#he spent an entire period doing that last week

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 17: Alone

Summary: Your pack has left on their first deployment since you joined them, leaving you alone on base.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,866

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, ANGST, anxiety, fear, nightmares, PTSD, trauma, just super depressing overall.

A/N: I'm so ready for these next two chapters, you have no idea. Things are happening, things are gonna happen, it's just...so good. You'll see 🤭. They're pretty heavy chapters emotionally, but don't worry fluff will be coming very soon. I won't leave you hanging too much for too long.

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“We'll only be gone for a few days. A week at most. Dr. Keller will take you to and from meals and anywhere else you may need to go. If you need anything, contact Kate. We'll call when we can.” 

He leaves you with a kiss to your forehead. You’re forced to stand there and watch his back as he boards the plane, the ramp closing and sealing you off from them. They all looked guilty, as if it was their fault they had to leave, as if they were suffering as much as you at the idea of parting, even just for a short period of time.

You don't sleep that night. You lay in your bed and stare at the ceiling until far too late when you decide to abandon it for John's room instead. You slip under the covers, disrupting the immaculately made bed as you surround yourself with his scent. You’re on edge, the barracks far too quiet, far too empty. Every little sound has you tensing, holding your breath. The door is locked, yet it’s not the same without your pack there to protect you. If you scream, no one will hear you now. 

You manage to fall asleep at some point in the early hours, your mind plagued with horrible nightmares of monsters devouring and tearing you apart. 

You wake with the sun, dragging your feet back to your room. You miss the quiet sounds of your boys getting ready in the morning after their workouts, taking extra care not to be too loud. Now you wish for it. You want them to be loud and wake you, because then they’d be here with you. The hallway feels too empty, the barracks too large. You’ve spent plenty of time alone in the barracks, but it’s never felt like this. They’re not just across base from you, they’re probably in an entirely different country. 

You stare at their closed doors, all four of them feeling like voids knowing the rooms behind them are empty. Even Ghost’s closed door feels particularly empty. 

You shuffle into your room, locking the door behind you as you get ready for the day. You’re not quite sure what you’re going to do, now that you don’t have them around. You suppose you could just go about your day as you usually do while they’re at training, except you won’t have their inevitable return to fetch you for meals to look forward to. 

It’ll be days before you see them again. 

If you see them again. 

You force that thought back into the recesses of your mind. You won’t entertain it, not now while you’re still trying to process the fact that they’re gone. Even if it is a possibility. 

You’re sitting on your bed when the knock comes, clutching your phone in your hand. You don’t want to be without it, in case they call. You don’t want to miss a chance to talk to them, especially if it’s your only chance. Or a call from Kate telling you something happened.

You open the door, Dr. Keller standing in the hallway with a small smile on her face. It doesn’t feel strange having her in this space, even with the rest of your pack gone. She’s been here before, and you trust her. 

“How are you doing?” She asks as you step out of your room, closing the door behind you. 

“I don’t know.” You say, letting out a sigh. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” 

“I don’t blame you. Feels strange, being alone here, huh?” 

You nod. “Yeah. It’s too quiet. Too empty.” 

“I bet.” You follow her out of the barracks and into the cool morning air. “Let’s get some food in you and then you can take it easy for the rest of the day. I know this is a big adjustment, and it happened rather suddenly.” 

“Was gonna happen eventually, though.” You say. “For the three months I was with the CIA, they drilled it into my head that their job would always take priority over everything else. Still sucks.” 

“It does. Separation is hard for everyone in a pack, even if it’s short term. Add on the stress of their jobs and I can only imagine what it’s like.” 

“I’m trying not to think about that.” You say. 

“I think that’s the best thing you can do right now.” She squeezes your arm. “Come on, we’ll get the food to go and we’ll eat in my office. I usually do that anyway. It’s much quieter than the mess.” 

You get your breakfast, following Dr. Keller to the medical center. You are silently glad you won’t have to eat in the mess without the protection of your pack. The stares from the others might have been your tipping point, and without Ghost to scare them off, you’re sure it would have only been worse.  

“Make yourself at home.” Dr. Keller says, letting you into her office. “You can sit at the desk to eat, if that’s more comfortable. I don’t mind.” 

You take her up on the offer, sitting in the chair across from hers at the desk. She moves some papers out of the way before taking a seat herself. It feels almost strange, being so informal in her office, but then again, she’s always been more laid back with the formality between the two of you. 

“If there’s one thing I miss, it’s good diner food.” Dr. Keller says as the two of you begin to eat. 

You stare down at your porridge for a moment, having gotten used to the change in food over the last almost nine weeks. “I miss a lot of things.” 

“Would you ever want to go back and visit America?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You shrug. “I don’t know.” 

“I’m sure they’d take you, if you asked.” She smiles as you stare up at her in surprise. “I don’t think there’s much they wouldn’t do, if you asked. They care about you a lot.” 

“I’m starting to realize that.” You say. 

“Good. It’s reassuring to see such strong, natural bonds forming between all of you, despite how the situation came about. You’ve made a lot of good progress already, even with the few bumps in the road.” 

It falls silent between the two of you as you eat, finishing your breakfast. Your stomach churns with anxiety, hand closing around the phone in your pocket as if it might ring at any moment. It makes you sick, the thought of what they might be doing, what might be happening right at this very moment. 

“Can I ask you something?” You break the silence, needing to take your mind off your swirling thoughts. 

“Of course.” She says, looking up from the papers she’d been looking through. 

“Since I’m your only patient, what do you do all day?” You ask. 

She smiles. “I do a lot of things. After our sessions I log the notes I take and read over them, I make sure your medical chart is up to date, I read through a lot of studies and journals on new research and methods that may be helpful, I talk to colleagues all over the world, including here on base, and I sometimes go around the medical center and sit in on meetings and classes to keep my skills sharp.” 

“Do you ever feel like you’re wasting your skills here?” 

She shakes her head. “No. Before I took this job, I was caring for sometimes over one hundred omegas at various institutes. It was a high stress environment with long hours. While it was fulfilling work, there’s a high turnover rate for Omega Specialists in that field for a reason. Being a private doctor is a bit of a relief after that, and truthfully, the pay is considerably better.” She folds her arms on her desk, leaning forward. “It’s no less fulfilling than working at institutes. It’s nice to have the time to put together the best care plan for you and your needs.” 

“It is nice having an Omega Specialist to myself.” You say. “There were several at the institute, a lot of students doing their residency. They weren’t always...good at their jobs. A lot of them were just going through the motions, doing what the more experienced specialists told them to do.” 

“Unfortunately that’s rather common with residents.” She says. “Most of them don’t make it past residency. Like a lot of specialities in medicine, it takes a certain kind of personality to succeed as an Omega Specialist. Not everyone has it in them. I wish more schools and programs would take notice earlier before they get to their residencies and steer them down a different path.” She smiles at you. “Now my question for you. Would you rather hang out in here today, or would you prefer to go back to the barracks? You won’t hurt my feelings either way, nor will you be a bother.” 

You think about it for a moment. While your knee jerk answer is to go back to the barracks, what are you going to do? Sit alone in the silence and worry until it makes you sick? Sit in the rec room and watch TV alone and worry about your boys until the next meal time? As much as you want to be alone, you also don’t want to be alone. 

“I’d...like to stay here, if that’s okay?” You finally say, making your decision. 

“More than okay.” She smiles. “Make yourself at home, do whatever you’d like. Watch YouTube videos, dig into some books, take a nap. You won’t bother me in the slightest. You’re always welcome to hang out in here.” 

You look over the titles on the bookshelf, picking one that looks interesting before settling on the couch. You spend the day with Dr. Keller, relaxing in her office and going to meals with her. It doesn’t calm the anxious thoughts by much, but at least the loneliness is abated a bit. 

You return to the barracks after dinner, debating whether you should sit in the rec room or just go to your room. The rec room feels too open, too exposed without the safety of your pack, so instead you choose to retreat into your room, locking the door behind you. 

You let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping as tears gather in your eyes. Another night without them, another night without the safety and comfort of their presence around you. Another night knowing they’re not on the other side of the wall, a knock or a yell away. 

You fight the panic starting to bubble as you get ready for bed, your mind swirling with thoughts of something happening, someone breaking in, someone taking advantage of their absence to get to you. You know it’s an irrational fear. Most of the alphas on base ignore your existence, aside from the couple incidents you’ve had with them. The most they do is stare, though that’s to be expected as an omega. 

What if they’re holding back something more sinister, though? What if the only thing stopping them is your pack? This would be their opportune moment. 

You’re shaking, eyes wide in fear as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Sure, you’ve learned a few ways to defend yourself, but could you really utilize them? If the moment called for it, could you defend yourself enough to get away? Where would you go? Dr. Keller won’t be in her office all night. Could you run and seek protection from another medical professional that was still working? Could you find a different high ranking official on base and hope they’d help you? Could you go for the guards at the gate and hope they help you? 

Or would it be safer to run for the woods? Try to lose whichever alpha decided to attack you and hope you don’t get lost in the trees? You would just have to survive the night, and Dr. Keller would notice you missing come morning. What would she do, though? Call Kate? It’s not like the guys could just come home and help you. Would Kate even tell them something happened and put them at risk of getting distracted? What if something happened to them because of you? 

You turn the shower on as cold as it will go, stepping under the spray in your pajamas. You sink to the floor of the shower, letting the cold water snap you out of your panic and prevent you from distressing. No one’s coming through the door, no one’s going to try and hurt you. 

Your teeth are chattering by the time you reach up to turn the water off. Violent shivers rock your body, your hands and feet numb. You take deep breaths, feeling more awake and aware than you have since yesterday. 

The panic has dropped to almost nothing, your shaking now due to the fact you’re freezing. You strip out of your wet clothes, leaving them in the tub as you wrap a towel around yourself. You’re still shivering violently as you change into warmer pajamas, opting for one of John’s shirts and sweatpants. 

You slip under the covers of your bed, piling every blanket you own on top of the covers before tucking yourself against your giant bear. You won’t sleep, but at least you’re not panicking anymore. 

The days begin to blend together without the routine of your pack to keep you steady. Dr. Keller comes to get you at the same time as you expect for your breakfast, and then you spend all day with her, sitting in her office, keeping yourself occupied while you wait for an inevitable phone call. It will either be your pack calling to check on you, or it will be Kate with bad news. 

You’re not sure which is worse. The anticipation of a call from your pack letting you know they’re all alright, or the dread that it will be Kate telling you something happened to them. 

You’re still not sleeping well, the anxiety and the worry you might miss their call meshing with the nightmares that were already plaguing you before they left. You’re exhausted and strung out, the worry beginning to eat you alive. You’re constantly on edge, every little sound close to sending you spiraling. 

Your thoughts have slowly shifted from missing your pack to ruminating about the fact they might not be coming back. It’s a risk you’re well aware of. The kinds of things they do put them at risk, every deployment carries the risk of one, or all of them, dying. One thing goes wrong, one small freak accident and your entire pack could be taken from you. 

You’re not sure you’d survive that. 

Most omegas don’t. 

“Still nothing?” Dr. Keller asks as you sit there, staring at your phone for what must have been an hour at least. 

You shake your head. “Nothing.” 

“Sometimes no news is good news.” She says. “I know you’d prefer to have any news at all, though.” 

“I can’t stop thinking...what if something bad has happened?” You say, fingers trembling from gripping your phone so hard. 

“Kate promised she’d call if something happened, right?”

You nod. “Yeah.” 

“She’s a woman of her word, I can say that much. I’m sure they’re fine. They’re very capable soldiers. They wouldn’t be in Spec Ops if they weren’t, much less on a highly specialized team.” Dr. Keller stands up, moving to the closet. “It’s still hard, not knowing where they are or what they’re doing. I remember when my brother told our parents he was enlisting. Our mother cried for a week straight.” She pulls a pillow and a blanket out of the closet. “I still don’t think she’s completely forgiven him. It’s hard for omegas when someone leaves the pack, even temporarily, especially if you can’t have constant reassurance that they’re alright.” 

Your brows pinch in a frown at her words as she kneels on the floor beside the couch. “Your mom was an omega?” 

She nods. “And dad was a beta. Wound up with two beta children, though I don’t think mom complained much about that. We grew up in a big pack with lots of people around us. I think mom would have been worse off if it had just been her and dad.” She sets the pillow on the couch, gently prying the phone from your fingers. “Come on, lay down.” She directs you. 

You do as she says, laying down on the couch, resting your head on the pillow. She covers you with the blanket, tucking it up around your neck. “Is that why you’re so good at this job?” 

She smiles, setting your phone on the arm of the couch above your head. “Maybe. I think it gave me more empathy for omegas and the struggles you face every day.” She gently squeezes your arm. “They’ll be alright. They’re probably just as worried about you, as you are them. But, you need to get some rest. You don’t have to sleep, just laying with your eyes closed will help.” 

You tilt your head, glancing up at your phone. “What if I fall asleep and it rings?” 

“Then I’ll make sure you get a chance to answer it.” She says, squeezing your arm again. “I promise. Get some rest.” 

You let out a breath, not wanting to risk falling asleep, but you close your eyes anyway. It doesn’t stop the thoughts from coming on, the nightmarish images the anxiety feeds your brain flashing before your eyes. What if they’re lying dead somewhere right now? What if something’s happened to Kate and she can’t tell you? Would you ever find out? Would you ever know? 

Despite the anxiety prickling through your body, the warmth of the blanket begins to lull you into a false sense of security. Perhaps it’s the sheer exhaustion from your lack of sleep over the last couple weeks, paired with the exhaustion from your constant worrying, but you find yourself slipping between sleep and consciousness as you lay there on Dr. Keller’s couch. You don’t mean to, but you can’t help it as you begin to drift off to sleep. 

Screaming. It’s loud, piercing your ears. Something’s holding you, hands clutching at your form desperately. It hurts, nails biting into your skin, fingers gripping too hard, yet you don’t care. 

“You won’t take her from me! I won’t let you!”

You’re crying, sobs wracking your body as you cling just as tightly to the form holding you. 

Hands grab at you, squeezing and pulling, trying to free you from the constricting grip around you, but it won’t let go. You cling to it just as desperately, afraid of what will happen if you let go. 

You know what will happen if you let go. 

“She’s no daughter of mine.” 

The words bite into you, slicing through your skin straight into your very soul, the prickling pain of your own flesh and blood rejecting you making your skin crawl. How could he just let you go like that? How could he turn against you so easily, over something you have no control over? 

Pain erupts across your entire body. Something snaps, your ears ringing from more screams. You’re being pulled away from the safety of the hold around you, your body going cold as the warmth around you disappears. Hands close around you, fingers ripping into you as you're torn from your mother’s hold and into the unknown. 

“Easy, easy.” 

You’re gasping, breathing wheezing as tears choke you. 

“Deep breaths. In and out, nice and slow.” 

Your breath hitches, catching painfully in your chest. 

“You’re alright, you’re safe.” 

You force your eyes open, blinded by tears as something is tucked into your arms. You squeeze the bear against your chest, hiccuping as you fight for control over your emotions. You’re on the couch in Dr. Keller’s office still. You’re not at what was once your home, not stuck in the nightmare you’ve lived over and over. 

Slowly breathing becomes easier, your sobs quieting to sniffles. The tears still spill down your cheeks, dampening the fur of the bear in your arms. 

“You’re alright,” Dr. Keller says, rubbing your back gently. 

You slowly push yourself up to sit, pulling your knees against your chest. You press your palms into your eyes, trying to get the tears to stop. Dr. Keller shifts her position, sitting next to you on the couch. 

“How long have you been having nightmares?” She asks quietly, watching you as you try to calm yourself. 

“Since my heat.” You say, voice rough from crying. You wrap your arms around the bear again, holding onto it tightly. 

“You haven’t said anything about it.” She says gently, shifting slightly so she’s facing you. 

“I didn’t want to.” You say quietly, shame burning through you. She’s not reprimanding you, yet you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. “I shouldn’t be having them, I mean...it’s not even that bad compared to...compared to what the others have gone through. The kinds of nightmares they have.” 

“It might seem that way to you, but trauma is still trauma. It might not be the worst thing someone else has gone through, but it is the worst thing you’ve been through.” 

Her words give you pause. You’ve never quite thought of it that way. The kinds of things your pack does, the things they’ve seen, the things they’ve done, are far worse than anything you’ve experienced. The things you’ve experienced may pale in comparison, but they’re your experiences. No one else’s. 

“If you want to talk about them, that’s what I’m here for.” Dr. Keller says, leaving things open for you to decide what to do. 

You don’t have to tell her. She won’t force you to do it. She won’t force you to do anything, to say anything you don’t want to. It might be nice, though, to let someone know, someone neutral, someone who won’t tell anyone else. It might be nice to finally put into words the things that are eating you, have been eating you. 

You lay back down, curling up into a tight ball on the couch. You hug the bear close to your chest, letting it ground you. “My nightmares, they’re always about the day I left for the institute.” You start, taking a shaky breath. “I haven’t had them in years.” 

“You were sent early after your presentation, right?” She asks. 

“The day after.” You answer. 

“Being sent to an institute can be traumatic when done within the normal time after presentation. I can’t even imagine what being sent that soon was like.” She lets out a breath. “Sometimes when we go through something traumatic, the brain and body hold onto it, because we don’t feel safe enough to process it in the moment. The brain can hold onto it for years, until we finally feel safe enough. Then the brain can start to try and heal from that trauma without us even realizing it.” 

“You think that’s what’s happening?” You ask. 

“It’s possible. Going through your heat successfully, being claimed, building close bonds with your pack, all could aid in helping you finally feel safe enough to process that trauma. Things usually feel worse as the brain works through the trauma, which could be why you’re having nightmares about that event suddenly.” 

“Is there anything that will make them stop?” You ask. 

“There’s some things we can do together that might help the process. I’m more than happy to help you with it, if that’s what you’d like to do. If you decide to, I think it will be a good idea to set up appointments at least twice a week, at least at first.” 

“What are we gonna tell John?” 

She gives you a look. “Well, I’d advise telling him the truth. I think you should tell your pack about your nightmares. They can at least offer you some comfort and understanding. Of course, that’s entirely up to you and what you want to do.” 

You let out a sigh, getting comfortable on the couch again. Dr. Keller adjusts the blanket over you, squeezing your arm gently. 

“Think about it.” She says. “We can talk about it more after they get back and things have settled back to normal again.” 

You’re brushing your teeth when the call comes. You quickly spit into the sink, not even bothering to rinse your mouth before you’re answering, anxiety twisting your stomach into knots. You hadn’t even checked the screen to see who was calling. You’re just anxious to hear from someone after days of silence. 

“Hello?” 

There’s a beat of silence before the voice on the other side responds, the audio distant and slightly garbled, but you hardly notice. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” 

You fight back a sob, your inhale shaky as relief floods through you. “Alpha.” The title slips through your lips before you can even catch it, your body nearly vibrating at hearing John’s voice after so many days. 

“I’m here. We’re all here.” He says, distant voices sounding in the background. 

A smile tugs at your lips, happy tears blurring your eyes as you collapse on your bed. “Missed you.” 

“I know, we’ve missed you too.” 

You move to your bed, flopping down on the mattress in relief. “You alright? Is everyone alright?” 

“We’re alright. Few bumps and bruises, but nothing we haven’t had before. How are you holding up?” 

The urge to spill the truth to him is strong. You’ve been depressed and worried and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that you haven’t panicked about something. You’ve been having horrible nightmares and haven’t been sleeping. There’s an ache in your chest that won’t go away, and you’re afraid it might kill you if you don’t see them soon. 

“I’m alright. Sad cause I miss you a lot.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” There’s a sound on the other end, something you can’t make out and the line buzzes for a second. For a moment you’re worried you were disconnected, but John’s voice cuts through the noise again. “We’re finishing up here soon, and we’ll be home in a couple of days.” 

You can’t help but sigh in relief at his words. They’re alright. They’re all safe, and they’re going to be home soon. You’re going to get to see them soon, touch them again, smell them again. “Hurry back.” You say, your voice shaky with emotion. 

“We’ll try, sweet girl. We have to get going, but we’ll be back before you know it.” 

Saying goodbye doesn't hurt as much as you expect it to. Maybe it’s the relief from hearing their voices, from knowing they’re really alright paired with the knowledge that they’ll be home soon. Two days doesn’t seem so far now that you know that’s all that stands between you and seeing your pack again. 

You roll over in your bed, pressing your face into the pillows. Nothing smells like them anymore. Not their shirts that they scented before they left, not your pillows or stuffed animals. The couch in the rec room, and even John’s bed have started to smell more like you. 

The first thing you’re going to do when they return is get a big whiff of each of them, even if you have to tackle Ghost to do it. You want to refresh their scents all over everything, roll around in them until they’re the only thing you can smell. 

For the first time in days, you manage to sleep that night. It’s not much, but it’s a deep, nightmare-free sleep, aided by the relief from the constant anxiety that has plagued you. 

You update Dr. Keller the next day on the news of your pack’s imminent return. You elect to spend the afternoon in the barracks instead of her office, the building suddenly not seeming quite so empty now that you know they’re coming home soon. You clean up John’s room, making his bed again after you’d made a mess of it trying to sleep. They’re all going to be tired when they return, and you want to help them in any way that you can. You pick up your room as well, even though you know you likely won’t be spending much time in it for a while. You’re going to latch yourself onto them and not let go until the ache in your chest has disappeared. 

You bristle when the knock sounds at your door. You glance up from where you had been sorting the clothes you’d stolen from the guys from your own so you can get them to scent them again. You’re not expecting a knock yet. It’s too early to be Dr. Keller coming to get you for dinner, and she would have announced herself like she has been, if it was her. 

That means someone else is in the barracks. Someone you don’t know. 

Your mind races as you try to think of who it could be. You don’t know many others on base, and certainly no one that would enter the barracks just like that, unless it’s an emergency. Is there an emergency? You’re almost certain if there was an emergency on base, then there would be alarms going off or something. There’d be some sign that something was happening, but it’s quiet outside, or at least, there’s no noises you’re not expecting. 

The knock comes again, louder and sharper. Whoever is on the other side is obviously not going to just go away. You debate calling Dr. Keller, telling her someone is outside your door, getting her to help you on this, but instead you grab your phone, holding it in your hand as you move towards the door. 

You unlock it, holding your hand on the handle in case the person on the other side tries to force their way in. They don’t, so you open it slowly, just enough that you can see out. There’s a soldier outside your door. A woman. You don’t recognize her, but then again you don’t see many women on the base, and you don’t pay much attention to the other soldiers. 

Maybe you need to start paying more attention. 

She’s a beta, you can tell just by looking at her. She’s wearing scent blockers, keeping her scent from projecting into the barracks to erase the fact she was here. 

She says your name, staring at you with hard set eyes. “General Shepherd is waiting for you.” 

It takes you a moment to process what it is she’s saying. You’ve never met any of the higher ups on base. The person with the most authority you’ve met is John, but you know he’s only a Captain. There’s others above him, but you weren’t any concern of theirs, so you have never bothered to meet them. Even in your time with the CIA, the person with the most authority that you met seemed to be Kate. You hadn’t even been given names of anyone higher up than her. 

Apparently something’s changed. 

Something in the back of your mind begins to tingle. Something isn’t right about this. You should have called Dr. Keller, or even Kate. You shouldn’t have opened the door so recklessly. 

“But, I’m not supposed to-” You begin, unsure of what to do now. 

“It’s a direct order from your superior.” The woman cuts you off, her tone sharp and impatient.

You’re not a soldier. The only superior you have is John and he’s certainly not behind this. 

You wouldn’t dare say that out loud. Not right now. 

“Okay, okay.” You say, stepping back slightly from the door. “Let me just get some shoes on.” 

You close the door, staring down at your phone. You debate calling Dr. Keller or even just sending a text, but you don’t put it past the woman outside to barge in if you don’t hurry. You can feel the panic rising, the thought of someone invading your space so carelessly making the back of your neck tingle. So instead you slip on a pair of shoes, shoes you know you can run in, before you open the door again. 

She’s still standing in the hallway, stiffly at attention. Her gaze pierces into you, making your skin crawl. You close your door behind you, slipping your phone into your pocket. She doesn't say anything as she turns on her heel, walking down the hallway towards the door. You follow behind her, having to walk quickly to keep up with her. You’re reminded of your early days on the base when you would be escorted around by Ghost. 

You’d take those times back over this right now. 

Your palms start to sweat as you leave the barracks, dread starting to fill your stomach as you realize how much of a mistake you’ve made, leaving with this stranger. She could be taking you anywhere to see anyone. You’re not even sure General Shepherd is a real person. 

The thought of being led blindly into a room of alphas like a lamb being led into a den of hungry wolves nearly makes you panic, your steps faltering just slightly as you debate running. You could make it to the medical center quickly from here if you sprint the entire way. Would she chase you if you took off running? Would you get in trouble? Would the guys get in trouble if you did? 

You don’t want anyone to get in trouble. 

Especially not with this being the first time you’ve been on your own. They’ve put a lot of trust in both you and Dr. Keller in their absence. If you get into trouble while they’re gone, that might change things. You could ruin everything you’ve built by misbehaving. 

The woman leads you to a building you haven’t been in before, leading you down a clinical-looking hallway to a door. She pauses in front of it, turning to face you. You stare at her, still on edge. What if this is a test? What if they’re testing you to see if you’d just blindly leave with a stranger while they’re not there to protect you. 

You’ve made a big mistake. 

The woman holds out her hand, and you stare down at it dumbly. “Your phone.” 

You continue to stare at her hand for a moment, trying to swallow the nervous panic rising within you. You don’t have much of a choice now but to obey. Your hands are shaking as you pass your phone over, the woman pocketing it before she opens the door. 

It’s bright inside, the LED bulbs burning your eyes. You’re uncomfortable and uneasy, a dangerous mix for an omega, but the person inside doesn’t seem to care. He stands from his seat, towering over you. He screams alpha before his scent even hits you. You’re thrown back into the memories of your father, the way he carried himself, the way he stood. Back straight like a rod, hands clasped behind his back, face pressed into a stern line. 

He’s in uniform, decorated with more patches and pins than you could put a name to. Army, you think, judging by the color of his jacket. It looks like General Shepherd is a real person after all. 

You try not to flinch as the door clicks closed behind you, sealing you in this room with an unknown alpha. Though it’s only one, you still feel like the helpless lamb standing before a hungry wolf. 

No one will hear you scream. No one will care. 

“My name is General Shepherd.” He says, his voice gruff and laced with authority. “I am the acting commander of Task Force 141.” 

You’re not sure if you should say anything, or even bother introducing yourself. He probably already knows you well, even though you’ve never met him before in your life. 

“I was one of the driving forces behind the omega initiative, and I decided the 141 should be one of the first to participate. I also signed the approval for you to be assigned as their omega, did you know that?” 

You shake your head. “N-No sir, the CIA didn’t give me any names.” 

“Good.” His lips twitch in what you assume was supposed to be a smile. It doesn’t ease your nerves any. “They weren’t supposed to. I’m sure you’ve learned that confidentiality is everything in this line of work.” 

“Yes, sir.” You try not to flinch under his gaze, piercing and probing. The back of your neck is tingling, every single instinct in your body screaming at you to run, to escape, to get somewhere safe. 

“I came here today to ensure your pack was doing as they were instructed. I’m impressed with what I’ve seen so far. You’re getting along well with them?” 

You nod again. “Yes, sir. There were some...bumps along the way, but we all get along fine now.” 

“Good.” He closes the file on the table, taking a step closer to you. You fight the urge to take a step back, not wanting him to invade your space while you’re so vulnerable. “The success of this program is imperative to the future of the military and its functionality. You’re doing important work here with the Task Force.” His hand lifts, slowly pulling the collar of your shirt to the side so he can see your mating mark. 

You fight the urge to lift your hands and wrap them around the back of your neck, the instinctual urge to protect yourself nearly winning out as he stares at your mark. Your heart is pounding in your chest, the fear-driven adrenaline making your fingers tremble. Half a second and he could scruff you, half a second and he could overpower you. 

No one would know. No one would care.  

“I’m satisfied with what I’m seeing so far. Of course, the true measure of success will be their efficiency in their current task.” He steps back away from you, moving back to the table. “How have you been adjusting to them being gone?” 

“It’s been difficult,” You say, breathing for a second to collect yourself. “But I know separation can be a rough adjustment at first.” 

His lips twitch again in a twisted smile. “You’re a smart girl. That’s why I chose you for this position. You’re doing good work. Your efforts will change the course of military history, hopefully for the better.” 

Something about his words don’t sit right with you. 

You’re trembling as you exit the room, led out by the woman that had brought you to the building. Your breaths are heavy as you try to keep a grip on the anxiety threatening to overtake you. Your hand is trembling uncontrollably as she give you your phone back, your knuckles going white as you clutch it to your chest. You’re sweating, the cool air chilling your skin as you step outside. 

You barely remember the walk back to the barracks, numbly following the woman as she leads you back to your safe space. It doesn't feel so safe anymore, now that she’s breached it. She entered without permission, breaking that trust that’s so sacred to packs. 

