before instinct took over and he was kissing her feverishly. Her plump, chapped lips had never felt so enticing and he kissed her again and again until he was biting her lip and pulling her closer.

"I'm sorry,"

"No, no I-" He nudged his temple against her cheek and pecked her jaw before he tried to look at her again. "I don't want you to be sorry, fuck, don't be sorry for something like that, I just… I don't want to do that again." He wasn't trying to guilt trip her or make her feel bad, the exact opposite.

Eddie wanted to show and tell her how much she meant to him, as if she didn't already know. He couldn't come that close to losing her again, he couldn't do it. There was no setting for him to function without (Y/n) by his side or in his life. He couldn't look after Christopher on his own, he wouldn't be able to look after himself or cope day to day life if he didn't have (Y/n).

She meant far too much to him.

All through the night and into this morning, the only plausable thing Eddie could think, feel and convey was,

'Thank God she's alive.'

He had no other thought process. He watched her heart get shocked back into rhythm and he nearly got detained for pushing the nurse down to the floor so he could get back to his wife. He didn't let go of her hand, he stayed on his knees beside the bed kissing her arm and crying until they moved her into the ICU to be closely monitored through the night.

Their baby was different. That was a loss Eddie could learn to deal with, it was a life that hadn't started yet, someone he hadn't gotten to know. Losing a baby was something Eddie didn't want to do, he didn't want to have to know what that felt like but he would take it every day for the rest of his life if it meant he kept (Y/n).

His wife was his other half, Eddie couldn't live as half of one person. He had to have (Y/n) to be him and live this life.

"I can stand losing a baby, I'd be able to function and cope with that loss even if I didn't want to," He kissed her jaw again before he brushed his nose against hers and looked down into her eyes. "But not you. You can't leave me like that. I don't work without you, my heart can't beat on it's own."

#eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #imagine #911 #911 imagine #911 fox #evan buckley

340 notes · View notes

lucy90712 · 3 months

Note

Hiiiii so if u do requests can u pls do one where like reader is jude’s gf but jobe has like a little crush on her and jude can feel it and like when they all hangout jobe is all over her and jude gets a lik jelly pleassseeee😭🫶🏻

WC: 1.7k Living in Madrid is amazing it's warm and the city is filled with so many amazing people but nothing beats being back home. Moving to Madrid with my boyfriend Jude was a big decision to make but after a lot of thinking and talks with my family I decided to just do it. It's been one of the best decisions I've ever made I found a job I really enjoy that is also flexible so it allows me to travel with Jude to some of his away games. I've also made some great friends with not only the other Real Madrid players but also their partners who have been really welcoming. As much as it's been a great few months here I've been looking forward to getting to go home for a few days ever since I found out Jude had a small break between games. We won't be back long but while we are there we are going to stay with Jude's parents and mine are going to visit at some point so we can all see each other before our normal lives resume.

Jude being the ever sensible person he is decided that we needed to get the first flight we could physically make which happened to be just after his last game before the break. This meant we had to pack once we got up and have everything in the car ready to go straight to the airport after the end of the game. It was highly stressful but as soon as the plane touched down on home soil all that stress melted away and the tiredness kicked in too. Jude's parents were there to meet us both at the airport despite it being late which was much appreciated. On the relatively short drive back to their house Jude wouldn't stop talking about what life has been like and the last game even though his parents will already know everything that's happened. While he was talking away I just rested my head on his shoulder starting to really feel the tiredness of getting up early and not sleeping on the plane.

As soon as we arrived Jobe was quick to meet us at the door I was expecting him to greet Jude first seeing as they are brothers and they have always been really close but instead he came straight over to me to give me a hug. It's not exactly out of the ordinary as Jobe and I get on well and he saw Jude more recently at an event they both went to that I couldn't attend so I guess it makes sense for him to be excited to see me. Despite my attempts to have a small nap in the car I was still really tired so I just hugged Jobe back until he pulled away to finally greet his brother with less enthusiasm it seemed.

"How have you been y/n?" Jobe asked

"I've been good life is amazing in Madrid but it's good to be home" I said

"Well I'm glad you're back I missed you" he said

"Aww thanks Jobe that's sweet" I said

"You know I'm here too right" Jude interrupted clearly a little agitated

I don't know what was going on but there seemed to be a bit of tension between the two of them but it was far too late for me to worry about it too much. It's quite possible that they had an argument at some point and now they are just trying to annoy each other as thats happens quite a lot and sometimes I end up in the middle of their fights. After saying goodnight to everyone I grabbed Jude's hand to lead him up to bed but I could see him giving Jobe almost a death stare out the corner of my eye. Hopefully they sort out whatever's going on between them as I don't want to be dealing with their probably stupid argument in the few days we have back home.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waking up this morning all the tension from last night seemed to have disappeared Jude woke up with a smile on his face which stayed even when Jobe came downstairs and sat right next to me on the sofa. Today we didn't have anything planned as we weren't exactly sure what time we would get here and how tired we would be but seeing as both of us were quite well rested we decided to spend the day going out around the town and the places we used to go all the time when still living here. Jobe wanted to tag along as he didn't have training and to try and keep the peace I said he could join us but I promised Jude we would spend the evening together just us.

After having some breakfast we all got ready, somehow I was the first one ready so I had to wait downstairs but I was joined by Jobe not long after. As he sat down he put his hand on my knee for a few seconds before taking it off and resting it in his lap. He's never done that before but I assume he just misjudged where to put his hand and that it was an accident. He then went on to ask me how things have been in Madrid and if Jude has been treating me right which felt like a weird question but I just want to enjoy my few days back home so I let it slide. Thankfully Jude came down not too long after so I used that as my chance to get away from the awkward conversation without making a scene.

Jude wanted to just walk around the town so that's what we did. Luckily it wasn't too busy sure people took pictures and stopped us but it wasn't as bad as it has been in Madrid recently we can't move when we go out over there now. While Jude was taking pictures with a group of fans I stood out the way with Jobe as I don't like to be in the pictures unless I'm asked. While we were stood to the side Jobe tried to be slick and slide his arm over my shoulders but I saw it coming a mile away and moved a bit to the side to avoid it. I really wanted to say something as this isn't like Jobe but I won't do it while in public as I don't want to start an argument and create a scandal for Jude. We walked for a bit longer before deciding to find somewhere to have lunch and hey again Jobe was acting weird as he wanted to sit next to me but Jude took that seat before he got the chance. The entire time we were eating he was just staring at me which made me a little uncomfortable but by this point Jude had caught on to what was going on and he made sure to be as close to me as possible and whenever he got the chance he kissed my cheek.

The rest of our day out was just as awkward as the morning Jude was trying to make it clear that I was his by constantly having his arm around my waist and giving me kisses all while Jobe was still trying to get me attention. I felt like an object the way they were almost competing over me and using me to prove a point to one another. Jude wasn't being affectionate because he felt like it he wanted to assert dominance and prove that I'm his which just infuriated me as I can stand up for myself. Jobe was also getting on my last nerve he knows that I'm with his brother and have been for a long time now, we are happy together and even if we were to break up I would certainly not go for Jude's brother that's just wrong. While we were out I kept my cool but as soon as we got back I just stood by the door looking at them both trying not to let my anger completely take over.

"Ok what is going on with you both today?" I asked

"Nothing" Jude replied

"Something is going on and I don't like it Jobe you're acting like you can just flirt with me and touch me whenever you like which you can't and Jude you're treating me like your possession not a human being let alone your girlfriend so someone explain what's going on" I ranted

"I'm sorry baby I don't mean to treat you like that I just didn't like what Jobe was doing and I wanted to show him you were mine" Jude explained

"Jobe why have you been trying to put your hands on my girlfriend?" Jude asked

"I haven't been" he tried to defend himself

The two of them just started arguing after that so I decided to just walk away I said what I wanted to say I don't need to watch them argue. I'd only just made it out the room when I hear Jobe admit that he had a crush on me. As anyone could predict that statement didn't go down too well Jude only got more angry with Jobe swearing and yelling even more than before. My relaxing trip back home has long gone, at this point I just want to leave without someone killing each other. Just as I was about to step in Jude told Jobe that he just had to get over it and came to find me dragging me upstairs with him.

Jude was very much still annoyed but once we got to his room he pulled me down onto the bed with him at let out a frustrated sigh. He clearly needed to let off some steam so I just let him rant about the situation for a good 5 minutes before he calmed down and apologised for how today went. I wanted to be mad but I just couldn't it's hard to stay mad at him for too long instead I just wanted to have the quiet evening that I promised him earlier which will ideally be just the two of us in bed watching movies and eating lots of food. Nothing sounds better than relaxing and forgetting about the events of the day because today is definitely not a day to remember.

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #football imagine

289 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

Note

WIBTA if I asked my mom to stop keto-fying recipes?

this is either gonna be a complete non-issue or get people mad at me, i can tell lmao. unfortunately this has been bugging me for weeks. :D

To be clear, I'm almost 25, but I and my adult/teenage siblings still live with my parents bc the economy is ass. Also, Mom hasn't been doing it to every recipe…yet…but the ones she has changed have been recipes where a carbohydrate is an important part of the main meal.

