#might try n bargain it down a bit

[beardedjoel]

smother - part i: deliverance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: starving. lost. desperate. you find a cabin in the woods, and to your dismay, it's occupied. a plan to have a quick bite of food with an intense, intriguing stranger turns into more than you'd bargained for when he makes you realize everything you've been missing out on. 8.6k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is late 40s) manipulation/lying/gaslighting, slow burn and tension building chapter, joel is kind of a creepy menace ngl a/n: i'm so so very excited to share the first chapter of my new series! (if this flops after how much i got hyped for it i will be logging off forever) the themes in this story are dark so if the tags aren’t for you it’s understandable & just keep scrollin on by! this will end up being nasty and smutty, but only after a wee bit of buildup so don't fear. comments and reblogs are always beyond appreciated!

Save me. Please, anyone…

Another wave of desolate, crying desperation tears through you as you trudge along, tripping yet again - maybe over your own two feet, a root, the very ground you walk on, something. You’re much too hazy and burnt out to even care what you stumbled on as you just press on, press on, press on.

A wave of pain rolls through your stomach again as it burns cavernously empty. You move as a ghost, a shell of yourself now, using passing trees as support. Your hands touch the cold wood reluctantly, a painful little hiss through your teeth as your fingers practically cramp up from the cold. You’d lost your gloves somewhere along the way, days ago now, what feels like a lifetime. You need to stop and rest desperately now, your body close to giving out. Your heart hammers in fear, wondering if you’d even be able to get up again.

A cabin comes into view in the distance, tucked nicely in a clearing of trees. You think your eyes are deceiving you, that you’ve finally succumbed to the madness that comes with such hunger and loneliness, your brain conjuring up images to comfort you. You see smoke coming out of a chimney on the roof, and your heart equally swells and drops at the discovery - it’s not a shelter for you alone, no. Not a lucky discovery, somewhere to lay your head tonight that’s dry and warm without disturbance. Someone already lives here, has a home here, and they might not take too kindly to strangers. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the last few weeks of your own personal hell, it’s to tread carefully. Always.

You keep your footsteps light and quiet, trying to approach with some semblance of caution. Your empty stomach is pushing you along, begging for any scrap of food that might be inside, hopefully offered up to you by the kindness of a stranger. Berries and the occasional rabbit or lucky can of food found were not enough to live off of anymore - you could feel the way your body faded away by the day, losing any bit of strength you’d had in the first place.

You pause, hitching your breath and then barely daring to breathe at all when you get close enough to hear a sound - a low, throaty grunting followed by the crack of wood. Your eyes scan the area as you sneak closer and then land upon him. He’s broad and muscled, you can see that much from back here. Messy, dark hair that curls all around his head and down his neck. When his body turns enough that you see his face a little bit more, you notice he looks older and has dark, piercing eyes. They send a shudder through you, even from afar, only making you feel colder out in this frosty afternoon.

You wrap your coat a little tighter and decide to get closer, assess the situation, see if he seems friendly enough to give you something to eat and send you on your merry way. He swings an ax high up in the air and brings it down swiftly onto a large piece of wood, splitting it before tossing the logs into a pile already full of more firewood. You press your lips together, noticing how strong he is, betting there are well built up muscles underneath that flannel shirt of his. That makes him a threat, a big one, you quickly assess. 

You’re too distracted, not watching your step, when a large branch cracks underneath your boot. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, holding perfectly still, your breath coming out in quick, staccato exhales.

“H-hey!” you hear a gruff voice, sounding out of breath. You peek your eyes open slowly to see the man looking in your direction and silently curse yourself. “C’mon out!” he yells, and you see him reach to his waist, hands grazing a shining revolver holstered there.

Your stomach pulls into tight knots and you stand frozen for a few moments. Your brain quickly assesses everything, weighing the options. Running away, with no possibility of eating a single thing is one option, but the likelihood this stranger will shoot you seems high no matter what, so you decide to take your chances.

You put your hands in front of you, palms out, and slowly emerge from behind the trees. You walk gingerly along the crisp, frosty grass, crunching under your feet every step of the way. Your anxious breaths come out in little puffs in front of you as the cold air enters and exits your lungs.

The man falters, his fist closing and then opening again, pulling away from the revolver on his hip a bit. He blinks hard, staring at you in this silent showdown. “W-well shit, you’re just a girl…” he finally says quietly to himself, his posture relaxing a little. You stand perfectly still, choked up now that you’re confronted with the idea of speaking to him, such a large, imposing wall of a man, and those eyes, god, those eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you don’t give me a reason to, now, girl.” His voice is the tiniest bit softer, and you pick up on his Southern drawl, an accent you’ve heard a few times before. “Do ya need help?” He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, a gleam of sweat having built up from chopping wood and his large chest still heaving. He takes a step closer to you, and you don’t step back, but feel every muscle coil up tightly as your mind screams at you that this was a mistake, a huge fucking mistake. Your feet tingle, toes flexing and getting ready to run, but you can’t make yourself do it, to take that first step.

Instead, you nod. “I- y-yes…” you say quietly. You’ll never understand why you say it, other than the fact that you’re drawn in by him, by his chestnut hair flecked with gray, his patchy beard that he’s currently scratching. By his build that looks so… safe yet dangerous, but you get the feeling that no, he’d never hurt you. You envision those arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly, shielding you from the world and everything you’ve been through. You never thought much about relationships or boys before - just a few simple and innocent crushes, but it hadn’t been on your radar as such a shy kid and teenager. But this… this was what people talked about - attraction. It nearly stole your breath the closer you got to him, threatening to suck you into what felt like an endless void. 

“Alright,” the man replies, trying to match your quieter demeanor. He glances around, eyes narrowed and scanning the woods beyond you. “You with anyone? Or all alone out here?”

You know why he’s asking, you’ve seen what people can do - sending someone innocent and unimposing out to lay a trap, but you don’t lie when you shake your head. “A-alone. I’m alone, swear, sir.”

His jaw seems to tick, noticeable even from the distance you’re at before he answers you. “Okay, then. C’mon a little closer, I won’t bite, okay?” he says, and he’s so convincing that you do believe him, despite your instincts telling you otherwise. The world is cruel and unrelenting, taking away most of the trust you’ve ever had in humanity the second you place it into anything or anyone. 

You move a little closer, small, gentle steps, and he nods encouragingly. 

“Now there ya go. Look at ya…” he marvels with a click of his tongue, shaking his head once you’re just a few feet away from him. 

He takes in your messy hair, slightly matted from wearing a winter hat on and off the last few weeks and sleeping on the ground. Your clothes have seen better days too, your skin smudged with dirt no matter how many water sources you found to try and rinse off a little bit. Even despite all of that, he gazes at you with a curiosity, with that look of interest that you felt like you’d given him without trying to. It’s quiet for another moment, the both of you sizing each other up, until Joel’s look turns a little more pitiful when you shiver as a sudden gust of wind whips past you, your threadbare coat doing little to protect you from the chill in the air here. You can’t be sure if your shuddering has less to do with the wind and more with the way that this man’s eyes are digging into what feels like your very soul.

“We gotta get you inside, okay? You’re shakin’, and you look like you ain’t had a proper meal in… too long…” He continues to eye you up and down, taking in your weak frame. 

You stay silent for another moment, swallowing hard and then shuddering again. “I - I don’t know…” you breathe out. You might have some sudden, fantastical dream that this man is your savior, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be cautious - the mind is a tricky, deceiving thing.

“I ain’t gonna ask again, ain’t gonna beg ya, girl. C’mon,” he says a little more roughly, a hand shooting out quickly and grabbing you by the wrist and tugging. “Just want to get a good meal in you, alright?”

You wince at the grasp on your wrist, the roughness and hardness he’s starting to show you, but you let him pull, starting to move your feet and trail after him. 

“T-thank you…sir,” you murmur quietly, and he swings his head to look back at you, his eyes softening. 

“You’re welcome. Now get inside and get warm. I’ve got a fire goin’.” He lets go of your wrist, trusting you to follow him as his heavy boots clunk up the few steps leading to the front door of his cabin. It’s modest, beautifully constructed, all dark wood around the outside and a small porch. You start to wonder if this man built it himself, or just found it as it is. Your initial impression of him leads you to believe that he does seem like the type to build a whole god damn cabin. He half looks like a lumberjack already in the plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. 

“Found this place ‘bout five years ago,” he says as if he could read your mind while he swings the door open. “Real nice and private, so don’t worry.”

Your eyes narrow slightly at his last comment, but you try to brush it off as you enter inside with him. The warm air hits your body, an immediate balm to your frayed nerves and chilled skin, a slightly smoky smell from the fire hits your nostrils and you immediately hear the crackle and pop of the logs in the little fireplace. The cabin is mainly one big room, a kitchen tucked into the corner right to the left of the door, and the living room beyond that with cozy couches and chairs, even a TV that you doubt is working but find yourself hopeful for some reason. It’s been a long time since you were able to watch a movie, flashing back to childhood memories when you’d lived in a more stable, thriving community that had power. 

Stairs beyond that lead to what you assume are bedrooms or a bathroom, and your eyes curiously take in all the little details and decor - the man’s jackets hanging along the wall near the entrance, his rifle propped next to the door and several different pairs of worn boots. 

You realize you’re just standing right near the doorway, silently looking around in a daze while your new acquaintance has been trying to get your attention. 

“Hey, girl, I’m talkin’ t’ya…” his voice says, the noise fading back into your consciousness.

You shake your head. “S-sorry,” you say quietly, a shy little squeak. “I was just -“

“S’alright. I got some stew goin’, that okay? I mean y’don’t have much of a choice, but I’ll ask anyhow,” he says with a wry chuckle. You simply nod in response. 

“Now go on, put your things down and sit ‘n get comfortable,” he waves towards the general direction of the kitchen table and the couch before turning back to the stove to stir the pot simmering there. You stand, feeling frozen still, panic threatening to climb up through your insides and completely take over. You still don’t feel safe, despite this man offering to warm you and feed you. How could you, you think, when you’ve been running for several weeks, trying to get away from the carnage that became your life. 

He eyes you, unmoving and frightened looking and sighs heavily. “I said,” he says, tension thickening in the air around you, “Sit.”

You clear your throat, desert dry and scratchy, and set your backpack by the door, slowly creeping over to the couch, not wanting to make this mystery man any angrier. You settle yourself down and the cushions feel like heaven, your legs and body achy from the lack of comfort you’ve had for weeks. You try not to show just how good it feels to settle into the soft, plush fabric, letting the cushions mold to your body.

“Good,” Joel coos as he glances at you from the stove. “Now that we’ve got you settled in, you got a name?”

You weakly tell him your name and he shows you the first little smile you’ve seen from him, nodding. “Gotcha. I’m Joel, okay?”

“O-okay.” You push the words out while you watch him stir the pot on the stove. You sit in silence for a few moments, thankful for the time to just catch your breath and think. Just one bowl of stew, and you’ll be out of here. You’ll ask if there’s a community nearby, somewhere that could take you in, then grab that information and run, not bother this man any more than you need to.

Joel walks over, handing you a cup of water that you shamelessly start to gulp down before he goes back and ladles some of the delicious smelling stew into a bowl. The second the scent hits you, your stomach rumbles loudly. Joel cracks a smile as he hears it and continues ladling, a brow quirked. 

“Hungry, huh?” he asks, walking the steaming bowl over to you with a spoon. You gingerly take it from his hands, being careful not to brush your still chilled fingers against his. You swear his eyes flash at you when he notices how avoidant you’re being, but he turns and walks back to the stove, getting himself a bowl as well. Joel settles down into a chair across from the couch where you sit with a weathered groan, just watching you for a few quiet moments. It does everything but put you at ease, your stomach twisting a little. You blow on a spoonful of stew before taking a bite, your mouth an explosion as it waters and takes in the delicious, rich, food. 

“Mmm,” you whine out, unable to help it. Your body wants to lunge forward, lap the stew up until every single drop is in your starved body and you can finally feel a sense of fullness again. You quickly take another spoonful, much too hot, and wince a little as it hits your tongue. 

“Slow on down, girl,” Joel says. “Let’s talk a little and it’ll slow down your eating.”

You just stare, noticing your body is trembling a little bit, and has been since you met Joel outside. You try to take a deep breath to settle your nerves, your legs so tensely pressed together that it's starting to hurt.

“You feelin’ afraid of me, that it?” he asks you, looking a little too self satisfied at the observation as he crosses his arms and leans towards you. His biceps bulge and stretch with the motion and you can’t help but find your eyes drawn to them, the way they pull at the soft flannel of his shirt. You feel your face heat up all the way to your ears and you blink hard, averting your eyes. 

“I- I mean… I don’t know you…” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

“I know,” he says, sounding more sympathetic. “Done some bad things in my time, so hell, maybe you should be scared of me. I ain’t a nice guy. But I won’t hurt someone like you, promise ya that.” His words are enough of a reason for you to hightail it out of here the first second you can, but why do you believe them? Why do you believe him?

“How d-do you know I’m not bad too? That I don’t deserve it?” His eyes narrow and his lip twitches into a smirk before he lets out a mocking little chuckle in your direction.

“Oh sweetheart, a man jus’ knows these things. You never hurt even a fly, now have you?” That smirk stays plastered on Joel’s face as he asks and it frustrates you how little of a threat he sees in you, how little fight you have left to give. Yet you can’t find yourself blaming him, you think. If you were facing yourself in his position you’re sure you’d look like as much of a feeble joke as you feel.

You frown, still unable to look him in the eyes for longer than a few seconds, and shake your head. “No… just for hunting…” you admit.

“Alright then. Y’don’t need to act tough in front of me, girl, got it?” Joel concludes, going back to eating his stew.

“Got it,” you respond quietly, letting yourself sink further into the couch as you feel your muscles slowly relaxing.

“Now tell me... what’s this all about? What’s a little young thing like you doin’ out here by herself?”

You bite your lip and sip slowly on another spoonful of stew. “I’m… uh…” you stutter nervously. 

“Spit it out now, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of here, hm?” Joel tries reassuring you, but his words keep coming out so gruffly, doing little to make you feel much better. 

You inhale a deep breath. “Okay…” You swallow. “I was in a… community. I lived there a long time. T-they’re all gone now, I think. We got completely overrun and so I ran.” You sniffle as your nose starts to run from the warmth of the house opposing the cold you’d gotten accustomed to. 

Joel leans forward a bit in his chair, taking a hearty bite of stew, mulling your words over. “Overrun how?” he asks simply, glancing at you, studying your movements, your body language, everything. 

“U-uh, hunters, raiders, whatever they are. Bad.. b-bad people…” You look down at your bowl, not wanting to meet the intensity of his gaze, afraid to fall into his strange, hard warmth. 

“Hm… awful fuckers, ain’t they,” he says, scratching a hand down his beard. “You got away, then?”

You nod and bite inside of your lip, taking another spoonful of stew to keep yourself occupied. “Y-yeah. I ran and ran… just kept… going. They took everything, took over all of our homes…”

Joel sighs, his eyes finally going a little softer. “‘M sorry to hear that, darlin’. You know if anyone is still alive?”

You shrug. “No…”

“Your family? They with ya at this community?”

“Oh.” You shake your head. “No. They… all, uh, passed a long time ago.” Why the hell are you being so open with this stranger? You don’t owe him your story, your secrets, any of it. But you sense the urge to share it, anyhow. Maybe you’re just that desperate for human connection right now. 

“Mm, sorry to hear it again. We all know that feelin’ in a world like this,” he replies thoughtfully. Your eyes widen a bit at the softness he’s showing you right now and you give him a tight lipped smile to show your own sympathy for his losses. 

“You feel up for tellin’ me a little more about the attack? S’okay if it’s too much,” Joel adds on, still studying you with an odd gaze, almost like he’s drinking you in, quenching some thirst he had. His hand twitches, almost as if to reach out to you, but he’s much too far from where he sits right now. 

“I’m not sure if t-there’s much to tell…” you start, but then you find yourself spilling out more details, feeling the freeing sensation of unloading your burdens onto someone else. You tell Joel your community was small but well taken care of, plenty of supplies and food, in an abundant time in its history the last few months. One evening everything changed, when an armed group of mostly men came in, a few women and children in tow, looking absolutely miserable, and they aimed their guns in the air and shot off a few rounds to get everyone’s attention. People came flooding out of their homes, trying to run, only to be tackled or shot down, forced to give up our food and belongings. You tried to hide for as long as you could before slipping out of the home you shared with an older couple who had been taking care of you since you were a teenager, Harry and Josephine. They’d urged you to run, run, run, so you did. Then came your lost days, where you had no clue where you were, when you’d find your next semblance of humanity. Just trying to head west, further and further from the bitter memories you’d now have to leave behind. Barren towns and wilderness passed you over the days, hardly seeing another soul as you hid from infected, spending your nights crying yourself to sleep when you had the energy. 

And now… here you were, sitting on Joel’s couch and eating stew. Unsure of what the hell you’d do next or where you had to go. You had been an orphan for a long time, but this felt deeper, like you were an orphan to the entire world, almost, like you had nothing to even call your own now. 

Joel sits patiently, watching you stumble on words as you tell your story to him, trying not to get too choked up as all the emotions resurface. How empty things had been, how desolate the landscapes to match your faintly beating heart.

He’s leaned fully forward now in his seat, stew somewhat forgotten in his lap as you finish your recounting of the last few weeks. He breathes in and out, a large, heavy sigh that fills the room. It’s still now, fully quiet for a moment. 

“You’re a strong girl for goin’ through all of that, you know that?” he says finally, eyes softer than you’ve seen them yet. 

You just look down, returning to your stew, taking a few bites now that it’s at the perfect temperature. You’ve stopped shaking now, your body warmed up and starting to recognize that you’re getting full. You can’t eat much, your stomach unable to handle more just yet, so you push the stew away, setting it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Yeah…” you say, not really believing it as you glance out the window to watch the late afternoon sun, glaring off the ground outside, light filtering through the trees. 

“You got somewhere to go? After you’re fed and looked over, of course,” Joel asks, his eyebrow shooting up.

You consider lying, just to avoid what you’re afraid he’ll ask you. What you’re afraid you’ll say yes to. You still end up shaking your head silently, clearing your throat. You feel a sting of tears behind your eyes, your whole body going hot with the need to cry, but a deep desire to not show that weakness to him holds you back. You sniffle and blink, studying the knots in the old wood floors.

“Hey,” Joel says, trying to get your attention, to make you show him your vulnerability. “Look at me, c’mon now.” You hear him shift in his seat, a small movement born of irritation as you refuse to do as he says.

You sniffle again and clear your throat, a shake of your head making your hair fall forward, covering and hiding you further. 

“I said look at me.” That stern tone of his is back, sending a shudder through you and fear rippling deep inside your chest. You flick your red rimmed, shining eyes up to his, meeting the dark brown stare, lines permanently etched in between his eyes from all his years of worry.

“Atta girl,” he coos, completely pleasant now. “I got you, okay? You can stay, if ya need. I got food, a home, a warm bed for ya. If you have nowhere else.”

One more blink sends the tears falling down your cheeks, fat and overdue as they slide down your dirty skin, leaving tracks. You sniffle and nod, suddenly feeling a rush of gratitude towards Joel. He may be a stranger, but he fed you, got you warm, and is offering just about the kindest thing he can right now - an invasion on his space, his personal sanctuary, all for a girl he hardly even knows. 

“Y-you’d really do that?” you ask, a little incredulously, like this is a dream you’re about to wake up from any time now. 

He nods, a half smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Satisfaction plastered there now that he’s swayed you in his direction. “I would. Now I don’t wanna hear another word about it. You need to rest, you’ve been through a lot.”

“T-thank you. B-but-”

“Not. Another. Word,” he practically hisses, flashing his eyes angrily before it fizzles out quickly. You can see him practically having to reign in his impulsiveness in the moment. “There ain’t anywhere else to go that’ll keep you as safe as here, I’m tellin’ you that now. You’d be fuckin’ lost out there.” He sits back with his arms crossed now, and you’re worried that you’ve truly upset him now, that unsettling look in his eye glinting again. He wants you to stay… nearly seems to need it. It scares you, yet you feel a tug, a pull, some form of intrigue wanting you to explore that need, understand just what he could see in you.

“I’m s-sorry… I just - you’ve already done a lot for me, and I’d hate to, well, impose, or something,” you say, trying to appease him. It’s mostly true, anyhow, that you do hate to take Joel’s food and time away from him. 

He stands up and silently walks the few steps over to the couch, sitting down next to you, turning himself towards you. It feels like every muscle in your body tenses at his proximity - it makes him seem even bigger the way he takes up his cushion on the couch, body sinking in deeply, his wide shoulders practically a shield to you right now to everything behind him. Something about seeing him up this close is sending you reeling, able to study the lines in his face, his strong, wiry beard streaked with a few gray spots. You flick your eyes over his face, hoping to not be too obvious, but needing to drink him in, learn his features.

“I’m gonna have you listen to me right now, okay? Make sure you’re listenin’ real good, sweetheart.” He pauses for a moment to catch your eye, reaching a hand towards you but resting it right next to your thigh on the couch. “I’m offerin’ somethin’ mighty nice to you, ain’t I? You were ‘bout to die out there, if I’m honest. Much longer and you’d be a goner, I think. Don’t you?”

He’s waiting for a real answer from you, you realize, so you nod, eyes practically unblinking as you hang on his words, a hot coil burning in your stomach as you feel uneasiness eat at you.

“Right.” He sighs quietly. “I’m not tryin’ to be mean, sweetheart. In fact, I care a lot, that’s why I’m tellin’ the truth to ya like this. You ain’t built to be on your own, can see that clear as day. So I’ll have ya stay here and get fed and get your bearings. And I don’t want to hear anymore about it.” 

Of all the things Joel has just said to you, the thing that is stuck in your mind as you turn it over, is the way he’d said he cares. He cares about you. Would that be such a bad thing to be cared for, even if just for a little bit?

You give him a small dip of your head, a shaky smile coming to your lips. “Thank you. I’m uh, grateful.” You’re not sure what else to say, feeling like you’re signing yourself away to something you don’t feel sure about. 

“Ah look at that - a smile,” he says, clearly feeling much more light hearted now that you’ve agreed to accept his help. 

You sit back a little, your muscles finally losing some of their tension and start to eye Joel a little more curiously. “S-so you just live here all by yourself?” you ask, wishing you weren’t still such a stuttering mess. The fact was, this man made you nervous, in a way that you weren’t used to. He scared you, but in a way that it drew you in, a magnetic pull you couldn’t quite explain yet. Something in him commanded respect, reverence, almost, without trying. It was mesmerizing to witness, completely scrambling your mind if you started to think on it too hard. 

“Mhm,” Joel nods languidly, finishing off his stew and then sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He eyes your bowl that’s only half empty and then flicks them back to your face. “Ain’t gonna finish?” he asks, sounding a little irritated before his face softens. “Probably can’t fit much in your little belly right now, huh? Shrunk right up when you didn’t eat much these last few weeks.”

You nod. “I-it was good, I just… I couldn’t finish. It started to hurt…”

His eyes flash with concern. “We’ll take it slow, then,” he says, a little smile creeping onto his face.

You had noticed his avoidance to say much more about himself, so you decide to try your luck and press him again. You clear your throat, trying to turn towards him a little more as well. “You live alone. Don’t you… do you ever talk to other people?”

Joel chuckles, almost condescendingly. “‘Course I do. Town not too far from here - Jackson. I go once and a while to stock up, trade ‘em for some stuff and they’re mighty hospitable to me.”

You nod, trying not to let his snide laugh and tone get to you too much, blinking away the sensitive little tears that threaten to fall again. Joel cocks his head suddenly, seeming to notice. “T-that sounds pretty nice,” you choke out quickly.

“Sorry if I upset ya. Guess you’re right, don’t get enough practice talkin’ to people,” he says a little lighter now, smiling softly again. Joel’s version of a smile seems to only be a soft upturn of his lips, not friendly by nature. It puts you at ease and unease at the same time, that smile of his, but you’d rather see that than the scowl he was sporting at you earlier today. He pats your thigh a few times, showing his apology, and you watch his large hands move on you, noticing they’re scratched and rough. A man’s hands.

“W-wait… Jackson… this town. It’s close by?” you ask, glancing back up at him, the wheels in your head starting to turn. 

Joel’s face falls in an almost dramatic fashion, the lines between his eyes and around his cheeks getting deeper. “Why d’ya ask?” he says, his tone short and frayed sounding, leaning forward again, practically glaring at you from under his eyebrows.

Your own face falls, jaw slack for a moment before it tightens back up. “I just… I want to get out of your hair as quickly as possible, I-I don’t want to be a bother. Could find a new community there, or something…” You feel quiet as a mouse, unsure of how to assert yourself in front of Joel - it feels like there isn’t space for it when you share a room with him.

Joel’s expression becomes more stern. “Didn’t I already tell you, girl, that I’d take care of everythin’?” he spits out, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You’re visibility tense now, your hands pressing into the cushions of the couch, ready to get up at any moment and bolt. “Y’don’t want to go to a place like that, so big, you’d be lost there, darlin’. Nobody to take care of you…”

He sits back a little, hands falling into his lap and an eyebrow cocked at you. “‘Sides,” he says, glancing out the window for a moment before studying you again. “Too far to go on your own. Can’t have you gettin’ lost in these woods again… look what happened last time, yeah?”

Maybe he’s right. You barely survived these last few weeks without completely losing your mind, and then your life, as he’s been so apt to tell you several times now. Joel… he saved you, and is offering you a place to stay, so the least you could do is be grateful for now. You could always convince him tomorrow, after you’ve had time to think and reset, to take you there, show you the way, and you can see for yourself if it’s a good fit for you or not.

“Y-yeah…” you stutter out, nodding. The look he shoots you has you choking out the next word before you can even think about it. “Yes,” you say more definitively.

“It’s settled then,” he says matter-of-factly, breathing in deeply, his burly chest rising, and then letting it out in a long, slow breath. “You probably wanna get some rest, yeah? I can set up the bed for ya.” Joel says, standing up and grabbing your bowl, taking it to the kitchen along with his empty one. 

“Do y-“ you start, standing up off the couch. 

“Yeah, I got two bedrooms, don’t worry.” His smile grows, liking that he found you predictable enough to know what you were about to ask. Your shoulders sag a little in relief and you give Joel more of a proper smile now, nodding your thanks.

“That would be great, then, yeah. And if it’s not too much…” you voice trails off and you stare at the ground, focusing your eyes on the pattern of the well worn rug underneath your feet. “Maybe a shower, bath, whatever you’ve got.”

Joel turns to face you and then walks back into the living area. He has a calm, serene expression, slightly lit up. “I’ll do ya one better. Get you some clean clothes to wear after that shower, too.”

Nothing in the entire world sounds better than what he’s offering right now.

You hiss loudly as the hot, steaming water hits your leg when you step in. Within moments, you’re basking under it, watching the dirt and dried blood from your various scrapes and scratches swirl down the drain for what feels like ages, finally seeing the water run clear as you lather up the threadbare washcloth Joel had left out for you and scrub yourself down. Every nook, every cranny, your scalp, face, everywhere you could get three times over. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so clean, even when you’d lived back with your community. You hum happily for a few moments, letting the water soothe you for just a while longer. You hoped Joel could forgive you for taking a little bit of extra hot water today given the circumstances.

Joel hears the water running from downstairs, his fists balling up and relaxing over and over as he sits on his favorite chair, his gaze facing the stairs leading to the spare bedroom and attached bathroom. He feels tense, rolling his neck, continuing to pump his fists open and closed. A feeling in the back of his neck, traveling down his spine and legs that he couldn’t ignore - an urge. He stands up an instant later, not bothering with his well-ignored conscience, and walks upstairs and through the bedroom door with careful steps as he still has on his boots. He presses a hand onto the brass doorknob, turning it slowly, ever so slowly, pushing the door open just an inch, just… enough.

His eyes fall on the shower curtain, a white cloth that perfectly shows your silhouette through it. The valleys and curves of your body move around, arms scrubbing yourself. Joel can smell the evergreen scented soap drifting through the steamy, thick air, watching your body move fluidly as you start to hum quietly to yourself and rinse off.

He wishes he could lie to himself, deny that he felt the blood rush straight to his cock at this little show he was watching. So content, so sweet, so vulnerable right now. Need consumes his every cell - the need to show you just how good you could have it here, to take every bit of you for himself. He grins, a hungry little twitch of his mouth, moving to shut the door when a floorboard creaks under his heavy boot, and he freezes, shuffling out of the way quickly.

You’re humming quietly when you hear it, just a distant sound, but enough to catch your ear. A creak of a floorboard, something you figure isn’t unusual for an old cabin like this, but you feel a shiver run down your spine and rush to turn the water off. You throw the curtain open, water dripping down into your eyes. You quickly rub your fingers over them and glance around the spacious bathroom to find… nothing. You sigh, shaking your head, nearly laughing at the relief you feel. You’re just being paranoid, you chastise yourself as you grab the towel off the hook, squeezing the extra water out of your hair and wrapping it around yourself, snuggling into the simple comfort of a fluffy towel as you dry yourself off. 

Your fingers freeze, running cold when you reach the door, noticing a few inches of space that has the door cracked open. You swore up and down that you’d shut the door behind you, giving you that extra layer of privacy in a stranger's home. It wasn’t possible that… no, you think quickly, shaking your head again. You have to stop being so damn paranoid - your brain is just in survival mode still, looking for threats that aren’t there. 

You step into the bedroom, surveying the heavy wood furniture - an extremely cozy, country feel to the room with large logs comprising the bed frame and a patchwork quilt draped over the top. You peer around, feeling somewhat squirmy at the realization you don’t have any clothing. Joel seemingly came in and took your dirty clothes while you were in the shower, failing to leave you anything clean. It made you feel that strange swirl deep in your stomach again, the one you kept brushing off.

This is a kind man. A kind man, got it? Positive thinking.

You decide to pull it together and head out and down the stairs to the living room. You feel your cheeks heat up, a hot heat creeping all over your body as you feel so exposed, standing in your tiny towel as you descend the stairs. Joel’s eyes follow you down, watching your glowing skin, so fresh and clean, hair dripping errantly, leaving water droplets on the floor in your wake. You see a flash of something a little cloudy and hungry in his gaze before it disappears just as quickly as he showed it. 

He isn’t saying a word, isn’t offering anything, so you swallow down your discomfort and clear your throat a little. “Er… I noticed there weren’t any… clothes… for me…”

Joel sits up a little straighter, putting down the book he’s been looking at. He offers you a smile devoid of much emotion and stands up, his eyes locking on your hips for a few extra seconds. “Shucks, sorry about that, sweetheart. Let’s get you something right now. Got your old clothes ready to be done next time I do the washin’.”

You nod, fighting the urge to chuckle nervously as he walks over and passes you, his arm brushing your damp, bare one before he heads up the stairs. You’re grateful you get to trail him, afraid of just how skimpy this towel is if he’d have insisted on following behind you. You follow him into the other bedroom, his bedroom, and it’s a little more decorated, some books and little wooden carvings on the surfaces, dirty laundry scattered throughout. He opens up a drawer and tugs out a tee shirt, handing it to you, then a pair of gray sweatpants and warm, thick socks. 

“These should fit alright for ya, honey. We’ll get you some more proper fittin’ stuff soon, just gotta have a look around this place. This’ll be nice and warm for ya f’now.” He seems more chipper now, clearly much more talkative than before, and you suppose you don’t mind the change too much. It’s only proving that your paranoia was completely unfounded, just a symptom of your current circumstances. You typically find yourself a pretty trusting person, enough to have gotten you in trouble before, but the events of the last few weeks have broken that for you, leaving you feeling like a shell of who you once were. 

You snap back to reality and take the clothing in your arms, nodding in gratitude. “Thank you. I’ll go, um, change.”

Before you turn, Joel’s voice booms through the air again. “Need anythin’ else to eat? Anythin’ I can get you?” He almost sounds hopeful, like he wants you to need something from him. His eyes linger on your body, leaving you feeling just as naked as if you didn’t have the towel over you at all. 

You shake your head nervously. “Er, if it’s alright with you, I think I just want to rest… A full night’s sleep in a bed sounds like heaven right now.” 

“Let’s get you on off to heaven, then.” He grins, letting you leave the room before trailing after you, waiting outside your door while you change into your clothes. You discover some women’s underwear in the drawers inside of your bedroom, gratefully putting on a clean pair before throwing on everything Joel gave you. It’s comfortable and dry, so you won’t complain about the fit or the style - you’d still be in your dirty, worn down clothes if it weren’t for him. 

You creak the door open to find Joel and thank him again for hosting you, only to see him waiting right outside in the hall. You nearly jump, your face completely giving away your tense surprise.

“Jus’ wanted to make sure you got to bed alright,” he says gently, explaining himself. 

“Oh…” You bite your lip. “I, uh, I think I’m all set. Thank you again, Joel, really, for everything.”

His smile brightens as much as you’ve seen it and his eyes look much kinder as he nods, a dip of his head. His hand reaches forward and takes yours through the frame of the door and squeezes it. You freeze at the sudden touch, his hand so warm and rough, calloused fingertips grazing over the softer skin of your hands. It sends your entire body into a fuzzy flash of heat for just a moment before it dissipates. He squeezes once more, thumb swiping gently over the back of your hand before he releases it. Your lips sit parted in shock, eyes a little wider and hand starting to tremble a little. 

“Anytime,” Joel replies simply, his face falling before he turns to walk away, leaving you standing breathless for several moments before clicking the bedroom door shut behind you. 

You jolt out of your sleep, a gasp of breath catching in your throat and dying out as you go to yell, finding your mouth tightly clasped by a large, warm palm pressing in.

“Shh, shh,” the voice comes, right near your right ear. You shudder involuntarily from the hot breath fanning on such a sensitive spot  and try to yell again, letting it die out as a whimper against the skin pressing on your mouth.

“Shh, it’s alright. I got you,” Joel coos, his voice coming out hoarse. “No yellin’.”

You squirm helplessly against his hold, realizing another arm is draped across your abdomen, holding you in place. Your body exhausts quickly, still half asleep as you feel your struggle die out. Joel’s hand across your mouth loosens slowly, relieving the pressure.

“You were havin’ a nightmare, darlin’. Shh… c’mon now…” His hand that had been against your lips ghosts up to your head, landing in gentle strokes against your hair. You blink a few times, heavy breaths through your nostrils now as you try to steady your mind and body. Your chest struggles against his heavy arm as it heaves, your body fully taut and mind trying to play catch up.

“W-what…” you murmur groggily, laying stiffly as Joel holds your waist, fingers brushing against your curves, pressing you close as his other hand still works tender strokes along your hair.

“Oh, sweetheart, glad I heard you, hm?” he practically whispers, his face nuzzling close to the skin right under your ear. You feel the tickle of his breath and facial fair, prickly and rough against such delicate skin. You squirm gently, trying to signal that everything is too tight, too much, too… confusing. Joel is lost in his own world, absorbed in the softness of the places he begins to touch, hand grazing from your waist to your bare arms, fingertips exploring hungrily under the guise of being caring. 

All he’d needed, alone and laying awake tonight, his body burning and resolve thin, was a simple touch. A chance to show you all that you needed, all he could provide for you. Only to help you, to take care of someone who couldn’t care for herself. You’d proved that much to him - you needed his guidance, his protection, his experience.

“What’re you…”

“Jus’ comforting you, darlin’. C’mon now,” he whispers, never once pulling back or stopping the exploring he’s doing with his hands. 

He runs through his list of reasons to convince himself why everything he’s doing is perfectly necessary before losing sight of all of it entirely when he strikes that sliver of bare skin where your tee shirt has hiked up a bit off your waist, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. His hand travels a bit higher, pushing the shirt up and grazing famished fingers across your ribcage and stomach. A small groan ripples across his chest, the vibration felt by where your body meets his. He surprises you next by tugging your shirt back down, covering the bare skin before returning his hand to your hip, pulling you closer. He’s a wall of pure mass, muscle underneath his soft belly and chest, a man who’s strong but still showing a bit of his age. You nearly whimper and shake, feeling a sickly heat coursing through your veins now.

“Mmm…” he mumbles in your ear, your own voice caught in a trap of fear lodged right in your throat. Equally afraid of the way you don’t know how this night is about to end and that you’re not sure you mind where it’s going. You’ve never understood men or their intentions, and never had anyone bother to teach you, no worked up teenage boys offer to show you when you were at that age. No, you were left to guess, giggled at by other girls when you couldn’t pick up on their meanings as they discussed their own secret rendezvous. This had to be everything they talked about, didn’t it? The way you could feel heat and energy practically pulsating off of Joel’s body, his noises anything but natural sounding as he hummed little groans in your ear.

“Y’just needed someone, sweetheart. Y’need someone to take care of you, don’t you?” he finally says, fingers still running their way across your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. You whimper quietly at the feel of it, how damn good it all feels. You don’t move, don’t speak as he goes on.

