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#never in my life would i have thought those two would have known each other
bookofbonbon · 3 months
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you keep him there - coriolanus snow.
Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader.
Warnings: Death. Dead Body. Toxic relationship. Toxic!Snow x Toxic!Reader.
Summary: Coriolanus is now President and you his First Lady. Perhaps you don't particularly like him but, you are protective of him.
Word Count: 1213.
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You sit in calm silence, hand pressed to your temple - careful to avoid your meticulously styled hair as a cigarette burns between your fingers - the beginnings of a headache coming on as you knead the taut skin softly, waiting patiently for the arrival of your husband. 
You’d known Coriolanus your entire life. A common theme amongst most polite Capitol society. Of course, 15 years on and the divide between old money and new still existed; flimsy but very much still there. 
Were the two of you close growing up? No.
But, did you consider him friend? Also, no. 
At the very least however, did you like him? Not in the slightest. 
Of course, none of that mattered, not when each of you headed your respective families; families who made up half of the remaining four of the Old Guard of the Elite - Snow and Blizzard.
So, it was to no one’s surprise when your betrothal to Snow was announced at 20; the match arranged by your respective grandparents - although you suspected Coriolanus had more of a hand in it than his senile grandmother did - and cementing your union as husband and wife at 21.
So, despite your dislike of the newly minted, 23-year-old President of Panem, his role as husband in your life actually meant something to you - you’d always protect him.
It’s what got you into your current predicament. 
“How many times must I tell you to stop smoking inside?” his voice shatters the silence from where he stands on the other side of the Parlour.
His long legs carry him quickly over to you, a deep scowl etched into his features as he plucks the cigarette from between your fingers and crushes it in the ashtray. 
“The nicotine will stain the walls yellow. Not to mention the smell,” he stands over you, sharp nose turned up in disgust. 
“So, I’ll have an Avox clean the walls and replace the furniture,” you resolve, standing from the plush couch and leading him out of the Parlour and into the Drawing room. “Besides, that’s the least of our material problems, right now.”
“And what about when the nasty habit leads you to an early grave? Hm? What will an Avox do then?” 
You stop outside of the drawing rooms closed doors. Turning to face him, you lean against the frame and smile. 
“Come now, Coco, I thought we agreed never to lie to each other,” you tut. “Let’s not pretend the prospect of an early grave doesn’t secretly thrill you.” 
Coriolanus rolls his eyes at the nickname, he simultaneously hated and grew fond of it. 
“And yet, still you pretend you don’t like me,” he raises an eyebrow at you. “Whether you choose to believe me or not, I would like to grow old with you.”
“Or not,” you smile tightly, turning swiftly back toward the closed doors. 
A lie, you knew Coriolanus held affection for you, no matter how oddly he showed it. Although, the same could be said about you with him. However, it was just that affection - it wasn’t a lie that you didn’t like him. 
“As I was saying, yellow stained parlour walls are the least of our material problems right now,” you open the doors of the drawing room and reveal the dead body on the floor. “Not when Livia Cardew’s fiancé is bleeding out on my new rug.”
“I’m not sure what it is about me that seems to invite talks of treason.”
You find yourself leaning, once again, against the doors frame as Coriolanus steps further into the room.
“Must be all those outward displays of affection you show toward me,” he speaks sarcastically, crouching down. “I'll have a new rug made for you.”
You snort something of a laugh - a rare sound. 
“What did he say?”
“He came to deliver something of a warning to me.” 
You stand behind Coriolanus, placing a hand on his shoulder and peering down at the blue faced and bloody nose body. 
“Is that so?”
You make a noise of agreement, “something about power getting to your head and boasting that he himself was about to step into immense power in a few short weeks when Livia’s mother steps down; that he was doing me a favor by stopping by, if I had any sense I would leave you before it was too late.”
“Truly two pretty little idiots,” you scoff. “As if we’d allow the fool and that idiotic girl to take control of the Capitol’s largest bank. Although, I suppose we should thank them,” you wonder aloud. “They have made it significantly easier on us.”
“Thank you,” Coriolanus pats his cheek and stands.
Ushering the two of you out of the room, he guides you to the front doors with a hand on the small of your back.
You laugh, proper this time; the sound is nice, reminding Coriolanus of a songbird - without the temptation to shoot it dead - and it brings a genuine smile to his face. 
“What of Livia?” you ask, as he takes your coat from an Avox and helps you into it.
“We keep her alive, a small token of our mercy,” he decides. “But we strip her of the majority of her family’s assets on the grounds of treason, replace her with someone Capitol society trusts as heir to the Cardew Empire and leave her with only enough to keep her just above the line of poverty.” 
Turning you toward him, Coriolanus observes you quietly with a strange look in his eye as he tucks a stray hair back into place and fixes the imperfection.
“I supposed I should break the unfortunate news of her never-to-be husband’s passing to her, I’m already ten minutes late.”
You smooth out the front of your coat, stepping out of his reach and out the door but, not before pressing a kiss to his cheek. 
Before, you can clear the landing to descend the front steps however, Coriolanus calls to you. 
“Hm?” you turn back to him. 
“Would you…” he trails off, the strange look still in his eye - it’s insecurity.
You don’t point it out.  
“Would I?” you repeat, stepping back within his reach. 
“Leave me,” he finishes, recalling the earlier warning given to you. “I mean, after all, you say you don’t like me.”
His lips pull bitterly.
You almost laugh in his face, that after five years together and all you had done for him that he would still question your devotion to him. 
“I don’t,” you shrug, nonchalant. 
His jaw tenses, ears turning red with anger… or maybe humiliation but, you don’t give him time to dwell on it; crowding his space and gripping his jaw tightly between your fingers, you force him to look at you.
“But, I also don’t have to like you. I love you and that’s enough for me, I can only hope that someday that it’ll be enough for you too,” you loosen your grip. 
Coriolanus swallows thickly, eyes closing as he presses his forehead to yours.
“It’s enough for me,” he whispers. 
“Always remember,” you remind him, pushing him back slightly to look into his eyes “We’re a team. Snow lands on top and…”
“the Blizzard keeps it there,” he finishes.
You keep him there.
-
All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.
Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.
bookofbonbon 2023. All rights reserved.
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mellowsaturns · 10 months
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in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)
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BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER
summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.
warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action
wc: 4.7k
a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)
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Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.
And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.
Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.
On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.
Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.
“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”
He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.
One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.
You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.
With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”
The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.
“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”
Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.
But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.
Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”
Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.
On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.
Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.
Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”
“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”
Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”
After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.
The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.
Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.
But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.
Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.
Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.
How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.
Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.
During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.
Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.
You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”
He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.
His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”
When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.
“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”
“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”
He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.
He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”
You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”
“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”
He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.
“Let me talk to her. Please.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”
“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.
And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.
You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”
Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”
My darling.
For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.
The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.
You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”
Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.
There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.
You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.
“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”
He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.
“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”
Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.
“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”
“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”
In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.
You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.
He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.
Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.
They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.
During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.
And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.
Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.
He misses you. So damn much.
“Shut up,” you mutter.
He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.
“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”
“I’m sorry I left you with them.”
You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.
He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”
The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.
He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.
A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.
The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”
“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.
You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.
“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.
Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.
Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.
“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”
“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”
You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.
Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.
You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.
But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.
“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.
Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.
“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”
He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”
You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”
“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”
Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.
“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”
He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.
He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.
When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”
You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.
“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”
Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.
Those were your trigger words.
“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.
Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.
Blue.
You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.
At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.
“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”
He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”
You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”
Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.
“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”
And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.
You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”
Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.
He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.
Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.
“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.
Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.
He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”
Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.
“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.
There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.
You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.
But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.
He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.
The blond raises his arms up in surrender.
“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.
“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.
Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”
You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.
Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.
A new beginning awaits.
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prettyfastcars · 3 months
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He has me by my heart | Mob!Lando x Reader
Summary: Lando is bad for you. You know that, countless people have told you this. But no matter how corrupted, dark, and wicked he was. No matter how possessive, jealous, and insane he could be, almost childishly so. Despite it all, he had you by your heart, and there was no getting away from him. 
Themes: mob!lando, daddy kink, smut, explicit language, possessive!lando, 
a/n: you know those videos of Lando being escorted by police in italy yeahhhh
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You saw it on the news. 
Then again, everyone did. Ever since he was arrested a few weeks ago, people tuned in any moment they could to follow his story. He was well-known, filthy rich, and dangerous. He went against the law a lot. But somehow there was never enough evidence against him that incriminated him. 
Lando had too many loyal servants who were willing to lay down their lives in order to keep him away from being locked up in prison. But a few weeks ago, a couple days after you both broke up after a huge fight, he was arrested. 
Apparently he got into a rather violent fight at some exclusive club. Videos of it circulated around everywhere. And it was the most convicting evidence that had ever surfaced regarding him so the authorities used that to at least lock him up for a little time while they tried to dig up more stuff about him. 
However, that ended up not happening. Lando’s people kept everything clean. Every dirty work happened in the dark with no witnesses. Every skeleton was carefully placed in impregnable closets. So the authorities had no choice but to release him. 
The day of his release, you watched him on TV. How he gloated as the authorities let him go. How he enjoyed the many cameras filming him, taking pictures of him which would later surely spark many conversations in the media. He had always liked the attention. 
Even through the screen you could see it on his face. The arrogance, the smirks, the determined, proud look in his eyes like he was an unchallengeable monarch. He walked to his car, grinning like a king. He was, in many ways. A king in the darker side of life. 
Just then, your phone rang. It was an unknown number. You answered it with your heart racing, part of you already knew who was calling. 
“Hello?” You tried your hardest to sound as unbothered as possible. 
He chuckled from the other side of the call. “Hey princess, missed me?” 
You exhaled shakily, “Lando.” 
He scoffed, “You sound a little out of breath there, baby. Have you been watching me on TV?” He laughed. “You knew they could never keep me locked up for long, didn’t you princess? We talked about this, remember?” 
Oh. So he was doing the thing where he pretended that you two hadn’t had a big fight, said cruel things to each other and decided to go your separate ways. Yet again. 
“Why are you calling me?” You said, “We broke up, remember?” 
He sighed like he was annoyed, “Come on, princess. You know that wasn’t real, right?” He argued. “We were both tired and angry, and we didn’t mean it.” He didn’t even wait for you to respond as he said, “I’m coming over later, and then we’ll talk. Alright, princess? I can’t wait to see you.” 
With that he ended the call. And you were standing there in the middle of your apartment feeling confused. As always. 
When he comes over later, you thought, you’d set everything straight and break up with him for good this time. 
— 
Hours passed. 
You realised you shouldn’t just sit and wait for him. But you were anxious so you couldn’t do anything else other than wait. 
Later in the evening, three knocks at your door signalled that he was here. You stood there for a short while, fresh out of the shower and still in your fluffy robe as you stared at the door. You decided you were going to keep this short. 
He’d walk in, you’d talk, and then you’d ask him to leave. Right? Right. 
But then you opened the door. And there he was, in a fresh suit. His hair was a fluffy, curly mess. He smelt amazing. And that soft, puppy dog look in his blue-green eyes. 
“Hi princess,” He said, already walking in and shutting the door behind him, “I’ve missed you.” 
Your walls came crashing down instantly. You had your arms around him before you even realised it. Your face pushed into the crook of his neck as you shed a few tears and inhaled his familiar scent. Body wash and cologne. 
“I was so scared I would never see you again.” You found yourself mumbling against his skin as he backed you into the closest wall. 
He laughed as you pulled away to wipe your tears, “Babygirl,” He cooed, “You know that would never happen.” He cupped your teary face in his large hands and smiled at you. “Were you worried for me? Hmm?” 
You nodded. He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you. Soft lips against yours, you melted into him. Your back against the wall, your fingers tangled in his hair while he moaned shamelessly into the kiss… playfully biting your lips. 
“I’ve missed you so much, princess.” His hands wandered, undoing the knot at the front of your robe. He let out a strained groan when he finally felt your warm skin. He whispered between messy, hungry kisses, “Daddy missed you so much.” 
He pulled away to look at you. You couldn’t help but notice the way his lips were now fuller. Fuck, he was your weakness. 
“Missed this mouth,” He whispered while tracing your lips with the tip of his finger. His mere touch was driving you insane. So much so that you dropped down to your knees even before he asked you to. 
Lando looked down at you with pride in his eyes and a devilishly handsome smirk on his face. “That’s my good girl,” He said breathlessly, caressing your cheek gently as he watched you undo his zipper and pull down his briefs. 
His cock stood proud and tall in front of you. Your mouth watered shamelessly at the sight of it. Thick and big, you realised you’d missed him just as much. Your hands instinctively wrapped around his length and you placed the tip against your lips, kissing it and feeling the pre cum coating your lips. 
Lando hissed in pleasure as you pushed him into your mouth, taking in the tip and swirling your tongue around him. 
“I missed your fucking mouth, babygirl…” 
He whispered your name under his breath, his hand holding your head and guiding you up and down his cock. His taste drove you crazy. As did the sounds which left his mouth.
You intended on making him come hard and fast. 
“Fuck…,” He moaned again, right before coming undone all over your tongue. “You did so good, princess.” 
You looked up at him, still kneeling on the cold floor. You’d missed this too. 
“Stand up,” He ordered. And when you did, he leaned in to kiss you again. Rougher this time, more demanding as he pulled you away from the wall and guided you over to your living room. He grabbed your face gently by the chin and said, “Can you go make daddy a drink, princess?” 
You nodded immediately. Lando smiled, kissing you briefly on the lips before smacking you gently on the butt as you walked over to the mini bar to make him a drink. You watched him the whole time you poured his whiskey in a glass. 
You watched how he got rid of his suit jacket, unbuttoned his white shirt and plopped down on the couch. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. He looked like he was at peace. So much so that you almost hesitated before you gently touched his face to get his attention. 
Lando smiled at you as he took the glass from you first, then pulled you onto his lap. Palms gently caressing his smooth chest, you admired your man. His beard seemed coarse you realised as you stroked his cheek. You wondered whether it would feel rougher in between your thighs. 
Judging by the smirk on his face, Lando thought of the same thing as he sipped on his drink. And his hooded eyes silently promised you ‘later’. His free hand rubbed up and down your exposed thigh, until he reached in between your legs. 
He shamelessly watched how his fingers softly rubbed your throbbing clit. You whimpered softly, grinding against his hand on his lap. 
“Who took care of you while I was away?” He asked. 
You knew what he meant. Jealous, territorial, over protective man that he was. 
“No one,” You answered, whining as he slid a finger inside you.
He swallowed all of the whiskey and leaned in to kiss you again. He kissed down your neck, and all while slowly fingerfucking you he whispered along your collar bones, “If I find out someone touched you while I was gone I’m gonna do terrible,” He licked and bit your skin mid-sentence, “horrible things to them.” He left marks on your skin, marking his territory. “And I’ll make you watch.” 
You couldn’t help the unexpected giggle that escaped your lips. “No one touched me,” You assured him. “I took care of myself.” You added. 
Lando pulled away from your skin smirking like the handsome devil he was. “Yeah?” He insisted, “Show me how.” 
You gave him a shy smile. 
“Come on,” He said. “Show me how you touched yourself while I was away.” 
So you gave him a little show. Still on his lap as you touched yourself, like you did almost every night when he was gone. Even when you were angry at him, nothing else got you off like the memories of the moments you both spent under the covers.
Lando leaned back for a minute, his hands lazily rubbing up and down your thighs while he carefully followed your finger as it dipped in and out of your wet hole. His eyebrows furrowed everytime you moaned or let out a wanton gasp. 
He grabbed your thighs tightly each time he had to hold back from shoving your hands away to touch you. His shameless stare urged you to keep going. Lando was almost just as breathless as you were when you brought yourself to the edge, slowing down and not wanting to come just yet. 
“Please…” You murmured, removing your hand away and looking into his dangerously pretty eyes. “Please,” You begged again
He looked up at you and smirked. He knew what you wanted. You wanted him to make you come. His smug grin widened before he taunted, “Aww what is it, princess? Your fingers don’t feel as good as daddy’s?” He cooed, “Hmm? You want daddy to make you come, don’t you?” 
You nodded quickly. Lando just smirked and shook his head. Then before you knew it, you were being pushed down onto the couch. You laid on your back while he hovered above you. You could feel the metal chain around his neck just barely brushing against your chest. 
“It’s okay, babygirl.” He whispered, his face inches above yours. “Daddy’s here now.” He said before leaning in to kiss your lips. His tongue gently stroking your lower lip, then his mouth trailed downwards, kissing your neck, your collar bones down to your breasts, licking and kissing and leaving behind his marks on your skin.
Your body felt hot. Burning under him as he took his time and kissed every inch of your skin. “Missed you,” he whispered as he pressed kisses down your chest. 
Within seconds his fingers found their way in between your legs again, carefully parting your wet folds before slipping inside you. 
He asked, “Do your fingers feel this good, princess?” Lando leaned in again, and kissed along your jaw while his fingers stroked you gently. “I bet they don’t.” 
You whined and squirmed and you wanted more. You threw your head back and whined loudly, you felt your walls clench around his fingers. 
He smirked, feeling it too. “Oh? You wanna cum, is that it?” he leaned in closer, whispering against your mouth, “You want it so bad, don’t you princess?” he teased, chuckling darkly.
You moaned, and whined and tried your hardest to keep quiet but you ended up being loud anyways. His touch, his stare, his words… “Look at you,” he whispered, kissing and biting down on your skin occasionally as his fingers took you higher. “So perfect for daddy.” 
He bit down on your neck as you squirmed, moaning shamelessly. 
“Come for me, babygirl.” 
You did. Welcoming the sweet pressure in between your legs and you came with a loud cry all over his fingers, coating them with your arousal and making him hiss and swear at the sight of you so beautifully dishevelled. 
He had missed this indeed. 
“You’re all mine,” Lando said. 
You were still recovering from your previous orgasm that you didn’t realise his mouth was on you again, the lower half of his face completely submerged in between your legs, which were on each of his shoulders as his tongue tasting you shamelessly, eagerly. 
“Fuck,” He moaned against your wetness. The sound of it making you shiver. 
His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance, occasionally flicking your sensitive clit mercilessly. Your hands immediately gripped his messy, curly hair and tugged gently at his roots. 
“You taste so good, princess.”
You whimpered under his touch, feeling his faintly rough stubble rubbing against your soft skin. It burned a little, but you enjoyed each and every second of it and craved for more. His mouth felt good. 
“Fuck… Lando,” You moaned out loud as your back arched off the couch for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you. 
“You’re gonna cum for me, is that it, hmm?” He whispered and got back to teasing your clit with his warm and wet tongue, relishing your taste.
“Please, please….” You murmured. He chuckled, his warm breath fanning your wet folds.
“Come on, ask nicely.” He whispered, biting down on your hip bone before kissing his way back to your clit.
“Please daddy,” You whined, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Please, can I come?” 
His smirk meant that he was satisfied. “Of course you can, princess.” He murmured. “Come all over daddy’s tongue.” 
Lando got back to eating you out like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. The pressure in between your legs was building up nicely. So with a few more strokes of his tongue, you let go and came all over his face. 
The waves of pleasure which washed over you were so intense that you teared up as you came, grinding your hips against his waiting mouth. And Lando lapped up whatever you gave him. He couldn’t get enough. 
When he finally pulled away to let you breath for a moment, he kissed your thighs, admiring the pretty mess that you were. 
“You’re so fucking beautiful, princess,” he whispered, looking down at you. “All mine.” He had that feral look in his eyes. Shameless, and raw. Passionate, and unrestrained. He wanted you and he wasn’t hiding it. “Get on your hands and knees.” He ordered. 
You did as he asked. You knelt on the couch, holding onto the back while he stood behind you surely admiring your ass as your back faced him. 
Lando trailed a finger lazily up your spine before sliding his fingers around your neck. He gripped your throat gently, and tightened his grip just enough so he got your full attention. His lips hovered over the side of your throat and his other hand reached around and toyed with your clit, his fingers making you tremble.
You could feel his erection pressing against your butt. And your heart raced in anticipation.
“Daddy missed this pussy, princess.” He whispered into your ear, his fingers teasing your clit until you were embarrassingly wet for him. “I know you missed daddy’s cock, didn’t you? Hmm?” 
You whined in response as his tongue licked along your neck. 
His hand gripped your throat, eliciting a loud moan out of you. “Answer me, babygirl.” He said. “Use your words and tell daddy you want his cock.” 
His fingers left your clit as he undid his trousers again, grabbed you by the hips and aligned his cock to your entrance. Pushing against it just enough to make you lose your mind but not enough. 
Damn him. He knew just what to do. How to play you to get you to do exactly what he wanted. You pushed back against him, desperately craving friction, as you whimpered, “Please daddy, I want your cock. Please…” 
He chuckled. “There’s my good girl.” He praised and gripped the sides of your hips tighter. He pushed into you with ease, earning a sinful moan out of you. 
Lando groaned as he filled you up entirely, your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he buried his cock into you. Your knuckles gripped the back of the couch tightly as you felt the familiar pressure forming again in no time, given you were already so sensitive and sore from before.
You were barely able to think straight. You’d missed him. You’d missed this way too much. Having him right now gave you a high you did not quite comprehend but you were grateful for it. 
“So fucking good… princess…” Lando spoke in a haze, and you barely heard him as the only thing you focused on was how good he felt, sliding in and out of you. His cock stretching you out each time he fit it snugly inside you. 
He felt it too. He relished the sounds your bodies made together. The careless moans he earned out of you, how wet and ready you were for him. How perfectly you clenched around his cock. Your soft, often loud, whimpers and his groans of pleasure. 
“I dreamt of this perfect, warm pussy the whole time I was locked up in there, you know that, princess?” Lando pounded into you like his life depended on it. Stretching you out and filling you up each time he rammed his cock into your entrance. 
You could feel the soreness his touch would leave behind, and you didn’t care. But fuck… his dirty mouth only made him hotter. 
“The only that kept me going was knowing that I’d come home to you and fuck you like this,” He whispered, and you felt his cock throb against your walls. You tightened around him, feeling your orgasm so close that you almost shed tears again. 
Lando kept mumbling in the throes of pleasure, “Like you were made for me, for this cock…” He trailed off, moaning in that boyish way that only made you want to come harder. “It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it, babygirl? Hmm?” 
Right there… you were tight on the edge, ready to let go…
But just as you were, he pulled out and flipped you around. You were on your back again, looking up at him. His roughness only turning you on even more. 
He smirked when he saw that look of uncontained desire on your face. “Not so easily, princess.” He chuckled. “Daddy spent all this time away from you. So it’s only fair that now you beg for my cock.” He parted your legs, and settled in between them again, his cock slipping inside you once again. “Beg for me.”
When he saw that you didn’t, his fingers wrapped around your throat once more. “I said,” he growled, “beg.”
Your lips parted as you gasped, giving in. You’d do anything for him you realised. 
 “Daddy please… please make me cum…” you whined, “I missed you so much, I need you-,” you cut yourself off, moaning wantonly as he began fucking you hard and fast again.
He grunted and moaned shamelessly right in your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace. He pounded into you incessantly. 
You stared into his eyes, tears escaping your eyes, lips swollen and bruised, neck littered with his bite marks, and your eyes just as wild and passionate as his. His messy hair, that dangerous way of his, his reckless nature, that annoying arrogance, his pride was his fatal flaw and yet… Oh fuck you loved him. 
Lando smirked, leaning in to whisper against your mouth, “Daddy loves you more, princess.” 
Well, guess you said it out loud then. 
“You belong to me, don’t you? Hmm?”
“Yes.” You gasped. “Please, daddy can I-” 
The pleasure was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came all around his cock, moaning and squirming. Your fingers scratching his neck, your arms holding him tight like he was your lifeline. He was, in more ways than one. 
Lando moaned out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you, filling you up again. “Fuck,” He groaned, his voice a little hoarser. “Fuck, princess.” He sighed, putting his whole body weight onto you for a moment. He nuzzled your neck and left soft kisses along your skin. 
You let him rest for a moment, mindlessly playing with his hair. You almost laughed thinking about how your initial plan was to kick him out of your life, forever. But deep down you knew, you could never get rid of Lando. 
No matter how corrupted, dark, and wicked he was. No matter how possessive, jealous, and insane he could be, almost childishly so. Despite it all, he had you by your heart, and there was no getting away from him.
2K notes · View notes
sapphosclosefriend · 7 months
Text
- I need you by my side -
Pairing: Royal! Natasha Romanoff x Princess! Fem! Reader
Genre: fluff, smut, tiny tiny bit of angst
Summary: you have known Natasha pretty much your whole life and you never thought you'd end up marrying her. On your first night officially together you learn to appreciate each other in more than one way (Medieval AU)
Word count: 7.5k
Warnings: top! Natasha, bottom! R, Nat has a penis, virgin! R, arranged marriage, very brief drinking, kissing, size difference, SMUT, oral (Nat receiving), balls sucking, cum eating, nipple stimulation (R receiving), fingering (R receiving), squirting, vaginal penetration, rough sex, cumming inside, a whole lot of fluff
A/N: this story contains smut so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Both sets of parents are shitty tbh, but I guess it's accurate to the time period? The aesthetic in my head was very much game of thrones for this one. This is so much longer than I intended!! As usual likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡
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It has been a long long day of making merry, a joyful celebration of honour and union for everybody, but also a dreadfully awaited day full of anger and resentment from your new spouse. You could feel it radiating off of her throughout the whole day, and the weeks prior for that matter, and the tiredness only makes her more frustrated as she walks next to you towards your now shared chambers. Her long legs and anger driven fast pace almost make it hard for you to keep up with her and for a moment the thought of telling her off crosses your mind, immediately followed by your father’s reprimanding voice, forcing you to calm down immediately. The moment the large wooden doors close behind you, the sight of the bed adorned with rich fabrics and clearly made to harbour two newly wed people makes you freeze as you can only move your eyes from to bed, to the other girl’s back on the balcony and back towards the bed. You both know what you’re expected to do and unfortunately sleeping the exhaustion away is not yet included.