For instance, replacing the potatos in a beef-carrot-potato stew with a rutabaga.

Mom's been on a modified keto diet for a while now, and while Dad is the only one intentionally doing it with her, the rest of us are aware of her diet and are generally chill about it. For a while, we would have nights where the parents would have Thing A, which was diet-compliant, and the rest of us would have Thing B, which was not. Those of us who are not dieting are all old enough to make things for ourselves, by the way, and that's usually what happens. For most of these "split meals," one parent usually doesn't wind up cooking two meals, one of which they can't even eat.

The stew is usually a "split" meal that gets made by one person who does most of the prep just by virtue of knowing the recipe, then one person who peels and chops the potatoes, and then one who wrangles the peeling and chopping of the rutabaga. The rutabaga then gets combined with a proportionate amount of The Rest, and those of us who aren't dieting are welcome to taste-test it. I've tried it, and the rutabaga's okay, I guess, but quite a bit too sweet and non-safe-food-y for me in the context of the stew, especially when I'm so used to potatoes. Wrangling the rutabaga is a bit more fun than eating it.

…except the most recent time we had the stew, Mom and Dad made an executive decision and just made a full-family pot of rutabaga stew without really seeing if everyone else was on board with it. Two of my siblings seemed fine with it, one is an enigma on a good day so I don't even know how they felt about it, and I hated it. I didn't get the chance to say so, however, between everyone else complimenting the altered stew and the conversation quickly switching to something else.

Unfortunately, our parents have decided that we will be making the stew with rutabagas only going forward.

Not "the family has decided."

The parents have decided. For adults and a teenager. Not for little kids.

Since then, in other conversations where recipes come up, such as conversations about the teenager's recent baking kick, Mom has been mentioning keto versions of whatever's being talked about in the nonspecific way that I'm pretty sure is her hinting/telling us that we should make it. In the context of teen baking, a keto chocolate cake, or keto cookies.

Look, I'm not here to debate the worth of a diet or lack thereof. I have plenty of those opinions and I'm not going to change them or let them distract from the core of the matter: when any of us are making food for the others, why are we letting two people's diets dictate what the rest of us should eat? If we're making something specifically to align with the keto diet, then that's a parent snack/meal. If we're not, it's a "kids" snack/meal. It should be as simple as that. Why make a full-family-sized meal if it's going to be pushing low/no carbs onto people who, historically, have not wanted to or needed to drop carbs? (It's me, I'm people. I know, I'm not really subtle, am I?)

I'm considering, the next time the stew comes up as a dinner plan, asking what a single-sized portion of the potatoes would be and just making it for myself. Given I have the spoons to do so that night, anyway. However, I really don't want to insult Mom's family recipe (which…she's already altered…and I would be reverting to its previous state…) or her cooking skills (which haven't lessened, even if I personally think her ingredient choices are a bit lacking lately).

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

150 notes · View notes

bitterpotionn · 8 months

Text

Johnny Slaughter - Dirt Road

Phew, okay my first ever x reader...ever! I've been so obsessed with Johnny that I had to add my own take on his character. Bear with me, I normally don't do this type of writing. However, I hope to continue to improve. Any feedback or constructive criticism is welcome!

This idea randomly popped into my head and I'm not even sure how to characterize it. A night with Johnny pulled over on the side of an old country road. I experimented with a more hesitant, nervous reader. Again, this is all new to me.

Warnings- Dub-con, unsafe sex, semi-public sex, Johnny's mean, nervous/unsure reader, cunnilingus, focuses more on the reader's inner thoughts, unhealthy dynamics, light slapping, a lot of neck grabbing, Johnny is a litterbug, smoking, name-calling

Red, orange, and yellow streaked across the sky as the sun set deep into the flat horizon. The dirt road he drove down kicked up dust that swirled in circles, disappearing behind them just as quickly.

She laid her head against the seatbelt dispenser, looking out of the rolled-down window. His old white truck hummed as they drove farther and farther out of town. She counted each passing house, fantasizing about the lives of the people who lived in them. What did they do? How many people live there? Do they have kids? What-

"Darlin'" a deep voice cut through her hazy thoughts.

She turned her head to the man driving the old white truck. His right hand was gripping the steering wheel with a bit too much force, while his left lay loosely on top of the stick shift. He was smirking, like usual. He reminded her of a wolf like he could eat her up at any second.

"Are you alright?" his accent thick, the words lazily slipped from his lips.

"Yeah…I was just thinking" she said, turning back to the open window. Allowing the cool wind to hit her face.

He frowned once she looked away, rolling his eyes a bit. His left hand moved from the shift to her thigh, giving it a firm squeeze.

She didn't look at him after that, getting lost again in her wishful thinking. Counting each house one by one by one.

—

She gasped slightly opening her eyes, the sky was dark and she could hear the crickets and frogs chirping. She must have fallen asleep. They were stopped on the side of the road. She could only see vast fields that stopped at the dark tree line. The only light was from the moon and the dull headlights of the truck.

She turned toward the driver's seat. He was out of the car, leaning against the closed driver-side door.

"Johnny…" she said quietly. She knew he couldn't hear her, she almost didn't want him to. But nonetheless, she opened the passenger side door and walked around the truck to stand next to him. He was smoking a cigarette, Marlboro Reds, his favorite.

"What are you doin? Why'd we stop?" she asked looking up at him. He was so tall, that sometimes she felt like she had to crane her neck just to look into his eyes.

He looked down at her and smirked. "Just stopped for a smoke. Got tired of drivin'" he said, grabbing her waist to pull her into his side. He blew the smoke in her direction.

Coughing, she nuzzled into his side, shielding her face from the smoke. She always hated the smell of cigarettes. Recently, though, they were almost a comforting smell. It clung to her clothes, hair, skin, a small reminder of him.

He leaned against his truck, his head tilted up towards the sky. He stared at the stars, expressionless.

"So…how far are we from your family's house?" she asked, breaking the steady silence, craning her head up to look at his face. She held the hand that was gripping her waist, rubbing small circles into his rough skin.

He hesitated. Something he never does, she even took notice. After a long pause, he grunted. "I dunno, maybe another day's drive?"

She didn't pry after that, she didn't want to make him upset. His family was seemingly a very touchy subject, despite him bringing up the idea of taking her there to meet them.

After a while, he threw the butt of his cigarette on the ground stepping on it. He looked down at her, she was still nestled into his side, her eyes now closed.

He chuckled a bit and grabbed her waist leaning her against the driver's side door. Her eyes flew open. "Now hun, I don't think it's fair I'm drivin' all this way and you get to sleep" He hummed out, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck.

"H-hey! I offered to drive you said no" she pouted, wrapping her arms around his waist, pulling him closer to her.

"I can't trust you driving my truck." He scoffed looking down at her. He moved his finger under her chin, pushing it up so she was staring directly at him. "You're just a dumb little girl huh?" He chuckled. A wolf smirk adorned his lips. His words were always laced with degradation. Like he got off on hurting her feelings.

She gave him a pout and stared at him. She was always starstruck at his sharp features. So classically handsome. He reminded her of James Dean. She loved watching those old movies with her dad back home. What was her dad up to? She made a mental note to call him once they arrived at Johnny's home.

He must have noticed her drifting off, he gave her cheek a rough pat. "Focus darlin', I'm not done with you just yet." His hand drifted under her white tank top, his hands stopped just below her breasts.

"Jo-Johnny…" she stuttered out, shivering from his cold hands. "N-not here… It's dark. What if someone sees…" her voice was laced with nervousness.

He scoffed and pulled his hands away. "You're no fun. C'mon…we can go back in the truck, no one will see I promise" He opened the door and lifted her into the truck, so she was sitting with her legs dangling off the seat, facing the outside. His hands were on either side of her, caging her in. She was now looking down at him.

She bit down on her lip slightly, nervous playing with her hands in her lap. She looked into the darkness behind him. Nothing but a cornfield.

He scoffed a bit and played with the buttons of her shorts. "How bout this…" he stopped, smirking up at her before he continued "I'll be a gentleman and help you out first huh?" his calloused hands yanked down her shorts, his arms hooking underneath her knees pulling her closer to him.

She gasped a bit and grabbed onto his shoulders for support. Her eyes were blown wide, and she frantically looked around, worried about someone seeing her in such a vulnerable position.

He grins widely at her nervous state. "You're too cute" he said mockingly as he leaned down, kissing the inside of her thighs. His hand traveled up to her soaking cunt. He gave it a firm slap before looking up at her face.

Her eyes screwed shut as she began breathing heavily. She felt a warm pulsing in her lower belly. "Now look at that…" Johnny gave a low whistle looking at her wet cunt. "Soakin' wet and I barely even touched you" his words were harsh and mocking. He gave her a long lick up her weeping slit.