“Need a man like me, darlin’, y’do. I can see it - need me to take care of everything…” He mumbles similar sentiments repeatedly in your ear before bringing his lips right to your neck, just letting them graze, the wet but chapped skin of his lips pressing in gently on your pulse point. You try not to gasp, the feeling as pleasing as it is terrifying, finding yourself gripping the sheet tighter to try not to give yourself away, give him any kind of response. 

“Don’t you, honey? Need me to take care of you?” He sounds a little more desperate now, needy for the answer he’s searching for from you.

He’s broken you down to the point you feel tears stinging at your eyes, the long awaited emotional release you’ve needed sitting right there on the precipice, a small crack waiting to fully rupture. You can’t be sure if you nod, just imperceptibly, you think, but Joel’s body language relaxes against you as he leans his entire chest and torso into you even more, giving you a squeeze. You know then that he got his answer, just what he was looking for. You let the tears slip out, rolling down your cheeks, onto the pillow on one side, likely falling right onto Joel’s face or in his hair on the other. He seems to barely notice, just swiping them quickly off your cheeks before resuming his position wrapping himself tightly around you.

“Good, sweetheart… good girl, I got you…” 

You hear his breathing start to even out shortly after, steady rise and fall of his chest against your body, and you realize he’s dozed off. Like he got what he wanted and decided he could rest now. Your entire body relaxes, a careful breath whooshing out that you hadn’t even been aware you were holding in. His hand is still tangled in your hair, other one possessively on your hip, giving you absolutely no room to move. You’re not sure you want to anymore, anyways, never having had such strength covering you, cloaking you from all of the dark, sinister things that the nighttime holds for you.

If you’re going insane, feeling safe with this man who forced his way around your body tonight, then so be it. Why shouldn’t you let yourself feel safe for once? Let yourself feel less of that burden, turn it over to Joel? Your own turning wheel of thoughts starts to scare you, the little voice in the back of your head telling you what you already know and have been trying to ignore. The one little thing that you immediately put your finger on but were too scared afterwards to lift it back up and observe it closer.

You weren’t having a nightmare, no, not at all. You knew when you woke from one, as sure as the god damned sky was blue and the grass was green. It wasn’t a foreign concept to you by any means after what you’d been through in your life. And tonight… tonight hadn’t been one of those nights. 

dividers by @/saradika!

thank you @jupiter-soups and @huffle-punk for always beta-ing my shit and talking inspo with me. love you to the moon and back <3

#fic: smother #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel miller x reader #x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

[norrisleclercf1]

It’s Too Early

Pairing: Charles x Pregnant!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Tough pregnancy, premature birth, PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome), IVF mentioned, angst, fluff at the end

Synopsis: Being pregnant hasn’t been easy, especially when Charles is away for the season and can’t be with you 24/7 like he wants to be. So what happens when he finds out you went into labor from a reporter? Chaos, utter chaos

A/N: Wrote this morning and I picked PCOS because that's something I suffer with all the time, and felt the need to write a fic about now, everyone's experience with PCOS and the topics discussed in this are different, I did research and put my own hardships and feelings in this, I hope everyone reads with an open mind and enjoys this but also Dad!Charles who could give up Dad!Charles

Charles would kill for you; he really would. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to kill the FIA, who would refuse to let him sit out this season to be with you, his pregnant wife.

Finding out you were pregnant was the happiest day of his life, but soon it turned...not a nightmare, but a living hell. You were classified as a high-risk pregnancy due to polycystic ovarian syndrome, something you let Charles know when you first started dating.

He was there through the painful periods, the cramps that left you defenseless and laying in bed all day, to the doctor visits and the mood swings. Through it all, he was still with you and loved you more and more each day.

When you both married and settled down a bit more, the conversation of becoming pregnant came up. Charles knew the risks and had done research before bringing it up with you; he even explored other ways of having children. But you told him you wanted to try naturally and go from there before discussing different ways and seeing what happens.

After 3 years of trying and doing everything, even trying IVF, that damn stick showed that fucking plus sign. You sat in the bathroom for hours just staring at the positive test, and that's precisely how Charles found you when he came home. On the bathroom floor, staring at the test.

He can still feel the tile on his skin as he hugs and kisses you, calming your fears away from the worst thoughts in your head.

It hasn't been an easy pregnancy, from cramps to horrible morning sickness, to the doctors worried you might give birth way too early, even being put on bedrest for the rest of the pregnancy due to worries of preeclampsia. Charles fought hard with the FIA, saying he needed to be with you, but they refused to listen and told him he needed to race. You talked him off the ledge as he called to quit and stay home.

"Charles stop; this is ridiculous. You love racing; you aren't quitting because of me." You groaned, going in circles with your mess of a husband.

"No! What's ridiculous is that the FIA won't even see why my wife has a high-risk pregnancy and that I'm needed home, not driving in goddamn circles!" He snaps, slamming his phone down and pulling his hair.

"Char, breath." You whisper from the bed, in agony, simply because you can't get up and comfort your husband.

Charles, almost sensing your dilemma moves from the end of the bed to laying down next to you, placing his head on your chest, careful of your swollen breasts, knowing how much they've been hurting lately. No words are said as fingers run through his hair to calm him down and stop him from making a huge mistake.

"Charles, I'll have your mother here with me. Me and the baby are going to be okay. Listen, if anything changes, I will call you immediately. You can't miss this; you have a real chance this year and must show the world that Charles Leclerc will be a World Champion." Your words convince him as he lets off that familiar defeated sigh of his, making your smile grow at this.

"Immediately. Do you understand? I don't care if it's stupid like your back itches you call me." He bargains, making you laugh and nod in agreement.

Pascale has been staying with you for only a month, and you finally reached the safe zone, where if you did go into labor, it wouldn't be so dangerous for you or the baby. It was race day, and Charles was in Silverstone, needing to finish P2 or higher to challenge Max for the title.

It was a typical day as Pascale fixed you a light snack as you weren't feeling well, your lower back was hurting, and it felt like your pelvis had its own heartbeat. You didn't think much of it as it was a hot day in Monte Carlo, and you had read in books that it was customary to feel this, so you didn't say anything to Pascale to not worry her. The race was halfway through when the first real cramp startled you to the point you dropped your cup; thankfully, it was rubber, so it didn't break.

"Y/n? Honey, what's wrong?" Pascale was right there in an instant picking up the cup, looking over you.

"Just...a cramp, it's nothing." You mummer rubbing your stomach but flinch from how much it hurts to touch it.

"Y/n, when did this start?" Pascale asks calmly, knowing it was wise to keep you calm and not start to freak out because you might be in early labor.

"Last night, but it's picked up this morning. It's nothing, Pascale, honestly, just the baby moving." You try to reason, not wanting to jump straight to labor.

"Y/n, I'm calling for an ambulance, okay? I think you might be in early labor, and with you being on bed rest, they need to help me, alright." She mummers pushing your hair back, trying everything to keep you calm.

"Okay, okay." You repeat as the cramp passes, and you hear her on the phone telling them everything as you force yourself to pay attention to the race and not to the growing pit in your stomach that you might be in labor.

They get here fast as you breathe through another cramp. Tears start to flutter down your cheeks, the realization of you possibly in labor while Charles isn't here, but in the UK. They ask you question after question and share a look, a look that sets you off.

"No! No! I'm not in labor, okay? I'm just having some cramps, which is normal; I have PCOS; okay, nope, I'm not." You argue as the medics alert the hospital to your condition.

"Mrs. Leclerc, I understand that you are only 29 weeks and you're scared, but right now, you are in early labor, and we need to get you to the hospital as soon as we can, okay?" The friendly medic tries to reason with you, but you refuse to see reason.

"I'm sorry, but no. Charles isn't here; he should be here; I can't do this alone. I'm sorry, but I'm not going anywhere." You argue as Pascale packs your bags and looks over at you.

"Y/n, I know you are scared, but Charles isn't here right now, but he will be okay. I'll call him when the race is over and let him know immediately what's going on. But, please, if you wait, it'll be worse for you and the baby." She can reason with you, finally getting you to the hospital as you try hard to stay calm and not make things worse.

But of course, Pascale could never make the phone call as everyone was too busy keeping you calm.

Charles was on top of the world. He had won Silverstone and was only 4 points behind Max now. Sticky with champagne, he checks his phone, looking for the standard text from you, but not seeing a text from you, he hits dial, calling you. But, you don't pick up, making him call you again, yet again, you don't pick up.

He reasons you must be asleep, knowing you had been super tired lately, and his mother said everything was fine. You're eating normally and just sleeping or reading. He moves and takes a picture of the trophy, telling you he won it for you and the baby and he couldn't wait to get back home to you both. Sadly, he's pulled away from his phone to go do media even though he wants to head to the airport and go home, but he needs to do this first.

Only 4 more hours before heading to the plane, then another 5 to 6 hours before he's back home to you.

He makes it through all 5 interviews before coming to the last one, Pierre on his right and Carlos on his left as they all give their final interviews.

"Charles, amazing race. I have to say that it was fabulous to see you win this and to have your teammate and your childhood best friend up there. It must've been something." The reporter gushes, making Charles smile at how genuine the reporter is.

"Yes, um, having Carlos and Pierre be there next to me was something. I mean, the Red Bulls put up one hell of a fight, but we know not to get too comfortable and that we really need to start pushing it more and more each day so we can close the gap and pull in front of them." Charles smiles.

"Yes, this must be a wonderful day with you; with what winning Silverstone and your wife going into labor, you must be just on top of the world." Charles freezes, hearing the words come out of the reporter's mouth and let's put a nervous laugh.

"I'm sorry? My wife isn't in labor," he argues, starting to fidget and lick his lips.

''Really? Reports are that she went into labor at the start of lap 23 and has been at the hospital, your mother." Having cut the camera, realizing that Charles honestly had no idea.

"Nope, she's not, okay, she's not in labor. She would've called." he snaps, hands fumbling for his phone, trying to call you again. This time, it goes to voicemail, sending his heart plummeting to his feet.

"Alright, that's enough for today." Pierre voices and grabs Charles leading him away from prying eyes as he keeps calling you repeatedly.

"Charles. Charles, stop!" Pierre yells, snatching the phone away as his friend cries. Fear takes over Charles as he starts to imagine the worst. What if something was seriously wrong, and you went into early labor. You're only 29 weeks. That's 6 months. Yes, the baby would be okay, but would you?

"Come on, let's go to the hotel. Get your stuff, and you and I will fly out and call your mom. Okay, let's go." Pierre reasons, dragging his friend away and to the cars trying to calm down Charles.

'Pierre calls Pascale and puts her on the speaker; thankfully, the woman picks up after 3 rings.

"Why the fuck didn't you call me the moment she went into labor? I wouldn't give a damn if I was still in the car. Why didn't you call!" Charles rips out before Pascale can say anything, and Pierre groans, knowing that if the situation was different, the Ferrari driver's mother would bury his ass in the ground.

"Because Charles, I've been trying to keep her calm. She's freaking out because you're not here, and honestly, honey, I forgot, as I was trying to make sure your wife's blood pressure doesn't get worse; now, get here as fast as you can because she's almost fully dilated and she needs you Charles, and she needs you to be calm and strong for her because right now she's not." Pascale hangs up, leaving the car in a stiff eerie silence.

"Get me to the airport as fast as you can," Charles whispers, making Pierre nod to ensure he'd get there.

"I can't do this, Pascale; nope, I'm sorry, but I can't. It hurts too much, please, make it stop." you cry as your mother-in-law soothes you. She tells you Charles is on the way. But that did nothing to comfort you. It only made you more anxious about the fact that this would happen.

"Y/n, I know you're scared but Charles will be here soon, okay? But you can't stop pushing, okay? All these nurses and doctors are here to help you, ow let them." She urges as you scream out from another contraction.

"I want Charles." You sob, collapsing against the bed from exhaustion. This was too much for you, the pain, Charles, and everyone in the room; you can't do this.

"Baby!" A familiar voice cries out as the door swings open, and Charles runs in. His hair is messy, and he looks so bewildered you could kiss him, but all you can do is scream.

"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!" Making Pascale and everyone else jump, Charles just smiles and pushes everyone out of the way to get to your side.

"I'm sorry, I was on a plane, and my phone wasn't working." And lies, not wanting to tell the truth of no one telling him but a reporter that you were in labor.

"You're lucky I'm giving birth right now or so; help me go-" Your words get cut off by another contraction, making you grab Charles's hand and squeeze it so hard he'd thought it'd break.

"Okay, Mrs. Leclerc, we need you to push." the doctor instructs while Pascale slips outside, startled to see half the grid in the hallway.

"Come on, let's give them some privacy." Pascale smiles, wrapping an arm around Pierre as she leads the boys down the hallway.

"I love you," Charles whispers, kissing your forehead, not caring for a minute you are drenched in sweat.

"I love you too, but we're adopting or surrogacy next time." You cry as you get one more contraction, everyone yelling at you to push, and soon your cries are mixed in with smaller ones.

"He's here. He's here." Charles repeats, kissing you all over and making sure you are okay. He wanted to check on his baby, but first, he needed to ensure you were alright.

"It's a boy? We had a little boy." You whimper, leaning into Charles's chest as you cry in relief that everything went as smoothly as possible.

"He's perfect, Y/n, all ten toes and fingers, and god, I love you so much." Charles mummers finally kissing you while the nurse cleans up your son.

"Here you go." the nurse smiles, handing you your son, who cries his little lungs out but soon stops when he's placed on your chest.

"He'll need to go to NICU for just a night so we can go over everything and make sure there are no complications, but after that, he can come down here and stay with you, Momma." the nurse smiles, going back to help make sure your vitals and everything else was good.

'Charles, and you can't help but stare at your little boy while you start to feel that ache and tiredness settle in, but Charles holds you both, his entire world in his arms.

"We need a name," Charles whispers, making you hum in agreement.

"I've got the perfect one. Also, tell Pierre I say thank you for getting you here."

Charles blinks down at you, confused, but you just giggle.

"I can smell his cologne." Making Charles laugh right along with you.

You fell asleep after picking the name, and the nurses follow Charles to the waiting room where everyone is, Pascale the first to see her son.

"Everyone," Charles starts making the others turn their heads, Isa and Carmen gushing at the tiny little baby in Charles's arms.

"Meet Pierre Hervé Jules Leclerc." Charles announces, making everyone laugh as Pierre stands there stunned, looking at his best friend holding his son.

"Really?" Pierre asks, making Charles nod. "Of course, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have gotten here in one piece. Also, Y/n says thank you." Charles smiles but adds, "she could smell your cologne on my clothes." Making everyone laugh at this.

"Can I hold him?" Pascale asks, but Charles shakes his head no.

"Sorry, but he won't be held by anyone but us and the staff for right now; he's got to go to the NICU overnight, and frankly, I want Y/n to get a say who holds him first after us, Mother." Charles smiles, but Pascale just beams, seeing Charles transform before her.

"Say goodbye to all your uncles and aunts, Pierre," Charles whispers, laying him in the trolly as the nurse reassures him that he'll be fine and he can come up and visit if he'd like.

Everyone watches as the Ferrari driver just smiles at his boy and leans down, whispering something to the baby before pulling away and watching the nurses take him a floor up.

"What did you say?" Pierre asks his friend.

"We'd always love and protect him, and he's only allowed to root for Ferrari." He laughs, making Pascale slap her son on the arm, everyone joining in on the laughter, a memory no one would forget.

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 imagine #f1 2022 #f1 scenario #formula one #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles imagine #charles x reader #charles x y/n #f1 charles leclerc #Charles leclerc angst #dad!charles #tw: pregnancy #tw: premature births #tw: pcos #tw: rough pregnancy #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x reader

[throneofsapphics]

the ebb and flow of fate

Cazriel x f!Reader (Mor’s sister)

(part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (epilogue)

Summary: “Did you piss her off?” He leaned back, mouth curving into a smirk. The smirk quickly disappeared when Rhys explained what happened. 

“Tell her she can come on her own feet, or over my shoulder.” 

Word Count: ~6.2k

Warnings: eventual smut in later chapters, sexual assault, harassment, stalking, nightmares, light smut-ish (m/m, briefly described), light angst, liberal use of bargains, minors dni!

A/N: this was written for day 20 of my kink/angst-tober prompts but, my patience is limited and I needed to get this out of into the world and out of my brain for a bit. part 2 will be posted 10/20.

Something in her had been … off, ever since she visited a friend in the Autumn Court. Of course, they had all heavily protested her choice, but she’d been a friend of hers for years, and she firmly held her ground - insisting everything would be fine and that they didn’t know of her relation to them. 

It was driving all of them to the verge of insanity trying to figure out exactly what happened. Rhys gently probed against her mind once, and was immediately shut out - the walls going up like impenetrable iron gates, and a litany of creative curses were shouted down the hall. 

-

“How was your visit?” Mor asked hesitantly. She was curled up in an armchair, eyes quickly scanning the page, a full plate of food - likely a few hours old, still on the table beside her. 

“Fine.” Y/n replied, not looking up. The same answer she’d given everyone all week. 

“Any more details?” She probed. 

She slammed the book shut, looking up at her. “What else do you want me to say?” Her voice was low, and she could tell her anger was rising to dangerous levels. Maybe it would be worth provoking y/n’s temper, if only to get some kind of reaction out of her. 

“You won’t eat, you won’t talk to us, and you’re walking around like a gods-damned ghost.” 

She plucked a grape from the plate next to it, popping it in her mouth with an indignant look on her face. “Better?” Gods, she was going to kill her - sister or not. 

“I want you to tell me what the fuck happened before Rhys and I storm over there and kill someone.” Mor spat, rising to her feet. Y/n rose with her, throwing the blanket off, fists clenched at her side. 

“That’s not necessary.” 

“You can tell us anything, you know that right?” She tried to keep her voice gentle, soft even.

“I’m aware,” she snipped, “but that doesn’t mean it’s any of your business.” 

“For Cauldron’s sake.” She ran a hand through her hair, squeezing her eyes shut before leaving the room - in case she said or did anything she regretted. 

“Any luck?” Rhys asked from the end of the hallway. 

“Don’t act like you weren’t eavesdropping.” 

He grimaced, but turned to stride with her. “It’s been three days.” He said quietly, “Cassian and Azriel will be back tomorrow.” 

If anyone can get answers out of her, it would be those two. Even Amren couldn’t reach her. 

-

“Where’s y/n?” Cassian asked the next day. Mor looked to Rhys with a grimace. A shadow curled around Azriel’s ear. 

“In her room probably.” Mor replied. The same place she’d spent most of her time in. 

“Did you piss her off?” He leaned back, mouth curving into a smirk. The smirk quickly disappeared when Rhys explained what happened. 

“Tell her she can come on her own feet, or over my shoulder.” 

He relayed the message, and they all heard the sound of something slamming - along with a wince from Rhys. Mor figured she’d likely shouted something into his mind. Two minutes passed, and nothing. Cassian glanced at Azriel, and the two Illyrians rose - heading down the hall.  

“Good luck.” Mor muttered behind them and Rhys snorted. 

-

“What’s wrong with you?” Cassian’s voice echoed through the room as her door swung open - hitting the wall hard enough there might be a small dent. 

“Nothing.” She muttered, turning over in her bed and tugging the blankets closer to her. Azriel exchanged a look with him. 

“Get up.” Cassian barked. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Not happening princess.” He strode towards the side of the bed, ripping the blanket back. He was greeted by a book careening towards his face, one he deflected with a shield. “You can do better than that.” He tugged the pillow out from under her and she shot up to sit. His stance widened, feet braced on the floor - prepared for a fight. 

“Leave. Me. Alone.” Y/n said through gritted teeth. 

Cassian hummed, tilting his head as if he was debating it. “No.” 

“On your feet or over his shoulder, your choice.” Azriel said from behind him. His voice was flat and smooth. Another book launched - where the hell had it come from? And Cassian let it fly over his head, knowing exactly who it was aimed for. A low snarl came from the corner of the room, and Azriel strode up to stand next to him, forming a wall. Y/n, of course, didn’t look intimidated and no fear came from her - but he did see caution in her eyes. 

“You’re a brat.” The shadowsinger commented, with a tilt of his head. A predator assessing her, waiting for her next move. 

She sent him a vulgar gesture, and apparently Azriel was fed up because quicker than she could react, he had her slung over his shoulder, stalking out her door with a shield covering his wings. 

Smart, he thought as he followed, he didn’t doubt y/n would use that to her advantage. She’s done it before, raking her nails up his wings and nearly getting herself killed. 

He deposited her at the table, shoving her down into the seat next to him before pushing it in. Cassian took up vigil on her other side. If he thought she was angry before, she was absolutely fuming now - sending both him and Azriel a look that promised a slow, slow death. He rolled his eyes, he’d been on the receiving ends of that look frequently, and it didn’t phase him. 

“I thought it was over your shoulder.” Rhys’s voice flooded into his mind. 

“Azriel took care of it.” 

“Obviously. Did she throw anything at you?” 

“Yes.” A strained chuckle came from Rhys, and he felt his presence leave. 

She sat there, taking small sips of water and avoiding eye contact from anyone. 

Cassian let out a low groan before filling her plate with food. 

Mor and Rhys exchanged a glance, their eyes glazing over slightly. “We have things to take care of,” Mor gave an awkward excuse and they both rose. Leaving them to the wolves, then. Wolf - actually. 

“Don’t make me feed you like a child.” Azriel told her when the two were out of earshot. 

“You wouldn’t,” y/n countered, but didn’t sound confident. Azriel reached for her fork, and she snatched it away from him, spearing a piece of food instead and slowly raising it to her mouth. 

“Are you going to tell us what happened?” Cassian asked her. 

She ignored the question, choosing to eat small bites of food instead. 

“Or I can go find out for myself,” Azriel offered. 

“No,” she said too quickly. “Don’t.” 

-

She was confident Azriel would go find out what happened, and that’s not what she wanted. Regardless of whether he heard it from her or figured it out himself, it wouldn’t go over well. But, if they were here when they did learn there’s a better chance of her de-escalating the situation. 

“I’m not ready to talk about it.” Her hand shook, palms going clammy. She saw them exchange a worried look out of her peripherals and for some reason it incensed her further. She’d had enough of people worrying. Well, she fully knew she’d been acting like a ‘brat’ as Az would say for the last few days. But, in her defense they were all busy-bodies who couldn’t mind their own damn business. 

“When will you be?” Cassian sounded … gentle, almost. Like she was some breakable doll. She firmly placed a lid down on her anger, shoving it away. 

“I’ll let you know.” 

“You have until tomorrow night.” Azriel cut in. With a low and obnoxious groan, she slumped in her seat. “Finish your food,” he directed. A particularly nasty look was shot his way, but she relented. 

There’s not a doubt in her mind that he’d make her eat if she refused. The two of them were overbearing and annoying, but meant well. Y/n knew Rhys had sent them in, considering his, Mor’s and even Amren’s attempts had all failed. 

“I thought you’d be happier to see us,” Cassian teased, nudging his shoulder with hers. “It’s been two weeks.” 

“I am happy to see you,” she mumbled. It’s the truth, she was glad to see him, and if she’d actually known they were back she probably would’ve left to at least check they’re in one piece. 

As soon as she’d cleared her plate, Cassian looped his arm in between hers - not giving her a chance to go anywhere. “We’re training.” 

“I just ate.” She protested, but it didn’t work. Azriel trailed them outside, hopefully to make sure Cassian didn’t end up working her to the point she threw up. 

-

She realized the mistake exactly as it happened, both arms raising for a block - and her shirt lifting as well. Revealing two yellowing hand print shaped bruises on her waist. She forced her expression to remain still, to not react, and hoped they hadn’t noticed. But, Cassian stilled. Eyes focused on where her shirt now covered her stomach. Y/n could’ve taken the opportunity to strike him, but didn’t. 

“Where are those from?” He asked her, and she could tell he was struggling to keep his voice even. They’d caught Azriel’s attention as well, from where he was standing a few paces away from the ring. Based on the predatory look of rage in his eyes, he’d seen everything. 

“None of -”

“Don’t.” The general cut in shortly. 

“It’s fine.” She insisted, going on the defensive. 

“Is that … part of what has you upset?” His throat bobbed, and she could tell he was trying very hard to keep himself calm. Y/n turned and ducked out of the ring, returning her sword to the rack. There was no use in lying to them, they both always knew when she was. And when she badgered them for her tells, they refused. So, she took a deep breath and prepared herself to deal with the fall out. 

“Yes. I took care of it already.” Her voice shook with each word. 

“What happened?” Azriel asked mildly. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose, and tilted her head back to look at the sky. She couldn’t look at them now, and didn't want to. Didn’t want the two of them to see her break down. Instead, she focused on the stars above her as the story spilled out. One of her friends' brothers had cornered her. She was in her early-twenties, and had never been interested in anyone. Not in that way. When the … opportunity came up she went along with it for a minute - even flirted harmlessly with him, but when he pressed and tried to push her for more, tried to get her to kiss him, and when he refused … 

“That’s when,” she waved her hand down her stomach, “that happened. I told him to stop but he wouldn’t,” she couldn’t keep the tears from her eyes as the story kept spilling out, of how he grabbed her breast, tried to stick his hand between her legs. 

“And he called me a frigid bitch after I kneed him in the balls.” She finished weakly, forcing a laugh. The two of them had gone incredibly still, and she felt the tears drip from her cheeks onto her shirt. “I took care of it.” She insisted. 

The ‘taking care of it’ worked for a day. Until he came back, thinking she was just playing with him - that she liked the ‘playing hard to get.’ The worst was her friend justifying it, when she brought it up to her. 

“Well,” she hesitated, biting on her bottom lip. “You did flirt with him, how’s he supposed to know?” 

“I told him to stop.” Y/n insisted.

“Just try telling him again.” She sighed. “I don’t want to get in a fight with him.” She told him, again, over the next three days. 

“There’s more.” Azriel said. Gods, he always knew - even if she was just omitting something. “All of it. I need to hear all of it.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She yelled, the anger she’d kept a firm lid on spilling out as tears ran down her face. “I don’t want to think about it, I want it to be over.” 

Cassian strode towards her, wrapping her in his arms and bringing her close to his chest, rubbing her back and holding her through her sobs. Cool shadows swirled around her neck and shoulders, and she recognized Azriel’s way of comforting her. 

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, face still pressed into his chest. 

“None of that,” he replied, running a hand through her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

She snorted, pushing back against him. “You’re growing soft.” 

“Just for you,” he grinned but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

Y/n yelped as she was gently tugged away from him, instead bundled into Azriel’s arms, his fingers running through her hair and shadows still curling around her. Probably reporting her expressions even as he couldn’t see her face. “Can you tell me now?” 

She exhaled slowly. She wouldn’t get out of this, so she might as well tell him. “He just didn’t know how to take the hint. He thought I was playing with him.” Azriel tensed underneath her, and she scented the pure rage coming from both of the Illyrians and knew if she didn’t say anything else someone in the Autumn court would find their immortal life cut short. “I told him if he didn’t stop I would stab him.” 

“Good girl.” He murmured, but didn’t release her - instead holding her tight as if she might disappear at any moment. 

“Don’t -,” she took in a breath, “don’t tell anyone else.” She pushed back, tilting her head to see his expression. He looked troubled by it and glancing over to Cassian told her he’s feeling the same way. “Please.” 

They looked at each other, as if they were communicating something silently, and nerves hit her - crawling under her skin and swirling in her stomach. She took another step back, forcing Azriel’s arms to hang back by his sides. 

“We’ll make a deal, with a few conditions.” Cassian said, and strode closer to her, standing next to Azriel to make a wall formed of pure arrogance. She groaned internally. “If you don’t agree. We’ll tell him.” 

She crossed her arms, pressing her lips together. “What are they?” 

“Firstly, they’re non negotiable.” He waited for her nod before continuing. “You don’t visit them again. If you want to see her, she comes here.” 

“I’d have to go through Rhys for that.” He gave her a look, as if to say - “that’s your problem,” and she rolled her eyes. 

“Second. No more hiding.” 

“I wasn’t -” 

“Yes you were.” Azriel cut in, raising an eyebrow at her glare. “Rhys told us.” 

“He needs to learn to mind his business.” She muttered and Cassian snorted. 

“If he didn’t tell us, we would’ve figured it out. You don’t miss meals.” 

“I could have just wanted to eat in private.” 

“For three days in a row?” He crossed his arms. 

“Mind your damn business.” 

“Enough.” Azriel cut off the quickly budding argument between the two of them. He’s always been the mediator between the two of them - both ‘blessed’ with quick tempers. 

She wheeled on him instead. “And you have to promise not to tell him.” She needed to be very clear on that, otherwise he would take the loophole and exploit it. He looked conflicted, but ended up promising - unless it somehow escalates, but considering she’ll never see him again - she doubts it will.

“Is that everything?” 

“One more. Anyone does that to you again, you tell us.” 

“As long as you don’t tell anyone else without my permission permission.” They exchanged another look, and both nodded. She stared at them for a few seconds. “It’s a bargain.” 

She fought her smile as she was on the receiving end of twin glares. Apparently they hadn’t intended for it to go that far, but now she knew their word was good. 

“Brat.” Cassian muttered, but started searching for the tattoo. 

She shoved up her sleeves. Nothing on her arms. But, felt a tiny prick on chest, and strode towards the mirror, adjusting her shirt to see. Some kind of constellation was etched into her skin, spreading across her collarbones in a pattern she didn’t recognize. Azriel and Cassian had matching ones - it took them a minute to figure it out, especially with their leathers in the way, but small dots were interwoven with the tattoos already lining their chests. 

“It’s … feminine.” Cassian commented. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” she raised a brow at him. 

“Nothing wrong with it.” He quickly agreed. 

“I think they’re pretty,” she teased, poking his chest. 

-

“Did you figure it out?” Rhys asked later as the three of them met in his office. 

Cassian’s hand ran down his face. “We did.” 

“And what is it?” 

“We can’t tell you.” Azriel replied through gritted teeth. 

Rhys paused for a moment, before raising his brows. “You let her trick you into a bargain? I thought you would’ve known better.” Both of them bristled. Ever since y/n figured out what a bargain was, she managed to word things carefully enough they’d get wrapped into them. Rhys still remembers the first time he met her, back when she was a youngling and before they managed to get her out of the Court of Nightmares. 

“Mor said you could fly,” she whispered - low enough nobody else could hear. She looked up and saw the hesitant look on his face. “I can keep a secret.” She grinned. He gave her a quick nod. 

He saw her again, a year later - now seven years old. “Could you take me flying?” He gave a subtle shake of his head, but every time she saw him she would ask, and eventually he caved. 

“I’ll make a deal with you, you stop asking - and I’ll take you flying” 

“It’s a bargain.” She whispered, and Rhys winced as a small band appeared around his upper arm, a matching one on her. That’s not supposed to happen … she shouldn’t be able to make those without both parties expliciting saying it. 

They snuck her out the next day and took her, if only to keep anyone else from noticing the thin tattoo around her upper arm. He still remembered Mor half-heartedly lecturing her about the danger of making bargains - and not to go doing it with strangers. 

Another idea popped into his head. “Did she say you can’t show me?” 

Cassian winced. “I don’t-,” he turned to give Azriel a sharp look, “we don’t want to betray her trust. But it’s taken care of.” 

Rhys nodded. He’d have to wiggle it out of her himself then, even if that’s nearly impossible. Besides, if the two of them break her trust like that, and she finds out … that would be a fight he doesn’t want to be anywhere near. 

-

Mor promised to get her out of Hewn City, whenever she needed to. Y/n was eighteen when she left, when she moved to Velaris, met Cassian, Azriel, Amren, and started making friends in the city. She should’ve known any ‘friends’ she met living there … Y/n cut off that line of thinking, reminding herself it’s not her fault, in any way. But, her mind still swirls with all of the ways she possibly could have prevented it, or the different things she could have done. For gods sake, she’s told others countless times that it’s not their fault, and they’re in no way responsible for others actions, but she still gets caught in that spider web, in the dangerous abyss of her own thoughts caving in on her. 

“Where’d you go?” Rhys interrupts her and she blinks heavily. 

“Here and there.” She mutters, pushing some food around on her plate. 

“Anything you want to talk about?” Him and Mor have stopped questioning her as frequently, but still try to put subtle feelers out to see if she will respond, or open up to them. 

The words blurt out before she can think twice about them. “Can I speak with the priestesses again?” 

His entire body tenses, his shoulders tightening and eyes darkening. She’d just given him a very clear idea of what happened while she was away.

-

The priestesses. He can only think of a few reasons why she’d want to speak with them. It could be related to her past, but more likely to some recent events. Barely, he manages to keep his composure. 

“I’ll ask them.” His voice is short and he watches her worry her bottom lip. 

“Please don’t do-” 

“Anything rash?” He raises a brow, forcing a cool and neutral tone. 

“I took care of it.” She insisted. Similar to what Azriel and Cassian said. 

“Will you ever tell me? Or Mor? She’s worried sick.” Rhys knew it was a low blow, even as he said it. 

“I’m tired of … I’m tired of talking about it.” 

He wondered why she’d want to go to the priestesses, why she’d want to speak with them if she’s already sick of talking. But then again, he’s heard that sometimes they go into their offices just to cry or scream. Either way, he’s not going to deny her the chance, or that request. He knows without a doubt that they’ll agree to see her. They all love her there, and she spends a lot of her time studying in the archives. Technically that’s her official position in his court - to research, her mind is her greatest weapon. 

“Why don’t you ask them yourself?” 

“I wanted to make you feel useful.” He rolled his eyes, leaning over to flick her nose. She dodged it, swatting his hand away. “But if you’re going to complain I can ask them myself.’”

“Asking who?” Mor swept into the room, her eyes glimmering with curiosity. Rhys took that as his cue to leave, before he got caught into anything between the two sisters. 

-

Y/n mouthed ‘traitor’ at Rhys’s retreating figure, when Mor wasn’t looking. 

“I’m going to ask if I can speak with the priestesses again.” 

“Oh.” She paused, before sitting down on the couch next to her, stretching her legs out in front. “Anyone in particular?” 

She exhaled in relief, something Mor noticed but didn’t comment on. 

“Not Merrill.” Y/n muttered, drawing a laugh out of Mor. 

“Merrill has a good heart.” 

“I deal with her enough already.” Y/n groaned, leaning her head back on the cushion. 

“How is that going?” Mor switched subjects, navigating to safer areas. If she pushed too much on this topic … y/n might shut down again. 

“Slowly. Traveling between worlds, Rhys is obsessed with it and translating some of the old texts takes hours.” 

“Is he now?” She turned, interested, and gave her a small smile. 

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” 

“I won’t snitch.” 

“I won’t either.” She snipped back, but a small smile was on her face, and some mirth dancing in her eyes. She could’ve cried from relief - even if she has other things to think about now, about how she has a very clear idea of what happened. Part of her wants to lecture her sister about bargains, again. 

-

Y/n was forced to stop hiding, the tattoo pricking into her skin every time it thought she was being a bit too reclusive. Still, she wondered if it really was a fair bargain - their silence in return for; not visiting her again, not hiding, and telling them if anyone does that again. She supposes that could mean several things, and they never specified a specific timeframe on when she would have to tell them. In her desperation for them to keep her confidence, she’d done something foolish and doubted they would let her out of that anytime soon. If ever. 

The two of them can be just as tricky as she is, and just as likely to find loopholes. At least they wouldn’t use it against her with the intention to cause harm. She’d never make one of those with someone she doesn’t trust. Even if the wording is iron-clad, there’s always room for error. Most of the ‘bargains’ she’s made are always light-hearted. 

Like making Rhys take her to fly, even if it was the shortest gods-damned flight of her life. Two minutes, if that - and under the cover of dark, after him and Mor snuck her out of Hewn City. Her very first taste of freedom. She was always kept away whenever the Inner Circle visited. Still, she managed to sneak away from the guards, learning how to create diversions and somehow give the impression she was still sleeping in her rooms, enchanting her toys to keep moving, or a pen to keep writing, a book to keep flipping its pages. They never caught her either. She wasn’t even born when Mor left. In fact, she wasn’t born until after Rhys took up his throne. Born into a ‘cleaned-out’ Hewn City, and grateful for it - she doesn’t want to know what it was like before. 

Not many children were around, anyway. The friends she did make were the ones her parents encouraged her to, from foreign courts for the most part. People she’s unlikely to ever visit again. Technically, she could leave of her own accord - but that would mean whoever she’s visiting is going to have someone knocking on their door to drag her away. 

A knock sounded on the door as she slumped back against her pillow, and she could sense Azriel was out there. 

“Come in,” she called. There’s a fifty-fifty chance he’d enter anyway. 

The door swung open, revealing him leaning against her doorway. “I heard you went to speak with the priestesses.” 

Cutting right to the chase, then. “I speak with them every day. It’s part of my job description.” 

His eyes narrowed. “You know what I mean.”

She groaned, pushing herself up to sit. “You don’t need to haunt the doorway, you can come in.” 

“Last time I did, I recall a book launched my way.” 