She doesn't even seem bothered by it. 

She pauses outside the door to the barracks, staring down at you. You fight the urge to race inside and lock yourself in the safety of your room before she can change her mind and enter again, or take you somewhere worse. You stand your ground, meeting her gaze. 

“Thank you for your cooperation.” She says, as monotone as she had been the first time she spoke to you. 

You finally realize what it was that made her seem so off to you as you think over her words. 

She’s American. 

“Thank you for escorting me.” You say politely, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Have a safe trip home.” 

You quickly enter the barracks, speed walking down the hall towards your room. You want to burrow under your covers and hide until the guys return and you can feel safe again. You pause in front of your door, staring down at the handle. The back of your neck is prickling again, anxiety burning hot in your veins. Your hands have begun shaking again, clinging to the phone still pressed against your chest. You fight the urge to hyperventilate as you stare at your door, half of your brain telling you to run and the other half stuck, staring in shock and disbelief. 

Your door is ajar. Open just a crack, just enough to be noticeable by looking at it. 

You always close your door. You always ensure it’s shut every time you leave the barracks, even when the guys are home. You remember shutting it before you followed the woman out of the barracks. You remember distinctly listening to the click of the handle as you pulled it shut behind you in the quiet of the barracks. 

You stare at the gap, the line of the frame visible. It’s open. Your door is open. 

Someone was inside your room. 

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse #x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #tf 141 x reader #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader

[honeypiehotchner]

kiss her, you fool (Hotch x fem!Reader) -- one shot

Anyway I'm back in the fucking building again!!!! Listened to "Kiss Her You Fool" by Kids That Fly and had this one shot written in like an hour. The love for Aaron Hotchner never dies apparently

Summary: You're in the middle of spring cleaning when Aaron calls and says he forgot something at your place (he didn't).

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff! I just wanted to write some romance

It’s the middle of the day and you’re in the middle of a cleaning frenzy when your phone rings for what looks like the third time. It’s Aaron.

“Hey! Sorry,” you laugh, grabbing the TV remote to pause your music, phone pressed to your ear with your shoulder. “I’m spring cleaning and clearly way too far in the zone. What’s up?”

“That’s okay,” you can hear him smiling as you readjust your phone in your hand. “Would it be alright if I stopped by? I think I left something there last night.”

You furrowed your brows, spinning around the living room. You definitely would’ve noticed if he left something here last night. You’ve practically turned your entire apartment upside down to clean it.

“Are you sure?” you ask, moving to lift the couch cushions for a third time. “What was it?”

“I’m not sure,” he says, which totally isn’t suspicious at all. “Can I just come look?”

“I mean,” you let out an awkward laugh. “I guess you can. I’ve been cleaning since this morning, though, so I think I would’ve spotted it, but—”

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” he says. “If that’s okay?”

You sigh, selfishly glad you’re getting to see him again, two days in a row. It feels like you’ve hit the jackpot. “Yeah, of course it’s okay.”

“Great, see you in a few.”

“See you,” you bite back your grin, ending the call. You turn the music back on, a little lower so you’ll hear him when he knocks.

You have no earthly idea what he could’ve forgotten. He had his phone and jacket in hand when he left. He never took his wallet or keys out of his jacket pockets, so they must’ve stayed there. Unless either of them fell out, but again, you feel like you would’ve noticed.

Whatever it is, he’ll either find it or realize it isn’t here. Regardless, you’re getting to see him again, so you’ll take it.

With his job, the days that you do see Aaron are typically one long day spent together here and there. Yesterday was an exception, a rare dinner mid-work week because he happened to be done at the office early and you were free, so obviously the opportunity was taken advantage of. It’s only been a few weeks of seeing one another, so you both take any chance you can get. 

Despite this, though, things have moved…slow. Slower than you expected because, to be frank, every guy you’ve been with has been quick and to the point. Not that you always minded that. Sometimes you wanted the same thing — quick, hot, heavy. But those days have since left you, and you went through a period of seeing no one, aside from one guy who left as soon as you said you were interested in moving slowly. 

It’s nothing against Aaron, but when he first introduced himself at your local coffee shop, you kind of assumed he’d be the same. It’s hard not to assume when everyone acted that way, and when the men who frequent said coffee shop don’t exactly have the best track record for being polite and respectful.

Aaron, though, took weeks to ask for your number, let alone to join your table one morning to sip his coffee — and even then, you offered him the seat; he didn’t invite himself. That alone was enough for you to agree to give him your number, and then to an official first date.

He kissed your cheek after the first date, your forehead after the second, and kept to those areas alone. You found yourself wondering if something was wrong with you somehow, but he wasn’t disinterested. Quite the opposite, actually, from how he held your hand and kept his arms around you, how he made sure you were safely inside your apartment before heading off, how he still texted when he arrived home to ask you if you were still safely inside.

Or when he had to cancel a date last minute, and sent flowers to your apartment in lieu of his presence. He apologized over the phone, but the flowers had an apology note attached too. And another apology when he arrived at your door four days later, fresh off the plane, with a real explanation of his job and why he didn’t have time to explain it all to you before he left.

Your friends think it’s a little crazy, that it’s been almost a month of dating and there hasn’t been a single kiss — “On the cheek doesn’t count!” they argue. You think it does. If anything, you’re just happy there’s no pressure.

The underlying anxiety is there, sure, of what if it never happens? But you can’t bring yourself to entertain the thought. Mainly because you want to kiss him so bad, you’re practically going to leap onto him one of these days.

You’re mid-dance when a knock sounds on your door and you jump, having forgotten Aaron said he would be here soon. You turn the music down as you head for the door, unlocking it to let him in.

He stands there in his usual dark suit, sans tie this time so the top buttons are undone, bouquet of flowers in hand and dumb smile on his face.

“What are these for?” you ask when he hands them to you. 

He steps inside and shuts the door, pausing to press a kiss to your forehead. “Because I wanted to.”

You give him a look, cheeks feeling warm. “If you keep doing this ‘because you want to,’ I’m gonna need to open a flower truck,” you joke, gesturing to the other vase of flowers sitting in your window. And there’s another in the bathroom. And one in your bedroom. 

“Just let me know what kind of truck you want,” he teases.

You press the flowers to your nose to hide your smile. “Oh, what did you forget? You’re welcome to look for it, but—”

He lets out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I might have lied.”

“I knew you were, you idiot,” you swat playfully at his arm. You turn to head into the kitchen in search of another vase. “I got off the phone and paced around like what did he possibly leave here? I figured maybe your wallet or something, but I definitely would’ve found it earlier. You should’ve seen the living room this morning — I had the couch on its side and the coffee table in the middle of the hallway—”

You’re in the middle of rambling, digging around under the sink for a vase, when Aaron pulls you up by your hand, spinning you to face him.

“—it was a disaster trying to vacuum. Remind me never to do that unless you’re over here to lift all of it. I think I nearly—”

He’s smiling at you, and you don’t have a single moment to spare to register that he’s leaning in before his lips are on yours. 

You sigh into the kiss, pleasantly surprised to be interrupted in this way, and glad your hands are free so you can hold onto him. Maybe this is why it’s good he hadn’t kissed you yet — one second of it and you’re ready to collapse under the sweet weight of it all. His arms circle your waist to lift you up, and your arms circle his neck, keeping him close. As close as you’ve really wanted him.

When you finally break for air, it’s only to press your foreheads against one another’s, not wanting to move too far.

“Well,” you laugh.

“Technically,” he says, pausing to peck your nose, “that’s what I forgot last night.”

You roll your eyes. “You are so stupid.”

“Mm, just because it makes you smile,” he says, kissing your lips again, and again. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Ideally,” you pause, letting him kiss you again, “ordering dinner in and making out with my boyfriend until the sun rises. You?”

“You know, I was thinking about taking someone special out to dinner,” he pauses, pulling you closer again, “and then kissing her until she tells me to stop.”

“That could be forever, for all you know.”

“That’s fine with me.”

You grin and he kisses you again, pausing to say, “Sorry, I can’t help myself—”

“Trust me,” you move even closer, your eyelashes practically touching his cheeks when you blink, “you don’t need to apologize.”

He responds by kissing you some more, and more, until he’s lifting you into his arms and placing you on the kitchen counter. 

“Aaron!” you squeal, nearly crushing the bouquet. “Let me move the flowers at least!”

“I’ll buy you another,” he says, just a whisper away from kissing you again. 

“You know—” You have to pause in between words as he presses his lips to yours. “—I still have—cleaning—Aaron,” you giggle. “I need to put my apartment back together.”

“Do you?” he asks, relenting only slightly, his fingertips pressing into your lower back, keeping you against him. “Do you need help?”

“I do actually,” you chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. “The couch isn’t back where it was.”

He smirked. “I noticed.”

You tug on his hair slightly to tease him for that jab, only it lights a new spark behind his eyes. Your cheeks grow even warmer. “No, seriously,” you say. “It’ll stress me out if it’s not back in its spot, but then…”

He nods, kissing your lips. “Then we’ll get ready for dinner.”

“And then come back here for a movie?”

“We’ll see how much of the movie we actually pay attention to,” he smirks, eyes traveling all over your face. 

The urge to let him ravish you right now against the kitchen counter is so strong it nearly makes you lightheaded. But soon Aaron is helping you down, pressing another kiss to your forehead. 

“Did you get to vacuum under the couch all the way?”

“…kind of.”

“Come on,” he chuckles, pulling on your hand, leading you back into the living room. “Call me next time?”

“If I get kissed like that during spring cleaning then I’m doing it every day,” you reply, mostly joking. Kind of. “Fuck I forgot the vase for the flowers—”

Aaron kisses you to interrupt you once again. “One thing at a time,” he says.

The kissing doesn’t stop, and you never do get to vacuum under the couch. It can wait.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch fluff #i clearly just needed some romance in my life idk #kiss her you fool #big fan of hotch buying you flowers constantly bc he simply wants to #bigger fan of him not being able to help himself around you #back in the fucking BUILDING AGAIN #criminal minds #fluff

[bigfatbimbo]

okay omg this is so dumb ong but basically, alastor said like vox is powerless without the other vees, right? and so picture like maybe something happens and the vees like fall apart and that leaves vox totally powerless. i just find the idea of a loser ass gideon graves type vox crashing on your couch because his entire empire fell apart very entertaining.

basically, headcanons? smut, fluff, angst, idc this is just such a silly episode type plot

i know i’m not alone, your a loser, just like me

a/n — I have such a love for oddly specific requests like this. In fact, I just love oddly specific x reader au’s.

summary — After the fall of the Vees, along Vox’s empire, and power, he’s left totally stranded in the reader apartment as their more or less housewife, and forced to live the life of, for lack of a better word, a total loser.

extra tags — headcanons, established relationships, mentions of smut, mentions of angst, mostly just fluff, like you could skip over the smut and angst if you want and barley loose anything

Vox has never had a lot of free time. In death, his schedule was just as packed as it was during life. From meetings, to live shows, to arguments with Alastor, to any so-called ‘downtime’ with the Vees, he’s never not been busy. 

But the Vees weren’t here anymore, and neither was his empire. That meant, no arguments to mediate and no business offers to consider. Practically, he had no work to do. 

And the part that really bothered him, was that you did. Him being out of a job, meant that you were the main breadwinner of the household. In simple terms, Vox was powerless. And the downgrade from his studio standing high above the rest of Hells scum, to your one bedroom apartment was certainly less than charming. 

He had nothing to do all day, but sit and wait for you. That doesn’t sound that bad for any normal person, but Vox wasn’t normal. And neither was the way he was dealing with the sudden fall of his empire. 

The first week came and went, rocky to say the least. His time was spent either in bed, or lounging by the bathtub, reluctantly petting his shark, Vark. After a while, the comfort of the creature evaporated as quickly as it set in. Vox’s brows would furrow with irrational. Vark, the only remaining piece of wreckage, reminding him of his once powerful kingdom. 

But Vark didn’t know Vox had lost anything. Infuriated by this thought, each visit to the bathtub that week led to Vox promptly storming out of the room. 

The second week hadn’t been all that better. Feeling the need to compensate for the absence of his power, he acted specifically entitled. Not to mention, coming onto you every five seconds, and trying his hardest to act domineering. 

However, this desperate act crumbled as soon as you got fed up, “Seriously Vox, could you keep it in your fucking pants? Acting powerful doesn’t bring back your power, douchebag.” 

The statement should have prompted an argument, one that would have happened if it hadn’t been for Vox’s fragile state of living, but he simply shut his mouth.

Which brings us to the third week. The initial sadness and desperation has worn off, since it has been almost a month. It’s not that he doesn’t crave that power back anymore, but there is a subtle understanding that it’s not coming back anytime soon. 

Instead, he focuses on distracting himself through more mundane aspects of life. 

For lack of his surveillance cameras, he’d resort to following you around with a small drone for part of the day, examining your tasks. Watching you work he’d sigh, you were so productive.

However the drone would only last so long, since it wasn’t the most well-made contraption. At first, he’d really hate the feeling of being all alone. It made him feel like your housewife, or something. Well, he thought, in a sense, he was. 

Reluctantly, and given his time period, he’d do what he knows about the whole concept of being the stay-at-home partner. Although, given he’s never played that role, he’s terrible at it.

You’d come home and his attempt to clean the house would lead to slippery soap suds on the ground, acting like breadcrumbs leading to the task that Vox accidentally distracted himself with.

In most cases, this would be a chalk board where he would uselessly try to plot out his rise to power, once again. And he’d be laughing maniacally while explaining it to you, but he’s very proud of all of his [unrealistic] plans so you’d just have to nod and smile. His ego has taken enough hits as is, he doesn’t need your disapproval too.

However, sometimes, he would really try to cook something for you when you arrive home. This… doesn’t work out well, to say the least.

As soon as you walk through the door, you’re greeted with smoke, and angry shouting. Not at you, however. When your surroundings become less fuzzy, you see clearly Vox screaming profanities at the oven.

“Useless piece of shit,” he’d shout, kicking the oven, and then recoiling back from the pain in his toe. Then once again getting angry and throwing a spatula at the wall closest to you.

“Y/n!” He’d observe, putting on his, now rusty, customer service voice, “I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.” 

“Yeah, looks like you needed—“ You cough, swatting away the smoke from the kitchen and going to open a window “—more time to finish up.”

Walking over to him, he’d slouch over and cross his arms, clearly not happy with his failure of an attempt to cook for you. With his new foreign feeling of uselessness, he’d be very desperate for any form of success.

You’d put your hands on either side of his shoulders and rub comfortingly, “What were you trying to cook?” 

And that starts the new routine. Vox tries to cook for you, fails, and you come home and help him finish the job.

He doesn’t like being bossed around, even in the kitchen, but with the sudden withdrawal from the spotlight, he’s constantly craving your attention to an obsessive amount, which mostly makes up for his control-freak nature.

With this, however, that means that every second you’re off work and NOT at home with him, he throws a huge hissy fit. 

Probably leading to a big argument where, after a short time of pouting, Vox realizes that he probably doesn’t want to loose the only person he has left. So he smooth talks his way back, before you even consider kicking him out.

But every morning before work it’s a struggle too, “Vox, get off of me, I have to go to work.” 

“Call off, then.” “No?” “Oh, so you don’t fucking love me enough.” “Do you not love this roof over your head? I’m going to work.” “…pick up some gatorade on your way home.” 

Along with being desperate for attention, as could be assumed he’s intensely and apologetically clingy. Well, unapologetic in the sense that he doesn’t change he’s behavior after you call him out on it. He does get very defensive when you tease him.

Like even when it’s undeniable. He’d have his head laying in your lap, lazily playing with your fingers while he talks about whatever his ‘evil plan to rise to power’ of the week is. And you tell him you needed to go to the bathroom and he would move and just tell you to “Wait until i’m finished talking.”

Sex wise, he would try really, irritatingly hard to be super dominant to compensate for his loss of power in society. But on the flip side, because of his vulnerable state, he’d probably naturally find himself being more easily submissive in bed. 

But with that, I think he’d have less of a tolerance for overly degrading words. Because usually, I would definitely say he has a thing for degrading and humiliation, but his ego was [very high but] fragile before, and in the light of recent events, it’s completely fucking shattered.

It’s really just embarrassment at the end of the day. His self entitlement isn’t gone, it’s just been replaced by a “aw boohoo, i’m so much better than this :(“ mindset.

So he needs praise more than anything. In fact, a lot of what he does, or rather tries to do, around the house is to get your approval. To not fail at something, and it’s been a while. 

Now, smut aside, like I said, there’d be a lot more vulnerability on Vox’s part. Because, after all, he’d probably be in the worst headspace of his entire existence.

It’s safe to assume, being a white man in the fifties, that he didn’t have it rough in life. And up until the fall of the Vees, dying was one of the best things that ever happened to him. 

For the first time, in all of the years he’s lived and died, he isn’t overtly privileged, and it’s driving him crazy. His immense power has been replaced by a terrible craving for success. His fear of failure and rejection have been heightened, and he’s almost as obsessed with getting his empire back, as he is dependent on you. 

But with no real way to achieve his goal, and barely any drive, he is left being, for lack of a better word, a washed up loser. A hazbin, if you would!

But he does miss the Vees. In fact, he misses them a lot. Occasionally you have to comfort him at night when he’s thinking of them, or when he sees something that reminds him of the two of them. 

I also think he’d go through days where he’d either be super prone to arguments and super touchy, or you see a noticeable change in this behavior because he just doesn’t care as much anymore.

Silly Vox though, which you’d see a lot more of now that he isn’t a CEO, would be very present.

You’d get home from work and he’d be super siked because he picked out a movie to watch with you. (Goodfellas, American Psycho, or Joker, it is never not one of these movies.) 

But he has a lot of time when your away, and that’s kinda dangerous for a guy like him, especially in a closed space since he’s too ashamed to show his face to the outside world.

You’d walk through the door and he’d show you some new tech he swears will allow you both to “rise through the ranks of hell!” But you’d take one look and realize, “Vox did you take apart our microwave to make that??” 

Most days, he’d go through weird cycles of trying to clean the house and cook, basically doing what he knows he’s ’obligated’ to do as your sitcom housewife, but then other days, literally trashing the place.

You’d come home find glass shattered all across the, almost flooded, floor. Then you’d look up to find Vox lowering Vark into a clearly homemade tank.

He’d reassure you and be like, “No, now we have our tub back! All thanks to me and my genius brain, your welcome—“

“Where’d you get the glass, Vox,” you’d sigh, massaging your forehead because of the new, growing headache. Not to your surprise, but definitely your disappointment, the response would be, “…The bedroom windows.”

Also, this is off topic but he’d have one of those “kiss me, i’m irish” aprons. 

I think that Vox at rock bottom has such a fun ‘beginning of season character arc’ vibe to me. Like watch as he goes from the world’s worst housewife, to semi-competent over the span of a few months.

It reminds me of peridots (steven universe reference) redemption arc, in a sense of vibes alone. If we’re talking from a realistic in-show perspective, end of the season, the redemption arc would not be successful IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Like he would be fully adjusted, and honestly happy with his life. Slow dancing with you each night, honestly getting the hang of cooking, and a lot less complaining. But then he would get an opportunity to once again rise the ranks of hell. And a good opportunity too, like it would place him very relatively high up.

And well… society can take the villain out of the capitalist, but never the capitalist out of the villain.

a/n — actually society, especially in hell, does not have the power to take the villain out of the capitalist, but I digress. Don’t get bimbo started on capitalism as a social concept because it is literally the most interesting thing in the world to me lowkey.

Anyways, I love housewife!Vox so much, and I will be SO HAPPY to do more with this au. He’s the worlds shittiest stay-at-home partner and I love him.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #inbox open #vox x you #vox x y/n #vox x reader fluff #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel fluff

[murdockparker]

Expectations

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: While the honeymoon may be well and over, the new Mrs. Bridgerton has yet to make her presence in the ton since the wedding. Anxious as ever, she listens to her husband and gives it a go.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, reader is not pregnant, reader does not wish to be a mother, illusions to sex but no smut, drinking and drunkenness, fluffy fluff

A/N: Given the setting and time period, not wanting children is rather taboo, I feel. But not everyone wishes to be a mom and that's okay! I hope I did Benedict (and reader!!) justice!

__

On a far too quiet night in London, candles were beginning to grow short, along with the patience of a newly made missus.

“Must I go tomorrow?” (Y/N) sighed, turning to face her husband in earnest, placing her hairbrush on the vanity. 

“And possibly insult Lady Danbury again this season?” Benedict scoffed, looking up from his sketchbook. He had been making good on his earlier promise of the eve, giving his wife a worthwhile portrait. He had already made countless, of course, but this one was to be the best yet. “Darling you cannot keep avoiding her forever."

“Here I thought that was a Bridgerton specialty,” (Y/N) hummed, turning back to her mirror, keen to note Benedict’s crooked smirk in the reflection. “But if you insist that I cut our honeymoon short—”

“You know better than I that our honeymoon is well and over,” Benedict said, suddenly at his wife’s side, hands growing restless on her shoulders. “As much as it pains me to admit, and it does, truly, the rest of the ton is far too eager to make the newest Mrs. Bridgertons acquaintance.”

Kisses were peppered down her neck, just below her ear, warm and sticky enough to halt her thinking. “Life was much easier in the country,” she reminisced fondly. The lady was unsure if the fact her husband was making dutiful work on her skin was clouding her judgment, but her mind yearned for the weeks they had spent in bed, alone and carefree. “No need for this… fodder.”

“Ah to be a woman in the season,” Benedict jested, brushing her hair aside. “But I do think it’s a right idea to go to the soiree. If it makes you feel better, I do believe the duchess is planning to attend.”

(Y/N) groaned, pushing Benedict away. “Just as you begin to seduce your wife you find it fair to mention your younger sister?” 

He could only laugh. “I was unaware I was seducing my wife, I merely thought I was helping with her hair.”

“And the fine work on my neck was helpful... how?”

His fingers brushed through her hair again, slowly, deliberately. “Well, considering I was partially to blame for it’s unruliness, I figured I could only offer my services. I fear it came across as unhelpful.”

She fought back a grin. “I will go to Lady Danbury’s soiree,” (Y/N) said, looking Benedict in the eyes through the mirror. “But only if you promise to assist with the rest of my… hair.”

“What kind of a husband would I be if I refused?”

—

The carriage ride was as uneventful as she could have imagined. Not only did she loathe the rocking of the cab, but to not have Benedict’s company across from her—or under her—made the entire ordeal less appealing. Still, she persisted through the boredom and arrived to Danbury House, fashionably on time. 

“Mrs. Bridgerton,” Lady Danbury greeted, flicking her cane towards the not-so-new bride. “How lovely you managed to pry yourself from your cottage in the country and rejoin proper society.”

“Lady Danbury,” (Y/N) bowed, smiling as politely as she could. “You think little of me, I would never dare to miss one of your illustrious eves. My mother always spoke fondly of them—as truthful as she decided to be with me, that is.”

“A shame your mother isn’t joining us, those nasty headaches of hers will surely do her in.”

“Father sent for a tea from France,” (Y/N) recalled from her last correspondence with her parents. “I believe it was a recommendation from you, if I am not mistaken?”

“Your parents would do well from listening to me from time to time, I should hope you take the same advice,” Lady Danbury smiled, looking directly at (Y/N), gaze narrowing. “Do enjoy yourself tonight, dear. One tends to forget oneself whilst in a marriage.”

A footman ushered her into the great hall, handfuls of married women of the ton flocked to the walls, drinks already in hand. A few familiar faces flitted her memory as she walked past. Lady Green and Mrs. Harrison, both far too eager to set her up with their respective sons in the last season, smiled kindly as she nodded towards them. Dowager Countess Fairbanks was eagerly replacing her empty glass with another, the loss of Earl Fairbanks was still fresh in the public eye, it seemed. Then, there was Lady Kent, smoking away in the corner, grateful no men were around to stop such nonsense.

“Mrs. Bridgerton! I did not expect to see you here!”

(Y/N) turned to the cheery voice, belonging only to the Duchess Hastings herself.

“Your Grace,” (Y/N) smirked, addressing her sister-in-law properly.

“Daphne,” the duchess corrected, as she had many a time during (Y/N)’s courtship with Benedict. “I must say, I hardly think anyone expected your presence tonight. Surely my brother couldn’t have found it in himself to allow you to escape for the evening easily.”

“I shall spare you the sordid details of my trickery,” (Y/N) said with a murmur, her voice laced with a secret. “Considering they involve your brother and whatever little clothing he possessed.”

“Oh please,” Daphne waved. “You are married, I hardly think it is much to guess you and Benedict have been in such a state thus far.”

“If I may be so honest,” (Y/N) giggled, accepting a flute of a bubbly drink from a server, “he was the one who begged me to attend this evening. I was more of the mind to stay in and continue to enjoy our library here in London.”

“I did not know Benedict’s bachelor lodgings possessed a library.”

“They did not, which is why we purchased a new estate not too far from your Mama’s,” (Y/N) said with a smile. “‘Bachelor no more’, I believe were his exact words when he showed me the deed. It’s quite a lovely place. If I did not prefer the country so much I think I would like to stay here year-round.”

“I expect an invitation for tea sometime, then,” Daphne cooed, clearly overjoyed at her new sister’s happiness. “I assume there’s an adequate number of rooms?”

“Enough for a proper studio for Benedict’s leisure, a modest library for myself, an enchanting dining room and…” Her glass raised to her lips nervously. “I believe that to be all.”

“No nursery, then?”

“You Bridgertons and baby-rearing,” (Y/N) said, nearly sputtering her drink. “I say, you’re already on baby three, is that not correct?”

Daphne nearly radiated with joy at the mere mention of her children—a doting mother in every regard. ���Oh yes, number three will be joining us in due time,” her hand grazing over her apparent bump. “But I believe you neglected to answer my question.”

“I think I am in need of far more drink to even entertain the question, dear sister,” (Y/N) downed the rest of her drink, hoping the dim lighting did an adequate job hiding her growing flush. 

“Very well,” Daphne conceded, still holding her small bump as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “I believe Kate has begun in the game room if you wish to join me in finding her?”

“Spending my night with my darling new sisters? Without my husband or your brothers to muck up our conversations and vex us? I must say, that might be your best idea yet, Your Grace. 

The duchess merely laughed as she led present company into the ballroom—now outfitted with many tables to accommodate the games of the night’s festivities. (Y/N)’s eyes went wide, clearly taken aback by the sheer sight of it all. Wives and widows alike, smoking and drinking over every inch of the transformed ballroom.

“I can’t imagine how you’ve managed to come to many of these things,” she shuddered in awe, leaning closer to Daphne.

“I haven’t,” Daphne said truthfully. “I’m usually back at Clyvedon with my family, it just so happens I’m in town on other business this go around to not ignore Lady Danbury.”

While it was difficult to get the Bridgertons all under one roof—with each new marriage and child that task became even more daunting—the brood did get together recently to celebrate the christening of both Edmund and Belinda. Anthony’s first and Daphne’s second. It wasn’t much of a shock that Daphne shared the news of a third Basset at the christening, either.

“Regardless,” (Y/N) took her place at a game table, sitting beside the duchess. “I’d much appreciate the evening to move swiftly, lest I spend more time away from home than I need.”

“Eager to get back in the bedroom with Benedict?”

The new Viscountess Bridgerton, Kate, spoke up behind the ladies as she took it upon herself to be seated next to her sisters.

“I was thinking more along the lines of his study,” (Y/N) hummed, feeling herself grow warm with honesty. “Perhaps our library? We do have a handful of new rooms to enjoy and christen, I think.”

“I recall making a similar promise to Anthony after our honeymoon,” Kate reminisced, smiling wickedly. “Makes me miss such a time in my marriage.”

“Miss a time?” (Y/N) laughed, accepting a drink from a roaming server. “You and Anthony only have been wed a bit over a year. Surely the flame has not died out?”

“No, no, not died out,” Kate quickly corrected. “It’s just, now with Edmund in our care, our flame has dimmed a bit—exhaustion keeps us both at bay to get at it like we once did.”

“Simon and I had a similar take after Amelia and Belinda,” Daphne chimed in. 

“Yet here you are, awaiting your third child in three years,” Kate barked with laughter.

“As you said, sister,” Daphne sipped her lemonade, “it merely dimmed.”

If her face had blanched, the dim lighting of the game room had the entire part of disguising her discomfort at the idea—the mere idea that her want for Benedict could possibly wane. 

“Dimmed,” (Y/N) repeated. 

“Say, it’s been a few months since your wedding,” Kate noted, “do you and Benedict have plans for children soon? I expect with your new house a nursery is just begging to be filled.”

A polite laugh escaped her lips, humor long forgotten. “We haven’t much discussed the matter of children.”

“Oh, come off it!” Kate admonished. “Surely you and your husband want to aid in the Bridgerton grandchildren numbers? I recall Anthony mentioning an old wager between them on who would have the most children."

“A wager—you’re not serious?” 

“Oh, that was merely a jest between brothers, I’m sure,” Daphne said, placing her steady hand on (Y/N)’s. Even in the candlelight, she could tell her newest sister-in-law was having no part in this conversation. “And knowing my brothers, it cannot be held to any regard.”