She gasped, her back arching into him. "F-fuck…m-more…" she whined out, her hands finding their way into his thick hair. His eyes narrowed and he looked up at her pulling away. He grabbed her neck and glared at her, first warning. "Is that any way to ask me, hun?" He smirked at her "Beg nicely, slut"

"J-Johnny please…" her words trailed off, her eyes tearing up in embarrassment, She felt his grip tighten around her neck. "Please! Please…I'll be good!" He hummed slightly, seemingly satisfied with her half-attempt at begging. He began licking and sucking on her swollen clit. Keeping her steady by gripping her thighs.

She cried out as his tongue traveled into her. Her eyes shifted down to him, his face buried in between her thighs, his eyes shut as he worked her. He was eating her with such force. He hummed a bit as he plunged his tongue deeper into her, creating a vibration that made her shake.

He looked up at her, her eyes were shut again. He reached a hand up and grabbed her throat, all while his face was buried in her cunt. Her eyes shot open. She noticed his glare and her breathing hitched. Second warning. "Eyes on me" he said, his voice muffled.

His frantic sucking and licking continued once her eyes were fully locked on him. He reached his hand down and slipped two fingers into her. He curled them up into her rapidly. She felt a blazing sensation in her lower stomach, and her legs began to shake at the sudden entrance. "I…I'm gonna cum!" she moaned out loudly and flew a hand over her mouth in an attempt to quiet her moans. He let out a muffled chuckle as he felt her come undone in his mouth.

He slowly pulled back. His mouth and chin glistened from her arousal. She stared at him and let out a breathy laugh, her eyes hazy and unfocused. He looked so handsome like that. He stared back at her and grabbed her neck, pulling her in for a rough kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue.

He broke the kiss and gripped her chin "What do you say darlin'" His smirk was wide. "Thank you" she breathed out, laying back, trying to catch her breath.

Johnny grabbed her waist and set her back into the passenger seat. He climbed into the truck and shut the door. She panted and laid against the window staring up at the stars. Her mind felt misty.

Johnny stared at her and rubbed the bulge in his tight jeans. He hardly ever worried about just her pleasure. He always needed something in return. He grabbed her thigh "Aren't you forgettin' something doll?" he said leaning back, his hand fiddling with his belt, trying to undo it. She stared out the window, ignoring him. She couldn't look away from the millions of stars lighting up the night sky.

He scoffed a bit and grabbed her neck, yanking her towards him, into his lap. "I'm gettin' tired of you not listenin' to me" he growled out pulling out his throbbing cock, final warning. He set her in his lap and glared at her. She gasped, staring at him, her eyes wide with fear. "I'm…I'm sorry-"

"Show me that you're sorry" he stroked himself a couple of times before easing her down on his cock. Her eyes widened at the feeling of him filling her so suddenly. He didn't let her adjust, he just began thrusting up into her, while gripping her neck. Keeping her in place.

She held onto his shoulders, her head kept hitting the top of the truck as he thrust into her. She whined out and tried to move her head into the crook of his neck but he stopped her. "Nooo you're gonna look at me while I fuck you, slut" he snapped pushing her head back.

Her head hit the roof, over and over again. Each thrust burned. She stared at him, his eyes were so dark, she could barely even see him due to the darkness of the surrounding country road. She knew he was smirking, getting off on her discomfort. She was lucky he even decided to pleasure her first, she should be grateful, right?

“Fuckkk” he groaned out lowly as he continued his brutal thrusts into her. “You’re my good girl huh?” His hands traveled to her face, pulling her down to kiss him roughly. She whined a bit at this but kissed him back anyway. The stretch of his cock was becoming too much to bear. She prayed he would finish soon.

She found herself focusing on the scar that ran down his face, subtle but there. It was a way she feigned eye contact with him, she found that keeping unbreaking eye contact with him was almost impossible. His thrusts became jagged and sloppy. A small moan escaped his lips that he quickly covered with a loud chuckle. “I’m gonna fill you up real good darlin’”

Despite the intense burning, she felt herself coming close to the edge as well. She was able to sneak down a hand to rub her clit, Johnny was too worried about himself to stimulate her like that. “Please…please…” she begged, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t know if she was begging to finish or for him to stop.

With a loud groan, Johnny thrust back up into her one more time, releasing his hot load deep inside her sore cunt. She let out a loud moan as she came undone as well, shivering at the feeling of him filling her up. She collapsed into his chest, the top of her head aching.

He let out a laugh before setting her beside him, he cleaned himself off with some napkins from the glove department, tossing them carelessly out the window.

She shook as she looked out the window again, looking up at the stars again. 1…2…3… she counted, trying to distract herself from the sickly feeling of his cum dripping out of her. Without another word from him, she felt the soft rumble of the truck as he started it back up. Continuing, farther and farther out of town.

#johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny slaughter x reader #tcm game #tcm #smut #johnny slaughter smut #johnny tcm game #bitterpotionnfics

349 notes · View notes

formulapierre · 1 month

Text

Oklahoma Smokeshow | Logan Sargeant

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Reader , OC x Reader

Prompt: Where you and Logan both had the dream of getting out of your small town and he was the only one that made it.

Warnings: I know Logan isn't southern but I couldn't help myself...

Word Count: 5.8k

Song: Oklahoma Smokeshow - Zach Bryan

There's so much whiskey in his Coke it'll make her nose bend But she swears that his love is a damn God send She's known God since she was a child

After being away for so long, Logan had just rolled back into town a few hours ago. He was still settling in when the familiar sound of his old best friend, Colton, echoed through his door. Colton, ever the persistent one, was begging him to join him for a night out on the town. Despite his tiredness, Logan agreed, knowing that if he didn’t, Colton would pester him incessantly for days.

The local bar, a place teeming with old faces and fond memories, was their chosen destination. Logan made his way there a few minutes earlier than planned, the anticipation of a lively night stirring in him. He ordered his usual drink, then took a seat, soaking in the familiar yet distant ambiance of the bar.

Not too long after, a couple of girls made their entrance, their laughter cutting through the murmur of the crowd. Close on their heels was Colton, readjusting his jeans button with a triumphant smirk on his face. Upon joining Logan, Colton ordered a round of drinks for the girls, giving them a casual nod of acknowledgement.

"Do I want to know?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity at Colton’s antics.

"They were a lot of fun…” Colton replied, his voice laced with amusement. He wore a smug grin as he indulged in his whiskey and coke. As the night wore on, the bar started buzzing with more patrons. The work-weary crowd was eager to kick back and relax, especially because it was a Friday night.

"There she is!" Colton suddenly exclaimed, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the door. Prompted by his exclamation, Logan turned to look, and a familiar face had him stifling a smile. It was you. "I've missed you, baby," Colton falsely confessed, his arms pulling you into a warm embrace and his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. This unexpected sight left Logan momentarily stunned.

"Oh my god! Logan!" You gasped, your eyes lighting up as they finally spotted him. "You're back!" You gushed excitedly, pulling him into a heartfelt hug. Logan had been away for years, and he hadn't seen you since the day he left, the day he broke your heart. He seemed different now - a little taller, broader at the shoulders, and his voice had a rougher edge to it.

"I've missed you so much, darling," he confessed, his voice soft yet sincere. His accent had changed slightly, the old twang of 'darlin'' replaced with a more polished 'darling'.

"Hey, hey…get your hands off my girl," Colton joked, breaking the moment as he hands you a drink.

"When did that happen?" Logan asked, his surprise evident. He would have never guessed that you'd end up with Colton, given his notorious history and recent display of desire with other women.

"Oh…we kinda just fell into bed together one night and it went from there," you explained, laughing it off as Colton's hand found its way to your hip. "But as it turns out, it all worked out pretty well, I think. Don't you agree, my love?"

"I do…you're all I could ever want," Colton replied, the smug smile returning to his face as he kissed you, reaffirming his earlier statement.

She used to play in the yard and she would dream of one day 'Til the world came around and took her dreaming away Told her how to dress and act and smile

“You know…” You began, stepping out of the bustling room, finally finding a quiet moment to pull Logan aside. “They always said you wouldn’t make it…’that boys got a head full of cotton’…” The words brought back old memories, both good and bad, but You said them with a smile. “But just look at you now…” You added, voice thick with layered emotions - pride for His achievements, admiration for his strength, and a hint of unfulfilled longing. Longing for the possibility of having made it out like He did, escaping the confines of your small town life.

“If I’d done as I was told, I wouldn’t have achieved anything,” He retorted, his gaze steady on yours, a shared understanding passing between you, Both remembering the desperation, the yearning for more, the urge to break free that you'd both felt.

“I’m so incredibly proud of you, Lo’,” You confessed, your voice barely a whisper as you wrapped your arms around his broad, strong shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace. His arms moved instinctively around your waist, pulling you closer, and in that moment, a floodgate of memories was opened, washing over you like a tidal wave.

I'm gonna miss you so much," You confessed, tears streaming down your face like a river. You clung to him, arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace, cherishing the last moments before He inevitably had to leave.

"I know," Logan replied, his voice thick with emotion. His hand gently brushed over your hair, a comforting gesture that you had come to love. "And I'm gonna miss you even more. Just remember if anyone asks...”