She held up both hands, showing there were no projectiles in reach. He still looked cautious as he entered, and took up a seat in one of the armchairs, right by her favorite window. She swung her legs over so she sat on the edge of her bed, propping her forearms on her thighs. 

-

Azriel couldn’t help as his eyes shifted down ever so slightly to where her nightdress slipped down, showing the tops of the curves of her breasts. His gaze switched back up as quickly as possible, and somehow y/n didn’t catch the action - instead looking out towards the window. Good, the last thing he needs is to start ogling her, to give her the impression he’s coming onto her. There was something else he could do. He’d need to speak with Cassian. 

“I’m proud of you,” he offered instead. Her head snapped, back to look at him. Her eyes were wide and he fought the urge to shift under her gaze. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, her lips turning up into a soft smile. A shadow curled around his ear, happy, happy, happy. It sang. 

“What do they tell you?” She tilted her head, eyeing it. 

“That you’re happy,” he said honestly. 

She blinked twice, lips curving into an easy smile. “I suppose I am,” she finally answered. 

“You should get some sleep.” He’d noticed the bags under her eyes, how she still seemed exhausted and worn down throughout the day. Azriel had told Cassian he needed to stop dragging her outside and beating her into the ground every day. He’s aware healing is different for each person, but it had been a month since she returned, and his worry only grew. 

“That’s rude.” She frowned, but glanced at the mirror across from her bed. Interesting placement. “I do look like shit.” 

He snorted. “You look tired, there’s a difference.” 

“Sleep hasn’t … been easy.” He could tell it cost her something to admit that. Stubborn pride, just like her sister and cousin. And the rest of them, he supposed. 

“Nightmares?” He prompted, and she nodded. He wouldn’t pry further, but made a mental note to send a shadow in later, to keep watch on her. Maybe it was an invasion of her privacy, but he didn’t particularly care. “I’m right down the hall,” he jerked his chin towards the door. 

“I’m aware.” Another shadow curled around his ear, stay, stay, stay. “Is it too nosy if I ask about that one?” She teased. 

“Maybe.” 

She held her hand to her chest in mock surprise. “I suppose it’s your job to keep secrets.” 

“I recall someone making a terrible bargain to keep something secret.” 

Her face dropped, and he got the impression he said the wrong damn thing. “They’ve already figured it out.” She mumbled, eyes avoiding him. He hated that, hated when she wouldn’t look at him. 

“That’s not a terrible thing.” He fought the urge to rub the back of his neck. He’s never been great at comforting, usually Cassian’s the one to do these kinds of things. Still, he found himself walking across the room, taking a seat next to her. On instinct, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her into his side. 

She froze, went still for a brief moment, and he was about to move away when she leaned into him, her body relaxing. A few of his shadows swirled around her neck, and she hummed in content. 

Another one curled around his ear, happy, stay. Maybe, for a minute or two. 

-

Cassian went looking for Azriel, he wasn’t in his room - or downstairs or anywhere to be found, and tracked his scent off to y/n’s room, of all places. The door was already parted, and he nudged it open with his foot. Y/n was curled into his side, sound asleep in an awfully uncomfortable position. How tired did she have to be to sleep like that? Almost sitting up. 

Azriel turned his head to look at him, his expression almost saying ‘I have no idea how I got here.’ He held a fist up to his face, fighting back a laugh, and ignoring his glare. He stalked over towards the duo, ignoring Az’s glare as he shook y/n’s shoulder. 

“Stop holding him hostage.” He watched as her eyes opened, half lidded with sleep. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, hand coming up to hide a yawn. 

Azriel moved his arm away, even if he seemed reluctant to do so, and he pushed back her shoulders so she’d actually lay down. “I don’t want to hear any complaints if your back hurts tomorrow.” 

“Fuck off.” She yanked the blankets back over her, burrowing down into the pillows. It took barely a minute before she was sound asleep again, her breaths evening out, mouth slightly parted in sleep. Peaceful, she looked so peaceful, even with the bags still lining her eyes like horrible bruises. 

Azriel tapped his shoulder, and he realized he’d been staring for a while. They quietly left, gently shutting the door closed behind them. 

“You’ve gone soft.” He told the other male after they were out of earshot. 

“I was just … comforting her, and she fell asleep.”

“Must be really tired, then.” 

“She said she’s having nightmares.” 

Mother above, Cassian wanted to storm the autumn court and bring her back that asshole’s head as a gift. In fact, he’d been debating it for the last few days - but, if anything it would distress her further. Y/n’s never been a violent person, in contrast to the rest of the inner circle. A good contrast. She thought he’d been training her more just to keep her from ‘hiding,’ but his mind was swirling with what else could’ve gone wrong, and if she would have been able to defend herself. Or why she threw herself in whole heartedly, pushing herself harder than ever. 

“She’s been more ...” Cassian pressed his lips into a tightline, glancing behind him to make sure y/n wasn’t behind. “Dedicated, training wise.” 

“I know.” Azriel replied quietly. He couldn’t shake the feeling there was something else they didn’t know.

-

Her tattoo pricked at her as she opened the third letter in the past month. Addressed from her friend, like the last two, but something was different about this one - her name written differently, a small curve to the letters. 

Her eyes scanned the page, picking out the key phrases. 

I miss the fun we had. I know how much you enjoyed yourself. 

You must, should visit at your earliest convenience. 

There was only a general threatening atmosphere to the words - nothing outwardly against her safety. Only him … reminiscing on the past events, in uncomfortable detail. Harmless, she decided, even if her subconscious screamed against her. No pain ripped through her magic, also some guilt crept into her at the feeling - she was hiding it, using a loophole to get out of the agreement, not honoring the spirit of it. 

With a low exhale, she justified it to herself, no need to worry the two of them - they were busy enough as is. Besides, she couldn’t trust them to keep their cool. The guilt would multiply if she knew violence was brought to her friend's doorway. She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, and crumpled the paper - shoving it in a drawer and reminding herself to burn it later. It was dark, the sun already dipped below the horizon - only vague rays of pink and purple peeking up past the horizon. Her stomach grumbled, loud enough she snorted. That’s a clear signal she needs to grab something to eat. 

She slipped out her door, closing it behind her with a gentle snick. She kept her footsteps as silent as she could as she trailed down the hallway, but she heard … moans - and groans coming from Azriel’s room. Did he have someone over? A small tinge of hurt filled her - not that he was hers, or she had any claim to him. Or Cassian. Why had her mind gone to both of them? “Ridiculous,” she quietly chided herself. She could manage to walk by the room, keep her eyes set right ahead - no need to look at the door or pause, she wouldn’t be nosy. 

Her feet moved quickly, and she spotted the cracked open door in her peripheral, cursing him. Eyes forward, right ahead. No need to look. 

But, she made the mistake of looking at the window, figuring it would be harmless. 

Her mouth parted in shock as she saw Cassian, pressed back against Azriel who had one arm wrapped around his front - palming him through the leather pants. They were both shirtless, muscles toned and gleamed with a light sheen of sweat. Azriel’s other hand was fisted in the General’s hair, their lips crashing together in a violent and passionate kiss. 

She hadn’t realized she was staring, arousal starting to creep into her, until a shadow curled around Azriel’s ear and his head snapped towards her. Cassian quickly followed, and she let out a small yelp - going bug eyed and taking off down the hall. She was not supposed to see that. Not at all … Mother above they need to close the damned door. Arousal flickered through her as she paused at the end of the hall - way out of range, bracing her hand against the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed away the feeling. She couldn’t want them. They were perfectly unavailable, and together, at least in some sense. 

Did Rhys and Mor know? She wouldn’t be the one to tell them. Her mind flashed with more images;

Azriel panting as Cassian knelt in front of him. Azriel hauling him to his feet - throwing him over the side of the bed … 

“Stop it.” She muttered to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose and darting her gaze around the hall. No one to witness, good. She couldn’t remember why she left her room, but she wouldn’t be returning for a while. 

-

It shouldn’t have, but getting caught - and by her, and feeling her arousal from the brief moments she watched them … it spurred him on, sent him deeper into that state of building pleasure. 

She didn’t know they already knew she was there. Azriel  wanted to see how long it took for her to say something, or if they’d have to act first.

“We should invite her back.” Cassian said, bruised lips frowning. 

“Do you want to scare her off?” Azriel asked incredulously. They had actual albeit vague plans for this. To  come in stages, how to trigger various emotions in her. 

“No.” He muttered, entwining his hair at the nape of Azriel’s neck.

“Good boy” Azriel teased and his friend grunted, throwing a half-hearted punch his way. Cassian stiffened under his hand. “You like that?” His teeth nipped at his neck as his hand slipped under his waistband. 

“Do we talk to her about it?” Cassian asked, an hour later - hair messed, cheeks flushed, one hand braced on the doorframe. 

Az propped himself up from where he was still laying in bed. “Let her dream about it.” 

#acotar fic #cazriel x reader #cazriel x y/n #cassian x azriel x reader #cassian x y/n x azriel #azriel x cassian x y/n #azriel x y/n x cassian #azriel x reader x cassian #cazriel #cassian x azriel #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader x azriel #cassian x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #acotar imagine

[itsphoenix0724]

Promises (Rhysand x Reader)

Summary: You don't argue with your husband often, and never anything as serious as this. However, some things may be too hard to come back from.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of Rhys' trauma from under the mountain

Word Count: 1.7k

Part 2

A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first time writing for Rhys, but I apologize; this isn't the happiest thing! This takes place during ACOMAF, and I tried to keep it canon accurate. I may have diverged a little though! I really just needed to get some angst out from first week of school stress lol. If you ever want to interact with me my requests are open! As always constructive criticism is very welcome! I tried to makes this a realistic portrayl of real feelings and emotions. I hope you all enjoy even if it stamps on your heart a bit <3

You’re sitting at the dinner table in the Townhouse, nursing a glass of wine, when you feel your Husband’s power rumble into your bones. It normally feels comforting to you, but now all it does is further the knot of anxiety growing in your stomach.

It’s been a long week. 

It was the first time that Rhys had called in his bargain with Feyre. You’ll always be eternally grateful for what Feyre did for your family, for your court, and the entirety of Prythian. It still didn’t stop the ugly jealousy that clawed at your insides at Rhys spending the week away from you with her. Especially after you learned about the dancing. You knew why it had to happen, you really did. He had explained everything to you in the tearful reunion after he returned from under the mountain. 

You hope Amarantha burned in whatever hell she crawled out from. 

“How was your first week,” you take another gulp of wine, trying to drown the spiders crawling up your throat. 

“I think she’s making some progress. Tamlin isn’t even teaching her how to read! Can you believe that? Even after he saw it almost kill her and his supposedly beloved emissary.” He rubbed out the crease forming between his eyebrows, maneuvering around the kitchen as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. “She was paper thin and so so pale.” he shook his head as he knocked back the liquor. 

“You didn’t come home the whole time.” You tried your best to keep the venom tamped down in your voice, you weren’t even really angry just confused. Judging by the way the muscles in his back tensed your endeavor had not been successful. 

You knew he would have to call in this bargain eventually you just didn’t expect him to ignore you the entire time she was here. He could’ve taken you with him, you had even expressed interest in meeting Feyre. You had wanted to thank her personally for everything she did to you and extend an olive branch for her time in your court. Rhys had shut down the idea immediately because he thought she might have been overwhelmed. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he turned around and looked at you from his spot leaning against the counter. You didn’t look at him, staring straight at the grooves on the table. You sensed the defensive tone immediately. Rhys almost looks like a cat with all the hair raised on its back. Feline eyes sizing you up like he’s about to pounce on you.

“I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have come home to even sleep. When I tried to reach you mind to mind your shields were up.” Your nails dig into the wood, leaving crescent marks in the pine. Rhys doesn’t have an answer for that when you meet his eyes. It almost looks like he’s looking through you instead of at you. 

“I didn’t want to leave her alone in case she tried to jump out a window.” He says the answer matter-of-factly. It’s the same tone you heard him use during the conferences he held with the citizens. He wasn’t exactly brushing you off, but it didn’t feel like he was listening to you either. 

“Why couldn’t you have just told me that?” Your voice cracked. You have been married to Rhys for almost one hundred years. You could tell when he was being shifty, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something from you. Judging from that regretful look in his eye you were correct. 

“I thought you would react poorly. Clearly, I was correct.” The clipped tone is enough to send a white-hot bolt of anger through your body. 

“Do not blame your poor communication skills on me Rhysand.” The glare you fixed him with could have brought the monster that lurks in the bottom of the library to its knees, but Rhys just met your eyes with a steeled look of his own. 

“She needed help. She was begging somebody to come rescue her. She was withering away in the Spring Court! You know how many times I’ve been pulled from bed because she’s vomiting during the night-” Rhys sounded exasperated. But you were tired, so tired. 

“You’ve barely come to bed since you’ve been back.” Your voice was hardly more than a whisper, but the deafening silence that followed your words made it sound like an explosion. You knew it was a low blow. Rhys sometimes couldn’t stomach sleeping in your bed after what Amarantha did to him. After he was startled awake one night a bolt of his power shot your sleeping form out of the bed because, in his nightmare-filled haze, he had mistaken you for her. He had felt awful, and now mostly slept in one of the guest rooms in fear that he would cause serious damage to you. You had tried to convince him, but he knew how powerful he could be, so you relented. 

“You don’t get to throw that in my face right now.” The growl that came from your husband sounded like cold black death. “She needs to be trained. She needs help-” all the pent-up emotion started to boil over inside you. Your airway got smaller, white noise was sounding through your head, and your eyes couldn’t focus on a spot infront of you. 

“I DO NOT CARE WHAT FEYRE NEEDS!” the boom in your voice surprised even you. Rhys took a step back, you rarely even raised your voice, let alone yelled at him. His eyes widened, but his flood of emotions quickly matched yours. 

“SHE SAVED ME! I PROMISED TO KEEP HER SAFE!” The way Rhy’s voice ricocheted off the walls made you flinch. The pure night-kissed power had stolen the warmth from the room and all the air from your lungs. 

“You made promises to me too. Do you remember that?” your voice echoed out with calm fury as you slipped your ring off your finger and held it up to the light. “Do you remember the promises you made to me when you put this ring on my finger?” You didn’t even know where the rage was coming from, You weren’t angry, but it grabbed ahold like cold unforgiving ocean waves and kept pulling you farther into the eye of the hurricane. “You pledged to me your undying loyalty, your faithfulness, your honesty.” That last word coated your tongue in acid. 

It burned you and Rhys as it left your mouth. 

“Do you truly believe I have been unfaithful to you?” his voice grated out like shards of glass. However, in your current state, it seemed more condescending than questioning. 

“I believe you are not being honest with me. I have been married to you for practically 100 years, and have known you even longer. Do you think I don’t know when you’re not telling me something?”  You shot up from your seat and slammed your wedding ring on the table. His violet shield slipped for just a moment to see the hurt flash in his eyes. You haven’t taken that ring off since he gave it to you. 

“You are being irrational.” Rhys tried to step towards you, but you only backed away from him, shaking your head as tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Why are you being so secretive about Feyre? She is engaged Rhys-you took her from her wedding. If she truly needed help why not bring her to Velaris? Why not let her meet me? Why not let her be happy with Tamlin?” The questions kept pouring out but the protective growl Rhysand made at your last statement had you recoiling. He had given himself away. He obviously knew it too, as he tried to step towards you. The tears kept pouring out as you shook your head. “You need to tell me what’s going on. Right now.” Rhys finally hung his head in defeat as he slumped into one of the chairs. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as he stared at your trembling figure from the other side of the table. 

“She is my mate.” Your eyes widened in horror. It felt like the dinner you made earlier tonight was going to make another appearance on your kitchen floor. “She is my mate and I don’t know what to do.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know what to do?” Your voice was shaking with scarcely contained fury as you stormed up to the table. “I am your wife. I am your people’s queen. What more is there to think about? I thought you loved me.” A new wave of tears washed over you, and you swear you could hear your heart breaking. It was so loud. You wonder if Rhys could hear it too. 

“Of course I love you!” he looked at you with desperation and pleading in his eyes. “It’s just more complicated.” You shook your head at him as your sobs finally flowed out of your body. 

“It shouldn’t be complicated,” you heaved out through the tears “You promised to choose me every day. If you can’t do that I can’t be here.” You turn from the table and march up the stairs. You distantly hear Rhys get up and follow you to your room as you shove clothes inside a bag. 

“What are you doing? You’re not leaving, are you?” His eyes widened in horror as he tried to grab the items out of your hands. “Darling-”

“Do not call me that right now.” You manage to sniff out the words behind the tears. “I just can’t be here if you cannot choose me. There shouldn’t even be a question.” 

“Where will you go?” He at least had it in him to sound concerned about your well-being. 

“I don’t know, anywhere but here.” You shoved the last thing in your suitcase and winnowed away without another word. You left Rhysand in your house, with your ring sitting on the table. He found himself sitting at the kitchen table for the rest of the night, nursing a bottle of whisky and running over the cool sapphire with the pad of his thumb. He didn’t know if you were ever coming back. He didn’t know where you went. 

What the fuck had he done?

#acomaf #acotar #acowar #acotar imagine #acosf fanfiction #rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand imagine

[iiwontgiveuponmilkk]

Subspace | F.W.

summary: *requested* she spent the day purposefully teasing him and getting on his nerves with only one thing in mind. fred fucks her into subspace and takes care of her, she got a little more than she bargained for, not that she's complaining.

word count: 2075

warnings: straight smut, dom!fred, teasing, some fluff, okay honestly it's straight filth

notes: so excited to have a request after such a long time! may change the gif, can't find the right one... also may update this one again, it feels a little short

minors dni. 18+.

masterlist

She was driving him mad, absolutely mad. She waltzed into the shop around noon that day to bring him his lunch. The lunch he would have never forgotten if she hadn’t decided to tease him from the moment she woke up. She decided to join him in the shower this morning, wrapping her arms around him from behind. He thought it was cute at first, then she was gripping his cock in her hand. She waited until a groan fell from his lips before she released him and slid out of the shower. He had turned, reaching out to grab her and pull her into him, but she had managed to slip just out of his reach. He went through the morning frustrated, thinking about what he would’ve done if he wasn’t already running late that morning. And here she was now, a tiny little skirt on that was barely longer than his jumper that she wore. His eyes drug up her body, finding her smiling innocently at him when he met her eyes, batting her eyelashes at him. “I brought your lunch, seems you forgot it this morning, Freddie.” She handed him the small bag, a blush on her cheeks. He grabbed her arm as she turned to leave, pulling her against him. “And what are you up to now, love?” He whispered in her ear, nipping her earlobe. “N-nothing, just making sure you eat today.” She smiled, trying to hold her composure. She gave him a sweet smile, distracting him as her hands moved to his waist. Her fingers hooked under his belt, pulling him against her. She rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him. “You might want to eat that alone.” She bit her lip, a mischievous look twinkling in her eyes. His hand snaked around her waist, “and why is that, love?” The way he looked at her sent a shiver up her spine. She was sure he would take her right here and now if the shop wasn’t full. She let her fingers ghost over his growing bulge. “You’ll see.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, wiggling out of his grasp and leaving just as quickly as she came in. 

Fred had left a few minutes early, telling George he would close up tomorrow. He had stormed into her flat, finding her cooking dinner. “Oh, hi love.” She grinned, her smile slightly falling as he stalked over to her. “I see you’re still playing your little game.” He shook his head, looking her over. The skirt from earlier was gone, leaving her in just his jumper. He pulled something delicate and lacy out of his pocket, dangling it on his finger. “Did you misplace these? Hmm?” He raised a brow, watching her bite her lip. “I-” She started, only for him to cut her off. “You what, love? You just wanted to tease me all day, is that it?” His hands were on her hips, lifting her onto the counter. His hands slid over her thighs, pushing her legs apart. A whine left her lips as he drug a finger through her folds. “Have you been this wet all day? Just waiting for me to come home?” The only answer that came from her was a moan as he slid a finger into her. “I really shouldn’t be rewarding you.” His voice low as he thrusted his finger into her, slowly working in a second. She rocked her hips forward, trying to get him to go faster, to give her more. “Freddie, please.” She whined as he pulled his fingers out of her. “Not a chance, love.” He lifted her off the counter, gently pushing her down on her knees. She looked up at him as he removed his belt, unbuttoning his slacks. She slid her hands up the front of his thighs, her fingers grasping the waistband of his slacks and boxers, tugging them down. His hand wrapped around his dick, giving it a slow pump. His other hand ran through her hair, grasping a fistful of her hair at the back of her head. She wet her lips, looking up at him. Fred gave a quick tug on her hair as she slid her hands up his thighs. Her left hand gripped his thigh as she spread her fingers. Her other hand wrapped around his dick. She ran her hand up his length, brushing her thumb over the tip. Fred reached out, lifting her chin to pull her gaze back to his. He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “You look so good on your knees for me, baby.” He smirked, gently pushing her head forward. She parted her lips, taking his tip in her mouth. A small groan came from him when she swirled her tongue around him. Her hands came to rest on his thighs when she started to move. He let her go at her own pace, but soon realised she was still teasing him. The slow strokes of her tongue and shallow movements, and the look in her eyes when she looked up at him. He grasped her hair tighter, thrusting his hips forward. The moan that fell from her lips as he fucked her mouth made his head fall back. He pulled her off of him when he felt himself getting close. His fingers left her hair, grasping her chin gently as she stood. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. She tangled a hand into his hair, the other grasping his shoulder. His hands slid down her body, grasping the back of her thighs as he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He nipped her bottom lip before swiping his tongue along it. She parted her lips, her tongue brushing against his. 

She gasped when Fred dropped her onto the bed. She pushed herself up on her elbows, looking up at him. “Are you ready to behave?” He looked down at her, holding her gaze as she nodded. He shook his head as he began to unbutton his shirt. “Use your words, princess.” He slid his shirt off, watching her as she pulled his jumper over her head. “Yes.” She reached out for him as he moved over her. He used his knee to push her legs apart, his eyes dragging up her body. “Look at how wet you are for me.” He smirked as he got to his knees at the edge of the bed. He grabbed her ankles, yanking her down until her hips were at the edge. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, nipping the skin before he moved down her leg. She watched as his mouth moved closer to her pussy. Each nip seemed harder than the last. Her head fell back when he pressed his tongue to her clit. His name fell from her lips when he plunged two fingers into her. She felt herself getting closer, then he dragged his teeth over her clit. She yelped at the feeling, her eyes rolling back when he sucked her clit between his lips. He curled his fingers, her toes curled, a moan leaving her lips as she clenched around his fingers. He pulled his fingers from her, he looked up at her as he pushed his fingers into his mouth. Her cheeks heated at the sight, causing him to smirk. He climbed over her as she scooted up the bed. She leaned up, kissing him. She pulled him down as she laid back on the bed. “You’re in for it, love.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, sucking a mark into her skin. “You’ve had me thinking about being inside of this pretty little pussy all day.” He gave her no warning as he sank into her. He tangled his fingers into her hair at the back of her head, yanking down. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he thrusted into her. She gasped when he nipped at her collarbone. He maintained a tight hold on her hair. The pleasure mixed with small kisses of pain was starting to overwhelm her. Her nails dug into his skin when she felt the warmth building in her stomach. She moved her hips to meet his, trying to reach her orgasm. Fred kissed her hard, biting her bottom lip. He pressed his forehead to hers as she came, lewd moans falling from her lips. 

He flipped her over, pulling her hips up so she was on her knees. His hand moved up her back, pushing her chest down to the bed. She turned her head, reaching to move her hair out of her face. Fred grabbed her hands, pinning them above her head as he leaned over her. “Let go, love.” He whispered in her ear, rubbing his tip through her folds. She whined, pushing her hips back when she felt his tip at her entrance. He let go of her hands, leaning back. She gasped when his hand collided with her ass. His palm smoothed over the red handprint. “What did I say, princess? Let go, let me take care of you.” She gasped as he slammed into her. “F-Fred.” She moaned, “I-i.” Her words lodged in her throat as her breath hitched. He slammed into her relentlessly. She knew what she was doing earlier, teasing him. She just wanted him to come home and fuck her over the counter. But this? This was even better than that. She yelped when his hand came into contact with her ass again. He smoothed his hand over her hips, digging his fingers as he pulled her back against him to meet his thrusts. Her legs were shaking, she wasn’t sure she could take anymore. He leaned down, wrapping his arm around her chest, pulling her up with him. His fingers wrapped lightly around her neck as her back arched. She whimpered with each thrust. He pressed his fingers into her pulse point, her head falling back onto his chest. He glanced down at her, noticing her mouth fall open. She reached up behind, tangling her fingers into his hair. He slid his other hand from her hip and between her thighs. He used his fingers to circle her clit. “Look at you, taking me so well.” Fred groaned, giving her a hard thrust. Incoherent babble fell from her lips as her free hand gripped his arm that was pressed across her chest. He could feel her clenching around him, he pressed his fingers harder into her clit. She whimpered when she finally came, the feeling almost too much. Her fingers tugged at Fred’s hair, her eyes fluttering shut. Her fingers slowly slid from his hair as she started coming down from her orgasm. His hips snapped against hers, a groan leaving his lips when he came. She moaned at the feeling of him spilling into her, clenching around him again. He kept thrusting until she was trembling as she came again. She mumbled something incoherent again as her body relaxed against him. She was putty in his hands, if he let go of her, she would fall to the bed. He gently laid her down on the bed as he pulled out of her. He laid down next to her, rolling her over and pulling her into his side. He smirked when he noticed the dazed look on her face. He smiled to himself as he realised what state she was in. She curled into him, laying her head on his chest. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding her 

“Hey, love.” Freddie whispered, dragging his fingers up her arm. “Mm?” She hummed, nuzzling her face into his chest. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her head. They laid in silence for a while as he held her. Her fingers traced paths between the freckles on his chest and stomach. “What are you doing down there?” He asked quietly, being patient with her. “I’m naming the stars.” She mumbled, moving her head to look up at him. A lazy smile graced her lips as she looked up at Fred. He brought his hand up to her cheek, tracing a finger under her cheekbone. “You want to take a shower?” He asked, holding her soft gaze. She shook her head gently, pulling herself closer to him. She nudged his chin with her nose, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. A soft sigh escaped her lips as he brushed his nose against hers. She brushed her lips against his, biting her lip as a small smile formed on her lips. It didn’t take long for her to shift so she was laying on top of him. He lightly drug his fingertips up her spine. 

“Freddie.” She mumbled, lifting her head to look at him. “Yeah, love?” He asked, turning his head to look at her. “Can we take a shower now?” She asked, giving him a small pout. 

#imagines #one shots #harry potter #one shot #harry potter one shots #iiwontgiveuponmilkk #harry potter imagines #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley smut #fred weasley one shot #george weasley x reader #george weasley oneshot #george weasley

[zer0pm]

Imagine demanding Luis to unlock your chains. When he doesn’t, you take matters into your own hands.

A/N: DID SOMEONE SAY PART 2 OF THIS PIECE?!

You did and I’m grateful for all the love that has been thrown for my work. So here’s me giving some of that love back. Hope you enjoy 🙏

Warning: SMUT AHEAD. Look away, minors! Look away! Avert your eyes from the sexual content! Shoo! Begone!

Warning 2: It’s quite long so mentally prepare yourself.

.

.

“I still didn’t catch your name.”

The cheek on this guy. Using the fact that he holds the key to your restraints as a bargaining chip to become familiar with you. As if he hadn’t just forced you into a partnership with him already. The absolute nerve. You had more important things to do, such as finding Leon and the president’s daughter. And this Luis Serra was effectively wasting your precious time. Well, two can play this game.

You start by offering him an inviting smile before relaxing your hands until your palms pressed flat against his chest. The man didn’t seem to fully register your subtle movement until you slid them upwards, feeling the fine leather beneath your fingertips. The motion takes him by surprise, his eyes following your touch. He then casts an inquisitive glance your way.

“¿Que haces?” Apparently he wasn’t expecting this, convinced that you didn’t much care for him and thus was taken so off guard that he slipped into his native tongue. He must have remembered himself right after as he repeated the question, making sure that it sounded more direct. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Voice comes out in a low, sultry drawl as you grip the lapel of his jacket with one hand, gently tugging at the material. “I’m about to give you what you want. But I’m going to need you to come closer.”

Once you were certain that you had his complete attention while also making sure that you didn’t lose yourself in the mesmerizing grey of his eyes, you make your move. With your other hand, as best as the chains allowed, you reach for the key that was lodged in the lock of your chains. Disguising your intention, you run your fingers down the expanse of his chest in an explorative manner. This earned an appreciative hum from the Spaniard as he leans his head towards you expectantly.

Too easy.

Mindful not to look down between you two so as to not give yourself away, you lean in as well while also blindly searching for the key. “My name is…” you whisper. His bated breath mingles with yours, the lids of his eyes heavy, grey growing dark in anticipation. Another inch from either one of you and the gap will close. Just as your fingertips touched the end of the key, something warm firmly grips your hand. A sudden chill runs down your spine.

You can hear the reverb of something between a scoff and a chuckle come from Luis’ lips. “Nice try,” he smirks knowingly.

With a strength that catches you off guard, he pushes you away from him. Key in hand. He flaunts the tiny piece of metal before swinging his arm as if he was making a play to toss it aside. In your panic, you jump towards him, shoving him off balance with your shoulder. He breaks your fall as you two tumble down together.

The man curses in Spanish from the sudden pain and you took advantage of this by quickly searching for the key. You spot it a bit of a ways above Luis’ head and use both bound hands to reach for it once more. The chain that links your wrists together are caught by a familiar hand and suddenly pulled down until your hands were restrained between your two bodies once more. You sigh in frustration and the man beneath you clicks his tongue against his teeth.

There is an amused glimmer in his gaze as he speaks. “The stubborn-type, eh? All this trouble over a name.”

You in turn throw him an annoyed glare. “I was going to say the same about you.”

Instead of showing offense, he laughs. “Perhaps we’re more alike than you might think.”

Rather than entertain him further, you try to wrestle against his hold. Luis seemed prepared for it this time, matching your strength, only he had the advantage as he had free reign of his arms and hands. One hand kept your chained hands between your chests, the other gripped at the bicep of your arm, effectively minimizing upper body movement. Out of instinct, you rebelliously wriggle with your hips and legs with the sole focus of getting off of him. However, the man’s longer limbs kept you caged against him and the only thing you managed to do was awkwardly seat your bottom on him, knees bent by his sides.

When you grounded down in your struggle, the man tensed below you. Thinking you have finally one-up him, you repeated the action and noticed he wasn’t nearly putting up as good a fight as he did before. This allowed you to sit upright, dragging his hand with you until his arm extended slightly, and you continued your efforts to be free of him.

Luis’ breath became labored. “Stop.” he commands with gritted teeth, his voice barely above a whisper. When you didn’t listen to him, he moved his other hand from your arm to your hip, squeezing harshly in warning.

“¡Basta! Stop moving!” he growls.

You bark back defiantly, “I’ll get off when you let me get the fuckin-“

That’s when you felt it. Or rather- him. A hardness pressed beneath your nether region. Despite the layers of fabric, there was no mistaking the telling throbbing pushing up against you as if demanding your attention below.

Your throat runs dry but your brain kept sending signals to your mouth. “Ar…. Are you-“

“Sí.” the man had a pained, conflicted look about him, a picture of breathtaking self-control as he kept his body completely still. His eyes didn’t meet yours, gaze locked upon where your hips met as if to keep himself in check and not allow his body’s desires to act out untowardly.

“Surely you know how the human body works,” he tries to sound clinical, face strained in vague distress, “and will not fault me for the involuntary reactions of mine. It already doesn’t help that you’re easy on the eyes.”

You should be chastising him for getting excited when it was neither the time or place and danger was surely around the corner, but bit your lip at your own wave of pleasure upon feeling his arousal pulse. A totally different kind of heat washes over you.

What do you do now?

Neither of you spoke for a moment, a tense silence settling in until Luis breaks it with a forced cough.

“Well, this is- uh, fun.” he says without humor. “Pero, perhaps we can call it even and stop the game here. ¿Sí?”

His words went in one ear and out the other. You were frustrated beyond belief. Fueled by adrenaline and temptation. There was no one around. And you have an impossibly handsome Spanish man between your legs with a hard-on for you.

When you didn’t answer, he spoke up again. “As much as I like this position, I must regrettably ask that you- Whoa!”

As best as you could, you shoot your bound hands straight up in the air. As he still had a grip on the chain link, Luis was dragged upright into a seated position from the floor and his face stopped right in front of yours. The movement caused friction in both of your sensitive areas, mouths could do nothing to stop the groans that escaped them. His eyes open to your heated gaze, confusion and desire swirling in the grey irises.

You breathe, “You talk too much, Luis Serra.”

And it was you who closed the distance. Teeth and tongue clashed in a new battle filled with pent-up energy and lust. Your mind quickly becomes hazy as you allowed yourself to be consumed in his emanating heat and musky scent. A nip at his bottom lip earned you an enthusiastic thrust of his hips, an appreciative squeeze at your bottom rewarded him with a carnal moan from your mouth. The only time you pulled back was for air and the man before you glances between your dazed eyes and bruised lips, hypnotized by your already ruined appearance.

“Are we, uh, still playing the same game?” His question nearly disarms you. You have a feeling he was really asking if you were of sound of mind about this. Your eyes roll reflexively.

“Really going to keep running your mouth?” You then follow up with a roll of your hips, the Spaniard throws his head back with a deep, guttural groan. Dark wavy locks brush against his cheekbones, eyes shut closed. With his thick neck exposed, you steal kisses along his sensitive pulse and stubbled jaw. Another primal groan vibrates from his throat.

“Eres muy mala.” Luis grumbles without a hint of disdain. Rather, when you finally pull back to allow him to look at you, you find him wearing that familiar cocky smirk. “But I must admit, I’m kind of into it.”

A charmer through and through this man is. His next move takes you by surprise.

He shoves you off of him.

As soon as you recover from your initial shock, the dark-haired man grabs you by the chain again and drags you to the far end of the room, further away from the key and exit. Using his strength and your own momentum against you, Luis tosses you forward. Your upper body lands right on top of a wide metal table propped against the dingy concrete wall.

He takes advantage of your momentary state of confusion by forcing your arms to extend towards the wall. It wasn’t until you heard the unmistakable click of metal did you fully regain your senses and look up to see what he did. The arrogant man used one of the wall mounts to lock your chains taut in place. He literally chained your chains. You’re caught in a trap again!

Just as you were about to curse him out, you feel something hard press firmly against your bottom followed by a pair of warm hands settling at your hips and the heat you didn’t realize you were missing came back in throes. You almost wanted to point out how unfair the shift in dynamic was, but all coherent thoughts were thrown out the window when he started grinding into you.

“There,” Luis hums at your apparent silence, “much better.”

Damn him. And he had the gall to say you were bad.

His movements were slow and methodical, like he was testing the waters to see if you were actually fine with this. Your pleased sighs were the signs he needed to continue and go beyond. Next, you feel his curious hands rubbing at your sides over your shirt before he lifts it enough to slip them beneath the fabric. Feeling his skin on yours sent chills throughout your body. His touch wanders, palming at your every curve, line, and muscle and you melted into his hands, encouraging his exploration.

The temperature in the room was becoming unbearably hot. As if hearing this thought, you were pulled up by your torso as far as the chains would allow and felt your back meet his chest. Now, his hardness was at your lower back and you purposefully melded your backside against his straining cock, mentally drawing the length of him. Needless to say, without even seeing it, you were impressed by his size. The man didn’t carry himself confidently without warrant. A soft, almost adoring kiss upon the shell of your ear pulls you from your shameless thoughts.

He whispers hoarsely, “My friend, are you particularly fond of this shirt?”

“What?” you manage to choke out. “Why are you aski-”

The sound of tearing answered your question before you can finish it. Tattered fabric scatters around your feet and the air within the room suddenly felt like soft caresses on your bare torso.

“You didn’t even let me answer!” Your voice sounded more excited than annoyed.

“Lo siento. You were too slow.” Luis presses another chaste kiss to the side of your head. However, you can practically feel his wicked grin. “And frankly, are much too sexy for clothing, anyways.”

Damn, this man was making you feel things.

Despite your skin now bare against the elements, it did little to alleviate the heat building within you. It only amplified when his hands returned to your form, making a slow, sinful journey from your stomach to your upper chest. The pad of his fingers push upon the sensitive buds of your nipples, earning a wanton gasp from your lips. His hips jerk forward at the sound you made, his erection pulsing against your ass, sparking tiny, wonderful jolts of electricity within you. The sensations were making your toes curl.

One hand sneaks back down, his thumb finding it’s way under the hem of your jeans and underwear. His reach teases towards your sensitive spot and you bite your lip in anticipation, wanting so badly for him to touch you where you need him to but your mind too much of a mess to voice it into proper words.

“Mírate,” his warm breath fans against your ear in hoarse, gentle whispers. “Promixa vez… Te quiero llevar a la cama.”

