#and that got me wondering… am i just wasting my life or something? it’s a new year right? so i should make some lifestyle changes too right?
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Change Part.6
•🎀🩰🩷•
Summary: Y/n is a loner but loves ballet but her family doesn’t have enough money for her to dance at the studio, Daryl is a redneck who hates people and prefers bikes, until one day these two run into eachother and their lives change drastically, will Daryl toughen her up? Will y/n soften Daryl? Or both? How will things go when people start coming back from the dead
Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader
A/n: This is going to be a series, it’s gonna start with how they met eachother and their lives before the apocalypse, eventually it’ll blend with twd story line!!
Part.5
•Masterlist•
It had been a week since the incident with the walker, Daryl refused to let me go out alone again and I didn’t blame him I didn’t want to be alone either it was too risky, it wasn’t just my life in danger, I had a baby to worry about and I refused to leave Daryl alone in a world like this, I rolled over in bed admiring his sleeping form, his hair all crazy, I love him so much and the fact that our family was just about to begin tore something from me that I always dreamed about
“Mornin” he grumbled as I ran my hand through his hair
“Sorry did I wake you?”
“Nah I was up a while ago just waiting for ya”
“Mmmm” I didn’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones or what but my mood was at an all time low and I didn’t wanna drag Daryl down too
“What’re ya thinking about” he asked as he squeezed my hip
“Nothing”
“Angel I know ya like the back of my hand, I know when yer over thinking”
I sighed hating that he’s always been able to crack me out of my shell he shown me time and time again that I can trust him with anything, he’ll we’re having a baby together why shouldn’t I tell him
“Just been thinking where my family are now, I know I haven’t talked to them in like a year but I still wonder if they’re even alive”
“The last time you talked to them they called ya a selfish slut, ya shouldn’t worry about them, all they’ve ever done was hurt ya angel, we got our own family now, one that’ll love ya more than they ever could” Daryl wasn’t much of a big speech kinda guy but when he knew I needed comforting he pushed that side of him away to be there for me
“Yeah I guess you’re right, like usual” I said laughing as he pulled me closer so I could lay my head in his chest
I was sat in the living room curled in a blanket reading the new twilight book hearing the rain patter against the windows, the smell of a roast in the oven that Daryl had put in, right when I got to the part where Edward was leaving Bella the phone rang, Daryl at my side handed it over scoffing at the caller ID
Caller ID: Jackson L/N
“This can’t be good” I sighed clicking answer and putting it on speaker
“Hello?”
“You need to come home” not even a hi or nothing
“Why? None of you have bothered to contact me in months what is it this time?”
“Dad lost his job, mom and dad need money for rent” I could see the anger written all over Daryl’s face
“Jackson I have my own life now, I can’t be helping you guys out ever time you need money, I have bills of my own and I don’t wanna waste my money on people who don’t even care about me”
“Are you serious right now?” He asked enraged
“Why can’t you help, you’re the one that got that football scholarship, I had to work my way through university and I’m still paying off student loans, plus Daryl and I have to pay for our house and car and motorcycle”
“You know what this is done, you’re out of this family for good this time, mom and dad should’ve gotten rid of you when they had the chance you selfish slut” the phone disconnected signalling he hung up
I looked at feeling my chest tighten, I never wanted this I was never the golden child in their eyes, I only ever felt like I mattered when Daryl came into my life
“He’s lucky this was over the phone or I’d beat him into the ground” Daryl groaned rubbing my legs over the blanket
“Why am I never good enough for them?”
“Ya got that wrong Angel, they ain’t good enough for you”
As I sat outside eating breakfast Daryl and Merle got ready for the day, Merle was going to Atlanta with some people from the camp and Daryl was going out hoping to find a deer he’s been tracking for a while
“I gotta go now Angel��� Daryl said as he stung his crossbow over his shoulder
“But I don’t want you to go” I whined getting up to wrap my arms around him
“I know but I’ll be back later this evening just try and stay around the other, don’t want another problem like last week” he said placing a kiss to my cheek
“Fine just promise me you’ll be safe out there, that you’ll come back to me”
“Promise”
He picked up some extra arrows and disappeared through the tree line
“Ya got him wrapped around yer lil finger don’t ya” Merle mocked
“Come on Merle can’t you just be happy that he’s happy, I know you don’t like me much but you’re my family now and I’m yours, plus I’m carrying your niece or nephew can’t we just be cordial for once” I said exhausted from his constant bickering
“Don’t matter ta me ya got knocked up, ya made my brother soft and yer gonna see ya ruined his life” he picked up his weapons and left the camp site leaving with the Atlanta crew
“God when do I catch I break?” I sat back down in the camp chair not noticing someone sit next to me until they talked
“You okay sweetie?” It was Lori
“It’s just Merle, always a pain in my ass, just been thinking about what’s gonna happen now with the baby and everything I’m just scared” I looked at here to see if she’d give me advice but here eyes were wide
“What?” I asked confused
“You’re pregnant?”
“Yeah, I guess we never really mentioned it”
“You know when I found out I was pregnant with Carl, I was a wreck I was young and scared and didn’t know what to do with myself, but the moment I saw him curled up in my arms so little without a care in the world, I knew what I had to do to protect him from harm, everything will be okay” she smiled patting my back
“Thanks, that’s help a bit I just wish it wasn’t in these circumstances”
“How far along are you?”
“About 4 months now, I’ve been taking my prenatals and everything”
“Well I’m always here if you have questions about the baby or changes you go through, but I have to go cut Carls hair”
Something clicked, maybe since this was a new start for Daryl and I and with the baby in this new world maybe I needed a new look, something to liven my spirits
“Umm Lori, would you be up for cutting my hair too!” I asked as I ran up next to her as she walked towards her camp
“I’d love to”
I sat next to Shane as Lori worked on Carls hair, he couldn’t stop complaining but it was adorable
“One day you’re gone wish you had her cutting your hair” Shane said laughing
“Doubt it”
“Trust me Carl, one day you’ll crave to be have these moments again with your mom, it may not seem like it but you will” I said seeing a little smile on his rosy cheeks
“Alright you’re all done” Lori said as she swiped off his extra hair on his shirt
I sat down in front of her as she wrapped a towel around my shoulders
“Alright how short do you want it?” My hair was down to my mid lower back
“How about just below my shoulder”
“That’s quit a chop”
“Well I need it”
She held my hair back and it a split second it was chopped, she straightened out some uneven pieces and it was done
“Well what do you think?”
“It’s really nice Mrs. Dixon!” Carl said with a beaming smile
“Well thank you but you can call me y/n sweetie” he was adorable I hope my child is as sweet as him
“It suits you perfect dear”
“Thank you! I should go clean some clothes done at the quarry, if you need anything I’ll be down there!”
I spent most of the evening down at the quarry cleaning and scribbling mine and daryls dirty clothes, laying them out on some rocks to let them dry, meanwhile dipping my feet in the cool water helping to sooth my ankles that have been getting a bit swollen
I looked around hoping no one was near, I haven’t been able to get a good proper bath in a while so I stripped down my clothes leaving only my bra and panties, submerging myself in the lake floating belly up watching the clouds pass by just like the time Daryl took me here
“Daryl Dixon did you drag me out here just to see me naked?” I asked smirking as he started taking off his shoes and pants
“Come on it’s nice out yer gonna love it” he said as he was stepping into the lake
I bit my lip feeling that thrill shoot through me, I stripped to just my panties and bra, I walked over taking his hand
“Aren’t you going to take your shirt off?”
“Ya sure?” I knew he was embarrassed about his scars but they weren’t his fault
“You know they don’t bother me, I love you for you, not what happen to you” I said squeezing his hand reassuringly
He lifted it over his head and threw it back over to my clothes pill
“Come on Dixon show me how great this’ll be, better not let me drown” I laughed as I dragged him in
“Still can’t believe yer my girl”
“And I’ll be your girl until you’re sick of me”
“Never”
“Well well well what do we have here?” I heard behind me as I pulled on my clothes after drying off
“What do you want Ed?” I groaned feeling that touch of fear he instilled in the women of the camp
“Showing yourself down here for the whole camp, you’re asking for it” he said stepping closer
“Leave me alone Ed”
“Ya ain’t got your man around who’s gonna stop me?”
“Don’t you touch me or you’ll be sorry”
He stepped closer squeezing my jaw now face to face
“Like I said ain’t no one gonna stop me” he said as his other hand started to wander down my arm
Before he could get any further he was ripped away Shane throwing him to the ground
“Touch her or anyone else again Ed and I’ll beat ya to death I swear, come on y/n” I gathered up all the clothes I washed and ran to Shane’s side as he lead me safely back to the camp
“Thanks, I didn’t know anyone was around”
“Ain’t your fault, Ed’s one sick man you stay away from him, stay with the group until Daryl or Merle gets back”
I sat down next to Amy folding up the laundry still to shaken up to have conversation that’s when a car alarm was ringing around the quarry, the group was back and it felt a little better knowing Merle would be here while Daryl was gone, Shane shut off the car alarm and others filtered out of a cargo truck
Lori and Carl had their moment with their “back from the dead” father and husband which was incredibly heart warming but then I realized something
“Where’s Merle?”
Please please please give me some ideas for this story going forward🩷 How should I incorporate the ballerina story line into the new world??:)
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#twd fanfiction#daryl dixion imagine#twd daryl#daryl dixon#twd x reader#daryl dixion smut#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon twd#daryl dixon smut#daryl x reader#daryl imagines#daryl fanfiction#the walking dead daryl#daryl x female reader#daryl x you#daryl x y/n#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon fluff#twd season 1#the walking dead series#daryl dixon series
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Noisy little mess
Hi sweetie ⁓
Here we are, it's finally monday and we can hope again in having a good, productive week (please let it be a sunny one too I can't hibernate in April I need my photosynthesis).
I'm wondering what do you think of this little work of mine, so if you feel like it you can write me whatever comment/question/any various and possible magical shit.
Have a good chocolaty day ⁓
DISCLAIMERS: little bit of touching and hints about sub/dom relationship! Finally my kinks are emerging! (evil laugh); Ghost-who-needs-to-make-peace-with-his-brain x Reader-who-needs-to-learn-how-to-shut-up; "How to be a psychologist without a degree" (by John Price); embarassing mission I hope does not exist in reality, but i needed it for plot's sake; little bit of wounds and scars (Doc.'s gonna tie you and Ghost up to a chair for the rest of your life); yelling and fighting and arguing (you're used to it by now).
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Fourth part here:
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«Why the hell you've let her-»
«MacTavish»
Price swallows through the smoked breath, clenching his fingers around the consumed cigar just to distract himself from the willingness to punch a wall, or the Sergeant's face.
«I've already had Ghost yelling at me for half an hour. Spare me»
«Then explain yourself, Cap.»
«I can't. I've no explanation. She'd done it by herself»
«She's no insubordinate»
«Not in that sense». He sighs. «I told her no. I knew it was too much for a rookie». He chews the extinguished cigar for a while, taking his time. «Laswell agreed. But that goddamn girl managed to convince Kate, somehow»
«How come?»
«Dunno. But she's already feeling bad enough, and she was the one who's got to rescue the girl»
«Laswell?? Ye serious?»
Price nods, eyes locked at the door in front of them. The doc entered almost one hour ago.
«And» Soap dares to ask «is Laswell…uhm…»
«She's ok» the Captain anticipates him. «Nothing broken. But the rookie…». He sighs again, scratching the bridge of his nose, pushing lightly his digits on the eyes. «I don't like soldiers wasting their lives like this. Especially good ones»
«The mission had to be done anyway»
«We could have waited for a better plan»
He takes a last chew on the cigar, spitting it on his glove before squeezing the leftover crumbles in his fist. He throws everything in a trashcan, then gazes at Soap.
«We've got shit to do, Sergeant. We'll come to check her later»
«They've done something bad to her». That wasn't really a question, even if Soap hopes to be wrong. «Am i right?»
«What came up in that bloody lil' head of yours?»
Three gunshots in your arm (the right one, 'cause luck kicks you in the ass as always), one blade wound and various bruises, just to complete the masterpiece. Doc sent you out of the bed with a promise: to try to not touch the medications.
One in particular.
You didn't even want to eat, but you need to. So breakfast has started, with chocolate scent, closed stomach and two pairs of gaze on your red face. You've tried to avoid contact with every human being in the base, but someone's got a good sense of smell for you. And you eventually end up with Soap and Gaz surrounding you with their (legitimate) questions.
You're blushing like hell, stirring oatmeal crumble in the mug with your eyes drowning into it.
«…I've thought…i could be helpful»
«You're a brave kid, but that was-»
«Stupid» Soap ends the sentence. «To say the least». He finishes his coffee in a sip, swallowing the hot liquid in a rush. «It wasn't a rookie's work, ye should've known»
You nod in embarrassment. «I did know»
«Then why?»
«'Cause…» you swallow, burying your eyes more into the mug, scratching the cuticles skin out of the nails. «…a girl was required. For the mission»
«Hold on» Gaz grabs your shoulder, lowering his voice. It was a confidential subject, not the one to speak about in a crowded dining room. But he keeps on with his curiosity anyway. «It was about weapons traffic, wasn't it?»
You nod.
«Then why a girl?»
You're about to answer, your mouth's already open even if you're not sure if filling them with a temporary lie, or just spit the truth.
Another sudden press on your shoulder takes you off from every doubt.
A big hand grabs you firmly, squeezing skin and bones underneath your uniform. Your body instantly shivers, tightening under the hold. You raise your head a little, but you know whose mask you're gonna jump into.
Ghost has the magical power to bring back the silence. He doesn't even have to speak, just a glare of his is enough. His look hits Soap and Gaz as to say: shut your bloody mouth; and they just roll their eyes at the ceiling, as to say: but we wanna know 'bout her mission, damn it.
Then he lowers on you just that tiny bit that's needed to let you feel his body heat closer, so warm against your cold limbs.
«Your presence is required» he says quickly, almost murmuring against your ear.
And here you are, walking behind his massive figure with eyes lowered on the ground, following his feet at a security distance through the base. He stops a couple of times to talk with someone, moments in which you play camouflaging with the wall; then you two reach a door, and you're so into not-seeing in front of you that you don't even look at where you are.
He closes the door behind you, and only after a few seconds of embarrassment you find the bravery to mumbling:
«W-who required me?»
«I do»
Your heart skips a beat before your ears could collect his voice and your synapsis could elaborate its meaning. That's when you suddenly raise your sight, finding him clinging on the desk while looking at you through the mask, and even if you can't see his face it's pretty clear that he's judging you. You can read it on the skull, as there's an imaginary -but very perceptible- neon writing saying: You're a bloody stupid gnome.
Voice escape through your lips automatically: «I'm sorry»
«'Bout what?» he kinda calls you out, pressing with his sternness on your pathetic whimpers.
Your eyes lower again.
«…causing trouble-»
«Just that?»
You nod. You don't wanna talk about what kinda trouble; but he does.
«Take off your shirt»
Your brain flashes a sudden error signal, allowing you to shiver and wrap your arms tight around yourself.
«…sir?»
Stupid question. You know why he's asking, the goddamn doctor had probably told him.
«Your shirt» he repeats, not moving from his place.
Two days ago, you would have started a war about this, yelling at him without regrets, brave enough to fight against your superior like two children between one small bucket.
Not now. Now you just stand in your special spot in the office, allowing your body to move just what is needed to breathe, eyes locked on the floor. You feel him growing impatient, sighing through the mask as you're disappointing him.
«'K. If that's so…»
The sentence remains hanging in the air, and in a matter of seconds, without getting aware of how fast he came toward you, his hands are on your shoulder. You instantly panic but you're too small to fight against his weight that's pushing you against the door, pinning you still with an hand on your breastbone while the other runs to your shirt's hem.
You grab his wrist in a stupid attempt at stopping him, but he lifts the shirt up in one movement, revealing bruises, a bloody bandage, and…a little scar slightly under the belly button, fresh from the oven and still shiny from some medical gel: the writing made out of fire burns on your skin in an elegant gothic style.
He stares at it, contemplating that swallowed piece of tattooed skin. Your face becomes so red you could spontaneously combust in this exact moment.
«Who made it?» he burst out, whispering harsh words.
You swallow hot air, digging your dry throat and hoping that whatever's gonna come out of your mouth will be the most sensible as possible.
«It's…it…traffic wasn't just 'bout weapons»
«Humans» he talks over immediately.
You nod your head, specifying with a swallow: «women»
«You've sneak in as a good to be sold»
«There was no other way to-»
«And they've marked you» his voice's not that high, but you're whispering enough to make it easy for him to have the upper hand on you. You become quiet, avoiding his sight, with your hands still wrapped around his wrist.
«Are you proud?»
The question wasn't expected, spitted roughly through his mouth. You clench your digits, digging in his gloves.
Then you nodd.
«Yes» the answer is a breath, warmth by your boldness and the consciousness that you've done what had to be done. And none would have taken that awareness from you. You eventually lift your sight a little, meeting his mask, letting the skull shape fill your eyes.
«Yes, I am»
You know he's looking at you as if he's got an idiot under his sight. You feel him judging, investigating your behavior, interrogating your posture. And you, trapped between a scary giant and a door, with his cold glove pressed where your belly still hurts, you dare to stare at him for one whole minute.
It seems enough: he lets you go, shaking your hands away from his wrists as he stands in all of his height against you.
«Good soldiers come home alive, little gnome»
«…it's a curious scolding from one who lives a dangerous life»
«I've already told ya: you don't know me»
«But i'm neither deaf nor blind»
«Buy a bloody mirror then». He takes two steps back, letting you breathe freely for the first time since you've entered the room. «Ya can say you see us clear, but speaking of seeing yourself…I can't say the same»
«I know me»
«It seems not»
Blood starts to rush to your brain as the embarrassment turns into a mixed spoonful of anger and bitterness. You follow him, still at security distance, toward his desk. «Why? 'Cause you've caught me touching myself once and I made one bloody moan?»
«'S not that, and we've already talked enough 'bout it» he mumbled, pretending to not pay attention as he looks through some documents on the table.
«Oh, oh sure! Now we've talked enough about it» your arms end up crossing on your chest. «after you've ripped my elbow»
«It was just a nerve»
«Judicially irrelevant»
«Shut your bloody mouth»
«Why? 'Cause you've told me s-»
«Yes»
You freeze; that was a cold, hard stone order. He's got his knuckles clenched on the table, his back's muscles are visibly breathing under the pressure of maintaining a glint of calm.
«You» he turns at you, pointing a finger at your freezed face «you are a goddamn idiot, one of the worst species. I've tried to convince myself you weren't actually so stupid but, damn god, was i right in the first place»
Guilt assaults you with a knife at your throat, for reasons you don't know. And you find your eyes lower, your spirit evaporated, your anger extinguished under his glare. You try to mutter:
«I've just done my duty-»
«You threw away your life»
«The mission had to be done, that was our last possibility to catch that damn illegal traffic» you rush, raising your voice to grow some confidence in your speech «Laswell needed a woman and i just did my damn work!»
And he almost barks back, raising stern and furious eyes at you: «than what 'bout asking someone more experienced, you bloody asshole?!»
«'Cause it was needed a woman with-!». You suddenly stop, biting your inner cheek as a last word slips, almost like a whisper, through your lips: «…inclinations»
He's left speechless for a while, standing in front of you with the finger still hanging toward your figure. You swallow; you know he's going to ask more, and that's just 'cause you can't keep your mouth shut.
As if you've called it, he spit out a terse: «Explain»
You sigh. This would be a great time to sink ten meters underground.
«I» you start gesticulating, drawing figures in the air with your hands «I am…i-»
You expect him to joke about your incapability of connecting two words together; but he remains silent, looking at you almost with curiosity. And you're forced to keep on talking.
«…I like certain things people don't usually…agree to do» you force words outside your mouth, with cheeks on fire and eyes buried on the pavement.
His conclusion wastes no time to come:
«You're a submissive»
It's not a question, it's a truth and it hits you like a brick in the face, as if he'd already understood your particular nature till the beginning. There's no need for more explanation: you know what kind of submissive he's referring to, and he evidently knows just enough about the subject to grin, just a little, under the mask.
«The target was known for his…peculiar sexual tastes». The additional clarification was not necessary, but he gives it anyway. He let out a soft chuckle, almost like he's having fun thinking about it. «I can't believe that Laswell really rely on this stupid trick»
You would really clarify how much Laswell fought against your will to volunteer for that risk, but your voice is gone under the embarrassment. Your digits are digging into cuticles again, and you're about to pretend to not exist, turn your heels and just go away.
And you don't even notice he's got closer again, till he forces your face up by roughly grabbing your cheeks in one hand.
The disappointment is palpable.
«You've run into that perv's den alone, risking yourself for a mission you knew you couldn't handle…just to satisfy your throbbing cunt?»
That hit you worse than every other thing he's thrown at you till now. Your cheeks catch fire in his hands, guilt choke air in your lungs and poisonous butterflies eat your stomach, whispering through the entrails: he's right.
But you don't want him to be right.
«I've just decided to put every weapon I've got at your service» you spit out.
His grip gets tighter. «Sure thing. And what have you gained? Apart of a saving operation that wasted everyone's time, of course»
«Mission was completed»
«We would have found another way to do it, rookie»
«But I did it» you grab his wrist, trying again to escape from his hold. «And i'm alive, so why the hell are we even talking about-»
It happens all of a sudden: he pushes you again against the door, harder and roughly enough to make your spine squeak on it. You hold a yell, and one second after you can't breathe anymore.
He holds you by your mouth, pushing on your face with his whole hand open, while the other runs down right under your belly, squeezing on your crotch like it's made of play dough.
«This is no playfield». His voice is almost a growl murmur in your ear as he lowers enough to overcome you with his bigger body. «Soldiers have morals. And dignity. Maybe 's not clear to your pretty little brain. So: watch» and he speaks slowly, growling coldness with tongue maid of sharp metal, his eyes on you with that goddamn mask supply (and you're sure you're gonna dream about his sight forever) «your. Bloody. Mouth. Kitty»
The nickname, the grip on your pants, the fact that you're breaking your personal apnea record…just burn your brain. And, in a loss of breath, trying so desperately to find a way out of that embarrassment while freezing your hormones that are already running too low on your body…
You bite him.
You sink your teeth in his glove as hard as you can, ripping off that goddamn dignity he was speaking about, letting the residual rage work as a fuel for your mouth. He suddenly jerks with a step back, catched by surprise, tearing his hands away, and to do so…he pushes with the other hand on your lower belly.
On your goddamn freshly engraved and barely healed tattoo.
On the scar the doc pleaded with you not to touch.
You spit his glove out of your mouth, yelling like your vocal chords have turn into a megaphone.
Ten minutes later, you two are waiting outside of the infirmary.
The knock on the door doesn't distract him, too focused pretending to find his paperwork attractive.
Price gets in without invitation.
«Just a word» he sits at the desk, usual hat at his place and cigar climbing from his lips «between me and you»
Ghost doesn't lift his sight.
«I've talked with doc-»
«I don't need to be scold 'bout it, if that's what ya'r here for»
Price sighs a low, maybe a little bit too paternal: «Ghost-»
«If you two» Simon raises his voice a little «believe in trusting every goddamn rookie, sending them risking their bloody neck just 'cause they've told you how good they are at shaking their ass-»
«You've already yelled about it, give my ears a rest. In any case, Laswell made the best choice in her position» Captain talks over him. «And I agree with her. We couldn't lose that opportunity, Simon»
«She didn't even managed to end the mission alone»
«But the rookie did a great job. Only problem was taking her out of that shit»
«You can't seriously call a kink exploitation one "great job"»
«She's a soldier. We're not here to babysit, risking our life 's part of our contract»
Silence.
Price starts to get nervous, feeling some mixed emotions that he really can't stand at six in the evening. He suddenly stands up, patting both hands on the desk, taking a deep breath before exhaling a long, almost exhausted:
«There's nothing bad in making friends with your allies…»
Ghost is already rushing an "i don't need friends" kinda sentence, but Price anticipates him:
«Me too, i've made friendships on the battlefield that i hope will last as long as my bones will walk on the dirt. Then, we could die together and be happy in whatever hell God'll decide to send us. But» and his "but" was final «i know what you're doing here. Stop it. It's gonna be draining, for the both of you»
Ghost spits out: «I'm doing nothin'», too rushed, then muttering: «Don't even like her»
«I don't care who you like. You can marry whoever you want, you've got my approval»
«For fuck's sake Price-»
«Wanna delete her from your eyesight? Just look straight in front of you from now on. Wanna keep an eye on her?» John raises his hands, throwing Ghost's embarrassment in the air while admitting with the most honest attitude: «Sure. Ok. I keep an eye on you all every goddamn minute of my life. She's not a princess, though. And ya'r not a bloody knight»
Silence becomes again the king in the office. Price is still fixed in his extreme openness, ready to give his Lt. the best suggestions on how-to-not end up again at the infirmary with that goddamn rookie (before the doc kills the both of them).
Then Ghost finally raises his gaze.
And Price has a bad s-.,ensation in his guts, almost like he'd said something he shouldn't have.
«Keeping…an eye on her» Simon repeats, lost in thoughts.
John nodds, hesitating before leaving the office.
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#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty#cod#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod fanfic#fanfiction#writers on tumblr#ghost x reader#ghost x you#johnny soap mctavish#kyle gaz garrick#john price#writing dialogues is so funny#Price is basically becoming more and more the pscyhologist of the team#Task Force 141 is a close team of gossiper#don't know if ou've already noticed but i don't know shit about miitary life#it will be something more spicy sooner or later#for now just hints about sub/dom relationship
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there’s a non-non-zero chance of success though… _(:3 」∠)_
#long depressing rant in the tags incoming ig? take warning!!#maybe it’s bc it’s 3am and i’m tired or maybe it’s bc of the 8-9 hour old fried vermicelli that i just gave up on eating but my head hurts~~#or maybe it could even be bc i spent like 3 hours unpacking my boxes (note: my fam moved last month) instead of chilling like i wanted to…#either way i saw some things while unpacking that i really should’ve left in the distant past and i’m feeling as empty as my stomach pre-米粉#though i did uncover a dogtag i had engraved years ago with nothing but a ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) on it so that was pretty funny#but other than that… i remembered all the weird things i had given up on in the past via the things i unearthed…#like cooking! i unpacked this huge 1k+ page thick cookbook thing and remembered that i had a phase where i liked to cook#then i remembered that i had mistaken salt for sugar while making some meat dish with a ton of soy sauce and byebye cooking confidence :(#and to add to that i also read a past essay of mine about my culture and i remembered my grandma and i. yeah.#and i also saw stuff from my old hobbies that i had to give up on due to money/time constraints and i just. yeah.#and not to forget all the stuff from my former friends… i swear i always get ghosted the moment we affirm that we’re friends lol#am i a walking maxed social link or something? lol? yeah i have no irl friends. none.#i’ve gotten used to it though~ i don’t mind having no friends. it leaves me with more time for myself and my sleep~#it’s just that… sometimes i get the urge to hop over the country border for some ~chewing gum~ shopping… but there’s no one to go with lol#or like when i see interesting-looking events going on at local attractions but there’s no one to check it out with… or something.#and that got me wondering… am i just wasting my life or something? it’s a new year right? so i should make some lifestyle changes too right?#…and so i bought a hairdryer for the first time a few days back. yeah. that’s enough change for 1 year. lol#who needs friends when you can have a nice warm hairdryer? blast away good pal!!!!!!!!!!!!#anyways yeah. that’s my 3am rant of the day. sorry if you read this lol#sunday’s 🧂saltfest🧂#h e lp i forgot to disable rbs on this for a bit i hate 3am brain smmmm </3
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#i had a really good energy day. i was awake at 8 in the morning and hung out with my mother in law from 10 to 4#we went shopping and got food and it was a really good day#but it wasnt enough. the moment i got home i realized how tired my body was and i took two naps#i woke up from my last nap over an hour ago and i still feel like im in a twilight state of consciousness#im so tired but my dream was ao vivid and real despite being nonsensical that it freaked me out and i dont want to go back to sleep#but im also so emotionally fragile and cant watch videos without something making me want to cry#im supposed to go on my honeymoon in two weeks to disney world. objectively not a good place to go with low energy and weak muscles#but i wanted to go back so bad and didnt want to keep putting it off since i might be like this forever#yet the idea of me getting this exhausted each day is making me wonder if im wasting our money and that we wont have fun bc of me#like this was the best day energy wise ive had in almost a year and i feel this awful now. how am i supposed to last a week at disney?#we've been spending 3 years waiting to have money and time for our honeymoon#ugh. im not ok. i just want a new body so i wont feel like im dying every other day#im just hoping that we chose a good time to go to avoid crowds as much as possible to reduce the chance of getting covid#bc i cant just keep waiting for covid to be gone to do things. i can mask but i cant stay home almost all the time anymore or else i will go#insane#i want to just live life and not constantly worry about getting covid from going to a store but i also dont know whats wrong with me#and wont see my specialist until december so i dont want to get really sick and mess up my health even more#i havent gotten covid yet though so hopefully that will continue. triple vaxed and it seems to be working for me#i'll still be careful though but i hope i have the energy to have fun bc these past 3 years have been trying to kill me with trauma
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In my life (I love you more)
Part 2 of Say Something (Alternate ending)
Summary: Navigating pregnancy is an adventure on its own, but doing it with your recently divorced ex-husband is on a whole new level. But maybe it's the perfect opportunity to find your kinship once again.