"You went to basic training…" You repeated, the words echoing in your mind. He had been drilling this into you for weeks, reminding you time and again. Ever since Logan's dad had crushed his dreams of going to Italy to continue his racing career, every waking moment had been consumed by his relentless pursuit of that dream. He had been working tirelessly, juggling two jobs just to scrape together enough money for a one-way plane ticket.

Despite his efforts, he fell short by a few hundred dollars. So, you gave him the money that you’d been saving up. It was a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. At least one of you was going to make it out of this small town and achieve your dreams.

"I love you so much, darlin'," he said, his voice just a whisper in the quiet night. He slowly pulled away from your embrace, his hands lingering on your cheeks before he leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I love you more, Lo'," You replied, voice barely more than a whisper, shaking with the weight of your impending separation. He let go of you and then took a step back, creating a physical distance that seemed to echo the emotional one that was about to come.

He walked towards his car then, his silhouette illuminated by the dim glow of the streetlights. You had offered to accompany him to the airport, but he reassured you that it would only make things harder, more painful.

As he drove away, the tears kept falling. With your hand covering your mouth, You retreated back into the house, not wanting anyone to hear the sobs that wracked your body.

He looked at you, a sincere gratitude etched on his face. "I wouldn't have made it without you, darling," he confessed, his voice carrying a tone of deep admiration. "Without your help, I never would have gotten on that flight."

You met his gaze, your eyes softening. "But you did, and that's what matters. I would have done anything to help you, Lo’," you reassured him, your voice firm but gentle. "Lending you a couple hundred bucks was the very least I could do."

He paused for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. "I owe you my career... my success," he admitted, every word echoing the weight of his gratitude. "If you ever need anything, I will always be here for you," he promised, the sincerity of his words reflected in the depths of his eyes.

Just as the moment began to solidify, a loud voice cut through the tenderness. "Come on, baby! We're getting out of here!" Colton shouted from the entrance to the bar, his words shattering the intimate atmosphere like a stone through glass.

You turned to him, a soft sigh escaping your lips. "I'll be there in a moment," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of reluctance. You turned back to Logan, your gaze lingering on his for a brief second before you pulled away, the promise of a quiet conversation lost in the noise of the bar as you followed your boyfriend back inside.

She's an Oklahoma Smokeshow He's an asshole from back home

"Wow...you look absolutely stunning tonight, Darlin'," Logan said, his voice laced with admiration. His eyes swept over your figure as you approached him, extending his hand to you. He caught your hand in his and spun you around, allowing him a full view of your outfit. The sounds of your infectious laughter filled the quiet room.

"Thank you, baby," you replied, your face lit up with a broad, beaming smile. You felt a warm happiness bubble up within you. His compliment, simple as it was, had a profound effect on you.

"Ready to go?" he asked, his gaze locking onto yours. You were set to meet up with some friends that night at one of their farms. It was going to be a casual gathering with a bonfire, a perfect setting for the summer night. You had picked out a beautiful dress for the occasion, one covered in a soft floral pattern that you knew Logan adored. It was a perfect blend of comfort and style, ideal for the night's activities.

"Definitely," you responded, excitement lacing your tone as you anticipated the fun-filled night ahead.

As you walked towards the car, you looked up at the clear night sky. The stars were sparkling brightly, and a sense of peace washed over you. Tonight was going to be a good night.

Logan opened the car door for you, a chivalrous act that never failed to make you smile. You slid into the seat, the worn leather cool against your skin. The drive to the farm was filled with soft music and comfortable silence, broken by your shared laughter and occasional conversation. The town lights slowly faded in the rearview mirror as you moved further into the countryside, the darkness illuminated only by the bright stars above and the car's headlights.

Once you arrived at the farm, the sound of laughter and soft chatter reached your ears. The bonfire was already crackling, casting dancing shadows on the faces of your friends who had gathered around. You could see the silhouette of horses in the nearby field, their peaceful grazing adding to the tranquil atmosphere.

Logan squeezed your hand reassuringly as you made your way to the group, the warmth of the fire drawing you in. You were greeted with smiles and hugs, making you feel instantly at home.

"Finally, you made it! We were starting to get a little concerned about y’all," exclaimed one of your friends, her smile broad and welcoming as she handed you each a chilled drink.

"I apologise," you admitted, a sheepish grin on your face as you raised your hands in a playful surrender. "I completely lost track of time. I forgot we had decided to leave at 6."

"Well, you should’ve just come by yourself then, Logan," retorted Colton in a teasing tone, a smirk playing on his lips. "Everyone knows girls always take an eternity to get ready...and it’s not even like it’s always worth the wait," he added, his laughter echoing in the room.

"There's no way I'm going anywhere without my girl," Logan stated, his voice filled with warmth and affection. With a soft smile playing on his lips, he reached out, pulling you closer to him. His strong arms enveloped you in a tender embrace, radiating comfort and security, asserting his unwavering commitment to keeping you by his side no matter what.

You nestled into his embrace, your heart fluttering at his words. The air filled with the light banter and laughter of your friends, but all you could focus on was the steady beat of Logan's heart against your own. His presence was a calming familiarity in the midst of the busy party. You felt a sense of serenity wash over you as you leaned into him, his steady heartbeat a comforting rhythm in your ear. His fingers traced small circles on your back, further easing your nerves. Looking up at him, you found Logan's gaze already on you, a tender smile on his lips. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering a quiet "I love you" that made your heart flutter again. In that moment, surrounded by the noise and laughter of your friends, you knew there was no place you'd rather be than here.

"Could you two possibly get a room? It's honestly nauseating," Colton shouts from a few feet away, his voice filled with feigned disgust. He dramatically clutches his stomach and sticks out his tongue as though he's about to be physically sick. His exaggeration brings a wave of laughter from the others in the room, effectively breaking the intimate moment between you and Logan. “God, This is why I hate parties with girls…,”

She'll never make it out alive That small town bar scene Where small vices kill your big dreams

Logan cast a glance in your direction, his brows creased in a question. "What happened?" He asked, the confusion evident in his voice. You turned to look at him, your expression mirroring his confusion. "While I was away, what happened? You used to be so desperate to get outta this place," he elaborated, his words triggering a scoff from you.

"Getting out was never in the cards for me, Logan. We both knew that," you responded, your voice brimming with a resigned acceptance. "While the world turned in your favour, for me, it seemed to stand still. Grandma fell ill, so I had to put my plans on hold and take care of her. Mom was already stretched thin, trying to keep the rest of the family going. After Grandma passed away, it just didn't feel right to pack my bags and leave, no matter how much I wanted it. There were countless nights I found myself staring at your number on my phone, my finger hovering over the call button, ready to tell you that I was booking a flight."

His curiosity piqued, Logan asked, "So why didn't you?" His face was once again etched with confusion.

A laugh escaped your lips as you replied, "I fell into bed with Colton." You paused for a moment, reminiscing. "As I said, things eventually fell into place with him. My parents took a shine to him, and his parents seemed to love me. We began entertaining dreams of moving in together, of finding a little place we could call our own. Mom is already eagerly talking about grandchildren," you continued, your voice tinged with a mix of amusement and resignation.

Logan looked at you, his face a picture of surprise. "But you never wanted any of that," he reminded you, his words echoing your past sentiments.

A sigh escaped your lips as you nodded in agreement. "I didn't, and to be honest, part of me still doesn't. But Colton, he understands that. He isn't pressuring me into anything. We're moving at a pace that I'm comfortable with, something that I'm extremely grateful for," you explained, your tone filled with sincerity.

Logan absorbed your words, his expression sombre. "I guess things changed while I was away," he concluded, his voice carrying a note of resignation.

You nodded and responded softly, "Yes, they did." You understood the underlying meaning of Logan's words. But you also knew that you couldn't give him the reassurance he so desperately sought.

He'd take you home but he's too drunk to drive

You were standing outside the bar, calling Logan on your phone. It was close to midnight, and Colton had left, intending to walk home despite his intoxicated state. You had assured him that you'd call a friend to pick you up, conveniently leaving out the detail that the friend would be Logan.

"Hey...I know it's late but-," you began, but were interrupted as soon as he answered the phone.

"Where are you?" He cut in.

"At Maria's...Colton was too drunk to drive so he's walking home," you explained, sighing. This wasn't the first time you found yourself in this situation.

"I'm on my way," He replied hurriedly. You could hear him moving around over the phone.

"Thank you, Lo'," you said, relieved. As promised you saw his truck pull in a little while later and he climbed out to come and help you in.

"You know, I've been drinking soda all night, I'm perfectly alright," you declare, asserting your independence as he offers a supportive hand to help you up from the cold, hard curb. Despite your protests, he gently assists you, lifting you up to your feet with an unexpected tenderness. He then graciously opens the truck door for you.

"Feel like talking about it?" He tentatively inquires, his voice rich with genuine concern. He leans over to fasten your seatbelt, a simple act that sends a wave of his musky cologne wafting into your nostrils, momentarily distracting you from your turmoil.

