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macfrog · 4 months

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sweet child o' mine | pt. ii

hi. this is max's lawyer speaking. please don't get mad at her for this part. she asked me to let you know that she loves you all and hopes that you trust her. sincerely, jimmy mcgill

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're pregnant with joel miller's kid. he's dating someone else. you deal with it.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy stuff like nausea (none of the v word, y'all are safe with me), ultrasound scene set in a hospital, anxiety and guilt surrounding pregnancy, description of body change/growth, brief and i mean brief discussion of abortion, joel is dating someone who isn't reader, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), reader has no physical description save for hair, cursing, genderless use of buddy when referring to baby, joel kisses someone who is not his partner, mention of alcohol, disturbing & semi-graphic nightmare about being involved in car accident, reader has a panic attack, discussion of dead parents, fluff and the beginnings of angst DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there's ever anything you feel i've missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 9.2k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

“I know, I know,” Joel holds a palm up, “it’s nine thirty. I know. But I had to lug all this wood over here, and it – You okay?”

You realize when he pauses that you’re gaping at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place behind your front door. Your jaw hinges shut, a gulp like carpet burn down your throat. You didn’t hear a word he just said.

How does he know? He can’t possibly. Did he sense it, from two lawns away? Dream about the binding of cells, the furnace left lit in your body from that night? The embers still floating, just waiting to catch to life again?

Did he do the fucking math, the way you probably should’ve? How does he fucking know?

The minute the question leaves your mouth, you regret it.

Joel’s eyebrows drop. “How did I know what, kid? That you need new closets? Like you ain’t been nipping my ear about ‘em for weeks?”

Your eyes unlock from his and shift to the slats of wood leaning against the balustrade. The toolbox hanging from his fist. The worn jeans and the white dust marks on his thighs. He doesn’t fucking know, you idiot.

Joel steps forward. Takes your wrist. One grounding, steady hand around your thrashing pulse. “You’re freaking me out. What the hell’s –?”

“Nothing,” you chirp, remembering. The closet. The deal. The fucking – the deal. You withdraw your arm. Hidden up your sleeve, quickly slipping out of his grasp, is the news that his life is about to change forever.

Maybe. You don’t fucking know.

“No,” you continue, blinking the burn of sunlight from your vision, “I just – I forgot. Sorry. Come in. Sorry.”

“Quit sayin’ sorry,” he mutters, eyeing you suspiciously. He lifts a foot and hovers it over the threshold, hesitating. Like the first step across a minefield; instinct telling him to tread carefully.

And you swear an oath to yourself, swear it on your own life: if he doesn’t put the heel of his boot in your hallway, if he turns around right now whether because his instinct is razor sharp, or because he forgot his lucky screwdriver, or purely because he needs to take a fucking leak before he gets started – you will never tell him. He will never know.

If his intuition is that good, he’ll turn around and never show up on your porch again. If he has any sense, he’ll forget any of this ever happened. Deal off.

“How’s the stomach?” Joel asks, sole still three inches from wood.

“What?” you bleat, your heel knocking against the bottom stair. It’s a little more panicked than you intended.

“Yesterday,” a crease forms between his brows, “you said you had a weird stomach. That any better?”

Oh, you think, and as you open your mouth to reply, his foot hits the ground. No answer needed. He was coming in whether you tried to deter him or not.

“Oh, yeah. It’s – Well, it’s better than it was. I think I worked it out,” you grimace, tongue curling under the tinge of anxiety and – well. “Thanks,” you add, noticing the brisk cut of your replies.

The heavy thud of his footsteps follows you upstairs, blunt on the carpet as you lead him up. Joel sets the toolbox down and casts your room a quick glance, snapping back to you as soon as you notice him.

You tug on the corner of the bedsheets, a heat bubbling beneath your cheeks. Something shy and self-conscious, all of a sudden. The reality that you don’t feel close enough to this man to share the anatomy of your room with him, mixed with the knowledge that the two of you are, now and forever, bound by the anatomy of something a little more significant than dirty laundry and dusty wardrobes.

A little closer than most humans get, let’s say.

“You want a coffee or something?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning back against the window sill.

“You havin’ one?”

“Sure. Wait – actually –” Can you have coffee whilst pregnant? A woman at work quit it altogether when she fell pregnant with her son. Fuck. “I’m – No. I’m good. But let me go make you one.”

Joel shakes his head, amused. Screwdriver burrowing into a door hinge already. He flashes you a tickled grin. “I’m good just now, kid. Wait until you’re makin’ one. Thanks.”

You lift a shoulder. “Welcome.”

His eyes flit from the twist of silver to your hunched shoulders, your arms crossed protectively over your chest. “You gonna stand there ‘n watch me all day? You my foreman now?”

“Sure,” you reply, and he laughs. You sniff, twisting your foot into the carpet. The plastic test itches against your skin; you can feel the two lines ripping into your wrist like tiny burns. “I can go, if you want.”

His lip turns, musing. A quick flick of his jaw. “You’re good company, all in all.”

Metal clanking against metal; fingers knuckle-deep in the toolbox. You can hear the harsh sound across your body, like the point of screws and bite of rust are actually scoring your skin. The groan of a near-fifty-year-old man rising to rip a decades-old door from its home. The creak of wood as it splits.

Everything so heightened that it’s actually painful.

Joel straightens up and pauses, turning his screwdriver between his fingers. “Are we –? We’re good, right?”

“Good?”

“Yeah. You’d tell me if things were weird?”

“Why would things be weird?”

His answer scrawls itself across his face. Your response scoffs from your lips.

“I just,” Joel sighs, “I feel like something might be off with ya. Maybe you just ain’t feelin’ too hot. But you’re quiet.”

“Quiet,” you whisper, palms locking heavily against your biceps. More defensive than convincing.

“Yeah. You usually annoy the hell outta me.”

Over your shoulder, Alice Brown waddles down her driveway, eyeing her flowerbeds. She pauses when Diane’s station wagon pulls up across the street; stands motionless as she watches the round figure climb out and totter to her own front door.

“Just – not in a very annoying mood, I guess,” you offer, staring at the white head of hair fluttering in the breeze. The glint of a trowel in her hand.

Joel’s chin lifts. He studies you, tongue tracing the ridges of his teeth. And then he’s nearing you, turning until you’re shoulder to shoulder, two silhouettes stood against the bright square of blue sky inside your window frame. His arms crossed; his stare fixed.

The words begin to boil in your stomach. Violent bubbles against the wall of your midriff. Rising like steam, fading into nothingness over your tongue, the sting of heat where your voice won’t collect them.

Joel moves from foot to foot. It feels like some kind of merry dance, some choreographed moment between you – like a skit in a comedy show. I know something you don’t know.

“What happened – at the wedding,” he murmurs, addressing the polished gold of your bedframe.

Some small sound passes your lips. An affirmative. You’re on the same page.

“We didn’t use – you know. And with you not feelin’ well, it’s…” A deep breath. Chest full of a ghostly bravery. And then he asks, “Are you –?”

Silence swallows the end of his question whole. You didn’t need it, anyway. The stiffness of his frame, his stare shooting straight ahead. The lack of oxygen between you – both holding your breath for fear that something might tear loose from your lungs. He knows. He knows he knows he knows.

You gulp. “…If I was?”

His head cranes upwards, focusing on the cracked plaster of your ceiling. The realization slowly trickling down over his skin. It hasn’t seeped through, hasn’t bled into his brain yet. “Then,” another breath, “then it’d be a conversation…” His voice is halved, split somewhere between knowing and – what is it? Hoping?

Your eyes slip over to the worn sleeve of his T-shirt, stretched around the swell of his bicep; scaling up to his shoulder, the tight set of his jaw. He’s so much taller, he’s so much older. There’s so much life lived and so many lessons learned behind his eyes that you wonder how much the news I’m pregnant would actually crack him.

Your eyes meet. You whisper, “Then – talk,” and his expression softens.

He blinks away whatever’s left of his trying, his polite attempts to skirt around it. He sheds probably a good three decades – turns back into some doe-eyed boy, wonderstruck and terrified. His voice is quiet, and at the same time, the heaviest with emotion you’ve ever heard it. “Are you?” he asks, and immediately, he blurs behind a wall of tears.

Your sentence gets caught in your teeth. It made no sense to begin with. Tangled between your molars, latching at the back of your tongue. Your hand slowly pulls free from your sleeve, the little white test between your fingers.

Joel’s eyes instantly drop, staring at the pale stick with a fraught expression you understand to mean the message has finally reached his brain. The same words now ringing between his ears: She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. I got her pregnant.

You hold the test out, quivering in the daylight. He takes it in his thumbs, instantly soothing its tremble. Everything muted, every movement steady and considered. And suddenly the sight of that positive test feels less scary, in his hands. Feels like a smaller problem, if that were ever possible.

And he says nothing, and it’s almost unbearable to watch the shape of his lips thin, the shadow beneath his brows darken. Agonizing to stand here and wonder what the next words over his tongue will be.

He stares at it a moment longer. You count the beats of your pulse in your throat. You wrap your arms tighter around your body, holding your skeleton together.

Joel’s lips part. Your breath freezes. Whatever he says, you don’t want to miss a syllable.

“Are you –” he blinks, “– are you feelin’ okay?”

You stare blankly. His eyes finally lift.

“What?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Your head jerks. “I’m – I’m fine. I mean, I’m fucking shocked.”

He nods. “How long have you known?”

“Took that right before you showed up,” you say, eyes diving to his hands. “Twenty minutes, maybe.”

He’s still switching between you and the test. Checking those two lines are still there, as if they might fade to nothing, and then checking you’re still there – as if you might, too. Might be swept off if he’s not keeping an eye on you.

His face pales. He sinks back against the window ledge. “Jesus,” he breathes, a hand down the scruff of his chin.

And it feels like relief, like a mirror sat before you, presenting the honest truth: you’re fucked, and Joel thinks so, too. It embeds the shock into the cushion of your brain, the weight of it absorbed and laid bare for every particle in your body to pay it a visit. What the fuck do we do now?

“Yeah,” you sniff, “Jesus.”

But then his arm wraps around your shoulder, reminding you you’re still solid. Still whole. He holds you to his side, and when you turn into him, he takes you in the other and pulls you flat against his chest. His lips to your hair. His breathing slowing yours.

“We’re gonna work it out,” he says into your hair. “We’re gonna – Jesus, I did not expect…We are goin’ to be fine, alright? You are goin’ to be fine.”

You’re nodding, the prickle of tears flooding across your eyes again. They’re doing nothing, his words – blunt against your skin and insignificant to the fear swelling around your heart – but it feels better to be afraid with someone. Feels better to hold onto something stronger, something bigger, while you feel yourself beginning to shrink.

“What do we do?” you ask into his shirt.

Joel loosens his grip, pulls away until you’re staring at one another. “What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t…” Your head’s shaking, lips moving quicker than your voice will offer the words over. “I don’t think I want to get rid of it.”

He nods, a hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Alright. Then you don’t have to. You don’t gotta do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with.”

“But,” you sniff, guiltily averting his gaze, “this fucks everything up. Everything’s about to change.”

Joel takes a long, slow breath. “It complicates some things, that’s for sure.” He looks out to the street; Alice Brown now hauling weeds from the edge of her lawn. In his exhale, he breathes a name.

“V…What?”

He looks down. Eyes dance around your damp cheeks. “Vanessa,” he says, clearer now.

“Vanessa?”

A nod. His nose wriggles with an awkward sniff. You push off from his chest.

“Who the hell is Vanessa?”

Joel lets you go; lets you step back. He watches as you brace yourself against the ledge. Runs a hand through his hair while he fixes the right order of words. He’s thinking. Carefully.

Too fucking carefully. He’s taking too long.

“Joel. Who’s Vanessa?”

“She’s…” He sighs. “She’s my ex. From Tommy’s wedding. Vanessa Hart.”

Your jaw slackens. The purple dress. The hair like silk, a halo around her head where the light kissed her perfectly. Her plump lips; the way her head tipped back to laugh. The amount of air you felt her take up the second you laid eyes on her, the second you saw her, arm on top of Joel’s.

“Vanessa,” you whisper, your eyes descending his frame. The memory feels menacing now: her sweet giggle a sneering cackle, and you’ve no idea why. The bulky jewels around her neck, her clawed fingers on his arm.

Joel’s hand sits inches from yours on the wooden sill. Alice is walking back inside.

“We, uh…we swapped numbers the morning after the wedding, at breakfast. I didn’t think much of it, but we’ve seen each other a couple times since.”

This isn’t the time for another it’s a date, it’s not a date argument. What the fuck does he mean by –

“Seen each other?”

“Mhm.” He owes you better than that. He reckons so, too. “Dates,” he clarifies. “We’ve been on a couple dates.”

“Oh.”

Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. Plummets, dragging with it your breath and your nerve and any other words you can think of. Your chest gnaws at the edges of the cavity left behind. It hurts. It stings.

Though you’ve no right for it to hurt or sting: as far as you were concerned, as far as you think Joel was concerned, that night was a one-off. It meant as little as the alcohol draining from your glasses, the vacant buzz of love and hope loose in the air. Equally as intoxicating as each other.

Cataclysmic, for the first little while. So heavily awkward that you would wait to watch Joel head out in the morning, clear of your path, before you’d set off for work. It felt like the aftermath of some natural disaster – the cleanup of debris and mistake.

But oh, it feels like a punch to the gut. Low, unexpected; a foul move by someone who never meant to hurt or not hurt you. Someone ignorant to every move he made, right up to this moment.

Your arms wrap around your body again, as though tending to the bruise left by the sucker punch shaped something like that tall woman named Vanessa.

Joel scratches the back of his neck. “We were…we were seein’ about starting things up again. Me ‘n her.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I got you. That’s – I mean, I’m – I’m sorry, Joel, I –”

“Woah, woah,” he’s stepping forward now, “hey, no. No way. This wasn’t you. Well, shoot – it kinda was you. But it was just as much me, right?”

You smile, your face back in the safe hold of his hands. Tears roll down your cheeks, collecting in the corners of your mouth. His thumbs swipe them away.

“This was just as much me,” he repeats, voice soft and soothing.

“But, you know – if you wanted to – just ‘cause I don’t want to get – so if you didn’t wanna have to – that’d be okay, you know that, right?”

His head snaps back, brows low. It’s the first time he looks like his cool has broken all morning. It’s the first time he looks…downright offended. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, and then, “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I just – I know this ain’t ideal. It’s even worse if you’re tryna make it work with Vanessa. So if you felt like it was too much, then…”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up,” he says, edged with some kind of groan. “Stop talking, right now. Stop. You gotta take a deep breath, alright? I’m here, ‘n I mean I’m here. We’re in this together. I am not running out on you.”

“Joel –”

What was a mere crack in his cool before, rips through it now like lightning spreading across the sky. He closes his eyes, a sigh escaping between his teeth. “If you think I would leave you right now, to deal with this on your own –”

“I don’t,” you tell him, his vexation powering your sudden animation. You wipe your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m just saying, it’s a fucking lot. I don’t want you to feel trapped. I’m giving you an out, man.”

“I am not interested in taking it. Enough. Conversation over.”

“And what about Vanessa?”

“What about her?” he asks, the question dripping in something akin to anger. He catches himself, draws it back in. “She’ll just – We’ll talk, I’ll explain it. The hell else can we do? One thing at a time, okay?”

“Right,” you nod, “okay. One thing at a time.”

“Let’s just build these damn wardrobes. I sure as hell didn’t lug all that timber over here to not do ‘em.”

“Okay,” you repeat, making for the door.

“Ah.” He clicks, and you turn back. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”

“To get the timber.”

“I don’t think so,” he says, pointing to your bed. “Sit down. Relax. You ain’t getting a damn thing.”

Joel calls it a day at six o’clock.

The skeleton of the closet is up: a smooth, tan frame lining one wall of your room. Much bigger, much sturdier than its predecessor.

You’re in the same spot he left you in: lying across your bed, admiring his handiwork. He’s good at what he does. You told him twice, and the two of you almost heaved both times. Compliments aren’t something you’re used to handing one another.

He left, maybe, three hours ago. Said he had to shower; said he’d be back first thing to finish the job. You sat up to see him out, got struck by a wave of nausea so bad that you fell back to the bed with one hand on your stomach and the other over your lips, and Joel had insisted – demanded – that you stay where you were.

I’ll be back later to check on ya, he assured, setting a glass of water at your bedside. And then he told you to call him if you felt even remotely off – sick, or panicked, or had a tickle in your throat that you couldn’t clear – and that’s when the two of you realized that you don’t even have one another’s numbers.

And you laughed, the both of you; laughed at the absurdity of you carrying his child when you don’t even carry his contact details in your phone. Laughed at how quickly everything has turned one hundred and eighty degrees in the few hours since you woke up. It felt like some form of release, the only way to clear the blockage of tension in both your throats. So, you laughed, until you felt sick again, and Joel swept the hair from your shoulders to cool you down.

The attentiveness is…new. It’s interesting. It’s kind, in the same way that being told to say hi to whoever your grandma is talking to in the grocery store, is kind. Sweet, the same way that answering the door on Halloween to a bunch of kids you don’t know from a street you don’t recognize the name of, is sweet.

Whatever. It’s fucking weird, alright?

You’ve never seen this side of Joel. You didn’t know or even think, in your wildest dreams, that he existed. Let’s face it: you two have spent the entirety of your inhabitance next door to one another, antagonizing each other. Your favorite hobby has always been pissing Joel off – teasing him for having backache, seeing how far down his porch you can launch his newspaper and he’ll still go get it. Playing the same kind of music you heard him playing on his guitar that one time, full-volume from your kitchen window just to fuck with him.

And, likewise: his favorite hobby has always been…well, ignoring you. Doing everything he can not to engage. If it weren’t for that fucking cat lady and her jittery green Chevrolet, none of this would’ve ever happened. She was a catalyst where one was neither needed nor wanted. You would’ve gone about your life, pinning your underwear only slightly more carefully to your clothesline, and Joel would’ve gone about his, doing – whatever the fuck he does.

Sure, it’s weird. But it’s nice. It’s nice to have him on your side, turning to check on you rather than snap at you for something. Nice to have him talk – actual, rounded words in place of grumbles and mumbles and groans and sighs. Nice to hang out with him and watch him work and ask questions about screws and power tools and pretend to be interested just to distract from the weight of queasiness in your stomach.

Your hands trail down, cupping around your navel. Your stomach still feels like your stomach: still soft, still spongey under your touch. If not for the two more tests you’d taken this afternoon, perched on the bathroom counter waiting for Joel to unstick his gaze from his watch and announce, That’s three minutes – both also positive, by the way – you’d have no fucking clue.

You hold the bottom half of your tummy, fingers rubbing gently over the skin that will soon enough grow and swell and protect.

“Hey,” you whisper, staring at the stationary ceiling fan overhead. A pause. An awkward inhale. “…hey, little buddy. I don’t – know you very well, yet. I figure you can’t even fucking hear me, but whatever. Just wanted to say hi. I’m – Ew, no. I’m not Mom, yet. What the fuck. I don’t know who I am right now, so just…maybe go easy on me until I figure that part out. And after, too. Alright? Are we…we cool?

“You can’t tell me, I know. I just have to assume we’re cool. Okay. Well. Keep growin’. Keep…doing your thing. You’re doing great. We’re doing – we’re doing alright.

“Good job, kid. Good job.”

Joel tells Vanessa two days later. She takes it…about as well as you might hope.

He says they talked for four hours. Three cups of coffee and a drive to Taco Bell later, she agreed to meet you. Properly. Not across the cluttered dancefloor of Tommy’s wedding.

She –? Is – is that a good idea?

I don’t know, kid. It’s the best I’ve got.

Meet me? Like, come kick my ass for sleeping with her boyfriend?

Joel had sighed and deadened his eyes on yours. Not her boyfriend, he corrected, passing you a sweater folded a little slapdash for your liking, and wasn’t her boyfriend when we slept together.

You shook the sweater straight again and fixed his work, muttering to yourself that at least he’s a better builder than he is a folder.

Joel heard you, and let it go. Passed you another – unfolded – sweater to sit in your wardrobe. Let’s just see how it goes, alright?

Alright.

We’re really trying this again. It’s only been a couple weeks.

Okay.

And neither of us have had much luck in that department since we broke it off, y’know?

Joel. I said okay.

He held your gaze a moment too long. Okay.

You’re on your porch when he strolls over, wrist blocking the six o’clock sun from his eyes. Newspaper in his fist, wind licking the corners. “Forget somethin’ today?” he asks, meeting you at the top of the steps.

“Came out to get it,” you brace yourself on the railing, “felt sick. This is me workin’ up to it.”

“You want me to toss it back onto my lawn so you can go fetch me it?”

You smile, eyes screwing shut. “Was coming over to ask what time for tomorrow.”

The reminder snaps him from his happy daydream. He says, “I was comin’ to ask you the same thing. Seven work?”

“Seven’s good. Are we getting food?”

“You wanna get food? I figured maybe you wouldn’t be up for it, what with the, uh…” Joel gestures to your hunched position, your head low between your shoulders, your deep, deliberate breaths.

“Maybe just drinks,” you utter, gulping back the sharp taste of bile.

He nods. “Drinks it is. You okay? You need anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks. See you guys at seven.”

Four minutes early, there’s a knock at your door. You pull it open, and there they are. Picture-perfect, like they might be posing for a holiday card. A bottle in his arm, a bunch of flowers in hers. A timid but genial smile between her cheeks, a twinkle in her eye. That same circle of shining light around her head, brunette tresses curled into bouncing waves.

“Howdy,” Joel says, stepping into the space you create. He dips his head, kisses your cheek, whispers a brief, Y’okay? in your ear. You nod quickly, gently shifting him out of the way.

Vanessa lingers for a moment in the doorway. She glances from Joel to you again, blinking in the porch light. Her pale skin lit in an ethereal glow. She’s prettier up close.

Joel addresses you, hand brushing the small of your back, “…this is Vanessa.”

“Hi,” she says, and pushes the flowers towards you – a small bouquet of gypsophila and eucalyptus. Bright, polite. Each sprig laden with the burden of appearing simpatico, but important. Meaningful, in the airiest sense of the word. “Hi,” again.

“Hi,” you echo, and then feel stupid for having nothing more to offer. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, hot on your shoulder.

But Vanessa takes the weight from your chest. “It’s nice to meet you – officially. I saw you at Tommy and Maria’s wedding. You looked so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” springs from your tongue sooner than the rest of the sentence. Your brain scrams to find more words. “You looked – you looked great, too. Do you wanna –? I mean – Sorry. Come in. Obviously.”

She clicks over the threshold, her pale dress floating into your hallway like she’s part of a dream. She’s just as beautiful in this light, relaxed form – pastel blue and the glimmer of golden jewelry – as she was in the sleeker, more dramatic form you saw her in before. An aura about her which captures and tends to your attention. Intense, captivating, but not intimidating.

You usher them to the living room, offer them a space on the couch while you take Vanessa’s flowers to the kitchen. Joel follows you through, sets the bottle on the counter.

“Nonalcoholic,” he says, unscrewing the cap.

Your eyebrows jump. “Great. Thanks.”

“She’s nervous,” he murmurs, leaning in. “I know you are, too. Y’all are similar like that.”

You slot the stems into a vase of water one by one, carefully organizing a display. “She seems sweet,” you assure him. “She shouldn’t be nervous.”

“Neither should you.”

“Is this…totally weird for you?”

Joel breathes in deep, filling three glasses. “Yeah,” he says, eyes never lifting from the sparkling peach.

“Sorry.”

He angles his jaw. “Stop sayin’ you're sorry. I’ll kick your ass.”

Your head drops between your shoulders, eyes lifting only to his elbows. “Sorry.”

He scoffs, swiping the glasses and stepping back to let you out first.

“I’m trying not to make it weird,” you offer, slipping by.

“I don’t want you to try anything.” He kicks your ankle lightly and follows you back into the living room.

Vanessa sits forward and clasps her hands around her knee when you sit back down, shifting as though to reach for you before she stops herself. “How are you feeling? Joel said you’re a little…worse for wear, right now.”

“I’ve been better,” you say, smiling. “Just morning sickness. Which lasts – all day.”

She nods sympathetically. “My sister had it rough with her first. I actually…” She twists around, reaches for her purse, fishes out an orange packet. “I brought you some ginger tea. Kate told me it helped her a lot, so.”

She holds it out in almost trembling fingers. Likewise, you steady yours to take it from her, thanking her with a shy nod of the head. “That’s so kind,” you reply quietly, eyes darting to Joel. He’s staring at the pack in your hands, watching as you turn it over to read the back.

“And – listen,” Vanessa continues, the acceptance of her offering clearly fueling her assuredness, “I don’t want anything to be weird – between you and I, between you and Joel. I know this situation is…new. It’s, um…”

“It’s kinda weird,” you say, humoring. “It’s okay. I know.”

She breathes a relieved laugh. “It is. Thank God you said it.” She glances back at Joel, who smiles at her, slips his hand onto her knee. “But I guess,” a deep breath, “I guess it is what it is. And we’re all adults, you know? We can make it work, right?”

Your head switches rapidly between nodding enthusiastically and shaking enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yes. No, absolutely. And, you know, me and Joel – there isn’t – we’re not at all…”

“Oh,” she bats the idea away, “I know. I know that. He told me everything. It’s – You know, it’s just a timing thing.”

Joel’s staring down at his hand locked around her leg. Unblinking. Unmoving. His expression doesn’t shift until the two of you settle back into your seats; until Vanessa asks if he’d mind making you a cup of ginger tea.

You barely notice his absence, the way she takes you up in conversation. Like twirling you off in some kind of dance, each sentence strung safely to the next. There are no lulls, no awkward pauses. She asks about work, asks about your family. She tells you stories about her niece, who’s three now, and compares how you’re feeling to how she remembers her sister feeling.

Then her work, and the IT guy her friend hooked up with, and her class at the gym which she’s trying to convince Joel to come along to, and Kate’s hot yoga class every Thursday night, and the new sushi place which just opened downtown and You gotta try it some day; the nigiri is divine.

And you nod along, and you laugh at her anecdotes and tell your own, and Joel tells her to tell you about the jazz band who were playing at the restaurant they visited a couple weeks ago, and you offer to top her drink up and she says she’ll do it herself and she leaves you and Joel alone for the first time all evening, and – it’s weird.

Because – behind the veil of conversation you’re doing your best to uphold, sits an image of this very night – only, in Joel’s house. In Joel’s house, on Joel’s couch, drinking nonalcoholic wine with Joel’s brother. Joel and Vanessa leant against one another on one couch, Tommy and Maria on the other.

You can’t help it – you’re wondering what Maria thinks of Vanessa. How long they knew each other, if at all, before the breakup. Whether they hung out, whether they discussed sushi and yoga, or the housing market, or their Miller boyfriends and their annoying Miller habits.