“Anthony seemed serious enough about it when I was carrying Edmund,” Kate shrugged. “No matter! We are here to play cards, yes?”

It was hard to pay attention to the game at hand—literally. With doubt and endless thoughts swimming through the new Mrs Bridgerton’s head, her glass never emptied and her mind never ceased. She won a sizable amount of money somehow—Daphne mumbled something along the lines of ‘rotten cards’ as she pushed the notes and coins to (Y/N)’s pot. 

“You’re sure you do not wish to spend the night here?” Lady Danbury offered much later in the evening, just as nearly every guest had left. Only the Bridgerton ladies remained. “I can have a guest room made up in a blink.”

“Ben will be anxious for my arrival,” (Y/N) slurred, trying to remain upright. “I shan’t keep him waiting.”

“I thought we intercepted enough of her drinks,” Daphne whispered, words only meant for Kate.

“She must have snuck a few on her way to the chamberpot,” the viscountess realized, albeit a bit too late. 

“I can handle my drinks just fine,” (Y/N) said, trying to cross her arms. It only took her two attempts. “Honestly, I just want to get home to my husband, thank you.”

“I will ride with her to her estate,” Daphne offered, already getting in (Y/N)’s carriage. “My carriage will follow close behind and I will retreat as soon as I see her enter her home safely.”

“What a good sister you are,” (Y/N) cooed, hand cupping Daphne’s face lovingly. “I wish I had a sister like you.”

“If you remember anything, let it be this, please just write to me in the morning,” Kate sighed, giving up hope on the cause. “Lest you want an angry visit from me tomorrow after you break your fast.”

“Get home safe,” (Y/N) listed, “write to Kate, do not make her angry. I think I got it.”

“Perhaps we should pin a note to her dress?” Lady Danbury laughed.

“I shall tell one of the maids to remind her,” Daphne said. “So she has no excuse.”

“You lot are being awfully nice to me,” (Y/N) said, stepping up into the carriage. The footmen were doing most of the work. “Nicer than I deserve right about now.”

“You’re family,” Kate said simply. “Besides, I reckon we have a part to play on just how much you’ve drank…”

“Quite,” Daphne nodded. (Y/N) began to look rather green. “Lady Danbury, I don’t suppose you have a pot or vase you don’t care much about?”

Wordlessly, a butler came running, holding a rather ornate bowl in his hands. After passing it off to the duchess, (Y/N) took it quickly and held it close to her head. 

“Do make sure Mrs. Bridgerton cleans it thoroughly before returning it.”

—

The sunlight hurt. 

In all of her years on this planet, the sunlight had never hurt as much as it did in this moment. A errant afternoon in the park, perhaps, leaving her skin a tad bit warm to the touch, but never did it sting like this.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Benedict sighed, walking over to her side of the bed. When had she gotten in bed?

“Unfortunately,” (Y/N) groaned, somehow managing to pull herself up to be seated. Her husband—doting as he was—had a tray of food and a pitcher of water waiting for her. “What’s this?”

“Charcoal,” Benedict tried his best to make it sound appetizing. By the look on his wife’s face, it had failed. “I had Cook mix it with some marmalade on bread to help with the taste. You need to sop up the booze somehow, love.”

“I didn’t drink that much,” (Y/N) lied, knowing full well she couldn’t fool even herself with it.

“I have never seen you in such a state,” Benedict nearly whispered, setting the silver tray on her lap. “I already sent correspondence to Daphne to thank her for insuring you got home safely.”

She took a hesitant bite of the bread. It wasn’t as awful as she imagined. Left much to be desired, sure, but it would do the job.

“I sent to Kate,” Benedict continued. “Told her you would meet her for tea later this week, as you obviously needed your sleep this morning.”

Another bite of the bread managed to go down before she reached for the glass of water in Benedict’s hand. “Thank you for that.”

“I’m still at a loss, however,” Benedict sighed. “What exactly went on at Danbury House?”

“I believe I need far more charcoal bread to entertain that conversation.”

“(Y/N).”

“It was a ladies night,” she chewed, trying her best to swallow her bite. “I cannot share what lewd gossip possibly came from it.”

He didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, beginning to wring his wrists mindlessly as he searched for the correct words to say. She hadn’t seen him do it since the day he proposed. Benedict Bridgerton was anxious.

“You said something, last night,” he finally confessed.

“I reckon I said a lot last night,” (Y/N) laughed lightly, polishing off her unfortunate breakfast.

“As I was trying to get you into bed, you kept mumbling a bunch of incoherent nonsense,” Benedict smirked lightly, “most of it made me laugh.”

“Glad to be a never-ending source of your entertainment.”

“You mentioned something about a baby.”

She didn’t dare look up at him.

“A few times, actually,” Benedict said. “Now, I don’t know what came of it, perhaps Daphne’s new addition sparked such an interest or you are with child now but—”

“But you wish for a baby,” (Y/N) finished for him, clasping her hands together. “Soon, yes?”

“What?”

“You purchased a new estate,” her hand motioned to their large bedchamber, “with various new rooms to fill with Bridgerton babies. A nursery already set up by our staff is only just down the hall. It’s only natural you expect that of me, given our honeymoon is over.”

“I bought our new home because my bachelor lodgings had nothing you loved,” Benedict corrected. “You yourself said you wished for an extensive library—I merely acted on those wishes.”

“Everyone expects us to have a baby soon,” (Y/N) groans, head in her hands. “All night I kept getting bombarded with questions and speculations about it! Most of it came from my very own family! Sure, I can handle a bit of gossiping from ladies who have nothing better to talk about, but my new family?”

“I had no idea—”

“It was the sole reason I had no desire to go last eve!” (Y/N) finally shouted, as if she meant to reach the heavens. “I know what is expected of me as a wife but what if—what if I don’t wish for that?”

“You do not wish for children?”

“No!” (Y/N) shook her head. “Well, maybe? Augh! I do not know!”

Benedict’s weight shifted on the bed, having now sat by his wife’s legs. “You do not need to know.”

“Of course I do,” she gasped. “I was raised for two things—to marry a respectable man and to have his respectable babies. One of those things I accomplished without much of a second thought—” 

“I’m glad you thought so little about marrying me,” Benedict jested.

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

“It made you smile, so I think the comment was well worth it.”

It had made her smile, she realized. The near-permanent frown of the morning seemed to have eased away with her husband’s jest.

“Every time someone asked me about it,” (Y/N) finally admitted, “I found another drink to drown myself in. I don’t believe anyone but perhaps Daphne really saw what was happening.”

“Does the idea of children really cause you such anguish?”

“It’s just—we’re so happy now,” (Y/N) took Benedict’s hand in her own. “I don’t want to muck up the joy and elation we have in each other by bringing a baby into the mix so soon.”

“We never really spoke on the topic,” Benedict said. “In our courtship, I mean. Usually a topic such as that one finds its way onto the stage, but somehow we evaded it.”

She held her breath.

“Truth be told, I never really gave children much of a thought, if at all,” Benedict chuckled, “far too interested in other pursuits. But, that’s not to say such a topic hasn’t been on my mind of late.”

“Has it?”

“Well, with my new nieces and nephew running around—crawling, I suppose—it may have sparked interest in me, yes,” Benedict looked directly at his wife. “But, for all intents and purposes, having a child requires two people and if you have any hesitancy in the topic—no matter little or seemingly small—I do not wish to further the endeavor.”

“What if I am never ready?” Her voice was small, the sound nearly dissolving against the down of the bedding.

“Then we will live a perfectly happy life regardless. You with your books and me with my paint,” Benedict squeezed her hand. Full of love, full of support. “More importantly, we will live such a happy life together.”

Perhaps it was the headache, or the pain from the bright morning sun, but (Y/N) felt the tears she had been holding back finally spill down her cheeks. Without even a second thought, Benedict pulled her into his arms and allowed her to cry, rubbing her back with thoughtful circles. He had somehow already moved the tray out of the way, as if he was preparing for a reaction like this. He knew her too well, knew her better than anyone could ever plan to know her. This thought only made her cry harder.

“What did I do to deserve you?” (Y/N) asked no one in particular, sniffling as she tried to compose herself. 

“I rather think I should be asking you that,” Benedict said softly, kissing her brow.

“You truly do not care if I never decide to want children?” (Y/N) asked again, needing to hear her husband’s answer one more time.

“You could decide tomorrow and change your mind a hundred times and I will always be in your corner,” Benedict said seriously. “That is what a husband does. That is what I do for you.”

She smiled.

“Although, I will need to take special care in ensuring you do not become with child accidentally—we’ve been lucky thus far, but I do not consider myself much of a betting man…”

“Were the races last week an oversight, then?”

“Ah, but that was a sure thing,” Benedict snuggled her closer, “what was merely a point to best my brother ended up with us having a healthy amount of spending money! More paints and books in our possession. A win-win if I ever saw one.”

“Kate mentioned something last night,” (Y/N) tried her best to look up at Benedict, but his tight embrace made it difficult. “Something about a bet you and Anthony had regarding children?”

“Oh,” his cheeks flushed, “that.”

“So it is true?”

“In the sense we made such a bet? Yes,” Benedict nodded. “But we made that bet years ago—back when the only idea of us having children regarded heirs for the title, never fathoming we’d do it out of love.”

“What did you wager?”

Benedict smiled, finally pulling away from his wife to look at her directly. “Five pounds.”

“That is all?” She nearly shrieked with laughter. “With such a serious bet I truly would have thought you would have put more on the wager.”

“I suppose I am still expected to pay up one day,” Benedict said thoughtfully. “Perhaps I shall gift it to him on Edmund’s eighteenth birthday?”

She smiled at the thought. “I think that would make an excellent present.”

“Because even if we are to have any children,” Benedict continued, “and that is still very much up in the air, surely Anthony and Kate will be constantly going at it to rival my dear Mama for the title of most Bridgerton babes.”

“Giving him a win regardless,” (Y/N) said. “I believe you’re right.”

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel this way about children,” Benedict said, “I never want you to feel as if your voice does not matter. We are equals in this marriage—partners—in every sense of the word.”

“I may one day change my mind,” (Y/N) amended, choosing her words carefully. “But as of right now, I think we’re perfectly suited the way we are.”

“Well suited, indeed,” he agreed, pressing another kiss to her cheek. “But, I do think this morning calls for a bath—as much as I adore your natural musk, my love, I already had the staff begin to warm water up for you.”

She took a moment to sniff herself. She smelled of sick, smoke and booze. How Benedict was not repulsed was beyond her. “Oh. I suppose a bath is… ideal.”

He rose from the plush bed, outstretching his hand for his wife to take.

“A bath for two, I should mention,” he grinned wickedly. A grin she had loved from the minute she met him. A grin that made her feel wanted and safe, all in the same breath.

She took his hand.

#Benedict Bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton x Reader #Bridgerton #Bridgerton x Reader #reader insert #fluff #is this self indulgent? perhaps #I'm very much on the fence about children like reader is #children can be a blessing!! but not everyone wants one #anyway... enjoy!

[kteezy997]

The Candy Man- Part Three//W.W.

Warnings: mention of weight gain, judging spouse for gaining weight, planning to trick spouse, and some brief but very filthy smut, oral sex female receiving

Your secret affair with Willy went on for several more weeks. It was the highlight of your week, every week. He would bring over his delicious chocolate concoctions for you to try, and you would make love all over your house.

You loved having something to look forward to. You loved having someone that took notice of you, and made you feel beautiful and desired. Willy was charming, of course, but also sensitive and bright eyed, with such a positive energy to be around.

Each moment with him was a slice of heaven. At first, it was all about the sex, and how excited and willing to learn he was. But, in time, you found yourself falling in love.

You weren’t surprised that your husband still had no clue about another man coming over to sleep with you. He hadn't picked up on the exponential change in your mood, or the scent of another man on you, or the little love marks on your body. The man you married wasn’t the brightest bulb on Christmas tree. But he did begin notice that you had gained a few pounds. He made a couple of snide comments about your weight.

You hadn’t really paid attention, but once he rudely pointed it out, you realized that you had plumped up slightly in your belly area. It hurt your feelings, especially since he barely spoke to you and now whenever he did, it was to acknowledge something he viewed as a flaw. You figured the extra weight was brought on by all the sugar you had been eating on account of your lover’s chocolate.

You thought very little of your body’s changes until you missed your period the following week. Your stomach dropped at the thought of being pregnant, but not by your husband. You were worried about what he would do if he found out. You worried for your sake and for Willy's. You decided to call your doctor to be totally sure, and then you’d figure out your next step.

…….

When Willy came by that day, he was smiley as usual and wrapped his arms around you as soon as he entered the house. “I’ve missed you.” he cooed, kissing you with passion. It was difficult to be apart for a week at a time, for the both of you.

“I missed you too, Willy.” you said, squeezing him back as you hugged. “Listen, I gotta talk to you about something.”

“Of course. Is everything okay? Does he know?” There was a sudden urge of panic in Willy’s last question.

“No, no. It’s just…I think I could be pregnant. And you are the father, I haven’t had sex with my husband in months. I don’t know what to do.” you were anxious about your future when it came to this baby. You loved Willy, but you were a kept woman, your whole life could turn upside down as a result of this situation.

Willy's eyes were as big as saucers and he was silent for a moment before he said, “Wow. Okay, okay, listen, everything is going to be alright. Whatever you decide to do, I will support you.” he assured you, taking your hand. “I know that we haven’t known each other very long, but I love you, y/n. It sounds crazy, I know.”

“It does, it does sound crazy. But I love you too, Willy.”

He smiled softly at you, and he pulled you to him, and held you in a warm embrace. He smelled sweet like sugar, but also like fresh cottony linens.

You felt so safe with him, but you didn't know if that feeling could translate into the real world. You life with Willy looked so uncertain at this point.

But, his words of love and support lifted your spirits.

……

The next day, as you suspected, the doctors visit confirmed that you were indeed having a baby.

You spent the next week thinking of a plan of action. You were so torn between your mundane, yet familiar life with your dull husband, and the idea of running away with Willy Wonka. Willy had told you that his dream was to own and run his very own chocolate factory, to share his creations with the entire world.

No matter how big or unattainable his dreams may seem to an outsider, you knew that Willy was the kind of person to not take "no" as answer, and to chase his dreams all the way through to fruition. He was so full of joy and optimism and so easy to love. It would be the greatest adventure to be with him on his candy journey, especially along with your child. You knew that he would be a wonderful father.

But you didn't know how you and Willy would carry on in the meantime, before he found the success he was striving for. You didn't even know where he lived, or if he even had a home. For goodness sakes, you couldn't give birth or raise a baby in the streets!

There was one thing that would inhibit your life going forward with your husband. You were married to a blond haired, blue-eyed man with an athletic body. And you were impregnated by a skinny man with green eyes and dark curly hair. If you wanted to make your husband believe the child was his, you would have to come up with some genetic evidence.

Well, your mother had curly hair, so that could work in your favor. But the green eyes...perhaps those were descended from your father's side, yes, from the great grandfather you never got to meet, as he had died when your father was still small. Your husband would believe you, as he wouldn't have anything to disprove it.

Now, with your plan in your mind, all you had to do was sleep with your husband, to make him believe he impregnated you. The timeline of your fake pregnancy wouldn't line up with the actual one, but you knew that your husband could be fooled easily.

This could work for awhile, you thought, until you and Willy came up with another plan to run away together.

…….

You told Willy everything. You even mentioned that you would have to sleep with your husband for the plan to work. You didn’t want to have sex with him, but you had to at this point.

“I understand, y/n. And I’m not mad at you, but maybe I am little jealous that he will get to be inside you, I have to admit.” he looked down at his hands in his lap, pouting his lip a little, “He doesn’t deserve to be with you. Not in any way. You’re way too good for him.”

“You’re so sweet, honey. We will be out of this situation soon.” you caressed his cheek, smooth and soft to the touch, “You’ll have your own chocolate shop in no time and then, your own factory.” you put your hand on your stomach, “We believe in you, Willy Wonka.”

He grinned, putting his hand on yours, “I can’t wait to meet him, or her. The baby is going to be so beautiful, just like you.”

“I hope they have your curls.” you said, softly brushing your fingers through his silky locks.

Willy blushed, “I still can hardly believe it. I’m going to be a father.” he shook his head, then looked directly into your eyes, “And I’m going to give this child the life they deserve, and you too. Neither of you will have to want for anything, if I have something to say about it. We will have more than we’ve ever dreamed of, y/n.” he declared, leaning in to kiss you most tenderly.

“I’ve been thinking, and I really think that I can help you with the business side of things. You can be the chocolate maker and I’ll be your business partner. That way, it’ll be like we are truly in this together, Willy.”

He smiled from ear to ear, “Pinky promise? It’s the most solemn vow there is.” he held his pinky out and you tucked your own around his firmly.

“Pinky promise.”

…….

You were a little hornier than usual due to your pregnancy, so you and Willy got down to business straightaway after your important conversation. This rendezvous could also help you out by remembering it later in with your husband. Thinking about sex with Willy would make your reactions to Mr. Hudson more convincing.

As you lover went down on you, you threw your head back on the couch throw pillows. You moaned, nearing your orgasm already when Willy suddenly stopped licking. You looked down at him between your legs, “What is it, Willy?”

“Does being pregnant affect the way you taste? Because…” he licked his lips, pondering over your flavor, “you taste…salty, which is unusual, because you’re always sweet.”

You laughed, “I don’t know. I’m sure it can cause a little bit of a change.”

“Oh, okay.” he nodded, “You know, I’ve masturbated to the thought of eating you and chocolate at the same time.” he admitted.

“We can try it sometime, baby. Just keep going for now. I’m so close.” you loved how he felt comfortable enough to admit something so dirty to you, but all you wanted in that moment was for him to make come.

“Yeah, yeah! Right, sorry babe.”

You erupted just moments later and squirted in Willy’s face. You couldn’t get the image of him smirking with your juices on his lips out of your head. It came in handy when you had to seduce your husband later that night. Willy had a way of being encouraging.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @chalametbich @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee x reader #timothée imagine #timothee chalamet smut #willy wonka #willy wonka x reader #wonka movie #wonka #wonka 2023

[cherriesformatt]

sharing the news || matt sturniolo part 2

matt x fem!reader

summary: after a while you decided its time to share the news of your new chapter in life with Chris and Nick

warnings: pregnancy

word count: 1,5k

a/n: thank you for over 100 notes under part 1! I decided to continued the story. I hope you will like it!

It's been a month since me and Matt found out that I'm pregnant. It’s been hell of a ride so far. We somehow managed to talked Chris and Nick out of my little episode and told them I just got my period and was really upset, tired and need Matt to go to the store for me. I spent entire next two days in Matt’s room trying to figure out our situation. I was also constantly sick and anxious. After than I just tried to be as normal as I could so no one would be suspicious.

At first it was like I didn’t know what I should do. But then I found myself thinking about the baby with my hand on my stomach and I knew I wanted to keep it. I also did hear Matt talking to my belly in the middle of night which made me cry so hard in the bathroom because of how cute that was.

Today was my first ultrasound appointment to confirm the situation and check if everything is alright.

“You know… I was thinking that if everything is good I would like to tell Chris and Nick and then we can decide how and when we want to tell the rest of the family” Matt looked at me when we stopped on the red light.

Keeping this a secret form his brothers was really hard for him because they always talked about everything with each other. Which was scary for me at first. Their whole relationship and building my own with Matt but also becoming part of theirs. Now I just admire the bond between them.

“Yes I was thinking the same” I smiled at him and put my hand on his thigh. I was nervous about only one thing.

“What I was thinking… Is that I will literally jump if your fucking triplets genes worked too hard and there is more than one of those” I said what was on my mind recently.

“Oh my goodness… I didn’t think about this” He put his hand over his mouth.

He was clearly scared now.

“We giving one to Chris in that case” I said seriously.

“Please , we are never leaving our kids with Chris, ever” he said.

I only laughed at that and patted his leg.

“It’s gonna be all good Matt, let’s manifest it’s only one for now” I said.

“Baby… I know this month wasn’t ideal for you and we both tried to cope with the fact that we’re going to have a baby but also only us knowing for now is really special” He looked at me for a second and his eyes went back to the road.

That was also exactly how I felt and I leaned forward to him and kissed his cheek.

“I love you Matty… I know this is all hard but you’re right” I said.

“I love you too sweet girl… okay we’re here, let’s do this” He parked the car and took a deep breath.

Our appointment went smoothly. They did my blood test which confirmed that I’m pregnant. They also did bunch of other tests to see if I’m all good and healthy. Thankfully I was. The last step was the ultrasound.

“Alright parents…” The doctor said and I gasped at the cold of the liquid that she put all over my lower belly.

She called us “parents”, that took me by surprise and I felt so weird.

“Ready?” She looked at me and smiled and I only nodded and closed my hand on one of Matt’s hands.

She started the thing and looked at the monitor. We couldn’t see it just yet.

“Okay… I found it… everything looks great. The baby is healthy. Looks like you’re about 6/7 weeks pregnant” She said.

“Only one?” Matt asked and wiggled on the chair.

“Oh my Lord, Matt… He is a triplet and we were kind of scared that you know… there’s gonna be more than one” I laughed and looked back at the doctor.

“Yes there’s only one” She laughed as well and turned the screen so we could see it too.

I felt like my heart skipped a beat when I saw a little thing moving on the screen. Like a dot. But I knew it’s our baby.

“Oh my…” I said and she pushed some kid of button and sound of a really fast heartbeat started to play from the machine.

“Is that?..” Matt gasped as well.

“That’s your baby’s heart beating… it’s really fast that’s normal and that’s actually really good. The baby is really healthy, you guys… congratulations” She said with a big smile.

But both of us were speech less. I caught Matt swiping tears from his cheek with a corner of my eye. That moment was something you can’t explain. You need to experience that yourself to know how much love I felt in this moment.

When we were back in the car I put all of my stuff in the back seat, closed the doors and turned around to go to my doors but I was met by arms of my boyfriend.

“Oh Matt…” I said hugging him back.

He hid his head in the crock of my neck and I run my fingers through his hair. I felt tears on my skin and I couldn’t help as my eyes started to water as well.

“We’re going to be okay. We can do this Matt. Together” I said but my voice broke I couldn’t exactly feel what’s happening.

“I know… y/n I’m just so happy that’s it’s overwhelming” He said pulling back to rest his temple against mine.

“I feel exactly the same way” I whispered looking him in the eyes.

He kissed me and pulled me even closer to his body. I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.

On our way back we stopped by target and some other places to get Nick’s and Chris’s favorite snacks, drinks and some funny, cheesy stuff that had “cool uncle” on it.

At home I put all of it in two boxes and also added a picture from the ultrasound to each.

This situation was so unreal for me and Matt. They were actually filming in the kitchen now. I really wanted to have their reaction on camera, so we told them that Matt wanted to do some kind of unboxing with their eyes blindfolded and they would have to guess what’s in the boxes.

When he texted me they are ready I took the boxes and come to the kitchen and put them in front of them and stood behind the camera.

“Okay you may open them” Matt said.

They started to pull stuff out.

“That’s bullshit it’s clearly Pepsi and popcorn” Chris said.

“Yes and that’s my own lip balm” Nick said annoyed.

“Okay how about this?” Matt took an ultrasound pictures and put into their hands.

“Piece of paper?” Chris said.

“No” Matt said and looked at me.

“Picture?” Nick said and showed it to the camera.

“Yes, it’s a picture” He nodded and smiled to the camera.

“Picture of us?” Chris asked and opened his can of Pepsi.

“No… but picture of someone that is in a room with us” Matt said.

“Oh my gosh you fucking freaking me out right now, what the fuck, are you a medium or what” Nick said an put the picture on the table.

“Okay… maybe just take your blindfolds off and Chris… you might want to wait with that fist sip” I said looking at them.

“I didn’t know you were here…” Nick said and started to undo the bandanna on his head.

I bit on my nails as I watched them taking those off. Then they looked at the boxes and I felt like I stopped breathing for a second.

“What the actual fuck? Is this some kind of prank?” Chris asked as his eyes widened.

“Oh my gosh are you kidding me?” Nick looked at me and stood up.

“Chris you owe me 1000 dollars… I knew it!” He hugged me tightly and I put my arms around him.

“Did you two bet on me being pregnant? What the hell?” I laughed.

My stress went away because how could I be stressed around them.

“I actually forgot that we did” Chris said and gave Matt a big hug.

“You guys… I don’t know what to say” Nick said pulling away from me.

“Well…. To be honest we don’t know either” I said and Matt only laughed.

“Yes… this feels really like a dream more than real life” Matt said looking at his brothers.

“Wait… are we first to know?” Chris asked.

“Of course you are… who else?” Matt looked at him and Nick went closer to them and they three shared a hug and than looked at me.

“Come here mama” Chris wiggled his eyebrows at me.

“Never, ever call me that again” I said seriously while coming into the hug.

They laugh and we stand like that for a minute or two.

“Okay I love you all but all three of you smell like three different colognes and I might throw up” I said stepping back.

This baby will be the luckiest baby in the whole world having them as a family.

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: Hi guys! Can't believe it's been so long since I last posted. Hope you guys enjoy this one! As always, if you see any typos... no you didn't

Warnings: Drunk Jake, unprotected p in v sex, cock warming, fingering, hand jobs, doing things we shouldn't in a public place, cussing, partying. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

Word Count: 5k

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Late has already bled into early by the time you manage to spot Jake in the crowd again. His back is to you as he speaks excitedly to someone you’ve never seen before – though there’s a definite chance that Jake hasn’t either (he’s a chatty drunk no matter how well he knows the person). 

Tonight is a celebration of sorts. A celebration of what is to come and what they've already done. With tour on break for the holidays, the Kiszka-Wagner clan had been taking some much needed R&R after such a long and grueling schedule of shows before they have to leave again. The first few days had seen Jake lounging at home, perfectly content to spend his days entirely wrapped up with you. You had binge watched some shows that he’d missed while gone, ordered take out from all the places that he’d been craving, and over all spent almost every minute of the day within each other’s company. 

But Jake is a man who likes action – regardless of how much he enjoys spending time at home with you. After a few weeks of nothing, you can tell that he’s itching to be doing something again. First there had been simple dinner gatherings with your immediate friends and family, then jam sessions with the rest of his brothers that had lasted well into the night, and then finally he’d begged to go to this party tonight. Josh is hosting (no doubt he’s experiencing the very same restlessness that his twin is) and a party hosted by Josh is always a sure fire promise of a fun night. 

So you’d happily agreed and given Jake the go ahead to let loose tonight – party as hard as he wanted for however long he wanted and you would be there to drive him home. His eyes had lit up at your offer before he’d given you a sweet kiss and a murmured thank you before scampering upstairs to call Josh and let him know that you two would be coming. 

But as excited as Jake had been to go out tonight, he’d still periodically found his way back to you, begging you to come join him where the music is the loudest. You’d politely declined him each time, wanting to give him time to spend with his friends and brothers after giving so much of his time to you. You know that his offer is genuine. Jake wants you by his side at all times (he’s a clingy motherfucker even when he’s sober) but you had simply told him you would prefer him to go spend time with everyone else instead. He’d begrudgingly agreed and you’d since been spending your time watching him go from sober to tipsy and finally to actually drunk within the span of the last few hours. You liked watching him like this – smiling and carefree amongst the people that he loves (along with a number of people that you’re pretty sure Josh only invited because he likes a full house). 

But the crowd has dwindled as the early hours of morning approach. It’s nearing 3AM now and only some 15 people remain. You’d been parked in a far corner for the past hour or so but you’re pulled from your spot by Jake calling your name. He, along with Josh, Daniel, and Sam, have made their ways over to the couches and chairs in Josh’s living room and consequently collapsed into them. The core group you like to call them, finding each other to close the night out amongst themselves. There are others still left elsewhere – some faces vaguely familiar and some completely foreign to you, but they’re all far too wrapped up in their own conversations and drunken storytelling to notice that the host and family has moved somewhere else. 

Josh sits in one of the loveseats, one arm lazily thrown around the shoulders of his partner – also suitably drunk, who’s nuzzled into his side. Sam sits in another chair, cheeks flushed and hair a complete mess as he pours himself another drink. You know already that he’d say he’s earned it since he’s spent the night “slaving away” as the party DJ. That leaves Daniel and Jake left to find their seats, Daniel finding his place on one end of the sofa and Jake on the other. You make your way to them – each of the boys exclaiming excitedly at your approach. 

“Y/n!” Josh booms, the sheer loudness of him drowning out the others and startling his poor partner, “Gracing is with her presence at last!” 

You giggle as you make your way to the sofa, eyeing the spot between Jake and Daniel. 

“Now that you all seem to have settled down a bit I thought I would join you.” 

As you make to sit down, Jake’s hands find your hips and guide you instead to sit down on his lap. He sighs contentedly as you surrender to him without a fight, easing down on the tops of his thighs and settling your back into his chest. 