You only manage to translate “Next time…” until the synapses in your brain fire all at once when his fingers began to toy your sex without warning. When his skillful hand deftly undid your jeans, you didn’t know, but at the moment, you didn’t care.

Holy hell. This guy was playing your body like a fine-tuned instrument and your voice eagerly sounded to his ministrations. Your moans and gasps music to his ears. The coil in the pit of your stomach was tightening to the point of snapping as his hand quickened the pace upon your bundle of nerves. He was stroking you graciously while also harshly grinding you into the edge of the table from behind. Your voice was reaching greater heights from the onslaught of overwhelming sensations.

“Last chance, my friend.” Luis growls, barely reigning in his instinct to simply bend you over and have his way with you. “Are we still playing the same game?”

The same question echoes. He asks one thing but really means another. This dashing, infuriating man is asking you if you want to go all the way, past the point of no return. Luis Serra is a stranger. Yet he had the sense and consideration to weigh your feelings in the matter, giving you an choice to opt out even though it would have been so easy to let it lie and let your baser instincts take over. It was almost romantic in a way. You didn’t have to think twice about this.

“Either you fuck me now,” you pant, chains clinking around your wrists, “or I’ll find my way out of these and fuck you myself.”

Luis chuckles lowly in intrigue. “¿Prometes?”

He makes quick work on the rest of your clothing, letting your pants and underwear fall at your ankles. He helps guide you completely out of them. It was probably a strange sight. You completely exposed while he was completely clothed. The only bits of him you can hear rustling is the buckle of his belt and the zipper of his pants coming undone. You were starting to shiver from anxious chills until you felt an arm wrap around you assuringly.

A patient hand gently fingers your entrance, preparing your body for something larger. You eventually move along rhythm of his fingers, goading him to take it to the next level and he acquiesces to your silent request. The heavy heat of his cock that was poking between the gap of your thighs move upwards. Your body instinctively tenses when the head of his member prods against your opening. Luis’ lips pressed against your temple in comfort and finally, finally, he slowly sinks into you. You gasp and he curses.

No amount of foreplay could have prepared you for him. Not all the way in and already you felt so full of him, his cock throbbing against every sensitive nerve inside of you. You whimper in both pain and pleasure and Luis tends to you by wrapping his arms around your middle, planting more kisses along the side of your head right behind your ear.

“Estoy aquí, ángel. Té tengo.”

Like the gentleman he portrays himself to be, he waits for you to relax around him. With great self-control, he pumps into you slowly with a tenderness that could bring tears to your eyes. The initial discomfort soon faded and was replaced by wonderful bouts of sensual ecstasy that has you gasping. Luis keeps up the pace with gusto, nearly pulling all the way out and slamming back into you. The pressure he was piling inside you with every thrust has you screaming to the point that you can feel your voice growing hoarse. Meanwhile, you can hear him moaning his praises for you in his birth tongue. This man wasn’t just talking himself a big game. He knows what he’s doing, fueling his pleasure by ensuring your own. And he was making certain that you chased yours fast.

He pulls out and you involuntarily whimper at the loss of contact. You weren’t left alone for long as he lifts you to lay on your side on the table, your hands forced to rise above your head at this new position. Luis grabs a hold of one of your legs and bends it at the knee over his shoulder, entering your heat once more. Your blood boils fiercely at this new angle, you can see him and everything he was doing to you. And he can see you’re practically rendered speechless with every powerful thrust. At this rate, you weren’t going to last. The fluttering inside your core now popping like firecrackers.

Sweat pours down his handsome face, pupils dilated black with desire for you. “¿Cómo te llamas, ángel? Tell me. And I’ll give you what you want.”

He’s asking for your name again. The catalyst behind this whole affair. “Really bent on that, aren’t you?” you manage to pant out, your lungs barely keeping up with each strong snap of his hips.

“I wasn’t at first, only wanted to tease you.” He groans, his voice finding difficulty to stay level when he’s fucking into you without abandon. “But now- ah! I really want to know. I want to call out your name. ¡Joder! Let me call out your name, mi amor.”

The way he was begging tugged at you deep. Your name was on the edge of your tongue, but your heart was gripped with fear. Fear that if you so much as uttered what he’s asking of you, the spell would be broken and you’d be left unsatisfied. This felt too damn good to risk ruin with sentimentality. So you did what you have been doing best. Prevaricate. And make him want you more.

“Uncuff me. And I’ll tell you anything. Anything you want.”

You feel the vibrations of a laugh rumble deep from his chest.

“Eres tan… ¡Mierda!”

Like a cord finally snapping, the dam breaks and everything building inside spills out with a long, final cry of ecstasy. Stars dotted your vision, for a moment you forgot to breathe as you feel yourself unraveling. Within, you feel him cumming inside as well. Liquid hot ropes painting your insides, leaving you quivering uncontrollably. His hips slow to an eventual stop, his voice coming out in soft, satisfied sighs.

Slowly letting your leg down, Luis pulls himself out and hovers over you, hands flat beside your head. The man peppers your back and shoulders with soft nips and kisses. His stubble makes slow, sensual scratches along your skin as he reaches up to the flesh of your ear, biting onto the lobe affectionately. You turn your head to meet his lips with yours, noting how wonderful his kisses feel. He pulls away slightly to study you intently, varying emotions flashing over his eyes.

“Now,” he started, “about that name.”

Back at this again. You had to admire the man for his tenacity. “Told you already,” you huff once your breath returned to you, tugging at the chains around your wrist. “Remove these cuffs and I’ll think about it.”

His voice cracks in disbelief, “That was not what you said- ¿En serio? After all of that?”

“You’re more than welcome to keep working for it.” The words left your lips before you can stop them and an amused groan escapes from Luis’ own, sending another sinful heat to flow down your core.

“Eres muy mala.” He sighs with a shake of his head. There was no hint of annoyance in his husky tone, a devilish smirk plastered on his face. “Hanging with you- not healthy.”

“Right back at ya.” The remark earned a swift smack on your ass. You almost yelp out of reflex and shifted your eyes to glare at him.

The way he looked at you, however, tells you that he wasn’t against the idea of going again. And truthfully, you were all for it. Luis leans over to capture your lips once more, sweet and filled with promise, while his hand began to wander your body mischievously. The familiar tingle of heat starts to boil inside-

The alarming sound of inhuman groans down the hall jolts you two from your intimate high. Spell broken and you fully take in your nakedness in this increasingly dire situation.

“Get these chains off, Luis!”

“¡Sí, sí! Right away!”

#luis serra #luis serra navarro #luis serra imagine #luis serra x reader #my writing #resident evil imagines #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #re4 luis #zer0pm imagine #gender neutral reader #reader is gender neutral #it’s been awhile since I’ve written smut so go easy on me #there are no words that can describe luis’ spice level #luis serra smut #this was way longer than I initially planned #hope you enjoy #not a Spanish speaker #barely proofread #so screw it we die like luis #will edit for mistakes as I go so bear with me #it’s like midnight here lol #reader finds clothes eventually #probably steals luis’ jacket #legend has it that to this day he still didn’t catch their name #luis nearly trips over the forgotten corpse in the room while putting his dick away fr fr

[thewulf]

Who are You? || Jake Seresin

Summary: After breaking up with you lovely cheating fiancée you find a place to stay at your Aunt Penny's house in San Diego. You might just get more than you bargained for when you meet the Jake Seresin.

A/N: First attempt at Top Gun, loved writing for him!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 4,700+

Part 2

Life came at you fast. One moment you were planning your wedding with the supposed ‘love of your life’ Aaron, the next you were on the floor of your shared apartment wondering why he had to go and ruin everything. You and Aaron had met back in college when you were both studying engineering. He swept you off your feet, quite literally. A mishap in a chemistry lab had him picking you up so you wouldn’t get burned. From then on, the two of you had been inseparable.

Aaron was everything you wanted in a man. He was sweet, kind, funny and just an overall good person to be around. At least, that’s what you thought. The two of you moved to Michigan after graduating, both of you securing well-paying engineering jobs. You thought you were happy, you thought you’d start a life in Michigan but apparently Aaron had other plans.

You stated noticing odd behaviors from your fiancée five years into the relationship. His once calm and kind demeanor changed ever so slightly. He snapped at you often, something your Aaron wouldn’t have dreamed of doing even just a year prior. He wasn’t fun to be around anymore, you tried to make jokes that would have made him laugh and crack one back with you, but he just rolled his eyes at you instead.

You weren’t sure when it all started culminating but you were damn near a breaking point. Five years into a relationship and his personality changed so drastically over the last six months. You tried taking advice from both your mom and aunts, but nothing worked.

All the tension came to a head when you were out one night with a friend, Mandy, heading to the local bars. Aaron was supposed to be gone for the week on a work trip. He was indeed not on a work trip. Mandy spotted him and excitedly tried to drag you over to him. Your eyes widened and you yanked your arm away from her. She didn’t know Aaron was supposed to be gone. You quickly ducked your head and walked to a side of the bar you were sure he couldn’t see you from. Mandy was clearly confused but followed you anyway.

“He’s not supposed to be here Mandy.” Y/N said while quietly sipping on the whisky sour you had ordered earlier.

“Where’s he supposed to be then?” She asked with confusion laced on her brow.

Y/N took a slow and drawn-out breath while closing her eyes knowing something wasn’t right. Mandy was looking at you expectantly when you opened your eyes again, “Minnesota, for work.”

She bit her lip trying to come up with any excuse for him in the book. You gave her a sad smile while shifting around a few people trying to get a better line of sight on the liar.

Your heart sunk when a beautiful girl seemed to appear out of thin air wrapping her dainty arms around your fiancée. You bit the inside of your cheek hard, trying to will the tears that were threatening to spill to stay put. You continued to watch half hoping it was just a friend, God willing it’d just be a friend. Your heart shattered when he placed a soft kiss on her lips smiling like the fucking idiot he was. Your teeth clenched down harder drawing a metallic taste from your mouth.

“Oh, Y/N, let’s go.” Mandy softly grabbed at your arm attempting to pull you away from the bar. Your legs felt like lead as she tried to drag you away. You couldn’t hear anything nor process what you saw. You heard your heart beating slow and not so steady. Closing your eyes again you swallowed the blood that pooled in your mouth.

“I should go up to him.” You mumbled ignoring Mandy’s protests.

This time Mandy squeezed your arm trying to get you to snap out of whatever daze you were in, “That’d be an awful idea Y/N. Take some pictures and let’s go home.”

You nodded taking another sip from your sour, nearly hissing when it hit the open wound from your cheek bite. The fucking loser was continuing to hurt you without even realizing it. Mandy snapped a few more pictures making sure to get everything.

That’s how you landed on the floor of your shared apartment silently crying. The gravity of the situation finally hit you, your life you wanted to start was over. Aaron ruined it before it could really begin.

You sent the pictures to your mom and aunts who, of course, were nothing but supportive. They helped to get you out of the situation. Your mom flew in to help you pack your things and your Aunt Penny offered to let you come out to San Diego and live with her for a while. You worked it out with your boss, he agreed to let you work from home rather than lose you completely. You were free to go to San Diego for the next six months.

The actual breakup was heartbreaking yet again. Aaron almost looked relieved when you ended it only confirming your worst nightmare, being used in a relationship. It was a blessing in disguise you kept telling yourself as you made the 35-hour drive to your Aunt Penny’s. It certainly was the biggest blessing in disguise for Y/N.

You pulled up to Penny’s blue home three days after starting your cross-country road trip. You smiled taking in the views around you, smelling the salty ocean air that was unfamiliar to you. The air was warm and refreshing and the ocean front views went on for miles. Penny and Amelia ran outside to greet you, more than excited to have you come stay with them.

“Y/N!” Amelia yelled running up to you throwing herself into your outstretched arms.

“Meals!” You enthusiastically replied, “you’ve grown.” You whispered into her hair as you held her closely.

“You would have known that if you visited.” She stuck her tongue out at you after getting a better look at you.

You ruffled her hair sighing, realizing just how much you missed out because of Aaron. “I know, that’s on me. Don’t let stupid boys make decisions for you.” She nodded her head smiling while backing away, giving room for Penny to sneak in.

“It’s okay,” Penny cooed pulling you into a hug, “we’ve got plenty of time to catch up.”

You nodded your head feeling very good about the decision to stow away at the Benjamin household for a while. “How’ve you been Aunt Pen?” You asked while grabbing a suitcase out of the back. Amelia came around and started unloading the contents with you.

“Been wonderful.” She grinned ear to ear.

“Moms got a boyfriend.” Amelia giggled while wiggling her eyebrows, “A pilot boyfriend.”

“Really?” You asked your aunt, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

She nodded, “I do. He’ll be around tonight.”

“What’s tonight? Anything happening?” Y/N asked nobody in particular.

Amelia ran inside with your items leaving you alone with Penny.

“Nothing major. I’ve got to close the Hard Deck tonight. He usually stops by to say hello. Along with a few other aviators.”

You smirked at your blushing aunt, “A boyfriend huh? Is he cute? What’s his name? Can I come tonight?”

She laughed at your rapid-fire questions, “Of course he’s cute! Very handsome. His name is Pete Mitchell.” Penny smiled thinking about him. “And yes of course you can come on by, it’s always a good time on a Friday night.”

“Oh, so you’re in love love.” Y/N smirked grabbing the last of the items from your car.

Penny shrugged, “A bit.”

“How do I look Amelia?” You asked your cousin as you walked down the stairs.

She grinned setting down the book she was reading, “Beautiful, as always.”

“You’re way too nice to me Meals.” You smiled sitting down next to her on the couch.

She shrugged, looking eerily like her mother, “It’s the truth.”

“We’ll thank you, you’re my favorite cousin.”

“I’m your only cousin!” She laughed punching you in the shoulder lightly.

“Precisely.” You winked getting up from the couch. “So, what am I walking into?” You eyed the fridge containing beer, you knew one would calm your nerves.

She peeked back over her book, “Lots of flyboys. All cute too. Some cool girls come around too.”

You nodded cracking open the beer, getting rather nervous hearing that, “Pretty cute hmm?”

She nodded her head enthusiastically, “I think so. They’re all very kind. Just twice my age. So, it’s more of a looking situation for me.”

“Not twice mine.”

Amelia giggled shaking her head, “Mom always says no flyboys. I assume she’ll say the same for you. Bit of a hypocrite she is.”

This time it was your turn to laugh, “Sounds like she knows something.”

Amelia nodded looking down at the time, “You better go if you want to beat Mav there.”

“Mav?”

“Maverick, it’s Pete’s callsign. They all have one.”

You nodded finishing the rest of the beer, “I have no idea what I’m getting myself into.”

“You’ll have fun! Go! Don’t think of that stupid boy either. Enjoy the night.” She shot up from her spot on the couch and began pushing you towards the front door.

You put your hands up, “Alright, alright! Have a good night, Meals.”

“You to! But not too much.”

You hesitantly walked towards the Hard Deck really regretting your decision to go out tonight. You just weren’t feeling up to it now. All you really wanted to do was grab a pint of ice cream and hang out with Amelia.

Sighing you pushed open the door to the bar taking in your surroundings quickly. Everybody appeared to be normal, no flyboys in sight. Smiling you walked over to the bar spotting Penny’s blonde hair.

“There you are, was beginning to worry you wouldn’t show.” She grinned grabbing you a beer and setting it down in front of you.

“Thanks Pen. Your daughter distracted me when I was leaving.”

She shook her head, “Pete and the crew should be here any moment.”

You nodded taking a big sip of the beer, hoping to feel lightly buzzed before meeting a bunch of new people.

True to Penny’s word a few people in uniform came waltzing through. All of them seemed to ooze confidence which sent you scrunching down in your chair trying to avoid any and all eye contact. It’s not that you didn’t like meeting new people, it’s just that they were all so intimidating. You snapped your head back to Penny with wide eyes.

“What’s the matter?” She laughed pouring what you assumed to be Pete’s beer.

“They’re terrifying.” You whispered leaning in close.

She let out an alarmingly loud laugh that you were sure grabbed the attention of the crew, “Hardly love. They may look it but they’re a bunch of hooligans.”

“I can attest to that.” A male voice spoke from behind sending you nearly jumping out of your seat.

“Jesus.” You took a breath and turned around to look at the very handsome man.

“Pete! This is Y/N. She finally made it in from Michigan.” Penny handed him his beer as he sat down next to you.

“Hello.” You smiled at him taking another good look at him while sipping on your own beer.

“Nice to meet you Y/N. Penny’s told me all about you.”

You turned to your aunt with a raised brow, “She’s always had a big mouth.”

“Hey!” Penny laughed hitting you with the bar rag, “Only good things I promise Y/N.”

“I believe you Aunt Pen.” You smiled brightly at your aunt.

“Alright, let me go serve the kids and I’ll be back.” She winked at the both of you before turning around to a ‘kid’ who was sporting a rather pornstache looking mustache. You noticed him pointing over to you and Penny looking back at you. Rather uncomfortably you turned your entire body to Pete and tried to distract yourself.

“So, Pete, are you good to my Aunt Pen?”

He smiled watching her pour beers and hand them to the kid, “Of course. I lost her once and I’m certainly not planning on doing that again.”

“Good.” You nodded taking another swig from your glass.

“And you? What’s your story kiddo?”

You sighed not really wanting to get into the nitty gritty details with Penny’s boyfriend, “My fiancée cheated on me. I needed to get away and Penny offered her place for a while.”

He nodded slowly taking you in this time, “Sorry kid. People suck sometimes.”

You bobbed your head unsure what to say to the man, “Indeed they do.” You said while sighing, finishing off the beer.

“Not all of them suck,” he smirked finishing his off at the same time, “Looks like somebody else has some eyes for you.” He set his glass down and stood up, motioning for that somebody to come over.

“Don’t leave me.” You pleaded seeing him start to walk away.

He laughed, “From what Penny tells me, you’ll be able to handle him just fine.” He winked and disappeared behind a few people. You sighed yet again scrunching your nose up, not too thrilled with the situation you had landed yourself in.

“Need another?” A new voice spoke from behind. Y/N turned around slowly shyly smiling at the aviator in behind her. 

“Uhh, sure.” You bit your lip turning back towards the bar cursing your inability to even hold a conversation with the handsome stranger.

“You mind?” He pointed to the chair.

You shook your head no racking your brain for anything to say to the man sitting beside you. He was beautiful Y/N thought. A far departure from her once fiancée Aaron, the stranger sported blonde hair and green eyes, stunning green eyes. Y/N took a breath and smiled again at him.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Beautiful name for an even more beautiful woman.” He grinned calling Penny over to refill both drinks.

You couldn’t stop the light blush that crept across your face, earning a chuckle from the handsome stranger sitting next to you.

“Don’t even think about it Hangman.” Penny spoke eyeing her niece and the serial player sitting close together, “Not my niece.” She glared at him taking both glasses.

He chuckled sticking his hand out to you, “Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman.”

You took his hand gingerly in yours shaking it briefly, “Nice to meet you.” You eyed him curiously waiting for an explanation that was never going to come.

“Hangman?” You questioned.

“Long story.” He nodded scooting ever so slightly closer to you.

“Like the kids game?” 

This time he laughed, loudly, drawing the attention of his fellow aviators. “Exactly like the kids game.”

You nodded, “That’s interesting.”

“Just like me sweetheart.”

You could feel another blush creep up, you mentally cursed your face for giving you away so easily. Y/N was flustered. Aaron wasn’t nearly as smooth as this beautiful man was before you. You didn’t know how to deal with this level of boldness, not quite used to the attention he was giving you.

Penny saved your racing thoughts setting the beers down rather hard eyeing Jake in the process. “I’ve got my eye on you Seresin.” She smiled walking away back over to Maverick on the other side of the bar. 

“What’s that about?” You asked sincerely hoping for an honest answer from the man sitting even more closely now, not that you minded.

“Nothing sweetheart.” he finally looked back up into your eyes stopping whatever he was going to say. 

This time it was his turn to sigh, “I might have a small reputation.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you took a long drawn-out sip of your beer waiting for him to go on.

He ran a hand through his hair trying to figure out what to say to the beautiful woman sitting next to him. He wasn’t sure what had come over him, but her eyes stopped his usual spiel. It was like she was bearing her entire soul to him in just the way she was looking at him. He sucked in a breath before continuing.

“A playboy reputation?” He spoke timidly, grinning at her but he knew she could see right through it.

“Ahh, there it is.” Y/N clicked her tongue almost afraid to look back him. You knew you would get sucked back into his eyes, all green and perfect. It’s always the eyes for Y/N.

He gulped knowing his next words would dictate the way the rest of his night would go, “Come over and meet my friends. They’re a great group of people.”

You looked at him expectantly considering the options. He quickly pivoted away from that statement. Bud what else did you have to lose? You knew his end game now and you certainly weren’t going to let him take you home tonight.

“Sure.” You nodded standing from your seat. He grabbed your beer and led you over to the small group of people standing around the pool table. Jake cleared his through garnering the attention of the crew.

“This is Y/N, our dear Penny’s niece.”

“We know.” Pornstache guy smiled walking over to you, “Penny told me.” He winked at Jake before continuing looking down at you, “Bradley Bradshaw ma’am, these assholes call me Rooster.”

You smiled seeing the rest of the group groan telling him to shut up, “Nice to meet you, Bradley.” You opted for using his real name, not quite comfortable enough to use the nicknames just yet.

“These two are both trouble.” The lone female stepped up and pulled you away, “Natasha, or Phoenix.” She smiled snatching your beer away from Jake before handing it back to you. “Those two playing pool are Payback and Bob.”

You waved quickly turning your attention back to Natasha, “It’s a pleasure to meet you all, although slightly overwhelming.”

She laughed patting your back, “You just missed the big group. We just wrapped up a mission a few days ago. Everybody is getting reassigned. I luckily get to stay for a while longer with these smooth brains.” 

“Hey now,” Jake walked back over eyeing you subtly, “You love us Phoenix.”

She scoffed, “Love is a word you can use.” She spoke while rolling her eyes.

“So, Y/N,” Jake spoke in his oddly attractive southern draw, you turned you attention back to the man, “where are you from? What’s your story?”

You noticed the rest of the crew go back to what they were doing leaving you with Jake, Phoenix shaking her head used to Jake’s antics. 

You tapped your glass thinking of what you wanted to tell him, “From Ohio, lived in Michigan, broke up with a guy and now I’m here.” You nodded your head knowing that’s all you wanted to say.

He chuckled this time taking his turn to respond. Noting that Y/N was closed off. “You want to go for a walk darling?”

You eyed him curiously, “Are you going to murder me?”

You earned a snort from him this time, “Now why would I do that to the beautiful woman I’m trying to take out on a date?”

You shrugged, “Just something a murderer would suggest.” You smiled up at him charmingly, “Wait, did you say date?”

“I did beautiful.” Smirking he took a long drink from his glass. You gulped eyeing him, how could one be so attractive taking a drink of beer?

You hummed keeping your eyes on him as he lowered his glass, “Maybe. You’ll have to convince me though.” You shrugged as nonchalantly as you could muster, trying to form some sort of confidence.

“Well let me take you on a walk then darling.” He grinned setting his empty glass down on a table. 

“Alright,” you set your glass down and turned towards Natasha, “if I don’t come back though, he did it.” You pointed towards Jake.

She laughed, “Jake is many things, I don’t think he’s slick enough to get away with murder though.”

Jake rolled his eyes and softly touched your wrist, “May I?”

You snapped your body back around feeling his warm touch on your arm, “Okay.” You spoke while your brain short circuited from the contact. He pulled your arm gently into his side bringing you closely to him. You were sure your heart was about to beat right out of your chest.

The two of you walked slowly down the beach in a comfortable silence listening to the waves crash onto shore.

“From Ohio? And moved to Michigan?” He asked softly not wanting to startle you.

You hummed agreeing with his statement, “Got my degree and found a job in Michigan. It’s a beautiful state, just too cold in the winter.”

He chuckled, “It doesn’t get too cold in Texas.”

“That where you’re from?”

“Yes ma’am.” He spoke while rubbing his thumb along your forearm sending a wave of chills down your body. “Born and raised, Texas is home.”

“Never been.” You admitted.

He gasped, “Well I’ll be. I’ll take you there one day.” He squeezed your arm gently.

“Oh really?”

“If you let me that is.” He spoke sounding rather nervous, a far cry from his previous flirting.

“We’ll see Tic Tac Toe.”

He threw his head back laughing loudly, “Hangman darling.”

“I like Candyland better.” You looked up to him for the first time since you two left the bar smiling as his green eyes reflected the sunset on the horizon. 

“Well, I’ll tell you what darling,” he stopped abruptly which halted you in place, “you can call me whatever kids game you want if you let me take you out?”

Giggling you bit your cheek to suppress the grin forming on your face, “That’s a tempting offer.”

He nodded, “Then take it.” He winked down at you pulling you slightly closer to him.

You did want to take his offer. He was a beautiful man practically begging you to go on one date with him. Why were you so apprehensive? Was it the look Penny gave you before you went off with him? Was it the thought of even attempting to form a new relationship so soon after the last one ended? Was it simply because you were scared? You looked up at him biting your lip softly trying to form a coherent sentence with him looking at you so expectantly.

“What’s got you thinking so hard beautiful?” He asked while raising his eyebrow, curious to the girl’s apprehension. Jake wasn’t used to it. Sure, women have played hard to get but he always knew their end game. With you? He wasn’t so sure. You were shy, quiet and seemed uncertain. Something was stopping you and it was already driving Jake mad. You were simply different, as cliché as that sounds. You clearly wanted to entertain his advances, but he could not figure out the why, yet.

You hummed still trying to figure out what to say to him. Of course, the stupid blush you couldn’t hide crept back up onto your face. Should you just tell him the truth? You didn’t want to offload so much onto this nearly complete stranger, but he seemed so earnest, so eager to learn about you that you had the urge to.

Still stopped on the supposed walk you were supposed to be taking you finally garnered the courage to speak to him, “Jake, I just got out of a long and quite frankly heartbreaking relationship. I don’t know if I’m ready yet. I don’t want to string you along or hurt you.” You finished the last part of your statement quietly, so quietly you weren’t sure if he heard it.

There it was, he knew there had to be something. He also knew you were a total sweetheart just in the admission. You didn’t want to hurt him?

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

This question made you think. Did you want to talk about it? You’ve only talked to your mom about it, Penny a bit but the nitty gritty details were left out. You did want to talk about it, but with Jake? You weren’t sure.

“I don’t want to unload on you like that, I hardly know you.” You admitted sheepishly avoiding his gaze that never seemed to leave your face.

“And how do people get to know other people Y/N?” He asked sincerely, not trying to sound like an asshole but really trying to get to know you.

You let a small chuckle escape your mouth nodding your head to his point, “They talk.”

“Exactly.” He grinned at you once you finally got the courage to look back up to him, “And I asked about that, I want to know. But if you don’t want me to know that’s alright. There’s many things to talk about.”

You shook your head more in disbelief than anything, “Who are you, Jake? My aunt obviously thinks of you a certain way yet you’re speaking to me like somebody completely different.”

He shrugged, “She sees a certain persona that I want everybody to see. I’m not just that person, that’d make me a pretty awful person.”

“Then why do you put that persona out there?” You questioned, genuinely curious.

“That’s a great question Y/N. One that I’m still figuring out.”

You nodded at his honesty deciding to air out your own baggage to him, “My fiancée cheated on me. I’m not sure how many times or when it started but I caught him out one night at the bar making out with somebody else.��� You spoke quickly.

He softly squeezed your arm in comfort, “That’s no man, darling. Dodged yourself a bullet.”

“Spent way to long chasing and holding onto that bullet.” You sighed.

The rest of your walk with Jake consisted of you spilling every detail, to an extent, to him. Something felt so right talking with him. He was the first person who just listened and let you speak your mind. He spoke up when you needed him to, but he let you get it al out. You also learned quite about him in return, you weren’t going to let him get away knowing so much of your baggage without knowing some of his.

He talked about the ‘one that got away’ and how he fucked it up. How his insecurities let the best thing that’s ever happened to him walk away. He admitted to you that he didn’t want to do that again, to feel such sadness knowing it was from your own mistakes.

Before the both of you knew it you spent two hours walking up and down the now dark beach as the sun had set hours prior. When you finally got back to the Hard Deck your aunt was closing the place down with Pete sitting there patiently waiting on her. You didn’t see any of the other aviators as you looked around.

“Have fun?” Penny asked eyeing you curiously seeing as who you came back to the bar with.

You nodded walking to her, Jake in tow, “I did.”

“Me too.” Jake chimed in placing his hand at the small of your back. You could not stop the shiver that ripped down your body from the feeling. You could have sworn you heard Jake laugh softly in response.

Penny smiled shaking her head, “That’s good. What’d you two do?”

You noticed Pete listening in but trying to make it seem like he wasn’t, “Just walked and talked.” You admitted without admitting a single thing.

Penny smiled eyeing Jake yet again, “Just, be careful.” She spoke to you.

“I am, don’t worry Aunt Pen.”

“It’s not you that I’m worried about.” She answered truthfully earning a chuckle from the tall blonde pilot.

“I can promise you Penny, there’s no way I could hurt this one right here. If anything, she’ll go breaking my heart.”

You rolled your eyes trying to play it off cool, but the blush had another idea. Penny grinned like a Cheshire cat seeing your reaction to his over-the-top statement. Penny handed the two of you another round of beers, on her, before quickly turning her attention back to cleaning and Pete.

Gaining some confidence as he led you away from earshot you finally said what you wanted to, “So Jake, about that date?

Part 2

#jake seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman x female!reader #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #glen powell #top gun maverick #top gun imagine #top gun hangman #top gun #hangman top gun #top gun fanfiction #lieutenant jake hangman seresin #hangman fluff #hangman fanfiction

[captainsophiestark]

Pay No Attention to the Magizoologist

Theseus Scamander x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Requested by anon!

Fandom: Harry Potter

Summary: Y/N and Newt have been friends for a long time, and for almost as long, Y/N has also had a crush on Newt's older brother Theseus. Years and years later, after their Hogwarts days, several run-ins with Grindelwald, the death of Leta Lestrange, and the wedding of Queenie and Jacob, Newt is still subverting Ministry rules in the name of helping his creatures. And, as usual, Y/N is an accomplice in his schemes. So, when Newt goes running out the door with his creatures and Jacob in tow, it falls to Y/N to distract Theseus and keep him from following Newt's trail. And this distraction might just lead to a bigger change than any of them bargained for.

Word Count: 2,439

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"What do we do?"

"I don't know!"

I looked between Newt and Jacob as they debated, coming off as a little bit more than panicked. They needed to get out of here with Newt's briefcase, without getting held up by the Ministry of Magic. Unfortunately for both of them (and me), Theseus was on his way here as we spoke, and there was no doubt he'd slow down the boys' mission.

"Why is your brother coming after us in the first place?" demanded Jacob.

"Because technically, what we're doing here is illegal. The Ministry of Magic has specific procedures they want me to follow before releasing any of my creatures into their natural habitats, but this time, waiting for their bureaucracy to process things will take too long. My newest rescue won't do well waiting around in captivity for longer than they already have," answered Newt. Jacob looked more stressed than he'd been before.

"Oh great!"

"You two get out of here," I said, jumping into the middle of their argument after watching their back-and-forth for a while. "I'll stay here and slow down Theseus."

They both stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at me, incredulous expressions on their faces. After a few beats of silence, the three of us just looking between one another, Newt spoke up.

"Y/N, are you sure?"

"Yeah, Newt, I'm sure. I can distract him just fine, and you guys need to get out of here. You need Jacob for this a little more than you need me, and I can always meet up with you both later."

Newt stared at me for a few moments, then closed all the distance between us to clasp a hand on my shoulder. He met my eyes with an earnest look, and it made my heart warm to see my best friend like that.

"Thank you, Y/N."

"Of course. Just be safe, the both of you."

Newt nodded, his way of promising, before heading out the door, Jacob with him. I watched them go, and then just like that, I was alone in our little loft hideout.

I'd been best friends with Newt for the majority of my life. Since Hogwarts, in fact. He and I got along like wildfire, and had since our first year together at Hogwarts. I would do anything for him. Theseus and I, on the other hand, were a different story.

I'd had a crush on my best friend's older brother for basically our entire time at Hogwarts. Theseus, on the other hand, had barely noticed me beyond my role as his kid brother's friend, and our relationship had only cooled as I'd spent more time helping Newt and less time fawning over him. In the wake of Leta Lestrange's death, however, Newt and Theseus had gotten close again, and I'd done my best to be there for both of them as well. Theseus and I had gotten to the point of actually being able to call each other friends recently, and I only hoped my decision to distract him today in order to give Newt a clean getaway wouldn't ruin that new step in our relationship.

Oh well. Sometimes, there was no other option but to back your crazy best friend's crazy play, no matter the cost.

I paced around the room for a few minutes, trying to brace myself to see Theseus, but before I was anywhere near ready I heard a loud knock at the door. I couldn't help jumping, but then I did my best to quickly compose myself and went to answer it.

"Theseus!" I said, feigning surprise when I saw the serious face of the Auror before me. He kept trying to lean around me to see inside the little apartment Newt and I had turned into a temporary hideout, and I kept leaning to block him. "What a surprise! It's so good to see you, it's been so long!"

"Y/N, where's my brother?" he demanded, his eyes at last settling on me instead of the space behind me. I fought back a gulp as I forced a smile onto my face instead.

"Newt? Uh... I haven't seen Newt in a while now, actually. I thought he was spending some family time with you?"

Theseus gave me a look that clearly said he wasn't buying any of my nonsense.

"We both know he's not spending time with me. He's been hiding out with you while planning some nonsensical scheme that's going to get both him and his muggle friend into deep trouble. Now tell me where he is."

"What? I mean, uh..."

"Y/N, I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this."

With that, he stepped forward, forcing me to step back or else be run straight into. He pushed into the living room, leaving me standing by the open door behind him, then poked his head into the kitchen in search of Newt.

"Newt! Come out, we need to talk!" he called. He stopped, apparently deciding Newt wasn't in the kitchen, before heading into the living room. I rolled my eyes and closed the front door.

"Please, come right in and make yourself comfortable," I deadpanned. Theseus just shot me a look over his shoulder as he continued to move around my living room. I huffed a sigh, but got dragged back into action as Theseus made his way across the room, getting closer to the back door Newt and Jacob had disappeared out of. If he got there, to the spot they'd left from, odds were significantly higher he'd be able to track them down, especially with a little magical help.

I just needed to buy Newt a little more time. He and Jacob were catching a portkey in twenty minutes, and if Theseus couldn't get to them before that, they'd be in the clear.

"So, uh, the Ministry is still trying to prevent the release of some animals, yeah? That's uh... that's what this whole thing is about?"

"My brother is trying to release dangerous animals into the wild," said Theseus, not halting his search through my living room. I took a few steps closer to him as they spoke. "Keeping them safe in his sanctuary is one thing, but turning them loose on the world is another..."

"I've met all of those animals, none of them seem particularly dangerous to me," I countered, crossing the room all the way to Theseus now. I moved in front of him, standing between him and his search of the top of my fireplace mantle. His eyes landed on me, an exasperated expression on his face.

"Y/N, please. Newt just needs to get a permit, and go through the proper channels. Then he can release whatever animals he wants."

I couldn't help rolling my eyes. "Oh please, you and I both know the Ministry will take ages. Some of those animals will be much better off if they're released now, and not a year from now."

"All the same, I need to do my job and get my brother back. Then maybe I can help him get his permit expedited, but until then, he has to wait. So, if you're done attempting to stall me..."

With that, he turned to start hunting through the rest of my living room, following Newt's trail. I moved after him, hovering over his every step and trying to erase any trace of Newt when I caught it before Theseus.

"Actually, I'm not done stalling you. I think we should talk a little more. Now that we're back to being friendly, you know, I think-"

"Nice try, Y/N, but it's not going to work," said Theseus, a slight smile on his face as he continued to make his way through my living room. "I can talk to you and search for my brother at the same time."

I looked around the room for some sign of inspiration to slow down Theseus, but started to panic as he headed for the door Newt and Jacob had left through. He flung it open and was about to walk out, which meant I had to do something, now.

"Wait!" I cried, rushing across the room towards him. He paused with a sigh and turned back to me, wand in-hand and ready to track Newt and Jacob.

"Y/N, I'm sorry, but I really can't stick around right now. I have a job to do."

"Okay, but just one second. This is important!" I said, slipping into the doorway between him and his target. He leaned forward and into my space, and I couldn't help feeling a little giddy at his proximity. I blame that feeling for clouding my judgment and impacting my next decision.

"What is it, Y/N?" he asked. I panicked, trying to think of something, but I couldn't focus on anything beyond the handsome, wonderful man in front of me and the fact that I could NOT let him through the door. He sighed and took a half step forward, placing his hand gently on my waist to move me aside, and I did the only thing that came to mind.

I grabbed Theseus' shoulders, leaned up, and kissed him full on the mouth.