Maria would’ve liked her, you think. Would’ve found her as lovely as you do. And the idea, the image of them giggling together at family parties and being Tommy’s Maria and Joel’s Vanessa – presses a firm, bullying finger into the bruise you thought had faded some from the other day.

And once they’re gone, once you’re left alone again – lying in still silence, closed in on yourself by the thick darkness of your room, nothing but you and your thoughts and your unborn child for company – it slips out.

“Fuck her, right?” You hold your hands out, addressing your stomach. “She was so fucking nice. Did you like her? Fuck me, I liked her. I hope they break up.”

And then, realizing who you’re talking to: “No. Sorry, baby, no. I don’t hope they break up. I want your dad to be really happy. But – Goddamn. She was so sweet. I thought she was gonna slap me, and she just – she brought ginger tea! Fuck. They look good together, don’t they?”

It’s just hormones. Just the emotional trip that is being four weeks pregnant. Everybody feels like this when they fall pregnant – sensitive, vulnerable, clingy. Right? Right?

Your words sit stagnant in midair. You swear you can see them, heavy and intruding. Awkwardly lingering someplace they don’t belong. Because none of it even matters – the hormones, the emotions. The weird knot burning a hole in your chest, shaped like a clenched fist, knuckles branded by the heat of longing. It can’t matter.

You’re where you are, he’s where he is. A pillow in your arm, Vanessa in his. Feet apart, bricks and mortar and something like twenty years and two dates too late separating you.

Both staring up at the ceiling, wondering who the other’s thinking of.

“At eight weeks, your baby is roughly the size of a raspberry.”

Your knee bounces, breath coming and going in shaky ripples. The rubber sole of your shoe cries against the sterilized hospital floor. Your chest hums anxiously and your throat catches when you swallow and are the lights too bright? The room too hot? You’re sweating. Why are you sweating? Can you breathe right now?

Joel nudges your arm and your eyes roll to the pamphlet in his hand, his finger tracing the words. “C’mon,” he utters, leaning in, “how can anything the size of a raspberry be scary?”

You squint under fluorescent white. “A raspberry that grows into the size of a watermelon, can break my ribs, make me throw up, make me lose hair, and then tear my vagina apart on its way out? That’s pretty scary.”

He smirks. “Not to me it ain’t. My vagina stays perfectly intact the entire time.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you reply, whacking him.

He laughs, swatting your palm away, keeping ahold of your fingers inside his own. “Speaking of – we gotta talk.” He elbows you, waiting until you’re looking again to speak. “We gotta cut the language.”

“Cut the language?”

“Uhuh. Rein it in. And by we, I mean you.”

“Uh,” you scoff, “I don’t think so. When you do the growing, then you can rein your own swearing in. Leave me alone, asshole.”

“Charming,” Joel says. “You know the baby can hear you? You want it to come out swearin’ like a trooper?”

You grin, tipping your head to him. “If it comes out and says anything, we’re rich. So – yeah. Let it.”

He opens his mouth to reply when a nurse emerges from a nearby room and calls your name.

“You’re up, kid,” Joel says, standing beside you.

You turn back, speaking before your brain settles on words. “I’m scared.”

“Hey,” he says, taking your hand. He squeezes it gently, uses the other to keep you facing him. “This is the easy part, right? We’re just going to meet them.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, and wander over to meet the nurse. Joel’s hand a vice grip around yours.

She leads you into a similarly washed-out clinic room, only slightly dimmer with the lights turned out, and yanks a roll of paper across the bed. Tapping it twice, she smiles. “Hop up, darlin’.”

You settle into the crinkly paper, leaning back until you’re blinking up at the speckled ceiling. Another door opens and a woman in a white coat floats in, and you swear that if it weren’t for Joel’s Evenin’, ma’am when she greets the two of you, you’d believe she were a figment of your imagination. Another character in this fucking insane dream.

“Not often I do these past five o’clock,” she says, clicking her mouse and typing on her keyboard and fixing a hair grip back into her bun. Casual. It’s not even a thing to her, introducing parents and children. She does this all fucking day.

Joel tosses half a glance to you and then realizes you’re not currently in the room. He pinches your hand again. It grounds you for all of two seconds.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat, “work commitment. I couldn’t get away any earlier, so we’re havin’ to do this a little late.”

“What do you do?” she asks, staring at her screen. Her glossy brown eyes and rich, dark skin.

“I’m a contractor,” Joel replies, thumb stroking your shoulder.

Something bubbles in your stomach, something akin to jealousy, an urgency to tell her that right now, in this room, he’s mine. No more questions. Something which quickly dissipates when you remind yourself to quit being fucking ridiculous and that right now, in this room, he’s someone else’s, and the thumb on your shoulder is merely to hold you back from fleeing. Nothing more.

The sonographer nods. Her name badge reads Freya. Pretty name. Stop picturing what your kid would look like as a Freya. You are not naming them after the first sonographer you meet.

“Shouldn’t be too long, then y’all can get home for the night. You live nearby?”

“Twenty minutes’ drive. Not far, are we?” Joel asks you.

Your eyes shoot down to his. “No,” you push your cheeks up, telling Freya, “not far.”

She flattens her lips against one another, lending you a sympathetic smile. “You got nothing to worry about, honey. Promise. Gel might be a little cold, that’s about as scary as this gets. We’re just gonna make sure everything’s looking good, check your dates, check your measurements. You’re doing great.”

“You hear that?” Joel murmurs, settling down into the chair by your side. His hand hasn’t left yours. His voice is low, meant just for you, when he repeats, “You’re doin’ great.”

You huff a laugh, some nervous release from your lungs.

Freya smiles, face lit by the faint glow of the screen in front of her. “We ready?”

You roll the hem of your tee up when she motions, bunching it under the wire of your bra. She squeezes a bottle over your stomach, which tenses solid when the frozen bite of gel curls right below your belly button. Freya smiles apologetically when you wince. Told you, she murmurs, and your breath escapes in a slightly more comfortable laugh. Lighter, easier. Scariest part over.

She presses the probe to your skin and spreads the gel, coating the bottom of your tummy in a slippery slick which tickles with each inch she covers. Two buttons pressed, and a dark image appears on a screen opposite you.

A gray fan, speckled like the ceiling above your head. Dark, black shapes growing and shrinking at the turn of Freya’s wrist. She pauses, two blobs onscreen: the larger, black, round, home to a smaller, misshapen one. Flecked with white and silver and moving slowly, gently, but – right there.

“Mom, Dad,” she grins, “meet your baby.”

You and Joel move forward at the same time, drawn closer to the crunchy image as if by some kind of natural magnetism. Eyes never blinking, lips agape. The shapes flutter, the smaller dipping in and out of view.

“You see right here, right in the center?” A white cross appears over the blob’s middle. “That little movement? The kinda – pulsing?”

You each nod. Your nails dig so deep into Joel’s hand that you risk drawing blood.

“That’s the heart. Ticking away.”

“The heart?” you ask, watching the rhythmic flicker in the center of the screen.

“Yep. Perfect, too.”

She hits another key and suddenly the room is filled with a muffled thudding; a steady, energetic pulse in your ears. It matches the movements onscreen, the tiny throb of the baby’s chest, the shape of your womb moving like waves before you.

And suddenly, it's real – all of it: the screen and the room and the sonographer and you, and Joel’s hand encasing yours, holding your knuckles to his lips, and –

And the heartbeat. Right there, right in front of you. Shy, probably as nervous as you are to introduce themselves. Feeling your eyes on them, curled up somewhere safe inside you. Right there.

You turn to Joel, and his illuminated face is staring straight at the screen. Eyes soaked with tears, blinking as they form, cheeks dappled with wet. He draws his eyes from his child only to look back at you, only to mirror your stunned smile, your disbelieving laugh, more tears dripping down into his beard. He sits up, presses his damp lips firmly to your forehead.

Freya mutes the heartbeat, pauses the scan where the image is clearest, and sits back. “I’ll give you guys a moment to yourselves,” she says, wheeling back in her chair. “Take all the time you need. I’m right outside.”

“Thanks,” Joel mumbles for the both of you, sweeping hair from your face.

The door closes on your little bubble – you, Joel, and the grainy image of your baby. The evidence that – yeah, that night happened, and yeah, you’re forever changed because of it. The evidence that you’re about to become a mom, for real, no matter how much the thought makes you feel like your stomach is kicking around at your ankles.

And the evidence that, no matter how scared you might be, how unprepared and unworthy you feel – you fucking adore that little blob already.

Love it as much as Joel does, stood over you, kissing your hair and whispering words you’re only half-listening to. A quiet thank you, a shaky I can’t believe it. Something about showing his brother. And when you look up at him, blinking at one another, inches apart – he takes your jaw in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Different. Softer. No want laced through. No urgency. Nothing needed, nor requested, that isn’t already right here in this little bubble of yours.

He kisses you slowly, eyes closed, holding you until you pull away for breath. His nose bumps against yours and you laugh, heads together, eyes low.

“Still scared?” he whispers.

“Terrified,” you tell him.

“Me, too,” he says, and kisses you again.

You lean back against the bed, relief settling your bones and soothing your heartbeat. The notion washes over you that, if you could, you’d stay in this room forever. Staring at the screen, holding Joel’s hand. Whispering fears into his mouth and letting him swallow them in a kiss.

He hands you some paper towel and helps you drag it across your stomach, your eyes still fixed on the little shape opposite. He hooks his chin over your head – the fresh, woody smell of his cologne infiltrating your lungs and throwing you under the haze of something you’re not quite sure how to define.

“Duck,” he says, voice vibrating into your skull.

“Huh?”

“Start saying duck. Make the baby think we’re saying that, then you can say –” he lowers his voice, “– fuck, all you want.”

“The hell would I have to say duck for?”

Joel stands upright and shrugs. “I don’t know. Think of somethin’. A nickname, maybe.”

“Duck?”

He nods plainly, glancing over to the screen.

The pillow beneath your head sighs as you turn from Joel back to the ultrasound. “Baby Duck,” you offer, and he smiles.

Smiles in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile. Eyes glistening, cheeks swollen. Something innocent and earnest about it. Something pure.

He agrees. “Baby Duck it is.”

Joel insists that you spend the night at his place.

“It’s been a big day,” he reasons, fixing the bed in his guestroom. “Just – let me run around after you for a little bit.”

You fight your corner as much as you can be bothered – I gotta maintain my independence, I’m gonna be a single mom soon enough, you know – but, truthfully, you’ll take any excuse to have him rush around at your beck and call. Some days you open your mouth and he hears the wet click of saliva between your lips, and grabs a glass of water for you before you’ve even voiced the request.

He orders takeout, settles shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the couch, and lets you pick whichever movie you feel like putting him through until the food’s gone, he’s out of beer, and you’ve abandoned Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles for an argument about the best part of pizza.

You don’t like the crust?

Nope.

What fuckin’ age are you?

If it ain’t stuffed, it’s just not worth it.

At eleven, you bid him goodnight and wander upstairs, falling into a sea of navy-blue sheets to be delivered to sleep by the serene silence of Joel’s home. It takes no time for your eyes to flutter closed, the soft sheen of moonlight painted across the wall, sweeping from your view to be replaced in a whir by –

Lights. Overhead and all around and so bright and so close that you swear they’re etched on the inside of your eyelids.

You’re in the backseat, watching them soar by in blurs of white and red and amber and green, and your pulse is rattling through your veins and throbbing between your temples and you can’t focus on any one object for longer than three seconds, before your eyes roll and your head dizzies.

A word, slung from your lips in a half-wakened attempt to stop it. A word you barely recognize at first, don’t understand the meaning of. It’s been years. Why now? Mom.

You’re not sure why, or who you’re even reaching out to. There are two figures in the front seats, heads facing forward. She’s not turning around. She’s not even fucking moving, not reacting to the speed or the lights or your voice. Mom.

You scream it, the syllable ripping violently from your throat, and your tiny fingers reach for her swirls of hair. You pause, staring at the chipped polish on your stubby, kiddy nails. Mom, I’m scared.

The distorted blast of a horn scoops the car up in one motion, hurtling over itself along the freeway. You’re thrown to the roof of the car, plummet back down to your seat; the seatbelt throttles you, rips a burn deep into the skin of your neck. Back up again; your head hits the spongey roof of the car. Your stomach somersaults.

Mom, please, you wail, swiping for her hand. It’s lying limp by her thigh, dark droplets on her wrist. Mom Mom please Mom I’m scared Mom please I’m so scared I –

“Baby.”

His voice is low, earthy. It chews apart the high-pitched squeal of brakes and screaming. The glass smashing. The metal crunching.

You lift from the bed like it’s ice water, gasping when you finally surface back on Earth. Your chest heaves, it’s not sucking in enough breath; you can’t breathe you can’t breathe you can’t fucking breathe.

Joel whips the cover from your legs and you roll from the mattress, feet planting on the floor. You bend forward to grip onto the sheets, a choking rising up your throat, closer and closer until it tugs on your tongue.

“Icantbreathe,” you pant.

Joel’s body curves around yours. “You’re alright,” he’s telling you – urging you; one hand between your shoulder blades, the other holding your wrist for fear you might collapse. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re at my place, you’re safe, but, kid – I need you to slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”

You work your breathing to the strokes of his hand up and down your spine: in out in out in and out and in and out and in, and out, and in, and…out…and in…and…out.

“That’s it. Keep doing that. You’re good, baby, I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

In – and out. In – and out again.

The room slowly desaturates back into boring, moonlit blue. Feeling sputters back into your hands, clawing at the sheets once the sharpness dissolves. The cotton pets back, smooth under your quivering touch. Your lips stop tingling, your ears stop ringing. One after another, until your blood settles back to a steady stream and you straighten up.

“Can you sit down for me?”

“No,” you whimper, and Joel nods.

“That’s alright,” he says. “I’m gonna get you a drink, that okay?”

You grab his T-shirt. “No. Don’t leave me. Please. Sorry.”

He cups your frozen cheeks. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Just downstairs. You can come.”

He settles you at his kitchen table and shuffles over to the cupboards, rubbing his eyes. You feel the heat of embarrassment and guilt, watching as he settles down with a groan minutes later.

“Ginger,” he tells you, voice rounded by his mug, sliding one of your own over to you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, lifting it with two hands. The smell sharp, cutting up the remnants of gasoline and smoke.

“Many times do I gotta say it?” he asks dryly. “Quit sayin’ you’re sorry.”

You gulp nervously. “You got work in the morning. You’re gonna be exhausted.”

“And if I hadn’t let you keep me up watchin’ chick flicks, I’d be rested. That’s something I can deal with later. I got you to worry about right now.”

You shake your head; the ceramic hits the table with a sharp thud. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Well,” Joel sniffs, “you’re carrying my child. I’ll always worry about you.”

You sit back, the curve of the chair cradling, your heart beating lamely against the wood. Joel’s jaw rests in the cushion of his palm, staring back at you.

“What time is it?” you ask, and he glances over his shoulder.

“Three. Take a sip.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sip.”

You obey, lifting the tea and swallowing harshly.

He watches every move, every shift reflected in his dark eyes, decorated by a tense, stony expression. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Never,” you say. “This never happens.”

Joel cranes his jaw, cracks his neck. “Alright,” he sighs, “that’s okay. Breathe again. You’re doing fine.”

But you don’t feel fine. The dregs of panic sizzle into something thicker, hotter. Anger. Frustration. “Why the fuck is this happening?” you hiss, fingers prodding into your eye sockets. “What the f–?”

“Easy. I don’t know. Hormones? Stress?”

“You sound like my fucking doctor.”

Joel smiles. Amusement, before concern wipes over it again. “Let’s just give it some time to pass, okay?”

You nod, hanging over your drink, the silhouette of your reflection staring back at you. The steam snakes up, seeping into your skin, bubbling under the surface. Wiping clean any memory of freeway or nail polish, like coating over a bathroom mirror. The shapes still visible behind, but blurred. Gone.

“How’s Vanessa?” you ask, an attempt to distract yourself.

Joel adjusts a little awkwardly in his chair. “She’s good. She loved the scan photo. Showed it to her sister. They’re sure it’s a boy.”

“Ha. Joel Jr.”

“Joel Jr.,” he agrees, and then attempts to distract himself. “So,” he says, “Allandale.”

“Mhm?”

“Wonder if I ever saw your mom or dad. When I was there visitin’ Sam.”

You shrug. “Doubt it. I mean, they always lived right next to the elementary school, if that helps. My mom was a first-grade teacher. The two of us used to walk there ‘n back together, every day.”

“First grade, huh? Best one.”

“Yeah. Yeah, and she was the best of the best. She used to go all out for her kids; used to go to Michaels and get all this crafty stuff so they could spend all afternoon making little houses or zoos, or – whatever she could think of. And she’d always keep some aside, bring some home for me to make one, too. One time, she came home with all this blue tissue paper and little foam fish, and we made an aquarium together.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Joel says.

“Yeah,” you say again, nodding eagerly. “She was so cool. And fun, y’know? I just remember her being so much fun. I always felt safe with her, felt loved. I actually used to think she hung the sun every morning, just for me.” You take a deep breath, replacing it with a broken sigh.

“What about your dad? What was he like?”

You frown. “He was…fine. Real quiet, reserved. A little grumpy, I guess. I always got the idea he couldn’t be bothered with me, young as I was. Always wanted to be left alone. I think my mom overcompensated a lot.”

Something flashes across Joel’s face that seems to say he knows – or, at least, he understands. Almost imperceptible, a quick flicker of annoyance. “You miss her?” he asks, switching back.

“My mom?” You almost laugh, gripping onto your mug. Staring at the slow swirl of ginger. A shrug which presents more like a flinch; an animal swatting a fly away. “I miss those parts, when I think of them. The aquarium, the walking to school. Miss the memories. But I don’t think I knew her well enough or long enough to miss her.

“I’ve lived way longer without her than I ever had her. Done everything without her, like –” gesturing down, “– this. But, sometimes…sometimes, I bundle the sheets up behind my back in bed, and I pretend it’s her. Pretend I have a mom, and she’s cuddling me to sleep. I dunno. Maybe that’s what missing her feels like.”

Joel soaks in every word you say, letting the shape of each one settle on the table between you before he speaks again. Letting them be spoken into the dead of night, collected by no one, and letting them fade into silence. Secrets sweeping off into starlight. Nothing you would admit in the daytime.

“What was her name?” he asks, voice timid and gentle in the dark kitchen.

You almost choke on your tea. “Shoot – I’m sorry. That was a lot. Sorry. She, uh – Her name?”

It brings the first genuine smile to your lips; the memory of your mom now clear behind your eyes. Her round cheeks, her fluttering earrings. The deep, dark curls of her hair, thick ringlets twisting and lighting in the sun. The gap between her front teeth, the purse of her lips as she kissed your cheeks, your hands, your tummy.

Her name like a melody in your head; a safe word, a calming mantra when the world becomes too noisy, too saturated, too sharp to bear. Two syllables. Two little beats, like a piece of her still lives in the sound of her name.

“Sarah,” you tell Joel. “Her name was Sarah.”

#*hits post*#*throws laptop from bridge*#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel miller #neighbor!joel #babydaddy!joel miller #babydaddy!joel #tw pregnancy

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fxrmuladaydreams · 7 months

Text

use me (mv33)

max x reader

summary: max needs a way to take his frustrations out, you offer yourself to him

notes: !! contains smut minors dni !! i have other stories in the works but as a max girlie this took precedent, it had to be done after watching the singapore quali

You were on the edge of your seat watching the remaining 15 cars zoom around the track. Both the Red Bulls had been having issues during the weekend, not driving as fast as they had been in previous races.

You watched as your boyfriend, the reining world champion, made his final lap in Q2, scoring fairly low, and just falling further down the list as other drivers crossed the line. Liam Lawson of all people was the one to push Max down to 11th. You had to admit the kid was talented, but you knew Max was going to be very unhappy with the results.

You knew you were right when you saw Max get out of his car before they had even pulled it into his garage. He stormed away, pulling his helmet off his head as someone practically had to chase after him.

“He’s going to be pleasant.” A voice pulled your attention away from the scene in front of you.

Christian stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his headset now resting around his neck.

“He’ll be fine.” You tell him, however you know just how explosive Max can get when he doesn’t do well.

“You should go see him, calm him down. He won’t kill you.”

You snort. “Right.”

“Think you can calm him down in the next 30 minutes?” He asks.

“I can try.” You stand up to start heading in the direction Max walked off in.

You find him sitting in a corner, drinking from his water bottle, his eyes trained on the ground ahead of him.

You stand next to him and run a hand through his hair. While he would usually lean into you, craving more of your touch, he doesn’t react now, unmoving from his current position.

“How are you?” You ask, in an attempt to tread safely.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “I’m great, how are you?” He doesn’t hide the sarcasm in his tone.

You tilt his chin up so that he’s looking you in the eyes. You can practically see the anger swimming around in the blue eyes you fell in love with.

“You know the press are going to eat you alive if you walk in with that attitude.” You tell him.

He rolls his eyes, and looks back down ahead of him. “They’ll be cheering, dancing on my grave.”

You glance down at your watch. 25 minutes until Max will be needed for press. 25 minutes to bring back your happy Max.

“C’mon.” You take his hand, and slowly pull him up.

“Where are we going?” He asks, following you.

You lead him back to Red Bull hospitality, taking him up to his driver’s room. It’s small, a massage table sits in the corner, a shelf against the wall with more race suits and fireproofs.

“You need to get your anger out before you go do press.” You tell him as you lock the door.

“What, do you want me to throw things around the room?” He asks with his hands on his hips.

“I want you to fuck me.” You tell him, your voice completely serious.

He looks shocked for a moment. The two of you were always pretty private in your relationship, never showing too much PDA, and never having sex anywhere outside of your home. His shock soon dissipates, and turns into thoughtfulness, as if he’s thinking about the risk versus the reward.

You walk towards him in the center of the room. Your hands lift to his shoulders, softly massaging them before your arms wrap around his neck. You lean your head towards his, softly nudging your nose against his. He already looks like he’s losing his self control, his eyes watch your lips as you whisper to him.

“Use me, Max.”

He dives down to kiss you, his lips firm against yours. There’s no asking for permission for his tongue to enter your mouth, it pushes past your lips and tangles with yours.

You grip onto his hair as he hoists you up on the massage table. He stands between your legs, trailing his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of teeth marks on any skin he can find.

He tugs your shirt and bra off, flinging them to some corner of the room, desperate to have access to more of you. He travels down your chest, his lips wrapping around one of your nipples, teeth softly biting at it while his fingers find the other, pinching at it. After he’s satisfied he switches to the other, continuing his work.

Your pants and underwear are the next to come off as Max trails his fingers along your center. He smirks when he feels your hips move to meet his hand.

He pulls a whimper from you when his thumb brushes against your clit. He kneels down, pulling you to the edge of the table and lifting your legs over his shoulders. His hands press down on your abdomen to keep you still as his tongue laps over you.

His nose brushes against your clit, send a jolt to your hips. His hands press down harder on you as his eyes look up to meet yours. They’re a stormy blue now, his pupils enlarged and eyelids hooded.

“Stay still.” He says, his voice low and rough.

His tongue is quick to continue prodding against you, slowly pushing inside you as you let you a long moan. One of your hands flies to his hair, tangling itself in his light brown locks, as your other keeps yourself propped up.

Your taste is sweet, one of his favorite flavors really.

“You taste so good mijn liefje.” He softly moans against you as he eats you out, his nose now bumping your clit over and over until you cry out his name, cumming on his tongue.

This only encourages him, as he takes everything you give him. Your body is tired, exhausted from keeping yourself upright, ready to collapse on the table.

Max stands up and it’s only then you realize that he’s still in his clothes, his race suit still hanging off his hips, while you’re completely bare in front of him.

“I’m not finished with you yet schat.” He shakes his head as he pulls you upright to kiss you.

You can taste yourself on him, but it doesn’t matter to you, not when he’s kissing you the way he is. It’s all tongue and teeth and it’s messy, but still so good.

He pulls you off the table, your legs slightly wobbling beneath you. You’re surprised when he turns you around, keeping your body trapped between his and the table. You hear his clothes move around some more, the thick fabric of his race suit rustling around, then you feel him softly kick your ankle with his leg.

You spread your legs for him, wide enough to allow him room, but still close enough that you can stand comfortably.

He reaches a hand around you to feel between your legs.

“Think you’re wet enough to take me?” He asks. Max has always been a caring lover, even in his dominant moods he still checks in with you.

“Yes Max, please fuck me.” You lean forward against the table and push your ass back against him. You can feel his cock press against you as he grabs onto your hips.

He fists himself a few times before lining himself up with you then pushing in.

The stretch is a lot but feels so good. Max stills for a moment, leaning down to press a kiss against the flushed skin on your back.

His sweet demeanor quickly turns back to his dominant one though, slowly pulling out, then giving a harsh thrust back into you. You try to grip onto the table for dear life as Max pounds into you from behind.

Your moans aren’t quiet, yet neither are his grunts. The door being the only thing blocking you from the rest of the Red Bull team is the farthest thing in your minds at the moment.

He wraps an arm around your middle pulling you up so that your back is pressed against his chest. He’s still wearing his fireproofs, only having pulled the pants down far enough so that he’d be able to bury himself inside you.

The new angle causes him to sink even deeper in you. You feel so full, so consumed by Max.

He grins when he feels you clench around him. His right hand travels over your body, squeezing your breasts before stopping over your neck. He wraps his hand around it, putting a slight pressure on it as his other drops back down to where the two of you meet. He finds your clit, and rubs quick harsh circles into it.

He lets out a low laugh as you clamp down even tighter around him. He leans his head down, his lips brushing against your ear as he teases you. “You like that? Does that feel good?”

Your mind is so clouded over that you can only moan in response.

“Oh, you can’t use your words? You’re just dumb for my cock huh? It’s a good thing you’re so pretty.” He bites down on your neck, sucking a dark hickey onto it. “Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me again?”

You nod your head, feeling something tighten in your core for the second time tonight.

It only takes a few more rough thrusts before he’s got you cumming again, his name falling out of your mouth like a prayer.

The hand on your clit moves to your hip so that he can control his movements. His release follows as his thrusts become sloppy and erratic. You feel his warm cum fill you up as he holds himself inside you. He keeps himself there as you both come down from your highs. He softly presses kisses to your back as you catch your breath.

You hiss when he slowly pulls himself out. His hand falls away from your neck as he uses both to make sure you don’t collapse to the floor. He turns you back around and lifts you back up onto the table.

He finds a towel and spreads your legs to help clean you up. The sight in front of him causes his cock to stir with interest again, his cum is seeping out of you, trailing down your thighs. Your skin shines with the layer of sweat that’s coated your body. Your chest rises and falls with every deep breath you take. Your neck has several marks along it, fresh hickeys to show what you’ve been up to.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asks, throwing the towel away to a corner of the room.

You give him a lazy smile. “Not at all. I really enjoyed that.”

“I love you.” He says, helping you back down from the table.

“I love you too.”

You’re both quiet at you get dressed again. You still feel a little wobbly on your feet, but are beginning to regain your balance.