Word count: 8.3k
Tags: Female reader, established relationship, ex-wife reader, reader is an architect, cheating, smut, pregnancy symptoms, pregnancy sex, fingering and oral sex, lactation kink (briefly), chilbirth (not descriptive), lots of fluff, open ending, happy ending, not beta read
Relationships: Lewis Hamilton x Reader
Notes: Again, sorry if it's rushed or something, I was just going with the flow. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx
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It’s different getting settled on your new, divorced life, and with a baby on the way. You kept trying to establish a new routine in your new place, while going over and over on what to do in your head.
You knew you were keeping the baby, because that’s something you always wanted. And for a few weeks, you weren’t sure if you would tell Lewis.
Then, you started thinking about going through the pregnancy alone, which you knew you couldn’t do. Then you thought if, god forbid, something happened to you during childbirth, if you died, who would take care of your child? What would happen to your baby? But also, you got lost in thoughts about the future, about the kid not having a father growing up, about your kid finding out you had hidden them from their father. You wasted only a couple of weeks until you made up your mind.
You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night keeping something like this from your ex-husband.
That’s how you were a little over twelve weeks when you finally sent Lewis an email. You could’ve called or texted him, but you were only willing to talk in person.
I’m not sure if you’re interested in hearing anything from me now, but I urge you to come meet me this Saturday at 11 am. I have some important things to talk about with you.
Attached, you sent him the address of your new home. It was a complete shot in the dark, adding the fact that he never replied to your email, you were unsure if he was gonna show up.
Hugging yourself inside your winter coat, you wondered if you did right by inviting him to your home. But then again, you didn’t want to have this conversation in public and risk Lewis being recognised.
You made tea and were waiting outside on the porch when he finally showed up, right on time.
God, he was easily the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, still. He was dressed in a dark blue coat, and simple cargo pants. He stopped when he saw you, visibly emotional.
“Hi, lo- Y/N” he almost slipped up.
“Hi, Lewis. I’m glad you came,” you whispered with a small smile.
You were just as stunning as the day Lewis saw you for the first time, beautiful skin, sweet smile and the kindest eyes.
“What happened? Do you need help?” He asked, and you just shook your head, with a small smile, and he added “you look so content. So different from the last time I saw you.”
“I am, Lewis. Still adapting but I really am,” you gestured for the house, you started walking, “come on in. It’s cold outside.”
You two entered, and removed your shoes by the door, getting comfortable.
“I need to tell you something, Lewis.”
“Is it about the divorce? You know I would come back to you whenever, you just need to say the word and I ca-”
As he started rambling, you just removed your coat, showing your little baby bump, now starting to show. Lewis stopped talking abruptly. He was shocked, jaw slack as he stared from your face to your belly a couple of times.
“I’m dreaming,” he turned around, slapping his own cheek as if to wake up.
“I’m pregnant, Lewis.”
Lewis turned around again, taking in your figure. You were wearing those elegant pajama sets you’d always wear whenever you wanted to feel comfortable at home, but the shirt was hugging your figure tightly, specifically around your middle, displaying the baby bump.
He felt a lump on his throat. He had dreamt of this throughout your relationship, but even more after he lost you. Lewis would dream of you and your family almost everyday, waking up crying over what his mistake cost him.
But now, now you were right in front of him, pregnant with his kid.
You mistook his silence for confusion, so with a heavy heart, you said:
“The baby is yours, but I don’t mind if you want to take a paternity test. I know it’s been a few months with no contact, so I understand if you have doubts ab-”
“No, no! I believe you- I do!” He interrupted your turn to ramble, “I guess I’m just a little bit shocked.”
There’s a brief, awkward silence as you two stood there. Lewis was staring at you so intently, so in awe that it made you squirm, so you walked further inside, going to the kitchen to leave your cup of tea, now empty by the sink. Lewis still walked after you, still looking at you like you had hung the moon or something.
“You’re stunning, Y/N. Just how I imagined you would be when pregnant.” He whispered. You felt yourself blush with the open compliment.
“Thank you, the morning sickness is dying down now, so I’m feeling much better these past few days.” You told him.
Someone rang the doorbell, and you went to check followed by Lewis. You opened the door to your new neighbor from down the road. He greeted you quickly, and handed you a small box full of cherry-tomatoes.
“Oh, thank you so much, James! You’re a lifesaver!” You waved at him, as he got in his car and drove away.
Happily skipping back to the kitchen, you washed and put the cherry-tomatoes on a plate, seasoning it with a little bit of salt and pepper. You ate the cherry-tomatoes raw, only after the second bite, noticing Lewis was still there, even more confused.
“Who’s that guy?” Lewis pointed to the door. He didn’t like the idea of other men coming to visit you. Especially that James guy who looked at you as if you were the most beautiful goddess to grace the earth. Well, you were the most beautiful goddess, but still, only Lewis looked at you like that.
“He’s my neighbor down the road, a couple of kilometers down. Him and his mom have a small plantation of fruits and vegetables. I told her I was craving cherry-tomatoes and she kindly sent them to me,” you said, taking another bite right after, “this is the best I’ve ever had. So fresh!” You exclaimed, eating a couple more.
Lewis looked at you, giddy with your little cherry-tomatoes, and he felt something in his chest expand. He smiled at you, looking so happy and healthy. The last two images he had of you were, you miserable around the house in Monaco, and the other was of you making love with him so passionately but so sad. The last time he touched you intimately, and lovingly, it was painfully obvious it was a goodbye to you, but to him it had been a chance, he had let himself be blinded by hope.
He had so many questions about the pregnancy, about how you had been feeling and what you wanted to do that he couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. Still, he took a deep breath and just said:
“Have you been having lots of weird cravings?” He asked, staring at you, still munching on the cherry-tomatoes.
“I’ve been craving fruits a lot this past week, the other day I wanted green mango with salt, but it’s so hard to find tropical fruits around here!”
Lewis grabbed his phone and texted Kevin, one of his assistants, telling him to find fresh mangoes anywhere as fast as possible.
“How are you? How are you feeling?” He put the phone away, eyes focused on yours.
“In regards to health, me and Peanut are completely fine. I’ve been really sleepy, taking naps all the time…”
“Peanut?” He smiled, eyes shining to the little nickname.
“So, the first craving I had was so bad I spent three days eating anything with peanuts. People have some really creative recipes on the internet.” Your words made Lewis laugh out loud, that one giggle that you had not heard in months. One laugh that used to make you so happy, “but really, we're fine. I’ve had some doctor visits now.”
“That’s good. I told my family about our divorce. Mum tore me a new one.” He gave an awkward smile.
“I know, she called me to apologize.” You let him know. You were still in touch with his mom, not having the heart to cut her off.
“Hey,” Lewis leaned in, his expression serious again, “I know I failed you in our marriage. But I won’t fail you in this pregnancy, ok? I want to be there every step of the way, if you allow me to.”
“I know, Lewis. I never doubted you would,” you sighed, pushing the plate away. You always knew Lewis would want to be there for you and his kid, “I just- I’m sorry it took me a while to reach you. I was confused and overwhelmed, heartbroken, everything at once, and I had to comprehend what I wanted to do. In the end, I couldn’t allow my baby to grow up without a father, and I know you will be a loving one.”
“Thank you, I hurt you so deeply, just- Thank you for letting me know about Peanut.”
“I know it will be difficult to get over our problems and the divorce, but I was hoping we could co-parent, as friends,” you told him.
“Whatever you want, I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I’m aware that's not how we planned things to go…” your eyes were wet with unshed tears, sometimes you still mourned the future you had with Lewis before, “... But we can do it, right?”
“We can do it. Peanut will be so happy.”
He was so sure, so confident, that it gave you a weird sense of security, knowing he will be there no matter what, knowing Peanut would have a loving father. It was a huge weight lifted from your shoulders, and now you could just focus on trying to go through a safe pregnancy.
“Tell me about your routine, how are you adapting here?” Lewis stood up, looking around.
You told him how you had reduced your work hours, to only work during the mornings, usually finishing up around noon, then you had lunch, then if you had any errands to run, you’d go to the city, then prenatal yoga class, and doing your hobbies the rest of the day.
While you were explaining your routine, you went to the pantry and got cat food out, your new companion showing up, meowing.
“You got a kitten.” Lewis pointed out.
“That’s Olive. I’ve always wanted one,” you said as if he didn’t know it, your fingers scratching behind her ears. Your voice didn’t have any malice, but Lewis’ own blame made your words feel like a jab.
“I know.”
Lewis stared at the fluffy gray cat. You had always talked about how growing up you had a cat that passed away when you were around fifteen. You had mentioned adopting a new one a lot after you got married, and still, Lewis never felt inclined to support the idea, he thought you two already had Roscoe, who you had to leave with a caretaker most of the time. He just thought you two wouldn’t have the time for another pet. It made something inside him burn with shame seeing that now that you were divorced, you finally got the little pet you always wanted.
You kept talking, telling Lewis how your parents are constantly traveling here to keep you company on weekends, and how you had been changing a few furniture, because you bought the house already furnished, but you wanted it to feel more like you, including a flowerbed by your porch. How you met a couple of neighbors, and how you had been exploring Edinburgh’s museums and galleries at least once a week.
It hurt him hearing about how you were moving on, meeting people and places, buying things and making plans when he was still stuck in the past. He was still wishing every morning he would wake up in your arms again, how he would share one big cup of coffee with you in the mornings, how he used to hold you in silence for a good 20 minutes after you woke up because you don’t like talking as soon as you wake up. How you would peck his lips every time he had to pack a bag to leave. How he would kiss your ring finger every time before he hopped in the car for a race.
Now he would walk past your office, and your work supplies weren’t there anymore, and the furniture didn’t have charcoal stains anymore, and the house didn’t smell like your tea and the bedsheets didn’t smell like your strawberry body scrub and shower gel thing.
Lewis spent the day with you, chatting like you were just two friends catching up. There was still a lot of baggage none of you wanted to touch just yet, so you just brushed past any awkward silence, and distant, cold chatter. It took a couple of hours to feel fully comfortable with each other. You had seen Lewis as the love of your life for so long it was mind boggling now having to put him in a “friend” category.
He left by the end of the afternoon, after leaving dinner ready for you.
“Will you unblock me?” He asked, getting ready to leave. You laughed but nodded, “You can text me anything. If you need something, anything really, call me or text me, yes?”
“Will do, Lewis. I’ll text any pregnancy updates too,” you walked him to the door, “Oh, wait! I forgot something.”
You went back inside scrambling into your purse for the sonogram image you had gotten the last doctor visit. You went back and handed it to Lewis. His eyes shone with tears as he understood what it was. He ran his thumb through the picture, tears falling down his cheeks.
“Oh, wow. That’s my baby.”
You noticed how Lewis was still wearing his wedding band, and your chest constricted a bit. You knew more than anyone that it would take some getting used to remove the ring as you were still getting used to not wearing yours, but you had forced yourself to leave it behind. You wondered if Lewis had gotten rid of it after the divorce was finalized.
“Can I- Can I tell my family about the baby?” He asked you, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.
“Yes. Tell Carmen to call me after you tell her.” You smiled softly at him.
He stared from the picture to your belly, your small bump.
“Wanna touch?” You offered, and he smiled.
“Only if you’re ok with it,” he muttered. You nodded, raising your shirt up.
You pulled his wrist, placing his palm against your stomach. His hand was warm, calloused as you were used to feeling them on your body. His thumb moved up and down, caressing your bump and raising goosebumps in your skin. It took him a full minute to let go, like it was physically painful to leave.
“Take care, yeah?” He told you, walking away.
“You too.”
You went back inside after locking the house, the sun was already setting as you sat down to eat the dinner Lewis prepared. He had promised you to come back in a couple of days after his work commitments.
The next morning, you were working when the doorbell rang, and it was a delivery guy. He handed you a box and left. You opened it on the kitchen counter, and it was full of fresh mangoes and a small note.
“Anything you need. -L”
Lewis came back three days later, letting you know when he was at the airport. You knew he had told his family, since Carmen had called you and you spent a good hour talking to her on the phone the night before. You heard a noise outside and you went to your porch to see Lewis arriving in a pick-up truck.
You walked up to Lewis with a small smile. He closed his fists, physically restraining himself as to not hold your pretty face and kiss you silly.
“Hi,” you said and your voice was sweet.
“Hi, beautiful mama,” he whispered, which made you blush. You eye the back of the truck.
“What is that?”
“I bought some stuff,” he patted one of the boxes, “this is an ergonomic chair, appropriate for pregnant women, I thought it would be useful since you’ll still be working for a while. And they had it in your favorite color too!”
“Lewis.”
“I also bought a few books on pregnancy, maternity and paternity. Already sent a few copies to my place too. There’s a bunch of baby clothes over there, a few are gifts from my family but most of them I just bought because I thought they were pretty cute.” He pointed to the other boxes.
“Lewis, it’s too much!” You wanted to reprimand him, but it was also sweet how dedicated he was being.
“Nothing is too much for Peanut and Mama,” he dismissed you, “and I didn’t even buy a lot of stuff because I thought we should do it together.”
He carried the boxes inside, while you got started on the meal for lunch.
“Why is this ladder here?” Lewis pointed to the folded ladder in the hallway.
“Oh, I was going to change the light!” You told him.
“Are you crazy, woman?! You can be doing all that while pregnant!” His voice echoed from the hallway.
“I’m pregnant, not ill!” You screamed back, and he laughed out loud.
There was only silence for a few minutes, so you checked the hallway to see Lewis changing the lights. As he came down the ladder, he put both hands on his waist.
“Anything else needs fixing?”
“You wouldn’t happen to know how to fix the door handle, would you?”
“Please, how would you doubt me?”
After Lewis fixed the bathroom door handle, he came back out and started helping you with the food. You ate while Lewis told you about his family’s reaction to the news. He guaranteed everyone was happy, but they were refraining to call and text you so as to not overwhelm you.
While you were on the phone with your mom, Lewis decided to unbox the new chair and take it to your new office. He looked around, seeing how this office was smaller than the one at home, but cozier. You had a big window with lots of natural light bathing the room. Whenever you were working on your projects on paper and charcoal, you liked using natural light to draw. There were a couple of scented candles around too.
He took a little while to fully assemble the new chair, but as he came back down, you were taking a nap on the couch. He grabbed the blanket and covered you, and went back to put the dishes away. It was different, he hadn’t been so domestic in so long, and certainly not when you were married. Now he was just happy to be of service, to help you around just like things had never changed. He noticed you had put a panel on the kitchen, just like in the project for your family home, and your planner was there. It showed you had a doctor visit by the end of the week and pregnancy yoga twice a week in the afternoons, it also had your next museum visit marked for after the doctor. He took a picture of your planner, to align his to yours.
“Y/N, hey,” he woke you up softly, confused, you stared at him, “you have yoga class in like an hour, will you go today? I can drive you to the city.”
“Yes, sure.” You got ready and Lewis drove you there right on time.
“I’ll just drive around for a bit, text me when the class is over,” he said as he dropped you by the gym’s door. He ended up going shopping for baby stuff, and had at least seven shopping bags by the time he went back to pick you up. He stopped the car by the entryway of the gym, where a man had been excitedly talking to you. Lewis made a face, it seemed like everywhere he went, there was someone into you. Of course, you were radiating this glow and charm of a pregnant woman, seducing everyone around.
Impatient, Lewis honked softly to catch your attention. He bit his tongue as you said goodbye to the man, who hugged you way too tight for Lewis’ taste. You were happy and Lewis hated that you were giving that rando your sweet smile and attention. He didn’t say anything as you got closer and he left the car to open the door for you, instead, he showed you all the stuff he had bought you and the baby.
When the end of the week came, Lewis also came back as you were leaving for your doctor’s appointment. You had invited him but he also had taken a picture of your schedule.
At the doctor’s you laid on the bed and the doctor started the ultrasound, Lewis gripped your hand firmly, his eyes never leaving the screen.
“See, here, this is your baby,” she pointed at the little gray mass on the screen, she gestured to the nurse, “and this is their heartbeat.”
The sound filled the room, and Lewis felt like his world stopped and reset, a warm sensation in his chest, finding what felt like something to live and something to die for. He listened while you asked the doctor for updates, but his eyes never left the screen, where he could see Peanut.
As you left the room, with your next appointment scheduled, Lewis stopped you in the parking lot, pulled you to his chest, holding you firmly and breathing into you. He was crying, you held him and that moment, something started to heal inside you. Maybe you’d never get your husband back, but you could count on him as a friend, as the father of your kid.
“Everything’s gonna be alright, Lewis. We’re gonna do great for Peanut.” You whispered into his shoulder.
-
You and Lewis managed to get a routine, he was coming back frequently, he claimed your guest room and was staying for two or three days at a time, only leaving for his commitments. Both of you already did therapy separately but you also decided to go a few sessions with a family therapist to try and navigate the new family dynamics as divorced parents to an unborn baby. You talked about the cheating a lot, which brought big emotions during most of the sessions, with the therapist mediating until you could talk again. Lewis for the most part accepted taking you anger and sadness and hurt, apologizing profusely over and over again, reassuring you that he made a mistake he regretted every breathing moment. It took a while to make peace with the fact that his mistake shouldn’t define him forever, to accept and give him the opportunity to grow and learn for the sake of your baby.
“The season will start soon,” he told you one day, late at night as you ate quietly. You only hummed a response, unsure of what he wanted you to say or what point he was trying to make.
“Ok, understood,” you muttered, knowing he probably was letting you know he wasn’t going to come visit you as much, which honestly made you a bit sad, kinda used to his company by now.
“What I mean to ask is, can I move here? I know I won’t have much free time, so instead of going back to Monaco, I was wondering if I could come straight here. Of course, I would need to bring a few things, training gear, stuff from my office,” When you didn’t answer him, jaw slacked, he thought you might not like the idea, “But it’s ok if you rather not, too. I mean, if you prefer your privacy and all- I totally respect-”
“It’s ok, Lewis, you can move here for the remainder of the pregnancy,” you calmed his rambling, and he smiled seemingly relieved.
“Thank you, I don’t want to miss anything,” He whispered, crouching down by your side, putting his hand on your belly, “right, Peanut? Daddy’s gonna be right here.”
The next morning, you woke up, the breakfast was ready, and you looked around for Lewis, until you found him outside. He was wearing gardening gloves, making a hole on the ground with a trowel, and behind him a wheelbarrow loaded with flower pots. He was also shirtless, sweat glistening on his skin and above his tattoos, back muscles prominent with every move, which had your pregnancy hormones feeling some kind of way.
“Morning, what is going on?” You asked, hugging yourself as you approached him.
“Well, you said you wanted a flower bed on the entryway. So I had the time and thought I would do it for you.” He shrugged, removing the gloves.
“You didn’t have to, but thank you.”
As he stood up and when he turned to you, your eyes fell on his necklace, and more specifically, your wedding band hanging from the necklace like a pendant. You had wondered if he had gotten rid of your wedding ring, but now you knew where it was. Lewis swallowed like he was self conscious, putting his hand over the ring. It was so different whenever you thought about the cheating and the divorce, about the new normal you had to get used to. You weren’t angry at him anymore, but it would require a lot to rebuild the trust you once had in him. You decided to not address the elephant in the room, so you just looked away.
“I’m going to eat, thank you for breakfast, also.”
He only nodded as you got inside, swallowing the lump in your throat with a glass of juice and slices of bread. You didn’t mention the ring, but you could notice he kept wearing the ring under his shirts.
You went back to watch his races, commenting about it with Olive and Peanut, cheering when he was going well and complaining when he wasn’t. You’d hug him whenever he came back, for emotional support, you’d tell yourself.
You two decided you wouldn’t find out if Peanut was a boy or a girl, leaving the mystery to whenever they were born. And as the pregnancy progressed, it was inevitable that you and Lewis got closer, almost like best friends as he had seen your many lows of the pregnancy. That one time you craved cauliflower with barbecue sauce, or when you ate corn with sprinkled smashed cheetos on top, or when you farted loudly. He also had seen you cry because the delivery guy didn’t wave back to you as he was leaving, or when Olive hunted a small gecko and gave you as a present and you started just bawling. Or when Lewis hummed a song by a rapper you disliked and you started going off, snappy.
Honestly, Lewis took your mood swings and weird cravings like a champ with the patience of a saint. He had read about how pregnancy could cause your emotions to be all over the place, with outbursts of sadness or anger, and according to what he read, he just needed to help you let it all out. He had studied hard about pregnancy and was always willing to help. Funnily enough, you saw him more that season than all the five seasons you witnessed when you dated and was married to him.
One night you went to bed early, and when he went to your bedroom to check on you, you were moving a little, grunting in your sleep. Lewis immediately went closer, shaking your shoulders to wake you up from your nightmare.
“Hey, hey,” he called and you opened your eyes wide and you looked a little winded, “had a bad dream?”
Your eyes started tearing up, and he sat by your side, putting an arm over your shoulder for comfort. He ran a hand up and down your back as you wiped your tears.
“Are you ok?”
“It wasn’t a bad dream!” You whined like a little kid about to throw a tantrum.
“Ok, you want to talk about it? Maybe I can run you a bath?” He offered.
“It was a sex dream!”
Your words caught him a little off guard.
“I’m sorry?” He tried to understand what he should do or say.
“Goddamn pregnancy! I’m horny all the time now, but I can’t cum with my fingers! And I bought a bunch of toys but the delivery had messed it up and it never arrived!” You cried even louder now, and Lewis had to bite his tongue so as to not laugh and cause more anger.
“I could help you with that,” he offered, softly. He was actually scared you’d punch him in the nose for offering.
Instead you just stood up huffing and puffing, and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.
“Sorry!” He shouted, standing by the door. Then a minute later you opened the door again, poking your head out.
“Will you help me?” You pouted.
“Of course, baby,” he walked inside, and you stood there wearing only a t-shirt and panties, “do you have something in mind or do you want me to freestyle?”
“Freestyle. Fuck, I just need to cum.”
Lewis sat by the closed toilet and patted his lap. You walked over to him, letting him position you sideways on his lap. God, you were so frustrated, and so horny your panties were shamelessly wet from the dream. He cupped you, running his middle finger up and down between your legs.
“Lewis, fuck,” you moaned, hyper sensitive, but still not enough, “if you’re going to tease me, I better finish the job myself.”
“Calm down, woman! I was just creating the buildup!”
“I’ve been building up for the past three weeks, Lewis. I need the finishing!” You whined and Lewis chuckled, pushing your panties down until they hung from your foot.
A loud moan escaped your lips as he ran his finger over your cunt, spreading out your wetness and when the pad of his finger found your clit, your hips jerked. You nuzzled into his neck inhaling his perfume and laying your weight on him, letting him do his thing. You had been feeling so sensitive because of the pregnancy, every single touch made your body jolt, curling your stomach already so close.
“More, Lewis, please,” you moaned into his skin, and he only hummed, pressing a finger inside you. His other arm was around you, holding you firmly against his chest.
“Like that, baby? That’s how you want it?” He asked, egging you on, going harder.
You could only moan as he took his time pressing into you, curling his finger and finding your most pleasurable spot.
“Oh, Lewis, fuck-” you moaned all the way up to your orgasm that had your toes curling and eyes rolling back. It took all his restraint to not eat your moans with a sloppy kiss.
Lewis slowed down, but he didn’t stop fingering you, and when you almost felt like it was too much, he kept going, cooing you.
“That’s ok, baby. Give me one more, yeah?” As you whined, pushing his hand away, he gave you a couple of seconds and went back, “you can take it, love. Gonna sleep so well after. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”
He practically pushed you into the second orgasm, shaking, hand pressing your nails into his skin and you bit into his neck to muffle your moans.
Breathless, you just melted into him, sleepy again after cumming so good. Lewis cleaned you and carried you back to bed, letting you fall into slumber.
Raging hard, he ended up in the bathroom of the guest room, fisting his own length thinking of your moans and your teeth on his neck, that’s how he finished under the running shower.
The next morning, he smirked as you walked inside the kitchen, his winning smile hidden behind a mug.
“Shut up, Lewis, or I swear I’m gonna cut your dick off!” You warned. He held back a laugh.
“I didn’t say anything!” He raised both hands in surrender.
“Yeah, but you thought.”
“Look, whenever you need release, I’m right here for you to use me any way you want.” He smiled slyly.
“SHUT UP!” You threw a grape at him, which he caught in the air and ate. “I won’t be needing your services anymore, but thank you.” You whispered begrudgingly.
“If you say so…” He shrugged.
But that same night you ended up laid on the table, your dress hunched around your waist as Lewis ate you out like a man starved for the better part of an hour. You came loudly, grinding your hips to his face, pulling on his braids as he pulled orgasm after orgasm. Until you were limp and sleepy, and he cleaned you up and took you to bed.
It kept happening, but you never kissed or fucked, he would just relieve your tension with hand and mouth, and the few times you tried to reciprocate, he denied and said you were pregnant and needed the stress relief. You’d usually go to sleep right after he pleasured you.
After he left for a race week, you received a medium box full of sex toys, ranging from vibrators to suckers and dildos. He left a note saying it was for whenever he wasn’t there to fulfill your needs.
One morning, you were working, finishing up the last of your projects before going on maternity leave, when you felt a little poke on your belly, from inside. You squealed, and in mere seconds, Lewis was speeding up the stairs and barging into your office.
“What happened? Are you ok? Do we need to go to the hospital?” He panted, getting close to you. You just held his wrist and pressed his palm against your bump, where you had felt the thing.
“I think Peanut just kicked!”
You two stayed silent as you waited, and then you felt it just as Lewis felt on his hand. You cried, Lewis cried, and then he crouched, pressing his face to your belly, feeling a little kick on the side of his face. He laughed between tears.
“Peanut, daddy’s right here! You’re going to be so strong, baby!”