My brain short circuited all over again as we kissed, and I swear fireworks surrounded us. Then, a moment later, reality set in. I jerked away from Theseus and my hand flew to my mouth, horror sinking in at my actions. I couldn't believe I'd just done that.

"Theseus..." I looked up at him to find him staring blankly off into the space just over my shoulder, looking completely shocked. "Oh my God... I am so, SO sorry!"

Theseus didn't respond, which got rid of any of the remaining fireworks lingering around me. I couldn't believe I'd just done that. Theseus and I had just started to get to a place where we had a good relationship, and I'd probably just destroyed it.

"Theseus, please, I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have done that. I just... I needed to keep you from going after Newt, and... and it was the only thing I could think to do. Oh God." I facepalmed. Then, against the rational part of my brain screaming to let me give it control again, I kept talking. "I- well, I've had a crush on you since we were kids, and we were standing so close together and it's like my mind went blank, and it was the only thing I could think of-"

My ramble finally, mercifully got cut off as Theseus wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back to his side of the doorway before pushing me up against the wall right next to it. Before I could get my brain restarted, he was kissing me, with a level of passion and emotion that I'd only ever dreamed about.

Once I got over my own shock, I wasted no time kissing him back. I tangled my hands in his hair as his grip tightened around my waist, and we stayed like that for a long few moments before finally coming up for air.

We were breathing hard as we met each others' eyes, our faces barley an inch apart. He seemed as shocked as me that we'd actually just done that, and I couldn't help the joyful laugh that bubbled out of me.

"Theseus... what was that?" I asked, a smile steadily growing on my face as I fondly ran my hand through his hair again. He smiled back at me, a slightly sheepish grin on his face even though he looked just as happy as I did.

"I've had feelings for you for a few months now," he breathed. "I didn't know how to tell you, since we'd just gotten back on friendly terms and I didn't want to ruin anything..."

"I've been doing the same thing," I said. We shared disbelieving laughs, and I surveyed Theseus fondly while he looked me up and down with the same care. Theseus leaned in and rested his forehead against mine, the smile still on his face and his voice still a little breathless when he spoke.

"So... I kind of need to go chase my brother now, but... any chance you'd let me take you to dinner tomorrow night?"

I beamed back at him, leaning up to give him a light, soft kiss before responding.

"I'd love that, Theseus."

"Good! Great. Then... it's a date."

"It's a date."

We shared another smile, Theseus still looking a little giddy as he at last stepped away from me and moved towards the door again. The sweet smile turned into more of a smirk as he took one step outside, on his way to follow the path his brother had taken not long ago.

"So... you're not going to try to stop me going after Newt anymore?" he asked, a little of the confident swagger I loved so much back in his tone and body language.

"No," I said with a shrug. "He's gotten far enough away by now that you can't catch him."

Theseus groaned and looked up at the sky, then settled his gaze back on me.

"I hope you're wrong, Y/N. But if you're not... you're buying the first round of drinks as compensation."

"You're on," I replied with a grin of my own. "Have fun on your wild goose chase! Don't let the Ministry people get you down. Newt's doing the right thing."

Theseus just sighed, although he wasn't quite able to keep a fond smile off his face. Whether it was for me, his brother, or the both of us, I wasn't sure.

He gave me one last smile and nod before finally heading all the way out the door, shutting it behind him as he resumed his work. I smiled after him and slowly sank down the wall, my fingers brushing over my lips where Theseus' had just been. It didn't seem quite real to me that the past few minutes had really happened, but I knew for a fact it was real. And that I had a date with Theseus Scamander tomorrow night.

Newt was never going to believe me when I told him the story. Helping him with his crazy shenanigans had never turned out so well.

#Harry Potter #fantastic beats and where to find them #theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #fantastic beasts fanfiction #fantastic beasts imagine #fantastic beasts oneshot #theseus scamander fanfiction #theseus scamander imagine #theseus scamander oneshot #1920s #wizarding world #newt scamander #jacob kowalski #Ministry of Magic #the scamander brothers #theseus x reader

[sturniozo]

Savage Love Part Four

Matt Sturniolo x reader Mafia AU

Masterlist

“How’d it go?” She asks as we walk to our desks.

“I didn’t get any information from him, he’s not a talker.” I reply and sip on my coffee.

“But you slept with him?” She asks easterly and I blush, nodding. “Oh my god, how was he?”

“Emma!”

“I need deets, girl!” She smiles at me. “Leave nothing out, go!” She leans back in her chair and sips her coffee.

“I’m not saying anything here, we’re at work.”

“Come on, y/n.” Emma groans. “Did you go down on him? Did he go down on you?” A faint blush appears on my cheeks. “Oh my god, he went down on you! Was he good?”

“Emma, I’m not talking about this.” I say trying to hide my flustered face from the rest of our coworkers.

“Did you at least use protection?” She asks and I pause. The silence was confirmation enough for her. “Oh my god, y/n even I make them wrap it!”

“I’m on birth control!” I whisper to her.

“That doesn’t matter, it’s a man you’ve never met! He could have an std!”

“I doubt the leader of the mafia has stds.”

“Did he have the all clear from a doctor and you confirmed it first? Did he ask you if you were good? What makes you think he asks other girls that and not you? He could and you just wouldn’t know!”

“He thought I was a virgin.” I mumble to her and her jaw drops.

“Oh my god that’s a scoop. That’s a big scoop. Matt Sturniolo has a corruption kink.” She says and her smile widens. “Your articles are gonna start to sound like mine.”

“Oh god. I want to help people, he seems so nice I don’t want to expose him.”

“If you didn’t want to expose people why did you become a journalist?”

“I want to bring attention to the struggles of the people.”

Emma pretends to gag before turning back to me. “Sorry, but that’s not something people will read.”

“That’s why I need to put the hidden messages in with my articles about Matt Sturniolo.”

“When are you meeting with him next?”

“Well, he didn’t want me to go this morning, so I bargained with him and he agreed to let me get to work if I meet him tomorrow night for dinner.”

“Is dinner code for sex?” Emma asks.

“Well probably, but he’s having me meet him at this nice restaurant in downtown New York.”

“Downtown huh?”

“I just can’t believe I didn’t get any information from him last night.”

“I dunno, the corruption kink thing might be good.” Emma shrugs.

“I just feel like I had sex with him for nothing.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “Nothing? Sex with Matt Sturniolo was nothing to you?”

“It was a hookup, I don’t do hookups.”

“Nothing.” She repeats, still surprised by my words.

“Emma, focus.” I snapp my fingers to get her attention.

“I am focused, you’re not. You’re the one who thinks that sex with Matt Sturniolo is nothing.”

“Stop saying his name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s-“

“The head of the fucking MAFIA?” Emma almost shouts.

“Emma keep your voice down, someone will hear.”

Emma groans and stares at me. She pauses for a moment before saying “So you’re meeting him tomorrow night, huh?”

~

I stand outside the restaurant that Matt had picked. My legs shake slightly from the chill air. The short black dress Emma let me borrow clung tightly to my figure, as Emma is a bit smaller than me. At 6:30 on the dot a black car pulls up and Matt steps out.

“Cold?” He asks me as he wraps his arm around my shoulders.

“Just a little.” I shrug. I look up at him and stare into his beautiful ocean blue eyes.

“Then let’s get you inside dollface.” He says and we walk inside the restaurant. The inside is beautiful with hand painted ceilings and beautifully carved columns.

“This looks like a museum, Matt.” I say with astonishment.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” We stop at the hostess station. “Reservation for Matt Sturniolo.” He says and the hostess nods, leading us to a table by the giant window.

“Oh my god, this is beautiful!” I say as Matt pushes my seat in for me.

“Well, dollface, you deserve a beautiful night out before I plow you like the little slut you are.” He whispers in my ear. He sits down in his own seat across from me and begins looking over the menu.

I open the menu as well and look it over. I can’t even pronounce half the things on the menu. I stare in shock, unable to even comprehend what I should order. I hear Matt chuckle.

“Is this too much for you?” He asks.

“I just… don’t understand what’s on the menu.” I laugh softly.

Matt chuckles again. “You’d like the crab wraps.” He suggests. “But that’s just an appetizer.”

I nod. “Okay…” I bite my lip and look back down at the menu.

“Maybe I should just order for you, huh dollface?” Matt sets down his menu and looks at me. “Do you want me to make all your decisions for you?” He reaches under the table and caresses my thigh. My breath hitches. “Do you like that pretty girl? Do you want to skip the dinner and go back to the hotel?” He asks in a low voice. “I thought my pretty girl would like a night out. It’s rude to use a girl just for sex, you know.”

A blush creeps up my cheeks. Now he’s talking. How do I get him to confirm he’s the leader of the Mafia in New York? I take a breath before asking “You’ve had a lot of practice with this then?”

Matt laughs and says “I’ve slept with a girl or two but never treated them as well as you, dollface.”

“Is that a line or something?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“You’re a stranger to me, I can’t believe anything you say.”

He laughs again and replies “So what do you want to know? Ask me anything.”

How do I go about this? I need to get the information I need out of him. I have to do it slowly. Maybe I can make this into an article for the paper, the inside mind of Matt Sturniolo.

“You look like you’re lost in thought there, dollface.” He laughs. “Got to much you wanna ask me?”

“Oh yes.” I laugh softly.

“Why don’t I start then? My names Matt Sturniolo, I’m 24 years old, I’m a triplet, and I have another brother besides that.” He starts. God I wish I was recording this, he talks so low and fast. “What about you, doll?”

“You’re a triplet?” I ask.

“Sure am.” He nods. “They both work with me too. They’re my best buds.”

“I didn’t know you were so soft.” I laugh lightly. “What do you do for work?”

Matt sighs “I oversee things.” He says after a short pause.

“What sort of things?”

“Businesses. People.” He shrugs. “It’s nothing worth talking about.”

“No, but I’m interested!” I plead, trying to get him to talk more.

“No, a pretty girl like you wouldn’t think what I do is anything worth talking about. Just look over the menu, dollface. I’ll make sure to order you some crab wraps.” Matt says with a smile and picks up the menu.

Well, I guess you could say it was progress.

Tags: @stargirlsturniololover @sturniolobessed @eyelessdemon00 @sturnioloenthusiast @sturniolopookie @urmommysbathroom @qwertytit @whatever1021 @chrisfavoritepepsi @stramboli4life @sturniolosreads @timmyscomputer

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matt imagine #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x fem reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #nick x reader

[thewordypeach]

Flesh Without Blood

Flesh without Blood (Forbidden Fruit)

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader, Tommy Miller x fem!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: 18+, smut!, no use of y/n, incest (stepsibling!!!), threesome, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected penetration x2, little bit of voyeurism, maybe some cuckold, mentions of punishment, implied rape, slight uncaring/cold-hearted... summary: There’s something beneath the surface, something that has been waiting to be unleashed. Something dark and feral. author's note: hello, this is my third story I've posted! and oooof, yeah... it is incest. but between stepsiblings (as if that makes it better??!?) i couldn't help myself okay! i know you want to be sandwiched between Tommy and Joel Miller as much as i do. also, i am sorry that the summary sucks - i'm not very good at them lol. umm, anyways, i hope you enjoy because i might have another incest-y story in the works... ;) xoxo the wordy peach &lt;3

Joel Miller’s rough exterior speaks to the life of survival the three of you’ve endured since the cordyceps outbreak. You watch as his chest expands and his shoulders pull back, making his already physically imposing body even more domineering than before. His face, rugged and weathered, twists into a scowl. Meanwhile, Tommy Miller’s exterior is merciful, exuding a softer, more lenient temper. His body language is casual. Less rigid. But his face is stricken with disappointment.

“I’ll give you a cut of whatever I make!” The contrast between the brothers makes you nervous, and you slowly start backing away. A sense of urgency makes you blurt out a new, better offer, “Whatever I make, I’ll give you a quarter - no! Half!”

Joel remains stoically hardened, but Tommy gives a disarming smile and barks a laugh, “What the hell are we going to do with the money?”

You shrug, “Buy some more guns?”

Tommy laughs again, and his entire face lights up. Tommy’s laid-back nature has always made him the easygoing of the two brothers, and even now, as they confront you about your secret business dealings, he seems to trust that you aren’t a threat. You might be slightly stupid, but you certainly aren’t dangerous.

“Oh, Nic,” Tommy shakes his head, and his face darkens as he approaches you. The sudden change in his demeanour makes you confused, and your body stills, becoming rigid and tense. His hand is quick, clamping down around your throat. Your breath hitches, and you reach up, grabbing his wrist. His hold on you is firm, and you struggle to remove his steellike grip.

“You think we’re fucking stupid?” He hisses, voice full of venom. He doesn’t squeeze, but his fingers flex around your throat, sending the message that he could easily choke you out. Your eyes dart to Joel, who isn’t stopping any of this - in fact, it looks like Joel is enjoying it. 

“Don’t look at him - look at me,” Tommy barks, “I’m the one who has you by the throat,” 

Your eyes snap to Tommy, and you squirm, trying to step back. Tommy glares, spitting out, “Never thought you’d be the one who would betray the family, Nic,”

“I wasn’t -” You grunt, still trying to pry his hand off your throat. By a fraction, Tommy’s grip tightens. “I wasn’t trying to fucking betray you - I was trying to fucking leave this shit hole,” 

At the admission of your actual plan, Tommy stops. His face softens ever so slightly, and his eyes, once hard and emotionless, shift into concern. His brows knit together, and he whispers, “Leave?”

You nod, eyes still panicked as they peer at Tommy. You know he’s the one you want to be bargaining with, but it’s still hard to admit the truth to Tommy. You reply, “I-I-I’m joining the Fireflies,”

Confusion floods Tommy’s face, and he presses, “You need money for that?”

Momentarily, you feel bad. It wasn’t money that you were after, but rather, you were gathering supplies for a mission which just happened to belong to your stepbrothers. You shake your head and bite your lower lip, considering your words, before cautiously speaking, “I needed the supplies for a mission Marlene is sending me on,” 

“Oh, that’s fucking rich, Nic - stealing from your own brothers,”

“Tommy, no - it’s not like that,” You say, voice breaking in the process. Tommy shakes his head, and the muscles in his hand, still holding your throat, flex and shift. 

“Then what’s it like, Nic?” Tommy asks. He sounds hurt; however, his neck is corded with tension and his lips are twisted into a wryly sneer.

“I know neither of you wants me around,” Your voice quivers as you speak, the weight of past rejections and present isolations bearing down on your heart. You know deep down that Tommy and Joel Miller, your brothers only by marriage, have never entirely accepted you as one of their own. 

There has always been a palpable tension that never seems to dissipate; something is always simmering beneath the surface. And now, decades later, that same tension remains in a world ravaged by a deadly fungus. Tears gather in your eyes as you confront the bitter wound that has never fully healed. 

Tommy’s tongue clicks against his teeth, tsking in disapproval, “Poor little Nicky thinks we don’t want her around, Joel….” 

You shake your head, “Tommy - please, don’t,”

Tommy glances at his older brother, “What do you have to say about this, Joel? Do we want little Nicky around?”

From the expression on Joel’s face, you think he is being asked what he thought of the weather because it is so casual, so aloof. Completely unaffected. You watch as Joel’s mouth moves. His voice is cold and detached: “You know what, Tommy? She is stupid for thinking that we don’t want her around, considering all we’ve done for her….”

Joel casually walks over, his brown eyes staring blankly at you. That is until a strange look flickers across his face. It’s a warning - you’ve seen it before. Your stomach drops, and you’re suddenly desperate to escape this situation, so you try to bargain with them, “Just let me go, and we can pretend this never happened, okay?” 

Still holding your neck, Tommy sweeps his thumb along your jaw and strokes little circles into it. It’s almost comforting. His head tilts to the side, and he peers at you, eyes blazing. It’s the lapse of silence that has you panicking again. His face tips down, and he presses his nose into your cheek, his hot breath cascading across your skin. 

“Oh, Nic…” Tommy murmurs, his lips flush against your cheek, “I know it’s hard to believe, but everything we’ve done, we did it for you,”

The implication makes your skin crawl. Lips quivering, you ask, “What are you talking about?”

Tommy’s voice is taut, filled with annoyance, “Stupid bitch doesn’t even know how many men we’ve stopped from ripping her apart -” His hand has moved from your throat to your jaw, holding it tightly between his fingers. He’s gazing at you with expanded pupils. There’s something beneath the surface, something that has been waiting to be unleashed. Something dark and feral. 

That’s when Joel presses his body into your back, and you realize you aren’t going anywhere. Your stomach twists and floods with despair, body submitting to him instantly. With a taunting undertone, Joel says, “Oh, Nicky… how can we convince you that we want you around?”

Tommy disagrees, huffing out, “Speak for yourself, Joel - Nicky has always been a pain in my ass,”

“Tommy,” Joel warns. The energy has shifted. It’s no longer hostile, but something taboo between the two brothers is unfolding. Tommy’s mouth twitches, and he sighs, relenting as Joel recounts a memory: “Remember that one summer when she wore that tiny bikini and paraded her body all around the yard? Like some goddamn peacock.” 

Tommy licks his lips, smirking at the memory. A prickling sensation shoots up your spine, and alarms start going off in the back of your mind. Frantically, you glance around the room. You already know there isn’t a way out of here, and even if there were, Joel and Tommy would never let you go. 

With a gruff voice, Joel asks, “Tommy, how does it feel having your fantasy come true?” 

A dreadful expression crosses your face, but underneath, there’s curiosity as bewilderment floods through you. Thinking of the past and present, searching for the signs of their secret desire - can it really be true? Tommy mumbles, “It only took a decade for it to happen,”

You shake your head, refusing to believe such things, “N-no, no….”

Wickedly, Tommy grins, “What, Nic? Are you trying to tell me that you never thought of us this way?” He cocks his head to the side, entertained by the defiant glare you’re giving him. It reminds him of the times he spent teasing you as a teenager; he had fun bullying you in those days.  

Firmly, you state, “No, I haven’t.” You’re disgusted by his insinuation: “It’s wrong,”

Tommy scoffs, laughing, “So, you didn’t write in your diary about how badly you wanted Joel to take your virginity?”

You stop, eyes blinking with disbelief. Your jaw slackens, mouth opening in shock. Tommy loves this look - he loves how you’re pretending to be all innocent when you are just as dirty as he and Joel. 

“I never wrote that,” You lie. Tommy rolls his eyes and gives you a playful look before his eyes travel down, taking inventory of your body. A possessiveness settles on his face as he hungrily gazes at your chest. He knows you hate wearing a bra, and even now, he can tell you aren’t wearing one. It’s in how your tits bounce and your nipples, perky and erect, poke through the fabric.

Tommy can’t stop himself and just has to reach up and pinch one. The pain is sharp and quick, making you squeal in surprise. You try to twist away, body turning, but Joel’s hands cinch around your waist, and he holds you against his solid body. Your attempt to fight back is futile. Utterly useless. You try to think of ways out of this, but your mind is giving up, and your body is giving in; Joel touching you makes you realize that the infatuation you once felt for him has never really gone away. 

“I…I was young and stupid,” You hastily admit to the secret you’ve been harbouring for decades, “I … I thought it’d be hot to fuck one of you - can you blame me, though? Both of you were constantly bringing girls over to fuck -”

“Aw, Nicky. Were you jealous?” Tommy coos as his finger completes a circle or two around your nipple. The sensation is causing pressure to build in the crest of your crotch, and you hate yourself for it. It’s wrong, totally wrong -

“If I’m being honest, Nic… I was jealous of your little boyfriend - what was his name again? Gregory? Geoff?” 

Joel says, “Garret,”

“Ahh, yeah. Garret. He’s the one who popped your cherry,” Disappointment lines Tommy’s voice, and he pouts, jealous that it wasn’t him. Unhurried, Tommy drags a finger down, down, down and slips his hand underneath your shirt. You inhale sharply as Tommy’s hand dances across your stomach, tickling you. Goosebumps explode across your skin, and you struggle to remain indifferent, but his touch sends mixed signals to your brain. 

Teasingly, Tommy presses, “Whatever happened to Garret? Hmmm, Nic? What happened to him?” 

You bite your lip, trying to remember. Garret was your first boyfriend. Your first love. Or so, that’s what you thought. Teenage boys can be so fickle. “He… he broke my heart - cheated on me with some dumb whore,” 

“Do you regret him being your first? Do you wish it was Joel or me who took your precious little flower?” Tommy circles back to your old diary entry. You refuse to admit it, mouth clamping shut. But it’s the way your body presses into Joel’s body that gives your secret away. Intrigued, Tommy studies your subtle movement. He knows that you’ve always had something for Joel - after all, Joel is the protective older brother who’s reliable and stable. Always has been.

“Well, Nic…” Tommy’s voice fades off. His hand underneath your shirt trails up and cups your breast. It’s soft and pillowy, exactly how he imagined. His voice is low, but his intentions are evident as he speaks: “What if you got the best of both worlds? What if Joel and I take you….” 

He’s massaging your tit, kneading the plump flesh. He tweaks your nipple, softer this time, and a little gasp escapes from your throat, betraying you. Traderous sparks begin to envelop your body. Your breath hitches as you ask, “And what happens if I refuse?” 

You know you won’t be backing out of this because Tommy’s words are true. You’ve been lusting after Joel for years, and if the world hadn’t gone to total shit, you wouldn’t be standing here, considering Tommy’s insane offer. But in this post-apocalyptic world, nothing matters, not even the familial bonds you share with them. Your eyes shutter closed as you try to steady your breathing. The anticipation and nervousness are unbearable. 

“Nothing bad, if that’s what you’re wondering, darlin’...” Joel assures you in a calm, steady voice. His hands haven’t moved from their spot on your waist. The grip he has on you is gentle, reassuring. It's as if he’s trying to comfort you, and in some weird, fucked up way, it’s working. There’s no aggression or force in his touch, and the proximity of his body makes it hard for you to ignore the bulge pressing into your back. 

“Nothing bad?” You repeat. 

“Nothing bad,” Tommy and Joel say in unison. Their words soothe your nerves, but only a little. You take a deep breath, trying to settle your racing heart. You know that you can trust them and that they won’t hurt you. But still. The idea of being intimate with them is overwhelming - 

“Get on your knees -” Tommy instructs. 

Joel interjects, “Go slow, Tommy - we have all night with her,”

Tommy scowls, annoyed with his brother. However, you are already sliding down to the floor. A smug look flickers over Tommy’s face, and he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his jeans. To your surprise, he’s not wearing underwear, and his cock falls out. It’s big, and it points right at you. You peer at it, frozen in shock. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, but suddenly, you’re left wondering if Joel is also blessed with a gift of this size. Or maybe, Tommy is the one who lucked out in the genetics department -

“You’ve sucked a cock before, haven’t you, Nic?” Tommy asks as his fingers touch your chin and his thumb swipes across your lower lip, opening your mouth. You nod, and slowly, Tommy’s cock replaces his hand. He makes a soft hissing sound as your lips slide down his shaft.

“Fuck,” Tommy threads his fingers through your hair as you babble around his cock. It’s a bit too deep for your liking, but a switch gets flicked, and all you want to do is prove yourself - you want to prove to your brother that you can suck cock. You hold his hips and bob your head, working your tongue against his arousal. But apparently, it’s not enough for Tommy because he starts thrusting in and out of your mouth, his cock reaching a dangerous depth, which causes your eyes to swell with tears. 

“I’ve dreamt of this filthy little mouth,” Eyes narrowing into slits, Tommy completely immerses himself into the fantasy. He can’t believe you are here, on your knees, sucking his cock. Joel loves it too, admiring how well you are doing, but he doesn’t like how rough Tommy is - he’s practically yanking your head down his shaft, making you gag and sputter. However, you don’t seem fazed by it. 

Joel can’t help but wonder if you’re genuinely enjoying it, and he knows the answer lies between your thighs. He kneels, hand snaking around your stomach and shoving into the waistband of your pants. You let out a muffled gasp of surprise but continued to gag and sputter around Tommy’s cock. Joel’s fingers are slow, but they move with purpose, and he teasingly presses them into your panties. He whispers into your ear, “You’re so fucking wet… does sucking your brother’s cock turn you on that much?” 

He taunts your clit, fingers circling it but never quite touching it. You’re gasping for air, hot tears tracking down your cheeks. Tommy quickly wipes them away, a tender action that leaves you feeling cared for as he continues to fuck your face. Joel senses your discomfort and tells Tommy to ease off. 

“Fuck, just let me -” Tommy groans, a familiar ache in his balls. He’s so fucking close; the tension is becoming unbearable. However, Tommy has to resign himself because he still wants to fuck you, and hastily, Tommy removes his cock from your mouth, groaning as a trail of spit dangles between your mouth and the tip of his well-sucked cock.

You greedily suck the air back into your lungs, chest heaving. Your eyelids flutter as Joel continues to apply pressure through the fabric of your panties, but you need more. You need him inside. Daringly, you ask: “Can we move this to the bed?” 

Tommy and Joel share a look. It’s so quick that you almost miss it. Joel stands, lifting you in the process. He twirls you around, places his large hands on your hips, and kisses you like a man starved. Joel doesn’t give a damn that you had Tommy’s cock in your mouth because Joel has been waiting for this and doesn’t want to hold back. He gives it all to you, nipping and sucking your lower lip. When Joel’s tongue touches yours, you groan. 

As your heart thrums wildly inside your chest, liquid heat pools in your core. It’s so wrong that it’s right. Any morals you once had are long gone. They don’t exist anymore. Joel cups your ass, gripping the fleshy mounds. You gasp, and Joel smiles before his lips travel down your jaw, planting kisses down to your neck, where his teeth graze your collarbone. His hands move up and play with the hem of your shirt, and in one swift motion, he lifts it off your body and tosses it to the side. 

Joel’s mouth continues to travel downward, and he closes his mouth against your tit. He’s all teeth and tongue with continuous suction — meanwhile, his other hand twists and tweaks your other nipple between his thumb and finger. Little mewls spill forth from your mouth, and your hands are groping Joel’s bulge through his jeans, desperate to feel his cock. 

“Take your pants off, Joel,” You demand, and to your surprise, he obeys. Joel strips and tosses his clothes. Unlike his brother, Joel wears underwear with a humorous pattern of hearts. It’s quite the contrast to his imposing physical ruggedness. It makes you smile and giggle - Joel’s eyebrow lifts quizzically. You shake your head, and the next thing you know, Joel is helping you out of your pants and lowering you down to the mattress where Tommy is already lying, waiting. His clothes have already been discarded. 

“I want to taste you,” Joel murmurs. You watch as the slightest tinge of pink rises to his cheeks. It makes you giddy. Only in your dreams has Joel said such things. Joel hovers, pushing your thighs open with his palms, kneeling between them, sliding lower and lower. He hooks a finger on your panties and glides them off your hips; they join the rest of the forgotten clothes in the room. 

Joel marvels at your glistening pussy that’s so swollen from having been kept in a state of anticipation. His fingertips sink so easily into your folds, parting them and gliding his digits through the slickness of arousal seeping out. Your head tilts back, eyes closing from the pleasure steadily streaming through your body. Joel lowers his face, inhaling your tantalizing scent, which unleashes a throaty moan from his chest. He’s gentle when carving a path through your arousal with his tongue, noting how your thighs twitch ever so slightly when he glides over your throbbing clit. 

“Mmm, how does she taste, Joel?” Tommy asks, voice breaking through the silence between the three of you—Joel answers by grunting. He’s a man of few words, even now. The vibration makes you clench and groan as your hands thread themselves through Joel’s hair because you need something to hold onto. His tongue circles your clit before licking downward and dipping into your wet hole. 

You hiss at the intrusion, “Fuck, Joel,” Never fucking ever did you think your brother would be this fucking good at eating pussy -

“Joel has quite the tongue, doesn’t he, Nic?” Tommy hums as he shifts his body, lying down next to you. His mouth hovers above your shoulder, and his warm breath strews across your skin as he lowers to your breast, tongue flicking your nipple. You groan as your brain goes hazy at the dual pleasure that is coursing through your body.

You don’t know what to focus on: Joel, who is ravaging your pussy, eating it like it's his last meal on earth, or Tommy, who is manhandling your tits, biting, sucking, and marking his territory by breaking your skin’s capillaries. 

Your chest heaves, and your teeth sink into your cheek. Liquid heat blossoms in your core, and your fingers grip Joel’s hair, practically ripping it out as his tongue takes a long, broad stroke up to your clit. You gasp as he sucks it into his mouth, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“You like that, Nic? You like it when Joel sucks your clit?” Tommy has quite a filthy mouth on him, and you nod, eagerly agreeing with his statement.

“Need more, though,” You murmur, and you watch as Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, yeah? Little Nicky needs more?” Tommy teases before instructing Joel to add a finger or two, and just like that, Joel’s middle finger is circling your tight, wet hole. Tapping at it, applying the lightest pressure before it sinks inside. You’re shifting continuously, trying to adjust and make room - you can't remember the last time someone penetrated you, and Joel’s finger is so thick.  

“Relax, Nicky,” Joel rasps out, “I’m not going to hurt you….”

You order yourself to relax, but Joel can tell it’s still too much for you because he has to hold down your hip, stilling it, with his other hand. Once more, Joel latches his mouth to your clit, and twirls bud tongue around it. When Joel adds a second digit, you give a half-yelp. And when Joel curls his fingers, hooking them inside, pressing against that sweet spongy spot, heat floods your body.

Your hips grind into his face, desperately wanting more - no - needing more. Joel knows you are close to releasing because your walls clench around his fingers, and your moans have become more frequent and erratic. You’re begging, pleading, to cum.

He closes his eyes and plunders his way through, lapping and sucking your every fold. He’s tuning you to a rhythm that has your hips rising to meet his pistoning fingers, and that’s when Joel hits that perfect combination, unleashing a wave that swells and rolls across your body. Your back arches off the mattress, squealing, “Oh, fucking hell, Joeeeeel-” 

Your core tightens, and your toes curl as bright lights burst across your shuttered eyelids. Sticky wetness pours out, covering Joel’s finger and mouth, but he doesn’t stop until you’re thrashing beneath him. Unable to take any more, you gently push him away; otherwise, you know he won’t be stopping anytime soon. 

Having denied his meal, Joel gives you a sullen look with pouty lips that glisten with your nectar. You shudder at the sight and reach for Joel’s body because you need him and his cock. You tug off his boxers, springing free a heavy and lengthy cock, similar to Tommy’s. At the sight of pre-cum dribbling down from his slit, your mouth waters. 

“Like what you see, Nic?” Joel rasps as his hand reaches down, closing his fist around it. He pumps it once, twice, and you swear, it’s bigger than before. Your eyes widen, thinking it’s too big - this is something you haven’t considered before. Your past partners definitely did not measure up to what your brothers are packing. 

“It’s so big….” Your voice trails off, heat blossoming across your cheeks. You feel silly for asking, “Is it even going to fit?”

Joel smirks, “Oh, darlin’... that’s why Tommy goes first -” 

“That’s fucking right,” Tommy growls. Suddenly, Tommy’s hands groped your body, pulling you up the mattress so you’re in its center. Joel sees your disappointment. He knows you want him to be the first, but Joel and Tommy prefer it this way. It’s not only better for them, but it’s also better for you. Tommy’s cock is the perfect starter. Meanwhile, Joel’s cock is the perfect finisher. 

Tommy looks elated as he positions himself between your thighs, cock in his hand as he nudges it through your slick, wet folds. A deep, throaty moan spills out of his mouth, and he pushes his cock into your entrance. Your cunt is pliant now but still not loose enough, he comments, “Ah, what a tight fucking cunt you got, Nic,” 

It hurts, but it’s a good hurt. The type that makes you want more, and so you open your thighs, making room for Tommy. His body vibrates with tension, and he glides his cock forward, sinking into wetness with a sudden thrust. Your mouth falls open, “Shit, Tommy -”

“Fucking hell, Nicky,” He groans, rolling his hips back and snapping them forward as your velvety hole welcomes every inch of him. His throat bobs, sucking in a sharp breath, “Fucking better than I could’ve ever imaged,”

“Yeah?” You reply breathlessly. You hate to admit it, but dirty-talking Tommy is doing inexplicable things to your body and mind. You need to hear more; his encouragement alone could easily drive you to another orgasm. 

“Yeah, Nic - fucking perfect cunt,” Tommy drops his head against your shoulder, his cock nuzzled deep in your cunt. He’s trying to catch his breath, and he’s trying not to spill his entire load right then and there. But having you in this position, your walls suctioning all around him, is making him disintegrate. 

His stomach flexes, struggling to remain composed - fuck. The lack of pussy has him weak, skirting the edge of an orgasm all too soon. He’s barely even fucked you. He’s disappointed in himself. You feel Tommy’s embarrassment, and you wrap your arms around his torso, whispering into his ear, “C’mon, Tommy… don’t you want to make my pussy feel good?”

You start rocking your hips, needing more friction than what he can give. He hisses at the movement, body trembling against yours, “Fuck me, Tommy - fuck me,” Your legs shift around, locking Tommy in place as your pussy clenches around his cock, coaxing him to move. To do something. 

“You feel so good,” You lick and nip at his earlobe. He hisses in response, his hips slowly bucking to meet yours. He’s trudging forward, head hanging low, trying not to blow his entire load. 

“Mmm, do you like my pussy -”

“No more talking,” Tommy tries to quell you. Eyes closed, jaw straining, “You’re gonna make me cum, talking like that,”

Cockily, you continue to spew filth at him, “Oh, yeah, Tommy? Are you gonna cum in my pussy - are you gonna come in your sister’s pussy?”

Heart pumping wildly inside his chest, Tommy’s body seizes, and his orgasm punches through. A shaky groan, gritty and low, escapes from his chest. The room fills with ragged breathing as he ejaculates his sticky seed in your cunt. As his cock twitches and empties, Tommy shudders and gasps into your shoulder. 

His body presses against yours, needing momentary support as he wrestles with himself, feeling mortified at his lack of stamina. He used to go for hours; hell, girls would line up for a chance with Tommy fucking Miller. So, it takes him an extra moment to convince himself that this was just a one-off. 

“Next time?” He whispers, hoping - what is the likelihood you’ll be down for another round? You plant a tender kiss against his chin, hands sweeping across his sweaty temple, repeating, “Next time,”

His eyes, full of potential, snap to yours. He gives you a sheepish smile. You know you will want more after tonight because what else is there to do in this post-apocalyptic world?

Tommy moves, and as soon as he does, Joel is there to replace his brother. You barely have time to think before Joel is raising your knees, angling them apart.  Joel’s movements are quick and precise. He’s been restlessly watching you get fucked, and he’s relieved that Tommy only took five minutes because now, it’s his turn. Joel feels like he has been waiting his entire life for this moment; now, it’s here. It’s actually happening. 

A giddiness rushes over Joel, and his stomach flutters with anticipation as his eyes hungrily glaze over. He’s ready, so fucking ready to give you what you deserve. Teasingly, Joel glosses the tip of his cock past your poised entrance and rubs it against your delectable wet folds that have unmistakable evidence of Tommy. Your response is a throaty groan, watching Joel mix the precum leaking from his cock with Tommy’s leftovers.

You’re feeling lightheaded, dizzy with desire. Oh, how you’ve craved Joel. You spent decades yearning for him; you went far too long feeling like a depraved little slut for wanting to fuck your step-brother. Your perverted little fantasy is finally coming true - you have him right where you want.

Joel takes the plunge, his cock nudging into your cunt. It’s almost too much. Without Tommy’s cock to start you off, Joel would’ve never fit. You peek at the point of penetration; the sight is better than anything you dreamed of. Except his cock isn’t entirely inside - not even half. Joel definitely has an extra inch or two than Tommy. You wiggle and squirm, breathing out a scattered whimper that exudes impatience.

“Joel,” You mewl, hands groping his neck and chest. You need something to hold onto because he’s starting to push against the resistance. Joel grunts as your tight velvet walls keenly greet his cock, welcoming him inside. He doesn’t stop until he has bottomed out, cock buried to the hilt. Splitting and spreading you open, almost until a breaking point where you’re gasping at being so filled. He barely moves an inch, and your walls automatically clench, sealing around him. 

“Shit, Nic - Tommy’s right. Your cunt is so fucking tight,” Joel pulls out, and his hands slide to the small of your back, lifting into your body as he pushes back into molten wetness. He does this over and over, rubbing against the spot in your velvet channel. Your thighs tremble as a blissful pleasure travels up your spine. However, you ache for more friction. 

Noise pitches from the back of your throat, “Harder, Joel - fuck me harder,” 

And he does. He pushes your knees against your chest and tilts his hips, snapping forward with such force that you cry out, your nails digging into the side of his torso. In a matter of seconds, Joel’s thrusts have become exploratory - going from shallow to deep, reaching a point of no return as he plunders forward.

Your entire body begins pulsating, a feverish wave rolling through. A second climax is upon you, the throes of euphoria building inside your body as Joel swiftly continues, elated that he’s about to give you what you deserve. You are panting incoherent nonsense as Joel relentlessly drives his cock in and out, in and out. 