“Hi.” You tell him, twisting as much as you can in his lap to turn and see his face. His cheeks are flushed and a yummy sheen of sweat adorns his neck and temples. Eyes dark and lips looking particularly plump, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Hi there.” He answers back. “Missed you.” 

He smells like alcohol and weed – a combination that seems to have left him feeling particularly touchy as his hands settle themselves possessively on your waist. He’s warm against you, the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your back lulling you into a relaxed state as he falls effortlessly back into the conversation with the rest of the boys. His words rumble in his chest and you take the opportunity to lean your head back into the space between his neck and shoulder. The smell and heat of him sets off some carnal, feral part of your brain and you find heat of your own pooling between your thighs. You ignore the feeling, opting instead to try and focus your mind on the conversation at hand. 

“-and so I told him that he would either have to sleep there or find someone else to take him home because I wasn’t doing it.” Sam’s voice wafts through the air. You’ve got no idea what he’s talking about but you have a sneaking suspicion that he probably isn’t all that sure of what he’s saying either. 

“You’ve always been a little punk ass.” Josh interjects, giggling a little bit at his own words. “Since you came out of the womb.” 

Sam meets him with a scowl. 

“I just learned from the best, actually.” He snarks back, though there’s no real heat behind his words. 

“Don’t talk about Danny like that.” Jake’s rumbling voice interrupts and though you can’t see him, you can hear the grin as he speaks. “He’s a wonderful influence, Samuel.”

Danny laughs heartily, tossing his head back as he does so. Josh smiles like he’s just won a prize and Sam only meets Jake with an eyeroll. 

“I was talking about you two.” He says, pointing between the twins. 

They continue on with their bickering and you do your best to keep up with them. The few remaining guests filter their way out one by one, giving thanks to Josh on their way out. The boy’s conversations weave in and out, jumping from topic to topic as they often do. It's hard to keep up, especially as your focus strays from the conversation to the uncomfortable kink in your back from sitting in this position against Jake’s chest. You shift a little bit, settling down further in his lap to ease the feeling. As you shift, a hiss escapes him and his hands tighten on your hips. 

“Angel.” He whispers, tilting his head down to press his lips closer to your ear. “Careful.” 

You can’t help the way your eyes widen and your core pulses at his tone. His words are rough and ever so slightly slurred. His fingertips dig into the meat of your thighs in a way that makes you dizzy with a sudden want for him to take you right here in front of everyone. 

“Something wrong?” You answer him back, turning your head and capturing his lips with yours. Alcohol and weed and Jake hit your tastebuds and you shift once again in his lap. 

“Something’s hard.” He murmurs against your lips. 

And he is. 

You can feel him now, hot and solid against your ass. It sends your blood boiling and your cunt clenching around nothing. 

You exhale shakily, willing your voice to remain passive and unbothered. 

“Poor baby.” You say, turning back away from him and earning yourself a growl from deep in his chest. 

“Jake stick you with being DD for the night, Y/n?” Daniel asks, causing everyone’s eyes to shift towards you and Jake. You can feel him tense behind you. He’s still rock hard against you and everyone’s eyes on him only serve to make him more excited as he tries to play it cool. 

“I offered.” You answer Danny, dropping your hand onto Jake’s thigh. “Plus, he’s a handful to deal with even when I’m sober.” You squeeze his thigh. “So I figured I’d lay off the alcohol tonight.”

“Oh he’s something alright.” Josh supplies, grinning ear to ear at his brother. You worry suddenly that he knows somehow. Freaky twin thing and all that, especially given the Cheshire smile he shoots your way. But he looks away and back to the others quickly and you dismiss the idea. Freaking twins.

Conversation divulges again and the attention falls from you and Jake. But he’s worked up now and there’s no way he’s letting you off the hook that easily. Sober Jake is a horndog… drunk Jake is damn near insatiable. 

“Play nice.” Jake warns you, his voice just barely loud enough that you can hear it. “Don’t wanna have to punish you.” 

That finally makes your breath stutter and halt in your chest. Jake can feel you still against him and he chuckles. 

So the game begins. 

Wordlessly, you shift your weight and slide your ass across his crotch. Jake bites his lip and his eyes blaze as he watches you settle your rear onto the sofa next to him with an innocent smile. With your legs draped across his hips (still keeping his hard on from being seen by everyone in the room) you’re free now to settle into his side. You’re playing a dangerous game messing with him like this but the new position allows for you to press your calf into the growing bulge beneath his dark jeans and for your hands to settle on his midsection. Deceivingly innocent to others but filled with possibilities to tease him. Jake knows this though, and those dark eyes of his are pinned to you, lust-blown and dangerous as his breathing picks up. 

You look away and do your best to turn your attention back to the group. Jake does the same, but the feeling of his hard dick against your calf is proof enough that he’s still more than distracted. 

As the conversation carries on, you do your best to interject every now and then to at least pretend to be interested. But you’re more interested in taking Jake home and devouring him. But you suppose the waiting will only make the reward sweeter in the end. Jake, for his part, seems to be feeling the very same. His eyes dart to your face periodically, heavy lidded and carrying the weight of how much he wants you right now. But even with the lust coursing through the both of you, he still looks at you whenever he makes a joke (making sure he’s succeeded in making you laugh) and his fingertips absentmindedly drum songs and beats onto your shin. As worked up as he is, his sweetness still seems to outweigh the alcohol in his system. It just makes you want him more. 

Bored with waiting and ready for him to say it’s time to go, you delicately trace your fingers across his midsection. You press your fingertips into the soft flesh of his sides as you keep your eyes trained anywhere but him. Jake cocks his head to look at you, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as you shift your leg and rub your calf across him. Half-hard still, his body tenses. His hand finds yours on his belly and he stills it, grip tightening in warning. 

Not satisfied with his reaction, you press your leg down again and this time his spine goes ramrod straight as his hips buck up on their own to meet the feeling. 

That’s one point for you. 

“Why are you trying to start shit?” He murmurs, taking a sip from the glass that he’d just refilled. 

“Because I can.” 

“Because you’re desperate.” The last word comes out as an almost growl. 

You shake your head. 

“I’m not anything.” 

“You think I can’t tell?” He asks you, his head tilted down and gaze trained solely on you. You scan the rest of the group, afraid that they’ll hear whatever filth is about to spill from between his plump lips. Thankfully, they’re all far too engaged with their own conversation to notice what’s going on between you and Jake. “Your cheeks are flushed all pink like they get when you’re horny.” He starts, fingers trailing up from your calf to your thigh. “And you're breathing fast. Like you do when you’re wet.” His fingers go higher still and your thighs clench despite yourself. 

He wins the point this time and you can’t help the little sigh that escapes you. 

“Maybe I’m just tired of waiting.” It’s all you can think to say – the lust fogging your brain and making it impossible for you to come up with a witty retort. You want him. Now. 

“You’re going to have to wait a while longer.” 

“Why?” The question is reminiscent of a young child. Whiny and full of demanding petulance at his refusal to take you home and fuck you this instant. 

“Because someone,” he shifts his hips slightly, “made me rock fucking hard. And I can’t get up like this right now. Not with all them” his eyes dart to the group, “sitting right there.” 

You huff a breath. 

“Please.” 

He hums and places his glass on the table next to you. His own control is cracking under the weight of your heavy gaze (and calf that's teasing his dick relentlessly) and you realize with glee that you've gotten what you wanted. 

“Gentlemen,” he starts, clapping his hands down on your legs and interrupting one of Josh’s long-winded stories. “I think we’re going to call it a night. The missus is getting tired.” He grins at you and you flush even more. 

“Leaving without helping clean up?” Josh demands, extracting himself from his partner’s grip and rising to his feet.

“Oh, always.” Jake answers him, words still slightly slurred. “But you’ve got these fine young gentlemen here to help you.” He gestures to Sam and Danny who both groan but stand up with Josh anyway. 

As they begin busying themselves with picking up glasses and paper plates, you raise your legs from Jake’s lap and stand. He follows you – though he teeters dangerously once he’s on his feet. 

“Easy.” You warn, wrapping an arm around his waist and helping him balance. 

“I’m fine.” He laughs, but his steps remind you of a baby deer trying to walk. 

As the two of you make your way outside, you both hiss as the cold of the night hits you. You press yourself further into Jake’s side. As you reach the car – parked all the way by the road, you make to open the passenger door for Jake but he pulls you into a kiss first. 

His tongue plunges into your mouth and he groans as you grant him easy access. Despite the cold, your body thrums with the heat of your arousal. Jake’s hands are sloppy as they caress every inch of you he can get – your sides, your tits, your ass, everything. As you reach up to tangle your hands in his hair he leans his full body weight against you, pressing you into the side of the car and caging you there. You can't quite tell if it's just so he can keep you where he wants you or because he can't stand upright any longer. Either way, wetness floods your panties at the feeling of his body pressing into you. Solid is the only word you can think of to describe him. 

“Jake.” You moan as his lips trail down to your neck, the heat of his mouth a delicious juxtaposition to the frigid wind. He’s relentless, drunkenly nipping and biting at your skin in all the ways he knows you like. “Jake, quit.” You tell him, even though it’s the last thing you want him to do. 

“Why?” The question is muffled by your skin, his lips never leaving your throat. 

“Get in the car. It’s cold as fuck.” 

He pouts but he straightens up and removes himself from you and you ignore the ache in your belly at the loss of contact. Jake’s fingers wrap themselves around the handle of the door but not of the passenger seat. Instead, he opens the door to the back and raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Jake.” 

“Y/n.” His tone matches yours mockingly, his eyes glittering. 

“It’s freezing.” 

“So let’s warm up then.” 

You try to fight it. You know you should. You’re out here where any one of the neighbors could look outside to see what’s happening if they look hard enough. If Josh looks outside and sees your car still here there’s no doubt that he’ll know what’s happening. Sam and Daniel are spending the night and are probably drunk enough that they’re already passed out but who knows if one of them might happen to look out a window. 

But the ache between your legs has grown nearly unbearable and you don’t want to wait any more than Jake does. And as you watch him clumsily climb into the back seat and lean himself back against the opposite door you know that any shred of resistance you had is gone. 

“You’re drunk.” You scold, unwilling to admit defeat even as you climb into the car with him and shut the door behind you. It’s freezing in the car and your teeth chatter slightly as you settle in. 

“Quit fussing.” He tells you, spreading his legs and pulling you in to settle between his thighs. “Don’t wanna have to wait.”

At that – at the pleading, whiny way he says the words, you cave and crash your lips back to his. His hands find your sides again, squeezing possessively. Your own hands find his shoulders as you attack his mouth with yours. The kiss has no real finesse, all teeth and tongue, but it’s perfect. Jake is moaning beneath you with every pass of your tongue and you realize with no small amount of excitement that the alcohol in his system has taken away any ability he had to hold all those noises in. He’s always vocal. But this? This is like Heaven to your ears. 

His hand drops to the waistband of your pants and his fingers dance along the skin there before slipping beneath. His fingers are cold as they graze over your clit through the fabric of your panties. His middle finger presses in, applying just the right amount of pressure as he begins to rub in little circles. You moan loudly into the kiss and his answering groan tells you all that you need to know about how into this he is. 

“You’re soaked.” 

You nod, head falling back and mouth dropping open as he pushes your panties aside and circles your swollen clit even faster. 

“Take these off.” 

You obey, sitting backwards and toeing your shoes off before sliding your pants off your legs. It’s cramped and clunky in the confined area of the car but Jake watches you like it’s still the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Your shirt is next, discarded carelessly into the floorboard as you paw at his own shirt, desperate to see more of him. Jake lifts his arms and pulls his short off, the fabric joining your clothes as well. 

No matter how many times you see him like this, you still can’t help but be amazed. He’s glorious before you, all milky skin and soft curves that make you want to bite him. His arms flex as he pushes his jeans down, the strength of his biceps and forearms the perfect balance to the rest of him. Without pausing long enough to think about it, you drop low and sink your teeth into the supple flesh of his side. 

He cries out in answer, arching his back and head falling back with a thud against the window. 

“Y/n. Fuck.” He whines and you take his moment of surprise to palm him through his boxers. He hadn’t been lying earlier when he said he was hard as a rock. Even through the fabric you can feel the heavy heat of him. 

You trail your mouth down to the waistband, licking along the skin there before grabbing it with your teeth and pulling them down, allowing his cock to spring free. You sink lower still, intent on enveloping him in the warmth of your mouth but he stops you with a hand in your hair. 

“Wait.” He sighs out breathlessly, causing your eyes to flick to his questioningly. “Not gonna last if you do that.” He grins sheepishly and you laugh. 

“Who’s desperate now?’’ You ask him, echoing back to his taunt from earlier. 

“It’s your fault.” 

With that, he sits up and surges forward, slamming his lips to yours again and pushing you backwards. He settles on top of you, his cock resting against your ass cheek. The movement had taken much effort, his drunken limbs just a little too clumsy for finesse and grace and you both laugh a little as you settle. Finally, he pulls your panties all the way down and you whine as the cool air hits your wet center. 

“Jesus.” He murmurs, those dark eyes of his devouring the sight of you beneath him. “Been waiting for this all night.” 

He sits upwards, gripping his cock in his fist as you spread your legs for him. The car is small, your back shoved into the corner and your head cocked at an odd angle. But none of it matters as he finally slides himself into you. You cry out, hands reaching out to grip his shoulders. His groan is deep and rough as he bottoms out and pauses, allowing you a moment to adjust to the familiar stretch of him. 

“Move.” You beg him, hooking your legs around his hips and using your heels to dig into his ass and pull him closer. 

He plants both hands on either side of you, fingers digging into the leather of the seats as he starts to rock his hips. His brows tip upwards and his eyes fall closed as you clench around him helplessly. 

“So fucking tight.” He slurs, hips snapping into yours deliciously. The air between the two of you is thick – humid and warm enough that the windows have begun to fog up completely. 

“Harder.” You whine and his body trembles and shakes as he tries to follow your command. 

His mouth drops open and a loud moan escapes him as he picks up his pace slightly. His arms tremble where they fight to keep himself up in this position and you giggle softly at him. 

“Switch with me before you fall over.” You urge him before tossing your head back with a moan as his cock brushes against that special spot inside of you. Even drunk off his ass he can still find it with ease. 

“Fine.” He huffs, pulling out of you and settling back into his earlier position with his back against the door. “Sorry.” He mumbles, giving you a drunken little grin. 

“S’okay.” You tell him, climbing over his thighs to straddle him. “Can watch you better this way anyway.” 

He preens a little at that, cheeks flushing a dark red as you grip is cock in your hand and guide the head to your entrance. You sink down and whine as this position allows him to slip even deeper into you than it had before.

You roll your hips and moans punch out of both of you. He always feels so fucking good – but having to wait so long for it tonight has only made it even more rewarding now. His hands grip your ass, kneading into the flesh and guiding your pace. His eyes are half lidden as he watches you and sweat begins to bead at his hairline. The look he’s giving you – hair a mess and mouth dropped open, is a familiar one. It’s one you’ve seen on his face countless times; both as he’s fucked you and as he plays his guitar on stage. It’s enough to have the coil in your belly begin to tighten already. 

“So fuck’n beautiful.” He moans lowly, his eyes pinned to where your tits bounce with each roll of your hips. 

You whine and lean downwards, kissing him roughly as his hips begin to thrust upwards to meet yours. You can tell that he’s losing it beneath you – his focus torn between trying to kiss you and trying to match the rhythm you’ve set. He’s pussy drunk and actually drunk and the thin bit of control he has left is starting to break. 

He uses his grip on your ass to guide you upwards, pressing your breasts into his face. His lips lock around one hard nipple as one hand comes up to palm the other one. He moans louder still, the sound muffled against your tit. The feel of him… he’s everywhere in this cramped car and all of your senses have been completely overtaken with just Jake. 

“Please.” He whines, detaching his mouth from your nipple with a wet pop. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” 

His teeth dig into his bottom lip, his face contorting in pleasured agony as he holds himself back, waiting for you to finish first. You toss your head back and cry out, his cock hitting your sweet spot as you ride him into oblivion. The noises falling from him are barely human – rough and broken in a way that lets you know that he's completely overtaken with the pleasure of it all. Your orgasm finally hits you, seeming to start at your toes and work its way all the way through you. Your body shakes as you ride it out, walls fluttering and clenching around his cock. Your moans are only interrupted by cries of his name as he fucks you through it before finally your brain manages to come back to reality to take in the sight below you. 

Jake – drunk and fucked out with his eyes pleading up at you. 

“Gonna fucking cum, Y/n.” He thrusts up once, twice, three more times before he’s losing it. His head thrashes and curses fall from his lips like prayers. It goes on forever, his body tensed up and legs shaking on either side of you as he spills his release into you.

Finally, his body relaxes and stills. And his beautiful eyes blink open to look at you. A dopey and satiated smile spreads across his lips. You can feel his cock where it’s still inside you softening, but neither of you really want to move yet. 

“You’re so pretty.” He says with an alcohol-drenched smile. 

“And you’re still very drunk.” You giggle, kissing him softly. 

“I don’t have to be drunk to be able to see that you’re pretty.” He answers with a slight pout. Even inebriated he’s not going to let you run from a compliment. His ability to still recognize those little insecurities that you still have, no matter how much he’s had to drink, makes you smile softly down at him. 

“You’re pretty too.” 

He flushes and opens his mouth to retort but it’s cut off with a hiss as you pull off him. You reach down to grab your phone where it’s been discarded on the floorboard with yours and his clothes and the screen lights up enough to make you squint your eyes.

Two notifications await you. 

Josh 4:27AM

you guys okay? 

Josh 4:34AM

in my driveway?? :( 

You can’t help but laugh at the message before clicking your phone off. The windows have completely fogged up now so there's no denying your guilt to Josh.

As you turn back to face Jake, his eyes have closed and he looks almost asleep. 

“Hey.” You smack his chest and he startles, making you laugh even harder. “Get dressed so we can go home.” 

He groans and sits up, eyes looking glassy but still wearing a satisfied smirk.

“Round two once we get home?”

“If you can stay awake that long.”

“Challenge accepted.” 

--------

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#dee's writing #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka

[nicksbestie]

can you do one where chris cares for reader while she’s sick? thank you!

Under The Weather - C. Sturniolo

Summary : You get sick often, but Chris always runs the risk of catching it to be close to you. <3

Warnings : mentions of being sick, fever, sore throat

Word Count : 691

Pairing : Chris Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : N/A!

You hated being sick.

You couldn’t get anything done, you were exhausted, and you were bored most of the time because of the fact that you couldn’t get up for long periods of time to do anything even somewhat entertaining. A lot of your time being sick was spent watching dumb television shows, a shit ton of YouTube, and a lot of sleeping. So when you woke up one morning with a fever, you wanted to just curl up and sleep for the rest of the week. You’d had enough fevers in your life to know when you had one, and by the way you curled into Chris’ side, desperate for the extra warmth, it confirmed it in your mind. 

It wasn’t until Chris woke up that you even checked your temperature, and it was because he insisted on it. He wasn’t worried about catching anything from you, but he wanted to make sure that you didn’t need any urgent medical care. If you had to go that would be a whole new fight, because you hated going to the doctors, but luckily, your fever wasn’t high enough for that. He let you stay curled up in bed as he went downstairs to get you some medicine and something to drink, knowing that you would not be excited to be up and moving around anytime soon. 

When he got back, he closed the door and made sure that the blinds were closed as well, soft, dim, lighting filling the room, so it didn’t cause you a headache on top of the uncomfortableness you were already going through. If anybody asked you, you would say that he is easily the best boyfriend in the entire world. Sure, maybe it was not far above the line of the bare minimum, but you still appreciated it so much more than he would ever understand. He laid down next to you, gently taking your phone from your hand and replacing it with the medicine and juice, taking stupid selfies on your camera while you were distracted. The silly behavior made you laugh, distracting you from your fever for a split second. 

You had a sore throat as well, so the medicine and cold juice going down helped ease that pain for a couple seconds, and you could feel it coating your throat, so you hoped that it would take a lot of the pain away for a couple of hours once it, combined with the painkiller, finally kicked in. You didn’t stay up for very long, cuddling back up into Chris’ arms, and watching what he was watching on his phone with him until you finally dozed off again, a nap desperately being needed so that you didn’t feel as badly. 

You slept for another couple of hours, waking up still in your boyfriend’s arms, and you didn’t move for a while. He knew you were awake but he didn’t want to disturb you, so he didn’t move either, except to press a kiss to the top of your head and brush some of the curls off of your forehead. Your skin was still warm underneath his touch, so he took your temperature again, moving as little as possible so that you stayed comfortable and as happy as possible in your current state. It had gone down a degree, now a low grade fever, and he could tell that you both were really hoping it was just a twenty-four hour bug and it would go away soon. 

Chris got up when you both realized you were hungry, getting some food for the both of you to eat in bed, and he finished off your food when you decided you had eaten enough and wanted to lay back down. You ended up watching some terrible show and scrolling through social media for a little while, before you fell asleep for the second nap of the day. One of the last thoughts in your head as you fell asleep was about how even if it was truly just a twenty four hour bug, Chris would be there to help you feel better even after it was over.

taglist : @blahbel668 @mattsgirlfrieeend @69isabella69 @mayhem-72 @iculdstealurgf @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturnioloslife @heartsforkarina @nervousrebelglitter @sturniclo @elliegrace-7 @mattsturnioloisbae @strnilo

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#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo age regression #matt sturniolo age regression #nick sturniolo age regression #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x y/n #chris sturniolo headcanon #christopher sturniolo x y/n #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris #fanfic #boyfriend chris sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt x y/n

[luvrhischier]

donald and daisy // jd & tz

pairings: jamie drysdale x reader , trevor zegras x reader (platonic)

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none

a/n 2: i wrote this in an hour so pls excuse and grammar or spelling mistakes :)

Technically you did tell them. You did tell them that last weekend you saw a sweet but scared dog on the side of the road and had to stop and help him before he got hit. You also did tell them that you took him to a shelter to see if he was okay and had a chip, he didn’t. But what you might not have told them was that you had spent that week going and checking to see if the dog had been claimed. You also didn’t tell them that you had also spent that week bonding with him and that you personally named him Donald. ‘Never name them,’ is what everyone says ‘you’ll get attached,’ and boy was that true. 

Now here you were inside a pet store with Donald on a leash trailing behind you picking up everything he needed, and way more. You bent down to Donald’s level at the toy section. 

“You can pick whatever toy you want,” you smiled as you scratched behind his ear. Donald turned and began to sniff every toy. He walked down the aisle and then stopped, his tail began to wag intensely. “Which one?” You asked. You watched in disbelief as he nudged a duck toy. You picked it up and laughed as his eyes followed, never taking his eyes off of the duck. You didn’t even care when the cashier said the total at checkout. He deserved all of it and more. 

On the way home, that you shared with Trevor and Jamie, Donald had his head out the window and you fell in love even more. As you pulled into the driveway you were filled with nerves and excitement.

“Welcome home Donald,” you beamed. You took him inside and let him sniff around and get used to his new surroundings before going to get everything from the car. The boys were at practice so you had plenty of time to get everything set up. Donald followed you the entire time. When you were done you looked down at him. “Let’s get you cleaned up and ready to meet your dad and uncle Trevor.” 

You never really checked Jamie’s location, you completely trusted him and sharing it was more of a safety thing, but today was different. Your eyes never left the little picture of him on find my friends. You needed to know where he was so you could prepare yourself. 

He saw he was turning down the street. You quickly got up and led Donald to your room and asked him to lay down. He did. You smiled before running out, leaving the door open just enough. 

You made it back to the living room just in time. You heard Trevor laughing at one of his own jokes as they came into view. 

“Hey guys!” You said, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. The boys looked at each other before looking back at you.

“Hi,” Trevor drew out as he dropped his bag. “You’re never this excited to see me,” he said suspiciously.

“Baby, what did you do?” Jamie sighed as he dropped his own bag.

“What?! What makes you think I did something? Why would you think I did something? That’s hurtful.” You put your hand on your chest acting like you were hurt by their assumptions. They both just looked at you with raised eyebrows. “Alright, fine! Do y’all remember when I told you I saved that dog last week?” You said. They both slowly nodded. “Well what I didn’t tell you is that I’ve been going and checking on him everyday since then and you know just like hanging out with him.” 

“Oh was he claimed?!” Trevor asked hopefully. 

“No and the mandatory waiting period for him to be claimed ended today.” You nervously played with your fingers.

“Okay and?” Trevor asked, now confused. You could see that Jamie however was putting the pieces together. 

“Baby, are you about to say what I think you’re about to say?” Jamie asked. You smiled nervously. 

“Donald!” You said loudly. Suddenly the sound of paws padding against the floor was heard.

“You didn’t,” the boys said in unison.

Donald ran in and instantly ran to the boys. Body swaying side to side in excitement. Trevor bent down and Donald started to lick his face. Jamie on the other hand just looked down in shock. 

“Surprise,” you said nervously. Trevor and Jamie looked up at you.

“This is literally the best thing I’ve ever come home from practice to!” Trevor continued petting Donald. Jamie’s eyes were wide with shock.

“Jamie please say something,” you asked, you were scared he was mad. Jamie looked back down and finally he smiled. He bent down and Donald turned to him. You let out a big breath. You watched as both of them played with Donald. “Jamie I love you but please never scare me like that again. I thought you were furious,” you said as you sat down with everyone. 

“I was just shocked. I’m sorry,” he looked at you with sympathetic eyes. You just smiled. 

“So why is his name Donald?” Trevor asked. You looked at him in disbelief. 

“Please tell me you’re joking,” you laughed.

“I was gonna ask the same thing,” Jamie said. You couldn’t believe 

“Your team was literally owned by Disney and neither of you get the reference?!” They both looked at each other and shrugged. “I can’t believe this,” you whispered in disbelief. “Guys, ‘Donald Duck’, from Mickey Mouse! You know, the one in a relationship with ‘Daisy Duck’?! The name of the team dog!” You finished. They were both quiet for a moment, a moment too long in your opinion, before they both connected the dots. 

“Listen it’s been a long day,” Jamie sighed.

“And I took a puck to the helmet earlier,” Trevor defended himself. You scoffed before gasping, scaring the boys and Donald. 

“I’ll be right back!” You said excitedly. You ran to your room and picked up the toy Donald had chosen. You ran back while holding it behind your back. “So I took him to the pet store and let him pick out any toy he wanted and you’ll never believe what he picked!” You finally showed the boys the toy and both their jaws dropped when they saw the duck. 

“There’s no fucking way!” Trevor said in disbelief. Wanting to know why he wasn’t getting attention anymore Donald turned towards you and when he saw what you had in your hand he ran up to you in excitement, jumping to get the toy.

You laughed as Jamie and Trevor’s jaws dropped once again.

#jamie drysdale #trevor zegras #jamie drysdale x reader #trevor zegras x reader #jamie drysdale imagine #trevor zegras imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

[bluejeanstrash]

pt. 3 manipulate

pt. 1 manspread, pt. 2 mansplain

‘how was that?’ his head peeks out from under the covers - mouth wet, eyes sparkling. god, he loved eating pussy.

‘that was…amazing’ you let out a satisfied sigh as he makes his way up to you, giving you a little kiss before rolling over to grab his phone from the bed side table. 

‘ugh, i gotta go’ he complains, checking the time.

he was mingyu, this dude you’d met on one of the many dating apps you’d downloaded during that 3 week period where you just couldn’t get cheol out of your mind.

distraction and validation come easy when you have a hundred guys telling you how pretty you look, and mingyu was one of them. but fuck, he was so much prettier. a swipe right later you both had started speaking a little but then cheol ate you out, so...yeah.

speaking of cheol. since that night, you had had two more encounters with him. first, where he needed to cum after his workout and he decided your tits would be the perfect place to do it, and second, where he’d seen you on campus and fingered you in an empty classroom making you cum embarrassingly quick. both times unfortunately amazing, and both times he had made you say one thing over and over to him - that you were his dumb slut.

and then he had seemingly disappeared. college was off for a couple of weeks and you hadn’t seen him at all.

not wanting to go down the black hole of cheol thoughts like last time, you decided to hit up mingyu and go see if he really was that pretty in person. and geez, he was. but he was also kind of a…himbo. you had spent the entire date contemplating whether or not to go on another but when he kissed you at the end you knew you would.

the way his tongue moved in your mouth told you it would move really well other places too. and you were right. mingyu was like a little puppy - sweet and eager to please. plus he never called you any names. not that you missed it or anything. 

‘are you still coming for the party on saturday?’ you ask, watching him put on his pants.

he nods excitedly ‘mhmm. i’ll have to leave for sometime in the middle though. you know my friend joshua?’

you shake your head no.

‘the guy with the hair’

‘what hair?’

he doesn’t have time to explain.

‘well, anyway, he’s having this thing at his dorm as well. so, i’ll drop by and come back’

an okay and a goodbye hug later mingyu rushes out. and then a second later jogs back into the room.

‘wait, it’s not a costume party, right?’

‘no, why would it be a costume party?’

he shrugs ‘sometimes parties are costume parties’

well, he’s not wrong.