As your bump got bigger, and the pains got a little bit worse, you tried new sleep positions because of the back pains. Your feet swelled and your boobs and nipples got a bit more sensitive, so you had to change bras. Lewis was such a great help throughout the gestation, that you’d always remember him as a great source of strength. Sometime after you were seven months along during Summer Break, Lewis ended up taking you to a spa resort one week, somewhere in Greece, where you had one of the best times ever. You got massages, went into the hot tub, swam in the pools and went to the beach.
One random day back home, you were feeling particularly bothered by the backache, laying down in different positions and walking around with a muscle pain tape glued to your spine. Whenever you felt like that, your mood got irritable due to the pain.
“I saw something on the internet, I think we could try,” Lewis suggested.
“What?”
“Just trust me, yeah?” He asked and you nodded.
He stood right behind you, his chest pressed to your back, and his arms circled your waist, both hands settling under the bump. Then he just pushed up softly, taking the weight of the baby. You moaned feeling instant relief on your back, your head falling down on Lewis’ shoulder as you breathed deep.
“It’s ok, take your time,” he murmured close to your ear, “we should do this a few times a day to ease the pain.”
Eventually you two sat down to discuss baby names, and decided on each making a list and then comparing if you had put the same names. The boy names list ended up with three names matching and the girls’ list had only one match. You came around with choices for both, but ultimately decided to leave the decision for after Peanut was born.
When your birthday came in late July, Lewis took you to another trip, for a surprise.
“Where are we?” You asked as he blindfolded you on your way out of the private jet.
“We’re in London.”
“Oh, I love London!” You whispered excitedly, getting inside a car.
“I know you do.”
It took a few minutes, but eventually, he took you out of the car and walked you a few steps. Then, he removed your blindfold, and you stared at a big house. Not any house, but the home you had designed, your family home. The one you would give him on his birthday, but he saw when you were at the low ending of your marriage.
And it was just like the project, the same materials, the same colors, the same height and size. With all the little details you had poured your heart into.
“Happy birthday, this is yours.” Lewis whispered, handing you a key set.
“Lewis? What?” You turned to him, feeling your eyes watering.
“I know that we divorced, and things are different now… But I think it’s only fair that you get to raise Peanut in the home we dreamed of,” he said and you just nodded, the tears falling down, “and I hope you save me a guest room, for when I want to spend time with Peanut and Mama, if you allow.”
It was time you admitted that you and Lewis had grown so much closer than you ever did while married. It was good and most of the time you’d say it was everything for the sake of Peanut, but you knew better. You could silently admit to yourself that Lewis was an indispensable presence in your life. You needed his steadfast support that you been getting throughout the pregnancy, you needed his company in the mornings and his laughter in the evenings, you needed the feel of his hands on you be it for comfort or for intimacy.
And you fucking loved him.
It was like you’ve never stopped, even through the pain and the divorce, like your heart had always been in the palm of his hands.
But the pregnancy was like falling in love all over again.
You turned around and pulled Lewis by the coat, pressing your lips into his. It felt so right, like you should’ve never stopped. Lewis held your neck, pressing you into him.
“Lewis…”
“We can talk about it, yeah? Take as slow or as fast as you want. I just-” he paused, pecking your lips twice like he couldn’t get enough, “-I love you, my baby. And we can do whatever you want.”
“Let’s just, let’s take it slow first, yeah? See what- see what happens.”
He nodded, kissing you once again before taking you for a tour of the house. It was just as beautiful as you had imagined. The house was already baby proofed, and it had electricity and water already running.
“You can move here whenever you feel like it.”
“Yeah, I think I will soon rather than later. But I’ll keep my place in Edinburgh too.”
When the due date came, you had already moved to the new home, and it was so much closer to your parents and Lewis’ parents to visit, so Carmen was coming to see you a couple of times a week. She usually cooked for you, leaving meal preps for the days she couldn’t come.
To keep everything on the low with the media, you and Lewis decided against a baby shower. No one knew about the divorce, nor the baby.
“Lewis, it’s time to pack your bags,” you said walking into the room.
You were honestly so fed up with being pregnant that you just wanted to give birth. Your body was uncomfortable, you couldn’t sleep right in any position, your breasts were so full that it was leaking all the time and the bump got in the way of pretty much anything.
“I don’t need to,” he said, sleepily turning off the alarm.
“Lewis, you’re going to miss the flight!”
It was race week, which meant he would leave and only come back Monday. Hopefully, Peanut will be born next week. You were already a little over 39 weeks so you’d give birth pretty much any minute now.
“I’m not racing this week,” he said simply.
“You what?! You can’t do that! You need the points!” You exclaimed, pacing around.
“Love, Peanut will come any moment now, I won’t be away and risk missing this.” Lewis stood up, holding your shoulders and standing behind you. He held your bump and lifted it just like he had been doing, which helped you feel immense relief.
“Lewis, I can’t believe this! You’re literally competing for the championship! You can’t afford to lose any points.”
“I won’t be able to get in the car and drive knowing you’re here mostly alone or maybe that you’re going through labor alone. This is not up for discussion, I have spoken to Toto and everything is already set.”
You wanted to cry. You had not told him about how you were worried he might miss the birth, but he must’ve picked up somehow. You two had been in an entirely new level of connection, Lewis attuned to your wants and needs without you needing to express.
You turned around, kissing him. He held you close, reciprocating as his hands explored your body. And with just a little make out you were lit up and horny again.
“Can we make love?” You asked him, between kisses.
“Are you sure?” He mumbled, nipping at your bottom lip.
“Please, I miss your cock,” you whined, pulling his shirt.
That did it for him. He undressed, and you eyed your wedding band on his necklace. You pulled your dress up and Lewis groaned as he saw you were wearing only a support bra underneath, no panties.
“We need to see what positions is more comfortable though, I-”
“Spooning, missionary or cowgirl” he kissed you again, taking your hand and leading you to the bed.
“How do you know?”
“I read a book.”
“A book about sex?” You giggled.
“A book about pregnancy sex.” He corrected which made you laugh even harder.
“Ok then, get in the bed. On your back,” you bossed him and he obeyed.
You didn’t take too much time to straddle him, his cock between your pussy lips as you ground up and down on him, leaning down to kiss him. You were dripping wet, finding comfort on the way his abdomen held most of the weight of the bump. You looked down to him, his lips were open and he helped you up until you had him lined up and into your cunt. Both of you moaned out loud. The first time for both since your goodbye before the divorce.
Lewis sat up and pawed at your boobs and you moaned with sensitivity. He tried to remove your bra, but you stopped him.
“It’s going to leak everywhere, Lewis.” You shook your head.
“What kind of husband do you take me for?” He asked as if you were being silly. He unclasped your bra and as soon as you were free, ready to complain, he mouthed your nipple, sucking hard. The relief of the milk coming out was so great it had you groaning.
“Oh, Jesus! Fuck, fuck, fuck-” you moaned out loud with the relief his sucking caused, so much that your cunt clenched with the pleasure, “that’s so good baby, fuck- you’re so good!”
You started moving your hips, the experience so otherworldly that you could only ride him, letting him suck at your tits as your mind exploded with mind blowing sex. You shook so hard through the orgasm that Lewis had to stop and hold you firmly, only moving his hips under you to cum hard to the feel of your cunt milking him.
He stared at you like you were the most beautiful woman on earth, with so much love and devotion that you couldn’t help but bash in it.
You fucked any given chance for the next few days, making up for lost time. Lewis’ favorite position was spooning while he fucked you from behind, holding your body flush against him, kissing your neck and shoulder.
Saturday evening, you started feeling pain, sometimes every few hours. Lewis wanted to go to the hospital immediately but you, having talked with your doctor, knew it was too soon, and you’d only wait for hours in a hospital room.
You slept on and off the entire night, the jolts of pain waking you up every couple of hours. In the morning, you and Lewis had breakfast and decided to watch the race to see how Mick was going to do. You didn’t make it past ten laps, when the water broke when you got up for snacks.
“Oh my god! Ok, now we’re going to the hospital, yeah?” He asked and you nodded, taking your phone to let your doctor know you were going to the hospital.
Lewis was a mess, running up and down the stairs to grab your hospital bag, then he forgot the car keys and went back up again.
“Ok, stay calm, we’re fine,” he said, helping you up.
“I’m calm, Lewis.”
“Yeah, I’m talking to myself.”
You laughed as you two got in the car and to the hospital. You still felt these jolts of pain, each contraction getting closer and closer from the one before. You were put in a bed to wait for the right moment for the baby to crown. Lewis never left your side, even to call his family and your parents to let them know, he stood by you.
When it was a little while before the time to labor, you couldn’t handle the pain anymore, opting for an epidural on the spot which made the pain bearable. Then finally came the time to push, and Lewis stayed there, holding your hand and whispering words of comfort when necessary, and words of strength when needed.
“You are doing great, love. Come on, on three you push with all you can yeah? Promise I’ll stay right here! Come on, no- no-” he held your face softly, “I know you’re tired but you can’t rest yet! Stay here, and we’re going to see Peanut soon! Come on, when the doctor calls three, you push!”
Your memory would be hazy but you’d never forget Lewis’ patience and strength dealing with you. His voice guiding you through every single hour, his eyes that were so kind and his hands on you.
“I can’t Lewis!” You cried, but he held your face, looking deep into your eyes.
“You can! You can because you’re the strongest person here! I love you so much. You can, I’m right here with you. One more push, Peanut is almost out.”
Then, there was the loud cry of the baby in the doctor's hands. Gasping, Lewis stared at the baby while the doctor cut the umbilical cord. You looked at Lewis, who was bawling, face sweaty but the complete adoration in his eyes said more than any words could ever.
“This is your baby girl, Mom and Dad!” The doctor handed you the baby curled on a blanket.
“Oh my god. Love, this is Luna, right?” Lewis leaned down, whispering and watching his baby’s face.
“Luna…” You whispered, looking at her perfect little face.
“Our Luna…” Lewis whispered.
-
You were making tea in the kitchen when you heard Luna starting to cry, progressively louder. You could hear Lewis trying to calm her down, and when you came back to the living room, he was softly nursing Luna, and she was still whining.
“Everything ok, Dada?” You asked him, saving him a mug with tea.
Chuckling, he held Luna against his naked chest, and she was getting calmer and calmer. You sat on the couch, watching them. But then Lewis started mumbling a song, softly like a lullaby, and after a few seconds he sang a bit louder so you could make up the lyrics.
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life, I love you more
Funnily enough, Luna started to drift to sleep again, curled on her Dad’s chest. He put her on the little carrier, covering with the blanket then sat beside you, pulling you into his chest.
“Can you believe that? We made the most amazing bundle of love!” He said, kissing the top of your head, “Thank you so much for taking a chance on me, for letting me be part of this. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, honey.”
“I told you we were gonna make it.”
You felt like your heart was going to burst with so much love, for Lewis, for Luna and grateful for the second chance you took on this life and these dreams. You knew there was still a lot of work to put in, not only in raising your daughter but also in rebuilding your life with Lewis, but you were sure you'd have the rest of your lives to work on it.
#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1#formula 1#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton +18#f1 smut#smut#Spotify
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Never Have I Ever
Pairing — Chan, Changbin x fem!reader
Wordcount — 8,913 words
Genre — 18+
Includes — Mentions of body insecurities and past romantic relationships. Struggles with sex and sexuality. Consumption of alcohol (but no sex under the influence). Explicit sexual content, smut warnings under the cut.
Author's note — It's been a while since I've post something this lengthy... I have to be honest, I started writing this last year (July 2022) but I felt so unsatisfied with it that I never got to post it. I made some corrections, added some more details and now I'm ready to share it with you! Hope you like it. Please remember to leave a comment, reblog or ask if you liked this. And! This is the yearly reminder that I own a ko-fi. If you wish to support my work further, you can leave me a tip there! The link is on my pinned post. Thank you for reading me.
Smut warnings — Use of pet names (baby and princess). Dirty talk, threesome activities, mutual masturbation, oral sex (m. receiving), double penetration, first time anal, description of pain and crying during sex. Multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, pulling out and facial.
"Never have I ever..." Chan hummed, his right hand swirling the green bottle he had been drinking from for the past minutes, "had sex in a public place".
He looked at you and then at Changbin, his curious gaze wondering how he missed an opportunity to make either of you drink from your alcoholic beverage.
"I haven't had sex in a public place," Changbin mumbled, "but I have done other things".
"You have to drink either way," Chan insisted.
"You said sex," the black-haired complained, "next time try to be more specific".
You sat there in silence with a look of amusement as you witnessed the silly discussion your two best friends were holding.
"There will not be a next time," Chan sighed, leaving his bottle on top of the small coffee table next the shared couch, "at this rate, we are going to be wasted and she will remain sober".
You smiled with victory imprinted on your face, imitating Chan's action and leaving your beverage on top of the table, "we should've betted money on who was the most innocent one among the three of us, I could've ended the night with more bucks than the ones I have on my wallet".
"I can't believe you dated that asshole for 3 years and yet you didn't do anything with him," Changbin murmured with disbelief.
"Do you think I am lying?" You questioned him, tilting your head slightly backwards and resting it on the wall behind.
"I know for a fact you are not," Changbin replied, "that's why I’m impressed".
"Well," you took the bowl of chips that was placed between you and Chan, "sex isn't everything in a relationship."
"You say so because you haven't fucked," Chan scoffed, his characteristic dimples showing as soon as the sound of his laughter escaped his lips.
"We did fuck though".
"You say so because you haven't fucked properly," Changbin corrected his best friend's statement, the choice of words making your skin burn in embarrassment.
"Just because I am not into the kinky stuff you guys like doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the sex with him," you whined, throwing a cushion at Changbin, "plus, why are we making my sexual life a topic of conversation? that's something private".
"It's just amusing," Chan mumbled, taking a sip from the bottle, "you didn't drink from your soju the whole time".
"You guys asked such odd questions," you admitted, "threesomes, sex in public places... how was I supposed to drink when I have no interest in those sorts of things?"
"Alright, alright," Changbin interrupted, both of his arms doing signals for you and chan to be quiet, "we will start small".
You looked at Changbin and then at Chan, unsure of what the twisted game your dark-haired friend was thinking about. Nonetheless, your hand reached out for the bottle of soju and you returned back to your previous position, back against the wall and head tilted slightly backwards.
"Never have I ever given my partner oral sex," Changbin mumbled, both pairs of dark eyes fixed on you as they waited for your final answer.
Placing the tip of the bottle in between your lips, you made sure to drink just a small sip from it. Not being too fond of the taste of alcohol nor the feeling of being drunk, you tried your best to limit your consumption during the evening. Of course, playing this kind of game was rather easy for someone as inexperienced as you were.
"Never have I ever received oral sex," Chan continued the attack, expecting you to hold the bottle again and drink from it.
But, after a few seconds of awkward looks and odd grimaces, he understood that you were not going to take another sip of alcohol.
"Never have I ever tried anal sex," Changbin queried and, again, no response from you. "Well, that one was a bit obvious".
You darted him a killer gaze and he scoffed, looking absolutely unimpressed by your sexual inexperience.
"Never have I ever tried more than 2 different sexual positions with my partner," Chan questioned with a teasing smirk and, for the first time that night, you felt a bit shy at your lack of experience.
It was true that your sexual life wasn't the best, not even with your ex-boyfriend of 3 years, but you wouldn't dare to admit it out loud. For some reason, the thought of having to talk about how much he sucked at those things embarrassed you and, knowing your best friends, they wouldn't be able to forget such a confession.
"No wonder why you broke up with him," Changbin whispered, diverting your attention from Chan's image all the way to his. "Let me guess, missionary and doggy?"
You were not the type to get your cheeks blushed but still, the skin on your face was burning in shame.
"Never have I ever faked an orgasm with my partner," Chan added, capturing your whole attention once again.
You knew Chan and, if you were to take a wild guess, you would say that his countenance changed from amusement to concern. In his face, you could catch a glimpse of almost the same reaction he had when you told him all about your break up and how your boyfriend cheated on you several times before you found out.
Even though his reaction was rather odd to you, you still took a sip of your bottle, "shit".
"This is way worse than I thought," Changbin sighed, stretching his body and placing both of his hands behind his neck.
"Just one more question and I will let this go," Chan hummed, trying to satisfy his curiosity without making you uncomfortable, "alright?"
You nodded with resignation, "shoot".
"Never have I ever had an orgasm with a partner," and, as soon as you heard those words, you couldn't help but fix your gaze at your shoelaces that were a hundred times more interesting than whatever was going on inside the tiny living room of your apartment.
"Damn," Changbin's harsh voice interrupted, breaking the awkward silence that was starting to fall down upon the three of you, "are you serious?"
"Why would I lie to you about these things?" you asked with a high-pitched voice, your mind bringing back the memories of the few times you got to spend with your ex.
To be completely honest with yourself, you couldn't deny how hideous the sex with him was. It was rushed, fast, boring. He was focused on his pleasure rather than yours, lasting for not more than 5 minutes and calling it a day. "I'm exhausted", "I came so hard", "I'm so sleepy" were just a few of the things he used to mumble right after overcoming his high and, as much as you loved him at the time, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed after each session. He made you feel like an object who was only meant to give him pleasure without receiving any and, for the longest time, you thought it was completely normal.
"You never talked to him about these things?" Changbin questioned you, making your heart sink at the realization that he was just as worried as Chan was about the whole situation.
"It is not a big deal guys," you tried to convince them, even when you knew that it was, in fact, a big deal, "luckily we are not together anymore so I can leave those boring experiences in the past".
"Still," Chan's words felt like he was scolding you, "you went down on him several times and he couldn't even do that for you".
"Yeah, well-" you sighed, standing up from your seat and stretching your whole body, "I will make sure to get a better and trustworthy fuck buddy next time, I have learned my lesson".
Chan and Changbin remained silent as you started to pick up the mess from the living room, gathering the empty bottles of soju and the wrappings of the snacks you had been eating that night.
"Why don't you help me clean up?" you queried, looking down on them while they spared complicit glances at each other, "the living room is a mess and I don't have plans on doing chores tomorrow morning".
"Hey," Changbin hummed, still sitting on the floor with both of his palms against the rug, "we uh-"
The way your dark-haired roommate stumbled upon his words made you curious about what he was going to say next.
"We would like to help you out with your other issue," Chan spitted, bluntly. Still sitting on the couch with his legs spread, he lifted up his gaze to meet yours.
"What other-" you started the sentence with a smile on your face but, as soon as you realized what they meant, the smile and fondness was transformed into nervousness and curiosity, "oh".
"Oh," Changbin repeated almost with the same intonation you did.
"Listen, you don't have to agree to this," Chan rushed to say, standing up from the couch almost as the same time his friend did from the floor, "me and Changbin, we have discussed this for a while now but we just- we never knew how to approach you about it".
You looked at the two men standing in front of you, suddenly feeling your knees and legs ten times weaker than before. For a while, how long is a while?
"When you say a while, what do you mean?" you asked him, slowly placing the empty bottles on top of the table again.
"We both thought you were attractive the first time you moved in with us," Changbin explained, clearing up his throat as he watched you take a seat on the couch again, now they were the ones looking down on you. "Of course, at the time you had a boyfriend and everything, it was never really a plan, just a thought".
"A thought?"
Changbin looked at Chan and then diverted his gaze to something else, trying hard to avoid giving more information than he needed to.
"One night we were just talking about how much we both liked you," Chan spoke slowly, trying to find just the right words to portray their twisted and perverted fantasies with you, "how much we wanted to be with you, like that"..
"And you have decided to tell me that right now because…"
"We just saw an opportunity to bring the topic and we took it," Changbin continued without even daring to make eye-contact with you, "we don't really lose anything by asking".
"A threesome, then?" you queried with your pair of eyes fixed on them. It was new how nervous they looked right then and there in front of you, clenching their jaws and avoiding eye contact at all costs.
Both of them nodded.
"I... will think about it," you concluded shyly, expecting them to say something else rather than nodding and continuing on picking up the trash that you had placed on top of the table after hearing such revelation.
Other than agreeing and whispering a series of "okay, yeah's", your roommates didn't say anything else. The tension in the environment changed but, at the same time, it didn't feel awkward or overwhelming. If you had to describe it, you would dare to say it was almost pensive.
"You have work tomorrow?" Chan asked, interrupting the silence that was quick to build up after your last words.
"No, I am taking this weekend off," you replied, carrying the green bottles all the way to your kitchen counter.
"I'll get those," Changbin mumbled, picking up the bottles that you had left behind because you could only carry that much.
You didn't want to give them the wrong impression, one where you felt awkwardly uncomfortable at their proposal to the point of not wanting to interact with them in any way, but it was almost impossible to talk when your mind was filled with thoughts.
"Everything alright?" Changbin queried, closing the trash bag and leaving it on the floor right next to the trash can.
"Yeah I just- I'm feeling very tired," you replied, blinking several times before fixing your gaze on him, "it has been a while since I drank".
Liar.
You drank less than half a bottle of soju and all three people in that room knew that.
"You should go to sleep, " the black-haired murmured, not daring to look at you. "We will clean the rest of the living room and continue on working for a bit before going to bed, it's still early".
You unlocked your phone, without having any notion of time, and realized that he was right. You thought it was already midnight but the clock was barely at 10 p.m.
"Thanks," you politely replied, brushing your hands against your denim jeans and standing there for a while before excusing yourself, "goodnight".
As you walked from the kitchen and back to the living room, Changbin's gaze burned on your skin like a fresh cut. He wasn't nervous or uncomfortable, no. He was probably regretful, thinking that the two of them had screwed up an adorable friendship with their best friend just for the sake of wanting to get their dicks wet.
"Goodnight Chan," you mumbled while walking across the living room, Chan's eyes lifting up to meet yours without hesitation.
"Hey," he said, clearing his throat and turning his whole body around to face you, "me and Changbin, we wouldn't want things to get awkward".
"Me neither," you faintly smiled, trying to give him the reassurance he needed in order to understand that you weren't uncomfortable nor scared after their proposal. "I'm alright, don't worry too much about it".
And after he offered you a smile back, you closed your bedroom door right behind you.
Saying you were alright was a lie, especially when your whole body stopped being numb and regained its consciousness. The wetness between your thighs betrayed you once again, just like every other time you were around those two.
"Fuck," you whispered to yourself, closing your eyes and swallowing hard.
Only then, you started to mentally curse yourself. You knew how bad you wanted them, how many nights you spent touching yourself wishing it was one of them making you feel good. You, who even while being in a committed relationship, spent hours and hours daydreaming about any of them bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking you until you couldn't do anything but take them completely.
I will think about it.
There was absolutely nothing to think about and you knew it. What was stopping you then? Trying to act all collected and insightful when, in reality, there was not a single day where you could go without pleasuring yourself to the thought of them.
What is stopping me?
You stood there in silence for a few more minutes until you heard their room's door closing, rushing to grab a towel and a pair of clean clothes before running into the shared bathroom of the apartment. It was safe to say that it had been a long day.
Letting the hot water run and taking every single article of clothing before stepping right into the shower, you asked the same question one more time: what is stopping me?
And, as your eyes found your reflection in the foggy mirror, you understood the answer.
You could dream about them as much as you would like, but the nervousness of being not one but with two new partners scared you to death.
They proposed to you.
The idea was appealing, but the anguish that it represented was too strong to be fought in such a small period of time. You trusted them with your life, you really did, but you also knew them more than anyone else in the whole world. You knew what kind of girls they dated and what kind of things they did. You were nowhere near those qualifications and the fact that they even brought that idea was as flattering as it was confusing.
Either way, the mere thought of knowing they desired you like that made you wonder what kind of perverted ideas they thought about whenever they saw you around. What did they see in you that you failed to appreciate?
*
Standing in front of their bedroom's door, you breathed three times before finding the courage to knock on it. The clock would strike 12 a.m. and you knew for sure they were still awake. That excited you as much as it scared you.
The door opened before you could knock again, unsure if they had heard the first pair of faint knocks. Just as you had predicted, both of them were still working on some of their projects.
"Everything alright, princess?" Changbin queried, his dark eyes scanning your figure with discretion.
Princess. Changbin called you like that sometimes for as long as you could remember and it never failed to have the desired effect on you.
Wearing a black oversized shirt with nothing underneath but a pair of pink panties, it struck you only then that maybe you had executed your idea wrong. In your mind, you completely missed the part of the small chat before telling them your verdict about the proposal.
"Can I come in?" you asked, his body walking just a few steps back as he opened the door for you.
Chan turned around on his chair, welcoming himself with the sight of your body.
"I thought about it," you murmured shyly, sitting on the edge of Chan's bed before daring to look at the hungry gazes of your best friends, "and I want it".
"Hey," Chan rushed to call out your name, his parted lips inhaling more air than usual, "don't feel pressured to do it, if you decide not to I promise things are still going to be the same".
"I mean it," you assured him, "I just- I have a condition".
The three of you looked at each other for a couple of seconds in silence.
"Go on," Chan spoke, his whole body leaning forward.
“You said you often thought about me in that way".
"We do, yeah," one of them voiced but the two of them nodded, eager to hear the rest of your demand.
"I-" for a short moment, your breath got caught up in your throat and you wondered if the sudden courage and bravery were sponsored by the cheap alcohol or your undeniable arousal, "I want to know what you think about me".
Changbin looked at Chan and then at you, his body language changing drastically from relaxed to tense in a matter of seconds.
"Is that what you really want?" He queried. His voice was as seductive as it was intimidating, his question seeming more like a warning than an invitation.
You simply nodded.
"I know nothing about this," you murmured, the warmth on your skin spreading throughout your body as Chan's and Changbin's gaze fixed on your eyes, "and you two are the most trustworthy men I know".
"So you want us to teach you?" Chan asked with a soft scoff, the lowness of his voice taking you by surprise.
"I just want to understand what is so appealing about sex to other people," you admitted, shrugging your shoulders and tilting your head, "I just want to know how much I have missed".
Chan couldn't help but smile with fondness at your words, the warmth in his chest mixing up with the warmth between his legs. It wasn't just the fact that you trusted them enough to give your body to the two of them —it was the knowledge that, now that you had accepted their plea, they had the opportunity to make you feel like no one before.
Changbin walked up to your figure, the mattress slightly sinking as he took a seat right next to you. Whether it was out of nervousness or pure excitement, you couldn't help but shudder once the fabric of his black shorts brushed against the naked skin of your thighs.
"Don't be afraid," he cooed, his right hand moving upwards to find the left side of your face and turning it towards him, "you trust us, right?”
Your eyes met the curvature of his lips and, while his face approached you softly, you melted into his hands. The way his breath was stupidly close to be felt and his hand burned deliciously against your skin had you letting out a soft sigh before making the desired contact with him.
And it felt just like you had imagined it. Even better, you would dare to say.
Alcohol, a pinch of cherries and faint cigarette smoke were how you would describe his taste. He was gentle, maybe more gentle than you had expected him to be. His tongue dragged across your lips without going any further, teasing you and almost making you beg for more. He wasn't running out of breath but you were, letting out small whines while you tugged at the neck of his black t-shirt.
Only then, he interrupted the kiss by sinking his teeth on your lower lip and softly pulling at them, earning a sweet hiss from you.
"Should I go next?" Chan softly joked as he stood up from his seat, walking towards the available space of bed right next to you and sliding his hand up your naked thigh. Your parted lips found him immediately, but he remained in his position without going in for a kiss. "But first, you have to promise us something."
"Anything," you whispered out of breath, both men smiling proudly at how eager you were to have your way with them.
"If you don't feel comfortable with something, you have to tell us," Chan warned, his eyes glued to the way your lips were inviting him to devour them.
Easy task. You nodded almost automatically, knowing that the odds of wanting them to stop were minimum to zero.