In the meantime, Natasha’s blood boils even more now that all the tension she’s been holding back in favour of decency is coming back in the confinements of her, no, your private room. The thought of what she’s been forced to do only makes her feel that all too familiar anger that’s been eating her up for months now: she’s always known that she was eventually going to have to marry someone of a certain status and that the range of possible candidates was quite small, but she thought that the last word would be hers, it was promised to her! But the moment you became of age it was all clear, it was going to be you, it was always going to be you, there was never anybody else for her parents. All those times where they visited your family because of what they would say was a special friendship between them and your own parents, where she was always made to play with you, to sit next to you, to take you on walks, to talk to you, get to know you, it was all a lifelong plan to get to this very specific moment, you and her married. The fresh night air helps cool her temper as she turns around to lean against the cold stone of the balcony railing and looks at you, nervously pouring yourself a cup of deep red wine, only tasting a sip of it before repeatedly tapping the metal cup, lost in thought. She feels a lot of guilt whenever she thinks about you because, although she’s never been outwardly rude to you, it’s clear that you feel as part of her problem and that her reassurances don’t help ease your mind at all. The only people she’s deeply angry with are her parents, but seeing your sweet eyes, knowing how hopeful you’ve always been of finding a person to love for the rest of your life and that person forcibly being her, reminds her of how your lives have never truly been yours and how naive you’ve been for thinking otherwise at the empty words of reassurance coming from your parents. She knows she has to try at least, if not for her family, for you, for the respect she has for you, so she takes one last breath of fresh air to ease her nerves and walks back inside.
The smell of her favourite incense and the dim lights coming from all the candles give her a small sense of comfort as she slowly walks towards you, standing next to the table still with your wine in your hand, and pours herself her own cup, which she downs in one go.
“I was very happy to be able to catch up with Yelena, it had been a long time since I had last seen her”
At your words she looks down at you and can’t help but give you a little smile at your attempt at breaking the ice, knowing you’re not the most outgoing person
“She was very happy too, she couldn’t wait to see you”
She goes to sit on the bed as she talks, making your mind go back to that imminent moment. Seeing you nervously swallow the lump in your throat, she pats the spot next to her and intently looks at you as you set down your cup and walk towards her, taking a seat on the soft mattress: you can clearly feel the heat of her body with how close you are and secretly savour it as you both keep looking in front of you to avoid meeting your gazes. There’s a long pause where only your slightly shaky breathing and the distant sound of the celebration going on without you two can be heard, before her voice, strangely uncertain and almost a whisper, breaks the silence
“Have you ever done this before?”
You were kind of expecting it, but the question still makes your heart stop
“…kind of”
At your small voice she turns to look at you, confused by your answer
“What do you mean “kind of”?”
“I’ve done something, but not…all of it”
There’s almost guilt in your words and after reluctantly looking at her and meeting her expectant gaze, you go on
“There was someone who was always very…interested in me..”
You can feel her brain working hard and the realisation getting closer and closer until
“Wait, you don’t mean…”
You can barely give her a side look, feeling regret at your own actions from the past
“What?!”
“I know, I know!”
You really can’t look at her now, knowing her opinions on that certain Someone
“Not that asshole!”
“Yes, well, of course I didn’t listen to you and…I got used like a whore. But I’ve never been touched, if that’s what you wanted to know.”
She watches you looking down at your own fiddling hands with sympathy and sadness, knowing how genuine and even naive you can be with your selfless trust in people. Her hand on yours almost startles you and gives her the chance of taking your own in hers: you can see a small, healing cut on her knuckle and her rough palm, testimony of her constant sword training, is warm against yours, except for the two small, golden rings, which feel like ice against your own skin. The moment you take your eyes off your joined hands to look at her you find her eyes already on your face, making you look back down
“You have, right?”
“Yes, how do you know?”
You let out a small chuckle and start playing with one of her rings without even noticing, catching Natasha’s attention to the action
“You and that girl, it was quite clear, you know?”
Of course you noticed, you always did, you were almost too good at reading her considering that you didn’t see each other that often. That time, during one of her family’s visits, a girl with beautiful red hair was with her when she arrived and, although she was introduced to everybody as a normal lady in waiting, you immediately caught the glances and small touches between the two. Another moment of silence engulfs you two and you can’t keep your mind from spiraling at what’s going to happen soon. Not even Natasha’s ring is enough to keep you calm anymore, so you just let go of her hand and finally tell her what you’ve been wanting to say since you got alone. She’s still thinking about how much she surprisingly misses your hand in hers when your words startle her
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, I know you’ve never wanted any of this and I’m sorry that you were forced into it…I know that we have to do this, but you shouldn’t if you don’t want to”
Your words make her heart swell at how thoughtful you are to her, unlike her own family, before guilt takes over her once again
“I want to do this…with you. To be honest I’m happy that you’re the one I’m stuck with”
Her playful tone makes you giggle and look at her, getting caught off guard at the small traces of happiness on her face, finally getting free of that constant frown that you’ve consistently seen on her as of late. She finally looks back at you and once your eyes meet it seems like you’re really looking at each other for the first time in a while. She’s always been known to be one of the most beautiful people of the realm, so it was never that big of a shock to look in the eyes of what could easily be a goddess amongst mortals and be taken back by all that beauty and all the small details that make her so unique with nothing but adulation. You’ve never been scared of displaying your appreciation for anyone, so seeing your look of fondness towards her doesn’t surprise her at all.
On the other hand, Natasha finds herself truly entranced by you for the first time since you’ve known each other: she’s almost surprised to notice just how beautiful you are and how all those comments made by her friend, even if quite crude most of the time, were not the nonsense she made them to be.
“You do realise that anyone would pay to be in your place, right? You whine like a baby because you have to chat with her or something, it’s not like you have to marry her. And even if you did you’d get to have a go at it with her every night”
The familiar words make her grimace at the thought of such comments being made behind your back but the faint feeling of jealousy deep in her is enough to bring her mind back to you, sitting so close to her and looking up at her with such timid adoration that in that moment she can’t keep her eyes from finally moving down on their own towards your lips, looking so inviting she doesn’t even realise she’s slowly moving closer to you until the air you exhale melts together and your lips touch each other every time you breathe
“Natasha”
Your whisper ignites something inside of her and what could be considered almost curiosity makes her move just enough so that your lips are finally fully on hers in a small kiss that makes your heart beat so fast it feels like it’s trying to escape from your chest to get to Natasha. Oh Natasha, she’s the only thing that exists in that moment, just Natasha, nothing else. As soon as you part you barely have time to look into each other’s eyes and for her to admire your panting state before she’s cupping your face and leaning in once again, making you melt into the kiss while you try to turn your body towards her. You are thankful that you’re sitting on the bed, otherwise you’re sure your knees wouldn’t have been able to keep you upright. You still reach for her shoulder for support as your lips move against each other slowly, deepening the kiss more and more until you can feel her tongue on your lower lip, asking for permission and being granted it when you lightly suck it, making her moan lowly and break the kiss to catch her breath. You can’t help but admire her and reach for her hand, still under your jaw, to hold it in your own, making her open her eyes at the gentle action. In that moment, sitting on the edge of her bed so close to each other you’re almost in her lap, breathing hard from all the nervousness finally wearing off thanks to the act of newly found intimacy between you two, you truly feel the need for each other, not something necessarily carnal, but a deep need to have the only person who could really understand what you’re going through and who could support you through all of it by your side. You don’t know how much time you spend kissing, you just know that you can feel yourself grow more and more restless at her wandering hands caressing your arms with a touch so light goosebumps grow under her fingertips.
You have no idea of what has gotten into you, maybe it’s her intoxicating smell, or the way she’s now firmly holding your waist with one hand, or her frustrated sighing every time she catches her other hand searching through the seemingly never ending fabrics of your gown for a snippet of skin, or maybe it’s just all the stress you’ve been subjected to lately, but you are sure of one thing, you need to feel her, as much of her as possible.
In a spur of bravery you get on your knees on the mattress and do your best to straddle her lap without tripping over the layers of your dress, finally succeeding and finally being able to feel more of the heat coming off of her that you've been enjoying since you've sat next to one another ot the bed. Your faces are finally at the same height and for the first time you can see her enchanting emerald eyes even better. You move some small strands of hair that have fallen on her face to briefly take a better look at her, before your lips are connected once again and your hands are tangled in her hair. You can clearly feel Natasha's hands move over your back, repeatedly shifting down to the small of your back and stopping herself from going lower, making you whine as you take her hands and move them to your ass, getting a small groan out of her at your sudden boldness. She's finally able to reach your skin, after not so little effort of going through the fabrics of your skirt, when your lips leave hers to move down to her jaw and neck, leaving shy pecks hiding the deep hunger you suddenly feel for her. The gentle touch of your mouth on the sensitive skin of her neck and your small unconscious movements over her crotch start making it hard for her to hold back to let you go at your own pace. She loses control just for a second once you feel something poking your center and ground your hips over it with a little bit more will with a small muffled moan, and she moves her hands towards your front to try to reach for your breasts but fails to do so
"Damn dress"
The frustration of once again not being able to get to your skin almost makes her growl the words, getting your attention and making you stop yourself to look at her expectantly
"Sorry, it's just always in the way"
"Well…would you help me get out if it then?"
The clear contrast from your previous slightly daring demeanour and now your usual shy tone interests her and after a nod from her you get up from her lap and stand in front of her, still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you turning around and asking her to loosen up the laces of your fitting dress. The pads of her fingers briefly go over the skin of your back where the fabric ends as she reaches for it, making you not so subtly shiver at the anticipation you now feel, in clear contrast with the almost fearful nervousness that dominated you once you first got alone with her. Once she's done with her task you slide your arms out of the sleeves and are finally able to feel the fabric slide down your body and stop at your hips, catching some resistance at the tight fitting and exposing your torso to the cool night air coming from the balcony. Your hair put in an intricate updo gives her a clear view of the creamy skin of your back and makes Natasha feel even more anticipation once your hands move to your hips to push the dress past them to let it slide down your body, leaving it a heap of embroided fabric on the ground. You once again feel your heart beating out of your chest at your now fully naked body exposed to Natasha and you suddenly seem to be frozen in place, not able to turn around and fully face her. Her warm hand gently touching yours startles you but the following sound of her voice immediately puts you at ease a little
"Wait, let me do something"
You immediately miss her hand once it leaves yours and soon after you hear her getting up from the bed and moving a little to do something. After a little bit she gently puts her hand on your shoulder and rubs her thumb over your skin to hopefully help soothe your nerves before speaking in the most gentle tone you've ever heard from her
"Remember that you don't have to"
She's the first person to tell you that. Since your birthday all your life has been revolving around this marriage, everything you've been made to do has been in favour of this event, most of the things your parents have said to you lately were commands on what you needed to do in order to be a good and honouring daughter. She's the first one to tell you such a thing, she's the first one to give you a choice in a situation where you've never had one, she's the first one to see you as a person in this circumstance and not as trade goods. She understands you and she understands the way you feel because she's gone through the same. You're on the same level. You suddenly turn around to look at her and for a second you almost miss the way she's completely naked too, taking you by surprise at her bare body
"This way we can both see each other"
She once again talks with that gentle and caring tone that this time makes your heart swell a little just for her. Your loving gaze is lost in her entrancing eyes when her hand slowly takes yours and moves it higher and higher, leaving it on her chest and making you feel the faint beating of her heart, soothing you for a moment, also thanks to the tiny reassuring smile she gives you. You do the same to show her your willingness to put all of yourself in this with her and take her hand and put it on your own chest. You don't say a word but you understand each other surprisingly well, making you both for once relieved of such a marriage and the chance of being one another's companion instead of some stranger. It's true, in all the years of knowing each other you've never been extremely close but you've certainly never hated one other. Sure, sometimes Natasha may have been annoyed at having to spend time with you but it was mainly because she was once again forced to do something by her parents. In all honesty, being with you always ended up helping her get over her irritation. You once again catch yourself getting lost in thought while fidgeting with her golden necklace with her family's sigil on it, but clearly catch the warmth of her hand leaving your chest to lightly caress your cheek before gently pushing under your chin to lift your gaze to her
"I need you by my side"
Her whispered words are barely audible but sound crystal clear to you
"Always"
You know that, from now on, you're the only two people who can help the other, you need to be strong for each other.
Before you know it her hands hold you on each side of your face to kiss you once again, taking your breath away at the need you both feel for the other. Her hands soon move down to your back to pull you flush against her front, getting you the closest you've ever been and making you reach for her shoulders to hold onto. The feeling of her soft skin against yours seems to never be enough and you realize you're pushing her to get impossibly closer too late, only when her back hits the mattress and you almost land on top of her
"Sorry-"
She doesn't let you finish before she's pulling you in again to keep your mouth on hers and she's grabbing your ass for the first time once you fully straddle her hips, making you whimper at the intimate act. You're both breathless, you know it, and the last thing you want is to stop kissing, but you need to take a small break and, once you part, you take the chance to sit up and unmake your updo, letting your hair fall down your back, taking out as many of the golden pieces of jewellery in it as you can and letting the smaller braids here and there done not to waste any more time. You're aware of your position and you secretly savour the way Natasha grips your thighs at the feeling of your bare center on hers. Feeling slightly confident you lean down to give her one last kiss on the lips before moving downwards, leaving small pecks on her neck, collarbone and chest, and then leaving her lap to get to her abs and lower abdomen, looking up at her after noticing her breathing quickening a little bit and catching her slightly clouded eyes looking back you. Right before being able to kneel down she offers you one of the many pillows from the bed, preventing you from being in pain from kneeling on the hard stone floor and puts another one under her head to get a better view of you between her legs.
The anticipation takes over the nervousness you feel at the sight of her semi hard cock in front of you and before you can get too anxious you reach with your hand to wrap around it, slowly pumping it a couple times and immediately getting a small, low moan from Natasha. You're not sure you've ever heard anything hotter than that and the excitement from making her feel good makes you more and more eager to please her as best as you can, so you keep moving your hand up and down until she's fully hard and a small bead of precum has formed, looking too tempting not to taste and making you reach over to give a small lick to her tip. You moan from finally being able to taste at least a little bit of her and at the same time Natasha hisses at the feeling of your tongue on her making her twitch.
You don't think you can wait anymore after getting a glimpse of her, so you get comfortable and finally fully wrap your lips around her tip, gently sucking it for a bit, if not to get yourself used to it, then to hear her groans again and again. Her hand moving towards your head excites you more than you'd like to admit and you'd lie if you denied the small disappointment you feel when it gets to your hair just to keep it out of the way with a makeshift ponytail. You realize it, you want her, all of her and she needs to know, so to try and make her understand it, feeling too embarrassed to say it to her face, you take more and more of her, doing your best to relax your throat and not gag too much around her surprisingly girthy cock. Her pants turn into loud groans once you do your best to look up at her as you slowly take all of her down your throat in one go, stopping only when your nose hits her crotch and staying like that for a couple seconds before lifting yourself off of it and sucking a deep breath while a string of spit still connects your mouth to her tip. To give your throat a small break you keep pumping her with your hand while you move downwards to lick her balls a couple times before taking one at a time in your mouth and very gently sucking them, making her curse out loud and sending a shiver through your whole body at the sound.
After a little bit you go back to her cock to take it back in your mouth, moaning at her taste and making her grip your hair tighter at the vibrations of your voice on her. You know she's close and you know you want her to take her orgasm from you herself, so you reach for her hand and make it lay flat on top of your head, before giving it a small push, hopefully making her understand what you want. She does, oh she does. After letting out a breathy chuckle at your eagerness she looks at you go back to your ministrations and guides you through it, making you take more and more of her until she's pushing you all the way down her cock and your gagging and her groans are all that can be heard in the room. She's close, so close and you know it, so you open your eyes to look back at her and meet her gaze already on you, before you reach for her balls to lightly fondle them, making her reach her orgasm in a couple more thrusts and finally feeling her cum in your mouth. You gently keep sucking her tip through her high until she's fully done and takes her cock out of your mouth
"Show me"
You don't expect her words but feel excitement when you open your mouth to show her all her cum on your tongue, and she bites her lip at the view
"Good, go on"
Her voice, still panting, and her taste as you swallow all of her cum makes your center ache like never before, even more so when you open your now empty mouth to show her that you've done it and she smirks
"Very good, you've done so well for me"
Her praise makes you smile at her and you can't keep yourself from climbing on the bed to kiss her briefly before she moves to make you lie down with your head resting comfortably on the fluffy pillows while she positions herself between your legs. Your new position gives you the perfect opportunity to fully explore her body, feeling her defined muscles under her velvety skin with every brush of your hands over her shoulders, her arms, her abs, her back, her ass, her thighs. She looks even more godly now, looming over you with her large, sculpted frame, looking quite bigger than you, and essentially trapping you between her and the bed. You don't feel trapped though, you feel safe and free, as you lie under her, with the knowledge that she's not here to take something from you, but to have an exchange, that she's accepting what you have to offer with a deep respect for you and your relationship.
The small traces of boldness you felt when you were pleasuring her disappear, as doubt takes over your mind: will you do a good enough job? Will she like your body? Will the fact that you're new to some things make her lose her excitement?
She immediately senses your uncertainty and can almost see your racing thoughts behind your eyes, getting her a little worried
"Are you alright?"
"I just…I don't know what to do now"
You can't even meet her gaze as you almost whisper the words, her constant and extremely casual confidence making it hard for you to admit your helplessness
"Let me do it then, hm?"
She waits for you to look at her and nod back before giving you a sweet smile and laying her palm on your cheek, savouring the way you subtly snuggle into its warmth, making her heart swell at how small you look right now. She leans down and kisses you gently over and over until she feels your tense body relaxing little at a time under hers and, once she feels you slacken, she finally lets her hands wander, gently gliding them over your body as if to not only lull you further, but also to imprint its curves and feel into her own mind. It's only once your breathing quickens and you kiss her more hungrily that she lets herself tentatively reach closer and closer to your chest, cupping your breasts once your hands tighten on her biceps to pull her closer.
The breathy whimper you let out once she lightly swaps her thumbs over your nipples, breaking your kiss, makes her even more excited and curious to find out what other sweet noises she can get out of you, so she moves her lips over your neck, leaving kisses here and there to find your sweet spot and indulging herself into leaving visible marks over your skin, getting spurred even more by your nails slightly scratching over her back and the subtle rocking of your hips. Moving lower and lower she finally comes face to face with your chest and feels pride at the sight of your already panting state, getting even more determined to make you feel as much as she can, so she finally wraps her lips around your right nipple, making you moan out loud and grip her hair harder than you intended. If she's able to make you feel so euphoric even with the simplest of touches, you can't even imagine how you're going to keep yourself grounded later on.
Your body feels like it's on fire and every single snippet of your skin that comes in contact with hers makes you long for her more and more.
She spends quite some time paying attention to your chest, sucking your nipples and the skin around, certainly getting it bruised and sending even more shivers through your body at the thought of being marked by her.
You're so lost in the moment that you don't feel one of her hands leaving its place on your breast to move lower, startling you when it makes contact with your very inner thigh, still wet from you previously rubbing it with the other while on your knees. She sucks your nipple on last time before kissing you while propping one of your legs over her hip and slowly gliding the pads of her fingers up your thigh, getting closer and closer to their destination and making your anticipation grow like never before. The moment her fingers get right below your hip bone she parts from you and looks you dead in the eye, searching for any sign for her to stop and when you give her a small nod she finally lets herself touch you, gently running her fingers up and down your surprisingly soaked slit, making you gasp at the contact and sending a wave of arousal through both of you.
Soon enough, after getting used to the feeling of someone else's hands on the most private part of your body, you can't help yourself from slightly rolling your hips in search of something, anything more, so she finally moves her ministrations directly over your clit, rubbing it slowly in circular motions and making you moan more loudly than you expected. You get even more excited at the feeling of her cock twitching on your thigh every time you moan for her, so you take one hand out of her hair and move it down to grab and pump her, making her hiss at the feeling of your hand back on her, while she keeps touching your clit and occasionally lower, closer to your entrance. You immediately miss her once her fingers leave your center as she gets them closer to your mouth
"Taste yourself"
The rasp behind her voice almost makes you miss her actual words at how hot it sounds, but you're still barely able to make out their meaning, so you grab her hand and suck on her wet fingers, moaning at the taste of your own arousal on your tongue and the feeling of her fingers in your mouth. Once you've sucked them clean and gotten them wet, she takes them out of your mouth and moves them back to your clit, rubbing it one last time before gently probing at your entrance and slowly pushing a finger inside, looking for any sign of discomfort from you before adding another one at the sight of none. You can barely whine as you bite your lip to prevent yourself from moaning too loudly, feeling embarrassed at how your cunt tries to suck her fingers in by tightening around them over and over. Once she's knuckle deep inside of you, you let out a deep breath at the faint pulsing of your clit against the palm of her hand, and look at her with watery eyes at the pleasure you feel even from her fingers staying still inside of you, giving away your extreme arousal when you tighten around her from a small kiss on your lips
"Can I move?"
She whispers her words but you can clearly understand her and quickly nod with big pleading eyes
"Please!"
She can't help but groan at your enthusiasm and barely moves her fingers in and out of you, focusing more on massaging your front wall little by little, getting you used to the sensation and making herself even more frustrated each time she feels your walls spasm around her fingers instead of her cock. She's been extremely patient since you've first gotten on your knees for her and the need to take you and feel you has been eating her up more and more, but the last thing she wants is to make you feel pressured by her, the last person you should feel unsafe with, so she does her best to keep herself grounded and fully focuses on you.
She gradually keeps increasing the pressure of the pad of her fingers on the spongy spot inside of you she easily found, making you embarrassed by the lewd, wet noises that come from your center with each stroke of her fingers and only getting you out of your own head with a particularly hard thrust that gets you freely moaning and tightly gripping the sheets under you. The muscles of her arm get even more defined from the task at hand and her breathing starts shaking from your wet walls engulfing her digits so tightly and the look of ecstasy on your features as she essentially takes your breath away. You're so close, so close to finally cumming undone for her for the first time, so close to the sweetest release
"Natasha! I'm-"
You can barely call her name before your orgasm crushes over you like a tidal wave at full force and runs through your whole body. She can't keep herself from basically growling at just how tight your walls regularly spasm around her fingers and the sight of small droplets of clear liquid coming out of you with every thrust, wetting her wrist and creating a small patch on the sheets under you. It takes you a bit to get down from your orgasm and once it stops, you can't help but sob from how intense it was, slightly shaking from time to time from the aftershocks
"Are you alright? Was it too much?"
There's genuine worry in her voice and eyes and you feel the need to kiss her, hopefully freeing her of her concerns as well
"It was perfect, Natasha"
You barely get to mumble the words against her lips before you need to kiss her again and again until your heart doesn't feel like it's beating out of your chest anymore. She uses your moment of blissed distraction to take her fingers out of you, trying not to cause too much discomfort and breaks the kiss to suck her fingers clean, lowly moaning at your taste on her tongue for the first time.
The sight makes the desire you've been feeling, that's never truly left you yet, come back at full force, startling you at how easily she's able to cause such waves of arousal to run through you.
You can't wait anymore, you need to feel more of her inside of you so bad you might just cry if you can't have her immediately and, based on her hungry eyes and fully erect cock, she might be feeling just the same
"I need you inside of me Natasha"
If your mind wasn't clouded by such want you'd feel embarrassed by your own words and the extreme neediness in your voice, but you simply can't bring yourself to care about it right now and whine at the loss of her body's warmth once she leans back on her knees. You're at a loss for words once you give yourselves time to truly look at each other's naked bodies for the first time and not even the way she grabs your waist to gently slide you down the bed a little bit before putting a pillow under your ass is enough to get you distracted from the perfect sight in front of you. You're finally pulled out of your trance once she makes your thighs rest on top of hers and gets you to automatically wrap your legs behind her back, giving her easy access to your center. Her cock sitting heavy on top of your mound makes you just a little anxious at how big it looks near you, but, sensing your doubt, she immediately takes one of your hands and kisses its back as to hopefully soothe you
"We're going at your pace"
Her words do help you a little but you still feel incredibly nervous, so much so that it seems like you suddenly get aware of every single thing near or on you, the cold golden earrings near your jaw, the soft fabric against your back, the slightest breeze of cooler air over your arm-
"You don't have to…not tonight if you don't want"
Her words, accompanied with a soft rub over your knee finally get your mind back to the moment and remind you, once again, that you can trust her and she won't judge you for anything
"I want it! I want it…"
You reach for her thigh to lightly squeeze it as to further reassure her and, once she gives you a brief nod, you smile at her and very slightly move your hips back and forth to feel her cock slide over your clit, signaling to her that you're more than ready. Natasha feels anticipation like never before once she grabs her own cock and moves her hips back a little to line it up with your entrance, making you tighten around nothing at the lewd sight of her spitting on it to get it all wet before grabbing your hips and slowly pushing in the head.
Your mouth opens in shock at the surprisingly not painful yet still almost extreme stretch and your eyes are pulled away from the sight of your centers getting closer to each other the more she pushes inside, at the sound of her voice as she curses under her breath. Your walls feel even tighter than they did around her fingers and it's really hard for her to keep herself from taking you immediately, but of course your comfort is her first priority at the moment, so, once she's fully inside of you, she stops for a bit, waiting for you to feel comfortable enough for her to move. On the other hand, the pleasure she makes you feel already starts clouding your mind and at the feeling of her staying still, completely inside of you, you can't help but let your head fall back on the mattress and let out a loud whine before looking up at her with pleading eyes
"Please Natasha! I'm ready, I promise! Please!"
That's it, there's no going back now.
She squeezes your hips quite hard as she slowly pulls out to the tip, pushing back inside a bit more quickly and going like this over and over, making you moan a bit more each time, until she sets a steady pace, getting lost in the feeling of your walls wrapped around her. You barely realize it when you're suddenly moving one of your legs to prop it on her shoulder, making her reach different spots than before, sending shock waves through your body and making you squeeze her tighter. Intent on making you feel even better, she almost immediately takes your other leg from her hip and puts it over her other shoulder, ripping a loud moan out of you from the feeling of her cock now reaching your sweet spot more easily with each thrust. The sight of your hands going from gripping the bed sheets to playing with your own nipples makes her throb inside of you and, needing to go even deeper into you, even if impossible, she lets go of your hips and puts her hands on each side of your head, getting as much leverage as she can, while still keeping your legs against her shoulders, to set a new pace, slower but with much harder thrusts, essentially knocking your breath away at the force with which her hips meet yours
"You're so beautiful"
Unfortunately you can barely register her words and find it impossible to form a single word, but try to find her wrist next to your face to give it a squeeze and hopefully make her understand if not that you think the same, at least that you appreciate her telling you that.