(saturday)

‘oh, by the way, you look really nice’ mingyu smiles, playing with the fabric of your top.

you did look nice. you were feeling really cute today, all dressed up from head to toe. and maybe you’d even put in a little more effort than usual just incase someone showed up to the party.

but it had been almost 2 hours and no sign of cheol yet. 

‘i’m going to leave in like 10 minutes? i’ll call you when i’m done’ mingyu says, pouring himself one last drink. 

ugh, you really wish cheol was here to see the gorgeous man standing opposite you. and as soon as you finish that thought, you hear a commotion near the front door. it sounds like loud greetings and chad-like laughs - it sounds like cheol.

you feel this sudden head-rush as you spot him, his presence already fucking with you and he’s not even fully entered the room. and as soon as he walks in, his eyes find you. he grins, checking you out, eyes stopping at that cute little skirt you were wearing.

and then he spots mingyu, his smile immediately dropping. god, that’s satisfying.

you deserve a little payback. so, you spend the next 10 minutes doing entirely too much - giggly laughs, flirtatious arm touches, secretive whispers. and all throughout, you can see cheol’s jaw clenching with irritation. subtlety was not really his thing and the displeasure is written all over his face. so satisfying.

but as he continues to watch you interact with mingyu - all of it so friendly - that familiar smug smile makes its way onto his face again, annoying you to no end.

ah, he gets it now. in cheol’s head you were so upset that he disappeared, that mingyu was some guy you kept around to distract yourself from thoughts of cheol. and his massive cock. and tonight you had brought him here to make cheol jealous. 

he’s only half right. 

and as soon as mingyu leaves, cheol makes his way over to you, a beer in his hand and a knowing smirk on his face.

‘cute boyfriend’ 

‘he’s not my boyfriend’ you correct him. he wasn’t. this thing with mingyu was strictly casual.

‘mmm, looks like he is. got so bored without me that you had to find some random guy?’ he pouts.

‘what do you guys do? go on little dates?’ he laughs out loud. apparently the thought of you going on dates was just so funny. 

‘fuck off’ you roll your eyes.

‘you should introduce me to him next time. we can swap stories about you’ he grins, and every “time” you’ve had with cheol flashes through your mind. asshole.

‘well, he’ll be back in a while, so you can introduce yourself to him’ 

‘oh yeah? can’t wait to meet your little boyfriend’ he taunts, sounding so cocky that it pisses you off.

so you decide to clarify it once and for all. and you know you shouldn’t phrase it the way you’re about to but he’s just such a smug fuck and you want to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face.

‘i already fucking told you, he’s not my boyfriend. he’s just a guy i’ve been fucking’ you say airily.

well, it works. the second you finish that sentence cheol’s face drops; his expression hardening into what you can only describe as fury.

‘you’ve been what?’

‘i’ve been..fucking’ you repeat, much softer this time.

there’s a tense pause as he stares at you, the corners of his mouth pulling into a tight frown.

‘what part-’ he takes a step closer to you as you stumble back ‘-of you’re my dumb slut did you not understand?’

you know it’s a rhetorical question but it feels like you should have an answer for him.

for cheol, it was simple - the moment you got down on your knees that first night, you were his slut. he hadn’t even fucked you yet and here you were with another guy’s dick in you? he can’t take it.

‘come with me’ he says, taking the last swig of his beer before walking out of the room. you don’t have to follow him. you could just say no and stay at the party. but you do. because what’s an addict without their fix?

so you follow him, heart-pounding, all the way till he stops in front of your door.

‘open it’ 

there’s a moment of hesitation before you reach for your keys. you can feel him behind you as you fumble with them, his hand gripping the nape of your neck. and as soon as the door unlocks, he pushes you in, pinning you up against the first wall he sees.

he presses his body right up against yours, almost suffocatingly, as his hands lift up your skirt and then pull down your panties, letting them drop to your ankles.

you can feel his warm breath on your ear as his fingers find your clit, rubbing in circles until he can feel your wetness.

‘how big is he?’ he asks suddenly, words dripping with jealousy.

he pushes one finger inside you as you gasp at the sudden intrusion ‘this much?’

‘or this much?’ he adds a second.

‘bigger?’ a third finger forces inside you, your pussy being stretched more than it’s ready for as you let out little whimper.

so he pulls them out, turning you around to face him, and sticks them in your mouth. ‘god, i forgot how pathetic you look with your mouth stuffed’ he watches as you gag on his fingers, taking all the spit that spills out and rubs it all over your face. 

if you thought cheol had been degrading before, well, tonight he was feeling downright mean. tonight, you were his fuck toy and he planned to use you until he was satisfied. 

he’s just about to make you get on your knees when he spots something out of the corner of his eye and smirks, like he’s just thought of something fun. 

your eyes follow him as he walks over to your desk and picks up a marker. a plain innocent marker.

he grabs it, and then your face and in big letters writes WH and RE on either side of your mouth, grinning at his handiwork. ‘open your mouth, slut’ and you do as he spits straight into it. 

‘swallow’ his hand slides down to your throat to feel how it contracts as you drink him up. 

‘and so you don’t forget’ in equally bold letters he scribbles SEUNGCHEOL’S SLUT across your chest. and you just…let him. 

why? because under your skirt, you’re a dripping, throbbing mess. you’d do anything he asked.

‘on your knees’ he orders as you kneel, looking up at him so eagerly. desperate to get his cock out, you start to unbutton his jeans but he pushes your hand away.

‘do it with your mouth’ he smiles, making your stomach churn. you bring your mouth up to his crotch, putting the zip pull in between your teeth and pull down, feeling a sudden wave of humiliation.

it’s humiliation that makes your brain foggy and your heart race.

he laughs at you, pushing your head back and takes his jeans and underwear off, throwing them to the side, his fat cock right in your face.

‘we’re not done today-’ he grips the base of his dick ‘-until you get that you’re my dumb slut into that stupid fucking brain’ and slaps it on your forehead one, two, three times. fuck, there really is something about the sound that puts you in a trance. you feel your eyes grow heavy with lust, your inhibitions lowered.

this is the expression that cheol had been waiting to see again - thoughtless, horny, craving. hmmn, you should see it too, he thinks.

‘give me your phone’ he holds out his hand as you scramble to grab it from the floor where it had fallen earlier and hand it over to him.

he points the camera right in your face, the glare from the flash making your eyes shut. 

‘look at me’ 

this was one of cheol’s favourite things to do - record sluts with his cock down their throat. he didn’t give a shit about the video, he wanted it on your phone, so you could see how fucking depraved you become around his dick.

and god, you look disgustingly depraved as you suck him off, slobbering all over his fat cock. tonight, he doesn’t give you the privilege to breathe as he repeatedly uses your pretty mouth, one hand on the phone, the other grabbing your hair as he moves your head up and down his length.

and suddenly, before you even have time to prepare yourself, he forces his entire cock in, your hand gripping onto his thighs as you feel him push it down your throat.

‘fuck, just like that..’ he groans, watching how your throat bulges with his cock down it, and starts fucking your head into the wall. and he does this over and over until he’s ready to move onto your next hole.

as he finally pulls out, you look up at him, tears running down your face and saliva dribbling down your mouth as you keep your tongue out, waiting for more. you look so incredibly pathetic that he can’t help but smile. 

he tosses your phone on the bed and turns back to you.

‘strip’ and you do; undressing quickly as he watches. he tells you to take everything off but the skirt. no, that he wants to fuck you in.

and then he pulls his t-shirt off - grabbing it from the back to remove it. fuck. you can feel yourself staring but it’s impossible not to when he looks like that.

he’s just so masculine and big and you need him inside you..now. so without a shred of dignity you grab onto his thighs and plead ‘please fuck me..’ and almost too easily, he gives in.

he grabs you by the throat and lifts you up, his face inches away from yours.

‘yeah? you want my fat cock in your tight little cunt?’ yes. yes. yes. you feel like a rag doll as he drags you to the bed, throwing you on it. you love this feeling - the one of being manhandled by him, of feeling powerless in his powerful hands.

‘lay on your back’ he commands and you comply, laying down with your legs at the foot of the bed. 

‘spread’

there’s a split second of hesitation after which you do, your skirt riding up as you spread open your legs for him. he grabs his cock, giving it a few tugs before positioning himself in between your legs. you can feel your heart pounding as you bite your lower lip in anticipation.

‘no.’ a sadistic half-smile spreads across his face.

‘spread your pussy open for me’

it’s like all the shame you hadn’t felt until now rushes in all at once. cheol remembers how much it embarrassed you last time - how vulnerable you looked - and he wants it again. and more.

but you can’t do it. you don’t want him to see just how turned on you are from being treated like trash. you just can’t. so that’s what you mumble to him.

‘you can’t?’ 

he looks at you, his icy gaze making you shiver, and in a pitiless voice says ‘whores can’t say no. do it.’

you really don’t understand the control he has over you because you submit instantly, putting both hands on your puffy lips and spreading open for him, your cheeks stinging with shame.

‘fuck..look at that’ he takes his cock in his hand, slowly stroking it, seeing how wet and swollen your pussy is with arousal. 

‘look how much you love being treated like a whore..’ your toes curl at his words.

as you lay there, exposing yourself, cheol’s strokes get a little faster. he didn’t expect you to be so pliant, so yielding, so..easy to manipulate, and that makes him want to play with you a little more. and not a game you would enjoy.

‘now-’ there’s a pause as you watch him grab the marker he had used to brand you as his earlier and throw it on the bed.

‘-fuck yourself with this and then i’ll fuck you’

he waits, watching you. maybe if you were thinking straight you wouldn’t give in. but you’re not. you’re thinking with your pussy - your pussy that’s aching for attention - which is why you grab it. fuck it, you think, bringing it to your cunt, and sliding it up and down your wet folds before pushing it inside you. 

the thing is cheol was going to fuck you either way but this just makes it so much better.

there’s an amused smile on his face as you start to fuck yourself with it, and the more he watches you, the harder he gets. he licks his lip, his hand back on his cock, stroking himself as you push the marker in and out of you. the way it glistens as it comes out all wet with your juices makes his cock twitch. fuck, you might just be becoming his favourite slut.

little desperate moans spill out as you fuck yourself, going faster now, your nipples hard as you play with yourself in front of him. you’re so shameless and cheol can’t think of anything hotter. 

he leans forward, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulls to make you sit up ‘you’re fucking disgusting..’ and then pushes you back down on the bed. now you’ve earned your fuck.

with one hand pressing down your inner thigh, he takes his cock in the other, and brings it to your core, tapping it against your clit. hard taps. taps that sound obscene as his heavy cock hits your wet cunt. 

and he’s just about to enter you, the head teasing your hole, when you feel this nervous knot in your stomach. he’s huge. 

seungcheol prided himself on his fat cock. he prided himself on that look on a girls face when she first saw it - a look of wonderment with a touch of worry. the same expression with which you were looking at him now.

and that pacifies him. he knows seeing that expression on your face that he’s the biggest you’ve ever had and definitely bigger than mingyu. he also knows you won’t be able to take him in missionary.

‘get on all fours’ he orders as you turn around, clambering to get on all fours like a bitch in heat. he stands behind you, positioning himself with your entrance. 

he takes his cock, sliding the head up and down your slit, his pre-cum mixing in with your wetness. and finally, he pushes inside you, watching as his massive cock disappears into your tiny cunt. 

‘fuck, that’s hot’ he groans, biting down on his lip. 

a faint whimper escapes yours as he penetrates you completely, your hands grabbing onto the sheets. you’ve never felt so full. and now that you know this feeling you’re not sure how you’re going to go back to anything else.

slowly, cheol starts thrusting, his hands gripping the flesh of your hips. with each stroke he pulls out just until the head and then pushes his whole length back into you. the pressure of his thick cock going in and out of you feels so fucking good. so your move your hand to your clit to rub it.

he smiles, amused. it’s cute that you think you’ll be able to touch yourself. nothing he’s doing today is for your pleasure and you shouldn’t forget that.

which is why, without warning, he slams his cock into you as you let out a sudden gasp. he leans forward, grabbing you by the hair and pulling so your back is arched as his thrusts get a less considerate and more selfish - like you’re just a hole that he’s using to make himself cum.

animalistic grunts fall out of cheol’s mouth as he watches your ass bounce with every untamed thrust, his dick reaching parts of you that haven’t been stimulated before. 

it’s mind-numbing, toe curling, and body shaking, and you can’t hear anything apart from cheol’s heavy groans and sound of his skin hitting yours. which is why you don’t even realise your phone is vibrating until a few rings in. fuck. mingyu.

‘is that him?’ cheol asks, his thrusts a little angrier.

‘wait..let m-’ you try to reach for your phone but cheol immediately grabs both your arms, twisting them behind your back, and holds onto your wrists as leverage to fuck you even harder.

‘what the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ he growls, his hand coming down to give you a hard spank as you let out a pained little whimper. you feel your pussy start to throb as the pain radiates through your body.

‘maybe he’ll come in here looking for you…that’ll be fun’ it suddenly dawns on you that you never locked the door. 

even though you and mingyu weren’t dating, he wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to find you getting bent over by some other guy. but it’s just so hard to feel guilty when cheol is stretching you out so good.

‘he should see what a slut you are’ you squeeze around his cock.

‘oh, you like that? fuck..should i tell him to join? stick his cock in your mouth while i fuck you from the back. get a third guy to stuff your ass?’ you groan at the thought.

he pushes your back down to the mattress, pounding into you so hard you feel like you might just snap.

‘but i don’t share my sluts’ he spits down on your face as you moan, your eyes rolling back as he hits the spot over and over. you look so fucking out of it that he knows he’s going to cum.

and before he does, he wants to make sure he’s fucked it into your brain. 

‘look at me’ 

you turn around, barely able to keep your eyes open.

‘whose dumb slut are you?’ his thrusts turning sloppy.

‘i’m your dumb slut’

‘again’

‘i’m your dumb slut’

‘again’

you repeat it a third time, slurring your words.

‘dirty slut’ he pulls out, pushing you flat on the bed and climbs over you until he’s right above your face.

‘stick your tongue out’ he orders, frantically stroking his cock with one hand as he looks down at you - your cheek is pressed against the mattress, the writing on your face all smudged and you look completely mindfucked. perfect.

‘god, you’re such a good slut’ he praises in between breathy moans and with a final grunt he releases his load on your face - thick milky cum splattering over your eyes, hair, cheeks and mouth. 

and just when you think he’s done, more spills out. and as the cum starts to harden on your face, you feel so incredibly dirty. 

there’s a moment of silence as cheol admires how you look and then he finally speaks. 

‘i knew it from the first moment i saw you’

you look back at him, curious.

‘smart girls like you always make the dumbest whores.’

#18+ only #mdni #cheol is mean and NASTY #pls be warned #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups one shot #also sorry mingyu #this is NOT proofread #scoups imagine #scoups drabble #scoups au

[sirfrogsworth]

Last week was crazy.

I honestly can't believe all of it happened in the span of a week. Well, I guess it was more like 10 days. But it was another... Alot.

It all started when I got my disability denial letter. I couldn't wait until I got into the house so I opened the envelope as I walked back from the mailbox. Once I saw the bad part I had an instant panic attack in my driveway.

I ran inside...

Okay, that isn't true.

I walked very quickly inside...

Nope, still not true.

Okay, I walked at my personal top speed which is probably still slow for most people... but the point I'm trying to make is that I was attempting to hurry despite only saving myself about 3 seconds of travel time.

But the hurrying made me feel better, okay?

Out of breath from my geriatric-style powerwalking, I called my lawyer's office immediately. And... he is on vacation. Won't be back until the next Thursday. I spent the entire weekend going through every panic state a body can feel. I go from angry to depressed to anxious to panicked to angry (again) to scared to more scared to extra more scared. Visions of homelessness danced in my head.

I can't sleep for over a day because my brain won't shut off. Finally my body gives out and I fall asleep on the couch watching random YouTube videos. But falling asleep on the couch is bad because I'm not hooked up to my CPAP machine. Then I finally do hook up my CPAP and my damned mask breaks. Thankfully it has happened before and I have a cool hot glue and duct tape solution. But it is hard to manage hot glue and tape when you haven't slept in days and your eyes will barely stay open. So a few burned fingers later, I am sleeping comfortably in my janky duct tape-laden CPAP mask.

Monday rolls around and I decide to go into problem solving mode. Problem solving is my superpower, so I was going to lean into that in an effort to reduce my anxiety. The denial letter said they had no records from before I was 22, so I put on my detective hat and began the hunt to prove I was sick before 2004. My aunt helped me dig through my mom's document drawer. I distinctly remember an essay I wrote to the disability people back when I first got sick. It was part of the paperwork they had me submit. It was a first hand account of my symptoms back in 2001. It also had an essay from my dad talking about how sick I was. I felt like if I could find that, the records surrounding it would all be related and from the same time period.

We go through the entire drawer and only find a few things that might be helpful. Then I realized my mom had a *second* drawer full of documents and my aunt was blocking it. So we start going through that and find a folder labeled "Ben's Disability Stuff." I would have never kept any of that stuff but my mom kept *everything* and it was all in chronological order.

She is still looking out for me.

And she may have kept me from being homeless.

We find the essay and records of my ECT treatments and the names of doctors and all kinds of evidence of my medical woes before 2004. And even if they won't accept it as direct evidence, I can use these documents to show doctors I was their patient. And my primary care doctor said he would be willing to talk to those past doctors to help me convince them to write a letter on my behalf. All they really have to say is they treated me for severe depression and fatigue. And because my mom kept a list of my prescriptions and my ECT treatments, I'm hoping that will be enough to convince them even if they don't remember treating me.

Wednesday I had my monthly checkup. And I got to peek at my main doctor's records from before 2004. It's all handwritten notes and a little hard to read (bad doctor handwriting is the most accurate stereotype in existence). But it clearly says I had depression and was undergoing ECT treatments. It even mentions one of the doctors I want to write me a letter. It's not a lot, but it is first hand, direct medical evidence from that time period. I think it will be very compelling to whoever reviews my case.

I also talked to the nurses/assistants in the office about copying my entire chart, and I thought we were on the same page, but as you will see later... we were not on the same page.

I exit the building and remember how far away I had parked. And once again I forgot to use my cane—even though I keep a spare in the car. The main lot was full and the disabled parking was occupied, so I had to park in the secondary lot. My legs were holding up so far, but it was already a lot of walking for me. Very slow walking.

His office is in the same complex as the hospital. Which is my next stop. It's the same hospital that I have been going to all of my life. And the hospital where both of my parents died.

But I need vintage medical records and that is where they keep them.

Or so I thought.

I drive from the medical office parking lot to the hospital parking lot and only the spots farthest away are empty. And because of goddamn global warming, it is 90 fucking degrees in late September. I park, lock my car, grab my man purse, and start hoofing it to the hospital entrance. I'm so nervous about getting these records that I forgot my damn cane again.

My thoughts are basically, "What if they only keep 7 years of records like everyone else? What if the records from Christian Northwest aren't kept with the records from Christian Northeast? (Christian NW doesn't exist anymore.) What if they won't send them to my lawyer? What if it costs a thousand bucks? What if, what if, what if..."

I get to the front desk and ask the lady where the records department is. She gives me directions that my brain is only capable of half paying attention to. Then I realized I left the records release form from my lawyer in the car. So I walk another half mile in the heat to my car without my cane. And initially, my thought was, "Well, at least I can grab my cane once I get the form." But by the time I got to my car my thought was, "AHHHHHHHHH THAT WAS A LONG FUCKING WALK. KILL ME!"

And so I forgot my cane.

Again.

I get back to the lobby and wave at the lady who gave me directions. I pretend like I remembered and confidently walk in the direction I recall her pointing to. I found the elevator. Thankfully this particular elevator only goes two places. Which seems like a waste of an elevator, but... whatever. I get off on the second floor and am met with a big sign with all the departments and little arrows next to them.

(I'm sure you knew what I was talking about but I'm trying to break up this wall of text with images because I am a professional blogger person.)

I see "Medical Records" and a leftward arrow. I used my keen detective skills to surmise I should probably veer left.

I find myself at the beginning of the world's longest hallway.

Without my cane.

And it is flooded with sterile florescent light and the walls are adorned with the world's most inoffensive art.

Here is a painting of a plant. Here is a painting of a bird. Here is a painting of a bird sitting on a plant. Wait, is that a... WATERFALL??

Suddenly Indiana Jones' voice shouts in my thoughts...

So, if you had to guess, do you think the records department was...

A.) near the beginning of the hallway? B.) in the middle of the hallway? C.) beyond the world's longest hallway in the world's second longest hallway?

As I enter the world's second longest hallway, I notice the art is repeating itself. I've seen that bird sitting on a plant before. I worried I was going in circles, but it turns out they probably just bought the inoffensive art in bulk and weren't concerned about repeats. I get about halfway down the second longest hallway and see a big sign sticking out... "MEDICAL RECORDS."

Note to God: The real world needs a fast travel mode.

I was a big sweaty mess and my legs were like jello. I lumber through the door and find a young woman scrolling through her phone and probably wishing she was anywhere else. She was behind a huge partition with a plexiglass divider—probably still there from COVID days.

I mean, it's still COVID days. But no one is acting like it so I am just pretending it is all over like everyone else seems to.

She notices an out-of-breath Hagrid towering over her and apathetically inquires, "Can I help you?"

I hold up a finger as I try to gain my composure and figure out exactly what I want to say. I usually rehearse this kind of thing beforehand but with all of the anxious thoughts spiraling through my brain, I totally forgot to do that.

"I need to ask questions about records." "What kind of questions?" "Well, how long are the records?" "I'm sorry?" "What year do they start?" "What year do you need?"

I'm suddenly realizing why I rehearse these things. So I take a moment and breathe deeply. I form the proper question in my mind.

"How far back do you keep medical records?" "30 years."

I shoot my hands up like I just scored a touchdown and say, "OH THANK GOD."

She is very confused.

"30 years, oh my god. 30 years just saved my life."

She is still very confused.

"And do you have records from Christian Northwest?" "Yes, we have everything from all Christian hospitals."

I try to give her a brief explanation of my situation and she cuts me off. "Fill out this form."

I look at the clipboard and it is a release form.

Do you remember way back when I walked an extra mile to and from the car to get a release form that my lawyer prepared? Well, turns out they have their own version of that and I walked all that way for nothing.

I finish the form and hand it to the bored, indifferent front desk lady. She tells me someone will be out in a moment. So I sit in the uncomfortable waiting chairs and try to rest a bit. A much tinier young woman walks to the front desk partition thingie and calls out my name. But due to her diminutive stature, she is completely obscured by a pillar and I have no idea where the voice is coming from. We do this little awkward dance on either side of the pillar, attempting to see each other, and finally we both end up on the same side. She starts looking over my form and seemed a little annoyed that I left a section blank. I wasn't sure what kind of records I needed and there was no box that said "everything everywhere all at once."

What I really wanted was any document with my name on it from the beginning of time.

But I was worried about asking for too much labor from this person so I started negotiating for some reason.

I was like, "Well, like, I really need like anything you have from before like 2004. And then maybe, like, some general records after 2004. Like, the pre-2004 records are super important. But, like, I also need to show I was sick all my adult life. So if there are like, summary records? Or, like, something?"

I couldn't stop saying like. I was turning into a Kardashian. Again, some rehearsal was probably warranted.

"I just don't want to be a burden and make you dig up all of my records. I mostly need my ECT records from 2001."

"What is ECT?"

"Shock therapy. It's for depression. I just need to show I was really sick before the age of 22."

"And who is this guy on the form?"

*ramble mode engaged*

"Oh, that is my disability attorney. You see, I'm trying to get a special kind of disability, but I need to prove I was sick before the age of 22. So anything like that before 2004 would be very helpful. But like, if you have less detailed records after 2004 that is good too. Because I may need to prove I've been sick my entire adult life."

*continued rambling until I notice she stopped paying attention*

She did not need to know all of this. And I was not answering the questions she needed answered. I was nervous and babbling and oversharing and I couldn't snap out of it. And I was really concerned if I asked for too much, she was going to be upset. But then she told me all of the records were in a warehouse and she would not actually be finding them for me. She just places an "order" for them. So this weird negotiation thing I was doing to keep her from being annoyed at me was pointless.

And I also realized... this is super important.

I yell at myself, "Ask for everything, stupid! Quit trying to get halfassed records because you're worried about inconveniencing someone."

Finally I just say, "I want every medical record you have from before I was 22 until now."

And she was like, "Sure."

Well... that was easy.

I thanked the tiny lady and the bored lady and exited back into the second longest hallway. My adrenaline was surging. I kept yelling, "30 YEARS!!" in my brain. I had to tell someone this amazing news. I had to tell them right that second or I might burst. So I grab my phone from my man purse and dial Katrina.

The thing is, I only call Katrina when something really bad happens. People don't make phone calls anymore. People text! So when she picked up the phone she answered with a very worried tone. As if somehow a third parent of mine died or something.

"THIRTY YEARS!!!!" "WHAT IS HAPPENING??" "They keep records for 30 years!" "OHHHHHHHHHH!!! That's amazing!"

She probably didn't hop for joy in real life, but in my mind I like to pretend she did. I start explaining everything that just happened and how they most likely have my ECT records and then I realize I am in the middle of the world's second longest hallway and I don't remember which direction leads back to the world's longest hallway. And because I am having unusual and extraordinarily good luck, a medical worker was walking by right at that moment.

"Which way back to the elevator?" "This way!" "Oh great! Thank you!" "Or that way. There are two elevators."

There is that normal luck I recognize.

I can feel the universe realigning itself. But that is okay, because...

THIRTY YEARS, BABY!

I talk to Katrina as I traverse the two longest hallways. Thankfully I was going in the correct direction and found the proper elevator. After a nice chat about various things including problematic 80s movies, we hung up and I decided to treat myself to a hospital cafeteria chicken quesadilla. They are surprisingly delicious and I ate them every single day while my dad was in hospice. Those quesadillas were a single bright spot during one of the hardest times of my life.

So I walk up to the grillmaster and look at the menu.

"Wait, where is the quesadilla?" "We stopped making those two weeks ago."

Universal realignment completed. Luck has returned to its original state.

A male nurse in front of me commiserated. "Yeah, man. I miss them too."

I walked back out to my car both happy and depressed. An odd combination of conflicted feelings. But my day was not over yet. I needed vaccines and groceries. Naturally, I went to the grocery store with the CVS. I got my dad his last booster there, so I was confident they could take care of me. I grab a shopping cart and pick up a few things on the way to the pharmacy. I get in line at the little vaccine check-in spot. The woman in front of me is getting her booster as well. Otherwise, the pharmacy is empty and the three employees are just scrolling through their phones.

After the previous booster seeker was taken care of, I tell the woman I need a booster and a flu vaccine.

"I can give the flu shot now and set an appointment for the booster." "You never required an appointment before." "We just started a few weeks ago." "Can I make an appointment for, like, now?" "No, sorry." "Do you have the booster in stock?" "Yes." "Do you have someone here qualified to give the booster?" "Yes." "Do you have any other appointments right now?" "No."

I tried very hard to keep my composure and remain polite.

"I am disabled. It is very hard for me to get out of the house. Returning another day would be very difficult. Can you please make an exception?"

"I can get you in tomorrow."

I probably should have asked for a manager at this point. But I had no energy for confrontation. She started preparing for me to get the flu shot, but I told her I was going somewhere else. My happy news was quickly being soured by weird rules that made no sense.

But I did see a cool robot.

I got my groceries and loaded them into my car. Some were frozen items so I made sure to turn the A/C on full blast. I called another pharmacy. It was the one run by the Jamaican family who came out to the house to give my parents boosters during the height of COVID. I asked if they could do walk-in vaccinations without an appointment. And in that beautiful accent, they replied, "Sure, come on by. We'll take care of you."

Their shop is in Ferguson. Which I'm sure the news has convinced people is a constant warzone or something. But the main street, West Florrisant, is actually really neat in spots. A lot of small businesses catering to the Black community. There was a soul food place and an African hair braiding place and a Taco Bell. Okay, it wasn't all Black-themed shops, but the pharmacy was directly next to the "Wumzy African Attire" tailoring shop that was combined with the party planning store.

And in the back was an African beauty supply depot.

Three shops in one! Just a very efficient use of space.

And looking through the window of the tailoring shop was like a feast of colors for the eyes. I don't know how they get fabric so bright and colorful. Really beautiful patterns too. I tried not to look like a creep while staring inside so I just walked reeeeeally slow toward the pharmacy entrance.

I just wish people knew that side of Ferguson. It's a beautiful community that was really dragged through the mud by the national media.

I digress.

I walked into the pharmacy and it was long and skinny. They had a few shelves with over-the-counter health products. But the main area was pretty empty. I guess they want to make sure they can accommodate long lines without people having to wait outside. But their working area seemed really cramped. There were some awards on the wall and news articles. Apparently, they are very involved with vaccinating the local refugee community. Something you won't see at pointless appointment-having CVS. I just felt like I was in the right place even if my frozen items were thawing and my legs were buckling from constantly forgetting my cane in the car.