“So do you think you can handle the press without chewing anyone’s head off?” You ask him as you both head to the door.

“Oh definitely.” He grins.

He wraps an arm around your waist as you leave his driver’s room and head back to the main area of the paddock.

Max gives you a quick kiss before he separates from you to do his post qualifying interviews, leaving you with the rest of the team.

When Christian spots you he sighs. “Y/n… no…” he says as he looks at the marks along your neck and the way your legs shake if you stand in one spot for too long.

You shrug. “What? You told me to calm him down.”

Needless to say everyone was surprised when Max was calm cool and collected during his interviews.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #formula one #formula one x reader #mv33

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vivalabunbun · 1 year

Text

On the complexities of relationships and words

Summary: For two people that love to read, words seem like a complex.

Word Count: 13k (yeah... this is slow burn, might want to get a drink and snack)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Slow Burn, Smut(r18+), NSFW, MDNI, Fluff, Angst kind heavy?, Modern AU, Omegaverse AU, A/B/O relationships, slow fic, marriage, arranged pairing, dubcon, themes about not liking yourself, TW: gender dysphoria (you don’t like your secondary gender), TW: Very vague and brief mentions to possible past domestic trauma, Jealous!alhaitham, slight yandere!alhaitham, mutual pining, miscommunication, breeding, biting, ruts, Alpha!alhaitham, Beta!reader. You agreed to the pairing due to tax benefits. A lot of references to literature.

Authors note: This is my first attempt at slow burn and yeah... I got carried away. I want to explore how slow alhaitham would open up and how love can come from the mind instead of the heart. Enjoy.

Side Note: here is a little dabble

Love, an emotion that sets the heart on fire. An all-consuming emotion that feels as if one was falling off a cliff while also being embraced tight by the treads of fate. The emotion that’s only separated by a thin line from madness. Or at least, that is how it’s been described to you through books and movies.

With love being the inspiration for so many poets, artists, and heroes throughout all of history, it comes as no surprise that you found yourself curious about it. It started out innocently, you would listen to the latest romantic ballads from the wandering travelers along the streets of Sumeru. In the nation of wisdom, books were plentiful yet you found your teenage self buying certain novels from Inazuma. Then came the films from Fontaine which you’d spend a week’s worth of pocket money on.

What first began from your childish curiosity became a hidden infatuation. You wanted to feel those emotions described in those songs, books, and movies. So you began your journey to seek it out. Your first relationship filled you with a certain rush, an excitement to finally experience a scene from those novels you loved… but you were only left with disappointment.

Kisses felt bland, holding hands felt awkward after too long, and eye contact uncomfortable. There were no lingering thoughts that kept you up at night, no pink haze of pinning, nor a spark that set your chest ablaze. The breakup didn’t come as a surprise, and even so, it didn’t leave you with those gut-wrenching heartbroken sobs into the pillow as you’ve seen in the movies. Just disappointment.

Perhaps it's because you were basing your expectations on relationships you can never experience. Those songs, those books, those movies? They were all about the bond felt between Alphas and Omegas.

The maddening ruts and needy heat that left your cheeks flushed when you read about them. The touching gestures of scenting, the descriptions of the additive aroma of their beloved, their fated mate. The marking that proclaimed to the world their undying love. You’ll never experience that… since you’ve presented as a Beta.

The worker ants of society, the largest class sandwiched between Alphas and Omegas, the extras in their movies. The category of society that can neither produce nor reciprocate pheromones, the population that lived in mediocrity in the eyes of romantics.

Of course, love was possible for Betas, after all in a population that makes up the majority, there will always be the few that find ‘true love’. But that’s an advanced scholarly topic up for debate, with the societal consensus being that it’s the lowest tier of love. All pairings with Betas belonged in this tier.

Alpha-Alpha, Omega-Omega, and at the very top of the tier list of ‘true love’ was the Alpha-Omega pairing. After all, love scientifically is created by chemical bonds in the brain with oxytocin, the love hormone. Pheromones kicked the production of oxytocin into overdrive, creating an addiction that makes a person long for their lovers every hour of the day. The chemicals that create the fire of romance you once wished upon shooting stars for.

Thankfully with time, as you matured into an adult you resigned yourself to your fate. You found solstice in your one advantage as a Beta over any Alpha or Omega: True independence. Free from the chains that are primal desires brought on by pheromones, your head was clear, decisions not dependent on the fever that was love.

You had given up on searching for love, hey, if you set the bar on the ground then there was less risk of being let down. So that’s why you agreed to your parents’ suggestion of an arranged pairing. To be matched to a life partner by a matchmaker.

“Eh? Isn’t that practice kinda outdated?” Dehya questioned.

“Don’t the city folk use the akasha system, using genetics for compatibility or something?” Your Alpha friend carefully tucked away her compact mirror.

“Actually, I think that’s really romantic! The traditional way matches you by personality and lifestyle compatibility.” Nilou grasped your hands, wishing you luck.

“I agree, old fashioned doesn’t mean it's ineffective. It’s still very much practiced in Aaru Village.” Candace sent a slight side-eye to your other Alpha friend across the table.

Perhaps your Alpha and Omega friends were trying to cheer you on, but frankly, they didn’t need to. The next day when you met with the older woman, you went through the process with a sense of boredom. When answering the matchmaker's question, you stated you just wanted a life partner that was honest, loyal, and respected your individuality.

Next, the matchmaker asked about your interests, you recalled all the literature you used to consume during your obsession with love, and embarrassed by your fruitless past endeavors you answered books.

“What kind of life do you seek, my dear?” Her wrinkly hands intertwined as she leaned on the table.

“A peaceful, quiet life.”

And that was it. She wrote down your responses with a bejeweled quill pen, handwriting beautiful and neat as if she were penning down a poem for you. You were free to go home. Walking down the streets of Sumeru, the dusk birds singing to their lovers, you didn’t even wonder about the Beta she was going to pair you with. You had a full day of work tomorrow, what you really wanted was a full night's rest.

So a month later, you couldn’t hide the bewilderment on your face as you stood in front of a tall Alpha, the partner the matchmaker had deemed a good fit. From his piercing teal orange eyes to his sliver hair to his towering physique, everything about him was the picture-perfect definition of an Alpha.

‘Alhaitham’ was his name, and you must admit it fit him quite well. His face remained unchanged even after his mesmerizing eyes passed over your form quickly. You couldn’t read the lack of expression on his face, was it disinterest? Indifference? Boredom?

A part of you wanted to take your parents to the side and whisper in their ears that the matchmaker was a quack. Who in their right mind matches an Alpha with a Beta? Before you could do so, the matchmaker lead your parents out of the room, giving the two of you some privacy to get acclimated. A heavy silence hung in the air as your bodies stood a respectable distance apart, deciding to break the silence you first stated the obvious.

“I’m not an Omega.”

“I’m aware.” His deep voice sent a small shiver down your spine. Even his voice was beautiful.

“I don’t have any pheromone, meaning I can’t bond.” You glanced up at him.

“I never listed it as a requirement.”

His answers only seemed to confuse you further, perhaps he didn’t think this through all the way. Sure, the matchmaker revealed that both of you wanted peaceful lives, liked books, and believed firmly in one’s individuality. But there was a massive sumpter beast in the room as the saying goes.

“Aren’t you worried about… that time of the year…”

For the first time, his eyes met yours, you quickly shifted your eyes away.

“Are you referring to ruts? Medicine has advanced quite a bit, there are now inhibitors that can regulate pheromones and ruts. Not that you would know, of course.” He huffed out.

You couldn’t stop your eyebrow from twitching in annoyance. Ah, he’s also got that Alpha ego. You were still confused, from the look on your face he quickly deduced it as well.

“I dislike disruptions to my life. Primal desires are just disruptions. To put it bluntly, you as a Beta don’t release pheromones nor go into bouts of unsuppressed lust. Significantly reducing the risk of interrupting my time. You value individuality and are very independent, you’re very unlikely to bother me with trivial matters. All these factors add up to a peaceful, quiet life. Simple isn’t it?”

When he laid out all the reasons so clearly on the table, it’s hard to not note the truth, Alhaitham is a weird Alpha. Perhaps that’s why his grandmother enlisted the help of a matchmaker in her will.

After that day, you took home a folder full of documentation on him. Under the golden light of your desk lamp, you sorted through the information in front of you. He had no criminal record, he owns his own house close to the city, and he held a stable job with a very attractive salary.

You ponder the decision for about a week, weighing the pros and cons. Marriages in Sumeru are often encouraged with sizable tax deductions, more money in your own pocket. Employees with spouses have an easier time requesting paid time off, more money in your pocket and less work. He lacked any familial attachments, meaning no in-laws to deal with. One extra point for being very easy on the eyes too.

You ultimately signed your name on the marriage documents at the city hall, right next to his emulate penmanship. Right there under the fluorescent lights of the government office, the two of you recited your vows. The only other people in the room were your parents and the clerk filing the paperwork.

Within the next few months, you’ve carried the boxes filled with your belongings from your cramped apartment into his spacious house. Your old light novels and romantic collection of poems are now placed on a bookshelf adjacent to his. Bright and artistic covers contrasting against bland academic journals. Of course, there was no honeymoon, no break from your regular work schedules. There was no reason to.

In the first year of your marriage, you viewed him with suspicious eyes. You valued loyalty in a life partner and even though he stated he dislike pheromones and primal urges, he was still an Alpha with such natural responses. Yet, you observed that he came home every day at 5:30 pm on the dot, not a single hair out of place nor a single crease on the collar of his button-downs.

You found him to be a decent housemate, calm, quiet, and respectful of your space. Chores were divided equally between the two of you, making the shared living space organized and dust free. Of course, he was only human thus he also had some flaws.

Sometimes your foot would knock against a stack of books he had left on the floor near the numerous bookshelves throughout the house. Or how you noticed your shampoo and conditioner bottles emptying at an alarming rate, does he not know how expensive haircare is?

Alhaitham deemed you a good fit for a life partner. You weren’t disruptive nor dependent on him in any aspect. You spent your own money responsibly, a diligent person who followed a set work routine without needing any reminders.

You would alternate responsibilities for dinner, but he found your food more flavorful. You threw together ingredients with no regard for measurements, only going off what felt right, compared to his style of calculating the precise amount a ‘pinch’ was.

Of course, it’s expected that you’ve got some quirks that made him tsk internally. It was small insignificant things. Like how sometimes he would find strands of your hair left in the shower drain. Or how you often tuck his books back into the nearest shelf, not caring about if the genres matched or not.

“I commend your artistry. However, a mural made from your hair on the shower wall is unnecessary.”

“You’ve got shorter hair than me, how are you using double the product?”

“It’s all due to your perception, I’m not using any more product than you.”

“Oh?~ Then I guess the hair on the wall is all just your perception too.”

When living with another person there will always be bumps that needed to be smoothed out. But overall, life was peaceful and quiet just how the two of you liked it.

Alhaitham was Alhaitham, and you were you. Two independent individuals only connected by paper and law. Perhaps the only couple-like aspect of your relationship was sharing the same bed. Of course, this was done only out of necessity.

The only other room in the house with a bed was the guest room, even so, there was still an imbalance. The mattress was much smaller and firm when compared to the grand bed in the master bedroom.

He didn’t snore and neither did you, you didn’t toss and turn in your sleep and neither did he. With two separate blankets, he deemed that sharing a bed with you wouldn’t cause any disturbance to his sleep. You two had more than enough money to afford another bed, but just the thought of rearranging the furniture to accommodate it was too bothersome for the both of you. There was more than enough room on the bed for two bodies to sleep without ever touching.

No loud passionate fights nor lingering glances and maddening touches. Just the calm lull of normalcy. But you were satisfied.

By your second year with him, you’ve gotten acquainted with the nuances in his manner of speech. In particular, his sarcastic quips that you’d return with vivacity.

“Mmm, I appreciate the attempt. But I’d rather my books be sorted by subject rather than by instinct.”

“There’s faster ways to collect my life insurance than by getting me to trip over a book, Haitham.”

During this year, the two of you also began to use more familiar terms to address each other. Instead of your name, he’d simply call you wife, and you shortened his name. Husband and ‘Haitham’ had the same amount of letters anyways.

When the date of your courthouse wedding came around, nothing happened.

No flowers, no shiny gifts of jewels, not even a sweet dessert. After all, he found it silly to spend so much effort on a singular day instead of placing that enthusiasm into every regular day of life.

Birthdays shared the same sentiment, you’d be invited out by your group of friends to a celebration planned by Nilou, while Alhaitham would stay at home with his books.

“Happy birthday.” You placed a cup of freshly brewed coffee down in front of him.

“Thank you.” Besides your statement, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Hopefully I’m one year closer to collecting your pension.”

Alhaitham has to admit he does enjoy your sardonic humor, but you’d never be able to tell just by looking at him. He took a sip of his coffee, by year two you finally learned how not to scald the coffee grounds when doing a pour-over.

Life continued on, and the two of you were still like parallel lines traveling in the same direction side by side and separately.

It’s now the third year of your marriage. You were currently busy in the kitchen, Alhaitham had just informed you earlier there’d be guests coming over tonight. Fortunately, it’s a Friday which meant you had a half day at work. Quickly purchasing ingredients from street vendors on your way back.

He never had any guests over before, so you assumed that these guests must be important people from work.

You even made sure not to use spices that were too fragrant, just in case any of the guests were extremely sensitive to smells, as Alhaitham had informed you they were all Alphas. Tachin was a rather simple but delicious dish to make. You also picked fresh ingredients that would make a very quick and satisfying salad.

Your husband didn’t particularly like soup, but he doesn’t have the right to be picky when you’re the one rushing to cook enough food for five people, so minty bean soup will be on the table. He had a collection of wines in a separate room, you’ll leave the wine selection up to him.

Just as you finished setting the plates and dishes on the table the chime of the doorbell went off. Wiping off your hands and taking off your apron, doing a quick once-over in the hallway mirror before answering the door.

“O-oh… You’re a… Beta…”

The blond Alpha in front of you had a look of bewilderment across his handsome features. Rudy eyes peering down at you in astonishment as you maintained a polite face.

“Oof-”

An elbow was jabbed into the blond’s side as a shorter dark-haired man signaled for him to shut up.

“Thank you for having us over for dinner.” His friendly face gave you a smile.

“Welcome.” You invited all the men in.

The bewildered blond at the door’s name was Kaveh, the dark-haired man was Tighnari, and the white-haired man with the intense gaze was Cyno.

You familiarized yourself with their names, and from time to time you felt their eyes passing glances over at you as they made small talk. Alhaitham was currently picking out a few bottles of wine.

“So, you’re actually his wife… Ah! Of course, it’s no fault of yours. I’m just shocked he’s actually married, I thought he was bluffing when he said he had a wife. There were no signs… Ugh! Great, I owe drinks now.” Kaveh sighed, face in his hands.

“Alhaitham doesn’t want others knowing too much about him. But the proof is right in front of our eyes.” Cyno leaned his elbows on the table.

Ah, it makes sense that people at his work wouldn’t know about you. There weren’t even rings to distinguish the relationship. Usually, relationships nowadays were sensed through the presence of pheromones on the bodies of lovers. However, you were a Beta with no pheromones to cling onto his person. There’s not the slightest chance he ever talked about you. The two of you were also never seen in public together, so in the eyes of many Alhaitham is still a bachelor. There was a slight churn in your stomach, was the soup upsetting it?

“Gossiping about me while sitting in my house and right in front of my wife?”

Alhaitham’s deep voice mysteriously made the knot in your stomach go away, or maybe it was the way he referred to you, ‘my wife’. He placed the bottles of wine and glasses on the table.

“It’s nothing major. We’re just surprised someone is willing enough to stand your arrogance.” Kaveh crossed his arms.

“Unwed people should not have any comments on other’s relationships.”

“Hey! Why you-”

“Huh…” You pondered out loud.

The attention of the men in the room was all on you now.

“Oh, pardon my interruption. I guess I’m just in awe that my husband has friends.”

In an instant laughter ripped through the air.

“Bwahahaha! Alhaitham, I like your wife already! Ahahaha!” Kaveh was laughing so hard tears were forming in his eyes.

Tighnari had one hand gripping the table and the other covering his mouth as he tried desperately to suppress his snickers, ultimately unsuccessfully.

“Well, I’m not sure if friends is the ‘correct’ term.” Cyno’s voice was steady, but you could see the small shakes of his shoulders.

“I’m beginning to wonder if inviting guests to the house was the right decision.”

Still, the dinner continued and the drinks started to pour. After your statement from earlier, the atmosphere at the table became more lighthearted aided by the help of alcohol.

“So, what’s the occasion?” You asked as you took a sip out of your glass.

“Huh? Alhaitham! How did you not tell your wife about your promotion?” Kaveh nearly spat out his wine.

“There’s no reason to dampen her mood with bad tidings.”

“Bad?!-” You wondered if the blond’s voice could shatter the glass in your hands.

“Keeping your cards close to your chest, even from your wife.” Cyno side-eyed your husband.

“Not at all. Not that the unwed head lawyer would need to know.”

“Tsk.” The tan Alpha crossed his arms.

“Now, now just because he didn’t tell his wife doesn’t mean Alhaitham’s a bad husband.” Tighnari tried to dispel the tension while also landing a subtle jab.

“Mmm, congratulations, Haitham.” You swirled your wine.

“Thank you.” Your husband replied.

The three Alphas looked at each other, eyes sending silent messages. They must find your marriage to the ashen-hair Alpha strange. Alpha-Beta pairings were already against convention, but it seems like the two of you matched each other's pace. Two weird people found each other.

After dinner was finished and you bid goodbye to the guests at the front door.

“Be grateful you stone-faced brat… Your wife’s got... too good to be stuck with your stale…”

The two shorter men carrying the blabbering blond off your front steps.

“He’s quite the lightweight.” You briefly mentioned while over the sink.

“I’m just grateful there’s still wine left. Go rest, I’ll get the dishes.” His larger frame takes up the space at the sink, silently encouraging you to move away.

So you left clean-up duty to him, a fair trade for making you cook a feast so out of the blue. As you stood under the warm water pouring over your body in the shower, your mind began to replay the conversations over dinner. They made you realize just how little you actually knew about your own husband despite living under the same roof for three going on four years now.

Once he stepped foot outside of your shared space he was practically a stranger. What was his job like? Who were his friends? What were his favorite places? Hell, even in your house, he was still a stranger. What books is he reading now? When does he find time to work out? What does he do when you leave the house? This realization made you shiver, as you turned the knob to increase the temperature of the water.

It wouldn’t hurt to try and get to know him a little better.

One Sunday morning, you walked into the living room greeted by the sight of him reading one of your old light novels. Seeing his large hand hold the bright book, decorated with a pair of lovers embracing, while his eyes studied the text like his academic papers was almost comical… If only you didn’t wish to sink through the floor in humiliation. He must’ve lost interest in his own books, or maybe he’d gone through his whole collection.

Either way, to prevent such an occurrence from happening again, you began to pick up some books for your husband on your way home.

‘Metaphysics’, ‘Epistemology’, ‘Quantum Mechanics’: those seemed like topics that’d interest him, you reasoned as you stood in line to purchase them. Your eyes caught sight of a certain book, ‘le rouge et le noir’, on a whim you decided to add it to the stack of heavy books. Not for your husband, but rather for yourself.

That night you handed the books over to him as he was about to go to his favorite reading spot on the couch.

“What’s this for?” He stared at the stack of thick books in your hands.

“Just passed by a bookstore and figured you might need something new to read.” You gestured for him to take them.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way to gift this to me. Thank you, I shall read them.” His low voice indifferent as always, finally taking the weight out of your hands.

You proceeded to move over to the smaller sofa in the living room and plopped down. Pulling out the book you had purchased earlier, you glanced up at him eyes questioning why he was staring. Alhaitham cracked open one of the academic journals you gifted him and averted his teal gaze.

This was a break from your normal routine, but you felt like it’d be a nice change to get back into reading. It also gives you the opportunity to learn more about Alhaitham by spending more time in his presence. But more importantly, it would allow you to keep an eye on your husband to ensure he doesn’t go snooping through your bookshelf again. Maybe you should just donate them, but no library in Sumeru would ever accept them.

Soon that break from routine became the norm. Every night after the kitchen table was cleared, dishes cleaned, and bodies freshly towel dried you and Alhaitham will sit adjacent to each other enjoying quiet reading time. The soft light from the tall floor lamps and soft flicks of turning pages adding to the ambiance of the room.

From time to time, you can hear the sound of him writing some sentences down on a notepad. So he likes to take notes on the books he reads. You learned something new.

Another new fact you gained from your observations of your husband was that he reads fast, really fast. He had already finished all three books before you were even halfway done with yours. You had to act fast lest his teal eyes begin to wander towards your bookshelf again. So, you found yourself back at the bookstore once more. Picking up any thick academic journals on topics ranging from ancient ruins to the newest peer-reviewed breakthroughs.

Maybe you should also pick up some notepads and sticky notes, you saw how thin the pad had gotten last night. It just so happened that the romance section was right by the shelves of stationeries. The book from Fontaine you had bought on a whim was in your opinion more psychological than romantic. However, the romantic elements present seems to have reignited your interest in the romance genre.

Oh well, you were grown enough now to not be so easily swooned by poetic descriptions of love. You picked the first book whose description piqued your interest and added it to the basket.

One of the first lessons taught to the children of Sumeru was to be cautious when putting out campfires. If not killed correctly, the unseen smoke can make fallen leaves catch fire. A small flame grows into a hellish blaze that consumes whole acres of forest.

“Thank you very much. Again, this isn’t necessary.” Alhaitham still took the books out of your hands.

The small notepad on top of the stack caught his attention, his teal eyes looked into yours with a questioning glance.

“Your notepad’s running out, and there was a sale.”

“I see.”

From time to time during your quiet reading session, you would glance up, a part of you hoping to see Alhaitham use the new stationery you’ve just bought him. A frown tugged at your lips when you saw he had set it to the side in favor of his old, thinning notepad. Maybe the color isn’t to his liking.

You continue to buy stationeries for him. Any fancy notepads or post-its that caught your eye at a store, every time you give them to him, he would thank you. Then proceed to never use them. Perhaps, the ones you got were too fancy? He seemed to like simple and practical items. Next time you got plainer ones, just simple squares of plain paper, he still left them untouched.

Maybe, you needed to find higher-quality ones. But if he didn’t like them then why does he keep accepting them? Should you try your luck with pens instead, he does go through quite a few. Ah, the sentiment from the very first time you met him still rang true to this day. Alhaitham is a weird Alpha.

He was an enigma to you.

You were an enigma to him.

Alhaitham wasn’t sure when it started, but his mind grew curious about you. Perhaps it’s because he read through his collection of books, or maybe because things at work have been dull lately. Thus, he deduced it was only logical that you started to pique this interest in a bored mind. You lived in the same house and slept in the same bed. With you constantly being in close proximity, of course, he will want to learn more about you after more than three years together.

One of the best ways to start studying you would be to start with your bookshelf. Alhaitham vaguely remembers you saying that you were interested in books, yet in all these years in the same space he hasn’t ever seen you touch your own shelf. What a pity, he could’ve used the extra space for his own books. Running a finger along the row of books, stopping on a random one he made his decision.

Your taste in literature is, how should he put it, very different from his own preferences. The descriptions of the actions taken by the Alpha main character and his Omega lover were idiotic, to say the least. The lengthy declarations of the love and affection they held for each other, and the sentences riddled with exaggerations and rhetoric. The romance between the characters was the priority of the novel, thus the plot suffered greatly from it.

In his opinion, the book was a mess. Yet, he didn’t once feel as if he had wasted his time. Alhaitham discovered a new side to you, is this the type of novel that interests you even as a Beta? The soft taps of your feet suddenly paused as it rounded the corner into the living room. Alhaitham looked up to see a tense look on your face as you stared at the novel currently in his hands.

No words were exchanged between the two of you as you continued to stare, looking at the book then back at him. It was only for a minute at most, yet it felt a lot longer before you turned on your heels without so much as a word. It was brief, but Alhaitham thinks he saw the tips of your ears flush. Oh, did he stumble upon a guilty pleasure of yours?

His actions must have been the cause of this deviation from routine, Alhaitham concluded while staring at the stack of books presented to him. Even on birthdays and holidays, gifts weren’t regularly exchanged between the two of you, so this was certainly a surprise. You were looking at him with eyes urging him to take the heavy books from your hands. He couldn’t refuse the offer.

What came next was even more of a surprise, you sat on the usually empty sofa and pulled out a book of your own. The cover was different from the ones lining your bookshelf, the colors were much simpler, he also notes that the book comes from Fontaine. You were quiet and focused on your own novel, it didn’t cause any disruptions to his sacred reading time so he didn’t say anything about it.

Soon your curled form on the sofa became a regular sight to see. Every now and then you’d readjust your position, trying to find a comfortable way to hold your book while also relaxing. Alhaitham subconsciously scribbles down brief notes on the book he holds in his other hand. Yet this time when he looked down, he had recorded this small detail about you on the paper. He felt your eyes glancing over as he swiftly crossed out what he had just written.

A few days later you gifted him more books along with a new notepad. Now there's an unequal exchange happening. You have now gifted him many items, and he has yet to give you anything in return besides a simple ‘thanks’. What should he give you? Alhaitham pondered the question for a bit.

He realizes that he doesn’t have a firm grasp on your likes and dislikes. Should he try books? No, he’s not familiar enough with your taste in literature to confidently gift a book you’d enjoy. If there was something that you liked, you’d just buy it right then and there with no hesitation with your own money. He thought about it a bit longer.

When you came home from a particularly tiring day of work you’d often have a small take-out bag in your hands. The frown on your face would melt away the moment you pulled the padisarah pudding from the bag. Alhaitham opened his eyes, he has found the gift to give you. But from which cafe did you get that dessert?

“Oh?” You looked at the padisarah pudding currently on the kitchen table.

“It’s for you.” Alhaitham didn’t look up from his book.

“Thank you. Actually, I have something for you as well.” You began to dig through your bag.

Alhaitham glanced up to see you present him a new notepad and a stack of stick notes, the green paper embossed with gold detailing. He hasn’t even touched the first notepad you had gifted with a pen, and here you were giving him another. Now the current gift balance is even more off.

You took your first spoonful of the pudding, his teal eyes secretly peeking at your expression as you processed the flavor. You furrowed your brow slightly holding the spoon in your mouth, then shrugged your shoulder as you took another bite. Your face didn’t light up like when you ate the ones you bought.

Tsk, this means Alhaitham bought it from the wrong store. He knows he could simply just ask you which place made your favorite pudding. However, he finds the opportunity for experimentation in front of him more interesting. He wonders what faces you’ll give for each variation of the dessert.

He gained more knowledge about you, you have a sweet tooth. He already guessed from your fondness for a certain dessert, but those were a treat for once in a while. You liked fruits, often snacking on them when you were bored on your phone, or as a late-night snack when reading.