"Contrary to that, if there's something that you want, you will have to beg for it", he cooed, a faint smirk appearing on the corner of his lips as he saw the nervousness in your face, "promise?"
You let out a jittery laugh, feeling your accelerated heartbeats in the deepest parts of your throat, "it's embarrassing".
"It is not," Changbin intervened, his breath caressing the crook of your neck and making your eyes close for a quick second, "we will do anything you ask us to”.
"What do you get from it?" you questioned softly, your mind dizzy from both confusion and arousal.
"Do you want me to kiss you?" Chan asked, tilting his head and brushing your lips with his, completely ignoring your question.
"Yes," you whispered, your heartbeats going at a mile per hour. Chan smiled against your lips without going any further, trying to give you the clue that you were not following one of his rules, "please Chan, kiss me".
Only then you felt his hand wrapping around your wrist, guiding it towards his lap. He soon placed it on top of his hardened bulge without a warning, his hips moving ever so slightly against the palm of your hand. "Do you see what you can cause if you beg nicely for us?" his hoarse voice inquired and you nodded almost automatically, both of your eyes probably opened like plates at his grittiness, “good”.
He then gave you what you were wishing for so long, his plump lips moving against yours at a much slower pace than you had expected from him. It was almost as if he wanted to taste every inch of your lips that were mixed with your own taste and Changbin's.
Unexpectedly, Changbin's hand caressed the skin on your thighs making you tremble against their bodies, Chan's lips drowning one of many pathetic whines that were urging to leave your mouth. Changbin dragged his touch further, lifting the fabric of your oversized t-shirt and finding the pleasant surprise of your pink, laced panties.
"You wore this for us?" he asked against your ear, the sound of his voice and breathing sending shivers down your spine, "you should've thought about it twice because i'm going to rip it off of you”.
Another chill traveled throughout your body and your skin got covered in goosebumps, an action that didn't go unnoticed by the black-haired one. "You get turned on by words easily," he hummed, nibbling at the skin of your neck, "I'll remember that".
Chan broke the kiss to grasp for some air, the eyes that once looked at you with fondness were now completely clouded by nothing but lust.
Changbin continued on kissing and biting your neck, that only contributed to the wet patch between your legs becoming way noticeable as Chan's fingertips threatened to make contact with your underwear, the fear of being exposed making you dwell in embarrassment.
"Now, tell us," Chan requested while his fingers reached for the skin of your inner thighs, "why did you change your mind?"
"I-" you tried to give an answer but Changbin's lips attached to your neck and Chan's touch lingering in between your legs were making the simple task feel ten times harder, "I was curious".
"That’s it?" Changbin asked, dragging his tongue along your skin and making you squirm under him, "I know there's something you are not telling us, princess".
And he was right.
But how were you supposed to tell them that, even long before knowing that they were sexually attracted to you, you fantasized about them every single night?
Even when you were in a relationship.
"I like you two too," you mumbled in between sighs, fearing that Chan's playful smirk meant that he knew exactly what was going on in your perverted mind, "I thought about you as well".
"And what is it that you thought?" Chan questioned, his digits making the desired contact against your clothed core making you part your legs ever so slightly for them, "you can tell us, we know how to keep secrets". Even though the sentence was rather sweet, the hidden meaning behind it increased the tension on your lower abdomen, "after all, we are your best friends, right?".
"I thought about how good you two could make me feel," you whispered, Changbin's figure withdrawing from your neck and fixing your gaze on the masterpieces he had created on it, your skin now decorated with red bruises along it, "I thought about your fingers, often".
Changbin let out a soft laugh, the tip of his digits dragging along your t-shirt and clothed breasts only to end up brushing his thumb against your mouth, "show me how much you have thought about them, then".
With a curious look, you wrapped your lips around his digits without breaking eye contact. You sucked on them slowly, unsure if that was the action he was expecting from you. But, when he let out a soft groan, you understood that you were on the right path.
"Is this what you dreamt about, princess?" he questioned, pushing his fingers deep inside you as you nodded eagerly.
While you were too focused on Changbin's task, you didn't notice how Chan was lifting up your t-shirt to expose more of your thighs and underwear, the wet patch now becoming completely visible for him. He gently caressed your lower abdomen and made its way to your clothed slit, dragging one finger in circular motions and earning a sudden sigh out of you that was repressed by Changbin's digits.
"What was that, baby?" Chan scoffed, impressed by how sensitive you were.
Changbin took his fingers out of your mouth as Chan slid your panties to the side, licking his lips at the sight of how wet you were.
For a moment, you felt shy. Exposed.
You wanted to close your legs and tell them that you didn't think the whole thing through but Chan's voice was what took you out of those intrusive thoughts.
"You are beautiful," he hummed, his heavy breathing ringing into your ears, "so fucking pretty".
You swallowed hard at his compliments, the skin on your whole body heating up in shyness as you got used to your best friends praising you in that way.
Changbin's digits turned your chin to face him, placing his index and middle fingers in front of your lips as a mischievous smile appeared on his face.
"Tell Chan how bad you need him to touch you," he ordered, his eyes fixed on the way your lips parted almost instinctively as he brushed them against your lips.
"Chan-" you tried to speak, but your breath got caught up in your throat too soon, "please-".
"Tell him exactly what you want," the dark-haired spoke again.
Your gaze turned to Chan who was sitting on the opposite side as Changbin, his fingers swirling around the skin of your thighs without actually making contact where you needed him the most.
"Will you touch me, Chan?" you queried, the way your eyes looked at him sending a pinch of electricity to his already hardened erection, "please".
He smiled at your words and, almost immediately, followed your request. Your whole body trembled against them due to the unfamiliar feeling of having someone else other than you touching you like that.
"What else does our princess need?" Changbin cooed, forcing you to face him once again.
"Your fingers," you sighed, trying hard to maintain eye contact as Chan rubbed your clit painfully slowly, "can I please suck on them?".
It was the way you politely asked and not really begged that had them over the edge. It sounded filthier, more humiliating, they would say.
Changbin pushed both of his fingers inside your mouth and, as he pounded them deeper, a loud moan from you that was caught around his digits sent waves of pleasure throughout the whole body.
"Suck them properly," he commanded, admiring how your head acquired a pace of its own as you gag on them, "I’m fucking your pretty pussy with them".
Chan's digits kept on teasing your clit, your hips instinctively moving against them while you tried to intensify the feeling.
"Right there, princess," he cooed, smiling at how your body was more than ready to be fucked, "you are behaving so well".
Changbin's fingers went in deeper, making you gag and drool all over them. Judged by the way he was watching you, you would dare to say that he loved it. He loved how messy you looked, with your innocent gaze fixed on him and your chin completely covered with your own saliva.
"Baby," Chan hummed, leaving kisses on your shoulders and clavicles while he made your way to your ear, "do you think you are ready to take our fingers?"
Pulling away from Changbin's digits you nodded eagerly, the sinful scene of your teary eyes and drooling mouth was enough for the both of them to cum right then and there, completely in love by the ruined image of their beautiful best friend.
"I need them inside me," you whispered, "please fuck them inside me".
Changbin lost no time into guiding his hand all over your wet cunt, the digits that were previously fucking your mouth now grazing against your hole and threatening to force themselves into it.
"Are you always this wet when you think of us?" Chan queried, looking at how his bedsheets were now stained with your own juices.
"I am," you admitted, placing your head on his chest while he held you tight against him, "I am always so wet".
Changbin pushed both of his fingers inside you knowing that, with how wet you were and how good you had lubricated his fingers, the feeling was going to be everything but painful.
"Fuck-" you hissed, moving your hips unexpectedly and feeling that foreign tension on your lower back, "God-".
"Do you want to know a secret?" Chan asked, admiring your face of pure bliss as Changbin's fingers fucked your cunt and his palm rubbed against your swollen clit. You weakly nodded. "We often talked about you, me and him," he sighed, "we wondered how many times you had been walking around the apartment with your underwear drenched or how many times you had touched yourself in your room while we were sleeping".
"She is dripping wet," Changbin hummed, his lips approaching one of your ears, "I bet it would be so easy to just bend her over any surface of the apartment and put our cocks inside her pretty pussy, don't you think so?"
"Fuck yes," you whined, your vision getting clouded with each of Changbin's movements, “it would be so easy for you two to have me whenever you please".
"Only for us?" Chan scoffed, your words having the desired effect on him as his bulge grew harder and harder, "you are adorable".
Both of your hands traveled to their laps, your right one on Changbin's and your left one on Chan's. Shyly, you started palming them through their clothes, earning a faint laugh from Changbin who was still working on your cunt.
"Tell us what you want, princess," he cooed, "we might give you permission if you use your words."
As soon as you were about to speak, Chan's digits replaced Changbin's palm and continued on rubbing your clit while the dark-haired fucked you at a rougher pace, the soft moans becoming louder and louder as the seconds passed by.
"Please, let me touch you," you whined, moving frantically against their hands, "I want to touch you too".
"Go on," he allowed, his voice becoming lower as your timid hands palmed him through the thin fabric of his shorts.
And without losing any more time, you snuck your hands under their clothes, being welcomed by the warmth of their skins as your hands wrapped around their lengths.
However, you were rather impressed by what you found underneath those clothes.
"Don't be scared," Chan murmured as he noticed your countenance, "we will make them fit”.
You cursed again at his words, the tension on your lower back increasing as well as the frantic movements of your hands around them.
They couldn't help themselves but let out small grunts and sighs as you jerked them off, pulling down their clothes to give you even more access to their cocks.
Moving your hands up and down, the movements soon started to become sloppier and messier, your eyes started to roll to the back of your head and incoherent words and mumbles were escaping your lips as an unfamiliar feeling took control over you.
"You are clenching so fucking hard around me," Changbin groaned, increasing the pace of his digits, "does that feel good, princess?"
"Fuck yes," you sighed, the overwhelming feeling causing tears to prick into the corner of your eyes, "don't stop, don't stop, don't stop".
"You look so pretty like this," Chan praised, his hot breath tickling against your cheek, "all desperate and needy".
"Faster," you cried, moving your hips in circular motions against them, "please touch me faster".
And as good, compassionate best friends they were, the two of them followed your pleas. You knew that it wasn't going to take you long to reach your climax and, with all honesty, you could say that this was something you had never experienced before.
Maybe because of it you looked too desperate and eager in front of them, moving your hips frantically and trembling between their bodies as you reached your high.
The sight was something they would never forget, feeling the way your hand squeezed their cocks with roughnes as you cried and rode your orgasm.
"Aren't you such a dirty princess?" Changbin groaned, still fucking you at the same pace just when you were reaching the highest point of your climax and forcing both of your legs open, "coming for the first time in no other than your best friend's bed".
"Oh, God," you cried, biting your lower lip while your body was still shaking.
"Don't close them just yet, baby" Chan mumbled, his digits collecting all of your juices while he held you in place, "don't you want to taste yourself?"
You whined at the faint overstimulation from Chan's digits dragging along your slit, getting completely coated by your arousal. They made their way to your lips and you were quick to clean them up completely, bopping your head and drooling all over them.
Soon, the weight on the bed from your right side shifted as Changbin's figure stood up from his seat. Lowering his shorts and underwear completely, his cock was now at full disposal to you.
And God, was he big.
"Come here," he demanded, signaling for you to kneel right in front of him, "show me what you've thought about me”.
You had given blowjobs before, countless times, but your ex boyfriend was nowhere near to what you had in front of you. Your mind drifted away as it thought about his thick girth filling you up, making you cry both in pain and pleasure but, soon, those trails of thoughts were interrupted when Chan's figure came into the picture.
"We will be gentle," Chan hissed, placing his hand on the back of your head and guiding you all the way to his hardened length,
Starting off with kitty licks, you dragged your tongue along the tip of Chan's cock. He let out a soft moan that only encouraged you to explore further, taking the head inside of your warm mouth as your hand reached out for Changbin's length.
"Jerk him off while I fuck your mouth, do you think you can do that?" you nodded against his cock, "if I get too rough, squeeze my thigh and I will stop".
You nodded once again, feeling how his hands pushed you deeper into his length. You were not really trained to take him, but you were determined to prove to them that you deserved to be fucked.
"All the way in," he hissed, hearing how you struggled to prevent yourself from gagging, "don't hold back, baby, let me hear you choking on my cock".
Relaxing your throat for a bit, you were able to take more of him. Squeezing Changbin's cock everytime Chan's length reached a deeper spot inside your mouth, he couldn't stop himself from letting out grunts and groans each time.
"My turn," Changbin hissed, one of his hands gripping your hair in a ponytail and guiding your face towards his length. With drool all over your chin, and letting out small coughs, you took Changbin's cock inside as if you were an expert on it. Now, your opposite hand reached out for Chan's length as you stroked himself with your own saliva.
"You are doing a great job," Changbin praised, closing his eyes and slamming his hips slowly against your mouth, "taking two cocks at the same time".
From then on, you started acquiring a pace of your own while sucking them off. Having one of their cocks inside of your mouth while stroking the other one, you spent all the time you were able to before your knees started to hurt and bruise due to the material of the rug.
And even then, you didn't want to stop.
The sound of their groans and moans were turning you on more than you would've thought, your available hand always rubbing against your clit as much as you could, driving you to the edge and tightening the now familiar knot on your lower abdomen.
"You have no idea how many times we fantasized about having you like this," Chan groaned, caressing your hair as he slammed his cock inside your mouth, "kneeling down in front of us with your mouth drooling and wanting to take our cocks completely".
"She is so pretty," Changbin praised, biting his lower lip as he witnessed the scene of your teary eyes and ruined face alternating between his cock and Chan's, "I wonder how much prettier she will look with all of her holes filled".
A sudden moan escaped your lips as you heard those words. Of course you knew that having sex with more than one partner was a whole different world than what you were used to, but you never got to think about the implications of it.
"Is that what you want?" Chan questioned, his eyes fixed on the way Changbin's cock disappeared in your mouth, "do you want me to fuck your pussy while he fucks your ass?"
You would be lying if you said that the idea of doing so didn't turn you on.
"It is too soon to try anal," Changbin grunted, letting out a desperate sigh as soon as you withdrew from him to take Chan's cock, "she is not ready for it".
"You think so?" the brown-haired queried, burying himself inside your warm mouth, "I am sure she can take it".
Changbin gave him a worried look, but he wasn't going to deny the fact that he was dying to fuck you from behind. He knew how tight your cunt was from earlier, when he was fucking his fingers inside of you, and he could only imagine how much tighter your ass was.
Luckily for the both of you, he always kept a bottle of lube around for those kinds of rendezvous.
Walking towards the small nightstand right next to his bed, he took out a black, small bottle that caught your whole attention as you awaited on your knees for him.
"I am going to ask you this once," he softly mumbled, caressing your hair and putting a strand of it behind your ear. "Do you really want to try this?"
You knew it was going to be painful but knowing it was them who were causing you pain only turned you even more.
"If you decide that you suddenly don't want it anymore, we will stop," Chan warned.
You stood up from the floor and walked towards the bed, removing your black t-shirt that was now ruined with drool, tears and even precum.
Chan laid down on his own bed with his hardened length inviting you to straddle over him, softly guiding your movements on the bed as he held your hand. You sat down on his lap and allowed him to continue with the task, one of his hands reaching down for the base of his cock to align it with your entrance.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asked you with his jaw clenched, dragging the tip of his cock along your slit and earning a few sighs from the both of you. You simply nodded. "It's going to hurt, but I know you can take him".
You stared at Chan for what it felt like hours, and only regained consciousness of the place and position you were in once you felt the weight of the bed shifting as Changbin positioned himself right behind you, resting one of his hands on your hip while the other one held the bottle of lube.
"I think she is ready," Changbin announced and Chan lost no time in entering you, lifting his hips ever so slightly while burying the tip of his cock inside your tight cunt.
"Oh, Go-d," you breathed, leaning down on his figure while you placed both of your arms on each side of his head.
"Take me all the way in," Chan mumbled, pressing your figure down so that his cock could reach the deepest spots in you.
And even though you weren't a virgin, you had never felt such an overwhelming sentiment like this. He was bigger than what you were used to and he tried to do it delicately but awfully failed as he surrendered to his instincts, pounding himself inside you rather harshly for a beginner but just as pleasant.
They both gave you a few minutes to get used to Chan's girth, squeezing it and clenching around it every time Changbin caressed your back and neck in an attempt to soothe you before the pain.
"She is so fucking tight around me," Chan hissed with gritted teeth, completely losing his mind over how wet and warm your pussy felt around him.
Just like he imagined it.
"How does it feel to have Chan stretching you open?" Changbin asks softly, placing a couple of wet pecks on your shoulders and neck while he lazily stroked himself with a fair amount of lube.
"It feels good," you admitted with shortness of breath, feeling dizzy on top of Chan. "I've never felt something like this before".
There was something so filthy about hearing you speak in such a manner that Changbin couldn't resist you anymore. You soon felt the palm of his hand on your lower back, pushing your body, forcing it to lean over Chan's and —once he caught the signal— wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly in place.
"Take a deep breath for me," Changbin ordered, getting even harder at the cold sensation of the lube as he poured more on him and your tightest hole. "We are going to count to three, yeah?"
Changbin always appeared to be someone tough but, it was at times like these, where you truly could appreciate such a soft side from him.
"One," he breathed and you felt Chan's arms tightening around you, his face buried on your neck and chest while he felt your body shuddering on top of his.
"Two," Changbin continued and your back unconsciously arched a bit more for him. "And three".
After the last number, you felt a numbing sensation throughout your body. Your toes curled up in pain and you tried hard to muffle the pathetic cries and whimpers but failed almost immediately.
"It hurts so much," you cried and Chan started to caress your back, feeling his heart pounding at a thousand miles per hour as he witnessed your vulnerable body on top of his.
"We know you can take us," Changbin hissed, softly pushing himself even deeper inside you. "All you have to do is get used to our cocks".
You whined and Chan hugged you even tighter, allowing you to cry over him as Changbin stretched your ass carefully. There was something so twisted about feeling your painful tears landing on his neck and chest that, for an unknown reason, riled him up even more.
"Don't move," Changbin ordered and you did as you were told, your hands gripping the bed sheets harshly while you tried your best to overcome the painful –but pleasant– feeling of having them both inside you. "I want to feel you".
Chan's hands traveled from your waist to your back, caressing it while trying to soothe the pain. You spent a good minute or two with your eyes closed, the only audible thing in the room were your cries and their heavy breathing.
"You think you are ready?" Chan asks you softly, leaving soft kisses on your breasts while still having his arms wrapped around your body.
"I think I am," you finally whispered after a few silent seconds, feeling your arms trembling in fear while still being able to hold your whole weight on top of Chan.
Changbin was the first one to move, slowly withdrawing himself from you only to thrust his cock again, making you cry in pain.
"You are doing such a good job," Chan praised, one of his hands reaching out to try the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. "It's just a little bit of pain, I am sure you can take it".
Changbin continued training you, softly pushing his cock inside you while trying to get you used to his girth. The pain never really went away, but the sudden sentiment of pleasure was quick to appear in the equation and, with that, it was ten times more bearable.
"Go on," Changbin hissed, trying his best to control himself. "She can take you now".
Chan lifted his hips slightly and almost came when he saw your grimaces of pleasure and pain, his cock throbbing at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and teary eyes getting completely lost.
"Am I hurting you?" Chan asked you and you weakly shook your head, unable to focus on him —or anything, for that matter— because of the overwhelming sensations.
And as soon as they were sure you were alright, they started to acquire a pace of their own. They were going slow, much more slower than they would prefer, but it was still pleasant nonetheless.
Chan's lips captured your hardened nipples and, if anything, that single action made everything way more enjoyable. The cries and whines were soon replaced with moans and whimpers, and the gentle movements lost their softness once they both felt you were ready for a bit more.
"I don't think I am going to last long," Chan admitted between sighs, feeling his cock throbbing inside you.
Changbin was on the same page, but they both wanted to give you one more orgasm before their own. One of his hands traveled to your swollen clit and, while they both fucked your holes, he tried to mantain a steady pace while rubbing it.
"Oh my f- God," you moaned, both of your eyes opening like plates once you felt your body jolting at Changbin's touch. "It feels-".
You couldn't describe it, but they both knew what you meant by the way your holes clenched around them.
"You are dripping wet," Changbin whispered, coating his digits with your fluids while trying his best to get you to the promising orgasm. "You think you can come one more time for us?"
You didn't have time to reply when your eyes were already rolling at the back of your head and your arms started to tremble, threatening to lose any strength that was still left in them.
"God," you whispered again, parting your lips and looking like a complete mess for the both of them. "There, right there-".
Changbin increased his pace and it was only a matter of seconds before Chan started to feel your walls tightening around him almost aggressively. He closed his eyes and groaned under his breath, trying his best not to come just yet.
He wasn't wearing a condom and coming inside was definitely not an option —but God, how he wished it was.
"Just like that," Changbin praised while admiring your body shaking instinctively, his hips slamming against yours softly while you were still trying to overcome your high.
"You are making me lose my mind," Chan whispered as he saw your face, feeling completely vulnerable at the sight of your glossy eyes and parted lips. "It isn't fair to have you around and not be able to do this as much as I want".
Your arms lost all their strength and you inevitably fell on top of Chan's body, crying as you felt the overstimulation washing up on you.
"I'm not going to last long either," Changbin hissed and, with a swift movement, pulled out of you. You whined at the sentiment of emptiness, but it was also a relief.
Chan lifted your hips too and followed his best friend's actions, leaving you completely empty and a sobbing mess.
"Where do you want us?" Chan asked, caressing your cheek and pushing a strand of hair away from your face.
"Wherever you both want to," you replied with shortness of breath and feeling a bit dizzy.
Of course they both wanted to finish inside you, but it was definitely not a good idea.
At least not tonight.
So Chan looked at Changbin and he did the same, almost as if they didn't need words to communicate with each other.
"Get on your knees," Changbin ordered and Chan smiled, recalling one of those times where they talked about how pretty you were and how much each fantasized about coming on your face.
She would look even prettier, Chan had said.
You followed their instructions and kneeled in front of Chan's bed, patiently waiting for them to approach your figure.
They both stood in front of you, stroking their cocks with their gazes fixed on your face. Changbin's hand even gripped your hair a bit harshly, setting you closer to them and in place so they could finish on your face.
"Stick your tongue out, baby," Chan panted, increasing the movement of his wrist on his cock.
You soon felt his arousal landing on your cheek, tongue and chin while a series of curses and groans left his lips. Changbin, once he saw the filthy image of you covered in his friend's semen, came next. With him, it was way more messier: tongue, chin, lips, cheek and forehead.
You swallowed their cum proudly, feeling as if it was some sort of reward for being able to take all the things they had chosen to give you that night. And they both admired the scene in awe, feeling their softening cocks twitching at the sight.
"You both taste good," you murmured, still kneeling in front of them. "I never thought I would like it".
Chan caressed your hair softly while Changbin's digits lifted your chin just so they could both catch a better glimpse of your face covered in cum —one of their biggest fantasies.
"Perhaps we should play the game again," Changbin mumbled, collecting some of their semen with his thumb only to push it inside your parted lips. "And see if your bottle of soju is still full after we are done".
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⌗ TWO SLOW DANCERS ₊ ˖ ་. gojo satoru x fem reader (1.2k)
⊹ ⠀⠀why doesn’t he love you?
contains; angst, rejection, reader just wants to be loved, gojo's kinda a dick, mitski did this to me, not proofread
author's note; i'm thinking abt the guy who didn't want me rn sorry
“Can I ask you something?” you murmur, your voice nothing above a faint whisper. Fear of judgment is laced within it, something you can’t help but wish you could get rid of. “It’s going to sound ridiculous, and if you think so you can just ignore me.” He’s going to ignore you.
However, Gojo sits up straighter. His eyes are intending to focus on you. “Nothing you say is ridiculous. I’m always here to listen.” You want to believe him so badly. There’s nothing else in the world that you wish for. All you need is a confession, him reciprocating the depth of your feelings, but you know that’s impossible. If he felt the same, he wouldn’t have started seeing that girl; no matter the fact that she’s wonderful for him, amazing, and kind. If she’s so amazing, what are you doing wrong? What is it about her that you can’t compare to? You know you’d be perfect for Gojo. He’s your best friend. He’s the person who knows you better than anyone, so why is it that he doesn’t love you the same way you love him? It doesn’t make sense.
What are you doing wrong?
“...am I difficult to love?” You feel like you already know the answer. It’s a pointless question that’s been eating you up inside for years, ever since you first met and he instantly treated you as a friend when you wanted to be loved by him. “I know it’s silly, but I feel so helpless.”
Without realizing it, your words flow from your lips like a river streaming downhill. Not even the largest dam could hold in your insecurities. “I try so hard, everyday to be kind and patient and perfect; but no one seems to notice. Is there something that everyone else has that I don’t? What am I missing that makes me invisible? Why do I feel so stuck while the world keeps moving and progressing and making changes that I can’t keep up with? Why don’t you love me?”
There it is.
There’s the question that you’ve swallowed down for the past ten years of knowing Gojo Satoru…and somehow…
…it seems that he already knows the answer.
“I do love you.”
In half a second, your heart beats faster. It swells with an overwhelming pink feeling that practically causes it to burst. You almost see stars. In your imagination you’re flying through the night sky, weaving constellations together as you hold Gojo’s hand and ask him what he’s wishing on that shooting star, oh so close to you. So close, yet so far. So far, that it never reaches you; because nothing is ever as it seems. It isn’t a wish racing your way, it’s a meteorite. A meteor thats target is the home in your heart that you’ve made so lovingly for your best friend. The flaming rock finds your weakest point and begins to wither it away into nothing but hopeless shreds of dreams. In a half a second, you’re on the top of the world. In a half a second, your world is destroyed.
“I just don’t love you in the way you want me to.”
You’re a fool. You knew this was coming.
“I can’t imagine my life without you.” Shut up. Why can’t he just shut up? You don’t need these filler words, these empty statements that he’s only saying to make you feel better about your worthless self. “You’re such an important part of my everyday.” Shut up!
It’s so hard to hold in the tears. Your dam already burst— but instead of a river, it seems that you’ve got an ocean of feelings. This ocean is polluted, though. It’s littered in trash and oil, after years of wanting something that was never yours. Other men have thrown their waste in your waters and Gojo’s always been the one to clean it up. He’s always made you laugh…made you smile…made you believe that everything is going to be okay as long as you trust him. Now, you’ve made the mistake of trusting him with your heart; when he’s never cared if it shatters.
“Please don’t say those things to me.” It’s pathetic, the whimper shaking from the tip of your tongue. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Gojo isn’t even replying to you. He’s simply staring with the most pitiful look in his eyes, as if you’re a dying animal that he’s just shot with a rifle. How do you make him stop looking at you like that? You’re better than this! Just suck it up and smile!
Somehow, you find yourself laughing. “Don’t worry about it, Satoru. I’ll be fine, it’s just a silly little crush.” You’re lying.
It’s so obvious you’re lying.
He’s never been a crush. If he was a fleeting crush, then you wouldn’t spend your nights thinking of how you made him smile earlier in the day. You wouldn’t know his favorite place, song, and movie at the top of your head. You wouldn’t imagine his face whenever you picture your wedding day— at the end of the aisle, smiling at you with tears in his eyes. If he was just a little crush, it wouldn’t feel like your entire world is ending.
“I know you’ve liked me, it’s a little obvious.” He shrugs. “I just assumed you’d get over it?”
He knew? He’s known all this time?
There’s a war raging between your heart and your mind. It’s a battlefield with logic on one side and love on the other. The rational part of you knows that he can’t help his feelings. He can’t force himself to reciprocate something that he’s never felt before. That’s unfair to him, and you can’t make him love you…
…but the other half of you can’t accept that.