The shop was run by the pharmacist and matriarch. Her son took my information. He looked about 18 and was a bit shy—but very kind and helpful. He directed me to this little partition they set up for vaccinations and they had a liquor bottle full of hand sanitizer. The label had a big "DO NOT DRINK" warning. I found a picture of the exact one on Google.

I washed my hands and rolled up my sleeve. The pharmacist greeted me with my shots prepared. Some people have a sort of magic touch when it comes to giving shots. I'm not sure if it is a special technique or just lots of experience, but aside from a little pressure, I didn't even feel the needles going in. And my arm was only mildly sore despite the double shots.

I really wanted to thank her for sending someone to vaccinate my parents when no one else would. But I was really tired and chickened out. So I just thanked her and drove home.

I unloaded my groceries and collapsed on the couch. I could barely move at that point. Everything hurt.

But... 30 years.

I was feeling good the next day despite everything. My body hurt, but my brain was contented from my success. But there was more to do and everything was trending downhill. I called those doctors mentioned in my personal medical records. I knew it was a long shot, but I asked if they kept records from 2001. They did not. However, I thought the psychiatrist who did my ECT was dead. And it turns out he is just old-as-heck and still practicing. So even though he doesn't have records and probably doesn't remember me, I am hopeful he will write me a letter.

My other psychiatrist from back then is also still practicing. No records there either.

So far my phone anxiety wasn't getting the better of me. But I still had more calls to make and I could feel my brain starting to get melty.

My pocket knife doesn't open correctly and I couldn't get anyone to email me back from SpyderCo. So I called their office in Colorado and tried to get someone to talk to me. I got bounced to three different people and finally a guy told me that model is just hard to open. So that was pointless.

Melt. Melt. Melt.

And finally, I had to call the dreaded CPAP supply place.

It did not go well. At all.

You can read more about it at that link, but the short version is I got angrily sighed at for asking reasonable questions about what the hell "chart notes" are. And the lady refused to answer those questions for no reason I can fathom. She eventually brought me to tears and got angry at me for doing so. And it turned out the call was pointless as well.

Oh, and my lawyer was sick. Remember him? Vacation guy? Who skipped town at the exact moment I got my disability denial letter? Yeah, I had been waiting for 7 grueling, anxiety-filled days to speak with him and he gets sick the day he returns.

Brain is melty goo.

Hey, Universe! I think you are overcorrecting with that luck realignment. I appreciate the 30 years of records thing, but can you let me enjoy it a little?

Friday arrives and I still have calls to make. The CPAP lady really messed up my brain and so just dialing the numbers was freaking me out. But I decided to start with the worst first. I called the CPAP lady and she finally had her precious "chart notes" and put my order through. She was cheerful and helpful and I was confused but thankful.

I thought maybe things were looking up in my phone call adventures.

My next call was to my primary care doctor's office.

One thing you need to know about my doctor is he is a bit of a... hot mess. A very smart, capable doctor. He knows his stuff. I suspect he has an eidetic memory due to his instant recall of medication names and doses and things that happened 8 years ago and detailed descriptions of medical conditions he only heard about in school 40 years ago. Aside from that, he is kind and compassionate and he has my back no matter what.

But he is technologically stuck in the 80s. His personal life is a roller coaster of drama. He once hired his girlfriend of 2 months to work at the office and his regular staff secretly whispered "She's so awful" behind his back. (They broke up soon after.) He is disorganized and constantly running late. And he takes on tons of frustrating patients because they have nowhere else to go. I admire him for treating so many poor elderly folks without any family to take care of them, but you can tell it is extremely challenging at times and a lot of that labor is delegated to his staff.

His office manager is probably the only person on the planet who can tolerate him being a hot mess.

Unfortunately, she is also a hot mess in completely different ways.

She tries to speedrun through everything. It's probably because she has a million things to do and is trying to fit 12 hours of work into an 8 hour workday. I try to be sympathetic and understanding of that. But one of her methods for speeding things along is attempting to use her psychic powers. You will start telling her what you need and she will do this thing where she cuts you off and tries to predict said need.

"I need a prescription for..." "Your thyroid meds are due, right? I'll send it over to the pharmacy." "...insulin. But I have a question about..." "So thyroid and insulin? No problem. I'll send it over." "...increasing my dosage." "Wait, what's yer question, hon?" "Was it 50 units..." "No, it's says 100. Okay? I'll send it over. Take care." "...twice per day or 100 units once in the morning?"

Often her predictions are so bad that it actually takes a lot more time to correct her than it would if she had just let you finish speaking. And this is especially problematic for me because I rehearse everything I need to say and she constantly interrupts and so I have to end up improvising new things to say that I never accounted for. And I'm already anxious and not thinking clearly so I do a poor job of explaining my needs and it just ends up in disaster.

So I have a complicated situation. I need my entire written chart copied and sent to my lawyer. I know it is a lot of work for the office staff. They probably have to copy several hundred pages. But this is probably the most important evidence in my disability case. And my lawyer has already volunteered to pay the several hundred dollars it will cost. It's worth it because if my case goes well, I could get years of back pay.

I call and get the young woman whom I really like on his staff. She is very quiet and unassuming but secretly the star of the office. Like a ninja of competence. If you really need something done properly without mistakes, she is the best one to go to. But her job does not include handling the records, so she transfers me to the office nurse. The office nurse does not process new information well. You often have to explain things several times. And if she gives up trying to understand, she hands you off to the office manager.

The Final Boss, if you will. I was really hoping I could avoid that.

"Okay, so my lawyer needs all of my written records..."

"He needs to fax a form saying what he needs, okay honey?"

"He already faxed a release form asking for records and I brought in a new copy yesterday with all of his mailing information..."

"He didn't fax anything. He needs to tell us what he needs. I'm not seeing any form. Just tell him to call me."

"He is out sick today and he already faxed the form and I brought a second one just in case. I signed it and dated it and I watched Competence Ninja put it in my chart. It asks for everything..."

"Okay, I see it here. This doesn't look right. He needs to tell us what he needs us to send him."

"It says in the letter, 'to release any medical information, including medical records, written letters, treatment reports, testing results, or similar information.' Should it say something different?"

"I've been doing this 20 years and I've never seen anything like this. He needs to be more specific. I ain't sending him all that, hon."

"So, this is for my disability case. I already talked to the nurse about this. And I know it is a lot, but the doctor's records are the only direct evidence that I've been sick since 2001."

"So you just need something from 2001? Okay, the lawyer needs to fax something saying that."

"I need the entire handwritten chart copied and sent to the lawyer. We need a full record of my illness because..."

"This is ridiculous. You're lawyer is fucking lazy. I've never seen anything like this. And I'm worried he is not going to represent your interests."

"This is not a normal disability claim. If you'd allow me to explain I think you'd understand why I need..."

"Disability should already have all this. We shouldn't need to send this. This is fucking ridiculous and you need a new lawyer. You're going to lose your case with his lazy ass."

"This isn't normal disability. I need to prove that I've been sick for a long time and..."

"This is going to cost a fortune, you know? We charge 50 cents per page. You're going to be out hundreds of dollars."

"Okay, but I will be out thousands of dollars if I don't get this copied."

"Fuck it. I am going to copy this ONCE. No more after this. UNDERSTOOD?"

And... she hung up on me.

My heart was beating out of my chest with panic and my eyes were blurry with tears. And in that moment, I thought I had done something wrong. My doctor gave me his personal mobile number so I call him up with tears apparent in my voice. I explain what just happened and that I was really sorry and that I didn't mean to upset her. He told me she is "just like that sometimes" and I shouldn't take it to heart. They have a very serious deadline for something due that day and she was very upset and I was collateral damage. I asked him to apologize for me and he said there was no need. He said we'd work it all out on Monday when this deadline wasn't stressing everyone out.

It wasn't until I calmed down a bit that I realized I did absolutely nothing wrong. That she was just being a big jerk and taking her other problems out on me. And I was probably the one deserving of an apology. I also remembered this is not the first time she has blown up at me. She was the one who tried to make me get a ventilator instead of a proper CPAP machine years ago. She said, "My mom has one and it works fine." And I was like, "So if I travel I'm supposed to take 12 pounds of medical equipment instead of a 1 pound device that fits neatly into a backpack?"

I get why my doctor made excuses for her. She works very hard and puts up with him. He'd never be able to find anyone that would last a week doing that job. And I have a feeling he probably defended me after I called. I played what he said back in my brain and noticed a frustrated tone. Despite what he said, it seems clear he was pissed.

I can make amends and figure things out with her. That isn't an issue. But I am worried that between her and CPAP lady, all of the progress I've made trying to reduce my telephobia was erased. I really was getting better calling people. I used to need Katrina hanging out on Skype while I called anyone as moral support. And while it still helps, I've gotten a lot better at calling strangers on my own. But now, I'm not so sure.

I might ask if there is an office email address I can use from now on. If I can write out what I need there is no way to get interrupted. I can be clear and detailed and use my writing skills to communicate way better than my phone skills.

I don't know.

It was just a crappy way to end a stressful, exhausting week.

But it wasn't the end!

Friday evening my sick lawyer finally called. I had rehearsed all kinds of things I wanted to say to him. But it turns out, all of my emails already did most of the talking—proof that I write a great email. He was really impressed with all of my detective work. And he said if those records pan out, he is very optimistic about my case going forward. He also said that he was expecting a denial. And it was probably good that we got that out of the way quickly. And now we get to mount more of a defense, which is what lawyers are good at. We talked for about 20 minutes and came up with a battle plan. He explained the process going forward. But he mentioned one thing that worried me.

This could take a while.

A lot longer than I was expecting.

I explained that I currently have a runway until about June 2024. That's when the mortgage money runs out. However, my brother should be willing to release my inheritance in March. I hope. I have a hard time trusting anything my brother says anymore. But if he does, then I should have another year of mortgage payments. But I am definitely going to have a Plan B just in case my brother finds a new way to disrespect my father's wishes.

The lawyer said there is a quick thing and a long thing. The quick thing has a low chance of success. But it is worth trying. The long thing is a hearing with a Social Security lawyer. He said a lot of these lawyers are miserable and don't want to be there and don't really care. Which is a good thing because they'll just be like, "Fine, whatever." But it can take a long time to get a hearing due to backlogs.

So, as long as I can gather all the evidence and the hospital records have my ECT stuff, I think there is room for hope. A little hope. After years of chronic illness I know hope is sometimes dangerous. So I allot a tiny bit of hope to keep me going forward, but not enough hope to leave me devastated if things go tits up.

So... umm... I think that is the end of this novel of a post. I feel bad that I don't have a big climax or twist or cliffhanger. Should I add a big CGI dragon fight?

Even though a more down-to-earth kung fu fight with my brother would be a more satisfying conclusion?

Or I could pull an M. Night Shyamalan and reveal that I've been dead for quite some time.

This post is getting really long.

Why are you still reading this?

I am thankful that you are. I just needed to get all of that out. I hope I wrote it in a compelling way and you weren't bored.

I love you all.

#long post #i see dead frogpeople

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🗡️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Fourteen

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: None?

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.8k

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You were standing in front of your trunk of clothes, tapping your nails on your lips while deciding what to wear. Normally, you’d just pull on a pair of trousers and a shirt. But not today. No, today, after being at sea for nearly a month, you were finally setting foot on solid land once more. But that wasn’t what had you so hung up on what you were going to wear either. It was the fact that Shanks was going to take you into town for the day and show you all the best places of the picturesque harbor village, without the other men around.

How he had finagled that when they were crawling up the walls from being at sea so long was beyond your comprehension.

“This is ridiculous,” You finally uttered, pushing your fingers through your brushed hair. It had grown some since you had cut it and in the last week had been put in who knows how many different types of hairstyles by Benn to pass time. You weren’t going to touch it this day, your scalp needing a break… but thinking about your hair wasn’t progressing your clothing decision for the day and you let out a groan of misery. “Do you really think Shanks will care what you wear?”

Of course he wouldn’t but the little voice in the back of your head thought differently.

Then you spotted a delicately wrapped package tucked at the bottom of the trunk and your eyes brightened. That’s right! You had Annie make you a sundress out of lavender fabric for a day when you felt like dressing nice. Moving a few shirts out of the way, you pulled out the wrapped dress and slipped your fingers beneath the little sticker holding the wrapping closed. Without tearing the wrapping, you peeled it back, layer by layer, until the lavender sundress greeted your eyes. Just touching the fabric made you smile.

Decision made, you carefully changed into the sundress and smoothed out nonexistence wrinkles. You hadn’t worn a dress since the day you were supposed to marry Collins. Hadn’t wanted to wear one since then. You hadn’t wanted to look nice period, as that was all your mother preened about. Looking beautiful and elegant.

“Perfection isn’t needed,” You reminded yourself, stepping into the dress and putting your arms into the short sleeves. The material settled on your body as you reached back and searched for the zipper. You found it, but of course, struggled to zip the dress up all the way. Huffing and puffing beneath your breath as your arms tried all sorts of stretches to get the wretched little zipper up. “Oh come now, it’s not like you’re a corset!” You hissed out, shoulder aching from the awkward stretch. With one last tug, the zipped found its place at the top of the dress and you let out a sigh of relief.

Needing help with getting dressed and undressed was a thing of the past.

Looking down at the your dress, you patted down the knee length skirt and appreciated how it moved with your movements rather than restrained it. You had to admit, you spent a few minutes looking at yourself in the mirror entirely pleased with the lack of corset and petticoats. At least you were admiring the dress until Limejuice banged on the cabin door.

“Oi, little lady, Shanks is nipping at our heels! Hurry up and get him off this ship before he starts biting!” Glancing at the door, you rolled your eyes and stepped away from the mirror. Considering that you were going to be on your feet all day, you had decided to wear your good leather walking boots. They hadn’t been so worn down that they would look odd with your dress and you had long since found them quite comfortable. So you put them on and tied the laces in a double knot. When Limejuice banged on the door a second time, you barely spared it a glance while retrieving your sunhat and crossbody bag containing a little Berry, a pen and notebook, and a knife.

“I’m coming,” You called, taking the strap of your bag over your head so it rested comfortably against your hip. “You need to work on your patience!” As Limejuice scoffed at your words, you placed your sunhat on your head and reached for the door handle. Pulling it open, you began chiding him. “If you men had an ounce of patience I am sure you would not get into as many situations as you currently do.”

As you stepped out there were a bunch of grumbles and complaints from the men. You knew that they were patient, not to mention meticulous, but that didn’t stop you from nagging on them like a mother. Limejuice was tossing an orange in the air catching it, leaning against the main cabin with his back to you, while the rest of the men loitered on the main deck doing various things to pass the time.

“Or need I remind you of what happened on the last island we stopped at?” You openly questioned, eying each of the men who refused to look at you. Guilty consciouses you suspected.

“Hey now,” Building Snake complained. “The rat wasn’t our fault!”

“Oh I’m quite sure,” You replied pleasantly, but with words soaked in sarcasm. That made the men finally turn around to argue off your point, but the moment they saw you they froze. For the first time in a month the ship was deathly quiet. Your eyebrow rose and you sighed. “Come now this isn’t the first time you’ve seen me in a dress, you needn’t gawk.”

“I ain’t gawking!”

“Yeah! We’re just appreciating what a beautiful lady we have on board!”

“Color matches your hair quite nicely,”

“Also her eyes,”

“What’s that fabric? Looks so soft…”

“I dunno, one of the fancy ones?”

“Chiffon?”

“No, no, that’s the light one, that one looks silky.”

“Well then what is it?”

“Satin, gotta be satin.”

“And how would you know it’s satin, Luck?” 

“Cause my sheets are made of satin!”

Thus began an argument of which you had no idea what the topic was. You held up a hand to ask because were they really arguing over linens and thread counts, but was intercepted by a hand taking yours. Tugged to the side, your feet scrambled to catch up to Shanks who was sneaking you to the side of the Red Force. You couldn’t help but giggle as the argument behind you persisted, your lack of presence unnoticed. Reaching the railing, Shanks helped you over the side and to the upper dock the Red Force was anchored by. Effortlessly following suit, Shanks followed you down the scaffold ramp to the cobbled harbor.

“Do you wish to explain why the crew are currently arguing over thread counts?” You asked in confusion, turning in place to look back at Shanks. The red haired pirate laughed at your words before grinning.

“Come now, Aria,” He laughed. “I think we both know what our men are like. Do you expect anything else?”

“Well, no,” You agreed before wrinkling your nose. “But thread count? Really? And here I thought I was living with terrifying pirates…”

“Oh you are,” Shanks reinforced, stepping up to you. “Haven’t you heard, we are nothing but a bunch of unwashed vagrants, kidnaping brides while swinging swords at any person who dares cross our path.” A snort passed through your lips before you held your hands in front of you.

“Very well, what will my vagrant escort be doing with me on this day?” You teased in excited anticipation. Shanks eyes glittered and with an exaggerated half bow, offered his hand to you.

“I would hate to spoil the surprise, my lady.” Shanks grinned once more before leading you towards the town.

Shanks was glad to finally have you alone in the town for he had put up with relentless teasing from the crew. Not only had he been at sea for a month, but at sea with a bunch of men who were entirely aware of his affections for you. The teasing had been merciless. So this trip to Kokoro village was a much needed relief as much as it was a chance to spend time with you alone. There were a great many places he could show you on this island: the flower fields, the street markets, all the bakeries he could find… but first you and he were going to a little cafe renowned for its coffee and baked goods.

Yet another first for you he was excited to experience with you.

Taking a seat at a small round table just outside a quaint cafe, you looked around with bright eyes while Shanks took a moment to appreciate your beauty in the morning sun. The light illuminated your hair so it shone like freshly bloomed lavender and your smile brighter. It took effort to remove his eyes from your smiling face when a waitress dropped by with menus. While Shanks was going to order himself a black coffee because he didn’t really need anything more than that, you conversed with the waitress over what type of drink to order.

“I think I’ll go with the mocha you recommended,” You spoke, beaming at the waitress. “Now I just need to figure out what to eat.”

“I’ll go put your drink order in while you decide what to eat,” The waitress said before turning to Shanks.

“Black coffee,” He replied with a thanks while you stared at him with a raised eyebrow and shook your head. “Oh come now, Aria, you know I drink my coffee black.”

“Yes and I also wonder how,” You countered, remembering how awfully bitter your stolen first sip of coffee had been. You had hated it. But after talking with the waitress, you had learned that coffee was a drink that you needed to ease yourself into. She had suggested a mocha, a mix of coffee and hot chocolate. You liked chocolate, so you were willing to try a weakened form of coffee.

“It’s an acquired taste, treasure, it’s also the fastest way to get caffeine in you.” Shanks chuckled before glancing down at the menu. “Now try not to think with your stomach, there is still plenty of other foods to try here.”

He had an excellent point, so you looked at the menu items that were of smaller portions. Oatmeal. Fruit bowl. A bagel. Pastries. A few smaller egg dishes without extra sides. Your eyes settled on a cafe special that you had somewhat fond memories of. On the rare occasions you’d been allowed to have breakfast as a family, the Bonn family cook had always made sure to fix you an extra special breakfast. Smiling in remembrance that you hadn’t truly been alone while living at Bonn Manor, you raised your eyes to Shanks.

He was lounging in the cafe chair, hair ruffled in such a way that made you wonder if he had even bothered to brush it this morning, and eyes trained on the menu in front of him. Sensing your gaze, Shanks raised his hazel eyes to meet your and his heart stopping, lady-killer smile was soon blasting you in full force.

“Decided already?” You blinked and scolded yourself from getting distracted by him.

“Yes, the cafe has a special breakfast dish that the Bonn family cook used to make for me on special occasions.” You explained to him, a fond smile on your face as you rested your elbow on the table, chin in hand. “It’s one of the very few fond memories I have. I look forward to tasting this cafe’s variation, assuming you keep your appetite to yourself.” Shanks snorted at your words.

“Keep my appetite to myself? Madam, I can assure you that I plan on keeping my appetite to myself,” Shanks promised you before adding in a tease. “Mostly.”

“You are the worst,” You scoffed with a roll of your eyes. The teasing never seemed to ended!

“Ah but the best of the worst,” The pirate grinned as the waitress walked back over. He turned his grin to her. “I believe the madam has decided on what she would like.”

“Yes and the madam is requesting a certain gentleman to keep his fingers to himself for the duration of the meal.” You griped before giving the waitress your full attention with a smile. “I would like the breakfast special with a side of fruit, please.” The waitress scribbled on her pad before looking back to Shanks.

“And for the gentleman?”

“I’ll have the waffle stack with a side of scrambled eggs and the sourdough toast, if you would be so kind.” Shanks answered with a flash of his dangerous smile. With a quick word that your drinks would be out soon, the waitress departed.

“What was it that the crew were nagging you about earlier? I could hear them all the way in the main cabin.” You asked in curiosity, remembering the way the men had been hounding him during breakfast. You and Shanks hadn’t eaten of course, you were both saving room for a meal on the island, but the crew still needed to eat.

“Just the men not knowing when to shut up,” Shanks sighed, remembering in painfully exquisite detail how they had all crowded around him and told him not to return to the Red Force unless he finally made a move on you. Blackmail. His own men were blackmailing him! They’d probably remove the gang plank and move the ship to the harbor if needed. Shanks sighed and gave you a reassuring look. “Or keep to themselves.”

You stared at him entirely unconvinced that whatever they had been hounding him about was something to wave off, but didn’t press the subject.

“Very well, you can keep your secrets,” You replied airily. “You are men after all.” Shanks snorted at you, his lips curving at the edge.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” You kept your mouth shut as your mocha and Shanks’ black coffee were dropped off at your tale. Reaching for the delicate loop of your mocha, you ignored Shanks’ heated stare and admired the decorative art on the surface of your drink. Then you took a small sip and hummed as the pleasant flavor of chocolate made the flavor of coffee palatable to you. Perhaps coffee wasn’t as bitter and vile as you thought it to be.

Conversation between you and Shanks turned to what your agenda would be for the day until your food came. You weren’t surprised by the amount of food that came with Shanks’ order and neatly tucked into your own dish. You ate most of what was on your plate, making sure to finish your fruit, before eyeing the plates opposite you. And to think you forgot how much pirates ate. Bottomless pits! You chuckled to yourself while dabbing at your mouth. At least no food on the Red Force ever went to waste.

You turned your gaze to the scenic view and contently sat back in your seat. Had you ever felt more content in your life? No, and to think that if you hadn’t taken that chance to escape you’d have never met Shanks and the crew of the Red Force. Returning your gaze to Shanks, you took a few moments to just take in how handsome he was. 5 o'clock shadow that you wondered how he kept so perfect all the time. Laugh lines that clearly showed he’d led a life full of smiles. Gentle eyes that were always a source of warmth. If you were going to marry, you would want to marry him.

And to think that you couldn’t handle seeing him shirtless two months ago!

“You’re staring,” Shanks chimed in, you were unperturbed at being caught blatantly staring.

“I believe Yasopp calls it appreciating,” You countered airily. “If you will excuse me, I need to visit the ladies room.” Rising from your seat, you stepped away from the table and fluttered your way into the cafe. Rather than head for the ladies room as you had said, you made your way to the cash register where the waitress was helping another customer. You waited for her to finish before stepping up to the counter.

“What can I help you with?”

“I’d like to settle our tab,” You explained with a bright smile. The waitress blinked at you before giving you a matching smile.

“Oh, your gentleman already paid for your breakfast!” Your eye twitched and you forced your smile to remain.

“Oh did he? He’s always so gentlemanly with me.” You said through clenched teeth. You were so going to get him back for that! You returned to the table with a smile plastered on your face as you stewed. Taking your seat, Shanks eyed the stormy look in your eyes. He couldn’t help the sly smirk that stretched across his lips. Releasing the tension in your lips, you finally let out an exasperated breath. “You are allowed to buy me one present during this outing, Shanks. One.”

“So glad we could come to a compromise, treasure,” Shanks replied lightly, flashing you a toothy smile before shooting back the rest of his coffee. “Shall we?”

Date Published: 3/18/24

Last Edit: 3/18/24

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#shanks x you #one piece shanks #red haired shanks #shanks #shanks x reader #opla shanks #one piece

[hoeforhao]

Champagne and Spirits | SEUNGCHEOL FF |

Pairing : seungcheol × fem!reader (ft. joshua)

MINORS DNI! MINORS DNI! MINORS DNI!

⤷ genre: smut (with feelings),slight angst, fluff, jealousy sex, alcohol consumption, explicit language/cursing, scared to love reader, cold but caring for reader seungcheol.

⤷ tags{part 2} : sensual foreplay,rough sex,praise,slight bondage,hair tugging, fingering, pet names, hickeys/marking, body worship, oral (m receiving), size kink, unprotected sex(reader will be starting birth control after),creampie,overstimulation, orgasm denial, aftercare.

⤷ synopsis: seeing the one who has your heart, with other women on a cruise ship, while you're trying to deny your feelings and stay away, is definitely not an ideal situation for a holiday.

⤷ part: 1/2 {part 2}

⤷ word count: 1.1k

⤷ author’s note: This is my first work as well as my first time posting here. I hope you like my absolute shitty writing and if you do...

Likes, comments and reblogs will be really appreciated

"I guess I'm too late" you mumble to yourself, as your eyes are fixated on the tall, dark haired and beady eyed man infront of you ; looking like he's having the best time of his life with a woman who looks equally as heavenly as him.

You met Seungcheol for the first time at Fluffball Daycare & Veterinary, 7 months ago when you took Ms Carrot for a daily checkup at the clinic. It would be a lie to say you weren't completely smitten by his big sunshine smile and glistening doe eyes while he played with your small yet feisty black cat. Word had it that Mr Choi was the best pet surgeon in the entire town and so it was quite natural for you to take Carrot to him, as soon as her breathing troubles started getting worse.

After a series of tests,it was revealed that your most loved being, your cat, had stage 1 Nasal Cavity Cancer, which was fortunately curable by surgery. Thus, for the next 2 weeks you had to make frequent visits to the clinic to get all the papers ready as well as prep Ms Carrot.

After the successful surgery, Seungcheol suggested that for Carrot to heal fast, he needs to visit your place everyday to look after her condition and control the medications. For an introvert like you, it was quite a task to let someone invade your space daily, but your baby mattered to you the most. Also as if you weren't highly attracted to Mr Choi!!!!!

The next 4 months was like a potion of serene bliss mixed with a sinful curse. As your closeness to Cheol started increasing through the visits, you felt yourself in a turmoil trying not to break the rock hard wall created around your heart ; But can you blame yourself? The way he takes care of you along with your cat, never overstepped your boundaries, always checking up on you in the middle of the night to ensure you've slept or not,complementing you at every glance he takes in of you, making you turn into a blushing mess everytime he's around...HOW CAN SOMEONE NOT POSSIBLY FALL FOR HIM? Day by day you feel the condition worsen as you're inexplicably drawn even closer to him, but you knew you had to stop yourself....FOR CHEOL'S GOOD!

And finally after all those months of serenity and happiness, the day you've been dreading throughout this period was finally here ; it was his last visit for Carrot to your house, and as you two stand across the door, hearts beating in unison at the rate of a storm, your mind clouded with all the messed up thoughts : Seungcheol looks up at you, his glistening eyes piercing daggers into your soul, as if looking for an answer. Oblivious of his stares, you bid him goodbye with a heavy heart, making yourself understand that the best option is to let him go.

That day, you were so consumed in your thoughts that you failed to see the older's teary eyes while he shakily spoke "Bye Y/n. I'll always keep the time spent with you and Carrot close to my heart. Only if I had the luck to keep you close to me and my heart too". He whispered the last line, so you could only hear some mumbles.

While you were reminiscing all these memories with him, you didn't realize that a gazillion of judgy eyes were staring at you from various corners as you stood in the midst of the reception, face completely stained with tears.

"I need to get out of here fast, before anyone sees me like this ,specially him" you mumble to yourself as you impulsively lift your heels to head towards deck 4, where your room was... completely forgetting the fact that you're not an evening gown and stilletos person.

And what's the aftermath of your stupidity? Not even five steps down, and you tumble upon your own dress's slit, closing your eyes and waiting for the marble to hit you into unconsciousness.

"Why don't I feel any pain? Am I dead? Is this heaven? Nah no way I'll be allowed in heaven with such an unholy mind .But why do I hear the loud chatterings tho. Did I go numb from the impact?" you start questioning yourself, not noticing the pair of cold hands on your bare back(you had the audacity to wear a backless champagne dress being such a noob), strongly holding you from the fall.

Coming out of the trance, you slowly open your eyes and bring them up to look at the man that was now holding you pressed against his hard defined chest. A sudden wave of sparks rushed through your entire system as you steadily took in his features; satin soft black hair adorning his forehead, almond shaped eyes that shone as bright as a star and his distinctive smile, capable of making anyone fall head over heels in an instant.

"It's rude to keep staring at someone like that you know, right Ms?" A soft angelic voice cooed in your ears, pulling you out of the daydream.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to stare at you like that" you blurt out almost instantly, looking down with red flushed cheeks.

"It's fine. I'm used to such flustered gazes." The man spoke with a sheepish smirk.