"It's Colton…I don't know what more you want me to say?" you respond, your voice laced with a hint of bitterness. Your words hang in the air as he walks around the large, imposing truck and gets into the driver's seat, his silhouette barely visible against the dim glow of the dashboard.

"You...you deserve so much more than him..." he murmurs, almost too softly for you to catch his words. The engine purrs to life, breaking the silence, and he smoothly eases out of the desolate parking lot, leaving behind the scene of your heartbreak.

"Logan, that's your best friend we're talking about," you say, slightly taken aback by his unexpected candour, your voice echoing in the confines of the truck.

"Best friend or not, I can't stand by and watch you get hurt," Logan replies, the raw honesty in his voice making you catch your breath. "You deserve someone who treats you with respect and love, not someone who plays with your feelings." He adds, his gaze focused on the road, but his words aimed straight at your heart.

"Wait, what are you trying to say, Logan?" you ask, a hint of confusion lacing your voice. "He just had too much to drink tonight… it’s not really a big deal, Lo’."

Logan pauses, as if carefully choosing his next words. "It's not just about tonight," he begins, his voice serious. "Remember the night I arrived in town and we all decided to hit the bar? I got there a bit early and saw him... he came in with a few girls and um…wasn’t very discreet about what He had been doing… That was before you arrived. It's not just about him getting drunk, it's about his respect for you."

A silence fills the truck, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, processing Logan's words.

"And... and you didn’t think to tell me this before?" you ask, hurt flashing in your eyes. Your heart feels heavy in your chest, the sting of betrayal gnawing at you.

Logan sighs, running a hand through his hair. "You told me you loved him and I didn’t want to upset you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I thought...maybe it was just a one time thing. But seeing him tonight, seeing how he treated you...it’s clear to me now that it probably wasn’t."

His words hang in the air, a sad truth that neither of you can ignore. The rest of the drive is quiet, each of you lost in your own thoughts. The familiarity of the town lights passing by is a stark contrast to the newfound tension between you. It's clear that things may never be the same again.

“He’s not you Logan,”

I've been here, I've been up all night Thinkin' 'bout a life with you and I

"Look, there's Daddy!" you exclaimed, your voice brimming with joy. Your three-year-old daughter, Daisy, had been waiting for this moment for days. Her constant chatter about her father's impending return had filled the house with anticipation. You had always known, even before you’d gotten married and decided to start a family, that having him away for at least 25 weeks a year wouldn't be easy. It was a sacrifice that came with his job, a reality that you both had accepted.

"There's my sweet girl!" Logan's voice echoed as he climbed out of his truck, his face breaking into a wide grin. His boots crunched the gravel as he walked towards the porch, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the family he had been away from. Upon seeing her Daddy, Daisy looked up at you, her eyes wide with anticipation. With a supportive nod from you, she broke free from your hold, her little legs carrying her as fast as they could towards Logan. His arms instantly enveloped her, lifting her up into a warm embrace. Daisy had always been a daddy’s girl, their bond was undeniable. Seeing them together, their laughter filling the air, made your heart swell with happiness. He turned towards you, his eyes sparkling with affection, "-and my other sweet girl, how are you doing, darling?" He asked, wrapping his free arm around you and pulling you in for a kiss.

"I'm good," you replied. "This little lady right here hasn’t stopped talking about you all week," you said, your fingers gently tickling Daisy's chest, sparking a fit of giggles from her.

"Oh yeah? Is that so?" He asked, his voice full of amusement. Daisy responded by burying her face deeper into his chest, her giggles muffled against his shirt. The sight had you both laughing. "Well, I’m home now so you don’t need to worry," he reassured her, his words causing a wide grin to break out across her face.

"Mommy let me stay up to watch you on the TV. You were going super fast, Daddy!" She spoke excitedly, her eyes shining with admiration. The race had started just before her bedtime. She had insisted on staying up, convinced that her daddy would end up with a shiny trophy if she watched. As usual, she had been spot-on; Logan had indeed finished second.

"I was, and it was all for you, baby girl," he responded, his voice filled with pride. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a Pirelli cap. The silver embroidered ‘2nd’ gleamed in the sunlight as he placed it on her head.

One you'll never know 'Cause you're a small town smokeshow

"Absolutely not, Logan. The answer is no!" his mother declared with a firmness that was rarely seen, effectively putting an end to the months-long discussion. Logan had been tirelessly pleading for a plane ticket to Italy as a gift for his upcoming 16th birthday.

"We should never have let your imagination run wild with this racing car driver fantasy of yours," his father chimed in, shaking his head in disapproval while reminiscing over the countless hours Logan had spent on the karting track.

"But I'm actually good at it. I even got a letter from a professional race team in Italy. They wanna sign me. They sent a scout to the final race last season," Logan retorted, waving the official-looking letter in his hand.

"Logan, you're only 16. We can't just let you travel halfway across the world alone to meet some stranger who sent you a letter!" his mother exclaimed, concern evident in her voice.

"Regardless, I've enrolled you in the Marines. Your training is set to begin in April and that's the end of it. Your mother and I do not wish to hear another word about this. Is that understood?" his father sternly said, clearly drawing the line.

"Yes, sir," Logan replied, his teeth clenched tight in frustration as he walked away. He was resolute in his determination to make it to Italy, regardless of his parents' approval or disapproval.

-----

You know, Pumpkin, when your Momma and I were just about your age, we were already thinking about our future together," her father reminisced as they sat comfortably on the porch, their gazes following the playful antics of her younger siblings.

"I know Daddy, you remind me all the time," She responded, her voice filled with an affectionate smile and a soft laugh that echoed in the warm evening.

"I just believe it's time for you to start considering your own future, Pumpkin. Not too long from now, you'll be settling down, in a lovely house like this one, surrounded by a family of your own," he advised, his words a familiar tune she had heard play numerous times before.

"But what if that's not the life I want?" she ventured to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What? Of course it is…," he returned, his tone one of disbelief, clearly assuming she was joking.

"Oh, I was merely teasing, Daddy," she quickly reassured him, her smile wavering slightly. "What about Logan, though? We've been together almost a year now,"

"That boy isn't what you need...he's got a head full of cotton," her father declared, shaking his head in disapproval.

"He's going to make something of himself, Daddy, I just know it. I've seen him race," she countered, her voice hardening in defence.

"I don't think so, pumpkin...and you deserve someone better. You need a boy who can provide stability and security for you and your future family," he stated, presenting his viewpoint as an unequivocal fact.

Well, I've been here, I've been up all night Thinkin' 'bout a life with you and I

As Logan lay sprawled in his bed, the warm, humid summer air kept him wide awake. His thoughts, chaotic and relentless, sprinted through his mind at an overwhelming speed. Restless, he climbed out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cool floor. He pushed the balcony doors wide open, allowing the faint scent of summer air to waft in. He sat down, the cold metal of the chair a sharp contrast against his skin, and looked out over the vast expanse of dry fields that stretched out behind the house. In the quiet solitude of the night, he found himself indulging in a dangerous pastime - dreaming about what his life might have looked like if you were still a part of it.

"Logan, you've got 5 minutes till you need to be in the car," his team principal, James, called out, his voice echoing as the mechanics bustled around him. Logan merely nodded in acknowledgement, his mind elsewhere as he pulled up the zipper of his sleek, fitted race suit.

"You're gonna do amazing, baby," you said to him, your voice filled with unwavering confidence. His cap sat atop your head, a stark contrast to your soft features. You stood at the back of his garage, cradling his helmet in your arms, the design adorning it being one you had created for him.

"I can only do it with your support, Darling," he replied, his voice muffled slightly as he pushed his earplugs in and pulled his balaclava on. You then lifted his helmet, the protective gear feeling heavy in your hands, and pulled it down over his head. You let him adjust it, making sure it sat snugly and securely. Once he was comfortable, you flipped his visor up, revealing his striking blue eyes. They twinkled with a mix of excitement and nerves, a sight that made your heart flutter. You leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his helmet where his lips would be, and saw a genuine smile reach his eyes.

With a last glance at you, he climbed into the race car, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. As he prepared for the race, he felt the familiar rush of adrenaline. He knew he would give it his all, not just for the win, but for you.

As the engines roared to life around him, Logan's heart pounded in sync with their rhythm. His focus narrowed to the track in front of him, everything else fading into the background. The air was thick with tension as everyone waited for the signal to start.

The moment the flag dropped, Logan hit the throttle, the car speeding forward with a force that pressed him back into his seat. He navigated the twists and turns of the track with precision, his every move calculated and deliberate. Amid the roaring engines and the screeching tires, he found a strange sense of peace.

The race was a blur of speed and adrenaline, but through it all, Logan's mind kept drifting back to you. He imagined your proud smile as he crossed the finish line, the way your eyes would light up. It was that image that propelled him forward, pushing him to take risks and make daring moves.

As he took the final turn and sped towards the finish line, he felt a surge of triumph. He had done it. He had won. But as he slowed down and removed his helmet, his thoughts were not on his victory. They were on you. The thought of you cheering on from his garage, he cleared parc ferme as quickly as he could, heading straight for where his team stood.