He slides a hand between your bodies, quickly finding your clit and tweaking it between his finger and thumb. Your pelvis canted upwards to meet his touch. Urgently, you gasp, needing more pressure because it’s insufficient. Joel, somehow an expert in your body, does precisely that.

Joel palms your clit, sending continuous shocks across your core, making it impossible to ignore the building pressure. When you hit the peak, it’s an endless stream of obscenities. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You thrash beneath him, thighs squeezing shut, but Joel rips them open. He charges his hips into yours, riding your orgasm out; he loves how your smooth walls flutter around his cock, milking him. Cock drenched with your juices, Joel plows, his thrusts becoming shallow and rough. He grabs your hips, trying to control them, but you continue to undulate beneath him, desperately trying to meet his rhythm because you want Joel to fill your cunt with his cum. 

“Fill my pussy, Joel, fill it -” You coax him, voice reedy, hitching on the last word. Joel’s eyes shuttered close, his lashes like dark half-moons against his skin. Your pussy is persistent, swallowing his cock without resistance now. 

A rush of ecstasy flits through Joel’s body, and within seconds, the tension of the coil is snapping. He loses control, and his strokes stutter out, cock surging with a powerful load of spunk that paints the inside of your cunt.

“Holy fuck, Nic,” Joel’s head snaps back, his throat shuddering as he tries to calm the carnal rush raging through his body. His cock twitches and convulses as it continues to empty weeks' worth of pent-up frustration. You marvel at the feeling of being stuffed with your brother’s warm seed, legs locking around his waist because you need every single drop. 

As it ends, Joel’s energy drains. The excitement has dulled into the tranquility of release. As he gently pulls out of the warmth, his movements are sluggish. You feel the remnants of your brother's love seeping out of your gaping, used hole. Your taboo appetite has been satiated, and you’re excited about the prospect of what will happen next time. You are thinking of taking both their cocks at the same time when Joel’s voice interrupts the daydream: “Still thinking of leaving us, Nic?”

You give a breathy giggle, "No, I'm thinking about what it feels like to fuck the both of you at the same time,"

#Joel Miller x fem!reader #Tommy Miller x fem!reader #smut #joel miller smut #tommy miller smut #joel miller fanfic #tommy miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x reader #thewordypeachwrites #wpw

[floatyflowers]

The Adopted Princess| Dark! Targaryen and Velaryon Boys x Reader (Aegon II, Aemond, Jacaerys, Lucerys) V

"Your father and I going to miss you so much, my dear" Rhaenyra says as she and Laenor, both, pull you into a tight hug.

"Me too"

You pull away from them, your lips quivering as you try to stop yourself from crying.

However, when Jacaerys and Lucerys hug you, that's when you break down.

"That's not fair, you are supposed to be my wife, not his, I would treat you much better than Aemond" Jacaerys exclaims angrily.

"It is all my fault, (Y/n), please don't leave!" Lucerys cries out, feeling guilty that he is the reason why you are leaving them.

"I believe the king already arranged the whole thing before the fight, so don't blame yourself, Luke" you assure him.

"But it is true, we dragged you into this fight and you even got hurt because of us" Rhaena exclaims. 

"And Aemond is cruel, and he might treat you badly" Baela adds with a sad tone.

You stay silent, wanting to say that Aemond has been treating you kindly and you two were exchanging letters but decided against it.

Just because he is your friend and future husband, it doesn't excuse him from calling your brother 'bastards' and also claiming Vhagar, even though the dragon is the one who chose her rider.

"If he ever upsets you, I will shove my sword into his good eye" Daemon states all of a sudden, smirking at you.

You smile at his overprotectiveness, nevertheless, you still can't believe that the rough prince is your grandfather.

"I wonder why my father didn't allow you to raise me" you inquire.

"Because he is chaotic," Rhaenyra says, grinning at her uncle.

"But, aren't all dragons chaotic though?" you point out playfully, easing up a bit.

Daemon stares at you, realizing how you have his son's smile and playful attitude.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but the ship is ready to departure"

Alicent says after walking up to you and your family like she didn't try to poke out Luke's eye the other day.

"I'm ready to leave, your highness," you say timidly, which made the queen smile, and link her arm with yours.

"Oh dear, no need for formality, just call me mother" Alicent insists, making Rhaenyra glare at her angrily.

While you and the queen ascend the ship, Lucerys notices Aemond smirk down at him and Jacaerys from the ship, mocking them.

As if he is trying to say, that 'you might have taken my eye out, but I claimed Vhagar and (Y/n)'

However, Aemond doesn't realize that the real danger is his older brother.

𑁍𑁍❀𑁍𑁍

You stare down at the water, tears still wet on your cheeks while anxiety is eating at you in slow motion.

Even though the queen showed good intentions toward you, yet, you still feel afraid, after all, you don't have anyone by your side in King's landing if something would happen.

Yes, the king promised your mother and grandfather to keep you safe, something which Daemon laughed at, due to the king's declining health.

If something would ever happen between you and Aemond, let's say a fight for example, who would stand by your side?

No one, absolutely no one.

"Princess?"

You quickly turn around to face Larys Strong, surprised to even see him.

That man never approached you, sometimes you would catch him inspecting you just like he does with everyone, but he never spoke to you. 

"Lord Larys," you say, softly, trying to look anywhere so he doesn't see your red-shot eyes.

"It saddens me to see you crying my princess," the cunning man says, offering you a handkerchief to wipe your tears. 

You take it from him, smiling in gratitude at his kind gesture.

"May I know what worries you, princess?" Larys inquires, standing beside you.

"I just feel like I'm a bargain of peace in this arranged marriage" you confess.

"Oh, I don't think you should think of it in this way, my dear, it will benefit you greatly" you frown in confusion.

"How would it benefit me?"

Before Larys could answer you, Aegon storms up to you.

"There you are, I have been searching everywhere for you..." Aegon stops when he sees the new lord of Harrenhal.

"Greetings, Lord Strong" the Targaryen prince greets the man with a spiteful tone at his instruction with you.

"My prince" Larys greets him back, bowing his head a bit before Aegon turns his attention fully towards you.

"You need to rest, this trip will be long and tiring, and your stupid dragon almost bit my finger off" you roll your eyes at him.

"That's because Quicksilver hates arrogant brats" you mumble, rushing away before Aegon asks you what you just said.

Aegon turns to Lary and sneers at him.

"Stay away from her, you fucking creep"

With that, Aegon follows after you, leaving him standing alone.

Larys would do anything but stay away from you, that's for sure.

After all, your father was a dear friend of his.

𑁍𑁍❀𑁍𑁍

"What are you doing here, Aemond?" You question the said boy, looking at him sleepy.

"I came here to apologize about what I did to you the other day, I had no right" your gaze softens at his apology.

"You should also apologize to Jace, Luke, Baela, and Rhaena when you meet them again" Aemond scoffs at this sentence.

"They started it, they attacked me first because Vhagar accepted me as her new rider" the silver-haired boy defends himself.

"You called my brothers bastards" Aemond chuckles.

"Aren't they though?" you narrow your eyes at him.

"No, they are not-" he stops you.

"Yes, they are, and if you are to become my wife, then you must stand by my side and support my views"

You stay silent, not knowing what to say.

It's true, that once a woman gets married into her husband's family, she is expected to support her husband even against her own family. 

Aemond grabs your hands into his warm, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"My family is now your family, you have to support Aegon's claim to the throne, by doing that, you are doing your duty"

You gulp, coming to realize the fact that Aemond has changed.

"And if I don't?" 

His grasp tightens on your hands, his stare becoming colder.

"Then I will force you to do your duty"

Part VI

Taglist:

Honestly, too many people to tag, and I just needed to update quickly, sorry 🥺

#tw: toxic relationships #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #yandere house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader

[huihuiheart]

Kinktober 2023 D2: Two Can Play - Ateez - Werewolf! Wooyoung

Navigation

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Ateez Masterlist

Pairing:  Werewolf! Wooyoung x Werewolf! Afab Reader

Genre: Smut, Some Slight Fluff

Summary: Hongjoong comes to you desperate to find help for Wooyoung through his rut, though perhaps you get more than you bargained for.

Warnings: Switch! Wooyoung, Switch! reader, dirty talk (praise and degradation), teasing from both sides, oral (reader receiving), choking (Wooyoung receiving), manhandling, bondage, unprotected sex, breeding kink.

Word Count: 2288

As soon as Hongjoong approached you, you knew something was off.  It wasn’t often he just approached you to check up on things. No, he had his own ways of taking note of that, so for him to approach you it was often something rather serious. The worry in his eyes only cemented your thoughts that something was going on.

“Y/N I need your help...” Hongjoong finally speaks up, lip pulling up between his teeth. 

“Of course Joongie, what’s wrong? You know I’ll always do all I can to help out.” You try to reassure him, but it’s hard with how little you’re clued into what is going on.

“Okay...don’t feel obligated to help though. I understand if you want to say no and that is perfectly fine.” He still hesitates some with a sigh, “It’s Wooyoung.. his rut came and there’s no one to help him out. I know you and him aren’t as familiar, but I really have no one else to ask for help, and he’s just in pain, and I don’t know what else to do.”

You pout a little at the amount of emotion rolling off Hongjoong, it is obvious that seeing the younger who he was so fond of like that was weighing on him and pushed him to branch out a little more than the introverted alpha typically would. Wooyoung was sweet enough too, despite the chaos he caused that you weren’t sure you really minded helping out, especially with his looks mixed in as well.

“Are you sure he wouldn’t mind me helping him out? That can be rather intense and intimate at times.” You try to assure knowing that in his current state, Wooyoung likely would just make an instinctive choice and not necessarily the one he would want when it was all said and done.

“Yes, trust me yes. Some of the others might know you as well, but they have eyes... they’re not dumb. They look at you and want you, he won’t mind one bit...trust me.” Hongjoong assures you, though he can still see the uncertainty etched into your eyes. "Please Y/N, there's really not another way."

You sign, "Fine Hongjoong, let me go get a few things so I'm prepared and let me know where to go."

It truly doesn't take you long to grab the few necessities you'd need knowing you'd be couped up for some time if you were to help Wooyoung through this. Noting how a loud growl sounds from upstairs as soon as you step into the home.

"Here's the key. There should be plenty of food stocked up, but we'll bring some more tonight just in case, and if you need anything call me." Hongjoong spits out rather rushed as he quickly ushers the other boys out so they can bolt. Yet not before one of them can tease.

"And don't forget protection~" San teased as Hongjoong shoved him through the doorway so that it would just be you and Wooyoung in the home.

Taking a shaky breath you slowly make your way towards the bedroom, each step seeming slightly more daunting than the last until you're slowly pushing the door open. Finding Wooyoung chained to the bed, the man growling out as his eyes lock with your form sending a shudder down your spine affecting you already. That mixed with the heady scent of him and his rut pheromones filling the air.

"Y/N are you really here? Or am I hallucinating again?" Wooyoung finally finds himself asking, his voice slightly coarse from being in this state so long.

"You...you hallucinated about me? Like this? Now?" Your words are breathy, Wooyoung scoffing at the incredulous tone you had now. 

“Fuck have you seen yourself? Of course, I did. I refused help from anyone else, all I’ve wanted this whole time was you. So won’t you please stop tormenting me and come help me out?” By the end of what he was saying Wooyoung’s words were coming out in a growl. 

It was your turn to raise a brow now, “Oh? Who said I was going to?”

“We’re the only ones here sweetheart, and no way the others would let you in without you knowing. Plus that key in your hands tells me that you agreed to come here and give me what I’ve been dying to have for so long.” Wooyoung smirks, watching your expression change as you almost feel as though you’re the one trapped for a second. 

You’re not ready to give it up though, deciding to take it up a level and make your way over to him. Getting on the bed you throw a leg over his hips, close enough to let him feel the heat of your body above his. One of your hands trailing up his exposed chest.

“Look at you, practically undressed already. Are you sure you’ve been waiting for me? Cause it looks an awful lot like you haven’t.” You tease, watching his eyes glaze over at your touch, his head already fuzzy at barely feeling you.

“I-I was good. I waited. No matter who offered help I denied it because if it wasn’t you then it wouldn’t matter.” He finally gets out as your touch melts him. Watching with hooded eyes as you lean in closer letting him catch a glimpse down your shirt as you do. 

“So good for me huh?’ You praise nipping at his chest before soothing it over, the moan he rewards you with sending a shiver down your spine. Wooyoung nearly snarls as he catches the scent of your arousal as a result, the sound only making it worse. “Oh hush pup, I thought you were gonna be good for me.”

“Hm, that depends... what will it get me?” You wipe the smug look off his face only a second later when you’re unbuttoning your shirt, Wooyoung instantly shutting up, eyes fixated on your actions.

“Like I would just tell you. No. Even that would be too easy for a brat like you.” You scoff, shrugging it off your shoulders now, “But perhaps I’ll let you have a taste if you decide to behave for me.”

Wooyoung whimpers at just the thought, squirming slightly, “Please, I’ve dreamed of it for so long. Please let me have a taste of you. You smell so good already, but you’re too far away.” 

You put two fingers under his chin tilting his head up to look you in the eyes, “Keep your eyes on mine and you can have it, but you look away even for a second, and well... that’s just too bad.” 

Wooyoung’s lip is between his teeth as he tries his best to listen to you, his defiance disappearing at the thought of finally having his craving for you satisfied. The sight of his canines peaking out sends another rush through you, his ears twitching at the sound of your pants coming undone yet he holds out, eyes locked on yours. 

“Look at you, my good boy.” You move up, straddling over his head now, as he tugs against the chains wishing his hands could just pull you down the last few inches between your dripping cunt and his mouth. Your hand tangling into his hair and tugging enough to pull him from the haze makes him moan, the feeling of his breath almost making you lose your patience too. “Promise you’re going to make me feel so good? Gonna make sure I’m able to take the best care of you?”

Wooyoung couldn’t care less that your questions came out in such a condescending tone as long as it meant he could have you, “ Yes, please. I promise. I want nothing more.”

His sweet begs were almost what broke you, but the final straw was when you noticed how his eyes glistened just slightly with unshed tears Wooyoung so close to breaking beneath you. So how could you possibly resist that, especially when you wanted this so badly as well. The second you lowered yourself you felt him moaning against you, tongue eagerly lapping as he tried to get every last drop of you. Sure he was looking to please you, but in this initial moment, he couldn’t help but selfishly focus on his own desires to absolutely drown in you. Though his moans certainly helped work you up more, not just in the way they sounded so beautiful but also in how perfect they felt against you as well. Now it felt so easy for Wooyoung to keep his eyes on you, watching you falling apart above him despite acting as though you were in charge of him, your fingers tangled so tightly in his hair and scratching at the base of his ears, back arched, mouth opening to the prettiest sounds, as your eyes fluttered shut. Still, there was something he wanted to see, a small smirk crossing his lips before they were around your clit, sucking hard. The suddenness of it makes your eyes shoot open again lurching forward, shaking above him.

“Fuck Wooyoung!” He practically purred against your clit at hearing your voice finally call his name out like this, nearly screaming it even. Before he’s pouting as you pull back, tongue coming out to lick you off his slightly swollen lips.

“No, come back~” He whines, trying to lift up enough to chase after you, “You’re so sweet, but I just know you’ll taste even better cumming for me.”

You chuckle, leaning down and placing a kiss to his forehead to quiet him before you’re moving down just slightly to capture his lips in a heated kiss, pulling away only once you’re both breathless. “As tempting as that is, I have a feeling that if I’m supposed to keep up with you through the rest of your rut I should wait to do that on your cock.”

Looking down you notice the wet patch on his boxers and now you’re licking your lips, but that could wait for another time after all there’d be many opportunities in the next few days you were sure. 

“Just a little desperate for me Woo?” You tease grinding down on him before pulling away to remove his boxers, something that caused you both to gasp for different reasons. 

“You’ve been plaguing my mind for the past day and a half, of course, I am.” He moans as you slowly sink down onto him. His eyes watch as you toy with the key in front of his face while staying still.

“You gonna be good if I let you go?” You ask and the mischief that shows on his face is almost answering for you and so you find yourself continuing before he can, “ You fuck me up and I’ll return the favor.”

“Is that a promise?” Wooyoung attempts to hide his smirk by biting his lip, gasping as your fingers grip his throat, squeezing just enough to get his attention.

“Shut it pup!” You hiss out, reaching forward and unlocking the chains around each wrist. The second that they’re both done you feel the world spinning around you before you’re face first in the mattress, hips up. Wooyoung pushing into you from behind. 

He leans down to nip at the shell of your ear with a chuckle, “Hold on sweetheart, because I’m about to fuck you up.”

You gasp as he throws your words back at you, the sound warping into a moan as he starts thrusting into you.

“See I’m going to ruin anyone else for you. Make sure your mind is as filled with me as mine is with you, and then when your heat comes and you turn into the prettiest little slut for me I’ll come to help you out like you so sweetly came to do for me.” Wooyoung’s words instantly affect you and you swear each time you clench around him he picks up the pace and feels even deeper than he was before. 

Neither of you will last long, especially not Wooyoung with you babbling incoherently about how good his cock feels in you. Yet he holds off just a little longer, still wanting something else. He leans in towards your ear again, a hand leaving your hips and going between your legs to rub quick circles onto your clit.

“You know I heard San remind you to use protection.” Wooyoung laughs breathlessly against your ear, “Did you really forget sweetheart? Or are you hoping that I’ll breed you? Make you my little cumdump?”

You can’t control your words enough to properly answer, but you don’t need to not when he feels how you clench around him at the statement.

“Go on then sweetheart, cum for me and I’ll give you what you want. I’ll breed your little cunt.” He promises, kissing your cheek and sending you rushing over the edge, with him right behind. 

Once you’re both through it he carefully pulls out and turns you over onto your back. Only then he’s pushing your hips up and nudging a pillow beneath them.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to waste it after wanting it so badly.” He teases before shrugging, “Though I guess I could always just give you more.”

The way you clench around nothing, spilling more of his cum makes him growl. You notice then that he’s still hard and look up at him.

“Bet that’s what  you’re thinking about right now, huh desperate pup.” You tease and in a second he’s over you again.

“You’re not wrong... though there is something I want more.” He smirks before dropping between your legs, hands firmly spreading your thighs.

“This time I’m going to make you cum on my tongue before I fuck you full.”

If you enjoy my work please keep in mind how much time and effort goes into it and show support through comments and reblogs, or consider buying me a kofi. (Caffeine fuels the chaotic gremlin in me who creates content.)

#huihuiheart #kinktober 2023 #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez wooyoung smut #ateez wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader

[sushiwriterhere]

two: required texts

flight path

summary: "It takes your remaining sober thoughts to refocus on beer pong instead of how hard it hits you that you want Jake."  rating: mature (eventually explicit, 18+ mdni) pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader word count: ~6.9k lol warnings: angst, masturbation ment, enemies to lovers!, college au!, eventual smut, hangman being hangman, no use of y/n.  notes: dedicated to @waklman bc u entertain my insane dms <3 pls pls pls let me know what you think everyone!! masterlist here this fic is being posted from my queue while I have little access to the internet. any tag list requests/fic replies will be slow; thanks!

"Jake said you were coming to our party this Friday?" Bradley's smile is so genuine, so unlike everything about Jake, "Never thought you'd agree but it'll be good to see you."

Sometimes you regret making things so sour with Jake, because Bradley’s actually really sweet. He’s been letting you and Jake duke it out about your project at their breakfast bar counter while he cooks in the background. He’s kind of always on FaceTime with someone, usually a girl, and he even makes a mean chocolate chip cookie. Something about the flakey sea salt just does it.

Bradley is the kind of guy you think you might settle down with one day. Bradley doesn’t throw his hands up in the air at you in frustration when you argue about what exactly qualifies as sustainability, and he certainly does not make deals with you to try and get you to come to frat parties.

That being said, he looks so happy to hear that you might be joining them that you really don’t have the heart to knock him down. 

“Oh, yeah, Jake–” You consider your words carefully. 

Jake hadn’t explicitly said that the deal was to be kept hush-hush, but you didn’t really know how much you wanted people knowing that you were willing to trade your introvert lifestyle just to ensure a good grade. Plus, it felt just a smidge pathetic that that was what you’d caved to. 

“Jake told me he talked you into it in exchange for going with your lead on your project, but it doesn’t seem to really be working.” Bradley’s laugh fills the hallways of the lab and you feel yourself tense up. 

God, you really did get the short end of the stick if it was that obvious that Jake wasn’t holding up his end of the bargain at all. 

“Yeah... well...” You trail off, twisting your hands in front of you until someone calls you name at the end of the hallway.

Bradley looks at you, his gaze a little too knowing, before you both wave goodbye and you take off toward the sound of your supervisor’s voice. 

Running into Bradley is one thing, he’s nice and doesn’t make you want to poke your eyeballs out, getting to the end of the hallway to see Jake standing in front of your professor with an easy-going smile on his face is another. Fantastic.

“Mr. Seresin here was just telling me that the two of you have been hard at work,” Jake bounces his shoulders just a little behind your professor’s back, as if rubbing it in how much he’d obviously been talking himself up in the few seconds before, “I have high expectations for the two of you.”

You resist the urge to call him a dumbass in front of the man who’s probably going to single handedly get you into MIT, and school your features into something a little more school-appropriate. You are not going to let him screw this, especially this, up for you. 

“Of course, Professor Simmons, we’re certainly putting our all into it.” Jake mock gags behind the professor’s back for a split second before he turns around, and then he’s the picture of academic excellence.

Simmons wanders off in the way he usually does, leaving just you and Jake standing in the hallway. Distantly, you know that you’re technically on the clock, but you’re well-liked enough that you can get away with a little time theft. No one’s had any complaints on time sheet day so far.

Jake rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, smile ever present. For a moment, he looks a bit unsure of himself, but the expression is gone even quicker than it came.

“What are you doing in the labs, Jake. Don’t you have some other poor girl to harass?” You cross your arms and stare expectantly at him– you’d rather spend your stolen time reading the New Yorker on your phone and not dealing with Jake Seresin.

“Was just dropping by to chat with Simmons, you know how it is. Office hours, etcetera, etcetera.” He’s at ease once again, his gaze trained fully on you.

“Why did you say etc like that?”

“Did you just say ‘e-t-c’?”

For a moment there’s complete and entire silence, the type that happens right before exams are handed out. Then, Jake starts howling with laughter, completely doubled over. You watch in horror, listening to his voice echo around the sterile hallways and probably right into every professor’s office. 

Once he’s done completely humiliating you, he stands up and wipes at his eyes, “Sorry, you just—you were lecturing me the other day about ‘histrionics’ and you’ve never heard etcetera said aloud have you?”

You bristle, teeth gritted, “I’ll have you know, you can say it either way.” He doesn’t need to know, but you haven’t heard it aloud.

“Oh, I was also looking for you.” His abrupt change of subject makes you nervous. 

You and Jake have admittedly been spending a lot of time together. After your first few hours at the library, Jake’s been making a habit of being around you. Like, a lot.

First, he’s always sitting next to you in your shared classes. You’re only taking four, and sharing three of those is just a lot of Jake-time. He mostly leaves you alone, thankfully, but he’s taken to poking you to get your attention for his random thoughts, turning his computer your direction to show you a funny meme someone sent him, and occasionally reaching over to doodle on your notes. He also always uses your shared seat rest.

You don’t know why you let him do it. But, if you were brutally honest, it’s kind of nice having him around. Despite all your petty disagreements, Jake’s a bright personality, and it makes your stomach flip in a funny way when he spots you across the quad and waves wildly to get your attention, or when he buys you lunch before your library sessions. You do keep bickering about nearly everything though.

That’s the second thing. Now, after your two classes together on Mondays and Wednesdays, the two of you will go to the library and study til the wee hours of the morning. On more than one occasion, he’s bought you coffee to sustain your hours of staring at complex equations and trying to apply to grad schools. 

(“What grad school are you applying to now?” 

“Nunya.”

“Okay, unless the top fifteen rankings have been updated since the last time I checked there is no grad school that—“

“Nunya business.”

“Very funny. Real mature. You’re really childish y’know that.”

“I’m childish? Remind me which one of us spent eighty five dollars at a candy store last week after taking forty five minutes to decide.”

“There’s a lot of options!”)

You two don’t make a lot of conversation but it’s getting easier to talk to him like he’s a normal person, like he’s anyone else. You still keep your cards close to your chest, though, unready to let him in fully and still not entirely trusting him. 

Once, you’d shared a bit about how much pressure you felt to get into a top graduate program, to ensure that your parents were taken care of as an only child. Jake had been surprisingly empathetic, and had shared some about his home life, which you suspected wasn’t as idyllic as he made it seem, but it had made you smile. 

“Youngest, with four sisters, I was a little doll,” He’d laughed. He never talked about his parents, really.

It had been an odd moment of peace between the two of you until he had teased you for the way you read out an equation as you were checking your work, and then it was back to trading barbs.

The third thing is that he hadn’t invited you to a party til this week, about four into the semester. Before he had, it hung over your head like an anvil–ominous, always present, and not exactly forthcoming on when it was planning on crushing you like a bug. 

He’d been too nice about it, assuring you that whatever you wore would be fine (“Just think... slutty?” “Don’t be sexist, Jake.” “What! That’s what the sorority girls say.” “Well, are you a sorority girl?” “I can be if you want me to be, sweets.” “You have issues.”). He’d also said he’d keep an eye out on you but that his frat brothers were all great people, and besides, Bradley would be around. You don’t really want to share how it makes you feel that Bradley had asked you if you really were attending.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re coming on Friday.” His smile softens into something more genuine than his usual wild grin. “Was worried I might’ve scared you off.”

You huff, “I’m not scared.”

The way he looks at you in that moment makes you want to shove him so he’ll stop staring at you, a combination of pity and something else you’re afraid to identify, “No, not at all.”

Then, his demeanor changes back into something that’s a bit more familiar to you as he tucks his hands into his pockets and turns to leave, “Besides, if you don’t come, we’re doing our entiiiire project on Naval mechanics. Bye!”

He’s gone before you can yell at him.

-

This isn’t who you are–outfits strewn all over the floor of your room, music blaring from your phone where it’s charging in the corner, a layer of nervous sweat starting to coat your forehead and palms. Nothing fits right or in a way that doesn’t make you want to lose your mind. 

For a moment, you wish that you were a sorority girl, surrounded by women who know all the cultural rules of what you’re about to walk into. It’s not in a “I’m not like other girls” way, but more in a “my parties consist of wine and boardgames”. You are excited, but you also just feel stupid. 

You jump about half a foot in the air when your music cuts off all of a sudden and is replaced by the someone singing “save a horse, ride a cowboy” at far too many decibels. Scrambling, you grab your phone from the far side of your bed and see that it’s Jake trying to FaceTime.

“When did you change your ringtone?” Is the first thing you say when you pick up, endlessly irritated. “Your voice is terrible, by the way.”

Jake just laughs, “Oh, it absolutely is not. And you left your phone unlocked when you went to the bathroom two weeks ago, it was the only logical course of action. How have you not noticed til now?”

“I keep my phone on silent like a normal person.” You try to angle the camera so he can’t see the fact that you’re only in a sports bra and that you are absolutely not dressed despite the fact that you need to leave relatively soon.

“Again with this normal person thing, sweets,” He looks like he’s walking through the frat house as you hear people in the background, and you have half a mind to ask if Bradley’s around but decide against it. Something tells you Jake would be, well, weird about it. “You have got to be the least normal person I know, and that’s saying something.”

The absolutely unimpressed look on your face makes him laugh, and you almost hang up until you remember that he could potentially be helpful with your predicament. He wasn’t helpful last time but maybe this time he will be. He at least knows more about what girls are supposed to wear to this stuff.

“Jake...” You start, unsure of how to even ask. 

‘Oh hey Jake, how am I supposed to dress slutty for the frat party you cajoled me into going to because this is really out of my comfort zone and I’m this close to just telling you we can do your stupid Naval aircraft idea so that I don’t have to deal with this’ is a decidedly bad start.

“Sweets...” He croons back at you over the phone as he sets you down on a bathroom counter. 

It’s then that you realize that he’s been shirtless this entire time, and is still very much shirtless. Look, you may have a deep dislike for Jake Seresin as a person, but you’re not blind. You have eyes. And your eyes are telling you that Jake is absolutely so fucking fine that you have sort of forgotten your question. 

He’s absentmindedly applying shaving cream to his face and bustling around the bathroom while opening drawers and humming to himself. You remain silent. 

You just sort of stare at him for a few seconds before he raises an eyebrow at you. It’s then that you realize you’re holding your phone at an atrocious angle and you’re supposed to be asking him how to dress for this and showing him the insides of your nostrils is definitely not going to be doing you any favors.

“Sweets, did you have something you were going to say or are you just going to spend the next thirty minutes checking me out?” Jake says it so nonchalantly it almost makes you hang up, but you’re caught off guard by how something as simple as watching him shave on FaceTime can feel so endearing and domestic.

“Very funny. I was going to tell you you have something sticking out of your nose but I guess I won’t now.” You huff, hoping it’ll distract him from the last two minutes of silence.

At the very least, it works. Jake frantically tries to figure out what’s danging from his nose while you try and regroup. 

“I need your help picking an outfit.” It’s dramatic, but it feels like a weight off your chest to say it, “I just– Well, it’s just that nothing looks good and I hate this.”

Jake sets his razor down and leans close to his phone so you can see only his face and nothing else, “Lemme see what’cha got, sweets.”

The next twenty minutes are, somehow, not entirely excruciatingly painful. Jake immediately vetoes every single one of your business casual outfits (“You are not wearing slacks to a frat party, sweets, be serious.”) but he’s nice about it. When you dive deep into your closet to pull out a box of items you haven’t thought about since you bought them freshman year, you really start to reconsider how much you don’t want to work on Naval mechanics. 

“Okay, you can’t be mean, I bought these freshman year in a moment of weakness.” You can feel how hot your face is and you barely manage to get through the sentence without stammering or hanging up on him.

You lay out the tops on your bedding–Jake had already approved of a pair of jeans you hardly ever wore. These pieces are much more party-oriented than anything else you regularly wear, and you remember how for a weekend freshman year you’d felt so alienated, so weird, that you’d spent almost three-hundred dollars on going out tops. You’d returned most of them but the ones in front of you you’d kept in secret hope maybe you’d get to wear them. 

“You are a liar.” Jake’s voice comes softly from your phone and you frown.

“I literally just asked you to not be mean. You can’t even not be mean when—” 

“Sweets, any guy here would pass away at the sight of you in any of these,” He says and you make sure the camera isn’t on you so you can contort your face into a silent scream, “Talkin’ about, ‘I have nothing to wear’.”

“Drama queen.” It’s all you can say, but the thought of him passing away at the sight of you? That might be more appealing than you’d like to admit.

-

God, it’s so fucking loud in here. You managed to arrive fashionably late, as Jake advised. Now, you’re just sort of standing by the doorway, unsure of where to go or who to talk to. 

Then, all of a sudden, Jake appears next to you, all bright eyes and white teeth as he bobs along to the music. He grabs your arm and pulls you into an excessively tight hug, one that smooshes your face into his chest and traps your arms at your sides. You try not to breathe in too hard, but you can’t really avoid smelling him (like a fucking weirdo). You’re only slightly disappointed to note that Jake smells really good. 

“Sweets! I thought you’d bailed!” He exclaims, letting you go only slightly so he can take a look at your face. “When did you get here?”

“Um, like ten minutes ago?” You try and push out of his arms but he’s got a strong grip on you–glancing to the side you see that he’s grasped his elbows so you’re completely stuck.

“Only one hour and fifty minutes left to go!”

And with that, you’re being hauled off by one arm through the frat house. You stumble on your feet but manage to catch yourself on Jake when you trip over a beer can someone just threw on the ground. He turns around with a glint in his eye.

“Sweets, if you wanted to cuddle, you should’ve just said so!” His tone is gleeful, but he steadies you gently anyway.

“Just get me a drink, Jake.” 

He doesn’t let you go but this time his grip is gentler and he walks at a human pace instead of trying to make record time. After turning a few corners, you finally arrive in the kitchen.

You have to admit, you’re sort of jealous. Your apartment isn’t tiny by any means, but you’d love to have a kitchen this sprawling, with its huge windows, what looks like a state of the art fridge, and granite countertops the sheer square footage of which could make you drool. You feel a rush of disappointment at how dirty it is in here, but you squash it remembering that this is a frat house. Clean is nowhere near part of these men’s vocabulary. 

Jake makes you a drink that seems to be some odd combination of liquors and juices (he avoids the jungle juice thankfully, almost turning green when you ask him if you should try some–“Not unless you want to spend all of tomorrow throwing up.”). When he hands it to you, he looks at you expectantly, like a child who just gave their parent a crayon drawing.

“Well? What do you think?” You grimace on instinct when the liquid hits your tongue, but you realize it’s actually not that bad. 

You tell him as much. Maybe you’re already starting to get drunk because it’s the only explanation for the way you think the look on his face could persuade you to drink three hundred cups of this if it means having him smile at you like that again. You keep drinking to avoid spilling your guts, figuratively.

Jake makes himself a cup while yammering on about planning the party, how he took shots with his frat brothers before you got here, and how he has a brunch planned Sunday with a few of his frat brothers. It’s all a bit too close, too intimate to be honest. Even with everyone around you, even with the way he almost has to yell so you can hear, it feels like it’s just the two of you. It makes you want to flee, but you force yourself to stay put in an effort to at least try.

And it’s not actually terrible. You keep sipping on the drink Jake made you, and try to engage with him. 

He’s in the middle of telling you a story about him and Bradley from freshman year when one of his frat brothers walks up to the two of you with a wicked grin on his face. 

“Now who is this, Jake?” He’s terribly handsome, but something about the way he’s looking at you sets you on edge. 

“Javy, meet sweets.” Jake gestures at you with his perfectly iconic red solo cup.

You roll your eyes at the introduction, “That’s not my name.”

But Javy doesn’t let you correct the record, instead his entire face lights up. He looks like a kid on Christmas as he wraps an arm around Jake’s shoulders and looks between the two of you, a gleeful expression spreading over his face. 

“You are famous in this frat, I hope you know that.”

You prepare yourself for a snide remark about your attitude in class, about your reputation, but instead Javy leans in close, so close that you can see how perfect his skin is (what the hell?), and he whispers conspiratorially, “Jake here never shuts up about you.”

The whisper clearly isn’t meant to keep much secret and Jake obvious hears him because he shoves Javy off him and starts waving his hands at him to shoo him off. When he turns back around, he’s blushing and you don’t think it’s from the alcohol or the heat. 

“Talking shit?” You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow expectantly, not knowing what you’d do with any other explanations. 

“Something like that. Want more to drink?” 

He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, and he clearly doesn’t want you to remember this conversation either, because his next pour is overly generous. After that, he drags you out of the kitchen to ‘socialize’. He keeps you next to him, occasionally slinging an arm around your shoulders or even just leaning on you. 

Much to your dismay, Jake doesn’t let you wallflower, to disappear as you stand next to him–suddenly you’re being introduced to everyone in the frat. You grouse about being forced to remember a thousand different white men’s names and Jake’s laugh rises even above the din of the music and the chatter. You’re loath to admit it aloud, but it’s sort of nice, being included, being in on jokes and spoken to like you might have something funny or interesting to say.

Part of you wants to bring up what Javy said, because almost every guy that Jake introduces as being part of his frat smiles in the exact same way that Javy had. Like a cat who got the cream. But the alcohol is making your tongue heavy and you worry what might be said if you start down that path.

Then, you hear your name distantly, and you whip around to see Bradley making his way through the crowd waving wildly. Nearly missing elbowing some poor sorority girl in the head, he pushes past people. His face is flushed from drinking and the heat, and he’s got his phone pressed to his ear. Why he’s attempting to take a phone call in this type of environment, you’re really not sure.

When he gets to the both of you, he at least has the sense to hang up before he separates you from Jake when he sweeps you up into a bear hug that lifts your feet off the ground and crushes you to him. He seems so happy to see you, and you smile bashfully as you hug him back. 

Once your feet are back on the ground and Bradley’s released you, you notice how Jake has stiffened slightly beside you. He and Bradley engage in some long, complicated handshake that ends with jazz hands and eventually Bradley sweeps away in just the same way he came over. No words are exchanged, and Jake relaxes when Bradley’s out of sight.

“You’re being weird,” You accuse, leaning into Jake so you can get closer to his ear to be heard over the noise, “Well, you’re always weird, but you were being weird towards Bradley.”

“Was not.” Jake says haughtily, pouting lightly like a child. 

“You’re literally pouting right now.” You’re too tipsy to deal with him acting like you just took away his toy truck, and you poke his arm to emphasize your point. 