You know that in a short time it'll be almost impossible for you to keep yourself from tumbling into another breathtaking orgasm and you try your best to tell her, even though you know she's probably already aware of it by the way your cunt keeps squeezing her more and more
"I'm! I'm going to-"
She was waiting for you to say it yourself and hearing your straining voice trying to get the words out gets her close as well and, before she knows it, she's leaning down on her forearms, basically trapping you under her and reaching impossibly deeper inside of you
"Fuck Natasha!"
You didn't think her thrusts could get any harder, but you were wrong, her rough movements and panting groans right next to your ear are too much for you and get you to an orgasm even harder than the one before in only a couple of seconds. She tries her best to keep herself from cumming to keep thrusting into you and help you through your high, but your desperate moans, your nails raking over her back and your cunt squeezing her impossibly tight make it impossible for her to keep her orgasm from crushing over her. Her clear groans, the feeling of her cum deep inside of you and her, already balls deep, trying in vain to thrust even more into you, send an almost painful pang of arousal deep in you, pulling the last bit of energy out of you and leaving you limp under her large body.
Once her breathing has gone back to somewhat normal she finally lifts herself from her spot and comes face to face with you and only then, after you slightly hiss at her movement, she remembers that she's still inside of you
"Sorry"
There's a light sheen of sweat over her whole body, her mane of hair is tousled and her eyebrows are furrowed as she leans back to slowly pull out, trying not to make you feel too much pain also by gently running her hand up and down your side, making your heart swell at the sweetness behind her action. For a brief moment she looks slightly entranced by the sight of her cum slowly sliding out of you but soon moves away to let herself fall on her back next to you quite ungracefully, making you chuckle at her very non-regal manner. A comfortable silence falls between you two as you savour this moment of serenity and only now you notice how some of the many candles have died out, making the room feel even cozier.
Your droopy eyelids keep closing on their own accord, as exhaustion slowly starts taking over the both of you, but, right before you can drift off completely, her hand reaches over to hold yours one last time and her tired voice breaks the serene silence
"I'm very happy you're the one by my side"
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.
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Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox
2K notes · View notes
withahappyrefrain · 2 months
Text
Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd
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Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.
Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.
Words: 4.8K
This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!
When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you. 
“God, I wish that were me.”
It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it. 
But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new. 
It also brought up many questions. 
Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you. 
Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face. 
All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp. 
Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four. 
Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner. 
The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated. 
“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”
“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.” 
“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”
“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”
“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”
Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them. 
At least that's what the other thought. 
It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up. 
“Been awhile?” 
And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought. 
“Try never.” 
It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt. 
“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest. 
“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?” 
You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied. 
You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation. 
“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you. 
Darn those long limbs. 
“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain. 
“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.” 
Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?” 
College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people. 
And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship. 
Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else? 
“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?” 
Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different. 
You rubbed your thighs together. 
“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?” 
Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee. 
Have his hands always been so big and veiny? 
Fuck, did you have a thing for hands? 
“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?” 
His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing. 
Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point? 
“You…like doing it?” 
The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.” 
It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work. 
He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual. 
“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.” 
“You don't have to wait.” 
The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking. 
But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear. 
You heard me. 
“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational. 
Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left. 
“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body. 
“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.” 
All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo. 
Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up. 
The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching. 
For what, you couldn't tell. 
After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. 
“Do you want it to be different?” 
What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?
“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back. 
He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”
He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.  
“I asked you second, Robby.”
Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe. 
“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained. 
It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special. 
He was never that way with the other girls he dated. 
“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter. 
But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching. 
Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut. 
“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said. 
Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were. 
“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his. 
It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild. 
When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt. 
“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.” 
Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to. 
It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable. 
“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations. 
“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips. 
“God, you have terrible taste in men.”
You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were. 
How could he do that so quickly? 
He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight. 
When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth. 
Thank god your parents were on vacation. 
His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off. 
Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch. 
“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you. 
“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet. 
But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier. 
“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.  
He laughed.  Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet. 
Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it. 
“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”
“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit. 
His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out. 
Good. 
You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible. 
God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled. 
And he had just gotten started. 
He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time. 
But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away. 
The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.
“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” 
“Robby.” 
To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century. 
Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving. 
A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch. 
Was he this thick elsewhere?
You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up. 
Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible. 
You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did. 
But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it. 
He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued.  Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard. 
Why did either of you wait this long? 
You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth. 
But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy. 
When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out. 
He really did enjoy it.
“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you. 
Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.
Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release. 
You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under. 
His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time. 
The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt. 
“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours. 
Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. 
“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his. 
Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.” 
How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid? 
Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick- 
Jesus Christ, he was huge. 
“Fuck, she was right.” 
Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?” 
“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once. 
Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?” 
“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform. 
“I….we can unpack this later-” 
You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?” 
Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick. 
Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful. 
“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock. 
Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek. 
“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.” 
Darlin. You were his darlin. 
He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears. 
Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy. 
Even he didn't know when he would return home. 
It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship. 
“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern. 
His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes. 
“I don't want you to go.” 
“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them. 
“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you. 
“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.” 
Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his. 
“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards. 
“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.” 
Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory. 
Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him. 
He was going to need it for the next few months. 
Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere. 
“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension. 
The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask. 
“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things. 
Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to. 
“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.
“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed. 
Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.” 
Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-” 
“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock. 
Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was. 
In hindsight, it was painfully obvious. 
His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars. 
You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls. 
It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him. 
“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.” 
Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. 
“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd. 
Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group. 
But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus. 
His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria. 
That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it. 
But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock. 
“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?” 
Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release. 
Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his. 
The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body. 
His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go. 
You’d be a damn fool to. 
The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob. 
After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?” 
Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.” 
You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?” 
He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?” 
“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter. 
“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?” 
The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple. 
The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts. 
“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?” 
Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.
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@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky
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ohtobeleah · 1 year
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M.U.R.P.H // Bradley Bradshaw
Summary: An undisclosed pregnancy that you and your husband try keeping a secret ends up being the reason you end up in hospital during a PTI session with the Dagger Squad.
Word Count: 6k
Warnings: Pregnancy. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Mild Angst.
Author Note: Happy Saturday! This is pretty self indulgent but I final finished this one-shot that’s been in my drafts forever.
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“Alright team.” Pete Mitchell, although overworked and severely underpaid for the crap he put up with–grinned ear to ear at his group of elite Naval Aviators who sat before him after debriefing this morning's training exercise. “As you know, this weekend is Memorial Day weekend and the Admirals have decided to get a jump start on the events.” 
“Are we getting a long weekend?” Fanboy beamed hopefully as he sat up a little straighter. “Please tell me we’re getting a long weekend—“ He hoped that if he asked with enough conviction in his voice the answer would be yes. However, he hadn’t noticed you standing at the back of the room. A protective hand over your barely visible baby bump. Waiting for the right moment to make your presence known. Bob had noticed though—he was already dreading what was to come. He hated Memorial Day. Not because he didn’t want to pay respects to those who had fallen, no. He’d honour the fallen every damn day if he had to. 
So long as he didn’t have to participate in Murph.
You’d been his PTI during his time in Lamoore. You were the first Bradshaw he’d met and before he later Met Bradley Bradshaw and put two and two together that the two of you were married–nothing had ever made more sense. 
Bob’s heart had sunk into his ass when he found out you were being transferred to North Island. You were somewhat of a hard task master when it came to gruelling training sessions and Memorial Day always gave you free rein to send anyone packing with their tail between their legs if they couldn’t keep up. 
You were, however, a solid friend. When you weren’t working, you were the life of the party. The brightest smile in the room and always the one who everyone gravitated towards. Much like Bradley, you two always seemed to get the party started. Whether it was playing great balls of fire and singing at the top of your lungs—or starting an important dart night that saw a permanent tally board hung up beside the much too loved dartboard. There had been a time or two where you’d challenged the strongest of the bunch to an arm wrestle—Bob was always the first to bow at your bark. Not one to challenge anything you said, hell he’d do just about anything you told him to do….
So long as he didn’t have to participate in Murph. 
Bob had never been one to believe in soulmates before he saw you and Bradley together, he’d never met two people more suited for each other. But neither of you needed to hear that from him–you’d already managed to figure that out on your own. 
“No, Fanboy—“ Maverick sighed as he gestured for you to make your way to the front of the class. “No you aren’t getting a long weekend, what you are getting though, is a killer workout with PTI Bradshaw.” You heard the mixed reviews your introduction received. You’d only just recently finished running annual fitness testing for those who needed to be re-evaluated. So the idea of yet another gruelling workout tossed their way wasn’t what some of the aviators had in mind for a head start on the weekend. 
Jake Seresin and Javy Machado however? Oh they were wrapped. They loved a challenge—they adored you and they certainly came over the challenges you loved to hand out. 
“Morning everyone.” You beamed as you handed Rooster, you beloved husband, who sat in the front row with a soft grin, a pile of papers. “Take one and pass them along please Lieutenant Bradshaw.” Your fingers lingered across Bradley’s for a few seconds as he smiled softly back at you with heart shaped eyes. He always thought you looked so different with your hair pulled back into a ridiculously tight bun. Your uniform made you look so different, nothing like what you looked like at the Hard Deck with your hair out and mum jeans on. Sitting beside him at the piano playing great balls of fire. A Margarita in your hand and his glasses over your beautiful eyes. Nothing like what you looked like tucked into his side, hair splayed every which way and silk pyjamas adorning your beautiful body. 
“Physical Training Instructors play a key role in developing and maintaining the health, fitness and well-being of our airmen. In the United States Navy, physical fitness is absolutely essential in maintaining good health and overall wellbeing.” Pete Mitchell had been required to say that little statement prior to any session he handed over to you. “Regardless of Rank, PTI “Agony” Bradshaw will be your superior for the next two hours—with that I hand you over.”
“Thanks Mav.” You chuckled, appreciating the way you were so respected by the veteran aviator. PTI’s didn’t always have the best wrap—so when Maverick commanded the attention of everyone in the room on your behalf it gave you a little more confidence each and every time. “Alright flyboys—“ You teased, turning your attention to Phoenix so you could address her too. “And Flygirl, today we’re doing MURPH—“ 
Your declaration was met with a choir of dismay and disapproval from at least half of the team that sat before you. Suddenly their shoulders were a little more slouched and their faces plastered with existential dread when they started reading over the workout plan you'd had Bradley pass back. No one liked doing MURPH, except maybe Jake Seresin.
“Ma’am, I think that sounds like a great idea—“ Hangman sent you one of his thousand watt grins as he played with the toothpick that sat between his teeth. “Don’t you think your wife here comes up with some banger ideas, Rooster?” Bradley did think you had some good ideas, he wasn't going to let you know that though–if he did he knew his workouts, his Personal Training sessions and his Fitness Testing would just increasingly get harder and harder. It had only been by the skin of his goddamn nose that you passed his last Multi-Stage Fitness Test. Bradley Bradshaw was a hunk and with that meant he himself was not the most aerodynamic of the bunch–Bob had passed with flying colours, although you did nearly force him to restart his push-ups again when you caught him cheating on range. 
“She told me what she had planned last night Hangman, I’m ready to go, brought my pre workout in my bag and everything—“ Rooster just sighed as he leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs as he brought his hands up to rest behind his head. “Piece of cake.” 
“I have never heard anyone say MURPH is a piece of cake.” Phoenix groaned. “Aggie, please–” 
“I don't make the rules, Lieutenant, I just enforce them.” You had gotten used to the love-hate relationship and animosity you received while you were in uniform, it was your job to make sure none of the navy’s finest aviators let their fitness fall to the wayside. “Now for those who don't know what MURPH is, i'll explain quickly then you can all take twenty to change, refuel, and meet me over in the gym.” As you pulled out the empty chair that sat vacant next to your husband, you used it as a footstool before propping yourself up on the desk. Clearing your throat before reading out the workout explanation on the sheet you'd distributed. 
“M.U.R.P.H is a hero WOD dedicated to Michael P. Murphy, the first service member to receive the Medal of Honor for service in Afghanistan, during a Memorial Day event on Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, May 24, 2015.” Although there were more people sitting before you who didn't like the idea of such a gruelling workout, they did respect the fallen. “Michael's favourite workout was dedicated to him after his passing and thus, will be your workout today.” You felt the stomachs of everyone, all but Jake And Javy who just sat a little straighter in their chairs, drop.
“Today you will complete a one mile run, 100 pull-ups, expected to be chest to bar, 200 push-ups, 300 bodyweight squats, and to finish up we’ll run another mile.” Bradley crept a hand around your calf, thumbing your uniform as he squinted his eyes and bit his bottom lip, hoping you wouldn't add anything else to the list…..He should have known better. But he couldn't hold a grudge against you–not when you were four months pregnant and glowing. You were hiding your pregnancy well, it wasn't that you didn't want your friends and family to know, it's just you wanted to revel in the experience with Bradley for a little while longer before telling everyone you were both expecting. “Usually the twenty pound weight vest would be optional, but boys and girls you are some of the Navy’s finest Aviators, so you will all complete this course while wearing a twenty pound vest, none-notable people.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*
In the locker room, Nomex Flight Suits had been discarded for workout gear. Standard issue work boots had been replaced by trainers, and any and all standards of professionalism had gone out the window. It was the one thing everyone actually did enjoy about having you as their PTI, you weren’t big on formality. As long as respect was there you couldn’t give a rats ass about if people swore at you or razzed you. It made the job just a little bit more enjoyable. 
The last thing anyone wanted to do while they were working out was keep a rigid and professional persona. 
“Man, sometimes I hate your wife.” Phoenix grumbled as the group walked out of the locker room with towels slung over their shoulders and copious amounts of pre-workout scooped into shakers. Bradley couldn't help but to laugh, he loved you so much, the wedding band wrapped around his ring finger was there to prove it. The tattoos of your name on his left ass cheek was also there to prove it. 
“I wouldn't let her hear you say that.” Bradley paused as he took a swig of his pre-workout before handing it to Jake who looked like he was pumping himself up for the fight of his life. “She’ll ‘accidentally’ forget to count your reps and make you start again.” 
“This is surely a form of torture–” Fanboy added as he trailed behind with Bob. 
“It's a hero WOD Fanboy–respect the dead.” Jake hissed, he was as keen as, the only one in the group who hadnt had a negative thing to say about your workout plan. “I don't know why you guys aren't more excited.”
“Unlike you Hangman, most of us aren't gluttons for punishment.” Payback teased as he came to sling an arm around Jake's shoulders. “Or degradation, considering the unholy things I've seen in your search history.” Jake and Bradley had grown closer in the past few years that saw them in North Island permanently, there had been more times than you could count where the two of them would stumble back to your humble abode, drunk out of their minds. There had even been a time or two where you'd caught them spooning on the couch when Rooster couldn't take the stairs in his drunken state. 
“None of which compare to what Bradsaw probably cops in the bedroom.” Jake was quick to turn the attention back on Rooster, sending him a smirk over his shoulder as he took a quick sip of the pre-workout they were sharing and handed it over. “Huh Rooster? Agony probably has you wrapped around her little finger.” It was no secret amongst the group that you were a power house PTI, you didn’t dish out any workout you couldn't do with your eyes closed, something that the Daggers really valued about you was your integrity. You were honest and kind and above all, you levelled with them. You weren't a hypocrite and you, as much as you hated your job some days, the constant pressure, the delayed onset muscle soreness, the gruelling workouts and the sweat, you led by example and practised what you preached. 
That didnt mean you and Bradley wouldn't reserve Friday nights for takeout and chocolate. 
“That she does.” Was all Bradley replied with, “Have you fucking seen her? She’d kick my ass any day of the week if I gave her any ounce of crap.” He was without a shadow of a doubt whipped, but Bradley had always been that way with you–ever since he met you at his first water survival training weekend, he was down bad. He’d been assigned to your little group that first Saturday and you sent his heart into the stratosphere the first time you smiled at him. He was still unsure if it had ever come back or if your unconditional love and admiration just kept it hovering in the ozone layer. 
“She looks like she's glowing.” Bob remarked as the group mixed with nervousness, existential dread and far too much ego radiating of one particular member made their way across the tarmac to the base gym you could be found in any given day of the week. It was your home away from home. Kitted out with state of the art equipment, a spacious and functional environment that was welcoming and motivating. “She's far too excited about this, oh my god.” 
Bradley knew you were glowing, but he also knew it wasn't because you were excited. He knew that it was because of the little one growing inside you, a mix of him and you. He kind of hoped it was a boy, but everyone always told him he’d make a good girl dad. Regardless–he just wanted to be a dad, his biggest achievement by far would be being a good dad.
“She really is.” Bradley beamed as he heard the unmistakable tune of AJR’s Burn The House Down blasting through your speakers, reading over the workout plan one final time as you sat on the sled track, legs sprawled as you hummed away in your own little word. Twirling the pen you held in your hand absentmindedly, Bradley’s voice brought you out of your concentration. Alerting you that the team was ready to be put through their paces. “We’re hear for your torture session, Agony, don’t hold back on Hangman though, he’s been gloating since, well–forever really.” Bradley teased as he offered you a gentle hand, helping you rise up from the felt sled track. You immediately felt a dizziness unparalleled to anything you'd ever experienced before. So much so you fought off the urge to succumb to the feeling of descent as you stumbled and stammered for a second. 
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Lieutenant.” You smiled, exhaling as you steadied your equilibrium. Bradley caught on immediately that you were feeling slightly uneasy, placing a soft hand against the small of your back as you cleared your throat and rolled up your sleeves a little. “Alright, So I’ve measured out half a mile along the airfield, so it's half a mile to and half a mile back– You can either run the tarmac or use the treadmill.” You explained to everybody standing around  listening in to what you had to say. 
“Can we break up the reps Y/n?” Payback asked as he shouldered Bob, forcing him to lose his footing slightly, stumbling for a second as he sent Payback look. “Or is it strictly 100, 200, 300?” 
“I don't care what you guys do so long as you get it done.” Your tone made Fanboy shiver, you could be a hard task master when you wanted to be. “Start warming up and we’ll get this show on the road.” Bradley was quick to sneak a peck on the cheek when the group started to disperse, all except for Hangman a little on edge about what was to come. 
“You feeling alright darlin?” He cooed, walking with you over to your desk where you’d left your water bottle. 
“Your baby is the size of a pear at the moment and she's already giving me a hard time.” Neither you nor Bradley wanted to know if you were having a boy or a girl, you wanted it to be a surprise, both having made lists that kept growing with names galore. “I'm just starting to feel really sluggish, which is hard to hide when I'm usually the energiser bunny on base.” 
“Dr. Richards did say you’d need to pull back a little the further along you get baby." It was hard to accept that you would eventually have to slow down, up until about two weeks ago you had been fine, apart from the morning sickness you had dealt with in the first trimester. Bradley respected your boundaries when you were both at work, knowing professionalism in the workplace was important to you, however–that didn't stop him from discreetly placing a gentle hand atop your stomach, finding the small baby bump hiding under your work uniform. The camo green fabric warping around your naval under his palm. “But that doesn't mean you're not any less capable, just means you’re growing our little boy which in my opinion, is pretty spectacular.” 
“Just means we’ll need to tell everyone sooner rather than later Roo.” You sighed, taking a sip of your water, not knowing that Phoenix had spotted the gentle touch of your husband's hand resting on your stomach for a brief moment. Her eyes wide in shock as her jaw slacked slightly. Phoenix though, the master of recovery, disguised her surprise when you turned around to round up the gang that were all in the process of warming up in some way shape or form. “Alright, we can stagger the start for those who aren't warm enough–” You side eyed Bradley as he scoffed at you, leaving your side to join his colleagues. “
“Let's go boys and girl, we’re doing Murph baby!” Jake hollered out, clapping his hands down on Javys shoulders, pumping each other up as you laughed, a smile creeping across your face. “Bradshaw! You gonna try keep up with the big boys?” 
“Think I might taxi with Bob.” Bradley replied, jogging on the spot before giving his lower back a little twist side to side. Bob just rolled his eyes, to the untrained eye he was the kind of guy who kept his shirt on during beach days, but he thoroughly enjoyed cardio. If Rooster's plan had been to taxi with him during the mile run he was in for a rude shock, but Bob knew he was gonna lose time in the pull-up department. “You ready to go man?” 
“As ready as I'll ever be for this kind of workout.” Bob groned. “If I say I twisted my ankle now, do I still have to participate?” The group all laughed at the near winge that left Bob's mouth, he really wasn't up for this today–but what you came back with made the gym explode with boisterous laughter. 
“If you dont be careful Lieutenant Floyd l’ll pack an extra pound into your weight vest.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
Phoenix saw her opportune moment to strike about half way through the first half mile. Bradley was starting to show a red hume across his face, a thin layer of sweat had started to form across his forehead and Phoenix knew that if he was focusing hard enough on keeping his pace steady with one foot in front of the other, she knew he was in no position to formulate a lie. 
“So–Bradshaw.” Phoenix started as she came up to jog beside Rooster. “How far along is she?” 
“How far along is who?” Bradley replied as he kept his head straight, focused on the marker up ahead that indicated the turn around point. Watching as Jake and Javy booked it around one another, racing ahead of the rest of the group who had all opted to taxi their way through this. 
“Agony, she's pregnant.” Phoenix spoke with such conviction that Bradley found it near impossible to try and formulate a lie that would cover up the truth of the matter. “I saw you put your hand on her stomach, and I know you wouldnt do that if she wasnt pregnant.” 
“She's feeling a little off today, little spud is kicking her around a little.” It was all the conformation Phoenix needed to let out a little squeal as she beamed at Rooster, smacking him in the shoulder. “Ow!” 
“Why would you keep this from us! Rooster! That's amazing, congratulations!” 
“We just wanted to enjoy it for a while, just us, we haven't even told her parents yet.” Bradley explained as he made it to the turnabout point with Phoenix, both keeping each other's pace. “She's four months, we don't wanna know the sex, but everything is going the way it should, doc said she’ll need to start pulling back soon though.” 
“Ah, so thats why she isn’t participating in the torture.” Phoenix had picked up on the fact you weren’t participating today, she thought it was odd that you weren't but wasn't about to question it. She was scared you'd match her attitude and give her an extra 100 push ups. “Mrs Bradshaw is knocked up.” 
“Yeah.” Bradley chuckled, he liked the sound of that. “I had to beg her not to last night when I saw the MURPH file sitting out on the dining table, got down on my knees and everything.” 
“You couldn't have just talked her out of the whole plan entirely?” Phoenix whined, starting to feel a little more puffed from talking as she jogged with Bradley. Starting to really feel herself warming up. 
“Oh trust me, I tried that too.” Bradley explained, laughing as he remembered how that conversation ended. “She seduced me just to get me to shut up.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
By the time Rooster and Phoenix got back to the hanger turned gym, Jake and Javy were already going ten reps for ten reps with their pull ups. Bob, Fanboy and Payback were just standing there, watching as they caught their breath and waited for Rooster and Phoenix to return. 
“Alright ladies, now that everyones back, there's no rest for the wicked.” You turned up the volume on the speaker you stood by before making your way over. “Lets hussle, clocks still ticking and the faster you get this done the less time you have to spend here with me.” 
Fanboy groaned as he turned to Bob, sharing a painful look of ‘I'm over this already.’ 
“How are you gonna break this up, Roo?” You cooed, coming to stand by your husband as you watched Payback and Phoenix get to work on the rig, everyone was working on their pull ups first. “If it was me i'd do ten at a time.” 
“I think I should be able to manage twenty-five at a time.” He smiled, mumbling under his breath in your ear as he leaned in to kiss your earlobe. “Phoenix knows you're pregnant by the way.” 
“What!?” You gasped. “How did she find out! You said we weren’t gonna tell anyone yet?” 
“Saw me touch your stomach before, figured it was a little sus.” Bradley cooed. “I'm sorry.” 
“No, no don't be, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” You accepted the reality, watching as your group worked through their reps, taking notice of Bob who was severely lacking in his rep range. “Floyd! Chin to bar!” 
“Yeah Bob, chin to bar.” Hangman added, laughing with that thousand watt grin he was known for. “Bradshaw! Stop trying to flirt your way out of this!” 
“That's my cue.” Bradley groaned, throwing his head back as he ran his hands through sweat covered locks. “Play nice please.” 
“Nope, hop to it Lieutenant–” You bit back, biting your bottom lip as you cautiously and ever so discreetly slapped Bradley on the arse, watching as you sauntered away with a little more pep in his step. 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
“I feel like my arms are gonna pop off!” Next was the push ups. Mickey groaned as he did his set of twenty as you came to kneel beside him. “You’re a vicious and cruel woman.” 
“Well I guess Agony is rather fitting, isn't it Fanboy?” you questioned through a soft laugh as you pressed a hand between his shoulder blades. “Retract your scaps, you're relying too much on your triceps, put the pressure through your chest and your longevity will increase.” 
“If i wasn't so mad i'd say thankyou.” He groaned, keeping on keeping on with his reps. As soon as he was done, Rooster started his, same as Payback. 
“Hmm, I'll take it.” You ruffled Mickey's hair, wiping the sweat you collected onto the thigh of your pants as you stood, feeling light headed as you rose too quickly. “Oh–” Your vision blurred momentarily as a slight ringing in your ears rang out, you tried to breathe through it, but you couldn't catch the feeling. 
“Hey Aggie, you okay?” It was Hangman who noticed that you were looking a little unsteady at first, but as soon as the words were leaving his mouth? You were going down. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as the dizziness from standing too quickly took over you entirely. “Oh shit!” It normally wouldn't have been an issue, but you'd been feeling a little unsteady all day. “Y/n–” Hangman was quick to move to break your fall, catching you in his arms before you could hit the ground. “Rooster! Get over here will ya?” Jake called out, Bradley hadnt seen you fall, he was too busy focusing on his push-ups. “It's Y/n.” 
“What's wrong?” Bradley asked as he stood, noticing you passed out in Jake's arms. “Oh my god, hey–” He cooed, tapping your cheek softly as he crouched beside you on the other side of Jake, the whole ordeal had grabbed the attention of all the aviators you had in your gym. “Hey, darling, you okay? Open your eyes for me baby.” 
You did, slowly, fluttering your eyelids with a soft groan as you tried to sit up, still feeling dizzy.
“Woah–easy there killer, what's going on? I've never seen you pass out like that before.” Although Jake was technically addressing you, Bradley held a palm to your forehead as he pressed his lips together, watching as you struggled to focus on what was going around you. 
“She’s pregnant–” The gym went completely silent at Bradley’s major announcement. “I gotta get her to the hospital in case there's something wrong.” 
“Bradley, I'm fine.” You tried to reason with your husband as he scooped you up and into his arms, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his neck before he stood. “I promise, I just felt a little light headed is all.” 