As he clambered out of his car and locked eyes with you over the heads of his team, his victory felt all the more sweet. He was surrounded by cheers and congratulations, but all he cared about was the proud smile on your face. It was your unwavering support that drove him, your faith in him that pushed him to be better.

Without breaking his gaze from yours, Logan weaved through the people, shaking hands and clapping backs, but his destination was clear. As he reached the barrier, he pulled off his gloves and reached out for your hand. Pulling you into his sweaty, fire-proof clad body, he whispered in your ear, "This is for you Darlin’." His southern accent slipping back out.

You laughed and pulled away, only to be pulled back in for a deep, passionate kiss. His lips were salty from sweat, but you didn't care. As he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his blue eyes filled with affection and gratitude. "Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

And as the crowd continued to cheer and the cameras flashed around them, capturing their intimate moment for the world to see.

Logan hadn’t even noticed the precise moment when he slipped from the conscious world into the realm of dreams, his dream was so incredibly sweet and comforting that it didn’t matter to him whether he was asleep or awake. So, when he slowly opened his eyes, coming back to reality, and noticed the soft rays of the sun timidly peeking through the dense canopy of the trees, he couldn't help but give a low, amused chuckle to himself.

One you'll never know 'Cause you're a small town smokeshow

"What do you mean you want to leave?" She asks, her voice echoing through the dining room.

"I don't want to stay here forever, Momma. There's a much bigger world outside our town," You responded, my voice steady despite the weight of the words. The room fell silent, with everyone at the long, mahogany table watching your exchange with wide, surprised eyes.

"But that doesn't matter. You'll stay here and marry a nice boy from a good family..." she starts, her voice trailing off when she's interrupted.

"Your Momma's right, Pumpkin. Your family is here, leaving ain’t an option," he interjects from the head of the table. His voice, usually so soothing, now sounds harsh and authoritative.

"But Daddy!" You protest. He is usually the one who indulges your dreams and fantasies, but this time it feels different, colder somehow.

"That's the end of it. You don't see anyone else wanting to leave, do you? Be grateful for what you have," she declares, her tone final and her gaze sweeping over your siblings, hoping to discourage them from getting any similar ideas.

"But Logan left. Why can't I?" You argue, determined not to let the discussion end here. Your will is not so easily broken.

"Do you see how he lives, Pumpkin? Alone in Europe, travelling every other week. It's no life for a young lady like you," he retorts, his stern look signalling the end of the discussion. You rise from the table, tossing your napkin onto the untouched plate before you grab your keys, and head for your car, the sound of your boots clicking against the wooden floor echoing through the now silent room.

Go on and put on that dress that all the bad boys like I know your daddy ain't home so ride with me tonight

"I just can't do it anymore, Logan. I can't bear the weight of the constant judgement or the suffocating expectation to be someone I'm not!" You exclaim in desperation, shutting the door of the car with a loud ‘thud’. The sound echoes in the quiet street as You make your way towards his house, heart pounding in your chest. He stands a short distance away from where He’d been sitting when you’d first arrived, His silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light.

"And what is it that you want?" He asks, his voice calm and steady, enveloping you like a warm blanket on a cold night.

"I...I want to escape from all of this...I want you to take me away with you," You finally manage to say, a soft, hopeful smile spreading across your lips as He approaches. The soft rustling of leaves under his feet is the only sound in the quiet night as his pace quickens, descending the steps of the porch in a hurry. He pulls you into his arms with a swift motion, enveloping you in a warm embrace, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, reassuring kiss.

"Then let's get out of here," Logan’s voice a whisper against your lips..

I hope you enjoyed my first Logan fic...I have to admit I have a bit of a soft spot for him so there may be more to come in the future - E x

#f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #charles leclerc #f1 #f1 x reader #george russell #formula one x reader #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #lando norris #logan sargent x reader #pierre gasly #daniel ricciardo #Spotify

134 notes · View notes

wayfayrr · 7 months

Text

I've been on a little bit of a first kick recently - so here's a first meeting of reader and him based on this piece of the dolls au by @ovegakart (this amazing comic piece in particular) and on the topic of tagging people I've got some new friends on discord who have a love of first so consider this a gift <3 @fanfic-fairy-fountain @dreaming-of-lu @angry-trashcan @neverchecking <333 enjoy!

[masterlist]

“Hello..? Time… Sky… Link? Is anyone there?”

As if being forced into Hyrule wasn’t bad enough when I was with the chain, now that cursed shadow decides to push it even further by separating me from them? Why not just kill me outright… Is it to try to give the heroes hope? Wouldn’t it be worse for them for it to kill me outright than string them along with false hope?

“IS ANYONE HERE? HELLO??”

Where even am I? It looks like… Oh. Alone in catacombs, yeah if there’s anywhere to be killed by a malicious shadowy entity it would be in catacombs. Are there going to be redeads here? If the rest of the monsters are anything to go off of it’s going to be much worse dealing with them now. They can’t handle sunlight though, can they?

Then that means the pile of rubble in the centre here should be the safest place for me to think through the best way to handle all of this. If the shadow really wants to get to me then of course that won’t stop it but I have to try something right? Is sitting on top of what looks like a grave a little disrespectful? Yes. Do I have many options at the minute? No.

“-Wait-!”

WHY IS THE GRAVE SLIDING OPEN - WHAT WAS THAT!? WHY DOES IT SOUND LIKE SOMEONE IS YELLING??

“What… happened? Where is this place?”

I think without a doubt the sound I’ve just made is the most blood-curdling scream I’ve ever let out and - WHY IS HE COVERING MY MOUTH!?

“I’m sorry I know you’re confus- ACK.”

Was biting him the right option? Probably not! But it’s the only thing I could think of to do seeing as well, I'm not exactly calm at this moment in time. Despite the fact that this man has known me for, what, the span of less than a minute, he seems to have at the very least noticed my panic. Backing off like you would with a scared animal - do I really look that petrified? It’s taking everything in me now to not give into my racing heart.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve overstepped your boundaries. But please can you not be so loud?”

“....”

“... yeah. Yeah I can be a bit quieter”

“So you uhhh-”

Where do I even start - this man just - He just crawled out of a grave. What do you even respond to that with???

“...You come round here often?”

[name]. [name] what the heck was that. That's how you flirt with someone at a bar not speak to a living corpse.

“No, I don’t really?”

“Yeah, I figured. I -”

“Are you alright?”

“Look I’m just a bit overwhelmed, I was separated from my group and dropped here then you- You crawled out of a grave and now I’m just?? I’m just stressed and this is only things that have happened today. Now I know that you’re probably more stressed for obvious reasons, but I’m just - I’m sorry for screaming.”

He took a step closer to me at that, not trying to be intimidating, but more cautious. Asking for permission to touch me with an invitingly open outstretched arm, one that seemed to promise some sort of salvation from all the stress I’ve been feeling. One that I was embarrassingly quick to accept. His touch - His hold, is so warm for someone who should really be so cold, there’s definite comfort in feeling his heart beating as well something that proves he’s alive. It didn’t last for long though, as he pulled himself away, reluctantly if I were being bold in how I was to describe it. His fingers lingered, resting on my arm in such a teasingly wanting way. He’s definitely a link thats for sure, that helps me to be more comfortable around him than I would have been with anyone else. He looks like he’s about to start crying.

I - oh god I’m the first person he’s seen since he came back to life.

“Are you alright link?”

Was that the wrong thing to say? He hasn’t introduced himself to me, I shouldn’t have said that. It seems like now it’s his turn to look confused - more so than he already was.

“you how do you know my name?”

“I just guessed, the group I was with before they - well they all looked similar and went by the same name ‘link’ so I just assumed it was the same with you. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“No it doesn’t.” Why is he reaching for my face? He’s got such a soft look on his face, do I remind him of someone? He’s been dead so it could be possible I guess, but it feels like there’s more to how he said it than just something that simple.

“Oh my dearest love...”

His hands are so soft… it’s hard not to just lean into his touch and stay there, but there are more important things to be dealing with right now. As much as I’d prefer to not have these questions answered.

“What do you mean by that link? I don’t - I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

He’s so warm, I hate the fact that he’s most likely going to stop holding me when he realises I’m not the person he’s really ever going to want in a relationship.

“You haven’t but, I can already tell that you’ll be my beloved soon enough.”

“I’m sorry? We’ve only just met how can you tell s- ACK”

This has to just be a link thing. What is it that makes them fall so quickly? But to hold someone so tightly when you've only just met them - when you’ve only just come back from death? That doesn’t seem like a healthy thing for him, not in the slightest.

Is my shoulder wet?

Why would it be wet - he was tearing up earlier and - no there it is he’s sniffling as if he’s trying his hardest not to cry. Even if he’s mildly delusional how cruel would you have to be to not help someone go through something as tough as this clearly is. It’s not hard to gently rub his back as he cries onto me, it’s not hard to hum to him as he clutches me like a lifeline, it’s not hard to be here for him when I have to do so little for him.