“Mmmh.” You looked down at the zaytun peach in your hand.

“Is something the matter?” He asked, placing his cup of coffee down.

“Which vendor did you get this peach from?” You looked over at him.

“Why? Is there something wrong with the quality?”

“No, I like it. It’s got the right amount of firmness and sweetness.” You took another bite.

Alhaitham made sure to only get zaytun peaches from that specific vendor.

Currently, the head secretary was facing a small dilemma. On his desk he has amassed quite a collection of stationeries. All in part thanks to you, he took some of the notepads and sticky notes to his office, your gifting habits slowed when it looked like he was using them. The ashen-haired man could not pinpoint where this sudden obsession of giving him stationeries came from.

Although, he has to admit it is quite amusing to watch the expression on your face as you watched his every time you handed over a new office item. It reminds him of a cat presenting its owner with shiny objects it had found, waiting for its human to react. But the current gift exchange ratio is still off.

His teal eyes scanned the report that had been placed on his desk earlier in the morning, there were a lot of important details between the lines on the pages. He should list down the details on a note before passing it on to the CEO. A hand reached towards the pile of post-its on his desk, courtesy of you, before it stopped.

‘It would be too much of a waste to use good quality paper for such a tedious task.’ He reasons as he used one of the subpar post-its provided by the office.

Dropping the report off at the CEO’s desk before he headed out for his lunch break. Walking to his favorite cafe, a familiar flash of color caught his eyes, a florist was selling potted pardisarahs. You did always seem to admire the colorful flowers that decorated the top of the dessert.

He stood there on the street contemplating the plant. Padisarahs are fickle flowers, needing a specific blend of soil and precisely measured amounts of water. Too much sun and the fragile petals will burn, too little and the vibrancy of its leaves fade. He concluded that he didn’t want to bestow such a hassle on you.

Returning from his lunch break to his office, Alhaitham was greeted by a great violation of his personal space. Covering his desk were stacks of new proposals and applications, those weren’t out of the ordinary. But the colorful squares plastered all over each new proposal were:

Please approve these proposals secretary Alhaitham! They are very important! ASAP

Here are the calculations of the research funds for next year, take a look at them - T

Alhaitham you better approve my application this time, the project is already delayed and I filed this paperwork twice! If you have any respect for your senior then approve this as soon as possible! - K

Head secretary, these are the new amendments to company policies. The legal team is awaiting your approval before we proceed with the implementation. - C

They used the stationeries that you had gifted him to write nonsense. They had the gall to ask him for favors after they touched his desk without permission and wasted such pretty paper.

Every proposals on his desk got thrown in the trash without so much as a glance. Nothing got approved, next time they should carefully consult his listed work hours outside the office.

He didn’t think he’d have to make a sign that said ‘do not touch the items on my desk’ to a workplace of grown adults, but he was very much contemplating it now.

Later that night, his annoyance from earlier in the day melted away once he cracked open the new book gifted to him. Your form comfortably wrapped in a light quilt as you cradled yours. The minutes turned into hours, the silence comfortable like the heat from a fireplace. A soft snap echoed through the room, your hand moving towards your face from the corner of his eye.

“Is something the matter?”

“Mm? Oh, no. The ending was just sad.” You wiped a tear from your other eye.

He learned something new about himself today, he didn’t like seeing you cry.

You really should’ve known better. Like Icarus, you’ve flown too close to the sun. The glue binding the wings of maturity and sanity you’ve crafted started to melt and fall apart, causing you to plunge down. Falling back into the obsession of ‘love’. What started as just one book, turned into two, turned into four. Now your once sparsely populated shelves were crowded with new romance titles of all sorts.

“You’re rather late today.” Alhaitham’s voice made you freeze in place.

Why did the living room have to be so close to the front door, maybe you should’ve snuck back in through the back door. Sneaking back into your own house, did you revert back to a teenager while in your fourth year of marriage?

“Sorry ‘bout that, I got caught up with friends.”

That was a blatant lie, your poor friends were dragged into your mess all because you couldn’t be honest. You weren’t in their company, no, you were in the theaters watching a film alone. But how could you ever admit to him that as the Alpha and Omega lovers danced on the screen, you pictured your faces over theirs?

Alhaitham acknowledged your explanation with a small hum, never looking up from his book. Good, because you were certain if he did, he would’ve seen right through your lie.

Was your handsome husband the spark that rekindled your obsession? Or was it the stories you’ve been consuming that made your heart thump harder in his presence?

You weren’t sure which was which, but you couldn’t deny the truth you’ve buried. You were in love with Alhaitham. It was an undeniable fact. From the beginning, you’ve always liked him. His quiet demeanor, his baritone voice, and his teal-orange eyes. But now you were in love with them, every aspect of him. You hated how helpless it made you feel.

But you secretly liked how good it felt. After years of dormancy, you finally felt it, the rush described to you in those stories. That can’t sleep love, that delicious burn of pining, the itch in your chest as you laid in bed next to him. Two quilts defining the unseen boundaries of personal space, you longed to creep over it but you lacked the courage.

What does he smell like? The same shower and laundry products were shared between the two of you. But that is not what you meant. What did his pheromones smell like? Was it a cool fresh scent, cool like the minty streaks hidden through his ashen hair? Or was it deep and woodsy? Maybe he smells like the pages of an old library book.

You used to pity your Omega classmates, for you knew the stigma and inconveniences they will face in their lives. However, right now you envied them to the point of nausea. They knew what Alhaitham’s scent was, but you don’t. Why did you have to be a Beta?

The demon known as insecurity you thought you’ve left behind was actually lurking in your shadow the whole time.

Maybe you should check yourself into the Bimarstan, the fever of love feels as if it’s melting your brain. His gaze felt piercing now, his accidental skinships seared your skin. You had no one to blame but yourself, Alhaitham is not at fault, you were the one who fell into the fire as he sat in his place on the couch unaware. Even after four years you still couldn’t be honest with your own husband.

Feelings were never discussed because he believed you had a mutual understanding that this was for convenience.

You can’t tell him you wanted more. How can you tell him you wanted more? There’s already a wall four years in the making, too great to overcome.

‘I need to rein myself in’ Alhaitham thought as his eyes followed your figure through the crowd below. It was a slow Friday at work so he decided to walk away from his desk, arriving at an overpass that looked over the streets of Sumeru. Something compelled him to look below, and under the golden sun there you were, and by your side was another Alpha.

Dehya is her name, a good friend of yours that you introduced once before leaving for a birthday celebration. A good friend who had the privilege to ruffle your hair and loop an arm around your shoulders as she ushers you into one of the many stalls filled with glittering trinkets.

His hand tightened its grip on the railing, why did she have privileges he was denied? Alhaitham felt he was stalking his own wife. Idiotic really.

Skinship was not commonplace between you, an unseen glass wall defining the boundaries of your personal space. Whenever his skin met yours, you’d flinch and pull away as if you were burned. He always just apologize and the two of you would move on without another word. Hell, even if his eyes lingered on you for too long you’d tense up.

It’s been happening more often now, is it because his eyes started wandering more towards your figure or how his hand itched to hold yours?

Were you scarred by a past relationship? Were your flinches the remnants of a darker period in your life before him? His jaw clenched. By pulling a few strings he had pulled up more files of your past, to satisfy his mind’s hungry, but there was nothing. It only made his curiosity hunger more, or was it something else? Alhaitham wanted answers to why you hated his touches and stares, yet wanted to be in his presence and give him gifts.

There was only one conclusion he could come up with: you liked your personal space. And he will respect it, but why did your friends not have to?

There was now a knot in his stomach as if a beast was clawing at it, maybe he should call off work and head to the Bimarstan. He disappeared from the overpass.

–

“Haitham.” He heard your soft pounds on the door.

“Leave some hot water for me.” He could envision the pout on your lips, and that’s what brought him over the edge.

Watching with shameless eyes as the evidence of his guilt washed down the shower drain, running water masking his pants.

If he can’t touch you, that doesn’t mean he can’t think about you; words spoken like a true creep he silently chastised. Alhaitham doesn’t care to admit how long he’s been doing this, perhaps his primal urges weren’t as controlled as he believed.

It’s strange really, you’re a Beta yet you make him have these urges.

You don’t produce any pheromones to cling onto his body. But by using the same shower products as you, it serves the same purpose of scenting no? A foolish voice Alhaitham pushed from the back of his mind, taking another pump of your body wash. Maybe he should check the dosage of his inhibitors.

–

The only opportunity he got to observe you closely was when you were asleep. ‘You’re quite the heavy sleeper’, he notes as his eyes traced over the subtle curves of your cheeks, the contours of your nose, and the softness of your lips.

It’s accepted wisdom that Omegas were the most beautiful people. The top A-list singers and actors being Omegas only solidified the belief. However, Alhaitham’s confident your existence could challenge that very notion.

If it weren’t for your distinct lack of a scent, any Alpha could’ve mistaken you for an Omega. Even his guests were taken aback by how your appearance didn’t match your status as a Beta.

There was a pang in his chest. If he felt those urges when looking at you, then it’s guaranteed that others, specifically other Alphas, have felt it as well. But why? He trusted you to stay true to your convictions of loyalty and integrity… He wasn’t so sure about others though. Even with the inhibitors coursing through his system, he couldn’t seem to push down that annoying hand clawing at his back.

You stirred, huddling into your blanket more, snapping his attention back. ‘Oh, you must be cold again’. The houses in Sumeru were designed to keep hot air out, so when a northern cold front blew in, you definitely felt it.

Quietly getting up, Alhaitham pulled the spare quilt out of the closet, gently layering it over your curled form. The knit between your brows disappeared as a pleased expression overtook your face. Were you having a pleasant dream? Was he ever included? Subconsciously his hand began to reach for your face, only to freeze.

‘Personal space’ he reminds himself as he strolls out of the bedroom.

It makes no sense to him, you’re a Beta. In fact, the reason why he married you in the first place was because he believed your lack of pheromones and lack of heats won’t disrupt his peaceful life. The matchmaker had called him her biggest challenge, persevering only because of a promise made to his late grandma.

So, how were you still corrupting his thoughts like this?

He should read to calm his mind before he attempts to join you back in bed. Thoughts running laps in his head, analyzing then overanalyzing every last explanation he could come up with.

Alhaitham’s greedy hands made their way over to your bookshelf, perhaps he could sedate a bit of his curiosity as well. Pulling the Fontainian novel that marked the start of a tradition.

Under the golden glow of a lamp he flipped through the pages, it seems that your taste in literature has matured. Teal eyes skimming past a paragraph before going back to do a double take.

‘Love born in the brain is more spirited, doubtless, than true love, but it has only flashes of enthusiasm; it knows itself too well, it criticizes itself incessantly; so far from banishing thought, it is itself reared only upon a structure of thought.’

He reached an epiphany.

It looks like you’ve been careless recently. Too distracted by the task of masking your infatuation of your husband from your husband, and maintaining your independent mask to realize that Alhaitham had once again finished all his books.

The novel right in front of you, moved from its place on your shelf, was proof of that.

‘It’s a good book’

Your husband’s neat handwriting was present on the small mint post-it plastered on the front cover. It was a simple gesture yet it made your heart flutter as if you had won the achievement of a lifetime. You finally got Alhaitham to use one of the many stationeries gifted to him.

Carefully peeling the paper off the cover, then folding it to tuck it away in your pocket.

“At least it’s not another light novel this time.” You affirmed, sticking the book back into its spot.

“The mahamatra have announced a total recall of the inhibitors distributed during the past three months, with reports-”

You were lost in your own little world, contemplating just which books haven’t you bought for your husband yet. Tuning out the sounds of the bookstore playlist and TV as your eyes scanned the titles of the thick books in front of you.

Would he like Sci-Fi? Sure it’s not academic but maybe it’ll have nuggets of information in there that’d catch his interest.

The weight of the books made your bag strap dig into your shoulder, seeing the house in the distance, you picked up your pace for the home stretch. Tomorrow marks the start of a four-day public holiday, and after the crunch time your boss put you through to tie up loose ends. You needed it.

Turning the keys in the knob you entered your peaceful little safe haven.

Only to immediately feel the heaviness in the air.

Your husband should be home by now, yet the spot on the couch remained empty. His shoes were placed at the door, albeit messily. Kicking off yours as you placed the bag on the coffee table, you navigated your way through the halls.

The atmosphere was quiet, but not the comforting silence you’ve experienced for the last five years.

“Haitham?” You called out, about to turn the corner into the master bedroom.

His black button-down and slacks were thrown all over the floor, a large lump was currently huddled under your blankets on your side of the bed. ‘Oh, he must be napping’.

Two years in, Alhaitham slept shirtless again like he did before you came. Never before were you grateful that your job made you get up at ungodly 8 am, but having an extra 30 minutes to look at his godly body as he slept made mornings bearable.

Still, the air didn’t feel right and even if he was messy sometimes, your husband never just threw his clothes on the ground when the laundry basket was right in the corner. His breathing also seemed labored.

“Haitham, are you sick?” Reaching a hand into the cocoon of blankets, feeling for his temperature.

A sharp inhale was heard as his breathing stilled, his skin was burning. You moved onto a different patch of skin to confirm it. He must have a fever.

“You’re burning! I’ll get medicine and water, don’t move.” Your hand quickly retracted.

Just as your back was turned towards him, like a monster from beneath the blankets a pair of arms entrapped you.

“H-haitham?” His touch was searing you.

“W-woah?!”

In an instant, you were pinned under Alhaitham’s towering form, the soft sheets cushioning your body. The place where he once curled was twisted and balmy. Your eyes shoot up at him as he hovered above, your body stiffened. A scarlet haze offset the brilliant teal hue you’ve grown so infatuated with, a sense of impending danger ran down your neck.

He doesn’t have a fever, he’s in a rut.

Your thoughts were running wild, bouncing around in your skull as his labored breathing above continued. In all five years, you’ve never seen Alhaitham go into a rut, he was always diligent with his inhibitors. You’ve never been around an Alpha in rut, after all, you were never the one to trigger it.

It’s embarrassing really, you had no idea what to do, all your experience with ruts came from those steamy light novels.

“H-haitham, let me up, I’ll get your inhibitors...” You tried to tug your wrists from his grasp.

Big mistake. His grip tightened as he buried his face into the side of your neck, a low rumble was felt from his chest. Alhaitham had his nose right up against your neck, taking deep inhales as if he was trying to detect something.

You shivered as your body temperature shot up, you’ve never been this close to him, the brushes of his ashen locks against your neck made your legs rub together.

“Hey…” You moved your neck away, the sensation was almost overwhelming.

“Stay still.” A baritone voice vibrated against you.

On command your body stilled, muscles refusing to move as Alhaitham continued his search. His breath was against your ear, tickling it as he took deep inhales of your hair. A low groan was heard as if he was frustrated with something.

“Not enough.”

“Huh?-”

The sound your blouse getting torn off your body resonated through the air. Even will a layer of clothing gone, your body felt hotter. Just as you began to process the loss of your favorite blouse, another rip rang in your ears. Your skirt was now gone as well. You were so vulnerable under his touches.

Dragging his nose down from your neck, over your covered breasts, then along your belly. His hands now gripped your thighs as he shifts down to part them effortlessly, eyes focused on your covered cunt.

Your mind was groggy, reactions dulled, why was the room so hot? Suddenly you felt his nose against your cunt, taking long whiffs of the slick that was beginning to wet the fabric of your panties. That was enough to spark action from you.

“H-hey!” Your hands pushed against his messy locks as your thighs tried to preserve your dignity.

“Ah!” You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your mouth.

In protest of your attempt to shut him out of heaven, Alhaitham bit into the soft flesh of your thigh. Hazy eyes looking straight into yours, warning you to not do it again. His intense gaze made something deep in your cunt pulse.

Sharp teeth released soft skin as his attention was back on the honeypot in front of him. Your panties offered as much resistance as wet paper against his swift tug, the fabric now on the floor in pieces.

Your cunt twitched with each hot breath that hit against its wet lips. With the thin barrier gone, Alhaitham can now freely bury his nose against your honeypot, tingles ran up his spine as the sweet musk of your slick sent his olfactory system into chaos. His throat felt parched as if he had just trekked the desert, he needed a taste.

“Ah! Ahhh,” your back arched as his hot tongue lapped against your cunt.

Alhaitham was slurping up your slick like a depraved beast, wet muscles sliding up the whole length of your slit, occasionally dipping into the contracting hole. Your whole body shook when the smoothness of his tongue ran across your clit, toes curling in the air.

The shower head couldn’t bring out this level of pleasure. The fantasies you envisioned during your long showers couldn’t compare to the scene happening right now. His ministration continued, each stroke of his tongue sending blinding waves of pleasure.

His hips were angrily rutting against the sheets, erection rubbing against the fabric impatiently. But he had to taste you more, his mind hazy as it craved nothing more than your taste. It was his first taste, but he was already addicted. Your legs tensed up in his grip as a loud whine left your lips, your body shaking as a sudden rush of slick was welcomed onto his awaiting tongue.

Your sensitive body tried to flinch away as he continued to lap against your swollen lips and clit but his iron grip on your legs didn’t let you budge an inch. Eyes rolled back as the sweet torture continued.

Your body convulsed, did you just cum again? Two orgasms sapped you of all strength, everything fell limp as your moans continued to fill the room. Your mind too foggy to even process the feeling of embarrassment. It felt so good, yet it was torturing, your cunt was sobbing for something else.

As if taking mercy on your desperation, or maybe his desperation had reached its limit, Alhaitham pulled away. Teary eyes followed his motion, watching as he aligned his length with your greed.

You’ve seen him walk out of the shower in just a towel, how did he hide this behind a puny towel?

Your cunt’s eagerness blocked any hesitation from reaching your brain as his length dragged itself against your soaked lips. The pillow behind your head was not enough, you needed something more solid to hold onto, to ground the last shred of your sanity.

Shaky hands released the plush pillows, outstretched towards Alhaitham’s immense frame. A growl ripped through his chest as he dove into your arms at the same time as his length thrusted fully inside you.

“OH!” Your fingers left deep stretches along his shoulder blades.

His pants and soft growls vibrated against your neck as your eyes rolled back again, the fullness you’d been craving has been fulfilled. The stretch burned in all the right ways as your walls clung onto his member, thick and hard. Soft legs locked around a solid torso, your body pressed against his as his frame pinned yours to the bed. Just as you were adjusting to feeling of his length inside, his hips began moving.

They were merciless, slapping against your hips and ass as the force made your whole body bounce. His length punishes your walls as it pulled out to just the tip only to be slammed back in at full strength. You clung to his muscular body for dear life, breasts bouncing out of their home in your bra.

Nonsense was spilling out of your mouth as your brain malfunctioned from the blinding flashes of pleasure. The slick slaps of your cunt eagerly welcoming his every move and the headboard of the bed knocking against the wall complimented each other.

Alhaitham’s pants were growing heavier, growls deeper as his tongue began to trace up and down your neck. The sensation along with his thick tip bullying your poor sweet spot pushed you over the edge for the third time. Walls clamping down to milk him as your legs squeezed him, the pleasure was toeing the edge of pain, much like how your brain was on the verge of madness.

Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through your orgasm, heavy balls slapping against your swollen lips.

As the high was beginning to wear off, his pace became impossibly fast, the solid wood headboard now banging against the poor wall. Your bodies rocking together on the bed, he buried his face deeper into your neck. His teeth danced along your shoulder as your moans sang in his ears. He wanted to hear more of it.

Alhaitham’s hips slammed against yours one final time before they stilled, teeth digging into your shoulder to suppress a moan, burying his length deep inside your cunt as his thick seed spilled.

Your greed drank all of it up gratefully as your shoulder stung.

Your chest was raising and falling fast, lungs trying to hog all the air that it could hold. Heart pounding hard in your ears. Tears and drool wet your face as your head fell weakly to the side on the soft pillow. You were completely spent as your arms didn’t even have the strength to hold onto him. Limbs limp and nerves fried.

Above you Alhaitham continued to pant into your shoulder, length still buried inside.

After a couple more harsh pants and deep breaths, you felt him stir, pushing against the bed to unpin you from his frame.

“Ah-hh ahh~” You felt your walls clench once more around his length as he pulled out, a thick string of mixed slick connected his tip to your hole.

Your body longed for rest as you turned onto your stomach, face pressed against the pillow, still panting heavily as your eyes closed.

Two large hands grasped firmly onto your hips, startling your consciousness back as you looked over your shoulder.

Alhaitham still had that scarlet haze in his eyes as he lifted your hips up, watching as more mixed fluids began to tickle out of your abused hole. Your eyes shifted down and you gulped, he was still erect.

You were quite foolish to believe that one round was enough to satisfy an Alpha in rut. However, if it weren’t for his firm grasp on your hips, your body would’ve collapsed back into the sheets.

A loud whine left your throat, vocalizing your exhaustion to him. It’s been a long time since you got any action, the two of you didn’t even consummate on the wedding night, it was spent packing your stuff.

You tried to shift your hips out of his grip but he only held on tighter, earning another whine.

Soft kisses were pressed against your back as if he was trying to soothe you. It was pathetic how weak you were to them, instantly melting against the pillow. Maybe you can last one more round you thought as his length rubbed against your slit again.

Thanks to the extra prep and lubrication from the last round your walls were much more accustomed to the stretch as Alhaitham entered once more. His beginning thrusts were much more slowed and controlled than before as you moaned softly into the pillow.

This couldn’t last sadly, as his lust overtook him again and his hips once again slammed into you, forcing a choked moan from you. Using his hands, he held your body up as he pulled all the way out until the tip then cruelly forced it all back into you.

You wanted to beg him to rest, but you also wanted to beg for more. Your sloppy cunt accepted all his punishing movements with gratitude as the wet walls thanked his length with kiss-like contractions.

Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head, mind absolutely blank, the pleasure must’ve melted your brain. All you could do was grip the tear-soaked pillow and let out moan after moan, the poor wall still getting beaten by the movement of the headboard. Tension building up once more in you.

Somewhere along the lines, you felt his teeth graze against your nape as his thrust picked up the pace once more, a sign that he was close to finishing. He was panting against the back of your neck as if he was searching for something. With a particularly harsh snap of his hips, he bites deeply into your nape as he releases a fresh batch of seed.

“Why?”

You felt the frustrated growls against your skin as he bites again at a different angle. The pleasureful pain seems to have jump started your brain for just a second.

‘Oh, he’s trying to bond.’ You felt Alhaitham’s soft locks brush against your shoulders as he continued his fruitless search.

You were once reminded that you were just a Beta, unable to form a bond. He could bite your neck as many times as he wanted. His teeth can pierce the flesh until the skin was raw, but it would be all for naught. He’ll never get that satisfaction. You don’t have the glands to be bitten, to be marked, to be bonded with.

You weren’t an Omega. There was now a heavy knot in your chest.

–

You weren’t even sure what day it was, all you can recall is the hazy cycle of intense lust followed by a lull before the next round. During the lull, you did your damnedest to keep yourself and him hydrated, often having to lure him into the kitchen for some much-needed water and quick snacks.

The air of the house was thick with the musk of sweat and desire, very nerve of yours fried from pleasure.

Once again your body was pinned under his, legs thrown over his shoulders as his hips desperately snapped against yours.

Every article of clothing has long since been removed, allowing your breasts to bounce along with every thrust. By now you were certain the shape of him was pounded into your cunt. The soaked sheets below clutched in your hands as if to ground you from floating up to cloud nine.

The harsh pants and low growls above you increased in frequency in time with his thrusts. He must be close again.

Fortunately, you’ve noticed that the breaks between each round have been getting longer and longer. A sign that the rut was ending. If you survive this you’ll bring offers to the sanctuary of surasthana to thank the archons for their blessing. Maybe after the feeling returns back to your legs of course.

Suddenly your face was pushed into the side of his neck, the scent of sweat now stronger.

“Bite.” His rugged voice commanded.

Ah… he wanted you to mark him. With clumsy teeth, you felt around the smooth muscles. You can’t sense where his glands were so you just bit down at random along his neck. It was useless, you knew it, but still...

Alhaitham pushed himself eagerly against your teeth, encouraging you to bite harder with a growl. You obliged.

His teeth ran along your raw neck, already covered in his bites and hickeys, searching for one last spot. Your jaw clamped down harder as his teeth sank into your neck one last time. Hips stilling as one final wave flooded into you, it was hard to tell when one orgasm ended and another began.

Your hands found purchase around his back again, holding him close as you panted against his neck. Against yours a frustrated growl vibrated once more, his muddled mind confused as to why no bond has formed.

“Why?”

There was that cold pierce of pain again.

The large hand on the back of your head held your nose close against his searing skin. It could’ve just been your fried nerves, but as the darkness overtook your vision, you could’ve sworn there was a warm and opulent scent of wood and books.

If you were reborn, in the next life could you recognize his scent?

Your eyes opened up to blinding sunlight. Your body ached as if it had been through hell and back, bones threatening to turn into dust at any second. The large bed messy and only occupied by one body. Shifting your sight away from the stinging light, his empty pillow came into view.

You weren’t sure what came over you, but even as your muscles screamed you pressed your nose into the cold pillow and inhaled. Nothing. Just sweat and disappointment.

Just what were you hoping for? That a few nights of passion would birth a miracle? That you’d somehow turn into something you couldn’t be? In the end, you were still you. Those novels must’ve rotted your common sense, stupid.

Bitter tears fell onto the pillow, you didn’t have the strength to hold back the sobs as they wrecked through your body.

Yes, you were stupid. So stupid from the very start to believe that this could work. That maybe after a few more years, maybe at the seven-year mark, he could fall in love with you as well.

The dream of his tender eyes looking into yours with love crumbled right there in front of you.

A cup clanged onto the desk in the room as footsteps quickly made their way to your side, a blurred figure knelt down.

“Is your body hurting anywhere? I’ll take you to the Bimarstan.” Alhaitham gently sat your covered figure up, trying to see the extent of the situation.

Your small hands pushed against his solid frame, his motion stilled as you refused to allow him to see your face.

However, Alhaitham knows he didn’t have the right to. Not only did he invade your sacred personal space, but he did so like a wild beast. Not allowing your body to rest or replenish itself as he trapped you to the bed for almost four days. He deduced that you must be hurting, that you must be scared of him now, and that must be the reason behind your tears.

Guilt was suffocating him. Those stupid urges, that stupid rut. His stupid hands refusing to let you go.

Throughout your whole marriage, you had put on the mask of independence, someone who did not need to lean on a husband for comfort. Yet here you were, bawling out your eyes in front of him like a child. Your façade has been cracked, tears soaking into his pillow and snot trickling down under his unwavering gaze.

What was the look on his face right now? You couldn’t see through the mirage of tears blurring your sight, not that you had the courage to face him. Was it disappointment? Right now as he observed your vulnerable figure, did he feel lied to after all these years? Like he had just discovered the defects in a product?

The freezing water of self-loathing, doubt, and insecurity filled you like a boat whose haul had been pierced by the jagged edges of an iceberg. You were drowning, your limbs kicking and thrashing with all their might trying to resurface.