“Yeah, no I don't care, we’re getting you checked out.” There was a distinct shift in Bradley’s tone, before he was playful, enjoying the workout as much as he could but now? He was as serious as ever, nothing was more important to him than you, his family. 
“Bradley, I'm in the middle of instructing a class.” Again you tried to defend the unnecessary need to go get checked out. You really didn’t feel like it was that big of an issue. “I can’t just leave? Everyone needs—“ Before you could finish, Bradley was interrupting. 
“Guys? you good?” Bradley turned around, addressed the totally stunned and flabbergasted group who just looked at him like he’d just dropped a major bomb on them. That his wife was expecting, you were gonna be a mother, and he, Bradley Rooster Bradshaw, was gonna be a dad. “You know what you’re doing don't you?” 
“Uh, yeah–” Bob started. 
“We’re good.” Payback stammered.
“We’ll be fine, just go make sure everything’s okay.” Phoenix added. 
“What do you mean Y/n’s pregnant!?” Hangman asked, standing there with wide eyes and a confused expression. Bradley didn’t respond, he simply turned on his heels and continued on his way, carrying you over to the admin building on base to get you checked out. 
“Do I need to have the sex education talk with you Seresin?” Phoenix teased. “Did your parents never give you the birds and the bees talk?” Jake just sent her a look. 
“You fucking knew didnt you?” He called Phoenix on her cool calm and collected manor. Something was up. 
“Only for like twenty more minutes than you.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
“Take a picture, it’ll last long.” You pouted from your position on the hospital bed, hooked up to a heart rate monitor. Bradley sat beside you, hand in yours as he just stared at you. Trying to get a read on how you were actually feeling because he knew you weren’t telling him the truth. 
“Woah, that was incredibly rude, Mrs Bradshaw.” Bradley teased as he let go of your hand, leaning back in the chair he sat perched in. stretching his arms up over his head, enough so that the bottom of his shirt pulled up, exposing his lower abdomen for a second. An incredible sight. “I'm just doing what any good husband would do, you know, making sure your health is in top priority.” 
“I'm A Personal Training Instructor for the United States Navy.” You reminded your husband, deadpanning him as you swirled your palm across your stomach. Stupid hospital gown covering your small bump. “Uncle Sam pays me to make sure you keep your health in tip top shape, it's not the other way around.” Bradley sent you a childish lok as his snickered back at you as you stuck your tongue out at him. “Listen, I’m fine, I'm just not used to my equilibrium being so off, I got up too quick and lost my balance, I'm fine.” 
“Why don't we let the doctor be the judge of that?” Bradley sighed, leaning forward as he rose from his seat to kiss your cheek. You just accepted the loving gesture as he cupped your cheeks, swiping the pad of his thumb across your cheek. “I just worry about you, because I love you and if anything ever happened to you I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for not doing enough when I could have.” 
“Good thing I love you more huh?” You cooed, watching as Bradley sat back down as Doctor Richard’s entered the room. 
“That my dear, is not possible.” Rooster just managed to get his reply in before Doctor Richards smiled. 
“Well the good thing is there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with bubs from the ultrasound.” She explained as she read through your chart. “But it seems as though you’re experiencing some bouts of low blood pressure Mrs Bradshaw.” 
“Low blood pressure?” Bradley questioned. “That can just happen? Y/n doesn’t have low blood pressure?” He was right, you didn’t, but you seemed to have it now. 
“I can assure you Mr. Bradshaw it’s a very common occurrence during the first twenty four weeks of pregnancy, I wouldn’t be too alarmed as long as you manage it.” Doctor Richards addressed you as you sat up a little straighter in your bed. 
“How would you like me to do that Doc?” You asked with a sigh, it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being pregnant. You did and you were so excited for your little one to arrive. What was annoying though was the fact you had been told to slow down, take things easy, enjoy the time you had with your baby. You were naturally a physically active person. Slowing down just wasn’t in your DNA. 
“Take it easy. Try to slow down a little? I understand you’re a PTI? Perhaps avoiding strenuous activity for the time being will help.” Doctor Richards explained. “Try to avoid making sudden movements, like standing up too quickly. It shouldn’t be a long term thing but for now? Monitor your systems, drink plenty of water to stay hydrated to increase your blood volume.” 
“Aye aye captain.” You groaned, saluting Dr. Richards as you slumped a little. Rooster caught onto your bad mood instantly, deciding to take over the conversation for you. 
“We’ll do our best Doc, thanks for checking up on her.” 
“Anytime—I’ll have your charts done up and send a discharge notice to the ladies at Reception.” She explained before leaving the room, giving you and Bradley a moment alone. He was silent as you walked Ike’s at him. Expecting him to say he told you so. 
“You feelings alright?” He asked softly. 
“I’m fine—just need a moment to truly process that my career is over.” You groaned, lying back as you faught of tears, it was the hormones, but not really. You just knew this day was coming. 
“What are you talking about?” Bradley asked, concern lacing his tone of voice as he sat as close to you as he possibly could. “Darlin—?” 
“If I can’t train, I can’t tell others to train. I can’t be a hypocrite.” You explained as tears fell down your cheeks. “I’ll go on maternity leave and lose my strength, my endurance, my body is already changing and I can only imagine what it’ll be like after having this beautiful baby.” You were well aware how crazy you sounded but it’s how you felt. “Bradley, I hope you don’t take this as me not loving every single moment of this because I am—“ You sobbed as Braldey held your hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m just scared of how becoming a mother is gonna affect the career I worked so hard to build.” 
“I understand baby.” Bradley tried his best to console you, he wasn’t going to tell you that none of what you were worried about was going to happen. He knew that there was a possibility it could. It had happened to other women before you and it would certainly happen after. “But if anyone can manage being a wonderful, caring mother and a fierce, incredibly talented career woman it’s you.”
“You think so?” You couldn’t help but to scoff lightly through your tears as you turned your head to look at your husband, so thankful for his every strong presence and support. 
“Honey I know so, we’ll do whatever it takes to get you right back to where you were before this little one came along.” He smiled, helping you sit up. “But let’s focus on you now? Alright, keep that blood pressure from dropping, keep you healthy and happy mama.” 
“Oh god!” You remembered the fact Bradley had mentioned to every single Dagger that you were pregnant. “Oh my god Roo, they’re gonna tackle us!” You leaned forward into your husband's chest as he laughed and kissed the top of your head. “I guess we better get back and get it over with huh?” 
“Yeah, better to rip the Band-Aid off fast than to drag it out.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
By the time you got back to base, the entire Dagger Squad was waiting back in the rec room. When you and Bradley entered cautiously, they all stood up as if they were expecting life altering news. 
“Is everything alright?” Bob asked, you never thought his eyes could get any bigger—but as he looked at you with hope filled eyes, you knew you’d been wrong. 
“Everything’s fine.” You smiled, wrapping your arm around Rooster's torso. Pulling him close as he sighed and filled in the gaps. 
“Mum and Bub are doing well, just got a little low blood pressure to manage but other than that? Everything else seems to be just fine.” Everyone went quiet, all silently thanking the heavens above and those in it that nothing major had occurred. Until Fanboy said what everyone was thinking—
“Can we go back to the part where you’re pregnant and didn’t tell any of us?” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**
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ferrstappen · 11 months
Text
aren't we supposed to surprise you? l Charles Leclerc blurb
pairing: dad!Charles Leclerc x female reader.
you can find more of my version of dad Charles' here <3
summary: you somehow manage to overshadow Charles and Jo's gift.
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Charles was an anxious man. Even more so since Josephine was born two years ago.
Yes, people laughed at him but he didn't care, he was going to sprint towards his daughter every time she took a wrong step and fell down, or his system would shut down whenever her lower lip trembled. Charles could communicate with his daughter through her eyes, they told him everything he needed to know in the meantime before she learned how to properly express herself.
They were an unstoppable duo, everybody knew that, but Charles was aware the reason both him and Jo could feel at ease and safe was you, and maybe he didn't remind you enough of that.
His mother and younger brother accompanied him to the various shops around Monaco, Pascale having to fight Charles to let her carry the stroll on the street, Arthur shaking his head at Charles' antics, playfully pitying his niece.
"I am going to make sure to take her to the worst tattoo parlors and pubs when she's older and then I'm showing you the images so you can die of a heart attack," Arthur teased his brother, earning a glare from Charles while being chastised by his mother, but the youngest Leclerc saw a smile on his mom's face.
Arthur winked at his niece and she giggled. Lorenzo had no chance of ever being the favorite uncle.
They entered different shops, not wanting to go for the typical jewelry and overly expensive designer clothing and accessories. No, Charles wanted to give you something you'd truly appreciate, something for you to relax and show yourself some love and distraction. Now it was turn for Arthur to carry Josephine while teasing his brother for being a simp.
A couple of books he thought you'd enjoy, different colored bath bombs, luxurious soaps and candles were some of the goods you were going to receive for Mother's Day.
Dad and baby Leclerc arrived got home greeted by the smell of coffee and some kind of pastry. It smelled like Charles' dream life; his life.
You smiled at Charles and gave him a quick peck on the lips before taking Josephine from his arms, your daughter babbling about papa and maman.
It was past midnight, Josephine sound asleep on her room after both you and Charles read her a short book in Italian, trying to accustom her to the language, all while you marveled at how Charles did the different voices and intonations.
Now it was just you and him in bed, his naked chest against your own skin, while his familiar hand found its place on your thigh, drawing shapeless figures, enjoying the peace of having you with him.
"I have to tell you something," You made sure to not make eye contact with Charles, hiding your face against his neck.
Charles chuckled with your reaction, "What is it and why are you hiding, bebé?" He tried to get you to face him.
"I know this wasn't planned or anything," you began talking but know Charles felt tears on his chest, it got him worried and helped you sit on the bed while assuring you whatever it was, you'd be able to find a solution.
"Babe, I'm two months pregnant," you announced and Charles placed his hand on his mouth in astonishment.
"No, in Bahrein?" Charles blurted out and a smile appeared on your face, of course that would be his first reaction as his brain processed the news.
You didn't know what you were expecting, maybe it was a problem because Josephine was still too young, maybe Charles didn't want another baby, you never really discussed it after Jo was born, but even in the dark his glossy green eyes were shining as his hand found its known place on your neck, his thumb softly caressing your cheek before lovingly kissing you.
those one of a kind kisses, the ones that were special and held so many emotions. neither of you could hide the smile appearing, only smiling at each other, Charles still caressing your cheek.
but suddenly he dropped his hand to your thigh, an unreadable expression on his face.
"But it's mother day and you're surprising me? No, I have this whole thing planned!" Charles protested and this made your eyes tear up, now it was your time to find his lips.
God, maybe it was time for a boy to mimic his dad.
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erospandemos · 1 month
Text
Some things never change
NewJeans Danielle x Reader
Where Danielle tries everything in her power to make you understand her feelings
Beta-reader: @leafostuff
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You had known Danielle Marsh all your life, from when she was just a little kid to now that she's a fully grown adult, although her height kind of stopped halfway. You met her in the first days of elementary school. She must have looked weak to the other kids with her two missing teeth, thin legs, and pale complex, so a group of rascals started messing with her.
They would call her all sorts of names with their limited word knowledge, mocking her with gestures and weird sounds. They'd also push her around or make her trip and fall. Even though their mind was still limited, they already had a knack for bullying.
You happened to be around her when you witnessed one of those scenes. All it took was a slap and a threat and the kids fled away. It was just a normal thing for you, as fights were very common at that age but for Danielle, you were her saviour.
"Are you okay?" you asked her worryingly.
Amidst her sniffling, Danielle managed to reply, "Those bullies were teasing me. But you made them go away, so thank you."
You felt a bit bad about her. Her eyes were so red from crying and she kept rubbing her eyelids to dry those endless tears. "Don't worry Danielle. They will never tease you again. I'll always be here for you," you reassured her, not knowing what kind of promise you were making.
What followed were days, weeks, and months of annoyance. Danielle followed you everywhere you went, pestering you from the morning to the afternoon—always talking, always joking, always asking.
"Thank you for helping me!" she told you. "Jinyoung hasn't been mean to me anymore! I love you!"
You were annoyed. You let her talk and kept walking, "He was just being an ass. It's nothing special."
She began to be your shadow, a silent companion seeking solace. A girl looking for a friend, or at least that is what you and she thought. There was already something present in her heart but you just didn't know it yet. But kids learned quickly.
It was a random day in April when she made her first move.
"My parents taught me that I should hug the ones I love. Can I hug you?" Danielle asked you, her eyes earnest and pleading.
You were caught off guard but still nodded hesitantly. You opened your arms and she stopped closer, embracing you tightly. She found comfort in your warmth and kept you there close to her. You didn't know why she did that but you liked it too.
Then a couple of months later, you were invited to her house. You and her parents got to know each other and figured it would be a good occasion for you two to bond together. At her house, there was a very nice illustrated book for children. The kind to have small but enormous sentences. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement when she brought it out from her desk to show it to you.
"It's a story about a prince who married the princess he saved. Don't you think that it's so... cool?" She said, her eyes wondering between dreams and fantasies.
"Yeah, I guess," you replied. You didn't fully grasp the implication of the tale. You just liked the drawings.
"You saved me from the bullies, just like the prince. Maybe... maybe we could get married someday?" Danielle confessed, blushing.
You chuckled nervously, still oblivious and clueless.
Things also got more complicated when she caught you talking with a girl from your class.
"Who's she?" Danielle asked, laced with jealousy.
"Oh, this is my friend from the class, Seo-yeon," you introduced her, unaware of her stern demeanor.
"Well, she better not try to steal you away from me!" she declared, pouting and crossing her arms.
You laughed nervously again, not understanding what she was trying to say, and apologized the poor Seo-yeon who was receiving the possessive gave from Danielle.
That was more than ten years ago. But now that you were both grown up, things didn't change at all.
You're reading the book you've been saving up for weeks, finally free from the exam season of college. It's been a relaxing day, as it's been the first full break you could take and you decided to just replenish your energy by doing nothing all day. The day was good outside but you didn't feel like going out at all.
But you did not know that the outside would visit you instead.
A too-familiar figure barged into your room, with a familiar voice and force. "Hey! Your mom said I could come in. Hope you don't mind," Danielle exclaims.
You look up, surprised. You have to bid goodbye to your book because there was no way she would've left the house now.
"Uh, hey. No, not at all," you say, recollecting yourself. Looking around, you could see the mess the room was left in but after all the times your friend had seen, it wasn't much of a problem. You just left it as it was.
Danielle approaches, her grin widening as she eyes the book in your hands. She lowers her head and reads your title, not because she is interested, but because it could be a potential reason to tease you.
"What fascinating world are you escaping to today?" Danielle asks you.
Before you can respond, Danielle snatches the book away, dramatically flipping through the pages, not a word passing through her eyes.
"It's a great book, you know," you say before she can judge you. But that wasn't her intention. Danielle tosses the book aside and, with a sly grin, moves closer to you.
"Boys, your age don't really stay in their house all day, shouldn't you go outside?"
You raise your eyebrow. "What are you trying to say?
She clears her throat, "Well, you know, all boys go around picking girls, shouldn't you be interested in girls too? Especially me..."
"Books are interesting enough," you say, annoyed.
Danielle sighs heavily and slaps your shoulder. "You really don't get it do you...? Whatever," she says, "But do you know what's even more interesting than books?"
Without waiting for an answer, Danielle wraps her arm around you, pulling him into an unexpected side hug. You, visibly annoyed and embarrassed, squirm from the surprise and try to claw out of her grasp. But it just gets tighter. "Danielle, seriously, what are you doing?" you stutter.
Danielle chuckles, enjoying your annoyed remarks, and lets her other arm get you too.
"Just playing with you."
You try to pull away, but Danielle persists.
"Can we not do this right now?" you say. Danielle rolls her eyes and sighs before releasing you.
"Oh, come on. Just having a bit of fun," she says, pouting.
She playfully pokes your cheek and laughs.
"This is ridiculous."
Danielle seizes the opportunity and leans closer, circling your thighs. "You know, a little embarrassment never hurt anyone," she says and eyes you up and down, locking her eyes with yours. "Besides, you're kinda cute when you're flustered."
You groan, covering your face with your hands. "Why are you doing this???"
She laughs, finally satisfied, and lets herself fall on the couch. "You know," she speaks truthfully, "there's something about you that's just too irresistible."
"Yeah, you aren't the only one."
Suddenly, you feel Danielle's intense gaze on you. "Who else is teasing you? Girls?"
"Sometimes?"
"Oh, that's not good. They have to know you're taken."
You raise an eyebrow. You don't sense anything good coming. "What are you talking about now?"
"I was thinking, maybe I should leave my scent on you. You know, like marking my territory. That way, other girls will know you're taken."
You blink repeatedly, utterly bewildered.
"Leave your scent? Danielle, we're not animals."
Danielle chuckles.
"Just imagine it – you walk into a room, and everyone's like, –Oh, they smell like Danielle. They're off the market!–"
"You've been watching too many nature documentaries."
"Shut up and come here."
Danielle snuggles closer, her energy warming the room and your body. You feel her arms quickly wrapping around your body and her legs tangling into yours and before you knew it, she was already spooning you. After all these years of doing so, she has gotten quite good at it. "You know, you really should loosen up. It's just a cuddle between old friends."
You shift uncomfortably, a bit against her although her lively insistence was stronger than your will. "Danielle, seriously, we're not kids anymore. We can't just... cuddle like this."
She tilts her head, studying you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Come on! Don't be such a grown-up. We used to do this all the time when we were kids. It's nostalgic!"
You sigh, giving in a bit. "Yeah, but things are different now."
Danielle was a slim girl, petite. She felt small although you were the one under her grasp, and her limbs were delicate and fragile. She felt small but soft as well. She was an adult now, and her touch made your heart beat faster, in a way it never did.
Danielle grins, unphased. "Different doesn't have to mean worse."
"But seriously," Danielle says with curiosity, "you used to be the one initiating these cuddle sessions. What happened to that fearless little kid?"
You blush, a rare occurrence for the reserved you. "Well, things change. People change."
Danielle's eyes soften, and she nudges you gently. You can smell her perfume and it calms you. "Change isn't always bad, you know."
You can't help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. Danielle, her head still nestled against your shoulder, can't resist the opportunity to tease you. "You know, I always thought you were the bravest little knight in our little adventures when we were young."
You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "A knight, huh? I'm not sure I see the resemblance."
Danielle chuckles, tracing imaginary patterns on your arm. A soft red starts to appear on your cheek. "Oh, please! You were my protector, always ready to face imaginary dragons and monsters. What happened to that fearless warrior?"
"Well, maybe I outgrew the knight phase."
Danielle leans back, looking at you with a sly grin. "Outgrew, or maybe you're just afraid to admit that deep down, you still have a bit of that brave knight in you."
You roll your eyes, but a small smile lingers on your face.
"Did you remember when I told you I'd be your princess? I still mean it you know?" she says, as if it was nothing.
You realize the meaning of her words and can't fathom any response, and Danielle can't help but enjoy the gentle blush that colors your cheeks. She teases you further, "You're blushing, Mr. Grown-up. Who would've thought the mighty knight would be so easily flustered?"
You mumble something incoherent, avoiding her gaze.
That was typical of you and your friend: constant teasing and joking. But you knew you wanted something more from her and you were just running around, trying to avoid it. One day, however, it finally came to you, knocking at your door, and you had to face it head-on.
You hear a loud frantic knocking on your door. The sudden noise surprises you and you get slowly, weary of who might be on the other end. The knocking doesn't stop and you look into the peephole. To your surprise, it wasn't a killer coming for you but it was your friend, Danielle, and from the looks of it, with her disheveled hair and tired eyes, she wasn't looking so good. You open the door and she bursts inside your apartment, drenched from head to toe, dripping water everywhere.
"Whoa, Danielle! What happened to you?" you exclaim.
She shakes herself like a wet dog, sending droplets flying, and brushes her wet strands away from her forehead to look at you in the eyes. "Caught in a sudden downpour. I practically swam here!"
You chuckle and walk to the bathroom. "Don't move!" you tell her as you go grab some towels. You don't want her wetting the whole house as well. "Well, you certainly look like you went for a swim."
Danielle takes the towel, but instead of immediately drying off, she shoots you a mischievous grin. "You look quite excited about seeing me, don't you?"
You raise an eyebrow and look at her, confused. "What do you mean?"
Danielle pretends to inspect her soaked clothes with exaggerated concern, scanning her shirt, and her skirt. She opens her arms and invites you to look at her clothes. "Oh, no. I think these clothes might be see-through now. But I'm sure you already noticed. I can feel you glued on me."
You immediately understand what she's trying to say. You roll your eyes and grow. "Danielle, come on. Don't be ridiculous."
She smirks, wringing out her hair over the towel. "Ridiculous? Or am I just giving you a little peek? You know it's fine. I didn't tell you not to look."
You blush, trying to play it cool. "You're impossible. I'm lucky it's just the two of us. Otherwise, I might get in trouble." You hate to agree with Danielle, but it was impossible for you not to notice her figure, perfectly feminine, perfectly grown, and perfectly beautiful. You gulp loudly and stare at the wall.
Danielle giggles, sauntering over to me with a playful twirl of her wet hair. "Well, I can't let you miss out on the view, can I?" She laughs again as you shoot a quick sideeye at her. "Oh, did I catch you looking again?"
"Come on! No, I didn't."
Danielle comes closer, she's having fun, too much fun. She sways her hips, brushing your chest, leaving wet handprints on your shirt and looks at you with such a teasing smile that you couldn't do anything but blush and back intot he wall. "Oh, don't look away, baby."
"Danielle, cut it out," you stammer, my cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.
She leans in, her voice dropping to a sultrier tone. "What's the matter? Don't tell me you're not enjoying this."
You try to look away, but Danielle continues to playfully tease you. Then she laughs, finally satisfied.
"Okay, okay, I'm just messing with you!" she confesses, wiping away a tear of laughter. "I couldn't resist seeing you squirm."
You sigh in relief, but your embarrassment lingers. "You're unbelievable, Danielle."
She giggles while running away.
You go to your room to pick up some clothes for her, unfortunately you got nothing else to give her but your own clothes. You try the smallest size possible, so at least she wouldn't have to swim in them. You smell them first, to make sure, she won't be annoyed by an unwanted smell, then think if she'd feel cold or not—the house was quite warm on the inside. You knew she always liked to wear shorts, so you get a pair and a shirt and sweater to match.
You hand her the clothes, "Here, these should be more comfortable than wet clothes."
Danielle, takes them and smiles brightly. "Oh, I didn't know you were such a considerate boyfriend," she says. You start blushing but this time she's blushing too between her creased cheeks. You chuckle nervously, dismissing the comment.
"It's nothing," you say and then point the bathroom. "You've already been here before. Go change there or take a shower if you want."
"I'll just change, thank you. Don't peek at me though, okay?"
"What are you saying? Of course I won't," you reply.
She grins and runs into the bathroom to put on your outfit. It doesn't take her a while before she emerges wearing your oversized hoodie and shorts, her hair slightly toused. You have to admit, she looked adorable. The way the hoodie was way too big for her, and how the shorts let you peek at her legs, it was amazing.
It almost looked like she was your girlfriend, and she knew it too.
"Look at me, wearing your clothes," she says, raising her arms. "It's like we're in some romantic drama."
"It's just because your clothes are wet. Don't read too much into it."
Danielle continues, batting her eyelashes dramatically. She looks at you with wide eyes. "You've never offered me your clothes before. Are you sure you're not secretly seeing me as your girlfriend?"
"Don't be ridiculous. It's just clothes," you say, but her words can't leave your mind. You almost agreed.
"But these clothes smell like you," she says, taking a sniff at it. You blush brightly. "Am I stealing your scent now?"
The situation looks absurd and you're getting more and more flustered but still, you had to keep your cool. "Don't overthink it."
She bursts into laughing and jumps into the couch. "You're so cute when you deny things. Maybe I should keep wearing your clothes more often."
Trying to hide his embarrassment, you manage a weak smile. "Sure, Dani, make yourself at home."
You and Danielle keep joking around until something starts to bother your friend. She looks at the sky, more precisely at the rain, as it runs down the window, and her smile starts to fade.
Danielle turns to you and her face drops into a malinconic gaze, her eyes are half there, they're thinking about something else, but you feel the weight on you. "You know, I'm starting to feel like a fool," she says with a sigh.
You blink, taken aback by the sudden intensity in her tone. "What do you mean?"
Danielle paces the room, her agitation pouring out with every step. "You've known for ages how I feel about you. I've dropped hints, practically spelled it out, and yet you never do anything."
Bewildered, you look at her. You couldn't lie to her, you wish you could say you never realized it, but you did. You did know she was flirting with you and you did hear what she told you, clearly and explicitly. But you didn't want to accept it, you didn't want to believe it. "I... I don't realize you feel that way. I think we're just really good friends," you say and truly, you didn't think a girl like her would have any serious intentions behind her smile.
She halts, turning to face you, frustration etched on her features. "Really good friends? You and I spend hours together, we share our deepest thoughts, and I've been giving you every possible sign that I like you. How do you miss it?"
You stammer, attempting to find the right words. "I don't think... I mean, I think you're just being friendly. I never imagined you feel something more. I thought you were just messing with me."
Danielle sighs."That's the problem. You never imagine. You never consider the possibility that my feelings might extend beyond friendship. I've been dropping hints, practically shouting them, and you remain oblivious. Did it ever go through your mind?"
You run a hand through your hair, frustration mirrored in your eyes. "I never mean to hurt you, Danielle. I just... I didn't see it."
Her eyes narrow, the pent-up frustration reaching its peak. "That's precisely it. You don't see it. You never see me. It's like I've been invisible, and no matter how much I hint, you never make a move."
Danielle's words knock the air out of your lungs. You've never seen Danielle this riled up and it hurt you to know you were the cause. You take a moment to trace back your words. Have you ever imagined a life with her? Have you ever wanted to have her to yourself? Have you ever desired her?
The answer was yes. You think deeply if it was fair for you to say that only after she basically begged you to acknowledge her, but it was true, you did like her and you didn't know you were allowed to.
Danielle takes another deep breath, attempting to compose herself, but the frustration continues to spill out. "I've liked you for so long. I think you might feel the same way, but you never make a move. I've been stuck in this limbo, unsure if you even see me as more than a friend. It's driving me insane."