After all these years of waiting for him. Years and years of watching your closest friends find love, be loved, and experience all of the firsts that you’ve always wanted to experience with him by your side. He doesn’t love you. You’ve known Gojo Satoru since you were ten years old. You’re twenty now and still so delusional that you believe he can feel the same way. Why can’t he, though? Gojo knows you from front to back. If there’s anyone in the world who could write an encyclopedia titled with your name, it’s him; and he still doesn’t love you. You’re the person who’s been there for him through countless breakups and temper tantrums. You’re the one who he trusts most in this world, yet he will never…ever…want you back.
Someone is writing the story of the world. Someone is tying the strings of fate, the line of destiny, or whatever you want to call it; and that someone isn’t on your side. They never have been and they never will be…
…at least not in the case of Gojo Satoru.
“I’ll try my best.” A phony smile graces your face and you’re now realizing that he’s never once called you beautiful. Yet, you still want him. Perhaps it’s human nature to wish for the things that are terrible for you. “You don’t have to worry about me, Satoru. I’ll be fine.”
Yeah, maybe in ten years.
“I’ll be able to forget about this.”
You don’t think you will.
“I didn’t mean to inconvenience you.”
Your feelings are an inconvenience.
“It’s nothing.”
It was love.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹
#i listened to mitski while writing this#୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅ my writing#i.e. two slow dancers#gojo#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo ff#gojo fanfiction#gojo fanfic#gojo angst#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru ff#gojo satoru angst#gojo satoru fanfiction#gojo satoru fanfic#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk anst#jjk hcs#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk drabbles
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Wildest Dreams
You're supposed to write an article about a charity event at The Shrine, the casino of the Itadori family, but soon get swept away by the Yakuza Prince himself. It's probably a bad idea to get close to a dangerous man like him, but he's so tall and handsome as hell. Why not allow yourself to live your wildest dream, at least for one night? -> This is part of my Blog Anniversary Event (closed). @cometcoffee103 requested the song Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift for Yakuza!Yuuji.
Pairing: Yakuza Prince!Yuuji x Reader (female)
Genre: fluff + smut, Yakuza AU
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: 18+, a bit of smut (not very explicit), taking pictures during sex, mentions of alcohol, mentions of organized crime. This story is set in the same universe as my Yakuza AU, but you don't have to read that to understand this story. All you need to know is that Yuuji is the younger brother of the Yakuza King Sukuna, and this version of Yuuji is a bit of a playboy, but in a very sweet and charming way ;) All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.
The casino is bustling with people, all of them dressed to the nines, including you. But you feel out of place here, despite the nice dress you are wearing and the red lipstick you put on. Everyone around you is someone important, someone insanely rich or influential, politicians, actors, businessmen. And Yakuza.
You gulp hard. Your hand trembles a little as you bring your wine glass to your lips to take a small sip. You shouldn't even be here. You usually only write short lifestyle articles for your magazine. It was your boss' job to attend the charity event in The Shrine, the biggest casino in the whole city, the casino of the Itadori family, one of the most powerful Yakuza clans in the country.
But two hours ago, you received that fateful message: "Put on your nicest dress and hurry to The Shrine. I'm at the hospital and can't make it. I need you to write the article about the charity event. And try to add something personal about the Itadori brothers! That will get our readers hooked."
And so you are standing here, clutching your wine glass while trying to blend in with the millionaires around you, feeling the hairs on your arms stand up as you wonder how many of them are criminals.
You don't even see him coming until he is right in front of you, moving gracefully like a tiger. A broad smile lifts his lips, and golden eyes meet yours.
"Hey, don't you like the wine? Should I get you another drink?"
You take in a sharp breath. You know the man in front of you. Of course you do.
Itadori Yuuji, with his pink hair and golden eyes. Tall and muscular in his tailored black suit with a pink dress shirt and black tie. Looking just as rich as he truly is with the diamonds sparkling in his ears and the gold rings on every finger. But the scars on his handsome face also tell a story about the other life he is living. His life in Tokyo's underworld.
He is one of the people you got sent here for. The Young Tiger. The Yakuza Prince.
Your heart flutters nervously. But you force yourself to get a grip and be professional. And so you clear your throat before smiling politely at him and shaking your head,
"No, thank you. The wine is perfect, Mr Itadori."
He blinks and then throws his head back and laughs heartily.
"Ahh, please don't call me that! I am Yuuji for someone as cute as you."
Oh?
For a moment, you are caught off guard by his directness and the shameless flirting. But the Itadori charm is well-known. Both Itadori brothers are infamous for being big flirts and playboys who collect women just like they collect fast cars and expensive jewelry.
He points at the press card dangling on a chain around your neck,
"You're here to write about the charity event? How lucky that you ran into me! I can tell you everything you want to know. Come with me!"
You hastily follow him, not daring to waste this chance to get the article your boss demanded from you. And also not daring to turn down the Yakuza Prince's offer.
You spend the next fifteen minutes in a fancy VIP booth while Yuuji answers your questions for your article. Though half of the time, he is blatantly flirting with you. He isn't shy about it. Clearly, a man used to always getting what he wants. The spoiled Prince of Tokyo's underworld.
But you have to admit that his boyish charm works on you. Somehow, his loud laugh and broad sunshine smile make him seem less intimidating than his name suggests. If you didn't know who he was, you wouldn't even be nervous around him. He is so sweet somehow, making you laugh and feel more at ease at this event where you feel so out of place.
And his good looks certainly work their charm on you, too. He looks dashing in his suit, which accentuates all his firm muscles. The undercut and the pink hair on top look sexy on him. You realize that you have unconsciously scooted closer to him.
His golden eyes look thoughtfully at you, making your heart jump.
"You don't look like you enjoy this event very much. I hate these things, too. All those boring people who try to talk business with me, and no one dares say something funny. I don't know how Sukuna is able to endure this all the time."
He sighs and rolls his pretty eyes. The eyes that then land on the low neckline of your dress. His smile grows bigger, and your breath quickens. Yuuji's large, warm hand lands on yours, giving it a squeeze.
"Hey, cutie, let's leave this boring party, ok? Let's drive out of the city, away from the crowds. We can have some fun, and you can get an exclusive interview with the Yakuza Prince! Not just boring facts about this event, but more personal things. How does that sound?"
Everything in you screams to say no. It's insane to leave with the Yakuza Prince. He might not be as dangerous as his big brother Sukuna, but he is still a powerful Yakuza who can easily kill someone, as the scars on his pretty face prove. It's crazy to imagine getting in his car and driving to an unknown place with him. It's wild to imagine being alone with him.
But somehow, you find yourself biting your lip and nodding as you lift your head to look up at his handsome face. Somehow, your heart is beating so fast that you feel dizzy. Somehow, your skin tingles with excitement. You know you want to go with him. Even though you know there is a high chance this is going to take you down, you can't bring yourself to say no.
And so the words leave your mouth,
"Ok, let's go. Let's sneak away."
Yuuji smiles his bright sunshine smile at you, just as dazzling as the diamonds sparkling in his ears and the various gold rings on his fingers. There's a cheeky glint in his golden eyes,
"I'm very good at sneaking away."
He grabs your hand and pulls you with him, striding with fast steps through his casino, and starts running when you're halfway out the door, laughing loudly, as if he is relieved too to finally leave this fancy event behind. As if he is finally free.
He leads you to his car, a red Porsche, his favorite one, as he lets you know while he holds open the door for you, so charming that you can't help but feel light-headed from all the butterflies in your stomach.
Yuuji drives like someone who knows this city belongs to him. A bit too fast, the music a bit too loud, but it's perfect the way it is. It makes your pulse flutter and your body fill with a giddiness you can't remember ever feeling before.
You leave the city behind you, making an excited tingle start under your skin and spreading through your whole body. It feels like an adventure. Exciting, bubbly. As if your wildest dreams are coming true.
Yuuji parks his car on top of a cliff, turns off the engine, and turns to you with his big sunshine smile.
"So, what are your questions for me, princess?"
You laugh softly,
"Well, my boss said I should try to add something personal about you or your brother. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? Not about the Yakuza Prince. Tell me about Yuuji."
He smiles and leans closer to you, his large hand cupping your cheek while his golden eyes travel slowly over your face. His thumb caresses your cheek, the gold ring on it gliding smoothly over your skin. Yuuji's voice is low, and you can hear the smile in it,
"Then let me tell you a secret. I hate all those stiff, formal events. I rather want to go clubbing or play video games with my friends. I enjoy spending time at my pachinkos and making my best friend Megumi play the arcade games against me, even though I know I suck at those games. And I like to hang out at my pizza delivery service. I don't care that it's only for ... tax-saving purposes. I love pizza! I want to adjust the recipes and make the best pizza in the whole city! That is my new passion!"
His eyes glitter excitedly while his voice drops to a softer tone, low and almost seductive,
"And I like this here. What we are doing right now. Drive out of the city and look at the sunset. I know I can see it from my penthouse, too, but it's not the same."
His words could sound arrogant, the words of someone who grew up rich and has no idea how normal life works. But he doesn't sound like that. There's an almost melancholic tone to his low voice. As if this evening with you, where he ran from his obligations and the glittering fancy party, is his wildest dream, too.
A soft smile lifts your lips, and you catch yourself leaning into his large, warm hand as you look deeply into those gorgeous golden eyes,
"Then let's stop this stupid interview and just enjoy your free evening."
His answer is a broad, boyish grin that makes your stomach flutter. You chuckle when Yuuji leaves the car and comes over to your side, opening the door for you like a gentleman and offering his hand to lead you to the fence at the end of the cliff, where you have a majestic view over the ocean and the beginning of a beautiful sunset.
But your gaze strays to the man next to you. The Yakuza Prince. Or out here, just Yuuji.
You look at him, at his side profile, hit once again by how good he looks. So tall and handsome as hell in his tailored black suit with the light pink dress shirt and black tie. More stunning than any sunset could ever be.
Yuuji turns his head, catching you staring at him, and laughs happily as he reaches out to wrap a strong arm around you and pull you in front of him, making your pulse flutter with how easily he can manhandle you.
He stands behind you, so tall and strong, his muscular arms wrapped around you, holding you safely, his body pressed against your back, warm and buff. You can feel his firm muscles and smell his sexy and expensive perfume.
Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his kisses on your neck.
You tilt your head back to rest against Yuuji's shoulder as you look up at him and are met with a smile even more beautiful than the sunset.
A warm, large hand cups your chin, and then soft lips capture yours in a slow, sexy kiss that makes your knees weak. Who would have thought that the Yakuza Prince would be so gentle when he kisses you for the first time?
You have no idea how long you kiss him. You get lost in the feeling of his warm lips on yours and his tongue caressing yours with those deep, sexy flicks. Your hand is tangled in his pink hair as if you don't ever want to let him go again.
The two of you only pull apart to watch the rest of the sunset, with Yuuji's arm around you as you lean against his strong body, unable to stop smiling while your pulse races and your heart hammers in your chest, your skin tingling all over from the sheer craziness and excitement of it all.
+++
"Do you want to spend the rest of the night with me?"
Your heart misses a beat at Yuuji's question. You feel dizzy when you turn around in his arms to look up at his handsome face.
The deep scars across his nose and on the side of his lips tell you about the dangerous life he leads. His title tells you about how dangerous he himself is. You know he is bad, so so bad. But you cannot bring yourself to turn him down when he smiles that big smile at you. You cannot say no to him when every fiber of you craves him, if only for one night.
And so you nod and place a hand on his broad chest, playing with his black tie as you breathe softly,
"Yes, I can't think of anything else I would rather do."
And he smiles that attractive boyish smile at you and leans down to kiss the corner of your lips,
"I will always remember this evening. The pretty sunset, with an even prettier girl. You in that dress, with your red lipstick and the sweet kisses. Please tell me you'll always remember it, too."
You nod happily before cupping his cheeks with your hands and getting on your tiptoes to kiss him again, breathless and passionate, before whispering against his lips,
"Say you'll see me again after tonight, Yuuji."
And his arms tighten around you, strong and muscular, and he nods,
"Of course I will."
You don't hesitate when he leads you back to his car and holds the door open for you. You smile when his large hand lands on your thigh on the drive back to the city, slipping under your dress to caress your inner thigh, dangerously close to your already-soaked panties, making your heart beat wildly as you grab the leather seat.
You giggle breathlessly when he leans over and kisses you at a red light, making your head spin with the sexy flicks of his tongue before he pulls away again.
You eagerly say yes when he asks if he can accompany you to your apartment. Your dress is already halfway off by the time you manage to unlock your door in between passionate kisses.
You moan when Yuuji's large hands knead your ass and his warm lips suck on your neck. You palm the hard bulge in the Yakuza Prince's fine suit pants all too happily, gasping at how big and hot he feels. You leave a trail of clothes on your floor, leading to your bed, where you spend the best night of your life.
Ruffled sheets, the rhythmic beating of your heart in synch with the headboard banging against the wall. Yuuji's heavy body on top of you, pressing you down so deliciously into your sheets. Loud laughter, even louder moans, and dirty whispers in your ear. Kisses and lipstick marks all over his tan skin. His clothes on your bedroom floor, your hands in his pink hair. Every inch of you brimming with pleasure while you're tangled up with Yuuji's strong body all night, finding utter bliss on his sweet mouth and his gorgeous cock. Smiling when he asks you to please let him take a picture of you while you ride him.
Tomorrow morning, he will leave, get in his sportscar, drive back to his fancy penthouse, and continue to live his fast life as the Prince of Tokyo's underworld. You don't know if this will only be one night and you'll never stand before him in person again after this. But you know you both will always remember this night.
And you will see him again, even if it's just in your wildest dreams.
AAAHHHHH thank you so much for this prompt, babe!!! I was so happy to write for Yakuza Prince Yuuji again aaaahhh!! I am crushing so much on him all over again omgggg 💗💗💗 I NEED HIM BAD!!!
I hope you liked staring at the sunset and staring at sexy Yuuji ;) Please let me know what you think!
Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.
#yuuji x reader#yuuji x you#itadori x reader#itadori x you#yuji x reader#yuji x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#yuuji smut#yuji smut#itadori smut#yuuji x y/n#itadori x y/n#yuji x y/n
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Held In Bondage
Steve turned the key in his front door, opened it, shut it behind him and locked it. He heaved a deep sigh of relief, finally, another work day done.
Amidst the amount of change going on in Steve's life recently, it was always good to get back to his new flat. He'd been there about a month now and whilst it wasn't quite looking like a home yet, at least it was his own space to get away from the world. Today had been a stressful day at work, but then retail often is. He'd been close to a panic attack but had managed to hold it together. He took off his coat, placing it on his coat stand and walked into his living room, flopping down on the sofa and looking at the ceiling and began to contemplate what to do with the evening.
Since moving out of his parents' home, he'd found he had a lot more freedom with his spare time, able to order takeaway without his mother scolding him on wasting his money, able to purchase things online without his father questioning him on what he'd got. It was heavenly. He pulled out his phone and began scrolling through the apps, wondering where to order dinner from. Pizza Hut? Domino's? Failing that McDonald's was always cheaper. Whilst pondering food, he had a thought. Maybe he could order something other than food for the night, like a cute guy looking for a good night. He looked around and wondered about it. Why not? It was his home, it wasn't like he was bringing someone into his parents' house. Steve began to get excited at the idea and began searching dating apps. Hundreds of cute guys in his area! But eventually he decided to stop scrolling. What was he thinking? He'd never had sex before, it wasn't exactly something he'd ever been able to get any experience in. It was embarassing to think about it, but he was 30 and had never made it with a man let alone a woman. People told him he was sweet, but he'd never had the confidence to ask anyone out on a date. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like a stupid idea. Not looking at the screen he locked his phone and decided to search his cupboards for some Pot Noodles.
After he'd prepared and eaten them, he heard a buzzing noise from in the hallway. He jumped at first, but realised it was the intercom. Probably one of the work friends coming to hang out with him. He hurried and picked up the receiver.
'Hello?' Steve asked.
'Hey, is this Steve?' asked a voice.
'Uh, yeah. Who's this?' he asked.
'Oh, you clicked on my Profile. Found your address and here I am!' the voice chuckled. Steve began to sweat, had he accidentally invited someone on one of the apps earlier without realising it?
'You gonna let me in?' asked the voice.
'Oh yeah, yeah sure. Come on up!' said Steve, pressing the button to unlock the door downstairs for the person. Steve hung up the receiver and began cursing himself.
'Why the fuck did you let them in?! You didn't even get a name! Shit!' he hissed through clenched teeth. He hurried through to his bathroom mirror, trying to smooth his hair over quickly, no time to change his clothes. His t-shirt and jeans would just have to do. He sprayed some deodrant over his body quick as he heard a knock at his door.
'Coming! Just a sec!' Steve shouted, looking at himself, taking a deep breath and nodding. He walked briskly through his hallway to his front door and swung it open.
Before him stood a person dressed from head to toe in a PVC bondage suit. Light shining off everything with gloves, boots, a mask. Not an inch of skin to be seen.
'Hey there man, nice to meet you!' said the guest, offering a hand to shake. Steve looked to it and shook it. The guest pulled him close to him and took a deep inhale.
'Mmm, Lynx Africa. Seems like someone sprayed in a hurry!' the guy chuckled, pulling back and slapping Steve heartily on the shoulder. Steve was lost for words.
'Well say something!' the guest insisted.
'You came over here dressed like that?' asked Steve, looking them up and down in surprise.
'Well sure it turns some heads, but it's kinda my deal' said the guest folding their arms, shrugging. Steve laughed nervously.
'So… do you have a name?' asked Steve.
'That all depends on you big man, what's your favourite name?' asked the guest.
'My favourite name?' asked Steve.
'Sure, like if you were getting railed what name would you want to be screaming?' asked the guest.
'Ben, I guess' said Steve.
'Ben, huh?' the guest asked.
'Yeah, I like the name Ben. Known plenty of Bens, they tend to be sweet guys' smiled Steve.
'Fair play then mate, call me Ben!' said the guest giving him two thumbs up.
'Alright, would you like to come in Ben?' asked Steve, beckoning to the front room.
'Thought you'd never ask Steve!' replied Ben, swaggering off down the hallway. Steve followed his guest. Ben looked around the front room.
'You been here long?' asked Ben.
'Only about a month' said Steve, chuckling.
'Figures. But at least you have a couch!' said Ben, walking over to the couch and sitting down, making himself at home.
'Umm, would you like a drink or something?' asked Steve, pointing to the fridge. Ben shook his head.
'Nah, I don't need to drink. Thanks for the offer. Come on and sit with me' said Ben, patting the seat next to him.
Steve gulped and made his way over to Ben. Sitting neatly beside him. Ben leaned in and put an arm over his shoulder.
'So, tell me about yourself Steve' said Ben, stroking Steve's shoulder.
'Aren't we meant to remain anonymous to eachother or something?' asked Steve.
'Well sure some people like to keep their private life secret. I like to get to know my clients so I can do my best. Go on and have a feel' said Ben, guiding Steve's hand to his chest. Steve could feel some very firm pecs under the bondage gear.
'Oh wow… do you work out?' asked Steve, turning to face him.
'Well I work some things alright!' chuckled Ben, moving his hand to stroke Steve's growing bulge. Steve began to laugh too.
'So are you a top or a bottom?' asked Ben, moving his hand to stroke Steve's thigh.
'Sorry?' asked Steve.
'When fucking. Do you like to fuck or be fucked?' asked Ben.
'Umm, actually I've never had sex before' said Steve looking away in embarassment.
'Untouched territory huh? That's ok' said Ben gently, placing his hand on Steve's jaw, moving his face to look back at him.
'It is?' asked Steve, trembling.
'Sure, every man has his first time at some point!' said Ben reassuringly. He held Steve's hand gently. Steve looked to the ceiling and exhaled, he wanted to cry from how embarassed he felt.
'Hey, hey come on mate. It's ok really!' said Ben stroking Steve's shoulders.
'Sorry, it's just you were probably expecting some nympho and you got The 30 Year Old Virgin' replied Steve. Ben giggled, but stopped shortly after.
'Steve, buddy. I know you must be feeling embarassed right now, but please try not to. I'm here to help you through it' said Ben, caressing Steve's cheek. Steve looked to Ben's mask, wondering what kind of beautiful man was behind it.
'Thanks Ben, I really appreciate you understanding' smiled Steve, at which Ben sharply nodded his head.
'Steve, do you trust me enough to make you a changed man?' asked Ben. Steve thought for a moment. Ben seemed willing enough to let him experiment, and he seemed friendly enough.
'Ok, I trust you Ben' smiled Steve.
'That's what I'm talking about Baby!' cried Ben, pulling Steve off the couch and into a tight embrace. Steve was enjoying the feeling of his chin against Ben's bondage-clad bosom.
'Well aren't you gonna cop a feel?' asked Ben, not letting Steve go.
'Cop what?' asked Steve.
'The bakery! I recommend the buns, they're nice!' insisted Ben. Steve understood what he meant and placed his hands on Ben's waist, sliding them down, he squeezed Ben's butt cheeks, firm and a lot to hold.
'Oh shit!' said Steve, surprised.
'Yes! An ass man after my own heart! Oh we're in for a good night!' laughed Ben, grabbing Steve's face and attempting to kiss him through the mask but wound up bumping him on the nose due to his mask's nozzle. The two looked at eachother for a moment, then burst out laughing. Steve was taken aback but he was loving Ben's energy. He took a moment to properly look at Ben, at how the suit was hugging his skin tightly, showing off his muscular build, his abs, his sharp jawline. He had everything Steve liked in a man.
'Are you ready to give this a go?' asked Ben. Steve nodded with a newfound confidence. He wanted to give Ben everything.
'Good, then I guess we should head to the bedroom. Giddy up!' laughed Ben, turning Steve around and smacking him on the ass. Steve began to laugh too and led the way.
On arriving in Steve's bedroom, Ben pushed Steve onto the bed and laid down on him, pinning him down. He took a good inhale of Steve's neck. Steve tried not to moan, this was so hot.
'Don't hold it in, moan if you've gotta' said Ben, grinding his crotch into Steve's. Steve held onto Ben's broad shoulders and began to gasp.
'Oh fuck yeah!' Steve moaned, biting his lower lip. He moved his hands to Ben's waist as he continued to gyrate him into the bed. Even fully clothed this felt amazing. Eventually Ben stopped and nodded.
'Alright, I'm ready' said Ben. Steve looked at him confused.
'I know you want to be inside me, I'm ready' said Ben. Steve wriggled out from under him and Ben proceeded to lay stomach down on the bed. Steve climbed back on and positioned himself over Ben's butt, excited to see who was under the plastic.
'I'll bet you're hot as fuck!' smiled Steve as he began to pull at the zip that started at Ben's neck and ended at his tailbone. Carefully zipping it down, the suit seemed to hiss. As the zipper slid further down, steam began to cloud out of the back, assailing Steve's senses. It felt warm and he could smell sweat and leather. He coughed and fanned the steam out of his face. Looking to the suit's opening expecting to see a man's back, there was nothing. The suit was hollow.
'What the hell?!' asked Steve aloud. The suit was completely empty, had he been tricked?
'Ben?!' asked Steve, looking around. He couldn't see anyone else in the room, just him and the suit.
'Maybe you should try it on!' Steve found himself thinking. He looked down at the suit and felt inside, it was warm and slippery, the texture did make him tingle a bit. He proceeded to remove his t-shirt, jeans, socks and boxers and pulled the bondage suit off the bed, climbing into it. Fitting the gloves, boots and mask on. Shortly after Steve felt a fresh wave of passion wash over him and he fell onto his bed. He gasped in surprise and then groaned. The suit was alive, he could feel it. It was squeezing and stretching him, kneading and pressing. At the same time he could feel something entering his ass, was the suit fucking him? Steve let out a scream of pleasure as the invisible force began to ride him.
'What - the - fuck - is - ha - ppe - ning?!' Steve yelled as he felt his body being compressed and moulded to fit the suit, edging closer to shooting his load.
'Just enjoy it Steve, it'll be ok!' said the suit in Ben's voice, continuing to thrust into him. Steve moaned and struggled to catch his breath.
'What does Ben look like to you Steve?' asked the suit. Steve closed his eyes and began to imagine a muscular man with dark hair and tattoos was fucking him, the kind of man he wanted to be fucked by. Steve smiled.
'Don't lose sight of him!' said the suit, continuing to fuck the cum out of Steve. He couldn't hold it back any longer and began ejaculating, crying out in pure pleasure. String after string as he imagined Ben's gorgeous face. Eventually the suit stopped and began to melt away, leaving Steve lying naked and sweaty on his bed. He turned over and groaned, aching.
'Fuck me, that was nice!' he said, wiping sweat off his forehead, chuckling. He looked at his hand, then his arm which he noticed was inked with patterns.
'Hold on…' he whispered, feeling his chest. Big pecs, abs, he looked down at his body. He gasped and hurried over to the mirror, being greeted by the man he'd just imagined, by… Ben!
'Is this… did I just become Ben?!' he asked. He felt his ass, big and firm. Yep, that was the same ass he'd felt not half an hour ago. And there was no denying his voice either.
'Oh shit! I'm Ben!' cried Ben, laughing.
'Or was Ben even real? Was I Ben all along? Did Ben and I become one person?' Ben asked. He looked to his bed, the suit had completely vanished leaving no trace of it ever having been there. The more he thought about it, the more he could only remember being Ben as far back as forever, filling his 20s with gym workouts and banging guys on the sly, moving out of his parents' place recently and working retail, spending some evenings as a PVC-clad sex maniac. Almost felt like two lives melded into one.
'Well whatever, gotta get some sleep. Work in the morning!' Ben chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. He turned his attention to a pile of clothes on his bedroom floor. The boxers read the name 'Steve'. Ben wondered who that could be. Couldn't say he knew many Steves. Must've been a client or something, probably a sweet guy. He must've left his stuff here.
'Ah well, if he needs his stuff he knows where I am!' Ben said, giving the t-shirt a sniff.
'Hmm, Lynx Africa. That's adorable!' he chuckled, smiling. Somehow it felt familiar.
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wonder how i got by this week, i only touched you once
authors note; hi! this is my first but also not really my first jj piece. i had an old account here but i deleted it over a year ago, however my love for obx has not changed which explains why i am back lols. i am just testing the waters again here, and letting my thoughts go. i also proofread but sometimes not well enough so you may come across an error or two. gif and divider creds to owner. & feel free to send asks, guidelines for those are coming soon.
warnings; fluff, very clingy!jj, & language
summary; if jj could sow his skin to yours, he would.
pairing; jj maybank x fem!reader
an imprint.
you were sure that was all that was going to be left of you on that twin mattress. not that you were deemed in your last moments of life or anything, but because your boyfriend’s grasp on you in his sleep is not suitable for the weak. it should be described as something resembling a death grip. body tinging with restlessness & the mere moments of having laid here wide away for the past two hours. jj’s body heat radiating onto you at a battle with the sun, that is currently piercing through jj’s bedroom window at the chateau. who knew delirium would gather as quickly as it did, every time you peered toward the bathroom you swore it got three feet farther. hair plastered to the sides of your face, you huffed out of frustration.
jj was damn near on top of you. legs wrapped miraculously around yours, twisting and tangling themselves together. his black boxers riding low, as his waste lovingly crushed yours. the sleep weight of him, was like jj plus two. not to be dramatic but you were gasping for air at one point. his top half, guided by his bottom half. skin sticking to skin, whilst you glistened with sweat, jj somehow still had features like that of angel. well, pardoning the snoring. the abs of his stomach glided against your ribs, hanging onto you as if you’d be gone with one goodbye. the tips of his disheveled blonde locks tickled your temple. mouth slack open, roaring desperately into your ear.
what anyone would be thinking right now is, why not just fucking get up ?
two issues with that. the stickiness of your skin unattaching itself from his was sure to wake him up. anytime you made something even resembling a movement he found a way to force you close into him. and he would never let your hear the end of it, he’d make certain to whine and complain all day about “how you wouldn’t love him back” or some shit like that. he’s definitely more dramatic than you, however this was not cuddling. this was a bear hugging a tree and you were his tree to mangle and rip apart whenever he saw fit.
the other issue being, jj’s room has miscellaneous trash littering the entirety of it. in an instant, if your leg were to loom over the side of jj’s bed the crackling of a beer can or a water bottle was going to crush beneath your foot.