“Link? Would you like to talk about it? I don’t know you but - but I’ll be here to listen to you.”

“Thank you. It’s simply that I - I don’t know why or how I got here, It’s simply that I woke up in there after everything then I saw you -”

“[name]”

“[name] and well you know what has happened since. I have to thank you for being here though, there’s something about you, some kind of energy that just feels like a part of myself that I lost. You feel like home to me [name]”

With that last sentence, he burrows his head even further into my neck seeking what I can only guess is comfort. He’s probably just desperate for another person's touch right now, rather than him having fallen in love with me from the briefest interaction that didn’t even go that well. There’s no harm in waiting here with him for a moment though. What could go wrong in this amount of time?

#linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #lu first x reader #lu first #lu x reader #moss✦writes

319 notes · View notes

spriteofmushrooms · 7 months

Note

Hi! I've read your jc's post and I find interesting how you framed jc and jyl's relationship. we don't have one single scene only about them (novel canon), because it's from wwx's pov mostly. So there's a lot of room for interpretations. For example, imo their relationship is almost quite balanced; jyl is much more a mother figure for wwx than she is for jc, because jc has a living mother, a mother he fiercely loves. jyl doesn't need to stress much about jc, because he doesn't give problems. At his worst, jc is a bitch. wwx, at his worst, is a BIG problem. Also the moment when jc says that jyl is the one who has to forgive jzx, not them, it's an important moment Imo, because it gives me the impression that he perceives her as a person and he respects her wishes. I would love to hear your interpretation about them and their relationship!

I agree with you, anon. Also, I've been thinking of this every day since you sent it. Thanks for the obsession.

Jiang Yanli is the only authority figure in Jiang Cheng's life who gently corrects him and encourages him to be better without damning him for having flaws. When Jiang Cheng kicks out Wei Ying, she is the one he knows will help him. She does so, and she encourages him to apologize and put Wei Ying's bed back in his room--which Jiang Cheng, it turns out, has already done. Whenever Jiang Yanli corrects him, he accepts her better judgement and never argues or feels unloved or compared to anyone. Jiang Yanli is, I think, a truly kind person, without whom the household would not survive.

Wei Wuxian tells Jiang Cheng to comfort Mianmian in the cave; and he says that Jin Ling looks like his mother only when he's crying, at which point Jiang Cheng defends and comforts him. I think Jiang Cheng was the one who comforted Yanli, while Wei Wuxian likely tried to distract her. Jiang Cheng can accept his people's negative emotions; Wei Wuxian almost seems to blame himself for them.

Jiang Yanli is the only person that we know Jiang Cheng is comfortable showing his softest side to. Therefore, she must be completely safe. If she teases him, it's gently and without malice; but I don't think she teases him. He privately suggests that Wei Wuxian give Jin Ling his courtesy name; Jiang Yanli shares this because she knows Wei Wuxian would feel loved by this gesture.

When YunmengJiang is in desperate need of allies, respectability, and funds, Jiang Cheng gently rebuffs Jin Guangshan's offer of a rekindled betrothal. He respects Jiang Yanli enough to make her own decision, and he values her more than political gain. She, in turn, trusts him to mean what he says; and I think she knows that Jiang Cheng would have supported her all her life in Lotus Pier if she could not find a love match.

In short, I think they were tied together very closely.

My personal headcanons include that she teaches him how to do non-cultivation things when he's overwhelmed, like cooking and needlework. Before he was old enough to understand why Yanli doesn't cultivate (which I accept CQL's suggestion that she's chronically ill), he tried to help her improve by giving her baby lessons on meditation. I think that Jiang Cheng is a deep well into which secrets can be shared without fear, and I think he was safe for her to express her more filial negative opinions. I think she was the safest person to tell any positive, delicate feelings to.

Baby Jiang Cheng followed her around like a duckling. After she married, he must have visited dozens of times. Through her, Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan were able to understand each other better; as you may have seen in my recent chengning ficlet, I think that happy year ended with Jiang Cheng privately calling him Zixuan-ge.

All she wanted to be truly content was for her a-Xian to come home. Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng tried to make it happen for her. Because who wouldn't want to make her happy?

#pallas.rtf #mdzs #hi anon #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #canon jiang cheng

191 notes · View notes

moghedien · 2 years

Text

Lupe, Carson, and Gaydar

I've joked about the scene when Carson confronts Lupe in the gay bar constantly. It is maybe my favorite scene in the show, definitely the one I’ve rewatched the most, and it's my motivation for writing this. Because while it is an extremely funny scene, and it's very funny that Lupe seemed to be the only one that didn't realize that Carson was gay, I feel like it reveals a lot about their dynamic up until this point. I've made jokes about Lupe having a busted gaydar, because on the surface, sure, but I feel like its a lot more complicated than that.

Ignoring the scene itself for now, let’s start in the beginning-ish. Carson and Lupe don’t really interact all that much in the first episode. The one significant scene they do have is when all of the Peaches are at the bar (not the gay one), and we get the ending of a conversation they’re having. Lupe has apparently told Carson that her dad didn’t want her going there, but she went anyway. Then Carson says that she kinda ran away too. Lupe asks if that’s why she looks so different now (given her recent haircut from Greta) and Carson says she doesn’t look that different. Lupe says she does and then walks away. It's not an unpleasant conversation. There's not really anything negative going on here, and it honestly seems like Lupe is flirting at the end there. Carson doesn't really pick up on that though, and Lupe just sort of leaves and they don't really have any similar interactions after this.

This scene alone shows that while Lupe might not have straight up known that Carson was gay, she was at least willing to test the waters to see if that was a possibility. But even though their interaction here ends well, she never really attempts to flirt with Carson again. There is probably reason for that.

In the second episode, again there isn’t much in the way of interaction between the two of them. However, this is where you can begin to see that they’re in very different worlds. In fact, they’re both living in very different worlds than the majority of their team. First, let’s address Carson, and to explain Carson’s big divergence from the rest of her team, I think Greta actually explained it best.

During Charm School, it's made apparent that Carson is more or less immune to the danger that a lot of the girls are in here. Not only is she not masculine presenting like some of the girls are, she’s married. She’s not a danger to the team’s image, if anything she’s an asset. Because what better way to prove that they aren’t destroying womanhood than to have women who are not only married, but married to men currently serving in the war. Carson isn’t fucking going anywhere. Lupe on the other hand, is at risk, and she seems to know it.

She is trying to smile and give a good attitude and appearance when she's being judged.

While Jess and Fern (the girl who gets kicked out) are joking with Carson, Lupe is taking this all very seriously. You don't see her often in these scenes, but when you do, she's focused. It's almost bizarre when you notice it for the first time.

And then afterward, when they pass and the surviving Peaches are going out to eat, Lupe isn't visibly uncomfortable in the same way that Jess is. Jess is physically uneasy with herself. Lupe, maybe has some of that too, but she seems more to be trying to mentally snap out of something. As if she had to put herself in a headspace that isn't comfortable or easy for her to get out of.

Lupe isn't the only one uncomfortable after Charm School, but she definitely was one of the ones that was, where again, Carson wasn't. Carson was always safe, and she wouldn't have even realized how unsafe the others were if Greta hadn't been blunt with her about it. They are exceptions within their team, but while Carson's exceptions makes her safer, Lupe's puts her in danger.

So let's jump ahead to their first game.

So the very first game starts for Lupe with racism. Not only are they playing on racist tropes in order to get the "customers" interested in her, but they also also have to lie about her to make her more palatable. Her being Mexican isn't appealing and might actually upset people, so the league has decided to make her Spanish instead. This along with the sexism that all of the other girls received from the announcer, is what she's greeted with on her first game.

Now, maybe Carson received some sexist comments too. I'm sure she did to some extent, but she's again, married to a man currently serving at war. I don't think that she would have gotten nearly as much as the unmarried girls, especially since the announcer seems to feel the need to point out which girls are single. And she definitely didn't get any of the racism that Lupe (and probably Esti, though I don't recall a specific instance of that) got while playing. Not to mention that when the girls get their first pay checks in episode 3, Lupe and Esti are the only ones that Bev feels the need to tell this to:

For some reason they are the only two that Bev feels the need to suggest they be patriotic. I'm sure its nothing.

None of this specifically connects their relationship, but it's important background knowledge to keep in your head when looking at the next few episodes. Because this is the world that Lupe is living in when she really starts to see Carson very differently than her initial flirting.

So episode three is where you really start to see the conflict between Lupe and Carson develop, and for the most part it initially just revolves around them independently trying to deal with Dove. No one on the team seems unaware that Dove is an issue, though it seems on a surface level that Lupe doesn’t notice it, given that she appears to just goes along with everything Dove says without question. Even the other girls think that Lupe is “up Dove’s ass” and would rat them out if she knew they were doing secret practices, so they don’t tell her. They all exclude her. Even Esti. Even Jess. And she knows that she’s being excluded from something because she wakes up for breakfast and nobody is there.