"Thank you so much for saving me. I would've ripped my dress if it hadn't been for you."

"I'm afraid that just a thank you won't be a fair price for saving such a beautiful gown. Don't you think so yourself Ms?"he asked with a raised eyebrow.

You've always been of the overly courteous type, so the demand of the man infront of you, seemed quite justified.

"Tell me how can i repay your kindness, Mr?" you emphasized on the Mr with a questioning tone, in order to let him know that you were interested in knowing his name.

"It's Joshua Hong. But you can call me Josh." he answered promptly, resting your curiosity. "How 'bout you buy me a drink from the counter and we sit over for a small pretty conversation about how you ended up crying in such a loud party?"

Your cheeks again flushed bright crimson red, but this time from embarrassment, now that he mentioned the crying part. Not being able to form words anymore, you just hummed in response while he snaked his arms around your waist and escorted you to the bar.

Little did you know, a shroud pair of eyes was keeping a watch on you from the very beginning and taking in your each and every move made with Joshua.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #seventeen #seungcheol fanfic #svt smut #scoups #svtcreations #fanfic #choi seungcheol #svt seungcheol #seungcheol angst #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol au #seventeen smut #joshua #cheolsoo #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x oc #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #scoups x oc #scoups x y/n #scoups x you #scoups x reader

[collecting-stories]

When Emma Falls In Love - Remus Lupin

A/N: I totally didn’t intend to make this as long as it is (6k+), it sort of got away from me while I was writing. Despite the title and the lyric, the reader is gender neutral.

Summary: Remus and the reader take a trip to Hogsmeade after Christmas break. Marauder’s era cause I'm a sucker for that whole time period.

TS Anthology Masterlist | Harry Potter Masterlist

…turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand…

“What’s this?” Remus asked, long fingers smoothing over the newspaper that concealed the object you’d handed him. The funnies, he noticed, eyeing up Hogan’s Alley with a nostalgic grin. “How long have you had this newspaper, by the way?”

“A gift for you, obviously,” you replied, tugging the bow on top of the rectangular package. “Are you going to open it?”

“I’m reading,” he teased, tilting his head to see the underside of the package and the conclusion of the Hogan’s Alley comic strip.

“Remus!” You laughed, “you absolute mong, open the package!”

“Alright, alright,” he slipped a finger into the folded edge and tore the paper away from itself, beginning to reveal what you had wrapped inside weeks ago. You’d been waiting for winter break to be over and a good excuse to give Remus the christmas present you’d bought him while you’d been home.

You’d heard him earlier, recalling some story of debauchery that the marauders had gotten up to while at James’ for winter break and you’d listened in shamelessly, minorly jealous that they got to see so much of Remus and you were confined to shared classes and passing in the hallway. You were friends of course, be odd to give a stranger a present, but only school friends. The sort of friends who work on homework together if they happen upon one another in the library. Who chat about the turn in the weather, a particularly difficult assignment, or plans for hogsmeade (plans that never include the other person, of course). You wanted to be more than friends and you had been hoping he’d get the hint since fifth year but he was either extremely stupid (which you knew he wasn’t) or he didn’t like you back and didn’t want to embarrass you. Which was perfectly alright because you were pretty hellbent on embarrassing yourself with no help from outsiders.

“I saw it in a bookshop near my house,” you explained as Remus stared down at the cover of Arsene Lupin by Maurice LeBlanc. “I thought of you.”

“Because his last name is Lupin?” He inquired, holding the book up against his chest, front cover facing you.

“No,” you replied, “because he’s a gentleman thief and master of disguise.”

Remus burst into laughter, clutching the book tighter to himself. The newspaper and bow had fallen to the ground and he stepped back, accidentally crumpling the paper further. “Brilliant.” He sighed, looking at the cover again, “thank you…I don’t have anything for you, I’m afraid.”

“Oh no, it’s alright. I just saw it and thought you might enjoy reading it…I’ve only read the first two myself but I do love them quite a bit.” You explained, trying to sound nonchalant about the present. You’d spent the entire two weeks at home mulling over whether you should buy it, whether it was something he’d like, whether it was appropriate to even give him a gift, and then, when to give it to him.

“Well, thank you,” Remus stepped back further, off the newspaper, and bent to pick it up off the floor of the hallway.

“I can toss that in the bin for you,” You mentioned, reaching a hand out for the rumpled paper.

Remus shook his head, tucking the book between his arm and his side, and began to smooth the paper out and fold it. “Oh no, I quite like the funnies. I’ll enjoy reading them. You can have the bow, however.” He peeled the red bow from the top of the folded newspaper and pressed it against your head, the tape sticking to your hair.

“How does it look?” You joked, reaching up to rub a finger against the velvety ribbon. You’d tied and untied the bow nearly five times before you were happy with it.

“Supreme,” Remus replied, “say, are you going to Hogsmeade on Saturday?”

“Probably, I’ve promised mum taffy from Honeydukes.” You had gifted her some for christmas and it was already gone.

“Ah, perfect. We’ll go together, as my present to you, what do you say?”

“You really don’t have to change your plans around for me,” you replied. It wasn’t so much that Remus had concrete plans, just that everyone knew he spent his Hogsmeade days with the rest of the marauders.

“No change,” Remus promised, glancing down at the folded newspaper and licking his lips, “in fact you’d be doing me a favor. Sirius and James have detention, and Peter’s…busy.”

“If you’re sure,” you began.

“Absolutely,” he lied. They’d only been back to school a week, too short for detention, or at least in this one instance they had seemed to keep their noses out of trouble. He was sure they’d fudge a detention for the greater good, or at least for him getting a date. Though probably it didn’t sound like a date.

“Of course it doesn’t sound like a date Moony, you said ‘let me take you to Hogsmeade as a gift because I was an oblivious twat and didn’t get you anything and I feel bad but also I’ve got no one to go with, which is a lie, so come to Hogsmeade with me?’ when you should’ve just asked them to Hogsmeade properly.” Sirius remarked around a mouthful of chocolate orange.

“It scares me to say this, but I agree with Padfoot,” James replied, sprawled across his bed in the dorm, looking over at Remus with a concerned expression. As if he didn’t always agree with Sirius about everything.

“I’m sure James,” Remus said, his gaze wavering, wandering back to the book that sat on his nightstand. Arsène Lupin looked up at him, gold foil embellishments and silhouetted profile begging to be read. He ran his fingers over the cover as he picked it up, imagining briefly what it might’ve been like to have seen you over break. To have wandered together into a little bookshop in Cambridge, searching through titles and reading aloud bits of summaries that intrigued you. He thought of getting tea, or coffee as he knew you preferred, somewhere quaint and quiet where you could sit at a corner table and whisper with each other.

A real date, not some fallacy.

“Are you off in your own head there Remus?” Sirius asked, eyeing his friend suspiciously. “Don’t go too far honey, you tend to ruin your daydreams before you can romanticise them.”

“I’m not doing that,” Remus huffed, reaching for the curtain on his bed, “you’ll steer clear of Hogsmeade this weekend, swear it?”

“Swear it,” Peter piped up first, looking to James and Sirius for confirmation that they were, actually, going to leave Remus’ plan unscathed.

“Of course,” Sirius’ voice sounded sickly sweet as he smiled, “swear it.”

“Me too,” James replied, a side glance at Sirius ensuring that they were both thinking the same thing. There would be no keeping their promise.

Remus pulled the curtain closed, settling into his blankets and enchanting the light on his wand so that he could read. He read eagerly, devouring the story, or at least as much of it as he could before he felt himself falling asleep. He knew it was probably a bit crazy on his end but he wanted to finish the book before the weekend so he could discuss it with you.

By Friday afternoon he’d selected a whole list of topics and written them out on a piece of parchment, testing the ones he thought might have the best result on Sirius and James (though they were unsurprisingly not helpful).

“Is Herbology an especially favourable subject?” Sirius asked, looking over the parchment as Remus scribbled a note in the corner about muggle books you might’ve read.

“No, actually, I think they were failing until last year…” Remus replied, looking at the word scrawled across the page in his usual neat cursive.

“Perhaps not a good subject then, eh?” Peter asked, straining to see the list.

“True.” Remus scratched it off and looked through the rest of them, “any ideas?”

“Tell them you fancy ‘em and want to snog their face off.”

“Has that worked for you James? Ever?”

“Actually…no.” James frowned, “sorry mate, I’ve got nothing I’m afraid. Quite new to this relationship business myself.”

Remus groaned, not close to being in the mood to hear his friend drone on about Lily Evans when he was meant to be helping. “Let’s stay on task, shall we Prongs?”

“Alright, alright…what about…why are these all school subjects Remus? Surely they don’t want to walk around Hogsmeade talking about classes all afternoon.” James said, plucking the pen from Remus’s fingers and crossing off anything that resembled a school subject. He left muggle books, the only category not related to Hogwarts directly.

“Sad list,” Sirius admitted, clapping Remus on the shoulder.

“I realize that,” he snatched the pen back from James and crumpled the list. “I just want to have a nice afternoon.”

“And you will.” Sirius assured, “they’re absolutely mad about you honey, it’s obvious. Embarrassingly so.”

“Compliment them, it always works for me,” James offered, reaching into his pocket for the leftover candies Peter had brought from home. They were softer than they were meant to be because of the time spent in the pocket of James’ corduroy trousers but no less delicious.

“Has it always worked for you?” Remus levelled, taking a lolly from James’ outstretched palm and peeling away the red and yellow wrapper.

“It eventually worked for him,” Sirius replied.

“Exactly, thanks mate.” James nodded to him.

“Anytime.”

“If you two are done,” Remus interrupted, “perhaps we could get back on track.”

“You don’t need our help Moony,” Sirius assured, ruffling his hair, “you’re a catch, honest. They’d be lucky to get a moment alone with you!” He grabbed Remus’s cheeks in his hand without warning, turning his head as if to show James and Peter, “look at him, regular model face, that is.”

“Get off me Sirius!” Remus huffed, swatting away his friend’s hand.

He crumpled the piece of parchment he’d been writing the list on into a tight ball before tossing it away. It rolled off to a corner, stopping at the edge of a bookcase.

“Looks like your quidditch arm is out of practice there hon,” Sirius teased, sitting down beside Remus.

“None of you are helpful, I hope you’re aware of that?” He replied beginning to gather all of his papers and books together to put in his bag.

“Leaving us?” James asked, chewing on a particularly gummy piece of the taffy lolly.

“I am,” Remus replied.

“Oh come off it Moony, don’t be a sourpuss,” Peter said, earning an approving nod from Sirius.

“How do you expect us to help Moons?” Sirius asked, laying a hand over Remus’ bag to stop him from leaving, “you’re friends with ‘em. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we all love ‘em and think the two of you would make a lovely pair-“

“Brilliant, really,” James piped in.

“Exactly Prongs, but you’ll know what to say better than us. Just don’t overthink it, alright? Any other day with them, yeah.”

“It’s not any other day though Sirius.” Remus sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“You see them in Hogmeade plenty.” He argued, which was technically true.

Remus had run into you plenty of times in Honeydukes or at the Three Broomsticks. On occasion, more in fifth year and then hardly in sixth and now never in seventh, you’d ask if he might want to get a butterbeer with you but he always declined because he was with James, Sirius, and Peter. It was unfortunate and he wished everytime that he just put aside whatever niggling self-doubt existed in the back of his head because he really could be quite charming when he wanted to be (when there were no strings attached…or feelings, more accurately).

“Getting in your head again honey?” Sirius asked, drawing him out of a daydream. A rather bleak one, as it stood.

Remus hummed, “You think it’ll be alright?”

“I’ve never known you to worry this much over a date,” James replied, “what about that bird you went out with over christmas?”

“Exactly my point James,” Remus replied, “I tend to avoid going on dates with people who matter a great deal to me. It’s let’s messy that way, but it’s given me zero training in what I ought to do on a real date.”

“What about all the dates we’ve been on?” Sirius posed and Remus shoved him gently.

“We’ve not been on dates you mong,” he replied.

“That’s truly hurtful hon, can’t believe you would wound me that way when I’m here offering you support in your great hour of need.” Sirius teased.

Remus rolled his eyes at his best friend, finally pushing his chair back and standing up, “I’m heading back to the common room.”

“To wallow in your bunk Moony?” James called, earning and immediate shushing from Madam Pince.

Remus paused monetarily to offer James his middle finger in reply before making his way out of the library. The corridors were empty all the way back to the gryffindor common room and Remus spent the walk trying to rehearse talking points with himself in his head. As much as his friends drove him mad with their advice, he knew they were half-right and fully looking out for him. He just needed to calm down his brain, it was you after all. His darling study partner and an absolute vision in yellow.

You wore a lot of yellow; even Peter had commented on it once in the library (“you wear an awful lot of yellow” “yes, well, I am a Hufflepuff”) but Remus thought of it more like Marigold. Like a flower sprouting up to reach the golden rays of the sun, Remus felt the warmth of the color radiating off of you every time he was near.

It was no surprise then that you turned up in yellow on the morning of Hogsmeade. Black doc martens inherited from your father, yellow corduroy pants and a striped sweater that looked soft and felt softer when he hugged you.

“You look very excited this morning,” you mentioned in a teasing tone, smiling at him.

“Do I?” He asked, looking down at himself as though his excitement was a coat he could simply shed himself of.

“For someone who didn’t have anyone to go to Hogsmeade with,” you replied, “you’re very cheerful.”

“Well, not no one,” Remus insisted, “we’re going together.”

You smiled, tilting your head back as if you were turning your chin to the sun. “That we are,” you agreed.

As other students gathered in the courtyard began to depart for the long trek to Hogsmeade, Remus held his arm up, bent at the elbow, as if presenting it to you. The gesture was an inside joke that probably wasn’t truly funny and that neither of you could accurately recall the origin of but you laughter all the same. You took his arm, fingers pressing into the fabric of his plaid blazer, and allowed him to begin the journey. Mostly it was an enjoyable silence, you didn’t feel any pressure to fill the space (and you almost always felt pressure to fill empty air with some rambling assortment of nonsense) and Remus let his daydreams be far more romantic in nature than he usually allowed.

Remus was a bit of a cynic, more than a bit if any of his friends were queried on the topic, though he was wont to blame his lycanthropy for that less charming quality. Whether he would’ve been prone to cynicism without the affliction or not, Sirius was right. He did tend to let himself talk circles around any good thought that passed through his head until it became absolutely, unbearably, negative.

“Are you having a conversation with yourself there?” You asked, drawing his attention to you. The both of you had passed into Hogsmeade and when you’d begun asking which shop he’d most like to go in you’d realized he wasn’t paying the least bit of attention.

Remus hummed in reply and then shook his head as his brain caught up with the question you’d asked him, “no, sorry. James tells me I’m prone to daydreaming though I don’t often realize I’m doing it, I suppose he’s right.”

“There’s nothing I love more than a good daydream,” you replied, “Did I ever tell you, I zoned out on Alice’s hat when I was being sorted…imagined myself unraveling the whole horrid thing and fashioning it into a cute little top, I’m quite the crocheter, if you don’t know, and the sorting hat thought it was a trip…stuck me in Hufflepuff over the whole thing. Said I had too much going on between my ears,” you laughed as you finished the story and Remus couldn’t help smiling at you.

It was a nonsensical story but it had seemed to ease the tension in his bones, relaxing him enough to let him banish the niggling cynicism that made a home in his head.

“Are you positive it didn’t say Ravenclaw and you misheard, being so distracted as you were?” He asked.

You huffed out a laugh, “I heard correctly! Surely if I hadn’t someone might’ve mentioned it.”

Remus hummed in response as if he was weighing the validity of your argument, “I suppose.”

“I should crochet you something, it probably would’ve made a nicer gift than a silly book,” you mentioned, changing the subject, already thinking how nice Remus would look in a wool sweater. Maybe a maroon or a deep brown, he seemed to always be in earth tones and mismatched plaids.

“I quite like the book, actually,” Remus replied. He’d finished it within the three days between when you’d gifted it him and today. He wanted to be sure he cloud talk to you about and was thrilled to find that he throughly enjoyed the story (and his namesake, though Arséne sounded much classier than Remus).

“Have you started it?” You asked, passed beneath his arm as he held the door open to the Three Broomsticks. As he followed you in he caught sight of Rosemerta, watching him with a smirk as though she knew something he didn’t. Or perhaps she was more insightful than he gave her credit for and she could tell from across the crowded tavern that he was bumbling his way through a first date, hoping that you thought it was a first day to.

“Yes, I started it the other night, really very good,” he replied, taking a window spot.

You sat on the stool beside him, eyebrows pulling together as you looked out the window, your expression half way between surprise and confusion.

“Something wrong?” Remus asked, looking out the window himself but seeing only some younger students he wasn’t familiar with.

“No,” you shook your head, “just thought I saw…can’t be though. Anyway,” you changed the topic quickly, “I tried making butterbeer at home over the holiday but it turned out rather poorly.”

“I’ve never tried making it…don’t think it’s crossed my mind,” Remus replied. He turned in his stool, “just realized I’ve to get the drinks,” he slid off his seat and headed over to the bar to order.

You looked out the window again as he weaved his way through the crowd. Outside, against the backdrop of the snow you thought you saw something, blinking away the image at first and then…you realized you weren’t seeing things at all. Sirius was standing there, looking as if he didn’t know quite how he was visible to you but he recovered quickly, offering a wave and a wink. You waved back and then he pressed his finger to his lips before pointing over your shoulder and you understood the silent request. Don’t tell Remus. You smiled and nodded and then, practically before your own eyes the boy seemed to disappear.

“Here we are,” Remus set the butterbeer in front of you and resumed his spot. “How was your holiday? I don’t think I properly inquired before.”

“It was alright,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink, “my sister’s had the baby, so everyone was in a state over it. You would’ve thought it funny, the little devil puked all down the front of my party outfit on Christmas Eve!”

“Did he really?” Remus hid his mouth behind his glass, taking a somewhat stunted drink as he tried not to laugh at your misfortune.

You nodded in reply, unable to contain your own quiet laughter. “It was quite becoming too, my party outfit. Sirius owled me about coming to a Christmas party, which I was really very surprised by, and I’d picked it out just for the occasion.”

The flush that Remus had felt on his cheeks colored his neck and ears at the thought of Sirius inviting you to their Christmas party. His best friend had been particularly rowdy that evening and Remus had suspected that he’d had something up his sleeve but nothing had ever come of it. Now he knew; Sirius had been trying to get him to “make a move” on you since fifth year, when he’d first caught wind of Remus’ crush. Or infatuation perhaps.

“I’m sure it was lovely,” Remus replied, trying to fit you into what he thought you might wear to a fancy dress party. Something golden and soft and glittery, if he was asked to bet money on his assumptions.

“It really was!” You exclaimed, “I tried a spell to clean it off but i’m rubbish at household magic and ended up melting it! I looked like I was wearing a baby’s bib after they’ve thrown up on it!”

Remus laughed at the image your words produced, taking the final sip of his butterbeer, “I didn’t know you were planning on coming to the party, mishap aside I would have loved to see you there.”

Your heart swelled at his use of the word “loved” and you smiled, “Well my night was just as chaotic, I’m sure. Do you mind popping in to Honeydukes? I don’t want to keep you.”

“I wouldn’t mind it.” Remus muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop himself.

“Sorry?” You had busied yourself with pulling your coat back on and looked up in confusion, having not fully heard him over the commotion of the tavern.

“Oh, I was just uh…I have plenty of time. All day really.” He insisted, standing himself and taking his hat off the table so he could follow you back out to the village street.

“Damn!” You stopped suddenly, recalling with all the annoyance of someone who had forgotten something vital to their daily life that you had left your second present for Remus in the refrigerator at home.

“Are you alright?”

“I’d forgotten, because of baby Lucifer…not his real name ‘course…I made a batch of fudge for you. I was going to sneak it to you at the party but I obviously did not attend and so it’s sitting in the fridge at home.” You replied, already thinking of what you would say in an owl home to your mother.

“That’s alright, honest,” Remus replied, laying a hand gently on the back of your coat. The pressure of his touch seemed to get you moving again. “Wait, why would you need to sneak it to me?” He asked, his mind catching up to the entirety of your situation.

“Well, Sirius invited me to the party, as I’ve said, and he said you’d be there, very specifically too, and so I made you the fudge…this was before I saw the book of course…but I didn’t make anything for anyone else. I hate people feeling left out, naturally, but it didn’t even occur to me until I was getting ready to come over. And then, of course, I suppose it worked out because my sister handed me Fredagar, that’s his real name by the way…a doozy if you ask me…and well, you know the rest.” You replied, “I was looking forward to going though, I thought about owning you over the holiday but I didn’t want to seem like that nagging friend who didn’t know the boundaries of their friendship, you know?”

“You could never,” Remus replied, “I’d like to think there are very few boundaries on our friendship, if any.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” you said, plucking a cellophane bag of taffy off the shelf in Honeydukes for your mum, “I’m not completely clueless though Remus, I know you’ve got a couple secrets up your sleeve.”

Despite the smile when you said it, Remus felt the flush that had been staining his cheeks rush away as he paled. He looked almost nervous, you thought, far more serious than you’d intended. You had a few ideas about what his secret might be, and you knew he had one, but you would never wager a guess out loud. His business was his and if he wanted to share, when he wanted to share, you knew he would.

“Sorry,” you apologized, taking his hand in yours and giving a squeeze of reassurance, “I didn’t mean to upset you Remus, I was only teasing.”

“Of course,” he nodded, squeezing your hand back. “I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t think anything of it,” you replied, “now, tell me how your holiday was? Did you lot get into any trouble?”

Remus tried to refocus, shaking his head gently to clear his thoughts, “With Sirius and James?” He reached for the candy in your hand, “here, let me get this for you.”

“Oh no, you got the butterbeers,” you replied, “besides the taffy is for my mum. I’m only getting the sherbet lemons and the chocolate frog. Hoping it’s not Dumbledore again, got a load of him.”

“James’ got a whole shoebox full of Dumbledores,” Remus replied, “Sometimes he lines them all up and watches him go back and forth between them all.”

You laughed at the thought of James sprawled out with his wizard cards, staring at Dumbledore passing through them. “Sounds like him.” You replied. “No, Remus, really-“

“I insist,” he placed the candies on the counter with his and then realized he’d need his other hand, “sorry I-“

“Oh, gosh, sorry…didn’t even realize I was still hanging on to you.” You let go, crossing your arms and looking around the shop while he paid.

“It’s alright,” Remus took the bag of sweets from the lady behind the counter and then reached over, deciding that maybe a bold move would be the right one, and took your hand again. “Do you want to walk a bit? Maybe?”

“Sounds good,” you agreed, letting Remus lead you back out onto the streets and through Hogsmeade.

The companionable silence from before seemed to fall over the two of you as you made your way around the small village. Remus let himself focus on the feeling of holding your hand in his and not the nerves that were still eating at him from your earlier comment. If he thought too hard on it he’d follow his own rabbit hole to the conclusion that you had figured him out and though you were still very obviously right here beside him, your motivations for wanting to be his friend if you knew were murky at best. He knew he was catastrophizing, even if he didn’t intend to, and that was probably why he didn’t realise exactly where he was until you finally spoke up.

“My sister used to tell me she would lock me in there when she was still at Hogwarts.”

Remus looked up in confusion, the Shrieking Shack standing a few meters away behind an old rickety fence.

“The shrieking shack,” he said, just for good measure.

“What do you think of it?” You asked.

“What do you mean?” His grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly and he looked as uneasy as he had back in Honeydukes.

“Oh, just like, do you really think some murderous hermit lives there? That’s what my sister used to tell me, that he built the house on the bones of his victims and that it was their screams you could hear on the anniversaries of their death.” You replied, gravely. Just as quickly you smiled, “or something like that.”

“I’ve heard a different one then,” Remus laughed.

“Have you? Suppose it’s not a murderer then. That’s a relief.” You replied.

“I should tell you,” Remus began, clearing his throat, trying to calm his nerves. “I uh, well, Sirius and James didn’t actually have detention today. And Peter wasn’t busy either, I sort of…well I wanted to come to Hogsmeade with you and I didn’t know or I was too nervous to ask.”

You bit your bottom lip to stop the smile that was threatening to spread. “I sort of, guessed about the Sirius and James bit. Not that I knew you were lying just to go out with me, if that is what your saying-“

“It is. It…how did you know about James and Sirius?” He asked, perplexed.

“I think they might’ve been following us, I saw Sirius outside of The Three Broomsticks,” you replied.

Remus looked around quickly, as if he could somehow see them, hiding out in the open, when it was just the two of you. “You swore you’d stay out of Hogsmeade!” He called to the empty space around you.

And despite Sirius and James appearing seemingly out of thin air you only felt mildly surprised to see them both. “Did your sister really name her son Fredagar?” Sirius asked as he ran a hand through his hair and straightened his jacket.

Remus looked absolutely peeved, though you weren’t sure if it was because they broken their promise or because they’d been following the two of you around Hogsmeade all afternoon. “Oh, come off it Moony, we would’ve closed our eyes if you two started snogging.” James said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

You chose to ignore him and focus on Sirius instead, “afraid so. According to her husband it’s a family name.”

Remus still looked bother and perhaps now a touch embarrassed, the red coming back to his cheeks in full force. He let go of your hand in favor of crossing his arms, looking about the clearing as though someone else might be there as well.

“Peter didn’t come, the spoilsport said ‘we promised Remus we’d stay behind’.” Sirius answered the unspoken question, pitching his voice higher to sound like Peter.

“At least one of my friends actually listens to me.” Remus huffed.

“It’s alright, really,” you promised.

“See, they aren’t bothered,” Sirius pointed out, “can’t believe you weren’t going ti give Jamesy and me a present though. Really gutted over that one. You don’t even know how you’ve wounded me.”

“You’ll get over it, I’m sure.”

“Never. Take it to my grave is what I’ll do.” Sirius joked, clutching at his heart dramatically, “it’s betrayal really, I thought I was your favorite.”

“My favorite what? Pain in the ass?” You laughed.

“And the hits just keep coming!”

James smacked Sirius’ arm, “it’s alright, we all know who your favorite is.” He looked over at Remus, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Christ, can’t you two find something else to do?” Remus asked, “where’s Lily?”

“She said something about someone breaking up with somebody else and having a nice Hogsmeade trip to mend them up…can’t remember specifics.” James replied.

“Good to know you listen to your girlfriend.” Remus snarked.

“I do listen! It’s just that we were making out and she always tells me things when we’re in the middle of it and then I can’t remember what it is she said.”

“Maybe that’s why she does it,” you pointed out, “to see if you’re paying attention.”

“I am!” He insisted, “to her!”

“Let’s just go back,” Remus tried, gesturing for James and Sirius to go ahead.

Sirius looked surprised at the suggestion though, a devilish smile coming to his face as he looked passed Remus to the shrieking shack. “We wanted to check your theory,” he said, looking over at you, “about the murderer in the shack.”

“Sirius!” Remus snapped, the scarlet of his cheeks suddenly giving him a furious look. He was no longer feeling embarrassed or annoyed or even smitten as he had been in The Three Broomsticks. This Remus was pissed off.

“It’ll be fun,” Sirius insisted. He and James were excitable and charming when they wanted to be but sometimes they were downright cads. No regard for anyone’s feelings and taking jokes just over the line until they weren’t funny anymore.

“I think I’d rather just go back to Hogwarts,” you replied, worrying your bottom lip as you glanced over at Remus. He wouldn’t meet your eyes though.

“Just a minute or two, like a dare,” James teased, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you toward the break in the fence where others had clearly manipulated the wire to get in.

“I think-“

“You two are assholes sometimes, you know that?” Remus snapped, hurt more than anger fuelling his words, “I told you to leave me alone for the day and you can’t even fucking do that? You insist on ruining everything!”

You looked over your shoulder, passed James (who was also looking over his shoulder) and realized Remus was trudging back toward Hogsmeade. Sirius had turned to watch him go, picking up the discarded bag of sweets that he’d tossed as he’d stormed out.

“Remus!” Sirius called, still sounding jovial though mildly confused, as if he couldn’t fathom why his friend was upset.

James seemed to have caught on, his hands falling from your shoulders, “sorry, we just thought it’d be a laugh.”

“It’s okay,” you weren’t really sure that it was okay but you didn’t know what other platitude to offer them. “I’ll go see if I can catch up with him?”

“Think that’s best, he might sock us if we follow him now.” James replied.

You took the candy from Sirius and started after Remus, following his tracks in the snow. By the time you got to Hogsmeade, his footpath had muddled with everyone else’s and it was impossible to know exactly where he’d gone. You thought about asking around but then that seemed silly, you had misplaced someone in a village this small? Wouldn’t that just mean they didn’t want to see you? Hogwarts seemed logical, he’d show up there eventually, at least. So you hiked your way back to Hogwarts and were almost immediately reminded why you disliked coming to Hogsmeade most of the time. The treacherous uphill climb back to the school was daunting, especially when you were forced to trek on your own through the snow.

By the time you got back to the castle your knees, shins, elbows and the bottom of your jacket were all wet and icing over. Luck took pity on you though and you found Remus on the bridge, over looking the lake and gorge.