For a brief moment, your face bobbed above the crashing waves.

“Let's get a divorce.”

Those were the only words you managed to choke out in the space between your sobs before your head disappeared under the murky waters once more.

His whole body froze as he processed your words. Alhaitham had already deduced why you wanted to end this relationship, he had hurt and scarred you. Yet, like a child, he still wanted to clamber for more answers.

“Why?” He said through clenched teeth, you couldn’t see it but his hands had a slight shake.

“We’re not satisfied, Alhaitham. I-it’s not working, I-i can’t satisfy your requirements. I-i can’t make you happy, I-i can’t make you love… me.” Hiccups breaking up your sentences.

That was it, you spilled out all your secrets. Your lungs and throat hurting as if you just pushed salt water out of them.

Alhaitham’s hands were balled up so tightly his nails broke the skin on his palms.

So, you weren’t happy. He couldn’t make you happy. He felt as if he had dropped down to the tier of a fool. A fool who didn’t know how to make those bitter tears of yours stop.

He released you.

You felt his presence disappear from your side. The touch of warmth he provides was now gone as coldness fully engulfs your whole being. The tears just wouldn’t stop. Is this what those heartbroken sobs actually felt like? Why did you ever think this was something to be desired? You truly were an idiot.

You weren’t sure how long had passed, a few seconds or a few minutes, but his presence returned back to your side. He looked as if he had something in his hands. Were they divorce papers? Ah, Alhaitham was a man who always had a plan for everything. Did he have a premonition that this marriage was doomed from the start? How long has he had them?

Alhaitham didn’t feel like he had the right to touch you. However, he needed to do something to make you look at him. Please, just look at him. His large hands tenderly grasped yours as if they were made from glass. You still hid your face from him.

“I won’t bind you to a life that brings you unhappiness. But.. You have to tell me” His voice wasn’t as steady as he wanted it.

“If you want strolls through the market, tell me. If you want to be woken up with sweet whispers, tell me. If you want to hold hands across a date night table, then tell me. You have to tell me what will make you happy.” He wasn’t sure if those were your unfulfilled desires or his.

You could only tighten your grip on his hands as you sobbed harder.

Your statement from before was incorrect. Alhaitham is also at fault for this pain you were going through. If there was one feeling that was just as addictive as love, it would be hope. Please, please don’t give false hope.

“I-i’ll disrupt your-r life…” You managed to choke out.

His thumb gently stroke the back of your knuckles.

“How could you ever disrupt something you’re a part of?”

Your hesitant eyes finally met his teal gaze, his eyes soft as opposed to their usual stonewall stare. With the walls down, you were given a glimpse into the whirling emotions behind them. Endearment, sincerity, and hurt danced along the green-blue irises.

“As for your last reason, here. I should’ve just given this to you directly.” His hands let go of yours, picking up the item he had brought.

He handed over the book you had placed back on your bookshelf a few days earlier, the one he had left his note on. So, he didn’t have divorce papers prepared? Your trembling hands accepted it, and through your teary eyes, you finally noticed the torn-out green and gold note contrasting between the cream pages.

Tenderly, you unfolded the piece of paper retrieved from the book. Quickly blinking to clear your eyes from excess tears. In the neat script of Alhaitham’s handwriting:

‘Love born in the heart as opposed to Love born in the brain:

When one loves at first sight or goes looking for love, then one is essentially just attracted to someone for the sake of being with someone. Not looking objectively at any warning signs or relationship flaws one has with someone. If there are any issues, the bias of infatuation blinds you to them.

So that's loving with the heart, based solely on carefree addictive emotion, even though it feels stronger and more enthusiastic on the surface.

Love from the brain is more logical and objective. You take the time to understand a person, seeing them for them with unbiased eyes. You understand them thoroughly and can maturely and objectively work through the turbulence of life together. Individuals who set aside precious time to manually repair creaks, maintaining the structural integrity of a home that shelters their affections.

With the diligence of a conservator preserving ancient scripts on papyrus that should have been disintegrated long ago.

The latter rather than the former describes the bond forged between my wife and I.’

Your grip crumpled the side of the paper.

“What does this mean?” Hesitation in your voice as tears blurred your vision of his teal eyes.

“I love you.” He confessed. Three words have been overdue for years.

‘Don’t be filled with false hope’ Your mind echoed.

“I’m not an Omega…”

“That’s not a requirement for love.”

That was it. It was as if you’ve been waiting all this time for him to say those words. The words of affirmation you didn’t know you needed. The key to free you from the cage of insecurity you’ve built for yourself.

Your feet now touched the warm sandy bottom as air rushed back into your lungs.

It looks like you’ve figured it out. Regardless of what definition of love has been pushed by external forces, these feelings he holds for you are objectively pure and true love. His hands tenderly took yours away from its grip on the paper. If you wanted him to, Alhaitham will spend the rest of his life proving it to you. He’ll conduct every experiment and collect all the data points to present to you.

How silly, a red thread spun by two pairs of hands, created through undying trust, respect, and admiration had already tied the two of you in a bond. The love you were trying so hard for had always been right in front of you for five years.

The blanket draped behind your head resembled a wedding veil as the fabric folded and gathered around your trembling body. ‘Beautiful’ He thought.

The room was a mess, sheets and clothes strewn all across the floor. The musk of lust still hung heavy in the air, the residue of sweat and other fluids still clinging to skin. Your hair was all over the place, tears still pouring from your eyes, his hair was no better. But in this moment, there was nothing more Alhaitham wanted to do than this:

“Will you take me, Alhaitham, as your lawfully married husband? To love me through sickness and health, through poverty and wealth, and through sun and rain?”

Sobs were still wracking through your body, words unable to form in your mouth but you were nodding your head enthusiastically. Your hands felt small firmly holding onto his larger ones.

“I, Alhaitham, will take you as my lawfully married wife. I will love you through sickness and health, through poverty and wealth, and through sun and rain… I do.”

It was a silly sight to behold, but in this moment as he finally sees a smile break out on your face, it means the world to him.

There’s a saying from a well-known poet from Fontaine it goes as follows:

‘Love is being stupid together.’

And clearly, the two of you have been very stupid. Oh so stupidly in love.

Fin~

Authors note:

The long quote was taken from Stendhal’s The Red and The Black

The last quote is from Paul Valery

Also communication is v important to any relationship, people can’t read minds Alhaitham. If you made it this far, thank you and hope you enjoyed!

DON’T PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS.

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evilminji · 9 months

Text

:T Hello there, Thought(tm) of the day...

I? Just remembered that Constantine's "Laughing Magician"(?) title is... f*ckin HEREDITARY?

Like?? As in The Constantine Meances have been out here, harrasing divinity and demons alike for GENERATIONS on behalf of a Good Time, the Lols, and probably Humanity if they can be arsed and you make a good case.

W... What chance would there even BE of at least like? HALF those f*ckers(conflicted but affectionate) NOT becoming Realms Ghosts? With the sh*t they're exposed too? With THEIR luck??

You think DEATH can trick them? Take them away for good? Take away the local Rat B@stard, Tricks Gods Just To See If He Can, Fate Is My Second Mistress and I Cuckold Glory On Your Mother's Bed, Constantine?

They run down main street, *ss in the breeze, wearing someone else's shirt and two shoes that don't match, not a stitch else, like run away lovers. Let Death TRY and catch them. Sorry, Luv, it's not them, it's definitely you.

..........I bet they're the wooooorst~~✨️

No joke, I bet they set up a whole *ss TOWN of Constantine.

Where the odds are in THEIR favor, gods fear to tread, and reality straight out stops working right. Like Diagonal Ally for B*stards, extended to a whole floating island. Everyone's related. It's Chaos. They can barely stand each other. Would sell each other for a toothpick.

Mess with ANY off them... and you can kiss your afterlife good bye.

They have NO neighbors because both no ones dumb enough to get NEAR them AND no one can stand to be around that many Constantines at once. The physical Manifestation of Fate wants to take the whole LOT of the handsy F*CKS to court for child support and a restraining order.

Somehow... they keep getting Earth Booze.

They SHOULDN'T have access. It's been anywhere from decade to centuries since they died. Millennium for a few. Howms't The F*CK, do they keep getting cheap gin and vodka? Bourbon and beer? Even the odd fruity cocktail for funnies.

Please... PLEASE! Tell the Zone at large, that their innate birthright powers STOPPED at Death. They... they are just REALLY good at smuggling right? Excellent con men?

Tell us they can't f*ckin PREDICT AND INFLUENCE Natural Portals!!!

*smug sipping noises from a large room full of Dead @ssholes*

Okay... They Won't Tell You~ 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 *siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip*

Now! I hear you ask? Why are John's Terrible, Terrible, God Awful Ghostly Relatives relevant? Absurdly powerful as they are... they seem to take the afterlife as an extended "Ha! GET F*CKED, DEMONS WHO WANTED MY SOUL!" Vacation/Family get together.

Minded their business and expected everyone to mind THEIRS, or ELSE.

Didn't give two solitary SH*TS that Pariah woke from his little nappy-poo to cause a tantrum. After all, in their family? When DOESN'T some "great and terrible Power That Be" get itself in a snit? Meh... it's baby Johnny's turn to clean sh*t up. Best of luck to 'im~!

But THEN!

They must've been drinking... making out with their equally terrible and bamf trainwreck significant others... sitting around playing "who can cheat best at cards"... when? Huh.

Never seen the Fate and The Odds... STRANGLE like that.

Billions of billions of What-Ifs, Maybes, Could-bes, and more... suddenly YANKED towards a single spot. The allowance of Only One Outcome. Almost like what they can do, but... not, WRONG, per say...

Just... impossible.

There's NEVER.. JUST one way this plays out. You can control the big notes. The script. But the details and set dressing will always decide themselves.

NO ONE can just... Decide What Will Happen. And yet?

...............was....... was that Little Johnny? Has to be. Right? Where's his old man? Oi! Was that your Kid??! John's closest relatives are baffled. Nope. They can still feel him laying a beat down on some demon in Norway. So then? Who?

How?

Well mark them CURIOUS(tm).

They decide to actually get up. Put their various drinks and cards down. Put pants on. Somebody's done something... INTERESTING(TM) and they want to know what's up. So? Off they trot.

It's traumatizing for everyone who sees them. The Constantines have breached f*ckin B*stard Containment and are spilling into the Zone. On this! The DAY Pariah Waged A War! THEY JUST GOT RID OF HIM!

And Danny? His everything hurts. The Eyeballs are starting to come out of the woodwork and ARGUE about him like he's not even there. He's DANGEROUS blah blah blah. Give them the crown. Right now! Etc etc.

Somethings telling him not too.

It's... it's HIS isn't it? Has been for centuries and seconds. And... and... everyone one of him is King. There is only one of him. The Zone covers all the multiverse and all of the Hims that were and aren't here and helped and... and...! His head is starting to hurt.

But the more they try to push him to hand it over, the less he feels like unhanding the dang gaudy thing. No. His now. He'll use it as a DOOR stopper if he dang well feels like it! Stop yelling.

Then all these blonde ghosts saunter in... and all he can think is "F*ck. I think they noticed."

Huh?

@stealingyourbones @cyrwrites @bjurnberg @the-witchhunter @hdgnj

#dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #john constantine

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pradabambie · 4 months

Text

the roommate. rafe cameron x reader x felix catton. pt. 2

masterlist

rafe's impending arrival had you on your toes. excitement to see your boyfriend was intertwined with worry about the whole felix situation – you knew all too well how protective rafe could get.

"and... this is my room! nice and cozy, isn't it?" you said, opening the door for rafe. as he entered, he glanced around, noting the neatly organized chaos of college life.

“oh," he remarked after noticing the extra bed, "i didn't know you had a roommate." his brow furrowed in surprise.

before you could respond, the door swung open, and felix walked in, absorbed in a phone conversation.

“no, ollie, i swear to god, her friend is hot, i swear-" felix gushed, turning around to close the door, finally facing the room and noticing the strange boy's presence.

"ollie, i'll call you back. hey mate, felix catton, pleasure to meet you. i assume you’re the boyfriend, yeah?” felix greeted him with a wide smile, while you shot him a look, silently urging him to say the right thing.

“rafe cameron” he simply said, extending his right hand. felix ignored it and went in for a hug.

however, rafe quickly shot a glance at you, then back at felix, and finally at the two beds. the realization hit him, and a flicker of annoyance and anger crossed his face.

“wait, you’re the roommate?” rafe looked straight at you, his face now red, and his jaw tight.

you tried to lighten the mood with a light laugh, but it only seemed to fuel rafe's anger.

“look, babe, long story short, felix's room flooded, and my assigned roommate never showed, so here we are.”

you took rafe’s hand, praying a little physical touch would calm him down.

“i swear, it’s no big deal”

felix stood quietly, a goofy smile on his face that almost made it seem like he was enjoying the entire thing. his carefree attitude clashed with the undercurrent of tension you felt.

“right lex?” with pleading eyes, you looked at felix, begging him to say something, anything.

"yeah don't worry, mate. no funny business here—cross my heart."

felix's attempt at reassurance didn't seem to appease rafe's growing displeasure. the air thickened with tension, but felix, seemingly unfazed, broke the silence.

"so, rafe, what brings you to our humble abode?" felix's tone was lighthearted, though his eyes held a mischievous glint.

rafe, still visibly perturbed, replied, "just missed my girlfriend you know." as he spoke, he sidled closer to you, placing his hand on the small of your back, as if subtly marking his territory.

felix raised an eyebrow, catching the shift in rafe's demeanor.

"hey, why don't we spice things up a bit? there's a party tonight. what do you say, the three of us? get to know each other a bit better?"

you shot felix a warning look, implicitly asking him to tread carefully.

the boy, however, continued with his flirty charm, directing his next words toward you.

"come on, love, it'll be a blast. your boyfriend here can get to know me outside this mess," felix winked, his tone playful, referring to the disorganized room the three of you stood in.

rafe with a reluctant nod, he agreed to the plan. "fine, we'll go to your damn party."

felix's grin widened, sensing a victory of sorts. "brilliant! it's a date, then. i'll meet you both after dinner, see ya!"

felix sauntered out of the room, leaving you alone with rafe. sensing his frustration, you approached him, offering a reassuring smile.

"hey, don't let it bother you. felix is harmless, he’s just a bit quirky," you reassured, planting a quick kiss on your boyfriend's lips, relishing the sensation of his presence that you had missed so much.

rafe sighed, his tension melting away. "i missed you, you know."

you grinned, "i missed you too."

as the two of you settled on the bed, rafe's smile began to appear on his lips. simultaneously, his hands started exploring your body, the touch turning you more and more needy of him.

“so, how much time do you think we have until the party?”

“enough.”

#hope u guys like this #rafe #felix catton #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #obx #rafe x reader #felix catton imagine #felix catton x reader #saltburn #felix catton x you #mine #rafe smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #felix catton blurb

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thedevilrisen · 4 months

Note

Jealous Quinn imagine, please? 🥺

Sure Angel!

-:-

"That's so interesting! What did you say your name was again?"

"Mark. What was yours sweetheart?"

"Y/N"

"Quinn, mate you look like you're going to kill that poor boy." Brock stated as he sat back down into the booth with his new beer.

"I might just. She giggled at him, giggled! What could he be saying that's giggle worthy?" the man exclaimed

"Your focusing quite a lot on this for someone who says he couldn't care less about who she talked to." Brock spoke matter of factly.

"I don't!" Quinn exclaimed

"Are you sure about that? Your trust seems to have flown out the window 25 minutes ago." Brock the ever observant best friend was treading the very thin line of Quinn's patience.

"It's not her I don't trust. It's the clown sitting next to her." Quinn mumbled into his drink to avoid sounding as petty as he was feeling. However his eyes never left the pair sitting at the bar. "It's fine. I just have to get over myself, she's a big girl she can take care of herself."

"Alright then! How about some pool, I saw a table on my way back from the bar."

"Yeah," He sighed eye flicking back over to the pair once more, "He's touching her!"

Shooting out of the seat and winding his way through the tables he reached the bar, "Hey mate, great conversation. Touch my girlfriend again and I'll touch you rather violently."

"Qui-" you tried to fight as he pulled you from the bar stool and through the patrons to the exit. Once on the side walk he stopped rather abruptly causing you to collide into his muscular chest.

"You still love me right?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure."

"Very."

"I don't want to be seen as toxic but I hate when other guys touch you."

"Well you don't need to threaten them."

"Duly noted"

#risen rambles :d #risen answers 👋#jack hughes fic #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #trevor zegras oneshot #quinn hughes #jack hughes smut #dad quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader

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adore-laur · 5 months

Text

GET OVER HERE

— i don’t know what the plot of this is 🫶

——

Your phone's default ringtone goes off from its place on the coffee table. Your eyes shoot up from the book you're reading, and you see Harry's name appear, along with your lock screen, which is a candid picture of both of you. After bookmarking the page you were engrossed in, you reach forward and slide your thumb across the screen to answer.

"What's up?" you say, holding the phone to your ear.

"C'mere," Harry murmurs lowly on the other end.

You screw your face up and absentmindedly pick at a loose thread on your pants. "Why?"

"Because I need to discuss something with you."

A scoffed laugh escapes your mouth. He's literally in the room next to you, getting ready for the show, so you ask, "Can't you just text me or tell me right now?"

He's comically silent before uttering an innocent, high-pitched "No?"

You sigh loudly and rise from the comfy couch. As you hang up, you leave the lounge and traverse down the hall. It takes precisely seven steps to reach his private dressing room. The door is wide open, with aromatic cologne and quiet melodies wafting through.

Harry is the first thing you see. He's sitting comfortably in a canvas chair with only a towel around his waist and socks on his feet. The counter in front of him is a mess with hair products, cosmetic brushes, and face creams scattered on the surface. His phone lies on his lap, which means he's been talking to you on speaker.

You clear your throat, which causes him to turn his head and look at you. "What did you need to discuss with me?"

He meekly smiles. "Hi."

"What do you want?" you rephrase impatiently, wanting to return to your romance book. It was just getting steamy!

"Come closer," he says, glancing you up and down.

You notice that he hasn't moved his hands away from his face. They both unnaturally cup his cheeks, and you can't figure out why.

"Why are your hands like that?" you ask with suspicion.

His eyebrows scrunch together. "Like what?"

"You're being weird."

"We're not doing this," you say, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Tell me what you need, or else I'm walking away. I have a book to finish."

Harry keeps his hands on his face and curls his pinky finger to beckon you closer. "Get over here."

Your heart flutters when he says it in a way that implies you might be in trouble. You rack your brain for anything that could have led him to call you and have you come to his dressing room.

As you slowly tread to him, his eyes don't leave yours. When you stand in front of him, his legs spread in invitation, and he says, "On my lap, baby."

You do as he commands and sit on his left thigh. One of his hands moves from his face to rest on your waist while the other stays put. He hasn't put his rings on yet, so his fingers feel bizarrely bare on your skin.

"What?" you whisper, your gaze curiously dancing over his face.

Harry leans back in his chair. "Wanna know why I'm covering my cheek?"

"Yeah. I've asked that already."

"Don't get sassy with me."

You swallow nervously. "Did you cut yourself while shaving?" you guess, knowing it's happened a few times before.

"Nope," he replies, tapping his fingers against his cheekbone. "Try again."

You purse your lips and ponder. "Hmm… do you have a zit?"

Harry runs his tongue across his teeth, obviously not amused. "You're on a roll today, aren't you?"

"Just tell me," you breathe out as your shoulders slump.

"You," he says while jerking the leg that you sit on, "gave me a hickey the other day. Right on my jaw where everyone can see."

You roll your lips in to try and hide your smile. "I'm so sorry."

Harry removes his hand, revealing a brownish-red mark on his jawbone from when the both of you were in a hotel suite in Tacoma. It's a known rule not to leave marks, especially since it's common for him to be photographed in the cities he visits. You take all the blame. You couldn't help it, really — it's nice to be a little greedy sometimes.

"Now I have to tell my makeup artist to cover it up," he mutters, his hand squeezing your ankle. "I have to come up with a stupid excuse and tell them that I punched myself or something."

You laugh. "That's a terrible excuse."

He tilts his head to the side and gives you a blank stare. "Oh, is it? Then would the culprit be so kind as to help me out?"

"Just say, I don't know, that you got hit by something thrown on stage."

Harry blinks three times before saying, "That's… actually a really good idea. Okay, you can leave now. Your work here is done. Discussion over."

You lean closer and whisper, "Where's my reward?"

He gives your ass a salacious squeeze. "Meet me in our suite tonight after the show. Better be on your best behavior."

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles #adore-laur #get over here

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rorywritesjunk · 6 months

Text

All I dream of lately is how to get you underneath me

It was Buggy's turn to do your makeup.

Rating: R because the girlfriend can't keep her hands to herself or keep her dirty mind from wandering.

Warning: None really, just suggestive themes. Buggy has a bun because I can't help myself, and chest hair. Mentions of nipple piercings on Buggy because why not? And Buggy is a damn tease as well.

A/N: Sequel to the makeup fic. I wrote two versions of this before deciding the second one was more on track with how the original went. It's inspired by a tag from @sporadicthingcollection from the first fic. Title comes from "Closer" by Tegan & Sara.

Part One is here!

The bath had been comforting, warm, and much needed. This time it wasn't Buggy having a bad day and needing some pampering, it was you. Between losing half your groceries from ripped bags to a pot of water boiling over on the stove and making a huge mess, your foot had also been run-over by Cabaji on his unicycle while you were trying to help some of the performers literally find their marks. It wasn't the first time your foot was a victim to the unicycle, but in the chaos of the day, you didn't think to wear shoes and well, the tread-mark shaped cuts on your foot was a reminder to do so next time.

You toweled off and pulled your robe on, wincing as you limped over to the bed to sit. Buggy was sitting at his vanity, only in his underwear as he unwinded from the day as well. His hair was up in a messy bun, his back to you as he wiped away the day's makeup. It was always a fascinating sight to you, and you knew you were lucky to see him in a near vulnerable state like this.

He rummaged through the drawers of the vanity for something before looking up at the mirror and seeing you reflected back at him on the bed. He smirked, the red around his mouth still prominent, making the smirk appear larger than it was.

"See something you like?" He teased. You flushed at being caught staring.

"Always." You shot back as you continued watching him, a thought coming to your mind. It was dumb to ask. You both were going to bed in the next few hours, but you didn't know when a better time to ask would be. "Buggy, can I ask you something?"

"Depends." He replied as he looked back at himself in the mirror. "What is it?"

"Um… could you do my makeup?" You asked. "It's just… I like seeing how you do yours and… thought maybe you'd be able to do mine? But I get it if you don't want to, you know, I don't think I really have the face for it."

He pushed his chair away from the vanity and stood up. He didn't say anything as he turned to face you and crossed the room in just a few steps. You wondered if you offended him somehow by the way he grabbed your face when he approached you, staring down at you before smashing his lips against yours in a surprising kiss. You gasped when he pulled away, head spinning as you wondered what the fuck brought that on.

"Thought you'd never ask." He grinned. "Let's get started."

He went back to the vanity and started rummaging through drawers, piling whatever his findings were on the top. You wondered if you should even bother to change into clothes since you would likely end up naked by the end anyway, it would be less of a hassle to stay in your robe.

He came back over a few minutes later and gestured for you to scoot into the middle of the bed. Oh, he was going to do it on the bed, like how you did for him. You scooted to the middle of the bed and grabbed a pillow to stick under your head before making sure your robe stayed closed. He crawled on top of you, knees on either side of your body as you moved your hands to rest over your chest. He didn't need to pin your hands down because you weren't going to grope him like he did to you every time you did his makeup.

Once he settled on top of you and you realized the view you would have, you suddenly realized that oh, you can see why he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

Sure, you had been under him plenty of times, but not like this. For one thing, his thighs were right there. Of course you've been between them, looking up at him from the ground as you sometimes knelt down in front of him while he sat in his captain's chair, his pants undone as your mouth su-

"Babe." He snapped you back to reality. Your face was red. "You good?"

"Y-Yes." You replied as your fingers twitched, needing to be touching something to keep you focused. He seemed to notice and grabbed them, placing them both on top of his thighs, the last place you wanted to be touching right then because you knew them so well. You knew how they felt under you whenever you were straddling his lap, whether it was in bed or his chair, naked, riding him until-

He cleared his throat and you up at him again, turning redder in the face.

"Behave." He teased as he held up two eyeliner pencils near your eyes. He studied them for a moment before tossing one aside and uncapping the other. He then leaned down, face close to your own as he carefully moved the pencil along your bottom eyelid, looking at you but not really. The urge to pull him down for a kiss was there, and you thought the possibility of losing an eye would be worth it if you got to kiss him right then.

He was finished quicker than you thought and kissed your forehead. You realize you didn't specify how to do your makeup. Was he going to do something elaborate or simple? Your fingers tapped nervously against his thighs as you started to wonder if this was a good idea. You had worn makeup a few times in your younger years but it never looked right, so you gave up trying to learn how to do it on yourself.

But damn were you glad to have asked him to do it. It was a different kind of intimacy having him leaning over you, an eyeshadow palette in one hand and a brush in the other as he whispered for you to close your eyes, which you did without hesitation. Your hands stayed on his thighs, moving up and down his thighs slowly, fingers crooking to drag your nails over his skin. You didn't really pay attention to how much you were moving your hands until you felt the fabric of his boxers against your knuckles. You decided to push your luck as you flattened your hands back down and began to slide them up his boxers slowly.

"Babe!" He yelped as he swatted at your hand. "Hey!"

You cracked one eye open and grinned. "Sorry, didn't realize what I was doing."

"Liar." He scolded, looking scandalized by your actions. "I'll sit on you like you do me if you don't watch it."

"Aw, but Buggy!" You whined. "I can't help it!"

"Watch it." He warned as he held the brush threateningly. "Everything else is fair game right now but that. Just wait."

You pouted up at him as you let your hands move to his waist instead, your thumbs running along the waistband of his boxers. He seemed fine with that and you closed your eyes again as he began brushing the eyeshadow over your lids.

It was just hard not to touch him. Before you knew it, you were sliding your hands up his sides, to his chest, your thumbs brushing over his nipples, resisting the urge to tug on the piercings he had there. You felt him flinch when you touched him, so of course you did it again before running your fingers through his chest hair, hands moving up to his neck so your arms could wrap around him. He cleared his throat and you opened your eyes.

"Okay, I gotta keep you still." He said. "You're getting too handsy."

"But Buggyyyyyy!" You pouted up at him. "I can't help it, really. Just… fuck, you should see what I'm seeing right now. You look so damn beautiful like this."

He blushed but said nothing as he set the eyeshadow aside. He reached back to unhook your arms from around his neck, pushing them above your head suddenly and holding them against the mattress. He held them down with one hand while the other moved to your cheek, stroking your flushed skin softly.