Now, the secret practice itself isn’t entirely Carson’s doing. They all came up with the idea more or less together and went along with it, but Carson is the only other one on the team that is seen trying to deal with the Dove problem (outside of Jo telling him something and him lashing out on her). Her initial attempt was to give him a conversation pie. Now to literally anyone with eyeballs who isn't experiencing this show through Carson's point of view, it would look like Carson is sucking up to him. This is after Greta repeatedly made jokes about Dove being her “daddy,” and making Carson reveal that she and Dove have talked privately. So, Carson looks like she’s sucking up to Dove. Not only that, she made him a fucking pie. Can you get more stereotypically conservative American housewife than making someone a pie and then trying to talk to them about some problems you want them to fix.

Let’s talk about Lupe’s reaction to Dove. Lupe is not comfortable with Dove, but like Charm School, she sees it as something she just has to get through. If you think she likes Dove, let’s look at her initial reaction to when Dove gave her the nickname that sticks with her for the rest of the season.

Dove just says a bunch of racist stuff to her face (after indicating that she would be the keeper of his legacy, of course) and then goes on with the interview. Lupe is visibly upset by this, and looks to the other two authority figures that could stop Dove, and she gets told to keep smiling. So she nods, and continues to smile through the interview while Dove strokes his own ego.

Lupe does not like this man. Lupe tells the reporter that she’s just excited to get some in before Dove interrupts her, and reminds them all that they’re here to talk about him. So it's made clear to Lupe that the way to get through this is with Dove. So Lupe sticks with Dove. Early on, maybe she could have been convinced to go against him some, but why would she go against him later on? When the other girls did so, they specifically left her out.

Lupe injures herself doing Dove’s stupid pitch because she’s not given any other way to make it for herself except through Dove, because her own teammates excluded her. There might have been ways to get through to her if they’d tried, but they didn’t. So now Lupe has to double down and stick with Dove’s plans entirely because its the only one.

Now, let’s think of some of the reasons why Lupe might think she has been left out. She might realize she’s “up Dove’s ass.” Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. But Carson made him a fucking pie to butter him up. She’s looks like she's up Dove's ass too and she went to the secret practices. So what else could there be? She’s not the only Hispanic person in the house who’s whiteness and patriotism is actively questioned. Esti went to the practice. And she’s not the only visibly queer person. She is however, the only one that hits all of these "faults." Others might be different, but Lupe is too different. At least, she is if you're someone who would be bothered by different things.

We the audience know that this isn’t why Lupe was excluded. But why would Lupe know that? Especially when Esti eventually outs Carson as the person behind the practices. Regardless of whether or not it's actually her doing entirely, she’s the one that gets pointed to, and you know what, that would just make sense, wouldn’t it.

Little Miss American housewife with the army husband, from a farm in the country excluding Lupe specifically. When Lupe gets injured, Carson is the one that jumps on benching her. Carson seems to be the one isolating her from the team, and is now trying to get her off it. Unlike that first night in the bar, now Lupe would be well aware that Carson is married with her husband at war. That she’s from a farm (not really but ya know). Lupe doesn’t know about Carson’s internal goings on. She doesn’t know about her getting close to Greta or any of the others that might be queer. Lupe sees her own experiences with Carson and has figured out who Carson is: a typical white conservative housewife from rural America that would turn her ass in the second she had a reason to. Genuinely, why would Lupe think anything else of her at this point? She hasn't been able to see any other side of Carson.

So jumping forward quite a bit to when Dove leaves. Lupe has up until this point been doing everything that she was “supposed” to do and gets rewarded by most of the team picking Carson over her as the coach. Lupe was the one that stuck with Dove like management wanted and Carson was the one that lead the coup against him, yet Carson gets rewarded. Wonder why?

This entire time, tensions between them increase. When they’re playing the night game and trying to call out the cheating, Carson gives some stupid speech about what her soldier husband would want. Lupe actually knows the rules and gets something done about it. Carson is given authority because she’s the token white married woman on the team (except maybe Terri but ignore Terri we have no idea if she’s actually married). She’s the safe one. Lupe ticks too many boxes on why she isn’t acceptable despite doing everything right.

Then, we have Greta making things a bit worse.

Here we have Greta just sticking her beautiful birdlike neck in where it shouldn't be in order to try to stick up for her girlfriend. Lupe doesn’t know they’re together or even that they're gay. She probably doesn’t even know they’re friends because of how discreet they've been trying to be. She just sees Greta confirming that she’s known all along. Carson is the poster girl. Lupe is the one that’s too much. After Greta leaves, she angrily and sarcastically asks “Why’s that?” and then beats her hat against the post when Carson leaves. The woman is at a breaking point.

And then the fight happens.

It’s the fucking hick comment that convinced me, really.

Lupe tells Carson that she hasn’t been able to play because of her, because yeah, from where she’s sitting it does look like Carson’s fault. Carson is the one that didn’t include her in practices. Carson is the one that got her benched. Carson is the one that took the job that she was more qualified for. And every single person has sided with Carson against her. Can we blame Lupe for finally having enough? Because even if she’s missing very important context that would explain things some, she has no way of having that context.

And to cap things off, when she finally just has enough and the fight happens, everyone still sides with Carson against her. Carson becomes the full time coach, everyone blames her for the fight, and the only person that eventually somewhat understands what the problem is, is Jess. Even then, that’s only when Lupe explicitly points out to Jess that she’s dealing with shit Jess doesn’t have to think about. And while Jess eventually gets that, she still has more context than Lupe because she not only was included in all of the things that Lupe wasn’t, she also knows that Carson and Greta are fucking. So she knows that Carson isn’t entirely the impression that Lupe has of her.

And now we get to the scene.

Lupe has been through all of this. She has had to deal with this woman for the entire season. Things are finally calming down. Then one night when she’s at a gay bar, where she is explicitly safe from people like Carson, Carson fucking follows her to the bar.

Now this is terrifying. Because while Carson could only argue and complain before, now she caught Lupe doing something no one is supposed to do, someplace none of them are supposed to be. Like, literally, Carson is now a serious danger to Lupe, a danger to Jess, a danger to Lupe’s date, and a danger to the entire bar. It initially seems to Lupe like Carson knows exactly what is going on and is disgusted by it. And if she said something, people would believe Carson. Because they always have before, and honestly, who wouldn’t believe it if Carson outed Lupe?

See I joke about Lupe’s broken gaydar here, because it is funny. Like, literally every other queer person knew something was up with Carson, but none of them were Lupe. None of them had to deal with things that Lupe had to deal with, and none of them were excluded as much as she was. Lupe’s gaydar is broken with Carson because she never had a chance to have any other impression of Carson. And clearly it wasn’t actually broken, because she tested the waters with Carson the very first night in Rockford. It was everything that happened after that made it seem like that initial impression was very wrong.

This revelation that Carson is not only queer, but sleeping with Greta really flips everything for Lupe. Because what she thought she understood as passive aggressive hostility was clearly just Carson being fucking stupid and clueless. And now she’s not the bigot that is gonna turn her in and ruin her life and dreams of pitching, but she’s a little baby gay who didn’t even know that places like this existed. That didn’t know the Jess and Lupe were gay, or what butch means, or that half of the league is gay. Now Lupe's laughing with Jess as they try to explain queer shit to Carson, and that is the first time she really seems comfortable around Carson. Because this is when Lupe realizes that Carson has been excluded from something this entire time that she didn't even know existed.

It's not just that she hated Carson and so assumed that she was straight, or that she learned that Carson is gay and so suddenly likes her. It’s that she didn’t have any reason to believe anything but the worst about Carson, and now she has the context that makes a lot of things suddenly make some sense. And because now, she’s clearly the authority on things that Carson really wants to learn about. Now they actually know each other’s secrets, and they’re shared secrets and it’s found in a place where they don’t have to hide it. This is the first time that Lupe and Carson are instantly on the same page about something.

After this, there’s no real tension between them. It's not so much that everything is ok and fixed. Lupe is still dealing with stuff, it's just clearly not Carson that's the issue anymore. It's not Carson who seems to be doing these things to her. Carson's now one of the few people that's approachable and who Lupe is willing to loosen up and joke with. Whereas before she might have tried to avoid Carson entirely unless absolutely necessary, now she's pulling Carson in to mess with other people and have fun with their ignorance. It's other people that won't know what's going on now.

Now that they share something, it's almost everyone else on the team (and otherwise) that’s excluded from their fun. Now, they’re both actually understanding each other and can work together for the first time.

Now it's not Lupe excluded from the rest of the team, and it's not Carson thinking that she and Greta are alone in their queerness. Now it's all of the queer Peaches having their own celebration together and not letting anyone else in on it. Because as overdone the metaphor is, now they all know they're on the same team.

So, no, I don't think Lupe's gaydar was broken, no matter how funny that joke is or how many times I make it (and will continue to make it). I just think that there was some very understandable interference preventing her from getting a good reading.

____________________________________

Other ALOTO essays:

Queerness, Contamination, and the Neurosis of Shirley Cohen

Greta Gill: Visibility and Isolation

Max in Oz

#a league of their own #carson shaw #lupe garcia #aloto #aloto analysis

2K notes · View notes