“I‘ve saved your chocolates, which turned out to be quite a feat because I lost my footing at least three times on the walk back,” you called, “you’ll be relieved to have abandoned the day, then you didn’t have to be embarrassed by my clumsiness.”

“I,” Remus sighed as he turned toward you, “I didn’t mean to abandon anything…I uh, I’m prone to a temper every now and again.”

“Is that what that was? You seemed so calm and collected,” you teased, “Sirius was right though, I’m really not bothered. I’m sorry that you were.”

“I just wanted it to be a nice date,” Remus admitted. “I fucked up the ask and then…well I made a whole list of things we could chat about and it was complete rubbish so I tossed it and then I couldn’t come up with anything noteworthy to say-“

“I had a lovely time,” you cut him off, laying your hand on his arm, “you don’t need a list of topics Remus, we’re friends…we talk all the time.”

“Yeah, but not…I mean, not the sort of talk that leads people to think you’re interested in them, in a more than friendly way.” He admitted, “we always chat about friendly things.”

“Well, I could start telling you how gorgeous you look in your vest, would that help?” You asked, reaching out to gently tug the hem of his vest as you spoke.

“Yes, I suppose.” He nodded, “I, as you can imagine, I was planning on kissing you…perhaps, if you wanted to, of course. Not by the shack, that would be unromantic. I was thinking maybe just in the woods but then we wander further than I intended too and, as you know, James-“

You tugged his vest again, a little rougher this time, and leaned in to kiss him. “You know you sound an awful lot like me right now?” You almost laughed, “you’re supposed to be the confident one aren’t you?”

“You should try being me when you’re looking at me like that.”

“What am I looking at you like?” You asked.

“Like, well,” the thought occurred to Remus suddenly, like someone pulling a lightbulb string inside his head and bringing a lamp to life, “like you always look at me.” He said it softly, as if he were afraid to admit what he’d really known all along.

“You’re very clever,” you teased, kissing him once more, “are you positive you aren’t in Ravenclaw?”

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x gn!reader #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era imagine #marauders era fanfic #collecting stories imagine

[mishasminion360]

How Do You Do It?

Jack Daniels x fem!reader

Warnings: Mild language; words said in anger; stress-induced anxiety; mild angst; self-doubt; but lots of fluff, I swear.

Summary: Being a new mother and a homemaker are two difficult jobs to juggle at the same time, and even more of a challenge when your husband is constantly away. When Jack returns from his latest assignment to find you overtaxed and irritable, he decides to make it up to you by spending a day in your shoes.

A/N: What a busy summer/early fall. So much has changed in such a short time. Change is weird sometimes and brings a lot of stress. Had my first-ever panic attack. Zero stars; do not recommend. But even the stressful, scary parts of our lives can be inspiring. This fic is proof of that 😝

P.S. As you can see I began this fic in the fall of 2023 and look how late I’m posting it! I’m sorry for the long hiatus, folks, but believe me when I say it was necessary.

How is it that your husband is the secret agent, but the weight of the world always feels like it’s been thrust upon your shoulders?

The day you found out you were expecting was one of the happiest of your life. You and Jack had been over the moon and spent the entire adventure of pregnancy fantasizing about all the joys of parenthood that would arrive along with your bundle of joy. You weren’t kidding yourselves; you knew that a baby brought big changes and more than a few challenges. You just weren’t aware of just how high those hurdles would be until you were thrown into the race.

The roles of wife, homemaker, and now mother all seem to merge into one monstrous, never-ending task; and your duties seemed all the more daunting when you were left to fulfill them alone.

Jack is nothing short of attentive and dedicated when he’s at home. The problem is that “home” is usually the last place one will find him. As of late, his job with the Statesmen pulls and pushes him this way and that into parts unknown where he’s embroiled in espionage for some indeterminate period, leaving you with a house to maintain, meals to prepare, clothes to launder, and a colicky infant to soothe.

You’re trapped inside a pressure cooker and the temperature is nearing critical.

***

“Baby Shark” is on its 25th iteration, every “doo doo doo” is like a bat to the back of your head. You dance topless in the living room with your wailing son clutched to your naked chest. You’d tossed your t-shirt into the wash twenty minutes ago, covered—like the two before it—in your baby boy’s milky vomit.

Your sanity is a mere thread, frayed, delicate, and seconds away from completely unraveling. Your head is pounding and back aching, and you’re trying to convince yourself that the flush of heat you feel just beneath your skin is not a fever. You can’t afford to be sick now. Not when you are all your son has; when you are all you have.

“Daddy’s home, darlin’!”

The sound of his voice, the familiar clip-clop of his boots on the hardwood floor, should fill you with after hardly having heard it for a solid week. Instead, it has your already tepid body simmering with frustration.

“Hey there, Mama Mare.” The affectionate term oozes from between his grinning lips with all the smooth, sweet ease of honey. “Give this ol’ cowboy some sugar. He missed you.”

His lips are on yours and then detaching themselves before your mouth can even register it’d just been in contact with another; far quicker and more careless than the long overdue reunion kiss you’d been anticipating. The brief little smooch held about as much passion as a handshake.

“There’s my little cowpoke!”

Jack lifts his squalling son from your arms and little John’s cries instantly cease. Of course they do. Of freaking course.

“Well, now, you didn’t have to get all dressed up on my account, honeybee.”

You snap to attention after possibly having fallen asleep on your feet for a split second to see that Jack’s devilish gaze has zeroed in on your bared tits.

“You certainly know how to welcome a fella home.”

While he’s busy ogling your non-seductive nudity, your own eyes have locked onto the trail of muddy prints stretching from the front door, each filthy footfall a perfect imprint of the sole of Jack’s boots. Yet another mess you’ll have to clean up; another chore added to the already heavy burden you’re shouldering.

“How’s about after dinner we mosey on upstairs, put this little buckaroo to bed, then I show you just how much I missed you?”

You don’t even know how to respond to him right now, so you don’t. You simply turn your back and walk away, seething in a silent rage as you stomp your way upstairs to put on the thickest, ugliest sweatshirt you can find that leaves everything up to the imagination.

John starts to wail once again, but that’s Jack’s problem now. You have about a million other tasks to accomplish—make that a million and one, thanks to his filthy freaking boots.

You slip into the master bath and toss back a couple of Advil for your pounding headache and by the time you re-emerge, Jack is pacing around your bed, hands on his hips and a pensive scowl on his face.

You take a deep breath through your nose and the words tumble from your lips in a sigh. “I haven’t started dinner yet. Give me just a few minutes and I can—“

“Did I say somethin’ wrong?” he blurts. “‘Cause you gave me a look back there that reminded me of an angry steer about to trample a rodeo clown.”

“Just forget it,” you mutter, brushing past him toward the door. His hand wraps around your wrist before you can cross the threshold.

“I ain’t forgettin’ nothin’,” he drawls as he turns you to face him. “Sugar, what’s wrong? No use lyin’ because I can tell somethin’s stuck in your craw.”

Oh, it’s stuck alright. Like a bug in a windshield.

“Jesus, Jack,” you sigh. “Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve had a total of five non-consecutive hours of sleep this week. Or it could be the fact that the house is a mess or that I’m down to my last pair of clean underwear. All the chores have been put on hold so I could tend to our son while you’ve been off playing ‘secret agent man’ in God only knows where.”

His mustache twitches and his jaw ticks.

“Honeybee, why didn’t you tell me you’ve been strugglin’? I would have—“

“Because I shouldn’t have to tell you!” you snap. “You should know me well enough by now to tell when I’m not okay! You should already have some inkling of how hard it is to raise a child and that the process usually goes much smoother when both parents are involved. But I guess I’m just a fool for assuming. Getting shot at is far less hazardous to your health than changing a dirty diaper after all.”

When the red finally clears from your vision you see that Jack’s has become clouded with a look you’d only bore witness to once and concluded that you never wanted to see again. His mirthful brown eyes dulled by a deeply rooted pain planted long ago by a cruel twist of fate. He’d been robbed of his first chance to be a husband and father and you’d just accused him of squandering his second.

“Sugar, I’m….I’m sorry.”

Shit. It’s not fair. You have been miserable for an entire week and you can’t stand to see him miserable for even a millisecond.

“No, I’m sorry,” you insist, voice and legs quivering. You lower yourself to the bed before exhaustion and gravity get the better of you. “I’m just so tired. Tired and frustrated.”

He drops to the bed beside you and pulls you into one of his signature hugs you’ve missed so much. The tightest of embraces that only he can give.

“I know you’re working hard to provide for our family,” you sob. “I know that but still I….I feel so alone, Jack.”

Before even a single southern-drenched syllable can leave his mouth, a sharp wail blasts from the baby monitor and your body reacts instinctively and urgently. You shoot up and out of Jack’s arms like a rocket.

“Let me check on him and then I’ll start dinner,” you say with a sniffle.

“I’ll get him, darlin’,” Jack insists, gently grasping you by the wrist and halting your minimal progress toward the door.

“But he probably needs—“

“I will get him.”

His hands are on your shoulders now—firm yet gentle—and grounding, comforting.

“Please, let me take care of my boy so you can take care of you, honeybee. And then, later, I’d like to take care of you, too. If you’ll let me.”

You can only muster a nod before he’s striding out of the room. Taking advantage of the first minute you’ve had to yourself in a week, you slip into the shower and let the warm spray unclench every muscle coiled tight with stress.

By the time you emerge, John is sleeping peacefully and a pizza’s been ordered. Jack dotes on you the entire evening, giving your aching feet a rub down with his skillful hands and cuddling you close as you both zone out to some ridiculous reality TV. His mere presence is a balm to your weary soul.

Whenever the baby cries in the middle of the night and your body moves on instinct Jack stills you, urges you back to the mattress, and takes on the challenge himself. It’s the best night’s sleep you’ve had in you can’t remember how long.

***

And surprisingly enough, you don’t manage to sleep any later than 9 a.m. The smell of extra greasy bacon lures you from bed, a siren’s call to your stomach.

John bounces in his high chair, babbling around a mouthful of mashed banana, most of which appears to have ended up on his face, shirt, and chubby little fists. Jack is an even more astonishing sight than your messy son, strutting about the kitchen in your frilly apron topping his off-white Henley and faded Wranglers.

“Well, good mornin’, sugar,” he cries, grabbing your hips to tug you in for a kiss. “Though I wasn’t expectin’ to see you up so soon.”

“How did you expect me to stay asleep when something smells incredible?”

“That would be my famous chocolate chip, peanut butter, and banana flapjacks.”

In true Southern gentlemanly fashion, he pulls out a chair and eases you into it before setting a towering stack of syrup-soaked pancakes before you, coffee and bacon following suit.

“Better eat quick now, darlin’,” Jack urges as he takes a seat with his plate. “You’ve got a busy day ahead of you.”

As if you could forget. That laundry is begging for attention, the house hasn’t had a good dusting in you can’t recall how long, and Johnny already needs a bath—

“I made you an appointment for noon.”

Your train of thought instantly stalls on the tracks.

“Appointment?”

Jack grins over the brim of his steaming mug.

“Honey, you need a break. Figured you might enjoy yourself a little spa day.”

You can hardly believe your ears.

“Spa day?”

“Yes, ma’am. Massage, mud baths, whatever the heck they do with seaweed, the whole nine yards,” he explains proudly. “I even called up your buddy from work and asked if she’d like to join you. And it’s all on me.”

“But Jack, what about John? And the house, the laundry, the cooking?”

“Gimme some credit, sugar,” he chuckles. “I think I can keep the homestead standin’ and our baby boy breathin’ for a day. Besides, it’s high time I start puttin’ in my fair share of help around here, isn’t it?”

You’re not sure if you want to thank him or burst into tears. Maybe both.

“You do so much, honeybee,” he says warmly, voice as smooth, rich, and sweet as the syrup sluiced atop your pancakes. “You move mountains every day to make this house a home. How’s about lettin’ someone do somethin’ for you for a change?”

You scarf down the rest of your pancakes before kissing him with sticky lips and racing up the stairs to get ready for your big day out.

***

You feel rejuvenated and refreshed. Brand fucking new. A far cry from the husk of a woman who’d left the house this morning. Wrapped in seaweed and slathered with mud you’d been returned to the earth and reborn at full strength, like a phoenix risen from the ash.

You'd been reunited with an inner strength and power you'd all but forgotten. And thank God for that, because you're going to need every bit of it to face the chaos you come walking back into upon your return home.

You can hear John’s piercing wails before you’ve cut the engine and opened the driver’s side door. You can smell the smoke before you've even reached the front steps.

Inside all hell has broken loose. Gray tendrils of smoke slither through the air, teasing the detector into screaming its warning. Your baby boy is giving it some stiff competition with his own cries as Jack struggles to bounce him on one arm while he tries to fan away the smoke with the other. Both gestures prove futile.

“It’s okay, buckeroo. You’re okay. Don’t cry. Please, please don’t cry.”

Jack looks so frazzled. The situation is far from funny so the last thing you should do is laugh at his expense. But dammit if you don’t anyway.

“Do you need some help there, cowboy?”

His frantic eyes find you through the haze and pierce you with a desperate, wordless plea. You take the inconsolable infant from your husband’s arm and soothe him into silence as Jack does the same to the smoke alarm.

“There now, Johnny. See? Everything’s okay. Daddy made the bad sound stop.”

“He just stopped cryin’ for you. Just like that.”

Something in his eyes burns. Something in his voice cracks.

“I couldn't bring him any kind of comfort. He didn't….want nothin’ to do with me.”

Your weary cowpoke sags into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and buries his face in his hands with an exasperated sigh.

“You were right, darlin’. I'm useless.”

You settle John into his high chair with a teething ring to distract him before turning your attention to your distressed husband.

“To be fair, I never said you were useless.”

“You may as well have,” he sighs. “And if you weren’t thinkin’ it before you’ll be thinkin’ it now.”

You smirk. “Rough day?”

“Oh darlin’, you don’t even know the half of it.”

He begins to recount the day’s challenges, his voice raising in pitch as goes from describing one hurdle to the next. He almost seems on the verge of tears.

“And I got so distracted while tryin’ to get our fussy boy to eat his dinner that I failed to hear the timer and let ours burn. Hence the fiasco you came home to. And when John started bellowing for his supper I was in the middle of the laundry and I forgot to separate the colorful items from the rest, so my new red jockeys turned our bathroom towels pink and….and I just failed so miserably today, sugar. I’m so sorry.”

You laugh, unable to help it. It’s all you can do at this point. “Welcome to my world, sweetheart.”

“How on Earth do you do it, sugar?”

If you’re being honest, you ask yourself that question at least once a day, and not always with the same emotional connotation behind it.

“There’s just something inside of me that encourages me to power through the difficulties. A force, a reminder.”

“An iron will for damn sure,” he scoffs.

“No, that’s not it,” you chuckle. “It’s love, Jack. For you and our boy. That’s what keeps me going.”

He looks at your have cradling his own, a gesture of both dominance and comfort. In this moment he believes that he is made of inferiority.

“I love you both to the moon and back, yet I can’t even do a load of laundry.”

“Jack you do enough. I have not, do not, and never will doubt your love for me and John,” you reassure him. “Acts of service just happen to be my particular love language, not yours.”

“Then what is mine?”

You lift his hands and kiss both sets of his knuckles. “Words of affirmation.”

His acts of service are for the world, but his words are just for you.

“But ain’t actions supposed to speak louder?”

“For others, maybe,” you shrug. “But that’s only because no one else speaks as loudly as you.”

@grimeylady @rav3n-pascal22 @mamacitapascal @insomniamama1 @pedrosbisch @emmaispunk @lv7867 @reonlouw @hawaiianmelodies @heythere-mel @healingstardust @delorena @pedropasxal @caesaryoulater @fangirling-alert @fromthedeskoftheraven @axshadows @dragon-scales88 @spacepastel-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @hauntedmama @mswarriorbabe80 @horton-hears-a-honk @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @a-trial-run-on-paper @oonajaeadira @dhadiirah @felicisimor @practicalghost @luz-introvertida @amneris21 @hb8301 @tanzthompson @littlemisspascal @dobbyjen @supernaturalgirl20 @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed @trickstersp8 @neganwifey25-blog @twistedboxy @emiemiemiii @energeticspookyshark @thevoiceinyourheadx @pedr0swh0r3 @anamiad00msday @secretwriterpp @wannab-urs @pedrostories

#pedro pascal #jack whiskey daniels #kingsman the golden circle #fluff #fem!reader #domestic fluff #Jack trying his best #stress #adulting #parenthood

[byersbootyshorts]

hey there! I'm litch obsessed with your writing, could I poss request some sub!jonathan? maybe like a slightly more experienced reader taking his virginity or smth

…Stays In The Darkroom

Read Part 1 first

Summary: After getting a taste of Jonathan you can't get enough. And this time you go all the way.

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x fem!reader

Warnings: sub!Jonathan, dom!reader, some really unholy smut

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: If you haven’t read part 1 read it before you read this. I kind of combined this request and the request from part 1 because they’re pretty similar. Anyways, enjoy this you filthy animals.

You spent the entire weekend thinking about Jonathan and what happened the other day. His whimpering moans filled your dreams and your mind constantly wandered to what you might do to him next.

When Monday finally arrived you practically leapt out of bed. You could hardly wait until the final bell so you could head back to the darkroom and make all the fantasies you’d had in the last few days a reality.

By only third period you could hardly bare it. You still had hours until school ended and Mrs Click’s mindless droning wasn’t making the day go any faster. Suddenly you had an idea.

Lucky for you Jonathan sat in front of you this class. You quickly ripped a piece of paper from your notebook and wrote.

‘Meet me in the darkroom. Lunchtime.’

You tapped his shoulder, a smirk plastered on your face. He turned around with a confused expression and you handed him the note. He read it quickly and raised his eyebrows. He looked back up at you, nodded timidly and turned to face the front again. You could tell by the way his shoulders rose and fell at a faster pace that his breathing had quickened.

You struggled your way through your next lesson. Your leg bounced as you grew more and more impatient. Until finally the lunch bell rang. You told your friends to go on without you as you passed the darkroom.

‘I just need to check some photos I took last week,’ you lied.

So, they walked to the cafeteria without you, leaving you in front of the oh so familiar door.

When the hallway cleared you quickly composed yourself before turning the doorknob and entering the room. Jonathan was already there leaning lazily against the wall but the minute he saw you he straightened up. Neither of you said a word.

You slowly walked up to him until your lips were millimetres apart. You placed a hand on the wall behind him and stared deeply into his eyes.

‘Are you just gonna stand there like a little bitch or are you gonna kiss me, Byers?’ you said after Jonathan had gawked at you for a minute. He swallowed hard before leaning forward, closing the gap between your mouths. You sighed hungrily into the kiss. Jonathan took less time loosening up than he had previously, almost instantly turning to putty in your grasp.

You pressed your other hand on the wall on the other side of his head, trapping him between the concrete and your body. This time he was more confident with his hands, placing them around your waist with little hesitation.

He even kissed you better. His tongue moved in motion with yours as your mouths became familiar.

‘Good boy. You’re getting better at this,’ you told him as you pulled away.

You could feel the bulge already in his pants swell even more when you praised him.

You looked at his neck, the red marks you’d left on it last time were now tiny pink spots. That would never do. You gently traced along them with your tongue, replacing each one with another dark mark as you went. You let your hands play carelessly with his hair, earning low moans from Jonathan. When you reached the collar of his shirt you didn’t let that stop you.

‘Take your shirt off,’ you instructed. Jonathan still didn’t say anything. He had his usual look of shock for a moment before doing exactly as you asked. He ripped his shirt off to reveal a surprisingly toned body. While he had no abs his stomach was tight and defined.

With this obstacle out of the way you continued down his body, leaving a trail of bright red marks that led from his jaw, down his neck to his chest. You loved the way Jonathan writhed when you reached his lower stomach. Your hands, which were placed on his waist, made their way to the bugle in his jeans. You rubbed his cock over the material as you sucked his stomach. His needy whines made you rub harder.

His hands were shaking and eventually made their way to your hair. You stopped what you were doing, got up and grabbed Jonathan’s hands.

‘You don’t get to do that,’ you said. ‘Only I get to do that.’

‘Sorry,’ Jonathan whispered.

‘You better be.’ You took Jonathan’s hands and placed them above his head.

‘These stay here from now on. Understand?’ you asked.

Jonathan nodded his head violently.

‘I said, do you understand?’ you repeated.

‘Y- yes, I understand,’ he stuttered.

‘Good.’

You knelt back down, returning to where you were. As you kissed his stomach you quickly undid his belt. You could feel Jonathan’s excitement as you freed his hard cock from his tight jeans. When you pulled down his pants he sighed shakily at the relief.

You stroked the base of his dick, looking up to make sure his hands were still where you left them.

When you were satisfied he’d obeyed you you turned your attention back to his cock. It was level with your mouth. Exactly where you wanted it. You leaned in and licked where you had been stroking. Your hot breath made Jonathan to shudder and whimper.

Then, you took his cock in your mouth, carefully moving your head back and forth at a quickening pace. Jonathan swore and whined your name as became closer to cumming. You could feel his legs shaking so you grabbed his thighs. Your nails dug into his flesh, driving him crazy.

‘I, shit, I’m gonna, fuck, cum already,’ he moaned.

And that was your cue.

You pulled away from his twitching dick and got up off your knees.

‘W-what?’ was all Jonathan could say.

‘Remember I told you I wouldn’t be so forgiving next time?’ you said, wiping your mouth with your thumb. ‘That’s what you get when you cum before I tell you to.’

‘But-,’ Jonathan whined.

‘No buts, Byers. You did this to yourself.’

Jonathan’s head fell as he wondered how the hell he was going to get his pants back up when he was one stroke away from cumming.

‘Hey, chin up, sweetheart. I’ll be back later,’ you winked, throwing him his shirt as you dashed out of the room, back into the busy hallway.

You just about got through the rest of the day. Although you didn’t learn much; imagining Jonathan still pinned up against the wall occupied most of your thoughts. But, at last, the school day ended. You took your time saying goodbye to your friends. You wanted to leave Jonathan waiting for as long as you could bear. But eventually you made your way back to the darkroom.

When you walked in, once again, Jonathan was already there, except this time he wasn’t doing something as simple as leaning against the wall.

Jonathan sat on one of the tables, leaning back, head lulled backwards. One hand pressed against the table for support, the other was wrapped around his dick. And he didn’t stop when he saw you enter the room.

‘You little slut,’ you laughed, locking the door behind you and walking over to him. ‘You really couldn’t wait a couple of hours, could you?’

You grabbed the hand that was on his dick and pulled it away.

‘And what did I say about these hands?’ you asked.

Jonathan obediently raised his hands above his head.

‘Good boy.’

You could tell he was itching for you to touch him. You replaced where his hand had been on his dick with yours and asked.

‘Since you’re such a horny slut why don’t you tell me what you want me to do to you?’

Jonathan took a few deep breaths. Your dominance over him was enough to make him cum right then and there.

‘Touch me,’ he breathed.

‘Well, I’m doing that, aren’t I?’ you said, pulling slightly harder on his dick. ‘Come on, Jonathan. I know you can do better than that.’

He mumbled something you couldn’t quite make out.

‘Speak up, Byers. I can’t hear you.’

‘I want you to fuck me,’ he whined painfully. ‘I want you on top of me. I want you to make me cum.’

His sudden begging surprised you. His needy, whiney voice made your heart rate quicken and your underwear wet.

‘That’s my little whore. I knew you had it in you.’

You pulled off his shirt for the second time that day, admiring the handiwork you’d left earlier.

Jonathan’s pants were already at his ankles but you pulled them off entirely, leaving him completely naked in front of you.

You grabbed his neck and pushed him down onto the table. You straddled him, placing yourself at the bottom of his stomach. Your slick underwear dampened his skin.

Leaning down so your face was above his you whispered.

‘You ever been fucked before, Byers?’

Jonathan shook his head vigorously.

‘But you wanna be fucked?’

‘Yes, god, please,’ he whined.

You were thankful you’d worn a skirt that day as you easily slipped off your underwear. Then you pulled your shirt off. Jonathan’s breath hitched as he looked up at your body. His hands lightly rested on your thighs and you sighed in annoyance.

‘Seriously, how many times, Jonathan?’ you moved his hands back to where you loved them most- above his head- and jumped off of him. A high-pitched whine escaped his throat as you walked over to your bag.

‘Calm down,’ you said, riffling through your bag. ‘I’m just looking for- ah, here it is.’

You pulled the spare neck strap you had for your camera out from your bag and walked back over to Jonathan.

‘What’s that for?’ he asked, not daring to move.

‘Well, since you can’t keep your hands to yourself, I’m going to have to help you.’

You climbed back on top of him and shifted your weight forward so your covered breasts hung just above Jonathan’s face and used the strap to restrain his hands.

‘That’s better.’ You sat back again. Jonathan’s eyes were still locked on your tits.

When you noticed this, you quickly undid the clasp of your bra and removed it. Jonathan’s eyes looked like they might pop out of his skull and his mouth hung open.

‘Seriously, Jonathan, control yourself.’ You pulled his chin up until his eyes met yours. ‘I’m gonna fuck you like the dirty slut you are.’

You carefully positioned yourself above his aching dick. Jonathan gazed up at you, a pleading look on his face. Gradually, you lowered yourself down until you bottomed out, letting out a soft moan.

‘F-fuck,’ Jonathan groaned.

You sat there for a minute, staring down at Jonathan’s watering eyes as you adjusted.

‘Feels good, doesn’t it,’ you said. ‘It feels good having me sit on top of you with your hands tied up and your dick in me.’

‘Mmh, yes, feels good. Want more,’ Jonathan struggled to get the words out.

At his words you began riding him, your pussy tightening around him as you moved up and down.

Jonathan blurted out a string of swears as you found your rhythm. His hands twitched in their restraints, begging to touch you. When you found a steady rhythm you leaned down, placing a hand on either side of Jonathan’s head to steady yourself. He stared up into your eyes with furrowed brows. You could taste the coffee on his breath as his breathing changed from fast to ragged.

‘You’re so good just lying here and taking me,’ you praised. ‘Think you can take some more?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, fuck, yes please.’

You slowly started to quicken your pace, causing Jonathan’s hips to jut violently upwards.

‘Uh, uh.’ You placed a hand on his neck to keep him down. His face flushed. ‘You should be thankful I’m doing all the work.’

You continued moving up and down on his dick, each thrust got sloppier as you came close to finishing. Jonathan still laid beneath you, a tear now trickling down his cheek as you choked him harder.

‘I’m gonna-,’

‘No,’ you interrupted, pressing your finger against his lips. ‘No, you’re not.’ You gave him a stern look.

Jonathan closed his eyes in concentration as he tried to hold off. Another tear fell from his glazed over eyes and he made a noise that sounded like a mix between a moan and a sob. His screams echoed throughout the small, dimly-lit room. You should’ve told him to shut up- you were still in school after all- but the noises Jonathan was making were too beautiful to stop. You too allowed breathy moans to escape you as you rode him roughly.

The combination of you choking him and his overwhelming need for release made Jonathan almost black out. His eyes nearly rolled back so you loosened your grip around his neck.

‘Please, shit, please let me cum. I’ve done everything you asked. Please, I can’t-.’ Jonathan’s slim body shook intensely beneath you. His weak begging only brought you closer to your own climax.

‘I guess you’ve been a good little whore for me,’ you flicked a piece of his hair from his eye. ‘Go on then.’

You rolled your body as hard as you could as you felt Jonathan cum inside you. He whined your name needily between sobs of pleasure. The feeling of his cum filling you up made you moan as you too reached your climax. You planted your hands on his shoulders, making marks in his skin as you fucked him senseless.

‘Good boy, yes, that’s it,’ you panted.

Cum spilled out between your legs, pooling on Jonathan’s stomach. His chest moved up and down vigorously as you rode out your orgasm. Eventually, you slowed down until you came to a stop.

‘Well, shit, Byers,’ you said, still sitting on his dick. ‘Not bad for a first try.’

You carefully untied his restraints, freeing his hands. But he kept them there above his head. Too fucked out to move.

Your legs were shaking from exhaustion but you pulled yourself off him. You quickly pulled your shirt back on and packed the rest of your stuff in your bag. When you were finished Jonathan was still frozen in place, although the rise and fall of his chest was less rapid. You grabbed a tissue from your bag and wiped the cum from his stomach, placing a kiss on his chest as you did so.

Before you could straighten up again Jonathan grabbed your arm and pulled you in. He crashed his lips against yours briefly before pulling away, an askant look in his eyes.

‘Same time tomorrow?’ he asked. His voice was raspy from screaming, his eyes irresistibly wide. You chuckled grabbing his pants from the floor.

‘That’s my good little slut.’ You threw him the rest of his clothes and without saying another word you carefully unlocked the door and left.

All you could think about was what else you could do to him tomorrow.

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #sub!jonathan byers #smut oneshot #dom!reader #jonathan byers smut #jonathan byers one shot #stranger things #oneshot #smut fic #stranger things smut #i need to touch some grass