“fuck me,” you silently cursed yourself.
nearly approaching three pm, is what jj’s alarm clock read. you still to this day wonder why such an unproductive, procrastinating type person has the need for one, but that’s just jj.
you’d decided you couldn’t bear taking it anymore, combination of hot breath shelling your ear mixed with the stench of muggy air. you craved a shower, brushing your teeth, to piss for Christ’s sake, and your personalized skin care routine if you could muster up enough time to do so …
wriggling a tad, you pulled back the limp limb that is his arm which has been thrown over your neck for best part of his slumber. jj being a light sleeper, it was stupid of you to even attempt. within milliseconds his arm is thrown over your collar bone, whisping you into him once again. out of instinct a minuscule peck was placed to your ear lobe, his breaths interrupted by your movement. a faint grumble between his lips, signaling for you to keep your ass still.
but, you simply could not. you were going to get up, and you refused to feel horrid for it because jj has had well over his ‘must have’ eight hours of sleep.
“j,” you gulped. contemplating today’s reaction of the constant battle, you blink slowly awaiting his response.
a hm escaped jj’s lips, barely awake but staying awake because his girl never deserved to be ignored.
“let me up,” on the brink of a demand, his eyes opened fully at that, furrowing eyebrows out of frustration.
jj wanted you to save him until the both of you were buried alive. he hungered to be inside of your skin. the true depth of being his girlfriend, you already acknowledged those things. there’s no showering alone, there’s no eating alone, no going to the bathroom alone, you don’t remember the last time you did your own makeup alone. he knew that if he was going to be with someone it could not be just anyone, the dynamic had to work. he was aware of his neediness and constant clinging, you were as well, before you even begun dating you had the willingness to admit you always had a soft spot for jj. you weren’t sure if it was the empath in you and the sheerness of being a human being. he’d been abandoned and abused since he was young, you wouldn’t be the one to return the favor.
the both of you just work.
it makes sense that the passion and the ethereal ache for want has never left, loves you just the same as the day he met you in eighth grade.
bringing him to his now decision as to wether or not he wanted to actually let you up or to fuck with you.
“stay with me.”
he uttered; partially truthful, partially not. he despised the feeling of the empty bed settling in if you were to get up, though he’d known you were due for a piss right about now.
“i have to get up, m’all sweaty and you aren’t helping.”
your explanation was understandable, but he still wasn’t having it. an eternity encompassed in your affections was a dream, and living in that dream he would presume possible for as long as you’d allow him.
“suffer a few more minutes.”
“j, i’m serious.”
he edged a tight lipped smile, noticing the eye roll and glistening beauty of your forehead. eyes inspecting you as though it was the first time. your sports bra adorned just how he’d liked, chest rising and falling faster then usual, appearing as if you’d ran a mile and then some. something so sweet about the scent of your skin, he’d breathe in continuously saturating his senses in the symphony that is you.
“what’s a man gotta do for few more minutes hm?”
he’s atop you now, hands at either side of your head. towering over to make eye contact— a sign that you yearned for him as he did you.
staring up at him, a yes is on the tip of your tongue but you’ve sacrificed enough of your day dedicated to cuddling jj. shuffling his weight onto one hand his thumb dusted past your chin and to your cheek bone, trying to lull you back in all at once. tilting your head in a swift movement, he lowers himself itching to press your unearthly soft lips with his. you did not oblige, smashing a hand to his lips.
“you’re not getting a kiss.”
“then you aren’t getting up,” he chimed. “as easy as that, baby.”
“jj! i am hot, and i smell like ass, if you don’t let me up don’t expect a kiss at all.”
you bargained, unable to win this fight you’d be giving in within minutes.
“well, i for one, like hot ass .. your hot ass in particular.”
your throat ran dry, willing to just do it out of desperation for a shower. the feathered blonde of his hair wavered as his head turned about, with the click of his tongue murmuring a muffled tick tock against the back of your hand.
“one fucking kiss jj.”
you’d agreed, hand faintly falling backward as you embraced him. your lips pucker for a slight peck but jj had far more in mind. the peck tainted his lips, the peck was for hurries only. jj ruled this as a no hurry situation though to you it was past a hurry. when you pull away from the peck, jj writhes his hand around your neck gently. wrestling his pair of lips with yours, teeth pulling at your lip for entrance, and you didn’t find yourself pulling away. two tongues swiveling and swirling just the way jj liked. God, he just could not get enough of the way your tongue molded with his. besotted that they fit together just right.
you break the trance, not allowing jj to reel you back in again.
“gotta brush my teeth now, j.”
your voice somewhat pleaded, a small boyish pout forming. groaning and all the extras accompanying jj maybank.
“okay okay, i’ll give you a few.”
rolling off of you, he gave way for you to do all that you pleased. you grinned his way as he sent a toothy one back. you felt free, as you did all the times before you had to force jj off of you. you could move and you did so at a rapid pace, before the whining begun. kicking beer cans out of the way you seemed to take your first step to the bathroom but that is until the palm of jj’s hand collides with the bottom of your ass.
“hurry up, you sexy motherfucker!”
your cheeks tainted red at his outburst, all of the cut could’ve heard it. but you laugh with ease, at your attention seeking boyfriend.
“won’t be long okay?”
you offer him a hug, a show of infatuation; before you were officially off to the bathroom, with intentions of closing the door. he encapsulates you, swallowing you whole with his arms. he peppered multiple kisses to your forehead.
“don’t shower without me, pretty girl.”
#jj maybank#jj#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x kiara carrera#jj maybank x pogue!reader#jj maybank x routledge!reader#jj maybank x oc#jj maybank x kook!reader#jj maybank x sister reader#jj maybank one shot#jj mayback imagine#obx fanfiction#obx#obx pogues#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank angst#jj maybank smut#kiara carerra x reader#john b routledge#pope heyward#sarah cameron#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagines#outer banks#outer banks 3#obx 3#jj maybank imagines
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Shattered.
adjective ‘very upset’
in which, your trying to live a normal life as much as you can, but when you bump into the handsome doctor again, and realise he’s got questions, questions that you can’t answer and thats when you realise just how much your longing for that perfect fairy tale ending.
word count - 5.6k
authors note - ahhh!! i’m so sorry that the wait for this chapter has been so long, but i’ve got over my writers block now and am so excited to get back to writing for your guys, before we start i would just like to thank the beautiful @missbearforfun for helping me with this story, i honestly would not have been able to do this without them, so mwah!!
warnings - mentions of domestic abuse, hospitals, some mild swearing, corey, and nightmares. (if i’ve missed anything please don’t refrain from letting me know!!)
August 30th, 2022.
As you jogged around the local park, the rhythmic thud of your footsteps echoed against the pavement, accompanied by the familiar melodies of Fleetwood Mac streaming through your headphones. With your water bottle in hand, you embraced the solitude of the early morning, relishing in the peaceful ambiance of the park.
Lost in the music and the rhythm of your steps, you rounded a bend in the path and nearly collided with someone coming from the opposite direction. Startled, you stumbled backward, the sudden interruption jolting you out of your reverie. As your headphones slipped slightly, the sound of the stranger's voice broke through the silence.
"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" The voice was accompanied by a concerned expression, and as you looked up, you found yourself gazing into the eyes of a man, who looked just that little bit older to you.
His concern was genuine, and there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put you at ease.
Brushing off the near collision with a sheepish grin, you assured him that you were fine. He lingered for a moment, his easy smile infectious, and before you knew it, you were engaged in conversation.
"Sorry about that, I should've been paying more attention," The man spoke with a chuckle, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
"It's okay, no harm done," you replied, returning his smile.
"I'm Corey."
"Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/N)," you replied, returning his smile.
As the conversation continued, Corey's easygoing charm put you at ease.
"So, do you come here often?" he asked, his tone playful.
"Yeah, I try to jog here a few times a week. It's a great way to clear my head," you explained, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence.
Corey nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I totally get that. There's something about being outdoors that's really refreshing."
Before parting ways, Corey hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "Hey, I know this is perhaps a bit forward, but would you be interested in going for a jog together sometime?"
A smile spread across your face at the invitation.
"I'd like that."
February 4th, 2024.
Standing behind the counter at the cafe where you work, you felt a dull ache resonate through your body with every breath you took in. Corey's words from a few days ago echoed in your mind, urging you to discharge yourself from the hospital, convinced that you were wasting the doctors' time.
Now, as you struggled through the pain, you couldn't help but wonder if he was right.
He usually was.
Your hair was tied up in a high ponytail, a practical choice to keep it out of the way as you worked. The familiar routine of wiping down the coffee machine provided a small distraction from the discomfort that gnawed at you.
Despite the bustling atmosphere of the cafe, you felt isolated in your pain. Corey's presence loomed large in your mind, his words echoing like a relentless refrain. The memory of what he had done last night weighed heavily on your heart, casting a shadow over even the simplest of tasks.
"There’s no reason for you to be here," Corey insisted, his voice dripping with irritation. "The doctors have better things to do than waste their time on someone who doesn't need to be here."
You winced as his fingers dug into your shoulders, his nails leaving angry red marks that threatened to break the skin. The pain in your ribs intensified with each shallow breath, a relentless reminder of the trauma you endured.
But Corey's words cut deeper than any physical wound, adding a layer of guilt and self-doubt to your already overwhelming emotions.
"B-but I'm in pain," you protested weakly, your voice barely above a whisper, your stutter more pronounced in the face of his anger.
Corey's impatience only seemed to grow as he dismissed your concerns with a wave of his hand. "You're fine. It's probably just a bruise or something. You don't need to be taking up a hospital bed for that."
As he spoke, you felt a familiar sense of unease settle over you. It wasn't the first time Corey had minimized your pain and dismissed your need for medical attention. With each passing moment, the weight of his words bore down on you, chipping away at your already fragile sense of self-worth.
Despite the doubts that gnawed at you, a part of you couldn't help but wonder if Corey was right. Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe you were wasting the doctors' time. But deep down, beneath the layers of doubt and fear, you knew that your pain was real, and that you deserved to be heard.
"Please, Corey," you pleaded, your voice shaking with emotion. "I-I need to stay here. I-I need help."
But Corey's patience had worn thin, his frustration boiling over into anger.
"You're being ridiculous," he snapped, his grip on your shoulders tightening. "Get up and leave. Now."
As tears welled up in your eyes, you felt a sense of helplessness wash over you. Trapped between the pain in your body and the cruelty of Corey's words, you struggled to find the strength to stand up for yourself.
Just over a year ago, you were looking for a way to get some money into your bank account, and there was this little cafe on a road called Canal Street, that you had noticed was hiring.
Your heart fluttered with nervous excitement as you hesitated at the threshold, unsure if you had the courage to step inside. Pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath and entered, the chime of the bell announcing your arrival.
Inside, you were greeted by the sight of a cozy interior, filled with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation. Your nerves danced beneath the surface as you approached the counter, where a kind, elderly couple stood, their faces etched with warmth and hospitality.
With hesitant steps, you inquired about the vacant position, your voice barely above a whisper. The woman behind the counter noticed your trembling hands and the uncertainty in your eyes. With a gentle smile, she ushered you to sit down at one of the empty tables, her soft touch calming the jitters that threatened to consume you.
As she reached across to still your shaking hands, her touch was like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.
February 6th, 2024.
On this rare sunny day in Manchester, Dr. Styles, known as Harry to his family, strolled leisurely around the duck pond with his six-year-old nephew, Noah.
It was a tradition for Harry to spend Tuesday afternoonswith Noah, (he always picked him up after school and they always did something to tire the young boy out) his designated day off during the week, cherishing these moments of familial connection amidst his demanding schedule.
Thursdays marked his other day of respite, but it was Tuesdays that held a special place in their hearts.
As they ambled along the winding path, Harry watched with fondness as Noah skipped ahead, his youthful exuberance a stark contrast to the calm demeanor of his uncle. The vibrant hues of the surrounding greenery were accentuated by the gentle rays of sunlight filtering through the branches, casting dappled patterns on the ground below.
The tranquil atmosphere of the duck pond enveloped them, the rhythmic quacking of the ducks providing a soothing backdrop to their conversation. Noah's animated chatter filled the air as he regaled Harry with tales of his adventures at school, his innocent enthusiasm infectious.
Harry listened attentively, his heart swelling with pride at the boundless imagination and curiosity of his nephew. Despite the demands of his profession, moments like these served as a reminder of the simple joys in life, grounding him in the present and offering solace amidst the chaos of the world.
As they strolled around the duck pond, Noah's eyes sparkled with excitement as he spotted the ducks gliding gracefully across the water.
"Uncle H, can we feed the ducks?" he asked eagerly, his voice filled with anticipation.
Harry's heart sank as he realized he had forgotten to bring bread for the ducks. With a sigh, he crouched down to Noah's eye level and explained, "M’sorry, buddy, but I forgot to bring bread today. We can't feed the ducks without any bread."
Noah's face fell, disappointment evident in his expression.
"But I really wanted to feed the ducks," he lamented, his lower lip trembling slightly.
Just as Harry was about to offer consolation, Noah's gaze shifted to an elderly couple sitting on a nearby bench, feeding the ducks slices of bread from a small bag.
"Look, Uncle H, they have bread! Can we ask them for a slice?" Noah exclaimed, his excitement returning at the prospect of feeding the ducks.
Harry hesitated, his brow furrowing in uncertainty.
"Noah, buddy, we can't just ask people f’their bread," he began, but before he could finish, Noah was already darting towards the elderly couple, his enthusiasm undeterred.
"Excuse me, can we have some bread to feed the ducks, please? My uncle H forgot!" Noah asked earnestly, his eyes wide with hope as he approached the couple.
The elderly woman smiled kindly at Noah, her eyes twinkling with warmth.
"Of course, dear. Here, take a slice," she said, offering him a piece of bread from the bag.
And just like that Noah was running off towards the water, as Harry kept a watchful eye on the young boy he cared so deeply for.
As Noah happily fed the ducks with the bread he had received from the kind elderly couple, Harry approached them with a grateful smile.
"Thank y’so much f’letting him have some bread. M’sorry about him, he's not shy to ask for anything from anyone," Harry apologized, his tone apologetic yet amused.
The women smiled warmly at Harry's words.
"Oh, it's no trouble at all. We're happy to share," she replied kindly, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watched Noah's delight.
The man who was accompanying her chuckled, his deep voice carrying a sense of camaraderie.
"That's the spirit. Kids have a way of reminding us to embrace life's simple pleasures," he remarked, nodding towards Noah.
Harry found himself drawn into conversation with the couple, their easygoing demeanor putting him at ease.
"M’name's Harry, by the way," he introduced himself, extending a hand in greeting.
"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Mary, and this is my husband, Barney," Mary replied, shaking Harry's hand with a firm grip. "We've been coming to this duck pond every Tuesday for as long as I can remember."
Barney nodded in agreement.
"It's become a bit of a tradition for us. We find it's the perfect way to spend our day off together," he explained, a fond smile playing on his lips.
As they chatted, Harry learned more about Mary and Barney's life together – their love of nature, their shared interests, and the joy they found in the simple pleasures of everyday life. He found himself opening up to them, sharing stories of his own experiences and adventures with Noah.
"There's something special about being out in nature, isn't there? It's good for the soul," Mary remarked, her gaze wandering across the tranquil expanse of the duck pond.
Harry nodded in agreement, a sense of peace settling over him.
"Absolutely. S’moments like these that make life truly meaningful," he agreed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Talking to the two of them seemed to stop time, and before he knew it, the sun was already starting to set in the background.
As Harry glanced down at the Apple Watch on his wrist, he realized the time had flown by faster than he had anticipated.
He clapped his hands together, a smile tugging at his lips, and said, "Well, I best get going. Noah's got to have his dinner soon."
Mary and Barney nodded understandingly, their faces reflecting the warmth of their earlier conversation.
Just as Harry began to turn away, Mary's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Before you go, young man, I wanted to mention something," Mary said, her tone gentle yet earnest. "Barney and I actually own a café on the corner of Canal Street called Timeless Brews. If you ever find yourself in the area, you're more than welcome to pop by. We'd love to see you."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise, a genuine smile spreading across his face.
"Thank you, Mary. That's incredibly kind of you," he replied gratefully. "I'll definitely make sure to stop by sometime."
Barney chimed in with a hearty chuckle.
"Consider it an open invitation, Harry. We'd be delighted to have you as our guest," he said warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
As Harry bid farewell to Mary and Barney, a sense of gratitude filled his heart.
In just a short time, he had forged a connection with this kindhearted couple, and he couldn't help but feel touched by their generosity. With a final wave, he turned to Noah, who was already bounding ahead, eager to continue their adventure.
As they walked away from the duck pond, Harry couldn't shake the feeling of warmth and camaraderie that lingered in the air. He knew that he had made two new friends today, and he looked forward to the possibility of visiting Timeless Brews and sharing more conversations with Mary and Barney in the future.
From a young age, Harry's fascination with the world of medicine was sparked by a pivotal moment in his childhood. At the tender age of ten, he found himself in the confines of a hospital room, his ankle throbbing with pain after a clumsy fall. As he lay in the hospital bed, surrounded by the reassuring presence of doctors and nurses,
Harry knew with unwavering certainty that he wanted to dedicate his life to helping others in the same way they had helped him.
Driven by this newfound sense of purpose, Harry immersed himself in his studies, excelling academically and setting his sights on a future in medicine. At the age of eighteen, his hard work and dedication paid off when he received the news of his acceptance into Oxford University's prestigious Doctor of Medicine program.
With a heart full of ambition and determination, Harry embarked on this new chapter of his life with unwavering resolve.
Over the course of six intense years, Harry immersed himself in the rigors of medical education, delving deep into the intricacies of the human body and honing his skills as a healer.
With each passing year, he grew more confident in his abilities and more passionate about his chosen field, fueled by a relentless desire to make a difference in the lives of others.
Upon graduating from Oxford at the age of twenty-four, Harry's journey had only just begun. Armed with knowledge, experience, and an unyielding commitment to his calling, he eagerly embraced the opportunity to put his skills to the test in the real world.
Eight months later, he found himself walking the halls of The Manchester Royal Infirmary, a newly minted doctor ready to embark on the next phase of his career.
Now, at the age of twenty-six, Harry finds himself living his dream. He's found fulfillment and purpose in his work, relishing the challenges and rewards that come with each day in the hospital.
Yet, amidst the hustle and bustle of his professional life, there lingers a quiet longing for something more – the perfect partner to share his journey with.
And then, you walked into the hospital – an ethereal presence that captivated Harry from the moment he laid eyes on you. Though he knows he must maintain a professional demeanor, there's an undeniable pull, a spark of connection that ignites within him at the sight of you.
As he goes about his duties, his thoughts drift to you, everything about you, wondering if fate will bring them together once more.
10th February, 2024.
As Harry's shift at the hospital came to an end, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. The late shift, starting at 10:45 pm and ending at 9 am, had been a challenging one.
He had encountered a variety of cases, from a patient with a shard of glass lodged near a femoral artery to a young man suffering from alcohol intoxication who had vomited uncontrollably.
Despite the intensity of these emergencies, Harry had remained calm and composed, providing expert care and ensuring the safety of his patients.
Now, as he made his way out of the hospital, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of exhaustion creeping in. The long hours had taken their toll, but he knew that his dedication to his profession was unwavering. He looked forward to the weekend ahead, eager to recharge and spend time with loved ones.
As he walked through the hospital corridors, Harry's thoughts turned to his aspirations for advancement within the medical field. He had been diligently working towards a promotion to become the Clinical Lead, a position currently held by Marcus, who was set to retire soon.
Harry knew that achieving this goal would require dedication and perseverance, but he was determined to rise to the challenge.
As Harry made his way towards the exit, he detoured towards the doctor's desk where his colleague Miranda was stationed.
"Hey, M," he greeted her with a tired but friendly smile. "Just wanted t’give y’a heads up about the patient in cubicle five. They're allergic to morphine, but it wasn't in their notes, so be sure to double-check before administering any medication. Oh, and they're booked in for a CT scan at eleven o'clock."
Miranda nodded, her expression attentive as she took note of Harry's instructions.
"Got it, thanks for letting me know, Haz. I'll make sure to handle it," she assured him, her voice calm and confident.
Just as Harry was about to head out, another colleague approached him. It was Mitch, with his signature man bun and glasses perched on the edge of his nose.
Mitch was most definitely one of his best friends, they shared a dorm at Oxford and were lucky enough to both get a job at the same hospital. Mitch was specialised in paediatrics so they hardly saw each other when working but when they did they always had a good time.
They sometimes ate together on there lunch breaks.
"Hey, bud," Mitch greeted him with a grin. "What shifts are you doing tomorrow?"
Harry glanced at his watch before replying,
"I'm on an early. I'll be in f’seven," he answered, his tone weary but determined.
Mitch nodded in understanding, his expression sympathetic.
"Early shift, huh? Well, try to get some rest, mate. You've earned it," he said, patting Harry on the back in a gesture of camaraderie.
"Thanks, man. I'll do m’best," Harry replied with a grateful smile, appreciating the support from his colleague.
As Harry stepped out of the hospital's exit, the cool morning breeze greeted him, stirring a newfound hunger in his stomach. It had been nearly five hours since his last meal, and the thought of a hearty breakfast was tantalizing. Toast sounded particularly appealing at the moment, simple yet satisfying.
Recalling the conversation he had with the couple at the park the other day, Harry remembered their mention of a cafe they owned nearby. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he considered the possibility of finding a cozy spot to enjoy a meal. The idea of supporting a local business while indulging in some much-needed nourishment appealed to him greatly.
With determination in his stride, Harry made his way to his black Range Rover parked nearby. Slipping behind the wheel, he navigated the bustling streets of Canal Street, the anticipation of discovering a new culinary gem fueling his excitement. Despite the morning rush, he remained focused on his mission, determined to satisfy his hunger with a delicious meal.
After a brief ten-minute drive, Harry finally found a parking space outside the cafe. With a sense of satisfaction, he turned off the engine and stepped out of his car, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. With each step towards the entrance, Harry's anticipation grew, eager to experience what the cafe had to offer.
As Harry entered the cafe, a small bell above the door tinkled lightly, announcing his arrival. He scanned the cozy interior, his eyes immediately landing on an inviting empty table by the window. Making his way over, he settled into the chair, already relishing the prospect of a hot cup of coffee and some toast.
Before he could even glance at the menu, the elderly woman from the park approached his table with a warm smile.
"Well, look who it is! I'm so glad you decided to stop by," she greeted him cheerfully.
Harry returned her smile, feeling a sense of familiarity and warmth in her presence.
"I couldn't resist," he admitted.
The woman beamed with delight.
"Oh, I'm thrilled to hear that! Someone will be with you shortly to take your order. In the meantime, make yourself at home," she said warmly before bustling off to attend to another customer.
Harry leaned back in his chair, feeling a sense of comfort settle over him in the quaint surroundings of the cafe.
As you stand behind the counter, wiping down the coffee machine, Mary, approaches you with a gentle smile.
"Table nine needs to have his order taken," she informs you kindly.
You nod in acknowledgment, trying to ignore the pain throbbing in your ribs and your lower leg.
Retrieving your notepad and pen from under the counter, you attempt to conceal your limp as you make your way over to table nine.
Approaching the table, you and Harry seem to recognize each other simultaneously.
Both of your eyes widen.
Both your mouths go dry.
You blink a few times, getting yourself out of the daze you seem to be captured in as you muster up a fake smile and ask him what he'd like to order.
Before you can finish your question, Harry interrupts you, his voice filled with concern.
"I wondered what had happened t’you," he admits, his gaze searching yours.
You tilt your head to the side, feigning innocence, though you know exactly what he's referring to.
"Oh, it was nothing serious," you reply casually, hoping to brush off the topic.
But it was.
Harry sighs, his expression filled with sincerity.
"Y’discharged yourself before your X-ray," he points out, his tone gentle yet firm. "You wouldn't have done that. You know doctors are there to help people."
You let out a resigned sigh, knowing he's right but unwilling to admit it.
"I didn't want to waste the doctor's time," you murmur, avoiding his gaze as you fiddle with your pen.
Harry's brow furrows in concern.
"Every patient is important, Y/N," he says softly, his voice filled with compassion.
He remembers your name?
"Y’shouldn't have discharged yourself. What happened to you?"
You muster up a fake laugh, hoping to deflect his concern.
"Oh, it was nothing much," you reply nonchalantly, though the memories of the past week weigh heavily on your mind. "Just a few bumps and bruises. I'm fine now."
Harry sighs, his expression troubled.
"I was there to help you," he says earnestly, his eyes searching yours. "And I'll always be here to help you. Y’don’t have to go through these things alone.”
Harry's gaze remains fixed on you, his concern evident as he waits for your response.
You shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, the weight of his words weighing heavily on your shoulders.
"I appreciate your concern, Harry," you say, your voice tinged with reluctance. "But really, there's nothing to worry about. I'm fine."
Harry's brow furrows further, his concern deepening.
"Y/N, I can see that you're in pain," he observes, his tone gentle yet insistent.
You bite your lip, torn between the urge to confide in him and the instinct to keep your struggles hidden.
"It's just... life, you know?" you reply evasively, hoping to deflect his questions. "Nothing I can't handle."
Harry's gaze softens, his empathy shining through as he reaches out a hand towards yours.
"You don't have to handle everything on y’own, Y/N," he says softly. "Sometimes s’okay to lean on others for support."
You pull away slightly, the walls around your heart growing stronger as you push him away.
"I appreciate your concern, Harry," you repeat, your voice firmer this time. "But I'm fine. Really."
Harry's expression falls, a flicker of hurt passing through his eyes before he nods in reluctant acceptance.
"Okay," he says quietly, though the disappointment lingers in his voice. "If y’ever need someone to talk to, m’here."
But where would you ever find him?
You shift your focus to the menu in front of you, grateful for the temporary distraction it provides.
"And what can I get for you today?" you ask, forcing a polite smile as you glance up at Harry.
His gaze flickers down to the menu briefly before returning to meet yours.
"Just a black coffee with a tuna panini, please," he replies, his voice calm and composed.
You nod, scribbling down his order on your notepad as you fight to maintain your composure.
"Sure thing," you say, your voice steady despite the ache in your ribs.
With a tight smile, you turn away, doing your best to conceal the slight limp in your step as you make your way back to the counter.
You walk over to the coffee machine, the familiar hum of its machinery offering a momentary reprieve from the turmoil swirling within you. With practiced efficiency, you begin the process of brewing Harry's black coffee, the rich aroma filling the air as the dark liquid flows into the waiting cup.
As the coffee finishes brewing, you carefully pour it into a ceramic cup, the warmth seeping through the porcelain and into your hands. Despite the ache in your ribs and the lingering pain in your leg, you focus on the task at hand, determined to see it through with unwavering precision.
You carefully balance the tray in one hand, holding Harry's black coffee securely as you navigate your way back to his table.