Your eyes soften, a mix of regret and realization settling in. "I didn't mean to make you feel invisible, Danielle. I've just been clueless, and I'm sorry if I hurt you."
She shakes her head, her frustration giving way to a sense of vulnerability. "It's not just about now. It's about all those moments before, the missed opportunities. I can't keep waiting for something that might never happen."
As Danielle's words linger in the air, a heavy silence envelops the room, punctuated only by the sound of rain tapping against the window.
"I never wanted to hurt you, Danielle," you begin. "I've been so focused on convincing myself that you couldn't possibly feel that way about me, that I never stopped to consider how you might be feeling. I'm sorry for not seeing what was right in front of me."
Danielle's gaze softens, a mix of frustration and hurt still lingering. "You're not off the hook that easily. You can't just apologize and expect me to believe you."
You nod. "You're right. I messed up, and I can't change that. But I can be honest with you now. The truth is, I've been afraid. Afraid of ruining our friendship, afraid of facing my own feelings. It's not an excuse, just an explanation."
Danielle raises an eyebrow and folds her arms. "Afraid? You?"
You chuckle wryly. "Fear doesn't always make sense. And I guess I've been scared of admitting that I like you too."
Her eyes widen, she's surprised "You do?"
You nod, your vulnerability laid bare. You hope you didn't make a mistake but you couldn't hold it in, it was now or never. "Yes, Danielle. I do. I've liked you for a while, but I never thought you could feel the same way. I convinced myself it was just a dream."
She tilts her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "So, Mr. Fearless finally admits he's not invincible."
You grin, the tension between you starting to dissipate.
Danielle steps closer, a playful glint in her eyes. As the rain outside continues its rhythmic dance, Danielle takes your hand. "No more hiding, okay? Let's figure this out together."
And for the first time, you hug her first. Your hand gently pulls her and she lets herself go, straight into your arms. You hug her softly, but with passion, with happiness. Danielle does the same, for the first time, not to tease you and not to try to make you fall in love because for once, she knows in her heart you truly love her.
THE END
Written, 16 February - 22 February 2024
419 notes · View notes
damagdsnow · 3 months
Text
Fix my reputation
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Pairing: young Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader
Summary: You and Coryo are together for mutual benefits, he needs a well known woman by his side to look reliable and loving during the presidential elections and you need your reputation to be fixed after your unforgivable scandal. 
Tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, fake dating, arranged marriage, manipulative/soft Snow, strong and independent reader (as she should), fluff, angst, power play. eventual: smut, fingering, thigh riding, switching sub/dom, degradation, denied orgasm, piv, dirty talk, overstimulation, oral (fem/male receiving), praising public sex
Chapter 1, chapter 2;
aesthetic chapter one, aesthetic chapter two;
Tw: Snow being Snow, mention of alcohol, panic/anxiety attack, eventual: mention of blood
Word count: 6.7k
Note: English is not my first language so if you see mistakes please feel free to correct me in the comments! It is also my very first time posting here on tumblr, I’ve always wanted to post my writing and finally I am now brave enough to do so, enjoy!
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You hated that man. 
If there was something you were sure about, it was that you didn’t want to be here with him, at the same table having lunch. You could feel his perking blue eyes staring into your soul even though he was not looking at you, he was meticulously cutting an apple with his long fingers and a shiny knife.
How did you get here? The man you so wholeheartedly hated, was now part of your life, and you couldn’t do anything about it. You felt like that apple he was cutting so carefully, peeling your skin, your essence, the way he was holding it seemed he was scared it could run away. You could run away. 
The problem was, you would never run away. Run away to whom? To your mother who disclaimed you? To those friends who didn’t help you out? You had no choice. Now the only thing you had was your reputation ruined for a fatal mistake that could have been avoided. That was not enough, the only way to clean your image was to be with Snow. The charismatic, intelligent and kind Coriolanus Snow. Or this was what people said about him. What The Capitol said about him.
You didn’t think the same. You knew who he really was, you saw what they couldn't see. He was evil, he was the one who got the games so popular with his ideas, the one who didn’t mind sending children to death.
You and Coriolanus had only one thing in common. Maybe two or three. One of them was that you both needed each other’s influence in society for different interests. His strategy to win the elections included a woman by his side to make him look reliable and sensitive, but he mostly planned on taking advantage of your popularity to make his own name. You, on the other hand, just needed someone who could clean your reputation after a little incident.
Who better than the master manipulator Coriolanus Snow? You weren’t thrilled with the idea of spending time with him. But it was going to be just for once. The gala before the official beginning of presidential elections, the most awaited event in the Capitol.
The agreement was playing the part of two lovers who not by chance people already knew, his name was well known. Yours? Still on the news. It was just a ball, you could do a night of pretending. 
 “Tigris said you haven't tried your dress on yet,” his voice interrupted your thoughts, and you looked in his direction to see his expression. 
He still had the apple in his hands and he was cutting it in half-moon shapes, he took one bite in his mouth and he directly stared at you while chewing. You tried to hide your disgust as Snow's eyes met yours, his smile sending chills down your spine. It was as you had imagined, or even worse, you felt his blue eyes dissecting you in pieces, like he was examining you, looking for your deepest secrets. You knew that staying calm and composed in his presence was crucial. 
“I don’t want to, it fits me.” You didn’t even look at that dress, it was even sent to your house but you refused to open the box knowing that he chose it.
“I hope it will,” Coriolanus didn’t take his eyes off of yours. “At least try to read how you should answer the questions, many people will be there,” he then said while standing up from his chair. His tall frame loomed over you, and you couldn't help but shiver under his intense gaze. 
“Are you giving me homework to do now?” you said, looking up at him.
“I’m simply providing you with some advice,” his voice tinged with subtle amusement. “Oh, you think it’s going to be simple after all you did? “The Capitol won’t forgive you easily,” then he walked away, leaving you alone in the dining room. 
This day felt longer than ever. The morning before you had received a letter from Snow’s manor telling you that someone was going to pick you up to prepare you for the event. It was signed by his publicist, Iris. You met her a couple of times before: a well dressed woman who knew too much about anyone's business in the Capitol. It was her idea to have lunch with him, “just to get to know each other more,” she said, but for you it was just a reminder of his real personality. They even gave you a room for the day, two chambers away from his, quoting Iris’s letter “this way you can feel comfortable,” you thought she was too attentive and kind to work for someone like Snow.
Iris was the one convincing you to take part in this gala, she explained to you that someone cherished like Coriolanus would draw the attention away from the scandal. You two just had to pretend to be together, “the Capitol loves unexpected new couples,” the publisher said to you the first time you saw her, “the young aspiring president and the woman everybody talks about.” Iris was convinced that this way Coriolanus was seen as the devoted partner who wasn’t afraid of your bad reputation, and you as the woman ready to rise from the ashes. 
You ran into your room and slammed the door so loud you hoped he could hear you. You found a big envelope on your bedsheets, and you hoped it was some sort of -hey remember the incident? It’s not your fault, everything it’s okay!-thing, but unfortunately, it was not a free pass to the world. It was a sheet listing all possible answers to some questions you might be asked today at the gala. It was like a script to follow to save your face, to look good in front of the cameras, in front of the-very-judging-elitè. In that sheet, you could find any imaginable question they could ask, where your dress was from or who your family were. 
“Did you do that on purpose?” It was one of the questions, and you thought this was something Snow would ask you. He didn’t say a thing about what you did, in the few times you talked he never asked you directly about the scandal. He could have wanted explanations, the real version of the story from you, but he never said a word. You read the answers on the sheet, and they were all perfectly written, so meticulously explained using the Capitol-vocabulary, elegant words and a candid tone. 
“How did you meet Mr. Snow?” Your heart skipped a beat, you didn’t consider being asked about your fake relationship with him, it was all new to you.
 “…it was love at first sight, who couldn’t love an extraordinary man like him, I immediately fell in love.” You had to read the full answer twice to be certain you weren’t hallucinating. 
You would never have said those words, never in a billion years, not even under torture, of course you were ready to lie, but lying to this level? It was too much. You knew it was him who wrote this answer, you imagined the grin on his face while typing those words about him. You were mad. The answers about your dating life with Coriolanus were filled with romantic moments and exaggerated gestures that made you feel uncomfortable reading their unrealistic nature. You tried imagining those things happening in real life, but it felt completely alien and artificial. It was difficult to believe that anyone could genuinely experience those events. With Coriolanus mostly. You read the pages, over and over, a book would have been better because there was too much to read, but instead, you were stuck with a bunch of printed documents detailing your supposed love story. 
He also put dates on when things happened: your first date in the lake house in July, the time you had dinner in a fancy restaurant in August and the day you moved in his place. Lies. Lies. Lies. Apparently you officially started dating three months ago. Three? You scrolled over the pages, hoping not to read what you were thinking. 
“…after the incident, Coryo was very supportive, always there to comfort and reassure me even though all I did. I felt like I betrayed him too, but he always said we could get through it together, and I found myself falling for him all over again.” You knew none of this ever happened, and yet here it was, staring back at you in black and white. It was as if the words were playing tricks, as if the words were there to pretend instead of simply put on paper.
You sighed and closed the file, feeling a mix of frustration, confusion, and irritation. He was never there for you. Nobody was. You were all alone. After that day, you cried every night, and you were the one reassuring yourself, lying in front of the mirror saying ‘it’s going to be okay’ while your sense of guilt was slowly eating your guts. He wanted to appear like the perfect partner, but you knew the truth. It was all a façade. Deep down, you knew the real him, and it took all your strength to acknowledge the reality. You threw the stack of files on the floor, it was all too much. 
You got up from the bed, and you went directly to his room, determined to confront him about the distorted reality that had been painted in those files. You didn’t even knock on his door, and you felt surprised when you noticed it wasn’t locked. You open the door, and you close it from behind, entering the room. He was standing close to his bed, completely oblivious to your presence. It was like he expected you to burst into his room out of nowhere.
“You finally read the file,” he said, looking at his wrist without making eye contact. 
He was focusing on buttoning his cuff links, his fingers fumbling with the buttons, his white shirt still open and his blonde hair wet from the shower. His normally confident demeanor was replaced with vulnerability as he waited for your response, the tension thick in the air. It was the very first time you saw him not perfectly dressed up, without styled hair and shiny shoes. The sight of him standing there, so different from his usual self, caught you off guard.
“Yes, I’ve read your fabricated tale,” you said, trying not to look at him, at the droplets of water sliding down his temple, his fingers still struggling with the shirt. “You should have become a fiction book writer, you got talent.” 
"I just wanted to impress you," he admitted, finally looking up to meet your gaze. “I can see I got a reaction from you,” he definitely succeeded in catching your attention, with those iper-articulated lies, not even close to what really happened.
“The agreement was that I won't say anything bad about you, just be by your side as a trophy-fake-girlfriend in this stupid gala, inventing absurd stories won't win my reputation back," you said firmly, crossing your arms. 
He reached his desk where there was a glass of some alcohol sloshing around, poured himself a drink and took a long, deep swig. “They won't believe you if you only stand by me like a mannequin, you have to be an active member of their social life, so they can get to know you, sympathize you and maybe forgive you,” he said in a calm tone, you could see his profile while he was again drinking from his glass, his shirt still open that showed his toned body.
You immediately looked away taking a deep breath. “I won't be a part of any false narrative you wrote,” was the only thing that came to your mind. 
He scoffed his head, “Just for the period of the presidential campaign, nothing more.” 
“Are you suggesting that this ridiculous act is going to take longer than just a day?” 
“I know you don’t like me, you just need to pretend you do. I’ll do the same,” he took another sip of that liquor while looking at you, “the publicist said just one appearance at the gala isn’t going to be beneficial to either of us.”
“Why are you telling me this now? The plan was slightly different,” you said
“Oh I knew you were going to be reluctant about the idea of pretending to live here, just for show,” he was serious, his fierce eyes looking at you waiting for a reply.
“I almost tolerated your presence at work, and now you want me to live in the same house as yours?” You asked 
“After the gala, they are going to focus on the ‘new couple’, our performance has to be something they really believe in,” he leaned his head at the same height as yours, “we already don’t have that chemistry, at least they are going to think we live together,” Coriolanus said to your ear, his curls brushing your cheek. 
“I simply decline your proposal, find someone else.” You said with a fake smile.
“Didn’t journalists harass you every time you left your little apartment? How exhausting, isn’t it?” He whispered in a sarcastic tone, making you remember all those times you ran away from photographers. “I got peacekeepers here, no one is going to bother you anymore, as long as you don’t bother me,” he turned to the desk, placing the empty glass in a tray, “strangers in real life, lovers on the outside.” 
“The problem is that I despise you, I cannot do this for one more day,” you couldn’t see his expression,  just his white see-through shirt displaying his back muscles.
“No, the problem is that you don’t understand how fucked up your situation is,” he was now facing you, “I know people who were condemned for way less, you are lucky,” his words were sharp as blades.
“Lucky to have you? It’s a punishment,” you said and he laughed. 
“Then don’t come at me crying at why people still hate you,” he took a few steps closer to you
 “So you can comfort me like you did a month ago?” You asked him pointing out the most absurd lie in that file.
“Oh, so you read every single page, you really did your homework.”
You stood your ground, refusing to be manipulated any longer. He was doing that purposely, just to provoke you, saying those things just to see how far you could take. Coriolanus was looking at you with his piercing gaze, attempting to intimidate you, he expected you to buckle down and crumble in front of him, but you would never give him such satisfaction, you were already in hell, so why not play with fire? 
“Why me?” you asked him, and you saw a sense of surprise in his eyes. “Why, of all the girls in Panem, you decide the only one who can give you trouble?” You took a step closer to his figure, “there are so many good girls from rich families and intact reputations, why me? I’ll just ruin you.” You said, trying to catch his eyes looking back at you. But you could only see his frowning eyebrows, his wet messy hair and a droplet of water trailing down his neck, you were so close to him, you could hear him breathing.
“Everybody knows your name, bad press is still press,” his eyes finally met yours. “You are the center of attention,” he took a step back, as if momentarily distancing himself from the tension. “The presidential elections are extremely competitive, it’s not a race for who’s superior to whom,” he licked his lips, “but who is going to perform better for these people looking for distractions. “We are going to be their little show”
“So tell me Coriolanus,” you stepped closer as you were before. The height difference was such that it made you look up at him, you took one side of his shirt in your hand and you buttoned up with the other, feeling his warm torso on your fingers. "How exactly do you propose to fix my reputation while bolstering your own?” you finished, a sly smile dancing on your lips and your eyes looking for him. 
Coriolanus was looking down at your fingers still brushing his skin, he had his lips parted and he softly whispered, “just play the game,” his eyes still fixed on you. He was talking about making everything right again, but it felt like there was something more behind those words. 
You stepped back, trying to compose yourself. “I’m just giving them another reason to hate me with this bunch of lies,” you were looking down at the floor when you heard him stepping closer to you. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his eyes on your face. 
He lifted your chin with two fingers and made you look up at him, “I’ll make them fall for our lie,” he said, his voice was so deep and calm.
 “You are a master manipulator,” you whispered back, looking down again as if the floor was more interesting than the man standing in front of you. 
You heard him chuckle, and he leaned closer to your ear, “and I’m going to teach you how to be one too.”
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Your first public appearance after the scandal was going to be at this gala. Everything was calculated in detail, the dress you wore had to be long and white, as pure as snow. Your hair had to be loose so it could cover your exposed back, and apparently you had to memorize pages and pages of answers you could give. After your intense conversation in his room you decided to play the game seeing how far you could take, how far you would do to take everything back. He wanted you under his spell, he was trying to shape you how he desired, for his own interests. 
“Dear, why aren’t you dressed yet?” The publicist said to you while you were sitting on the smooth sheets of your bed. You had your bathrobe still on, it’s been thirty minutes since you had a shower but you had your head in the clouds. 
You couldn’t stop thinking about your conversation with Coriolanus, his wet hair, the words he said to you, his naked torso, his manipulating eyes. You repeat to yourself that he was Coriolanus Snow, and not any man, he probably told you half the strategy he really had in mind. Being with him was like playing chess blindfolded, you had to trust him but he could mess up your moves, change your plans.
“Come here I’ll help you,” Iris said, she seemed like a good person, she had a comforting smile and an elegant manner with everything she did. She was wearing a short coppery-brown color dress, it was shiny as her nails, decorated with tiny gold stones. You took her hand and you stood up, making the bathrobe fall on the carpet. The silk of the dress soothed your skin like a petal, you looked at the mirror and the weak light coming from your window gently reflected on your bright dress, almost making it shine. 
“It is really pretty,” you said astonished while turning to see your exposed back. Then your smile disappeared because you remembered it was him who picked the dress. 
 “You are making it pretty, my darling,” Iris stated as she fastened the zip on your side. It was a simple dress yet delicate and impressive, it embraced the shape of your body effortlessly. 
“It is just a little loose here on your waist,” the woman said, touching the excess fabric on your side. You remembered the conversation early this morning when you proudly said the dress fitted you.
“I’m going to tell Tigris to fix it,” Iris said and you immediately looked at her reflection in the mirror.
“No please,” she changed her expression, “it is bad luck to mend a dress the same day it is worn,” your mother always said that to you, maybe it was not a popular saying considering the publicist's face.
 She tilted her head with a confused smile as she touched the yellow-butterflies-clip in her voluminous red wig. Now that you were thinking about it, you sewed your skirt the day it happened, ‘it’s just a coincidence, I don’t believe in these things’ you said to yourself, you were not superstitious but at the same time you avoided superstitions, just in case.
 “Whatever you want,” Iris said with a soft smile. 
  You touched your neck and you thought how a shiny pendant would look good. “Iris, do we have some necklace to match this dress?” She stepped closer to you looking at your chest. 
“I think you shouldn’t wear any jewelry tonight,” you tilted your head in confusion, “see, today is your first appearance after the,” she paused, “incident.”
“And what is it supposed to do with jewe—“ she didn’t let you finish your sentence.
“You could wear pearls or diamonds but what would the elite think? That you want to appear, that you want to show off,” she walked behind you so you could see her reflection in the mirror. “How you present yourself is the way they perceive you,” Iris brushed your long hair on the side, exposing your neck, “you are wearing a white dress, ‘how pure!’ No diamonds, ‘how modest!’ “try to think like the socialites, once you enter their minds, your act will get a standing ovation”. Her words put everything in a different perspective, she really knew what she was doing. 
You heard a knock on the door, “the party starts in an hour!” A muffled voice said from the corridor.
“Thank you Ariandes, we’re almost done!” Iris said in a loud tone. 
In less than sixty minutes you had to put on your best mask and try to change the mind of a thousand people about yourself, with Coriolanus by your side, pretending he is your supportive lover. You felt a rush of anxiety on your chest, like a weight pressing against your heart.
“I don’t think I can go,” you whispered with a trembling voice. Iris made a worried look.
“Oh sweety, I can only imagine what you have been through,” she took a lilac glass flask from the desk beside the mirror, “you are a strong woman,” she sprayed a lavender fragrance on your neck and she smiled. 
You looked at yourself in the mirror, and with all your strength you tried to keep the tears that threatened to spill over. “Iris, how do I fake being so interested in someone?” You asked, thinking about what was written in that file. 
“Have you ever been in love?” She asked with a soft gaze.
You didn’t know the answer to that question, you had a couple of boyfriends in your university years, but were you in love? 
“It’s when every atom of your body's only desire is to burn at the mere thought of being with that someone,” Iris looked up, like she was thinking of somebody, you felt even more disoriented with her answer. 
You couldn’t identify that feeling with anyone, you’ve never met someone that made ‘your cells burn’. What would that even mean, you thought.
 The door opened and you turned your head to see Ariandes, the political advisor, “We gotta go,” he said looking at Iris. The man had his hair pulled back in a long braid, dark as his skin. You walked in his direction and you followed him.
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The moment you stepped into the car you felt a sudden tension, it was dark outside, only one side of Coriolanus’ face was lit up by cars passing by. He was wearing a red coat that covered the rest of the outfit, his blonde locks were lightly falling on his temples and you noticed he was wearing a ring on his left index finger.
 “Act as natural as possible,” Coriolanus said and he looked at you, it felt like he was inspecting your body and you wished to be in his mind at that very moment.
 Was everything going according to plan? 
No, you didn’t want to know what it was like to be in his head, it was torturing enough being on the outside. 
“I’m not very good at lying,”
‘not as good as you’, you wanted to say. 
He looked at you like he read your mind, luckily you couldn’t see his expression. “Don’t be impulsive, smile and never leave my side,” you felt he was giving you orders, “what 's going to happen at the political campaign depends partially on today’s gala.”
 “You know, Mr. Snow,” you started “I tried reading your fiction-book but it was so,” you tried examining his face, “unrealistic,” he scoffed and looked the other way, “you want me to paint you as the man you aren’t and never will —caring, affectionate and respectful “I can’t do miracles, people won’t believe my lies forever.”
Coriolanus clenched his jaw, “at least the whole Panem doesn’t hate me,” he said close to your face.
“Yet,” you added, hoping to maintain eye contact one more second. 
“And just a reminder,” he said, “without me you would have been at home, crying and begging for forgiveness,” he whispered in a bitter tone in your ear.
 “And without me you wouldn’t have the attention you crave so much,” you replied, feeling the tension in the air. 
Coriolanus was too close to you, like an animal before hunting his prey, you could see his facial features reflecting the weak light outside. The engine stopped, and the driver opened the car door.
“Mr. Snow” he said and Coriolanus stepped out of the car, he didn’t even look at you. 
‘He would slam the door in my face if he could’, you thought.
 You took the driver’s hand, helping you get out with your long dress. Coriolanus took his maroon coat off and he gave it to an avox at the entrance. You could see him from his back, he was wearing an ivory jacket and trousers, his suit matched your gown. He calculated every single detail. Unexpectedly, Coriolanus waited for you as you stood by him in the hall, he extended his arm and you looked at him. 
“Do I have to?” You asked and you noticed a white rose on his breast pocket. 
“It’s just an act,” he replied and you took him by the arm. 
Let the play begin. 
The ballroom was lit by magnificent chandeliers and the air was filled with whispers and laughter. The atmosphere was comforting and energetic: people with colorful wigs, glitter dresses and sugary drinks. There was not a face you could recognise, it was not what you were used to, even though you have been living in the Capitol for all your life, you’ve never experienced a party like this. You walked through the crowd with Coriolanus by your side, arm by arm, while everybody was looking curiously at your direction. You’ve heard someone saying his name, and something about the girl he was walking with. 
Why her? Since when does Snow have a girlfriend? I’ve heard really bad things about that woman.
And there it was, the gossip, the uncertain glances and how they looked down on you. On the other hand, people were praising him. 
He’s so charming! White suits him well! Future president of Panem. 
You looked at Coriolanus, the warm light was making his eyes brighter, or was it the crowd? He looked at them so proudly, with a confident smile, he was living for that moment, being the center of attention. He met your gaze, then his blue eyes looked at your dress, but not the same way people did. 
It felt different. 
Was he judging? 
Admiring maybe? It was a mystery, nothing was black or white with him. 
Coriolanus greeted a couple of his acquaintances, introducing you as his partner, then calling you his date and it once slipped from his lips calling you his girlfriend. And you actually were, in that moment, you had to act as his beloved girlfriend who had a well known bad reputation. He never let your arm go away, he was acting so well, playing the caring boyfriend who couldn’t leave you alone. 
“Here they are, the couple of the night!” A loud voice came from behind, it was Flavius Windbuzz, one of the most famous tv hosts in the Capitol. His voice was recognisable from miles away, it didn’t matter if you watched television or not, he was everywhere and it was impossible in Capitol City not knowing his name. 
He stepped closer to you with a glowing smile and a glitter microphone, he had his hair gray, more like silver. “Everybody is talking about you, the new Capitol lovebirds,” a camera was pointing at you and your heartbeat was getting faster, everyone stopped talking and stared at you both. “So tell me Mr. Snow, who is this young lady you are showing off?” 
“You said it right Flavius, she is my girlfriend,” he did it again, Coriolanus said girlfriend, this time broadcast on tv. 
“What a pleasure to meet you,” the host said to you, he took your hand and kissed it. These exaggerated gestures were the usual in this type of parties, especially where a silver-haired-man was interviewing the guests. He asked about your family, if you liked the food —you didn’t touch any but you lied, and who was the designer of your dress, everything as the script said.
  “Honey, you are a really interesting woman but I have to ask you something,” Mr. Windbuzz said, “people are talking and it is my job to satisfy their desires. “So tell me, are the rumors true?” 
You expected a much worse question, you stopped breathing for a moment and Coriolanus noticed that because you tightened the grip on his arm. “You tell me Flavius, what do the rumors say?” You answered with a soft smile hiding your discomfort.
  “I know that during the last edition of The Hunger Games, something really unfortunate happened,” you noticed he had purple contacts on, and that was something that made you even more nervous. “Is it true that you took part in the incident we all saw live on TV?” He asked and you felt like your heart was beating outside your chest.
“It is true,” the crowd gasped, and your pulse increased. 
“So tell me, how did it feel when you killed those poor and innocent tributes?” The question was worded differently than what you read on that file. 
Killed. 
Poor and innocent. 
You couldn’t get out of your head their lifeless faces, the foam coming out of their mouths and the sound of the cannon echoing in that room. The hall started spinning, you saw the interviewer’s face, a mix of compassion and concern, as the crowd started whispering more and more you felt your head cold and heavy. The microphone was pointing in your direction but you could not even stutter a syllable, blank pages wandered in your mind and you felt a sense of emptiness. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned your dizzy head to see Coriolanus who started talking for you.
“She was more than devastated, I remember—, ” you saw his lips moving like the time had slowed down and you were not listening to his words, his voice echoed in your ears as you never took your eyes off of him. 
His grip on your shoulder tightened and his eyes looked at you as he tilted his head suggesting you both could go away. You followed him even though your ears were still ringing and your sight blurring, Coriolanus was walking too fast so you took his hand in yours or you could really faint on the ground. At that action, he looked at you with a confused stare, his hand grip was firm and steady as he dragged you in the bathroom. After checking no one was in there, he leaned against the door so no one could step in. You stood in front of him, his curls falling on his forehead that was a little sweaty, then he began talking, but the sound of his words were just an intense ring in your ears. He placed both his hands on your cheeks trying to have your attention, and you woke up from your hypnotic state.
“They are just hypocrites, they are the ones who watch The Hunger Games on tv, they send money to help their favorite to kill.” Coriolanus said looking in your eyes, and you started sobbing. “They are not better than you, “stop crying and play their game.” 