"And if you could see how you looked right now, babe, underneath me like this…” He trailed off as he tightened his grip on your wrists, his other hand now sliding down your body, untying your robe, touching your stomach as it moved between your legs. You inhaled sharply, trying to move your legs apart for him, biting back a moan.

And then he pulled his hand back without even touching you.

“Buggy!” You whined. “Why?!”

“We’re not finished yet, babe.” He smirked. “I still have to do your lipstick.”

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy opla #buggy x you #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x you #one piece #opla buggy #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 8 months

Text

what if i have big boobs and a small heart?

luke hughes x f!reader social media au

warnings: swearing, use of 'manwhore', allusions to sex

fc: steph bohrer

liked by markestapa, trevorzegras and 791 others

ynofficial: j-dog strikes again

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colecaufield: HEART, NOT BOOBS 📢

ynofficial: let's all bow down to preacher jack🧎

colecaufield: he's my summer entertainment

dylanduke25: you'll have to excuse my brother in law's behaviour, he does this sometimes. you just have to reset him by giving his fake tooth a wiggle

ynofficial: 💀

lhughes_06: duker what happened to the definitions?

dylanduke25: 'forgetting' - a failure to recall information

liked by lhughes_06

trevorzegras: i think i just pulled something trying not to laugh

lhughes_06: jackhughes you know it's bad when z points it out

_quinnhughes: i can confirm that was my live reaction

markestapa: my my he's done it again

ynofficial: my friend my pal my buddy

markestapa: YOU TALKIN TO ME? YOU TALKIN TO ME?

ynofficial: well who the hell else am i talking to

markestapa: we're really funny

ynofficial: the pranks? the laughs?

markestapa: between me and you?

ynofficial: ah!!!

edwards.73: YOU'RE ON VACATION WITHOUT ME?????

lhughes_06: you're in nj????? at dev camp?????

edwards.73: SEMANTICS

ynofficial: if it helps it's only duker, gavo, me, luke and mark now

edwards.73: it doesn't

ynofficial: you'll get over it😘

jackhughes: fuck

ynofficial: brace yourself. i'm never letting it go

_quinnhughes: he could do with being taken down a few pegs

lhughes_06: and what better way than a future s.i.l with no contractual obligations?

ynofficial: you make it seem like i'm unemployed

lhughes_06: you know you could be...😘

ynofficial: I DON'T NEED YOUR MONEY OKAY

ynofficial: I DON'T NEED TO RELY ON A MAN FOR FINANCIAL AID

lhughes_06: aid???? YOU'RE MY GIRLFRIEND I LIKE TAKING CARE OF YOU

markestapa: rare otp crumbs 😲

dylanduke25: OTP OTP OTP

liked by edwards.73, jjmccarthy and 873 others

ynofficial: but what happens if i have big boobs and a small heart jackhughes?

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nolan_moyle: immediately that is incorrect

ynofficial: TREAD CAREFULLY MOYLE I HAVE BOOBS OKAY

nolan_moyle: i was in fact ☝️not talking about your boobs

markestapa: i'm honoured to be featured but you're the biggest liar in the world

dylanduke25: THAT GIRL IS A SOFTIE

edwards.73: well spoken

ynofficial: i will have you know that i am NOT a softie 🤨

_quinnhughes: i beg to fucking differ

ynofficial: QUINN YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE MY BACK

_quinnhughes: then i'm switching sides

ynofficial: 😨

jackhughes: I WAS HAMMERED THEN OKAY.

jackhughes: also you probably have the biggest heart out of everyone i've ever met

ynofficial: shut the hell up i do not

markestapa: to answer your question though, i think you'd just be a baddie

ynofficial: are you saying i'm not a baddie then

markestapa: you're a different kind of baddie honey 💛💛

liked by ynofficial, tyler_duke and 43,183 others

lhughes_06: an appreciation post for the biggest baddie with the biggest heart

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markestapa: you missed the boob part

lhughes_06: dude

ynofficial: mark has a point, do i not have boobs?

ynofficial: ample?

lhughes_06: i don't know how to answer that on social media

dylanduke25: ample: large and accommodating/plentiful

lhughes_06: LET'S ALL STOP TALKING ABOUT MY GIRLFRIEND'S BOOBS

jackhughes: are you jelly?

lhughes_06: you're the last person who gets to ask me that after what you just said

jackhughes: have a little brother they said 😐 you can bully him they said 😐 it'll be fun they said 😐

_quinnhughes: i'm literally living proof of that not being true wtf are you on

adamfantilli: question 🤔

lhughes_06: oh dear

adamfantilli: are cheesy speeches genetic? or was it a fluke?

lhughes_06: i think i'm offended

_quinnhughes: ouch

trevorzegras: LOL 😛

ynofficial: i had that thought and with experience luke usually says 'fuck shit up' and quinn says 'expose their weaknesses, flash luke, i'll point at the ocean to distract mark and then spike the ball. also, if we win, i'll buy you alcohol for the next month'...so jack is probably the fluke

bradytkachuk: i can confirm this is true yes

colecaufield: that does sound pretty accurate

trevorzegras: _quinnhughes YOU BRIBE UNDERAGE CHILDREN WITH ALCOHOL?????

_quinnhughes: i also know a lot of your secrets and i happen to be incredibly persuasive 😬

trevorzegras: was that a threat?

ynofficial: YES LMAO

edwards.73: so in conclusion, y/n is a soft baddie and the boob thing is inconclusive????

ynofficial: i totally forgot about the point of this post

lhughes_06: love to know my efforts go unrecognised ❤️

ynofficial: i don't have to show it on social media 😘

lhughes_06: tis true 😊

rutgermcgroarty: OTP 📣 OTP 📣

markestapa: private but not secret will always have my heart

luca.fantilli: he says swiping at the photos of them making out and shoving them in both luke's and y/n's faces telling them how cute they are and that they should post more couple content

markestapa: how tf do you know what i'm doing

luca.fantilli: there's a groupchat

markestapa: WITHOUT ME IN IT????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

liked by ynofficial, jacob_truscott20 and 63,197 others

lhughes_06: this is how we do ☀️😎

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jackhughes: 😎🫣🔥🤝

_alexturcotte: court marshaled

g.brindley4: Behaviour.

ynofficial: hot hot hot

lhughes_06: all you you you

markestapa: flirty flirty flirty

trevorzegras: baby hughes is smooth smooth smooth 😮‍💨

jackhughes: 🙄🙄

dylanduke25: is pitcure #1 proof that boobs do indeed win?

g.brindley4: YNOFFICIAL WAS TAKING THE PIC SO YES!!!!!

edwards.73: luke hughes boob guy confirmed 🤫🤫

ynofficial: your curls will be the death of me

lhughes_06: 😊😊😊😊

matthewknies: they'll be the death of me too 😔

liked by rutgermcgroarty, nblanks98 and 528 others

ynofficial: just told these 4 goobers that they've all been 'so bf' recently and luke walked away from me, mark literally FROZE and eddy and duker just...got it

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ynofficial: side note: luke heard me tell this to mark and i've never seen the man look so ready to punch his friend before

markestapa: i was about to use my pims to defend myself

ynofficial: channel your inner rocky

markestapa: NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT

edwards.73: i think sometimes you should back down and go home

ynofficial: 😧😧

lhughes_06: in my defence, i was in the middle of playing golf

ynofficial: which is ridiculous because it was literally dark

_quinnhughes: yeah i don't remember still being there in the dark

ynofficial: that's because...

lhughes_06: no

lhughes_06: stop don't

jackhughes: now that i think about it i don't remember still being there either????

ynofficial: erm

dylanduke25: ew so you and luke were on a dark golf course with a buggy by yourself????? you disgust me

ynofficial: WE WEREN'T DOING THAT

lhughes_06: we were chatting shit but now that you mention it, thanks for the idea

jackhughes: 🤮🤮

_quinnhughes: don't pretend like you haven't done worse mr hot tub time machine 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮

ynofficial: i can never watch that film again

edwards.73: me and duker are just 💪 that 💪 good 💪

dylanduke25: PERIOD 😤😤

ynofficial: it's true, you are

nolan_moyle: nblanks98 you look so bf all the time

ynofficial: yk what i think you're 10000% correct with that nolan

nolan_moyle: thank you 😊😊

nblanks98: aw 🥰

umichhockey: admin would like to agree with you

liked by ynofficial

jackhughes: have i been 'bf' lately?

ynofficial: you've been more 'manwhore' lately

_quinnhughes: ynofficial you're my favourite non-hughes

lhughes_06: when i marry her will she be the favourite hughes?

_quinnhughes: out of my siblings? absolutely

ynofficial: i'm SO honoured

ynofficial: _quinnhughes also you've been very bf lately, i don't tell you often

_quinnhughes: it's the hoodies isn't it?

ynofficial: and the fact that your cuddles are just *chef's kiss*

jackhughes: i give good cuddles too i'll have you know

lhughes_06: jackhughes you're not coming near her with a ten foot pole

ynofficial: you do jackhughes

ynofficial: what

lhughes_06: what

ynofficial: jack's given me hugs before

jackhughes: yeah

lhughes_06: why

ynofficial: he broke up with his girlfriend????

lhughes_06: JACK HAD A GIRLFRIEND?????

_quinnhughes: WHEN WAS THIS???????

jackhughes: ynofficial thank you for that

ynofficial: i'm so sorry oops

markestapa: you've been so gf lately

ynofficial: thank you bestie

edwards.73: what does that mean?

ynofficial: (i don't know)

lhughes_06: should i be threatened right now? i don't feel it but i feel like i should be iykwim

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes social media au #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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peachseashell · 4 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫!

- Vamp! scara & xiao x Gn! Reader

✒︎ scenario: their first time feeding on you

✒︎Warnings: blood/injury, scara is a bit rough, kisses, crying, angst (?) yandere themes kinda? Mentions of scaras past, scara is also more Kabukimono than Scaramouche. They are kinda mischaracterized.

✒︎ notes: fun fact, vampires bite their victim then lick the blood, I thought they had sucky things in their teeth haha! Maybe it was just me who thought this, it seems more fun. And I hope everyone had a nice Christmas/Yule!

Scaramouche

at first you were only a filthy human to him, something to suck the life out of before discarding you in the dirt. But, he began to become fond of you; his adoration grew for you quickly and his earlier plans of using you were soon scrapped and never revealed to you.

He could never dream of harming you, he feels sick just thinking about it. Scara has never felt this way about anyone before and he couldn't bare to let go now. The vampire was far too infatuated with your overall self

Scaramouche's heart dropped at the moment you caught him feeding on one of his unlucky victims and he grimaced at the blood curdling scream you let out at the sight of his sharp fangs and mouth smothered with crimson liquid.

He sobbed loudly as he tried to excuse his disgusting actions. His hand desperately reached for you when your body moved away from him. Scara couldn't let you leave him, he didn't want to suffer being unwanted again.

After calming himself and you down, scara begged you to understand his hunger and love for you. "please...please don't hate me." he wailed like a widow, his fingers clutching around yours in desperation.

He buried his head into your shoulder, scaramouches tears dampened the fabric of your clothing. "I love you, did I tell you that before? " he confessed. Scara wanted you to love him, but how could you love a monster like him?

You held him as he sobbed softly, wanting to comfort him, you told him that it was okay. It was okay that he wasn't perfect. You bravely told him that he was allowed to feed on you. "...a-are you sure? "

You nodded and unbuttoned your shirt slightly; revealing the supple flesh of your neck. scaramouche stared at you lovingly as his teeth sunk into your neck.

His arms snaked around your waist as you let a out a slight whimper of pain. Blood dripped from your wound, staining your skin and the stench overwhelmed you as the pain grew in your neck; you found yourself feeling dizzy as he clung to you.

After what felt like an eternity he pulled his head away before carefully lapping his tongue over the sore red mark. "thank you, my love." he leaned up and roughly mushed his lips against yours, passionately showing his undying love for you.

Xiao

He was your best friend, you shared absolutely anything with each other. There were no secrets between you right?

Xiao had been surviving off the blood of lambs and deer which he had slaughtered by his own red stained hands. He couldn't dream of physically biting into a person. Especially you.

But, that one faithful night, his hunger grew when this filthy animal blood did not satisfy him one bit. You were the only person he thought to go too...so he did.

You felt a breeze as you slept peacefully in your bedroom, making you shiver and furrow your eyebrows. Xiao has quietly opened your window in the middle of the night, thirsty for you.

Xiao treaded lightly into your room; seeing you're sleeping form he decided to wake you gently. He shook your shoulders and pressed a hand to your mouth when you suddenly let out a shreak. "s-shh...it's just me..." he whispered before sighing, "I'm sorry..."

You eventually calmed down from your sudden fright. "xiao?...xiao why are you here?" you pondered in curiosity. "I need something. something incredibly selfish of me to ask for." he parted his lips, revealing his sharp fangs, you clasped your hands over your mouth and gasped softly.

"...please don't be scared." he begged. You nodded slowly before letting him pull down your night wear, his hands clutching at the silk fabric. His lips immediately latched onto your neck, slobbering over your shoulders as he pressed wet kisses onto you, as if to prepare you for his teeth.

His fangs soon pressed into you. "...xiao. It hurts." you groaned in displeasure as he sucked on your skin, blood trickling down his jaw as he stared up at you with his peircing dead eyes.

Finally, Xiao had finished with his meal, now gently licking your bruised shoulder.

---------

Please don't share my work anywhere, thanks for reading.

#genshin impact #fanfiction #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x reader #x reader #genshin impact x female reader #wanderer fluff #wanderer x female reader #wanderer x male reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x female reader #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x male reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x fem!reader #xiao x male reader #xiao x gender neutral reader

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crow-raven-crow · 7 months

Note

Hello😃 please, can you write a story about Larissa and Reader? They're not in a relationship but are good friends. Reader has a big crush on Larissa and Larissa too but they don't tell each other that. They drink wine every evening but one evening, Reader had something so she couldn't go see Larissa. But then it was canceled so she thought she would surprise Larissa and obvioulsy Reader was so excited that she forgot to knock and openned the door on Larissa masturbating. (To the thought of Larissa, or not, how you like) it was very awkward and they didn't know what to say but they ended up having sex at the end.

Is it good? I hope it is and i hope you want to write it🥰

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

Larissa Weems x f!reader words: ~4.2k 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: fluff, NSFW, voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, oral sex - Larissa receiving, praise kink, shape shifted dick - reader receiving, marking, scratching, choking, slight degradation, mommy kink, dumbification

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: see above

masterlist

AO3 link in title ✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: I WAS SO EXCITED TO WRITE THISSSSSS. ever since I put it in my notes it would creep up into my mind and i couldn't wait until i caught up with everything to write this. sorry it took so long, darling.. I hope this makes up for it xx

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

Laughter filled the dimly lit room as the bottle of wine reached the bottom. You both sat on the couch in Larissa's office, heels far gone and littered somewhere within the room, coats hanging on the backs of chairs, soft blushes on your faces as the only source of light graced you with just enough emission to keep the effects of your rapidly beating heart hidden.

It wasn't uncommon for you to find yourself in Larissa's office, talking over a bottle of her favorite wine, at the end of the day. The friendship between you two had bloomed quickly since you started, the creativity and brains found within you striking an immediate interest in you from the blonde, and the charm and intellect she showed you only seemed to pull you in more.

You remember back to the day you set foot on the grounds as an official professor of Nevermore. Students had arrived a week early to unpack and get used to the new scenery and were scattered all around the front fields and halls. You walked up the stairs and started to tread down the main hall when she had found you first.

She stood tall with her hands clasped in front of her, her hair was in the most meticulous updo and it made you wonder just how long it took her to put it together in the morning. Her height was accentuated by her heels, the clicks and clacks stopping as she laid her eyes on you, and you watched as her smile lightened at the sight of you. She seemed to acknowledge how frazzled you were, you may have been here for an interview before but now you had your whole life to unpack within these walls.

"Hello, darling," Her accent filled your ears and seemed to take away all of your worries. You'd be lying if she didn't make your breath stop in your lungs from the moment you met her. There was a certain feeling that seeped into your skin and settled itself there, a feeling that would always light ablaze whenever you caught sight of her and could burn down forests when she was next to you, when she touched you with her gentle hands..

Oh, how you wished to feel her hands smooth under your shirt, feel those plump lips attach themselves along your skin, wander along every dip and curve to make you hers, to know what it felt like to bring her pleasure, for her to push you against the nearest wall and-

"Are you alright, love?" Her voice broke you from your trance, your face immediately turning red as you let out a small laugh due to the moment she had caught you in. You walked closer to her, the side of your arm rubbing against hers as you watched students laugh and walk around before bringing your gaze up to hers.

"Better with you here.." Your voice had a shrill of confidence within it, setting the flirtatious tone that would carry itself into the rest of your interactions.

You watched as the faintest blush touched her cheeks, her eyes widening just the slightest bit as she fought off a growing smile. You fell in love with the sight, and decided to do your best to see it again and again from then on.

She spent a good portion of her day helping you unpack, a piece of company that wasn't unwelcomed by you as the boxes started to lessen around your new home. That night, you had both gotten distracted after she unpacked a bottle of wine, holding it up to read the label as a small 'ahh' left her lips.

The sound ignited something warm within you, flooding into your abdomen and spreading to every inch that your body took up. You walked up to her, after getting ahold of yourself, to see her rummaging through the cabinets that you had organized just hours earlier, pulling two wine glasses from it and swiftly opening the bottle.

You leaned your side against the counter as she handed you a glass, your fingers brushing together ever so slightly. You held your glass to her, clinking it against her own as the contact ringed throughout the room, before taking a sip, not knowing that she had her gaze burning into your every move.

It was the start to many nights in shared company.

You placed your empty glass on the table as you held a hand in front of your mouth to refrain from laughing. You enjoyed the moments where telling each other about your day turned into spilling the gossip that went around the school during her time here as a student - finding some things unbelievable that students were able to pull off in such a short amount of time.

"So then- they had these.. these posters taped to the walls, fliers," She was cut off by her own laughter every now and then, her hands moving in twists and turns as her voice filled the room. "I don't know how they did it or how they didn't get caught, but lesson learned to any professor with a public social media profile!"

As you caught your breath from the story, she had finished her glass as well, moving forward to place it next to yours and shuffling closer to you on the couch as she leaned back in the process. The action made your heart skip a beat, something that you wouldn't mention but would appreciate all the same.

The clock in her office chimed just as you were going to speak, cutting you off to the sound that midnight had come and welcomed you both into the early hours of the next day. A sigh left your lips as you stared at the clock, a yawn capturing you before you were able to look back.

"Seems we should call it a night, hmm?" Her voice was gentle, bringing comfort to your heart, as she placed her hand onto your thigh. Her thumb traced soothing circles along your exposed skin, making it increasingly harder for you not to lean forward and create a home within her embrace.

You stood, your hand wrapping around her arm as she followed suit, and she led you to the door after draping your coat around your shoulders. The action and close proximity made your breath hitch, her perfume taking over your senses. You could so easily get drunk off of her..

"Same time tomorrow? And it's Friday, so we don't need to worry about how late it'll get, hmm?" She brought a palm to your cheek after you put on your shoes, the contact making you dizzy as you leaned into her touch. You were glad that alcohol ran through your system, allowing your filter to crumble away.

"That would be-" Your ringtone cut you off, confusion taking over you both as you took your phone out of your coat pocket. You laughed, showing Larissa your phone screen and pulling a chuckle and eye roll from her, before answering the call.

"Marilyn, what could you possibly want at this hour?" The conversation was short, but left you ultimately agreeing to go to an event with the botanist, so she wouldn't be alone. You placed your phone back into your coat pocket, a sigh leaving you and a weak smile being thrown at the beautiful principal before you spoke again. "So… I actually can't tomorrow.."

A small pout appeared on the blonde's face, and it was the cutest sight you'd ever seen. You laughed, placing a hand on her arm before rubbing it softly. Your voice was soft, a nice hum projecting from your chest and making contact with her ears. "There will be more nights, Larissa.. Plus~ Just as you said, the weekend is here, and I promise to spend all of Saturday with you to make up for it, hmm?"

Her face lit up at the suggestion, and you quickly wrapped your arms around her shoulders. The action took her off guard, but you felt her slowly wrap hers around your waist, pulling you closer than you already were.

"Then I'll see you Saturday." You felt her voice rumble in her chest, the feeling bringing you comfort and making you realize just how tired you had grown. She opened the door, her hand smoothing down to the small of your back as she guided you out of her office. "Goodnight, darling."

"Goodnight, Riss.." You turned around as you spoke, smiling at the pet name she gave you, before turning down the hall and heading in for the night.

You sat at your vanity, your curtains pulled back to allow what was left of the sun to seep in through the window, as your favorite playlist chimed from your phone. You were adding the finishing touches to your appearance, your hair was curled and some of your best features were on display with the dress you wore, the lace sleeves fell from your shoulders, framing your collarbones and the necklace that rested just above them. Your earrings matched the necklace, shining through your hair as they caught the light.

You stood from your seat, your maroon dress flowing down to your knees as you grabbed your dark heels and slipped them on. You added a few sprays of your perfume and took one last glance in the mirror before you left your quarters. Confidence beamed within you, and, though this wasn't the biggest event, you always took the opportunity to dress up.

You turned the last corner, your heels echoing through the main hall before the familiar name popped up on your phone once more. As you answered, you had caught the eyes of some of your students, their giggling nature throwing you waves and smiled, never seeing you dressed like this super often.

"Hello?" You continued walking, stopping at the main entrance and resting against one of the pillars at the top of the stairs. She rambled on with apologies, ending with the fact that the small event had been cancelled and ended the call.

You stood there bewildered for a moment, before a new wave of energy ran through you. This meant you'd get to see Larissa today! Your thoughts flashed back to her pouty figure from last night, and you headed towards her office, knowing this would be a good surprise for the sapphire goddess.

Larissa had gotten ahead of her work, the excitement to spend the day with you tomorrow overshadowing her disappointment in not seeing you today. But she still found her thoughts wandering off to you as she worked. The alcohol made her bold last night, more than she normally was as she'd grown comfortable in your presence. The feelings that she held for you had bloomed into something much greater, and she didn't know how much longer she would be able to keep it a secret from you.

She shut her laptop in slight frustration, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose before leaning against the back of her chair. You hadn't left her mind, and it killed her to think about what you looked like in your dress, how it hugged every one of your beautiful curves, what features it exposed to the world, exactly what you wore beneath it all.. what your skin would feel like under her touch.. what beautiful sounds she could pull from you-

She shook herself out of her trance, her face was hot and her heart was pounding. She clearly couldn't focus with you on her mind.. so maybe she could take a moment to herself..

She hiked her dress up, pulling the fabric over the curve of her hips before snaking a hand between her thighs. She moved the last piece of fabric to the side, taking in a sharp breath as the cool air met her core, before swiping her fingers through her heat.

A moan left her at the delicious feeling, her fingers coming up to circle her sensitive bud to get lost in pleasure. Her mind filled with images of you, whimpers and moans leaving her lips as she imagined that her fingers were yours. Her heart longed for the feeling as her mind dove into the pleasure. She threw her head back, resting it against the back of her chair as your name came out in an unadulterated moan.

You came up to her office doors, resting your hand on the cool metal of the doorknob and pausing. You found yourself nervous.. Maybe she wouldn't like the surprise, maybe she was busy, maybe-

No.. You loved her company, and, if last night told you anything, it was that she enjoyed yours too.

You heard her voice on the other side of the door, the thick wood making it fuzzy and unreadable. You assumed she was in a meeting, so it would be best if you opened it quietly and watched as her face lit up in your presence.

You pushed the door open, being sure not to let it creak, before stepping inside. You froze in your spot, quickly pushing the door closed behind you with your foot and locking the door at the sight. Your face flushed as your name left her lips, your heart pounding in your ears as you couldn't rip your eyes away. Your voice rang out quietly. "Larissa.."

Her movements stilled as her eyes shot open before landing on your form. You looked absolutely delectable in your outfit, but it was a matter that she couldn't dwell on as she rapidly collected her composure. "I-I am so, terrible sorry, Y/n.. That was wildly unprofessional of me and I-"

"There's nothing to apologize for, but I don't recall telling you to stop." You cut her off, slowly walking closer and stopping at the other side of her desk. You took in her form and loved the way she squirmed at the sound of your voice.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"If you're uncomfortable, then I understand and will stop.." You shot her a reassuring glance, being met with growing desire unbashfully swirling in her eyes. "But.. if you want this.."

You were thrown rapid nods at your words, ignoring your heart rate as it quickened. You leaned in closer, resting your hands against the desk before speaking. "I need words, my love.."

"Yes, I do, yes.."

"Good girl.." Her chest heaved as your eyes bore into her. You spoke again, just above a whisper this time. "Now, please continue what kept you so, very occupied that you didn't even notice me come in.."

You watched as she leaned back, a hand pulling her dress back up and pulling her panties down, this time. Her hand snaked around her pale skin, touching every place where you wished you could place your lips, ever place you knew you would leave marks..

Her fingers met her core again, diving in as far as they could as the palm of her hand worked against her clit. It made your mouth water seeing how her eyes fluttered shut, how her fingers worked in and out of her slowly to tease herself, how her chest rose and fell, her breath hitching whenever she touched a particularly sweet spot.. You couldn't help but moan at the sight, a sound that made a new wave of arousal shoot through the blonde..

You needed to taste her..

You rounded the desk, the sound of your heels pulling her eyes open as her half lidded eyes tried to focus on your moments. You stood in front of her, taking in the sight so close, before dropping to your knees. Warmth flooded your core at the sweet smell of her, your hands coming up to trace along her calves, lifting one leg to rest on top of your shoulder as the other left beautiful red scratches on the outside of her thigh.

You kissed your way up one leg, looking up at her as you got closer and closer to her core, before pulling away completely. The action made a loud whimper leave the blonde, only egging you on to receive more out of her.

You watched as her movements quickened, her moans getting louder as she was quickly arriving to her peak, but you wouldn't allow her to get off so easily..

You grabbed her wrist, stilling her movements, and pulled her fingers out of her core. She shuddered at the missing contact, pleas flooding from her lips before her words stopped completely at the sight of you taking her fingers into your mouth.

Lust swirled in your eyes as you licked from the base of her fingers and up to their tips, a moan being pulled from you as you finally tasted her, your hot breath making contact along her skin before you took them in your mouth completely. Your eyes closed in absolute delight as you tried to take every ounce of her arousal that she had to offer there, releasing them with a small 'pop' sound as you finished and caught your breath.

She looked down at you with an expression that would bring you to your knees if you weren't there already. You let go of her wrist, bringing your hand back to her thigh before you kissed up her other leg, leaving marks along the skin. You kissed along her slit, loving how her juices spilled out of her from your actions, before running your tongue through her folds.

She threw her head back, a near pornographic moan leaving her lips as she arched into your touch. Your pace was agonizingly slow to her, the need that she wanted, that she craved towards you was like an undying flame that only grew larger as you continued to work your tongue in and out of her.