Despite your best efforts to conceal it, the persistent ache in your ribs and the throbbing pain in your leg threaten to betray you with every step.
As you approach Harry's table, your foot catches on an uneven tile, sending you stumbling forward. Your heart races as you fight to regain your balance, but it's too late.
With a sharp crack, the glass mug slips from your grasp, shattering into pieces on the floor in front of you.
A gasp escapes your lips as you watch the coffee spill across the tiles, the warm liquid mingling with the shards of broken glass. Heat rises to your cheeks as embarrassment floods through you, your pulse pounding in your ears as you struggle to compose yourself.
Harry's concerned voice cuts through the chaos, his words a blur as he rushes to your side.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his brow furrowed with worry as he rushes to your side.
You freeze at the sound of his voice, your heart pounding in your chest as a surge of panic threatens to overwhelm you.
Memories of Corey's anger and violence flood your mind, leaving you trembling in fear.
Harry's hand reaches out to touch your shoulder, but you flinch away instinctively, your body tensing with apprehension.
"Easy, easy," he murmurs softly, his voice gentle as he takes a step closer. "I just want to make sure y’alright."
The sincerity in Harry's words sends a jolt of conflicting emotions coursing through you. Part of you longs to believe him, to surrender to the warmth of his concern and let him chase away the shadows that haunt you.
But another part, hardened by years of trauma, recoils from his touch, wary of the vulnerability that comes with trust.
Struggling to find your voice amidst the turmoil raging within you, you take a shaky step back, your gaze darting nervously around the room.
"I'm... I'm fine," you manage to choke out, though the words taste like ash on your tongue.
Harry's expression softens, his eyes filled with genuine concern as he takes in your trembling form.
"Y’don't look fine," he says gently, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, let me help you."
The sincerity in Harry's voice is like a lifeline in the darkness, offering you a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. But the walls you've built around your heart remain steadfast, the fear of vulnerability too great to overcome.
With a heavy heart, Harry watches as you push yourself to your feet and bolt towards the back of the cafe, disappearing from sight before he can reach out to stop you.
Left standing amidst the wreckage, he can't help but feel a pang of regret, knowing that he's let you slip through his fingers once again. But deep down, he knows that he won't give up on you, not when there's still a chance to break through the walls that surround your wounded heart.
He flickers his eyes up, and catches the eyes of Barney, but the elderly man just casts his eyes back down to the floor.
As you reach the relative safety of the back room, you lean against the wall, gasping for breath as tears prick at the corners of your eyes.
The sound of your own heartbeat echoes in your ears, a relentless reminder of the darkness that lurks within you, threatening to swallow you whole.
LATER THAT NIGHT….
Corey storms into the room, his footsteps heavy with anger.
Your heart pounds in your chest as you shrink back against the headboard, clutching your book tightly to your chest.
"Why isn't there any food on the table?" Corey's voice cuts through the silence like a knife, his tone sharp with frustration.
You stutter out a feeble excuse, explaining that you only just got home from work and haven't had time to cook anything.
"But... I was thinking... maybe we could order takeout?" you offer tentatively, your voice trembling with apprehension.
The suggestion only seems to fuel his rage further.
"You know I don't like eating fast food," he snaps, his voice laced with contempt as he strides towards you.
Without warning, he grabs your hair, wrenching your head back to meet his furious gaze.
Panic courses through you as you struggle to find your voice, your mind racing with fear and confusion.
"There's... there's not much food in the house," you stammer, your words barely audible above the pounding of your heart.
You hadn’t had time to go shopping today.
Corey's grip tightens, his fingers digging into your scalp as he leans in close, his breath hot against your skin.
"You're so useless," he sneers, his words dripping with venom.
"Fat, lazy, good-for-nothing..."
The room spins as Corey's tirade continues, his insults cutting deeper with each passing moment.
Desperate to escape, you try to push him away, but his grip only tightens, trapping you in a nightmare from which there seems to be no escape.
Suddenly, with a violent outburst, Corey grabs the lamp from the bedside table and hurls it against the wall, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room.
Tears blur your vision as you shrink back against the bed, utterly petrified by the display of his rage.
As Corey advances towards you with a fiery rage burning in his eyes, you scramble to your feet, desperately trying to evade his grasp.
With a surge of adrenaline, you manage to slip past him, your heart pounding in your chest as you bolt towards the stairs.
But just as you reach the top step, Corey's hand snags your arm, wrenching you around with a brutal force that sends you reeling.
"How dare you run away from me?" he hisses, his breath hot against your face as flecks of spit land on your skin. "You should never turn your back on your boyfriend."
Terror courses through you as you try to reason with him, your voice trembling with fear.
"Corey, please... You're hurting me," you manage to stammer, but your words fall on deaf ears.
Corey's laughter cuts through the air like a knife, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic amusement.
"Hurting you?" he mocks, his voice dripping with disdain.
"This isn't hurting you, sweetheart. This is."
And with a sudden shove, he sends you tumbling down the stairs, your body crashing against the unforgiving steps with a sickening thud.
Agony radiates through every fiber of your being as you lie at the bottom of the staircase, your ribs screaming in protest with each labored breath.
Tears blur your vision as you curl into a ball, the weight of Corey's betrayal crushing down upon you like a suffocating weight.
With a gasp, you jolt awake from the nightmare, your heart pounding in your chest as if trying to escape the confines of your ribcage.
The events that caused you to head to the hospital in the first place continuously running through your head leading to sleepless night after sleepless night.
Beads of sweat cling to your forehead, your hair damp and tangled against your skin, as the remnants of the horrifying dream linger in your mind like a haunting specter.
As you turn to your left, the empty space beside you serves as a stark reminder of Corey's absence. The sinking realization settles in that he's likely out drinking again, his drunken antics and volatile behavior a constant source of fear and uncertainty in your life.
Gazing out of the window, you're met with the sight of a full moon casting an eerie glow over the world below. Its ethereal light illuminates the darkness, casting long shadows that seem to dance with malevolent intent.
A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you ponder the endless cycle of fear and despair that has become your reality.
How much longer will you have to endure this nightmare?
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into the mist, into the clouds
pairing: lucy gray x fem!reader
words: 3.5k
warnings: very few; fluff, angst, mystery and intrigue etc, post tbosas lucy gray
playlist for this fic • main masterlist
a/n: my first non-smut fic on here! title from carolina by taylor swift, which this fic is very much based on. this is one of my favorite things i've written in a very long time. enjoy 🤍
i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.
“You didn’t see me here.”
Whispered words fill the space between you. Your head rests in her lap, dress crisp and clean and smelling like you, like your home. She looks at you with a sense of urgency, one you’ve seen all too many times before.
“What? Lucy Gray, you’re not…”
She can’t be leaving again. She only just arrived. The morning had brought dew and her muddied boots on your porch for the first time in months. Your mother was gone for the day, it was almost like Lucy Gray had known. Her dress was covered in dirt and grass stains. You piled it into a hamper, washed it in the fresh water of the creek down the hill from your house, scrubbing away while she collected firewood.
“I am. Tomorrow. Dawn.”
“Let me come with you.”
“It’s not safe, my love. I can keep myself protected if I’m alone. I’m startin’ to get real good at it.”
You don’t ask if she’d come back. Neither of you ever know the answer to that.
“Will you do something for me, Lucy Gray?”
Your voice drops. The fire crackles, the pine cones you’d collected together popping as they burn. She likes the sound, she told you. It was safe, comforting. Homely. You’d wondered if she was really talking about the fire, or you, the girl who sat with her in its warmth.
“Anything. You know I will.”
“Would you leave before I wake up? I’m not sure I can say goodbye to you again.”
She smiles, soft and sad, and gazes at you like you’re a song, or something she wants to memorise.
“Of course I will. It’ll be like I never came back here at all.”
The glow of the flames dance across her face.
“I don’t want that.” You whisper. “I hate feeling like you’re slipping away from me.”
She lowers her head to yours, your foreheads touch. You hear the smile in her voice.
“I’m here now, aren’t I?”
You’ve learned not to waste your time in tears, when she’s going to leave. There are better ways to spend those last moments, eyes dry and focused on tracing the lines of her face, committing it to memory for the last time in who knows how long. You sit up, curling into her, pressing your lips to hers, her hair still damp and smelling like the bar of soap you’d lent her when you fixed her a bath, your pruned fingertips massaging her scalp as the water began to cool. You make it to bed, sleeping soundly with her arms around you.
True to her word, she leaves in the morning. Leaving no trace, no proof she was ever there in the first place. But you feel the warmth of the sheets next to you, and you know.
She finds you the next summer.
“Don’t move.”
You freeze, long grass up to your knees, long skirt swishing as you wade through the field, sun blaring down on you.
A pair of warm hands press softly over your eyes.
“You’re back.” You beam, spinning around, taking her head in your hands, eyes shut, just listening to her breathing. You press your lips to hers.
“I sure am.” When you break away to take her in, look at her sunkissed face, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen her smile wider. If you didn’t know better, you’d say she got more beautiful every time you saw her.
You lie sun-drunk in the shade of the tall grass, lazing against each other as you go over your birthday, the village gossip, and she listens. Always listening, drinking up your words like she’s parched.
You’ve learned not to ask Lucy Gray where she’s been hiding, you both know it’s safer the less gets said. But she presses on, ever gentle, asking you for details when you fill her in on your life.
You jump at a movement in the grass beside you, but she just laughs. Picks up the snake, humming as it wraps and twists itself around her hand.
“These ones won’t hurt you, darlin’. They’re docile, see? Wouldn’t harm a fly.”
She lifts the snake to you slowly.
“You’re sure?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Always.” You reply instantly, like you’ve waited your whole life to hear the question.
“Then hold out your hand.”
You reach out.
“Close your eyes.”
You do. After a second, you feel hers, pressing into your palm, and an oddly warm sensation, smooth.
“It feels… dry.”
You open your eyes. The snake twists and drapes between the two of you, loosely binding your hand with Lucy Gray’s, holding you together.
She laughs, bright and sweet, like music.
“Well, what were you expecting?”
“I don’t know.” You confess. “Maybe for it to be wet? Slippery?”
Her laughter chimes through the field, a low gust of winding carrying it away. You stay like that for a few more hours, until night begins to fall, and the summer wind carries her away, too.
A year passes. Then another half.
Your mother gets older; she gets sick. You venture outside the bounds in twelve, slipping under the rusted wire fence with a basket, collecting herbs you’d started to read about but couldn’t afford. You make tinctures, teas, you light incense and fill the house with sprigs of rosemary and thyme. It slows down the sickness that tore through her like wildfire. When she passes, it’s beautifully peaceful, like a candle being blown out. You carry her ashes to the lake and you spread them, lingering by the Covey’s cabin. Hoping.
She doesn’t come. You walk home, humming something you think you remember her singing years ago. You start to wonder if she was just something you dreamt up, an old folk song you sing to yourself each night before you fell asleep.
Spring rolls around, and your empty house gathers dust. Your way with herbs and remedies gets around, starting with a few bottles gifted to a neighbour with influenza. Her granddaughter comes to your doorstep with the empty vial and a bag of potatoes. You smile and thank her.
“Are you a witch?” She asks, barely ten years old and looking up at you with dark, mistrusting eyes. You laugh.
“I’m not too sure about that, hon. Did the herbs help?”
She nods, a frown etched along her features.
“Then perhaps I’m a good one.”
Before you know it, word gets around that you cured the old woman. You make a living collecting herbs, crushing them down, and people line up outside your door most days. You find a slice of peace in it, in the routine.
But winter is cruel, and the house turns cold. The house that was once the perfect size for you and your mother now feels like too much money and work to heat, and things start breaking, and leaking. You hear from your cousin in Seven, you’ve inherited a log cabin and a slice of land on the edge of some woods from a great-aunt you never met.
You weigh your options. You go to the lake and skim stones in the icy water, mulling it over.
To leave Twelve is everyone’s dream. But Lucy Gray. The gentle ghost who lingers over your shoulder. How will she find you, if she ever comes back? You can’t stay here waiting forever.
One bad frost kills your crops, the chill sets into your bones, and you make up your mind. You pack up your herbs and bottles, your books and your clothes, the pinecone you keep beneath your pillow, the silver snake bracelet she gave you many years ago, and you leave. A simple, smudged note sits under the plant pot on the porch, your old hiding place for the spare house key where she’ll know to look:
I’m in the trees. Come find me.
District Seven has more trees than you’ve ever seen. Twelve is known for it’s forests and fields, but these woods are expansive, spanning over miles, trees lined up perfectly, the smell of freshly chopped wood filling your senses.
Every step you took made you wonder if Lucy Gray been here, if the birds in these trees had heard her saccharine voice.
Your herbs sell a lot better in Seven. It’s enough to buy new clothes, and the village is better kept. The people are kind, warm and friendly. You can finally afford to eat your fill. Your cabin at the edge of the woods stays warm and comfortable, the wood is plentiful, you chop your own from the land that’s now yours.
Sometimes when your head spins from the weight of the axe you see movement in the woods, and you wonder. Sometimes you peer inside, certain that it’s her. But she feels so far away from you now, that you can’t help but feel you’ve abandoned her.
You take walks through the forests; you whistle to the birds and listen for the ones who might sing back. You hear nothing. One day, in the town, you walk by a window display with an old, beat-up guitar. It looks well-loved, and something draws you to it. Faded gold paint around the sound hole, strings messy but you go inside and barter, and take it home with you.
You hum some of the old songs she used to sing, try to piece together chords on the strings that aren’t snapped. It sounds like a mess but you play anyway. It feels like a piece of her that you want to keep close to you. You’ve learned to become a collector of sorts.
You’re kept warm through winter, and spring fades into summer. You take the little fishing boat that came with the cabin out on the river, and hike through the forest. You take your guitar with you, and one day, finally, you hear it.
A mockingjay.
It sings your broken tune back to you, bouncing through the pines. A smooth voice cuts through the birdsong.
“Did you miss me?”
Lucy Gray.
Your head spins around. And there she is, smiling, and you fall into her arms.
“I was so scared. I thought you weren’t coming back.”
“I know. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think I would either.”
“But you’re here, you found me! My note, I didn’t know if…”
“The trees.” She grins. “District Seven. It made perfect sense, my love.”
“I can’t believe you’re here. Lucy Gray, you don’t know how happy I am to see you.”
“Oh, I think I do. If you think for a second you’re alone in that, you couldn’t be more wrong. Now,” she adds, nodding at the guitar, “what do we have here?”
You take her onto the river, safer in Seven than you’d ever been in Twelve. She watches as you grind up lavender, the smell filling up the cabin, fascinated as you explain the hobby that you’d turned into work. She fixes your guitar strings, teaches you some simple chords. You sit on the porch, playing while she sings.
“It suits you here, you know.”
“You think so?”
“I do.” She pauses. “I was so sorry to hear about your ma. She was a good woman. She was always kind to me. To everyone.”
“Thank you. I’m okay now, really. I like it here. It’s quiet, peaceful. I think that’s what she’d want for me.”
When she stares up at the sky, birds soaring up above, the rush of the wind through the trees, you can’t help but ask. This is all so perfect, and after so long you can’t bear the thought of her leaving again.
“Do you know how long…”
She smiles.
“Maybe a day or two? If that’s okay.”
You can’t hide your grin. You nod, and she glances up at you.
“Of course that’s okay. More than okay.”
Her fingers press over yours as she demonstrates a final chord. She sits behind you as you strum, grinning at her, head spinning around and she’s so close, it’s almost surreal.
“You did it!” She’s beautiful. Vivid like a daydream, all technicolor.
“That’s all of it?”
“That’s all of it. Just play those four over again and you’ve got yourself a song.”
Your fingers intertwine, hand slipping from the guitar.
“Thank you for teaching me.” You whisper with a smile.
“You’ll remember it, won’t you?” There’s a solemness to it.
You frown.
“Of course I will. I’ll practice all the time.”
“You promise?” Her voice is desperate.
You slide the guitar to the floor and take her hand in yours, clasping it to your chest. Eyes making a silent oath.
“I won’t forget, Lucy Gray. I promise you.”
She nods, corners of her mouth turning up into a smile. You sigh.
“You know I’ve kept everything, don’t you? All of it. Everything I have that reminds me of you.”
“I saw the pinecone on the mantelpiece. Was that from-”
“The time we made the fire in 12? Yeah.”
She lights up.
“You’re such a romantic. I love it. You-”
Your lips press to hers, suddenly overcome with emotion. When you pull away, she sees the tears on your cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” You cry. “I really didn’t, and… I don’t want you to leave, I-”
Her wide eyes fill with apology.
“I know. I wish I didn’t have to leave, sugar. I’m sorry it took me so long this time. I wish I could tell you how much it hurts to be away. It feels like I never really rest, until I’m back with you. Does that make sense?”
You nod, blinking away your tears.
“Will you do something for me, my love?” She presses, soft hands brushing away your tears.
“Anything.”
“Until tomorrow, can we pretend I’m not leaving? Pretend like this is our normal. Like we’ve got all the time in the world.”
You close your eyes, then look at her again, just as quickly, not wanting to waste a precious second.
“All the time in the world.” You whisper back.
True to your word, you make the most of it. She leaves you the next morning. You say a proper goodbye this time, holding her like you’ll never let go. But you do.
Weeks stretch on and you can feel her slipping away again. The birds ease the pain, singing her pretty melodies back to you, like a worn-out record you’ve played on repeat. You throw the windows and doors open, filling the house with summer’s balmy air and the sound of her voice bouncing through the rooms as if she was still there. But soon enough, they forget her dulcet notes, and you’re alone with yourself again.
You track the time through seasons, like you always have. The summer draws to a bittersweet close, and you miss it before it’s fully gone.
You slip back into your routine. You take the boat out alone. The schoolchildren sneak up to your door at times, you hear them whispering. The witch rumours are back in full swing but you don’t mind them. You think it rather suits you. You open the door, much to their horror, and offer them some cookies. They come dutifully back for more on Saturdays, and you appreciate the bit of company.
You keep your promise, and it keeps her alive. You practice the chords she taught you, rough calluses starting to form on your fingers. You trace them at night when the world gets too quiet, and as winter closes in again it gets quieter still. The birds fly away to escape the cold, and you wonder if out there somewhere, she might see them. You find yourself praying the winter isn’t being too cruel to her, wherever she is.
One day, at the market, you’re sat at your stall selling chamomile and sage tea, and you hear her name, like a question in someone’s voice. They remember. They remember her. Your heart swells. You want to scream at the top of your lungs, it’s her. She is the girl you love.
She appears more and more in your dreams, some nights you’re restless, dreaming of her scared, running from something in a dark forest, sometimes you’re there by her side. Other times you wake with a start thinking she’s knocking at your door. You sprint outside into the darkness, barefoot on the damp grass, turning in circles before you catch your breath.
You could make yourself some valerian root tea as a remedy, but you don’t. You don’t mind her living on through your dreams. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.
You’re comforted by this haunting.
She finds you again. She always does.
“I saw the Covey a few months ago.” You tell her, the first night you spend together, lay in your bed, arms and legs a tangled mess, her hand in your hair.
Her eyes light up.
“Did you really? Close to here?”
You nod.
“They weren’t here for long. I’m not sure they recognised me, I was at the back of the room. It was pretty dark.”
Her eyes are wistful, filled with something you think you understand now.
“It all feels like so long ago, doesn’t it? I forget sometimes, just how long it’s been.” She looks to the floor. “And Maude Ivory – was she there? How’d she look?”
“She was.” You grin. “She looked happy. Healthy. She was smiling and dancing the whole night, like she always used to.”
You pause for a second, wondering if you should go back, mention that she, much like you, must still have an emptiness, a gap in her life even after all these years, but it’s like Lucy Gray reads your mind. Always one step ahead.
“That’s good.” She says decidedly. “It’s all I ever wanted for her. To be happy. Free. Thank you for telling me. I… I think about them a lot. About all of it. But I always hoped they’d move on without me.”
You’re quiet when you speak again.
“Lucy Gray, I don’t think anyone could ever move on from you.”
It lingers in the air. You speak up again.
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course you can.”
“When I saw them that night, I stayed for the whole set, because… well, it’s silly,” you confess, “I couldn’t stop watching. I kept thinking that you’d show up. Like they’d just announce your name and they’d all cheer like they did in Twelve. Like you would get up there and sing, and see me in the crowd, and just… smile. Like you’d asked me to be there that night.”
It’s back again, that wistful look of hers.
“I sure wish I had been, sugar. But I think I’d rather be here with you than up on that stage, these days.”
Warmth fills your chest. “Yeah?”
She takes a breath.
“It’s important that people forget me. It’s safer this way. I don’t know what they’d do if they found me, but I know for certain I don’t plan to find out. Maybe one day… well, we’ll have to see. But for now, I could stay a little longer. Would that be okay? If I stayed until the week ends?”
Stay forever, you want to say. But you nod, holding her like she’s already gone.
When she leaves, it’s too soon. Always too soon. You stand in front of the cabin, wishing you could mold your hand around hers and never let go. You kiss her goodbye.
“You didn’t see me here.” She whispers against your lips.
“Not sure I know what you’re talking about.” You respond, and her lips turn into a half-smile.
“Now. Close your eyes.”
You press them shut, feeling her hands slip from yours. When you open them, she’s gone again.
As the years go by, you stop hearing the name Lucy Gray altogether. She starts to feel more like a folk tale; a messy, ink splashed cursive on old parchment. You yearn to speak of her, to keep her legacy alive, but you can’t. You don’t. You remember, though. The world could forget about Lucy Gray Baird, but your memory of her lived on like a still-beating heart, and in turn it kept her alive. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t keep you alive, too.
You make quite the name for yourself, your apothecary bringing in customers from across Seven, sometimes further. So much so, that sometimes you wonder if when she passes through Twelve or Seven, she hears about you and remembers, counting down the days until she gets to come home.
She still haunts your dreams, slipping away as soon as you wake up. But she’ll come back. No matter how many times she leaves. Wherever you go, she’ll find you. She could go anywhere in the world, but she’ll always come back home to you. And you’ll be waiting for her, even if the world curses her name, even if the Covey forgets her too. You understand now. She’s as much yours as you are hers. And when she comes home, it’ll always feel like she never left. And that’s enough for you. It was always enough.
You leave your porch light on.
taglist: (i'm just gonna tag people who showed interest in the excerpt/might like this!) @etfrin @darby-rowe @ohstardew @ohmeadows @sabrinasbd @ctrlovertheworld
#mimi writes! 🕊️#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games#lucy gray baird#lucy gray x reader#lucy gray baird x reader#lucy gray x you#lucy gray baird x you#the hunger games x reader#tbosas x reader#thg tbosas#the hunger games fanfiction#x reader#x you#x you fluff#x you angst#reader insert#itmitc
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What Was I Made For? - Charles Leclerc
<word count - 1251>
Another day: done. Another day that had felt like it had been wasted doing your ever so boring job while you watched pedestrians walk in and out, smiling as their carefree hours whizzed by.
You served coffee after coffee, frappe after frappe, and each one took you an inch closer to insanity. As soon as the clock struck five, you threw your apron into your locker and traded it for your jacket.
Just as you were about to slip out of the employees only back exit, you heard your boss collaring your name. You were just going to pretend you couldn't hear and leave anyway, but there was no ignoring her when she tapped you on the shoulder.
"Y/N, I'm going to need you to put in a few extra hours next week since we're pretty short on staff and we've been really busy lately," she smiled, and the urge to punch her in the face had never been stronger. The last thing you wanted was to put in more hours of your life doing the least rewarding job you had ever had.
"Do I get paid any extra or anything?" you asked. You only did the job for the money, since you liked to have some independence from Charles. As expected, he had offered to support your life since he made more than enough, but you wanted to do something with your life. But this wasn't it.
"Sorry honey, the best I can do is more coffee coupons," she chirped, and you wondered how she was always so cheerful and happy. It was almost envious. Well, it would be if it wasn't so damn infuriating and irritating.
"Just send me through the hours," you tutted, not wasting anymore time in that god forsaken coffee shop than you had to. Walking back home, you couldn't help but frown at all of the people around you, enjoying what they did for a living.
They were all making names for themselves, leading fulfilling lives and living their dreams. And then there was you, serving coffees just finding a way to spend time.
What were you doing with your life? Who were you supposed to be? Why did you have to live through groundhog day every day?
As per usual, you walked past the art gallery, boasting creativity and colour, and the jewellery stores with glittering pieces that you wished you had made. Just so someone would recognize something you had done.
Finally, you arrived at the safe haven that was the apartment you shared with Charles. He wasn't back yet, since he had gone for dinner with some friends for the evening.
You got yourself comfortable, taking a shower and snuggling up on the couch. As you watched a movie, you couldn't help but feel saddened by the actor's success.
They were household names, doing what they loved for a living. And there you were. Sat on your couch counting the hours away.
You just wished you could have been like them - even if just a little bit. Hell, you just wanted to be someone. You just wanted be something.
These thoughts rushed through your head for a while, so much to the point where you failed to notice the movie had ended and you were staring at a blank screen with watery eyes.
You also failed to notice the front door opening and closing as a tear of disdain and jealousy rolled down your cheek. "Hey, amor. How are you?" Charles asked, but you couldn't snap out of your darkened haze.
"Y/N? Are you alright?" He asked again, placing a hand on your shoulder and shaking you slightly.
"What am I doing with my life?" You asked, your eyes still glued to the black screen. You didn't hesitate to ask, there was no point. "What?" he asked, clearly not understanding the question.
"Who am I?" you asked, and Charles just looked at you, trying to figure out what you were asking. This was so out of the blue since you were normally a happy, cheerful kind of person. "Exactly, I'm no one," you said, leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees after he didn't respond.
"I just serve shitty coffee to shitty people and that is my life," you continued, the frustration building as you spoke. "Nobody knows who I am and nobody cares," you rambled, shrugging his hand away.
"Baby, you know that's not true," he said, struggling to come up with something to help you snap out of the stupor. He wondered how long you had felt like this for it to all come out so suddenly and strongly. "There's no point in trying that, Charles. I know it is,"
"I used to be untouchable," you sighed, thinking back to when you met Charles and what had lead up to it. You had worked your ass off like you had through your whole life. You tried hard in school and did everything you could to contribute to your community and others around you.
"I used to be amazing, and now look at me," you babbled. You were living your dream, but you left your job to move to Monaco with Charles. "I threw it all away," you whispered, not wanting Charles to think it was his fault in the slightest.
"But you are amazing," he tried to console, his heart breaking to hear you talk about yourself like this. "Not anymore," you said, thinking about what you could have been. Long distance could have worked and maybe you'd be happy right now.
"You can be whatever you want to be, you know that right?" he asked, not realising what he had set himself up for. "I'm not talented enough to be a singer, I'm not pretty enough to be a model, I'm not charismatic enough to be a talk show host, I'm not driven enough to have my dream be my job like you,"
"Everyone already has their lives planned out and are making leaps and bounds towards their end goal, and then there's me. Wasting my time and wallowing in my own self pity," you sighed, and Charles was wracking his brains for something that might help.
"You're still young, baby, you have loads of time to figure it out. And once you do, you have more than enough to get yourself there because you can do anything you put your mind to," he tried to reassure, mentally cursing at himself for how cheesy that sounded.
He hated that you had this opinion of yourself. To him, it didn't matter if you were the most talented, the prettiest, the most charismatic. It just mattered that you were you and he loved you for that.
"But everyone else has it figured out. Everyone is already someone. You're Charles Leclerc, the face of Ferrari, the man from Monaco, hero to children across the globe. You have a purpose. And what about me? Well that's exactly it, I'm just me,"
"There's no such thing as 'just me'. You are hard-working beyond belief, you take pride in your job, you care about other people, you're the love of my life. Surely that's enough?" he desperately tried to claw you back out of the slump, but his sweet words couldn't shield the darkness this time.