You felt the warmth of his hands on your skin, he never touched you this way, it was intimate, nothing you could expect from him. For a moment, you brushed your hand with his but he instantly removed it, walking away from your sight. 
“He was too indiscreet,” you heard him whisper, “I should’ve expected that from him.” 
“No Coriolanus, I should’ve expected this question,” your voice was still trembling, “you said it wasn’t going to be easy, I deserve this, “do you still think this act is a good idea?” You asked him. 
His tall figure leaned against the green tiles of the bathroom, he had his hands on his pockets and he was looking down, thinking about who knows what. Now that you were seeing from a distance, he resembled an angel. His white suit, his blonde curls and the perking blue eyes. No, there was nothing pure and heavenly in him. You thought he was probably thinking about how you ruined his plan, how he had to intervene to save your umpteenth failure and he was now calculating another strategy. 
‘Not an angel, a fallen angel, the next Lucifer of Panem.’
 “The night is still young,” he said while stepping to the door. He didn’t answer your question, was he regretting meeting you? 
Everything was as you left it. The party was still going and no one seemed to have noticed your panic attack. That was a relief. You tried distracting yourself, you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened before. The interview, the crying, his hands on your face. Everything was worse than you had expected. You and Coriolanus were in the hallway next to the massive columns that supported the ceilings, on the other side people were dancing to a classical melody. You wanted to stay there, outside their sight, because to you the dance floor was more like an arena where people were going to attack you. 
“Shall we?” Coriolanus extended his hand suggesting to go dancing with him. 
“I’m not good at dancing, I could step on your feet,” you hoped it would’ve been enough for him to give up. 
“I’ll take the risk.” That was his plan, acting like nothing happened and putting his best smile on to be the charming man everyone adored. 
You took his hand, the same hand that wiped your tears off your face was now intertwined in yours. Every time you looked for an excuse to not like him. As if you had to remind yourself that you hated him. Did you? He was dancing with you so naturally, holding you like you had known each other for a very long time, his hand on your waist as if he was used to it. There was nothing evil in him on the outside, and that was the problem. 
“I’ve just saved your face, thank me later.” 
You rolled your eyes at Coriolanus’ words. “I’m used to humiliations so next time don’t bother yourself.” you replied.
“Oh but I’m not used to it and don’t worry, there will be no next time.” Without a notice, he made you twirl around.
“When will this thing end?” You asked annoyed.
 “I hate it as much as you,” he pushed your waist closer to him, this way you were face to face, noses touching. 
“What the fuck Coriol—,” 
He interrupted you, “for the cameras.” 
You turned your head and you saw a bunch of flashes, blinding your sight. Coriolanus leaned over you and your lips were brushing, you couldn’t push him away because of the photographers. You had no time to tell him something, that he kissed you. It was for a second, just one second where your lips touched. It was cold, dry and unexpected. Just like him. Snow by name, snow by nature. If only eyes could talk. You’d probably say to him how you wished you weren’t there, with him, and you wondered what his blue eyes would say to you, probably the same. After that moment, Coriolanus didn’t say a word to you. You were there, smiling at photographers hoping to drop your mask as soon as they’d left. 
The rest of the night went according to plan. Flavius interviewed all the future candidates and Coriolanus had the opportunity to make his well prepared speech, he also got invitations from influential members close to the president Ravinstill, not to mention the many sponsor offers he had. At least something was going well, for him though. The ride back home was painful. You and Coriolanus were looking outside the window, his crimson coat was the only barrier separating your bodies. 
“Did they ever tell you how bad you are at kissing,” you hated silence so much you could say the stupidest things that came to mind just not to hear your thoughts. You turned your head to see him and his eyes were already on you. 
“Mhm, girls usually compliment me for other qualities,” he chuckled, “and then that wasn’t me kissing, remember it’s just for show,” he whispered looking at the driver hoping he wasn’t paying attention.
“Well, no one believed your poor attempt to look in love,” you said and he untied the knot of his white tie. 
“I was caught off guard,” he said looking at you, cars speeding in the window behind him, “and I can’t just kiss how I would normally do.” 
You tried not to laugh at his words, ‘what would that even mean?’ you thought. “Just try to convince them, because you didn’t even convince me.” 
“How should I kiss you then?”
He put his hand on the back of your head, with his thumb brushed your temple and he pulled you closer, his lips touching yours softly. You knew what was going to happen, but you let him do it. 
The way he kissed you, like he was starving for your lips, hungry for your taste. Was he the same man that kissed you before? You melted in his touch, his hand slided down your neck, his fingers pressing on your throat, making you shiver even more. He tasted like mint and posca, his hair smelled of roses and his skin was warm under your touch.
 Coriolanus pulled away from your lips but you came closer to cut the gap separating you. It felt like an instinct, like you were not satisfied enough and you could feel a sense of heat down your core. He pulled away the coat that was between you and his other hand was now on your exposed back, keeping you closer, his tongue still dancing dangerously with yours as you intertwined your fingers in his locks.
“Coryo” you said between kisses.
He wasn’t intending to stop and neither did you, but you remembered who was the man who was holding you that way, whose hands were making you shiver, whose lips were making you want for more and what nickname you just whined. 
“I think we should,” you managed to say, trying to stop yourself from doing something you were going to regret. You broke the kiss, his lips were swollen still too close to yours. 
He whispered, "I told you, I can be convincing when needed.”    
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🦋 A/N: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, let me know what you think in the comments! I’ll probably explain the details of the scandal and how they met next time, it’s way more than you can imagine from here. Also I KNOW there is no smut here, but bear with me, it's a slow burn and trust me in the next chapter I’ll add some ✨ spice ✨. In this first chapter I wanted to set up the atmosphere.
A special thanks to Freddie Mercury and the song “Play the game” that helped me when I was stuck, to the poet Taylor Swift who reminded me of the many ways you can say the color red. PLEASE let me know if you want to be tagged next time 💌 
ask me questions here !
@gracieghost36955 @annavatar @ghostlyloversworld @badbussylol @gracieroxzy @coolcatyarb @coriosgf @xxrougefangxx @devils-blackrose @wearemadeofstardust0
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dilemmaontwolegs · 9 months
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Not A Verstappen: Sibling Rivalry {1}
Pairing: F1 drivers (platonic) x fem!reader Summary: A little crack!fic as a driver!reader who is Max's little half-sister. Warnings: 18+ only, lots of bad language, protective big brother, sibling antics, daddy issues. WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three
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There was nothing that irked you more than being called a Verstappen. Yes, you were Max’s sister, but that was where the relationship with the name ended. Your sperm donor, as you publicly referred to Jos, had never been a part of your life and that was one blessing you were thankful for. 
Somehow the bastard's genetics had won and that stupid racer’s blood ran in your veins. You liked to go fast. Your mother said that you could run before you could walk and the same went for driving. At 17 years old you had your super licence before your drivers licence, making it legal to drive at 200 mph around a circuit with insane corners but not 30 mph on the street.
Something about that seemed…odd.
It was worth it in the end. You could still remember the look on Jos’ face when you signed for Alpha Tauri. Oh, how the bastard had tried to credit himself with your achievement. But there were more similarities that you shared with your half sibling than you were willing to admit. One of those shared traits was brutal honesty. And you had let your honest thoughts fly when Jos opened his mouth.
Three years later the sperm donor was still bitter. He would surely have to get used to it, especially since you had just been named as a Red Bull driver, alongside Max.
Round One - Bahrain 2022 “This is a historical first, siblings racing together on the same team,” Ted Kravitz said as he walked along the pit, stopping outside Red Bull’s garage. “The two Verstappen's will be fighting each other for the Driver Championship, once again, while simultaneously working together to win the Constructors Championship. A very, very exciting season ahead I can already tell.”
You had been pulling your helmet on, about to climb into the RB18 when you heard the comment. The short temper you were well known for flared and you sauntered into the pit lane. “Hey, Ted Crapitz,” you called out as he stood writing in that little notepad of his.
He looked up a little stunned and his eyes darted at the camera that was always following him around. “It’s, uh, Kravitz.”
“Oh, my apologies, I thought it was just normal to make up offensive surnames. No?” you asked as you arched an eyebrow at him. “Because Verstappen isn’t mine, so don’t ever call me that again.”
“S-sorry, my mistake,” he stammered, but you were already shoving your helmet on and grabbing the halo to climb into your car. “A bit of a slap on the wrist for me there.”
You had no doubt that the video would go viral and the comments would call you a bitch but you didn’t care. Jos was a piece of shit and your mother didn’t raise you all on her own, working two jobs to pay for your karting years, just for you to be called a fucking Verstappen.
There was no better feeling than pulling out of the garage and heading to the track. The finely tuned car purred beneath you and you could feel the restrained power of it just waiting for you to pass the pit marker so you could push the throttle and free the beast you had worked hard to control.
“Radio check,” your engineer, Nicholas, ordered through the headset.
“Tell big bro to keep his mouth closed during the race. It can’t be healthy to eat my dust.” 
“Understood.”
The jeroboam size bottle of Ferrari Trento looked enormous in your hands as you shook it up and sprayed Charles and Carlos back after drenching you first. You may have been on the bottom step of the podium but you celebrated as if you had taken 1st place. Turning the bottle on the crowd, you spotted Max at the front with a wide grin on his face as he cheered with the rest of Red Bull. 
It was a little disappointing that he had DNF’d but there was always next week to battle it out again. In the meantime you enjoyed the adrenaline of the podium finish and the image of Jos standing to the side with a face like a slapped ass. It was a feeling you could definitely get used to.
Round Eleven - Great Britain 2022 The leaderboard changed almost every week, flipping like hotcakes between you and Max. It was labelled as sibling rivalry, and for once the media got it right. Though you hadn’t grown up with Max there was an innate need to know who was better, who could push the limits harder and who could get away with it. Some weeks it was you, some weeks it wasn’t. It was all part of the fun. 
Fun. Now that was something that came in spades. The camaraderie that came with the competitiveness was always something you enjoyed moving up from F3 and F2 before reaching F1. With only 19 other people sharing the same experience with you, it was impossible not to grow close to them. 
“Can you let Max in front today?” Lando asked as you walked along the grid. “Please?”
“Why would I do that?” 
“Because he’d rather look at your ass than Max’s, if he can hold third place.” You turned to the other McLaren driver to see a grin splitting the Australian’s face. 
“Aww, Lando, the real English gentleman,” you tutted sarcastically as you pulled your balaclava off your shoulder and snickered when it slapped Lando across the back of his head.
“Unnecessary violence, Spitfire,” he gasped before muttering under his breath, “I know who you get that from.”
A growl pulled back your lips and you punched him none too softly in the bicep, which was a double edged sword because it was far harder than you were expecting and you felt the hit in your knuckles. 
“Oh, Lando, Lando, Lando,” Daniel chuckled as he walked off to his car. “When are you going to learn?”
“You know the car goes faster with less weight,” Lando said as he rubbed his arm.
“Yeah, so?”
He shrugged sheepishly. “All that baggage you carry is weighing you down.”
“Well, that’s just stupid, metaphors weigh nothing...” You pulled your balaclava over your face as you walked from the second row to the front where the two Red Bulls were parked side by side. 
“Hey Lan,” you called out as you turned back with the urge to lighten the mood after he had looked crestfallen. “Don’t get too excited when I warm up my tires, that’s not me shaking my ass for you.”
You could see the corners of his eyes wrinkle with a smile that was hidden by the balaclava he pulled on. “A lad can dream, Spitfire.”
You had earned the nickname of Spitfire from dog-fighting your way to the front of the pack and it was one you were proud of, it certainly beat being called a bitch day in and day out. 
“Just keep it to your dreams, yeah? I’m already paying too much for therapy.”
“You can talk about your daddy issues later,” Max interrupted, tossing your helmet into your waiting hands. “Get in your car, zusje.”
You grinned to yourself as the formation lap began and you started weaving across the track to warm your tires. All Lando would be able to think about was your ass as the rear wing swayed side to side and the thought of made you laugh since you lived to torment the guys on and off the track.
“Radio check.”
“I can’t wait to show everyone the upgrades.”
“Understood.” There was a pause before Nicholas returned. “Uh, you weren’t scheduled for any upgrades.”
Your start was terrible as Max flew away at lights out and then you were nearly clipped in the first turn by Lando, the swerve you took to avoid a collision letting Charles slip straight past.
“DRS activated this lap.”
You passed the starting line on the heels of Charles, Lando close behind but not close enough to use DRS just yet. The Ferrari was quick but he was out of Max’s DRS range and your straight line speed was far superior, it was only a matter of time before you reached the first DRS zone and made your move to overtake. 
“Did you just use indicators?”
You laughed as you hit the buttons on your console before pulling out of the slipstream, the rear wing opened to reduce the drag, and flew past the red car. You hit the new button the electrical engineer had rewired before pulling in front of Charles and laughed as you saw the replay on the big screens around the circuit.
“It’s only polite to indicate when overtaking. Have you never read the road code?”
“I’m more worried about the FIA regulations than the road code.”
“You worry too much, Christian can afford a little fine.”
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“£150,000 for a laugh! Are you taking the mick outta me?”
You tried to keep a serious face as you faced Christian but one look at Max’s amusement had a smile cracking through. 
“No, you don’t get to laugh about this,” Christian snapped, pulling your attention back to him. “You too, Max. It’s like having a couple of fucking children around here.”
“It was nothing to do with me,” Max argued. “I would never pull a stunt like that.”
“You have something on your nose,” you said as you pointed and he wiped at it. “Nope, still brown.”
His lip twitched before he snickered and playfully shoved your shoulder. 
A heavy sigh of disappointment filled the private room in the motorhome and you both looked at Christian. “With Max winning last year we are going to be under even more scrutiny, and this sort of behaviour isn’t going to earn us any favours. Cut the shit out and pay the fucking fine.”
You started to open your mouth to point out the fine was charged to Red Bull not you but a sharp elbow from Max had you clamming your lips closed again. 
“She’ll be better behaved,” Max promised with a glare that warned you to stay silent to save yourself from lying.
“Fine, get out there before the interviews are finished.”
You were never a fan of the post-race interviews but you left Christian’s office like it was lights out, racing ahead of Max to get to the media pit. 
You skidded to a halt at the side of the stage and Charles patted the empty space between him and Lando just as Max arrived. The other space on the couch was at the end beside Lance and you looked at Max with narrowed eyes before making a break for the better seat. Lando had to jump aside as you slammed into the seat just before Max but it didn’t stop him from planting himself on top and you groaned at the weight.
“Second place again, Max Emillian,” you wheezed as you tried to push him off and looked at Charles. “A little help?”
“Sorry, there are universal rules: we can’t interfere with sibling rivalries,” he said with an apologetic smile.
“Arthur’s my favourite Leclerc.”
Max took full advantage while you were distracted, staring daggers at Charles, and shoved you aside to take the cushioned seat with a smarmy grin. “Remember, best behaviour,” he warned as he got comfortable and accepted the microphone handed to you.
He should have known that the challenge couldn’t go unanswered and so you stood up, but you weren’t admitting defeat. His smile fell when you sat down on Lando’s lap, much to everyone’s surprise. 
“Hands off my sister, Norris,” Max quipped, but Lando’s hands were still in the air from where he froze, not knowing what to do with them or where to put them.
“This is quite comfy,” you noted as you wriggled around. “Maybe this can be my spot every week.”
“Fuck, fine,” Max growled as he stood up and walked down the line to sit with Lance. “Take the fucking seat.”
Charles laughed as you slipped into the seat and he held his fist out. “Everytime.”
You bumped his fist and smirked as the interviews finally got underway. “Every damn time.”
Click here for part two.
2K notes · View notes
iaure · 10 months
Text
𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶; 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢
𝖞𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖔❜𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗
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𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2: 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰, 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3: 𝔦 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 4: 𝔰𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 CW: self-awareness, stalking, obsession, delusion, ptsd, mention of a brother's death, thoughts of kidnapping. Written in the third person. Use of Y/N. Spoilers for Spider-Man: Across The Spiderverse.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ heaven have mercy on my simple soul. we might have another dearest series on our hands, but for miguel. god. jesus. i made this in one (1) day. it's two am.
wc: 1.7k
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𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗻❜𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗱𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘀.
Miguel knew that feeling all too well. Gabriella faded away in his arms, a flash of technicolour and geometric shapes. An entire world, falling away and escaping from him, like grains of glass as fine as sand but still so colourful. That's what kept him moving. He never wanted someone to make the same mistake. But he was only a man. he couldn't be alone in the isolation of his own making forever. He built up those walls, praying he'd have the sense to never knock them down. But brick by brick, other people did. First was Jess. She was his friend, his sister in arms. Then Peter, then a thousand other faces and names and hearts and morals and everything that made Spider-Man, Spider-Man. They each took a brick, as though it was nothing. It was just by pure chance that she was the one to take that last brick. She was a new addition. Friendly, witty, quick on her feet. Just like everyone else. Another Spider in another place and another time. Another in a million, another clone, another warm body as fodder. But when Jess brought her to him, Miguel knew; she was one in a trillion.
She had stood next to Jess, firm, with a thousand yard stare like she'd been digging around Miguel's soul and yanking out her favourite bruises. Harrowing was a good word for it. Her estranged brother, a captain in the police, had died. She looked like she'd seen Hell. Fresh bruises, scarring, her suit torn in some places...and she stood tall.
"Spider-Woman, from Earth 7290. Also known as Y/N."
Jess spoke softly, a hand on Y/N's shoulder. Her breathing was steady but her eyes had glazed over, completely tapped out to the situation. Miguel felt his heart tug. He knew what it was like. Everyone did. Most Spiders were sad, upset, but she simply seemed...angry. Furious, even. Like if Miguel made a move towards her, she'd chew him up and spit him out. He'd seen people try to tame horses before, ones that would buck and kick and neigh until someone's leg was broken. It was like Jess was doing that. The one hand on Y/N's shoulder, keeping her in place.
"Miguel?" Jess spoke up, and he came out of his haze. "Are you listening?" "Yeah." He nodded, quietly clearing his throat. "Sure. Get her a watch." Jess shared a look with Y/N, one that he couldn't quite tell the reasoning behind, but the glance of her eyes was enough.
Spider-Woman of Earth 7290 took the last brick.
He'd see Y/N around, walking around the Spider Society and speaking with other Spiders. She seemed to hold that anger close to her heart, despite the other Spiders telling her that it'd get better over time. They'd healed, or got over it, or pushed it out of their mind. But not Y/N. She stayed mad. She stayed angry. Miguel understood that more than most. Mourning took time. So many had gotten over it after years. It wasn't fair to expect Y/N get it over it so fast. He didn't think so, anyway. After all, it was an anomaly that took her brother's life. A mistake. It had fallen off the proverbial map, but according to Jess, Y/N had 'handled it her own way'. Whatever that meant. Miguel didn't really care. All he worried about was her. Rather than just taking the brick off his walls, she smashed it in with a hammer and ran it over with a bulldozer. She had a wrecking ball to smash a single blue and red brick. And he hated it. Because what about Gabriella? What about his wife? Did their deaths mean nothing now? And how was this healthy? Granted, Miguel wasn't a healthy person. Not like that. But the sudden way his mind dedicated himself to her was absurd. Did it have to do with his DNA? With the spider mutation? Rapture? Mating season? There had to be an explanation. A cure.
But there was none.
Now, Miguel's mind was rotting away. He wished he could pry it open and take to it with tweezers, to prod out the parts that he hated. But his eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, and he knew he didn't stand much of a chance anymore. It was all Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. Even just the faint, passing scent of her was enough to drive him up a wall that very much shouldn't exist. Passing word of her wellbeing made him tune into conversations he was never part of. He began to develop a seventh sense: touch, hearing. sight, smell, taste, spidersense, and Y/Nsense.-the uncanny ability to know when she needed help. Trademarked, owned by Miguel O'Hara exclusively. Peter once teased him about how Miguel would suddenly jump up and scoot over to the cameras, checking in on Spider-Woman 7290.
The teasing didn't last long when given way to the severity of the situation.
Gradually, Miguel leaned into it. If he couldn't fight it, then join it. Revel in it. Let his eyes linger on her frame. Let his waking hours resort to thinking of her. Let him suffer. He deserved it. He began to follow Y/N around. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And sometimes, Miguel would see enemies-a Vulture here, a Doc Ock there-and he'd help when she wasn't looking. Little favours here and there began cropping up. Getting her groceries. Taking care of her cat. Fiddling with the gas for the car of the one creep that kept following her around that was so sure she was Spider-Woman. Granted, the creep was right. But he didn't know that.
(He did. Love comes in many shapes and forms.)
Y/N never seemed to notice. She was off, battling her own demons and fighting the good fight in her own world. She was good and kind and still angry but she used that anger so well, and Miguel loved her for it. She burned with the anger of a thousand dying stars. She was everything. When Y/N would stop by the Spider Society, Miguel made sure to look good. Brush his hair, brush his fangs, make sure his eye bags weren't too obvious, or if they were, then they looked good. He was trying to get her to like him, after all. Check to make sure his suit didn't have any tears or holes. Because Y/N was gorgeous. She could drag herself in with her guts spilling out like roadkill and he'd still think she's the most beautiful thing to grace the multiverse.
The beauty of delusion, he supposed.
He was aware how delusional this was. He knew how absurd it was that he saw her and fell immediately. Was this what happened in fairy tales? Is this what Prince Charming felt when he saw Cinderella? The world completely spinning the moment there's even a hint of her? The complete dedication of his heart to this woman that barely acknowledged him...someone who would only glance his way if it was a requirement. Y/N was cordial to him, but little more. And it made his heart ache. She spoke to Jess more than she spoke to him. It felt wrong. It felt cruel, like a tease, trailing up and down his spine but never providing relief. One word to him was ten to Jess.
Miguel refuses to admit it, to accept that he was willing to stoop so low. But there was a brief moment where he thought about hurting Jess. Or getting her on some mission that would take forever. Breaking her bracelet when she least expected it so Y/N would have to come to him.
He'd never act on it. He was sure of that.
If there was one thing Miguel was proud of for himself, it was his restraint. He had the unparalleled ability to simply...hold off. Another day, he'd tell himself. Next time, he'd self-assure. Then another next time. Then another. Until heaven knows how many next times it's been, and he's aching for her to even look at him, but why won't she glance his way? Why was she so cold? He's done everything he could. Just look at him! For god's sake, just fucking look at him! That's all he wanted! Five minutes with your eyes on him, your undivided attention.
But no. Another day, he said. Next time.
But maybe he could simply...take Y/N away. Her world was inconsequential. It'd be easy to take care of any villains. He'd do it for her, single-handedly. She were everything. He could just keep her there, in his office, never allowed to leave. He could come back after a long mission to her loving arms, her warm embrace, flush to flush to flush to flush. He'd do unspeakable things just for her to trace the vague outline of his body with her eyes. If Y/N told him to kill, he'd do so without question anymore. Miguel barely had any control over himself.
The next time he saw her, it was while dealing with Miles. It was so much, all at once and never at all and undying and swarming his senses. It was so much that he didn't realise how much she'd been smiling at the two teenagers, how sweet her gaze got, the gentle touches and warm laughter and how Gwen and Miles looked up to her.
He didn't know Y/N had a soft spot for kids. And he found out most vividly when she was the first one to help Miles escape, blocking off what must've felt like half of the Spider Society with the same undying rage, now spent on protecting her new friend, the child she called such sweet things. That she saw as her own.
Miguel felt his heart shatter when he had to take her down. The way she fell into the floor, limp and dangling like she was nothing more than occupied space. His heart was wounded, wailing like a dying dog. She picked the newcomer, the anomaly, over him. Him, her one true love. Did it matter that she'd known it yet? No. It only mattered that she helped Miles escape.
Lord, he thought. I worry that love is violence.
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leafsandstarlight · 9 months
Text
Against Your Brother's Wishes - Rhys x Reader
Request: Hello!! For the ACOTAR bingo, could you do best friends sibling smut with Rhys🫣🤭? Like the reader is either Cassian’s or Azriel’s little sibling and like Rhys and reader are mates Description: As Cassian's twin sister, reader was taken in by Rhysand's mother as a child. Growing up around Rhys, reader always found herself attracted to the future high lord, but always assumed he didn't see her that way. When she proposes losing her virginity to a random male at the camp, Rhys steps in. Warnings: mentions of misogyny and violence against women (ie: wing clipping), sexual content Author's notes: This was so much fun to write! I absolutely did not edit it lol, so be warned. I apologize for typos & bad grammar. I'd consider writing a part two set in the present/future if people would be interested! Word count: approx. 3500 Minors do not interact.
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Rhys had grown up with you. 
You were his best friend’s younger sister - though you hated when anyone said that.  You and Cassian were twins.  Cassian had been born first, and he decided that meant that he had to protect you and treat you as his baby sister.  Anytime Cass said it, he earned himself an immediate eye roll from you.
The two of you had been left in the war camp as children - left to your own devices, with nothing but each other.  Thankfully, Rhys’s mother took you both in.  She kept you fed and clothed and safe from the deadly winter winds.   You owed her everything.  She had even shielded you when the males of the camp came to clip your wings.  Without her intervention, you never would’ve known the joy of flying - the feeling of being cared for.
As soon as they took you in, Rhys and Cassian started fighting.  You wanted nothing to do with their pissing contest.  You stayed out of it - letting them get out their aggression by fighting with each other.  During the day, they headed off for training, Cassian leaving a quick kiss on your cheek, while you headed to do your assigned chores for the day.  It wasn’t an alluring life to be a female Illyrian with no status growing up at a war camp, but coming home to a warm house each night had made it all worth it.  You adored being around Rhys’s mom, always willing to help her around the house, and Rhys was always kind to you even when he and Cassian were feuding.  You assumed it was because he had been taught to treat all females as ladies even if they were low-born Illyrian bastards.
You often felt Rhys’s violet eyes on you when you were reading at night, cuddled on the couch next to his mother, though he always made sure he looked away when you looked up.  Growing up, you paid it no mind.  He was the future High Lord, and you were a female Illyrian born to an unwed mother.  You rationalized away Rhys’s attention, his stolen glances, and his unbridled physical affection, never giving it too much thought. 
Even when Rhysand had offered to take your maidenhood, you didn’t consider that he may have had feelings for you.  