You had imagined this moment time and time again, your hand moving between your thighs at late hours of the night, fingers teasing your entrance in a shower that became longer than usual, but nothing compared to the real thing, nothing compared to the way she tasted, the way she squirmed under your touch.

Her fingers made their way into your hair, pulling your head closer as you could feel her getting closer to bliss. You took the opportunity to move your tongue to her clit, your fingers easily sliding into her and curling at just the right spot to make her see stars.

"Y/n! I-I.. Please, please- I'm s-so-" Moans flooded out of her and filled your entire being, making the rest of the world fade away as you pulled the sweet sounds from the beauty.

A moan escaped you as you felt her clench around your fingers, being sure to curl against her sweet spot and send her into an all consuming wave of pleasure. Her mouth hung open as she came, her brows furrowed and her thighs closed around you as she let out hisses and cusses as you brought her down from ecstasy. You were sure to take whatever she gave you, only pulling away when you had licked away her cum.

You took in her form as you very slowly pulled away, her chest heaved and her face was flushed, her bottom lip was between her teeth. Pride welled within you at how disheveled you had made the goddess, but it was quickly stolen away, along with every sliver of air your lungs held, as her hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you up up up until you were sat on her lap.

The action alone made the energy in the air shift, any and all of your dominance being sucked out of you and transferred into the blonde. Your hands landed on her shoulders, your fingers gripping the fabric that sat there, as it became your turn to plead. The pressure that she had at your throat was delicious and dizzying, a whimper leaving you as she tightened her grip ever so slightly.

"You sweet thing.." She pulled you close, her breath tickling the side of your ear as more words flooded past her lips. "Thank you for treating me, but it seems it is so easy to knock you down from your high pedestal.. Let me treat you.."

A shiver had run down your spine as she started pressing kisses along your neck, the hand that was around your throat rubbing there softly before circling around your body and pulling down the zipper of your dress. You leaned into her touch, quickly getting lost in the way her tongue felt against your skin, how she was so gentle yet so eager to explore your body.

Your breath hitched as she found your pulse point, waisting no time in leaving dark marks against your skin. Your nails dug into her shoulder and one hand curled around to the back of her neck as you quickly got addicted to her.

Her hands made their way to the bottom of your dress, pulling the fabric off and discarding it somewhere in the room. Her eyes burned paths along your skin, and her eyes darkened at the matching lingerie that was hidden from her until now. Her fingers traced the edges of the fabric, lighting goosebumps in their wake.

"So beautiful.. and mine for the taking.. Isn't that right, sweet girl?" Her fingertips had moved to the bottom of your chin, forcing your gaze to hers as you were already turning to putty under her touch.

"Yes-" Your voice came out quicker and much more breathy than you had wanted, but the woman had snuck her way into your heart and mind, pulling at every string, biting at every piece that made you tick. "I'll be good, just please.."

That last part seemed to break her remaining resolve, the new feeling of a bulge underneath you taking away any other thoughts that you had as her accent filled your senses once more. "You'll be good for mommy and take everything I have, hmm?"

She adjusted, tearing off the layers of clothing from both of your bodies, before teasing her member through your slit, sliding in the tiniest bit before moving away. You had turned into a mess of begging, something she never thought she'd see, something she'd never thought she would be the cause of.. something she couldn't get enough of..

"Such a good girl for mommy.. You can take it.." Her voice was low, echoing in your head as nothing else existed.

"Yes- mommy please- I can take it I-" You were cut off as she filled you to the brim, your hips being pushed down until you took all of her at once, the stretch making you throw your head back in pain filled pleasure.

She gave you time to adjust, waiting for your approval before she started to move. Your mind clouded over, the feeling of her dick inside of you as your rocked your hips being the only thing that you were able to focus on. The sounds she was pulling from you were needy, heavenly, absolutely lustful, and it grew the need for her to be the reason you came.

Her pace quickened, becoming rough as the sound of your skin slapping together filled the room. Her fingers dug into your hips and you were sure that there would be marks left there for days, so you returned the favor, scratching into her back and making her hiss in delectable pain.

She could feel every inch of you, and with the way your moans and whimpers grew higher in pitch, she could tell that you were close. "Come for me, sweet girl.. Let go and cum all over mommy's dick.."

Profanities were quick to leave your mouth, the tight knot that quickly built in your abdomen threatening to break. Her words seemed to be your breaking point, the rope snapping as you came, and Larissa following suit right after.

Your heavy breaths filled the room as you came down from your orgasms. Your head was buried in the crook of Larissa's neck, a whimper leaving your lips as she shifted back to her true form before she rubbed soothing circles over the soft skin of your back.

"You did so well, so nice for me, darling.." You had only hummed in response, still lost in the aftermath of the unexpected event that had took place. She acknowledged this, standing and bringing you to her private quarters where she laid you on the bed.

She was quick to clean you up, grab you some water and wrap you lovingly in her arms as she pressed the softest kisses along your hairline. The action made you smile, your eyes fluttering open as you looked up to capture her lips in yours.

The kiss was sweet, consuming your heart in a way that contrasted the bold actions of the night, making both of your hearts swell in what was going to be instead of what could be.

You spent quite awhile just looking into each others eyes, a new spark, a new flame laying beneath them that had sat dormant for a long time. The sight made you smile, your arms wrapping around her and pulling yourself closer as sleep took you both in its hold, knowing that you were at home in each others arms.

You were right to feel glad that the event was cancelled

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: AAHHAHAHHHHH AHAHHHHH

THIS WAS SOOOOOOOOOOOOO IM FUCKING SCREAMING AHHA

When I tell you I kept thinking about how this was going to go I am not lying because there is another req that i linked with this and i was scared that they would be too similar BUT THEY ARENT AND IM GLAD

i hope yall enjoyed. it was the first time i dove into some of these so i'm hoping it turned out good LOL

thank you for the ask, lovely anon <3

let me know if you want to be tagged in my works ! and click here to see a little update on what i'll be posting

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐯𝐲𝐧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

@autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @s-c-rambledeggs @vendocrap8008 @gwendolinechristieiscute @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian @lvinhs

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thewulf · 15 days

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Entwined Realms || Legolas

Summary: Request: So I thought about this idea with Legolas x reader where the reader is the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn (which makes her princess of Lothlorien and a very high elf) and she is nervous because its commonly known that Galadriel and Thranduil dont like each other (she is still his superior but you get the point) and the reader and Legolas have a dinner or some council or something together with their parents.

A/N: This was one of my favs to write. Just love everything LOTR... please keep them coming! Thank you for the request @lillisummers

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.1k +

TW: Talks of war/death

In the timeless realm of Lothlórien, you, the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, walked among the golden trees with a heavy heart filled with the weight of ancient grudges. It had been many years since you last tread upon these familiar paths, for you had spent much of your time in Rivendell, aiding in the healing of those who bore the scars of war.

As a princess of the high elves, you bore the burden of your lineage with grace. Yet the tension between your mother and Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood, weighed heavily upon you. The animosity between them was no secret, and you often found yourself caught in the midst of their disagreements. You were torn between loyalty to your mother and the desire for unity among your people after the war of the ring. Your return to Lothlórien had been sudden, called back by your father during the darkest days of the war. The news of battles raging across middle earth had filled you with dread. Yet, you knew that your place was by your family's side, lending whatever aid you could in the struggle against the darkness.

Despite the discord that lingered between your realms you held onto hope, believing in the power of unity to overcome adversity. The memories of Celebrian's capture and torture haunted you still. She drove your determination to see an end to the suffering that had plagued your people for so long.

As you walked beneath the golden canopy of the trees, you found solace in the familiar sights and sounds of Lothlórien. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the branches. They spoke to you of peace and beauty, reminding you of all that was worth fighting for in this world. Your steps carried you towards a familiar spot. The quiet glade where the gravestones of those fallen in battle lay. The air was hushed. The only sound was the soft whisper of leaves and the gentle trickle of water from the nearby streams.

Stopping by the gravestones, you traced your fingers over each weathered stone, feeling the weight of loss settle upon your heart. Here, beneath the earth, lay the brave souls who had given their lives in service of a greater cause. A cause that you had fought for alongside them. Your thoughts turned to Haldir, the gallant Marchwarden who had stood by your side in the darkest of times. His laughter, his kindness, his unwavering loyalty… they were memories that you held dear, memories that would live on long after he had passed from this world. At one point you were convinced you would marry him but that was before he was taken so suddenly from you.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself a moment of silence. A moment to remember those who had been taken from you too soon. Their faces flashed before your eyes, friends, fighters, and loved ones alike. Each one leaving behind an indelible mark upon your soul. And yet, amidst the sorrow, there was also hope. Hope for a future where their sacrifices would not be in vain. Where the darkness would be banished for good and the light would shine so brightly once more. With a silent prayer upon your lips, you vowed to carry their memory with you always, to honor their legacy in all that you did.

As you stood amidst the gravestones, lost in memories and reflections, a soft voice broke through the silence. She was calling your name. You turned to see your mother, Galadriel, approaching with a gentle smile upon her lips. Her eyes, always so wise and knowing, held a depth of understanding that eased the ache in your heart.

"Y/n," she said, her voice like the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, "I have been searching for you. It is good to see you home again. You look well my love."

You returned her smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you at the sight of her familiar face. "It is good to be home, Mother," you replied, stepping forward to embrace her.

Galadriel held you close, tight. Her arms a reassuring embrace amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling within you. "You have been missed, my dear," she said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As you pulled away, Galadriel's gaze softened. Her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and affection. "There is much to discuss," she said, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "But first, I have news that I believe will bring you much joy."

Curiosity piqued, you listened as Galadriel spoke of the upcoming marriage between your niece, Arwen, and Aragorn, the King of Gondor. The news filled you with a sense of anticipation, the prospect of a wedding bringing a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had shrouded middle earth for so long. "I would be honored to attend," you said. Your heart swelling with love for your family and excitement for the joyous occasion to come.

Galadriel smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "I had no doubt that you would," she said, her voice tinged with warmth. "Come, let us return to Caras Galadhon and begin preparations. There is much to do, and little time to waste." She motioned you to follow her.

With a nod of agreement, you fell into step beside your mother. It felt as though the weight of grief and loss lightened by the promise of love and celebration on the horizon. As you walked the golden light of Lothlórien illuminated your path guiding you towards a future filled with possibility.

Too quickly the day of celebration arrived. The grand halls of Minas Tirith were adorned with banners and flowers, filling the air with a sense of festivity and anticipation. You, dressed in your finest elven attire, mingled with the guests. Your heart was aflutter with excitement and nerves for your niece and the King of Gondor. Amidst the bustling crowd, your eyes scanned the faces of those gathered taking in the sight of strangers and acquaintances alike. And then your gaze met that of a mysterious elven stranger across the ornate courtyard who you did not recognize.

His eyes were a captivating shade of blue. They held a warmth and kindness that drew you in, sending a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment it felt as though the world around you had faded away leaving only you and this enigmatic stranger in a universe of your own making. But as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. Broken by the sound of laughter and music drifting through the air you tore your gaze away. Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of curiosity and excitement, heart racing with the memory of that brief but electrifying encounter.

Though you knew not who he was, nor what fate had in store for you. You couldn't shake the feeling that this chance meeting was somehow significant. And as you allowed yourself to be swept away by the joyous festivities you couldn't help but wonder about the identity of the mysterious elven stranger who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the celebration unfolded you found yourself standing beside Arwen, basking in the glow of her happiness as she greeted guests and well-wishers. The air was filled with laughter and music. The joyous atmosphere infectious as people celebrated the union of Arwen and Aragorn. But amidst the revelry your attention kept drifting back to the beautiful blonde elf who had caught your eye earlier. He stood amidst a group of guests, his presence commanding and his gaze holding a quiet intensity that seemed to draw you in.

Unable to contain your curiosity any longer you turned to Arwen with a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Arwen," you began, pointing subtly towards the mysterious elf, "who is that?"

Arwen followed your gaze, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she noticed your interest in the stranger. "Ah, him," she said, her tone tinged with mystery. "That is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas. The name echoed in your mind. Though you knew little about him there was something about the way he carried himself, the way his eyes seemed to hold a thousand untold stories that intrigued you beyond measure. As Arwen spoke of Legolas' exploits and noble deeds you found yourself captivated by the tales of his courage and valor. And though you knew it was foolish to be so taken with a stranger, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to him. Something that called to you on a level you couldn't quite understand.

With a grateful smile you thanked Arwen for indulging your curiosity. Though your mind was already consumed with thoughts of the mysterious Prince of Mirkwood. And as you turned your attention back to the festivities you couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden beneath the surface of the captivating blonde elf who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. You found yourself drawn into the lively conversations and laughter that filled the air.

As if he had known your every thought, he had come right up to you. A charming smile playing on his lips as he offered you a goblet of wine. "Care for some wine, my lady?" he asked, his voice smooth and all too inviting.

Grateful for the distraction you accepted the goblet with a smile, the cool liquid soothing the nerves that had been fluttering in your stomach. "Thank you," you replied, taking a sip and relishing the taste of the rich, fruity wine.

As you savored the wine, Legolas took a seat beside you. His eyes alight with curiosity as he extended his hand in introduction. "I am Legolas," he said, his tone warm and genuine. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

You felt a rush of excitement at the sound of his name, "And I am Y/n," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness that you quickly tried to mask.

Legolas smiled warmly at you, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he raised his own goblet in a silent toast. "Well then, Y/n, here's to new acquaintances and delightful conversations," he spoke.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Legolas. His easy charm and quick wit putting you at ease. Despite your initial nervousness you soon found yourself laughing and chatting with him as if you had known each other for years. With each passing moment you felt yourself growing more and more enchanted by Legolas. His presence filling you with a sense of warmth and belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time. Not since before your sister had set sail. And as you shared stories and laughter with the captivating Prince of Mirkwood you couldn't help but wonder what adventures lay in store for you both in the days to come.

When the topic turned to your family, you couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension, unsure of how he would react upon learning the truth. "Your parents must be proud of you," Legolas remarked, his voice sincere as he glanced around at the grandeur of Minas Tirith. "To have a daughter as kind and courageous as you."

You smiled, touched by his words. Though a part of you hesitated to reveal your true lineage. "Thank you, Legolas," you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "My parents... they are indeed proud, though our family is not without its complexities."

Legolas cocked his head with curiosity shining bright in his eyes. "Complexities?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for his reaction. "My parents are Celeborn and Galadriel," you confessed, watching closely for any sign of recognition or judgment in his expression.

To your surprise, Legolas' eyes widened in genuine surprise, his gaze softening with understanding. "Galadriel," he murmured, a hint of awe in his voice. "The Lady of Light herself. And Celeborn, the Lord of Lothlórien."

You nodded, relieved by his reaction. "Yes, though our family is not without its challenges," you admitted, your voice growing quiet. "There are... tensions between my parents and certain others in Middle-earth." You knew he knew, and he knew you knew. The two of you were dancing around your parents disdain for the other.

Legolas' expression grew somber. A shadow passing over his features. "I understand," he said, his tone tinged with empathy. "My own father, Thranduil, can be... difficult at times."

You felt a surge of empathy for Legolas knowing all too well the challenges that could arise from strained familial relationships. "It seems we are not so different after all," you said. A small smile playing at your lips.

Legolas returned your smile, his eyes warm and understanding. "Indeed," he said, his voice gentle. "But perhaps together, we can find a way to bridge the divide between our families."

Touched by his sincerity you could only keep grinning at him like a fool. "I would like that, Legolas," you replied. Your heart swelled with gratitude for the bond that was beginning to form between you.

As the night wore on into the wee hours of the morning you and Legolas found yourselves drawn deeper into each other's company. The hours quickly slipping away unnoticed as you laughed and talked beneath the starlit sky. The connection between you grew stronger with each passing moment. A bond of friendship and understanding blossoming into something deeper and more profound. Unfortunately, the celebration began to wind down. You found yourselves reluctant to part ways. The prospect of saying goodbye filling you with a sense of melancholy. "Perhaps we could extend our stay in Minas Tirith," Legolas suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of worry as if you wouldn’t accept. "There is still so much more to see and do. I have not seen this city without war disparaging it."

You nodded eagerly, the idea of spending more time with Legolas filling you with a sense of joy and excitement. "I would like that very much," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There is still so much more we have yet to see. You distracted me tonight."

And so, you and Legolas remained in Minas Tirith for longer than planned, seizing every opportunity to steal away moments alone together amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. Whether wandering the streets hand in hand or sharing quiet conversations in secluded corners. Each moment spent in Legolas' company felt like a precious treasure, a memory to be cherished for eternity.

As your extended stay in Minis Tirith came to an end the bond between you and Legolas deepened further than you could have imagined. Your hearts intertwining in a dance as old as time itself. One evening beneath the stars after your going away dinner the two of you sat together in the quiet solitude of the gardens, surrounded by the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of crickets. The words you had been longing to say spilled forth from your lips.

"Legolas," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "there is something I must confess to you." It truly was now or never for you did not know the next time you would see the elf that had captured your heart so quickly.

Legolas turned to you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Yes, Y/n?" he replied, his voice soft and reassuring.

"I know this is quick,” you began, your voice soft and hesitant, "And we tend to do this slow, but I must admit... I really like you. More than a friend would."

You glanced away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you awaited his response. But when you dared to meet his gaze once more you found Legolas looking at you with a tender smile. His eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored your own feelings.

"Y/n," he said softly, reaching out to gently take your face in his hand, "your honesty means the world to me. I too have come to care for you deeply as well. As more than a friend would."

Your heart soared at his words. A sense of joy flooding through you at the knowledge that your feelings were reciprocated. And as you sat together in the quiet beauty of the gardens you knew that your bond with Legolas was something truly special. It was the beginning of a love story that was just beginning to unfold.

You didn’t want the night to end so you kept your wandering through the gardens. "Legolas," you began, your voice tinged with concern, "what do you think about... our families?"

Legolas glanced at you. His gaze thoughtful. "Ah, our esteemed parents," he replied with a wry smile. "Stubborn as ancient oaks and twice as difficult to move."

You couldn't help but laugh at his analogy, feeling a sense of relief at his lighthearted approach to the situation. "Yes, that's one way to put it," you agreed. A smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"But," Legolas continued, his tone turning more serious, "I believe they will come around in time. After all, love has a way of softening even the hardest of hearts."

You nodded feeling a flicker of hope kindling within you. "I hope you're right," you replied, leaning closer to him. "I just want them to see... how much we care for each other."

Legolas placed a comforting arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him. "They will, Y/n," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "And until then, we'll just have to prove them wrong together."

As your time in Minas Tirith drew to a close, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was time for your parents and Legolas to meet. Despite the tension between your families, you were determined to show them that love knew no bounds, and that their differences could be set aside in the name of happiness.

On the morning that both of you were to depart you knew what you had to do. "Legolas," you began. Your voice tinged with nervousness, "I know it's unconventional, but... what if you and your father were to visit Lothlórien?"

Legolas blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by your suggestion. "Visit Lothlórien?" he echoed, his brow furrowing in thought. "It's an... intriguing idea, Y/n, but I'm not sure how my father would feel about it."

You nodded, understanding Legolas' reservations. "I know it's a risk," you admitted, "but I believe that if he could experience the beauty and hospitality of Lothlórien for himself, he might begin to understand... and perhaps even appreciate our way of life."

Legolas considered your words for a moment before a smile spread across his face. "You may be right, Y/n," he said, his eyes alight with excitement. "Let's extend the invitation to my father and see what he says."

With a renewed sense of hope, you and Legolas set about preparing for Thranduil's visit to Lothlórien. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were determined to show both him and your parents that love could conquer even the deepest of divides. And so, with hearts full of anticipation and determination, you bid farewell to Minas Tirith. You knew that a new chapter of your journey was about to begin.

As Legolas and an initially reluctant Thranduil arrived in Lothlórien, the tension between them was palpable. Thranduil's expression was stoic and reserved, while Legolas wore a strained smile who was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. You greeted them warmly, hoping to ease the atmosphere, but even your efforts seemed to fall flat in the face of the lingering animosity between your parents. The initial interactions were awkward only filled with polite but strained conversation and forced smiles.

But as the evening progressed and the wine flowed freely the atmosphere began to shift. Your parents, Thranduil, and Legolas found themselves gradually relaxing in each other's company. The rigid barriers between them slowly melting away under the influence of hope after the war and shared experiences. You watched with a mixture of joy and relief as the tension dissipated, replaced by laughter and genuine conversation. Thranduil who had initially been so guarded found himself opening up. He began to share stories and jokes with Celeborn and Galadriel as if they were old friends.

And Legolas, too, seemed to come alive in the warmth of his father’s acceptance. His smile growing more genuine with each passing moment. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders finally allowing him to truly be himself in their presence. He chuckled at one of Thranduil's jokes and clinked glasses with Celeborn, a genuine smile gracing his features.

In the midst of the conversation Legolas turned to you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Meleth nin," he said softly, his voice filled with utmost warmth.

As Legolas inadvertently uttered the Elvish endearment, my love, the words hung in the air laden with the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart skipped a beat at his slip-up, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through you.

"Really?" you exclaimed. Your eyes widened with surprise and utmost delight. For a moment you almost forgot that your parents and Legolas' father were present too caught up in the rush of emotion that swept over you.

Legolas blinked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realized what he had said in front of the parents. "I... uh, I mean..." he stammered, clearly flustered by your reaction.

But before he could finish, Thranduil let out a soft chuckle. The elvenking’s eyes twinkling with amusement. "It seems our children are more than just friends," he remarked to your parents. His tone surprisingly light-hearted.

You turned to your parents with a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I guess we should have mentioned that sooner," you admitted feeling a surge of relief as you saw their understanding smiles.

Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged knowing glances before Celeborn spoke up. "Love has a way of revealing itself in unexpected ways," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "We are happy for you both."

Thranduil let out a small chuckle. His eyes crinkling with amusement. "Young love," he said before shaking his head in mock exasperation. "It seems like only yesterday that Legolas was just a boy chasing after butterflies in the woods."

Legolas rolled his eyes playfully at his father's comment. "I assure you, Ada, I have grown up a bit since then," he spoke. His tone teasing but affectionate.

Celeborn chuckled softly his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice warm. "But some things never change." He motioned to you with a knowing grin.

And as the tension melted away completely, replaced by laughter, and shared understanding, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unwavering support of your parents. With their blessing and acceptance, you and Legolas knew that your love story was only just beginning. You were finally destined to have a beautiful and unforgettable journey filled with laughter, joy, and the sweet promise of a future together. You had waited a long time for this. A very long time.

As the night grew deeper and the fire crackled softly, you and Legolas found yourselves immersed in a comfortable silence. The two of you basking in the warmth of each other's presence. Legolas turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes, taking your hand in his. "Well, my dear, it seems the hour grows late," he remarked, his voice soft and warm.

You nodded feeling a surge of affection for the elf beside you. "Yes, it does," you replied, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

With a gentle tug on your hand Legolas rose to his feet pulling you up with him. "Allow me to escort you to your room," he said. His voice filled with gentle sincerity.

You followed him, the touch of his hand sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As you reached your door, Legolas turned to you. His eyes sparkling with mischief. "Until next time, meleth nin," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before turning to leave.

A faint blush coated your cheeks at his actions. “Until next time, meleth nin.” You repeated. You watched him go with a smile playing at your lips as you realized that no matter what adventures lay ahead, you would face them with him. Oh, what a life.

Taglist Sign Up: @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kenn-spencerswifey @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

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avocado-writing · 3 months

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Oooh, for bg3 asks, I’d LOVE some Tav bonding with Halsin ♥️ Trauma dumping, or being out in nature together, or maybe realising they’re catching feelings? Whichever you feel like, thank you so much in advance, hope you are doing well ♥️

notes: I have wild, carnal desires for this man. should be gender neutral, only description is that your lips are “pretty” and you’re shorter than him!

pairing: halsin x reader

rating: M

“Halsin, I’m going to gather some firewood. Care to join me?”

Halsin looks up to where you stand at the edge of the camp, hand on your hip and head cocked to one side, easy grin on your pretty lips. He resists the urge to glance over to where the firewood pile is - many logs high already, far more than you likely need - because the two of you know that this is just an excuse to spend some time alone together.

Halsin makes a show of standing and stretching, smiling down at you.

“Why not? It will be nice to go for a walk.”

“We’ve been walking all day,” shouts Astarion from the other side of the camp, glaring over the top of his book. He’s just irritated because, rather than being at the Elfsong, business has called you back to Wyrm’s Crossing and camping life. You roll your eyes and flip him a good-natured rude gesture.

“Good thing you aren’t invited then, hmm?” you turn to the druid, and he loves the way your face lights up when you’re being silly with your friends. It stirs something in his old heart.

“Lead on.”

You do, you’re beginning to know the woods pretty well around Baldur’s Gate. They aren’t as vast as the ones which Halsin is used to at home, but at least it’s a break from the suffocating stone walls and brick roads of the city. It’s good to be back in nature and he can feel his energy slowly return - it is a salve for his soul, and with you by his side? Well. It is heaven.

Halsin takes a moment to watch you. You tread with a sure-footedness to rival his own through the detritus of the forest floor, pausing only so that you can carefully hop up onto a fallen tree and use it as a makeshift balancing beam. He observes fondly as you place one foot in front of the other, heel to toe, balancing upon the crumbling bark with your arms outstretched.

“You don’t like to stay still, do you?”

You throw him a look over your shoulder and grin, making a show of tumbling forward into a perfect cartwheel and alighting gracefully on the gnarled roots.

“I don’t. Sorry. It’s far too boring otherwise.”

“Never apologise. I find it…”

Enchanting, he longs to say. Captivating. So utterly and wonderfully you. But he doesn’t want to overwhelm you with his feelings so he settles on, “endearing.”

“Oh, ‘endearing’?” you tease with a little laugh, “I’m glad that I endear myself to you, archdruid.”

You look down, seeing how high up you’ve ended, and Halsin steps in to help you back to terra firma. Clearly he’s played right into your plan because you wrap your arms around his neck and press your body to his, sliding down to the ground but not breaking the embrace.

“I’ve been thinking about you, you know,” you say, softly, eyes twinkling.

“Oh?” he raises a brow; feels something stir.

“Haven’t been able to think of much else. The claw marks have only just started to heal.”

You chuckle as he feels himself blush, a rich and full-bodied thing. It is his favourite sound, he thinks. He doesn’t know how he ever lived without it.

“I was worried I was too rough…”

“My dear, you misunderstand. It was not a complaint.”

He can feel your smile as you press your lips to his, and oh he is gone. The things you do to him… surely it must be some sort of enchantment, for he’s never felt so totally enamoured before.

He holds you in the safety of his grasp. His muscled arms engulf you utterly, rooting you into the moment. Oak Father preserve him, he has not stopped thinking about the night that the two of you laid together. The hot tightness of you as he slid inside; how his name fell from your lips like a mantra, a prayer; the way he’d woken next to you the following morning and you’d ridden him again - shining in the glory of the dawning sun with your head thrown back in rapture. You’ve known him both as man and beast, taken everything he was - everything that he was scared you’d run from - and embraced it entirely.