"Maybe it isn't, not anymore," you mumbled, standing from the couch and shutting yourself in the bedroom, leaving Charles sat on the couch by himself, gobsmacked. He didn't know how to help you realise how brilliant you really were, but you didn't really know either.
A/N - I went to see Barbie the other night, and this song just destroyed me. I guess it just made me think about things, y'know? If anyone has any requests, feel free to submit them, I adore writing them!
|masterlist|
#f1#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x reader#charles leclerc#fluff#formula 1#f1 imagines#formula 1 imagines#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc imagines#charles leclerc fic#cl16
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Pairing: dbf!joel x f!reader
Summary: The next morning you wake up confused about the previous night. You have to start making your life better, and doing tequila shots the first night home didn’t help.
Content warnings: eventual smut, 18+ only mdni!, eventual smut, mean Joel, enemies to lovers, daddy issues galore, swearing, hangovers, red thongs trying to be stolen, reader tried to smack Joel but that didn’t end good, Joel was nice for like 2 seconds, then mean Joel came out.
Word Count: 3.3K
A/N: Thank you all for the patience with me on this! I’m so ready to continue and show you were this is going. I love you. Enjoy 🖤
With the morning sun pouring into your small bedroom window, you felt a leg under yours, brows furrowed at the spare body parts. Fuck. What did I do last night? You lift your head and turn it to the right, noticing the messy head of black curls and suddenly your eyes go wide. Tommy. Did I fuck Tommy last night? Soft snores came from his body while he lay there completely unaware of your internal panicking.
Tucking in your arms under you to give you a boost up and out of bed, Tommy rolls over and grabs the pillow, suffocating it between his arms and chest. As you stand there with your hand covering your mouth, you wondered just how you got yourself into this mess. Maybe it was the tequila shots, maybe it wasn’t. Who’s to say?
It was in fact, the tequila shots.
How could you have been so careless, having sex with the second good looking guy you laid eyes on the moment you got back home. First, first good looking guy you laid your eyes on.
The bathroom door closes behind you and you press your back against it, mind racing at how to handle this whole situation. Your feet tapped against the cold tile as you paced back and forth.
What were you going to tell Tommy when he woke up thinking you wanted to be something, expecting to be a regular sleeper in your bed?
Your hand covers your mouth in disbelief. What the fuck am I gonna do?
A deep breath enters your lungs as a boost of confidence that you can be straightforward with him about this. I’ve got this. You grab the doorknob and turn it to open the door, head poking out first to find Tommy still snoring away. He didn’t move one bit. Lightly tapping his shoulder, you grew impatient at the efforts going to waste. This wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t have to go job hunting today, like you promised yourself you would.
With your bunny slippers trampling through the damp grass to Joel’s front door, you adjusted and tightened your robe only about a million times to make sure nothing was showing or sticking out. It was already 9:33 A.M, surely Joel has been awake for hours, right? He’s an older man and they are always up early for who fucking knows what. With your hand switching from beating on the door and ringing the doorbell, someone was bound to answer. The front door flies open to a very grumpy looking Joel, yanking down the rest of his shirt to cover his abdomen.
“Can you please come get your brother from my bed? I need to go job hunting today and he isn’t waking up. It may have something to do with the tequila shots.” You scratched the back of your neck, too embarrassed to look at him.
A scoff leaves his lips and he shakes his head slowly. “Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. Talk to me all crazy n’ shit last night but now you need my help for your benefit? And for the record, I don’t doubt he’s still sleeping. I fuckin’ heard you two going at it all night after I specifically told you not to keep me up all night. So no, I’m not helping. See ya.” The door was just about closed when you put your hand between it and the door frame to make Joel choose whether or not he wanted to crush your hand.
“Move. Your hand.” His nostrils flared slightly, his eyes shooting daggers into you.
“No. Come get your brother or I’ll make being my neighbor a living hell for you.” No more jokes, no more bullshit was coming from you. If you didn’t find a job soon, you’d just be giving your dad more ammunition to use in the future when he talks about how disappointed he is with you.
Joel’s fingers tapped against the door while he contemplated if he wanted to get roped into this or not. “I swear to fuckin’ god little girl, this better be the first and last time I’m gonna have to do this. Don’t drag him into your shit.” With one swift move he was walking down the porch steps on his way to your bedroom, muttering some bullshit under his breath. When he reaches your room he notices the door slightly shut and he looks to you to tell him to go in. “He’s not..naked…is he?” He whispers to you.
“Not that I’m aware of…but now that you mention it I don't remember honestly.” You whispered back, staring at the ground.
The amount of restraint Joel had to use to not shout at you right then and there for not remembering was astronomical. His calloused palm flies to his forehead and smacks it roughly. “You are a pain in my fuckin’ ass and you haven’t even been here a week!” He whispers louder at you as he shoves the door open and takes a few steps inside. With his hand covering his eyes in case his younger brother's bare ass was out, he stopped where he felt was the middle of your room.
“Tommy, get up. Cmon. Get dressed. Up, let’s go.” His foot reached out until it stopped on the box spring and he nudged it a few times to get Tommy moving. Soon enough Tommy rolled over and took the sheet with him, his black boxers poking out slightly.
“Would you stop, he’s not naked.” You hiss and yank Joel’s hand off his face. A small gasp came from him as he opened his eyes and was met with a still half asleep Tommy.
“Tommy, let’s go man; wake your ass up!” Joel groans and shakes the hell out of his shoulder, obtaining groans from his brother.
He turns his head upwards to look at Joel, eyes slowly blinking open. “Joel? What’re you doin’- wait, did we tag team her like we did that one g-” His words were immediately ceased with Joel’s hand covering Tommy’s lips quickly, loud shushing drowning out his voice. “Get up, we’re leaving so Miss princess can go find a job and be a productive member of society like the rest of us common folk.” Joel bent down and threw whatever clothes were in a pile by his feet at Tommy, hoping and praying he’d get dressed and they can get the hell outta there and Joel can get on with his day.
“This isn’t mine, but I’d love to keep it..” Tommy held up your red thong from the previous night's escapades and your face got feverish to the touch, your hands covering your face to shield you from the embarrassment.
Joel smacks the back of his head and tells him to knock it off. “Hurry up, I’ll be back at the house. He turns to look at you who still had your face covered. With a firm bump of his forearm against yours, you lowered them and sighed.
“For your sake and mine, don’t invite him over again. Next time he’s your problem to deal with.” Surprisingly to you his tone wasn’t harsh for once, more of a sympathetic ring to it this time.
“Ye-yeah I won’t. Thanks again.” Taken aback by his semi sweet piece of advice, you nodded towards the door. “I should let you out so you can get back to your day.” With your hands in your back pockets as you walked him to the front door, you could still hear Tommy stomping around upstairs, trying what sounded like putting on his shoes. You looked at your phone to see if you missed any new texts from your dad, not a single message. You told him you’d be finding a job today but did he care to respond, tell you good luck, anything? No. Why would he? Joel must’ve been able to tell something was wrong because his frame softened along with his face, brows unfurrowed.
“You uh..you okay?” He asked, cocking his head to the side just a tad to see your face while you looked at your phone.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” you coldly answer, pushing the front screen door open for him. He wanted to press the situation further but stopped himself. It was no secret you were bothered by something but he couldn't guess what it was. “I’m going to your dads here in a bit to talk about where he wants this fuckin’ pool for Janet.” His brown eyes rolled slightly as he let out a breathy chuckle. With his hand pressed against the screen door to prop it open and walk out to the porch, Joel stops and stands still for a moment before turning back around to look at you.
“You sure nothin’ is wron-”
He was cut off by Tommy marching down your stairs to the front door, stopping in front of you. “You, little lady. No more tequila shots for me, ever again.” He laughs, his gorgeous smile playing to his lips. Your stomach started to turn and have a funny feeling inside. Maybe it was the fact you really weren’t all that interested in Tommy. Yeah you banged him last night, but before that happened you two sat up for hours and talked while pouring sloppy shots of more tequila. He told you about him and how he worked so closely with Joel, his beautiful niece Sarah and how she was like the daughter he never had.
“So maybe I’ll see you later?” The eagerness in his voice was so prominent it hurt that much more. “Uhh..maybe. We’ll talk soon, promise.”
You kiss his cheek and send him and Joel on their way back across the grass to Joel’s house.
Frustration and confusion course through your veins while you press your back against the front door, trying to make sense of what’s happened within the last 48 hours. It was almost 10:30 when you realized you should probably wash yourself before you go out all afternoon.
With just enough time to spare to smoke a cigarette to calm your nerves before leaving the house, you look over to Joel’s driveway and see his truck is gone. He was probably at your dads house by now, telling him all about this morning and how you’re the worst neighbor already. Who cares what your dad has to say to that though, you’re a grown ass adult and you can do what you want.
You smooth your hair down one last time in the reflection of the window before you flick the half smoked cigarette and blow the smoke from your mouth. Reaching into your purse you pull out the squashed packet of gum that was half gone. The sweet notes of mint dance to your nose as you unwrap the piece and toss it in your mouth, discarding the paper back into the package. Still no message from your dad the last time you checked. You probably should’ve never messaged him about it, he was never going to care like he pretends. Getting in your car and cranking the air and still painfully getting used to the heat once again, you put on your music and begin driving around all over town to find a decent job somewhere in this hellhole.
With the afternoon sun slowly going down, you huffed as you sunk back into your car after being denied from the seventh business to get a job. You could feel your luck fading with every declining response, the fear of being more of a disappointment creeping up on you like a scary shadow in the dark. The warm steering wheel held your head as you leaned forward to take a breath.
Back at your dad’s house, Joel’s putting his things away back in his little tool bag he carries in his truck for shit like this. He hates being unprepared, it’s not a good look for himself.
“So have you talked to your daughter recently?” Joel casually brings up as he puts away his tape measure.
“Yeah, she texted me earlier this morning about finding a job but I don’t know about all that. She’s not what these people are lookin’ for. She’s always late and she flakes, she can never amount to anything and she doesn’t put her mind to it. She quits when the going gets tough, s’why she ran away from here all those years ago to follow her mother across the country. Told her it was a stupid idea and she’d regret it and now look where she’s at. Back here in Texas with me.” Your dad laughs like anything he just said was remotely funny. Joel stopped putting tools away the moment your dad started to talk shit about his own flesh and blood, the only one of his kids that continues to acknowledge his existence. Even though Joel was still very pissed about last night and this morning, he didn’t think it was right for your dad to be talking about you like that, especially to him, a complete stranger to you.
He had to bite the inside of his cheek as he thought long and hard about what to say next.
“But you did respond and tell her good luck or somethin’ right? Sure she’s nervous and it sounds like she wants to get it right this time.” He looks over at your dad who was watching the birds fly away from the trees, his red polarized sunglasses he got from the gas station years ago shielding his eyes from Joel’s.
“No, I didn’t. She’ll be fine. Can’t hold her hand forever Joel. Plus I don’t know if they’d want her to work for them. They all heard the same thing I told you, can’t help that I know everyone in town and they wanna know my life.” He laughs again and Joel can feel his jaw clench together.
“Alan, man cmon that’s messed up. You just said you can’t hold her hand forever but you aren’t helping her grow up either by doin’ that.”
Your dad just waves Joel off and chuckles, turning to look at him, “She’ll be fine.” Something told Joel you wouldn’t be though.
On your drive home you skipped going back to your cozy hideaway and opted for the bar from last night, just having a taste for a beer. A single beer, no more tequila shots…for now. You sit down on the stool and turn yourself until you’re facing the bartender who just happened to be Michelle. There was a gnawing feeling at you, like you needed to apologize for putting Joel in a funk last night.
“What can I getcha sweeth-” Her words silenced when she was face to face with you. Giving her a small wave, you took a deep breath, trying not to mix up your words. “I think we got off on the wrong foot and I’d really like to start over. I didn’t mean to step on your toes last night about your bar. I think it’s cute and for the record, Joel isn’t watching over me, he’s my dads best friend and yes we’re neighbors but I don’t want to fuck him and he doesn’t want to fuck me- he actually can’t even stand to be around me and that’s mutual so I-”
“Okay, enough- stop it!” Michelle raises her voice and looks at you closely.
“What do you care if I like you or not darlin’?”
Your fingers comb your hair back and fall to the bar top, smoothing over an imperfection you managed to find. “I don’t want bad blood with anyone, that’s all. I’m already having a tough time finding a job and my dad- I’m sorry. I don’t mean to dump my problems onto you. I just don’t want the list of people wishing to see me fall on my ass grow. She was pouring you a diet coke and tossed a little straw in it, setting it down in front of you before leaning on her hands that were on the curve of the bar top.
“You said you needed a job?” The fizzy drink rolls down your throat and you nod fast. You can see she’s thinking of something in her head, the way she's biting at her fingernail slightly and her eyes are scanning back and forth.
“Come back tonight for training and wear something sexy but nothing too crazy..it’s a bar not a porno.” Michelle raises an eyebrow at you and walks to the back with empty bottles, leaving you sitting in the stool alone and your half drank coke dripping with condensation. With your lips fishing for the straw, you sucked the rest of the liquid down and left a ten dollar bill under the cup and immediately got into your car to drive home.
As you pull up to your house, you notice Joel’s truck is still gone, and no Sarah in sight. Wonder where she is…
Almost all of your clothes were tossed onto the floor while you tried to piece together a cute outfit. You landed on a black pleather halter top with laces in the front and black skin tight pleather pants. The black cowgirl boots your mom got you as a joke were finally making their way out of the box and onto some concrete. As you curled your hair and put it in a messy Pam Anderson inspired bun, you felt sexier than ever in weeks, maybe months. Bartending was all new to you but you’d like to think you learned new stuff quickly. With all of your touchup makeup packed away and about ten sprays of body spray, you were ready.
The gravel in Joel’s driveway crunched under his tires and he put it in park. You peaked from the bathroom window so he wouldn’t see you, it looked like he was on the phone.
Your chunky boot heels thump against the stairs and off you were out the door, ready to go to the first job you’ve been scared of doing. You cover your eyes from the warm setting sun and look at Joel through his truck window. He sighed and got out, immediately growing and looking away. “Where in the hell are you going? You better not be goin’ to Tommy’s I swe-”
“Uuugh nooo I’m not and if I was, who are you to stop me?” You fire back, your purse dangling slightly.
“Hey! I’m just trying- you know what? Forget it. How did the um..job hunting go?” Still not looking directly at you but in your direction, you told him how shitty it was. “Well um ya see..”
“But it’s totally okay because I stopped at Michelle's bar on the way home and she offered me a job. That’s where I’m going right now actually!” The excitement dripping from your words was like nails on a chalkboard to him considering how wide his eyes got.
“You’ve got to be fuckin’ jokin’. You can’t seriously be working there?” He rubs his eyes out of frustration and groans loudly. Your smile slowly faded and you could feel the fiery ball of anger growing inside you.
“What is the fucking issue?”
“Do you have to be everywhere in my life every damn time I turn around, Jesus christ! I mean, the first night you’re here you’re dumped on me and then you bang my brother, insult my girl’s bar and then turn around and work there? What goes through your fucking head sometimes?”
He puts his hand on his hips and stares at you, waiting for some sort of answer. You meet him halfway in the grass right on the property line and raise your hand to smack him for talking to you like that when he catches your wrist in midair, shoving it back down to your side.
“Fuck you! I didn’t ask for him to dump me on you! Newsflash, you’re friends with a dickhead! Michelle was the one who hired me and last time I checked it’s her bar, old man. Not yours. See you fucking never, asshole.” Just when you felt a sliver of hope of maybe ever mending this weird thing with Joel, he shoves his foot in his mouth and misspeaks, taking you right back to square one of not liking him.
#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller x you#the last of us#joel miller angst#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#daddy joel#dbf!joel#dbf! joel miller#dbf joel miller x f reader#joel the last of us#pedro pascal joel miller#code red#chaotic mystery
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I hope you’re having a good day and that your mojo runs strong ✨
Do you suppose we could have some mild angst comfort where the reader is a witch and (gently but firmly) confronts Donnie about his indifference towards magic? Like, they understand that mystics just aren’t his thing, but the way he kind of treats it like a joke or tries to explain it with science bothers them, because magic isn’t just something they dabble in, it’s their lifeblood.
Please, and thank you 🔮
Magical Intervention
Donnie + gn!reader
Warning: witch!reader, slight angst, Donnie apologizes, swearing, super short ngl
A/N: December is here... Feels weird...
Donnie had always kind of made fun of your magic. He always tried to explain away your spells with science. You hated it. You didn't even know why he was like this, his brothers couldn't tell you either. So you eventually got sick of it and decided to ask him about it.
You grabbed a spare chair and roll up to him. "Can I help you?" He asks, turning to look at you for moment before turning back to whatever he was working on.
"I actually wanted to talk to you about something." You answer, fidgeting a little. He looks intimidating, resting bitch face, goggles down, covered in oil and soot. Can anyone really blame you?
Donnie frown a little, lifting his goggles to look at you. "Okay?"
"Why do you hate magic?" You question simply.
Donnie raises an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing with a mix of annoyance and disbelief. He tilts his head to the side, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, please do enlighten me. Why would I, the great Donatello Hamato, have any disdain for the mystical and whimsical world of magic?" He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Simple, my dear. Science is the epitome of reason, logic, and understanding. It follows a set of rules, laws, and principles that can be tested, observed, and replicated. Magic, on the other hand, is nothing by smoke and mirrors, a mere illusion designed to deceive the feeble-minded. Why would I waste my time on something so... Unpredictable and unreliable when I have the wonders of science at my fingertips?"
"But it's who I am. It's in my blood." You reply, sitting up and frowning at him. "Science to me is like magic to you. My family is full of magical people, including me."
Donnie's eyes widen slightly, surprised by your words. He takes a moment to process what you've said, and a hint of curiosity flickers in his expression. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, his voice a mix of intrigue and skepticism. "Well, if it's in your blood, then it's part of who you are. I suppose I can understand that. But you must understand that my faith lies in the tangible, it what can be measured and understood. Magic, to me, is enigma, and unexplained phenomenon that defies the laws of science. It challenges everything that I believe in." He pauses, his gaze meeting yours. "But I won't deny that there might be more to it than what I can comprehend. After all, the world is a vast and mysterious place, is it not?"
"Of course it is. And I know I'll never be as good with science as you are. But... I wish you'd stop treating magic as a joke and explain away my abilities with science." Your gaze stays locked with his, explaining gently. "It makes me feel like you think of me as a joke."
Donnie's expression softens, his eyes showing a hint of remorse. He uncrosses his arms and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table in front of him. "Look, I never meant to make you feel like a joke. I may have a tendency to dismiss magic, but that doesn't mean I dismiss you. Your abilities, your uniqueness, they are what makes you who you are. And I respect that." He pauses, searching for the right words. "I may not understand or appreciate magic, but I can recognize its significance in your life. And I... I apologize if I ever made you feel otherwise."
"I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I just... I've been wanting to explain it and let you know how I've felt." You sigh, feeling a weight listed off your shoulders.
"Well, I appreciate your honesty. It takes courage to express your feelings and I'm glad you did. Communication is key after all." Donnie nods, a faint smile playing on his lips. He stands, walking over to you, wrapping into his arms. "Thank you for giving me the opportunity to understand you better."
#{fish answers•°}#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise donnie#rottmnt#rottmnt x reader#rottmnt donatello#rottmnt donnie x reader#rottmnt donnie#rise donatello#rise x reader#rise of the turtles#teenage mutant ninja turtles donnie#donnie hamato#donnie x reader#donnie tmnt#donatello x reader#donatello hamato#tmnt donatello#donnie x you#donnie x y/n#future donatello x reader#donatello x y/n#donatello x you#save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#save rise of the tmnt#save rottmnt#unpause rise of the tmnt#unpause rottmnt#unpause rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles
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So umm... I felt like writing a little fairytale-type story. Something short but impactful.
I wrote this all in one sitting, very late at night. So I hope you like it:
There was a girl who fell in love with death. On the night her mother's illness finally took her, the girl saw the mysterious figure sneak in through the window. And as a chilling breeze swept through the room, she gazed upon death's looming figure with awe and adoration.
"Young lady," said death, "I am here to collect your mother's immortal soul. Surely I do not deserve to be looked upon with such love?"
The girl merely smiled and said, "Maybe so, but I have never seen such beauty before. Surely someone so beautiful is deserving of love?"
But death was not beautiful. Not beautiful at all. And yet...
Death took pity on the girl. If she spent her whole life chasing him, then she would waste away, until it was her turn to pass away, like her mother before her. So death made her a promise.
"I cannot control your heart, my lady, that much is beyond my power. But you must live your life, and once a year on this date, I shall return to you, and show you the wonders I have seen."
The girl accepted the offer, overjoyed at the prospect. So, for the remainder of the year she continued her life as if nothing had changed. And when death returned as promised, she was waiting for him.
And so death enacted his plan. He showed her the most terrifying, tragic, and gruesome deaths he had ever encountered; as if the girl were experiencing them herself. Surely, thought death, this would restore her fear, and he could return to his work. The girl took a steadying breath. She wiped the tears from her eyes. And she embraced death, warmly.
"Thank you," she said, "I have never known such thrill and exhilaration, such melancholy, such eye-opening despair. You have shown me feelings deeper than I have ever felt before! How lucky I am to have such a generous love!"
Death was mortified, embarrassed. But what could he say? How rude it would be to tell the girl she was wrong.
"You are most welcome," said death, "and I look forward to our next meeting."
And so it was. Every year the girl grew more and more into a strong and kind woman; and every year death showed her his worst. She thanked him, and they parted. On the fifth year, death floated into her home on the eve of her cousin's wedding. As he rode the biting cold into her room, she turned to meet him, and what a sight she was...
The moon illuminated her hair, black as night. Her dress was as scarlet as a man's last drop of blood. She held a bouquet of flowers. Death had never before beheld such beauty.
"Death!" She said, cheerfully greeting him as an old friend, "I wasn't sure what your favourite flower was, so I just got one of everything that was in season!"
Death had never been given flowers before, and in so many vivid colours. When he reached for the bouquet, however, every last bloom withered and died. The bouquet crumbled between his fingers.
"Oh, I see..." Said the girl, disappointment marring her beautiful face for just a moment.
"It's alright," said death, looking into her eyes, into her very soul, "the most beautiful things in the world are fragile. They do not last forever."
When death finished showing her his worst, he helped to dry the girl's tears.
"Thank you," said the woman, "how lucky I am, to have such a generous love."
"You are most welcome," said death, "I shall count the days until our next meeting."
On another year, when death entered the her home, the woman was frantic. She ran ragged all about her bedroom, and when she heard death enter, she slammed something shut.
"What are you hiding, my lady?" Said death.
"Nothing," she insisted, "nothing at all! I would never hide something from you!"
Death had seen this coming.
Many-a-mortal had tried to trick him in his time, to mislead him, to stab him in the back. But in all his millennia, none had stooped so low as to first attempt to gain his trust.
Death was ruthless in the visions he showed the woman, the things he forced her to witness, the choices he had her make. He showed her the pinnacle of humanity's evil, the very worst of death.
Until finally, he dangled the woman from the edge of the world's tallest cliff, just beyond which was a sheer drop into the roiling ocean below. He asked her a question.
"Do you fear me, mortal? Do you finally fear me now? Are you afraid of death?"
Darkness fell over the cliff, and the wind lashed icy cold at the woman's skin, as she teetered on the precipice between being, and not.
"Of course I do!" the woman cried, brokenly.
With a crack like lightning, they were back in the woman's home. Where death cast her to the floor, and she crumpled into a terrified heap.
"Then you have learned your lesson. No one can deceive death."
"Deceive you?," Cried the woman, "when did I ever deceive you!"
Death was enraged.
"The petty hubris of man! Even now you feign innocence! You were hiding something when I arrived, but you cannot fool me! Many have tried, and failed, to assassinate me, trick me into a deal, a game, all to gain immortality! Ha! The fools knew not of what they asked!"
The woman was silent, sullen. From her back pocket, she pulled out a carved wooden box, and stretched out her hand.
"Take it," she said, and death snatched it from her grip, "You would like to know what I was hiding? Open it."
Death opened the box, expecting to find a dagger, or a neatly folded net, or a vial of poison.
It was a hyacinth flower. But it was not as it seemed. When death picked it up, it did not whither and die. Instead, it reflected the light of the slowly rising sun, creating dancing patterns of colourful light.
It was made of glass.
"It's still fragile," said the woman, "and I doubt it will last forever either. I still do not know your favourite flower. But hyacinths were my mother's. Do you know the story of Hyacinthus?"
Death knew every story ever told, for he was eternal.
"No," said death, "would you kindly tell it to me?"
And so the woman told death the story of the prince Hyacinthus, who was the love of the Greek god Apollo. Of how, jealous of Apollo, and wanting the prince for himself, Zephyr the West Wind killed the prince. Apollo, grief-stricken, holding the dying prince in his arms, turned him into a flower.
A hyacinth.
The woman sighed, and death noticed for the first time, that one of her hairs was not black. It was grey.
"I am sorry that you so often see the worst of humanity," she said, "but you have to understand, you must be willing to trust others. Or else, how could anyone ever hope to prove themselves good to you?"
Death had never shed a tear before that day.
"My lady," he asked, "may I give you a gift as well?"
"Of course, my darling," said the woman.
Death held her as gently as he held the glass flower she had given to him. And he kissed the woman, on that glorious morning.
"There now," said death, "I have given you my blessing. Now through your every misfortune, every tragedy, every impromptu fit of despair; know that I am beside you. Know how much I love you."
The woman held him tightly, and wetted his robe with tears. "Thank you," she said, "how lucky I am, to have such a generous love."
"You are most welcome," said death, "I shall count your every breath until next we meet."
The years went by, and death visited the woman for each of them. They made numerous memories together, joyous, miserable, and all that rests gently, quietly, in between. The woman lived a full and wonderful life, until she was old and grey.
Death, cloaked as always in shadow, riding a frigid gust of wind, floated into the woman's window.
"Death, my darling, you're early," said the woman.
"I know," said death.
"Ah," said the woman, "I see."
"My lady, my love," said death, "before I do this, I must ask of you, one question. How was it that you saw beauty in me, on the night I took your mother's soul? And how was it, then, that I could never scare you away with my visions?"
"Ah," said the woman, "I was wondering when you were going to ask me that. You see, death, everyone was so afraid, when mother became ill. Afraid she would suffer, afraid we would become destitute, afraid for father, afraid she would be damned to hell. Do you know what I was afraid of?"
"What?" Said death.
"That when she died, when that time came, that she would be all alone. You have seen so much cruelty, death my darling. So many horrid people, so many horrid fates. You have shown me them all. Yes, it has made you slow to trust, but frankly I was surprised you had any light left in you at all. To see all of that, to endure it, for as long as life has existed, and still have kindness in your heart - pity, for the girl who fell in love with death - that is beautiful."
Death sighed fondly for his love. His mortal love.
"Are you afraid, my love? Do you fear your death?"
"Of course I do, my darling," she said, "what person does not? But I do not fear you. You want to know why you could never scare me away? Because for every death you showed me, no matter how terrifying, how gruesome, how horribly tragic; you were right by their side. Lighting the way in the dark. You were there to guide every last poor and wayward soul to the next world.
Of course I am afraid of dying, my darling, but that is why I am so glad to have you here with me. To hold my hand. To be my light in the dark."
And so death took her hands, gnarled and marked with age, with experience, with life.
"Thank you" said death, "How lucky I am, to have such a generous love."
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