He had offered after Mor had slept with Cassian, the blonde’s strategy of weaponizing her own sexuality so males couldn’t weaponize it against her, inspired you to consider pursuing the same strategy.  You had said as much one night while you, Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel had were drinking wine you had stolen from Rhysand’s mother’s private stash.  Cassian had left to take a leak outside – proclaiming it was manlier to go outside than go in the bathroom – leaving you alone with Rhys and Az.  Cassian likely would have shut the conversation down completely if he had present – not willing to hear about his sister’s sex life.
“I’m thinking about finding one of the less despicable warriors and just getting the thing over with.  Might make those assholes want to clip my wings a little less,” you told your friends who were staring at you with wide eyes.  You tried to keep your voice neutral, nonchalant as though you hadn’t been thinking about it since Mor had told you her ingenious plan. 
Azriel and Rhys didn’t say anything for a long moment, both clearly struggling to form a solid thought that didn’t involve your naked body.
“Well – I don’t know if any Illyrian warrior would be worth your time,” Az said after a moment, his throat bobbing.  “But it’s your body, so it’s your call.  Just don’t say anything to Cass.  He won’t like it.”
You nodded with a roll of your eyes.  Though you were grateful that Azriel hadn’t judged you.
Rhys didn’t say anything, just kept looking at you with widened eyes as Cassian re-entered, effectively ending your conversation about your plans.  You couldn’t help but notice the red flush spreading over Rhysand’s tan skin as he struggled to keep his eyes off you.  When you spoke, telling you brother and friends about a particularly annoying chore you had been forced to do during the day, you saw Rhys’s violet eyes flash to your lips.
When the four of you had finished the wine, all earning your own tiny buzz and pink cheeks, you shuffled off to your respective beds.  Though, Cassian was already passed out on the couch.
Az had used his shadow powers to transport his tired body directly from the sitting room to his bed, leaving just you and Rhys to climb to the second floor where your chambers were.  
You went up first with Rhys’s warm scent following a few steps behind you.  You couldn’t help but be affected by the future high lord’s handsomeness and lethal charm, but you refused to ruin your friendship with him or complicate his friendship with Cassian.  Besides, you assumed he would never reciprocate your feelings.
When you reached the top of the stairs, about to turn to the left and find your way to your bed, Rhys caught your wrist.  His large hand circled gently around your delicate wrist, his thumb tracing the skin below your palm gently. 
“I don’t think you should find some male at camp to bed you,” Rhys whispered, his tone deathly serious as you turned to look at him. 
“Rhys,” you sighed, “I just think it makes sense – I don’t want to live in fear that someone will go against your mother and clip my wings.  My wings are less valuable this way.” 
“Nothing could ever make any part of you less valuable,” Rhys growled, the dominance in his voice begging you to fall to your knees in front of him.  Rhys was still getting used to having the dominance that went along with being a high lord’s heir, but he tried his best to avoid using it on you, Cassian, or Azriel.  It only came out occasionally when he was very serious.
You gave him a soft half-smile, but the intensity of his gaze didn't let up. Rhys looked down at you, his violet eyes imploring you to change your mind.  When you rolled your eyes with a shrug, showing him that you had no intention of bending your will to him – unsure why he even cared – Rhys sighed, realizing his efforts were wasted.
You went to turn back towards your chambers, ending the conversation, but Rhys pulled you back towards him before you could even take a step.
“I’ll do it,” Rhys said, no sign of mischief in his voice.  You gawked at him, your brain not quite processing your friend’s words.  Rhys seemed to sense your confusion, so he continued, “I’ll take your maidenhood.  If you want, of course.”
You didn’t say anything for a moment, just took in the sight of your friend in front of you.  Obviously, you were attracted to him.  He had been your first crush, the first male you had ever gotten butterflies over.  But he was also Cassian’s best friend and the male you had grown up with.
“Are you offering just to get back at Cass for what happened with Mor?” You asked carefully. 
“No, I swear,” Rhys replied immediately, almost too quickly.  “I just think it would be better if it was someone you could trust, someone you knew.”
You weighed his words, trying to make sure he was being serious before you said anything.  If he was kidding, you’d die from embarrassment.
“I suppose I could ask Az,” you teased, a glint of mischief filling your eyes.  Rhys seemed offended for a millisecond before he remembered himself.
 “Is that what you want, darling?  Do you want it to be Azriel?” Rhys asked playfully, causing your cheeks to heat.  He moved towards you, boxing you in against the hallway wall.  You would never admit it, but Rhys’s words, his proximity, were starting to affect you.  He made your brain muffled with arousal. 
You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool.  Rhys didn’t seem to buy it at all; he clearly knew how he was affecting you.
“If you’re sure,” you said after a moment, “When should we do this?”
Rhys’s eyes fell to your lips as you spoke, his mind clearly already thinking of what it would be like to warm your bed. 
“My mother won’t be back for a few more days.  Az and Cass are on scouting duty tomorrow night, we should be alone for at least a few hours,” Rhys told you, though his idea still didn’t feel real to you.
You nodded in return not sure you could form any words. 
“It’s a date then, darling,” Rhys said with a wink as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and found his way to his chambers.
It look you a long time to fall asleep that night.  Heady arousal and nerves consumed your mind, causing you to toss and turn for hours.
The next day, you tried to push away the anticipation of what you were going to do with Rhys later that night.  You rushed out of the house after breakfast, ignoring Cassian and Azriel’s questioning eyes on you. 
When you completed your required chores for the day, the most degrading ones possible, you used the menial work to distract yourself from the nerves.  You didn’t want to let your brain get too wrapped up in thinking about why Rhys had offered or what sleeping together might to do to your friendship. 
Before you knew it, you were done for the day.  When you returned home, Cassian and Azriel were getting ready to head out for their scouting duties.
“How was it today?” Cassian asked you as he tightened the straps on his leathers. 
You shrugged.  “Oh you know, another day in paradise.”  Cassian threw you a grin and you could see Azriel’s hazel eyes alight with subtle amusement.  Rhys was sitting on the couch in his casual clothes, eying you warmly.  You tried not to let his attention unnerve you. 
“You guys heading out soon?” You asked, and Cassian nodded.
“We’re leaving in a minute or two.  We’ll be back later tonight,” he told you.
“Alright, I’m going to shower.  Good luck,” you said to your brother and Az, giving Cassian a kiss on the cheek before you headed to the bathroom.
Running water was the thing you had been most grateful for when Rhys’s mother took you in.  After years surviving in the wilderness, having access to a warm shower or bath after a long day of chores was like heaven.
You let the warm water wash the day off you and hoped it would settle your nerves.  You tried to remind yourself that it wasn’t a big deal.  It wasn’t as though Rhys had feelings for you.  He was just doing this because he didn’t want you to sleep with one of the other males at camp.  It was likely a territorial thing. 
When you finished showering, you felt more settled, but you couldn’t help the way your heart was beating a bit faster than normal at the idea of what you might do with Rhys in the near future.
Wrapped in a towel, you found your way towards your bedchambers, lost in your thoughts.  When you entered, Rhys was laying on your bed, his arms thrown back behind his head.  He wore a feline smirk on his face as he took in your exposed skin.
“Rhys,” you greeted, giving him a soft smile.  There were dimmed fae lights surrounding the bed, clearly something Rhys had set up while you were in the shower.
“Are you ready to be ravished, darling?” Rhys asked, his tone flirtatious, but voice thick with arousal you didn’t recognize.  It made your breath catch for a moment. 
“You’re terrible,” you told him, placing your dirty clothes down and walking towards the bed.
“Have you changed your mind?” Rhys checked, his tone soft and serious.  You knew that if you said you had, Rhys wouldn’t take it personally.  He would likely act as though nothing had happened. 
You shook your head, looking down at where Rhys was leisurely sprawled on your bed.  You couldn’t deny that you wanted him, wanted this. 
“Not unless you have,” you replied, giving Rhys an out if he wanted one.
“Definitely not,” Rhys said with a smirk, sitting up on the bed.  “I plan on ruining other males for you.”
“Someone’s overly confident in their abilities,” you teased with an eyeroll, despite how Rhys’s words made desire pool in your core.
Rhys hummed in response, shifting so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs bracketing your towel-covered body. 
“What can I say?  I’m eager to please,” Rhys said, as he ran his fingers over your bare arms gently.  The touch caused goosebumps to grow in its wake.  You almost shivered at the contact.
Rhys brought his hands down your sides, tracing them over the length of your legs slowly, making your breath hitch.
“You are so beautiful,” Rhys whispered, looking at you in awe.  You couldn’t help but blush at his words, wondering if he really meant it.
His hands found the edge of your towel.  Rhys paused and looked up at you. 
“May I?”  He asked, pulling gently at the towel.  You swallowed.
“Maybe you should go first,” you said, not sure you were ready to be bare in front of him while he was fully clothed.  Rhys laughed and raised his eyebrow at you in jest.
“Eager to see me naked, are we?” Rhys teased, his hands deftly pulling his t shirt over his head.  You took in the expanse of his chest and the broad muscles that he had gained from hours of training.  You wanted to run your tongue over the ridges of every muscle, memorize them.  When his fingers undid his pants, pulling them off with his undergarments to reveal Rhys’s hard length, your breath caught at your throat.  You had seen all three of the males you lived with naked on various occasions, but they had never been hard and you had always been quick to avert your eyes.
Now, with Rhys sitting naked in front of you, his leaking length on full display, your mouth watered.  You wanted him inside you, wanted to know what it would feel like to have him fill you up. You could scent his arousal filling the air of your bedroom, mixing with yours.
“Like what you see?” Rhys asked, his voice playful despite the fact that it was thick with arousal.  He seemed to enjoy having your eyes on him. You should've known he would like to show off.
You only rolled your eyes at him in response before letting go of the grip you had on your towel.  The fabric fell to the floor exposing your body to the male in front of you.
Rhys took in a breath, his violet eyes sweeping over your naked form.  He had seen other females before – had bedded a few – but they were nothing compared to you.  You felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment as he took in every inch of your exposed skin.  You desperately fought the urge to cover yourself from Rhys.
“You are perfect,” Rhys told you, and there was no mirth or teasing in his voice. 
He reached out his hands to touch you, to find your hips and pull you closer to him.  Once you were standing closer between his legs, Rhys traced his large hands up your body to palm at your breasts.  You groaned at the feeling, pushing into the contact slightly. 
“Fuck,” Rhys breathed as he played with your nipples.  Nothing could have torn his attention away from you in the moment. 
Rhys pulled you down into a searing kiss, his mouth hot and wet against yours.  His tongue slipped into your mouth, tracing the top of your lip gently.  You both let out a moan at the feeling.  Rhys’s tongue battled against yours, every movement claiming.
Desperate for more contact, you pushed Rhys so that he was laying on his back on the bed, quickly crawling over his body. 
“Gods, y/n, you’re incredible,” Rhys groaned as you grinded against his hard length, your slick covering him.  You likely would’ve been embarrassed to be so exposed, so eager if you were with another male.  But you trusted Rhys completely.  You weren’t ashamed of your desire.
Rhys held you close to him, one hand coming to cup your cheek while the other traced down your back until it was planted firmly on the swell of your ass.  He kissed you passionately, each swipe of his lips against yours causing your brain to become even more muddled with arousal.  He was pulling you apart kiss by kiss.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” Rhys told you, his voice low and husky against your ear.  The idea caused your core to tighten as you ground against him. 
And then Rhys was flipping you both over so that he was pinning you to the bed, your hands pulled gently above your head.  Rhys kissed down your neck, sucking gentle kisses against the skin.  When he reached your breasts, he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the nipple gently.  The sensation made you keen off the bed, pulling your hips against his. 
Rhys’s hand found its way between your thighs, brushing up towards the place you so desperately needed him.  As he approached your core, he paused, not daring to move any closer without your consent.
“Rhys, please,” you pleaded, needing to feel his fingers against you. 
Rhys growled and dragged his fingers across your slickened core, causing you to whimper.  He brushed the bundle of nerves above your opening in slow, gentle circles.  As you moaned and squirmed beneath his touch, Rhys picked up his pace, causing warmth to spread through your body.  You had never felt this way, even when you had brought yourself pleasure from your own hand.  Every brush of Rhys's fingers against you was devastating. 
“I think I’m going to–” you cried, meeting Rhys’s violet eyes.  They were darkened with arousal, almost black as he stared down at you.
“That’s it baby,” Rhys told you, his voice tight, “Come for me.”  With his words, you were falling apart on his fingers, finding your bliss. 
Rhys hauled you into a passionate kiss as one of the fingers that had just brought you ecstasy plunged inside you.  You mewled at the intrusion, the feeling of Rhys’s finger inside you feeling strange, but almost perfect.  You needed more.  Rhys kissed you deeply as he worked his finger inside you, opening your tight core for his cock. 
When you were finally ready, Rhys aligned his length with your core.  He rubbed your slick over his length to ensure it went in easily and looked into your eyes in question.  When you nodded back at him, he slowly pushed himself inside, letting a groan rip through him at the sensation.
Rhys thrust in slowly, giving you time to adapt to his size.  The feeling of your core stretching around him was strange, almost painful for a moment, but you couldn’t help but feel desperate for him to move.  When he was finally sheathed inside of you, you let out a low moan.
“You feel so fucking perfect,” Rhys told you, his eyes widened slightly as he stared down at you.  “Can I move, darling, or do you need more time to adjust?”
“Move, please, Rhys,” you begged, desperate to feel what it was like to be fucked by him, to be torn apart by his cock.
Rhys groaned at your words and the way his name sounded on your lips as his cock filled you up. He pulled his dick out carefully before shoving back in.  It took all of his self-restraint to not fuck you full force, to not show you exactly how hard he could fuck you into the mattress.  But each thrust, each stroke inside you, had both of you moaning and crying out.
Rhys didn’t last long inside you.  Even with his gentle pace, he couldn’t help but be wrecked by the feeling of your tight pussy around his cock.  He had always been mesmerized by you - had always harbored a secret crush. You were everything.
When he finally came, spilling inside you, you swore you felt the house shake slightly.  You both laid on the bed panting, Rhys’s body draped over yours, as you enjoyed the feeling of what you had both done. 
Rhys pressed a gentle kiss to your lips as he smiled down at you.
“What do you think?” Rhys asked after a moment, his voice playful.  “Better than some random male?” 
You gave him a grin as he brushed his nose against yours.  It was a strangely romantic move, but you didn’t let your mind linger on it.
“I’d say,” you told him with a soft smile.  “Though the sample size is quite small.” 
Rhys’s laugh in return was dangerous as though he was already thinking about when you would do it all again.  For now, you just enjoyed the warmth of his body on top of yours.
When Cassian and Azriel returned, you would deal with the consequences, but for now, you could just enjoy the bliss.
You and Rhys showered and changed when you were finished, but as soon as Cassian entered the house after scouting, you heard him curse at the smell of your combined scents.
You heard Rhys laugh as Cassian stormed up the stairs, foul words leaking out of Cassian’s mouth with each stair.
That night, you watched as they pummeled each other outside the house, needing some way to release their male tension. 
The next morning, Rhys and Cassian both had black eyes at breakfast, but Rhys shot you a warm, playful grin. 
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1K notes · View notes
saerins · 10 months
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─── 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄
+ gojo x f!reader | wc 2.3k | content: modern au, fluff, slight angst, rich!gojo, rich!reader, arranged marriage but reversed(?), slightly suggestive
notes: haha i was exploring tropes and this just came to me :’) fairly nervous so feedbacks and reblogs appreciated muwah <3
summary: sometimes you think that you and gojo are not meant to be. and sometimes, he itches to prove you wrong.
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there are many things you would call gojo satoru. partner in crime, friendship on fire, a twisted manifestation of the kind of romance that would consume you whole if you didn’t take precaution.
“ready to do this, baby?”
he’s as sweet-lipped as ever, the honeyed words overflowing from his tongue. how you’d miss it, those words you hear at night, the saccharine praises that send you into overdrive.
“only if you are, sweetie.”
you’re equally good at it, having learned from one of the best—gojo satoru himself. you smirk at him, straightening his suit and tie. he looks devilishly handsome in that tailored suit, the one you had made for him. if you recall correctly, he only saves it for a special occasion.
and it qualifies—today is definitely a special occasion.
“so happy to be getting rid of me?” satoru asks you, pouting and putting on his best puppy eyes. his white lashes house a sea of crystalline blue, the kind you’ve gotten addicted to, the same pair you’d gotten lost in many times over.
you’ll never forget it.
the way satoru’s lips ghost over your own. the way his index finger trails up the side of your arm. he likes the goosebumps that sear across your skin. satoru loves knowing the effect he has on you.
this marriage of convenience has taken its toll on both your families. in hindsight, they should’ve known that they can’t control either of you. the gojo family, for all they’re worth, thought that gojo satoru would never betray their money, their status. and your family—they’d always known you’d objected to these notions; convenience, business, romance—the way these three intertwine intentionally, a manufactured relationship borne out of familial ties.
it’s bullshit.
how lucky for you, that gojo satoru felt the same. he still feels the same, which is why he’s in front of you right now, getting ready to drop the bomb in the investors’ meeting.
his father is sure to kill him, but that’s provided he can get through you first.
sure, getting married to gojo satoru was not in your life plans. your mother had chosen a very apt timing to tempt you, quoting half a million dollars as the condition for getting and staying married to that gojo boy. and sure, she can do her best to try and haggle that money back from you once the both of you are done with today, but you’re guessing she’ll be facing much more important and pressing matters than simply getting money back from her defiant daughter.
“this is what we discussed, satoru,” you sigh, avoiding his question like he knew you would. “one year, that’s all we needed. and look where we are now.”
satoru smiles, pearly whites and bad boy charm. “i’d miss you in my bed at night though.”
you smack him playfully across his chest. he only chuckles lowly, fondly, his right hand on your head, brushing your hair. it almost makes you want to stay. but that wasn’t part of the deal, and you’re not sure that either you or satoru are ready for commitments.
“must’ve been some pretty good sex to make the gojo satoru miss me, huh?” you play along, pushing yourself away gently, your hand on his chest.
satoru tips your chin up with his finger, looking you in the eyes as he tells you, “babe, you’re the best pussy i’ve ever had.”
complete romantic, as you can tell. (you can’t stop his vulgar tongue even if you tried.)
“okay okay, stop stalling, satoru,” you chide him, holding your palm out, smiling as he takes it. “got the evidence?”
satoru holds a thick envelope out, grinning. “all here.”
the two of you stand outside the conference room for a minute, staring at each other. in another world, maybe you’d be in this hotel with gojo satoru where you’re actually married—for feelings rather than a transaction. in that other world, maybe you and gojo satoru were childhood sweethearts, the kind where you grew old without all the fucked up relationships that branded both of you too overwhelmed to be in a real one right now. hey, maybe in that world, maybe just maybe, that vow that gojo satoru had uttered on your wedding day (the same that you had uttered as well)—maybe he would’ve meant it.
you didn’t think you would come to like gojo satoru. it’s been a long time since you’d first met him. when you’d seen him stomping into the meeting room of your company’s office like he owned the place, like everyone there was beneath him. he’d gotten right under your skin then and there.
getting along was no easy feat. it took three months for the both of you to agree to live together. strangely it took just one night for you both to give in to temptation once you did start living together.
both of you are menaces—that’s what your mother would say.
somehow, somewhere, those feelings you thought you’d never feel before blossomed again. the kind of trust you didn’t think you’d ever give was given to satoru and you wonder if he even knows it. but satoru has never changed his stance on relationships since the first time you met him; they’re a waste of time.
“you know, if you wanna keep me, all you gotta do is say so.” satoru’s looking at you, that jester smile plastered on his face. you can’t see his beautiful eyes when it’s all crinkled up like that, but you thank god for that. you don’t know how you’d resist him if you could see them.
“dream on, satoru,” you deflect, and expertly. you’re great at hiding your real feelings like that. “our deal ends today.”
yeah, the deal the two of you made with each other, right when both families thought their children had made peace with their decision, or their fate, as they liked to call it. neither you nor gojo felt any affection for the family you grew up in, not when they’d never took interest in either of you as anything other than an heir. when both your childhoods were filled with extra readings and learning proper manners. when satoru grew up learning from his father that women were just a means to a child and you’d grown up learning from your mother that if a girl is not beautiful then she is not desirable. you remember how she almost disowned you for getting a scar on your face, even though it was only temporary.
she has a penchant for the overdramatics. you think today might be no different. you hope not. the entire aim of today is to bring about the crumble of two empires—gojo’s and your family’s.
to hell with their money and their dirty syndicates. it’s filthy money they have their hands full with, and frankly, you and satoru are done playing their pawns.
as satoru leads the way, you loop your arm around his elbow, watching as his father is taken completely off-guard when he watches his own son expose his schemes, watching as your own parents try to salvage the situation by saying how children these days would do anything to get out of their responsibilities.
they’re all walking ironies.
you both watch as the investors walk out one by one, outraged and disappointed. you watch as satoru’s own father vows to kill him, and you scoff as your own mother seconds his notion.
“not if the law gets you first,” you tell them, effectively shutting them up as they hear the police sirens in the air.
they spew about how the both of you are pieces of shit as they’re taken away, and you find you couldn’t care less. maybe it’s a little inhuman of you not to feel a thing when you watch your parents getting taken away in handcuffs. but then again, they’d never really treated you like a human either.
“here you go,” satoru chirps as the sirens drown into the background. he holds out another envelope, this one solely for you.
you smile, a melancholy washing over you as you take it from his hands and take the documents out, flipping to the last page where satoru has already signed.
“our divorce papers,” you coo, “how romantic.”
because gojo satoru is always a romantic.
he remembers your birthday and remembers your favourite cake. he remembers what you need when you’re upset, never makes you feel alone. he remembers how you like your eggs and purposely cooks them wrong all the time. he remembers how you take your coffee and always gives you tea. he remembers how you always nag at him for annoying you and then annoy you some more because for some reason you look very attractive when you’re angry.
it takes you a minute to sign your own name. it kind of feels lonely now, thinking how you’ll never go back to the same apartment as satoru. how you won’t see him sprawled out on the couch, pouting because you’re a little late for movie night. how you won’t catch him staring at your body as you get changed. how you won’t get to throw your pillows at him in the morning for tickling you in bed just to get you to wake up.
after all—you’d agreed; these affections were temporary like they were always meant to be.
you can’t help but find yourself wishing for more. but you were raised to be ruthless, not stupid. you won’t let satoru know of your feelings, because all your deductions say that nothing good will come of it.
“hmm,” satoru hums as he eyes your signature. “wouldn’t be opposed to a special arrange—”
“not gonna be your fuckbuddy, satoru,” you deadpan at him, flicking his forehead.
“why not?” he whines, and you nearly cave.
because you can’t risk falling further than you already have when there’s absolutely zero chance of satoru catching you.
“because there’s a long line of guys i wanna date and you should get in line first,” you lie, and satoru smirks like he’s caught on to something.
but if he has, he doesn’t say a thing, and that tells you everything you need to know.
“guess this is it then, l/n y/n?”
you don’t want it to be, but it has to.
“you made a great fake real husband, gojo satoru,” you tell him, shaking his hand.
kind of a lame goodbye for two people who had shared everyday together for the past year. but you think maybe this brief goodbye should suffice. you don’t want the flames to burn either of you blue.
gojo satoru doesn’t say another word when you turn to leave.
and you don’t turn to look back at him as you walk away.
some chapters of your life should come to a close. your chapter with gojo satoru should remain here, kept close in your heart, kept warm as memories should.
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six months later.
“i just think you and i would be suited for other people.”
it’s funny, how everything never works out between you and other guys. you don’t recall it being so hard with satoru. perhaps he was truly made for you, like the heavens designed. but both of you were too similar, too afraid of commitment. nothing was going to come out of it anyway.
and maybe that’s why you miss it.
his fleeting glances, soft lips on tender skin and a pair of calm blue that never fails to mesmerise you.
satoru is the fleeting kind of romance that burns so bright in its prime and the kind you can never keep close. not when he isn’t willing to tone it down and when you don’t have the tolerance to match.
strangely, maybe that’s also why you’re still drawn to him. you’re still hoping that there will be a flaw in the design, that your seemingly parallel lines will intersect somehow. that maybe you won’t have to try and replace him with someone else.
“yeah, kento, i get it,” you tell nanami, sipping on your tea as you watch him get up and go.
you and nanami would not have worked out anyway. not when you’re way too fucked up and he’s comparibly normal. it would be too much for him. you would be too much for him. you stare at the tea in front of you. you kind of miss those dates satoru took you on; trespassing on private property and reliving youth in arcades.
satoru is everything—love, heartache, gambles, sins. both of you are spun from the same thread, and maybe you believe that if soulmates exist, you and him have the same red thread twirled around your pinkies.
though, the fact that he isn’t here simply proves you to be wrong.
last you’d heard, satoru was travelling the world, carefree and spreading his wings like you always knew he would.
you find yourself wishing that perhaps, somehow, you’d meet him again. but you sigh and get up, knowing you are far too old for this wishful thinking.
but where you’d thought that satoru was roaming, you forget that he’s much like a swallow. because now, when you turn around, you catch that same shade of ocean blue staring straight at you, the same white locks that obstructed your vision in the mornings.
the same satoru who’d learned of love through you and you alone. the same satoru who, even if he leaves, will always find his way back to you, no matter how much you try to deny and push him away.
satoru takes two steps forward before he pulls you towards him, his long arms coming around you and holding you tight.
this time, he’s not going to let you go.
“y/n,” he calls your name softly, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “wanna give this another shot?”
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sonamytrash · 2 months
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Lust For Life
Levi Ackerman x F!reader
Warnings: Sex, oral sex, fingering, creampie, more sex.
Note: Purely self-indulgent smut. Inspired by Lust For Life by Lana Del Rey ft The Weekend. Song fic, but the lyrics are in a different font, so skip if you like. I left it a little open to interpretation. Levi and reader have been apart for some time, having been in a past relationship. At last reunited they fuck on his desk. Enjoy!
_____________________
In these stolen moments,
The world is mine,
There's nobody here, just us together,
Keepin' me hot like July forever,
He reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, the proximity between the two of you making him feel alive again.
"You were always worth treating well," he says, his eyes locked with yours. "I never wanted to do anything to hurt you."
He leans in closer to you, the proximity between the two of you causing his heart to race. "I still care about you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I always have, and I always will."