Jake immediately schools his expression before taking you by the arm and pulling you outside. His broad form clears the way for you and you do your best not to trip on any more beer cans. You two aren’t alone by any means, but here the sound has space to dissipate. There’s beer pong tables, a bonfire going (which, frankly, seems very unsafe), and people milling about. 

“Do you like Bradley?” The two of you are now standing off to the side of the sprawling deck behind the frat house, illuminated by a series of string lights that only seem slightly out of place for a frat house and Jake’s staring at you intently.

You shrug, “I mean, what’s not to like? It’s Bradley, I think we’re friends.” 

This is so awkward and you hate it with every fiber of your being.

He wrings his hands just a bit, and it strikes you that there’s a chance that he’s actually upset. It’s not the kind of annoyed that he always seems to take on when you two are going at it, it’s more genuine, like whatever he’s imagining might be enough to get him really worked up. He opens his mouth but then shuts it.

“Jake. What is wrong with me liking Bradley.” This is so ridiculous–standing in the backyard and trying to get Jake to talk about whatever issues he has or doesn’t with Bradley is probably almost as close to the opposite of socializing as just staying home would have been.

“You don’t like like him, though, right?” 

You roll your eyes and snap at him, “Jake, what is this, middle school?” He’s not calling you sweets, and when you notice, it bothers you just a tad more than you’d like to admit, “No, I like Bradley because he doesn’t yell at me when I correct his projections and he makes a mean chocolate chip cookie. He’s a friend.”

Everything about his demeanor changes in the oddest way when you say that, he peps up and it’s like the Jake that was pouty (jealous?) was never there, and he takes you by the hand, “Great! That’s solved then, let’s go play beer pong.”

You try to ignore the way you get emotional whiplash as he drags you over to the people standing around a folding table.

But you can’t help it. As Jake tries to teach you how to play beer pong you end up ruminating on whatever the hell that just was. Why would it bother Jake if you did “like like” Bradley? The two of you, you and Jake, could barely be classified as friends. Besides, as frat brothers, there’s no way both Jake and Bradley haven’t gotten around or even been with the same girl. No shame for anyone involved, but what’s his fucking deal? (And, Bradley’s a cutie, so what?) 

Eventually, you give up trying to figure out what Jake’s issue is as the two of you start losing at beer pong, and badly, given just how inebriated you are. Jake keeps trying to shout instructions every time you go to throw the ping pong ball and it keeps messing you up, so eventually you shove at him. He barely moves as he starts laughing at your anger.

“Jake! Stop messing me up!” You can feel how bad your coordination is from the alcohol as you stumble a bit as you lean your weight into him. “You’re making us lose!”

He can barely breathe through how hard he’s laughing at how far off your last shot had been, but he still steadies the both of you and wraps his arms around you, “Sweets you’re just too easy to mess up, oh my god. Are you even looking at the cups?”

You just hit his chest once as you start taking in the way that you’re pressed up against each other. He doesn’t let go of you. Instead, he just sort of lets you step back enough to have full control of your arms and continues standing at your side with his arms around your waist. Then, he starts leaning down to breathe instructions in your ear.

Normally you would find it in yourself complain about how gross having his breath in your ear is, but in that moment, already past tipsy and just enjoying the warmth of his body and skin against yours, all you can do is shiver. You fuck up your next shot worse than the last one. You hope it’s dark enough to cover how flustered you are as the patio lights glimmer weakly in the distance.

It takes your remaining sober thoughts to refocus on beer pong instead of how hard it hits you that you want Jake. 

It’s honestly the most fun you’ve had in a long, long, time and you lose yourself in it. Jake at your side, his arms wrapped around you, laughing loudly as you lose to team after team. He barely removes himself to make his shots. When he laughs it shakes your whole body. Every time he takes a step, he knocks your legs together so you move with him. 

You’ve continued drinking so you’re only getting progressively drunker and it only makes you focus on him more. You lose track of time completely and wholly.

Every time you turn to look at him or talk to him, Jake’s already looking at you. He keeps looking at your lips. In that moment, your rivalry, the project, and really, the entire world falls away. You have nothing to think about but how warm he is, how good he smells, and how you want to keep this moment in a jar so you can come back to it later. 

You think he might kiss you.

The moment breaks when you feel Jake’s phone start buzzing against your leg and he finally lets you go. In an instant, he takes a step back from you and his arms are gone. You didn’t realize just how much his body heat was keeping you warm in the cool evening air til he removes himself from you completely. You miss it immediately.

He steps off to the side, face completely impassive but frozen in a smile as he reads a text, and he starts typing furiously. The smile slides off your face as you think of all the girls in his phone who are probably waiting for his drunk “you up?” texts and you take a step back, putting more space between the two of you. Someone more important than you must want his attention.

“I, uh, I’ve got to go, sorry, sweets.” Jake says, but you don’t feel the apology as much as you do the rejection. It stings in the way a harsh winter wind burns at your cheeks, pricking your skin and raising the blood to your face.

Somewhere in your mind, you remember considering hooking up with someone tonight. That’s what people do, right? Get drunk, sleep with a stranger, then stumble home in last night’s outfit in the morning. And maybe somewhere along the way, maybe between drinks three and four, you’d thought about what it might be like to kiss Jake. At some point when you’d watched his eyes linger on your lips, you thought that was it.

You take a few steps back, trying to feel sober again, but swaying slightly without Jake to hold you, “Right.”

His face falls as he takes a step toward you, but the magic of the night is gone. There isn’t anyone standing on the opposite of the folding table anymore. The backyard is somehow too quiet despite the loudness coming from the house. Jake doesn’t reach for you when he sees the expression on your face. 

“I’ll uh, venmo you for the Uber.” His face betrays nothing but the cool indifference you remember from freshman year–are you really back to where you started after everything tonight?

Him offering to pay for you only makes you remember that you hate him–flirting with you all night then ditching you to go hook up with someone he actually likes. Classic Jake Seresin, everybody. 

-

You don’t care that he slept with someone else after how close the two of you were. You are deciding not to care. It does not bother you because you and Jake aren’t even friends, you are sworn enemies and the only reason you’re even going to these parties is so that you can ensure the project isn’t a flaming mess. 

You’re repeating these mantras to yourself from the moment you wake up, while you go to classes, while you avoid making eye contact with or speaking to Jake for fear he’ll know. You say it to yourself as you sit silently across from him in the library, headphones firmly over your ears so you don’t have to hear him ask if you want coffee. 

He brings you one anyway.

It’s clear that you are utterly failing to convince yourself, because all you can think about is how close he was, how the heat radiated off his body, how he smelled, and how his eyes flitted down to your lips ever so often. You feel like you want to crawl out of your own skin with the realization that you want Jake to want you. You’ve sort of always wanted his attention, it’s just that up until now it’s almost entirely been in the form of your little rivalry.

You find yourself scoffing as a thought comes to the forefront of your mind, It’s like in those romance novels. That shit does not happen to people like you.

The shame and desire washing through you reaches its peak when you find yourself biting into your fist with your hand between your legs a week after the party. All you can think about is how he’d smelled, how close he’d been to you, and the way his hands felt around your waist. You finish with a whine tearing itself from your chest and a deep sort of mortification coursing through your veins.

You can’t avoid him forever though, the work must go on. 

The thought of attraction goes as quickly as it comes when you find yourself sitting across from him at his and Bradley’s kitchen table again, the two of you bickering about a piece of analysis.

“Why do you refuse to listen to me, even the slightest bit, sweets? I’m literally second in our class, I can’t be an absolute idiot.” Jake looks at the ceiling as if some supernatural being will give him the strength to deal with you, and sighs heavily.

You clench your fists, “I’m not refusing to listen to you, Jake, I’m just telling you that you’re wrong.” You don’t remind him you’re first in the class.

Bradley walks in the kitchen, phone held casually in front of his face, a bag of chips grasped in his other hand. He stops to observe the two of you still arguing, now going on about a quiz question you two had disagreed on first semester sophomore year. He could be surprised that you and Jake have found something else to argue about, but then again Jake told him the two of you spent almost three straight hours arguing your first time together at the library. He’s also been witness to countless pointless fights about god knows what since the beginning of the semester.

“Can you two just fuck already, good god.” 

The room goes so quiet the only thing you can hear in your ears is your own heartbeat. Jake looks similarly mortified, cheeks turning red as he tucks his head to the side in clear embarrassment. The tips of his ears are bright red. 

Bradley, unaware of the absolute nuclear bomb that he just dropped, tucks his chips into the pantry, and leaves as the FaceTime call sound starts trilling from his phone. 

Neither you or Jake move. All you can think about is how you felt in that moment last Friday, Jake pressed up against you, his breath heavy in your ear, and his body solid and warm against you. You think about the way want had coursed through your veins when you’d been alone. But he doesn’t want you. His current reaction is evidence enough.

Jake’s the one to break the silence by muttering something under his breath. 

“What?” 

“I said, he’s one to talk.” He clears his throat and avoids eye contact.

You can’t take this, so you try to laugh a bit, but it sounds fake and tinny in your ears, “And I don’t know what he’s talking about. In case everyone’s lost their minds and forgotten, I do not like you, Jake Seresin.”

He laughs lightly in response and says, “People don’t use contractions when they’re lying.”

And you don’t really know what to say to that. Because you don’t really know if there is anything to say. So you decide not to say anything to that, at all.

“You still owe me twenty five dollars for the Uber.”

“Twenty five—“ Jake sputters, “Twenty five American dollars? Where the hell did you have him take you? Downtown and back!? You live twelve minutes from the house!”

“I tipped well.”

Jake mutters something about tipping culture being out of control but you still feel the way your phone buzzes so hard it rattles some pens strewn across the table.

-

When the second invite comes, you decide preemptively that you’re not going to drink. Your deal with Jake was about attending and staying for two hours, it said absolutely nothing about drinking or generally partaking in party activities. You don’t want a repeat of last time–you want the arousal that spikes your bloodstream every time you see his face to disappear as quickly as it came.

You’re avoiding Jake in the frat house by ducking into doorways and keeping an eye out for a blonde head of hair the best you can. At one point, Bradley spots you and sends a confused look your way, clearly scanning for Jake. He doesn’t do anything about it, you guess, because Jake doesn’t come running within the next ten minutes. 

Keeping yourself pressed to the wall where the music isn’t so loud but you also can’t hear the way people are very obviously doing drugs in the bathroom, you count down the minutes til you can leave. 

About five minutes before, you decide to sneak a peek in the kitchen one last time. Maybe you can rob these assholes of some Oreos or something as divine punishment–revenge of the nerds, or whatever.

When you get to the kitchen, you realize you’ve found Jake. His back is to you, and he seems to be holding court. Surrounding him is a group of frat brothers most of whom you don’t remember, with the exception of Javy, who’s leaning his elbows on the countertop and listening about as intently as a drunk person can. 

“She’s fucking stuck up man, I don’t know how you do it. I don’t think being that obnoxious is a requirement to be top of the class.” One of the frat brothers that usually surrounds Jake scoffs. 

You feel all the blood drain from your face and you suddenly feel like being sick. Backing away from the doorway to the kitchen you almost trip over your feet at the speed you’re trying to get away from the conversation, from Jake, from the frat house. 

There it is–there’s your out. Your ick, if you will. Jake, standing in his perfect kitchen, surrounded by a bunch of barely matured fraternity bros, talking shit about you. It’s not that the feelings of hatred weren’t technically mutual, but the extent to which you complain about Jake is usually limited to surface level shit. 

If you had stuck around for just a moment longer, you would’ve heard the way that he defended you over a chorus of agreement from around him, “C’mon man, it’s not like that. Don’t say shit like that about her. She’s under a lot of pressure and you’re kind of a dick in class anyway.”

But you don’t stick around. Instead, you push your way through the mass of bodies, accidentally stumble through a smoke circle, and you still seem so far away from the exit. You pass by Bradley again, and this time he’s with the girl that he insists is just a friend, but they seem too cozy for that in the moment. You don’t stop to say hi. 

When you finally get outside, your chest is heaving and you think you might be sick, alcohol aside. 

This is exactly why you focus on academics. They gave back as good as they got, never betrayed you, never let their friends talk shit about you. Academics never called you “stuck up”, stopping short of biting out the insult “bitch”. God you’re so stupid. 

You should’ve never let him get close, you should’ve stuck to the project and just finished it without ever learning more about Jake beyond the bare minimum. No evenings spent crowded around a countertop covered in textbooks and notes, Bradley humming in the background as he cooked something delicious. No letting Jake buy you coffee or cafeteria food. 

This is exactly what you deserve for letting him in.

----------

tagging: @roosterbruiser @joaquinwhorres @sometimesanalice @seresinsweetie @bobfloyds @theharddeck @jupitercomet @dempy @gigisimsonmars @sunsetsimpsblog @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @kajjaka @clancycucumber230 @desert-fern @bibitches-r-us @cruelmissdior @chaoticassidy @blue-aconite

#top gun: maverick #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake 'hangman' seresin #top gun: maverick fanfic #top gun: maverick fanfiction #top gun: maverick fic #hangman x you #hangman x reader #no use of y/n #flight path universe

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

My Little Shadow: Part eight (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: none I think

Part seven Part nine

Tag list: @mis-lil-red @bubybubsters

After being questioned about her experiences, Y/N is given a choice, does she want to work with the nightcourt, or concentrate on her own life?

I sat in the large room of the townhouse, a new cup of tea in my hands as I surveyed all the different people in the room.

There were the people I knew.  Morrigan, Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel.

But there were also three females I didn’t recognise.  Two of them held a resemblance to the highlady, one a timid little thing, while the other had eyes sharper than knives.

The female that really caught my eye though, was the one with short black hair in a stylish bob, and silver eyes.  I could feel she was different, but I couldn’t place my finger on why.

It might have helped if she had even looked at me.

“Everyone.”  Rhysand spoke, and everyone looked at him except the dark haired female.  “This is Y/N.  She’s a shadowsinger, and she’s been helping Azriel look into some of the problems in Hewn City.”

The dark haired female perks up at this, discarding her book to look at me.  “Another shadowsinger, hmm?”  She asks, and I recognise the look she’s giving me as her eyes trace me up and down.

She was looking at me like I was prey.

I shot her back a toothy grin before forcing my features to settle on mildly bored as the highlord continued on.

“Yes.  And she made a deal with Azriel, who got my help in fulfilling his end without telling me what it was for.”  He shot another glare at Azriel, who just shrugged.

“So, what exactly did you learn about this cult that’s forming in Hewn City Y/N?”  He asked, and I stiffened up as I felt everyone’s eyes shift to me.

My shadows curl around my hands comfortingly, giving me just enough confidence to start speaking.

I told them about everyone who had been in the meeting, including my father, I told them about how they didn’t plan to stop, I told them every detail my shadows had relaid to me.

The highlord nodded, his posture stiff as he took in all I had said.  Everyone in the room was reacting differently, but it was clear they were all upset by what they had heard.”

“So why did you try to get out of your end of the bargain?”  The highlord asked, and I sat up straighter, not caring that I was now sneering at him.

“I did no such thing!”  I said, offended at the way they all looked at me in disbelief.

I craned my neck around to get a look at Azriel, but he wasn’t there anymore.

I was alone.

“What happened then?”  The highlady cut in, her questions less accusatory than her mate’s.

I crossed my arms, uncomfortable sharing how I had been abducted and violated by maids to get me ready for a forced marriage.

I swallowed thickly.  “I-”  I struggled to speak as my shadow coiled more tightly around me.

My vision started to blur, and I found myself unable to draw a proper breath as in the background I could hear the highlord say something in an angry tone.

“She was in a wedding dress, Rhys.”  Azriel’s voice cut through my panic, and everyone else's conversations.

He was behind me again, a teapot in his hands.

The highlord's eyes went wide as he realized what had happened.

I shoot up, done with the conversation.  “If anyone needs me, I’ll be with my sister.”  I declare before storming off, not waiting for an apology.

Maybe this highlord was different, but there was one thing he still had in common with all the others.

If you weren’t important to him, he would crush you into fine powder.

I found Stella playing with Nyx.  She was a bit older than him, but neither of them minded, playing with carved wooden toys.

Stella looked up as I entered the room, her eyes glittering with joy.

At least someone was having a good time.

“Sis, this is Nyx!  Say hi Nyx!”  She said, looking at her new friend, who turned towards me, shy as he waved.

I smiled softly, giving him a little wave back.

Normally, I would join Stella in her playing, but I didn’t want to go near either of them with the anger that sat heavy in my chest.

“Rhys feels bad about what happened, you know.”  I didn't look over, I could tell it was Cassian, and I wasn’t very interested.

“If it makes it any better, Nesta tore into him after you left.”  He said, and I could hear the grin in his voice.

Despite myself, I looked over at him.  “Who’s Nesta?”  I asked, trying to sound for the most part uninterested.

He chuckled.  “Nesta’s my mate, and Feyre’s older sister.  You probably saw her in the main room, she’s the one who looks like she could rip your head off.”

I gave an involuntary huff of laughter, but then forced myself to be quiet.  We both stood there like that for a few minutes before I got up the courage to ask, “So what now?”

He looks a little confused, and I roll my eyes.  “For me.  I’m guessing the lot of you don’t want me staying here, so where are you going to dump me off at?”  I said, sounding annoyed instead of the fear I felt.

What if they decided to drop us right back off in the snow?

“Actually, we were wondering if you’d like to stay here.”  I try not to wince at the highlady’s voice.  It still comes as a shock everytime she grins softly or I see her modest attire.

I bit my lip anxiously, letting my shadows curl around me once more.

“What do you want in return?”  I ask, remembering how Azriel asked that of me back in Hewn City.

Feyre shook her head.  “No, nothing like that.  If you want to, we would appreciate your help in various matters, including the cult in Hewn City, but all of it’s your choice.”

I stand there, feeling a little shell shocked.

We could stay here.  Stella and I could have a home, one where we didn’t have to fear everything, one where we could walk outside and see the stars.

I could work with them, with my highlord and highlady.

Not looking at her so she can’t see what I’m thinking, I reason it through.

I had been hiding my abilities as a shadowsinger for so long.  I know that if I join them, I'll be working with Azriel.

He could help me figure out more about what we can do.  Maybe I could teach him how to have a shadow form, only if he teaches me how to winnow with shadows though.

And maybe…. Just maybe I could use this position to help my mother and sisters, who were still stuck in Hewn city.

I turned to my highlady, my head high.  “I would love to stay here, and I’ll help in any way I can.”

She smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back a little bit.

“Can we go get something to eat?  I’m starving.”  Cassian said impatiently, watching the two of us blocking the door.

The highlady snickered as I got out of his way, and as I looked at Feyre, wearing a ridiculous grin, I decided that these people maybe weren’t as bad as I had feared.

#reader x azriel #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acomaf #acotar #azriel acotar #acowar #y/n x shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger #shadows #y/n x azriel #azriel x reader #azriel #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acosf #acotar cassian #cassian acotar #cassian #amren acotar #amren #feysand #feyre archeron #bat bois #bat boys

[sbdskate]

Laws of Attraction (Part 2) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of)-> Friends/colleagues->Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, sexual themes, NSFW for a hot sec

Word Count: 3,698

A/N: Thank you everyone who read Part 1! As a first fic, I didn’t think this was going to get as much traction as it’s gotten and I’m happy I was able to spread some joy. Part 2 didn't come as easily to me, so again, I appreciate any and all feedback both positive and constructive. Enjoy and stay tuned for part 3 xo

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

---

After weeks of exchanges of redlines, it was clear negotiations with McLaren were going nowhere fast. You showed up for your first in person meeting with McLaren’s attorneys after Singapore, your nerves and imposter syndrome back with a vengeance. Thankfully Joe did not abandon you this time, and ensured you he would be taking the lead for the discussion. Yet you found yourself in Daniel’s dressing room before the meeting, needing a private space pull your thoughts together before the negotiation. As you always did to calm yourself, you power posed in the mirror and repeated your mantra.

“Um. Can I help you?” Daniel stood in the doorway trying to hide a small smirk. He understood this must be a ritual of yours, no different than anything he might do before a race. Yet from an outsider’s perspective, it was objectively a silly sight to behold.

Your face turns red at the realization he found you out. “Power posing… How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” He paused. “Nervous?”

You sighed. “Yeah, a bit,” you admitted. You knew you shouldn’t make the client you’re representing aware of your insecurities on their own case, yet there you were.

“You’ve been working your ass off on this, I trust you.” He was trying to be supportive, which you appreciated, but you knew the reality of the situation. You spent a lot of time around Daniel the last few weeks, giving you a glimpse into work-life at the paddock. You hoped you would be able to pick up hints of a hostile work environment to bring to the negotiation, but there was no glaring evidence of such. You simply did not have enough bargaining power against McLaren.

“Look, I need to level with you. You know I’m going to fight for you as hard as I can, and I hope I can take them for all they’re worth. But I don’t know what’s going to happen in there. We don’t have as strong of a stance as we thought and I just – I want to manage your expectations on what the outcome might be with this.”

He moved from the doorway to step closer to you. “You think I don’t know that? This whole situation… is shit. And at this point I just want the season to be over so I can take a step back, whatever that means. Yeah it would be nice to get a bit of money out of it, but it’s not even about that anymore. I just want to be heard and acknowledged. I feel like that shouldn’t be too much to ask.”

Your eyes met and you again fought off the urge to grab his hand. You pivoted, putting your emotions back in a jar. “Just remember you don’t have to sign anything today, we’ll negotiate an extension and we’ll do what we can.” He sensed your change in demeanor, whatever window you briefly opened to him was now closed. He had gotten used to this pattern over the last few weeks. You seemed to catch yourself by surprise every time you let your guard down and you quickly corrected yourself. It was infuriating, but fortunately (or unfortunately) for you, Daniel was persistent.

“Right… So, can I – uh - power pose with you a little before we go out there?” He succeeded in earning a small grin from you. You instructed him to widen his stance and put his hands on his hips.

“Do I have to say ‘I’m a boss ass bitch’ too”?

“Technically, no. Should you? Yes, because you will feel like a boss ass bitch. But you can say whatever makes you feel confident.”

The two of you stood there for a few more minutes exchanging manifestations before building the courage to return to the hallway. You found Joe waiting outside.

“Y/n, there you are. How ya feeling kid?” You forced a smile.

“Never better.” Your client may have seen you crack, but you were not going to let your boss see any sign of weakness.

Zak Brown and the McLaren legal team rounded the corner, unsurprisingly encompassed by a group of gruff middle aged men who vaguely resembled thumbs. You all dispersed into the boardroom, exchanging introductions. One of the lawyers turns to you: “Can you get us some coffee, sweetheart? We had a long flight.”

Based on your discourse over email, your expectations were low and this was something you had prepared for. You opened your mouth, about to say something you would surely get you fired, but the partner beat you to it.

“Her name is y/n and you will address her as such. She is a valuable member of our team and I will not tolerate any level of disrespect towards her or anyone else. If that’s too difficult for you, we’re happy to take this to arbitration.” The man pursed his lips together and gave the partner a curt nod, still not bothering to apologize or acknowledge you. You didn’t care, you were above concerning yourself with the opinions of small men. You mouthed thank you to your boss as you sat down.

As you expected, it was a hard negotiation and the McLaren team were a bunch of assholes. Nonetheless, you were able to get them to concede to a not-for-cause termination. You knew it was aggressive to try to get them to agree to a full year severance for 2023, but ultimately were able to get them up to six months which you were satisfied with. Once the meeting was over, the three of you debriefed privately over drinks at the hotel bar.  

“Can you believe he called our proposed language cute? Actually, scratch that. I can believe it, but it’s still infuriating.” You were careful to not over-vent around the partner or client, but you had to get some of your frustrations off your chest.

“You handled it like a champ. People don’t like awkward silences, just wait for them to dig themselves in a hole.” It was a relief to receive validation from your boss. You smiled thinking back to the moment. You had simply asked the lawyer to explain what he meant by the statement and sure enough he turned into a stammering mess and fell into the trap of negotiating against himself. You took a well earned sip of scotch.  

“I don’t think we’re going to get many changes beyond what we achieved today, but I think we’re in decent shape. Obviously Daniel you don’t have to sign anything you’re not comfortable with,” Joe looked to him for confirmation.

“No, I’m really happy with where we landed. I’ll sleep on it just in case but I think I’m ready to sign. And I just want to thank you both for all your help.” You nearly fell out of your chair though when he turned to Joe and said “I hope you know how lucky you are to have y/n on your team, I don’t think I could have gotten through this without her.”

You were thankful for the dim light of the bar that disguised your growing blush. It shouldn’t have given you any sort of rise, it was an innocent compliment and positive client feedback was gold when it came time for annual reviews and bonuses. Yet you bit your bottom lip to curb your smile before taking another long sip of your drink.

Joe smiled, not thinking about anything other than all the hours billed on the case. “I think we can cheers to that.”

Your eyes met as you clinked glasses, this time you did not avert your gaze. You relished the burn in your throat from the alcohol snapping you out of your trance.

“Now, let’s find you a home for 2023.”

-

After a long day, you were so tired you didn’t even bother washing your face. You put your pj’s on and climbed into bed, instantly falling into a deep slumber. Your mind wandered back to the boardroom, except instead of other lawyers and red-faced execs, it was just you and Daniel. He walks you backwards until you bump against the boardroom table, finally your lips clash in a feverish kiss. Wandering hands starting at your waist move lower, as your hands move their way from his strong chest to the nape of his neck playing with his soft curls. When he gets to your ass he lifts you onto the table, and you take the opportunity to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding against each other. Neither of you bother undressing, only moving articles of clothing aside barely enough for him to enter you. It’s desperate and messy. Your skirt bunched up at your waist, panties slid to the side, and his pants pooled by his ankles. He nuzzles his face into your neck as he picks up the pace, kissing, sucking, and licking. You throw your head back as you let out a succession of moans, you’re close to reaching your high and –

Your eyes flash open when your alarm goes off. Panting, you lay there a moment after turning off your alarm, finally rolling over to scream into your pillow. You chalk it up to the fact that you’ve basically only been hanging out with Daniel for weeks and 90% of your work has revolved around him, exacerbated by scotch and jetlag from the night before. Still, you feel embarrassed – both at the shame of your sordid thoughts about a client and the disappointment at the lack of friction in real life. You squeeze your thighs together, wanting desperately to continue the fantasy. Instead you settle for a short HIIT workout in a pathetic attempt to relieve the tension and take your mind off of your subconscious creation. It doesn’t work.

You make your way to the paddock, kicking yourself for agreeing to accompany Daniel for press day. Daniel and Lando spot you, both of them smiling and waving you over. Nope, nope, nope, nope. You make a ninety degree turn and keep your head down, not exactly sure where you’re going but you’re positive at this point you can never look him in the eyes ever again.

“What’s gotten into her?” Lando asks.

Daniel frowned. “I have no idea, I’ll go check.”

You found yourself in the kitchen, thankful that it was empty. Pacing the room, you took a moment to regain your composure. This was ridiculous, it’s not like anything remotely close to that actually happened in real life, it only existed in your imagination. But my, what a curious imagination you had. You were chugging a glass of water when you heard footsteps behind you.

“y/n?”  Shit.

“Good morning, Daniel.”

“Are you ok? You look a bit flushed.” Shit, shit, shit. You grit your teeth.

“I’m fine, just a little under the weather is all.” He puts the back of his hand on your forehead, your face turning beet red at the contact.

“You do feel a little warm. I know yesterday was a lot, why don’t you take a day off?”

You feigned distress at the idea, but were relieved at the suggestion. “Oh no, I couldn’t leave you like this.” You added a fake cough for good measure.

“I can handle myself. Go home and rest -”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“- so you can be here for qualifyings and race day!”

You wanted to smack your head against the wall. Obviously, you couldn’t hide from him forever. And it would make things weirder if you avoided him for too long. At the end of the day, he was still your client until he got signed with another team and until then there was no escape. You gave a weak smile.

“I’ll do my best.”

-

You made it for Saturday’s qualifying as promised. You still brought your work bag to keep yourself distracted and occupied.  You settled in a corner of the garage so that you were out of the way. The organized chaos of the mechanics, engineers, and slew of other personnel provided nice background noise to help you focus. Everything was fine, until you spotted Daniel out of the corner of your eye. He was helping a mechanic move something heavy, stripped down to his fireproofs and race suit half on. The ripple of his back and arm muscles shown through the fabric. His sleeves were rolled, exposing his forearms. From the comfort of your discreet corner you openly ogled at his form, jaw going slack. Feeling no shame, you let your imagination wander this time, counting the ways he could probably manhandle you. You felt like a dirty Victorian man trying to get a glimpse at a woman’s ankle from under her petticoats.

“You’re drooling.” Eyes wide, you slowly turned your head to find Lando giving you a sly grin. From all the time you spent following Daniel around, you accidentally found a kindred spirit in the young driver. Attorney-client privilege prevented you from speaking with him about your work, but it forced other topics of conversation out of you. You were both a little weird and awkward, but it was a recipe for an unlikely friendship with lots of laughs.

“I was working,” you mumbled, subconsciously wiping the sides of your mouth just in case he was right.

You looked at your screen – you had literally just been hitting random buttons on your keyboard for the last five minutes.

“I know you weren’t actually sick on press day.”

“Keep talking, I will literally fuck your dad and make you my step son,” you deadpanned. He found your empty threats amusing, like a teddy bear holding a knife. He could tell you kept a tough exterior for your job, but underneath the thin façade you were really just a goofball with a big heart. He had also sniffed out your now not-so-secret blossoming crush, so of course he was going to give you shit for it. The two of you continued bickering for a few minutes, unaware of the honey badger approaching you.

“Uh, am I interrupting something?”

Lando didn’t skip a beat. “Y/n was just saying how excited she is to go out with us after the race this weekend.” You tried to burn a hole through Lando’s head with your retinas.

Daniel broke into a wide grin at the news. “I thought you were doing important lawyer things?”

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises,” you said through a forced smile and gritted teeth.

“How are your karaoke skills?”

“I have the voice of a dying frog so for your sake I will not be participating, but I will happily support you two in your endeavors.” The boys chuckled and you joined in with your own forced laughter.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha– I’ll cut you” just loud enough for Lando to hear. You checked the time, desperate to find an excuse to switch focus to literally anything else. “Don’t you guys need to go - oh I don’t know - race?”

As if on cue, Michael Italiano showed up to drag Daniel away. He was all smiles as he waved to you on his way out, and instead of being normal, you threw him some finger guns. Why. When Lando knew Daniel wasn’t looking, he mockingly threw fingers guns back at you in slow mo with raised eyebrows. You weren’t sure where they came from either, but you were mortified. When they were both out of sight, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in. You needed to find a way to maintain your professionalism with your client despite your new schoolgirl crush - you couldn’t allow it to become anything more.

-

Everyone woke up on race day on edge. Lando and Daniel secured p10 and p11 respectively, which wasn’t terrible. But the rain was coming down hard, and worry set in across the paddock. As for Daniel, you could sense the weight he carried was becoming too heavy for him. Despite the fact that he and Lando performed well in Singapore the week before, the way his team treated him over the last year was taking its toll and he was still reeling from being the most recent victim of the Monza curse. Concerned for his safety, you researched every FiA rule on inclement weather as if your own work would have any impact on the race itself. It meant nothing, but it made you feel like you had some semblance of control over the situation.

The feeling quickly dissipated when the race actually started and Carlos aquaplaned in the first few laps. It was incredulous that they were allowed to drive in these conditions. You weren’t religious, but there was nothing you could do but pray and hope that everyone just finished the race in one piece.

You didn’t care what the results were, all you knew was that Daniel and Lando were in the garage unharmed after the race. Professionalism was the furthest thing from your mind. Without thinking you ran over to them, first engulfing Daniel with the biggest bearhug you could muster, wrapping your arms around him like a tree trunk.

“I was so worried,” your words came out muffled as you buried your face into his chest. It took a minute for the taller driver to register what was happening, unfamiliar with the intimacy you had bestowed upon him.

He finally returned the embrace, his chin resting on top of your head. “It’s ok. I’m ok,” he whispered.

You finally pulled away. Your eyes locked for a brief moment that felt like eternity, before you turned your attention to Lando. You squeezed him as well, “I’m just so happy you’re both safe.”

Lando on the other hand was far from sentimental, and was less enthused with the contact. He hesitantly patted your back in an effort to get away from you, “Please, we’re not dead yet.”

You pulled away finally giving them space, but your tone was serious. “You’re not, but you could have been. You guys had zero visibility out there, it’s absurd that you were forced to race in those conditions. And the whole thing with the tractor out on the track under a yellow flag?? I’m going to write a strongly worded letter and file a complaint with the FiA and if they don’t listen I will burn them to the ground -”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but you don’t actually have any standing to do that,” Daniel pointed out. He was right, you weren’t a driver and you weren’t part of a team.

“I don’t care. I’ll write under a pseudonym. Or you guys can sign it. Or all of the drivers could sign it, like a union!” Daniel let you continue your scorched earth rantings. You had been so hot and cold since the two of you met, he could never tell if you actually liked him or if you simply tolerated him. At the very least it was now clear you cared for him.

Lando finally shut you up. “That’s nice and all but can we talk about this another time? I could use a drink right now.”

You still weren’t thrilled with the idea of karaoke, but you understood the need to take the edge off after the stressful day these guys had.

-

You woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, memories of the night before flooding back. As it turns out, Lando had the alcohol tolerance of a sixteen-year-old girl. He decided Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” was his moment to shine only three drinks in. The stereotypes about lawyers were definitely true – you had been to enough open bar firm-sponsored events that you could hold your liquor and still felt sober at that point. But you were a good friend and couldn’t let him flounder up there by himself so you happily danced and provided backup vocals. After a few more sake bombs though you had caught up enough to think that the beautiful and ambitious 1991 classic, “Emotions” by Mariah Carey, was a good idea. As you previously warned, you did not hit a single note and the whistle tones were basically just you screaming which divulged into full belly laughter at your own vocal inabilities.

At the end of the night, you and Daniel had to practically carry Lando back to his hotel room. You exchanged amused looks during Lando’s slurred mumbles and drunk-girl-in-the-bathroom speech.  

“You guys are just like, mybestfriends. Y’know? Yer just really great.” he drawled. Not being sober yourself, you indulged his nonsensical musings.

“No Lando, you’re really great,” you giggled. Daniel rolled his eyes out of both annoyance and amusement. Who would’ve thunk that Daniel Ricciardo would be the most sober of the bunch and had to be the voice of reason in this situation.

“That’s nice Lando but we have to get off the elevator. Can you two please pull it together just a little bit?”

“Ok dad.” You and Lando giggled again. Trying to herd the sheep, Daniel bit back his own laughter.

After you tucked Lando in, Daniel walked you back to your room and it was your turn for your drunken ramblings.

“Do you think Christian Horner and Ginger Spice make love to 2 Become 1?”

Daniel laughed. “I think you should ask him during your next meeting.”

You touched his shoulder. “Ohmygod I’m gonna ask him everything about Ginger Spice, you’re so smart Daniel.”

“Not as smart as you,” he chuckled. He went to move your hand from his shoulder, but you interpreted it as him trying to hold your hand. Sober You would have been mortified, but Drunk You went with it. So you happily held his hand as he walked you to your door. Drunk You didn’t notice the look of shock on the driver’s face at the gesture.

As you lay there in bed, you thought about how you should have been overwhelmed with embarrassment at your drunken shenanigans. You were a little. But you realized it was the most fun you’d had in a while, so instead you smiled and took some Advil.

#daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo #dr3 #dr3 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula one #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 #slow burn #suits #lawyered #honey badger #ginger spice #laws of attraction

[her-power]

The End of All Things (Part Four: e.m. x fem reader)

TRIGGER WARNING & C/W: 18++++ MDNI!!! Sweet! Eddie, hurt/comfort, grief, talk of grief, fluff, heavy drug use, suicidal thoughts, talk of death/dying, lots of crying, lots of swearing, some smut, unprotected p+v, trauma

Part One: Denial Part Two: Anger Part Three: Bargaining

Summary: Relationships are tested, choices are made, words hurt, and you might end up kicking Eddie Munson's ass. Full plot summary is on part one of this series.

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: I also submitted an original sketch in this part. It's been years since I have drawn something so it's not great and I fucking forgot how hard it is to draw hands and draw a person lmao but I wanted to give you guys a little added bonus to this series.

A/N #2: This part was a bit rough for me to write, but also super healing in a way. I felt like I was looking into the eyes of all of my friends as I was writing this and just remembering things after so many years since losing my mom. Part Five will be released after the holidays, I need a bit of a break to be with my family and be prepared for the griefy feels. I love you all, thank you for giving me a platform to be creative and to heal. <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eddie was pacing in the break room of the record store; inhaling deeply on his cigarette as he tried to gather his thoughts. The trip back home was uneventful, you had stayed at the Inn in Philadelphia for a night again. He had noticed a change in you after the cemetery. It was subtle changes; you would be unusually quiet, but then you would snap out of it and that big, beautiful smile he loved so much would appear. You were tired a lot; Eddie had noticed the bags under your eyes as the weeks went by. He knew you weren’t sleeping. Even when he would stay in the same bed as you, he knew you only pretended to be asleep. When you thought he was asleep, he would hear you rummage around in the kitchen, or go sit out on the porch, smoking a joint. 