What he’d have given for a repeat, but duty called you elsewhere. He’d been dreaming about it since, quietly taking himself in hand when the rest of the party was asleep, fucking his own palm to completion with your name growled under his breath.

Spellbound. That’s what he is. Spellbound by you.

“Halsin…” you whisper, in that dreamy, honey-dripping way you do, and you do not fight when he finds a soft patch of grass to lay you in.

He wastes not a second, now he has you alone.

A handful of hours have passed by the time the two of you return to camp. Though you both have leaves in your hair, you do not have any firewood.

Wisely, nobody comments.

Taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate

#halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin fic #my writing #request #Bg3 fic

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19burstraat · 1 month

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Ok we all know guild me, build me exists due to my artistic abilities being very lacking in the visual arts, so rather than drawing the crows in the komedie brute, I had to write kaz in. however I had ideas for the others that I couldn't get into a fic, so I've put em down here

Kaz: (description ripped from guild me, build me):

a heavy black cape, sewn with stolen chains and jewels so that it jingled upon every movement (...) It was marked up and slit here and there, on the edges and at the collar, to give the impression of crow’s feathers, and it was made of some kind of shiny, velvety fabric that had the oily shine of crow’s plumage. The gloves were the same material, thinner and more embroidered than Kaz would have ever entertained, and the cane was a plain, inaccurate copy– (...) the mask; a silver crow’s head (...) crooked over the eyes and nose, almost like a Kaelish plague mask. But it left the mouth unblocked; of course it did. Dirtyhands needed to talk.

Inej:

Light and flimsy dark (doesn't have to be black; could be blue or grey) fabric for the veil and cloak. Has an element of spiderwebby fraying to it which is a nod to her being... Well, a spider lmao. But also meant to look ghostly and insubstantial, can sometimes see a metal shiny suggestion of knives underneath it. The veil can be parted just down the side of her face, so you can occasionally see a bit of her face, but never the whole thing. Would not be a practical costume to climb or spy in; too long and bothersome, the same way Kaz's Dirtyhands cloak would not be practical to pickpocket in. Sometimes productions get her a few cheap sheath knives.

Jesper:

Rabbit head mask, short cloak in some batshit colour like green or pink, lined w rabbit's fur and threaded with gambling chips, 'lucky' rabbits feet, coins, and stray bullets. Adornments tied on loosely so they swing everywhere when he moves. This way there's also a real risk of the Kaz and Jesper actors getting tangled together if they interact, which is not symbolic, just funny. This is our get-along Komedie Brute costume :) (we are stuck)

Wylan:

A once-fine red cloak with a high ruffly collar-- now tattered and singed and gone to seed. Little bits of wiring or string or pouches of powders etc sewn into it; sneakily embroidered with the Van Eck laurel around the edges. Mask, while elaborate and matching with the cloak, only covers the top half of his face, as if he's not quite as all-in as the others. For similar reasons, the cloak is half-length.

Matthias:

Wolf's head mask ofc, white fur cape a lot longer and more substantial than Jesper's, with heavy furring around the neck (made to bulk out the actor if they're not the right stature, which most will not be). Likely they also weight his boots to make his tread sound more imposing. Possibly a wig if they can afford one, since Druskelle are known for the long hair.

Nina:

Porcelain-doll Venetian style mask (you know the ones!) with a single black tear-- referential both to that bit in CK when they identified themselves that way in the crowd of Mister Crimsons, and the Queen of Mourning thing. Mask is covered with a very light veil, and she wears a long heavy silk cloak with a bit of a hint of a kefta, but not enough to get the Komedie Brute in shit from Ravkan Grisha lmao. Entrance usually heralded with a blue corpselight.

I imagine dependent on the production and the costumier they could look great and beautifully elaborate, or they could look cheap and shit lmao.

Bonus: I got bored and made a mock-up of a page of a Komedie play. I edited over the first folio for this, yes. Sorry to the Big W.S.

#right I think this is all right now. finally #fuckass blue site so glitchy it posts my shit early.#six of crows #soc duology #my fics #my post #grishaverse

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megalony · 3 months

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Beautiful Destruction- Part 2

This is the second part in my latest Evan Buckley series, I hope you will all like it. Feedback is always amazing, let me know what you think.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff

911 Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: Evan's self-destruct behaviour lands him in therapy, where he connects with (Y/n). Everything starts changing when she transfers to the 118 and their worlds collide.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, your dad tells me you've joined the one-eighteen."

(Y/n) smiled around the rim of her coffee cup and looked down at the swirling puffs of steam circling into the air. She tried to curb her smile down and tame her reaction, she didn't want to seem overly keen or suddenly worried. But one look at Athena had (Y/n)'s eyes creasing at the corners and she put down her cup so it stopped morphing her smile.

"Any specific reason why… is it to do with your dad?" Athena perched her elbows down on the table and placed her cup down in front of her. She had been a little more than surprised when Bobby came home three days ago and told her that (Y/n) was the official new member of the team. The reason (Y/n) didn't join the 118 when she first became a fire fighter was because they didn't want anyone to think Bobby would favour her or lose his judgement with his daughter on the team.

"Felt like I was missing out," (Y/n) shrugged her shoulders while she shuffled forward on her seat and leaned over the table.

"Hm. You sure? I'm glad you both seem happy with the switch, it's just a little sudden."

"I fancied a change, I'm always listening out for their team on the radio, checking in, you know? Thought working with them might be easier."

It was partially true. (Y/n) did cling to the radio when she heard her dad's team attending to a call out or a rapidly spreading fire. She always listened when one of them was being taken to hospital and when they had their mayday calls and it made her anxious. (Y/n) knew if one of her dad's team got injured, it set off his own panic and she always wanted to make sure if he got hurt, she could go straight to him.

Moving to their team would stop that panic and give (Y/n) the feeling of being understood and looked out for. At least if she couldn't count on the rest of the team like her old station, she knew she could always count on her dad to watch her back and make sure she was alright.

"Well you're certainly your father's daughter which will shake things up in that place."

"No kidding. Eddie isn't sure what to make of me and Chimney is kissing my behind to suck up to dad. It's gonna take a while to settle in."

(Y/n) had only worked three shifts with the team so far but she was slowly finding her feet and falling into place with them. She had some medical knowledge and background which meant that while she gelled with Hen and Chimney, she also had a link to Eddie. He wasn't a paramedic like them but he was an army medic and (Y/n) and Eddie were on standby for any medical emergencies that got out of hand.

Hen seemed fine with (Y/n), she had heard about her from Athena, naturally, which was a good thing. But Chimney was gluing himself to (Y/n) so he could ask things about Bobby and try to stay on Bobby's good side. It was endearing but it was also a little unsettling.

Whereas Eddie wasn't sure what to do. He wanted to make her welcome, (Y/n) could sense that. But he didn't want to overstep the mark or do anything that would unsettle the foundations because she was Bobby's daughter that that automatically meant to tread lightly.

Evan was a whole other situation.

It felt rather easy to work alongside Evan and fit in. He automatically took to showing her the ropes and their way of doing things and his joking manner made things simple. They could have a laugh and try to play things cool so no one guessed there was something going on with them behind closed doors.

"You'll fit in just fine, especially after one of their parties." Athena rose her brows and grinned before she finished the rest of her coffee. A party would be just the thing to get (Y/n) officially intergrated into their team and have her become one of them.

If it was anything like the Christmas party, (Y/n) would be in for a treat.

She and Evan might have to abstain from the alcohol though. She could barely remember that night and she knew Evan didn't remember it either. Drunken nights of passion were all well and good, but not when both their minds were ticking time bombs.

When her phone buzzed in her pocket, (Y/n) put down her cup and dug around in her back pocket.

'Hey, kind of had a rough shift. Fancy a drink? Don't wanna be alone tonight. XX'

(Y/n) rolled her lips together as she felt her shoulders slump down. Her weight fell onto her elbows on the table and she sank her teeth into her lower lip.

That didn't sound good.

Evan didn't seem the type who would admit when he had a bad day. From what he said in therapy, he kept his problems to himself. Asking for help wasn't easy for anyone and he wasn't ready to do that yet, but this was close. He was admitting something was wrong and he was asking her for some sort of help. Drinking the night away might not be helpful, but (Y/n) could certainly give Evan some company and check that he was alright.

'Sure, on my way. XX'

"Do you mind if I head off?"

"Sure, you got plans?"

(Y/n) slipped her phone back into her pocket and drained the last drop of her coffee. Evan had timed that right. (Y/n) had come over to have tea with Athena and May who had already shot off back home before her night shift at the call centre. Since they had eaten and the coffee was empty, (Y/n) didn't feel bad about leaving. She had spent the majority of the afternoon with Athena, she could spare the evening for Evan.

"A friend wants to meet for a drink."

Again, she wasn't technically lying. She was just keeping some things to herself.

It surprised (Y/n) how quick it was to get from her dad's house over to Evan's apartment. She wondered fi Evan had realised how close he was to work and to Bobby when he moved in here. He probably did. He seemed like the kind of person who wanted to be surrounded by his family and friends, he didn't want to be far away from those he cared about.

Surprise and apprehension flooded through (Y/n)'s stomach all at once when she approached Evan's apartment and found the door unlocked. He had buzzed her in, logically he had unlocked the door too. But he normally waited for her to knock.

She knocked anyway and slowly opened the door, peeking her head round as she shouted a quiet, "Evan, you okay?"

Her eyes flitted to the kitchen and once she saw his broad frame, she shut the front door behind her and picked up the pace to go into the kitchen. She unhooked her bag from her shoulder and slung down on the counter but (Y/n) couldn't drag her eyes away from him.

Evan was leaning back against the counter next to the sink, pressing his lower back and hips rather tightly into the counter edge. He had one leg crossed over the other, one hand propped up behind him on the counter, presumably to stabalise himself. And a half-full beer bottle in his other hand. The way he rose the bottle to his lips and took a swig made his Adam's apple bob up and down and his neck tensed and flexed.

If she wasn't looking so intently, (Y/n) would have missed the way his head tilted to one side before correcting itself and holding straight again.

"Are you okay… what happened at work?"

He drained the bottle. In one swoop, the last half of the bottle was drunk and he let the bottle drop into the sink with a clash. The sound echoed through the kitchen and made (Y/n) shudder and when she pushed up on her toes to look across at the sink, she sucked in a deep breath. He'd had quite a lot to drink. A few beers, a few shots of vodka by the look of the empty bottle that they had cracked open last week and didn't finish.

"Cap sent me home." Evan's lips pulled into a tight grin that was full of sarcasm but it masked the pain well. The only trace of hurt was swirling in his baby blue eyes that burned into (Y/n)'s so much she felt like melting into a puddle on the floor.

"Why?"

"We had a car crash, the engine caught fire while I was getting the kids out… I got them both out, but they didn't make it."

Evan dropped his head down to stare at his bare feet for a while. It didn't matter that he got them out. It didn't make a difference when Evan crawled out of that car with one kid in each arm and heaved himself over to the ambulance just as the car exploded. All that mattered was his efforts weren't good enough.

Nothing he did was ever good enough and those parents would have to live without two of their three children. Evan couldn't help them.

"Did you get hurt?"

His eyes narrowed and a flash of uncertainty pooled in his eyes. His lips pressed together tightly and he braced both hands on the counter as his eyes followed (Y/n)'s approach.

He stayed still and deathly silent as she moved to stand in front of his legs and leaned her stomach into his like they were about to join in a dance. Her fingertips felt like heaven against his skin and her touch made his skin prickle with heat and adrenaline and his blood fizzled in his veins.

"Why? Doesn't matter, I'm still here-"

"It matters to me. It matters that you would of hurt yourself to get them out." (Y/n) didn't have to be there to know what Evan would have done. She knew he would disobey any order Bobby threw at him to get those kids out. And she knew Evan would of let himself get scolded, burned, scratched and torn apart if it meant getting them out.

He acted first and thought about the consequences later and when he had casualties like this, Evan wouldn't care about his own pain anymore. His turmoil would become irrevelant.

(Y/n) danced her fingertips over his exposed arms, taking in the state of his hands that had a few scold marks near the knuckles and fingertips. His gloves must have started to burn and melt. When she dragged his shirt up to expose his stomach, she watched Evan tip his head back and close his eyes. He wasn't going to stop her. He would do the same if things were the other way around.

No marks, bruises or cuts and burns on his stomach or torso. (Y/n) dragged her hands up to his shoulders and pushed up on her toes so she could lean over his shoulder. He had a minor burn on the back of his neck that went across his right shoulder, but it wasn't deep enough to require hospital treatment.

"Satisfied, baby?"

"No. I'm sorry you lost them, I know it's not easy." Her words made some difference because she wasn't just a girlfriend telling Evan everything was okay. She wasn't an outsider saying she knew what he was going through. (Y/n) had lost people in these situations too, she knew exactly what kind of pain would be rattling through Evan's mind and soul.

"Let's have a drink."

"Evan, baby talk to me-"

"And say what? I almost got crushed to get them out and what good did it do? I carried those kids to the ambulance and… and Bobby wouldn't let me tell their parents I failed them. He wouldn't let me explain how shit I am at this job, that I didn't do it in time."

Words tumbled past his lips before he could stop himself and he waved one hand out in the air before his fingers turned to scratch against his scalp and tug at his hair. He could feel his breaths running away without him and the panic started to bubble back up in his chest.

He hated the panic. It sobered him up. Evan drank to dull down those feelings, not to let them override him again.

"Hey,"

He tried to tilt his head back but he couldn't stop (Y/n) from cupping his face within her palms. Her thumbs brushed beneath his eyes and her fingers stroked against his cheeks as she tilted his head down so she could stand on her tiptoes and press their foreheads together.

They were close enough that Evan could taste her lips and feel each breath she took mingling with his own rapid, shallow breathing.

He couldn't stop himself from reaching up to cup her wrists, silently begging her not to let him go. He didn't want to be without some sort of touch and right now, her touch was the only thing grounding him to the Earth. He let his breaths run away without him but he focused his eyes on hers and shed as many tears as he could to get them out his system.

"Do you want to know what good you did today?"

Evan didn't answer, but he didn't object either, and (Y/n) took that as a sign to keep going.

"You gave those parents closure. One, two, ten seconds later, and they would have no bodies to bury. You don't know what that means to a parent, to have their children home when they pass away. My dad stopped you from telling them because he knew how they would thank you, and he knew you wouldn't be able to handle that. But that's okay, baby. It's okay."

(Y/n) closed her eyes and leaned further into Evan until she finally pressed her lips against his wet, ruby red mouth. She swallowed every little hitched breath and cry he let out, she let him dig his nails into her wrists and sink his teeth down into her lip. And she let his foot reach out and curl around the back of her ankle to drag her closer until every inch of her was pressing down on him.

Evan wanted to feel her weight pushing down on him. He wanted to be pinned between her and the counter to know that he was alive and feel safe with someone who cared.

"But I c-could of saved them-"

"Baby, you don't know that. If they were alive when you got them out, they might still have died on the way to hospital or when they arrived… like my mum." (Y/n) pressed another delicate kiss on Evan's lips while she continued to brush away his tears.

He didn't know what it meant to have loved ones back. (Y/n)'s younger brother died in their house fire years ago but her and Bobby were grateful to the firefighters that managed to get him out. And they were more than grateful that they got her mother out too. She died in the hospital but they still got her out and no one could have done anything more.

No one was blaming Evan; he had no reason to punish himself.

"You gave them back their children, and that's enough. You are enough."

Evan didn't know how important it was for family to have their loved ones back after they died. A lot of people didn't get that. Their families could die in a fire or drown in the sea or be lost and never come home or be found. Parents went to their graves not knowing where their children were and not having graves to visit or ashes to give them comfort.

By getting those kids out, Evan gave those parents that sense of closure. He handed them back their children.

He had done his job the best he could and there was nothing more that Evan could do. He had to come to terms with that and take solace in the small things. Evan needed to accept a little comfort and know he had done enough today.

Punishing himself wasn't going to help anyone when no one was blaming him for what happened today and no one ever would.

'I don't feel like enough.'

Those words were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't bring himself to say them. Not to someone who would completely understand where he was coming from. Not to (Y/n). He didn't want her to talk him off that ledge, not quite yet.

"Deep breaths… let me make you some coffee." (Y/n) knew the silent message behind her words would reach Evan. She would try and sober him up a little, he didn't need a hangover to haunt him in the morning and he had drunk enough for tonight. Coffee would settle his system and that was what he needed.

(Y/n) kept one hand cupping his face and brushed her thumb across the corner of his mouth. She pressed her chest into his and leaned around him to flick the kettle on, but Evan shook his head.

He let go of her hands so he could wrap one arm around her waist and cup her hip. His nails scrunched up in her shirt and dug through into her skin and he reached his free hand out to grab the neck of the whiskey bottle tucked far back on the counter behind him.

"I think you've had enough, sweetheart."

(Y/n) could feel his resolve start to fade when she held his chin between her thumb and finger and tilted his head away from the bottle to face her. She tugged him down to her level and kissed him while her other hand reached out for his. She pushed the bottle back down onto the counter.

He had drunk enough while he'd been alone, but he wasn't alone now. She was here now and she was going to take care of him.

"I haven't, I can still feel the panic, in here." He let go of the bottle to rub his fist over his chest. The bundle of nerves were still igniting away in his chest and he wanted it to stop. Drinking stopped his panic, it dulled his overactive mind and calmed him down and made it easier to fall asleep. "Have a drink with me."

When his lips pressed against her temple, (Y/n) sighed and hovered her lips against his neck. But her fingers stayed tight around his wrist and she stopped him from reaching back out for the bottle.

She wasn't doing this.

(Y/n) wanted to help Evan, but drinking with him wasn't going to help. She wanted things to be good between them.

If they started to reply on each other to drink together and lose their minds, they would end up harming each other and destructing themselves. (Y/n) wanted to be a support system for Evan and in order to do that, she had to do what was best for him and drowning their sorrows wasn't going to work. (Y/n) knew a lot about relying on alcohol after seeing her dad go through that and she wouldn't let that happen with Evan too.

"Evan, if I drink the night away with you, it's gonna change us. We'll start destructing together, we'll egg each other on and push ourselves past the edge. And I don't wanna lose you like that. Let me look after you-"

A gasp tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips when Evan cut her off.

His hands cupped the back of her thighs and he swiftly hoisted her up off her feet and walked her forward to the kitchen island. He sat her down on the edge of the counter and moved to stand between her legs with his hands digging tightly into her flesh, moving her legs so she hooked them around his torso.

He kept one hand cupping her thigh but his other hand wandered right beneath her shirt, letting his cold fingers travel across her warm skin until she was squirming in front of him.

"Promise me."

"What?" (Y/n) cupped his face in her hands again and leaned her head forward against his.

"Promise you won't let me go. Stay with me, hold me, just don't let me go."

Each word rambled faster and faster past his lips until (Y/n) could barely focus on what he was saying. There was a sense of urgency behind his words and she found herself nodding along, whispering a promise against his lips that devoured her like she was his last meal on Earth.

His hand slipped down from her back to her bum and he pulled her off the counter, forcing her to sit on his hips while he started to walk away from the kitchen with his lips still attached to hers. He drank her in, inhaling and gasping against her mouth and groaning into her lips when her fingers tangled into his hair.

"How drunk are you, Evan? Is this you destructing?"

Her voice sounded like a lullaby dream in Evan's ears and he found himself smiling despite the tears that were still pooling in the corners of his eyes. He pressed his nose against hers and swiped his tongue out across her lip while he stopped at the foot of the stairs.

"Not drunk enough, baby." Her fingers tickled the back of his neck and he swooped down to attach his lips to her neck instead. "And no, it's not. You're my saving grace."

He wasn't trying to get her into his bed so he could use sex as a way of combusting. He was trying to drown himself in (Y/n) because she was the only thing standing between Evan the the void he was staring into. He would lose himself in her eyes, drown in her body and breathe her in until she made everything stop and put the world back to rights.

***

"Self-harming can come in a lot of different forms, it doesn't have to be physical injuries. It's anything we do that purposely hurts or brings us down in any way. Starving ourselves, forcing ourselves into dangerous situations to prove a point or to feel that risk of being hurt. Abusing substances for various reasons."

(Y/n) found her eyes zoning in on the wooden floor, focusing on the little chips and dents that made something pristine look broken and unkept. She could relate to what Harold was saying.

At one point or another, (Y/n) had done a lot of bad coping mechanisms to punish herself or as a way of coping with the world. They didn't always seem bad, but they felt necessary. Running head first into a bad situation despite being told not to because she felt like she deserved to be in danger and because getting hurt would punish her for the things she had done wrong.

"And in your jobs, where your main priority is to help people, if you can't do that… you can end up hurting yourself to cope or as a punishment." Harold rubbed his hands over his knees as he sat up a bit straighter. "Would anyone like to share?"

"I- I think it feels necessary, for me, rather than as a punishment."

"Okay, can you elaborate on that (Y/n)?"

Sitting opposite Evan in the same seats as last week suddenly felt like they were sitting on opposite ends of the ocean. He looked so far away when she lifted her gaze to stare across at him.

He had his arms folded over his chest, his knees bent out to the sides making his thighs look large and inviting and he was slouched down so he didn't look as tall. She knew Evan felt like he was the odd one out, both because he was new to the group and because he looked different. He was young, like her, but he carried himself like he could face the world, until he walked through those doors.

When Evan walked in here, his resolve changed and his control faded away.

"It's necessary to skip a meal because I can save more time, I can do more at work, I can get on with that call ten or twenty minutes quicker because I cut out something that isn't necessary."

"You prioritise?"

"Yeah… I'll take that sense of danger too. The higher the danger, the more adrenaline, the faster I move, the more I can think and act. My expectations rise each time until I'm thinking… skip breakfast, skip lunch, run into a fire without gloves on so I can grab things better and if I get hurt, then that's a good thing. It proves what I'm doing is paying off somehow."

(Y/n) had expectations of what she wanted to do when she was at work. She wanted to be efficient and eating meals took time. It was time to prepare food, set out the dinner and wash the plates and then try and work it off so she didn't feel too full or too tired.

Skipping that meal meant she felt more alert, more agile and she had an extra half an hour to prioritise and get ready and stock the truck.

When she was scared her adrenaline made her think better, the scarier the better because she worked better under pressure. And if that pressure got her hurt, that was okay, that was just the burden of proof of what she was doing and how it was paying off.

But (Y/n) knew the more she thought like this, the more her expectations would rise and she would never meet those goals she set herself. She would end up starving herself to the point of needing a doctor, she would forget safety measures and put herself at risk to be more efficient and helpful.

"And you know, when you don't meet those expectations, you push harder. But when you do meet them, it's not enough because you raise the bar." When (Y/n) nodded and stared down at her hands, Harold looked around the room. That was her telltale sign that she was done opening up. "Anyone else have any other harmful tendencies?"

"I don't take precautions at work anymore."

"What kind of precautions Evan?"

"When we had a factory fire a few weeks back, we were told to evacuate, but I knew someone was still inside. It wasn't safe and I knew going in could cost me everything, but I did it anyway… against orders."

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't scare me. Sometimes… I- I go void, you know? I have days or weeks of not being afraid to risk everything. I know I can do it, so I blunder my way through and I do it."

Evan hated it when he felt that way. He hated that blank, null and void feeling where death didn't phase him and the danger felt limitless and pointless. He ran back into that factory and found a way to get that man out. Granted, he needed the team to come back and help him, but Evan found that man when everyone else was willing to let him die than take a risk.

Evan didn't need the danger and adrenaline to fuel him, but he wanted it because without it, he felt like a zombie.

"Do you get that dopamine rush, when you complete what you set out to do? Does it feel like a reward for you?"

"Not always, that's the bad part." He slumped forward in his chair and leaned his forearms down on his thighs as his back clicked into place. When he didn't get that excitement or that relief at the end of the day, Evan felt like going home and never waking up. What good was the job to him if it didn't give him that boost and that reward or knowing and feeling that he had saved someone?

"So then you keep running into that danger, chasing that high and gratification. What happens on a bad day, Evan? When you're stopped from running into that building or when all your efforts don't work?"

"I drink. I go home, I drown, and I don't wanna get up. I lost someone two days ago on the job and I… fuck, I… I've never felt like that before, but if I had a gun, I might of used it."

Tremors rattled through (Y/n)'s stomach and her arms bound around her chest to stop herself from crying. They weren't really meant to mingle and it was a conflict, her and Evan being in the same therapy group like this. She couldn't afford to give them both away and admit that Evan meant much more to her than a stranger in a weekly meeting.

But how could she stop herself from crying when he'd just admitted the job was killing him?

Being a fireman was his saving grace, it was what Evan wanted to do and he couldn't see himself doing anything else. But losing someone had nearly taken every ounce of him. It wasn't fair. Not when Evan did his level best each and every day and he helped so many people, but now he felt broken.

"Can I ask why it hit you so hard?"

"Because I got them out! I- I had then in my arms, and my efforts did nothing. If my best can't save someone, if it's n-not enough, where does that leave me? So I drink, a lot, and I would of carried on if-" His baby blue eyes welled up with tears and for a split second, he let his eyes linger on (Y/n) before he looked down at his hands and tangled them together. "Uh, if I had more alcohol in the house."

A close save.

Evan would have drank the bottle of whiskey in his apartment and the rest of the beer in the fridge if (Y/n) didn't come over when he asked.

He would of woken up the same way he did when Maddie found him if (Y/n) didn't help him. And he would do it again and again because the drink stopped the panic and the panic fuelled his bad thoughts and turned him on himself.

"Okay. You said before that you binge drink, Evan this is only a suggestion, but I think abstaining from alcohol might be useful. You sound like you're on the path to abusing it and that is a hard path to stray from."

Harold tried to word it as carefully as he could, but he was only saying something that Evan had already been thinking about.

Something that (Y/n) had already talked about.

She didn't want to keep drinking with Evan in case they both got on that abusive path of drinking when their problems worsened. They would end up drinking after every bad shift, drowning the night away and using alcohol to make things better. Then where would they be if they needed a drink to get themselves through a shift at work?

(Y/n) wanted to be Evan's support system and if they were going to help each other, they needed to acknowledge some of their problems.

Alcohol was starting to be a problem for Evan.

He nodded before he bowed his head and hung his hands down between his thighs.

Suddenly, the room felt like it was expanding, like the floor was growing and creating a distance between him and (Y/n). And Evan wanted to run across the room and drop his face into her neck and curl his arms around her waist. He wanted to anchor himself to her, tether his body to hers until he wasn't afraid anymore. Until the night faded away and the day seemed bearable.

Right now, Evan didn't want a drink. He just wanted (Y/n).

#evan buckley #buck imagine #buck x reader #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #imagine #911 imagine #bobby nash #beautiful destruction

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