'Cause we're the masters of our own fate
We're the captains of our own souls
He leans in and presses his lips to yours, the kiss full of longing and tenderness. All the years you have spent apart, all the pain and suffering, melt away in that moment,
There's no way for us to come away
'Cause boy we're gold, boy we're gold
And I was like
The kiss between you and Levi grows deeper and drips with passion. His tongue explores your mouth and tastes every inch of you. The electric chemistry that exists between the two of you is palpable, each knowing exactly what the other desires. After all, you have danced this dance so many times before. Your bodies entwine together, the heat and passion impossible to ignore. Completely lost in one another.
Take off, take off
Take off all your clothes
Take off, take off
Take off all your clothes
Take off, take off
Take off all of your clothes
His hand finds its way to the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth hungrily. He moans into the kiss as he feels one hand trailing down his chest, another finding the waistband of his trousers, fingers working on the button. He groans as your hand travels south, caressing his hardness through the confinement of his clothes, the sensation driving him wild with desire.
They say only the good die young
That just ain't right
'Cause we're having too much fun
Too much fun tonight, yeah
One of your hands finds its way back to his muscular chest, having discarded his shirt. Removing each other's clothes, desperate to be as close as physically possible. Years of longing and desire, having been apart for so much time.
And a lust for life, and a lust for life
Keeps us alive, keeps us alive
And a lust for life, and a lust for life
Keeps us alive, keeps us alive
Levi groans loudly as he feels your hand now wrap around his cock, the sensation driving him wild with pleasure. He had missed your touch so much, and now that he's finally here, it feels like a dream. You had always known just how to drive him wild and cloud his thoughts with nothing but you.
He uses his rough hands to caress your breasts, feeling your nipples hardening against his palms. He can feel the wetness seeping through your panties, and he can't resist dipping his fingers down to tease your clit.
'Til we run out of breath, gotta dance 'til we die
You kiss along his jaw and neck, slowly pumping his cock in your hands "Remember the things we used to do together Vi, dirty teenagers fucking like animals everywhere and anywhere." You say seductively, reminding him of the days where he would pull you into an alley or storehouse to fuck you senseless. A wanton moan escapes your lips when you feel those fingers you've missed so, so much.
My boyfriend's back
And he's cooler than ever
There's no more night, blue skies forever
Levi groans as he feels your lips on his neck and the feel of your hands pumping his cock, every touch and moan you bestow upon him, driving him wild with lust.
He can't help but smile at the memory of your wild teenage years, filled with sex and passion. The two of you sneaking around to fuck in the most risqué of places, always craving the feel of each other's bodies.
'Cause we're the masters of our own fate
We're the captains of our own souls
So there's no need for us to hesitate
We're all alone. Let's take control
"I remember," he says, his voice husky with desire. "I could never get enough of you, y/n. And I still evidently fucking can't." He says almost breathless.
And I was like
Take off, take off
Take off all your clothes
Take off, take off
Take off all your clothes
Take off, take off
Take off all of your clothes
He runs his fingers along your slit, the wetness making it easy to slide in between your folds, back into familiar territory. "I want to make you scream my name again," he whispers lustily in your ear. "That was always my favourite sound."
They say only the good die young
That just ain't right
'Cause we're having too much fun
Too much fun tonight, yeah
Levi groans at the feeling of your soft pussy clenching around his fingers, the thought of the sensation around his cock after so long. He loves the way your body sings for him, the way your pussy sucks him in hungrily.
And a lust for life, and a lust for life
And a lust for life, and a lust for life
Without any more hesitation, he picks you up by the hips and sets you down on his desk, spreading your legs wide open. Kneeling down between your thighs, breathing in your sweet scent before his tongue begins lapping at your wetness hungrily.
Keeps us alive, keeps us alive
Keeps us alive, keeps us alive
He sucks on your clit, fingers playing with your folds as he explores and enjoys every inch of you with his tongue again after so long apart, the picture of you having been etched into memory. The sensation is intense and the pleasure that he delivers almost too much.
"You're so fucking wet," he whispers seductively against your skin. "I've missed the taste of you, y/n."
Levi continues to lick and suck on your clit hungrily, worshipping the temple that is your body. He had missed this so much, missed the feel of you under his tongue, the taste of you, and the sound of your moans as they fill the room.
He speeds up the pace, his tongue working harder while he adds another finger into the mix. He plunges two fingers deep inside of you, working them in and out while his tongue laps at your folds.
My boyfriend's back
And he's cooler than ever
You come undone as he devours your cunt. Arching your back in pleasure as your orgasm rips through you.
There's no more night, blue skies forever
I told you twice in our love letter
There's no stopping now, green lights forever
Levi continues to work his fingers inside of you, lost in the pleasure of making you cum. Desperately trying to resist the urge to hump the air as his cock twitches in anticipation for the heaven he knows is yet to come.
You moan his name loudly, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.
He drinks up every drop of your sweet nectar, the taste of you driving him wild with desire. He stands up, kissing you deeply and passionately as he shares the taste of your essence with you.
"You taste incredible, you always do," he coos, hands gripping your hips tightly. "I want to be inside of you so badly. I need to mould this pussy back to the shape of my cock." He says, telling you what he's going to do rather than asking.
You look at him, eyes heavy with lust "Fuck me levi." you pant, your legs open wide and your fingers spreading your swollen cunt for him to see before he stretches you on his cock.
And I was like,
Take off, take off
Take off all your clothes
Levi growls at your words, he positions himself between your legs, his cock hard and throbbing with need as he readies himself at your entrance.
Without warning, he plunges himself deep inside of you, feeling the warm wetness of your body enveloping him in a tight embrace.
Take off, take off
Take off all your clothes
"Fuck" he hisses, almost a whimper. "You feel so fucking good." he grunts, hips slamming hard into your own. "I've missed the feeling of your pussy around my cock like this."
As he thrusts into you again and again, he can feel the pleasure building inside of you once more, your moans becoming louder and more desperate with each passing moment.
"This pussy was made for me."
Take off, take off
Take off all of your clothes
He picks up the pace, gripping your hips tightly, thrusting harder and faster into you as you both become one. The sound of your moans fill the room, your bodies moving together for what feels like eternity.
And a lust for life, and a lust for life
He can't get enough of the sound of you and the sight of you quivering from pleasure, as you cum again on his cock, tits bouncing from his relentless movements, he relishes the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing him. With one final thrust, he feels his cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches his own orgasm, hot cum spurting deep inside of you as his cock kisses your cervix.
Keeps us alive, keeps us alive
He kisses you deeply, the taste of your lips forever etched into his memory. He knows that there's nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you, nothing that would stop him from loving you endlessly, worshipping you for the rest of his life.
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cactuscoolerr · 4 months
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hello how are you?? hope you're doing amazing<3 by the way,can u request for a part 2 for the lacy fanfic? (idk fanfic?hc?idk) if it's possible?For the characters,can u make one for Sae and idk Kaiser? anyways you can ignore this if you want! no pressure! thankyouu<3 (sorry my english is kinda bad.Not my first language)
⋆。˚. lacy - michael kaiser, itoshi sae
• sfw (mentions of sex in kaiser's but nothing too explicit)
• notes: this is my first time writing for kaiser.. hope this is okay ( • ᴖ • 。)
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. ˚ 。⋆ michael kaiser
it wasn't easy being the girlfriend of the michael kaiser. before he met you, it was known that he'd go off with any girl. he was a player and he had no means of changing that, until he met you.
of course, he didn't change immediately upon meeting you. you and him had your hook up and he went the rest of his week like he normally would. that was until he found out that you, who just so happened to move into town, were a very close friend of one of his teammates.
kaiser had acted nonchalant about the whole situation, pretending that he was just meeting you for the first time, like he wasn't balls deep inside of you just earlier that week. but on the inside, his mind was going rampant with thoughts of you and the night you and him had spent together.
after a while, kaiser finally got ahold of himself and did the unthinkable. he asked you out.
the whole thing went well and in the blink of an eye, you had been the most important part of his life for three years now.
you and him had your ups and downs but for the most part, neither you or him had ever been happier than with each other. though, his history of hooking up with various girls seemed to get to you more often than not. you knew that it was over now and he was loyal to you, but it was a hard thing to forget.
"are you alright, my love..?" michael was pressed up against your side, once again forgetting what personal space was.
a soft hum came from you as well as a small nod. immediately, your boyfriend knew that there was something else that you were hiding. it was a common occurrence and yet he still didn't know exactly what was wrong at moments like this.
"you sure?" he pressed closer into you, making you squirm.
"stop it, micha.." a soft giggle fell passed your lips and kaiser smiled gently at you. "you don't like me anymore then?" his eyes met yours and you immediately looked away with a dramatized sigh. "uh huh.. I absolutely hate you. glad you figured it out"
instead of acting as he usually did and continuing the drama routine, kaiser gently turned your head to face him once more and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "i wish you'd be honest and tell me what was wrong.."
your eyes met the faint scarred mark on his neck from one of his previous hookups rather than his eyes. the sight made you swallow roughly, now finding it hard to make eye contact with him now that you were thinking about your boyfriends past once again. sometimes, you'd even convince yourself that he wasn't serious about the relationship. like you were just a toy to him like those other girls were on the nights he decided he wanted them.
kaiser noticed the way your eyes flickered towards his neck, and it finally clicked.
"my love.." he once again brought your face towards his own, kissing your soft lips this time while his hand gently ran up and down your arm in hopes of soothing you. "they mean nothing to me, okay..?"
waiting for you to nod, kaiser brought you in for another kiss. "you mean everything to me, darling. three years of my life have been filled with you and I could've never been happier with that fact.."
"i love you."
the two of you spoke at the same time, making your eyes meet in surprise, the both of you finding absolute love and admiration in the gaze you held towards each other.
"i love you a lot.." you whispered and wrapped your arms around kaiser's neck to pull him into a deep kiss, trailing your kisses down until they reached that scar on his neck to replace it with a mark of your own.
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. ˚ 。⋆ itoshi sae
"are you gonna come eat?"
you jumped at the sound of your boyfriend talking to you, quickly slamming your phone down on the desk before turning around to smile awkwardly at him. "uh huh.. just give me a second"
sae eyed you suspiciously, sighing and crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway.
"you're hiding something" he said simply, the usual blank face returning. "what is it?"
with a shake of your head and a slight shrug, sae grew visibly annoyed, stalking over to you and holding out his hand as if he was expecting something from you. "what.." your eyebrows pinched together in confusion. "give me your phone" sae's gaze was stern as well as his intimidating tone.
a sigh fell passed your lips as you hesitated, meeting his eyes once more which made you give in and hand sae your phone. you watched his reactions as he looked at what you were looking at, though you were disappointed with the lack of reaction he gave you. it was hard to tell if he was mad because you were stressing about something he had already assured you about.
"didn't i already tell you not to trouble yourself over dumb shit like this?" his eyebrow was raised as he gazed down at you, not yet handing your phone back to you as he began scrolling.
a soft sniffle sounded from you as you gently wiped the bridge of your nose, gulping the suffocating feeling in your throat. "yeah.. sorry.."
sae sighed softly, placing your phone back down on the desk. he looked at your for a few seconds, noticing how you were beginning to tear up. it wasn't a secret to sae that you were sensitive and he was careful with that fact. he was almost annoyed with himself for being the cause of upsetting you.
"im not mad.." another sigh came from your boyfriend. still, you refused to look at him again, feeling embarrassed that he had to tell you to stop overthinking again.
you knew that his last relationship was apparently a pr thing. sae had been getting articles written about him for his poor attitude and his manager had thought a pretty girlfriend and public outings would fix that. of course, it worked. though, the girl got a lot of hate from fans of sae, saying she was a distraction or she didn't deserve to be with him.
and when sae began dating you nearly a year later, this time because he actually wanted to be dating someone, he kept you hidden from prying eyes.
it was easy for sae to have a private relationship and you enjoyed yours and sae's quiet and intimate relationship together. no one knew that sae was gentle with you, unlike how he was with everyone else. but that was also the issue. it was hard to be a secret when his last relationship was so public and there were so many pictures of them being all over each other, though sae claimed he hated it, said it made him uncomfortable.
"we shouldn't have to have a public relationship for you to believe that i love you," sae spoke, pinching the brim of his nose. "i know you love me.." you looked up at him, sniffling softly. "its just hard when other people are claiming that you don't because you don't want to be public with me.."
with another deep sigh, you were pulled into sae's arms, your cheek pressed into the warmth of sae's chest. "i just want to protect you. is that so hard to believe?"
you gently shook your head no, wiping the few tears that slipped passed your waterline. "its because i love you, you know" a careful hand moved to card through your hair, soothing you even more with your boyfriends rhythmic heartbeat that slightly sped up when you wrapped your arms around his torso.
"love you, too.." you whispered, moving your head to look up at sae, who pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead.
"yeah, i know you do, crybaby.." sae grumbled with a slight roll of his eyes, annoyed that you so easily got him to show you his sweet and gentle side. but it made you feel at ease knowing that side was reserved for you and you only.
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writeforfandoms · 4 months
Text
Who Wants To Live Forever
Find my Ghost masterlist
It doesn't matter how many lives you've lived, you always find your way back to him.
The reincarnation au nobody asked for and my plot bunnies yeeted at me anyway! I have a lot of thoughts about this one that didn't make it into the fic. Like. A Lot.
Warnings: Swearing, past violence, blood, injury mention, canon typical violence, idiots in love, this is just for fun, I wrote this for me but you can read it too.
Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader
Word count: 2.9k
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The dreams started when you were small. Your parents at first attributed them to an overactive imagination and too much television. 
But as you got older and the dreams didn't go away, you wondered. Your parents got squirrelly about them, started muttering about things like psychiatrists and not normal and worried. 
So you stopped mentioning them. Pretended you didn't dream at all most nights. 
Reality couldn't be farther from the truth. 
You dreamed. Every single night. In some you were part of a village, living a harsh life by the sea. The men would go off to hunt and raid, and the women stayed behind to mind the village and raise the children. Those dreams always left you cold. Even in those dreams, though, dream-you noticed the beauty, the way sunlight glinted off snow, the magical lights in the sky, the blue of the sky after a storm. 
Some nights you dreamed of being a nurse, tending wounded soldiers in tents and buildings. Those dreams were always full of screaming and crying and horrors. Men wheezing, coughing up blood. Limbs shattered and mangled beyond repair. A stench like you couldn't describe. But there were little moments, moments of kindness. Holding a man's hand to comfort him through his last breaths. The way the sunrise broke through some of the haze of pain surrounding those places. The way a doctor or fellow nurse would sometimes thank you, buy you a drink, share scant meals with you. 
Sometimes you were a school teacher in a rural village, gently scolding children and keeping watch as they frollicked at break times. Those dreams were full of small joys. A flower one of your students brought you, bashful smile blooming into a grin at your thanks. Sunsets from the comfort of home. Warm meals at the table, often shared. With him.
He was a constant presence. Through all of your dreams, all of those times, he was always to be found. He didn't always look the same - skin tone changed, hair color changed. But you always knew him by those brown eyes. 
Sometimes the two of you married. Sometimes he was married before you met him. Sometimes you were married first. But you always, always found each other. In every time. In every life. 
By the time you were out of school, you had notebooks dedicated to your dreams, to the times, to the man. You kept them hidden away, for your eyes only. Just as a way to help you keep everything straight. 
As more time passed, you became more and more sure that these were glimpses into the past. Your past. Past lives, you'd guess. From the way the dreams felt… it always felt like you. No matter how many times you put pen to paper, you could never accurately describe why. 
But you knew. They were all you.
And they were all him. 
Which made you wonder… when would you find him in this life? You'd found him in almost all of the others. It seemed reasonable that you'd find him again. 
(Nevermind that you had no name, no description, no way of knowing what he'd look like or where he'd be.) 
Knowing that he was out there somewhere made it easy to bury yourself in work. Oh, sure, you had friends. People who knew you. You were well-liked at work, known to get things done. 
But you didn't date. You didn't look for people who weren't him. 
Everyone else, you knew, would pale in comparison. 
All the lives accumulated in your head did make it hard to relate. It was easier, sometimes, to sort of… float through life. You knew what was expected of you. You'd known people from every walk of life, just about. You knew a lot about people, could do well in social situations without working at it. 
But it did make for a rather lonely life. 
You started dreaming of him more often. Of the times the two of you lived together. Of the long talks the two of you had. Of the walks, along the sea, along a grass-lined lane, along a lake. Of the times he was just out of reach, your eyes meeting again and again through crowds and dinners and company. 
Of the time he died in your arms, blood staining the both of you. 
You were tired when you got on the train. This was just a little holiday to a new place. 
Or. Well. You hadn't been here in this lifetime, at least. 
It was busier than you remembered the area being, more built up. Your lips twitched - that's what happened over time, after all. 
Nothing stayed the same for long. 
You didn't pay any mind to the people around you as you walked, taking your time. You didn't mind walking to your hotel from the train station. Gave you a better chance to look around and plan where you wanted to go later. 
Your eyes met brown through a coffee shop window.
You froze. You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes. 
He blinked, just once. You couldn't look away. 
The noise of the coffee shop finally registered when you stopped in front of his table, the chinking of mugs and flatware, the hiss of the machines, the babble of unimportant voices. 
“Hi.” You were a little surprised at your own voice, quiet and a little awed. 
He eyed you, black face mask obscuring most of his expression. For a moment your heart plummeted. Maybe he didn't recognize you? Maybe… he didn't remember? 
Then his lips twitched. 
“Took you long enough.” 
“Took me long enough?” You tried for outrage but probably fell short, humor and elation buoying your heart. “And what about you, hmm?” 
“Been busy.” He nodded to the seat across from him, and you could just see the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile. 
“Oh, busy. Yes, how silly of me to not think of that.” You dropped into the seat, your bag landing at your feet a little harder than was probably advisable. 
“Holiday?” His gaze dropped briefly to the table, to where your bag was now hidden. 
“Yes.” Some of your elation faded at the dose of reality. “You?”
He paused, holding your gaze. “On leave.” 
“Ah.” You smiled a little, sliding one open hand across the table. “Going well this time, then?”
He didn't say anything for a long moment, staring down at your open hand. His fingers twitched. “Not particularly.” 
Your heart plummeted. “Oh.” 
“S'fine.” He shook his head once, short and sharp. “You want anything? Tea, coffee?” 
“Coffee is fine.” You started to stand but he waved you back into your seat. 
“Wait here.” 
You huffed out a breath and watched him go, broad shoulders easy to track up to the register. You finally had the attention to note other details about him. He was dressed casually, all in black, with his hood pulled up. You'd caught blonde hair under his hood. 
Taller than you could remember him being. Broad shoulders. 
It was just… so good to see him again. To see him now. With your own eyes, in this life. 
It would be nice to make more memories, for next time. 
The clink of a mug being set in front of you brought you out of your own head. You blinked at the mug and then at him as he sat across from you again. 
“How long are you here?” He folded his hands in front of him, gaze fixed on you. 
You shrugged. “I had only planned for a few days,” you admitted. “But I can make it longer.” 
He grunted once, thumb tapping against the side of his hand as he considered something. Then he nodded once. “Meet me here tomorrow,” he said, abruptly moving to grab a pen and a napkin. “1200.” 
You blinked once. “Tomorrow?” You couldn't quite keep the disappointment from your voice at that. 
“Got some things to take care of before then,” he said, barely glancing up at you as he finished writing on the napkin. “Got some people for you to meet, too. If you want to know me better this time ‘round.”
You swallowed against the lump in your throat. He'd married already. That was the only thing you could think of. He was already married and you were too late. “I see.”
“No. You don't.” He pushed the napkin to you, tapping it twice with one large finger. “Here. Tomorrow.”
“1200,” you repeated dutifully, mustering up a wan smile. “Yes. I remember.”
“Good.” He pushed back to his feet abruptly, and you startled a little. He was just so tall! “If you don't show, I'll assume you don't want to meet again.” The words were flat, even, but his eyes… his eyes hid pain. 
You nodded, too startled for words by all of this. In a moment he was gone, striding out of the coffee shop and away from you.
Every fiber of you longed to go after him, to beg him for answers. 
Instead, you sat and sipped your coffee with trembling hands, staring at the napkin until the blocky letters were burned into your memory. 
The walk to your hotel was a bit of a blur. You barely paid attention to the social interaction, though you must have done well enough. 
You ended up sitting on the bed, bag on the floor, staring at your hands. 
He'd been so close. So close. 
But he hadn't taken your offer. He hadn't touched you. 
You thought you might finally be going a little insane. Was this what insanity felt like? Was this some kind of fever dream? Had you finally lost all sense of reality?
But no. You had the napkin in your pocket still. You'd seen him. You hadn't learned his name this time around, hadn't learned much of anything really, except that he had people he wanted you to meet. 
People. He'd said people for you to meet. 
The words finally sank fully into your brain, and you weren't sure whether to laugh or scream. People. People to meet. As in more than one person.
As in he was not only married but had a family…
…or something else entirely. Something new. 
Even after so many lives, the world still had a way of surprising you. A lesson hard learned over time. 
You forced yourself to breathe through the weight of history on your shoulders, staring back at all the lives where things had gone wrong. 
And then you forced yourself to find some dinner, shower, and read for a while before bed. 
Not that you slept very well. Not with anticipation and dread wreaking havoc on your heart. 
You arrived at the meeting spot ten minutes early, a little cafe on a square with a fountain in the middle. You stood outside, hands in your pockets, unsure what to expect. 
“You’re early.”
You swallowed once, heart thudding hard against your ribs as you turned to look at him. “Didn’t want to be late,” you quipped, only to falter. 
He wasn’t alone today.
Three other men stood with him, all of them looking at you. You lifted your chin a little, meeting the gaze of the closest man. You had just enough time to note how blue his eyes were before the memories slammed into you. 
A quiet life working the land, out beyond the edge of the “civilized” world, a husband with a rare but kind smile, eyes so blue you could drown in them. Rare trips to the nearest town gave you glimpses of your brown-eyed man, but no more than that. Cold winters and muddy springs and indomitable shoulders to lean on through it all. 
And a slightly less quiet life of some wealth, with a husband whose work often took him from home. But you’d had friends that time, your own societal duties. Dances. Events. Hosting. That life had not been devoid of its fun and beauty. 
“Oh.” You blinked at him, eyes wide. 
His lips twitched under his facial hair (muttonchops - unusual choice for this day and age) and he held out a hand to you. “Captain John Price.”
You gave him your name and shook his hand, holding his gaze for a moment longer. If he was like the him you’d known, he was a good man. Time would tell if and how he had changed. “I married you before.”
He grinned for a moment, so close to the man you’d known that your heart ached. “Twice, but don’t hold it against me,” he joked before he stepped aside. 
The next man to step up also had blue eyes and a big smile. You knew him immediately - you’d seen him before, too. A few times in the shadow of your brown-eyed love, once or twice on his own. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been standing over the bed of one of his men, half-covered in blood and muck. 
There had been nothing you could do, then. 
Now you smiled. “Good to see you again.” 
“Ye look better this time.” He chucked you gently under the chin with two knuckles, grinning. “John MacTavish, call me Soap.” 
“Soap?” You raised one extremely unimpressed eyebrow. 
He laughed. “A story for another time,” he promised, winking at you before he stepped back. 
The last man looked at you, nerves in the pinch of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Darker skin and a ballcap met your quick perusal. 
You only had to meet his gaze for a moment before you threw yourself at him, hugging him as hard as you could, breath stuttering in your chest. 
“Hey, hey,” he cooed, arms immediately settling around you, one hand cupping the back of your head. “It’s alright, we’re fine.”
“You left,” you grumbled, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again.”
“Promise,” he muttered, voice low, just between the two of you. “I won’t.”
You sniffled, just once, before you pulled back to look at him. “I missed you,” you admitted before gently whapping his arm. “And if you disappear on me again I’ll hunt you down next life.”
“Yes ma’am.” He grinned, not even a little abashed. 
“So, what ridiculous nickname have you gotten this time?” You smiled, finally taking a half-step back. 
“It’s not ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Gaz. Kyle, this time ‘round.”
“Gaz.” You tested it out slowly before shrugging. “Not the worst.”
“Oh? And what would be?” Soap snuck up next to you, looking eager for mischief. 
“Story for another time,” you shot back at him with a smile. You finally turned your gaze to him again, to your brown-eyed man. The only one who hadn’t given you his name yet.
“Simon,” he finally said, as if he’d read your mind. 
“Simon.” You smiled. “How did you…?” You made a helpless motion between the three men. 
“Price,” Simon answered with a little shrug. “Found all of us.” 
“Came across ‘em,” Price said, arms crossed over his chest. “Knew I had to keep ‘em close.” 
You nodded, a little ache in your heart. “It’s a good thing you did.” But your gaze didn’t stray from Simon, too busy basking in the sight of him, here and whole in front of you.
“He’s no’ married yet,” Soap said in a stage whisper. When you glanced at him, he was grinning. “Unattached. Available. Free to a good home.”
“MacTavish,” Simon growled, brows twitching in annoyance. 
But you? You grinned. “Well, that’s good, because it’s your turn this time,” you teased, chin tipping up and to one side. 
Simon’s gaze snapped back to you, eyes a little wide. “What?” 
“I asked you last time,” you said patiently, trying hard to not grin. “Almost kissed you in front of your fiance, too.” 
“Almost,” he agreed, eyes warm as his gaze swept the length of your body. 
“I spotted you yesterday, too,” you pointed out, completely reasonably and not at all like a little gremlin. (You liked that word a lot and had incorporated it as much as you could once you’d caught airmen using it during World War II.) 
“So, ‘s my turn?” He took one step closer to you.
“Mmhm.” You bit the inside of your lip hard to keep your grin to yourself. 
His eyes narrowed at you, which was the only warning you had before he pulled down his face mask and kissed you. Vaguely, you heard Soap cheering and Price grumbling. But everything fell to the back of your mind.
Everything that wasn’t Simon. 
A little piece of your heart clicked into place. 
When he finally pulled back, both of you were a little out of breath, holding each other tight. His lips twitched in a tiny smile and you all but beamed in response. 
And then yipped when someone yanked you away from Simon.
“Best friend dibs,” Kyle announced, already starting to walk you away. “Mine for now, I’ll give her back in a day or two.”
You cackled at the look on Simon’s face, like he was torn between murder and laughing along with the joke. 
“There’s no rush,” you couldn’t help but tease. “We’ve got this entire life, now.” 
Simon met your gaze again even as his long strides caught him up with you and Kyle. His mask was back in place now but his eyes were warm, smiling at you, even as his hand twined with yours. 
Finally. 
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