Then it hit the two-month mark, and you were starting to terrify him. Summer was almost over, you had lost interest in things you loved to do, like painting, singing, reading. You would go to work, come home, stay awake, sleep, and then go to work again. 

Eddie would try to get you to talk to him, but you would shut down, blocking out anything and everything around you. 

He plops on the chair, his leg bobbing nervously, cigarette dangling out of his mouth. He stood up and started pacing again, he couldn’t sit. 

Eddie had called the realtor two weeks ago; she had a kind voice and gave him useful information and advice when it came to potentially buying a house. He was also curious why there weren’t any hits on the house, it had been on the market for a while and parts of it had been redone but no one was interested in buying it. She told him it was a mystery to her as well, there was nothing aesthetically wrong with the house, the foundation was perfect, the roof was brand new, but no one seemed to care for it. The owners had lowered their price five thousand dollars under the asking price, and there was still no jump. 

He had been saving money here and there for a couple years; he would call it his emergency fund. But when he had saw how you looked at your childhood home, how your eyes lit up with nostalgia and joy, he knew what he had to do. 

He was doing everything in his power to get enough money for the down payment on the house; he had mentioned the plan to your father. Eddie had thought he would think he was crazy, that neither one of you could afford to live in a house, let alone a mortgage. Instead, he asked Eddie how much he needed. Eddie didn’t want anything, he told him, just support. Your father then said something to him that he will never forget. 

“I have two loves in my life: my wife, and my daughter. Some people aren’t lucky enough to have that happen to them. Some dad’s leave, some do stupid shit and some die. I love my daughter with all my heart, but I don’t want her to feel stuck here. I don’t want her to worry about me or worry about what my future holds. I don’t want her to stop her life because her mother died. I’m gonna be okay. I’m going through it, and I’m always going to, but I’m okay. I’m practically an old man, I lived my life, and it was beautiful. It’s still beautiful, but I’m not gonna fully rest until I know that my daughter will be okay. And if she stays here, she won’t be.” He swallows, taking off his glasses to clean the lenses. “Now, I’m asking you how much you need not as a charity. But as a man, looking at a kid I watched grow up to become a man and fall in love with my daughter, who has been by her side through all of this. Wiped her tears, fed her, laugh with her. My daughter loved that house, and the fact that you didn’t even hesitate to call the realtor speaks volumes just what kind of man you are. You want to see her happy, and you are a big part of her happiness. I couldn’t have asked for a better man to love my daughter. I know her mother would agree. So, you’re gonna tell me a number, and I’m gonna do my best to give it to you. Don’t fight me on this.” 

Eddie had almost sobbed right there; it was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to him. He told him a number, and your father said to give him two weeks. Part of him still didn’t want to take it, but he knew if he didn’t, your father would give the whole thing to the realtor. 

He had lit up another cigarette and blew his bangs out of his face. He had called you a few hours ago; you had the day off and planned on taking a nap. Eddie had told you he had found this certain type of acrylic paint you had needed and asked if he wanted to pick it up for you. You had thanked him but said no, and the rest of the phone call was uncomfortable silence. 

“Munson!” Sully’s booming voice comes echoing into the break room. 

Eddie sighs. “What?” 

Sully peeks his head in, his large frame would intimidate most people, especially since he had an enormous throat tattoo, but Sully was a big teddy bear. He was a businessman second, and a father to two beautiful little girls first. “You good, kid?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He inhales on his cigarette and puts it out in the ashtray.

“Any word from her?” Sully was asking about you, and Eddie had told him he spoke to you a while ago. “How’s the money saving going?” 

Eddie had told Sully about his plans, and he was more than onboard with it. He said he was close to the owner of the record store on Newbury St in Boston, that he had put in a good word for him, and the owner was more than happy to welcome him into the store when he was ready. The record store in Boston was two floors, both floors had rows of records, and the bottom floor had a little sound stage where locals would perform for a monthly open mic night. 

Eddie had gone back on the floor with a tote of jazz vinyls, he sat in the aisle and organized the records by artist. Robin had come to visit, had sat on the floor with him, passing him each artist he asked for. 

“I’m worried about her.” Robin says suddenly, looking up to meet Eddie’s eyes. Eddie glances at her and goes back to moving around the vinyls, swallowing hard. 

“Me too.” Eddie says softly. 

“Has she said anything? When I saw her at the Hideout last week, she looked like a walking zombie for Pete’s sake.” Robin looks up at him, he shook his head, staring at his hands, the skull ring on his middle finger. He fingers it gently. “Are you alright, man?” 

“Not really.” He laughs tiredly and looks at her. “She won’t talk to me about how she’s feeling. She’ll talk to me about everything else but that.” 

“What happened at the cemetery?” She asked gently. 

Eddie shakes his head, running his hands over his face. “A breaking point, I think.” 

“Jesus.” She mutters. “What do we do? Intervention? Get a priest? I don’t know how this shit works; I’ve never had someone close to me die before. Is there a rule book? Do we just not say anything and let her be stubborn and just slowly disappear until she’s whittled down to nothing, and we just glue her back together and tell her we love her but what if at that point it’s too late and we can’t—"

Eddie kneels in front of Robin, gently holding her face. “Hey, breathe, dude. Deep breaths.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to her.” Robin tells him quietly, her eyes filling with tears as she looks at her friend. “Why did this have to happen?” 

Eddie caresses her head, gently patting her and pulls her in for a hug. “I don’t know.” He mutters. He was so tired of saying it, tired of saying he didn’t know, because it sounded so fucking simple, but it wasn’t. 

“Why doesn’t she want to talk to us? We’re her friends, she shouldn’t have to suffer alone.” Robin looks up at him and he sighs, gently knocking her chin. 

“I’m going over there after work. I don’t care if she hates me, I need to at least get an idea of what’s going on.” He leans back against the shelves, leaning his arms on his bent knees and Robin wipes her face. 

“How are you holding up?” Eddie looks at her. “With all of this? Losing her too?” 

Eddie gives her a sad smile. “Would you believe if I told you I was fine?” 

“No.” She smirks at him. 

“It’s a surreal feeling honestly.” He realizes he hasn’t spoken about this with anyone, even you. “The only time I ever experienced some sort of loss was when my dad went to prison, but fuck him, he can rot there for all I care. But he’s still alive, she’s not. I’m still trying to process how someone can be here one minute, living, breathing, and then just be…dead.” He shrugs, realizing he’s crying and quickly wipes his tears away, he almost laughs. “See? I don’t even notice I’m crying, it’s stupid.” 

“No, it’s not.” Robin says, reaching over to squeeze his knee. “You’re going through it too.” 

“Yeah, but I feel like I shouldn’t.” He sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “She wasn’t my mother.” 

Robin gives him a sweet smile. “No, but she was the next best thing to you.” 

He sighs, shaking his head, another tear falls down his cheek. “There’s just so much pain in her. I can feel it.” 

He points to his heart, “I see how much pain she’s in and I want to take all of it, so she doesn’t have to, I’d rather suffer with it for the rest of my life, then watch someone like her go through that when she didn’t deserve it. Her mother didn’t deserve to die. I guess no one does, even the shitty ones.” 

“Nah, the shitty ones deserve it.” Robin laughs and Eddie chuckles. “You really love her, huh?” 

Eddie nods and he sighs, looking into her eyes. “I have to tell you something.” 

Eddie tells her his entire plan, about the house, about your father helping him with some of the down payment. He told her about going to see your childhood home, how it’s been on the market since June, and no one is interested. He told her that if his plan works, he’s gonna ask you to marry him the first night you sleep in the house, and that was the first time he has said it out loud. Robin cried happy tears, followed by punching him in the arm. 

“You guys are leaving me!” 

“Ow!” Eddie laughs, rubbing his arm. “It’s not even set in stone yet.”

“Dude, you know it’s gonna be!” Robin smiles, pulling him in for a hug. “I’m happy for you, but I’m gonna fucking miss you, man.” 

Eddie kisses the top of her head, rubbing her shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll miss you too.” 

“Steve is gonna be devastated.” 

“Nah he’ll be fine.” Eddie jokes. “Yeah, I know. His little boy is growing up.” 

“That sounds so gross when you say it like that.” 

                             ***

Eddie had driven to your house after closing the store; your car was still in the driveway and the outside lights were on. Your father had gone to Jimmy’s for the weekend, and he had called Eddie at the store to make sure he planned on going over there. Your father didn’t say it, but he was worried about you too. 

Eddie walks into the house, hearing the television playing in the living room. He peeks his head into the living and sees your form curled up on the couch, a knitted blanket over you with your hood over your head. It was freezing in the house, Eddie had saw you set the air conditioner to 60 degrees. The only source of light was from the television, it was nick at nite and I Love Lucy was playing. Eddie notices the three empty beer bottles on the coffee table, a half smoked joint, and a bottle of aspirin. He quietly clears the table, dumping out the remaining beer from the bottles in the sink and tossing them in the recycling. He washes his hands and heads back to the living room; he squats on the side of the couch where you were laying, leaning forward to kiss your cheeks softly and caress your head. You stir, opening your eyes, meeting Eddie’s and you smile softly. 

“Hey baby.” Eddie says sweetly to you, rubbing your cheek. 

“Hey.” Your voice is groggy, and you sit up a little, stretching. “What time is it?” You pull your hood down, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 

“A little after ten. Go back to sleep, I just wanted you to know I was here.” He kisses the top of your hand, and you lean into him to kiss his lips. 

“No, it’s okay, I feel like I haven’t seen you.” You lay back on the couch pillow, reaching out your hand to cup his cheek. Eddie put his hand over yours, and scans your face, he hated how tired you looked. Your hair was in a messy braid over your shoulder, you looked like you had been crying for hours before he got there. 

And your eyes.

Eddie inhales a shaky breath as he looks in your eyes and sees that the light that was once there, was gone. You notice his staring. 

“What?” You ask with a smile. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, getting up and sitting next to you, lifting your legs to drape them over his lap. “I just missed you today.” 

You smile, reaching over to entwine your fingers. Eddie leans his head back on the couch, gently rubbing massaging circles around your thighs as you both stare at the television. 

Eddie feels you shudder under his touch, so he stops. 

Apparently, you didn’t want him to stop, because the next thing that happens is you straddling him, pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He holds your waist tightly and groans when you grind yourself against his jeans. You pull off your hoodie, wearing only a lace bra and you deepen the kiss again. 

Talk to her, idiot! Eddie is saying to himself, and he moans in response when your teeth graze his throat. She knows exactly what she’s doing, she’s avoiding, she knows how she looks, stop kissing her and talk to her! 

Eddie’s conscious screams at him but he continues to kiss you, continues to touch your skin. His skin prickles with goosebumps when your hand touches his stomach above his jeans. Your hand slides down into his pants, grasping his hard length in your hand and Eddie moans loudly.  

You’re a stupid fuck! Snap out of it, dummy! 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Eddie finally says breathlessly against your lips. “Stop, stop.”

You pull away from him, removing your hand as if it burned. You stare at him with confusion and concern that you may have hurt him. Eddie runs his hands over his face, leaning forward on his knees. “We need to talk.” 

“Don’t like that.” You say softly, laughing a little, your heart was racing. 

“No, it’s not that kind of talk.” Eddie gives you a sad smile, taking your hand in his and rubbing his thumb over your skin. “You’re starting to scare me.” 

You pause, staring at his face. “What? What do you mean?” 

Eddie looks at you, really looks at you. “You know what I mean.” 

You pull your hand away from his and he sighs, he can already feel you pulling away, he can see it in your eyes too. “Eddie, I’m fine.” 

Frustration rose in his chest, and he wants to laugh but he doesn’t, he scoffs instead. “Is that a lie you’re telling me or telling yourself? Do you really think you’re fine?” 

She blinks, her eyes already widening with tears. “I’m not lying, Eddie.” 

“When was the last time you ate? When was the last time you did something you actually enjoyed? Because for two months, you have been disappearing in front of my eyes.” His own tears were filling his eyes, and he blinks them away. “You need to talk to me.” 

“And say what? What do you want me to say, Eddie?” You raise your voice. 

“Fucking anything!” He gets up from the couch and paces. You watch him with sad eyes. “Jesus Christ; I know you’re hurting; I know you’re in pain, I can clearly see that but all I’m asking is for you to talk to me. I told you I’m here for you, but instead you’re pushing me away!” 

“Okay. You want me to talk? Let’s talk.” Your bottom lip trembles as you look up at him and toss your hoodie back over your body. “Every single damn day I am praying that I don’t wake up in this life, and I wake up in the next because I am tired. I am so tired, Eddie. When I sleep, I don’t feel this fucking throbbing pain in my chest like I feel right now. When I sleep, I have dreams instead of nightmares now and I see her. I see her and she’s alive and I want to stay there. I physically cannot stand to look at myself in the mirror because of how fucked up I look. I don’t tell you these things because it’s not your fucking job to heal me, it’s no one’s job.” 

Eddie stands there stunned, his fingers clench around his chest, a lump forms in his throat, and a breath escapes him. “You’re telling me, that every day you pray you don’t wake up? How the fuck do you think that makes me feel?!” 

“You wanted to talk!” You snap at him. “You wanted the truth so I’m telling you!”

Tears form in his eyes as he stares at you. “Do you have any idea what that would do to me if I lost you? I mean, fuck, I feel like I’m almost there just by how you’ve been lately. It would destroy me if something happened to you. It would kill me. And you pray for that every day?”

You stand up from the couch, grabbing the joint from the table and lighting it quickly; you inhale and let the smoke billow from your nostrils. “I don’t want to die Eddie.” 

“Then what the fuck are you saying to me?!” He yells, tears spilling from his eyes. 

“I’m saying I don’t want to feel this pain anymore! If I could cut it out of me without bleeding out I would do it! If I could swallow a bunch of pills just to get rid of it and be okay, I would do it! I don’t want to die; I want to kill this part of me that feels all this pain and guilt and fucking grief and just be done with it!” You yell at him, hot tears stream down your face. “So yeah, I pray for it.” 

Eddie runs his hands over his mouth, a small sob escaping him as he stares at you. “Why haven’t you told me this?” His voice is so full of pain, it kills you. 

“Because it’s not your job to heal me.” 

“It is if I want to spend the rest of my life with you!” He cries and your breath hitches. “Fuck! I want it all with you. I want you; I want the marriage, I want those babies with you, I want a fucking house in the suburbs with a damn dog! Hell, maybe even a cat. But I meant it when I said that when I look to the future, you’re in it. And right now; I feel like you’re telling me you don’t want any of that.” 

“Of course, I do.” You say quietly, averting your eyes, wiping away your tears. 

“I don’t think you do.” Eddie’s hand goes over his heart again, feeling it slowly break. 

“You’re not inside my head, okay?” You snap at him and point to your temple. “It’s a fucking mess in here. Why would you want to be with someone for the rest of your life who can’t even take a shower? Who has a devil and angel on her shoulder, one telling her it’s okay to feel all this pain and the other telling her, grab those drugs from a few months ago! You won’t feel a goddamn thing!”

“Hold on a minute, you told me you didn’t have any left.” He was big mad; you could see it in his eyes. 

“I lied.” You meet his eyes, and he lets out a laugh. 

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do and hate to break it to you, sweetheart. It’s not gonna work.” He wipes his eyes and his nose. “Did you do it?” 

“No.” You whisper. 

“Go get it then.” Eddie sneers and you look at him like he slapped you. “If you want to do it, numb your pain that way, fucking doit. I’ll do it with you. It will be a Kodak fucking moment.”

“No. Eddie what the fu—" 

“Why? You want to kill that part of yourself, right? Why don’t you kill it slowly with the drugs? Better yet, I’ll go find the guy that supplied the shit that I had, and I’ll go on a fucking ride.” He heads towards the door, tears still running down his face, his eyes wild. You follow him and grab his arm. 

“Eddie, stop it! That could fucking kill you!” 

“Just a small part of me.” Eddie says, his tone cold. 

You let go of his arm, eyes narrowing. “Oh, fuck you!” 

“Stings, doesn’t it?” 

“What are you doing!? Why are you acting like this?!” You yell through your tears. 

“Because you’re not the only one who lost her!” It’s out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Your eyes are wide, glistening with tears. He stares at you, rubbing his palm over his lips. “I cannot imagine the pain you feel right now. But I look at you and I can feel it radiate it from you, every single day. The light in your eyes is gone. And it’s because you choose to suffer with this grief alone.” 

You step back from him, shaking your head as you stare at him. “You know what? You need to go. Get out.” 

“You think I’m gonna leave after what you just told me? You’re out of your mind.” He crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You are a fucking asshole!” Your eyes are wide, wild. You open the front door. “I don’t care if you sleep outside in your van, you need to get away from me!” Tears are pouring down your cheeks as you throw open the front door, you look up at him. “You promised me you wouldn’t push. You promised.” 

“I guess we’re both liars then.” His big brown eyes match your same wild ones, and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Please. Just go. Go away.” 

“I’m not leaving you.” Eddie says through his gritted teeth. 

“I want you to! I don’t want to see you! I don’t want to be in the same room as you! Get the fuck out of my house! Get out or I’m calling the fucking cops!” 

He stares at you hard. “You wouldn’t do that.” 

“I wouldn’t? I’ll just say the magic words, town freak, right?” 

His breath hitches and he felt his heart snap in two. Those words have haunted him for five years, and you used it as ammunition, you aimed, and fired. He looks out to his van and then back at you, his face turns from sadness to full on anger. “Fine. Go ahead and suffer alone.” 

He walks away from you, you slam the door shut, and slide down to the floor. Your breathing accelerates and you sob into your hands. You did it, you actually did it. You just took the last ten years, wrapped it up in a ball and threw it in the dumpster. 

Eddie hops into his van, not even bothering to put his seat belt on and peels out of your driveway. He doesn’t even know where he’s going, he just drives. His heart was pounding, behind his eyes stung, he felt like he had his entire body was vibrating. He passes the Leaving Hawkins sign and keeps driving until he’s on a dark stretch of road; he pulls over to the side and turns the car off. He leans his forehead against the steering wheel, his breathing picking up, his hands grip the wheel in a white-knuckle grip. He leans back, punching his dashboard not once, not twice, but three times, and he screams, the sound so guttural, so full of pain, full of anger. “Fuuuuuuck!!!!!!!” 

He sobs, hard. His body trembling as every single emotion that he had bottled up these last few months finally made its way to the surface. He shouldn’t have pushed, he knows that, but he’s glad he did. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have known how bad you were hurting, but it didn’t matter now. You told him to go, so he did.  He takes a cigarette out, lights it and inhales, his breath trembling as the smoke comes out. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore, he needed to feel something else other than this pain, and he felt like a goddamn hypocrite when he turns on the van, driving to Indianapolis to a spot where he knew he’d be able to get rid of his pain.  It didn’t matter now, none of it mattered, he was just pulling the strings to his own destruction. 

He completely disassociated on the ride to the city; he doesn’t even remember putting on music. He goes down a side street, trying to remember if he’s in the right spot, and when he sees the neon BEER sign, he knew he reached his destination. He only knew about this place because of his dad, he had brought him here when he was last out of prison. In every corner of the bar, someone was snorting something, drinking something, smoking something. He parks the van and gets out; as soon as he opens the door to the bar he is hit with aromas of weed, cigarette smoke, and stale beer. It wasn’t that crowded, and Eddie was glad. He sits on the stool at the bar, the bartender was an older woman, maybe in her late fifties, with kind eyes and a sweet smile. 

“What can I get you, honey?” She asks sweetly, placing a napkin in front of him. 

“Whiskey, please, straight.” He hands her a twenty-dollar bill, which she hesitates to take, but does anyway. 

She places the glass in front of him, and he brings the rim of the glass to his lips, knocking the whole thing back. He winces at the bitter taste and twirls his finger around asking for another. She refills his glass, and he nurses this one. 

“You look like you’ve been trekking through a war zone there, sweetheart.” She tells him gently, leaning against the bar, shining a glass. 

Eddie meets her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I’m not gonna pry, I’m just not sure if you’ve come to the wrong place or the right place.” She gently pats his hand and goes down to the other side of the bar to talk to the other patrons. Eddie glances around the bar, and his eyes fix on a booth in the corner. There’s a man speaking to a woman with their heads bowed, she couldn’t have been much younger than Eddie, she was strikingly beautiful, but had very sad eyes, he notices the exchange. The man had put something in her hand, and she walks away from him, leaving the bar. The man notices Eddie staring and nods at him with a smile, Eddie nods back, looking away from him.  He stares at his glass, twirling it in his fingers, the brown liquid moves side to side as he stares at the glass. He turns his head to look over his shoulder, the man was still there, quietly sipping his beer, looking up at the television that had some sort of sports game on. 

Eddie knocks the rest of his second drink back and gets up from the stool. He feels the hair prickle on the back of his neck as he walks towards the man. The man looks at him and smiles, leaning back in his seat. He looked like a washed-up version of Robert DeNiro, a little intimidating, otherwise he seemed nice. 

Eddie takes out his hand and the man takes it. “Hi, I’m Eddie.” 

“Leon.” He sounded southern, Eddie thought. “What can I do for you?” 

“I don’t know, what do you got?” Eddie asks, already feeling the effects of the drugs that he didn’t even take yet. That’s how much he loved it the first time he tried it, and that was by accident. Again, it didn’t matter anymore. 

Puppet. 

“Uppers, downers, china white—"

Pulling the strings.

“How much for the China white?” 

Destruction. 

Eddie had driven back to the county line outside of Hawkins and had parked in an abandoned fishing spot. The only source of light was from the moon reflecting off the pond, and he opens the square. Leon had told him that if he wasn’t going to shoot it, he’d have to go slow, a small bump. Eddie hated needles, despite having all his tattoos, he couldn’t understand how someone could willingly stick a needle in their arm. 

You’re about to snort it, you stupid fuck. What’s the difference? It’s still heroin.

Eddie takes a cassette from under his seat, he didn’t even bother to look at who the artist was, he was gonna throw it out anyway. He sprinkles a little bit of powder on it, no bigger than his fingernail and takes a rolled-up dollar bill. With no hesitation, he’s snorting it into his air ways. He grunts, his nostrils stinging, and a wave of nausea hits him. The cassette tape falls out of his hands, and he feels the vomit hit the back of his throat. He pushes his door open with his shoulder, vomiting all over the ground. He leans his body onto the door panel, wiping his mouth, coughing a little and that’s when he feels it. His eyes flutter close, and he feels a smile grace his lips. 

“Oh shit.” He whispers, feeling the euphoria coursing through his blood stream, his nervous system, everywhere. He tries to think of something, think of you, think of her, and he felt nothing. Puppet. Strings. Destruction. He practically drags himself into his driver seat and slams his door. He reaches for the bag of powder, blindly finds the dollar bill and snorts again. He laughs when he lifts his head up, it falls back onto the headrest. Before he knew it, it was all gone and he was smoking a cigarette, his eyes half lidded, his head nodding to the side. He would jump awake, inhale on the cigarette and nod out again. He was just resting his eyes, he told himself. 

When he opens his eyes again, he’s in your driveway. He sits up straighter, seeing that it was still dark outside. How the fuck did I get here? He pushes the front door open and practically falls out. He holds his head, the sudden pressure from getting up too fast making him dizzy as he stumbles onto your front porch, pushing your door open. He calls your name, but you don’t answer. He notices the stillness as he stood there, noticing all the lights were off, there was no sound. He suddenly felt sober, and his feet take him to the center of your living room. The light from the bathroom came through the door that was ajar, and all he hears is the sound of his own breathing and his footfalls. 

He pushes the door open slowly with his palm, the hinges squeaking, and he sees you lying there. You’re on your back, your head tilted to one side, arms splayed out, unmoving. 

A groan escapes him, a sound that started from the very depths of his soul. His body falls against the door, and he falls to his knees. His body felt stiff as he crawled to you, hot, angry tears were pooling from his eyes. 

“Nooo…” He groans, his hand shaking as he turns your face, your eyes in a fixed stare. He inhales deeply, cupping your face. You just have to kiss her, and she’ll wake up. That’s all, like Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. 

Eddie kisses your lips gently, his tears falling to your cheeks, and he lifts his head. You still lay there unmoving, no breath from your lips. His mouth falls open in a gasp as he looks at you, and his body shakes with sobs. He stares at your face, he couldn’t understand what was happening, why this was happening. 

“Please come back to me, please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything I said, please.” He cups your face, smoothing back your hair; you were so cold. “Just wake up now, and we can start over, that’s all. Just wake up…please!!!”  He cries and cradles your limp body to him, trying to figure out something, anything that will get you to wake up. He kisses your cheeks, your hair, your forehead. 

His head falls back, and a loud, guttural wail escapes his lungs. “Nooooooo!!!” 

“Nooooo!” Eddie screams himself awake. The sun was beating down on him in the van as he catches his breath, looking around, panic and fright in his wide brown eyes. He was still parked at the pond. He feels bile rise in his throat and barely gets the door open before he’s violently vomiting on the ground. His vomit from the night before inches from where he stood. He wipes his mouth, his skin sweaty, damp. He squints in the sunlight and holds his stomach. He was still high, but functional, his logical part of his brain working faster than it did last night. 

“Fucking idiot, Munson.” He says to himself, and then he remembers his dream. A breath is caught in his throat, and he scrambles himself back in the van, he starts it up, throwing it into reverse and speeds out of there. He was dry heaving on the way to your house, having to stop only once to pull over and vomit again. 

He almost forgets to put the van into park when he screeches into your driveway. He almost falls out and scrambles up the steps, your door was unlocked. He doesn’t bother closing it when he runs in and shouts your name. His blood ran cold when he didn’t get a response from you, and he screams your name again. He runs into the living room, his breath caught when he sees that the bathroom door is ajar like in his dream. His heart pounded and he felt his hands shake: it was just a dream, it wasn’t real. Just a dream. 

The door squeaks open, and you walk out, towel drying your hair from taking a long hot shower. A whimper escapes his lungs, and he startles you. 

The towel falls from your hands as you stare at him and he stares at you, he’s looking at you like he’s seeing a ghost. You immediately notice his features, his pale face, his eyes wide with panic, almost black. He was sweaty, and your hand goes to your mouth to hold back your cry, you knew immediately what he had done and part of you felt responsible. 

There was desperation on both of your faces, and the two of you crash into each other, sobbing and holding each other. Eddie holds your face in his hands, kissing you over and over, his tears mixing with yours. 

“You’re here.” He kept saying and you weren’t sure why. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He cries holding your face and you shake your head, sputtering, you can feel your face flush as you caress his face, his hair, staring into his eyes. 

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have had you leave. I didn’t do the rest of the drugs, I got rid of them, I flushed them. I didn’t do them, I swear.” Panic is in your voice, and he holds onto your waist tightly as you keep touching him, keeping him upright. 

Eddie feels his heart split in two and feels the guilt bubbling up in his chest as his head falls to your shoulder and he sobs. You hold him there, rubbing the back of his head as you both sobbed. “I fucked up last night, I’m so sorry. But I needed to not feel anything. I thought it didn’t matter, I thought I lost you forever and I couldn’t…couldn’t handle losing another person, I couldn’t handle that pain. There’s so much of it and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” 

You pull away and hold his face, shaking your head as you give him a small smile. “We have to feel it, I realized that after you left last night. That’s one of the only ways that lets us know that she was real, that the pain is real; that our love is real.” 

“How do you not hate me?” His lip trembles. “After everything I said, after what I did.” 

“Because I love you. No matter what and that’s a hard fucking pill to swallow when you realize how much you love a person, even when you’re so fucking angry at them.”

You run your thumb along his lips, and he smiles softly. “When you left last night, I wanted to die. I was awful to you, I pushed you away because I thought your life would be a lot less chaotic without me in it. And then…” You inhale deeply, your voice shaking. “Then I felt her. I felt this warmth, this blanket of pure comfort and I just let it consume me. Everything poured out, I thought my guts were gonna shut down and I would be stuck in a loop of constant tears forever, but I let her in, and she stayed awhile.” 

Eddie laughs a little as tears continue to fall from his eyes, he caresses your face, your hair and kisses you softly. “I love you.” He whispers to you. 

“I know.” You smirk up at him, wiping away his tears. 

He kisses you again, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, letting out a sigh of relief. You hold him tight, rubbing his back and arms. 

He takes a shower soon afterwards; scrubbing the last night away until his skin felt raw, and he swore he rubbed off most of his chest tattoos. He finds you in your room, and he walks in with no shirt, and just his jeans. His wet curly hair stuck to his chest. You’re sitting upright, sketching in what looks like your mother's sketch pad. 

He sits on the edge of your bed, glancing down at the book. “You’re sketching?” 

You look up at him and smile; you were just doodling. Some wildflowers, eye shapes, your hands. You didn’t feel ready to paint yet, and you forgot how much you loved to sketch. You couldn’t force yourself to be happy, but you could try to be a bit more human. 

You feel his eyes on you and look up again. He’s smiling that sweet smile, his dimples large. He still looked a little high, but he was less sweaty, less jumpy. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to feel once it was completely out of his system. Would it hurt? He wondered. But he realized he didn’t care if it did, he deserved to feel that pain.

You close the sketch pad and put it on your nightstand, you scoot closer to him, you drape your legs on either side of him while he kneeled. His hand reaches up to caress your face, your lips, and you pull his mouth towards yours in a sweet kiss. You lay back, taking him with you, he cups your face, his other hand going to your leg to hook around his waist, the kiss deepening. His lips travel to your throat, leaving a soft trail of kisses there and to the center of your chest. You sigh lovingly at his touch, and he lifts up your shirt, leaving soft kisses on your tummy, around your navel and ribs. He feels you shudder at his touch, and he pulls you up, peeling your shirt over your head. You were naked underneath, and he kisses you again. The tips of his fingers glide up your arm, leaving goosebumps to prickle on your skin. You grip his forearm, and gently move your fingers up and down as he kisses your neck, slowly moving down, leaving soft kisses around your breasts, and taking your nipple into his mouth, gently sucking. Your back arches and you moan; he goes to your other breast, gently kissing and sucking. His hand travels down your belly while he teases your nipples, and he snaps the button of your jeans. He meets your lips passionately again, grunting softly as his hand slides down over your sex and fingers your clit generously. You arch your hips, and he pulls off your jeans and underwear. He hovers above you after taking off his own jeans and rubs your face. He leans down to kiss you, his lips soft. You let out a moan and he grunts when you feel him push himself inside you, your back arches at the feeling, a loving sigh escaping your lips. His mouth stays hovered above yours as he thrusts, and you look into his eyes. His fingertips dig gently into your thighs and a throaty moan escapes his lips.  He caresses your face, kissing your lips softly, burying his face in your chest, licking around your nipple again. You grip his shoulders, moaning loud, the sensation of his gentleness, the grinding of his hips, was enough to get you to scream. Your orgasm was building in your lower belly, but you didn’t want this feeling to end. You held onto it, and flipped him onto his back, riding him gently, your palms on his chest. Your clit rubs against his pelvis, and your head falls back in a whimper. He holds your hips, his head arching back against the pillow. He sits up, holding him to you in the butterfly position, his arms tightly around your middle, his lips against your breast. The tingles in your belly grow, and you clench around him, your head falls back as you cry out in pleasure, your orgasm causing every part of your body to tremble, and tears spring to your eyes. He groans against you as he orgasms soon after you, he holds you to him, still catching up on your breathing and you look into his eyes. His hand caresses your cheek, and he kisses you gently. You push yourself off him so you’re sitting more in his lap, pressing your forehead against his and he hugs your waist.

Staring into his big brown eyes, you give him a soft smile, gently petting his face. “From now on, we need to be honest with each other. No more secrets.”

He shakes his head, smiling at you. “No more secrets.”

“I’m not okay, Eddie.” You tell him quietly, your eyes filling up with tears, he tightens his hold. “And I won’t be for a long time. When she died…I think, I think a part of me did too. That’s where that pain is.” You press your hand over your heart, and he gently kisses the center of your chest. “They say there’s stages of this grief, but I think they’re full of shit. I think you go through each stage, over and over and over again. It’s constant, like a running stream. And I know you’re not okay, either. You were right when you said that I’m not the only one who lost her—”

“Sweetheart, that was—”

“Let me finish.” You smile at him, kissing his nose and he stares into your eyes. “I’m not the only one that lost her. Yeah, I lost the bond that we formed as soon as I was born, I lost the late-night talks and getting my tears wiped away because she was my mother. You lost someone very special to you, someone who showed you love and comfort and a bond that can be so rare to find. I will never take that away from you. Your grief is your grief, not mine. But we can heal together. It's not gonna be easy, it’s gonna be really fucking hard but I plan on doing this with you for the rest of my life. I plan on feeling every single emotion that God or whoever the fuck throws at me, at us. I plan on you being by my side until we’re old, watching our grandchildren grow up, yelling at each other on how to figure out technology because let’s face it, this world is going to be run by machines soon. You are the best thing, the craziest thing, that has ever happened to me, and I’m gonna hold onto that until I can’t anymore.” 

His eyes are filled with tears, and he smiles large, kissing you passionately. You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek before getting off his lap. He lights up a cigarette, inhaling it deeply and stretches. He looks at you with his arm draped over his shoulder, just watching you. He stands up to get dressed but you stop him.

“Wait.” You tell him, grabbing your sketch book. “Stay like that."

"What? Why?” He laughs.

“Shut up, don’t move.” 

He smiles at you and stays still, and you begin to sketch out his form. Eddie suddenly felt shy as he hears your pencil hit the paper, this was such an intimate moment, and he didn’t want to mess it up. You concentrated so hard on what you were doing, and he felt his heart skip a few beats as he watches you, both nude, just the sounds of the creativity coming out of your brain. 

You smiled when you were finished, and Eddie was able to move his limbs, feeling stiff all over. You wipe off the pencil dust and hand it to him. He smiles large, you had captured him so beautifully and he realizes it was true, you saw him for who he truly was. 

Just Eddie. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Autumn had come out of nowhere, and you wrap your sweater tighter around you as another wave of nausea hits you. You had left work early; it seemed like every twenty minutes you were running to the bathroom to puke your guts out. You tried to think about what you had eaten the night before; was it the chicken? Was it the leftover meatloaf you had made for your father’s birthday? Eddie had been very cryptic lately, and it was starting to piss you off. He would ask you questions about what color paint you’d use to paint a kitchen, hardwood or carpet; you would overhear him talking to your father about stuff that had to do with finances, and your father had a glint in his eyes, and you tried to think of anything that could possibly make sense. The nausea hits you again and you run to the bathroom and vomit hard. You swore there was nothing left in your system to vomit but your body had other plans. You lean against the tub, the coolness of the porcelain an odd comfort against your skin. 

Your eyes land on an unopened box of tampons, and a sudden thought occurred to you. Closing your eyes, you think back to when you last had your period; trying to figure out the math was like trying to figure out a formula with Einstein.  Your eyes snap open; it had been over a month since your last period.

A month. 

Nausea hits you again and you grip the porcelain, preparing for the worst but nothing comes. “There’s no way.” You say to yourself and lift yourself up on shaky legs. 

Grabbing your keys, you rush out the door to your car, and go into a local pharmacy. You take the first test you see, and don’t make eye contact with the cashier as she rings you up.  When you arrived home, you were grateful Eddie was still at work, and your father was finishing up a construction job in Ohio. You rip open the test, reading the directions. 

“Pee on it? How the fuck…” Your eyes squint as you look at the small diagram drawing of how to get coat the test in urine. Groaning, you pull down your pants, and do your business, yelling comedically as you get urine all over your hand trying to match the test up with the stream. The directions said you had to wait three minutes for the results, and you sit on the toilet lid, your leg bopping up and down anxiously as you wait. 

Once the three minutes was up, you don’t look right away. Your arm reaches the sink counter, and you take it, looking down at the tiny window. There were two lines, and you suddenly forgot what that meant. You scramble to dig the directions out of the trash, scanning the black ink until you reach the result section. 

One line meant it was negative. 

Two lines meant…

Your hands shake as you stare at the test in your hand, like it was a rare piece of art, and you were trying desperately to see if the picture would move. 

No matter how you look at it, the result is gonna stay the same. 

A smile creeps up on your lips, tears well in your eyes and you cover your mouth with your hand. 

Something happens to you just now; it felt like the Earth shifted right at your feet. Before there was a constant tilt for so many months, now suddenly it was upright. Everything seemed brighter, you felt a dull ache in your chest, but it wasn’t pain, no, it was something different. 

Something warm. 

There was a human being growing inside you. Yours and Eddie’s baby. Your father’s grandchild, your mother’s grandchild. Yours. A being that had a part of you and a part of the man you loved. Your best friend, your lover, your confidant. 

You were going to be parents. 

You were going to be a mother. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fluff #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fem!reader